(New story set in the same world as Friends, Masters and Slaves, The Frat Party, The Warehouse and Blackmailing Erika, a utopian world created by COLLAREDSLUTGIRLS.
All characters are over 18 years old and this story is solely a figment of my imagination.
My language is Spanish, I apologize for any grammatical errors I may make when translating the stories into English).
First Visit
I never thought that the Slave Market was so big, I have been walking for more than twenty minutes through its facilities on my way to the area where the future slave girls are exhibited before being sold and I keep coming across images that surprise me.
In addition to being surprised, I am quite excited by everything I am observing for the first time in my life, although I try to control my reactions so that nobody notices that this is my first visit to a public slave market, something not very normal for someone who has just turned twenty-two a few months ago.
During the last three years of my university studies, I was invited several times by some of my classmates to accompany them to the market and enjoy the pleasures offered there, but unfortunately, I always had to decline their kind invitations.
While most of my classmates being rich kids had all the time and money in the world to indulge their fantasies and perversions and instead of going to the usual brothels where trained pleasure slave girls offered their services for as little as $20, they preferred to pay $100, $200 or even $500 to fuck freshly enslaved young girls who were put on display for hours before being branded and auctioned off.
I, on the other hand, as a scholarship student from a small town south of Boston, had neither the time nor the money to indulge in such whims, my double major in computer science and graphic design barely left me enough free time for my athletic training, and my night job as a bartender barely provided enough money to pay for a small flat on campus so I didn't have to live in the dorm.
Despite having to turn down those invitations from my classmates to enjoy the future slave girls, I never had problems finding girls to take to bed, being one of the best athletes of the university and that job as a waiter in one of the trendiest nightclubs in the city, coupled with a body full of muscles thanks to my workouts and my years working on the family farm allowed me to end up every weekend accompanied by one or even on occasion two college beauties who didn't mind giving me complete control and being fucked and treated like common slave girls.
Now that a year after graduating, thanks to the sale of several computer programs I designed during my time at the university, I have enough free time and much more money than any of my former classmates ever had, until today I had never considered visiting the public slave market, I prefer to visit the exclusive private slave markets on the east coast, where in addition to purchasing from the dozen or so slave girls who attend to my every need in the Boston flat, the New York flat and especially the South Miami mansion, I enjoy the various shows they put on for the lucky buyers.
At last, after passing through a dozen stalls where you can tattoo and adorn your new slave girl in any way you can imagine, hearing the continuous screams of the slave girls receiving the marks of their owners and seeing dozens of young girls being offered for sale at small auction stalls by their parents or boyfriends when they thought they were just visiting, I arrive at the doors of the showroom.
Before I enter, I open the door and stop to make way for two men dragging behind them a dozen naked young women, including a beautiful redhead whom I watched a few minutes ago as her father forcibly stripped her naked and then sold her for just over $1,500.
"We've made a good buy;" I hear one of the men say as he approaches the door; "For the virgin redhead alone we'll get more than we paid for all these bitches;" he adds, spanking the firm ass of one of the girls.
"The day all those rednecks find out that they can earn a lot more by searching the goods directly we'll be out of business;" replies the other man smiling.
"Until that day comes, we'll keep making money and enjoying tight pussies and asses;" points out the first man through the door, "I'm only sorry I can't be the first to fuck the redhead;" he adds.
As I hold the door, I can't help but notice the young red-haired girl marching in last place in the entourage, just ahead of the second man, she must be about five foot seven, with a slim, slender body and fair skin on which some light whip marks are visible. Her face full of small freckles and her beautiful green eyes make her face an attractive image, her tits look firm and appetizing despite not being too big, but the rest of her body with defined but not too exaggerated muscles provokes an unexpected reaction in my cock.
All the slave girls I own, are pleasure slave girls trained in the best academies, which makes them perfect submissives ready to please me in everything I ask of them, but in these last few months I have considered on several occasions the possibility of buying a newly enslaved young girl and mould her to my whim, and on closer inspection of the beautiful redhead I decide to take the plunge.
"$8,000 for the redhead;" I say to the man who closes the motorcade before he walks through the door causing him to stop immediately.
The man looks at me for a few seconds as if he is studying me, and although at first, he looks like he is going to ignore me he finally turns to me, "That virgin beauty is worth at least $18,000;" he replies grabbing the redhead and placing her in front of me while pinching her nipples and forcing her to spread her legs.
"As soon as you walk through that door you will have to pay to register her, and the market will take 20% of the sale;" I reply ignoring the redhead's wet pussy and taking out an envelope with cash, "Besides until auction time a lot can happen, it's not the first time there is a raid on a college party and suddenly forty or fifty slave girls arrive for sale causing prices to plummet;" I add knowing that happens quite often.
"If you give me $14,000, she's yours right now;" the man says to me with a straight face as he hears my words.
"I'll give you $10,000, I'm sure if I wait for the auction, I'll buy it for less;" I reply, gesturing to keep the money.
"All right, all right, $10,000;" says the man handing me the leash attached to the redhead's collar and the sales slip from the young girl's father.
As I hold the leash of the redhead who has not stopped crying since the man placed her in front of me and started groping her, I am tempted to go home and start enjoying my new slave girl, but a message arrives on my mobile phone and when I open it, I see that it is the same message that I received last night, prompting my visit to the market.
The message shows a picture of Cinthia, a spectacular twenty-year-old brunette with an elegant red dress open at the sides showing her long legs supported by matching boots with almost four inches of heel. The photo is accompanied by the message, "If you want to keep your promise, visit the public market tomorrow and you can do it."
The message comes from a different number than the first message, probably also untraceable, which I find strange and frustrating for a computer genius like me. Although this is not the strangest thing about this situation, barely half a dozen people were present when after a strong discussion I promised Cinthia that one day I would end up fucking her ass while closing a slave girl collar around her neck.
If all this wasn't strange enough, the message arrived on my private mobile phone, a phone number that barely has a dozen people on it, and only one of those people is from my college past.
In the end I decide to find out what this is all about and after handing Rachel, as the redhead is called, over to one of the market guards to be registered in my name I walk through the door into the showroom.
When I enter the enormous hall the image, I find is even more desolate than I expected, barely fifty people in a space with a capacity for more than a thousand people. The scene is nothing like what my classmates used to tell me when they invited me to come, they always told me about hundreds of beautiful young women exhibited naked and the same number of anxious buyers, although of course they always went a few hours before the auction, not at nine in the morning as it is now.
I barely have to look around the room a couple of times to see something out of place that catches my eye, and which I suspect may be what has brought me here, two young women on display at one end of the room dressed in cheerleader outfits.
