Part seven of a ten-part story about three sisters and their experiences being graded for sale as slaves. Note that this story contains references to BDSM and not-completely-consensual sexual submission. While the overall story does include themes and depictions of incest or incestual desire, this particular chapter does not, but be aware of that before getting invested in the story. This story also includes one character's growing interest in lesbian sex. All characters are at least 18 years of age.
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Seen and Not Heard
Angie spent the remainder of the hour in a state of fear; she and Alina weren't being graded, they were being
sold
. She had triple-checked the paperwork, there had to be some mistake. She was a free woman, and she was damn well going to remain one. Angie collected herself; no, there was no mistake. HCI had a reputation for not "converting" (as it was called when a free woman was made into a slave without her consent, usually by a broker during grading), that was a big reason why she had chosen them; even Garcia's had been known to "accidentally" put Prime and Choice gradees into the "sell" pen. Magda had double-crossed them, it was the only explanation. If Angie didn't think of something quick, they were both going to be auctioned off. When the graders reappeared she would get their attention and find out what was going on.
As the remaining buyers looked her over (there were still quite a few - she and Alina appeared to be very popular) she looked at them in a very different light because they were no longer theoretical buyers, but potential owners. That made the frowning older lady with the leathery skin who smelled of strong cigarettes MUCH more frightening than she would have been just ten minutes ago; it didn't help that she was
very
focused on inspecting Angie's mouth, even having her stick out her tongue and examining it top and bottom with pinched fingers.
Joanna finally came to retrieve her. She turned off the electromagnet, lowered Angie's arms and re-handcuffed her, clipped a leash to her collar and started to lead her back to the holding area when Angie started frantically snapping her fingers.
Joanna paused, looked at her and said "Have you got something to say to me? As bright as you are, I'm certain you do" she said, then pulled Angie by the leash until she was very close. "Slaves are seen and not heard, 9974. You will learn that at obedience school. That, and so much more." Joanna took Angie's left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a sharp twist, making her cringe in pain.
"Do not make any more noise. Understood?" she said, slowly enunciating each word, staring hard into the younger woman's eyes. Angie couldn't hold her stare; she swallowed hard and lowered her gaze, feeling more naked and vulnerable than ever.
At the same time, she noticed Joanna's perfume: soft and slightly flowery but with a note of something β harder? sharper? β underneath that she couldn't place. Angie hadn't noticed it earlier, and surely she would have. Did Joanna put it on just before she came to get them?
The pendulum swings were driving Angie crazy: one minute Joanna praises her, the next she tells her to shut up, then puts on new perfume only to twist Angie's nipple. And I do not like the sound of "obedience school," Angie thought, which sounds like the slave training centers we learned about in high school but worse because it's called the same name as a place where you would send a dog.
But would it be so bad to be a dog for Joanna? I'm already naked and collared and leashed like a dog, I'd just need to run around on all fours and learn to lick anything my mistress commands...
"...Fantastic," Angie thought, as she felt the moisture start to slowly run down the length of her vaginal lips.
When Joanna turned back around, Angie managed to glance behind her. Alina was as white as a sheet, and her puffy eyes showed she had been crying; leading her as she stumbled along on her shaky legs was Brandon, wearing a grim expression.
Confirmed: something is definitely wrong, and everyone knows it.
Joanna pulled her firmly by the leash and they made their way into the area next to the big prep room β the holding pens. Angie had seen women who were finished being graded return to the prep room where they were released, and she knew that the pens were where they put slaves awaiting the auction block. The sisters were marched into a small holding cell just inside the doorway, their collars chained to ring bolts mounted in the wall, told to sit on the only furniture in the room β a heavy, polished concrete bench with a plastic top β then their handlers departed, closing the thick door behind them.
Alina looked at Angie and silently mouthed What happened?
I don't know, Angie mouthed back.
Are we going to be slaves?
Angie shook her head. No, we are not.
Alina nodded and snuffled a few times. Did you see Brian Gottschalk? she mouthed.
Angie nodded and replied, Don't worry about him. I'll get us out of this.
Alina sat for a moment, despondent, before shuffling over and laying her head on Angie's shoulder.