I'm A Sla-a-a-ave, For You {FoxyLady7 & Willversuch}
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: foxylady7 on 07-08-2013, 21:08:59</h2>
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				Title: <strong>I'm A Sla-a-a-ave, For You {FoxyLady7 &amp; Willversuch}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>foxylady7</strong> on <strong>07-08-2013, 21:08:59</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;A dark, deep, starless night extended endlessly above the bustling downtown streets. The moonlight barely penetrated through the luminescence of the streetlamps, which generously lined the roads and gave the area a cloudy yellow overcast. Such a night made for the perfect ambient environment for excited young coeds to flock the numerous nightclubs, dive bars, and convenience stores. A constant cool spring breeze cleared the air from the pollution that the large crowd generated, and granted a fresh smell to the air despite the large gathering. College aged kids from miles around had convened to the area to find escape from their academic lives and drink and be merry without discretion. A young girl stumbled from the doors of a clamoring club to seek the busy streets. She was a beautiful girl, with long dark brunette locks (http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7bp66gQry1qim2p0o1_500.jpg), doe brown eyes (http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7txfkVCWE1qim2p0o9_1280.jpg), and a bewitching smile (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7tx5vNuaH1qim2p0o5_1280.jpg). Her petite form is tight and soft with youth, and was easily visible beneath her scant attire (http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m59b6rz9tf1rsz9cao1_500.jpg).<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Taylor (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8f0gtLWDT1qim2p0o1_1280.jpg) struggled to control her heavy, incompetent body. Every movement, every <em>breath</em> had her laboring hard. She had never once been this intoxicated before, and although she was enjoying herself just moments earlier, the poison in her gut had her begging for mercy from the sluggish, sickening feeling she was now experiencing from her careless regard for consumption. After a trip to the bathroom to heave up what she just drank down, she stumbled back into the fray, seeking to rejoin her rowdy group of friends. The club provided a dizzying barrage against the senses, and in her drunken state, it all became to much to cope with. The club was choking her, making her throat tight, causing the queasy feeling to return yet again. <em><strong>I'm going to heave soon if I don't find them. Where are they? Why would they leave when I can barely hold myself up?</strong></em> she moaned internally. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Growing increasingly annoyed at the assault of noise and sights and sensations, she pushed her way through the crowd to find the doors and escape out into the street. As soon as she stepped out, a brush of cool, crisp air cleared her lungs and nose of the heavy air found within the club. The air provided a small feeling of relief, and Taylor pounced on this chance to use the new found energy to search for her group once again. She could not afford to lose them. She didn't drive here, she barely knew the town, and she couldn't call her parents or they would surely murder her. Gritting her teeth seemed to hold back the nausea, so she staggered along the sidewalk in the immediate area with the hope of locating her group. The relief soon passed, and a wave of torment rushed through her, causing sweat to bead up all over. Her tanned skin, normally so clear and unblemished gained a drunken flush, a bright red rash that showed in her cheeks and decolletage. As her temperature increased, breathing seemed to be even more inhibited. The cool breeze helped make the heat bearable, but only just so. A walk in the opposite direction revealed that she had surely lost her group, and no amount of texts or calls could reach anyone. What began as annoyance turned into anxiety. Seeking help in desperation, Taylor begged to passer-bys to help her find her friends. Naturally, the drunken girl was shrugged off.&nbsp; Tears started to form as her frustration and fear increased. She dialed again, hoping to reach at least one of her friends. <strong>"Dammit! Pick UP!"</strong> she yelled out in futility. The phone rang again and again with no answer. The frustration was so great Taylor couldn't help but to throw her arms about in anger, and she triped to the ground with the loss of balance. As she sat there, her mind grew dark, the noise of the street dim. After a moment of internal recollection, she took off her heels and riose up again, using a nearby trash bin for support, fearing that if she didn't find her friends soon, she would pass out.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Suddenly a large, firm hand griped her on her thin shoulder, and she spun about quickly to see who had a hold of her. A uniformed police officer had his squinted eyes firmly fixed on her face. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;His deep voice came out in a rush, <em><strong>"Miss, are you okay?"</strong> </em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Her stomach turned, and she could feel the vomit rising yet again in her throat. It made her even sicker to hold it back, but with every ounce of energy she could muster, she forced herself to swallow hard and respond to the officer as soberly as possible. <strong>"Y-Yes, officer. I am just looking for my friends."</strong> <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The sweat that had formed earlier began dripping down her face and body as she used everything in her to hold herself upright, and she can tell the officer noticed. He can easily see through her charade. <em><strong>"Miss, I can smell the alcohol on you. How many drinks have you had?"</strong> </em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Fearing the trouble she would be in if she answered truthfully and was arrested, she managed to put on a parody of as innocent a face as possible and lied, <strong>"Only a couple."</strong><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Incredulous, the officer eyed her up and down,<em> <strong>"Ma'am, I am going to ask you again, and this time you tell me the truth or you will be in worse trouble when I have you blow. How many drinks have you consumed?"</strong></em> <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Another wave of nausea caught her unprepared, or perhaps unable, and she could no longer hold it back. She leaned over the bin and let out the bile. One heave. Two. The sweat dripped down her face, and she tried her best to clean herself up. She felt filthier than she ever has in her life. Oh how, at this moment, she would give anything to be in bed, at home, free of the sickness that plagues her, free of the heavy, sticky grip of her intoxication. No longer able to keep up her feigned innocence, she turned to face the officer again, a genuine look of worry glazing her glittering chocolate eyes.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"I'm sorry,"</strong> she gasped, <strong>"I never do this and I was with my friends and I just lost them, and I haven't had a lot to drink but I haven't ever really drank before - "</strong> she prattled on before the officer interrupted her. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em><strong>"Miss, I need your license please,"</strong></em> he requested, extending his burly hand for receipt. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Shakily, she reached into her bralette and retrieved her identification for the officer. The plastic card wass doused with sweat. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;In one brief, trained glance the officer called her out on her deception. <em><strong>"This is a fake ID. How old are you miss?"</strong> </em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Having already admitted so much this far and dying to get home regardless of the consequences, Taylor quickly decided to answer truthfully. <strong>"I'm twenty. Almost old enough, just a year away. I didn't think it would be that bad. I just wanted to go with my friends."</strong> <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em><strong>"You'll have to come with me. You have committed some serious offenses. I am going to handcuff you for my own safety. "</strong></em> demanded the officer, as he took her by her slender arms and briskly cuffed her small wrists. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;They soon approached a black and white vehicle, a marked distinction of a police vehicle. The officer escorted her to the back and made a call out on this talkie in police code. Taylor's skull was hammering too hard in her head for her to care to decipher it. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Unsure what to do or say, she asked one more thing of the officer, <strong>"Are you taking me to jail?"</strong> Her head was swimming, and she is cutting in and out of consciousness. Leisurely the officer responded in monotone, characteristic of most police force.<em> <strong>"Yes. You need to be taken in and processed, and then we will call your friends or parents or whoever and have them retrieve you from the facility."</strong> </em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;A quiet <strong>"Okay,"</strong> was all she could muster before she collapsed in the back of the car, the darkness welcoming her and removing her consciousness.</span><br><br><hr><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The sounds of heavy footsteps and the clinking of equipment managed to bring Taylor out of her comatose-like state. Her head hurt so badly, a pounding that refused to relent. As sensation came back to her, she realized that she was still cuffed and lying on her back, on top of her hands which had grown numb. She apparently had not slept long enough. She was hoping to have awakened to her parents bailing her out. She opened her eyes, no easy task. They were heavy and a little swollen from her tears earlier and from lack of rest. As she peered through the slits of her lids, she realized she was in a dark room, with only a small amount of light filtering through what may be a hallway. It was hard to tell. Her body felt too leaden to move, but she managed to roll over, and found she was on a smooth concrete floor. Several other cuffed bodies lay in the same room all around her. Although her vision was still hazy, she could make out industrial corrugated metal walls, the kind featured in warehouses. This was no jail. Where was she? <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Suddenly, she heard the characteristic sound of light switches being flicked on and within a few moments, a ton of fluorescent overhanging lights bathed the room in bright sterile light. Her hair was wild about her, clinging to her still wet body. She witnessed a group of large men, some armed, others not, flood into the large room she and the others were stored in. As she looked about she noticed that each cuffed person was a female. All females, all handcuffed and placed about the floor, which was cold against her skin. Without word, the men hustled in, grabbing the girls closest to the door and carrying them off. The girls being taken away screamed, demanded answers. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; <em> <strong>"Don't make a peep! I do not want to hear any bitching. If anyone makes a noise, you will regret it."</strong></em> piped up one of the grizzly men.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Someone dared to test the threat. Taylor watched in horror as the girl who screamed out was beat repeatedly and finally stung with a cattle prodder.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em><strong>"I'm not joking. No noise. From anyone."</strong></em> he barked as he swept the room with the prodder, illustrating his threat. <strong>"If I have to, I will kill you."</strong> With that final statement the men continued the work of gathering girls and tossing them over their shoulders. One by one they came and gathered the girls, but screams were no longer heard, nor demands. Only whimpers and soft cries. Taylor was streaming tears down her face, so many horrific thoughts racing through her mind. She resigned to think that this should be the day she would die. A gruff man grabbed her by her soft arms and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of produce. The impact of her tender stomach against his burly shoulder knocked the wind from her lungs. She inhaled sharply, her tears still coming. They took her from one room into a long hall, and placed her in front of a row of shower heads, all exposed. Each girl that had been carried off was still handcuffed and removed of clothing, then thrust into the water of the shower head, and roughly given a quick scrub by the man who was tending her. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Taylor was slung down and pushed onto her feet. With a sharp box cutter the man grabbed at her dress and cut into it, slitting it down the front all the way through. He ripped the dress from her arms, then grabbed at her bra and cut it free to expose her flesh. All of this was done in a brisk, methodical manner, as if he had done this a long time, as if it was mundane. All Taylor could do was look about, fearful of the wrath of any of these men. Finally her panties were cut free so she could no longer by covered by anything. She leaned over, hunching up to become as small as possible. Having completed his work with her clothes he put away his blade and thrust her into the shower head. The rush of ice cold water cause her to gasp aloud and inhale sharply. Her breath became rapid, her body unable to unclench long enough to draw in a proper breath because of the water's frozen temperature. The man grabbed a nozzle next to the head, sprayed her down with a soapy solution, then rinsed her well before taking her into a large towel for a rushed dry. From there she was led in nudity to a door and pushed through. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The inside of this new room was completely dark, but each time a door opened, light flooded in to expose the interior. There were two doors directly opposite each other. the room was very small, and girls were being crammed in. It was so tight in the room from the volume of bodies that Taylor had to fight to stay upright without the benefit of the balance and leverage of her arms.constantly the crowd was pushed forward as more girls were sequestered in. As more were being pushed in, other were being taken out from the opposite door. A booming voice could be heard above the din of cries coming from the girls all around her. <strong><em>"Come on! I know she is not much to look at but she can work! She is good for those tasks your more delicate labor cannot do!"</em></strong> <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Too deep in shock to worry about what was ahead, her mind was curiously clear. Her only thought was for survival. Her hands and arms had regained feeling, and the cuffs bit into her wrists. Her body was still damp, water beaded all over, her hair a wild wet mess about her. The room was cold and was only made colder by the the droplets of cold water still clinging to her. Her flesh began to goose pimple, and was sensitive to the touch of the other bodies crammed against hers. Fat, silent tears streamed slowly down her face as despair set in. Soon, she was upon the door, knowing that at any moment she would face the next horror. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Abruptly the door swung open and more hands reached in to seize her. A large leather collar with a heavy chain affixed to it was fastened about her neck, and as men around her worked to secure it, another who held the chain spoke. <strong><em>"Don't try anything stupid. If you do, you will be killed and we will hunt down your family. Do not speak. Do not escape."</em></strong> He said factually, and his tone chilled her worse than his words. She was certain he would make good on his threat. Suddenly she felt her cuffs being loosed, and instantly her hands flew to the binding at her neck. A hard jerk was given to the chain, a violent reminder of the looming danger she faced if she tried to run. Every man in this area was armed. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;She was led to a makeshift stage, brightly lit with harsh industrial lights. A quick glance revealed a small audience of men looking up at her, and she quickly moved her hands to cover her private areas.&nbsp; Some of the men eyeing her were sleazy looking, with gaudy jewelry over big shirts or ill-fitting, off colored suits. Others were very classy, graceful, wealthy looking men. She withdrew to the back of her surrounding, unsure what to do, unsure how to feel other than embarrassed and afraid. Her eyes fell to the floor, not wanting to face this unbelievable reality. Her head hurt so bad, and she had yet to recover from her alcohol poisoning. She wanted so bad to run, but armed men stood sentinel at each corner of the room and at each exit. This place was definitely a base for a slave trafficking cartel. She had heard news reports and docudramas on the subject, but hardly paid any mind, never once considering that she herself would be subject to such an atrocity. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Her thoughts were interrupted by a large man who now held her chain, shaking it about in an excited manner. <strong><em>"We have here a nice fresh young filly! I know you all want her! Come on! I need bids!"</em></strong> he postured, as he held his hands toward Taylor. She peeked from the corner of her eye to see several hands go up. She wanted so badly to disappear that she crouched down, looking like a wild, frightened animal. Her damp hair was hanging in think strings, water still dripping from the long strands. Her eyes were glossed over with tear, and wide, and tense. Her hands sought to cover her bare flesh, but made for poor cover. She was beautiful even in her panicked state. Like a cat in a cage. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;In an effort to keep the bidding from slowing, the auctioneer yanked the chain, sending her to the floor. Her hands flew to her restraint and she scrambled up and gave a tug, but his grip was strong against her much smaller and weakened body. She understood that it would be ineffectual anyway. Any chance at escape was eliminated. Her hands sought again her breasts and that treasured triangle placed between her legs. <strong><em>"Come on, more bids people! She is young, she can be taught and broken. She would be a great addition to any household,"</em></strong> he probed, waving his arms up to signal more hands, but the bids were dying down. Taylor prayed this would be over soon, yet she feared so much what was left in store for her after.</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: I'm A Sla-a-a-ave, For You {FoxyLady7 &amp; Willversuch}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>willversuch</strong> on <strong>08-08-2013, 17:35:10</strong>
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				“Those things will kill you, you know,” a woman’s voice spoke from behind him.<br><br>James turned slowly at the words, taking another long drag on his cigarette.&nbsp; Exhaling a plume of smoke, he took in the sight of Vanessa Lambart.&nbsp; She was an attractive woman and married to the Earl of Cavan, if he remembered correctly.&nbsp; Whatever ancient noble title her husband carried, he was also forty years the woman’s senior.&nbsp; Vanessa opened a silver case and withdrew a cigarette of her own, slipping the end between her bright red lips.<br><br>“Then I suppose I should return the warning,” James smiled as he flicked open his lighter and lit her cigarette. &nbsp;“Unless, of course, you’ve developed a healthier varietal that you’re keeping to yourself?”<br><br>Returning his smile, she took a long draw off the cigarette and settled into one of the plush leather chairs in the outdoor seating area.&nbsp; A man in a tuxedo rushed over to take her order, but she waved him away.&nbsp; James remained standing, his eyes wandering down at the appearance of Vanessa’s bare thigh through the slit in her cocktail dress as she crossed her legs.<br><br>“Sadly, nothing of the sort, though they won’t kill me,” Vanessa winked.&nbsp; “I am quite confident that I will meet my end in a far more dramatic fashion than lung cancer.”<br><br>“One of the perks of the lifestyle, I suppose,” James chuckled.<br><br>He had only met her once before, in passing at some black tie affair.&nbsp; While they were both wealthy, they were typically players in different worlds.&nbsp; James had built his fortunes from humble beginnings, using his earnings from a successful general contracting business to fund an automobile loan company.&nbsp; That company, catering to people with damaged credit, now funded loans in forty states.<br><br>To people like Vanessa, he was new money.&nbsp; In this day and age, people like James were shunned at first.&nbsp; When the earnings portfolio reached a certain level, however, even the proud old money had to sit up and take notice.&nbsp; New infusions of cash had to come from somewhere, after all.<br><br>“How are you finding the auction tonight?” she asked, raising an elegantly trimmed eyebrow.<br><br>“Disappointing,” James shrugged.&nbsp; “But this one isn’t about me.&nbsp; Today is all business.”<br><br>“Business is such a bore,” Vanessa frowned.&nbsp; “As is this auction.”<br><br>“No purchases for you, then?” he asked.<br><br>“It seems not,” she sighed then took another drag on the cigarette.&nbsp; “You?”<br><br>“Oh no,” James shrugged.&nbsp; “But I didn’t come here with the intention.&nbsp; Today is business, remember?”&nbsp; He crushed out his cigarette in a standing ash tray. &nbsp;“And on that note, it’s time for me to get back to it.&nbsp; It was a pleasure speaking with you.”<br><br>“Likewise,” she answered with a smile.&nbsp; Reaching into her clutch, she withdrew a card and held it up to him. &nbsp;“I’ll be in town for a couple days.&nbsp; Feel free to look me up.&nbsp; Perhaps we can find some more suitable entertainment.”<br><br>“Perhaps,” James said, smiling as he took the card.&nbsp; <br><br>Excusing himself with a nod, James entered the building once more.&nbsp; A doorman opened the door to his suite and he stepped inside.<br><br>“Holy shit, would you look at that one!” his guest exclaimed, gesticulating wildly toward the stage.<br><br>The guest was Timothy “Big Tim” Masterson, who owned a number of car dealerships in Houston.&nbsp; He looked as though he had just stepped out of one of his television commercials, dressed in tacky western wear that looked as though it had never been in the presence of a horse.&nbsp; He was holding a half-eaten pastry of some kind and its filling splattered on his bright red shirt as he gestured.<br><br>“Enjoying yourself?” James asked with a grin.<br><br>“They put on a hell of a show!” Tim laughed boisterously.&nbsp; “It almost looks real!”<br><br>“Almost looks real?” James cocked his head to one side as he stepped in closer to the man, moving past the other obviously annoyed guests in the suite. &nbsp;“I can assure you it’s very real.”<br><br>“No way,” the cowboy countered. &nbsp;“There’d just be too much risk.&nbsp; I’m not buying it.”<br><br>Taking the big man’s arm, James led him back to their seats.&nbsp; Settling in, and grateful that his guest wasn’t making quite such a scene any longer, he ordered a new gin and tonic as he watched the bidding come to a close on the newest offering.&nbsp; She was a skinny girl with a shock of red hair on her head and between her legs.&nbsp; Even from a distance, he could see the terror in her eyes as she was pulled off the stage by her leash.<br><br>“What risk are you talking about?” James finally asked.<br><br>“Anyone here could turn them in to the cops,” Tim laughed.&nbsp; “You don't get to where I am in the car business without knowing people.&nbsp; If this was real, word would get out, and this would be a lot bigger than some Madame’s whore-house rolodex going public.&nbsp; There are some big names here.”<br><br>“And every one of those big names has a skeleton in his or her closet,” James replied. &nbsp;“If they let word of this place get out, the owners of this establishment would share their dirty laundry with the media and authorities.&nbsp; No one gets in without the owners here having some dirt on them.”<br><br>“They don’t have any dirt on me,” the big man grinned. &nbsp;“How do they know I’m not going to tell someone?”<br><br>“Well, first of all, there is the fact that I vouched for you,” James answered coolly. &nbsp;“And second of all there is the matter of your electric bills for those dealerships.&nbsp; You use quite a lot of power and it seems that the city has been footing a substantial portion of the bill.&nbsp; I’m sure that it was just some sort of clerical error, but couldn’t that put your dealer license at risk if the authorities didn’t agree?”<br><br>“How?&nbsp; How?” Tim’s mouth fell open at James’s words and his cheeks began to redden.&nbsp; “How did you?”<br><br>“It’s our secret, Mr. Masterson,” James smiled.&nbsp; “And one that I was required to share with the proprietors to gain your entry here.&nbsp; Let me assure you, however, that they will be utterly discreet with the knowledge.”<br><br>The dealer turned his attention back to the stage.&nbsp; James grinned inwardly.&nbsp; The day was a success.&nbsp; He knew that both of their positions were now abundantly clear.&nbsp; More importantly, Masterson Automotive Group would now definitely be sending a substantially higher proportion of its loan business through James’s company.<br><br>“I’m sure,” Tim muttered, still red-faced.<br><br>Turning his attention back to the stage, James took a sip from his newly arrived beverage.&nbsp; He froze in place, the glass still held to his lips.&nbsp; A brunette stood on the stage.&nbsp; Wet hair tumbled around the slender girl’s shoulders.&nbsp; The firm leather collar locked in place around her neck seemed to accentuate her nakedness.&nbsp; Swallowing slowly, he placed his drink back down on the table next to his seat.&nbsp; Before he realized he was doing it, he found himself reaching for his paddle.<br><br>“Holy shit, are you going to bid on this one?” the cowboy asked, wide-eyed.&nbsp; The mix of anger and fear that had shrouded the man’s features a moment before was gone, replaced with almost childlike excitement.<br><br>James did not answer the man.&nbsp; In fact, he barely heard the question.&nbsp; For a moment, he locked eyes with the girl, though he doubted that she could see him under the harsh fluorescent light of the stage.&nbsp; But in that moment, he was transported back in time nearly fifteen years.&nbsp; He had just turned twenty-five and was working unbearably long hours to get his fledgling business off the ground.&nbsp; Kaitlin had been too impatient to wait for him to ‘get his act together.’&nbsp; She’d married well, a doctor, and had a few kids.&nbsp; James found himself looking at her Facebook page more often than he cared to admit.<br><br><strong>"We have here a nice fresh young filly! I know you all want her! Come on! I need bids!"</strong> the auctioneer announced.&nbsp; <br><br>The girl lowered her eyes and the moment was broken.&nbsp; This was not Kaitlin, of course.&nbsp; For starters, his former love was almost forty now, like James.&nbsp; This girl probably wasn’t even of legal drinking age.&nbsp; But the resemblance was uncanny.&nbsp; He watched her ineffectually attempt to cover herself with her hands, the gesture of modesty in this immodest place adding to her allure.<br><br>As the bidding began to slow, the auctioneer gave a tug on the leash attached to the girl’s collar.&nbsp; She fell hard to her knees, glaring up at the man.&nbsp; Rising back up quickly to her bare feet, James watched her tug back hard on the chain, though the auctioneer’s grip remained firm.<br><br><strong>“Come on, more bids people! She is young, she can be taught and broken. She would be a great addition to any household,”</strong> the man almost pleaded with the crowd, gesturing for more bids.<br><br>James was surprised to discover that his hand was up, raising the paddle.&nbsp; The auctioneer acknowledged his bid and probed the crowd further, seeking someone to raise the price.&nbsp; James swallowed hard.&nbsp; A part of him prayed that someone else would up the ante.&nbsp; He was not prepared for this.&nbsp; He had not planned to purchase anything more than an expensive lunch for his client today and here he was on the verge of buying a living, breathing human being.<br><br>“Oh my God, I think you’re going to get her,” Tim interrupted his thoughts.&nbsp; “So what happens now?”<br><br>“Now,” James began, his mind reeling.&nbsp; He barely recognized his own voice, feeling as though he was hovering above his body. &nbsp;“Now, they will clean her up a bit, robe her, and then shackle her for delivery to my home.”<br><br>“To your home?” Tim asked.&nbsp; “And you just keep her there or something?&nbsp; How do you know she won’t run away?”<br><br>“I have a wing specially prepared to see to it that doesn’t happen,” James answered hollowly. &nbsp;“Remember, I was a contractor before I was a lender.”<br><br>“Oh, so you planned for this?” the cowboy queried.<br><br>“I planned for the eventuality, yes.&nbsp; I just had no idea it was going to be today,” James took a deep breath and then rose from his seat. &nbsp;“I’m sorry, but it appears I’m going to have to call this an early night.&nbsp; It seems I have some preparations to make.”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: I'm A Sla-a-a-ave, For You {FoxyLady7 &amp; Willversuch}</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>foxylady7</strong> on <strong>08-08-2013, 19:58:21</strong>
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				<span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;The thunder in the man's voice was enough to madden her. It droned on and on, begging for bids, begging for profit. He sounded so rapacious, so full of greedy gluttony that her stomach turned again in repulsion to it. It may have just been the mess of alcohol attempting to process through her system. Her brain was racked with so much dizzying pain she could hardly use it to think about her predicament, yet her mind reeled anyway. The bids were winding down. Soon she would be taken. But perhaps for the better. She knew that in this place there stand frightening, large, armed men at every corner. Perhaps once she was taken she would have a better chance of escaping to safety. Or perhaps the bids were for something else entirely. It was all too difficult to comprehend, and her throbbing senses made it impossible.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong><em>"Going once. Going Twice. Sold!"</em></strong> it was called off. The auctioneer tugged at the chain, pulling her up from her crouched position. The delicate manicured hands she had been using to cover her breasts moved to cover the trimmed landing strip marking her femininity. <strong><em>"She will be made available shortly sir."</em></strong>, he called out as he brushed her offstage opposite where she had entered. Her chain was handed to yet another worker, and yet again, she was pulled into a brightly lit room. This room appeared out of sorts with the others. It had finished walls, a hardwood floor, vanities, chairs, and other normalcies. It appeared as a makeup room for starlets. Even some women were in the room that weren't cuffed. Guards littered the room as expected. The vanities lacked mirrors, but contained toiletries and makeup and brushes. Compared to the other very industrial style of the remainder of the building, she expected everything to appear as a warehouse. Somehow the relatively common appearance of this room gave her an even colder chill than she had experienced in the rest of this hell, and her flesh quickly goose pimpled in response. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Taylor was led to a vanity and seated in a modest folding chair. Thankfully it was cushioned, and saved her flesh from the cold sting of the metal. <strong><em>"Hands."</em></strong>, the demand came from her handler. She presented her wrists obediently. A pair of cuffs on the floor was raised up, and she could see that they were attached to a heavy eyelet by a chain, confining her to the area of her chair. As she was being shackled, as woman approached her from her right and spoke in the same even tone as the rest of her captors. <strong><em>"My you are a pretty one. We won't have to do a lot to make you presentable at least,"</em></strong> she said, pulling at her wet strands and inspecting her all over. She turned, grabbing a towel, and began to dry Taylor's hair. Fresh tears came again at what felt like a small kindness. The woman was gentle, yet meticulous, akin to a salon worker. Yet it was plain to see by Taylor's cuffs that she was here against her will. <em>Why would these people do this, to innocent girls. Why?</em> She lifted her hands to her forehead to apply some pressure, the headache almost too much. Noticing her distress, the woman offered some water. Nodding hard, Taylor took the bottle to her lips and drank voraciously, unsure of when her next drink or meal might come. Water dripped down her chin as she swallowed hard, dripping below to her thighs, catching some on her chest. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em><strong>"That's good. This water will do you good. You look a little sick,"</strong></em> the woman spoke as eyed Taylor's face. Taylor couldn't stand to look at her, and instead turned away to look down. The woman sighed, then turned back to grab the towel and finish drying her hair. She worked quickly, getting each strand down to only dampened, before picking out a brush from the objects littering the vanity and using it to brush out Taylor's mangled hair. Making quick work of it, she began to apply light makeup the girls hair was brushed dry and straight. Taylor had no idea what she looked like due to a lack of mirrors, but even if she could see herself she wouldn't want to. That would make this horror all to real.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong><em>"You look so pretty,"</em></strong> spoke the woman as she applied mascara, <em><strong>"Now you are fresh-faced and I kept you natural. No need for anything heavy. Unless you keep crying. Dry your eyes. Such a pretty girl shouldn't cry,"</strong></em> she soothed. This only worsened her fat tears, coming slowly and quietly. <em><strong>"You are done. I will be back,"</strong></em> she said before pacing behind her to a wall where racks of silky robes sat and rolls of ribbony tape were available. She brought the items back to Taylor, selecting a black robe from the collection of it's twins, some white sheer panties in a package, and a thick roll of red silken ribbon. <strong><em>"Stand up,"</em></strong> she asked as she began to open the waistband of the pristine snow panties, and yet another woman approached quietly and quickly to assist the first. The panties were lacy and sheer, (http://madebyniki.co.uk/files/sheer%20ivory%20thong%20bridal%20lace.jpg) and their light color deepened Taylor's complexion because of the contrast. Taylor was prompted by a hand on her calf to lift her legs. Although reluctant to play into this incredible operation or dressing a girl before giving her up against her will, Taylor knew it was best to submit. The men in the room had eyes like hawks, watching for any girl to struggle, fingers twitching near the triggers. And her confinement to the floor meant she could be there for a while if she did not comply. She raised her foot, stepping into the soft, cottony lace. The fabric was so sheer it barely concealed anything. Despite this, the woman grabbed a spray bottle and misted her front and back, causing the white material to become even more transparent and also to cling to her curvatures. Taylor could even make out the lips of her labia as the panties held tight to her skin and contours. She wiggled her pedicured toes in embarrassment, a slow flush heating her cheeks. Although she had been naked above an audience, she at least did not have to face any of them through the blinding lights of the stage. This semi-concealment somehow made her more embarrassed. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Next she was subject to the two women rolling out the red ribbon and weaving it (http://th08.deviantart.net/fs71/200H/i/2010/229/0/b/Shibari_Ribbon_by_beloved_rival.jpg) over her body in an intricate fashion (http://th02.deviantart.net/fs22/200H/f/2007/350/0/c/Red_Ribbon_by_ParanoidButterfly.jpg). Over, under, through they weaved, creating beautiful designs (http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a9vhuNoHaBI/TNA6-PeScYI/AAAAAAAAApw/UhBGli1NTxU/s640/stock-photo-naked-young-woman-tied-with-gift-red-ribbon-over-dark-background-56270581.jpg) with the bondage tape, and ending with a bow for embellishment. <em><strong>"They always love a wrapped gift,"</strong></em> the woman spoke in an absent-minded fashion as she finished off the final details. Lastly, she requested a man to bring his keys over to unlock Taylor. A black silky robe was laid over her and tied at the waist with a matching sash, before Taylor's arms were wrenched behind her back by the attending man. <strong><em>"The finest attire for the finest customers,"</em></strong> the woman spoke as thicker leathery bindings were placed on Taylor's ankles. They were adorned with buckles and had another opening attached to them. <strong><em>"You may sit on the floor, on your knees,"</em></strong> the woman spoke and pointed for her to sit. Hands moved behind her to fasten her wrists to the remaining binding on her ankle cuffs. A final broad, heavy black ribbon was placed snugly over her eyes to blind her.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <strong><em>"This one is done,"</em></strong> were the last words spoken by the woman before Taylor felt big arms take her body up and carry her to a door. She would soon be received by her purchaser. Gently she was placed on a carpeted surface, and soon realized she was in the back of a vehicle once she heard the engine turn.</span>
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