"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 07

He held up the tip of the rubber handle, which was shaped like the head of a bulbous penis. "I think you know where this end goes, Northwestern. Rosco told me you said The Big D's a shithole. Is that true, Northwestern?"

Merle's smile disappeared as his face hardened. Sensing my plane was in a tailspin, I desperately tried to pull out of the dive. But with the gag in my mouth, it came out as babble.

"You got a sassy mouth on you, Northwestern. It's time you learned some respect for the iron."

Atkins pressed another switch, and the bars over my hips retracted sightly, allowing me to move my hips as he fucked me with the branding iron handle. Or, to be more accurate, as I fucked the handle, because most of the movement was coming from me.

I didn't resist, reasoning that if I was going to be branded again, I needed all the endorphins I could muster, and if I wasn't, I didn't want to miss this one last chance to play slave girl. As if reason had anything to do with humping Merle's branding iron. The perverse humiliation of being a naked slave girl at Rita's feet, begging for my life--or at least for my freedom and my ass--had left me incredibly hot and bothered. When I had been her kid sister, and squarely under her thumb, she had referred to her scolding's as "a good dressing down." Now she had dressed me down literally, and I was a slave, naked at her feet.

Rita had given me the perfect gift, the best of both worlds. She had let me play slave girl but had rescued me at the last minute. It would be ungrateful not to enjoy the gift to its fullest.

In front of me, the branding irons Merle had so carefully prepared for me were heating, and I could see a bouquet of branding handles sticking out of the fire. The heat was rolling over me, which was both terrifying and exciting. There was a leather strap at the end of the large, penis shaped branding iron handle he was fucking me with. The leather loop was used to hang the branding iron on a peg hook, but I enjoyed the extra friction, and took it all.

Professor Atkin's voice was calm as I humped the branding iron handle that he had designed to brand my ass, my excitement building to explosive levels.

"You know, there are a lot of butts I'd like to brand, celebrities and such. I've done a few, mostly actresses who were going to play slave girls, and came down to The Big D to get a little slave training and a temporary. Getting your butt branded is good Oscar bait, and the Academy eats it up. But there's quite a few that weren't even doing it for a role, and got a private Prime grading, so they could get The Big D branded between their butt cheeks, just like you. There's something about that Big D that girls just love. I must say, looking at yours, they did a quality job, worthy of Prime pussy. That one's a keeper!"

I didn't know if The Big D that was already branded in the crease between my butt cheeks was permanent, but his reference to it as "a keeper" only made me work the stick all the harder.

"But of all the celebrities and rich bitches I've done, I've always wanted to do you the most, Anne. Every time Skeeter would tell me about you taking him to your townhouse in London, or to the Superbowl, or the Oscar after parties, all the while prick teasing him, and asking him what sort of price you'd bring on the block, I'd look up your latest commencement address or feminist rant at some woke charity, and watch it over-and-over, dreaming of getting you on my branding rack, with your butt in the air. You're quite the little Karen, and your white ass has been my white whale. So, you just hump that stick, like a good little slave girl, and show me how much you want Professor Atkin's iron."

It wasn't the first time I'd been called a Karen, and in truth I didn't think demanding excellent service, given who I was and the prices I paid, was at all unreasonable. I knew I'd been Skeeter's fantasy, and probably the fantasy of his friends, and probably Rosco, too, and probably most of the men who worked for me and strove to meet my exacting standards. I loved to make men drool. However, I had never dreamed that somewhere there was a blacksmith university professor stroking off as he watched my Ted talks, designing a special branding iron with my name on it.

Professor Atkins had dreamed of this moment, and had worked hard developing the skills he was going to use to brand my helpless bottom. It would be rude of me not to play along a little longer, and let him have his fun, while I had mine.

My pussy was humming, but Merle was taking his time, and so was I. Good things should never be rushed. My slow boat ride into slave girl bliss was interrupted by Rosco's familiar voice as my family entered the room.

"Hey, Merle, how's it going? See your keeping Annie busy!" he said, clearly amused.

"Holy shit!" Skeeter said. "She's humping the branding iron. SHE'S HUMPING THE BRANDING IRON!"

"What in tarnation..." Rita's twang betrayed her disgust. "Here I am, working my butt off tryin' to spring ya' from this place, and all you can do is hump a branding stick. For Pete's sake, Annie, show a little dignity."

Rita walked around to look at my face. "You're slobbering like a St. Bernard. Why's that crazy O thing in her mouth?"

"It's so she doesn't bite her tongue off during the branding," Rosco explained.

"Well, it makes her look like some sort of stupid sex doll, sucking ding-dongs. For crying out loud, Annie, stop humpin' that stick. Skeeter's watchin!"

"I sure am!" Skeeter said. "Her pussy is AMAZING! She's riding that stick like a pogo pony!"

"Yeah, she's wet as an otter pocket and tight as a tick," Rosco said. "If she wasn't the best slave pussy I ever had, she was damn close."

"What the fuck!" Rita said, clearly infuriated.

"It wasn't my fault, sweetie," Rosco said, backtracking. "It's not like we're really related. She's Prime. She seduced me! Besides, you gave me a hall pass, remember?"

Rita looked down at me. "Is that true, Annie? Did you seduce him?"

I tried to explain that my "seduction" was him seeding me on the hard floor of his office, not even bothering to lay me down on his couch, but with the gag in my mouth, and Merle relentlessly working my pussy with the branding dildo, all that came out was slobber and grunts.

"For crying out loud, Annie, stop humpin' that stick!" Rita said, clearly angry.

I heard Merle chuckle as he moved his thumb around to tease my button, ensuring that my shameful performance would continue.

"I'm trying to git' you out of here, girl. Do you WANT to git' yer butt branded?"

"Of course, she does," Rosco said. "All true slave sluts are hungry for the iron. Can't you see her humping away?"

"Is that true, Annie?" Rita said. "You want them to finish off that Skeeter's little doddle bug?"

"No! Let me go! Make him stop fucking me with the stick!" I said frantically. With my mouth in an "O" it came out as:

"Auuh!

"Et ee oo!"

"aaa mm oo uh-huh eh uh uh i!"

My frantic plea caused my slobber to fly over the front of Rita's skirt.

"Shit! Yer' getting' slave drool all over my new skirt!"

I didn't object as Rita wiped her skirt with my hair. It wasn't uncommon to use a slave girl's long hair as handy rag, or even as a mop, but Rita using my hair that way showed how quickly my start was dimming.

"I mean it, Annie," she said, wagging her finger in my face like we were kids again. "You stop humpin' that stick right now, or you'll be sorry, young lady!"

I tried to stop humping the stick, but that only caused Merle to do the work for me, which kept my hips rocking. I did squirm a bit, with my button under his beefy thumb, even though I tried not to--but damn it if I couldn't stop. Perverse as it sounds, Rita's finger wagging, and her threats, made self-control all the harder.

"Fine," Rita said, her voice sharp with disgust. "If this is what ya' want, this is what yer' gonna git. She's all yers, Rosco. But I want her cleaned up and deloused before ya' take er back to the hotel. Give 'er a good scrub. I don't want no crotch critters near where I sleep."

Rita, disgusted, turned and walked out, leaving me to the mercy of three men who clearly had no mercy.

"Please, don't go!" turned into "EESE ONT OHH!" as I watched my final hope of escape walk out the door.

"No need to scream for it, slave girl, we're going to fix ya' REAL good," Skeeter said, running his hand over the doodle bug brand on my ass, even as he laid on his mother's Southern drawl.

I heard a voice behind me as someone else entered. "We need a Tesla logo on her left butt cheek. Can you do it right now? We got the buyer waiting."

Merle Atkins, ever the professional, immediately switched gears. "Yeah, I got the text. Let me scan her in, and I'll get it done right now," Merle said. "Rosco and Skeeter can keep this one busy."

Why someone wanted a Tesla logo burned on some poor girl's ass eluded me, but I had bigger problems as Rosco moved around to the front and unzipped his pants. "It's time for you to tip the man who made your branding possible, slave girl," he said, smiling down at me. I know you can't close your lips, but I'm expecting lots of tongue."

Knowing what was required of me, I swirled my tongue diligently as Rosco put his sweaty pecker into my wide-open mouth.

Behind me, Skeeter must have pulled out the branding handle Professor Atkins had left unceremoniously sticking out of my twat. I grunted with pleasure as he cupped my wet sex in his hand and laughed. "Damn, if you don't got the hottest, tightest slave beaver I've ever seen. You were worth that record price. Everybody was pretty pissed when we unwound your sale. Here we are, going into Christmas, and half the women in Dallas want to get slave graded for the holiday, or mailed to their boyfriends on Christmas Eve. Now everybody's gotta deal with your circus act."

I felt Skeeter run the tip of his penis against my wet slot, laughing as I pushed back. "Hold yer' horses, there, slave girl. I can see why Jake ayn't going to sign the paper until the morning. You really stirred the hornet's nest, Anna-Annie, but you're gonna make it up to us--to ME, right now. Speaking of nests..."

I grunted as my horny nephew sank his teenage hardness balls deep into my pussy, and I began to hump back at him like the slutty slave girl I was, as I swirled my tongue around the bulbous head of Rosco's pecker. Both Skeeter and I got to live out our fantasies at the same moment, and underneath my sense of humiliation and outrage a once-in-a-lifetime climax was building.

What does a girl do, when reality exceeds one's wildest fantasies? If you're me, you ride it for all it's worth. That combination of pleasure and submission was better than all my fantasies.

Skeeter, anxious to make it last, gave me a hard slap on the ass to slow me down. His more experienced father, though, simply let me roll my tongue around his cock like it was a full-service car wash, licking the sensitive underside and teasing the vent as the saliva formed a sloppy pool in my mouth for his pecker to slosh around in.

"Damn, you're good at this," Rosco grunted. "A natural born cocksucker! I've never had a girl with an "O" gag in her mouth manage THIS sort of action. It's like putting your dick in a whirligig."

"She's a natural talent, all right," Skeeter agreed. "Lot'sa hot girls out there, but ya' don't never find pussy as hot as my Anna-Annie!" giving my branded ass another hard slap.

Skeeter stopped, and slowed me down by caressing the doodle bug on my throbbing bottom.

"This sure is purty, Anna-Annie. Kind of a hoot, thinking of ya' in yer bikini on Oak Street Beach in Chicago, or at The East Bank Club or your masseuse, and everybody and-their-brother sees my big old doodle bug branded right on yer butt. Hard to believe a sketch I drew at school went from being up on my mom's fridge to being on my boots, my shirts, yer' art wall in Chicago, and now yer' slave girl ass. You're always telling me I need to develop my brand, Anna-Annie. Well, now you got mine. You're going to go back to Chicago, and give me a lot of free advertising."

It's said that older men have patience, and younger men have enthusiasm, but the opposite was true in this case. I could tell that Rosco was happy to get it over with, while Skeeter wanted to draw things out. A great Pleasure Slut can anticipate and accommodate her master's--or in this case masters'-- every need.

I concentrated on Rosco. For my entire life I had always been the best at everything I did. As a naked, collared slave girl, I no longer had to worry about taxes or interest rates or the inversion curve. I was now free to focus the entirety of my intellect on being the dirtiest cocksucker in Dallas.

I started with "the look", gazing up at him like he was People's Sexiest Man Alive, my lover, and my daddy all rolled into one. As I couldn't use my lips or close my mouth, I trapped his pecker between the roof of my mouth and the top of my tongue, moving the latter from side to side to build up friction on the sensitive underside.

I groaned with pleasure, as if having his dirty pecker twitching in my mouth and ready to spurt was the sole goal of my life. The odd part was that in a way, it was. I had fantasized for years about being the juiciest slave slut ever. Bound to a rack waiting for my ass to be branded while sucking off my brother-in-law and getting reamed by my nephew, I finally had my chance.

It took about seven seconds in my high-pressure carwash for Rosco to hit a gusher. The first spurt hit the roof of my mouth, but the rest pumped out more like a pitcher of milk than an exploding oil derrick. Rosco was older now, and less fertile, plus he had ridden me like a stallion on the floor of his office less than 24 hours before.

I didn't have to open my mouth to show him that I hadn't swallowed, as I was sure the gobs of his spluge were left visible on my tongue. "Not bad," he said, scratching me behind the ear like I was a golden retriever. "You earned my jizz today, slave girl."

Rosco squeezed out the last few drops and wiped them off around my nostrils, "so you'll have something to smell when Atkins brands your ass."

Turning to Skeeter he got back down to business. "Tomorrow is probably going to be a shit-show because of this little stunt your aunt has pulled. I'm going to try to get some real work done, so I have time to shovel up her mess. I'll leave her butt branding to you."

"Got it," Skeeter said.

So, there it was. My butt branding, which was the most shattering thing that had ever happened to me, wasn't important enough for Rosco to bother watching. He was going to catch up on paperwork instead.

After all, I was only another slave girl.

After his father left, Skeeter relaxed and began pumping me again, albeit more slowly. "I'm going to take my time with you, Anna-Annie. A fella doesn't want to rush something he's been wanting his whole life. You are a world class prick-teaser, but today you are a world class prick-pleaser."

I winced inside, because Skeeter was right. I had mercilessly prick-teased him for years, and I knew that whatever he dished out, I had it coming. I always thought of him as a sweet, innocent kid, easily mentored and manipulated.

"Don't be Mr. Nice Guy all the time," I always said. "Winning is no fun if you can't gloat and take a little revenge." Little did I realize at the time how well I had trained him, or how devious my nephew's revenge would be.

Skeeter continued to fondle my doodle bug as he gave me a nice, slow hump. "The branding rack is sort of a good angle for this, actually. Face down, with your ass in the air, I mean. I know you don't think much of my slavin' degree at my "shitty community college," as you delicately put it, but I did pretty well at animal husbandry. When I spurt, all my little swimmers are going to run down into you, nice and deep, with nothing to stop 'em. Personally, I think Dad was too old to seed you. You're going to be the star of the paper I'm writing next week on slave breeding. You get preggers, and I get an "A"."

Reaching into his pocket, Skeeter took out a trojan and held it in front of my face. "This here is called a rubber. Oh, did you want me to use one of these?" he teased. "I suppose that would be nice, with you bragging about how you don't need no birth control, because you blue ball all your boyfriends. Well, it sure would come in handy right about now, wouldn't it, Anna Annie?"

"The heck of it is, in class I learned you don't bother using these with slave girls, since if they get knocked up, it's their problem, right? Stupid little sluts, getting' preggers all the time. Good thing ya' can sell the pups and make a little money on the side."

Skeeter tossed the condom on the floor in front of me. "I'm going to drop this little cum catcher right on the floor, so you can look at it. I guess you could buy a rubber, if you had any money. Pretty funny, really. Talking about your JP Morgan Reserve Card and your million dollars, and now you're going to get big-fat-and-wide because you don't even have 50 cents to buy a cock sock. I guess that's what it's like being poor, huh, not that you'd know. But yer' gonna find out."

Skeeter pushed in slowly, taking his time, savoring the sensation. "Oh, you feel good. You're riding bareback tonight, cowgirl, because this time it's all about me. I love the way your bare pussy grips my cock. And knowing all my little swimmers are boilin' and bublin', just bursting for a chance to swim down your water slide and make you preggers, makes it all the hotter."

"You might be wondering why I'm so hot on getting you knocked up, besides getting' an 'A' on my paper, I mean. One of the things I learned at my community college that you look down yer' nose at is that if a girl gets free, and it turns out her master made her pregnant, she gets automatically enslaved again. Ayn't that the funniest thing? Yeah, it'd be a darn shame if that happened to you, Anna-Annie, especially what with you bein' so close to mom freein' you."

I whimpered in distress, staring at the condom. I stopped humping back. This couldn't be happening.

"But that's not the only reason. Since she had me, you know mom can't have any more kids. That other night after dinner, when you were dry humpin' my leg, mom said to dad that if you were ever a slave girl, he hoped that one of us knocked ya' up, so she could finally have that second child she always wanted."

"Dad said you'd be a pain-in-the-ass pregnant, but mom said she wasn't even gonna deal with that, she'd send you to one of those breedin' barn places where they make all the little slave girl Shamus work the fields, then just take 'em into the birthin' barn and let 'em drop their litter into the straw when they're ready. I actually visited in on a class trip. Pretty nice place, at least for the folks who run it. Mom said that if they leave you to serve in the dairy for a year after you drop, they don't even charge nothing for kenneling you and giving you all the nutrients and slave kibble and vet services. Mom said it's like getting a free surrogate adoption. How sweet is that?"

My eyes bulged, and I groaned in misery as Skeeter quickened his pace. Reading my mind, Skeeter laughed. "Oh, you want that rubber, don't ya'? No, slave girls don't get no protection. Slave girls get to bite on a stick while the vet delivers their pup, then muck out their stalls to clean up the mess they made in the straw. Don't worry, you'll like the dairy, and I'll come visit you, and buy some of your milk. Moo-moo!"

"Remember what ya' said to me? 'Fear is for girls who don't have platinum cards. Well, you should be afraid of getting preggers, because slave girls don't have no platinum cards. It's okay to grunt. You're jist another piece of livestock being put to stud. If you do end up on that breedin' farm, you and I will have lots more time to play."