4/4/2016 10:28:01 PM: I Am Publicly Auctioned The sheet was ripped from me. I cried out, startled. 'Ascend the block, Slave Girl,' said the man. 'Yes, Master,' I said. He prodded me with his whip. I looked at the worn stairs of solid wood, leading in their spiral upward. I glanced down at the other girls, Sulda and Tupa among them, who sat huddled at the foot of the block, clutching their sheets about them. Sucha, and others, had already been sold. 'It cannot be happening to me,' I said to myself. 'They cannot be going to sell me.' I felt the whip push against my back. Slowly I began to ascend the wide, concave stairs, worn by the bare feet of countless slave girls before me. There were twenty steps to the height of the block. My hair was longer now, as it had not been cut on Gor, save to trim and shape it. It now fell below my shoulders, and swirled behind me, shaped into the 'slave flame.' No longer did I wear the Turian collar; it had been roughly filed from my neck by a male slave, under the whip of his overseer. He had been struck once when he had let his finger touch the side of my neck. I do not know if he did it on purpose or not. No longer did I wear in my left ear the silver leaf, identifying me as a catch of Rask, a warrior and raider of the city of Treve. I had been sold before dawn at a slaver's camp on the outskirts of the city of Ar. I had been thrown naked to the slaver's feet. Swift, expert assessment had been done upon me. I cried out in misery. I brought Rask of Treve, my captor, fifteen copper tarsks. This was not bad for an Earth girl in the current market. This figure had been entered into accounts, on a ledger. On another ledger, one kept by one of Rask's men, this figure was also entered, with a sign following it, indicating him to whose private account the amount was to be credited, he who had taken me, Rask, the warrior of Treve. When the figure pertinent to my sale had been entered in the two ledgers the wire loop, from which dangled the silver leaf, had been cut from my ear. The silver leaf was then returned to him who kept the ledger for Rask of Treve, and he dropped the leaf, with others, into a nearby box. Humiliated, then, I was thrown to the slaver's chain, behind Sulda. A ring lock was placed through the Turian collar, which I wore at the time, and a link in the slaver's chain, and then snapped shut, securing me on the chain by the collar, with the others. The chain was heavy. Tupa was then added to the chain after me. She brought her captor only twelve copper tarsks. 'Hurry, Slave Girl,' called the man at the foot of the stairs. I hesitated. About my neck I wore a light chain, locked; From it depended an oval disk. On this disk was a number, my lot number, or sales number. Sucha, who could read, told me it was 128. She had been 124. We were being sold in the auction house of Publius, on Ar's Street of Brands. It is a minor auction house, usually handling lesser, cheaper slaves, usually females, in greater volumes; it lacks the prestige of such houses as that of Claudius and the Curulean; nonetheless, it is not unfrequented and it has a reputation as a place in which, not unoften, bargains may be obtained. I heard the step of the man on the stairs behind me. I turned about, stricken. 'I am naked,' I said. Did he not understand I was of Earth? I had been sold before, but not like this. I was of Earth! Surely they could not truly be going to display me publicly and sell me at auction! I had been sold before, but privately. The thought of my beauty being exposed so publicly, so brazenly, to large numbers of men, buyers, nauseated me. I looked to the height of the block. I thought I might die. The room was an amphitheater; it was lit by torchlight. I had earlier been exposed in the exhibition cages, that prospective buyers might scan the merchandise at close hand, forming their suppositions as to its value, that their bids later, if they cared to make them, might be shrewd and realistic. In the exhibition cages we were forced to obey the commands of the men outside the cages, moving in certain ways, and such, but they were not permitted to touch us. We were told to smile much in the cages, and be beautiful. I shared my cage with twenty girls, each of us with a chain and disk on our throats. Outside the cage, posted, were our lot numbers, or sales numbers, corresponding with the disk numbers, and a listing of certain of our features, primarily measurements. I heard the man hurrying up the steps behind me. I had spent eight days in the slave pens, waiting the night of the sale. I had been examined medically, in detail, and had had administered to me, while I lay bound, helplessly, a series of painful shots, the purpose of which I did not understand. They were called the stabilization serums. We were also kept under harsh discipline, close confinement and given slave training. I well recalled the lesson which was constantly enforced upon us: 'The master is all. Please him fully.' 'What is the meaning of the stabilization serums?' I had asked Sucha. She had kissed me. 'They will keep you much as you are,' she said, 'young and beautiful.' I had looked at her, startled. 'The masters, and the free, of course, if there is need of it, you must understand, are also afforded the serums of stabilization,' she said, adding, smiling, 'though they are administered to them, I suppose, with somewhat more respect than they are to a slave.' 'If there is need of it?' I asked. 'Yes,' she said. 'Do some not require the serums?' I asked. 'Some,' said Sucha, 'but these individuals are rare, and are the offspring of individuals who have had the serums.' 'Why is this?' I asked. 'I do not know,' said Sucha. 'Men differ.' The matter, I supposed, was a function of genetic subtleties, and the nature of differing gametes. The serums of stabilization effected, it seemed, the genetic codes, perhaps altering or neutralizing certain messages of deterioration, providing, I supposed, processes in which an exchange of materials could take place while tissue and cell patterns remained relatively constant. Ageing was a physical process and, as such, was susceptible to alteration by physical means. All physical processes are theoretically reversible. Entropy itself is presumably a moment in a cosmic rhythm. The physicians of Gor, it seemed, had addressed themselves to the conquest of what had hitherto been a universal disease, called on Gor the drying and withering disease, called on Earth, ageing. Generations of intensive research and experimentation had taken place. At last a few physicians, drawing upon the accumulated data of hundreds of investigators, had achieved the breakthrough, devising the first primitive stabilization serums, later to be developed and exquisitely refined. I had stood in the cage, startled, trembling. 'Why are serums of such value given to slaves?' I asked. 'Are they of such value?' she asked. 'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose so.' She took them for granted, much as the humans of Earth might take for granted routine inoculations. She was unfamiliar with ageing. The alternative to the serums was not truly clear to her. 'Why should slaves not be given the serums?' she asked. 'Do the masters not want their slaves healthy and better able to serve them?' 'It is true,' I said, 'Sucha.' On Earth animals were given inoculations by farmers to protect them from diseases; on Gor it would be a matter of course, provided the serums were readily available, to administer them to slaves. I stood with Sucha, trembling. I had received a gift which on Earth could not be purchased by the riches of the wealthiest men, a gift which was beyond the reach of Earth's mightiest millionaires, which even the billionaires of my planet could not buy, for it did not exist there. I was incredibly rich. I looked at the bars of the cage. 'But I am caged!' I cried. 'Of course,' said Sucha, 'you are a slave. Now rest. Tonight you are to be sold.' I felt the hand of the man tight on my arm, beside me on the step. 'I am naked,' I said. 'You are a slave,' he said. 'Do not show me to the men!' I begged. 'I am not as the other girls.' 'Ascend the block,' said he, 'Slave.' He thrust me upward. I fell on the stairs. My legs trembled. I sensed him lift the whip. 'I will cut the flesh from your body with the whip,' he said. 'No, Master!' I wept. 'Girl 128,' called the auctioneer, from the height of the block. It was an announcement to the crowd. I looked upward. The auctioneer came to the edge of the block. He smiled down, in a kindly fashion. He extended his hand to me. 'Please,' he said. 'I am naked,' I said. 'Please,' he said. He put his hand further toward me. I lifted my hand to him, and he took me by the hand, helping me to the height of the block. The block was circular, and some twenty feet in diameter. There was sawdust upon it. By the hand he led me to the center of the block. 'She is reluctant,' he said to the crowd, in explanation. I stood before the men. 'Are you comfortable now, dear lady?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said. 'Thank you.' Suddenly, angrily, he threw me to the wood at his feet. I heard the hiss of his whip. Five times he lashed me and I screamed, covering my head with my hands. Then I lay trembling, lashed, at his feet. 'She is Girl 128,' he said to the crowd. From an assistant he took a board, with rings and papers. He read from that paper which was now first upon the board, others being loose and thrown back. '128,' he said, reading irritably, 'is brown haired and brown eyed. She is 51 horts in height. Her weight is 29 stones. Her block measurements, certified, are 22 horts, 16 horts, 22 horts. She will take a number-two wrist ring and a number-two ankle ring. Her collar size is ten horts. She is illiterate, and, for most practical purposes, untrained. She cannot dance. Her brand is the Dina, the slave flower. Her ears are pierced.' He looked down at me, and kicked me, lightly, with the side of his foot. 'Stand, Slave,' he said. Swiftly I stood. I looked about myself, miserably. In the torchlight, I could see, in the rings of the amphitheater, ascending before me and above me, on three sides, the crowd. There were aisles at the side, and two aisles in the tiers, with steps. The tiers were crowded, and, on them, men ate and drank. Here and there, too, robed and veiled, I saw women among them, watching me. One woman sipped wine through her veil, staining it. All were fully clothed, save I, who wore only a light chain, locked, with its attached disk of sale. 'Stand straight,' said the auctioneer. I stood straight. My back hurt terribly from the whipping which he had given me. 'So you see 128,' he said. 'Are there any bids?' The crowd was silent. The auctioneer took my hair in his hand and, cruelly, bent me back, standing. '22 horts,' said he, indicating my breasts. '16 horts,' said he, slapping me on the belly. '22 horts,' said he, reaching across my body and placing his hand on my right hip, indicating the width of my body. These were my block measurements. I knew a master might keep me to such measurements, with the whip, if necessary. 'Small,' said he, 'but sweet, a delicacy, noble sirs, with promise.' 'Two tarsks,' called a man from the crowd. 'I hear two tarsks,' said the auctioneer. It was true that I was not large, but I did not think I was unusually small. I was, in Earth measurements, some five feet four inches in height and weighed about one hundred and sixteen pounds. My figure though delicate, was in Earth measurements approximately 28-20-28. I had not known my collar size on Earth, for I had not purchased garments with such attention to the neck. On Gor, it was ten horts. Accordingly it must have been, in Earth measurements, in the neighborhood of twelve and one half inches. I have a slender, delicate neck. I do not know what my wrist and ankle measurements would be. I do know I take a number-two wrist ring and a number-two ankle ring. These run in separate series, the ankle rings being larger, of course, than the wrist rings. It is regarded as desirable in a slave that she takes the same number wrist and ankle ring, this suggesting a delicious symmetry. There are four numbers in the series; one is regarded as small, two and three as normal, and four as large. I could not slip four ankle ring, of course; I could slip a four wrist ring, if it were set at four; most such wrist and ankle rings, however, are adjustable to 1, 2, 3 or 4. Thus, they, like slave bracelets, lock to the perfect holding point on each girl. The auctioneer stood very near me. I did not know my wrist or ankle size in Earth measurements, for such measurements are not important for a girl on Earth as they are on Gor, but the interior circumference of the number-two wrist ring is 5 horts and the interior circumference of the number-two ankle ring is 7 horts; thus, my wrist size in Earth measurement must be about six inches and my ankle size must be about eight and one-half inches. In the slave pens, of course, a girl's measurements are taken on a tape measure marked in horts and entered on her sheet of sale. 'She wears the Dina,' said the auctioneer, indicating to the crowd my brand, the slave flower. 'Would you not like to own this pretty little Dina? Do you have a Dina among your girls?' He twisted my head, held by the hair, from side to side, 'And her ears, noble sirs,' said he, 'are pierced!' This had been done in the pens of the house of Publius, four days earlier. The puncture in my left ear lobe, from the wire of Rask of Treve's silver leaf, his booty claim, was now matched perfectly by a similar penetration of my right ear lobe. I might now be put in earrings. I was now a lowly pierced-ear girl. 'Five tarsks,' called a man, a gross, fat man, swathed in robes, sitting in a middle tier to my right. He sipped from a cup. I shuddered. I could not well see the faces of most of the buyers. It was I, not they, who was well illuminated by the torches. 'Stand straight, suck in your belly, turn your hip out,' said the auctioneer to me, under his breath. I complied. My back still burned from his whip. 'Note,' said the auctioneer, indicating me with his coiled whip, 'the turn of her ankle, the sweetness of her thighs, the tightness of her belly, the pleasure of her figure, the delicacy of her throat, awaiting your collar, the delicacy, sensitivity and beauty of her features.' He looked to the crowd. 'Would you not like her in your compartments?' he inquired. 'Would you not like her m a tunic and collar of your choice, on her knees before you? Would you not like the owning of every inch of her, she your slave, yours to command, hers to obey? Would you not like her serving you, responding swiftly and perfectly in all things to the least whim of your will?' 'Six tarsks,' called a man. 'Six tarsks,' repeated the auctioneer. 'Walk, little Dina,' said he to me. 'And well.' Tears sprang into my eyes; my body burned red with shame. But I walked, and well. I feared his whip. Men cried out with pleasure at the displayed girl upon the block. 'Note the fluidity and grace of her movements,' said the auctioneer, 'the sweetness of her figure, the straightness of her back, the proud carriage of her head. For a few copper tarsks you can own her!' A tear ran down my face, over my left cheek. 'Walk well, little Dina,' cautioned the auctioneer. 'Yes, Master,' I said. I walked, back and forth, turning, red with shame before the buyers. 'Stand proudly, little Dina,' said the auctioneer. I stopped, and stood on the block, my head high. 'Buy her and put her to work for you,' challenged the auctioneer. 'Conceive of her naked in your collar, on her knees, shackled, scrubbing the tiles of your compartments. Consider her cleaning and washing and sewing for you. Consider her shopping for you and cooking! Consider her entertaining and waiting upon your guests! Consider her waiting in the furs for you!' 'Ten tarsks,' said a man. 'Ten tarsks,' said the auctioneer. 'Eleven,' said another man, from the left. 'Eleven,' said the auctioneer. I looked out upon the crowd, the men and women. There must have been some four hundred in the amphitheater. Vendors moved about, among them, proffering light foods and beverages. I lightly fingered the chain and sales disk at my throat. I saw a man buy a roll of meat, wrapped about a sauce. He began to eat, looking at me. Our eyes met. I looked away. Some men conversed among themselves, not noticing me. I hated them! I did not wish to be looked upon, but they did not look upon me! 'Examine this beauty,' said the auctioneer, indicating me with his whip. 'Consider the perfection of her block measurements. 22 horts, 16 horts, 22 horts!' he cried, jabbing me with the whip. 'Fourteen copper tarsks,' called a man. 'Fourteen!' cried the auctioneer. 'But can the house let this little beauty slip its collar for a mere fourteen tarsks? Say, no, Noble Sirs!' 'Fifteen,' said a man. 'Fifteen,' said the auctioneer. I knew I had been sold by Rask of Treve to a slaver for fifteen copper tarsks. The slaver who had purchased me had sold me to the house of Publius for twenty copper tarsks. The auctioneer doubtless knew this; doubtless it was entered on my records. The auctioneer looked at me. 'Girl,' said he to me, softly, menacingly, 'you will, whether sold or not, spend this night in our pens. Is that clearly understood?' 'Yes, Master,' I whispered. He was not satisfied with the bids. If I did not go for a price which satisfied the house I would spend the night under Gorean slave discipline. I would doubtless be richly whipped. 'On your belly, little Dina,' he said. 'Let us interest the buyers.' 'Yes, Master,' I said. I fell upon my belly at his feet, awaiting his commands. I looked up, terrified, afraid that he might strike me with the whip. I lay there for a long moment. He did not strike me. The crowd was amused at my terror. 'You will be prompt, obedient and beautiful, 128,' said the auctioneer to me, softly. 'Yes, Master,' I said. Then, suddenly, snapping the whip, he said, harshly, 'On your back, one knee lifted, the other leg extended, hands over your head, wrists close, as though confined in slave bracelets.' I complied. Then he began to put me rapidly through the paces of the exhibited female slave; he held me in each position for the sweet instant that well revealed me, tantalizingly, in that attitude or posture, and then barked forth a new command, to a new position or attitude; the sequence of these moves was not an accident; each move followed easily, sometimes by a roll or turn, from the preceding position; shrewd rhythm and flow, calculated and sensual, physically melodious, characterized the performance humiliatingly inflicted upon me; I must submit to the choreography of slave display; I, who had been Judy Thornton, a girl of Earth, was put through Gorean slave paces; then I lay on my belly at his feet, as I had begun; I was trembling; I was covered with sweat; my hair was loose about my head and eyes; I felt the auctioneer's foot upon my body; I put my head to the block. 'What am I bid?' he called. 'Eighteen tarsks,' called a man. 'Eighteen,' said the auctioneer. 'Nineteen? Do I hear nineteen?' 'Nineteen,' called a man. My tears stained the block. I felt its sawdust with my finger tips. Its sawdust, too, adhered to my body, held by the sweat. The leather of the auctioneer's whip, loosely coiled, was near my back. I looked up. There were women in the crowd. Why did they not rise up and cry out in protest at the indignity inflicted upon their sister? But they looked upon me impassively. I was only a slave. 'Twenty,' called a man. 'Twenty,' said the auctioneer. He removed his foot from my body and tapped me on the back with the whip. 'Kneel,' he said. I knelt on the block, near its front, miserable, in the position of the pleasure slave, the light chain and sales disk on my throat. 'I have a bid of twenty copper tarsks for this lovely little beauty,' said the auctioneer. 'Do I hear a bid of more?' He looked out, over the crowd. I knelt very still. I knew the house had paid twenty tarsks for me. 'Twenty-one,' called a man. 'Twenty-one,' said the auctioneer. I breathed more easily. The profit was small, but it had been turned upon me. I was very conscious of the sales disk at my throat; it was on a looped, close-fitting chain; I could not remove the chain; it was locked. Twenty-one tarsks had been bid upon me. I would not be a loss to the house of Publius. It costs only a pittance to maintain and train a girl in the barred, straw-strewn pens of a slaver's house. What is the cost of gruel and a whip? 'I have heard a bid of twenty-one tarsks,' called the auctioneer. 'Do I hear a bid for more?' The crowd was silent. I was suddenly frightened. What if the house were not satisfied with the profit they had turned? Surely it was not much. I hoped they would be satisfied. I had done my best to obey the auctioneer. I did not wish to be whipped. Gorean males tend not to be lenient with girls who have displeased them. 'Stand, Collar Meat,' said the auctioneer, I stood. 'It seems,' said the auctioneer, 'that we must let this little beauty go for a mere twenty-one copper tarsks.' 'Please do not be angry with me, Master,' I begged. 'It is all right, little Dina,' he said, with surprising pleasantness, considering how harshly he had managed me upon the block. I swiftly knelt before him, holding his knees, looking up. 'Is Master pleased?' I asked. 'Yes,' he said. 'Then Dina will not be whipped?' I asked. 'Of course not,' he said. He looked down, pleasantly. 'It is not your fault,' he said, 'that the market is slow.' 'Thank you, Master,' I said. 'Now, on your feet, little beauty,' he said, 'and hurry from the block, for we have more animals to sell.' 'Yes, Master,' I said, swiftly rising to my feet. I turned to descend the block, on the stairs on the opposite side from that from which I had ascended the block. 'One moment, little Dina,' he said. 'Come here.' 'Yes, Master,' I said, running lightly to him. 'Place your hands in your hair,' he said, 'and do not remove them until you are given permission.' 'Master?' I asked. I placed my hands in my hair. He took me by the back of the neck with his left hand and turned me to the crowd. 'Behold, Noble Sirs and Ladies,' he said. Suddenly I screamed fighting the looped, heavy coil of the whip. 'Stop! Please stop, Master!' I cried in misery. I dared not remove my hands from my hair. I feared I would, in my helplessness, tear out my own hair. 'Please, stop, Master!' I cried out, twisting and squirming, held in place by his hand on my neck. I tried to fight the sensation of the whip. 'Writhe, little Dina,' he said, 'writhe.' I cried out, begging him to stop. 'Did you truly think,' he hissed, 'we would take a profit of only a copper tarsk on you? Do you think us fools to buy a girl for twenty and sell her for twenty-one? Do you not think we know our trade, little slut?' I screamed for mercy. Then, his demonstration finished, he released my neck. I fell to my knees before him on the block. My head was down. My hands were still in my hair. 'You may remove your hands from your hair,' he said. I took my hands from my hair and put them over my face, weeping. I shut my knees tightly, trembling, sobbing. 'Forty copper tarsks,' I heard call from the floor, 'from the Tavern of Two Chains.' 'The Pleasure Silk bids fifty tarsks,' I heard. I had been tricked. The auctioneer had caught me by surprise. Without warning I had been forced to reveal myself as a true slave girl, openly, inadvertently, spontaneously, incontrovertibly, helplessly. 'The Jeweled Ankle Ring bids seventy,' I heard. He had handled his work well. He had exacted from the crowd the highest possible price in the given market before he revealed, unexpectedly and to her dismay, the delicious richness and vulnerability of the girl's exploitable latencies, they as much a part of her as her block measurements, and as much for sale. My responsiveness, like my intelligence, my service and my skills, such as they were, came with my price. The Gorean is satisfied only with the whole girl; it is the whole girl that he buys. 'The Perfumed Rope bids eighty copper tarsks,' I heard. I could not believe the bids. 'She is Paga hot,' laughed a man. 'True,' said another. 'I wish I had her in my collar.' On the block I sobbed, kneeling. I could not help that I had responded as I had to the touch of the whip. I could not help it! 'The Silver Cage bids eighty-five,' I heard. I wept, shuddering. I had been exhibited naked. I was being sold to the highest bidder. And I knew that I was not being sold merely as a beautiful girl, for such a girl might have gone for twenty-one tarsks, but as something more, as a beautiful slave girl. 'I have heard from the agent of the Silver Cage,' called the auctioneer, 'a bid of eighty-five copper tarsks. Is there another bid?' 'The Belled Collar,' I heard, 'bids one silver tarsk.' There was silence in the hall. 'There is a bid of one silver tarsk,' said the auctioneer. I could tell he was pleased. I looked down, shuddering, my knees closely together. The recent bids had been by the agents of paga taverns. I had some notion of what it would be to be a paga slave. The belled, silked girls of the taverns were well known in the cities of Gor. Their purpose was to please the customers of their master. They came with the price of a cup of paga. 'The Belled Collar has given us a bid of one silver tarsk,' called the auctioneer. 'Is there a higher bid?' I looked up, and, startled, saw the eyes of the various women, over their veils, upon me. The holding of their bodies, and what I could see of their faces, frightened me. I was regarded by them now with unmistakable hostility. It is hard to be naked, as a slave, before a woman. They make you feel doubly naked. I would rather there had been only men in the market. Were the women comparing their beauty with mine, perhaps unfavorably? Were they wondering, perhaps, if they might give a man more pleasure than I? I wondered why now, for the first time, they looked upon me with such resentment, such anger. Before they had only looked upon me as merely another girl slave, to be sold from the block in her turn for a handful of copper tarsks. But now they looked upon me differently. Now they looked upon me with the fury of the free woman for the hot, desirable female slave. Were they jealous? Did they resent the interest of men? Did they wish that it was they upon the block? I did not know. Free women are often cruel to beautiful female slaves. They put us under terrifying discipline. Perhaps they sense in us something of greater interest to men than themselves, something which constitutes to them a threat, something which is subtly competitive, and successfully so, to them. I do not know. Perhaps they fear us, or the slave in themselves. I do not know. Mostly I suspect the women were furious with me because I had been responsive to the touch of the auctioneer's whip. Free women, desiring to yield, pride themselves on their capacity not to yield, to maintain their quality and integrity; slave girls, on the other hand, are not permitted such luxuries; they, whether they desire to yield or not, must yield, and totally; perhaps free women wish they did not have to be free, and could relate in biological naturalness, like the slave girl, to the dominant organism. Perhaps they wish they were slaves. I do not know. One thing is certain, and that is that there is a deep, psychological hostility on the part of the free woman for her sister in bondage, particularly if she be beautiful. Slave girls, accordingly, fear free women; slave girls want to be locked in the collars of men, not women. To make matters worse the women in the tiers, because of the bidding, now saw me, and understood me, as a girl destined for the taverns, hot, spiced meat, delicious to men, a delectable accompaniment, like the music, to the tawny fire of paga. Some of them looked at their companions, or escorts. Did they wonder if some of them might now frequent a new paga tavern? I shuddered. I feared the hostility of the women, for I was a slave. 'Stand, little Dina,' said the auctioneer. I stood. I brushed back my hair. I choked back my sobs. I looked out to the crowd, to the men, and the women. 'I have from the tavern of the Belled Collar,' said the auctioneer, 'a bid of one silver tarsk. Is there a higher bid?' Strangely, at that time, I thought of Elicia Nevins, who had been my rival at the college. How amused she would be, I thought, to see me being sold naked from a block. 'Sold to the Belled Collar for a silver tarsk!' said the auctioneer. I had been sold. He then thrust me toward the stairs and I, stumbling, descended the stairs, on the side opposite from that from which I had ascended the block. 'Girl 129!' I heard him call. At the foot of the block a man from the house took me by the wrist and pulled me to a chain. Slave bracelets were fixed on the chain. He thrust me behind the last girl on the chain; she was kneeling, braceleted to the chain, facing away from me; her head was down. 'Kneel,' he said; I knelt; he fastened my wrists in the dangling slave bracelets, attached to the chain; I then knelt at the chain, secured; in time another girl who, too, had been sold, was placed on the chain behind me; and then another, and another. I knelt, locked in the bracelets, secured to the chain. I had been sold.

4/4/2016 10:12:47 PM: Maybe one day, I'll be know as the destroyer of the order, but most likely the destroyer of my own life. I'll put it in a more narrative form, so it's easier to follow. The master, I'm looking for will follow this despite all my please, despite all my objections. Will sign a legal contract, that puts all my assets to you upon completion, not that you won't want to complete it. I want to be in the next order of evolution. That which takes women to a natural state that makes us happier, and men more able. After signing the contract, I resign my job and end all things and wait. I know I'll see you again by the end of the month, but not when. I've sold my car and put in escrow for you when I'm walking to the grocery store. That's when I realize it's happening. A white cargo van drives up aside me and you pull me in, you masked, and putting a bag over my head and in a duffel bag. A camera's filming as you put a o ring in my mouth that will stay for the next month, and force a cup of vodka down my throat. As nausea takes over, I arrive at your place or the seedy motel you chose where a body artist is waiting. He tattoos a tramp stamp over my ass that says Your Name'S Bitch. Then three piercings in my tounge so that if I ever try to talk it will be stilted, nipple extenders, and my clit where you insert a vibrating egg. Finally, with gaudy whore make-up, dark eyeshadow, rouge, red lips, and overdone lip and eyeliner. I pass out. The next morning, when I wake up, you hose me off. I haven't eaten, and I won't for a few days. But being dehydrated from the alcohol, I notice there is only one play to get any water and the one place I get all water and my all liquid diet from now on. Two 12'' dildos that when I suck on, one gives water, and the other gives liquid food. As I try to walk over there, I notice it's a bit difficult. padlocked to my feet are 6'' heels so that I'll never run away and than when finally taken off a few months later, it'll hurt to walk without heels, and weights hanging from my nipple extenders. Around my neck is a shock collar. These are the only clothes I'll wear for the rest of my life. The only exception is when I go outside in public where you'll permit me to wear a too small white tank top, and a mini skirt. However, my job is not to look sexy. I'm not a whore, I'm not a slut. I'm a bitch. That's an animal. To my surprise, you let me look revolting with the permanent make up and big saggy tits as you never let me cut my hair, but also never shave. I'm never allowed to speak, as you shock me if I do. With hypnotism, physically punishment, and brainwashing, my only job is to go into heat which I do automatically everytime I see a man, looking for his crotch. His glorious crotch. And just like a bitch in heat, it will be impossible to stop my thoughts, unable to voice them, and painful when you don't let me. Any children brought in, will be provided to those good unfortuntate families who aren't able to conceive, while I walk around nothing more than a saggy heifer, being milked hourly, as I'm stuck as your bitch for the rest of my life.