Charity Auction
Chapter 14
Tulsa was surprised to find that her "uniform" for the beginning of the evening's
festivities was the same outfit she'd so carefully selected for that first auction exactly
one year ago. Now she was going to be wearing it for another auction, but this time
there was no pretense of fantasy play. This time, it was for real. She was truly a slave,
about to be sold to the highest bidder, who would have complete control over her,
indeed, the ability to determine whether she should live or die.
It felt strange to be wearing so much clothing, even as skimpy and revealing as it was.
The closest thing to any clothing Tulsa had been permitted at any time during the past
year was a cotton apron while cooking, and a sanitary pad during her periods. She'd
also been put in a diaper twice, just before being punished for disobedience. Nobody
had wanted to deal with her shitting herself during either of those beatings. But except
for those few occasions, Tulsa's attire had consisted solely of her ever-present spiked
heel sandals and collar. By comparison, what she was wearing tonight seemed
like...well, she couldn't even remember what it was like, there not being much of a
frame of reference in recent history for her.
One thing Tulsa hadn't had any recent experience in was wearing makeup like she did
in her pre-slave days. Sure, she still used makeup regularly, but it was always applied
in a slutty manner, to make her look like a street whore. Tonight, she was going to
appear as close as possible to the way she looked that night at the old theater. Another
slave, a former Hollywood makeup artist who had come to the island after running afoul
of some unsavory organized crime characters, worked from a photograph and
reconstructed Tulsa's original appearance as well as she could. It was still slutty, but
not nearly a slutty as she was used to these days.
Her bald head was easily covered with a wig - manufactured with her own hair, no less -
and eyebrows were painted on. Of course, it was neither possible nor desirable to hide
all of the physical changes that had taken place. The tiny black lace bra, for example,
no longer fit at all, so her upper body was covered only by the translucent lace top,
which now barely covered the nipples on her enormous udders and left her midriff bare.
Likewise, many of the other modifications had changed her appearance somewhat, but
it was certain that everyone present would have no problem recognizing her from her
pre-slave photographs.
The preparatory work done, Tulsa was told to stand quietly in the corner of her room,
nose against the wall, and finger herself until she was called for. It wasn't long before
she was once again whimpering in need, her fingers coated with the juices that flowed
like a small river down her thighs.
Finally, much to her relief, one of the clinic staff came in and ordered her to stop playing
with her pussy. Snapping a short leash to her collar, he led the shaking slave from the
room
The slave was given a quick tour of her temporary home, and a brief explanation of the
sequence that would be followed for the auction. The clinic's owners had long ago
learned that a slave would tend to bring in a considerably higher price...and, therefore,
a higher commission for the clinic...if she wasn't terrified. In order to alleviate the fears
that all slave girls have to one extent or another, it was decided that the subjects would
be given a thorough briefing on the process. Once briefed, Tulsa began her evening's
duties.
As her prospective buyers arrived, Tulsa met them at the door. Kneeling submissively,
she kissed each person's shoe and told him (or her...there were several women among
the group) that she hoped she was found worthy of purchase.
Once all the guests had arrived, a cocktail tray was hung by sturdy chains from her
nipple rings, and filled with a variety of drinks. The back of the tray rested against
Tulsa's taut belly, as the weight of the tray and its contents pulled her udders painfully
downward. With her wrists chained behind her back, Tulsa circulated throughout the
room, offering drinks from her tray to the assembled slave owners. As she wandered,
she was subjected to the most intimate prodding, poking and pinching of her body, her
ears burning and her face turning red at the crude comments made about her.
Once the cocktail tray was empty of its wares, the slave was ushered back into the
changing room for her next transformation. This time, her face was made up as though
she were a teenager trying to look "sophisticated." In other words, virginally slutty, with
too much lip gloss, excessive blush, and an overabundance of eye shadow. After the
gloss black wig, cut in a pageboy style, was placed on her head, she was given her next
costume. This time, she would be a French maid, decked out with a starched white
maid's hat topping a skimpy costume that exposed more than it covered. A frilly white
apron over a tiny black miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, and absurdly high patent
leather spiked heel shoes - a full size too small for her - made it impossible for her to
walk at all without exposing her not-so-private parts. In fact, her labia were seductively
visible from under the tiny skirt, the rings in full view.
Once properly attired, Tulsa was led back out into the main room, where she found the
guests sitting around a large banquet table, waiting to be served their dinner. Serving,
of course, would be Tulsa's job.
It was a seven course meal, and each dish was individually delivered by the slave,
displaying the appropriate etiquette for the task. A variety of several wines was also
offered, and the slave had to return to the kitchen whenever a glass needed to be filled,
lest the wine get warm. While the bidders casually relaxed and ate their meal, the slave
scampered about the table, filling glasses, clearing dishes, retrieving items for her
guests. It seemed that every time someone at one end of the table wanted something,
that particular dish was at the other end. By the time dessert had been served and the
dinner dishes cleared from the table, Tulsa was covered with perspiration again, and
she strained to keep the pain in her feet from the too-tight shoes from being visible on
her face. While dessert was being eaten, Tulsa was taken back into the dressing room
for another transformation.
When she finally reappeared, it was "au natural." Wearing nothing but her collar,
Tulsa's skin had been scrubbed clean to remove all traces of makeup. Even her
rings...those in her nipples as well as her cunt lips...had been cut off. This time, the
bidders would have the opportunity to see her body without any adornments or
accessories. And, they would now also have their first opportunity to sample her for
themselves.
The banquet table had been removed during her absence, replaced by a four poster
king sized bed more luxurious than anything Tulsa had ever felt...not to mention nicer
than either the tile floor and hospital bed she'd been sleeping on for the past year.
Chairs surrounded the bed, affording a ringside seat to anyone who wanted to watch.
For those who preferred a bit of privacy, a small room off to the side provided a smaller,
yet equally plush, bed. The slave became intimately familiar with both areas over the
next five hours, to the point that both mattresses had to be flipped over so the Masters
and Mistresses using her weren't subjected to the pools of cum she was leaving behind.
Tulsa was well and thoroughly fucked, in her cunt, ass and mouth. She proved herself
to be a responsive bitch, but there was a bit of rumbling about the fact that she hadn't
apparently cum during the entire ordeal. What, they were all asking each other, was
wrong with this bitch? All the parts seemed to be intact; modified, perhaps, but intact.
Was she frigid, or what? Donna anticipated the questions and quickly approached the
auctioneer's lectern.
"Most of you have already made use of my slave. I'm sure you found it to be moist,
compliant and accommodating. However, I've heard some discussion about the fact
that it did not have a single orgasm while being raped. No, it's not as some have
suggested; the slave is not frigid. The reason is that I have not permitted it to orgasm..
As a matter of fact, I have not permitted this slave to cum in over eight months.
Although it has been fucked several times a day, it has not had a single orgasm in that
time."
A low murmur rolled through the room as the assembled bidders whispered among
themselves. Never had any of them heard of such unbelievable obedience! What sort
of training could accomplish this? They had to know!
"Please, allow me to explain," Donna continued. "The reason it hasn't had an orgasm
isn't due to any particularly high level of obedience. As a matter of fact, the slave still
has a long way to go in that regard. No, it is totally due to a new, experimental form of
control involving drug therapy, positive and negative reinforcement, and psychological
conditioning developed here at the clinic. This technology has allowed me to, for lack
of a better term, 'turn off" the slave's orgasms. It was almost nine months ago that I
told the slave it was forbidden to cum, and since that time, no matter how hard it has
tried, the slave hasn't been able to achieve even a single, momentary orgasm. I can't
explain all the details of this new control method, but perhaps the clinic's director could
if you're interested.
"At any rate, since this slave will belong to someone else by evening's end, I thought it
might be nice if I released it from restriction and allowed you to observe how nicely it
creams. Oh, by the way, this particular conditioning will transfer to whomever holds
ownership.
"Tulsa," Donna directed the cum-covered girl, "get up on your hands and knees like a
good doggie bitch. Spread those knees wide, so everyone can watch your cunt gaping
open when I tell you to cum."
Donna made the girl wait in anticipation on the hard tile floor, allowing globs of semen
and cunt juice to drip from her open cunt and asshole, adding to the perverse scene as
white glop dripped down her thighs.
"CUM, BITCH," Donna finally commanded, and wave after wave of orgasmic bliss
washed over the girl. Everyone watched in amazement as Tulsa's cunt lips visibly
spasmed, opening and closing like a guppy's mouth, her own secretions rapidly flowing
down her legs and pooling up on the floor below her.
"Oh, one thing I forgot to mention, folks," Donna casually mentioned. "Tulsa has been
conditioned to have an orgasm every time she hears the word 'cum,' no matter the
context. But when her owner gives her the command, she will begin a continuous
series of orgasms until she's told to stop.
"Say," Donna stopped for a moment, thinking. "Does anyone know what the world
record is for the longest continuous orgasm? You know, she'll continue cumming until I
tell her to stop. Even if she passes out, she'll keep having orgasms."
Donna and the crowd watched as Tulsa moaned feverishly, her body covered in a
sheen of perspiration, her breath coming in gasps, as orgasm after orgasm washed
over her naked body. A full fifteen minutes passed before Donna ordered the slave to
stop. Tulsa collapsed in a limp, quivering heap on the floor, gasping for air, as the
crowd applauded.
"Well, I don't suppose the folks at Guinness Book have a category for what we just saw,
anyway," Donna joked. "We'll give the slut a few minutes to recover, and then some
time to get cleaned up before we end this show. After all, I doubt anyone would like to
have her in their vehicle the way she smells now!" Donna was right, as the odor of wet
cunt, cum and sweaty slave meat was overpoweringly strong. "In the meantime, please
feel free to avail yourselves of the food, beverages and house slaves, as you choose."
The music started up again, and several slaves began circulating through the room,
offering drinks as well as their bodies to the customers.
Donna allowed Tulsa a few moments to recover from her marathon fucking before
rousing her with a swift kick to the ribs.
"Get up, Bitch!" she whispered loudly into the slave's ear. "All you've done so far is
serve a few drinks, wait tables and get yourself laid. I can't believe I allowed you to
cum already...you haven't done shit!" Grabbing Tulsa by her abused udders, Donna
pulled the slave to her knees.
"Excuse me one more time, folks," Donna loudly announced. "My slave has just
informed me that it doesn't believe it truly earned the orgasms you have just witnessed,
so it has begged me to permit it to serve as your toilet for the rest of the evening. Isn't
that right, slut."
"Yes, Mistress," Tulsa softly replied, her face burning with humiliation and dread at what
was to come..
"Oh, lookie, the slave is blushing...how cute!" Donna commented, garnering laughter
from the audience. "Tell your prospective buyers how you want to be used, girl."
"The slave begs to be of service to anyone who requires its use as a toilet," Tulsa
responded more loudly this time. "Its holes are available for any substance needing
disposal."
"Good!" yelled one woman at the back of the room. "Come here, toilet!" called the
woman, exquisitely dressed in a black strapless evening gown. "I'm afraid I've had
more to drink than my poor bladder can hold," she announced to the room. "Crawl
under there and see what you can do about it. And don't you dare touch me or my
clothes with your scummy body, slave. The only thing I want to feel is your cum-stained
lips locked over my pee hole. Touch me anywhere else, or lose a single drop of my
pee, and I'll make sure I'm the highest bidder just so I can flay the skin off your body
with a bullwhip!"
With the warning acknowledged, the woman spread her feet slightly, allowing Tulsa to
crawl underneath her. Terrified that her abuser would follow through on her threat, the
slave carefully placed her mouth over the woman's crotch, using her lips to create a
water-tight (or, rather, a urine-tight) seal. Thus began the next part of Tulsa's evening
of abuse, to serve as a human toilet.
Unfortunately for the slave, nearly every one of the invited guests needed to empty their
bladders into her at least once. Over the ensuing two hours, Tulsa's belly became
slowly swollen to the point that she finally looked like she was nine months pregnant.
Fortunately for her, however, only one gentleman needed to relieve himself of anything
more than urine. Donna was particularly pleased as the man released a fairly large turd
into the slave girl's awaiting mouth, because she had already resigned herself to
performing this act herself if none of the guests did. To Donna, this was extremely
distasteful, but she did want everyone to see Tulsa being used that way.
This did not mean that Tulsa's mouth was used for only these more common toilet
functions. Indeed, those present used her for virtually every purpose that they used a
real porcelain fixture. After urinating, virtually all the men took the opportunity to spit in
the human urinal. The smokers in the crowd dropped their still-lit cigarette butts into
their toilet, waiting while it was "flushed" when the girl swallowed. One, who had a bout
of sneezing, disposed of his wet, snot-covered tissues that way.
The worst for Tulsa, however, was when one woman, after depositing several mouthfuls
of urine in her, reached up and removed a blood-soaked tampon from her vaginal
opening and dropped it in the toilet's mouth. This nearly caused the slave to vomit, but
after a few seconds of stifled retching, she was able to regain control over her gag
reflex. Looking up at the woman and smiling submissively, Tulsa slowly chewed on the
blood-soaked, compressed cotton tube, until she was finally able to swallow the foul
object. Donna watched throughout it all, sure that the slave would have preferred
several more mouthfuls of feces to this.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer announced, after it appeared
everyone had relieved themselves in and on Tulsa's body. "We will begin accepting
your bids in a few moments. As you know, this slave's owner has insisted on a sealed
bid auction. She prefers that the slave remain unaware of it's final purchase price.
Also, a reserve bid has been established, but will not be made known unless the price
is not met. Should the minimum not be bid, the slave will remain here until its organs
can be sold. We will now have the slave cleaned up so its final appearance is suitable
for presentation to its new owner, whoever that may be. Once again, please help
yourselves to the house slaves for any needs you may have. Does anyone have any
questions?" When there were no responses, the auctioneer motioned with his hands,
and the room immediately filled with young, nubile, naked slaves of both genders.
Tulsa, her distended, piss-filled belly swaying obscenely, was slowly, painfully led
crawling back to the dressing room.
Given a scant three minutes to recover, she spent all of it kneeling on the floor, her
head deep inside the toilet bowl, as her stomach violently purged itself of its contents.
Tulsa knew that being permitted to relieve herself in this manner was a privilege, and
that it was very likely that, should she vomit under similar circumstances in the future,
she'd be eating her own puke from the floor.
Once Tulsa's stomach contents had been emptied, two of the house slaves began to
prepare her for her final appearance as Donna's property. Repeated douches and
enemas cleaned her interior parts, while her first hot - scalding hot - shower in a year
cleaned her outside. One of the house slaves - a dental technician before she
unwittingly angered a patient who happened to be a slave trader - opened a small
toolbox filled with dental tools and gave Tulsa's teeth a rudimentary cleaning - the first
time since her arrival that a real toothbrush had touched her mouth. Previously, Tulsa's
only method of oral care had been to rub salt or soap suds on her teeth and gums with
her index finger.
These tasks completed, the former makeup artist returned and started her final task for
the evening. This time, only a very moderate amount of makeup was used, enough to
accentuate Tulsa's enhanced appearance. Her costume this time consisted of a pink
baby doll nightie, matching silk stockings and lace garter belt, and similarly-toned spike
heeled, open toed shoes. Long, blonde tresses hung down well below her shoulders to
complete the ensemble. Her nearly virginal, innocent and clean appearance was
violated only by the insertion of new, gleaming silver rings through the holes in her
labia, nipples and nose. Told to kneel, she was once again locked in the room, this
time to await her final fate while the bids were opened.
After a seemingly eternity, Tulsa heard the door's latch being thrown. She jerked at the
sound, starting to look up to see who was coming to claim her, but lowering her head as
her training took over.
"Cheryl,' a soft male voice said, "look at me, please."
Bewildered at the kindness of the voice, she hesitated momentarily, then slowly lifted
her eyes towards her new Master.
"Hello, Cheryl," said Robert, one of the partners in her former law firm. "I'd like you to
meet my mother." He stepped aside, and in strode the old woman whom Tulsa had
been caring for this past nine months. In full control of her faculties and looking much
younger, the woman mouthed a thank you to the kneeling slave.
"Yes, Cheryl, I bought you," he said, something nearing love in his eyes. "I felt it was
necessary, after how well you treated my mother. The staff said she'd never had made
such progress without you, and I felt I had a debt to pay. Please stand up, Cheryl," he
asked politely, waiting while she rose to her feet before continuing.
"My first reward to you is that I want you to have your name back. You are no longer
Tulsa, or slut, or bitch, or cunt. Your name is Cheryl. Forever. Secondly, while I admit
to harboring every male's fantasy of owning a submissive, obedient slave girl, I really
don't have a need to bring that reality to life. Therefore, I'd like to offer you your
freedom, if you want it. I'll even do what I can about restoring your original appearance,
if you want, so you can have your old job back. It's your choice, Cheryl. If you decide
to remain my slave, it will be for life, though. I won't be cruel, but I can be demanding. I
don't expect an answer right now, though. We're going back to the states tonight, and
you can have a few days to relax at my vacation home - you'll be alone, we won't bother
you - before making your decision."
