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My Odyssey Part 15: The Auction As narrated

by Anne-Marie to Tony B

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© Copyright 2008 - Anne-Marie to Tony B - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/f; bond; auction; slave; cuffs; cons; X

(story continues from )

My Odyssey

As narrated by Anne-Marie Killamajiian,
Wife of Ahmed, of the House of Mustaffa, the Diamond Merchant

Warning: This story involves bondage, consensual sex, domination, coercion, sex changes, sexual slavery, rape, and other jiggery-pokery. It is entirely fictional, and is intended as entertainment for adults only. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to any location or activity is purely coincidental. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. (As if anybody ever is!)

Note: If you would like to contact the authoress to make a comment, you may contact Anne through Tony-B who originally published it as "My Story". She hopes you enjoy reading her story. Tony would also appreciate your comments. We will endeavor to answer all emails.

Part 15: The Auction…

My auction day finally arrived.

Today, I would be sold to someone, either as a potential wife, or sexual slave, depending on the intent, or the whim, of the buyer. The money would be used to satisfy Jim Irwin’s fine from the local court, and to repay the Clinic for all its services over the past ten months.

I would be leaving the Clinic later today, either as a potential wife, or as a sex slave, most likely, for life, and I was not afraid.

Betty arrived in the exercise room, where Henry and I had engaged in our daily Tai Chi exercises. She was carrying one of my bathrobes. I had worn my shoes down to the exercise class, and was otherwise nude, as usual. Henry enjoyed seeing me nude, and I enjoyed having him look at me while doing my daily routine. But Betty seldom came to the exercise room, usually meeting me for breakfast after I had showered and prepared for breakfast.

Today would be different, of course, as Betty prepared me for the change that was about to happen in my life. She had seen this before, but was usually reluctant to talk about it.

While we ate breakfast, Betty said, “After you shower and fix your hair, I want you to put on a simple dress, and stockings, and that’s all for today. The auctioneer would prefer that there are no marks on your body caused by the elastic in your panties or brassiere that would show during the auction. Any marks on your body should be covered by makeup, except for your rose tattoo, which should be left visible. Also, be sure to put on a slightly red lipstick, but not bright red. We want your lips to be enticing, but not provocative. You might want to brush a touch of rouge to your nipples, just to make them more visible. Not too much – just a touch to give them color. We’ll do a final touch up, just before the auction. …”

I followed her instructions, selecting a simple Navy Blue dress for the day, and a pair of stockings that would stay up without support. And my shoes, of course – a pair of black pumps with three-inch heels. Despite my earlier reservations, I had grown to really like wearing heels, and the way they helped shape my calves. They helped me stand in a most becoming way, with my hips tilted slightly and my butt forced back, enhancing the feminine curve of my spine, which also allowed my breasts to stick out in a most enticing way when I stood up straight. Henry said the heels made me look like a goddess! With heels, I stood five-foot-ten, and I was still shorter than Henry.

As a game once, Betty had brought me a pair of shoes with six-inch heels that I could barely walk in. We had seen a video once with a girl named Bettie Page, who wore such high heels, and seemed fully comfortable in them. They made me as tall as Henry, so I could look directly into his eyes, but I could barely hobble around, trying to maintain my balance. Betty said that if I wore heels that high long enough, that eventually the tendons and muscles in my feet would accommodate the height, and I would grow used to wearing them. Thank goodness, I didn’t have to wear heels that high all the time. But it was only for a game, and to show me how I looked in such stiletto-high heels.

It was my final day here at the Clinic, so I used some of my free time bidding farewell to each of the friends who had supported me through my long recovery. I kissed the men, and hugged the women. It wasn’t a time for pleasure, but Henry patted me on the ass when he saw me that afternoon. I remembered Jim Irwin, and the fact that I was responsible for paying his debt to the local court system. And I remembered my best friend Jai, and hoped that she was happy, whereever she was. There was just so much to remember about the past year. I truly did enjoy having sex with men as Doctor Bulieu had promised I would.

I didn’t see Doctor Bulieu all day, which might have seemed unusual, since I frequently saw him bustling about in the Clinic, and weekly, in his office.

It was late afternoon, when the doctor summoned me to his office. … Betty told me to expect this meeting. …

Doctor Bulieu introduced me to the auctioneer who was seated by his desk. The man who would conduct the auction that would sell me to a potential husband, or owner. I was introduced only by name, and the doctor failed to tell me the auctioneer’s name. …

“Sit down, Miss Bentley”, the auctioneer said. I did so, smoothing the back of my dress over my butt as I was sitting. I crossed my legs, and waited for him to continue. Since Doctor Bulieu had not mentioned his name, I didn’t ask.

“Just relax, Miss Bentley, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to explain the process, so you won’t be surprised at anything when it’s happening.”

I nodded that I understood. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. The rate must have jumped up 10 or 15 points!

He continued – “We’ll take you into the operating theater. You will be nude, and your hands will be cuffed behind you, but you won’t be gagged. We want the bidders to see the beauty of your lips and face. The bidders will be sitting in the darkened gallery above. You won’t be able to see or hear them. The bidding is all done electronically so as not to embarrass you in any way. You may be asked to turn this way or that, or to turn around, so that they can get a good look at you. We will not touch you, or display your private parts at any time, but you must remain silent, and obey my every command promptly. All the bids are ‘tentative’ until they are increased by another bidder. When the bidding stops, when it goes no higher, you will be taken into another room, where the successful bidder may interrogate and examine you. No ‘sex’ will be allowed at that time – you will be kept pure for the final successful bidder. If the bidder likes you, the auction will be closed, and you will belong to him. If he rejects you for any reason, his bid will be vacated, and the next highest bidder will be allowed to interrogate and examine you. At no time will you know exactly how much is being bid, but if it’s lower than the fine ordered by the state court here, we may reserve you, and try again, another day, and with another group of bidders. If it’s too low, life may become very difficult for you – certainly not as good as a marriage, so you need to make yourself as appealing as possible during the entire auction. The examination may include looking and touching, but no ‘sex’ – you may come to terms with him, on whatever is mutually agreeable. But you may not reject him – he’s buying you, pure and simple – you aren’t buying him! Is all that understood?”

“Yes”, I replied, and nodded my head. “I do have one question, if I may…”

“Go ahead”, he said.

“You do know that I’m not a virgin, don’t you?”, I asked.

“Yes”, he said. “None of our girls are. The bidders know why they’re here, and what they will be getting. Any more questions?”, he asked.

“No”, I said, dropping my eyes to the floor to signify my submission.

“Good”, he said. “Your Passport and other papers will be given to your buyer, who will keep then safe for use whenever they are needed. Your papers will include your birth certificate, medical records, school transcripts and the like, so you will have a total identity. You’ll never need to worry about anyone finding out about your past. You’ll be given a copy of those records so you can study and remember them, although some of those memories have already been planted in your mind.”

“Medical records?”, I asked.

“Yes. You will have a complete, if false, medical history that is documented from the date of your birth until the present day. It will provide you with a completely benign health history, excluding any reference to this Clinic. No one will ever know you’ve been a guest here. One thing I would advise you very strongly. … Don’t ever tell anyone about the Clinic here, or tell anyone that you were once a man. Very few people will ever know your full story. Let them assume whatever they will – you don’t need to shock them by what we know or do here. Once a year, you will return to the Clinic for a medical checkup, and refreshing your memories and programming. Consider it a vacation among old friends. Your medications will arrive by mail regularly, and your buyer will administer them as necessary.”

“I’ll see you and Doctor Bulieu in about three hours.”, he said. “Good luck. And Doctor Bulieu was right, you are very pretty!”

With that, he got up to leave. He nodded to the doctor, and was gone.

Doctor Bulieu spoke… “You made a good impression on him, Anne. … Once again, I’m proud of you. Let’s get some dinner, and Betty can start getting you ready.”

The Parting…

I hate good-byes!

“Well, come on, honey”, Betty said. “… get undressed. It’s almost time to go.”

I removed my dress. Betty took it, folded it carefully, and placed it into my suitcase. I removed my stockings and handed them to Betty. She laid them aside, considering them ‘soiled’. Except for my shoes, I stood there naked in front of her.

She inspected me closely, checking to see how much lipstick I had applied, and the color of rouge on my nipples. … They needed a touch up, so she took the makeup brush, dipped it in the rouge in my compact, and brushed a little on my nipples. I immediately felt a tingle of excitement in my breasts – I was real sensitive on my nipples.

She had me turn around so she could inspect my back, and my tattoo, to make sure it was fully visible. “Good”, she said… “You’ve got a very cute ass!”

“What about my shoes?”, I asked.

“You may continue wearing them downstairs”, she said. “If you leave tonight, you may need them to walk out of the building.”

I was relieved… I hated walking in my bare feet, especially outside.

I reached out to Betty, and we hugged. We both knew that we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. I hugged her hard, and we both cried.

Henry came in, and quietly said, “It’s time to go, Anne. Turn around, please.”

I did as instructed. I turned around and placed my hands behind my back, waiting for the handcuffs. When he placed them on my wrists, he didn’t squeeze them tightly closed, but left them loose so they wouldn’t hurt me, or leave marks. They were just tight enough to hold my hands in position and not slip off my wrists, yet, with no chance of escape.

“Goodbye, Betty”, I said as Henry led me to the door.

“Remember me”, Betty called out. “Remember me.”

“I promise! I’ll never forget my sister.” Nothing more could be said.

We paused in the hallway as the door closed behind me. Henry removed a tissue from his pocket, and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“I’d like to thank you, Henry”, I said, “… for all the kindness you’ve shown me. For opening my eyes, and opening my legs.” …

“I may have opened your eyes”, Henry said, “… but you opened your legs to me. It was a gift I’ll not soon forget!”

“You’re very kind, Henry”, I said.

“I loved the way your breasts bounced when we had sex”, he said.

“So did I, Henry. … So did I!”

“But tonight you will belong to another. …”, he continued.

“How can you be sure?”, I asked.

“I know. Some of the richest men in the world are coming to see you tonight, and one of them will take you home with him. It’s the way it will be. …”

There was nothing more that I could say…

He led me down the hall and down the stairs to the operating room in the basement. Opening a door, he led me into the Scrub Room, where a tall black man was waiting. He was naked from the waist up. His chest and arms had been oiled – or he was sweating profusely - and he wore a costume right out of an old ‘Arabian Nights’ movie, complete with turban! Henry turned me over to him, without a word passing between them and turned to leave.

“Goodbye, Henry”, I managed.

He smiled and said, “Don’t worry, princess, you’ll be alright.” I thought I saw a tear in his eye.

“Goodbye”, was all he said, then he turned and left, leaving me with this black man.

On the auction block: …

The black man, who led me in by the arm, brought me into the operating theater. He told me where to stand. My hands and arms hung limply behind my back. I stood up straight, pushing my breasts out to be seen to their best advantage. I knew it would also accentuate the curve of my spine, causing my butt to stick out a little further, and make my tummy flat as a board. I lowered my eyes to the floor as I had been instructed, and just stood there, waiting. With the bright lights illuminating my body, it was impossible to see anything in front of me, anyway “This is Anne-Marie Bentley," the auctioneer said... "She is an American, is here willingly, and has been trained to be submissive. She stands five foot, seven inches tall, and weighs in at 121 pounds. She wears a size 11 shoe, size 7 panties, a 38-C-cup brassiere, and a size12 dress. Her body measurements are 38, 22, and 36. They are completely natural, and have not been enhanced. Internally, she can take nine inches, and five-and-a-half to her throat. She trains easily, readily accepting her role, and will make an ideal companion. … There is a reserve price, shown on your screens. I will open the bidding, now.”

I guess that wraps me up in a nutshell, I thought. It gives the salient points, and tells me what some of the bidders are looking for. I think ‘submission’ is the most important factor, because he referred to it three times in his description. And I know that men in this part of the world want their wives to be submissive!

“Miss Bentley”, the auctioneer said, “will you please look up and smile. The bidders would like to get a look at your face and smile. …”

I didn’t know what there was to smile about, but I followed directions, looked up and smiled. Half a minute passed while I held that pose with the fake smile. …

“Thank you, Miss Bentley. You may resume looking at the floor.”

I dropped my eyes to comply. At least he was being very polite about the whole thing…

There was silence, while I just stood there. I knew that men were looking at me, and bidding on me, so I tried to look as submissive as I could. It’s a hard thing to convey without talking. At least two minutes went by. “All right gentlemen, I have a high bidder … You can see the bid on your screen. Are there any more bids?” Another minute of silence. The auctioneer addressed me… “Miss Bentley, will you please turn around so the bidders may see your back side?” I turned around silently. Although I had been prepared for this, I blushed at the thought of these unknown men looking at my bare bum. I didn’t know then, that there was also a woman among the bidders. …

“Any further bids, gentlemen?” he asked. Again, silence.

“Please turn back around, Miss Bentley.” I complied, staring into the bank of lights again, and blinked because of the brightness. I still looked down, in my best submissive pose. I hoped it was effective.

“All through?”, he asked. “All through at that figure?” … “Miss Bentley, please spread your legs apart”, he directed me. I complied with his order, thinking, “How far?” I separated my feet about 18 inches, and stood still, waiting for further orders. … “That’s fine, Miss Bentley, you may close your legs, now.”

“Are there any more bids?”, he asked the darkened gallery. After a minute of silence, “Alright. All through?” … “All through at that figure? … Thank you ma’am”, he said as he acknowledged the newest bid.

Ma’am! Ma’am!?! It was a woman! A woman was bidding on me! … I thought of Jai’s double-ended dong and what she had told me about its use … I thought about her Chastity Belt…

“Alright. Are we all through at that figure?” he asked again. Another minute of silence… “Thank you, sir. All right, she’s tentatively been sold to the highest bidder. We’ll take a fifteen-minute break while the bidder inspects his tentative purchase. Italian Coffee will be served.” Just like that! … Very unemotional -- very business-like! I had been sold! Zip, Boom, Bang, and it was over! With that, the lights clicked off, and I was led out of the room by the black man who had been dutifully standing nearby, waiting for when he was needed again. Good thing, I thought – I couldn’t see a thing! The lights had blinded me.

He guided me into a small room off the side of the operating theater. As he closed the door, he spoke to me for the first time in a confidential tone… “Congratulations, Miss Bentley. You did very well. Ahmed Killamajiian of the House of Mustaffa, the diamond merchant, has selected you. He is the eldest son, and one of the richest men in the Middle East. If he has purchased you for a wife, you will live in luxury for the rest of your life. If not, you may be a serving girl in his house, but he has an excellent reputation for treating his servants well.”

“Thank you”, I said, grateful for the information, and the confidence that he shared. I noticed that he said ‘selected’, rather than ‘bought’, if that has any significance to my story. … I was going to ask his name, and where Ahmed would be taking me, when the door opened. I remained silent, and dropped my eyes.

I heard his voice for the first time. “Thank you, Hamoud. You may leave, now.” He sounded self-assured, and in control of the situation, but not unkind. Hamoud bowed, and silently left the room.

The Inspection…

After some conversation and some questions about why I was there, I briefly told him my story.

“Thank you for being honest with me. Honesty is very important to me. Doctor Bulieu had already informed me of your past”, he said. “ … and I simply wanted to hear it from your lips. The Doctor has done a wonderful job on you.”

Then he stepped right up in front of me, invading my personal body space, and looked me directly in the face. I kept my head up, to show that I was not afraid of him, and my eyes down, so he could appreciate my submission. He reached around behind me and cupped one buttock in each hand, and pulled my hips closer to him, squeezing both cheeks as he did so. He pulled his hands apart, spreading my cheeks, and held me there for a minute to see my reaction to this invasion. Carefully, I avoided any, and let him do what he wanted. The air was cold against the body temperature between my open cheeks. …

In a moment, he released me and stepped back. Using both hands, he grabbed me by the breasts and squeezed hard. I wanted to cry out, “Stop, you’re hurting me!”, but I knew better than to do that. I knew it would queer the sale, and someone else would just take his place. Probably the woman who bid on me before Ahmed had increased the bid. I had been warned about that! We had come this far, and I had been prepared by the doctor to go all the way. …

“Do you like that, Anne?” he asked.

I figured I had better be honest with him…“No, Master”, I said. – But I didn’t complain!

He squeezed harder, and it was hard for me to keep from crying out. I don’t know what it was, but it seemed as if men just liked to hurt women. To cause them pain, and to dominate them. I guess that was the key to being a woman in this part of the world – is to be able to accept it and not complain. Doctor Bulieu had told me that eventually, I’d be willing to accept this kind of abuse without question. And it seemed that this was the moment I had to accept it, or give it up. However, I didn’t know what would become of me if I gave it up. So I just stood there, and took it! But damn! He was hurting me!

He finally let go, and said, “I appreciate your honesty. I think you’ll do. … “

“Thank you, Master”, I heard myself saying, “I’ll try to please you.”

“Oh, you will! I’m sure you will! Just remember, in my culture, men are allowed to beat their wives with a rod that is no thicker than their thumb.” He paused for effect, and said, “… and I have some pretty big thumbs!”

Wives! He had said ‘wives’! Was he already married? Did he use the word in a way that included me in the reference? I wondered at what was happening, but knew better than to ask.

“Do you understand?”, he asked.

“Yes, Master”, I replied.

“Then tell me. I want to hear it from your lips, to be sure you understand!”

“Yes, Master”, I said. “If I don’t obey you, you will beat me.”

“Good! And if you do obey, I promise that I’ll give you great pleasure and a good life.”

“Now go stand against the wall,” he commanded, “and press your tits into it. I’ll go tell the auctioneer that you are acceptable, and someone will come in a few minutes to prepare you for transportation. You’d better still be hugging the wall when I return! … This is your first test!”

“Yes, Master.”, I said softly. I moved to comply.

“You may call me Ahmed”, he said, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes, Ahmed, “ I replied. And symbolically, the power was passed, from me to him. It was as simple as that! He owned me now, and I would do whatever he commanded. If all went well, he would be my husband, and I, his wife and sex slave for life – there is no divorce in this part of the world. For women, it’s submission, or death. I wondered if he would finally get these handcuffs off me, but knew better than to ask. He made no effort to do so, so I just stood there, with my breasts pushing into the wall, as he left the room.

The Buyer…

Ahmed Killamajiian. (Pronounced ‘Kill-uh-may-gee-uh’, accent on the ‘may’) … of the House of Mustafa, the diamond merchant! He sounded like an important man, certainly one who was used to having his own way, but not in an unkind way. I’m glad he selected me, I thought to myself.

Getting Up in the World…

When he returned, another man who was holding an overcoat and a box accompanied him. Allowing me to step away from the wall, they placed the coat around my shoulders. It didn’t have any armholes, or sleeves, just a row of buttons down the front, which were fastened quickly. Although it wasn’t exactly my size, it was close enough, and covered my body from the knees to the shoulders. Obviously it was designed only to cover a woman’s body while her hands were tied behind her, and for transportation from one place to another, publicly.

He reached into the box that held a variety of mouth gags and selected one. Holding it up where I could see it, he asked, “Shall I gag you, or will you be quiet?”

“I’ll be quiet, Ahmed”, I promised.

“Alright’, he said, “Just remember that you are to remain silent unless you are spoken to, or you want to ask permission to speak. The only other times you may speak without permission is as a matter of courtesy, to thank someone for performing a service for you, or to you. You may also speak directly to me when we are alone, and if I have not told you to be silent. If you fail this test, you will be gagged, perhaps most uncomfortably.”

Saying nothing, I nodded my head in agreement.

Fade to black…


"In the next episode, Anne-Marie learns her fate."


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