11 comments/ 61345 views/ 26 favorites Black Slave Auction Ch. 01 By: subwryter The weather was ripe with the smell of sweat and other bodily fluids. I stand with my naked back against the cool brick wall. "Welcome to the auction," A pensive white male says standing behind the podium. For years, the black slave auctions had been going strong and the black community had never caught wind. Now, here I am with all my ancestors resting on my shoulders begging me to get to the expose of the century. Michael had asked me if I could go undercover as one of the slaves to see what everything was about. Nervously I had agreed. This could be the story of my career, I thought. Little did I know all that I would have to go through? I It all started about a week ago. I had gotten the card from Michael. It read: Black slave auction, slaves needed. Under that was an email address and nothing else. I contacted the email address and on a whim attached a picture. It only took moments before I heard a ping. There was an address and a contact name, Aubrey. The next day I found the address on map quest and headed out. When I arrived outside the building everything in me shook from nerves. Abandoned looking, the structure stood out against the rest of the city street. I knock. No answer. I knock again and again no answer. I turn to walk away when suddenly the door creaks open and I'm face to face with the prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen. "Aubrey?" I ask. "Right this way, "she responds slowly. I'm brought into a room that seems like it should be a conference room, but it is empty of all furniture. There are four others in the room besides myself and Aubrey. One guys is tall and muscular, another guy is short and stout. The women are both beautiful and lighter than me. I actually am surprised that I'm the darkest complexion of all. "Welcome all," Aubrey says taking the floor, "this upcoming auction is a private auction. All of you will be blindfolded upon arrival. There about ten others that will be joining and some Masters may put in last minute additions just before the auction. All of you will be nude from now until the Master has decided what to do with you. Your rights will be stripped away from you from here on out. You all will be what was intended to you from the early days, slaves to the white race." I shake. I don't fit in here. I can barely think past the many times I've seen the movie roots and all the slave lessons from my parents. I cringe at the thought that there are willing black folks like me subjecting themselves to this. I suddenly can't breathe, but I'm not going to give up. The only way to put a stop to all this is to burst this wide open. So, here I am with my hands on my hips standing behind a podium in an unknown Southern state. This place couldn't get more private. There is a crowd of white faces and they are all staring at the first girl on the block. She isn't familiar, but she seems enthusiastic with a smile. She is bid on but they don't use dollar amounts but instead some kind of code I can't quite work out. I'm up next. They call my name and my knees wobble as I take my place in front of the crowd. The bids start in rapid pace and all I can do is keep telling myself that this is worth it. SOLD! I can barely hear the words through the blood swarming in my ears. I'm helped off the stage before I can see who bought me. About an hour later the auction is over and I'm taken back to the blacked-out car that brought me up to the yard. We drive for what seems like an hour and arrive at our destination before sun down. I only know this because they open the doors and two of the "slaves" exit. Then we drive on and after the eventful day I find myself drifting to sleep. II I'm awoken by hands shaking me. I can't seem to figure out who I am or where I am. I turn to see a friendly face staring down at me. "Hi," she says slowly, "I'm Shara." "Renee," I respond slowly. "Master wants me to help you get dressed for a private dinner tonight," she says smiling but this time it doesn't quite meet her eyes. She tosses me a white dress which I slip on quickly and a pair of slip on shoes. "Ok," I respond slowly and follow her out of the car and through the double doors leading to a lavish hotel. We are in the room only moments before she sets out to push me into the shower. Next she primps and prods me. I barely get a moment to pee before she is pushing me into the mirror. I stare at myself in awe. I've always been the masculine type but for one brief moment in my life I look like a girl. My short hair is blow dried and curled around my ears. A muted red lipstick dolls my lips and my eyes are highlighted with blacks and grays. I'm wearing a short red dress that accentuates the shape that I didn't know existed. I gasp and Shara notices. "He will be pleased," she says slowly. "What's he like?" I ask turning to look at her but she dodges the question as she fixes my hair one last time. Pushing me into the elevator, she hits the PH button. I've never been to a penthouse before. III "Come in," his voice is coarse as he sits in his chair turned away from us. I can tell he is older by the way he sounds. "Hello," I say trying to calm myself. He grunts. "Leave us Shara," he instructs her. She does as she is told without a word. I'm left alone to play this façade. The room is dark with only candles to light the table next to him. I can tell the place is much bigger than this one room. I have no idea what I've gotten myself into and I'm scared. He stands. He is a titan of a man with cold green eyes and greying hair. His shirt is white and buttoned and he has a hand in his black pants pockets. "Come here," he instructs. I can't move. I'm frozen, but he isn't bending. "Come here bitch," he says in a booming voice that makes me shake where I'm standing. I've never been called a bitch in my life. I can't move. Doesn't he know I can't move? He moves toward me. The speed of his walk is of a man half his age. He grabs me by the shoulder and suddenly his yellowing teeth are in my face. "I don't like to be defied," he says crisply, "now say, yes master." I can hear myself repeating the words and he releases me. I'm in a dream. I'm in a nightmare. He uses his hands more gently this time as he runs them up my arm. Goosebumps prick along my skin. His hands move slower now across my waist and just under my bust. His hands are gentle now. He runs fingers over my nipples and my body reacts. "All black women should know their place," he says with a smile. I stare at him. "Say it," he says pinching my nipple. "Yes master," I respond quickly. "I'm going to take you now. I'm going to fuck that black pussy and you are going to moan for me. You are going to break for me," he says in his insanely brooding tone. There is something about his tone that makes me wet. I know this is all just research, but stranger things have happened. He isn't gentle as he pulls down my top and palms my nipples. "You are so dark," he says with a grin, "not worthy of this black cock." "Yes master," I say looking down at him. He bites and plays with my nipples and I can feel myself getting wetter. "You are a stupid little nigger girl," he says striping the last of my dress off, "only good for one thing." "Yes Master," I respond as he begins to peel my panties off my wide hips. "And, when I'm spent, you will wash me from head to toe." "Yes master," I say quietly. I'm realizing what this world is like, and I'm not sure if I'm the woman for the job. He fingers my clit in a semi-circle. I tremble under the weight of his hand. His pale body moves against mine. I shiver. Black Slave Auction Ch. 02 Every bone in my body tells me that what I am doing is wrong. As a reporter, throwing yourself into your job comes with the territory, but the deeper I go, the more I worry. Now here I am in a man's hand who wants me to call him Master and I'm struggling with the fact that I may not hate it... He isn't tender. His breath reeks of tobacco as he finds my neck. I can feel the bristled hairs on his chin against my own smooth skin. He pulls me even closer to him as he fumbles with his own shirt. Wrinkled flesh engulfs me when he gets it off. I quiver when I hear him unzip his pants. I can't catch my breath as he spins me around to face him. His eyes blaze into my own with a sense of ownership that cannot be mimicked. "You're different," he tells me as he runs his fingers through my coarse hair. Even blow dried there is a coarseness that wraps around his thick fingers. He seems to like it as he runs his nose over it. "I believe your fear," he says slowly taking my chin in his hands, "I love it." My fear is very real. I had never thought I'd be in this place and what's worse is there are moments when I think I enjoy it. For instance, right now he is blowing along my neck in a way that makes my nipples harden. My body is betraying me. He is feeling my wetness between his fingers. His hands are overly invasive. More invasive are his fingers in my mouth when he makes me taste it. I've never tasted myself before and with him probing me it becomes less about the taste and more about the lack of choice that comes with it. "Nigger juice," he tells me. I'm so slick between his fingers. My hips move into him. I can feel the familiar tingling beginning to build between my thighs His large cock is out and naked against my ass. I'm going to cum. I want to cum with the warmth of his cock inside me. He can tell that I'm edging, and immediately stops his touching of me. "Not yet," he says facing me away from him and placing my hands on the table beside us. Without warning he is inside me. I shudder. I'm choking on my own tongue as I feel him inside me. He is the width of my walls even though he isn't very long. I'm so wet now that I can feel myself leaking down my legs. I want to cum so bad, but I feel like I need to ask permission. I question if I'm ready to ask permission. The consequences for not asking may be greater than I can handle. "Do you feel me," he leans closer with his mouth just beyond my ear, "beg me for my cum." OH shit! I've been all out of sorts and now I realize there isn't a condom. Everything is getting out of hand. I need to stop this. I need to quit. I need to walk away and get tested as soon as I can find solid ground. "You are mine," he says in a deep tone that makes every inch of me contract and relax at the same time. He is making me high off of the sensations. I need to stop him. I need to stop myself, but everything is so blurry. I grab the table. I grab the table as if it is my only lifeline in the sea of my own guilt. He cums. He cums hard and I find myself releasing all around him. "You are mind," he says, but I'm barely here right now. I have hit some kind of euphoric voyage, and I don't want to come down. I close my eyes and sleep standing up against the table. When I awake, I'm back in my original hotel room. Sunlight is coming in through the window. My body aches from last night's activities. I start to move and am stopped by metal clinging to my wrists and ankles. "He didn't want you to get any ideas," Shara's voice cuts the silence; "you should find it the highest form of flattery." "I find it confusing," I admit allowed. "You have a full day ahead of you today," she says coming to sit on the edge of my bed, "you will be taken to the house. His house is where you will be taken to be given your duties and meet master's family. If I were you though, I'd keep my eyes down when I met master's brother." I shake my head in response to her, but I am instantly curious about the brother. Black Slave Auction Ch. 03 The house I'm brought to is huge. Shara walks ahead of me and Master ahead of her. My head is down, but the sun is just as hot on the back of my neck as it would be on my face. Nervous tingles escape my brain and make their way all the way down to my naked feet. I at least have the privilege of wearing a dress that resembles a brown paper bag. We walk in and my jaw drops. Master has assembled décor that is straight out of a history book. I'm literally standing in what appears to be a foyer in a big house of a plantation. This is going too far. "Mind your place," Shara tells me. I quicken my pace to be nearly on top of her. God forbid I get lost in this place, there is no telling what could be lurking around the corner. A white woman stands up ahead with her teeth glowing in the poorly lit hallway. Master walks up to her and kisses her cheek. I cringe at the thought that he could have a family. I was notified that I would be meeting someone, but I still hoped it wouldn't be a wife or... Tiny little eyes stare back at me from the staircase. Kids, this motherfucker has kids. I can't do this. I can't go through with this. Then I have a thought, if I don't do it, then who will?Shara escorts me to a room upstairs. We walk right past a little boy about eight years old as if we are merely visitors. At least I won't be staying in a shack outside. I'm actually shocked by how big my room is. The room is bigger than my apartment. The bed is large with thick white sheets and comforter to match. I collapse into the bed, happy to be alone for a moment. Then I hear it, I hear the cough and my heart begins to pump faster. I'm not alone. "I saw you come up," he says slowly. Green eyes mock me. I instantly know who he is. I sit up in the bed and stare back at him. I refuse to say a word. This has got to be a test. "My brother sure has good taste. It is just too bad he treats his slaves like animals". I don't feel like an animal. I feel less than that. I feel like a worm. I am a rat in so many ways right now. I wonder how much I'll be able to find out about masters identity before I have to leave. My thoughts float to the man in the room, he is handsome. I decide to use charm. If I can get the brother on my side, then perhaps I can uncover the Master. "It's cold in here," I say ever so sweetly. It doesn't take anything more than that. He takes the invitation openly and finds himself sitting next to me on the bed. "Now you've got me here," he says with a magnetic smile, "I do hope it wasn't truly because of the cold". I love the way he talks. I place my hand on his. "Beautiful skin," he murmurs against my ear, "is your skin beautiful all over?" He is moving too fast. I've never had to seduce anyone before and I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go. "I belong to your brother," I remind him. "Oh I know full well who you belong to," he says with a wink, "that is what makes this all the more exciting. Do you know the best part?" "What?" I stare at him. "No matter who you belong to, you are still someone's' property," He says slapping me. I hold my head in shock. I hadn't thought this thru. He is beautiful and I assumed that was the danger with him. "So," he says sliding me underneath him, "you can give me what I want, or I can take it." He kisses me. I kiss back. The taste is salty but sweeter than the pain seeping from my bruised cheek. He bites my lip, hard. Hands begin to roam along my thighs and over my breasts. I begin to feel the stinging just beyond my eyes. I don't want to cry with him plastered against me. "You're a nasty whore aren't you"? I look back him and he has his hand up again. I say that I am and he seems appeased. "I want to have you right here, right now, but I'm not going to," he says settling into the bed next to me. "What?" "Instead, I want to see you make yourself cum". I've never touched myself before. I've been curious what it was about but I never imagined I'd be doing it for the first time in front of a stranger. I lift the dress to my knees. Beginning to rub my legs, I am not feeling anything stirring. He is really close to me now with his body pressed to mine. I rub higher with my eyes meeting his. "Now that's a good girl," he says with a smile. Black Slave Auction Ch. 04 The next day I awake and prepare my mind for the tasks that Shara will have for me and the instructions that I will receive from Master. I'm still confused about why I'm here and what I will get out of it. So far things have changed by the hour and there is no set schedule. In my old life, there was always a set schedule. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I can barely contain myself in this house. I feel like I'm never alone in this house. The only time I'm truly alone is when I'm asleep. Even then green eyes haunt my dream and find myself waking up sweating. Its early morning and I'm in Master's house, upstairs, nude, and being inspected by Shara. She says I need to eat more, but I've always been this size. I know that most women have bought in to the ideals of the media, but I just bought into how healthy I feel as myself. Shara isn't much bigger than me and I wonder if it is Master who has said I need to eat more. For a moment, I think about wanting to please him even if that means gaining a few extra pounds. "Master requests your presence for lunch," she says slightly annoyed. Her hands go to my hair and she is practically yanking it from its roots. She tells me that Master prefers my hair straight and she applies every skill necessary to keep it that way. Her hair is a long straight line down her back which is a mixture of all the different heritages that make her. I imagine a young Shara being friends with a young Renee. We would both never fathom a world where white men would create a plantation out of thin air and control young black women. We would play on swings in a yard and never think for a moment that we would be oppressing ourselves to be someone else's fantasy. I'm beginning to read Shara's mood more often. She is jealous and I wonder if she would be just as jealous as little Shara. I don't know what she has to be jealous of, she is beautiful. Not only is she beautiful, but she was here first. Shara is well-built with a slender waist which is accented by her height. She practically towers over a small woman like me. Her eyes are light hazel, but still urban in shape. She isn't busty, but her ample hips make up for it. She is shaped like the typical black woman in Hollywood and she has a Hollywood personality to match. She even dresses nice which I believe is the luxury of being able to dress herself. I wonder if over time I'll have more freedom. "Why did you come here?" I ask slowly. "The same reason we all do," she responds, "we search for something." Shara touches me lightly on the arm causing a parallel of goose pimples along my arm. Fingertips brush against my collar bone and for a moment I think about looking up at her. I can't look at her though. There is something about her chastise touch that makes me not want to look at her. I wonder if there is something there. I wonder if there is an offer of her friendship or is there something more. I'm imagining things surely. I'm so desperate for some form of human connection, that it has circumvented sexuality. I have been thinking about what I might be pushed to do next. I take a deep breath at the thought. She's right in more than one way. I came for answers, but in the process my search has been expanded from a reporter's curiosities, to a woman's curiosities. I'm a black woman pretending to be a slave but the line of pretending is blurring. Sometimes I feel like I should run for the hills, but other times I find myself enjoying the sensations. Master's brother in another world could even be considered charmingly dangerous. I've always been attracted to the bad boys and Michael is as bad as they come. Master's brother Michael, had watched me in a very intimate moment. He had motivated me on to let him inside my brain instead of my body. There was something there in the way that he watched me and didn't once move to touch me. When I was on the edge of cumming, I found myself wanting him to touch me. I had touched myself feeling the skin within me moisten and swell to my fingers. The fact that he watched me had become reflective. He was the mirror to my inner most feelings and emotions. Exploding over my own fingers, I had thought of him replacing them with his own. I had cum for him. I could do what he asked for ever. I get wet just thinking of the moments with him. Sure, he is dangerous, but I liked him in a way. I think every girl has some form of attraction to danger. I liked the way his hand barely brushed my hip as I jarred them into position. He had a way with emptiness as he fills it with himself. I think of him filling me with himself. I could feel myself becoming a maddening animal hoping to cum all over my spent fingertips just one more time for him before he traveled off to some nameless war. My muscled flexed and I had to muffle and exasperated sound with my other hand. He remained silent next to me, but he never took his eyes off of me. His silence was louder than any noise I've ever heard. He had the ability to become sight and sound all rolled into one. "Are you ready?" Shara asks bringing me back through space and time. I stare past her and into the mirror behind her. Her standing behind me in the mirror says so much, I am eclipsing her. I am eclipsing myself. I look at the black doll in the mirror staring back at me. I am no longer the tom boy that excelled in the male world and relished on being better than all the boys at their sports. My painted lips and curled hair is something out of a magazine. Confusion crosses my face for a millisecond. I feel the most pretty as someone else's reflection of what I should look like. "I'm ready," I announce following her from the room. The house is bigger than it seemed when walking up. Most of it is colored in white walls and gray floors. There is something boring about the house even though it is slightly shrouded in darkness. I don't see Michael or the kid from yesterday. There is a woman singing down the hall who I assume is the wife. If they ever have me picking cotton, then I'm running far away. Shara has noticed me as I notice all the things surrounding me, but she doesn't say anything. She never says anything when it is relevant. She seems like the perfect lackey as she never questions, but always manages to make a stand in one direction or the other. I wonder what she was like before this life, she hasn't given much up. She is smart enough to have had a career and pretty enough to have someone at home waiting for her. I follow her walking in stride behind her confident walk. She knows the house really well which surprises me unless she has signed on for multiple months in this house. I know that once my month is up, I'm heading home never to be heard from again. Shara on the other hand, seems at home here. We head down stairs to what is a circular well-lit room off to the corner of the house. Shara opens the wooden doors and steps aside so I can take a good look inside. "Come in Renee," Master beckons me. He stands juxtaposed against the daylight in all his glorious darkness. His suit is black and a little dusty from whatever he was doing before out impromptu lunch date. He stands poised on his cane across the stark white room next to a pale white couch. Lunch they told me, but I see no meal in site. I guess I'm to be Master's meal, the perfect food to compliment his hungry appetite. The room is completely empty except for the looming mountain of a man and the placid couch. Shara exits as I enter. She doesn't look at me and I make a conscious decision not to look at her. She never even greets her Master as she leaves the room. Instead, all of the attention is placed where it needs to be placed, on Master. He stares at me like a piece of meat. "I'm going to ask you a question," Master's voice booms, "and you have one chance to answer honestly." I hold my breath. I imagine that the jig is up and that he knows that I'm a reporter. I imagine that I'll have to leave long before I learn anyone's identity or motivations. I imagine so many things and yet I don't even begin to fathom what he is thinking. "Did my brother see you yesterday?" He asks me and I'm surprised that I hadn't seen it coming. Perhaps this was all a test and I had failed miserably. I pale. I mull over my answers, but eventually I admit my defeat. If it is a test than there is nothing I can do about it now but be honest. I have to be honest in order to make it through the next few minutes and if I'm lucky the next few days. I have put myself on the line and I refuse to have done this and not dig up something. I can't go home empty handed. I refuse to go home empty handed. I slap on my most innocent looking face and walk closer to him. He will do what he wants, that I'm sure of. All I can do is submit to his desires and hope that it is enough. "Lean over the couch," he tells me. I hesitate but his tone beckons me onwards. I remind myself that it is just a month of my life for the story of the century. I could possibly win a noble prize or at the very least hit the talk show circuit. I lean over the placid couch with my dark brown ass up in the air. Sweat pools at the center of my back and the anticipation causes a tremble down my legs. I hear the deep shuffle of footsteps as he comes behind me. He stops and I can practically feel his stare barreling in to me. His hands fall to my doll-like dress. Without compassion he yanks it up revealing my lack of panties. He moans pleased by my lack of underclothes. He seems to be particularly sensitive to me when I do what he commands. "Did he touch you?" His tone is sullen as he asks. There is something almost child-like in his disapproval over my emotions. I wouldn't be the first woman in history to fall for a man despite his appearance. "No," I admit, "not really." He doesn't seem satisfied by my answer. "Not really," he says as his hand slaps my ass, "or no? Those are two different things." I feel my palms begin to sweat against the fabric of the white couch. I am barely able to hold myself up as I think through the answers in my head. He had touched me, but he hadn't really touched me. "Barely," I say stinging from the pain of his slap. "Barely?" Master seems more complacent with the answer. I nod my head in response as he runs his hand up my leg. "Did he touch you here?" His palm slides over the heat brewing on my behind. His soothing white hand is placed ever so delicately over my reddening black ass. "No," I shudder. "Here>" His hand reaches between my thighs rubbing against my moistening mound. I can feel his fingers just outside of my woman hood. I'm oddly excited and scared at the same time. "No," I say gagging on the word. "He is devious", he says slapping me harder this time," stay away from him." He highlights each of the last four words with a slap. Heat barrels through me. I know that his brother is dangerous, but so is he. This whole place is a dangerous mass of boiled feelings and wanting. "Kneel," he instructs. "You my dear peak my curiosity," he says with the same slimy tone he used the first day we met. I don't know how I've allowed him to be peaked by me but in a way it makes things easier. Masters stands before me with the weight of his eyes pressing me to the ground. I look up at him and find the bridge of his nose both long and blunt. His eyes are the only saving grace of his weathered face. Those eyes pierce where normal eyes would just stare. "Are you married?" He shocks me with such a personal question as I'm standing in such a vulnerable position. "No," I respond truthfully. Marriage to me is just a piece of paper. Two people can love each other and never get married. I had dated my editor for a few months a couple of years ago. He had said I wasn't very feminine. Now he is dating a girl from Alaska and they are awaiting their first child. "Do you have kids?" He asks another personal question. "No," I answer. I think about his boy staring at us from the stairwell. He is taking me out of the place I'm accustomed to. I think of a black woman with kids at home coming here and searching for something. "I'm glad I bought you." He says with a smile, "now suck me." Jolted back to reality I undo his zipper and his member flops before me. I'm learning how he likes it, and it is bound to go quick from the way he instantly gets hard. He is sensitive on the head of his fat cock and I suckle it wantonly. Closing my eyes I'm able to imagine that he is mine and I'm his. This grotesque man with his fat cock was young once and his green eyes surely held life. I suck him in deeper now. He moans. I wonder, where did he live as a child? What changes him into this fictional character? I tremble at the thought of getting to know him as his hands fall to my hair. It is such an intimate touch, fingers in a black woman's hair. I open my eyes and his are open to as he inquisitively stares back at me. He throbs between my thick lips. Pulsating and starting to pump against my small pink tongue. I know he is going to cum. "I won't share you," he says and I nod my head in agreement. He lifts me to my feet. His arms engulf me as his tobacco coated breath. This kiss is a moment of pure ecstasy as his hand caresses my naked lower back. I've never been kissed so all encompassing as Master is kissing me right now. His eyes close and I follow suit. His tongue caresses my lip and I part them wanting him to push his tongue further. His cock is at full attention as he holds me so I'm straddling his waist. He enters me in one quick motion which is possible because of the wetness seeping from my chocolate pussy. "I need you," he moans against my hair. I have to admit that I need him too. I need his want of me as he pushes deeper and deeper into me. He is not holding back and I don't want him to because his thickness is filling me. His thickness is hitting the back and the sides of me like I have no walls to hold him. I'm elastic beneath him. His fingers mark along my skin as he scratches down my arm. The pain just adds to my pleasure and I can just feel the orgasm building within. I just want to release, but every time I get close he shifts and I can't cum. I think he is playing with me on purpose. His smile suggests that he knows just how edge I am. "Please," I beg for him to let me cum. He pushes deeper than he has already been and I feel it. I can feel him in my stomach. He is not relenting as he wades into my tight walls. I can't hold on much longer. He is burning me with his deep eyes. It is like he is begging me to cum with his eyes and I want to give it to him. I release. I cum all over us both and the water expelling from me shocks us both equally. "Did you just squirt?" He seems shocked and turned on at the same time. He starts to pump faster and faster until he is cumming just outside my swollen cunt and down my leg. I don't know who the slave is now. I don't know if I want to know. There is so much power in being wanted. "You can't leave me," he says exasperated. I nod my head in agreement, but it isn't the whole truth. I see another truth. There are another set of green eyes that wants me. What will I write about on my return? Will I damn these men and their interest in me? Will I try and explain Shara in a few lines on a cold computer screen? Yes, I search for something, but when I find it will I know what it is? Black Slave Auction Ch. 05 It's been two weeks since I started this journey and already I feel myself changing. There are two more weeks to go until this fiasco is over. I call it a fiasco because my emotions have been stimulated much more than my logic. I've uncovered a name. The last name of Master is Oak. It surely fits his stature. It is a simple name that will be of use to me when I return home. I can't break this media story without taking Master and his family down. As many people that I can uncover, the better. My editor will want names and locations, but the location will be hard to determine. The name was actually easy to find out. I had just kept my ears low to the ground and Shara had been the one to say his name out loud. She was answering the phone and I was shadowing her like I always do. She said his name, and like candy, it stuck to my gums and wormed its way into my brain. Shara wouldn't know that I wanted a name, she couldn't know. Plus, Shara was still wrapped in her jealousy like a warm blanket. Master has been using me the last two weeks. He had been pretty tame with me, minus the racial slurs. In the world of fetishes, racial slurs had to be pretty tame right? Michael however hasn't been so tame. When he does appear, it is to make my toes curl with a glance this way and that way. Master watches him watching me, but he doesn't see me watching Michael. I do watch him though and for the first time in my life I don't know why. Men are supposed to be useful, but with Michael his use goes out the window, because all he does is cause me trouble. His way of looking at me causes me to feel like a woman. Michael doesn't limit our interaction to the hallways. He showed up in my room last night. I had just gotten back from serving dinner to Master and two friends. Each friend was completely different from each other, but they seemed complacent to be waited on by black slaves. Anthony was Italian and he bought in to the pseudo plantation with a large black hat and white cotton suit. I want to remind him about some of his ancestors by dumping hot liquid into his lap, but I don't. I'm learning that I shouldn't even dare to think like that. Master is watching me overly closely. Lou is blonde and young. He seems out of place and almost starts to pour his own liquid. Master seems to be intrigued with Lou like a cat with a bird. I'm intrigued with Lou too, but it is more with the idea of bystander syndrome. If he seems so out of sorts with us being here, why does he let it all go on? I serve him extra meatballs without thinking. Leaving the dinner table, I'm tired, but Michael stands by the window in my room smoking a cigarette. Michael is a Marlboro man like his brother. The smoke floats hauntingly out the window as I close the bedroom door behind me. "What are you doing here?" I say in an angry whisper. He shakes his head in immediate response which hushes me almost instantly. "I needed to see you," he responds gently. I don't know why but I'm happy to see him as well. Even though the walls are paper thin, I still want to slide on top of him right now and make love to him. My breath is caught in my throat at the idea that he needs to see me. First Master, and now him, I've opened myself up to love and the universe has given me abundance. In an instant I clear the gap and practically fall in to his arms. I don't care what tomorrow is going to bring as long as I can have this moment. "If I had known your reaction," he says with a smirk, "I would have come sooner". Tears well in my eye, and it is almost too much emotion for girl like me. I hug him. His eyes widen as he runs his nails along my chocolate skin. Leaving marks with his depth I moan in silence. Putting his cigarette out, he grabs me with both hands and kisses me. His lips wrap loosely around my own as I struggle to keep my footing. Every passionate moment of his life is energy in this kiss. The mystery of him is hidden behind cold green eyes. I run my fingers through his cold black hair. The fine texture of his locks wraps delicately around my fingers. I want him. He wants me to but it may be too much to risk. A free hand finds the hem of my dress and weasels further up almost soaking in my wetness. Masters warning had come with a slap and my disobedience could come with much more. I tremble at the thought of Master punishing me and am even wetter. These two have me almost in a permanent state of ecstasy. I kiss him again and he is hesitant now too. I stare behind him at an open doorway and a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me. I practically jump out of my skin but manage to separate myself from Michael without such a drastic pace. He turns to the doorway as well but he doesn't seem as scared as I am. "Shara?" I say aloud, but she is already gone. Her eyes tell all and I would give anything to question those eyes and know what her next move is going to be. Michael leaves just as quickly as he came and I'm left to ponder alone what the next day will bring. The excitement keeps me awake for several more hours. I fall asleep and am happy to sleep past the sunrise until later in the afternoon. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I do wonder if Master summoning me so late is because of Shara's pensive eyes. Master summons me at noon and Shara faithfully arrives to get me ready. I'm not sure how or if I should ask her what she's seen. She doesn't talk, but instead sets out to straighten my hair. Each time her hand touches my hair I shudder. There is something about the way she is able to remain placid. I still don't say anything and she doesn't either. Throught the mirror, I can see that Shara is much more dressed up today in a blue tunic dress and silver strappy sandals. Her own hair lies in waves around her shoulders. I wonder what has caused the Grecian outfit, but again I remain silent. She looks like she wants to say something to me with her eyes cast downwards on my frame. She never says anything as she leads me to the large dining room downstairs. This dining room is the most colorful room in the house with golden place settings and silver chairs. Shara matches the theme of the dining room. I'm surprised that at lunch we actually eat. Master is again with his two friends, Anthony and Lou, but Shara and I are never addressed. I feel like there is an undercurrent of danger in the way Master reacts towards us. Shara seems comfortable. We are fixtures in the room dolled up like plastic toys. Master stares at me from across the table and I wonder if he knows. Shara keeps her head down and I mimic the motion contentedly. "Renee," Master says finally, "Lou has requested your presence tonight for a drink in his room." I'm shocked. Lou doesn't seem like the type, but Lou doesn't seem like anyone I've ever met before. There is a slight anger to Master's voice but he is the one who suggested it. "I want you to do everything Lou instructs," he says and that is the end of the conversation. The gentlemen start to talk amongst themselves again and Shara leads me out of the room. I can't take it anymore. I wait until we are upstairs before I grab Shara's arm. "Did you tell him?" I find it more effective to go in for the kill. "I did," she says with a frown, "he seemed unaffected by it." I don't know what to think. Shara starts to cry. Her legs practically give out as I grab her and pull her close to me. Her beautiful hazel eyes are masked by a fury of tears. She isn't talking just crying against my bare shoulder. I know I should be angry, but I just feel sorry for her. I've always had a thing for women who cry so hard that their noses redden and their eyes go blurry. I kiss her. It is a gentle chaste kiss but she doesn't pull away. Our soft lips meet and my hands cover her waist. I feel something deep within me soften. She is so beautiful. I continue to kiss her taking her small tongue inside my mouth and against my own small tongue. She moans. I'm not sure what she is feeling, but I know she has stopped crying. I lick her bottom lip and am surprised to find her hands discovering my stomach. Eventually her hands reach my breasts and I find myself moaning against her in Master's hallway. "You are beautiful," I tell her and it seems to jolt her back to reality. "Thanks," she says pulling away from me. She leaves. She leaves and I'm left with the aftermath. I take refuge in my room. My body is still reacting to Shara's touch and I can't help but want to finish myself off. I pull back the covers and lay myself on my right hand. My dress is pulled up to the waist and the coolness of the air hitting ass just emphasizes my feeling. I slip my finger onto my clit and start to touch it in semi-circles. My clit is already hard and reacts almost instantly to my fingers moving and pressing. I can feel my orgasm building and I'm so close that my breath has changed. Rapidly I breathe over myself as I become wet to my own touch. Shuddering I let it out. I let out all the energy that is pent up and explode a withering mess on the bed. "That was beautiful," the gruff voice of Master floats into the room. I turn my head ever so slightly to see his green eyes ablaze in the door way. "It seems," he says angrily, "that you aren't only going to be mine." "I want to be yours," I lie to myself more than I lie to him. "I don't think you're capable of being with anyone. You have all these deep rooted issues and I don't know what to do with you", he moves forward in to the room. I don't know what to say, and he is making sense. It sounds like something my mother would have said. I don't know who I am feeling closer to at the moment. With him in the room, everything feels hotter. I can feel his need for me. I can feel all their needs for me. There is something about me that changes people. I'm not exactly a blank slate, but they are able to feel me with all their doubts and needs. "I'll leave if you want me to," I admit. I haven't found much and this is not a Lifetime movie. I will leave and never look back, but I still need him to tell me to go. I need him to tell me what to do next. "Lou," he says slowly, "Lou may be exactly what you need." He says it matter of fact and then he is gone. Thoughts swirl through my mind. Lou is young and probably fresh out of college, by Master trusts that he will be able to guide me more than I can guide myself. I wait. I wait atop my sheets for the sun to drop in the sky. Night comes all to slow and Shara doesn't appear. Instead another girl finds me. I wonder about Shara, but not enough to ask this new girl about her. She tells me her name is Tish. I accept the short version of her name as she pulls a red dress out of a bag and lays it out on the bed. It is beautiful. Tish holds the dress up to her tiny brown frame. She looks like the type of creature that should be wearing the beautiful red dress. She is shorter than I am and that is saying a lot. She is also almost the same complexion as me but with a tad bit more shine to her skin. I kind of hate her instantly, but I can't put my finger on why. I learn through conversation that she belongs to Anthony. "How does he treat you?" "He is a gentleman," is all she says as she helps me in to the dress. "What do you know about Lou?" "Nothing," she says with a smile, but it doesn't quite meet her eyes. Lou is waiting for me in his room with a glass of something red in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers for me in the other hand. He doesn't take up much space as he stands by the corner of the coffee table with his blue eyes set on me. He would be extremely handsome under other circumstances even if he is younger than what I typically go for. He motions for me to move closer to him and I do as he instructs. "You look beautiful in that dress," he smiles but again the smile is plastered on like all the other smiles of the day. "Thank you," I courtesy, "you wanted to see me tonight?" I guess I ask the question to find out just what I'm doing here. I still can't quite put my finger on what is wrong with all of this. He instructs me to take a seat on the chair next to him. I sit in the chair only to find him coming behind me. Rope is stretched across my arms and abdomen. "What the hell?" I yell. "I have a specialty," he says rubbing me with his finger tips. His child-like nature has disappeared. "Some slaves enjoy pain," he says standing in front of me now, "my job is to find out if you are one of those slaves. The great part about all of this is that I really enjoy giving pain." I start to shake and try and move the chair. I'm completely stuck with one strand of rope. He starts to work on my legs. Each of my legs is tied to the chair legs with a small length of rope. "Don't go anywhere," he says with a laugh as he leaves the room. I really start to try an escape but with sweat pouring down my back and on to the red dress, it is clear to me that I'm not going anywhere. Lou returns with a black bag and places it at my feet. The first thing he pulls from the bag is a ball gag made of rope. I'm beginning to sense a pattern. The material of the rope doesn't feel very good wet and thick between my lips. He is so smooth as he pulls a thin metal object from the bag. Holding It with one hand he pulls it back with the opposite hands thumb and finger. When he lets go it hits me with a resounding thump. Stingy pain flows over and through me. He does it again as I shake my head in opposition. "Slaves who like pain, need it to function," he says dropping the small object back in to the bag. He begins to untie me but I'm to frozen to try and get away. He is toying with me. He throws me on to the bed with my back facing him. The next object he pulls from the bag has a handle and many leather straps coming off it. It looks medieval. He hits me with the object and at first there is no pain. Then he starts to build pressure along my back. After a few minutes I'm reacting but completely in silence. My body is reacting by leaning back against the object. It feels good. It is this warm thud pain that is taking me to a place I've never been before. I can feel myself getting high. I'm getting high and there is nowhere to go but up. "How does it feel," he asks me. "I'm floating," I say with a smile plastered on my face. "I think you are done," he says with the last furious hit he can give me. I don't even care that he has stopped. I'm gone. Everything around me is warm. The fabric on the bed is overly warm. I search my brain. Heat rises. I roll myself off the bed and on to the floor. Droping to the floor himself, he holds me about the waist. The closeness keeps me sane. I'm warm but I'm sane. He is a beautiful man. I kiss his neck. I kiss his neck and he lets me. My teeth graze the skin along his exposed collar bone. He rolls me on to my back. Without notice, he pulls my dress up and places himself inside me. Every bone in my body is his to mold and manipulate. He thrusts deeper and deeper inside me. He doesn't care how I feel. He just continues to wade inside my walls and I cum. I cum so hard that it feel like the floor moves. He comes as well down my leg and underneath us. It is the first sex that I've had here that didn't make me feel guilty or dirty. The truth is, it doesn't make me feel anything. Black Slave Auction Ch. 06 It all started with "welcome to the auction". Who would have known that four little words would alter my future forever? I had taken on this undercover work for my job at the newspaper. I believed in this noble prize winning article in the making. I found it hard to believe that there were people out there fabricating a black slave/ white master lifestyle. Sure I had read the red room books and seen the leather clad women on television, but this was a whole other level of crazy. As hard as it was to believe when this all started, is as true as it would become. Not only were people doing this, but a lot of people, and they enjoyed it. Aubrey had initiated me into the auction and told me that my term as a slave would last a month. She said it so stone faced, like a month acting like a slave is a normal course of action. Standing on the precipice of the biggest decision of my life made it feel much longer. Seeing light eyes and pale skin just below the auction block had made it seem like an eternity. This is the last day of the month, and it is the day I decide if I go home. My home isn't much, but it is mine. It would be the first mine that I would recognize in the last thirty days. I wanted to lie on my couch and eat my food, but there was something holding me here. I think back on the first time seeing Shara's light brown face. Her height was overshadowed by her innocence. Even her jealousy had this innocent tone that I couldn't recognize in myself. There were so many things I hated about the smug jealous face, which always seemed to be around. I think it was me that I really hated. I came to love her in my own way. I would even come to make love to her, for Master's pleasure and my own. She was so soft beneath me that I felt like I was making love to a pillow instead of a woman. The wetness she garnered for me was genuine and nice. I would always remember her. I think about being in the penthouse dressed as a movie star and feeling like a fatted calf. She was there then. The dress wasn't me and the straightened hair certainly wasn't me, but in a way it was. She had reassured me that it was what Master wanted and surprisingly, that was enough. I had seen myself as beautiful for the first time ever. With someone else seeing me as beautiful, I was able to look at myself through different eyes. Beautiful wasn't my only feeling though. The nerves coursing through my veins as I was presented to who would be known only as Master nearly crippled me. There he stood, Master, a titan of a man with cold green eyes and graying hair. He was completely aware of himself and aware of me. Even when he would talk to me about the fact that he wasn't enough for me, those words just added to his awareness. He could move heaven and earth if he wanted to. Nothing about Master was conventionally sexy, but ever thing about him was commanding. The way he wanted me played daintily in my loins. It still does. It frightens me and stills me all at once. I am water around him. He is stone. I remember the first time he called me, "stupid little nigger girl." I had blushed at the truthful words. Only a stupid woman would put herself in the position that I'd gotten myself in to. He said he would wash me from head to toe that night but I had to wait until many nights later. I had waited too, on bated breath, I found myself waiting a lot. The anticipation would build within me like a second orgasm. One night he came to my room. He didn't speak. He just went to the bathroom and drew me a warm bath. When I slipped my foot inside that water, it was almost an awakening. He helped lower me into the tub my breasts were above the water where he took a sponge and slowly washed each one, careful of the chocolate nipples. Every tingling touch of his thick fingers relaxed me. My chocolate nipples seemed much larger mirrored by the still water. "You are so dark," he purred continuing down my stomach and almost to my thighs. He liked to make me wait before he would touch my sex. My whole body blushed red underneath him. We had broken down the barrier. I could be myself around him. "Do you want to join me?" I don't know why I asked him but he did. I could see in his eyes that he did. I became accustom to being used for his pleasure. I'll never say it aloud, but it was my pleasure to serve the white man. He strips his clothes off and shares the extra large tub with me as he pulls me close against his wrinkled flesh. The fact that he is aged only added to the effects of me being submissive to him. I would spend days wondering about him and how he came to be this man. I would wonder if he ever loved someone who was as dark as me. I wondered about his wife that night, and why she wasn't enough for him. He is careful not to cum inside me, and I know I'm not enough for him. Maybe, no one is enough for him? Reminiscing, I think about the tobacco smells that will never come out of my hair. Master liked to smoke and I was privy to each delicate whiff of him. Even the bath didn't wash away his smell. His smell is engrained in me now. He toys with me. Sometimes he is gentle and sometimes harsh. He seemed to really feed off my fear. Being chained to the bed after the warm bath is only as euphoric as the dreams that haunt me. I think about him, never letting me go. The chains tighten around my wrists as he takes a feather down along my abdomen. He is watching me squirm. He says he can't live without me and somewhere deep inside, I believe him. I want to be the only one, to one person, one time in my life. Master makes me feel like I'm the only one as he stares with his green eyes. I know I'm not however because he still refuses to cum inside me. I see his eyes and I see other eyes as well. There are his wife's blue eyes and his child's eyes that like Master stare at me knowingly. Master is a man of mystery, and he doesn't leave much for my investigation. Instead he interrogates with his eyes. He watches me with his eyes. One more set of eyes I will remember if I choose to leave here, his brother Michael. His eyes the same as Master's with much deeper intent. He willed me in a way that no man should ever will a woman. He watched me, as I masturbated on the bed for him. He lavished in the way that I didn't really want to defy my Master. Master is a word that relates to so many people right now. I could choose to run away with Michael, but only if he let me. I have love for them all. It is the weird kind of love that sometimes people develop for their captors. The love I have for Shara makes me really start to think about myself and the way I have been affected by this journey. There have been punishments, rewards, and I have barely gotten enough information for a column, let alone and expose'. I'm damaged and healed all at the same time. I think a million thoughts, but the night is just beginning. I will make my choice in the morning. At nine p.m. I'm brought to Master's bedroom. Someone else brings me. She is a tiny black girl that I've never seen before. I have no room for her, so I don't wonder about her. Instead I'm happy to be asked to the presence of Master. I've only caught glimpses of his room before, so standing inside this colorless room, I start to really take it all in. Master really likes the muteness of it all. There is nothing in his room that would distinguish him from any other white male of the south. He has no color. He likes to be able to choose to add people as decorations instead of items. For now, I am his artwork. "You have a big decision tomorrow," he says beckoning me to his placid four poster bed, "I'm afraid that tonight won't make it any easier for you." I still. Nothing he has ever done has made something easier for me. I stand in the middle of the room feeling far from easy. "Do you want me?" I ask the question but I'm not sure what it refers to. I'm sure he wants my body, but he could have more if he only asked for it. I want him to ask for it. "Do you want me?" I repeat with my eyes alight with as much fire as I can muster. I stare at him and past him at the same time. I wait for him to respond. I can't move until he responds. "I want you on your knees," he responds in his gruff tone, "I want you begging like the nigger slut that you are." I drop to my knees looking up at him and I can tell from the bulge in his pants that I've made him happy. He only gives me something solid when he's happy. I falter a bit on my knees now. There are so many emotions pooling through me. He sits on the edge of the bed nearly straddling my face. His hands reach out to my straightened hair. I move my face against his leg. I find comfort in the way he pets me. I practically purr against his legs. "You are a good little nigger aren't you," he says lifting my face with only two fingers, "you have learned so much." With those two fingers he lifts me to my feet. I'm facing him and his green eyes are set ablaze. He kisses me. It is passionate and all encompassing. His tobacco smeared breath is hot against my lips. I kiss him back giving him the full force of my tongue. His hands play gently in my hair. I moan against him. It is the first romantic moment we've had. I can't break the kiss. His hands fall gently to my breasts. He cuddles them. Gently he presses and my nipples harden under his hand. He removes my right breast from the sheer fabric and places it delicately into his mouth. A tremor blares through me. Now his hands are at my thighs. The dress is removed and I can feel the weight of him pressed against my naked frame. He is so reckless. He places me on to the bed. Removing his clothes he climbs on top of me. His hands and mouth make quick work of every inch of my body. The first orgasm escapes me long before he penetrates me. I'm a shaking wet mess as he places his member at the entrance of me. "I don't want you to go," he murmurs, "I always wanted you to be mine." He enters me and the thickness of his cock makes me tense. He is wading into me with every inch of himself. I can feel his cock harden and I know he is getting close. In the back of my mind, I don't want him to pull out. "Don't stop," is all I manage getting out on the verge of another orgasm. He pushes in to me again. His weight is almost suffocating me. I use my hands to scratch along his arms. My body starts to quiver and quake. I can barely breathe the orgasm is so intense. It takes over me and at the same time takes over him. He cums. Warm liquid flows inside me. I'm enough. I squeeze my pelvic muscles so that nothing escapes. Happiness is me. Around ten we are laying in each other's arms. I know that I could fall asleep like this. I curl my hands into the dark hair covering his chest. His hand is at my backside. His large hand cups my backside and I suddenly feel so small. "Stay if you want," he prompts me. I contemplate it. I know what he means by the word stay and that is what makes me leave. My room is the only place I can be alone. I need to be alone in order to make any kind of individual decision. Alone in my room around midnight I hear the sounds of night just outside my open window. Crickets chirp where there is usually silence. I guess these creatures want a say in my choice as well. I don't know who I am anymore. I place my head in my hands. I guess I never knew who I was. Rain starts to pour outside. I can hear the drips and yet they seem so far away. It is the first rain since I've been away. I had forgotten the weather being here. I had forgotten most everything being here. I curl up in my large blanket and I cry. The sound is mimicked by the rain. I am coddled by the rain. Michael awakes me three hours later. I stare up at him as he stands next to my bed. His hand reaches out to me, a life raft. "What are you doing here?" He kisses me, and it is the same sadistic Michael that I remember. He is toying with me no doubt because it is my last day. He crawls into bed with me as he holds my body close to his on the bed. There is warmness here. I push my body closer to his until we are almost one individual. "I have a surprise for you," he says as if we are lovers. "For me? You shouldn't have," I play along. He leads me from my room and down the stairs to the cold floor of the living room. It is pitch-black and Master is no doubt in bed. Even asleep I have no doubt that he is aware of my misfortune. His brother is the Catch-22. I am damned if I do and damned if I don't with him and the worst part is that he knows all this and feeds off of it like a leech. He is worse than all the others in the façade because the way he owns is natural. Still I hold his hand and let him lead me through the dark house. Like two lovers we bump into each other and bump away again. He shields me as we pass the moistening window which is open and welcoming the misty rain. He sits me on a sofa in one of the parlors with his hands encasing my own. All I can see in the darkness are his eyes. He moves in front of the window and I can see all of him again. "I don't buy it," he says slowly. "What?" I'm caught off guard. "You are not like the other girls who have come here," he says holding my face firmly in his hands, "who are you and what are you doing here?" I can almost see the precipice. I want to tell him the truth because I seek to tell anyone the truth. I feel all alone here. I don't want to feel all alone here anymore. I choose to trust him with the whole story. "I'm a reporter," I sigh. "Oh my, you are a wicked little cunt aren't you," he says pushing me into his chest. "You can't tell you brother," I plead. "And why would I not?" He seems exasperated by the conversation. "Because," I realize it all the more now, "I'm in love with him." It is like the point in the movie where the girl has overcome all the obstacles to get to a point where the audience knew she should have been long ago. I'm here now and I'm sure now. The truth is that I do love him and he me. I could choose to stay under him now. I could choose to ask about becoming his permanent slave. There has to be a permanent to this. Shara seems to have been around for quite some time. My eyes are lightened now. I breathe deeper now. Then I hear it the familiar footsteps entering the room. She clicks her heels just as she rounds the corner. Even in heels her walk is specific and pointed. "You are a stupid cunt aren't you!" Shara is yelling now and the slap she lays on me has all of her force behind it. My face instantly reddens under her hand. I stare up at her. This is the same woman I've made love to and loved, overtaken by jealousy. Her eyes pulsate with fury. "Tie her up," she instructs to Micheal. He pulls rope from somewhere and begins to tie it around my wrists. I've never seen him comply. There is something about Shara that awakens him. "You thought you had us all fooled. You thought you had me fooled," she says as anger swells her eyes. "I'm being honest now," I manage to get out just before the ball gag is placed into my slick mouth. "I want to watch you fuck her," Shara says madness overtaking her; "I want to see what all the fuss is about. Tasting her did not control me, but maybe there is something she does with you. You fell for her just like your stupid brother." He kisses my gagged mouth allowing all the saliva to soil between us. Roughly he palms my breasts. She is cackling just beyond us now. "My brother calls you a nigger," he says looking at me now, "I think the rest of us have been too good to you." Black Slave Auction Ch. 07 Introduction I lie in my Master's arms. He is so broad and encompassing as I plaster myself against him. I'm shaking from what was sure to be an endless night before he rescued me. He is not the typical hero from the romance novel. Master is an older white male with smoker's teeth and a cane he uses sometimes to offset his growing belly. The only really conventional beauty he has is in his green eyes. They are the same green eyes he shares with his younger brother, but the mind is different. Master only lets me submit if it is the choice I made. He has made it perfectly clear that he doesn't need me. Even though he is scared that I'll leave, I'm sure it is for my benefit more than it is for his own. So when I chose to stay, imagine my surprise when I was nearly taken from it. Part One Shara had told me that I would never see Master again, but in my slave heart, I had known different. Master would come for me, I believed deeply. I just knew that he would have known what my choice had been. He had to have known that I would choose him. I had chosen him. So I was not entirely surprised when he showed up with fire blazing behind him. He knew that I wanted him. He knew that I loved him. Mostly he knew that I chose him. I'm ahead of myself though. Let's start near the beginning of the night. Shara had taken me to a hotel. I finally was able to see something of the city I was in, but it was still rural at best. The hotel she had taken me too was very Norman Bates with a large sign outside saying vacancy. They had un-blindfolded me just before pulling up. I think they wanted me to have hope, but I'm not sure they understood just how much hope I did have. Michael's hand firmly on my thigh had let me know not to scream. His other hand against my backside told me not to run. I hadn't really thought about either before feeling his hands. His hands could garner so many emotions. I blink back thoughts of his hands over mine massaging my love and pushing me to cum over and through myself for his enjoyment. No, I mustn't think about the softness of his hands. These two meant business. Revenge is the most dangerous motivator on the planet. Shara felt like I had wronged her with Master and Michael had just suffered from an ego shot. Now motivated by revenge, hands could do some terrible things. Inside the room, it had been freezing. There was mold growing in every crevasse. Something scurried across the room and hid itself under the bed. I instantly began to itch from things that may not be there. "I'm so cold," I said to deaf ears. They had no reason to listen to me any longer. "What now?" Michael seemed perturbed. I cringed at the thought of what they might do to me. If bored enough, Michael can be capable of real damage. Shara was so starved for attention; she might have give up the reigns. To get rid of me might not have caused much suspicion except from my editor who wouldn't really look for me. My only hopeful thought is that Master would know. I didn't know how he would know or that if he did that he would come, but I did have hope. I had hope as Shara slapped me hard across the face sending me spiraling on to the bed. She was very harsh like a wild animal as she straddled me pressing her knees into my thighs. She kept me spread open and in the midst of all the chaos I had lost my clothes. I had been spread wide open when Master entered calmly and sure of himself. "What a beautiful sight," Master said bursting through the door. My breath caught in my throat at the sound of him. "Let her go Shara," he said angrily to the light brown skinned woman that I use to think of as innocent. The same woman who I thought of as sister had transformed into something maddening and guilty. She froze at his voice. I think in the back of her mind she too knew he would come. I could physically see her recoil as if she had been hit. "You came for her," Shara says almost child-like now. Her tiny face stares at the massive man in the doorway. "Yes," he says taking up a large volume of the room, "I did come for her." It was hard for Shara to hear him say 'her' and not mean herself. Shara has loved Master for a very long time. It is a different type of love though and Master knows it. He appreciates her. She is a beautiful brown skinned girl, but he never had to break her. I was a challenge. I was the strong black female that chose to submit, even though I had other choices. Shara in a way felt like she had no other choice. She liked the superiority role-play, but she had a hard time separating one white man from another. She would feel connected to any Master, because she thought of herself as lowly. I've never thought of myself as lesser than I am. Master stands in the doorway as Shara slides off of me. I rushed into Master's arms, knowing exactly who he is. I rush into Masters' arms knowing exactly who I am. Part Two Lying awake with the rain pouring just outside the window, I feel reborn. Master's arms are wrapped around me pulling my chocolate skin close to his own pale flesh. My hands are nestled on his chest and his are in my thick black hair. "I want to tell you something," he says slowly. A million things run through my mind. I remember the woman who I associated as Master's wife and the eyes of a child, but there wasn't love there. I take a deep breath realizing that it doesn't really matter what he is about to say, I'll love him anyways. "If you wish to tell me something, then I will listen," I say pushing my naked flesh into him until we are almost one. His soft belly molds against my flat abdomen. One day I have hope that it will swell with his babies. "My name is Gregory Jones, and this is not my house," he starts, "I've been looking for you my whole life." This was all a façade he says. He and his brother created this fantasy more for the women than for themselves. He tells me that somewhere along the lines things got blurred. The white woman had given him a child, but she wasn't his wife. His brother had lost his sense of reality all together. He wasn't expecting to meet someone like me, but since he had, he wanted to be himself again. The problem is he isn't quite sure who himself is. He tells me that he grew up in Virginia in an all black neighborhood, but that no one ever blurred the lines. Good white boys married good white girls. He says it was the eighties when he was in his twenties when he had his first black experience. I place him in his fifties. It didn't really matter how he might be, because I had already fallen in love. "Her name was Tisha and she was dark and beautiful. She was so independent, not at all like the white women my family and friends were thrusting at me. Everyone wanted me to settle down, but not with Tisha. They wanted her gone because they didn't understand my love for her. One night we lay in each other's arms with my cock placed inside her. I wanted her to have my babies. I wanted the world to see the product two different races could make. My family must have known, because they came for us then," he murmurs distantly. I can see the pain in his green eyes. I'm enamored by the story. He continues. He continues even thought the pain is etched into his face. His family had been discreet and he had been weak. They dragged her out in the middle of the night and he hadn't fought to hear from her again. They probably didn't hurt her, but he hurt her because he didn't fight for her. "I remember her nude body so vividly. Her curved hips and ass hit the carpeted floor before her hands had a chance to help her. She looked up at me with deep brown eyes. I knew what she wanted, but I was too weak to give it to her," he says placidly. He holds me closer now until we are almost one. He knows I won't leave him. The fact that he can be weak gives me strength. I press my lips to his taking in his familiar tobacco smell. My fear of him was long gone. His eyes ignite against the shadows as we kiss deeper, and more passionately. His hands explore every inch of me and I start to tingle. I feel him harden against my abdomen as her grabs my backside. He rolls me over and lets his weight fall on to me. I am his slave. He finds himself inside my wetting sex. He isn't tender as he pushes himself deep within me. I let out a moan which seems to egg him on as he places my hands above my head encased in his own muscular hands. He slides slickly into me, slapping against me. He is so solid that he is filling me up. "Cum inside me," I beg. "I will" he says getting onto his knees, "not yet though, I want to enjoy this." He instructs me to keep my hands above my head as he explores with his own worn hands across my face and down my neck. I can't breathe because my orgasm is building so deeply. His hands caress my breasts. A flick of the nipples and I'm tightening around him. Another flick and I am about to betray him. I don't want to be punished, but it is so hard to hold on. "Don't cum," he instructs bending to take my nipple into his mouth. I'm high off my own body. My thoughts escape to a world outside our own. How did I get here? "Please," I beg in shortened breaths. "Not yet," he says turning us so I'm on top of him. I straddle him. His hands grab my hips as he thrusts deeply inside me. My body fits perfectly on top of his. He helps to guide me into a rhythm I can't find on my own. He is so deep. My knees begin to buckle. I can't hold on. I want to, but I can't. "Now?" I beg him to let me cum. I beg him with my mouth, eyes, and every other inch of my body which might make him bend. "Now," he responds to my exasperated yelp. We cum. We cum together in a mass of swollen flesh and wet skin. He unloads inside me. He groans and peels his nails down my flesh. "Now you are mine," he says looking into my eyes. I press my face to his, "and you are mine." Part Three Slave auctions are always hot and always surreal. Master sits beside me in a carriage he bought for my birthday. It's funny that he thought all of this was a façade, but he was really meant for it. "I think she is cute," I point to a light skinned doll baby on the platform. "Maybe too cute," he responds fanning himself under that multi-colored sun. "I love you," I say as she is sold to some other white Master in the crowd. "I know," he says, "and I you. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be me." He is right. He is always right. I had pushed him to buy the plantation style home. I had pushed him to take on another slave. He seemed the most happy when he wore his mask. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks me as a beautiful black girl walks onto the platform. She is darker than I am with larger breasts and a slimmer waist. She is the one. We both know it, but neither of us is saying anything. The bidding starts and Master is late to enter. He wins. We win. I walk up to the white man conducting the auction, point to Master, and pay the money. He eyes me curiously. Maybe he remembers me. "Thank you Sir," I say politely. I meet the chocolate girl around back. She is completely self aware in her nudity as she stands with her hands on her hips. "My name is Costa," she says. "A nickname?" "Yes," she responds politely. "Renee," I offer and she seems pleased. I blindfold her and lead her to the carriage. She won't know Master until Master is ready. (COSTA) My name is Aubrey Daily. I go by Costa. I am a reporter. I'm following up on a lead that a reporter went missing on. My editor believes that Renee has been brain washed. He expresses that he is scared that I'll be brain washed as well. I'm too strong to be torn down by a secret society. I have to much to lose not to blow this whole operation wide open. Sure, there is an element of danger in all this that one might find sexy. What I find the sexiest, is that I get to play a part. I have always been one hell of an actress... (To be continued in COSTA)