Angela's Trial and Tribulations (11 page)

“All right, boy, do your stuff,” said Mr Bunter, and to her amazement, the young overseer began to undress. She watched carefully as he removed his shirt, revealing a most pleasing torso whose muscles were clean and whose skin was as smooth and clear as her own. Then he kicked off his shoes and dropped his trousers. She stared down at his groin. While she expected to see all her fellow slave girls nude of hair all over their bodies, she had never seen a man like that. She thought he looked better without all that hair and it certainly made his genitals very prominent.

His boss thought the same as he sat at his desk and stared at the monitor, his own cock hard and demanding attention.

“Over here, girl,” said Johnny, pointing to the small padded rutting bench William had provided in each of these inspection rooms. Understanding dawned and she nodded, showing neither approval or disapproval on her serene face. She laid her body down on the bench and spread her legs. The now naked young overseer mounted her without as much as a glance at the red-faced fat man in the chair and began fucking her.

William Morris had spent many hours tutoring him in this regard. First because the boy had been quite uncouth in his love-making skills but even more importantly, because he delighted in having him naked in his presence and even more so rutting with the beautiful slave girl he had chosen as this day's subject. To watch as his pert buttocks clenched and softened with each thrust; as his back muscles rippled and his great cock ploughed in and out of her naked vagina was a real thrill.

By now Johnny knew how to put on a real performance and he moved with grace and beauty. His boss had told him that many men would be admiring his body nearly as much as that of the girl and that he was to play up to them if this appeared so. This gross, red-faced man, was one such and Johnny contrived to flex his muscles as he moved over to the bench. Angela watched him with amusement. She knew precisely what he was doing and she thought it quite comical. Of course she hid these feelings. To have shown them openly might well have earned her a session at the whipping post.

She was please Johnny knew his stuff though. By now she had had many lovers and had become quite skilled at judging their ability. Johnny was good and he very soon had her up near her first climax. She squirmed her body under his and clawed at his back and buttocks with her fingers, not because she wanted to but because she knew it was expected that she show how lusty and how wanton she was as a sex-slut.

Chapter 8

 

 

Johnny had, under Mr Morris' tutelage, learned to hold back his own climax and he paced himself, bringing her to six orgasms before his own. There was a clock on the wall and he managed it perfectly, timing his somewhat exaggerated climax to the hour. Morris had extended the sessions to an hour so that potential purchasers might see what wonderful sexual endurance she had. When it was over he rose up off the girl and stood beside her, grinning sheepishly as the fat man praised his efforts. He was dismissed and he took Angela with him.

“Good girl,” he whispered to her as they strode along the corridor and out into the courtyard.

“You were good too, sir,” she whispered back.

“Thanks,” he said dryly but grinned appreciatively at her.

She had many such sessions before all kinds. Some young and good-looking, others old and fat as William Bunter had been. All made offers for her and these were becoming quite outrageous now. Angela wasn't aware of her own value but even if she had been, it wouldn't have made the slightest difference to her. She was still the demure and innocent but so beautiful girl she had been nearly three years earlier.

She was still kept in her own cage and every day hundreds of men came to stand up on the roof and stare down at her lithe, so athletic body as she exercised under the direction of the overseer in charge of physical development of the slave girls. Then, after being hosed down to rinse of the sweat of that session, she had to stand up near the bars of her cage and pose and strut her body while dozens of other men pushed and shoved to get a better position. She maintained that Mona Lisa smile throughout and more and more of these men demanded a session with her and Johnny Pratt performing. This came to be a most lucrative source of income for Dealer Morris but he knew that soon he was going to have to sell her. The pressures were becoming too great and in the end they might militate against him, working to the opposite of what he had aimed for. His customers would fall away in disgust when they realised he had been baiting them with her body.

He eventually decided to auction her.

This was not his usual way of selling. He far preferred to deal personally with his buyers, judging what he thought they could (and would) pay for a particular girl and he was very skilled at it. But with Angela, he thought an auction would satisfy all the many clients who had made an offer on her as well as bringing in hundreds of others who might conceivably buy a lesser girl afterwards.

He prepared things carefully. Every detail was given his personal and full attention. Seating, decorations, refreshment. Advertisements, TV interviews, entertaining reporters... All were attended to and ticked off in his mind as he made decisions on them and then fulfilled them.

He would make a killing here but only if he played his cards right.

Angela was displayed on a four foot high white marble column. This was topped by a Corinthian capital and he had schooled her in various poses she was to adopt during the course of the sale and before. Venus de Milo was one of these but there were others. And in between the studied poses, she was to move her stark naked body sinuously.

He crammed as many seats into the courtyard as would fit comfortably and he had hired waiters to move among them, serving wine and savouries. There was also space at the back for more spectators.

For those whom he expected would bid, he had allocated seats near the front. For the rest, apart from a few other favoured clients, it was first in best dressed. The seats were all occupied well before the event was scheduled to start at ten in the morning and the space at the back was also crowded solid. Mr Morris was well pleased. He expected to make three to four hundred thousand on this girl.

She was already on the column, having been placed there by means of a step-ladder before the gates were opened. It was a good idea to give them all as much of a view of her as possible. Stir up their passions at the sight of her naked loveliness; generate in them a wish to bid on her body... She had already adopted two of the poses he had trained her in and she smiled down at the sea of faces before her. He mounted the podium precisely at ten and smiling broadly, held up his hands when the clapping began. “Gentlemen, welcome to this first auction to be held at my premises. As you well know, I do not usually favour the auction as a medium of sale, preferring to deal with you all on a personal basis. But in this case, since so many of you wish to purchase the girl, I have decided that this is the only way to satisfy you all fairly...” He omitted to mention it was also the way by which he would make most money.

“I do not need to extol her beauty or her nature. Both are well known to you all. The one you can see before you ...” He paused as she began to move (on cue) to show off all her naked charms to their greedy eyes. “... and the other I am sure you have heard of by word of mouth.” Again he paused, letting her slow and sensuous movements speak for themselves.

Then he invited offers. “Shall we start at, say, two hundred thousand?”

The bids came fast. They rose in increments of ten thousand and William smiled as he acknowledged each one in turn, his writers noting the name of every bidder and his bid. Angela did her bit of course. She had always been obedient and now was no exception. She posed her body, thrusting out her breasts, lifting a leg to expose her vagina better, wiggle her hips seductively and smiled down at the audience. Some of these she knew - intimately, having felt their coarse hands ranging all over her body. Most she didn't. To her the sea of faces seated in front of her and even more so, those who formed the press of the crowd at the back, were just that: one enormous crowd. She found it better not to try to identify faces. Somehow it was less shameful...

For she was shamed. Even though she had had to pull gigs through public streets for James and Alex, and been subject to stares and ribald comments by many men, that had been nothing to this. Here, hundreds of lecherous males were doing nothing but stare up at her so nude body. Once more she felt humiliated by the absence of her pubic hair which had at least partially hidden her sex from view.

The bids continued to come but then, as the figure reached four hundred thousand, they slowed and then stopped altogether at four hundred and ten. Angela was appalled.

The bidder was that red-faced, gross man, William Bunter. The idea of being available to this man on a daily basis was horrible.

“Going once... Going twice...”

“Five hundred thousand,” came a muffled voice from the back of the crowd.

Morris didn't hesitate. “Sold to the gentleman in the back for half a million dollars!” he said, triumphantly after making sure his writer had the man's name.

The crowd dissipated quickly and Mr Morris hurried up to the office to consummate the deal. Johnny Pratt was left to get her down and take her back to her cage. “Half a million, eh, Angela? That's a record and a half!”

“Is it, sir?” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “What's this then?” he asked but he knew, really.

“Just to thank you for being so nice to me up there,” and she nodded up to the main building... “Who is he, sir?” she asked then.

“I don't know,” he said. “I was down near the front. All I saw was his hand for everyone was milling around. He was black, but that's all I know.”

She nodded. Black white or brindle, it was all the same to her. This sale meant just another step away from her Jason. She still thought of him every day, wondering what he was doing and if he thought of her sometimes.

She was collected by a chauffeur-driven limousine and placed in the luxurious back seat, all by herself, still stark naked and feeling quite foolish as Johnny and Mr Morris saw her off. She was driven to a quite nice, but not top-class house in a good suburb and the chauffeur led her up to the front door, knocked and then departed, ordering her to wait. He got back in his car, which she now realised was hired, and took off, leaving her naked and alone on the front step.

The door opened and she stared, goggle-eyed at the man who grinned down at her. “Come in, Angela,” he said softly.

She didn't speak. She cried a little, then rushed into his arms. “Jason?” she said at last. “You live here now? Has the mayor bought me back? You look wonderful!” All this came out in short staccato bursts while he held her by her shoulders and stared down into her beautiful violet eyes.

“Yes. No. Thank you,” he said, smiling back at her, his own eyes misty as he stared at his lover. “But first, some clothes?”

“Clothes?” she said blankly. “I'm a slave. It's illegal, isn't it?”

“I don't care. Here, look what I got for you ...” She stared over at the pile of beautiful frocks, skirts, tops, frilly underwear and the like on the table in the front hall then she rushed forward and began to try them on.

“Ugh, they feel horrible,” she said, turning away from the table and back to her tall black lover. “Anyway, they're the least of my concerns. If you live here now and the mayor didn't buy me, who did...?” But then she remembered. Johnny had said it was a black man. “It was you who bought me, Jason?”

He grinned. “It was me.” “But how?”

His face sobered briefly then. “You remember Mrs Brown and how badly the mayor treated her?” Angela nodded. “Well one day it all became too much, especially after he had her brought to his room to watch as he fucked one of the slaves. She took a knife and cut off his cock and balls then laughed hysterically as he tried to staunch the massive bleeding. When she was sure he was dead, she killed herself... Guess who was the heir?”

“You?” “Me - and you.”

“Me?” she said blankly. “No, not me. I am a slave - your slave.”

“Yes, indeed you are, but not for long. There is no way to free you under our laws so we are going overseas. This house is rented and I have converted everything Alex owned into jewels ...” He showed her a small bag containing precious stones. “In there is a small fortune. No, not so small actually. They are mine legally and being well- known, are registered to me.” He paused to let this sink in while he kissed her and hugged her now partially clothed body to him, holding her tight as if to ensure she could never get away again.

“And where are we going?”

“I thought Australia. They call it the lucky country. I want to marry you, Angela. We can start afresh there and do whatever we want.”

She began to tear the clothes off her body again while he watched her in amazement. “Angela?” he began.

“Shush,” she said, holding her finger up to her lips and now undressing him. He grinned and helped and when he was as naked as she, he lifted her up in his powerful arms and ran with her into the bedroom.

Their lovemaking was exquisite. Soft and hard, gentle and violent. But it was overlaid with a love so strong it overran the physical act. Afterwards, as they lay together she spoke dreamily. “Does this Australia have any small islands for sale?”

She smiled at her. “I don't know, why?”

“I don't ever want to wear clothes again and I don't want you to either. Naked, together, always, growing our own vegetables, raising a few sheep, our own cow... And making a brood of our own children.”