Chapter 1

She read glanced over the letter again, for the fifth time tonight. A rather innocuous letter, really. From a local charity, confirming her entry in their annual fund raiser. Sure, she'd been to these things before... was even involved in the planning for last year's event... one of those bachelor auction things, where the women all gawk and whistle as local celebrities and businessmen were "auctioned" for their services. You know, be her date... cook a gourmet meal, wash the car, that kind of thing. This year, the board thought that roles should be reversed, and she was asked if she would mind terribly if they listed her as one of the "items" to be sold.

She giggled aloud, wondering if the directors knew how long she'd had slave fantasies, or how vivid they were. Many were the nights she lay in bed, making love to herself, imagining that her Master was ordering her to pleasure herself while he watched, teasing her by making her stop before she came, then having her start up again, having the orders repeated again and again, until the bed below her was saturated with her juices. Making her sleep with her ankles tied to the corners of the bed, gagged with her own soiled panties. Ordering her to wear her own cunt drool as perfume, and forbidding her to bathe. Doing the household chores naked, often on her knees, and sneaking outside when she had to piss. Going to work with the word "SLAVE" boldly written in red marker above her shaved genitals. Shopping at the supermarket wearing only a cotton dress and sandals, no underwear, with lewd comments written on her bell, tits and ass. All these things she had done, and more, but only alone... never with a real Master controlling her.

Cheryl really wanted to be a slave, to be commanded by her Master to do these things, if just for the weekend. To be forced to spread her legs for Him, or kneel while He ravished her as-yet unused back door. To clean him afterwards, using nothing but her tongue and mouth, tasting her own cunt and ass. She knew this wasn't what the directors had in mind when they set this slave auction thing up, though. Most of the "slaves" would be bought by their husbands or boyfriends, and she doubted that any of them had the dark desires she felt. To them, it was just a cutsie way of raising funds. Well, simple fund raiser or not, she was going to push things to the limit.

She smiled as she took the outfit she'd bought especially for tonight down off the hanger. The tiny black bra that exposed more of her smallish, firm breasts than it hid, her areolae obscured by the satin, the rest of her globes covered only by thin, translucent lace. Matching g-string panties barely covering her silky smooth, shaven slit, little more than a piece of floss behind, leaving her ass cheeks completely bare. The matching lace baby doll didn't cover much more, tied just above the navel and barely covering the top of her ass cheeks when she stood. Black 4" strap heels to accentuate the athletic legs that attracted so much attention... Ah... almost forgot... gold chain necklace... wrap it around the ankle few times. Matching choker... yes, she thought, but black lace to match the outfit, or gold chain? She posed seductively in the mirror, comparing both before deciding on the chain. Perfect. Time to go. Grab a full- length leather coat on the way out... don't want to get stopped by some cop, after all. Well, maybe being stopped would turn out to be fun, but not tonight. Other, more important things to do.

It was a short drive to the old theater where the event was being held, but the warmth she felt wasn't just from the summer air. Leather was always a turn-on for Cheryl, and the smell of her own building need combined with that of her coat to fill the car with a distinctive mix of scents. One finger traced its way along her inner thigh while she drove, her mind filled with thoughts. Driving through a seedier part of town, she slowed as a pimp slapped one of his scantily-dressed bitches, wondering how it would feel like to be used like that, to be forced to take any man in any hole he desired, providing he had the money. Her thoughts wandered, the car seemingly on autopilot.