Chapter 1

Guy woke late and stumbled out of bed in his tiny hotel room. He opened the curtains and looked down upon the street below. For a split second, it was disconcerting to see traffic driving on the "wrong" side of the street. But after a quick shower and a quick bite to eat in the hotel restaurant, he headed out onto the Strand with tourist map in hand.

Glancing at the map, he figured that Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park were to the west, while the Tower of London and Tower Bridge were to the east. Or, perhaps he'd take a walk to see Westminster Abbey and London Bridge, or go for a ride on the Millennium Wheel. As he was crossing a side street, a punk in a Day-Glo orange Mohawk haircut was handing out flyers, practically shoving one into Guy's hand. Guy grabbed it and kept walking. He noticed that other people, who were also thusly flyered, were tossing theirs in rubbish bins without even reading them. Yet, curious as to what sort of nightclub or local punk band the fellow was plugging, Guy slowed his walk and read the flyer. The flyer was produced by some sort of Dungeon Society and was promoting a permanent TPE "Slave Auction." Holy cow! That can't possibly be true! Still, it was certainly something interesting. The auction, such as it was, wasn't scheduled until the evening, so Guy continued on his way.

His way brought him past Harrods, where he spent some time shopping for some British fashions to take back to America. A couple of books and a box of Earl Gray tea finished his shopping spree.

Guy found a small pub on the edge of the Thames to have lunch, where he spent a good hour watching the Millennium Wheel spin round. He pulled that flyer out of his pocket while he ate, and noticed that it was coming upon the time for that "Slave Auction" to begin. He paid his tab and hailed a cabby.

The flyer gave the location at some address on Connaught Road. He had no idea where that was, but wasn't too surprised when the cabby brought him into an industrial Docklands area, within earshot of a regional airport. A bouncer looked him over as he entered the warehouse-type building and relieved him of the flyer that was also his admission ticket before handing him a wooden paddle with the number "42" painted on it, along with a sheet of instructions.

Once inside, he looked a bit out of place. Almost everyone was wearing leather garments of some type or another, or at least black clothing. His white sneakers, beige cotton slacks, and bright yellow tee shirt stuck out like a divine spotlight shining down upon the pit of hell.

Men in leather led collared women about by leashes more often than not, though a few women in leather led collared men about my leashes. Not to be missed, though, was the occasional woman leading another woman, or the occasional man leading another man.

The people were all approaching a large central platform, like a theatre in the round, so Guy squeezed his way up and found a seat a few rows from the edge of the platform. It wasn't really very crowded, though. Not counting the slaves, who didn't seem to be present in the audience, about 30 or 40 people sat in the audience.

Guy stretched out and read over the directions. It basically said how one raises his paddle to bid, and what to do to enter a slave in the auction, and what to do after one wins a bid. He looked over the payment options. Cash is preferred, but they also take money orders and traveler's checks since they're as liquid as cash. They don't take credit cards or personal checks for obvious reasons.

Before the bidding started, the auctioneer stepped out onto the stage while a handler led a smiling young redheaded girl who couldn't have been over 17. "Lyzi here," began the auctioneer, "has offered herself up as a permanent slave. She's a self-proclaimed pain-slut and is enthusiastic about becoming someone's property for life. She's an orphan whose parents both died of Ataxia, a rare neurological disorder, and the proceeds will go to the charity, Ataxia UK."

The bidding started at 1000 Pounds, a quick translation in his head made that about US$2000. "Hmm," Guy mused, "I still have almost four thousand, 'spree money' left. I can afford her if the bidding doesn't get too crazy."

The auctioneer immediately called out, "We have one thousand! Anyone for eleven hungered for this fine young specimen of womanhood?"

Guy raised his paddle signaling his bid of 1100 Pounds.

"We have 1100! Anyone up for 1200?"

Guy looked around as paddles went up all around him while the auctioneer rattled off higher and higher amounts. The bidding turned furious as her going price crept up into the tens of thousands of Pounds. "Oh well," Guy sighed when she passed 2000 Pounds. She finally went for 21,300 Pounds.

After a slight shuffle on the platform, another exemplary model of womanhood was presented for sale. "Kristina here is a permanent slave being sold by her master who's in the market for a younger girl. She's been thoroughly toilet-trained, and is accustomed to being used as nothing more than a sex toy."

Again, the bidding started at 1000 Pounds. Guy bid a couple of times, but stopped at 2000 as the bidding climbed into the tens of thousands once again. She sold for 18,900 Pounds.

The third slave to be presented was a muscular young man. "Peter here," the auctioneer announced, "sold himself into slavery last week in order to purchase, and then free, his sister who entered into a Total Power Exchange relationship and subsequently regretted it after it was too late and she had become a slave."

The bidding on Peter started, as usual, at 1000 Pounds, then progressed more slowly than it had for the women. The relative lack of women in the audience brought Peter up to 9100 Pounds for which he was sold to a busty brunette dressed all in leather and chains.

The night went on like that. Guy was amazed at the number of people who, through various circumstances--usually beginning as a consensual situation, then evolving into true slavery--wound up as chattel property to be bought and sold like used automobiles.

Guy also noticed that, as the night drew on, the crowd gradually thinned. As the competition for each subsequent slave slowly dwindled, the winning bids were gradually coming down.

By the time the approximate 20th slave was brought out, the crowd had dwindled to a small handful of people. "This is Lex, who's been a permanent slave all her life. Her master passed away and she was left to the estate. All perfectly legal." Guy could see that Lex had a few years on her, though she was, by no means, old. Rather attractive, actually.

The bidding opened at 1000 Pounds, as usual.

"Do we have 1000?" the auctioneer called out. "Anyone?"

Guy was on the verge of raising his paddle when someone in front raised his.

"We have 1000! Do we have 1100?"

Guy wasn't sure--it was getting late, and he was getting tired. He wondered how safe the streets of London were this late at night, especially in the Docklands area. He started to stand to leave as the auctioneer called out, "How about 1050 anyone? Anyone bid 1050?"

Still nobody bid, and the auctioneer called out, "Going once! Twice! Sold for 1000 Pounds!"

Guy sat back down and caught the look on the woman's face. She looked floored to have sold for such a relative pittance as slaves go. "Maybe one more," he thought.

A dark-haired girl was brought out next. "Next we have Fuschia. I'm told that not only is she randy all the time, but she comes with a University degree and professional's CV--a rare find in a slave! If you need a helping hand in your small business, as well as in your bedroom, don't let this one get away! She became a slave as a result of a lost wager. The proceeds of her sale will go to her local fire brigade. Certainly a good cause! Do we have an opening bid of 1000 Pounds?"

"I wonder what a 'CV' is," Guy thought. "But what the hell. She's rather cute." He raised his paddle.

"We have 1000! Do we have 1100? Anyone?"

At that, one of the remaining women raised her paddle. Guy chuckled inward at the astonished look on Fuschia's face to see a woman bid on her.

"We have 1100! Do we have 1200?"

Guy thought quickly. This might be his last chance to own a slave. Imagine! A woman who can't refuse! A woman whom one could use whenever one was in need, and whom one could just treat as a "thing" otherwise. Guy raised his paddle.

"We have 1200. Do have 1300?" The other woman who bid kept her paddle down but a man in the rear placed a bid.

"We have 1300, do we have 1400?"

Again, Guy bid.

"We have 1400, do we have 1500?"

Then that woman raised her paddle, putting the bid at 1600 Pounds. But Guy upped the ante to 1700.

"This fine slave is at 1700! Can we get 1800 for her?" Neither the man nor the woman bid her up again.

"C'mon!" the auctioneer cried out. "For a good cause! How about 1750 anyone?"

At that, the woman bid 1750.

"1750! Do we have 1800?" Looking at Guy, he said, "You sir? How about it?"

Guy paused, then raised his paddle.

"We have 1800, anyone care to take her to 1850? Anyone?"

After a wait, the auctioneer called out, "Going once! Going twice! Sold for 1800 Pounds!"

At a loss for words, Guy gasped, "Holy crap!"

After catching his breath, he glanced at the paper and checked the instructions. He stood and walked to the rear of the platform where a cashier sat inside a caged booth.

"How you going to pay for her, mate?" the cashier asked. Guy reached into his trousers and removed his travel pouch from the lining and removed $4000 in travelers' checks. "American dollars?" the cashier asked.

"Yeah," Guy said, suddenly worried. "Is that a problem?"

"No, sir," he answered. "But we need to calculate the exchange rate and charge a conversion fee."

"No problem," said Guy.

The cashier gave him change in Pounds for his $4000. A few moments later, a handler appeared, leading a fully dressed Fuschia by a leash attached to a heavy leather collar round her neck. She was carrying a small duffel over her shoulder. The handler handed Guy the end of the leash along with a yellow envelope, saying, "These are her passport, birth certificate, driver license, CV, degree, and other legal papers."

Handing the leash to Guy, the handler added, "You should know you got a real good deal here!"

"Really?" asked Guy.

"Really!" the handler said. "They'd have got a lot more for this bird had they sold her at the start of the auction."

"I see." Guy took the leash from the handler and asked, "What now?"

"Whatever you want, my good chap. Take her home. Fuck her! Enjoy yourself!"

Guy met Fuschia's eyes. She swallowed hard and looked away.

Guy let out a sigh, realizing that he hadn't taken a breath for a few moments, at the gravity of what he had just done. "I just bought a slave! I own another human being! Holy shit!"

He looked at Fuschia again, who met his gaze with a shy smile, then looked away once again.

Guy looked at the handler. "But how? How can I lead a collared women through London?"

The handler laughed. "You haven't been in London bloody long, have you?"

"Not really."

"You'll see sights more bizarre than collared slave women, I'm sure."

Guy shrugged. He HAD seen his share of Goths and punks, often in collars and chains. He tugged on Fuschia's leash and led her out of the warehouse.

There were some cabs waiting out on the street, so a cab ride brought Guy and his new slave back to his hotel on The Strand. When he got to his room, he looked at her and said, "Well, now..."

"Sir?" she asked in a British accent.

"What shall I do with you?"

"Whatever you wish, sir," she said meekly.

"If I take you to bed with me, you will?"

"I did this to myself, sir, with full awareness. You own me now." She swallowed hard and continued, "Use me as you wish. I shan't refuse you."

"Well, I've had a busy day, Fuschia. It's past 1 AM, so I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"Yes, Sir," she said.

Guy took a quick shower while his slave waited in the bedroom. He emerged wearing a bathrobe, while Fuschia waited on the single bed, fully dressed. "Undress, Fuschia. I want to see you again."

She hesitated for a split second, slid off her shoes, and removed her top, then her skirt. Glancing up at Guy, in her bra and panties, she smiled and removed her remaining garments.

"Very nice!" Guy said. He felt his heart pounding at what he was contemplating: sex with a woman whom he had only met a few hours ago; a woman whose body was now his personal property. He felt himself growing big at the thought.

He dropped his robe and took her in his arms, feeling his member press against her crotch. Though she smiled at him, he felt her trembling as he pressed his lips to hers. Her warm kiss tasted sweet, and he stood there a few moments swapping saliva with his new possession.

Reaching around her, he pulled the bedding down and gently nudged her onto the bed. The narrow single bed was only wide enough for one, so he climbed in on top of her and rested his weight upon her.

Guy sensed that she was accepting her station as his slave well enough, but he doubted that he would find release that night. For even though she came to be a slave with "full awareness," could any woman be aroused under such circumstances, even if willing?

Still, it was worth a try. He reached down between their pressed-together bellies and pressed his finger to her most private flesh. He gasped. "Fuschia!"

"Is something wrong, Sir?" she squeaked.

"Hardly! You're soaking wet down there!"

She looked him in the eyes. "I surprise myself sometimes, Sir." She looked down then and added, "Yes, I'm frightened. I don't know anything about you, why you bought me, or what you plan to do with me." Then she met his gaze again. "But I'm excited too. Like the auctioneer said, I'm randy almost always. And this is such a thrill! I want to be a good sex toy to you. I really do!"

"Then I hope you like this," he said and thrust his hips down and in, sliding his erect member into her soaking pussy.

She gasped when he entered her, then her eyes went wide with terror as he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed with all his strength while he pumped her. He thrust slowly at first, then gradually sped up, pumping her fast and hard. Her mouth quivered while she waved her arms around frantically, slapping his body and trying to push him off.

"Stop that!" he scolded her while continuing to pump her. The sexual rush was incredible! He could never imagine doing this to a willing girlfriend. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her soaking pussy while she slowly suffocated was more than he could contain.

His body went into auto-pilot as he exploded inside her in a more powerful orgasm than he had experienced in a long time. His hands choked her in an iron grip that was beyond his conscious control at that point, while he shot wad after wad of cum deep into her pussy.

By the time his orgasm started to fade and he regained conscious control, his slave had turned slightly blue and was waving her arms around feebly. He released his grip from her neck and she let out an explosive gasp. He lay on her with his flaccid member still gripped by her pussy lips as she struggled to catch her breath.