bakerstreet | The Slave Auction Meme

The Slave Auction Meme

â§ Leave a comment with the character's name, fandom, and whether your character will be playing the part of 'slave' or 'master', plus preferences for scenarios if you have any.
â§ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
â§ Please remember to be respectful of others while you play

Warning: Be aware that this meme deals with dark subjects like slavery and may also contain non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex, violence, and kink.

SLAVES

1. The Newbie - This is your very first auction and you don't quite know what to expect. Hopefully you remember your training and don't disgrace yourself in front of your new master. Hopefully someone thinks you're worth buying at all.

2. The Oldtimer - You've been bought and sold and bought again so many times. You've seen it all before and don't think this time is going to be much different. In fact, the only real anxiety you've got is whether or not someone's going to pay for a more than slightly used slave.

3. The Pet - You're a pleasure slave. A bed warmer. A decorative piece of artwork. You're meant to look pretty and be pleasing and not much else.

4. The Guard - Your master hired you because of your ability to swing a sword or shoot a gun, not your looks.

5. The Escape Artist - Somehow you always manage to squirm out of your master's chains. Too bad you seem to get caught after a while. Maybe your next daring escape will be permanent. Then again, maybe your next master has special ways of keeping you locked up.

6. The Undercover - You aren't a slave at all, you're just pretending to be one. Why? Well that's up to you. Either way, your cover is blown if you don't act the part.

7. The Specialist - You have a skill that no one else has. Something rare and valuable. Something your master needs more than anything else.

MASTERS

1. The Customer - You've owned slaves before and this trip to the market is nothing new to you. Still, you're hoping to find something worth your while.

2. The Gift - Someone bought a pet for you, isn't that nice of them? Or maybe it isn't so nice. Did you even want a slave in the first place? Well you're stuck with one now.

3. The Giver - You're selecting a slave for someone else, and they need to be perfect. Perhaps you'd better test them out first to make sure you're getting your money's worth.

4. The Trainer - You specialize in taming unruly slaves and making them over into perfect, obedient, well-trained pets.

5. The Rebel - You hate the idea of slavery, but the system isn't going to go away any time soon, so the next best thing is to buy up any slave you can get your hands on and free them, right?

6. The Companion - You want someone to be with you always, someone you can talk to and depend on, someone who will never leave your side. It's a good thing that money can buy that these days.

7. The Undercover - You're not actually a Master. You're at the auction for an entirely different reason. Maybe it's special policework, maybe you're trying to hunt down a certain someone. Either way, your cover is blown unless you act the part.

As always, feel free to use a combination of scenarios or make up your own if you have other ideas.

Snagged from here.

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"No way. You stay on the outside of this door," Stiles argued even though he knew he wouldn't win. He scowled and stood his ground even though his gaze kept going to the cage. "And sleeping in your bed isn't any better than the damn cage."

Derek frowned, glancing at the cage for a moment. He could give him something.

"Alright. I'll give you this. I won't watch you while you take a shower. However. You get to choose. The crate, or the bed. I'm not going to touch you. I just can't let you out of my sight this early on," he says, mentally confirming that everything was locked away in the bathroom besides soap. While Stiles was washing Derek would go get him some dinner. Something light. Probably soup so he wouldn't be sick after so many days of not eating.

Shy about touching women? Not at all.

Konoka's reluctance had stemmed from the ethics of owning someone like a slave, and the fact that if she wanted to be pervy, Sonja had no means of refusing. But why trust the law anyway? The law got her stuck like this in the first place, and Konoka was all for enthusiastic partners. So if treating her like a sex slave made her happy, then Konoka would do so.

"Maybe not uncommon," Konoka answered, her fingers still working on that slit. "I just got wrapped up in the... unique situation we're in." Namely, how does one help their arousal for this sort of thing when it's forced on them.

"Ah- yes, it's... complicated." She thought of suggesting just having her do nothing but honestly she did want to be used more than she wanted to just sit in a room bored. A guilty confession.

"Can I- grab you?" Sonja said, her hands trembling with nothing to grab as Konoka was having the time of her life rubbing her pussy. She was wet and getting wetter by the second.

Temugin stares at him for a moment - more impertinence, but he's honestly never dealt with this before. Nobody has left him to his own devices. Ever. Or told him to make himself at home.

"All right."

Awkward pause.

"Thank you."

He watches Stark leave, and once the other man is gone, he heads towards his room. His room.

This is going to take a lot of getting used to.

For a moment, Fae stiffens, just a bit. There's something in the curious honesty of Keelan's voice that catches him off guard. As much as he can run his mouth and use his own words to poke and prod, when the tables are turned on him, his instinct is to lock up every limb and thought behind a casual smirk. No one takes that kind of interest in him, and that's fine, because he has no desire to expose anything hidden behind the wall of fire that is his behavior.

Keelan's already shown more trust in him than anyone rightfully should. Normally, Fae is the type of take advantage of this idiocy. He could easily kill Keelan right now if he wanted to, the man himself admitted he'd have little chance to stop him. Even with Zeke's guard dogs outside, if Fae has the element of surprise, he feels confident about his chances of escape.

But at the moment, amazingly, he has no desire to any of these things. Even if it's just a shallow interest, Keelan is obviously fond of him. That's such a rarity, Fae finds he's more interested in indulging in it than taking advantage. Maybe he'll come to regret that decision later, but his life has always been about moment to moment, and that's not about to change now.

Especially not when he has a cock rubbing against his, and a body just a eager to take and give as he is. Fae's priorities are simple, no matter the situation - what he wants always comes first.

"Yeah," he answers, and the word rides out on a hot sigh. "Since that's what usually happens, had to learn to like it." With Keelan's fingers working over them both, Fae can hardly hold his weight off of him, grinding his body against Keelan's like he intends to force him past the wall. His own fingers curl into the dip between Keelan's cheeks, stroking and pressing along that delicate stretch of skin behind his balls. "I bet you know how that is, too."

He knows his preferences must seem strange, how he can grin against a whip at his back, around a cock shoved down his throat, but hold his hand or cradle his head and suddenly all the fire in him snuffs out. He's so used to baring his teeth he's not sure what to do with them when there's no reason to bite.

"Most people try to avoid it, I think. They don't realize once you own the pain, you take some of that power - you become a little less interesting to hit." He shudders as Keelan's grip rubs over the head of his cock, and Fae's arm that's still wound around his lower back presses him in, like he can't bring him close enough. "Not everyone can do it," Fae admits, and then he laughs, low and full of heat. "But I'm not everyone."

There was hope, of a fashion - enough for Vayne to enjoy bringing some of its light to her eyes. Some hunters were known to give their marks an avenue of escape to better ensnare it. It was, after all, the hope of a peaceful surrender that maneuvered Dalmasca exactly where Vayne needed it. Hope was...useful.

"One alone? I suppose they must be very particular to you. A childhood friend? A brother, a sister?" His eyebrow lifted over that intense stare. "A lover?"

Now there was a thought that heated his blood. The wind had begun to pick up at his back, as warm and inviting as her curves. Vayne felt the magic laced in his body beginning to murmur, his muscles loose but eager.

Eager to take that hope and crush it. Eager to wring surrender from those lips.

"An amusing bargain, my lady. I accept. But should I prevail..."

He was not smiling. "You will pledge yourself to me. You will renounce your dear Princess Ashelia," he said, making no pretense of the vagrant princess' false name. "You will forswear Dalmasca. I will be your only kingdom. And you will ask me, by name, to bear you to that bed and take my pleasure."

It's a relief to go down to the lab and lose himself in work for a little while - this whole situation is very strange, and Tony's not sure what he's gotten himself into. He needs to clear his head.

In the windowless lab, time seems to stand still. There's no day or night, no meetings or business deals, no mysterious slaves to occupy his attention: just the meditative complexities of engineering.

When he emerges several hours later, he feels much steadier. It's night, now, and past dinnertime. Tony has devoured all his protein bars, but his stomach is grumbling for something more substantial.

As soon as he steps out of the elevator, his stomach growls - something smells incredible.

He trots up the stairs, following his nose like a dog. "Oh, wow. What did you make? That smells amazing." He wonders if there's anything left. He should have told Temugin to cook for two.

Temugin had gone to lie down on his bed for a while, but found it too soft compared to what he was used to. It was an odd situation, and he was unused to being idle. Perhaps he ought to have gone to the lab with Stark. Being left alone and idle seemed too much like a trap.

He decided to cook after a while instead. He found cooking to be a calming exercise, which was why it was his least-disliked task as a slave. Something complex, something that would take his mind off of things.

When Stark comes up the stairs, he's almost finished with the curry he's been working on. "Kaeng kari," he says. "Yellow curry."

Keelan nearly crooned when the friction between them hit him just right, his eyes fluttering and threatening to roll back in his head. Instead, he let an unsteady breath loose. The other man wasn't the only easy one in the room, though this strange desire was more potent than any aphrodisiac he'd ever been exposed to. This was true want, and it picked his pulse up faster and faster the more the other man spoke. It thundered through his veins, making him feel more alive than he had in a long time. The thing was, he easily knew why this was all getting to him.

The other slave - whom Keelan didn't have a name to yet - and himself were two sides of the same coin. He'd lost his fire, his hope, - even his will to escape and know freedom again, however much an illusion it was when you were a slave. But it was easy to see that the other man hadn't just by listening to him speak and see how he took action.

Life was beginning to spark inside of him again.

"It doesn't mean they stop. If anything, sometimes if you show you like it they strike you more out of spite." His free hand pressed to the back of the other man's neck, drawing him closer. A tilt of head was all they would need to breach the gap and kiss again, but instead Keelan was more interested in something that seemed very important suddenly. "What is your name? You never gave it to me."

"Mmm." Tony walks into the kitchen and peers into the pan. "Is it too late to double that order? I was just gonna eat pizza, but that looks way better."

As Temugin's master, he could just take it without asking, but that's a dick move. Tony had told him to cook for himself, not for both of them. He's not going to start out this relationship by being an unpredictable, passive-aggressive jackass.

Stark wouldn't be the first unpredictable, passive-aggressive jackass Temugin has had the dubious pleasure of serving under. And that was the most mild of them.

And he knows what he needs to do.

"This is for you," he says.

"Or you could just lock me up in another room far far away from you," Stiles stated but there was a hint of a grin on his lips now. Derek was giving into his demands and it hadn't even been a day yet. He had been right about having the werewolf eating out of the palm of his hands.

"Also I'm mark free. The salve they use at the auction house made any scars or marks go away."

(Going with a salve that is mixed with werewolf blood to enchance the healing ability so marks like brands and tattoos are t lasting on slaves with many masters.)

"Oh." Tony looks up at Temugin, pleasantly surprised. "You ate already?"

It doesn't immediately occur to him that Temugin might be offering his own meal; his first assumption is that he has merely taken the initiative to make two meals.

Temugin has two options.

One. He could lie. Bad choice, usually. It's saved his hide before, but it's also gotten it flayed.

Two. He could tell the truth. It's actually right and proper for the master to eat before the slave.

So he tells the truth. "No, I haven't."

( the master )

His name. Did it matter that much?

Fae's tempted to keep it, if only because it'd be fun to see what Keelan's willing to do to get it. But maybe it's a fair trade-off for releasing him. After all, Keelan's risking quite a bit here. He has a job he's been tasked with, that he seemed to be taking very seriously, until he let Fae unravel him with his mouth and hands.

Fae admits this whole interaction has taken a very different turn than he'd expected, he was looking forward to testing limits and forcing Keelan to have to rip whatever he wanted away from him. But he's not unhappy with how things have turned, not at all, and if he thinks about it - it's Keelan who's allowed this, it's Keelan who's really taking a risk for them here, and Fae's stomach suddenly flutters at that thought. Whether it's appreciation or apprehension, he's not sure.

But certainly the least Keelan deserves is a name.

Before giving it though, Fae takes a moment to close the small distance between them. There's s sharp inhale as his mouth slants over Keelan's, his hands squeezing down firm muscle as he jerks the other slave against him. It isn't a breathy, teasing thing like before, this kiss is hungry, Fae's tongue shoves past the part in Keelan's lips to drag over the roof of his mouth, bringing the taste of it back with him into his own.

When he pulls away, breathing shallow, he starts working his way down this skin that wants his mouth. He yanks at the ties of Keelan's robe until it falls apart like an invitation. It's clear he's kept in good condition, firm but incredibly soft, his skin might as well be velvet compared to Fae's. Something primal in him aches to ruin that, and so he drags his teeth over a pert nipple, down Keelan's slim torso, muscles twitching beneath the rake of his teeth.

Fae's knees hit the floor, and he bites at the skin just beside the base of Keelan's erection. He takes that bit of flesh and rolls it between his teeth, tugs and squeezes and sucks, surely leaving a mark, before releasing it with a soft exhale and licking the pain all better.

His palms encircle Keelan's waist, his intentions clear as his eyes flick up to Keelan with a brief smirk. "Faerin," he says simply, and then he's tipping his head in and parting his lips - swallows Keelan into the wet heat of his mouth with one swift thrust of his head.

[ She had been done up properly, her hair washed, her body freshly bathed and oiled for viewing and touching pleasure (as in anyone wishing to buy would get a chance to get up close and personal with the slave). Her hair was a deep red and her eyes a pale green. Depending on the young Thracian woman's moods, their color would change to reflect them. Loose curls hung around her shoulders, braids woven within, golden string laced through. This would not be the first time she'd ever attended an auction to be sold, bartered from one pair of rough hands to another, a multitude of men and women buyers looking for slaves to do their bidding, to warm their beds.

Her turn would come next, she was sure of it.

Capua, Italy. That was the place to be tonight. Many prestige men and women invited. Sofia could hear the noise outside of the room she had been placed in to wait with the others; they would all be called soon to line up and present themselves to the gathered crowds, each wearing a small plaque from their neck with their information listed— name, age, height, weight, the types of services they were good for, skill sets.

They were lined up, a mix of ten men and women, ushered out of the room and led through the luxurious hall, walked along the path between the built-in pool and fountain in the center. Ten pedestals stood in waiting. The crowds had gone silent, watching on, the music soft and drifting from the back of the room still.

As she was helped up onto her step, it was a feeling she would never become used to, the one of being put so prominently on display. Her wraps were tight across her chest, breasts accentuated, held together at the waist by a single, simple rope which could be loosened to give any potential buyer a better look into what and where their currency was going to. Sofia let her eyes sweep over the many faces watching on, pausing to lock gazes with one man she didn't recognize. And then she held her head high and stared straight ahead, breaking away, well aware of the other eyes boring into her, aware that she was being undressed by the looks cast in her direction.

In the back of her mind, biding her time, she began to devise a plan. A time would come when she might use the heavy plaque as a means to hurt. She needed to think... ]

"Oh," Tony says again, now looking slightly disappointed. There is yet another awkward pause. This is becoming a theme.

There appears to be only enough food for one, and there isn't a second dish in the oven. "So what are you going to eat?" Tony can't believe that he's not hungry this late in the day.

For a moment he was disappointed with not getting a name. Keelan didn't want any power that came with knowing that name, he just wanted to know it for his own peace of mind. Maybe to remember in the future when he's wondering how the other man is doing while Keelan himself is locked in his gilded prison. Maybe so there was a name on his own tongue when he came.

But that moment of disappointment had been brief, his mouth willingly opening to accept the other man's kiss. His own tongue pressed against the one in his mouth, moaning low and pulling him all the closer. But it was over all too quick, leaving him to pant softly with the absence of lips on his own. As if the breath had been sucked from his lungs and he was aching to catch it again. Which was very difficult with the pleasurable jolt from teeth on his newly exposed skin, making him shiver.

Keelan's fingers thread through the longer parts of the other man's hair as he descends. It's not soft hair like his own but it's not coarse either, and he finds himself liking the texture as much as its owners actions. His lips purse together, brows furrowing, and head falling back against the pain so close to his cock that he's afraid to roll his hips into it. There was something about that action that seemed so primal, so feral, that made it all the more intense. Keelan didn't know if that was pleasurable pain, or pain he didn't mind.

"Faerin." He murmured softly, mind muddled for long enough that he didn't immediately realize that he was repeating the man's name. Not that his head was much clearer with the man's mouth on his cock, nor his hips so easily kept from thrusting into that heat. Was this Faerin's impatience or just something he wanted to do? Either way, Keelan wasn't complaining.

"I should show you how to take someone without hurting them." Keelan said, his voice deeper now than it had been before. "So you can fuck me too before the night's over."

Not one to let himself be overwhelmed too long, though it was still difficult to concentrate with that exquisite mouth on him, he raised his leg slightly and slid his toes against Faerin's hard length. Between two toes, he began stroking the man's shaft as best he could with the somewhat questionable dexterity of his feet.

The slightest raising of an eyebrow is the only hint in the young man's expression that he takes note of the way he's being addressed. His words are reaction and response to that enough, for anyone bothering to read between the lines.

"My name is Eren Jaeger."

Firstly, he did not address Alcuin as 'master,' although he should have. Then again, what little he'd been forced to speak to his former master over the course of the evening suggests that is a return of the respect given in Eren's own strange way. The young man had learned to say all the right things with a stress and tone that made them sound highly insulting. And then elevated that skill into an art form.

Secondly, he'd given Alcuin the name he'd been born with, rather than the 'civilized' name that would have been assigned to him as a slave. While he still retains an accent, Eren had managed to pick up the lilting, nasalized language spoken within the cities better than some; yet when he spoke his name for that moment he'd slipped back into the harsh and guttural sounds of the barbarian's tongue as easily as breathing.

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, as if challenging Alcuin to try taking his name away from him.

"I'll make more."

It's not particularly complicated to make, after all. He'd be more up-front, but he's still trying to get the measure of Stark. Exactly what kind of master is he? Temugin has a sneaking suspicion that he's entirely unique.

Konoka actually thought of just saying 'sure'. What was the harm?

But then she remembered this was a girl who was both a military genius and unbelievably turned on by this situation, and it might actually fit to indulge this one a little more.

So instead what left her mouth was, "Your mistress will allow it." Sure, it wasn't said with all that much stern authority, but Konoka was a diplomat. She wasn't the callous type of domme and couldn't be one to save her life. But showering affection like a vice? Yeah she can do that. And to that end, she encouraged her by using her free hand to pull her closer.

[The slave.]

"What I want doesn't matter." Alek remarks. "Threaten me all you want. Kill me, send me back, whatever you like. I will not work for you."

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The Slave Auction Meme

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quickly tags before i sHOWER

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I'LL FOLLOW MY NOSE! WHEREVER IT GOES! TO THE FLAVORS OF FRUIT! WHEREVER THEY GROW!

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Etna ❤ Disgaea ❤ OTA

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as discussed >)

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Karu| Replica | M/M

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