bidding wars

[toastysocks]

The Slave Auction Meme



❧ 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.
❧ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
❧ 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.

Comments

[captainwatson]

John winces, unable to control the reaction anymore, as he hears the whimpers from the younger women - girls, really - as they're groped and squeezed and licked and slapped. For many this will be their first auction. Or at least, their first ones away from their mother's side, and stripped naked. Many years ago he would have snapped the wrist of any man he saw harassing a vulnerable girl unable to defend herself. That was before. He shouldn't think of before.

Dog, Dog, it rhymes with Bog.

He's as filthy as all of the Masters for being too afraid to stop them. Too worried about losing his tongue or his cock. Or maybe Master thinks he can guard well enough with just one eye.

He wishes he could tell them all 'sorry'. Not that it means anything.

Master is humming and sneering at the merchandise so far. Too skinny. Too fat. Too plain. Too sutty. Reminds him too much of Mistress.

John dares to look up when Master seems interested in the one near the end. It takes John a couple seconds to realise it's a rare, male stock.

"I didn't think you were interested in this style, Elijah." another Master chuckles.

"We're an open-minded society, aren't we George? I think I should try something new after Linda." Master comments, "This one looks like he knows how to make anyone happy, man or woman."

He licks his fingers and then spreads the man's arse-cheeks, inspecting him and giving an impressed whistle before slapping them in approval.

"Two hundred? I know you've got him up for three but, c'mon, you can get me a discount, right?" Master tries to haggle. He is a regular customer. And one of the most powerful men in the city.

He gets what he wants. Master always gets what he wants.

John keeps looking down, though the young man has probably seen and been repulsed by his face already.

[desecrated]

The slave barely flinches at being slapped. There were different sorts. He barely glances at the Master's face out of his peripheral vision. He's pleased. The Slave relaxes. Good.
He keeps his head up in case Master wants to look at his face or inspect his teeth, opening his mouth to accomodate the auctioneer's fingers as he probes around. He doesn't bite. Not this time. He had... at first. Snapped like a young wild thing, but there's no point anymore. If one wants to eat. Dulled eyes look on the guard behind the man. He's allowed to look at his fellows. Just not his betters.
The man has some pretty livid scars, some vain people would say they're ugly and there's a story told in the man's face. Probably a story of worse existence than his own. He should be grateful he's the pretty one. The auctioneer is advertising that the slave can pleasure his master as many times as he pleases without the possible inconvience of a child, and then laughs at his own joke.

The slave can tell ... some of those scars are from Training... some of those scars were from ... not here. A war injury, perhaps. A war they'd lost.
He's aware of the rebellion, the ongoing one, that many are determined to be free of their chains, but - many see him as... comfortable where he is. Between Master's legs, in Master's bed.

He doesn't need to be privy to such information though he could find out if he wanted to. It's not that hard. The owners are all stupid anyway.

The auctioneer slips his greasy fingers out of the slave's mouth and he swallows, hungrily. Even that almost tasted good. Ugh. He really shouldn't have been left for three days. Master will take advantage of it. If he wants him.
He hangs onto his bare thighs with shaking hands, not bothering to cover up. Better not to. Been slapped too many times. The not-good slapping.
Also Master carries a whip at all times. He's not going to be able to sell him for the same price if he likes marking his stock up.
Not that it matters. This... existence of not-personhood.

[captainwatson]

"SOLD! Number 6340 to Sir Elijah Noels!" the auctioneer announces after Master has paid the fee, managing to get a bargain as always.

John is handed the leather straps.

He doesn't need to be told. He reaches and grabs the new slave's wrist, pulling him out of the line and turning him around. He attempts to tie his wrists together behind his back. The collaring ceremony will take place at home. Master always loves to make a fuss about it.

"Don't give me trouble and it will be okay." he whispers. The words of a broken, institutionalised slave.

A rebellion. Ha. What a load of shit.

It would just be asking for a slaughter where they want a war. It's nothing but a fairy tale. Dog knows better. Dog knows to obey.

[desecrated]

The slave acquiesces and faces the girls, all trying not to look at him, scared.
He offers his other wrist almost in an odd, willing way and bows his head. There's a pride in the motion though. Obeying does not mean shattered and broken. Or is he just... pretending he isn't.

He says nothing in response. He won't give trouble. There isn't trouble to give, really. Well. It would be interesting to slip out and run away... if he were sold the first day. If he wasn't so hungry and weak on his feet. It's quite all right.

He doesn't know about fussing about collaring. His last Master had beat his feet and then just handed him over to the auctioning service. He's not getting all of the money from the sale, at least. Small comfort. Odd what a slave finds comfort in.
He goes where he is driven, even if the guard slave knows he is walking oddly.
A bit... gingerly. It gives the appearance of delicacy.
They do hurt, and he's hungry and tired, but - Master doesn't need to know he has damaged merchandise. He wants compliant merchandise and fortunately that's what he is.

[captainwatson]

Someone hands John a brown loincloth that he wraps around the new slave's waist. They strip them completely nude for the customers to inspect, but the women and children on the street don't need to see a naked slave in public away from the auction. He wraps the strap around his own wrist so that he's connected to the new one. He then nudges him forward to move. He's not technically 'holding the leash', merely binding them with the same one. Master is so powerful he doesn't need to hold it by hand.

There is a small party set up at home. Mistress used to throw lovely parties for the neighbours in the vast garden. The guest list has shrunk down to Master's fellow gentlemen friends since she died - the wives don't wish to come anymore than their husbands want them there. The slaves have prepared the drinks and snacks. The oldest one in Master's possession, Figaro, plays the piano.

"Dog, take my new toy to get ready for the ceremony. I want him dressed and prepared in thirty minutes." Elijah orders before going to greet some of his friends.

"Yes, Master."

He tugs at the strap to walk the new slave over to a small shed at the end of the garden. Inside is the smallest living space, with a mattress taking up most of the floor, a sink, a microwave and a toilet which is also the only chair. It's incredibly cramped and uncomfortable - but John knows how lucky he is to get his own room, detached and away from the house, even if the roof sometimes leaks and there's damp.

It's His Room. He's grateful.

"Sit." he tells the new slave, pointing to the toilet; "Use it now if you need to."

[desecrated]

The slave sits, examining his surroundings with curiosity. This is ... scarred slave's quarters. Obviously. He relieves himself briefly, barely anything though. He's really looking for a morsel of anything. Dressed. Dressed for ceremony.

Interesting. Pomp and circumstance.
He notices the toilet is really the chair.
He has nothing to wear. No possessions, never has.
Well... a long time ago maybe.

He won't regale the slave with the story. "Are we... " he swallows, husky. "Are we allowed to eat?"
He wants to know the rules, and ... he's hungry.
He doesn't say it of course. No point in asking just - clarifying rules, not speaking out of turn.
New toy. He barely heard that.
Oh. He'll probably be rented out then - for whatever this is. That's fine. He's not really done that, but - that's what he's for since he's too thin for manual labour.
Though he doubts Master would have rented out his dead wife.
It doesn't matter.
He's not a person, anyway.
He wonders what this level of dressing up is. If at all.

[captainwatson]

John gives the kid a dubious look and then tuts; "Oh I'm sure you'll be fed. The Masters will want to 'train' you. Do as they say and you'll get most of the buffet food."

He's seen the display before, though not here. Mistress would never have allowed such a thing. She knew what kind of man her husband was. She didn't want to have to watch it.

But John can see how hollow the kid is. Probably was starved by previous owner.

He takes a small bag of crisps from his bed. They were a treat from yesterday but he has a few left.

"Don't let Master find out." He offers them to the new slave.

On the wall hangs the outfit intended for the new toy. A short, pink, lacy shift. Practically langerae. Master had meant to get a girl but he didn't mention anything to John so it must still be the plan.

He thinks it will fit. Maybe a bit tight.

[desecrated]

The slave puts the crisps in his mouth, slowly. Trying not to wolf it down, even if that is his instinct to. He notices the costume and winces slightly. He'd really rather wear nothing than that, but - that is not his choice.

He sighs and slips off the brown loincloth, folding the crisp bag over and over and tucking it away, and ... licking the salt off his lips.

He won't tell about the crisps... is the slave not supposed to share? Different households had different rules.

The lingerie doesn't really cover anything or fit properly but he takes a breath and squares his shoulders. "Master wants... all the guests to be pleased too, I suppose," he says, quietly.
He'll comply, of course. Wishes he didn't have to.
Course. Not his choice to make.

[captainwatson]

He nods; "Master will want to show you off. Give them a taste of what they're missing on a daily basis. Make them happy but remember which one is Master. You might be lucky and get to share his bed."

The implications are disturbing. But at least it's warm and better than a damp mattress.

"Do you remember your name?"

[desecrated]

He shrugs. "Yes. Suppose that's something isn't it."
He tugs at the too small lingerie. What's the point in wearing it if it doesn't cover anyway. Remember who is Master.

"At least I-I've done this before. S-sort of, so ..." Mind it was the day after his freedom was signed away but - the man doesn't need to know that.
He pinches his cheeks nervously.
He'll never pass for a woman.

He takes another breath. "Is there anything else?" Rebel. Run away. Kill all of them.

[captainwatson]

"Well, forget it. Because he's going to give you a new one." He says, blunt; "I'm Dog. Creative, I know."

He gets out a small kit that's been left too. Mistress' make-up set. He feels wrong using it but Master insisted. No point letting it go to waste.

"Purse your lips." He pushes out the red lipstick.

[desecrated]

"Mm." Slave knows better, but - says nothing and purses his lips.
He'd once been ... younger and an old bird had ... taught him certain things. To not tell everyone anything. Nothing more than answering the questions he was asked. Not volunteering too much. He wonders what might have happened to her.

But - maybe it's better not to know.
He doesn't like this idea. But then... how good he is, people will have their privates smeared red and that ... might be satisfying.
Maybe.
He knows Dog is not the scarred slave's name.
Not what it used to be.

[captainwatson]

He's never applied make-up before. He tries not to overdo it. Master won't want his toy looking like a clown.

Once John finishes the mascara, he finds a small tube.

"Now...I managed to get a hold of this from the bathroom. I can...prepare you now. If you want. The Masters won't care to do it themselves..."

[desecrated]

He shakes his head. "I'll do it." He grabs the tube gratefully, practically tearing off the lingerie and starting in on preparing himself, rather hurriedly.

He might look a little odd, pink lingerie around his thighs, hand rammed up his arse, working himself open.
"That way... if he asks... it won't be a lie. I did it."
Part of him doesn't want the man to be bothered with it. Not telling him that he wishes it was him instead. His face isn't so bad.

Everyone thinks it is, it's not that bad, up close.
Once he's finished he washes his hands for good measure and presses the tube back. "I-I am grateful for that, thanks."
His lips are rather red and his cheeks blushed.
"Are ... are they ready then?"
The lingerie is pulled up even if it doesn't cover much. He's sort of aroused, trying to will it away.
It itches. He'll try not to scratch.

[captainwatson]

He looks out the door and sees Master standing on the decking, raising a beer with his friends. His words are hard to hear from this distance.

Then he whistles across the field. Dog's signal.

"They're ready." He opens the door; "Quick, go to him. Keep your head up but don't look anyone in the eye. Smile for them, no matter how hard it is sometimes...I'd rather not see you lashed on your first day."

[desecrated]

A firm nod, stiff upper lip, a brief smile, and the pink lingeried slave walks out slowly to join them. He's not exactly showing off, or trying to show off, he only wants to please, and he remembers... well... what the man says. He is headstrong and stupid perhaps, but - not entirely dull. Whatever holes they want to fill. Doesn't matter.

Used to just be Master, maybe one or two others, rarely more. Obviously in this social house the standards aren't that high. At least it's not one of the poor girls... lucky.

The smile stays on. No eyes are met. Must do Master proud, make him believe he's received his money's worth.
Also... do as you're told. Don't ask questions.
Don't ask to be fed, though the buffet table looks delicious and his mouth is watering.

Hopefully. Master will be pleased. Please be pleased, Master, please.

[captainwatson]

The men all wolf-whistle and jeer as the new slave is presented. Master will order him to kneel at his feet.

"What do you think, boys? I need to give this pretty thing a name." Elijah smirks.

"Why not see if he's worth keeping first? That you got your money's?"

"Good idea." He smiles, "Go on then, my pet. Time to impress your Master so I don't send you straight back to the kennels."

There are a few other slaves. Dog is on guard, standing silent at the fence. Figaro keeps up the jaunty tune on the piano. Maddy serves the men their drinks and food - part of her is relieved that Master bought a slave intended to be used for sex, instead of harassing her.

[desecrated]

He moves to Master first, on his knees. Swallowing, asking... permission. He's not allowed to touch without asking permission. "May... Slave serve you, Master?" he turns his palms up, slightly, trying not to let his hands shake. He really hates the formalities of it all. Master wants to be sucked off anyway. Worth keeping. Money's worth. Worth... how best he can satisfy all of them. Clearly.
"May Slave touch ... you?" Master first. Always him first. Dog said not to forget his Master and he won't.

He can please the man, of course he can do that. It's what he's good for.
But he can't do it until he's granted permission to do so.
Suck Master off first, whelp.
Then Master might demand ... him to serve the others. Which he expects.
It's fine. It doesn't matter. Transport doesn't matter.
If Master grants his permission, Slave will loosen the trousers, being discreet about his actions, a bit, but sucking immediately, like he should.

As long as he's fed at some point. It's fine.
The food smells so good.

[captainwatson]

The jeers get louder as they watch Master's new whore get to work.

Dog tries to look away.

Good. The kid won't be trouble. Maybe he even enjoys It?

No. No, don't start thinking like Master.

[desecrated]

He continues, laving at musty-sented flesh, never moving his hands from his lap, not touching himself, not touching Master with his hands at all.
Much discipline has been put into him, but.. then old Master got bored. Said he needed a new whelp to break.
Suck, lick, swallow, suck, lick, lick, suck...in the cadence of an odd... melancholy way of music if he could make his fingers remember how play. It's with his mouth now. Odd that... it's enjoyed so much.
He doesn't care if Master wants to come in his hair or keep fucking his mouth. It doesn't matter.

Just ... a morsel Master, please.
The salty bitter taste isn't that unfamiliar. He'll swallow of course. Master might have the excuse to beat him if he makes a mess.

[captainwatson]

After each successful attempt to make the Masters come, they throw a small piece of chicken in the air for the new pet to try to catch. They all find it very amusing. The new slave gets a humiliating applause for his efforts.

Master Elijah clicks for him to see at his feet and ruffles his pet's hair.

"Well, boys, what do you think? I need a name for this one." He chuckles to his friends.

"I think you should go with something sweet. He's still got that innocent, college boy look to him...Something like Peaches or Sugar."

"Nah, you should go with a proper whore name, like you get with the girls down the red light district. Maybe Satin or Nymph, something like that."

[desecrated]

He hears them debate. There's no point in giving his name, besides it's like giving Master something that is his and his alone and ... besides, it's only going to be rejected anyway.
He stands calmly, still slowly chewing his last piece of chicken. He has no say in what his name is. He almost acts like he's not hearing what they're saying.
Mouth. Slut. Doesn't matter. The other slave is Dog, Figaro is because of the music, and the girl... he doesn't really remember the girl's name. It doesn't matter anyway. She's not being bothered, in fact she looks rather... relieved.

It's fine. This is what he's good for anyway.
Doesn't matter. The chicken is good, at least. He finally swallows, knowing he has no say in the matter. He'll be collared and that will be the end of it. The two and a half-years already null and void.
Another fifteen. IF Master keeps him. Perhaps forever if Master decides.

[captainwatson]

"Hmm...I think maybe just...Lusty!" he chuckles, reaching to pinch his slave's bottom; "Yes, that's perfect. Dog! Get over here!"

Dog hunches over from his post, head bowed.

"Yes, Master?"

"Time for the branding. Get the poker ready." he smirks.

Not all owners practice branding as it lowers the price on resale. But it's tradition at Elijah's house. He always gets his moneys worth if he needs to sell off a slave - and words can be burned over.

[desecrated]

The slave looks up in fear. What?
He bites his lip and puts his head down, clasping his hands together. He's borne beating across the soles of his feet. He can handle this. But ... it's permanent.
His previous Master wanted him to have resale value. He swallows hard, and tries to be as still as possible. Self-control.

Masters might not notice that it scares him anyway, even though his mind is screaming not to.
Branding. He's heard about it, and seen it, but - ... not this. Never this. Master said the only reason he didn't whip him or brand him like he wanted was because he'd be worthless otherwise.
Head down. Head down. Don't look at them. He's not allowed.
Hopefully they don't notice.
Some said it was an Honor. Meant Master wanted to keep you.
Didn't want to get rid of you, truly, unless he had to.
He wonders if there is honor in it. If it's the sigil of Master's house.
He wonders if he'll even want another piece of chicken after his flesh is burned. Maybe he won't be hungry anymore. That would be something then, wouldn't it?

[captainwatson]

Master whistles and Figaro stops playing the piano. He comes over with Weedy, the gardener slave, and takes hold of Sherlock by the arms.

Their faces are blank, emotionless, as they drag him to a wooden post and hold him down.

Dog heats up the poker, waiting until the metal is shining white hot.

"Where, Master?" he asks.

"We want to keep his face pretty, unlike you Dog. Just at the top of his arse will do." Elijah smirks to his buddies.