She was on a waist height table in the middle of an open room and she was kneeling on all fours. It was in an old warehouse with block walls and hopper style windows—two of which were open—they were twenty feet above the floor and ran around the perimeter of the warm space. This area was partitioned off from the rest of the warehouse by a shoddily built wall of plywood, it was painted Machine Room Gray. There was a simple light in a tarnished base hanging from its power cord above her. The cord was not swagged, it was just pushed through a hole in the plaster ceiling that looked to be made by the repeated stabbing of a screwdriver in the hand of a workman with no concern for the quality of his workmanship. Ten years of cob webs billowed about it, the light socket and the cord that is. The heat generated by the incandescent bulb caused the ambient air to rise. This set up a convection current. This is what made the cob webs move. A little micro climate was going on above us. What else in life was there that we didn’t notice, that which physics was carrying on all the time. A pair of gentlemen were walking away from her—the woman on the table on all fours. The taller one had the auction literature that he got upon paying his admission fee rolled up in his hand and he was tapping it in the palm of his other hand. The shorter bull like gentleman had a bottle of soda in his hand. Everybody—it seemed, had something in their hand.
She had a pair of sexy black stiletto heels on her feet and a pink woven nylon dog collar around her neck, and that was all. Looking around the room I noticed that all the women had stiletto heels on their feet. This auction definitely catered to the older gentleman, a guy that looked at Playboy in the seventies? Her tits were small and hung like empty milk bags. Her ancestors were from somewhere that was known for having sunny hot weather. Physics and biology told us this by making her skin oily, soft looking and olive in color. I approached her table and I ran my hand along her back and then slid my palm, feeling the curve of her butt cheek, with my finger tips running in the groove between them, her ass crack. I looked at the brochure, this was her, inventory number 321. At her side I then squeezed her throat slightly. She pulled her head away, but she didn’t look at me. There was an empty water bowl in front of her. I learned it wasn’t a water bowl but that she would use it to pee in throughout the busy day. This was my first such auction.
From behind her I wrapped my fingers around her ankles and was pleased with the fit. She felt good in my grip. I had to push a pair of rusty iron shackles up her calves to do this. I looked at the other girls sitting on the floor in the stalls around the room and noticed that they didn’t have leg-irons on. The salesman who had been watching me came right over, “It’s for insurance reasons” he said, “we don’t want her to fall of the table.”
“Oh!” I said.
The sores and rawness of the skin on her ankles told me she wore the shackles a lot. Well, physics told me that.
I looked at the name on the tag that was attached to her pink dog collar, “ALICE,” I said. The salesman stepped in and said, “You can name her whatever you want when you get her home!” I asked him why she had her mouth taped shout and he told me she was a “Talker”. I told him that at some point I’ll want to look in her mouth, that I intended to use that part of her a lot. We both laughed and he told me that would be fine. He said that the previous owner told them,”You couldn’t fill that hole with three dicks, and believe me I’ve tried!” Incidentally the previous owners name was Dick!
I removed the tape that was covering her mouth and slid a finger in there. It didn’t take much force to get it past her teeth which was good. I held it there a short while and then she started to suck on it—good again I noted. I put two stars next to her picture in the brochure.
I moved her thighs apart and felt her vulva, with my fingers I was able to get a good feel for the size of her clitoris. I love big clitoris’. Hers was a fatty, it was the nose of a proboscis monkey. I spread her butt cheeks and smelled her anus, it was all good, velvety smooth and pleasant, like unsweetened chocolate, number 321 got another star next to her inventory number and picture in the brochure. I guessed her age short of twelve years and I wasn’t trying to flatter anybody. “Hysterectomy?” I asked the salesman. “Yes, a total with a bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy!” he said, “but you can use that mouth and asshole all day long, pussy too, but she’ll probably need hormones for that.” I took a finger cot from a bowl of them marked “Unused” and dipped it in a jar of Vaseline that was also on her table. I don’t think there has been a lid on the jar since it left the filling line at the Vaseline factory in Englewood Cliffs NJ.
I inserted my finger in her anus. Her sphincter readily expanded and accepted it despite the odd feeling of pressure from the outside verses natures design for opening by pressure from the inside. We fooled physics here. She looked back at me but her mane was covering her eyes. Her back relaxed and she moved fore and aft on my finger, slowly, almost imperceptibly she did rock upon my latex clad digit. To this I also made a note: “Very Good!” When I was done with her anus I removed my finger condom and dropped it in the bowl on her table that was labeled “USED”. There were about a hundred of them in it already and it was only 9:15 AM. I wrote the name Alice on my auction literature and made my way over to the stalls that were along the Machine Room Gray. The straw on the floor made them look cozy.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/b7stfl/an_auction_story_tweaked