Big Hammer Tales - Louis - Pt. 03

This story is set in The Big Hammer slave market as presented in the work Mike & Lora's Loan - The Big Hammer. It is recommended you read that first. However, the work is a separate piece.

Disclaimer

All characters are legal adults in the jurisdictions presented, and in any case are 18+.

Consent is paramount! Slavery is bad. Historical and race-based slavery was exceptionally bad. Modern slavery, in all forms is bad and should be condemned.

The concept of "legal slavery" and "self-indenture" is a fictional erotica topic with BDSM themes and should be taken lightly, not as a serious presentation of any desirable future. I'm borrowing the universes well presented on Literotica without consent or knowledge of the prior authors: I beg their indulgence.

Like the last story, this one will also feature "horny juice".

This story contains themes of slavery, drugging/doping, reluctance/non-consent/questionable consent, queer relationships, trans identities, feminization, and more. If that's what you enjoy, then please continue reading :)!

Tales from The Big Hammer - Louis Pt 03

When Louis woke, it took them a moment to remember where they were. What was certain, was that they felt decidedly odd, sort of relaxed in a way that felt a little suffocating. It was like suddenly they couldn't worry about literally anything. And yet they had the suspicion that they should. That they should be very worried about... About.... 'About what?!' their mind faltered.

... and yet there was something else too, some simmering ember bringing a smile to her face. A burning tickle deep inside that made her squirm. 'Yes,' she thought 'I really do have an itch to be scratched...' the muscles of her butt cheeks began to clench as her body tried to stimulate itself... But why couldn't she just use her hands?

"Wake up little lady, it's show time" came the deep-throated gravelly tones of Robert as Slave 1210 began to stir. His hands began to tickle her nipples making the slave giggle in surprise and delight before he pinched hard and twisted, her swollen tender flesh turning white in his iron grip.

"EEEEeeee-ahhhhH!" screamed Slave 1210 as her eyes fired open. The instant she locked her gaze onto Robert's fathomless depths, he released his grip. The pain briefly piercing through her delirium, the floating worry-free feeling quickly returned--though a slight throbbing in her chest remained.

"Trust me slut, you don't want to be sold unconscious. No one wants a 'boomerang' slave..." he explained, his slang lost on her. "You know a boomerang? Always comes back? No one wants a slave they'll have to return for medical reasons."

Slave 1210 nodded dreamily. She supposed that made sense.

"So, you've got a minute here to buck up girlie and show those punters what you can do for 'em! Get yourself a nice price, and maybe you'll end up some rich person's bitch. A cushy role in a pool house or something? Wouldn't that be nice?" he asked in a gentler tone as he stroked her flushed chest. "Someone to pay to perk you up with hormones, maybe give you a nice bouncy chest to play with, hmm?" A smile graced Slave 1210's lips.

"That's right dear, just imagine what life could be like if you entice that special someone out there..." he sighed. "I'm going to untie your hands now. Are you going to be a good girl and touch yourself?" he asked in the tone of a parent addressing a child. Slave 1210 nodded, biting her lip. Despite her situation, the combination of drugs and Robert's expert touches had her worked up again. Releasing her hands, Robert applied a firm grip on one of her wrists and placed her right hand on her left tit. "Stroke, and tickle, right there..." she obliged by running an index finger first underneath, then around her nipple, alternating between stroking its underside and circling it with a feather-light touch.

The impact of the horny juice had caused her chest to swell to unnatural proportions--at least for the male anatomy she'd arrived with. While temporary--for now--the effect was that she had sprouted perky little A-cups, and she was revelling in the sensations of her own touches. Smiling, she nodded as she let her left hand go utterly limp as he slowly wove her wrist around her own genitals, so she could stroke her own rosebud. "Tickle here, slut. Get yourself nice and worked up..." he continued, and she dreamily complied.

In her confused state, the séance had felt like it had taken hours, in reality, it was merely five minutes. A five-minute delay in the auction process wasn't uncommon--many slaves served up surprises--but time was money. Robert truly was an expert slave handler. His ability to focus his attention made them actually feel special, and his clever applications of his available pharmaceutical resources meant that his clearance rate and value-added ratios were the best in the business.

His numbers were why they never tried to promote him.

His pleasures were why he never asked them to.

As he gazed down at the androgynous-looking naked body before him, he smiled in deep satisfaction. A few minutes ago, she was ready to be ambulanced out of here, now she was fingering herself imagining being a sex toy for a rich old geezer. 'It's amazing what we can enjoy once we mute worry...' he mused to himself as Slave 1210 began to make a very girly moan. 'Just like that...'

"Perfect," he said aloud, "that's perfect... You're even looking a little wet back there..." he smiled. "Are you having a nice fantasy about who might buy you?" she nodded a dreamy smile, "Good. Now, just keep that image in your head, and do what the auctioneer asks Ok?" Slave 1210 nodded her delirious grin as he tugged on her chain, signalling her to stand. Removing her hand from where she'd been stroking her hole, she kept the other hand massaging her chest as she heaved deep, lust-filled breaths.

Shouldn't she be worried about something? Wasn't there something that she should be trying to do?

'I should be trying to fetch a good price, just like the man said, right?' she thought to herself, surely that must be what's bothering her! 'What the nice man had told me...' Something about that statement didn't feel quite right, but she couldn't figure out which part and, 'Unf....' besides, she was starting to get pretty worked up. She smiled as she felt the chain tug and walked forward into the bright lights of the auction area, one hand still alternating between her nipples. She waved somewhat listlessly to the crowd, bringing on a chorus of chuckles.

The auctioneers voice boomed loud over the amplified speakers. "Now let's give her a little bit of support ladies, gentlemen, and more! This little flower had a little fainting spell backstage," there were mock 'Aww's' coming from the more sadistic members of the audience, "but you're feeling better now, aren't you Slave 1210?" Only realizing he was talking to her when he thrust the microphone in her face, she opened her mouth to speak, only to hear raucous laughter when all that came out was a wheeze. Coughing, she nodded instead. The auctioneer patted her head as he chuckled, "You'll forgive me the joke, won't you little pet?" She nodded, still slightly dazed. Then turning the microphone away so it wouldn't amplify his next words "no one wants to hear a boy-voice from you, sugar-tits. We're keeping you quiet until your ass is cash."

The words were a bit of a jumble to Slave 1210, so she just nodded and smiled again, her worry drowning in the foggy torrent of her mind. She was rewarded with another head pat, making her glow.

"Well, let's get this show on the road! You all know the drill by now folks! A few poses then it's Op-en Sea-son! Now, PRESENT!" barked the auctioneer and Slave 1210 blinked before he cracked the whip. Flinching from the sound, Slave 1210 dropped instantly to her knees, legs spread, hands behind her head. "Not bad girlie," he whispered away from the microphone, then to the crowd, "A slut for the connoisseur, folks! A girl with a little bit extra! TURN! ALL FOURS!"

Slave 1210 spun instantly on the spot and sprung her arms out forwards. Her earlier training sessions had paid off: they'd breached her addled hindbrain, and she eased into the pose. Leaning forward slowly, and finally tweaking her ass upward, she wiggled it slightly in the air. "Somebody's eager for it! Hah! Look at that winking rosebud!"

[...]

It was at that moment, from her spot in the customers' area, that Clara realized that Burt had been right.

That slut hole was quivering proof that deep down she wanted, needed someone strong to take her deep. 'Well, at this rate, she'll get it...' Clara reflected to herself. She sighed; it pained her to think of her niece down there. 'But is that because I love her? Or am I disappointed she's a natural-born slave?'

'Natural-born slave.' Those had been Burt's words to her as she'd stood looking down at the unconscious form of her sweet Lou-Lou. Naked, unconscious, depilated, and made-up for auction, most people would never have recognized Louis inside that painted whore, but Clara would know her Lou-Lou anywhere, and she'd read where she'd be in the process by now.

With a word from her they would have pulled her from the queue. She was there, in the nick of time. She could have halted it all.

'Natural-born slave.' The words echoed in Clara's mind again. Burt had given Clara his review of Lou-Lous deflowering in a weird mixture of compassionate colleague and consummate professional. 'Look, she needs the money, I'm pretty sure she wants to transition, and, well, I think she wants someone at the other end of the tether... What is it we always tell the fathers?'

"A couple of years in a collar can do wonders for a girl," Clara mumbled to herself. She'd said it to herself, but Burt had heard her from where he sat next to her, a big hand reaching out and giving her a comforting squeeze on her upper arm.

"They sure can." His tone was firm, even, and tinged with warmth. Then, shouting loud enough for the crowd to hear "SHAKE THAT SWEET ASS SLUT!" he ordered. The slave on the auction floor complied, and Clara fought to hold back a tear.

"BEG THEM FOR IT CUNT!" she cried in her own turn, barely keeping her tone coarse and vulgar. She understood all too well what Burt was doing, what she had to do: they had to drive her price up!

[...]

If Slave 1210 had any blood pressure left to spare, she'd have blushed as she realized her hole was indeed flexing at the crowd of onlookers, of... 'Buyers? Of me?' The reality of her situation was starting to seep back into her fogged mind as the auctioneer slapped both of her ass cheeks in turn, the firm youthful nature of Slave 1210's flesh prompting a few impressed sounds from the onlookers.

"KNEEL and SERVE" the auctioneer's only words rang out as Slave 1210 rolled over and sat back on her heels, spread her knees wide, and opened her mouth. Wasting no time the auctioneer unleashed his member and pushed himself deeply into the slave's mouth. "I think we'll open the bidding now..." sighed the auctioneer into the microphone as Slave 1210's mouth spread wide and enveloped the auctioneer's cock.

She still wasn't very present in the moment, but fortunately an animalistic desire, and a broker-no-mercy auctioneer meant she was quickly letting her throat relax. The thrusting and the sound of his wet flesh and the scent of his well-serviced groin overwhelmed her, and she felt herself losing her grip on consciousness. She lost track of the bids, she couldn't understand his words anymore, she just focused on his shimmering cock and pondered at the bush around it, wet with the tears of his other subjects today.

Over and over again, he pistoned into her mouth. Deeper and deeper, he thrusted. Deeper and deeper, she slipped. The sound of the crowd blended into a cacophony of cheers and cries.

Sensing the end of the auction was at hand and seeing as how she was the last of the day, the auctioneer quickened his pace: he loved getting the timing just right. And just as the newbie buyer from the strip club was topping out his budget, he thundered home into Slave 1210's mouth and erupted down her throat.

Her muffled, choking gags were punctuated with a single word.

'SOLD!'

[...]

That word had sent shivers down her spine.

Those very shivers surprised the auctioneer, and he wavered a little on his feet as he came again, still clutched tightly to her face. 'Fuck me, if I'd have known she could do that I'd have just got a much higher price...' For now, though, he patted her head as he released his grip on her. "That's a good little slave, it's all over now..." he cooed, "Your new owner will pick you up from your cage." He snapped in the air.

Robert appeared again.

Wordlessly, he clipped a lead to Slave 1210's collar, tugged her drooling, cock-drunk, and glazed-eyed form to her feet, and cuffed her hands. She offered no resistance, only emptiness. If she'd been sober, she'd probably have passed out in orgasm or shock--most of the girls did their first time. But instead, something was very slowly shifting inside her, and feelings that the drugs were supposed to inhibit were forming behind her glazed expression with the speed of glaciers in January.

She gulped.

Louisa had been terrified of this outcome.

Slave 1210 could barely comprehend it, but she knew something very serious had happened. Her breathing started to quicken. Something very serious indeed. 'Let's see...' she scrunched her face as she struggled to remember. 'I remember getting graded--why was I there? Was I trying to get sold?...' The memories seemed so close, yet so far away.

Her mind still on its vain search for its mental track, she barely registered being returned to the holding area and installed in a solitary cell. Robert sighed in boredom as he re-cuffed her hands in front of her, pushed her down on the bench, shoved a bottle of water at her, spritzed her throat with devoxx antidote and left the slave to her dimmed realizations.

---End of Part 3---