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From: Rachel Gumm <cheapslave@googlemail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Free Market {Rachel Gumm} (M+/F+ bd ds sm toys humil nc ScFi) [5/5]
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Date: Sun, 06 Dec 2009 02:10:06 -0500
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                              Free Market

                   M+/F+ bd ds sm toys humil nc ScFi

(C) 2009 Rachel Gumm.  You may freely distribute this story digitally,
but only in full, crediting me as the author.  Please send feedback
to me at cheapslave@googlemail.com - it makes writing these worthwhile.
My homepage at http://erotica.writerpilot.com/authors/view/rachel-gumm
has all my stories available for download.





Jane stared helplessly at the side of her cage, its metal bars and
the cloth draped over it.  She was packed too tightly to move, and
her whole body ached.  She would have given anything just to be able
to lie down on the floor outside, but she had nothing to give anyway.

Whatever kind of vehicle she was in, some kid of van or lorry, it
had been moving fast for what seemed like forever, violently jerking
her around with each turn and change in speed.  There were no voices
here, just the deafening sound of the engine.

The roaring eased into a low rumbling as it had at every traffic
light so far, but this time was different.  After a few seconds, it
finally turned off, silence returning to her at last.

She fought the urge to shout.  It was highly unlikely that the driver
or his assisant would have forgotten about their cargo, however much
they might have got a kick out of her imagining otherwise.  With
slavery legalised again, there was no point crying for help either.
No one would dare come to her rescue even if they wanted to.  At
best, such an attempt would get any wannabe hero a stern talking to,
and at worst, he would end up a slave himself.  So people played it
safe, and Jane ruled out that line of possible escape.

She listened carefully.  Eventaully, she could make out the rattling
of keys, shortly followed by the opening of the lorry's back padlock
and the almost deafening noise of the whole back section rolling up
overhead.  At last she could hear her captors talking again.

She could feel her cage being let loose of the taut straps that had
held it in place during the journey, then lifted up by the two men
and lowered onto the road.  She just barely managed to lift her head
up off the cage's damp metal floor in time to avoid taking the brunt
of the impact.

She let out an involuntary whimper as the two men hoisted the cage
again.

"Shut up," said one of them, as if talking to a pet dog that couldn't
stop barking.

Jane tried her best to keep quiet, but she started sobbing
uncontrollably again, the tears running down her cheeks and joining
the puddle of hosewater on the cage's floor.

The men put her down again and rang the doorbell.  After a short
while, another man answered.

"So _this_ is the package," she heard him say.  His voice was all
nasal and pinched.  She didn't recognise it.

"Sign here, please," said one of the other men.  Then there was a
brief silence.  "Have a good day, sir."

She heard footsteps walking away, back to the van or lorry or whatever
it was, then the doors opening and closing.  Another momentary
silence.  Her cheeks were wet and cold.  For that matter, the lower
half of her body, which at the moment was her feet, shins, and face,
were _all_ wet.  Her whole body was cold, and ached, and she just
wanted to go home and make herself a hot cocoa and have a bath.

The engine started.

Jane tried to convince herself that it was all some elaborate practical
joke, that any minute now one of her friends woud turn out to be
right next to her, one of her cute guy friends who gave her tips
when she was practicing going down on mannequins on weekends that
suddenly seemed so distant now.  Even the guy she'd gone to in order
to try to remove her belt.  _Anyone_.

She just wanted to be hoisted inside the house, for the cloth draped
over the cage to be pulled off, and for her friends to exclaim
"Surprise!" At this point, she wouldn't even mind.  She'd forgive
them.  She just wanted it to be over.

She heard the other man struggling as he tried to lift the cage.

"Jesus Christ, what've they got in here?" he asked.  The cage's cover
was lifted back, and crouching down to look at her was a middle-aged
man with a goatee.

"Oh!" he exclaimed.  Not disapproving, nor excited, just taken aback.
Whoever he was, he seemed genuinely surprised, as if ordering a real
live slavegirl had slipped his mind.  He looked around the street,
then dropped the cover again.

Maybe he'd bought her online while he was drunk, she realised.  How
embarrassing.  How pathetic that would be, to be owned by someone
who didn't even really want you.

What was she saying?  Being owned, being someone else's property,
was embarrassing enough!  She was _not_ going to start thinking of
herself that way, to just accept what had happened to her, who she'd
become.  It was something that had been forced upon her.  It's not
like it was a choice or anything.

She heard him walk away.  Without meaning to, she started screaming
and hyperventilating all at the same time, which was no small feat.

"Quiet," he said in a casual voice, that same mindset of talking to
a mischevous pet.  "I'm coming back."

Jane briefly wondered if that's how everyone had always talked to
slaves and she'd just never noticed before.  She always tried to
avoid them as best she could, which was pretty easy given that hardly
any masters let their slaves go outside with them, and none of her
friends were rich enough to own any slaves by a long shot.  This was
a complete change of setting for her, a brutal introduction to a
whole new world that had been secretly intermingled with her own all
this time, always just out of view.

The door opened again.  "Listen," said the man, "you're not gonna
try anything funny, are you?  Because I'm fully dressed and you're
not even wearing any shoes.  With those chains on you, you can't
outrun me, plus I'm guessing you're no more thrilled about the
neighbours seeing you than I am.  So if I pop open that lid, can I
trust you to come with me like a good girl?"

_Like a good girl._ No one had talked to her like that since her
father had last admonished her as a child.  She felt the urge to
protest, but thought better of it.  "OK," she said in between sobs,
as calmly as she could.

"Good."

The cage's cover was lifted again, and this time the man unlocked
the padlocks to the lid, and swung it open.  She could see he was
holding a leash.  "Come on, let's make it quick."

Jane carefully arched her back, sat up on her knees, then got to her
feet.  She felt dizzy.

"There's a good girl, come on," said the man.  He clipped the leash
onto her collar.  Jane looked down at the chain dangling from the
man's hand all the way down to her neck, and tentatively touched her
collar.  Sure enough, there was a semicircular ring fixed to it,
like a big, metal letter D.

"Come on, I'm not kidding." The man tugged at the leash, pulling her
towards the door.

It was all Jane could do not to fall over, tripping over the cage.
She tried to step over it, but the chain between her ankles prevented
her from raising either foot more than a few inches up off the floor.

"Here," said the man, "let me help you." He let go of the leash,
letting the chain drape down between her breasts as the handle swung
around her hips, brushing against her chastity belt.  He lifted her
up over the side of the cage and put her back down on the gravel
of the driveway next to it, little pieces of grit sticking to her
naked buttocks and feet.

Great, she thought.  The last of the true gentlemen.

She tried to get back on her feet.

"No," said the man, "stay on the floor.  I think it'd be better that
way, start to teach you your place.  You're clearly new at this.
Here, just follow me." He picked her leash back up and tugged on it
again.

Jane wiped the pieces of grit off her bottom in one swift motion,
then crawled along after him on her knees, trying not to think about
how much the grit now sticking to her knees hurt, and trying not to
wonder if any of his neighbours could see her.

"That's better." The man grinned.  "See?  It's not that difficult."

He led her inside, then into the lounge of what seemed to Jane like
a luxurious house, practically a mansion.  The floor was made of a
finely varnished wood, and the seats looked like expensive leather.

Once they stopped in the middle of the room, the man walked behind
her and lifted her hair up.  Not enough to hurt her, just enough to
look at the back of her neck.  Then he mumbled some numbers as if
trying to memorise them.  "Stay," he said.  No "wait here" or anything
so friendly; evidently he was used to treating people like he was
treating her.  He went back to the front door, and Jane heared several
beeping noises.

When he came back, he looked somewhat relieved.

"Maybe there's been some kind of mistake," he said.  "I didn't order
any more slaves.  I've already got one, see?" He shouted into the
next room.  "Hey, Lanny!"

Jane turned around to see another woman enter the room.  She looked
like she was barely an adult.  She wore a cami top -- the lingerie
kind, not the outer wear kind -- and a microskirt that revealed
almost as much of her chastity belt as it covered.  If it wasn't for
the metal enclosing her vulva, Jane would actually have been able
to glimpse the bottom of her labia peeping out from under the skirt.
Then again, if it weren't for the chastity belt, she'd probably have
been wearing a thong or something to cover herself.  At least, Jane
hoped she would.  With an outfit like that, it was hard to tell what
her master considered the boundaries of decent taste.  The only thing
working towards Lanny's sense of dignity appeared to be the fact
that, apparently unlike Jane, she was allowed to walk upright.

Lanny kept her gaze on the floor, only daring to glance in Jane's
direction for a brief moment.  There was a look in her eyes that
Jane pitied, but it wasn't a look that begged for help.  It was just
a look that meant she was hard done by but there was nothing she
could do about it.  She knew her place.

"I guess that means you can go now, huh?" said the man to Jane.  He
motioned for Lanny to come up to him, which she did.  "I would give
ya some clothes, but I only have _decent_ clothes in men's styles.
Sorry.  No hard feelings, huh?" As he talked, grinning like an idiot
all the while, he started fondling one of Lanny's breasts, as if it
was a perfectly normal thing to do during polite discourse and didn't
warrant mentioning or even looking at her.

Jane must have looked nervous.  She certainly felt it.  She just
looked up at the man.

"No, go ahead," he insisted.  "You can go."

Jane looked at Lanny's eyes.  She kept them cast on the floor, but
glanced up for another brief second.  Jane could have sworn she
looked nervous too.

"You won't chase me?" asked Jane.

"I won't chase you," agreed the man.

"Don't--" said Lenny in a pathetic, pleading tone of voice before
being abruptly cut off by the man pinching her nipple hard.  She
winced, then remained silent.

"Go ahead," insisted the man.

Jane glanced at Lanny, the man, and the door.  She had no idea where
she could go, or how far she could get before someone turned her in.
She didn't even know where she _was_.  She could have been miles
away from her old neighbourhood or just a few streets.  There was
no way she'd make it as far as her home or any of her friends.  For
all she knew, someone else was renting her flat already, her clothes
and posessions sold off by the government to pay the fees of her
captors.  There was always a chance, though, however slim, that
_someone_ nearby might pity her and take her in.  Maybe he'd be nice
to her, keep her hidden away, and she'd only have to give him the
occasional favour.

Yeah, right.

Before she realised what she was doing, Jane was on her feet and
running towards the door, the leash flailing around her groin.  She
didn't look back, but she couldn't hear anything.  She pictured Lanny
and the man with their eyes fixed on her naked buttocks protruding
out from her belt, watching her in amusement.  _His_ amusement, at
least.

She ran towards the door and opened it.  It opened.  She glanced
around the street.  It seemed empty.  She took a deep breath, and
stepped back out onto the driveway, the gravel sticking to the souls
of her feet once more.  Suddenly, her neck seemed to practically
catch fire with all the pain she felt.  She screamed in pain, falling
to the hard floor until she was writhing around in a foetal position,
gravel sticking to her thighs and arms.

The next thing she knew, the man was tugging at her leash, laughing
as he pulled her inside again.  It took all her conscious effort to
follow him.  This time she crawled on her hands and knees less out
of a sense of self preservation by means of doing what she was told
so much as her suspicion that she couldn't concentrate enough to
walk without falling over.

"I can't believe you actually did that." He closed the door again,
and the pain started to subside.  "I didn't think you would actually
go through with it."

"What..." said Jane in between short breaths.  "What just happened?"

"I didn't realise there was anyone left who didn't know.  It's that
collar they gave you.  The house's security system charges it
wirelessly, and it tells it your limits.  I punched your number into
the house's system so it recognises you as the property of your new
master, so it's confined you to his household." He grinned again,
that stupid grin.  "You can't leave."

"So I'm stuck here?" asked Jane.

"Of course!" The man laughed again.  "What, you didn't really think
I was gonna let you go, did you?"

"But you said you already had a slavegirl, that you didn't...  you
know..."

"What?"

It was Jane's turn to look down at the floor, embarrassed.  "_Order_
me."

"Technically, I wasn't lying," said the man.  "I _do_ have a slavegirl.
She's at home right now, though."

"_What?_" Nothing this guy said made any sense.

"This isn't my house.  It's my friend's.  He asked me to stay here
this morning while he was at work, said he was expecting a package.
Didn't tell me what _kind_ of package it was, though." He looked her
up and down as if picturing all the lurid things he wanted to do to
her, and which her new master would no doubt let him.

Jane resisted the urge to hit him.  Guys leering at her were a pet
peeve of hers, although she couldn't remember if that had been before
or after she'd started her job.  She made an effort to keep calm and
not say anything, even if she couldn't quite bring herself to accept
her new role in life.

"They're an interesting thing, slavegirls such as yourself.  I guess
you're new to the whole idea, huh?  Well let me fill you in on a few
facts.  Legally, there's no such thing as raping a slavegirl.  A
slave doesn't have a choice." He looked down at her expectantly.

"You want me to suck you off?" asked Jane.  She knew it was far too
optimistic to ask if he wanted to take her chastity belt off and
outright fuck her brains out.  That would give _her_ some pleasure,
after all, however vile the prospect of him having his way with her
was.

She assumed he'd had his own belt removed.  There were rumours that
pretty much all the rich people did.  The law was just a way of
legalising slavery, of enforcing the poor to become their complete
and utter playthings if only they'd slip up, and boy had she slipped
up.

"Nah, I'm not in the mood," said the man.  That was hard to believe,
watching him kneading the poor girl's breast.  "Try her."

"What?" asked Jane.

"Kiss her," said the man.

Lanny turned around to glance at the man, as if to work out if she
should crawl down to Jane's level or not.  She stayed standing.
"Please," she said to Jane, "just do as he says." She had a thick
accent.

Slowly, tentatively, Jane got back on her feet.  With her arms still
locked behind her back, she walked towards the girl with strides as
big as her ankle's chain would allow -- short, silly footsteps that
would have looked rediculous to any outside observer.

She leaned in to kiss Lanny, then stopped.  "I'm sorry, I can't,"
she said.  "I'm not into girls.  It's creepy."

"That's another thing about slaves," said the man.  "They don't
_have_ any preferences, sexual or otherwise, just like they don't
have anything else.  They do what they're told, and they enjoy the
opportunity to please their masters." He reached into his pocket as
if to grab something.

Jane yelped, a short, loud burst of noise to match the momentary
spark of electricity that had cursed through her neck, just like
before except only there for a split second.

"Remote control," explained the man.  "You've got a lot of learning
to do." He kept fondling Lanny's breasts, now alternating between
the two, as if she was some kind of stress relieving toy.  "Kiss
her."

Jane leaned in again, as slowly as she could to put off the inevitable,
but she didn't back out.  Lanny glanced briefly at her, her eyes
seeming to tell her that she'd get used to it, that it's not that
bad, and as their heads tilted to opposite sides, they wrapped their
tongues around each other's, exploring each other's mouths.

At that moment, someone unlocked the door and swung it open.  Jane
fought the urge to break off the kiss and look around to see who it
was.

"Ah, you're back," said the man, still fondling Lanny's breasts as
she kissed Jane.  Lanny let out a slight moan, a whimper that could
have almost been approval.  Jane dreaded to contemplate whether she
was acting or actually enjoying any of what she was being made to
do.  Was she a lesbian?  Was she content to be a slave?  Was she
just a slut who loved the pleasure of the sensations, circumstances
be damned?  Jane wasn't any of those things, and didn't relish the
thought of becoming any of them.

"Ah, good.  I see my package has arrived." The voice sounded familiar.
"Let's get a good look at her."

Lanny broke off the kiss, wiping a small bead of spit from between
their lips with the back of her hand, and Jane turned around to see
who had bought her, who would be her new master for the rest of her
life.  Who would decide if she would ever get to have another orgasm
again.  Obviously freedom was out of the question, but just the
ability to have regular orgasms might have made it OK.  If it was
someone she could trust, someone she liked.

If only any of her friends could have afforded to buy her.  But they
couldn't.  Even if they hadn't let her go, she would have almost
been happy to service them in any way they wanted.

But no.  She remembered the voice.  She worked out who it was just
in time to turn around and face him, to face the man who'd first
suggested she get her chastity belt removed.

She looked up into his eyes, the middle-aged, balding man in the
smart business suit, repulsive in both his looks and his mannerisms.

He grinned back at her, his breath stinking of God knew what.  "Welcome
home."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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