Stephanie at the slave market

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I saw her standing there.
My eyes were fixed on her the moment I entered the slave market. There were about twenty female slaves
on display that day, and I must admit, each one was top-quality; they were all beautiful, some truly stunning.
But she possessed a unique charm, a special allure.
Like the other girls, she was completely naked. Her handcuffs were behind her back, and
heavy —I thought to myself, those shackles must be too heavy for her tiny ankles.
A black iron collar hung around her neck, its chain dangling from a wooden beam above her head. Because of this chain, she
was forced to stand upright, waiting in utter humiliation for potential buyers to examine her—
more humiliating than the other girls in the market.
She also differed from the other slaves in other ways. All the other girls were tall and sturdy,
but she appeared petite, less than five feet four inches, with a waist so thin it seemed a man could easily encircle it. The others
were all striking blondes with blue eyes, while her hair was a glossy chestnut brown.
Amidst a cluster of tanned breasts and thighs, her skin appeared sickly pale. Through her skin, one could see winding, thin blue
veins . Her limbs were smooth and white, while the shackles binding them were dark and rough, creating a stark
contrast. While
the other girls tried to present themselves to their future masters in the most beautiful and sensual ways, she
simply stood quietly in the corner, her eyes fixed on the concrete floor. A few long curls of hair
cascaded over her thin shoulders and down her chest, as if trying to conceal her bare breasts.
Unlike the other girls, who were routinely bought and sold in the slave market, she
seemed ; she was a girl experiencing this kind of suffering for the first time in her life.
I stopped in front of her. She glanced at me slightly, but quickly lowered her head again. I saw her bare
feet trying to back away from me, but the chains on her collar held her firmly in place.
“What’s your name?” I asked, lifting her chin with a finger.
“Stephanie… sir.” Her voice trembled slightly, but was extremely sweet and melodious. At the same time, she
tried to keep her eyes on the ground to avoid my curious gaze. This made her look quite charming.
“What’s your last name?”
“It doesn’t matter, sir,” she said, sighing, “a slave girl doesn’t need a last
name.”
She may have just started as a slave, but there was no doubt that she fully understood her status.
I brushed her hair aside with my fingers, fully exposing her breasts and a pair of soft, pink nipples
. Her breasts were small and firm, trembling slightly under my touch. I thought she couldn’t be more than twenty
years old .
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
I cupped her breasts in my palms and began to caress them gently. A slight tremor spread through her body, and
the chains binding her jingled. A faint groan escaped her throat, and I felt her two pink
nipples harden and stand erect.
She closed her eyes, clearly terrified, but still enjoyed my caresses.
I was pleased with her reaction. I thought, if I were to buy her, perhaps I should pierce her nipples.
"Turn around," I commanded, releasing her nipples.
With the clanking of the chains, she slowly turned, revealing several whip marks on her small back. Her handcuffed fingers rubbed together in
fear .
"You were just whipped?"
"Yes, sir. This morning."
"Why?"
"I don't know, sir. Really." She sighed, then added softly, "But I
think whenever a slave girl is whipped, it's always her fault, whatever the fault."
I smiled; she was clever and charming.
I carefully examined her hands, then lifted her feet to look at the soles of her feet. Everything indicated that before the first
chain was placed around her neck, she had lived a stress-free, comfortable life. Even
after being forced to walk barefoot for days or weeks, like all slave girls, her feet remained surprisingly soft
and clean.
“How long have you been a slave, Stephanie?” I asked, turning her to face me again.
“About two weeks, sir.”
“What did you do before?”
“A student at St. Julia’s College… sir.”
“What did you study?”
“English…” She looked up, gazing blankly at the sky above the chains and wooden beams, tears
welling in her eyes.
“How did you become a slave?” I was genuinely curious.
“That’s a long story…” she answered after a brief hesitation.
I circled her naked body, examining her thoroughly once more. The youthful and
natural was accentuated by the shackles, which greatly excited me. She
had no permanent branding: only a faded blue stamp on her right buttock that read: “E&L Slave
Company.” But the inscription on her collar belonged to another owner: “Property of Tony Frankella.”
“Stephanie,” I told her, “I think I’m going to buy you.”
“Will you treat me well, sir?” She looked up again, meeting my
eyes . Her eyes were brown, clear, and very captivating.
“Well, that depends on your performance. Besides, I’ll keep you naked and shackled like this all the
time . And you’ll be whipped at least once a week. Also, do you like having nipple
rings on your nipples?”
“Can I choose?”
“Of course not, you stupid little brat!” I laughed, patting her back lightly. Apart from the whip
marks, her skin was soft and smooth, pleasant to the touch.
“Where is your master?”
Before the slave girl could answer, a man’s voice came from behind me: “Good choice, buddy!
She’s a real gem, isn’t she?”
I turned around to see a short, dark-skinned man with a small black mustache. He smiled warmly
, extended his right hand, and said, "I'm Tony. Is she a real little baby?"
"Oh, yes, she is." Shaking his hand, I agreed, "I haven't seen one like her in a long time
. Where did you get her?"
“From those guys at E&L. Those madams! They didn’t know how to use her. The day I went
there , they had her hanging from the ceiling, her hands tied behind her back, her whole body suspended in the air. They even tied cement blocks to
her toes. Good heavens, it looked like they were going to break her arms, completely ruin her.
When , they had a pair of damn alligator clamps on her nipples. They also had an electric wire, and one
of them was shocking her genitals, the poor girl convulsing like a fish out of water. Good heavens, you’ve never heard a girl
scream like that.”
“God! They really did that to you?” I asked, turning to the slave girl.
“Yes, sir,” she answered briefly. Her voice trembled noticeably with the horror of the memory. “Why did they do that?” I asked Tony, unable to imagine why they would torture this sweet , poor girl
so cruelly . “Later I found out it was some big brothels that wanted to buy her. They wanted her to be obedient so they could sell her to Johns’ brothels. Damn idiots! I told them that would turn real crystal into glass. I also told them that torturing her would at most turn her into a bitch, like these.” Tony pointed to the blonde, blue-eyed, sexy woman chained up next to Stephanie . “Really.” I wholeheartedly agreed. “Yes! I could tell at first glance that this little girl was special. Top-quality material: you know what I mean? She deserves more special treatment than others.” “I paid her a little extra and brought her back. I trained her myself. It wasn’t difficult. She’s a good girl . Isn’t she, sweetheart?” He turned to the slave girl and began to rub one of her nipples back and forth with the back of his hand. “Can I ask why you whipped her this morning?” “Oh! Nothing. You have to use the whip on these girls every now and then. The purpose is just to make sure they understand their place.” Tony winked at me and changed the subject: “So you want her?” “Yes. How much?” “She’s going to be auctioned off soon. My starting price is eight large ones.” “Eight thousand is quite a high starting price, isn’t it?” Tony winked at me again and said, “Yes. But she’s not like the other female slaves, is she?” “That’s true. Do you have her documents with you?” “Of course.” I had just started looking at her identification documents when a loud, gruff voice rang in my ears: “Good, good, good, little bitch! I think we’ll meet again!” Turning around, I saw a tall, bearded man standing in front of Stephanie. She shrank into a ball in fear under his figure ; the naked female slave seemed to shrink suddenly. “Stephanie Dartville, isn’t she?” the man continued, “Remember my mother, you little bitch?” She obviously recognized him too. Her face turned pale, and her body trembled noticeably. She turned her head left and right, searching for help, trying in vain to break free of her chains and escape from him. "Mr. Johnson!" Tony suddenly smiled broadly. "How are you, Mr. Johnson? You know this girl ?" "Boy, of course I know this little bitch!" the man shouted again. His words reeked of beer and tobacco: “She’s one of those bitches who work for the new Underground Railroad. Last year she helped some of my slave girls escape. I’ve been looking for her, searching high and low. You know what?! She’s right here, a freedom fighter waiting to be sold in the slave market! Great, I love it! ” “Let me tell you, bitch,” the man turned to Stephanie, “I’ve brought those sluts back one by one, and I’ve taught them all a lesson, for which they’ll thank you forever. Your friend, Jennifer Stannis, she was also locked up in my stable. I showed her what living hell is, and I sold her to the Flying Bike Gang. Let me tell you, she didn’t like it at all. You’re next .” Johnson suddenly grabbed the naked girl’s nipple with his fingers and twisted it hard. In , poor Stephanie shook her head and screamed. “Tony,” he roared, “I want this bitch. What’s the price?” “Mr. Johnson,” Tony hesitated, “you’re not going to kill her right after you buy her, are you? ” “Of course not!” Johnson replied. “I won’t kill her. Death would be too easy for her. I want her to know what it means to wish she were dead. I want her to set a good example for other sluts. She’ll be standing on Broadway . But first, I’ll lock myself in and whip her to pieces. Take a good look at this whip, little bitch! It’ll be with you for a long time.” The poor girl glanced at the whip in Johnson’s hand, her eyes filled with terror. This was n’t the kind of whip specially designed for a girl’s delicate skin. It was made of raw cowhide, much like a cowherd ’s whip, only shorter. Using such a whip on a girl’s naked body would be extremely cruel . The Broadway shackles were also extremely cruel instruments of torture. Furthermore, being was an extreme humiliation. A girl, her neck, wrists, and ankles bound by splints, was either weighed down by her toes, sitting on the sharp edges of the leg irons, or her neck injured by the high splints. This instrument of torture had been in use for less than three years, but the groans and tears of every girl who had been splinted remained vividly etched in everyone's memory. The bell rang in the center of the slave market; the auction was likely about to begin, and men surged towards the auction area. I glanced at the girl I had decided to buy, then turned and joined the other men. "Sir…" came Stephanie's soft voice. I turned to her and asked, "Did you call me?" "Yes, sir," she looked at me pleadingly, "Are you going to buy me?" "Then you can run away." "No, sir, please…" Her voice became very fervent: "I promise I will never run away from you, I promise! I will be your faithful slave for life, I will do whatever you want… anything. I can cook, I dance very well—I've studied belly dancing, I can play the violin and mandolin for you, I will be very useful. And… you can do whatever you like with me, anything. You can whip me, you can shackle me like this, you can pierce my nipples—please, with…"

Torture me however you like. But please… please buy me, sir. If you don't like me anymore
, you can sell me again. But now… now don't let that beast touch me, please…”
Tears streamed down her pink cheeks; it was a request I couldn't refuse.
I went to her and wiped her tears with my thumb. I cupped her face in my hands and gently kissed her
lips. “Don't worry,” I told her, “I tried my best to pay more than that old Johnson. I like
you, baby.”
“Thank you, sir.” "
The auction began, and within an hour, about ten female slaves were sold, some for five or six thousand, others for ten thousand or eleven
thousand . One girl, with beautiful long legs and a full bosom, earned her master fifteen thousand eight hundred.
Then it was Stephanie's turn.
She was led to the auction area by the auctioneer's assistant. The chain on her collar had been replaced with a leather belt, which was held
in the man's hand. The auctioneer gently kicked the back of her knees, and Stephanie knelt down. They made her sit
on their heels, and the assistant kicked her knees again, causing her to spread her legs and expose her genitals.
She knelt there, naked and shackled. Her head was bowed, her legs wide open, her hands still cuffed behind
her back—a truly beautiful picture of female submission. Few could imagine that just two weeks ago, this poor
slave girl was sitting in the comfortable schoolhouse of one of the most prestigious colleges in the region." Perhaps he's still writing
anti-slavery poetry.
The bidding was lukewarm. Most of the men surrounding the auction area were middle-aged businessmen; they preferred a charming
blonde to an intellectual woman like Stephanie, as if she would
cause trouble. After the price exceeded ten thousand, only Johnson and I remained. The bidding quickly reached and surpassed
twenty thousand, much to everyone's surprise.
Johnson was clearly determined to put his chains around Stephanie's neck, and he would bid
anything for that. After I bid twenty-five thousand, he called out twenty-eight thousand, and after a few murmurs around the auction area, it fell
silent. I could hear the chains clanging on both sides: the girls for sale craned their necks, waiting to see the outcome. Twenty-eight thousand was an insane price
for a female slave, even one as outstanding as Stephanie . "Will you listen to your bid of twenty-eight thousand five hundred?" the auctioneer asked me. "Yes," I said. This was far beyond what I could easily afford, but I still made up my mind. "Twenty-nine thousand!" “Johnson shouted. I looked at the girl kneeling naked in the auction area, her eyes filled with expectation. “Twenty-eight thousand five hundred,” I said to the crowd. “Thirty thousand! ” “Thirty thousand five hundred. ” “Thirty-one thousand!” “Thirty-one thousand five hundred.” There was a moment of silence. Johnson didn’t immediately respond to my new bid. In the auction area, Stephanie closed her eyes , anxiously biting her lower lip. “Could you hear you bid thirty-two thousand?” the auctioneer asked Johnson. “No,” Johnson replied, “you heard forty thousand.” The crowd murmured. A man standing nearby shouted, “Give that girl to him, young man! I can sell you my mother for that much money.” Everyone laughed. I looked at Stephanie with disappointment, and saw those eyes that had turned into desperate expectation. I quickly calculated my financial situation and was certain that I had lost her. “Forty-thousand—sold to this gentleman!” The auctioneer's voice was brimming with barely suppressed excitement. Tony was even more excited. I'm sure he still couldn't believe what had happened: he'd already made forty thousand dollars from a girl, and buying her back might only cost him four thousand. I saw him and Johnson talking animatedly in the auction area, patting each other on the shoulder. He helped Johnson drag the poor girl out, and he unchained Stephanie from her neck and limbs. Johnson immediately used a long rope to tightly bind her hands behind her back. Stephanie tried to struggle, but was easily subdued by the two men . After binding her, Johnson kicked Stephanie to the ground and lashed her several times with his whip, causing her to scream in pain and kneel, begging him to spare her. They dragged her into the blacksmith's workshop behind the auction area. Soon, I heard her scream. The sound came from the wooden door of the workshop. I'd ruined her. Stephanie's screams lasted for several minutes. When she was dragged out of the workshop, she looked like she couldn't walk . She was ordered to kneel in front of the notary's office, and then Johnson and Tony went inside. I approached her; she was trembling all over, covered in sweat. Her shoulders trembled with sobs. She knelt against the wall , her head buried deep in her chest. The rope was tied around her wrists and then around her arms several times, so tightly that it dug into her soft skin. The horrible welts from Johnson's whip on her back and shoulders were still bleeding. I saw that both of her nipples were bleeding. The nipples had been pierced, and thin chains were attached to silver nipple rings. On her right buttock, I found a new oval brand: "S.S. Johnson," and several other words were cruelly branded on her back near her right shoulder: "Stephanie." "Dartwell, a member of the new Underground Railroad movement" —I could imagine the terrible humiliation those words would bring her when she was displayed naked in public. "Stephanie," I said, unsure how to comfort her, "I'm sorry." "No, sir," she sobbed, without lifting her head, "you've done your best. I know there was no hope from the start: I should have known. He wanted me, and he'd buy me for whatever price . Thank you for trying to help me, sir. You've done me a favor, and I'll remember you forever. I'll pray for you until I die." "Stephanie," I tried to persuade her, "the most important thing now is to take care of yourself. Try your best Try to please him, flatter him, obey him. Maybe after a while he won't be so hard on you…" "It's no use, sir," she interrupted, lifting her tear-streaked face and shaking her head in despair, " It's no use. He's determined to send me to hell, he'll do anything." "I know this beast." She still shook her head, remaining silent. "Alright, buddy, still thinking about her?" Johnson emerged from his office: "Well, wait a few years . I don't want her anymore, and you can have this little bitch. That is, I'll skin her alive, and you can have the bones."

He laughed savagely, grabbed Stephanie by the thin chain on her nipple, pulled her to her feet, and mercilessly cursed
and kicked her. He turned to me, his tone slightly gentler, and said, “Really, buddy, listen to me, don’t
waste . There are slave girls everywhere, why not go find another one you could buy five for the price you’re paying?
You’ll forget about this little bitch in the blink of an eye.”
Maybe he was right.
I watched Johnson lead Stephanie away from the crowd, his grip on the chain on her nipple ring making her
walk strangely. I wandered around the slave market for another ten to fifteen minutes, looking at the girls still on display, but
saw nothing, heard nothing.
I decided to leave.
I saw Stephanie again just outside the market. Now she was spread-eagled, tightly bound to the wagon,
fresh whip marks on her chest and thighs. She bit her lip, silently enduring extreme pain. A small group of people had gathered
around her .
When I arrived, the wagon had already started moving, but Stephanie still had time to give me a forlorn smile and say, "Goodbye,
sir. God bless you."
"Goodbye, Stephanie," I answered in my heart, "I will pray for you."
The crowd dispersed, leaving me standing there dumbfounded, a security guard watching me curiously. Behind me,
the slave market auctioneer announced over the loudspeaker:
"Good news, gentlemen! In a few minutes we will be auctioning off two more girls today.
Incredibly beautiful, genuine college girls..."
I ran across the road, and kept running.

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