The front of the line

Finally, she was at the front of the line. Now she could see. She could see into the big room where they were holding the auction, could see up to the platform, could see the auctioneer, could see the big video screens, could see the audience.

It was an ingenious system. Not surprising. Everything they did at the facility was well thought through, professional, high quality.

The auction itself was taking place on a raised platform at the front of the room. Nikki watched the slave in front of her be hustled up the four stairs to the platform. A youngish boy, his pale skin glistening with sweat as the two trainers stood on each side of him. The auctioneer stood at the center of the platform waiting. He was a large man. Nikki had never seen him before. That added to the mystery of it, she supposed.

The auctioneer was dressed completely in black. His bald head shone in the spot lights trained on him. He wore an oiled leather bib-apron covering the whole front of his outfit – protection, she supposed against any bodily fluids; blood, sweat, cum, whatever might land on him. Nikki could see the muscles of his arms rippling. He turned briefly away from her and she realized that he had a utility belt with a variety of “tools”. They included paddles, whips, dildos, prods, cuffs; she wasn’t even sure what all of them were.

But not everybody from the audience could see everything that was happening on the platform. The audience was large – at least 500 people, the rows of seats filling the huge space. So there were video screens. Gigantic displays at each side of the platform, showing various views. Right now there was one camera focused on the face of the slave being led up to the center of the platform. Another displaying his erection in HUGE proportions, another showing the round curve of his ass, jiggling as he walked.

Nikki was stunned. Somehow the images of the boy, or rather the pieces of him, made him even more of an object than the fact that he was being auctioned. Seeing him broken into pieces, separated into his component parts, made her feel that they were implying that he was only the sum of those parts, not a whole person at all. She imagined herself being broken into pieces herself. Scary.

The two trainers moved the slave into position at the center of the platform and pushed him to his knees. Nikki watched, holding her breath, as they attached him. His knees fit into grooves on the floor, his hands were balanced on blocks of wood, and the trainers attached his chin with a strap hanging from a hook in the ceiling. It held his head up, but left him looking like he was bandaged, as if he was undergoing some kind of an old fashioned toothache remedy.

Nikki could see his face on one of the video screens. He was blinking in the light; it wasn’t clear whether he was trying to blink back tears. He looked stunned, but there was something incredibly beautiful about his face. It reached deep into Nikki and touched her heart. She could feel his submission, his acceptance of this. She could see his choice. He was this. He was a slave. He belonged at this auction. This was somehow right for him. It was how it was supposed to be.

Nikki sighed. If only she would be so beautiful. So accepting. So right.

The auctioneer pulled a huge wooden lever on the edge of the raised platform and Nikki squinted to see what he was doing. It looked like some kind of a lock or a release mechanism. What was he going to do?

Ohhhh! It was a turntable. He had unlocked it. And now he could spin the slave in a circle.

“Beautiful young boy. Eager, willing, ready, for his first real home. Who is going to take him home tonight?”

The auctioneer chuckled as he spun the boy around. Now his ass was to the audience, his face inches from the black apron of the auctioneer.

“Receptive mouth.”

Nikki watched as the auctioneer selected a huge rigid phallus. It was lifelike, with a bulbous head and a rough surface.

The auctioneer spoke softly but firmly to the boy, “Open.” One simple word.

Even though the boy’s ass was to the audience, they could all see his face projected on the screen. Nikki saw it too. Saw him hear the word, understand it, and struggle to obey. The strap under his chin made it difficult, but he pushed his head back, his neck straining, the vein on the side standing out.

The boy opened his mouth, and the auctioneer pushed the object deep into it. He took it all the way in. With his head tilted back like this, his throat was perfectly aligned and the phallus was able to slide right down, filling him, choking him, cutting off his breath. Nikki could see the desperation in his face, but also the acceptance. He was accepting this penetration, accepting it like a benediction, like a sacrament. He was taking the body of the system into his mouth.

Nikki moaned softly to herself. This was powerful. He was so submissive, so beautiful. And soon it would be her up there. She was next. Next! The thought traveled through her like an electric current. Nothing she could do about it now. She was going to be objectified and sold, just like this boy. She swallowed hard.

The auctioneer was had one hand on the boy’s forehead and he was now pulling the phallus out of the boy’s throat. Nikki watched it slide out.

“See how lovely. How easily he takes it.”

The auctioneer was right. It was lovely.

But he wasn’t done.

Nikki watched as the auctioneer reached into the pocket of his apron for a moment and lifted his right hand out, shining with some kind of oil. He moved his foot on some kind of pedal and spun the turntable around. Again, so clever. His right hand slick with lube, his left holding the dildo, he didn’t have any way to spin the table if he didn’t use his foot.

The boy’s ass was now right in front of the auctioneer, his face towards the audience. The auctioneer reached down between the boy’s buttocks, and on the big screen Nikki could see him slide two fingers in, and then slide them deeper.

The boy moaned. The moan, soft and plaintive, but also full of submission and pleasure, was amplified a hundred times and was audible to everyone in the audience. How humiliating. Nikki felt her eyes close as she was filled with empathy for the boy. How exposed! His emotions, his sensations, his feelings, as much on display as his body.

Now the phallus was being slid in. Nikki saw, on the huge screen, as the head of the plastic cock pushed through the ring of muscle in the boys anus. And she watched as the auctioneer reached down with his now empty left hand and wrapped his meaty fingers around the boy’s cock. She could feel it herself. Penetration and stimulation. So much arousal!

She could see it, too. The boy’s cock was rigid. Red. Engorged. It looked painful. He was gasping now. Little short intakes of breath, “hunh, hunh, hunh, hunh.” In the rhythm of the auctioneer’s hands.

“Don’t you dare cum on me, boy. Breathe deep and hold it.” Nikki could hear a twinge of amusement in the auctioneer’s voice, but also a clear sense of command.

The boy’s stomach and ribs expanded as he filled his diaphragm with air. She could hear him blowing out through pursed lips. Centering himself using the techniques they had been taught. The same techniques that help during a beating, Nikki thought.

“Good control. He’s a good boy.” The auctioneer was going on, seemingly oblivious to the boy’s plight.

Then he slid the phallus out of the boy’s ass with a “plop” and stopped working his cock.

The bidding was going to start now. Nikki could feel it.

“Do I have 80 thousand for this fresh boy?”

Nikki couldn’t really see the audience, but she saw the auctioneer, pointing to the right hand side of the room.

“80 thousand in the front. Do I have 85?”

The boy looked stunned. He was blinking out into the audience. Nikki supposed he couldn’t really see individuals, she couldn’t. But the boy was obviously trying to look.

The bidding came fast and furious. The auctioneer started to jump up in bigger increments and then when it slowed, he made the increments smaller again.

Whatever discomfort the boy was feeling was unimportant. Nobody was really even looking at him at this point. He was just the object. Not a human being.

Finally, the auctioneer asked for “385 thousand, do I have 385?”

There was silence. He had gone too far. “384?” No?

He worked his way back down to the last bid, $381,000. With no takers.

“Sold to the lady in the back for $381,000!” His voice rang out.

Ohhhh! It was over. Two trainers came up on stage to hustle the boy out. It was over and she was next.

She was next! Her knees felt weak….