MasterCaneman
Posts: 3842
Joined: 3/21/2013
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Here you go, UncleBob. Part Three needs some major cleanup, so don't hold you breath. Enjoy...
Kept, Part Two
Caneman 2013
All characters, names, and situations depicted are fictional. Any similarity to persons, names, and institutions
are coincidental and unintended.
A month later, she awoke to the sound of heavy motors coming up the drive. She'd been held at the remote
compound ever since Kinky Guy got bored with her and sold her at the underground auction. He'd kept her
prisoner above the bar for about a week until the next auction was held. She'd heard of them before, but had
discounted it as BS club chatter. There were a fair share of fetish bars in this city, but she'd rarely bothered
going to any of them, simply because they weren't her thing. As such, she had no idea where she was when he
led her through the back door of one.
Inside was a spectacle she did not expect. There were over a hundred people in the darkened room, most male.
The women that she did see were in full leather gear. Kinky Guy made her dress very plainly that night, a simple
black stretch dress and heels, and no makeup or jewelry except for the simple steel rings to keep her ear holes
open. On one he hung a paper tag with the words "FOR SALE" printed on it. The only other "accessories" she
had was a collar and leash, handcuffs and legirons. She didn't get to see much of the bar except as she passed
by the doorway on her way to the basement. It was much different down there. As she'd learn, there were
different types of restraint, ranging from the gentle suggestion of a collar to heavy steel chains and dangerous
animal cages. This place's holding cell fell somewhere between the two. It was a spare room across from where
the kegs were kept, and it reeked of stale beer. An older woman waited outside the door. She was dressed
casually, a bar shirt, jeans, and sneakers, with a cigarette dangling from her lips. "So this is the problem child,
huh? Lemme see her shit before she goes in," she said, looking Mary up and down with a practiced eye.
"She's of age, signed the right things in the right place. Once the sale's final you get your cash. She got any shit
that goes with her?" He nodded.
"There's a mandatory 24 hour hold after the sale. She's allowed one bag, no more than ten pounds, that
includes her purse. Unhook her unless the hardware is included," she said, meaning the restraints on Mary's
wrists and ankles. Kinky Guy nodded and removed them as the woman readied a plastic cable-tie. Once he had it
all off, the woman said to her, "Strip and turn around. The policy here is: you can take the escape clause right up
until your turn on the block. If you do, you come back here and get to explain to your friend here why and make
arrangement for whatever lead you here. After that, the contract is in force and you're going to be expected to
do whatever the hell your new owner wants. Understand?"
Mary nodded slowly. Kinky Guy had told her he'd done this for a couple other chicks. Some were heavily in
debt, others had to disappear for whatever reason they gave. "Yes. I'll do what I'm told," she said, remembering
what he'd told her to say. After the first night, he'd settled down and had fun with her, everything from tight
rope bondage to cages to whipping. He'd kept her naked and chained in his little dungeon, taking her out after
hours into the main room. She pulled the clingy dress over her head and kicked off her shoes. The woman
bound her wrists and scooped up her things. "Say bye-bye to your old master, unless for some reason you don't
get sold tonight. We're having another one next week, and then it goes on the road again," she said, more to
Kinky Guy than her. Mary looked up at him. He smiled and shrugged. "I'll deposit your cut and put the info in
your bag. I'll drop it off when I pick up my money," he said, turning and walking away.
"Get used to it. Those assholes buy and sell chicks to each other at least once a month. If ya don't like your
owner, wait a couple weeks, chances are pretty good he'll trade you in for a new one," she said without a hint of
sarcasm as she opened the door and led her in. It was large and cool inside. On the far wall were six chain-link
dog cages, like you'd see at the pound. Inside each were two or three naked captives. Most were thin young
men, but two of the cages held women. There were two women in the cage she led her to. The first one looked
like a suburban housewife, bob haircut, and a pudgy build. The other looked a little rougher, lean like a
stripper, string black hair and a few tattoos.
Like her, their wrists were bound with cable-ties and around their necks was a length of chain fastened with
some type of bolt, leaving about two feet swinging free. All of the prisoners were bound the same way, and
some had the neck-chain locked to rings on the wall. On the floor were precut lengths of chain and hardware,
and in a few minutes, Mary was restrained the same way as the others. "The only real rule down here is to keep
quiet. You act up, you get punished. You gotta go, use the bucket. Don't worry about wiping, you'll get a
shower before going on stage. See ya," she said, padlocking the gate shut behind her.
The other prisoners had been quiet while the woman was there. Once she locked the outer door, they resumed
what they were doing earlier. She looked over at the cages where the males were. She could tell they were all
gay, as some went back to going down on their cellmates. She looked at the other women in her cage.
"Uhh...Hi. I'm Mary..." she began. The black-haired woman cut her off "Save it. Whatever your name is now is
gonna change in a couple hours. Whoever buys ya'll probably rename you. They like doing shit like that." As she
did this, she sat down, an awkward maneuver with bound hands, accomplished by first kneeling and then
sagging onto one leg. The other woman just knelt down and settled back on her haunches silently, her eyes to
the ground. "Fuck, you look like you're barely old enough to drive, girl. What the hell are you doing down
here?" she asked.
Mary knelt down like they had before replying, "I'm not sure anymore. I was trying to get away from
something, but now..." Black-hair snorted. "Whatever. All I care about is me getting up on the block before you.
Those fucks always run up the bid on the young ones, and when me and bitches like this one get there, they
make stupid low offers. Fuck. I shoulda asked that bitch for a smoke when she was here. Watch her, she looks
like she don't give a shit about this, but get careless and she'll fuck you up. Ask her. She tried to get buddy-
buddy yesterday when she came in. Found out the hard way, huh?" she laughed as the other woman looked
away. "You here for play or for reals like us?"
Mary told her that she'd signed a contract for five years. She'd keep seventy percent of whatever she was sold
for, and whoever bought her would have to let her go at the end of it. The black-haired woman told her what
that really meant. At first, she'd be bought and sold for high prices, five to ten grand at a time. Once they'd
bought her, there was no limit other than the contract as to how long they could keep her. She'd sold herself to
repay a coke dealer she'd owed and had only two years left on her contract. The other woman had also sold
herself to pay off a debt. "The only problem you find is they know what you did it for, and they don't want to
pay for the whole thing if they don't end up wanting to keep you. So they buy and sell for stupid low prices.
Last time I was sold, I only went for seven hundred bucks! I used to get that per fucking hour!" she snarled.
Over the next few hours, Black-hair told her about the different types of buyers she'd encounter. "You wanna
watch out for the business suit guys. At first you think they're gonna be all mellow with you. Oh no, they tend
to like the weird-ass shit like piss and scat, tape, breath play, shit like that. You wanna work it for the leather
guys. Even if they chain you like a dog, you'll at least get good straight sex outta them. Hope you're bi, 'cause
you might get sold to one of the bitch dommes out there. Gotta really watch them-they'll whore you out in a
heartbeat. I was worked by one for six fucking months. I wasn't a slave, I was a fuck machine for her weirdo
clients after she got done kicking their ass." Upstairs, the thudding drone of the techno music that had been
going nonstop faded and died. "Looks like its gonna be showtime. Good luck."
That was the first and last time Mary would ever see that woman. A short time later, the outer door was
unlocked. Four muscular men, all clad head to toe in leather entered and went to the first cage, where the males
were kept. After taking the docile captives out, they fastened the loose ends to the end locked around another's
throat, forming them into a coffle of six. "The boys always go first at these things," Black-hair whispered.
Shortly after they went upstairs, there was a clamor and then she could hear a muffled voice speaking rapidly.
"They even have a real auctioneer here. Most times, it's just the MC doing it. The process was repeated over and
over until all the males were gone. Mary's heart was in her throat when the door opened again. Impassive, the
four men ushered all the women into a line and they walked upstairs and into a narrow passageway "Watch your
step," one said to her. She had been placed second in line behind a surly-looking redhead. Once they were
behind what she assumed to be a stage, one of the men whispered to her, "If you want to invoke escape clause,
now is the time. Do you want to go ahead?"
Mary thought about that as she rolled over and pulled her blanket tighter around her. Her cell was in the
basement of one of the smaller houses on the Sanctuary's compound, where she'd ended up after being sold.
Her new owner was a senior member of the group and he intended to use her for one of his resort homes.
Something had happened to her when she walked up the three steps onto the platform and under the hot
lights. It wasn't magical, no, but something primal within her allowed her to release the tension she'd been
under for so long. The auctioneer reeled off her stats before starting the spiel, but she couldn't remember it, as
she could feel her pulse roaring in her head. She could feel her crotch getting moist and her legs getting weak as
she heard him call out, "....Twenty-one thousand five, do I hear twenty-six? Twenty-six? Come on, folks, we've
got us a nice sweet young thing here ready for training and pleasure! Twenty-six? Twenty-six? Going, going, last
chance! Gone! Sold! To bidder number forty-one! Thank you, and make your arrangements in the rear! Next up,
we have a...."
The man who'd led her out on stage brought her back down and around the front. She could see that the crowd
was everything from well-dressed society types to leather-clad bikers with everything in between. Men and
women alike were focused on the next slave on stage as she was brought to the rear of the room. There was a
desk set up with a computer and a cash register. The raven-haired woman was standing facing the wall while a
couple dressed in leather counted out hundred-dollar bills. The man stood her next to her and told her to
remian quiet.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her new owner. He was older, in his sixties, tall, fit, and trim. She'd always
liked a man in a good suit and he wore it well. The leather-clad couple took Raven-hair and led her away,
forcing her to break eye contact. A moment later, a hand took her by the arm. It wasn't her new owner, rather,
it was one of the keepers. "Come this way. We'll get those off your wrists and into something more
comfortable for transport. He led her to a small room off to the side, where there was another female keeper
standing guard over a pile of boxes, bags, and luggage. She didn't speak, just took her number and retrieved
her things. "Get dressed," was all she said.
She cautiously looked into her bag. Inside was her jacket, top, underwear, jeans, boots, and high heels. There
were some items missing, but she figured it wasn't a good idea to complain. The woman sighed and added, "I'd
go with the pants and shirt, hon. The transporters have been known to play with the cargo before it makes it to
its destination. Boots, too, it's been cold." Mary took her advice and got dressed. When she was done, the
woman opened up a canvas bag and took out a pair of handcuffs, shackles, and a waist chain. Until she'd fallen
in with these people, she didn't know what these were called. Now she was intimately familiar with them all.
A few minutes later, the woman pointed her through a side door and into a chilly back hall. Mary's hands were
chained in front, with the waist chain around her and a length descending to the shackles. Restrictive, but not
too uncomfortable, and she carried her bag awkwardly as she shuffled forward. Yet another black-shirted
keeper, this one a much younger woman with numerous piercings and an extreme hairdo, took her by the arm
and down to the covered loading dock.
The bus that waited looked like the ones the limousine companies used for large groups. On the outside. Inside,
behind heavily tinted windows, there was a caged area with bench seats. On one side were males, the other
females. All of them were wearing identical canvas hoods with a medical-type collar fastened to a hardpoint on
the side. "Sit down, shut up, and enjoy the ride. If there's an emergency, stay calm, one of us will get you out,"
the girl said, as she pulled the hood over Mary's head.
The ride was surprisingly quiet, with the occasional request from one of the other captives to use the john.
There were no threats or the sound of impacts, just the occasional jingle of chains, and the hum of the motor as
they drove on. All she had to do was think about what her future might hold...
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Kept, Part Two - 
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