‘And now we come to the final lots in the sale of the
property and possessions of the late Sir Percival Danvers,’ the auctioneer
An expectant hush fell over the
chamber. The auctioneer continued. ‘These are two female chattels entailed to
the estate. One is a ladies maid known
as “Pallas”, and the other is Cynthia Melville, Sir Percival’s former ward, who
is also certified as a virgin…’
Two women confined in display stands
and quite naked except for simple felt slippers, were wheeled forward to the
front of the podium. Their ankles were
cuffed apart to the bases of the stands and their arms were stretched up above
their heads, exposing their bodies to the gaze of the bidders. Posts rising from the back of the stands
supported brackets extending forward over their heads, to which their cuffed
wrists were hooked.
Pallas was brown skinned and Cynthia
was a pale cream. A little wooden sign
had been hung on a light chain about her hips just above her pubic curls, with
a small unnecessary arrow pointing downwards.
It read: VIRGIN
Both women squirmed and screwed up
their eyes in shame and fear, but there was no escape from their fate. Just a month ago, their lives had been so
* * *
Cynthia was in her withdrawing room, happily wielding a
Pallas was bent over a padded trestle
before her with her skirts rolled up, exposing her brown buttocks. She had done nothing wrong, but Cynthia
believed that regular chastisement always made her that bit more attentive. Besides, her full fleshy dark cheeks rippled
so prettily when they were beaten.
Pallas gave little squeaks and whimpers as the paddle smacked into her
behind, but being a good girl she held her position.
Cynthia paused for a moment to feel
the hot, soft smooth flesh of her maid’s buttocks. Then she slipped her fingers down between her
thighs feel the moist pout of her pussy lips.
The girl could not help get excited by strict handling, and Cynthia
would benefit from her passion later in bed when Pallas lay between her thighs
and used her tongue to pleasure her. A
passionate maid was an excellent means of preserving an eligible young woman’s
virginity until a suitable husband could be found for her. Next year, her guardian had said. He had some prospects in mind.
And then there was a knock at the
door, and Sir Percy himself entered.
Cynthia was surprised. He usually
returned from his club much later than this.
Then she frowned she saw his face was grave.
‘Ah… there you are, my dear,’ he
said. His voice was flat, not animated
with its usual boisterous energy. ‘I
thought I should just… look in on you, before you retired…’
He shambled into the room and smiled
wanly at Pallas’s upturned bare bottom and patted it absentmindedly. ‘Been
having some fun, I see… good, good… pretty thing, isn’t she?’
‘You don’t look well, Uncle,’ Cynthia
said. ‘Is there anything I can do to
Sir Percy straightened up. ‘No, My Dear, there’s nothing you can
do. I’ve just made a bit of a mess of
things and now I’ve got to do what’s right.
I’m sorry, but there may be some changes to come around here…’
And with that, he walked stiffly out
of the room, leaving Cynthia blinking in puzzlement.
It was a few minutes later when she
heard the crack of the pistol shot from his study…
* * *
A week later, Cynthia, dressed in mourning black, sat in
the office of Mr Mears, Sir Percy’s solicitor.
He had been courteous, professional and blunt.
‘I’m afraid that Sir Percy had made
some bad investments recently.
Foolishly, he tried to recoup his losses at the gaming table. Instead, he lost everything he had wagered
and more besides. The Curzon Street
house, its contents and all his possessions will have to be sold to repay his
Cynthia started, feeling a cold hand
clench her heart. That had been her only
home for years since her parents had died.
‘But where will I go? What’s to
become of me?’
‘You will be going nowhere, I’m
afraid, Miss Melville,’ Mears said gravely. ‘You see you and your maid, both
being under twenty-one and without any other family to claim you, are
officially classified as Sir Percy’s chattels.
It is my duty to hand you over to the care of Bracewells the
Auctioneers, who will be handling the sale, to assess you for your reserve
value, along with all other goods.’
Even as Cynthia blinked in disbelief
at his words, he continued.
‘Those clothes, I assume Sir Percy
bought them for you? She nodded
dumbly. ‘Then they are also part of the
estate and must be sold. Perhaps if you
would undress now? Don’t make this any
harder on yourself than necessary…’
Of course, she did just the opposite
and Mr Mears had to call his secretary and the porter to help strip her before
she was handed over to Bracewells.
And Bracewells assessed her and Pallas
very professionally, like any other pieces of property. When Cynthia’s virginity was confirmed, it
increased her reserve price considerably.
And so she was put in a chastity belt and then in a cage with Pallas to
await the day of their sale…
* * *
Now Cynthia watched in disbelief as the auctioneer
circled around Pallas’s display stand.
He had a cane with a serrated tip that he used to point out her
‘And here we have a fine, lithe, young
African female, trained as a ladies maid, perfect both for work and pleasure…’
Pallas’s glossy woolly black hair was
tied back in a ponytail from her rounded forehead. She had clear deep brown eyes under dark
brows, a straight nose with moderately flared nostrils and full lips. Her broad shoulders carried jutting rounded
breasts capped by large purple/brown nipples.
The auctioneer spun the slave frame around so the bidders could see how
her slim waist accentuated her hips and her fleshy deep brown buttocks.
‘Look at that magnificent posterior!’
the auctioneer exclaimed. ‘Sure to be
beaten for pleasure as often as the discipline…’
Pallas’s legs were lean but sturdy and
she had good calves. Tight black pubic curls divided about a deep cleft with
pouting inner lips.
All that had belonged to Cynthia. Now she did not even belong to herself…
The auctioneer had used his cane
artfully as he spoke, prodding and stroking and tickling, stimulating Pallas
into an unwilling response. Like
Cynthia, she had been deprived of sex for a week, kept in a chastity belt and
prevented from touching herself.
Now Pallas’s lovely big nipples stood
up hard and glossy while her love mouth was swelling and glistening with
moisture. The hood of her clitoris was
becoming noticeably prominent…
She would never disgrace herself like
that in public, Cynthia thought. She would
not let herself. She would be cool and
aloof: a lady to the end…
‘What am I bid?’ he asked, sawing his
cane through the brown cleft and making Pallas sob and whimper.
‘Ten guineas… fifteen… twenty…
twenty-five…’ the calls came back
The auctioneer’s cane delivered a
subtle jab and flick to Pallas’s clitoris.
Her eyes bulged and her hips jerked and she sobbed as a spray of juices
spurted out of her. She had climaxed in
front of a room full of strangers!
‘Forty-five guineas,’ said a firm
voice from the back of the room.
‘Sold for forty-five guineas to Mr
Fairfield of the Birch Club!’ the auctioneer declared triumphantly, giving
Pallas’s buttocks a sharp slap to close the deal.
Was that what Pallas was really worth,
Cynthia wondered dizzily? And then she felt
a brief absurd swell of determination: she must sell for more than that!
Pallas’s frame was wheeled off the
podium. Now it was Cynthia’s turn. She felt all eyes turning towards her and
feared she was going to be sick. Then
she reminded herself she would remain proud.
‘The last lot of the sale,’ the
auctioneer said. ‘A former young lady of
obvious quality and refinement. Please
note that she is certified to be still a virgin…’
He tapped terrible sign hung about
Cynthia’s hips with the tip of his cane.
Then it began to tickle and tap and prod its way across her body. Despite her resolution, Cynthia began to
flinch and moan and tingle…
Cynthia was a black eyed, honey blonde
with creamy pale skin. She had a narrow,
neat straight nose, a high smooth forehead, arching, sardonic brows and wide,
shapely lips. It was a pretty face that
could easily assume a cool disdainful expression that she did not hesitate to
use to her advantage. Her body was lean
and trim. Full rounded breasts capped
with pale brown nipples (which were now hard and throbbing under the
auctioneer’s ministrations) stood out from her slender chest. She had a tight waist, womanly hips, pale
pink buttocks and a sparse fluffy pubic bush that did little to conceal her
deep cleft vulva.
And by now, to her horror, that cleft
was hot and wet, seeming to pulse in sympathy with her nipples. It had not had Pallas’s tongue to drain it
for so long! All those eyes were
watching her. No, this could not be
happening to her, it must be a nightmare…
‘Who would not wish to own such a
creature?’ The auctioneer asked
rhetorically, while still stirring Cynthia’s cleft. ‘Shall we start the bidding
at fifty guineas?’
‘Sixty… seventy… eighty…’ the bids
Was she worth that much? Of course she was! No, that was horrible! She was not a thing that could be bought and
sold! Except that the law said that she
The auctioneer’s cane rasped across
her clitoris. Her loins exploded and she
did exactly what she had determined not to do, bucking her hips and sprayed
their juices out over her inner thighs and the terrible cane. She had climaxed in front of a room full of
strangers! She was no better than
Pallas! The shock almost made her faint
while her cheeks burned with utter shame.
Distantly she heard the auctioneer’s voice:
‘Sold for one hundred and fifteen
guineas to Mr Smith!’
And her buttocks were slapped, closing