Tied for the world: the slave girl Stefania.
I saw her standing there.
As soon as I entered the slave market, my eyes were fixed on her. There were about twenty female slaves on display in the market that day, and I had to admit that each one was top quality, they were all beautiful, a few of them indeed.
She, on the other hand, displayed a unique aura that was particularly attractive.
Like the other girls, she was completely naked. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and a pair of heavy iron shackles were locked around both feet-I said to myself secretly that those shackles were too heavy for her so slender ankles. Around her neck she wore a black iron collar with a chain hanging from a wooden beam above her head. Because of this chain, she had to stand straight and very humiliated, waiting for a possible buyer to inspect her – more humiliated than the other girls in the market.
She showed other differences compared to the slave girls. While all the other girls were tall and sturdy, she was petite, less than five feet four, with a waist so thin that it looked like a man’s hand could hold it. All the others were eye-catching blondes, while her hair was a glossy chestnut color. In the middle of a pile of tanned breasts and thighs, her skin looked sickly pale. Through the skin, sinuous thin blue thread-like veins could be seen. Her limbs were glossy and white, while the shackles that locked them in place were dark and rough on the surface, providing a stark contrast.
While the other girls presented themselves as best they could to their future owner in the most graceful and sensual way possible, she simply stood quietly in the corner, her eyes fixed on the concrete floor. A few long strands of curly hair fell over her thin shoulders and spread across her chest as if to cover her bare breasts as best they could.
She wasn’t like the other girls, being bought and sold in the slave market had been a common occurrence for those girls. And it seemed new to her, she was the kind of girl who had this painful experience for the first time in her life.
I stopped in front of her. She looked up at me slightly, but quickly went back down. I saw her bare two feet try to back away to avoid me, but the chain on her collar held her firmly in place.
“What’s your name?” I asked, lifting her chin with one finger.
“Stephanie… sir.” Her voice was slightly shaky, but extremely sweet and pleasant. At the same time, she tried to keep her eyes on the ground to avoid my curious gaze. It made her look cute.
“What’s your last name?”
“It doesn’t matter much, sir,” she said, sighing: “A slave girl doesn’t need to have a last name.”
She may have just started out as a slave, but there is no doubt that she fully understands who she is.
I used my fingers to tousle her hair to the side, exposing her breasts and a pair of soft pink nipples fully. Her breasts were small but firm and twitched gently under the touch of my fingers. She couldn’t be more than twenty, I thought.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
I took her breasts in my palm and began to gently caress them. A slight tremor ran through her body, and the chains on her body clanked. A swooning moan escaped her throat, and I felt two pink nipples harden and stand up.
She closed her eyes, obviously terrified, but still enjoying my touching.
I was pleased with her reaction. I thought that if I bought her, I should probably get her nipple pierced.
“Turn around.” I ordered her as I released her nipples.
With the clink of chains, she slowly turned her body, and there were several whip marks on her tiny back. Out of fear, the fingers of her cuffed hands rubbed against each other.
“You’ve just been whipped?”
“Yes, sir. This morning.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, sir. Really.” She sighed, then added in a whisper, “But I guess when a slave girl gets whipped, it’s always her fault, no matter what it is.”
I smiled, she was smart and cute.
I scrutinized both of her hands and lifted her feet to view the soles of her feet. Everything indicated that she had lived a stress-free, comfortable life before the first chains were placed around her neck. Even after days or weeks of being forced to walk barefoot, like all slave girls, her feet were amazingly soft and clean.
“How long have you been a slave, Stephanie?” I asked, turning her around to face me again.
“About two weeks, sir.”
“What did you used to do?”
“Mr. St. Julia’s College. Julia College… sir.”
“What are you studying?”
“It’s studying English…” she raised her head and stared blankly at the sky above the chains and wooden beams, and you could see the tears in her eyes.
“How did you become a slave girl?” I developed a genuine curiosity.
“That’s a long story…” she replied after a brief hesitation.
I circled her naked body, examining her fully once more. The youthful and natural beauty of her petite body, accentuated by the shackles on her, were very exciting to me. There was no permanent branding on her body: just a faded blue seal on her right ass that read: “E & L Slave Row”. But the inscription on her collar reads something else: “Property of Tony Frankla”. “Property of Tony Frankla”.
“Stephanie,” I told her, “I think I’m going to buy you.”
“Will you be kind to me, sir?” She looked up once more, and for the first time met my eyes with both. Her eyes were brown, clear and transparent, and very charming.
“That? Depends on how well you behave. Also, I will keep you always naked and shackled as you are now. And, you will be whipped at least once a week. And, do you like a pair of nipple rings on your nipples?”
“Can I choose?”
“Of course you can’t, you stupid bitchy girl!” I laughed out loud and gently patted her back. Aside from those whip marks, her skin was soft and smooth to the touch.
“Where is your master?”
Before the slave girl could reply, a man’s voice came from behind me: “Good choice, man!
She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”
I turned around and in front of me was a short man, dark and with a small black beard. He smiled kindly, held out his right hand and said, “I’m Tony, isn’t she a real little baby?”
“Oh yes, indeed.” Holding his hand, I expressed my agreement : “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one like her in the market, where did you get it?”
“From the E & L guys. Those pimps! They didn’t know what to do with her. I was there the other day and they had her hanging from the ceiling with her hands tied behind her back and her whole body dangling. They also tied cement blocks to her toes. Man, it looked like they were going to break her arms and destroy her. When I got there, they had a pair of big fucking alligator clips on both of her nipples. They also hooked up wires and one guy tased her pussy and the poor kid was twitching like a fish out of water. Good lord, you’ve never heard a chick scream like that.”
“Jesus! Did they really do that to you?” I asked, turning to the slave girl.
“Yes, sir.” She answered briefly. With remembered horror, her voice was visibly shaky.
“Why are they doing this?” I asked Tony, unable to imagine why the sweet, poor girl had to be tortured so cruelly.
“Then we found out it was a couple of big brothels that wanted to buy her, they wanted her to be submissive before they sold her to Johns’ whorehouse. Damn fools! I told them that would make real crystal look like glass. I also told them to torture her and turn her into a bitch at best, like these.” Tony pointed to the sexy blonde woman chained next to Stephanie.
“Really.” I heartily agree.
“Right! I could tell at first glance that there was something special about this little girl. Top quality material: you know what I mean?
She deserves more special treatment than anyone else.”
“I paid a little extra and brought her back. I trained her myself. It wasn’t hard. She’s such a good girl. Isn’t that right, Heart?”
He turned to the slave girl and began rubbing the back of his hand back and forth over one of her nipples.
“Can I ask why you took the whip to her this morning?”
“Oh! It’s nothing. With these maids you will use the whip once in a while. The purpose is just to, indeed, make them realize who they are.” Tony winked at me and changed the subject, “So you want her?”
“Yes. How much?”
“Right away she’s up for auction. My reserve is eight large.”
“Eight thousand? That’s quite a high reserve, isn’t it?”
Tony winked at me again and said, “Yes. But she’s not like the other slave girls, is she?”
“Also right. Do you have her file with you?”
“Sure.”
I had just begun to read her appraisal paperwork when a loud, boorish voice rang in my ears, “Well, well, well, little bitch! I think we’ll meet again!”
Turning around, I saw a tall, bearded man standing in front of Stephanie. She shrank in terror at his figure, and the naked slave girl seemed to have grown shorter all of a sudden.
“Stefania. Dartwell, right?” The man continued, “Remember my mom, you little bitch?”
She obviously knew him too. Her face was white and her body was visibly shaking. She turned her face and searched from side to side as if seeking help, trying in vain to break her chains and escape from him.
“Mr. Johnson!” Tony was suddenly all smiles, “How are you, Mr. Johnson? You know this girl?”
“Boy, I sure know that little bitch!” The man exclaimed again. His words smelled strongly of beer and tobacco: “She’s one of those bitches working for the new Underground Railroad. She helped some of my slaves escape last year. I’ve been looking for her all over. I don’t know! Here she is, the freedom fighter herself, waiting to be sold in the slave market! Awesome, I love it!”
“For your information, bitch,” the man turned to Stefania, “I’ve caught those bitches one by one, and I’ve taught each one of them a lesson for which they’ll be eternally grateful to you. Your friend, Jennifer Stenestreet. Jennifer Stannister, she’s in my stable. I showed her what a living hell it was. I sold her to the Racers. And let me tell you, the truth is, she didn’t like it one bit. You’re next.”
Johnson suddenly grabbed the naked girl’s nipples with his fingers and twisted and pinched them heavily. Under the extreme pain, poor Stephanie shook her head and screamed.
“Tony,” he growled, “I want the bitch, what’s the price?”
“Mr. Johnson,” Tony asked hesitantly, “you’re not going to kill her right after you buy her, are you?”
“Of course not!” Johnson replied, “Not going to kill her, death would be too cheap for her. I want her to know that life is worse than death, and I want her to set a good example for the other bitches, and she’ll be standing on Broadway with a yoke for a long time. But first, I’ll close the door and whip her to pieces. Take a good look at that whip, little bitch! It’ll be with you for a long time.”
The poor girl glanced in alarm at the whip in Johnson’s hand, fear in her eyes. This was not the usual kind of whip designed specifically for use on a girl’s tender skin. It was made of rawhide, much like the whips used by cowboys to drive cattle, only slightly shorter. This kind of whip would be extremely cruel to use on a girl’s bare naked body.
The Broadway yoke was also an extremely cruel instrument of torture. In addition, it was an extreme humiliation to be naked for all to see in front of thousands of people every day. A girl who is splinted around the neck, wrists, and ankles has her whole weight either on her toes or sitting on the sharp points of the shackles, or her neck is bruised by the high splints. This instrument of torture has been in use for less than three years, but the moans and tears of every girl who has been splinted remain vivid in the memory of all.
The bell rang in the center of the slave market, the auction might start soon, and men flocked to the auction area. I took one more look at the girl I had decided to buy and turned to join the other men.
“Sir…” It was Stephanie’s soft voice.
I turned to her and asked, “Is that for me?”
“Yes, sir,” she looked at me longingly, “are you going to buy me?”
“And then you can escape?”
“No, sir, please…” she said, her voice becoming very fervent, “I promise I will never run away from you, I promise! I’ll be your loyal slave for the rest of my life. I’ll do… anything you want. I can cook, I’m a good dancer – I’ve taken belly dancing lessons, and I can play the fiddle and mandolin for you, so I’ll be very useful. And… with me, you can do what you like, anything. As long as you wish, you can beat me with a whip, you can keep me in shackles as I am now, you can pierce my nipples – please go ahead, torture and torment me in any way you like. But please… please buy me, sir. If you don’t like me anymore, you can sell me again. But now… don’t let that beast touch me now, please?”
Tears rolled down her pink cheeks, it was a request I couldn’t refuse.
I walked over to her and wiped the tears from her face with my thumb. I took her face in my hands and kissed her softly on the lips. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I’ll try to outbid this old Johnson guy. I like you, baby.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The auction began, and in an hour about ten slave girls were sold, some for five or six thousand, some for ten or eleven thousand. One girl with beautiful long legs and ample breasts made her owner fifteen thousand eight hundred dollars.
It was Stephanie’s turn.
She was led to the auction block by the auctioneer’s assistant. The chain on her collar had been replaced with a leash, which was held in the man’s hand. The auctioneer kicked her gently in the back of the knees and Stephanie fell to her knees. They asked her to sit on her heels and the assistant kicked her knees and she spread her legs to expose her pussy.
She was kneeling there, naked and shackled. With her head bowed, her legs spread wide, and her hands still cuffed behind her back, it was a picture of supreme female submission. Few can imagine that only two weeks ago this poor slave girl was sitting in the schoolhouse, the cozy schoolhouse of one of the most prestigious colleges in the area, perhaps writing anti-slavery poetry.
The response to the bids was tepid. Most of the men surrounding the auction block were middle-aged businessmen who would rather have a glamorous blonde than an intellectual woman like Stephanie, as if they thought she would cause them trouble. After the price exceeded ten thousand, it was just Johnson and me. The bidding quickly reached and exceeded twenty thousand, and everyone was surprised.
Johnson was clearly determined to have his chains around Stephanie s neck, and to that end, he bid whatever he could. After I bid twenty-five thousand, he called out twenty-eight thousand, and after a few murmurs around the auction block, it became silent. I could hear the chains clanking on both sides: the girls for sale were sticking their necks out, waiting to see the result. Twenty-eight thousand dollars was a crazy price to pay for a slave girl, even one as good as Stephanie.
“Will you be heard quoting twenty-eight thousand five hundred?” The auctioneer asked me.
“Yes.” I said. It was far beyond what I could easily pay, but I still made up my mind.
“Twenty-nine thousand!” Johnson called out.
I looked over at the girl kneeling naked on the auction block and saw only a pair of expectant eyes.
“Twenty-eight thousand five hundred.” I said to the crowd.
“Thirty thousand!”
“Thirty thousand and five hundred.”
“Thirty-one thousand!”
“Thirty-one thousand five hundred.”
It was quiet for a while. There was no immediate response from Johnson to my new price. In the auction block, Stephanie closed her eyes and bit her lower lip anxiously.
“Is it possible to hear you bid thirty-two thousand dollars?” The auctioneer asked Johnson.
“No,” replied Johnson: “You heard forty thousand.”
The crowd was murmuring. A man standing next to him shouted, “Give him the girl, young man! I’ll sell you my mom for that kind of money.”
Everyone laughed.
I looked at Stephanie with loss and saw again the expectant eyes that had become desperate. I made a quick calculation of my means and was convinced that I had lost her.
“Forty – thousand – sold to this gentleman!” The auctioneer’s voice couldn’t contain his excitement.
More excited was Tony. I’m sure he still can’t believe what’s happening: he’s already made $40,000 off a girl, and buying her back could be a measly four thousand dollars.
I saw him and Johnson talking animatedly in the auction block, patting each other on the shoulder. He helped Johnson drag the poor girl out and he unchained Stefania from her neck and limbs, and Johnson immediately tied her hands tightly behind her back with a long piece of rope. Stephanie tried to struggle, but was easily subdued by the two men. After tying her up, Johnson kicked Stephanie to the ground and whipped her several times with his whip, causing her to scream in pain and beg him on her knees to wind her up. They dragged her into the blacksmith’s workshop behind the auction block. Soon I heard her screams through the wooden doors of the workshop.
I hurt her.
Stephanie’s screams lasted for several minutes. As she was dragged out of the workshop, it looked like, she was in too much pain to walk. She was ordered to kneel in front of the notary’s office before Johnson and Tony went in.
I walked towards her, she was shaking in all parts of her body, covered in sweat. With whimpering shoulders twitching. She was slumped against the wall on her knees, her head buried deep in her chest. The rope was tied around her wrists and several times around her arms, tied so tightly that it strangled into her soft skin. She was still bleeding from the terrible whip marks Johnson’s whip had left on her back and shoulders. I saw that both of her nipples were also bleeding. The nipples had been pierced and a thin chain was attached to the silver nipple rings.
On her right buttock, I found a new ovoid brand: “S.S. Johnson”, and a few other words brutally branded on her back over her right shoulder: “Stephanie Dartwell”. “Stephanie Dartwell, member of the new Underground Railroad movement.”
I can imagine the terrible humiliation these words would bring her when she is exhibited naked in a public place.
“Stephanie,” I comforted her somehow, “I’m sorry.”
“No, sir,” she whimpered, without lifting her head: “you did your best. I knew it was hopeless from the beginning: I ought to have known. He wants me, and, to buy me, he can afford anything. Thank you for trying to help me, sir. You have done me a kindness, and I shall always remember you. I will pray for you till I die.”
“Stephanie,” I tried to persuade her, “the most important thing now is to take care of yourself. Do what you can. Try to please him, flatter him, obey him. Maybe after a while he won’t be too hard on you…”
“It’s no use, sir.” She interrupted me, raising her tear-filled 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 the beast.”
She remained silent, shaking her head.
“Come on, man, still thinking about her?” Johnson came out of his office, “Well, wait a couple years. I don’t want her, you can have the little bitch. That means I clean up her skin and you get the bones.”
He laughed savagely, grabbed the thin chains on Stefania’s nipples and pulled her to her feet, cursing and kicking mercilessly. He turned to me again and said in a slightly softer tone: “Really, man, listen to me, don’t waste your feelings on a slave girl. There are slaves everywhere, why don’t you 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’s right.
I watched Johnson lead Stephanie away from the crowd as he pulled on the chain on her nipple rings, which forced her to walk in a strange way. I circled the slave market for another ten to fifteen minutes, looking at the girls still on exhibit, but saw nothing, heard nothing.
I decided to leave.
I had just come out of the market and saw Stephanie again. She was now spread-eagled and firmly strapped into the van compartment, with fresh whip marks on her breasts and thighs. She was biting her lip, silently enduring extreme pain. A small group of people gathered around.
The van was moving by the time I arrived, but Stephanie still had time to smile ruefully at me and say, “Good-bye, sir. God bless you.”
“Good-bye, Stephanie,” I answered in my heart, “I will pray for you.”
The crowd dispersed, leaving me standing alone, a security guard looking at me curiously. Behind me, the auctioneer of the slave market declared over the loudspeaker.
“Good news, gentlemen! In a few minutes, we’ll be auctioning off two more of today’s girls. Incredibly beautiful, real college girls…”
I ran across the street and kept running.