Repo'd Ch. 01-06

A bell rang signaling the beginning of the auction and we were returned to our pens as the bidders entered the auction hall.

"Someday," Nicky sneered as she watched Lori walk away, "I swear to you that I'm going to have my revenge against Lori and I am going to ruin her life every bit as badly as she's ruined mine. She will pay for this and pay dearly."

With almost 150 slaves to sell, the auction progressed slowly. As there were no canners for sale, the mongers started with the cutters and progressed to the higher grades. One by one, the mongers would lead a slave into the auction hall and the bidding would begin. Most of the slaves never returned but those that did looked badly shaken and were immediately locked into small steel shipping cages, similar to the cages used to ship big dogs, labeled with a bill of lading, picked up by a forklift, hauled down to the loading dock, stacked on a truck, and secured in place.

"What's happening?" I asked one of the monger supervisors as a despondent choice female slave was being locked in a one of the dog cages.

"Someone in Africa bought her," the monger said. "She's being exported."

"Exported?" I asked. As I knew that Nicky and I were both export eligible, I wanted all the information on it that I could get.

"Yeah, shipped to Africa," the monger laughed. "White people being shipped as slaves from America to Africa. Now isn't that a kick in the pants."

"Oh my God."

"That truck's headed to the airport where she'll be placed on a plane and shipped as cargo to Africa."

"Cargo?"

"Slaves never fly coach or go through the passenger terminal, the airlines won't allow it because their passengers don't like it. With the nudity and chains, it's all so depressing and unpleasant. So she'll fly the red-eye cargo tonight and she'll be claimed at the cargo terminal in Africa sometime early tomorrow morning."

"It's inhuman."

"Inhuman?" the monger laughed, "She's not human any more. For that matter, neither are you. The moment you got repo'd you became a chattel, just a piece of personal property. As of right now, you're not a woman, you're just a commodity, you're livestock. Slaves have become America's biggest export. It's been a real boost for our economy. The buyer pays a Federal tax of 10% of your purchase price and another 10% as an export fee if you're being exported out of the United States. The Feds are making a killing off this. We send them tens of millions of dollars every month. It's really helping out with the deficit. There's even a local tax of 2%."

"What'll happen to her?"

The monger grinned, "You're about to find out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's about a 90% chance that you'll be in a crate and on that truck right beside her within half an hour. Cute little Asian girls like you always end up on the truck. There's a huge amount of buyers in the orient that'll pay top dollar for some prime Asian pussy like you."

The monger glanced down at my hooch and smiled.

"What will they do with me?"

"You'll probably be skinned but how would I know? After the plane takes off, we lose track of you. You'll become the property of the buyer and he gets to do to you whatever he wants."

"But I'm only a Category II; they can't use me for sex," I protested even though I knew better.

"Sorry to disappoint you but the moment we stack you in the back of that truck, you're subject to the slavery laws of whatever country bought you, U.S. laws on the treatment of slaves no longer apply. So even though they can't use you for sex here, they'll skin you just as soon as you get to Asia. None of the Asian countries prohibit using slaves for sex. As soon as we load you on that truck, you're not even an American any more, you're property of whatever country bought you. Even after your release from slavery, you'll still be a subject of the country of your enslavement and you'll have to apply to immigrate back to the U.S."

"I can't believe this," I muttered, still trying to come to grips with what was about to happen.

"Look on the bright side, when your cute little ass gets shipped off to Asia, we make money, the Feds make money, grandma gets her social security check, grandpa gets his doctor bill paid for, your bank makes a fortune, and the buyer gets your prime pussy. When you get locked into a crate and loaded on that truck, everyone wins; everyone but you that is."

The monger supervisor looked up to see another terrified female choice being lead back from the auction toward a stack of export cages.

"Speak of the devil, there's another export." The supervisor said as he went off to help load the hapless girl. Looking dazed and quivering in fear, the handcuffed and naked choice meekly complied as the mongers stuffed her in the cage, stuck a shipping label on it, and grabbed the cage with the forklift.

"Oh my God!" I mumbled to Nicky as I looked upon the caged slave being loaded on the back of the truck. "What do you think will happen to her?'

"Probably the same thing that's about to happen to us," Nicky said. "We're next."

I shot a quick glance down the line at the other slave pens; they were all empty. We were the only two slaves that had yet to be sold.

A monger opened the pen door and pointed at Nicky, "Your turn cupcake."

Fighting back tears, Nicky turned to me and said, "You know, this is it, this is. . ."

"Don't say it," I interrupted. "Don't even say it. We'll find a way."

The monger handcuffed Nicky.

"Let's go sweetie. It's time for you to go get your ass sold and make us some money," the monger said.

Taking Nicky by her arm, the monger jerked her away, and dragged her toward the auction hall. As much as I wanted to believe my friendship with Nicky would continue, as I watched her go, I knew that it was probably the last time I'd ever see her. Seventy-five months was a long time, a very long time, and by the time it was over, we'd be very different people than we were today. Hell, we probably wouldn't even be on the same continent or of the same nationality. I'd be broke, in a different country, and wouldn't even know where to look for her.

"I love you," I called out but it was too late; Nicky was already in the auction hall.

Suddenly, feeling desperately alone, I missed Nicky already and I fought back the tears. The last thing I wanted was for the mongers to see me cry. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction. The mongers may strip me, bind me, and sell me but I wouldn't let them break me.

The bidding on Nicky took longer than usual, almost ten minutes. It was agonizing knowing that just on the other side of the wall, they were selling Nicky as a slave. I could hear the auctioneer but mostly couldn't understand him. Nevertheless, I heard the words, "one million four" and a couple of minutes later I heard "SOLD" and I cringed as I knew that Nicky was gone.

I would have at least liked to have the opportunity to see if she loved me as well. It seemed as if there might have been a chance at a romance and I felt cheated that I didn't even have the opportunity to find out if Nicky cared for me as much as I loved her. I was really, really, really, looking forward to spending the weekend with Nicky, naked and in bed, talking, cuddling, nibbling, tickling, kissing, and loving. But now she was gone and any chance of a romance as well as my life-long friendship with Nicky was gone with it. I felt frightened, helpless, and alone.

A monger opened the door to my pen and reached in for me, "Game time gorgeous, you're up."

The monger turned me around and snapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists. They didn't take any chances with the criminals, escapees, or the renegades, the category II trouble makers, like me, always went to the auction block in chains.

As we approached the auction hall, I could hear the auctioneer, "Lot number 147, our last offering of the day is a category II, export eligible, 28 year old, prime plus, college educated, Asian-American female in excellent physical health. She's a former high school and college cheerleader and was employed as a fashion model and designer at the time of her repossession. This is a truly stunning and very athletic girl serving a seventy-five month commitment perfect for courtesan, harems, fetish, brothel, concubines, video, modeling, massage, or anything else the buyer desires . . ."

As the auctioneer continued on with my attributes, a sharply dressed woman wearing a name tag identifying her as "Griselda Quinn, Auction Manger" approached, reached out, brushed the hair out of my face, caressed my breasts, and then teased my nipples.

"Hey!" I protested and tried to wriggle away but the monger held me tight.

Ms. Quinn examined the pertness of my nipples and seemed satisfied.

"Keep your head up and smile; buyers bid more on you when you smile," Ms. Quinn said and then looked at the monger. "She's ready."

The monger escorted me onto the stage and positioned me on the auction block, a three foot wide cylindrical pedestal raised about a foot off the ground. As I stepped on it, the pedestal began to rotate slowly. A large video screen behind me, about 20 feet by 30 feet, displayed video of me on the left side and a large map of the world on the right. At the top of the screen was banner letter stating "CURRENT BID $1,150,000.00".

There were folding chair seats for about 200. It looked like the crowd of bidders had been standing room only but many were beginning to leave. Primes like myself were so expensive that the market for them was exclusive. I saw Lori in the back giggling at me sitting next to Edith Wagner. Lori took another photo.

Also in the back, to my shock, I noticed a half dozen of my friends who had apparently come to support me. Delores Clay smiled excitedly and waved at me as if it were a social event while her husband Dennis just stared at my hooch in amazement. The rest of my friends looks taken aback and very concerned. I wondered if they'd seen the pornographic photos of me on the website and if the guys I knew had already downloaded the close-ups of my hooch to their hard drive. Naked, handcuffed, and embarrassed, I looked away.

"Let's get this bidding started." The auctioneer cried out. "Do I hear a million two, one million two hundred thousand . . . "

Helpless, and spinning slowly on a slavery auction block, I tried to be brave but I was scared out of my wits. The next few minutes would decide whether I was to become a porn star or an Asian prostitute. I could be wetbacked and sent to some gulag in Central America or skinned in Africa. I could end up as a concubine or a mailgirl. Almost anything could happen but the only thing that definitely wouldn't occur was that I wasn't going to be set free. No matter what transpired, my life as a slave was about to begin.

"Four hundred," someone bid. The auctioneer looked insulted.

"I'm sorry sir," the auctioneer explained, "the pre-bidding offers on this lot is already at a $1,150,00.00. The next bid would be a million two.

Servitude Merchandisers auction house was one of the few that still featured live auctions. Most slave auctions were conducted entirely online. As slaves cost a lot of money and there were a significant amount of buyers who wanted to see and inspect the merchandise before they bid. Still, most of the bidding on me would be online and, because of this, the auction house opened up the bidding on slaves 24 hours (pre-bidding) before the live bidding began. Therefore, the bidding on me was already up to 1.15 even before I stepped onto the block.

Asia lit up on the map and the current bid changed to $1,200,000.00. A $1,250,000.00 bid came from someone in Africa. South America illuminated on the map and raised my price to 1,300,000.00 while a Middle Eastern bid increased my value to 1,350,000.00.

"Do I hear a million four? A million four? There in the back, a million four, do I hear a fourteen fifty?"

As I rotated back around to face the audience, I could see that Edith Wagner had just bid $1,4000,000.00 on me. Asia lit up on the map with 1.425 million, then Asia again with 1.45 million, Africa with 1.475 and then Asia again with 1.5 million as various Asian and African bidders vied to own me.

"Bidding's at 1.5 do I hear one fifty-five? There in the back, one fifty-five, do I hear a million six?"

Looking in the back, Ms. Wagner had just raised the bid on me to $1,550,000.00.

Africa bid 1.575, before an Asian bidder ran my price up to 1.6. Another Asian bidder came in at $1,625,000.00. Frightened by the ever increasing prospect that I was about to be skinned somewhere in Asia, I desperately scanned the audience for a friendly American face but there were no bidders. Looking back at the map, my bid still belonged to Asia at $1,625,000.00 and I cringed as I imagined what it would be like to spend the next six years of my life on my back, chained to a filthy bed, fucking one man after another nonstop for fourteen hours a day.

"1.6 million and a quarter going once, 1.6 million and a quarter going twice," the auctioneer raised the gavel high.

"A million sixty-five," Ms. Wagner called out.

"A million sixty-five in the back do I hear a million six and three quarters?"

I looked back at the map but it was dark. For a minute the auctioneer called for more bids but there were none. The map was dark and the auction hall was almost empty. Raising the gavel again high, the auctioneer paused for a moment before making the final call.

"A million sixty-five once, a million sixty-five twice," the auctioneer raised the gavel a little higher and looked back at the map but it was still dark. WHAP, the auctioneer banged the gavel. "Sold at $1,650,000.00."

I gave one last quick glance at my friends. Delores was still smiling and waving at me warmly as if she hadn't a clue as to what was happening but the rest of my friends looked horrified and saddened. Denise was crying with her head in her hands, while a couple of the men couldn't look at me at all.

I was now a slave in every way that a woman could be enslaved. I'd been repo'd, stripped, shackled, titled, tattooed, processed, tagged, publicly humiliated, and sold. And now, I even had a mistress. For the next 75 months, I belonged to Edith Wagner. She owned me and would use me as she wished. She could strip me, beat me, cage me, chain me, force me to perform fetishes, work me all hours of the day and night, use me in pornography, resell me to Asian skinners, or even wetback me if she pleased and I'd be helpless to resist to any of it. I was Edith's property.

Feeling frightened, defenseless, and alone, I took a moment for the enormity of my wretched plight to sink in before a monger helped me off the auction block. I needed the help. I'd been spun around so many times that I was dizzy and the shock of actually being sold as a slave was numbing.

Barely able to walk, I was taken to a back room, dressed in a white slave smock, and my steel handcuffs were replaced with the plastic zip-ties as a female monger finished my titling and registration of the sale before checking to see if Ms. Wagner's bank had wired the payment for me. The female monger checked her screen against my sale price and nodded her head yes to the monger holding me.

"Payment just came through, she's ready to ship – Loading area seven."

The barcode on the back of my neck was scanned and a cardstock tag was printed, tied onto a cotton string, and hung around my neck declaring me as "SOLD – PROPERTY OF PRIME SERVITUDE RENTALS AND LEASES, INC. – SALE REGISTRATION NO. 051631-2248-147". I was led out of the office, down the hall, to loading area number seven where a cargo van modified for slave transport was waiting. Stunned and despondent, I walked to the van with my head down and shoulders slumped as if I were walking to the gallows.

"KRISTEN!" A familiar voice yelled.

"NICKY!" I cried out as I looked up to see Nicky already in strapped to a seat in the van. Tears ran down my cheeks as the monger loaded me in the van and strapped me beside Nicky. "Oh my God, I thought I'd lost you."

As we were handcuffed and strapped in, we couldn't hug but Nicky reached her foot across and squeezed my big toe with her toes. I wept uncontrollably with tears of joy. As I looked up, I could see tears streaming down Nicky's face as well.

"I've missed you, I've missed you so much," I sobbed.

"I've missed you too." Nicky smiled; her voice was calm and soothing.

I cried.

"It's going to be alright," Nicky said. "Now that I know we'll be together, it'll be alright. We'll get through this. Together, I know I'll be able to take whatever comes."

I wanted to say something to Nicky but I was too choked up. Strapped to my seat, all I could do is squeeze her foot between my feet and try to regain control of myself. The monger slammed the doors shut, slapped the side of the van twice, and the van pulled away. I felt happy, even elated. Although I was strapped in the back of a van being hauled into slavery, at least I still had Nicky and, at the moment, that was all that mattered.

To be continued with Chapter 7 – Domina.