Pam-Ann (19 page)

The male store manager at
Tiffany’s
almost fell over himself in his rush to reach the
door when an almost naked slave girl,
with the
store’s logo and her name tattooed on the skin of her bare left
breast, opened it
and Persephone stepped inside. Clearly she
was a frequent customer. Within seconds of establishing the reason
for her visit, the manager snapped his fingers and a slave took
away the offending nipple clip for adjustment. Persephone browsed
the counter displays. Though the world might appear to be dominated
by men, Pam wondered if wealth and the power it gave had an even
greater influence, as it did in her own.
The
blonde clearly had plenty of both, as she proved by ordering two
solid platinum slave collars and two matching ‘pussy plates’, to
Pam’s surprise, labelled as such by the store. They were identical
to the gold one that was reminding her of her lowly status and
provoking little shivers
between her thighs and in her anus
with every movement.

“’Sephone, darling,” a female
voice called as they left the jeweller’s. A tall, attractive
redhead appeared out of the crowd, leading three leashed slave
girls and accompanied by a woman who was as obviously a bodyguard
as Eve was. “How lovely to see you again so soon. It’s barely three
weeks. Isn’t London keeping you happy any longer?”

“Miranda, how marvellous.”
Persephone’s smile changed to a pout. “I was frightfully bored,
darling, and you know I love flying. So I thought, why not?”

“Then you must come to my place
in the Hamptons. I’m having a little soiree there when the weekend
is over. Girls only, darling.” The redhead gave her a knowing
grin.

“I’d love to but I have to take
the flight back in a couple of days,” the blonde replied. “Boring
business matters, I’m afraid.” She looked at the slave girls
accompanying her friend. “Oh, you’ve had Vulva pierced, and Labia
too! How interesting.”

“It’s only while I’m in town,”
Miranda said. “I’ll take them out again when I leave.”

Pam had also been staring at the
gold rings in the girls’ clitoral hoods. Their leashes were
attached to them and they were not the first she had seen being led
in that fashion, but it was the humiliating names their Mistress
had given them that made her sphincter tighten around the gold
penetrating it. Her change of name had been an accident. Theirs had
been deliberate and degrading. It emphasised her own helplessness
and heightened her desperate desire to escape the horrors of the
awful alternate reality into which the blackness had delivered
her.

“They look pretty,” the redhead
continued, “but I find they get in the way when I’m… you know.” She
gave Persephone a wide smile.

The
blonde
mistress
responded with her feline one. “I do, darling. I
certainly do.” She gestured at the third of Miranda’s slaves. “Is
this one new?”

Miranda moved closer. “I’ve had
her two weeks, and she’s amazing. She’s one of That Kind. You know
how rarely they come up on the open market, and now I know why.”
She glanced around at the people passing and lowered her voice even
more. “The things she can do with her fingers and tongue are simply
incredible.”

Pam eyed the beautiful girl with
greater curiosity. So this was what everyone had mistaken her for.
As tall as her Mistress, the dark brunette looked back, her large,
brown eyes bright. She moved her weight restlessly from one foot to
the other. Like the other two she wore a tightly laced, boned
corset of black satin and a kind of metal bra of gold filigree with
openings to expose her nipples. Her leash was attached to her gold
collar and she was not pierced. She was excited, though. Her bud
stood out from its fleshy covering and her inner thighs gleamed
with moisture.

“She’s a real handful.” Miranda
laughed and glanced at the slave’s erect nipple protruding through
the gold cage enclosing her breasts. “And in more ways than one.
She’s utterly insatiable. I’m trying to train her to only come with
permission but it isn’t easy. Every time I flog her, she comes. I
don’t even have to touch her pussy. I tried chaining her wrists at
night to stop her playing with herself but all she has to do is rub
her thighs together and she gets off. I have to chain her to the
bed with her legs apart to stop her, and cuff her wrists behind her
during the day to keep her hands off. Even then, if she can find
something to rub against she’s away again.” She turned the slave
around. Her arms were crossed behind her and metal bands held each
wrist to rings at either side of the lower edge of her corset. Her
buttocks were wealed, striped in colours varying from carmine to
deep purple and blue. “She adores public humiliation. The first
time I walked her here, she came twice in the space of three
blocks. But we’d better stop talking about her or she’ll be
dripping all over the street. I was about to look in at the
auction. Will you join me?”

With the horrible feeling she
knew exactly what was being sold, Pam trailed the few yards to the
auction house in the wake of the two women. She was right. As they
entered, her nostrils quivered at the odour of sweat and female
arousal. Belly fluttering, she stared into a railed, semi-circular
space facing a stage, upon which was a raised platform. On the
platform was a naked girl. A man standing beside her tapped a
short, thick cane on the girl’s bottom. Pale and trembling, she
turned her back to the crowd, bent over and spread her feet apart.
The pace of the bidding immediately increased.

Pam felt sick. The girl was
being sold like a chattel, like human cattle, the same fate she
would have suffered if Drake had not decreed she should remain on
the airship. Had he really taken a liking to her as everyone seemed
to think? There were girls more beautiful than she amongst the
slaves on the
Empire’s Triumph
. She was attractive and a lot
of men had told her so, but she was nothing special in this world
where even lovelier girls were abundant and commonplace. Drake was
no different to Rick, his words harsh, his manner cold and
unfeeling, yet commanding and insistent, demanding always that he
have his way regardless of what she wanted. Yet was that not what
had attracted her to Rick and helped turn her attraction into love?
There had been times he had treated her more kindly, not many but a
few, and Drake had showed sympathy at times too, proving there were
emotions behind his dispassionate exterior. There were desires
behind it too. Pam remembered his erection straining upright before
her face and his fingers slowly exploring her sex. Her thighs
quivered.

“Let’s go to the viewing pens,”
Miranda said. Her jerk on the leashes of the two slave girls with
the demeaning names made them wince at the stretching of their
delicate hoods as she set off. A slightly less distressing tug on
Pam’s collar had her and her companions also skirting the edge of
the auction room and exiting through a door at one side. The room
beyond was large, divided into sections by wooden partitions and
lit by large windows of frosted glass in one wall. There were bars
across them. In each partitioned area was a cluster of naked
girls.

Heart beating fast Pam read the
sign on the back wall of the first one, ‘Virgins’. A man with a
whip stood nearby, giving the two wealthy women and their slaves
the same appraising look. Several other guards and men who were
obviously potential customers did the same as Miranda and
Persephone walked between the two rows of pens. There were sections
for White, Latina, African and
Asian
s
laves, all filled with a dozen or more nude females whose
faces showed emotions ranging from outright fear to blatant sexual
excitement. Something of their feelings seemed to communicate
itself to Pam, and the anxious tightness in her belly was joined by
a warm glow lower down and an odd prickling over the surface of her
skin, which could only be the last effects of the Venus Dust.

The two mistresses stopped
frequently, comparing and commenting on the girls and occasionally
stepping over the red line painted on the floor at the edge of each
pen to examine one of them more closely. Pam had no difficulty
imagining what would happen to a slave who crossed that same line
without permission. They passed the pen containing a half-dozen
girls in varying stages of pregnancy without stopping but paused at
the next, labelled ‘Milkers’, where the two mistresses giggled
girlishly while they sprayed milk from the mostly large and
heavily-laden teats of the slaves occupying it. They were
interrupted by the big door at the end of the room sliding back and
abandoned their game of squirting milk to see what was
happening.

A loading bay lay beyond the
door, a
steam truck
backed up against it
with its rear doors open. With several men cracking whips and
calling encouragement, about twenty nude girls spilled from the
back of the truck, down its ramp and into the room. Leather smacked
flesh as the girls were whipped into line and marched towards a
side door. Persephone hurried forward, dragging her slaves after
her as she made towards the open door. Over the heads of the girls
being herded into the
room, Pam
thought she glimpsed steel-barred cages,
before a man coiling a whip between his hands blocked her view. His
bulk stopped Persephone in her tracks.

“That’s closed to the
public.”

“Oh, what a pity,” she said.
“I’d really like to see what goes on inside.”

His grin held no humour. “No,
lady, you wouldn’t. Believe me.” He pointed the coiled whip in the
direction from which she had come and made no attempt to disguise
the appraisal he was giving her. She turned back, her cheeks
flushed pink.

Miranda’s new slave
climaxed.

“Oh, there she goes again!” the
redhead said. “Honestly, she’s uncontrollable. When I get her home
I’m going to strap her naughty pussy for embarrassing me.” The
threat only seemed to increase the slave’s breathy moans and the
dribble of juices dripping to
the floor
below her sex and flowing down her quivering thighs.

“I think she’s delicious,
darling,” Persephone said, bright eyes fixed keenly on the slave
and the flush on her cheeks, which Pam had taken for embarrassment,
deepening. “Oh, lord, she’s got me going too! I’ve got to do
something about this.”

The slave girls and their
keepers had vanished but the loading bay door remained open.
Persephone hurried through it, dragging the slaves after her, with
Eve following. She turned right at the end of the loading dock,
where there was a short alley leading to a door that looked as if
it had not been opened in a long time. Persephone handed two
leashes to Eve and scampered down the alley, leading Tania on the
remaining one. She leaned back against the wall.

“Get your head under my skirt,”
she said breathlessly. “Come on, be quick.”

“Ma’am, this isn’t a good idea,”
Eve warned, but she moved closer, placing herself, Milly and Pam
between Persephone and the mouth of the alley.

“She’s right, ’Sephone.” Miranda
had followed them with her slave girls and also moved to shield
her. “It’s a public flogging if you’re caught.”

“Ooh, I know! But I can’t wait.
Oh, yes, Tania! Good girl. Deeper.”

The steam truck chugged past the
alley and Pam saw the driver staring in their direction. Persephone
pulled up her skirt and ground her blonde-crowned pussy harder
against Tania’s mouth. Her miniscule panties were halfway down her
parted thighs, their elastic waist indenting her smooth skin.
Miranda was staring, her cheeks flushing as much as Persephone’s.
Pam watched the redhead unconsciously run her tongue over her full
lips and the jewelled clip standing out on her breast as her nipple
thickened and elongated.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I won’t stay”
her bodyguard said. “This is crazy. I won’t take the risk.” She
turned to leave.

“Stay where you are! And the
rest of you.”

Chapter Nine

Every head but Tania’s swivelled
towards the mouth of the alley. The slave whipped her Mistress’s
panties into place and shot to her feet, quickly wiping a forearm
across her moisture-coated lips. Miranda’s bodyguard scuttled back
to the group as two policemen came towards them, swinging long
nightsticks in their hands.

“Looks like the trucker was
right, Sarge.” The younger of them pushed his broad-crowned cap
further back on his head and surveyed the huddle of women.

“Sure does,” the second cop,
older, craggy-faced and with three stripes on the sleeve of his
brass-buttoned frockcoat, replied. “Public Sapphism. They flogged
two like you in Times Square this morning.” He looked from Miranda
to Persephone, who were both pale and tense. “Against the wall.”
Prods from his nightstick arranged them, the Freewomen, nearest the
alley’s exit, the six slave girls next to them and then the two
bodyguards.

“You’re mistaken, Sergeant. This
isn’t how it looks.” Persephone’s words held none of her usual
faintly bored and mocking tone. A jab of the sergeant’s stick to
her belly cut off anything else she might have been going to
say.

“Save it for the Judge, and it’s
Hankin today, so expect the full hundred, even if it’s your first
offence. If it’s not, I wouldn’t give any odds on you still being
Freewomen by the end of the day.”

Miranda made choking noises.
Persephone’s bright eyes widened and her mouth opened but it was
Miranda who finally managed to suck in a noisy breath and
speak as she took a step towards the
policeman.

“Please, I wasn’t....”

The cop smacked the flat of his
hand upwards onto her bare right breast, knocking its jewelled clip
from the redhead’s nipple. “Shut it, you Sapphic slut. Back against
the wall.”