I was really looking forward to having a night away in Boston with Petronella. And especially dressing up and acting out the part of being her slave.

"No, no, Katrina,. You haven't heard me quite right. You're going as a slave and I'm one too. Other boys and girls are the slave masters."

"We'll be equals for a change," I said provocatively.

"Don't let it go to your head," Pet warned.

"What shall I wear?" I asked, changing direction. "It's not fancy dress I hope?"

"You need not worry about what to wear. You'll be near naked most of the time."

A felt a thrill spread out from my loins. "Oh, it's that sort of party then?"

"I guess you're going to enjoy it Kat. Just for one night I won't be your boss. Don't take too much advantage of the situation though. Remember you'll be back here afterwards and I can make your life exceedingly difficult."

Come Friday afternoon we were both starting to get ready for the night ahead. Pet told me to wear sexy underwear, but then just a track suit and a pair of sneakers. She made my hair up for me as she had done before. Finally she pulled a black dog collar from a drawer and affixed it round my neck. She did the same with a red one round her own neck. "We must keep wearing these all the time until we are on our way back home here," she instructed.

"Why is mine black and yours is red," was the obvious question I asked.

"They have different meanings."

"You know what I'm going to ask next?"

"Black is stands for anal and mouth. Red is unrestricted." She smiled at me. "And yellow, for example, is for cunt only," she said deliberately coarsely. "Do you get it? The colours are what the slave is willing to perform or endure. It is a strict convention of the night and must not be contravened under any circumstances."

"So, I'm not red like you because..."

"You haven't a cunt ducky," chimed Pet, finishing the sentence for me.

"This is going to be some party."

"You've got to believe it."

"Tell me more please." I was really intrigued.

"In the car when we're on our way to Boston I'll tell you all you need to know. Right now I have to pack an overnight bag for both of us."

"Where are we spending the night, Petronella? "

"At this moment, I haven't the foggiest idea. The organisers will have us booked into a hotel. Now, no more questions. Go and make yourself useful in the kitchen."

Later I heard Pet answer a call on her mobile. I wondered if it had something to do with the party. I was dead scared it might have been cancelled. Pet caught up with me. "That was Mom. I have a sneaking feeling she's taken the bait. She wants to come by on Sunday. Dad's away again for some reason. She said she'll be lonely. That's a first; most unlike her."

I felt a little thrill snake through me. The prospect of seducing Pet's Mom was quite something to look forward to.

We left for Boston in good time and, as she had promised, Pet told me the rules of the party we were heading for. In no time she had my eyes popping out of my head and my stomach churning with both excitement and trepidation.

The theme was 'Slave Night' as I already knew; but with role reversal. Ten to twelve white women were the slaves and any number of black men and women were the potential buyers. It was a real auction for real money, one buyer per woman, and the right of ownership for just four hours - eight pm to midnight. A buyer could purchase one woman only, and then sell her services to the other men and women in the room. Two huge rooms actually, equipped in total with ten beds and ten sofas; a pair for each buyer - a bit like a set of market stalls.

The initial auction money was dished out in total to various local charities. But the money the successful buyers charged for their woman's services to the rest of the participants was theirs to keep. A clever buyer, purchasing the right woman at the right price, and charging enough for the woman's services, could end the evening with a significant profit. This was theirs to keep in its entirety. The game deliciously turned the buyers into pimps, the slave women into whores, and the customers into johns.

There were also other rules, many to do with hygiene, others to do with what was allowable. Keeping within the services offered by virtue of the coloured dog collars would be strictly enforced. To me, naive as I may have been, it sounded all very exciting.

The whores gathered in an anti room by six-thirty for a seven o'clock auction. We all wore just bra and panties and, of course, our collars. More than half were red like Pet's. I was the only black collar for pretty obvious reasons. Some of the women had fantastic figures, as did Pet. There were two women in their fifties looking voluptuous and one, to put it kindly, was past her sell by date. She confidently wore a red collar.

I hadn't until then realised there was a secondary competition between us; to see who could attract the highest bid and therefore raise tuzla escort the most money for charity. I had no chance in that department and my immediate concern was not to be the one who stood out and raised the least.

It was fascinating to watch how the ten of us reacted in those lock-down thirty minutes. As the time of the auction grew nearer and nearer some of us grew obviously more and more nervous. Not, I guessed, because we were mostly standing in skimpy bras and panties. It was more about the money we would raise, and then the likely clients we had to service. At this stage I had no idea as to what they would be like, apart from all would be some shade of black. I had a picture in my mind of lithe, athletic men with huge pricks. Oh, yes, perhaps the size of their pricks was a major cause for nervousness. Interesting the lady most senior in our group appeared to be the calmest.

Pet did not stand by me as she might - it was as if we were strangers at a garden party. She knew most of the other slaves, that was obvious, and she spread herself around chatting to most of them. She had obviously been a member of the club for some time. I cast my mind back; could she have been a member when she and I were living together as husband and wife? Come to think of it, she sometimes went off on a Friday night to stay with an old school friend. But she had said it was somewhere other than Boston, although I couldn't be sure. So much had happened in my life between then and now.

A black woman appeared; dumpy, five foot nothing and eyes full of fun; a sweet grandmotherly figure. "Good evening my little sluts," she laughingly greeted us. Clip board in hand she made to talk to us one by one. When we arrived at the venue we had had to sign disclaimers and other forms, so she knew our names and a lot more. She checked me over as she did the other whores, and then gave us each a number which was attached prominently to one of our wrists, just for the purposes of the auction. My number was seven. Pet's was three. That was the order in which we were to be auctioned off. Seeing the numbers on the women's wrists really brought the situation home to me and, for the first time, I began to have doubts.

Having finished her paperwork the dumpy lady addressed us as a group. "You need to pay attention my little whores, please. Shortly you will be instructed to move out of this room and onto the stage where you will be clearly seen by our audience tonight. I shall be there with you to ensure you are properly treated. There is a big audience tonight and possibly more to come, so I expect you all will be kept busy for the four hours you have kindly agreed to donate your bodies. Nobody will be allowed to touch you whilst you are on the stage, and you will keep your bra and panties on until the last five minutes. Then you should be completely naked, apart from your collars, of course. Any questions?"

"What if any of our clients want to go further than our collars say we have agreed to?" asked a delicious looking brunette with a blue collar.

"Just shout out 'NO' as loud as you can. We have monitors in both rooms keeping a very close eye on things. They're big boys and won't put up with any nonsense. Just to remind you, although I am sure you've all read the rules. No more than six fucks, arse and cunt combined. And for number seven the limit is four. What's more, with anal fucking, if any of you consider the man's weapon is too big for you to cope with then you can refuse. If the man complains, just holler and somebody will come and sort it out. Don't be afraid to. This is a charity event and you are our most precious contributors."

I looked around at the other women's faces. Pet looked the most relaxed apart from a busty redhead. My mistress winked at me encouragingly.

"Right my whores, out onto the dais outside." This was it.

We filed out into a huge room full of black men and women. Whoops and jeers and clapping, I imagined, filled every inch of the space. My first surprise was the number of women in the audience; somehow I had missed females out of my calculation and rather expected an all male audience. The next thing that struck me was the age range. Men under the age of eighteen were bared, in theory at least, but I hadn't reckoned on so many white hairs on beards if not heads. Of course, rich old men could likely afford the price of a fuck or whatever more easily than many of their younger compatriots.

The would-be dealers or pimps were encouraged to come to the fore and get a close look at the flesh they soon could be bidding for. And there, hitting me between the eyes was my moment of epiphany. What had just been an exercise in sexual adventure and fun suddenly caused my mouth to run dry. I realised how devastatingly horrible the actual slavery in the eighteen and nineteenth centuries had been for the poor souls, both men and women, who had been wrested out of Africa and forced into slavery; often in the most cruellest manner. Real women, rather than me, an apology göztepe escort for one, went, at the auctions alone, through indescribable horrors and injustices. I just wanted to run out of that hall and find the darkest corner and repent for the sins of my forefathers. Why didn't I? Was it cowardice? Perhaps. Did I see all those black faces in front of me laughing and joking, pointing and jeering, and my thinking "why should I spoil their evening just because I have an attack of conscience?" Perhaps I wasn't so much of a coward after all - especially if I gave my forthcoming clients their money's worth. I pulled my shoulders back and stick my tits out and stood defiantly with my legs slightly apart.

The potential dealers or pimps edged to the front of the dais to get a close look at the meat they would soon be bidding for. The younger whores seemed to be getting most of the attention but not exclusively so by any means.

My eyes alighted on a statuesque black woman, perhaps as old as forty - but black women tended to look younger for longer - and who seemed to be particularly interested in me. When the time came to take off our bras and panties she was close by. Whereas there were hoots and shouts as we undressed in turn, when it came to me, and when I revealed Twiglet to the big wide world, the women remained passive. She certainly didn't walk away.

Whore No.1 made $2,200. No.2 a little less. Then it was Pet's turn. Bidding was brisk. She played up to the audience as a whole; at one point sucking her forefinger and apparently then sticking it up her vagina. Half the hall erupted. I reckoned that gesture alone added significantly to her final score of $3,500. The older lady with saggy boobs made a surprising $2,350. When it came to my turn I expected the worst. The hall was filled with any number of wolf whistles and jeers alike. Yet I clocked up $2,250 much to my relief. No.9 was the redhead. Perhaps, taking her cue from Petronella, she stuck two fingers up her cunt and then sucked them. That was the winning stroke at $4,000 exactly.

We were ushered as a group back into the anti-room whilst, I learned, the winning pimps were paying for their conquests - an immediate card payment of course. Straight afterwards my buyer appeared with a much younger woman by her side. "I'm Julie and this is my daughter who will answer to Chris for me tonight. Follow me . I shall call you Cat." My real name had been kept secret. Julie came very close to actually what it was."

She led to a second large room where there were the same five beds spread out along the walls each with an accompanying settee. There were hospital type curtains on rails which offered privacy to both pieces of furniture. "I have your first client ready and waiting. Time is money tonight. Whilst you are servicing him, Chris and I will be continuing to take bookings. The idea is to keep you very busy for the next four hours. I aim to get a return on my investment in you. Here," she offered me some clean white panties, "slip into those. That's what the first client wants."

A big fat man was sitting ready on the settee naked from the waist down and nursing a humdinger of an erection. I was so relieved he hadn't ideas of sticking that thing up my arse as he had paid for a straightforward blow job only. This was my very first time I was to suck a black man off, albeit very much a slob of one, and middle-aged to boot.

His upper half smelled of cooking fat. "A sleazy cafe owner," flashed through my mind. His lower half was none to savoury either. What poor prostitutes have to endure! I set to work on him, sucking and licking his ball sac as a started. He moaned straight away. He had requested "no curtains" and so I quickly had a significant audience jeering and goading me on. Although I tried to put them out of my mind I was only too well aware they would have had an unrestricted view of my arse and my little button had it not have been for the white panties. Fatty deliberately gave me no warning he was about to come; he had made enough noise all the way through. This exhibitionism no doubt pleased Julie, as it likely attracted her new potential customers. There was nothing in our contract, between fatty and me, that I should swallow his spunk, but his first spurt caught me out, both in force and volume, and so I consumed quite an amount.

There were no thanks from him for a satisfactory experience. He pushed me away as if I was just a piece of garbage. Perhaps I was just that to his way of thinking?

Chris rushed over with wipes and freshened me up, and indicated I should take a sip of a drink which contained some sort of antiseptic. "Your next three bookings are all women," she whispered to me. And I'm drawing the curtains. They have all opted for privacy."

The first woman was fat and fifty and wanted me to rub my face in her womanhood and bring her to an orgasm - pure and simple. I was able to do that and she too, tidied herself up without a word of thanks. The second woman was looking üsküdar escort for much the same but was exceedingly nervous. I worked as best as I could on her but Julie called time before I was anywhere near getting her off.

So far the Twiglet had behaved himself; a measure of how erotic I was not finding the experience. The third lady was a lady in every sense of the word. She was about fifty, exceeding well dressed and spoke with an educated accent. She greeted me with a shy smile and offered to shake my hand. "Your name is Cat so they tell me?" She sat down; her choice was the bed.

"Yes," I replied gently. "Cat is my name for tonight."

"I understand. I've paid for a double session so there is no need for a tearing hurry."

"That's nice to know," I replied. "What can I do for you?"

"My husband died quite recently and we made promises to each other. I said I would not go with another man. But you're, sort of, not a man. But it's a man's lips and tongue I crave for. You're not equipped to enter me and that makes it alright. I want you to eat my pussy and give it a good seeing to."

I was charmed by her sophistication as well as the pathos hidden in her request. "I would be delighted to Madam," I said gently. "Shall I kiss you on the lips for a start?"

"Would you please?" she said.

Twiglet shot out a small stream of infertile spunk. My client noticed and smiled. I kissed her gently on the lips and the action seemed to engage her starter motor. She was wearing a full length free flowing skirt especially for the occasion I guessed. She pulled it up revealing a perfectly manicured triangle of pubic hair as she wasn't wearing panties. She had come well prepared. At first she smelled deliciously of perfume but she soon added the sweet and erotic scent of her natural perfume. She leaked to the point of gushing and I lapped up everything I was offered. She came in no time at all with an orgasm so powerful it all but took my breath away in a sort of admiration. Whatever she had paid for my services, quick as had been, she had had her money's worth.

Eventually she started to collect herself together, gratitude written all over her face. The same expression could be said of mine too. "shhhh," I whispered."Don't go until your time is up."

She lay back down her head on a pillow. I pulled her dress back up to her waist and open her legs widely. I slowly ate her out, tonguing her expertly so as to try and give her a the maximum erotic experience I could find in my box of tricks. It was a toss-up as to whom was most joyful when the woman had a second orgasm, almost as powerful as the first.

At near ten o'clock Julie told me to take a break and offered me a large shot of bourbon. Chris worked on me as I sat on the edge of the bed. For the first time I became aware of how noisy the room was. People were everywhere, but especially where curtains were left open around a sofa or a bed. Some of the customers, especially those younger and those with the largest cocks, tended to revel in exhibitionism.

Julie accidently booked such a young man, who insisted on wanting an audience. When he undressed and showed me his main asset, expecting me to suck it for a warm-up before sinking it into my anus, I said a very firm "No". I could have accommodated the tip and the first two inches at a push, and a push it would have been, but it thickened out alarmingly and was far too long. Julie came running to see why the man was making such a commotion over my refusal, but when she saw the size of him he was quickly offered his money back. As most of the girls were booked solid for the remainder of the evening he calmed down, settled for a part refund and a blow job. To his credit his jizz was very tasty and exceptionally profuse. I really enjoyed sucking him off. and we parted with laughs and smiles.

Two clients took me in the anus. I enjoyed both of them, although one young lad, he hardly looked over eighteen, was so excited he lasted no time at all. His parents, I believe, hovered outside the curtain and I had the impression that fucking me was his 'coming of age' present.

By the time of my last appointment, a half hour session, I was very tired and, for once in my life, not excited about having any more sex. Chris freshened me up for one last time and was sympathetic. "You've done really well Cat. Mom is very pleased with you?"

"Has she made a profit?"

"She sure has. She knew you would be a likely hit with women customers especially. She'll be bidding for you again come the next auction day."

"She might have a long wait for that," I glowered at the young woman.

"One more to come. He looks a nice man, Cat."

Chris was absolutely right. A tall man, about my age I would guess, appeared at the gap in the curtain and motioned me over to the bed. He was mid-black, if that makes sense, with 'come love me' eyes and a sensitive smile on his generous lips. He was wearing an extremely well-tailored fawn three-piece suit and highly polished brown leather shoes. Inside the waistcoat he was sporting a cream shirt with a pink tie speared with a pin in a riding crop design. His hair was short and curly and his smile a set of perfect ivories. My tired body offered me a little thrill of desire.