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Sarobah : 06 - Slavegirl (M+F+/F+, M/F)

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Sarobah : 06 - Slavegirl (M+F+/F+, M/F)

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Sarobah's stories
06 - Slavegirl
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By Sarobah

Sun Aug 03, 2008 4:08 am

SLAVEGIRL

Many schools, including my alma mater, have a fund-raising event called Slave Day. Senior students – at mine it was members of the student council – are sold at auction to fellow students. It’s not really politically correct, but it’s popular and brings in heaps of money. The tradition is that the slaves have to wait on their owners for a day. They are made to dress up in outlandish costumes, run errands, etcetera.

As a member of the organizing committee, I decided to put my imprint on the slave market. For the first time, we tried to make it authentic. I drafted my ancient history class into arranging realistic costumes, including a cute little slavegirl tunic I still wear to toga parties. However, my pièce de résistance was that we should be put on the auction block bound in chains. The guys who were handy with tools fabricated a dozen sets of formidable-looking shackles – bracelets, anklets and collars, linked by heavy gauge chain. We even had advertising signs inscribed on little wooden panels that were slung around our necks. Mine said “Fair Celtic maiden, one previous owner.”

Some of my fellow slaves were nervous, but I showed the way. It was an amazing experience (a combination of embarrassment and pride) standing in my chains on a podium in front of hundreds of kids, being sold to the highest bidder. I was bought by a consortium of two boys and two girls, and I fetched a very good price. Oh, casting aside modesty – I scored the second best price of the day. In fact, we almost doubled our takings over the previous year’s. My only regret is that I don’t know what happened to the chains. They would have come in handy at some of the parties I’ve been to lately.

SPEECHLESS

I have a tendency to talk a lot, and I drive my boyfriend Rob to distraction with my verbal diarrhoea. One morning recently, when I was yapping madly while we were ... errr... playing in bed, he dared me to go an entire day – at least the daylight hours – without speaking. Of course I took up the challenge, and of course I didn’t even make it through breakfast. My punishment was to wear a ball-gag all day. Wasn’t it a lucky coincidence that I happened to have one handy?

I am not a great fan of the ball-gag. It’s very effective and looks very sexy (I think), but after a while it can get quite uncomfortable and there is usually dribbling and drooling involved. After a while, however, I got used to having it in my mouth and began to actually enjoy it. At the same time, Rob wasn’t entirely heartless. Once each hour I was allowed to take it out for a minute or two, for relief and for a drink; but no eating and definitely no speaking. Actually the hardest part was not so much wearing the gag as being unable to talk. Also, I was forced to stay indoors, since I didn’t relish having to use sign language to explain my unusual appendage to my neighbours.

If I get a chance, I shall write about my pet ball-gag. I call him Perry after a short-term boyfriend, for reasons I may or may not explain.


Sarobah
Australia

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