Stripped and Auctioned

Re: Patient 23508

I asked the patient to describe one of the fantasies in question. The following is a transcription from the recorded session. I intend to request descriptions of additional fantasies for further exploration.

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I am on a table... on my back. There are women all around the table. Some of them hold my wrists and ankles so that I'm immobilized. I resist but they are too strong. Their faces are expressionless.

The women begin to strip me of my shoes, skirt, blouse... in that order. I put up a terrible fight, kicking and punching, but they overpower me. I am heaving from the struggle. The women pull my stockings off. I am wearing only panties and a bra.

With all my strength, I pull my legs together to prevent them from pulling down my panties. Realizing I must focus on one line of defense, I concentrate on locking my legs together even while the women easily strip me of my bra.

The women double their efforts to pry my legs open. I twist and clench ferociously, but fail to defend my sex. The women pry my legs from their lock and pull free my panties.

More women join the effort to completely immobilize me. I am too exhausted to resist any more. I am spread eagle, naked.

The women shave me below my arms, legs... my private area... everywhere. I am helpless to stop them. I close my eyes as they shave my sex. I cannot face them.

They flip me over onto my stomach to shave the back of my legs and ass. By the time they are done, I am on my back again, hairless from the neck down. I try to break free once more, but they don't let go.

A few of the women step back and away from the table as another woman steps between them. She is the headmistress. The women look down in her presence. She is carrying a pointer type of stick which she uses to inspect my body, poking my breasts, pulling open the lips of my pussy, and running it along my legs. Her look is stern.

She motions and they turn me over. I struggle against them as they rotate me, grunting from effort and frustration. It is no use. Her stick pulls my ass cheeks apart.

They return me to my original position. She inspects my tits one more time. I muster the power to look the headmistress in the eye. She finds this amusing, judging by her wry smile and raised eyebrow. I look away, my face flushing red.

She walks away. The women become busy again. They sit me up. I search for any sign of sympathy. Nothing.

They tie my wrists in cuffs behind my back. I feel even more helpless. They apply mousse to my hair, which they pull tight behind my head. I feel my neck completely exposed.

The women move me off the table. They walk me into another room onto a round platform surrounded by curtains. Standing in the middle of the platform, I hear a muddled sound of voices coming from behind at least one curtain.

There are two half rings on the floor. The women hold my legs and attach separate cuffs to my ankles. Each cuff is attached to one of the rings, pulling my legs slightly apart. When I am secured to the platform beneath me, the women scamper away.

I am left naked, hand cuffed, and basically chained to the floor. I try to imagine some way to cover my tits, my pussy, anything, but there is no way.

The curtains rises, revealing a mixed crowd of forty or fifty men and women. The blood drains from my face. I have nowhere to hide.

They are seated all around the circular platform, which I realize is elevated a few feet. Everyone is wearing a suit or fancy dress.

As I scan the crowd, I see many strangers but also friends and neighbors! Their eyes are fixed on my body. I am mortified.

Worse, I see my husband! I lock my eyes on him, but he is not looking at me. He looks at the paper in his hand and at the crowd. He chats with the person seated behind him. I want to call to him, but I somehow know not to.

The crowd buzzes. I see papers flipping about and hushed conversations. Most keep their eyes on my naked body. This lasts several torturous minutes. My eyes fall to the platform below me. It is too humiliating.

The headmistress reappears. She walks up behind me and stands to my side. A sinking feeling comes over me.

The headmistress is dressed in a long black dress and shiny black heeled shoes. She shows some skin, but her dress and posture stand in stark contrast to my nude vulnerability.

The crowd quiets and their attention turns to the headmistress.

I see her arm come around from her side carrying with it... a small leather whip. She pushes it in front of me for inspection. My eyes widen as it approaches my belly. I am struck by how shiny the black leather is, and how intimidating is its design. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see people jotting down notes. She pulls the whip back and switches hands.

The headmistress speaks.

"Kneel!"

Her words are cold and piercing. Everyone can hear her commanding me to kneel. I imagine the looks on the faces of the people I know, and now I know I cannot face them. But I refuse to be degraded any further.

I hesitate and then shake my head no.

Crack!

I feel the whip land on my ass. It surprises me, and I turn slightly in her direction. But the sting is light, and I return to my position.

Again, notes are taken. I hear the crowd murmuring.

She holds the whip up for me to see again, and then it disappears into her other hand.

"Kneel!"

Same voice. Same tone. Same defiance on my part. I do not hesitate. I shake my head no.

CRACK!

This time, the strike is much stronger. I shift uncomfortably, closing my eyes a second or two while waiting for the sting to pass. She has my attention now, but I won't kneel. NEVER!

She shows me the whip again and then pulls it back.

"Kneel!"

Those in the first row can see the determination in my face now. I shake my head no.

CRACK!!

Despite my best effort, I yelp slightly as the whip lashes my ass. She has increased the force again. The pain explodes up my belly, through my pussy and down my legs. My heart begins to race. For the first time, I begin to wonder how much more I can withstand.

The whip reappears briefly before me and recedes again.

"Kneel!"

Still telling myself to ignore the pain from the last strike, I shake my head no again.

CRACK!!!

This time the sound of my yelp fills the room. It feels like I've been struck by lightning. The sting races to my head and leaves me dizzy. I feel my knees shake and tears well in my eyes. The pain is overwhelming. The pain is debilitating.

The crowd reacts strongly. Notes are feverishly taken. Short conversations take place.

The whip reappears briefly before me again.

"Kneel!"

I have some idea of the delay between her command and the strike of the whip now. Fractions of seconds pass in slow motion. I have too much pride to kneel on command, not in front of all these people, but I cannot suffer another strike of the whip.

Feeling the imminence of another even more brutal strike of the whip, the voice inside me cries out... no more... you... must... kneel! The whip is in motion... NO MORE!... KNEEL NOW!... BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!!

I can practically hear the whip beginning to slice through the air towards the fragile, suffering surface of my behind.

I fall to my knees.

Her command has superseded my will. I am broken. I cannot look up.

I hear hushed conversations all around me.

The space between the hooks in the platform forces my knees open as I drop to the floor. I try to pull them shut, to prevent my sex from being quite so exposed. It is useless. The front row will get a fine look at my naked pussy.

The whip reappears before me. I am very frightened by it now, and it shows.

The headmistress does not pull it away this time. Instead she reaches down and pulls my chin up so that I am looking at her. Her look is stern again.

"You will do as you are told. Do you understand?"

She gives the dangling whip a little jiggle to make sure I understand that there is only one correct answer.

I nod meekly.

Not enough. She squeezes my chin.

"Do you understand?"

I have no alternative but to answer.

"Yes" I say, softly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see several write down notes.

The headmistress is still not pleased.

"Louder!"

I feel a tear run down my cheek as I raise my voice loud enough for all to hear.

"YES!"

She smiles wickedly and lets go of my chin. My eyes fall back to the floor. The onlookers continue taking notes.

The headmistress steps away and off the platform. I am left alone on the platform to contemplate the harsh lesson I have been dealt.

Suddenly the platform begins to rotate! The crowd gets a 360 view of my kneeling, quivering, defeated, naked body. I can only imagine the whip marks on my burning ass.

The platform makes its first rotation, and I cannot look up. The crowd will see what it will see, but it won't see my eyes.

On the second rotation, I set my pride aside temporarily and look to the crowd. My tearful eyes fall on my husband, our friends, and our neighbors, searching for answers... why are they letting this happen? Is this what they came here to see? To see me stripped naked, humiliated and forced to follow the commands of a cruel headmistress? Are they enjoying this?

They are. It is a devastating thing to realize, and I look back down.

The rotation stops. I hear steps which can only belong to the headmistress. Her shiny black shoes stop in front of me.

"Look at me."

I raise my eyes to hers. She has the same look as when she inspected me on the table. She is carrying a long, thin stick.

"Keep your eyes on me."

I dare not disobey. She takes steps to one side of me and then the other. Even when she looks away from me, I keep my eyes locked on hers.

With the stick, she begins to correct my posture. My back is straightened, tits and pussy pushed forward and knees properly aligned. She steps back in front of me. She taps my tits. Lightly at first, then with increasing force until I flinch with each strike. My eyes remain locked on hers.

She smiles wickedly. She pushes forward one foot.

"Lick!"

I hesitate for a half-second, but she starts the stick in motion again and I know it is a mistake to contemplate resistance.

Casting all dignity aside, I practically dive onto her shiny black shoe rather than suffer a strike from the stick. My ass stretches up into the air and my tits feel the pull of gravity. Worse, the platform begins to rotate again.

The crowd gets a 360 view of my ass and pussy as I worship the foot of the headmistress.

We complete one rotation. I hear an announcer's voice.

"The bidding will begin at 15."

My mind begins to race. I begin to understand where I am...

"We have 15, do I hear 20?"

This cannot be happening to me! I am up for auction!

"We have 20 do I hear 25?"

I begin to raise my head to protest...

WHACK!!!

I feel the stick strike my ass. I twist in pain and tumble back to my licking task in a helpless panic.

"30...35...40...!"

How could this be happening? How could my friends let this happen, much less participate?!

"45... do I hear 50?"

My mind races some more. Is it better to be purchased by a stranger? I imagine myself as the property of our friends, our neighbors... but I am not "property"... I mean, I am not supposed to be someone's "property"...

"55...60..."

Is my husband bidding? I cannot tell. There is no sound from the crowd. I assume they are holding up signs to bid.

"65... do I hear 70?"

Is this how it will be from now on? Will I serve at the feet of a mistress or master? Can anyone be as cruel and dominating as the headmistress?

"70 going once..."

I want to look up, but I know I cannot.

"...going twice..."

I decide it is better if I am bought by a stranger, as I can never face our friends and neighbors after they have seen me like this.

"SOLD!"

The stick taps me on the forehead. The mistress speaks.

"Up and eyes locked on me!"

I raise my head and look up at my mistress. My back is to the crowd. In my eyes, she can surely see fear and desperation to know what is going to happen to me. She does not offer an answer.

The crowd's buzz picks up, but I cannot see what is happening. The women reappear to tie a collar around my neck. They remove the cuffs from my ankles but leave the handcuffs. The headmistress takes the leash. She turns and walks me to the side of the platform. I do my best to keep up with her, walking on my knees. She is to my right, and my eyes are fixed on hers, while to my left the crowd is still buzzing.

There is a small ramp into a cage awaiting me. It is open. She orders me to lower my eyes to the floor and keep them there. She unties the leash and orders me into the cage. It is big enough to allow me to crawl around, but not big enough for me to stand.

After I am in the cage, she locks it behind me. Hearing the locking sound, I am surprised to find myself feeling relieved... comfortable... even safe! A woman approaches the headmistress and then walks away briskly. The headmistress tells me to turn back around and face the cage door, which I do with my eyes glued to the floor.

I hear footsteps behind me, and the cage begins to roll forward. The headmistress walks ahead of the cage. As we reach the edge of the platform, I cannot resist temptation. Out of the corner of my eye, and with the most subtle twist of my head, I look to the crowd.

I see my husband shaking hands with our neighbors. They are smiling and chatting casually, as if the whole show had been perfectly normal. He is handing them a key and a leash.

And then the cage, carrying me inside, leaves the room.

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We concluded our session. The patient was visibly aroused.