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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2012. Please
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Glory Survives
by Realoldbill (address withheld)
***
A young woman recovers after being sold into slavery.
(M/F-teen, underage, nc, v, tor)
***
Until late last year, Glorianna Waddolski had led a
pleasant if not charmed life. Then her family's Ponzi
scheme collapsed, both her father and grandfather
disappeared, and the creditors and government took
everything, even her clothes and shoes. Now it was her
turn to pay. Her uncle, who had lent her father tens
of thousands, demanded it. He now owned her, and he
was going to sell her.
The Cord 812 had brought more than two million, the
Rolls Silver Shadow almost a million and the Darrin
$550,000, a real surprise but two men wanted it. First
the house in Florida, then the one in Connecticut and
the brownstone in the city were auctioned; most of the
art had already gone to a creditor by previous
arrangement and certified agreements, collateral on
major loans. The hoodwinked might receive a dime on
the dollar from the sale, but it was better than
nothing. Now the floor held only men with red paddles
and the doors were locked and guarded.
Glory was brought out, wearing tiny violet
underclothes and a long, filmy gown, lightly drugged,
just enough to be cooperative. She stood smiling in
the blue-white spotlights, feeling a hundred pairs of
eyes on her. She was fifteen and had not attended
school since she was twelve.
They had let her finish 8th grade in a girls' school,
still a virgin, a virgin wearing a precious stone in
her navel and a golden bead on her clitoral hood. Her
only schooling since then had dealt with giving sexual
pleasure, and she had mastered a number of both
Western and Oriental techniques as well as the usual
Tantric exercises and Kegel patterns. They had used
electo-shock and drugs as well as hypnosis to control
her brain patterns. She was happy, always happy.
On command she turned about twice and then pulled the
silken tie and let her gossamer gown slither from her
luscious body. The audience gasped and then moaned.
Glory was perfect. Two full-grown men ejaculated in
their underwear.
She was nearly six feet tall and weighed 145 pounds.
Her inseam was 35 inches, her waist 22, and her bust
37 with a size C cup, a fine handful, standing upright
and pointed, the nipples fully extended. She now stood
in the bright lights wearing only her golden 5-inch
heels, her tiny violet thong and a purple shelf bra
with wide straps. A small emerald on a thin chain
bounced between her globular breasts. Her bared
nipples were hard and pink in tiny areoles, both of
them now pieced and fitted with dangling rings. Her
ass a thing of beauty, globular and symmetrical and in
movement, a lusty invitation. She was sexually
excited, eager to mate, her juices flowing and pulse
racing. She looked out at the men, smiled and licked
her pouting lips.
"Under the agreement," intoned the smiling auctioneer
hired by the multitude of creditors, trying to ignore
his painful erection, "the winning bidder will adopt
her. The papers are ready. She is under age, that is
under the age of consent. She has, according to sworn
affidavits, been sexually used fewer than a thousand
times in the past three years by only five different
men, all certified clean, all but one blood relatives,
and she has now has a Mark 8, three-point hymen
installed and is convinced that she is a virgin. She
can speak but seldom does and operates in three very
convincing modes: bimbo-slut, high courtesan and
American adolescent. The buyer will be provided with
the trigger phrases." Glory was, obviously, a doll, a
perfect sex doll.
He paused and looked around. Glory could feel the eyes
on her and became aware of a warm wetness between her
legs and a pricking sensation in her jutting nipples
that seemed aware of the recent piercing. She wanted
it, wanted it badly, that wonderful in and out, the
thick ram, the tireless stud. She had not climaxed
since Sunday afternoon, the last time she had seen her
well-hung brother, and he had ravaged her repeatedly
and then made her lick him clean.
The bidding began at a hundred thousand and went
quickly past a million as Glory moved though the
programmed poses she had been taught in the last few
days. When she walked across the stage, her rounded
hips not only rolled, they seemed to snap at the end
of each rotation. In her mind, she pictured her
handsome brother mounting her and wondered where he
was as she lifted both arms and braced back her
shoulders, arching her back, feeling her labia tremble
as she shook her breasts from side to side, smiling.
She peeled off the tiny bra, dangled it out toward the
bidders and tossed it aside. The men sighed and the
bidding climbed.
Her brother and step-mother were at that moment
fucking each other senseless in Bogotá where they had
flown on the company Lear jet, a plane encumbered with
liens and no longer their property. They had no
intention of ever returning to face the music. The
pilot was face down in a waste stream near the
airport, a bullet hole in the back of his head. They
sold the plane to a drug cartel and it vanished into
the jungle.
Glory closed her eyes as she rotated from the hips
again, writhing and pushing out her soft belly as she
recalled her grandfather seeming to die in her arms,
his stiff cock still buried in her lean body as he
went catatonic. The ambulance had taken him away and
two weeks later, he was happily humping her again with
a new battery in his pacemaker, his penis now wired
and filled with nano receptors. He and her handsome
father, the man she had slept with most nights, were
gone, vanished. They were, it was later discovered,
establishing new identities in Vancouver, BC, and in
the care of a skilled plastic surgeon.
The bidding reached two million and Glory, on command,
did some slow exercises, moving her well-muscled body
in highly erotic ways, now on her knees and simulating
coitus, then up on one leg, twisting, humping,
grinding. She thought about the first time she had
done this dance for her father and brother after both
of them had enjoyed her highly charged pussy and anus
together as they tested her Kegel-trained muscles. She
loved watching the men sweat and smile as she went to
her knees and offered them her well-toned body
repeatedly, knees open. They had taken turns between
her incredible breasts, bathing her face and curly
hair in their semen.
The grinning auctioneer pulled a slim gold pen from
his inside pocket, showed it to the audience and then
bent and slipped it up between the lovely girl's legs
and into her fat-lipped vagina. She clamped on it and
he stood back and said, "Watch." Slowly and with a few
quivers, the pen disappeared and the hairless lips
closed about it. The girl smiled, adjusted her thong
and the gleaming pen reappeared, stretched her
transparent garment, popped through it and then moved
up and down as if by magic. She closed her eyes,
arched her spine, tensed her buttocks and pretended to
climax, shooting the slippery pen across the tiled
floor. The crowd applauded and the bidding passed
three million.
Glory wiggled off what was left of her last miniscule
triangle of silk and took the huge dildo she had been
handed and recalled her training as a brainless bimbo.
She smiled and licked the jellied monster with its
ridges and knobs, held it in her mouth, spread her
legs, bent her back and eased the domed head into her
anus, squealing with feigned pleasure as she pushed it
deeper and rotated it slowly. She turned about so that
all the bidders could see that the foot-long shaft was
at least halfway up into her before she pushed it all
the way in and then quickly pulled it out and tossed
it away.
The bidding slowed and then stopped at $3,350,000. The
auctioneer called it out twice, as Glory sucked her
thumb and revolved her pelvis as he raised his hammer
and sold her. The hall quickly emptied and the short
man in the white kaftan signed some papers and
presented his cheque, drawn on a London bank, and his
certified letter of credit while the girl stood beside
him, adjusting her expensive new dress which hung to
the floor and had a hood that covered her blonde
curls, his hand on her firm rump. When he was done, he
tied the cloth across her face so that only her eyes
were revealed to others.
The formalities finished, he hurried her out to his
Bentley and his driver whisked them to the private end
of the huge airport. They climbed aboard a Japanese-
made twinjet and were soon on their way eastward at
30,000 feet. The seven men on the plane used the next
five hours to enjoy Glory, often two at the same time.
She welcomed them all and did her absolute best to
give them pleasure. Several of the men sodomized her
roughly while her new owner watched, smiling and
sipping mint-flavored tea with his hashish. He barely
touched her.
Once she had been installed in the man's huge home, he
called for his favorite surgeon, had Glory strapped to
an examination table and watched with pleasure as she
was circumcised with dental cautery tools which were
used to remove her outer labia, and clitoral hood. Her
screams echoed through the halls and out into the
gardens. Then her tiny clitoris was stretched out and
the sheik himself cut it off with his enameled dirk.
Glory cried out until she could not scream any more
and then just sobbed and mewled. No anesthetic was
used during the half-hour operation. She was made to
swallow the small bloody stump that had been the
center of her sexual pleasure.
A week later, when she as reasonably well healed, her
new owner stripped her, mounted her and pressed his
immature but erect penis into her. She looked up into
his dark face as he climaxed almost at once, shuddered
and withdrew, leaving a smear of his yellowish spend
on her scared flesh.
"Fah," he said as he stood and looked down at the
beautiful girl, "she is worthless. Give her to the
palace guards, let them use her."
About a week later, when they were done with her and
she was completely unresponsive, they sold her in one
of the emirate souks, a well-advertised auction as
such things go. After the camels and horses, the sad-
looking castrati were auctioned as a group and then
the females were brought out, all of them circumcised
and naked. Glory was the only blonde. She stood bent
over, one hand on her knee, her face covered with her
hair, fluids staining the inside of the thighs. I got
her for $200 US and took her to the nearest clinic.
They quickly operated and stopped some internal
bleeding, dealt with a partially collapsed lung, as
well as a prolapsed vagina and removed her spleen.
I then dressed her plainly and took her to the shore
where the sun and salt water seemed to help revive
her, but she was silent, totally silent and jumped at
any human touch. Using both my fingers and her own, we
carefully sought out a G-spot in her ravaged but
recovering vagina. Once we found it, we devised a
number of pleasant means of exciting it and Glory
learned to love my stiff prick between her inner
labia.
And of course, the rest is history, thanks to an
excellent plastic surgeon and a patient psychiatrist;
Glori Jones will be on the cover of the next SI
swimsuit issue and is the world's number one glamour
model. Her salacious dance of seven veils has millions
of hits, and she has endorsed perfumes, hair products
and the new Chrysler. And she is mine. Between us we
had wormed out the catch phrases, and she can still
operate in all three modes.
We like teenagers best.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 74