Aden

“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Fiona standing on the block in a bustling **** market in the Arabian port city of Aden. The British had briefly considered stamping out the **** trade, but relented when they realised it was (for the purposes of erotic literature only, I hasten to add) extremely sexy.

“Yes it is,” said Lady Evelyn, grinning hugely. “How on earth did you get here?”

“How did you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“So’s mine.”

“Well, anyway, here we both are. And I have all my clothes on, and you don’t have any clothes on. How does that feel?”

“At least I’m not alone.”

“Does that make it better?”

“No,” admitted Fiona. The bustling **** market was full of chained nude women from all corners of the globe, hobbled and shackled together, being bossed around by **** traders (both male and female) in concealing white robes whose voluminous modesty served by contrast to emphasise the nudity of the girls. Arab sheiks and Hindu rajas and Chinese brothel madams and decadent Western aristocrats wandered between stalls, conducting visual and tactile inspections of the blushing merchandise.

Naturally, the girls were all mortified. They were naked in public, after all. And they were mostly intelligent young women from good backgrounds, with careers and hobbies and a well-established position in society, whether that society happened to be the clubs of London or the villages of Madagascar. They hadn’t expected to be captured by pirates, **** by thugs, shanghaied by sailors, kidnapped by gloating rivals, discreetly sold under the table by their own husbands or otherwise whisked away into shameful nude slavery, to be stripped and chained and paraded naked through the streets of foreign ports.

Of course, the slavers all had whips, and used them freely on the bare bottoms of any girl who complained about anything. So the blushing, furious girls had to suffer in silence as the laughing slavers rubbed their breasts and buttocks with oil, weighed them on scales, fastened collars around their necks, tickled their nipples and pussies with peacock feathers and generally subjected them to all manner of petty humiliations and indignities. And then they were **** to stand on the auction block, bare for the world to see, while a confederacy of hooting wealthy degenerates squabbled over precisely which depraved pervert would get to take them home.

“I wonder who will buy you,” said Lady Evelyn, brightly, looking Fiona up and down. “You’ll fetch a good price, I should imagine.”

“Well,” admitted Fiona, cheeks turning pink as she considered the humiliating request she was about to make, “I was rather hoping you were going to buy me.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“To set me free.”

“If I was going to buy you,” pointed out Evelyn, ogling Fiona’s breasts with what seemed to the buxom English blonde a rather sinister expression, “setting you free is the last thing I would do.”

Fiona sighed. The curvaceous adventuress stood on an elevated wooden stage in the middle of the crowded marketplace, feet shackled in irons and hands fastened to a metal band that ran around her waist. She’d been standing there all morning with no clothes on, gleaming with sweet-smelling oil, her full creamy pink-nippled breasts and peachy bottom and golden curly bush and generally delectable English-rose body on display for any lecherous browser who cared to take a peek.

Evelyn was looking up at her with an insufferably smug grin on her face. “After all,” she pointed out, “if you’re sold into slavery, you clearly won’t be able to win our little bet. And then… Hellfire.”

“Yes,” admitted Fiona. “But then I won’t actually be able to do everything in Hellfire, because I’ll be too busy being enslaved.”

“Ah, but I so badly want to see you do Hellfire,” said Lady Evelyn, thoughtfully. “Very well. Maybe I’ll buy you after all… if you beg me.”

Fiona, who had expected something like this, took a deep breath. “Please, please, please buy me, Lady Evelyn,” she said, through gritted teeth. “I’m ever so **** and helpless.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve had to stand here all day with no clothes on, and it’s been ever so humiliating! I’m such a weak pathetic girl. People keep taking all my clothes off and laughing at me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. If you buy me, Lady Evelyn, I’ll have to do whatever you want before you let me go.”

“Like what?”

“I really hate it when you embarrass me, Lady Evelyn, because you’re ever so much smarter and richer and funnier and prettier and better than me in every way. It makes me feel so silly and small when you take off all my clothes and show everyone my naked bottom. I hate it when people laugh at my naked bottom, Lady Evelyn!”

“Please, continue.”

“You could spank my naked bottom. You could make me walk naked down the street, or hop, or skip, or crawl. You could tie me up and tickle me for hours. You could fuck me with a big black strap-on, or make me lick your pussy whenever you wanted. Or you could make me lick other people’s pussies, or even suck their cocks. You could make me stand naked in Piccadilly Circus and confess that I’m a weak pathetic girl who’s not as smart as you while everyone laughs at my naked bottom. Oh, please, Lady Evelyn, don’t buy me! Don’t do any of these horrible things to me! It’s so embarrassing! I’ll die!”

“Slaver,” said Evelyn, snapping her fingers. “This one, please.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” said Fiona, as she was unshackled and handed over to Evelyn by the shrugging **** traders. “Just one small thing. It’s illegal for British subjects to own slaves, no matter how sexy it might be, and this is a British colony. So I am now, in fact, free.”

“What?”

“And it’s also illegal for British subjects to attempt to buy slaves. The penalty for which is, I believe, being sold as a ****.”

“Oh,” said Lady Evelyn, as strong ****-trader hands clamped around her shoulders. Two British police constables looked on approvingly as she was roughly stripped out of her travelling gown, shackled in the same fashion as Fiona and **** up onto the auction block. “No! Wait! You can’t do this to me! Don’t you know who I am? Let go of me, you brutes! No! Don’t look at me! You do not have permission to look at me! Let me go at once!”

“May I?” said Fiona, smiling sweetly, and accepted a **** trader’s proffered whip. She wrapped herself decently enough in Lady Evelyn’s discarded dress, hopped up onto the auction block behind her and raised the whip.

“You wouldn’t dare! No! Ow! Ow ow ow!”

Lady Evelyn shrieked and wriggled all over, prevented by the heavy iron shackles from escaping in any way, trembling naked on the elevated stage with her fine high posh breasts, her silky black bush and alabaster posterior revealed in all their glory to the leering, laughing, lascivious mob. Fiona, righteous anger boiling in her veins, lashed the beautiful villainess’ backside again and again with the small leather whip, raising red stripes across her lovely moon-pale buttocks. When she judged she’d done enough damage, she took hold of Lady Evelyn by the shackles at her waist, spun her around and presented her bare well-whipped bottom to the crowd.

“Everyone laugh at Lady Evelyn’s naked bottom!” she commanded. There was an inarticulate cry of fury from Evelyn, and a roar of laughter from the crowd. “Say it, Lady Evelyn!”

“No!”

Fiona spanked her, again and again, the flat of her hand coming down hard on Evelyn’s already burning and tingling posterior. Evelyn’s naked bottom, as pale and perfectly rounded as that of a sculpture of Aphrodite, rapidly became a pleasing shade of sunset red. “Say it!”

“Everyone laugh at my naked bottom! Ow! Laugh at Lady Evelyn’s naked spanked red bottom!”

“Ha ha ha ha ha!”