Ladies and Gentlemen, I can honestly say that Omar's has never experience a day like today. May I present for your consideration once more slave lot 1228? As you surely all know she was purchased this very morning for the highest price in Omar's two thousand year history. Slaves have been passing through these hallowed halls since before Octavian became Caesar Augustus, Emperor of Rome. In that time many rebellious slavegirls have killed their masters, but never before has one slain her new owner by her own simple, overwhelming beauty.
Look into her eyes.
She is no ordinary submissive slavegirl. She never will be. She is sculpted steel, as magnificent and beautiful as a samurai sword... and as today's events have proved, she too has her lethal edge.
In all honesty my friends, I must recommend that most of you in this room merely spectate at this evening's extraordinary auction. Mere wealth and desire will not suffice this time, as our late lamented client discovered to his cost.
What am I bid?
Omar wasn't exactly pleased to see her, but he wasn't actually angry with her either. That wasn't what she'd expected. Once she'd been strapped back to the bulkhead and the plane had turned around, she expected Omar to give her a sound thrashing. Or maybe the stewardess to carry out her threat to lash her cunt to ribbons before she let her off the plane. Quizzical looks directed at the auctioneer didn't result in the usual quick flick of the whip to turn her head back towards the customers.
Alright, so the ropes were as tight as she'd ever been tied, and very secure- she didn't think she could squirm free without doing some actual damage to herself. But it was all a bit strange. It was almost as though all these masters and dominants were afraid of her. But that was just stupid. The bloke just had a weak heart, that's all. It probably would have happened the next time he caught sight of a bared pussy, no matter which slavegirl it belonged to. It was all a puzzle.
Would there be even one bid?
No-one in the auction hall would meet her eyes. The challenge in them was too strong. Most of those who pretended dominance were, in truth, scared of this slip of a slavegirl. She had killed her last master, by doing no more than dancing for him. Suddenly, they all found something to look at on the floor or in the wings of the room. Anything other than meet her gaze. Even when Omar had her stripped and displayed, to show that she was genuinely as beautiful as he had promised, there was not one bid.
Omar sighed and whispered in her ear: "Looks like I might get to keep you after all!"
A ghost of a smile danced on her lips. She was scared of Omar, and she liked that.