It is something intriguing about the fantasy of being a slave, being someone's property. In my romantic mind I tend to think about strange exotic places for my slavery. I am captured in some remote and fantastic place and there to be enslaved. It is a warm place so there is nothing strange in that I am kept naked or only scantily clad most of the time. And the sensation of degradation is overwhelming. Especially when you are sold.
The public auction of slaves is common in my fantasy and often have I stepped out on the platform, the stage, only to be sold to the highest bidder. A great crowd has gathered to enjoy the display and selling of the slaves. I walk out on the platform in front of that crowd who may see me and bid on me. It is a great stage and all eyes are on me. They can see all of me, how I move, how I breathe and how scared I am. I am already naked or maybe the seller strips me, there on the stage, in front of everyone. Then they can see every tiny movement of my body, every breath I take, every shiver in my frame.
Still I am vain, still I want them to like me, to find me exquisite, beautiful, attractive and lovely. I want to be sold for a high price, showing that I am, indeed, valuable. Nothing of the money that is paid for me is given to me. I am given nothing. I am only property and I can't own anything. I have been taken, my freedom stolen and my captors get the money from their theft. Still my vanity wants me to be a valuable slave.
My emotions are mixed as I stand there, naked, on the platform, the crowd bidding for to own my body, my person. I am humiliated, ashamed and scared, but at the same time there is a stirring within me, a tingling in my body that tells me about the other kind of sensations that threaten to overwhelm me. I want them to look at me, I want them to desire me and I want them to overwhelm me.
That is the essence of my slave fantasy.