This was a dream of mine for a long time, almost an obsession. But I wasn’t sure it was even possible in today’s world. Then I took the plunge – after a pretty quick search on the dark web, I found this auction. My heart started racing twice as fast... I went through a series of checks and got a sample contract. No other document in my life had ever led to such big changes… The sections on physical parameters were incredibly detailed, with options for both men and women, possible limitations, and the term of ownership. I looked at this part with the most anticipation. The available options were: a day, a week, a month, a year, or lifetime (marked with an asterisk). Hmm… a day – definitely not. Lifetime? No way, I’m definitely not ready for that! A week seems like the best option. I have no idea how long their lawyers must’ve worked to make sure the contract didn’t conflict with most laws, or how well they actually pulled it off... But basically, for the agreed period, the person loses all civil rights turning into a real slave, and their only protection is the list of limits written in the contract. They required a stack of documents and proof of my mental competence, including a detailed medical examination and a report from a psychiatrist. In the end, I received a *certificate approving the slave for auction*. But enough about the paperwork. I got my affairs in order, double-checked my will, paid the deposit for the auction in Bitcoin, and… waited at the agreed spot. Then came the classic setup – a black car, people in masks took my phone and checked me for bugs, put a black bag over my head, and after weaving around the city for a while, we finally arrived. It looked like the reception area of a fancy hotel. Security at the entrance. All the staff were women, but their different roles were immediately noticeable. The girl at registration was a slave in metal collar. She was chained to her place. But other slaves in gold collars moved around freely. Everything was overseen by commanding women holding riding crops. Participants were brought in by owners, usually men, but there were some women too. The prospective slaves, lined up for sale, looked scared, disoriented, and often tearful. I hand over the contract in my turn: “So, gender, age, limitations… Owner?,” asked the girl, chained to reception “I'm applying myself.” replied I embarrassed “Ah, I see. Head to the changing room.” The slave girl looked at me with a hint of sympathy, but lowered her eyes under the supervisor’s gaze. There were already a few men in the changing room, along with a stern Domme. “Strip,” she commanded in a way that left no room for defiance. “I said everything!” “But… it’s a part of me,” I started to argue timidly, referring to my chastity cage. “Absolutely everything! From now on, you don’t own any single thing! Put your belongings in the container; you’ll get them back after the contract ends.” I was terrified to part with my cage. It felt like my last line of safety. But I had no choice… Three men were already naked with hands cuffed behind their backs. None of them looked at me. They stared blankly ahead. “They don’t belong to themselves anymore,” I thought, “and neither do I.” She put collars on them and chained to a pipe that ran across the entire background of the platform. My turn… The click of the lock sealed my old life behind me. Oh, how tight the chain is—it’s nearly impossible to move. We’re waiting backstage while they auction off the last few female lots. The stage… We’re so defenseless here. Flooded with light, displayed like goods for sale. "*Like goods*? Did you forget why you’re here, stay naked and collared?" my inner voice was relentless. Over the past few years, I’d gotten so used to at least having a cage for cover. But now, it’s gone, and my hands are tied behind my back… I had never felt so vulnerable in my entire life. I steal a glance at the others nearby... I look pretty good for 46—a heavier body of a former grappler, an extra 30 pounds, but still some muscle left. But everything’s relative. The guy to my right is an athletic 30-year-old, perfectly built. Behind him, there’s a slim young man who almost looks like a girl. But that wasn’t the main thing… The fucking dick size! I lost the competition. That's why I love the cage - to avoid these competitions. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer began—a commanding, well-groomed woman with a deep voice. “We’re starting the second part of our auction and presenting to you the male specimens. The minimum bid increment is $50. Ownership rights begin at the close of bidding and last until the contract’s end. I’ll introduce each lot in turn.” Breathe in, breathe out, in… out… When I managed to pull myself together, I dared to look out at the audience. Rows of twelve seats each fanned out in arcs from the central aisle. Not all the seats were filled. The buyers were mostly women... “So, here we go—Lot Number One!,” she began. My ears were ringing, and I couldn’t remember the sale of the first lots. Even though I’d told myself not to imagine who my buyer might be, I couldn’t help it and kept scanning the room. It seemed like no one was even looking at me… “What an old fool I am—why did I get myself into this?” I thought. “Shut up! You wanted this, and you’ve spent half your life working toward this moment!” my inner voice shot back. Suddenly, I felt a gaze on me! Yes, that dark-haired woman in the third row! Strong features, sensual yet tightly pressed lips, a calculating look. “Could she be the one I saw in my dreams?” I wondered timidly. “Don’t fantasize!” my inner voice snapped as usual. “How humiliating that she sees me like this,” a strange thought crossed my mind—“Isn’t this exactly what you came here for?” it continued, mockingly. I lowered my eyes, but I could still feel her gaze. I tuned in to the flow of the auction. Breathe in, breathe out, in… out… "Lot Number Four!"  A sharp crack of the whip jolted me back to reality. “Forty-six, experienced, obedient, and well-trained slave,” the auctioneer read my profile. “In my opinion, he looks quite good for his age.” I was ready to die of embarrassment... "No injuries, no blood, no brands, no piercings," continued she my list of limitation. “Starting price is $1,000 for a one-week contract,” announced the auctioneer. “Damn, nothing’s started this low today,” flashed through my mind. It’s a strange situation: I’m both the item being sold and the one who’ll receive the proceeds from the sale. “Is SHE still watching?” I didn’t dare to look up. Breathe in, breathe out, in… out… “Place your bids, ladies and gentlemen!” But the audience was silent. A terrifying sense of shame from impending failure pierced me—how much lower could I fall? "Unfasten him," she commanded suddenly. "And free his hands." Before I could process it and stretch my numb arms, sharp commands followed one after another: “Sit!, stand!, inspection!, submission!”. I moved into each required position (I really am well-trained), but one thought kept running through my mind: “Is SHE still watching?” "On your knees! Open your mouth!" putting on a latex medical glove, she walked toward me, hips swaying. Her fingers were exploring my mouth. Deeper and deeper. All my deep-throating skills came in handy. And... my body responded just as it always does. The audience began to applaud at the sight of my hard on! “He’s not so small or useless after all,” she laughed. “A proper reaction, just as a true well-trained whore!" “All right, your bids?” “$1,100,” “$1,300!” — “$1,300 going once, $1,300 going twice…” “SEVEN THOUSAND!” The room gasped. I timidly lifted my face, smeared with saliva—it was HER! Sold slaves waited for their new owners, kneeling by the stage. At least our hands were now bound in front—it was such a relief. I hadn’t fully processed what had happened when SHE approached. I didn’t dare look up and didn’t get a good look at HER. All I saw was her hand, which I instinctively kissed. A click of the clasp on the leash, and then She was leading me through the crowd. Naked, leashed, finally, officially owned. The trunk of a large SUV. A mat smelling of dog. The road to a new life…

Once Lady M told me - tomorrow will be a dog day! I was thrilled! It had been my long-time dream! But how naive I was... The life my Mistress had in store for me was nothing like my fantasies! Excitement and anticipation kept me up the night before. One fantasy after another played through my mind - I'm a house dog, I woke up on a mat, I have an owner, she takes care of me, I love her, sometimes she's strict, and I'm a little scared of her. And now here I am, standing at the door of her hotel room, trembling with nervousness but eager to embrace the role I’ve longed for so much. Is it really a role? Maybe this is my true essence. Reality hit me from the very first moment—the words of greeting were cut off by a sharp slap: "Dogs don't talk!"I'm trying to adapt to this new reality... Instead of hands, I have paws—I never thought boxing gloves could be used like this. The whole world looks different when you're seeing it from the ground. My speech is now limited to barking and whimpering...The command "Come!" snaps me out of my daze. Her touch... I’ve always loved it, even when it brought pain. But now it stirred such an overwhelming wave of tenderness! After a brief moment of confusion—how could I express what I was feeling?—I instinctively found the right way: I licked her hand! Mistress clipped the leash on and led me around the room. She showed my mat, then pushed my nose against the couch: "No! Bad dog!". I see... It's my new life...There were a lot of mirrors in the room. But I was trying not look at them. You can imagine the picture - I was naked on my four, the only chastity cage and the collar were my clothes. But my inner picture was another - I was an elegant and powerful Rottweiler, and didn't want to break this picture in my mind. In the meantime, life was becoming better and clearer — Mistress was pleased, and I was fetching her slippers and ball, amusing her greatly with his clumsy movements on unfamiliar paws. Mistress was distracted by a phone call. "To your spot!" she commanded me. A few minutes later, a courier arrived with a fragrant bag of food from the restaurant. I shrank back, afraid the courier might see me, but his eyes were only on Mistress's enticing figure. Suddenly, I realized just how hungry I was. Afraid to move, I watched Mistress, swallowing the saliva. She ate, scrolling through her phone, paying no attention to my faint whimpers. “Oh, you’re hungry!” she exclaimed, finishing the last bite. “Come here—I bought you the best dog food!” I stood gloomily in front of the bowl of dry kibble, unable to bring myself to even touch it... "Don't want it? Then stay hungry," she smirked. "At least have some water." I clumsily lapped at the water, and she laughed cheerfully at his pitiful attempts. And then... with a casual "Go to your spot!" tossed to me, Mistress settled onto the couch with her laptop and phone. She dove into her work, occasionally pausing for phone calls. The "dog" waited. Have you ever thought about how much waiting there is in a slaves' life? While the owners live their own lives, the slave, like an unnecessary object, waits in his place. This thought stirred confusion in my mind, but I was too afraid to move or make a sound. Almost two hours passed like that... “Oh, I forgot the most important thing!” she exclaimed. “Come here! Turn around.”I couldn’t see what she was pulling out of her bag.Waiting. A touch. Lubricant. Her insistent fingers explored my ass. Something cold and hard filled me inside.“Look at what a beautiful tail you have!” Mistress laughed with delight. Then, “Fetch! Ball!” I ran around the room, wagging his new tail, chasing after the ball. After playing, she took some brie cheese out of the fridge and brewed coffee. "Want some? You can't have this, your food is in the bowl," she teased, and I sighed, swallowing the saliva.She lounged comfortably in the chair. "Come here, get to work!"I didn’t need much convincing—I understood her immediately and eagerly got to doing what loved and was so good at. I worked my tongue tirelessly, greedily swallowing all the moisture. She reached the first orgasm quickly. For the second, I had to put in more effort. Finally, satisfied, she leaned back in her chair, while I, content and exhausted, lay at her feet. That’s how my day went—moments of happiness followed by long stretches of waiting. But I began to be troubled by a problem… By then, I had mastered the body language enough to express my need. "You need to go to the restroom? Of course, let’s go." I stood on my four confused in front of a litter box meant for cats. A new challenge awaited... "Come on, silly, lift your leg and..." It dawned on me that she wasn’t going to leave me alone there. I held out as long as I could, but natural needs overcame the shame. It was yet another step I wasn’t ready for, another push at the boundaries—one of many, and surely not the last... Later, I "worked" a couple more times to earn the moisture and was happy. The bowl of food remained untouched. For that, I was punished—but that’s another story. By evening, the sleepless night before and the stressful day took their toll—I curled up on my mat and drifted off to sleep. Sometime during the night, half-asleep, I felt Mistress gently cover me with a blanket...