Andrew's story CHAPTER 2
The man quickly leaves the building and, as the door slams shut I am, for the second time, left alone with my thoughts. But now there is an added dimension; the man had address me as a slave. I don't know the length of time that has elapsed since I was drugged into unconsciousness on the beach in Italy. But the word he said was very clear and sent a shiver through my body; slavery is illegal these days. I remember nothing after being jabbed with the syringe in my thigh. My next recollection was waking up in the back of the van tied up with ropes. And later I remember the other men, the Arabs who had inspected my body and the transfer of the money. Why would that happen.
I look into the cell opposite me. There, on his knees, is another boy of about my age. Like me he is naked and has his head in his hands. He is quietly sobbing. I speak quietly to him several times asking him his name, what this place is and what is happening. After a while he looks up.
'Don't you know' he replies between his sniffles. 'This is a slave market. We have been kidnapped and are in the hands of slave traders. We are to be sold as slaves'.
'I don't understand' I reply. I thought we have been kidnapped for ransom'.
'Don't kid yourself. I thought that too but yesterday I was dragged before the owner of this place. He is a fierce looking Arab man called Farook and he made it quite clear that I have been taken as a slave and will soon to be sold at auction to the highest bidder. When I protested he just laughed. I was whipped until I would bow to him and crawl to kiss his feet. Were you brought in a van that met with some Arabs on the road'?
'Yes' I reply.
'Well they are slave traders. They work for Farook. They paid the men who kidnapped you. You see you have already been sold'.
The boy turns and faces me and what I see is beyond my belief. Around his neck is a heavy iron collar. He has rings piercing his nose and nipples and his cock is encased in a small steel cage. But what strikes me most is the angry red mark on the front of his thigh and Arabic symbols tattooed on his belly, just above his cock. He has not a single hair on his body.
'They did this to me four days ago' he says, I have been here a week, Now do you believe me'?
I am speechless. How could this be possible these days. I can hardly understand what the boy is telling me. He explains that he was out drinking at a bar one night in Rimini. Had far too much to drink and was walking home alone; it was easy for them to just bundle him into a car. Then a needle went into his thigh. The story has a familiar ring to it. I ask him his name and where he is from and discover he is David from a place called Abingdon in England. He tells me that there are seven boys in the cells and since he was brought here a new boy has arrived each day.
The walls of the cells are built of brick so it is impossible to see into those next to mine. My only view of the interior of the building therefore is through the iron grate at the front of my cell. It is obvious that there are very many cells but I can only see into those nearly opposite to mine. David tells me that there are ten cells on each side of the building but I can see that only some of those are occupied.
My conversation with David is suddenly interrupted when the door at the end of the building is opened. I watch in amazement as David immediately assumes a kneeling position at the front of his cell. He has his knees spread wide, his hands behind his back, his chest pushed out, his belly sucked in tight and his head bowed to his chest. Quickly he whispers to me to kneel like him. I follow his lead but wonder why he should instantly react in this way just at the opening of a door. In a few moments a boy appears pulling a trolley and behind, him a man in full Arab dress, holding a whip and what looks like a policeman's baton. The boy takes two bowls from the trolley and pushes them under the bars of David's cell. He repeats the process pushing two bowls under the bars of my cell and then moves on. Though I get only a fleeting glance at the boy I can see that he is adorned with the brand, rings and cock cage just like David and totally devoid of hair. He works quickly pushing two bowls into each cell and then retreats to the end of the building. The Arab walks slowly up and down looking into each cell. Then, suddenly he cracks the whip in the air. David and the others put their heads down to one of the bowls and start to suck up the contents. I look down. One bowl contains what looks like thick soup, almost grey in colour; the other just water.
The contents of the bowl taste of salt and virtually nothing else but, as I have not eaten for at least a day, I quickly slurp the thick soup into my mouth and swallow. Then I turn my attention to the other bowl and begin to drink the water. I have hardly begun when the Arab cracks his whip again. I notice that David immediately stops drinking, pushes his bowls under the iron grill to his cell and then assumes the kneeling, head bowed posture as before. He whispers that I should follow suit. In a few moments the naked boy reappears as he collects the bowls from our cells. As he kneels I see that his buttocks and thighs are covered with fading brown stripes. The boy disappears to the end of the building and the Arab looks briefly into our cells before leaving. As the door slams once again I see that David and the other boys opposite me relax their posture.
I question David about what I have just witnessed and he tells me that it is the normal routine for feeding. He tells me that we will be fed twice a day and that I must immediately assume the kneeling position in the presence of any of the Arabs or I will be whipped. He explains that we have just 5 minutes to eat and drink before the whip sounds again and we must stop. He also tells me that I will soon be taken before Farook and then be shaved, branded and pierced like him. I ask him if there is any point in resisting. David adds that there will be no point in that. If I resist I will be whipped and caned until I submit to their wishes; some of the boys are covered in bright red marks when they come back to the cells.
I look around the cell. On one side there is a slatted bunk with a scruffy mattress on it. There is nothing else except a hole in the floor in one corner. Still feeling the effects of the drug that had been injected I lie down on the bunk and close my eyes. I try to make sense of the last twenty four hours but cannot and I slowly drift into sleep.
The next thing I know is the sound of the door to the building banging and I open my eyes. I see that David is already kneeling behind the door to his cell and quickly assume the position at the front of my cell. Another Arab walks swiftly past and behind him, dragged by a chain, is a naked boy. I get only a fleeting glimpse as he passes but I can see that his buttocks are covered in bright red stripes and he is sobbing uncontrollably.
'That's what you get if you resist' whispers David.
My mind is in a spin. Surely this cannot be real. But then in a moment the Arab is unlocking the door to my cell. I feel a heavy metal collar placed around my neck and I am jerked to my feet by the chain held in the man's hand. I am dragged from the cell and out through the door of the building where another man in full Arab dress is waiting. As they march me across the open yard I cannot believe what David had told me. How could this be so but then I remember the beach , the men and the sting of the needle in my thigh and the exchange of money in the desert. We enter another building where, seated on a low settee is another man dressed in white Arab robes. I am forced to my knees and told to place my face to the floor. The man on the settee speaks.
'My name is Farook, I am the owner of this establishment and I deal in slaves. You are now a slave, you will be prepared by my overseers for sale at auction where you will be displayed before my customers, each one eager to purchase a boy like you. You will kneel up and face me now'. I feel the strands of a whip as one of the overseers lashes me across the back. 'Too slow slave' said the man standing behind me. Again I feel the whip hard across my back. 'Slave spread knee wide, arms fold tight behind back, push shoulder back, chest out, belly suck in, head bow'. At each command he lashes me with the whip. 'Excellent Abdul, the slave learns quickly' says Farook. He then addresses me. 'Look at me slave' he continues. 'You are now kneeling in one of many positions you will learn to adopt in the presence of a master. There are many positions of slave display but in every one your knees will be widely spread so has to hide no detail of your body from your owner. Now I think you could get those knees wider apart' Beside The Arab is a boy kneeling on the floor. He is naked, collared and ringed like David and in his hands he holds a glass of amber liquid. He holds the glass high so that the Arab can reach it easily and his head is bowed between his outstretched arms. I can see that the boy has his knees extremely widely spread leaving his caged cock and balls clearly visible. I notice some numbers tattooed above his cock and on his left thigh what looks like a large brand mark. 'Excellent' responds Farook as I force my knees painfully apart. 'Your life here and in the future will be less painful if you show absolute and instant obedience to our wishes. Do you understand'. 'Yes' I quickly reply. Again I feel the whip on my back. 'You are in the presence of your Master, slave' barked the Arab behind me. 'You will address him with respect'. 'Yes Master' I reply. 'That's better slave' said Farook, shifting his position and taking the glass from the boy kneeling beside him. 'I have agents worldwide looking for boys such as you; boys stupid enough to swim alone on isolated beaches. You made it so easy for them and now your life is about to change forever. Do not think anyone will be looking for you. You will have been reported as missing, a search will have been made, your clothes will have been found at the water's edge. But you will never be found and you will be assumed drowned whilst swimming in the sea. You will now bow your forehead to the floor, kneel up again and say, "yes master I am now your slave, master". Then you will crawl with your nose to the floor and kiss my feet'.
I can hardly believe what this man had said but as the whip lashes my back again I realise I have no choice. I bow as instructed and say the words. Then I crawl across the floor and kiss his feet.
'Excellent' said Farook. 'But when you crawl those knees must be kept widely spread. Your cock and balls but always be properly displayed. Crawl backwards and do it again'.
I quickly discover that it is very difficult to crawl with my nose to the floor and my knees spread wide but not wanting to feel the whip again I quickly do as ordered.
'Better slave' said Farook. 'You will now be prepared for display before the buyers and the sale in a few week's time'.
'Kneel up slave, bow your head to the floor and then crawl backwards from your Master's presence. Keep your nose to the floor and those knees wide' said the overseer.
My mind still buzzing I quickly obey. On leaving the room Abdul orders me to my feet and leads me to another room, the appearance of which fills me with dread. In seconds I find myself strapped to a table with my legs and arms spread wide by four men who attach leather straps. The straps are then pulled tight stretching my body to all four corners of the table. Three more straps are then placed over me, one across my chest, one across my waist the third across my thighs just above my knees. These are passed beneath the table and then pulled tight making it impossible for me to move a muscle.
Almost immediately I feel cream being applied to my underarms and to the area between my legs and around my cock. Initially it feels cool but this quickly turns into a painful burning sensation. Abdul leans over the table and, in a mocking voice, tells me what is happening.
'Slaves are not permitted body hair' he said. 'The buyers will want to inspect every detail of the goods for sale. The cream will remove all traces of hair and it will kill the roots so it will not grow back again'.
The next thing I hear is the buzzing of a hair trimmer as my head hair is removed. I have a good head of hair and really do not want it shaved off so this comes initially as a shock but then I remember David in the cells and the other naked boys I have seen here. It dawns on me that if I am to be exhibited naked in front of a crowd of men bidding to own me, then naked means totally naked, not a single hair. I am only just beginning to take in what is happening. The cream is now spread all over the top of my head and down to the back of my neck. The burning sensation has now changed to itching but I can do nothing to ease it.
The overseer Abdul continues.
'You will now be branded and your slave number tattooed above your cock'.
I try to protest but he quickly presses a wide piece of adhesive tape over my mouth. For a second I can feel the heat of the iron above my skin and then the totally indescribably pain as the red hot metal burns into my thigh. I try to scream and my lungs feel they will burst but I can make only a muffled sound through the tape. I struggle with all the strength I can muster but the straps hold firm as the iron is pressed into my flesh. The overseer leans over me and just smiles.
'Just the beginning of you new life boy, as a slave'.
The iron is removed and immediately cold water is poured over my thigh. The overseer says this is to ensure a nice sharp brand that will not spread into the surrounding flesh but I cannot appreciate the comment as the pain in my thigh is overwhelming. The cold water continues for some time but the pain does not lessen. Then I feel the cream being wiped away. Abdul holds the scraper above my face to show me what used to be my pubic hair.
The next thing I feel is the sharp prick of a needle on my belly just inches above my cock. It seems interminable minutes as the rapidly vibrating needle works its way across my skin. I cannot see what is being done of course but I know it must be my slave number being indelibly imprinted on my body. The body straps are removed and shortly afterwards those securing my wrists and ankles thought they are still held by the other men. They turn me over onto my belly and once more the straps are secured. Again I feel the heat of the iron and then the excruciating pain as it burns deep into my right buttock. Then more water is dribbled over my flesh for several minutes. Abdul places his hand under my chin. He lifts my head and looks into my tear filled eyes.
'When you are released you will kneel, bow to me and crawl to kiss my feet, understand slave' said the overseer.
'Yes' I say.
Instantly I feel the strands of a whip slashing across my back.
'You will address your betters here as Master, understand slave'?
'Yes master' I quickly reply.
The straps are released and I quickly scramble from the table and kneel facing the overseer. I spread my knees as wide as I can and bow my forehead to the floor. Then, keeping my knees as wide as possible I crawl forward and kiss his boots.
'Excellent slave boy, says the Arab whose name I now know well. 'it is good that you learn quickly'.