Colonel Beddington

Colonel Beddington [Continued]

Part II

by Bill Smith

[Please let me if it is worth the time and effort to post this story as well as let me know what you think of this story by contacting me at anonymous4371@juno.com. Thanks, Bill Smith]

CHAPTER 13

"Dibs on that one," a stocky slave handler exclaimed as he spotted the huge jet black slave fastened in the back of the van as they started to unload its contents. As he unhooked the black's collar from the hooks on the sides of the van, he grabbed the slave's head harness with one hand and fastened a leash to one of the slave's tit rings with the other. After leading him off the van onto the loading dock, he grabbed the slave's erect prick and began stroking it. "This one's all mine - at least for the first fucking," the handler smiled. "I like the coal black ones that are really hung like this one," he commented as the then began roughly massaging the slave's balls as a symbol of his claim.

"I claim blondie for the first go-around," another handler yelled out authoritatively although he couldn't possibly have been a day over 18 himself. That handler, after unhooking the beautiful Scandinavian slave from the side of the delivery van, led the slave out to the loading platform by his long thick prick, as if it were a handle for his convenience. "This slave will soon learn how to take a fuck properly after I've had a go with him," he bragged to no one in particular since the other handlers paid him no heed whatsoever, busily stalking out their own territory on the busy dock among the plethora of slaves arriving in numerous vans from throughout the country.

"The little olive-skinned one's mine," an older handler shouted. "Looks like he's an Italian if I know my slave stock, and I love training Italian boys. They always squeal like a gutted pig when they're poked with a big one, but invariably they clench their ass muscles in the process that makes them one of the best fucks around. When they've been properly trained, they generally bring top dollar on the block - buyers appreciate an ass that has been easily trained to thoroughly massage the pricks stuck up their butts - feels like the slave is milking you - and generally Italian slaves are good looking to boot!"

"Hey!" one of the larger handlers proclaimed as he checked Clint's tag. "This white boy is Colonel Beddington's property. He's too soft looking to have been a slave long, although they certainly got him fitted out properly," the handler said as he jerked on Clint's nose ring painfully. I bet there's a story in back of this one if they haven't already cut his tongue out to insure his story stays with him. I'd say he's from America. He's been nearly trimmed, obviously from birth," he started his assessment with the slave's prick, "he's well hung for a white boy; his body is buff like you get in a gym - not from any serious work; and he looks like he's in shock." The muscular black handler laughed as he removed the head harness, extracted the penis gag, and heard the slave gasp for air as he simultaneously broke out in tears. "There! That proves it. The slave's American, all right. Crying already and the training hasn't even started yet," the Negro handler chortled as he held Clint up by his nose ring with his left hand while he vigorously stroked his still erect prick (thanks to the huge dildo still within him) with the other. "Nice meaty prick on this slave - it'll add to his value. Colonel Beddington's no fool - I never known a Beddington slave that wouldn't bring top dollar on the auction block. At any rate, you're mine for the orientation round, at least," he added possessively as he fastened a leash to Clint' nose ring, but actually used his aroused prick as a handle to guide him into the building with the other new arrivals.

"Oops!" the large dark-skinned handler stopped abruptly. "Forgot to check if they left your tongue in you," as he took his finger and pried Clint's mouth open, tugging on his nose ring to assure cooperation in the investigation. "Yep. Tongues still in you, so either you don't have much to say or no one gives a damn what you have to say one way or the other. Probably the latter!" he laughed as he took his finger out of the white slave's mouth and jerked his head down with the nose ring while he pulled on the slave's swollen shaft to lead him forward again.

"Mr. Singh? Colonel Beddington here of Beddington Enterprises. Pardon me calling you directly like this, but I felt I needed to talk directly to the owner of Paradise Modeling. My secretary got your name and direct phone number for me somehow, but I needed to talk to you about a former client of yours - a Mr. Clint Morgan, the CEO of Morgan Airconditioners in Arizona. I believe he was one of your best customers so I assumed you would know of him - had a penchant for black ass each and every night I was told."

"So?" Mr. Singh replied defensively.

"Oh, it's nothing to me one way or the other, Mr. Singh," the Colonel chuckled. "If you could make money off that bastard, more power to you. No doubt you are aware he died in a tragic accident off the coast of California."

"Yes, we lost a very good customer," Mr. Singh acknowledged.

"You're probably wondering why this is any business of mine, Mr. Singh?"

"Precisely, Colonel Beddington."

"Well, I was a very close friend of Mr. Morgan - hence my knowledge of the services your provided so well - and he used to tell me about some of the models he hired."

"Yes?" Mr. Singh responded suspiciously.

"Well, Mr. Morgan said a few of the big handsome bucks you provided for his enjoyment seemed to resent having to offer up their ass each and every night just because Mr. Morgan was rich and powerful enough to hire exactly what he wanted. He also told me he thought some of them really resented the fact that a rich white could get all the black meat he wanted anyway he wanted it - Mr. Morgan said one of them told him he felt just like a slave must have felt 200 years ago in the Antebellum South. That black model of yours was convinced good looking black boys were bought up right and left out of the slave pens to satisfy the whims of rich white buyers who were into fucking blacks."

"I'm familiar with how some of the black studs who work for Paradise Modeling feel about some of their white customers," Mr. Singh responded coldly. "But I remind them that what you have to do when you don't have a damn thing going for you but a good looking, sexy body and how they feel about it doesn't have a damn thing to do with putting good hard cash in their pocket. They usually calm down with when that little reminder. After all, Mr. Beddington, most of my stable has practically no education, no practical skills to offer the workplace, no real connections to get ahead in the world. They wouldn't be working for me if they had any of those things to offer. But they are smart enough to capitalize on what they do have - an appealing, sexy body that can be sold for good solid money each and every night."

"It's good you offer a channel to get these goods out into the marketplace where they're available and appreciated," the Colonel flattered the brothel keeper. "I know Mr. Morgan thought highly of your service."

"I still don't understand why you're calling me," Mr. Singh responded in a much friendlier tone.

"I've got a real opportunity for one of your black studs that strongly preferred to top, i.e., fuck the clients, and equally strongly resented having to serve bottom, ie., being fucked, especially by a white client. In fact, the opportunity is mainly for one who hated being fucked by whites and felt such usage made him little better than a slave of olden times in America when, I'm sure, it was common enough . You see, Mr. Singh, I know of a discrete situation where a person actually owns a white slave, unbelievable as it may seem in today's world, and needs to hire a trainer for the slave who would have natural inclinations to be stern, unyielding, and unrelenting - not a sadist, exactly, but just one step this side of that. Of course, the training for the white slave would involved providing sexual services for his master and his friends, so the trainer would need to be prepared to train the slave in all aspects of submissive sex so that the end product would be totally compliance with whatever demands were made upon its body, eager to perform to the owner's complete satisfaction, find a new identity as a sexual slave totally committed to its present or future owner, and, once trained, would stay that way the rest of the slave's life. I thought one of your stablemates who deeply resented being fucked over and over might just be the ticket. Of course, I would pay you, Mr. Singh, a most generous finder's fee for your loss, but, with the money you would get out of this deal, I'm sure you could find any one of dozens to fill the lose in your stable. I was thinking of a $100,000 finder's fee and, of course, the stud volunteering to assume the training position I had in mind would make upwards of $100,000 a year provided he proved to be discrete and would sign a contract of confidentiality upon hire. That would include room and board as well as transportation costs to the employment site. Needless to say, he should be unencumbered - no family, no friends, no other employment opportunities. And I'm afraid I would insist that he had been frequently fucked by Mr. Morgan and resented each and every time he had to offer his ass up for the white man's enjoyment. I think that is the only type of experience that could insure me he has the background necessary to be a good trainer of this white slave of my friends I was talking about. And, Mr. Singh, all arrangements would have to be totally confidential, of course, but I'm sure you're used to that in your line of endeavor anyway."

"A $100,000 finder fee?" Mr. Singh double checked.

"No more, no less," Colonel Beddington said smoothly.

"In that case, I think I can provide just the boy you're looking for. He's one of my best boys, but I mainly use him when a customer, usually a female, wants a real good looking black stud that is practically indefatigable. He really hates being fucked up the ass, especially by white men, but when business is slow, he had to do it to make ends meet. So, this particular boy, has been fucked by the former Mr. Morgan many a time - the pay was just too good to turn down - but I had to hear all his vitriolic and venom about being fucked as long as all that white cum took to ooze out of his asshole. The boy came to me in desperation off the streets where he wasn't making it as a street hustler on his own. He has no family and when I first took him on, he was seriously underweight and sort of sickly. After he was in my stable a while, he started working out and eating properly - now he's one hunk of pure man, let me tell you. And, despite all his mouth about being fucked by 'honky men,' all of my white male customers had nothing but praise for his taking a good fuck in their beds. Me? I think he likes getting fucked up the ass and is too hung up to admit it. He's yours for 100 grand - for every black boy like that one, there are 200 others out there - hung just as well, muscles just as developed, and faces and bodies just as sexy and appealing. The supply in his business is just about as good as the demand."

"What's the black's name?" Colonel Beddington asked.

"Sebastian LaMasters - how's that for class, especially with a black whore?" Mr. Singh laughed.

"Have the black call me as soon as possible. As soon as he calls, you'll have $25,000 forwarded to your account. When he signs a contract with me, another $25,000 and when he actually shows up ready for his new position, the final $50,000. OK?"

"OK, Colonel Beddington," Mr. Singh quickly responded. "Just the one?"

"Just one, Mr. Singh. Let's not get greedy," the Colonel laughed. "What's the account number you want the money forwarded to, and before I forget it, write down the telephone number this black whore Mr. LaMasters needs to contact me."

After the model agency owner gave the account number to Colonel Beddington, he expressed his gratitude that the Colonel had called him directly and his pleasure that they do "a little business" so expeditiously.

"The only problem I can think of, Colonel," Mr. Singh added while he had the Colonel on the phone, "is that Sebastian has one hell of a dick on him - he's fine to fuck, but when he's put in the driver's seat, he has the potential to damage some built on the small side. I've had some women customers that he caused more pain than pleasure and they won't use him anymore. The same with some male customers that rented him to stud them. He left some of them bleeding and so sore they wished to hell they'd never gone near him. Just a caution, mine you, Colonel. His huge size may not be a problem in your case."

"Thanks for the warning, Mr. Singh, but I don't think it will be a problem. Training slaves is a little different than pleasing customers. A slave should be grateful when he's opened up properly."

Mr. Singh shuddered at this last remark and marveled again that there were real slaves out there somewhere in today's world and whoever they were, they were obviously being "trained" to sexually please their "masters" no matter what was demanded of them. It was one thing to sign up with his modeling agency - you could always quit or refuse a particular patron - and you were always well paid for pleasing your assigned partner. After a while, if you saved up, you could retire long before your body lost its appeal. Overall, not too bad a life for a good looking, well equipped boy with a good attitude. The boys in his stable seemed to enjoy their work overall and certainly enjoyed a warm comradery with the other models who ended up being their best friends. He knew 'slaves' couldn't quit or refuse anything asked of them and he suspected a slave was ordered to do a lot of things he wouldn't dream of asking of his models. He hoped none of his stable ever ended up in a slaver's hands!

The stablemaster thought of Sebastian LaMasters as he speed-dialed him on the phone to break the good news concerning his future employment. Although Sebastian always loudly belly-ached about being fucked by 'honkeys' when he picked up his share of the fee the next morning (always dressed in a tight fitting T-shirt and showed off every detail of his muscular torso and even tighter blue jeans that exhibited his huge basket), the black had never once turned a job down where a 'honkey' wanted to fuck his ass. The money meant more to him than any personal preferences and the money was necessary for Sebastian to survive. Mr. Singh remembered how thin and sickly the boy looked when he had first applied for work at Paradise Modeling as a result of trying to make it on his own hustling the streets. Now he was going to get paid over a 100 grand a year teaching slaves how to survive in their world. Sebastian had to offer up his ass to survive - so did slaves. Sebastian was always looking out for a 'good' customer who would treat him right or, better yet, a 'sugar daddy' that would take him on full-time. Slaves probably sought out, as best they could, a 'good' master' whose demands they could meet and their master was their 'sugar daddy.' Slaves hustled for food, shelter, and security. Sebastian hustled, ultimately, for exactly the same things. Yes, Mr. Singh, thought. Sebastian will fit right in training slaves. Whether he knew it or not, he already understood the system well! No wonder he had been reticent to criticize Colonel Beddington for owning slaves - for all practical purposes, his 'models' led lives little different than most slaves he could envison.

Sebastian LaMasters took all of one minute to decide on his new employment and made the arrangements with Colonel Beddington's agent that very day. Thirty-six hours later, the handsome black was settling into his new apartment near the slave quarters at Colonel Beddington's estate in Namibia. He had brought only one suitcase filled with his preferred clothing (form-fitting T-shirts and blue jeans), a CD and DVD player with some favorite CDs and some porn on DVDs that always turned him on, some jock straps for his exercise sessions, some K-Y jelly and a gross of condoms just in case. He couldn't believe that for the $100,000 a year he was being paid (plus the apartment and meals) he wouldn't be asked to 'put out' for this mysterious Colonel or at least be serving stud. But, at that price, he really didn't care. He'd gladly take a fucking every hour on the hour at that price! Or, better yet, fuck himself silly for 100 grand a year. It wouldn't be all that different than Paradise Modeling - but this time with a guaranteed salary and room and board thrown in. Hell, he chuckled to himself, this black nigger would do anything this new honkey boss wanted at that price! He quickly stripped to the buff, smiled as he laid down on the clean sheets, and drifted into a deep sleep, catching up on all the sleep he had lost on the flight over.

Clint, like the other slaves, was quickly led into the huge dark complex making up Keetman-shoop Slave Training and Sales. The newly-delivered slaves were now free of their head harnesses holding the speech-nullifying penis gags and the large butt plugs up their anal chutes had been removed, giving the slaves a strange empty feeling in their bowels after the long period they had been implanted within them. At the first stop, they were bent over in place by having their nose ring fastened to a short leash connecting them with the floor and a well-lubed nozzle was forced up them for another round of enemas. After four thorough flushings by the slave attendants in charge, they were led to another room where again they were leashed by their nose rings by an overhead hook (again by a troupe of slave attendents who had obviously done this many, many times) so their heads were forced upward and they were practically on tip-toe, then showered, thoroughly body shaved once again, and then lubed. The slave's neck and leg muscles ached before all this was over as their head was forced into such a strange upward tilt as their legs were strained to maintain the stretched upright positions to alleviate the pressure on their nose rings. As soon as all this was done, the slave attendants delivered the freshly cleaned slaves back to their trainers who again leashed them by either their genital or tit rings and led them to a room filled with narrow leather-covered benches. There they were placed face down with their nose rings again fastened to a small clamp in the bench itself about head level so that their bodies were pressed tight against the black leather with their asses fully exposed and then their legs were clamped wide apart to make their hole fully accessible.

"We know you slaveboys have been fucked a lot before, but now your serious training begins," one of the trainers said in an authoritative voice which was quickly interpreted into a half dozen languages reflecting the national origins of the new slaves. "Well-trained slaves are expected to be able take a good fucking any time of the day or night, repeatedly if demanded, and, with some decent training, not only well please your new owners but will learn to enjoy it yourself. Those butt plugs on your ride to this training facility should have stretched you some, but there's nothing like a real prick up your ass to teach you properly. So just relax, slaves. You've got a long round of fucking ahead of you this afternoon!"

Without further ado, Clint, along with the other slaves fastened to the 'fucking benches' grunted and moaned as he felt his trainer's long, thick shaft entered his open hole and quickly work its way all the way in until he felt his user's prickly pubic hair on his fresh- shaven butt. On the next bench, the blond Scandinavian screamed as the youth riding him begin to buck his phenomenally large prick in and out of his ass roughly. The small Italian slave on his other side gasped and then howled in agony as his trainer began plunging in and out of his small hole. The only slave in the room not howling, screaming, or crying was the huge black who had rode in the van opposite Clint. He took his trainer's prick easily and rather stoically accepted what was being done to him with little visible emotion - obviously this was old stuff to him and he looked almost bored as his trainer began pumping him in earnest.

This initial fucking was only the beginning as the head trainer had intimated in his opening remarks. As soon as their trainers had dumped their first loads well up the slave's asses, they traded slave partners and the second round of fucking began, albeit at a somewhat slower pace. After that, the trainers again switched slaves. After five rounds, another batch of fresh trainers were brought in as replacements and the whole operation started all over again. Before the afternoon was over, five sets of trainers had been utilized in this initial training, yielding 25 completed fuckings for each new slave. Most of the new trainees had lost consciousness by this time, but the Italian slave, whose ass was bleeding badly, was still softly wailing and tears were still streaming down his cheeks, although his face was, by this time, devoid of emotion. The boy was in a state of shock. The blond slave was feebly screaming, but his screams had long ago lost any volume, and all that came out now was a high-pitched moan. He too had a bleeding asshole by this time. The black was still seemingly unbothered by the afternoon activities, although sweat was rolling off his body, his large nipples were rock hard, and he sported a huge hard-on that was constantly dripping despite shooting off numerous times as his prostate was continually stimulated. Most of the other slaves, including Clint, had passed out with buckets of cum running out of their backsides.

Soon thereafter, their original trainers returned, refreshed after a long 'recovery' period, and each went swiftly to their original slave trainee. Clint's trainer, looking at the comotose trainee under his charge, smiled broadly as he gently outlined the still-tender brand on Clint's ass cheek with his long fingers.

"Welcome to Keetman-shoop, white boy," the trainer said softly as his fingers spread some of the cum oozing out of his trainee over the slave's ass. "This is only the beginning, slaveboy, but you'll end up one well trained piece of property for the Colonel, believe you me. We'll get your body in shape with your muscles defined like you didn't believe possible. We'll get your mouth and ass so eager, you'll feel anxious as well as empty without something in your slave holes. But, best of all, we'll teach you what being a slave is all about to the point where you not only accept it, but define yourself by it. The Colonel wants a handsome pony that can also be bedded down for his or his guests' pleasure." The trainer reached up to Clint's hair and ran his hand through it almost lovingly. "Within three weeks, I wager, that's exactly what the Colonel will have."

CHAPTER 14

Clint slowly regained consciousness and found himself in a small metal-barred cell along with the blond Scandinavian, the Italian, and the huge black that had accompanied him to the slave training facility in the delivery van - a trip that seemed like it was centuries ago at this point. The other slaves were all wide awake, busily eating some biscuits that looked like they were made out of compressed dry dog food.

"Here, eat," the big black said in heavily accented English, handing him one of the brown biscuits. "Eat - need to - keep strength up - me know," the black added authoritatively.

Clint tried to move but quickly discovered his ass was so sore it was practically impossible. The black seemed to understand his plight and put the biscuit to Clint's mouth as he added, "Ass sore?"

Clint nodded and took the biscuit in his mouth. Strangely, it seemed to have no taste at all, but he crewed on it anyway and eventually swallowed the whole thing. The black then pointed to a small spigot shaped like a large penis located on one wall of the cell and demonstrated its use by swallowing the penis-shaped spigot and then sucking vigorously on it. He then spit out a mouthful of water. Clint looked at the black gratefully and quickly twisted his body so he too could swallow the phallus on the cell wall to get some water.

When he'd had his fill, the black again offered him a biscuit. "Each slave - two biscuits. This one yours too," he stated. "You eat it," he commanded.

Clint was hungry, he realized, so he quickly crewed the remaining biscuit and again washed it down with some water. Only then did he realize there were two other slaves in the call that were new.

The two new slaves were obviously twins - identical twins and both of them were so handsome they seemed almost unreal - like an artist's concept of masculine beauty or a sculptor's perfect model. Clint stared at them unbelievingly for a long time, ashamed that just viewing their sexually alluring bodies gave him a huge erection visible to everyone in the cell with him. Absolutely identical in appearance, the boys were startlingly handsome: only about 5' 1" tall but with well exercised, very muscular stocky bodies and creamy white flawless skin highlighted by dark brown rather straight hair removed everywhere but on the top of their head, where it had been allowed to grow down to their shoulders. Their only adornment were their thick brass slave collars and the brass genital rings forcing their sex out for full display. Although now looking to be in their early twenties, their complete body shave and flawless skin, tanned evenly since they were obviously rarely if ever clothed, made them appear no older that 16 or 17 although their portentous sexual equipment certainly was seldom found on any boys of that tender age.

Seeing me staring at them with lust in my eyes, the twins explained what they were doing in the cell with me without prompting.

The twins related their story:

A roving slave agent from the Keetman-shoop slave house where

they were currently housed had purchased them at an estate sale three

years ago while visiting Athens to pick up some other slaves already

purchased by the Keetman-shoop center. The estate sale was prompted

because a local brothel owner had died suddenly and his stock (all

slaves) had been auctioned off immediately in a most discrete fashion

since slaves there still couldn't be openly marketed. The slave agent was

able to buy up the pair of identical twins for an amazingly low price

considering the quality of the merchandise.

The Athenian brothel owner, attracted to their natural Greek

beauty, had kept them relatively "unfitted." Other than their brass slave

collars, the pair sported no rings, bands, bracelets, or shackles anywhere

outside the genital ring used to 'show off' their 'best attributes.' But the

Athenian did insist on the collar and the band around their genitals. He

was convinced the standard slave collar clearly marked his property for

what they were - slaves, and served, at the very least, as a constant

reminder to those wearing it that they were his property. Consequently,

he had fitted all his slaves with slave collars of one type or another.

And, since they worked in a brothel now, it was only appropriate that

their sexual equipment should be prominently displayed at all times -

hence the genital rings. But the Athenian felt this addition only served

to continually remind the brothel slaves of their primary purpose in this

world - pleasing others with their bodies..

The twins were the product of a Greek slave-breeding farm

located on a secluded off-shore island some distance from Athens under

private ownership to prevent unwanted publicity of what went on

there.. Due to its proximity to Athens (where a surprising number of

residents quietly and discretely owned fairly large numbers of slaves

these days), it was easy to market the farm's unique product (with a

fresh crop of carefully bred slaves coming of age each year) for top

prices.

On the farm, the boys had been brought up in a slave nursery

and, like the others in the nursery, never really knew exactly who their

mother or father had been although they assumed they were among the

adult breeding stock kept there.. But their unusual good looks, small

compact bodies, and large sexual organs told them some thought had

probably gone into their particular breeding. Trained from birth to a life

of servitude, they were first sold to a wealthy Greek shipping merchant (

a well-known and world renown playboy in his own right besides

owning several cruise lines, an airline, and a shipbuilding firm). Only

15 at the time of first sale, they had been purchased as "dining room

attendants" for the Greek master's huge private yacht but, as it turned

out, the twins ended up mainly as naked display objects and sexual

playthings. The merchant, already satiated with life's pleasures, had

quickly become bored with their naivete and traded them in for

considerably older and much more experienced slaves at one of the

periodic underground sales in Athens. It wasn't long until the twins

were sold to the owner of one of the city's largest male brothels.

There, their real training had begun. Greek preferences, as well

as an international reputation for fulfilling a busy specialized tourist

trade, meant most male brothels were quite popular and the twins were

just two of the hundreds and hundreds of carefully selected and trained

slaves available for customer usage. Exercised daily to attain maximum

body attraction and potential, their training included full body hygiene

and grooming instruction as well as every possible technique insuring

their appeal within the clientele of the house. Within weeks, the twins

had established a solid reputation as always willing, well trained, and

totally satisfying pleasure providers with remarkable endurance. They

quickly proved to be an excellent investment despite the very high price

they had brought on their second sale (and yielding a huge profit to

their original purchaser, the rich Athenian shipbuilder)..

With the death of the brothel owner, the twins were once

again up for sale at the estate sale disposing of the brothel's

property. That's where the Keetman-shoop purchasing agent

first ran across them. The agent, an expert in evaluating human

flesh up for sale, gave each of the twins a close personal

inspection in the small alcove usually allowed for such purposes

where slaves are being sold. He found the boys willing and

eager, certainly well trained after their time in the brothel, and

totally acclimated to their born heritage as an owned object. His

only objection was to the breeding farm's rather archaic brand on

their right butt checks, but at least the brand had been fired in

neatly and was well centered. Despite their background in the

brothel, the twins appeared young, fresh and almost virginal -

extremely rare in brothel slaves who could begin to look old and

haggard by their mid-twenties if not well taken care of or if

worked too hard, which, unfortunately, was too often the case.

The Keetman-shoop agent paid full price for the twins

rather than risk a losing bid at an open auction and had them

promptly shipped by Keetman-shoop's private jet back to their

training and sales facility. Once caged back in Numibia, they

looked even younger than when he had purchased them -

probably due to the strict diet and exercise regime prescribed for

all slaves housed at the firm's training facilities. But he also

knew that restricting their sexual duties to the regular routine

prescribed in this training center for all slaves - a considerable

reduction from their brothel days where another customer was

always waiting - was also responsible for their robust fresh look.

Moderation in usage always paid off - an axiom the agent was

constantly trying to get the firm's best customers to follow in

using their new purchases.

Clint stared at the twins the entire time they were telling their story unable to control his throbbing penis as he looked at them. Despite their unparalleled sexual appeal, the twin's enthusiasm for what lay ahead of them, their genuine appreciation of their life up to this point with no bitterness or concern, and their total openness with no apparent shame or guilt was truly appealing, especially to someone in Clint's position at this time - free until just days ago, now naked, branded and ringed like an animal, and fucked nearly to death - the twins were inspirational, if not a model to follow at this point in his life. If they could be so upbeat after all that had happened to them, surely he could cope better than he seemed to be up to this point. If Colonel Beddington was going to turn him into a reined pony who was run nearly to exhaustion during the day and fucked half to death each and every night, he really didn't see where he had any options at this point so he might as well cope the best he could. As the huge black slave near him in the cell had counseled: keep your energy up and survive! Good advice! The black certainly had and Lord knows what all he had been called upon to do as a slave.

The next day Clint's ass was still terribly sore, but he could move around without too much pain. The trainer's didn't make any demands that next day on the four slaves who had been fucked 25 times each unrelentingly. Apparently, the trainers wanted their torn asses to heal prior to further 'instruction.'

But the Greek twins were moved out into the workroom fully visible from the slave's cell and put into exercises, obviously to ascertain how well the twins had been trained at the brothel in order to determine if further training was necessary prior to being marketed yet again.

"You," one of the trainers said softly to the first Greek slave, "get to work," pointing between his own legs. The Greek gently removed his trainer's only garment, a loose fitting pair of cargo pants, and, in one gulp, swallowed the trainer's large shaft down to the base. As the organ swelled in response, the slave's throat worked hard swallowing the entire length down his throat without gagging and begin to work his throat muscles to gently massage the trainer's tool.

"And you," the same trainer directed his twin, "crawl up here where I can play with your tits."

"Yes, master," the other twin said humbly as he crawled around his brother and got into the best position to offer his chest up for the trainer's usage. Both of the boy's tits, although un-ringed to date, had been worked on over the years to where they were permanently swollen. Now they were large and protrusive nibs against large dark brown circles - almost feminine, except for the massive muscular development they were positioned on.

"The sales manager here at Keetman-shoop may ring you yet, boy, but it's nice to feel tits with nothing in the way," the trainer murmured as he squeezed and rubbed the boy's swollen tits with both of his hands. The Greek slave shivered as the heavy massage continued on the sensitized nipples, but remembered to thrust his chest out for his user's convenience as he'd been trained. The strangely painful but at the same time pleasurable phenomenon overwhelmed his body as a result of the trainer's manipulations and he closed his eyes as his body shuddered in response. His penis swelled and his balls enlarged as the stimulation continued.

The trainer arched his back as the Greek sucking away accomplished his purpose and had a massive ejaculation down the boy's throat. The slave struggled to swallow every drop while continuing to squeeze the trainer's shaft as hard as he could with his throat muscles. When the last drop had been extracted, the Greek twin carefully licked the trainer's organ clean and looked up for instructions before withdrawing from the shrinking shaft.

"Now that I've got your brother all ready for you," the trainer laughed as he squeezed the swollen shaft of his twin, "I'm going to let you loosen his ass up a bit, but no shooting off - you hear, boy - just shaft him all the way until I order you to stop. Your brother needs to be fucked regularly just like you do and there's no reason you can't at least loosen him up a bit while I recover my strength," he laughed.

The trainer let lose of the twin's tits with the sharp command, "On your back, Greek boy, with your legs up over your head. Your brother's going to fuck you a while."

"Yes, Master," the twin said as he plopped on his back and swiftly lifted both legs over his shoulders to best expose his asshole. His brother just as swiftly climbed atop him and prepared to enter the hole with his swollen prick.

"Can you see, Master?" the Greek asked before entering, knowing he was there to entertain this trainer (and demonstrate what 'well-trained' meant to the caged slaves observing them), not fulfill any needs of his own.

"Move him a little to the right, slave," the trainer answered and the move was instantly made.

"Go to it, boy," the trainer commanded.

The slave lunged with force and his large shaft sunk as far as possible into his brother's chute in one movement.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," the brother groaned as he tried to accommodate the rectal invasion as gracefully as possible. But, his brother gave him little time to adjust and the shaft began slowly pumping in and out of his tight chute almost immediately.

"Faster, boy, but don't you shoot on me," the trainer ordered and the fucking speeded up almost immediately.

"Get it in all the way, slave," the trainer commanded as he whacked the slave's ass, leaving a large red mark on the Greek. "And don't let up on that pace, either," he said backhanding another welt onto the slave's ass.

After a while, the trainer seemed to be satisfied with the Greek slave's performance in fucking each other and ordered the one fucking his brother to get into position for a good fucking by the trainer. The Greek slave was to be taken from the rear while on his hands and knees as wide spread as possible. The slave's twin was to place himself on his back under his brother's face and allow himself to be suckled by his brother's mouth as his brother was being fucked by the trainer. Neither slave, of course, would be allowed to ejaculate in that would diminish their readiness for other activities the trainer might desire.

To the four slaves left in the cage witnessing all of this, the sight was almost unbearable knowing they too would soon be expected to be just as cooperative in meeting the trainer's demands as the Greek twins were and their pricks dripped steadily revealing their perverse excitation in witnessing the erotic scene being played out right outside their cages.

Later, when the trainer had completed his fucking of the Greek slave and had rested to the point where he could again enjoy his sexual activities, he again started issuing orders.

"One of you get to work here," he said pointing between his legs. "And," he said pointing to the other twin, "I think I'll play with your prick and balls for a while. Let's see how long I can play with them without you shooting all over yourself," he laughed as he tweaked the boy's protruding tits.

The one twin dutifully swallowed the trainer's shaft and felt it extending itself slowly down his throat as he struggled to work his throat muscles around the expanding organ.

"Now suck, boy, and get that tongue going," the trainer commanded.

"Yes, Master," the boy tried to answer but couldn't with his mouth fully stuffed.

"And you, boy," he said turning to his twin. "Squeeze your ass checks together and get that pelvis lifted up high so I can get to your equipment easily. We may have to ring you yet, boy," the trainer said as he grabbed the offered penis and balls and began a steady massage of the spongy but obviously full balls and stroked the dripping shaft. The Greek boys pleased him with their massive equipment on such small bodies, which, the trainer conjectured, may have partially accounted for their alleged popularity while working in the Athenian brothel.

Turning to the cage holding the four slaves witnessing the 'training session,' the trainer asked, "You boys learning what's expected of a slave nowadays?"

All four slaves nodded readily that they had learned the expectations.

"Good," the trainer replied. "We'll get you trained in no time at all to meet those expectations to the complete satisfaction of your new owners."

"And you, Clint," the trainer chuckled, "will not only be trained to be a pleasure slave like your cage-mates will be, but you'll also be trained to be a pony for your owner, Colonel Beddington, who is most exacting when it comes to his slaves."

Clint heard both the blond Scandinavian and the olive-skinned Italian slaves utter a short gasp followed by a choking sound as their destiny was confirmed - they were to be trained as slaves devoted to providing their owners with the most refined forms of sexual pleasure possible. The black slave merely shook his head in accepting his announced destiny. His last two owners had used him sexually: the first one had used him for over five years as his favorite bed buck where he was used daily in the most disgusting ways; the second owner, although primarily using him as a stud to produce new slaves with his female slaves, also routinely loaned him out as a pleasure slave to his friends and house guests. There was nothing this new training would entail that would be new to him and he expected to be marketed within days once the training center realized all of this was 'old hat' to him and he would have no trouble adjusting to the demands of whoever bought him.

But Clint couldn't believe his ears. He suspected his fate might lie in this direction, but to hear it stated so casually was unbelievable. He broke out into a series of deep sobs to which his trainer only laughed.

"Oh, don't worry, slaveboy," the trainer said to the slave, misinterpreting the source of the slave's anxiety. "It's going to take weeks and weeks to get your body buffed up properly and get your muscles into perfect definition anyway. By that time, you'll have all the skills you'll need to make your owner happy. There's really no need to be worrying about disappointing Colonel Beddington at this point!"

The Greek twins were finally allowed to empty their swollen balls and then quickly led back to the cage where the black slave was ordered to fuck both of them "to get them opened up a little more with that big prick of yours."

The black, not believing his good luck at being allowed to fuck something this quick in his training instead of being fucked yet once again, promptly took the first of the twins on his back with his legs wrapped around the black's waist. After emptying into him, he ordered the other twin onto all fours, and promptly rode the Greek slave until he too was pumped full of the black's sperm.

Clint remained motionless while all this was taking place, his mind reeling. Although he had vowed only hours before that he would do anything necessary to adjust to the new realities and survive, he was beginning to doubt his own abilities to do so. But then he studied the black again, again pumping into the second twin for a second round. The black had been a pleasure slave/stud for years now. He seemed healthy, hearty, and cheerful. If the huge black could pull it off, maybe he could too!

CHAPTER 15

Sebastian LaMasters never awoke in the luxurious apartment at the Beddington estate. The boxed meal awaiting him upon his arrival at the apartment contained enough drugs to knock an elephant out for days. When the handsome black did finally come out of his drugged stupor, he found himself in a cage where he could neither stretch out or stand up, a heavy metal collar fastened around his neck, his wrists manacled to his neck collar and his ankles fastened to each other with a foot-long chain. He was as naked as when he had laid down to rest at Colonel Beddington's apartment. Little did he know it at the time, but he was now at the Keetman-sloop Slave Training and Sales Center and two rooms away, his long-time customer, Mr. Clint Morgan, was sitting in a much larger cell with several other men watching a huge black fuck a pair of shaved Greek boys.

"Another Beddington property?" he heard someone ask in English.

"Yes, an American, I believe, and totally new to slavery - doesn't even know he's a slave yet," another party answered with a short laugh. "He's a beauty, though. I don't know where the Colonel finds all this new stock, but he sure can pick the lookers, and he's hung like a horse," the party added admiringly.

"Well, he's in for some shocks if he's right off the plane from America," the first party chuckled. "Good thing he's well caged while he mulls his new circumstances over a bit."

Colonel Beddington studied the Polaroid photo attached to the Keetman-sloop receipt for his new property - the former Sebastian LaMasters. The black boy had obviously worked out regularly. You didn't get a well defined muscular body like in the photo without a lot of exercise and sweat. The boy was very good looking - Mr. Singh had been right about that. The Colonel mused that he was as handsome as the models used in women's perfume ads or in ads about exercise machines. And, even flaccid as he was in the photo, the boy was obviously well equipped, even for a male whore where you would expect some outstanding tackle. One hundred grand wasn't bad for stock like this, especially since that weasel Mr. Singh, the whore monger, had assured him this boy had no family and no others around that gave a damn what happened to him. He recalled his conversation with Mr. Singh, a pimp if there ever was one, and concluded that the man was greedy enough to sell him a number of his other 'models' if the Colonel had need of new stock already trained to a large degree in the duties good-looking, well hung slaves were expected to do.

"A handsome piece of slaveflesh," the steward commented to his master as he delivered a fresh cup of coffee, pointing to the photo.

"Yes, he's my other new pony, steward," Colonel Beddington commented. "A black and a white working as a team, but with a new twist," the Colonel laughed. "The new black pony hates the new white pony with a passion. A personal history having to do with a whore getting fucked when he didn't want to be but needed the money. Something stupid like that. But I love the idea of two ponies harnessed with bits in their mouths forced to work harmoniously together when in fact one hates the other with a passion. Adds to the drama of having human ponies. The irony is both of these ponies are going to get fucked plenty by any number of people in that I plan to use both of them as pleasure slaves also, so who fucked who way back when seems so damn silly in their new circumstances," he laughed.

"Yes, master," the steward replied, failing to understand the 'drama' involved. Both of the new ponies were slaves. Slaves, especially good looking ones, routinely got fucked by a variety of people. So what was special about this situation he couldn't imagine, but he was glad his master seemed to be enjoying his new properties so far.

"That reminds me, steward. We need to sell off my current ponies. Sent them to the Tsumeb sales house, which has a big auction coming up next week and put them into the next venue complete with all their fittings. We should be able to get a good price for them, completely trained both for drayage and bed duties - they can be auctioned off either as ponies or as bed bucks or both - whatever brings in the best price. I'm through with them now. If they don't bring a good profit offer at the auction, move them both over to my mining operations. We'll get our money out of them once they're under a steady whip at the mines."

"Yes, master. But has the master considered selling them to a brothel?" the steward asked. "They're fully trained for brothel duty now and we may be able to get top dollar for them without going through the Tsumeb sales house and their commission. There's a brothel in Otjiwarongo that inquired just last week if we had any stock for sale. They knew all the slaves in your service here at the estate are fully trained in providing sexual services. I told them at the time we had no stock for sale right now, but they asked if I would call them if some stock did become available. I have a feeling they would pay top dollar for the two ponies. They are rather magnificent and would bring in a lot of business for a brothel I would think."

"A good idea, steward. Call the brothel in Otjiwarongo before you call the Tsumeb sales house. If the Otjiwarongo folks offer an outstanding price for the boys, sell them on the spot. I need a minimum of $100,000 each for them to cover the costs of replacement, but that shouldn't be a problem for trained stock looking as good as those two. Selling them directly would speed the whole process up and, as you pointed out, would save the commission costs. Besides, I imagine those boys would settle down quickly in a brothel - even I would admit it beats pulling me around full speed all day with a bit in your mouth and a tail sticking out of your ass.. And the night duties would be about the same - just more of it, I suppose."

"Yes, master. I will call the Otjiwarongo people immediately to see if they are interested in the ponies."

A few minutes later, the steward returned, obviously pleased with himself. "Master, I've sold the two ponies as you requested. The Otjiwarongo brothel will pay us $225,000 each for the slaves since they are still young, attractive, fully trained and in peak physical condition. They will pick them up this afternoon with a certified bank draft if that is alright with you, master."

"Indeed it is alright, steward. Good job! By the time the sun sets, those two boys will start a long series of being ridden instead of taking people for a ride," the Colonel laughedat his little play on words. "I doubt if their asses will hurt as much by being ridden with real pricks all night as they did with a big dildo jammed up them all day. They'll probably view their new job as a vacation compared to being one of my ponies," he laughed.

"The brothel owner expressed the same thoughts," the steward remarked. "That's why he thought he could put the new purchases into immediate use."

No one bothered, of course, to inform the slaves being sold of the new direction in their life. Slaves did what they were told and expected to adjust to it, no matter what. That's one reason the whole system was so efficient compared to enterprises still dealing with 'free' employees. In this case, it might even be hard to find applicants for the positions involved without a time-consuming search. Yes, the system worked well!

The next morning found three sets of slaves, all within fifty miles of each other and all intertwined with each others' welfare even though each set knew nothing of the others.

The first set were in a holding pen of the Keetman-sloop slave training center. There were six of them altogether: a blond; an Italian; a huge black; Clint Morgan, the American; and two Greek boys, formerly brothel slaves. All shared sore asses from the fuckings each onel had experienced the day before; all were devastatingly handsome; and all were well equipped for sexual service. The blond, the Italian, and the American all faced rigorous training procedures for their future life; the other three were already well-trained and would be placed up for auction in a day or so.

The second was close to the first, although he was crammed into a small cage several levels below. He too was an American, but his previous life as a whore in a modeling agency would make his sexual training expeditious - it was his training to be a totally obedient, fully subservient slave that would take some time, even with the efficient, time-tested methods generally employed by the Keetman-sloop facility. This new slave was also sexually appealing, well-equipped for sexual service, and handsome by any standard. His name had been Sebastian LaMasters before he had been sold to Colonel Beddington by his pimp. The American slave penned above him was a former customer of his services - service he deeply resented despite the nice pay it brought in.

The third set was fifty miles away near another prominent slave training facility in Otjiwarongo. But the two in this set were already well trained and had been bought directly by a male brothel in this trading center. Last night, their first night under new ownership, had seen both of them fucked by no less than 20 customers, sucking off another 15 customers each, and fucking another 5 customers each who enjoyed utilizing a big stud in this fashion. Their throats and asses were sore from all the usage of last night and their bowels and stomachs sloshed from all the cum in them by now, the 'customers' paying for their services were, for the most part, anything but handsome or appealing, but they reveled in the knowledge they would no longer be hitched to some rig pulling some master around like a draft animal with a bit in their mouth and reins attached to their nose rings. Yes, fate had led them to a better life.

The two new American slaves, one white from the first set and the black making up the second set, made possible the good fortune of the third set. Little did those two realize that the training ahead of him, producing pony slaves who could be used for pleasure when off duty, would mean a huge change in the life of the pair making up the third set, located some 50 miles away, now settling into their new life. Only one person was aware of the interconnections: Colonel Beddington, who now owned the white and black American slaves, and had just sold the pair of pony slaves for full time service in a male brothel.

Two days later, the scheduled auction at Kleetman-sloop included both the pair of Greeks as well as the jet-black African who had been in the holding cell with Clint up until now. When they were taken out of the cell, the three knew they were to be sold that day and said their good-byes to their cell mates of the past few days. The three remaining wished them good luck in finding a new owner that would take good care of them, and the three leaving for sale wished the three slaves remaining good luck in their training.

The three sale items were taken to a preparation room where they were given a series of enemas, completely body shaved, showered, well oiled so their bodies simply gleamed, and then fitted with large butt plugs that would guarantee full erections when they were on the display stands. That done, they were then taken to the display room where they were each fastened to a separate display stand by a short chain leading to an ankle band - the only restraint felt necessary for such well trained, seasoned slaves who had gone through this sales process before several times and which would allow the slaves maximum flexibility in showing off their bodily attributes to interested buyers. Four overhead recessed spot lights, each at a different angle above each display stand brightly illuminated the goods fastened below so all aspects of the slave's body were easily viewed and the heat from these lamps heightened the display by causing the slave to sweat slightly, highlighting his already oiled body. An additional spot light, recessed into the base of the display stand itself, illuminated the bottom of the slave's ballsac, the underside of his erect penis, and his asshole when the slave was bent over for that routine inspection.

The display room that day featured about 60 slaves up for auction. They ranged from the loosely restrained well-trained pleasure slaves like the three just brought up to slaves new to their status who had only received the most rudimentarily of slave training up to this point. This latter group was displayed heavily chained and most were gagged so their howls of protest as the buyers pawed over their bodies was kept muffled. The deeply carpeted air- conditioned display room was open for three hours prior to the action so that potential buyers could look the stock over thoroughly before bidding. In this 'inspection' time, nothing was off-limits as far as inspection of the slave stock was concerned in that it was obvious customers had every right to fully know exactly what they were bidding on later in the day. To make sure all stock was fresh for the display, no slave up for sale that day had been allowed to orgasm in over 48 hours and all had been disciplined, if it was necessary during this pre-sale time, by means that didn't leave marks on their skin. All slaves up for sale had a green 4"x6" card attached to their collar briefly outlining their bodily measurements, their age and country of origin, their genetic origins if they had been bred for market, their time in enslavement as well as their previous occupation if not bred slaves, the amount of slave training they had received up to this point, previous owners and assigned duties, any known diseases or problems encountered with the slave to date, and the minimum bid that would be accepted.

Almost as soon as they had all been fastened in place, all 60 bodies displayed quickly felt strange fingers kneading their muscles deeply, looking for hardness, definition, and possible tearing. Those same fingers checked out their skin for smoothness, scars, burns, and whip tears. Teeth were examined, eyes checked for disease, ears examined for excessive wax buildup, head hair (where still remaining) checked for thickness and texture, and nipples, ears, and noses were checked for swelling, erection potential, and sensitivity as well as the healing from the installation of rings in the tits, ears, and nose for slaves sporting those features. Feet and toes were checked for freedom from defect and the callousing of the soles. But those inspections could be done in just a few minutes as the slave stood perfectly still, opening his mouth, flexing his muscles, lifting his legs, and thrusting out his chest as the buyer indicated, usually with a flick of their fingers. For those being sold as draft or common work slaves, these checks were usually all the slave warranted. For those slaves being marketed as house slaves, personal slaves, body slaves, or pleasure slaves, the examinations were much more extensive and took a good 15 to 20 minutes a slave if a buyer was sincerely interested. This more extensive inspection usually started with a good kneading of the slave's tits to ascertain how quickly they could be aroused and the slave's reaction to having his tits played with, followed by a rough massaging of the slave's balls to determine how well they could tolerate ball churning and to see how full and firm the balls felt after a 48-hour rest period. This was generally followed by placing their full hand around the slave's shaft, stoking it to full erection (if it wasn't fully erect already from the stimulation of the butt plug within them), and then studying the slave's reaction to this more direct stimulation, usually culminating in the slave dripping copious amounts of pre-cum. A prospective buyer could, if they wished at this point, 'milk' the slave to a full ejaculation in order to test for taste, consistency, thickness and quantity of the cum, but most buyers felt they had to be very committed to actually biding on the slave to drain the slave at this point in their inspection. Generally, the next step after a good stroking was to examine the anal chute. The slave was either bent over or ordered to his hands and knees with legs spread as far apart as possible and with his ass tinted upwards so that the asshole was fully exposed and easy to inspect. The butt plug was usually removed by the buyer so he could manually inspect the ass chute and the prostate himself with his fingers, observing the entire time the reactions of the slave being 'finger fucked.' If the slave tolerated this well, the butt plug was usually reinserted fully and used as a dildo to forcefully fuck the slave in position, again to study reactions to this much large intrusion up their ass. If the slave was being seriously considered as a buyer's own bed buck or as a whore to be rented out, the slave could be fucked directly by the potential buyer or put to the test with his sucking skills, either in place on the stand or in a small "try-out" alcove - a feature of every major slave display room known.

For the next three hours, the 60 slaves were put through their paces, their bodies sweating freely under the bright lights and the demands placed upon them. Despite the good ventilation, the room eventually took on the smell of human sweat, pungent hot cum, saliva from dripping mouths devoted to oral stimulation, and pre-cum and ass juices - the natural smells of any market in human flesh being examined in all aspects. Naturally, the best looking, most attractive slaves got the most intense examinations, while the potential work slaves got by with just muscular, bone, and scarring inspections.

The three from Clint's cell up for sale that day all received the most thorough and lengthy intimate examinations since they had been trained and were being marketed as pleasure slaves. The black slave was milked five times over the three hour period in addition to being fucked six times, sucking seven potential buyers until their combined cum was more than a meal, and having his tits played with until they were swollen twice their normal size. The Greek twins were equally busy: fucked five times each; milked to full ejaculation three times; on their knees sucking off buyers seven times; and having their balls and pricks massaged and squeezed until they were chafed and swollen.

Finally, the potential buyer's left the inspection room and moved to the auction room next door which featured luxurious coaches, even thicker carpets, and refreshments served by handsome naked slaves of both genders.

The higher priced items were saved for last in order to hold buyer interest. Therefore, the three slaves from Clint's cell got to witness the actual sale of almost everyone put up for display that day. The work slaves were sold first. Their sales were swift and the bidding usually stopped after the third or fourth bid which was a fraction of what was being asked for them. Once sold, they were promptly taken to a holding pen to be picked up by their new owner at his convenience sometime in the next few hours, dependent on whether their owner wanted to buy other slaves that day or had met their needs in buying them. Within an hour, all of the male and female draft and work slaves were gone, and the 15 or so other types of slaves were put on the auction block one by one. Most of these slaves were young, very well built, extremely handsome, and heavily sexually endowed whether male or female. The few females were sold first - their prices were lower than males in that their training took far less time and they practically gutted the slave markets throughout the world. The males in this category were sold last.

The huge black in Clint's cell was sold first. His buyer was young, not bad looking himself, and obviously extremely very wealthy, surrounded as he was with a coterie of strikingly handsome fully naked 'display' slaves he had accompanying him to the auction. When the black slave saw who bought him, he recognized him as the buyer who had thoroughly fucked him just an hour or so ago in one of the small alcoves off the display room and who then had sucked his black organ until he shot a full load into the master's mouth as an 'afternoon snack' the master seemed to relish. He broke into a broad smile as his new owner claimed him on the spot, fastened a leash to his neck collar, and led him out of the building. Soon he too, he knew intuitively, would be a 'display' slave being led around by his neck leash fully naked to impress his owner's friends and business acquaintances and quite probably frequently loaned out for their use. When not doing that, he would probably be warming the new master's bed - a task he was well familiar with and really didn't mind when the master was as young and good-looking as this one.

"Your duties will involve more than you might have thought," the new master addressed the leashed slave as he led him outside with building as the rest of his 'display' slaves followed dutifully. "In addition to serving as a display and bed buck slave, I also bought you to serve my wife who is most exacting in her demands of male slaves, and to serve stud at my breeding farm."

"Yes, master," the black slave answered delightedly. Yes! Fortune had smiled on him with this sale.

The Greek slaves were sold last, since they, being identical twins of great beauty who were also extremely well trained, were the rarest items offered that day. They were sold at an extremely high price by a high ranking German official - the head of their diplomatic corps. The twins were bought with one purpose in mind taking their background and training as brothel slaves into full account: they were to be used as temporary "gifts" to the representatives of other countries and large corporations concluding sizable trade agreements with the German government. One night they would be in the bed of an aging Russian diplomat concluding a trade agreement on the exportation of natural gas to the German nation; the next night they would be on their knees sucking off a number of Bechtel corporation executives, there to sign an agreement on building a new bridge over the River Rhine. The next night, Halliburton executives would be plowing their asses, a reward for signing a billion dollar construction contract with the German government at a price the Germans could live with. Maybe over the weekend, Toyota executives would be loaned the twins to sexually satiate their temporary Oriental masters in return for an exchange policy where Mercedes-Benzs could be traded for Japanese built merchant ships. The German purchase of the twins was hardly novel, let alone unique in today's world. Almost all major industrialized nations now had available whole stables of well-trained slaves as rewards, bribes, gifts, remembrances, tokens, and mementos sealing multi-billion dollar deals. The costs of the slaves involved as 'gifts' was minuscule compared to the profits inherent in the deals. Large corporations as well as politicians now expected these little side benefits as part of any deal. The huge variety of slaves available in the discrete grey markets of the world today just made it easy to fulfill these expectations. The Greek twins had obviously been sold off to a destiny for which they were ideally suited, both by their breeding and their training, and they beamed in happiness as they were led off the auction block to the holding pens awaiting immediate shipment to the local Germany embassy where they would be "tried out" that very night and then discretely shipped by courier jet to Berlin.

Meanwhile, Clint, the Italian, and Scandinavian slave awaited the beginning of their basic slave training while, close by, the American black also awaited that same training, although the first three slaves had already been fully fitted with tit rings, genital bands, nose rings; branded; and had their slave identification numbers tattooed into their bodies. They had been whipped repeatedly to learn their new status; they had all been fucked repeatedly for the same reason; and had spent little time without a large butt plug forced well inside them. All had served their purpose: these three already knew they were slaves for life; they were nothing more than property; and that their bodies were no longer their own. All three knew they would be obeying every wish and whim of whomever owned them and that their bodies were nothing but vessels for their owner's pleasure, whatever that might entail.

Sebastian LaMasters, the American black a level below them, was nowhere near this level of understanding. Although he had a thick metal collar around his neck and he was stark naked in a cage, he was as sassy and independent as he had been back in the States working for Paradise Modeling. He obviously had a lot to learn in his new life!

CHAPTER 16

The two blacks, until only recently 'pony' slaves of Colonel Beddington, barely had time to adjust to their new life in the Otjiwarongo brothel who had bought them three weeks ago. Two nights ago, one of the recently-purchased 'pleasure slaves' had been rented by a middle-aged man from Saudi Arabia who ordered the black to his knees and, grabbing the slave's nose ring to control his head movements precisely, had the slave suck him as he guided the slave up and down his sizable shaft fully stretching the rented boy's throat in the process. He then positioned the huge black on all fours and, fastening the black slave's nose ring to a hook conveniently located in the headboard of one of the brothel's beds, proceeded to fuck the slave thoroughly while kneading the slave's ringed tits and the slave's massive balls and erect shaft the entire time. Such fondling had led to the black slave discharging huge loads over and over while he was being fucked, much to the delight of the Saudi using him the early part of that evening.

"You're going to a new home," the brothel master announced to the black slave. "I've sold you to the Royal Saudi Oil Company who has decided to add you to their hospitality suite for visiting customers. One of their agents rented you out a couple of nights ago and liked the way you performed," the master complimented the slave. "He made an offer I couldn't refuse," he laughed, "so we'll just have to run our little place here without you - you're just worth too much money to keep you servicing customers here until your bodies are old and worn out. After I told him you had been one of a pair of trained 'ponies' for Colonel Beddington who also served among his favorite bed bucks, the agent decided to also buy your former partner, that other big black I bought along with you. So you two are going to continue to be together," he chortled, "and you'll still be doing what God intended for slaveboys with bodies like yours - whoring - although they call it an 'entertainment suite' rather than a brothel - same thing I'm sure. The agent said Colonel Beddington was a good customer of the Royal Saudi Oil Company and generally utilized the services offered by the hospitality suite when he was their guest, so you're probably going to be fucked or sucking off your former master once in a while. Just no getting away from someone like the Colonel, is there?" he smirked. "Do you miss the good Colonel, slave?"

"I don't miss serving as his pony, Master," the slave said with equanimity, unsure of how much a mere slave should ever reveal anything negative about a former owner, but then added, as an anodyne, "but I didn't mind serving him in bed, Master."

"I would think not, since that's your main function in a whore house," he laughed. "But you and your partner have lucked out twice in a row now - first getting purchased for usage here, and now a Royal entertainment center, no less."

"May I ask a question, master?" the black asked from his kneeling position on the floor in front of his master.

"There's nothing worse than a bothersome slave, but I suppose you can ask a question if it's relevant to how you can be a better slave," the whoremaster snapped.

"Will we be fastened by our nose rings to the beds in our new home like we are here?"

"What in the hell does that have to do with anything," the slave's master shot back, smacking the black slave across the cheek with force. "And how in the hell would I know anyway? If they want to fasten you by your nose ring, then that's the way it will be, slaveboy. We fasten all the whoreboys here that way - it's convenient, the customers like it, and a boy stays right in position that way. If they're smart, they'll hook you by your nose in Arabia just like we do here. You want me to recommend it to them, slave, or were you just mouthing off to waste your master's valuable time?"

The black was bleeding slightly out of his mouth from the strong slap, but managed to try to make amends. Although that was the part of his present situation that he hated the most - being fastened in position by his sensitive nose ring was far worse in his eyes than being fucked by any and everyone who could pay the fee, or having to suck off total strangers until they spilled their cum down his throat - he knew he had made a big mistake by bringing the matter up. "Master, nose-ringing slaves in position for full usage, like you do here, is an excellent idea. The Colonel only used our nose rings to fasten our reins when we served as his ponies - he never used them when we served him in bed. Master, I'm sorry if I was too forward - I just wanted my new owner to be happy with their purchase."

"Make sure you don't mouth off to them like you just did with me, slave. A good owner isn't going to put up with it and I hope they have the sense to beat you senseless if you ever try it with them. But you've made your point, slave. I'll recommend to your new owner that they consider nose-ringing you when you're put to use. I have no idea what their current procedures are, so I don't know it they will consider your request or not, slave."

"Master, I wasn't requesting it...."

"No more of your mouth, slave, or I'll order a good beating prior to your shipment so you learn to use that mouth for sucking, not for telling your masters how to manage their property. It will be a couple of hours before we ship the two of you out in the luggage compartment of the oil company's private jet that will take you directly to your new owners. That gives you a chance to douche yourself thoroughly, body shave completely, oil your hide, lube your asschute, and polish all your rings and bands until they are gleaming. Since you reminded me, I'll fasten both of you by your nose rings to the bars of your shipping cage. That way your new owners will see for themselves how useful those nose rings are. Now, skedaddle and start getting yourself ready for shipment. The trip will only take four or five hours. Getting you shipped out quick means they could have you available for their guests tonight."

"Yes, master," the black said obediently, wondering if his new life would be much different from his present one. At least, he wasn't in harness pulling the Colonel around breathless and with a bleeding back!

Meanwhile, back at the Keetman-sloop Slave Training and Sales Center, Sebastian LaMaster screamed himself hoarse as two huge slave handlers, obviously well experienced in handling 'new' unbroken slaves, first chained him to the wall by his neck collar, placed two bands around his wrists and, stretching his arms as far apart as they would reach, fastened the two wrist bands to hooks in that same wall, making the front of his body totally available to the handlers. When, in his rage, he attempted to spit on the handlers, they calmly forced his mouth open and jammed a thick, six inch dildo down his throat, holding it in position with a tight band fitted around the back of his head. Sebastian gagged and choked on the intrusion down his throat, but to little avail, and eventually learned the only way he could breathe was to stop screaming, stop fighting the gag, and learning to breath around the dildo by relaxing his throat enough to allow the dildo to slide down his throat and past his gag reflex center. He practically passed out for lack of air before he learned how to survive the gag. Only when he stopped fighting the gag and relaxed his muscles a little did the handlers continue.

"There now, slave. It's no different than sucking off a big one and we understand you've done plenty of that as a male whore in the U.S. So just relax and start sucking - you'll find that stops the gagging and makes breathing a lot easier. You sucked off a lot bigger pricks than this little dinky dildo, I'm sure."

Sebastian reluctantly followed their suggestions and quickly discovered they were right. The more he sucked on the piece of plastic, the better he could breath and the less he tried to throw up in the dry heaves. In a minute or two, he was breathing fine and the gagging was completely gone, although his throat ached from the stretching.

"Good boy," one of the handlers said, rubbing his hands gently over the slave's massive pectorals and then down his muscled abs. "Just keep calm and we can get you fitted in no time at all."

The handsome black slave looked at the 'handlers' with panic in his eye. What 'fittings' were they talking about? Then he looked more closely at the 'handlers' assigned to him, obviously slaves themselves since they were collared like he was now. Both sported large metal rings pierced through their big swollen tits, probably swollen because of the rings constantly stretching and irritating them. Both had thick metal bands welded around the base of their balls and their large phalluses, forcing the whole package to protrude outward into an obscene display that made them seem larger than life (especially since both handlers had obviously had all hair on their bodies removed, even all their pubic hair) and very convenient for handling. But the 'fitting' that really marked them was the large three-inch metal ring fastened through the septum of their nose, hanging down over their upper lip and giving them a distinct 'animal' look. Both of the handlers were black like himself, so their bright metal 'fittings' were most noticeable since they contrasted sharply with their black skin.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen, brother, now that Colonel Beddington has entrusted us with his new property," one of the handlers said. "The two of us (pointing to his partner) are slaves ourselves as doubt you figured out from all these slave fittings on our naked bodies," he smiled. "We're specially trained as 'slave breakers.' You know what that means, brother?" using the 'brother' to indicate they recognized the new charge as not only a slave but as a Negro slave like themselves. "Just shake your head yes or no, slave," they added, signaling they knew he couldn't talk with the penis gag in his mouth.

Sebastian stared at them in a rage, but did shake his head negatively as a response.

"Thought not," one of the 'breakers' laughed. "We take new goods like yourself, who are new to slavery and generally resist the whole idea, and mold them into obedient, compliant slaves that willfully do whatever their master wants without a moment of backtalk, refusal, or even resentment. Quite the contrary when we're through with you. We turn you into a slave that seeks out ways to please their master without being told, who are voice- trained to only speak when specifically requested, who are willing to do anything requested of them no matter what, and who are accepting, even happy, with their new station in life. You got all that, slaveboy?"

Sebastian LaMasters struggled in his bonds to voice his strong objections to what he had just heard but the restraints and the gag in his mouth prevented any intelligible response.

"We heard you were an American male model sold by your agency. Translated, that means you were a whore who got himself sold off by his pimp. Selling that pretty black ass and that big snake between your legs to anyone with two nickels to rub together, I imagine. With all the racism in the United States, I suppose most of your customers were white honkeys willing to pay big bucks to live out the historical fantasy of buying a black slave boy to bed down like they did in the Antebellum South 150 years ago. Probably got a white prick up your ass or down your gullet twice as much as serving as a black stud. At least, that's what I experienced when I had a white American for a master some years back. Am I about right, boy?"

The slave bound to the wall glared pure hate at his 'handlers' but finally shook his head affirmatively to the handler's question.

"Thought so, nigger. After a few months to get used to things, I doubt if you'll find your life as a slave all that much different as far as having others using that pretty body of yours - not much different at all, probably. And some things about slavery I think you're going to learn to like, boy. You're not going to have to worry about where your food and shelter is coming from anymore; you're not going to have to be responsible for the decisions made about your life anymore; and you'll find that valuable commodities like yourself are generally pretty well taken care of as long as they do exactly what they're told. And you'll find out that real pretty boys, like you and me, are generally appreciated and admired by not only our masters, but by all their friends and business associates as well. Of course, if you were a whore working for an agency, you're probably used to that part of it already."

Sebastian looked the handler directly in the eye, signaling he understood at least the last part of the handler's statement - the part about being admired for his body's natural appeal.

"To break you in initially, slaveboy, you won't get anything to drink for the next 72 hours and nothing to eat for the next five days. We'll tie off your penis so you can't piss until we say so - generally once a day or so. We'll shave all your hair off and then your new owner can decide what, if any, he wants to let grow back on you. And we'll fit you out just like you see the two or us - both of your tits ringed, your genitals banded properly so they stick way out like ours do and are easy to grab, and a ring through your nose." Turning around to show Sebastian his own branded ass, he added, "and we'll brand you with the house brand that will mark you as a slave and ," turning around, "we'll let whoever buys you decide on his own mark for the brand up here," pointing to the neat brand he and his partner sported on their left pectorals. "And you'll have a 12x5" dildo rammed up you strapped on tight the entire time we're working on you to remind you your ass belongs to whoever buys you. But, I doubt in your case that dildo will be stretching you much like it does with some virgin boys we get - in your case, it will probably just feel like you're back at work again," he laughed. "We'll start all this right now. The water, food, and piss control are to remind you that, as a slave, all of your bodily needs are now controlled by your master and, if you're to survive, you must comply with whatever your master wants. The fittings are to tell you and everyone looking at you, that from now on, your body isn't your own - it belongs to someone else now who will do with it as they want - include decorating it any damn way they please. Oh, and to start you off in the proper frame of mind, we'll give you a initiation beating you'll probably never forget - at least we hope not."

Sebastian LaMasters stared at the bullwhip the other handler grabbed and the monstrous dildo and its restraining straps the first handler got out of a nearby cupboard and broke into hysterical sobbing.

"Typical reaction for a boy new to slavery," the handler said professionally as he calmly tied a tight cord around the new slave's meaty penis, choking off all flow, while his partner plugged in an electric branding iron to start heating up. "Yes sir, nigger, within a week you'll be well into your new life, and ...," he paused, "accepting a good portion of it. Within a month, you will have forgotten all about your life back in that agency when you were free, and within two months we'll have you on an exercise regime that will be shaping your body until you will look like a black Greek god. Within three months, you'll be pulling your owner, the Colonel around, as half of a team of proud ponies and eagerly looking forward to being bedded down as a prize bed buck as well as an admired pony. Yes sir, a whole new life for you," as he reached forward to finger and study the new slave's large nipples.

Sebastian shuddered at the touch of the handler's rough hands on his sensitive tits and felt the bile rising in his throat as he thought about what he had just been told. No way, he though, as he struggled against his bonds once again and tried to shout his protest around the gag embedded in his throat. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and every muscle in his body was strained in his outrage.

Clint Morgan's training was proceeding precisely on schedule. Everyday, he, along with the blond and the Italian slaves caged with him, was exercised to the point of absolute exhaustion. Chained to treadmills by their genital bands as well as their tit rings, they were automatically shocked the minute they slowed down below a 5 m.p.h. rate. This wasn't unreasonable the first twenty minutes or so - after that they repeatedly received excruciatingly painful electrical shocks directly to their tits and genitals the instance they slowed down. After the first hour at this pace, they were each receiving two or three quick shocks every minute in order to 'motivate' them to the demanded pace. Several times, they had simply passed out - from the pain or exhaustion didn't matter - they were still shocked until they climbed back to their feet and continued on the treadmill. By the second week of this training, all of them had considerable more wind and could make it through the first hour with hardly any shocks at all. By the fourth week, they could easily go two hours. By the sixth week, the pace was increased, but still they could go the first hour without too many shocks, although their tits were swollen and sore constantly by their tit rings being leashed to the treadmill and their genitals were also swollen and sore also from the constant tug imposed by their ball sacs being chained to the machine.

Their bodies had mushroomed into their full potential: layer upon layer of muscle had replaced any fatty tissue they once may have had; each muscle group was now clearly defined on their hairless naked bodies; and their tits, now considerably larger due to the ringing, while their naturally large genitals were generally semi-erect at all times - the result of enforced abstinence as well as constant kneading and stimulation. The brands on their body had completely healed, the lesions into their nose and tits were now closed around their inserted rings and were no longer angry red, and all three of them had adjusted to the changed center of gravity caused by their large genitals being forced into an outward, very protrusive position by the genital ring. Even though all three received daily whippings as part of their training, their hide had thickened to the point where the current lash marks were temporary and the network of tearing whip scars of their original slave training had long ago receded into barely noticeable white traces giving their magnificent bodies a well-trained, disciplined look buyers liked to see in seasoned slaves. The butt plugs fitted daily, of ever increasing size, had done their work. Each slave could now easily take a huge prick up their ass with barely a murmur and none of them even thought of objecting when one or another of their trainers and handlers choose to fuck them. Their mouths were similarly well trained: each slave now readily accepted any and all pricks shoved down their throats, swallowing them clear down their gullets so their throat muscles could massage the intrusion within them until, inevitably, the slaves were fed load after load of fresh cum which they eagerly (and in view of their chronic hunger) gratefully swallowed.

Clint's specific sexual training followed the exact procedures used on his cage mates. Both the trainers and the slave handlers were allowed to use any of the trainees caged at the center for their own needs as long as the trainees were kept clean and ready for action. Having a slave suck a handler or one of the trainers didn't dirty anything as long as the slave swallowed the entire load.

"You, slave," one of the handlers shouted at Clint, who happened to be closest to him at the time, "up on your knees with your mouth open for action." [Leon, the handler, actually a trainer in his apprenticeship, had lucked into this position by answering an obscure internet job listing for a "Wrangler of wild livestock - foreign assignment." After an extensive interview, he been chosen for the position for three reasons: (1) his interest and experience in handling livestock; (2) his obvious enjoyment in dominating others; and (3) his strong sexual drives which seemed insatiable and his large, usually at least semi-erect sexual organs, a pronounced advantage in a person in charge of training slaves for sexual service. When the Guatemalan arrived on the scene and was first shown the 'livestock' he was to wrangle, once he was over the shock, he was delighted to find slavery was alive and well in the world - especially slavery of such fine-looking bucks as he saw collared, branded, and caged before him. It was a world he had dreamed about, but never knew existed.]

Clint's neck chain rattled as he assumed the commanded position, familiar to all the slaves that were young and attractive and hence scheduled for training as potential pleasure slaves. The handler, a huge Guatemalan Latino, clothed only in a pair of cotton shorts which he quickly shed, caressed his large uncircumcised organ and thrust his hips forward until it was at Clint's lips.

Clint, like all the other trainees caged with him, was familiar with such demands by this time and wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. He swallowed the Latino's cock to the root in one gulp and began to massage the shaft with his cheek muscles while he massaged the crown with his tongue. The Guatemalan's organ quickly swelled to twice its original size and slid easily down the white slave's well-trained throat. As Clint's throat muscles churned around the insertion, he suctioned until his cheeks hollowed inward and began riding the shaft with his pursed lips as he'd been taught almost immediately after coming to the training center.. The handler began to slowly piston the slave's throat as he held the head being entered steady in his hands.

"Suck, you bastard," he commanded as he ran his hands through Clint's hair. "That neck collar keeps your head up high so you know you're here to suck cock, but keep those throat muscles massaging me just like you've been taught, slaveboy," he counseled as he increased the tempo of fucking Clint's face. Strangely, the former Mr. Clint Morgan still felt shame at being used like this and blushed accordingly, but the Latino trainer either didn't notice or didn't care. He'd probably used most of the slaves under his supervision on many occasions exactly like this and no doubt viewed the caged slaves as little more than objects being appropriately trained for what they were.

Clint concentrated on the handler's commands and within moments, he felt the first of the Latino's spunk slide down his throat. The handler jammed his shaft down the slave's throat as far as it would go as he squeezed the slave's head deep into his groin until Clint couldn't breathe. In desperation, Clint swallowed as fast as he could but subsequent eruptions were even larger and Clint felt the handler's jism back up his throat and into his hollowed cheeks and even his nasal passages. When a guttural roar told Clint the Latino handler was through, he kept swallowing the back-load until the entire emission was safely in his stomach. The Latino's spunk was salty but fresh, thick and tasty compared to the thin, flat, fishy taste of some of the older trainers he had had to suck. Clint remembered, as a result of all his rigorous slave training to date, to scrub the handler's rapidly diminishing shaft with his tongue and a fresh batch of saliva until the Latino handler was completely cleansed.

"You're getting better each time I use you, slaveboy," the handler complimented Clint as he withdrew his shaft from the slave's pursed lips with a loud plop. "Practice makes perfect they say," as he ruffled Clint's hair. "Keep this up and I'll recommend you to the other handlers," he mentioned as he put his shorts back on and quickly buttoned them back up. It was obvious he thought such a recommendation would be the fulfillment of any potential pleasure slave's dream.

Clint heard his cage mates's chains clinking as they adjusted into the straw on the floor of the cage, grateful Clint was closer to the handler in his time of need than they were, but still suffering from their own constant need. Clint's cock was throbbing since the handler hadn't even touched it, but his huge discharge down Clint's throat at least gave his stomach something to work on since none of the slaves in training had been fed since early morning.

After the first few weeks of chronically bucking and resisting other's manipulation of their bodies, the slaves now were totally accepting: anyone could now prod, fondle, pinch, squeeze, or stroke any part of them and they only smiled for now they knew that was the only way they could ever get relief. Kept constantly stimulated, orgasmic relief was a constant goal for any well trained slave - the only way that might happen was through stimulation by others, but even then, only when the master permitted it. It was a paradox for any well- trained attractive slave: their body was constantly sexually stimulated by their masters, yet you had to have the master permissions to relieve the stimulated need.

At first, Clint, along with his two cage mates, resisted any and everything about his training and viewed his existence being 'trained' as an obedient slave as Hell itself. But slowly, with food and water only given as 'rewards' by his trainers, by the constant horrifically painful beatings to establish his identity as a slave, the chronic need to alleviate his constantly stimulated sexual drive (again, only given as a 'reward' for good behavior by his trainers), and his enforced constant nudity and sexual usage, he found himself acquiescing to his new status exactly as his trainers intended. They had been in the business a long time and knew exactly what they were doing. And Clint knew, from witnessing himself all of the Colonel's other possessions doing exactly what they were told, that the methods being utilized worked.

When his two cage mates shared their deep feelings of guilt and shame that they were allowing themselves to slowly sink into thinking of themselves as 'slaves,' Clint shared with them his observations of the Colonel's slaves toiling away in the bauxite mines, the farming operations, and the manufacturing facilities - all kept totally naked; all totally controlled as to how much and when they were fed, watered, or allowed to alleviate themselves; all worked around the clock; all subject to sale to a new owner at any and all times; and all subject to sexual use of their body if their supervisors so desired. Clint pointed out that these slaves were no different than the three of them - most of them had been free at some point in their past; most of them had determined their own careers and lifestyles before being enslaved; all owned their own bodies before they had been sold off. Thousands of these people adjusted to the realities of their new existence and they would have no choice but to do likewise. The blond and the Italian, even more unfamiliar with slavery than Clint had been before their capture, felt the fresh whip marks burning on their back, felt the fresh cum dripping out of their rears where they had just been fucked by some handlers, and felt the tug on their nose rings from being leashed to the bars of their cage. They readily agree with Clint. At this point, they realized their lives were permanently and irretrievably altered. Slaves they were and always would be from now on. Their task now was to insure their existence and not end up in the body parts depot. The only way to do this was to please in every way possible whoever bought them.

In only six months, the Keetman-sloop Slave Training and Sales Center had once again proven it was good at what it did. The blond and the Italian were ready for sale. With their fine bodies, exceptionally large and attractive sexual organs, and handsome good looks, they were destined to be marketed as "pleasure slaves" or "display slaves" if their luck held out. The worse that would probably happen to such good-looking specimens would be sale to a manufacturing or service industry. Clint, already the property of Colonel Beddington, would be shipped back to his owner where, it was hoped, in the daytime he would assume his duties as one of a pair of ponies for the Colonel's personal use in transporting him around his estate and where at night he would serve as a most pleasing bed buck for the Colonel and his guests.

That same six-month training period had exactly the same result on Sebastian LaMasters, the other property of the Colonel. Soon he too would be pulling his owner's drey during the day and offering his ass and mouth for his owner's pleasure during the night. But little did he know that the white man who used to fuck his black ass regularly when he had been part of the stable at Paradise modeling would be harnessed right next to him in pulling the master's drey. ***********

The blond Germanic slave and the beautiful Italian slave caged with Clint proved to be a sensation when placed up for auction and both brought top dollar, especially when they both had readily encouraged high bidding the entire time they were on the auction block by openly flaunting their bodily attributes, including full erections of their massive sexual organs which were thrust out for full display. The slaves' strategy in displaying themselves so wantonly paid off. The blond was sold to an Paraguayan horse breeder of considerable wealth who was branching off into slave breeding. The blond was the first of several studs planned for the massive well-financed operation which was already stocked with hundreds of female slaves who would serve as broods. His new owner planned eight forced matings every 24 hours with the new stud so the blond would have little time to do much of anything else at his new home. The Italian's sale, not yielding quite the price the blond brought, was nevertheless a fortunate placement - his new owner, an English lord living in a remote estate in northern England, purchased him as a personal valet and bed buck for he and his six brothers ranging in age from 17 to 42. Although the Italian would be kept busy, no doubt, it was probably an ideal placement considering the extent of his training at that point. For both slaves, their high sales price would assure good treatment.

Clint's arrival at the Colonel's estate was considerably different this time around. Now he was completely naked and well fitted with the bodily fittings and brands marking him as property. Now he was magnificently muscular without an ounce of flab on him anywhere. His physique and physical condition was beyond anywhere Clint ever thought possible. Now he knew he would be renamed as pleased his owner, his body would be used for the pleasure of his owner and his guests whenever they wanted to use him, and his master was planning to use him as a dreyage animal just like he had witnessed himself on a visit in a previous life. It was impossible for him to remember, at this point in his retraining, that his owner and master, the all-powerful Colonel Beddington, an internationally acclaimed business entrepreneur, had once been his closest friend and confidant. Now he was simply his horse and whore.

But Clint didn't really grasp all that his new owner had in mind for him.

CHAPTER 17

Clint stood obediently as the steward strapped the tight-fitting body harness over his well-oiled torso and then shoved the bit into his mouth and tightened the head harness which made sure it stayed in place, pulling his mouth where his lips met cruelly on both sides. Once that was accomplished and the reins had been attached to his nose ring, he was ordered to spread his legs as wide as possible and bend over so that his asshole was totally available. Clint felt the familiar lubricating gels being shoved up his hole by the steward's long fingers and then, as he now expected as part of his routine, felt the familiar huge butt plug forced inch by inch up his stretched hole - a feeling he was well accustomed to by now despite the fact each time the plug was fitted it initially gave the impression he was going to be split in half. When ordered to stand straight again, the gigantic plug churned within him, massaging his prostate with each small movement of his body and, as was intended, he felt his large prick swell and expand within its tightly constraining genital ring until it projected far out from his body and begin dripping copious amounts of. pre-cum. He was now ready to be fastened to one side of the poles of the waiting two-pony rig.

"The Colonel's going to be pleased with his new pony," the steward announced. "Your body has responded well to the special training - well muscled, good definition, and good wind for one new to the poles. He's wanted a white pony for some time, ever since he got in his head that the former Mr. Morgan would look good harnessed." He winked at the harnessed slave in recognition of his previous status as a house guest when the Colonel had taken him on a ride in the two-pony rig, drawn at that time by two huge blacks slaves, long since profitably sold off to a reputable brothel who then promptly sold them to a Saudi oil company's hospitality suite. "This time around he wants a white and a black harnessed together for the team - your new partner will be joining us just as soon as my assistant finishes getting him into full harness. I understand you may be in for a surprise, slave," as he fastened a short leash to the white slave's nose ring.

Clint could only grunt in reply due to the highly-restraining bit tightly clinched in his mouth but tears spelt down his cheeks in response to the steward's remembrance of his being a house guest of the Colonel in a entirely different life seemingly centuries ago when he was free, well-regarded, and even well-known. But his tearing eyes stared at the steward when a 'surprise' was suggested.

Within a minute, a well-muscled black, completely harnessed in constraints identical to his own, was led into the room by a leash connected to the black's nose ring. The two slaves looked at each other's bodies with curiosity (realizing they looked similar to the body they were staring at) before their eyes met. When the two slaves made eye contact, they were startled and both made gutteral shouts of recognition behind their fitted mouth bits. Standing before Clint in full erect splendor was his favorite and certainly most frequent choice among the many offerings from the stables of Paradise Modeling - the black he had fucked repeatedly over the years at $300 a clip. Although he looked different in the restraints and his body was certainly muscled out considerably, Clint would recognize him anywhere - especially naked and erect as Clint had seen him most often before bedding him down in the luxury of his estate's bedroom. The black being recalled had no trouble recognizing his former customer - a rich honky who fucked him so hard every night he had seen sent to the rich man's estate that his ass was sore and ached for days after each session, not taking into account the sore tits that were frequently chewed on and the swollen balls that the white man loved to squeeze and churn in his hands hour after hour - all for the lousy $150 he got out of the deal. But, at the time, he had to have the money, and so consented year after year to being roughly raped and groped by the rich white man, swearing each time he was used once again that some day he would get his revenge. Staring at the naked white slave in front of him being held tautly by the leash in his nose ring, he sensed his day of revenge might be at hand. He smiled broadly, despite the bit biting into his mouth.

The steward saw the smile on one slave's face matched by the astonishment on the other slave's face and he too broke out in a smile as he reached forward and tugged sharply on one of the white slave's tit rings, twisting it slowly and deliberately until the slave grimaced in raw pain, a muffled scream issuing from deep in his throat. "Meet your new partner, ponyboy," the steward announced. "Like I said, a white and black pony hitched up together - just like the Colonel wanted. The white pony, a former friend and business associate of the Colonels; the black pony, the former paid whore of the white pony, who resents to this day being fucked by the arrogant white honky that was his former customer. Ah, the Master certainly knows to add drama to an otherwise rather boring routine of slaves simply performing their duties."

Turning to his assistant holding the black slave's leash, he asked, "Did the black perform well in your bed last night when you put him to the test?"

"Yes, steward. He's obviously been well trained, but I expected nothing less in view of his background as a whore when he was free. It's hard to tell, of course, whether it is his schooling at the training facility or whether it is his experience as a paid whore, but the end result is he is most skilled and seems most eager to please no matter what is asked of him. I suspect most of the training time was spent on producing this spectacular body and getting him use to his duties as a pony in harness." He ran his hands over the black's massive shoulder and rump muscles to illustrate his point.

"Does he suck well?" the steward asked professionally.

"Definitely, steward," the assistant responded. "You should put him between your legs the next time you would enjoy being drained."

"I'll do that," the steward promised, looking directly at the black's handsome face and magnificent body held in full display, adding, "how would you like to fuck this white slave I've got leashed, slave?"

The black, Sebastian LeMaster before his enslavement, stared at his former customer, now fully displayed, and nodded his head at the steward to indicate he would like just that. The black's prick swelled even bigger and more pre-cum oozed out of the tip as he visualized fucking the very person who had ravished his body night after night without ever so much as asking his name, inquiring as to whether he liked being fucked or not, or what he thought of the same white man requesting his services over and over, month after month. He deeply resented being treated as just a pleasure object instead of real person by the arrogant white customer - it was obvious he was just a piece of good looking flesh to the honky who had paid for his services night after night. A slave expected to be treated like that - after all, they WERE a piece of property - but a free man forced to sell his body to make a living? Intolerable arrogance. He was going to love raping the white man with the same tenderness and consideration shown him while he was a 'model' turning tricks for Mr. Singh's agency. Now that that he WAS a slave, he didn't resent having his body used for pleasure - after all, that why slaves like him were purchased. But that is entirely different than back in the States when he was free and got no respect - he certainly wasn't a slave then and yet he was certainly treated like one by this arrogant white man who probably treated all blacks like that.

Clint shivered as he studied the look of pure hate directed at him by his fellow pony and instinctively knew that, if allowed, the black's rape of his body would be a torment, if not life-threatening. He felt sick with dread.

"Ah, I see you two have met," the Colonel said brightly as he entered the room. "Steward, hitch them up to the poles and we'll take a trial run to see how well their training has taken hold. Then, if they do as well as their trainers assure me they should, we'll have ourselves a little show. How would that suit you and your able assistant, steward?"

"Very well, Master," the steward said, keeping his eyes to the ground in the presence of his master, but keeping a firm grip on the white slave's nose-leash.

"Good. If the slaves earn this little break with a decent job, I had in mind starting with having you remove the white slave's butt plug, than having the white get down on all fours with his ass positioned up in the air for a good fucking, and then having the black slave drive that big pole of his up the white's ass while we study his reactions to a good fucking. We could follow that by having the white suck the black off to study his sucking skills and then see where we go from there."

"An excellent plan, Master," the Steward responded. "If they earn such a privilege, of course," he added.

Without further ado, both ponies were hitched to the poles, their nose rings were fastened to the Colonel's reins and the Colonel's whip slashed across their rumps as a signal to start. Both ponies leaped into action and the rig quickly gained speed as the 'ponies' spurted ahead. Within a minute or so, they were at full speed, their breathing was becoming most audible, and sweat was beginning to pour off their oiled bodies.

"Faster, you bastards," the Colonel growled as his whip lashed across the slave's shoulders and backs, leaving raw red weals in their wake. Both slaves lunged forward at a faster pace, their breath now gasps, and a frantic look evident in their eyes, as the butt plugs churned inside them to where it felt like they were being fucked by an elephant and the reins hooked to their nose rings pulled at the tender septum until the pain was excruciating. Their huge erect genitals, gratefully uplifted by the genital ring, nevertheless swung from side to side, slapping on their upper thighs as the pace continued until their pricks felt numb. Their chests heaved as their lungs struggled for air.

The Colonel continued the pace for a while, using the whip repeatedly on the rump, shoulders, and back to make sure the slaves under harness were driven as hard as possible. Then, seemingly satisfied, he jerked on their nose reins to turn the rig back toward the estate. Both slaves screamed in agony despite their mouth bits from the pain caused by the constant tugging on their nose reins. Nevertheless, the pace never slowed for fear of even more punishment and the rig glided back to where it had started as the hitched slaves sunk to the ground in utter exhaustion, gasping for air.

"They need further conditioning, of course," the Colonel commented at the slaves struggling for air in front of him. "But, overall, not bad for a first run," he added as he stepped out of the rig and, ordering both slaves back on their feet, ran his hands over the white slave's banded genitals.

"Mr. Clint Morgan," he said as he slowly stroked the white slave's still erect organ, "I told you some time ago you'd look mighty fine hitched to the rig and I don't think you believed me - in fact, you got somewhat angry at me and you were quite resentful I should even suggest such a thing. Well, here you are, a slave I haven't decided to call 'Pony' or 'Clint' yet - I always liked your first name - and, once again I was right, wasn't I - you make a magnificent pony now that you've been put through some decent conditioning and properly trained. You look good standing there harnessed to the poles and with your prick standing out so proudly on display. I told you so, didn't I, slave?"

"Yes, master," Clint muttered the best he could behind his tight mouth bit.

"Of course, it didn't happen by chance or choice, did it, slave?" the Colonel added.

"No, master," Clint again muttered his response with his eyes properly lowered in front of his owner.

"Indeed not, slaveboy," the Colonel responded. "But slavery makes a lot of things possible you never would have dreamed of, doesn't it Mr. Morgan?"

"Yes, master," the white slave answered in total honesty, having witnessed the marvels of change possible by slavery in his own case certainly. A few tears ran down his cheeks.

"Are those tears of gratitude, slave?" the Colonel asked, reaching up and wiping the tears off the handsome slave's face. "See, I always said you'd make a fine pony and here you are proving me right. You have every reason to be overcome with gratitude. If I had been proven wrong, you, no doubt would be in the process of being chopped up for body parts back at the training facility. So I can see where you are most grateful," the Colonel concluded. "But your gratitude really should be directed at the steward here, who introduced you to your new status, and your handlers at the training facility who spent a lot of time and energy literally whipping you into shape. Have you told them how grateful you are, slave?" the Colonel prodded.

"No master," the white slave responded, expecting to be beaten for his lack of manners.

"Well, tell the steward and his assistant now, and you can get down on your knees and thank your trainers the next time you see them - probably when I'm picking up some new slaves who have just completed their training and I take you as a display slave for my pleasure. Steward, remove both slave's nose reins and their mouth bits and then remove their body harnesses. That way the white slave can express his gratitude to you more easily.

"Yes, master," the steward said as he and his assistant quickly 'unhitched' the two slaves from the rig.

Instantly, the white slave sunk to his knees in front of the steward as an act of obeisance and, with lowered eyes, told the steward how grateful he was for all the attention he had received in being introduced to his slavery.

"Yes, it does help you adjust to your new status readily," the steward acknowledged the slave's thanks. "But tell me, slave, was it the body fittings, the branding, or the fuckings that helped you the most?"

"All helped me, steward. For all I am grateful."

"Well said, slave," the steward said. "Just don't forget the lessons or they will need to be repeated."

"No, steward," the white slave replied with a shudder.

"And you, Sebastian LaMasters, my black slave?" the Colonel asked. "Are you grateful as well?"

"Yes, master," the beautiful muscled black answered, "but I think in my case the beatings from the trainers were more instructive than the constant fuckings. I was used to being fucked constantly long before my slavery," the black added with a small chuckle.

"Indeed you were, slave," the Colonel responded, "if Mr. Singh reported your background accurately. I know the steward's assistant has just confirmed how skilled you are in taking a good fucking."

"Yes, master," the black acknowledged.

"But now, Sebastian, we're going to see how good you are when you're the one doing the fucking for a change. Would you like that? Especially with this white who has certainly fucked you enough over the past few years."

"Yes, master, I would like it very much," the black panted in anticipation as his large organ got even larger and begin spilling out a fresh batch of pre-cum.

"Then, white slave, on your hands and knees with your ass up in the air for a good fucking. And you, black slave, get on top of that white and fuck him until we tell you to stop. But, mind you, don't shoot off. We want to save your load for the white sucking you dry after we've watched you fuck him good and hard."

"Yes, master," the black said gleefully and without hesitation mounted the white slave in front of him and, ramming his huge rod all the way in without any preliminaries, began pounding the white slave's ass unmercifully.

Clint had been repeatedly fucked by numerous trainers and handlers since being made a slave, of course, so he was well opened for anal usage. But Sebastian LaMasters pounding into him was something else. The ferocity and savagery in taking his ass was almost barbaric and Clint was reminded of the primal origins of man in his rape. He remembered the many times he had fucked this animal rutting into him now and could feel the revenge element of his thorough fucking. Although he realized he would end up bleeding and sore for days, he wasn't sure he didn't deserve it! Slaves were routinely fucked, he realized by now, so another fuck to make right the past didn't seem too out of line. Pound on, Sebastian LaMasters, he thought to himself - and get all that revenge out of you. Especially if I have to serve side-by- side with you every day hitched to that damn rig as a pony.

After an unrelenting 15 minutes of unparalleled pounding (which seemed like two hours to the one being pounded), the black slave yelled out, "Master, I can't hold it any longer. I'm going to shoot, master." The small audience, made up of the steward, his assistant and the Colonel, had all been transfixed by the performance in front of them and it took a while before they were drawn back into the present.

"No you're not, you black bastard," the Colonel said bemusedly. "You're going to pull your monster dick out of that sore bleeding asshole and stand up so the white slave can crawl over and suck you off properly. But you make sure he takes it all the way down his throat, Sebastian, and that he swallows every last drop. Your hear me, slave?"

"Yes, master," the black, panting from his exertions, responded as he jerked his huge prong out of the white slave's ass and got to his feet, his slimy swollen phallus pulsating in front of him. As the white slave got into position kneeling in front of him with an opened mouth, he grabbed his former customer's head with both hands and jammed his prick completely down Clint's throat as he heard the slave choke and gasp for air despite all the training in oral service he had undoubtedly received over the past few weeks. Within minutes, he was spilling load after load of hot cum down the white's throat directly to his stomach. Only when he was completely drained did he slowly begin to extricate his full 13" from the throat that had gripped him so tightly, literally milking him until his balls were empty.

"Thank you, master. Thank you," was all the black slave could say as he slumped to the floor in total exhaustion. "Thank you, master. I haven't been allowed to relieve myself in over a week, master. Thank you."

"Well, I should think you'd thank me, you black bastard. It's not everyday a slave gets to fuck another slave and then have that same slave suck his balls dry. Let's just hope draining your balls doesn't slow you down pulling the rig around tomorrow. If so, let me assure you, that's the last time we'll ever let your balls get drained," he warned. "Now get up and go take a shower and lube your ass. The steward would like you in his bed tonight - he hasn't had a chance to sample what you have to offer yet."

"Yes, master," the black said without emotion as he got up and hurried to the showers as ordered.

"And make sure the steward isn't disappointed with your services, Sebastian," the Colonel warned. "If not, I'm sure I don't have to remind him to beat you senseless until you learn what being a slave around here means."

"No, master," the black slave answered, fear evident in his voice as he hurried toward the showers.

"And you, Clint, stop smacking your lips over your supper and get your ass in the showers with the other pony. Lube up, oil your body, and report to my bedroom suite within 10 minutes. I seem to be the only one around here who hasn't fucked you yet. It's high time I did so, don't you think?"

"Yes, master," was all the exhausted Clint could reply as he too struggled to his feet and hurried to the showers.

A half hour later, Clint found himself once again on all fours being fucked. The Colonel had mounted him "for maximum penetration" as he put it and enjoyed the position as it allowed him to simultaneously play with the white slave's tits as he was fucking him. Although Clint's ass was stretched and sore from being vigorously fucked by the black slave just minutes before, he knew he had no option but to accept this as part of his slavery and try to please the Colonel with his performance to avoid further "instruction" from the steward which would undoubtedly be extremely painful.

As it turned out, Clint was not the only slave being fucked at that very moment. Just a few doors away, the black pony's sexual skills were being put to a rigorous test in the steward's bed despite his recent draining. A thousand miles away, in Saudi Arabia, the former ponies of the Colonel, the big muscular blacks, were both on their knees sucking away on the thick pricks of some clients of the Royal Arabian Oil Company, their third set of clients to be serviced this night so far and the night was young yet. And even more distant, Clint's old cellmates, the Greek twins, were entertaining a delegation of Chinese diplomats at the German Embassy in Berlin where a private dinner was in progress and all parties were already stripped naked and the slave twins were pressed into being fucked for the fifth time that evening, this time draped over the dinner table itself. Another one of Clint's former cell-mates, the huge blond sold to a Paraguayan breeder, was humping yet another 'mare' selected by his owner, the fourth humping of the day. Still another former cagemate, the handsome Italian slave, was serving his master at dinner, the English Lord and his many brothers, stark nude as usual, and just at that moment, was being 'milked' by the Lord for a hot cum sauce that would serve as a fresh condiment for the fine roast beef with Yorkshire pudding the slave had just served. After dinner, the Italian slave would be fucked by three of the brothers and suck off the other three if this day was to be like all others. And, closer to home, the huge black who had been across from Clint in the delivery van and was the first to fuck him once they were caged, had found his sale to the handsome Arab as adventuresome as his new owner had hinted. After being 'displayed' all day by his owner's wife while doing her shopping (and in the process being repeatedly fondled by both his mistress' friends as well as male friends of her husband), he was once again 'pleasuring' his mistress in her bed with his long tongue which he knew would soon turn into the demand to mount him for a thorough fucking where he would not be allowed to discharge even after she reached full satisfaction because he would then be sent to his master to service him however he wanted that particular night. Tomorrow, the master would display him to his friends and colleagues and the whole process of being fondled, groped, and then sexually used would start all over again - for the slave it wasn't a bad life, the black thought - at least compared to what his previous owners had demanded.

After the Colonel had thoroughly fucked his new white ponyslave and deposited his ball's contents deep into the slave's bowels, he turned to look at his new possession face to face.

"Clint, you don't really think I just intended to use you as a pony and pleasure slave, did you? You're far too valuable for just that, although I intend to use you extensively in both positions in that you seem to have considerable talent in both areas. But I have far more extensive plans for you than just that."

Clint stared at the Colonel and wondered what was next in his life.