DISAPPEARANCES
by Bill Smith
[If you are new to the DISAPPEARANCES series, the story below story needs to be read in the context of the introduction which was previously posted with Case. No. 1. As usual, I would appreciate your comments on this story at anonymous4371@juno.com. Thanks. Bill Smith]
Case No. 3:
[The third story is about a handsome soldier from Bosnia-Herzegovina who was captured by the Serbs and never heard of again.]
I was 20 when a government agent arrived at my parent's small farm and delivered in person my induction notice into the army. I wasn't surprised. Everyone I knew was either already in the Army or expected to be in the next few months. Told to report at the nearest village police station the very next noon where a truck would be waiting for me and about 16 others from that province, I was given a sheet listing my new address, a notice that the only clothes I would need would be one change of civilian clothes, and that everything else, even a toothbrush, would be furnished.
My mother cooked me a "last meal" of all my favorites, my father gave me his prized wrist watch to "remember him by," and my most recent girl friend gave me her body to enjoy once again but this time "all night" if I promised to always use a fresh condom each time I entered her.
The next morning, well fed, wearing my father's wrist watch, and feeling tired and totally drained from fucking all night long, I trudged down with my one change of clothes in a small paper sack to the local police station.
There I waited alongside the other 16 who had been drafted, all about my age and with the classic Bosnian good looks that belied our common heritage (straight noses, thick black hair, high cheekbones, deep set dark eyes, pronounced jaw lines usually outlined by well- trimmed pencil-line beards, and well-defined muscular bodies without an ounce of fat on them), we chatted with each other about what Army life would be like, how much we hated the Serbs, and what we were going to do for sex with our girl friends left behind. We joked about the low pay, the ill-fitting uniforms, the antiquated weapons we would be issued, and the half-drunk officers that were legend when talking about the country's armed forces.
The Army truck arrived and within two hours we were at our "training camp" which was dilapidated, had only the most basic supplies of a well for fresh water, a mountain stream for washing and taking a crap, a large tent serving as a mess hall where we were fed only twice a day, and some ragged tents to sleep under. We were issued guns rumored to have been manufactured in the late 1950s along with 10 bullets each which we had to keep in our pants pockets for lack of a proper ammunition belt. The training consisted of learning how to load the old guns, how to fire them, and how to recognize symptoms of dysentery, dehydration, gonorrhea, and impetigo, an old disease associated with severe uncleanliness. Other training consisted of admonitions against use of uninspected whores who were probably disease-ridden, of jerking off which would decrease our energy as well as our fighting spirit, and the mere thought of desertion no matter how bad the food got or how many of our buddies got killed in the forthcoming battles. After all, we were defending our country against the 'heathen mongrels' as the Serbs were usually called and our families were depending on us for their protection from being raped and tortured into abandoning their sacred religion which would assure a perpetual Hell for them.
Within a week, we were in a three day march to the front lines which were as bloody as they were disorganized. A day after arriving there, 40% of my regiment had been slaughtered, another 50% were badly injured, but uncaptured, and had been trucked back to the training center, and the remaining 10%, including me, were captives of the 'heathen mongrels.'
As the Serbs herded their fresh captives into a 'holding pen,' we were each issued two hard biscuits that were foul tasting but were at least eatable if you had good teeth, a plastic bottle of fresh water, and an old newspaper to use as a blanket. That night we managed to get some sleep since the weather was warm and we were too tired to do anything else.
Unbeknownst to any of us, the Serbian government financed their war against us by selling off their captives to the underground market in slaves instead of incurring the expense of feeding, clothing, and sheltering them as was called for in the Geneva Conventions. The profits where so great from this enterprise they were not only able to buy the latest and best equipment for their army but had enough left over to finance a good part of their normal government costs as well, thus lowering taxes for their populace. In fact, most Army salaries (including hefty bonuses for the officers) came out of these funds which insured the officers and the troops under them took great interest in getting the greatest number in the best shape possible to the appropriate markets. The humane part of this practice was that fewer captives were killed in that they were considerably more valuable as merchandise to be sold; the downside was that their own soldiers could expect the same treatment or worse if they were captured although, as far as I knew, Bosnia wasn't into the slave trade yet.
The next morning, we were told to strip and put all of our uniforms and underclothing into a large plastic barrel they had placed by the front gate of our pen. They then sprayed us with a firehouse until most of the dirt was off us and we were pretty beat up from the water pressure but we were given a couple more of those biscuits and another bottle of water as we tried to dry our bodies off in the breeze. We assumed an issue of prisoner-of-war clothing would be issued shortly to cover our nakedness.
Instead, a large naked worker of some type entered and painted a large two digit number on each of our backs as we stared at the heavy metal collar around his neck and the fact that all the hair had been shaved off his body, even the hair around his manhood which made him look very weird - like a boy with a grown man's equipment. He didn't look like the typical Serb so we assumed he was Greek or Russian or maybe even a Romanian. As we looked up, we saw a number of men and even a few women climbing up to the guard towers surrounding our pen, each clothed like civilians and each with a pair of binoculars along with a pen and pad to write things on. As soon as they had ascended the towers, they spent their time studying us through their binoculars, occasionally jotting something down on the note pads they carried. Those of us in the pens, still damp in spots from the hosing, tried to cover ourselves as best we could with our hands, especially when we saw women's binoculars trained right at us, but as this went on for well over an hour, we soon got tired of this game and gave up trying to cover our privates, just blushing and feeling humiliated as we thought of these strangers ogling us for God knows whatever reason.
After an hour or so, some Serbian soldiers entered the pen fully armed and with huge bull whips in their hands. They ordered us via a loudspeaker to run around the perimeter of the compound at full speed if we didn't want to feel their whips cutting our backs open. After demonstrating they meant business by slashing across a couple of the captives with their whips until their backs turned red from all the blood and their screams of pain echoed throughout the compound, that's what we did, despite our embarrassment of running around in front of a bunch of observers, including quite a few women, with our pricks and balls bouncing around between our legs.
After a good 15-minute run until our bodies glowed with sweat, we were ordered to line up face forward with our legs spread and our hands in back of our necks. After standing like that for a good 15 minutes, we then were ordered to turn around in place, again keep our legs apart and with our hands in back of our necks, and stood in that position for another 15 minutes. Those up in the towers observing us with their binoculars never left and the glint of their binocular lenses were about all we could see of them other than it was obvious they were jotting down things on their pads from time to time.
The observers eventually moved down the steps of the towers and disappeared. Then one by one, two digit numbers were called out and told to go to a side gate where a couple of guards escorted them away to a large warehouse about a block away. We were surprised they still weren't issued any clothes but assumed that was what they were being taken to the warehouse for. We couldn't tell since none of those escorted away ever returned.
Eventually, my number was called and since I couldn't see it on my back or ever been told what it was, I had to rely on others in the pen to prod me when I was summoned. As soon as I entered the 'warehouse,' I found out what happened to all the observers. They were now in small groups crowded around some captive that matched the number written down in their little pads - a fact evident since they frequently checked the number on my back with the number they had written down. My number matched the numbers written down, apparently, by six men and two women, all eager to get a close-up inspection of my body. Other captives scattered around had groups as little as two and as big as twenty crowded around them for a better look which I quickly found out included a hands-on appraisal once we had our wrists tightly shackled behind our backs, our legs hobbled by a rod fastened to each ankle which forced our legs wide apart, a tall metal collar locked around our necks which forced our heads up and forward at all times, and a plastic gag forced in our mouths and held there by a band around our head.
The group around me lost no time in feeling every muscle in my body, stroking my cheeks, squeezing my tits until they were bright red and erect, and fondling my penis until it too, despite the circumstances, was fully erect and hard while simultaneously hefting up my balls and juggling them in their hand as if they were weighing them. While doing all of this, I writhed and twisted and screamed behind my gag in a futile objection, but heard them shouting out bids against each other as the assessment continued. Finally, when they stopped trying to outbid each other, an Army officer identified the high bidder and took both him and me over to a nearby table where cash quickly changed hands, receipts were scrawled out, and a leash was fastened to my neck collar as the ungainly leg separator was replaced with a more orthodox pair of ankle shackles so I could again walk more or less normally. A key capable of removing the collar, wrist, ankle, and gag restraints was handed to the person holding the receipt and... I suddenly realized with horror.. I was his!
Around me all other captives were in the same predicament. The handsome lad right next to me had a older woman holding his neck leash; a man in back was dragged away by a black man, a rarity in these parts; and a man in front had an Italian man no older than himself leading him away. Still others seemed to have Americans taking their high bid, a Middle Easterner in a full length robe had a blond man in his late 20s, a stern looking woman had a leash in each hand, both attached to extremely handsome boys no older than 18 or so; a dark rotund man looking like he came from Latin America had another couple of young boys in tow; and a dark skinned man I heard say he was from Los Angeles had a very muscular green eyed man that looked to be in his early twenties on his leash.
Over in one corner were a few who had no leash on them and were still wearing their leg separator so they had to squat in position. Since there were no observers around them now, I assumed no one had bid enough to get them. No doubt the Serb Army officers had minimum prices they expected and if they didn't get them today, they might at the next big offering. But an overheard conservation quickly told me the Serbs didn't have that much patience. I found out those in the corner hadn't received a minimum bid, all right, but there was to be no second observation. Once all of the rejects were collected for the day, they would be sold off as a lot to a contractor who was only looking for draft labor anyway - the Army would get cash in hand that day; the contractor would get lots and lots of labor at minimum cost and where little training or supervision would be needed since these boys would be worked in chain gangs under a whip at some out-of-the-way secret work site far from their native land until the last ounce of energy had been extracted from their bodies.
The nicely clothed people talking about this, obviously buyers, mentioned these facts as if everyone in the world was well aware you could buy people as easily as you bought a sack of flour, that these bought people were not only used for their labor - they were talking about chain gangs as casually as my parents would talk about the weather - but it was obvious from our 'inspections' that many people were bought with their sexual potential in mind. I, on the other hand, had never heard of slavery outside of a history book, had never seen a slave back in Bosnia-Herzegovina, and had never heard from our Army training of that possibility if we were captured. I had certainly never heard of slaves being bought for sexual purposes (outside of some wild Roman history novels based on possible events over 2000 years ago). Standing there stark naked, with a collar around my neck attached to a leash, watching people buy humans like cattle was absolutely surreal - like almost all the other captives, I couldn't believe what was happening or that I was there. The shock of it all made me both speechless and inactive - the usual response looking at all the others standing there meekly with a collar around their neck staring straight ahead almost catatonic with tears streaming down most of their cheeks. Only a few were rebellious and trying to lash out at this appalling situation, but they were quickly gagged and were, of course, shackled like the rest of us so their muted protests didn't change the situation in any way.
I stayed there long enough to see those ex-soldiers destined for the labor gangs led away shackled together in a long line by their neck collars. Each one was closely chained to the one in front of him with no more than a foot between them so it was hard for them to keep their pricks from rubbing against the butt of the soldier in front of them as a whip landing on their shoulders urged them on hurriedly. It was their introduction to life in a chain gang, a situation, I was to learn later, that wouldn't change for most of them until death from overwork, excessive discipline, disease, and poor food brought release from the chains closely binding them to their colleagues. I remembered reading about the agricultural slaves the Romans used extensively on their latifundas (plantations) who were also worked in chains under a heavy whip and how short their life spans were estimated to be. We were taught in school that the area now called Bosnia-Herzegovina was a major source of slaves for the Roman markets and, as I watched the newly-collared captives led away, I thought how little the world had changed in 2000 years if all I was witnessing was actually true. I was jolted back by the voice of the man who had 'bought' me.
"Time to get you properly prepared," he said as he summoned over a couple of huge muscular Serbians. They quickly demonstrated they were well experienced in what they did. This pair of "preparers" promptly strapped me down to a "prep table" and gave me three enemas in succession rather roughly until I "ran clean" as they said, scrubbed me thoroughly with hot soap and water, shaved off all the hair on my body below my necks, trimmed my head hair to a 1" crew cut with some electric clippers, fitted me with a new chrome collar which this time was welded on permanently, and finally, tattooed me with an identification bar code on my right forearm and burnt a small "ownership mark" onto my left butt cheek.
While this was being done to me, it was simultaneously happening to dozens of other captives, each with two 'preparers' working on him. Despite our shock and shame, all of us screamed and howled throughout the entire process until we either fainted, didn't have the strength to scream any more, or realized our protests only amused the Serbs working on us. I had never had anything enter my ass and when the enema nozzle first entered me, I screamed in protest and humiliation to absolutely no avail. When my pubic hair and fine mop of head hair (of which I was very proud) was quickly modified, I felt my manhood slithering away with it But it was having a collar welded around your neck that sunk home I was undergoing a drastic change in my status and was being treated as no different than an animal. But what really cut to my soul was when I was branded just like the cattle we had back on our farm. I realized then I was now just property. Before I was released from the prep table, a large well lubricated plastic dildo was forced all the way up my ass until it was fixed in place.
With a freshly burnt ass, a body devoid of any hair just like a baby, a slave property bar code permanently inked into my arm, and now a huge dildo rammed up my ass, I was leashed and handled back to the man who had 'bought' me. The dildo forced me and all the others similarly 'prepared' to walk splay-legged.
"Thank God you've been properly trimmed or we'd have to wait around for you to heal," he commented as he motioned to a nearby captive who was strapped down tightly to a prep table screaming in terror while one of the Serbs carefully razored off his foreskin ."Where you're going, everyone wants their boys trimmed," he added as he led me out of the building, shackled my wrists behind my back, gagged me, and then forced me into a cage built into the interior of a delivery truck where two other captives were already imprisoned with the dildos jutting out of their backsides and their own gags in place.
After a short ride, the three of us were stuffed into the cargo area of a small Cessna turboprop and about five hours later felt the plane hit the airstrip of someplace very hot. As soon as the plane stopped, the three of us were placed into another open delivery truck that really was nothing more than a big cage behind the cab. Anyone looking at the truck speeding down the road could get a complete view of its naked contents which made us wonder just where in God's name we had been taken.
The answer was made apparent no more than 30 minutes later when we were unloaded inside a large tent in the middle of some desert and placed in a holding pen while swarthy looking men in long robes armed with bull whips stood guard around the 20 or so now in the pen. As soon as were added to the others and greetings were exchanged between our 'owner' and his friends, the auction commenced.
One of my fellow soldiers on the airplane with me was placed on a small stage no more than 3' high so all in the audience could see him. He was about 18, blond, and green eyed with a muscular build, very striking good looks, and exceptionally large sex organs. The minute he was on the stage, a murmur of appreciation spread throughout the audience and I saw him shudder as he realized every eye was examining him in detail. The auctioneer reached down and stroked him until he was fully erect, turned him for the entire audience to see him aroused, and then whirled him around, bent him over at the waist, and casually inserted his third finger well up into the boy's ass as he gasped and then buckled in protest.
"Easy boy," the auctioneer said his first words in English as he jerked the boy's leash and smacked his whip across his rump as a reminder of who was in control. "Every buyer expects to see a boy's hole opened up when he is being sold."
That said, the boy was again jerked around by his collar until he was once again facing front and told to thrust his pelvis out to best display his organ. When he failed to do so instantly, the auctioneer lashed the boy harshly across his rump whereupon the boy compiled with the command with a sharp yelp which amused the audience.
He was sold within three minutes and delivered to his new owner.
Second up on the stage was my other flight companion and fellow soldier - a brown hair man of about 22 with rugged good looks, bulging muscles, and who had a nice 7" very thick prick even flaccid and big low-hanging balls swinging between his legs. Despite the fact he was older that the soldier just sold, he was totally humiliated at being publicly displayed like this and was bright red and sweating in shame as he was displayed front and back to the audience. When the auctioneer stroked him to a full erection (11" in his case), he gasped and started crying right there in front of everyone. This seemed to only add to his appeal in that the bids quickened and within minutes he too was led to his buyer, the same one who had bought the green-eyed boy.
Next a couple of blacks were sold off. Both were jet black, probably from Central Africa somewhere and were huge - all over. They were fine-looking specimens who obviously had been slaves before - there were a few whip scars on their backs and rumps, their necks were permanently chafed from numerous collars fitted to them, the rings through their tits looked like they had been there for years, and both of them had thick bands welded around their gigantic genitals to insure they showed off well and were easy to grab. Neither one displayed the slightest bit of embarrassment or shame at being displayed like this, and when stroked to the erection these buyers seemed to demand, they thrust their pelvis out as far as they could to make it easy for the auctioneer with a huge inviting smile on their face as if they welcomed it. Quickly, I learned they did welcome it - both shot a full load after only a few strokes right into the audience with a roar of relief and appreciation. Those two were sold to the same man seated at the back of the audience and they quickly joined the two already sold beside their new owner.
Next I was jerked by my collar onto the stage and had to display myself in the same fashion despite my abhorrence at what was happening. When the auctioneer reached down and starting stroking me, I struggled to get out of his hands but two huge blacks, obviously slaves themselves with huge rings through their nose septums that matched their genital bands, quickly grabbed me and forced me to stand still with my legs spread as the man pumped me to a full erection and then showed my organ off proudly to the audience while I blushed and burst into tears. By the time my 'hole' was displayed to the audience, I was sobbing and had simply lost it and started praying to my Christian God which seem to amuse the audience all the more as they shouted out "Infidel" with a tone that revealed they certainly thought infidels should be slaves if allowed to live at all.
I too was bought by the man in the back who had bought all four slaves offered so far and so I quickly joined my colleagues and the two blacks. We had to wait while he successfully bid on three others, two more blacks and a white, out of the next twenty up for sale and finally all seven of us purchased were herded into a delivery van, close shackled to the van's walls, and delivered to the resort he ran on the shores of the Red Sea a little south of Jedda. It was only when we taken out of the van, unshackled, fed, and locked in the slave quarters I learned my fate. All of us were being added to the resort's staff since business was booming and more help was needed. Not only were we to clean the rooms, change the bedding, and serve the meals, but, most importantly, we were there to please the clients with whatever use of our bodies they wanted anytime of the day and anyplace on the resort's grounds, no matter who was using us, what they wanted us to do, or whether it was in the privacy of their rooms or publicly in the dining hall or out by the pool.
A YEAR LATER:
The three blacks bought the same time the rest of us were had been owned by a resort before they were sold to this one. They knew exactly what to expect and taught us how to live with it and insure our survival. Their patience in teaching us how to suck the client's off to their complete satisfaction, how to take even the biggest ones up our backsides without experiencing too much pain, and how to feign we were pleased when customers exploited every aspect of our youthful bodies day and day. We learned to serve dinner to the guests with grace and dignity despite them constantly pawing our naked bodies; we learned to stoically bend over the pool side and let the customers fuck us hour after hour right in front of everyone else; we learned that the black customers liked the white slaves best and the white customers seemed to prefer black slaves to fuck; and we learned that there would never be a night where we slept in the slave quarters - we were always in a customer's bed who had arranged for our use for the entire night. Although we served the most lavish foods to the resort's guests, we ourselves were kept on a strict diet of slave chow to control our weight and fine physiques along with our mandatory exercises every day. When one or another of us rebelled during the early weeks, we quickly learned to control ourselves and just do whatever we were told after being subjected to the severe shocks from the electric prods, the withdrawal of all water for 48 hours, or a good 50 strokes with the elephant-hide whips which caused terrible pain but never ripped the surface of our well-oiled hides. The green-eyed Army friend of mine was the most resistant. He had to be tied down over a "fucking horse" for his first six customers who simply wanted to fuck him; was subjected to so many whippings he couldn't remember his ass and back not aching from the damage done beneath the skin when he twisted and shouted every time a customer toyed with his sex organs and nipples, and had all his teeth pulled out without any anaesthesia and replaced with dentures after he bit a customer when he was on his knees and had an exceptionally ugly old man force his smelly prick down his throat. But he shaped up within a month and what he had brought upon himself in terms of horrific punishments was not lost on the rest of us who shaped us without too much trouble, being, I suppose, basically cowards to pain. The black slaves were anything but stoic - they flirted with the customers, teased them with their throbbing pricks which they seemed to be able to get erect almost instantly without manual stimulation of any type, yielded loud moans of pleasure when anyone fucked them, and smacked their lips in appreciation whenever they swallowed yet another load of some customer's freshly extracted cum. Watching them in action, our little gestures of resistance or dislike seemed silly and I suspect only added to our appeal. In fact, I noted several customers only picked out slaves who tended to pull back when their sexual organs were first grabbed and who gave dark looks of hidden resentment when told to bend over for a good fucking or get on their knees to swallow yet another prick clear down their throat. I was certainly in this last category until I wised up and realized it was only making me more popular with the resort crowd. My green- eyed companion soon learned what I had and within two months was as cooperative as the rest of us as far as the clients were concerned.
SIXTEEN YEARS LATER:
It was amazing I was now 37 years old and still reasonably attractive and sexy - a tribute to my forced exercises and strict diet of slave chow only. But age does take its toll and my master replaced me with another boy of 18 who had been kidnaped from the ghettos of Los Angeles and was promptly smuggled into the Saudi markets. He was a handsome blend of half Latino/half mulatto so he ended up golden colored with black eyes and ringlets of curled smooth black hair. He was well hung of course or he wouldn't have ended up being bought by the resort. I knew that once he accepted the idea his body was no longer his own, he'd have a long and successful career here at the resort, just as I had.
My master sold me off as a worker in the oil fields where I was placed in a work gang under the supervision of a hard-nosed whip-wielding overseer who assured the national oil company got their money's worth out of me, despite the terrible heat and the 14 hour work day seven days a week. For the first time in 17 years I was clothed to protect me from the sun, was fed all I wanted to eat of ordinary food at the company mess hall, and given a small cot in the company slave barracks. If we weren't too tired to get it up, we fucked each other once we were locked into the barracks at night, but most of us weren't too interested after working 14 hours in 130 degree heat.
FIFTY-FIVE YEARS OLD:
Amazingly, I am now a ripe 55 years old, highly unusual for a slave in the oil fields. I look 100 and hadn't been able to get an erection in five years now. My supervisor has taken to beating me more and more with the vicious steel-tipped whip routinely used on rebellious or worn-out slaves to get me to keep pace with the others in his gang, but even that whip, which has torn my back to shreds, doesn't seem to have much effect lately other than making me moan in agony and only temporary make me move a little faster. I heard him complain to his boss the other day that I was more trouble than I was worth and he doubted if the company was getting the value back from what it costs to feed me any more. He bluntly asked for a replacement within the next few weeks as his arm was getting tired of beating me if the company was stupid enough to keep feeding me.
Fortunately, I solved the problem. The very week, he was once again beating me unmercifully in that I had simply couldn't seem to keep going by late afternoon. As the first wave of pain from the whip reached my brain, I simply slumped over permanently never to rise again. My last thoughts as I faded away weren't of his continued tearing of my flesh apart, but of my family back in Bosnia sharing a happy meal together the day before I was drafted. As I closed my eyes for the last time I remembered my father giving me his treasured wrist watch (which was taken from me the first time I had to strip for my captors) and fucking my girl friend all night right before I left for the Army (which was the last time I was involved in sex of my choosing).