FULFILLING THE FANTASY II
by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
"Mark, you back already? I knew you'd miss that Bulgarian slave that you had fantasized about for so long. I was just flabbergasted when you decided to sell him, but," he laughed, "I don't mind telling you I certainly enjoyed the commission on that sale."
"You deserved it, John," Mark, his long-time friend smiled back. "How's the slave doing anyway? You sold him to some middle aged woman, didn't you? He's probably worn that big brown prick of us to a nub by now if what I hear about women buying up hunky male slaves is true," Mark chuckled.
"What you hear is true, Mark," John, an experienced slave dealer for many years, assured him. "Why else would they buy them rather than a female slave to wait on them. Those handsome studs that are heavy hung cost a pretty penny you know - a lot more than most any slave girl - so most women intend to get their money's worth. You can imagine what that means if you're the one being bought," he chuckled. "Most of them I sell to women, especially the middle aged women, look completely tuckered out after a few years with their new owner," he laughed. "I've bought some back on trade-in and, let me tell you, their pricks are chaffed raw and their balls are all swollen they've fucked so much. That and swallowing all that pussy juice - the female owners all like their slaves to provide a lot of oral action too - some of the boys I get back have tongues so tired they have trouble keeping them in the mouths anymore. But, Mark, that's not where I ended up selling him. A male brothel out on Long Island outbid the lady and so your Bulgarian got sold to that big operation out there. He's getting fucked all right - it's just I doubt he's doing the fucking - he's most likely on the receiving end out there, although I hear they get quite a few female customers as well - ladies that either can't afford a stud slave of their own or don't want all the bother of upkeep. Those big boys can eat you out of house and home if you feed them properly. I should know - I've got about 12 of them on hand eating me into bankruptcy right now."
"Well, see there, John. I can simply go out to Long Island if I get homesick for the Bulgarian and fuck him all I want."
"For a sizeable fee, I imagine," John laughed. "They'd have to charge plenty to make up for what they paid for that handsome piece of meat."
"It'll still be cheaper than keeping him round-the-clock at my quarters," Mark smiled. I think I go pay him a visit to see if his duties there have made him all loose and sloppy by now. What's the address?"
John whipped out his address book and wrote the address down for his friend Mark. "Takes a good 45 minutes to get out there," he cautioned.
"Thanks, John. But getting the address of a good whorehouse isn't why I came down here today. I was wondering if you could get me in contact with Sotheby's again - the slave brokers over in England you deal with occasionally. They did a great job locating that dark-skinned Bulgarian for me, and, as you know, I made a tidy bundle on selling him off locally."
"Another fantasy materialize, Mark?" John laughed. "I hope this one isn't as weird and exacting as the last one. I was truly surprised even a huge operation like Sotheby's could locate that slave for you - and so quickly too. And they certainly got the slave cheaply enough, considering what you got for your money."
"My latest quest may be difficult, John," Mark sighed, "even for Sotheby's."
"Hold it, I've got to get my order pad out to get all this down if it's as detailed as the last time. Even my memory couldn't soak all that up. While I'm hunting for their order form, you look around at the ordinary stock I specialize in," John smiled as he hurried back to his office and routed around to locate Sotheby's order form.
When he returned, Mark was stroking the slave John had on display that day to draw customers' attention to his dealership. The slave, was only about 5' 6" but muscular throughout, was naturally hairless on his body, and was a brownish red. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was obviously proud of his large circumcised phallus, thrust out for everyone to admire between his wide spread legs. His wrists were fastened to his thick neck collar and a long chain ran down his back from his neck collar to both his ankle irons, which would prevent him taking anything but very short steps, but didn't prevent him spreading his legs wide apart for easy handling by a prospective buyer. His two large tits, unringed, sat atop his massive pectoral development, puffed out for full display. Mark's stroking of his large phallus had already led to the slave being fully erect and even dripping a little in response.
"A half-breed, Mark," John commented as Mark continued stroking the slave. "Half American Indian - half Malaysian. Won't find that too often. He was bred to order for some Malaysian billionaire into American history who had contact with an Asian breeding farm. Waited 16 years for the slave to grow up, then he bought him up and had him for nine years until his recent death. I bought him off an estate wholesaler who were converting all the man's assets into hard cash. This slave was just one of hundreds and hundreds the billionaire owned by the time he died. He collected specially bred slaves like other people collect matchbook covers. Despite his age, this slave has had remarkably little use - he's still as tight as a 19-year-old - and, of course, being born into slavery means he totally accepting of his status as just property and, really, has been trained from birth to do nothing but please an owner. Slaves born into it have no concept of freedom and wouldn't want to be free if you offered it to them. In fact, they would hate it - they'd have to responsible for themselves, feed and shelter themselves, and make decisions - they couldn't handle it being brought up like they are. They're totally dependent on having a master run their life."
I stopped stroking the slave before he messed my hand. "Always the salesman, aren't you John," I laughed. "I need another slave like I need a sixth finger and you know it, you rascal," I laughed as the slave looked at be pleadingly, hoping I'll drain his aching overloaded balls in my 'examination.'. "But, out of curiosity, how much are you asking for this mutation?"
"Mark, the slave's no mutation - he's been carefully bred for a specific purpose. If you want to see mutations, they're nowhere near as pretty as this slave, but, if mutations are your thing, I got a few caged down in the basement awaiting inspection by a customer of mind you loves nature's freaks."
"How much for the... half-breed, if that's what you insist on calling him," Mark persisted.
"Well, bred slaves are always more expensive than once-free slaves that have had to be broken to their new status. After all, bred slaves are trained from birth to be nothing but slaves and view slavery as their God-given destiny. Slavery is in their genes is the way I think of it."
"At the rate they're breeding slaves nowadays, it's going to be hard to find a free-born slave pretty soon - then THEY will be commanding the top prices," I laughed. "But, John, third time around - how much for this slave, who I might add, is dripping all over the place once I handled him a little."
"A little? Just short of shooting all over the place, Mark," John laughed.
"How much?" Mark repeated, motioning for the slave to turn around and then inserting his finger all the way up the slave's ass as he wiggled it around as the slave moaned softly.
"$510,000 and only because he's getting along for a slave," John said. "He's 25 years old but, as I said, he's barely been used by that aging old billionaire that owned him. More of a trophy for display than a heavily used bed buck I suspect. The wholesaler told me this slave's owner used to display hundreds of slaves chained to pedestals in his gardens and throughout his palace just so he could admire his beautiful possessions and let his guests feast their eyes on the beauty and variety of his ornamental slaves. He claimed the old billionaire thought of them as works of art - 'living art' the old fart called them."
"Sort of like bedding down a Grecian urn?" Mark joked, "or a painting by Rembrandt?"
"Something like that, I suppose," John snickered, "but no one claimed he didn't fuck them too! At least, as your finger is now telling you, someone's fucked this boy over the years."
"I take him, John, but, let me warn you, I don't intend to display him chained on a pedestal to admire as a piece of art. I intend to fuck the shit out of him every time I get up the strength," I smiled. "He can walk back to my apartment just like he is. I sort of like that strange way he's chained - hobbled but on full display. Clever!"
"I'll get the sales receipt and ownership papers made out immediately, but you can take the keys to all those locks on him right now, reaching into his pocket and extracting a small ring of keys. I always keep the keys on me for display slaves - you never know when a buyer wants to look them over without any bonds at all on them."
I pocketed the keys, and, while waiting, motioned for the slave to bend over as best he could with his wrists fastened to his thick neck collar so I had better access to his hole. He instantly complied and I proceeded to finger fuck him vigorously until I saw his prick grow to full erection once again and then start profusely dripping. I knew by that he'd been well trained in being fucked - trained to the point where he enjoyed it as much as whoever was fucking him.
John returned within just a few minutes with all the paperwork on the slave, properly notarized and recorded, in a large manila envelope. "I can just charge it to your credit card if that's alright with you, Mark. I've got it on file from when I credited your account last time."
"Fine, John. I trust you and you know I'm good for it after that last sale. But this slave here isn't why I came here today, John," I replied as I withdrew my finger from the slave's asshole and wiped it off in his hair. Your salesmanship was just a little diversion and the new property might prove fun. I don't think I've ever owned a bred slave before.
"You'll like a bred slave, Mark. Everyone else seems to. They're no trouble at all."
"I came here, as you well know, to order another slave for Sotheby's to locate. Now that you finally have the right order pad, could be proceed? I expect a good discount on your commission what with the profit on the slave I just bought"
"You'll get it, Mark. Now just what did you want this time?"
"Well, John, this may not even exist, but it won't hurt to have them look around I suppose. I want a full black, about 6' tall, with a naturally hairless body, smooth skinned, no more than 19 or so, well muscled and clearly defined without being grotesque, a prick at least 8" soft and at least 5" around when he's hard, real puffy pecs that are clearly defined with big black tits on top of them, balls up close to his body rather than swinging around between his legs, and, most importantly, a strikingly handsome face, again naturally hairless, high cheekbones, long curly eye lashes and well defined eye brows pure black, beautiful white teeth, medium reddish black lips that aren't as thick as most full- blooded blacks but still look like they were made to suck, a nose that is more Grecian than African - nothing looking like it is pushed in - and .. now for the unusual...."
"As if what you're telling me isn't?" John laughed as he continued to quickly fill in the order blank, a hopeful twinkle in his eye.
"Eyes that are set close together and are either gold or green - no black eyes, no brown eyes, no blue eyes - they've got to be either gold or green and set fairly close together."
"But, Mark, full blooded blacks almost always have brown or black eyes and they're usually spread wide apart."
"That's why I'm ordering one up special. Somewhere, there has to be a slave like this - it's just a matter of finding the right market. But I'm not through. The hair can't be the kinky black or even wavy greasy black you sometimes see on the black slaves of the Moors. This slave must have either blond or white hair - it can be kinky, it can be wavy, it can be smooth, but it must be blond or white. I think I'd prefer kinky white hair, but I'd settle for the other. And one other thing I know Sotheby's will ask you, he's got to be well trained and eager to please a male owner when he's bedded down for their pleasure."
"Any body fittings?" John asked professionally.
"Not necessary, but if the slave is already fitted, that's OK. I can always change them if necessary."
John put the order form down on a nearby table and smiled.
"Hopeless?" Mark frowned.
"You're not going to believe this, Mark, but I have your boy right here in one of the pens in the back."
"You're kidding. Stop putting me on, John, and get this order faxed to Sotheby's to I can get my half-breed home and put to some use."
"I'm not kidding, Mark. I have the very slave you described right here in a pen out back. I was thinking of putting him on display out here today, but decided at the last minute to display the half-breed, thinking he would have more appeal."
"But where.... where... John did you get hold of a slave like that?" Mark sputtered out.
"Last week, I spotted him on a wholesaler's internet listings from the Cameroons. He's just as you described, even down to that huge prick you wanted, and he's got golden eyes - at least there's a distinct golden cast to the pupils, and his hair is pure white and kinky. He's a fluke - a pigmentation problem somewhere along the line when he was bred - probably hereditary, they said, but that white hair and gold eyes are all that's out of place - other than that, he's a full-blooded black, with a straight Grecian nose like most Cameroon slaves have, those long curly black eye lashes and the beautiful thick eye brows common over there. Caught up in the civil war, he was captured by the rebels and sold off to the wholesaler along with about 1200 other prisoners they didn't want to feed with the stipulation they all had to be sold far away from the Cameroons so they'd never come back. He's been a slave all his life though - long before the war. His parents were slaves for some French planter back in the colonial period who bred them like cattle. They told me that Frenchman, who kept every female slave almost constantly pregnant with his squad of big lusty stud slaves, was selling off about 200 slaves a year as they came of age. Of course, their war of independence brought a stop to all that - but not before that wily Frenchman sold his entire stock off on the underground world market. Make a fortune doing it - enough to finance the wholesaler I bought this slave from. Like the half-breed, this black knows nothing of free-will or self-determination. He's happy just being a slave where someone else takes care of him. And," John paused dramatically, "he's wonderful in bed. Just last night, I bedded him down and he was as good, if not better, than any I can recall in recent years. Eager as a bull in heat."
"I simply can't believe it," Mark said, his eyes darting around as if the white-haired black might be hiding behind John. "Let's go see this slave."
"Here's a leash, Mark," John said as he fastened a leash to the neck collar of the half-breed and handed it to Mark. "Just bring him along so some other folks don't think he's still for sale."
"Ah, I don't want to fool with him now. Don't you have a "Sold" sign you can hang around his neck?"
"Well, sure I do. But that sign won't keep shoppers from milking him dry and even fucking him up here on the display stand," John said disgustedly. "Better just bring him along with the leash. Some of our customers down here are just trash, Mark, and really just come down here to get some free jollies with the display items."
With that cautionary, the two of quickly headed for the back pens, the half-breed carefully pacing himself behind us to avoid choking on his collar.
John took us past three different cells, all jammed with naked slaves already readied for auction in the next few days, until he came to a small cage way in back which only had one occupant - the black he had promised..
John took the short slave whip from his belt, opened the cage, and with a crack of his whip, ordered the big slave out for full display. The black, once he stretched quickly to uncramp his well defined muscles, quickly assumed the commanded position with his legs far apart, his hands in back of his collared neck with all his muscles tensed, and with his pelvis thrust out for a buyer's convenience in inspecting him. A dazzling smile, displaying his beautiful set of sparkling white teeth, broke across his face when he saw me - a buyer obviously interested in looking him over for possible purchase.
As I hefted his ball sac in my hand and rubbed his large black tits with my other hand, he whispered, "Buy me, Master," so low John couldn't hear him. I was startled to hear a slave dare to speak during a body inspection, but decided not to slap him as hard as I could as I normally would in that his voice was so soft and inviting - and so sincere.
"I'll please you every way I can, master," the black slave whispered again as I reached for his large shaft and begin to pump it to full erection. I stared at the audacious slave and was about to reprimand him for speaking while he was being examined, but was speechless when I saw his eyes - they were truly golden with just a hint of green against a pure white background surrounded by exceptionally long, thick, curly black lashes. I motioned for him to bend forward and ran my hand through his well-clipped, kinky pure white hair.
His body was absolutely hairless, even the area above his prick. I rubbed it to see if it was shaved - it was too smooth for that - the boy was truly naturally hairless on his body. Even his ass crack and the area between his large balls and his hole had no hairs at all - just the same super smooth black skin that covered the rest of his body, now shining slightly from a slight sweat caused, no doubt, by the sexual excitement he was experiencing from the continual manipulation of his organs, now hard and throbbing in my hand. I looked again at his face: it was exceptionally, even strikingly, handsome with the high cheekbones, the medium pouty lips, the Grecian nose, and the ultra-smooth pore-less skin I prefer.
"You want to see his cream?" John asked, used to the usual demands of most customers. "He's trained to just catch it in the palm of his hand for customer's inspection."
"When was he last milked?" I asked.
"Sometime yesterday, someone was looking him over. Did they milk you then, slave?" he asked the black.
"Yes, master," the slave said softly. "But I'm all ready to spurt a big load out again for my new master," he said delightedly as if I had already bought him.
"Very well," I ordered, "although I haven't bought you yet, you big whore," I cautioned.
The black slave instantly took his large hands down from behind his neck, wrapped a full fist around his massive shaft, and effortlessly jerked himself off in just a few full strokes until he spurted a full load of thick, steamy white cum into the palm of his other hand. As he unloaded quickly, it wasn't long until he was holding the surprisingly large offering before me with his eyes dancing in delight.
"Thank you, master," he said humbly, lifting his offering even higher for my convenience. "It's nice and thick and tastes real good," he said enthusiastically, "if the master would like to drink it down. And it makes lots of new slave babies real quick like if you want to breed me, master."
I couldn't help but laugh at the slave's assessment of his own output. I did stick my finger in his 'offering' and tasted it. The slave was right. It was thick, fresh tasting, and had a nice tangy taste. I decided to drink the whole thing and motioned for him to pour it in my mouth, which he did gently and carefully so as to not spill a drop.
"You like, master?" he asked enthusiastically. "I can make some more for you right now if you want, master."
"Not now, slave," I chuckled. "But how do you know it makes babies so quick?"
"My last master, that wholesaler man, rented me out to stud at the breeding farm nearby, master. The overseers there told me I had a different women every time because I'd knocked up every single one I'd been with after just one good studding, master," the slave responded with considerable pride as if this were a question everyone was asked routinely. There wasn't a hint of resentment, shame, humiliation, or resistance to any of the things I had asked him to do or any thing I had done to his body.
"You good in bed, slave?" I bluntly asked him.
"Yes, master. Everyone loves to bed this boy down. I give you pleasure the very best possible, master. I like it better than anything, master. The dealer back in the Cameroons told me I just a natural whore. I suppose he right, master, I like bringing pleasure so much," he reported in a very manly tone of considerable pride.
"Since you spent time studding, don't' you mind men using your body for their own pleasures, slave?"
"Master, what you mean?" the slave looked puzzled.
"Wouldn't you rather be fucking women at the stud farm than having me fuck your ass every night, slave?" I crudely responded to make sure he understood me exactly.
"Why would I want that, master? I shoot off big whether I fucking a woman or a man fucking me - doesn't make any difference to this slave one way or the other - I shoot off big either way, master. But, master, I confused like. I didn't think slaves had any wants or choices like that - I'm just a slave remember. Slaves just do what their master tells them whether they likes it or not, master. But, master, what you say, I love being fucked by a man - makes me feel good all over everytime I poked good - even if it just another slave boy poking me - but a master even better - makes me feel they value me, master, for my body if nothing else."
"What else do you have for a master to value?" I asked, curious at the way this slave thought.
"Master, this slave work hard at anything, not just in bed. And he looks for ways to please you all the time. And, master, I'm good at cleaning, and fixing up, and laundering, and gardening, and washing your car, and all sorts of things. I likes pleasing, master. After you own me a while, you'll appreciate me in bed I guarantee, but you'll also value me for being just a good slave in all ways - not just using my body for your pleasure, master, which, of course, I want you to do every time you favor me that way."
"I'm not even asking the price, John. I'll take him even if he is a God-damn talking machine that can wear you out with that boastful mouth of his."
"You can cure that easy enough, Mark. Just fill it with something big and suckable so he can't talk all the time," John laughed. "And this piece of babbling flesh isn't going to cost you as much as think it might, eager as the slave is to be sold. I got him for $400,000 from that wholesaler. He's just 19 so that's a real buy, trained since birth as he is. Add my 10% and I'll charge you $440,000. A deal?"
"Sold," I announced. Weld a permanent collar on him, John. I want a 3" collar that will force his head up high all the time made out of that gold colored anodized aluminum to match his eyes. And band those genitals tightly with the same material - a one inch band should do fine - and rivet a 2" slave tag of that same material through his right ear with my name and address on it in case he gets lost."
"That will cost you $66 dollars more, installed. We can do it right here - that will only take a few minutes. In fact, we can have that done to the black slave while I'm getting the ownership papers and sales receipt filled out, registered, and notarized. Charge it to your Visa, Mark?"
"Yeah, $440,066. I spent a little more than I thought I would today, but it looks like I've got some quality merchandise at least."
"That you have," John assured me as he took out his slavewhip and guided the black slave to the fitter while he filled out the paperwork.
When he returned, the collar forced the black's handsome face up to where the whole world would always see him in all his glory, his large, closely banded genitals were now in full prominent display, and the tag on his ear announced he was sold and all mine now. The fittings contrasted beautifully with his golden eyes and his shiny black skin. He looked like a slave should now - decorated to please his master, displaying his sex prominently at all times at the whim of his owner, and properly tagged to tell the world he was pure livestock, property of a master proud of what he owned body and soul.
"I sort of doubt if I'm going to get around to visiting that brothel out on Long Island today," Mark said to John with a smile on his face. "I'll probably be busy assessing the new properties."
"Assessing the new properties?" John howled. "Fucking them to death is more like it. I doubt if you even leave your apartment for three days, let alone get yourself out to Long Island, Mark."
"Well, you may be right. At least, I hope you're right."
"Another fantasy fulfilled?" John asked.
"I hope so," Mark replied. "But isn't this one great and it's standing there right in front of us, rock hard and ready to go."
"You'll like the half-breed too, I think," John added.
"Probably, but I've never fantasized about a half American Indian-half Malayan yet. Maybe after I've sampled the goodies."
At that, both Mark and John doubled up with laughter.
TO BE CONTINUED
Comments always appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)