HARBOUR MASTER, Part 2
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
I woke up to my first full day of slavery with raging hard-on, as I guess everyone does every morning. I was embarrassed as hell, and I wanted to do something about it, but with my hands still cuffed behind my neck, what could I do? I reckoned all the other guys were in the same position, too, but some were trying to hide it by lying on their fronts, or lying curled up so that you couldn't see their dicks.
I lay there wondering what the hell was going to happen, and I also needed to piss desperately,. There was nothing for it - I had to struggle to my feet (you try going from lying to standing, without using your hands!), then make my way over towards the piss hole. I was acutely conscious about the way that my dick swung around in front of me as I crossed the room - it's pretty big when it's flaccid, but once it's erect, it's a monster! You know how it is - your dick sways from side to side and sort of bounces up and down as you walk, and it's as if it's given your balls new life, too, as they sway around underneath. I saw the guys watching me, and I hated it. You'd have thought I'd have been used to being naked with them by now, wouldn't you, but it didn't seem to help me.
What a relief it was to piss, even though the stench from the hole in the floor was disgusting. I did now at least feel able to face the day. Of course, with a foreskin, you always have problems when you've pissed as you really do need to massage it to get the last few drops of piss to fall clear, and I couldn't do this. I hated to think of those drops of piss inside, up against my cock head, festering away. I know some girls hate uncut guys as they say they smell too bad, but provided you keep squeezing after a leak, and you wash your behind you 'skin well every time you have a shower, there's no problem really.
Taking the lead from me, the other guys went and pissed in turn - I was surprised, I suppose, to see the variety of human bodies as they knelt there at the piss hole. I was the tallest and most muscular, there was one guy who was almost unnaturally thin, a guy who was certainly at least 20 lbs too heavy, a very freckled red-haired guy with milky white skin except for the freckles, and guy who looked more like a gorilla - there was so much hair covering all this back and his ass.
The guards came soon after, and called out for "Cory" to make himself known. The hairy guy went up to the barred door, and they opened it and took him away. A few minutes later they came back, and we were all led off back down the corridor to the doctor's office.
We filed in, and were told to sit down again. "Well, that shows the value of the tests. You're all fit and healthy, except for one of you who's been withdrawn from sale: no one will buy a slave who's HIV +. Apart from the risk, there's the incredible cost of the drugs - masters are responsible totally for the health care of their slaves, you know."
I wanted to ask what would happen to Cory, but didn't want to risk upsetting the doctor.
"So you seven now have to proceed to the net step. As you may or may not know, the fitting of a tracer to slaves is mandatory in the USA. You've all had an external one, between sentencing and your return to the court to pay the fine or be enslaved - and you'll know that's why we have 100% compliance with the court's rulings: wearing one of those things, there's just no way you can hide from the police. Well, as slaves, you'll be wearing one all the time, and that's why you've probably never heard of runaway slaves, except in history books. Remember, the penalty for leaving your master's property is normally death, and there's no way you can hide with the surveillance satellites in the sky. I did hear of one miserable wretch who hid in a mine for three years, but he had to emerge one day as his helpers were all sick, and the moment he did, he was caught!"
"Of course", he went on, "Wearing a bracelet all the time would be unsatisfactory, as some masters like their slaves totally nude. So we fit the electronics internally. Who's going to be first?"
He didn't wait for a volunteers, but instead swivelled towards me. "You - you caused all that trouble yesterday. I'll start with you, so the others can see what happens if you misbehave. Get over and bend over the examination table."
Watched by the guards, I went over and half lay on the table, the leather top feeling cold and clammy against my belly and my pecs.
"Undo his cuffs, guard", the doctor said, and my arms were at last free.
"Right, slave, spread your legs and pull your ass cheeks apart so I've got uninterrupted access to your hole", he continued.
Blushing with shame as I knew all my fellows would now get a complete view of my hole, I did as I was told. The doctor was holding a steel instrument that looked a bit like a thin spring, and was covering it liberally with some of the grease he'd used the previous day on his finger when he's so brutally forced entry to me.
"Right - try to relax whilst I get this in. Don't try to stop me - it's thin, strong, and greased, and it's going in anyway. Probably best if you think about crapping - push outwards, and that relaxes and opens your ass muscles and it makes it easier to get past."
I felt the cold metal against my ass, and tried to do as he said. Actually, it wasn't all that unpleasant - well, at least not half as bad as his finger had been - and the doctor continued to push the thing up inside me as he watched something on a TV monitor.
"There", I heard him say to himself. "Right up and in.... Now to release it....." I saw him do something with the end of the device, then he started to pull it out of me. A shiver of excitement and pleasure ran through me as the metal slid out of my ass - no, that couldn't be, surely... Guys don't get pleasure from things coming out of their ass, do they?
He went to a PC on his desk, and keyed some things in.
"Good. It's taken. I can see you clearly on the map, slave, using the tracker software. So all done, slave. Go and sit down again."
I was expecting the guard to cuff my wrists behind my head again, but he didn't. Instead, he used the little key thing and took my collar off completely.
"Don't get any ideas, though, slave", he told me. "Now the doc's fitted the tracer chip right up inside your guts, there's no escape. You can run, but you can't hide. And when we re-capture you, you'll be dead - sent off to the organ banks like all useless slave meat. So there's no more need of collars and cuffs - you're a slave now, and other than the occasional prodding and whipping to keep you in line ,we don't have to worry about having you chained up - except for effect, of course!"
I wondered what he meant, but did find out later!
When all seven of us had been "chipped", they led us off and fed us - this time we were given spoons and could feed ourselves with the meaty paste-like stuff. I noticed that they gave the fat guy almost none, and he asked for more. That earned him a prodding, for daring to speak when he wasn't replying to a question, and he was told that he'd be starved until he'd got a proper man's body back and the thin guy inside was making himself known!
As we were sitting there finishing our "meal", the chief honcho who'd spoken to us the day before came into the room.
"On your feet!", the guards snapped. "Slaves always get up when their master enters a room."
Well, I don't go with all this respect crap, but I'd been prodded , as you know, and didn't want to repeat the experience, so I got to my feet.
"Finish your breakfast, slaves. It's nutritionally perfectly balanced to give you all the vitamins and minerals you need, with the proper proportions of protein and carbohydrate. Some of your future masters will almost certainly choose to feed you that all the time, as it's cheap and easy, and they know that you'll thrive on it. Just like some folks always feed their pet dogs dog chow. Of course, some of your owners might spoil you and allow you to eat their food - but we never recommend it: you all cost a lot of money, and it's pretty senseless to risk letting you get fat, or out of condition."
"Anyway, now that you're all safely chipped, we can proceed to sell you. A couple more things you have to go through today - proper dental check, and putting any poor teeth into good order, a and a shave, and then it's off to the stock pens for you. We always shave the balls and asses of our slave for sale, as we believe that most prospective purchasers like to be able to inspect these important areas of you without a lot of hair in the way, and we usually generally tidy your pubic hair generally at the same time, and give you a haircut. I mostly leave your head hair as it is, though, and don't touch most of your body hair - although there's a fashion for slaves to be completely shaved all over, that's something a buyer can commission afterwards. Personally, I like totally smooth slaves as I think it shows off their body definition better - and that big slave there (he pointed to me) would look very good smooth and with his skin glistening with a little slave oil. But If I have you all completely smooth now, it will put some buyers off, as they like hairy men and wouldn't be certain about the covering they were going to get when it re-grew. And some purchasers like to think they can tell something about a slave's "character" from the way he wore his hair in his former life."
"Right, guards, take them and get them properly cleaned up."
Well, at least in the showers there were no more mops this time - with our hands free we could wash ourselves properly. But it was horrific when we found that we were meant to shave the dicks, balls and asses of our fellows! Other than yesterday, I'd never had another guy touch my dick or ass, and I'd certainly never thought about touching another man's tackle. But now I was expected to lie there in the showers whilst one of the guys used firstly scissors, and then a razor, to run all over my balls to make them smooth! Apart from the shame of having another man touch these most intimate parts of you, there was the constant tension of knowing that he might hurt you - you know how it is when you touch your own balls - you do so oh so carefully, and even with constant feedback from your fingers, you're always slightly worried. But with a strange guy doing it.... I was sweating, expecting to leap up in the air at any moment. And if I did, with that razor near me....!
When he'd finished, the guy handed me the razor, and kind of shrugged - I was supposed to do him! Actually, I suppose it wasn't all that bad. If you don't think about where a guy's dick has been, pumping seed into women, and just think of it as another part of the body, you can almost get away with doing something like trimming the hair off the base of it, then running a razor up it. It helped that the guy didn't spring an erection - I think that if he had, I'd have totally lost it. The balls were harder, though, as you have to snip the hair away with scissors first, then pull and stretch the ball sac so that you can shave it. The guy's dick lay quite still, flopping against his thigh, as I worked, so it wasn't too bad though.
When we stood up, I couldn't help reaching to feel my balls. They actually felt better - silky and smooth! I suppose you get used to the feel of all the wiry pubic hair on them and you don't notice it - but shaved smooth, they're soft and silky and actually feel great. I wish someone had told me about this before - I might even have done it regularly! And, of course, as we stood there, you could see why they wanted our balls shaved - with the hair off them, and the base of our dicks cleaned and our pubes generally trimmed to be shorter and less bushy and straggly, we all looked as if we had bigger dicks and balls (well, the other guys did, as far as I could see, so I suppose mine did, too. Not that I'm an expert - I wouldn't want you to think that I go around judging the size of guys' tackle!).
But now it got worse - the guards said it was ass-shaving time, "And that little bit between the balls and the hole. We want it all clean as a whistle."
"You", he said, pointing at me,. "You're the biggest - kneel down, on your hands and knees."
"Right. Now, in turn each of you other slaves is going to lie across the back of that big fucker. You pull your ass cheeks apart, and another guy will shave off all those little hairs down your ass crack. I'm going to run my finger down each of you when you've done, and if I feel anything at all that's anything like a hair, between the ball sac and the top of the ass crack, there will be punishment! Now, get to work."
The other six all looked at each other, and then the thin guy shrugged and came and knelt beside me, at right angles to my back. He leaned forward, and then was resting on me. I could feel the heat of his chest and his belly on my back, and I knew his dick must be swinging around somewhere, near my ribs. I don't know what I felt, really, other than that we shouldn't be made to be doing things like this - I'd not had another man's body in close contact with mine before. I suppose wrestlers do it all the time, but I'd never done anything like that. But by the time the sixth guy was finished, I suppose I was used to it. The only thing I didn't like was that one of the guys got a bit "excited", shall we say, and I could feel his dick thrusting into my ribs as I knelt there. I was worried he might shoot all over me!
I wasn't given anyone to kneel over - they just told me to press my shoulders to the floor, and reach back and spread my ass cheeks. It felt odd, having the razor sliding up and down that most secret place. Little sensations flowed through me as the razor skittered around the sensitive skin of my pucker - not unpleasant, but oh so different from anything I'd ever known before. When the slave pronounced me done, I was told to carry on kneeling there whilst the guard "inspected" me - his hot finger started at the base of my spine and ran down my crack. He almost massaged my pucker, and I wanted to squirm with the tickling, sexual excitement of it all - NO! I didn't . I hated it really, I suppose. Having a guy toying with my pucker, it's disgusting.
I can't tell you much about the dental inspection and the work the dentist did, except that it felt mighty odd to be sitting in a leather dentist chair, with one of those napkins tied around your neck, when that's absolutely all you're wearing! By the time it was my turn the leather of the chair was all hot and sweaty from the previous slaves' bodies, and having the leather slithering around under me felt OK. Actually, I've always had strong, even very white teeth - just as well, as there was never much money for dentist bills - so I didn't need anything doing. He did the usual poking around with the sharp steel instruments, took a few X-rays to make sure there was no deep decay starting, and pronounced me perfect. Some of the other guys weren't so lucky, though, and it took most of the day, with us just sitting there watching, for us all to be done.
They even had those fancy high-intensity tanning cubicles! Some of us guys, me included, were taken and made to stand in them so that we could "Even up our tans". Now my ass and crotch really were glowing pink! They didn't make the pale, freckled redhead go through this, though - I heard one of the guards saying that he'd fetch a higher price milky-white, as some masters, especially big blacks, really liked them that way.
We seemed to be about finished for the day, when the chief honcho appeared again.
"Right - you're all fit and healthy, all checked out. So you're ready to go on sale. This way!"
He led us off, and we went through the building again until it seemed to change - the stark thermoplastic on the floors changed to carpet, the lights became softer, and the walls were panelled with wood veneer. We stopped in front of an impressive set of double doors, saying "Welcome To The Slave For You Viewing Suite".
He opened the doors, and we went through. There was a wide corridor stretching away down the room, with two sets of cells, or cages, one down either side. They were made of shining stainless steel bars stretching from floor to ceiling, and were not very big - each was only just longer than the plastic-covered sleeping pad lying to one side of each cell, and only about twice as wide. Some of these cells had naked guys in them. We all looked, and were expecting the men there to say something, but it was ominously silent.
We could see that the carpet on which we were standing ran only to the cell doors, and inside they were plain concrete. The lighting in our "corridor" was low and discrete, but each "cell" was harshly lit by an overhead fluorescent.
"Right, you new slaves, this is the viewing facility. You'll spend the rest of your time with us in here. Although we no longer need to keep you confined or chained, as you can't escape with those locator chips inside you, most of our clients savour the experience of coming and selecting a slave - rather like when you go to the dog pound to pick out anew dog, they like to come and view the stock, and see what's on offer. It's more or less "traditional" to see slaves on sale in cages, and so we oblige, even though it would be easier just to have you all in one big room. We're proud to be able to offer our customers a choice of around thirty slaves at any one time, and as we're a 'lean and mean' organisation, this facility is designed to allow us to house and display you with the minimum effort."
"Each of you will occupy one of the cells. As you will see, our customers can stroll down the central aisle and view the contents of the cells on either side easily. If they want, they can ask the guard to bring you out here into the centre for particular 'hands on' inspection, or if they want to see you do something special - some buyers like to see you run up and down the length of this space, for example, so they can really watch you in action."
"There's a crap and piss hole in the corner of each cell, and a tongue-activated water spigot on the wall.
The guards will bring around your rations twice a day, and you will eat them all, quickly: We tailor the amount to your general body mass, so you are required to eat all your rations, and no more - we found a slave surreptitiously slipping some of his food to the slave in the next cell last month, as that slave was on a starvation diet to reduce his fat: needless to say, both were punished severely, and I mean severely!"
"Every morning the shower heads in the ceiling of each cell will drench you, and every two days you will be given a disposable razor to shave with. You will use it not only on your faces, but to ensure your sacs and asses stay silky smooth, too. Talking - no, any form of communication - between you slaves is strictly forbidden. You will remain totally silent whilst you're in here, unless a purchaser or a guard asks you a question: there's microphones at intervals down the corridor, and if they pick up sounds, we sent electric shocks through the floors of all the cells in that area - there are fine wires embedded in the concrete floors of the cells, and you are, of course, all barefooted. Remember, then, that it's not just you that will be punished for any communication, it's your fellow slaves around you, too."
"Likewise any form of sexual stimulation is strictly forbidden. No jerking off, no playing with your dicks, and, of course, absolutely no touching of the slaves on either side of you through the bars. Close circuit TV cameras monitor the whole area, and if the guard in our control centre sees even the merest hint of sexual activity, the wires can be activated to give you a painful punishment. We want you to be primed and ready for our clients to feel and handle, and we don't want a slave who's just jerked himself off to stand there and not care - buyers like to feel the tension in a man, the tension that makes his balls twitch and his dick go hard if he's touched down there."
"Finally, you should expect to be here for no more than seven days. We don't make any provision for exercising you, as a week isn't enough time for your muscles to start to atrophy. If you're not sold in seven days we take other measures - although as we tend to specialise in the prime younger man market, in general this isn't a problem. We've only had to dump a few slaves into the organ bank market this year. But, be aware, it could happen to you - we can't keep you here indefinitely, as the effort to maintain you in good condition isn't sustainable with our small staff. So if we can't sell you within a reasonable period, it's off to the organ banks. So I would advise you to be eager to please, when there are prospective buyers around, and to make yourselves look like desirable properties!"
"Oh - one more thing: as you'll see, slaves on display wear the traditional white shorts. You'll be issued with them now, and you need to do two things: firstly, remember the size you're given, so that tomorrow morning, hen they're changed, you get the correct replacement pair. And secondly, wear them! You will wear them at all times unless you're crapping, or when the showers are running. Or , of course, if a buyer is carrying out an intimate inspection of you."
"As you can't ask, I'll tell you why we waste money on these shorts - after all, you don't need them for protection, as you're safely in your cells, or for modesty, as you're all slaves. No, it's for the general comfort of the buyers: we get some single ladies coming here to buy a slave, and they don't like to be confronted with a lot of dicks waving around. It's been our experience that we get more sales if ladies are allowed to select the slaves they're interested in, then have them strip for an intimate inspection. Of course, many male buyers like that, too - there's something special about requiring a slave to strip in front of you, knowing that you can then fondle and play with him as you like."
Well, that about sums up my time in the display section - the first day, it was incredibly boring. There was hardly room to move around in the tiny cell.
One group of us got big shock, that left us howling and fucking mad with the slave who'd started talking, in spite of what we'd been told - so it was silence after that. All you could really do was space up and down a bit, or just sit or lie on your sleep pad. There was nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to think about - I suppose they wanted us to have this featureless time so that when buyers did appear we were eager for something different to happen.
I've been to a dog pound with mom and dad when they were getting a new dog when I was living at home, and seeing the reaction of us slaves reminded me exactly of this. All the slaves were quiet, just hanging around in their cells, until the doors opened and a prospective buyer, accompanied by a guard, came in. Then we all went almost wild, rushing to the doors of our cells and waving our arms out to attract their attention, or just standing there, trying to get our heads close to the bars so we'd be noticed.
On my first day I didn't do this and just remained sitting on my sleeping pad, and the buyers ignored me.
But by day two, I was trying to "sell" myself through the bars, just like the others. Of course I was worried about the "seven day limit", and the possibility of being sent to the organ banks, but it as more of a "I want contact" kind of thing - after the sterile isolation of being silent and confined in my cell, I craved being allowed to step into the corridor just for a change from the bleak cell, to hear voices, even if they were discussing my physical attributes, and to have someone touch me, even though I loathed the liberties they would take with my naked body.
I found that if I stood by the bars of my cll, gripping the bars tightly so that my hands framed my face as it pressed close to the steel, it seemed to get me some attention - well, I am considered a handsome guy, after all, and in that position the whole of my fit body is also exposed right close to the corridor. There was only one single lady looking, and she ignored me. But I had two married couples have me taken out of my cell on that second day, and four individual men did the same.
That second couple were the worst - there was a man about my age and his young wife, and they told the guard they were interested in seeing more of me. So he unlocked my cell door, and I stepped out on to the carpet in front of them. The husband seemed to know what he was doing, as he ran his hands over my pecs and down my belly, stopping at the top of my shorts. He told me to turn around, and his fingers pried into my neck muscles, then ran down my back, again feeling my muscles. He ran his hands over my ass outside my shorts, and told me to turn around again.
"Well, honey", he said to his wife. "This one seems to be a good strong guy - nicely toned. He'd be able to do all the yard work on our four acres...."
"Oh, Jed, I don't know... He's so..... So.... Overpowering."
"Don't worry about that - me and my family have had several slaves, I grew up with them, and I'm used to controlling them. This one is perfectly harmless - why don't you touch him, and see."
She was clearly very nervous, but her hand finally came out and rested lightly on the hair on my left pec. "Oh, Jed... He's so warm...."
"Yes - slaves who are kept naked usually feel warm, I find. Shall we have a closer look?"
He came forward again, and moved his hand across my belly. This time he didn't stop, and reached down into my shorts and started to grope for my dick. I of course bent backwards - I still wasn't used to this, and I wanted to get away from his hand.
"Steady, boy!", the guard snapped, and I remembered what would happen if I didn't behave.
The husband groped - rather inexpertly, I suppose, for a couple of seconds, then said to the guard, "I'd like to inspect this slave completely. Have him get naked."
"You heard!", the guard turned to me and said. "Drop those shorts and put your hands behind your neck." He waved his prod menacingly at me as he said this, so, very reluctantly, as having to strip in front of a woman was even worse than getting naked in front of another guy, I let my shorts drop to the floor.
The husband came forward again, and this time grasped my dick firmly in his hand. It was awful, being felt by another guy like this in front of a woman! To my horror I started to feel myself going a bit hard.
"He's a bit frisky", the husband commented to the wife. "But now you can see all of him, he's obviously very strong and well built, isn't he? I reckon he could easily take care of our four acres and do all the chores whilst I'm travelling. You wouldn't mind giving him his orders every day, would you?"
"Oh, honey, I don't know. He looks awfully big to me - and I don't like the way he's showing off by going hard like that - it's not very respectful, is it?"
"It's only because he's a young guy. You're not afraid of him, are you? We need a big strong man to work the land, and keep the place neat.... And you know I don't get time."
"Jed, honey, I don't think so.... He's so.... So..... Virile. I don't think I'd feel safe out there on our place without you to protect me, with this slave roaming free all over...."
As this conversation was going on the chief honcho - I guess he was actually the owner of the place, and the chief dealer, came up.
"Hi, folks. Fine looking young buck, isn't he? What are you looking for?"
The husband replied, saying they needed a man to work their mini-farm, and that he had to spend a lot of time travelling, but that his wife was concerned about a slave roaming around when the husband was away so much.
"Well, sir", the dealer responded. "I think this is just the slave you need. You can see his fine musculature - just run your hand down over his ass, and feel the power in those muscles - he was a labourer in construction, and these are real work muscles."
The husband did indeed start to run his hands over my ass, and I kind of shuddered at the way he was feeling me - I was just something he was inspecting with a view to buying, not a man, like him. I might as well have been a golf club, or something, that had to "feel right" before it was bought. And having the slave dealer there seemed to make him bolder - he came around and started to feel my biceps, and my pecs, and ran his hand down over my stomach again, sensing the ridges of hard muscle I have there.
"See, sir", the dealer went on, "You don't often get musculature like that. He's tough, young, and strong - you can get years of work out of him!"
"I suppose you're right. But I think my wife has a point - I don't like the idea of leaving him roaming around when she's so isolated - I've heard stories of slaves... You know... 'taking advantage' of lone women. I wouldn't feel easy if I was over-nighting in Chicago, and this slave was alone with my wife.... Who knows what might happen. And I've got a young child, you know, a little girl of five - there are stories of slaves...."
"Enough, sir. I understand your concerns. I guess it would be impractical to have the slave permanently chained up, secured outside?"
"Yes. We've got about four acres, that he'd need to mow and so on. I don't think a chain would work..."
"Well then, the other solution is of course to have him gelded. Gelded slaves are much more docile, and there's no risk of.... Of.... Shall we say 'interference' with ladies or children."
I felt sick with horror. They couldn't be serious! In spite of all the warnings about prodding if I spoke without being spoken to, I blurted out "You can't do that! You're not allowed to do permanent harm to prisoners.... Remember, that's what we are...."
The guard went to prod me, but the dealer held him back. He ignored me, and spoke to the man and his wife. "There's no problem with getting the gelding done. We can apply to the courts for an order to allow it to happen, citing the special job needs of the slave - there's a very simple form for you to complete for the court, saying how isolated your house is and so on, and they'll certainly grant permission. We do it all the time."
"We can do all the paperwork when you sign the sale contract, and I'll even make it conditional on the court's permission. Then, tomorrow, when the court has approved, we'll have our resident doctor take his balls off - it's a relatively simple procedure, and we cauterise the wound so that he'll be ready to work the day after that. I'd recommend you keep him closely supervised for a few days whilst the male hormones flush out of his system, but after that..... No problem."
I was gasping in horror. I wanted to shout and scream at them that it wasn't some animal they were talking about, it was me! It was my balls they were proposing to cut off. I'd not only have lost my freedom, being a slave, I'd have lost my manhood as well. I wanted to strike out, smash their faces in, or run away.... But I was snaked, inside the dealership, and the guard was hefting his prod in a very menacing way.
The husband had a question, though. "Well, I guess we could do that - it sounds simple enough. But wouldn't he then lose all his strength... I seem to remember all those old movies with eunuchs in Arabian palaces - they all seemed to be fat and lazy.... I need a slave for hard manual work."
"You're right to be concerned, sir. But there's actually no problem. Provided you take a slave's balls when he's fully mature, his basic body shape is set. He won't get fat - well, at least not if you work him hard and thrash him if he fails to make his work targets, and rigorously control his food intake. You won't need to shave him, of course, and his voice will alter a bit - but other than the obvious external signs, as his dick will hang a bit lower, you won't generally be able to tell that he's lost his 'nads. Of course, if you were considering buying a boy slave, my advice would be different - I usually don't recommend gelding them until they've had a couple of years of spunk production."
"Well, if you're sure..... Oh hell, yes ,why not..... Except that in the summer we will of course have him work naked - I can't be bothered with buying slave clothes all the time, and getting them laundered. I can't help thinking that without his balls, he'll look a bit odd."
"Well, not a problem again. It normally costs extra, but I'm keen to move this slave so I'll throw it in for free - we won't do the routine gelding and cauterisation, but will have him fitted with prostheses at the same time."
I was still listening incredulously. It was as if I was going mad. This conversation going on around me about my body was almost surreal. I kept thinking that I would wake up and it would all be a horrible nightmare. But it went on and on.
"Prostheses?", the husband asked.
"Yes. Instead of just slicing the sac off and running the electric cauteriser over the wound, the doctor slits it open from behind, cuts out the balls, then inserts a couple of small - or, in the cane of this slave, large - prosthetic balls in. Then the sac is sewn up from behind."
As he was speaking ,the dealer had cupped my sac in his hand and had smiled at the husband when he made the point about "large" rather than "small" - they were both looking at my sac, with its big balls outlined against the shaved skin. The husband returned the dealer's smile, and I could see that they were sharing a kind of "guy thing" joke about me.
"As I said, it usually costs a bit more, as it takes the doctor longer. But I'll do it as part of the service - and there will be no charge for the extra large set of prostheses, either!" Both men now laughed, and shook hands.
"One other thing, too, if you like. We'll see to his nipples - I'll have that thrown in as well, if you want him done."
"What about his nipples?", the wife now butted in. I don't think she liked her husband and the dealer striking a deal without her approval.
"Well, mam, it's like this. A lot of slaves, and I guess a young stud like this is no exception, have a strong connection between their nipples and their dicks. To be crude, and I do apologise, mam, but there's no point in not speaking plainly about slaves - they play with their nipples to help them get erections, and then to keep hard."
The woman looked knowingly at her husband, and there was a flash of some shared secret.
The dealer went on "When the slave has been gelded, he'll find it harder and harder to get an erection. So he'll be more and more tempted to tweak and massage his nipples to help him get an erection."
"I thought men without balls couldn't get erections...", the woman interrupted.
"No, man, I'm afraid you're wrong there. If their balls are taken at a very young age before they start erecting, they never learn. But a buck like this - he's 24, so he's probably been used to erections for at least 12 years - his body knows all about it. So he'll go on having erections. There's will be nothing to shoot, but his dick will still go hard. And, as I said, he'll spend time playing with himself, with his tits, to help it along - time he could be working for you."
"So what do you recommend?"
"Personally, although I know it disfigures the slave a bit, I'd recommend having his nipples sliced off. It's quick and easy for the doctor - a scalpel slid down parallel to the aureole, and they're gone. A quick burn with the cauteriser, and he won't even lose a day's work."
"I don't understand", the woman said.
The dealer came up to me and grasped my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I winced, and wanted to scream at him to leave me alone, but the guard had moved in on me, too.
"See, mam - the nipple at rest in a normal male lie this one with well developed pecs is about a quarter of an inch. If I stimulate it, like this...." He began to twist and tweak at my nipple, and I squirmed and wanted desperately to pull away. "... You can stretch it out to about half an inch. Like a lot of well-built guys, this slave has big, brown aureoles - big and dark, about the size of a quarter dollar, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes - but it's difficult to tell with all that hair on his chest..."
"Well, we just use the scalpel where the nipple comes out of the aureole - he's left with the big quarter dollars, but there's nothing in the centre. Nothing for him to grab hold of. Nothing to play with. Less risk of unsightly erections, especially as you intend to have him prancing around in the nude in the summer.
I guess you don't want your little girl to see him sporting a massive erection....."
"No! Certainly not! Yes, you're right, have them sliced off."
No... Surely I was going to wake up soon! They couldn't be talking about me like this. I wasn't some pet animal, I was a man, Steve, a man with a body of his own, with feelings...
The dealer was summing up. "So, it's agreed, then. Gelded, prosthetics, nipples sliced. You can pick him up in two days time. Come along and sign the papers."
They went to move off, and the dealer said "Lock him back up, guard. Be careful, though - these young bucks can be troublesome when they know they're going to be nutted tomorrow."
He also snapped at me "And you, slave, remember that there's still an absolute prohibition on touching your dick, unless you want all the other slaves to suffer. You'll just have to lie there and remember what jerking off was like - you'll never get to shoot another load of cum now."
The guard opened my cell and all I could do was go in and throw myself down on the sleeping pad. I know I've told you that I don't think that guys should sob or cry - well, I'm ashamed to say, I almost did then! I was going to be turned into a eunuch, and have my nips sliced off, just because some guy didn't think he could trust me around his wife and kid! Fucking hell, I'm no pervert - there's no way I'd ever touch a kid. Mind you, the wife was a bit of a turn on.... No! I shouldn't think things like that. I know she'd looked appreciatively at my dick and my balls, so perhaps...... NO! Stop that. But it was too late anyway. They'd decided. They'd take me down to that fucking doctor tomorrow morning, and within an hour or so I'd no longer be a man.
Although I didn't cry, I kept cursing the fates all night, and I didn't sleep at all. The slaves around me had all heard the conversation, and I could tell by the way that they were looking at me that they were sorry for me, but, of course they couldn't speak, or touch me. All they could do was look out of their cells at me, and try to show me, by their expressions, that they understood the horror I was experiencing.
I was hungry, too - they didn't give me any supper that evening. One of the guards said to the other "This buck's going to lose his 'nads tomorrow. So they're cutting down on his food already, to make sure he doesn't go to fat."
I tossed and turned, and I suppose I did sleep eventually, as there was the rattling of the keys as my cell was unlocked. They'd come to take me off to lose my manhood.
End Of Part 2