SURPLUS SALE II: TAKING THE SLAVES HOME
by Bill Smith
The five brand new slave owners took the cheap leashes furnished them by the sales agents and fastened them to the slave collars of their new possessions. Overwhelming pride ran through all five of them as they hooked the leashes to the collar rings and ran their hands over the naked hides of their purchases hardly able to believe that they now owned lock, stock, and barrel these beautiful pieces of flesh standing meekly before them.
"I've never seen anything quite so pathetic," one of the sales agents laughed. "You guys are so horny I doubt you can even walk unless you unload. First time owners are usually that way if they're under 30," he winked. "They just can't wait to try out their new purchases. Don't worry, we'll let you use the stock barn over there if you don't mind getting a little dirty straw on you here and there. Not much privacy - no individual stalls or anything - but at least there's a place to fuck your new boys before starting home with them."
He pointed to a nearby barn where we saw some other new purchasers with their slave boys already being put to use. There the newly purchased slaves were either on their backs in their straw with their legs wide apart and over their head with their holes fully exposed, on their hands and knees with their asses positioned for a good fucking doggie-style, or on their knees with their mouths already opened wide for swallowing their new master's prick with a resigned look on their faces. It was hard to tell whether these other slaves were looking forward to the forthcoming activities or whether they had learned long ago to just accept their fate and hide whatever they might feel about being fucked so publicly like this.
"Want to use the facilities here, walk home stiff legged and dripping, or just fuck your slaves in public on the way home? Doesn't matter to me one way or the other."
The five of us took one look at each other and unanimously thanked the sales agent for his offer of the stock barn. Hurriedly we tugged on our slaves' collar leashes and joined the other masters in the barn who were already undressing, getting their slaves positioned, and making use of some lube being passed around courtesy of the sales agent. As we five started to strip, those who had beat us to the barn were already plunging into their slave's holes and within a short time the place was filled with moans of submission, an occasional squeal of pain, grunts of passion, the smell of warm lubricant, hot semen, and sex sweat. As the action heated up, butts were being smacked, gasps of pain were heard occasionally, groans of submission, and the steady sound of heavy breathing, skin rubbing skin, and sighs of pleasure filled the air. To the experienced ear of the sales agents, it was the familiar sounds emanating from most any slave training facility or the rutting sheds of the slave breeding farms located throughout the area. To those new to slaves, like ourselves, it was the sound of unrequited delight and the exquisite relief one found in using bodies whose sole function at the moment was offering us pleasure.
All of us weren't satisfied with one round and, as soon as we had shot a full load into our new purchases, we started in again as most around us were also doing. A good 30 minutes later, George, Jacob, and myself were totally drained, but Bret and Jeff humped away for another 10 minutes or so before they finally rolled off the backs of their newly purchased boys.
When we looked around, most of the other buyers had left - only two were left. One was having his slave, a handsome black boy, fuck himself on his owner's still stiff shaft, the boy gently lowering himself up and down on his master's prick as the owner lay passively below him, obviously too tired to fuck the slave directly. The other had his slave, a heavy hung Latino, sucking on his now limp prick as if somehow the slave might be able to excite him once again despite his being totally drained by the Latino slave already.
"You guys must have pumped a gallon of spunk into those slaves," the sales agent smirked. "When was the last time you got off, anyway? I thought you'd never get through so I could close up the barn here."
"Thank you, sir," Bret managed to gasp out as he finally withdrew from his slave's ass. "I never knew sex could be this good," he smiled at the agent.
"Having your own boy at your disposal is always best," the agent said. "Even though I have access to thousands of the offerings here at the market each and every day, I still like it best when I'm fucking my own slave boy that I bought last year. Something about actually owning them that makes the difference, I think. It's just more satisfying knowing their body is all yours anytime you want it anyway you want. But enough chit-chat. I need to close up and you need to get these slaves to their new homes."
"That we do," Bret laughed, "although their legs are going to be covered in cum leaking out of their hole before we get home. Everyone will know just by looking at them what we've been up to."
"Who cares?" the agent replied. "Everyone knows slaves are to be used, so you don't need to be embarrassed about a little cum dripping down the back of their thighs. That would be fine if you were taking the slaves to a neighborhood where people are used to seeing slaves. But my guess is you boys live down in the low-rent district where slaves are rarely seen, let alone beauties like these. Just seeing a collared neck is a phenomenon down in those districts, let alone a totally naked body on a leash. You'll need to sneak them home if you don't want to see them raped or even kidnaped."
"You're right about seldom seeing a slave down where we live other than a few old ugly municipal slaves fixing the streets now and then or the occasional black-market slave being featured in the back room of a bar.
"Oh, so you do have slaves for sale down there?" the agent asked.
"Just some real runty culls bought dirt cheap off some wholesaler or some fresh meat kidnapped far enough away he can't be traced. The bars either buy them cheap and then set up as the backroom whores at a fee everyone can afford or peddle them off a real low price without papers. You pay your price and take your chances that way, but few of them are worth much anyway - scrawny, ugly, used up, or, if they are hung well, fucked to death by the time we see them. Buying slaves illegally usually ends up with you owning nothing - not with the papers to prove you actually own the bastards. Besides, most of them haven't had any training to speak of and are totally unbroken unless they're stolen bred slaves. That means you have to keep them chained up all the time and always have a whip handy to get anything out of them. That's what the bars do with their boys: chained up to saw horses in the back room with a gag in their mouth and wide open holes so used it almost turns you off. If you buy a boy in a back alley, he's heavily shackled, gagged, and usually plugged so he can barely walk. Get him home and he won't do nothing until you take a stun gun to him, whip him raw, or starve him to death. Of course, some buyers like a slave that hates getting fucked - raping them is half the fun as they scream and curse when you're skewering them. But many of them die on you if you're not careful - impacted with worms a lot of times, ridden with some sexual disease, or, most likely, tubercular with all their exposure to the cold and poor diet. Besides, most of them are short-changed in the dick and overall looks department - anyone hung even half-way decent who is even interesting to look at is sold off to the legitimate dealers. "
"That's just what I thought," the agent said. "Nobody down there can afford anything for themselves, yet alone anything decent looking."
"I hadn't thought about what a sensation these handsome slaves naked as the day they were born will cause down in the slums. Have you got anything to hide them in until we get home? A big box, maybe or some old dirty clothes. Once we get them in our apartments they'll be O.K. as long as we don't let them out."
"We've got some old clothes we rip off those newly captured prior to their training that we keep in that little shed over there just for this purpose -sometimes we need to take a slave into areas not used to slaves and we generally cover them up, including their collars, until we get them safely delivered. Help yourself. No one will notice a few items gone. Besides, that's what the rags are for."
With that invitation, we quickly routed around, found some decent coverings of old pants, some ragged turtle-neck shirts that would cover their slave collars, and a few lengths of rope to keep the pants up. Shoes and socks weren't needed nor was underwear - few free people in our neighborhoods could afford such luxuries. When we had them `dressed' in the loose baggy pants and their old dirty shirts, they looked little different than any one else trudging home from a long day at the factories other than their good looks and radiant good health, both hidden by fitting them with old baseball caps pulled low on their foreheads. To maintain security, we tied the cheap plastic leash around the base of their balls and ran the cord out the top of their pants to our hand, maintaining a good grip at all times so the slaves didn't get any ideas about running off. We knew people wouldn't notice the cord if we kept the slaves close to us and, as even we knew,
slaves seldom caused the slightest bit of trouble when you had their balls practically in your grip. Our slaves quickly dressed themselves with the rags, but found the feel of clothing strange after being naked for so long and wiggled around a bit until they got use to it although it was obvious they preferred the freedom of movement being naked afforded them and which they had gotten used to over the years. Since the slaves' faces were too good looking to not attract attention, we ordered them to look down at the ground at all times and simply follow the tugs on their leashes when following us home.
The ruse worked just as the agent had suggested. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to 10 people trudging home from a hard day of work dressed in the typical outfits of the working poor. Even the cum pouring out of our slave's asses didn't matter - the pants simply soaked it up as we walked along and the resultant stains weren't noticeable in that the pants were so dirty and stained to start with, a few more dark spots didn't matter. Nor did their huge hard-ons tenting up in the baggy trousers prove to be a problem. Most workers in the low rent district showed hard half the time due to their inability to find enough sexual outlets in their bleak world. After all, it wasn't as if anyone had slaves to conveniently keep them drained and free from any sexual frustration. Being poor and single in this world and being in chronic sexual need were synonymous unless you were married to your right hand but even that only went so far with real need. I reflected as to how you never saw men sporting boners in the rich districts. Their bevy of ever willing slaves, male and female dependent on their preference, took care of their needs long before it became public. Yes, I mused, the thought of making slaves available at low cost to the masses would solve a lot of problems - starting with all that sexual frustration you saw in my neighborhood each and everyday. An attractive compliant slave boy at your beck and call would solve a lot of frustration in this world as the rich had already obviously discovered. Now maybe it was our turn for a change now that breeding slaves in huge quantities had lowered the price down to affordability even for us. Hooray for all those busy rutting sheds that were proving so productive.
As I looked over at my particular slave, the handsome Latino with his full head of black hair, his dashing good looks, and creamy brown skin, I realized he could take care of my needs as well as my friends and still be able to address some of my neighbor's sexual issues for a fee. In fact, all five of us could set up a small bordello right there in the neighborhood and not only offer a solution to our neighborhood's chronic sexual frustration but make a considerable sum ourselves - perhaps enough to cover a good part of the monthly payments if they were managed right. We had so many frustrated single women, divorcees, and old widows down in our neighborhood they alone could use up his services if the fee was affordable. But the male market was more likely. Men in our neighborhood preferred to fuck males: no complications with pregnancy; no need for birth control; no confusion about `loving' anyone; and males were always better when it came to sucking you off - they knew what it was all about and went about the task without any fuss generally. Besides, most males, even male slaves, had asses much tighter than any pussy and when their anal muscles gripped your prick just before shooting off, you knew you were going to get drained properly. Nevertheless, my Latino slave had the sexy look and the huge dick woman liked so there were possibilities, but the men I knew liked those looks and equipment even more it seemed.
I shared this thought with my four friends as we led our new purchases swiftly to their new homes in the ghetto. At first they wanted to keep the slave's goodies confined to just our own use, but after a couple more miles and some reflection, they realized a healthy, well-trained slave could not only take care of all our needs but still have plenty of energy left to satisfy dozens of others, male and female, as well. I suggested $10 a use with even three neighbors a day, and we'd have more than enough to meet the monthly payments even taking their food costs into account.
"Say I used by slave four times a day myself and the rest of you used him at least once apiece," George, ever analytical, thought aloud. "That's only taking it up the ass or whatever eight times a day. It won't hurt them to get fucked 12 or more times a day once they're well broken in and used to it. Hell, at the training center I work for part time, they train slaves to take up to 20 clients a day when they're being trained for the brothels or for party use. Even then, they tell me a well-trained slaveboy can last up to ten to twenty years being fucked like that if you exercise him well and feed him properly. And if they're sucking us all off, think of all the protein snacks they'd be getting which would cut down on what we had to feed them. They say a cup of hot cum is equal to a half-pound of slave chow in nourishment. Of course," he laughed, "a full cup of cum is a hell of a lot of loads being swallowed."
"That Italian of mine could probably handle the load," Jeff chimed in. "When I fucked him over and over back in the barn he grunted and groaned like he could do it all day with a big smile on his face. I think he likes getting fucked instead of always having to do the fucking himself with no relief, like with that lady that owned him last. The agent told me he had to fuck her six or seven times a day on the average and that didn't count when she loaned him out to her lady friends. That's pretty exhausting day in and day out when you think about it. No wonder he seemed so eager to have me buy him."
"Oh, Jeff, he just liked the fact you're well built yourself and as young as he is," Jacob joined the conversation. "If you were a slave on the auction block, wouldn't you want a master who had a decent body, was young enough to still be attractive, and, in your case, have a good sized dick to boot?"
"Yeah, but all things being equal, I'd like a rich master who had a nice house and a lot of luxuries around, not just some poor jerk like me," Jeff replied.
"Nothing satisfies like a nice body and a good prick," Jacob replied. "That's why all those slaves down at the construction sites are always begging me to fuck them."
"Yeah," Jeff shot back, "but a slave could always hope for a master young, well hung, AND rich. If you were a slave, Jacob, you know damned well you'd be fucked around the clock with your body and equipment. Since that's a given, wouldn't you want an owner who had a nice young body, a big dick for you to suck and take up your ass, and some pleasant surroundings with a few luxuries thrown in, like air-conditioning, good quality slave chow, and a nice rug to sleep on when you weren't being used"
"Have to agree with you on that, Jeff," Jacob replied. "I'm not so sure I would mind being a slave under those cushy circumstances, especially if I got showed off in public a lot."
"You've love it and you know it," Jeff laughed. "I'm surprised you haven't sold yourself to a dealer already the way I saw you posing back at the slave dealers."
"Well, if I could be assured of the right buyer," Jacob laughed with a wink. "In the interim, I'm going to enjoy that hunk I bought for myself."
"Can't have it all," George said. "A slave's lucky to stay out of the mines, let alone get fussy about whose fucking him."
"Those newly enslaved down at the courthouse don't give a damn who fucks them or how much as long as they get fed and aren't sent down to the salt mines or assigned to one of the city's road gangs," Bret added. "Everything's relative as far as a slave is concerned. A withered old mistress with yellowed skin and more wrinkles than skin who demands a good fucking five times a day while she beats their butt is better than the living hell of the mines. Every slave, even the brand new ones, know that, so I figure these slaves think they're damn lucky to be bought by us, even if we do decide to have them fucked around the clock. Don't you agree, slaveboy" he directly asked his own slave being led along by his tight genital leash.
"Yes, master," the boy answered immediately without lifting his eyes up from the road.
"Yes, what, slaveboy?" he prompted with a jerk to the leash.
The 18-year-old American slave was obviously confused at this new question, but knew he had to say something. "Being fucked steadily by whoever master wants is fine if that is what my master wants. It is much better, as you suggest, master, than being sold to the mines or having to service an ugly old mistress all the time although I would, of course, work in the mines or try to please the old mistress if my master so desired."
"A clever answer, slaveboy. But would you like getting fucked a good ten to twenty times a day?" Brett pursued the slave's response.
"No master, probably not, but a slave has no choice in the matter. He is to please his master in whatever the master wants."
"What would you like better if you did have a choice, slave?" Brett teased the slave.
"Fucking a young woman of my own choice, master, if you want the absolute truth. But slaves have no choice in their lives - it is the master's choice that matters."
"Well said, slave," Bret replied. "All of us, even slaves I suppose, can dream of a better life, although I might suggest you are as close to a good life as a slave is lucky enough to have - at least for now."
"Yes, master. I appreciate that and will do anything, anything at all, to try to maintain that good life," the slave said humbly and with considerable conviction.
With that, Bret knew he had made a good choice with his recent purchase. He was obviously well trained as well as totally accepting of his status. He only hoped his friends had been as fortunate in their own choices of slaves. He could hardly wait to get his new slave home and into his own bed where he fully intended to fuck him steadily for the next 12 hours if all went well.
Just then, they ran across a `street dealer' trying to sell a slave right there on the street.
"You know a lot of those slaves bought up at the court house are being resold by street dealers if they're young, good looking, and hung like a horse," Bret commented as we all studied the slave being offered. "I see more and more of them right outside the courthouse anymore, peddling their wares who are all close shackled and in those tight stretch semi-transparent slave shorts that show everything they have."
The slave being offered for sale right in front of us was a very well built boy not a day over 18 sporting a huge hard-on through his near transparent skin-tight shorts that looked to be at least 12 inches long and thick as a donkey with tits so big on his muscular chest they looked like they belonged on a woman. As we stopped briefly to watch, every once in a while, the dealer peddling him would reach over and stroke the boy back to a full erection so he showed well all the time or pinched his big tits so they were kept swollen also. As I stood and watched, two professional athletes looked him over thoroughly, pulled down his shorts and finger fucked him a while to test his tightness, I suppose, and then kneaded his balls to see how full they were I guess. They even sucked his tits a little until both of them swelled up a bit. While they were doing all that, a middle aged woman asked to feel the slave's body also, including a lot of stoking that huge prick until I thought the boy was going to spill. Before long, she bid $40,000 for the boy right then and there, but the two athletes, built like brick shit-houses themselves, outbid her finally at $43,000. She was ticked at losing the slave boy, but the two athletes made it up to her. They invited her home with them where they said she could fuck the new purchase to her heart's content as long as they could watch. She thanked them and, once the dealer had all the ownership papers and bill of sale filled out properly, the four of them took off for the athlete's apartment. I imagine that poor slave was really drained before that day was up as well as have some solid loads packed up his ass.
Our own slaves, judging from the huge erections tenting out in front of their trousers, were as interested in the scene as we were and were obviously turned on by the two hunky athletes, the slave being offered for sale, or the woman interested in buying the well-hung slave for herself. When the slave sold for $43,000, they looked shocked and downright envious. I suppose I would be envious too if I had sold for a mere $20,000. To a slave, purchase price was an evaluation of their worth. To them, the slave sold to the athlete was obviously twice as good as they were and they were apparently trying to ascertain whether it was due to his big juicy tits, his long, thick prick, his very muscular body, his sultry good looks, or just plain luck to run across buyers with that much money to spend on a slave.
The five new owners made only one stop on the way home with their new purchases: the slave supply shop. There they each purchased a few necessary supplies: a 50 pound sack of regular slave chow (cheap and nourishing but tasteless), a large tube of lube, a permanent leash, and a cheap cast iron neck collar and genital band that was available in different sizes and widths and which could be installed easily with a special unbreakable glue. The collar had a place where a simple aluminum owners identification and address tag was glued on to assure everyone would know which slave belonged to whom. The genital bands had a smaller but similar identification band to demonstrate ownership of the slave's sex organs as well (as well as give the slave an important chronic reminder), but were mainly installed to make sure the slave's organs were prominently displayed at all times, were convenient and readily accessible at all times, and were "out of the way" when serious work was required. They each also purchased the traditional slave enema kit, essential when slaves were being fucked regularly, and the standard body shave equipment. Altogether, it set each of the new owners back about $50 since the equipment was all just standard fare and certainly nothing showy or special.
The slave supply shop featured a special display where a fully harnessed slave, well built and no more than 20, was putting on quite a show as he jumped on tippy-toe to the task of swallowing and then fully sucking on their new line of super-sized dildos suspended from the ceiling above him while a handler, whip in hand, supervised. Once capturing a dildo in his mouth, the slave proceeded to swallow the enormous piece of soft plastic all the way down his throat so that his throat muscles outlined the intrusion while he massaged it still balanced on his toes. With the crack of a whip over his back, the slave spit that dildo out and then jumped to capture another one, even bigger, suspended above, again swallowing it whole the minute he had it. He was clothed in a tight fitting pair of pants that indicated the show was going to move out into the street shortly, especially since the suspended dildos were on a rack that the handler could hold over the slave's head outside. The trained slave was especially interesting in that although he was body shaved, the shop had let his facial hair grow out for several days to give him a rugged look that blended in well with his leather harness. A tag on his harness announced his asking price: $33,000 - not bad for a cute trained animal like this who certainly demonstrated he knew how to suck anything put to him, but it could be those pants, despite a decent bulge, hid just an average dick.
The slaves were made to carry the feed and equipment in large bags over their shoulders, each happy that at least there would be something for them to eat and that they wouldn't be fucked dry with all that lubricant in tow. Not one of the new purchases ever entertained any thoughts about not being fucked regularly. Every slave handler they'd ever come across implied that's what slaves did; the sales agents certainly made it clear that's why anyone was buying them; and their new owners had already demonstrated less than an hour ago that fucking them was why they had bought them. Even now the talk was about how many times a day they would be fucked and by whom; not whether or not they would be fucked. A well lubed asshole was essential for such usage they all knew and the purchase of the big tubes of lube was reassuring.
But the newly installed genital rings would take some getting used to they were discovering as they walked along. Somehow, having your organs forced out in front of you changed your center of balance and it took a while to adjust your walking style to accommodate to the change, especially when you were heavy hung as all of them were. It also changed their appearance in the dirty old pants - a big bulge was now noticeable even in the loose fitting pants even when they weren't erect. The slaves could only imagine what it would look like if they had been fitted in the tight fitting ultra-thin lycra shorts like some slaves were outfitted with where dress was required. It was obvious, thought, that when they were stripped down to nothing, as would be their usual lot, their sex would now be prominently displayed at all times and certainly convenient for an owner's handling.
The cast iron collar surprised them in its heaviness and at first they tried to hang their heads down as a reaction to the weight. But they were all three inches tall so it forced the slave's heads up at all times. The tight fit around their necks was a constant reminder they were no different than any other livestock now and the collar would tell the world exactly what they were with absolute clarity. Right now, their turtle-neck shirt covered the heavy device, but, once the shirt was off, the collar publically announced they were bought objects just as their thick, heavy genital rings told everyone their sex was there for all to use if it so pleased their owner and, if not, was certainly to be fully displayed for everyone's enjoyment.
Within 15 minutes, they were at their new homes and respectively, each were told to remove their clothing - the last clothing they would wear for a long, long time they figured , unpack their supplies, give themselves an complete enema with the new kit, shower, lube themselves completely, and then position themselves kneeling beside the bed so they could suck their new master to a full erection before leaning over the side of the bed for a good fucking. The slaves remembered to show their asses well as they removed their clothing. They all knew exactly why they had been bought and prepared themselves for heavy usage.
Jeff's young Italian slave had part of his harness on as Jeff ordered him on his hands and knees to be fucked doggie style. Jacob's hunky slave found a old motorcycle to sit on to display himself in Jacob's workshop before Jacob had him bend over the motorcycle to take the first of many ass fuckings that night. Jacob liked a slave that was well hung, muscular, and eager to please. All of the new slaves, Jacob's included, had to utilize their sucking skills immediately before being fucked. Bret's American boy seemed to know every trick in the book when it came to bring a master pleasure.
Amazingly, all five owners followed the exact same procedure with little variation. They all wanted to be sucked to a full erection before fucking their new purchase; they all wanted to initially fuck their new slave either over the side of their modest little bed or over the arm of a worn old armchair. Only later in the evening would variation occur.
Bret had his American slave on his back with his legs up over his shoulders most of the night because he liked to see his slave's reactions as he steadily fucked him. Jeff had his Italian slave on his hands and knees most of the night as he fucked him doggy-style, the technique he used most frequently when fucking the construction slaves he worked alongside of. George had his black slave on his knees with his mouth and throat wrapped his new owner's shaft most of the night - George loved to mouth fuck probably because he was tired of assfucking, the technique he used to "open up" the new slaves at the training facility he worked at. Jacob fucked his muscular slave on his back for a while but then he got on his own back and had the slave fuck himself on his massive tool for hours and hours until the slave could no longer support himself with his aching thighs whereupon Jacob had the slave get on his hands and knees and open himself up wide for a last round of "opening up." I had my Latino suck me off to a full discharge, then lick my entire body, then I fucked him on his back with his legs wide apart and his hips uplifted for my entry, and finally, lowered my ass onto the slave's swollen organ to see what it would feel like taking such a huge shaft up my own backside. I wasn't disappointed with this last adventure. The Latino pumped into me gently until my prostrate was so stimulated I had about the best orgasm I have ever experienced - it shot all over the Latino's face, chest, and hair but I was hungry anyway and enjoyed licking it all off as a little late night snack. Since I had ordered the slave to not shoot off himself while fucking me, I then stroked him off to a full discharge which I took directly into my own mouth for yet an additional snack. The Latino's eruption was plentiful, thick, and very tasty with an unusual fresh taste I couldn't quite place. I realized then and there I could always sell this slave as a milk stud if I ever tired of him - he was a natural for that with his huge organ, his huge discharge, and the nice fresh taste of his output. Some old geezer into drinking a young stud's cum as a youth elixir would pay a pretty penny for this Latin gusher.
Overall, all five slaves were tired and sore by morning as were their new owners. No one budged from the beds until well past noon when hunger, a mass of sticky cum, and dry throats got slaves and masters into the showers and something to eat. Soon after another complete enema, a fresh lube, and then a total body shave, the slaves were put to fixing fried eggs, toast, and orange juice for their owners while pouring out a cupful of slave chow alongside a dish of water for their own nourishment as instructed.
Following a little exercise, the evening repeated itself for the main part all afternoon long. Positions were varied but outside of that, the slave's found their holes once more repeatedly pounded into, their throats stretched once again, and their stomachs filled with yet more batches of steamy hot cum.
By late afternoon, the cleanup and feeding procedure was again followed, this time in preparation for the joint meeting of the five new owners where the plan was to share their new slaves. That meant everyone, slaves and owners alike, were going to be mighty sore and chafed by morning - the slaves would know fully why they had been purchased; the owners would know they were certainly getting their money's worth.
As scheduled, the five met at my place since I had the largest apartment - two beds, two sofas, and some thick rugs on the floor. Our plan was to each sample all five new slaves, each doing whatever we wanted with the new bodies at our disposal and then, if our energy held up, pick out a favorite for the rest of the night, but a slave who wasn't our own for variety's sake.
The plan worked exactly as we had hoped. Everyone to a man loved my Latino's abilities in bed matched by his good looks; we all loved Jacob's hunky slave who apparently was totally heterosexual and resented being fucked himself but knew he could do nothing about it as a slave (it was his barely hidden resentment we enjoyed as much as anything); Jeff's Italian slave was charming in his passivity and ready acceptance of whatever we wanted him to do and he was certainly a looker; and Bret's American slave was cute and cuddly even when he moaned in pain from the heavy usage and a slightly breeding ass by this time. But George's black slave was the sensation. Three of us, myself included, had never bedded down a black and found the experience exotic, especially with such a well hung, good looking one as George had purchased. I think, before the night was over, George's black got fucked more than any of the others but it was hard to tell - every slave was well used that night, to put it mildly. George took a shine to my Latino, probably because he was one-eighth black reportedly but more likely because he was so well hung and muscular while I loved his own black.
So that's who I ended up with the rest of the night. I had George's black; Bret bedded down with Jacob's big heterosexual hunk in that he loved the sullen resentment that smouldered in his dark eyes as he was deeply fucked over and over and over; Jacob took Bret's American boy for a full evening of heavy fucking in that boy's unusually tight ass; and Jacob ended up with Jeff's harnessed Italian boy who not only groaned from his own soreness, but actually broke into tears when the huge well built hunk plunged up his hole all the way and started pumping so heavily the young boy thought he would be split in half before the night was over. The tears and groans were exactly what turned Jacob on and he made sure the slave under him was fucked so hard his crying and moaning only became more intense as he night wore on.
George's black slave had to douche everyone's cum from his hole before lubing and preparing for me to use him for the night. He seemed resigned to such heavy usage and was certainly something to look at as well as offered up a great fuck. My own long-haired Latino slave was used all sorts of ways that night and everyone appreciated his talent in both taking it up the ass for our utmost pleasure but his ability to take load after load directly down his throat with little fuss. Jeff's Italian slave was popular with all of us due to his ready acceptance of what was expected of him. His freshly slaved body was a real turn on and his well trained ass not only looked nice but was a real pleasure to fuck.
All five slaves were completely used up by night's end, but soon were doing their assigned household chores and recuperating for another busy night of heavy usage by their individual owners. But the night after that, we agreed we would draw straws on who got to use which slave, all of whom would be freshly shaved, lubed, and dripping hard by that time.
Like our slaves, by morning all five of us were totally spent. The slaves, well, they could barely move they were so sore and used. That day was spent recovering and the slaves were left alone outside of being ordered to do the simple household chores expected of any slave, like cleaning up the place, fixing our meals, helping us bath, doing the laundry and making our beds. Those chores kept them busy, even in my small apartment, but, once done, each of my friends took their slaves back to their own apartments where they could do the same. Before departing, we renewed our agreement to go back to using our own slaves that night, but meet again the following night for some serious sharing again. This next joint meeting, we would draw straws as to which slave got each of us for the night as a little change in routine. We also planned to discuss the possibility of renting the slaves out for some added income since the slaves were both eating more than we had thought they would; were using up lube and body shaving soap like crazy, and we still had to earn that $50 they had cost in equipment and original food supplies. All of us agreed the slaves had to be self-supporting at the very least and profit-earning hopefully.
That night, I again enjoyed using my handsome Latino who was still sore and sensitive, but fully able to satisfy me with both his now stretched hole and his suctioning mouth. Again, I found having a totally compliant body at my disposal heightened my sex drive and most of the night was spent pumping into the boy with little rest. My morning I was again exhausted and I suppose the Latino boy was also although he tried to mask it as he cleaned up the apartment and fixed my meals for me. Nevertheless, he grabbed some needed naps while I was doing the same.
The next night, I had him give himself a complete enema, body shave himself squeaky clean, lube himself heavily, and coat himself with some light oil that made his brown skin simply gleam in the soft lighting of my apartment. As he displayed himself for my inspection, he was already hard and dripping as I stroked him lightly, making sure he was ready for the nights adventures. Squeezing his balls I was pleased they felt full and ready for action, not too surprising since I had not let him unload for the past 24 hours despite a lot of stimulation to his body during that time. They say ordering a slave boy from ejaculating except on rare and special occasions (as a privilege granted by his master) is the best policy in that it keeps them ready and interested in sex at all times as well as showing well throughout the day. When they do get to shoot off with their owner's permission, you can simply see the sincere gratitude in their eyes as they buck and moan with each huge load delivered on command, relief evident in every muscle of their body. Tonight he would get a lot of use but I doubted any one of the owners using him would allow him to unload. It just wasn't good policy if we planned to rent them out in the next few days where they would need to display well with good hard pricks dripping and ready to go to attract customers willing to pay for their use.
That night went exactly as planned. All our slaves knew they were expected to display themselves well at all times which meant thrusting their organs out fully hard with their hands in back of their necks and their muscles tensed for the best display. Jacob suggested that, before we drew straws, we have the slaves beg to use them - a suggestion we all liked. This resulted in the slaves either thrusting their hips back and forth uttering their pleas to use them as their huge pricks dripped pre-cum copiously or, as a later refinement, on their knees with their hands on our chests, their mouths on our organs, and their legs spread wide pleading to use them that night. It was a real turn-on for all of us and even the slaves seemed to become even more aroused in following our commands.
Jacob's slave was the best at this. He had a lot to be proud of and didn't mind showing it off when given a chance. The more we were around Jacob's slave the more we realized he enjoyed being a slave and all that entailed in being an owned object of pleasure. In fact, he reveled in it - he loved being wanted and appreciated and responded very well to our praise of his talents. Like the other slaves, he enjoyed being raffled off by a short straw to a new master for the night. I was lucky enough to draw Jacob's hunky boy for my use that night.
Jeff ended up with Bret's American slaveboy who proved to be expert at sucking in addition to taking a good fuck. Since I was right next to the couple that night, it was fun hearing the American slave squeal and groan as Jeff rammed his huge shaft in and out of his ass repeatedly and gasping and choking as Jeff stuffed his mouth and throat. But Jeff told me later that the boy always remembered to tighten his ass muscles around his prick at just the right time and always swallowed his entire prick completely down his throat, proving he was very well trained as a bed buck. Jeff fucked Bet's American slave so many times that night the boy could hardly stand up straight the next morning, but now he certainly knew what being a slave was all about and realized his destiny now was to service those who could afford to own him.
Bret got George's black much to his delight as he found him a real turn-on. After fucking him soundly, he spilt a full load all over the black's body before having the slave suck him. Despite fucking him all night, the black slave never uttered a sound other than a few sighs, a few gasps of both pleasure and pain when he was really drilled, and a few pleas to be allowed to shoot off (denied of course in view of his pending rental) mixed with some very appropriate "Thank you, master"'s when he was allowed to rest occasionally.
Jacob got to seriously use my Latino boy which definitely turned him on, and George got to use Jeff's harnessed Italian now all charged up and ready to go. Jeff ended up getting Bret's American boy who proved to be a real treat once he was properly warmed up, especially now that he hadn't been allowed to gain any relief in 24 hours. That night was a real treat for all of us.
When my friend George stripped down to use his draw of Jeff's Italian slave that night, every slave present in the apartment took note. George's body was a real turn-on to every slave there (as well as us I might add) and he had a commanding stance that told every slave assigned to him they were going to be well fucked before the night was over. George was used to fucking slaves from his part-time work at the training center where he repeatedly fucked slaves to properly "open them up" prior to sale. He had the equipment to give a slave a fucking they wouldn't forget and which stretched their hole to its maximum. When he was through fucking the Italian slave that night, the Italian boy would never be the same again. From now on, he knew he was a slave whose destiny was to serve his masters without question and without pause. George just had that effect on slaves. No wonder that training center he worked at paid him well.
I found it arousing to have so much fucking going on all around me. Just hearing the moans of the slaves as they shifted their bodies around to best accommodate their user's bucking up their open holes; hearing their little gags and chokings as one of my friends rammed their pricks down their throat; hearing the slaves struggle to swallow yet another load of thick cream down into their stomachs; and even watching the slave's bodies break out in a deep sweat as they were ordered to lower their ass holes down onto our erect pricks and pump our dicks vigorously. The smell was overwhelming: a mixture of sweat, warm lube, hot semen, and the bodies natural odors when it is excited and fully aroused. Mix with that the heavy breathing all around you, the gasps from the body being pounded beneath you, and the overwhelming sense of power of having such beautiful bodies completely at your disposal and under your command lifted not just me, but all of us I think, into a new realm of sexual enjoyment. For the slaves - well it was a real lesson in what their lives would be like from now on. They knew it as well as we did and accordingly, they were struggling to gain what enjoyment they could from the commanded acts they were performing. By the end of that memorable night, I knew the slaves had done just that. To a body, they subtly begged us to be allowed to unload and when we eventually gave our permission, they thanked us profusely over and over for allowing them this relief. The gratitude in their eyes told us they were now true slaves to their own sexuality and saw us, their masters, as the only way to gain sexual satisfaction. It was exactly where slaves should be in their thinking, I mused. After all, I was the one that owned their body - it was only right I should decide when and if they ever found satisfaction outside of satisfying my own needs whenever I liked.
Tomorrow morning, we would decide about renting them out: how often, which ones on which days, how to best market them, how much to charge, and what, if any, restrictions we would place on their use. After all, we couldn't just rent them out to just anyone with the available cash - there were some really weird people out there who could damage our investments if we weren't careful! I envisoned displaying them on a small podium outside our doorsteps where they would attempt to entice customers any way they found worked. Selling them to four or five customers a day wouldn't hurt them for our own use, I figured, and they would easily earn a good $40 or $50 a day that way if the poor, but hard up, men and women in our neighborhood could come up with that much.
One thing I was certain of. What the slaves thought about being rented out wouldn't be given a thought by any one of the five of us. Slaves weren't involved in what happened to them; they did what their masters wanted regardless of what it was or how they `felt' about it. After all, we had never asked them about what they thought about being owned as mere property what they thought about us using them as their owner, what they thought about letting our friends use them all night long, or what they thought about being raffled off to the short straw for a long night of taking it up the butt or down their throats. Frankly, I don't think our slaves thought about it anymore than we did. They just accepted being slaves like we accepted being their owners. That's just the way it was and these five slaves, at least, had never known it any other way.