THE AFTERMATH (Or What Follows Next) Chapter 19: SOLD!
This is story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years.
Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris) "To see all my stories go to groups.yahoo.com/group/SlaveNow"
Chapter 19: SOLD!
Part 1: Andy
"If you're ready, gentlemen, then let's begin."
With these words the sale is now officially underway. The auctioneer's announcement is greeted with loud applause and cheering.
It seems to me that there is a particularly noisy element present at today's sale. This is most probably due to the hot weather and the amount of alcohol they consumed over lunch to quench their thirsty throats. It doesn't worry me too much. In fact, I enjoy a bit of boisterous activity at a sale; it makes for a more interesting afternoon. But I know from experience that these rowdy buyers will place great demands on the slaves as they stand on the block.
Good humouredly, they'll request the auctioneer to have a slave display himself in ways other than the usual posing and posturing routinely demanded of him. Apart from the usual flexing, stretching, twisting, crouching and bending that a slave is made to do when he is on the block, these buyers will eagerly make other requests of him.
I suspect the slaves in today's sale are in for an interesting afternoon. And we spectators, in all probability, are in for an entertaining spectacle. For me, the only downside to all this is that it will slow down proceedings and I'll have to wait longer for the chance to bid on lot 16.
Suddenly, the crowd cheers loudly as the first of today's offering is dragged onto the platform and led over to the block. This slave, lot I has pride of place in the selling order - a fact the ungrateful wretch doesn't appreciate.
His is protesting vocally and his protests alternate between uselessly pleading not to be sold and obscene abuse. He is struggling in his shackles and he pulls back against the chain attached to his collar in a vain attempt to escape. He is pathetic; he acts like so many other slaves when faced with their imminent placement on the block - he fails to accept the inevitability of his fate.
As the overseer, whose job it is to lead him to the auction block, yanks on his leash the slave stumbles and falls to his knees. He is unaware that the head overseer who has whip-driven him up the stairs is standing over him. Piteously, he cries out in pain as the whip cuts across his back again and again until he has no other option but to scramble to his feet and submit. Now he shuffles across the platform and awkwardly steps up onto the auction block where he stands sobbing and facing out towards the buyers.
As the buyers look at lot 1, they momentarily fall silent before breaking out in loud catcalls and jeering. And who can blame them. In all the time I have attended slave- auctions, it's doubtful if I have ever seen such a sorry specimen of a slave as this one.
Middle-aged, fat and balding, he doesn't possess one redeeming feature that would appeal to a master; quite the opposite - it has to be said that he lacks any appeal whatsoever. His soft, flabby body convulses with each of his sobs and his overhanging belly hides his miniscule genitalia from view. His humiliation is there for all to see and he hangs his head in shame.
The auctioneer struggles to make him heard over the shouts and jeers of the buyers. There are calls to "get him off", you have to be joking", "bring out a real slave" and "no one in his right mind will bid for him".
I feel sympathy for the auctioneer; it isn't his fault. I know from a previous conversation with Dave Matheson that this slave is a convicted felon who MUST be offered for sale today. If the truth be known, I doubt that Dave wants this sorry specimen included among the prime stock he has waiting to step up onto the block.
It had been his intention to use the slave to inject a bit of humour - at the slave's expense - into the opening of the auction, but his strategy had obviously failed. The hoped for light banter about the slave's comical appearance hadn't materialised; the hot weather and the semi-inebriated state of some buyers had prevented it.
The auctioneer shouts to make him heard and to their credit, the noisy element does quieten down and allow him to continue. He tells us that the slave has been enslaved for fraud and embezzlement and that, in being offered for sale, the court's judgement is being carried out. Wisely, he doesn't prolong the issue but now calls for "any bids"; none are offered. Three times he calls for bids but the buyers maintain their silence.
I wonder what the slave is thinking at this moment. He has lost his freedom, his former life and all his worldly goods. And even as a slave he is an abject failure. As he stands on the auction block, unable to attract any bids, his sense of his own worthlessness must be overwhelming. In the face of the buyers' indifference and scorn, he stands unwanted and rejected; a failure as a man, even more so as a slave.
After calling for bids from "any interested parties" and receiving none, the auctioneer declares the property as "passed in".
At this particular moment, the slave's future is unimaginably bleak. Unable to sell, he'll now become "property of the state" and he'll be sent to a quarry where he'll be put to work breaking large rocks into road metal for use in the construction and repair of country roads and city streets.
As I look at him, I imagine he'll be lucky to survive the soul destroying hard labour and whips of the overseers for longer than eighteen months to two years. I shiver as I contemplate his fate. He is paying a high price for his crime. He is now removed from the block to make way for lot 2 and taken away to the holding pens.
As lot 2 steps up onto the block, he receives a round of applause and from somewhere among the buyers, the comment is made "This is more like it. Now, THIS is a slave."
I look closely at lot 2 as he stands shyly on the block. He is a young slave - I guess his age at around eighteen - and he is neither handsome nor plain. I would describe him as comely with pleasant features and an open, appealing face under his cropped, sandy coloured hair.
For his age, he is very well developed with powerfully built, broad shoulders and a muscular upper body that tapers down to a trim waist. He has strong arms and legs and his chest is covered with an attractive, emerging hair covering that trails over the well- defined muscles of his belly to his trimmed pubes.
Looking at him, it is clear to see that he is country-bred and his nervousness is a clear indication that he isn`t accustomed to being publicly displayed. He lacks the sophistication of a more worldly pleasure slave and my guess is that he is worker used in the fields - certainly the deep brown colour of his skin would suggest this is so - rather than the bedroom. However, it seems to me that he possesses a potential that would see him easily trained for service as a bed buck.
As my gaze roams over his muscular, naked body, I feel the first stirrings of my arousal. lot 2 is indeed a worthy offering and judging from the murmurs of approval from my fellow buyers, I'm not the only one to think so. His presence on the auction block does much to sweeten the mood of the buyers after the fiasco of lot 1.
He appears to be shy and unsure of what to do next. He looks out into the crowd and I note the look of bewilderment in his eyes. I find this youthful shyness and his unworldliness to be charming - I am quite smitten by this slave and wonder - should I bid for him?
Then turning to the auctioneer, he seems to seek direction; his pleading eyes ask "what should I do?" Not unkindly, the auctioneer indicates to an overseer to assist the slave. The overseer gains the slave's attention by lightly tapping his arse with a cane and then patiently guides him through his routine.
The slave begins shyly at first, but spurred on by the many shouts of encouragement from the buyers, he is soon at his ease - so much so that his long, thick cock is now rampantly erect and at a forty-five degree angle to his belly.
Looking down, I see that Obadiah Clements is leaning forward, leering at the slave and lasciviously licking his lips. I wonder if this slave is one of the comely ones that had caught his eye earlier. Then he asks.
"Auctioneer, can we have the slave turn around so that we can assess him from behind, please?"
Viewing the slave from the rear only re-enforces my already favourable impression of him. His broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist and his small, shapely buttocks, which are divided by their deep cleft, curve into the muscular columns of his legs. The powerful back muscles, highlighted by the sun, ripple and dance under his coating of oil.
Again, Obadiah asks.
"Could you move his feet apart and have him bend over?"
The slave assumes the required position and then anticipating Obadiah's next request, the auctioneer orders the slave to spread the cheeks of arse and to expose his hole for scrutiny.
As he does so, I wonder what his feelings are. Had I been able to see his face, I would note the deep crimson of his blush of embarrassment. His display is rewarded with appreciative comments from the crowd.
However, Obadiah still isn't finished with the slave. He now asks.
"Can we have the boy on his knees, facing the front and with his legs spread wide, please auctioneer?"
The auctioneer allows sufficient time for us to appraise the slave as he kneels in this position before asking.
"Are you all done gentlemen? If so, then let's move on."
Ordered to stand and display, the slave now faces the buyers - the physicality of his presence is an enticing invitation to the buyers to bid for the privilege of owning him.
Briefly, I consider bidding for him. However, my strong desire to buy the slave, Grigor - and the more practical matter of having insufficient funds for two purchases - persuades me otherwise.
Nevertheless, I follow his sale with interest. It will be interesting to see who buys him and for what purpose. Standing alone on the auction block he seems so vulnerable and I find myself hoping that he is sold to a kind master - one who'll treat him well and provide him with a good home.
I always find the bidding process incomprehensible. I have difficulty with the rapidity with which the bids and counter bids are directed at the auctioneer. So, whenever I'm not actually bidding, I show more interest in who is bidding rather than the bid itself.
There is no doubt that the young slave engenders a lot of interest among the buyers - he is after all a most desirable property - and I'm not surprised at the strength of the bids he attracts. I note with concern that with each bid, it is Obadiah Clements who counter bids for him. As I watch, it becomes obvious that Obadiah really wants this slave and is prepared to pay handsomely for him.
By a process of elimination the final bidding is between Obadiah and another elderly buyer who is unknown to me. Eventually, Obadiah's persistence pays off and the auctioneer brings his hammer down on the sale.
"SOLD! Lot 2 is sold to Mr Obadiah Clements. I offer you my congratulations, Mr Clements. You have purchased well, sir. "
"Indeed I have. Indeed I have." Obadiah acknowledges and smiles broadly as those nearest to him add their congratulations to those of the auctioneer.
I can't help but overhear Obadiah's answer to the question as to what use he'll put his new slave to.
"He's quite delightful, isn't he? For the moment, the slave will serve as a house servant. But if he works hard and pleases me he could become my body servant eventually. And of course, if he doesn't please me, well then, I'll use him on my litter. After all, he's built like a young ox, isn't he?"
Momentarily, I feel regret that the slave has been sold to Obadiah. I doubt very much that the slave will have either a kind master or a good home. My guess is that Obadiah will abuse him. But then, I remind myself that this is the true nature of slavery.
A slave sold at auction doesn't have control of his life and therefore can't choose his master. Who owns him is determined by the market forces of the auction process. It's simply a case of a buyer's determination to own him and the amount of money he is prepared to spend to do so.
As the slave steps down off the block, he nervously looks around seeking out his new master. I see him recoil in horror when he sees to whom he now belongs. With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, he is lead away and placed in a holding cage to await Obadiah's pleasure. His eyes are misted with tears.
One by one, the other lots are led up to the auction block and sold. I have to say that the stock offered at today's sale is top quality; in fact I'll go further and describe them as superb. I try to think back to when I last attended an auction where the slaves were of such a high calibre - I can't recall one in recent memory. The slaves, without exception - I'll forget about Lot 1 who was an aberration - are prime, young stock. None are aged over thirty and I suppose my slave, Toby would rank among the oldest.
As the slaves are brought to the auction block, displayed and sold, my earlier assumption that the buyers would place great demands on them proves correct. Repeatedly, there are shouted requests from the buyers' stand to have the slave "bend and spread", "show us his hole", "get him to play with his nipples", or "let's see him stroke his dick".
These are reasonable requests and the slaves' responses, depending on their natures, range from quiet acceptance to embarrassment and shame. Annoyingly for me, it does slow up proceedings and I have to wait that much longer for my chance to bid. But we are gradually moving closer to my goal.
There is very little to differentiate the slaves; they are all superb. But from time to time, there is one that interests me more than his fellows - and there were two such slaves, lots 8 and 11.
When lot 8 mounted the block, he immediately caught my eye. With the exception of my three slaves, he is by far and away the most handsome slave in the day's offering. Aged in his mid-twenties, he is tall with black curly hair and brown eyes. However, despite his good looks he has one fault; he has been allowed to "run to seed." Looking at him, I see that his master has indulged him and fed him all the wrong foods.
The slave has all the hallmarks of a "pet slave", one who has been spoiled by an over- indulgent master. Personally, I regard this as shameful neglect of the slave on the part of his owner.
Unfortunately, there are those masters who buy a young slave for their beds and then, through a misguided sense of affection for the slave, spoil him with soft living and the wrong foods. I would categorise lot 8 as such a slave.
Eventually, the bodies of these slaves deteriorate to such a condition that they repulse their masters who then lose interest in them and sell them. I see this as most unfair to the slave who really doesn't have any say in how he is treated - to my mind this is a denial of a master's responsibility to his slave.
I did treat Toby as a pet but I never over-indulged him; his diet was strictly controlled by me and was confined to the recommended daily allowance of slave food. Although, I did give him an occasional piece of fruit as a reward for pleasing me - but this was very, very rare. After all, as a caring slave-owner, I owed it to Toby to keep him healthy and his body "trim, taut and terrific". To do otherwise would have been gross negligence on my part.
When I looked at lot 8, I felt annoyance at his master's no doubt well-meaning neglect of him. Underlying this neglect however, it is easy to see the slave has an impressive physique. Despite the flabby muscle tone and a paunchy belly, I see the slave's true potential. With the right master the slave could be restored to his "former glory". Hard labour would soon tighten up his body and turn his belly flab into hard muscle.
Fortunately for this slave, he is sold to an owner who also recognised his hidden potential and, after his restoration; this owner will use him as a pony for his rickshaw. I am pleased for the slave.
Another slave who attracts my attention is lot 11.We hear from the auctioneer that he is aged twenty and is a newly captured soldier from the same border skirmishes that saw lot 16 enslaved. Ethnically, these two are as different as chalk and cheese and my guess is that they come from opposing armies.
"My" slave, lot 16 is tall, fair-skinned and blond; whereas lot 11 is shorter, sturdier, more hirsute and with an olive-skin and black hair.
But what attracts me to lot 11 is his wildness; he is indeed an unbroken slave. He has an air of belligerence about him that doesn't augur well for his immediate future. I decide his new master will need to work hard to establish his authority over this slave.
As he is dragged to the auction block, he struggles and kicks in the grasp of three burly overseers; one leads him by the chain attached to his collar as the other two manhandle him into position. He'd fought his handlers all the way from the holding race, up the steps, across the platform and on to the block and several times we'd heard the sound of leather striking his naked flesh - yet not once did he cry out.
I have a grudging respect for his bravery and unwillingness to submit - yet submit he must.
Forced up onto the block, he stands proud and defiant; he obviously still thinks of himself as a soldier and not yet as a slave. These are traits I admire in a free man but a slave is unworthy of them. A slave doesn't need to fell pride in anything other than in his master's possession of him and any show of defiance can't be tolerated. Eventually it will be whipped out of him and he`ll yield to the inevitable.
I watch as his body trembles with emotion - I wonder is it from fear or anger? He glares out at the buyers with hate-filled eyes and his whole manner is menacing. This slave is indeed rebellious and I note that the overseers don't carry their usual canes; instead each is armed with a thick, leather strap. No doubt they expected this slave to play up and had armed themselves accordingly.
The slave acts as if he is still a freeman with rights rather than the slave he is. His bearing suggests this much to the buyers who treat him with derision. They seek to humiliate him by calling on the auctioneer to exhibit his naked body in ways that truly emphasise his new status.
The slave, as I expected, refuses to co-operate with the auctioneer's demands and stands firm. His resolve is matched by that of the auctioneer who has had considerable experience in handling difficult slaves. He calls on the three overseers for assistance.
The determined overseers restrain the slave but it takes several very painful slaps to his back and arse with their straps to quieten him. Held fast in their grip, he is now powerless and the overseers force him into a position that better displays his body to the buyers.
His response to a buyer's request to the auctioneer to "stroke his cock" is to struggle violently in a vain attempt to break free. Futilely, he roars out his anger and shame as an overseer obligingly brings him to an unwilling erection.
For all the trouble he causes, this slave proves to be a very popular lot with the buyers. Whilst he exhibits a number of regrettable traits - namely his pride and resentfulness - he has an appeal to those owners who feel challenged to break and train a slave very much as a horse-trainer does with a high-spirited colt.
These owners are prepared to pay a high price for a slave who exhibits high spirits and bidding for this slave is keen. Eventually, he is sold to an owner, a friend of mine, who`ll certainly break him but will then use him kindly and wisely. I know him to be a firm but just master and the slave is lucky - his transition from free man to slave will be easier under the firm guidance of my friend.
It has to be said that the presentation and sale of lot 11 has provided me with an interesting diversion in my long, impatient wait for lot 16 to be lead out to the auction block.
Normally, I don't empathise with slaves as they are sold; in fact it's quite the opposite with me. I enjoy the spectacle and drama that a slave auction provides and to my mind watching as a slave is sold isn't all that different to watching as cattle are sold in the adjoining livestock market.
But there is an indefinable something about watching as a naked, new slave takes his place on the rostrum and is sold for the very first time. To my mind, total nudity is the mandatory uniform for a slave and when you strip a newly enslaved man of his clothing, you also take away from him all those things that had, until now, defined him as a man.
With the loss of his clothing, he is also stripped of this humanity, his free will and his freedom to think and to act independently of others. He has become a non-thinking, docile and obedient animal subject to the will of a master and subservient to that master's needs.
This is now the case with lot 11 and, the gods willing; it is soon to be the case with lot 16.
These aspects of slavery have always excited me and it is the reason why I so desperately want to purchase lot 16. The thought of breaking and bending him to my will is an especially erotic one for me and now, as he takes his place on the block, my excitement is boundless.
Part 2: Grigor
My turn has come at last. I now stand at the front of the line just inside the gate and I watch as the overseers come for me. I try to remain calm in the face of the ordeal that confronts me as I'm led away to be sold and I desperately want to retain my pride in the face of the unknown indignities that await me.
The throbbing pain in my arse reminds me of my recent caning on the display stand and of how easily I had capitulated. My face burns with the shame of my cowardice.
Strangely, the thought uppermost in my mind isn't that I'm to be sold but rather that I'm now to be parted from my best friend, Axel. We'd been through so much together as soldiers, comrades and friends and I'm overwhelmed with sadness that, after today, we'll most probably never see each other again. Our lives and our futures are no longer ours to determine or control; very shortly we'll be owned properties and subject to the whims of our new masters. My mind seethes with the injustice of this.
I feel the warmth of Axel's hard body pressed up against my back and with only seconds left before I am taken out of the race, I shuffle back against him. If I could turn, I would do so and clasp him in a final embrace but the press of all the bodies behind me makes this impossible. I have to content myself with the feel of his chest against my back and his groin pressed hard up against my buttocks. For a few brief seconds, I get to savour the delicious feel of his erection pulsating against my crack.
As an overseer unbolts the gate, Axel lowers his head and chokingly whispers.
"Good luck, mate".
"You too, Axel." I reply through my tears. I'm overwhelmed with the emotion of our parting.
I stand quietly as an overseer clips his chain leash to my collar and tugs on it indicating I'm to follow him. He is assisted by two other overseers who are armed with thick leather straps. Initially, they had carried canes to control us but had discarded these in favour of the straps after one of the slaves had earlier acted up as he was taken to the auction block. Now they don't hesitate to use them on us.
"Are you going to come quietly, slave or do we have to whip you along?" I'm asked.
"I'll come quietly, sir." I answer docilely. After all, what choice do I have?
As I climb the steps, the indistinct conversation of the buyers grows louder. Waiting in the race for my turn, I had heard the boisterous cheering that greeted each slave's arrival as he climbed up onto the auction block and the lively banter between the buyers and the auctioneer as he was exhibited to them. I am now to experience this for myself.
Reaching the top, I'm temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight and hesitate. I hear the shouted order to "MOVE!" and feel the agonising bite of an overseer's strap on my rump. I cry out with the sudden, unexpected pain and hear loud cheering coming from the buyers' seats.
I wonder - are they cheering at my arrival on the block or because I've tasted the overseer's strap? How can people be so heartless and indifferent to another's suffering?
I am yanked forward by my leash and led over to a raised, wooden block approximately 45 cm higher than the surrounding platform. Responding to the order to "STEP UP!", I awkwardly, try to move up onto the block but the chains around my ankles hinder me. To help me, I receive another slap across my arse from an overseer's strap and my cry of pain is answered with laughter from the watching crowd.
As I stand on the auction block, I lower my head in humiliation and defeat. The wooden block feels smooth under my feet and I notice its surface has been worn into a slight concave by the bare feet of the countless, naked slaves who have preceded me to this spot.
Tears sting my eyes and I begin to shake uncontrollably with the full horror of my situation. As I tremble, the shackles around my wrists and ankles rattle noisily. I wait for what seems an eternity as the auctioneer introduces me to the buyers. His comments are rewarded with a round of appreciative applause.
How can I, who until just a few short weeks ago, was young, free, and excited by life's unfulfilled promises, best describe my feelings? I am no longer free; my nakedness and my `S' brand stamp me as a nameless slave who waits on the pleasure of these men as they clamour to buy me. No longer a man, I am now a chattel, an object to be exhibited and haggled over. I ask - what right do these people have to take away my freedom, rob me of my humanity and turn me into a slave? A slave without an identity other than the brand my new master will shortly place on my body and which will mark me as his property?
Every fibre of my being screams "I'm not a slave" yet I know that I AM and that I don't have any other option but to submit to whoever buys me and to serve him loyally as his slave.
Mercifully, my troubled mind shuts down and I'm only vaguely aware of what is happening to me. I hear the auctioneer talking, but don't fully comprehend what he is saying. I hear the comments, laughter and good-natured banter coming from the buyers' stand but I don't focus it on myself.
Disinterested, I'm aware that the overseers are posing me into positions that display me to best advantage. I feel my foreskin eased back along the shaft of my cock before I'm stroked to a full erection and I aware that I have been turned with my back to the buyers and bent double.
I feel hands pulling my arse-cheeks apart exposing me to the buyers' full scrutiny. I no longer care as I hear the crude laughter and ribald comments that the sight of my arse- hole provokes.
The auctioneer's invitation to the buyers to bid for my body doesn't register with me nor do I fully comprehend the cacophony of raised voices as they eagerly respond. The noisy clamour of the men's voices as they outbid one another for right to own me doesn`t penetrate my indifference.
But then, the loud bang of the auctioneer`s gavel as it strikes the top of his lectern jerks me back to reality and I hear his words.
"SOLD! The slave, lot 16 has been sold to Mr Andrew Trevorrow. May I offer my congratulations to you, Mr Trevorrow? I know how much you wanted this slave. And I might add that he is very good buy."
His pronouncement chills me to the very depth of my being. My fate is sealed. I am now officially a slave - the property of another man.
This announcement is met with a round of quiet applause
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Part 3: Andy
I am elated. I have my replacement for Toby. The slave, Grigor is now mine; although it was a closely run race to get him.
There was considerable interest shown in him by the other buyers and I was forced to go higher for him than I had expected. With each of my bids, there was a counter bid from those other buyers also eager to possess him.
I really can't blame them. The slave's appearance was superb as he stood on the auction block. When he first appeared on the platform the buyers had cheered appreciatively - as they should.
His demeanour wasn't what I expected of him, however and it did disappoint me. I had expected that he might fight like the earlier slave, lot 11, but he didnt. It was as though hed given up and accepted his fate. I had hoped for him to retain some small spark of rebellion for me to train out of him. Still, it is early days and I suspect there may be some spirit left in him for me to play with.
Standing on the block he'd appeared disbelieving and not fully aware of proceedings; although the overseer's two very sharp slaps to his arse - no doubt very painful - did temporarily snap him out of lethargy. But it didn't last. His responses to the auctioneer's instructions and the buyers' requests lacked spontaneity and he had to be assisted by the overseers. In fact, they were the ones who posed his body, stroked his cock to erection and opened his hole to our scrutiny.
I find it interesting to note a slave's re-action to being sold. The old hands - those who are already slaves - are mostly uninhibited and they display their bodies with enthusiasm; no doubt they are hoping to attract a good master. Still others, like the young slave sold at the beginning of the sale, start out shyly, but urged on by the appreciative buyers, they quickly gain confidence and happily pose for us.
I've never worried too much about the state of a slave's mind. After all, a slave's emotions or what he thinks are unimportant. But I did find the differences in attitude to being sold - as exhibited by lot 11 and my new slave - as curious and briefly, I did wonder about them.
Why did one slave stand defiantly on the auction block whilst the other just simply yielded? I suppose like free men, the newly enslaved do have differing mechanisms for dealing with their traumas. But it isn't a thought that I wasted too much time on; as I said a slave's emotional state is inconsequential.
I watch excitedly as my new slave is led away to a holding cage to await my taking delivery of him. I politely acknowledge the congratulations of my fellow buyers; the general consensus from them is that I`d acquired a most desirable property.
With interest, I follow the sale of my second choice, lot 17 as he is displayed and sold to the elderly buyer who had competed with Obadiah Clements for the young slave, lot 2.
There isn't any doubt in my mind as to the uses this slave will be put to. In the event that I'd been unsuccessful in buying lot 16, he'd have made a very good substitute for my new slave. I know both are virgins and either would serve admirably in my bed. However, I'm more than happy with my purchase and I look forward to taking his cherry.
There is still some time to go before my three slaves are sold - I decide there is time enough for me to visit my new slave in the holding pens.
Part 4: Toby
"GENTLEMEN! GENTLEMEN! May I have your attention, please?"
The auctioneer's words hush the noisy chatter of the increasingly vocal crowd and they listen silently as he continues.
"Gentlemen, Matheson's is privileged to put before you, lots 25 and 26. These three slaves are the property of Mr Andrew Trevorrow, who is well-known to many of you and they present the discerning buyer with an opportunity to obtain what is to my mind the pick of today's offering. These three slaves are in superb condition and are for the connoisseurs among you. I expect heavy bidding for them, so gentlemen you'll need to loosen your purse-strings. These slaves won't sell cheaply. I'll give you more detail on the individual lots as they stand before you. But let me just point out that lot 26 is a very rare commodity - a perfectly matched pair of young slaves - which gives you the chance to buy what is unique in today's market."
With these words, I'm introduced to the buyers.
My turn has come at last. As lot 24 is led away to meet his new master, I am manhandled out of the race and up the steps onto the platform.
As I'm taken to the auction block, my feelings are mixed. I have a sense of something akin to excitement at what is happening to me. Being sold - and although I prefer that this didn't happen - is something new; a break in the dull monotony of my slave existence. So, there is that sense of change but whether this is for the better, I'm yet to discover. And naturally, there is my heightened feeling of apprehension about the uncertainty of my future. But I am a slave and I conduct myself as such.
As I'm led to the block, I carry myself with as much dignity as my chains allow. Without conceit, I know I look good and that I have a body that is pleasing to a master's eye. I take a secret pride in my appearance; after all, a slave's appearance is the only thing he possesses, but even that is conditional on his master's treatment of it. I was lucky; my master always took pride and pleasure in keeping me fit and attractive.
Anyway, I walk with my head held high, my body erect, with my chest thrust out and my stomach sucked in. I feel myself sweating in the intense heat beating down on the exposed platform and I suppose the combination of sweat, display oil and bright sunlight highlights my musculature. I'm aware of the appreciative murmuring coming from the buyers' stand.
As I take my place on the auction block, an overseer forces my feet apart and arranges my cock and balls to better display them before raising my head until I look out over the heads of the assembled buyers. The thought flashes through my mind - how do I appear to the crowd? Do they find me pleasing?
I stand placidly as the auctioneer extols the salient features of my body and nature and I listen with interest to what he has to say about me.
"If I could have your attention please gentlemen? You have before you lot 25. He is approximately 28 years old and has been a slave since he was a boy. During all that time he has been Mr Trevorrow's personal slave and constant companion and I'm given to understand he's even-natured and sweet tempered. The only reason that he is offered for sale today is for Mr Trevorrow's desire for `change' - and we can all relate to that, can't we? Mr Trevorrow has already purchased a replacement for him and this slave is now offered for genuine sale. I'm told he is loyal and obedient and has been trained to such a high standard that he'll delight the most demanding of owners should you buy him for the bedroom. Already considerable interest has been shown in him as a possible stud and I'm sure you'll agree that he is very well equipped for such a task. I'm happy to take your questions and should you wish to have his body displayed in a special way, I'm also happy to oblige. So, please gentlemen, let me know your wishes."
The buyers waste little time in accepting the auctioneer's invitation to display me. In response to their requests, I am made to stroke myself to an erection, then twist and pull my nipples until they are swollen and hard. As my cock stiffens and lengthens, the buyers cheer loudly. I try to ignore their crude comments made at my expense and blank out my mind to what is happening to me.
"Auctioneer, could you have him bend at the waist, please? We need to see his arse."
I am ordered to bend, pull my arse-cheeks apart and display my hole.
"I assume he's been well used? How tight is he, auctioneer?"
I flinch as the auctioneer cruelly thrusts his finger into my arse and laughingly replies.
"He's very tight indeed. I don't think you'll have any complaints in that area."
Ordered to stand and face the front, I listen in dismay as a buyer in the front row speaks to the overseer.
"Auctioneer, I'd like to see him stoke his cock again, but a little bit slower this time please?"
To my horror, I recognise him as the repulsively overweight individual who had examined me on the display platform during the morning. He is leaning forward and peering at me most intently. I have no other option but to comply with his request.
As I slowly stroke my penis, I struggle to stop myself from ejaculating. My body tenses, my breathing becomes laboured and without realising it, my hips are thrusting back and forth in time with my hand movements. Oblivious to the buyers, I enjoy the pleasurable sensations sweeping through my body.
Then suddenly, as I'm on the point of my eruption, my hand is pulled away from my cock and an overseer applies his strap to my arse. My yelp of surprise and pain at the unexpectedness of this delights the buyers who laugh at my frustration.
"Are you satisfied, Mr Clements?" The auctioneer asks.
"Very much so, auctioneer. But I do have one last request. Can we have the slave on his knees with his head to the block and his arse up in the air and facing out to us?"
The dimensions of the auction block barely allow me to do this and once I'm in position, I'm ordered to spread my knees as wide as possible. Humiliatingly, I now feel my arse- crack open up and the stress placed on my sphincter causes it to spasm; my balls hang heavy between my thighs.
Looking back to the buyers through my widely spaced legs, I see my pre-cum dribbling from my piss-slit and I feel the auctioneer's cupped hand as he evaluates my balls.
"Gentlemen! As you can see the slave has an excellent pair of knockers and I understand they have already engendered much interest from those wishing to breed him. Now, if you're all through with examining him, then let's move on?"
Once more, I feel the strap as it cuts across my arse-cheeks and I'm ordered to my feet and told to face the buyers. I listen as the auctioneer invites the buyers to bid for me.
"I'm sure you would agree with me that lot 25 is an exceptional slave and one worthy of your interest. He has only ever had one owner and his master has always respected the slave and kept him in prime condition, as you can see. Gentlemen, I now invite you to get out your wallets and bid for this most desirable property, lot 25. I call for your bids. Who`ll start me off?"
I thought I was inured to the degradation of my slavery; in fact, it was something I wasn't aware of. That is, until now. I'd always served my master happily as his slave simply because no other life was open to me. Neither my state of subservience nor my habitual nakedness had ever worried me in the past. They were quite natural and I'd never felt embarrassed or shamed by them. I'd always felt pride in my master's possession of me and strove to make him proud of me.
But I'm unprepared for what is happening to me now. This very public display of the most intimate parts of my body and auctioneer's invitation to bid for me makes me feel ashamed and humiliated. I wonder - do all slaves have these emotions as they are sold?
I can't think of a more dehumanising experience for a slave than to be sold at public auction.
I can't follow the bidding process. It is beyond me to follow either the speed with which the bids are made or to understand the incomprehensible exchanges between the auctioneer and the bidders. Rather than follow the bids, I try to see who it is that is doing the bidding.
I judge by the frenzied shouting that I am a popular lot. Certainly the number of buyers vying with each other to buy me indicates that this is so. However, by a process of elimination, my fate now rests with two bidders.
In my nervous apprehension, I try to see who they are but this is made impossible by the dazzling sunlight which obscures my view of the buyers' stand. I do hear the auctioneer refer to them by their names - Mr Theodore Russell of Redgrove Plantation known to me from my very first pre-sale inspection and a Mr Obadiah Clements.
For the next few minutes, I'm able to follow events as these two vie with each other for the right to own me. They are spurred on by the auctioneer who constantly urges each to out-bid the other until finally there is a lull in the proceedings and I hear the auctioneer say.
"The bid is against you, Mr Russell. Are you finished?"
"YES! I'm done."
I think I detect a note of annoyance in Theodore Russell's answer. Did he really want to own me all that much?
"Then if you're all done, Mr Russell? You're quite sure? Then going ... ONCE ..........TWICE........YOU"RE SURE YOU"RE ALL DONE? .......... SOLD! The slave is sold to Mr Obadiah Clements. Once again you have purchased well, Mr Clements. Congratulations!"
The auctioneer's words are met with a round of applause and I'm left to wonder - who is my new master?
An overseer steps forward and attaches his leash to my collar before I'm led off the platform and taken to the holding pens and placed in a cage with another young slave. Here, with trepidation, we both await our new master's pleasure.
Part 5: The Aftermath of Andy's Decision
I watch as Toby is led onto the platform He is a truly magnificent specimen and briefly I regret my decision to sell him.
The bright sunlight highlights his clean, freshly shaven body under it coating of oil and his skin gleams like burnished copper. He is sweating profusely from the heat of the day which only adds to his eroticism.
He walks proudly erect within his shackles and he holds his closely cropped head high; his piercing blue eyes look calmly ahead towards the auction block. His muscular chest is thrust out and he is obviously taking great pains to keep his stomach taut so that the shape of his powerful torso is accentuated. His semi-hard cock points the way to the waiting block and his balls swing freely within their pendulous sack between his strong thighs. At the sight of his magnificent body - one I know intimately - I feel my own prick spring to life in one, final salute to him.
I am proud of Toby as I watch him walk with dignity towards the block. I feel that pride of ownership that one has in possessing a truly beautiful animal or valuable art object. Sadly, I reflect that, for most of my life, Toby has truly been a part of me and the "giver of much pleasure".
At this moment I bitterly regret my decision to part with him, but then my thoughts turn to my new slave, Grigor and the promise he holds for me and my mood lightens. I listen intently to what the auctioneer has to say about Toby and I'm not altogether surprised at the strength of the bidding for him.
I had genuinely believed he would be bought by one of the stud-owners who had shown so much interest in him prior to the sale. It comes as a complete surprise to me that he is eventually bought by the lecherous Obadiah Clements.
My mind is shocked by the realisation that Toby is now the slave of this odious man and I recall from our earlier conversation the fate that now awaits him. Toby will be forced to service Obadiah as his body servant until such time as he loses his appeal and is replaced with another slave.
What was it that Obadiah had said about changing his body servants almost as often as he changed his bed sheets? "My" Toby would then be condemned to carry Obadiah's grotesque bulk on his shoulders as one of his litter-bearers.
My mind recoils at the thought of this and tears of remorse fill my eyes. How could I have behaved so foolishly and so self-absorbed in my needs to allow this to happen to Toby?
Dejectedly, I remain and watch the sale of my remaining two slaves - the matched pair - to the Middleton sisters; but I am disinterested and their successful sale doesn`t excite me. My mind is too pre-occupied with Toby.
Not wishing to come face-to-face with Obadiah, I quietly leave the buyers' stand and make my way to the holding pens. Here, as I collect my new slave, I pass by Toby`s cage.
Briefly, our eyes meet, but he doesn't acknowledge me; I am no longer his master. But, I see the sadness and the innocent unawareness of what awaits him reflected in his eyes; I wonder does he see the guilt and remorse mirrored in mine?
Devastated, I now realise that I have selfishly sacrificed the warm embrace of a loving and devoted slave for the cold, inanimate figures of the two bronze wrestlers.
Too late, I see that it is Toby who is truly the "Object of MY Desire."
To be concluded............