The Voluptuary

THE VOLUPTUARY

by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)

Part IV

CHAPTER 17

THE PARTY BEGINS

Sucker was gasping for air along with the other galley slaves in his team after the tenth run taking guests up the river to the master's mansion. Being a pure black, he had been chosen to be a galley slave for the party due to his muscular physique, his long, thick organ, and the fact he looked like the master envisioned galley slaves should look. Sucker squirmed on the thick dildo built into the rowing benches he and the other galley slaves had been impaled on. The whip weals from the galley's driver (a well-built white unshaven slave for contrast) were smarting as the heavy sweat rolled down his back and rump, mixing with small amounts of blood elicited by the constant whip. Like all the other black slaves assigned to be galley slaves that night, stenciled in white on his black hide front and back was a big three-digit number (the white drivers were similarly stenciled in black) so the guests could write it down if they wanted to use him later in the evening after all the guests had been delivered and he had been cleaned inside and out. Since the thick dildo made sure he was hard at all times, it was easy for the guests to evaluate what they would be getting if they chose that particular slave - each one was totally naked, body shaved, and fully erect. (But even the drivers were naked and hard so they too could be assessed for later usage.) Sucker wondered how many more runs they would have to make at full speed under the snapping whip and how many guests had written his particular number down on their little pads. If more than a few jotted his number down, it promised to be a long evening.

All the guests enjoyed their speedy, but brief ride in the small galleys David Holgate had had constructed for the party, each propelled by a small team of eight pure black slaves who were all handsome, extremely muscular, and all sporting very large, circumcised, and fully erect phalluses. There were six of these galleys, all exactly alike, speeding back and forth across the river from the parking area to the edge of the grounds of David Holgate's brand new mansion taking the 100 or so invited guests to the party that night.

Once a guest arrived on shore, there were a convoy of litters to take each guest separately to the mansion's entrance. Each litter had four blond bearers, each with long flowing hair and a pencil line beard and mustache, but fully body shaved with that exception. Each of the four bearers were chained to their assigned litter by their prominent nose ring and each had been fitted with a long, thick butt plug so their asses churned with each step they took. Signs at the litter station invited each of the guests to use the bearers before or after alighting the litters in any way they pleased and many guests were doing just that. Since each guest was assigned an individual litter, they could choose any one of the four blond beauties available to them or indeed use all four if they wanted to. And, if none of those four suited them for some reason, they could always choose another litter. Most of the guests couldn't resist the offer and, at the very least, stroked or fondled their bearers' tits, balls, prick, or muscles; at the most, the bearers were fucked in place, nose ring still chained to the litter or on their knees sucking the guest or, in a few cases, especially with the female guests, called upon to fuck the guests (although the latter two activities required his nose ring being temporarily unchained from the litter and replaced with a leash). All of this held up the rapid transference of guests from the dock to the mansion, especially since each guest was assigned to an individual litter, but the Holgate stewards had foreseen this difficulty and had thoughtfully provided plenty of litters so there was no backlog no matter how many blond slaves were sucking guests off, being fucked, standing in position being fondled, or put to fucking themselves. Like the galley slaves, each litter bearer had been stenciled in a large three-digit number front and back so a guest could jot his number down for later use whether or not he was using the slave before or after being conveyed in the litter.

Driver was one of several litter overseers, being chosen for this task due to his contrasting brown skin as well as his skill in handling slaves. He was surprised how many of the guests were using the first piece of slave meat they could get their hands on, the blond litter bearers, and more than half of the bearers currently didn't have a litter on their shoulders - they were on their knees sucking a guest off; on their hands and knees getting fucked, flat on their back getting fucked, or fucking a guest one way or another. This meant the other half of the bearers were in constant use actually toting the guests to the mansion door and were rapidly beginning to show signs of fatigue at the fast pace demanded. Driver solved the fatigue problem by chaining a blond slave to the litter poles the instance a guest was through using him and pulling an exhausted bearer off the poles to be used by the next batch of incoming guests for a little relief. The rotation' system worked well. The tension and strain of hefting the litters was alleviated by the quite different demands of being used sexually - different muscles were utilized, but sweat and heavy breathing were almost constant either way.

Driver mused at how these eager guests didn't seem to understand the delights that awaited them inside the mansion - once they saw that, they would probably wished they had waited. Nevertheless, plenty of guests were writing down numbers whether or not they had used a particular slave - it seemed muscular, well hung blonds appealed to everyone. That he could understand. He too was attracted to blonds for some reason or another, and since belonging to Master Holgate, had finagled his master into using him as a trainer for new blonds, thus getting to use some of them himself from time to time. He wondered if any of the guests recognized Master Holgate's main chauffeur without his tight pants and the fancy Maybach. Somehow, he looked entirely different clothed' than naked and separated from the car as he was presented now. He too had a three-digit number stenciled in white on his brown skin and he wondered how many of the guests had written his number down, perhaps not realizing they would end up fucking Master Holgate's personal chauffeur (or being sucked off by or even, with a few, being fucked by). If so, taking into account he was in charge of making sure all the litter bearers were cleansed inside and out as soon as the last guests had been delivered to the mansion's entrance via the litters and then placed into the system where number requests by the guests could begin to be filled as demanded, it could be a very long evening indeed. He hoped Master Holgate didn't plan too many trips the next day in the Maybach - it would be hard keeping alert - but, then, he thought, Master Holgate would probably be up just as long as he was due to the party. The big difference, however, was his master wouldn't be at the beck and call of his guests as Driver might be. Driver knew from long experience it was a lot more tiring getting fucked and sucking from a long series of masters and mistresses commanding every move on his part than being the one giving the orders for whatever you wanted at the time. That, he understood fully, was the difference between being owned and being the owner.

Inside the house itself, the ten slaves to be given away that night stood in readiness. Each had been given a complete series of enemas, body shaved, and coated with a fresh coat of glistening slave oil. As Master Holgate had specified earlier to his stewards, each were fresh arrivals from his breeding farm, all were of prime marketable age (17-18), all had received full slave training including complete training in sexual use of their bodies, all knew nothing but slavery of course, being bred; and all (2 girls and 8 boys in a variety of colors) wore nothing other than their slave collars and the Holgate brands to give them an unused, innocent look (the "illusion of virginity" as Master Holgate had described it). Each of the 10 knew they were the "prizes" of the evening and would shortly have a new master or mistress - who picked the lucky lottery tickets would determine their life from now on, whether it be a bored middle aged mistress looking for an inexhaustible stud for her bed, a sadistic teenager interested only in seeing how much pain they could endure, a rich farmer looking for a stalwart pony to pull him around his estate, a construction magnate looking for a handsome worker he could also use every night in his bed, a bordello keeper looking for new stock, or a supercilious dandy looking for a striking display slave he could flaunt wherever he went.

Aztec and El Greco had been assigned to waiting table at the banquet that night, each being assigned a particular guest. They were to stand in full display position, just to the rear and the right side of their assigned guest where their sexual organs would be easy to fondle. If their guest desired, they were to slip under the table to suck them off discretely while they ate, bend over to be fucked between courses right in plain view of all the other diners, stand stoically as the guests milked them for a fresh condiment, or masturbate themselves for the same purpose. They knew most guests would at some point during the meal do one or all of these things, but certainly they would be milked before a toast or as an after-dinner cocktail, or even as an interesting steak sauce. After the meal, their assigned guest would have first choice in using their body, but if he or she was bored by now, their body would be available to any of the guests - first come, first served. El Greco had served this function before and warned Aztec it would be a long night. At the last party, El Greco had been milked four times during the leisurely meal, had sucked his owner off twice under the table during the meal, had had endless fingers placed up his ass chute while the guest was eating with the other hand, and had had his prick stroked and his balls fondled with one hand or another throughout the meal. After the meal, he had been chosen for use by 11 different guests before the night was over. By the morning after, he had a bleeding ass, a chaffed prick, swollen and very sore balls, a raspy throat, indigestion from all the cum he had swallowed, and tits so sore he couldn't touch them for days afterwards. El Greco informed Aztec he doubted if this party would be any different for a slave - in fact, since it was celebrating the mansion's opening, it could be much more demanding. When Aztec blanched in fear at the description of the forthcoming demands, El Greco reassured him.

"Aztec, you're young and strong. It WILL be a demanding night, but one both you and I can endure with no real damage after a few days to recover. It's probably no different than a brothel slave has to endure each and every day and we Holgate properties only have parties to serve every few months or so. Me? I dreaded the first one and wondered if it would do me in after talking to the veteran slaves around here. But after it was over and the juice started flowing back in my balls, I realized it really wasn't all that bad and, at least, it was great getting completely drained at long last. I wasn't hard for a good week after that first party to show you how drained I got. Look at us now - always hard and dripping because of our need. Well, after the party, you won't have to put up with that for a while," he laughed. "Besides," El Greco added, "not all the guests are old and ugly. A surprising number of Master Holgate's guests are young and good looking - you won't mind being fucked by them at all. At least, I don't."

"Did any waiters get to fuck any of the mistresses?" Aztec asked hopefully.

"At the last party, yes. As a matter of fact, three of them. But, Aztec, fucking a mistress to her exact specifications and not being allowed to shoot off while you're fucking her is entirely different than fucking some little trollop in your home town before you were enslaved. Back in Greece, I used to fuck some stupid girls caught up with my looks about every day and enjoyed it thoroughly. But fucking a mistress is just work as far as I'm concerned. Most of them control' you through your tit or nose rings and they're always telling you to pump harder or pump deeper or lick them out better or whatever. There's just no spontaneity in it and it's just a chore no matter how much you tell the bitch you're enjoying it and she's the best you ever had and all that crap. But, Aztec, as I recall, you never really had a woman when you were free - that will be to your advantage. That way, you don't have anything else to compare it with and that's just as well. But, if you're good in fucking them, they often let you shoot off when they're totally satisfied and the relief alone is worth all the heaving and bucking. As I told you, Aztec, you're almost as good looking as this Greek boy, so I imagine some mistress is going to bed you down before the evening is over. You're see what I mean after you've served stud to the old bitch."

With that, both slaves began giving themselves the series of enemas, body shaves and oiling, nail and tooth polishing, head hair trims, and other grooming necessary to make them look their very best for the coming evening's events. Finally, they inserted the 8" butt plugs ordered up by Master Holgate, each with a huge ring sticking out of their butt to make removal easy for the guests if and when they wanted to fuck the slave. As their steward had explained, the butt plug was there not only to remind them of their status and keep them hard throughout the evening, but to serve as an invitation to the guests for use of their well trained hole whenever they wanted.

Elsewhere, the food servers were being similarly prepared for the evening. All servers were dark brown Asian blends fitted out with large tit rings, tall showy red collars, flashy ear rings, and clothed' in gleaming white jock straps surrounding their large genital package. They too were being cleansed inside and out, heavily oiled, and shaved smooth below their eyebrows. They were well aware their clothing' would only be temporary - if a guest didn't tear it off while serving when fondling them, they would remove it automatically as soon as all the food courses had been served and offer themselves as a last course' to the dining guests. Hence, they retained their thick genital rings so that they displayed well with or without the white jock straps. Those Asian slaves experienced in serving a Holgate banquet knew this last course' usually meant they were drained dry. Most guests loved having at least one or two loads of hot cum as an aperitif and Asian cum always had a unique, but tasty, flavor. Some guests followed that with actually fucking the server or having the server suck him off, but this was often diverted with the ready availability of the handsome waiters who frequently had drained the guests already. Like the waiters, the servers then were available for anyone's use the remainder of the evening which necessitated many trips to the maintenance center to be flushed out, bathed, or re-lubed and re-oiled as the evening progressed. Despite rumors to the contrary, Asian slaves held up to the heavy sexual demands just as well as other slaves. It was more a matter of training and overall health than ethnicity and race, most astute dealers knew.

Of course, Dallas and Charles, who got so excited when they received their first invitation ever to a Holgate party, were among the 100+ invited guests and could hardly contain themselves when they, along with their "attendant" slave Romulus, stepped onto the Roman barge to be rowed across the river to the Holgate estate's pier. Both the young masters were in their finest party clothes - clothes that fit perfectly and were of the finest quality but also could be easily removed and then put back on dependent on party demands (if any of the rumors about the party were even partially true!). Accompanying them was their brown- skinned slave Romulus, resplendent in a shiny new silver collar that was 3" high to force an erect head at all times, large 2" tit rings, a thick 1" genital ring that made sure his ample manhood was prominently displayed, and a shaved oil-slicked body that simply glowed in the torches of the galley. Romulus' leash, made up of small silver links forming a light chain, ran from Master Dallas' hand to a ring attached to Romulus genital ring - in other words, he was being led around by his balls on this festive occasion.

"If you find your attendant slave more trouble than he's worth, just send him back and we'll put him in the holding pens we've set up on the parking lot for your convenience," the dockmaster said right before they stepped on the barge. "That's why we're marking him with this temporary number on his chest. Here's the check-in tag with his number in case you decide to pen him until you're ready to leave. We're using red ink for the chest numbers so the guests' stock doesn't get mixed up with Holgate stock," he added.

"I told you Romulus might get in the way," Dallas whispered to Charles. "You want to check him in now?"

"Let's at least give him a ride in the barge," Charles replied. "We can always send the boy back from the other side."

" The boy' viewed the holding pens the dockmaster had referred to. They looked like PortaPots with bars for walls instead of solid siding - a stand-up only cage with barely enough room to turn around in and obviously trucked in just for this occasion. The long row of cages were already half full as many guests had already decided their slave attendants, all marked with red numbers on their chests, were supercilious and the eyes of the cage occupants gleaned in the torch lights of the parking lot reminiscence of the holding areas at a nighttime slave auction. Romulus had seen cages like this before, of course. They were commonly used in displaying fresh stock for first sale where untrained goods to be inspected needed to be tightly confined. And they were common where male slaves had primarily been purchased as milk studs - it was easy to hook them up to the milking machines when the studs were restrained in vertical cages where they could barely move.

With a jerk on his leash, Romulus followed his masters onto the barge, resplendent with eight jet-black rowers, each muscular body wet with sweat, each breathing heavily from their last run, and each rock hard as they squirmed chained to their row benches. They stared at Romulus' handsome naked brown body with open lust when the white overseer's attention was diverted by the embarking guests. Romulus stared in return at their backs and rumps, coated with a mixture of blood from the whip and riverlets of sweat from their heated bodies. As one of the galley slaves lifted his body to readjust his position, Romulus quickly saw why all the rowers were fully erect and dripping - their asses were impaled on huge dildos set into the rowing benches themselves. Each stroke of the oar was equivalent to the plunge of a huge prick fucking them. Romulus, fairly naive in all the varieties slaves were available at markets around the world, stared again at the magnificent physiques, the gleaming ebony hide, and the gigantic pricks of the pure black rowers and couldn't help but become aroused himself. The galley slaves were the epitome of masculine flesh and were obviously in heavy need from the stimulation they were receiving. Romulus wondered if he could survive a fucking from any one of them - all were much bigger than anything he had seen in slaves to date. Where on earth did this Master Holgate find such specimens?

When the barge took off with the overseer's whip raining down on the backs of the rowers, Charles and Dallas were practically drooling looked at the erotic display of raw sexuality and wanton masculinity under perfect discipline and were instantly hard and dripping themselves as they stared at the slaves squirming on the benches in their efforts to keep the whip from cutting their backs even more than was occurring (but in the process fucking themselves even harder on the dildos deep within them). Before two minutes of leaving the shore, Dalles had Romulus on his knees sucking him while Charles stroked himself through his tight pants. Both masters were writing down the number of one or another of the galley slaves they intended to use later in the evening.

Before Romulus could drain Master Dalles, they were on the other side and disembarking where the naked blond litter bearers awaited them with the ornate Roman-style litters. Charles saw the sign inviting guests to use the bearers and quickly grabbed a handsome heavily hung blond slave, pushed him to his knees, and had the slave sucking him all the way down his throat. Dallas, still holding Romulus genital leash, started stroking another blond slave's erect prick with one hand while playing with the slave's prominent tits with the hand holding his own slave's leash. Neither Charles nor Dallas stopped their dalliance until Charles dumped a load down one blond's throat while Dallas pumped a load from another blond, caught it in his hand and then slurped it down in that he was a little hungry since it had been some time since lunch.

When finished, Charles and Dalles looked at the accumulation of dazzlingly handsome blond slaves standing around them, looked at the jet black galley slaves screwing themselves on their embedded dildos as yet another load of guests were now arriving, then looked at Romulus, held taut by his genital leash, and both nodded their heads in agreement. Their own slave was simply in the way and would be better off awaiting them in a holding cage upon their return. Keeping the check-in tag, they put him back on the barge for the trip back to the parking lot. The red number on his chest told those in charge he was one of the guest's slaves being returned for storage and he would be caged appropriately.

"Did you read the fine print on the check-in tag, Charles? Dalles asked.

"Yeah, all goods may be used by Holgate properties," Charles laughed. "If the cage master takes a fancy to him, Romulus will have his own little party."

As soon as all the guests had been rowed across, the cage master did take a fancy to Romulus and fucked him thoroughly right out in public in front of his cage. Fortunately, Romulus had lubed himself thoroughly for the party since the cagemaster, a huge Russian slave, was formidable when it came to his sexual organs. Upon being stuffed back into his standing cage, Romulus tried to use his hands to keep the river's chill off of him, unable to curl up to keep himself warm in the cramped confines. None of the checked in slaves had any clothes on them and all were chilled to the bone by the time they masters or mistresses picked them up at the end of the party sometime in the early morning. By that time, almost all of them had been fucked at least once in that the black rowers whose numbers were not called up were given some relief from their long siege of sexual arousal by being given one of the checked slaves to fuck or have suck them off. Romulus not only was fucked by the cagemaster, but, considerably later, was fucked by two of the black galley slaves and had to suck two more off. At least, when he was being fucked by the black slaves, he got heated up from their animal heat although their huge size stretched his ass and throat to where he thought he was being torn open and he sobbed for a short while from the terrible pain of accommodating them. He could only guess the guests had forgotten all about the beautiful black galley slaves after they saw what was available inside the mansion.

Charles and Dallas, having finished their dalliance with the inviting blond litter slaves, each got aboard a litter, were hefted onto the slave's shoulders, and soon found themselves at the mansion's main entrance. Neither of them had ever been carried on a litter before and found the experience exhilarating - there was a real thrill being borne aloft on the shoulders of four beautifully muscled human animals, each team matched for physique and hair color. When they arrived, a few guests were busily enjoying one or several of their litter bearers right near the front entrance and it was strange seeing the front of the mansion dotted with blond slaves either on their knees sucking, on their backs with their legs splayed getting fucked, or on their hands and knees taking a guest's dick up their hole.

But both Charles and Dallas had wasted enough time playing around with the handsome blonds and wasted no time marching up to the front entrance display: the usual Holgate trio of three beautiful matched mulatto slaves purchased in Chicago linked together by chains connecting their thick penile rings welcoming the guests on behalf of their master and proclaiming their availability after the last guests had arrived.

"You ever think of fitting Romulus with a penile ring right through his nice smooth glans?" Dallas asked his partner. "It sure gives a slave a certain controlled look," he said admiringly as he tugged on the chains connecting the three slaves' pricks.

"I've thought of it, Dallas," Charles replied. "But it would be just like Romulus to get it caught up in something like a drawer pull or a door knob and tear his pretty phallus - that attractive trimmed prick of his is one of the big reasons we bought him."

"You're probably right, Charles," Dallas laughed. "Romulus is one sexy slave, but he's clumsy as an ox. He'd be the very one to get his manhood caught up in the Mix-Master or something."

Both men, arriving about three-quarters through in the guest roll, entered the mansion just in time for Master Holgate's arrival from another entrance in a chariot pulled by eight prancing matched black-haired green-eyed white slaves: all about 5'10", all shaved below their necks, all with a pencil line beard and connecting mustache, and all tit ringed, genitally banded with a penile ring, and all tall-collared, but no ear or nose rings. They were harnessed in red leather, fitted with mouth bits - the reins attached to their tit rings. All were butt plugged so their asses churned as they pulled the flashy gold covered chariot. The team of eight hitched to the chariot were all coated in heavy oil so they practically glowed in the strong spotlights of the grand hall.

"Jesus," Charles exclaimed. "Talk about an entrance!"

But neither he nor Dallas were quite prepared for the display that evolved from the prancing pony slaves pulling their master in a gold chariot. Soon, the team had reached the center of the hall where there was a huge throne, resting on the broad muscle-bound backs of 16 prone black slaves arranged in a circle around the perimeter of the throne. Each naked black had been selected for his musculature and the extreme size of his erect penis. Once Master Holgate had left his chariot and sat down in the throne, the 16 blacks lifted the throne atop their shoulders in an incredibly even fashion carefully choreographed and then stood with their legs spread wide in full display position in a perfect circle surrounding the throne, every muscle in their shoulders, torso, and legs reflecting the strain of supporting the heavy throne and its occupant. The audience was awed into total silence initially, but then broke into spontaneous applause.

"Feel free to fondle the slave's bodies that are supporting me, including milking them if you want. I made sure their balls are stuffed full to start with - they haven't been allowed to discharge in over a month and would be most grateful for any relief you guests may choose to employ," Master Holgate announced with a gracious smile.

"And just as soon as the white ponies are unhitched and have their bits removed, you'll see then crawl beneath my ascended throne where they will fuck each other beneath my throne for your amusement. The white ponies will fuck each other in a continuous chain for the full 45 minutes I am being held aloft, but they will be exercising heavy body control during that time. After that, along with my black throne supporters, they will offer themselves to any of my guests for the remainder of the evening. That will give my guests 24 prime animals at their complete disposal as a little variety to the other offerings of the evening. So study them carefully for a possible choice - they all know they will be punished if they don't attract some sort of usage by a minimum of ten guests each. But in the interim, you can always fondle and milk the black slaves if you like."

Dallas and Charles stared in disbelief as the white ponies did indeed crawl under the throne and proceed to start fucking each other in a huge daisy chain of continuous motion. And, with the open invitation, more than a few guests started churning the balls, stroking the penises, and playing with the tits of the huge black slaves straining from their load. Soon, more than a few of the black slaves, kept from shooting off for over a month, starting shooting off into paper cups being dispensed by a small team of attending slaves, while the guests started sipping the frothy "appetizer." Much to Charles' and Dallas' amazement, none of the black slaves moved one iota as their tits were squeezed, their balls churned, and their pricks pumped. Even when they discharged a full load of their thick cream into the cups provided did their bodies move at all other than a slight muffled gasp and some body tremors shooting up and down their torsos. Within their circle, the white slaves were moaning as a big prick was being rammed in and out of their asses and they heaved pumping their own organ all the way in and out of the slave's ass in front of them. Soon, their bodies were coated in sweat and the smell of sex perfumed the air surrounding the throne above them. The sex smell served as an aphrodisiac for the guests in attendance and soon nary a black slave supporting their master on their straining shoulders didn't have hands all over his body and was busily producing yet another load for a paper cup of some guest.

Charles and Dallas found a black slave who had only been milked once so far and, getting a paper cup, proceeded to extract a full cup out of the quivering slave. The cream was indeed tasty and both men found it a refreshing appetizer - it was obvious the meal would be served before too long if this was labeled an appetizer.

Within the 45 minutes of the throne display, the last guests had arrived, the throne descended to ground level, and David Holgate invited all the guests to use any of the white slaves that turned them on or one of the black slaves now that they were freed of their load and could be easily fucked.

Instantly, almost all of the black slaves found themselves flat on their backs with their legs lifted high and a hard prick pounding into their hole. Likewise, the white slaves were either on their knees sucking a guest or on their hands and knees being fucked just like before, but this time by one of their master's guests rather than just another Holgate property. Soon both black and white slaves had cum running down their legs or dribbling out of their mouths and witnessed lines of guests queued up behind them awaiting their usage. Fortunately, they reflected, they had been forewarned of this possibility and had lubed themselves accordingly. They smiled inwardly as they thought there would be no problem fulfilling their owner's injunction to have 10 guests use them or face severe punishment. Already, most of them had serviced six or seven guests and it was just the beginning of the evening - why, they hadn't even had a chance to hit the slave maintenance center yet and get their body freshened. At this rate, they could all expect to meet their quota (and beyond) with no difficulty.

Within a half-hour, a huge gong sounded with an announcement by Master Holgate that dinner would be served in ten minutes, giving everyone a chance to finish up with any slave they were using and get a chance to wash up a bit if the evening had proven to be entertaining so far. Most of the guests shot off in whatever hole they were in, had the slave servicing them clean their prick and balls with their mouth and tongue, and then freshened up in one of the numerous rest rooms off the grand hall, reassembling their clothes and combing their hair in the process.

Charles and Dallas, like many of the others who had experienced considerable sex with the slaves, went to the nearest restroom, washed their face off, combed their hair, and, taking the washcloth, carefully wiped off their sexual organs despite the fact they had been rather thoroughly cleaned by the mouth of the last slave they had used, in both of their cases one of the handsome green-eyed white slaves.

Another gong sounded with Master Holgate announcing the meal would be served in the Grand Dining Hall.

Charles and Dallas were seated next to each other at a huge long table lavishly set for 100 guests, each with a naked waiter to the right of each chair. Charles was seated next to a guest named Claude DuPree on his left while Dallas was seated next to a guest on his right who had one of his own slaves kneeling at his feet between the two of them.

"I hope my slave isn't in your way, my friend," Dallas' neighbor announced. "If so, just nudge him with your foot and, if you like the looks of him, feel free to use him at any time - he sucks beautifully and doesn't make a lot of noise about it either. Perfect for discrete use at a dinner like this."

Dallas looked down at the kneeling slave, no older than 18, and saw the boy was attractive: a nice muscular physique, an almost pretty face, and prominent well-shaped sexual organs propped out in front of him by a large genital ring tightly fitted. Perhaps he would be interesting to use at some point during the dinner if his own personal waiter, a handsome white slave named Service, was disappointing.

Service looked to be in his mid 20s, was quite appealing, and looked experienced in offering his body up for other's use if not in serving as a waiter. Service looked at the slave on the floor disparagingly and let Master Dallas know by a sophisticated look he would be the better choice in bringing sensual pleasure over any teenage slave merely belonging to the neighboring guest. "I'm a Holgate property, Master, " Service said softly to his assigned guest as if that alone established his superiority over the trash on the floor.

Charles introduced himself to Claude DuPree who said he was a close personal friend of David Holgate and indeed, sold premium slaves to him from time to time. Charles' personal waiter was an strikingly handsome slave named Pleasure, who looked to be in the early 20s and was already letting his assigned guest know his body was there for that guest's use any way he wanted it and whenever he wanted it. Pleasure had a certain urgency to him that was due to his Mafia training, but Charles, of course, knew nothing of that at this point. He liked what he saw and appreciated the waiter's eagerness to serve.

Claude DuPree wasted no time in utilizing his waiter, a handsome slave labeled The German.' "I've used this boy of David's before," he announced as he grabbed the blond slave and began rapidly stroking his shaft, "and found his juice particularly tangy. Are your balls nice and full, German?" he asked the slave who had thrust his pelvis outward for his user's convenience in stroking him.

"Yes, Master," the German slave answered with some urgency. "These balls are packed full for Master's use," the slave added with a big smile on his face. "Master Holgate hasn't let any of us assigned as waiters to shoot off for over two weeks now, Master."

It didn't take long before the German slave filled the cocktail glass Master DuPree had in his other hand with long, thick strands of steaming hot cum. Claude DuPree dipped his finger in it and then lifted it to his mouth, savoring the taste and texture.

"Delicious! Want a taste?" Claude DuPree asked Charles, offering him the cocktail glass.

"Why not?" Charles responded as he took a fair sized sip from the glass, ran it around in his mouth a bit, and then swallowed.

"That IS good," Charles announced in appreciation as he took another larger sip.

"Hey, don't pig it ALL down," Claude DuPree laughed, "or I'll have to milk another load out of the German's balls."

"No need. I'll coach a load out of Pleasure here. Maybe he's just as good, if not better," Charles chuckled. With that, Charles grabbed Pleasure's dick, already hard and most prominent due to the waiter's thick genital ring, and began pumping the large organ. This slave too had obviously been denied any outlet for some time in that he almost instantly began dripping and within a minute was spilling out a full load into Charles' own crystal cocktail glass. Pleasure's cum was frothy and ivory white, even thicker than the German's.

Charles took a sample slurp and found the taste interesting - sort of like buttered almonds.

"Here, Mr. Dupree, try it. It's really somewhat different, but I must say delicious," Charles handed the glass to his neighbor.

"Call me Claude," the man sitting next to him said as he took the proffered glass and took a nice swig. "You're right, Charles. It is different, but, as you say, really yummy." With that, Claude took a couple of larger swallows, leaving just a little in the cup.

"Hey, Claude, you've practically drunk the whole load," Charles exclaimed. "You must like it!"

"Milk out another load, Charles. That boy's too good to waste," Claude instructed.

Charles did just that and was surprised how quickly Pleasure produced another load, almost as productive as the first milking and spurting out surprisingly fast considering he had just been milked minutes before. Claude did the same with his German waiter, which took a little longer and this time produced only half a glass.

"This time, I'm keeping my glass to myself, Claude," Charles laughed as he drank the entire glass down in one huge gulp, smacking his lips afterwards in satisfaction.

"Me too, Charles," Claude chuckled as he swallowed the entire contents of his refilled glass, swirled it around in his mouth a bit and then swallowed. "German slaves are always tangy," he announced.

Both the waiters had broke out in a full body sweat from their draining and both their pricks were, for once, flaccid. But they maintained their wide-spread stance with their pelvises thrust forward for easy handling.

Dallas' neighbor on the other side had sucked his waiter off directly, not fiddling with any cocktail glass and then began playing with the tits on his attendant slave still kneeling beneath him. Dallas thought he should at least have a cocktail of some type, in view of all his neighbors, and milked Service off into his glass. Service's output was quick and voluminous. And, as Dallas quickly discovered, delicious with a nice fresh taste that was slightly salty. It made for a nice pre-dinner cocktail and the slave milked was most grateful to gain some relief at last.

"Did you see those black slaves holding up David's throne?" Claude DuPree asked Charles. "One of them I recently sold to him, but I didn't quite know at the time exactly what David had in mind using him for. He just told me he needed a very big, muscular stud that was jet black and Sucker' fit the bill. I thought I was selling him for his mouth, not his muscles, but you know David - you just never know what he wants a slave for. Of course, Sucker' is still doing what he does best, I bet - sucking dick. That throne thing was just for tonight, probably Did you get to use any of the black slaves holding up that throne, Charles?"

"Sort of," Charles explained. "I sucked one of those black's big tits while they were holding up the throne. I was more interested in whether I could get them to move with my titillation than really using them properly. No matter how much I sucked and tongued his big tits, I couldn't get more than a good shiver out of that black slave he was so well trained. And afterwards, I got busy fucking one of those white slaves that had served as ponies. The pony I fucked was really good - a nice tight ass that he knew how to use for a master's pleasure. Kind of amazing considering he had been fucked for a 45 minutes before by the pony in back of him."

"Chances are you were sucking Sucker's tits. Were they about as big as a woman's tits?"

"Well, yes, come to think of it, that's exactly what they were like. The tits of a woman on a man's chest. You say that was this Sucker slave you sold to Mr. Holgate?"

"Probably. A big dude with lots of muscle, great big juicy tits, a huge package on him, and the self-control of a well-trained bull. But mainly, a mouth that was heaven itself when it came to sucking a master," Mr. DuPree answered rather dreamily. "Sort of wish I'd never sold him when I think of that black slave's velvety throat."

"Sounds like I really missed out just sucking his tits," Charles said. "It would have been fun to see if he sucked as well as you say. If I had waited and used him after they had put that damn throne down, I could have had him do just that."

"Oh, look, they're bringing in the food," the master sitting next to Dallas' announced. By the way, my name's Jeremy. And your name?"

"Dallas," was the quick answer. "Your slave got a name, in case I decide to use him after all?"

"Fetch, and, I repeat, use him anytime you want. That's what he's here for," Jeremy replied.

"Looks like all the servers are Asian," Dallas commented to no one in particular.

"Except that one that's golden with blue eyes - he looks Mexican to me," Charles added to the conversation.

"He is," Claude replied. "I sold him to David just a few weeks ago. He's from a small town in Mexico originally, in slavery less than a year, and, if you get a chance, grab him to fuck. He gives about the best fuck I've ever seen out of a slave, especially one as young as he is. That's why David bought him from me - his talent in offering up a damn memorable fuck."

Dallas and Charles stared at the slave under discussion. His smooth golden skin literally glowed with all the oil on him, and his huge basket was well outlined in the white jock strap straining to hold its contents. His body was truly appealing even clothed as he was with the white jock strap.

As the server passed them with a huge tray of appetizers, Claude reached out and literally tore the jock strap off the Mexican slave, exposing his huge genitals for all to see.

"He's well equipped, but his real talent is offering up his ass," Claude said as he hefted the Mexican's balls up in his hand for all to see.

The Mexican slave struggled to keep the tray from spilling but stood quietly while his body was being fondled as he steadied the tray in his hands. The waiters around him all served assorted appetizers from the tray onto their assigned guests' plates as the Mexican balls were being churned and his shaft stroked to a full erection.

Other servers, all Asian blends in gleaming white jock straps (at least those who hadn't had them torn off yet) followed with vegetables, fruits, meats, and fish as the naked waiters made sure the guests had at least a sample of each on their plates. Soon the room was quiet as the guests were enjoying the delicious food and playing with the waiters' bodies. After the dessert was served, a lemon sponge cake soaked in hot cum sauce direct from the kitchens (did David Holgate have a whole squadron of milk slaves in the kitchen just for this purpose?), the servers who still had their jock straps intact cast them off into a big container at one side of the room and then circulated around among the guests, openly advertising their availability for whatever the guests might want. Before long, the entire room was seething with Asian bodies being fucked or on their knees sucking, waiters flat on their backs being fucked, or waiters on their knees sucking one guest or another. Some waiters were put to fucking the Asian servers for added entertainment and a few waiters were put to each other under the explicit directions of their assigned guests, who were commanding each move they made as if they were actors in some sort of wild porno movie. Before 15 minutes, the floor was sticky with spent cum and dripping juices, the air reeked of sex sweat, and the room was filled with groans, moans, and sighs from both the slaves and the guests. No Roman orgy could have been more complex than the writhing bodies in that room and no guest could possibly say he wasn't offered every known sexual activity ever invented by the enthusiastic Holgate slaves who seemed to have no inhibitions, no restrictions on their use, no preferences other than pleasing each and every guest present.

Masters that preferred female slaves had plenty available as they too drifted into the room following dessert. And the mistresses present who wanted more studs then their waiters and the servers weren't disappointed either. Both the black throne bearers and the white pony slaves now joined the other slaves in the dining hall, all freshly scrubbed and relubed for use by those guests who hadn't explored their bodies yet. The mistresses took especial advantage of this new supply and many of the black and white slaves were now plowing others rather than being plowed.

"This is even better than the last party," Jeremy exclaimed as he was plunging into the ass of a particularly handsome Asian server, no more than 18 or so.

"I agree," Claude DuPree said, "and I've been to most of them, I think." Claude had Jeremy's slave Fretch sucking him off at the time, but had just finished fucking one of the Asian servers himself, a huge handsome Chinese man in his late 20s who sported one of the largest pricks Claude had ever seen (and he had seen a lot of big slave pricks over the years).

Charles and Dallas were completely drained, but nevertheless each had Oriental serving slaves (one from Thailand; the other from Burma) sucking them while they played idly with the two boys' tits.

When all the guests were completely satiated and the only activity was slaves fucking each other under the direction of one guest or another, Master Holgate stood up and announced it was time for him to distribute a few presents to 10 lucky recipients - all fresh, young slaves bred at his own breeding farm, and, outside their extensive sexual training, relatively unused up to this point.

"Eight males and two females, ripe for breeding," he announced as the ten carefully selected slaves (all products of Holgate's own premium breeding studs and broods) marched in - all stark nude outside of their neck collars and Holgate brands, the males showing hard. Each of the ten giveaways promptly climbed up on individual pedestals where attendants chained them for guests' inspection prior to the distribution where they displayed their bodies in full presentation mode (hands in back of their slave collar, the males' pelvises thrust forward with their pricks fully erect, the females' breasts thrust forward with their nipples fully erect, and both sexes with their legs spread wide to best display their genitals.

The 100 guests all then left their chairs and took their time inspecting the goods to be given away as prizes while the other slaves in the room seized the chance to take a breather.

David Holgate then announced the winners would be chosen randomly by the house computer. All the gift slaves, now excited and flushed from all the guests' handling were again freshly oiled on their hairless bodies and were in a visible state of sexual arousal.

"As I give each slave away, I will suggest the recipient try his new prize out immediately to see if he wants to keep the gift or try to exchange his gift with another recipient. To make sure my guests understand what I mean by trying a slave out' I have several pairs of fresh slaves there on the stand fucking and sucking each other positioned so every guests can see them easily - sort of a way to break the ice for those guests who might be a little inhibited and old fashioned when to comes to performing sex in front of others. Modesty is alright for sex between free people, but with slaves it seems ridiculous. After all, it's not like screwing your wife - a slave is just an animal, after all, and this is a party designed for people to enjoy themselves," Mr. Holgate explained as he pointed to the pairs of performing slaves just brought in and already in the action he was referring to. Each pair performing was a study of matching color - one pair were both black; another pair were both brown; another pair were both Asians; and four pair were both pure whites. All four pairs went to performing public sex vigorously up on the stands where all could see them and each pair looked delighted to be there, part of their intensive training no doubt. Each pair moved about as they were engaging in sex so that the guests could see their gyrating bodies from all angles.

Mr. Holgate pushed a button on the computer keyboard and a guest's name flashed up on the big screen.

"Claude DuPree, you old scoundrel," David Holgate laughed. "I just bought some slaves from you and here you are taking one of my slaves with you back. Probably, if I don't watch it, to sell him back to me again." A slave's number appeared on the screen and a handsome black slave stepped off the podium with a big smile on his face as he headed for his new master, Master DuPree.

Claude DuPree smiled and had the black on his knees sucking him as he thanked his host and long time friend. "If he sucks me off well, I'll start grooming him for sale back to you, David. He's already got your brand on him," Claude laughed as he slid his organ all the way down the black's throat and felt the slave's throat muscles tightened around the intrusion. He rubbed his fingers over the slave's brand as if to signify to the kneeling boy he now owned him.

David Holgate again pushed the computer button and one of the females was given away to a person named Juan who apparently had won a slave at the last party.

"Two in a row, Juan," David joked. "Next time you have a party, I expect to win at least some little runt."

The sixth slave given away went to Dallas' neighbor at the banquet, Jeremy, who was beside himself with his good luck. The prize slave in this case was the other female who David Holgate announced could easily be bred by the very slave Jeremy had brought with him as an attendant.

"The way your own slave is hung, he should get her knocked up quick," David laughed, "and in 15 years or so, you ought to have a nice looking slave to market yourself."

"I think I'll start on breeding her right now," Jeremy shot back excitedly. With that, he drug Fetch out from under the table by his leash and had him fuck the fresh young female slave right in front of everyone. Fetch was astonished by this turn of events, not having been allowed to fuck a female in years, but remembered what to do and soon was obviously enjoying it, much to the delight of the spectators all around him. The female slave never expected to be bred in public like this, but made the most of it and soon found herself caught up in Fetch's considerable skill in bringing her to a very satisfying orgasm. By the time she felt another orgasm coming on, she had forgotten all about the fact people were all around her watching and was thrusting her hips up onto the pounding shaft to impale herself as deeply as possible. When Fetch spilled deep within her, she knew somehow she was on her road to producing a new slave pup - the first of many, many pregnancies over the years. That much she had learned at the breeding farm where she had been produced just like this, except in the farm's crude rutting shed instead of this plush palace.

The tenth and last slave to be given away was a young blond boy with blue eyes, massive pecs, and huge sexual organs.

"Pure Viking stock, bred out of a huge German brood and an even bigger Danish stud," Mr. Holgate announced. "Completely trained for full sexual service, master, mistress, or both," he continued with a twinkle in his eye. "This one I couldn't resist fucking myself and, although a real handful, it's worth it," he chuckled. He pushed the computer key down and Dallas' name shot up on the screen.

"Dallas, your first Holgate party and you're a prizewinner. Congratulations. You and Charles can have fun with this one, I wager."

The blond slave tried to hide his disappointment he wasn't being awarded to a mistress or a master interested in breeding him. The mention of his new master's partner told him he was the one going to be fucked instead of the other way around with this new owner. But slaves didn't determine who or who didn't buy them or what use they would be put to. He nodded in acceptance of his fate and headed with a smile on his face to his new owner, Master Dallas (and apparently a Master Charles as well!).

When he arrived, Dallas, joyous, nodded to Charles and motioned for the new prize to get on his hands and knees. Dallas gleefully slid his newly erect shaft up the blond's asshole while his partner Charles slid his own now erect pole down the blond slave's throat. Within a few minutes, the Viking was being filled from both ends and the audience around them clapped in appreciation of the little show. Somehow, the blond prize knew this was a mere forerunner of his future life with this pair of masters. His goal for the immediate future was to make sure they were totally satisfied with him; his secondary goal was to figure out a way to empty his own balls occasionally when he got a chance.

THE VOLUPTUARY

By Bill Smith

CHAPTER 18

THE PARTY'S OVER

The guests had all departed the Holgate party with the exception of Claude DuPree who stayed in one of the mansion's guest apartments overnight. He and his friend David had breakfast when they finally got up, about 2 P.M. Claude had taken his gift slave to his bed that night and found the black totally satisfactory in fucking him when he awoke the next day. Like all Holgate slaves, he was extremely well trained, handsome to a fault, and extraordinarily equipped. He took a fuck as well as he sucked, Claude noted with satisfaction, and should be easy to sell when he tired of him. It was a nice gift and he again thanked David for the slave.

"Pure chance you got him, Claude," David brushed off the thanks. "It wasn't rigged, you know - the computer really did decide the winners randomly. Just don't try to sell that particular one back to me, you rascal - other slaves you're bored with, but not that one. Sell him off to some lonely widow too old to get knocked up and you'll get a price for him you won't believe. Old white widows have a thing for virile black studs, you know," he laughed.

The two old friends reviewed the highlights of the party, decided it was indeed the best party David had yet thrown, and was a fitting event to introduce the new mansion to the public at large. Claude thought the Roman theme was particularly inspired, but acknowledged that with 650 slaves involved one way or another, most any theme would have been successful.

"Over six slaves for every guest," Claude marveled. "Not too many in town can pull that off, David."

"Well, it's good to show off occasionally, Claude."

"Occasionally! Every time you have Driver pull out that Maybach for a ride around town you're showing off more than anybody I know," Claude retorted.

"Well, you don't know too many people," David laughed. "Just those you think you can palm a few slaves off to now and then. Me - I'm social; you - you're just a businessman."

The breakfast was served by two slaves well trained for the demands of the Holgate household. Both were handsome and nude, fitted out with large genital rings, heavy tit rings, and thick collars that forced their heads upright at all times. Both were muscular, heavy hung, and "easy on the eye" as David put it. But both looked to be in their 30s, well pass prime age and it was obvious David held on to them out of familiarity, if nothing else. The two slaves served fresh-squeezed orange juice, freshly baked cinnamon rolls dripping with cum sauce (courtesy of the kitchen staff), bacon and eggs (topped with the two waiters' own freshly produced cum right at the table), and a side dish of cheese grits, thanks to David's southern heritage. Although David liked fresh cum with his grits usually, this morning it had been omitted due to the heavy use of cum in the cinnamon rolls.

"You've had these same two waiters ever since I've known you, David. I'm surprised they can still produce a full load when needed," Claude commented as the two slaves pumped themselves to quickly top the scrambled eggs.

"They put out just as much as when I first bought them - and just as thick and creamy, too," David said. "Besides, they know exactly what to do anymore - I don't have to tell them a thing."

"When's the next party?" Claude asked.

"Not for a while. I need to rest up and dream up some new things my slaves can do to amuse my guests. Just anyone can throw a party where you just sit around and fuck slaves. It takes some imagination to stage an event people talk about for months."

"Well, believe me, David, your guests will be yakking up this one for months if not years. Last night's party is the stuff of legends - eight pure black slaves rowing you across a river in a Roman galley imbedded on thick dildos in their asses; litters borne by teams of four blond slaves each with a big plug in their butt; the throne held aloft by sixteen blacks; eight prancing white ponies; giving away ten prime bred slaves; a slave waiter for each guest at a sit- down dinner for over 100; separate food servers, all yellow-skinned in white jock straps. I'm surprised they don't make a TV special or something out of your parties. Have you thought of it? Advertisers would pay plenty to sponsor it. The real stroke of genius was insisting each recipient of a prize slave use them right on the spot in front of all the other guests - that really livened the party to a fever pitch."

When the two had finished breakfast and reminisced once again on party highlights, David had Driver take Claude home in the Maybach.

"Time you sat your ass on some tanned slave hide, Claude," David chuckled. "There's no upholstery quite as nice."

"My slaves say gruesome," Claude laughed. "But it does tell slaves a thing or two about who's in control, doesn't it?"

"That's as important as how soft the hide really is," David admitted. "If you want to use Driver before or after the ride, feel free," David invited where Driver could hear him..

"Thanks, but I'm not up to it after last night and the fucking I gave your gift slave right before breakfast."

Claude left with that admission and Driver took him straight back to his own home in the luxurious limousine with the black gift tucked away in the trunk. As Claude took in Driver's magnificence, he was tempted to take up David's invitation for use of his property, and, as soon as he was home and had the black gift chained to the rings handily embedded in his bedroom wall bedroom with Driver's help, he indicated he wanted Driver on his back for a good fucking. Driver smiled and, once on his back in the comfortable bed of Master DuPree, lifted his legs up in invitation. Driver didn't get back to the Holgate mansion until a good hour later than he had planned.

Charles and Dallas took their gift slave with them as they returned via the litters and barge to the parking lot where Romulus was awaiting them in his cramped cage, shivering from the cold and with loads of cum running down his legs and down his chin from the fucking he had received throughout the long night, mainly from the galley and litter slaves not called up for sexual use by the Holgate guests. Romulus was happy to see his masters, but puzzled by the new blond slave they had on a collar leash following them. He dared not ask his masters where the muscular new slave had come from.

"Put this slave in the trunk, Romulus, before you drive us home. Dallas won him at the party," Charles announced.

"And wipe all that cum off of you before you dirty up the car's upholstery," Dallas said. "There's a towel in the trunk just for that purpose if you remember, Romulus."

"Yes, master," Romulus said with some relief. He was worried the new slave had been purchased to replace him. That was unlikely if the slave was just a party favor.

As Romulus led the blue-eyed blond slave to the car's trunk by his leash, he couldn't help take in the new slave's huge equipment, his handsome build, and his fresh Scandinavian look. He grew hard just looking at the slave as the new prize dutifully climbed into the trunk.

"We haven't had him but a few hours and already you're hard and dripping wanting to fuck him," Dallas laughed, pointing to Romulus' swollen prick. "That meat's for us, boy, and don't you forget it."

"Yes, master," Romulus said as he hastened to wipe himself off and then quickly opened both rear doors for the two masters before heading for the driver's seat. "He's your property just like me," Romulus added in confirmation of his master's warning.

"Did you like the party, Romulus?" Charles asked his slave. "Looks like you got fucked plenty."

"Yes, master," Romulus responded. "Fucked plenty by both the black galley slaves and the white litter bearers."

"What were they doing down on the dock?" Dallas asked. "I thought the guests would be using them."

"Some of them were called up, master, for the guests to use them, but some of them weren't, master. The dockmaster let the unchosen ones use the guests' properties that had been caged for the evening. That is, before they had to go back to work again bringing all the guests back just like they came."

"I thought they looked a little worn out," Charles laughed. "I didn't realize the likes of you had sapped their energy."

"Yes, master," Romulus said, not quite sure why he was being blamed for sapping the Holgate slaves' energy.

With that, Charles, Dallas, their new Viking slave, and Romulus all returned to their home base and life resumed as usual, albeit with a handsome new body to service the two masters. The two talked about the party for weeks afterwards, spoke nothing but superlatives about Mr. David Hickam Holgate III, and worked on getting an invitation to the next Holgate party as they enjoyed over and over the body of the handsome new blond gift slave.

Romulus was a hit in the slave quarters as he retold over and over the story about the black galley slaves imbedded on huge dildos built into the rowing benches and the white litter bearers and the ornate litters they bore on their shoulders when not servicing the guests. He even told about the unused bearers and galley slaves fucking him right outside his tiny holding pen in the parking lot. He saw no embarrassment in being used by other slaves - after all, that was a common enough occurrence for any slave he knew (or any slave he was talking to).

So, everyone - guests, gifts, slaves - all agreed. It was a party to remember!

THE VOLUPTUARY

by Bill Smith

Chapter 19

AN AFTER-PARTY FAVOR

One of Romulus' chores as a house slave of Masters Dallas and Charles was to answer all incoming calls if he wasn't busy servicing his masters in which case a back-up slave got the privilege.

"The residence of Dallas Upland and Charles Gibraldo, how may Slave Romulus help you?" the young black slave said smoothly, having answered his masters' phone now thousands of times.

"Remember me, you black bastard?" the Holgate dockmaster laughed. "The last time we met, I fucked the shit out of you when you were caged down at the dock at the Holgate mansion awaiting your masters return from the party. Of course, I got to you first, before some of the galley slaves and litter bearers not called up for action got to dump into you for a little relief. Both of those groups of slaves are so damn big I bet your ass and throat are still aching from being stretched from those big boys."

"Yes, bossman," Romulus remembered the appropriate term for any slave placed in a supervisory position over other slaves, "but I'm well trained to handle even the biggest cocks," he boasted. "Although, bossman," he chuckled to the Holgate slave, "a couple of times I was sure a prick was ending up in my stomach."

"All the slaves I'm in charge of are picked for their looks, their musculature, and especially their humongous dicks. Master Holgate's agents search the world over for those beautiful black galley slaves and the handsome white litter slaves that got to fuck you on the night of the Master's last big party. You're a lucky slaveboy, Romulus. I know some masters and mistresses that would pay plenty to be studded by exceptional slaveboys like that."

"Yes, bossman," Romulus replied, "It was an experience I won't forget for a while," he added, sagaciously leaving out he was given no choice in whether he was used or not that night nor by whom and that the experience' was, if he wasn't a slave, a multiple rape of both his holes. As a slave, he had been used,' nothing more and nothing less.

"What I'm calling about, Romulus, is another aspect of Master Holgate's excessive generosity. Your Master Dallas had turned in a slip of paper requesting use of one of the litter slaves he saw at Master Holgate's party two weeks ago, Litter Slave 14. And your master Charles turned in a slip listing two slaves under my charge: a black galley slave named "GS 28" and one of the galley's drivers, an unshaven white slave Master Holgate named "Bedboy" when he bought him. Well, neither of your masters ever got around to calling for them that night - I suppose they were so busy using some of the other slaves at the party itself they forgot all about requesting those three earlier, not too uncommon considering what's available for them inside the house," the dockmaster continued. "Master Holgate, though, wants every slave requested to actually be used by whoever requested them, even if it's a couple of weeks after the event. To make a long story short, Romulus, your masters have worked their way up on the request list and the three slaves they requested are now available for their use. The usual arrangement is for me to deliver them to your master's house and pick them up 24 hours later unless they request an extension which can easily be arranged. Some guests, for example, ask for an extension if they want to breed these exceptional studs with some of their female stock in heat for a little extra profit down the line. Inform your masters of Master Holgate's generosity and get back with me today if possible. I take it they are in?"

"Yes, bossman. I'll tell them and call you back with their response. What's your number, bossman?" Romulus replied, well trained in telephone etiquette.

"788-7808, That's the direct line to the pens here at the dock where the galley and litter slaves are caged."

"I'll call you back as soon as I confer with my masters," Romulus promised.

"Do that, Romulus, and don't let them fuck you too hard when you're conferring with them," the dockmaster laughed as he hung up the phone.

Romulus sought out his masters who were relaxing out by their pool. Dallas was fondling the naked pool slave, a recent Egyptian acquisition bought locally but originally from the huge slave markets of Cairo. The 18-year-old boy was fully mature, but still stood only 5'6", had a muscular body with no hair on it outside his head hair, a handsome face featuring large black eyes, a prominent Ptolemaic nose and high cheekbones, and an unusually large circumcised penis prominently displayed due to a thick copper genital band that had been fitted to the slave that matched the tall collar welded around the slave's neck.. The slave, now labeled "Poolboy," was rock hard and dripping from his owner's manipulations.

When Romulus appeared, it was obvious he had a message for his masters and "Poolboy" knelt down to suck Master Dallas with a slight motion of his master's hand. Romulus was well aware that Egyptian slaveboys were currently quite cheap due to the huge numbers being exported from Egypt and wasn't surprised when his masters showed up with one in tow a short time ago..

"Permission to speak, masters?" Romulus said as he knelt down on both knees and touched his forehead to the ground in a slave's typical obeisance to those who own him. He only heard Poolboy's vigorous sucking as his own eyes were subverted to the ground beneath him.

"Yes, yes, we heard the phone ring," Master Dallas said. "What was it about, slave?"

Without moving his body from his position of respect, Romulus quickly relayed the Holgate dockmaster's message in its entirety.

"Call him back, slave," Dallas said, pausing mid-sentence as he arched his back and shot down the pool slave's clenching throat, "and tell him your masters gratefully accept Master Holgate's kind invitation to use the three properties and that we would appreciate an extra 24 hour extension for breeding purposes."

"Yes, masters," Romulus said as he quickly assumed an upright position and carefully backed up with his head bowed to get to the nearest house phone to inform the Holgate dockmaster as to his master's decision.

"You know, Dallas," Charles said as Romulus was leaving, "we've only got five of our female slaves in foal now. By my count, that means we've got two, a black and a white, we need to get knocked up if we're to keep to our plan."

Dallas watched as the pool slave cleaned his prick off noticing the Egyptian chattel was looking at Master Charles to see if his other master wanted to be sucked off also.

"Eager little whore, isn't he," Dallas laughed when he noticed Charles motioning for the slave to suck him off now. As soon as the pool slave had swallowed Charles shaft all the way down his throat and was busily sucking away, Dallas reviewed the two's breeding plans for their female slaves.

"Our goal was to keep all the female stock pregnant as much as possible. You can't do any better than Holgate studs as sires. We could put the black to the white brood around the clock - say every four hours and alternate the two whites with the black bitch - say one of them every three hours. That would give the white brood six good fuckings with the black stud in the 24 hours we're using the Holgate stock for breeding and the black bitch 8 good fuckings with white slave seed. If it's a good time in their ovulation cycle, we should end up with two exceptional mulatto slave pups. Mulattos always bring top market prices - especially if they're bred from good looking, well hung Holgate sires."

Charles nodded his head in agreement as he enjoyed the thorough oral servicing from their cute little Egyptian pool boy. The new slave boy was good to fuck up his ass too, if last night was any example. Both he and Dallas had fucked the boy repeatedly before finally falling off to sleep last night. Each had fucked the Egyptian slave again upon awakening for good measure and, again, were not disappointed with his every effort to please them in their use of his body.

"This slave is filling out nicely now that we've got him in the forced exercise program and on a high protein diet. I especially like the way he's slowly but surely getting a nice bubble butt on him and some real puffy pecs that show his tits off nicely," Dallas commented as he reached over and began kneading the slaveboy's tits as the slave continued vigorously swallowing Charles' organ clear down to the root, massaging it with his throat muscles as he suctioned for all he was worth.

"We needed another slave like a hole in the head," Charles gasped, "but at the price we got him for, we couldn't afford not to buy him. I wonder if all Egyptian slaves are this good at pleasuring their owners?"

Dallas continued fondling and kneading the slave's tits. "Personally, I like the way he manages to stay hard all the time. Of course," he chuckled, "not allowing him to shoot off helps in that."

"As well as that tight copper ring we've got banded around his manhood," Charles laughed as he grabbed the slave's head tightly and jammed his cock as far down the slave's throat as possible before shooting huge globs of fresh cum down into the slave's stomach. The Egyptian slave swallowed the entire amount without spilling a drop and quickly cleaned his master's prick when the spasms stopped and Master Charles withdrew his large organ from deep within the slave's throat.

Prior to his recent purchase by these two men, the Egyptian boy had never had a real master or mistress. In the desperate economic times of his country, professional slave hunters had taken to raiding small villages, especially in Southern Egypt where starvation was rampant and little resistance to slave raiding was evident since most people felt slavery for their offspring was preferable to them starving to death at home. The hunter's harvest found themselves crowded together in huge trucks (previously used to ship sheep) headed north to Cairo's mega-markets of human flesh.

There, the new captive was quickly branded, fitted with a slave collar, shaved and oiled and chained to a street display stand outside the slave pens where potential purchasers could examine the goods being offered. At first, the young boy had writhed and howled as people squeezed his balls to test firmness, stroked his prick to see how quickly he could be aroused, felt every muscle on his body, and even ran their fingers up his asshole to see how tight his hole was. No one paid the slightest attention to his objections and soon he settled down and just let people do what they wanted with his body to avoid the ever present whip that wrapped itself painfully around his naked body whenever he withdrew from a customer's probing fingers. Within three days, a wholesaler had purchased him, he was manacled tightly, placed in a cramped shipping cage, and placed in the hold of a cargo plane. Two days later and on solid ground again, he was fed, hosed down, and placed up for auction in a place he didn't have a clue as to where it was, what country he was in, let alone what city. The language was English and he could understand only a little of what was said. He knew he was being sold as a slave, he knew whoever bought him could do what they wanted with him (even kill him for sport if they so desired) and that he sold for a price considerably under what the big African blacks, Eastern Europeans, and Asian boys were bringing.

Now, purchased just like any other livestock, stark naked with a band around his neck and balls, he felt lucky to have not one, but two masters, who fed him well, were easy with the whip as long as he did exactly as they wanted, and seemed to appreciate the way he fulfilled their sexual needs to the best of his ability. He understood little of what they said, but could follow their gestures easily enough. The other slaves in the household all looked healthy, well cared for, and seemed uncomplaining, even in the privacy of the slave pens beneath the huge house. Overall, he felt lucky compared to the fates he saw some of the other slaves at the auction were headed for: draft slaves for the mines, field slaves for the agribusiness concerns, factory slaves for manufacturing corporations.

Being sold to a individual was a lucky break for a slave, and if the new master or mistress owned other slaves as well, it meant you didn't have to fulfill all of their needs all by yourself. Yes, he was one lucky slaveboy! Sucking cock and taking it up the ass was nothing compared to the fate of the others kidnaped from his village and sold at the same auction faced: a large muscular man with a small penis was sold to the mines; a sturdy looking 19-year-old but with an ugly face was sold to the farm managers; three more with unexceptional looks were sold to an auto assembler where they would be permanently chained to their work stations; two more were sold off to the city's sewage department. Only one other boy, a very handsome 20-year-old with a nicely shaped prick both long and thick, was sold to an individual: a middle aged mistress who wasn't particularly pretty, but was stern, even severe looking, especially with the steel-tipped whip that never left her hand. The only thing the new slave "Pool Boy" regretted in his new home was that he had been forbidden to cum. As a result, he was chronically hard and dripping, but that, of course, was what his owners wanted so he doubted if that would change in the near future.

Romulus wasted no time in returning the call to the Holgate's dockmaster.

"Bossman, Romulus here, Master Gibraldo's and Master Upland's personal house slave. My masters said to tell you they were extremely appreciative of Master Holgate's generosity and thoughtfulness in loaning out the three properties they had requested at Master Holgate's party. They said they would enjoy using these unexpected party favors for the 24 hour period scheduled and that they would like to request the 24-hour extension in that they do intend, if that is all right with your master, to breed all three studs with some of their female broods out of foal."

"Did your masters fuck you while you were conveying my master's generosity?" Bossman laughed.

"No, Bossman," Romulus chortled. "Not this time, anyway. They were fucking the mouth of a new Egyptian slaveboy they purchased a week or so ago." Romulus paused for effect and then added dramatically, "But the novelty will pass and they'll get back to craving the best black meat in town before too long."

"Self praise is no praise at all, you black bastard," the Holgate dockmaster laughed. "Especially since I pounded your black ass into pulp just a couple of weeks ago before I let the left-over galley slaves and litter bearers fuck you half to death. Best black meat in town my eye - remember what those black galley slaves looked like sticking it to you half the night. You cost 10 cents to the dollar for what they cost."

"The arrogance of you Holgate slaves is sobering to those of us at a more reasonable cost," Romulus chuckled.

"I'll deliver the three slaves myself tomorrow morning if I don't hear back from you. Short notice, I know, but your masters aren't going anywhere anyway probably, and Master Holgate likes to keep his stock engaged at all times. As he says, a slave's idol ass doesn't do anyone any good.'"

"That's because he's not a slave," Romulus chuckled again. "But my masters couldn't agree with him more, if this household is any example. It's rare around here I'm not fucked at least once a day and usually more."

"Don't feel alone, Romulus," Bossman sighed. "Even we slave overseers get used on a regular basis by the master's many guests as well as that squad of slave stewards that lord it over us. As for those under my whip - don't even ask. Well, when you're loaned out for use to his friends on a regular basis, you can only imagine."

"I know those you're bringing over are going to know they've been used good and proper before they leave this house, Bossman. Especially with the breeding duties thrown in."

"Well, they're used to it by now, Romulus. Can you arrange to let me fuck you again when I deliver the goods?"

"I don't mind, but you'll have to ask my masters, of course. If they give the nod, I'm all yours, Bossman," Romulus answered without hesitation and rather invitingly. Having some fresh meat up his ass was always a welcome novelty when you were stuck in a house with only two masters free to fuck you at any time.

When Romulus informed his owners of the planned delivery time, they were delighted the offer was going to be so promptly fulfilled, so there was no need to call Bossman back. At dinner that night, Dallas and Charles enjoyed the entertainment while they were eating: Romulus fucking their new Egyptian slave on top of the dining table. It was a magnificent display: sweating black muscle pounding into the quivering golden hued flesh of the young Egyptian boy who moaned and groaned throughout the ordeal as if he were being split in half. Finally, Romulus (on command from Master Dallas) shot into the boy's ass as Master Charles ordered the boy to cum simultaneously right onto the table. Poolboy' was overjoyed to be allowed to cum at last and responded with huge amounts of milky white cream sprewing all over the table while Romulus filled his ass with his own cum to overflowing. Both slaves stayed in place, breathing heavily to catch their breath, until their masters left the table. Only then did they crawl off the table, sliding and slipping in all the cum on the highly polished table beneath them.

Around mid-morning the Holgate dockmaster arrived with the three specific Holgate properties for 48 hour usage just as he had promised. The manner of arrival was, like so much of David Holgate's estate, pure theater.

Hitched to a gold-colored two-wheeled surrey were five magnificent beasts in full harness: two pure blacks, two blond whites, and a green-eyed mulatto in the lead position. Each of the five steeds were hugely muscled, had flawless hides (although the blacks were scarred a bit from the whips), were handsome to a fault, ringed around their huge erect phalluses as well as collared around their necks, all were fitted with heavy tit rings on their massive pecs, and all pranced daintily due to the large butt plugs embedded deep into their assholes disguised as long flowing red tails (thus explaining their constantly erect pricks) guaranteeing they essentially fucked themselves with every step they took. Each had bits in their mouths attached to the driver's reins and each sported a festive red plume attached to his head. The costuming, along with their sweat drenched bodies, made them look like handsome beasts of burden indeed (especially the white litter slaves who were additionally fitted with prominent nose rings). In the surrey was an unshaved white slave who served as one of the galley drivers who kept his whip in constant motion over the toiling beasts in front of him. Next to him was the gigantic dockmaster, clad only in his slave collar, prominent tit rings, and wide genital cinch.

Masters Dallas and Charles took in the sight with some amusement and swiftly went out on the street in front of their house to look over the beasts as well as the flamboyant surrey. As soon as the two masters were near, the dockmaster leaped out of the surrey and took a slave's proper position of obeisance, kneeling with his forehead pressed to the ground. The driver and the beasts of burden all bowed their heads in proper respect, the stallions' heavy breathing evident in the quiet.

"Permission to speak, masters?" the Holgate dockmaster queried.

"Permission granted, slave," Master Charles replied as he stepped over and ran his hands admiringly over the massive shoulder muscles of one of the harnessed black slaves.

"The black you are stroking, labeled GS28, is scheduled for your use over the next 48 hours, masters. And the white slave behind him, labeled LS14, is also for your use, masters. Also, master, the unshaved white slave serving as the driver, who Master Holgate calls

Bedboy' is scheduled for your use. These are the three slaves one or the other of you requested at my master's last party but were unable to use at that time. With your permission, Bedboy" will unhitch the two slaves up front and remove their harnesses, headpieces and tails. I'll keep those in the surrey's storage compartment for their return trip. All three slaves have been administered a full cycle of enemas right before we left, masters, and all have been fed. You won't need to feed them for the time you have them - all these slaves are used to going at least 48 hours between feedings when needed. But, if you do want to feed them, the standard dry slave chow with a bowl of water is their usual diet. You might want to rinse them off in that all three are covered in the sweat of their exertions right now, but then some masters enjoy the properties all the more when they glisten with the sweat of a slave's toils."

"Well said, slave," Charles chuckled as he stepped back and hefted the huge erect phallus of the white litter slave that was to be his in his hand. "Permission granted for the driver to unhitch the slaves, but why is the driver also coated in his sweat?"

"Master, the driver slave takes his assignment seriously and keeps those assigned to him for supervision severely disciplined at all times. Using the whip properly and constantly takes a lot of energy, master, as no doubt you are well aware. But," the dockmaster continued with some risk of talking too much in front of his betters, "the slaves under his yoke resent it when he breaks their hide in his enthusiasm and their backs and rumps are scarred and bloody. That's why, when those slaves are ordered to fuck him for a master's amusement, it is something to behold. Sometimes, I have to intervene to make sure the driver is kept alive and the master's unshaven white property isn't permanently damaged."

"Well, that's interesting. Are you suggesting I arrange some amusement of that sort in the time I have loan of these Holgate properties?" Charles asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I don't think you would be disappointed with that scenario," the dockmaster replied humbly as he remained in his position of obeisance. "It is just a suggestion, but remember, Master, the properties must be returned unharmed - well, at least no permanent injuries. We do allow for a guest's enthusiasm and full enjoyment in use of the properties."

As the driver quickly rearranged the remaining two slaves into a pair to pull the surrey to its next destination, the dockmaster arose and faced the two slaves now freed from their restraints along with the driver "Bedboy" and fastened a leash to their collars. He then handed the leashes to Master Dallas standing nearby as he instructed the loaned slaves.

"Master Dallas and Master Charles here," the dockmaster said as he nodded to the two men standing there, "will be your masters for the next 48 hours. Do everything they want with the pride, salacity, and skill of a Holgate slave or you risk being sold off to the mines or worse. Unfortunately, these masters were too busy the night of the party to personally enjoy your bodies. Now, that oversight is being corrected, thanks to the generosity and thoughtfulness of he who owns you. You know what to expect surely from being loaned out constantly to various guests since the party as you will continue to be until all guest's requests have been fulfilled. According to my calculations, that will be close to 10 weeks from now since most guests are asking for the 24 hours extension for breeding purposes, you lucky bastards."

The loaned slaves knelt at Master Dallas' feet, their knees wide apart to best display their ringed genitals and with their handsome heads bowed.

"According to my records, this black slave was requested by you, Master Dallas, and the white litter bearer was requested by you, Master Charles. Both of you, it turned out, had requested the driver Bedboy.' That's just a reminder, Masters, although it is totally irrelevant in that all three slaves are here for usage by either of you or anyone you want for the next 48 hours. I shall pick the properties up day after tomorrow at this same time and, if they're not totally exhausted at that time, they can be hitched back to the surrey for the trip home. But, if they're pretty well played out, we will simply walk them home," he smiled, letting the two masters know they could fuck the slaves into oblivion if they so desired.

"That's good to hear, dockmaster," Master Dallas spoke for the first time. "Aren't you the Holgate slave that fucked my black house slave Romulus in the dock's holding pens - along with a good four or five other unused galley slaves and litter bearers?"

"Yes, master," the dockmaster replied with his head still bowed, although his ringed prick swelled considerably at the remembrance.

"Yes, I can see you remember," Master Dallas said as he reached over and lifted the dockmaster's arising prick in his hand, squeezing the huge instrument until it was fully erect. "He told us all about his usage by the Holgate slaves when we picked him up at the holding pens as we left the party. His butt was so sore he could barely walk behind us on our trip home and his jaw was so sore he slurred his words," Dallas laughed, "but the experience loosened him up considerably - just what he needed."

The dockmaster saw his opening, at least with Master Dallas.

"When I pick the slaves up, you might enjoy watching a repeat of that experience, Master," the dockmaster suggested. "I am sure my master would want me to please his guests any way I can, and, Master, I find your slave Romulus very attractive. Having me fuck him for your pleasure would be one way both of us, Romulus and I, could express our gratitude for having such strong and commanding owners."

"Romulus could barely walk when we got him back," Dallas said as he continued to fondle the huge sex of the dockmaster. "I can understand now why you are showing so well. It might amuse me to see such a show. What do you think, Charles?"

Charles stepped over, brushed Dallas' hand away from the dockmaster's organ and felt the throbbing prick himself, hefting the slave's swollen balls with his other hand. "Being fucked by this thing would be good discipline for Romulus, Dallas," Charles announced, "and would be fun to watch. I only have one stipulation - when you're through fucking our slave Romulus, I'd like to fuck you before you return back to the estate's docks. It's always fun to fuck a slave who's in control of other slaves - teaches them humility, if nothing else, and reminds them of their station of life."

"It would be my pleasure, Master, to serve you anyway you want. And, master, if I may say so, you are certainly right about the need of slaves to be reminded of our station in life. Even Holgate stewards sometimes forget they are just properties, but, fortunately, Master Holgate makes sure they are fucked enough by his guests to remind them they are, after all, just pieces of bought flesh, purchased for the pleasure of others."

"I shall be happy to serve as your reminder, dockmaster, as no doubt will Master Dallas although you may be a bit too muscular for his tastes."

The dockmaster tried to hide the smile creeping across his face. Getting fucked was a small price to pay for the privilege of fucking the handsome black property of these two masters. With that, he took his leave, climbed into the surrey, picked up the whip, and with a loud crack on the rumps of the remaining harnessed black galley slave and the green-eyed mulatto slave, proceeded to deliver the striking mulatto to the next guest on his list. After that, he would deliver the black galley slave, now pulling the surrey and its driver alone, to the last person on his list, and then pull the surrey back to the Holgate docks himself, mission accomplished. At least, he had no driver on the return trip to whip HIS back into shreds!

Dwanga, now called GS28, stretched his throat fully to accommodate Master Holgate's party guest's sizeable prick who he was now loaned to for the next 48 hours. This Master Dallas, as he was called, had led him by his leash to the main hall of his manor house and motioned the black slave to his knees as he removed his clothing and then jammed his prick into the slave's mouth, forcing it all the way in until Dwanga's nose was well into this master's pubic hairs. But Dwanga was well trained and well used to sucking off Master Holgate's many guests. With little trouble, he took the large organ completely down his throat and suctioned forcefully while he ran his tongue around the pulsating shaft remaining in his mouth. He felt the master run his hands over his head, across his sweaty shoulders (still a little red from the driver's whip) and, finding his ringed nipples, began to play with them despite the fact they were slick with perspiration from the heavy pull to this house. The black slave reflected on how relaxed he felt, now that the huge tail plug had been removed from his butt and his anal chute now had a chance to close in on itself. Between the plugs embedded into the galley's rowing benches and the tails inserted when he was hitched to the surrey, his master's personal carriage, or one of the estate's freight wagons, his hole had gotten used to feeling full, but now the relief from that feeling was enjoyed. He knew, however, the relief would be temporary - he was pretty certain his sucking was simply a preliminary to being fucked by this master and the size of the organ he was now sucking was bigger than most masters he serviced, although not in the same league of most Holgate slaves, but they, of course, were highly selected for that specific trait.

As Dwanga felt his tits enlarge from the finger massage the master was giving them and got used to his throat and mouth being stretched to accommodate the task at hand, he felt one of the master's hands explore the tiny whip scars now embedded throughout his upper body as well as probe the depths of his highly muscled physique. This master seemed to enjoy the clean-smelling sweat he exuded from his body and, it was obvious, delighted in feeling, at his leisure, the warm black hide he was kneading. Dwanga was always curious as to why white masters seemed to so enjoy use of his black body, but then remembered plenty of black masters had used him also over the years. It wasn't so much a color thing, he decided, as much as it was the fact he was a slave and masters could do anything they wanted with a slave, regardless of the slave's particular color. Dwanga knew that if fortune reversed itself somehow and he was a master, the first thing he would do is enjoy the body of a slaveboy - regardless of their color. He couldn't imagine owning a slave and not using their body for your enjoyment. It was inherent in a master-slave relationship and certainly part of any sensible slave-owning society. Not that Dwanga was aware of any society anywhere that wasn't slave owning in this day and age!

Dwanga felt the master's prick begin to twitch in his throat and instinctively constricted his throat muscles to afford the master the most pleasure possible in discharging his load. But the master was ahead of him - he pulled out quickly and motioned for the slave to get on all fours with his legs wide spread and his well-lubed hole clearly presented. Dwanga knew exactly what he wanted and instantly assumed the standard slave position for being fucked. With no preliminaries or nary a word of comment, the master slid deep into his hole and began thrusting vigorously while the master's hands concentrated on kneading his ringed tits which were now swollen and sensitive to the point of considerable pain. But Dwanga knew the master couldn't last long at this rate of fucking him and the manipulation of his nipples wouldn't last too much longer. After all, Dwanga, if nothing else, was one experienced slave when it came to being fucked. Other than rowing the galley whenever there was a party or Master Holgate wanted to take a ride (in which case he was fucking himself with the damn inserted dildos in the rowing benches) , that's about all he did anymore - get fucked either by a master or by a plug forced up his butt whenever he was used as a pony or, less often, as a galley slave.

Sure enough, within minutes, he heard this Master Dallas began to pant harder and harder as he plunged deep into him, and then moan as he emptied his balls into the black slave's butt. As soon as the master withdrew, Dwanga knew to clean his prick with his mouth, removing all vestiges of the master's spent cum along with his own lubrications that remained on the master's shrinking staff. He felt the master's cum oozing out of his anal chute but paid little attention to it in that he was well used to that feeling by this time in his life.

"Where did you come from?" Master Dallas asked the black slave he had just fucked.

"Africa, Master," Dwanga answered respectfully.

"Where in Africa, slave?" Master Dallas probed.

"Master, I was raised in a tribal village deep into the Congo where my people existed by the men hunting antelopes and elephants and the women growing rice. But mainly we survived by hunting people we could sell to the professional slave dealers that came to our village once a year. By the time, they visited, we usually had a fairly good herd of slaves to sell them - men, women, and children - all of whom we could trade for stable food commodities, a little clothing, some pots and pans, some metal spears and even a few guns. Am I talking too much, master?"

"No, slave, continue," Dallas commanded.

"One day, the slave dealers came and we had few slaves to offer them - the hunt that year had yielded little in that most people had either already been caught by others or had moved far away or were too young or old to be of interest to the dealers. So they got us all drunk and then enslaved the whole village instead. Within a week, we were marched in chains to the huge slave market run for centuries by the Arabs in Brazzaville where I and one other of my tribe was sold to a Holgate agent who happened to be at the market the time I was up on the auction block. The two of us were the most muscular and possessed the biggest manhood of any of the young men within our tribe and both of us had been told many times we were the most pleasing to the eye of all our tribe. From there, the Holgate agent had us shipped to the Holgate mansion where I have been several years now, Master, known as GS 24, one of Master Holgate's black galley slaves."

"Well, GS24, how old are you now?" Dallas asked.

"Twenty-one years by my reckoning, Master, although I'm not sure," GS24 answered contritely.

"Since you weren't born a slave, was it difficult for you to adjust to your slavery?"

"No, master. It has been exactly as I expected, except Master Holgate treats his slaves better than we treated slaves back in my village."

"How so?" Dallas said with some curiosity, since the Holgate slaves were well worked both in and out of bed.

"We're nourished better with that slave chow they feed us and we're not overworked where our bodies are damaged. Master Holgate likes us looking our best and makes sure we're healthy and hearty to do that. Besides," he blushed a little, "we're rarely fucked more than five or six times a day when we're not hitched up to a wagon or rowing, and usually only once or twice if we're assigned those other duties. Compared to how we used to fuck the attractive slaves back in our village, that's very considerate since slaves are really nothing but property and can be used anyway their master or mistress want."

Dallas reflected that GS24, coming from a slave-holding community himself, was psychologically well prepared for his life as a slave and had adjusted to the demands placed upon him with relative ease. He would share that insight with Charles, who felt the only "good and reliable " slaves were ones bred to slavery, therefore knowing nothing else.

But Dwanga (or GS24) had no time to reflect on his recollections. Master Charles hooked a leash to his collar and, exchanging his white litter bearer with Master Dallas, led him away to an upstairs bedroom where he spent the next two hours being fucked on his back, bent over a bed, on all fours, or on his knees sucking. Indeed, Master Charles seemed inexhaustible when it came to sex and when his new master finally dozed off, Dwanga did likewise as rivers of cum oozed out of his ass and mouth.

Lars, the nose-ringed Estonian slave now serving as one of Master Holgate's prize blond litter bearers, had first been fucked by Master Charles with little preliminaries, but almost as quickly found himself exchanged for Master Dallas' black galley slave. Once that happened, Master Dallas played with his long blond hair, fondled his huge banded genitals just to the point or orgasm over and over, and suckled his ringed nipples atop his well formed pectorals until they were swollen, tender and sore. It was almost a relief when this new master finally entered his well lubed hole and leisurely began to fuck him - a process that took hours of on- again, off-again activity until his hole was as sore and tender as his tits. When Master Dallas finally discharged deep into his bowels, he thought he might get some rest, but was dead wrong on that score. The rest of the afternoon, Master Dallas had him leashed by his nose-ring feeding on his prick and he was amazed the young Master could produce five different discharges over the next hour or so, especially after the white slave thought he had emptied himself in his bowels rather completely only a hour or so before. But, eventually, Master Dallas had had his fill of the beautiful blond slave and drifted off into an afternoon nap with his prick again up the slave's ass and the white slave, previously named Lars, nestled up to the master's body and napped also, ever conscious of how sore his hole and tits were now.

Lars was even now only 20, but only the last two years were memorable. Up until 18, he had been a simple peasant boy, noted only for his ability to produce a lot of hard work with his trim and handsome muscular body and his skill in satisfying the local lasses' needs with his huge and ever-ready sexual equipment. Every widow and frustrated wife in the village lusted after his body as well and, for a small fee or a home-made pie, he accommodated them cheerfully.

But, on his 18th birthday, he got drunk and allegedly raped the mayor's daughter, although he could remember nothing of it. He was quickly tried, sentenced to life imprisonment, and removed to Estonia's only prison located some distance from his home village. The prisonmeister, as the administrative head was called, took one look at the youth stripped down at delivery, and made a quick phone call, while ordering the boy be put into protective custody to protect his "innocence."

Within 48 hours, a Holgate agent was at the prison taking delivery of his purchased goods, while the prisonmeister informed the aggrieved parents of his unfortunate death at the hands of another prisoner. He also personally informed Lars that he was being sold as a slave to a foreign buyer and that his family would get a monthly stipend for the loss of their son, but that this pension would abruptly cease if he ever ran away from his new "owner" or reappeared as a free man, thereby blocking any thoughts of escape the new "slave" might be harboring.

Within three hours, he was caged in the cargo hold of a air freighter headed to the United States and two days later his cage was delivered by truck to the Holgate mansion. There he had all of his body hair permanently removed save a pencil line beard, his long blond head hair and his eyebrows and eyelashes. He was neatly circumcised (a custom not practiced in his country), genitally banded to ensure proper display of his sizeable manhood, had his tits ringed, had his nose septum pierced and then fitted with a large "lead" ring (making him feel like a farm animal) and tightly collared around his neck with a metal collar so tall it forced his head into a permanent upright position.

Following that sobering introduction into slavehood, he was chained by his nose-ring to a Roman-style litter filled with weights and whip-trained to lift, run, trot, prance, and lower the heavy litter to a number of simple commands in English. Once he responded appropriately and without hesitation to those English commands and his endurance had been built up (along with his impressive muscular physique), he received further training in standing absolutely still with a willing smile on his face as people fondled all parts of his body, stroked his organ to full discharge, squeezed and massaged his balls and tits at will, and stroked his face (and any other part of him) to their heart's content. Once he no longer grimaced, tremored, or quivered at being handled like this and no resistance of any type was evident, he was placed in heavier training where he learned how to swallow even the biggest pricks all the way down his throat as he suckled unceasingly (including the discharges that inevitably resulted from this), learned to take huge dildos and almost-as-large dicks up his asshole without any resistance or flinching, learned how to control his own orgasms to only when he was ordered to discharge so he didn't debilitate his sexual enthusiasm for whoever was using him, and finally, how to fuck the master or mistress who was primarily interested in using him as a stud rather than a cum dump (again without any debilitating orgasm on his part). By the end of his training, Lars, the litter bearer, had been turned into a sex machine on command who also could carry a loaded litter all day long with little or no effort in perfect harmony with his other three bearers hitched to the litter by their tit rings. Only then was he rewarded with his assigned as a certified Holgate litter bearer - one of many - all hugely muscled whites, all blonds with blue eyes, all hugely hung, and all perfectly willing to let any and everyone use their bodies anyway they wanted. By then, of course, they were used to being leashed by their nose-rings and would follow any master or mistress with no hesitation by a simple tug on their nose leash whether it was to the nearest bed, to be displayed as a sex pet, or hitched to a litter or wagon.

Lars was usually kept leashed, chained, or caged but still there were occasional opportunities to run away if he were so inclined. But where would he go, naked, ringed, and penniless - easily identified as someone's property. On top of that, his return to freedom would bring a quick halt to his family's pension reimbursing them for the loss of their son. Besides, Lars reflected, it sure as hell beat life imprisonment in some bleak Estonian prison cell where he would be fed garbage, his ass and mouth used by all the guards and anyone stronger than himself without mercy, and probably die of malnutrition or disease within a few years, the well-known fate of most Estonian long term prisoners. Yes, he was lucky to have ended up as one of Master Holgate's famous blond litter bearers even though, like now, he was in someone's bed as often as he was toting a litter.

Just then, Master Charles awoke enough to jerk his nose leash and begin fucking him once again.

Bedboy' had been left in the custody of one of this manor's house slaves, a handsome black slave named Romulus, who had fastened his collar leash to one of the restraining rings fitted into the parlor's wall. It was obvious from the black slave's swollen prick that he wanted to fuck this new white slave, but probably couldn't without his master's permission. Feeling sorry for the black slave, he reached over and tentatively took ahold of the black slave's prick and began stroking it.

Romulus broke into a huge smile and thrust his organ further into the leashed white slave's hand.

"What does your owner call you?" Romulus asked, enjoying the unexpected massage.

"Bedboy," the white slave answered.

""Why aren't you shaved, Bedboy?" Romulus asked out of honest curiosity, since almost all slaves were body shaved these days. "You're awfully hairy."

"Master Holgate likes his drivers white, fairly small, and with full body hair for some reason or another. I think it's because it makes a nice contrast with the huge, muscular brutes were driving who are all kept smooth, but I'm not sure," he said as he confidently stoked the black slave more vigorously and with his other hand began gently massaging the black slave's large balls."

"What does a driver do?" Romulus asked with considerable innocence

"Uses the whip on the galley and pony slaves to insure they're putting forth their best effort at all times, regardless," Bedboy answered by rote. "In plain language, we beat the hell out of the slaves in yoke or impaled on the galley benches until their blood mixes with the sweat and paints a nice picture of total subjugation on their backs and rumps. If they howl in pain, all the better according to the masters and if they collapse in their yokes, we're expected to beat them until they're back at it once again. They give us all sorts of whips to use: braided ones that sting more than tear the skin, the steel-tipped whips that tear their hide into shreds, the rhino whips that tear the muscle under the skin and cause indescribable pain, and the bull whips when the slave's life is about over anyway and there is only the organ salvage value to concern yourself with. It takes a good two months of heavy training to become a slave driver that meets the master's satisfaction. Your job is to motivate a slave under the yoke to maximum effort without permanently depreciating the value of the slave himself - it's an art to find the best compromise. When you've found it, your master is satisfied and you don't risk being sold off to a far worse fate.

"But, in the case of the Holgate drivers, that alone isn't enough. We also have to be handsome, cute in our smallness, agile in a master's bed, well hung ourselves, and totally accepting of any use of our bodies by our betters, including the slave stewards and overseers. Behind all that is the steady fear of finding ourselves caged with those we've driven with the whips - it's every driver's nightmare. In fact, the best way to discipline a slave driver is to threaten to kennel him with those under your whip. Just the thought of it makes you do anything - anything - to please a master, let me tell you."

"Well, I don't think you have to worry here too much, Bedboy," Romulus said as he started stroking the muscled slave's penis and nipples in return. "I heard the dockmaster say both of my masters had picked you to pleasure them. I doubt if they'd want you torn up by the black galley slave or the white litter bearer assuming they were under your whip at one point or another."

"Of course they were, Romulus," Bedboy replied. "I drove them here in harness under my whip and the blood on their backs proves it. A slave doesn't forget that lightly."

Romulus laughed softly as he continued his gentle manipulations. "Slaves aren't dumb, Bedboy. They know you as a slave yourself have no choice but to beat them and that you're simply following their master's orders. Besides, I'm sure they're aware you're bedded down and fucked as much as they are - well, maybe not as much - but fucked plenty anyway. After all, both my masters wanted to fuck you and, believe me, they will. I'm glad you're here, Bedboy. It will give my ass a chance to heal and maybe with some rest, my nipples will get back to normal."

"You mean, Romulus, you're the usual outlet for your masters' needs?" Bedboy asked.

"Well, not entirely. They have a number of slaves around to fulfill their needs, including a handsome newly-acquired Egyptian boy, but he's just a current novelty. But I'm in heavy usage as they say and have been ever since they have owned me. Besides, Bedboy, they plan to breed from you, I think, although I can't imagine why with your size. Maybe they want a few little slave pups that are cute rather than huge. There's always a market, especially among mistresses, for a cute little male slave with big equipment I imagine. Some slave dealers specialize in such properties, I understand," Romulus added meaningfully.

"Jesus, I've never been bred before, but I suppose there is always a first time," Bedboy shuttered. "If that's the case, you better stop stoking me or I won't be worth a damn at stud."

"Oh! I hadn't thought of that," Romulus said contritely as he quickly released his hands from the slave's body. "I was just trying to comfort you - you seemed so anxious being loaned out like this. Where did you come from, anyway?"

"It's ironic in view of what you just told me, but I'm a bred slave myself. Produced at a breeding operation right here in America - not too far from here actually - that turns out all sorts of specimens on a pretty massive scale considering how long it takes their product to become fully marketable."

"What's their yearly output?" Romulus asked, very interested in the idea slaves could be made to order and in great quantity.

"0h, at least 5000, I'd say, judging from how full the pens always were."

"Are they all like you?" Romulus said in his innocence at the idea of bred slaves.

"Hell no, Romulus. Only a few like me - small, white and hairy for specialized markets. They had blacks as big and smooth as you and just as well hung, hairless Asian boys and girls as docile as sheep, Mediterranean types with olive-colored skins and dark eyes, brutish blacks so big you were scared to even look tat them, and loads and loads of whites - mainly blonds with blue or green eyes, huge physiques, and so heavy hung you wouldn't believe it - well, maybe you would believe it if you're seen the Holgate properties. That white litter slave we brought over was common enough at the breeding farm and the huge muscular black galley slave - there were plenty just like him at the breeding farm also, although most of them weren't quite that black, more of a brown, I'd say. That black galley slave is from Africa - the ones at the breeding farm are from American stock primarily."

"How come they turn out like that?" Romulus asked, obviously not thinking this through.

"Selective breeding, dummy," Bedboy laughed. "You pick the right stud and the right brood mare and, nine times out of ten, you get just about what you had in mind."

"My masters are trying to do that too on a small scale," Romulus observed. "That's why they're going to breed all three of you to their wenches that are in heat. They want to produce some nice looking, well hung mulatto slaves that will sell well for a variety of uses - of course slaves headed for a mistress or master's bed will bring the best prices as they are well aware - purchasing slaves themselves from time to time, but there's still money to be made in slaves headed for the assembly plants, construction work, road crews, and the mines. That's where they plan to get rid of the runts of the litter or where they didn't pick the stud and brood carefully enough."

"I don't know of any masters not trying to pick up a little extra on the side by breeding their slaves nowadays. They keep this up and they'd flood the market eventually - pretty soon slaves like us won't be worth much at a market and then slaves in general are in for big trouble."

"Why?" Romulus said, revealing he wasn't the brightest slave on the block.

"Look, stupid. If slaves get cheap enough, they become disposable. Once that happens, we're not worth feeding properly, worth getting decent treatment, or are subject to getting the quick buck by working us to death in short order. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. The more we cost, we better care we get. That's why being in the league of a Holgate slave is paradise - we're too valuable to NOT take care of."

"Makes sense, Bedboy. Masters Dallas and Charles paid plenty for me and, other than fucking me half to death, they take good care of me. I can't complain."

"As if complaining would do a slave any good," Bedboy said, disgusted at Romulus' apparent lack of getting the big picture involved in contemporary slavery.

It was a good thing Romulus hadn't actually milked the hairy small white slave for soon Dallas showed up and took him by his collar leash to his own bedroom where he fucked the small white thoroughly. When he had finished, Charles was right there and again the slave was led by his collar leash to the other master's bedroom where again he was fucked throughly. Both masters seemed to be fascinated with a slave with hair on his body and played with it the entire time they were enjoying fucking him.

That evening, the dinner entertainment consisted of Romulus being fucked by first the black galley slave and then the white litter bearer, both of whom were delighted to be allowed sexual release in this manner. But then, the small hairy white slave, who had been keep busy sucking both masters under the table during this time, was ordered up onto the table himself and the black galley slave was ordered to fuck him for the master's amusement.

"Remember, he's the one who put the blood on your back," they reminded the black as he swiftly mounted the white slave who was on all fours and shuddering in abject fear.

But Bedboy need not have been so fearful. GS24 fucked him forcefully and hard, but not with vengence or malice. When the white litter bearer was also ordered to fuck the small hairy white slave, although not gentle by any means, he didn't tear him to pieces either, although with his large equipment he could have done so if he wanted.

"Romulus, who he had thought was dumb, wasn't so dumb afterall." Bedboy thought to himself as he remained on all fours with his legs wide apart taking the rigorous fucking atop the dining table while the two masters enjoyed the sight. "Romulus understands slave mentality better than I do," Bedboy reflected as the pounding up his ass continued. "These slaves fucking me understand I have to beat them because of my master's orders. They would do the same in my place." With that last thought, he felt gratitude, rather than malice, toward the slaves pounding his ass so roughly and forcefully. They could kill him, right here on the dining room table, and he got the impression that Masters Dallas and Charles wouldn't mind all that much, even having to pay Master Holgate for the loss of his property. "There's sort of a fraternity of slaves," he thought as he felt Lars, the nose-ringed litter bearer, empty a huge load well up his hole with a resounding shudder throughout his body. "I'm glad Lars got his rocks off at last," Bedboy thought. "At least I can do that for him in return for his kindness in not killing his torturer once he's in harness."

"Shall be start the breeding tonight and get a head start on it?" Dallas asked Charles as the fucking of the hairy white slave in front of them continued.

"Why not? I suggest we start with this one getting fucked so royally. We should put him with that small black wench assigned to the kitchen staff. The steward tells me she's in heat now and will take readily enough. The git should be small, well hung, and hairy if it's a male pup; small and pretty if it's a female pup. I'll douche the bitch with vinegar before we put him to her - that will increase our chances of getting a male pup out of the breeding or so they say," Charles replied.

"Well, I'll get the slaveboy down here on the floor and stroke him until he's hard and dripping and ready to breed - no need to clean his ass out, is there? " Dallas asked, "while you're having the bitch give herself a good vinegar douche. Tell her we want a male pup out of this and we want her taking on the first fuck. A good whipping if we have to put her under a stud a second time."

With that, Bedboy was humping away into the vinegar-flavored cunt of the young slave girl who had slivered beneath his sweaty body on the floor in a corner of the dining room while both the slaves he had delivered watched along with Romulus, the newly-acquired Egyptian slave and his two masters. Being watched as he fucked a cunt for the first time only added to his sexual drive and in no time at all he delivered a huge load of fresh slave seed into the wench beneath him. He hoped for her sake she'd take with that load. He hated to see a slave whipped over something a breeding wench had little control over. That's why he had made sure he had delivered as big a load as he knew how to do, despite the fact it left him shivering in exhaustion.

"You give her a full load, slave?" Master Charles asked as Bedboy's felt his balls being squeezed tightly by the master to make sure they were fully emptied.

"Yes, master," Bedboy answered, sweat covering his body as he tried to catch his breath from the vigorous fucking.

"Well, if she doesn't catch, we'll have you humping your heart out, you little bastard, as well as put some real men to the task," looking over at the huge black galley slave and the hugely hung litter slave.

That night, GS24 and the white litter slave named Lars were again fucked by both masters repeatedly. By morning, both masters were completely exhausted as were the loaned slaves they had leashed to their beds. Nothing much happened until noon the next day unless you counted Romulus and the Egyptian slaveboy cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and completing all the gardening tasks they were expected to do. Bedboy had been caged after being force-mated and was still curled up in the cramped pen giving his drained balls a chance to fill up completely again. He had a feeling he was to be bred repeatedly before he went back to the Holgate pens.

Bedboy was right. During the next 24 hours, he and Lars were put to the black kitchen wench every three hours, first Lars and, three hours later, Bedboy, so every six hours each of their balls were emptied in the attempt to produce a mulatto slave pup, either small cute one or a large veritable stud with blond hair. GS24 had a busier breeding schedule: every four hours he fucked a white slave wench also assigned to the kitchen who had never been mated with a black before and found the experience exotic if not somewhat painful due to the black stud's huge size. By the time of their leaving, the breeding projects had been successful: both wenches were knocked up once again and on their way to producing yet another sellable possession for their master. The wenches were actually grateful they were pregnant again: they escaped the severe punishment they would have received if they hadn't of conceived for their master's benefit and they enjoyed being mated with such good looking specimens of manhood who were well equipped to offer them maximum pleasure in the prescribed couplings.

Masters Dallas and Charles had all three loaned slaves suck them off two or three times during the day, knowing sucking a master would in no way effect their output - maybe even enhance it with the input of their own seed into the slave's stomachs to digest. And, of course, they fucked Romulus and the Egyptian slave once during the day for good measure.

Soon enough, it was time to return the loaned slaves and the dockmaster showed up exactly as scheduled in the golden surrey, again drawn by three slaves: a black galley slave; a white litter bearer, and the striking mulatto with green eyes. All three, loaned out themselves over the past 48 hours, had obviously weathered their usage well enough to be back in full harness once again, although they didn't look quite as frisky as before and their penises were only showing half-hard this time around despite their tight genital rings.

As the white driver hitched GS24 and Lars back into full harness and was busily putting in their bits, placing their headdress in place, and inserting their "tails" once again, the dockmaster reminded Masters Charles and Dallas of the demonstration he promised he would do for them with their slave Romulus, i.e., fucking Romulus right here on the street for their entertainment.

The two masters had completely forgotten about the earlier invitation and quickly called Romulus out to the street and on all fours with his knees spread wide. But Romulus hadn't forgotten and had prepared for the event carefully by a series of enemas (routine in the morning anyway) followed by a particularly heavy lubing taking into account the size of the dockmaster's equipment. As he had told the dockmaster earlier in his phone conversations, he wasn't adverse to being fucked by the handsome large black overseer if his owners consented to his being used like this and actually welcomed the novelty involved.

The dockmaster wasted no time, fearful Romulus' owners might change their minds in use of their property, and without any hesitation hunched over the black slave offered, shoved his huge penis up the offered butthole, and wrapped his large hands around the slave's muscular waist for stability.

As he began vigorously fucking the black slave beneath him, the dockmaster whispered into Romulus' ear.

"I told you I'd fuck your pretty black ass and it's just as delightful as I thought it would be, slaveboy. If I owned you, I'd keep you so stuffed you'd never walk again, you black bastard. You'd think you had died and gone to slave heaven," he gasped as he humped away forcefully.

"Um," was all that came out of Romulus throat and, indeed, he was fully enjoying the skillful fucking of his ass by the magnificent hunk of black flesh atop him. The slaves in harness, stimulated by the plugs deep inside them once again, quickly became hard and dripping as they took in the erotic sight (and even the hot smell of sex) in front of them. Bedboy practically drooled as he took in the sight, having secretly longed to be fucked by the dockmaster for several years now.

But it didn't take long until the dockmaster was moaning from the sexual tension building within him and, with several long forceful plunges all the way into the beautiful brown slave beneath him, sprayed his load deep into Romulus' chute with a final gasp that could be heard a block away. Romulus was so excited he too shot his load, spilling a large pool of white cum beneath him with squeals of joy and delight.

"Apparantly, the dockmaster knows how to massage a slave's prostate with his huge instrument," Dallas said wryly, "if that pool under Romulus is any example."

"The dockmaster promised us a good show and I'd say he delivered," Charles laughed. "Black on black always excites me, but this was great," he added, once again displaying his well known preferences for black slave flesh, all things being equal.

"Well done, dockmaster," Charles shouted out as the dockmaster extracted his huge tool from the house slave of the two masters. "Master Holgate would be proud of you."

"Thank you, master," the dockmaster replied humbly with down cast eyes as he quickly assumed his seat in the surrey beside the driver who now held the harnessed slave's reins and had his whip ready in hand.

Those harnessed had all been fucked numerous times by the dockmaster, of course, as was his privilege as their overseer, and all understood you knew you had been fucked like never before after the dockmaster had taken his pleasure with your body. They looked at Romulus, still unmoving on his hands and knees, starring down at the pool of his own cum beneath him. His open hole was still quivering from the dockmaster's usage. They had all been in his place and understood why he felt temporarily paralyzed.

They were jarred out of their reverie when the dockmaster signaled the driver to get under way and instantly the whip was again fiercely biting into the harnessed slaves' rumps and shoulders and soon after that they felt the huge plug deep within them begin churning away, giving them the feeling they were being fucked with each step they took. It had been a pleasant relief from all this to be loaned out for 48 hours to some strange set of masters who little more than fucked them, had them suck them off, and put them to a couple of quivering young breeding wenches over and over. If was certainly better than a constant whip on your back and a huge tail implant impersonally churning in and out of your hole with each step you took. But they knew this wouldn't last too long. They remembered the dockmaster told them the waiting list for their usage was over 10 weeks long and, even now, they were on their way to the next master or mistress on the list, whoever it might be. When the list was gone, would there be another party scheduled by Master Holgate? Would they be rented out for added profit (it had happened in lapse periods in the past)? Or would they be put to pasture for a while (along with a vigorous forced exercise program) to get their assholes tightened up, their sexual skills freshened, and their bodies totally rested? During the last "rest period" several years ago, the herd had been culled and a few aging colleagues were sold off, those completely worn out were shipped off to the organ banks, and those making the cut had been sharpened' through heavy discipline and new training programs.

But none of these Holgate slaves had to worry about that now - after all, the list for usage wouldn't be satisfied for at least another 10 weeks and by then, if history was any indicator, Master Holgate would have planned another one of his famous parties.

Dallas and Charles took their spent slave Romulus back into the house, ordering him to cleanse himself inside and out for their use that afternoon. Before that, they intended to get out the appropriate thank-you note to David Holgate for the generous use of his three slaves. When they had hastily signed up for the those slave's usage on their way to the inside of the Holgate mansion (and then forgot all about them in the activities of the long evening), they never dreamed the magnanimous host had a scheme for every guest getting to use every single piece of slave flesh they had signed up for - and then some, considering his generosity in inviting them to be used as breeding stock. They wanted to word their thank-you note in such a way they could wrestle another party invitation out of him and possibly win even another handsome slave in one of his party lotteries.

Alas, the Holgate lottery prize they had won at the last party was long gone. They had been offered so much for the incredibly handsome muscular blond slave by a female friend, neither of them felt they could afford to keep such an expensive piece of stock on hand. The huge blond slave's new mistress was obviously to his liking - when the sale was first proposed, the slave they had named Viking' literally dripped in sexual excitement just at the thought of being owned by a mistress and the offer was 10 times over what they had paid for Romulus, let alone the relatively cheap Egyptian boy they had acquired since then.

"He's too rich for our blood," was Charles' iconic comment on the mistress' outlandish offer for her potential new blond bedbuck.

"By all that dripping just looking at her, it's obvious the slave prefers a mistress over a master, no matter how handsome and appealing the masters are. Slaves can't have preferences, but he's never dripped like that looking at us," Dallas dryly added.

With that, Viking' had a new owner, his previous two masters were considerably wealthier, and the blond slave now found himself in his new mistress' bed carefully following her every command.

But back to the problem of the thank-you note. Perhaps they would send Romulus and the Egyptian slave (with an invitation to use them attached to their slave collars) to the Holgate mansion with the well-worded thank-you note. But then, what were their slave's attractions compared to the Holgate properties? Just as well to send it using a standard slave courier. But a follow-up call in a few days might not be too officious. They could use the success of the forced matings as an excuse.

Well, one could only hope. Little did they know that as they were composing the thank- you notes, David Holgate was busily planning his next party to be staged in four months time. By then, all the stock would be through meeting their obligations to the guests of the previous party, had plenty of time to rest and be culled, plenty of time to learn a few new skills, and plenty of time to orient new stock to the Holgate standards and expectations. His good friend, Claude DuPree was helping him work out the details each and every day. "What Marco Polo Really Discovered" was to be the theme and the settings would include medieval Venice, most of the Middle East, India and, of course, ancient Cathay. There would be magnificent slave- powered barges on Venician canals, Arabian male harems better than anyone's imagination to date, handsome Indian temple slaves with unbelievable sexual skills, and Chinese royal pleasure courts even the ancient Chinese emperors would envy. All 650 of his slaves would have prominent roles in the production (as David Holgate liked to think of his parties) and plans included the slaves earning every bit of their keep and then some before the party was over. Cost was no object. He kept in mind throughout the planning that he had a reputation to maintain: he couldn't rest on his laurels when he was "THE VOLUPTUARY."

THE VOLUPTUARY

by Bill Smith

CHAPTER 20

THE SECOND PARTY: WHAT MARCO POLO REALLY DISCOVERED

Three months later:

Apparently, their strategy for another party invitation paid off. Dallas Upland and his partner Charles Gilbrado had both obtained invitations for their second Holgate party. The fabulous party, to be held only 30 days in the future, was teasingly being announced as "What Marco Polo Really Discovered," and publicly stated in the invitation that it would outdo all other Holgate parties. It was sure to be the talk of the town!

Whether Dallas and Charles had been invited to their second Holgate party because they had so promptly and sincerely thanked him for use of Master Holgate's three properties (the black galley slave, the white litter bearer, and the white unshaved galley overseer they had preferenced at their first party and had been delivered for their use two weeks later) or whether David Holgate genuinely enjoyed their company would never be known. The two were overjoyed they had both reached the "second invitation" level from David Holgate, a.k.a. The Voluptuary,' a guaranteed social status in that alone.

The invitation to their second party had been delivered in a way only The Voluptuary' could come up with. An extremely handsome fully naked Holgate slave had arrived at their door and promptly dropped to his knees. The courier was heavily muscled, brown-skinned and blue eyed, and "dressed" in heavy tit rings, a thick band around his exceptionally large genitals, a tall heavy collar that forced his head into a permanently upright position, and with a smart-looking small nose ring that matched the metal of his collar. There was a huge smile on the slave's face which showed off his perfect white teeth as he looked up at David and Charles eagerly. The slave leaned forward as they stared at him and kissed each of their feet as an opening gesture. Then, with a strained look on his handsome face, he literally laid an egg: in this case a large ostrich-egg sized copper container was expelled from the slave's anus and fell on the entry floor beneath him. The slave quickly scooped up the grease covered copper egg, screwed it apart to reveal some papers inside, and presented the opened egg' to the two astonished masters so they didn't have to touch the greasy egg' itself, only the contents. The handsome slave waited as they gingerly lifted out the contents (a parchment invitation and a response card), his knees spread wide to best show off his semi-erect cock and large balls as his position also displayed his well-defined abs, his puffy pectorals, his ringed tits, and his heavily muscled collared neck.

"My God," Charles exclaimed as he took the parchment invitation in hand. "It's still hot from the slave's body."

"Has that great big metal egg been up your ass the entire way over here?" Dallas asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, master," the slave said, his smile continuing. "And I'll carry your reply back the same way, master. The steward says they're more secure that way," in a tone that conveyed he thought it all very logical and made good sense.

"But,... isn't it hard to run with that up your butt, slave?" Charles interjected. "That copper egg is a lot bigger than any prick put up your hole, I'd wager."

"Yes, master," was all the courier slave could think to reply. But then he added, "You get used to it, master, after a while."

Charles carefully studied the calligraphed invitation to the next party that included directions to mark the enclosed response card' as to whether they would be able to attend or not, put that card back in the metal container, and the courier slave would screw the egg back together and then re-insert the egg' up his ass for the return trip. Or, of course, the recipient of the invitation could insert the egg himself in the slave if he so wanted. Dallas and Charles quickly checked their acceptance of the invitation with a satisfied chuckle, placed it back in the open egg' still in the slave's outreached hands, and motioned for him to turn around with his ass presented to them conveniently. The two masters then jointly rammed the now closed egg up the asshole of the brown skinned , heavily hung muscular slave who grunted and grimaced slightly as the large container was thrust back up his ass, but quickly thanked them as he kissed both their feet and, with the grace of a gazelle (despite the large protrusion up his ass), leaped to his feet and took off running back to the party coordinator at the Holgate slave pens presumably.

Dallas and Charles clutched the invitation in their hand, happy they had now reached a new social distinction - a second Holgate invitation. Upon returning to the interior of their house, they quickly celebrated in their usual fashion: Charles fucked the black house slave Romulus (always handy for just that purpose) and Dallas fucked their Egyptian slave who continued to serve his two new masters even better than when he had first been purchased several months ago. Now the Egyptian wasn't surprised when Dallas snapped his fingers and motioned for him to get on all fours for a good fucking - he had long ago learned to make sure his chute was completely cleaned out and well lubed for just such usage at all times.

Soon the two house slaves had warm cum dripping out of their well-used holes and were cleaning their master's shafts with their mouths before lapping up any ass juices and spent cum off of the well polished floors. Their masters were already planning what they would wear to the party and if they would take one of their slaves with them this time.

Since the party theme was "What Marco Polo Really Discovered," Dallas and Charles first decided they would wear only a richly decorated tunic typical of 13th century Venice that could be quickly removed if this Holgate party was anything like the last one. They reasoned they would need the covering only for getting to and from the party and probably would have nothing on during the party itself if the party activities were up to the usual Holgate standards where clothing of any type would only be an incumbrance. The second decision was to not take any of their own slaves - their experience at the last Holgate party told them personal slaves were only in the way, were totally unnecessary in view of the surfeit of Holgate slaves designated for their use, and, frankly, no slave they owned could really measure up to the Holgate standards where exceptional was the norm and even the kitchen help was standard- setting for slave pulchritude and sex appeal.

That decided, they reread the invitation again and pondered what small hints were in it concerning the party itself: there was mention of Indian temple slaves, an Arabic harem, and Cathay Royal Palace slaves. It sounded like David Holgate III planned to outdo himself once again with this new party. Well, he apparently had the money to do it and, with 650 of the world's most attractive slaves attached to his mansion alone, he certainly had the menagerie on hand to pull off most anything he could dream up.

A week later:

As Charles and David arrived at the Holgate dock on the river where the fabled mansion was located, they were immediately escorted onto a Venetian barge comfortably accommodating about 20 passengers at a time on its upper deck which featured a glass floor and lots of naked male slave waiters, all apparently at the end of their teen years and all completely body shaved, bearing various canapes and drinks. Every waiter was white, green- eyed, black-haired, well endowed and was showing hard as they circulated among the invited guests. Beneath them, visible through the glass floor, the guests could look down on rows of sweating oarsmen, all chained in place on their rowing benches, all completely naked, and all muscular, jet black, completely body shaved, and to a man, fully erect.

"Looks familiar," Charles said, staring down through the glass floor at the hyper- muscular slaves beneath them. "But this time, we both know the secret of keeping them hard all the time," he laughed.

"If you had that peg up your ass, you'd be hard too," Dallas laughed, revealing he too knew the secret. Holgate galley slaves were seated on huge dildos implanted in the rowing benches themselves - every movement of the slaves so impaled led to fucking themselves. As if to demonstrate how the system worked, a whip cracked over the backs of the chained oarsmen and the galley began to move away from the dock as the black slaves worked both the oars in their hands and their asses impaled on the implanted dildos. A communal moan drifted up from the deck below as the slaves reacted not only to the overseer's whip but also to the fucking motions in their well stretched assholes. Soon the smell of the slave's heavy sweat also drifted up to the top deck as the overseer's constant whip spurred the oarsmen into heavy action and the huge galley rapidly glided up the river toward the mansion itself.

"I don't see any numbers on either the slaves serving us or the ones rowing below," Dallas commented. "I wonder if our host didn't want to obligate himself sending them out for weeks afterwards on his guests' whims of the moment. I thought it was a little over the top, even though I did enjoy the three slaves he sent over to us for two days."

"Nor any silly little pads of paper to write the numbers down," Charles replied. "Maybe the famous Voluptuary' has come up with something else equally extravagant," he added as he began fondling the waiter nearest him, a well hung handsome white boy who was fitted with a shiny thick band around his genitals matching his unusually tall slave collar which forced his head into a permanent upright position. The waiter stood absolutely still as the guest fondled his tits and balls, his only movement the tilting of his pelvis forward and spreading his legs apart to better facilitate the handling of his balls. The tray of drinks he was holding remained on the palm of his upstretched hand with nary a jiggle. Charles reached up with one hand and took one of the drinks on the tray, put it underneath the boy's large erect prick, and slowly stroked the slave's huge organ until he produced a full load of steaming hot cum into the drink itself. Other than a gasp as he went into orgasm, the slave never moved beyond a slight shudder as he emptied his balls into the drink. Even the drinks on the tray still in his upraised hand never spilled a drop.

"Holgate slaves are so damn well trained," Charles said as he took swizzle stick and mixed the fresh cum into his drink. "Can you imagine that Egyptian boy we bought being able to hold a tray of drinks steady at shoulder height while we jerked him off?"

"He couldn't even hold himself steady as he spurted off, let alone not spill the tray all over the floor," Dallas chuckled.

By this time, the replica of the 13th century Venetian galley was nearing the dock on the other side of the river leading up to the Holgate mansion. The pegs up the rowers' ass were showing their effectiveness: beneath them, Dallas and Charles noted that practically every black slave's thighs were coated with a thick coating of white cum that had just recently spurted out of their banded genitals. The stint on the oars had gone exactly as planned: each slave had fucked himself into an orgasm which could be shared with the guests looking down on them through the glass floor.

"Do you think they shoot off every trip across the river?" Dallas laughed as he and Charles took in the sight below them.

"Maybe," Charles replied. "There's about 20 on this galley. I suppose he has about 100 guests. That's five trips over and five trips back. Hell, that would be 10 loads altogether. Even the best trained blacks couldn't produce that much!"

As soon as they disembarked from the galley, the riddle was solved. The galley simply floated back to the dock on the other side of the river - they had come upstream the entire way. Therefore, the black rowers didn't had to churn their butts on the dildos deep within them on the return trip and could store up for the next trip upstream with guests. They would only shoot off five times that way, not 10.

"Clever," Charles announced as he watched the galley float silently back to its original mooring. "That way, each load of guests gets a good show, the slaves only have to shoot off five times in succession, and it sure as hell saves wear and tear on their backs. See, the overseers have put their whips back in their belts for the little cruise back."

"Still, there was quite a bit of blood from the whips on the way over," Dallas commented. "And being fucked five times to an full discharge is a lot of wear and tear on the slave's prostates, let alone their chutes, no matter how heavily they're lubricated. God, they must stuff those slave's asses with so much K-Y, they're oozing for a week after this."

"Well, we've had Romulus shoot off five times within a hour once when we both fucked him over and over and he seemed to weather it OK," Charles chuckled. "And that damn Egyptian boy we bought never seems to run dry. Of course, he's usually on the other end of things - drinking it down, not pumping it out."

"Remember that blond boy we won at Holgate's last party? The one we sold off - at a very nice price, I might add - to the lady that had the hots for him?"

"Yeah. What about him?" Dallas replied as he studied the other guests making their way up to the mansion's entrance from the dock they had just stepped off of. Most of the guests, he noticed, had chosen the same attire as they had - a classic Venetian tunic that could easily be slipped on or off with little or nothing underneath. He also noticed that absolutely none of them, on this batch of guests at least, had encumbered themselves with a personal slave of their own. Obviously, they were all repeat Holgate guests and knew from experience that a slave of their own under tow would only be in the way and would prove an embarrassment - hardly any slaves available in the markets could begin to compare to the Holgate slaves, carefully selected from markets all over the world or actually bred to order at one of the Holgate slave-breeding operations.

"Well," Charles continued, "no matter how much we fucked him, he rarely shot off and, when he did, it was just a little dribble. Usually, he wasn't even hard when we pumped his butt. I'm surprised that new mistress of his hasn't demanded her money back since she bought him for her bed primarily."

"His heart wasn't in it," Dallas replied. "He was really perverted. Only liked women using him and never could seem to get into a master using him. When we used him to stud one of our female slaves for breeding purposes, he had no trouble at all pumping a huge load into the brood, you'll remember. Everytime we used him, he went along with it, but you'll remember he seldom got hard unless we deliberately fondled him to an erection, and even that took a long time. I bet that new mistress of his is totally satisfied and he has no trouble at all getting it up for her and," he paused with a sigh, "pumps a huge load into her each and every time. My guess is he's a real stud with a women using him."

"We were lucky to get rid of him," Charles agreed. "And at such a price, too! But I was really surprised a Holgate slave was so limited. You would think a Holgate slave would have received complete training before they were given away as party prizes."

"You'd think," Dallas chuckled. "But I guess training can only do so much. He was always cooperative, never refused any order, and tried his best. But I suppose you can't completely overcome nature in every case. That blond stud was just born that way and the whips and prods and all the other stuff just brought about compliance, not genuine enthusiasm for the task at hand - namely, really getting into it with a master's demands. Now, Romulus, that's something else. My guess is, if he were free, the only difference would be he'd be fucking a male slave of his own instead of the other way around."

"That's evident. Look how he's always sniffing around that Egyptian slave trying to get our permission to stick his dick up that boy's ass, claiming it's for our amusement all the time," Charles laughed.

By this time, Dallas and Charles were only with the other guests and not a slave was in sight. For most of this crowd, the absence of slaves made them nervous somehow and they began to look around for some sign of the usual Holgate hospitality.

They didn't have long to wait. As soon as this bunch of guests were within 10 feet of the entry door to the mansion, the door burst open as if by magic and inside, the guests could see a re-creation of Medieval Venice, complete with costumed and naked attendant slaves everywhere, sedan chairs, street vendors, open slave markets, naked acrobats, and even street- side pastry shops. All the Venetian slaves presented were of the usual Holgate quality: handsome to a fault; muscular with well defined bodies devoid of hair below the neck, a willing and inviting smile on their faces, and extraordinarily well hung. The few slaves clothed for the occasion wore only a few garments which only added to their sexuality in that they heightened rather than hid the slave's bodily assets. Almost all the slaves featured genitals bands, ear and tit rings, and shiny metal collars so tall they forced the slave's had into a permanently upright position. As was usual with Holgate slaves, all of them seemed to be perpetually erect, with most dripping in need.

After Charles and Dallas, along with the other arriving guests, savored the phantasmagorical sight for the first time, they discovered they weren't the first batch of guests to arrive - indeed they seemed to be the last from the huge number already there - at least 100, maybe more. Coming out of adjoining halls were guests returning from sites excited at witnessing, according to their animated jabber: an Arabian male harem filled with naked specimens the likes of which they had never seen, collected form all over the world and representing every shade of slave known to man; an Indian Temple filled with "religious devotees" - all eager extremely handsome young brown-skinned Indian males serving their God with wanton use of their bodies; and a Cathay palace filled with yellow-skinned Chinese male servants obviously carefully selected for their manly beauty and willingness to serve any desire a guest could come up with. In-between each of the special "themed" rooms were medieval style "slave markets" where a plentitude of gorgeous slaves were chained to display podiums stark naked in piquant poses and "sold" free to any guests wanting them for the evening. Slaves presented in the "markets" were totally body shaved or hairy, every color from jet black to albino white, every size from 5' to 7'6", and every look from brutally masculine to almost delicate. All they had in common was they were all definitely male - all were very heavy hung with large balls to match; all were definitely slaves - each was branded, collared and chained and bore a slave's look of willing subservience; and all were well trained - each thrust their large erect organs out provocatively with an inviting smile whenever any guests even gave them a glance. It was obvious David Holgate had outdone himself once again in lavish parties and this time around was simply thrusting all 650 of his highly select slaves onto his guests right from the beginning.

Overwhelmed with the onslaught of available male meat, the guests took their time in "buying" slaves from the open markets, fondling and pawing over the handsome chained bodies at their disposal. So much so that some of the holdings spewed off in the guests hands as they were vigorously fondled, often with such huge loads the guests were astonished that a slave's balls could hold that much cum in reserve. Such responses only heightened the guests' interest in the market holdings and, before long, all the slaves "up for sale" found their bodies being pawed, stroked, squeezed and fondled until the markets began smelling of hot cum, the body sweat of the slave's sexual excitement, and the floor beneath the chained slaves getting slick from their spewing. But the smells and sights only added to interest in "owning" at least one of the marketed slaves and before long, the chains were being undone as one after another of the slaves were being led away on leashes attached to their neck collars by a new "owner" - at least for the next hour or so when they would probably be returned and exchanged for yet another slave up on the sales podiums.

Charles didn't take long to pick out his first Holgate slave "to buy." It was a big brown slave with extreme musculature, a huge organ, and a beatific smile. Neither Charles or any other guest had milked this slave yet and the huge brown slave was dripping in need as Charles led him by a leash attached to his slave collar to a cushioned bench in a small alcove off the street obviously set up for use of the slaves. He then proceeded to whisk off his Venetian tunic and had the slave suck him before having him bend over the bench for a thorough fucking. Just as he was pumping his own discharge deep into the slave's ass, the brown slave beneath him shouted out he couldn't control himself any longer and shot a huge load into the cushion beneath him. When Charles lay exhausted on the slave's sweating back, the slave felt only relief - it had been weeks since he had been allowed to unload. Now a euphoria swept over his body as he felt his new master's still swollen prick wiggle around in his asschute.

"Thank you, master," the slave said sincerely as he tightened his ass muscles around his master's prick within him.

"We're not through yet, slave," Charles told the slave as he again began to pump his again swelling prick into the slave's ass. Fucking this slave had been so good he decided to try for a second time, although he knew it would take some time before he was ready to orgasm again. The slave beneath him, of course, had no say in the matter, but cooperated well enough by tightening and loosening his ass muscles to try to facilitate his master's pleasure in use of his body this second time around. Charles maintained a firm grip on the slave's leash (attached to his collar) so the slave's head was slightly drawn back as Charles fucked him, keeping the slave in constant muscular tension (which Charles favored) and certainly reminding the slave at all times during the fucking he was a slave there solely for his master's pleasure and that all attention should be paid to that activity regardless of what else was going on all around them.

There was plenty going on around them to distract one's attention. Practically every alcove provided was in use with the "just purchased" slaves sucking away, being fucked, fucking a master who was into that sort of pleasure, being milked by either a master's mouth or hand or simply being fondled over and beyond what they had experienced while chained to the sales podiums.

Directly across from Charles, a little fat Negro man, slave whip in hand, was directing two black slaves, one fucking the other. As he slashed across the one slave's rump, he shouted, "harder, slave. Stick it in all the way. That's right. Now pump in and out going in all the way each time."

"Yes, master," the slave plummeting in and out of the other slave answered promptly, gasping for breath with each stroke.

"And you, the black boy on the bottom, I want to hear you grunting on each stroke up your butt loud and clear. You hear me, slave?"

"Yes, master," the bottom slave choked out hoarsely as yet another stroke was delivered as far up his ass as possible.

A few minutes later, Charles glanced again at the alcove across from him. Now both black slaves were on their knees, one sucking the fat master's prick, the other his balls. Both of their bottoms were bright red from the slave whip, so obviously both had been required to fuck the other. The fat little master still held the slave whip firmly in his hand as the two slaves diligently tried to meet his demands. Charles wondered if the black master always picked black slaves for his pleasure because he was black himself or, like Dallas, simply preferred blacks for other reasons. He knew Dallas was really turned on by smooth black hides - just why he wasn't sure.

Charles glanced down to other alcoves in heavy use. One had a hairy white slave with one of the biggest pricks he had ever seen fucking his new " master" under strict instructions. Further down, another alcove had a hairless Asian slave sucking his master of the hour off.

Still another alcove had two slaves, one a body-shaved white and the other a body- shaved black, being milked by a master who was collecting their output into a silver chalice. Charles noted that as soon as they dutifully discharged, the master had first one and then the other suck him off while sipping their hot cum out of the silver chalice. Charles himself sort of lost interest in sex after a heavy discharge, but of course slaves had no choice in the matter - interest on their part was never considered, only instant response to demands. As soon as this master finished his snack of hot cum, he ordered his two slaves onto their backs with their legs over their shoulders and began fucking them - first one and then the other until he had discharged himself into both of them. Charles noted both slaves promptly and courteously thanked their new master for using them as his cum flowed out of their well used asses. No one could say Holgate slaves weren't well trained!

Dallas wasn't going to be tricked into getting drained by a bunch of auction slaves put on display just to tempt him away from the sights beyond. He gave the chained slaves on their podiums a cursory look, hefted a few balls as if to weigh them, and stroked a few more rampant pricks just so he could say he had looked them over. Then he headed for the room he had heard others describe as an Arabian harem. Inside that room, he squealed in delight. Wavering silk curtains of all colors lined the walls, the floor was a fine sand mixed with gold flakes here and there, the furniture was nothing more than silk-lined adjustable benches, complete with easily adjustable restraining straps, obviously put there for one reason and one reason only - fully enjoying the inmates of the harem. The harem boys fulfilled his wildest fantasy of what an Arabian harem of that period actually contained: every shade of slave in the world, all perfectly formed, all with perfect physiques, all with the most handsome faces he had ever seen, all heavily hung with the most perfect shaped organs he had ever seen, and all fully erect and dripping in heavy need with inviting smiles on their beautiful countenances. They seemed to range from 16 to 22 with nary a wrinkle, a wart, or even a mole. A few of the benches were already in use: on one, a black slave's carefully oiled body simply glowed as his body had been positioned face down, this one unusual in that his body was highlighted by a tiny white singlet around his genitals - a singlet that was being removed as Dallas watched a young white guest, no more than a teenager himself, prepare to fuck his prize right in front of everyone.

"I'm the King of Araby," the white teenager announced to nobody in particular as he plowed into the black ass at his ready disposal which quickly absorbed his sizable prick and began churning to heighten his user's pleasure. "Jesus Christ, I'm in heaven," the teenager screamed as he stopped pumping in and out of the slave and let the harem boy do all the work to bring him to orgasm. "Talk about training!" the young master added. "Did those sheiks back then really have it this good?" as he flipped the slave over on top of him and watched the black slave ride his pole up and down, clenching his ass appropriately with each stroke in and out.

"Yes, boy, they had it that good and probably better, if you can imagine," Dallas said as he watched the little scene in front of him. "They say the Roman Emperor Commodius had a male harem of over 300 slaves carefully picked from all over the Roman Empire. And one of the Ottoman Empire's sultans had over 500 male slaves in his own personal harem. Even David Holgate can't duplicate that, but I imagine this is equal to anything the Caliph of Bagdad or the Vizier of Morocco ever had."

Dallas looked around and was stunned at the beauty possible in the male body. David Holgate seemed to have collected the best available in today's world at least. Just looking at them made him so excited he was afraid he would shoot off prematurely. Accordingly, he guided a nearby harem boy to a available silk-covered bench. The boy was "White Irish" by his standards - a creamy white unblemished skin highlighted by thick black hair and eyebrows, long black eye-lashes, a day-old black beard on his beautifully chiseled face, and a light coating of fine black hair on his perfect muscular body. His genital hair had been carefully trimmed to show off his equipment which was hard and dripping.

"On my knees, back or stomach, beloved master?" the white slave asked softly with his eyes lowered demurely.

"On your stomach, handsome boy," Dallas responded, mesmerized by the slave's beauty and submissive demeanor.

The beautiful boy draped himself on the bench with his legs spread wide so his hole was fully exposed, his arms carefully placed under his head, and his face turned to one side so his user could take in his facial beauty as he fucked him. He raised his ass slightly in invitation as his hole literally winked in readiness, the lubricants around the rim of his hole glistening in the light.

Dallas whipped off his tunic, glad that he had foregone wearing any underwear, and without hesitation plunged into the harem slave's hole whereupon he was instantly engulfed with clinching ass muscles, a velvety anal lining, and deep sighs of appreciation at being used. As Dallas luxuriated in one of the best fucks he could ever recall, he reminisced on all the slaves he had fucked over the past few years: at least 150 different slaves, with many of them over and over and over, e.g., Romulus who he must have fucked over 2000 times by now, the sold-off blond Viking slave he had won in a lottery, but who he had fucked at least 500 times before selling him off; and the Egyptian slave he now owned who he fucked twice a day minimum just out of habit. Good as they all were, this ass underneath him right now was the best, bar none. What he would give to own this slave himself, instead of just fucking him now as a guest of David Holgate.

Dallas' use of the selected harem slave went on and on - he fucked him over and over as if he would never have another chance (he probably wouldn't) and, after using a few other harem slaves (a Circassian, a Nubian, a Brit, and an Afghan) for comparison (he found them all just as talented), went back to the Irish white for a final round before he was completely played out and there was no way, no matter how much the slaves tried, he could get an erection.

As he staggered out of the Arabian Harem room, his Venitian tunic clinging to his sweat soaked body, he ran into Charles.

"Jesus, what happened to you, Dallas? You look like you've been through a tornado!"

"The Arabian Harem," Dallas grunted. "I've never seen anything like it." With that, he fell into an empty alcove and went sound asleep the instant he settled on one of the benches.

Charles was a little apprehensive, not knowing whether Dallas had a positive or negative review before he became unconscious. He thought he better wait and get a valid report from someone before visiting the Arabian Harem. It may be a scene where David Holgate had gone to excess. So, for the time being, he decided to visit the Indian Temple room where, it was claimed, religion went totally sensual.

The claims were right on, as Charles quickly discovered. The "Temple" was beautifully decorated and filled with naked male "Priests," all the best of Indian manhood, who were uniformly beautiful, body shaved below the neck, sported nicely shaped very large circumcised sex organs, and festooned with thick gold rings around their necks, their upper arms, their wrists, their ankles, their genitals, their swollen nipples, their ears, and their nose. Each priest was exceedingly handsome, had deep black eyes, rich mahogany brown skin, and a well defined muscular physique. Moreover, they were, to a man, fully erect, seemed to all be in the bloom of early manhood (between 18 and 22 years of age) and let visitors to the temple know their duty was to bring full sensual pleasure to whoever chose them for a "religious experience."

Charles chose the very first priest that approached him: a 20-year-old trainee who had only been in the temple a few months. The prescribed ritual, suggested by the novice priest, was to start with a good sucking by the trainee, then use this wantabee priest for a good fucking with the trainee on all fours (Indian style, he called it), and finishing with Charles lying on his back reflecting on his fortune while the novice fucked him by lowering his ass up and down on Charles's prick while the novice repeated various mantras appropriate for the ceremony. The prescription was exactly what Charles had in mind with the superlatively handsome Indian youth and, when the "ceremony" was finished (with two loads of Charles' cum up his priest's ass and another in his belly), both Charles and the novice priest seemed to be totally satisfied with the religious observance. It was a religion everyone of a certain bent could buy into, and Charles wondered if he could convert that very evening.

All around him, other priests were performing their religion on other of the Holgate guests and, judging from all the gasps and groans emanating from the Temple, a certain sacred aura mixed in with the smell of sex sweat, hot cum, and ass lubricants - the "incense" of this particular religion. All participants seemed caught up in the pure eroticism of the religion and the chanting of the sacred mantas by the priests as they literally extracted load after load of the cum they called "life essence" from the temple guests cast a new and exciting aspect to contemporary religious practices.

Like Dallas before him, Charles emerged from the Indian Temple so exhausted he too fell into the alcove where Dallas was still sleeping and more or less passed out, but others would call it a deep sleep of exhaustion.

Several hours later, the two awoke simultaneously and both were delighted they hadn't slept the whole party away. To the contrary, the party just seemed to be reaching its height. Slaves from the auction block were still widely available and being "bought" right and left as guest after guest took advantage of all the beautiful flesh available to them with a mere bid on their part. Guests were still staggering out of the Arabian Harem, as exhausted as Dallas had been as well as the Indian Temple, but an equal number were just beginning to explore the wonders contained in both special venues. Both Dallas and Charles marveled at the durability of the slaves assigned to these special rooms and couldn't conceive of the type of training necessary to achieve that durability. [What they didn't know was that David Holgate rotated his slaves in each room on an hourly basis so the slave stock was always "fresh and ready." Such was the advantage of having huge hordes of slaves at his disposal.]

"We still haven't seen the Cathay Palace slaves," Dallas said to Charles now that both were at least partially awake and again, presumably, capable of sexual response given a talented slave was let loose on them.

"We better take it in while it's still open," Charles responded. "It would be a shame to not see what else David Holgate has come up with, although I don't see how he could outdo that Indian Temple scene."

"Nor the Arabian Harem that almost did me in," Dallas laughed.

But both left the alcove, walked past the Slave Market where yet another fresh batch of fantastically handsome chained slaves were flaunting their goodies up on the podiums, and headed for the third special room neither of them had visited yet within the Holgate mansion.

What they entered was a palace of marble and the finest silks, spraying fountains of scented waters, and living statues of the finest male slave flesh either of them had ever seen. Each slave was posed as a statue, totally naked with his body fully shaved (even his head save a long black que flowing down his back), showing off a magnificent physique, perfect skin, superlative sex organs (fully shaved and circumcised of course), black slanted eyes, and a creamy yellow-tinged skin that bespoke their full Chinese origin.

"Pick out any living statues you please," a man in full Mandarin dress directed as we entered. "Each is fully trained to bring you the highest level of pleasure possible. There are rooms in back of the water fountains for your full enjoyment and upmost privacy," he added with a florish of his right hand, pointing to the space just beyond the splendiferous water fountains.

Dallas and Charles followed the directions and each picked out a "statue" that turned them on. Dallas picked a 6' boy of about 18 with huge pectorals, succulent tits, and a tiny waist; Charles selected a shorter boy who was even more muscular but had his balls removed, apparently long after puberty judging from his totally masculine body and his huge shaft.

"Ah! Excellent choices, masters," the Mandarin seemed delighted as he again pointed to the rooms in back of the water fountains. "A youth practically virginal - he's only been in the Palace a few weeks having been bought from his impoverished father - and a newly made eunuch who lost his manhood only two months ago. The ancient Chinese sacred sayings all claim there is nothing better than a recently virginal boy and a eunuch - especially when it comes to fucking. But, if you wish, masters, even the eunuch can fuck you if you wish - a eunuch can still elicit a good erection for months after the cut. And the young boy so fresh from his father's farm is as tight as the day we first bought him."

"I've always wanted to fuck a eunuch for some reason," Charles said excitedly as he led his handsome slave by a leash to the slave's nose ring beyond the fountains to the designated usage rooms.

"And I've always wanted to fuck a good looking Chinaman for some reason," Dallas said, equally excited by the prospects of using the slave he was towing by a collar leash to the designated rooms.

An hour later, Dallas and Charles emerged out to the water fountains at about the same time. The "living statues" they had selected were already back on their stands in the palace's display room, having quickly cleaned their bodies inside and out and returning to their display stands while their "masters" were slowly putting their Venitian tunics back on and recovering their spent energy.

"My God," Charles exclaimed above the roar of the water fountains. "They're right - nothing offers up a better fuck than a God-damned eunuch. They claim it's because their only way to get any sexual pleasure is taking a good fucking and therefore they put their heart and soul into it. But, for whatever reason, that half-man drained me dry, let me tell you. Wouldn't mind owning a eunuch for the house, you know, Dallas?"

"Maybe we should have the Egyptian cut?" Dallas laughed. "We seldom let him get off anyway and it would stop him dripping all over the place.."

"And how was your living statue, Dallas?" Charles asked as he rearranged his flimsy tunic.

"Charles, I swear that boy had never been fucked he was so tight. But once I was in him, I've never seen a slave so take to being fucked as that one. He absolutely went bananas once I started pounding his butt. I'm surprised you didn't hear all his screams of joy and yells of ecstasy. Talk about enjoying being fucked - the best thing his dad ever did was sell him off to the Palace. All that yelling and hollering really got me hot and bothered. I bet I shot a full quart of cum up that young boy's butt. He'd be leaking for a month if he didn't flush it out as soon as I was finished. I suppose he's got to get himself ready for the next Palace visitor. Jesus, I wonder how many visitors he entertains in a day's time - he won't be so damn tight all that long at the rate he's going."

"Ready to leave, Dallas? I'm pooped," Charles announced.

"Me too, Charles," Dallas said and both of them left the Palace promptly, never ever bothering to look at all the other living statues available for use.

"Many years of happiness for those who drain their balls daily," the Mandarin said in his sing-song fashion as the two passed by him. "It's an old Chinese proverb."

"And what about the slaves making all that draining possible?" Charles shot back.

"A slave who brings happiness to his masters earns his place in heaven," the Mandarin shot back. "Another old Chinese proverb that any slave here will vouch to as to its eternal truth."

With that, the two masters left and wandered back to the main hall. But, by then, the party was obviously over. Just a few lingerers stood around and many of the slaves had been returned to their maintenance centers for the complete cleansing that followed any party like this. Neither Charles nor Dallas had even seen their host, David Holgate. Based on his dramatic entrances to his other parties, his absence seemed strange indeed.

Looking at each other, Dallas and Charles just nodded in answering the unsaid question: Was it time to go? They were totally drained, totally exhausted, and felt like they could never get it up again, let alone fuck a slave. They both now knew what the word satiation meant. With that nod, they left the main door, got back on the Venitian galley taking them to the other side where even looking down at the sweating galley slaves didn't get a rise out of them. The waiters tried their best to be of service, even rubbing their hard pricks up against them, but all the two guests wanted was a cold drink minus any offered cum sauce.

When they landed on the other side, they went home immediately, threw their sweaty, cum-stained Venitian tunic in the waste basket and sunk into bed and a deep, deep sleep. The next morning, neither Romulus nor the Egyptian slave could get them to respond, even when they tried sucking their flaccid organs. Eventually, they gave up and went to their cleaning chores, leaving their two masters to rest up the remainder of the day. Each master slept 18 hours non-stop as it turned out and the Egyptian slave was about to burst his balls, not used to going that long without being drained by one or the other of his masters. Finally, Romulus took pity on him and fucked him until both the slaves emptied their balls. Romulus just hoped they wouldn't be punished for doing so without their master's permission, but, on the other hand, when had the masters left their slaves unattended for that long?

THE VOLUPTUARY

by Bill Smith

Chapter 21 (Final)

NOTHING LASTS FOREVER

David Holgate's invisibility at the last party was indeed a mystery. Usually he wanted to be center stage at the events. Had he become bored with excess? Was pushing his human properties to greater and greater exploits becoming blase? Did he feel his guests no longer appreciated him?

Perhaps he had been ill. No one had seen his best friend Claude DuPree either which only added to the mystery, unless, of course, poor David was sick and Claude felt obligated to look after him. There was endless speculation throughout the week following the party concerning the absence since no one had seen David Holgate since then either.

After 10 days, the mystery deepened. First, the largest slave transits were seen loading up stock from the mansion's elaborate caging system. It took six double decker cage trucks to move all of them out: 110 packed into the two levels of each truck. Even stranger, all of the transit trucks were the ubiquitous khaki color of U.S. Army slave haulers and were driven by the ugly unkempt draft slaves owned by the Army for the grunt work. Next, a sign appeared at the outer gate of the Holgate property: "Property of U.S. Government" with nary a soul to be seen on the vast grounds of the estate, not even the lawn slaves that usually toiled away a good 15 hours of each day mowing, weeding, tending the flowers, fertilizing with processed slave shit, and watering as necessary to maintain that pristine look David Holgate always insisted on. At night, not a light could be seen in any window. All that could be seen were a few Army guards patrolling around all the entrances and a few Army slaves that usually accompanied such patrols - there solely to take care of feeding the soldiers throughout the day as well as service them sexually when the patrols took a break - one of the many perks available in the modern day Army.

Seeing all those prime slaves being carted off to God knows where made the entire town speculate as to: (1) could they perhaps buy one or two for their own use if the price wasn't outrageous? (2) what about David Holgate's fabled wealth? (3) what had happened to the famous Voluputary himself? (4) had David Holgate died somehow? and (5) why in the hell was the federal government involved in all of this?

Slowly, over the coming weeks, rumors turned into hard facts. David Holgate III, it seemed, had obtained most of his fabulous slaves from Anti-American insurgent organizations in exchange for providing them much needed modern armament, including the latest guided missiles, tank-piecing shells, and the latest scopes for night fighting. Little cash had changed hands - he provided the latest military technology they wanted; they provided him with the best slaves to be had.

Where had these organizations obtained all the slaves they bartered off so readily?

1. Many of the slaves exchanged had been captured and then carefully

trained to their new life within the organizations, a practice following age-old

traditions and one in which they exhibited great knowledge and skill.

1. Others had been sold to them by third world countries for "protection"

from starting an insurgency within their own country since such countries could

ill afford an army of their own. Many of the slaves "harvested" in this fashion

by their own governments had been scooped up over the countryside as a form

of taxation, a practice first formulated by the harvest of Circassian slaves by the

Ottoman Empire. With the large families typical within these third world

nations, giving up your best looking son or daughter at the age of 16 to the

government "slave harvesters" was considerably simpler than having a heavy

tax placed on your land or income.

1. A considerable number of slaves had been sold to them for a pittance by

war impoverished parents starving to death and willing to sell off a handsome

son or daughter for enough money to feed the rest of the family - a sacrificial

lamb necessary for survival.

1. A large number of slaves available to them were products of their own

slave breeding operations wisely set up decades ago as a means of producing

endless cash for their operations and which now produced some of the finest

specimens in the world, the products having benefitted from generations of

selective breeding toward a quality product.

1. A sizeable number of slaves were "given" to them by governments as

part of open trade agreements, especially in the sale and distribution of opiates

in the Middle East, oil distribution rights, oil pipeline agreements, refinery

franchises, and shipping and airlines charters. Most of the slaves obtained as

friendly government commercial bribes had been carefully selected from slave

markets all over the world, picked for their potential in instantly delighting

whoever they were given to.

David Holgate, over the years, had demanded and got the very best of these lots, regardless of their original sourcing. Those not trained to his complete satisfaction quickly were: he had excellent trainers among his slave holdings. And the best among his slaves, from the very beginning of his collection, were quickly put to work producing the next generation - the Holgate breeding operations were world renown for their output and quality. It was eventually revealed that only half of his stock had actually been obtained through barter of military arsenals; the other half had been born right in his own breeding barns. Therefore, the legal question arose: could domestically bred slaves, never actually sold, be considered as properly seized, since that property actually hadn't been subject to any bartering conditions for anti-American and/or terrorist purposes? But then again, neither had his house and it obviously had been seized along with all his stock.

It didn't take long for a lower federal court to decide the issue: everything David Holgate owned was subject to a "fine" for breaking federal law. The goods seized didn't have to be proven to have been bartered or bought in exchange for supplied munitions materiel. There was no difference, of course, between his properties as to whether they were human slaves, donkeys, or bricks and mortar. All properties were subject to seizure regardless of what type of property; how that property was obtained; or what it was used for. The matter was settled once and for all and began an important foundation for future federal court decisions, thereafter known as "U.S. Government vs. Holgate."

As to the disposition of the Holgate slaves? Many were shipped off to an estate in Maryland owned and operated by the State Department where they were caged before being given to various foreign diplomats as "bribes" promoting U.S. commercial interests in other countries. Consequently, Holgate-branded slaves can now be found in the palaces of Algerian government officials; within the ministries of Brazil; in the Army brothels of Thailand; on the docks of government ports in Ghana, the Cameroons, and Gambia: within the Kremlin; and practically every foreign embassy in the United States boasts of at least one or two Holgate- branded slaves, usually serving the meals, cleaning the place, and sexually servicing the staff. Some serve as smart-looking chauffeurs for foreign heads of state, while others are serving as the handsome aide-de-camps of foreign generals and admirals all over the world. All gifts of the U.S. government!

Others ended up in the mansions of our own government officials, mainly those in very high places where no questions are asked as to how they got them or what they actually are required to do. Blair House has its supply as does the White House, the Treasury, and Defense Department to name a few. Slave gossip has it that those Holgate slaves were worked so hard they wore out early and they weren't talking about manual labor either, unless you consider getting fucked around the clock manual labor.

The U.S. Army got its share, having been made responsible for the original seizure of the Holgate properties. Most not stationed in four-star generals' private quarters are in Army brothels where every U.S. serviceman has an equal opportunity of using their bodies for some well deserved "R&R." Of course, as you know, the Army brothels, free and well-stocked, have practically solved the chronic recruitment problems of the past. It's said that every U.S. Army brothel, all over the world, now features at least one Holgate slave. They have proved so popular, the Army has been forced to issue a lottery for their use among the troops, but like all other lotteries, it has proven to be motivational, if nothing else, and is certainly an example of democracy in action. When a raw recruit was asked recently on national television why he had signed up for a six-year hitch, his answer spoke for thousands and thousands of others: "Why, I'm granted a fair and equal chance to any slave in the Army's brothels, even the prize specimens. That's democracy if I ever heard of it, and that, my friend, is what we real Americans are fighting for - equal opportunity. Don't you agree? Hell, I even got an hour with one of those Holgate slaves the Army is just getting a few of. Name any other country in the world where a simple little farm boy from South Dakota like myself has opportunities like that? " Well, as the television interviewer pointed out, how can you argue with logic like that, as he too waved a little American flag in view of the camera lenses.

The few Holgate slaves left over went to public slave markets in an effort to recoup the court costs involved in the case. Free enterprise reigned and the Holgate brand brought some of the highest prices the markets had ever witnessed. So high, in fact, that you had to be a millionaire, it turned out, to even get in the bidding, let alone win a bid. A few C.E.O.'s of large corporations made successful bids, a few of those lucky enough to have inherited billions, and a few of Hollywood's top movie stars and a few of the major league athletes got a "Holgate" as these slaves came to be known. But that was it. Again, supply and demand ruled the day and the supply just wasn't there after everyone else had siphoned off the original holding. Even the few score sold brought in enough to easily cover all the court costs with plenty left over for all the lawyers that managed to get involved in the case one way or another.

The Holgate breeding operations were shut down, of course, when all the breeding stock was sold off, but the breeding barns themselves were still intact and were available at public auction. Those barns were snapped up by a Saudi oil corporation already diversifying into that enterprise and interested in setting up an American branch geared toward the American market. The idea in back of it was, once the breeding barns were back in full production after the necessary time for a slave to go from pup to market age, to sell them through their gasoline stations already located throughout the United States, thereby eliminating the costs of new showrooms, franchises, middlemen, etc. They even had plans to sell their output on the installment plan with no interest as long as you bought your gasoline exclusively from their stations. Wall Street pundits agreed it was a sound business plan if they had ever heard of one and clamored to buy stock in the Saudi company, but alas, the company was privately held and all the money would go right back to the home country, just like all that gasoline money. At any rate, once again the "breeding benches" in the barns were in heavy use and a full coterie of carefully selected studs and broods once again trudged back and forth to the rutting sheds as scheduled. Within a year, a visitor couldn't tell the difference when David Holgate ran the operation and when the Saudi corporation ran it - even the sounds of the whips on the stud's rumps sounded the same and, as usual, a visitor simply didn't see very many female slaves that weren't visibly pregnant. Full production was the goal and full production was obtained - no problem if you knew what you were doing in this enterprise.

Dallas and Charles, who always hoped to again own a Holgate slave (they had sold off the white blond they had won in a party lottery), would never have that opportunity again. They would simply have to live their life as before, staffing their house with slaves from the local markets, but the Voluptuary's parties would be a treasured lifetime memory of which parts could be re-enacted with local slave purchases (and economical rentals) from time to time as personal finances allowed. As time went on, their fortune did increase somewhat, allowing them to keep the still eager Romulus and the do-anything Egyptian and adding a fresh new blond slave imported from Romania, a rather hairy but very sexy specimen from Bulgaria (who they got dirt cheap due to an oversupply of slaves from that region) and, still later, a highly trained brown slave from Samoa who was astonishingly handsome and very well equipped. All three new additions didn't seem to mind being bedded down by a male owner. Dallas claimed they were naturally bent that way judging by their enthusiasm in his bed; Charles thought they were just well trained.

"After all, Dallas, being allowed any sex, regardless of type, is a treat for a slave these days, so why shouldn't they be great in bed?"

"That's true, Charles, but still you can kind of tell by a certain hesitancy sometimes when they're true-blue heterosexuals, no matter how good the training they've had. Remember that blond boy we called "Viking" we sold off to the mistress? That little look in his eye every time you screwed him or had him suck you off? That's what I'm talking about. You don't see anything like that in these new purchases. They're as eager as you could want when you poke it up their butt or down their throat. You can't fake that sort of enthusiasm."

"Whatever, Dallas," Charles chortled. "Who cares, as long as they're totally satisfying in bed?

"That's the bottom line. And that is, of course, what we bought them for, isn't it?"

"I can't complain so far, Dallas, I admit. You claim it's nature; I claim it's proper training? Who cares? Either way, they know we'll sell them off the minute they don't offer us the best sex we've ever had," Charles laughed. "I'm sure Romulus has told them a hundred times how we sold off the Viking blond."

"Embellishing it each time he tells the tale, I'm sure," Dallas chuckled.

"While we're chatting about the new additions," Charles replied, " which one do you like the best? Me, I'm rather enchanted with the South Seas stud - always eager and hung like a damn horse."

"For some reason I can't explain, I like the Bulgarian best. I know he didn't cost us much, but - I don't know - maybe I like the fact we never body shaved him. Running my fingers through all his hair just adds to the excitement when I use him, and Charles, he isn't exactly lacking when it comes to big sex organs himself. How big is that thing when he's at full mast and dripping? At least six inches around and a good foot long, I'd wager, although I've never actually measured him. The dealer we bought him from gave me the statistics when we bought him, but I've forgotten. But I do like the look of a slave that says all man,' no doubt about it."

"Yeah, I like that hair on him too, but we both seem to like the Romanian enough to each fuck him at least twice a day. He's so damn clean looking you just can't resist," Dallas added. "Me, I like to throat fuck that little mouth of his; you, I notice, like to take his ass which is about as tight as his mouth and throat. He's refreshingly different, that's for sure."

"He's so eager to please a master, he doesn't care where you poke him. You could fuck his ear and he'd never bat an eyelash he's so well trained. Are all Romanian slaves trained to that level or did we just luck out?"

"The dealers claim they're all trained to that level - part of the national heritage they claim. After all, they've been training slaves since the time of the Romans. That's where they got their name afterall and even the Romans liked them as slaves. God knows, they certainly had their choice of any and everything."

The Holgate mansion was never actually sold to a private individual. The C.I.A. became the successful bidder, interested in its hard-to-reach location (you had to cross a small river to get to it), its technologically advanced on-call caging system for 650 bodies, the multitude of rooms and open spaces for staff interrogations, bodily torture, and "re-training" exercises for those coming into their jurisdiction, as well as the ease in keeping the curious (including the press) out. Guantanamo Bay was ceded back to the Cubans and the Holgate manion became their new holding grounds for "persons of suspicion" now that the fiction the Bay had been part of the U.S. (but wasn't) was dispelled by the courts. The mansion, with its facilities for 650 to be tortured into confessions that could be staged around the world, was perfect for their needs and was quickly filled to capacity, eliminating the need for "secret prisons" leased from friendly foreign governments willing to close their eyes to what was going on in those facilities. What went on within those walls was little different than before when recalcitrant slaves were molded by highly skilled trainers into exactly what was wanted by David Holgate at the moment.

The big question, of course, was what ever happened to the Voluptuary himself, David Halcomb Holgate III. No one had ever seen him since long before his last party. Nor had they seen his friend, Claude Dupree, whose properties had been confiscated (for unspecified reasons) along with David Holgate's. The assumption was that Claude Dupree had been in on the dirty dealings along with his close friend, David, but no case had ever gone to court to support that notion.

Years later:

Claude Dupree was spotted in Paraguay by an American businessman out on a slave buying expedition for the New York markets. He claimed, with little proof, photographic or otherwise, that Mr. Dupree was a small time slave dealer in Asuncion specializing in black slaves primarily imported from Brazil. He also claimed the man, now seriously aging, lived modestly with only a single slave he kept for himself and that was a practically worthless old Indian who was over the hill, much like himself. As a Paraguayan, he was outside U.S. jurisdiction and had escaped criminal indictment (but why he would be subject o U.S. criminal indictment was never revealed by the businessman's statement.) The businessman added that Mr. Dupree was in such apparent ill health that he couldn't possibly live much beyond another year or so whereupon he speculated the ancient old Indian slave would simply run back into the jungle once he found the key to his collar and shackles in his dead master's clothing.

Upon reading the newspaper account of the businessman's visit with Claude Dupree, both Charles and Dallas felt sorry for the old man if what they read was even half true. They thought of the handsome stock he always surrounded himself with, always totally naked, always super subservient, and all eager to share their body with anyone their master designated. They remembered it was through his machinations they had been exposed to the famous Aztec,' the Greek,' and numerous other exceptional beauties with collars around their necks. It was he who had manipulated David Holgate into loaning him the famous Driver' along with the Maybach limousine custom upholstered in slave hide for a ride to his home, and a full evening with the Maybach's sexy chauffeur ( Driver') stripped to the buff prancing around eager to fulfill his every desire. It was he who stayed at the Holgate mansion after every party in a private suite staffed with the very best of the Holgate sex slaves. To go from having all that at your disposal and end up down in South America pawning off rough blacks to the denizens of Asuncion while having only one decrepit old slave to warm your bed was pitiful. It showed what could happen to anyone if your own government turns against you.

The New York Times finally solved the David Holgate question. Filing a "Freedom of Information" request, they finally, after several trips to the courts, found out in a top secret government document (now very dated and no longer considered important), that David Holgate himself had been arrested for treason under the National Security Act. The government did not want to admit publicly that they had been totally unaware of David Holgate's business activities for over 15 years, that their ignorance had led to serious national security concerns, and that David Holgate was a frequent visitor to the White House in his heyday commensurate with his credentials as a heavy donator to the President's campaign funding. All that was too embarrassing to risk any sort of court hearing, let alone a trial. Therefore, the C.I.A. had whisked him off to the obscure slave market of Dar Es Salaam where he was sold at a modest price to an even more obscure African prince of an impoverished country of Central Africa. In heavy chains, he soon found himself in Bossangoa in the Central African Republic. His owner hated Americans and enjoyed fucking the newly enslaved man who, he had been told, once owned hundreds of slaves himself. But he'd certainly had better trained slaves in his bed by a long shot and the new purchase was a little long in the tooth for his tastes on second thought. Still, he hadn't cost much at the market in Dar Es Salaam and the prince thought he could turn a nice profit by selling him off.

The problem was, everyone in Bossangoa was so poor they were selling themselves into slavery just to eat, let alone have the money to own a slave themselves. One night he thought he might enjoy showing off his relative wealth by displaying the nude and relatively rare white slave on a genital leash while out strolling in what was labeled the business district' in Bossangoa. Even in this simple task, the white slave was clumsy to the point of proving to be an embarrassment - he didn't heel properly like a well trained slave and ended up being jerked by his balls half the time. Furthermore, he shivered and shuddered when those on the streets fondled his body, and actually cried out when some teen age boy thrust his finger far up the slave's asshole. Just at that time, the prince found himself right outside the door of the local brothel - probably the only business in town that prospered. The whoremonger there, a huge black man, came out to see what the commotion was all about and seeing the white slave leashed by his balls, saw a unique opportunity. First, he was short of male whores - always as popular, if not more so, than the females he had in stock. Second, he had no white whores on hand, male or female, and he knew the novelty alone would guarantee a steady booking for the slave, still wiggling around as the teenage boy pumped his finger in and out of the slave's hole in what the locals called a "hand fucking" although the translation doesn't quite catch the true meaning.

"Is his highness interested in selling the boy?" the brothel owner inquired. "I could offer a decent price, although I know, your majesty, money is no importance to one of your standing. But the slave seems troublesome and somewhat untrained, if I dare risk commenting on the matter. Perhaps you have grown wearisome from the trials and tribulations an unseasoned slave can put a good master through, sire."

The prince's dark eyes narrowed and he retorted. "A white boy in your offerings would be a popular novelty, I'm sure. And could prove, if properly managed, to be quite profitable, once he was broken and fully trained to his new life. I might consider parting with the slave if the price wasn't an insult to my personage. But I've had him in my bed and, for a white, he shows promise although still unschooled and amateurish in meeting the normal expectations of an owner's property, surprising in view of the slave's age. "

"Prince," the brothel owner smiled, "I'm pleased you share my own opinion of the white man's sexual abilities compared to we blacks, but, let me assure you, they can be trained to a satisfactory level if one isn't afraid of the whip. I myself find the slave whips made out of elephant hide bring the best results in reshaping a boy's attitude toward his assigned tasks."

"An interesting observation," the Prince replied. "But doesn't it scar the property badly?"

"Customers seldom notice the scars on the soles of a slave's feet, your highness, nor on the back of his knees. Both places are quite tender and the whip there produces intolerable pain in short order. Properly used in those areas, a slave agrees to do anything - anything - to escape a future beating."

"I always thought staking an uncooperative slave out in the desert where the fire ants can gnaw at his prick and balls was a good technique, but I'll store away your new knowledge concerning proper slave management," the Prince replied with an engaging smile toward the dealer. "How much are you offering me for this slave? He's relatively unused up his hole at least, as you can probably ascertain from all that wiggling around at a mere finger or so up his butt, although, I must warn you, his prick seemed to have had a lot of use over the years and his balls don't produce the full load you expect of a slave these days."

"May I?" the whoremonger asked, indicating he wanted to fully examine the slave before him.

"Of course," the Prince replied.

After the most thorough examination even David Holgate could imagine, the whoremonger announced his findings.

"The slave is, as you say, still tight in his asshole. And, Prince, as you so astutely observed, his prick and balls are very well used - so used, in fact, I doubt if he can reach a truly full erection anymore, especially hung as heavy as he is, and those balls feel like they're pretty well worn out. Obviously, the slave has been used as a stud far too long and his days are pretty well over in that area. But, Prince, I don't plan to stud him much, or use him to produce the stud milk so popular as an aphrodisiac drink around here among most of our men. I simply want him in the brothel so our locals can have a chance to fuck a white man whenever they want at a modest cost or have a white man on his knees before them sucking them off. That he can do for years yet, and since he's the only white slave I've seen available for years, I'll not offend your sensibilities by offering a modest price, despite the slave's many deficiencies. Ten cows and five goats, your highness. It's an outlandish price, I know, Prince, but I really want a white slave to offer my customers and, at the present time, you have a monopoly on white male slaves."

"He's yours," the Prince responded, handing the genital leash to the whoremonger. "I agree that our good citizens should have an opportunity to fuck a white man while one is available. As you say, he'll need a lot of rigorous training before most will find him satisfactory, but I leave that part in your experienced hands. Tell me, will he be the only male available in your useful establishment?"

"Hardly," the whoremonger broke into laughter. "Prince, we have many, many more males than females in our stable. African men feel more powerful when they fuck a man and, besides, their wives surfeit them with what a female has to offer. I'd be out of business if I depended on the demand for female whores. Here, your highness, if you wouldn't be offended, let me show you around our modest enterprise and you can see for yourself."

The Prince was curious and quickly followed the whoremonger into the brothel. Inside, privacy was not a factor. There were open cribs on either side of the large room and in each crib was a handsome black male slave with a very large erect prick in all his glory chained by the collar around his neck to the wall in back of him. All were standing up with their hands in back of their necks and their muscular legs wide spread so the customers could see all aspects of their powerful physiques and handle their sex easily. Of the dozen available in the small brothel, they ranged from jet black to a dark brown, all were well built and heavy hung, and all were certainly handsome by local standards. All their bodies were shiny and hairless, including any hair around their sex, so they obviously shaved themseelves at least daily and applied oil to their bodies periodically so that they literally glowed. They ranged in size from small (about 5"4" at the smallest) to large (about 6"4" at the largest). All had good teeth, bright eyes, and looked healthy and disease free.

"Judging from the collars and chains, they're all slaves?" the Prince inquired.

"Yes, highness. Although some free men choose this profession, they are much more expensive - too rich for this poor town. Slaves are the obvious solution."

"And the women you offer? Where are they?" the Prince inquired.

"I keep them in the cribs outdoors. They frequently smell what with their monthly curse and my customers usually can't stand to use them unless they are out of doors in the fresh air. The men slaves, on the other hand, are wont to keep themselves clean at every opportunity and douche out after every use along with twice a day full body baths.

"Do you fix your women to prevent pregnancy from their customers, or do you just sell off their git for a little extra profit?"

"Alas, the women here are usually pregnant within a month or two of heavy use and then I wait all those months for them to be profitable again. Selling a slave pup brings little to my pocket in that they are so plentiful in the markets and who can afford to feed them until they bring a decent price for their bodies? Frankly, just between us, your Highness, I'm thinking of closing out the women side of the business entirely and buying some more male slaves who aren't encumbered with monthly cycles, a sloven uncleanliness, and swollen bellies. It will prove much more profitable in the long haul, my customers certainly won't object much, and the place will undoubtedly smell a lot better. I'm thinking of expanding to some very young studs who could serve as milkers - the customer could milk them himself straight from the source. The witch doctors are all recommending a young stud's cream for whatever aids you over and above its aphrodisiac qualities. Western medicine, I understand, now claims it extends your youthfulness if you drink enough of it. But, Prince, those same non-believers claim you have to drink three full cups a day to get the benefit - who could afford that? You've have to have five or six studs at your disposal to harvest that much every day. These boys here couldn't produce that much cum between all of them, but, of course, I didn't buy them solely for how much cum they can produce - I chose them from the market for other qualities as well."

"I think I'll forego seeing the stinking females," the Prince laughed, "after hearing they must be kept out of doors to tolerate. "And there's no need to finger your offerings in this room. I've got a few slaves at home equal or better than these and I prefer to find my pleasure in private. I'm sure you can understand."

"Of course, your Highness. I'll have the cows and goats delivered to your palace before the sun sets."

With that, the fate of David Halcomb Holgate III was settled. He joined the other slaves chained to the crib walls where he was quickly taught with the elephant hide whip to display himself with his hands in back of his neck, his legs wide apart, and with his fully shaved body thrust forward for easy handling by the customers. Despite the fact he didn't understand a word anyone said in the local dialect, he nevertheless learned from the other crib slaves his food depended on the number of customers he serviced to their complete satisfaction and the minute he experienced true hunger for the first time, he rapidly changed his behavior to meet the customer's every expectation and then some. At first, despite his clumsiness in these matters relative to the other slaves in the brothel, his novel skin color proved an advantage and by the time the novelty was gone, he had learned enough skills from the others owned by the whoremonger to earn his keep well enough.

David Holgate lived to the ripe old age of 44, very old for a common crib slave, but even when he died of a heart attack/strangulation after a particularly rough throat fuck by a young black teenager out for a thrill who had an abnormally thick prick, he still retained reasonable good looks, a sound, but not spectacular good physique, and a willing enough attitude toward his new profession. Over the years, once he learned the local language, he regaled the other crib slaves with his stories about the mansion, his 650 slaves, and his famous parties. They, of course, didn't believe a word of it, but enjoyed his story telling anyway in that it broke the monotony of constant sexual usage by anyone able to pay the small fee to enjoy their bodies. The milk studs the brothel now featured didn't write his stories off completely however. He simply seemed to know too much about how much a male slave could produce if motivated properly. Their balls were always sore from the constant drainage and the white slave among them seemed to know something about this: he showed them how to massage their balls for greater output and less soreness and assured them they could be utilized as regular brothel slaves when they started to dry up, as, he predicted, they would by the time they were in their mid-20s. Sure enough, the ball massage he suggested did help and they did start to dry up just at the age he had originally stated. So it was little wonder the milk studs gave him due respect despite his white skin and Western origins.

David Holgate was replaced the very day he died in the brothel by a new purchase at the local slave market, in this case a handsome well hung local whose parents had sold him for the money he brought to feed the remaining children. But he didn't have the white skin or Western exoticness of the slave he replaced and never, despite his youthful appeal, brought in the money David had as a common crib whore.

By the time the New York Times story appeared, David Holgate had long been forgotten and the story was buried in the back pages. Still, it was an interesting tale and explained that huge mansion, now surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards, across the river in Holgate's original town.

David Holgate III would be happy to know that the quality of slaves available had steadily improved over the years, primarily due to the careful animal husbandry practiced at the breeding farms as well as the ever increasing availability of slaves worldwide as economic times deteriorated for the "have-nots" while the money supply increased dramatically for the "haves." Such a scenario bode well for the slave industry in future years and businessmen were wisely investing plenty of capital into the burgeoning industry.

But nobody to date had ever staged parties like The Voluptuary' had in his heyday and, as far as is known, no single American has ever since owned 650 prime slaves without a heavy mortgage on them. Hence, dead or alive, The Voluptuary' remained a legend, even though practically everyone, except Dallas and Charles (now aging themselves), had forgotten who David Holgate III ever was. If it wasn't for the nickname he had acquired for his famous parties, there would now be no memory of him at all. But Charles and Dallas remembered and savored the memory. It was a period of American history, they reflected, unlikely to ever occur again.

The two masters had lost most of their sexual interest in their own bevy of pleasure slaves, but still enjoyed watching them in action, especially after dinner as a viable substitute for watching the horrid TV reality shows. Romulus was now the house steward and thus freed from performing anymore himself. The Egyptian and the blond Holgate-branded slave they once owned had long ago been sold off, but the two masters always managed to have some fresh new slavemeat around for their nice bodies as well as their ability to meet their voyeurist urges. So far, unlike so many Americans these days, they had avoided buying slaves on credit or buying them just for conspicuous display. Everything they owned was actually theirs and theirs alone. Every slave they owned had plenty of chores they were required to do around the house and yard other than just look pretty and stay hard all the time, an economical standard for their masters and actually good for the slave stock in that each and everyone had a full and useful life that way. It was a comfortable life the two enjoyed to the fullest and when their time was over, they had few regrets.

AT LAST - THE END

[Now that this tale has ended, PLEASE let me know what you thought of it. I would also appreciate any ideas and suggestions you might have for future stories. If you liked this tale and would like to read others like it, you might investigate (on this same site): The Marketplace, Bates Training Center, The Brazilian, The Physician, Colonel Beddington, and many, many others (I can send you a complete listing and where to find them). Thank you for your response: Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com).]