Date: Tue, 16 Aug 2016 12:18:14 +0000 (UTC)
From: david smythe <mrdave64@yahoo.com>
Subject: Andrew's Fate Chapter 2

Andrew's story
CHAPTER 2

The man quickly leaves the building and, as the door slams shut I am, for
the second time, left alone with my thoughts. But now there is an added
dimension; the man had address me as a slave.  I don't know the length of
time that has elapsed since I was drugged into unconsciousness on the beach
in Italy. But the word he said was very clear and sent a shiver through my
body; slavery is illegal these days. I remember nothing after being jabbed
with the syringe in my thigh. My next recollection was waking up in the
back of the van tied up with ropes. And later I remember the other men, the
Arabs who had inspected my body and the transfer of the money. Why would
that happen.

I look into the cell opposite me. There, on his knees, is another boy of
about my age. Like me he is naked and has his head in his hands. He is
quietly sobbing. I speak quietly to him several times asking him his name,
what this place is and what is happening. After a while he looks up.

'Don't you know' he replies between his sniffles.  'This is a slave market.
We have been kidnapped and are in the hands of slave traders. We are to be
sold as slaves'.

'I don't understand' I reply. I thought we have been kidnapped for ransom'.

'Don't kid yourself. I thought that too but yesterday I was dragged before
the owner of this place. He is a fierce looking Arab man called Farook and
he made it quite clear that I have been taken as a slave and will soon to
be sold at auction to the highest bidder. When I protested he just laughed.
I was whipped until I would bow to him and crawl to kiss his feet. Were you
brought in a van that met with some Arabs on the road'?

'Yes' I reply.

'Well they are slave traders. They work for Farook. They paid the men who
kidnapped you. You see you have already been sold'.

The boy turns and faces me and what I see is beyond my belief. Around his
neck is a heavy iron collar. He has rings piercing his nose and nipples and
his cock is encased in a small steel cage. But what strikes me most is the
angry red mark on the front of his thigh and Arabic symbols tattooed on his
belly, just above his cock. He has not a single hair on his body.

'They did this to me four days ago' he says, I have been here a week, Now
do you believe me'?

I am speechless. How could this be possible these days. I can hardly
understand what the boy is telling me. He explains that he was out drinking
at a bar one night in Rimini. Had far too much to drink and was walking
home alone; it was easy for them to just bundle him into a car. Then a
needle went into his thigh. The story has a familiar ring to it. I ask him
his name and where he is from and discover he is David from a place called
Abingdon in England. He tells me that there are seven boys in the cells and
since he was brought here a new boy has arrived each day.

The walls of the cells are built of brick so it is impossible to see into
those next to mine. My only view of the interior of the building therefore
is through the iron grate at the front of my cell. It is obvious that there
are very many cells but I can only see into those nearly opposite to mine.
David tells me that there are ten cells on each side of the building but I
can see that only some of those are occupied.

My conversation with David is suddenly interrupted when the door at the end
of the building is opened.  I watch in amazement as David immediately
assumes a kneeling position at the front of his cell. He has his knees
spread wide, his hands behind his back, his chest pushed out, his belly
sucked in tight and his head bowed to his chest. Quickly he whispers to me
to kneel like him. I follow his lead but wonder why he should instantly
react in this way just at the opening of a door. In a few moments a boy
appears pulling a trolley and behind, him a man in full Arab dress, holding
a whip and what looks like a policeman's baton. The boy takes two bowls
from the trolley and pushes them under the bars of David's cell. He repeats
the process pushing two bowls under the bars of my cell and then moves on.
Though I get only a fleeting glance at the boy I can see that he is adorned
with the brand, rings and cock cage just like David and totally devoid of
hair. He works quickly pushing two bowls into each cell and then retreats
to the end of the building. The Arab walks slowly up and down looking into
each cell. Then, suddenly he cracks the whip in the air. David and the
others put their heads down to one of the bowls and start to suck up the
contents. I look down. One bowl contains what looks like thick soup, almost
grey in colour; the other just water.

The contents of the bowl taste of salt and virtually nothing else but, as I
have not eaten for at least a day, I quickly slurp the thick soup into my
mouth and swallow. Then I turn my attention to the other bowl and begin to
drink the water. I have hardly begun when the Arab cracks his whip again. I
notice that David immediately stops drinking, pushes his bowls under the
iron grill to his cell and then assumes the kneeling, head bowed posture as
before. He whispers that I should follow suit. In a few moments the naked
boy reappears as he collects the bowls from our cells. As he kneels I see
that his buttocks and thighs are covered with fading brown stripes. The boy
disappears to the end of the building and the Arab looks briefly into our
cells before leaving. As the door slams once again I see that David and the
other boys opposite me relax their posture.

I question David about what I have just witnessed and he tells me that it
is the normal routine for feeding. He tells me that we will be fed twice a
day and that I must immediately assume the kneeling position in the
presence of any of the Arabs or I will be whipped. He explains that we have
just 5 minutes to eat and drink before the whip sounds again and we must
stop.
He also tells me that I will soon be taken before Farook and then be
shaved, branded and pierced like him. I ask him if there is any point in
resisting. David adds that there will be no point in that. If I resist I
will be whipped and caned until I submit to their wishes; some of the boys
are covered in bright red marks when they come back to the cells.

I look around the cell. On one side there is a slatted bunk with a scruffy
mattress on it. There is nothing else except a hole in the floor in one
corner. Still feeling the effects of the drug that had been injected I lie
down on the bunk and close my eyes. I try to make sense of the last twenty
four hours but cannot and I slowly drift into sleep.

The next thing I know is the sound of the door to the building banging and
I open my eyes. I see that David is already kneeling behind the door to his
cell and quickly assume the position at the front of my cell. Another Arab
walks swiftly past and behind him, dragged by a chain, is a naked boy. I
get only a fleeting glimpse as he passes but I can see that his buttocks
are covered in bright red stripes and he is sobbing uncontrollably.

'That's what you get if you resist' whispers David.

My mind is in a spin. Surely this cannot be real. But then in a moment the
Arab is unlocking the door to my cell. I feel a heavy metal collar placed
around my neck and I am jerked to my feet by the chain held in the man's
hand.  I am dragged from the cell and out through the door of the building
where another man in full Arab dress is waiting. As they march me across
the open yard I cannot believe what David had told me.  How could this be
so but then I remember the beach , the men and the sting of the needle in
my thigh and the exchange of money in the desert. We enter another building
where, seated on a low settee is another man dressed in white Arab robes. I
am forced to my knees and told to place my face to the floor.  The man on
the settee speaks.

'My name is Farook, I am the owner of this establishment and I deal in
slaves. You are now a slave, you will be prepared by my overseers for sale
at auction where you will be displayed before my customers, each one eager
to purchase a boy like you. You will kneel up and face me now'.
I feel the strands of a whip as one of the overseers lashes me across the
back.
'Too slow slave' said the man standing behind me.
Again I feel the whip hard across my back.
'Slave spread knee wide, arms fold tight behind back, push shoulder back,
chest out, belly suck in, head bow'.
At each command he lashes me with the whip.
'Excellent Abdul, the slave learns quickly' says Farook.
He then addresses me.
'Look at me slave' he continues. 'You are now kneeling in one of many
positions you will learn to adopt in the presence of a master. There are
many positions of slave display but in every one your knees will be widely
spread so has to hide no detail of your body from your owner. Now I think
you could get those knees wider apart'
Beside The Arab is a boy kneeling on the floor. He is naked, collared and
ringed like David and in his hands he holds a glass of amber liquid. He
holds the glass high so that the Arab can reach it easily and his head is
bowed between his outstretched arms. I can see that the boy has his knees
extremely widely spread leaving his caged cock and balls clearly visible. I
notice some numbers tattooed above his cock and on his left thigh what
looks like a large brand mark.
'Excellent' responds Farook as I force my knees painfully apart. 'Your life
here and in the future will be less painful if you show absolute and
instant obedience to our wishes. Do you understand'.
'Yes' I quickly reply.
Again I feel the whip on my back.
'You are in the presence of your Master, slave' barked the Arab behind me.
'You will address him with respect'.
'Yes Master' I reply.
'That's better slave' said Farook, shifting his position and taking the
glass from the boy kneeling beside him. 'I have agents worldwide looking
for boys such as you; boys stupid enough to swim alone on isolated beaches.
You made it so easy for them and now your life is about to change forever.
Do not think anyone will be looking for you. You will have been reported as
missing, a search will have been made, your clothes will have been found at
the water's edge. But you will never be found and you will be assumed
drowned whilst swimming in the sea.  You will now bow your forehead to the
floor, kneel up again and say, "yes master I am now your slave, master".
Then you will crawl with your nose to the floor and kiss my feet'.

I can hardly believe what this man had said but as the whip lashes my back
again I realise I have no choice. I bow as instructed and say the words.
Then I crawl across the floor and kiss his feet.

'Excellent' said Farook. 'But when you crawl those knees must be kept
widely spread. Your cock and balls but always be properly displayed. Crawl
backwards and do it again'.

I quickly discover that it is very difficult to crawl with my nose to the
floor and my knees spread wide but not wanting to feel the whip again I
quickly do as ordered.

'Better slave' said Farook. 'You will now be prepared for display before
the buyers and the sale in a few week's time'.

'Kneel up slave, bow your head to the floor and then crawl backwards from
your Master's presence. Keep your nose to the floor and those knees wide'
said the overseer.

My mind still buzzing I quickly obey. On leaving the room Abdul orders me
to my feet and leads me to another room, the appearance of which fills me
with dread. In seconds I find myself strapped to a table with my legs and
arms spread wide by four men who attach leather straps. The straps are then
pulled tight stretching my body to all four corners of the table. Three
more straps are then placed over me, one across my chest, one across my
waist the third across my thighs just above my knees. These are passed
beneath the table and then pulled tight making it impossible for me to move
a muscle.

Almost immediately I feel cream being applied to my underarms and to the
area between my legs and around my cock. Initially it feels cool but this
quickly turns into a painful burning sensation.  Abdul leans over the table
and, in a mocking voice, tells me what is happening.

'Slaves are not permitted body hair' he said. 'The buyers will want to
inspect every detail of the goods for sale. The cream will remove all
traces of hair and it will kill the roots so it will not grow back again'.

The next thing I hear is the buzzing of a hair trimmer as my head hair is
removed. I have a good head of hair and really do not want it shaved off so
this comes initially as a shock but then I remember David in the cells and
the other naked boys I have seen here. It dawns on me that if I am to be
exhibited naked in front of a crowd of men bidding to own me, then naked
means totally naked, not a single hair. I am only just beginning to take in
what is happening.
The cream is now spread all over the top of my head and down to the back of
my neck. The burning sensation has now changed to itching but I can do
nothing to ease it.

The overseer Abdul continues.

'You will now be branded and your slave number tattooed above your cock'.

I try to protest but he quickly presses a wide piece of adhesive tape over
my mouth. For a second I can feel the heat of the iron above my skin and
then the totally indescribably pain as the red hot metal burns into my
thigh. I try to scream and my lungs feel they will burst but I can make
only a muffled sound through the tape. I  struggle with all the strength I
can muster but the straps hold firm as the iron is pressed into my flesh.
The overseer leans over me and just smiles.

'Just the beginning of you new life boy, as a slave'.

The iron is removed and immediately cold water is poured over my thigh. The
overseer says this is to ensure a nice sharp brand that will not spread
into the surrounding flesh but I cannot appreciate the comment as the pain
in my thigh is overwhelming.  The cold water continues for some time but
the pain does not lessen. Then I feel the cream being wiped away. Abdul
holds the scraper above my face to show me what used to be my pubic hair.

The next thing I feel is the sharp prick of a needle on my belly just
inches above my cock. It seems interminable minutes as the rapidly
vibrating needle works its way across my skin. I cannot see what is being
done of course but I know it must be my slave number being indelibly
imprinted on my body.
The body straps are removed and shortly afterwards those securing my wrists
and ankles thought they are still held by the other men. They turn me over
onto my belly and once more the straps are secured. Again I feel the heat
of the iron and then the excruciating pain as it burns deep into my right
buttock. Then more water is dribbled over my flesh for several minutes.
Abdul places his hand under my chin. He lifts my head and looks into my
tear filled eyes.

'When you are released you will kneel, bow to me and crawl to kiss my feet,
understand slave' said the overseer.

'Yes' I say.

Instantly I feel the strands of a whip slashing across my back.

'You will address your betters here as Master, understand slave'?

'Yes master' I quickly reply.

The straps are released and I quickly scramble from the table and kneel
facing the overseer. I spread my knees as wide as I can and bow my forehead
to the floor. Then, keeping my knees as wide as possible I crawl forward
and kiss his boots.

'Excellent slave boy, says the Arab whose name I now know well. 'it is good
that you learn quickly'.