Date: Sat, 13 May 2006 16:17:37 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: DISAPPEARANCES: Case No. 2 (Authoritarian)

[If you are new to the DISAPPEARANCES series, the story below story needs
to be read in the context of the introduction which was previously posted
with Case. No. 1.  As usual, I would appreciate your comments on this story
at anonymous4371@juno.com.  Thanks.  Bill Smith]

Case No. 2:

[The second story is about a vigorous black boy from a city in the United
States rather ironically renowned for its open marketing of black slaves
just 150 years ago.]

            I was one cocky son-of-a bitch strolling the streets of
Memphis, Tennessee. Well built, chocolate brown, and hung like a horse, I
had women drooling for my cock, knowing full well they would have to stand
in line and pay plenty to get it to pleasure them. I really was a son of a
bitch.  My mother, bless her heart, earned her living the only way she knew
how - spreading her legs to anything that would pay.  Consequently, I never
knew who my dad was but one thing was certain - he must have been one good
looking, well built bastard if he produced me! Since mom was 'high yeller,'
he must have been coal black since I turned out that rich chocolate color
that most everyone, white and black, found appealing.

     Now 17, I was at my peak since I was fully mature by 15 and chose my
dress carefully to show my body off before hitting the streets.  This
generally meant skin-tight jeans that displayed my huge basket just right,
no shirt to show off my nice puffy pecs and ringed tits if weather allowed,
no hat since I wanted everyone to appreciate my tight wavy black curls, and
white Adidas that ran at least $100 over otherwise bare feet. Other than a
gold stud in my right ear lobe, that was it - why detract from a beautiful
body I always figured.  School was ancient history since I stopped going
when I reached 15 and following momma's footsteps, earned my living by
fucking women so desperate they were more than happy to pay the going rate.
Plenty of men approached me too, but all I would let them do was suck me
off for a cool $100 a load.  God knows what they would have paid if I had
let them in my ass as most of them, especially the whites, really wanted.
Most weeks I pocketed over $1200 - not bad for a dozen or so loads a week
which I probably would have jerked off anyway if I hadn't of had all those
opportunities to 'relieve' myself. That way I always had pretty for car
payments on my shiny new Chrysler 300, some cool clothes when I decided to
cover myself up, an outstanding Boze stereo and all the latest CDs anyone
could want, and could easily pay half the rent for the condo momma and I
shared not far from Beale Street where most of the action was for the two
or us.

     But all of that changed on a single night in late September. A white
man approached me and offered me $150 to suck my dick if I didn't mind
going up to his hotel room at the nearby Peabody Hotel using the service
entrance since, he explained, the hotel would frown at guests entering the
lobby without a shirt on.  I laughed and told him I was used to service
entrances since most of my middle aged lady customers staying at hotels
didn't want to be seen with a half-naked black boy in a hotel lobby.  We
agreed to meet in his hotel room in 15 minutes, about the time it took to
walk from where we were at to the hotel and sealed the deal with my letting
him get a good feel of what he was buying right there on the sidewalk of
Beale Street while a few nearby tourists stared and then giggled.

     When I got to the hotel room, the 'honky' paid me the $150 up front
and asked me to strip down while he fixed a drink.  I downed the drink
while he struggled to get all of my prick down his throat and started
sucking me seriously. Just as I unloaded down his throat, I felt dizzy and
the last thing I remember was slumping to the floor as the white guy was
still sucking away.

     When I regained consciousness Lord knows how much later, I was in a
cage, stark naked, and sweating like crazy from the horrible heat.  I was
hungry and thirsty and showing hard despite my predicament of not having
the faintest idea of where I was, what I was doing in a damned cage, and
what had happened to get me to this terribly hot place.  When I looked
around, I saw I was in a small warehouse-like room filled with a dozen
cages, most of which were stuffed full of young naked guys of all skin,
hair, and eye colors although at least half of them were black boys like
myself.  It was obvious from the stench that most of us had pissed all over
ourselves at some point in time and hadn't been washed in several days.

     "Now that the last of you boys has awakened, I'll fill you in," a very
cultured voice spoke out in a distinct British accent.  I looked at the
source and saw a large white man dressed in a khaki safari outfit holding a
rawhide whip in his left hand and a police stun gun in his right hand. He
looked like all business.

     "You are now in one of the facilities of the company known as Qaboos
Personnel.  One of our most important clients, Sheik Ibrahim Al-Hiri, has
asked us to collect a small assortment of slaves based on his personal
tastes.  His intention, if he finds anything he likes, is to replace the
men of his harem which are aging or which he has grown tired of.  He plans
to trade in that stock with us on new slaves if we can fill his needs.  You
boys have been what we called "lifted" from various spots throughout the
world to fill our cages in that you all have certain things in common: no
strong family or social connections that would have the means to go looking
for you or are even likely to report your disappearance; nice, young,
appealing bodies with big prominent sexual equipment; attractive faces, and
youthful exuberance that buyers in this part of the world find
irresistible; and lifestyles that were marginal at best so training for
your future life as a sex slave will be minimized."

     There was a stunned silence from the cage inhabitants followed by a
chorus of shouts.  "You've got to be kidding," "Go fuck yourself, dude,"
"They don't have slaves anymore, asshole," "I ain't anyone's sex slave,
honkey," "What do you mean, harem - we're all boys here if you didn't
notice, asswipe," and on and on as the man with the whip simply smirked and
then openly laughed at us as he idly waved the bullwhip around in his right
hand until we had run our course of verbal retorts.

     Suddenly, with a lash of the whip which sounded like a gun shot
against the cage of a boy still mouthing off, we were all shocked into
total silence.  This absolute quiet was broken only by the piercing scream
of the boy who had apparently been hit somewhere by the whip through the
bars of his cage.

     The man with the whip continued now that he had regained our
attention.  "Let me educate you boys a bit.  First off, there are plenty of
slaves in the world - it's just that few are even aware of them and even
fewer can afford them at today's prices.  Second, most slaves nowadays are
kidnaped off the streets like you boys, bought from prison wardens or
orphanages, or are bred to order at one of the breeding farms located in
remote spots throughout the world.  All of you here today are in the first
category I mentioned - kidnaped - but it won't be too long until you meet
slaves from the other sources I mentioned. In fact, most of your trainers
will be bred slaves in that they're not hampered with notions of freedom,
civil liberties, or personal agendas outside of a slave's obligation to
please his owner at all times.  Third, you boys are now slaves and always
will be slaves for the rest of your life - it's an irreversible process.
Fourth, you boys are lucky in that you are good looking and well equipped
so if all goes well you'll end up being sex slaves as long as your looks
hold out - an easy life for a slave compared to their usual lot of working
in the mines, laboring 14 hours a day in a chain gang, and other things not
uncommon in many parts of the world today if you know where to look. Fifth,
after you're trained to our satisfaction, you won't mind having an owner
that values you enough to pay the big money you bring on the open market -
using your body's assets for their pleasure is small enough payment for
taking you out of the training facilities and into their own homes. Sixth,
slaves, even those down in the mines and on the plantations and road gangs,
have a lot of advantages free men don't - their mistress or master worries
about where their food and shelter is coming from; their masters decide
their every action so they aren't burdened with the anxiety of
decision-making; and owners naturally take pride in and value what they
have paid so much for.  You'll be dear to them financially, and, if you
behave yourself in their bed, you'll be dear to them emotionally.  A lot of
handsome slaves who are sexually satisfying are the pride of their master
or mistress' eyes.

     "That's about all you need to know now, other than understanding you
have no input into any of this and it will happen no matter what you think
or feel about it one way or the other.  You're property now - nothing more
and nothing less - and that's not ever going to change.  The only thing
that will change is who owns you at any given time.  Most slaves have eight
or nine owners before they're finally sold off to the rendering
plants. Since most of you are barely into full manhood, you can look
forward to a good 10 to even 15 years as a sex slave if you learn
everything you need to know in that area and keep your body in perfect
shape.  That's a relatively pampered life for a slave from almost any
perspective.  After that, well, frankly, you'll be sold off for your work
potential in the factories, mines, warehousing or construction work -
wherever you'll bring the best price.  That wears you out at a faster rate,
but even there most of you will make it for another 10 to 15 years if
you're lucky enough to belong to someone who sees the wisdom of feeding you
enough and lightening up a bit with the whips and prods the overseers are
so fond of using.  After that, you'll probably welcome the release death
brings you, but even there your owner will profit a bit on you - some of
your organs may still be good enough to sell for a transplant; your hide
may be worth tanning if it's not too scarred by that time; and, even if
none of that works out, your flesh can often be processed for pet food or
high grade fertilizer."  He finished with a brilliant smile and sizzled his
stun gun to demonstrate its batteries were fully charged.

     Again, his remarks were met with stunned silence. Looking around for
confirmation, I could clearly see the man's revelations were as jolting to
the other 'slaves' as they were to me.  But he spoke with such assuredness
and utter confidence, so matter-of-factly, it was impossible not to take
him seriously. After all, we were caged, totally naked, and one of us had
been viciously struck with a bullwhip as casually as if you shooed a fly
off your nose.

     Before we had a chance to recover, two totally naked men entered the
room with thick bronze collars welded around their necks and both were
fitted with rings that encompassed their entire genitals, making their sex
stick out in front of them obscenely. Both men had not a hair on their body
outside that from their neck collars up, and their shaved, ringed genitals
looked even bigger than they were due to the lack of a man's usual bush
down in those areas.  Both men were not only big but extremely muscular and
both sported well sculpted pecs, abs, and rumps along with handsome faces,
extraordinarily large sex organs, and shiny skin that gleamed with oil
which highlighted all their bodily features. One carried a huge whip; the
other had a long electric prod in his hand.

     "Meet your trainers, boys," the large clothed man said as he gestured
to the two apparitions of pure manhood in front of us.  They're both
products of one of our own Qaboos breeding farms and both of them have
completed a rather long and successful career in one of our best customer's
personal harem of highly selected pleasure slaves. Rather than sell them
off to the mines, we decided to keep them here with us and utilize their
skills as trainers - a very wise decision as it turned out.  You're lucky
to be under their tutelage - training time has been cut by a quarter when
we use these experienced slaves in training a new batch."

     "But I'm not a slave," emanated from one of the cages in a decidedly
foreign accent.

     Instantly, the caged boy daring to speak out was rendered unconscious
with the stun gun held by the trainer nearest him as the slave's body
jerked and twitched in the bottom of the cage and foam spilled out of his
lax mouth.

     "I can't believe this," emanated from another cage and the other
trainer, without hesitation, stepped over to his cage, opened the door, and
savagely used his bullwhip to silence the new captive until he too was
whimpering uncontrollably in a bloody mass on his cage floor, ugly red
welts covering most of his black body.

     "Anyone else have a comment?" the only man wearing clothes in the room
asked with a flick of his own whip.

     There were no further comments - only looks of absolute terror from
those of us undisciplined as yet.

     "Then we'll start with your first lesson as a slave," the big man said
softly.  "When a slave is asked a question, he always answers immediately
with a 'Yes, Master,' or 'No, Master,' as the case may be.  Now we'll
practice that response, he said knowingly, flicking his whip again for
emphasis.

     "Anyone else have a comment?" the dressed man repeated the question.

     "No, Master," came out of all our mouths instantly - even the one
still writhing on his cage floor from the lashing he had received.

     "That's good," the dressed man said softly.  "See, I knew you could
learn quickly."

     Turning to the two nude trainers, he said rather pointedly, "this
batch should be ready for Sheik Al-Hiri's inspection in just a few months
if you're not too timid with the discipline."

     "Yes, master," both trainers said in unison with their eyes lowered in
respect to their immediate supervisor.

     But the clothed man was pleased to see both of them gripping their
instruments of instruction tightly as they answered.  He had no doubt they
would be well used over the coming months.

THREE MONTHS LATER:

     "Present your holes for insertion of your butt plugs," one of the
trainers commanded and instantly all ten of us turned around, spread our
legs wide, and bent over with a big smile on our faces to best expose our
well-stretched ass holes so the gigantic butt plugs we now wore each night
to properly "stretch us" could be jammed all the way up us.

     After all of us had a huge butt plug rammed up us and locked in place,
another order was issued.

     "Frontal inspection position," the other trainer said and, groaning a
little from the pain of the inserted butt plugs, all of us without
hesitation turned around, spread our legs again the prescribed 18 inches
apart, assumed full posture with our heads and eyes straight ahead above
our collared necks, put a nice smile on our face which showed off our
polished teeth, neatly groomed head hair, and fully shaved bodies, and
thrust our chests with their ringed tits and our hips with our ringed
genitals out as far as we could so anyone could easily have access to them
if they so desired.  Our hands automatically sought the back of our neck
collars so all our body was on full display.

     The trainers' overseer, the clothed man from our very first day here,
went down the line, tweaking our tit rings to see if we jerked or jumped
from the stimulation and then massaging each slaves balls to test if each
slave fully accepted such manipulation.  Satisfied at our training in that
area to date, he then stroked each of us to a full erection and continued
until each of us yielded a load of fresh hot cum into a large tin cup he
had in his left hand.  None of us moved an inch while we were milked
although some of us invariably twitched a bit as we shot the first volley
into his tin cup.

     "They're getting there," he complemented the trainer slaves, who
gleamed at his praise, both sporting hard-ons of their own as they
witnessed our milking. "It won't be too much longer until we can show them
to Sheik Al-Hiri."

     "Yes, Master," both trainer slaves responded, smiles on their faces.

     "Were they as easy to train as I suggested?" the overseer asked the
trainers.

     "Yes, master, for the main part, although a few if them took a little
more discipline than we anticipated to properly take a good fucking."

     "But they're fine now, I assume?" the overseer asked.

     "Yes, master."

     "Did you notice any difference between the black slaves and the
others?" the overseer asked as he asked one of the slaves to bend over and
expose his hole so he could plunge the huge already inserted butt plug in
and out of him for a thorough fucking.

     "No, master, although.." one of the trainer slaves hesitated.

     "Permission to speak, slave," the overseer retorted.

     "It seems to this humble slave that the black boys give a more
satisfying sucking," the slave trainer continued, his eyes to the ground in
continued respect to his overseer.

     "A lot of people think that," the overseer laughed.  "Something about
blacks having a rougher tongue surface and thicker lips, but you and I both
know there's a lot of variation on that score among both white and black
slaves," he chuckled.

     "Yes, master," the trainer slave responded quietly with a smile
creeping across his face.  It was obvious he agreed with his overseer on
the observation that there were lots of variations among both black and
white slaves on any number of things.

     "That's where you bred slaves have a huge advantage," the overseer
continued.  "All that variation is being bred out of you with each new
generation.  Won't be long until we narrow it down to a pure slave strain
that will bring top market prices, let me tell you."

     "Yes, master," both trainer slaves said almost instantly, proud of
their bred slave status and well aware they had brought top dollar when
they had first been put up for sale.

     That variation the three of them were discussing was apparent in the
'slave lot' I had ended up with.  Out of the ten being trained from that
fateful day of our 'lifting' until now, six of us were various shades of
black and the other four varied from the light brown of a California
Mexican, the pure white of a blond Polack from Detroit, the golden hue of
an Arab boy from Tunisia, and the deep tan and jet black hair of a
Italian. All of us now sported well- defined body musculature, blemish free
hides, huge pecs, tightly muscled abs, beautifully groomed head hair,
closely shaved cheeks and bodies, and all of us were now genitally ringed
to best show off our extraordinarily large sex organs - all reasons,
probably, that we had been 'lifted' to start with.

     Our training had been universal, however, and all of us, regardless of
skin or hair color, could, without hesitation of any type, sink to our
knees to suck clear down our throats anything presented to us and swallow
cum, piss or whatever as if it were the nourishment we had sought all our
lives.  All of us could take even the biggest pricks up our butts with
hardly a murmur of protest or resistance, tightening our ass muscles for
our user's ultimate satisfaction almost automatically at just the right
time. We could stand motionless as our tits were fingered and manipulated
until they were fully erect, but usually also red and sore before our
trainers were satisfied.  We could, with the mere flick of a finger, serve
stud to any women or man who cared to use us in that way as well as lick a
woman's sex until she was screaming in delight, never daring to allow
ourselves to orgasm without our user's permission so that we could stud on
for hours on end. We could achieve erection upon verbal command only and
hold it for as long as our trainers wanted.  And we could assume any
position for sex mankind had ever thought up.  Best of all, we had learned
to smile no matter what was asked of us, and had, over time, learned to
relax and enjoy most of what we were asked to do while still remembering
always that it was our job to please others, not the other way around.

     I could barely remember being back in Memphis, strutting down the
street in my tight jeans trying to show off my big basket.  It all seemed
so, well, irrelevant now, even silly and immature if you will.  Now I did
what I was told with purpose and conviction - to not do so meant instant
punishment, hunger, thirst, and unforgettable pain.  These were the basics
of life which offered the structure I had needed all along to feel needed
and useful.  As a slave, I was valued enough to be fully trained for my new
life and any owner, I was sure, was going to treasure what he had bought
once he had me in his bed.

     My nine fellow trainees weren't all that different from me it turned
out in our whispered conversations once we were plugged and caged each
night. Like me, they had taken great pride in their physical development,
especially in the size of their sex organs. Most of them had been admired
for their bodies long before they were enslaved and all of them had gained
considerable sexual experience for their age long before they were
'lifted.'  Although shocked to discover slavery was alive and well in
certain parts of the world at least, they could easily see why they had
been selected to be 'lifted' based on the attractiveness of their bodies
and, once they discovered what they were being trained for and the type of
life they would led in at least the immediate future, most of the initial
resistance and rebellion simply left.  Especially when they learned that as
long as they did exactly as they were told instantly, they could avoid most
of the pain of correction.  They also began to appreciate that slaves
didn't have to worry about much - most decisions were made for them and
their upkeep was assured as long as they did what they were supposed to.
The fact they wouldn't have the cushy life of a sex slave forever didn't
bother then now - they were still young enough to never worry about the
future.  Whenever they saw a draft slave pulling a wagon delivering
supplies, his back scarred from a constant whip, or saw chain gangs of
workers out in the agricultural fields surrounding the training facility,
they either didn't really see them or felt that when the time came they
would adjust just like the naked bodies had that they saw toiling away out
in the sun trying to dodge the overseer's whip whenever they could.

     "Pretty boys always think they're going to stay that way forever," he
remembered his trainer's supervisor once saying as a bunch of traded-in
older slaves arrived to be caged in a holding pen in another building prior
to resale.  But even those slaves past their prime were sold off to a
construction firm looking for laborers doing the drudge work - not too
awful a fate as far as I was concerned who knew he didn't have much to
offer the world other than his body anyway.

ONE MONTH LATER:

     Sheik Al-Hiri arrived exactly as we had been told accompanied by two
of his 'body slaves' - real beauties by any standards if you liked
well-built blond boys - that he generally had accompany him, we were told,
simply to show them off in all their naked glory.  Or course, they could
take care of any need he might incur along the way, like sucking him off if
he got horny on the ride over in the Rolls, or offering up their prick and
balls if he felt like playing with a slave boy to pass the time. But after
his arrival and just as we were being ushered in for his inspection, he
clapped his hands and the real purpose of the two slaves became apparent.
They sunk to all fours, forming an intricate but comfortable bench with
their backs and arms for him to use as a chair while he inspected us.  The
Sheik steadied himself on the sleek backs of his beautifully muscled blond
slaves and looked us over thoroughly, front and back, just as we had
expected.  He milked all of us and tasted the output carefully, obviously
interested in both texture, thickness, and taste.

     He bought five of the six black slaves, including myself, and all but
the Mexican boy of the others. Those two were might nice looking slaveboys
and had taken to their training easily, but I did notice the rejected black
was only 8" fully erect - somewhat smaller than the rest of us blacks - and
the Mexican boy had a small blemish on his back, the result of some
adolescent tattooing long ago back in his native land. Both the rejects
were placed in a holding cell to be shown to the owner of a road
construction firm scheduled to arrive later in the day looking for cheap
rejects to fill our a work gang where two had died on him.

     We were placed in Sheik Al-Hiri's own slave transport van and
delivered to his palace that very afternoon.  By that night, we each had
our own pallet in his harem and by the next morning we had been fucked
repeatedly by either him, the harem keeper, or one or another of his many
sons eagerly awaiting our arrival.

     The next morning we were sore and walked a little unsteadily from all
our usage but knew we would quickly adjust as we breakfasted on a delicious
assortment of grapes, dates, and rice cakes.

     That afternoon, his sons brought some of their friends with them to
try us out and even before the Sheik called for us that night, we were
already pretty well fucked out and our stomachs were filled with cum.
Fortunately, the Sheik was more interested in fucking our mouths than our
assholes that night and so he never noticed our soreness.

     For the next ten years, that's pretty well the story of my life.  So
far there's been no talk of replacing us, but I know the time is coming.
There's even a rumor the Sheik may sell us to a public brothel where prices
are so cheap that anyone can have a good-looking slave service him. If so,
it would be a good way to escape the mines, but then there's always the
chance we'll have the good luck to get sold to a construction firm or a
road gang.  It all depends on market conditions, of course, and how many
slots firms like that have to fill. Even there, the best looking slaves
have advantages - they often get pulled out from the gangs to service their
overseers.

     Whatever happens, it's not my choice anyway.  As a slave, I'll see
what happens and adjust accordingly.  After all, that's what I've been
doing, rather successfully I thought to myself, ever since I 'left' Memphis
way back when.