Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2013 15:34:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: "Duped  Chapter 9" (Gay Male Authoritarian)

Duped
Chapter 9
"Close Quarters Inspections"

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years.

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): January, 2013
Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

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the writer's imagination. Please respect the integrity of the story and
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Chapter 9: "Close Quarters Inspections"

Just inches separate Finbar and me from the African father and son. But the
bars of our prison are both a physical and emotional barrier between us and
they define our vastly different roles. On our side of this physical
barrier is the sad world of slaves. The holding pen defines us as two,
naked slaves about to be appraised; while the other side of the bars
represents the world of free man as represented by the Malik and the two
Africans and it is a world which is now closed to me forever.

The physical barrier is there for all to see. However, the emotional
barrier is less tangible and is noticeable in the differing attitudes of
those standing on either side of the bars. My emotions are those of one who
has been dispossessed of his past and denied a future. Just twenty-four
hours ago I'd been a successful London-based lawyer with a promising future
ahead of me. Today, by the cruel hand that fate has dealt me, I am a
powerless slave doomed to lifelong servitude. Naturally, this unwelcome
development in my life leaves me traumatized and with very mixed emotions.

I bitterly resent Anwar's betrayal of me. It hurts that the trust and
friendship I'd given to him has been cruelly abused. And yet, I know deep
within that he is right about me. I do possess a slave's nature and
temperament and this has manifested itself so readily throughout the
happenings of the past day. Paradoxically, much as I hate the thought of
being a slave to another man, I am also erotically aroused by the notion of
serving a Master. How many times over the years had I dreamed of serving an
Arab Master?  Arabs had always been uppermost in my fantasies and not once
had I ever thought about being a slave to a black man. Now there is the
very real possibility that I soon shall be.

As a slave, I must wait for the Africans to take the initiative. But for
now they seem content to just visually scan Finbar and me. Pressed up
against the bars, we are just inches from them and we wait expectantly for
the first exploratory touch of their hands upon our nakedness.

As we wait, I am able to evaluate these two men who have come to inspect
us.

The father is handsomely arrogant and he is expensively dressed in a grey,
Italian, business suit which is complemented by a white shirt of the finest
cotton and a well-co-ordinated navy blue and maroon paisley patterned tie.
Everything about the man exudes wealth and its associated power.
Instinctively, I know this is a man who'll not tolerate any stupidity or
slackness from his subordinates. How much less then would he tolerate poor
performance from his slaves? I know, should I become this man's property,
that he will prove a stern taskmaster.

Ahmedu Hadi - for that is his name - is a very handsome man and his
clothing does nothing to hide his impressive physique which shows through
the smart cut of his eloquent clothes. His son, Abdel, is equally as
handsome in a younger, less mature way but he also has the arrogance and
same physical presence as his father. He is dressed more casually in
tailored, fawn shorts and a figure hugging, blue polo shirt which
highlights the contours of his imposing teenaged body. Interestingly, I see
the prominent bulge in his shorts which suggests he is massively
aroused. The tent pole points in the direction of Fin and me and there is
some satisfaction in knowing that, quite possibly, we are the cause of his
excitement.

I grow anxious as I wait for Ahmedu's next move and I begin to nervously
shuffle my feet and to fidget. This earns me a stern rebuke from Malik.

"Stop fidgeting, slave Stand still or I'll have an overseer put his whip to
your ass!"

Fear of the whip overcomes my nervousness and I stand still waiting on
Ahmedu Hadi.

"For a new slave he responds well to an order." Ahmedu says
approvingly. "That's most pleasing!"

"The slave is very docile and has quickly adapted to his changed
circumstances." Malik replies. "He won't give his new master any trouble of
that I am absolutely sure. His current master, my friend Anwar, always
predicted that he was meant for slavery. He recognized the slave within the
free man at their first meeting and he worked assiduously to grant this new
slave his heart's desire."

"Then he chose well for the slave is everything of which you boasted,
Malik" Ahmedu replies approvingly. "He is indeed well set-up and most
handsome and would be a most welcome addition to my household."

"How many slaves do you possess, Ahmedu?"

"To be honest, Malik, I'm not absolutely sure. Because I am away on
business so much I leave such matters in the hands of my very capable major
domo, Obike."

"There are twenty-one, Dad!" Abdel interjects. "We have twenty-one slaves
in our household."

"There you have it Malik!" Ahmedu laughs. "My son knows my home better than
I do."

"That's a lot of slaves to control, Ahmedu." Malik asks. "How do you manage
so many?"

"Oh, I leave the discipline of the slaves in the very capable hands of
Obike. Although, I am aware that Abdel now assists Obike in his management
of them. Obike tells me that Abdel wields the cane and the paddle to great
effect."

"But why do you have so many slaves?"

"In my household, the slaves aren't kept just as ornaments; although, as
you know, I do first and foremost buy them for their fine physiques and
good looks. But they must work for their food and lodgings. My house and
its grounds are extensive and the slaves are gainfully employed at all
times.  All are multi-faceted and capable of working outdoors in the
gardens or within the house. Of course, I entertain a lot and the slaves
have a role to play there serving as waiters. And of course there are their
special duties."

"May I ask what is involved in their special duties?"

"Malik, I entertain my business associates from around the world at home
and I am often involved in earnest discussions with them. I find making a
slave available for their sexual gratification works wonders with them.  My
slaves have the capacity to sweeten the mood of even the most difficult
client."

"Then if you buy this slave, will he be used to entertain your guests and
business associates?"

"But of course! Most assuredly one of his major duties will be to willingly
offer his ass and mouth to my friends and clients. I require this of all my
slaves."

I listen in horror to this discussion about my "special duties" should I
become Ahmedu Hadi's slave. I will, in effect, become a "whore slave" whose
primary purpose will be to assist my Master in his business dealings by
prostituting myself. Even in my most fantastical dreams, I'd not foreseen
such an eventuality.

"Do any of your slaves ever fail to please your business associates?"

"It does happen occasionally! But most of my slaves work conscientiously to
satisfy my clients. They fear the consequences of a client reporting to me
that he was left unfulfilled or dissatisfied by their efforts."

"What happens to such a slave, Ahmedu?"

"He is shipped upriver to my plantation to work as a common field slave."

"You have a plantation? What crops do you grow on your plantation?"

"We grow mainly tree crops - cacao, oil palms and rubber. But we also grow
root crops like cassava, yams, taro and sweet potatoes. Of course all of
these crops are labour intensive and require a large number of slaves to
produce profitable crops. But I'm happy to say that my plantation returns a
most handsome profit. But it wasn't always so. When I inherited the
plantation from my grandfather it was operating at a loss. However, for
sentimental family reasons I kept it and applied the best business
practises to it to ensure it became self-sustaining and didn't become a
financial drain on my other business interests."

"Then Ahmedu, it is a measure of your undoubted business acumen that your
plantation now runs at a profit. But from the way you speak it would appear
that slavery is tolerated in your country."

"Indeed it is Malik! Of course, officially it's not legal but it is
benignly tolerated to such an extent that most people are very open about
the slaves they own. It's now more common to see slaves in public than it
was just five years ago.  It's a measure of just how tolerant we have
become in the use of the slave labour which contributes so significantly to
our emerging national economy."

"Much as it is here in Maluchistan. It's not officially recognized but it
is openly tolerated. And that is how it should be. Only good can come from
slavery.  I see nothing wrong with one man owning another and profiting
from the relationship. The relationship between Master and slave is a
symbiotic one. The Master provides the slave with gainful employment,
adequate food and shelter and the slave's meagre labour rewards the Master
financially for his goodness to the slave."

"You are a man after my own heart, Malik. I couldn't agree more. A slave's
true purpose is to work for the betterment of his Master."

"Ahmedu, obviously, you and I see eye to eye on that. But let us return to
these two beauties."

Malik cleverly brings attention back to Fin and me.

"Indeed, Malik! Abdel and I should continue with our inspections of these
two slaves."

Suddenly, Ahmedu reaches through the bars and places both hands on my
heaving chest. His touch is electrifying and little sparks of pleasure
surge through my body alerting my brain to the sensuous feel of his
hands. His fingers seek out my sensitive nipples and plays with them. As he
twists, pinches and teases them to needle-point hardness, I begin to
breathe more heavily. Ahmedu watches appreciatively as my chest rises and
falls with each ragged breath and he nods approvingly at the nervous
fluttering of my belly muscles. Gently, he uses an index finger to trace
down the centre line of my abdominals to my navel. He pauses and inserts
his finger into the indent and probes its depth before withdrawing it and
switching his attention to my genitals.

I recall the earlier advice that I should "sell myself in the hope of
attracting a good master" and so I widen my stance and suggestively poke my
cock and balls out through the bars. Ahmedu is amused by my action and
laughingly tells Malik.

"The slave is eager to impress! Well then, I mustn't disappoint him."

He takes fold of my scrotum and tugs it out through the bars to better
gauge the size of my balls.  Then, he runs the tip of a finger along the
sensitive underside of my cock.  My knees sag at the delicious torture he
subjects it to and I am as putty in his hands. Wilfully my cock betrays my
eagerness until its rigidity almost matches that of the iron bars of my
prison.

As Ahmedu continues to arouse me, I'm suddenly aware that his son is
subjecting Fin to a similar examination. I hear Finbar's plea to the young,
African teenager.

"Please young Master, feel my cock and judge how hard I am. Buy me young
Master and you'll find me a most willing slave. Young Master, do you want
to examine my ass?"

"I've heard the saying about the product selling itself to the buyer,"
Ahmedu Hadi laughs heartily, "and your slave is living proof of that,
Malik. Your slaves are always so eager to sell themselves."

"I fear it's no more than self-interest on the slave's part." Malik
comments drily. "All slaves are eager to attract a good master. Slaves are
naturally cunning creatures and no doubt this slave is seeking to
ingratiate himself into Abdel's good graces."

I know there is truth in Malik's word. Earlier on, I'd been part of the
conversation with the six waiters when I was told it's permissible for a
slave to vocally encourage a potential buyer by pointing out the most
saleable features of his body. Of course, I understand the logic of
this. After all, Finbar and the other five had spent the past twelve months
in onerous servitude. Who could blame them for trying to attract a
potentially benign owner? And no doubt life as a pleasure slave is
preferable to that of a heavy duty work slave. But the idea that I would
verbally sell myself is anathema to me. I doubt that I could bring myself
to beg Ahmedu Hadi to.

"Master, I beg you to come and feel the hardness of my cock".

But I don't have to beg or to ask.  Ahmedu reaches in through the bars and
takes hold of my rampant cock. He wraps his fist around it in a tight
stranglehold while he uses his thumbnail to deliciously tease the opening
of my piss-slit. Slowly at first, his fist begins to piston along the shaft
lifting me to higher levels of enjoyment. Then as he quickens his pace I
respond; as my breathing quickens, my knees sag a little and my hips begin
an involuntary thrusting against the bars of my prison. Ahmedu has rendered
me helpless and I am a prisoner of my own mounting passion.

As Ahmedu's eyes bore into me, I cast my eyes downwards at my cock. I feel
the pleasurable contractions as my precum dribbles from my piss-slit and
hangs threadlike from the eye of my cock.  Using the index finger of his
free hand, Ahmedu captures the thread of my precum and touches my lips with
the finger. There's an unspoken instruction for me to open my mouth and to
suck his finger.  As I do so, I taste the sweetness of my own male essence
and eager for more, I begin to suckle the finger much as a calf hungrily
suckles its mother's teat.  This pleases Ahmedu and I wonder if he is
imagining that I have his cock in my mouth rather than his finger.

"The slave's mouth has good suction!" Ahmedu declares to no one in
particular; it's as though he is thinking out aloud. "That's another point
in his favour."

"Then, does he meet with your approval, Ahmedu?" Malik asks.

"Indeed he does, Malik! But now I will need to check out his ass. In the
final analysis, that will be the deciding factor. "

"Indeed, as it is with all slaves bound for their Masters' beds." Malik
adds, sagely.

I look to see what is happening with Fin. I'd been too engrossed in
Ahmedu's inspection of me to pay him and Abdel much attention.

Finbar stands with his body pressed hard against the bars. As I look at
him, I can see him doing his utmost to attract Abdel's interest.

Fin is an impressive, young slave in his mid-twenties and possesses a
magnificent physique; his slave- smooth, hairless body admirably emphasises
his well-defined musculature.  I have to say he is without doubt one of the
handsomest men I've ever seen. His closely cropped, dark blond hair is
thick suggesting it would be naturally curly and his eyes are the bluest
I've seen. As the teenaged Abdel reaches between the bars to touch his
chest and belly, he pushes his body forward and smiles beguilingly - no
doubt hoping to impress - and his full red lips part to show his even,
white teeth.

He responds to Abdel's touch by moving his groin even closer to the bars
until his genitals protrude in a blatant invitation to the young African to
fondle them. Abdel accepts the invitation and slowly strokes the willing
cock to a hard erection. Fin is an accomplished showman; he moans
appreciatively and writhes suggestively against the bars. Obviously he has
learned much over the past twelve months not the least being how to attract
and hold the interest of an admirer.

Suddenly, Abdel orders Fin to.

"Turn around."

Fin obeys willingly and presents himself for inspection. He moves his legs
apart, pushes his buttocks as close to the bars as possible and leans
inwards into the pen. He has positioned himself strategically for Abdel to
inspect him and he wriggles his ass in a cheeky invitation to the teenager
to examine him more closely.

I watch as Fin thrusts back and forth and I hear his soft moaning as he
rides Abdel's finger. In the effort to "sell his body" Fin is proving to be
a cunning slave. He recognises the keen interest being shown in him and he
is striving to turn this inspection to his advantage.

While it's obvious that Finbar is a clever slave; it's also clear to me
that he is faking. But rather than annoy Abdel, the slave is proving
popular with the young African.

I wonder if I should take my lead from Fin. Certainly in his case it seems
to be paying dividends.

"Tell me Abdel, how goes the inspection of your slave?" Ahmedu asks. "Does
he come up to your expectations?"

"Yes Dad! He's a fine slave and I like him very much. Can we buy him Dad
....... Please?"

"Steady on there, son! Let's not jump the gun. We need to test him more
fully before we make a final decision.  Remember looks can be deceiving.
He might look good but we need to know everything is in good working
order."

"Well Dad, so far I can't fault him. He has good balls, his cock is in good
working order and his ass is tight. And he looks good!"

"Those are all good points in his favour son but remember a slave's charms
aren't always obvious to the eye. Sometimes, one must probe deeper to find
them. We need to know that he can meet our demands and please us. Allow me
in finish the inspection of my slave and then, with Malik's permission,
we'll retire to a private room and test-run the two slaves. I take it you
have no objections to that Malik?"

"I have none whatsoever, Ahmedu! Both slaves are at your disposal. Just
tell me when you are ready and I'll have the overseers take them to a
private viewing suite. But tell me, Ahmedu, will you require two single
suites?  Or will you share a double suite with Abdel?"

"We'll share a room and if the flesh is willing we'll share the two slaves,
Malik." Ahmedu laughs.  "What do you say, son? Are you up for it?"

"I'm up for it if you are Dad." Abdel retorts. "But from where I'm standing
I can see you are too!"

I listen to this friendly banter between father and son and the double
entendre of Ahmedu's question - "are you up for it?"  And his son's jocular
reply isn't lost on me.  I have only to look at the tent-poling at the
front of both the Africans to know they are well and truly "up for it".

It would appear that Fin and I are about to be put to hard usage by both
the father and his son.  However, Ahmedu hasn't quite finished his
inspection of me and he instructs me to.

"Turn around and show me you ass, boy!"

Like Fin, I start to move into position to present my ass for
examination. However, before I do so Ahmedu tells me to stop. Puzzled, I do
as I am instructed while he closely inspects the site of my new brand.

"Malik, the slave's brand looks very raw. I do hope no lasting damage has
been done to him," the tone of his voice expresses Ahmedu's concerns, "and
undoubtedly, it's also quite painful."

Of course, my new brand is both excruciatingly painful and blister ugly. It
throbs with burning intensity and, "ghostlike", I still feel the branding
iron searing itself into my flesh. I remember reading once that even after
a leg is amputated one can feel the nerves tingling in the missing limb.
And that is how it is with me; I still feel the red hot pain of yesterday's
branding-iron.

"I wouldn't be overly concerned, Ahmedu. The slave hasn't been damaged in
any way. My brander is a deft hand with the branding iron. I'll grant you
it looks ugly now - but all fresh brands do till they heal. Over the next
few days a crust will form over the brand giving the flesh beneath the time
it needs to heal. Within no time the brand will show up sharp and crisp on
the slave's flank. And you are correct when you say it's painful. All
slave's fight against being branded; it's in their natures to do so.  Their
protests are futile however. It's an unfortunate consequence of slavery
that they must be branded to denote their true status. And after they are
branded, they inevitably weep and wail. As this slave did!"

"I suppose you're right, Malik! It's just that it looks so ugly against the
flawless perfection of his skin.  But as you so rightly say - all slaves
must be branded with the mark of their servitude."

Malik's comments obviously re-assure Ahmedu for he orders me to.

"Continue slave and present your ass for my inspection."

As I do so, I'm aware that Abdel has finished his examination of Fin and is
now watching his father.

I notice that Fin too is watching closely. Momentarily, our eyes meet and I
see a flicker of a supporting smile at the corners of his mouth. With a
slight nod of his head, he encourages me to co- operate.

I think back and remember what Fin had done just a few minutes ago and I
copy him. I turn to face into my cell and press my ass back hard against
the bars separating me from freedom. I move my feet apart to give me
greater balance and finally, I lean forward to open up the most private
part of my body to the African's scrutiny.

But Ahmedu still isn't satisfied and instructs me to.

"Reach behind and spread your ass cheeks, boy!"

Momentarily, my pride and embarrassment take hold of me and I
hesitate. Malik is well used to a new slave's wilfulness and he senses my
reluctance. Angrily, he rebukes me.

"You were given an order, Franj! Obey or I'll have the whip put to your
back. Obey or suffer the consequences of you disobedience."

Then he apologizes to Ahmedu.

"Allow me to offer one thousand apologies for the slave's hesitation,
Ahmedu! Do you want the miserable wretch punished?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Malik. He's a new slave and in this instance
I'll make allowance for that. But should I buy him, then rest assured
they'll be no such consideration given to him should he hesitate to obey an
order."

Malik's threat to use the whip on me fuels my new slave's fear of
punishment. I'd witnessed Anwar punishment of Sven on several occasions and
I knew of the awful pain that the cane is capable of inflicting on naked
flesh. And yesterday, I'd already felt the cane; but when compared to the
savagery of Sven's canings, I knew these were just "playful cuts" meant to
encourage me to obey and to leave me relatively unmarked for the
auction-block.

The thought of the cane frightens me but the threat of the whip absolutely
terrifies me. This fear swamps any sense of shame or humiliation I
feel. Hastily, I reach behind and take an ass-cheek in each hand and spread
them apart. However, my face burns with the heat of my shame and glows
blood scarlet from my humiliation.

The shameful spreading of my buttocks leaves me feeling very vulnerable and
I realize that I am there for Ahmedu's convenience and I must wait for his
next move. He can do as he chooses with me and I have no alternative but to
submit to his will. I wait acquiescently on his pleasure!

Slowly, the seconds tick by and each seems like a minute as I wait for
Ahmedu to begin his examination of me. I'm aware of the nervous puckering
of my sphincter as it awaits Ahmedu's probing finger and my body is covered
in a nerve induced sweating.  I think back to all those innumerable times,
when in my wild, erotic fantasies, my imagination had placed me in similar
situations. How I'd enjoyed those occasions when my orgasms had climaxed in
cataclysmic eruptions. But this isn't fantasy; this is for real and I am no
longer the slave of my fanciful dreams. I am in every sense a real slave
and soon I will belong to a real life Master rather than a make believe
one.

Given that I'd wished this upon myself so often in the past how can I now
complain when my wishful fantasy has turned into grim reality?

My feelings are very conflicted. One part of me is repulsed by what is
happening to me and yet I quiver in anticipation of what is inevitably to
follow. I am strangely drawn to this handsome, masterful man who is
inspecting me and if I am truthful I want to feel his hands exploring my
body. I wonder if this is the type of early bonding a slave feels for his
new master.

Paradoxically, I am aroused as never before. My balls are constricted
within my fear shrivelled scrotum and my cock is rock hard. And it throbs
with such delicious intensity as I wait on Ahmedu. I sense his movements
behind me and suddenly I feel his finger touching the base of my spine at
the beginning of my ass-crack.  His touch is electrifying and small volts
of pleasure surge through my body reducing me to a tingling mass of nerve
ends.

Slowly his finger moves down the deep cleft between my widely spread
buttocks and I anticipate the feel of it on the hot opening into my
body. But I am disappointed; rather than touch my eager, pulsating flesh
Ahmedu's finger ignores my quivering sphincter and instead teasingly traces
a circle around it before continuing along my perineum to my testicles. He
appraises the size, shape and density of my balls by rolling them between
his thumb and forefinger. Then, as he reaches under my belly for my cock, I
shuffle my feet further apart to give him easier access to me. This was
done without thinking on my part; it just seemed the natural thing for me
to do. He encircles the girth of my cock in a firm grasp and squeezes it to
test its thickness and rigidity. Then he begins to slide his hand up and
down its length and, at the same time, he tantalizingly teases my
piss-slit.

Apparently, Ahmedu is pleased with what he has discovered about me so far
and, as he slowly pumps my cock, he appreciatively tells Malik and Abdel.

"The slave's got nice sized, juicy balls and an iron rod for a cock. But
now it's time for me to check further."

I know to what Ahmedu refers and I brace myself for the final assault on
both my body and my dignity. I feel an exploratory finger delicately
teasing my asshole; tickling it to both excite and to relax it for a more
probing search. My body trembles and my legs sag as waves of pleasure
engulf me.

Then suddenly, without warning, Ahmedu cruelly thrusts his finger through
my clenched sphincter and begins to probe my inner depths. My audible gasp
as he does so is an indication of both my discomfort and surprise. It does
however cause Abdel to jokingly comment.

"Hey Dad! It looks as though you have a really tight pussy there judging
from all the grunting the slave is making."

"Well, Abdel, he's tight that's for sure. The slave's ass is as tight as a
drumhead and he promises to be a good fuck I should think!"

"Really, that's not surprising, Ahmedu." Malik interjects.  "From what his
owner tells me he was a virgin until yesterday when his Master, Anwar
saddle broke him for the first time. And while he's technically not a
virgin, he's also greatly under used and promises good sport for his
fortunate new owner."

"Indeed, he does, Malik. It will be a lucky man who eventually owns this
slave."

Ahmedu's finger probes deep seeking out my prostate. The initial discomfort
soon wans and I am left with the enjoyable feeling of being
finger-fucked. Waves of pleasure engulf me and involuntarily my rectal
muscles grip the invading finger in a tight grasp and seek to hungrily draw
it further into the warm recesses of my body. At the same time, I begin to
ride the finger and I'm aware that I'm thrusting my hips back and forth.

Oh, it feels good!

Momentarily, I'm oblivious to my grim surroundings or the precariousness of
my situation. These are made inconsequential by the erotic pleasures
engulfing me. I'm unaffected by the fact that Malik, his overseers, Abdel
and Finbar are watching my reactions with salacious interest. Even the
other slaves have stirred from their lethargy and are crowded against the
bars of their pens watching Ahmedu's fingering of me. Perhaps they see in
his actions something of their own futures after they are sold on Saturday.

The silence of the pens is broken by the sounds of my pleasure-filled
whimpering and my occasional grunt as the finger probes deeper into me. I
hear Ahmedu's laboured breathing and his appreciative sighs as I react
favourably to his ministrations. I hear the shuffling of naked feet against
dry straw bedding as my fellow slaves manoeuvre for a better view of
proceedings.

And above these, I hear the slurping sound Ahmedu's finger makes as it
suctions with ever- increasing urgency in and out of my eager ass-hole.

Ahmedu's hand still encircles the shaft of my cock and he continues to
masturbate me. Gradually, he synchronizes the up and down sliding movement
of his hand to the in and out thrusting of his finger.  I am rendered
helpless by this African who could soon be my Master should I please him
and he chooses to buy me. Suddenly, I want that to be the case! This man is
lifting me to heights of erotic pleasure that I'd never experienced
before. Already, in my mind, I regard Ahmedu as my Master.

With this in mind, I emulate Finbar's actions of a few minutes ago when
Abdel had inspected him. I grind my hips and I moan loudly - and
appreciatively - to indicate to Ahmedu just how much I am responding to his
ministrations.

Suddenly his finger finds it mark and as it teases my prostate, I'm swamped
by indescribable, pleasurable sensations. My knees sag and my body is
convulsed by an uncontrollable trembling. My cock throbs with a desperate
urgency and I feel the churning deep within my balls that presage an
ejaculation of Vesuvian violence.

Yet, my instincts tell me this isn't allowed; I must save my ejaculation
until later when we are alone in the privacy of the viewing suite. I fight
against the rising tide of my passion; but it is an uneven battle and one I
am doomed to lose. Suddenly, when I am almost at the point of no return,
Ahmedu withdraws his finger and reaches through the bars to playfully slap
my ass.

Obviously, Ahmedu is well-versed in how far to take a slave before it loses
control. He commands me to.

"Turn and face the front, slave!"

My obedience to his command is immediate and absolute. I am overwhelmed
with a strong desire to please this man above all else.

"Well Dad! What's your opinion of the slave?" Abdel asks his father. "Does
he measure up?"

"The slave pleases me very much Abdel! He's a fine slave."

Ahmedu's words give me hope. They encourage to reach out to him and to ask.

"Please Master, buy me?"

My words to Ahmedu are simple but sincere. They aren't so much a plea; they
are more of an expression of my new found yearning. Fate in the form of
Anwar's betrayal has delivered me into slavery. I have now accepted the
inevitable and I know there is no chance of regaining my freedom.  And like
Finbar and the other waiters I have to make the most of my situation and
instinctively I know I have pleased this man who seeks to own me.  I
consider the uncertainty of my situation; it would seem to be owned by
Ahmedu as his pleasure slave offers me the best options for the immediate
future.

Ahmedu ignores my request and turns to Malik.

"Malik, I'm very interested in these two slaves and if you are willing, my
son and I would like to test them further. Is that possible?"

"Ahmedu, all things are possible. The two slaves are at your disposal and
I'm sure they'll not disappoint you and Abdel.  Allow me to organize their
removal to a viewing suite and while that is being done can I offer you and
Abdel some refreshment - a cooling sherbet and honeyed figs perhaps?"

"Malik, you are a most gracious host and we accept your kind offer of
refreshments."

"Then let us retire to my private quarters and allow my overseers to
transfer the slaves to a viewing suite for your closer inspection!"


To be continued......


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