Date: Tue, 30 Oct 2007 14:59:40 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: FULFILLING THE FANTASY - Chapter 16

FULFILLING THE FANTASY XVI

By Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)


     Bonthe, the port city in Sierra Leone the Fantasia anchored some
distance off-shore (due to silting up of its once deep harbor), required
tendering into the dilapidated area once making up the docks. Like the rest
of the country, the place had fallen into rack and ruin following the
disastrous civil war and little rebuilding was evident so far.  Of course,
it was the civil war that made the slave markets here full to overflowing
with a vast variety of goods of every age, gender, and physique imaginable
- all at clearance prices.

     Although Mark and John both had bought more than enough slaves already
to ensure unbelievable personal fortunes once they got home, they couldn't
resist looking over what was available in this war-torn country on the West
Coast of Africa. The Fantasia's cargo hold still had room for a few more
holdings, and the prices were rumored to be unbelievably low, so desperate
the economy for foreign currency at this point.

     The port lecturer had certainly warned the Fantasia's guests to be
extraordinarily cautious in purchasing anything in Sierra Leone.

     First, most dealers made no guarantees whatsoever in that they usually
had no idea where their stock was coming from.  Most stock was simply
bought from warlords and generals and most were captives of war somewhere
along the line.  Other stock were orphans swept up off the streets
periodically by the government and then sold off to dealers at auction or
prison or mental hospital inmates which the government no longer wanted to
feed. Bred stock, where blood lines could be traced and slave training had
begun at birth, weren't available in Sierra Leone.  The country was too
war-torn to make such long term investment schemes viable. The end result
was a bunch of rabble, prisoners-of-war, and defeated mercenaries almost
totally unsorted, uncategorized, and certainly untrained to their slavery.

     Second, diseased stock was a distinct possibility.  Antibiotic
resistant tuberculosis was pandemic in the population, AIDS was evident in
40% of the population, HIV-Positive status was detectable in about 70% of
the population, and 15% had acute syphilis.  On top of that, chorea,
malaria, and meningitis plagued many in the population, especially the
young where symptoms were often right beneath the surface, often
temporarily dormant in the bodies of slaves they would be looking at.
Almost all slaves in Sierra Leone had impacted worms and intestinal
parasites of one type or another, picking them up in the horrifically
filthy slave pens in which they were kept.  Since most of these conditions
were highly contagious, the Fantasia was forced to impose certain
restrictions on Sierra Leone purchases: all slaves purchased could not be
loaded into the cargo hold until passing a medical examination (at the
purchasers expense) conducted by the ship's veterinarian and getting a
clean bill of health before boarding.  A series of tents would be set up on
the dock for this purpose and the health inspection fee, including numerous
blood tests, would be at least $100 per slave examined.  Those not passing
the inspection would not be boarded and the purchaser was responsible for
either returning them to the dealer (who most likely would not take them
back) or disposing of them with several other options in an attempt to
minimize their loss: (1) selling them to a pet food processor conveniently
located near the slave dealer's stations where the slave's body would be
"sterilized" and then ground up for animal food; (2) selling them to a
multinational pharmaceutical company for drug experimentation whose
purchasing agent was flying in for the day; (3) selling them to a company
specializing in the production of extreme S&M shows featuring real-life
"snuff" scenes; or (4) selling them to a local "waste management" officer
who would simply kill them at the edge of the town dump where jackals and
vultures did their job in disposing of the body in short order. Therefore,
a slave not passing the medical exam would cost them the $100 examination
fee as well as a possible additional fee for waste disposal. Local
purchases should take these factors into account before any deal was
finalized.

     Third, purchasers should be aware of the problems totally untrained
stock could present over the long haul, no matter how cheap to purchase
initially.  Acclimation to permanent slave status might take months, no
matter how much you starved and beat the newly purchased stock.  Even the
most severe punishments for non-compliant behavior had their limitations
and the human body, no matter how strong at the time of purchase, could
only tolerate so much pain and suffering.  Severe food, water, and sleep
deprivation were effective - yes - but in prolonged use had the risk of
damaging the very goods you bought. Sex deprivation increased drive and
frustration, but sometimes drove slaves berserk in the process, especially
if slaves were kept constantly stimulated without any means of relief.
Castration of male slaves made them more easily controllable, but greatly
reduced their value in that they could no longer be used for breeding a
profitable new batch of ready-made slaves.  All in all, purchasers of 'new'
slaves should count on a good six months of training time before the
purchase would be fully productive, totally compliant without supervision,
and completely adjusted to this new status in life. Resale prices of 'new'
slaves reflected all of these considerations.

     The lecturer concluded that unless the stock was extremely low priced,
exceptionally handsome or skilled, and appeared to be in the best of health
with a suburb physique, it would probably be wise to pass them by.  If you
did buy any stock here in Sierra Leone, pay no more than you can afford to
lose if the slave doesn't pass the physical and must be disposed of, is not
worth the cost of the medical examination, and realizing the slave will
probably not be productive as a full slave for at least six months.  In
addition, IF the slave does pass the physical, there will be additional
charges for de-worming them in quarantine conditions, circumcising them
(practically all male slaves being sold were uncircumcised here),
castrating those males excessively aggressive or unruly, and fitting them
with appropriate control devices (such as nose rings, tit rings, genital
bands, and even genital piercing) - all of which would greatly enhance the
intense training these purchases would need to make decent slaves out of
them, but all of which would add to the costs.

     "Unless you think you can sell a slave for at least 10 to 15 thousand
once he is fully trained and totally compliant, and assuming you pay no
more than $500 for them to start with, you probably aren't going to make
much money on a Sierra Leone purchase.  The risks are just too great."

     "Not too encouraging," John sighed as the lecture ended.  "I've sort
of lost my enthusiasm for purchasing much here."

     "You and me both," Mark replied.  "But we don't have much else to do.
I'll take a look anyway - besides, I've never been to Sierra Leone and
probably will never be back. I'd like to at least see what the major port
city looks like and just how filthy those slave pens really are."

     The major slave markets were just a few blocks from what had once been
a prosperous dock area and was an easy walk from the tender boats bringing
them from the Fantasia.  No directional markers were needed once they
landed - the stench of thousands of slaves cramped into tiny holding pens,
mixed with the screams and groans of recalcitrant slaves being severely
disciplined and the moans and sighs of slaves having every part of their
naked bodies being brusquely examined , certainly marked the area set aside
for the selling of human bodies on a wholesale scale.

     The market was a make-shift affair set up sensibly but crudely.  Naked
slaves were crammed into holding pens behind each dealer's stand.  Up
front, on display, were a variety of the best each dealer had to offer -
each body rigidly chained to a "display" post in a fashion to best display
his or her bodily attributes.  Dealers and handlers were easily
identifiable - they were the only ones with clothes on and most carried a
bull whip in one hand and a truncheon in the other.  The truncheon was not
only employed frequently for immediate corrective discipline (without
marking the body permanently) but was also employed to point out and
emphasize the slave's bodily attributes (such as lifting their balls and
penises up for a potential customer's inspection) without having to
actually touch the slave.  Slaves proving uncooperative in advocating their
own sale found the bull whip across their back in short order - an event
which produced a lot of blood on the slave's back and rump and the numerous
crawling flies that always swarmed around such rich offerings.

     John and Mark walked slowly through the entire market acclimating to
the horrible stench of the place and adjusting to the screams of agony and
anguish that penetrated the air with each new crack of the whip or the
slash of yet another truncheon on bare flesh. There were no facilities for
the slaves to meet their elimination needs.  Therefore, they were forced to
defecate in place and just urinated standing up.  Shit was all over their
backsides and legs, and most walked around in a pool of human waste, shit
oozing up between their toes as they shuffled through the pens.  Those on
display usually had a pile of their own shit at their feet or running down
their legs - no one thought it necessary to unchain a slave so he or she
could keep themselves clean.  Most of the slaves looked desperately hungry,
wild with fear, yet despairingly passive as their bodies were probed,
stroked, poked, and prodded into meeting any one of a hundred of
prospective buyers' demands. Female slaves' nipples were raw and swollen
from the constant squeezing they endured; male slaves' pricks were chafed
and dripping from being stroked into constant erection.  Vaginas and
assholes were explored along with teeth, head hair, ears, men's tits and
balls, and females' clitorises and breasts. Flies, maggots, lice, and worms
were everywhere, often crawling over the slave's bodies who were unable to
swat them away due to having their hands invariably shackled behind their
backs or fastened to their heavy collars and their feet closely hobbled.

     Central to the whole operation was a huge "transfer" pen located at
the back of the city's slave pens. When John and Mark asked what this pen
was for, it was explained by a bystander that here was where slaves who had
died while in the dealer's pens were unceremoniously dumped, their bodies
now covered with flies. The bystander went on to expalin that they were
joined by slaves too weak and sickly to stand for purchasers' inspections
any more, slaves unsalable due to visible marks of disease, and those too
old and worn out to be worth feeding anymore.  Those not dead wailed in
anguish, he explained, with what little strength they had left or simply
stared into space blankly, knowing they were headed toward the city's
'processor" next - a municipal service (one of the last still operating)
which took this human flotsam and ground it up into fertilizer or, more
likely, into dyhydrated slave feed after being boiled to kill the diseases
racking their bodies so the disease wouldn't be transferred to those eating
the dry slave chow.  For those still living, they were not killed prior to
being fed to the boilers - it had been discovered they tasted better if
they were processed while still alive at the beginning of the process.

      John asked, "Do the slaves still alive in this pen know their fate?"

     "Of course," the bystander answered casually.  "All slavesin Sierra
Leone know every detail of this grisly operation from the time they had
been enslaved. It's why slaves will do most anything to get themselves sold
when given a chance.  Keeps a slave motivated and interested in the sales
process if nothing else," he smiled.

     John and Mark reflected on the bystander's comments.  It was no wonder
those alive in the pen were stultified with despair, screaming with their
last ounce of energy as they contemplated being boiled alive imminently.

     "One thing is for sure," John commented, obviously realizing as a
dealer such conditions often accompanied any slave system if culls were to
be effectively weeded out prior to marketing.  "These slaves would have to
have the best immune systems in the world or they wouldn't be alive under
these conditions. See anything interesting?"

     "Not yet," Mark responded.  "I wonder if all this stinking meat is as
cheap as we've heard?  John, I don't think I can take the stench much
longer without getting sick and puking all over myself.  I think I'll head
back to the ship.  You'll shop around without me tagging along, won't you,
John?"

     John was about to answer he was ready to return to the ship himself
when both he and Mark stopped dead in their tracks.

     "God Almighty!" both exclaimed in unison.

     Chained to a display post about 30 feet in front of them, stood the
most magnificent display of raw male sexuality either of them had ever
seen.  The body being exhibited stood about 6'4" tall, was a mass of
beautifully sculptured muscle from his neck to his feet, had skin as smooth
and even as creamed cocoa, a face that featured large bright green eyes,
thick long black lashes, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw line highlighted
by a straight Grecian nose and thin lips shaped into a singular look of
total acceptance of his absolute sensuality without a hint of arrogance.
Below his thick, muscular neck, his physique was perfection.  Pecs puffy
but not obscene; tits begging to be kneaded; a waist so narrow it was
wasp-like; abdominal muscles that looked like bricks laid in a neat row.
Below his waist, his thighs were like artistically shaped tree trunks; his
calves rounded and full; his feet Grecian in their elegance.  His butt was
well rounded, set high, but totally muscular.  Between his legs resided the
epitome of his maleness: large round pendulous balls dangling well between
his legs like a bull; a huge uncircumcised penis whose thickness and
length, as well as its smooth tubular shape, looked like a fire hose.  His
shaft hung as low as his balls, snaking down his leg almost to his knees.
The entire body was practically hairless with only a few wisps of hair
around the balls and above the prick.

     "How long is that monster?" John exclaimed.  "My God.  It's the
biggest thing I've ever seen on a human and he's not even hard."

     "Those balls are big enough to be on a bull," Mark added. "If he
wasn't so incredibly pretty, I'd swear he wasn't human."

     The dealer wasn't so awestruck, however.

     "You want to see the slave aroused?" the grungy looking dealer asked
as he reached for the slave's prick and began stroking.  The slave whose
equipment was being roughly massaged only moaned softly and briefly glanced
at the two prospective purchasers.  Within a minute, the massive prick had
grown three inches more in circumference and was four inches longer as it
swiftly filled out to a full erection.  "Fourteen inches when he's got it
all the way up the last time I measured the bastard.  And six inches around
him as I guess you figured out since I can't get my hand all the way around
it when it's fully erect like this.  Quite a piece of equipment, rarely
seen even in pure Mandingos like this one.  Relatively rare here in Sierra
Leone.  Captured somewhere up around the Burkina Faso border probably -
that's where you start to run into Mandingos.  Mandingos are usually the
big slave owners - you don't often see them for sale as slaves themselves
like this boy here.  But for those Mandingos that do end up as slaves for
one reason or another, typically they make damn fine slaves once they are
broken to the reality - they end up loyal to their masters, smart, and easy
to manage.  But, no matter what, you can never take their pride in being a
Mandingo out of them.  They are always proud of their bodies, whether
master or slave, and, as you can appreciate yourself, they've got a reason
for that pride.  Some body on this boy, don't you agree?"

     "Yes," both Mark and John said simultaneously.

     "Do you guarantee him to be disease free and fully healthy?" John
asked, mindful of the medical inspection required of every purchase he
might make here.

     "Take him to any doctor you want and if he doesn't pass their muster,
bring him back and I'll return every penny you paid for the slave," the
dealer answered confidently.

     "How much?" Mark asked, catching himself before reaching forward and
hefting the slave's huge balls, his normal procedure in examining a
prospective purchase. Instead, not wanting to touch anything in this
diseased place, he simply pointed to the slave's equipment as he caught
John's attention.

     "Can you imagine him with his prick properly trimmed, his balls banded
with a real thick clinch to pull them up from between his legs and propping
that huge prick out so it was constant display, some big rings through
those big, meaty tits, and that thick neck surrounded with a tall, heavy
slave collar with leash rings?" John asked breathlessly, obviously
envisioning the slave fitted out this way already.

     "This slave might also look good with a ring through the head of his
prick for leashing and to prevent him jerking off whenever he wanted.  And
a ring through those quivering nostrils might be a nice touch!  A nose ring
is always good when training a free-born like this." Mark added, feeling
himself rapidly getting hard just looking at the slave.

     "$1000 U.S. dollars," the dealer interjected, "guaranteed free of
disease."  He quickly looked both men directly in the eye to see if they
were offended by such a high price for a slave.  He continued stroking the
slave to make sure the huge erection remained on full display.

     John saw a worm crawling up the leg of the slave being examined.
Looking down, he saw where it was coming from.  The slave was forced to
stand in a pile of his own shit and he was obviously infested with worms
despite his look of glowing health.

     "Jesus, Mark." John said disgustedly.  This whole place is disgusting.
What in God's name are two grown men, both rich enough to never have to
work another day in our lives, doing in a pigsty like this watching
intestinal worms clawing up the legs of a slave out of his own fresh shit?
Lord Almighty, we should be enjoying our suite on the ship having a nice
cold cocktail with a nice totally clean sweet-smelling slave boy sucking us
off, not standing here in a pile of shit watching worms crawl over some
slave meat.  We must be nuts!"

     "Or addicted to slave meat," Mark said, "especially meat like this.
But you're right, John.  We must be nuts!  It's not like we don't have any
good looking slave meat available to us any time we want."

     Turning to the dealer, he shot back "$400 for the slave and you're
lucky to get anything for him, choked with worms as he is.  And only if he
passes the medical examination my own doctor will run on him at the tent
down on the dock."

     "$500 and the Mandingo boy is yours," the dealer countered.

     "$500 it is IF the slave proves to be healthy over and above the
disgusting worms eating him up," Mark replied.  "I won't touch the slave
until my doctor has looked him over and declared him disease-free.  Take
him down to the white tent set up on the dock and turn the slave over to
the doctors there.  If they give their approval, I will pay you the $500 in
U.S. currency.  If they reject the slave, you are responsible for taking
him back to your filthy pens or disposing of him to one of several disposal
agents outside the white tent who may be willing to give you $50 or so for
his diseased body, whichever you prefer.

     The dealer promptly placed a rope noose around the slave's neck,
tightened it until the slave choked for lack of air, and then unchained the
slave from his display post, keeping his hands shackled behind his back and
his feet hobbled.  With the rope noose serving as a leash in one hand, his
other hand grabbed a short whip resembling a riding crop.  With a vicious
slash of the whip across the slave's back, the Mandingo howled in pain and
moved swiftly in the direction he was pulled by his leash.

     John and Mark swiftly left the stinking market and took an alternate
route to the medical tent, not wishing to following the shit-covered slave
and his crawling worms they were interested in purchasing.

     "Who's actually buying him if he checks out OK?" John asked.  "You or
me?"

     "I am at $500 plus the $100 medical fee.  Once cleansed of all his
disgusting worms and once he takes to all the exact training he's going to
have, he'll be worth at least one million back in the U.S.  Wouldn't you
pay that to have him as a willing bed buck?" Mark laughed.

     "Well, yes, but not if I could have bought him originally for $500,"
John said, rather hurt.

     "Oh, John, I was just teasing.  We'll buy him jointly if he passes the
exam. $250 each including the doctor's fees and each of us will own 50% of
him.  You want the top or bottom half?" Mark laughed
uproariously. "Seriously, eventually, with a lot of training and
conditioning, he'll bring at least $1 million at your dealership to a buyer
who wants the best for his bed.  Let's see - say it takes $150 to fit him
out with some bodily control devices; another $500 in special training
costs on the ship; $350 to get a good circumcision on him along with his
tit and genital piercing, and another $900 cost in special diet to get him
dewormed and back in top shape with a special diet, that's $600 + 150 + 500
+350 + 900.  That $2500 total investment selling for 1 million.  That's a
profit of $999,997,250 split two ways or, let's see, $499,998, 625 each
pure profit.  Not bad for an hour's trip to the worst smelling hell hole
I've ever seen!"

     "I can see why no one ever cheats you, Mark," John laughed.  "You're
so quick with figures you should be the slave dealer, not me."

     "With me, slaves are just an interesting hobby," Mark laughed, "not a
livelihood like it is for you, my good friend."

     "More like an obsession if you ask me," John countered.

     "Whatever," Mark laughed.  "Speaking of obsessions, while our
'investment' is being trained, there's no reason we shouldn't enjoy his
body occasionally, is there?"

     "No reason I can think of," John doubled up with laughter.  "In fact,
it might speed up the training considerably."

******************

     The Mandingo slave was handed over to the white-coated rubber gloved
medical team who had their own slaves administered three thorough enemas
and then hose him down - all with high powered hoses so they didn't have to
touch him.  They then scrubbed him thoroughly top to bottom with a harsh
antiseptic detergent before turning him over to the medics who X-rayed his
lungs for pneumonia, tuberculosis, or other lung diseases, drew blood to
test for syphilis, HIV and/or AIDS, malnourishment, other bacterial or
viral diseases, X-rayed his stomach and intestines to study the worm
infestation, and took samples of every body fluid, including saliva, tears,
and sperm. The slave was physically examined as well, testing for muscular
or neural abnormalities, skin diseases, sexual arousal, vision, hearing,
responsiveness, eye-hand coordination, and other tests of neural
functioning. Since all the testing equipment was portable from the ship's
infirmary, results could be quickly obtained.  The slave tested negative
for tuberculosis, HIV and AIDS, all other lung, neural, and intestinal
diseases, and was found to have no abnormal bacterial or viral conditions.
He functioned well above average in all neural, sexual, muscular, visual
and hearing tests.  The only thing they could find wrong with the slave's
health was a mild case of vitamin deficiency due to poor diet (which could
be easily treated) and impaction with both stomach and intestinal worms (a
condition which could be rectified with a five-day severe but highly
effective chemical dosing procedure.)  He could easily be circumcised or
even castrated with no foreseeable complications and genital, ear, or tit
piercings would present no problems if antibiotic dressing were employed.
If we chose to purchase the slave, he would have to be quarantined in the
ship's special isolation facility for the five-days of his worm treatment
so his condition would not spread to any existing stock.  But any
piercings, body trimmings or alterations could be done in that period so
the healing could start immediately, along with vitamin therapy to overcome
recent malnourishment problems. The deworming procedure would be hard on
the slave, they warned, in that a variety of very powerful poisons were
administered in both forced feedings and forced enemas. He could be
expected to loose almost 20 pounds in the process due to severe dyhydration
and inability to process food during the five days of deworming treatment
and the slave would probably be convinced he was being poisoned to death
during the treatment process. But once freed of the worm infestation, he
would quickly regain his weight and be forever grateful to any new master
that took the time and trouble to bring him back from an almost certain
death if left back in the dealer's pens untreated..

     We immediately paid the slimy dealer his $500 who went happily on his
way, and wrote the following with a grease pencil on the freshly washed
slave's back: "Clean circumcision, genital piercing with 3" chrome ring
through head below slit; both tits pierced with 3"chrome ring; neck
collared with 4" tall chrome collar welded shut and fitted just loose
enough to breath without difficulty with leash rings on all four sides of
collar; genitals banded with 3" thick band that insures balls do not hang
but instead serve to push shaft out and forward for maximum protrusiveness
- genitals should be fitted tight to body and thrust forward so balls are
not between legs and do not swing. Wrists and ankles fitted with bands
welded shut. Right ear pierced with ownership tag listing owners name,
address, and reward notice. Slave branded with ownership mark (on file) on
right pectoral and left butt."  We then signed our names on the slave's
hide so the handlers would know who the owners were and who should be
billed for all of these services.  All of these instructions covered the
slave's back, his frontside, as well as his butt as he was led off to a
special small slave tender to be transported immediately, along with two
other slaves that had been purchased following their medical clearance, to
the Fantasia's hold where the first of the administered poisons would
quickly cause unbelievably painful cramping, indicating the pesky parasites
in the magnificent slave's body were already beginning to struggle in their
death throes.

     Two other slaves, tentatively 'purchased' by other passengers aboard
the Fantasia, were being examined as the Mandingo slave was shuttled to the
nearest transport, his hide covered in instructions.  Unfortunately, they
were quickly found to be suffering from AIDS and would not be allowed on
board the Fantasia.  Both passengers sold their rejected slaves to a nearby
processor: one was sold to a firm who would ship him to Switzerland where a
drug company they represented would harvest his corneas (not affected by
the disease) and then would shoot him, now totally blind, full of untested
vaccines and study his reactions, often very harsh and painful, until he
eventually died of their experimentation, long before the disease itself
overtook him. The other slave, more advanced with the disease, was simply
chocked to death by a gigantic slave kept around by the firm for that very
purpose and then his limp body was thrown into a container containing
slaves' bodies destined for the giant grinders at the local fertilizer
plant.

     This one purchase in Sierra Leone was enough for both John and Mark
who had no desire to visit any more slave markets here.  But they did want
to see a little bit of the country itself.

     They joined a small group of other passengers for a bus tour of the
nation's capitol, several miles from the port city.  The bus was old and
unairconditioned but clean enough and the local guide spoke English well
enough to be understood. Everywhere along the route into the capitol city,
the passengers could see the results of the civil war - most buildings were
damaged and unrepaired, many of the natives suffered loss of legs, hands,
and arms, roads were bombed out requiring constant detouring, and
electrical lines were lying on the ground, obviously not in use for some
time.  Other than small food shops, most stores were boarded up and closed.
About the only thing for sale was gasoline in quart jars, ricks of wood for
cooking, and chained slaves in the thousands - everything from infants to
aging adults were offered for little more than the price of a candy bar
back in the U.S.  Most slaves were thin and haggard from lack of food, all
were naked which only emphasized their malnutrition and the many whip scars
on their bodies, and practically none of them, save a few of the late
teenagers and young adults, had any appeal whatsoever. There seemed to be
more slaves than non-slaves - at least what could be seen out of the bus
windows.  Of course, all work was done by slaves since they were so
plentiful, so it wasn't surprising that's about all you saw out on the
streets. Once in the city itself, the buildings were unanimously in
disrepair along with the streets, the sewers were obviously not working any
longer judging from the stench, and the carcasses of slaves and other
animals, beaten or starved to death, were simply left where they dropped
until the vultures picked their bones clean as their flesh putrefied.  The
guide tried to make the most of it, pointing out the many exotic birds
indigenous to Sierra Leone, the many tropical flowers profuse everywhere,
and the life of leisure possible for the few wealthy still left due to the
easy availability of slaves to do all of the work at the lowest costs
imaginable. But even he was distressed by the constant stench of rotting
bodies, the sight of screaming slaves, most of them native Sierra Leoneans
being beat to death as the last ounce of strength was extracted from their
worn bodies before being abandoned to the vultures, and the lack of any
infrastructure left.  After seeing the dilapidated capital, the shelled
presidential palace, and now roofless 'cultural centre' and the remnants of
a few museums, the guide headed the bus back to the port city with a plea
for a job in the U.S.  By the time we got back to the tender to take us to
the Fantasia, not one tour member tipped him, insulted by his tiresome
pleas for a job and his obvious lack of any talent, even as a tour guide.
One guest went to far as to bluntly tell him he couldn't make it in the
U.S. as a slave, let along a person for hire.  Everyone in the group agreed
with that assessment.

     The tender delivered us back to the cool airconditioning and a
welcoming drink aboard the Fantasia, an entirely different world than the
realities of Sierra Leone. Even the single new purchase in the Fantasia's
hold being dewormed, branded, pierced, collared, banded, circumcised,
knowing full well he was now entering a life where he would be likely be
little more than a mere sex toy for his new owners - his body purchased to
be fucked regularly, expected to suck his new masters off with enthusiasm,
and have his beautiful body played with constantly to amuse his new owners
- even with his magnificent body mutilated, branded, pierced, and banded to
suit the whim of his new young masters, the Mandingo slave still gave
thanks to all the gods his people worshiped.  He was grateful he was no
longer in the slave pens of Sierra Leona, being consumed with the putrid
worms, pawed over constantly by every stinking passerby, whipped and abused
constantly by the slimy dealer selling him.  The gods favored him with good
fortune - he had been purchased by two young foreigners who lived on this
beautiful ship and would make sure he lived and would prosper. He suspected
he was purchased to be resold in some foreign land and most likely he would
be resold, like he had just been sold, for the pleasure his body could
bring his owners, whoever they might be.  But what a small price to pay for
getting out of those stinking slave pens where he knew he was dying.  His
new owners were his saviors and he would view them that way forever.  Being
a slave to them was a small price to pay for his life. To leave Sierra
Leone under ANY circumstances was better than staying there.

******************

     Tony, the Italian steward slave assigned to their suite, was waiting
for his two masters the minute they returned with a cold drink in his hand
and his naked body aroused and waiting to please them anyway they wanted.

     Both men were ready for a little action after seeing all that naked
slave flesh all day. Mark wanted to be sucked; John wanted to fuck.  Both
could be accommodated at the same time.  Within two minutes, the handsome
steward was on his hands and wide-spread knees and had both his holes
stuffed full and listened to his users moaning in their contentment with
his services.  He smiled to himself - once again, he felt needed and
secure.  No need to worry about potential competition from the new Sierra
Leone purchase they had been excitedly talking about when they first
entered the room - he'd worry about that later!

TO BE CONTINUED

Comments welcomed.  Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)