Date: Sun, 19 Aug 2007 14:41:23 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: FULFILLING THE FANTASY - Chap. 6 (Authoritarian)
FULFILLING THE FANTASY VI
By Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
"How do you like the trip so far, Mark?" John asked his friend as they
strolled the deck of the luxury ship Fantasia on the long trip from Surinam
to the little known southernmost port of Brazil.
"So far, so good," Mark replied. "I really like this ship, as you
know. That Italian slave assigned to serve as our personal room steward is
a real treat in my opinion, and, of course, the ports are all new and
different. But John, I think the thing I like best, compared to all the
other cruises I've taken, is we never go where there are tourists clogging
the sights and ruining the native charm. On the down side, the heat and
humidity in Surinam almost did me in. No wonder they have to keep a whip
on those slaves all the time," he laughed. "Those slave boys we bought
there who are sweating their balls off caged down in the ship's hold are
the lucky ones if you ask me, John. We'll soon cross the equator and then
it will start cooling down a bit. I just hope those new purchases don't
catch cold when the temperature gets under 110 down there," he
chuckled. "And you, John, is it what you expected?"
"Better," John replied. "The food is better than I thought it would
be; the service in the dining hall is a rare treat for me at least; I too
like fucking that hot Italian slave attached to our room; and - so far -
the markets we've visited have offered exactly what the International Slave
Dealers Associaton promised: good variety, cheap prices, and generally high
quality. It's fun for me, as a dealer, to visit the major sources first
hand. Gives me a better understanding of the market in general."
"You miss the tourist crowd?" Mark asked.
"Hardly, Mark," John laughed. "Besides, tourists would only up the
prices - they always do! We've got several days at sea to get to the next
port, Mark. What do you say we cool down some of our purchases sweating
away down in that hold?"
"Good idea. I can't think of a better way to while away the time,"
Mark laughed. "Soon as we get back to the room, I'll have our hot Italian
boy go down and rescue that mixed blood black and Asian boy I bought
yesterday in Surinam. He started bucking on me the minute I started
stroking him - should be ever more eager out of the heat."
"I'm really in the mood for another go at our steward, Mark, but I'll
have him bring up a pure black boy I bought in Haiti for a little variety."
Twenty minutes later, the Italian slave had retrieved the two
requested slaves from the hold, had them cleaned inside and out, freshly
shaved and lubricated, and then prepared himself in like fashion. Mark
fucked his Surinam boy who got so excited he spurted all over the bed
sheets the minute Mark was all the way up his ass, but then settled down,
proving to be most satisfactory. John had the Haitian slave suck him off
while he toyed with the slave's large tits and then, just for the novelty,
pumped a huge load out of the slave's massive genitals who was so grateful
he repeatedly kissed his master's cum-drenched hands before licking the
mess up. With that, they ordered the slaves to kneel in the corner after
they had both cleansed themselves inside and out in the suite's bathroom to
await further use if their masters so desired.
John beckoned the Italian slave to lie on the bed between his two
masters so they could play with his body while they were recovering from
usage of the slaves he had brought up from the hold. Mark played with the
Italian's ringed tits; John seemed more interested in squeezing his large
balls and then running his index finger in and out of the boy's taut
greased hole.
"Where did the cruise line buy you?" Mark asked the slave as he began
sucking on one of the boy's nipples.
"In Libya, master," the Italian slave answered humbly.
"Libya? I thought you were Italian!" Mark retorted.
"I am, master, but my father was an executive for an Italian oil
company located in Libya and my whole family lived there - I was born, like
all my brothers and sisters, in Libya, master."
"Then you weren't born a slave?" Mark continued.
"No, master. When the Libyan government nationalized the oil fields,
they executed all of the expatriates working there and enslaved all their
children."
"How old were you when you were enslaved?" Mark probed, moving his
mouth over to the other succulent tit.
"Almost 17, master. My brothers and sisters and I were all sent to a
slave training camp far out in the desert for six months and then we were
all sold at auction. The cruise line that owns the Fantasia bought me and
shipped me to this ship where I've been ever since, master," the Italian
replied without remorse or bitterness.
"Your brothers and sisters were also bought by the cruise line?"
"No, master. I don't know who they were sold to. I was the first to
be sold in that I was the oldest."
"Oh," I said, knowing children were traded around just like adult
slaves, although, of course, they were much cheaper. "So you've been a
room steward ever since, slave?" John entered the conversation, seeing I
couldn't talk much sucking the boy's tits.
"No, master," the Italian replied, wiggling his ass around a little as
he squeezed the long finger pumping his hole. "I've had to work up to this
position, master," he said proudly, gasping slightly as John rammed his
finger in full length and twisted it around in the boy's rectum.
"How so?" John asked.
"Master, first I was a baggage slave handling all the guest's luggage
and all the material in the holds. But when some the guests began
requesting me to service them, I was promoted to the dining room, master.
I worked in dining service for about three or four months, master, until
there was an opening for a room steward and I got assigned to this
room. I've been lucky enough to keep my assignment here ever since,
master," the slave replied as John's fingering kept him quivering hard and
now he was beginning to drip copiously in response to both the prostate and
tit massage.
"You are lucky, compared to those two slaves kneeling over the corner
who sweat it out caged in the hold most of the time," Mark added as he
moved his mouth over to the other tit again.
"Yes, master," the Italian slave said sincerely. "Very lucky."
"When you were a baggage slave, where did they keep you?" John asked.
"Down on the bottom deck, master, are the quarters for the ship's
slaves. We're caged separately down there with our wrists shackled to our
collars so there is no way we can get any sexual relief . That way, we are
always 'ready' if a guest wants to use us. But we do have a common shower
and toilet area. They can cage 1000 of us on that one deck alone, master,
in that little space is wasted. All the staff, except for the room
stewards, are kept there, master - the deck hands, the maintenance boys,
the slaves for the engine and electrical room, the dining room staff, the
cooks, the bartenders, the cleaners, the cargo handlers, the painters - all
the slaves a ship needs to run properly, master."
"Is it air-conditioned, slave?" John inquired.
"There aren't any windows down there, master, so it is air-conditioned
a little, but not nearly as cool as the guests' rooms, of course. Just
enough to keep us from stinking too much. They always make us shower before
we're around any guests, master, but it's a lot better than the hold where
they are storing the new purchases. There, they don't care how much you
stink," the slave laughed. Still, master, when you get 1000 bodies all in
one big room, caged or not, things get a little smelly, but you quickly get
used to it. It's certainly much, much better than some slave pens back in
Libya while I was being trained at the slave camp, master. I never heard
any slave down there complain."
"It's not a slave's role to complain," John said sternly. "That would
take unbelievable gall and should lead to some swift and corrective
punishment I would imagine."
"Of course, master," the Italian slave agreed as John's finger began
fucking him furiously while Mark, taking a respite from his sucking of the
slave's tits, encompassed the Italians's balls and gently kneaded them with
one hand while he played with the boy's tit rings with the other. "I'm
sure, master, most slaves appreciate the accommodations on the ship
compared to the slave pens elsewhere."
"I would think they would," John said sharply as he removed his finger
from the slave's butt and began inserting his large prick up the Italian's
stretched hole.
"Were you a virgin when they drug you out to the slave training camp?"
Mark asked.
"No, master," the slave giggled. "My family owned two black slaves - a
male and a female that they planned to breed eventually, master. But we all
had full access to them, so since I was 13 I was fucking both of them
regularly, master."
"Did your father know you were using them like that?" Mark continued.
"Well, I know my dad did, master. He was fucking both of them
himself, of course, and when I was 12 started encouraging me to use them -
said it was part of growing up and would keep me calmed down. Besides, he
said, it was good for the slaves." The Italian slave smiled at the
remembrance. "He used to say, master, that a good fucking reminded slaves
they weren't there just to eat him out of house and home."
Mark chuckled at the remembered remark as the slave's balls he was
churning in his hands began wiggling around a bit as John began pumping the
boy's ass. "I suppose you're being reminded of that right now," Mark
laughed.
"Yes, master," the Italian chuckled as John drove even deeper into
him.
"Were you fucked much when you were a baggage handler, slave?" Mark
said, getting interested in the ship's operations.
"Once a week, if all of us hadn't caused any trouble and we worked
really hard, we were allowed to fuck each other for an hour," the slave
answered. "And, occasionally, one of the guests would take a fancy to us
watching us work and would request us in their bed when it was convenient.
But, master, that wasn't very often because the guests don't see the
baggage slaves much. They generally work when most people are sleeping,
master." Mark's ball churning was having results in that the slave was
beginning to leak cum profusely all over Mark's hands.
"Did you like being a dining room attendant?" Mark asked as John was
completely caught up in his fucking of the boy by this time.
"Yes, master. It was a lot better than being a baggage slave because
we got to shoot off a lot more than just once a week or so. A lot of the
guests are into that "sauce" idea and so dining room slaves get milked a
lot, as you know, master. Getting off that way was a great relief, master,
since we were never allowed to shoot off any other way and we all
appreciated serving the guests in that way, even if, sometimes, you got
milked three times in one meal - then you got a little sore, but it was
worth it, master. Besides, I didn't mind sucking the guests off under the
table all the time. What most people don't realize is that if you're down
on your knees sucking someone off, you're not required to do any work at
the time. I liked having all those unscheduled breaks from having to wait
table, master, and carry all those heavy platters back and forth from the
kitchen, master. When a guest motioned he wanted a good sucking, we slaves
practically dove under the table to be the first chosen because if you
weren't you got stuck with all the serving duties yourself."
"What if I wanted to bring a dining room attendant back to my room,
slave?" John asked, panting a little from his efforts driving his shaft in
and out of the boy's ass.
"That's easy, master. Just ask the head waiter for a leash and after
dinner, when you're ready, you just hook the leash to the slave's collar
and take him back to the room with you. When you're through with him,
he'll find his way back to the dining hall quickly enough and he'll love
you for choosing him for usage." The Italian slave giggled again. "When
the guests are fucking him, he doesn't have to wait tables - it's sort of
an unexpected vacation for him, master."
"Did everyone ever leash you in the dining hall, slave" Mark asked,
the slave's oozing cum running through his fingers as he continued his ball
kneading.
"Many times, master," the slave smiled broadly. "That's why they
picked me to be a room steward the minute an opening occurred, master.
They'd heard good reports from the guests about my servicing them in their
own beds. That's what it takes to get to be a room steward," he said
proudly as he backed his butt down firmly all the way on John's shaft and
clamped his butt muscles tightly to squeeze the shaft embedded in him. "If
you don't really satisfy the guests in bed, master, you end up waiting
tables all your life."
"Having a hot body that's about as sexy as it gets doesn't hurt,
slave," John said as he stiffened and emptied a full load into the slave.
"Yes, master," the slave replied as he tightened his anal muscles as
tightly as he could to heighten his user's pleasure while he was in
orgasm. "But all the slaves the cruise line buys up are young and good
looking and well hung, master, as you've no doubt noticed, master. Just
having an appealing body isn't enough if you're a slave on this ship,
master. You have to work hard pleasing the guests with that body every way
you know how," the slave replied seriously. "Every slave on this ship is
aware of that, master, and we are all constantly striving to learn how to
please the guests better, master."
"Of course, slave," Mark said. "Any slave with half a mind knows that
a pleasing slave is a slave who will be properly fed and taken care of.
Otherwise, a slave gets sold off fast and no one can guarantee their fate,"
he added grimly.
"It would have been instructive for all the slaves on the ship to have
witnessed the mine slaves we saw in Surinam. That would have motivated
them, I bet," John laughed as he pulled his shaft out of the Italian slave
so the slave could properly clean it.
"Well, it would have at least made them aware how pampered slaves are
here on the Fantasia," Mark added sagaciously.
"Yes, masters," was all the Italian could add as he twisted his body
around so he could clean off John's prick while keeping his balls in Mark's
hands.
"Are many of the new purchases down in the hold getting used much?"
Mark asked out of curiosity.
"Yes, master. Almost all of them it seems. Every time I go down
there, a lot of the cages are empty so they are in their master's rooms no
doubt being fucked," the steward answered as he licked John's prick clean
of all the excess cum and lubricant from his recent fucking.
"Does that surprise you, slave?" John asked.
"No, master. It seems most owners like to fuck their new purchases as
soon as possible, master, to establish their ownership of their bodies.
And, master, most slaves expect to be fucked by their new masters - it's
sort of a ritual for slaves, master, that bonds them to their new owner..
At least, that what we were taught in the training camp. Is that right,
master?" the Italian slave asked.
"Of course, slave," John replied. "How else could a slave learn his
body now belongs to a new owner?"
"Yes, master, every slave understands that," the Italian slave said in
total agreement, as if the wisdom of such a practice was self-evident.
"At our last port stop, one dealer bought up a bunch of huge wild
looking black slaves that weren't even shaved or had their hair trimmed
with rings in their noses - real primitives. You ever see them down in the
hold?" Mark asked.
"Yes, master," the Italian slave responded. "They keep their nose
rings hooked to the bars of the cage so they can't move at all, master."
"Interesting," Mark reflected. "I can't imagine their new owner
sending down for them to entertain him in bed."
"I don't think so, master," the steward smiled. "They sure are
different than most of the slaves caged down there. But they're getting
fucked regularly, master."
"Really?" Mark asked.
"Not by their new owner, master. He must have told the slave handlers
down in the hold to fuck them, because that's what they're doing. They
hook their nose rings to the walls in the shower room and take a hose to
them inside and out and then they fuck those boys fastened to the wall by
their noses so they can't move no matter what anybody's doing to their
bodies, master. Those boys howl and grunt when they're being fucked, but
there is nothing they can do about what the handlers are doing to them
because of that nose ring in them. Every time you send me down to the
hold, master, I see at least two or three of those nose ring slaves being
fucked by the handlers. The way they grunt and groin, I don't thing they've
been fucked much before, master. I guess the handlers are sort of breaking
them in for their new owner, master."
"What do you think of those nose rings?" John asked the slave.
"I always thought they were just decorations, master, but I can see a
slave can be controlled perfectly by them. Those slaves down in the hold,
once there are hooked to the wall by their nose rings, can't move no matter
what, master."
"You miss being free, boy?" Mark asked out of curiosity, not concern.
"I don't know, master," the slave boy answered honestly. "Never was
really free master, in that my father was pretty strict with all his
children. But my family is all gone now, master, and most orphans get
enslaved one way or another. I suppose fate meant for me to be a slave,
master, in that I really don't mind being a slave - in fact I like it most
of the time. I don't have to worry about much as long as I do what I'm
told. No, overall, I don't miss being free, what little I can remember
about it after being trained in the slave camp, master. But," he giggled
as a huge smile spread across his handsome face, "I do miss fucking those
two black slaves my dad owned whenever I wanted, master."
"What was that training camp like you keep talking about?" John asked,
now completely spent and lying on his side staring at the two slaves in the
corner still kneeling in readiness.
"Tough, master," the Italian replied. "Real tough. It was hard to get
used to being naked all the time, never being allowed to talk, and eating
slave mush as our only food. After we got used to the whip discipline they
preferred, we learned real quick to do anything we were told any time they
wanted. I'd never been fucked myself before then, master, or ever sucked
anyone off. When they started all that, I balked, but the whip changed my
mind eventually. After that, all of us were fucked at least five or six
times a day until it seemed like nothing, master. I learned, master, you
can adjust to anything given the proper motivation and good discipline."
"What was the hardest thing you had to learn, slave? Mark asked.
"Learning to keep your mouth shut until asked to speak or getting used to
people fondling your body?"
"None of those, master. Learning to keep from shooting off until
given permission, master. That was hard for me, master, and it took a lot
of whip to teach that skill to me, master. The other thing I had trouble
with was learning to obey a command instantly without thinking about it -
that's hard at first when you've been free. The slaves born into it never
have that trouble, master."
"Well, we've certainly let you talk today, slave. Most slaves don't
get to talk that much in a year. But, it's time to give that mouth a rest,
slave. Being those two kneeling in the corner over here to the bed. We've
have another round with them before we have you take them back for a good
sweat bath in their cages," Mark ordered.
The Italian slave smiled broadly as he leaped up and quickly grabbed
both kneeling slaves by their collars and had them crawl over to the
bed. Once he saw the slaves being well used again, he retired to the
bathroom to clean himself out, knowing he would be get all sweaty again
caging the two slaves when his masters were finished with them. But, the
Italian slave smiled proudly and with great self-satisfaction, he would get
to come back to the air-conditioned room and they wouldn't.
********
As the days passed on the long trip to Porto Alegre, the Italian room
steward found himself in heavy demand by his two masters despite his many
trips to the hold to bring back some of their recent purchases for
ancillary use. He would be glad when they reached the next port and his
masters would be gone for the day visiting Brazil's most famous slave
trading center buying up new stock. He knew he was lucky to be used so
heavily by his masters - it insured his position as a room steward - and he
didn't mind servicing them either. Both were young and attractive and
often let him shoot off himself, especially when they were fully satiated
by his own efforts in their bed. But every part of his body was sore and
ached from overuse: the hole was raw, his prick was chaffed, his tits were
swollen and oversensitive, and his jaws felt distended. But, he smiled to
himself, his experience told him a good day's rest and he'd be back to
normal again, eager to serve the masters any way they desired. All it took
was a little time for them to play with some other slaves' bodies briefly
while his healed. The slaves awaiting sale in Porto Alegre could do that
rather handily and probably enthusiastically if they thought they might be
bought by these two handsome and obviously extremely wealthy masters.
TO BE CONTINUED
Comments are always appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)