Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2003 21:11:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Harbour Master!, part 2

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 2

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

I woke up to my first full day of slavery with  raging
hard-on, as I guess everyone does every morning.  I
was embarrassed as hell, and I wanted to do something
about it, but with my hands still cuffed behind my
neck, what could I do?  I reckoned all the other guys
were in the same position, too, but some were trying
to hide it by lying on their fronts, or lying curled
up so that you couldn't see their dicks.

I lay there wondering what the hell was going to
happen, and I also needed to piss desperately,.  There
was nothing for it - I had to struggle to my feet (you
try going from lying to standing, without using your
hands!), then make my way over towards the piss hole.
I was acutely conscious about the way that my dick
swung around in front of me as  I crossed the room -
it's pretty big when it's flaccid, but once it's
erect, it's a monster!  You know how it is - your dick
sways from side to side and sort of bounces up and
down as you walk, and it's as if it's given your balls
new life, too, as they sway around underneath.  I saw
the guys watching me, and I hated it.  You'd have
thought I'd have been used to being naked with them by
now, wouldn't you, but it didn't seem to help me.

What a relief it was to piss, even though the stench
from the hole in the floor was disgusting.  I did now
at least feel able to face the day.  Of course, with a
foreskin, you always have problems when you've pissed
as you really do need to massage it to get the last
few drops of piss to fall clear, and I couldn't do
this.  I hated to think of those drops of piss inside,
up against my cock head, festering away.  I know some
girls hate uncut guys as they say they smell too bad,
but provided you keep squeezing after a leak, and you
wash your behind you 'skin well every time you have a
shower, there's no problem really.

Taking the lead from me, the other guys went and
pissed in turn - I was surprised, I suppose, to see
the variety of human bodies as they knelt there at the
piss hole.  I was the tallest and most muscular, there
was one guy who was almost unnaturally thin, a guy who
was certainly at least 20 lbs too heavy, a very
freckled red-haired guy with milky white skin except
for the freckles, and  guy who looked more like a
gorilla - there was so much hair covering all this
back and his ass.

The guards came soon after, and called out for "Cory"
to make himself known.  The hairy guy went up to the
barred door, and they opened it and took him away.  A
few minutes later they came back, and we were all led
off back down the corridor to the doctor's office.

We filed in, and were told to sit down again.  "Well,
that shows the value of the tests.  You're all fit and
healthy, except for one of you who's been withdrawn
from sale:  no one will buy a slave who's HIV +.
Apart from the risk, there's the incredible cost of
the drugs - masters are responsible totally for the
health care of their slaves, you know."

I wanted to ask what would happen to Cory, but didn't
want to risk upsetting the doctor.

"So you seven now have to proceed to the net step.  As
you may or may not know, the fitting of a tracer to
slaves is mandatory in the USA.  You've all had an
external one, between sentencing and your return to
the court to pay the fine or be enslaved - and you'll
know that's why we have 100% compliance with the
court's rulings:  wearing one of those things, there's
just no way you can hide from the police.  Well, as
slaves, you'll be wearing one all the time, and that's
why you've probably never heard of runaway slaves,
except in history books.  Remember, the penalty for
leaving your master's property is normally death, and
there's no way you can hide with the surveillance
satellites in the sky.  I did hear of one miserable
wretch who hid in a mine for three years, but he had
to emerge one day as his helpers were all sick, and
the moment he did, he was caught!"

"Of course", he went on, "Wearing a bracelet all the
time would be unsatisfactory, as some masters like
their slaves totally nude.  So we fit the electronics
internally.  Who's going to be first?"

He didn't wait for a volunteers, but instead swivelled
towards me.  "You - you caused all that trouble
yesterday.  I'll start with you, so the others can see
what happens if you misbehave.  Get over and bend over
the examination table."

Watched by the guards, I went over and half lay on the
table, the leather top feeling cold and clammy against
my belly and my pecs.

"Undo his cuffs, guard", the doctor said, and my arms
were at last free.

"Right, slave, spread your legs and pull your ass
cheeks apart so I've got uninterrupted access to your
hole", he continued.

Blushing with shame as I knew all my fellows would now
get a complete view of my hole, I did as I was told.
The doctor was holding a steel instrument that looked
a bit like a thin spring, and was covering it
liberally with some of the grease he'd used the
previous day on his finger when he's so brutally
forced entry to me.

"Right - try to relax whilst I get this in.  Don't try
to stop me - it's thin, strong, and greased, and it's
going in anyway.  Probably best if you think about
crapping - push outwards, and that relaxes and opens
your ass muscles and it makes it easier to get past."

I felt the cold metal against my ass, and tried to do
as he said.  Actually, it wasn't all that unpleasant -
well, at least not half as bad as his finger had been
- and the doctor continued to push the thing up inside
me as he watched something on a TV monitor.

"There", I heard him say to himself.  "Right up and
in.... Now to release it....."  I saw him do something
with the end of the device, then he started to pull it
out of me.  A shiver of excitement and pleasure ran
through me as the metal slid out of my ass - no, that
couldn't be, surely... Guys don't get pleasure from
things coming out of their ass, do they?

He went to a PC on his desk, and keyed some things in.
 "Good.  It's taken.  I can see you clearly on the
map, slave, using the tracker software.  So all done,
slave.  Go and sit down again."

I was expecting the guard to cuff my wrists behind my
head again, but he didn't.  Instead, he used the
little key thing and took my collar off completely.

"Don't get any ideas, though, slave", he told me.
"Now the doc's fitted the tracer chip right up inside
your guts, there's no escape.  You can run, but you
can't hide.  And when we  re-capture you, you'll be
dead - sent off to the organ banks like all useless
slave meat.   So there's no more need of collars and
cuffs - you're a slave now, and other than the
occasional prodding and whipping to keep you in line
,we don't have to worry about having you chained up -
except for effect, of course!"

I wondered what he meant, but did find out later!

When all seven of us had been "chipped", they led us
off and fed us - this time we were given spoons and
could feed ourselves with the meaty paste-like stuff.
I noticed that they gave the fat guy almost none, and
he asked for more.  That earned him a prodding, for
daring to speak when he wasn't replying to a question,
and he was told that he'd be starved until he'd got a
proper man's body back and the thin guy inside was
making himself known!

As we were sitting there finishing our "meal", the
chief honcho who'd spoken to us the day before came
into the room.

"On your feet!", the guards snapped.  "Slaves always
get up when their master enters a room."

Well, I don't go with all this respect crap, but I'd
been prodded , as you know, and didn't want to repeat
the experience,  so I got to my feet.

"Finish your breakfast, slaves.  It's nutritionally
perfectly balanced to give you all the vitamins and
minerals you need, with the proper proportions of
protein and carbohydrate.  Some of your future masters
will almost certainly choose to feed you that all the
time, as it's cheap and easy, and they know that
you'll thrive on it.  Just like some folks always feed
their pet dogs dog chow.  Of course, some of your
owners might spoil you and allow you to eat their food
- but we never recommend it:  you all cost a lot of
money, and it's pretty senseless to risk letting you
get fat, or out of condition."

"Anyway, now that you're all safely chipped, we can
proceed to sell you.  A couple more things you have to
go through today - proper dental check, and putting
any poor teeth into good order, a and a shave, and
then it's off to the stock pens for you.  We always
shave the balls and asses of our slave for sale, as we
believe that most prospective purchasers like to be
able to inspect these important areas of you without a
lot of hair in the way, and we usually generally tidy
your pubic hair generally at the same time, and give
you a haircut.  I mostly leave your head hair as it
is, though, and don't touch most of your body hair -
although there's a fashion for slaves to be completely
shaved all over, that's something a buyer can
commission afterwards. Personally, I like totally
smooth slaves as I think it shows off their body
definition better - and that big slave there (he
pointed to me) would look very good smooth and with
his skin glistening with a little slave oil.  But If I
have you all completely smooth now, it will put some
buyers off, as they like hairy men and wouldn't be
certain about the covering they were going to get when
it re-grew. And some purchasers like to think they can
tell something about a slave's "character" from the
way he wore his hair in his former life."

"Right, guards, take them and get them properly
cleaned up."

Well, at least in the showers there were no more mops
this time - with our hands free we could wash
ourselves properly.  But it was horrific when we found
that we were meant to  shave the dicks, balls and
asses of our fellows!  Other than yesterday, I'd never
had another guy touch my dick or ass, and I'd
certainly never thought about touching another man's
tackle.  But now I was expected to lie there in the
showers whilst one of the guys used firstly scissors,
and then a razor, to run all over my balls to make
them smooth!  Apart from the shame of having another
man touch these most intimate parts of you, there was
the constant tension of knowing that he might hurt you
- you know how it is when you touch your own balls -
you do so oh so carefully, and even with constant
feedback from your fingers, you're always slightly
worried.  But with a strange guy doing it.... I was
sweating, expecting to leap up in the air at any
moment.  And if I did, with that razor near me....!

When he'd finished, the guy handed me the razor, and
kind of shrugged - I was supposed to do him!
Actually, I suppose it wasn't all that bad.  If you
don't think about where a guy's dick has been, pumping
seed into women, and just think of it as another part
of the body, you can almost get away with doing
something like trimming the hair off the base of it,
then running a razor up it.  It helped that the guy
didn't spring an erection - I think that if he had,
I'd have totally lost it.  The balls were harder,
though, as you have to snip the hair away with
scissors first, then pull and stretch the ball sac so
that you can shave it.  The guy's dick lay quite
still, flopping against his thigh, as I worked, so it
wasn't too bad though.

When we stood up, I couldn't help reaching to feel my
balls.  They actually felt better - silky and smooth!
I  suppose you get used to the feel of all the wiry
pubic hair on them and you don't notice it - but
shaved smooth, they're soft and silky and actually
feel great.  I wish someone had told me about this
before - I might even have done it regularly!  And, of
course, as we stood there, you could see why they
wanted our balls shaved - with the hair off them, and
the base of our dicks cleaned and our pubes generally
trimmed to be shorter and less bushy and straggly, we
all looked as if we had bigger dicks and balls (well,
the other guys did, as far as I could see, so I
suppose mine did, too.  Not that I'm an expert -  I
wouldn't want you to think that I go around judging
the size of guys' tackle!).

But now it got worse - the guards said it was
ass-shaving time, "And that little bit between the
balls and the hole.  We want it all clean as a
whistle."

"You", he said, pointing at me,.  "You're the biggest
- kneel down, on your hands and knees."

"Right.  Now, in turn each of you other slaves is
going to lie across the back of that big fucker.  You
pull your ass cheeks apart, and another guy will shave
off all those little hairs down your ass crack.  I'm
going to run my finger down each of you when you've
done, and if I feel anything at all that's anything
like a hair, between the ball sac and the top of the
ass crack, there will be punishment!  Now, get to
work."

The other six all looked at each other, and then the
thin guy shrugged and came and knelt beside me, at
right angles to my back.  He leaned forward, and then
was resting on me.  I could feel the heat of his chest
and his belly on my back, and I knew his dick must be
swinging around somewhere, near my ribs.  I don't know
what I felt, really, other than that we shouldn't be
made to be doing things like this - I'd not had
another man's body in close contact with mine before.
I suppose wrestlers do it all the time, but I'd never
done anything like that.  But by the time the sixth
guy was finished, I suppose I was used to it.  The
only thing I didn't like was that one of the guys got
a bit "excited", shall we say, and I could feel his
dick thrusting into my ribs as I knelt there.  I was
worried he might shoot all over me!

I wasn't given anyone to kneel over - they just told
me to press my shoulders to the floor, and reach back
and spread my ass cheeks.  It felt odd, having the
razor sliding up and down that most secret place.
Little sensations flowed through me as the razor
skittered around the sensitive skin of my pucker - not
unpleasant, but oh so different from anything I'd ever
known before.  When the slave pronounced me done, I
was told to carry on kneeling there whilst the guard
"inspected" me - his hot finger started at the base of
my spine and ran down my crack.  He almost massaged my
pucker, and I wanted to squirm with the tickling,
sexual excitement of it all - NO!  I didn't .  I hated
it really, I suppose.  Having a guy toying with my
pucker, it's disgusting.

I can't tell you much about the dental inspection and
the work the dentist did, except that it felt mighty
odd to be sitting in a leather dentist chair, with one
of those napkins tied around your neck, when that's
absolutely all you're wearing!  By the time it was my
turn the leather of the chair was all hot and sweaty
from the previous slaves' bodies, and having the
leather slithering around under me felt OK.  Actually,
I've always had strong, even very white teeth - just
as well, as there was never much money for dentist
bills - so I didn't need anything doing.  He did the
usual poking around with the sharp steel instruments,
took a few X-rays to make sure there was no deep decay
starting, and pronounced me perfect.  Some of the
other guys weren't so lucky, though, and it took most
of the day, with us just sitting there watching, for
us all to be done.

They even had those fancy high-intensity tanning
cubicles!  Some of us guys, me included, were taken
and made to stand in them so that we could "Even up
our tans".  Now my ass and crotch really were glowing
pink!  They didn't make the pale, freckled redhead go
through this, though - I heard one of the guards
saying that he'd fetch a higher price milky-white, as
some masters, especially big blacks, really liked them
that way.

We seemed to be about finished for the day, when the
chief honcho appeared again.

"Right - you're all fit and healthy, all checked out.
So you're ready to go on sale.  This way!"

He led us off, and we went through the building again
until it seemed to change - the stark thermoplastic on
the floors changed to carpet, the lights became
softer, and the walls were panelled with wood veneer.
We stopped in front of an impressive set of double
doors, saying "Welcome To The Slave For You Viewing
Suite".

He opened the doors, and we went through. There was a
wide corridor stretching away down the room, with two
sets of cells, or cages, one down either side.  They
were made of shining stainless steel bars stretching
from floor to ceiling, and were not very big - each
was only just longer than the plastic-covered sleeping
pad lying to one side of each cell, and only about
twice as wide.  Some of these cells had naked guys in
them.  We all looked, and were expecting the men there
to say something, but it was ominously silent.

We could see that the carpet on which we were standing
ran only to the cell doors, and inside they were plain
concrete.  The lighting in our "corridor" was low and
discrete, but each "cell" was harshly lit by an
overhead fluorescent.

"Right, you new slaves, this is the viewing facility.
You'll spend the rest of your time with us in here.
Although we no longer need to keep you confined or
chained, as you can't escape with those locator chips
inside you, most of our clients savour the experience
of coming and selecting a slave - rather like when you
go to the dog pound to pick out anew dog, they like to
come and view the stock, and see what's on offer.
It's more or less "traditional" to see slaves on sale
in cages, and so we oblige, even though it would be
easier just to have you all in one big room. We're
proud to be able to offer our customers a choice of
around thirty slaves at any one time, and as we're a
'lean and mean' organisation, this facility is
designed to allow us to house and display you with the
minimum effort."

"Each of you will occupy one of the cells.  As you
will see, our customers can stroll down the central
aisle and view the contents of the cells on either
side easily.  If they want, they can ask the guard to
bring you out here into the centre for particular
'hands on' inspection, or if they want to see you do
something special - some buyers like to see you run up
and down the length of this space, for example, so
they can really watch you in action."

"There's a crap and piss hole in the corner of each
cell, and a tongue-activated water spigot on the wall.
 The guards will bring around your rations twice a
day, and you will eat them all, quickly:  We tailor
the amount to your general body mass, so you are
required to eat all your rations, and no more - we
found a slave surreptitiously slipping some of his
food to the slave in the next cell last month, as that
slave was on a starvation diet to reduce his fat:
needless to say, both were punished severely, and I
mean severely!"

"Every morning the shower heads in the ceiling of each
cell will drench you, and every two days you will be
given a disposable razor to shave with.  You will use
it not only on your faces, but to ensure your sacs and
asses stay silky smooth, too.  Talking - no, any form
of communication - between you slaves is strictly
forbidden.  You will remain totally silent whilst
you're in here, unless a purchaser or a guard asks you
a question:  there's microphones at intervals down the
corridor, and if they pick up sounds, we sent electric
shocks through the floors of all the cells in that
area - there are fine wires embedded in the concrete
floors of the cells, and you are, of course, all
barefooted.  Remember, then, that it's not just you
that will be punished for any communication, it's your
fellow slaves around you, too."

"Likewise any form of sexual stimulation is strictly
forbidden.  No jerking off, no playing with your
dicks, and, of course, absolutely no touching of the
slaves on either side of you through the bars.   Close
circuit TV cameras monitor the whole area, and if the
guard in our control centre sees even the merest hint
of sexual activity, the wires can be activated to give
you a painful punishment.  We want you to be primed
and ready for our clients to feel and handle, and we
don't want a slave who's just jerked himself off to
stand there and not care - buyers like to feel the
tension in a man, the tension that makes his balls
twitch and his dick go hard if he's touched down
there."

"Finally, you should expect to be here for no more
than seven days.  We don't make any provision for
exercising you, as a week isn't enough time for your
muscles to start to atrophy.  If you're not sold in
seven days we take other measures - although as we
tend to specialise in the prime younger man market, in
general this isn't a problem.  We've only had to dump
a few slaves into the organ bank market this year.
But, be aware, it could happen to you - we can't keep
you here indefinitely, as the effort to maintain you
in good condition isn't sustainable with our small
staff.  So if we can't sell you within a reasonable
period, it's off to the organ banks.  So I would
advise you to be eager to please, when there are
prospective buyers around, and to make yourselves look
like desirable properties!"

"Oh - one more thing:  as you'll see, slaves on
display wear the traditional white shorts.  You'll be
issued with them now, and you need to do two things:
firstly, remember the size you're given, so that
tomorrow morning, hen they're changed, you get the
correct replacement pair.  And secondly, wear them!
You will wear them at all times unless you're
crapping, or when the showers are running.  Or , of
course, if a buyer is carrying out an intimate
inspection of you."

"As you can't ask, I'll tell you why we waste money on
these shorts - after all, you don't need them for
protection, as you're safely in your cells, or for
modesty, as you're all slaves.  No, it's for the
general comfort of the buyers:  we get some single
ladies coming here to buy a slave, and they don't like
to be confronted with a lot of dicks waving around.
It's been our experience that we get more sales if
ladies are allowed to select the slaves they're
interested in, then have them strip for an intimate
inspection.  Of course, many male buyers like that,
too - there's something special about requiring a
slave to strip in front of you, knowing that you can
then fondle and play with him as you like."

Well, that about sums up my time in the display
section - the first day, it was incredibly boring.
There was hardly room to move around in the tiny cell.
 One group of us got  big shock, that left us howling
and fucking mad with the slave who'd started talking,
in spite of what we'd been told - so it was silence
after that.  All you could really do was space up and
down a bit, or just sit or lie on your sleep pad.
There was nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to
think about - I suppose they wanted us to have this
featureless time so that when buyers did appear we
were eager for something different to happen.

I've been to a dog pound with mom and dad when they
were getting a new dog when I was living at home, and
seeing the reaction of us slaves reminded me exactly
of this.  All the slaves were quiet, just hanging
around in their cells, until the doors opened and a
prospective buyer, accompanied by a guard, came in.
Then we all went almost wild, rushing to the doors of
our cells and waving our arms out to attract their
attention, or just standing there, trying to get our
heads close to the bars so we'd be noticed.

On my first day I didn't do this and just remained
sitting on my sleeping pad, and the buyers ignored me.
 But by day two, I was  trying to "sell" myself
through the bars, just like the others.  Of course I
was worried about the "seven day limit", and the
possibility of being sent to the organ banks, but it
as more of a "I want contact" kind of thing - after
the sterile isolation of being silent and confined in
my cell, I craved being allowed to step into the
corridor just for a change from the bleak cell, to
hear voices, even if they were discussing my physical
attributes, and to have someone touch me, even though
I loathed the liberties they would take with my naked
body.

I found that if I stood by the bars of my cll,
gripping the bars tightly so that my hands framed my
face as it pressed close to the steel, it seemed to
get me some attention - well, I am considered a
handsome guy, after all, and in that position the
whole of my fit body is also exposed right close to
the corridor.  There was only one single lady looking,
and she ignored me.  But I had two married couples
have me taken out of my cell on that second day, and
four individual men did the same.

That second couple were the worst - there was a man
about my age and his young wife, and they told the
guard they were interested in seeing more of me.  So
he unlocked my cell door, and  I stepped out on to the
carpet in front of them.  The husband seemed to know
what he was doing, as he ran his hands over my pecs
and down my belly, stopping at the top of my shorts.
He told me to turn around, and his fingers pried into
my neck muscles, then ran down my back, again feeling
my muscles.  He ran his hands over my ass outside my
shorts, and told me to turn around again.

"Well, honey", he said to his wife.  "This one seems
to be a good strong guy - nicely toned.  He'd be able
to do all the yard work on our four acres...."

"Oh, Jed, I don't know... He's so..... So....
Overpowering."

"Don't worry about that - me and my family have had
several slaves, I grew up with them, and I'm used to
controlling them.  This one is perfectly harmless -
why don't you touch him, and  see."

She was clearly very nervous, but her hand finally
came out and rested lightly on the hair on my left
pec.  "Oh, Jed... He's so warm...."

"Yes - slaves who are kept naked usually feel warm, I
find.  Shall we have a closer look?"

He came forward again, and moved his hand across my
belly.  This time he didn't stop, and reached down
into my shorts and started to grope for my dick.  I of
course bent backwards - I still wasn't used to this,
and I wanted to get away from his hand.

"Steady, boy!", the guard snapped, and I remembered
what would happen if I didn't behave.

The husband groped - rather inexpertly, I suppose, for
a couple of seconds, then said to the guard, "I'd like
to inspect this slave completely.  Have him get
naked."

"You heard!", the guard turned to me and said. "Drop
those shorts and put your hands behind your neck."
He waved his prod menacingly at me as he said this,
so, very reluctantly, as having to strip in front of a
woman was even worse than getting naked in front of
another guy, I let my shorts drop to the floor.

The husband came forward again, and this time grasped
my dick firmly in his hand.  It was awful, being felt
by another guy like this in front of a woman!  To my
horror I started to feel myself going a bit hard.

"He's a bit frisky", the husband commented to the
wife.  "But now you can see all of him, he's obviously
very strong and well built, isn't he?  I reckon he
could easily take care of our four acres and do all
the chores whilst I'm travelling.  You wouldn't mind
giving him his orders every day, would you?"

"Oh, honey, I don't know.  He looks awfully big to me
- and I don't like the way he's showing off by going
hard like that - it's not very respectful, is it?"

"It's only because he's a young guy.  You're not
afraid of him, are you?  We need a big strong man to
work the land, and keep the place neat.... And you
know I don't get time."

"Jed, honey, I don't think so.... He's so.... So.....
Virile.  I don't think I'd feel safe out there on our
place without you to protect me, with this slave
roaming free all over...."

As this conversation was going on the chief honcho - I
guess he was actually the owner of the place, and the
chief dealer, came up.

"Hi, folks.  Fine looking young buck, isn't he?  What
are you looking for?"

The husband replied, saying they needed a man to work
their mini-farm, and that he had to spend a lot of
time travelling, but that his wife was concerned about
a slave roaming around when the husband was away so
much.

"Well, sir", the dealer responded.  "I think this is
just the slave you need.  You can see his fine
musculature - just run your hand down over his ass,
and feel the power in those muscles - he was a
labourer in construction, and these are real work
muscles."

The husband did indeed start to run his hands over my
ass, and I kind of shuddered at the way he was feeling
me - I was just something he was inspecting with a
view to buying, not a man, like him.  I might as well
have been a golf club, or something, that had to "feel
right" before it was bought. And having the slave
dealer there seemed to make him bolder - he came
around and started to feel my biceps, and my pecs, and
ran his hand down over my stomach again, sensing the
ridges of hard muscle I have there.

"See, sir", the dealer went on, "You don't often get
musculature like that.  He's tough, young, and strong
- you can get years of work out of him!"

"I suppose you're right.  But I think my wife has a
point - I don't like the idea of leaving him roaming
around when she's so isolated - I've heard stories of
slaves... You know... 'taking advantage'  of lone
women.  I wouldn't feel easy if I was over-nighting in
Chicago, and this slave was alone with my wife.... Who
knows what might happen.  And I've got a young child,
you know, a little girl of five - there  are stories
of slaves...."

"Enough, sir.  I understand your concerns.  I guess it
would be impractical to have the slave permanently
chained up, secured outside?"

"Yes.  We've got about four acres, that he'd need to
mow and so on.  I don't think a chain would work..."

"Well then, the other solution is of course to have
him gelded.  Gelded slaves are much more docile, and
there's no risk of.... Of.... Shall we say
'interference' with ladies or children."

I felt sick with horror.  They couldn't be serious!
In spite of all the warnings about prodding if I spoke
without being spoken to, I blurted out  "You can't do
that!  You're not allowed to do permanent harm to
prisoners.... Remember, that's what we are...."

The guard went to prod me, but the dealer held him
back.  He ignored me, and spoke to the man and his
wife.  "There's no problem with getting the gelding
done.  We can apply to the courts for an order to
allow it to happen, citing the special job needs of
the slave - there's a very simple form for you to
complete for the court, saying how isolated your house
is and so on, and they'll certainly grant permission.
We do it all the time."

"We can do all the paperwork when you sign the sale
contract, and I'll even make it conditional on the
court's permission.  Then, tomorrow, when the court
has approved, we'll have our resident doctor take his
balls off - it's a relatively simple procedure, and we
cauterise the wound so that he'll be ready to work the
day after that.  I'd recommend you keep him closely
supervised for a few days whilst the male hormones
flush out of his system, but after that..... No
problem."

I was gasping in horror.  I wanted to shout and scream
at them that it wasn't some animal they were talking
about, it was me!  It was my balls they were proposing
to cut off.  I'd not only have lost my freedom, being
a slave, I'd have lost my manhood as well.  I wanted
to strike out, smash their faces in, or run away....
But I was snaked, inside the dealership, and the guard
was hefting his prod in a very menacing way.

The husband had a question, though.  "Well, I guess we
could do that - it sounds simple enough.  But wouldn't
he then lose all his strength... I seem to remember
all those old movies with eunuchs in Arabian palaces -
they all seemed to be fat and lazy.... I need a slave
for hard manual work."

"You're right to be concerned, sir.  But there's
actually no problem.  Provided you take a slave's
balls when he's fully mature, his basic body shape is
set.  He won't get fat - well, at least not if you
work him hard and thrash him if he fails to make his
work targets, and rigorously control his food intake.
You won't need to shave him, of course, and his voice
will alter a bit - but other than the obvious external
signs, as his dick will hang a bit lower, you won't
generally be able to tell that he's lost his 'nads.
Of course, if you were considering buying a boy slave,
my advice would be different - I usually don't
recommend gelding them until they've had a couple of
years of spunk production."

"Well, if you're sure.....  Oh hell, yes ,why not.....
Except that in the summer we will of course have him
work naked - I can't be bothered with buying slave
clothes all the time, and getting them laundered.  I
can't help thinking that without his balls, he'll look
a bit odd."

"Well, not a problem again.  It normally costs extra,
but I'm keen to move this slave so I'll throw it in
for free - we won't do the routine gelding and
cauterisation, but will have him fitted with
prostheses at the same time."

I was still listening incredulously.  It was as if I
was going mad.  This conversation going on around me
about my body was almost surreal.  I kept thinking
that I would wake up and it would all be a horrible
nightmare.  But it went on and on.

"Prostheses?", the husband asked.

"Yes.  Instead of just slicing the sac off and running
the electric cauteriser over the wound, the doctor
slits it open from behind, cuts out the balls, then
inserts a couple of small - or, in the cane of this
slave, large - prosthetic balls in.  Then the sac is
sewn up from behind."

As he was speaking ,the dealer had cupped my sac in
his hand and had smiled at the husband when he made
the point about "large" rather than "small" - they
were both looking at my sac, with its big balls
outlined against the shaved skin.  The husband
returned the dealer's smile, and I could see that they
were sharing a kind of "guy thing" joke about me.

"As I said, it usually costs a bit more, as it takes
the doctor longer.  But I'll do it as part of the
service - and there will be no charge for the extra
large set of prostheses, either!"  Both men now
laughed, and shook hands.

"One other thing, too, if you like.  We'll see to his
nipples - I'll have that thrown in as well, if you
want him done."

"What about his nipples?", the wife now butted in.  I
don't think she liked her husband and the dealer
striking a deal without her approval.

"Well, mam, it's like this.  A lot of slaves, and I
guess a young stud like this is no exception, have a
strong connection between their nipples and their
dicks.  To be crude, and I do apologise, mam, but
there's no point in not speaking plainly about slaves
- they play with their nipples to help them get
erections, and then to keep hard."

The woman looked knowingly at her husband, and there
was a flash of some shared secret.

The dealer went on "When the slave has been gelded,
he'll find it harder and harder to get an erection.
So he'll be more and more tempted to tweak and massage
his nipples to help him get an erection."

"I thought men without balls couldn't get
erections...", the woman interrupted.

"No, man, I'm afraid you're wrong there.  If their
balls are taken at a very young age before they start
erecting, they never learn.  But a buck like this -
he's 24, so he's probably been used to erections for
at least 12 years - his body knows all about it.  So
he'll go on having erections.  There's will be nothing
to shoot, but his dick will still go hard.  And, as I
said, he'll spend time playing with himself, with his
tits, to help it along  - time he could be working for
you."

"So what do you recommend?"

"Personally, although I know it disfigures the slave a
bit, I'd recommend having his nipples sliced off.
It's quick and easy for the doctor - a scalpel slid
down parallel to the aureole, and they're gone.  A
quick burn with the cauteriser, and he won't even lose
a day's work."

"I don't understand", the woman said.

The dealer came up to me and grasped my left nipple
between his thumb and forefinger.  I winced, and
wanted to scream at him to leave me alone, but the
guard had moved in on me, too.

"See, mam - the nipple at rest in a normal male lie
this one with well developed pecs is about a quarter
of an inch.  If I stimulate it, like this...."   He
began to twist and tweak at my nipple, and I squirmed
and wanted desperately to pull away.  "... You can
stretch it out to about half an inch.  Like a lot of
well-built guys, this slave has big, brown aureoles -
big and dark, about the size of a quarter dollar,
wouldn't you say?"

"Yes - but it's difficult to tell with all that hair
on his chest..."

"Well, we just use the scalpel where the nipple comes
out of the aureole - he's left with the big quarter
dollars, but there's nothing in the centre.  Nothing
for him to grab hold of. Nothing to play with.  Less
risk of unsightly erections, especially as you intend
to have him prancing around in the nude in the summer.
 I guess you don't want your little girl to see him
sporting a massive erection....."

"No!  Certainly not!  Yes, you're right, have them
sliced off."

No... Surely I was going to wake up soon!  They
couldn't be talking about me like this.  I wasn't some
pet animal, I was a man, Steve, a man with a body of
his own, with feelings...

The dealer was summing up.  "So, it's agreed, then.
Gelded, prosthetics, nipples sliced.  You can pick him
up in two days time.  Come along and sign the papers."

They went to move off, and the dealer said "Lock him
back up, guard.  Be careful, though - these young
bucks can be troublesome when they know they're going
to be nutted tomorrow."

He also snapped at me "And you, slave, remember that
there's still an absolute prohibition on touching your
dick, unless you want all the other slaves to suffer.
You'll just have to lie there and remember what
jerking off was like - you'll never get to shoot
another load of cum now."

The guard opened my cell and all I could do was go in
and throw myself down on the sleeping pad.  I know
I've told you that I don't think that guys should sob
or cry - well, I'm ashamed to say, I almost did then!
I was going to be turned into a eunuch, and have my
nips sliced off, just because some guy didn't think he
could trust me around his wife and kid!  Fucking hell,
I'm no pervert - there's no way I'd ever touch a kid.
Mind you, the wife was a bit of a turn on.... No!  I
shouldn't think things like that.  I know she'd looked
appreciatively at my dick and my balls, so
perhaps...... NO!  Stop that.  But it was too late
anyway.  They'd decided.  They'd take me down to that
fucking doctor tomorrow morning, and within an hour or
so I'd no longer be a man.

Although I didn't cry, I kept cursing the fates all
night, and I didn't sleep at all.  The slaves around
me had all heard the conversation, and I could tell by
the way that they were looking at me that they were
sorry for me, but, of course they couldn't speak, or
touch me. All they could do was look out of their
cells at me, and try to show me, by their expressions,
that they understood the horror I was experiencing.

I was hungry, too - they didn't give me any supper
that evening.  One of the guards said to the other
"This buck's going to lose his 'nads tomorrow.  So
they're cutting down on his food already, to make sure
he doesn't go to fat."

I tossed and turned, and I suppose I did sleep
eventually, as there was the rattling of the keys as
my cell was unlocked.  They'd come to take me off to
lose my manhood.


End Of Part 2