Date: Wed, 11 Jun 2014 09:36:05 -0400
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: Miracle   Chapters 4 and 5

IMAGINE waking up in the morning, or coming home in the evening and
clicking on the NIFTY tab ready to read some more great stories, and
nothing happens.  Nifty is gone, and you remember that often you were asked
to help keep the site available, and always thought "I should do that." but
you never did.  Think about that possibility for a minute, and then support
Nifty to keep it here when you want it.


CHAPTER 4     To Market, To Market, To Market We Will Go...

The next morning we were awake even before TRAINER and the guards came for
us.  We thought we would show our appreciation by being at attention, in a
good straight row, with our cocks hard and erect, and flexed to show our
improved posture, and also our compliance.

When Trainer entered with the guards, they stopped in their tracks, and
genuinely smiled, and unbelievably Trainer applauded us.  The guards
hastily joined in.

"WELL DONE SLAVES!"  was Trainer's comment as he approached our cage.
"With an attitude like that and with those great `SHOW' bodies, you will
bring on a great competition for you, and the higher the price, the more
you ensure that you will be a very well treated and well cared for show
coffle."

When a guard unlocked the cage's door, we continued our display of how well
trained we were.

We marched through the gates so that our feet struck the floor at the exact
same time, and we kept our eyes straight ahead.  As we moved, guided though
through our peripheral vision, we went exactly to the place we were to go
to line up for inspection.  We executed the maneuver precisely, and once
again we were rewarded by comments from Trainer and the guards of "GREAT,"
and "SUPER."

           We were loaded into a slave carrier, which is like a police
paddy wagon, but the sides are barred and open to the observation of free
persons.  The sides bore the notation "SLAVES IN TRANSIT.  DO NOT
APPROACH!"  We should have realized that the note not to approach was not
meant for our protection from free persons, but more likely more a warning
to be careful of the potentially wild animals.  We were, I guess, great
examples of the Stockholm syndrome.

Our trip to market was not an extremely long one.  I would guess maybe
about an hour, and we could tell we were there.  We were in a stop-and-go
mode, and even inside the wagon we heard that we were being assigned a
cage.  We felt our transport being backed up to a parking spot, and then,
after some more conversations which we could hear as sound, but not
distinct words, our guards with two new guards appeared and opened the cage
door.

"Slaves" a new guard addressed us. "OUT and FORM!"  We knew the command and
organized ourselves in order, stooped over, and exited the transport.
Immediately we formed up, stood at slave rest, and awaited our orders.
"COFFLE FOLLOW" was the next order, and as first in line, I carefully
focused on the shoes on the guard, and in unison we followed those shoes to
a slave pen.  I heard the door being unlocked, and then the order "ENTER!
THEN LINE UP IN SLAVE REST!"  We moved inside the cage, turned and lined
up, and immediately stood at slave rest facing the bars of the cage, and
kept our eyes respectfully on the floor.  We heard the cage door being
closed and locked, and since no order was given to relax we remained in
slave rest standing position.  We had learned that even though this
position was not really a relaxed position, it did not require us to tense
our muscles for slave display, and therefore was not an uncomfortable way
to await our next orders.

Slave time has no relationship to free time.  We waited in position for
what did seem a fairly long time, but certainly within our training.  Then
we perceived a group of free men gathering outside our cage.  We heard our
trainer's voice saying "We believe that this coffle should be sold as a
show coffle..."  At this point I stopped listening to words and only
concentrated on readiness to hear an order.  We had practiced this skill.
Our ears were trained only to really process slave orders.  Suddenly and
order was said loudly "SLAVES. DISPLAY!"  We immediately snapped to
position, and were proud that we demonstrated our training and were in
complete unison.

The new free man issued several orders and we executed them as the
well-trained coffle we now were.  At the end of several orders, we were
returned to slave rest position, and the cage door was unlocked, and we saw
the polished boots of Trainer, and two sets of much more worn, and less
polished boots.  We were now given a thorough slave evaluation examination.
One set of "dirty" boots seemed more interested in our musculature, and the
other set of boots was more interested in our sexual responsiveness.

After the evaluation there was a period of silence, and then trainer, (and
we slaves) heard what we all had worked for.  "John, you have a very well
trained and physically superior coffle.  We will display them as our
premiere offering for this sale.  We of course made no reaction, but
trainer replied "THAT'S GREAT!" and then the freeman group exited that
cage, and we were locked in again.  We were a little concerned that we
would be left in the display position, but just as we were resigned to
keeping up our position at some pain until released when we herd trainer.

"COFFLE AT EASE UNTIL GIVEN ANOTHER ORDER."  We were thrilled!  "AT EASE"

was a slave position where we could relax completely.  We could sit.  We
were not even expected to stand whenever a free man approached our area.
For a slave "AT EASE" is a real reward.  We all smiled at one another.  We
were proud of our achievement.

Our transformation from free teens, to pigs in a trailer, to slaves who
accepted their change had been one that would amaze any free person.  These
free persons might say smugly that these guys were just weak minded wimps
who were really too weak minded to preserve their freedom and fight against
their slave training and transformation.  Well talk is cheap.  If you were
naked, had a slave collar around your neck, metal cuffs on your wrists and
ankles, had your SIN tattooed on your arm, and were shown your picture and
fingerprints on an official state slave registry, you might accept the fact
that YOU were a slave, even if you had not been legally enslaved, and you
also might decide to survive as best as you could in that situation.  Being
an obedient, well-cared-for show coffle was our logical response to the
realities that now existed.

That is what we had done, and so far deciding not to fight, but to accept,
seemed to be working.

If we were going to be held back as the best slaves offered at this sale,
then it was logical that we might indeed go for a high price, and logic
also would seem to prove that if someone paid a lot of money for you, you
probably are going to be treated as any expensive thing is treated –
WELL TREATED.

We rested in our cage again for a period of time that did not seem long to
us, but one of the traits that we seemed to have automatically acquired as
slaves was that time was really somewhat meaningless to us.  We saw our
trainer coming and so out of respect, we jumped up and formed our line and
assumed the PRESENT position.  Again, we were looking at the floor, but
"slavedar" allowed us to sense that our trainer was again well pleased at
our action.

 "Slaves" Trainer said, "we have been talking about you to buyers, and
there is great interest in you.  We are now going to take you out to the
display area, and you should expect to have many potential buyers test both
your bodies and very unusually your ability to answer questions.  If you
really are going to be show coffle, you will be expected to answer
questions from the visitors to the estate.  We smiled secretly among
ourselves as trainer had prepared us for this aspect of selling ourselves
as well as making sure our bodies and co-ordination were ready to sell for
top dollar.  "SIR YES SIR!" we shouted in unison in good show coffle
fashion.  We could sense that once again we had impressed the auction
officials.

We were released from the cage, and in true show coffle fashion we were led
to the show room in perfect unison.  There we were displayed upon a foot
high dais, and conspicuously, were NOT chained to the display stand, but
stood there on display without restraint.  After a few minutes the buyers
entered, and clearly we were the items of greatest interest in the auction.
We were pinched; our bodies were professionally tested and examined, and we
were questioned about how we would answer questions about being slaves from
visitors to the estate.

We were ready for all these requirements and requests, and we sensed that
the buyers were indeed ready to bid a very serious amount of money for four
such young, fit, bright, and thoroughly domesticated lavaboes.

After the inspection period was over, the room cleared of the free men, and
we joined all the other slaves down to a long chute where the slaves were
put in line in order of being offered for sale.  After what seemed to be a
long time, but we heard from the conversation of the guards was only an
hour, the first slaves moved from the chute onto the stage for the auction
and sale.  We were to be held to last, but soon the officials at the
auction perceived that the buyers were unwilling to spend much for any
other slaves because they were saving all their funds for our auction.
Therefore after only five slaves had been sold, it was announced that after
an intermission of approximately fifteen minutes the show coffle auction
would take place.  We could feel the excitement and anticipation in the
showroom.

We were returned to the display area, and again we were surrounded by eager
buyers in just a few moments.  We smiled, and when ordered managed to keep
all our movement in unison.  We could sense the excitement and as a final
trick to increase our value we showed our last trick, we erected in unison,
and received a spontaneous ovation.  We were slave stars, and we awaited
our auction sure that our price would be such that we would be treated with
the respect that these very wealthy people bestowed on their most prized,
and expensive possessions.  Then we all heard the announcement over the
public address system.  "Buyers, we are ready for this prize offering."


Assistants to the auctioneer came, and we followed him past all the other
slaves in the chute, and up five steps to the auction block.  There was a
small area on the stage, but not visible to the auction room where we were
stopped.  An assistant who had brought us to the block told us then we
heard the auctioneer say "Coffle, form and display" we were to move to the
raised area in front of the auctioneer's raised podium, which looked to me
almost like the pulpit of the church I had attended in Massachusetts, turn
and assume the display position.  I amused myself by thinking of the
auctioneer as the Minister of Slavery in this place of slave worship and
purchase, standing in the pulpit and selling his religion of slaves.  Just
a few moments later we heard to auctioneer say through the PA system,
"Coffle, Form and Display."  We marched out, moved onto the raised area,
turned and faced the buyers crowded just below the raised auction stage.

As soon as we were in line I whispered "three, two, one," and on one once
again we all erected in unison.  The applause was absolutely thunderous.
The auctioneer said behind us, and we could hear, but the applause caused
only us to hear, "Holy Shit, How in the fuck you did that?"

When the ovation died down, the auctioneer said to the crowd, "As you can
see, this show coffle will be a show stopper."  Applause and laughter
followed, and then the serious business of us becoming the legal property
of someone began.


CHAPTER 5 PERFORMANCE SLAVERY

"Gentlemen, the opening bid will be at $150,000 for this extraordinary show
coffle." The auctioneer intoned.  We then expected to hear a bid called out
and in a loud, exciting, competition which we could follow and finally know
how much we were worth, from both the work of Trainer, and ourselves.

 We did not hear that at all. What we did hear was a small smatterings of
applause, gasps, and excited small conversations between two or three in
the hall.  We later found that bidding was done electronically, and the
latest bid was flashed on a large sign above us on the arch that went over
our stage.  Occasionally we would hear the auctioneer say, "That is an
outstanding bid, but is there another?  Look at what this extraordinary
show coffle do for your public relations, As you can see, these slaves have
shown they know how to impress an audience."

After that remark there was laughter.  Then there must have been another
fury of bidding as there were several times when a bid was received the
auctioneer would say, "Thank you Bidder 167 for that outstanding bid."
Then after another pause in which we guessed that more bids were received,
the auctioneer said, "Gentlemen we are a record levels for this coffle, but
this coffle is extraordinary, pleasing on the eye, talented with their
bodies, and as you noted in the exhibit examination session fully capable
of quality human speech.  Even though we are already at a new record price,
this is a rare product that is being offered.  I will hold the floor open
for two more minutes, and then this coffle will be sold."  We waited; the
auctioneer waited; and the hall waited.  You could really feel the tension
in the room.

Finally we heard the auctioneer say, "Gentleman, you see the bid. Are sure
there are no others?"

There must have been none as after a pause the auctioneer shouted "SOLD TO
FAIRVIEW FARMS OF WEST MILTON, NEW YORK."  The room erupted in applause,
although I did hear a couple of "DAMN's, I wanted that coffle but the bid
was just too high!"

We knew now who owned us, and we were immediately taken off the opposite
side of the side from which we entered, and were taken to a slave cage that
was one of many around a large room.  It was clear that this was a holding
area for slaves until their owner paid for the merchandise, and we could
see through open doors a loading dock where we livestock could be loaded in
slave transports for our trip to our owner.

Since we has all been kidnapped in Massachusetts, we had no idea where in
New York this place FAIRVIEW FARMS OF WEST MILTON, NEW YORK was, but as we
waited until we were paid for and taken to be shipped, we realized that it
made no difference.  We were a show coffle for which our owner had paid a
record amount of money.

As we waited in slave rest position, one of my coffle mates whispered
"Let's try to think of some new way to wow the audiences we knew we will
perform for."  This suggestion was followed by silence.  In this silence I
think we accepted finally the total realization of slavery.  We were
slaves, expensive slaves yes, but we would be told what to do, and we would
do it.

Met by silence from the rest of the coffle, the maker of the suggestion we
think of a new trick, said very quietly, "Sorry brother slaves.  I guess
that was the last vestige of `free' thinking that I need to quit having."
I think our silence showed our agreement with our brother slave's admission
and realization.

 We stood at the bars of our cage, thinking our owner would soon come to
reveal himself to his expensive purchase, but we waited and waited, and no
one came to claim us.  Finally we sat down on the concrete floor of the
cell, and watched many slaves sold after us leave tier cages, cross to the
loading dock and being placed in an amazing varieties of slave transport.
We saw a couple who seemed to be stuffed into the trunk of a car.

Finally a well-dressed man approached our cage, and we immediately arose
and assumed the presentation position.  Standing in front or the cage the
man said, "You have cost me a lot, but you WILL pay for your costs by doing
great public relations for slavery.  I have been making arrangements for
you to work year around.  In the months where slaves are working my fields
in New York you will be putting on shows to let the public know just how
well slaves are treated.

Then in the winter, you will be doing indoor shows both at my farm, and
other indoor places around the state to show citizens year around and in
places not near our large farms on which we use slave labor, just how
marvelous being a slave is.  We just kept in our display mode.  As he
stared at us, he smiled very broadly.  "Hell slaves, you may make being a
slave sound so great that perhaps I can get some of those young men to sell
themselves into slavery with us.  They might get a real shock when they are
chained in a real work coffle, and feel the whip, and live in a normal
slave pen at night.  But after the collar is on, a slave no longer has any
voice except to say `YES MASTER,' and do as told or face the pain of
disobedience.  Well anyway, the transport is ready, and you are on your
way.  See you at the farm slaves.  You will not face the whip, but I assure
you slaves you will earn me back my money."

With that another man came up to the cage with some chains, and soon were
chained together by our neck collars, and taken to a van that looked a lot
like the police paddy wagons.  We were moved inside, were chained to a
bench, and when the doors at the back of the van were closed we were in
darkness, and in darkness we traveled to our new home.

It was a long trip, and for a lot of it we seemed to be on an interstate
highway because we could feel that we were traveling at a high rate of
speed.  During this time, we did doze off and so we were not sure how long
that part of the trip really took.  However, we knew when we left the
interstate because suddenly we were stopping, and there was side to side
movement when we passed another vehicle.  We could even sense when we left
a major two lane highway, and began traveling on a secondary road of some
type. Finally we made a turn, and were traveling fairly slowly.  When we
stopped, and we heard the drivers of our transport talking to some guards,
apparently at a gate of some type, we got excited again.  We were home.  We
were ready to get released from our chained positions, and to move freely
(yes, I know no slave moves freely – but when a slave can move about
that is more free than being chained in one position for a long time.)  A
few more slow turns and we stopped, and we heard the guards get out of the
transport and come around, and the doors being opened.

They climbed in and released us from our restraints.  "Get your lazy slave
asses out of the van!"

was our welcome to our new home.  When were on the ground we assumed slave
rest positions, and while in that position sneaked a peak at our home.
Several large barns could be seen in our surreptitious scan.  They were
painted white and looked very well maintained.  It was late in the
afternoon judging from the sun's position.

!!  "Take these slaves to the intake and lock them up for the night.  They
are to be kept separate from any other intake slaves there, or who still
might come in.  These slaves are the new show coffle and the MASTER spent a
bundle on them.  You would not want to be around if some field slaves got
ahold of them and beat them up, and ruined their pretty looks."

"YES SIR CAPTAIN SIR!" was the respectful reply.  The captain left and the
two guards came over to us.  We had of course lined up in a straight line
as we had been taught.  "DISPLAY ASSHOLES!" was our friendly greeting.  We
of course snapped to the ordered position, and as our training had prepared
for us to do, we did it together.

"SHIT ALMIGTY!  Look at this prime slave flesh!"  The guard yelled at his
companion.

"Come over here and help me `inspect' these pieces of prime beef."

The other guard arrived, and in our display position we awaited whatever
would happen next.

What happened was that we were groped, felt up, butt slapped, and generally
given a complete "hands on" examination of our bodies, with special
attention paid to our cocks and balls, butts, and tits.

"Well, I heard that they cost a bundle, and I can see why.  These are six
pieces of prime A-1 stock."  The second guard said with great profundity.

 "Well prime or not slaves get processed, and these prime slave shits are
no better than any slave.

They need to be told what to do and how to do it by a superior free man,
and I am just the man to help these shits learn that uppity slaves are
whipped slaves."

He looked at us and yelled, as if because we were "dumb slaves" we were
also deaf.

"NOW SHIT FOR BRAINS.  YOU MAY HAVE FOOLED SOME OF THOSE GUYS AT THE
AUCTION, BUT WE KNOW ALL SLAVES NEED A FREE MAN TO KEEP YOU FROM FUCKING
UP.  WE WILL HELP YOU!"  With that comment he slapped his slave strap
against his leather boot.

We all knew, without saying a word to each other, that we would have to be
careful around this hick.  Still in display, we were ordered to follow the
first guard, which we did in our usual synchronized way.  We marched in
unison to a barn which had the word "INTAKE" over its door.

The first guard opened the door for us which I found funny that a free man
opened the door for six slaves, but carefully kept my normal slave face
with no change for him to note and correct.

Inside we saw the familiar line about three feet in front of a desk.
Sitting at the desk was a clearly overweight woman sitting at a computer.
She looked at the guards.  We were ordered to stop and we did so in our
normal line.

"So, this is the new coffle the Master bought that we have heard about?"

"Yah, supposed to be our show coffle, and from what we have heard they are
really good at talking as well as doing slave tricks."  our guards replied.

Of course no one thought about asking us anything.  We were slaves, and no
free person asks slaves questions of importance.

"Well line'em up and have them give me their SIN's and I'll get'em in the
inventory." she ordered the guards.

Again, all interaction was free person to free person, and we waited there
to be instructed.

"Slaves, stating with YOU, ..." and I got a swat on my rump, "respond with
your SIN when asked."

"SIR YES SIR!"  we all responded in unison There was some clicking of the
computer keyboard's keys, and finally the women yelled at me.

"SIN!"

Mentally I thought that it was funny that because she thought we were "dumb
slaves" that she had to shout to make us understand.  This woman was so
dumb that she equated intelligence with hearing ability, and the lower the
intelligence, the louder you had to yell to make sure you got through the
extra thick skull into the slave brain.  Mentally "I" knew who were the
real dumb ones in this dialog.

"MAME, SIN IS 613 – 210 – 541, MANE" I yelled.

This answer got me a really swift and hard blow from the slave strap across
my butt.

"NO RAISED VOICES TO A FREE PERSON SLAVE SHIT!"  the guard instructed.

"SIR yes SIR.  Slave thanks SIR for correction SIR."  I replied.

"Remember your place slave, or we all will help you learn it." the guard
snarled in reply.

The lady at the desk clicked away.

"That's strange" she said mostly to herself.  To the guards she said "This
enslavement order is signed by Judge Wayne Foreman of Onondaga County.
That's where I am from, and Judge Foreman retired several years ago, and I
don't understand why his signature is here on the enslavement order.  Again
as a slave I was a bystander to the conversation.  The comment again was
addressed to the guard; however, I knew that I could satisfy her curiosity.
The enslavement order was one that had belonged to a slave whose
enslavement was long ago enough that that actual slave was one of the
coffle which we replaced and became.  It was reasonable for the actual
order to be dated several years before, and I am sure that the dates had
been changed with the belief that no one would ever really know the actual
judge whose signature was on the order, and realize that the time frame did
not seem to fit.

"He probably was just sitting in to get some extra cash signing enslavement
orders." The talkative guard replied.  I noted his smug tone as he clearly
thought his reasoning powers were showing here, and possibly impressing the
overweight woman behind the desk and computer.

Keeping my slave face unchanged, I mused the guard and the lady clerk would
be a great pair, and their children would probably be so dumb that they
would end up being enslaved, and nature would reach its balance.

"You're probably right" she replied.  "Those judges sit on their asses and
do almost nothing and get paid bunches."

Again, I had to concentrate on my slave face and body, as if there was
anyone who just sat on his/her ass doing little for his/her pay, I thought
that it might be this woman, and though they had to work a bit harder
physically, our two guards seemed also on my mental list of free but not
overly bright.

"NEXT" she yelled, and normalcy was restored.  My brief hope that our
enslavement would be found to be fraudulent, and we would be returned to
our homes in Massachusetts with profound apologies, and perhaps payment for
indignities returned to the realm of slave brain fantasies.

Soon all of us were properly placed in the inventory of the farm, and we
were led to our slave pen.  We were surprised that it did not take us long
to arrive at the barn and our pen.  It was very close to the free person
area, and one in which there appeared to be many free men, women, and
children milling around, sipping drinks from paper cups.  It looked like
families at an amusement park, and in a sense we were to discover that this
appearance was not far from the truth.  We would work from a show slave
barn and pen, in a field which was indeed planted, cared for, and harvested
by us, but all this activity, and these facilities were for show, as were
we.  We were to find ourselves used to sell a lie.  The lie was that slaves
lived in barns and pens like we did, and that slaves were as handsome, well
fed, clean, and unmarked by whips as we were.  We were advertisements for
slavery.  We would sometimes see real coffle slaves come by us after the
tourists were gone.  Those coffles were being sent elsewhere, and had to be
deleted from the inventory as we had been entered into it.  These slaves
were mammoth, hairy, smelled, and were shackled by ankles, and wrists with
seriously heavy chains.  They also had a vacant stare and when we saw them,
we renewed our commitment to be the best show coffle in the world, and also
to realize that we were part of a fraud being given to all of Fairview
Farms' free person visitors.  They would see us, and think that they were
seeing the normal slave coffle.

What a fraud.  What a lucky fraud we were, and we knew with one mistake in
our being useful in perpetuating this fraud, we could find ourselves in the
mind numbing, back breaking, filth and misery of the real coffle slave.

 Time passed as we did several shows every day.  We would be doing pretend
work in the fields.  An announcer would call us to come to the fence and to
let free men, women and children see a real slave coffle.  The announcer
would announce that the coffle had prepared a show of their training, and,
if the audience would show their precision formations.  Of course the
audience fell into the trap and would yell for us to show our skills.  We
then would go into our precision marching and formations.  Audiences were
separated into ones with children and ones only with adults in them.  For
the audience with children we did tricks with the rakes and hoes.  We would
march around in precision, and would do poses showing our very impressive
musculature.

For adult audiences we finished they show with our very special
skill. Adults in the slave part of the US were familiar with the fact that
most slaves worked in the fields naked as there was no real reason to
clothe the slaves as the slaves were more work animals than
humans. Therefore after performing our precision marching, and our juggling
of farm implements, we did the trick that the adults all wanted to see.

We would march right up to the fence which separated us and our show field
from them, and we would shout.  "We who have violated society's rules, have
found purpose and satisfaction in working to serve and make life better for
free persons.  We would then pause, and as we shouted "We slaves salute the
free who we serve!" and at that dramatic moment, would pull the small knots
that held the front and back of our loin cloths together, and facing the
audience full on did our special trick.  We erected our cocks in unison.
The audience usually reacted with thunderous applause.  Some women would
pretend to be shocked, but we did not see that many women avert their eyes
from seeing well-muscled young male human animals salute them with their
unique male member.

We did at least four shows a day, and we also worked our field a bit for
the show.  However, all the real work for this show field was done by real
slave coffles after the audiences had been cleared from Fairview Farms.

Finally the summer came to an end, and autumn was here.  It was time for
the harvest, and soon we (with major help from the real slave coffles) had
harvested our wheat.  The air was crisp and the crowds were noticeably
smaller.  We talked in our pen at night at what we might do during the
winter.  We wondered if we would just be allowed to work out and keep
ourselves in proper slave shape during the winter for our show times in the
spring, summer, and fall.  We should have known that slaves cost too much
to just be allowed to lounge around in the cold New York winter.