Date: Wed, 15 Dec 2004 08:19:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 3

PLEASURE SLAVE, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 3

There started to be announcements over the PA system -
the kind you hear in airports and so on, starting with
a kind of "bing bong" noise, then done in a specially
soft, ingratiating tone. These informed the "esteemed
patrons" that the auction of "today's fine selection
of stock" would begin in thirty minutes, and then in
fifteen minutes.

I began to feel much more cheerful - the only buyer
who had shown any serious interest in me was the
cowboy, and he'd said he wanted a worker, and not a
slave for sex. I could work for him, I knew, and it
would be good to be able to use my body for good,
honest hard physical labour. I could just tell that
he'd be an owner who would be firm, but fair -
provided I put in the effort, he wouldn't punish me
just for the sake of it. In fact, I speculated, I
could come out of this quite well - ten years labour
on a ranch would not be stressful, the life in the
country, rather than the city, would be good for me,
and all the exercise would keep me in great shape. I
might even acquire new skills - I'd always wanted to
be able to ride horses, but could never afford the
hire rates.


Unfortunately, just after the fifteen minute
announcement, two men came up and stood looking at me.
One was big and overweight, like so many of the men
who had been gratuitously feeling my body, and the
other was tall and thin. The only thing that
differentiated the fat guy from all the other fat guys
who'd been humiliating me was that he was much more
flamboyantly dressed - instead of being grey, or dark
blue, his suit was brown, with a huge checked pattern
in yellow all over it - and he was totally immaculate:
not a hair out of place, his shirt crisp and perfect,
and a large yellow silk handkerchief flopped out of
his breast pocket. I learned later that this degree of
perfection in male grooming really only comes when you
have slaves to take care of every last detail, but
even now, I could tell that he was used to being
around slaves from the very different way he was
looking at me. He appeared to be sizing me up as a
whole, rather than just focussing on my pecs, or my
belly, or whatever, as some of the other guys had
done.

He turned to his companion - who looked sallow and
sour and as if he never smiled, and remarked "This is
just what we're looking for, I think."

"Oh no, not another of these muscle boys.... I keep
telling you, the fashion's going to change...."

"Yes, you keep saying it, but it hasn't in the ten
year we've been in business. Our clients will always
want a nice-looking clean- limbed athlete like this
one... You know that."

"But the expense - we could get a black for half the
price, or a Hispanic...."

"And that's not our market! You know that - we're
downtown, in the middle of the expensive hotels, and
the clients just want to play with the conventional
toned, well-put- together white guy. We've tried
having blacks and Hispanics, and you know as well as I
do that they just don't sell - if there are any
potential clients in those hotels who want that kind
of thing, they're after a cheap fuck anyway, and just
go and pick it up on the edge of the park - you know
as well as I do that if a business man is into dark
meat it's partially because of the excitement of
having a different colour under him, and that
excitement's heightened if there's the risk of picking
it up 'rough' on the street, and not from an
establishment like ours..."

"Yes, but this one will fetch top dollar, you know
that. There's other white guys here..."

"Yes, ex-cons and shit like that. Just look at those
hideous tattoos all over them. Mr corporate America
doesn't want to fuck an ex-con - he'd be scared out of
his mind that he'd get some disease or other, even if
we did give him our guarantee. Unless, as I said, he
liked the excitement of maybe being worked over, in
which case he picks it up off the street and doesn't
come to us anyway. So shall we stop fooling ourselves
that there's really any other choice, and take a
proper look at this one?"

The sallow man kind of shrugged, and clapped his
hands. A thin slave, who'd been hovering in the
background, at once came over and stood in front of
him, head bowed. I could tell this third guy was a
slave, of course - even if the word "slave" had not
been prominently tattooed across his belly, as was his
name "Gary", right across his chest just above his
pecs. His costume - or, rather, lack of it - would
have given him away: he was wearing only a pair of
blue satin shorts, and these were incredibly skimpy,
and his only other adornment was a big shiny
stainless-steel ring through the septum of his nose,
that hung down over his upper lip.


The slave can only have been about twenty two, and was
slight and thin, almost skinny: I felt certain I could
see all his ribs as he stood there in front of his
owner. Mind you, he had a nice, well- rounded ass as
the cut of the shorts left nothing to the imagination
there, and when he turned to face me, I saw that he
was exceptionally well hung for a guy of his size - I
could clearly see the outline of a dick about the same
size as my own pressed against his leg by the tight,
thin satin. The shorts rode so low down that in spite
of him having a totally hairless chest I knew that he
must be naturally dark haired - the hair on his head
was cropped so short that you could not make out the
colour properly, but the pubic hairs that straggled
out from the waistband of the shorts were dark black,
and wiry.

At a command from the fat guy he came over and simply
whipped away my kilt, so I was totally naked. Then,
kneeling by the side of me, he took hold of my dick
and began to jerk me off! The fat guy and his
companion just stood there, looking with interest, and
I blushed furiously and tried to get away - I'd never
had a guy handle me so shamelessly before, and I
certainly didn't want to spring a wood. The young
slave, as I tried to inch away from him, put his other
hand on my butt to hold me steady - I was much
stronger, and if I hadn't been shackled to the floor I
could easily have overcome this, but somehow the touch
of his wiry fingers on my ass was enough to remind me
that escape was impossible.

He carried on stroking my dick, and even though I
hated it and was totally embarrassed, the inevitable
happened - I mean, if you stimulate your dick enough,
it's going to go hard, isn't it? The two men looked
with interest at my dick, then the fat guy said to the
slave "Skin him back".

The slave stopped stroking my dick and used his thumb
and forefinger to tease my foreskin back off my dick
head. It came out, dark and moist, and now, in a way
that I had not even been during all my experiences so
far, I truly was totally naked. Without that small
sliver of skin covering me, I was now utterly and
totally exposed to these men in a way that I had never
been before to any other man.

The only other people who had ever seen my dick head
were my mom, and she not after I was about seven years
old - and some of my girl friends who were very
forward and who actually wanted to really experience
me (and as you guys will all know, a lot of women
don't really like to look at or touch guys' dicks
anyway, so not all the women I had had were interested
at all). But I'd never been exposed to another guy
like this before - I mean, in locker rooms and stuff,
you don't skin back, do you?  As I say, that feeling
of total and complete nakedness was probably the worst
thing I've ever felt in my life.

But even worse was to come! The big florid guy looked
down at the slave and said "I need to make sure he's a
good cummer. Jerk him off!"

I went to protest, and of course found that I could
not because of my bonds and the gag, and before I
could really think anymore, the young slave had
started to stroke my dick in earnest, jerking me off.
You know how it is when you're trying to jerk off
standing up - your knees kind of go weak: I don't like
it, so I never do it in the shower or anywhere, only
in a chair, or in bed. But there was no escaping the
insistent hand of the slave, and as he felt me try to
move backwards away from him, his hand on my ass
seemed to push me forwards gently - again, it was more
the psychological pressure than the actual physical
force, as had I not been cuffed to the floor, I could
easily have overpowered him. But he didn't seem
content with this - as his stroking got more and more
urgent, I felt his finger trying to slide between my
ass cheeks - I clenched them together to try to
prevent him, and he changed tack slightly, sliding his
whole set of fingers first between my thighs, then
moving them upwards. He was stroking that incredibly
sensitive area just behind my balls, and there was
nothing I could do to stop it - and it was making my
need to shoot become very desperate.

I really didn't want to do it - I mean, cumming is
something you absolutely do in private, isn't it - not
something to do when you're standing there being
looked at by two men, a slave, and the women in the
other row! But then it happened - I felt my balls
contract, and the next minute it was over, as my cum
streamed out, as it does. I moaned, and I suppose I
was easily audible even with the effects of the gag,
as the slave carried on stroking my dick. I'm one of
those guys whose dick is incredibly sensitive when
it's cum, and having the continuing stimulation was
more than I could bear. I almost thrashed around,
trying to get away, and was uttering stifled shouts
and pleas for him to stop.  He did it, of course, as
his owner wanted to see the total volume of my cum,
and so it was necessary to carry on and make sure that
all the "after shocks" were expressed from me. I've
got a strong dick, and I could feel the slave forcing
it downwards so that the cum could fall into his
outstretched palm (that is itself an odd sensation -
having a guy's hand pushing down on your rock solid
dick, when it wants to reach for the sky). One good
thing - at least he stopped scratching at my balls!

Moving to his feet in one smooth motion, the young
slave held out his cupped hand with my cum in it for
the two men to look at, and they actually did that
thing I've read about in slave stories - they dipped
their fingers and thumb into the rich white fluid and
rubbed them together to test the consistency of the
stuff. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Having
your most intimate fluid examined by other guys like
that! I mean, we all produce cum all the time, so we
tend to think of it as nothing much, something that
can be wasted into toilet tissue or a dirty T when we
jerk off: but, if you think about it, it's really the
essence of your manhood, isn't t? It's the stuff your
whole body is designed to produce, to make sure you
breed and carry your genes on to the next generation.
I'd gone past being worried about being naked, gone
past being shocked and horrified at my treatment, and
now all I could feel was anger - anger at the way in
which theses men has taken away my manhood, and were
treating me just as if I was some sort of animal. That
is exactly what they might have done at a livestock
auction, after all, when some prize bull was being
sold. But then, I suppose that's what I was to them -
a prize animal who was up for sale, and they were the
prospective buyers.

I don't know what else they might have done to me, but
just at that moment there was the "bonging" noise
again, and it was announced that viewing was closed
and that the auction would shortly commence. The two
men, with the slave trailing them, went off, and I was
left standing there wondering what the fuck they'd
been going on about - all that talk of the clients
liking a white guy, and so on. Liked a white guy what
for?  I didn't have much time to speculate, though, as
the guards came along undoing the manacles holding us
in place in the hall, and marshalling us into a line,
one woman, one man.

I assumed that they'd pick up my kilt and dress me
before we left, but no - I was just put in my place in
line, between two women, and all of us were ordered to
move off. We stopped, and I saw that the guy at the
head of the line was led up a few steps, a door
opened, he went through, and we all shuffled forward.
As we did so, the woman behind me misjudged it and
kind of half-stumbled into me - my cuffed hands, high
up my back, suddenly felt nipples and the special
texture of soft breast tissue, and my body took over,
before I could do anything about it - my dick went
rigidly hard, and as it did, the woman behind me kind
of pushed me into the woman in front; my rock- hard
dick was touching her satin shorts, and it made it
even worse for me - all this naked woman flesh, and my
total nudity, just made me go harder and harder. But
before I could do anything to will my dick to subside,
it was my turn to mount the steps and go through the
door.

On the other side was the auction stage- just a
slightly raised platform, really, but brilliantly lit
by spotlights, to show off the slave standing there.
All the slaves so far , whether men or women, had of
course been wearing their shorts, but I was totally
naked as you know, and, what's more, sporting an
erection! There was a big cheer from the crown as the
guard pushed me forward to the edge of the crowd, and
there was absolutely nothing I could do to hide
myself, as my hands were still cuffed firmly high up
my back.

"Male buck, twenty eight years old, ladies and
gentleman", the auctioneer was saying. "College
educated, and, as you can all see, he's got a nicely
toned and muscled body. He's so proud of it that he's
even decided to show us how one of those muscles that
we don't often see in action here on the stage is
functioning - a truly magnificent dick, I'm sure
you'll agree: nicely thick, and perfectly proportioned
to go with those long legs and flat belly. And, what's
more, ladies and gentlemen, unlike a lot of the flesh
we get through here, let me remind you again that this
one's a this one's a college boy - he's got a proper
college education, so would be ideal for all kinds of
work: manual labour with that body, special sex
services, given his cock, or most kinds of
administrative work, given his education. So, ladies
and gentlemen... Who's going to open the bidding with
fifty thousand? He's indentured for ten years, so
there's lots of good hard work in him for you."

I was really pleased to see the cowboy in the front
row of the audience, and with an easy nonchalance he
tilted a finger to say that he'd bid. My spirits rose,
but soon crashed, as the flamboyant fat guy raised his
hand when the auctioneer raised the bidding to fifty
five.  And so it went on - every time the cowboy bid,
the fat guy topped it. We went through a hundred
thousand, with the auctioneer continuing to point out
how little that was for ten year's salary for a
superlative specimen like me, then when we got to one
twenty, and the guy topped it with one twenty five,
but then the cowboy just shook his head, as if in
sorrow, and dropped out.

Look, I've been at auctions before, and I've bid at
some of them - once I even bid on a car I was
interested in, and it was really exciting. But now I
was more desperately interested in this auction than
anything ever before - I had been hoping and hoping
that the cowboy would buy me, and each time he bid
again, my heart rose, and each time, he was topped, I
slumped. And when I knew that he'd dropped out, it was
dreadful - I've never known disappointment like it
before. This auction really mattered to me in a way
that no other ever had - well, I suppose I had a lot
more riding on it: my whole future!

Nothing held up the pace of the auction, though, and a
guard hustled me off the stage, out through a door on
the other side, and I was pushed into a cage holding
the slaves who'd already been sold. As the rest of the
sold stock joined us it got a bit crowded, and with us
all still cuffed, it was inevitable that there would
be a lot of flesh to flesh contact. It was just about
OK for the others, but I was totally nude as they
still hadn't given me my kilt back. I had to really
hold my body in check to stop myself being
humiliatingly erect again as the odd nipple touched my
skin, and I was glad as the owners started to arrive
and take the slaves away, to give us more room.

Finally, I was the only one left. I stood there, and a
two guards started to discuss whether they should
uncuff me, or even dress me in the kilt thing that
seemed to be what stock wore at those auction rooms .

"No, leave him alone", his companion said. "This is
the uppity one who went onto stage erect - I mean,
what sort of guy would do that, showing himself off to
the world in that way? Still, that's slaves for you -
no sense of decency, not like us! So leave him naked -
perhaps it will cool him down a bit, before his owner
comes."

When they originally did appear, the fat guy and the
thin, sallow one not only had the young slave Gary
still in tow, but were accompanied by the doctor, who
had dealt with me the previous day.

"We've decided to have him done here", the fat guy was
saying. "You can arrange everything, I know. Same
treatment as the slave Gary here - show the doctor
your marks, Gary!"

The young slave at once turned around so that we could
all see again the huge words across his shoulders, the
smaller ones on his chest, and the word "slave" across
his belly.

"And, of course he's got to be skinned.", the fat guy
continued.

"High and tight, as usual?"

"Well, we've been debating that. I know it's more or
less traditional for slaves in our line of business to
be fully 'skinned, as it makes them look kind of
sleeker. But this one does have a really nice dick,
and a good-coloured head: I think we're going to be a
bit innovative here, try to start a new fashion, or,
at least a trend: he's got to be done, obviously, as
now he's drooping I find that small flap hanging down
there at the end very unaesthetic. But, at the same
time, I don't want him totally tight. What I want,
when he comes back, is to be able to see his piss slit
at all times, with perhaps a few millimetres of dick
head around it. The edge of the 'skin, at rest, should
be on the crown of the head it self. Can you do that?"


"Of course, sir", the doctor replied. "But we can't
guarantee it. There's so much potential variation in
the size of a slave's dick from day to day, and the
elasticity of the skin and so on, that although it
might look OK most of the time, at others it might
cover completely, or even 'skin back to leave the
whole head uncovered. Subject to those provisos, we're
happy to take the work on. But I have to caution you
that there are still all the disadvantages of his
method, just as if you'd left him whole - unless you
do the full 'high and tight', you have to be very,
very careful indeed to make sure he cleans himself
properly, or the smeg and stuff can still build up
under one of these half jobs."

"Oh, that's no problem, doctor. We pride ourselves
that the slaves are always squeaky clean for the
clients, and that would be part of his normal
cleaning."


Look, I'm not very good at this , really. I just can't
convey to you properly how awful it is to stand there,
naked and helpless, whilst other guys discuss your
dick and what's going to happen to your foreskin! I
mean, you ought to be able to choose for yourself,
oughtn't you? (well, at least once you're a grown man
- if you're 'skinned as a baby, there's not a lot you
can do about it). But imagine standing there, nude,
even if you've got an OK body, as I have, and having
other men discussing you!

"And I see from the tag that he's called 'Steve'. Is
that what you're going to continue to call him?"

"I suppose so. Changing a slave's name can help him
acclimatise to his new role, but 'Steve' is a good,
short, manly name that almost exudes power and
sexuality. I can't think of anything better, can you?
And we don't have a Steve at the moment, do we?"

The fat guy asked this of his companion, the sallow
one, who kind of shrugged, as if to indicate he didn't
care, and that seemed to be that.  The two men,
followed by the slave, walked off, and the doctor
stood there facing me.

"Now, old chap let's see to you. It must be pretty
uncomfortable cuffed like that, isn't it?"

I nodded vigorously, and the doctor called in one of
the guards to undo my cuffs. I stood there, swinging
my arms and rubbing my hands over my wrists, to try to
get some life back into them, and the doctor told the
guard that he could also remove my gag.  Man, it felt
good! To be able to move my tongue, to be ale to clear
the saliva out of my mouth, and I croaked "Thank you!"


"Hey, slave, just because I'm a doctor, and soft on
slaves, don't think you can forget your manners! All
men are' sir', remember? You'd better get used to it,
as some men take strong exception to a slave not
addressing them properly, and that leads to
punishment!"

"Thank you, sir...."

"Right... Though no time to lose - follow me, back to
the surgery, and we can get started."

I went to bend down to pick up the kilt that was lying
there, but the doctor snapped "Don't bother about
that! I've seen more slaves naked than you've had hot
dinners, probably. And you'd only have to take it off
again in my room, anyway."

I walked behind him along the corridor, strangely
silent now that the auction crowds and the slaves for
sale had disappeared, and in his surgery he motioned
towards a big kind of dentist's chair, and told me to
sit down.

"Now, Steve, are you comfortable?"

Well, I was, I suppose. The leather of it had been a
bit of a shock when I first sat down, as you're not
used to sitting bare-assed on leather, are you?

But I said "Yes, thank you, sir."

"Right then, old chap. I'll just need to strap you
down... I'm sure you're sensible and all that, but
some slaves have been known to be violent." As he said
this, he used strips of Velcro to bind my forearms to
the arms of the chair, then told me to lift my feet so
that they were on little platforms at the side, and
tied my calves down, too.

"Right, Steve. You may not have understood what your
new owners were saying. But they want us to deal with
your decoration for them - so that means the tattoos,
like that slave Gary you saw before, the nose ring,
and, of course, the 'skinning: that' s what it's
called in the trade here, but the medical term is
circumcision, for the avoidance of doubt. They don't
want an easy job done on you, though - the standard
'high and tight' that most men have - you're going to
be a trend-setter.... Did you hear that?"

"Sir, can you do that? I'm not a slave, really - I'm
an indentured servant. I know everyone calls us
slaves, but after my period of indenture I'll be a
free man again. I didn't think that owners of
indentured servants could alter your body. I don't
want all those tattoos, and I certainly don't want to
be circumcised, or 'skinned, or whatever, even if it's
only partial... I've grown up with my 'skin, and I
kind of like it... "

"Now don't be silly, Steve. I thought you were a
sensible chap! You don't want to upset your new
owners, do you?"

"But surely, sir, it won't upset them, if they're not
allowed to order it to be done to a servant! Surely,
they obey the law?"

"Look, Steve, I'll level with you. Strictly speaking,
a contract owner can't order the physical modification
of an indentured servant at all. That' s why it has to
be voluntary. You have to agree to it."

"Well, sir, I don't. So that's that!"

The doctor went to a cabinet, and came back with some
official looking form. He filled out a few things,
then held it up to me.  "Here you are then, Steve. The
standard waiver and disclaimer, giving me your
permission to do the necessary works on your body. All
you have to do it sign it."

"No way.... Sir!"

"Steve, sign it."

"NO!.... Sir."

The doctor sighed, and the next moment my body
exploded with pain. I screamed out, as my chest felt
as if a pan of scalding water had been thrown at it.

"Steve, slaves who don't obey orders get punished,
remember? That was a quarter power prod to your left
nipple. And this..... is a quarter power prod to your
balls."

He touched me "down there", and had I not been tied
down into the chair I'd have hit the ceiling, so
immensely painful was the jolt that went through my
balls. It was like being kicked, punched having your
balls scalded, all thrown in together.


"Look, Steve, I don't want to have to hurt you", the
doctor said, putting his face close to mine. "But it's
really quite simple. The Constitution does not allow
slaves to be modified against their will. But it also
allows owners to punish slaves, provided it does not
result in permanent damage to them, for refusing to
obey orders. So I have ordered you to give me your
permission to modify you, and you have refused, and so
I can punish you. And, old chap, I'll go on punishing
you until you obey. That's the slave's lot, you know -
obey, or get punished."

"Sir, please... They can't have meant it to work that
way when they brought in Indentured Servants...."

"Who cares, Steve? Who knows what Congress meant! But
the fact remains that you can only be modified
voluntarily, or else the ASPCS will be down on me like
a ton of bricks if they find out, and the medical
insurance people won't like it much either! I've
ordered you to sign the voluntary waiver, and until
you obey, you'll have to be punished."

"Now, that was quarter power to your nips, and to your
balls. Shall we try half power?"  As he said his, my
world exploded once again as he touched me. When the
thrashing in my body subsided, I realised I could
hardly speak, and was sobbing.

"Now, Steve, come on... Don't be stupid - you're more
intelligent than most of the morons I get through
here. You know what quarter power is like on your
balls, and half power on your nips now - do you really
want to experiment with the half power on your balls?
And then, remember, there's three quarters, and full
power..... You can't win, you know. You're supposed to
be college educated - see reason, and save your
strength for the fights you CAN win, not those where
you're doomed to failure."

Well, he was right, wasn't he? Strapped down in this
chair, I could go on getting harsher and harsher
punishments until I ultimately caved in. So what was
the point? I clawed in the air with my hand, he put a
pen in it, and I scrawled my signature on the
document.  The doctor smiled, and said condescendingly


"There, sensible chap! Now, let's get started...."  He
wheeled a little trolley between my legs, sat down
there, and put my dick onto a snowy white cloth - it
looked like one of those big German wursts or
something, on sale at the market.

"Now, this is going to be tricky, so it will take some
time. But it's kind of interesting, isn't it, to give
you a trend-setting new look?"

"Am I supposed to brace myself for the pain, sir?" I
muttered, kind of ironically.

"Don't be so stupid, Steve! Do you think I'm some sort
of butcher? I'm a doctor, remember. Me, the AMSPCS and
the doctors' organisations all say that unnecessary
pain should be avoided in slaves, just as much as in
men. I know that in slave fiction guys always get
'skinned without anaesthetic, but that's just so that
writers can give their readers a little thrill! In the
real world, I always deaden it, the more so as this
one's going to be tricky...."

As I watched, he drew something up into a syringe,
sprayed a little out of the end, as they do to dispel
the air, then plunged it down into my dick head.

End Of Part Three