Date: Tue, 8 Nov 2005 19:54:12 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: SURPLUS SALE II:  Taking the Slaves Home (Authoritarian)

		  SURPLUS SALE II: TAKING THE SLAVES HOME

			       by Bill Smith

     The five brand new slave owners took the cheap leashes furnished them
by the sales agents and fastened them to the slave collars of their new
possessions.  Overwhelming pride ran through all five of them as they
hooked the leashes to the collar rings and ran their hands over the naked
hides of their purchases hardly able to believe that they now owned lock,
stock, and barrel these beautiful pieces of flesh standing meekly before
them.

     "I've never seen anything quite so pathetic," one of the sales agents
laughed.  "You guys are so horny I doubt you can even walk unless you
unload.  First time owners are usually that way if they're under 30," he
winked.  "They just can't wait to try out their new purchases.  Don't
worry, we'll let you use the stock barn over there if you don't mind
getting a little dirty straw on you here and there.  Not much privacy - no
individual stalls or anything - but at least there's a place to fuck your
new boys before starting home with them."

     He pointed to a nearby barn where we saw some other new purchasers
with their slave boys already being put to use.  There the newly purchased
slaves were either on their backs in their straw with their legs wide apart
and over their head with their holes fully exposed, on their hands and
knees with their asses positioned for a good fucking doggie-style, or on
their knees with their mouths already opened wide for swallowing their new
master's prick with a resigned look on their faces. It was hard to tell
whether these other slaves were looking forward to the forthcoming
activities or whether they had learned long ago to just accept their fate
and hide whatever they might feel about being fucked so publicly like this.

     "Want to use the facilities here, walk home stiff legged and dripping,
or just fuck your slaves in public on the way home?  Doesn't matter to me
one way or the other."

     The five of us took one look at each other and unanimously thanked the
sales agent for his offer of the stock barn.  Hurriedly we tugged on our
slaves' collar leashes and joined the other masters in the barn who were
already undressing, getting their slaves positioned, and making use of some
lube being passed around courtesy of the sales agent.  As we five started
to strip, those who had beat us to the barn were already plunging into
their slave's holes and within a short time the place was filled with moans
of submission, an occasional squeal of pain, grunts of passion, the smell
of warm lubricant, hot semen, and sex sweat.  As the action heated up,
butts were being smacked, gasps of pain were heard occasionally, groans of
submission, and the steady sound of heavy breathing, skin rubbing skin, and
sighs of pleasure filled the air.  To the experienced ear of the sales
agents, it was the familiar sounds emanating from most any slave training
facility or the rutting sheds of the slave breeding farms located
throughout the area.  To those new to slaves, like ourselves, it was the
sound of unrequited delight and the exquisite relief one found in using
bodies whose sole function at the moment was offering us pleasure.

     All of us weren't satisfied with one round and, as soon as we had shot
a full load into our new purchases, we started in again as most around us
were also doing.  A good 30 minutes later, George, Jacob, and myself were
totally drained, but Bret and Jeff humped away for another 10 minutes or so
before they finally rolled off the backs of their newly purchased boys.

     When we looked around, most of the other buyers had left - only two
were left.  One was having his slave, a handsome black boy, fuck himself on
his owner's still stiff shaft, the boy gently lowering himself up and down
on his master's prick as the owner lay passively below him, obviously too
tired to fuck the slave directly.  The other had his slave, a heavy hung
Latino, sucking on his now limp prick as if somehow the slave might be able
to excite him once again despite his being totally drained by the Latino
slave already.

     "You guys must have pumped a gallon of spunk into those slaves," the
sales agent smirked.  "When was the last time you got off, anyway?  I
thought you'd never get through so I could close up the barn here."

     "Thank you, sir," Bret managed to gasp out as he finally withdrew from
his slave's ass.  "I never knew sex could be this good," he smiled at the
agent.

     "Having your own boy at your disposal is always best," the agent said.
"Even though I have access to thousands of the offerings here at the market
each and every day, I still like it best when I'm fucking my own slave boy
that I bought last year.  Something about actually owning them that makes
the difference, I think.  It's just more satisfying knowing their body is
all yours anytime you want it anyway you want.  But enough chit-chat.  I
need to close up and you need to get these slaves to their new homes."

     "That we do," Bret laughed, "although their legs are going to be
covered in cum leaking out of their hole before we get home.  Everyone will
know just by looking at them what we've been up to."

     "Who cares?" the agent replied.  "Everyone knows slaves are to be
used, so you don't need to be embarrassed about a little cum dripping down
the back of their thighs.  That would be fine if you were taking the slaves
to a neighborhood where people are used to seeing slaves.  But my guess is
you boys live down in the low-rent district where slaves are rarely seen,
let alone beauties like these.  Just seeing a collared neck is a phenomenon
down in those districts, let alone a totally naked body on a leash.  You'll
need to sneak them home if you don't want to see them raped or even
kidnaped."

     "You're right about seldom seeing a slave down where we live other
than a few old ugly municipal slaves fixing the streets now and then or the
occasional black-market slave being featured in the back room of a bar.

     "Oh, so you do have slaves for sale down there?" the agent asked.

     "Just some real runty culls bought dirt cheap off some wholesaler or
some fresh meat kidnapped far enough away he can't be traced.  The bars
either buy them cheap and then set up as the backroom whores at a fee
everyone can afford or peddle them off a real low price without papers. You
pay your price and take your chances that way, but few of them are worth
much anyway - scrawny, ugly, used up, or, if they are hung well, fucked to
death by the time we see them.  Buying slaves illegally usually ends up
with you owning nothing - not with the papers to prove you actually own the
bastards. Besides, most of them haven't had any training to speak of and
are totally unbroken unless they're stolen bred slaves. That means you have
to keep them chained up all the time and always have a whip handy to get
anything out of them.  That's what the bars do with their boys: chained up
to saw horses in the back room with a gag in their mouth and wide open
holes so used it almost turns you off.  If you buy a boy in a back alley,
he's heavily shackled, gagged, and usually plugged so he can barely walk.
Get him home and he won't do nothing until you take a stun gun to him, whip
him raw, or starve him to death. Of course, some buyers like a slave that
hates getting fucked - raping them is half the fun as they scream and curse
when you're skewering them.  But many of them die on you if you're not
careful - impacted with worms a lot of times, ridden with some sexual
disease, or, most likely, tubercular with all their exposure to the cold
and poor diet. Besides, most of them are short-changed in the dick and
overall looks department - anyone hung even half-way decent who is even
interesting to look at is sold off to the legitimate dealers. "

     "That's just what I thought," the agent said. "Nobody down there can
afford anything for themselves, yet alone anything decent looking."

     "I hadn't thought about what a sensation these handsome slaves naked
as the day they were born will cause down in the slums. Have you got
anything to hide them in until we get home?  A big box, maybe or some old
dirty clothes.  Once we get them in our apartments they'll be O.K. as long
as we don't let them out."

     "We've got some old clothes we rip off those newly captured prior to
their training that we keep in that little shed over there just for this
purpose -sometimes we need to take a slave into areas not used to slaves
and we generally cover them up, including their collars, until we get them
safely delivered.  Help yourself.  No one will notice a few items gone.
Besides, that's what the rags are for."

     With that invitation, we quickly routed around, found some decent
coverings of old pants, some ragged turtle-neck shirts that would cover
their slave collars, and a few lengths of rope to keep the pants up.  Shoes
and socks weren't needed nor was underwear - few free people in our
neighborhoods could afford such luxuries.  When we had them `dressed' in
the loose baggy pants and their old dirty shirts, they looked little
different than any one else trudging home from a long day at the factories
other than their good looks and radiant good health, both hidden by fitting
them with old baseball caps pulled low on their foreheads. To maintain
security, we tied the cheap plastic leash around the base of their balls
and ran the cord out the top of their pants to our hand, maintaining a good
grip at all times so the slaves didn't get any ideas about running off.  We
knew people wouldn't notice the cord if we kept the slaves close to us and,
as even we knew,
 slaves seldom caused the slightest bit of trouble when you had their balls
practically in your grip.  Our slaves quickly dressed themselves with the
rags, but found the feel of clothing strange after being naked for so long
and wiggled around a bit until they got use to it although it was obvious
they preferred the freedom of movement being naked afforded them and which
they had gotten used to over the years.  Since the slaves' faces were too
good looking to not attract attention, we ordered them to look down at the
ground at all times and simply follow the tugs on their leashes when
following us home.

     The ruse worked just as the agent had suggested.  No one paid the
slightest bit of attention to 10 people trudging home from a hard day of
work dressed in the typical outfits of the working poor.  Even the cum
pouring out of our slave's asses didn't matter - the pants simply soaked it
up as we walked along and the resultant stains weren't noticeable in that
the pants were so dirty and stained to start with, a few more dark spots
didn't matter. Nor did their huge hard-ons tenting up in the baggy trousers
prove to be a problem.  Most workers in the low rent district showed hard
half the time due to their inability to find enough sexual outlets in their
bleak world.  After all, it wasn't as if anyone had slaves to conveniently
keep them drained and free from any sexual frustration.  Being poor and
single in this world and being in chronic sexual need were synonymous
unless you were married to your right hand but even that only went so far
with real need.  I reflected as to how you never saw men sporting boners in
the rich districts.  Their bevy of ever willing slaves, male and female
dependent on their preference, took care of their needs long before it
became public.  Yes, I mused, the thought of making slaves available at low
cost to the masses would solve a lot of problems - starting with all that
sexual frustration you saw in my neighborhood each and everyday.  An
attractive compliant slave boy at your beck and call would solve a lot of
frustration in this world as the rich had already obviously discovered.
Now maybe it was our turn for a change now that breeding slaves in huge
quantities had lowered the price down to affordability even for us.  Hooray
for all those busy rutting sheds that were proving so productive.

     As I looked over at my particular slave, the handsome Latino with his
full head of black hair, his dashing good looks, and creamy brown skin, I
realized he could take care of my needs as well as my friends and still be
able to address some of my neighbor's sexual issues for a fee.  In fact,
all five of us could set up a small bordello right there in the
neighborhood and not only offer a solution to our neighborhood's chronic
sexual frustration but make a considerable sum ourselves - perhaps enough
to cover a good part of the monthly payments if they were managed right. We
had so many frustrated single women, divorcees, and old widows down in our
neighborhood they alone could use up his services if the fee was
affordable. But the male market was more likely.  Men in our neighborhood
preferred to fuck males: no complications with pregnancy; no need for birth
control; no confusion about `loving' anyone; and males were always better
when it came to sucking you off - they knew what it was all about and went
about the task without any fuss generally.  Besides, most males, even male
slaves, had asses much tighter than any pussy and when their anal muscles
gripped your prick just before shooting off, you knew you were going to get
drained properly.  Nevertheless, my Latino slave had the sexy look and the
huge dick woman liked so there were possibilities, but the men I knew liked
those looks and equipment even more it seemed.

     I shared this thought with my four friends as we led our new purchases
swiftly to their new homes in the ghetto. At first they wanted to keep the
slave's goodies confined to just our own use, but after a couple more miles
and some reflection, they realized a healthy, well-trained slave could not
only take care of all our needs but still have plenty of energy left to
satisfy dozens of others, male and female, as well.  I suggested $10 a use
with even three neighbors a day, and we'd have more than enough to meet the
monthly payments even taking their food costs into account.

     "Say I used by slave four times a day myself and the rest of you used
him at least once apiece," George, ever analytical, thought aloud.  "That's
only taking it up the ass or whatever eight times a day.  It won't hurt
them to get fucked 12 or more times a day once they're well broken in and
used to it.  Hell, at the training center I work for part time, they train
slaves to take up to 20 clients a day when they're being trained for the
brothels or for party use.  Even then, they tell me a well-trained slaveboy
can last up to ten to twenty years being fucked like that if you exercise
him well and feed him properly.  And if they're sucking us all off, think
of all the protein snacks they'd be getting which would cut down on what we
had to feed them.  They say a cup of hot cum is equal to a half-pound of
slave chow in nourishment.  Of course," he laughed, "a full cup of cum is a
hell of a lot of loads being swallowed."

     "That Italian of mine could probably handle the load," Jeff chimed in.
"When I fucked him over and over back in the barn he grunted and groaned
like he could do it all day with a big smile on his face.  I think he likes
getting fucked instead of always having to do the fucking himself with no
relief, like with that lady that owned him last.  The agent told me he had
to fuck her six or seven times a day on the average and that didn't count
when she loaned him out to her lady friends.  That's pretty exhausting day
in and day out when you think about it.  No wonder he seemed so eager to
have me buy him."

     "Oh, Jeff, he just liked the fact you're well built yourself and as
young as he is," Jacob joined the conversation.  "If you were a slave on
the auction block, wouldn't you want a master who had a decent body, was
young enough to still be attractive, and, in your case, have a good sized
dick to boot?"

     "Yeah, but all things being equal, I'd like a rich master who had a
nice house and a lot of luxuries around, not just some poor jerk like me,"
Jeff replied.

     "Nothing satisfies like a nice body and a good prick," Jacob replied.
"That's why all those slaves down at the construction sites are always
begging me to fuck them."

     "Yeah," Jeff shot back, "but a slave could always hope for a master
young, well hung, AND rich.  If you were a slave, Jacob, you know damned
well you'd be fucked around the clock with your body and equipment.  Since
that's a given, wouldn't you want an owner who had a nice young body, a big
dick for you to suck and take up your ass, and some pleasant surroundings
with a few luxuries thrown in, like air-conditioning, good quality slave
chow, and a nice rug to sleep on when you weren't being used"

     "Have to agree with you on that, Jeff," Jacob replied.  "I'm not so
sure I would mind being a slave under those cushy circumstances, especially
if I got showed off in public a lot."

     "You've love it and you know it," Jeff laughed.  "I'm surprised you
haven't sold yourself to a dealer already the way I saw you posing back at
the slave dealers."

     "Well, if I could be assured of the right buyer," Jacob laughed with a
wink. "In the interim, I'm going to enjoy that hunk I bought for myself."

     "Can't have it all," George said.  "A slave's lucky to stay out of the
mines, let alone get fussy about whose fucking him."

     "Those newly enslaved down at the courthouse don't give a damn who
fucks them or how much as long as they get fed and aren't sent down to the
salt mines or assigned to one of the city's road gangs," Bret added.
"Everything's relative as far as a slave is concerned.  A withered old
mistress with yellowed skin and more wrinkles than skin who demands a good
fucking five times a day while she beats their butt is better than the
living hell of the mines.  Every slave, even the brand new ones, know that,
so I figure these slaves think they're damn lucky to be bought by us, even
if we do decide to have them fucked around the clock.  Don't you agree,
slaveboy" he directly asked his own slave being led along by his tight
genital leash.

     "Yes, master," the boy answered immediately without lifting his eyes
up from the road.

     "Yes, what, slaveboy?" he prompted with a jerk to the leash.

     The 18-year-old American slave was obviously confused at this new
question, but knew he had to say something.  "Being fucked steadily by
whoever master wants is fine if that is what my master wants.  It is much
better, as you suggest, master, than being sold to the mines or having to
service an ugly old mistress all the time although I would, of course, work
in the mines or try to please the old mistress if my master so desired."

     "A clever answer, slaveboy.  But would you like getting fucked a good
ten to twenty times a day?" Brett pursued the slave's response.

     "No master, probably not, but a slave has no choice in the matter.  He
is to please his master in whatever the master wants."

     "What would you like better if you did have a choice, slave?" Brett
teased the slave.

     "Fucking a young woman of my own choice, master, if you want the
absolute truth.  But slaves have no choice in their lives - it is the
master's choice that matters."

     "Well said, slave," Bret replied.  "All of us, even slaves I suppose,
can dream of a better life, although I might suggest you are as close to a
good life as a slave is lucky enough to have - at least for now."

     "Yes, master.  I appreciate that and will do anything, anything at
all, to try to maintain that good life," the slave said humbly and with
considerable conviction.

     With that, Bret knew he had made a good choice with his recent
purchase.  He was obviously well trained as well as totally accepting of
his status.  He only hoped his friends had been as fortunate in their own
choices of slaves.  He could hardly wait to get his new slave home and into
his own bed where he fully intended to fuck him steadily for the next 12
hours if all went well.

     Just then, they ran across a `street dealer' trying to sell a slave
right there on the street.

     "You know a lot of those slaves bought up at the court house are being
resold by street dealers if they're young, good looking, and hung like a
horse," Bret commented as we all studied the slave being offered.  "I see
more and more of them right outside the courthouse anymore, peddling their
wares who are all close shackled and in those tight stretch
semi-transparent slave shorts that show everything they have."

     The slave being offered for sale right in front of us was a very well
built boy not a day over 18 sporting a huge hard-on through his near
transparent skin-tight shorts that looked to be at least 12 inches long and
thick as a donkey with tits so big on his muscular chest they looked like
they belonged on a woman.  As we stopped briefly to watch, every once in a
while, the dealer peddling him would reach over and stroke the boy back to
a full erection so he showed well all the time or pinched his big tits so
they were kept swollen also.  As I stood and watched, two professional
athletes looked him over thoroughly, pulled down his shorts and finger
fucked him a while to test his tightness, I suppose, and then kneaded his
balls to see how full they were I guess. They even sucked his tits a little
until both of them swelled up a bit.  While they were doing all that, a
middle aged woman asked to feel the slave's body also, including a lot of
stoking that huge prick until I thought the boy was going to spill.  Before
long, she bid $40,000 for the boy right then and there, but the two
athletes, built like brick shit-houses themselves, outbid her finally at
$43,000.  She was ticked at losing the slave boy, but the two athletes made
it up to her.  They invited her home with them where they said she could
fuck the new purchase to her heart's content as long as they could watch.
She thanked them and, once the dealer had all the ownership papers and bill
of sale filled out properly, the four of them took off for the athlete's
apartment.  I imagine that poor slave was really drained before that day
was up as well as have some solid loads packed up his ass.

     Our own slaves, judging from the huge erections tenting out in front
of their trousers, were as interested in the scene as we were and were
obviously turned on by the two hunky athletes, the slave being offered for
sale, or the woman interested in buying the well-hung slave for herself.
When the slave sold for $43,000, they looked shocked and downright envious.
I suppose I would be envious too if I had sold for a mere $20,000.  To a
slave, purchase price was an evaluation of their worth.  To them, the slave
sold to the athlete was obviously twice as good as they were and they were
apparently trying to ascertain whether it was due to his big juicy tits,
his long, thick prick, his very muscular body, his sultry good looks, or
just plain luck to run across buyers with that much money to spend on a
slave.

*******

     The five new owners made only one stop on the way home with their new
purchases: the slave supply shop.  There they each purchased a few
necessary supplies: a 50 pound sack of regular slave chow (cheap and
nourishing but tasteless), a large tube of lube, a permanent leash, and a
cheap cast iron neck collar and genital band that was available in
different sizes and widths and which could be installed easily with a
special unbreakable glue.  The collar had a place where a simple aluminum
owners identification and address tag was glued on to assure everyone would
know which slave belonged to whom.  The genital bands had a smaller but
similar identification band to demonstrate ownership of the slave's sex
organs as well (as well as give the slave an important chronic reminder),
but were mainly installed to make sure the slave's organs were prominently
displayed at all times, were convenient and readily accessible at all
times, and were "out of the way" when serious work was required. They each
also purchased the traditional slave enema kit, essential when slaves were
being fucked regularly, and the standard body shave equipment.  Altogether,
it set each of the new owners back about $50 since the equipment was all
just standard fare and certainly nothing showy or special.

     The slave supply shop featured a special display where a fully
harnessed slave, well built and no more than 20, was putting on quite a
show as he jumped on tippy-toe to the task of swallowing and then fully
sucking on their new line of super-sized dildos suspended from the ceiling
above him while a handler, whip in hand, supervised.  Once capturing a
dildo in his mouth, the slave proceeded to swallow the enormous piece of
soft plastic all the way down his throat so that his throat muscles
outlined the intrusion while he massaged it still balanced on his
toes. With the crack of a whip over his back, the slave spit that dildo out
and then jumped to capture another one, even bigger, suspended above, again
swallowing it whole the minute he had it. He was clothed in a tight fitting
pair of pants that indicated the show was going to move out into the street
shortly, especially since the suspended dildos were on a rack that the
handler could hold over the slave's head outside. The trained slave was
especially interesting in that although he was body shaved, the shop had
let his facial hair grow out for several days to give him a rugged look
that blended in well with his leather harness. A tag on his harness
announced his asking price: $33,000 - not bad for a cute trained animal
like this who certainly demonstrated he knew how to suck anything put to
him, but it could be those pants, despite a decent bulge, hid just an
average dick.

     The slaves were made to carry the feed and equipment in large bags
over their shoulders, each happy that at least there would be something for
them to eat and that they wouldn't be fucked dry with all that lubricant in
tow. Not one of the new purchases ever entertained any thoughts about not
being fucked regularly.  Every slave handler they'd ever come across
implied that's what slaves did; the sales agents certainly made it clear
that's why anyone was buying them; and their new owners had already
demonstrated less than an hour ago that fucking them was why they had
bought them. Even now the talk was about how many times a day they would be
fucked and by whom; not whether or not they would be fucked. A well lubed
asshole was essential for such usage they all knew and the purchase of the
big tubes of lube was reassuring.

     But the newly installed genital rings would take some getting used to
they were discovering as they walked along.  Somehow, having your organs
forced out in front of you changed your center of balance and it took a
while to adjust your walking style to accommodate to the change, especially
when you were heavy hung as all of them were.  It also changed their
appearance in the dirty old pants - a big bulge was now noticeable even in
the loose fitting pants even when they weren't erect.  The slaves could
only imagine what it would look like if they had been fitted in the tight
fitting ultra-thin lycra shorts like some slaves were outfitted with where
dress was required.  It was obvious, thought, that when they were stripped
down to nothing, as would be their usual lot, their sex would now be
prominently displayed at all times and certainly convenient for an owner's
handling.

     The cast iron collar surprised them in its heaviness and at first they
tried to hang their heads down as a reaction to the weight.  But they were
all three inches tall so it forced the slave's heads up at all times.  The
tight fit around their necks was a constant reminder they were no different
than any other livestock now and the collar would tell the world exactly
what they were with absolute clarity.  Right now, their turtle-neck shirt
covered the heavy device, but, once the shirt was off, the collar
publically announced they were bought objects just as their thick, heavy
genital rings told everyone their sex was there for all to use if it so
pleased their owner and, if not, was certainly to be fully displayed for
everyone's enjoyment.

     Within 15 minutes, they were at their new homes and respectively, each
were told to remove their clothing - the last clothing they would wear for
a long, long time they figured , unpack their supplies, give themselves an
complete enema with the new kit, shower, lube themselves completely, and
then position themselves kneeling beside the bed so they could suck their
new master to a full erection before leaning over the side of the bed for a
good fucking.  The slaves remembered to show their asses well as they
removed their clothing.  They all knew exactly why they had been bought and
prepared themselves for heavy usage.

     Jeff's young Italian slave had part of his harness on as Jeff ordered
him on his hands and knees to be fucked doggie style. Jacob's hunky slave
found a old motorcycle to sit on to display himself in Jacob's workshop
before Jacob had him bend over the motorcycle to take the first of many ass
fuckings that night.  Jacob liked a slave that was well hung, muscular, and
eager to please. All of the new slaves, Jacob's included, had to utilize
their sucking skills immediately before being fucked.  Bret's American boy
seemed to know every trick in the book when it came to bring a master
pleasure.

     Amazingly, all five owners followed the exact same procedure with
little variation.  They all wanted to be sucked to a full erection before
fucking their new purchase; they all wanted to initially fuck their new
slave either over the side of their modest little bed or over the arm of a
worn old armchair.  Only later in the evening would variation occur.

     Bret had his American slave on his back with his legs up over his
shoulders most of the night because he liked to see his slave's reactions
as he steadily fucked him.  Jeff had his Italian slave on his hands and
knees most of the night as he fucked him doggy-style, the technique he used
most frequently when fucking the construction slaves he worked alongside
of.  George had his black slave on his knees with his mouth and throat
wrapped his new owner's shaft most of the night - George loved to mouth
fuck probably because he was tired of assfucking, the technique he used to
"open up" the new slaves at the training facility he worked at.  Jacob
fucked his muscular slave on his back for a while but then he got on his
own back and had the slave fuck himself on his massive tool for hours and
hours until the slave could no longer support himself with his aching
thighs whereupon Jacob had the slave get on his hands and knees and open
himself up wide for a last round of "opening up."  I had my Latino suck me
off to a full discharge, then lick my entire body, then I fucked him on his
back with his legs wide apart and his hips uplifted for my entry, and
finally, lowered my ass onto the slave's swollen organ to see what it would
feel like taking such a huge shaft up my own backside.  I wasn't
disappointed with this last adventure.  The Latino pumped into me gently
until my prostrate was so stimulated I had about the best orgasm I have
ever experienced - it shot all over the Latino's face, chest, and hair but
I was hungry anyway and enjoyed licking it all off as a little late night
snack.  Since I had ordered the slave to not shoot off himself while
fucking me, I then stroked him off to a full discharge which I took
directly into my own mouth for yet an additional snack.  The Latino's
eruption was plentiful, thick, and very tasty with an unusual fresh taste I
couldn't quite place.  I realized then and there I could always sell this
slave as a milk stud if I ever tired of him - he was a natural for that
with his huge organ, his huge discharge, and the nice fresh taste of his
output.  Some old geezer into drinking a young stud's cum as a youth elixir
would pay a pretty penny for this Latin gusher.

     Overall, all five slaves were tired and sore by morning as were their
new owners.  No one budged from the beds until well past noon when hunger,
a mass of sticky cum, and dry throats got slaves and masters into the
showers and something to eat.  Soon after another complete enema, a fresh
lube, and then a total body shave, the slaves were put to fixing fried
eggs, toast, and orange juice for their owners while pouring out a cupful
of slave chow alongside a dish of water for their own nourishment as
instructed.

     Following a little exercise, the evening repeated itself for the main
part all afternoon long.  Positions were varied but outside of that, the
slave's found their holes once more repeatedly pounded into, their throats
stretched once again, and their stomachs filled with yet more batches of
steamy hot cum.

     By late afternoon, the cleanup and feeding procedure was again
followed, this time in preparation for the joint meeting of the five new
owners where the plan was to share their new slaves.  That meant everyone,
slaves and owners alike, were going to be mighty sore and chafed by morning
- the slaves would know fully why they had been purchased; the owners would
know they were certainly getting their money's worth.

     As scheduled, the five met at my place since I had the largest
apartment - two beds, two sofas, and some thick rugs on the floor.  Our
plan was to each sample all five new slaves, each doing whatever we wanted
with the new bodies at our disposal and then, if our energy held up, pick
out a favorite for the rest of the night, but a slave who wasn't our own
for variety's sake.

     The plan worked exactly as we had hoped.  Everyone to a man loved my
Latino's abilities in bed matched by his good looks; we all loved Jacob's
hunky slave who apparently was totally heterosexual and resented being
fucked himself but knew he could do nothing about it as a slave (it was his
barely hidden resentment we enjoyed as much as anything); Jeff's Italian
slave was charming in his passivity and ready acceptance of whatever we
wanted him to do and he was certainly a looker; and Bret's American slave
was cute and cuddly even when he moaned in pain from the heavy usage and a
slightly breeding ass by this time.  But George's black slave was the
sensation.  Three of us, myself included, had never bedded down a black and
found the experience exotic, especially with such a well hung, good looking
one as George had purchased.  I think, before the night was over, George's
black got fucked more than any of the others but it was hard to tell -
every slave was well used that night, to put it mildly.  George took a
shine to my Latino, probably because he was one-eighth black reportedly but
more likely because he was so well hung and muscular while I loved his own
black.

     So that's who I ended up with the rest of the night.  I had George's
black; Bret bedded down with Jacob's big heterosexual hunk in that he loved
the sullen resentment that smouldered in his dark eyes as he was deeply
fucked over and over and over; Jacob took Bret's American boy for a full
evening of heavy fucking in that boy's unusually tight ass; and Jacob ended
up with Jeff's harnessed Italian boy who not only groaned from his own
soreness, but actually broke into tears when the huge well built hunk
plunged up his hole all the way and started pumping so heavily the young
boy thought he would be split in half before the night was over. The tears
and groans were exactly what turned Jacob on and he made sure the slave
under him was fucked so hard his crying and moaning only became more
intense as he night wore on.

     George's black slave had to douche everyone's cum from his hole before
lubing and preparing for me to use him for the night.  He seemed resigned
to such heavy usage and was certainly something to look at as well as
offered up a great fuck.  My own long-haired Latino slave was used all
sorts of ways that night and everyone appreciated his talent in both taking
it up the ass for our utmost pleasure but his ability to take load after
load directly down his throat with little fuss. Jeff's Italian slave was
popular with all of us due to his ready acceptance of what was expected of
him.  His freshly slaved body was a real turn on and his well trained ass
not only looked nice but was a real pleasure to fuck.

     All five slaves were completely used up by night's end, but soon were
doing their assigned household chores and recuperating for another busy
night of heavy usage by their individual owners.  But the night after that,
we agreed we would draw straws on who got to use which slave, all of whom
would be freshly shaved, lubed, and dripping hard by that time.

     Like our slaves, by morning all five of us were totally spent.  The
slaves, well, they could barely move they were so sore and used.  That day
was spent recovering and the slaves were left alone outside of being
ordered to do the simple household chores expected of any slave, like
cleaning up the place, fixing our meals, helping us bath, doing the laundry
and making our beds.  Those chores kept them busy, even in my small
apartment, but, once done, each of my friends took their slaves back to
their own apartments where they could do the same. Before departing, we
renewed our agreement to go back to using our own slaves that night, but
meet again the following night for some serious sharing again. This next
joint meeting, we would draw straws as to which slave got each of us for
the night as a little change in routine.  We also planned to discuss the
possibility of renting the slaves out for some added income since the
slaves were both eating more than we had thought they would; were using up
lube and body shaving soap like crazy, and we still had to earn that $50
they had cost in equipment and original food supplies.  All of us agreed
the slaves had to be self-supporting at the very least and profit-earning
hopefully.

     That night, I again enjoyed using my handsome Latino who was still
sore and sensitive, but fully able to satisfy me with both his now
stretched hole and his suctioning mouth. Again, I found having a totally
compliant body at my disposal heightened my sex drive and most of the night
was spent pumping into the boy with little rest.  My morning I was again
exhausted and I suppose the Latino boy was also although he tried to mask
it as he cleaned up the apartment and fixed my meals for me.  Nevertheless,
he grabbed some needed naps while I was doing the same.

     The next night, I had him give himself a complete enema, body shave
himself squeaky clean, lube himself heavily, and coat himself with some
light oil that made his brown skin simply gleam in the soft lighting of my
apartment.  As he displayed himself for my inspection, he was already hard
and dripping as I stroked him lightly, making sure he was ready for the
nights adventures.  Squeezing his balls I was pleased they felt full and
ready for action, not too surprising since I had not let him unload for the
past 24 hours despite a lot of stimulation to his body during that
time. They say ordering a slave boy from ejaculating except on rare and
special occasions (as a privilege granted by his master) is the best policy
in that it keeps them ready and interested in sex at all times as well as
showing well throughout the day. When they do get to shoot off with their
owner's permission, you can simply see the sincere gratitude in their eyes
as they buck and moan with each huge load delivered on command, relief
evident in every muscle of their body.  Tonight he would get a lot of use
but I doubted any one of the owners using him would allow him to unload.
It just wasn't good policy if we planned to rent them out in the next few
days where they would need to display well with good hard pricks dripping
and ready to go to attract customers willing to pay for their use.

     That night went exactly as planned. All our slaves knew they were
expected to display themselves well at all times which meant thrusting
their organs out fully hard with their hands in back of their necks and
their muscles tensed for the best display. Jacob suggested that, before we
drew straws, we have the slaves beg to use them - a suggestion we all
liked.  This resulted in the slaves either thrusting their hips back and
forth uttering their pleas to use them as their huge pricks dripped pre-cum
copiously or, as a later refinement, on their knees with their hands on our
chests, their mouths on our organs, and their legs spread wide pleading to
use them that night.  It was a real turn-on for all of us and even the
slaves seemed to become even more aroused in following our commands.

     Jacob's slave was the best at this.  He had a lot to be proud of and
didn't mind showing it off when given a chance.  The more we were around
Jacob's slave the more we realized he enjoyed being a slave and all that
entailed in being an owned object of pleasure.  In fact, he reveled in it -
he loved being wanted and appreciated and responded very well to our praise
of his talents. Like the other slaves, he enjoyed being raffled off by a
short straw to a new master for the night. I was lucky enough to draw
Jacob's hunky boy for my use that night.

     Jeff ended up with Bret's American slaveboy who proved to be expert at
sucking in addition to taking a good fuck.  Since I was right next to the
couple that night, it was fun hearing the American slave squeal and groan
as Jeff rammed his huge shaft in and out of his ass repeatedly and gasping
and choking as Jeff stuffed his mouth and throat. But Jeff told me later
that the boy always remembered to tighten his ass muscles around his prick
at just the right time and always swallowed his entire prick completely
down his throat, proving he was very well trained as a bed buck. Jeff
fucked Bet's American slave so many times that night the boy could hardly
stand up straight the next morning, but now he certainly knew what being a
slave was all about and realized his destiny now was to service those who
could afford to own him.

     Bret got George's black much to his delight as he found him a real
turn-on.  After fucking him soundly, he spilt a full load all over the
black's body before having the slave suck him.  Despite fucking him all
night, the black slave never uttered a sound other than a few sighs, a few
gasps of both pleasure and pain when he was really drilled, and a few pleas
to be allowed to shoot off (denied of course in view of his pending rental)
mixed with some very appropriate "Thank you, master"'s when he was allowed
to rest occasionally.

      Jacob got to seriously use my Latino boy which definitely turned him
on, and George got to use Jeff's harnessed Italian now all charged up and
ready to go.  Jeff ended up getting Bret's American boy who proved to be a
real treat once he was properly warmed up, especially now that he hadn't
been allowed to gain any relief in 24 hours.  That night was a real treat
for all of us.

     When my friend George stripped down to use his draw of Jeff's Italian
slave that night, every slave present in the apartment took note.  George's
body was a real turn-on to every slave there (as well as us I might add)
and he had a commanding stance that told every slave assigned to him they
were going to be well fucked before the night was over.  George was used to
fucking slaves from his part-time work at the training center where he
repeatedly fucked slaves to properly "open them up" prior to sale. He had
the equipment to give a slave a fucking they wouldn't forget and which
stretched their hole to its maximum.  When he was through fucking the
Italian slave that night, the Italian boy would never be the same again.
From now on, he knew he was a slave whose destiny was to serve his masters
without question and without pause.  George just had that effect on
slaves. No wonder that training center he worked at paid him well.

     I found it arousing to have so much fucking going on all around me.
Just hearing the moans of the slaves as they shifted their bodies around to
best accommodate their user's bucking up their open holes; hearing their
little gags and chokings as one of my friends rammed their pricks down
their throat; hearing the slaves struggle to swallow yet another load of
thick cream down into their stomachs; and even watching the slave's bodies
break out in a deep sweat as they were ordered to lower their ass holes
down onto our erect pricks and pump our dicks vigorously.  The smell was
overwhelming: a mixture of sweat, warm lube, hot semen, and the bodies
natural odors when it is excited and fully aroused.  Mix with that the
heavy breathing all around you, the gasps from the body being pounded
beneath you, and the overwhelming sense of power of having such beautiful
bodies completely at your disposal and under your command lifted not just
me, but all of us I think, into a new realm of sexual enjoyment.  For the
slaves - well it was a real lesson in what their lives would be like from
now on.  They knew it as well as we did and accordingly, they were
struggling to gain what enjoyment they could from the commanded acts they
were performing.  By the end of that memorable night, I knew the slaves had
done just that.  To a body, they subtly begged us to be allowed to unload
and when we eventually gave our permission, they thanked us profusely over
and over for allowing them this relief.  The gratitude in their eyes told
us they were now true slaves to their own sexuality and saw us, their
masters, as the only way to gain sexual satisfaction.  It was exactly where
slaves should be in their thinking, I mused.  After all, I was the one that
owned their body - it was only right I should decide when and if they ever
found satisfaction outside of satisfying my own needs whenever I liked.

     Tomorrow morning, we would decide about renting them out: how often,
which ones on which days, how to best market them, how much to charge, and
what, if any, restrictions we would place on their use.  After all, we
couldn't just rent them out to just anyone with the available cash - there
were some really weird people out there who could damage our investments if
we weren't careful!  I envisoned displaying them on a small podium outside
our doorsteps where they would attempt to entice customers any way they
found worked.  Selling them to four or five customers a day wouldn't hurt
them for our own use, I figured, and they would easily earn a good $40 or
$50 a day that way if the poor, but hard up, men and women in our
neighborhood could come up with that much.

     One thing I was certain of.  What the slaves thought about being
rented out wouldn't be given a thought by any one of the five of us.
Slaves weren't involved in what happened to them; they did what their
masters wanted regardless of what it was or how they `felt' about it.
After all, we had never asked them about what they thought about being
owned as mere property what they thought about us using them as their
owner, what they thought about letting our friends use them all night long,
or what they thought about being raffled off to the short straw for a long
night of taking it up the butt or down their throats.  Frankly, I don't
think our slaves thought about it anymore than we did.  They just accepted
being slaves like we accepted being their owners.  That's just the way it
was and these five slaves, at least, had never known it any other way.