Date: Mon, 14 Nov 2005 15:07:21 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: SURPLUS SALE (Part 3) - Authoritarian

SURPLUS SALE III: Collapse of the Surplus Sales Scheme

by Bill Smith

     Things hadn't quite turned out like the five friends had thought just
a number of months ago when they jubilantly each bought an appealing, well
trained young slave for a mere $20,000 on time payments.  In fact, their
experience seemed to validate that old saying "The poor will always be
poor" which implied they had neither the skill, training, or brains to be
anything but poor.  Whereas they had originally celebrated their upward
mobility into the slaveholding class and, as such, an end to their chronic
sexual frustration, they now found themselves with maxxed-out credit cards,
semi-starved slaves fast losing their bodily appeal, liens on their
furniture, and landlords screaming for back payment of their rent.  The
final blow came with the arrival of the sheriff at Jacob's house with a
warrant in hand for his arrest and seizure of all his possessions, which
didn't include much of anything outside of the handsome slave he had
possessed for only six months now.

     The first reality was that their plan to rent out the slaves to help
pay off the installment debt on them was pure fantasy.  Few of their
neighbors, it seemed, had the means to pay for sex and the few that did
preferred to go to a brothel where they had a wide choice of slaves at
their disposal for a fee even cheaper than they were charging for the use
of their slaves and the relatively plush and at least semi-private
surroundings much more inducive for good sex than right out in front of
everyone in the streets or in the shabby apartments of the slaves' owners.
In response, the five first lowered the rental price for their slave boys
to three dollars, but even that didn't increase the business much.  Next,
they had the slaves go door to door offering themselves for sale, but that
ended up with the slaves simply being grabbed, thoroughly and desperately
used, and then thrust out the door without payment.  Some of the slaves
were even battered and bruised up in the process so that subsequent sale
was impossible for a few days after such an experience.  Some of their
neighbors demanded the slaves be shared with them free or they would simply
take them for themselves.  One gang of local teen-agers were making serious
threats about kidnaping all five slaves and selling them off to a
black-market dealer they did business with - mainly, up to now, selling off
boys in rival gangs that had strayed into their territory.  Such
clandestine deals not only brought in some much needed cash for fancy
clothes, booze, and drugs, but generally got the captured goods completely
out of the state so their whereabouts couldn't be traced and any possible
return to freedom was practically impossible. In fact, my own Latino had
been briefly captured by one such teenage gang who fucked him raw before I
was able to hire a couple of thugs with machine guns to raid their
headquarters and seize him back for me, quite a bit the worst for wear.
After that episode, the gang swore they would get revenge and I knew that
meant taking both my Latino slave and probably myself the next time they
got a chance.

     The second reality was even more grim.  Feeding the slaves even the
cheapest slave chow was expensive.  It took two feedings a day, a pound
each time, to keep their strength and energy up.  Any less, we found, and
they started losing weight which hurt their physique and looks and, even
worse, seemed to drastically lower their spunkiness in satisfying us
sexually. When, as an economic expedient, we tried cutting them down to a
single one-pound meal a day, all they seemed to be interested in was
sucking us off until we realized they were after our cum as a food source.
Over time with reduced and skipped meals, the diet took a toll on the
slaves - they began to look haggard, sallow, and lethargic and we saw their
resale value crumbling right before us.

     At that point, if we had any brains, we could have fattened them up,
sold them to a second hand dealer for whatever we could get while they
would still be worth quite a bit of money, and cut our losses.  But our
pride and vanity in being slave holders got in the way, I'm afraid. We
simply refused, to a man, to face reality - we couldn't afford the luxury
of owning slaves ourselves unless our income was close to doubled.

     Well,the income from our pathetic jobs didn't double - they stayed
just the same and our debts mounted not through additional expenditures but
through not paying the obligations we already had on hand.  First, we
stalled on the rent for our apartments; next we mortgaged our furniture,
TV, etc., through a local pawn shop; finally, we didn't make the monthly
payment to the slave dealer we had bought the slaves from originally.  The
first two tactics led to a lot of inconvenience and embarrassment - our
landlord hounded us constantly and the apartments got more and more bare
until all that was left, usually, was a bed, a stove, and a
refrigerator. The third tactic, though, failure to make our monthly payment
on the slaves, led to quick action almost immediately after the second
missed payment.  Within days, the sheriff arrived at Jacob's doorstep with
an arrest warrant in hand.  By the end of that week, the other four of us
found ourselves locked up in the court jail where Bret had worked up to the
time of his arrest.  Our slaves were now a floor beneath us in tiny little
cages where repossessed goods were kept until return to their original
owner (the dealer) or resale at the next scheduled sheriff's sale. At
least, the sheriff had lectured us as he locked us up, our slaves would be
fed properly now either by the dealer we had bought them from or by him -
they'd bring double the price if their ribs didn't show and they got the
flesh back on their buns.

     Technically, the slaves reverted back to the dealer we had bought them
from after 60 days of non-payment according to the mortgage papers we had
signed when we bought the slaves on the installment plan.  The first
morning after all five of us had been incarcerated, we were hauled rather
unceremoniously into a busy court room before a judge who was overburdened
with cases like this - in his eyes, poor people getting big airs pretending
they weren't poor and bothering their betters making a mess of their lives.

     The dealer's cadre of three lawyers promptly presented their case of
non-payment, reviewed the contract we had signed, and asked the court to
assign the slaves back to them for resale to "some decent party who can
assume proper responsibility for their actions and not burden the courts
with their stupidity."  They suggested the slaves would certainly be better
off ("They are half-starved, your honor, and clearly desperate which poses
a threat to civil order") and society would be better off if "social
leaches like these five would be placed in a position to repay society for
all the trouble they caused and serve as an object lesson to others of
their class who might be lured into overstepping their means."

     "The only way they could repay society would be through service," the
judge responded.

     "Exactly, your honor.  We petition the court to enslave all five of
these misfits.  After a proper training at the state training facilities,
they could be sold to repay the courts costs and contribute the remainder
to the general fund which, as you know, your honor, helps keep our taxes in
proper balance."

     "I don't need some young whipper-snappers like you three legal eagles
lecturing me on what to do with the proceeds of our slave sales," the judge
growled.

     Turning to us, now with our hands shackled behind us, he asked, "Is it
true you failed to make two payments in a row as your contract for the
slave goods specified?"

     "Yes," we all replied, "but...."

     "No but's about it," he cut us off swiftly.  "You either didn't pay or
you did.  Which is it?"

     "Well, we didn't pay this time, but....." Bret, who knew the judge
from his work there began to explain.

     "Shut up, Bret," the judge barked.  "Your answer is yes. Let it be
recorded that all five defendants admitted they did not meet the terms of
the contract they signed.  And you, Bret, have brought enough disgrace and
embarrassment to this court without making it worse with your stupid mouth.
I'm ashamed to admit you once worked here."

     "Your honor," George piped up.  "I'm a student at Miles Law School
specializing in slave affairs and..."

     "Shut up," the judge said, "or I'll have the bailiff gag you. There's
nothing worse than a mouthy student from a minor league law school who
thinks he knows it all.  I knew more about slave law before you were even
born than you'll ever know, you impertinent bastard. "

     Turning to the slave dealer's team of attorneys, he asked, "Your
recommendation is enslavement for all five standing here before us and
return of the mortgaged goods to your firm for resale?"

     "Yes, your honor," they said in one voice.

     "Judgement rendered.  All five before me to be stripped naked
immediately before us as is appropriate for a court decreed slave, fitted
with a temporary slave collar, and removed by the bailiff to the nearest
state slave training facility for non-payment of a legally contracted
negotiation. Upon completion of their rehabilitation to proper slave
status, they are to be sold at public auction, the proceeds specified for
repayment of all appropriate court costs with the remainder to go into the
public fund.  Their slavery is irrevocable and lifelong as befits their
crime.  Furthermore, it is my recommendation to the warden of the state
slave training facility that this court's former employee, Bret Smith, and
the alleged law student, George Fitzgerald, be considered for permanent
silencing through severance of their vocal chords if they ever again have
the audacity to challenge their betters as we all witnessed in their court
hearing."

     There was a chuckle throughout the court room at this little addendum
to the sentencing as we five stood in stunned silence.  The team of three
lawyers for the slave house patted each other on the back for their good
work and quickly walked up to the judge to congratulate him on once again
demonstrating his well-known sagacity in protecting civil society. No one
left, though.  They all were waiting for the bailiffs to take over as they
were now entering from the rear doors.

     "Hands in back of your head and stand straight to be stripped,
slaves," the biggest one ordered all five of us. He was dressed exactly
like Bret dressed when he was employed there up until today: tight black
leather pants, a similar form fitting jacket and black leather boots and
cap.  An adjacent slave handler cracked his whip over our heads as a signal
for us to respond now and, when we didn't in our confusion, the whip bore
into our backs so fast we didn't even realize where the horrible pain was
coming from as the blow knocked us to the floor.

     "Stand up for stripping and get those hands in back of your heads,
slaves," the bailiff said as again the handler's whips slashed across our
backs.  We struggled to our feet, not easy because of our hands shackled in
back, and trembled as our pants and shirts were quickly cut off of us by
the bailiff with a huge pair of scissors.  In less than a minute, all five
of us were stark naked right in front of everyone with our shackled hands
in back of our heads so we were totally exposed.  Our exposed backs showed
the red weals where the whip had bit into our backs.  There were no shoes,
socks, or underwear to remove, typical of the poor.  We were then ordered
to spread our legs wide and "display your bodies properly" so "all in the
court can see you as the slave you are.  Turn slowly with your pelvis
thrust out so all can see you displayed as a slave should be."

     Although we weren't body shaved yet as most slaves were, we weren't
collared or ringed anywhere, and we weren't branded or had any other
ownership marks on us, the experience was overwhelming as all eyes stared
at the newly enslaved bodies before them.  Everyone, men, women, and even
children, took all of our bodies in as we slowly rotated before them,
thoroughly enjoying our abject humiliation and total embarrassment at being
displayed like this.  At that moment, not one of us thought that we had
routinely had our own slaves display themselves like this almost constantly
nor did we ever think that they might have been embarrassed or humiliated
by being displayed nude at all times.  After all they were slaves.

     Jeff got a huge erection at being displayed to no one's surprise.  All
his life he gloried in displaying his beautiful well-built body and his
huge, perfectly formed equipment and envied slaves getting to show their
bodies off routinely.  He had even hinted around he wouldn't mind being a
slave to be displayed if he could find the right owner.  A smile on his
face told us he was happy now that his secret wish was coming true.  He
began dripping as one of the lawyers, about his age and good looking
himself, stared at his totally exposed body with lust in his eyes.  A
murmur went up in the audience as it was obvious a natural born slave was
among those sentenced that day and the body being displayed so wantonly
before them would, no doubt, be bringing great enjoyment to some lucky
owner in the near future.

     George, used to slaves being displayed from his experiences in the
slave training facility he worked at part time, seemed to accept his fate
that the tables were now turned and soon someone like himself would be
assigned to "train" him sexually for his new life. From now on, he
realized, he was going to be the one getting fucked regularly, not the
other way around.  He just hoped he could still talk, at least
occasionally, given the judge's recommendation to the slave training
center's warden.  George had worked many a time with a 'silenced' slave who
could only grunt as their only verbal responses once their vocal cords had
been severed.  He knew the alteration only added to a slave's sales price
so any excuse was used to have it done. A feeling of irony swept over him
as he stood their naked with the crowd enjoying the beauty of his well
built and well hung body with his shiny black hide gleaming in the
courtroom lights.  He planned to escape poverty through being a silver-
tongued lawyer well-schooled in slave ownership rights, black market slave
disposition, and estate sales of large slave holdings.  Now he was below
poverty.  He was a slave himself up for sale once properly trained.  He
would be trained, probably by a big-dicked part-time trainer just like he
had been, rather than be a trainer.  His verbal skills might be silenced
forever instead of ringing forth in a courtroom just like this one.  Most
likely, se would probably be trained and sold as a pleasure slave since
handsome, young, well-built blacks brought top prices in that market.  That
meant he was going to be fucked over and over and over in his training just
as he had done to those assigned to him at the training facility he had
worked at, and, once sold, would probably be fucked even more than that.

     Jacob wasn't ever too bright.  He had worked with slaves all his life
and knew exactly what they thought about, their hopes and aspirations, and
exactly how they adjusted to the realities of their world.  He knew now he
wouldn't have to worry about keeping his job competing with slave labor; he
knew he had a sellable skill, brick laying, where slaves were usually
purchased to do the work, and he knew his well built, muscular body would
assure him lots of sex with the other slaves if not with his supervisors
and owners.  Overall, he wasn't too worried.  The strain of financial
problems was behind him now and he could get on with his life.  It had been
stupid to try to aspire to be a slaveholder himself.  Being made a slave
was a deserving punishment for anyone that dumb, he thought. The look of
relief on his face was quite noticeable to the crowd who made a note to buy
him if they ever got the chance.  No problems with that slave, probably. He
looked like he would be happy once he was sold and settled.

     Bret, who worked at this very court until now, knew exactly what was
ahead of him, having witnessed it at his work for years now.  It didn't
frighten him and in some ways didn't look that bad.  He knew slaves got
lots of action, got their balls drained on a regular base usually, and the
training was nothing he couldn't handle with his big body and muscular
frame.  He thought about who might buy him when his training was over and
how much he would bring on the block.  Quite a bit, he reasoned, if his
training went well and, most likely, he would appeal to a wide range of
people which would run his price up.  The higher the price, he knew, the
better treatment and care he would get.  His own experience as a slave
holder had taught him that - they had bought cheap and the slaves got cheap
buyers.  They ended up haggard and malnourished.  He would do everything
possible to get sold to a rich matron or a wealthy old man who would feed
him well, appreciate his body enough to where he could unload now and then,
and protect their investment from predators.  Unknowingly, he had thrust
his pelvis out even more as the thoughts raced through his head and he was
now sporting a huge dripping erection.  Almost everyone in the courtroom,
even the old judge, appreciated his apparent quick adjustment to
enslavement.  It turned out Bret had exactly the attributes that the old
judge liked in a slave's body - wide muscular shoulders, a practically
hairless body, long blond hair almost to his shoulders, well-sculpted very
muscular pecs with big brown tits that practically needed a bra to show
them off properly, big balls handing close to his body, a long very thick
prick already neatly circumcised, and a muscular well-rounded bubble butt
that look like it begged to be fucked. He was the embodiment of a Viking
warrior, one of the old judge's fantasies.  The judge made a note to call
the slave training center warden, a long-time friend, and ask him for a
little favor.  There was no reason this slave had to be placed with the
others when it came time to sell him - the judge would pay a fair market
price long before that, especially if the warden made the slave available
to him during the training period every other night or so.  Besides, the
judge felt like he knew the new slave better than the others - after all,
he had worked for the court for years and it seemed only appropriate he end
up back with the judge in a considerably different capacity, one very
appropriate for a slave but hardly for a court bailiff.  It's just the
judge never saw him with his clothes off - the slave was the type you just
couldn't appreciate with clothes covering him up.  With that, Bret's fate
was decided and when Bret saw the look in the judge's eye, he knew it.  The
question now was whether he was to serve the judge silently with clipped
vocal chords or retain the ability to tell the judge how much he
appreciated his ownership of him.  To promote this latter possibility, he
gave the judge a long, lingering look of pleading lust and total
compliance, a move not unnoticed by the aging magistrate whose organ was
growing hard as he envisioned how he would be using this appealing slave
once he was delivered to his quarters by his friend, the warden.

     Me?  My handsome Latino slave would now be someone else's to toy with
and enjoy.  But I had similar good looks that may attract a decent buyer.
I was a Cretan genetically with the smooth olive skin and well defined
musculature that usually means.  I was sloe eyed with long thick eyelashes
and heavy black eye brows which highlighted by handsome face.  Furthermore,
I was a good diesel mechanic who could earn my new owner some real money if
he leased me out to a good facility that specialized in diesel engines.  My
best bet in the slave market, I decided, was to sell myself as a steady
income-producer who could also bring an owner unparalleled satisfaction in
his or her own bed.  I knew handsome Mediterranean slave- boys were all the
rage with sophisticated women and very wealthy men nowadays who could
afford the luxury of their own little harems.  A harem boy who could be
sent out every day to earn big money for their mistress before returning
each afternoon to warm her bed and bring her squeals of joy would be
appreciated and ensure longevity, good health, and staying off the auction
block too often. Besides, I speculated, even a demanding mistress' studs
got to shoot off eventually - they didn't expect you to hold it in all the
time, just so they didn't risk pregnancy.  Often slaveboys purchased for a
woman's harem were vasectomized so that any pregnancy complications of a
good fucking was eliminated.  He knew many stud slaves doing the pumping
got to eventually discharge as long as their ardor wasn't dampened by a
premature ejaculation and their mistress had been completely satisfied
beforehand.  While thinking this out, he realized he was showing hard, even
dripping, and noted three women, all rich judging by their dress, obviously
evaluating his manhood and licking their lips in appreciation.  Yes, that's
exactly the market he intended to focus on when he was put up for sale
despite all the training he knew he would receive in being fucked himself
and satisfying a male owner at the training center he was headed for.  But,
according to the Latino I had owned who had certainly gone through all the
training himself, that training also included plenty of instruction and
practice in totally satisfying women owners as well.  Every slave nowadays
was expected to be able to please any owner, regardless of their gender or
sexual preferences.

     For the five of us a whole new life had already begun, it seemed, as
we stood there slowly rotating our naked bodies before the crowd.
Eventually, of course, we were whisked below to the holding pens where we
were properly collared, had a huge dildo forced up our ass as an
introduction to slavery, and, within an hour or so, herded into a slave
transport truck and delivered to the slave training center the judge had
referred to.

     For the five slaves repossessed in the individual cages below us, a
similar truck picked them up and whisked them back to the same place they
had been just six months ago when first being peddled off in the so-called
"surplus sale."  There they were given a nourishing meal, injected with
vitamin shots, checked for diseases, pumped full of antibiotics for the few
infections they had picked up in their declining physical condition, and
given a roomy cage to sleep in with fresh straw.  No one fucked them nor
would they for a while.  They were going to be allowed to rest up for the
next 30 days, get their health back, put on the weight they had lost, and
get their bodies back in top shape through some well planned exercise
routines.  They were already trained; all effort now was on getting them
back into a marketable commodity where the dealer could recoup those lost
payments on their bodies.

     All five of them recognized many of the others in adjoining cages that
had been sold at the 'surplus sale' with them so long ago. It seemed the
whole idea of selling them off at hugely discounted prices had been a real
loser.  Selling deflated goods to the lower classes who could only afford
them on an installment plan simply didn't work.  The new owners, devoid of
any resources other than the earnings of lousy jobs, could neither feed
them over the long haul or meet the payments of owning them.  All they
could do was fuck them until their holes were raw, their bodies were
exhausted, and their good looks were fading fast.

     Now those slaves were flooding back into their old dealer needing a
lot of rehabilitation before they could be resold for a decent profit and
the courts were jammed with cases of default on contractual debt.  Most of
the poor so involved were now being enslaved themselves, a good object
lesson for others of their class who might be thinking of overreaching
their assets.

     From now on, slaves were only to be sold at full market value to those
able to buy them on the spot for cash, a certified check, or charged to a
valid debit card.  No more discounting!  No more installment buying of
slaves!  No more mortgages on slave property!  It was hard to ascertain who
was at fault the more: the dealers and banks coming up with the stupid
scheme to get rid of their surplus stock, or the even stupider poor who
always tended to bite off more than they could chew.  The courts warned the
dealers never to repeat their mistake or the courts would solve the slave
surplus problem by new warrants limiting the slave breeding operations to
no more production than could be profitably sold at market value.

     But they also warned that the whole problem of the poor in society
might be best addressed by liberalizing the laws concerning enslavement.
As it was now, you had to have a crime committed to enslave a person, e.g.,
violating a contractual debt agreement.  But maybe the lawmakers could
consider changing the laws a bit to where lack of capitol funds, no income
producing job, or just impoverishment itself, penury, was a crime. Then you
could enslave so many people dragging down civil society that breeding
slaves would be unnecessary, at least until the problem resolved itself.
Of course, slave training facilities would need to be expanded considerably
and current slave breeding enterprises would howl, but in the long run, it
would solve a lot of problems without disrupting the need for ever growing
numbers of slaves to keep the society running smoothly and competitive with
the rest of the world, something everyone recognized as essential.

**********************************************

[Feedback is always appreciated.  Please forward your comments to
anonymous4371@juno.com.  Thanks. Bill Smith]