Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2011 17:57:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: "The Aftermath" Chapter 18  Gay Male/Authoritarian

THE AFTERMATH
(Or What Follows Next)
Chapter 18: The Auction-yard


This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years.

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris)
"To see all my stories go to groups.yahoo.com/group/SlaveNow"

Chapter 18: The Auction-yard

Part 1:

Inevitably, there is a lull in proceedings on sale-days; a break between
the chaotic activities of the morning when the displayed livestock is
examined and appraised by the prospective buyers and the frenetic
exuberance of the afternoon as the slaves are fought for and bought.

Beginning at about 11.00 AM, the crowds begin to thin out as the buyers
adjourn to one of the nearby hostelries for a quick lunch and a beer before
taking their seat in the selling enclosure. Also, at this time, most of the
spectators leave; although there are a few who linger to watch as the
slaves are removed from the display platform and driven into the
sale-yard. And the teenage boys and youths who had provided so much colour
and noise to the morning's activities have moved on and are now clustering
around the fast-food stalls boisterously talking about their interaction
with the slaves that had so delighted the watching crowds.

The hapless slaves, for their part, enjoy this brief respite. Their
overseers allow their trembling bodies and fraught nerves to settle down
before moving them to the sale-yard. They are now suspended in a limbo
relief and fearful uncertainty; relief that the ordeal of the display
stands is behind them and the fear of what awaits them on the other side of
the grim, high walls of the adjacent sales area.

Some of the slaves are old hands- they have been sold before and they know
what to expect and what is expected of them. As they mount the auction
block, they know they are to put on a show for the buyers. Unassisted, such
a slave will primp and pose his naked body in the hope of attracting a good
master - he will inflate and expand his chest, suck in and tighten his
belly, raise his arms above his head and place the maximum strain on his
body to better display its musculature. And he knows he has to demonstrate
the power and strength of his erection. He is aware that this always
impresses the buyers and he'll will himself to put on a good showing. These
old hands aim to please.

For a new slave however, the situation is very different. Understandably
nervous and unsure of what to do, he'll be led to the auction block and
assisted, if necessary, to mount it by the canes of the ever-present
overseers. Then, he'll be ordered to pose for the buyers and should he fail
to give satisfaction, he'll once more receive instruction from the cane.

Once mounted on the block, the slave waits as he is sold. His time on the
block is short; his moment of solitary fame brief. He is at the centre of
proceedings; he is the reason why people have gathered here. All eyes are
on him, watching as the auctioneer draws attention to his many fine
features. The buyers are oblivious to his sense of degradation and ignorant
of his inner turmoil and if they note his humiliation at all then it is
quickly dismissed from their minds; slaves aren't entitled to these very
human qualities. Their interest is focused on his body; assessing its
capacity for hard work, the pleasure it can give them in their beds or for
the amount of profit to be made from it. That is their only interest in him
and what is hidden behind his physical facade isn't important to them. They
have come to buy a beast-of burden - a slave - and not another human being.

There, he'll stand as the auctioneer exhorts the buyers to bid for him, and
perhaps, if he's not too detached from reality, he'll hear the auctioneer's
staccato voice acknowledging the loud, frenzied bidding flowing down from
the buyers' gallery. Then, he'll hear the fateful world - "SOLD!"

He has a new master.

Finally, he'll step down from the block and be led away and locked in a
holding cage where he now awaits his new master's pleasure.

At last his ordeal is over. Or is it?

.  >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Part 2: Toby

There are fifty of us - well fifty-one really, I forget that Lot 26 is a
matched pair - waiting to be sold.

We have just been removed from the display platform and driven in through
the gates of the sales yard into an area immediately behind and below the
selling stage. The overseers don't waste time organising us as the sale is
due to start twenty minutes from now. They work quickly and efficiently
placing us, in numerical lot order, one behind the other in a long, narrow
enclosure which is just wide enough for one slave. This enclosure is almost
identical to the cattle race we use at my master's farm - obviously
modified for use with slaves - and the irony of this doesn't escape me; we
are, after all, livestock and therefore no different from my master's
cattle.

This race is enclosed on both sides and overhead by strong, iron bars to
prevent us from escaping and it has bolted gates opening at both ends. The
length of this enclosure is barely long enough to hold all of us and we are
driven in at one end in single file. We are urged along by the overseers
who use the ends of their canes as prods to keep us moving. We have only
one way to go and that is forward and a sharp poke in the ass with the end
of a cane ensures we do so. Soon all fifty-one of us are in the race and
the gate is closed and bolted behind us.  Now there is only one exit and
that is out through the gate at the head of the race. And, of course, this
gate opens onto the steps leading up to the selling platform.

We are jammed into the race so that our bodies touch. We're not to know
that this is done deliberately for two reasons. Firstly, packed as tightly
as we are, it is difficult for us to protest or to rebel - it makes it
easier for the overseers to control us. We're soon to learn that as a slave
is removed from the head of our line to take his place on the auction
block, the rest of us are forced to shuffle forward to fill that gap; we
are to maintain the tightness of our line at all times.  Now we stand like
so many frightened cattle waiting for our turn to be led out and placed on
the auction block.

The second reason is perhaps less obvious. Because of our physical
closeness to one another, we are in a heightened state of arousal. All
morning our bodies had been examined by the eager buyers; we had been
grabbed, rubbed, stroked, poked, teased and had even had our holes
digitally explored. All this has left us aroused but frustrated - our cocks
ache for release. But we are denied any release and we are forbidden to
cum.

Now, I stand between the bodies of the slave immediately in front of me and
the one behind me. I enjoy the feeling of their hard, naked bodies pressed
up against my own firm flesh. I feel the cool dampness of our sweat where
our bodies touch and the warm breath of the slave behind me - one of the
two blond slaves; which one I can't see - on my shoulder. His thick, blond,
chest hair tickles the sensitive skin on my back and I feel him pushing
himself into the crack between the cheeks of my ass .His warm, hard dick
feels so good and I tighten my buttocks to grip it and to hold it fast to
me.

This close proximity to the other naked slaves does nothing to calm me. I
feel my own cock throbbing with its unfulfilled need and I move my body
closer to the slave in front of me - he responds my pushing his ass back to
meet me; the rounded contours of his buttocks fit nicely into my
groin. Reaching out, I gently stroke his quivering flanks as my prick seeks
out the warm recesses of his ass; he moves his legs apart - just a little -
to give me access. My dick now nestles between his muscular
thighs. Suddenly, I'm aware that my hips are thrusting in time with those
of the slave behind me.

The silence is broken by the rattling of our chains, our heavy breathing
and our low moans of pleasure. We don't hear the overseers' conversations
as they discuss us. We don't hear as an eighteen years old, novice overseer
complains.

"Look at the filthy animals trying to fuck each other. They're disgusting."

We don't hear the wise counsel given to him by the more experienced head
overseer.

"Lad. You're new to the job so you don't understand what`s
happening. They're doing what their supposed to do. When a slave stands on
the block he has to show hard for the customers. That's what the buyers
expect and it`s what they demand. If a slave's dick wilts when he's on the
block then it up to us overseers to get him back up and running
again. Sometimes that's hard work. Allowing them to excite each other in
the race can save us a lot of work."

"I hadn't thought of it quite like that." the novice replies. "I suppose it
does make sense to let them do it themselves. But what happens if a slave
droops in front of the buyers?"

"Well first up, the slave is made to stroke himself to an erection and if
he can't, then it's up to one us to get him hard. That`s where the hard
work can come in. Often, they`re too nervous to respond immediately and so
we have to persist until they do. Usually a couple of cuts of the cane will
get their attention and make them co-operate. So if you ever find yourself
in the situation of having to get a slave's dick up, don't hesitate to use
your cane on him.  In fact, don`t ever be afraid to use your cane on a
slave at any time - that`s why you have it."

"Thanks for the advice. I guess I've got a lot to learn about handling
slaves."

"Don't worry about it young fella. You'll soon get the hang of it. There's
nothing difficult about handling slaves. Just remember you're ALWAYS in
charge and YOU make them do as you tell them.  Slaves don't need to think
and they don't really want to - you have to do it for them. And don't ever
spare the whip or cane. If a slave does something you disapprove of just
give him a couple of sharp cuts of the cane to let him know that he's in
the wrong. Really, a slave expects to be punished if he misbehaves or
offends. Anyway, remember that the whip and cane are an overseer's best
friend and their use always makes for a better slave."

"Good! I'll remember that. It`s only a part-time job for me at the moment,
but I still want to make a success of it."

"That's the spirit, lad. But looking at this lot, it appears that some of
them are getting a bit too frisky.  It's time to quieten them down before
they start cumming over each other. They're not allowed to shoot. We need
them hard and dripping for the auction block."

Suddenly, our sexual activities are curtailed by the angry shouting of the
overseers to "stop that thrusting and stand still'; this command is
re-enforced by sharp prodding from the ends of their canes.

Responding to overseers' commands, we now stand quietly, each with his dick
resting against the backside of the slave in front of him. We our maintain
silence and wait.

Placed as we are behind the selling platform, I can't see into the buyers'
area; indeed my view is restricted to the line of slaves immediately in
front of me and to the overseers pacing up and down on the outside of the
race.

The only sounds to break the silence - apart from the rattling of our
shackles and our nervous breathing - is the low hum of indistinct
conversations coming from the unseen buyers' gallery. Whilst the words are
unintelligible, I sense the excitement contained in them.

I don't see the head overseer looking at his watch, but I do hear his
instruction to the other overseers.

Right boys, are you ready? It's only a couple of minutes to go before
starting time."

I watch as several overseers take up their positions by the front gate of
the race. Each carries a length of chain in his hand. I wonder at their
purpose - what use will they be put to. I'm soon to find out.

I'm not familiar with the layout of the sale-yard. As a slave I was never
permitted to enter-only free persons and slaves up for sale are allowed in
to this tightly, restricted area.

In the past, when I went with my master to help him buy a slave, I was
forced to wait for him in the display area while he was in the
sale-yard. Here, there are conveniently placed holding cages where a master
can securely stable his slave whilst he attends the auction.

After I had advised my master on what slave or slaves to buy; he would lock
me in one of these cages secure in the knowledge that I would still be
there on his return. Over time, I came to enjoy this time spent locked up
with other slaves. Very quickly, these occasions became social events for
me.  Here, I was able to engage with the other slaves in `slave gossip". We
boasted about our wonderful masters, how kindly they treated us, how much
they relied upon us -this was true in my case - and how fulfilling our
lives really were. We didn't mention the bad tempers of our owners, the
drudgery of our labours or the severity of our punishments, In our
eagerness to outdo one another it was as though these things didn't exist.

Paradoxically, whenever slaves, who are strangers to one another, gather
together, we tend towards this boastfulness. This could be seen as a denial
of the true reality of our lives, as a compensation for the bleakness of
our existence and our helplessness in the face of the powerful forces that
control us. But nevertheless, I always looked forward to my time spent in
the cage and for this reason, I was always keen to accompany my master to
the slave auctions.

I am apprehensive and I nervously await developments. I know from the
comments and actions of the overseers that the start of today's auction is
imminent. I have now abandoned all hope that my master will rescue me and
take me home with him.

As I contemplate my own sale, I worry about my future master; what type of
man will he be. I suppose from my three pre-sale inspections that I'll be a
popular lot when I mount the block. I know there are three buyers who are
certain to bid for me and I shudder at the thought of what my life will be
like should one of them be successful in buying me. The idea of being my
new owner's stud appals me. I can't think of a more demeaning fate. But
realistically, I know these things are beyond my control. I have no say
over my future. Suddenly, these thoughts are interrupted by the loud
ringing of a bell and a man's shouted request for.

"Can I have your attention, please, gentlemen?"

In the ensuing silence, I strain to hear this man's voice and I catch only
fragments of his speech. I hear words like "terms of settlement", "prime
young stock", "field hands' and "suitable as bed bucks". Taken out of
context it is all meaningless to me. Then, in a clear voice, I hear him
declare the sale open.

"If you're ready gentlemen then let's begin. His invitation to open the
sale is greeted with applause and loud cheering,

Now, my attention is drawn to the loud pleading of Lot I as he is removed
from the race and hauled to the auction block. His pleas are heartrending
but useless. The overseers ignore him as a chain is fastened to his collar
and he is lead away. His pleading is unsettling and the rest of us murmur
in sympathy as we listen to his sobbing entreaties.

"PLEASE! PLEASE! I'm not really a slave. I don't want to be sold. Please
don't do this to me I'm sorry, Please, don't sell me. I'm not a
slave. PLEASE DON"T!"

I crane my neck to watch as an overseer tries to yank him up the steps by
his collar chain. Vainly, he persists in his struggles until finally, the
head overseer intervenes. Eschewing his cane for a whip, he unclips a short
leather quirt from his belt and lashes the difficult slave's shoulders and
back.  Screaming with the sudden, unexpected pain, Lot 1 has only one
option open to him to avoid the cruel lash and that is to scramble up the
steps and onto the platform.

As he disappears from my sight a hear a loud cheer from the crowd which
gives way to jeers and taunting laughter as the eager buyers watch Lot I
step up onto the block.

The auction has begun. The remaining fifty of us now wait for our turn to
be lead out and sold.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Part 3: Andy

Today, I break with my normal habit of visiting one of the nearby
hostelries for lunch. In the past, when I visited the slave-market and my
inspections were over, I would stable my slave, Toby in one of the holding
cages and then go to lunch. These cages really are a boon for the
buyers. Once our slaves are locked in, we are free to wander off and to
attend to our business secure in the knowledge that our slaves are
safe. For his own safety, I always ensured that Toby was securely locked
away before I left the area.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Toby; quite the contrary. He is the most
trustworthy of slaves and I wouldn't have worried about him getting into
trouble. But nowadays, the city ordinances decree that all unattended
slaves must be locked in one of these holding pens for their own safety.

The introduction of this mandatory ruling is twofold. Before its
introduction, there had been a series of unfortunate incidents; brutal
fights and brawls between slaves left unattended by their owners. I don't
know the reasons for these fights and it's not really relevant. What is
true is that some owners, upon returning, would find their properties had
been severely damaged in these melees.

At first, the city's response had been to erect two whipping frames
adjacent to the display area and all slaves caught fighting - irrespective
of guilt or innocence - were strung up and given ten strokes of the
lash. This did have the desired effect and within a very short time all
brawls ceased.

However, a more sinister danger existed for the slaves - they were subject
to abduction by unscrupulous slavers, who prowled the market keeping an eye
out for any unwary or unattended slaves. An unsuspecting slave could easily
find himself picked up by these "slave-nappers" and spirited away to some
distant slave-market where he'd be sold with no questions asked. This was a
serious problem and many owners found themselves out of pocket because of
this nefarious practice of slave-stealing.

The city authorities had acted decisively. Laws were quickly enacted that
decreed anyone guilty of the insidious crime of slave-stealing was
automatically sentenced to lifetime enslavement without the right of
appeal.

And it also became an offence for a slave-owner to leave his property
unattended; it must be secured in the holding pens until his
return. Failure to obey this law results in the forfeiture of the
unattended slave and/or a heavy fine. Now, city officers constantly patrol
the environs of the market looking for any unattended slaves who, if found,
are swiftly impounded. Needless to say, all slave- owners comply with this
very sensible law.

Today, rather than waste time over a leisurely lunch at a hostelry, I grab
a quick bite at one at the fast-food outlets and then make my way to the
selling-yard. I'm anxious to get a ringside seat close to the action. I'm
amongst the first buyers to arrive and so, I have my choice of the best
seats.

I choose a seat directly in front of the podium, one that is sufficiently
elevated to give me a good view of the slaves as they stand on the block. I
opt to sit by myself as I don't want the distraction of conversation - but
not because I'm anti-social. Rather, I want to give my undivided attention
to the auction. I'm early and there is still approximately thirty minutes
before the first slave is offered for sale. I'm not alone; for there are
several other early-birds who, like me, want to have a good vantage
point. Some of these buyers are known to me and we acknowledge each other's
presence by a friendly wave or a shouted greeting.

Although I can't see them, I hear the slaves shuffling into the holding
area which is hidden out of the buyers' sight behind the raised selling
platform. I hear the rattling of their chains and the thwack of the
overseers' canes striking their naked flesh. I think of Toby and wonder -
what are his thoughts at this moment? Momentarily, I feel regret at my
decision to sell him. But then, I think of my new purchase and any regrets
on my part are forgotten..

Gradually, the buyers begin to move into the selling area. Many have
imbibed generously over lunch and they now garrulously take their places on
the benches. Soon the air is full of much chattering and loud laughter -
obviously the buyers are in an alcohol fuelled, good humour.

This augurs well for the afternoon's proceedings. It means that rather than
the sober occasion that an auction can so often be; this afternoon's will
be a lively affair. From past experience, I expect there will be much
verbal interaction between the buyers and the auctioneer and that the
slaves will be noisily acclaimed as they mount the block. This all makes
for a more relaxed and pleasurable occasion.

I see Obadiah Clements make his entrance and move with great difficulty to
the front bench. The front row of seats; those at ground level, are
reserved for the buyers who are frail, elderly or, as in Obadiah's case,
grossly overweight. It is plainly obvious that he'd be unable to negotiate
the steps to a higher tier.  As he takes his seat, he sees me and smilingly
gives me a friendly wave. I, of course, return his wave.

The heat of the day is intensifying as the sun climbs towards its zenith
and the afternoon promises to be a scorcher. Already, I am perspiring
freely, even in the friendly shade of the overhead awnings. As I looked out
at the sun-drenched selling platform, I felt a slight twinge of pity for
the slaves. Unlike the buyers' gallery and the auctioneer's podium - both
of which are shaded - the auction block stands in the harsh glare of the
sun. This is necessary of course, as the slaves' oiled bodies are shown to
their best advantage under full sunlight. I can only imagine at their
discomfort as they stand naked and exposed; still their time on block is
brief.

The buyers' gallery is now full to capacity and people are now noisily
settling down in their seats, rather than, as before, moving around
greeting one another. The general atmosphere is one of excited
expectancy. I look at my watch and see there are ten minutes to go.

There is loud cheering from the crowd as two men make their way onto the
platform and move to the auctioneer's podium. I recognise them as Dave
Matheson and his auctioneer. They acknowledge this welcome with a wave of
their arms but otherwise they ignore the crowd. Dave carries a sheaf of
papers which he hands to the auctioneer. They are lost in earnest
conversation as they shuffle through these papers. I'm aware from previous
sales that these are the individual reports on each slave which the
auctioneer will read out to the buyers as that slave is presented for sale.

I see Dave Matheson glance at his watch then turn to speak to the
auctioneer. If I could lip-read, I would see that Dave said.

"It's time."

The auctioneer catches the crowd's attention by the loud, prolonged ringing
of a bell and the request.

"Can I have your attention, please, gentlemen?"

The buyers fall silent and listen intently as the auctioneer spells out the
terms and conditions of the sale - that all lots are offered for genuine
sale and are to be sold by auction to the highest bidder, that all slaves
MUST be paid for at the close of the sale - if not before - and that
"transfer of ownership certificates" or "ownership papers for the newly
enslaved" WON"T be handed over until full payment is received. He warns the
buyers that any defaulting on payment after a slave has been "knocked down"
to a buyer in good faith is a serious breach of the law and will be
referred to the authorities for the appropriate action.

He asks the buyers if they understand all this or if they have any
questions about his warning - in doing so he is complying with the legal
responsibilities of the selling agent. The buyers signify that they
understand what their responsibilities are and he moves on to outline the
day's offering to us.

He goes on to tell us there are fifty lots on offer, comprising forty-nine
single lots and one lot of a matched pair - I'm pleased that he points out
that this matched pair is a rarity and represents a unique opportunity to
buy two such handsome, young slaves in the one "parcel." I'm gratified to
hear the murmurs of interest from my fellow buyers and hope that there will
be strong bidding for my two slaves.

We listen intently as he tells us that today's offering, with one
exception, consists of "prime young stock" and range over the whole
spectrum of slavery from field-hands, heavy duty labourers, body- servants,
handsome, young bed-bucks and even one or two suitable for stud duties. And
thrown in for good measure - and this is of interest to me - there are some
newly captured slaves from the northern wars who are just itching for a
master to break and train them to be good slaves.

This last comment draws a loud sustained cheer from the increasingly
boisterous buyers. He waits patiently for the noise to lessen, then
declares.

"If you're ready gentlemen, then let's begin."

His words prompt another round of applause and cheering.


To be continued ......