Date: Sun, 31 Jul 2011 16:51:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: "The Aftermath" Chapter 19  Gay Male/Authoritarian

THE AFTERMATH
(Or What Follows Next)
Chapter 19: SOLD!


This is 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 19: SOLD!

Part 1: Andy

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

With these words the sale is now officially underway. The auctioneer's
announcement is greeted with loud applause and cheering.

It seems to me that there is a particularly noisy element present at
today's sale. This is most probably due to the hot weather and the amount
of alcohol they consumed over lunch to quench their thirsty throats. It
doesn't worry me too much. In fact, I enjoy a bit of boisterous activity at
a sale; it makes for a more interesting afternoon. But I know from
experience that these rowdy buyers will place great demands on the slaves
as they stand on the block.

Good humouredly, they'll request the auctioneer to have a slave display
himself in ways other than the usual posing and posturing routinely
demanded of him. Apart from the usual flexing, stretching, twisting,
crouching and bending that a slave is made to do when he is on the block,
these buyers will eagerly make other requests of him.

I suspect the slaves in today's sale are in for an interesting
afternoon. And we spectators, in all probability, are in for an
entertaining spectacle. For me, the only downside to all this is that it
will slow down proceedings and I'll have to wait longer for the chance to
bid on lot 16.

Suddenly, the crowd cheers loudly as the first of today's offering is
dragged onto the platform and led over to the block. This slave, lot I has
pride of place in the selling order - a fact the ungrateful wretch doesn't
appreciate.

His is protesting vocally and his protests alternate between uselessly
pleading not to be sold and obscene abuse. He is struggling in his shackles
and he pulls back against the chain attached to his collar in a vain
attempt to escape. He is pathetic; he acts like so many other slaves when
faced with their imminent placement on the block - he fails to accept the
inevitability of his fate.

As the overseer, whose job it is to lead him to the auction block, yanks on
his leash the slave stumbles and falls to his knees. He is unaware that the
head overseer who has whip-driven him up the stairs is standing over
him. Piteously, he cries out in pain as the whip cuts across his back again
and again until he has no other option but to scramble to his feet and
submit. Now he shuffles across the platform and awkwardly steps up onto the
auction block where he stands sobbing and facing out towards the buyers.

As the buyers look at lot 1, they momentarily fall silent before breaking
out in loud catcalls and jeering. And who can blame them. In all the time I
have attended slave- auctions, it's doubtful if I have ever seen such a
sorry specimen of a slave as this one.

Middle-aged, fat and balding, he doesn't possess one redeeming feature that
would appeal to a master; quite the opposite - it has to be said that he
lacks any appeal whatsoever. His soft, flabby body convulses with each of
his sobs and his overhanging belly hides his miniscule genitalia from
view. His humiliation is there for all to see and he hangs his head in
shame.

The auctioneer struggles to make him heard over the shouts and jeers of the
buyers.  There are calls to "get him off", you have to be joking", "bring
out a real slave" and "no one in his right mind will bid for him".

I feel sympathy for the auctioneer; it isn't his fault. I know from a
previous conversation with Dave Matheson that this slave is a convicted
felon who MUST be offered for sale today. If the truth be known, I doubt
that Dave wants this sorry specimen included among the prime stock he has
waiting to step up onto the block.

It had been his intention to use the slave to inject a bit of humour - at
the slave's expense - into the opening of the auction, but his strategy had
obviously failed. The hoped for light banter about the slave's comical
appearance hadn't materialised; the hot weather and the semi-inebriated
state of some buyers had prevented it.

The auctioneer shouts to make him heard and to their credit, the noisy
element does quieten down and allow him to continue. He tells us that the
slave has been enslaved for fraud and embezzlement and that, in being
offered for sale, the court's judgement is being carried out. Wisely, he
doesn't prolong the issue but now calls for "any bids"; none are
offered. Three times he calls for bids but the buyers maintain their
silence.

I wonder what the slave is thinking at this moment. He has lost his
freedom, his former life and all his worldly goods. And even as a slave he
is an abject failure. As he stands on the auction block, unable to attract
any bids, his sense of his own worthlessness must be overwhelming. In the
face of the buyers' indifference and scorn, he stands unwanted and
rejected; a failure as a man, even more so as a slave.

After calling for bids from "any interested parties" and receiving none,
the auctioneer declares the property as "passed in".

At this particular moment, the slave's future is unimaginably bleak. Unable
to sell, he'll now become "property of the state" and he'll be sent to a
quarry where he'll be put to work breaking large rocks into road metal for
use in the construction and repair of country roads and city streets.

As I look at him, I imagine he'll be lucky to survive the soul destroying
hard labour and whips of the overseers for longer than eighteen months to
two years. I shiver as I contemplate his fate. He is paying a high price
for his crime. He is now removed from the block to make way for lot 2 and
taken away to the holding pens.

As lot 2 steps up onto the block, he receives a round of applause and from
somewhere among the buyers, the comment is made "This is more like it. Now,
THIS is a slave."

I look closely at lot 2 as he stands shyly on the block. He is a young
slave - I guess his age at around eighteen - and he is neither handsome nor
plain. I would describe him as comely with pleasant features and an open,
appealing face under his cropped, sandy coloured hair.

For his age, he is very well developed with powerfully built, broad
shoulders and a muscular upper body that tapers down to a trim waist. He
has strong arms and legs and his chest is covered with an attractive,
emerging hair covering that trails over the well- defined muscles of his
belly to his trimmed pubes.

Looking at him, it is clear to see that he is country-bred and his
nervousness is a clear indication that he isn`t accustomed to being
publicly displayed. He lacks the sophistication of a more worldly pleasure
slave and my guess is that he is worker used in the fields - certainly the
deep brown colour of his skin would suggest this is so - rather than the
bedroom. However, it seems to me that he possesses a potential that would
see him easily trained for service as a bed buck.

As my gaze roams over his muscular, naked body, I feel the first stirrings
of my arousal.  lot 2 is indeed a worthy offering and judging from the
murmurs of approval from my fellow buyers, I'm not the only one to think
so. His presence on the auction block does much to sweeten the mood of the
buyers after the fiasco of lot 1.

He appears to be shy and unsure of what to do next. He looks out into the
crowd and I note the look of bewilderment in his eyes. I find this youthful
shyness and his unworldliness to be charming - I am quite smitten by this
slave and wonder - should I bid for him?

Then turning to the auctioneer, he seems to seek direction; his pleading
eyes ask "what should I do?" Not unkindly, the auctioneer indicates to an
overseer to assist the slave.  The overseer gains the slave's attention by
lightly tapping his arse with a cane and then patiently guides him through
his routine.

The slave begins shyly at first, but spurred on by the many shouts of
encouragement from the buyers, he is soon at his ease - so much so that his
long, thick cock is now rampantly erect and at a forty-five degree angle to
his belly.

Looking down, I see that Obadiah Clements is leaning forward, leering at
the slave and lasciviously licking his lips. I wonder if this slave is one
of the comely ones that had caught his eye earlier. Then he asks.

"Auctioneer, can we have the slave turn around so that we can assess him
from behind, please?"

Viewing the slave from the rear only re-enforces my already favourable
impression of him. His broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist and his
small, shapely buttocks, which are divided by their deep cleft, curve into
the muscular columns of his legs. The powerful back muscles, highlighted by
the sun, ripple and dance under his coating of oil.

Again, Obadiah asks.

"Could you move his feet apart and have him bend over?"

The slave assumes the required position and then anticipating Obadiah's
next request, the auctioneer orders the slave to spread the cheeks of arse
and to expose his hole for scrutiny.

As he does so, I wonder what his feelings are. Had I been able to see his
face, I would note the deep crimson of his blush of embarrassment. His
display is rewarded with appreciative comments from the crowd.

However, Obadiah still isn't finished with the slave. He now asks.

"Can we have the boy on his knees, facing the front and with his legs
spread wide, please auctioneer?"

The auctioneer allows sufficient time for us to appraise the slave as he
kneels in this position before asking.

"Are you all done gentlemen? If so, then let's move on."

Ordered to stand and display, the slave now faces the buyers - the
physicality of his presence is an enticing invitation to the buyers to bid
for the privilege of owning him.

Briefly, I consider bidding for him. However, my strong desire to buy the
slave, Grigor - and the more practical matter of having insufficient funds
for two purchases - persuades me otherwise.

Nevertheless, I follow his sale with interest. It will be interesting to
see who buys him and for what purpose. Standing alone on the auction block
he seems so vulnerable and I find myself hoping that he is sold to a kind
master - one who'll treat him well and provide him with a good home.

I always find the bidding process incomprehensible. I have difficulty with
the rapidity with which the bids and counter bids are directed at the
auctioneer. So, whenever I'm not actually bidding, I show more interest in
who is bidding rather than the bid itself.

There is no doubt that the young slave engenders a lot of interest among
the buyers - he is after all a most desirable property - and I'm not
surprised at the strength of the bids he attracts. I note with concern that
with each bid, it is Obadiah Clements who counter bids for him. As I watch,
it becomes obvious that Obadiah really wants this slave and is prepared to
pay handsomely for him.

By a process of elimination the final bidding is between Obadiah and
another elderly buyer who is unknown to me. Eventually, Obadiah's
persistence pays off and the auctioneer brings his hammer down on the sale.

"SOLD! Lot 2 is sold to Mr Obadiah Clements. I offer you my
congratulations, Mr Clements. You have purchased well, sir. "

"Indeed I have. Indeed I have." Obadiah acknowledges and smiles broadly as
those nearest to him add their congratulations to those of the auctioneer.

I can't help but overhear Obadiah's answer to the question as to what use
he'll put his new slave to.

"He's quite delightful, isn't he? For the moment, the slave will serve as a
house servant.  But if he works hard and pleases me he could become my body
servant eventually. And of course, if he doesn't please me, well then, I'll
use him on my litter. After all, he's built like a young ox, isn't he?"

Momentarily, I feel regret that the slave has been sold to Obadiah. I doubt
very much that the slave will have either a kind master or a good home. My
guess is that Obadiah will abuse him. But then, I remind myself that this
is the true nature of slavery.

A slave sold at auction doesn't have control of his life and therefore
can't choose his master. Who owns him is determined by the market forces of
the auction process.  It's simply a case of a buyer's determination to own
him and the amount of money he is prepared to spend to do so.

As the slave steps down off the block, he nervously looks around seeking
out his new master. I see him recoil in horror when he sees to whom he now
belongs. With his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, he is lead away and
placed in a holding cage to await Obadiah's pleasure. His eyes are misted
with tears.

One by one, the other lots are led up to the auction block and sold. I have
to say that the stock offered at today's sale is top quality; in fact I'll
go further and describe them as superb. I try to think back to when I last
attended an auction where the slaves were of such a high calibre - I can't
recall one in recent memory. The slaves, without exception - I'll forget
about Lot 1 who was an aberration - are prime, young stock. None are aged
over thirty and I suppose my slave, Toby would rank among the oldest.

As the slaves are brought to the auction block, displayed and sold, my
earlier assumption that the buyers would place great demands on them proves
correct.  Repeatedly, there are shouted requests from the buyers' stand to
have the slave "bend and spread", "show us his hole", "get him to play with
his nipples", or "let's see him stroke his dick".

These are reasonable requests and the slaves' responses, depending on their
natures, range from quiet acceptance to embarrassment and shame. Annoyingly
for me, it does slow up proceedings and I have to wait that much longer for
my chance to bid. But we are gradually moving closer to my goal.

There is very little to differentiate the slaves; they are all superb. But
from time to time, there is one that interests me more than his fellows -
and there were two such slaves, lots 8 and 11.

When lot 8 mounted the block, he immediately caught my eye. With the
exception of my three slaves, he is by far and away the most handsome slave
in the day's offering.  Aged in his mid-twenties, he is tall with black
curly hair and brown eyes. However, despite his good looks he has one
fault; he has been allowed to "run to seed." Looking at him, I see that his
master has indulged him and fed him all the wrong foods.

The slave has all the hallmarks of a "pet slave", one who has been spoiled
by an over- indulgent master. Personally, I regard this as shameful neglect
of the slave on the part of his owner.

Unfortunately, there are those masters who buy a young slave for their beds
and then, through a misguided sense of affection for the slave, spoil him
with soft living and the wrong foods. I would categorise lot 8 as such a
slave.

Eventually, the bodies of these slaves deteriorate to such a condition that
they repulse their masters who then lose interest in them and sell them. I
see this as most unfair to the slave who really doesn't have any say in how
he is treated - to my mind this is a denial of a master's responsibility to
his slave.

I did treat Toby as a pet but I never over-indulged him; his diet was
strictly controlled by me and was confined to the recommended daily
allowance of slave food. Although, I did give him an occasional piece of
fruit as a reward for pleasing me - but this was very, very rare. After
all, as a caring slave-owner, I owed it to Toby to keep him healthy and his
body "trim, taut and terrific". To do otherwise would have been gross
negligence on my part.

When I looked at lot 8, I felt annoyance at his master's no doubt
well-meaning neglect of him. Underlying this neglect however, it is easy to
see the slave has an impressive physique. Despite the flabby muscle tone
and a paunchy belly, I see the slave's true potential. With the right
master the slave could be restored to his "former glory". Hard labour would
soon tighten up his body and turn his belly flab into hard muscle.

Fortunately for this slave, he is sold to an owner who also recognised his
hidden potential and, after his restoration; this owner will use him as a
pony for his rickshaw. I am pleased for the slave.

Another slave who attracts my attention is lot 11.We hear from the
auctioneer that he is aged twenty and is a newly captured soldier from the
same border skirmishes that saw lot 16 enslaved. Ethnically, these two are
as different as chalk and cheese and my guess is that they come from
opposing armies.

"My" slave, lot 16 is tall, fair-skinned and blond; whereas lot 11 is
shorter, sturdier, more hirsute and with an olive-skin and black hair.

But what attracts me to lot 11 is his wildness; he is indeed an unbroken
slave. He has an air of belligerence about him that doesn't augur well for
his immediate future. I decide his new master will need to work hard to
establish his authority over this slave.

As he is dragged to the auction block, he struggles and kicks in the grasp
of three burly overseers; one leads him by the chain attached to his collar
as the other two manhandle him into position. He'd fought his handlers all
the way from the holding race, up the steps, across the platform and on to
the block and several times we'd heard the sound of leather striking his
naked flesh - yet not once did he cry out.

I have a grudging respect for his bravery and unwillingness to submit - yet
submit he must.

Forced up onto the block, he stands proud and defiant; he obviously still
thinks of himself as a soldier and not yet as a slave. These are traits I
admire in a free man but a slave is unworthy of them. A slave doesn't need
to fell pride in anything other than in his master's possession of him and
any show of defiance can't be tolerated. Eventually it will be whipped out
of him and he`ll yield to the inevitable.

I watch as his body trembles with emotion - I wonder is it from fear or
anger? He glares out at the buyers with hate-filled eyes and his whole
manner is menacing. This slave is indeed rebellious and I note that the
overseers don't carry their usual canes; instead each is armed with a
thick, leather strap. No doubt they expected this slave to play up and had
armed themselves accordingly.

The slave acts as if he is still a freeman with rights rather than the
slave he is. His bearing suggests this much to the buyers who treat him
with derision. They seek to humiliate him by calling on the auctioneer to
exhibit his naked body in ways that truly emphasise his new status.

The slave, as I expected, refuses to co-operate with the auctioneer's
demands and stands firm. His resolve is matched by that of the auctioneer
who has had considerable experience in handling difficult slaves. He calls
on the three overseers for assistance.

The determined overseers restrain the slave but it takes several very
painful slaps to his back and arse with their straps to quieten him. Held
fast in their grip, he is now powerless and the overseers force him into a
position that better displays his body to the buyers.

His response to a buyer's request to the auctioneer to "stroke his cock" is
to struggle violently in a vain attempt to break free. Futilely, he roars
out his anger and shame as an overseer obligingly brings him to an
unwilling erection.

For all the trouble he causes, this slave proves to be a very popular lot
with the buyers.  Whilst he exhibits a number of regrettable traits -
namely his pride and resentfulness - he has an appeal to those owners who
feel challenged to break and train a slave very much as a horse-trainer
does with a high-spirited colt.

These owners are prepared to pay a high price for a slave who exhibits high
spirits and bidding for this slave is keen. Eventually, he is sold to an
owner, a friend of mine, who`ll certainly break him but will then use him
kindly and wisely. I know him to be a firm but just master and the slave is
lucky - his transition from free man to slave will be easier under the firm
guidance of my friend.

It has to be said that the presentation and sale of lot 11 has provided me
with an interesting diversion in my long, impatient wait for lot 16 to be
lead out to the auction block.

Normally, I don't empathise with slaves as they are sold; in fact it's
quite the opposite with me. I enjoy the spectacle and drama that a slave
auction provides and to my mind watching as a slave is sold isn't all that
different to watching as cattle are sold in the adjoining livestock market.

But there is an indefinable something about watching as a naked, new slave
takes his place on the rostrum and is sold for the very first time. To my
mind, total nudity is the mandatory uniform for a slave and when you strip
a newly enslaved man of his clothing, you also take away from him all those
things that had, until now, defined him as a man.

With the loss of his clothing, he is also stripped of this humanity, his
free will and his freedom to think and to act independently of others. He
has become a non-thinking, docile and obedient animal subject to the will
of a master and subservient to that master's needs.

This is now the case with lot 11 and, the gods willing; it is soon to be
the case with lot 16.

These aspects of slavery have always excited me and it is the reason why I
so desperately want to purchase lot 16. The thought of breaking and bending
him to my will is an especially erotic one for me and now, as he takes his
place on the block, my excitement is boundless.

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

Part 2: Grigor

My turn has come at last. I now stand at the front of the line just inside
the gate and I watch as the overseers come for me. I try to remain calm in
the face of the ordeal that confronts me as I'm led away to be sold and I
desperately want to retain my pride in the face of the unknown indignities
that await me.

The throbbing pain in my arse reminds me of my recent caning on the display
stand and of how easily I had capitulated. My face burns with the shame of
my cowardice.

Strangely, the thought uppermost in my mind isn't that I'm to be sold but
rather that I'm now to be parted from my best friend, Axel. We'd been
through so much together as soldiers, comrades and friends and I'm
overwhelmed with sadness that, after today, we'll most probably never see
each other again. Our lives and our futures are no longer ours to determine
or control; very shortly we'll be owned properties and subject to the whims
of our new masters. My mind seethes with the injustice of this.

I feel the warmth of Axel's hard body pressed up against my back and with
only seconds left before I am taken out of the race, I shuffle back against
him. If I could turn, I would do so and clasp him in a final embrace but
the press of all the bodies behind me makes this impossible. I have to
content myself with the feel of his chest against my back and his groin
pressed hard up against my buttocks. For a few brief seconds, I get to
savour the delicious feel of his erection pulsating against my crack.

As an overseer unbolts the gate, Axel lowers his head and chokingly
whispers.

"Good luck, mate".

"You too, Axel." I reply through my tears. I'm overwhelmed with the emotion
of our parting.

I stand quietly as an overseer clips his chain leash to my collar and tugs
on it indicating I'm to follow him. He is assisted by two other overseers
who are armed with thick leather straps. Initially, they had carried canes
to control us but had discarded these in favour of the straps after one of
the slaves had earlier acted up as he was taken to the auction block. Now
they don't hesitate to use them on us.

"Are you going to come quietly, slave or do we have to whip you along?" I'm
asked.

"I'll come quietly, sir." I answer docilely. After all, what choice do I
have?

As I climb the steps, the indistinct conversation of the buyers grows
louder. Waiting in the race for my turn, I had heard the boisterous
cheering that greeted each slave's arrival as he climbed up onto the
auction block and the lively banter between the buyers and the auctioneer
as he was exhibited to them. I am now to experience this for myself.

Reaching the top, I'm temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight and
hesitate. I hear the shouted order to "MOVE!" and feel the agonising bite
of an overseer's strap on my rump. I cry out with the sudden, unexpected
pain and hear loud cheering coming from the buyers' seats.

I wonder - are they cheering at my arrival on the block or because I've
tasted the overseer's strap? How can people be so heartless and indifferent
to another's suffering?

I am yanked forward by my leash and led over to a raised, wooden block
approximately 45 cm higher than the surrounding platform. Responding to the
order to "STEP UP!", I awkwardly, try to move up onto the block but the
chains around my ankles hinder me.  To help me, I receive another slap
across my arse from an overseer's strap and my cry of pain is answered with
laughter from the watching crowd.

As I stand on the auction block, I lower my head in humiliation and
defeat. The wooden block feels smooth under my feet and I notice its
surface has been worn into a slight concave by the bare feet of the
countless, naked slaves who have preceded me to this spot.

Tears sting my eyes and I begin to shake uncontrollably with the full
horror of my situation. As I tremble, the shackles around my wrists and
ankles rattle noisily. I wait for what seems an eternity as the auctioneer
introduces me to the buyers. His comments are rewarded with a round of
appreciative applause.

How can I, who until just a few short weeks ago, was young, free, and
excited by life's unfulfilled promises, best describe my feelings? I am no
longer free; my nakedness and my `S' brand stamp me as a nameless slave who
waits on the pleasure of these men as they clamour to buy me. No longer a
man, I am now a chattel, an object to be exhibited and haggled over. I ask
- what right do these people have to take away my freedom, rob me of my
humanity and turn me into a slave? A slave without an identity other than
the brand my new master will shortly place on my body and which will mark
me as his property?

Every fibre of my being screams "I'm not a slave" yet I know that I AM and
that I don't have any other option but to submit to whoever buys me and to
serve him loyally as his slave.

Mercifully, my troubled mind shuts down and I'm only vaguely aware of what
is happening to me. I hear the auctioneer talking, but don't fully
comprehend what he is saying. I hear the comments, laughter and
good-natured banter coming from the buyers' stand but I don't focus it on
myself.

Disinterested, I'm aware that the overseers are posing me into positions
that display me to best advantage. I feel my foreskin eased back along the
shaft of my cock before I'm stroked to a full erection and I aware that I
have been turned with my back to the buyers and bent double.

I feel hands pulling my arse-cheeks apart exposing me to the buyers' full
scrutiny. I no longer care as I hear the crude laughter and ribald comments
that the sight of my arse- hole provokes.

The auctioneer's invitation to the buyers to bid for my body doesn't
register with me nor do I fully comprehend the cacophony of raised voices
as they eagerly respond. The noisy clamour of the men's voices as they
outbid one another for right to own me doesn`t penetrate my indifference.

But then, the loud bang of the auctioneer`s gavel as it strikes the top of
his lectern jerks me back to reality and I hear his words.

"SOLD! The slave, lot 16 has been sold to Mr Andrew Trevorrow. May I offer
my congratulations to you, Mr Trevorrow?  I know how much you wanted this
slave. And I might add that he is very good buy."

His pronouncement chills me to the very depth of my being. My fate is
sealed. I am now officially a slave - the property of another man.

This announcement is met with a round of quiet applause


                               <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


Part 3: Andy

I am elated. I have my replacement for Toby. The slave, Grigor is now mine;
although it was a closely run race to get him.

There was considerable interest shown in him by the other buyers and I was
forced to go higher for him than I had expected. With each of my bids,
there was a counter bid from those other buyers also eager to possess him.

I really can't blame them. The slave's appearance was superb as he stood on
the auction block. When he first appeared on the platform the buyers had
cheered appreciatively - as they should.

His demeanour wasn't what I expected of him, however and it did disappoint
me. I had expected that he might fight like the earlier slave, lot 11, but
he didn`t. It was as though he`d given up and accepted his fate. I had
hoped for him to retain some small spark of rebellion for me to train out
of him. Still, it is early days and I suspect there may be some spirit left
in him for me to play with.

Standing on the block he'd appeared disbelieving and not fully aware of
proceedings; although the overseer's two very sharp slaps to his arse - no
doubt very painful - did temporarily snap him out of lethargy. But it
didn't last. His responses to the auctioneer's instructions and the buyers'
requests lacked spontaneity and he had to be assisted by the overseers. In
fact, they were the ones who posed his body, stroked his cock to erection
and opened his hole to our scrutiny.

I find it interesting to note a slave's re-action to being sold. The old
hands - those who are already slaves - are mostly uninhibited and they
display their bodies with enthusiasm; no doubt they are hoping to attract a
good master. Still others, like the young slave sold at the beginning of
the sale, start out shyly, but urged on by the appreciative buyers, they
quickly gain confidence and happily pose for us.

I've never worried too much about the state of a slave's mind. After all, a
slave's emotions or what he thinks are unimportant. But I did find the
differences in attitude to being sold - as exhibited by lot 11 and my new
slave - as curious and briefly, I did wonder about them.

Why did one slave stand defiantly on the auction block whilst the other
just simply yielded? I suppose like free men, the newly enslaved do have
differing mechanisms for dealing with their traumas. But it isn't a thought
that I wasted too much time on; as I said a slave's emotional state is
inconsequential.

I watch excitedly as my new slave is led away to a holding cage to await my
taking delivery of him. I politely acknowledge the congratulations of my
fellow buyers; the general consensus from them is that I`d acquired a most
desirable property.

With interest, I follow the sale of my second choice, lot 17 as he is
displayed and sold to the elderly buyer who had competed with Obadiah
Clements for the young slave, lot 2.

There isn't any doubt in my mind as to the uses this slave will be put
to. In the event that I'd been unsuccessful in buying lot 16, he'd have
made a very good substitute for my new slave. I know both are virgins and
either would serve admirably in my bed.  However, I'm more than happy with
my purchase and I look forward to taking his cherry.

There is still some time to go before my three slaves are sold - I decide
there is time enough for me to visit my new slave in the holding pens.


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


Part 4: Toby

"GENTLEMEN! GENTLEMEN! May I have your attention, please?"

The auctioneer's words hush the noisy chatter of the increasingly vocal
crowd and they listen silently as he continues.

"Gentlemen, Matheson's is privileged to put before you, lots 25 and
26. These three slaves are the property of Mr Andrew Trevorrow, who is
well-known to many of you and they present the discerning buyer with an
opportunity to obtain what is to my mind the pick of today's
offering. These three slaves are in superb condition and are for the
connoisseurs among you. I expect heavy bidding for them, so gentlemen
you'll need to loosen your purse-strings. These slaves won't sell
cheaply. I'll give you more detail on the individual lots as they stand
before you. But let me just point out that lot 26 is a very rare commodity
- a perfectly matched pair of young slaves - which gives you the chance to
buy what is unique in today's market."

With these words, I'm introduced to the buyers.


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


My turn has come at last. As lot 24 is led away to meet his new master, I
am manhandled out of the race and up the steps onto the platform.

As I'm taken to the auction block, my feelings are mixed. I have a sense of
something akin to excitement at what is happening to me. Being sold - and
although I prefer that this didn't happen - is something new; a break in
the dull monotony of my slave existence. So, there is that sense of change
but whether this is for the better, I'm yet to discover. And naturally,
there is my heightened feeling of apprehension about the uncertainty of my
future. But I am a slave and I conduct myself as such.

As I'm led to the block, I carry myself with as much dignity as my chains
allow. Without conceit, I know I look good and that I have a body that is
pleasing to a master's eye. I take a secret pride in my appearance; after
all, a slave's appearance is the only thing he possesses, but even that is
conditional on his master's treatment of it. I was lucky; my master always
took pride and pleasure in keeping me fit and attractive.

Anyway, I walk with my head held high, my body erect, with my chest thrust
out and my stomach sucked in. I feel myself sweating in the intense heat
beating down on the exposed platform and I suppose the combination of
sweat, display oil and bright sunlight highlights my musculature. I'm aware
of the appreciative murmuring coming from the buyers' stand.

As I take my place on the auction block, an overseer forces my feet apart
and arranges my cock and balls to better display them before raising my
head until I look out over the heads of the assembled buyers. The thought
flashes through my mind - how do I appear to the crowd? Do they find me
pleasing?

I stand placidly as the auctioneer extols the salient features of my body
and nature and I listen with interest to what he has to say about me.

"If I could have your attention please gentlemen? You have before you lot
25. He is approximately 28 years old and has been a slave since he was a
boy. During all that time he has been Mr Trevorrow's personal slave and
constant companion and I'm given to understand he's even-natured and sweet
tempered. The only reason that he is offered for sale today is for Mr
Trevorrow's desire for `change' - and we can all relate to that, can't we?
Mr Trevorrow has already purchased a replacement for him and this slave is
now offered for genuine sale. I'm told he is loyal and obedient and has
been trained to such a high standard that he'll delight the most demanding
of owners should you buy him for the bedroom. Already considerable interest
has been shown in him as a possible stud and I'm sure you'll agree that he
is very well equipped for such a task. I'm happy to take your questions and
should you wish to have his body displayed in a special way, I'm also happy
to oblige. So, please gentlemen, let me know your wishes."

The buyers waste little time in accepting the auctioneer's invitation to
display me. In response to their requests, I am made to stroke myself to an
erection, then twist and pull my nipples until they are swollen and
hard. As my cock stiffens and lengthens, the buyers cheer loudly. I try to
ignore their crude comments made at my expense and blank out my mind to
what is happening to me.

"Auctioneer, could you have him bend at the waist, please? We need to see
his arse."

I am ordered to bend, pull my arse-cheeks apart and display my hole.

"I assume he's been well used? How tight is he, auctioneer?"

I flinch as the auctioneer cruelly thrusts his finger into my arse and
laughingly replies.

"He's very tight indeed. I don't think you'll have any complaints in that
area."

Ordered to stand and face the front, I listen in dismay as a buyer in the
front row speaks to the overseer.

"Auctioneer, I'd like to see him stoke his cock again, but a little bit
slower this time please?"

To my horror, I recognise him as the repulsively overweight individual who
had examined me on the display platform during the morning. He is leaning
forward and peering at me most intently. I have no other option but to
comply with his request.

As I slowly stroke my penis, I struggle to stop myself from ejaculating. My
body tenses, my breathing becomes laboured and without realising it, my
hips are thrusting back and forth in time with my hand movements. Oblivious
to the buyers, I enjoy the pleasurable sensations sweeping through my body.

Then suddenly, as I'm on the point of my eruption, my hand is pulled away
from my cock and an overseer applies his strap to my arse. My yelp of
surprise and pain at the unexpectedness of this delights the buyers who
laugh at my frustration.

"Are you satisfied, Mr Clements?" The auctioneer asks.

"Very much so, auctioneer. But I do have one last request. Can we have the
slave on his knees with his head to the block and his arse up in the air
and facing out to us?"

The dimensions of the auction block barely allow me to do this and once I'm
in position, I'm ordered to spread my knees as wide as
possible. Humiliatingly, I now feel my arse- crack open up and the stress
placed on my sphincter causes it to spasm; my balls hang heavy between my
thighs.

Looking back to the buyers through my widely spaced legs, I see my pre-cum
dribbling from my piss-slit and I feel the auctioneer's cupped hand as he
evaluates my balls.

"Gentlemen! As you can see the slave has an excellent pair of knockers and
I understand they have already engendered much interest from those wishing
to breed him. Now, if you're all through with examining him, then let's
move on?"

Once more, I feel the strap as it cuts across my arse-cheeks and I'm
ordered to my feet and told to face the buyers. I listen as the auctioneer
invites the buyers to bid for me.

"I'm sure you would agree with me that lot 25 is an exceptional slave and
one worthy of your interest. He has only ever had one owner and his master
has always respected the slave and kept him in prime condition, as you can
see.  Gentlemen, I now invite you to get out your wallets and bid for this
most desirable property, lot 25. I call for your bids.  Who`ll start me
off?"

I thought I was inured to the degradation of my slavery; in fact, it was
something I wasn't aware of. That is, until now. I'd always served my
master happily as his slave simply because no other life was open to
me. Neither my state of subservience nor my habitual nakedness had ever
worried me in the past. They were quite natural and I'd never felt
embarrassed or shamed by them. I'd always felt pride in my master's
possession of me and strove to make him proud of me.

But I'm unprepared for what is happening to me now. This very public
display of the most intimate parts of my body and auctioneer's invitation
to bid for me makes me feel ashamed and humiliated. I wonder - do all
slaves have these emotions as they are sold?

I can't think of a more dehumanising experience for a slave than to be sold
at public auction.

I can't follow the bidding process. It is beyond me to follow either the
speed with which the bids are made or to understand the incomprehensible
exchanges between the auctioneer and the bidders. Rather than follow the
bids, I try to see who it is that is doing the bidding.

I judge by the frenzied shouting that I am a popular lot. Certainly the
number of buyers vying with each other to buy me indicates that this is
so. However, by a process of elimination, my fate now rests with two
bidders.

In my nervous apprehension, I try to see who they are but this is made
impossible by the dazzling sunlight which obscures my view of the buyers'
stand. I do hear the auctioneer refer to them by their names - Mr Theodore
Russell of Redgrove Plantation known to me from my very first pre-sale
inspection and a Mr Obadiah Clements.

For the next few minutes, I'm able to follow events as these two vie with
each other for the right to own me. They are spurred on by the auctioneer
who constantly urges each to out-bid the other until finally there is a
lull in the proceedings and I hear the auctioneer say.

"The bid is against you, Mr Russell. Are you finished?"

"YES! I'm done."

I think I detect a note of annoyance in Theodore Russell's answer. Did he
really want to own me all that much?

"Then if you're all done, Mr Russell? You're quite sure? Then going
... ONCE ..........TWICE........YOU"RE SURE YOU"RE ALL DONE?
.......... SOLD! The slave is sold to Mr Obadiah Clements. Once again you
have purchased well, Mr Clements.  Congratulations!"

The auctioneer's words are met with a round of applause and I'm left to
wonder - who is my new master?

An overseer steps forward and attaches his leash to my collar before I'm
led off the platform and taken to the holding pens and placed in a cage
with another young slave.  Here, with trepidation, we both await our new
master's pleasure.


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


Part 5: The Aftermath of Andy's Decision

I watch as Toby is led onto the platform He is a truly magnificent specimen
and briefly I regret my decision to sell him.

The bright sunlight highlights his clean, freshly shaven body under it
coating of oil and his skin gleams like burnished copper. He is sweating
profusely from the heat of the day which only adds to his eroticism.

He walks proudly erect within his shackles and he holds his closely cropped
head high; his piercing blue eyes look calmly ahead towards the auction
block. His muscular chest is thrust out and he is obviously taking great
pains to keep his stomach taut so that the shape of his powerful torso is
accentuated. His semi-hard cock points the way to the waiting block and his
balls swing freely within their pendulous sack between his strong
thighs. At the sight of his magnificent body - one I know intimately - I
feel my own prick spring to life in one, final salute to him.

I am proud of Toby as I watch him walk with dignity towards the block. I
feel that pride of ownership that one has in possessing a truly beautiful
animal or valuable art object.  Sadly, I reflect that, for most of my life,
Toby has truly been a part of me and the "giver of much pleasure".

At this moment I bitterly regret my decision to part with him, but then my
thoughts turn to my new slave, Grigor and the promise he holds for me and
my mood lightens. I listen intently to what the auctioneer has to say about
Toby and I'm not altogether surprised at the strength of the bidding for
him.

I had genuinely believed he would be bought by one of the stud-owners who
had shown so much interest in him prior to the sale. It comes as a complete
surprise to me that he is eventually bought by the lecherous Obadiah
Clements.

My mind is shocked by the realisation that Toby is now the slave of this
odious man and I recall from our earlier conversation the fate that now
awaits him. Toby will be forced to service Obadiah as his body servant
until such time as he loses his appeal and is replaced with another slave.

What was it that Obadiah had said about changing his body servants almost
as often as he changed his bed sheets? "My" Toby would then be condemned to
carry Obadiah's grotesque bulk on his shoulders as one of his
litter-bearers.

My mind recoils at the thought of this and tears of remorse fill my
eyes. How could I have behaved so foolishly and so self-absorbed in my
needs to allow this to happen to Toby?

Dejectedly, I remain and watch the sale of my remaining two slaves - the
matched pair - to the Middleton sisters; but I am disinterested and their
successful sale doesn`t excite me. My mind is too pre-occupied with Toby.

Not wishing to come face-to-face with Obadiah, I quietly leave the buyers'
stand and make my way to the holding pens. Here, as I collect my new slave,
I pass by Toby`s cage.

Briefly, our eyes meet, but he doesn't acknowledge me; I am no longer his
master. But, I see the sadness and the innocent unawareness of what awaits
him reflected in his eyes; I wonder does he see the guilt and remorse
mirrored in mine?

Devastated, I now realise that I have selfishly sacrificed the warm embrace
of a loving and devoted slave for the cold, inanimate figures of the two
bronze wrestlers.

Too late, I see that it is Toby who is truly the "Object of MY Desire."


To be concluded............