Date: Sun, 2 Nov 2008 22:11:51 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: THE BAZAAR - Chapter 7 (Gay; Authoritarian)

THE BAZAAR

by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)

Chapter 7

THE ORIGINS OF BILL'S NEWLY PURCHASED BLOND PLEASURE SLAVE

     The two Williams brothers spent their days getting copper out of the
ground now that they had the means of doing it.  They spent their nights
discovering just how nice it was to have a pleasure slave at your disposal.

     Of the two brothers, Bill was the most curious.  For example, he
wouldn't rest until he found out exactly where his own pleasure slave, the
magnificent blond he had bought at The Bazaar, had originally come from,
and that curiosity extended over to his brother's pleasure slave, the
handsome black, and even to the 100 or so black brutes bought solely for
the work to be extracted from them over the coming years.

     Neither of the two brothers were terribly inventive.  They had simply
named their two pleasure slaves the last two digits of their Bazaar auction
numbers: 813456 and 813444.  Hence Chad's beautiful brown pleasure slave
was called #44 and Bill's purchase was called #56.  Both brothers were
astounded that even though The Bazaar had only been in operation several
months before they visited, they had already sold 813,456 slaves by the
time Bill bought his pleasure slave.  The Bazaar had the practice of
sequentially numbering their sales from the very first product despite what
type of slave they were, although within each category (draft, pleasure,
house, office, factory, etc.) they had a secondary number based on
sequential sale within that category.  Hence, Bill's pleasure slave was
actually #813456-P1056 indicating that slave was the 813,456th slave sold
at The Bazaar and the 1056th boy sold and specifically trained as a
Pleasure Slave.  The draft slaves they had bought only hours before had
numbers running in the 812,500-812,600 range so sales volume at The Bazaar
was clearly evident.

     Over many nights, Bill had explored every aspect of #56's body. He had
fingered every square inch of his smooth white hide and found no defects,
no birthmarks, no moles - only a little stubble from his daily body shaves
and a few scars on his back and rump where a mean slave whip had left its
marks, no doubt from a zealous trainer somewhere along the line.  His
fingers had checked out #56's teeth and tits, his lips had explored all
aspects of the slave's ears, face and nipples, and his prick had probed all
aspects of the property's mouth, throat, and asshole. Those investigations
had revealed the slave had tits as easy to arouse as his large prick, that
his balls were usually full to overflowing and responded well to being
massaged, that he could be milked to full output with just a few strokes of
his usually firm erect penis, that the slave never seemed to object to
fondling of his tits or sex organs no matter how rough or how long it
continued or even who was doing it, that the slave remained tight and eager
no matter how often he was fucked, that the slave could take even the
largest dildo without excessive groaning and grimacing, and that the deeper
you drove your prick into his ass, the more his ass muscles literally
milked you in response.  It was obvious #56's training in utilizing his
body to bring his owner the utmost pleasure had been totally
successful. Even better, the blond slave seemed to delight in being used,
no matter what his master wanted.  It was almost uncanny: #56 seemed to
have the ability to read his owner's mind in what to do next to bring
maximum pleasure and sexual satisfaction in the master's use of his body.

     On the second night of fucking #56, Bill couldn't withhold his
curiosity any longer and began a thorough questioning of the slave under
him.

     "Where were you born, 56?" Bill asked the slave who, at the moment,
was accommodating taking his master's shaft all the way up his anal chute.

     "Paraguay, master," the slave responded softly as he shuffled his body
slightly to make it easier for his master to shove his prick even further
into him. "In a small town called Puesto Estrella, master, near the
Bolivian border." 56 shuddered as Bill's prick rubbed his prostate as it
plumbed the slave's ass cavity. "Oh, master, thank you," the pleasure slave
moaned in response.

     "It's good for a slave to enjoy his duties," Bill said as he increased
the tempo of his ass pounding. "But Paraguay?  Down in South America?  I
thought you would be from Denmark or Norway or some Baltic country like
Latvia what with your blond hair and blue eyes.  Paraguay?  How does a blue
eyed blond boy get himself born in South America, slave?"

     56 was breathing hard from the serious ass pounding he was receiving
and his breath was a bit ragged as he struggled to tighten his ass muscles
around the invading shaft, now well up inside him.  "Yes,.... yes, master.
I....  was ....born ... in Puesto Estrella..  My.... mother...  was from
Lithuania originally and her boyfriend .... my father... he was from
Russia....  They ...oh, master, that feels so good.......  They were
immigrants to Paraguay looking for work and found jobs at an estatio they
thought raised cattle near the Bolivian border...  But,
.... oh.... master...  you want me to explain now while you're enjoying my
body, master?"

     "Why not, slave?" Bill answered, never stopping his steady rhythm of
pumping the ass beneath him. "Keep those ass muscles tight, slave... that
feels real good, and churn that ass around a little to I can feel all of
you, slave."

     "Yes, master," the slave responded as he instantly began twisting his
ass around the inserted pole to increase his master's pleasure.  "Master,
the ranch was very remote - miles from anywhere - and it turned out that
growing cattle was a sideline.  The real business, master, was growing
slaves.  You see, master, it was mainly a stud farm for the production of
slaves. My parents both took employment there - they were desperate for
work and could care less what the farm produced - but one rule to keeping
your job there was that you had to make sure no slaves ever escaped and
that if any employee got pregnant, the offspring would just be added to the
farm mix since they didn't want any employee burdened down with children
while they worked there.  You see, master, in Paraguay they would be
deported if they didn't have employment, so they agreed to anything their
employer wanted."

     Bill reared his head back, arched his back and thrust into 56's ass as
far as he could while he erupted a full load in five separate pulses until
thick white cum was leaking out of 56's hole and running down his thighs in
small riverlets.  After getting his breath back, Bill slowly withdrew from
his slave's ass whereupon 56 promptly cleaned it thoroughly with his mouth.

     "Shall I continue my story while you rest, master, or did you want to
fuck me again now?"  56 asked politely. "Or perhaps a leisurely sucking, my
master?"

     "I'll play with that big dick of yours while you continue the tale of
your whereabouts, 56," Bill commanded, as his pleasure slave promptly
assumed a position where his master would have the most convenient assess
to his large erect prick and swollen balls, quivering in need from the
recent heavy prostate stimulation and the fact he had not been given
permission to ejaculate while being fucked.

     "Yes, master," the slave replied as Bill reached down and started
slowly stroking the huge shaft presented to him with one hand and massaging
the slave's huge balls with the other hand.  Assess was very easy to his
slave's organs since the slave had been banded around his genitals while at
The Bazaar to assure protrusiveness for a good display and to make the
slave easy to fondle when desired. "Well, after a couple of years, my
mother was pregnant as a result of her boyfriend fucking her every night
and, as you know, master, in Catholic countries it is impossible to buy any
form of birth control - even condoms are unknown in Paraguay, master.
After she was pregnant, her boyfriend found another girlfriend among the
employees and so my mother had to take me to the slave nursery after I was
born in order to keep her job.  After a week or so, she lost interest in me
and I seldom saw her after that.  They tell me she promptly got pregnant
again with another male employee and died in childbirth of that second
baby, although the baby lived and my brother, I guess you would call him,
got added to the slave nursery also."

     "I'm going to pump your cock, 56, but no cumming for a while.  It's
relaxing to just play with your dick now, and, besides, I find your little
tale interesting - for a slave, that is," Bill said as he continued to
slowly churn the slave's balls through the fingers of one hand and squeezed
the slave's pulsing prick with the fingers of his other hand. "Keep those
legs wide apart, 56," he ordered as the slave stretched his legs as wide
apart as possible for his master's convenience in playing with him.

     "Yes, master," the slave replied.  "Would you like to play with my
tits, master?" the slave invited, thrusting his chest out provocatively.

     "Good idea, 56," Bill smiled as he moved one hand from the slave's
balls and moved them to the slave's left tit, nicely swollen around the
ring piercing it, and began kneading the tit as the slave moaned in
response.  "You were born to a free mother but raised like a product of the
slave breeding farm?"

     "Yes, master."

     "Then technically you're not a slave after all?" Bill asked
suspiciously.  "I paid big money for you, I've got ownership papers all
signed and notarized, and your ass sports The Bazaar's own slave brand."

     "Oh, no, master.  I'm a slave every way possible, master, and always
will be, master.  The Bazaar never sells questionable or disputed property,
master.  They make sure of that long before we're auctioned off, master.
In my case, under Paraguayan law, a free birth placed in a slave nursery by
their mother is a slave the minute the owner of the slave nursery takes
responsibility for raising the newborn.  Why else would anyone absorb the
cost of raising an infant, if they couldn't sell them when they were of
age, master?  The lawmakers of Paraguay passed that law long ago -
otherwise boys like me would just starve to death.  No body is going to
feed a child that isn't theirs - not in a poor country like Paraguay,
master. When I was shipped to The Bazaar to be sold, the ownership papers
were all in order and fully legal.  I was the property of the breeding farm
just as much as if they had bred me themselves down in the farm's rutting
sheds.  In fact, master, for most of my childhood, I thought Big Wolfgang,
one of the farm's prize studs, was my sire.  Everyone said I looked like
him, probably because he was a slave imported from Germany who had blond
hair and blue eyes himself and was kept might busy producing pups looking
just like me.  When I matured, I even seemed to have Wolfgang's big prick
and balls, master, so I was convinced he had sired me, especially since the
other studs were either Brazilian blacks or some big well-hung brown
stallions they had bought in the Gambia. I never knew what my mother's boy
friend looked like, but someone in the pens a lot older than me told me he
looked something like Big Wolfgang and, even though he was free, fucked
around just about as much as Big Wolfgang, who didn't have any choice in
the matter and usually humped a wench four or five times a day down in the
rutting shed, day in and day out.  I know that for a fact, because I used
to see them taking him down them by the leash fastened to his collar,
always hard and dripping, his big balls swinging away as he was led down
there, and always looking like he was ready to go the minute a wench was
placed under him.  Uh, master... I'm sorry, master,... my tit's a little
sore from yesterday yet, master.  But your slave is used to it, master, so
pay no heed to my stupid outburst.  If it bothers you, master, you could
play with my other tit which isn't bleeding, master," 56 timorously
suggested.  "They're yours to play with, of course, master," 56 added in
full acknowledgment that his master owned him entirely and if he enjoyed
getting blood all over his fingers than who was a slave to object.

     "Continue your tale, 56," Bill ordered as he wiped the blood off of
his fingers in the slave's golden hair and then placed his fingers on the
slave's other ringed tit as 56 had suggested and began pulling and twisting
that well entrenched ring.

     "Master, when we were four or five, we were taken out of the nursery
and put into training - little jobs at first, master, like sorting coal or
picking cotton or weeding the gardens - just any job where we learned to
work from sunup to sundown and with a overseer and his whip over us.  But
by the time we were 10 or so, we were put to heavy work, like shoveling
coal or planting and picking the crops.  When we started our spurt into
manhood a few years later, they sorted us out pretty carefully, master.
Those who were turning into handsome men and whose manhood was promising to
be real big, master and who had nice looking bodies were sorted out to be
potential pleasure slaves if we took to our training well.  Those not so
pretty, but who were getting real muscular, went to the part of the farm
where they trained draft slaves.  The delicate ones who wouldn't hold up in
the fields were routed over to the schools for office slaves, factory
slaves, janitorial slaves, and that sort of thing.  Of course, master,
those were just general classifications until they saw how our bodies ended
up when we stopped growing and how well we took to our training for various
specialities."

     "What do you mean, took to your training, slave?" Bill queried as he
continued squeezing and stroking 56's huge shaft, now dripping considerable
amounts of pre-cum.

     "Master, in my program, if a slave wasn't very outgoing and didn't
have much charm to him, but cooperated well enough and had a really
nice-looking body with an exceptional prick and balls on him that was easy
to arouse, they didn't just make him a draft slave right off.  Instead,
they put him into training as a brothel slave where personality didn't
matter so much but you had to have lots of endurance. Brothel slaves still
brought a premium price, usually, so the slave would be well treated, but
he had to prove he had stamina and didn't mind being used sexually around
the clock.  Otherwise, he'd find himself being trained for the mines or a
road construction crew before he even knew what happened."

     "Did that work?  The life of a brothel slave isn't easy, you know,
56," Bill said.

     "No, master, it isn't generally.  But early in our program, they took
us down in the mines to see the fear-crazed whip-scarred slaves down there
and then to a construction site that was manned with filthy slaves chained
together by their neck collars under a heavy whip.  When we saw with our
own eyes all the tales we had heard were really true and then some, master,
we headed back to our training programs with renewed energy.  After that,
master, not one slave raised even the slightest objection to anything asked
of them - no matter what - and we made damn sure, master, we did what we
were told to do with a big smile on our face and a willing attitude."

     "That was a good strategy, 56," Bill chuckled.  "Letting a slave know
things can always get worse if a good lesson to learn."

     "Yes, master.  Taking the biggest dildo they make up your butt is
nothing to having the shit beat out of you with the razor whips they use in
the mines, master," 56 said soberly.  "I didn't realize how lucky we
pleasure slaves were until I saw the alternatives, master."

     "Yeah, you good looking boys lucked out," Bill said.  "Just don't ever
forget it," he added as he squeezed 56's balls especially hard for
emphasis.

     "No master, I won't.  Do you want me to continue telling you my story,
master, or do you want me to shut up and just enjoy your property?" 56
asked in a very subservient tone that showed the upmost respect for his
owner.

     "Both," Bill chortled as he accelerated his stroking of 56's huge
dripping shaft.

     "We pleasure slaves were taught over many months everything we would
need to know to prove satisfactory to a new owner.  We learned to take even
a 15 incher down our throat without choking, how to swallow a load no
matter how big it is, how to massage a shaft thrust down our throat with
our throat muscles and without gagging, how to fuck a mistress for as long
as she likes without shooting off, how to milk a master's prick when it's
all the way up our hole, how to pump a master off when he wants his slave
to do all the work and we're on top riding up and down on his pole, how to
stimulate a master's prostate when he wants us to fuck him without shooting
off ourselves until he tells us to, how to get used to having our nipples
played with for hours at a time, and how to exhibit ourselves fully hard
and dripping on verbal command alone.  It takes about three months to learn
all the techniques a slave bought for the pleasure he can bring needs to
know in order to justify his purchase price. Master, some slaves had never
been put to a woman before training; others, despite being penned with men
all the time, had never really explored all the things a master might want
from a male slave's body.  By the time training was over, they wasn't
anything we hadn't experienced - even, master, having a dog fuck us or
having us fuck a donkey.  They told us you never know what a mistress or
master might want for their amusement. That included, master, learning how
to take a good beating or some body tortures if that was what a master or
mistress found brought him or her pleasure."

     "Sounds like a good training program," Bill said.  "A pleasure slave
should, at the very least, be prepared for whatever might bring an owner
pleasure.  That's why they're usually called pleasure slaves instead of the
old-fashioned term sex slave, although that's what you do most of the time,
I'm sure - provide an appropriate sex outlet for your owner."

     "Tell me, 56, if you were a free man and could buy a slave, would you
use that slave to at least offer you sexual relief?"

     56 looked puzzled for a moment and then, realizing the question was
purely hypothetical, quickly answered.  "Of course, master, Every slave,
not just sex slaves, get used for sex.  Those mine slaves are screwed
regularly by their overseers; the construction slaves are fucked all the
time by their supervisors, house slaves are used by practically everyone
that walks by, office slaves spend more time on their backs than walking
around doing errands, and even the dray slaves hitched to the wagons are
fucked in place by the people they deliver to.  Even slaves not sold yet
are fucked in the pens by other slaves the minute a handler's back is
turned.  If you're a slave, master, you're going to get used sexually, and
every slave knows that the minute a collar is locked around his neck. Goes
with the territory," 56 said with a huge smile on his face. "It's just we
pleasure slaves are better at it," he giggled as he thrust his huge organ
even further into his master's hand.

     "When you got shipped to The Bazaar for sale, did they train you even
more?" Bill asked.

     "In my case, it wasn't necessary, master.  They test everyone out in
every area you can imagine and, if you pass all their tests with flying
colors, they start preparing your body for the auction block.  If you slip
up a bit on any of the tests, they shunt you off to their training school
right there on the grounds and, it's my understanding, master, within two
weeks they can teach a slave how to totally address his weak areas to the
point where he's fully competent and then it's off to market for the
merchandise.  Master, one of the boys from the breeding farm in Paraguay
didn't perform well in the test for fucking a mistress to her exact
specifications.  They whisked him off for special training and within a
week he could please any female owner, no matter how long she wanted to be
fucked or exactly how she wanted to be fucked. It was a good thing, master,
because he was sold off to a very demanding mistress, I understand, who
wanted her new slave to fuck her and her three sons as well as all her
friends who came to party everyday.  At those parties, she liked to see him
fucked by her other studs as well as suck them off.  On top of all that,
master, he told me, when I saw him a few days later after his sale, she
milked him first thing every morning in that she thought drinking down a
good load of fresh cum would help retain her youthful looks.  So, master,
it was a good thing he had that extra training."

     "A lot of slaves get milked for their cum these days," Bill said.
"Most of my friends are into it - sort of a hot new craze in the eternal
search for youth," he laughed.

     "Yes, master, you can milk me anytime you want, master if you want to
see if it helps," 56 said with no qualms.  "They told me at the training
school in Paraguay my cum is quite tasty, master, but you, of course, could
find that out for yourself anytime you wished. It's yours for the taking,
master, as you are well aware."

     "Well, my brother Chad is drinking a glass of hot cum every day from
his bed buck," Bill laughed. "Let's see if it does anything for him before
I begin draining those big balls of yours regularly.  Chad tells me milking
a slave regularly makes their balls grow bigger over time.  Did they say
anything about that in your training program, 56?"

     "Yes, master.  They said your balls swell gradually when you're milked
regularly, but, as I remember, they said it's not too noticeable unless
your owner starts milking you four or five times a day and gets a full load
out of you each time."

     "Well, a cow's udder gets bigger the more you milk them, so I suppose
the same is true of most animals," Bill said.

     "Master.... master..... I'm going to shoot.... if you don't stop
stroking me, master."

     "Well, I could order you not to, of course, but I tired of playing
around with you anyway.  Get on your hands and knees.  I'll fuck you one
more time and, if you're good at taking the fucking, I'll let you shoot off
while I'm fucking you since you filled me in on your background so well."

     With that, Bill let loose of 56's throbbing prick, the slave quickly
flipped over on his hands and knees with his hole easily accessible, and
his master quickly inserted his large penis all the way up the slave's hole
without any preliminaries.  He then pumped vigorously and deeply until he
felt, once again, a full load working its way up his prick to full
discharge into the slave's ass.  56 took advantage of his master's
permission to shoot off at last, and did so, copiously and continuously
right onto the ground beneath him while his master once again filled his
ass with hot frothy cum. Within two minutes, Bill collapsed onto the back
of his slave and the slave holding his weight relished the feeling of balls
freshly emptied.

     A minute after that, 56 had cleaned off his master's prick, now fully
withdrawn from the slave's hole.  As soon as that was completed to his
master's satisfaction, he stooped down and began licking up off the floor
his own spent cum, still thick and steaming, before someone slipped on it
or it stained the floor's finish.

     A few minutes later, Bill was sound asleep.  56 went to the adjoining
bathroom, flushed himself out thoroughly by administering three enemas in a
row and then showered, shaved his face and body, rubbed a coating of fresh
oil onto his body, and, finally, put fresh lube up his ass.  Prepared for
the next morning, he retired to a pallet at the foot of his master's bed,
curled into a ball, and fell fast sleep but with one ear cocked for his
master's call at any time.

     If not summoned during the night, 56 knew his master would awake with
a need to alleviate his morning hard-on with a good sucking followed by
help with his morning bathing and, possibly, after that, a good plowing of
the slave's ass. But each morning was a little different.  Perhaps
tomorrow, Master Bill might want a good dollop of fresh hot cum as a
morning tonic.  If so, 56 was ready to deliver the new breakfast item if so
desired.

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

Comments always appreciated.  Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)