Date: Wed, 5 Nov 2008 20:52:56 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com" <anonymous4371@juno.com>
Subject: THE BAZAAR - Chapter 9 (Gay: Authoritarian)

THE BAZAAR

by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)

Chapter 9

[This chapter ends the first half of this tale.  After this, it takes off
in different directions.  Please let me know what you think of the tale so
far. Thanks. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)]


TWO OF THE MINING SLAVES TELL THEIR TALE

     The next morning, right on schedule, Bill and his borrowed slave 44
watched the Williams Copper Company's mining slaves being marched out to
their work stations with their shackles joining them together raising dust
around their feet and a heavy whip cracking over their head to keep up a
fast pace. Each and every one now sported the company's logo branded into
their right pec nicely balancing their other ownership brand, The Bazaar's,
on their left ass cheek.  Bill's eyes was searching for possible new bed
bucks he could use when the slave's duties in the mine were finished for
the day.  Consequently, he was studying their facial features, their
physiques, and, of course, the equipment between their legs, all clearly
visible since the work slaves were kept body shaved as well as fully naked
at all times.  44 was looking for the slave he had mentioned to Master Bill
who was washed out of the pleasure slave training program all because he
never could master getting an erection on verbal command alone.

     No more than 10 slaves had trouped by before 44 pointed to a very
large and very handsome black slave who was sporting a huge erection
despite all the dust, chains and whip.

     "That's LaBradford," 44 said excitedly.  "The one with the big
erection."

     "LaBradford?" Master Bill asked.

     "That was his name before he was enslaved, master.  That's what they
called him at The Bazaar in that they didn't bother renaming the new stock
in that as soon as they were sold their new masters would name them
anyway."

     "But LaBradford?  Where did they round him up?" Master Bill asked.

     "Oh, Master, he was from America -someplace there called Louisiana as
I recall."

     "He's sure black for an American boy, 44," Master Bill commended
rather dubiously

     "Oh, I remember, he was from New Orleans, Louisiana, master, and he
was proud of it," 44 added.

     "Well, how did he end up on the auction block at The Bazaar?" Master
Bill asked.

     "I don't know, master.  I suppose about like the rest of us, at least
those of us not bred to it, Master Bill."

     Bill jotted down the slave's ID number tattooed in white ink across
his back since he had arrived: M14, so he could look him over more
carefully later.

     By then, the line had progressed considerably further and Bill spotted
another slave that was easy on the eye: a muscular black about 25 or so who
had muscled pecs so big he could have filled a bra, a very thin waist, a
nice rounded bubble butt, a very smooth black hide, and, between his legs,
equipment that put all the other mining slaves to shame: a full 9x6
flaccid, circumcised, and thrust out by two huge balls underneath and close
to the body. His face was not so handsome as it was brutal looking, which
only added to his total masculinity, especially since he had retained a
pencil-line black beard outlining his rugged jaws above his totally shaved
body. His jet black head hair which had been retained, was cut short and
was a blanket of shiny curls.  Without hesitation, Bill jotted down his ID
number: M78.

     As the coffle passed, Bill had the two mining slaves he wanted to look
over as potential bed bucks, but he wondered if they would be any good
without specific training in the area (especially true for M78 who had no
sex training at all outside of that taught to all slaves regardless of
where they were headed).  Or, perhaps, they would be so worn out from
working in the mine they couldn't perform no matter how much you threatened
them with punishments.  But, the latter concern was easily solved.  Relieve
them of their mining duties if they proved to be any good in a man's
bed. Surely that would be a nice reward for good service in and of itself.
But it could be that living a mining slave's life had ruined them for any
service in bed.  Bill knew the mining overseers used them whenever they
wanted for their own relief and that they used each other like rutting pigs
in the pens at nights for whatever relief they could get, but that was a
long way from pleasing a discriminating master used to the very best.
Still, they were good looking animals and worth a try.

     Bill sent 44 back to his real owner, his brother Chad, after having
the slave suck him off one last time, and called the mine manager with
instructions to have M78 and M14 flushed out and washed up after their work
shift and then sent up to his quarters at the company headquarters in that
he wanted to inspect these properties more closely.

     "Keep them shackled?" the manager asked, knowing full well the mine
owner might have some interest in fucking the two mining slaves.  That
didn't surprise him.  Both M78 and M14 were favorites among the overseers
at night along with the mine manager himself who could vouch they took a
good fucking well and were equally good on their knees sucking.  If the
mine owner took them to his bed, they would just have to pick some others
from all the other black slaves at their disposal. There would still be
plenty of handsome well-hung boys out there to satisfy them.

     "Yes, and lube their butt holes after they're cleaned out, but send
the key up, I may want to unshackle them if I like the looks of them."

     "Yes sir, Mr. Williams.  I'll have them delivered up to your suite
around 9 PM after they've had a chance to be fed and get cleaned up.  I
doubt if you'll really need those shackles.  Most draft slaves are thrilled
to death to get to meet their owner personally although, at that hour,
they're generally pretty worn out."

     "I'll take their fatigue into account and, frankly, glad to hear it.
No use having slaves who aren't worked hard."

     "No sir, Mr. Williams.  We work them from sun-up to sundown with a
whip to speed them up if they get laggardly in their duties. That's why
most of the stock have some noticeable whip scars on them, but who's ever
seen a draft slave without whip scars all over them, anyway?"

     "I've read some find those torn up hides part of their appeal," Bill
Williams responded.

     "I'd say that's true, Mr. Williams, for most of us working for you.
But you've got to consider we don't have some smooth skinned pleasure
slaves at our disposal like those better off do," the manager added.

     "Is that a complaint?" Bill Williams shot back.

     "No sir! I like my meat with some marks on them and so do all the
others.  Some of those pleasure slaves, well, we wouldn't know what to do
with them anyway," he laughed.  "Those boys are for the crowd that OWN
slaves, not just whip them into shape.  We're happy with what we've got -
not all employers are as generous with their stock as you are, Mr.
Williams, and we appreciate the privilege.  No complaints out of us - just
thanks for the stock we can use."

     "I'll expect the two at 9 PM up here at my suite," Mr. Williams ended
the conversation.  "If I don't bring them back to the pens myself, pick
them up so they don't miss their breakfast and usual work shift."

     "Yes sir, 9 PM on the dot, Mr. Williams."  *********************

     Exactly at 9 PM, the two mining slaves were delivered to the suite
cleaned up to specifications. Both were spectacular in the human animal
category.  Somehow, even their fresh Williams Copper logo branded into
their right pec only added to their allure.  Bill Williams took one look at
their subservient stance and ordered their shackles removed in that they
would get in the way for using them properly.

     "Y'all wants your slaveboy on his hands and knees so you can study my
whipmarks before you fucks me or on my shiny black back with my legs up,
Massa Williams," M14 cut through any ceremony.  After having his chute
cleaned out thoroughly he knew why he had been delivered to his owner's
suite and saw no reason to delay his master's desires.

     "Are you the slave once called LaBradford?" Master Bill asked.  "The
slave that got kicked out of The Bazaar's pleasure slave training program?

     "Y'sir, Massa, that's me, massa.  Ol' LaBradford now labeled M14,
massa. Can't very well deny it since I wear The Bazaar's brand on my butt
as well as this new ownership brand the mine slaves here have burnt into
them. "

     Bill put out his hand palm side up and M14, knowing exactly what his
master wanted, moved close forward with his pelvis arched forward to make
it easy for his master to heft his balls and massage his prick.  As Bill
Williams weighed' the huge black balls of the former LaBradford with his
right hand, he ordered the handsome narrow-waisted M78 to suck him.  M78,
without hesitation, sunk to his knees, his huge pectorals thrust out
prominently, and bent to his task, his mouth swallowing his master to the
root in one gulp followed by a rather noisy slurping and suctioning process
demonstrating he was well skilled in his area.

     "While I'm playing with you, M14, I want you to tell me about
yourself," Master Bill ordered.

     "Massa, what yo'all want to know about this slaveboy?"

     "Start with where you were born, where you got your crazy name of
LaBradford, what you did until you were enslaved, and why you flunked your
sex slave training at The Bazaar as a starter, M14, while I pump a fresh
load out of you.  I'd like to get a taste of you before I fuck you.  And
you, M78, just keep sucking away until I shoot off or I tell you to stop."

     "Yes, master," M78 mumbled the best he could with his master's prick
well down his mouth.

     M14's prick was rock hard as Master Bill began to pump him, noting
there was a small bowl on the table nearby handy for the slave's discharge
- a bowl kept there for that very purpose.

     "Massa, "M14 began as he thrust his organ further into his master's
hand for Master Bill's convenience in milking him, "I'se born in a small
town in the state of Loo-si-ana in the United States - it's had about 600
people living up there, up in the north of the state, and the town was
all-black and always had been as far as I know, massa.  As I'se grew up,
I'se got big and powerful like I am now, massa, and my manhood grew even
more than the rest of me, massa, as you can see for yourself.  When I'se in
high school, I'se real good in athletics and I'se a big football star on
our local school team, called the Homer Tigers.  In my senior year, I'se
recruited by the coaching staff of the New Orleans Saints and went there
for training as soon as I graduated.  Skipped all that college crap in that
I'se wanted to get paid for playing and they's pays me plenty, massa. That
team was a good three-quarters black boys, Massa, similar to myself, so I's
felt home-like and started having a real good time partying around and
stuff.  Oh, Massa, you sure know how to milk a slaveboy," M14 moaned as he
thrust himself even further into his master's hand.

     "Tell me when you're going to shoot, M14, so I can grab the dish to
collect it in, and, remember, slave, I want a full load out of you, you
hear?"

     "Yes siree, Massa. Well's, massa, I'se had lots of money and down in
New Orleans the other boys on the team got me into trying a little of that
crack cocaine powder they all used when they's playing and using their ho's
and stuff like that, massa. I got into sniffing that white powder like
crazy, massa, and it real expensive.  Pretty soon I owned the dealers lots
and lots of money but I didn't care because I just had to have that white
magic' those dealers called it, and they glad to loan me the money cause
I'se a big professional football player paid lots of money, massa.  But
I'se didn't earn nearly as much as I'se spending, massa, and after a while
the drug boys started pressuring me to pay up.  I'se pay them everything
I'se have - even my Caddie Escalade with chrome wheels went to them, but it
still didn't begin to pay my tab, massa.  So, one night they took the only
thing I had left - my body - and I'se put in chains and shipped on a
private jet clear over to Egypt where they sold me at this place you bought
me at, massa, called The Bazaar. I didn't know being sold off as a slave
was in the cards for me, just 18, but tell that to those drug lords.  My
folks never knew what happened to me - I'se just disappeared one night -
nor did the coaches in New Orleans.  But some of those other players on the
team that were into dope sort of guessed, I think, but were too scared to
say anything - don't blame them in that they owned money too!  I'se bet you
some of them if you go shopping at the Bazaar sometime soon, massa.
Wouldn't be surprised at all," M14 said as he started rocking his body back
and forth so make it easier for his master to milk him. "I'se churning up a
big load for you, massa," he smiled as he started panting a little.

     M78 had taken Master Bill's prick all the way down his throat and was
busy working his throat muscles around the fully inserted organ within
him. Only an occasional grunt and a little gagging was heard from time to
time as he concentrated on his master's wishes.

     "78, you make sure you swallow every drop when I shoot off," Master
Bill commanded as he took his free hand and gently ran it through the
slave's close-cropped hair. There was no need to press his face further
down on his organ- the slave's mouth was down to the very base of his root
with his nose buried in his pubic hair as it was.

     "Go on with your story, M14, you haven't told me how you got that
crazy name of LaBradford or flunking out of the sex slave training at The
Bazaar."

     "Y'sir, massa.  My momma, she named me LaBradford after a black
basketball star she admired in the college circuit.  Never did know my
daddy.  My momma, she basically a whore, massa, and never did know which of
her customers had seeded me in her.  She always said it must have been a
big ol' prick, but she never able to narrow it down, massa, in that she got
fucked by a lot of big dicks in her day.  I her only offspring because she
got her tubes tied after that - a whore can't make no money when they's
pregnant, massa. Me, I always fancied my name, massa, but of course,
slaveboys generally renamed after they's sold.  M14 suits me fine, massa,
if that's what I'se to be called now.  Massa, can I ask you a question?"

     "Just this once, boy," Master Bill responded.  "What do you want to
know?"

     "That M in all we slaveboys' names.  Does it mean we's all mining
slaves?"

     "Yes indeed, M14," Master Bill responded.

     "I'se figured it out, massa, when yours and Master Chad's sex slaves
all called P something or other and I'se knows you bought them to pleasure
you when you wanted, massa." M14 said proudly.  "Won't be too long till
I'se going to shoot, massa.  Shall I get the dish ready?

     "Get that dish in your hand, slaveboy, and don't you spill a drop,"
Master Bill ordered as he continued his steady stroking of the slave's now
pulsating organ.

     "While I'se being trained to be a pleasure slave at The Bazaar, Massa,
I'se learned it all real solid like and could do everything they wanted
with a little encouragement from the whips now and then.  But everytime
I'se got fucked up the ass by the trainers or the other boys being trained,
I'se just couldn't keep it hard and dripping like my trainers wanted,
despite a lot of whip on my behind and some slaveboys sucking me off
while's I'se being fucked.  But no matter how hard I'se tried, I'se just
never could for some reason.  Even being sucked at the same time, I'se no
how could keep it hard, let alone shoot off like they wanted.  But you can
see, massa, I'se don't have no trouble getting and keeping hard and you're
going to see I'se can deliver a nice big load for you, massa.  I don't
know, massa.  You think it because I'se raped over and over by the coaches
once I signed my pro contract and I resented it, massa, because they never
told me when I signed up being fucked by them every damn day was part of
the deal?"

     "Don't ask me, M14.  Being fucked as a slave is entirely different
than being fucked, raped or not, by some coaches as a free man.  A slave's
ass is property, M14, and is there for the taking.  A slave should be
excited his ass can bring pleasure to his betters and he should show his
happiness at getting proper use by sporting a nice big one and shooting off
during the mounting.  They were right to flunk you right out and move you
over for training as a draft slave where at least you learned to suck and
take a good fucking properly whether or not your body showed its
appreciation.  When the overseers fuck you, you still not getting hard or
shooting off?"

     "No, massa, although they fuck us slaveboys every chance they get down
in the mines."

     "Well, what about in the pens at night where you draft slaves fuck
each other like the animals you are?"

     "No, massa," M14 looked ashamed.  "But I'se don't have any trouble
getting hard and shooting off fucking them, massa."

     "Well, tell me this, M14?  You resent those overseers and other slaves
fucking you every chance they get?"

     "No, massa.  If I'se an overseer with all that meat handy, I'd fuck
the living daylights out of those in the work gang under me.  And slaves
always fuck each other when they're penned together - every slave does that
- especially when it's that or nothing, massa," M14 chuckled.

     "Well, M14, maybe you're just hung up on men fucking you instead of
you fucking the ho's you were used to fucking back in your school days?"

     "I'se got used to being fucked by men a long time, ago, massa.  My
high school team used to fuck around when no women were handy and once I
went pro, massa, they all used to fuck each other as much as they fucked
the groupies always hanging around the locker rooms wanting to be fucked by
a big-name football player. No need to pay the ho's when your in the pro's,
massa, there's always all those gals hanging around the dressing rooms just
waiting for you to fuck em any place, any time you want, and all for free,
massa."

     "Well, when you can buy slaves like you, there's no need for whores
either, male or female.  Slaves are there for the taking, M14."

     "Y'sir, massa.  A few of those professional football players that
invested their money proper- like could save up and buy a slave to dump
into - female or male - whatever they wanted.  I'se at a party once with a
guy who had a nice looking male pleasure slave he had owned for a few years
and he shared that white boy with all of us before the night was over.
Mighty good, it was, massa."

     "Well, you started snorting coke and now you're the slave for the
taking," Master Bill laughed.

     "Y'sir, massa," M14 gasped as he quickly reached for the nearby dish
and, with a huge moan, filled it with six separate spurts of thick,
steaming cream. As ordered, he didn't spill a single drop in emptying his
balls for his owner.

     Simultaneously Master Bill unloaded into M78's throat, which the slave
took directly into his stomach while working his throat muscles to insure
his master was milked of the last drop and then promptly cleaned off his
master's prick of any residue as he had been carefully trained.

     Master Bill then took the dish and tentatively took a small sip.  "A
little strong, but tasty nevertheless and nice and thick," he complimented
the huge black slave it had been extracted from.  With that, he tipped it
and slowly drank down the entire contents, savoring it carefully as he
drank down the entire contents.

     "I'm a little pooped for now," Master Bill addressed both slaves. "And
I suppose M14 needs a while to recharge, so while we're waiting, I want
you, M78, to fuck M14 harder than you've ever fucked anything before -
slave, freeman, dog, or horse.  You hear, M78?"

     "Yes, master,"M78 replied promptly as he bent M14 over and positioned
M14's ass to that Master Bill could easily witness all aspects of the
commanded fucking.

     Master Bill was pleased that M78 prick was in the phenomenal category
even flaccid as he had seen this morning.  Now, fully hard, it met its
promise and Bill remembered the applause and whistles buyers had given the
boy when his body was shown fully hard and dripping on the auction block.

     Without delay, M78's prick slid up M14's chute with a lot of moaning,
groaning, and twisting around in order to accommodate such a huge organ
well up inside him. Sure enough, M14 lost his erection shortly after the
pounding into his ass presumed. But, Master Bill thought, who gave a damn?
Certainly M78 didn't mind and seemed to enjoy M14's groaning and jerking
around as much as Master Bill did.  It was a splendid show and could go on
all night if he so wished. Bill seemed to especially enjoy the fact both
slaves performing had smooth, shiny jet-black and now sweaty hides, both
were superbly muscled, and both were real stallions in both physique as
well as manly equipment.  How good it was to actually own these bodies that
you could do anything with you wanted.

     "Now that you're all the way in, M78, go slow and easy.  I want you to
start telling me all about yourself while I'm allowing you to enjoy my
other property's body."

     "Yes, master," M78 said, panting and gasping a little in his efforts.

     "I'm not as interesting as M14, master, I'm afraid.  I was made to
order at the Acme Breeding Farm located in Southern Italy.  They produce
all colors and sizes for the market, master, but a lot of the production is
devoted to black studs like myself. They selectively breed us, master, so
that explains my nice physique and muscular build as well as my bubble butt
and narrow waist.  Those types of slaves are their speciality, master,
along with, of course, being hung like a horse which always sells well no
matter what we are bought to do, master."  M78's pumping of his huge shaft
all the way up M14's ass never faltered as he explained his history.

     "When I was full grown, that year's crop was shipped down to The
Bazaar by airfreight in that Acme Breeding had an exclusive contract with
The Bazaar. The inspectors there decided I was too brutal looking and just
too masculine to sell well as a pleasure slave despite my other good
features, so they put me into final training as a draft slave who would be
as good to fuck as to work hard. When you bought me in that big lot, I was
hoping I would catch my owner's eye someday and, master, here I am.  I hope
you find me satisfactory in servicing you, master.  I was sort of hoping I
would be sold off as a pleasure slave, but, of course, slaves have no
choice in that sort of thing.  I'm happy to serve you anyway I can, master,
and I'm working as hard as I can down in the mines, master, so you can get
your money's worth out of your property, master."

     "I'll check with the overseers and see how you're working out in terms
of productivity and how much of the whip it takes to keep you focused on
your tasks, M78.  But you keep fucking like that and taking into account
what a good sucker you are, I'll think about having you up here in the
suite again sometime, especially if it turns out you can take a good
fucking as well as give one.  We'll find that out before morning when I'm
fully recharged."

     M78's face broke into a huge smile.  "You'll love to fuck this black
slave, master, I guarantee it."

     "Pretty boastful, aren't you, for a slave?" Master Bill was somewhat
taken aback.

     "You ask the overseers, master.  They all say I got one of the best
asses for fucking they've seen in a long time."

     "Well, they ought to know, M78.  God knows they're fucking the slaves
as much as they're wielding the whips."

     By the next morning, M78's boast was proven true as far as Master Bill
could determine.  M14 was fucked again by his master, and had his sucking
skills put to work on both his master and M78 before the night was over.
When the overseer came to retrieve the two slaves for their work coffle,
Master Bill had already scheduled their use in a couple of nights, just to
make sure they were as good on a second round as they were on the first.

     Meanwhile, he had his own pleasure slave to keep him happy.  But, as
far as he was concerned, his own pleasure slave had to prove he was better
than M14 and M78 if he wasn't going to get his ass put up for sale to some
Aussies he knew who would pay plenty for a nice looking, well hung pleasure
slave already fully trained. There wasn't any reason at all he shouldn't
make a big profit on his purchase from The Bazaar - after all he had gone
all the way to Alexandria, Egypt, to get him, and once gone, he could get
double duty out of M14 and M78 who could work all day in the mines and
service him at night.

     Within two weeks, Bill Williams had tentatively sold his blond
pleasure slave, P56, over the internet to a man north of Perth who promised
to pay him triple for what he had paid for the slave.  Turned out the man
was crazy about blond meat, and white slaves, especially those trained for
the bed, were still relatively scarce in Australia.

     It might be worth a trip back to Egypt just to buy up a bunch of white
boys fully trained to provide pleasure for their owners and bring them back
for a quick resale in some of Australia's larger cities.  It would be a
nice and very profitable second occupation as well as an interesting hobby.

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