Copyright 2015 by the author
garystayton@yahoo.com
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Disclaimer; the story should not be read by minors or anyone not prepared for trashy gay bondage porn. The characters and events exist only in a fantasy setting and are obviously not representative of any realistic narrative.
CAPTURED STUDS of GNOR
Chapter 3.
The preparatory stockade for auction merchandise was a business affair, and as such, we did begin to learn the economy of Methane City. These people did not exchange meat or fruit or nuts directly, but engaged in abstract tenders. They loved gold and silver, and the value of a live young stud captured from the Wild Plains was represented in a number of pressed coins. The other currency was efficiency, and we must be trained for the block very quickly.
"Ye fuckers are whip-striped and fresh from the plains, and for this I must keep you and house you and feed you until your welts are gone and ye may stand proudly and unblemished on the block for the buyers."
These words were said to us by the man whose employ it was to be an agent, and he did conduct his stockade most competently, for merchandise did come and go, and the longer it stayed in the yard the longer the bosses did gnash their teeth.
Reader, ye have come across many strange terms. Money,' economy,' efficiency,' and trade.' These are things not known on the Wild Plains where we lived in health in harmony. A pig is hung for the tribal feast, to be roasted that night and devoured by many hungry mouths, but none would consider the pig to be a person, and wives and husbands would laugh at the idea that the fat and meat were worth the same as a sliver of metal.
"Ye are stinking and disobedient savages," the man did say. "And my trading-yard accountant doth tell me to dispose quickly, but I can see that this shipment of nine bucks is a wealthy one. Ye will be kept until ye are fully ready for the block. That will be five days. At the end, the one of you who is leastly inclined to make money for me and my clients will be gelded and sold to the slut-house dealers."
We did goggle our eyes and stem out mutters whilst standing in our yokes in the yard. A gelding was not amongst the things we knew about, and when it was told to us what it was we did jump and yelp most fervently.
"This will make you diligent and earnest for the block," said the dealer. "Heal thy welts and present as fine, obedient studs, and the least amongst you will be separated from his balls and live as a dancing, singing harlot-whore in the night-club district."
We did not know what a dancing, singing harlot-whore might achieve in the night-club district, but I did feel in the pit of my belly that I should not find out, and this was especially the case since it involved an operation with a curved knife and a man's balls. One of us, it would seem, were to be cut from his man-parts and sent dancing and singing. This prospect did color our view over the next five days.
Our yokes did stay upon us, enclosing our necks and wrists, for we were big, strong younkers and none of the compound-staff did want to see us uncaged and wildly free. They did feed us on bread and cabbages – thrown over the bamboo fence for us to gnaw upon in our animal state. And we were taught that we must not exhibit the natural behaviours of our tribal history. We stood still in our yokes for many hours, our cocks reaching to our bellies and showing their youthful talents.
"Keep those cranks up and keep those buttocks clenched," the dealer did order us. "Ye rumps must be tight and hard for the feel. I want you to bruise the knuckle of the man who fingers your hole!"
We submitted to these instructions in the bamboo-cage yard, for punishment was lavishly given us. The men of our raiding-party and their agents did want us to appear on the auction-blocks in a very obedient manner, and we were to be broken hard so that our humanity and rambunctious nature were removed from us, and since whip-strokes were not what a buyer would want to see on his oiled slab of displayed buck-meat, the chastisements of the stockade were both imaginative and cruel.
I was ball-hung in much the same way as Byeeror had been on the road outside the city, and this was done to me for the crime of struggling most strongly against the wishes of the compound-staff, for a proud Wild-Plains stud cannot submit to the yoke and command of such sickly Methane City men without pulling most hard against his tethers. I did charge powerfully at the bamboo poles in my horrid neck-yoke, demented by frustration at the wooden fixture which continued to contain me, and this was a very unwise thing to do, for no captured native did deign to escape his bonds.
The rope was knotted and wrapped and twisted tightly at my balls and meat, and then the pulley did creak as the strain was taken by four men who lifted the yelling buck. Thusly did I hang, upside-down in my hand-neck yoke and with my legs aloft and free to balance the sweaty, beefy pendulum. I did quickly discover that I must remain still, and suspend from my man-parts in a most pacified state, for any wriggle or shift on my part did cause hurtful movement in the rope-pulley. It is a strange thing indeed to employ all of one's concentration upon staying perfectly tranquil in the ball-hoist, for we are used to the vibrancy of hunting and the senses engaged therein. I did sweat in the yard fully occupied by the weight carried on my snarled organ, and my mind did give over to only one thing – how I might balance or adjust the load from moment to moment.
Within one minute of the pulley-block's groan I did desist my curses, knowing that my mental powers were fully required to regulate the dreadful swing. Within five minutes I was a ragged-grunting side of suspended beef in a blind swelter. I hung thusly for eight hours, each gentle push of the breeze making a new challenge under the winch, and the straining rope affording me an inverted panorama of the bamboo-enclosed yard.
"Yendor!" my companions did call to me from a bamboo tiger-cage in the yard. "We are all most fearful that one of us will have his balls and cock chopped-off by these vicious savages of Methane City, and at this current juncture it may appear that it is you who is least in need of these male appendages!"
"Fellows!" I did cry. "My balls hurteth most grievously, but I am in no manner of mind to lose them. Even stretched and weighted, my manhood doth stay dear to me, and I have no wish to lose my nuts which now are pulleyed and lifted to obscene heights. Let these brutes torture me thus and I will maintain the dignity of the tribe, but if they come cutting with knife and flint, I will resist most strongly!"
Hence, the conversation among us did lead to little enlightenment, for we all had not very much to say. And then, a most surprising person did enter the yard and approach to look at me, and this was the fourteen year-old punk who the reader will remember as the brat who played so heinously with Dyeeror's balls when they were entwined on a tree outside the city gates.
"Gods!" I did utter. "How and why the fuck did thee get in here and see me thus!? Hath not your wretched civilisation a fascination with dangling men by their balls? Here am I – a sturdy and noble buck – swaying on a nut-hoist before a worthless city punk-boy!"
"Forsooth," sayeth the lad. "For I did find the men of the raiding party in Wenk's Cider and Beer Tavern, and I did reacquaint myself with these jolly chaps, and we did laugh at the way we made fun the other day outside the city, and the fellows did declare to me that I was a very fine and clever boy. Gazooks! What a capital bunch they are! And they are most joyful at the prospect of having ye nine studs on the blocks and the money they will make. So they told me you were here and sent me to tell thee that they are drinking most heartily on forward credit and that ye nine studs must ensure a good price."
"Furthermore," he did say – and at this point his voice did cause me some grinding of teeth, for it was bubbling with infuriating excitement. "Furthermore," the little cocksnap continued. "I did bring with me a grouping of my little friends, and we did ride down here from Wenk's Cider and Beer Tavern on our wheeled skating-boards! And Gazooks! Here we find a big, handsome cut of native buck hoisted on a nut-derrick! Aaryn, Darynn, Barynn, and Larynn! Did I not tell thee that we would see a fine sight here at the prep-stockade? Observe! The Wild-Plain natives are in the custom of gross nudity! And their uncivilised ways make for an educational zoo!"
"Boy!" I did shout in anger from my inverted position in the man-sling. "Thine hair is a stupid whiff suited to a girl! And thine clothes are an ill-matched assortment of badly-fitted bags! And thine general appearance is of a useless lout! Tell me thy name so that I may know who to chase and beat when I am lowered from my rope!"
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" the boys did giggle. "We are being called names by a suspended native buck destined for the blocks! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"My name is Justin Kylon Wayner the Third," said the boy. "And my father is the Chief Executive of the Methane City Planning and Ditherscope Authority."
At this, the biggest man of the compound did come out and gut-punch me hard. The boys gasped. I did roar most fervently at the pummel of this man's fists as he swung me on my cock-tackle with knuckle and punch.
"Fucker thy deign to corrupt these small boys and make them annoy us!" the big man did cry in deep voice as he pounded me, and I did make a number of curses at him as I veered on my cock-rope.
"Forsooth!" sayeth the boys in some manner of agitation. "Do not beat him thus!" And these lads made squeaking entreaties that the ball-hung native buck may be spared his thrashing. How surprising it was to hear Justin Kylon Wayner the Third piping in emotional terms that I should keep my teeth and not have them knocked out!
Reader, it came to pass that this ball-hung stud did endure his eight hours on the swing, and hung in all manner of manliness. I did dangle from my strapped balls and make little complaint, even though I be taunted by a bunch of Methane City street-punks, and even beaten most hard. Strapper for the hanging; ye must tie a man's ball's for even distribution of weight across the sack of both nuts and the base of the scrotum (for this skin will be stretched most fearfully). The man will thank thee as he hangs, and praise thy skill in fastening his balls with care, for his every effort is fully focussed on where your rope doth pulleth and hold, and his weight doth carry him swinging by his precious parts.
We did sleep on our feet, packed into a bamboo box where we did fucketh each other very hard. Water was tipped upon us when the Sun did intensify the stench of our piss and shit. Our nailed, wooden yokes did frustrate us greatly, and make us argue verily with our overseers who stood outside the close, shit-stinking box which lay well in the hot sun.
And we did tell our captors that we wished for the auction-block and to be sold-out of this foul carton made of bamboo struts, which creaked and groaned and held nine naked studs most crammed in their filth. For three more days we did stay in the cage, and then we were prepped for the Methane City Markets. However, prior to these ceremonies, one of us was chosen for selling to the whore-houses as a gelded dancer.
garystayton@yahoo.com