Copyright 2015 by the author. For personal use only. Not for distribution.
garystayton@yahoo.com
If you enjoy this or other stories at the Nifty archive, please consider making a donation at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. The archive has provided a vast and unique resource over the years.
Author's note: Thanks to those who have emailed. Comments and suggestions most welcome.
Disclaimer: The story should not be read by minors. If you are under the legal age, do not read any further. If you will be offended by gay bondage porn, read no further.
The characters and events exist in a fantasy setting and are obviously not representative of any realistic narrative.
CAPTURED STUDS of GNOR
***Chapter 5.
This captured stud stood on the auction-block as previously described. For many hours had I presented thus, fixed by chain and yoke. The sweat and oil on my naked body did gleam with a fine polish, and I was admired by many. I endured the touching and handling of my private parts, and the comments made upon the animal for sale. Presently, the auction-master did arrive at my post, and he stood upon a stool and began his selling, and he poketh and proddeth the merchandise with a sharp stick.
"And here, ladies and gentlemen," he did say. "Is the prize stud of the latest shipment from the tribal lands upon the Wild Plains. Look at it, ladies and gentlemen, and regard its fine head. The brow is noble! The eyes are deep-set and burn with fire! Look closely at the high cheeks and the native nose, and the plump, native lips!"
He did use his stick to raise my chin in the yoke, so that the assembled crowd may see, and in the clustered throng I did spy the man called Kerek Kurk, smiling and grinning, and he stood next to another whom I supposed was Captain Jedsire of the harness-farm.
"Observe," the auction-master did continue. "The wide, strong breast. Notice the separated cut of muscle at the plate – the flared bands at the flanks – and how the whole torso narrows to the hips evenly and splendidly! Indeed! This is a fine native adjudged to be of eighteen years or thereabouts – ready for whatever training ye may devise! Some of ye may want a mining-mule, and some of ye may want a dancing twink. Be assured that this buck will fulfil any of these roles! The belly is arranged with long length and uniform pack of muscle as ye can plainly see – and witness! The big cock is erected and uprisen, demonstrating energy and dynamism!"
His stick then tested the tension of my organ, and this did cause an amused mutter from the onlooking crowd, and I did grunt heartily with anger and clank my chain as I pulled against my yoke.
"The rump is a firm tool, ladies and gentlemen! As hard as marble, and exceedingly small!"
This statement was accompanied by a snapping spank upon my rear with the stick, and I did grunt again, sullenly furious at my shame. Many faces were upturned toward me at my place on the block, and I did seek to look away to the distance and not see those eyes which fed upon me.
"Bidders! Valuers of fine stock, appreciate the graceful flow of the thighs, and notice the strength apparent there with sinew and chord! Yes Indeed! These legs will pull most heartily on the harness for speed and strength. This is an ideal example of a swift racer – but with also the muscle for plough-work. So with no further ado, what am I bid..."
Reader, it will be tedious for me to relate the full vocal goings-on of the selling method. Hands were raised and figures were yelled out, and these numbers did grow and grow. Kerek Kurk did participate, Captain Jedsire beside him nodding with approval. Dagger Direcaster did also want me. So did many others, but after some while, it remained only for Kerek Kurk and another man to bid. This other was a great fat man wearing silken robes and a blue sash. So fat was he that he reclined on a special wooden platter with cushions under him and polished rails to keep him from rolling off.
Captain Jedsire did become most agitated as the bidding went higher and higher, and his cruel face did become redder and more sharp in its annoyance. He did curse thus to Kerek Kurk, but the fat-man did continue to raise a stout finger and beat-off competition seeming without regard for the price.
"Sold!" said the auctioneer. "To Justin Kylon Waynor the Second, Chief Bureaucrat of Methane City Ditherscope!"
Gods! I did think. This fat man was the father of Justin Kylon Waynor the Third – the little punk who tormenteth me so!
Subsequently, Captain Jedshire did gnash his teeth with much ire when I was sold to the fat man on the platter, and as my buyer did make arrangements with the auction-yard staff and order his servants about, I did also gnash my teeth at the prospect of my pending ownership.
What could such a man want with this purchase? I knew not, but I did gather that he was a Very Important Personage in Methane City, and could well afford an expensive item for purpose or amusement.
My yoke was lashed with a long rope behind a very elaborate carriage, with glittering geegaws and golden knobs upon it, and again I was drawn running through the streets, carrying the heavy yoke. The carriage had velvet curtains at the rear, and these did part slightly, and I did spy the face of the young Justin Kylon peering out with sheepish eyes, and the fact that I knew nothing of my eventual fate did occur to me again.
The rotund father of the boy did recline up in front on large cushions where I could not see, but his presence became apparent when the carriage rolled into the yard of a smithy's workshop and I was pulled hither, around the enclosure which had hot coal-fires in brick ovens and large leather bellows, and smoke, and the unfamiliar odour of heated iron.
Before the yoke was broken from my neck and tired arms, my feet were tied and I was lain upon a hard anvil. There was loud hammering and sparks about, and much industry, and presently it was my turn to meet the iron.
A heavy hoop was hammered close about my neck, and the ringing clangs did roar in my ear, making me curse. Thus, I was now permanently attached to a strong chain, but this affliction was nothing compared to the next bane of iron which was visited upon me. I was held in leather straps and placed against another, smaller anvil, and I did cry in fear as my testicles felt the cold steel and a hammer was brought.
A foul device was put upon me – again, hammered and shut hard – a small hoop which encircled my scrotum above the nuts. A fashioned, tubular cage was slid upon my schlong, and this was fastened to the nut-band with a hot, hammered rivet. Truly, I did roar most loud in anger and outrage as I realised the restraint of the abominable fixture, for I could no longer erect, and my cock was confined with cruel hurt.
I did wail in abject misery and thrash hard, and as I bellowed my protests and screech in my wretchedness, young Justin Kylon did watch. The red glow of the fire was upon his face. His father did remain atop the carriage and show little interest in the desolate spectacle of a young stud having his manhood beaten shut upon the anvil.
"Sir!" I did bawl at the fat Waynor on the carriage. "I know not your prospects for me, nor the purpose of your purchase, but in the name of your Gods and mine, tell me... tell me when or how or whereby I may be removed from this wicked iron tool which hath been placed upon my manly parts and which preventeth me from my masculine urges!?"
And I did shout my question with much ferocity and strength, but Mr. Waynor the elder did simply turn his face to me and eat a small fruit, his lips suckling on the skin and juice.
"Justin," he did say to his son in a plummy voice. "What sayth the Wild-Plains buck?"
"Father, he asks why the lock hath been fixed."
Waynor the elder deigned to say no more, and concentrated instead on his comforts and morsels, and I did notice with some degree how the manner of the younger Waynor did change in the presence of the elder, and how he did not now carry-on with the insolence for which I had previously known him.
Now chained by the neck, and with my enclosed meat swinging tragically in its malicious prison, I did follow the carriage again, uphill along avenues lined with high dwellings, and presently we did come to a district whereby the finishings were more carefully built and spaced, and fine horses and well-dressed people did go about. And through this air of finery, the naked, sweating, cursing buck was yanked by his neck with clanking chain.
The iron which shuttered my virility did weigh and distress, and when my pitiable male-meat did seek to make its essential requirements known, it did cause an abject discomfort which made me whimper and moan.
The Waynor enclosure was a slatted, walled compound – as were most of the houses in this district, and I was pulled into a yard where I was doused with pails of water to clean my filth, and fed with bread and meat, and my treatment did somewhat surprise me for by now in Methane City I was used to being handled as a wild animal. Nevertheless, a number of strong men did keep hold of my chain and seek to prevent me from running.
I was now a valued possession, and one may suppose that the owner of a stable will look-after his most costly stud well. The men did yank hard on the chain while I fought against them. "Steady! Steady!" they did cry as they strained against the powerful, struggling buck. A long, stiff-bodied, fast-tailed whip was brought, and this was used to help corral me in the yard. Its whistle in the air was bright and sharp, and its sting was most fierce on my buttocks, and now I howled in ferocious anger.
It was a small, strap-iron cage where I was put, and this narrow domicile was heavily bolted to a marble block in the yard. Inside it, I did wail and gnash my teeth, for the steel fixture on my testicles and cock did give me grief, and verily my energetic meat did wish to grow. Young Justin Kylon Waynor the Third did look upon me in my cage and consider the sight of the naked stud purchased by his father.
"Gods!" I did shout as I gripped the bars. "Why am I placed here on this marble slab? Am I to be viewed like an exhibit? Answer me, young punker-boy! This rivet at my cock doth hold me fast and I cannot rise! Why!?"
"Ye are destined for a prestigious show," the boy did say. "My father doth own a circular pit – a wide, sand-floored arena where the seated ladies and gentlemen may look down and see a native stud fight."
"And whom shall I fight?" I did bellow. "For I am primed now to contest any man and win! What is the prize? I am locked hard in steel and shackle and I will seek by any means my freedom!"
"Forsooth," sayth Justin Kylon Waynor the Third. "It doth pain me to say – for I am drawn to the native buck and feel that I like him so – for his pretty features and his smooth skin, and his spirit which is brave and strong. But my father owns a giant serpent which has green scales and great teeth, and this ferocious beast hath eaten four captured bucks already – all pitted against the snake for the enjoyment of my father's cultured guests. He is one of the few men in Methane City who can put on such a show, and these appearances are giddily anticipated amongst the set. I fear much that ye shall be swallowed whole in front of this crowd. The serpent shall surround ye with its scaly body and squeezeth, and slowly put its jaws around and make ye a meal."
"Ha!" I did exclaim, for this news did in some way satisfy. No more would I be held by yoke, cage, or shackle. I would be enabled to fight with my own hands and feet, and be given a say in my eventual destiny. "Give me the snake and let me fight it! If I kill it, I shall demand a measure of redress. And if it doth kill me, then I shall have battled with the dignity with which your wretched people have thus far stripped from me!"
garystayton@yahoo.com