Duped Chapter 14: "The Inspection Yard"
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years
Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): September, 2013 Read my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/neo/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories
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Chapter 13: The Inspection Yard
Matthew:
It has been a long, trying morning not just for me but also for my brother slaves. We'd engendered much interest among the buyers and we have been sorely used - and abused - by them.
Our naked bodies had proved a powerful magnet to the buyers and their inspections were ongoing and without respite. Indeed, so great was this interest that the buyers waited impatiently in queues for their turn to inspect us.
Miguel and I had aroused much interest and we'd been subjected to close scrutiny where no parts of our bodies were left untouched. My biceps were rounded balls of hard muscle from the constant flexing and my legs ached from the countless leg squats I'd been commanded to perform to demonstrate the strength and power of my limbs.
My chest and abdomen are still tender from the constant pounding they'd received at the hands of the enthusiastic buyers eager to test their hardness and my sensitive nipples hurt from the non-stop tweaking, twisting, pulling and pinching they'd received.
But these paled into insignificance when compared to the "special" attention paid to the most intimate parts of our anatomies - our genitals and our asses.
It goes without saying that a slave isn't entitled to feel either embarrassment or loss of dignity when he is under close quarter inspection by a free man interested in buying him. Nevertheless, I did feel humiliated by the things done so openly to me and yet, at the same time, I found them erotically arousing and even enjoyable. I know it's a contradiction in terms that I found pleasure in my degradation and no doubt this was my "slave nature" coming to the fore.
During the morning, many eager hands stroked my cock to willing erection or stretched my scrotum away from my body so that my balls hung low and were outlined through the silky smooth skin of their sac. I lost count of how many times I was ordered to "turn, bend and spread" and present my ass to a potential bidder. I listened dispassionately to the many comments and discussions that took place between the buyers waiting their turn to step up and examine me. I listened as they commented about my low hangers or the nervous puckering of my sphincter. And I heard myself being described as a potentially "great fuck".
This was put to the test numerous times as an exploratory finger violated my ass. My ass is still tender from the many fingers that enthusiastically probed its depths throughout the morning.
Obviously, some buyers did see Miguel and me as a complementary, matched pair and several times we were ordered to stand back to back with our asses touching as our physiques were compared one against the other. Some buyers took this further and, at different times, either Miguel or I was ordered to kneel in front of the other and to give a practical demonstration in the use of our mouths to sexually arouse and pleasure a potential master.
The final part of all these inspections was an examination of my mouth and teeth. Some buyers would slap the side of my face and order me to "open wide". Others never spoke and simply pinched my nostrils to force me to breathe through my mouth. But in both cases I was aware that the finger running over my teeth or tugging at my tongue had most probably been used to test the soundness and tightness of my ass just moments beforehand. For me, that was the most degrading part of all my inspections.
I was inspected by a variety of potential buyers including Arabs, Africans, Asians and Caucasians. One buyer who showed great interest in Miguel and me was an African-American businessman who spoke with a distinctive New York accent. I remember wondering about this and how it was possible for him to buy and keep slaves. After all, slavery is illegal in his country! But then I recalled this is also true of the UK and yet this didn't prevent my Master Anwar from keeping Sven as his slave. I suppose in the secretive world of slavery all things are possible.
After Ahmedu Hadi and his son Abdel had inspected me, I waited fearfully for the arrival of Prince Omar. I was sure that he'd want to inspect me one last time before I mounted the auction block. Therefore, when he didn't show, I was relieved and thought perhaps he'd lost interest in me. I sincerely hoped this was so. I wasn't aware that royal protocol prevents the prince from inspecting slaves in public - all his inspections must be conducted in private and away from the eyes of others - and that he had an agent who acted on his behalf on sale days.
I was inspected by several Arabs dressed in traditional garb but one stood out from the rest. Tall and slender, with the blackest of beards and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to bore into my inner being, he treated me with the utmost disdain. I was unaware that he was Prince Omar's agent and that the prince hadn't lost interest in buying me. Indeed, he'd often thought about me since his inspection of me and he'd salivated at the thought of strapping me to his paddling bench while my ass was unmercifully beaten with one of his ornate, wooden paddles in preparation for my raping by the brutish Gansu.
Mercifully, I was unaware of Prince Omar's ongoing interest in me and it really was a case of "ignorance being bliss".
I was so pre-occupied with my own inspections that I gave no thought to my fellow slaves apart from wondering at one stage how Finbar was coping. Fin is lot 21 and he will mount the auction block well after I am sold. Anxiously, I worry that we will be sold to different masters and separated. We'd only known each other for several days and yet I'd felt an immediate affinity with him and I hope with all my heart that Ahmedu Hadi will buy both of us to serve him and his son as their slaves.
For the most part the inspections went without too much drama. Some slaves - like Miguel - are old hands who'd been sold before at previous auctions and know what to expect. These slaves are reconciled to their fates and knowing they have no control over who buys them, they try hard to ingratiate themselves with any potential buyer who appeals to them as a likely new master.
Mostly, the new slaves are too traumatized by the events that have delivered them into slavery or too cowered by the whips and canes of the overseers to cause trouble and they simply acquiesce and submit to whatever happens to them. They stand docilely like the scared animals they'd become and allow the buyers a free hand in their examinations of them. There was however, one disturbance that excited some interest and amusement among the buyers.
A new slave, overwhelmed by all that was happening to him, began to protest vocally. Like the buyers my curiosity was aroused and I looked to see who was causing the commotion. It was a young slave, a teenager who was being inspected for a second time by the young African, Abdel Hadi under the indulgent gaze of his father, Ahmedu.
As I watched, the young slave, who had earlier attracted the attention of Abdel, had foolishly refused to obey the order to "turn, bend and spread" given to him and he had sullenly stood his ground. The teenaged African, who is of a similar age to the slave, had reacted angrily to this show of defiance and soundly slapped the slave's face. The slave's hot temper got the better of his judgement and he'd instinctively lunged forward at Abdel. Fortunately, the length of the chain securing him to the podium prevented him from making contact. I have no doubt of the dire consequences awaiting the slave had he made contact with the young free man.
The fiery exchange soon attracted the attention of two of the prowling overseers who moved swiftly to restore order. The stripling was quickly shown no acts of defiance from a slave will be tolerated as the overseers used their canes to beat him into submission. As the canes cut into his unprotected nakedness, the slave screamed in outraged pain. The savage onslaught soon had him begging for mercy and in a vain attempt to escape his cruel punishment, he fell to the floor and curled up into the foetal position. Soon he was sobbing and crying out to his parents to come and rescue him and take him home.
Inevitably, he capitulated and quickly scrambled to his feet and "bent and spread" when ordered to do so for a second time.
I watched appalled by this treatment of the inexperienced, new slave and I was overwhelmed with sympathy for him. For the first time I saw the totality of absolute chattel slavery and the barbarity of it. All my romantic notions of being an owned slave quickly dissipated as the overseers' canes rained down on the hapless slave writhing on the platform at the feet of Ahmedu Hadi and his son. The slave's cries of anguish attracted the attention of other buyers who stood and mirthfully watched his punishment. Evidently, they enjoyed his suffering; several laughed outright at his predicament and one grey-haired buyer gloatingly said.
"Serves the young pup right! Put the cane to his ass and teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry!"
And as I watched, I realized the awful predicament that confronted me. As the scales fell from my eyes, I understood what it was to be a slave in every sense of the word. I was no longer under any mistaken allusions that my slavery was to be benign. The brutal chastisement of the slave left me with no doubts about the true nature of slavery. He'd been taught that a slave must give unquestioning obedience to every order issued to him immediately and without any outward signs of defiance or resentment. The lesson wasn't lost on me either and I saw Abdel in a new light. Despite his youth, I recognized him as a hard and uncompromising master capable of handling any slave under his control. Should his father buy me, then I knew that I would treat him with fearful respect and all due deference despite his youth.
The harsh treatment of the young slave has a salutary effect on me. Today, in the inspection-yard, I have witnessed the absolute nature of slavery in all its inhumanity and ugliness. Foolishly, I'd craved slavery of the erotic type; instead I'd been delivered into a brutal slavery unlike any I'd ever imagined. I am paying a high price for my naivety and suddenly, I am very afraid; in fact, I am ass puckering scared!
Too late, I now crave to be free and to return to my old life. But the die is cast and there's to be no turning back.
Late morning and the frenetic activity has lessened as the prospective buyers finish their inspections of the displayed livestock. They gather in small groups to renew acquaintanceships or to discuss the quality of the slaves on offer. Of course, they are careful not to disclose which slaves interest them or how they'll bid at auction. Friendships don't extend that far among them. It's very much a case of "every buyer for himself".
Malik returns to the yard briefly and confers with his overseers who report there'd only been one unfortunate incident and that it had been caused by the stripling slave "acting up" and refusing to cooperate with a prospective buyer.
Malik is furious at this act of insubordination which caused him loss of face before his esteemed clients. It is an act that he takes personally and he hastens to inspect the young slave to see that no major damage has been done to him which would detract from his sale. He examines the slave and runs his hands over the prominent, red welts on his back and ass. He loudly berates the hapless slave and as he does so his anger increases. Terrified, the slave cringes before the onslaught and is unprepared for Malik's savage cuff to his head which causes him to lose balance and he is knocked to the floor. Malik further assuages his anger by using a slipper shod foot to kick the slave's ass as he orders him back on to his feet. Hastily, the chastened slave scrambles to his feet and assumes the modified display position with his head bowed. Overwhelmed by all that has happened to him, the teenaged slave's body is convulsed by his silent sobs while wet tears stain his handsome face.
Mollified by the slave's contriteness, Malik claps his claps and calls for silence as he graciously invites the buyers to enjoy the hospitality of the "House of Malik" at a sumptuous luncheon laid out for them in his private quarters to be served to them by his household slaves.
Malik's invitation is answered by a polite round of applause. They turn their backs to the slaves - leaving them to rest - and follow Malik out of the inspection yard into his private quarters. They will return in an hour's time to take up their places on the tiered seats before the auction-block.
Matthew:
With just over an hour before the first slave is scheduled to step up on to the auction-block, the overseers allow us a brief respite to recover from the morning's ordeal. The overseers - old hands at managing slaves - will allow time for our trembling bodies and fraught nerves to settle before they begin moving us into the adjacent sale-yard and auction ring.
For me, the ordeal of the inspections is over and I can only wonder at what horrors await me on the other side of the grim, high walls of the sale-yard. I am full of fearful uncertainty.
While I am new to all this, the old hands - those like Miguel and Finbar - who have been sold before know what to do and what the buyers expect of them. When such a slave steps up on to the block, he does so in the hope of attracting a good master; he'll preen with the vanity of a peacock and seductively pose his naked body in ways that will arouse the lust and whet the lascivious appetites of the buyers. The slave will attempt to arouse the buyers' interest in him by deeply inhaling and exhaling to exaggerate the size of his chest, by tightening his belly to display his ripped abdominal muscles and by flexing his biceps into rounded balls of hard muscle. Finally, he'll raise his arms above his head and stretch his nude body to better display his musculature for their consideration. And of course, it goes without saying that his cock will be massively aroused to demonstrate the power and strength of its erection.
When ordered by the auctioneer to turn and present his back to the buyers, the experienced slave will work the muscles of his back and shoulders and alternatively tighten and untighten his ass-cheeks in an erotic display that he hopes will titillate and further inflame the passions of a buyer.
The slave will do this in the hope that he'll be bought for the silken sheets of the bedchamber rather than the quarry or the broad acre farm.
I know this is so because I heard Finbar and Mustapha's waiters discussing their intentions to adopt these same tactics to attract the best master possible. And they'd advised me to do likewise.
But for the "first time sold" slave - like me - it is very different. And Fin had warned me of what awaits me when I climb up on to the auction block. Nervous and apprehensive, I'll stumble up on to the auction block and stand in a trance like state unsure of what to do next. However, the auctioneer's helpers will instruct me in what I must do and encourage me with their canes and quirts. My uncertainty will provide some comic relief for the buyers who'll laugh and jeer at my awkwardness as I am put through my paces and made to display my naked body for their predilection. And good-humouredly, they'll shout out their ribald comments and lewd requests for me to fully exhibit my body.
But there's one thing that the old hand and the new slave share in common. Once a slave mounts the auction block, as he waits to be sold to the highest bidder, his time on the block is short and his moment of solitary fame is brief. But for those few minutes he is the centre of attention and the reason why the buyers have gathered here; he is the "raison d'ˆtre" and all eyes are focused on him and watching as the auctioneer extols his many desirable features.
The buyers are unaffected by the slave's humiliation and degradation. By their attitudes and actions they deny the slave his humanity. They have come to buy a pleasure slave or a beast-of-burden and not another human being.
Once the slave has displayed his body to the satisfaction of the buyers, the auctioneer will invite them to bid for his body. The slave will then stand docilely on the auction block with his head bowed in humble submission and listen to the auctioneer's staccato acceptance of the buyers' frenzied shouting as they vie to outbid one another.
Finally, the nervous slave will hear the shouted, fateful word - "SOLD!" - coupled with the loud clap of the auctioneer's gavel and realize that he is now owned property and has a new master.
These are the thoughts that race through my mind as we wait for the overseers' next move.
Once we have regained our composure, the overseers move quickly to move us to the selling area. There are forty-five minutes before the auction begins and there's much to be done. Efficiently, the overseers divide us into small groups of ten, placing us into the numerical lot order of our sale, and attach a coffle chain to our neck collars. Once we are secured, our ankle chains are unshackled freeing us from the viewing podium and we are given the command to "walk on!"
Driven on by the canes and light whips of the overseers, we shuffle over the smooth, uneven cobblestones towards a heavy, wooden door set in a high, stone wall. I am in the second grouping and we are held back while the first group disappears through the doorway which is then closed to our view. We aren't able to see what is happening to the first group but the sounds of swishing canes and cracking whips striking bare flesh is unmistakeable. And these are answered by the slaves' yelps and squeals of pain.
Soon the door is thrown open and we are driven through into a long, narrow enclosure which is just wide enough for one slave and is obviously designed to accommodate us in single file one behind the other. There is only one way to go and that is forward. The race is enclosed on both sides and overhead by strong, iron bars to prevent us from escaping and it has a bolted gate at the opposite end to the door we entered through. All too soon, we'll learn this gate opens onto the steep stone steps leading up to the auction platform.
Impatiently, the saleyard handlers use the ends of their canes to urge us forward and a sudden, sharp prod in the ass ensures that we do as they demand. Even when we are jammed together and our bodies touch, they continue to poke our asses until we can no longer move forward and the front of my body is pressed hard up against the back of the slave in front of me. And that slave is Miguel.
The design of the saleyard and auction platform could be described as archaic and certainly there is a medieval feel to it. However, as it has stood the test of time, Malik - ever the traditionalist - sees no reason to change that which has served him and his family so well over the years. He prides himself that he is keeping alive the old traditions that some of his brasher competitors have disdainfully abandoned. They have opted for modern slave emporiums where the display-rooms and sales area are all cheap gilt and glitter and more akin to a used auto dealership.
The House of Malik retains its old world charm where its esteemed clients can both appreciate and enjoy the ambience of a genuine slave market exactly as it has operated during past centuries. Here, briefly, they can immerse themselves in the world of slavery as it used to be; a place where nude slaves are exhibited and sold as just another form of livestock. They love the mellowed stone walls, the worn cobblestones of its courtyards and the seasoned timbers and the stout, iron bars of the holding pens. The timbers have been stained black by the sweat of the many pitiful slaves held captive within the pens while, the bars which imprisoned them, have been worn smooth by the grip of their trembling hands as they gazed wistfully out on to a free world forever lost to them.
And there is something else that permeates the House of Malik and arouses the erotic senses. It is the intangible but instantly recognizable "animal smell" of so many naked slaves kept in close confinement. Slaves have their own primal perfume; a potpourri of male musk, fear-induced sweat and other bodily odours. It is as pervasive as the smell of any other livestock and as individually distinctive as that of cattle, sheep or horses.
The House of Malik can and does overloads the senses!
The overseers continue to prod us forward and I yelp as the sharp end of a cane pokes at my ass. Acting on my reflexes, I move forward until my body is jammed hard up against Miguel's and my cock nestles comfortably in his ass-crack. Simultaneously, the slave immediately behind me does likewise and I shiver as the head of his cock buries itself between my own ass-cheeks. And I feel the delightful friction of his balls rubbing against the curves of my ass.
Of course, I don't know but there are reasons why the overseers pack us together so tightly. Importantly, by adopting this "nuts to butts" position we are rendered helpless and unable to offer any resistance. And obviously, our close physical contact with one another does heighten our sexual urges and soon all of us are mightily aroused.
All morning, we'd been enthusiastically examined by the eager buyers who'd poked, prodded, grabbed, teased and rubbed our naked bodies before digitally exploring our assholes. Many times we'd been aroused but we'd been forbidden any relief. And all this had left us in a state of frustration.
Now, as I stand sandwiched between Miguel and the slave immediately behind me, I enjoy the sensual feel of their hard, naked bodies pressing up against my own hungry flesh. I feel the cool dampness of our sweat where our bodies touch and I shiver as the warm breath of the slave behind me gently caresses my shoulders. My cock throbs with renewed vigour and I seek to bury it deeper between Miguel's ass- cheeks.
The rounded contours of Miguel's buttocks are a nice fit for my groin and I reach out to gently stroke his quivering flanks as my cock lodges itself in the warm recess of his ass-crack. He responds by moving his feet apart to give me easier access until my genitals are nestled between his muscular thighs.
Somewhere behind me an overseer pokes the end of his cane into a slave's ass to move him forward and the resultant compacting of our naked bodies only heightens our sexual urges. Suddenly, I'm aware that the slave behind me is humping me and I wriggle my ass back in an invitation for him to continue. I feel his sweat slicked chest pressed hard up against my own perspiration soaked back and I feel the rivulets of our sweat trickling down between us. This close proximity to him and to Miguel does nothing to calm me and it just heightens my need for release. But there's no release and we are forbidden to cum.
Of course, I'm unaware that this closeness - this compacting of our nude bodies - is well orchestrated by our overseers. The rationale behind the crush is to keep us aroused so that when we finally step up on to the auction block our cocks are erect and dripping. It is a practice that Malik understands only too well and one that his ancestors have used to great effect over the many years of their slave trading. This arousal of a slave as he stands on the block is a subliminal sign to the buyers of the slave's potency and a practical demonstration of the vigour and strength of his erection. And it is one that the buyers look for and greatly appreciate.
Soon, the hips of all thirty-one of us are thrusting in unison and our enforced silence is broken by the grunts of our exertions, our soft, pleasurable moaning and the rattling of our chains. I am so engrossed that I don't hear the soft buzz of the buyers' voices in the adjoining saleyard as they take their seats on the tiered gallery looking down on the auction platform.
Suddenly, the loud, musical clang of a struck cymbal startles us into silence and ends our wild thrusting against one another. Instinctively, I know that the cymbal announces the beginning of today's auction and as the buyers fall silent, we are able to hear Malik speak.
This silence is respectfully maintained as Malik welcomes the buyers and thanks them - his esteemed and valued clients - for their continued patronage. His words are greeted with a round of polite applause. He calls down heaven's blessing on the afternoon's transactions with the earnest wish that the slaves purchased today will serve their new masters loyally, diligently and obediently. As he expresses these sentiments, there is a low murmur of assent from the buyers and encouraged, Malik goes on to outline the rules governing today's auctions and the terms of payment.
With these preliminaries out of the way, Malik declares the auction open and hands over the proceedings to his auctioneer. He retires from the platform to a seat on the front bench from where he can watch as each slave is sold and keep a running record of each slave's sale sure in the knowledge that today's offerings will return him a most handsome profit.
Once more, the clash of the cymbal rings out and the auctioneer speaks.
"Gentlemen, if you are ready and have your wallets open at the ready then let us begin."
His attempt at humour is answered by the buyers' good-natured laughter.
"Bring forth the first slave to be sold." The auctioneer's voice booms out. "Fetch lot one to the auction- block!"
Our overseers move quickly and, at the head of our line, the slave nearest the door has a chain attached to his collar and he is led out of the race and up the steps to his destiny.
His departure brings home to us that all of us will soon follow him to the auction block.
To be continued ......