FULFILLING THE FANTASY VI
By Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
"How do you like the trip so far, Mark?" John asked his friend as they strolled the deck of the luxury ship Fantasia on the long trip from Surinam to the little known southernmost port of Brazil.
"So far, so good," Mark replied. "I really like this ship, as you know. That Italian slave assigned to serve as our personal room steward is a real treat in my opinion, and, of course, the ports are all new and different. But John, I think the thing I like best, compared to all the other cruises I've taken, is we never go where there are tourists clogging the sights and ruining the native charm. On the down side, the heat and humidity in Surinam almost did me in. No wonder they have to keep a whip on those slaves all the time," he laughed. "Those slave boys we bought there who are sweating their balls off caged down in the ship's hold are the lucky ones if you ask me, John. We'll soon cross the equator and then it will start cooling down a bit. I just hope those new purchases don't catch cold when the temperature gets under 110 down there," he chuckled. "And you, John, is it what you expected?"
"Better," John replied. "The food is better than I thought it would be; the service in the dining hall is a rare treat for me at least; I too like fucking that hot Italian slave attached to our room; and - so far - the markets we've visited have offered exactly what the International Slave Dealers Associaton promised: good variety, cheap prices, and generally high quality. It's fun for me, as a dealer, to visit the major sources first hand. Gives me a better understanding of the market in general."
"You miss the tourist crowd?" Mark asked.
"Hardly, Mark," John laughed. "Besides, tourists would only up the prices - they always do! We've got several days at sea to get to the next port, Mark. What do you say we cool down some of our purchases sweating away down in that hold?"
"Good idea. I can't think of a better way to while away the time," Mark laughed. "Soon as we get back to the room, I'll have our hot Italian boy go down and rescue that mixed blood black and Asian boy I bought yesterday in Surinam. He started bucking on me the minute I started stroking him - should be ever more eager out of the heat."
"I'm really in the mood for another go at our steward, Mark, but I'll have him bring up a pure black boy I bought in Haiti for a little variety."
Twenty minutes later, the Italian slave had retrieved the two requested slaves from the hold, had them cleaned inside and out, freshly shaved and lubricated, and then prepared himself in like fashion. Mark fucked his Surinam boy who got so excited he spurted all over the bed sheets the minute Mark was all the way up his ass, but then settled down, proving to be most satisfactory. John had the Haitian slave suck him off while he toyed with the slave's large tits and then, just for the novelty, pumped a huge load out of the slave's massive genitals who was so grateful he repeatedly kissed his master's cum-drenched hands before licking the mess up. With that, they ordered the slaves to kneel in the corner after they had both cleansed themselves inside and out in the suite's bathroom to await further use if their masters so desired.
John beckoned the Italian slave to lie on the bed between his two masters so they could play with his body while they were recovering from usage of the slaves he had brought up from the hold. Mark played with the Italian's ringed tits; John seemed more interested in squeezing his large balls and then running his index finger in and out of the boy's taut greased hole.
"Where did the cruise line buy you?" Mark asked the slave as he began sucking on one of the boy's nipples.
"In Libya, master," the Italian slave answered humbly.
"Libya? I thought you were Italian!" Mark retorted.
"I am, master, but my father was an executive for an Italian oil company located in Libya and my whole family lived there - I was born, like all my brothers and sisters, in Libya, master."
"Then you weren't born a slave?" Mark continued.
"No, master. When the Libyan government nationalized the oil fields, they executed all of the expatriates working there and enslaved all their children."
"How old were you when you were enslaved?" Mark probed, moving his mouth over to the other succulent tit.
"Almost 17, master. My brothers and sisters and I were all sent to a slave training camp far out in the desert for six months and then we were all sold at auction. The cruise line that owns the Fantasia bought me and shipped me to this ship where I've been ever since, master," the Italian replied without remorse or bitterness.
"Your brothers and sisters were also bought by the cruise line?"
"No, master. I don't know who they were sold to. I was the first to be sold in that I was the oldest."
"Oh," I said, knowing children were traded around just like adult slaves, although, of course, they were much cheaper. "So you've been a room steward ever since, slave?" John entered the conversation, seeing I couldn't talk much sucking the boy's tits.
"No, master," the Italian replied, wiggling his ass around a little as he squeezed the long finger pumping his hole. "I've had to work up to this position, master," he said proudly, gasping slightly as John rammed his finger in full length and twisted it around in the boy's rectum.
"How so?" John asked.
"Master, first I was a baggage slave handling all the guest's luggage and all the material in the holds. But when some the guests began requesting me to service them, I was promoted to the dining room, master. I worked in dining service for about three or four months, master, until there was an opening for a room steward and I got assigned to this room. I've been lucky enough to keep my assignment here ever since, master," the slave replied as John's fingering kept him quivering hard and now he was beginning to drip copiously in response to both the prostate and tit massage.
"You are lucky, compared to those two slaves kneeling over the corner who sweat it out caged in the hold most of the time," Mark added as he moved his mouth over to the other tit again.
"Yes, master," the Italian slave said sincerely. "Very lucky."
"When you were a baggage slave, where did they keep you?" John asked.
"Down on the bottom deck, master, are the quarters for the ship's slaves. We're caged separately down there with our wrists shackled to our collars so there is no way we can get any sexual relief . That way, we are always 'ready' if a guest wants to use us. But we do have a common shower and toilet area. They can cage 1000 of us on that one deck alone, master, in that little space is wasted. All the staff, except for the room stewards, are kept there, master - the deck hands, the maintenance boys, the slaves for the engine and electrical room, the dining room staff, the cooks, the bartenders, the cleaners, the cargo handlers, the painters - all the slaves a ship needs to run properly, master."
"Is it air-conditioned, slave?" John inquired.
"There aren't any windows down there, master, so it is air-conditioned a little, but not nearly as cool as the guests' rooms, of course. Just enough to keep us from stinking too much. They always make us shower before we're around any guests, master, but it's a lot better than the hold where they are storing the new purchases. There, they don't care how much you stink," the slave laughed. Still, master, when you get 1000 bodies all in one big room, caged or not, things get a little smelly, but you quickly get used to it. It's certainly much, much better than some slave pens back in Libya while I was being trained at the slave camp, master. I never heard any slave down there complain."
"It's not a slave's role to complain," John said sternly. "That would take unbelievable gall and should lead to some swift and corrective punishment I would imagine."
"Of course, master," the Italian slave agreed as John's finger began fucking him furiously while Mark, taking a respite from his sucking of the slave's tits, encompassed the Italians's balls and gently kneaded them with one hand while he played with the boy's tit rings with the other. "I'm sure, master, most slaves appreciate the accommodations on the ship compared to the slave pens elsewhere."
"I would think they would," John said sharply as he removed his finger from the slave's butt and began inserting his large prick up the Italian's stretched hole.
"Were you a virgin when they drug you out to the slave training camp?" Mark asked.
"No, master," the slave giggled. "My family owned two black slaves - a male and a female that they planned to breed eventually, master. But we all had full access to them, so since I was 13 I was fucking both of them regularly, master."
"Did your father know you were using them like that?" Mark continued.
"Well, I know my dad did, master. He was fucking both of them himself, of course, and when I was 12 started encouraging me to use them - said it was part of growing up and would keep me calmed down. Besides, he said, it was good for the slaves." The Italian slave smiled at the remembrance. "He used to say, master, that a good fucking reminded slaves they weren't there just to eat him out of house and home."
Mark chuckled at the remembered remark as the slave's balls he was churning in his hands began wiggling around a bit as John began pumping the boy's ass. "I suppose you're being reminded of that right now," Mark laughed.
"Yes, master," the Italian chuckled as John drove even deeper into him.
"Were you fucked much when you were a baggage handler, slave?" Mark said, getting interested in the ship's operations.
"Once a week, if all of us hadn't caused any trouble and we worked really hard, we were allowed to fuck each other for an hour," the slave answered. "And, occasionally, one of the guests would take a fancy to us watching us work and would request us in their bed when it was convenient. But, master, that wasn't very often because the guests don't see the baggage slaves much. They generally work when most people are sleeping, master." Mark's ball churning was having results in that the slave was beginning to leak cum profusely all over Mark's hands.
"Did you like being a dining room attendant?" Mark asked as John was completely caught up in his fucking of the boy by this time.
"Yes, master. It was a lot better than being a baggage slave because we got to shoot off a lot more than just once a week or so. A lot of the guests are into that "sauce" idea and so dining room slaves get milked a lot, as you know, master. Getting off that way was a great relief, master, since we were never allowed to shoot off any other way and we all appreciated serving the guests in that way, even if, sometimes, you got milked three times in one meal - then you got a little sore, but it was worth it, master. Besides, I didn't mind sucking the guests off under the table all the time. What most people don't realize is that if you're down on your knees sucking someone off, you're not required to do any work at the time. I liked having all those unscheduled breaks from having to wait table, master, and carry all those heavy platters back and forth from the kitchen, master. When a guest motioned he wanted a good sucking, we slaves practically dove under the table to be the first chosen because if you weren't you got stuck with all the serving duties yourself."
"What if I wanted to bring a dining room attendant back to my room, slave?" John asked, panting a little from his efforts driving his shaft in and out of the boy's ass.
"That's easy, master. Just ask the head waiter for a leash and after dinner, when you're ready, you just hook the leash to the slave's collar and take him back to the room with you. When you're through with him, he'll find his way back to the dining hall quickly enough and he'll love you for choosing him for usage." The Italian slave giggled again. "When the guests are fucking him, he doesn't have to wait tables - it's sort of an unexpected vacation for him, master."
"Did everyone ever leash you in the dining hall, slave" Mark asked, the slave's oozing cum running through his fingers as he continued his ball kneading.
"Many times, master," the slave smiled broadly. "That's why they picked me to be a room steward the minute an opening occurred, master. They'd heard good reports from the guests about my servicing them in their own beds. That's what it takes to get to be a room steward," he said proudly as he backed his butt down firmly all the way on John's shaft and clamped his butt muscles tightly to squeeze the shaft embedded in him. "If you don't really satisfy the guests in bed, master, you end up waiting tables all your life."
"Having a hot body that's about as sexy as it gets doesn't hurt, slave," John said as he stiffened and emptied a full load into the slave.
"Yes, master," the slave replied as he tightened his anal muscles as tightly as he could to heighten his user's pleasure while he was in orgasm. "But all the slaves the cruise line buys up are young and good looking and well hung, master, as you've no doubt noticed, master. Just having an appealing body isn't enough if you're a slave on this ship, master. You have to work hard pleasing the guests with that body every way you know how," the slave replied seriously. "Every slave on this ship is aware of that, master, and we are all constantly striving to learn how to please the guests better, master."
"Of course, slave," Mark said. "Any slave with half a mind knows that a pleasing slave is a slave who will be properly fed and taken care of. Otherwise, a slave gets sold off fast and no one can guarantee their fate," he added grimly.
"It would have been instructive for all the slaves on the ship to have witnessed the mine slaves we saw in Surinam. That would have motivated them, I bet," John laughed as he pulled his shaft out of the Italian slave so the slave could properly clean it.
"Well, it would have at least made them aware how pampered slaves are here on the Fantasia," Mark added sagaciously.
"Yes, masters," was all the Italian could add as he twisted his body around so he could clean off John's prick while keeping his balls in Mark's hands.
"Are many of the new purchases down in the hold getting used much?" Mark asked out of curiosity.
"Yes, master. Almost all of them it seems. Every time I go down there, a lot of the cages are empty so they are in their master's rooms no doubt being fucked," the steward answered as he licked John's prick clean of all the excess cum and lubricant from his recent fucking.
"Does that surprise you, slave?" John asked.
"No, master. It seems most owners like to fuck their new purchases as soon as possible, master, to establish their ownership of their bodies. And, master, most slaves expect to be fucked by their new masters - it's sort of a ritual for slaves, master, that bonds them to their new owner.. At least, that what we were taught in the training camp. Is that right, master?" the Italian slave asked.
"Of course, slave," John replied. "How else could a slave learn his body now belongs to a new owner?"
"Yes, master, every slave understands that," the Italian slave said in total agreement, as if the wisdom of such a practice was self-evident.
"At our last port stop, one dealer bought up a bunch of huge wild looking black slaves that weren't even shaved or had their hair trimmed with rings in their noses - real primitives. You ever see them down in the hold?" Mark asked.
"Yes, master," the Italian slave responded. "They keep their nose rings hooked to the bars of the cage so they can't move at all, master."
"Interesting," Mark reflected. "I can't imagine their new owner sending down for them to entertain him in bed."
"I don't think so, master," the steward smiled. "They sure are different than most of the slaves caged down there. But they're getting fucked regularly, master."
"Really?" Mark asked.
"Not by their new owner, master. He must have told the slave handlers down in the hold to fuck them, because that's what they're doing. They hook their nose rings to the walls in the shower room and take a hose to them inside and out and then they fuck those boys fastened to the wall by their noses so they can't move no matter what anybody's doing to their bodies, master. Those boys howl and grunt when they're being fucked, but there is nothing they can do about what the handlers are doing to them because of that nose ring in them. Every time you send me down to the hold, master, I see at least two or three of those nose ring slaves being fucked by the handlers. The way they grunt and groin, I don't thing they've been fucked much before, master. I guess the handlers are sort of breaking them in for their new owner, master."
"What do you think of those nose rings?" John asked the slave.
"I always thought they were just decorations, master, but I can see a slave can be controlled perfectly by them. Those slaves down in the hold, once there are hooked to the wall by their nose rings, can't move no matter what, master."
"You miss being free, boy?" Mark asked out of curiosity, not concern.
"I don't know, master," the slave boy answered honestly. "Never was really free master, in that my father was pretty strict with all his children. But my family is all gone now, master, and most orphans get enslaved one way or another. I suppose fate meant for me to be a slave, master, in that I really don't mind being a slave - in fact I like it most of the time. I don't have to worry about much as long as I do what I'm told. No, overall, I don't miss being free, what little I can remember about it after being trained in the slave camp, master. But," he giggled as a huge smile spread across his handsome face, "I do miss fucking those two black slaves my dad owned whenever I wanted, master."
"What was that training camp like you keep talking about?" John asked, now completely spent and lying on his side staring at the two slaves in the corner still kneeling in readiness.
"Tough, master," the Italian replied. "Real tough. It was hard to get used to being naked all the time, never being allowed to talk, and eating slave mush as our only food. After we got used to the whip discipline they preferred, we learned real quick to do anything we were told any time they wanted. I'd never been fucked myself before then, master, or ever sucked anyone off. When they started all that, I balked, but the whip changed my mind eventually. After that, all of us were fucked at least five or six times a day until it seemed like nothing, master. I learned, master, you can adjust to anything given the proper motivation and good discipline."
"What was the hardest thing you had to learn, slave? Mark asked. "Learning to keep your mouth shut until asked to speak or getting used to people fondling your body?"
"None of those, master. Learning to keep from shooting off until given permission, master. That was hard for me, master, and it took a lot of whip to teach that skill to me, master. The other thing I had trouble with was learning to obey a command instantly without thinking about it - that's hard at first when you've been free. The slaves born into it never have that trouble, master."
"Well, we've certainly let you talk today, slave. Most slaves don't get to talk that much in a year. But, it's time to give that mouth a rest, slave. Being those two kneeling in the corner over here to the bed. We've have another round with them before we have you take them back for a good sweat bath in their cages," Mark ordered.
The Italian slave smiled broadly as he leaped up and quickly grabbed both kneeling slaves by their collars and had them crawl over to the bed. Once he saw the slaves being well used again, he retired to the bathroom to clean himself out, knowing he would be get all sweaty again caging the two slaves when his masters were finished with them. But, the Italian slave smiled proudly and with great self-satisfaction, he would get to come back to the air-conditioned room and they wouldn't.
As the days passed on the long trip to Porto Alegre, the Italian room steward found himself in heavy demand by his two masters despite his many trips to the hold to bring back some of their recent purchases for ancillary use. He would be glad when they reached the next port and his masters would be gone for the day visiting Brazil's most famous slave trading center buying up new stock. He knew he was lucky to be used so heavily by his masters - it insured his position as a room steward - and he didn't mind servicing them either. Both were young and attractive and often let him shoot off himself, especially when they were fully satiated by his own efforts in their bed. But every part of his body was sore and ached from overuse: the hole was raw, his prick was chaffed, his tits were swollen and oversensitive, and his jaws felt distended. But, he smiled to himself, his experience told him a good day's rest and he'd be back to normal again, eager to serve the masters any way they desired. All it took was a little time for them to play with some other slaves' bodies briefly while his healed. The slaves awaiting sale in Porto Alegre could do that rather handily and probably enthusiastically if they thought they might be bought by these two handsome and obviously extremely wealthy masters.
TO BE CONTINUED
Comments are always appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)