SURPLUS SALE III: Collapse of the Surplus Sales Scheme
by Bill Smith
Things hadn't quite turned out like the five friends had thought just a number of months ago when they jubilantly each bought an appealing, well trained young slave for a mere $20,000 on time payments. In fact, their experience seemed to validate that old saying "The poor will always be poor" which implied they had neither the skill, training, or brains to be anything but poor. Whereas they had originally celebrated their upward mobility into the slaveholding class and, as such, an end to their chronic sexual frustration, they now found themselves with maxxed-out credit cards, semi-starved slaves fast losing their bodily appeal, liens on their furniture, and landlords screaming for back payment of their rent. The final blow came with the arrival of the sheriff at Jacob's house with a warrant in hand for his arrest and seizure of all his possessions, which didn't include much of anything outside of the handsome slave he had possessed for only six months now.
The first reality was that their plan to rent out the slaves to help pay off the installment debt on them was pure fantasy. Few of their neighbors, it seemed, had the means to pay for sex and the few that did preferred to go to a brothel where they had a wide choice of slaves at their disposal for a fee even cheaper than they were charging for the use of their slaves and the relatively plush and at least semi-private surroundings much more inducive for good sex than right out in front of everyone in the streets or in the shabby apartments of the slaves' owners. In response, the five first lowered the rental price for their slave boys to three dollars, but even that didn't increase the business much. Next, they had the slaves go door to door offering themselves for sale, but that ended up with the slaves simply being grabbed, thoroughly and desperately used, and then thrust out the door without payment. Some of the slaves were even battered and bruised up in the process so that subsequent sale was impossible for a few days after such an experience. Some of their neighbors demanded the slaves be shared with them free or they would simply take them for themselves. One gang of local teen-agers were making serious threats about kidnaping all five slaves and selling them off to a black-market dealer they did business with - mainly, up to now, selling off boys in rival gangs that had strayed into their territory. Such clandestine deals not only brought in some much needed cash for fancy clothes, booze, and drugs, but generally got the captured goods completely out of the state so their whereabouts couldn't be traced and any possible return to freedom was practically impossible. In fact, my own Latino had been briefly captured by one such teenage gang who fucked him raw before I was able to hire a couple of thugs with machine guns to raid their headquarters and seize him back for me, quite a bit the worst for wear. After that episode, the gang swore they would get revenge and I knew that meant taking both my Latino slave and probably myself the next time they got a chance.
The second reality was even more grim. Feeding the slaves even the cheapest slave chow was expensive. It took two feedings a day, a pound each time, to keep their strength and energy up. Any less, we found, and they started losing weight which hurt their physique and looks and, even worse, seemed to drastically lower their spunkiness in satisfying us sexually. When, as an economic expedient, we tried cutting them down to a single one-pound meal a day, all they seemed to be interested in was sucking us off until we realized they were after our cum as a food source. Over time with reduced and skipped meals, the diet took a toll on the slaves - they began to look haggard, sallow, and lethargic and we saw their resale value crumbling right before us.
At that point, if we had any brains, we could have fattened them up, sold them to a second hand dealer for whatever we could get while they would still be worth quite a bit of money, and cut our losses. But our pride and vanity in being slave holders got in the way, I'm afraid. We simply refused, to a man, to face reality - we couldn't afford the luxury of owning slaves ourselves unless our income was close to doubled.
Well,the income from our pathetic jobs didn't double - they stayed just the same and our debts mounted not through additional expenditures but through not paying the obligations we already had on hand. First, we stalled on the rent for our apartments; next we mortgaged our furniture, TV, etc., through a local pawn shop; finally, we didn't make the monthly payment to the slave dealer we had bought the slaves from originally. The first two tactics led to a lot of inconvenience and embarrassment - our landlord hounded us constantly and the apartments got more and more bare until all that was left, usually, was a bed, a stove, and a refrigerator. The third tactic, though, failure to make our monthly payment on the slaves, led to quick action almost immediately after the second missed payment. Within days, the sheriff arrived at Jacob's doorstep with an arrest warrant in hand. By the end of that week, the other four of us found ourselves locked up in the court jail where Bret had worked up to the time of his arrest. Our slaves were now a floor beneath us in tiny little cages where repossessed goods were kept until return to their original owner (the dealer) or resale at the next scheduled sheriff's sale. At least, the sheriff had lectured us as he locked us up, our slaves would be fed properly now either by the dealer we had bought them from or by him - they'd bring double the price if their ribs didn't show and they got the flesh back on their buns.
Technically, the slaves reverted back to the dealer we had bought them from after 60 days of non-payment according to the mortgage papers we had signed when we bought the slaves on the installment plan. The first morning after all five of us had been incarcerated, we were hauled rather unceremoniously into a busy court room before a judge who was overburdened with cases like this - in his eyes, poor people getting big airs pretending they weren't poor and bothering their betters making a mess of their lives.
The dealer's cadre of three lawyers promptly presented their case of non-payment, reviewed the contract we had signed, and asked the court to assign the slaves back to them for resale to "some decent party who can assume proper responsibility for their actions and not burden the courts with their stupidity." They suggested the slaves would certainly be better off ("They are half-starved, your honor, and clearly desperate which poses a threat to civil order") and society would be better off if "social leaches like these five would be placed in a position to repay society for all the trouble they caused and serve as an object lesson to others of their class who might be lured into overstepping their means."
"The only way they could repay society would be through service," the judge responded.
"Exactly, your honor. We petition the court to enslave all five of these misfits. After a proper training at the state training facilities, they could be sold to repay the courts costs and contribute the remainder to the general fund which, as you know, your honor, helps keep our taxes in proper balance."
"I don't need some young whipper-snappers like you three legal eagles lecturing me on what to do with the proceeds of our slave sales," the judge growled.
Turning to us, now with our hands shackled behind us, he asked, "Is it true you failed to make two payments in a row as your contract for the slave goods specified?"
"Yes," we all replied, "but...."
"No but's about it," he cut us off swiftly. "You either didn't pay or you did. Which is it?"
"Well, we didn't pay this time, but....." Bret, who knew the judge from his work there began to explain.
"Shut up, Bret," the judge barked. "Your answer is yes. Let it be recorded that all five defendants admitted they did not meet the terms of the contract they signed. And you, Bret, have brought enough disgrace and embarrassment to this court without making it worse with your stupid mouth. I'm ashamed to admit you once worked here."
"Your honor," George piped up. "I'm a student at Miles Law School specializing in slave affairs and..."
"Shut up," the judge said, "or I'll have the bailiff gag you. There's nothing worse than a mouthy student from a minor league law school who thinks he knows it all. I knew more about slave law before you were even born than you'll ever know, you impertinent bastard. "
Turning to the slave dealer's team of attorneys, he asked, "Your recommendation is enslavement for all five standing here before us and return of the mortgaged goods to your firm for resale?"
"Yes, your honor," they said in one voice.
"Judgement rendered. All five before me to be stripped naked immediately before us as is appropriate for a court decreed slave, fitted with a temporary slave collar, and removed by the bailiff to the nearest state slave training facility for non-payment of a legally contracted negotiation. Upon completion of their rehabilitation to proper slave status, they are to be sold at public auction, the proceeds specified for repayment of all appropriate court costs with the remainder to go into the public fund. Their slavery is irrevocable and lifelong as befits their crime. Furthermore, it is my recommendation to the warden of the state slave training facility that this court's former employee, Bret Smith, and the alleged law student, George Fitzgerald, be considered for permanent silencing through severance of their vocal chords if they ever again have the audacity to challenge their betters as we all witnessed in their court hearing."
There was a chuckle throughout the court room at this little addendum to the sentencing as we five stood in stunned silence. The team of three lawyers for the slave house patted each other on the back for their good work and quickly walked up to the judge to congratulate him on once again demonstrating his well-known sagacity in protecting civil society. No one left, though. They all were waiting for the bailiffs to take over as they were now entering from the rear doors.
"Hands in back of your head and stand straight to be stripped, slaves," the biggest one ordered all five of us. He was dressed exactly like Bret dressed when he was employed there up until today: tight black leather pants, a similar form fitting jacket and black leather boots and cap. An adjacent slave handler cracked his whip over our heads as a signal for us to respond now and, when we didn't in our confusion, the whip bore into our backs so fast we didn't even realize where the horrible pain was coming from as the blow knocked us to the floor.
"Stand up for stripping and get those hands in back of your heads, slaves," the bailiff said as again the handler's whips slashed across our backs. We struggled to our feet, not easy because of our hands shackled in back, and trembled as our pants and shirts were quickly cut off of us by the bailiff with a huge pair of scissors. In less than a minute, all five of us were stark naked right in front of everyone with our shackled hands in back of our heads so we were totally exposed. Our exposed backs showed the red weals where the whip had bit into our backs. There were no shoes, socks, or underwear to remove, typical of the poor. We were then ordered to spread our legs wide and "display your bodies properly" so "all in the court can see you as the slave you are. Turn slowly with your pelvis thrust out so all can see you displayed as a slave should be."
Although we weren't body shaved yet as most slaves were, we weren't collared or ringed anywhere, and we weren't branded or had any other ownership marks on us, the experience was overwhelming as all eyes stared at the newly enslaved bodies before them. Everyone, men, women, and even children, took all of our bodies in as we slowly rotated before them, thoroughly enjoying our abject humiliation and total embarrassment at being displayed like this. At that moment, not one of us thought that we had routinely had our own slaves display themselves like this almost constantly nor did we ever think that they might have been embarrassed or humiliated by being displayed nude at all times. After all they were slaves.
Jeff got a huge erection at being displayed to no one's surprise. All his life he gloried in displaying his beautiful well-built body and his huge, perfectly formed equipment and envied slaves getting to show their bodies off routinely. He had even hinted around he wouldn't mind being a slave to be displayed if he could find the right owner. A smile on his face told us he was happy now that his secret wish was coming true. He began dripping as one of the lawyers, about his age and good looking himself, stared at his totally exposed body with lust in his eyes. A murmur went up in the audience as it was obvious a natural born slave was among those sentenced that day and the body being displayed so wantonly before them would, no doubt, be bringing great enjoyment to some lucky owner in the near future.
George, used to slaves being displayed from his experiences in the slave training facility he worked at part time, seemed to accept his fate that the tables were now turned and soon someone like himself would be assigned to "train" him sexually for his new life. From now on, he realized, he was going to be the one getting fucked regularly, not the other way around. He just hoped he could still talk, at least occasionally, given the judge's recommendation to the slave training center's warden. George had worked many a time with a 'silenced' slave who could only grunt as their only verbal responses once their vocal cords had been severed. He knew the alteration only added to a slave's sales price so any excuse was used to have it done. A feeling of irony swept over him as he stood their naked with the crowd enjoying the beauty of his well built and well hung body with his shiny black hide gleaming in the courtroom lights. He planned to escape poverty through being a silver- tongued lawyer well-schooled in slave ownership rights, black market slave disposition, and estate sales of large slave holdings. Now he was below poverty. He was a slave himself up for sale once properly trained. He would be trained, probably by a big-dicked part-time trainer just like he had been, rather than be a trainer. His verbal skills might be silenced forever instead of ringing forth in a courtroom just like this one. Most likely, se would probably be trained and sold as a pleasure slave since handsome, young, well-built blacks brought top prices in that market. That meant he was going to be fucked over and over and over in his training just as he had done to those assigned to him at the training facility he had worked at, and, once sold, would probably be fucked even more than that.
Jacob wasn't ever too bright. He had worked with slaves all his life and knew exactly what they thought about, their hopes and aspirations, and exactly how they adjusted to the realities of their world. He knew now he wouldn't have to worry about keeping his job competing with slave labor; he knew he had a sellable skill, brick laying, where slaves were usually purchased to do the work, and he knew his well built, muscular body would assure him lots of sex with the other slaves if not with his supervisors and owners. Overall, he wasn't too worried. The strain of financial problems was behind him now and he could get on with his life. It had been stupid to try to aspire to be a slaveholder himself. Being made a slave was a deserving punishment for anyone that dumb, he thought. The look of relief on his face was quite noticeable to the crowd who made a note to buy him if they ever got the chance. No problems with that slave, probably. He looked like he would be happy once he was sold and settled.
Bret, who worked at this very court until now, knew exactly what was ahead of him, having witnessed it at his work for years now. It didn't frighten him and in some ways didn't look that bad. He knew slaves got lots of action, got their balls drained on a regular base usually, and the training was nothing he couldn't handle with his big body and muscular frame. He thought about who might buy him when his training was over and how much he would bring on the block. Quite a bit, he reasoned, if his training went well and, most likely, he would appeal to a wide range of people which would run his price up. The higher the price, he knew, the better treatment and care he would get. His own experience as a slave holder had taught him that - they had bought cheap and the slaves got cheap buyers. They ended up haggard and malnourished. He would do everything possible to get sold to a rich matron or a wealthy old man who would feed him well, appreciate his body enough to where he could unload now and then, and protect their investment from predators. Unknowingly, he had thrust his pelvis out even more as the thoughts raced through his head and he was now sporting a huge dripping erection. Almost everyone in the courtroom, even the old judge, appreciated his apparent quick adjustment to enslavement. It turned out Bret had exactly the attributes that the old judge liked in a slave's body - wide muscular shoulders, a practically hairless body, long blond hair almost to his shoulders, well-sculpted very muscular pecs with big brown tits that practically needed a bra to show them off properly, big balls handing close to his body, a long very thick prick already neatly circumcised, and a muscular well-rounded bubble butt that look like it begged to be fucked. He was the embodiment of a Viking warrior, one of the old judge's fantasies. The judge made a note to call the slave training center warden, a long-time friend, and ask him for a little favor. There was no reason this slave had to be placed with the others when it came time to sell him - the judge would pay a fair market price long before that, especially if the warden made the slave available to him during the training period every other night or so. Besides, the judge felt like he knew the new slave better than the others - after all, he had worked for the court for years and it seemed only appropriate he end up back with the judge in a considerably different capacity, one very appropriate for a slave but hardly for a court bailiff. It's just the judge never saw him with his clothes off - the slave was the type you just couldn't appreciate with clothes covering him up. With that, Bret's fate was decided and when Bret saw the look in the judge's eye, he knew it. The question now was whether he was to serve the judge silently with clipped vocal chords or retain the ability to tell the judge how much he appreciated his ownership of him. To promote this latter possibility, he gave the judge a long, lingering look of pleading lust and total compliance, a move not unnoticed by the aging magistrate whose organ was growing hard as he envisioned how he would be using this appealing slave once he was delivered to his quarters by his friend, the warden.
Me? My handsome Latino slave would now be someone else's to toy with and enjoy. But I had similar good looks that may attract a decent buyer. I was a Cretan genetically with the smooth olive skin and well defined musculature that usually means. I was sloe eyed with long thick eyelashes and heavy black eye brows which highlighted by handsome face. Furthermore, I was a good diesel mechanic who could earn my new owner some real money if he leased me out to a good facility that specialized in diesel engines. My best bet in the slave market, I decided, was to sell myself as a steady income-producer who could also bring an owner unparalleled satisfaction in his or her own bed. I knew handsome Mediterranean slave- boys were all the rage with sophisticated women and very wealthy men nowadays who could afford the luxury of their own little harems. A harem boy who could be sent out every day to earn big money for their mistress before returning each afternoon to warm her bed and bring her squeals of joy would be appreciated and ensure longevity, good health, and staying off the auction block too often. Besides, I speculated, even a demanding mistress' studs got to shoot off eventually - they didn't expect you to hold it in all the time, just so they didn't risk pregnancy. Often slaveboys purchased for a woman's harem were vasectomized so that any pregnancy complications of a good fucking was eliminated. He knew many stud slaves doing the pumping got to eventually discharge as long as their ardor wasn't dampened by a premature ejaculation and their mistress had been completely satisfied beforehand. While thinking this out, he realized he was showing hard, even dripping, and noted three women, all rich judging by their dress, obviously evaluating his manhood and licking their lips in appreciation. Yes, that's exactly the market he intended to focus on when he was put up for sale despite all the training he knew he would receive in being fucked himself and satisfying a male owner at the training center he was headed for. But, according to the Latino I had owned who had certainly gone through all the training himself, that training also included plenty of instruction and practice in totally satisfying women owners as well. Every slave nowadays was expected to be able to please any owner, regardless of their gender or sexual preferences.
For the five of us a whole new life had already begun, it seemed, as we stood there slowly rotating our naked bodies before the crowd. Eventually, of course, we were whisked below to the holding pens where we were properly collared, had a huge dildo forced up our ass as an introduction to slavery, and, within an hour or so, herded into a slave transport truck and delivered to the slave training center the judge had referred to.
For the five slaves repossessed in the individual cages below us, a similar truck picked them up and whisked them back to the same place they had been just six months ago when first being peddled off in the so-called "surplus sale." There they were given a nourishing meal, injected with vitamin shots, checked for diseases, pumped full of antibiotics for the few infections they had picked up in their declining physical condition, and given a roomy cage to sleep in with fresh straw. No one fucked them nor would they for a while. They were going to be allowed to rest up for the next 30 days, get their health back, put on the weight they had lost, and get their bodies back in top shape through some well planned exercise routines. They were already trained; all effort now was on getting them back into a marketable commodity where the dealer could recoup those lost payments on their bodies.
All five of them recognized many of the others in adjoining cages that had been sold at the 'surplus sale' with them so long ago. It seemed the whole idea of selling them off at hugely discounted prices had been a real loser. Selling deflated goods to the lower classes who could only afford them on an installment plan simply didn't work. The new owners, devoid of any resources other than the earnings of lousy jobs, could neither feed them over the long haul or meet the payments of owning them. All they could do was fuck them until their holes were raw, their bodies were exhausted, and their good looks were fading fast.
Now those slaves were flooding back into their old dealer needing a lot of rehabilitation before they could be resold for a decent profit and the courts were jammed with cases of default on contractual debt. Most of the poor so involved were now being enslaved themselves, a good object lesson for others of their class who might be thinking of overreaching their assets.
From now on, slaves were only to be sold at full market value to those able to buy them on the spot for cash, a certified check, or charged to a valid debit card. No more discounting! No more installment buying of slaves! No more mortgages on slave property! It was hard to ascertain who was at fault the more: the dealers and banks coming up with the stupid scheme to get rid of their surplus stock, or the even stupider poor who always tended to bite off more than they could chew. The courts warned the dealers never to repeat their mistake or the courts would solve the slave surplus problem by new warrants limiting the slave breeding operations to no more production than could be profitably sold at market value.
But they also warned that the whole problem of the poor in society might be best addressed by liberalizing the laws concerning enslavement. As it was now, you had to have a crime committed to enslave a person, e.g., violating a contractual debt agreement. But maybe the lawmakers could consider changing the laws a bit to where lack of capitol funds, no income producing job, or just impoverishment itself, penury, was a crime. Then you could enslave so many people dragging down civil society that breeding slaves would be unnecessary, at least until the problem resolved itself. Of course, slave training facilities would need to be expanded considerably and current slave breeding enterprises would howl, but in the long run, it would solve a lot of problems without disrupting the need for ever growing numbers of slaves to keep the society running smoothly and competitive with the rest of the world, something everyone recognized as essential.
[Feedback is always appreciated. Please forward your comments to anonymous4371@juno.com. Thanks. Bill Smith]