The Bazaar

THE BAZAAR

by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)

[I appreciate feedback on a story. On the last posting on nifty, I got two respondents (one positive). That's not very encouraging to a writer who puts considerable time and effort into preparing a story and then posting it. I would appreciate comments on this series, the first of four chapters posted below, if you would like to see the series continued.]

Chapter 1

BACKGROUND OF THE BAZAAR

In one bold move, Egypt's Minister of Development had thrust his troubled country onto the world stage. Rounding up billions in venture capital from its oil-rich Arab partner, Dubai Shipping, Ltd., a land grant directly from the Egyptian Parliament of over 100 square miles of seemingly worthless arid desert real estate 25 miles east of Alexandria but directly bordering the Mediterranean Sea, and with international trade agreements with over 40 different "most favored" countries throughout Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Central Asia, and both North and South America, the Ministry had, after three years of careful planning and thorough implementation, had at last opened "The Bazaar," the largest single source, single market import-export facility under one roof in the entire world.

In the vast facility, there were the world's largest and most modern warehousing facilities and full transport services including its own full service airport handling even the largest jumbo air freighters (including the A-380), private jets, a full trucking facility, and its own seaport handling freighters of any size, up to and including the supertankers and megacruiser classes. Included were shipping agents, customs officers, and expediters' where things needed to get done in a hurry.

Surrounding the entire complex which consumed over 100 square miles, was miles and miles of tall razor wire fencing, lookout stands stocked with ever present armed guards, lighted corridors right outside the fencing, and fleets of armored vehicles ready and waiting to quell any disturbances or unwarranted snoopiness. There was even a small Egyptian Army camp posted on the perimeter, in charge of security, with elite troops especially selected to guard this most important government enterprise.

Around the perimeter of the huge complex, there were banking facilities, hotels for buyers, corporate guest facilities, full internet operations, leasing and financing corporations, and any other monetary and electronic services modern businessmen needed in their day-to-day operations.

Inside the complex's buildings, however was the core of its purpose: the exchange of commodities from all over the world. Not just any commodities. But the most profitable commodities in today's financial world.

The name had been taken from the Arabic world for a huge market : Bazaar, instead of Souq which suggested a much smaller place. It was to outshine the largest market in the world known up to that time: the famous Grand Bazaar in Istanbul where any and everything could be obtained given time and money for well over the past 2000 years, and indeed the name "The Bazaar" was to imply that the Grand Bazaar was nothing compared to "The Bazaar" as if none other could really exist except this one.

The Bazaar was designed to lift Egypt out of its economic doldrums, quickly pay off its massive federal debts, solve Egypt's eternal unemployment problems, and, most importantly, stabilize its primarily military government under crushing pressures for over a decade now. The monetary partnership with Dubai had been wise: it gave the Emir of Dubai a way to help its struggling Islamic friend without direct involvement in any way. It also gave the Prince a way to invest billions of excess money in a venture which would prove, like most of his overtures, to pay huge interest rates over the coming years and thus boost Dubai's future economic resources all the more. And, best of all, it gave both Egypt and Dubai a way to make billions out of the trade of more established countries all over the world without risking much on their part.

As the Minister of Development pointed out so succinctly in his speech at the opening ceremonies of The Bazaar,' the new market was located just 25 miles away from where history had inspired the new operation: the famous market of Alexandria of 100 A.D. where commodities exactly like those traded in the new Bazaar were peddled throughout the known world of that time. Now history would repeat itself.

"The Bazaar will bring Egypt the glory that Alexandria brought to this fabled land over 2000 years ago and exactly in the same way - the buying and selling of some of the world's most treasured and sought-after objects. The Bazaar will also prove to be Egypt's best possible investment in the future. Although billions have been spent and will continue to be spent on this fine facility, the future will yield crops of great profit. Wasn't it the Pharaohs themselves who projected periods of great want followed by periods of great plenty? Egypt has certainly suffered through its period of great want and misery - we now eagerly await the period of great plenty and prosperity."

With that, the Minister of Development cut the ribbon opening the vast establishment and the world's largest slave market was now official open for business.

With the end of the opening comments by the Minister of Development, the fanfare music soared, the curtain was pulled, spotlights focused on a shiny metal stage and there, right in the center was the very first commodity offered for sale at the new facility.

Chapter 2

THE BAZAAR'S FIRST SALE: JULIO

"Good God, man," the magnificent olive skinned animal thought to himself, "how many people are out there, anyway?" He couldn't tell in that the spotlights blinded him from seeing the viewing audience, but he could feel their presence and hear their murmurs of excitement.

"Presenting our very first sales commodity," the announcer's voice soared over the latest in PA systems, "Julio, Number One to honor our first sale item, or whatever his new owner wants to call him," the announcer chuckled.

Julio was presented, all right. Two slave handlers had done their job thoroughly right before the curtain opened, one stroking him briskly with one hand while his other hand massaged his balls while the other handler churned the huge dildo in and out of his hole until his prostate was properly stimulated and professionally squeezed his tits until his prick was swollen to its fullest, he was dripping pre-cum visibly in his sexual excitement, and his breathing was ragged and uneven as his skin flushed in arousal. When the lights swept across his body, now posed with his organs thrust forward on slightly bent knees, his body slightly twisted to best show off his massive pectoral development and with his head held stiffly rigid by his tall leather studded neck collar, he looked like just what he was: an erotic animal in full heat. His skin was sweaty enough to gleam without looking gross, his prick twitched in excitement but he was not in danger of erupting uncontrollably, and a look of raw lust emanated from his big black eyes staring at an unseen audience.

Chained by his left ankle to the presentation plight beneath him, the slave was prompted by the auctioneer to "present." The body on display promptly put his hands in back of his neck, tensed all his muscles to obtain the best definition possible, twisted his body just slightly to best present his pecs and biceps, spread his legs wide apart, and then thrust his pelvis forward as much as possible to optimize the viewing of his genitals, still fully erect from his pre-display handling. The slave stood there passively under the hot lights, his body beginning to sweat lightly, and not daring to move from the prescribed display position.

"An Italian boy, this slave is only 19 years of age, although he has been in training since his enslavement two years ago. Yes, my friends, this boy has a full two years of training under his skin - it has taken that long to produce this absolutely perfect piece of pleasure potential you now see before you. Trained to please you in any way you want, anytime you want, and just as long as you like and that's as true for you ladies as it is for the men interested in owning a fine specimen like this. Why was the boy enslaved, you ask? A court commitment by the Italian courts who, as you are probably aware, don't take lightly to adolescent boys out on a drinking spree and damaging property in the process. His sales price will help pay for all those damaged shrubs and turf when he ran his beat-up old car into an old man's lawn. Another case of justice being done in a most sensible way and, to boot, this boy's enslavement served as a model of deterrence to other young and immature boys tempted to take a drink when they shouldn't. But little did the judge understand what some decent training and body conditioning would do for this outstanding piece of manflesh. At 17, he was nice looking' shall we say. Now, with all that training and at the zenith of manhood, he is truly magnificent and would be a credit to any owner no matter what they intend to use this body for. But, frankly, my friends, it would be a waste to put him to the usual slave tasks - this body should be put to the pleasure of his owner - and that's exactly what he's been trained to do. Just think, two long years of training - time spent learning exactly how to bring his owner the upmost in pleasure possible."

While continuing to extol his background and training, the auctioneer casually squeezed his tits until they too were fully erect, stroked his prick and cupped his large balls to demonstrate the slave's perfect acceptance of being fondled in this manner. Then, with a sharp crack of the whip in the handler's other hand, the slave was ordered to turn around, spread his legs wide, and display his open hole, obviously, like the rest of his body, scrubbed clean and lubricated for this presentation. The slave was ordered to "work his ass muscles" which he did, making his hole literally wink at the audience as it opened and closed in harmony with the ass clenching.

"Perfectly trained," the auctioneer declared. "Now, slave, let's give them a little sample of that training," he continued as a slave assistant brought out a huge dildo fastened to a small stand about 20" off the floor of the plinth.

Another smart crack of the whip and the slave prompted spread his knees wide and lowered his hole onto the tip of the dildo and then, with a loud grunt, sunk his open hole onto the greased shaft as it slowly worked its way completely up his chute while the slave grimaced, grunted, and groaned as the huge dildo stretched his chute and worked itself, inch by inch, all the way into him until the 12x5" dildo was completely engulfed within him. Sweat broke out on the slave's face as he tried to adjust to the invasion, but his training dictated he work his ass up and down on the huge shaft within it, literally fucking himself to demonstrate his abilities to the audience.

In reality, the grimacing and groans were primarily for the audience's benefit and titillation - a trick the trainers had taught him. He had so much practice in being fucked like this it was no longer painful, but he did have a feeling of really being stuffed. And, long ago, he had learned how pleasurable being fucked like this could be if you concentrated on stimulating your prostate in the process - another trick he had mastered as his hard dripping prick clearly testified.

"You can see the slave enjoys being fucked," the auctioneer chuckled, as he pointed out the hard dripping prick of the slave impaled. "Even if he has to fuck himself," he laughed. "Imagine how much he would enjoy having your prick up his butt," he extolled as the slave continued to pound his ass up and down on the fixed-in-place dildo provided. "Or, you ladies, how good that prick would feel pounding into you, always to your exact specifications and exactly how you best like to experience a handsome male slave for your personal enjoyment."

"Italian slaves are hot bloodied and this slave is a perfect example of that breed," the auctioneer said, motioning for the slave to extract his ass from the dildo stand and resume standing in full display position in front of the audience while slowly masturbating himself. Within a minute, the slave was ejaculating a massive load into a clear glass brandy sniffer so his full output could be seen by all.

"A real milker, this one," the auctioneer declared, noting the brandy sniffer was nearly one-third full of hot steaming cum. "If you like slave cum for a little refreshment now and then, this boy is perfect. But that only emphasizes what a good stud the slave would make if you wanted to try your hand at breeding a crop of your own."

The slave, having been prevented from unloading for several weeks prior to the auction, was hard again within a minute of his massive ejaculation and looked as if you could milk him again if you wanted. It was the perfect moment to start the bidding.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a minimum bid of $885,000 for this fine specimen, only 19 years of age. Shall we start the bidding there and see where it takes us?"

The bidding was intense and lengthy. Finally, it narrowed down to two men and one woman bidder as the price was now up to 1.2 million for the handsome slave still displaying himself hard and erect.

"Sold for 1.22 million," the auctioneer declared happily as the final bid wasn't topped.

The Italian slave had been sold. It was a fine beginning for "THE" Bazaar's intended mission.

Chapter 3

JULIO'S PROCESSING

Although he couldn't see who had made the winning bid before he was hastily unchained from the plinth and led to a nearby holding pen, he would soon find out once the sales price had been paid, his ownership papers had been completed, and a temporary collar was fitted around his neck, complete with an owner's leash.

Within five minutes, the paperwork was completed, and Julio had a new owner. He had been purchased by an agent of British Petroleum as a thank you gift for the second son of a ruling emir in a faraway Gulf oil-rich nation that had just signed a 10-year leasing contract with his company. He was gifted to an owner a year younger than himself but most eager to expand his small harem of handsome and well trained male slaves.

Julio was glad he finally had an individual owner, even if that owner was younger than he was. It was true he had been in training for two long, long years. Upon being sentenced by the court, Julio had been promptly shipped to the state's slave processing unit where he was stripped and had never worn a single piece of clothing since. Once totally naked, all the body hair below his neck had been shaved and his body had been kept smooth and hairless ever since. Next, he had been fitted with a "training collar" which was heavy, fairly tight fitting, and so tall it forced his head into an upright position at all times.

That was followed by something even more degrading: an equally heavy 1" band soldered tightly around his entire genital package which in effect lifted' the organs up for prominent display by forcing his prick to ride on his balls - the whole package sort of thrust out in front of his body by the device. He was quick to discover that, once banded, he seemed to be erect more of the time. Perhaps because it was so easy to fondle him now, perhaps because the band itself tended to keep the blood more in the organ itself, perhaps because he was so conscious of his own sexual organs now that they were thrust out in front of him at all times, perhaps shaved as smooth as a new born baby and with his enviable large sex permanently on display for anyone to ogle and play with, he felt like what he was: a sexual animal.

But the constant nudity, the banding and the collar weren't the only things done to announce his new status as a slave. Both his tits were fitted with 1" rings that were not only convenient to leash him by, but also kept his tits in constant agitation with every little movement of his body. Even breathing sent shivers of stimulation through his ringed tits as did temperature changes, the wind blowing, and any change in body position. Julio thought the tit rings were as diabolical as the band around his genitals - each device's effect was ongoing, i.e., body movements alone now sexually stimulated you. But the tit rings were even worse because they were so easy for others to reach - a simple twist by an onlooker and you were in agony; hooking a leash to a ring caused the nipple to excite and shivers of stimulation continually spread throughout your body as long as the leash tugged and pulled on your tit. It was, like a leash on your genital band, the perfect control device for any slave and ones a slave learned quickly to respond to with absolute subservience. To do otherwise led to pain that was unbelievable, and certainly intolerable.

After that, Julio, like all other incoming slaves, received a slave's standard brand of ownership - in his case an Italian state crest about 4" wide seared into the flesh of his left butt and his right pectoral. The brand was white hot when it was applied. Julio shuddered as he smelt his own flesh being fried and choked on his vomit as he passed out long before the brand was reapplied to his pectoral. When he came to, he found he was lying in a pool of his own vomit, piss, and shit - every cavity in his body had erupted in protest. But the processors were used to all this with incoming slaves - they simply hosed him off and the body wastes disappeared down a drain before applying an antiseptic balm to help the burn heal and keep any infections at bay.

The branding seared into more than Julio's flesh - it also seared into his mind that from this day forward he was a branded animal, owned by others, and that his body was totally at the disposal of those who owned him. Indeed, slave handlers all agreed that branding was far more important in "breaking" a slave to his new reality than it was marking a slave as property. The brand mark meant you could never claim you weren't owned property from then on, but more importantly, it psychologically altered you to where a slave didn't perceive of him or herself as anything but an owned property from then on.

There was always a demand for good slave overseers and free men, generally those poor in their school work, showing no technical acumen, and with little but a good body to recommend them, often signed up at one of many proprietary schools offering training programs leading toward state certification in this area. At the time of Julio's initial processing, a small class of ten such men, all lower class Italians who had failed at most everything else, were touring the state processing center as part of a series of mandatory field trips.

"Jesus Christ," one of the students exclaimed as he tried to cover his nose with a paper tissue. "That stinks worse than a pile of rotting garbage."

The other students all studied the vomit, shit and piss Julio was lying in as slave handlers, sliding around in the mess, even now were lifting him into position for another branding onto his right pectoral.

"There must be a better way of marking property nowadays than this," the exclaiming student announced, looking as if he were about to wretch himself.

"Oh, there is," the instructor calmly responded. "Tattooing, detector chips embedded into the body itself, notched ears - there are plenty of ways. But nothing has ever proved better than branding a property in the long haul. No one has found anything really better, quicker, or more efficient in changing behavior to that expected of a slave than the centuries old practice of good old fashion branding, despite the temporary mess it causes at the time," he added, looking at the shit all over the floor. "In that respect, branding is a time-tested method we still favor very much like the standard slave whip which is also quick, easy to use, and effective in bringing a property around to what is expected of a slave in today's world. Despite all the new advances in shock collars, electrified dildo implants, ball shockers, electric prods, etc., the truth is, they are all expensive, all require batteries which have to be replaced or recharged, all require remote controls which got lost or broken, and all are - well - just too easy to for you overseers to use - just push a button and a slave is writhing at your feet in unbelievable pain or screaming in agony as his nerves feel like they are burning up. The end result is a lot of slaves get over-punished to the point of diminishing their overall worth over time. For example, let's say this boy being branded was fitted with an electrified anal plug - after all they're reasonably cheap nowadays and easy enough to fit up a slave's chute. Any minor infraction from what you expect of the slave and it's easy enough to just push the button and zap them. The slave keels over in agony from being fried from the inside out and, true enough, his behavior, once he gets back on his feet, changes for the better and you're not likely to have any trouble again for a good long while. All that is good and proper and well worth the cost of the equipment and a few batteries now and then you say. But, hold on. What you may not realize at the time is that slave has some bad burns up his anal chute - those burns may get infected if we're not careful; those burns inside him make it practically impossible to fuck him without him passing out for a week or so; those burns often permanently destroy neural tissue so, over time, the electrified anal plug just doesn't cause much pain and hence loses its effectiveness. What do you do in that case? You just zap him longer and harder or up the amount of current. That works temporarily, but again, over time, you're just producing a slave immune to the shock - you've burnt up what made the slave respond to start with. And those burnt out slaves don't feel a thing when you fuck them - they're just zombies when they should be giving you the best pleasure you've ever known. It's even worse with the electric prods on their balls - over time, all you have are burnt-out numb balls and no response at all. AND! You've burnt out their ability to stud, to be a decent milk producer, to even get it up anymore."

The trainees looked surprised at this new information, thinking that modern technology was the answer to everything - including absolute control of a slave.

"Are you saying some of these modern things actually destroy the property's value over time?" one of the brighter boys in the trainee class asked.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, Bruce," the instructor said, happy that at least one of his students were assimilating the information he was giving them "Easy to push the button, but in doing so you are often destroying the very slave you are charged with getting maximum value from."

"Well, if we can't use some of these modern things, what can we use? You can't tell me a slave learns much without experiencing a little pain," a big, muscular trainee said, looking rather exasperated.

"Exactly, Bill. Slaves don't learn without pain, but there are many ways to administer instructional pain. And it, like branding new properties for their own good, goes back 5000 years at least and probably to the dawn of civilization. Anybody know what I'm referring to?"

The audience of trainees looked quizzical until finally a well muscled blond boy blurted out, "The whip?"

"Good thinking, Nathaniel. Of course it's the whip, around since the very beginning of taming animals, especially human animals. That good old reliable whip has been made of cowhide, rhino strips, embedded with bits of metal or thorn for added effectiveness, woven out of rope, even made out of slave hide itself. All of them worked and worked well - they all teach powerful lessons through the careful application of raw pain - but some of them really tore a slave's hide up and thus lowered the properties' value over time. A slave with his back and ass scarred with huge welts told a potential new owner that this slave needed a lot of an overseer's time and effort and may not be worth much. In a worse case scenario, the bull whip especially may have torn the slave's muscles and rendered him crippled for some heavy field work. A bull- whipped slave may have a nice change of attitude toward his owner, but who cares if you can't work him properly after that?"

"Is that why the Mylar whips are so popular now?" Nathaniel asked.

"Exactly, Nathaniel. Mylar, the miracle polymer as we like to call it in the slave trade, creates all the pain of a good bull whip but doesn't tear the slave's hide - oh, sometimes it tears the flesh beneath the hide, but nothing visible. It changes a slave's behavior just as fast and efficiently as the bull whip, without tearing the flesh off their bones and without all the blood the razor tipped whips cause."

"But isn't seeing some of their own blood beneficial for a slave to learn whose in control?" Bill asked.

"Good point, Bill," the instructor said. "And the answer is yes. Knowing an owner or his designated overseer can cover them with their own blood from a good beating IS a powerful lesson. But that's the glory of the Mylar whips - if you apply it really hard, you can get a nice bloody rump or back, but the lacerations are small and spider-like - they heal with no scars and in a month or so, you can't even tell from the slave's hide he was fairly recently beaten senseless."

"I've heard you can beat a slave where he's got permanent lacerations and bruises UNDER his skin, but where the hide itself has never been broken. Is that true?" Bruce asked.

"Bruce, that's true, fortunately. Those hidden lacerations and rather permanently swollen bruises, out of sight from a flawless hide on the slave, are what makes the slave's careful training last for years and years beyond the initial training period. If it weren't for that nice little phenonenon, we'd probably have slaves back for retraining every few years or so. As it is, there's enough permanent pain built into them under their hide so that the training is about as permanent as those lesions under their skin. I'm not saying the Mylar whips aren't just as painful and instructional as a good bull whip - it's just they don't destroy the properties value while we're training him or her properly."

"That slave being branded on his pec now. Aren't they going to trim him?"Bruce asked, obviously impressed with the slave's sizeable penis, now hidden somewhat by some thick foreskin hiding the crown.

"I'm sure they will - probably at the next processing station," the instructor said. He yelled out at one of the processors who nodded his head affirmatively. "Yes, he'll be clipped within just a few minutes so the healing time will match up with burns. A nice, revealing clip probably, in that the processor said this slave is tentatively designated for sex slave training."

"I can see why," Bruce said, licking his lips as he studied the unconscious slave being held in position by two handlers as again, the white hot brand was being directed toward his body, this time toward his right pectoral. "That's one handsome slave and hung like a damn horse - you don't see tackle like that too often."

"Why tentatively designated?" Bill asked, obviously in full agreement with Bruce as to the slave's sexual attractiveness. "If he's to be sold as a sex slave, so be it - and why not, looking like he does? What's tentative about it - his looks aren't going to change outside of a being clipped and a couple of ownership brands on him."

The instructor laughed as he too appreciated the fine looks of the slave being branded. "Well, Bill, for all we know he may be a dud in bed, he may not be able to get it up at all, he may be sexually unresponsive no matter how much they try to stimulate the bastard, you never know - you can't always go on looks alone, you know. But, odds are, he's a healthy 17-year-old boy under his collar and when the options are laid out before him - no draining of your balls unless you put your heart and soul into pleasuring your owner - he'll be begging to have his holes filled just like about every other slave put up for sale. If you boys didn't have slaves to take care of your needs whenever you wanted, you'd be fucking a dead tree every chance you got. That's why God put slaves on this earth, if nothing else," he laughed as he rubbed his crotch meaningfully, somewhat swollen from the turn of the discussion. "But, Bill, I'm with you. Unless this is a real freak we're looking at down there in processing, that slave will be spreading his legs and stretching his mouth wide open for anyone wanting to use him within a matter of months - and with a big smile on his face to boot."

"Jesus, I'd like to afford something like that for my own use," Nathaniel blurted out. "He wouldn't walk for a week after I first bought him," he added as he looked down at the swelling bulge pushing his pants out rather noticeably.

"You'll never afford anything like that on an overseer's salary," the instructor chortled. "I can swear to that first hand. That body's too rich to own for the likes of us, but that doesn't mean we can't use then hot and heavy when they're under our whip, no matter how short a time that may be. That's the biggest fringe benefit of being a slave overseer if you ask me - fucking the stock under your supervision. There's always plenty of nice firm ass and suctioning throats if you can keep your job as a good slave overseer. And no one charges you an extra penny for keeping the stock in practice' as they say."

"To hell with owning them - it's using them that really counts," Nathaniel stated. "That's why there's so little turnover in slave overseers once you get certified in my opinion. Who is going to leave a job where you can get your balls drained any way you want most any time you want and with all the variety you could want to pick from? Even those rich millionaire owners don't have the selection we have in who to bed down - everything from a hairy old mine slave to a smooth skinned young farm slave to a nice heavy hung warehouse slave to , I suppose, a well trained super-handsome sex slave every now and then."

"Well, in all honesty, I don't think those millionaire owners are going to miss a hairy old mine slave in their beds or even a work-worn sweaty warehouse slave, heavy hung or not. But, you're right, Nathaniel, we overseers probably do get to pick from a better variety of slaves to get off with - and whose to say what turns us on? Takes all types - not everyone in this world, monied or not, wants a pretty 17-year-old that's hung like a horse and looks like a model," again looking at the slave being branded and again, licking his lips in appreciation of the slave's appeal, at least to him.

With that conversation at an end, the trainees moved on to the classification room while Julio came to after a powerful hose was turned on to wash away all the shit and piss from his body and the attendants chained him into position on a metal operating table for his clipping by a staff member specialized in trimming foreskins in record time with few complications. Without anesthesia of any type, Julio had his abundant foreskin cut away, leaving his crown exposed in all its glory and done so trimly the prick would not only look pretty from now on, but would heal quickly, leaving only a nicely sculptured shaft fully exposed for his future life. There was blood, of course, but surprisingly little considering the amount of foreskin removed. Julio screamed from the acute pain, but compared to the pain of the branding - well, it just didn't compare.

While he was chained to the operation table, he was fitted with rings in both tits - the pain was much worse than the clipping, but he passed out again midway through the insertion of the first ring. When he came too moments later, both tits were in place permanently and a burning sensation spread throughout his body from his tits outward.

"Stop squalling," the slave doing the body modifications slapped Julio sharply while he was still chained in place. "In a week, you'll hardly know they are there, and in two weeks your brand scabs will have fallen off and your prick will feel as good as new and breathing a hell of a lot better without all that foreskin choking it off. You look like a slave, now, boy - branded, ringed, banded, collared and clipped - and when the trainers are through with you you'll not only look like a proper slave boy, you act just like a slave should. No doubt about it - training for slaves now if not only thorough and efficient - but, by God, it's permanent. There's no more going back to what you were than getting that collar off your neck. Makes life a lot easier for you overall."

All Julio could feel at the moment was raw pain. He wasn't interested in anything but getting some relief.

The slave attendant provided just that. Julio felt a soothing balm being applied to his two deep burns which almost instantly made for a cooling sensation. Next the attendant rubbed some of the same antiseptic balm around the inside of his genital band where he was already beginning to chaff, inside his neck collar where some abrasions were already occurring as he tried to learn how he could move his head without causing even more abrasions, and finally sprayed an aerosol of some type on his punctured tits which numbed them at least temporarily.

"Feel good, slave?" the handler asked.

"Yes, yes," Julio moaned.

Another sharp slap across his cheek brought him back to reality in that his head was jerked painfully against his neck collar.

"Yes, sir, you little bastard. A slave always responds to a slave in charge of him with the title of sir," slaveboy. And don't you ever forget that. And you respond to a freeman as master,' - always, even when they don't own you. Got that, slave?" the handler asked as he again backhanded the slave until his face was whipped the other way in his collar.

"Yes, .... master,.. No, I mean sir, sir," Julio managed to shutter out, bracing his head for another slap.

"Remember, anyone in charge of you, even if a slave like myself, is called sir.' Anyone not a slave, is called "master," the slave attendant repeated not unkindly as he took another aerosol can and sprayed Julio's cut prick thoroughly so that it was coated with antiseptic and painkillers. "That big prick of yours will be better than ever in a couple of weeks. A lot of people are going to play around with something that pretty," he predicted as he gently massaged Julio's balls which was one of the only parts of his body that didn't hurt right now.

Suddenly, the sound of a whip bitting into human flesh filled the room and the slave attendant jerked and then groaned as pain swept over his rump and up his body.

"No one gave you permission to play with the slaveboy," a commanding voice barked. "Get on with the next one, slave," as the whip once again smacked onto the slave's back this time, leaving him to jerk wildly in response to the intense pain.

"Yes, master," the attendant slave gasped, aware now he hadn't been given specific permission to fondle any part of the slave's body outside of the designated areas of modification. Catching his breath, he quickly released Julio's chains from the operating table and motioned for the next slave to take his place as his training clicked in and he promptly said, "Thank you for correcting me, master," in response to the whipping he had just received. "Shall I remind the cagemaster to whip me again tonight before being penned as a reminder of my transgressions?" the slave attendant asked in all sincerity.

"Yes," was the prompt reply. "Ten lashings with the Mylar whip should keep you from disappointing me again, slave."

"Yes, master. I'll be sure to tell the cagemaster to administer the needed incentive, master," the slave responded as tears of absolute dread rolled down his cheeks, well aware of the horrible pain he would be forced to endure with ten strokes of the dreaded Mylar whip on his back and rump. That night, he knew from bitter experience, he would be sleeping in a pool of his own blood running off his back while he reflected on how to be a better slave.

The tears in the slave's eyes made Julio feel guilty. Somehow he had caused this kind slave to suffer and he felt he should be taking the dreaded punishment rather than the slave attendant.

If Julio had only realized, he was rapidly shifting already into a slave's mindset - it wasn't the master's fault the attendant was being tortured, it was the slave's fault. All the master was doing was helping him become a better slave. It was the first of many subtle shifts in how Julio perceived his situation - all shifts his owners called proper adjustment' to his slavery. It was part of a process millions and millions had gone through over the years as they were turned from free men determining their own destiny to human animals here on earth to do the bidding of others. That process didn't take long anymore. And that process worked in practically every case. Especially in the case of Julio, who was only 17 - the younger you were when you were enslaved, the faster and better the process worked. Only bred slaves were quicker at adjusting than teenagers newly enslaved.

Chapter 4

JULIO IS CAGED WITH THE SLAVE JAB

Once branded, Julio was transported to a huge new facility some distance away. No one told him where he was going or where he was at now.

Julio was part of a class of 130 new slaves, 20 of which had been potentially selected as sex slaves. The other 110, once their basic slave training was completed, would be sold off as house boys, gardeners, chauffeurs, and yardboys or, if the minimum prices couldn't be met on the auction block, sold off in lots to the plantations, mines, construction firms, and manufacturing plants that simply consumed slaves by the tens of thousands. Those who ended up being sold in lots tended to be older, uglier, and poorly endowed although they were generally strong, quite muscular, and without serious defects of any type. Having relatively small sexual organs didn't mean they were undersexed, however, and since they were most often denied sexual outlets (most owners thought this drained their energy which should be devoted to their work assignments), they often appeared hard and dripping even when no sexual stimulus was within sight! Chained, ungroomed, unwashed, and usually showing hard made them look even more like animals than the general perception of draft slaves.

Due to the oversupply of slaves the particular day Julio was processed, there was a shortage of cages and consequently, like most others processed that day, Julio was jammed into a cage with another slave which was actually sized for a single slave. With two to a cage, there was barely room to turn around and it was impossible to avoid constantly touching the body of the other cage occupant, in this case an exceedingly handsome black slave about Julio's same age, same body size, same degree of handsomeness, and the same oversized sexual organs. Like Julio, the beautiful black slave had been branded, trimmed, collared, tit ringed, and banded that very day and, again like Julio, quickly discovered any little body movement set his lacerated tits aflame and the slightest swelling of his penis sent jolting pain throughout his lower body. Consequently, the black slave, like Julio, resented another slave in the same cage that only multiplied his misery every time his companion moved.

"Don't move, boy," the black muttered, sharply drawing in his breath as Julio inadvertently rubbed up against the black's tits.

"Sorry," Julio replied genuinely, well aware of how the slightest movement caused pain with the raw burns on butt and pecs, the perforated tits, and the open wound on their penises. "I'll try to stay as still as I can, but, shit, there's no room to even try to get comfortable. My name's Julio, by the way, if we're going to be forced to press against each other like this."

"Jab here," the black slave said. "You just get here, Julio?"

"Yeah - I never knew so much could happen to me in such as short time until I entered this place. Jesus! These bastards have done everything to my body except slice my balls off - and who knows when they might do that?" Julio responded as, unable to stop, he began sobbing, although even that movement caused his tits to smart all the more.

"I see they cut the best part of your prick off too - the part that gives you the best feeling when you fuck," Jab said, "and you've got those big rings in your tits just like me now - bastards! Still, I guess it could be worse. I'se brought in with 15 other blacks from Cleveland, Ohio and three in my group put up quite a ruckus when they started to body shave us and - you know what they did to those acting up a bit? They... they... " Jab broke into tears ... "they cut off their balls - right in front of the rest of us and ..... they.. never hesitated or nothing.... just cut their balls off...as if it was just routine... Those boys," Jab's crying broke into sobbing... "lost their manhood just like that... they'll never be men again... just a castrated animal like a dog or a horse or something." Jeb paused and just cried, caught up in the enormity of what had been done to his colleagues. "Bastards!" he sputtered out between his sobs.

"You're from Cleveland - in America?" Julio asked.

"Yep! Cleveland, Ohio. The PO-lice rounded up 15 of us who were caught in a strip shop that took stolen cars and broke them down for parts. We'se been doing it for 15 months - those stupid coppers - before they caught us and that was just pure luck on their part. Hauled us into court and the judge saw a way to add to the city coffers - sentenced every one of us nigger boys to slavery and sold us off to the high bidder among the dealers that always hang around outside the courts to buy up the day's catch. Next thing we knew we were chained in the hold of an old air freighter and ended up in this hell hole, wherever it is. Every single one of us, even those three boys nutted, now got rings in their tits, a collar around their neck, and their pricks trimmed if they hadn't been already and, can you believe it, that metal thing around our manhood that juts it out so no one could miss taking notice - you could say we look like a walking porn movie we're so damn obvious sticking out like that. Jesus, they're treating us as if we were just fucking animals." Jab started crying again with the tears pouring down his cheeks."Who gave these fuckers the right to treat us like this?"

"Jab, we're slaves now. All of us down here jammed in these cages are slaves now. I'm sure they had plenty of slaves in the States just like we did in Italy. Surely that Cleveland or wherever you came from had slaves."

"Well, sure," Jab said. "But no one where I lived could ever afford one."

"But I'm sure you saw them in work gangs and with their owners out on the streets," Julio said. "If it's like Italy where I was raised, you couldn't help but notice them. There's more slaves than free men where I come from anymore."

"Yeah," Jab said. "Plenty of slaves in Cleveland, like you say. Butt naked in the summer and with collars around their neck - couldn't miss them.... uh."

Jab stopped mid-sentence as he was about to continue and then a new round of tears rolled down his cheeks.

"What's wrong, Jab," Julio said sympathetically, not sure what has led to this new round of crying.

"Back in Cleveland... They....... they fucked those slaves right out on the streets in front of everyone..... and..... those slaves sucked them off anytime their owners wanted... right in front of everyone.... " Jab sobbed.. "They don't do that to slaves in Italy or wherever you're from, do they, Julio?"

"Indeed they do, Jab. I imagine they do that wherever they sell slaves. That's one of the big benefits of owning a slave, Jab, if you just think about it a bit. Sex when you want it however you want it. Tell me, Jab. If you were able to buy a nice looking slaveboy, wouldn't you have him suck you off once in a while and poke his ass when you felt like it? I can't imagine a person lucky enough to buy a slave NOT indulging himself a little now and then. I know I would if I wasn't a slave myself and had all the lira it takes to buy a slave. I'd buy the best looking slave I could get for the money and start enjoying myself, Jab."

Jab was silent for a long time as his crying continued. He never said another word until, exhausted, he got his body as comfortable as he could in the crowded cage, slumping down into a fetal position despite the almost total body contact with his cage mate. Julio did the same, spooned up against the black boy's body positioned so that the tits and prick were as little irritated as possible. Within minutes, both new slaves were sound asleep, worn out from all that had happened that day.

"No use stretching their asses with a dildo tonight," the cagemaster laughed to his assistant, who was carrying a huge supply of greased dildos in his arms. "They're already zonked out and I don't want the bother of waking them up and getting them out of the cage to fit a big one in them. We can get to all that in the coming days," he laughed as his assistant quickly moved to the next cage where the two slaves, already there for over a week, knew what was coming and had several days ago decided it was easier to get plugged every night, no matter how much it hurt, than to feel the whip over their backside and not get fed for 24 hours. Besides, what good did it do? After the whip had lacerated their rump, they still got a plug up them for the night - only it was an even bigger one than the handlers had planned originally. Within minutes, the two slaves had wiggled out of their cage, positioned themselves with their butts raised and their legs as far apart as possible, and groaned as the assistant literally screwed the huge plugs up their open holes until, finally, the bulbous end of the plug was completely in them and their anal sphincter has closed around it, insuring it would stay there for the night, stretching and massaging their ass chute with each movement of their body. It was an ingenious device, both slaves plugged thought to themselves as they worried about being split wide open. Once in, you couldn't expel it by yourself no matter how much you churned your ass muscles and, once in, you literally fucked yourself with each small movement of your body. Even crawling back into the cage with the whip on their butt felt like a telephone pole was being rammed in and out of them. They could see where a week of "dildo training" as the handlers called it would "open you up" and would make a master fucking you seem like nothing in comparison since most any master would be smaller than these monsters jammed up them.

Before the cagemaster and his assistant had completed their rounds, all but Jab and Julio, the most recent arrivals in this section of the holding pens, had their ass chutes filled to brimming - over 200 just in this section alone. Jab and Julio had no idea at this point of the enormity of the slave holding facility they had been shipped to. The Bazaar had over 10,000 slaves in one stage or another of processing; another 56,000 in basic training; another 41.000 in specialized training of one type or another; and 12,000 who were now completely trained, in sales preparation. An additional 9200 had been sold just that day and were in holding pens awaiting shipment to their new owner.

This didn't count the 1900 who had been sold that day and who had left immediately after sale leashed by their new owner. Of that 1900, almost all of them were in the throes of being fucked at that moment or were catching their breath from having been fucked - either up their butt or down their throat or, for many, fucking their new mistress or a master who liked to be ridden rather than do the riding. Not one of these 1900 had been marketed as sex slaves (Julio and Jab were the first to be trained in that classification at the new facility) - many of them were sold as draft slaves, but whoever bought them found them attractive enough for their purposes. After all, not every owner demanded a near perfect body with a handsome face and prodigious equipment and exact training - there were plenty of masters and mistresses who appreciated a masculine looking body, an interesting young face, and quick to arouse more than adequate sexual organs. To those owners, it was like buying two slaves for the price of one: one to work like a horse all day long, with that same slave servicing you in your bed that night.

Julio and Jab knew nothing of all this as of yet as they slept away jammed in their tiny cage. When their body healed from the branding, modifications, and fitting; when they had a chance to communicate with those caged around them; when they heard what their trainers had to say; and as the trainers thoroughly explained their new status in life, then their naivete would melt away and changing their attitudes, behavior, and emotions to handle their new life as owned property would really begin.

Like all the others caged around the, within a month they would be cooperating with their handlers in anything asked of them; within two months, they would view themselves as the property they were now; within three months, they would view themselves as what they actually were: animals, there to do the bidding of whoever bought them. Within four months, they couldn't envision life without constant direction or where there was any will outside of your owner's. By that time, there was no difference between slaves broken to slavery and slaves bred to slavery.

Slaves were a different species than free people - a slave lived for his master's pleasure; a slave's purpose was to bring his master pride of ownership; a slave's goal was to anticipate his master's every wish before it was even expressed and meet that wish with everything the slave had at his disposal; and, finally, a slave's value was actually determined by what he could bring on the auction block, but his fate was determined by his master's whims. At any point, if he disappointed his owner in any way, he could be sold off, killed on the spot, sent to a rendering plant, have his organs removed for what they would bring on the market, given away as a capricious gift, tortured for the amusement of others, or sent to a correctional retraining school' where death would be preferable. Once a slave understood that (and it only took from a few days up to a few months at most) and their behavior and attitude changed accordingly, they were ready for sale at the Bazaar. In almost all cases, the change due to the training' was permanent. "Once a slave, always a slave" was true in every society in the world now (manumission was illegal everywhere). Slavery was as permanent as the brand on your butt and the welded collar around your neck. But, most important, was the internal change in the animal that had been trained. When you thought of yourself as a slave - an owned animal like any other property - you WERE a slave - forever. Every society in the world now supported that viewpoint, so slaves were constantly reinforced in that view no matter how lenient a master happened to buy them. No wonder the Bazaar was so huge and growing daily. No wonder slavery was the biggest growth industry in the entire world.

Jab and Julio were two tiny parts of a system so vast it was unfathomable to them in its scope. The handsome Italian teenager out on a drinking spree and the well built black street thug from Cleveland were like two grains of sand in an entire beach. Little did they know at this point, but Julio would end up as the opening sale for a sex slave in the Bazaar after two long years of training that, like his body, led to perfection. Julio would be Sale #1 after the Bazaar's OFFICIAL opening, an honored position any slave would envy although there had been thousands of sales of draft slaves long before the official opening just to clear out the overcrowded pens). Jab would be on the block at the Bazaar as Sale #2, his magnificent black body being billed as the best trained and best honed piece of black flesh to every be offered at public auction.

Julio sold for 1.22 million, far beyond what even the Bazaar's marketing experts had expected, purchased as a gift for an Arab prince who wanted a handsome Italian for his personal harem.

Jab sold for even more - 1.256 million - since he had learned the trick of ejaculating on verbal command only (with no manual stimulation of his sex organs necessary) - and, with the command, had spewed a huge load from his quivering erect 11" thick prick far out into the sales audience with a huge smile on his face. He had been bought by a company that specialized in providing the best the markets had to offer to corporations wanting to entertain a promising customer, a client that had turned a contract their way, or loaned to a lobbyist who needed a good bribe to sway a vote in their favor.

Comments and feedback are vital to keep an author active and contributing. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)