THE BAZAAR
by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
Chapter 6
TEN TONS OF BLACK MEAT: BULK BUYING AT THE BAZAAR
It was the two Australian buyers' first trip to the fabulous new Bazaar. They had heard about it, of course, but now, seeing it in person, they still couldn't believe it. Its sheer magnitude, its air of upmost efficiency, its sparkling cleanliness, and, most of all, its huge array of stock was simply overwhelming. Right now, the two, Chad and Bill Williams, brothers only a year apart, were in the draft slave department where most stock were sold either in lots of 50 or by total weight. That way you could buy an inclusive fixed lot of 50 (which might include most of anything but all were guaranteed in good health with no known defect, workable under the whip, and biddable having successfully finished their basic slave training) or in tonnage lots where you bought the livestock by the pound in two, four, or six ton lots (where you picked out the individuals for each lot yourself and simply bought them wholesale in weighed lots). With the weighed lots, you could pick out anything you wanted, e.g., all of a given color, all of a given height, all of a given physique type, all of a given nationality or ethnic group, or mixed however you wished.
The Bazaar had so much stock on hand it was easy to make up lots of your own if you preferred. That's exactly what Chad and Bill Williams wanted to do. They had flown over from their copper mine in a barren region of Northwest Australian where it was hot a good deal of the time, totally barren as you expect in areas with so little rainfall, and where stock just didn't last too long under the harsh conditions.
Hired help was out of the question. The Williams had quickly learned that no one would work the mine if there was any choice at all. They had started in the copper business incredibly naive.
First, they had hired on men who looked sturdy and eager. But within two weeks, they realized this wasn't working. By seven days, the men were quitting in droves despite the exceptionally good wages they were paying, not counting the great fringe benefits (such as fully paid health insurance, each work week granting you a full week's vacation time, and meals and bunkhouses thrown in free). The wages per working hour were astronomical due to all the paid time off and the free room and board so even the most conservative estimates put it at $105 per hour, a good $65 an hour higher than their competitors in other countries.
Within a month, they were left with only one-fourth of their work force who were demanding even higher wages with few replacements on hand. They had been forced to raise the price of their copper ingots 25% above their competitors just to break even so new orders for their product had practically ceased. Within six weeks from when they started, they laid the few remaining workers off and took stock of this disaster.
The Williams brothers decided to study how their competitors were staying in business before putting any more into their own venture. Putting up a "Temporarily Closed" sign, they took off for another company, Australian Copper,' not 300 miles away in Western Australia who had a backlog of orders - small surprise since they were charging 38% percent less than the Williams for exactly the same product.
Australian Copper' had a payroll of eight, total: the plant manager, a chief engineer, and 6 overseers. All were well paid and with the usual fabulous fringe benefits the Williams' themselves had utilized. But they had 450 other workers on hand (again about the same number the Williams had tried to hire). But those 450 were paid no wages, were cheap to feed (they ate only a simple dry chow twice a day), were at their assigned work 15 hours every day seven days a week with no vacation times ever, packed into tar-paper bunkhouses to sleep, eat, shit and shower 9 hours a day, and cost nothing to clothe since the only clothing was a neck collar, ankle shackles and, now and then, nose, nipple, or penis rings for those benefitting from extra control devices. Best of all, these workers had no options: they had no right to quit, no right to demand a transfer, no way to obtain a vacation, and the only retirement program in place was death on the job or sale to a rendering plant.
Some people called it permanent indentured labor;' Australian Copper called it by its old- fashioned and simpler name: slavery.' The advantages were obvious. The disadvantage was, of course, the cost of buying the slaves to start with - a huge capital investment up-front.
The Williams quickly found out Australian Copper' paid for stock before company's logo was burnt into the first butt and a heavy collar welded around a slave's neck. Mortgaging your labor meant big interest payments on top of the actual costs of the slaves and that interest had to ultimately be passed on to the customers, thereby driving up the final cost.
"That's why National Copper' went under," Australian Copper's plant manager explained to Chad and Bill. "Their slaves were good sturdy stock, but they were paying 12% interest to the blood-sucking banks on every single slave they had chained to a shackle, and you can't make any money paying 12%, believe you me. If you can't afford the up-front purchase price, you can't afford to be in the copper business - it's just too competitive to ever think you can extract copper with mortgaged animals - I don't care how much whip you put on their backs. The only way you can make it in this business is using slave labor - but I don't need to tell you that - you've already found that out for yourself. N obody that's got one option left in their life is going to work in the copper fields and, for the short time until they opt to leave, they'll drive you bankrupt with what they're costing you. Slaves don't have any choices in what they do, where they do it, or how long they do it - that's up to whoever buys them and, in this business, that's the only way you're going to get that copper out of the ground at a price anyone will pay. Second, slaves have to be worked long and hard to get your money out of them. That means you've got to have plenty of slave
handlers' to drive them hard and, over those handlers, overseers that find just the right balance between working a slave as hard as you can but just short of injuring them or wearing them out prematurely. A good sturdy slave starting out young will last 20, even 25, years in the mines if you feed them well, don't overwork them, use the new Mylar whips that hurt like hell but don't tear them up, don't allow the slave handlers to whip them just for the fun or it, give them what they need if they're sick or injured, and let them fuck each other in the barracks on their own time. Even a slave needs a little sex now and then just to keep morale up - doesn't matter what kind - fucking each other keeps them satisfied as well as any woman once they get used to it. And nobody gets knocked up in the process," he laughed. "By the way, I'm Devin Smith."
"We're grateful for your help, Mr. Smith," Chad said.
"Devin, just Devin," the plant manager thrust his hand out to shake.
"We had some quit on us because they couldn't get any pussy as they put it, Devin," Chad said rather bitterly. "They demanded we give them whores every night as yet another fringe benefit."
"You should have told them to fuck each other if they were so hard up," the plant manager chuckled. "We just tell our slaves up front to fuck each other. If they don't want to, fine - beat off every night - we don't give a shit. But most slaves who've been slaves any time at all know that already. They're pleased as punch we allow them to relief themselves now and then - a lot of owner don't, you know."
"They don't? Why not?" Bill asked.
Devin explained. "Oh, they claim draining their seed takes energy away better spent in their work. It probably does expend a little energy dumping your seed, but it sure relieves a lot of tension that is as likely to end up having to be whipped out of them as it would adding to their total work output. Seems to me, you can work better if you're not tied up in knots sexually all the time - you know - hard and dripping every single moment like you see so many slaves nowadays where the owners won't let them have any relief. What's the point? Maybe a little more work - maybe - but you know yourselves the mess it is with those slaves dripping all over themselves and each other all the time and spurting off inadvertently ever time they even rub up against a post or a wagon, let alone a slave hitched next to them. Big gooey mess and for what?"
"Seems to me a slave would consider himself lucky being owned by Australian Copper with its liberal livestock policies if they'd ever been owned by a company that didn't allow sexual relief," Chad commented on the previous discourse.
"Damn right," the plant manager chuckled. "They're grateful as hell and after a good night in the barracks emptying their balls at long last, they're as content as a kitten. You can just see the gratitude in their eyes - even after the first full night here," he added.
"I know Chad and I would be," Bill chuckled, unconsciously reaching down and rubbing the package in his tight jeans a little. "Slaves have drives, like all animals, even if they're not quite human."
"Slaves don't attach emotion to sex like humans," the plant manager explained. "To them, sex is just that - sex and the relief of having your balls drained. They don't attach love to it like humans - that's why they can couple with anything in the barns and be happy with it - they don't give a damn whether they're black or white, young or old, Asian or European, pretty or ugly. As long as they can dump their load, they're content. No different than a horse or dog in that regard. That's the big reason slaves are so easy to breed.
"Really," Devin Smith went on, "the only difference between a slave and other animals is they can talk if they haven't had their tongue torn out yet, and they can reason better than most horses and some dogs - but their smarts vary a lot and in general, in my opinion, are vastly overrated. Although there are a few slaves probably as smart as their masters, they're few and far between. I'd say the average slave is between a horse and a man in mental capacity, but in endurance, a slave beats out a horse any day on the average. And pound for pound, they're about a strong as any animal, taking weight-to-power ratios into account.
"As you two know, you could mine copper using mechanical equipment. But you figure in the cost of the equipment, the high maintenance costs once you have it, how quick the equipment wears out and has to be replaced, the costs of the fuel which seems to go up each day, and the fact you still need workers to run the equipment, it doesn't take an accountant to figure out you can mine it by hand a hell of a lot cheaper with slaves. Add to that the fact slave prices remain remarkably stable thanks to the rate at which the breeding farms are churning them out nowadays, that slaves are recyclable which pleases the ecology folks (worn out slaves are even part of slave food nowadays, not counting their usable organs and the uses their tanned hides can be put to), and there's no way Caterpillar or Mitsubishi can prove their equipment pays off over the long haul. Especially since almost all slave supervision is done by slaves themselves now. Slave handlers who are slaves themselves is one of the best ideas yet. Those slave handlers know they'll be put into the working gangs themselves the minute they let up lashing the most out of the bodies under their whip - all the while making sure none of the owner's property is damaged
short or long term in the process. Slave handling is an art, I tell you, and no one seems better able to manage it than a slave who has been under a handler's whip himself."
Chad and Bill found the plant manager a veritable font of information in how to be successful in contemporary copper mining and listened carefully to every word out of his mouth. The visit to a competitor was turning out to be the best thing they had ever done.
Devin Smith didn't get a chance very often to talk to outsiders. Having found an eager audience, he was just beginning to share his knowledge.
"Here we let the handlers pick out who they want to fuck at night as a special bonus - only the handlers get to pick and choose their sex partners from anyone in their work gangs. Who wouldn't want a deal like that if you were a slave? Yessiree, we don't have to worry about them doing their jobs with special privileges like that! Why, we even let them fuck a slave of their choice during the midmorning and afternoon watering breaks if they've exceeded their production goals up to the point."
"Right in front of everyone?" Bill asked, obviously somewhat surprised.
"Well, yes," the plant manager looked somewhat puzzled. "Who in the hell would care about that? Slaves can't afford to be modest," he laughed, "and the few free folks here could care less.
"Are you the type that throws a pail of water on two dogs fucking out in the street because it embarrasses you?" he chortled. "If so, you better make sure you're not around slaves very much - hell, they're fucking a lamp post right in front of you if you don't have your whip out handy. Slaves are no different than any other animal in that regard," he chuckled.
"We had a visitor here once from Spain, I think it was, that suggested we clothe the slaves. When I asked him why in God's name we would do that in that clothes cost money and eventually have to be laundered, he simply said it was the decent thing to do because slaves were human after all and as humans, deserved to have at least their genitals covered.
"Well, it took every ounce of politeness in us to not break down laughing once we got out of shock at his stupidity, and asked him where he got the idea slaves were the same as humans. He answered - now get this - because slaves not bred to it had been free humans before they were enslaved and that meant they were still human. When we explained that when a free man was enslaved, he lost his humanness and became an animal and that was the way a slave was viewed by all thinking people in every society in the world. Certainly legally and economically, slaves were universally commodities no different than any other animal. If he didn't realize that simple fact, he was really out of it. Ask any slave, I told him, and see what they say about it.
"Well, a few days later, he came back and said he had asked some slaves owned by his own company about it, and they all agreed with me. He apologized for his stupidity and thanked me for the insight I gave him.
"Later he wrote me a thank you letter, and said he was a much better manager of slaves now that he could see them for what they were - thanks to his visit here. He explained that almost all of the slaves he dealt with had been enslaved during their late teens or early adulthood and their origins had confused him.
"I wrote him back and said I was glad he had learned from his visit here, but his confusion would be almost historical in that in a generation or so, almost all slaves would be bred to it anyway which would resolve the question once and forever. Certainly a bred slave was an animal - no one could get confused on that - they were bred like any other animal and what was bred was certainly an animal. Case closed!"
"While we're on the topic," Chad pipped up, "what animals are best for copper mining? I've heard Asian slaves last forever no matter how much work you put to them and you can feed them anything. But others claim you can't beat East European slaves for sheer stamina and longevity. And then, of course, there are those who claim black slaves are stronger and more enduring, and still others who claim that white slaves, even though they often look kind of puny, really outlast the others and are the best value for the money. I suppose a large part of it depends on what you use them for."
"It does," the plant manager responded, "but for copper mining, which invariably takes place in nature's natural hell holes with terrible temperatures, dust everywhere, a scorching sun most of the time, and heavy demands on an animal's muscle and lungs, I recommend the blacks - especially blacks from Africa itself. The sun doesn't burn them up, they've got the muscle for it (or they seem to quickly develop it), they can take a steady whip without too much damage, and, although they eat you out of house and home, the feeds cheap enough and so is the huge amount of water they take in. Besides all that, they're the most disease resistant. Must be that germ-ridden place they come from originally - they've built up a natural immunity to most of the deliberating diseases. The whites are the worst when it comes to getting laid up due to malaria, shingles, vitamin deficiencies, and even cancer. Keep AIDS out of your black herd by screening them to start with, feed them plenty, give them all they want to drink, let them drain their balls regularly, and you'll have little trouble with them once they've been broken to the whip. We've found most Asians don't hold up over time (although the Chinese seem to be an exception to this), the East Europeans are too disease prone and, like other whites, can't take the sun and heat no matter how much they tan, and American blacks have lost some of their natural disease resistance over the generations, although they still hold up better in the mines than most whites. Polynesians and South American Indians aren't worth their shipping cost here," the plant manager spat in disgust. "Generally die within a year they're so damn puny. But why anyone would buy them to start with is beyond me - malnourished from birth, you wouldn't expect much in putting them to any serious work seems like to me."
"So you'd strongly recommend African blacks all things being equal," Chad replied, happy for the knowledge, "with Asians a second choice way down the ladder."
"You got it, Chad," the plant manager smiled. "Except I'd take American Blacks any day over Asians as a second choice."
"Thanks," Chad replied genuinely. "I'll remember that."
"OK," Bill chimed in. "Slaves only for the work - no hired help - no mortgaged stock - and when we're buying, try for the African blacks."
"Yeah," the plant manager said. "And buy them up when they're full grown but just that - 17 or 18 if you can get them. That way, they'll last you until they're well into their 40s if you feed them plenty, let them rest properly, let them get off at least once a day, and don't let some overzealous handler whip them to death. Twenty-five years of productivity is your goal with still something left to sell to the rendering plants - some functioning organs, a hide not too scarred up, and enough meat on the bone to recycle into that tasty little secret ingredient in slave chow."
"With all that, we'll get our up-front investment back out of them and then some?" Chad asked.
"More than just some," the plant manager chuckled. "If you get a good price on them - buying them by the lot, mind you, you should be able to pay your investment in them off in three years at current prices. After that, it's pure profit! And that, my friends, is how you compete in this dynamic world of mining copper and end up rich."
"No wonder we didn't make a go of it, Bill," Chad said sadly. "We went into this not knowing shit about it. If we had studied up a bit before, we could have saved ourselves a bundle of money and a lot of sweat and agony."
"Anyone can make real money mining copper if you know how to do it," the plant manager added sagely. "Me? I plan to retire by fifty and be able to do anything I ever wanted. You can too if you follow my advice and stick to it."
"That, we'll do, m' friend" both Bill and Chad promised at once. "We've made our mistakes and hopefully learned from them."
"One final question and we'll let you get back to your work, Devin," Bill promised.
"Shoot!" the plant manager smiled.
"Where do we buy up these African wonders you suggest?"
"That's the easiest question you've asked me," the manager grinned. "There's only one place I'd recommend with no reservations. The Bazaar."
"The Bazaar? Where's it at?" Chad asked.
"You are naive, boy," the manager chuckled. "I'm talking about the biggest market in the world - in Alexandria, Egypt. Just opened not too long ago and already has the best selection in the world as well as the best value. You won't find a better price anywhere on African blacks (or anything else you're looking for) than at the Bazaar. And they do everything for you, shipping them here to Australia, fitting them out with collars and whatever you want, changing currency, getting the proper paperwork in your hand - you name it, they do it. There, you can buy lots of draft slaves two different ways: you can buy 50 African blacks in a mixed lot if you wish - what you'll get are slaves within an age range, mixed looks and builds, etc. for a damn good price - or you can buy them by the ton picking them out yourself - any color, any age, any physique, what have you - out of the stock being sold as draft slaves. All the draft slaves are penned in one huge facility, so you're not going to make the mistake of picking out an expensive handsome perfectly- trained pleasure slave or a boy trained for office duties. No! You'll be limited to uneducated stock being sold for their labor only - not their sexual charms, not their learned skills, nor anything else but pure muscle. You can buy them up in 2, 4, or 6 ton lots or, I suppose, 10 tons if you need that many. I'd suggest buying no less than 4 tons of black muscle between 16 and 23 years old who look healthy, have a guarantee as to being disease free, and have plenty of muscle on them. Forget about whether they're pretty or ugly, short or tall, coal black or just dark brown. It doesn't matter in the mines. If you want someone pretty for your bed, you can go over several blocks to some other pens and you'll be amazed at what's available."
"We may do that too," Chad laughed, "but your advice has been invaluable. How can we ever pay you back for all this help?"
"Well......" the plant manager got a glint in his eye. "If you're going to fly all the way over to Egypt soon, as I suspect you will within the week, you could bring me back a handsome boy no more than 17 or so who has been schooled precisely in how to keep a man happy in the barren outback of Australia. You'll need to go to the pleasure slave pens to find something like that, though and it will cost you about five times as much as a given draft slave."
"Do you buy these pleasure boys by the pound too?" Chad asked.
"No, they're sold at auction no matter how much they weigh," the plant manager laughed, "but well worth it."
"Well, if I know my brother, we'll be going to the pens of the pleasure slaves anyway," Bill joked. "So I can guarantee you we'll keep our eye open for our good friend at Australian Copper. But, tell me Devin, if we buy a pleasure slave for you and one for each of us, do you get a discount on buying three at once?"
"Yeap," the plant manager said. "But you need to negotiate it - you know these Arab merchants! But, that way, your little remembrance won't cost you as much!" he chortled.
"You have any color preferences?" Chad asked practically.
"Yeap again," the plant manager replied. "Smooth brown with black eyes, long eye lashes, wavy or kinky hair, thin lips, narrow nose and a big, big package on a muscular shaved body - not a day over 17 or so."
"That I'll remember," Chad replied. "That's exactly what I would buy for myself."
"Thanks again, m'friend," Bill and Chad both said and, having the exact information they hoped to get from the visit, promptly left.
"Don't forget the remembrance," the plant manager laughed as he waved goodbye as they got into their car.
"If we do, we'll share ours with you," Bill laughed.
"After all this information, you can do better than share a slut," the plant manager laughed again. "Remember, smooth black with a big package."
Got it!" Chad yelled back as they sped away. "G'Day"
Just as Devin Smith, the Plant Manager, had predicted, Bill and Chad were in Alexandria within the week looking over the draft slaves available by the lot. Without hesitation, they limited themselves to African blacks picked individually without regard to skin shade, size of their sexual organs, whether they were pretty or ugly, or their overall height. Instead, they chose the sturdiest looking, the best musculatures, and those that reeked of good health. They insisted on certificates of health indicating they had been inspected and were disease free. They also looked for those who didn't resist personal and very thorough bodily inspections as a sign of their being broken to their slavery, and their eagerness to be sold (even if it was to get out of the pens where they had been held for some time). In no time at all, due to the huge selection available, they had 10 tons of slavemeat selected (just short of 100 slaves altogether). Buying in a ten ton lot, they got a great discounted price.
Since they got the needed labor force under their budget, they had plenty of cash left over to buy the three pleasure slaves they had in mind: one for each of them and one for their sagacious friend at Australian Copper.
Again, the selection was overwhelming, allowing them to quickly buy a smooth skinned muscular brown boy, just 17 but very well trained, who was hairless below his eyebrows, had long black eyelashes above huge black eyes, and short-cut kinky black hair. He featured very thin lips (almost purple), a thin nose, high cheekbones, and little to no facial hair. By anyone's perception, he would be labeled handsome and his package was simply awesome - the stuff of legends - and, to top it all off - he was very quickly aroused, had a huge discharge of thick, sweet-tasting cum, and a nice, well-trained asshole which was still nice and tight. He was the perfect pick for their friend.
The second selection, made almost as quickly due to the huge selection and the ease of access to the available stock, was a clone of their first purchase - in fact, it turned out their second purchase was his half- brother, just one year older and who had already gained experience from a previous owner right there in Egypt. Chad loved the fact he had considerable experience by this time in pleasing an owner and seemed eager to do the same for a new master. He was being marketed simply because his previous owner had died of a heart attack while fucking him and his estate was now being settled - disposal of his slaves was a first step. Both this boy and his half-brother (already purchased by us) were from the same breeding farm and both shared the same sire, a noted stud in pleasure slave circles.
The third selection was for Bill who wanted a blond boy in his early 20s who had huge muscular pecs, a thin waist, a substantial but not freakish prick, and little body hair. Within minutes, they found a 23-year- old blond with blue eyes who had long fine hair flowing down to his shoulders, big ringed tits atop huge muscular pecs, a tightly muscled waist, and a nice circumcised prick about 6x3" flaccid which was well shaped and about the same diameter throughout its length. He had been genitally banded with a thick 1" aluminum band which made what he had display quite prominently which didn't seem to bother him in the slightest (obviously he had gotten used to displaying his sexual organs like this some time ago). The other feature that was attractive was a matching aluminum collar around his neck which was tall enough to force his head into a constant upright position thus showing off his very handsome facial features and his beautiful blue eyes, which he kept subserviently cast downward most of the time. When bent over to inspect his hole, it had been shaved smooth and was well lubed and the slave moaned almost passionately with you stuck a finger up his hole as far as possible and you could feel him tighten his ass muscles around your finger(s) once they were all the way up his chute.
Without hesitation, he was purchased and shackled by his ankle to the other two pleasure slaves. Within minutes, they had been flushed out, freshly bathed and oiled, placed in shipping crates, and were in the process of being shipping to their new master's home base in Australia.
By the time Bill and Chad Williams arrived at the Bazaar's own airport for their flight home that very same day, they saw a team of naked work slaves hefting their newly purchased merchandise (now heavily drugged) into the plane's cargo compartment cage by cage (they were jammed 6 to a single cage for economical shipment). They also spotted their three pleasure slaves, now packed into three single shipping crates, being shoved into a smaller freight area further up on the plane where more valuable goods were placed. They too had been purged of all waste matter, drugged, and, like the draft slaves, had water bottles attached to their cage if and when they woke up. The Bazaar's shipping agents seemed to know exactly what they were doing to make sure all purchased goods arrived at their new home in as good a shape as possible. The Bazaar had given the two owners a complete guide on how to handle the new properties upon their arrival, i.e., feeding, cleansing them inside and out, and estimated time for full recovery before their intended usage.
When Bill and Chad arrived home after the long, long flight, they again witnessed the purchased goods being unloaded and placed into trucks for delivery to either the pens at the mine itself (for the draft slaves) or the pens at their home (for the three purchased pleasure slaves). Already they had sent instructions to their mine manager as well as to their house steward on how to cage, feed, and clean the new animals. As soon as they had a good sleep to recover from the flight, they were going to try out their own new pleasure slaves. Following that, they were going to sample the pleasures the gift' slave could offer them before eventually delivering this new commodity to their friend at Australian Copper who they were sure would put the slave to very heavy use once he was handled over to his new master.
Within two weeks, a delivery truck rolled into Australian Copper with a single slave cage in the back. When Devin Smith saw the gleaming brown skin and the exceptionally handsome face peering through the cage bars, he knew what it was. Once the new slave had been unloaded and was out of his cage, the well- hung boy promptly put his hands in back of his collared neck, placed his legs far apart, and thrust his banded genitals out for full display and easy handling. Attached to one of his tit rings was a small thank you note.
Handwritten on the note was the following:
Devin,
Thanks for your great advice. We've been to The Bazaar and bought 10 tons of black meat along with a pleasure boy for each of us. Here's yours! Enjoy for years to come this small token of our appreciation. Gratefully, your friends,
Chad & Bill
P.S. Ownership papers and certificate of health are in the envelope fastened
to the cage.
Comments always appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)