THE BAZAAR
by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
Chapter 10
A RANCHER BUYS BILL'S BLOND PLEASURE SLAVE
The beat-up Cessna came down to a jerky landing on the airstrip of Williams Copper Mines. Once it had taxied up to the company headquarters, a rather handsome but rough looking man in his late 40s or early 50s stepped out on the plane's wing and jumped down, waved, and then walked briskly to the building's entry.
"I'm John Ledgerwood, the bloke that called you about the slave you've put up for sale. I'm good for my bid if the property meets the description you posted on the internet."
"Thanks for coming over. I'm Bill Williams, co-owner of Williams Copper, and I'm the one selling the merchandise if the price is right."
"Oh, the price will be right if the slave's everything you described. But, Bill, you can't blame a man for wanting to look a slave over before he parts with money like that."
"You'd be a fool to do otherwise, John, but I don't think you'll be disappointed. Come on upstairs to my living quarters and you can use the john while I fix you a drink and then we can get down to business."
"Your sale item kept in your quarters?" John Ledgerwood asked.
"Safe and sound and ready to be inspected," Bill laughed. "What's your drink?"
"Jack Daniels and Coca-Cola - half and half, and if you don't have that handy, a Fosters will do fine."
"A true Assie," Bill chuckled. "I've got the Fosters but I'm temporarily out of Jack Daniels."
"A Fosters, then, right in the can."
As the two walked up the steps, Mr. Ledgerwood got right down to business.
"That old Cessna is like a horse to me, Bill. You see, I live way out on a sheep ranch about 50 miles north of Perth - nothing out there much but sheep, my four boys, my girl, and myself. My misses died about five years back and it's been tough raising those boys by myself. Oh, they're full grown now and calmed down a little, but, earlier, they were a handful let me tell you. If you've got sons of your own, you know what I'm talking about probably. My wife came to Australia from China right after the Korean War and we got hitched. Me, I'm about as Aussie as they get: my great-great granddaddy was one of the prisoners sent over from England to help settle the western provinces here. He was a scoundrel, they say, sentenced for thievery in Southampton and then re-sentenced here for escaping from prison a couple of times. Well, me and my missy had five kids just bang, bang, bang - four boys, now 23, 21, 19, and 17 and a girl in between, 20. Not one of them married yet - we're so far from anyone I don't know how they would meet anyone to marry anyway - and from the looks of things I don't know if they'll ever get hitched. They look a little exotic because of their mixed blood, but it turned out pretty well. All of them are well-built and handsome, if I do say so myself, and those boys of mine are hung like a horse. Mighty independent cusses, they are. We all work our tails off running the ranch and all my kids are hard workers and don't stint our responsibilities so we all get along pretty well.
"The problem, Mr. Williams, is all between our legs. All of us are so hard up, I found two of my boys fucking a ewe the other day and Lord knows how many times I haven't caught them at it. They take the old Cessna and get into Perth when they can and pay for a good whore for the night, but, you know, that's just too far and too long between visits to really do much good. It's not just my boys, but even at my age, a man's got powerful needs without a wife around and even my daughter's getting damn horny - found a whole bunch of DVDs hidden in her closet just last week and those little boxes looked well used - turned out they were all porn where they had slaves doing everything you can dream of and then some.
"I decided to grab the bull by the horns and figured out I can afford one top-notch slaveboy specially trained just for this situation. The idea is to have this new purchase service my four boys in whatever turns them on; myself - probably less frequently," - Mr. Ledgerwood winked at bit at his host - "and once we get the slave's tubes tied off properly, let him serve stud for my daughter to take her pleasure with."
"You vasectomize the animal and you won't be getting any slave pups out of him," Bill Williams warned, "although I shouldn't be lecturing you, a sheep rancher, on animal husbandry. Why not just put your daughter on the pill. That way, if and when she marries, she can have a family and still enjoy the slave all she wants until then."
"That's sensible. You think Matilda would take the pills faithfully?"
"She would if that's the only way you'd let her have her fun with the stud."
"Well, another thing - I don't know if she'd share a slave with her brothers. Women are funny that way."
By this time, they were entering Bill's private quarters and Bill was getting two Fosters out of the fridge.
"Once she sees this slave, she won't care if the slave's servicing your sheep as well," Bill laughed. "Like to inspect the slave, and then we can talk business?"
"That's what I came all the way for," John Ledgerwood chuckled. "Oh, Bill, you mind if I try him out? It's a lot of money, you know."
"Any buyer paying that kind of money would try a slave out before putting cash on the barrel-head. Only a fool wouldn't, John. Take you time, look him over all you want and then take him back in the guest bedroom and give him a run for his money. When you're all tuckered out, we'll talk turkey."
Without further ado, Bill walked back to the slave quarters and released the strikingly handsome blond pleasure slave from his cage. The slave had thoroughly cleansed himself inside and out, oiled his body, and given himself a fresh body shave as he had been instructed prior to being penned. Fastening a leash to his neck collar, he lead the naked slave into the outer room where Mr. Ledgerwood awaited.
"We call him P56, but you can call him any damn thing you want after you buy him, of course." He handed the neck leash to Mr. Ledgerwood and sat back to enjoy his beer.
Mr. Ledgerwood licked his lips in appreciation of the blond slave's striking beauty and then began the usual slave examination going over the slave's neck muscles, his shoulders, his arms, his legs, his feet, and then probed his ass muscles, his abs, and his pecs before checking out his teeth, his ears, and his eyes. As he then settled into a more serious bodily examination, he noticed the slave was trying to control his crying.
"Why's it crying?" Mr. Ledgerwood asked. "Doesn't it like being handled?"
"No, no, John," Bill chuckled. "You're not going to believe this, but he likes it so well here he's scared of a new home. I know it's silly and a slave has no right to like' or dislike' anything, but this slave is on the emotional side for an animal. But that's got a plus side to it - he's loyal as a sheepdog, really gets into whatever you ask him to do, and takes a certain pride in being a damn good pleasure slave."
"Well, he's a looker, all right. They don't come much better looking than this, and," reaching down to heft the slave's balls and then stroke the slave to a full erection, "he's got the equipment on him to satisfy most anybody - even that horny daughter of mine who likes her meat real big to hear her tell it."
As John continued to stroke the slave, obviously wanting to test the boy's juices, he took his other hand and stuck his longest finger all the way up the slave's lubricated asshole.
"He's still pretty tight, considering what he does to earn his keep," John announced as he pumped two, then three fingers in and out to test for reaction. "You got a dildo around here I could use to test his capacity?"
"Sure, John." Bill walked to a side cabinet, opened it and revealed dildos of every size and shape. "How big you want it?"
"That 12x5 will do, Bill," John said. "Nobody in the family any bigger than that, unless they've grown some since I last checked them out. Funny, my 17-year-old is already hung bigger than any of us."
Bill handed the selected dildo to John who, without ceremony, jammed it as far up the slave's asshole as possible in one stroke. P56 moved his legs wider apart and moaned softly, but otherwise took the intrusion in style.
"Well trained, I see, Bill."
"Very well trained. As you can see from his brand, he a product of The Bazaar clear over in Egypt - they sell only the very best and only sell slaves fully trained. That's why their products are so expensive. Sort of like buying a Rolls - personally trained after being carefully selected from the finest stock. As you probably read on the provenance I sent you over the internet, this boy is from a Paraguayan breeding farm and is the unwanted product of two immigrants to that country - a Russian sire and a Lithuanian brood - both free but unmarried, so the bastard was handed over to the breeding farm they worked at to be raised. Under Paraguayan law, a baby given over to be raised by a slave breeding farm is a slave themselves so he's been a slave just as long as any slave deliberately bred there. When he was of market age, they shipped him over to Alexandria, Egypt, where The Bazaar is located and that's where they put the polish on him as a pleasure slave. When this boy walked out on the auction block there flexing his muscles and displaying his manhood all hard and dripping, the audience gave him resounding applause. That should tell you how much I had to bid to get him. Since I've had him here, I've found nothing to complain about - only had to whip him a couple of times: once for not stepping lively enough to suit me and once for carelessly scraping me with his teeth a little when I had my dick all the way down his throat. As you'll soon see, his output is tasty and plentiful. He's great to fuck and knows every trick in the book to make a master happy in sucking them off. My brother borrows him now and then and says, for a white boy, he's the best he knows of, although he favors the black hides for his own pleasure generally. Now, as to servicing your daughter, I don't know from personal experience, but I know he was fully trained to please a mistress in any damn thing she could come up with, and The Bazaar guaranteed him in that area as well. But, since I don't know personally, I'll throw in a little guarantee of my own. If he doesn't satisfy your daughter just like she wants, bring him back within a month and I'll give you your money back, minus 2% as a month's rent for wear and tear. After all, sucking off and being fucked by five masters as well as a mistress puts some mileage on a slave boy, specially trained or not. If your sons are as well hung as that dildo indicated, that only adds to the mileage when you're on the receiving end."
"Master, I'm going to shoot now. You want it in a cup or you just want it in your guest's hand, master?" the slave gasped as he thrust his huge organ further into his user's gripping hand.
"Normally, I'd just let you shoot off in the palm of my hand so I could lap it up, but, since we're in polite company, shoot off in that little dish on the table there which I suppose is put there for that very purpose," Mr. Ledgerwood ordered the slave.
"You got that right, John," Bill Williams said as he held the dish in front of the pulsating organ.
The dish was no sooner positioned properly until the slave erupted. The output was copious, thick, and stringy.
"How long since this slave's been drained?" John asked, obviously impressed with the huge quantity of steaming hot cum.
"Yesterday, as I recall. I like a little stud cream as a cocktail now and then," Bill admitted. "But I'm not one to hold a slave from shooting off after he's satisfied me. No sense keeping a slave so needy all the time they can barely stand still. I don't like them dripping all over the house and looking like a ram in heat all the time. Doesn't make them suck any better and it doesn't make them take a good fucking any better. If it did, I'd think differently of course, but no use ruining a slave with swollen balls all the time. Sorry, John, about spouting off on this, but that's one area my brother and I don't agree on at all. He never lets his pleasure slave get off and the poor black bastard is about delirious with need most of the time and, God, drips all over my brother's suite so it smells like a brothel in there."
"Might be different with six people to service. You can't have a slave shooting off and then be ready to go at a moment's notice. Different with just one master - but six? "
"After everyone's through with him for the day, you could milk him for a tasty little treat to be shared by all. That way, the slave gets some relief after he's done his duty of satisfying the whole lot of you, and you could enjoy a little liquid refreshment now and then. I doubt, though, John, you'll get much more out of him that what's in that dish if you milk him just once a day. That's really not enough for six people to get their fill. But milk him more and it would probably detract from his performance, like you say."
"Well, we could schedule the milking. The oldest boy on Mondays, the second oldest on Tuesday, and on down the line. But we'd start on Sunday with me. I'm the one who really needs the stuff if what they say about serving as a tonic is true. Besides, if this is any example, he took another sip of fresh cum from the dish, I find it quite tasty. Unique, almost."
"Can I take him in the bedroom now, Bill? I haven't got all day and need to get matters settled soon as I can."
"The buck's all yours, John," as he pointed to the guest bedroom.
Within minutes, Bill heard 56's loud slurping and sucking sounds as yet another prick was fed down his throat. Minutes later, he heard a gruff command for the slave to get on the edge of the bed with his ass open for a good fucking. The only sound from then on was the steady squeaking of the bed as the slave's ass was being pounded, a few moans from the slave being fucked, and, a little later, some heavy panting from John, followed by some very loud yells and sighs as John Ledgerwood emptied his own load far up the slave's ass. This was followed by a long period of silence, the sound of P56 cleaning off the organs of his user, and then the distinct sound of John Ledgerwood zippering up his pants.
When he reappeared, the potential buyer was flushed and sweaty, as was the slave being led by his leash, fresh cum dripping out of his asshole down onto his thighs.
"Done deal," John Ledgerwood said. "That slave's everything you said it would be. I just hope it holds up to six of us going after him day and night."
As John said down and started writing out the check for the full list price, he asked, "Bill, realistically, how long does a slave last getting used by four randy bucks, one horny female, and one frustrated old widower. By my way of thinking, we're talking about taking it up the ass at least 8 to 10 times a day, God knows how many times a prick will slide down his throat, and that daughter of mine has really never had access to a stud of her own. My bet is she'll go overboard and ride him until he's raw. That's a hell of a lot of use for just one slaveboy, I don't give a damn how well trained he was over in Egypt or wherever."
"Don't worry, John. 56 tells me Paraguyan slaves are noted for their stamina. But, if he's just bragging, look at the slaves in the male brothels in Perth and Sydney and every other large city here in Australia. They get used round the clock and they tell me they last a good five or six years before they're all worn out and they recoup what they can by selling them off as draft animals. I'd say you're good for at least that long and then you can sell this blond boy off for all sorts of things that doesn't involve what's between his legs - you know, an office slave, a waiter, a car park attendant, that sort of thing. You'll get about 20% of your purchase price back for the worn out goods, but, God, think of the fun all of you will have had in the interim. Well worth it, it my opinion."
"Mine too, Bill. Here's your check."
"And here's the complete provenance, the bill of sale, and all the deeds of ownership. And I stand good on my offer to take this blond slave back after a month if he's not satisfactory to your daughter. But don't you dare vasectomize him before that trial run - if you bring him back, I'm thinking of either selling him to a breeding farm as a good stud or setting up a small breeding operation here myself. There's always a market for handsome blonds at a decent price."
"I doubt if you'll be seeing me again," John Ledgerwood smiled as he again looked at his new possession, standing in full display mode for his new owner. "But if you're in the neighborhood, you're always welcome - Hell, I'll even give you a go with your former possession," John laughed.
"You think he'll fit in that tiny little luggage compartment in the Cessna, Bill? The last time we used that was to carry a couple of rams I wanted for breeding purposes. I hosed it out, but it still smells like - well, like sheep do."
"Animals like the smell of other animals," Bill advised. "Your new slave will feel right at home. You should have smelled the cargo holds of those air-freighters they used to ship a big lot of slaves over from Egypt. Those sheep of yours couldn't have smelled worse than that."
P56 was shackled, stuffed in the tiny cargo compartment of the Cessna which indeed did smell to high heaven, and with a friendly wave, John Ledgerwood and his newly purchased piece of meat were off.
Bill never saw John Ledgerwood again, but he did get an e-mail a few weeks later. It read:
Matey,
I won't be taking you up on your guarantee. The slave has taken
to his new life well and can handle the lot of us without too
much down time. My daughter, as I predicted, can't get enough
of him, so I've rationed her use of him so there's something left
for the five men in the house. If you ever want to sell some
surplus stock in the future, let me know. Best money I ever
spent."
Come visit when you get a chance. I'll even give you a round
with your old bedbuck if you want!
Your friend,
John Ledgerwood
P.S. When I told Matilda she couldn't use the slave unless I saw
her down her birth controls pills each and every day, I never got
one bit of backtalk - unusual with her. And she's never said a
word about everyone else in the house using her new sex toy.
You can never predict a woman, Bill!
Comments always solicited and appreciated. Thanks. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)