THE BAZAAR
by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com).
Chapter 11
THE KOREAN INVASION
Chad was well satisfied with his black boy, P44, and Bill was still fascinated with the two black mining slaves he had report to his suite as soon as their work shift was over and they had time to clean themselves inside and out, shave their bodies, and eat their fill of slave chow. The two draft slaves performed in bed just as well as a full blown pleasure slave - the only difference they were a lot more tired even before beginning satisfying their owner's sexual needs. It made Bill wonder if the huge price premium for pleasure slaves was really worth it.
As an experiment, he arranged to have the two mining slaves relieved of their normal work shift every other day and, sure enough, he found a big difference in their performance on the days they weren't worked under the whips for 12 hours before showing up at his personal suite with the slaves. Fully rested, he was hard pressed to see any difference at all: the handsome well-endowed mining slaves he had selected were just as good as either his former white pleasure slave or Chad's black pleasure slave who he borrowed from time to time.
Based on the results of his experiment, he pulled the two slaves off of mining duty entirely so he could enjoy their fully rested bodies anytime he wanted them. The two slaves involved were delighted with this turn of events, always happy to trade getting heavily fucked or swallowing a big dick down their throats to being worked under a heavy whip down in the mines. Besides, they were getting fucked and on their knees sucking anyway, what with the overseers during the day and the other penned mining slaves at night. As far as they were concerned, the only difference was they were out of a lot of backbreaking work, their backs and rumps weren't sore and bleeding from the overseer's incessant whips, and, on the down side, they couldn't fuck other slaves willy-nilly at night like they used to when in the mining slaves' pen. Now they were solely on the receiving end of things, but it wasn't a big deal in that the master still let them empty their balls now and then.
Chad was, of course, curious as to Bill's latest bedbucks and borrowed them to check them out - first one and then the other. He too found the chosen mining slaves as good as his own black pleasure slave and shared Bill's thought as to the worth of paying the premium pleasure slaves generally brought at market. It wasn't long until Chad's black slave, P44, was sold at a huge profit to a small brothel in Adelaide catering to both women and men unable to afford a slave for themselves. With the sale, it was clear P44's life of leisure were over. From now on, he would be kept busy around the clock, including utilizing his training in pleasuring a mistress. P44 took the sale stoically, realizing, as a slave, this would one of many future sales throughout his lifetime.
Chad filled the void by selecting one of the mining slaves for his own use: in his case, a rather short, nicely muscled coal-black boy around 20 years of age, very smooth skinned, an almost feminine face, but with a sizeable usually erect dick that announced he was all male. Strangely, the black slave was from Ireland and had been sentenced to slavery by the Irish courts for statutory rape of a buxom 15-year-old, the usual sentence for disturbing the purity of Irish women in a Catholic country.
That mining slave too proved totally satisfactory in Chad's bed once he was relieved of his mining duties and was grateful to do anything - anything at all - demanded of him to get out of the never-ending toil of the copper mines.
The problem was that the mines were now short three workers and, no matter how hard the whips, kicks, and electric prods utilized by the overseers to keep up the work quotas, it provided well nigh impossible (which indicated to both Chad and Bill the overseers had been doing a good job of extracting full output from the mining slaves even before their loss of three able workers.)
Bill volunteered to return to The Bazaar in Egypt to buy up another lot of draft slaves in that they needed to expand production anyway and it would take a sizeable increase in their stock to do that. Chad would run the company, get use of all three house slaves (as the three formerly mining slaves were now known) and make sure everything went well with his brother's brief absence. Both agreed that on this buying trip Bill Williams would take advantage of the discounts involved in buying stock in 100+ lots, that they would pick out a particular good looking, well hung boy from the lot of draft slaves to be sold off to John Ledgerwood as the additional pleasure slave he felt he needed with his large family, and that, this time, it didn't matter what color the slaves were - exposure to the sun wasn't a problem when the slaves were down in the mines anyway most of the daytime. Whatever color was the best value was what color they would buy as long as they were sturdy, muscular, young, and fully trained to complete and permanent acceptance of their slave status, i.e., owned animals.
Two days later, Bill arrived at The Bazaar's private airport and, as a previous buyer, was given every priority in overnight accommodations, luxury meals, and an advance peek at the available merchandise. Bill was quickly apprised of The Bazaar's special of the day: Korean draft slaves arriving by the thousands daily.
The sales agent explained how the North Korean government, faced with a cash crisis, set up a program to export one of their biggest problems: overpopulation. The new program was designed to annually decrease the population slightly and, at the same time, bring in a much needed cash flow. The design was ingenious.
All Korean males were subject to a mandatory military draft at the age of 18 anyway. But now, once drafted, they were first sorted into those with family connections (parents, siblings, wife, etc.) and those without any family connections (orphans, deserted and abandoned children, estranged children, runaways, etc., and, in addition, unmarried). Taking this latter proportionately small group, they then again sorted them for good sturdy body builds, handsome physiques, universally appealing facial features, sizeable sex organs, evident strong sex drive, and freedom from disease. This still much smaller group making the final cut soon found themselves in isolated special training camps that taught them strict obedience, tolerance of total nudity at all times along with frequent body handling, responsive sexual performance on command, and a new self-image as property of the state. Body conditioning was heavily emphasized each and every day during the entire training period, similar to that in all other military programs. Graduation from this special training (generally taking about five months due to their formerly free status and allowing time to make sure they were no inquiries as to their whereabouts), involved receiving a collar around their neck, shackles about their ankles and wrists, and a permanent ring through their nose so the boy had no doubt as to his new position in life as an owned animal ready for sale in the open market. Shortly thereafter, the Korean boys found themselves in an air-freighter headed to The Bazaar which had a special exclusive sales license with the North Korean government.
The agent explained that another fresh batch of the latest trained slaves had just arrived from the North Korean facilities and The Bazaar was eager to sell them off as soon as possible due to the huge influx which was straining their holding pen capacities. The Bazaar was offering them in 10-ton lots at a very special price.
"I never gave a thought to buying Asian stock, but, if it's as good a buy as you claim, I'll take a look," Bill said.
Without delay, The Bazaar's sales agent took Bill to one of scores of huge holding pens, but this one held only the Korean slaves he had been talking about - all 18 years of age; all well built; all amply equipped; all reasonably attractive; and all looking like the slaves they now were in their total nudity, their shackled wrists and ankles, their neck collars, and most of all, the sturdy ring that had been welded through the septum of their nose clearly signifying they were now draft animals, no different than the water buffalos, oxen, and pigs they had back in Korea with rings through their snouts.
Bill was impressed. They were sturdy enough to work the mines, were only 18-years- old so even under those harsh conditions they could be worked for 25 or 30 years probably, and a few of them, showing hard even in the pens, were attractive enough to serve as bedbucks if you wanted. Besides, Bill reasoned, Asians always had a reputation for sturdiness under harsh conditions and they were already, obviously, acclimated to their status as work animals. He thought their selection was quite clever on the part of the North Korean government and, no doubt, minimized problems in their training.
"Any special discounts if I buy now, saving you the time of preparing them for auction and taking the risk they won't bring what we might work out. I'm talking about a 10-ton lot for that special price, remember."
The crafty agent got a special commission for selling stock prior to auction and quickly offered a price Bill found astounding.
"The North Korean government can't be making much at that price," Bill exclaimed.
"But the slaves cost them nothing - only the price of their upkeep and the cost of their drill sergeants for the five months of rigid training, Anything they get constitutes good profit as far as they are concerned. Besides, it's that many less mouths for them to feed and cuts their unemployment rate significantly."
"With the usual guarantees?" Bill asked, still dubious of the incredibly low price.
"With the usual Bazaar warranties," the agent assured him, "plus all the paperwork validating they are your legal property."
"I'll take 15 tons in that case. We'll have to build a lot more pens and buy some more hand tools, but at this price, we can afford it. The cost of all that slave chow is practically negligible compared to everything else. I'm sure my brother will go along with this investment."
With his signature on a few papers and The Bazaar's bonus presentation of a free first- class ticket home (provided if you bought over 12 tons of stock at one time), Bill went back to the provided luxury hotel suite complete with one of The Bazaar's provided house slaves' who took care of all customers' personal needs (and that meant everything). After taking advantage of the Greek house slave (that came with his suite) relaxing' him more than a few times, he got a wonderful sleep before his long flight back the very next day.
The next morning, right before being chauffeured to The Bazaar's airport, the naked Greek slave delivered one of the best sucking jobs he had ever experienced in his life.
"How did you learn to suck so well, slave?" Bill asked as the slave was busily cleaning his prick of any residue.
"Greek boys learn to suck like other boys learn soccer," the slave chuckled. It's part of our cultural heritage and we Greeks take great pride in our abilities."
Bill was tempted to try to buy the Greek boy on the spot, but then thought he had spent enough for one trip. Then he thought of buying up a boy for the Ledgerwood household and knew the Greek slave would fill the bill exactly: he was young enough to hold up to the heavy demands of that household; his manhood was so damn big even Matilda would be happy, and his Greek handsomeness would no doubt turn on the randy half-breed brothers who, he suspected, would fuck a sheep if nothing else was available - oh, he remembered, that's exactly what they did before he provided them with that blond slave to fuck.
The hotel manager was used to such requests in that the house slaves' were seldom in the hotel long - they were there to audition themselves for potential purchase to the hotel's guests. Consequently, with a few strokes on the keyboard of his computer, he could quickly cite a price, promptly lowered it 40% as an incentive, and the sale was concluded in no more time than it took the limousine to arrive to take Bill Williams to the airport. The hotel manager assured his guest he could take the slave with him in the trunk of the car and try to ship him home as personal luggage, or he could just ship him with the next airlift to Australia which he understood was no later than 3 PM that very day.
"I understand there's a 15-ton lot of draft slaves going out at that time," the hotel manager said, staring at his computer terminal.
"That's right - I just bought them," Bill told him. "Make sure the Greek house slave is in with them - it will all be the same address."
"No problem," the hotel manager said happily as he charged the slave's price to the Williams Copper Company's Visa card. "Have a good trip home and don't worry. The Bazaar will take care of all the little details of getting your stock to their new home safe and secure."
"I know. That's why I'm a repeat customer," Bill answered with a small smile.
"I suspected. Generally, this hotel only hosts our priority clients," the manager nodded his head as Bill stepped into the provided limousine, slave-chauffeured of course, by a magnificent naked black animal with heavy tit rings, genital banding, ear rings, neck collar, and a large nose ring all gold-plated. It was a showy display and Bill couldn't help tweaking the gold nose ring as the slave was on his knees beside the open rear door.
After Bill entered the Mercedes, the huge black slave gently rose from his knees and, before closing the door, unashamedly asked,
"Master, would you like a good sucking before we start out? Or perhaps to fuck this slave's ass for your pleasure? Or, if you prefer to use me outside the car, I could stop at a small private alcove on the way to the airport and you can use this slave's body to your complete satisfaction, master."
When Bill looked a little confused, the slave added, "Many of our passengers take advantage of this service, master. No extra charge, of course."
Although the Greek slave had just sucked him off less than an hour or so before, the black animal before him was an opportunity not to be missed, and free at that. Bill reached forward and grasped the black slave's huge organ with one hand while weighing his balls with the other. Both were as attractive and appealing as the rest of the slave, especially being displayed so prominently by the tight genital band he was fitted with.
"Stop at that alcove, slave," Bill ordered.
"Yes, master," the black slave smiled broadly, knowing such usage would assure he got full rations that night.
"Good choice," the hotel manager yelled from the doorway, obviously waiting there to hear Bill's answer. "I've never heard a complaint about that black's servicing. I've wanted to get him for use here in the hotel, but the limousine service won't let him go. If you ever need a new home, B'Wandi, you know where to come, and then you can forget all about driving that damn Mercedes all day long" he shouted directly at the slave chauffeur. "It's your ass we're interested in."
"Thank you, master, but the limousine company still owns me, master, and I don't see any signs of selling me off. But I'll remember your offer, master, and much appreciate it."
The Mercedes did stop at the alcove and the black slave's ass was as good as the rest of him. The fucking was brief, however, in that Bill needed to make the plane. But the chauffeur was used to time-limited use of his body and made it as enjoyable as possible for his user under the time pressures. Once stopped, he quickly got in the back compartment, sucked his passenger down to the root until Bill was fully hard, and then presented his previously lubricated asshole, only pausing to ask if Bill wanted him on his hands and knees, on his back, or to have the chauffeur lower himself onto the passenger's prick and do the pumping. Bill choose the last offer in that he wanted to play with the slave's huge ringed tits as the chauffeur lowered his ass and then pumped it up and down on Bill's rigid cock. Within minutes, Bill Williams was shooting a load well up into the black slave, and, by then, had the chauffeur's tits hard and swollen in his hands. The slave was hard and dripping, but never shot, showing the control he would need to last through a long day of taking people to the airport from the nearby hotels.
"Thank you, master," the black slave said as he slid up and off of me, wiped the cum off of his bottom and thighs so as to not strain the rich leather of the Mercedes, and then cleaned his passenger's cock completely with his mouth before continuing the journey.
When the slave and his passenger were on their way again and Bill had his clothes back on, he asked the black slave how long he had chauffeured here.
"About six years now, master. Even since I was sold off at The Bazaar."
"How about moving to the hotel I was at, like the manager suggested?"
"Not my decision, master. But if it happens, it happens. Slaves don't determine what happens to them, master. Doesn't matter, things wouldn't change much either way, except, as the manager said, I wouldn't be driving anymore."
"He seemed eager to own you, slave," Bill prodded.
"Yes, master. He'd be a good master, but I got a good owner now, master. Plenty of food at night, a clean place to sleep, and even nice bathing facilities. I'm not worked more than 12 hours a day, master."
"Well, you'd get fucked a lot more at the hotel, probably," Bill noted.
"I get fucked plenty now, master, so no advantage there," the black slave chuckled.
With that, Bill was at the airport and on his way home.
Not a day later, the 15 tons of fresh North Korean meat arrived via air freight along with the Greek house slave, all in perfect condition. Chad looked the 154 draft slaves (15 tons) over and, although like his brother Bill, had never given much thought to Asian slaves, was well pleased, especially when he found out the per-unit cost and the overall excellent condition of the new lot of miners. While the Koreans were receiving the Williams Copper Company ownership brand on their butts, Chad asked if he could fuck the Greek, knowing he had been bought on consignment' for the Ledgerwood Ranch.
"Sure, Chad," Bill laughed. "It's not like he's a virgin or anything. Shit, I bet he's been fucked as much at that hotel I was at as that blond pleasure slave I've already sold them."
"Well, I didn't want them to think I was stealing the goodies," Chad laughed as he leashed the fine-looking Greek slave by his neck collar and led him away to his private suite for an afternoon of fun and games.
This gave Bill a chance to really look over the stock he had just bought as they were being branded. Out of the 154, a good 16 were knockouts in the looks department with heavily muscled physiques, prominent pecs and abs, thick muscular necks tightly collared, handsome smooth faces, alert, bright dark eyes with long eyelashes, practically hairless bodies before they were body shaved, and nicely shaped and well-sized genitals that would look even better if they were circumcised (which could be quickly arranged). Bill, and Chad fully agreed with him, that circumcised slaves not only looked better but solved a chronic cleanliness problem. Knowing he didn't need to consult his brother on the matter, he ordered the whole lot circumcised by the vet (who was on hand anyway to check out the new stock) while they had them in the preparation center where they also needed to be recollared with the standard Williams company slave collar, have any tit or ear rings removed (they had found they tended to get caught in the mining equipment), and have all of them banded so they displayed well and the Williams' ownership band was permanently affixed to their genitals to identify their property along with the collar and the company brand.
The nose rings would stay. Both Bill and Chad liked their look of a controlled animal so well, he asked the vet to drill through the nose septums of the 97 mining slaves already in the pens and then weld in large nose rings to match those of the new purchases. That way, they would all look alike despite their difference in the color of their hide.
"Bill, it's a nice look, alright, but it's going to take an extra day to do that and, let me warn you, there's a lot of blood involved and always the chance of infection," the vet commented. "And, it will cost you $6.50 a ring installed."
"You can sleep in the guest suite, Claude, And, while we're talking price, how much for each dick clipping so we can all get a good look at those glans whenever we want?" Bill asked.
"Oh, that will run you $20 each. Giving you a special price due to the volume. Normally twice that. But 253 foreskins is a lot of cutting. You want me to save the trimmings? They're delicious fried up like pork rind as a special treat. If you don't want them, I'll keep them if you don't mind and sell them to a butcher in Perth I know who fries them up himself as a gourmet item."
"Save them. When you're through and get rested up before you start in on those nose- rings, we'll fry some up and try them out ourselves. You just use regular frying oil or do you barbeque them with some sauce.?" Bill responsed.
"Never heard of barbequing them, but we could a few that way," Claude the veterinarian chuckled. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Some of the slaves nearby about to be "trimmed" overheard the two masters talking and looked sick. Two of them started to vomit.
"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Bill said, cutting the back open of one of the vomiting slaves with his razor-tipped training whip.
The slave screamed as his back started bleeding and a howl of anguish escaped his throat.
"Master, you're not.... master... .you're not ... going to.... eat us, are you master?" the slave gasped out.
"Just that little bit we'll be trimming off your prick, you bastard," Bill replied with another slash of his whip on the slave's bleeding back. "What's it to you, slave? Did you want it to eat? "
"No, master," the slave stammered through his tears.
"You're just an animal and your owners will eat any damn part of you they want to," the veterinarian Claude added, equally incensed at the slave's inquiry. "How do you think slave chow gets its meat flavoring, slave?"
"I don't know... master," the crying slave chocked out, fearful the whip would land once again on his back.
"Well, when the whip won't get one more ounce of work out of your worn out body, slave, they grind you up to flavor the next batch of slave chow," the vet answered. "That way, slave, you'll be happy to know, you'll be of some good use to your master even when you're dead."
The slave being addressed cramped over and spewed a full load of vomit onto the ground, unmindful of the lashing that was sure to follow.
The veterinarian shook his head in disgust as he turned to Bill Williams. "Some of these animals are so naive, Bill, and really haven't come to grips with the fact they're no different than any other animal now. You raise a pig to eat, you slaughter him when he's full grown and you eat him. No different with a slave although, I admit, we're not into that yet. But that's only because slave meat isn't very tasty - sort of like venison, tough, sinewy, and a little gamey. You don't see that sort of naivete in a bred slave, Bill."
"I didn't know you had tasted slave meat, Claude," Bill asked fascinated with no trace of ethical concern.
"Oh, yeah. I was on a hunting trip a few years back with some friends of mine from Perth. Never bagged any of the deer we were trying for, but one of my friends accidentally shot one of the slaves accompanying us to set up the camp, cook the meals - stuff like that. With no other game to eat, we decided to just spit roast the slave. Even with a lot of good barbeque sauce, it was, like I said, mighty gamey and strong as old shoe leather. Maybe if we had boiled him or something, but we all agreed it wasn't worth the effort."
"Well, I bet a lot of slaves are happy to hear that!" Bill laughed. "We better get on with getting these animals processed."
As the newly purchased slaves were given their ID tattoos front and back, Bill jotted down the numbers of the 16 he had already selected for possible use in his bed once they were fully outfitted, branded, and had their IDs in place. It might be exciting to fuck an animal fitted out with a nose ring and even greater fun to lead one around with a leash fitted to that ring. Chad had already expressed his desire to leash one by their nose ring just for the heck of it.
By the time the brandings were completed, the IDs tattooed in place, the excess rings were removed, and the ordered circumcisions were just beginning, Chad returned with the Greek slave who had been trimmed years ago apparently and needed only the fitting of a tight genital band, an appropriate ID tattoo and a new collar to be complete.
While the vet was on hand for a few days at least, Bill and Chad thought it best to have ALL the mining slaves circumcised, including the 100 in their first lot who hadn't already been circumcised at one point or another. That way, all the slaves would be matched.
"That's a 100 more than I thought," the vet grinned. "I'm going to be rich man before I head for home. You don't want any local anesthesia, do you, Bill and Chad? It'll cost you more if you want it, but you know what I recommend."
"Yes," Chad laughed. "Antibiotic salve for three days, the same as we use on fresh brands, and skip the anesthesia - the sharp pain teaches slaves the power an owner has over their bodies and is a lesson long remembered."
"God, you have it down by rote!" the vet chuckled.
"I hope the Ledgerwoods appreciate what you got for them, Bill. This one's a real winner." Chad had to almost yell to make himself heard over the screams of the first slaves being circumcised as part of their manhood was cut away at the whim of their owner. It was a lesson they were truly just an animal now.
"Yeah, I know, Chad, although it'll take another round with the slave before I'm sure," he laughed. "I'm asking four times what I paid for him from John Ledgerwood and he's still getting the buy of a lifetime."
"I kind of feel sorry for the slave in a way, Bill, from what you tell me goes on in that old ranch house. Five randy bucks and a lusty Aussie ranch woman - that's a lot of use."
"You forgot the lonely widower' as John Lederwood puts it," Bill laughed. "But, remember, they have P56's ass and mouth already at their disposal and my guess is old P56 is going to end up the exclusive stud of good old Matilda, which is an occupation in itself the way I hear it, and the Greek slave will end up doing what Greek boys have done for centuries - keeping the males in the household happy. But, even without Matilda climbing all over him day and night, the Greek going to be might busy, like you say. Hum, maybe I should ask for five times what I paid for the animal."
"Think it over for a few days. That will give both of us a chance to really enjoy the property before you sell him off."
"I knew you'd think of some scheme where he'd end up in your bed a few more times at least," Bill laughed. "But you won't get any argument out of me. I'm going to try out some of that new Korean meat eventually, but they need a while to heal from the circumcisions and branding. In the interim, like you say, I've got the Greek to enjoy - that is, if you don't wear him out completely, Chad," Bill laughed. "While the other slaves are waiting to be trimmed, we can get the overseers to put them to work building some new slave pens. Then, when it's their turn for the knife, the overseers can use those healing up. We should have the lot of them back in the mines in no more than a few days and, by then, we'll have all the pens we need."
The newly arrived Greek slave, hearing all this banter about him, took it in stride. Long ago he had learned he was nothing more than the animal they called him and if his new masters wanted to fuck him, that's exactly what they would do. If they planned to sell him off to some ranch of something where five men were going to fuck him, well, that's just the way it would be. He was interested, however, in that another slave was apparently already at that ranch, and he was scheduled for relief. No matter what his new owners turned out to be, he was sure this P56 or whatever the slave was called would soon be his friend. What slave doesn't welcome some relief when they're overused? And what slave doesn't like another slave around for company? It gets lonely when you're the only slave around.
The overseers, restless when they didn't have some slaves to boss around, promptly followed their employer's orders and put a gang of shackled slaves to work putting up new pens. Fortunately, all the supplies were already on hand: concrete block, stucco, cement, thick steel grating for the windows and ventilation, pipes for water and flushing drains, sturdy securely lockable iron mesh doors, and a inaccessible metal roof to top them off. The design was simple, easy to maintain, and escape proof. First, you put up concrete blocks on three sides with steel grating only the top six inches for light and ventilation. Then the front "wall" was made up entirely of steel mesh set into concrete so the penned slaves were always visible and had no privacy at any time. There were water outlets in the walls for the water bowls, a couple of shower heads in the ceiling with faucets outside only the overseers could control, and a poured cement floor sloping toward a drain so the entire pen could easily be hosed down every day. A feeding trough located at shoulder height was welded to the front steel grates so it was easy to fill with slave chow from outside the bars. Once finished (which took less than 6 hours to construct and several days for the cement to dry), some cheap washable rugs, a few blankets, and some wool rags were scattered around the floor for the slaves to sleep on. Overhead, cut off by welded steel grating, was a metal roof which sheltered them from the rain and the worst of the dust storms. The pens were hot as hell during the day under the metal roofs, but the slaves weren't there anyway during working hours. At night, it could get chilly, but the slaves quickly learned to use each others' bodies to keep themselves warm. The slaves crapped and pissed over the drain in the floor (which was flushed out twice every 24 hours) but the smell was tolerable due to all the ventilation provided. Most of the large pens held 30 to 40 slaves easily, but a few pens (actually cages) were also built into the complex for slaves awaiting a new buyer, sick slaves, etc. There was no electricity in the pens themselves, but the area around the pens was keep lighted all night long. A spotlight also shown into each pen at night so the overseers could see exactly what the slaves were doing at all times. Consequently, slaves never experienced darkness for sleep or any privacy whatsoever.
[Walking by a pen at night, you witnessed some slaves sound asleep pressed up against another slave's rump or leg or stomach, some sleeping on a rug, some casually sucking another slave off, some having their ass pounded by another slave, and some rutting another slave as if they owned them. You also occasionally saw a slave shitting over the drain, pissing, or even masturbating over in a corner somewhere. Some were even eating another handful of slave chow as a late night snack in that their kind owners allowed them all the food they wanted to eat once they were out of their work shackles and locked up in the pens. Some, early at night, might even be talking to each other (allowed only in the pens), but over time, with nothing new in their lives, there was little to talk about and every slave knew all there was to know about the other slaves he was penned with. (Bred slaves typically had common histories and the sameness of their life histories quickly got boring, even to themselves.) Most slaves never learned a common language outside the commands they needed to respond to avoid the ever present whips; consequently many couldn't communicate with each other anyway - the North Koreans had a huge advantage here, but the other slaves viewed them as aloof and cliquish as a result.]
Surrounding the entire complex of slave pens was a 15' tall electrified fence topped by razor wire. No slave had ever come close to that fence, but Bill and Chad weren't ones to take any chances. Slaves were just too expensive to not take good care of them.
Within a week, all the new pens were completed, all the slaves were nose ringed, branded, and circumcised, and only two had minor infections. The copper mine was back in production, only now output was up 260%, even better than the overseers had hoped. Bill and Chad were still using their selected black mining slaves as bed bucks in their suites. The newly acquired Greek slave was still awaiting shipment to the Ledgerwood Ranch and, in the interim, was being fucked frequently by his two new masters, sucking them off a ordered, as well as fucking the black slaves also in the suite to amuse both Bill and Chad who loved the interplay of white on black hides.
Writers need encouragement and feedback. Comments are very much appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com).