The Brazilian

THE BRAZILIAN

by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)

CHAPTER 6

That night, Juan had Niger in my room as I'd requested and when I arrived after a pleasant evening visiting with Juan, the black slave was on his knees beside my bed, his head bowed as far as his heavy metal collar would allow, with his knees spread wide. As usual, somehow he was fully erect and, head still bowed, he informed me he had shaved (actually he had little body hair anyway), showered, given himself a series of enemas so he was totally cleaned out, and greased his chute. As I looked his body over in all its naked glory, knowing he was totally at my disposal, I couldn't help but become aroused myself.

"Niger, you said you were from Mississippi," I stated as I began to peel off my clothes and let them drop to the floor. "How in the hell did you end up here?"

"Yes, master, I'm from Hattiesburg, Mississippi originally" Niger replied. "But when I was 16, I got busted for selling drugs down in the projects and ended up in the sheriff's detention center a few miles out of town. There were hundreds of us down there, kept in sort of a stockade way back in the woods with big electrified fences. Most of us were young, mostly black but not all, and pretty defenseless since we were kept shackled all the time with our arms locked behind our backs and our feet chained so we couldn't step more than 8' or so. Since we were more or less out of sight, the sheriff had us stripped - claimed we wouldn't run when we were as naked as we were born. At first we tried to act tough but that's kind of hard when you're buck naked and chained up like a trussed pig. But within a week, we were taken one-by-one into a small 'interrogation' room and strapped down to a saw horse where the sheriff's guards and some of his long-term 'trustees' raped us over and over no matter how hard we screamed or tried to get loose. These 'interrogations' went on every day after that until it didn't hurt so bad and we gave up screaming but just thought of it as part of the living hell of the place. Eventually, we just laid down on that saw horse when they took us to the room and let them strap us down without anyone having to whip the crap out of us or knock us senseless when we resisted. After that, we had to thank the bastards for fucking us when they had finished with us or we got the bejesus whipped out of us. We knew everyone was getting 'the treatment' as they called it, so it wasn't as if we were being singled out or anything. Furthermore, since everyone was getting fucked regularly, we never thought of ourselves as 'deviant' or 'queer.' It was just what we had to do to stay alive. But, master, we were the house whores and we knew it."

"Was that your introduction to sex, Niger?" I asked.

"No, master. Before I was busted I was always fucking some cunt from the projects since I had been 13 or 14 - can't remember, master. Sometimes some really cute little snatches would trade a good fuck for a fix. But me being the one getting fucked was all new to me and most of the other boys until I got to the Sheriff's detention center. But we got use to taking up the ass within a month or so and then we had to learn to suck which wasn't too hard when you were a whore anyway. They speeded the whole process up by not letting us getting off ourselves unless they gave permission and the only way they gave that was when you sucked them off particularly well or gave them a good fuck up your ass. After a week or so of not shooting off, you'll do most anything to get a little relief. At least, that was true for me, master, and most of the other boys at the center back in Mississippi. We were just teenagers and used to having our balls drained regularly, Master."

"Once we were fully 'trained' as they put it and were used to parading around naked all the time, one day the sheriff himself had us all lined up, still in chains, and a fleet of real fancy cars arrived on the other side of the fence. Some smartly dressed men and women got out of those limousines, came through the gate, and started down the line of us, feeling us all over, checking out our muscles, looking at our teeth, fondling our pricks until he all got hard, and ordering us to bend over while they stuck their fingers up our holes and wiggled them around to see how tight we were back there. We are all embarrassed to death - especially with women pawing over us like this - but the sheriff's guards really laid into you with a whip if you objected at all and, if that didn't stop you squirming around while the hands roamed all over you, they used their electric prods which about knocked you out it hurt so bad.

"Did they tell you anything about what was going on?" I asked, now fully naked myself and relaxing on the bed.

"No, master. They never told us anything - why they were fucking us every day, who these fancy dressed people were, when we would get out of there, nothing like that, master."

"Well, they looked you over and then what, Niger?" I asked.

"Those of us that were young and good looking and well hung were sorted out first, master, and taken to a big hall there at the retention center where we really got looked over - they stroked us to erection, jerked us off, put big dildos up our asses, kneaded our nipples until they got all swollen and erect, that sort of thing. I felt like a mule up for auction, master, except I don't know of any mule getting sold having things shoved up its ass or getting jerked off right there in public. Then one by one, the sheriff auctioned us off like cattle and I got 'bought' by some strange looking man that turned out to be an agent for Master de Silva. Of course, back then, I still didn't understand what was going on and the idea of being sold off as property was beyond me. You see, master, I didn't know about slavery then - it was just getting started in the States back then and I had always thought that ended with the Civil War, Master."

"What happened to those who weren't so pretty?" I asked.

"Oh, I understood they got taken to another building and the same thing happened except no one cared about how they looked or how sexy they were - they were just interested in their muscles and how much work they could get out of them. I learned later they were all sold off as draft slaves for the farms and factories, Master."

"That's where the bulk of slaves end up," I commented. "What happened once you were sold to the de Silva agent, Niger?"

"He bought eight of us at that sale, Master, and the Sheriff then had the eight of us taken down to the welding shop there at the detention center and had a iron collar welded around our neck and a big iron band welded around our equipment so our sex was forced out for a full display at all times. They left our shackles on. After that, the Sheriff had the eight of us delivered to an airstrip not too far away and we got herded into a big cage built inside one of Master de Silva's airplanes where there were two slave handlers on board with whips to keep us in line and water us. The agent stayed in Mississippi with the Sheriff and I've only seen him once or twice since then when I have been sent to his room here on the ranch for his enjoyment of me. After the long flight where I had fallen asleep but woke up hungry as hell, the eight of us were here at the ranch and I've never been off it since except when I'm driving the master's car."

"They must have trained you," I commented, 'in view of what you do now."

Niger blushed, turning his black skin purple.

"You mean being a sex slave?" Niger asked.

"Well, something like that," I said as I began to play with myself lying on the bed, finding the conversation very erotic.

"Yes, master. All eight of us joined about 60 other new slaves being trained for the sex market. We eight were all black Mississippi boys, but the others were from every country in the world - places I'd never heard of - and were about every color too. None of us spoke Portuguese back then and it was hard to communicate with each other, but I soon learned the white boys were from Poland, Slovakia, Rumania, Russia, and the United States and Australia. But they had boys there from India, Thailand, Malaysia, Samoa, and Mexico along with guys as black as I am from central Africa and some big brown boys from Senegal and Mauritania. What we had in common was we were all 'pretty' boys as they called us, we were all hung like horses, and we were all young and vigorous."

"You know, master, back in the projects we black boys thought no one was hung better than Mississippi black bucks. But when we saw our new training partners, a lot of them made us look downright puny," Niger giggled.

"The trainers here taught us to understand what we were now - slaves - just owned property; that we were being trained for resale as sex slaves who would follow any command without question in return for being housed and fed; and any objections to all of that would be meet with a quick trip to the whipmaster for a memorable lesson in what happens to slaves when they don't do exactly what they're told without question; and that essentially we were to provide any pleasure our pretty bodies could offer whoever bought us. The alternative was being sent to the rendering plant, located right here at the estate, or sold off to the emerald mines where, if lucky, we might last six months under the whips.

"When we lost our appeal, we would be sold off again in all likelihood, probably as draft slaves for the plantations or factories in whatever country we were in at the time and, after the last ounce of work left in our bodies had been extracted there, we would be sent, like all slaves eventually, to the rendering plants so our still functioning organs could be harvested, our hides could be tanned, and the rest of us turned into protein concentrate, one of the main ingredients in the special dry chow now fed to slaves around the world. So it was in our best interest to keep our bodies in perfect shape, our sexual skills honed, and our attitudes eager and willing at all times."

"Wow! Those trainers lay it on straight, don't they, Niger?" I chuckled.

"Yes, master. The scenario was motivational. When I understood that's exactly what a slave's world was like, I decided then and there I better make the most of it and do what they said."

"But it wasn't that easy, was it, Niger?" I prompted.

"No, master. Despite my good intentions, a slave has to be 'broken' to his master's will, just like they say and that takes a lot of pain, hunger, feelings of helplessness, and despair. After a session under the bull whip, after you have to earn every scrap of food, water, and sleep through doing exactly what they say without question, after having to earn sexual relief yourself through pleasing your master completely, and after learning thoroughly you no longer own your body or determine what you do or have any choices in this world other than doing what your master or mistress says - only after a long period of this do you turn into a proper slave. That's mainly what training is all about, Master. Of course, we were fucked continually, had pricks thrust down our gullets on a regular basis, fucked a cunt or another man's ass on command at least every other day, got used to having our tits and our pricks played with - that too teaches you you're just owned property now as well as teaches you what your function is in life. The big change comes when you realize you are nothing but a slave and always will be - the property of whoever buys you. But that change happens eventually and the trainers are experienced enough to know when you've settled into being a slave. At that point, you're 'broken' as they call it. That's when they sell you off to a new home."

"But you're still here, Niger," I noted.

"Yes, master. Along with Thor and a couple of brown slaves and a white American boy the Master wanted for himself. So we haven't been sold off yet, Master."

"Interesting, Niger, but it's time you got to work," as I indicated I wanted him to suck my organ, hard as a rock by now.

Niger smiled and climbed up on the bed, swallowing my entire length in one gulp before massaging me with his throat muscles. Just before I exploded into his mouth, I withdrew, had him roll over onto his back and then fucked him deeply once his muscular legs were up over my shoulders.

When I had deposited a full load well up his rectum, I told Niger to flush out. When Niger got off the bed to comply with my command, I noticed another slave was now kneeling beside the bed - a well muscled blond I quickly recognized as the stud Thor.

"What are you doing here, slave" I asked.

"My master thought you might want to use me tonight, master," Thor replied with his eyes lowered.

"Well, Niger has pretty well drained me right now, but perhaps a little later," I replied. "But Niger told me you were trained here at the same time he was. What's your story?" I asked.

"Master? What do you mean?" Thor responded.

"Where did you come from, Thor, and how did you end up a stud slave here in Brazil. You don't look like you were born here," I answered.

"Oh, I understand, Master," Thor replied humbly. "Master bought me from an Argentine prison when I was sixteen, Master. Most prisoners in Argentina are sold as slaves nowadays, Master, in that the government likes the money they get out of it and they don't have to feed and house us once we're sold, so it makes sense. I was shipped up here to the ranch and placed into training along with, as he said, Niger and all the others. We had a large group being trained at the same time, although the groups now are even larger, Master. After we were completely trained as sex slaves, Master looked us all over to decide who he wanted to keep here at the ranch and who he wanted to sell off at the next auction. As Niger may have told you, Master, he and I, two brown boys and an American white were all chosen to stay here as Master's own sex slaves. But Master decided I was to serve stud as well, Master, and I've been sent down to the rutting sheds almost every night since then. Master says I've sired over a thousand new slave pups already he can sell off once they're full grown and I imagine they're all different colors and sizes since I've been put to about every type of breeding wench imaginable."

"You like studding?" I asked since I found the role of a human stud unimaginable.

"No, master," Thor answered without hesitation, "but I have no choice as a slave."

"No, you don't, Thor," I agreed. "But a lot of free men I know claim they would like nothing better than being a stud."

"Yes, master. When I was 16 I talked like that too, but making new slaves with slave women you never know - you're simply told to mount them and fuck - it's different. Normally, the broods are blindfolded so they don't know whose fucking them and we only see their backsides since they are shackled to the rutting benches. That's a long way from 'making love' as I thought of it when I was fucking my girlfriend back in Argentina. Studding is just a chore here no different than shoveling coal or hacking the sugar cane."

"Oh, get off it, Thor. You don't have a nice little orgasm out in the cane fields."

"No, master. That's nice, but it's still a job."

"I suppose when you're primarily a stud, you don't look too forward to getting fucked by the master or- like me - one of his guests," I chuckled.

"No, master, I hate getting fucked or having to suck someone off," Thor answered, again totally honestly.

"Really?" I asked. "I thought Master de Silva fucked you on a regular basis."

"He does, Master. He says he enjoys fucking a slave that deeply resents it but knows he can't do a damn thing about it," Thor said so unemotionally that you would think we were talking about the weather.

"You mean you're not going to enjoy it when I fuck the shit out of you tonight, slave?" I asked, rather irritated with his honesty.

"No master, I'll hate it in that I don't like being used by another man and never did - just not built that way I guess - but that doesn't mean you'll be disappointed with me, Master. I can take a fuck with the best of them and bring you real pleasure, Master. That's what I have to do, Master, - bring you all the pleasure my body is capable of - and, as a slave, that's what I'll do. Master, what a slave may feel about use of his body doesn't have anything to do with your use of that body. No one cares what a slave feels or thinks about anything, Master. You learn that real quick in your slave training, Master. In fact, Master, Master de Silva really only likes to bed down bucks that resent it. He claims it makes for a better fuck."

"Is he right, Thor?" I asked.

"I don't know, Master. The only thing I ever fuck are breeding wenches."

"Somewhere down the line, Thor, they'll pull you off of studding. What then?" I asked.

"If I'm lucky, they'll sell me off to a mistress or master looking for a personal sex slave who has a lot of experience and fully understands their role as a slave. If I'm not so lucky, they'll sell me off to a factory where I'll be chained to a work station with a electrified dildo up my butt to make sure I work as hard as I can 12 to 14 hours a day. If I'm really unlucky, I'll end up sold off to the mines where I end up in a rendering plant within six months or so if the stories I hear are half-way true."

"Sort of a bleak scenario, Thor," I commented. "Wish you were back in that prison?"

"No, Master," was the quick reply.

"Why not?" I asked.

"You tend to never get released from Argentine prisons unless you're sold off - everyone knows that. And while you're in prison, everyone fucks you that can still get it up if you're even half-way decent looking. I got fucked more there than I ever have as a slave, including during training, Master. And at least the people fucking me here are decent looking. Besides, the foods a lot better, the accommodations are nicer here, and prison is as confining as being a slave - either place you don't decide what's going to happen to you or what you will be doing. No, master, I'm a lot better off being kept naked all the time with a collar around my neck, rings through my tits, and with my manly equipment all banded so it shows off properly. Slaves are worth a lot of money, Master, and owners tend to take care of their expensive property."

"A healthy perspective if I do say so, Thor," I complimented the slave as I motioned for him to get on all fours so I could mount him now that I had properly recovered from Niger's efforts.

Without hesitation, Thor assumed the commanded position with his knees spread wide apart to allow full access to his greased hole. As I climbed on him, I grabbed his ringed tits and shoved my prick deeply up his chute. He moaned in a slave's acceptance of his servitude.

CHAPTER 7

The next morning, Juan was eager to show me his entire facility. I was well rested since once I finished with Thor, I went promptly to sleep and never woke up until I smelled the coffee drifting into my bedroom where both Thor and Niger were asleep on floor.

Juan looked to be just as rested, explaining he had retired early with the well-trained slave he had sold me yesterday as well as the two brown boys he kept around as favored sex slaves but they had drained him completely by 10 o'clock and he had lost interest in their bodies after that.

After a quick but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, orange juice, and some of those specially frosted cinnamon rolls we both liked so well, we headed out in two rickshaws both pulled by naked dray slaves in full harness.

"Did you like those scrambled eggs?" Juan asked, yelling over from the other rickshaw.

"They were delicious," I yelled back.

"Yes. The secret is mixing the eggs with cream and fresh cum before cooking them," Juan yelled back. "It's the only way I like eggs anymore."

"That poor black slave in the kitchen gets pumped once again," I laughed.

Within minutes, we reached our first destination, the muscular slaves pulling us now drenched with sweat but breathing easily.

"This is the processing center for new slaves," Juan said as he led the way into a huge warehouse with numerous rooms branching off from the main arena. "We're processing a batch that just came on last night's flight from a big market in Senegal, so you'll get to see what we do to a new purchase to get them started out right."

Lined up 60 long, the slaves were first being given an enema, then showered, then body shaved, then collared, and finally led to a medical examination station where blood, urine, and semen samples were all collected, musculature and bone structure was assessed, and genitals were measured both flaccid and erect, circumcisions were performed on those needing it, and balls were kneaded and weighed before genital rings were welded into place. They were then moved to a station where their tits were pierced, their butts were branded with the de Silva ownership mark, and a GPS location device was embedded deep up their rectum where no one could ever remove it. At the next station, a bar code was tattooed onto the outside of their right arm so it would be easy to identify them the rest of their lives. Any objections to all of this were met with quick, instantaneous use of the electric prods. After an application or two, most of the new slaves never said another word or hesitated in meeting any command outside of the raw screams that the branding and tit-piecing usually produced. Most were, of course, reduced to tears through shame, humiliation and pain, but no one paid the slightest attention to it. Finally, an 'evaluation' team assessed each prepared slave individually and he was classified as to his future training, i.e., drayage, field work, factory work, house slave, personal service slave, etc., although all would receive 'basic' training in instant response to commands in both Portuguese and English, proper display positions, sex usage, personal hygiene, keeping their body in top shape through proper diet and exercise, and identifying symptoms of common slave diseases which needed to be reported to their handler at the appropriate time. The latter two were emphasized as responsibilities of a slave to protect their master's investment in their body and any negligence in this area, like suicide or self-destructive behavior, was seen as a crime against their master, no different than theft - a charge leading to severe consequences for any slave property.

Once general job classifications were decided, slaves had their hair trimmed and/or shaved appropriate for their chosen occupation and appropriate exercise and diet programs were individually prescribed to best enhance the investment.

"Basically, it's fairly simple," Juan said. "Now we're off to the training facilities so you can see what happens to a slave next. I can't show you all of them - we have a separate facility for each general occupation, but I can show you the one they all go to first - the 'basic' training."

What Juan showed me there was harsh, but obviously necessary, although previously owned slaves or bred slaves were waived from this training, it obviously not being necessary. The training started with learning through doing the required positions slaves needed to know: proper kneeling, full display, kneeling display, "at ease," obeisance, etc. It wasn't much different than basic Army training except for the emphasis on proper display of the naked body. Next was command response training in both English and Portuguese; next was 'voice control', e.g. learning to only speak when asked a direct question other than "Yes, Master," "No, Master," "I don't know, Master," "Right away, Master," etc., and who was to be addressed as "Master" and who was to be addressed as "Sir." Also was instruction in how to thank a master for disciplining them, for sexual use of their body, etc. During this stage, the slave lash was used at the slightest hesitation or mistake and repeated mistakes lead to use of the bull whip where lessons learned were invariably permanent at the risk of body scarring. Consequently, the electric prod applied directly to the balls was obviously substituted for this last stage of discipline with about the same results: a permanent change of behavior and attitude. Occasionally, none of these methods seemed to take hold. Then, food deprivation, water deprivation, and sleep deprivation in that order were utilized and invariably worked. There were no martyr slaves in the final analysis!

"This is all pretty common-sense," Juan said as screams and moans of instant punishment filled the air along with wild looks of total despair and beseeching looks toward Juan and I to intervene which we fully ignored, of course. The trainers Juan utilized were good at their work and didn't let anything interfere with 'breaking' the slaves to their new lives. Juan pointed out they believed harshness up front led in the long run to a happier slave and the facts bore them out, although the trainees couldn't see this at this point in their new life obviously. There was never a question as to whether the methods utilized would work. Everyone knew they worked extremely well universally with anything purchased, no matter what that's slave's previous life as a freeman had been like or where they had been obtained.

Next on the Juan's tour was one of the 'specialized' training centers, in this case a center for training 'personal service slaves' where the rickshaws took us at a brisk pace, the slaves pulling us again working up a good sweat in the process.

The place was filled with only the best slaves available in terms of good looks, nice appealing bodies, and all were amply equipped to please most anyone. Most were in their late teens or early twenties, although not all. Most were muscular, well sculptured, and obviously proud of their bodies. Most had extremely handsome faces and exulted a sexual magnetism that only a few slaves seemed to possess. When we entered, the place reeked of animal heat, semen, and old fashioned body sweat. Some were mounted on benches being fucked by the trainers, others were on their knees taking the trainer's huge cocks down their throats, still others were fucking female slaves under the heavy eye of a trainer holding a whip, a few were fucking each other under another trainer's ever ready whip, and still others were standing with their legs spread wide apart, their banded genitals thrust out as far as possible while trainers were "milking" them into small cups which were then passed on to other trainees to drink down in a single gulp. Everywhere one could hear the sounds of gagging and choking as new trainees learned to stretch their throats; slaves gasping in the process of orgasming as they were being sucked off, milked, or fucking; the slurping and munching sounds of experienced cock suckers; and the deep groans (and a few retching screams) of those new to taking a huge cock up their ass.

"A few weeks of this and you're good for anyone's bed," Juan chuckled. "The best thing is, no matter what experiences the slaves have had before in this area - and it's mainly been just fucking their girlfriends or former wives - they learn to like it after a time. The trainers tell me it's because slaves learn a good fucking can be pleasurable once you get used to it, a load of fresh cum tastes good compared with the monotony of slave chow, and fucking on command, like a mistress demands, beats not fucking at all. I think they learn to like it because all slaves crave human contact and this, while no substitute for a relationship with a person you love, is certainly better than no contact at all which is the alternative. You've got to remember, Christian, a slave can't even beat off unless his master or mistress allows it. So this is a hell of a lot better than being 'blue-balled', i..e, forced to sit there with a dripping erect prick and swollen balls a good deal of the time. Of course, the gay boys take to man sex with a vengeance - they're in slave heaven so to speak, but the same could be said for the straight boys sold to a mistress even though they certainly can't just hump and dump like they used to probably."

"Do you sells gay slaves to gay men and straights to the mistresses, then, Juan?" I asked.

"Hell, no, Christian. Why would we limit ourselves like that? Slaves do what they're told and it doesn't matter one iota what their natural inclinations are. That's why we train them! No one gives a shit about a slave's natural bent anyway. They do what they're told to do and that's that."

"I get the picture," I replied meekly, sorry I've even bought up such a stupid question.

"Once they're trained for whatever we have in mind for them - the mines, the factories, the farms, the bedroom, the brothels, whatever - we prepare them for final sales. I'll show you the holding pens and auction room next if you're not bored with all of this," Juan announced.

"Hardly bored, Juan. Fascinated is a better word. Again, I'm so naive in this area I feel like I'm seeing an alternate planet or something. Lead on, if you don't mind, but I would like to see another special training facility if we could. The sex training is interesting, but most slaves are probably sold for labor than sex."

"You're not so naive after all, Christian," Juan laughed. "You're dead right on that. After all, personal service slaves is really only a possibility for the exceptionally good looking and well hung. Most slaves don't qualify and they end up being bought for how much work can be extracted from their bodies with the least amount of trouble extracting that work."

With that, we jumped back in the rickshaw awaiting us outside and were quickly taken to another facility at a fast trot. This facility was a mile or so away and the slaves were breathing hard by the time we got there, again coated with sweat. There had been an incline the whole way but the slaves never slowed down although mine was almost gasping for air by the time we got there.

This facility was outdoors and I witnessed some slaves swinging heavy picks under a constant barrage of whips landing on their backs and rumps any time they slowed the pace. Other slaves were in full harness pulling heavily laden wagons while a driver lashed out at their backs and rumps with a long reaching 'cat of nine tails' whenever they slowed in the slightest. Some slaves were hitched to a plow while their overseer used an electric prod on them whenever it seemed they weren't pulling with full effort. All these slaves were unshaven, had only the rain to wash them, and obviously weren't allowed breaks for their bodily functions - shit was dried on their legs and they just pissed in place. Some already had backs scarred and bleeding. Most had head hair matted with filth. The stench from their bodies wafted up to any observers, including ourselves.

"No one buys slaves like this for their looks," Juan said without apology. "What's important with these slave's bodies is strength, endurance, and disease resistance. What we teach them here is to always perform up to their maximum, ignore the pain of their exhaustion and the discipline that prevents any natural slowdowns, and that any resistance is futile. They learn these things amazingly fast and by the time we market them as draft slaves, they're damn good workers - well worth the money they cost. I guarantee you, Christian," Juan boasted, "these slaves are the cheapest form of labor you can ever come across - hell, they're cheaper than any mechanization that's on the market. Four slaves on a plow is a hell of a lot cheaper, both in original cost as well as maintenance, than the cheapest tractor being sold today and will last just about as long if you pay attention to their feed."

"I imagine that has a lot to do with the popularity of slaves around the world," I ventured.

"Economically, it's the only way to go if you want to remain competitive in most enterprises today, including mining, farming, manning factories - the whole gamut where labor is a major component of the final product.

"Well, I can't take this stench too much longer," I laughed. "I've seen enough here for today. But can we still take in your holding pens and auction facility?"

We quickly returned to the rickshaws where our pullers were silently reminiscing on their own training in this very facility. For some reason, the slave pulling my rickshaw had a huge erection which he couldn't touch since his hands were shackled to the poles of the rickshaw. I supposed he had been denied any sexual relief for some time and it was beginning to show. When I asked Juan about this, he said I was right, but denying a slave any sexual relief often led to a greater work output and most owners made it a practice nowadays, although the downside was seeing a lot of dripping erect pricks among the draft slaves like those in front of us.

Juan must have been right, because without any urging from the whip, the slaves ran at full speed to our destination, a good two miles away, well aware they would face cut rations that night if they didn't as Juan pointed out while we were zooming along.

"Juan, is the slave's good performance due to the sex restrictions or the threat of cut rations?" I yelled over to him as we were jostled along.

"Who cares, Christian. It may be a combination of both. The important thing is in their performance."

Within 12 minutes we were at the sales center, as Juan called it. First we viewed the holding pens. There were hundreds of small cages lining the walls where the slaves up for sale could easily be viewed. They were so small a slave was practically jammed against one set of barred sides or another so anyone had access to all parts of their body in order to inspect them. Of course, most buyers preferred to view them out in front of their cages and all slaves were used to this - upon command they crawled out of their cages and presented themselves in full display position (hands in back of their neck collar, legs spread wide apart, and their pelvis and chest thrust forward) in front of any potential buyer. As we visited, about 12 slaves were out in front of their cages being pawed and fondled in a full inspection. Another 10 or so were being looked at within their cages by those just browsing the whole lot of them.

Juan had most everything available in those holding pens anyone could want - everything from the beautiful pleasure slave to breeding wenches to brutish looking masses of muscles mainly useful in the mines. There was every color and every nationality although the slight majority of his stock was Brazilian of course.

The sales room was basically a theater - a stage with full display lighting with plush individual seating out front for the comfort of the buyers. This place was the only place we had visited so far that was air-conditioned. Where slaves were processed, classified and trained were all steamy and hot, so I wasn't surprised the slaves up on the stage, despite the hot lighting, were shivering a bit in their complete nakedness.

"Do sales go on continually, Juan?" I asked in amazement that a sales was taking place as we were visiting during the early afternoon.

"This is a big operation. We generally have sales going on up until about midnight and starting around 10 in the morning. That way a buyer can shop whenever he likes. Some of the smaller places have scheduled auctions like once a week or so, but that's where our sheer volume can do them in every time. Convenience sells, Christian, as you can see for yourself."

Indeed, I could see. There were about 20 or so in the audience, and a good five of them were in heated competition to buy a huge black draft slave that was ugly as sin but a mass of muscles. The slave looked to be no more than 18 so there were probably decades of good hard work left in him. While we watched, he sold for $98,000 to a Japanese man.

"He got a good buy," Juan commented. "About right for a good draft slave."

Next on the stage was a handsome American boy about 20 or 21 with a nice build, a very light brown skin, blue eyes, a slightly above average prick and black hair. He was being sold as a 'house slave' and brought $231,000 within minutes.

Juan studied the buyer, a huge black man, and chortled. "That boy's been bought by Senor Alcatrar who owns a string of brothels in most of the major Brazilian cities. Senor Alcatrar will get his money back on that boy within five years and still can sell him for $75,000 pure profit as a labor slave. Of course, by then, the boy's washed up sexually, but it won't matter as a labor slave. That's how you get rich, Christian. As I said, listen and learn!"

CHAPTER 8

THREE YEARS LATER:

Juan had been dead right about America's reaction to the availability of slaves. Markets across the U.S. were now flooded with slaves as the government busily offered its entire prison population, emptied the jails, cleared out the rehab centers, and swept up the unemployed - all now offered at public auction to anyone with the wherewithall and the inclination to add human livestock to their home or business.

Everywhere you went you saw slaves in action - so much so, you wondered who did all the work before slavery. They now harvested your food, manned your office, dug the coal and iron ore, built the roads, did most of the construction, filled the labor needs of almost all industrial and manufacturing plants, took over most security posts, quarried the stone and marble, washed the cars, staffed the cattle ranches, did most of the logging, handled all the gardening chores, crewed your yacht, did almost all agricultural chores, drove the trucks and buses, chauffeured the cars, and even cleaned your pools. Not to mention all the dirty work: sewage workers, septic tank cleaners, garbage collectors, landfill workers, etc. The United States, just like Juan's Brazil and most other countries in the world, had embraced the re- institution of slavery with a passion, so much so it was hard to imagine how America had managed before.

At any rate, the bulk of America's work was now being done cheaply, efficiently, and well. After all, there were no wages or fringe benefits to be paid and slaves were cheap enough to buy due to the huge supply. Efficiency was obtained with a good overseer who wasn't afraid to use the whip and the electric prods as needed. Food was nothing more than the cheap slave chow that had been developed; clothing was nothing since most slaves were kept nude or dressed in next to nothing; and shelter was as simple as a cellblock with a few bunks and a shower if you were fancy and a blanket for sleeping on the floor and a bucket if you wanted to cut costs to the bone. Quality work was assured through keeping slaves sex- deprived all the time and then granting sex relief as a work privilege; access to extra portions of slave chow or a rest break occasionally, and, if that didn't work, branding, the bull whip, and tasers were great motivators that seemed to work universally well with most any slave, no matter what his background or temperament.

Christian thought that he could have predicted as much himself. He remembered three years ago when Juan had taken him along to visit a friend in San Paulo where he really had a chance to see what was going in the 'real society' outside the heavy specialized atmosphere of a slave breeding, breaking, training, and sales facility that made up the essence of Juan's 'ranch.' Juan friend's estate was some 55 miles away from San Paulo - a secluded spot along the coast, much like Juan's ranch.

But, in transit, Christian saw slaves were now everywhere the eye could see in Brazil doing practically everything imaginable. They were easy to spot - almost always stripped to the buff or with most of their body showing; usually an overseer within a whip's length distance from them; and often manacled by their feet, their hands, or their neck. Some had been branded with their owner's mark , especially those owned by a business or corporation. All had a clearly visible slave identification mark tattooed where everyone could easily spot the number and a scanner could read the bar code. The scenes he remembered in Brazil from three years ago were no different that those throughout America now other than the language being used to command the slaves in their tasks.

On that trip, I remembered I noticed it didn't take long for almost all slaves to acquire a decent musculature - their hard work required it along with a tanned hide to protect them from the sun. Consequently, many slaves, especially the slaves in their late teens or twenties, were often nice to look at with their muscular builds, their nice physiques, and all of them totally exposed for public view. Many of them showed hard a good deal of the time. By that time, I understood this was due to most owners not allowing their slaves any sexual relief except as a rarely earned reward. (Christian chuckled to himself that he'd be hard all the time too if he couldn't get off regularly!). Thinking back, I reflected that even then I could figure out why slaves were rapidly finding their ways into their owner's beds. Again, Christian reflected, the Brazilian slaves were no different than America's slaves now.

Just recently, my friend Will here in New York had purchased a handsome and most muscular 18-year-old black boy as a gardener. It wasn't three days until that boy was being fucked by his new owner on a regular basis and had learned to give a great blow job within two weeks. By the third week of ownership, the black boy had been loaned to me overnight in exchange for loan of my own brown slave I had brought from Juan on my trip down to his ranch. After one night with that boy, he reminded me of Niger, the black slave I had enjoyed so much on my visit to Juan's ranch and I vowed I'd purchase a pure black within a month if I could find one looking anywhere near as good as this well hung (and I must say most compliant) black boy. As my friend Will pointed out, you bought a slave to do a job, like gardening. But that didn't mean their duties stopped there. He advised me to keep that in mind when I was buying any slave for some specific job to be done - there was always the possibility they could serve you sexually as well.

Sex or not, slaves were now being used for practically everything throughout all 50 states. There was practically nothing where slaves couldn't be effectively utilized within American society.

Again, I reflected on my memories of my visit to Juan's friend, Colombo, over three years ago. When Juan and I arrived at his friend's estate, Colombo had obviously embraced the easy availability of slaves nowadays. I noticed naked slaves seemed to be everywhere, but Juan, used to all this, barely looked at them. It was obvious Colombo had most anything available, especially livestock with two legs, that he could possibly want. As Colombo had graciously showed me around (kindly switching to English for my comfort), he said he had a dozen slaves altogether now and was thinking of buying a few more in that there was always something for them to do outside of just looking pretty and making themselves available at any time for his pleasure and amusement.

I had asked him at the time if he ever had trouble with any of his slaves.

"Never, never, Christian," he replied adamantly. "Buy from a good reputable dealer, like Juan here. They make sure they're completely trained before they sell them off. You buy a slave cheap from a shoddy dealer and you're likely to end up with a slave without a lick of training, a resentful attitude in his eyes, and a lot of trouble. You can spot a rogue slave easy enough, Christian. They generally have a lot of whip scars all over their body showing you they haven't responded to their training or, more likely, they haven't had any, a wild look of rebellion in their eyes, and they're generally kept in close restraints. A well trained slave doesn't need restraints, has a look of total acceptance in his eyes even when you're fondling him, and he seems like he's eager to find an owner. That's why it's important to handle a slave thoroughly before signing the ownership papers: a well trained slave is used to having his genitals manipulated right in public, has acclimated to being milked to test his output, and doesn't mind having his tits played with or his balls hefted and squeezed. That's important even if you're not buying a slave for sex purposes - accepting a good handling is a sure sign of accepting his status as nothing more than a piece of property - that's what they are now, after all!"

That advice seemed so familiar I wondered if every Brazilian school boy learned it by rote! I remembered at the time that Juan had given me almost exactly the same advice at some time or another.

Colombo had his chauffeur slave serving as a valet for our car upon our arrival, another dazzlingly beautiful slave to open the front door, an older slave butler to manage the house supervising a number of teenage 'house slaves,' a most attractive bath slave to unpack my clothes and help me wash, a trio of stunning waiters that served dinner - one for each of us, a slew of rougher looking slaves keeping the grounds in order and managing the stables (he was into polo heavily), and he stated immediately that I was welcome to use any that appealed to me whenever I wanted. Colombo didn't need to turn a finger and could pick and choose among his slaves whenever he wanted sex of any type.

During that same venture, Colombo, Juan and I had visited a slave dealer that very afternoon in San Paulo in that Colombo was looking for yet another slave and Juan enjoyed studying the competition. Both thought the visit would be instructive for me since I was so 'naive' about slaves at that time. We visited the most prestigious and, according to Juan, certainly the priciest slave dealer in San Paulo.

The dealership was a long way from the seedy little stalls you saw slaves being sold at throughout the city of San Paulo. This one looked, well, sort of like a fine jeweler's sales room: lots of marble floors, glistening glass windows, crystal chandeliers, and the best quality leather furniture

A salesman dressed impeccably greeted the three of us promptly.

"Did you have an appointment?" he politely asked.

"Yes, I'm Colombo Sanchez. I have a 5 o'clock appointment."

"Of course, Senor Sanchez. We're all set up to give your friends a little tour of our facility which will include an overview of our training facility, some of the current inventory in our holding pens, and, if you wish, we can arrange viewing of available stock in our sales room which will be stocked with drinks and snacks for your enjoyment. I might add, Senor Sanchez, your bank called as instructed and has given us clearance to charge any purchases you might want to make to your account. We handle all the paperwork, of course, as you have requested before when you bought stock from us, so a purchase is simply a gentleman's agreement if that's all right with you."

"Fine," Colombo replied.

"In that case, let's start with a quick view of our intake room - that's where we keep fresh stock just coming in that we've purchased. Totally untrained, totally unprepared for the market, just raw material that will take a lot of work and polish before it's marketable. But I thought your friends would be interested as well as yourself, possibly."

"I'm sure my friends would be interested and I'm always curious about new stock - it can always be trained to exact specification, after all," Columbo acknowledged the salesman.

With that, the salesman led the three of us into a large warehouse-type facility holding hundreds of individual cages and cells, most of which held an unwashed, naked body either clinging to the bars peering out in desperation, or sunk back in fatigue and despair. I did notice the bodies were basically show quality despite their dirt and grime and the smell was fairly well controlled by huge ventilation fans located throughout the building. The cages all had open mesh floors above a drain-like arrangement so that body waste could be flushed away every 15 minutes or so with an automatic flushing machine.

I was fascinated and could see from just a cursory inspection why the dealership had purchased them: they all showed a lot of promise once properly processed and trained. Most of them seemed to have a rough idea of what lay ahead for them. They'd been around long enough to have observed for themselves what slaves did and what the expectations were for slaves in today's society. Their worry and apprehension was as to how they could acclimate to the rigorous training they would be subjected to; what their new owners would be like; and just what they would be expected to do by those new owners. But they were smart enough to know that being purchased by a high priced dealer noted for handling quality goods was a good start at being a slave. They were likely to be well trained for their future life; were likely to sell to a well-heeled owner; and were likely to sell for a very high price. They weren't so dumb they didn't realize that the more paid for the goods, in general the better the goods would be treated.

"I was planning on showing your friends one of our training facilities. But, Senor Sanchez, I'm sure you're well familiar with the training routines we employ here. If you would like, I can have a slave take you back to the viewing rooms where you can begin looking over stock we're offering today."

"I'll stay with my friends. The tour won't take long and it's always instructive to see slaves in the midst of their training," Colombo responded in his gracious tone.

The next room the salesman showed us was one of the dealer's training facilities, in this case the salesman had chosen to visit the sex training facility. The salesman said all slaves sold by the dealership, regardless of what they were presumably purchased for, received full sexual training to they could satisfy the desires of almost any master or mistress that may purchase them.

"A slave never knows when an owner might take a fancy for his body. It's far better for a slave if he knows exactly what to expect and how to best handle the demands made upon him. Don't you agree?"

"Of course," Colombo promptly agreed. "Besides, he'll probably change hands several times at the minimum, so a slave never knows what his next owner might want regardless of who buys him the first time around."

"Exactly, Senor Sanchez," the salesman replied, obviously pleased his customer was interested in the training process. "Although most slaves in this price range can hardly expect to not be used by someone or other in their new home. It might be a master or mistress, one of their sons or daughters, a visiting friend or business colleague, a dinner guest, or perhaps their overseer or house steward. A slave never really knows who might find his body enjoyable."

It was obvious once we entered the room just how well trained the slaves from this particular dealership were going to be. During the brief visit, it was clear sucking, taking a good fucking, giving a good fuck, licking, rimming, and almost everything imaginable was being tutored. The slaves in training were intent on their tasks and barely noticed there were visitors in the room watching them. Either that, or part of their training had included learning to accept the fact others would be watching them in sexual activities in their new lives.

"All of these seem to accept their duties pretty well. Has it taken long to get them to this point?" I ventured to ask.

"A few weeks, generally. At first, we generally get some resistance. But once they discover sex of most any type - not just the type they're probably used to already - has pleasures of its own, the resistance just flows away. Sex training is mainly teaching the slave he can enjoy being used for sex - not as much as his user, probably - but still there's some pleasure in the acts themselves. Of course, they must learn their main function is to bring pleasure to whomever using them - they're not in somebody's bed to pleasure themselves!" he chortled at the very thought of it.

"That would especially be true when they're forbidden to shoot off, I imagine, like when a mistress might want to use a stud over and over before she's totally satisfied," I ventured a comment again despite my lack of experience in this area.

"Exactly, sir," the salesman said. "A slave has to learn his enjoyment is within parameters set by his user - not himself. It's a hard lesson to learn, but it can be learned in a few weeks at most."

"And, if they don't?" Juan asked, never revealing his dealership was much larger and much more elaborate than this one.

"The whip is always instructive, sir," the salesman said with a smirk.

The sex training room had a heavy smell of sweat and cum permeating the room which gave it a heady atmosphere that was arousing in and of itself. I couldn't help but speculate on how long it would take to get me"fully trained" as the salesman put it and shared this thought with Juan, standing beside me.

"An hour or so from what I've seen back at my ranch," Juan whispered as we both tried to control our laughter.

"I don't want to hurry you, sirs, but I'd like to show Senor Sanchez some of the slaves we have on display for immediate sale - all fully trained and with a 90-day guarantee, of course."

"Yes, it will be interesting to see just what you've got available today," Colombo responded. "I take it there's a set price on the goods if they're not up for auction, like before?"

"Yes, we continue to have a suggested selling price listed for each one," the salesman said, patting a little book he had in his hand. "Of course, we offer 5% off for cash or credit card purchases and we offer a discount for multiple purchases on the same day. Perhaps your friends might be interested in a purchase as well, Senor Sanchez," he added hopefully. "Even if you're not in the market, you may see some goods you see some use for," he continued, his eyes sparkling as he was obviously referring to a body so appealing we couldn't do without buying it on the spot.

"Discounts? How much?" Juan asked with his usual professional demeanor.

"Ten percent off the total for two purchases; 15% for three purchases; 20% for four. After that, it's 25% up until 10 purchases; then it's 35% and even greater for large quantity purchases," the salesman responded by rote.

We entered the display room and I was impressed. Even Juan seemed to be impressed. First, there was a nice variety. Second, all the stock was obviously top quality. Third, even a cursory inspection revealed the stock had fully accepted the fact they were property there to be sold. I reminded myself any slave I bought in the future (outside of the handsome brown slave I had already bought from Juan) in New York would have be of this level of quality or I'd eventually be disappointed with the slave. But, with further inspection and Juan's coaching, it was quickly apparent even this quality dealer had a large variety on sale: from the fresh to the well used; from the young to the past their prime; from the eager to those accepting but lacking that extra spark of enthusiasm. And the pricing, Juan pointed out to me, certainly revealed the dealership knew what the qualities were worth in the marketplace.

"Is this all you have available today?" Colombo asked rather pointedly..

"No, we can show you others. Any particular preferences?" the salesman answered.

"The best quality you've got," Colombo replied immediately. "Remember I'm a repeat customer who has dealt here for years."

With that subtle reminder of the buyer's expectations, the salesman took the three of us to another room, less elegantly furnished - obviously a storage area with an outside exercise yard.

"As you probably remember, Senor Sanchez, It you'd like, you can check out any of these boys in private. We have a small but comfortable room available for customers interested in trying a boy out for themselves before purchase. Just to make sure!" the salesman said pointing to a nicely decorated cottage about 50 feet away. "We understand that buying a slave from us is a major investment and customers often appreciate a trial run so to speak. That same privilege extends over to your friends, of course, Senor Sanchez."

"I thought you guaranteed your stock?" Juan countered.

"We do, sir. But still, a lot of customers prefer to thoroughly test out a slave before purchasing."

"Most dealers offer testing in public," Juan whispered to me. "My place certainly does in that many people are buying slaves for resale, not for their own use necessarily. Therefore, they see no need in private testing - neither they or certainly not the slave being used have any privacy concerns. Some people I sell to are simply agents for potential owners who might not be interested and don't want to bother with the hassle of buying a slave themselves. And some of my customers have agents buy slaves merely as gifts they give out to their corporate clients or good friends in which case they just want to make sure the slave can perform sexually in public as well as in private."

The salesman noticed Juan whispering to me and interpreted it as a request to test the slaves out publicly.

"I understand, sir. Check them out all you want. Are there any out here or in the other room that you find of possible interest?"

"Yes," Colombo interjected. "I'll like to buy the half-breed displayed on a pole selling for $310,000; the black boy with the huge dick you're asking $430,000 for; the pure white American boy at $455,000; and the 18-year-old brown teenager selling for $298,000. That would give me four for a discount of 20% off the total with another 5% off for cash. That's 1.12 million roughly. I'll buy all four for 1.1 million even."

"You're quick with figures, Senor Sanchez," the salesman said, somewhat astonished.

"Yes, I'm not wealthy by accident," Colombo replied rather hautily.

"Let me check with the owner of the dealership, sir. I don't want to pay that $20,000 additional discount out of my own pocket," he replied anxiously.

"Tell him that's only $5,000 off each slave and at the prices he's charging, that's nothing," Colombo replied.

"Well, there's always some negotiation," the salesman admitted and he scurried to see the owner of the establishment.

"Does your friend Colombo always decide things this fast?" I asked Juan, astonished myself. "I thought we came to buy just one slave."

"Colombo doesn't like to dilly-dally around and I suppose he liked the looks of those four. He's getting a good deal on them if the dealer acquiesces to his offer," Juan replied.

"How about it, Juan? Could you do any better on these four?" Colombo asked.

"No, my friend," Juan replied with a big smile. "In fact, at that price, I may buy them off of you and take them back to my dealership for a quick, but profitable resale."

Within minutes, the salesman returned with an elderly gentleman Colombo instantly recognized from his country club.

"Well, Colombo, into buying some more meat, are you?" the man said laughingly. He glanced at the four selected for purchase. "Mighty pricey meat at that. Well, what the hell, as the price you're paying, $20,000 discount isn't too hard to swallow. They're yours at 1.1 mil and I don't think for a minute you'll regret paying that for them."

"Neither do I or I wouldn't be here buying," Colombo said.

Turning to Juan, the owner acknowledged him as a fellow dealer. "Senor de Silva, it's an honor to have you visit this small establishment. What do you think, although I'm surprised my good friend Colombo didn't buy his new meat from you. Are you planning to resell this stock at your own dealership in the near future?"

"Well, I just might when our mutual friend here has his fill of them. And, in answer to your first question, I heartily approve of your dealership. Nice presentation, nice selection, obviously good training. And your salesman was properly zealous in trying to dispose of some of your properties for you," Juan glanced at the salesman who blushed at the high compliment. "Feel free to visit my own modest establishment whenever you get a chance. It's always interesting to compare our operations."

"I may just do that, but if I buy any stock there, I expect the same discount I'm giving you on these pieces of meat," the dealer laughed as he slapped Juan on the back heartily.

"You buy four high priced ones off of me and I'll give you a lousy $20,000 off list," Juan countered.

"The salesman said you didn't even try them out before buying them," the dealer said bemused turning to Colombo. "Are you that straight or fucking slaves isn't your thing?"

"I enjoy a slave now and then as well as the best of them, but I've got plenty of time for that later. I thought a guarantee was a guarantee. If I don't think they perform up to standards, I fully intend to bring them right back! I just wasn't in the mood right now in the heat of the afternoon."

"Fair enough," the dealer said, handing Colombo all the ownership papers already signed and notarized and now delivered by his secretary. "You want me to ship them to your estate or are you going to take them with you. If so, it will be these boys first ride in a Maserati Quattro, I'll wager," letting Colombo know the dealer was even aware of what type of car the three of them had arrived in.

"I'll take them with me if they're really clean."

"They are. We always polish them inside and out before displaying them."

"Good. Three in the trunk, and that $480,000 black in the front seat with me. I don't want him bruised in any way at that price and, besides, I want to see if that prick's as big and yummy as it looks."

"It is, Senor Sanchez" the dealer assured him. "And enjoy!"

Juan told me later that Colombo did enjoy his new purchases over and over during the next few days. He added that Colombo decided they were well worth what he had paid for them, especially when he knew he could get a lot more from them peddled to the right people, including Juan's own dealership. In the interim, he fully intended to take full advantage of his investment. It was obvious right from the beginning the training was so good there would be no question of returning them under the guarantee.  CHAPTER 9

I now had two slaves under my roof. The magnificent brown sex slave Juan had sold me in Brazil over three years had arrived about a week or so after I got back to New York City from that trip and has been in my bed ever since. And, just a month or so ago, my friend Will sold me his 18-year-old black gardener I enjoyed so much when he loaned him to me a while back, having bought a new, even younger red haired boy to take over the gardening duties at his suburban home.

[It seems Will had attended an obscure uncle's funeral in Kansas and saw the boy for sale at a local dealership. A court mandated sale, the boy had only been 16 when he was first arrested for car theft, judged guilty, and sentenced to slavery. The court had the boy sent to the regional state slave training facility and there the boy learned what his new life held for him. Fortunately, he was well built, well hung, and very good looking and took to his training well. Sent back to the court when his training was completed, he was assigned to a local dealer who sold him to Will just two days after they had him in their pens. Once purchased and in Will's New York home, the young slave did all of the gardening as well as serving Will's sexual needs.]

I made sure both of my slaves kept themselves in top shape, having them practice their training routines daily when not in use. Both slaves knew I would get rid of them instantly if they ever lost any of their abilities to please me or any of my guests.

Having two slaves at my disposal was a nice arrangement. I could choose brown or black dependent on my mood and have both if I was feeling particularly horny. When I wasn't up to fucking them, they fucked each other for my amusement. Similarly, they performed at small dinner parties to the amusement of my guests, usually such tableaus ending with them being loaned out to first one guest and then another until all my guests were satiated with compliant slave flesh. I could also loan one of the slaves out to a business associate overnight as a special favor without emptying my own bed in the process. The slave chow to feed them was cheap enough and both were easy enough to keep caged in the basement of my townhouse when I wasn't around. After I had bought the young black, I wondered how I had managed with just one slave, the handsome brown I had bought in Brazil. Of course, I mused, not long after the brown slave had arrived from Brazil, I couldn't imagine how I had managed with no slave at all before his arrival. Slaves seemed to have an addictive quality to them!

I wasn't long after I had added Will's black slave to my 'staff' that Juan called to tell me he would be taking a business trip to New York the following week and wondered if I could put him up.

"Put you up, Juan?" I laughed. "You make it sound like you're asking me to set a pup tent up on the roof. Of course, I'll 'put you up,' as you call it. In fact, I may even be damn decent and actually host you, you old rascal. You know damn well I've got a guest suite in the townhouse just waiting for you, I've got full time to devote to your visit, and," I paused, "I've even got a beautiful brown slave you sold me you've fucked many a time before and who will be more than happy to have you fuck him again. In fact, Juan," I paused dramatically, "I've even got a new 18-year-old American black slave I've named 'Beauty' that, to the best of my knowledge, has never been fucked by a Brazilian master. I'm sure he'll look forward to it."

"Well, I didn't want to put you out or anything," Juan laughed, "although the accommodations sound interesting and I'm not talking about that damn guest suite of yours. Maybe I won't need to bring a slave or two along with me as I had originally planned."

"That depends on what you were bringing, Juan. As you probably remember, I've never been adverse to a little variety now and then and I've got plenty of spare cages in the basement."

"Well, I was thinking of giving Thor a short break from studding, Christian, and he's never lost that rather charming resentment of being fucked himself. I know you appreciated that in him as much as I do. Fucking a slave who doesn't mind it too much is one thing - fucking a slave who hates every minute of it is a much more interesting experience, don't you agree?"

I laughed as I remembered when I first asked Thor whether he liked being fucked and, without hesitation, he answered with a simple "no." It did make fucking him more fun somehow.

"I do agree now that you bring it up, Juan. And, you know, Juan, I haven't bedded down a blond since I fucked Thor. Can you believe it?"

"Thor is in, then, Christian. Anything else that would turn you on?" Juan chuckled.

"Thor's plenty as a house gift, Juan, but if you bring something else, surprise me," I replied. "When can I expect you? We can pick you up at Kennedy in the Lexus - yes, I still have the same one that matches the brown slave's hide color that you sold me."

"I'm coming in my private jet, Christian. Just got it last week and want to try it out. We'll land at a private airport In New Jersey, just across the river from you, and save you a long trip. Therefore, I can get there anytime you want, but it will take me a good six hours air time to get there, so how about 3 P.M. next Wednesday afternoon your time? We'll land at the Rogers Air Service airport, right off of Interstate 1, Exit 15, first exit after you leave Lincoln Tunnel. It should take you about a half hour to get there from your town house with mid- afternoon traffic. Think that brown boy I sold you can manage chauffeuring that Lexus there without too much trouble?"

"I'll be there to pick you up, Juan, and yes, 'Rico' as I named that brown slave, can manage driving me there. But if you're coming by private jet, I'm sure you're going to have more than Thor along with you. I can't imagine you on a six-hour trip in a private jet just sitting there reading a magazine and fucking Thor can't possibly take six hours, resentful or not. My guess is you'll have one or two more slaves onboard just for your own amusement and then you'll claim it was simply so I could enjoy them. I know you like a book by now, Juan," I joked. "But, just remember, I've got 'Rico' for you to reacquaint yourself with as well as a beautiful piece of black fresh just coming into full manhood. If you bring Thor, that ought to be enough for the two of us."

"Maybe for you, Christian," Juan laughed. "But you forget I'm used to having hundreds of slaves around at any given time. You don't want me to feel starved, do you?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Juan. Bring whatever you want. As I said, there's plenty of cages in my basement and I'm always open to some new slave meat."

"I knew you'd see it my way, Christian. See you next Wednesday and lay in plenty of slave chow and K-Y," Juan chuckled as he hung up.

I wondered just what sort of business Juan needed to conduct in New York. It was either management of his holdings, like when I had first met him, or something to do with buying or selling slaves. It could be he would have the new private jet stuffed full of slaves he was delivering to a New York buyer, including the heavily used stud, Thor.

I reflected on the blond stud, Thor, briefly. Even when I was in Brazil three years ago, he had already fucked more at age 21 than most men do in three lifetimes. By now, he surely was near the wearing out point. Juan used to brag that he had sired 1000 new properties to sell - by now, Lord knows how many wenches he had knocked up? !500? 2000? Four times a day, seven days a week - the only relief the white stud got was when he was being fucked himself by Juan or one of the ranch's guests. I wondered if Thor, by this time, actually welcomed being fucked by whoever just to break the monotony and to give his balls some relief. I didn't think for a minute, though, that Thor was on that plane just for my benefit. Juan always enjoyed fucking him, simply because he believed the slave resented it so, and I couldn't help wondering if Thor had been sold to someone here in New York and wouldn't find out until his new master or mistress appeared to pick him up. He was, after all, surely nearing the end of his stud run and Juan was always one to sell off before a slave depreciated too much.

Juan's private jet was larger than I thought it would be. I envisioned the model holding 5 or 6 people; this model looked like it could handle 10 or more - considerably more if most of the seats had been removed and replaced by small slave cages stacked one on top of another which I suspected was the case.

When Juan stepped off the plane, everything went smoothly. He had electronically handled the paperwork for his entry and even set up the forms on his computer to pay the import fees on any slaves he sold here in the United States. When Rico recognized his former master, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head as Juan acknowledged his old slave with a ruffle through the slave's hair.

"Master," Rico said in greeting reverently.

"You still look good enough to fuck," Juan acknowledged the greeting. "Your owner has invited me to do just that when I get settled in," Juan laughed, "and I have little doubt that

I will - just to see if you are as good in bed as you used to be back in Brazil. Or has the big city dampened your ardor a bit?"

"No, master, this slave is as good as he's ever been," Rico replied humbly. "You'll see when you fuck me, master."

"Glad to hear it, slave," Juan said as he went over to kiss me on both cheeks - a custom he still retained.

"Welcome to the Big Apple, Juan," I said, "it's been way too long!" After all these years, I felt myself quickly responding to him, namely a huge hard-on which Juan noticed instantly.

"You ARE glad to see me, Christian," he chuckled, eyeing my crotch meaningfully. "I'd be all hard and leaking too if I hadn't of overdone it on the plane a bit with some of the stock I brought along, but the sentiment is there just the same," as he gave me a really big hug, squeezing my butt as he did so.

"I just knew you've have more than Thor on that plane," I said as five stunning slave specimens stretched and yawned as they crawled out of their cages and came down the steps one by one. Each was very muscular, totally naked, body shaved, and ringed around the neck, around their balls, and through their tits. All five were hugely endowed and had exceptionally handsome faces. Each was a different color: Nordic blonde, Mediterranean dark olive, Nigerian jet black, Polynesian brown, and Chinese yellow. All were fully developed but none looked to be over 23 or so. When they reached the tarmac, each went into full display position with their heads lowered, obviously expecting me to look them over.

As I took the five in, standing with their legs spread wide apart and their hands grasping the back of their slave collars with their banded genitals thrust out for my convenience in handling them, another handsome slave was coming down the steps. It was Thor - handsome as ever and seemingly none the worse for wear. His huge prick and balls were just as big as I remembered and his rampant erection indicated he still had no trouble in displaying his assets properly.

"You brought six slaves, Juan?" I chortled. "With my two, that's eight slaves between the two of us. What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"Nonsense, Christian. I want you to try each of these boys out when you get a chance, but, actually, all six are potentially sold. That's why I had to come to New York - a buyer has an option on these six he picked off the internet inventory, but wanted to personally inspect them, of course, before plunking down hard cash. I've got a 10% non-refundable deposit on each of them to guarantee I wouldn't loose the cost of bringing them up here if he decides not to exercise his option. But, what the hell, even if he doesn't - it will be easy enough to find a buyer here in New York. The market's hot here right now and prices are astronomical. A good time to sell off excess stock - you might think of it yourself, Christian."

I strolled over to the six on full display (Thor had now joined the line and he too was properly displaying himself) and gave each a rather cursory inspection, mainly weighing their balls in my hand, running my hand over their sculptured pecs, tweaking their nipple rings, and fondling their long, thick dicks to a full throbbing erection. All stood perfectly still for the body inspection with their pelvises thrust forward for my convenience.

"They probably think you're the one buying them," Juan laughed. "But God knows how many times they're going to be looked over before they're someone else's property."

"They are damn tempting, Juan," I commented. "You shouldn't have any trouble selling them. Hell, I'm tempted myself."

"Don't decide anything until you fuck them, Christian. Then you'll know they not only look pretty but are perfectly trained to bring the upmost pleasure to any new owner," Juan boasted.

The blond, the dark olive, and the jet-black slave all blushed deeply and had tears running down their cheeks as the wanton use of their bodies was discussed so openly with this total stranger. Juan noticed it also.

"Slaves showing a little shame and humiliation makes them all the more attractive, don't you think, Christian? I know it generally adds a good 5% to their price when they're auctioned off. Those three getting all teary on you are fairly new to their slavery and just fresh out of training. The Polynesian boy was born into it and the Chinese boy had at least three masters before I bought him. And, of course, Thor has been around forever - he's well past the crying and blushing stage, but," Juan laughed, "he still resents the hell out of getting fucked up his ass."

"Frankly, Juan, I'm old fashioned enough to think I would blush too when I was standing in front of a total stranger with someone's hand around my prick and all the talk is about fucking me when it's convenient."

"That's the Catholic in you, Christian. All three of those embarrassed boys you're playing around with were heavy in religion in their previous lives. They still don't seem to understand nothing a 'sin' when you're a slave and you're ordered to do something you were taught was wrong when you were free. What's 'right' and what's 'wrong' isn't in a slave's province - those things are up to his master or mistress. You watch, a few months from now and all that blushing and shame and looks of humiliation and crying will all be gone . Too bad. That sort of thing jacks their price up, as I said."

By then, a small slave delivery van had arrived that Juan had arranged for transport of his stock and all six were ordered to crawl into the van's small cages. Christian had seen the special DHL "Livestock Delivery" trucks all over New York but never knew what the insides were like until now.

"Are you sure you can cage all six in your basement, Christian?" Juan asked. "I can have them put in a public kennel if you prefer. There are a number of them not far from your townhouse that do a decent job of taking care of stock in transit."

"No problem, Juan. I've got plenty of spare cages and I stocked up on lots of slave chow. Rico can take care of feeding and watering them and can even get them all cleansed out and polished when that potential buyer wants to look them over. Besides," I smiled, "it's sort of inconvenient to go to the public kennel and check them out everytime we want to fuck them. We'd spend as much time going back and forth to the kennel than we would screwing them."

"Point well taken," Juan said as he gave the delivery van driver my address and told him to take his time so he wouldn't beat us back.

"No problem," the delivery van driver said cheerfully. "I've got two more pickups here in Jersey before I head back to Manhattan."

"You got enough cage space?" Juan asked the driver.

"No problem," the driver said cheerfully as he thumbed through his papers. "Let's see here. Pickup of three females and one male being transferred from the 'Paradise, Inc.' branch not far from here to the branch in lower Manhattan - that's one of those huge brothel chains all over the East Coast. They always seem to be switching their stock from one location to another - I suppose it gives the customers at each location a constant supply of fresh ones to choose from. And five draft slaves just shipped in at the Newark airport from the Congo for delivery to the New York sanitation department. That's just nine more altogether and the truck's fitted with 20 cages, mister."

Juan signed some papers and got a receipt for his stock. Rico, always sexually excited when around new slaves, was fully erect as he opened the back door of the Lexus for us. Soon we were on our way to Manhattan.

"You're right, Christian," Juan observed enthusiastically, "Rico's hide is a perfect match for the car's upholstery. I can see why you keep the car."

"And Rico," I laughed. "As long as he doesn't fade on me. But I do make it a point to keep him out of the sun as much as I can. He'd be too dark otherwise."

"It's been three years since I've been up your ass, Rico," Juan said pointedly to the chauffeur. "You still put out as well as you did back in Brazil?"

"Yes, master," Rico responded with a big smile. "Even better, master."

"Well, we'll see about that before I leave, if that's alright with your master," Juan shot back.

"Yes, master," Rico said, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror to ascertain my wishes in the matter.

"Anytime you want, Juan. You're our guest here, remember, and everything, including both my slaves, are at your full disposal."

"Yes, master," Rico replied in response to my announcement and smiled invitingly at Juan in the mirror.

After we got back to my house, Juan took a long shower, fucked Rico, and took another shower before joining me for a late supper. The black boy I had named Beauty served the meal. He too had just body shaved, cleaned his insides out, showered, greased himself up, and oiled his body until it glistened in preparation for serving the meal. As usual, his dress was his polished collar, his tit rings, and his thick genital band. He managed to serve the entire meal, start to finish, with a full erection.

"The boy's well trained," Juan said, "and the food's delicious. Did the boy prepare it too?"

"Yes, he's quite a little cook, among other things," I said, happy the slave pleased my guest. "You want him in your bed tonight? He's unusually skilled for a slave so young."

"Why not?" Juan said. "But not before midnight or so. It'll take me that long to juice up again reacquainting myself with Rico just a short time ago. And, Christian, I'll probably be sleeping in tomorrow morning, but Beauty here can slip out after I'm asleep to make sure your breakfast is served when you want it. Tomorrow night, I'd like to get in the saddle with Rico again, if the invitation still holds."

"Sure does, whenever you want," I replied, toying with my dessert by now, a delicious custard Beauty had prepared to perfection.

"Which of my boys did you want to start with?" Juan said. "Thor first?"

"Later, I said. Tonight I'd like to sample that new blonde and that Mediterranean slave as a starter. It's been a while since I've had any white slaves. Thor can wait to get fucked a little while longer. I really got turned on when those slaves teared up when I was handling them. You're right, Juan. It does add something to their appeal. Will they turn bright red in embarrassment and start sobbing when I fuck them?"

"Probably, but they'll be totally cooperative nevertheless. They've been thoroughly trained to deliver total satisfaction no matter what you want them to do. The blushing and crying is just a bonus. But, you're smart to fuck them tonight. If everything goes well, someone else will be fucking their new property by tomorrow night. You sure you don't want the other three new ones while you have a chance? I can't guarantee what will be in those cages by tomorrow night, Christian."

"Two's plenty, but if I wake up in the morning really all charged up, I'll have Rico bring me up some others when he returns the two. Seems a shame not to sample all the goodies when they're as close as a basement cage, Juan."

The next morning, Beauty served a nice breakfast, although it was obvious he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep and he was walking sort of bull-legged like his butt was mighty sore.

"Looks like you earned your keep last night, Beauty," I joked as I started in on my omelette.

"Yes, master. Your friend knows how to thoroughly use a slaveboy," Beauty replied in a non-judgmental tone.

"I've seem him fuck a slave, Beauty. He's pure master when it comes to fucking a slave - a little rough for the slave, maybe."

"Yes, master," Beauty smiled as he rubbed his ass knowingly.

Rico reported in by kneeling beside the breakfast table.

"Master need me for anything?" Rico asked.

"Everything all right down in the cages? Did you get all of them cleaned up inside and out, body shaved, oiled, greased, and fed and watered this morning, Rico?"

"Yes, master. I finished all that before I reported to you up here, master."

Rico looked at me, obviously seeking permission to add something to his report.

"Permission to speak, Rico," I said.

"Those are mighty handsome slaves down there. They should sell for a lot of money."

"Yes, Rico. Maybe," I snickered, "as much as I had to pay for your brown hide."

"Yes, master," Rico said, obviously proud he had brought a good price at his sale.

That afternoon, Juan awoke, put on a few clothes and flew into action on his cell phone. Within an hour, a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties arrived at the town house and Juan was showing him all six of his slaves, now gleaming in a fresh coat of body oil and in full display position in my living room. Rico and Beauty were behind me ready to help out in any way if they were needed. Both my slaves were quite excited at seeing some beautiful specimens of manhood being sold right in their master's living room.

Juan's client was thorough, never hurried himself, and obviously knew exactly how to assess slave flesh. Each slave had every muscle and organ in his body prodded and pulled, pinched, and squeezed. His eyes, teeth, balls, tits, and prick received special inspection along with a slow, thorough examination of each slave's anal chute and throat with probing fingers, dildos and plugs, the last two of which he had brought with him in all sizes and shapes in a small suitcase. It took him a good hour to complete his examination which included every square inch of the slave's skin, his feet, his hair, and even his tongue and the insides of his nose and ears. If those slaves didn't feel like a piece of property before, they sure as hell did now, I thought to myself as I admired the client's complete and thorough assessment. Juan's slaves stood up well to the exam despite an occasional gasp or moan as yet another aspect of their body was explored. The three that had blushed yesterday stood silently as tears spilled down their cheeks the entire time of the inspection, but, to their credit, they never flinched or resisted in any way to the probing fingers that treated them as nothing more than a piece of prime meat. Which, I thought to myself, is exactly what they are!

"Prime meat here, Juan," the client announced at last. "I can't find a thing wrong with them, although, of course, what they'll be like in action is something else again. But, life's a gamble, isn't it. I'll take all of them at the option price."

"Even the stud slave?" Juan asked, obviously pleased the sale had gone so smoothly.

"Even him, Juan. As you said on the phone when we were discussing all this, he's probably nearing the end of his career in the rutting sheds, but there's a few hundred more slave pups probably left to be extracted from those big balls of his, and even if he dries up before that, he's still sellable as a decent bed buck. My wife's been asking for a new boy - this one should do just fine - lots of experience, excellent equipment, and still a handsome boy to look at. She'll be happy with him - I'll give the slave to her as an anniversary gift. That's the sort of present she likes - something she can actually use. And she'll like a boy that's spent years down in the rutting sheds - that will add a lot of excitement to him as far as she's concerned. Women! Who knows what goes through their minds? The stud she's got now is a black brute that's ugly as sin if you ask me - oh, he's hung like a horse - but he's just downright ugly. I never knew what she saw in him, but that's what she wanted at the time. Now she's grown tired of the black ape. I'm not surprised. This blond is as least clean looking and decent to look at, although he too is hung like a horse."

I looked at Thor as his future was being discussed. As usual, his face revealed little, but he didn't look displeased. I supposed, like most stud slaves put into retirement, he expected as much. Most former studs were sold off as bed bucks to mistresses and masters who valued experience and rigid training.

"I promised my friend he could fuck the blond stud before I sold him off," Juan said. "He last fucked him when he was visiting me in Brazil and took a fancy to the boy's talents. He asked me yesterday if he could fuck him again and I promised him he could."

"That's exactly why I am buying him - well, that and for my wife's use as I mentioned. Something about fucking a stud slave that's sort of exciting. But we can work this out, Juan. I'll fuck him just as soon as we get the paperwork done if your friend doesn't mind loaning me a place to do it and then your host can fuck him all he wants overnight. My steward can't pick the new purchases up until tomorrow afternoon anyway."

With that, the six slaves changed hands and Rico returned all but Thor back to their cages in the basement. Thor was then taken to the spare bedroom to await usage by Juan's client. Juan signed all the sales papers which he had already prepared on his laptop back in Brazil, notified the customs office of the sales price and gave them permission to charge the import fee to his account, and logged in the slaves' GPS codes to the national slave registry along with their new owner's name and address. His client, meanwhile, arranged transfer of the necessary funds to cover the purchase to Juan's account. Within 15 minutes, the paperwork was completed and Juan could see the proper amount had been transferred. Almost three-quarters of a million dollars had changed hands with that one transaction, but, after all, the goods were certainly premium. Juan told Rico to take his client to where Thor was waiting and within 45 minutes the client was back, fastening his belt.

"That was fast," Juan chuckled. "The slave was satisfactory, I assume?"

"No problem fucking the slave, Juan. It's just that I have another business appointment within the hour. As much as I wanted to, I just didn't have the time right now to fuck the slave thoroughly as I would have preferred. But I've got plenty of time when he's stabled in my own house and he was more than satisfactory for an afternoon quickie. But, Juan, you'll need to have him flushed out completely before your host beds him down."

"Stuffed him full of cum, my friend?" Juan chuckled.

"Afraid so, Juan."

With that, the client left and I never saw him again. As he said, his agent picked up the six new purchases the next afternoon rather late and that was the last I ever saw of any of them. By then, though, I had had a chance to sample all of them, starting with Thor an hour after the client had left and as soon as he had been flushed out, given a shower, and relubed.

When Thor was delivered to my room, I saved my questions until after I had pumped a full load into him, noting his resentment at being fucked by another male was as evident as ever. It seemed to me that after all this time, he would have gotten over it, although the quality of the fuck he offered up was right up there with the best.

He was flat on his back with his legs over my shoulders and I was still well inside him when I started my questioning as I stared into his eyes.

"What do you think of your new owner?" I asked.

"O.K. Master," was the non-committal answer.

"No, Thor, I what to know what you think of being sold off. You won't be making slave babies anymore it seems and you'll get to fuck for a mistress' enjoyment, it seems. Well, that, and taking your new master up your butt too, apparently."

Thor grunted as I drove my prick deeper into him and began slowly pumping him once again.

"A slave doesn't decide what's going to happen in his life, master," Thor said. "But, since you asked me, master, I'll tell you. Sounds like my new life will be a lot better than I hoped. I won't be under the whips in an emerald mine yet; I won't be humping worn-out old breeding wenches four or five times a day down in a stinking rutting shed, and, if the master's wife is about his same age, I won't have to fuck an ancient dried up mistress yet. Sounds like all I'll be doing is fucking the mistress whenever she wants anyway she wants it; taking a fucking whenever the master wants it; and, of course, probably entertaining both my new master's and mistress' friends when they want. But Master Juan told me I'll still be studding now and then for slave production. He said the new master bought me to lease out when he finds an opportunity, but they would be short-term leases like renting me out to small slaveholders to impregnate all their women slaves on one short visit and then rent me out to another for a week or two - that sort of thing. He told me the new master planned to keep my balls drained - just not as much as I was used to and sort of off and on."

"You're still going to be taking it up the ass, like now, Thor," I pointed out as I thrust into him even deeper.

"Yes, master, but it still sounds better than before," Thor insisted, the resentment at being fucked clearly evident in his eyes even as he pronounced he was going to a better life. "For a slave, I'm pretty lucky compared to what we heard from others in that DPL delivery trunk yesterday. All we slaves sold by Master Juan yesterday are, compared to those others," Thor added. "Of course, we'll all real good looking and hung heavy - that sure helps if you're a slave."

"I thought there were just some brothel and draft slaves in that truck, Thor?" I asked.

"Yes, master, that's right. Those brothel slaves were good looking like us, master, but whereas we get fucked now and then by a master, they get fucked around the clock year after year and, they said, by those so down and out they can't even afford a slave for themselves. So they have to service the old, the sick, the disabled, the smelly poor people, - people no one else who has a choice will fuck. That male whore among them could barely get it up anymore, he told me, and his ass was so stretched he couldn't get it closed anymore, no matter how hard he tried. And, master, those draft slaves were from somewhere in Africa I've never heard of and had only been rounded up by slave catchers a week or so ago. They'd been stripped of whatever clothes they had, branded, collared, and shackled; whipped good, and put on a plane for America. That's all they knew apparently, although I couldn't understand much of the strange language they spoke. But I could tell they didn't know shit about what was going to happen to them although they did seem to know about slaves - I did get out of them they had plenty of them back wherever they came from and they knew they were slaves now. The collars on their necks and the brands on their butts had told them that. Master, at least I always understand what's going on, even if I don't have any control over it."

It was easy to understand Thor's optimism about his new life and I had always appreciated his ability to put things in perspective. With that, both of us shut up and I concentrated on achieving the best orgasm I'd ever had with Thor - sort of a finale to my great experiences fucking him.

By the time the agent arrived to pick the six slaves up, I had fucked every single one of them. After Thor, I then had the two slaves who had been owned by others before Juan bought them: the Chinese and the Polynesian boys. They were obviously very experienced in pleasuring a master. The handsome Chinese boy had exceptional sucking skills, while the Polynesian demonstrated complete mastery of his ass muscles after you were well up into him that sent you over the edge coupled with big juicy tits that were remarkably sensuous to suck. The black boy from Nigeria was the opposite of Thor. He delighted in being used by a male and there wasn't an ounce of resentment in him, no matter how much you rammed down his throat or up his butt. Either his training was remarkable or he was naturally gay - I suspected both - but it didn't matter. His new owner couldn't help but be pleased if providing sexual pleasure was any criteria! I wondered, however, how he would do with a mistress - but good slave training usually eliminates any potential problems like that.

Juan, of course, had already used all six of them heavily, both back in Brazil and, most recently, on the plane from Brazil, and, at least with two-thirds of them, here in my house. He told me he was certain their new owner would be pleased with them and was getting a good buy, even at the prices he got for them.

"What did he buy them for, Juan, other than Thor for his wife and himself?" I asked.

"Business gifts, Christian. He's into oil heavily, and deals a lot with most of the large oil companies owned by governments in the Middle East. It won't be long until those new purchases of his will find themselves in palaces in Dharan, Kuwait City, Abu Dhabi, Aden, and Tripoli among others. I've sold hundreds just like them for the same purpose. My client will give them at some point to a good customer as a guarantee the next big contract comes his way. After that, they'll be watering the lawns, driving the cars, cleaning the palaces, serving the meals, and all the other things slaves do these days for the super wealthy. But, in view of their looks, these boys will also spend a good deal of their time in their new owner's bedrooms. Those oil potentates are accustomed to such courtesies and, after all, their families have generally had slaves around for just that purpose for centuries now. It's just that now they can enjoy slaves from all over the world in all different colors with no difficulty at all. And, for the most part, those slaves never cost them a penny!"

"It's sort of weird to think of being given to someone as a 'gift,' don't you think, Juan?"

"No, it's just property like anything else - a bottle of booze, a new car, a nice new outfit to wear - what's the difference?"

"Well, if I were a slave, it would be the final degradation - just being given away as a gift to someone."

"Christian, you're so sentimental sometimes I wonder how you survive in this world," Juan said rather disgusted. "But," he brightened, "maybe that's the charm in you I find so attractive. An incredible naivete about slaves. That, and," he reached over and squeezed my ass, "the fact you're still one of the best fucks I've ever had out of a free boy."

With that, Juan and I renewed our acquaintance with each other's bodies and I discovered I found Juan just as interesting as I ever had. Rico and Beauty would be put on hold until Juan left and, of course, Juan now had nobody but me to relieve him.

[Please send your comments to author Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com). Much appreciated.