THE STABLES
by
Bill Smith
I took tremendous pride in my 'Stables,' carefully acquired over the years. It reflected all of the effort I had put into personally searching the world's best slave markets, hiring trusted agents to be on a constant lookout at markets more obscure, and even having a few of them bred to my personal specifications.
The world today was a far different place than when I was born 30 years ago into a family of great wealth even back then. When I was only two, slavery became legal once again and my father was one of the first to take advantage of it, having the capital to do so. By the time I was 10, our estate already had hundreds of slaves on hand, most of them in training and preparation for their pending sale in markets throughout the world. By the time I was 12, my father had abandoned most of his other business interests in that the slave business was so profitable it seemed foolish to waste time and money on other ventures.
Unfortunately, both of my parents were killed in a tragic airplane accident coming back from yet another slave buying trip that both of them enjoyed so much. You see, they really worked as a team: Dad did most of the financial arrangements; Mum did the actual evaluation of the properties under consideration. In other words, Dad liked money and Mother liked beautiful bodies she could run her hands over.
I was only 19 when I was left orphaned but worth hundreds of millions. The other legacy left to me was their vast knowledge in the buying and selling of male slaves best suited for the pleasure market, their speciality. Most of those slaves would be bought by males for their own beds, but there was also a most active market of women buyers who had discovered it was a lot easier to buy your pleasure if you could afford it than play all the social games necessary to find sexual satisfaction otherwise. Dad had always said that the market for the most attractive male slaves would grow and grow once what they could do, properly trained, was "discovered." He was certainly right about that. The first year after my parents were killed, I watched as the inventory I had inherited increased in value 250% as the market simply exploded.
By the time I reached my present age, 30, I had gained the reputation of being one of the best connoisseurs of male flesh in the business, my business boomed as I provided male and female millionaires throughout the world whatever their hearts desired (or their fertile minds had ever imagined), and, perhaps most importantly, I had established my own personal stable of human properties that was the stuff of legends. As one acquaintance put it: "An invitation to the Stables is like previewing my version of heaven." A little flowery, but I would be disappointed in any afterlife that didn't include my Stables properties awaiting my use. The Stables was renown for the best the slave markets had to offer from all over the world and included properties from every nationality, ethnic group and color worth looking at. But that alone wasn't enough. Those properties were now perfectly trained to fulfill every human desire with their bodies and so complete was their training they were happy to do it in the process.
I loved watching the reactions of those receiving their first invitation to view the Stables. Of course, most had heard of it long before they got an invitation, so anticipation alone meant they had a hard-on before they even got through the front gate and long before they saw any of the actual flesh they would be shown.
But once they laid eyes on the very first slave I had there, they couldn't hid their excitement and most of the men were showing damp spots on their trousers after seeing just one slave in the collection. Generally, by the time they saw the second one and I suggested they feel the slave for themselves, it was too much for them and you could see them close their eyes and get rigid briefly as they spewed a full load into their underwear. Messy, but always fun to watch. Even the Stables slaves who had been around a while got into the game and vied with themselves to see who could be the first to get the visitors to mess their pants with a huge load of fresh cum.
The women visitors weren't much different. They got so wet and even dripping in excitement just by looking you could smell their sex juices long before you noticed their flushed faces.
My Stables slaves knew that's what I expected out of them and anything less would be a disappointment on my part which might lead to some serious retraining - a procedure my slaves would do most anything to avoid. They also knew that exciting a guest by displaying their body was only a warm-up to what was coming before the visit was over. Each and every slave understood exactly his purpose was to provide pleasure whether that be displaying so well he could bring a guest off with just the sight of his body; offering any and all parts of his body to bring pleasure to the guests by their definition of pleasure, not the slaves; and always giving the guests the impression that bringing them pleasure was that slave's greatest goal in life, whether he really enjoyed what they were doing to his body or not. They were there to be used and what they, as an owned property, thought about it one way or the other, was irrelevant and they knew it by this time. That included, of course, whether it was men or women guests they were entertaining - their own personal preferences, if they had any left by this time in their training or not, was not pertinent in their status as a mere slave.
I enjoyed showing my guests around the Stables. It gave me a chance to discuss the backgrounds of some of the slaves, how I had run across them, and any problems the slave had to overcome in his training. It also gave them a chance to ask the many questions most of them had when viewing such magnificent specimens - questions that usually had been asked by previous guests as well but which I never tired of answering. Long ago, I had come to the conclusion that slaves were the most fascinating thing in the world to me, dealing in them was not work but enjoyment as far as I was concerned, and that I really couldn't imagine doing anything else than buying and selling human flesh. But when it came to my slaves in the Staples, I was happily obsessed. I enjoyed nothing better than displaying them, talking about them to my guests, and was flattered when the questions about the properties never seemed to cease. That was the major reason I invited wave after wave of guests I suppose. It wasn't just to enhance my reputation in the business of slaves; it wasn't just to expand my social horizons with the rich and powerful; it wasn't just to offer them a great experience (especially when they got to use the slaves any way they wanted); it wasn't even just the obvious ego aspects of it in that I owned the very best the world had to offer. No, it was, quite simply, I was obsessed with the whole idea of actually owning an entire stable of human beauties there simply because I had the money to do so and willed it to be.
The first questions were usually about the huge old black slave stationed at the very entry to the Stables themselves. He was huge, super muscular, and, unusual in rich estates like mine, old for a display slave, probably near 40 now but no one was sure including the slave himself. His physique was still impressive, but what made him really stand out were the huge heavy iron tit rings connected by a chain which, over the years had enlarged his tits to the size of a woman's and had stretched them by their weight until they were a good one inch long now. A simple tug on the heavy chain connecting the rings had served for years as a most effective control device for this slave. To show off his body even better, especially his well developed pecs and upper arms, his wrists were fastened behind his head by a iron bar about three feet long which forced him into a constant display position that presented his nude body beautifully, including all aspects of the ample manhood displayed between his wide-spread legs. Most of my guests had never seen a slave tit-ringed so heavily and none had seen the results of such a ringing years and years after their installation.
"Greg, do you ever take off that bar connecting his wrists?" was usually the first question since it looked so uncomfortable and obviously would cause the upper parts of his body to go to sleep after only a short time.
"No," I answered, "The blood flows back in when he reclines to sleep so there's no permanent damage. Besides, he's got the heart of a bull," I explained.
"I've never seen tit-rings that big and heavy installed on a slave, Greg," another commented. "It sure makes a tit big and chewy. Is that due to the tit ring itself pulling on them with their weight or is it that heavy chain attached going from one tit to another?"
"Takes both to get tits that big on a buck," I answered. "The heavy rings worked well enough - enlarged them a good threefold, I'd say, but after we hooked them together with that heavy chain, they really took off and produced what you see on the slave now. The handlers like the chain - they say that slave is one boy mighty easy to control. One tug and he does any damn thing you have in mind, no matter what," I laughed.
"Where did you find him, Greg?" another guest asked excitedly, a young black friend of mine in his early twenties who didn't try to hide his kinky side when it came to slaves.
"You'll never believe it, Alonzo, but he was way back in the most remote holding pens in the London exchange - where they put all the old worn old slaves that won't bring much at market. He had God knows how many masters by then and had those huge rings and chain installed a good 20 years before I ever laid eyes on him. He was originally trained as a sex slave but was so worn out when I spotted him he couldn't even get it fully erect anymore no matter how much we stroked and fondled that huge thing between his legs. Guess what I paid for him, Alonzo, just as you see him here, minus the restraining bar connected to his wrists?"
Alonzo hefted the slave's huge balls as if to weigh them, stroked the slave's semi-erect shaft to see if he could get it harder, and then kneaded the gigantic tits speculatively.
"Well, I'd offer you $110,000 as is, old as he is... or should I say, overly-mature, Greg?" Alonzo laughed as he took his hands off the slave.
"$45,000," I responded. "That's all I paid and they were happy to get that for him at that. I thought for no more than that, I could always use him as a lawn ornament. But I think he looks best here as sort of a living statue right at the front entrance to the Stables."
"When you get bored with that, you can always sell him off as a draft slave - there's a good 15 to 20 years of hard labor left in that body from the looks of it," Alonzo said. "But before you do that, give me a call, Greg. I'll stick by my $110,000 offer. You'll never get that for him selling him off as a draft slave."
I knew an opportunity when I saw one. Alonzo's firm was the leader in slave transit and my contract with him was coming up for renewal in a few months time. A little sweetener now would pay off at contract time and it was obvious Alonzo was really turned on by the old black's huge chained tits and the display position he was forced into by his restraints. Giving away $45,000 now would yield a good concession on the contract that would be worth, over time, ten times that.
"You like this old hunk that much, I'll just give him to you. I'm getting tired of him anyway. I think he almost detracts from all the beauty that's just beyond the door. The only reason I bought him to start with, I was fascinated with that tit treatment. But, I admit, he does suck extremely well and isn't too bad taking a good fucking either. I guess practice makes perfect and this piece of black meat has certainly had the practice part of it," I laughed.
"That's generous of you. I'll take him," Alonzo said quickly. "When I get him home, we'll see just how much experience this boy has."
I shuttered myself at that comment, but the black slave took the news in stride. I suppose not much new could happen with yet another master in his long life. But I wondered if he'd ever had a master as kinky as Alonzo was rumored to be.
"Where's the slave from originally, Greg?" Alonzo asked me, never deigning to ask the slave himself.
"The papers on him claim he's Nigerian, but was trained originally in Egypt. The rings were installed by his fourth owner, an Australian from Sydney. After that, all the papers really tell you is who owned him and that he was always sold as a "sex slave." The dealer I bought him from had obtained him from an owner right there in London who was in the process of restocking his brothel. That's all I can tell you, I'm afraid."
"Born into slavery?" Alonzo asked the slave directly.
"No master. Some slavers captured me when I was 15," was the brief answer which seemed to satisfy his new owner.
"I'll have him put into the trunk of your car right before you leave. Do you want that bar connecting his wrists left on him?"
"Yes," was the quick reply. "And thanks again."
With that out of the way, I noticed my other guests were anxious to enter the Stables themselves, although they were fascinated with the idea I simply gave away slaves as the mood suited me.
Upon entering, we were greeted with an interesting display. Two young and very attrractive white American slaves were engaged in a frolic where a handsome black haired stud was fucking a stunning blond boy who was obviously enjoying being fucked as much as his companion was enjoying fucking him. It was staged for our benefit in that both slaves were positioned so all aspects of the slaves' bodies could be seen at all times. In fact, the blond slave's ass was elevated by a pillow under him so he could be easily shafted and his face was turned so we could study his every reaction to the huge organ being slammed over and over up his butt. It was obvious the stud had been told not to ejaculate until ordered to do so to insure the performance would go on as long as there were observers to watch the two in action. It wasn't often you saw two such handsome specimens in heavy action, especially two this fresh and young, obviously still in their teens.
"How charming," Louise, the CEO of one of the England's most profitable banks commented. "Where are earth did you get them?"
"An agent spotted them at a Las Vegas sherif's sale - they were selling off some boys taking up jail space who were dabbling around with some amateurish drug dealing. I bought them on the agent's advice over the phone and he had them sent to the facility in New York that does such a good job in training unbroken stock. Six months later, they had a new home right here. Louise, they work great together as a team. Would you like to have me send them to your room tonight for a little trial run?"
"You're on, Greg," Louise answered as she studied the slaves still in heavy action more carefully. "Do they have names?"
"Call them what you want, Louise," I chuckled. "I can't remember off hand what we call them around here. Just 'slave,' I think, or maybe 'Las Vegas 1' and 'Las Vegas 2,' but I really can't remember. The handler would know and can tell you when he delivers them if it's important to you."
I told the slaves' handler, nearby, to not allow either of the performing boys to unload. I wanted them at full capacity when they would be delivered to Louise for her use that night.
"I got you, boss," the slave handler said as he tapped his whip against his thigh in acknowledgment of my request. "I'll have them all cleaned up, inside and out, freshly body shaved, and oiled before taking them up to your guest. And with their balls full and ready for action," he chuckled. "It's been a while since a mistress has requested them - it'll be a real treat for them."
"Well, maybe," Louise laughed at the handler's jocular remark.
The two slave boys under discussion continued with their exhibit despite all of the sweat flying off their bodies well aware their swollen balls would get no relief until possibly the mistress they had been promised to allowed them to shoot at some point or another during another long and busy night. The very guest they had been promised to had been their before on a previous visit and the slave assigned to her room then, a very experienced white boy, was still talking about the huge dildo that had been used by the mistress on him at that time. It had taken him a week before his ass felt normal after a night of that they remembered him telling. This pair had learned in their sex training that mistresses often placed their slave boys in a submissive role and strap-on dildos were a hot selling item at most any ladies shop nowadays.
Once Louise had claimed the pair for her own use that night, the rest in the group moved on to the stall in the Stables where another pair of young boys were showing off. One had been trained to such a degree of limberness that he could easily suck himself off. But the real novelty was he could do this while being fucked up his ass by another slave's erect prick. Thus both his holes were being stuffed simultaneously. The final touch was the look of absolute delight on the boy's face as his holes were filled.
"My God," George exclaimed. "Now that's something." George, a long time friend of mine kept a small collection of well selected slaves at his own estate, but his taste were pretty 'vanilla' - every slave he owned had features similar to his whether they be male or female, but he seemed to prefer female slaves judging by the number on hand at any given time. It wasn't that he couldn't afford better - his family controlled most of the importation of oil coming into Australia. He just lacked imagination and was very conservative, rarely risking anything new or different. "Did you train the slave to do that or did you buy him somewhere already trained?"
"Well, it's easy enough to train, George," I said. "But this one I bought already trained - and right in your own country. He's a Sydney boy as you can tell by his signature genital band, enslaved around 17 by the courts for petty theft but trained by those specialists Sydney is so famous for. But, George," I winked, "with your conservative streak, I doubt if you even know Sydney is world-renown for its specialists in slave training."
"Well, actually, I..." George stammered.
"In other words, you have no idea," I interjected. "If you're nice to me today, I'll give you the name and phone numbers of some guys that could do wonders with that staid little collection you keep. Within a month, they have those slaves jumping through hoops you couldn't even imagine," I laughed.
"Well, Gregory (he always called me by my full name), I just don't know if I'd want my slaves jumping through all those hoops, as you put it. I like them pretty well just like they are."
"You mean lying in a missionary position being fucked or, on a really wild night, having them on their knees sucking you off," I joked.
"Well, that's what I like out of a slave," George defended himself. "After all, they're my property to do with as I want. If I wanted a circus, I could of bought that too I suppose."
"I'm just kidding, George," I smiled. "Of course, all of us do with our slaves what we want - after all, it's our money."
"Precisely," George responded, happy that I agreed with him.
Nevertheless, he studied intensely the slave sucking himself off while being fucked and I was reasonably certain he was at least going to experiment with some of his male slaves when he got back to Australia.
Next we passed by a section featuring a floor-to-ceiling glass wall which allowed all of my guests to witness some training sessions in process dealing with brand new acquisitions who, although already trained fairly well before I bought them, still needed some additional training to make them more versatile in meeting both my own as well as my guests demands. First we passed some slaves being taught some additional skills in both taking a good fucking or delivering a good fuck themselves. A black trainer, electric prod in hand, was right there overseeing them practice on each other. As a 'warm up' exercise, the trainer had first fucked both of the new trainees himself. Before the session was over, he would do so again four more times so they got used to taking a big one up their holes with less fuss and a big "Thank you, Master" ready on their lips. The trainer, well equipped for his job with a fine physique and a huge prick, was a brothel slave for 15 years before I had bought him so he had a lot of expertise to offer the new trainees. That was all to the good because, most likely, the trainees would eventually end up in a brothel or a master's harem like my own once I tire of them - that is, if they're lucky.
Not too far away, another black haired slave was learning to perfect his sucking skill using a well hung practice slave. It was obvious from the trainer's instruction that his goal was to swallow the entire organ clear down his throat and then to use his throat muscles to 'milk' the organ inserted. So far, the novice slave only had about two-thirds of the prick down his throat, but a quick whip across his butt got that final third down his throat fairly fast despite some obvious gagging and choking. But another sharp whip across his butt stopped that and within minutes the trainee had learned how to breathe and suck at the same time, no matter how much was stretching his throat muscles. As the guests stood in fascination, they watched as the trainee slowly relaxed with the huge organ all the way down his throat and could tell from his throat muscles he was already learning to 'milk' the organ as requested. Two minutes later, we all watched the practice slave heave and buck as he shot a big load all the way down into the trainee's stomach. The trainee, always cognizant of the ready whip of the trainer, swallowed every drop of the practice slave's output without spilling a drop.
"Nothing like a little snack now and then," Joanne commented. Joanne was a new visitor to the Stables and was obviously enjoying every minute of it. She had never worked herself, but was an heiress to a large beer manufacturer in France and had been a close friend of mine for years.
"I bought two boys about five years ago as 'milk studs.' I've found that there is absolutely nothing better as a general health tonic than fresh man cream. I take it directly from the source four times a day now - morning, noon, dinner time, and before going to bed - and have never been sick a day since I started the practice. Two young studs can deliver a full load easily twice a day seven days a week with no problem at all and do all the house and yard work in between. I alternate them for the milkings, so their balls have plenty of time to fill up to overflowing."
"You suck a slave off directly?" a man standing next to her asked, obviously shocked. "Slaves are the ones who are trained to suck, not their masters," he added.
"Oh, don't be so provincial, Clyde," Joanne shot back. "If you want to get it fresh and hot, you take it directly from the source. It's old fashioned to have them milk themselves into a cup and then drink from that. By that time, it's already a little stale. Besides, I have them scrub thoroughly before mouth- milking them."
"Mouth-milking indeed! You can call it what you want, Joanne, but it's still sucking off a slave, and it's beneath the dignity of most masters to do that. Slaves can suck you, slaves can milk themselves, but owners should never be subservient to a slave," Clyde retorted haughtily.
"Well, according to that logic, a mistress could never even have a slave fuck her under her instruction," Joanne said. "Why in the hell, Clyde, do you think most women buy a male slave if it's not to bring them their pleasure by fucking them under their mistress' commands?"
"Point well taken, Joanne," Clyde admitted. "Perhaps I haven't thought this through yet."
"It's O.K., Clyde. But after you thought it all out, I bet you're going to start having some little health tonics directly yourself, you old goat. Believe me, Clyde, you'll feel like a whole new person after a few weeks of taking in four loads a day. That's all it takes and it will make a new man out of you."
Further down the hall looking into the training room, a recent purchase was learning to increase his anal capacity. The trainer, extremely well equipped, was opening up a new white slave for the demands a really big guest might place on him in his future life. The trainer was at least 12" long and a good 4" to 5" in girth and was slowly screwing the monster into the white slave's modest sized hole. Even through the glass we could hear his groans as he learned to accept the probable new demands expected of him. The trainer wisely had him stroking himself as he was being fucked so he associated being fucked with sexual excitement. As we watched the fucking continue, the trainer timed the procedure exactly right: as he shot his load into the trainee's ass, the trainee himself exploded with a huge ejaculation of his own. It wouldn't be long until he associated sexual arousal and relief with getting fucked. Owners nowadays all liked their slaves to not just accept being fucked by their masters, but to actually look forward to it. It was training like this that guaranteed that end result.
Next, we came upon a black slave just sitting there resting with his huge prick in full arousal - an astonishing 12" x 6" and balls to match.
"Clyde," my friend Reo said, "if you want to start with the tonic treatments, that boy there is just the ticket. Jesus, he's already dripping just thinking about you wrapping your mouth around that humongous dick he's sporting. Where'd you find him, Greg? He's black as coal."
"The boy is from Namibia where it's no secret some of the best slaves in the world are to be found. He was captured by some slave hunters when he was 16 and after some basic slave training right there in Namibia was shipped over to the market in Johannesburg, South Africa, for auction. One of my agents knew I was looking for a well hung black and bought him on consignment for me. He was expensive, but, as you can see for yourself, is well worth whatever he cost me. The best thing about him is that big smile on his face. Its genuine and it's there all the time. The slave claims this is the best life he's ever had and that he didn't know anyone, slave or not, could live this well. He's what I call a natural slave - he's loved having a totally structured life from day one following his capture and thinks it's an act of God that others now take responsibility for feeding and taking care of him. The fact he's someone's property now and has to do whatever he's told doesn't bother him one twit. He claims he was always property of his father anyway in his tribal structure and he's freer now than he was back home in Namibia with all the tribal taboos and ritualistic requirements. And he loves being used for sex - that's the best part of being a slave, he claims. Reo's right, Clyde. This boy would love delivering you a tonic four times a day and wouldn't need a partner to give you all you need like Joanne's pair."
"You seem to like him, Greg? Use him much?" Reo asked.
"Every chance I get," I laughed. "Believe me, he's one of the best fucks in the whole stable, Reo."
"How about determining that myself, Greg?" Reo boldly asked.
"He's yours, Reo," Greg laughed, "just as soon as the tour is over. You can have him until you leave for all I care, but, after that, I want him back in my bed."
"Fair enough," Reo laughed, making sure the slave handler was attuned to this transaction.
"I'll deliver him to your room completely prepared for your full use within 15 minutes after we're finished with the tour, sir," the handler said to Reo in validating he was on top of things. "He'll be washed inside and out, oiled and with his hole well greased."
"Don't let him unload before he's delivered," Reo instructed the handler.
"Slaves in the Stable never unload until commanded to do so specifically," the handler said in assurance. "He's be as aroused as you see him right now, if not more so."
Reo's erection was evident to all in the tight pants he was wearing.
"I can see the slave isn't the only one who will be ready for some action," I teased Reo pointing to the swelling so evident in his crotch. "Never mind, I always want my guests to fully enjoy all we have to offer here in the Stables. If a person, male or female, gets through the tour without feeling aroused, they're probably dead," I laughed. "After all, that's what the Stables is all about."
As we passed out of the training observation area, we got into the best part of the Stables, the stalls where the stock was held in readiness for whoever choose to use them.
First were the areas where I kept my twins. Currently, I had two sets of them on hand: one Latino and one mulatto. Identical twins were always hard to locate in the markets and good looking sexually appealing ones even harder. Fortunately, over the past few years, I had located these two sets that were sensational. The Latino twins were farm slaves until a visiting dealer specializing in 'pleasure slaves' happened to notice them one day out in the fields. After three months of specialized intense training in pleasing a new owner, the pair sold for 1.5 million to a middle-aged heiress looking for some new amusement. They were so well trained, their mistress wouldn't part with them even when she was offered 2. million for the pair - "not bad for a couple of half breeds with mighty short dicks to be called pleasure slaves" she joked as the naked slaves being described shifted uncomfortably at her implied criticism. But I was able to persuade her to sell them to me when I offered her an even higher price for the pair.
The mulatto pair were extremely muscular, strikingly good looking, and hung like horses. They cost me 2 million for the pair but I found them to be worth every penny they cost, especially when you got both of them in your bed to do your bidding. I often dressed them for outings and presentation in that most of my guests thought they looked sexier dressed in their tight dark blue muscle shirts and super-tight clinging athletic shorts than butt naked in that the clothing accentuated, even exaggerated their raw masculinity and huge sexual attributes. I tended to agree with them, but then, of course, I could take in their full nakedness every time they were ordered to my room.
The Latinos had originally been sold in Mexico city from a dealer noted for his exotic stock and that's where, a year later, I found the mulatto pair. Both were fully trained by the time I laid hands on them and I haven't had a bit of trouble with either pair from the first day I owned them. Eventually, I know I'll tire of them, but there's a waiting list of buyers - all of them invited visitors to the Stables. Friends should come first, I've always thought, and my friends invariably had the money to indulge their fantasies, even if the twins, by then, would be well used properties.
As if was, another female friend of mine, Deloris, asked if she could have the Latino pair when the tour was over. Deloris was a recent widow - her husband had headed one of the largest privately owned corporations in Argentina before his untimely death. Now it was all hers.
"Deloris, look again. That pair isn't hung too well. We have plenty on hand that are twice that big," I warned, "and you're welcome to those as well."
"You men," she chuckled. "Always judging a boy by the size of his prick. There's a lot more to good sex than a big dick let me tell you. It's those twins that turn me on."
"They're yours, Deloris," I nodded to the slave handler nearby. "But we'll make sure they're primed as much as possible - at least you can get every last inch out of them that way."
The Latino pair blushed in embarrassment at their shortcoming, but smiled at Deloris for her understanding.
"You've made them your friends for life," I noted, pointing at their welcoming smiles. "Not too many men have much interest in them so they're really happy they're found a user for the night."
It was the men among my guests who all wanted the mulatto pair. I hated to split them up - it spoiled the full effect, I thought - so I let them draw straws with the short straw winning. It was my good friend Mel from Hollywood, California who won to the congratulations of those he was competing with. Mel was one of Hollywood's biggest box office attractions now and could have about any woman in the world he wanted, slave or not. But Mel, like myself, was into males and even then was only attracted to male slaves who he could totally dominate and consequently would be totally non-threatening. I knew he liked big muscular slaves with a little color to them so the mulatto pair would be perfect, especially since their training would allow him to enact any fantasy a Hollywood type could come up with.
"We'll have the pair in your room ready to go just as soon as our little tour is over. We'll leave their clothes on - that way you can strip them yourselves," I nodded to the handler.
"Greg, you've got a real memory. I'm amazed you still remember I like nothing better than stripping down a strapping hunk of male flesh. And this time, I've got two of them, exactly alike as far as I can tell."
"Mel, they are identical twins. What do you expect?" I laughed.
"Greg, don't they mind being used... you know... being used in front of each other? After all, they're even more than brothers," he inquired.
"On the contrary, Mel. Identical twins get a thrill out of seeing their clone being fucked or down on his knees sucking. It's a special thrill only an identical twin can enjoy, they tell me."
"Good," Mel said. "I was going to send one to the bathroom while I fucked the other, but I guess that won't be necessary," he replied.
"Hardly, Mel," I replied. "Get both of them in bed and keep them there. I'll share a little secret with you - their favorite thing is to fuck each other and their second favorite thing is to suck each other off."
"This is just getting better and better," Mel exclaimed. "It sounds like I should invest in a pair for myself."
"After tonight, it's a given I'm sure," I laughed. "And I can recommend a dealer down in Mexico City that can fix you up in no time at all - it's his speciality."
By this time, we were into the pride of the Stables. Individual slaves selected for their appeal and superb training.
"First, we'll look at some of the bred slaves and then look over those enslaved later in life. Doesn't make any difference in their performance now which is which, but, as you know, slaves are being selectively bred these days and the results are becoming evident.
With that, we went from stall to stall featuring the bred slaves I had acquired for the Stables over the past few years.
"This first stall features a so-called Aryan slave off of a German breeding operation. As you would expect, he features all the mythical Aryan traits like blond hair, blue eyes, the smooth skin, and well defined muscular structure along with the nicely proportional sexual equipment such slaves possess. Being bred slaves, their training started at birth and they have no concept of freedom, property, or even ownership of their own bodies. They bring well above average prices at local auctions and, so far, their resale value has held up very well. Some of you may want to look into these bred Aryan slaves as a good investment if nothing else. I've found they seem to enjoy being used sexually, no matter what you want them to do, and practically no additional training seems to be necessary once you buy one. Apparently, the breeding farms are doing a great job of maintaining real quality both in bodies being offered and the training instilled in them. This one you're looking at is typical of what you'll see for sale if you can locate one of these first models - they're still relatively scarce but the farms are upping production now that they know what the end result is and the price they are commanding. The public is taking to them quite well and my bet is that will continue. Think about buying at least one of these initial models while prices are still relatively low. While you're waiting for your investment to appreciate in value, you can sure enjoy him in your bed."
"Where did you find this one?" one of my friends from the Middle East asked, an oil man.
"In the Berlin slave market where the first of this model were offered at auction, Mohammed. His production serial number is A00005 so you can see this is one of the first off the line and they plan a run of at least 100,000 before they close out this model. The serial number is tattooed on the side of his left ankle for permanency. You know the Germans. They like everything numbered and orderly."
My last remark brought forth some appreciative chuckles.
"Are you saying all those of this model are just like this boy?" Mohammed asked. "Have they learned how to clone?"
"No yet, Mohammed," I laughed. But it's getting there. All the slaves marketed as an "A" model will be very similar to this boy and all will have blond hair, blue eyes, hairless hides, and taut muscular bodies. But there will be differences beyond that, like variations in height and weight, prick size, things like that. But it's amazing so far how close they do look alike. More like cousins than brothers at this point."
This next stall shows you model "B" from that same breeding farm in Germany. Model "B's" are considerably lighter colored, somewhat less muscular, but still feature blue eyes and blond hair. They have attempted to give this batch of slaves that innocent 'boy next door' look and, as you can see, have pretty well achieved that goal. The only problem is prick size - they're not as well hung as the Model 'A's'."
"They'll sell better in the Middle East despite that problem," Mohammed said authoritatively. "The dealers in my country are eager to obtain these really light skinned boys who are trained to total compliance regardless of the size of their organ. They're rarely bought to fuck anyway - quite the opposite," he chuckled. "Those Germans know exactly what they are doing. My country along could absorb their total production I can assure you."
"Well, the Germans aren't the only ones heavy into breeding slaves," I lectured. "Here in the Stables I can show you examples of many of the other offerings in today's markets."
"For instance, Saudi Arabia is breeding slaves designed for the rough work of the oil fields. This one here," I pointed to the next stall where a hugely muscular black slave, with his balls banded by a tight silver ring that matched the large silver rings through each of his tits and a thick silver collar around his neck, was shown on his back with his legs drawn up to his shoulders to best expose his open hole and the muscles of his thighs, butt and forearms, "is being shown ready to be fucked. The tit rings, the genital band, and the collar are part and parcel of this strain of work slave in that it enhances their appearance and reminds the slaves continually of their status as owned properties. But a lot of visitors here at the Stables like to fuck the better looking of these huge rugged work slaves, turned on by their generally muscle bound physiques and their whip- trained instant compliance to any demands made upon them. Visitors from the Middle East, jaded with the beautiful light-haired boys with blue eyes that make up most of their own harems, are especially turned on by these slaves, never thinking of them as sources of sexual pleasure until presented in this fashion. Mohammed, my friend, would you like a go at this one?"
"Like you said, Greg, it's a novelty and the breeding shows, that's for sure. But since I'm only staying the night, I'll take the light haired bred German slave if you don't mind - the 'B' model I think you called it. My next trip, I'll tackle this huge black if it's alright with you - just to see what it's like."
"Always the sport, Mohammed," I replied. "He's yours the next time you get here to the Stables. In the interim, anyone else interested. He's a fuck you won't forget I can assure you."
Three friends instantly volunteered and I said all three of them could have him. I knew from personal experience he could outlast all three of them and still have juice left over. The last time I had him in my bed I was exhausted by the next morning and it took a day's rest before I was back to normal whereas he was out in the fields in hard labor with his colleagues at daybreak. I thought the Saudis were on to something with this breed of slave.
Next, we were into the slave acquisitions who had been enslaved long after their birth for a variety of reasons, everything from sale by their impoverished parents to sale by their jailers to disposal of war surplus to simple kidnaping by slavers. At this point in time, this type was the typical slave although it was obvious bred slaves would outnumber them in the near future the way the breeding farms were cranking up.
"In this next stall, you see a Polish slave I found in the Grand Slave Market in Warsaw. This boy was sold into slavery around the age of 17 by a corrupt judge and, after rigorous training as a sex slave, actually looked forward to his new life in that his life up to that point had been nothing but misery. Slaves like this make wonderful investments if you sell them off before they age significantly. And don't worry about that six inch prick you're looking at. A few strokes with your fingers and it magically doubles in size. A lot of Polish slaves have that trait. Don't ask me why! He's beautifully trained and great in bed. Any one want him?"
My Bolivian friend, Juaz, son of the newly elected president there, said he liked the slave's attractive pectorals and his fine almost white hair. "He looks like a Nordic god of some type," he said.
"Well, he Slav, not Nordic, but if he turns you on, he's yours for the night, Juaz. I'll warn you though, Juaz, he howls when he shoots. Just thought I'd warn you before you thought you had done something wrong when you fucked him."
"Fucking him makes him shoot?" Juaz asked.
"Every time, Juaz. There's some prostate gland on that boy, let me tell you," I laughed.
In the next stall, you can see what I consider the best looking slave currently in the Stable, but that, of course, is just my opinion. I've got him in a jock-strap so you don't just look at his magnificent equipment but study the whole body which many people think is about as good looking as a human male gets these days. His hairless body is natural which keeps maintenance at a minimum. It's not often you see this perfect a body up for sale. Originally this slave, kidnaped from somewhere in North Africa was sold in the Great Bazaar at Tangiers, Morocco as a 'display slave' for obvious reasons. From that first sale, he was then quickly resold to a Singapore businessman as an always available bed buck as well as a statutory display in his gardens. But that owner died rather quickly and my agent in Singapore got him at the estate sale, although we had to pay a huge price for him. But well worth it in my opinion."
"Who's the lucky one with this slave," Mohammed asked.
"Sorry, he's taken, Mohammed. I just can't get enough of him so he's gracing my bed once again tonight."
The slave under discussion broke into a big smile.
"Master's bed tonight?" the slave asked delightedly.
"Yes, boy. You're going to earn your selling price tonight if I have anything to do with it."
"Yes, master," the magnificent slave giggled. "I'll make you happy you paid all that money for me."
Turning to my guests, I announced, "It's attitude that more important in a good slave than anything, don't you think?"
"Step out here, slave. The least we can do is let them get a good feel of that body of yours. Just don't unload. What's in your balls is for me tonight, understand?"
"Yes, master," the slave replied as he quickly stepped out in front of his master's guests, discarded the tiny little jock strap without being told, and struck a full display position with his hands in back of his head, his pelvis thrust out to make it easy for the guests to handle his newly revealed sex organs and his feet wide apart.
Everyone took advantage of feeling every aspect of the displayed slave's body and although he quickly responded with a huge erection to the fondling, he never actually shot off despite a lot of dripping of pre-cum and breaking out in a sex-sweat more than once. When everyone had gotten a chance to handle him, I led the group onto the next stall and the slave first sold in Morocco grabbed a towel and began wiping the sweat off his body before returning to his stall.
"In the next stall, is an Italian slave that has been trained primarily as a milk stud. That's what we use him for too, although his duties have expanded considerably since being purchased for the Stable."
"The Italian slave is kept body shaved at all times and is, as we speak, preparing himself for the milking that is commanded four times each and every day. I, along with most masters these days, enjoy a good swig of stud cream every now and then and we always keep a ready supply on hand for afternoon snacks, breakfast treats, condiments at supper, and so forth. Tonight, for example, those of you who want to can have an ice cream sundae topped with fresh cum just gathered today. It's quite a popular treat here at the Stables and most of the guests, once they've tried it, are hooked. We bought this slave in Milan off of his previous owner who loved fresh cum as a breakfast drink, as a sauce for his meat and fish dishes, and as a refreshing tonic in the afternoon. As you probably have heard, many people believe that ingesting large amounts of fresh cum from virile young slave boys is most useful in preventing the effects of aging, although that has yet to be scientifically studied. This boy's previous owner had scores of slaves just like him being milked regularly with the product of those milking being bottled, frozen and sold fresh on the open market throughout northern Italy. Therefore, what his master didn't use himself was sold locally at tremendous profit to the slaves' owner. It's not surprising that wealthy investors now own whole stables of milk studs who, over the years, produce hundreds of gallons of the stuff for a slave dairy's huge profits."
"Where did this milk stud come from originally?" Juaz asked.
"From a prison far north of Milan is my understanding, Juaz. All the warden has to do to effect a prisoner's sale into slavery is make out a death certificate, claiming the slave was killed in an inmate fight or sickness or in an accident, and then sell him at some slave market as a whole new person. The slave here claims he was imprisoned when he was 19, then sold in the market at Milan before he was 20. He's 25 now and producing more than ever, but that happens with milk studs - the more you milk them, the more they produce if you don't kill the golden goose and over milk them. About four times a day seven days a week is what we've found to be best for maximum production of voluminous loads of good thick cream each and every time."
"He's totally body shaved? Any special reason?" Juaz continued.
"Do you want pubic hair in your cream?" I retorted.
"You made your point," Juaz laughed and pretended he was picking a hair out from between his teeth to the laughter of everyone in the group.
We then passed by stall after stall of other stallions in our stable, each one offering some new and different but all with the highest standards of bodily perfection and all exhibiting superb training in both demeanor and attitude.
One South African slave, originally owned by a Los Angeles brothel, was displayed with his genitals fully banded and in a position flat on his back with his legs thrust wide apart that kept his hole constantly exposed to you could see the lubrication dripping out of the hole itself. After years in a brothel, he was so stretched he could handle even the biggest pricks with no difficulty and rarely suffers any pain from being fucked. But I pointed out (as his slick hole literally winked at us with his muscular contractions) the slave had learned to enjoy the prostate stimulation heavy fucking usually involves, so overall, the slave quite liked his life as a slave and enjoyed meeting all the interesting people he serviced , especially in the Stables.
Before we had finished with our tour of that section, each and every guests had been assigned at least one slave for their post-tour enjoyment.
"Here in the back of the stables we keep some really unusual slaves I've found in my journeys. They're not to everyone's taste, perhaps, but they're certainly interesting if nothing else.
Everyone gasped in disbelief as the next section of the Stables was entered. The first stall here was occupied by a handsome brown slave with an excellent muscular physique. He was about 6'4" tall, had a beautiful face, piercing eyes, a magnificent chest development highlighted by a tiny rippled well muscled waist and long muscular legs topped by a true muscular bubble butt that was unusual in and of itself. But between his legs was the longest, thickest organ any in the group, sophisticated as they were about slave offerings, had ever seen. The hugely thick shaft, at least six inches in circumference, reached down to the slave's knees, a good 15 inches from its roots above the slave's regular sized balls.
"Occasionally, a real freak hits the market and creates a sensation as bidders want to have the biggest and best among their collection of slaves. This boy, from Senegal, has a great body, as you can see, a pleasant face, a most accepting attitude toward ownership of his body, and about the biggest prick imaginable. Although he can't maintain an erection due to its huge size, he nevertheless cost me over 1.5 million at auction. At prices like that, this slave boy is practically guaranteed a future life as a status symbol and display slave for his new owner. I was bidding against a Japanese business executive who wanted him just for that purpose, although he told me later he also wanted the slave to suck him off frequently as well as fuck him at least daily. He added that he was aware the slave couldn't maintain an erection, but neither sucking a master off or taking a good fuck required a stiff dick on the slave's part! I had to agree with him on that and, so that there would be no hard feelings that I had bested him in the bidding, I let him fuck the slave to his heart's content that night before he headed back to Japan."
"Why did you buy him?" George asked in all sincerity.
"I just told you, George. I wanted the boy as a pure status symbol and as a display slave for the Stables. I can now claim the Stables probably has the biggest dicked slave in the world and all my visitors seem to enjoy feeling his body to see for themselves. And he's a handsome critter disregarding his prick. He's a great display slave - I frequently use him as a center decoration at dinners - and he's a great fuck and a good sucker despite the fact he can't hold an erection himself. But he's worth what he cost just for the conversation value."
"Can't argue with you there, Greg," George responded eagerly joining the others in fondling the slave all over, including the legendary organ that made him so unique (and costly).
"Before you think he's totally unique, this next stall has another slave who is almost as big but this one can get a good erection and hold it while you enjoy him. I've got the handler in his stall now so he can demonstrate how this slave can be fun to suck and play with although he's not of much practical use for breeding. As you can see from the handler's demonstration, the slave just lays on his back and lets his user enjoy his body - he's used to it by now."
As I spoke , the handler quickly stoked the slave to erection, then proceeded to play with and suck the end of the slave's 16" prick with his tongue, all the time never having the need to bend over the slave's crotch or even bend down much.
The slave just stoically lay there as the handler stoked the monster prick, nibbled at the head of it, and played with the slave's tits as he was doing all this. When the guests expressed amazement the slave accepted all of this without any protest, I reminded them any other action on his part would lead to a good beating, not getting fed, or some memorable electric shocks. Once reminded of that, they all nodded in understanding.
Again, we gave everyone a chance to play with the slave being displayed and feel the long prick with their own hands.
Many also took the chance to admire the beautiful body on the slave handler but, since he wasn't a slave but simply an employee, he was shown due respect and no one actually touched him, although I'm sure he wouldn't have objected if they had. As a slave handler, he had long ago lost any sense of false modesty or puritanical propriety. But he was clothed in the standard uniform of a slave handler, a skin tight speedo-type brief topped by a belt which held his whip and electric prod, but it was obvious he was flaunting the muscular development of all the rest of his body that was fully exposed.
Handlers weren't paid much, but the perks of the job were terrific. They got free use of any of the most beautiful bodies in the world who had to do anything they commanded, they got most of their meals free in that they ate in a special mess hall attached to the holding pens, and the clothing, such as it was, was provided free of charge. With practically no living expenses if you slept next to the slave pens as most employers wanted, you could easily bank whatever you were paid. Some slave handlers "retired" in their mid-thirties with enough money in the bank to actually avoid working for the rest of their lives if they lived frugally. But every retired handler I ever knew spent some of his money to have a slave of his own, usually an older slave past his prime that sold cheap - it was just too hard to live alone after having slaves available to you a good part of your life..
My guests, on the other hand, were at the extreme other end of the fiscal pendulum. They all had positions of great power as well as controlled huge fortunes for the main part. That evening, as usual, I treated them to a memorable dinner with my tit-chained slave on full display in one corner, my freakish long dicked slave as the centerpiece, and a menu topped by the dessert - ice cream sundae topped with fresh cum sauce. Each guest had their assigned slave waiting on them personally assisted by other slaves who could offer variety if desired by any of my guests.
After dinner, a heavy silence broke over the Stables except for the low moans, gasps, and sighs emanating from the guests' luxurious rooms as the slaves performed their duties hour after hour after hour. This was exactly what they had been trained for and each performed flawlessly in meeting the demands of my guests to the standards for which the Stables had earned its enviable reputation of unparalleled quality.
The next morning started late - the slaves returning to their stalls after a thorough washing inside and out and a fresh body shave; the guests to the main dining room for a breakfast buffet. Most had to hurry to meet their transportation back to their home territory, but all made a point of thanking me profusely for a memorable visit and one of the best nights of their life.
I knew I had made many friends that night and it would pay off in my future business dealings. That's one reason I entertained night after night after night. Business obligations.
But, I smirked to myself, it was also to show off. Everyone agree the Stables had the best stock in the world and I took a lot of pride in that.
Besides, business and pure ego aside, I had my pick of the best slavery had to offer - each and every night and I didn't need to finagle some stupid invitation to have the best sex available anywhere. It was right there in my own back yard!