WILD PUPS SALE 1. WALLY: HOW FREE BOYS GET INDENTURED
By Master Redbeard for comments or compliments r -- e -- d -- b -- e -- a -- r -- d -- e -- d -- s -- f at y a h o o dot com
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This is an adult erotic gay slave fiction story. If such stories offend you, or if it is illegal to read such stories where you're located or because of your age, please go away now. If you can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality, go away quickly and get help. The story is set in a society where good looking young men can be bought, sold or leased as slaves -- generally used for sex by powerful men.
It's been a while since I wrote a story set in an auction house, and I wanted to explore the eroticism of straight free boys being stripped, prepped and publicly displayed for sale. In this story, three graduating high school seniors, all 18, are enslaved for playing a stupid (and destructive) prank. Their indenture is perfectly timed so they can be sold as part of Gaytown Slave Hall's WILD PUPS SALE, where newly-indentured, untrained free teens are displayed for sale in their free-boy underpants.
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WALLY:
I caught site of myself in one of the many mirrors that surrounded our display. Twenty-four hours earlier I had taken this pair of white briefs from a drawer and pulled them up my legs, dressing to go to school. Now I was stripped to these same tighty whities, with the addition of a platinum slave collar that glinted in the light, cuffs that held my hands securely behind my back and attached to my collar with a thin chain, and a short chain that held my right ankle to the display platform.
Of course the three of us were displayed right in the front window of the Gaytown Slave Hall -- myself and the two other high school jocks that were arrested the day before for our stupid prank. I could read the sign painted backwards on the window: "WILD PUPS SALE: Straight Teens in Their Free Boy Underpants."
Everyone knew that slogan -- I'd seen it in online ads and heard it on audio ads all my life. Even people who had never been to Gaytown knew about Wild Pup Days, when they specialize in properties that are recently indentured, untrained, and oftentimes not even shaved or prepped -- what some called "buying the boy raw," and others considered the closest a master could get to legally humiliating and sodomizing a straight teenage boy. And everyone knew these sales took place on the last Saturday of the month. There were true stories of parents who surprised their sons with indentures the last week of the month, so the boys would qualify as Wild Pups.
But in our business class we heard that attendance at Wild Pup Sales had dropped off. The merchandise was often poor quality, and either came from families that needed money so bad they were willing to sell their 18-year-old sons, or teen boys who'd gotten in trouble with the law. Either way, many of the lads had bad teeth, splotchy skin, lousy diets, and weren't very bright. These boys would be sold to industrial farms or factories as part of work gangs.
This guy from school that we all called Lumpy has a dad who works as a slave trader. Lumpy is an overweight clown, but he was the school authority on slaves. He said that his dad rarely bothered going to Wild Pup Sales anymore. Out of 60 or 80 boys on display, there might be just a handful that had potential -- or as Lumpy's dad put it, "boys who could clean up nice." We all knew that Lumpy's dad was the local scout for a chain of boy brothels, but while the chubby boy bragged about it, the subject embarrassed me. I turned down Lumpy's offers to visit the Wild Pup sale with him and his father.
The image I saw of myself in the mirror the morning of the sale looked like a high-end slaveboy: firm, hairless body, collared and helpless, and stripped down to an embarrassingly tight pair of white briefs (dammit, all my boxers had been in the laundry the day before). My dick was sticking up fully stiff, peeking out over the waistband of my underpants, because of the prostate stimulator that had been placed up my butt a little earlier. But in my head I still thought of myself as the free boy I had been on Friday.
Russell, the big beefy football player, was collared and chained to my right, wearing just a tight pair of plaid boxer shorts, his fat cock sticking up out of one of the legs. Cody, to my left, was dressed in a pair of Spiderman briefs, which was a scam on the part of the auction house. When the three of us had been stripped the day before, Cody was wearing a pair of red boxerbriefs. I suppose someone in the auction house decided that the 5'4" gymnast would appeal to a select audience dressed in cartoon undies. His boner showed as a tent in the tight briefs, not nearly as big as mine.
It was Russell who came up with the idea for the prank. I never would've been involved, except Coach Bob had asked me to "keep an eye on Russell and keep him out of trouble." Everyone agreed that the impressively-built blond youth could have a great athletic career ahead of him, except he had no common sense. Coach once commented, "that boy played too much football without a helmet."
Russell and I hung out with the jocks at school. Although Cody was a top gymnast who'd won competitions, the petite boy was rarely included with our crowd. When he overheard Russell's idea, he jumped in to help. It turned out that Cody had access to as many firecrackers as we could want. As soon as the short boy made that offer, I saw the football player's eyes light up. I cautioned, "Well, we don't need that many firecrackers." But Russell out-shouted me with, "The more the merrier."
The lockers were metal. We didn't realize how quickly the fire would spread along the dry wood that framed the lockers. And we never imagined the fire would spread so quickly to the back-up box of fireworks we had placed right outside Coach Bob's door. When we were called into the principal's office and confessed our stupid prank, none of us knew that Coach Bob had lost a hand in one of the explosions. We didn't know how serious matters were until the principal walked the three of us into the gymnasium where the slave police were waiting.
All of the boys in the school had been gathered onto the bleachers. As I took in the scene, one of the burly slave cops grabbed my hands behind my back. He whispered in my ear, "Easy boy. Don't give me a reason to use the slave prod you." The two other school jocks were each being held by their own slave cop, and I'm guessing each of the black-uniformed officers had whispered the same thing. Russell tried to pull away and jab his slave cop with an elbow. An instant later the big football player was twitching on the ground from the electrified slave prod. He was pulled back up roughly as the large roomful of high school boys muttered and clapped appreciatively. Teenage boys always enjoy seeing slaves abused, maybe more so when the slaves are former classmates.
The principal stepped forward and spoke in his blunt style, "We didn't arrange this for your entertainment, boys. This is a lesson to you. I see before me three young men who had bright futures, great athletes all heading to college. But in the next hour or so they will be in slave court. I know enough about civics to know that when they leave that court they will no longer be young men with bright futures. They will be slaveboys."
He paused and looked us over. "These boys will be presented in court fully clothed and then stripped by the court. But most of you know it's traditional for the slave police to strip the newly indentured boy and take him out to their truck naked." He nodded his head to the black-uniformed thugs who pulled our clothes off, careful not to rip any. Ritual would require us to re-dress in order to be stripped again in court.
We were each fitted with a temporary slave collar, big and heavy, our hands pulled up and cuffed to the D-rings on the sides of these collars. The three of us were paraded around the large gymnasium on leashes, each followed by another slave cop who slapped our butts with a short tawse. I saw my very fat English teacher staring at me and licking his lips. I noticed his hand in his pocket fondling his erection. He was standing beside a group of boys who were openly gay -- I remembered teasing and bullying some of them. I heard a screeching voice loudly exclaim, "Wally's ass is even cuter naked," followed by raucous giggling.
Cody was marched behind me and I heard some of the 9th grade boys laughing, "Even my pecker is bigger than his. Plus I got lots more hair. When they shave his bush, he'll look like he belongs back in 7th grade." I heard Cody sniffle. Dammit, that boy would have to toughen up if he was gonna be a slaveboy. We would all have to toughen up.
The three of us were fitted with blinders so we couldn't see to either side, and we were marched naked and shackled out to the black Slave Police truck. There were people lining the walkway, but I couldn't turn my head left or right. Then I heard my father's distinctive voice shout, "Oh my god! Wally!" I just wanted to disappear into the sidewalk.
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- WALLY: STRIPPED IN SLAVE COURT
The three of us were taken to a small cell in the sub-basement of the courthouse. Our clothes were returned to us, though there was barely enough room for us to dress in the tiny space. Once we were fully dressed, we were marched out of the cell and our hands were, once again, cuffed to the D-rings on our temporary slave collars.
After being marched up flights of stone steps, we were brought into a mahogany-lined courtroom and stood facing the judge's bench. I had only been in slave court once before, and that was on a field trip with my Understanding Modern Indenture class. Although the rules said you were supposed to be 18 to observe slave court proceedings, they allowed younger boys in if they were accompanied by their fathers, or for an educational field trip like I had taken. Like a typical teenage boy I had delighted in the sight of boys just a few years older than myself being stripped and humiliated. But now I was one of the boys standing in the dock.
I was immediately aware of how crowded the courtroom was. Clearly, the news of the three high school jocks being sent to slave court had gotten around town quickly. I wore faded blue jeans and a button-down striped shirt. Russell wore a tanktop and baggy black basketball shorts that came down to his knees. And Cody was in chinos with a black t-shirt. We all kept our heads down as the judge read off charges and looked over testimony.
The judge raised his gavel and looked at us as he said, "Before I pass sentence, do you three boys have anything to say on your behalf?"
Before I had a chance to speak, Russell loudly proclaimed, "Look, I'm no good at science. Wally is the one who told us how much fireworks to use. Also, Cody is the one who got us all those fireworks. But because I didn't know...."
The judge banged his gavel and said, "That will be enough of that. I'm sure that being tall and good looking and a great athlete meant you could get away with all sorts of bullshit as a free boy. For the sake of the skin on your back, I hope you get a master who can teach you quickly and firmly."
I glared at Russell. I was the one who tried to get him to use fewer fireworks. The big football playing brute was being a weasel. But I just took a deep breath and said, "Your honor, what we did was a stupid prank. We were full of ourselves being high school seniors. None of us wanted real harm to anyone or anything. We sincerely apologize and ask that you not let this one dumb teenage action ruin our entire lives."
I turned to Cody, but he was crying too hard to speak. The judge hit his gavel again and said, "The middle one has a good mouth on him. I'm sure it will be put to a lot of use soon enough." There was laughter from the crowd. They all understood the sexual undertones. "And I agree there's no benefit to society of having all three of these young lives ruined forever. Therefore, I sentence each of these boys to a term of five years' indenture."
This time when he banged his gavel, the three of us were turned to face the crowd. As bad as it had been getting stripped in front of all our classmates, this was much more menacing. I recognized some boys from school in the large room, the younger ones accompanied by their fathers. But there were other older men there as well, men who looked rough and nasty -- the kinds of looks you associate with slave traders and brothel keepers.
Our hands were uncuffed from our collars, but we were each flanked by two big burly slave cops. The one to my left held an electrified slave prod, while the other one held a short tawse. Behind us the judge intoned, "This is your first order as slaves. I am ordering you to strip down naked and display yourself to this court. As new slaves, I advise you to cooperate and make this process easier. If you do not cooperate and if you do anything to make this process more difficult, you will get your first lessons in obedience."
I began unbuttoning my shirt and I could see beside me each of my classmates stripping to the waist. I noticed the gallery of men sitting nearby to our left. When our Understanding Modern Indenture class had visited the courthouse, we were told that the Gaytown Civic Association permanently reserved this gallery. Dropping my shirt, I quickly glanced in that direction and saw some of their arms moving up and down. Homosexuals older than my own father were masturbating as they watched me unzip my jeans. The guard with the tawse slapped it once over my shoulders and snapped, "Eyes forward." I felt the sting.
I bent down to peel off my white briefs. When I stood back up again, knowing my exposed penis was fully displayed for everyone in the big mahogany-lined room, I must have blushed all over. I tried to cover myself, but my hands were quickly cuffed to the D-rings on the thick temporary slave collar.
The judge announced that the court would now collect sperm samples from each of the new slaveboys. These would be analyzed to determine our breeding potential, and would be stored for the future, "In case any of these boys is gelded by his owner." Someone whispered something to the judge who quickly added, "Oh, yes, of course there's no gelding or disfiguring of five year indentures. But you know how frequently these indenture contracts get extended."
As soon as he said that, I couldn't breathe. But he continued, "The courts have determined that public milking is part of the humiliation process so necessary to helping new slaveboys adapt. We have some good citizen volunteers who have dutifully offered to help milk these boys in open court." Three men stood up from the gallery on the left, the one filled with older homosexuals. I had once enjoyed the spectacle of watching pervs masturbate older teens, but today it would be my boner on display for the homos.
I didn't realize until he was standing next to me that the volunteer milker who would be working on my penis was my fat English teacher, Mr. Tucci. His pudgy fingers were immediately all over my body. He brushed my nipples and squeezed my arm muscles. Then his big hand was caressing each of my butt cheeks. He whispered to me, "You ever get felt up by a man before, Wally?"
I swallowed hard. "Sir, no sir."
"I know I'm just the first of many, but it's fun to be the first." There was something cold and slippery on his fingers when he wrapped them around my cock. As he spread the cream on my dick, I felt myself immediately get stiff. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the scene. There was nothing erotic to me about this obese man who was breathing hard and stroking my erection. And the notion of all these people in the audience watching me helplessly get masturbated, was even worse. Maybe I could close my eyes and pretend it was some beautiful woman jerking me off.
But there were rude comments being called out from the crowd. A deep baritone voice yelled, "Nobody cares about their dicks. Show us their butts." Teenage voices were cruder. "I always said Wally had cocksucker lips." "Whaddaya bet Russell ends up as a pony slave." "Look how young Cody looks! He's gonna end up as a puppy for some perv."
Mr. Tucci kept on jerking me off, his hand changing speed and pressure. His other hand was touching me everywhere. He tugged on my balls, tickled behind my balls, pinched and massaged my nipples, and smacked my bare ass. Tears were streaming down from my closed eyes as I felt my cock explode.
When I opened my eyes I realized there was another man kneeling in front of me, holding a small bowl under my cock head. He was collecting my jizz. There were cheers when I shot my load, and Mr. Tucci stood tall with his hands over his head like a champion. Then he brought his cum-soaked fingers to his lips and licked them clean.
When the other two boys were finished cumming, our temporary collars were removed and replaced with sleek platinum collars. These were soldered in place and could only be removed with special instruments. We were warned that these collars also doubled as electric shock devices for disobedient slaves. Since these collars did not have D-rings, our hands were cuffed high on our backs and kept in place by a thin chain attaching the cuffs to our collars.
Slaves are never told where they are going or what's happening. A slave only needs to follow orders. But as we were marched back down the stone steps toward the sub-basement, I overheard the judge's voice say, "Yes, of course, tomorrow is the Wild Pups Sale in Gaytown. These boys will bring in a good price there."
We were placed in cages where we had to crouch down with our knees up to our chins. The cages were placed on an open-sided truck so we could see the streets of the town and the people on the streets could see us. There was pointing and laughing, and some old ladies shook their heads with sadness at the site of us.
Soon enough we crossed into Gaytown. Here the truck slowed down at each crowded intersection as groups of gays gathered round and talked excitedly about the next day's Wild Pups Sale. Some men openly rubbed their boners as they looked us over. Some reached between the bars of our cages and prodded our bodies wherever they could grab.
This was my first trip to Gaytown, my first visit to the Gaytown Slave Hall and their infamous Wild Pups Sale. My classmate, Lumpy, had tried to talk me into visiting this place just for a lark, but I felt too nervous about being in such a fully-gay environment. That seems so silly now. I was scared about being in this gay environment where I would be fully dressed and free. But here I was stripped to white briefs and chained to a platform, prepared to spend the next day getting felt up by horny old homosexuals.
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(to be continued)
for comments or compliments r -- e -- d -- b -- e -- a -- r -- d -- e -- d -- s -- f at y a h o o dot com