The Making Of A Ponyslave (2)

THE AUCTION

Soon I blinked awake as the lights came on in the cage. As yesterday, most of the guys were sporting their morning hard-ons, and some of them started to jerk off. Once again I thought how my life had changed – here I was in a cage, totally naked with 20 or so other naked guys, without even the smallest element of privacy so that if we wanted to jerk off, there was no choice but to do it in front of the others.

My cock ached, and I decided to put aside my inhibitions and started to stroke my erection. But guards then came in and surrounded the cage, and shouted at us all to stop! This was a change from yesterday, when our breakfast had been brought in, and I was hungry – we had only had that meal the day before, and fruit and water that night, before the lights had gone out.

The trap door in the middle of the cage opened and we a guard came up, into the cage, and started to herd us down the stairs, threatening us with his stun-gun. I managed to stay with Hans and Mike as we went down the stairs, and along the corridors of the building that I now knew to be the state slave centre. Mike was in front of me, and at some point we came to a cross-corridor and the guards shouted at us to halt, as there was another party of slaves making their way along it. The guards came along the line of us and told us to stand close to the wall, and shuffle up close together, so as not to block the corridor.

The guy behind me in the line pushed into me, and this pushed me into Mike. My semi-rigid cock was forced against his muscular ass, and I could feel the sweaty body of the guy behind me pressing along the length of my back and ass. Although I had been close to guys in the showers before, never as close as this: I had never felt the heat of two naked bodies on either side of me, being pressed close by the need to get into a short line. My cock seemed to have a life of its own, and I felt it jutting at Mike’s clenched ass cheeks.

“Hey, Steve”, he said, “Don’t fuck me here. If you want to play, you should have said earlier!”.

I felt myself flushing crimson, because I knew that he knew that it was my cock pushing at him, and I couldn’t help myself. I’m not gay, and I have never wanted to go up another guy’s ass. But somehow being in this corridor in an otherwise normal office building, naked between two guys, being herded along to I knew not where, was overwhelmingly erotic and my cock was responding in the only way it knew how.

However before things got any worse, we started off again down the corridor, and eventually turned in through a set of swing doors marked “Auction Ring 1 Preparation Suite”. The room was tiled on all the walls and floor, and there were a set of five shower heads along the far wall. The guards told us to hurry up and shower, and I assumed we would do it five at a time. But it was soon clear, as they forced us forward, that all 20 of us were to use the same five shower heads at the same time.

We stood huddled together under the gushing water which, it turned out, was soapy. We were ordered to wash each other, and soon there was a mass of soap-covered guys with their hands sliding over each others bodies as we complied – by now, we all knew that the slightest hesitation or sign of disobeying an order and the stun guns would be used on us. I hated to think of the effect of one of those electrical discharges into the mass of nude, wet guys, in intimate contact with each other, and I was glad that everyone, even Hans, was following orders.

The water turned clear, and we washed the soap off each other, but

then it went from being just warm, to freezing cold. The guys at

the edge tried to get out of the icy spray, but the guards drove them

back, threatening them with the stun guns. We all clung together,

trying to get some comfort from the warmth of each others bodies, as

the icy water continued to deluge down on us for about five minutes.

The guards were all laughing, and I heard one of them say that this

was the simplest way that they had found to get rid of our erections

without allowing us to jerk off – and we weren’t allowed to do that

this morning as we needed to be in peak condition for the sale.

When the water finally did stop, the shivering mass of us were allowed out into the room, and we stood there with the water dripping off us and all our cocks shrivelled and our balls all retracted – we looked a miserable sight.

The guards then picked one guy, and forced him through a door into the next room. A few minutes later, the next one was hustled through, and it became clear that we were all being taken, one by one, through into what was, presumably, the next stage of our preparation.

My turn came, and I went through the door. On the other side there were a two guards with the obligatory stun guns, one guy in a short white coat and trousers who was holding a clipboard, and two tall muscular black guys, who were totally naked and who had absolutely no body hair. The guy in the coat looked at me and said “377 “, and made a tick on his clipboard. He nodded at the two blacks, and one of them came up behind me and slipped his arms under mine and then back behind my neck so I was in a classic neck lock. I could feel his naked muscular body pressing all down my back, and then he leaned backwards, and my feet left the ground. I was in effect semi-recumbent, with my legs hanging down on either side of his massive thighs.

His partner then came over with a shaving brush, and unceremoniously soaped my balls and proceeded to shave them again. He also shaved the two days growth of beard from my face, and fondled my balls and chin to make sure he had done a good job. He was obviously satisfied with his work, and he grunted, at which the guy was holding me let me go.

The black who had been doing the shaving then bent over from the waist, clutching his knees with his hands. I was told by the man in the white coat to bend over, and when I started to copy the black guy, I was pushed towards his bending body – it was made clear to me that I should mount him, so that my feet were again off the floor, my chest was pressed into his muscular back, and my cock was nestling in the crack at the top of his rounded muscular buttocks. I was told to clasp my hands around his chest, and to hold on tight.

The second black, then proceeded to shave the crack between my ass cheeks, so it too was devoid of any possible re-growth from the shaving I had had two days before. When this was finished, he too grunted (it was only later that I would find out why neither of them said a word), and I was released.

The white-coated guy gave one of the two blacks a magic marker, and he touched up the 377 that had been written on my left ass and right pec when I had first arrived at the slave centre.

Next one of the blacks knelt down and shacked my ankles to each end of stainless steel bar about 0.75 metres long – the shackles were quite loose, so I could walk in a kind of shuffle, but I could not of course close my legs together. His companion then grunted at me to hold my hands out in front of me, and my wrists were manacled to each end of a similar bar. Finally, a ball gag was pushed into my mouth and its elastic strap slipped over my head so that I was unable to speak.

Whilst this was going on the white-coated man was speaking to the guards, and was telling them how efficient this new set-up was. “When we used to have a shaving chair and a shaving table in here, it took much longer “, he said, “as there was always some reluctance on the part of the new slaves to be tied down, and quite a lot of time was lost whilst we encouraged them with the stun guns. But with these two black giants, they don’t realise what’s going on until it’s too late and they’re being held for shaving. I don’t know why they don’t use the same system during initial processing. It would have the added advantage of getting the new slaves used to bodily contact – most of the Europeans have never been in intimate contact with another man’s body, let alone a big, muscular black, and it would let them know from the start what they should expect”.

The guard started to reply, but I never got to hear what he said because they motioned for me to shuffle out of a door across the room, whilst another of my group of 20 was entering from the door I had previously come through. It was obviously a production line process, with our bodies being the goods they were processing!

We waited in the next room until all 20 of us had come through, and then a clanking noise started. A row of hooks came across the ceiling out of a slot, and the guy in the white coat came in with the two blacks and proceeded to give them instructions to hang us from the hooks by the bars between our wrists. He took care to hang us up in numeric order, so I found myself between Hans and Mike again.

So there we were, 20 naked guys standing with their hands above their heads hooked onto some kind of conveyor belt running across the ceiling. The guy in the white coat said “And now I am leaving you, as you are ready for sale. This will be the last chance for the buyers to look you over at close quarters, before this afternoon’s auction”.

He pressed a button on the wall, and the hooks started to move. We went out through a slot in the wall into a luxurious reception room, shuffling along because of the restraints between our ankles. It was strange to come into this room, because it was carpeted – I felt the luxurious pile between my toes, and I realised that it was the first time for days that I had been on anything other than raw concrete or tiles. It was furnished with sofas and low tables, and there were luxurious drapes handing at the windows. The conveyor continued to run, until we were all in the room and all spaced out around it because the conveyor belt with its hooks from which we were hung snaked in a serpentine way around the ceiling.

When we had all been standing here for about five minutes, large double doors opened and a crowd flowed in. They were mostly men, and about half of them were in traditional Arab dress, and half in western suits. They were all expensively dressed, and you could see the discrete glint of very expensive watches on their wrists. There was clearly a lot of “money” in the room.

Mixed in with them were four of the 16 year old slaves we had seen before, still naked, but now carrying trays with glasses of champagne, orange juice, and canapés, which they offered to the guests.

Whilst I had been getting used to being naked after my days in captivity, I now felt something different – whereas before I had been naked, now I was “nude”. Somehow, with other guys in a prison-like environment, being naked had become the norm. But in this very western setting, with the soft carpets, furniture and drapes, and with all these people coming in so expensively dressed, I felt different. It was like a nightmare, where you wake up sweating because you have been the only one naked at a cocktail party – but this was not a nightmare, it was real life. I was clearly on display, and I was just an object hung up for the pleasure of these people.

I recognised several of the groups of people who had walked around our circular cage during the past days, and they were talking to each other as they sipped their drinks. Some of them were comparing notes from the notebooks they had been carrying on their initial inspection trips, and they clearly wanted to check up specific things about some of the slaves hanging there.

One group came over and started to look at Hans – he was about four feet away from me, so I could hear what they were saying. “Ah yes”, said the leader, “this is the one who would not turn around and show us his cock. I don’t know why, as he has nothing to be ashamed of – it’s the usual size for this build of slave. Perhaps there’s something wrong with it”. He turned to one of the serving slaves and barked something in Arabic. The boy put his tray down on a nearby table, came over and knelt in front of Hans, and proceeded to suck at his limp cock until Hans was massively erect. “Don’t bring him to climax “, said the Arab, “we don’t want to get his semen on these fine carpets. And we don’t want to spoil the fun for others later.

I can see from the pre-cum starting to drip out that he’s normal”.

And, turning to his companions, they walked off.

Three men came over and looked closely at me next. They ran their hands over my arms, pinching my biceps to feel the muscle development. One of them knelt down behind me and I winced as one of the massive rings he was wearing caught the flesh of the back of my thighs as he kneaded them to test the musculature there. They also tweaked at my nipples, and were obviously pleased when they went hard under their fingers – I had never had anyone touch me here before in this way, and it was a stomach-churning new sensation for me. One of them knelt down in front, and closely examined my cock and balls. Then he hefted my balls in his hand, and squeezed lightly until I started to twist and writhe with the mild pain he was causing. He didn’t call a slave over, but stroked my cock himself until I was achingly erect, and he pinched my cock head between the nails of his fingers when it emerged from its protective foreskin sheath, just to see how I reacted I think – he was amused when I tried to jerk backwards from his grip.

Tears were running down my cheeks from the shame, humiliation and rage I was feeling, but the inspection still was not over. One of them unstrapped and took out the ballgag, and I was told to open my mouth. I decided not to, and he simple smiled at me as he reached down and squeezed my balls – hard this time, not gently like before. I gasped in pain, and he kept up the pressure until I did finally open my mouth. Keeping tight hold of my balls, he ran a finger of the other hand round inside my lips and cheeks, prodding at my jaw so that he could make a quick visual inspection of my teeth. They were obviously satisfied then, because they replaced the ballgag in my mouth, and went away.

The two Arabs who had had the five of us on the inspection tables the previous day then approached, and one said “Yes, 377. He’s still looking good. I don’t think we need to look at him again, and we’ll still bid up to the price we agreed yesterday to get him”.

After we had hung there for about two hours, the crowds of elegantly dressed men and women gradually left until only the 20 of us suspended from the conveyor were left, and the four young serving slaves. They came around to each of us in turn, took out our ballgags, and pushed a straw into out mouths so we could take a long, refreshing drink – it had been quite hot in the room in spite of the air conditioning, and of course the tension of the occasion, especially when the examinations had been going on, had caused most of us to sweat a lot. Next they came around with buckets, and we were all required to piss into them.

After about 20 minutes, the conveyor jerked into life, and we started to shuffle along. It stopped after only a short time, just long enough for a couple of the suspended slaves to go through a slit in the wall. After a few minutes, it started up again, and one slave passed through the wall before it stopped, and this process continued.

I gradually progressed around the room, as required by the pattern of the track in the ceiling, and soon it was my turn to go through the next chamber. The two naked blacks were there again, and they were glistening curiously – I soon realised why this was, as they both quickly rubbed my body all over with a fine oil. The oil was dripping from their hands onto their own muscular bodies, and making their already enormous bunched muscles look even more pronounced under the lights. They covered me completely in a coating of the oil, paying particular attention to putting a layer between my ass cheeks, and peeling back my foreskin so that the whole of my cock was covered. They said nothing as they did this, and there was nothing sexual about it as far as they were concerned – clearly they were just doing a job, preparing a piece of man-meat so that it shone in an agreeable way prior to sale. Finally, they undid the shackles holding my ankles apart.

The conveyor jerked into life again, and I went out from that final preparation chamber into a blinding light. I realised that I was being led across a stage – at least I could walk properly, now that my ankles were free. I could only just see the audience beyond its edge, comfortably seated in a plush auditorium, and at the back of the stage, a large video screen was showing my progress, with my body blown up to 10 times life size. It was just as if they were holding a rock concert, but the only thing on the stage was me.

The conveyor led me up to three steps leading onto a small platform in the centre of the stage, and I mounted it. The conveyor stopped, and I was left standing there with my hands above my head. A spotlight then came on, and the small platform started to rotate, and I could see that my nude, oiled body was therefore being displayed from all sides on the video screen for the audience to see.

Just beyond the platform was a man with a microphone, and he began to talk to the audience. “This is lot 377, ladies and gentlemen. A 23 year old American. Like all our slaves, he is certified free of infectious diseases and HIV, his X-rays show no sign of lung disorders, and his ECG tells us that his heart is in excellent shape. In our opinion, he is in very good condition with an excellent muscle tone for a man of his age from America, and he can easily stand heavy training to turn him into a heavy-duty field slave, or a general purpose worker, or, of course, into a lithe sex toy.”

“Whilst we can’t certify his sexual orientation, there is no sign that he has been buggared, and it is possible that he has a virgin ass. Our agents in the USA, after his enslavement, interviewed a number of his friends and work mates anonymously, and he is believed to have been exclusively heterosexual. His balls are in full working order, and he produces live sperm should you want to breed from him. Whilst he still has a foreskin, the centre here will remove that at no additional charge should the purchaser prefer the more regular uncut cock.”

“He was enslaved only a week ago in the USA to pay off gambling debts he incurred, and brought to this country immediately because the USA still does not of course allow slaves to be owned there. He has had no experience of slavery, except for the routine processing that we have done here at the government auction centre. To some extent therefore you are buying an unknown quantity, but of course many of you, we know, prefer an untamed wild slave to a more docile farmed one”.

“So I am now opening the bidding for 377 at $100,000. Please use the key pads at your seats to enter your bids”.

Superimposed on the video screen showing my body a big 100,000 appeared in white letters, and this rapidly went up until it got to 350,000. It stopped there, and the auctioneer said “Is that your final bid, ladies and gentlemen? I will sell this slave in five seconds… four… three…” and then the 350 changed to 360, 370, 380, 390 in slow steps until it stopped again. The auctioneer said “Selling at 390,000 dollars in five seconds… four….three…. two… one… sold!”. The big 390,000 on the screen changed to a set of Arabic characters, and the auctioneer said “Slave 377 sold to the El Quadir Ranch”. And with that, the conveyor jerked into life again and led me off the stage.

In the chamber on the other side of the stage I was let down of the conveyor, and my wrists unshackled from the bar that had been holding them apart. I was allowed to remove the ballgag from my own mouth. There were of course guards with stun guns much in evidence, and a supervisor who said “377 into cage 8”. They took me through a door into a set of barred cells, and I was put into number 8 where, already there, was Hans. We were joined a few minutes later by Mike, and as other slaves came through and were put into different cages in the row, we realised that we had probably been sold to the same buyer.

The experience had clearly been very difficult for all of us, and we were shivering with tension now it was all over. We crouched there, on the bare concrete of the cage floor, three once proud men, covered in oil, our balls and asses shaved, not knowing what was in store for us.

To be continued …

WRITTEN BY

Pete Brown