Buying a slave

We walked into a large room, around which, a bit like the stalls at a conference, were numerous small stands. At each stand, there was a slave, along with a DoS overseer. We knew from the app that there were 18 slaves for sale, so there were 18 stands. As the group in front of us moved away from the first stand, our guide, Julia, led us forward.

There was quite a hubbub in the room now, as the buyers began circulating around the stands. Julia explained that we would visit each stand in turn where the slave would be displayed for us and introduced briefly by his overseer. As we had only an hour to get round, it was only about 3 minutes per slave. We would not be able to touch the slave or ask it any questions at that point. As we visited each station, we could scan the QR code using the app and go straight to all the information about that slave. If we wanted to express an interest, we could do so then, or we could add the slave to our ‘shortlist’ and narrow it down to four before the second section of the tour.

The first three booths that we went to were really not for us. A very skinny, clearly terrified, young lad, and then two older lifer slaves who were being sold by their previous owners. Booth four caught my eye straight away. Vic and I had already decided that we wanted a slave that was slightly older than us, and number 4 was 29. Six foot three tall, swimmers build. Nicely proportioned and a gorgeous arse. I know its shallow, but if we were going to have him around naked all day, we wanted something worth looking at. His backside had a set of fading cane strokes, which made it all the more appealing. He was a lifer, and I tried not to feel sorry for him, as he stood with his caged cock and balls clamped in a sort of vice which meant that he had to stand upright and couldn’t move. All the slaves were attached to these things, on a sort of turntable, so that the overseer could show us them all round without releasing them. They also all had leather collars around their necks to which their slave bands were clipped to keep their hands behind their heads. As with all the slaves, all his body hair had been removed for the sale, but he had longer blond hair and green eyes. The overseer said that he was university educated but would be eminently suitable for a personal or household slave. He could cook, as well, which was a plus. He went on our shortlist.

Numbers five to ten didn’t interest us either – Adam was every interested in all of them – they were all much more suitable for working on the land. And three of them were 10-year slaves, which would restrict our options – Vic and I had more or less decided we wanted a lifer. And one of the lifers had been extensively inked – the overseer said that his owner had died and he was up for sale from the estate, but whoever bought him would need to either pay for his ink to be lasered off, or have to have it blacked out – not for us.

We walked over to booth 11, and Vic was very keen straight away. I knew he would be – Vic has a thing for darker lads. This one was 31, 5’ 11”, more muscular than number 4 and clearly mixed race. The overseer told us that, if allowed to grow naturally, he was quite hairy. He was also circumcised, unlike number 4. His nice plumb buttocks showed that he had been beaten that morning – they were still quite red. He was a lifer too, but the only downside from my point of view was that his previous owner had had him ringed, and he had nipple rings, a septum ring and a Prince Albert. He was being sold because his owner had got married and his wife already had two slaves. We put him on the shortlist, but I wasn’t sure.

After passing five booths with either 10-year slaves or much older slaves - including one poor old thing who was 65 whom Adam said he was amazed had been put on public sale in the first place, he expected the slave had displeased its owner and so was being publicly sold as punishment – the slaves in both the last two booths went onto our shortlist. 17 was a little younger than we had initially planned – he was only 26, but he looked older for some reason. He looked like he had been a ‘lad’ before being enslaved for life. Shorter than the others we’d liked at only 5’ 9”, he had a boxer’s figure. Skinheaded, the only hair visible on his body was his eyebrows and eye lashes. The overseer said that he had needed longer in the training centre than some before he was properly broken, but after an additional week or two, he had been serving as a welcome slave in the hospitality area for the previous three weeks. The final slave, 18, was the only black slave in the sale. I felt even more conflicted about him, given slavery’s history for black people in America and the Caribbean, but at least we knew that he’d done something bad to be enslaved for life and this was the way he had to give back. He was 28, very good looking, with a sculpted body and a hard, bubble butt. Whilst I thought he was great and Vic was almost visibly drooling, Adam said that he would likely go for a high price, and he reckoned that there would be a bidding war between an older gay couple and the woman with the older slave with the stretched scrotum. He’d heard them talking about him when he popped to the loo and just thought they were going for him with a will. We thought it worth adding him to the list anyway.

As it happened, our ‘shortlist’ only had 4 slaves on it, the maximum permitted for further inspection, so we were able to get first ‘dibs’ for our selected slaves. We started with 17. It was quite different having 15 minutes just us and the overseer. The slave’s cage had been removed had he had a big cock, with just the tip of his glans peeking out of the end. I felt a bit self-conscious – even though I had been around slaves before, it had always been as a guest, and I had never interacted with them directly. Vic had no qualms, though, he felt up the slave, had him bend over so he could check his anus. I got emboldened and picked up one of the dildoes laid out on a table, lubed it up, and pushed it into the slave’s hole. He grunted as it entered him, but I knew that all the slaves would have been fucked by overseers and implements during their time at the training centre, so it would be far from the first time he had had something up his arse. I worked the dildo for a while, while Vic watched. We decided to test the slave’s fellatio skills, so the overseer led us behind a curtain where the slave was put on his knees. We both unzipped – it didn’t feel odd, even though Vic and I have never had sex – and got the slave working on us in turn. I was intrigued to see that he got rock hard while he was working on us, but the overseer said that quite a few of the slaves became aroused if unlocked when being used; even the ‘straight’ ones, like this one. The slave had been trained well to suck cock – he might have been straight but now he deep throated both of us like a pro – Vic is prodigiously hung, and the slave managed to get his nose right down into Vic’s pubes, only choking a bit when Vic held him in place and I realised he was pissing down the slave’s throat. I watched as the slave gulped down every drop without any problem – I knew that they had been trained that if they spilt a drop they would be severely punished. I was actually quite impressed that Vic could piss when hard – I would’ve struggled! Mind you, by the time he pulled out and had the slave lick the last few drops form his cock, he’d softened back down. I watched the slave closely – something that Uncle Joe had said about the sale was to watch the slaves’ expressions and body language when they were in use. He’d said we should look for any signs of truculence, arrogance or anger – whilst those slaves may well obey with the right discipline, what you really want is a slave who is resigned to his fate and wants to make the best of it by obeying and serving well. He also said to look out for slaves who seem too willing to serve – again, whilst that would not in itself be a bad sign, it may mean that they haven’t accepted that they have no choice and no say and that they think they can be ‘part of the family’. This was one reason that we’d decided to focus on lifers – they are more likely to be resigned to their fate as they have no way out. 17 looked pretty resigned to his lot – whilst he didn’t look happy when Vic finished with his throat, he did at least thank Vic politely for his piss as they are trained to do. He had quite a sexy Manchester accent. After a last quick inspection of his teeth, hole and genitals, our time was up and we moved on.

18 was next. He was gorgeous, although his uncaged cock was not as impressively large as 17’s. It didn’t take us very long to realise that he wasn’t going to be for us, though. He clearly still thought he was something special. And he was, no doubt, and would fetch a good price at auction but, despite being enslaved for life, he clearly thought he was better than Vic and I. When we took him behind the curtain to test his mouth, he didn’t lower his eyes as slaves are trained to do, rather he looked up into my eyes, almost as if he was saying that he was better than me. Although I told him twice to look down, he continued to defy me such that, once I had zipped my cock back into my trousers, the overseer took him back to the main booth, bent him over the bench, and paddled him soundly for his arrogance and disobedience. The slave took it silently, clearly unwilling to show that he was going to be broken. Vic and I were surprised that he had been put out for sale like this, but Adam had said before that some owners want ‘proud’ slaves, particularly for very humiliating duties. When the paddling didn’t seem to get through to the slave, the overseer took a large butt plug from a table, coated it in a red, thick lube, and forced it into the slave’s hole. The slave couldn’t hide the discomfort as his hole was stretched wide and he grimaced and grunted, letting out a loud hiss when the widest part of the plug pushed through his sphincter and his hole closed over its neck. Almost immediately, his face contorted again, and the overseer told us that he had used ‘grade 1 punishment lube’ on the plug. I’d read about punishment lube when we were thinking of getting a slave. It comes in various grades and formulations; Grade 1 is the harshest – basically it is a regular lube that has a compound added to it which is similar to chilli. It’s harmless to the slave but burns and itches for ages even after the plug or dildo has been withdrawn. It seemed to get through to 18, who grovelled at my feet and apologised for his disrespect. I wanted to say that it was all right, but the overseer told me just to ignore him – it was too easy for a slave to misbehave and then beg for forgiveness. He needed to learn to obey first time and without prompting. Whilst he was beautiful, Vic and I knew that he needed a harsher and more committed owner than we wanted to be.

Slightly disappointed, we moved on to 11. Close up, he was very striking. Not conventionally handsome, but very attractive. He was the only one on our shortlist who had been owned before – I should say that most of the slaves at the sale were for resale. In fact, only 5 of the 18 were on sale for the first time; all the others had been owned before, some of the older ones for quite some time. But it does tend to be older slaves who are up for resale, and we wanted a younger model! The overseer said that they had had to spend some time on him in the training centre as he had been owned by his previous owner for 10 years, having been bought by him when he was first enslaved, and he had been very unhappy to be put up for sale and had been quite resistant. But he seemed very obedient when we were inspecting him. His cock was quite a lot below average size when uncaged – the overseer said that if we checked his details on the app we would see that he had been caged in a very small cage by his previous owner which had shrunk him. Uncle Joe said that slaves’ cocks (they’re often referred to as a slave’s ‘willy’ to differentiate them from free men) usually shrink if they are kept locked up. Slaves all have to be milked at least every 6 weeks to keep them healthy – some owners do this themselves or even allow their slaves to jerk off, some have a ‘milking’ device that they can attach their slave to and have them despunked without any input from the owner. And, of course, there are the slave ‘barbers’ on industrial estates around the place - most owners who haven’t lasered off their slaves’ body hair will take their slaves there for waxing or shaving and for a more ‘traditional’ barbering experience and those owners who don’t want to engage with their slave’s willy at all can have them despunked there. You’ll know there has been a long discussion about whether slaves should all be castrated and whether owners should be allowed to completely emasculate lifer slaves, but that only seems to be popular in some of the further flung reaches of the right-wing press. And Free Scotland would really go mad about it if it got anywhere near becoming law and they’d be encouraging more and more runaways to cross the border. Anyway… 11 seemed quite a possibility, despite the ringing. The ring in his willy looked big now that he was uncaged and his nipple rings had stretched his nipples so they were very prominent. He was in very good shape – his previous owner had obviously kept him on a strict diet and exercise regime. We saw on the details on the app that he was actually a qualified personal trainer and his previous owner had had him working in a slave gym. This was quite attractive to us, as it would bring in some additional funds. I could tell that Vic was very keen, especially when we took him to the private area and used him orally. Vic also took a paddle to his backside and the slave reacted very nicely – we could see he was making an ‘impact’ and the slave wasn’t trying to remain stoical. Some owners like to see they are ‘getting through’ with discipline, others like a slave to take his punishment in silence. I am not a big fan of the silent approach, and this slave took it well, but was clearly feeling each stroke. I used a dildo on him as well, and he cleaned it obediently orally after I had taken it out of his arse. I was more impressed than I had expected to be with 11, and agreed with Vic that he was a possible top choice.

Lastly, we visited booth 4. The slave really was stunning – I could see that if someone was looking for a matched pair of slaves then him and 18 would go together very nicely. Despite his looks, I found him a bit ‘meh’. He wasn’t that orally talented, his anus was quite loose – I wondered if he had been a sex worker before being enslaved – and although I thought he would be a pretty addition to a household, he really needed to be in a more menial role to really make his slavery real for him. Maybe after a few years of hard labour he’d be a better household slave. Sadly, we agreed that he wasn’t really suitable for us.

A bell rang to signal that it was lunchtime, and we re-hooked up with Adam, Leo and Joe. A room at the end of the inspection hall had been set up for lunch. Each group had a table assigned, and the slaves were all kneeling up against the wall. Because this was part of the training centre, each slave was allocated to a ‘slave spot’ – basically a small marked square on the floor in which they knelt either with their noses to the wall, or looking out into the room, depending on their owner’s preference. The slaves that had been serving in the hospitality area were now taking orders and serving food. All of them were now displaying bright red bottoms, some had clearly been spanked, some paddled, some caned and one or two had flogging marks on their backs or thighs. They’d obviously all had a discipline session whilst we were otherwise occupied, and it looked good with them scurrying around. We talked about the slaves we’d looked at. Leo was quite disappointed as there wasn’t a suitable non-lifer slave for his needs, and so he wouldn’t be staying for the auction. Adam had identified five suitable slaves for his business, and Joe had his eye on number 18 and a slightly older Asian slave that we had discounted. We all agreed that 18 needed taking down quite a few pegs, and that being a menial slave in a hand laundry would really teach him a lesson. Particularly with Coe being younger, well-trained and serving in a more personal capacity.

Because Adam and Joe had been to sales more recently, I asked what happened next. Although I’d read about it, there wasn’t a lot of information.

“Well,” Adam said, “It’s actually quite dull. In the earlier days of slavery, it was a proper auction with live bidding. But with more slaves being up for sale and sales being more streamlined to a smaller number of centres, it was decided to basically automate it all.

“At the end of lunch, you’ll be asked to rank the slaves you are interested in and to add your highest bid for each of them. The system will then automatically allocate first-choice slaves to the highest bidder. If you lose out on your first choice, then you’ll still be in with a chance if you have a second-choice, and those slaves are then allocated to the highest bidder, and so on.

“With a sale like this, there will be some slaves that have no bids, and there may be others with only one. If a slave only has one bid against it, then he will sold for his reserve price, plus 10%. If you have ranked more than one slave, you’ll be prompted in the app if you win one and if you still have unused funds in the holding account to say whether you still wish to be considered for another. If you have used all your holding account funds on one slave, then you can only buy another if you add more to the holding account first. If you don’t get anything on your list, then the app will ask whether you are interested in any of the unsold slaves.

“If you are successful, your funds will be moved from the holding account, and you’ll need to transfer any remainder immediately through the app. If you’re not successful at all, then your funds will be released to you.

“When we go back into the inspection hall, each slave will be brought out in the order they were displayed – so 1 through to 18. The auctioneer will announce age, sentence, and the reserve price, and then will announce the winner of the auction and the final price. The winning bidder’s app will ping, and as soon as they accept the result and transfer any remaining funds, they immediately become the legal owner of that slave. Each slave will then be put back into his holding cage, and they will all be released at the end of the sale.”

Just as Adam finished talking, there was a smashing sound from across the room – one of the slaves had dropped a glass and it had broken. The room fell silent as an overseer strode over to the lad, a lanky ginger boy, put his knee on a chair, threw the slave over it and spanked him soundly until he was squealing and bucking, making his already flaming bum even brighter. The spanking seemed to go on for ages, the only sound in the room as all the would-be purchasers watched, some with interest, some with unconcealed glee. The slave was clearly not one of the stoical ones, as he flailed about over the burly overseer’s knee. The slave’s hands were gripping the chair, but his feet were dangling free, and he kicked and squirmed as his bottom got redder and redder. Eventually the spanking stopped. The overseer pushed the slave to the floor, roughly spread his flaming buttocks, took a medium sized butt plug from the tool belt around his waist, applied lube and thrust it into the slave’s hole, eliciting a gasp as his anus clamped down on the neck.

“That’ll be low grade punishment lube, I expect,” Joe said as we watched the slave struggle to his feet.

The slave turned to the room, his face blushing almost as bright red as his hair and his bottom, and in a very sexy Scottish lilt said clearly,

“Masters and mistresses, I humbly apologise for my failing.” He knelt and kissed the overseer’s boots,

“Thank you, Sir, for disciplining me.”

He got up and scurried quickly away into the kitchen, his bottom shining behind like the fog lamps of a truck.

After a few moments, the general buzz of conversation resumed. Of course, to everyone in the room, this wasn’t the first time seeing a slave disciplined in public. We’ve all seen it occasionally. I remember the first time I really clocked it – I was in sixth form and me and a group of mates had gone into town to get some lunch. There was an older man in the chippie with his slave. They say that in Ancient Rome the slaves were dressed like their owners because if they stood out it would be all too clear just how they outnumbered the free population. Well, it’s nothing like that here – although I’ve been talking as if there are slaves everywhere, there’s only five sales sites, they have a sale about once a month and there are rarely more than twenty-five slaves at each sale, and usually fewer than twenty. So we’re talking around a thousand men a year being sold. And at this sale, half of those being sold were resales. So probably only between five and eight hundred a year are new to slavery. And, OK, the really serious offenders don’t get sold to the public but are put to work by the government and councils, but it is still way fewer men in slavery than there were in prisons forty years ago. That has to be better, right?

Oh god, soapbox time again! Sorry… back to the chippie. The older man and his slave… The rules have changed since then, but the slave was in what was then the ‘minimum slave covering’, which in this case was a nothing but a very small pair of black running-type shorts, with a long split up both outer legs. The slave was kneeling beside his owner while the old chap sat and ate his lunch. Every now and then, the man fed the slave a chip or a piece of fish. When he was done, the man told his slave to clear the table, and as he did so, he knocked over the vinegar bottle. The old man stood up without a word, pulled down the slave’s shorts, bent him over the table, took a small paddle out of his bag, and whaled away on the slave’s upturned bum. We watched, fascinated, as the slave grunted, whimpered, and wriggled, until the old man stopped and allowed the slave to cover itself again. He then made the slave clear then lick the table clean, before he was sent back to the counter to apologise to the young guy serving for making a mess and for his owner having to discipline him in the restaurant. As they were leaving, the old guy turned to us and said,

“You boys make sure to keep out of trouble, or it’ll be you bare-arsed in public getting a hiding!”