Duped

Just inches separate Finbar and me from the African father and son. But the bars of our prison are both a physical and emotional barrier between us and they define our vastly different roles. On our side of this physical barrier is the sad world of slaves. The holding pen defines us as two, naked slaves about to be appraised; while the other side of the bars represents the world of free man as represented by the Malik and the two Africans and it is a world which is now closed to me forever.

The physical barrier is there for all to see. However, the emotional barrier is less tangible and is noticeable in the differing attitudes of those standing on either side of the bars. My emotions are those of one who has been dispossessed of his past and denied a future. Just twenty-four hours ago I'd been a successful London-based lawyer with a promising future ahead of me. Today, by the cruel hand that fate has dealt me, I am a powerless slave doomed to lifelong servitude. Naturally, this unwelcome development in my life leaves me traumatized and with very mixed emotions.

I bitterly resent Anwar's betrayal of me. It hurts that the trust and friendship I'd given to him has been cruelly abused. And yet, I know deep within that he is right about me. I do possess a slave's nature and temperament and this has manifested itself so readily throughout the happenings of the past day. Paradoxically, much as I hate the thought of being a slave to another man, I am also erotically aroused by the notion of serving a Master. How many times over the years had I dreamed of serving an Arab Master?  Arabs had always been uppermost in my fantasies and not once had I ever thought about being a slave to a black man. Now there is the very real possibility that I soon shall be.

As a slave, I must wait for the Africans to take the initiative. But for now they seem content to just visually scan Finbar and me. Pressed up against the bars, we are just inches from them and we wait expectantly for the first exploratory touch of their hands upon our nakedness.

As we wait, I am able to evaluate these two men who have come to inspect us.

The father is handsomely arrogant and he is expensively dressed in a grey, Italian, business suit which is complemented by a white shirt of the finest cotton and a well-co-ordinated navy blue and maroon paisley patterned tie. Everything about the man exudes wealth and its associated power. Instinctively, I know this is a man who'll not tolerate any stupidity or slackness from his subordinates. How much less then would he tolerate poor performance from his slaves? I know, should I become this man's property, that he will prove a stern taskmaster.

Ahmedu Hadi - for that is his name - is a very handsome man and his clothing does nothing to hide his impressive physique which shows through the smart cut of his eloquent clothes. His son, Abdel, is equally as handsome in a younger, less mature way but he also has the arrogance and same physical presence as his father. He is dressed more casually in tailored, fawn shorts and a figure hugging, blue polo shirt which highlights the contours of his imposing teenaged body. Interestingly, I see the prominent bulge in his shorts which suggests he is massively aroused. The tent pole points in the direction of Fin and me and there is some satisfaction in knowing that, quite possibly, we are the cause of his excitement.

I grow anxious as I wait for Ahmedu's next move and I begin to nervously shuffle my feet and to fidget. This earns me a stern rebuke from Malik.

"Stop fidgeting, slave Stand still or I'll have an overseer put his whip to your ass!"

Fear of the whip overcomes my nervousness and I stand still waiting on Ahmedu Hadi.

"For a new slave he responds well to an order." Ahmedu says approvingly. "That's most pleasing!"

"The slave is very docile and has quickly adapted to his changed circumstances." Malik replies. "He won't give his new master any trouble of that I am absolutely sure. His current master, my friend Anwar, always predicted that he was meant for slavery. He recognized the slave within the free man at their first meeting and he worked assiduously to grant this new slave his heart's desire."

"Then he chose well for the slave is everything of which you boasted, Malik" Ahmedu replies approvingly. "He is indeed well set-up and most handsome and would be a most welcome addition to my household."

"How many slaves do you possess, Ahmedu?"

"To be honest, Malik, I'm not absolutely sure. Because I am away on business so much I leave such matters in the hands of my very capable major domo, Obike."

"There are twenty-one, Dad!" Abdel interjects. "We have twenty-one slaves in our household."

"There you have it Malik!" Ahmedu laughs. "My son knows my home better than I do."

"That's a lot of slaves to control, Ahmedu." Malik asks. "How do you manage so many?"

"Oh, I leave the discipline of the slaves in the very capable hands of Obike. Although, I am aware that Abdel now assists Obike in his management of them. Obike tells me that Abdel wields the cane and the paddle to great effect."

"But why do you have so many slaves?"

"In my household, the slaves aren't kept just as ornaments; although, as you know, I do first and foremost buy them for their fine physiques and good looks. But they must work for their food and lodgings. My house and its grounds are extensive and the slaves are gainfully employed at all times.  All are multi-faceted and capable of working outdoors in the gardens or within the house. Of course, I entertain a lot and the slaves have a role to play there serving as waiters. And of course there are their special duties."

"May I ask what is involved in their special duties?"

"Malik, I entertain my business associates from around the world at home and I am often involved in earnest discussions with them. I find making a slave available for their sexual gratification works wonders with them.  My slaves have the capacity to sweeten the mood of even the most difficult client."

"Then if you buy this slave, will he be used to entertain your guests and business associates?"

"But of course! Most assuredly one of his major duties will be to willingly offer his ass and mouth to my friends and clients. I require this of all my slaves."

I listen in horror to this discussion about my "special duties" should I become Ahmedu Hadi's slave. I will, in effect, become a "whore slave" whose primary purpose will be to assist my Master in his business dealings by prostituting myself. Even in my most fantastical dreams, I'd not foreseen such an eventuality.

"Do any of your slaves ever fail to please your business associates?"

"It does happen occasionally! But most of my slaves work conscientiously to satisfy my clients. They fear the consequences of a client reporting to me that he was left unfulfilled or dissatisfied by their efforts."

"What happens to such a slave, Ahmedu?"

"He is shipped upriver to my plantation to work as a common field slave."

"You have a plantation? What crops do you grow on your plantation?"

"We grow mainly tree crops - cacao, oil palms and rubber. But we also grow root crops like cassava, yams, taro and sweet potatoes. Of course all of these crops are labour intensive and require a large number of slaves to produce profitable crops. But I'm happy to say that my plantation returns a most handsome profit. But it wasn't always so. When I inherited the plantation from my grandfather it was operating at a loss. However, for sentimental family reasons I kept it and applied the best business practises to it to ensure it became self-sustaining and didn't become a financial drain on my other business interests."

"Then Ahmedu, it is a measure of your undoubted business acumen that your plantation now runs at a profit. But from the way you speak it would appear that slavery is tolerated in your country."

"Indeed it is Malik! Of course, officially it's not legal but it is benignly tolerated to such an extent that most people are very open about the slaves they own. It's now more common to see slaves in public than it was just five years ago.  It's a measure of just how tolerant we have become in the use of the slave labour which contributes so significantly to our emerging national economy."

"Much as it is here in Maluchistan. It's not officially recognized but it is openly tolerated. And that is how it should be. Only good can come from slavery.  I see nothing wrong with one man owning another and profiting from the relationship. The relationship between Master and slave is a symbiotic one. The Master provides the slave with gainful employment, adequate food and shelter and the slave's meagre labour rewards the Master financially for his goodness to the slave."

"You are a man after my own heart, Malik. I couldn't agree more. A slave's true purpose is to work for the betterment of his Master."

"Ahmedu, obviously, you and I see eye to eye on that. But let us return to these two beauties."

Malik cleverly brings attention back to Fin and me.

"Indeed, Malik! Abdel and I should continue with our inspections of these two slaves."

Suddenly, Ahmedu reaches through the bars and places both hands on my heaving chest. His touch is electrifying and little sparks of pleasure surge through my body alerting my brain to the sensuous feel of his hands. His fingers seek out my sensitive nipples and plays with them. As he twists, pinches and teases them to needle-point hardness, I begin to breathe more heavily. Ahmedu watches appreciatively as my chest rises and falls with each ragged breath and he nods approvingly at the nervous fluttering of my belly muscles. Gently, he uses an index finger to trace down the centre line of my abdominals to my navel. He pauses and inserts his finger into the indent and probes its depth before withdrawing it and switching his attention to my genitals.

I recall the earlier advice that I should "sell myself in the hope of attracting a good master" and so I widen my stance and suggestively poke my cock and balls out through the bars. Ahmedu is amused by my action and laughingly tells Malik.

"The slave is eager to impress! Well then, I mustn't disappoint him."

He takes fold of my scrotum and tugs it out through the bars to better gauge the size of my balls.  Then, he runs the tip of a finger along the sensitive underside of my cock.  My knees sag at the delicious torture he subjects it to and I am as putty in his hands. Wilfully my cock betrays my eagerness until its rigidity almost matches that of the iron bars of my prison.

As Ahmedu continues to arouse me, I'm suddenly aware that his son is subjecting Fin to a similar examination. I hear Finbar's plea to the young, African teenager.

"Please young Master, feel my cock and judge how hard I am. Buy me young Master and you'll find me a most willing slave. Young Master, do you want to examine my ass?"

"I've heard the saying about the product selling itself to the buyer," Ahmedu Hadi laughs heartily, "and your slave is living proof of that, Malik. Your slaves are always so eager to sell themselves."

"I fear it's no more than self-interest on the slave's part." Malik comments drily. "All slaves are eager to attract a good master. Slaves are naturally cunning creatures and no doubt this slave is seeking to ingratiate himself into Abdel's good graces."

I know there is truth in Malik's word. Earlier on, I'd been part of the conversation with the six waiters when I was told it's permissible for a slave to vocally encourage a potential buyer by pointing out the most saleable features of his body. Of course, I understand the logic of this. After all, Finbar and the other five had spent the past twelve months in onerous servitude. Who could blame them for trying to attract a potentially benign owner? And no doubt life as a pleasure slave is preferable to that of a heavy duty work slave. But the idea that I would verbally sell myself is anathema to me. I doubt that I could bring myself to beg Ahmedu Hadi to.

"Master, I beg you to come and feel the hardness of my cock".

But I don't have to beg or to ask.  Ahmedu reaches in through the bars and takes hold of my rampant cock. He wraps his fist around it in a tight stranglehold while he uses his thumbnail to deliciously tease the opening of my piss-slit. Slowly at first, his fist begins to piston along the shaft lifting me to higher levels of enjoyment. Then as he quickens his pace I respond; as my breathing quickens, my knees sag a little and my hips begin an involuntary thrusting against the bars of my prison. Ahmedu has rendered me helpless and I am a prisoner of my own mounting passion.

As Ahmedu's eyes bore into me, I cast my eyes downwards at my cock. I feel the pleasurable contractions as my precum dribbles from my piss-slit and hangs threadlike from the eye of my cock.  Using the index finger of his free hand, Ahmedu captures the thread of my precum and touches my lips with the finger. There's an unspoken instruction for me to open my mouth and to suck his finger.  As I do so, I taste the sweetness of my own male essence and eager for more, I begin to suckle the finger much as a calf hungrily suckles its mother's teat.  This pleases Ahmedu and I wonder if he is imagining that I have his cock in my mouth rather than his finger.

"The slave's mouth has good suction!" Ahmedu declares to no one in particular; it's as though he is thinking out aloud. "That's another point in his favour."

"Then, does he meet with your approval, Ahmedu?" Malik asks.

"Indeed he does, Malik! But now I will need to check out his ass. In the final analysis, that will be the deciding factor. "

"Indeed, as it is with all slaves bound for their Masters' beds." Malik adds, sagely.

I look to see what is happening with Fin. I'd been too engrossed in Ahmedu's inspection of me to pay him and Abdel much attention.

Finbar stands with his body pressed hard against the bars. As I look at him, I can see him doing his utmost to attract Abdel's interest.

Fin is an impressive, young slave in his mid-twenties and possesses a magnificent physique; his slave- smooth, hairless body admirably emphasises his well-defined musculature.  I have to say he is without doubt one of the handsomest men I've ever seen. His closely cropped, dark blond hair is thick suggesting it would be naturally curly and his eyes are the bluest I've seen. As the teenaged Abdel reaches between the bars to touch his chest and belly, he pushes his body forward and smiles beguilingly - no doubt hoping to impress - and his full red lips part to show his even, white teeth.

He responds to Abdel's touch by moving his groin even closer to the bars until his genitals protrude in a blatant invitation to the young African to fondle them. Abdel accepts the invitation and slowly strokes the willing cock to a hard erection. Fin is an accomplished showman; he moans appreciatively and writhes suggestively against the bars. Obviously he has learned much over the past twelve months not the least being how to attract and hold the interest of an admirer.

Suddenly, Abdel orders Fin to.

"Turn around."

Fin obeys willingly and presents himself for inspection. He moves his legs apart, pushes his buttocks as close to the bars as possible and leans inwards into the pen. He has positioned himself strategically for Abdel to inspect him and he wriggles his ass in a cheeky invitation to the teenager to examine him more closely.

I watch as Fin thrusts back and forth and I hear his soft moaning as he rides Abdel's finger. In the effort to "sell his body" Fin is proving to be a cunning slave. He recognises the keen interest being shown in him and he is striving to turn this inspection to his advantage.

While it's obvious that Finbar is a clever slave; it's also clear to me that he is faking. But rather than annoy Abdel, the slave is proving popular with the young African.

I wonder if I should take my lead from Fin. Certainly in his case it seems to be paying dividends.

"Tell me Abdel, how goes the inspection of your slave?" Ahmedu asks. "Does he come up to your expectations?"

"Yes Dad! He's a fine slave and I like him very much. Can we buy him Dad ....... Please?"

"Steady on there, son! Let's not jump the gun. We need to test him more fully before we make a final decision.  Remember looks can be deceiving. He might look good but we need to know everything is in good working order."

"Well Dad, so far I can't fault him. He has good balls, his cock is in good working order and his ass is tight. And he looks good!"

"Those are all good points in his favour son but remember a slave's charms aren't always obvious to the eye. Sometimes, one must probe deeper to find them. We need to know that he can meet our demands and please us. Allow me in finish the inspection of my slave and then, with Malik's permission, we'll retire to a private room and test-run the two slaves. I take it you have no objections to that Malik?"

"I have none whatsoever, Ahmedu! Both slaves are at your disposal. Just tell me when you are ready and I'll have the overseers take them to a private viewing suite. But tell me, Ahmedu, will you require two single suites?  Or will you share a double suite with Abdel?"

"We'll share a room and if the flesh is willing we'll share the two slaves, Malik." Ahmedu laughs.  "What do you say, son? Are you up for it?"

"I'm up for it if you are Dad." Abdel retorts. "But from where I'm standing I can see you are too!"

I listen to this friendly banter between father and son and the double entendre of Ahmedu's question - "are you up for it?"  And his son's jocular reply isn't lost on me.  I have only to look at the tent-poling at the front of both the Africans to know they are well and truly "up for it".

It would appear that Fin and I are about to be put to hard usage by both the father and his son.  However, Ahmedu hasn't quite finished his inspection of me and he instructs me to.

"Turn around and show me you ass, boy!"

Like Fin, I start to move into position to present my ass for examination. However, before I do so Ahmedu tells me to stop. Puzzled, I do as I am instructed while he closely inspects the site of my new brand.

"Malik, the slave's brand looks very raw. I do hope no lasting damage has been done to him," the tone of his voice expresses Ahmedu's concerns, "and undoubtedly, it's also quite painful."

Of course, my new brand is both excruciatingly painful and blister ugly. It throbs with burning intensity and, "ghostlike", I still feel the branding iron searing itself into my flesh. I remember reading once that even after a leg is amputated one can feel the nerves tingling in the missing limb. And that is how it is with me; I still feel the red hot pain of yesterday's branding-iron.

"I wouldn't be overly concerned, Ahmedu. The slave hasn't been damaged in any way. My brander is a deft hand with the branding iron. I'll grant you it looks ugly now - but all fresh brands do till they heal. Over the next few days a crust will form over the brand giving the flesh beneath the time it needs to heal. Within no time the brand will show up sharp and crisp on the slave's flank. And you are correct when you say it's painful. All slave's fight against being branded; it's in their natures to do so.  Their protests are futile however. It's an unfortunate consequence of slavery that they must be branded to denote their true status. And after they are branded, they inevitably weep and wail. As this slave did!"

"I suppose you're right, Malik! It's just that it looks so ugly against the flawless perfection of his skin.  But as you so rightly say - all slaves must be branded with the mark of their servitude."

Malik's comments obviously re-assure Ahmedu for he orders me to.

"Continue slave and present your ass for my inspection."

As I do so, I'm aware that Abdel has finished his examination of Fin and is now watching his father.

I notice that Fin too is watching closely. Momentarily, our eyes meet and I see a flicker of a supporting smile at the corners of his mouth. With a slight nod of his head, he encourages me to co- operate.

I think back and remember what Fin had done just a few minutes ago and I copy him. I turn to face into my cell and press my ass back hard against the bars separating me from freedom. I move my feet apart to give me greater balance and finally, I lean forward to open up the most private part of my body to the African's scrutiny.

But Ahmedu still isn't satisfied and instructs me to.

"Reach behind and spread your ass cheeks, boy!"

Momentarily, my pride and embarrassment take hold of me and I hesitate. Malik is well used to a new slave's wilfulness and he senses my reluctance. Angrily, he rebukes me.

"You were given an order, Franj! Obey or I'll have the whip put to your back. Obey or suffer the consequences of you disobedience."

Then he apologizes to Ahmedu.

"Allow me to offer one thousand apologies for the slave's hesitation, Ahmedu! Do you want the miserable wretch punished?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Malik. He's a new slave and in this instance I'll make allowance for that. But should I buy him, then rest assured they'll be no such consideration given to him should he hesitate to obey an order."

Malik's threat to use the whip on me fuels my new slave's fear of punishment. I'd witnessed Anwar punishment of Sven on several occasions and I knew of the awful pain that the cane is capable of inflicting on naked flesh. And yesterday, I'd already felt the cane; but when compared to the savagery of Sven's canings, I knew these were just "playful cuts" meant to encourage me to obey and to leave me relatively unmarked for the auction-block.

The thought of the cane frightens me but the threat of the whip absolutely terrifies me. This fear swamps any sense of shame or humiliation I feel. Hastily, I reach behind and take an ass-cheek in each hand and spread them apart. However, my face burns with the heat of my shame and glows blood scarlet from my humiliation.

The shameful spreading of my buttocks leaves me feeling very vulnerable and I realize that I am there for Ahmedu's convenience and I must wait for his next move. He can do as he chooses with me and I have no alternative but to submit to his will. I wait acquiescently on his pleasure!

Slowly, the seconds tick by and each seems like a minute as I wait for Ahmedu to begin his examination of me. I'm aware of the nervous puckering of my sphincter as it awaits Ahmedu's probing finger and my body is covered in a nerve induced sweating.  I think back to all those innumerable times, when in my wild, erotic fantasies, my imagination had placed me in similar situations. How I'd enjoyed those occasions when my orgasms had climaxed in cataclysmic eruptions. But this isn't fantasy; this is for real and I am no longer the slave of my fanciful dreams. I am in every sense a real slave and soon I will belong to a real life Master rather than a make believe one.

Given that I'd wished this upon myself so often in the past how can I now complain when my wishful fantasy has turned into grim reality?

My feelings are very conflicted. One part of me is repulsed by what is happening to me and yet I quiver in anticipation of what is inevitably to follow. I am strangely drawn to this handsome, masterful man who is inspecting me and if I am truthful I want to feel his hands exploring my body. I wonder if this is the type of early bonding a slave feels for his new master.

Paradoxically, I am aroused as never before. My balls are constricted within my fear shrivelled scrotum and my cock is rock hard. And it throbs with such delicious intensity as I wait on Ahmedu. I sense his movements behind me and suddenly I feel his finger touching the base of my spine at the beginning of my ass-crack.  His touch is electrifying and small volts of pleasure surge through my body reducing me to a tingling mass of nerve ends.

Slowly his finger moves down the deep cleft between my widely spread buttocks and I anticipate the feel of it on the hot opening into my body. But I am disappointed; rather than touch my eager, pulsating flesh Ahmedu's finger ignores my quivering sphincter and instead teasingly traces a circle around it before continuing along my perineum to my testicles. He appraises the size, shape and density of my balls by rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Then, as he reaches under my belly for my cock, I shuffle my feet further apart to give him easier access to me. This was done without thinking on my part; it just seemed the natural thing for me to do. He encircles the girth of my cock in a firm grasp and squeezes it to test its thickness and rigidity. Then he begins to slide his hand up and down its length and, at the same time, he tantalizingly teases my piss-slit.

Apparently, Ahmedu is pleased with what he has discovered about me so far and, as he slowly pumps my cock, he appreciatively tells Malik and Abdel.

"The slave's got nice sized, juicy balls and an iron rod for a cock. But now it's time for me to check further."

I know to what Ahmedu refers and I brace myself for the final assault on both my body and my dignity. I feel an exploratory finger delicately teasing my asshole; tickling it to both excite and to relax it for a more probing search. My body trembles and my legs sag as waves of pleasure engulf me.

Then suddenly, without warning, Ahmedu cruelly thrusts his finger through my clenched sphincter and begins to probe my inner depths. My audible gasp as he does so is an indication of both my discomfort and surprise. It does however cause Abdel to jokingly comment.

"Hey Dad! It looks as though you have a really tight pussy there judging from all the grunting the slave is making."

"Well, Abdel, he's tight that's for sure. The slave's ass is as tight as a drumhead and he promises to be a good fuck I should think!"

"Really, that's not surprising, Ahmedu." Malik interjects.  "From what his owner tells me he was a virgin until yesterday when his Master, Anwar saddle broke him for the first time. And while he's technically not a virgin, he's also greatly under used and promises good sport for his fortunate new owner."

"Indeed, he does, Malik. It will be a lucky man who eventually owns this slave."

Ahmedu's finger probes deep seeking out my prostate. The initial discomfort soon wans and I am left with the enjoyable feeling of being finger-fucked. Waves of pleasure engulf me and involuntarily my rectal muscles grip the invading finger in a tight grasp and seek to hungrily draw it further into the warm recesses of my body. At the same time, I begin to ride the finger and I'm aware that I'm thrusting my hips back and forth.

Oh, it feels good!

Momentarily, I'm oblivious to my grim surroundings or the precariousness of my situation. These are made inconsequential by the erotic pleasures engulfing me. I'm unaffected by the fact that Malik, his overseers, Abdel and Finbar are watching my reactions with salacious interest. Even the other slaves have stirred from their lethargy and are crowded against the bars of their pens watching Ahmedu's fingering of me. Perhaps they see in his actions something of their own futures after they are sold on Saturday.

The silence of the pens is broken by the sounds of my pleasure-filled whimpering and my occasional grunt as the finger probes deeper into me. I hear Ahmedu's laboured breathing and his appreciative sighs as I react favourably to his ministrations. I hear the shuffling of naked feet against dry straw bedding as my fellow slaves manoeuvre for a better view of proceedings.

And above these, I hear the slurping sound Ahmedu's finger makes as it suctions with ever- increasing urgency in and out of my eager ass-hole.

Ahmedu's hand still encircles the shaft of my cock and he continues to masturbate me. Gradually, he synchronizes the up and down sliding movement of his hand to the in and out thrusting of his finger.  I am rendered helpless by this African who could soon be my Master should I please him and he chooses to buy me. Suddenly, I want that to be the case! This man is lifting me to heights of erotic pleasure that I'd never experienced before. Already, in my mind, I regard Ahmedu as my Master.

With this in mind, I emulate Finbar's actions of a few minutes ago when Abdel had inspected him. I grind my hips and I moan loudly - and appreciatively - to indicate to Ahmedu just how much I am responding to his ministrations.

Suddenly his finger finds it mark and as it teases my prostate, I'm swamped by indescribable, pleasurable sensations. My knees sag and my body is convulsed by an uncontrollable trembling. My cock throbs with a desperate urgency and I feel the churning deep within my balls that presage an ejaculation of Vesuvian violence.

Yet, my instincts tell me this isn't allowed; I must save my ejaculation until later when we are alone in the privacy of the viewing suite. I fight against the rising tide of my passion; but it is an uneven battle and one I am doomed to lose. Suddenly, when I am almost at the point of no return, Ahmedu withdraws his finger and reaches through the bars to playfully slap my ass.

Obviously, Ahmedu is well-versed in how far to take a slave before it loses control. He commands me to.

"Turn and face the front, slave!"

My obedience to his command is immediate and absolute. I am overwhelmed with a strong desire to please this man above all else.

"Well Dad! What's your opinion of the slave?" Abdel asks his father. "Does he measure up?"

"The slave pleases me very much Abdel! He's a fine slave."

Ahmedu's words give me hope. They encourage to reach out to him and to ask.

"Please Master, buy me?"

My words to Ahmedu are simple but sincere. They aren't so much a plea; they are more of an expression of my new found yearning. Fate in the form of Anwar's betrayal has delivered me into slavery. I have now accepted the inevitable and I know there is no chance of regaining my freedom.  And like Finbar and the other waiters I have to make the most of my situation and instinctively I know I have pleased this man who seeks to own me.  I consider the uncertainty of my situation; it would seem to be owned by Ahmedu as his pleasure slave offers me the best options for the immediate future.

Ahmedu ignores my request and turns to Malik.

"Malik, I'm very interested in these two slaves and if you are willing, my son and I would like to test them further. Is that possible?"

"Ahmedu, all things are possible. The two slaves are at your disposal and I'm sure they'll not disappoint you and Abdel.  Allow me to organize their removal to a viewing suite and while that is being done can I offer you and Abdel some refreshment - a cooling sherbet and honeyed figs perhaps?"

"Malik, you are a most gracious host and we accept your kind offer of refreshments."

"Then let us retire to my private quarters and allow my overseers to transfer the slaves to a viewing suite for your closer inspection!"

To be continued......

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