The dimmed lights suddenly brightened on the capacity crowd of forty five potential bidders packing the cramped confines of the auction house, momentarily silencing the excited chatter as the auctioneer gripped the sides of his podium and leaned into the microphone. ‘Welcome,’ his seductive baritone fairly purred, ‘to Rough Goods where quality is, nevertheless…king!’ Tepid applause, the resumption of some clipped conversation and the clink of near-empty house wine goblets greeted his remark; there was little patience for opening formalities as everyone was eager to view (and bid on) the evening’s offerings.
The auctioneer’s dead smile never wavered. He cleared his throat, ‘Our first offering tonight is both a superb specimen and (he paused for effect) very rare.’ He had the patrons’ undivided attention. ‘As you are all no doubt aware, a newly enslaved male is required by federal law to undergo a period of training and conditioning of not less than three months prior to sale.’ Several heads on the floor bobbed in knowing agreement. ‘This is in order to render him safe; amenable to his fate, accustomed to obedience and the consequences of discipline, and fully aware of what to expect from his new station in life.’ There was a subtle restlessness on the floor; not of boredom, but of anticipation. They sensed what was coming. An arrhythmic sound of shuffling bare feet and low grunting could be heard just to the left of the small stage euphemistically referred to as the ‘block’ seconds before a young man wearing beltless faded levis but stripped to the waist emerged into the bright light. His hands were bound securely behind his back and both the captive’s body posture and the expression on his handsome face spoke eloquently of a potent mix of emotions ranging from shocked dismay to bitter resentment and open anger.
“Valued customers!’ the auctioneer was galvanized, ‘What you see before you is a first, even for Rough Goods!’ He deftly spread wide the fly of the tensed buck’s levis revealing the tight mesh of a bulging jockstrap beneath the gaping denim. The audience broke into cat calls and cheers as the reluctant prisoner dug bare heels into the waxy floor boards and growled a surly ‘FUCK this!!!’ which was fully audible at least five rows back. His refusal to move into position at center stage and the remark indicating an unfeigned attitude was quickly remedied by a stern-faced handler wielding an electric cattle prod set to a low voltage. The newly enslaved young male groaned his displeasure as the jolt of electricity seared his left flank, but the sudden lesson in obedience was, nevertheless, learned; he reluctantly moved to the center of the stage.
‘Gentlemen (there were no women among the bidders that evening), what you see before you will only ever be made available at Rough Goods. Yes, legally obtained with a COMPLETE waver of the mandatory three-month training period…just YESTERDAY this handsome buck was Dan Conroy freshly convicted of petty theft and failure to pay child support. Now, he is simply lot ‘seventy-eight’. Raw and unseasoned, he may be YOURS for the sport of thorough training!’ A few in the small crowd burst into applause as the auctioneer continued, ‘Release him from his shackles.’ A grinning assistant complied even as the handler with the live prod moved forward in order to ensure the angry buck remained on the block, ready to obey any and all commands.
Dan Conroy rubbed his chaffed wrists and glared at the gathered spectators. His deep chest heaved with pent up anxiety; every instinct crying out to either fight or bolt from the stifling room. The auctioneer tersely ordered his sweating merchandise to strip off his sagging trousers. Glancing briefly at the prod-wielding handler, Dan reluctantly complied. Now, acutely conscious of the fact that he only wore a jock strap, the new slave felt the heat of the glaring overhead lights on his naked skin and shook his blond head in stupefied confusion as the handler ordered him to slowly turn around…in order to afford the customers a complete view. Heaving a ragged sigh, Dan did as he was told then extended his arms, flexing on command, and assuming a variety of poses. Though properly obedient, it was clear to everyone that the freshly enslaved young miscreant was utterly unreconciled to his fate, seething with resentment at the unaccustomed shame.
‘Strip off your jock strap,’ the auctioneer barked and, addressing the bidders, added, ‘the buck’s a proven breeder and could easily double any investment by being put to stud.’ Temporarily lost to reason and overwhelmed by the prospect of deeper humiliation, Dan initially refused, muttering an emphatic ‘no fucking way’ even as the grim faced handler brushed his quivering flank with the prod. Dan’s yelp of very real pain elicited more applause as the auctioneer repeated his command, ‘Strip off the jockstrap, boy, and let the customers have a look at your equipment.’ Dan’s gray eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he slowly complied, blushing furiously under the overheads with legs duly spread and arms raised, hands clasped behind his head. He flinched as grinning assistants invited interested customers to come forward for a more intimate examination; stroking the well-defined muscles of his nude torso and, of course, hefting the stud’s hot testicles and thick penis. Dan groaned, swallowing fresh rage, as an electrified anal probe was inserted, quickly inducing an erection followed by a copious ejaculation. It was only then that the tears brimmed over previously glassy eyes, though he never lowered his arms to brush them away.
Frantic bidding then commenced and the buck that had been Dan Conroy went under the hammer; sold for a five figure sum to a wealthy rancher named Lem Hutchins. Lem owned a big spread in the eastern part of the state and worked his muscular herd of young slaves damn hard but he could also, nevertheless, appreciate the assets of a handsome young male and was already filled with any number of plans for his new boy. Hell, Lem thought as he signed the credit card receipt, I kind of like the name Dan, yeah, the boy can keep that…he licked his lips, training you is gonna be pure joy. How about we start first thing tomorrow? No…make that this evening.
bdsmeagle
The dimmed lights suddenly brightened on the capacity crowd of forty five potential bidders packing the cramped confines of the auction house, momentarily silencing the excited chatter as the auctioneer gripped the sides of his podium and leaned into the microphone. ‘Welcome,’ his seductive baritone fairly purred, ‘to Rough Goods where quality is, nevertheless…king!’ Tepid applause, the resumption of some clipped conversation and the clink of near-empty house wine goblets greeted his remark; there was little patience for opening formalities as everyone was eager to view (and bid on) the evening’s offerings.
The auctioneer’s dead smile never wavered. He cleared his throat, ‘Our first offering tonight is both a superb specimen and (he paused for effect) very rare.’ He had the patrons’ undivided attention. ‘As you are all no doubt aware, a newly enslaved male is required by federal law to undergo a period of training and conditioning of not less than three months prior to sale.’ Several heads on the floor bobbed in knowing agreement. ‘This is in order to render him safe; amenable to his fate, accustomed to obedience and the consequences of discipline, and fully aware of what to expect from his new station in life.’ There was a subtle restlessness on the floor; not of boredom, but of anticipation. They sensed what was coming. An arrhythmic sound of shuffling bare feet and low grunting could be heard just to the left of the small stage euphemistically referred to as the ‘block’ seconds before a young man wearing beltless faded levis but stripped to the waist emerged into the bright light. His hands were bound securely behind his back and both the captive’s body posture and the expression on his handsome face spoke eloquently of a potent mix of emotions ranging from shocked dismay to bitter resentment and open anger.
“Valued customers!’ the auctioneer was galvanized, ‘What you see before you is a first, even for Rough Goods!’ He deftly spread wide the fly of the tensed buck’s levis revealing the tight mesh of a bulging jockstrap beneath the gaping denim. The audience broke into cat calls and cheers as the reluctant prisoner dug bare heels into the waxy floor boards and growled a surly ‘FUCK this!!!’ which was fully audible at least five rows back. His refusal to move into position at center stage and the remark indicating an unfeigned attitude was quickly remedied by a stern-faced handler wielding an electric cattle prod set to a low voltage. The newly enslaved young male groaned his displeasure as the jolt of electricity seared his left flank, but the sudden lesson in obedience was, nevertheless, learned; he reluctantly moved to the center of the stage.
‘Gentlemen (there were no women among the bidders that evening), what you see before you will only ever be made available at Rough Goods. Yes, legally obtained with a COMPLETE waver of the mandatory three-month training period…just YESTERDAY this handsome buck was Dan Conroy freshly convicted of petty theft and failure to pay child support. Now, he is simply lot ‘seventy-eight’. Raw and unseasoned, he may be YOURS for the sport of thorough training!’ A few in the small crowd burst into applause as the auctioneer continued, ‘Release him from his shackles.’ A grinning assistant complied even as the handler with the live prod moved forward in order to ensure the angry buck remained on the block, ready to obey any and all commands.
Dan Conroy rubbed his chaffed wrists and glared at the gathered spectators. His deep chest heaved with pent up anxiety; every instinct crying out to either fight or bolt from the stifling room. The auctioneer tersely ordered his sweating merchandise to strip off his sagging trousers. Glancing briefly at the prod-wielding handler, Dan reluctantly complied. Now, acutely conscious of the fact that he only wore a jock strap, the new slave felt the heat of the glaring overhead lights on his naked skin and shook his blond head in stupefied confusion as the handler ordered him to slowly turn around…in order to afford the customers a complete view. Heaving a ragged sigh, Dan did as he was told then extended his arms, flexing on command, and assuming a variety of poses. Though properly obedient, it was clear to everyone that the freshly enslaved young miscreant was utterly unreconciled to his fate, seething with resentment at the unaccustomed shame.
‘Strip off your jock strap,’ the auctioneer barked and, addressing the bidders, added, ‘the buck’s a proven breeder and could easily double any investment by being put to stud.’ Temporarily lost to reason and overwhelmed by the prospect of deeper humiliation, Dan initially refused, muttering an emphatic ‘no fucking way’ even as the grim faced handler brushed his quivering flank with the prod. Dan’s yelp of very real pain elicited more applause as the auctioneer repeated his command, ‘Strip off the jockstrap, boy, and let the customers have a look at your equipment.’ Dan’s gray eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he slowly complied, blushing furiously under the overheads with legs duly spread and arms raised, hands clasped behind his head. He flinched as grinning assistants invited interested customers to come forward for a more intimate examination; stroking the well-defined muscles of his nude torso and, of course, hefting the stud’s hot testicles and thick penis. Dan groaned, swallowing fresh rage, as an electrified anal probe was inserted, quickly inducing an erection followed by a copious ejaculation. It was only then that the tears brimmed over previously glassy eyes, though he never lowered his arms to brush them away.
Frantic bidding then commenced and the buck that had been Dan Conroy went under the hammer; sold for a five figure sum to a wealthy rancher named Lem Hutchins. Lem owned a big spread in the eastern part of the state and worked his muscular herd of young slaves damn hard but he could also, nevertheless, appreciate the assets of a handsome young male and was already filled with any number of plans for his new boy. Hell, Lem thought as he signed the credit card receipt, I kind of like the name Dan, yeah, the boy can keep that…he licked his lips, training you is gonna be pure joy. How about we start first thing tomorrow? No…make that this evening.
(By Amalaric on Aquadude Bunker)