A Favour for a Friend

Part 1. James

"Can I ask a favour of you?" Steve rolled on his side and looked up at me. I leaned down to give him a lingering kiss. "Anything". "I'm serious". "So am I, but shouldn't we get you untied first?" His body was forced into a ball, hands between his legs and lashed to his ankles. He shook no and ambled closer to plant a kiss on my dripping cock. "Please!" "OK, but it'll cost you". "Anything". He grinned and got back on his knees, flaming red arse raised high. I laughed and aimed a light slap at his burning hide. "I don't think you can take much more, if you want to sit down for work tomorrow". The thirty evenly spaced welts left by the kiss of my crop were signal red and clearly raised. "You could whip my feet". "You hate that". "Yeah, but…". I shook my head and loosened the tight ropes. "Let's have a shower. You need one". Long streams of sperm stained his arse and the back of his thighs.

We'd known each other for almost three years and been lovers for the last two. Steve joined the company at about the time when I was sent to the main office as a special advisor on the development of a new product package. Two years younger than me, he was now twenty-two. A six feet four blond stud with a muscular, tanned body, who had all of the girls at the office grovelling at his feet. I'd been watching him at a distance, amused to see him trying to fight off the flirts and just thought him a shy college boy, until he got himself thoroughly drunk one night at a party and our project manager asked me to take care of him. He was still living with his parents, a sombre Presbyterian minister and his dour wife, who'd be very far from amused to see their eldest as he was at that time, so I took him to the small, but pleasant bungalow the company had provided for the duration of my assignment. He was barely conscious, but I managed to get him to the spare bedroom, undressed him and tucked him in, then went to bed in my own room. He was still sleeping soundly when I got up the next morning, a Saturday, and slept on while I went for my usual jogging tour around the neighbourhood, came back to shower and dress, and make breakfast. When it was on the table, I went in to shake him awake, with some difficulty, and offer him a large glass of milk.

Ten minutes later he joined me on the terrace, still damp from a shower and dressed in the pair of shorts and a t-shirt I'd left in his room. "Toast and jam, I think, or can you stomach a helping of bacon and eggs?" He shook no and sank down on a chair, looking sheepishly at me. "Thanks, James. I, eh, I guess I got bit too much last night". "The understatement of the year, my boy. Have a couple of aspirins and drink your tea". I nodded benevolently and returned to my newspaper. He downed the tablets with a glass of orange juice and reluctantly bit into his toast. "I've phoned your parents to tell them that we had to work most of the night to solve some problems about bugs and that you were still sleeping. They thanked me for taking care of you". I'd met them at a garden party a few months before and knew that they regarded me a very respectable and hard working young man. After all I come from a clerical family, even if it's High Church and my father is a bishop. "Thanks". Steve looked away. "And don't be ashamed. I've been in a worse state than you were last night, more than a few times".

After breakfast I encouraged him to join me in the pool and we spent a refreshing hour in the cool water, then reclined on sun-beds until lunch. His appetite had returned and we tucked into the food he'd helped me prepare. At last he sat back, downing the remainder of his coke and sent me a shy look. "I, eh, I don't know…". "Then don't". "Don't what?" "Thank me. There's no reason to do that. I'm happy to help a friend in need". "Yeah, guess you think me pretty stupid". "Not at all, Steve. I'm not your dad, and I'm just as young as you". "Yeah". He looked down at his bare feet. "Yeah, thanks, but that wasn't what I was trying to say". "No?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and took a sip of my wine. "No, I, eh, I…". He looked pleadingly at me. "You'll think me crazy, but… Will you give me a spanking?" "Will I what?" "Please, James! You know my parents. They're great, love their kids, but they're strict. Not demanding, but firm with us. We've learned how to behave and if not, well, they believe in corporal punishment". "Sure, nothing wrong with that. My father has striped my backside often enough, not to mention the teachers and prefects at my school". "Yeah, but…". He looked down again. "But you see, we, I've got so used to it that I need a spanking when I've done something wrong. It makes me feel better, stop brooding over my stupidity, get it over with". He gave me a pleading look. "Usually I tell my dad about it and he gives me what I deserve". "Even at your age?" I stared at him and he nodded. "Yeah, maybe it's crazy, but I really need it. The problem is that I can't go to him now, because of what you've told him, the two us working and such. He'd never understand that you lied for my sake". "Oh! It's my fault". "No, you did only what you thought best and that's fine, but…". "I've deprived you of what you need?" "Yeah".

I leaned back and took another sip, studying him. "I won't mind spanking you, not at all, but I'm not so sure that you'll like it". "Of course I won't like it, but…". "Need it, sure, but not from me". "Why not? You're my friend, you've just proved that". "I am, Steve, and I'm happy that you consider yourself mine, but what do you actually know about me?" "That you're a great guy, one of the best, as a friend and as a professional". "Thanks, but what you don't know is that I'm gay, and not only that, but a gay sadist". He stared. "I know nothing better than to strip a handsome stud like you naked, tie him up, whip his arse and then fuck him silly". His eyes widened and his lower jaw dropped almost to his chest. "So, no Steve, I don't think it a very good idea if I gave you a spanking". He looked away. "There you are, friend, the secret is out, so let's forget about this, shall we?" "Do you…have you spanked someone over here?" "No". Still averting his eyes he seemed to contemplate the news, then rose abruptly and went in. 'Shit! There goes that friendship', I thought gloomily and half rose to follow, but sank back. 'What's the use?' Thoughts about what would happen when he told about my fetish at the office flashed through my mind and I was pouring myself another glass of wine, when Steve reappeared. He'd shed his shirt and wordlessly dumped a leather belt and four lengths of clothesline in my lap, then turned to a sun-bed, hauled off his shorts and lay down on his stomach, spreading his arms and legs towards the four corners.

"Steve!". I put down the bottle. "Steve, don't!" He didn't answer and I took a sip before rising to stand beside his prone from, clutching the belt and ropes. "Do you honestly want this?" He nodded mutely. "You want me to tie you down and belt you?" He nodded again. "And fuck your arse?" A new nod. "Have you done this before?" He shook no. "It'll hurt, a lot". A nod. "Are you sure?" "Yes, James, I am". His voice didn't rise above a whisper. "OK, then, but if you tell me to stop, I will". He nodded again and I lashed his wrists and ankles to the legs of the bed, stretching him. "Last chance. Are you absolutely certain?" "Yes". I shook my head, but my cock was straining against the fabric of my jeans and I doubled the belt before aiming a hard stroke at the tempting white globes. A signal red stripe sprang up, but the bound boy neither moved, nor uttered a sound. I laid on another stripe, and another. After the tenth he began straining against his bonds and the seventeenth forced a grunt from him. I lowered the belt. "Enough?" He shook no and I resumed the slow lashing until my count reached twenty-five. Steve still hadn't cried out, but was breathing heavily and clearly raised welts covered his arse. "Hang tight". I dropped the belt and went in to undress. When I came back, my dick was waving stiffly, covered by a lubricated condom. He raised his head, staring at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Are you still sure?" "Yes". His head dropped back and he tried wriggling his red arse.

He took it well, moaning and grunting when I mauled his virgin hole, unable to restrain myself after more than a year of celibacy, but never uttered a word of protest. After I was done, I extricated myself with a soft plop and quickly untied his bonds. He stayed as he was, still spread-eagle, and I stood for a moment looking down at his tormented body, the ropes burns on his wrists and ankles and his slightly gaping hole, then went in to dispose of the filled condom and start the shower. I was soaking myself when he came in and wordlessly grabbed a bar of soap, dropped to his knees in front of me and began lathering up my crotch and flaccid cock. Finished, he planted a kiss on it and rose to embrace me. "Thanks, John".

That started of a new life for both of us. We rested in mutual silence, naked on the beds in the sun, until Steve after a couple of hours knelt beside me and grabbed my cock to stroke it hard again, then took it in his mouth and, clumsily at first, but with growing confidence blew me to a shuddering climax, swallowing every drop. We made quiet love once more before he went home, only to come back the next day, now ready to talk about the experience. He admitted that he'd been wondering about his sexual preferences for a long time, had tried courting some girls, but never went further than a few kisses and a bit of petting. Spanking had aroused him, even before he knew what was happening. Luckily his father had always spanked his kids on top of their briefs and nowadays he kept his jeans on to hide his erection until it was over and he could get away to masturbate in his room. Other boys attracted him, but his upbringing and natural shyness had never allowed him to admit it, even to himself. Until now. It was as if he couldn't get enough, wanted to catch up with the years he'd wasted. I fucked him, he sucked me off, begged me to tie him up, to punish him. He bought a riding crop and demanded that I whipped his arse, his back, his thighs, the soles of his feet, anything to help him discover what he really liked. I was in heaven, but knew it couldn't last. Steve didn't, couldn't realise, but I was sure that he wasn't truly gay, perhaps bisexual, and that what we did would help him overcome his shyness. Some lucky girl would catch him one day and hopefully understand that he was a natural submissive, not a slaveboy type, but in need of some rough handling in bed.

We were already working close on the project and the manager suggested that we did it at my house to avoid the constant disturbances at the office. So we spent almost every day together and often the nights as well. His parents not only approved, but thanked me for my good influence on their son and from time to time invited me to spend an evening at their house. Steve's younger sister was away at college, but his seventeen year old brother, Nick, was at his last year in high school. Almost as tall as his brother and just as handsome, he was much more easygoing and obviously very popular, always hanging out with friends and girlfriends, on the sports grounds, driving around, at parties. According to Steve, he was allowed much more freedom than his older siblings and punished much less than they, but still got a spanking every now and then. I didn't see much of him, but liked what I saw. The evenings at the reverend household were not exactly exiting, but pleasant enough, with good dinners and quiet conversation. Like most people they kept slaves, two rather plain maids and a gardener/chauffeur in his thirties.

I'd been offered a couple to keep house for me, but begged off. Enslavement is not used as a punishment in my country and I felt uneasy about handling slaves. A service company took care of my house and garden, of course using slave labour, but I didn't have anything to do with them. A van drove up every morning at about ten and an overseer came in to ask if I wanted some special service and estimate the routine jobs for that day. Sometimes I asked for lunch, but I like cooking and usually managed on my own. He fetched two or three teenage girls and boys, gave them their orders and left to come back in the middle of the afternoon to bring them away again. They went quietly around, careful not to disturb me, working quickly and efficiently. I hardly ever spoke to them and if they talked among themselves it was in a whisper. Both girls and boys were dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt, their bare feet hobbled by a two foot steel chain and a steel collar locked around their necks. Steve told me that they probably were ordinary high school kids with minimum sentences, five years, for smaller crimes, and likely happy to have been bought by a service company. They worked hard, but with regular hours, and were treated well, housed in dorms and allowed TV and other entertainment after work. First of all they were not subjected to a private owner's whims, especially not his or hers sexual demands.

That was more or less my experience with slaves. Of course I'd seen them around, running errands, walking two steps behind their owners, washing cars or gardening in the neighbourhood, or in public service, sweeping roads, working the parks, but never been in closer contact with any of their kind, and certainly never even thought about acquiring one. And now Steve asked me to do exactly that. "You what?" I looked incredulously at him. "You can't be serious!" "I am, very serious". I shook my head. "I can't do that, Steve". "Why not?" "Firstly because I don't want slaves. I don't approve of the system, as you very well know. Secondly because I'm off from here in less than a month, as you very well know as well, and back home we don't have slaves. And thirdly, and most important, I don't want to lose your friendship". "You wouldn't". "Don't give me that crap, Steve. If I had a slaveboy, I'd use him, just as I use you". "Of course". "Steve! I'm a sadistic faggot and you a masochist, perfect for both of us, because we like what we're doing and we do it because we like it, but Nick's not like you. He won't like it one little bit". "Of course he won't and he's not supposed to. He's serving a sentence, not on holiday". "You approve of that?" "Basically, yes. The slave system is a good thing. It has brought the crime rate down, taught foolish youths to behave".

Disaster had struck his family. Nick as usual were out on a Friday night, partying. Normally he never touched alcohol, his parents were teetotallers, and swore that someone had spiced his cokes when stopped by the police and tested over the limit, and what was worse, drugs were found in his car. Just a couple of reefers, but enough to land him and the two friends, a girl and another boy, he was taking home, with enslavement sentences. The other two got ten years for possession of drugs, he an extra five for drunken driving. They were just now up at the slave processing centre for the initial three months training. His parents refused to see him, had openly washed their hands of him and would never do anything to help him, had that been possible, slaves couldn't be bought by members of their family. Only Steve had tried to support the boy and been with him at the trial, but could of course do nothing with the apparently clear-cut case.

"James, please! I am serious. It's bad enough for Nick as it is, but I'm afraid that it'll be worse, much, much worse, unless you're willing to help". "Why?" "I've always thought that there was something fishy going on. Nick's a good boy and I don't believe for a second that he knew about the booze. OK, he has tried it, actually with me, but he'd never behave so stupidly and never, ever come near any sort of drugs, nor keep friends who did". "But…". "Sure, he was drunk and there were drugs in his car, but I'm sure it was a hoax, a trap". "A trap, but why?" "You know how popular he is, all the girls at his school are dying to make him date them, not least because he really is a nice guy, who'd never try to go to far with them. That makes some of the other boys envious and some girls too. I've been asking around and this is what I think happened. There's one girl in particular, very pretty and out of a wealthy family, but a nasty type. She's been chasing Nick for a long time, but he didn't want anything to do with her. Other boys are not so particular and she has a gang of followers, mostly blockhead football types. They were at the party and I'm sure that they set a trap for Nick". "Nasty". "Very and I believe it's even worse. This girl's been bragging how she's going to buy Nick and the girl who was with him that night, and make life hell for them. Please, John, please buy my brother. Please save him!" "But he'll be a slave whatever happens. It can't be much worse than that". "Yes it can. You've only seen how we treat our slaves at home, and the company slaves, and that's not too bad, they are after all convicted felons, but an owner can do almost anything to his slaves, short of actually killing or maiming them seriously, and some of them are real sadists. If Nick's delivered into the hands of that bitch, she'll break him. After fifteen years he'll be reduced to nothing more than a slave for the rest of his life, no education, no skills, no initiative, unable to manage anything but the most menial jobs". "And if I bought him?" "As his master you'd be bound by law to treat him as the slave he is". "So what's the difference?" "That even if you will be strict, you won't hate him and won't be unnecessarily cruel".

I leaned back and closed my eyes. 'What a predicament! Of course I'd to help Steve and his brother, but buying a slave!' "I can't, I'm going home within a month and I can't bring a slave with me". "Yes you can. I've asked the court about it and it's been done before, not often, but a slave owner can take his property with him, even to countries where slavery is unknown. All slaves have an implant which shows exactly where they are anywhere in the world, and another which can kill them if necessary. If a slave runs away and can't be caught again, he'll be destroyed". "You've been planning this for some time, haven't you?" "Please, John, please don't be angry. I…". "I'll never be angry with you, but I wasn't expecting this. How do I actually buy a slave?" "At public auction. There's one every Monday. Nick's up for sale at the next". "That's in three days!" "Yes". "Yoy leave me very little time to decide". The tall boy dropped to his knees in front of me. "If you buy him, you'll get two slaves for the price of one". "Are you offering yourself as a slave?" "I am". I caught his face between my hands and gave him a kiss. "No way, buddy. You're my friend and I, we like it when you're tied up and get some stripes, but my slave, never!" He looked pleadingly at me. "Never, I said! What do I have to do to become a slave owner?"

We spent most of the weekend discussing what to do and how to do it. I had my credentials and financial status vetted and was registered at the slave court, where it was confirmed that I could bring any slaves, I might buy, out of the country, provided that I could be trusted to treat them according to the law. I had no trouble raising the necessary funds to buy a slave, or even three or four. My favourite aunt had died the previous year and left me her house as well as a quite substantial fortune. Steve went through slave manuals and the few rules for owners with me. Basically I could do what I liked, as long as I made sure that their sentences were carried out, that they were treated as slaves, worked hard and punished for even the smallest infractions. I can't deny that I began feeling confident about my future role, even looking forward to it. I made him tell me in detail about the incident which had enslaved his brother, including the names of the girl and the other boy.

On Monday morning Steve drove me to the auction house while giving me the last instructions about the procedures. We arrived just as an open sports car drove up and a blonde girl and two broad shouldered teenage boys got out. "That's her, the bitch". Steve ducked behind the wheel. "OK, stay here and wait for me". I jumped out and followed them to a reception hall. "Thank you, Sir". One of the girls behind the counter accepted my ID and looked at her screen. "I hope you'll find what you're looking for, Sir. Male or female?" "I haven't decided yet". "Please find today's offers over there, Sir". She indicated three doors. "Males to the right, females to the left. Auction room in the middle. Selling starts in one hour, males first". She handed me a glossy catalogue and I took a step back, scanning it idly. The blonde was talking to another receptionist. "No. 63, how much do you think he'll cost?" "Male, 17, new, 15 years, no special skills. $1.000 per year I'd think, $20.000 at most, but probably less". "And no. 124?" "Ah, let me see". The receptionist looked at her screen. "Female, 17, new, 10 years, no special skills. About $30.000 I shouldn't wonder". "That much!" "Well, she's rather pretty". "You think so? OK, thanks". The girl turned to her companions. "Shit! My dad wouldn't let me spend more than 30 grand". "Maybe Nick won't fetch more than 10 and you might get Christine for 20". "Yeah. Lucky that it's males first. At least I'm sure to get that arsehole. Let's inspect the merchandise". They went laughing towards the door to the right.

'We'll see about that, won't we, bitch?', I thought and followed them. I knew from the catalogue that there were 73 boys on offer that day. They were lined up along the middle of the long room, back to back on little podiums, arms raised over their heads, cuffed hands clipped to chains hanging from the ceiling and right ankles chained to the podium. They were of course completely naked. The hair on their heads was cropped to mere stubble and their pubes clean-shaven. A number of prospective buyers were strolling along the rows, flicking through their catalogues and stopping every now and then to inspect a boy more closely. Muscles were felt, cocks stroked, and balls hefted. I went along the lower numbers while the girl and her cronies headed down the other side. "Hi, Nick, how's things?" Looking between the naked bodies I saw her leering at a boy who had his back to me. "Enjoyed your training?" He didn't answer and she took a step forward to grab his scrotum. "Hope you did, slaveboy, because you won't have much fun for the next fifteen years, but, boy, you bet I will". I heard him whimper when she apparently squeezed his balls. "I'm buying you, loser, and believe me, you'll not enjoy being my slave". She let go and stepped back. "I'll make your life one long torment. You'll serve me on your knees all day long, you'll lick my feet, you'll be my footstool, you'll lick me clean when one of my lovers has fucked me, and him too. I'll whip you every day. I'll make you wear clamps on your nipples and on your cock. You'll be the most lousy, humiliated, dirty, snivelling slaveboy in this country. And you know what? I'll buy that snotty bitch, Christine, as well. God, how I'm looking forward to seeing you two crawling on the floor, to hear you scream when you whip each other, to watch you raping her dirty arsehole and she sucking her own shit off your dick after you've been up her, without coming, of course. I've bought a dildo for you, pretty boy, big, big one, and I'll make her fuck you too. Fifteen years! Just imagine what I can do to you for fifteen years, and then imagine the life you could have had if you'd had the brains not to piss me off". She laughed nastily. "Just one hour and you'll be mine!" She sent him a last venomous glance before turning on her heel to walk away.

I heard him sobbing quietly when I went back up the row to stop in front of No. 24. Pete, the third party at the fateful car ride. Not as tall as Nick or Steve, but with a muscular black swimmer's body and a very long cock hanging over a heavy sack. He looked calmly at me when I touched his broad chest, reached for his ballsack and let my hand slide down his sturdy leg, but of course didn't say anything. 'Already well trained', I thought and nodded amiably to him. His face split in an enchanting grin and he actually winked at me. I nodded again and went round to the other side to reach Nick, who'd composed himself a bit, but was still looking thoroughly dejected. "Hi!" He raised his head and recognised me. "Cheer up! She won't get you. I will". His eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Promise". I sent him a smile and sauntered towards the exit, but turned back for moment. "Christine too". In the next room 51 naked girls were chained up like the boys. A pretty spectacle, if that's what you prefer, and the throng of men and boys pawing them proved that I'm part of a minority. No. 124 was crying silently, obviously after a visit from the little bitch. A brunette, the slavegirls had been allowed to keep most of their hair, but her sex was of course clean-shaven. Medium height, smallish, but well shaped breasts, adorned with large brown nipples. I was looking her over when a grotesquely fat man in his late forties waddled up to pinch her nipples and part her pink cunt lips. He checked his catalogue and worked a finger up her tunnel. "Hmm, it's true. A virgin".

Turning away in disgust I left in search of something to calm my rising fury. 'What sort of people tolerate that kind of treatment of a bunch of teenagers, even if they did commit petty crime!' I went out to the bar and ordered a beer from the barefoot young girl. Other people were leaving the display rooms to have a refreshment or to go directly to the auction room. Two men, whose uniforms showed that they were employed by the service-company, I used, sat down at the next table, ordering coffee and comparing notes. A bell sounded just as I was draining my glass and everybody moved towards the open door to the auction room. I saw the bitch and her companions rise and followed slowly to find a seat. An attendant checked my ID at the entrance, punched a number into a sort of remote control and handed it to me with a smile. The room was filled to the brim, all of the about three hundred chairs arranged in a semicircle were occupied by prospective buyers and, I suppose, a fair number of spectators. A group of high school kids, accompanied by their teacher, was seated at the back and I sat down beside her. "Gee, Miss Jones! It's so exciting". The girl on her other side could hardly contain herself. "Not for the slaves, Julie, so remember…". "Yeah, yeah, it could be me, but I never do anything wrong". "I hope not". "Never! I wouldn't risk ending up as slave of some dirty old man" "It's not always that bad". The boy on her other side leaned forward. "We treat our slaves well and so does your family". "Yeah, but they're whipped and always working so hard, never have any fun at all. And I wouldn't want to end up sucking your dick, Freddy, like that poor slavegirl of yours, what's her name?" "Pam, and it's just her duty. You're envious because your mum won't let you use that boy of hers". "Hush!" The teacher cut short their quarrel and they turned towards the stage, where the first of that day's offers was brought in.

The boy was still naked, now with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles hobbled. A guard made him walk around the stage, then led him to the centre to have him stand stiffly at attention, head held high and legs spread. His eyes were fixed at a point over the heads of the audience and he was nervously biting his lower lip. A screen lit up to show his name, age, height and weight. He was sentenced to five years of slavery for attempting to steal a CD, had just finished high school and was without special skills. The auctioneer switched on his microphone. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Bidding for item no. 1 starts at $1.000". The amount flashed on the screen, but was soon replaced by $1.500. No. 266 flashed beside it. I looked at my remote and saw that my own number was 287. The screen flashed again and again, the amount rising with $200 or $300 until it reached $4.300, then stopped. The auctioneer looked at his own screen, searched the audience for signs of further bidding and announced: "Sold for $4.300 to No. 6". I saw one of the men from the service-company make a note in his catalogue, while the boy was led away and another put on display. The auction went on, quickly and smoothly, with brisk bidding. As the girl at reception had predicted, most of the boys fetched about $1.000 per year of slavery, although those with special skills could go higher. A college boy of nineteen, who was well into a degree in computer studies, went for $20.000, even if his slavery was for only six years. Most of them were newly enslaved, but some were being resold and they often went for higher amounts, probably because they were well trained. A couple of particularly handsome studs went even higher, $24.000 and $32.000, with sentences of just five years. A rather flashily dressed man in his thirties two rows in front of me nodded satisfied to himself when the first of them was sold. 'Good luck, kid. He doesn't look that nasty', I thought. After the sale of the second, a teenage girl in the front row jumped up. "Got you, Jimmy!" He smiled broadly and blew her a kiss before being led away. "Argh, that slut! He's been doing her since seventh grade, but her dad's always spoiling her", the girl on the other side of the teacher hissed.

When No. 24 was led on stage his eyes quickly roamed the audience, locking with mine for a second, before settling on a spot over my head. The bidding rose to $9.300, then stopped and the auctioneer was opening his mouth when I pressed a button and flashed $9.400 to the screen, was bid over with $200, thought, 'What the hell!' and flashed $10.500. That stopped the bidding and the auctioneer announced that Pete was sold to No. 287. I'd bought my first slave. He glanced briefly at me, but I kept my face expressionless. The auction went on and I lost interest until No. 63 was brought forward. The bitch girl was in the front row and I saw her nudging her companions. Bidding started at $2.000 and rose slowly to $7.200. The girl fumbled with her remote and the price went up to $7.500. 'Impatient, are we?' I thought and bid $10.000. She raised me with $500 and I bid $15.000. The boy on her left rose to let his eyes roam the audience, but I slumped in my seat, looking bored. The auctioneer seemed ready to close the sale and the girl pressed the buttons frantically. $16.000. I yawned and changed it to $20.000. She hissed something to the other boy and bid $21.000. 'Lost your slavegirl, did you?' The auctioneer made ready to close the sale once again and the girl leaned back, apparently sighing with relief when I bid $31.000. "No!" She jumped up and stamped her foot. "No!" "Sold to No. 287 for $31.000". The auctioneer gestured to have Nick brought off. "No, no! He's mine". The girl was frantic. "Do you have No. 287, young lady?" The auctioneer looked questioningly at her. "No, but it must be a mistake!" "I don't think so". "Yes, it must. That wretched slave isn't worth $31.000!" "He is to one of our customers". "No!" She was stamping her foot again. "Will you please sit down, young lady, or leave the room". "No! I demand a new auction". The screen had gone blank and I pressed my remote again. $31.000. "No. 287 has just confirmed the bid. Sit down and keep quiet, right now, or I'll have you removed". "I bid $35.000!" "Too late". "No!" I chuckled inwardly and the screen flashed $40.000. "I don't think you can outbid the other customer, young lady, and the price stands at $31.000". The guard led Nick away and the bitch sank down on her chair, sobbing loudly. One of the boys was still staring angrily, trying to determine who No. 287 could be, while the other whispered to her. I stayed for the next three sales, then left for the bar.

Fifteen minutes later the audience began to leave, apparently for a pause before the sale of female slaves. The girl pushed her way through the throng of people, her face a mask of fury, with the two boys one step behind her. They chose the table next to mine. "I can't believe it!", she hissed, "What''s going on?" "Maybe it's one of his friends?" "None of them have that kind of money. $40.000!" "I'll find out". One of the boys went to the reception counter, but the girl there just shook her head at his question. "Not allowed to tell". He came back. "At least you can buy Christine. Just think of what you can do to her, or let us do to her". The other boy leered at his friend. "No". "Why not? We'll make sure that Nick learns about it. That'll make him just as miserable to imagine his girlfriend whipped and arsefucked every day". "Yeah, and we can look out for him, every time he leaves his master's house. You can do a lot to a slave, if you meet him in the street. Trip him, accuse him of touching you, stamp on his toes, kick his arse". "Not the same, but OK". The girl's face turned grim. "OK, I'll buy Christine".

The audience trickled back to the auction, but I remained where I was for another half hour, then returned to my seat just as No. 119, a strikingly beautiful, long legged blonde was brought on stage. The bidding for her was fierce, jumping quickly from $10.000 to $50.000 and finally settling at $64.000, when a man in his late fifties raised his arms in triumph. 'Take care that you don't overdo it, grandpa', I thought, 'And end up with a coronary'. The sale of the next three girls disgusted me, all of them going to men well past middle age and unable to conceal their glee, so when No. 124 was led in, I rose and sauntered towards the exit, making the screen flash with $35.000 on the way. "No, no, no!" The bitch screamed again and I half turned in the door to see the screen showing $40.000. 'You don't have that much, girlie', I thought and changed it to $50.000. "Sold to No. 287", I heard on my way out. Stopping at reception I handed in my remote, signed the printout of my purchases and gave a few instructions about my new slaves. "Certainly, Sir. They'll be delivered the day after tomorrow, just after lunch". I nodded amiably and went out to find Steve.

He was on the verge of tears when told about the events about the auction and repeatedly stammered his thanks and promises to stay my slave forever. "Will you stop that, Steve and take me home. I may have done you a small favour, but given myself a much greater gift. Two delicious boys at my mercy!" He grinned and composed himself. "Three, I hope". I grinned back and he drove past the entrance of the auction house just as the three disappointed teenagers came out. One of the boys caught sight of us and grabbed his fellow's arm, pointing. They ran towards their car and I asked Steve to go slow until I spotted them two cars behind us, then to take a roundabout route home, while I made a call on my mobile. Back at my house, I told him to drive off at once and come back two hours later. The open car was parked a few hundred yards down the road when I went in and through the house to greet the guests who were waiting for me on the garden side.

"Hey, you!" I was relaxing in a deck chair on the terrace with a drink when five boys came around the corner. "What are you doing here?" I half rose from my chair, looking angered and frightened, but was pushed back. "Coming to claim what's mine". The girl appeared behind her burly friends. "Yours? I have nothing of yours". "Yes you have, but not for long, Mr. 287. I want the slaves you just bought". "You what?" "I'll even pay you for them, $25.000". "But I bought them for more than $90.000, and I won't sell them". "So you'll lose a lot of money, tough luck". "No I won't!" "Yes you will, shithead!" One of the boys grabbed my shirt to haul me out of the chair. "Or we'll beat the shit out of you!" "But that's assault!" "Yeah, tough, what's you gonna do about it?" "You can't do this?" "Why not? Five big boys against one wimp? No sweat". "And a tough girl to kick his balls". The bitch spat at my feet. "Either you write those slaves over to me or you'll be very, very sorry". "I'll
tell the police": "Tell what? You don't know us, and we don't know you. No one will believe you". "Oh yes, they will, but won't have to. You're under arrest for blackmail and attempted assault". The town's chief of police emerged from the door to the terrace and two of his men came round the other corner, guns drawn.

"Thank you, chief". I handed him a drink and sat down beside him. The now hysterically weeping girl and her five frightened and subdued cronies had been handcuffed and led away. "Not at all, we've been watching that gang for a long time, but until now never been able to catch them doing something seriously wrong. This'll earn them at least ten years each, maybe fifteen". I'd met him at a garden party and when told about the trouble he had with a new computer system, offered to take a look and was able to solve the problems. So when I phoned to ask for his help without further explanations, he was more than willing to come at once. "Slavery sentences?" "Of course". "Serve them damn right!" I toasted him and told of Steve's suspicions about the trap they might have set for his brother. "Shouldn't surprise me if it's true, but we'll wring it out of them". He left before Steve came back, excited and grateful. He'd told his parents that I'd bought Nick. They were still very disappointed and angry about his 'crime' and didn't want to see him, but nevertheless relieved that he'd passed into the hands of a man they knew and respected. His father 'hoped that I could bring the errant boy back to the straight and narrow track'. 'Some chance', I thought, 'But perhaps I can make a normal boy out of him, what I consider normal, that is'. Steve begged me to allow him to show his gratitude and fetched the crop, offering it to me on his knees, but I refused. "I'll have two delicious boy to play with tomorrow and don't want you to exhaust me". He looked crestfallen and I knelt beside him for a deep kiss. We made quiet love and spent the rest of the day discussing how to treat my three slaves. Steve reluctantly agreed that we stopped our love games until the three teens had come to terms with their new life. It would be too much for them, even if Steve suspected that Nick wasn't completely unaware of our relationship.

The chief phoned next morning, asking me to come down the slave court as soon as possible. Three of the boys had soon told that the girl and her closest buddies had spiced Nick's drink as part of the now failed plot. The boys had confessed to a judge, but stubbornly denied any knowledge about the drugs found in Nick's car. The bitch's wealthy father and his lawyers tried pleading that the poor innocent girl had been coaxed into her crimes by the boys, but all five of them protested that it was the other way around. She'd already been sentenced to twenty years of slavery, two of the boys to fifteen and the remaining three to ten years. Justice was swift in juvenile cases and they were off to the training facility in preparation for their sale in three months time. The girl would be sold in another town, not disclosed to her parents, to prevent that they made their friends buy her. Released at the age of thirty-eight after twenty years of hard labour and sexual abuse, there would be little left of her, even if she returned to a life in wealth.

The judge received me in his private chambers. He'd changed the previous sentences of Nick, Christine and Pete, to seven and five years of enslavement. I expressed my surprise that they were not set free, now it had been revealed that the whole thing was a hoax, but he explained that Nick had still been over the limit when driving home that night. Admittedly he'd been trapped, but should have known better than to take his car and there was the question of drugs as well. They were most likely planted, but it couldn't be proved and the law had to be upheld. The judge had actually reduced the sentences to an absolute minimum. In such cases the slaves would normally go for a new auction, but because of my services to society he had decided to reimburse my money and offer me the three of them for free.