Matt and Finbar attract the attention of a dominating African owner and his son.

Duped - Part 9 (Page 1)
by Chrisus
Series: Duped
Art piece by Joji
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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."


1 Comment

  1. 31118azti - July 25, 2020, 9:39 am

    Most erotic, whew!

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