Date: Sun, 1 Apr 2018 01:56:36 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo.com>
Subject: WILD PUPS SALE, part 1-2

WILD PUPS SALE
1. WALLY:
HOW FREE BOYS GET INDENTURED

By Master Redbeard
for comments or compliments
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at y a h o o
dot com


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This is an adult erotic gay slave fiction story. If such stories offend
you, or if it is illegal to read such stories where you're located or
because of your age, please go away now. If you can't tell the difference
between fantasy and reality, go away quickly and get help. The story is set
in a society where good looking young men can be bought, sold or leased as
slaves -- generally used for sex by powerful men.

It's been a while since I wrote a story set in an auction house, and I
wanted to explore the eroticism of straight free boys being stripped,
prepped and publicly displayed for sale. In this story, three graduating
high school seniors, all 18, are enslaved for playing a stupid (and
destructive) prank. Their indenture is perfectly timed so they can be sold
as part of Gaytown Slave Hall's WILD PUPS SALE, where newly-indentured,
untrained free teens are displayed for sale in their free-boy underpants.

# # #

WALLY:

I caught site of myself in one of the many mirrors that surrounded our
display. Twenty-four hours earlier I had taken this pair of white briefs
from a drawer and pulled them up my legs, dressing to go to school. Now I
was stripped to these same tighty whities, with the addition of a platinum
slave collar that glinted in the light, cuffs that held my hands securely
behind my back and attached to my collar with a thin chain, and a short
chain that held my right ankle to the display platform.

Of course the three of us were displayed right in the front window of the
Gaytown Slave Hall -- myself and the two other high school jocks that were
arrested the day before for our stupid prank. I could read the sign painted
backwards on the window: "WILD PUPS SALE: Straight Teens in Their Free Boy
Underpants."

Everyone knew that slogan -- I'd seen it in online ads and heard it on
audio ads all my life. Even people who had never been to Gaytown knew about
Wild Pup Days, when they specialize in properties that are recently
indentured, untrained, and oftentimes not even shaved or prepped -- what
some called "buying the boy raw," and others considered the closest a
master could get to legally humiliating and sodomizing a straight teenage
boy. And everyone knew these sales took place on the last Saturday of the
month. There were true stories of parents who surprised their sons with
indentures the last week of the month, so the boys would qualify as Wild
Pups.

But in our business class we heard that attendance at Wild Pup Sales had
dropped off. The merchandise was often poor quality, and either came from
families that needed money so bad they were willing to sell their
18-year-old sons, or teen boys who'd gotten in trouble with the law. Either
way, many of the lads had bad teeth, splotchy skin, lousy diets, and
weren't very bright. These boys would be sold to industrial farms or
factories as part of work gangs.

This guy from school that we all called Lumpy has a dad who works as a
slave trader. Lumpy is an overweight clown, but he was the school authority
on slaves. He said that his dad rarely bothered going to Wild Pup Sales
anymore. Out of 60 or 80 boys on display, there might be just a handful
that had potential -- or as Lumpy's dad put it, "boys who could clean up
nice." We all knew that Lumpy's dad was the local scout for a chain of boy
brothels, but while the chubby boy bragged about it, the subject
embarrassed me. I turned down Lumpy's offers to visit the Wild Pup sale
with him and his father.

The image I saw of myself in the mirror the morning of the sale looked like
a high-end slaveboy: firm, hairless body, collared and helpless, and
stripped down to an embarrassingly tight pair of white briefs (dammit, all
my boxers had been in the laundry the day before). My dick was sticking up
fully stiff, peeking out over the waistband of my underpants, because of
the prostate stimulator that had been placed up my butt a little
earlier. But in my head I still thought of myself as the free boy I had
been on Friday.

Russell, the big beefy football player, was collared and chained to my
right, wearing just a tight pair of plaid boxer shorts, his fat cock
sticking up out of one of the legs. Cody, to my left, was dressed in a pair
of Spiderman briefs, which was a scam on the part of the auction
house. When the three of us had been stripped the day before, Cody was
wearing a pair of red boxerbriefs. I suppose someone in the auction house
decided that the 5'4" gymnast would appeal to a select audience dressed in
cartoon undies. His boner showed as a tent in the tight briefs, not nearly
as big as mine.

It was Russell who came up with the idea for the prank. I never would've
been involved, except Coach Bob had asked me to "keep an eye on Russell and
keep him out of trouble." Everyone agreed that the impressively-built blond
youth could have a great athletic career ahead of him, except he had no
common sense. Coach once commented, "that boy played too much football
without a helmet."

Russell and I hung out with the jocks at school. Although Cody was a top
gymnast who'd won competitions, the petite boy was rarely included with our
crowd. When he overheard Russell's idea, he jumped in to help. It turned
out that Cody had access to as many firecrackers as we could want. As soon
as the short boy made that offer, I saw the football player's eyes light
up. I cautioned, "Well, we don't need that many firecrackers." But Russell
out-shouted me with, "The more the merrier."

The lockers were metal. We didn't realize how quickly the fire would spread
along the dry wood that framed the lockers.  And we never imagined the fire
would spread so quickly to the back-up box of fireworks we had placed right
outside Coach Bob's door. When we were called into the principal's office
and confessed our stupid prank, none of us knew that Coach Bob had lost a
hand in one of the explosions. We didn't know how serious matters were
until the principal walked the three of us into the gymnasium where the
slave police were waiting.

All of the boys in the school had been gathered onto the bleachers. As I
took in the scene, one of the burly slave cops grabbed my hands behind my
back. He whispered in my ear, "Easy boy. Don't give me a reason to use the
slave prod you." The two other school jocks were each being held by their
own slave cop, and I'm guessing each of the black-uniformed officers had
whispered the same thing. Russell tried to pull away and jab his slave cop
with an elbow. An instant later the big football player was twitching on
the ground from the electrified slave prod. He was pulled back up roughly
as the large roomful of high school boys muttered and clapped
appreciatively. Teenage boys always enjoy seeing slaves abused, maybe more
so when the slaves are former classmates.

The principal stepped forward and spoke in his blunt style, "We didn't
arrange this for your entertainment, boys. This is a lesson to you. I see
before me three young men who had bright futures, great athletes all
heading to college. But in the next hour or so they will be in slave
court. I know enough about civics to know that when they leave that court
they will no longer be young men with bright futures. They will be
slaveboys."

He paused and looked us over. "These boys will be presented in court fully
clothed and then stripped by the court. But most of you know it's
traditional for the slave police to strip the newly indentured boy and take
him out to their truck naked." He nodded his head to the black-uniformed
thugs who pulled our clothes off, careful not to rip any. Ritual would
require us to re-dress in order to be stripped again in court.

We were each fitted with a temporary slave collar, big and heavy, our hands
pulled up and cuffed to the D-rings on the sides of these collars. The
three of us were paraded around the large gymnasium on leashes, each
followed by another slave cop who slapped our butts with a short tawse. I
saw my very fat English teacher staring at me and licking his lips. I
noticed his hand in his pocket fondling his erection. He was standing
beside a group of boys who were openly gay -- I remembered teasing and
bullying some of them. I heard a screeching voice loudly exclaim, "Wally's
ass is even cuter naked," followed by raucous giggling.

Cody was marched behind me and I heard some of the 9th grade boys laughing,
"Even my pecker is bigger than his. Plus I got lots more hair. When they
shave his bush, he'll look like he belongs back in 7th grade." I heard Cody
sniffle. Dammit, that boy would have to toughen up if he was gonna be a
slaveboy. We would all have to toughen up.

The three of us were fitted with blinders so we couldn't see to either
side, and we were marched naked and shackled out to the black Slave Police
truck. There were people lining the walkway, but I couldn't turn my head
left or right. Then I heard my father's distinctive voice shout, "Oh my
god! Wally!" I just wanted to disappear into the sidewalk.

# # #

2. WALLY: STRIPPED IN SLAVE COURT

The three of us were taken to a small cell in the sub-basement of the
courthouse. Our clothes were returned to us, though there was barely enough
room for us to dress in the tiny space. Once we were fully dressed, we were
marched out of the cell and our hands were, once again, cuffed to the
D-rings on our temporary slave collars.

After being marched up flights of stone steps, we were brought into a
mahogany-lined courtroom and stood facing the judge's bench. I had only
been in slave court once before, and that was on a field trip with my
Understanding Modern Indenture class. Although the rules said you were
supposed to be 18 to observe slave court proceedings, they allowed younger
boys in if they were accompanied by their fathers, or for an educational
field trip like I had taken. Like a typical teenage boy I had delighted in
the sight of boys just a few years older than myself being stripped and
humiliated. But now I was one of the boys standing in the dock.

I was immediately aware of how crowded the courtroom was. Clearly, the news
of the three high school jocks being sent to slave court had gotten around
town quickly. I wore faded blue jeans and a button-down striped
shirt. Russell wore a tanktop and baggy black basketball shorts that came
down to his knees. And Cody was in chinos with a black t-shirt. We all kept
our heads down as the judge read off charges and looked over testimony.

The judge raised his gavel and looked at us as he said, "Before I pass
sentence, do you three boys have anything to say on your behalf?"

Before I had a chance to speak, Russell loudly proclaimed, "Look, I'm no
good at science. Wally is the one who told us how much fireworks to
use. Also, Cody is the one who got us all those fireworks. But because I
didn't know...."

The judge banged his gavel and said, "That will be enough of that. I'm sure
that being tall and good looking and a great athlete meant you could get
away with all sorts of bullshit as a free boy. For the sake of the skin on
your back, I hope you get a master who can teach you quickly and firmly."

I glared at Russell. I was the one who tried to get him to use fewer
fireworks. The big football playing brute was being a weasel. But I just
took a deep breath and said, "Your honor, what we did was a stupid
prank. We were full of ourselves being high school seniors. None of us
wanted real harm to anyone or anything. We sincerely apologize and ask that
you not let this one dumb teenage action ruin our entire lives."

I turned to Cody, but he was crying too hard to speak. The judge hit his
gavel again and said, "The middle one has a good mouth on him. I'm sure it
will be put to a lot of use soon enough." There was laughter from the
crowd. They all understood the sexual undertones. "And I agree there's no
benefit to society of having all three of these young lives ruined
forever. Therefore, I sentence each of these boys to a term of five years'
indenture."

This time when he banged his gavel, the three of us were turned to face the
crowd. As bad as it had been getting stripped in front of all our
classmates, this was much more menacing. I recognized some boys from school
in the large room, the younger ones accompanied by their fathers. But there
were other older men there as well, men who looked rough and nasty -- the
kinds of looks you associate with slave traders and brothel keepers.

Our hands were uncuffed from our collars, but we were each flanked by two
big burly slave cops. The one to my left held an electrified slave prod,
while the other one held a short tawse. Behind us the judge intoned, "This
is your first order as slaves. I am ordering you to strip down naked and
display yourself to this court. As new slaves, I advise you to cooperate
and make this process easier. If you do not cooperate and if you do
anything to make this process more difficult, you will get your first
lessons in obedience."

I began unbuttoning my shirt and I could see beside me each of my
classmates stripping to the waist. I noticed the gallery of men sitting
nearby to our left. When our Understanding Modern Indenture class had
visited the courthouse, we were told that the Gaytown Civic Association
permanently reserved this gallery. Dropping my shirt, I quickly glanced in
that direction and saw some of their arms moving up and down. Homosexuals
older than my own father were masturbating as they watched me unzip my
jeans. The guard with the tawse slapped it once over my shoulders and
snapped, "Eyes forward." I felt the sting.

I bent down to peel off my white briefs. When I stood back up again,
knowing my exposed penis was fully displayed for everyone in the big
mahogany-lined room, I must have blushed all over. I tried to cover myself,
but my hands were quickly cuffed to the D-rings on the thick temporary
slave collar.

The judge announced that the court would now collect sperm samples from
each of the new slaveboys. These would be analyzed to determine our
breeding potential, and would be stored for the future, "In case any of
these boys is gelded by his owner." Someone whispered something to the
judge who quickly added, "Oh, yes, of course there's no gelding or
disfiguring of five year indentures. But you know how frequently these
indenture contracts get extended."

As soon as he said that, I couldn't breathe. But he continued, "The courts
have determined that public milking is part of the humiliation process so
necessary to helping new slaveboys adapt. We have some good citizen
volunteers who have dutifully offered to help milk these boys in open
court." Three men stood up from the gallery on the left, the one filled
with older homosexuals. I had once enjoyed the spectacle of watching pervs
masturbate older teens, but today it would be my boner on display for the
homos.

I didn't realize until he was standing next to me that the volunteer milker
who would be working on my penis was my fat English teacher, Mr. Tucci. His
pudgy fingers were immediately all over my body. He brushed my nipples and
squeezed my arm muscles. Then his big hand was caressing each of my butt
cheeks. He whispered to me, "You ever get felt up by a man before, Wally?"

I swallowed hard. "Sir, no sir."

"I know I'm just the first of many, but it's fun to be the first." There
was something cold and slippery on his fingers when he wrapped them around
my cock. As he spread the cream on my dick, I felt myself immediately get
stiff. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the scene. There was nothing
erotic to me about this obese man who was breathing hard and stroking my
erection. And the notion of all these people in the audience watching me
helplessly get masturbated, was even worse. Maybe I could close my eyes and
pretend it was some beautiful woman jerking me off.

But there were rude comments being called out from the crowd. A deep
baritone voice yelled, "Nobody cares about their dicks. Show us their
butts." Teenage voices were cruder. "I always said Wally had cocksucker
lips." "Whaddaya bet Russell ends up as a pony slave." "Look how young Cody
looks! He's gonna end up as a puppy for some perv."

Mr. Tucci kept on jerking me off, his hand changing speed and pressure. His
other hand was touching me everywhere. He tugged on my balls, tickled
behind my balls, pinched and massaged my nipples, and smacked my bare
ass. Tears were streaming down from my closed eyes as I felt my cock
explode.

When I opened my eyes I realized there was another man kneeling in front of
me, holding a small bowl under my cock head. He was collecting my
jizz. There were cheers when I shot my load, and Mr. Tucci stood tall with
his hands over his head like a champion. Then he brought his cum-soaked
fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

When the other two boys were finished cumming, our temporary collars were
removed and replaced with sleek platinum collars. These were soldered in
place and could only be removed with special instruments. We were warned
that these collars also doubled as electric shock devices for disobedient
slaves. Since these collars did not have D-rings, our hands were cuffed
high on our backs and kept in place by a thin chain attaching the cuffs to
our collars.

Slaves are never told where they are going or what's happening. A slave
only needs to follow orders. But as we were marched back down the stone
steps toward the sub-basement, I overheard the judge's voice say, "Yes, of
course, tomorrow is the Wild Pups Sale in Gaytown. These boys will bring in
a good price there."

We were placed in cages where we had to crouch down with our knees up to
our chins. The cages were placed on an open-sided truck so we could see the
streets of the town and the people on the streets could see us. There was
pointing and laughing, and some old ladies shook their heads with sadness
at the site of us.

Soon enough we crossed into Gaytown. Here the truck slowed down at each
crowded intersection as groups of gays gathered round and talked excitedly
about the next day's Wild Pups Sale. Some men openly rubbed their boners as
they looked us over. Some reached between the bars of our cages and prodded
our bodies wherever they could grab.

This was my first trip to Gaytown, my first visit to the Gaytown Slave Hall
and their infamous Wild Pups Sale. My classmate, Lumpy, had tried to talk
me into visiting this place just for a lark, but I felt too nervous about
being in such a fully-gay environment. That seems so silly now. I was
scared about being in this gay environment where I would be fully dressed
and free. But here I was stripped to white briefs and chained to a
platform, prepared to spend the next day getting felt up by horny old
homosexuals.

# # #

(to be continued)

for comments or compliments
r -- e -- d -- b -- e -- a -- r -- d -- e -- d -- s -- f
at y a h o o
dot com