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Nn Preteen

Posted on July 16 2012


Related article: Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2006 04:45:16 -0800 (PST)From: Pete Brown Subject: Dray Slave, Part OneDRAY SLAVEBy Pete Brown. petebrownuk yahoo.comRead all of Pete's stories atgroups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstoriesAuthor's Introduction:One of the stories I've enjoyed writing most recentlyis "Steve's First Job" (also posted to niftyauthoritarian), told as a series of e-mail exchangesbetween Steve and his best buddy, Stu. Stu has goneoff to college, but Steve is to work for his father to"get to know the business from the bottom up".Steve's first job, we learn, is to become a draymasterin charge of a heavy Nn Preteen dray making local deliveries - adray pulled by slaves. Most of the story is about howSteve "recruits" and then trains his coffle of newdray slaves to turn them into a really crack team ofwhich he can be proud. I like the story because itgave me a chance to explore new ways of telling atale, and because it also fits neatly into my currentthemes of a "different" future USA, where there hasbeen a second Civil War (see also, for example, "TheSpoils Of War").Amongst the stories by other authors that I personallyenjoy and re-read is the pair called "My Buddy" and"The Other Side Of The Coin" by Bill Smith and GeorgeEdington, respectively. This pair of tales tells ofthe purchase of a newly-enslaved man from theperspective both of the slave, and the buyer.Intrigued by this, I decided to do something similar:"Dray Slave", therefore, tells the story in "Steve'sFirst Job" from a third point of view- that of one ofthe dray slaves himself. My only problem in writingthe story has been in giving the slave a name:"Steve" has a peculiar resonance for me, and regularreaders will know that I generally select this namefor the "hero" of my stories - but that name has been"taken" by the trainer/driver already, and so,unusually, this is "Dave's" story!Pete BrownDRAY SLAVEPart OneThey captured me after the siege of Raleigh. Isuppose I was lucky really - some of the battles inwhat became known as the Second Civil War were prettydramatic. And I suppose that civil wards bring outthe worst in people - there are just too manysimilarities between the two sides, and they know eachother too well. They treated us pretty well, allthings considered, though - it was hard, in theimmediate aftermath of that bloody siege, to findenough food and water for the civilians, let alone forcaptured Marines like me, but the Southern commandermust have been a pretty decent type as they managed toscrape up enough rations to make sure we got at leastone meal a day. It was pretty humiliating beingdisarmed, though, and then made to just sit thereinside the Stadium - well, Nn Preteen I suppose they didn't haveanywhere else to put us, and with a few Nn Preteen of theirsoldiers around the perimeter of the field withsubmachine guns it was easy to keep the couple ofthousand of us together, with no chance of usescaping.As you might expect, though, they were keen to get usshipped out to a proper prisoner of war camp as soonas possible, and after three days we were loaded intotrucks and driven across the South to a "proper" campon the outskirts of Charleston. No wonder thoseSoutherners won - they had evidently put a whole lotof effort into planning things, and they even had thisbig camp ready for all the prisoners they clearlythought they'd capture. It was a bit like a propermilitary base, really - well, I suppose it might haveactually been one at some point, as there were rows ofbarracks huts neatly lined up, a big mess hall, andall the sort of facilities you expect to find like agym, medical centre, and so on - the only thing thatwas missing was a PX, which turned out not to be aproblem for us as we didn't have any money anyway! Itlooked really well run - as our truck went in throughthe gates we saw the usual "bull" things that you seeat all bases - neat signs, a row of marker stonesalong the edge of the roadway painted freshly white,and of course men: man marching and drilling, doingexercises, and generally getting on with everydaylife. Most of Nn Preteen them were in some sort of uniform,although it was obvious from the mixture of stuff thatthis was a holding base for prisoners from severalunits.They adopted a pretty simple way of running the place,too - all us prisoners were just herded in throughthe gates, and then Nn Preteen we were left to our own devices.We were all soldiers, though, and we were soon sortedout - the place was run by one of our own Colonelswho'd been captured a lot earlier, and he maintainednormal army discipline. Those of us who'd lost mostof our uniforms were found some bits and pieces offresh clothing, there was an orderly hut assignment toprevent over crowding, and the Colonel insisted thatwe drill and so on every day and respect the officers.He had all us "newbies" line up on our first daythere and told us Nn Preteen that it was, after all, probablethat we'd be freed very soon as it could only be amatter of a few weeks before the industrial might ofthe North triumphed, and then we'd all be going backto our regular units. So we needed to obey ourofficers and sergeants, and he wanted us to maintain a"tight ship" so we'd be ready: he didn't want anyslovenliness, or for us to allow our bodies to go tosoft. So we'd be exercised and drilled, and he toldus that if there was any breach of discipline we'd bepunished, by his officers - a small area of the campand one of the huts had been designated as a jail, andwe'd be sent there if there was even the slightestsuggestion that we were not behaving like propersoldiers; and, of course, once we were freed and backin our regular units, we'd be subject to normalmilitary discipline again and might be reduced inrank, or lose pay., or something.It worked well, really - we were all a prettydisciplined lot, and we were used Nn Preteen to living on a base.It was hard not to be able to leave at all to godowntown to a bar, as we would have done normally,but, all in all, it wasn't a bad life. You got usedto seeing the big mesh fence all around the place, therows of barbed wire on top, and the guards patrollingwith guns immediately outside, but I suppose that'swhat prisoner of war camps have always been like.,Mind you, given that we were still in Nn Preteen the USA, I dothink they could have put a few phones in and let usmake collect calls to our folks back home - it wasn'ta particular problem for me as I was divorced anddidn't get on with my bitch of an ex-wife, but forsome of the guys, with wives and families, it wasreally hard to be so close, and yet so far away.None of us anticipated the total collapse of theNorth, of course. As I said, the Colonel had told usthat we might expect to be released within a couple ofmonths when the South collapsed, but instead of that,it was the North who just caved in. Those sneakySouthern bastards made some deal or other with theArabs, the North's oil was cut off, and that wasbasically it: a modern war is a mechanical war, andwithout oil, nothing moves. So there we were ,prisoners of war, all nice and snug in our camp,drilling, exercising, and, Nn Preteen I suppose making the bestwe could of things.Some time later it was the Colonel himself gave us allthe bad news - he had us lined up neatly on the paradeground and the Southerners had even given him a PAsystem so we could all hear - there were, after all, acouple of thousand of us at least. He began by givingus the facts as he knew them : the news that theNorth had capitulated, and when there were angrymurmurs and movements in the crowd, he barked at us tomaintain the discipline that the army expected fromsoldiers. Then he went on to give us the really badnews - well, the war had all started over "States'rights" as you probably know, and the desire of theSouth to reintroduce slavery, and now that they'dwon, that was what was going to happen . And it hadbeen decided by the New Congress that all those whohad been guilty of participating in the war were tobe enslaved: and that meant us! There was a lot moremuttering, and some shouting then, but the Colonel's apretty tough man and I think it was his iron will thatmaintained discipline that day. He went on to saythat as slaves we no longer had any rights at all, andthat of course meant that if the Southerners wanted tokill us, they could - there was no longer any fear ofthem being guilty of war crimes or anything, as underour country's new laws, slaves were property and couldbe treated in any way that their owners wanted. Headvised us that the best thing to do was to maintainour discipline, as good soldiers: that way, we wouldat least stay alive. And as he pointed out, "whilstthere's life, there's hope."After that, of course, we all stood around talking,and some of the guys were in favour of rushing theguards and making a mass break. There weren't allthat many of them, and there were a couple of thousandof us, and it seemed likely that if we overpoweredthem there'd be some loss of Nn Preteen life, but that theoverwhelming majority of us would get out. Some of usgot together that night to plan how we'd go about it,but the Colonel heard about it and I, and some of theother guys who'd been planning it, were summoned tohis presence."We should all be proud of the fighting spirit thatyou men exhibit", he told us. "But one of the thingsthat an officer learns is that it's necessary toconsider the consequences of any planned action. Nn Preteen Idon't doubt that you could overpower the guards herewith some casualties on our part, but what then?"We all looked a bit puzzled, and he went on "We've allbeen classified as slaves, remember? We're no longersoldiers or even civilians - we're slaves. We have norights. And the penalty for escaping slaves is alwaysdeath, they tell me. So gradually you'd be hunteddown and, one by one, put to death.""Sir, they can't do that to us...", one of the guysprotested, "It's contrary to the universal declarationof human rights."The Colonel shut him up promptly. "Oh yes they can!We no longer have 'human rights' as we're slaves.I've read the laws the New Congress has passed and itmakes it very clear that the penalty for escapingslaves is death. And any citizen has the right toshoot such a slave.... So what are you going to do ifyou get through the fence? You've got no money, nopapers, nothing. You'd be on foot, here in the South,and I guess a lot of the folks around here are notvery kindly disposed to us Northerners, so they'drelish the opportunity of taking revenge. And even ifyou did get out of the immediate area, what then?Even assuming you did get back to your home, itwouldn't alter things as slavery is now the norm rightacross the USA - you'd still be escaped slaves in DesMoines, or New York, or San Francisco, or wherever.It would only need a neighbour to turn you in, or fora suspicious cop to stop you and ask to see yourpapers, and you'd be in the same position."He paused for breath, and went on "It's a toughdecision, I know, but it seems to me that we have verylittle choice: be slaves, or be killed."Well, after that some of us met to talk about thewhole escape thing again, and some of us were still infavour of getting away - we didn't want to be slaves,and even though it was risky, it seemed worth it tobreak out and then do our best to get across theborder to Mexico, or Canada, or somewhere - some of usbelieved that in the chaos that would be reigningaround the place, it might be our only chance to givethe Southerners and the cops and everyone the slip.The Colonel got wind of this meeting, though, andcalled me and some of the other ringleaders into hishut again."I've told you that this is suicidal, and I won'tcountenance it", he told us. "I won't have my menneedlessly laying down their lives. I order you toabandon this escape attempt, and to respect normalmilitary discipline.""But we're no longer soldiers, sir!", I reminded him."....As we've been declared to be slaves - you told usthat yourself. So we can do what we think best, andwe no longer have to obey your orders...."I thought he was going to have apoplexy! But therewasn't much he could do about it, was there? If wewere never going back to our regular units, we hadnothing to fear from military discipline. So wecarried Nn Preteen on planning, but a bit more secretly this timeBut we found out that he had regular dealings withthe camp commandant, as the moment they began takingus away from the camp in small lots, us conspiratorswere amongst the first to be taken, and so the wholescheme collapsed.I suppose we all knew they'd started slave trading.Men would be called over to the admin block, andmostly never came out again - we saw the trucksleaving, heading for the Interstate, and it was awfulto think of those guys being taken off to work in thefactories, or mines, or fields, or wherever. But whatcould we do? There no longer seemed to be theenthusiasm for a "suicide" attack on the guardsfollowed by a mass break out, and so we would have toput up with what was in store for us.I was actually working out when a guard came over andtold me to go over to the admin block, so I knew mytime had come: I was dripping with sweat, as I reallylike to keep fit and wanted to go and collect my stuffand have a shower, but the guard told me to forget itas if I was selected to go that day, I wouldn't betaking any of my things with me anyway.I'd never been inside the admin block before, and theguard shepherded me and about twenty other guys into alarge bare room. We stood there, in what remainedof our uniforms - in my case my combat boots, camotrousers, and a T as I'd been working out - and twomen came in, with a couple of armed guards. One couldonly have been a kid - eighteen or so, I'd guess, butthe other was in his mid-thirties. They were bothsmartly dressed in suits and big Fedora hats, and Isuppose one might even have said the kid was sharplydressed in what were the current season's fashion(well, what looked as if they'd become the currentseason's styles, from what I remember before the warbegan). One of the guard snapped at us to form astraight line by the long wall, and the older guy saidcalmly "No, not all of them - we don't want anyniggas."It sounded so shocking, to hear the "N" word used likethat, but he went on "Our experience is that theseNorthern niggas never acclimatise properly to beingslaves. They're so damned uppity, as they're so usedto demanding their rights and so on. They just can'tget used to the fact that they haven't got any rights,none at all. So it's preferable to have only whiteys- they learn to adjust quicker, we find ."I suppose that was the first time I'd heard anyonecall a group of men "whiteys", but as time went on Iwas to learn that this was the terminology regularlyused in the slave trade: whiteys and "spanics'" -Hispanics - were highly prized as they were consideredto be versatile and suitable for many types of work,niggas came next as they Nn Preteen were thought to be strong andhighly adaptable for heavy manual labour; and the restwere lumped together into the categories of "chinks"(Asiatics in general), and "'breeds " - short forhalf-breeds - slaves of mixed parentage. It was, Isuppose, my first introduction to the way Nn Preteen in whichfree folk now perceived their fellow men, once the tagof "slave" had been applied to them.The guard dismissed the five blacks from amongst us,and the rest of us - fifteen now, I guess, just stoodthere.The two guys in the smart clothes then walked slowlyup and down the line, looking at us intently. Thenthe older one said to the guard that he wanted to takea closer look at us, and that he wanted us to strip!I thought at first I'd misheard - I mean, these menlooked as if they were selecting those of us theywanted for a work assignment, and you don't expect tohave to take your clothes off for that, do you? Butthe guard rapped out that we should strip off, andwhen one of us objected, he touched him with somethingand the next moment the guy was writhing around on thefloor. Two of the others went to help him, and theguard shouted out "That's the first lesson you newslaves need to learn - a slave prod hurts! And thatwas only at half power - at full power it can knockyou out, induce vomiting, cause muscle spasms.... Asit is, your buddy is just hurt temporarily, but I'dadvise you all to take care! Now, do as I've fuckingwell told you, and get naked!"We all felt a bit awkward, striping off like that, Isuppose. Not that we weren't used to it - I mean, inthe Marines, you spend a lot of time in the barracksand communal showers and so on, so there's nothingunusual in being naked with your buddies. But whenthere are other guys in the room who are clothed - andpretty sharply Nn Preteen dressed, too - then it's all a bitdifferent. And when you stop for a moment andconsider that the reason you're doing this is so thatthey can inspect you - inspect you as a slave, as theywant to choose some of you to go and work for them -then it's a wholly different experience.Fifteen of us stood there then, mostly in our standardarmy issue cotton boxer shorts, and the two men wentup and down the line again. I heard the older one sayto the younger "This is a pretty good bunch, actually- when I called ahead I told them to line up Nn Preteen bigstrong guys. It's not so tough pulling the draygenerally, until you get to an uphill stretch. Butit's the loading and unloading - you need a bit ofpower, to haul all those big fridge-freezers into andout of the customer's home. And, anyway, I think itlooks best if the slaves are pretty evenly matched -it looks less satisfactory to have an odd jumble ofall shapes and sizes when they're all meant to beworking together."The younger one cut in "Yes, but how shall I pick? ""Well it doesn't matter all that much. I also said Ionly wanted men between their early twenties and earlythirties, and they seem to have done a good job as allthese seem to fit the bill. Much younger than thatand they haven't put on enough muscle - rather likeyou, Steve! I know you did a lot of athletics andstuff at High School, but a man doesn't really put onpower until he's in his twenties. And you don't wantthem too old, as we need to get a reasonable workinglife out Nn Preteen of them - we're going to spend a lot of moneytraining them and stuff, and we'll need to Nn Preteen recoup ourinvestment."The younger guy - Steve, I supposed - nodded, and theolder one continued "And there's another advantage tohaving them all much the same age - it helps them tobond. Remember, you've got to put together a realteam if you're going to get the most work out of them,and a team forms best if the guys all like each other.It's easier for them to bond if they're much the sameage - especially as we want them to have a healthy sexlife."I listened to all this with interest. No, that's notthe right word. At one level it was interesting, butat another, it was scary. No, not even scary -fucking outrageous! These men Nn Preteen were going along andchoosing us as if we were some sort of commodity, notreal men. A small bead of sweat trickled down my backas I thought that this was, presumably, what being aslave was all about - free men could jut come and pickand choose you, and you had no say in the matter. Imean, what was all this fuck about pulling a dray andunloading stuff? I was a trained soldier, a proudmarine, capable of fighting for our country.... No,"their" country, now, I suppose: the country of thefree, of which it seemed I was no longer a part.Still, they wanted us to have a good sex life - soperhaps it wasn't all bad! There was no sex in thePOW camp as women prisoners were somewhere else, andit was a fair time since I'd managed to pick up awoman and fuck.They went down the line again and this time the olderguy - who I heard "Steve" call Jon - advised him to"weed out the chinks". I knew one of the guys - hewas in my unit and a fucking good soldier, someonewho'd you'd really want watching your back when timesgot tough. He was third generation, as hisgrandparents had come here from Laos or Vietnam orsomewhere after some skirmish in the twentiethcentury, and he was a s American as I was. But Iheard the older guy tell the younger one "Don't botherwith the chinks - although they work hard, and theseare right up to the spec we set for weight andeverything, I don't think they look as good as a a setof proper whiteys, and we have to remember that thereputation of the Company depends on not onlydelivering a good service to our customers, but onbeing seen to do so: a set of pure whiteys is muchmore exciting for the customers."We were down to about twelve of us now, and the twomen went along the line again. This time the olderguy said "Now, Steve, take a really close look:although they're quite closely matched in height, someof them are a bit out Nn Preteen from the norm... You can get twosame height guys, but one has a long body and shortlegs, the other big long legs and a short body.... Weneed a good balance, consistency, powerful legs forthose hills, but a good strong body for the loadingand unloading. So why don't Nn Preteen we eliminate those guyswith very long bodies, or very long legs?"Once more the two of them came down the line, andrejected some of us. I don't know whether I was gladto still be there, or if I should have hoped that I'dbeen rejected. It sounded like I would still be keptwith some of my buddies, at least, and whilst there'sa group of soldiers together, there's always a fainthope that we might escape, I suppose. After all, oncethings had settled down a bit after the war, and wewere used to the little ways of slavery, how hardcould it be just to slip away and melt into the crowdand make our way north to Canada, or south to Mexico?Finally, there were ten of us left, and the young guy,Steve, said to the older one "Now what, Jon? We'vebeen up and down this line several times, and they alllook pretty much the same to me now! We've eliminatedall the obvious ones. But we only need nine slaves,you said, so how do we pick? Toss a coin, orsomething?""Steve, there is one thing we haven't yet judged....""And what's that? They all much pretty much alike tome - same height, same shape, nice and muscular,pretty good looking bunch, I'd say....""Steve, you're forgetting one thing - the uniform!What else do we care about?" As he said this, the manJon turned to one of the guards and said "Get themtotally naked, will you?""Right, you guys, drop those boxers!", he snapped atonce. I went to protest, but it was just as well Iwas a bit slow off the mark as a guy at the other endof the line who did was soon writhing on the floor asthe guard used his prod on him. "Now, unless you allwant a touch of the prod, get naked", he snarled, andwe all did. I pushed my boxers down and stepped outof them, and just stood there in my army boots and mydog tags.Look, I know I've told you that I'm used to beingnaked around the other blokes in my unit, and, anyway,I've got absolutely nothing to be ashamed of - I'venever had anything to even be concerned about when Icompare myself with the other guys in the showers, andeven that bitch of an ex-wife never complained aboutthe size of my dick! But Nn Preteen it's one thing to be nakedwith your buddies, or your wife, and quite anotherwhen you're a slave, being inspected - and selected,even - on the size of your dick! I felt a mixture ofshame, Nn Preteen and anger, and embarrassment: shame, at beingused like this, at having failed as a soldier; angerthat these guys could order us to do this, and thentreat us just as if we were some sort of prize stock,who they were selecting on the basis of theirphysiques (well, I suppose that's what we were, really- to them, we were just stock!); and embarrassment -well, I don't know why I was embarrassed really, as,after all, none of this was really my fault. It wasthe fucking system, after all, the system that couldturn good, honest marines, free Americans, intoslaves. It was these Southerners who ought Nn Preteen to beembarrassed, embarrassed at treating other humanbeings in this way.They went up and down he line, though, and at onepoint I thought that the older one was even going toreach out and touch my dick! If he had, slave prod orno slave prod, I'd have hit him, I can tell you - noone messes with my dick! I didn't even really likewomen touching it,, well, except to give me a goodblow job, of course.One of the guys in the line-up was in my platoon, andit was no surprise, actually, when Steve and Jonpicked him out and told the guard he was unsuitable.He was a bit of a joke in the barracks, actually, asalthough he was big and tough and a hard fighter likethe rest of us, his dick just wasn't as well developedas the rest of him and he was strangely out ofproportion. I don't suppose it mattered muchnormally, as everyone knows that a lot of thedifference goes away when you're at full wood, and hewas known as being a bit of a stud, actually, alwayspulling some woman or other on the weekends, and sothere couldn't be all that much wrong with him. Butwhatever these "uniforms" were they were talkingabout, his small dick seemed to make a difference tothose selecting us, and so he was told to dress and goback to the camp.The rest of us - nine, now, were left standing there,and the men Steve and Jon went off to do somepaperwork - to Nn Preteen actually "buy" us, I suppose. I knowit sounds odd to be using that word when you'redealing with men, and not horses, or cattle, or dogs,or something, but that's what it was: they were offto pay money, and then we'd "be" theirs - they'd ownus! Somehow, just thinking about this sent a shiverdown my spine. We went to pick up our clothes andput them back on, but the guard snapped "Stay naked!Who the fuck told you it was OK to get dressed?"There was a bit of muttering from some of the guys,but the even though there were only two guards, theyhad slave prods and there was an awful lot of bareskin around to aim them at, so we Nn Preteen just did as we weretold, and stood there. It wasn't as if it was cold oranything, but you feel pretty foolish, actually,standing around like that bare-assed. I mean, usuallywhen you're naked you're getting into or out of bed,or you're in or out of the shower. You don't usuallystand there with a bunch of other guys with yourclothes all piled up behind each of you, just wearingarmy boots, do you? A horrible thought started tocome to me - well, I'm only twenty three, and you knowhow it is at that age: you have a lot of erections!Suppose I began to throw a wood now? What would I do?I know it's perfectly natural and everything, butthat's not the point, is it? Even when you live abit of a communal life as a marine you don't get hardin front of your buddies. The problem is that themore I thought about it, the more I thought I couldfeel my dick starting to swell with blood. Youprobably all know how it is - you get that littlefeeling of excitement, and then your dick starts tostir, moving away from your balls Nn Preteen just ever soslightly.... Oh no, fuck me, please don't let thishappen to me here....I was only saved, I think, by the two men comingback, and they Nn Preteen showed the guards a pile of papers -our bill of sale, I suppose- and one of them thensnapped at us "Right, you slaves! Line up, as you'reoff, out of here..."One or two of the guys started to ask about picking uptheir clothes again, and their stuff from thebarracks, but the guards only laughed. "You're fuckingslaves! You don't own anything now, and your newowners don't care. You may as well keep your boots onfor now, though... Now, do as you're fucking welltold, and line up..."It's odd, isn't it? There were only two of them andwe could have rushed them and overpowered him. Nineof us, big, tough, trained fighters, and only two ofthem? And even if one or two of us did feel the prodthing, seven would still be enough to flatten them,and we'd then have their guns... But somehow I thinkwe were still all acting like soldiers - we were usedto obeying orders, however bizarre they at firstseemed. So we lost what was probably our last chanceof escaping, and I wonder how things might have turnedout differently if we'd just been able to put ourinhibitions aside - once we'd got a gun or two, wecould have perhaps helped everyone to escape, and witha couple of thousand of us spreading out, it surelywould have been hard to recapture us all and some ofus might have achieved a "free" life again. But thereyou are - if you don't take your chances when they'represented to you, you deserve to lose out, I suppose.The guards told us to "about face" and march out ofthe door of the admin place, and as we went into thesunlight it struck me for the first time thateverything really now was different for me. If beingnaked inside and being inspected and selected as if Iwas an animal was bad enough, being naked outside wasreally strange - especially as we could see our fellowPOWs still marching around and exercising as normal,just as if nothing had happened. But it all hadchanged for the nine of us, we realised - there infront of us, on a flat-topped truck, was a cage, andwe were commanded to climb up onto the truck and getinto it. I was wary of the slave prods by now, butone of the guys started to scream and shout and saythat they had no business to take us out of a POW campas we had rights as prisoners. They must have turnedthe power on the prod thing up to "full", as hescreamed briefly and fell to the ground, and lay theretwitching and not moving.Seeing this, the rest of us reluctantly clambered uponto the truck and went into the cage - it wasn't verybig, and we all tried to space ourselves around theedges of it to avoid touching each other - well, Imean, guys don't like having their dicks swinging intothe are flesh of other guys, do they? It was a reallytight fit, though, and all our precautions came tonothing as the guards picked up our fallen companionand almost threw him into the cage with us - they wereholding him under his pits, and he was coming aroundand kind of half staggering, and then they gave him abig shove and pushed him in - and that caused us allto bang together and half fall Nn Preteen over, and I got to knowfor the first time what it would be like to have to bein such intimate contact with my buddies.We all hated it as the two men got into the cab andthe truck drove off - for one thing the wind was hotagainst our bare skin, and the sun was strong and Ifelt sure I was going to get sunburned. But we werelike animals in that cage, animals being carried weknew not where, without having any say in matters all.It wasn't so bad on the open highway, but as we gotmore in towards the city, there started to be folksabout on the sidewalks and getting in and out of theircars in the strip malls, and they all turned to lookat us and we felt so ashamed and tried to coverourselves with our hands - not all that easy whenthere's so little room to manoeuvre. And a big manlike me feels ashamed at having to cover himself likethat - for one thing, I need both hands, and I think Ilook silly. But you can't go exposing yourself to alland sundry, including women and kids, can you?Fortunately it seemed we didn't need to go right intothe centre of town, as we turned off into anindustrial estate, and then in through the gates ofwhat looked like a pretty standard sort ofdistribution depot - there was a huge warehouseshed-like structure with long distance trucks lined upagainst one side being unloaded directly into it, somesort of offices block, and another shed-like place,which we stopped outside of. The two men, Steve andJon, got out from the cab, leaving the driver, andwent into the office block. We all stood therelooking out through the bars of the cage - well, wecouldn't do much else, could we - until they Nn Preteen emergedsome minutes later with several other men. These wereall dressed in what we came to know as the uniforms ofthe company - dark green work shorts, a paler greenshort-sleeved shirt, and tan boots, and we saw thatfrom their leather belts as well as the usual two-wayradios there were a number of other things hanging,including the slave prods. At a command the men gotout their prods and came and stood menacingly near thedoors of the cage, which was then opened and we wereordered out.It's hard, actually, moving around and doing thingslike getting down off a truck when you're naked -you're just not used to the way your dick and ballsfly around, and you have to be careful. But soon allnine of us were there, surrounded by the guards withtheir prods, and we were then led off into the smallerof the two shed-like buildings. Inside it was coolerand dim, and we were led along a path in-between setsof barred cell-like things on both sides. We wereherded into one of them, and the door was banged shutand locked.The two men who'd "bought" us, Steve and Jon, stoodthere outside and they dismissed the other guards.Then we heard Jon tell the younger guy, Steve, tocheck out the water supply as "These men are yourteam, and you're responsible for them. You need tomake sure they'll be OK over night." We watched asthe young guy reached through the bars and flicked atsomething on the wall, and we heard the sound ofrunning water. And then both men turned and walkedoff, ignoring our shouts demanding to know what thefuck was going on. We looked around ourselves thenand found that ,apart from the water spigot that theyoung guy had tried out, our cell was completelyfeatureless. There was straw on the floor - yes, realstraw, just as you'd find in a stables or something -but otherwise, that was that: underneath the straw itwas bare concrete ,the walls were concrete, and thereseemed no possibility of breaking down or forcing thebarred Nn Preteen door. It was dim and dark as there was onlylight filtering in from the corridor.We all stood there, wondering what the fuck was goingto happen to us, until we heard voices - men's voices,some laughter, but generally sounding very tired, andwe guessed that some of the other cells were beingfilled with prisoners like us. We stood there, tryingto keep a reasonable distance from each other, and allthe time listening to try to understand what washappening elsewhere in the place - the men we'd heardbeing put into the other cells seemed to be gettingfed as there was the chink of metal containers andstuff, but no one came and fed us. Eventually, thelights in the passage way went out, and we realised itwas time to sleep - but the cell was really small, andit was really difficult to get sorted out and lie downin the darkness without touching your buddies. Andunless you've actually tried sleeping on straw, youcan't imagine how uncomfortable it is as the straw hassharp ends to it, that stick into your naked skin.Still, at least it meant we were a bit insulated fromthe hard concrete of the Nn Preteen floor.You couldn't help being in close contact with yourbuddies as during the night a lot of the guys Nn Preteen thrashedaround in their sleep as I guess they were worriedabout what was going to happen to us, and that meantwe were thrown together and I couldn't help but feelthe stiff dicks of some of them pushed against me.Still, in the dark, you didn't know which of yourbuddies it was, so it wasn't so bad, I suppose - Imean, when you're sharing a tent out on manoeuvres youknow the other guys throw woods as you yourself do,but at least then you've got your uniforms on, or atleast your boxers!I did get to sleep eventually, but was roughly shakenawake by one of the other guys. There, at the gate toour cell were the two men from the day before, andthey were shouting at us to get moving. It was onlyas I scrambled to my feet that I realised I was erect- well, most guys are in the morning, aren't they?And although I hated the other guys seeing me likethis, most of them were, too, so it wasn't all thatbad. We were told to have a good long drink from thespigot as we wouldn't get any more that morning, and Ifelt utterly humiliated as it was low down on the walland I had to kneel there, sucking away at it, knowingthat all the other guys could see my ass. Still, Isuppose it was the same for them, when it was theirturn.One of the guys very respectfully asked the menoutside when we were going to be fed, as we hadn't hadany food since the POW camp the day before, and wastold to shut up, as "slaves get fed when we think theyneed it, not when they want it!".As they unlocked the cage door and told us to file outinto the corridor, I wondered what on earth my newlife was going to be like.End Of Part One
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