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Festival Of The Ancients Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Patty

One end of the cage there was a bucket and a roll of toilet paper, the other end were several boxes of bottle water. Nothing else.
A few of the women talked quietly among themselves, but for the most part, the night was passed with out much interaction with anything but their own thoughts. Anyway, it was too damn hot to do much else.
The sun was just lighting the eastern sky when the silence was broken by several men, each dressed like the man the day before, drug the handles of their short whips along the chain link. “Everybody up, shower and shave time,” they shouted. “Assume the position!” The men organized the women in a somewhat straight line, each prodding and pushing the women into the position of a sex slave. And each took his time with whatever pair of tits struck his fancy, squeezing, pinching, and laughing.
Each woman was handed a small bar of soap, a small bottle of shampoo, and a disposable razor.
Two garden hoses were brought into the pen, and the guards tuned them on the slaves, as they instructed each where to wash, what to shave, and then again, how to stand.
The water felt good to Patty. She used the bar of soap to lather up her pussy hair, and quickly shaved off her mohawk. Lathering all her nooks and crannies, the guard made sure that every square inch of Patty was squeaky clean, and then he moved to the next in line.
Standing in the position of a sex slave, the water evaporated off of Patty’s skin, cooling her somewhat, making her feel good. Her nipples showed their appreciation as well, standing stiff in the morning air.
Finally, the shower was over, and the stocky guard from the day before walked up to the pen.
“Good morning ladies”, he boomed. “Are you ready for some sex?”, he yelled, imitating the opening of Monday night football. “We have a special treat for you this morning, so that you will all remember your place. And after that, you will all be placed on the auction block, and sold as a piece of meat. Are you ready for some sex?” he bellowed again, making the rest of the guards laugh.
The slaves were lined up, and ordered to move out single file, down a narrow asphalt paved path, leading into a very rocky canyon in the Arizona desert.
They had not marched but a few minuets when the arrived in a wide spot in the pavement. In the center of the pavement stood a square post, about ten feet high, with another post and brace fastened to the top of it. It reminded Patty of pictures she had seen of medieval gibbet, the kind they used to hang people from. A rope was attached to the end of the arm, and standing directly underneath, was a full-breasted, nude, bound, blindfolded woman. At first, Patty thought the rope as attached to her neck, but finally noticed it was tied to her wrists, which were bound behind her back. The woman’s legs were bound above the knee by several passes of a thick white rope. She was bound at the ankles in the same manor. Patty noticed the woman had the tattoo of a snake on her thigh. She was the same woman they pulled out of line the day before.
The slaves where order to assume the position. Patty realized the sun was starting to get hot.
Standing in the hot sun was becoming very uncomfortable. Patty wished things would hurry along. Finally, another line of nude forms arrived. But these slaves where males, all nude, all pubic areas completely shaved, and all assumed the position of a sex slave when told to do so. They were lined up on the other side of the post, so the slaves stood staring at each other.
The voice of the short stocky guard boomed across the desert morning. “We want you all to realize, that it could very well be you standing under the post this morning. And if you do not do as you are told by you future masters, it will be you standing under the post.”
And having said that, the guard motioned to the two guards stand behind the post. They grabbed the rope, and began pulling. The rope was tied to the wrists of the woman standing under the arm, then through a pulley at the end of the arm, through a second pulley at the top of the post, and down to the two guards, who where pulling mightily on the rope. He wrists where pulled violently up behind her back, forcing her to bend over as far as she could. She was standing on tiptoes, trying to keep the weight of her body off her shoulders, which had now been force into an unfamiliar position.
The guards stopped pulling, letting the slave get used to hanging by her arms. Her body stretched a little, and then a little more. Even though her ankles were bound together, the slave was trying to stand on her toes, still trying to take some of the weight from her shoulders. They let her stand this way for a while, the sun getting hotter, her body starting glisten from sweat. And then they would pull another inch, and she would start the tip toe dance all over. Finally, they had pulled enough to pull her off the ground, her body swinging free, her head forced to look at the ground, her tits stretched tight and force out. She bent her legs at the knee several times, trying to regain the ground, but could not. It only made her swing even more. She grunted several times, and her breath became gasps for all to hear. She was laboring, sweating, gasping in pain.
The guards let her hang like this for a few seconds, but to Patty it seemed like a long time. Not wanting to pull her shoulders out of their sockets, the guards put her back down, so she could again take the weight off her shoulders with her toes. Sweat was running off of the slave now, dripping freely onto the asphalt.
That is when Patty realized the guards where moving down the line of slaves. The stocky guard would stop in front of each female slave, and show her what he held. It was a hanger from a motel, the kind that has two metal clamps on it that slide on a metal rod. The guard would stand in front of the slave, adjust the clamps to fit her nipples, open the mean metal clamps and put them on the slaves nipples. But he was careful enough to let the clamps close on the nipples enough to get the slaves attention, then would move on to the next slave.
When he stopped in from of Patty, and she glanced at what he held out to her. She had worn nipple clamps before. One of her past boy friends had even talked her in to making an amateur B&D video, and her part was wearing a zipper of clothes pins across her breasts and nipples. Her friend wanted it to be real looking, so the hinge part of the pins was not sprung like in most of the B&D movies. When the zipper was pulled from Patty’s tits, most of the pins left deep marks, and some even blood blisters. Remembering the intense pain when the zipper was jerked from her body, Patty’s head began to swim, waiting for the metal clamps now positioned in front of her tits to be applied. She heard the metal clamps squeak as the guard opened them between his thumb and forefinger, felt the slight push against her tits as he pushed them onto her. She sucked in her breath as the guard slowly let the pressure of the clamps bite into Patty’s nipples, anticipating the intense rush of pain.
And then he was gone, moved on to torment the next in line, taking his clamps with him.
Patty regained her composure, even though her heart was pounding, and her head slightly swimming. She noticed that the male slaves were being tormented in the same way as she had just been.
Finally, the guard finished with the line of female slaves, and moved out to the woman hanging tip toe on the post. Her arms drawn tightly up behind her, her breasts stretched out, an easy target for the clothes hanger nipple clamps. Patty was close enough to hear the squeak of the metal clamps as the guard open them, and placed them on the nipples of the hanging slave. But this time he did not back off, and let the full force of the metal clamps bite into the nipples and flesh of the slaves tits. Patty realized the slave was blindfolded, and probably did not know what was coming, so the shock of the intense pain on her tits was doubled. The slave cried out in pain, and tried to shake her upper torso away from the cause of the torment. But she could not, and only succeeded in losing her balance for a few seconds, putting all her weight on her shoulders again. She again regained her balanced tiptoe stance, and was forced to stand, enduring the intense pain applied by the clamps to her nipples. Another guard walked up, and applied to what Patty though was a heavy fishing weight to the metal bar that held the clamps. Letting the weight drop added additional torment to the hanging slave’s nipples. After each weight was added, the slave would gasp, and groan in additional agony. Patty noticed that one of the clamps had drawn blood, and fear for the hanging slave set in.
The booming voice of the short stocky guard brought everybody back to reality. “Come on boys and girls,” he shouted. “We are going to sell you to some people that will make what you have just seen look like a picnic.”
The slaves were marched forward, blending their lines together, one male, and then one female. Before they left the post area, a magic marker was used to write a number on the right thigh of each slave. Patty was number twelve.
Patty was happy for the thin soled shower shoes, as the asphalt-paved trail was starting to get hot. They marched along single file for some time, finally reaching the site of the Festival of the Ancients.
All of the buildings Patty could see reminded her of movies she had seen of ancient times or pictures from a history book.
The slaves were stopped just outside of a large semicircular amphitheater, under a shade from the sun. The amphitheater had a shade roof to protect those sitting in it, but the focal point of the semicircle did not. On the floor of the amphitheater stood another post, just like the one they had seen the slave hanging from, except there was a large square block of stone underneath it. The auction block.
Assuming the position, the slaves stood under the shade. Patty was glad, the sun was getting hotter. Slowly, the people in the audience drifted down from their seats to appraise the slave stock. All were dress in tunics, like pictures Patty had seen of the Greeks. All worn fine jewelry and some of the tunics were worn to expose one of the breasts of the woman wearing it.
Patty suddenly felt self-conscious. She was buck naked, standing with her arms behind her head in front of all these people. Sure, she had worked as a dancer a time or two, but that seemed different. Now she was really up for sale.
As the people would come by, some would fondle, some would pinch, and all would grin. It seamed Patty’s body was going to be well sought after. One man asked Patty to stand on her tiptoes, and as she did he ran his hand down her leg, over the muscle of her thighs and the calves of her legs. He commented to another that she would look good in heels. And Patty knew she would.
Patty noticed that the same man stopped in front of the male slaves on either side of her, and would pump their cock for a few strokes, to test their response. Both male slaves almost reached an erection in just a few pumps. But after a few more people came by, and more pumping, she noticed that the male slaves now had full erections, and they were not gong down in between.
One woman in particular showed great interest in Patty. She lightly moved her fingers over Patty’s face, down over her breasts, teasing her nipples once more into full erection. On down her flat belly, caressing her smooth pubic area, and easily sliding her fingers fully into Patty’s slightly spread pussy. She inserted her index finger into Patty, and Patty found herself moving her hips to try to match the movement of the woman’s finger fucking. The woman pulled out her finger, catching both of Patty’s pussy lips between her fingers, and pulled slightly. Moving her wet fingers up onto Patty’s pubic area, she leaned forward and whispered into Patty’s ear, “My brand is going to look good right here”. And then she left.
The first slave taken to the block as a male. Two guards where already on the block when the male slave was pushed up the steps. His wrists where put into two loops of rope, which were tied to one rope hanging from a pulley on the end of the arm. Other guards pulled the rope, and the male slave was hoisted off the block by his wrists. The bidding began, and the roar of the crowd became intense as the bidding got hot. One of the guards on the block ran his fingers over the nipples of the hanging slave, making them erect. The crowd cheered. The other guard reached over and grabbed the slaves cock, pumping him a few times. Then the guard bent over and sucked the slaves cock into his mouth, giving the slave a few long strokes in and out of his mouth. When the guard let him go, the slave was at full erection. The crowed cheered again. The guards would turn the slave around and around, running their hands over his body and the auctioneer talked about the attributes of the body of the hanging slave. And the guards made sure the slave stayed at full erection.
Finally, the bidding came to an end. The slave was let down, and two guards drug him off the block, and pinning his arms behind his back, half lead, half dragged the slave out the other side of the amphitheater. The guard standing near Patty laughed, and said, “they are taking him off to get branded now. You will hear him scream in a little while”.
The next up was a female slave, and she was hoisted up in the same manor as the first. The bidding began and the two guards on the block did their best to make the slave look presentable. Sucking her nipples, grabbing her legs and spreading them, so the entire crowd could see pink.
But just as the bidding reached a peak, a blood curdling scream came from underneath the side of the amphitheater the first slave had been taken. The crowd roared. The same guard looked at Patty and said, “sounds like they branded him, by god. And you will be soon, hahaha.”
Patty’s mind reeled. She remembered the Internet add, the one that said no one would be marked, no one would be hurt. And then she remembered the female slave of the morning, the trickle of blood running down her belly from one of her nipples. She shivered. This was the real deal. Maybe she had better back out, maybe she had better run. But when she turned, the number of guards had tripled, knowing that the screams would put some slaves in doubt that this was what they wanted to happen.
The next slave sent to the block did not go as easily as the first two. But the guards knew what they were doing, and despite any struggles, the auction proceeded smoothly. The crowd cheering, the guards playing with the hanging slaves, the bidding, the screams.
It was finally Patty’s turn.
The guards got Patty by both elbows, and up the steps of the block she went, only to be grabbed by the guards on the block. They thrust her wrists through the thick ropes, and slid them tight. Before she realized what was happening, she felt herself hanging by the wrists, the crowd was cheering.
Turning. The guards turned her hanging body around and around, so the bidders could see ever view what they wanted. Patty could hear the auctioneer, wanting more and more for her flesh. She felt herself stop turning, but she was dizzy, disoriented. Then she felt a mouth close on one nipple, and then the other, sucking, pulling. The guards each put a hand behind Patty’s knees, bringing her knees up toward her chest, and then out. They spread her for the entire stadium to see. A cheer went up, and through her disorientation, she felt shame. She realized, she was just a piece of hanging meat. But through her haze, the scream from behind the stadium cut through, chilling her. She realized, she was indeed next.
The guards had her down and off the block before she realized what was happening. Half dragging her, they headed toward the exit where she had watched the other slaves disappear into.
She glanced up at the crowd. They were no longer interested in her.
The darkness of the room where she was lead was inviting, but coming in from the bright sunlight into the shadows, Patty was almost blind. The two guards who lead her in were big, and had no trouble picking her up, and setting her on a table. Quickly, they spun her so she was laying on the table, and she felt her ankles locked in by something very ruff. Glancing down, Parry realized they had just captured her legs in a set of stocks, sliding the top board down over her ankles, securing her legs. Now she knew she wanted out, but resisting was of no use, they were too big, too strong. Thick leather cuffs where buckled around her wrists, and looking up, Patty watched as a rope was snapped into the D-rings on each buckle.
She realized what she was laying on. Her old friend had tried to get her on one back in her film days. A rack. Made for stretching people. And now she was on one, and there was nothing she could do about it.
One of the big guards spun the wheel at the head of the table, and Patty’s wrists where rapidly pulled away from her, stretching her supple body along the ruff wood planks that made the table.
The soft hand that was caressing her tit had a ring on each finger, and many bracelets, but it was attached to a middle aged balding man. “Hello, my slave,” the man said. “I just bought you. You can call me Master from now on. Shortly, the guards will put my mark on you, and you will forever be mine.” And with that, the man moved his hand down her taunt stomach to her smooth pubic mound, and gently rubbed and stroked her for a second. Then he was gone.
The hissing sound got louder, and a guard rolled in pipe looking affair with a propane burner in one end. One the side of the pipe was open, and had a rack welded to it. Sitting in the direct flame of the propane burner and supported by the rack were a number of red-hot irons. Branding irons.
Now there were several guards around, and Patty felt and heard the wheel being turned even more. She was stretched tighter than she imagined possible. She could not even move her head.
One of the guards took a glowing red hot iron out of the heater, and showed it to the others. “Do you think it is hot enough?” he asked. The other laughed, and Patty heard one say, “Ok, beautiful, here we go”.
And then things went black. But not because of pain. Patty realized that one of the guards had taken a blind fold and put the whole thing over her face, holding both sides with his hands, pinning her head to the ruff table.
Patty could feel the heat from the iron coming. Getting closer and closer to her pubic mound, exactly where the stocky guard had told her they would brand her. And then she felt the cold, white hot heat as the iron bite into her flesh. And she screamed. And the crowd cheered.

Patty’s head was spinning, her heart pounding in her ears. She was still stretched on the table, but now there was something different. The blind fold had been taken off her face, and the lights were on in the room. And many people, all looking down at her, some smiling, some laughing. Her brain searched to feel the pain from her recently branded pubic mound, but could find none. She began to calm a little. Her breathing came easier. She began to feel something on her pussy though, and could hear an occasional hissing sound. Patty raised her head as far as she could, and saw someone using an airbrush to paint something on her body. On her pussy.
The man finished with the airbrush, and held a mirror so Patty could see. She expected to see an ugly red and black charred brand. But instead, there was a very smart airbrushed symbol, the symbol of her new master. “We need to let it dry for a few seconds more, and then you will be on your way,” he said to her master.
Again there was the hand with all the jewelry. Stroking her tits, running the back of his hand along her still stretched rib cage.
“Before they let you up, I must put my collar on you,” he said. And with that, Patty felt him pass a leather collar around her neck, and heard the click as he locked it in place with a very small pad lock.
Finally, the clicking of the ratchet on the table was heard, and felt. Patty’s body was slowly being released by the dreaded machine. Her hands unbuckled, the board pinning her ankles raised so she could pull her feet out.
Several people helped her off the table, and her new master led her over to the corner of the room. He pointed to a full length mirror, and said, “do you like your new brand? You are mine for three whole days”. And Patty did like the airbrush brand, a simple design, almost early Native American looking.
And then she found her voice. “Master, I don’t understand. I though I was to be branded.” She said.
“Come and stand with me, but you have to be very quiet,” he said. And almost immediately, the lights went out in the room, and darkness set in again.
The male slave that had stood behind her in line was lead in by the same guards. Putting him on the rack, the guards quickly had him restrained, and on the way to being stretched. His cock was still almost erect, and glistened from the salvia of one the guards on the block. The slave was allowed to watch as leather thong was attached to the head of his cock, and then pulled and tied off at the foot of the table, pulling his cock away from the area to be branded. And then the ratcheting started, and the slave was stretched out, almost beyond endurance.
In came the branding iron heater, making the hissing sound. Patty watched, as the male slave could not take his eyes off the red-hot irons. And she remembered that just a few minutes before, she could not either.
A beautiful woman in a flowing tunic stepped up to the table, and caressed the slave, playing with his nipples. She reassured him, and then stepped back.
One of the red-hot irons was removed from the heater, and the guard made sure the slave was watching. And just as suddenly, the same blindfold was forced over the face of the slave. The hot iron was very carefully moved to directly over the shaved pubic area of the slave, where his cock meets his lower belly. His muscles tired to tense, but was stretch too tightly already.
And then something happened that made everything clear to Patty. From an ice chest underneath the table, a guard produced another iron. It had been sitting in ice water, and was very cold. The irons were switched, the cold metal kissing the delicate skin of the slave. And the slave screamed, his mind unable to tell the difference.
And the crowd cheered.

Master lead Patty out of the dark room under the amphitheater by a leather leash snapped onto her collar, and around to an area under the bleachers. A number of nude slaves where standing around, some in small groups. Patty was lead up to a group of three, all leashed together by leather straps snapped onto the d-rings of their collars. Master took the end of Patty’s leash and snapped it onto the collar of the nearest slave.
“You will wait here”, he told no one in particular, “Mistress has her eye on one of the big cocks that will be sold last”. And with that, he walked away, toward the entrance to the slave auction.
Patty noticed they all were wearing the brand of the Master. But two of them did not have numbers on their thighs; they had not been sold at auction. Patty recognized the one that did have a number as one of the slaves sold shortly before she was put on the block. Number 6.
Number 6 was in her thirties, dark hair, heavy breasted, large thick nipples, sliming waist, but could loose a few pounds. Then Patty noticed the woman Number 6 was tethered to was almost her twin. Their facial features were close, but their bodies were almost identical.
Patty turned her glance at the other slave that had not been sold. She looked her right in the eye. She was the same height as Patty. Same build. Same body. Another matched set.
The older slave, the one that had not been sold, reached over and caressed Patty’s shoulder. “Are you alright sweetie?” she asked. “I was branded two years ago, and can still remember the terror I felt. My name is Rose”. “what’s yours?”
“Patty,” Patty mumbled. “And I think I am alright, just a little scared.”
Rose then reached over and gave Patty a hug, smashing her huge tits into Patty’s.
“You will be alright in a few minutes”, Rose said. And after an awkward pause, let Patty out of her bear hug, but not before her hand trailed down Patty’s back, her fingers lightly trailing over Patty’s firm ass.
The other slave that had not been sold, the one that Patty was tethered to, now reached out, and gave Patty a hug. Patty felt her firm breasts smash into her own. Their bellies meet, even the top of their thighs. Patty felt her nipples get hard, just as she felt the woman’s nipples on her breasts.
“Hi Patty, I am Julie”, she said. “Looks like we are a matched pair, huh?”
Patty, smiled, not quite knowing what she meant, but nodded in agreement that they did look alike.
The third slave was next to embrace Patty. She said, ‘come here sweetie, we might as well press the flesh too”. And with that, she gave Patty another tit smashing bear hug. “I am Doris. And you feel just great.” Doris held Patty as long as the others, maybe longer. Patty had fucked other women, usually in a three some or more some situations. And she had worked for a short time as a titty dancer, been in a few amateur movies, so being nude in front of people was not new. But standing here, strapped to other nude women, in plain view of all those around, Patty began to feel just a little self-conscious.
Julie began telling her story, about how she had been accepted to participate in the Festival of the Ancients the year before. And how she had been bought by the Master, and how she liked being a sex slave so much that she volunteered to come back with the Master again this year, just like Rose.
While Julie was talking, Patty noticed the male slave that she had witnesses being branded was being lead out of the branding room by the woman Patty had seen talking to him just before the iron was applied. He had a collar around his neck, not unlike the ones the rest of the slaves were wearing. But things stopped there. The slave’s wrists were chained behind his back, and a chain ran from his wrists down to a set of shackles around his ankles. The shackle chain was not very long, and the slave had to take quick short steps to keep up with his new mistress. As they drew near, Patty noticed other things. The slave must have had his cock pierced, because a ring was inserted in the end of his cock, and a chain attached to the ring and up to the collar around his neck. This chain was drawn tight, pulling his cock up to his collar, forcing the slave to try to bend over as he walked, to keep from pulling on the ring in his cock. A ball gag had been placed around the slave’s scrotum, choking his balls down into a very tight sack.
As they walked by, others in the area parted way, enjoying the view as the pair went on their way.

The large rush of people leaving the amphitheater signaled to the slaves that the auction was over.
The Master drew near, and along with him was a very beautiful middle age woman. His wife. Also walking with them were four other couples, all middle age, all wearing fine ancient style clothing and jewelry.
The Master said in a quiet voice, “slaves, assume the position”. The four slaves scrambled to get in a line, with their hands behind their heads, chest out, stomach in. The Master said, “now look here gang, don’t you think I have two of the best matched sets at the Festival this year?’ I think I will win both the doubles, and the singles, by god”.
The group gathered around the slaves, and did a lot more than express their admiration. Patty felt as if she was back in line before the auction. Hands were all over her body. Squeezing her tits, pinching her nipples into solid erections, fingering her pussy. They did as they wanted, all Patty could do was try to control her body, but she realized that much more of this and she would be grinding out an orgasm.
Finally, the group tired of playing with the slaves, and began to move up the paved pathway toward the main part of the buildings on the Festival grounds.
One couple stayed behind, and handed Patty and Doris, the newly acquired stock, a pair of leather sandals, and gave Rosie a large tub of sun block. “You slaves had better smear this stuff on thick, it is going to be your only protection for a while”, said the man. “My name is Ken, and this is Jane, and the Master has asked us to take charge of his stock for this year’s festival. So hurry, and get this on, so we can catch up with the others”.
Rosie opened the tub of sun block, and squirted it liberally across Doris’s chest and shoulders, the other slaves joined in to smear the cream all over the slaves body. And in turn they all stood as the other slaves applied the sun block to them.
“All right, lets go, we are way behind;” said Ken. And with that they were off, Ken and Jane walking side by side, swiftly up the tail, their elegant robes flowing behind them as the walked. The nude leashed slaves walked in single file behind them.
They soon overtook the slave and mistress Patty had observed leaving the stadium right before the Master and his group appeared. The mistress had attached a leash to the ball gag, and the male slave was being lead by this leash. He was sweating in the hot sun, hurrying with ever short step, to keep his gagged balls from any more abuse than necessary.
They passed clusters of building, the white, plastered walls were bright in the hot desert sun. The paved asphalt trail forking at each one. Patty noticed there were no roads to any of the buildings or any vehicles around at all. Just paved paths for the residents of the festival grounds to walk on.
Ken and Jane turned off the main path at the sign that read, House of Wilson.
They entered the compound through a ornate portal. Inside six small villas surrounded the courtyard. These villas reminded Patty of pictures she had seen of buildings in the Greek part of the world. Very open, she could see all the way through most of them. The areas where privacy was desires where covered by long white curtains, which moved in the occasional breeze. Red Mexican style tile covered the floors of the villas and the courtyard. A flowing fountain centered the courtyard.
Ken led the slaves through the courtyard to the villa on the other side of the fountain, then through the dwelling to a bench attached to the outside back wall. He unsnapped the leashes from all the slaves, and then ordered them to strip. This caught Patty off guard. She already was nude, except for the collar. Then she realized, he wanted their sandals. But Patty had not responded fast enough to Ken’s command, and as Patty was bending over to remover her sandals, Ken laid the wide leather slapper he had carried in his belt across Patty’s exposed ass. Startled, Patty’s first instinct was to rise up, her hands grabbing her burning ass checks. But this was not Ken’s first slave, and he had anticipated Patty’s reaction. He backhanded the slapper across Patty’s now exposed and forwardly thrust tits, again with a resounding smack. Again Patty reacted, bending forward to protect her now burning tits. Ken knew this would happen too, and brought the slapper down across Patty’s bent shoulders, the resounding slap echoed off the walls of the villas.
Patty’s mind reeled. She had just received three vicious strokes from a wide leather whip, even before she knew what was happening.
“Quickly,” Ken ordered, and the sandals were off the feet of the slaves in a hurry.
Laughter could be heard coming from several of the villas, and a voice has heard to say, “sounds like Ken is getting the new stock in order”.
The slave quarters were at the back of Ken and Jane’s villa. Nude, and without sandals, the rocky and scorching hot desert provided all the restraint needed to keep the slaves captive. Pallets on the tiled floor served as a bed. A short distance from their pallet was a toilet, and on the other side of the toilet, a bureau was attached to the wall. Mirrors and lights were also attached to the wall, a great area for applying make-up, thought Patty. Lying nude, the overhead water misters and ceiling fans provided enough cooling to make the heat tolerable. Almost enjoyable, thought Patty.


Master


After the meeting, Fed hitched a ride into the Festival park on one of the may golf carts ferrying people into the rocky canyon. He glanced at the slave pens as they passed. In a few minutes, the slaves that are to be sold the next day would be housed there for the night. He remembered the first year the Festival tried the sex slave auction, he and John Barney, the short stocky guard that ran the slave auction, had a lot of fun washing down the slaves with a garden hose. He wondered if they still do it.
The cart passed the old post, where they used to scare the shit out of the new slaves by putting on a torture act. He wondered if Delila still came down and put on the show. The first time he saw Delila was at a friend’s house, she was hanging from the ceiling by nothing but fishhooks in her back. She loved hanging from that post.
The cart slowed a little and Fred stepped off at the trial leading up to his compound. The whitewashed compound made him dream he was transformed back to the days of the ancient Greeks. Walking though the main gate he was greeted by the beauty of a large fountain surrounded by six white villas. They were very open to the desert air, no air conditioning up here. But then modern man cheated a little too. Misters sprayed a fine mist of water into the air, cooling those underneath it. That, together will ceiling fans, made living with out refrigerated air tolerable in the Arizona desert.
A whipping post, just like the one he had passed earlier stood opposite the fountain from the entry gate. They had used it a little at first, but then some of the others began preferring to use the St. Andrews cross, so the post was more of an ornament.
As he walked into the villa he and Mary had shared over the years, he knew indeed the party had already started. Mary was riding a friendly cock, and was busy kissing the woman that was sitting on the face of the same man she was riding. The rest of the group were gathered around on the couches surrounding the living area of the villa, in various stages of nudity, and sexual acts.
Rita and Johnny were on one of the couches, Rita leaning over sucking Johnny’ cock. Fred sat next to Rita, and began to play with her body. She had a great ass, but what made the day were her tits. Pillow soft with huge nipples. As Fred rolled the nearest nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he looked for any scars that may have lingered. He found none, and thought to himself that old Doc Johnston does a good job. Rita and Johnny had been part of Fred’s compound for many years, without missing a festival. Rita had volunteered to be Fred’s first Gladiator, back when in a wild drunken night they had thought up the idea of the Gladiator competition. Fred remembered they had taken her down to the old slave post, hoisted her up by her wrists, tied her ankles to a bolt in the ground, and stretched her out pretty good. They then pierced her nipples with an ice pick, and put in the Gladiator rings. Unfortunately, she lost in the very first round of competition, and wound up a bloody mess. Fred would never forget her, as he continued to admire Doc Johnston’s work.
He watched Johnny stiffen and pump his load into Rita’s sucking mouth. And then in a few seconds, her mouth was over his cock. Warm. Sucking. He looked down at he scene at his feet. Mary was leaning back now, resting her weight on her hands, her pink tipped tits thrust forward, still riding that cock. The woman she had been kissing was now leaned way down, sucking on Mary’s clit. Fred knew in a few minutes, he and Mary were going to come together. Again.
The arena of the amphitheater was bright in the mid-morning sun, and the desert heat was starting to wake up. Fred and Mary and the rest of the inhabitants of their compound slept in and had a late breakfast, then made their way down to the amphitheater for the slave auction. Mary wanted to get there early so she could go down and check out the slaves. Fred knew she just wanted to go pull the cocks of the young boys.
Fred watched as Ken and his beautiful wife Jane made their way through the crowd toward them. Fred had invited back Ken and Jane, who had handled Fred’s slaves from last year. Ken was good with straps and all that went with the pony girl stuff, but he was a master when it came to putting on a show by hanging a willing slave from the public slave post. And as a bonus to having them in his compound, Jane could deep throat like no one Fred and ever been with.
Ken was excited. “Fred, did you know that Rose and Julie have opted out of the auction and want to go directly into your stable?” asked Ken. This was the first Fred had heard, but was happy.
“That is great, Ken,” said Fred. We can hang old Rose again this year, huh?” They both laughed. Ken and Rose had put on a show stopper of a performance on the public whipping post after one of the feasts last year.
“But the good part is, there are two slaves that are ringers for both Rose and Julie in this years new batch.” Said Ken. “We need to go down and take a good look at them. I think you will find they will be worth the money. It may give us a chance to really win something at this years pony show.”
Fred and a few of his group made their way down to the line of new slaves. Fred was glad the festival committee had agreed to spend the extra money to build the shelter from the sun. Not so much for the slaves, as for himself.
The slaves were standing in a line, hands behind their head, chest out, stomach in, legs and back as straight as possible. Old Jack, the auction master, really knew how to present his stock for sale.
Fred watched as the buyers examined this years crop. The males slaves cocks were being pumped as each new buyer wanted to see and feel the slaves equipment. The female slaves were not any better off, as each had their pussy’s and clitty fingered and their nipples pulled by almost everybody that walked by.
Ken found one of the slaves he had favored. “Come over here, Fred. Now, doesn’t she look a whole lot like Rose? Man, those big juicy tits of hers will bounce like crazy when we put her in harness.”
Fred was impressed. He had not really thought of buying a matched pair. But the more he pondered the idea, the more he liked it.
“Yes, Ken, I believe you are exactly right,” he said. “Number six. We will see what we can do.” Fred walked up to number six and stroking her big, hanging tits, and worked his hand down to her pussy. She stood stone still, or least until Fred found her clit. He knew she could not help it, as she matched the rhythm of his fingers with her hips.
“Number 12 is the other, down here,” called Ken.
Fred moved down the line, slowly looking at each slave as he walked by.
Number 12 was a knock out.
Fred knew that the slave they had last year called Julie was a beauty. And was excited to hear that she wanted back in his stable. And now, standing in front of him in the position of a sex slave of the festival, was Julie’s double.
Fred had to wait his turn to examine her. Almost everybody in line, male and female had taken their time when their turn came. She was awesome. Long auburn hair, down between her shoulder blades. Pert tits, nipples erect and up. Flat belly, wide hips, great muscle definition.
Fred smiled as the woman in front of him took her time, thinking if she plays much longer, the slave is going to come. The woman massaged the slaves hairless pubic mound, and whispered something to the slave. Fred knew what it was, and he was determined that it would be his brand on that smooth pussy.
Fred moved on down the line, taking everything in, when he came upon Jane and Mary. They had found a slave they both liked. And Fred could see why. The two women had raised the front hem of their tunics, and were rubbing their pussys on either of the slaves spread legs. Mary was pumping his cock, and what a cock it was. The slave was huge. Both women would suck on his nipples on occasion, and Fred could tell that even though the slave was as still as he could be, probably trying to think about anything else but the pumping on his stiff cock, the man was going to come soon. His body tensed, and he grunted as his cock pumped out white ropes of cum on the paved path.
“Come on now ladies, you know we don’t like you to abuse the merchandise unless you buy it,” boomed the auction master. Fred, you better bid high, I think Mary has found a toy.”
Mary milked the cum from the slave, and she and Jane gave him one last flick on his nipples with their tongues, one more grind of their pussy’s on his thighs, and then they left him alone.

Fred smiled knowingly as the guards drug the first sold slave off the block and under the grandstands. Rita had sat in front of him, and he was leaning down, slipping off the shoulder strap of her tunic, enjoying feeling her huge tits. The next slave up was a female, and the crowd showed their appreciation when the guards hung her by the wrists, displaying the hanging slaves every charms, including spreading her legs for the crowd to see, and the slaves humiliation. As usual, the bidding began fast, and just as things began to slow to two or three bidders, the scream from under the bleachers would arouse the crowd all over again. When it happened, everybody around Fred laughed, knowing that the slave the guards had just drug under the bleachers had just been false branded.
Finally, slave number 6 was hoisted up on the slave post. Ken had given Fred a knowing nod to each other after watching the slave’s large tits bounce around while she was trying to resist the guards that were dragging her onto the auction block. Fred knew, she would do just fine.
The bidding began in earnest, and as Fred had anticipated, slowed after a few minutes. The scream from under the bleachers was greeted by a cheer from the watching crowd, and then Fred got in on the bidding. He bought the slave cheaper than what he thought he would and he and Ken moved quickly off the amphitheatre’s bleachers to the slave branding room.
The guards already had the slave stretched on the rack when they finally got there. Seams the people at the auction wanted their money before Fred could mark the slave with his brand.
The room was dark and hot when Fred walked over to his newly acquired property. Reaching over, he ran his hand over her wet check, and down to her more than ample breast. Her breath was coming in gasps; the rack had her stretched tight. She was sweating.
“It will be alright, you will see. Only take a second, and you will be mine.” Fred told her.
The branding iron heater was wheeled into the room, and the guards made sure the stretched slave got a very good look at the red hot irons, and then they blindfolded her.
She screamed just as strong and forceful as all the rest, and the crowd cheered just as loud.
Fred always was amused at how the slaves truly believed they had just been kissed by a red hot iron. One festival, he had just hung out down here, in the branding room, despite the heat, to watch the bewilderment of the slaves who truly believed they had just been branded. It took them several minutes to realize the real brand they would wear was air brushed on, and would wear off in three or four days. And this new slave was no exception. He stood with her while the next sold slave was brought in, so she could understand what had just happened to her. Then her hurriedly took her out of the room and over to the waiting Ken.
Ken was standing under the bleachers, with two beautiful, nude sex slaves. Each had a leather collar around their necks, and an air brushed brand on their shaved pubic mound. He had claimed them at the unsold slave office. Rose and Julie had volunteered to be sex slaves in Fred’s compound again this year.
Fred handed Ken the leash to Doris, and hurried back into the bleachers. He did not want to miss bidding on number 12.
The bidding was livelier that Fred had thought it would be. But finally, he managed to out bid the woman he had scene fondling the slave before the auction.
On his way to the branding room, he gave Ken a high five as he walked by. Ken was all grins. Probably not because Fred had just been successful in buying the last slave they need to make two matched sets, but because he had the three leashed slaves standing in the position, and was taking all the liberties he wanted with their displayed bodies.
Fred ducked back into the dark heat of the branding room. He was a little annoyed with the guards this time, though. They were taking their time with this slave, making sure they got to rub her everywhere they wanted. And Fred noticed there was a larger audience than usual. And no wonder. The stretched slave on the rack was truly magnificent.
Fred and Mary and the rest where in a good mood as the exited the amphitheatre. Fred and not been successful in buying the male slave Mary wanted, but promised her that he would find her another.
The group walked up to the line of four nude, branded, collared, and leashed slaves. Ken had the slaves standing in the position of a sex slave; hands clasped behind the head, elbows back, chest out, stomach in, feet spread.
Fred and everyone in the group admired this year’s stock, and he watched as Rita knowingly fondled Julie’s tits, and then squeezed one of her nipples between her thumb and forefinger as hard as she could. Julie did not move, but tilted her head back slightly, and squeezed her eyes shut under the pain. Fred flashed back on the scene these two had put on last year on the St. Andrews cross, and his cock jumped in anticipation of this year.
Fred was glad to get back in the coolness of the compound. He knew it would be a long night, and was planning on lounging around the rest of the day, maybe even take a nap. The silence of the afternoon has interrupted as Ken’s slapper went to work on one of the slaves, and Fred heard everyone on the compound laugh a little, someone even commented out loud.

End of Story