FULFILLING THE FANTASY X
by Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)
The sightseeing in Nicaragua proved beautiful and interesting, about as different from the sordidness of Leon's slave markets to make you wonder if you were even in the same country. Of course, we were sheltered from the realities of Nicaragua once we were given the opportunity to shop for slaves the very first day.. The starving populace was kept out of viewing distance; all our food and drink was provided by the crew of the Fantasia, and our tour buses and guides were all supplied by the government - a government that obviously saved their very best for visiting guests. The buses were reasonably new and spotlessly clean; the tour guides all spoke faultless English, were well-fed from the looks of them, and immaculately costumed in colorful native outfits. Everyone was in a great mood reflecting on the big harvest of new slaves they had bought just yesterday at incredibly low prices, even now being fed extra rations to start the fattening process and then ringed, teethed, and castrated back in the hold of the ship according to the specifications set by their new owners in order to achieve optimal resale value.
But soon the Fantasia left the harbor at Leon to start the long trek to the next port, the Kiribati Islands in the South Pacific, thousands of miles away. During the long period at sea, the hold was busy around the clock. Almost all of the Nicaraguan purchases were having all their teeth pulled by the veterinarian dentist who then fitted them with dentures, many were being castrated or having a large ring placed through the end of their penis by the veterinarian on board, many were having rings installed through their tits (and for some, their nose) and then welded shut, and everyone, without exception, was being fitted with a new collar identifying their new owner. The slave handlers were kept busy getting everyone caged and re-caged during these operations, making sure the extra food allotments were being doled out to those so ordered to receive it, along with the B-12 shots and then making sure the new slaves were holding down the nutriment without complications. They knew that slaves often had trouble digesting after not being fed for a long time and diarrhea was just one common problem in this area until their body adjusted to processing food once again. Those being castrated or ringed had to receive regular injections of antibiotics until they were fully healed. In addition to all of that, some of the new slaves were essentially virginal, and consequently their new owners had ordered butt plugs be fitted in them to start the stretching process. All of this took time and at the end of each day, the handlers were often exhausted and tired and often took it out on the caged slaves who caught the end of a whip quite a bit even when they were in such pain from the body modifications it was doubtful they felt the whip very much.
Far above the hold, ship life was undistributed by all of this. Numerous lectures and seminars were scheduled, the entertainments were all fresh and new, and, as Mark and John got to know the other passengers better, the dinner time conversations and comradery in the bars made the days fly by. John had reactivated the schedule for room use of our own stock of slaves in the hold which had worked out so well on the long trip to Nicaragua, excluding the stock most recently purchased in Leon, giving them time to heal from the tooth extractions, castrations, and various ringings and allowing plenty of time for the starvation process to start its reversal with plentiful slave chow and vitamin shots. This time around, each of the slaves brought up from the hold knew exactly what to expect and gave every indication of thoroughly enjoying being used. Tony, our steward, claimed this wasn't an act to please us - anything beat being caged in the hold and restricted of relieving their sexual needs. Even being fucked broke the boredom and gave them a reasonable chance of occasionally being allowed to empty their swollen balls if they were lucky. Besides, Tony assured us, every slave longed to feel needed and wanted and what better proof of that than having your body serve as a source of pleasure to your owner. Tony, a slave himself who had seen it all in his short life to date, seemed to be an expert in slave psychology, repeatedly demonstrating his ability to practically read our slaves' minds.
The seminars focused on the upcoming port of the Kiribati Islands, a place so remote not one of the ship's guests had ever even heard of the place. A German colony until Germany's defeat at the end of World War II, the islands had enjoyed great prosperity as long as their phosphate deposits lasted. The Germans had developed the mines, built the processing equipment, and set up an elaborate export business that brought great wealth to them which filtered down to the Islanders. But the Germans were defeated and gone, the phosphate was all used up anyway, and, over the last 50 years the Islands had sunk into despair and resorted to what they had done before the phosphate was mined: blackbirding. Always an industrious people, the Kiribatis had once and were now again flourishing practicing their time-honored trade of "blackbirding" e.g., kidnaping and then selling various South Sea Islanders as slaves. Now they sold "blackbirds" to not only near-by Australia, their traditional market for the past two centuries, but had expanded their market internationally once they were able to also expand their sources of supply. Now "blackbirds" marketed in the Kiribati Islands included most, but not all, of the South Sea Islands, many Indonesians, some Malaysians, many Cambodians and Vietnamese, as well as thousands and thousands of the small-statured dark- skinned Keralas of Southern India. In some respects, the seminars pointed out, the markets in the Kiribati Islands were unique. Here you could find most anything you wanted that was brown-skinned and had a huge choice among those carrying the Polynesian body lines and facial features preferred by many buyers. But the Kiribatis offered no bred slaves - why bred slaves when you steal full grown ones for no money at all?
The lecturer stated that dealers wanting anything but slaves with strong Polynesian features would be disappointed as would dealers preferring slaves trained from birth to be slaves, i.e., bred slaves. He further cautioned that many of the kidnaped slaves would not be totally broken to slavery, some would still harbor resentment at their present circumstances, and almost all of the slaves there would have to be constantly restrained to prevent possible escape attempts. The mumbling in the audience made it clear many of the dealers were rapidly losing interest in the Kiribati market. Such a feeling was only amplified when subsequent lecturers previewed some of the markets we would be visiting in Asia proper, the Middle East, and Africa. By the time the Fantasia reached Kiribati, most of the ship's passengers were looking forward to the sightseeing possibilities, but very few were eager to buy up much stock - maybe a souvenir slave or so to remember the visit, but no major purchases.
When we sailed into port, the blackbirders were waiting for us and had their stock nicely displayed in stalls lining the beach for at least a mile. As the lecturer had warned, almost all offerings were Polynesian stock: well built and nicely filled out, smooth brown skin with practically no blemishes, doe-like eyes of varying colors, rather smallish sexual organs for the main part, and brown or black hair on their head with little hair on their bodies. For the main part, they were rather small, although some specimens were large framed. The women offered had nice breasts and thin waists as well as appealing faces, but we all knew Polynesians didn't hold their looks too well as they aged. The men, closely chained, had handsome faces, nicely defined bodies and unremarkable sexual equipment, but most looked decidedly resentful and rebellious, especially when they had their balls fondled and the shafts stroked in order to see how long it took to arouse them to a full erection. Their chains were so tight they could do nothing about it but curse at us and moan. When asked to expose their holes for inspection, most of the slaves had to be forced with the dealer's whips within their tightly confining chains to bend over appropriately and spread their legs wide apart to allow easy entry of our probing fingers into the anuses which were still tight and obviously unused amid fresh howls of protest and obvious curses in their own tongues which, of course, meant nothing to us. Sales were slow despite the reasonable prices and it was clear most of this stock would end up being shipped to the vast plantations of Western Australia, the traditional mass market for blackbirds and a place where escape was practically impossible since they would be worked in chain gangs there thousands of miles away from their homelands and would never again know the feeling of being unfettered.
John bought just one slave that day: a 20-year-old boy from Vietnam who had distinctive bright blue eyes and, judging from his above-average muscular build and light brown coloring, a Eurasian of some type - probably a bastard child of some foreign soldier and a Vietnamese peasant woman. John bought him in that, unlike so many others at the Kiribati markets, this slave featured a long, thick organ which responded quickly to being stroked despite his deep resentment and humiliation at being pawed at in this fashion right in front of everyone. Since he was quite good looking, John thought he could be broken into sexual slavery, but admitted it would take considerable training, especially after forcing his finger up the slave's hole and finding it incredibly tight. Mark also just bought one slave as a souvenir of the visit: a small Keralan boy from South India who was coffee brown, about 16 years old, possessed delicate features that made him "cute" rather than masculine, and who had a nicely rounded ass on him with fairly good muscular definition although his sex was remarkably small. Unlike most of the other slaves up for sale, this boy seemed to be very meek and humble, even as his body was subjected to the humiliating "fingering" common in slave inspections. The dealer offering him explained the boy was from an "untouchable" caste in his home country, and would lead a life there little different from a slave anywhere else so he had experienced no trouble with him at all from the moment he was first taken. Mark thought he could be trained to service a master well with his nice butt, and would look pretty and add variety around his estate adorned only in a bright slave collar with no rings whatsoever on his body. When Mark put his finger all the way up the boy's butt, the slave squirmed and groaned and broke into tears of embarrassment and shame. It was at that point that Mark decided to have him fitted with a nose ring: it would look good on the slave and would be of considerable aid in teaching the boy how to take a deep fucking compliantly. The boy was so young, Mark thought he might take on more masculine features as he aged some, as well as gain some in muscular development, but it was hard to predict these things. Whether he did or not, Mark thought he would be an interesting ornament around his estate and John said, if the slave didn't work out satisfactorily as a good bed buck, he would be happy to sell him off at his dealership. People were always in the market for unusual looking domestic slaves, although he would probably have him cut before selling him in that domestic slaves always sold better if they were already castrated. "After all," John laughed, "he doesn't have much to loose," as he fondled the small organs being discussed.
All in all, only about 26 slaves were added to the ship's hold (and most of those female slaves) at the end of the day to the disappointment of the Kiribati dealers who were told rather bluntly their kidnaped stock lacked variety and the continuing seething resentment so evident, at least in their male holdings, was a turn-off to potential customers back in their home markets. Some encouraged the Kiribati dealers to put their time and energy into breeding slaves selectively for market rather than just kidnaping willy-nilly what they could. The extra time and capital investment, they pointed out, paid off handsomely in the long haul - only then could they consistently offer top quality, well trained slaves.
Sightseeing in the Kiribati Islands was delightful. The beaches were poster-card perfect: white sandy beaches shaded by overhanging palm trees with crystal-clear blue waters. The Fantasia had arranged a beach dinner in the early evening where the setting sun was glorious over the roaring waves. The dining room slaves brought from the ship for the occasion were thrilled to have the sand under their bare feet, the fading sun rays beating on their skin, and the strong breeze sweeping across their exposed and shaved genitals in between the groping and fondling they always received when serving a meal. When, one by one, the guests leashed their collars and began fucking them on the open beach or pushed the slaves' mouths to their own organs for a good sucking, the slaves seemed to really enjoy having their butts sinking into the sand as they were fucked or, dependent on the whims of who was using them, their hands and knees digging into the sand as their butt was pounded. For those ordered to service guests with their mouths, breathing in the fresh sea air through their noses as their mouths swallowed the organs thrust into them was a novel experience, especially as most of them were kneeling in the sand performing their oral service. Interestingly enough, most of the guests began fucking in cadence with the waves crashing onto the beach, giving a lanquid, natural quality to this sensual experience. When the guests were satiated and it was time to head back to the ship, even the dining room slaves, so heavily used all evening, were happily smiling as they packed up the left-over food and dining implements despite the fact most of them had cum oozing steadily out of their butt holes and their jaws were still sore from being stretched around all those pricks. It was just great, they figured, to be allowed to enjoy this tropical paradise here in the middle of the South Pacific, even if they were, as usual, on the receiving end of things. At least this was different and exciting.
The next day's trip to see the other islands and their volcanic outbreaks, as well as the usual bountiful supply of multi-colored tropical birds and unique small animals, was equally interesting. Crossing the short distance from one island to another was in huge outrigger canoes, manned by a batch of Kiribati blackbirds chained to their seats with a constant whip assuring their shoulders and backs were constantly in motion paddling us across the lagoons. The handmade canoes, the sweating, naked brown-skinned slaves, the Kiribati overseers with their whips of knotted palm-leaf rope in constant motion, the tall waves of beautiful clear blue water, and the white sand beaches in the background all gave a romantic, South-Sea Island allure to the day's outing. By the end of that glorious day, we were all ready to set sail for our next port - Barisal, Bangladesh.
TO BE CONTINUED
Comments appreciated. Bill Smith (anonymous4371@juno.com)