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Ebony Slave On The Market In Bagamoyo

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theseus

theseus

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I started posting this under Candy's Tale, but have decided it should have a thread of its own.


Ebony Slave on the market in Bagamoyo

I stand in the blazing sun, head up proudly, despite the humiliation and despair I feel. I am attached to a concrete pillar by a leash attached to my clit ring. My body glistens with sweat and I am aware of the smell of hot bodies and fear, mingling with the smell of frying fish from the fish market. I realise that the fish and I have a lot in common. I too am a commodity, for sale to the highest bidder!

I look around me, taking in the scene. Dhows lie waiting at the beach, naked porters, male and female, carrying loads of trade goods on their heads to and from the vessels. All bear the slave brand and the same type of ugly iron collar I now wear. Many also bear the marks of the whip.

I study the other people (objects?) on display in the market. Most are black, male and female, naked as I am. What will my fate be? To become a beast of burden, like those porters? To become somebody’s toy? To be used and abused at will?

I see that many of the slaves bear brands, clearly administered with a hot iron. I try to imagine the pain of the red-hot iron searing into my flesh, marking me indelibly as something lower than an animal! Even the dog, sniffing around my legs, pushing his nose into my crutch, has more rights than a slave!

Two clusters of white slaves catch my eye. The one group consists of a heavyset man, possibly in his early 40's. He bears the marks of a severe whipping. The woman is in her mid-30's, a slightly plump redhead. Her creamy skin is already showing the effects of the sun. Soon she will be in agony from sunburn. With them are what are clearly their children. They too, are naked, except for a string of cowrie shells around slim waists. I wonder what that signifies.

I am startled by a hand reaching between my legs! A rather greasy looking man in dirty robes is pawing at my. I start to protest, then realise that this is my fate. I grit my teeth as his fingers explore my most private parts, judging the quality of the merchandise.

ME!

I try to ignore the groping hands, distracting myself by looking at the other group of white slaves. Unlike the first group, these don't look in the least distressed, chatting and laughing among themselves.

They are a striking group!

The eldest is in her late 40's. Despite this her body is lithe and tanned, with just a bit of sag to her breasts. Her mouth is generous, with a broad smile. She has an unruly mop of black, curly hair. I notice other things about her. She carries a brand on her belly, just above her pubic mound. Like the others in the group, she wears a satin finished stainless steel collar in addition to the crude slave chains we all wear.

I wince as fingers probe my butthole.

Her nipples blaze with blue fire. Are they tipped with gems? I notice that the rest of the group also have gems in their nipples. One of the girls, a cute little blonde, bends over gracefully, revealing a glint of green fire between tight buttocks.

I am fascinated by them. So fascinated that I hardly notice the fingers probing me.

Three of the others are slender, black-haired girls in their teens. They are obviously the woman's daughters. The little blonde is clearly not related.

Suddenly she looks up, a huge grin lighting up her face! "There's daddy Theseus!" she cries.

I look in the direction of her gaze. A tall, heavily built man, well dressed and grey bearded, wearing a round cap is walking through the crowd, which parts deferentially before him. The older woman smiles hugely, then kneels to receive the man.
 

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2.

I squirmed as the fingers stretched me, becoming excited despite my disgust.

I squealed as the man tugged brutally at my nipple rings. The tall man looked toward me. Saying something to the branded slave woman, he strode through the crowd, which melted away in front of him. My tormentor, or prospective buyer, backed away, bowing deeply as he did so.


The man studied me carefully, his eyes glaring at me from under fierce eyebrows. He trailed a finger along my pussy rings, nodded and turned away, saying something to an attendant who had followed him. I was acutely aware that there had been moisture there. The attendant undid my leash, and led me over to the group of white slaves. I noticed the man moving through the market, selecting a girl here, a boy there. One of the slaves he selected was a tall, beautifully built young man. Despite myself and the predicament I found myself in, I couldn’t help but admire his physique, and the impressive equipment he sported.


Eventually there was a group of around fifty slaves gathered in a corner of the market, all personally selected by the old man. They were undoubtedly the pick of the merchandise.


The white male slave started shouting at the old man, screaming imprecations and demanding that he and his family be released. This earned him a further whipping and a gag. The redheaded woman, clearly his wife, rolled her eyes and smiled grimly.


I found myself standing next to the branded white slave. I asked her who the old man was. She looked at me, surprised by my English. “He is my husband, and until a few weeks ago he was also my owner. Now I belong to the Sultan.” She indicated the brand on her belly with a wry smile. “He does still have custody of me and the unlimited use of my body. The Sultan has no use for women, at least not their bodies, although that didn’t stop him buggering my daughter.” She indicated the youngest of the three dark haired girls. I could see how her slim, boyish body would appeal to a pederast.


“What will happen to us?” I asked her.


“We will all be shipped to Zanzibar. There you will all be registered as slaves. The Sultan is very progressive, so we will all be micro-chipped. However, he is also a traditionalist, so once you are sold, you will also be branded in the old way!” I saw her shudder as she talked about the branding. It had clearly not been a pleasant experience.


“Until you are auctioned we will be held in the slave pits in Stone Town. I believe that they are extremely unpleasant! Have you ever been whipped?”


I started, “No, of course not!”


“Then that will be a new experience for you. All slaves are whipped immediately before they are auctioned, to test their strength and endurance.”


“Your daughters? And those children?” I pointed at the redhead’s children and the blonde girl.


She smiled at me. “Candy is a real little pain slut. She would throw an immense tantrum if she weren’t whipped! For those others it will be different. Like you, they have never been kissed by the whip. Theseus has often whipped all of us. My daughters have even been known to ask for a whipping. Amy and Jenny, the eldest and youngest, even had a contest to decide which kind of whip inflicted the most pain.”


“Why? How did they become slaves?” This was all too much for me.


“I gave them to Theseus as a wedding present,” she calmly announced.


I gasped! “You gave your daughters to your husband as a wedding present? As slaves? Does he…?” I stuttered helplessly.


“Of course!” She smiled at me again. “Oh! By the way, my name is Susan.” She introduced herself as if we were at a suburban tea party. “Candy also belongs to Theseus. Her father gave her to him. She is such a lovely kid. My other daughter is called Catherine, Carrie for short.”


My mind was in a whirl. This surely couldn’t be real. We were going to be publicly displayed, whipped, sold at auction, branded, micro-chipped! This was 2012! I felt as if we had somehow been transported back 500 years. And this woman, this warm, friendly naked woman with the Sultan’s brand on her belly was cheerfully talking about all this happening to her daughters!


“And those others? The family? How did they end up here? Why are the girls wearing those strings of shells?” I had so many questions. I still didn’t quite know how I had ended up here. I had been on holiday, my first in Africa. I had woken up naked and in chains. At first I thought it was a joke being played on me. My boyfriend was into bondage. But I had not seen him since, and until I met this woman there had been nobody who spoke English.


“The shells are to show that the girls are virgins. That adds hugely to their value. Enslaving the whole family was the mother’s idea. She was tired of a vanilla relationship. Her husband had other ideas. She has the hots for her son. She wants him to take her anal cherry.”


I was no prude. I had had an active and varied sex life, and I suspected that my horizons were likely to be extended, but I was still taken aback.
 
3


Our discussion was interrupted by the crack of a whip and a scream. The guards started to herd us toward the water’s edge. I could see a large dhow sailing into the bay. It dropped anchor a little way offshore, the large singe sail dipping gracefully as it was furled. Our group of slaves was herded to a large pile of goods, crates, bundles and baskets, stacked in front of the customs house. Each slave was given a load, huge loads too large to carry in their arms. I saw the other blacks load their goods onto their heads. I stood there, puzzled at how they balanced such large loads. There was a whistle and a crack! I screamed as I felt the kiss of a whip for the first time. A guard shouted at me in their language, a language I did not understand. The whip cracked again, the tip flicking around my body to catch the side of my breast. Hurriedly, I started to lift a large basket onto my head. I noticed the whites doing the same, as awkwardly as I was. The redheaded woman now had two scarlet wheals across her shoulders. As I watched, one of her daughters tasted the whip. Tears streaming down her face, she hefted a bundle and followed the other slaves into the surf.

Surely they were not going to make us carry those loads into the surf and out to that dhow? We were all weighed down with chains! If someone fell, they would be dragged down by their chains and drowned. Slowly it dawned on me that they didn’t care! Slaves were expendable items! I struggled through the surf, desperate not to fall or drop my load. I could hear the whips crack around me, but I wasn’t struck. The water got deeper, until it reached my breasts. The water was cool, and soothed the burning sting where the whip had struck. I noticed that the smaller boys and girls were up to their necks in the water by the time they reached the dhow.

It took three trips to load the dhow. By the time I got to the dhow for the last time I was stumbling with exhaustion! I had collected three more whip marks. Once I had heaved my last load into the now heavily laden dhow, I had to drag my exhausted body, weighed down by chains, over the side. I collapsed on the non-human cargo, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. Blonde Candy moved over to give me some space. She, too, had tasted the whip. She beamed a smile at me. “Isn’t this fun! Daddy Theseus is such a great master!”
 
theseus said:
I started posting this under Candy's Tale, but have decided it should have a thread of its own.


Ebony Slave on the market in Bagamoyo

I stand in the blazing sun, head up proudly, despite the humiliation and despair I feel. I am attached to a concrete pillar by a leash attached to my clit ring. My body glistens with sweat and I am aware of the smell of hot bodies and fear, mingling with the smell of frying fish from the fish market. I realise that the fish and I have a lot in common. I too am a commodity, for sale to the highest bidder!

I look around me, taking in the scene. Dhows lie waiting at the beach, naked porters, male and female, carrying loads of trade goods on their heads to and from the vessels. All bear the slave brand and the same type of ugly iron collar I now wear. Many also bear the marks of the whip.

I study the other people (objects?) on display in the market. Most are black, male and female, naked as I am. What will my fate be? To become a beast of burden, like those porters? To become somebody’s toy? To be used and abused at will?

I see that many of the slaves bear brands, clearly administered with a hot iron. I try to imagine the pain of the red-hot iron searing into my flesh, marking me indelibly as something lower than an animal! Even the dog, sniffing around my legs, pushing his nose into my crutch, has more rights than a slave!

Two clusters of white slaves catch my eye. The one group consists of a heavyset man, possibly in his early 40's. He bears the marks of a severe whipping. The woman is in her mid-30's, a slightly plump redhead. Her creamy skin is already showing the effects of the sun. Soon she will be in agony from sunburn. With them are what are clearly their children. They too, are naked, except for a string of cowrie shells around slim waists. I wonder what that signifies.

I am startled by a hand reaching between my legs! A rather greasy looking man in dirty robes is pawing at my. I start to protest, then realise that this is my fate. I grit my teeth as his fingers explore my most private parts, judging the quality of the merchandise.

ME!

I try to ignore the groping hands, distracting myself by looking at the other group of white slaves. Unlike the first group, these don't look in the least distressed, chatting and laughing among themselves.

They are a striking group!

The eldest is in her late 40's. Despite this her body is lithe and tanned, with just a bit of sag to her breasts. Her mouth is generous, with a broad smile. She has an unruly mop of black, curly hair. I notice other things about her. She carries a brand on her belly, just above her pubic mound. Like the others in the group, she wears a satin finished stainless steel collar in addition to the crude slave chains we all wear.

I wince as fingers probe my butthole.

Her nipples blaze with blue fire. Are they tipped with gems? I notice that the rest of the group also have gems in their nipples. One of the girls, a cute little blonde, bends over gracefully, revealing a glint of green fire between tight buttocks.

I am fascinated by them. So fascinated that I hardly notice the fingers probing me.

Three of the others are slender, black-haired girls in their teens. They are obviously the woman's daughters. The little blonde is clearly not related.

Suddenly she looks up, a huge grin lighting up her face! "There's daddy Theseus!" she cries.

I look in the direction of her gaze. A tall, heavily built man, well dressed and grey bearded, wearing a round cap is walking through the crowd, which parts deferentially before him. The older woman smiles hugely, then kneels to receive the man.
Click to expand...
Is she for me?
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4.

I said something inaudible, struggling to get comfortable on the cargo. It was clear we would have no shelter on our voyage. What lay in wait for me? Where would I end up? Sold to be a drudge? A whore? A bedslave?

The heat, the movement of the dhow and exhaustion lulled me into sleep despite my uncomfortable bed. Candy had found a comfortable hole in the cargo and was also fast asleep. I was woken by hysterical screaming! I had no idea where I was and it was only when my chains restricted my movement that I remembered I was on a slaving dhow, somewhere on the Indian Ocean. I registered that Candy was still fast asleep in her little nest in the cargo, then my eyes focused and I saw that the crew had collected together all the other white slaves. They were busy beating the male slave into submission, while the redhead, held by two of them, screamed for them to stop.

Susan and her daughters were kneeling in a row on the deck. The other two girls were standing to one side with their brother, their chains secured to the mast. I stared as one of the crew opened his robes and exposed his cock. Susan leaned forward and took the thing into her mouth. Soon all four of them were busily sucking cocks! I hoped that the strings of shells would, indeed protect the girls.

Having beaten the man into submission, the crew bent the redhead over a barrel, tying her there. She was whimpering, until the cook appeared with some cooking oil that he poured down her butt crack. A moment later the captain thrust his cock into her virgin ass!

“No!!!!” She screamed. “No!!! It wasn’t meant to be like this! No!!!! Oh god! It hurts! It wasn’t meant to be like this!!!” She was sobbing hysterically as the captain reamed her ass. There was a queue forming behind him as others waited their turn at her creamy ass.

I remembered Susan telling me that slavery was her idea and that she had wanted her son to take her anal cherry. I tried to be unobtrusive, hoping that they wouldn’t notice me, until I realised that they were only after the white women.

It took a long time before the men were sated. Eventually all that I could hear was the sobbing of the redhead, still tied over the barrel. Susan stumbled over to where I was lying, her face and body covered in cum.

“What happened to Candy?” She asked. I pointed at the sleeping girl between the bales. Susan gave me a cummy smile. “She will be so pissed to have missed that!”
 
5

We slept. The sun beating down woke me. The air was filled with the fragrant smell of spice, overlaying the smells of sweat and fear coming from the cargo. I saw that he dhow was slowly approaching land, a city was ahead of us, dominated by a fort and very large building, a palace. The crew were dropping the sail, and soon the boat was at anchor.

We slaves were ordered over the side, encouraged by the fiery lick of the whips. The water was almost shoulder deep. The small ones would barely have their noses above water! Susan jumped in, going completely under water. I panicked, thinking she would drown! Then I saw her scrubbing her face and body in the water, removing as much of the dried cum as she could. I handed Candy down to her, then plunged in. The water was tepid, like a bath that is getting cold. Susan’s daughters joined us as we waded ashore. I saw that they were also trying to clean themselves. Susan smiled at me. “We have to look good for the crowds, after all.”

On the beach the slaves were crowded together while the slavers connected our neck rings with short lengths of chain. Susan was not chained like the rest of us. Again I noticed that the slavers treated her with a certain deference.

Waiting in the sun, I asked her how she had become the property of the Sultan.

“The Sultan bought me from Theseus so that I could become his advisor. He is a former student of Theseus’ and when they were discussing the coming independence of Zanzibar I suggested a solution to the country’s economic sustainability. I was whipped for my impertinence, but later he bought me. Theseus was made an Emir, ranking just below the Sultan.”

“What was your solution to the country’s economy?” I asked.

She gave me her slow, wide smile, looking around at the slaves being shackled together. “Us!” She said. “I suggested the re-introduction of slavery here.”

“Surely the world does not accept this?” I asked desperately.

Again that smile. “It was all very carefully negotiated. The world needs a place where people can live out their fantasies. This is it! Once we have been processed we will cease to exist as human beings. We will officially be declared dead. The UN has adopted a resolution to this effect. Even if we were to go back to the States, we would be processed through customs as chattels. That is why we have to be microchipped! We are now property!”

I stared at her, speechless!

Our huddle of slaves had been herded into a small square dominated by a huge fig tree. The square was surrounded by imposing buildings on three sides. The open side looked out over the sea. Also in the square was a boatyard. The chief boatbuilder was a grizzled old man, who looked us over with a professional eye. His assistants were young, strong men, almost naked, and coated in sweat in the tropical heat. Their stares were blatantly lustful. One of them spoke to the old man, who approached the chief slaver. I heard the clink of coins. The slaver shouted in their language, of which I understood nothing. The next thing I knew, a slaver had grabbed me by the arm and hurled me forward. I was brought up short by the chain attached to my neck ring, and stumbled to my knees. A whip burned across my shoulders.

The slavers assumed that because I was black I could understand their language. I had no idea what they wanted of me. The young boatbuilder strode toward me, grinning broadly. Stopping in front of me, he undid his loincloth. I didn’t need to understand the language to know what he wanted! They couldn’t do this to me! Not here, in a public square! With hundreds of people; men, women and children, watching! Then I remembered the scene on the dhow, the screams of the redhead, the humble submission of Susan and her daughters. I was going to have to suck this cock, thick and smelly as it was! Here, in a public place.

The head pressed against my lips. Chained as I was, I couldn’t even use my hands on it. Slowly, unwillingly, I opened my mouth.

He was young, eager, urgent as a young bull! He filled my mouth and my throat, almost choking me! I struggled desperately to breathe! I was no virgin, I normally enjoyed oral sex, but this was so different. There was no love or affection here. I was merely a hot hole for him to stick his cock into!

Mercifully quickly, I felt his cock swell as he was about to cum. At the last moment he pulled out, spraying thick ropes of cum over my face, my hair, into my eyes. He wiped his cock on my hair, then tucked his cock away and strolled back to his work.

I knelt there, cum dripping from my chin onto my breasts. As I was whipped back into line, I realised I was going to have to walk through the town like this, my face covered in cum, my hands unable to reach my face to clean it. My one eye was completely filled with cum, so that I couldn’t see from it at all.

Susan came over to me. Although she was chained, she had not been connected by a neck chain. “Be strong, dear,” she whispered. Her tongue lapped at my cum-filled eye, cleaning it. There was an angry shout from the slaver, and his whip cracked across her back and breasts. I smiled at her thankfully, grateful for this small act of kindness, carried out at such a cost in pain to her.
 
6.

The whips cracked, and our pitiful coffle moved through the narrow streets of the town. Often the alleys were so narrow that my shoulders almost brushed the walls of the houses and shops. Ahead of me I saw the redhead hobbling painfully. The coral paving was hard on bare feet unused to walking on rough surfaces. She was clearly sore after her brutal introduction to anal sex. Her once creamy skin was now a fiery red with sunburn, and clearly showed the marks of the whip. Her daughters walked bravely behind her, weighed down by their chains, and seeming unaware of the lustful looks directed at them. Sharon’s daughters walked gracefully, their tall, slender bodies swaying. It was clear that they had spent much of their time in the nude, training out in the open. Candy skipped along behind Jenny, whose pert bottom was tempting even to me.

A graceful young woman in a full burkah squeezed past me. Her eyes, all I could see behind the concealing garment, met mine for moment, flashing a look of pity at me. I was acutely aware of my naked, nipple-ringed breasts, my exposed, pierced labia. I longed for the concealment of her burkah!

It was hot in the alleys. Little air moved in the confined space. Sweat poured down our bodies. I could smell my own body, and those of my fellow slaves. Slaves! I was a slave! The reality was slowly taking hold! I was an object to be bought and sold, used and abused. I was not even considered human! Surely this bad dream would end soon!

I stumbled over a rock, bruising my foot. The pain was very real. This was not a dream. Not even a nightmare! This was horrible reality!

We seemed to walk for hours. We had had nothing to eat or drink for more than a day. I realised that with all the sweating I must be dehydrated. We emerged into another square, bordered on one side by a stream. The coffle halted. Slaves dropped to their knees, plunging their faces into the stream. My chains didn’t allow me to bring my hands to my face. Like an animal I plunged my face into the warm, scummy water, sucking in deep draughts. Wryly I thiought of the bottled water I drank at the resort, how I even avoided ice cubes in my drinks in case they might have been made from contaminated water. Now I was sucking in this mess, where people and animals walked and drank, where garbage was dumped. This was how low I had sunk!

All too soon we were driven on, heading toward the tall minarets of a mosque. The faint smell of roasting meat made my empty stomach rumble. We entered another open area, crowded with people.
 
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