Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

When I came to, I thought I'd been dropped into an Arabian nights film set, if a rather seedy one. The room was stone-walled with a vaulted ceiling and high-off-the-floor, heavily barred arched windows. Although the furnishings, such as they were, were composed entirely of oriental carpets and a scattering of large, damask-covered pillows, the Arabian nights theme hit me because I had been bathed and powdered and perfumed and was only wearing diaphanous, billowy harem pants and lace-up sandals. I also had gold serpent bracelets banded around above each of my biceps and around my ankles.

I wasn't alone. There were three other guys, all of Middle Eastern extraction lying around on the pillows too, each with the same wary, scared expression I knew I had, and each dressed, or, should I say, undressed, in the same manner as I was. And at the four corners of the room stood four guys looking like thugs and wearing Egyptian caftans. All were muscle men. Three were obviously Mideasterners; the fourth looked European. The European stepped forward and addressed me.

"Good. You're back with us. Good timing. They will send for you soon."

"They?" I asked. "Where am I and what am I doing here?"

"You're here for the auction," he said, and then he gave me a sardonic little smile.

"What? What the hell," I asked. "I'm not interested in any auction . . . what's being auctioned?"

"You're not a buyer," he answered, and I thought he'd break out into a laugh. "You're what's being auctioned."

"Good joke," I responded. "Now, really, what's going on. People can't be auctioned in this day and age. Slavery's dead, haven't you heard?"

"It isn't dead here in Egypt. You're in Cairo. And, Caucasian to Caucasian, let me strongly suggest that you convince the auctioneer he wants to keep you. I can guarantee you won't want to go with any of the other men who are at today's auction."

The European briefly explained while we were being herded down the narrow, stone-walled passageway what was going to happen now. We would be sent in, one by one, into an entertainment room where we would see five men spread in a semicircle around a small platform stage, reclining on pillows. There would be music and we were to dance for them. If we danced well, one of the men might bid on us. If we didn't, we possibly were living our last day. The men could take their purchases away and do whatever they wished with them.

A small, lithe, but well-built Lebanese young man was sent in first. We all stood out in the corridor, waiting our turn, as we heard the music begin. Shortly, we heard the raised voices of men, bidding enthusiastically. Then a period of silence.

I was the second one to be sent in. Four men were sitting in a semicircle around the spotlighted platform I was led to and made to stand on. I had been told that there would be five, but as my eyes adjusted to the contrast of the spotlight in which I stood and shadowy, smoke-filled edges around the platform, I saw that buyer number five was already trying out his purchase over on a pillow-strewn divan at the side of the room. The young Lebanese man who had preceded me was on his belly on the divan, half on and half off it. A large-bellied, middle-aged Egyptian, caftan lifted up around his armpits was crouched between the young man's legs, already ready to mount him.

I tore my eyes away from that scene and looked back at the four remaining men. Three of them were pretty gross, fat and middle-aged and ugly. The fourth one was younger and more comely and well-muscled. He showed that he was in charge by gesturing for the music to start.

This was where I was supposed to dance and, the European captor's warning ringing in my ears, convince the auctioneer, obviously the younger, more presentable of the men, that he wanted to keep me. I started to undulate with the music, never having been a dancer before, but being a dancer now for dear life.

I was egged on by the cries from the side of the room, where the older man was slapping the young Lebanese man hard now, on face, arms, legs, and buttocks, while he drove his cock inside a barely ready hole. The older man had the younger man by the hair with one fist now, and he reached for a riding crop with the other. The cries from the younger man rose and the expressions of the three older men watching me dance—whose eyes were flicking at the fucking at the side and then back at me—left no doubt of how this combination aroused them. They all had hands inside their caftans.

I could see interest in the eyes of the younger man, but not yet a "sold" sign.

In panic, I pulled out all of the stops. I danced, but I danced only for this younger man, the man holding all of the power. While I danced, I traced my cock through the diaphanous fabric, leaving little to the imagination of what I had in there and that it was getting hard, hard for the younger man among the bidders. I had had much practice in getting hard for men I didn't desire, and I brought all of that art to play here. By the time I had pushed the front of the harem pants below my ball sack and shown what I had and was stroking it, I could tell I had sold the younger man. He had his caftan open and his hand was in his lap and he was stroking himself too.

I heard him cry out one word in Arabic. He had raised a hand—the one not teasing his cock—in the air, and the music stopped immediately.

The other three had been no less impressed and aroused with my dance as he was. The fifth bidder was much too busy ravishing his purchase off to the side to care what was happening in the center of the room. And the young Lebanese man's cries and screams had decreased to whimpers and groans as his new master continued to beat and to fuck him roughly.

There was a cacophony of sound as the three older bidders went into overdrive, trying to assert their bid for me over all others. But the younger man cut them all off, and I discerned, to my temporary, partial relief, that he had withdrawn me from the bidding. I was led over to the side of the chamber and chained with metal cuffs to a ring in the stone wall.

I watched then as the two remaining captives were auctioned off. The one loser of all bids stood in a semi huff, a sour expression on his face, and left through a doorway behind a tapestry hanging. One of the other bidders led off his new slave through that door as well. But the last one started enjoying his purchase on the pillows on which he had been sitting. And I could see that he was going to be as cruel as the first master, who was still enjoying himself at that other side of the room.

The younger man, the auctioneer, walked over to me, undid the chains that had attached me to the wall, and, with me still handcuffed, led me through yet a different doorway behind a tapestry that led directly into an opulently furnished Oriental-style chamber with stone walls, high clerestory windows that let in filtered sunlight, and a gurgling pool in the center, complete with central fountain of a young boy pissing water into the pool.

The man released me from handcuffs, then disrobed, showing a magnificent body and good-sized cock, and sank down into the pool. He waved to me, and I stripped down my harem pants and unlaced my sandals, which apparently was what he wanted me to do, and also slipped into the pool. The man had lifted himself to a sitting position on the side of the pool and I swam to him and took his cock in my mouth and started working all of the wiles I could think of on him. I was fully in his control now. I knew it and he knew it, and I wanted him to want me—for him to always want for there to be a next time. No matter how long it took. No matter how much time it took me to escape from here.

I could tell that my willingness and the mastery of my attentions were very arousing to him. He came almost immediately after becoming rock hard.

He lifted me out of the pool with the strength of his arms then and guided me over to a nearby pillow-strewn divan and laid me down on my back. Then he showed me that he was a master of lovemaking too. He handcuffed me again to rings at the side of the head of the divan on each side. Putting his knees between my spread thighs, he lowered his face onto my torso and tongued and kissed all over my body. And I sighed and moaned for him, not all of it being an act, but all of it focused on pleasing him.

I was laying there, on my back, my legs spread and him sitting on the edge of the divan between my legs. The touching had stopped, and I looked up to see that he had a huge ivory phallus in his hand. He was rubbing oil all over it. And then there were oiled fingers at my hole too, opening me up. I whimpered as I saw that phallus descend, and the bulbous cap of it was at my hole. I cried out and arched my back as the bulb invaded my canal, stretching me wide. He put a palm on my belly and pressed down as he pushed the oiled phallus in another couple of inches. I widened my stance as much as I could and lifted one of my legs to hook on his shoulder at the ankle. He turned his face to the muscle of my calf and kissed and licked me there . . . as the phallus sank in a couple of more inches.

I was panting and moaning and the phallus kept creeping up into me. When it had bottomed, perhaps nearly a foot inside me, the man lowered his mouth onto my cock and started to suck me, pushing his tongue as far as he could into my piss slit. He also slowly pumped me with the ivory phallus, keeping up the same rhythm he was using with his lips on my cock. It didn't take me long to come.

Then he removed the phallus, uncuffed me, turned me, forced a couple of pillows under my belly to raise my buttocks to me, and fucked me long and slowly until he had ejaculated.

Leaving me and rising off the divan, he clapped his hands and two of the thug guards entered and bundled me back to the room I had started in, which was now deserted. There was a dinner tray waiting for me, and then the guards left and I was alone, counting myself lucky. I decided I must thank the European for the advice he had given me if he ever showed up again—and perhaps if I could weave my thanks around him, I could find some means of escape through him.