Alice: Slave at the Marketplace (4 page)

Samuel looks at me deadpan. “You know, just
because I gave you an inch, you don’t have to take my whole leg.
Just come with me.” His tone is sterner. It is as if he made an
internal decision to play hardball with me.

I wonder if I should immediately become
contrite. Then I decide: no. I have been toeing the line for too
long. It’s time to test the waters and see how far I will go.

We exit the tent. Outside, the sun is shining
brightly over the festivities. There are even more stalls open now,
selling hot dogs, ice-cream (some in the shape of phalluses) and
hamburgers. A kebab stall with roasting lamb on a huge vertical
spit emits a wonderful aroma that makes my mouth water. The
hardboiled egg I had was obviously not enough to satiate my
hunger.

Samuel observes me eyeing the kebab stall
longingly. “You’re hungry.”

I want to snap “Obviously!” But I decide to
be polite.

“Yes,” I say in a wistful tone.

He grins. “OK, I’ll buy you a kebab. But only
because you need the fuel to undergo what will come next.”

Now he has got me simultaneously worried and
piqued.

“What will come next?” I ask again, my
stomach growling.

For answer, he merely flashes me a mysterious
smile and forks over four pounds to the vendor at the kebab stall.
Up close, the slowly turning meat is even more tempting. The
radiating heat makes my skin flush.

The vendor is Middle Eastern, and he looks me
up and down. He probably knows that I am one of the ‘girls’
servicing the customers inside the tents. He hands me the piping
hot meat wrapped up in a falafel.

I take it eagerly and bite into it. I have
never tasted anything so good in my life. The only thing about
these English portions that I find wanting is that they are too
small. Far smaller than anything I could get in America, and I’m
left hungry most of the time.

“Let’s walk while you eat,” Samuel says.

I trudge after him as I take big bites from
my lamb falafel. Along the way, I take in the sights. There is a
large grassy area cordoned off by a white picket fence. The
‘horses’ inside are strapped to two-wheel buggies – two naked young
men to one buggy.

The ‘horses’ are naked with their tails
stuffed into their asses in the usual manner. Their nipples are
clamped with little bells and they wear their customary lariats
around their necks. Their feet are shod with black boots. They eye
me curiously as I pass.

A sign outside the gate proclaims:

BUGGY RIDE:

Ten minutes – 50 pounds

Twenty minutes – 100 pounds

Add on whip – 100 pounds

I remember my sojourn as a beast of burden
during the billionaire parade and I shudder. I never want to pull a
chariot in my entire life ever again.

We come to a little bridge over a small brook
and cross it. A sign says: ‘BE READY TO HAVE YOUR MIND BLOWN.
EXHIBITIONISM PERMITTED.’

The attractions on the other side are more
risqué now, with more nudity in sight for the customers. The
patrons are now going bare-breasted and bare-buttocked.

A small field boasts both ‘horses’ and
‘rabbits’. Here, it’s a free for all. A sign says: ‘FUCK WHAT YOU
CAN CATCH FOR TWO HUNDRED POUNDS’. There is a customer line of
about ten deep for this – with both men and women in various states
of undress. In the field itself, naked patrons are in the midst of
running after the squealing rabbits and thundering horses. Some
have actually caught their prey and are in the middle of fucking
them in various positions.

To my right, a carousel parades the human
‘horses’. The young men are all strapped to several seats, which
are in turn attached to poles which move up and down as they go on
the roundabout. The men are all naked with their penises sticking
into the air.

A ‘ride’ constitutes impalement by these
rigid cocks. Customers – both female and male – are attached to
these cocks as they make their merry-go-round. Faces are contorted
in the throes of passion as bodies squirm and limbs writhe around
each other. The vertical movement only serves to enhance the ‘being
fucked’ experience for the customers.

I finish my falafel.

“Still hungry?” Samuel asks.

“Thirsty,” I say.

“Then let me buy you a drink.”

He stops at a lemonade stall. I hardly see
those anymore, but then I guess I hardly go to small towns back
home and I hardly mingle with children. The lemonade trickles down
a little fountain shaped in the form of a woman’s white bust.

The vendor grins at me lasciviously. “My, my.
Aren’t you a tall cool drink of water? Maybe you can show me your
tits?” he suggests.

I stick out a tongue at him as Samuel pays
for a tall cool class of lemonade. I feel like a kid again as I
turn my back on the vendor and gulp all of it down my parched
throat.

“Let’s go,” Samuel says.

Actually, I don’t mind staying around these
grounds to take in more sights. I have never been to such a
marketplace, for sure, and I wonder what it would be like as a
paying customer instead of a slave.

Further down is a large stall, like in a
carnival, where a sign says: ‘100 pounds for 3 throws. Fuck what
you can loop!’ Here, male and female slaves are placed
strategically amid rubber tires and other objects. They are all in
different positions – some crouching, some standing up and tied to
stakes, others lying down.

The men have one thing in common. All their
dicks are sticking up into the air. Impressive erections, every one
– further maintained by a cock ring at the bases of each penis. The
girls all have rods stuck in either their vaginas or assholes.
These rods are also vertically sticking up into the air or are at
angles.

Customers are lined up, waiting to throw
colored hoops around these rods – either the fleshy ones or
artificial. A big man at the middle of the barrier manages to loop
one around a penis to the applause of people around him.

We walk further.

A large wooden wall comes up. Holes are cut
into this wall at groin level, and at each hole, pussies and
assholes are displayed. Naked men are all lined up, fucking one of
the orifices displayed at these holes.

As we walk on, I can see what is on the other
side of this wall. The ‘rabbits’ are all crouched on a long bench
which raises their asses to the level of the holes. Their asses are
pressed to these holes, and their faces are contorted as the
customers avidly fuck them from the other side of the wall.

We finally come to a barricaded wooden
enclosure. I can hear a bellowing from inside. It is the voice of
an enraged human male. Additionally, there is the swell of voices –
chattering, murmuring, whispering to one another.

There are huge gates in the midst of this
enclosure, but Samuel leads me in a circuit to the back.

“Where are we going?” I wonder.

“This is where you stop off,” Samuel says
with a grin.

6

There is also a back gate, albeit a much
smaller pair than the one in front. Samuel opens one half of the
gates for me.

“What are you waiting for?” He jerks his
head.

With trepidation, I enter through the wooden
gates of the enclosure. The wooden walls surrounding this place are
eight feet high and I can’t see beyond them, but in addition to the
roar of the human male inside, I can hear a sea of voices murmuring
and tittering among each other.

“What’s in here?” I say anxiously.

The bellowing continues. I recognize the
voice from somewhere, but I can’t be sure.

“An old friend of yours,” Samuel says.

Inside, the gates open to a little boxlike
room lighted by a single yellow bulb. The air here smells musty.
The whole thing gives me the impression of the waiting room of a
gladiator ring. Even the atmosphere glowers with anticipation.

Samuel takes off my cloak. Underneath, I am
naked.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I ask. My
pulse is beginning to accelerate. I don’t have a good feeling about
this.

“You are going to fulfill your rugged
Australian customer’s fantasies.”

“And what exactly are those?”

The little room appears to be barricaded from
whatever is out there by a single flimsy door. A cry of pure rage
pierces through the thin wood.

OK. I know who it is out there now. I
encountered him briefly – albeit from afar – when I first came to
the farm. It is the blond giant called Fury – the one who is so
filled with his namesake that I thought him more beast than man. I
remember how he looked at me when I passed his pasture: as if he
was marking me for his own.

I shudder with barely repressed terror. I
also remember the thrill of desire I felt for him and his long,
extremely thick cock.

But Fury is a rabid animal. What will he do
to me? And how does this involve my Australian suitor? What kind of
sex fantasy is this?

Samuel opens the door.

“My advice to you? When you get out there,
run as much as you can before you are caught. Fury is extremely
rough unless he is tired out. Good luck.”

*

Samuel pushes me out of the door before I can
register what is happening. The bright sun shrinks my pupils after
my brief sojourn in the dark waiting room. The space beyond is
indeed an amphitheater, with stone benches for the spectators. I am
reminded of the track I had to run chariot races on for the
billionaires. Except then, there were only a handful of them.

Here, the entire amphitheater is filled with
customers, both men and women. Some are in various states of
undress, like outside, so it really reminds me of an ancient Roman
gladiator ring where nudity is common.

At my appearance, everyone perks up.

Fury is in the middle of the ring. The ring
itself is filled with sawdust and bare, grassy ground. Fury is as I
remembered him – well over six feet six inches tall, completely
naked and as hung as a horse.

He is magnificent.

His face is red, as though he has been
through strenuous activity. His chest is heaving in and out, and
his muscles are oh-so-incredibly well-sculpted. Every ounce of him
oozes masculinity and aggression. He would not be out of place in a
combat movie involving ancient Greeks.

As for his scrotum, it is pierced on either
side with two brass rings. His monstrous penis is further made
engorged by a brass cock ring which circles it at its base. The
incredible cock rises like a flagpole from the nest of wiry pubic
hair at his crotch. Like me, he is a natural blond.

That cock now points at me like an accusing
and menacing finger. Maybe it’s a beacon as to what will happen to
me next.

I still can’t put my finger on what makes him
so angry all the time. Did they pump him full of hormones or
steroids or something? Is he genetically altered?

“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrhhh!” Fury screams at the
crowd.

I can’t help but cringe.

I am the only one in the ring beside Fury. As
soon as he spots me, his body tenses like a cougar’s. The audience
takes note and sits up in expectation. Fury’s focus on me is
intense, and I can feel his concentration radiating on me like a
laser point of energy.

I whimper despite myself.

I turn to the door and try the handle
desperately, but it is locked. I pivot back to Fury. My back is
against the door. All my alarm bells are ringing. What do I do?
That I will be taken roughly in front of all these people is a
given. But will I be able to handle the extremely brutal sex that
will follow?

Run
, whispers my better voice.

Fury’s feet are bare, but his legs bunch and
he unleashes himself at me. As he dives straight for me like an
arrow, I run. The audience cheers, as if I am a Christian sacrifice
to be fed to the lion.

To be honest, I don’t know where to run. The
ring is a circle, and I can only run around it. Fury lets out a
roar and runs after me, trying to block me off. But I feint and
dart. My tits jiggle as I thump upon the ground. He chases me
again. I am a good runner. When I was in high school, I was on the
track team. I am lighter and more agile than Fury.

But what he isn’t in the speed department, he
makes up for in sheer power. His very erect cock probably encumbers
his movements, just as my bouncing tits are an obstacle. My tits
have started to fill up with milk again a while back, and they are
heavy and weighted.

On and on we run, the crowd cheering. So far,
I have kept to the circumference, near to the audience, which is
barricaded from the ring by a thin iron railing. He tries to cut me
off several times by stopping and reversing, but I still elude his
grasp.

Tire him out,
was Samuel’s advice.

But he doesn’t seem to be tiring! In fact, it
is me who is starting to tire because of everything I have been
through this morning, and also because of the lack of food I have
been getting. I just don’t have enough energy to keep this up.

I don’t know how long we have been running,
but the sun is beating very harshly down on top of my head, and my
neck and the valley between my breasts are slick with sweat. The
crowd is in the shade, and I catch sight of naked slaves walking
down the aisles, selling hotdogs and crisps and beer, just as
though we are at a baseball game.

Finally, I stumble over an uneven patch of
ground.

I fall splat on my face even though I throw
out my arms to block my fall. The impact judders my entire body and
sends electricity shooting up my spine.

Ooof!

The wind is completely knocked out of me. My
mouth tastes of sawdust. Before I realize what is happening, Fury
is upon me with a roar of delight.

“No!” I cry out.