This entry is part 2 of 3 in the series Slave Auction

“I could have fun training you, dear heart.” The man mused in a high-pitched cultured voice.

Much to Sam’s embarrassment, his penis twitched and began to stiffen. This caused the man to chuckle again. He shook his head. “You’re a bit small.” He said sounding disappointed. Never the less his eyes twinkled as he continued to gently fondle Sam’s genitals for a minute or so before moving away.

Small? What’s he on about? Sam though, his manhood oddly affronted. I’m six inches soft and more than seven hard! What does he mean, small?

A couple of women appeared in front of him again, one of them being the blonde from earlier. “Changing your preferences, Winnie?” Her shorter companion enquired bitchily. “I didn’t think you were into boys.”

The tall blonde snorted. “I was thinking more along the lines of entertainment…” But the look on her face told Sam that her interest was anything but innocent. Her head turned slowly until her gaze fell on Rachel: she smiled again.

People began to circulate more purposefully and several of them could be seen writing things down on small squares of card. Each card was then slipped into an envelope and placed on one of the podiums; some of which acquired five or six while others only one, or in Sam’s case: none. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, but then it hit him with the force of a truck and he experienced genuine fear. What happens if no one wants me?

He watched as the tall blonde woman returned, wrote on a card and then inserted it into an envelope which she placed on Rachel’s’ podium. At least someone fancies her! He thought as a weird pang of jealousy suddenly lanced through him.

The man returned, looked at Sam for a few seconds before shaking his head, turning and walking stiffly towards the door. Suddenly he stopped and walked back to Sam, and smiled in a kindly way. “How old are you, sonny? And please call me ‘Daddy’.”

Sam hesitated but there was another of the cat-girls hovering just behind the man. “I was nineteen last week… Daddy.” He managed to force out.

‘Daddy’ positively beamed as he hurriedly scribbled something onto a card. “Poor baby, no one else seems to wants you…! Such pretty blonde hair, too!” He muttered wistfully as he slipped the card into an envelope before dropping it onto Sam’s podium.

“We’ll have such fun together, baby boy”. He said as he reached out to gently grasp Sam’s penis once more before bending down to kiss it. Sam shuddered which caused the man to giggle and although he straightened up, he didn’t let go of the lad’s organ for almost a minute.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” Boss-Lady cut through the gentle murmur of voices… “…time is moving on so please place your bids.”

There was a final flurry of activity which rapidly died down and when Sam happened to glance down he saw that a second envelope had appeared on his podium and as neither of the other men had come close, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Please step away from the lots, ladies and gentlemen,” The Boss-Lady instructed, “and we will determine which of you has been successful.” Then slowly but in a determined manner she made her way over to the empty space in front of the blonde standing on podium one. As this was the highlight of the proceedings she took her time and as far as Sam was concerned, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

She reached down and picked up the two envelopes then proceeded to open them. She made a show of reading both cards and of considering the bids before looking up and smiling. “Buyer ‘D’ has taken ownership Lot 1 with a bid of £25,750. Congratulations, Antonia, I am sure that she will bring you lots of pleasure.”

As she spoke, one of the cat-girls used a marker pen to draw a large red letter ‘D’ on the blonde’s shoulder. The blonde did not look particularly happy about the proceedings but sensibly remained quiet.

Somewhere in the small crowd, Antonia received congratulations from several others and glares from a couple more. Attention then moved on to the brunette on podium two who was knocked down to one of the men for £18,500.

Podium three’s inhabitant seemed to be very popular, the Boss-Lady examined the five bids before announcing that Buyer ‘J’ was now the woman’s proud owner subject to a payment of £45,900. The next three lots were dealt with without any difficulty but Lot ‘7’ caused something of a minor problem. The bid was opened and examined… “Oh, dear!” Boss said in a theatrically sad voice. “The single bid was conditional upon the client failing on previous lots.” Boss looked up. “Dawn, I believe that you were successful in acquiring Lot Five?”

A woman at the back of the crowd answered with a brusque nod.”

“I then declare Lot Seven to be unsold. Do I hear ‘reserve’?” The woman that Sam so far knew only as ‘Boss’ enquired.

“Reserve!” Snapped an Asian woman from somewhere in the crowd.

“Sold to Buyer ‘H’ for £15,000, and a bargain she is too!”

There were no more dramas and eventually the proceedings reached Rachel who was known to the crowd only as ‘Lot Eleven’. The Boss picked up the single envelope, opened it then frowning, announced that the redhead now conditionally belonged to Buyer ‘E’ subject to a payment of £10,000 and certain provisions being met.

The tall blonde smiled happily and moved over to stand near her property and it was now Sam’s turn. For some reason The Boss decided to make a performance of his sale. Slowly she bent down and retrieved the two envelopes from his podium. “Ladies and gentlemen we will now consider the final lot which consists of this rather pretty young man.”

Sam recoiled somewhat at being called ‘pretty’ but the little man who had shown so much interest in him seemed to like the description and smiled happily adding. “Isn’t the baby-boy divine? I’m going to name him ‘Cutie-pie!”

The Welsh woman opened both envelopes and made a show of reading the bids. She looked up and gave Sam a nasty smile. “Buyer ‘G’ has bid £15,500 for the item.” The man seemed to dance a little jig of happiness. “But Buyer ‘E’ has entered a conditional bid of £21,000.”

The Boss paused, no doubt for dramatic effect.

“What are the conditions?” Enquired the man somewhat agitated as it seemed that Sam, who had suddenly become a ‘must have’, was slipping out of his grasp.

The Boss woman looked across at the tall blonde who gave her a single brusque nod. “Winnie requests that we neuter the lad. Her purchase of Lot Eleven is also subject to us carrying out this procedure on him.”

“What? No!” Both Sam and his potential ‘Daddy’ both shouted in unison. The man adding. “You can’t do that to the poor baby!”

The Boss-Lady paused and made a show of considering the bids which caused ‘Daddy’ to become increasingly agitated. “I’ll double her offer providing I can have him as he is! I’ll even take the girl off your hands too!”

Sam looked panic stricken as he considered the twin fates that lay before him. Gay sex-slave or eunuch? Both prospects filled him with dread!

“I’m sorry, Neil, but the bidding is closed.” The Woman stated with finality before turning towards the tall blonde. “Winnie I am pleased to inform you that I am able to meet the provisions of your conditional bid and award Lot Twelve to you subject to the payment of £16,000. Do you want him left with an empty sac or would you like his scrotum removed too?”

The blonde chuckled. “Remove all traces of it, please, Blodwyn, and have him smoothed over. He will look so much nicer afterwards, don’t you think?”

3. Preparatory Procedures.

After the auction, they sedated Sam and locked him up in a tiny Spartan room with a bed, a table and a toilet. But before this they had left him trembling upon his little podium from where he watched as the successful buyers had arranged payment for their lots and then departed accompanied by their property. He was staying, so in their eyes the did not need to bother themselves about him until right at the very end.

He remembered Rachel half turning and giving him a concerned look before mouthing. “See you soon.” And then she too was gone.

Neil had been one of the last to depart and had remained right up until Boss-Blodwyn announced that she needed to lock up. The man had nodded sadly and turned away before suddenly spinning around and leaping up onto Sam’s little podium. He hugged the surprised lad to him before kissing him passionately.

“Oh, Cutie-pie, what fun we would have had together…” He said softly before giving the lad’s willy one last squeeze. He jumped down and was suddenly gone leaving Sam alone with his confusion, fears and thoughts: for some reason his penis stood proudly erect and at a jaunty angle.

* * *

For Sam, the next few days slipped by in a haze of drug-induced confusion as Blodwyn made sure that he was medicated at all times with a cocktail of euphorics, tranquillizers and will-suppressants. He might not want what was going to happen to him but they certainly made sure that he would be happy about it.

He had remained locked inside the tiny room for a couple of days with nothing to do but doze or eat the odd bland meal that they brought in from time to time… Oh there was the routine of hygiene and the other types of personal maintenance, but that took place against the same hum-drum background as everything else. No one thought to provide him with distractions… Even one of his text-books would have been welcome — if he could have been bothered to read it, that is: for lethargy was one of the side effects of the medication.

At one stage Boss-Blodwyn came in and thrust some sheets of printed paper down on the table and insisted that Sam sign them which he did. The woman had then given him a a contemptuous smile before muttering. “You volunteered to become a slave so it’s all legal now!” Before departing as suddenly as she had arrived.

It must have been the third day that Ron suddenly burst into the little room and flung some clothes onto the little table. “Here, put these on, the Boss is taking you on a little trip.”

After he had left, Sam fitfully dressed as instructed and pulled on a pastel pink tee-shirt, baggy boxers without a fly and a pair of wide dark grey culottes. The clothes were old, but clean and seemed to fit where they touched. They had a distinctly feminine quality about them and must have once been the property of various girls who had passed through the place. The trainers that they provided him with, however looked like his own… And on closer examination he realised that they were, one even having a cigarette burn… He also found that some sort of collar had been locked around his neck: he tugged at it, but it seemed very secure.

Then it was out of the room, a short walk across the cluttered and seemingly disused warehouse and into the front seat of a big people carrier. Boss-Blodwyn waiting impatiently in the driving seat. “Where have you been?” She snarled, making the word “you” sound like an insult.

“S-sorry.” The lad muttered. “But I’ve only just been told.”

“Fucking Ron again!” She snapped before sighing. “Not your fault, boy!” And at that she started the engine and drove out into what looked like a semi-derelict industrial estate.

It didn’t take the lad long to realise that they were no longer in the West Midlands, in fact it seemed to be no where in the UK that he recognised and predictably he lapsed into silence and tried to work out just were the hell he was. Blodwyn was silent also, or rather was when she wasn’t swearing at other motorists.

The drive across town did not take long, mainly because there wasn’t a whole lot of anything that could vaguely be described as “town”. Then after a journey that resembled large-scale dodgems rather more than it did motoring, the vehicle rolled around the back of a shabby and rather nondescript building and stopped. Just before she pressed the ‘unlock’ button, Boss-Lady made a point of showing Sam the little black box before she slipped it into a pocket. The box had a single red button. Blodwyn smiled nastily knowing that she didn’t need to tell the young man just what it was for.

Sam had nodded glumly and said. “I’ll behave.”

“See that you do and only speak when you are spoken too. Oh and whatever happens — you are happy about everything that the doctor’s going to do!” The Boss-Lady’s grating voice no longer got on his nerves as he was now well past mere annoyance.

Then it was out of the car and into the building by way of an unmarked back door. “Ah! Miss Patel,” the receptionist had muttered nervously, “Doctor Fordyce is expecting you!”

And it was into the consulting room which was every bit as shabby and run down as the exterior of the building and indeed, as the area in which it was located. The doctor turned out to be a middle-aged man who chain-smoked throughout the consultation and only put his cigarette down when he was actually doing something that forced him too. He glanced up from the folder that he was reading through, recognised Blodwyn Patel and shuddered.

“‘Morning, Blodwyn, and how are you?” He enquired and then added. “A pleasure to see you again.” Even though it clearly wasn’t.

Sam suddenly did a double-take when he recognised the doctor as one of the unsuccessful bidders who had attended the auction a few days previously. The doctor gave him a pitying look. “So this is, er, the young gentleman, is it?”

Boss Lady had nodded and then snapped. “Just get on with it, doctor.”

And with that, Sam’s waking nightmare resumed. He knew what was about to happen and wanted to avoid it. He hated the idea of everything that the doctor was about to do but felt powerless to resist. He wasn’t going to be castrated was he? Surely not, that sort of thing just wasn’t done any more, this wasn’t the middle ages, after all. It was a joke, that’s what it was, a joke!

“Okay, just a couple of jabs to make you more relaxed.” The doctor mumbled before expertly injecting Sam with the contents of several hypodermics. “Right, er, young man, let’s take a look at you, drop you trousers, please.”

After Sam had done so the man patted the edge of the raised examination couch and waited while his patient hoped up onto it. Gently, and quite impersonally the doctor took hold of Sam’s penis and lifted it to give himself an unrestricted view of the lad’s scrotum which he felt and prodded expertly. “Hmm, everything seems to be there that should be.”

“But not for much longer.” Blodwyn Patel could be heard to mutter from somewhere behind the doctor who ignored her.

Then with Sam’s ‘family jewels’ cradled gently in the palm of his hand the doctor began to swab them with alcohol before administering a series of injections to the lad’s groin. Then with a shrug, he moved away and lit a fresh cigarette. He took a couple of drags and waited for the anaesthetic to begin to work before calling the practice nurse in to assist him

He turned to Blodwyn while he was waiting. “I can see why Neil Bloxham was sorry to have lost this one… The lad’s quite well endowed down there. Did Winnie Morgan put a higher bid in just to spite him, do you think?”

Whatever Blodwyn’s opinion on the matter happened to be, Sam never learned for it was at this point that the nurse breezed in and the doctor instructed her to shave the patient.

Thus the nightmare continued. As soon as the nurse was finished the doctor put his cigarette down and joined her and between them they got Sam to lie down on the edge of the couch with his legs, and other things, dangling down although they did provide him with footrests. Then, when the doctor was happy they set to work. As to what was actually done, the lad never knew for, because of the way he was lying, all he could see was a cobweb festooned light fitting. As for the surgical procedure he neither saw nor felt anything that was done to him over the course of the next half an hour. Although he was well aware that they were doing something as from time to time one of them would touch or move a part of him that was outside the area dulled by the anaesthetics.

When the doctor eventually sat him up all the he could see was the large dressing and the catheter that poked out of it. “There you are, Sam, all done… You’ll be a bit sore down there when the anaesthetic wears off but it will be all heeled up in about a week. Come back in ten days and we’ll take the stitches out. I’m sure that you’ll be pleased with the result!”

They dressed him in his loose-fitting culottes and that was that, in more ways than one! As they helped him to his feet his eyes fell on the small mound of pink fleshy surgical waste and bloody swabs that lay discarded in a dish on the couch near by… He jerked his head away and sobbed at that point for he realised that if it was a joke, it was a sick one.

* * *

They kept him sedated and at one point secured his hands behind his back, and it was here that they remained until they were sure that he wasn’t going to interfere with the good doctor’s work. He spent the next ten days dozing and wondering about the future and what further horrors that it held in-store for him.

At the end of the ten days he was driven back across town and examined once more and the nurse removed the dressing and eased the catheter out. Then the doctor joined her and the two of them cooed: clearly happy with the quality of the work that they had carried out and then set about removing the stitches. When they let Sam see, the lad shuddered for the underside of his penis was now as smooth and streamlined as the top and the skin between it and his arsehole was now a completely smooth sheet. Of his testicles and their baggy sac, there was no trace save for some pink lines, each with it’s two rows of stitch marks.

“There you are, Sam, all done.” The doctor proudly proclaimed through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Exactly as your Mistress instructed, in fact she’s here to collect you in person.”

And suddenly there she was, the tall blonde herself was bending over Sam, or rather Sammie, as she insisted in calling him. She examined the modified, smooth-looking penis, squeezed it and played with it for a few moments before looking up and smiling. “Thank you, doctor. An excellent piece of work. It’s not going to get hard is it?”

The doctor shook his head. “Castration by itself doesn’t put a stop to erections, but the amount of female hormones that you had me pump into him will keep him permanently soft and floppy. He’ll just need one of those slow-release injections every six months to keep him that way. Feminization will become noticeable in a month or so and this time next year you’ll be hard pushed to tell that he was ever a boy. He’ll be more cooperative and easier to handle now though he will get mood-swings but they shouldn’t last too long.”

Winnie smiled as she reached down, grasped Sammie’s penis and began to masturbate him. She carried on sliding the loose skin up and down for a minute or so, but aside from the odd twitch and the little dribble of pre-cum there was no sign of a reaction. The six-inch long trouser snake remained soft and floppy. The tall blonde smiled. “Thank you, doctor, castration really is the only way to tame these hideous things. The world would be a safer place if it were compulsory.”

* * *

The rest of the day continued as a whirlwind of visits and appointments, so many that the exhausted Sammie lost track of them. First was the clinic and the massive course of laser hair removal which, after several hours left him smooth and hairless below the eyelashes.

Next came the nail bar where the technicians carried out both a mani and a pedi and painted them all a genteel shade of peach.

Then it was the hairstylist who tutted at the state of his long student mop and then set to work trimming, layering and styling it into a neat shoulder length bob. “Blonde hair should be worn long,” the stylist proclaimed, “I’ve lightened yours and added a few highlights. I hope you’ll take better care of it in future.”

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4 Comments on “The Man”

  • Roxanne Lanyon


    All I can think about is a man. Yes, a man! I so dream of being had by one, in his arms, feeling his kisses, and making him wet and creamy with my sweet, lipsticked mouth! Oh, will I ever belong to one? I so want to be his woman, even his wife, forever and ever! I so want to love and adore him, dress pretty and feminine for him, be his sweet, obedient lover for the rest of my life! Oh, please, reward me with one! I do need a man!
    Roxanne Lanyon



    It is not being a eunuch. Even still I must keep up a regimen of care care of shaving ail of which takes the better part of an hour.

    These stories do not reflect on real sensations

  • Niken


    How to make my breast look like grl mistres ?

    • Ella


      Our gold membership would be perfect for you!

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