My Brother Tony,
 The Penury Slave
By: Randall Austin
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 3

Even though it was very humiliating for Tony to be leashed all the time, he still went about his daily routine, of grooming, combing his hair, and just trying to look good in general. It made me think that it was a good thing we took the judge's advice and kept him leashed and/or secured at all times. If it weren't for his enslavement order he would still be spending a fortune on clothes and grooming products, oblivious to reality. He put up with our good-natured ribbing about him being the family slave, but he didn't like it when we plasti-chained him to his bed every night. He would cry and ask why we were doing it, and we would tell him we did because we loved him.

On the day of the auction Tony wanted to dress up in his usual nice way and comb his hair fancy. I couldn't understand why one would want to make oneself look good if one was going to be naked and on display. To me it seemed like it would invite ogling. But I guess the reason Tony and all the other penuries were being invited to step up on the auction block was because they weren't exactly real good at figuring out what was best for their own good.

The Tillman County slave auction is known locally as 'the roundup'. It is the chief auction station not just for Tillman County, but all of the surrounding counties as well. The roundup always draws a big crowd, and has something of a carnival atmosphere to it. Most of the crowd usually consists of gawkers; locals out to take in the spectacle of the latest herd of poor boys and petty criminals about to be turned into useful slaves.

Popular feeling holds that poor boy slaves are somehow rather more benign creatures than other slaves, and thus they come with a cache that maintains that they make good domestic slaves. Therefore auction officials price them accordingly, and they tend to bring in slightly higher bids than most of the drug dealing, pot smoking, petty thief, traffic offender, slaves.

We had to have Tony at the auction by 7 AM the morning of the auction. I was surprised to find this out since actual bidding didn't begin until noon. My dad wanted his three sons to accompany Tony to the auction, and that is what we all wanted as well. We managed to keep Tony cheered up during the drive out to the auction grounds. But when we finally arrived at the Tillman County Auction Grounds, however, we all found our spirits suddenly depressed. The auction grounds looked like a 'serious' place. It was located on the outskirts of the city of Frederick, and the parking lot which neighbored the outdoor auction stage was already heavily spotted with the cars of auction workers and police vans which were bringing in the 'goods' from the surrounding counties. As we took a parking spot and got out of the car I noticed there were other folks also bringing in collared family members who were probably also 'penuries', and thus, like Tony, were not coming from a local jails.

The wooden stage was huge, and around the back three sides of the stage and above the stage loomed a giant steel structure of crisscrossed steel beams from which hung hundreds of chains, half of which had cuffs attached to them. At the back half of the stage several processing stations were being set up by the auction workers.

To the left side of the stage, on the auction grounds, was a line of about 20 slaves, being watched over by police officers. When we checked in with the auction officials and handed in Tony's papers, we were told to take Tony to the back of that line and give the papers to the auction official that was with them. We were told we could stay with Tony until processing began. We stood in line with Tony and in no time at all the line filled up behind us with about 20 or 30 more newly arriving slaves and their family and friends.

As I looked at the rest of the slaves in the line with Tony I wasn't too surprised to see that most of them seemed to fit the description of typical poor boy slaves. They ranged in age for the most part from 20 to 30. They appeared to be what we call hipsters in this part of the country. They all looked as if they were trying to maintain some kind of "cool" image. They probably all dreamed of being rock stars somewhere along the way. Clearly practicing their guitars and maintaining the right look was more important to them than holding down respectable jobs. One had quite a fancy rugged looking hair cut that was sharpened with a carefully maintained shadow beard. One skinny slave had a very ornate tattoo on his left arm. One black haired kid was loaded down with necklaces and rings, and his hair was streaked with copper highlights. And, of course, there was Tony, looking like something from an Italian fashion magazine, with his slicked hair and shiny blue silk shirt.

I had to admit they all looked good and clearly had a sense of style. But that, apparently, is all that they did have. If most of them had only bothered to get decent haircuts and wear respectable clothes, they probably then would have been able to get and hold on to a job, and would not be finding themselves in the embarrassing situation they were now in; about to be ordered up on to the auction block in front of hundreds of spectators.

Some owners would doubtless let these poor boys keep their hair, clothing, and jewelry. But most owners would probably opt for the more conventional slave look of a shaved head, plain brown slave fatigues, and black work boots.

Poor Tony, he looked so lost. Still trying to be 'cool' even as he was about to ordered to mount the slave auction block! I couldn't help but think that this ordeal probably would, finally, knock some common sense into his curly haired head.

As the remaining slaves were being brought in from the various communities, so were the arriving the crowds of gawkers. It was incredible. It wasn't even 7 am, the auction didn't begin until noon, and already hundreds of people had arrived.

Boss Harder, his two brothers, and their six boys, arrived and took seats in the front rows. The Harder's were small-scale slavers who invested in one or two slaves at a time solely for their resale value. Their strategy was to buy up prime rated slave stock at the local auction, then take them to major markets, such as San Francisco or Houston, and turn a large profit.

I saw Eric Madonna, our neighbor, and his daughter Shelly. I know Eric saw my brothers and me, but he avoided us because he probably didn't want us to think he was at the auction just to watch Tony 'get it', even though I know that is what he was doing. Tony had a crush on Shelly years ago, and I know it would be devastating to Tony if he were to see her in the crowd.

One man looking determined to do business was doing his best to answer the questions of his two excited little children. "Pa, hey pa, can I whip the new slave when we get him home, huh pa?" "Maybe, if you behave yourself today, I'll let you and your brother practice your whip stroke on the new slave." The children squealed with excitement as their father guided them to an aisle seat. At 7 AM sharp an officer told us that we had to leave the slave line. He told us that the gift shop and food stands would soon be open for our convenience, or we could take a seat in front of the stage and watch the processing of the slaves. So Gabriel, Richard and I took our leave of Tony after telling him we would see him after the auction. Rows and rows of folding chairs had been set up by the auction staff, so we took a front row seat.

Several auction officials went up to the first slave standing in line, a kid who seemed to be about Tony's age. One of the auction workers took out a small metal basket, and told the kid to take off all of his clothes and put them in the basket. As the kid was undressing another auction worker swiped his ear tag with a reader. As the slave undressed, an auction official evaluated the slave and made a pronouncement, "Full shave, half inch nose ring." Another worker typed this info into a machine, and a printout soon came out. One of the printed tags was attached to the clothesbasket, and another tag was clipped onto the slave's ear tag. When he was naked he was ordered up on stage where two hefty auction workers immediately grabbed him, turned him upside down, and a third worker pulled down two cuffs hanging from chains attached to a trolley in the steel grid work above and attached a cuff to each ankle. The cuffs were very wide, almost a foot and half, and securely fastened the slave's legs. They tested the cuffs, and then gave the kid, naked and hanging upside down by his ankles, a big shove and he went trollying along on to the next station. The kid was wide eyed with fear.

At the next station a young auction worker with a pair of clippers immediately started buzzing off the hair on his head. When finished, he was able to push a switch and the slave was lowered slightly and the auction worker had easy access to the hair in the slave's pubic region and armpits. Once the slave was buzz clipped all over, the worker gave the freshly clipped slave a shove down to the next station, and there he was greeted by a female auction worker who hosed his body, applied shaving cream to his head, pits and nads, and made short work of shaving him totally bald. She gave him a final rinse hosing down and gave the slave a big push, and he went rolling down to the next station, where workers sprayed his nose, punched a hole in the slave's septum, and inserted a half-inch nose ring. The slave was moaning and shuddering more from fear than from the pain of the nose ringing.

A guy sitting next to me asked his partner why they shaved the slave's pussy. His knowledgeable friend answered, "It makes their wieners look bigger. Fact is, big wienered boys sell awfully fast."

By this time there were already four other slaves hanging naked upside down being pushed down the processing line. It was soon clear that all the slaves were going to be stripped, hung upside down, and processed. Not all slaves were shaved in the same places. Some were allowed to keep the hair on their head, according to the decision of the auction official whose job it was to make sure each slave was presented in a way that ensured he sold for top dollar. Some slaves were put down to receive various body modifications. Slaves serving more than 6 years in Oklahoma had to be branded. And some counties had ordinances that their slaves had to be nose ringed or penis ringed.

After the first few slaves were cuffed and hanging upside down, the rest of the slaves in the line were showing visible panic. Tony had his head down, and looked like he would cry at any moment. One slave near the back of the line started to run, and in an instant about five officers were on him. He was stripped on the spot, and a police officer decorated his entire backside, from feet to shoulders, with the fearful stinging lashes of the service whip. His howling disconcerted all of the slaves. The whipped slave then had to stand naked in line, weeping, with lines and lines of angry red stripes down the length of his backside on display for all to see. After his whipping and frightening screams, all the slaves in line finally realized they were really slaves now, and were going to be treated like it from now on. All of the slaves still in line were suddenly cowed and silent, and very scared.

By this time more and more cars were pulling up into the parking lot, food booths had come to life, and the grounds were crawling with people.

Ned Spengler and his two daughters drove up in their old Nash. Ned, I knew for certain, didn't have the means to purchase a slave, but I knew his daughters always had the means to convince their dad to take them to the 'roundup'. They knew that they would soon be getting an eyeful of fresh boy berries.

Buster Meldon and his pals pulled up in their old flatbed truck. Each was carrying a quart of malt liquor. Seeing all the fresh young slaves they hooted it up, "Well yee haw! A whole stage full of naked college boys!" Buster shouted out to Doctor Littleton. "Hey doc, if I purchase a recently branded slave today, is it safe for me to work him in the cesspool this afternoon?" "It sure is." The doctor answered, "Just spray the brand with a good antiseptic and keep it bandaged."

Big, fat, beer bellied, Goose Hawkins, looking as dumb as ever, arrived in his 1968 Dodge Dart. As he ambled over towards the stage he was all smiles as Zipper McCallister shouted out, "What in the hell you doin here Goose? You ain't got a dime to your name."

Goose let Zipper have it, "Just thought I'd check the losers out, that's all. Doing the same thing you are, Zipper."

As I expected, the majority of the crowd at the auction were typical Southern, inbred, brain-fried, pot bellied, hick-accented, meat-scarfing, ambling, drooling, religious fundamentalist, slobs. Imagine being owned by one of them!

Soon, in what seemed to be a relatively short amount of time, all 73 slaves on sale that day were naked, hanging upside down by their ankles like slabs of beef, as auction workers walked among them doing their final processing.

At one point in the processing a belt was put around their waists, and their wrists were cuffed to the belt so that their arms no longer hung down, but stayed secured at their sides.

Next, color coded cards were attached to the hanging slaves' foreskin or frenum by means of small alligator clips. There, on the stage, were 73 naked slaves hanging upside down with color-coded cards alligator clipped to their dicks, showing off to the world everything their mommas gave them.

Several auction officials walked out in front of the stage to survey the goods from a distance. They stopped in front of us and looked up on the stage. "Ok, we've got 73 good looking slabs hanging up there. For the most part, it's a pretty strong lot. The blues and corals should bring some hefty returns. It's one of the best looking crops of blues I've seen in quite a while."

Since there were still about 2 hours to go before the auction began, Gabriel asked one of the auction officials why the slaves had to hang up there for so long when it looked like most of the processing was completed. One of the officials was happy to answer. "We keep all slabs hanging upside down for anywhere from 4 to 5 hours before auction because it gives a deep rosy hue to their flesh. A well flushed slave looks really strong and healthy. And it actually makes processing a lot easier for us, as well." It was a warm day, and we were all starting to get thirsty, so Richard, Gabriel and I walked over to one of the vendors and got three tall glasses of iced tea. We then made our way back to our seats and sipped as we watched the events. We had a chance to chat with a lot of other folks at the auction, found out a lot about people's various reasons for attending the auction, and generally had a good time, with lots of camaraderie and laughter among the spectators.

At one point an auction official asked the upside down slaves if they had to pee. The auction boys then went to those slaves who had to pee and held urinals under their dangling penis's as the slaves relieved themselves.

One of the auction workers shouted to a crowd that had gathered at that part of the stage nearest his station, and announced to his audience, "Ok folks, its branding time. Gather around, we have seven slaves up for a branding." Folks who heard this rushed over, and some who were already there ran off to get their friends. The auction workers collected the seven hanging slaves due for a branding, and trollied them over to the branding station. Their eyes were wide with fear, as the branding oven hissed and steamed. Folks were scrambling to get a good view, amid much chattering and laughter.

When the slave brander saw that the crowd was large enough, he pulled the first dangling slave towards him and positioned him over the branding vise. He spun him around, lowered him a bit so his ass was at a good level, and secured the slave's shoulders into the branding vise. Another auction worker went to the front of the slave, gathered his knees in both arms and held him tight, and another auction worker stooped down, gathered the slave's head in both arms and held tightly. The auction brander got a signal from all of the slaveholders that they had the slave secured, and he then pulled a large branding iron out of the oven. The tip of the brand was redder than anything I had ever seen. The crowd fell silent. He touched the slaves' upper buttock with the brand and slowly plunged the iron deeper into the slave's buttock. The slave let out a scream that was not human, as the crowd listened in devoted silence. The brander seemed to hold the iron in place longer than I would have thought safe.

When the brander removed the iron from the slave's behind he stuck it back into the oven. The slave continued crying, screaming, moaning, and trying like mad to wiggle free. But the auction boys held him firm. The brander examined the brand, then took out a small aerosol type canister and sprayed the brand for quite a while. The slave's screaming soon died down and turned into sobbing. The slave's penis was erected to the hilt, his dick knob almost as red as the branding iron. For some reason, so was mine.

The auction boys then released the slave from their grips and from the vise, and rolled the branded slave back into place alongside the rest of the slaves. The next slave up for a branding, looking far more terrified than the first slave did, was pulled up to the branding station, secured into the branding vise, and held down by the auction boys. As he was being readied the slave pleaded, "Please don't do this to me. Please!" The auction boys ignored him, as the spectators laughed.

Gabriel, Richard, and I joined the crowd watching the branding, since we had never seen a slave get branded before. If Tony had been up for a branding, it's doubtful we would have been able to watch. It was quite an awesome sight seeing guys who were just like me getting branded. Hanging upside down, no hope of escape, no place to escape to, slowly being brought to the branding station. One thing all the slaves on that stage were realizing, whether they were getting branded or not, was that life would be very different for them from now on. They were finally being treated the way slaves can expect to be treated; like helpless, mindless, slabs of beef. Muscled work boys. Who can get strung up by their ankles, or anything else, if that's what their owners wanted.

To be continued...

Posted: 07/06/12