SIR SNOB: His Ass is SOLD!

SIR SNOB: His Ass is SOLD!

Our hero's holes are auctioned into indentureship

Every character portrayed here is over 18

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Claiborne woke in a haze and felt the urge to rub his sore butt cheeks. Why it was that way was a mystery to him. His fingers reached inside his crack, which had immediately detected copious squishy, leaky secretions. This could have been if it had been buried inside his asshole and must have leaked out. When changing position, said love juice trickled down his left cheek and onto the comforter. After a growl of annoyance, he tried to play back exactly what had transpired between the two of them last evening, they were his captor - the Madame, and he - the captive. At that moment all he could remember of last night's 'activities' was that they were less of an exchange between them, and more like what she apparently exacted upon him.

He then groggily propped himself to a sit-up by placing a fluffy red body pillow behind the small of his back. The oversized bed on which he was sprawled was adorned with cream-colored sheets and a pattern of tiny golden flor-de-lis. As the back of his shoulders rested recumbent on the darkened oak Medieval headboard, he began to recall ...

~~~

What his memory could ascertain first was that he was standing at attention in the foyer of a palatial manor, naked as the day he was born. A hand from a beautiful buxom blonde 'handmaiden' swept across the nadir of his ass schism. The unseen hand progressed downwards at an agonizingly slow pace to the underside of his balls. At each sensitive point she grazed, Clay's skin prickled with excitement. The young woman, now sporting a sly smile, continued to trail her fingertips along his thick, but modest length shaft. She splayed her fingers at its tip and successively made contact with each one, just like a paddlewheel does to the water it disturbs. She then gauged his reaction. It was plain to see that with his head tilted up and mouth agape that the tease was having its intended effect.

From a deeper, older, different voice came, "That's the way to do it, my lovely young nymph. Just like I do with your titties and clitty. You've got him nice and electrified." The statement was punctuated by a maniacal chortle to which Claiborne was awakened from his reverie.

"See? We can be nice to you... if we want to," continued the voice of the plump matriarchal Miss Zaphtyk, better known as 'Madame Z'.

The Madame softly approached him from the rear and replaced the servant's hand with her own, on his rear. He could feel her warm, wanton breath nuzzle in the back of his neck. The points of her plump breasts as they pressed into his upper back were likened to that of darts gently piercing his skin.

Without warning she issued a sharp slap on his right buttock, then cupped it and hummed, "Hmmm, you like me getting your bottom all nice and rosy, don't you?"

Her left hand slid from his left hip across his chest diagonally and painfully clasped his right nipple between her thumb and index finger. He winced, unsuccessful in his attempt to conceal his pain, and pleasure. Madame Z's right hand was still squeezing his butt as she repositioned her left to the small of his back. She ran a finger vertically south along his butt's cleft, yet not quite reaching lower than his man hole. She feigned further progression and sunk her digit inward, but merely nail-deep.

He felt the mock intrusion by her index finger, and issued a frustrated sigh. Then she removed it and licked that same finger. As she retracted the digit from her mouth she made sure to accentuate it with a loud 'pop'. The probing finger returned to the middle of his cleft and gently worked itself between his pillows again, but deeper this time. Mistress Z sought out her intended target. Clay gasped at the tingling sensation of first contact with his anal ring. She didn't stop at just the entrance, but pressed inwardly towards his rectal core.

Madam's left hand dropped from his right tit and glided down to his impatient purpled cock. She jerked it once ever so slightly with a firm grip. From under his right ear he could feel her grinning with triumph. There were simultaneous sensations her finger gave him: probe, pump and peck. They were collectively becoming overwhelming to him. Just as he reached a fevered pitch, it all abruptly stopped.

At the cessation of his nirvana he detected her growing bulge poking at his back door. She retracted her probing finger and raised her right hand to her tongue. Succinctly Madame slathered slimy saliva to wet her palm and spread over her sizable cock head. She guided it between his cheeks and began to push into his man cave. He again gasped, first from confusion, then from ecstacy. She held still awaiting further reaction.

"Yes, fuck me," he tacitly ushered.

"What was that my fuck slave? Did you ask me something? You'll have to speak up over your groans of pleasure or I can't help you."

"Please, please," he pleaded louder this time, "bury your beautiful cock in my ass. Move it in and out of my naughty, willing asshole."

"It will be more than my pleasure, and apparently yours as well. Yes?" he didn't answer at first as he was so caught up in the moment, so Madame added, "Answer me, or I'll assume I'm only hurting you."

"I said," he could barely eke out, "I said ... I wanna be fucked in my man-puss and have you cum in it. PLEASE!."

She again chided him, "How could I deny such an enthusiastic request?"

She proceeded to quicken the pace of her pushes and pulls against him, gritting her teeth and growling more with each cheek-slapping stroke. He was enraptured by the baseness of his impalement. She hooked her right arm around his neck and grabbed hold of his left shoulder to accelerate her slams. She forced him to bend further forward away from her. It was still not a good enough purchase for her liking, so she kicked his legs far apart enough to subjugate him to all fours. At that their knees precipitously met the floor with a thud. She took advantage of his daze to perch her hips atop his lower back. Her subtly up-curved cock was now hitting his most intimate hot spots.

"Hmmm, that's more like it. Now I can really get my groove on," and she did so by latching both of her hands on his shoulders and pumped his asshole mercilessly.

"Ahhh, I like that. More!" he cried.

She honored his plea, "pull your ass flaps wider, my ass-ho'. This is why I paid so dearly for you, so I could take it out on that tight gripping a-hole." He complied with her demand by reaching behind himself to widen his crack for her use of him. This further invigorated Madame to slap her sweeping balls into the back of his. Lewd sucking and fucking sounds rebounded against every wall. The echo was deafening. Claiborne basked in the contrasting sensations of being split open and the wondrous fullness. Madame Zaphtyk, too, swelled with her own pointed pleasure.

The rubbing of her cock against his tunnel walls. The clamping of her splayed inner thighs closing tightly around his. The clacking sounds at the collision of their pendulous balls. He constricted his snug asshole around her cock the more his pleasure built. It was then that Sir Snob realized he was now relishing his new-found forevermore role as 'slut sub pincushion for her Majesty's septor.' A sense of calm washed over him. He was now free to embrace the punishing pleasure placed upon him, and joyfully anticipate much more of it in the future.

"Does your lady cock like my man-pussy, Madame Z? Is it a good asshole? Please don't stop until you cum inside it and wash it out with your love juice."

~~~

Suddenly he was snapped back to the present by an insistent knock upon his bedroom door, "uhhh, come in?", he said sheepishly.

The door violently swung open and rebounded off the wall, the knob making a dent in the poured plaster (no cheap wallboard here), "morning glory my newly acquainted acquisition. I hope you had a better rest than myself, for I could not stop thoughts of your luscious 'bod' continuously invading my dreams."

He was too stunned to respond - due both by her commanding voice and beautifully bodacious body. Claiborne then remembered that It was Madame Z who was the high bidder for his purchase. What he recalled next undoubtedly led to this morning's brazed bottom. It was his 'introduction' to the ways of the household that he was blindfolded and fully exposed to her whims. It was her right, no, more like her obligation, to initiate him upon his induction as the manor man-slut.

The shocking truth of his abduction and transport to this place suddenly came upon his consciousness. He began to picture what transpired during the man-slave auction that brought him to this fate...

~~~

Claiborne is suddenly wrenched to his feet by the ascension of heavy iron chains tethered to the cold shackles binding his hands. His arms are raised high above his head, practically forcing him tippy-toe.

"Looks like 'ee's beggin' for a whippin'. Wouldn't you say?", chides a short and wide guard flanking Clay's left.

"And 'ere I am, leavin' me best bullwhip at home," laughs the lankier, less buxom guard on his right, another fat-assed guard behind him joining in the quip.

The muscular and butch High Commander, leering at Clay lasciviously, bellowed, "Too bad that 'whipping' would leave too many red marks. 'Twould be bad for business." She continued, "alright then, we've had our giggles. Cut'em loose, pretty'em up and leave him bare 'arsed' for the biddin'. If he gets better than 99 Quibs, it'll earn us enough to be knee-deep in man-holes again. I don't know about you ladies, but I'm dying to tap all 'dem mouths, hands and asses!," at that, the three guards nodded with goofy smiles in affirmation.

The guards then proceeded to prepare him for presentation at the semi-annual auction, a.k.a., 'Boi Exchange.' There, the exclusively male captives were paraded one by one buck naked in public on a large platform. It was eerily reminiscent of the wooden gallows of olde. The chilling effect was the point. Perking man boobs, turgid gonads, prominent asses and goose bumped testes, all added value to the stock.

Waiting his turn, Clay became trepid at the sight of the fellow sorry soles that preceded him. Each was groped, fondled, pinched and prodded by prospective bidders. A lucky few were treated with a teasingly pleasant rub, especially upon their buttocks. The buyer's intent was not to soothe, but to gauge their responsiveness. Some of the men even hummed, but all were treated to a startling slap. Claiborne was not comforted by this.

The eventuality materialized. Clay was pushed forward and unceremoniously shoved into the merchant's circle. He could barely withstand the leers from the crowd of well-to-do Mistresses. Several expressed their interest in his purchase by sizing him up like produce: squeezing his forearm muscles, pinching his buttocks, sampling his manly scent. He could hear their whispers of approval as they compared notes.

The gaggle of hens hovered over his shapely midsection, smooth taut chest and broad muscled shoulders. One even examined his large hands and blonde haired stomach strip. She concluded the evaluation by issuing an approving nod. The master of ceremonies was about to announce the main event so the bidding would begin. Just as she opened her mouth to speak thus, a Mistress with understated bravado sached forward. Unlike the others before her, she first looked deeply into his innocent blue eyes. While meeting her gaze he felt a soft hand explore his back. It was undoubtedly her hand. Her right hand moved slowly down his spine until stopping at his butt's split. A wicked smile appeared on her face as she continued the exploration, tracing his crack with her fingers.

She adeptly pivoted to his front while grabbing her significant lady cock in her left hand. She then slid half a step forward and invaded his grill as she looked up to catch his stare. A self-congratulatory smirk appeared upon her face. He suddenly felt his own cock being brushed on the underside. It was being rubbed, not by a hand, but what he realized was her cock. As he issued a sigh she grasped both cock heads in her right hand and continued the titillating mutual friction. His eyes closed, only to be abruptly opened at the disappointment of the sensation's removal. He then saw her step backwards, turn her back and depart down the platform stairs. He let escape an inadvertent smile while admiring her shapely behind.

"Easy on the merchandise, sweet ladies of means. 'Ees much better without bruises, thank you," barked the auctioneer as she tacitly shooed them away with her menacing approach, booming voice and imposing presence, 'Da' biddin' will start at 69 Quibb.'

Then was heard a collective sigh of resignation at the mention of the high reserve price. The auctioneer stomped her feet to hush the crowd of lewdly salivating matriarchs. Her short-statured assistant yanked the rope attached to his collar, resulting in Clay standing to attention, his back slightly arched and limp dick pushed forward.

"Aye, there's a fine pose," laughed a tall bidder, the crowd following suit.

"Settle down ladies so we can start. Like I said, 69," authoritatively announced the auctioneer, "'Oo's game for this fine slab of man meat, eh?"

"70!," shouted an unseen squat frizzy haired head from the rear.

"80," from the left.

"85," from the right.

"Yah all makin' too easy on me," chides the auctioneer with her assistant sneering behind her.

"100," plainly stated the quietly confident woman, who fondled him earlier, just off center in the front.

There was an uneasy pause amongst the crowd as they individually weighed their options.

Finally, a meek anonymous response, "125!"

Our brash Mistress waited ne'er a heartbeat before issuing, "150."

"That's what I'm talk'n 'bout, me fair ladies. Keep it up, mamma needs a new set of mules," the auctioneer ushered, but without a return chuckle from the now humorless horde.

Just as a tall woman from the left began to declare, "1-," she was interrupted by, "2-5-0," our collected lady coolly shouted.

"Anybody dare beat that? Don't suppose so. Two Hundred's the winner, then," from the auctioneer, "and I'll even throw in a new collar for the bloke."

And, at that Claibourne was quickly whisked off the stage to make way for the next sale. No sooner did he take the last step off the stage than was a heavy studded collar slapped around his neck, a metal chain hooked to it. He felt a sharp yank and stumbled forward to avoid crashing to the ground, for that would have only added the proverbial salt to the wound. After a few feet he was loaded aboard what resembled a century old horse-drawn San Francisco trolley with two pairs of gunmetal colored spoked wooden wheels almost as tall as he was. He stepped up into a velvet cushion lined cab.

Upon entering the coach, he was surprised to see not a seat anywhere inside. Only an antique four-poster king bed with a fine fishnet veil draped over the posts existed. This sole article was no doubt used by his new Mistress for 'entertaining' other poor slobs like himself. Just then Clay remarked within his head how his persona had surreptitiously transitioned from a once self-satisfied selfishness to one of relaxed resignation.

Before he could compose further thoughts the interior door opens with the Mistress sexily sauntering with a sly smile. Now that Claiborne had the opportunity to fully see his master his eyes bulged at the sight of her understated beauty. She was of mild stature, full-bodied, but not to excess. Her reddish raven coiffure was made of meticulously groomed mid-length locks sporting an almost girlish body curl. Her lips, as well as her heaving breasts, were confidently plump. Madame's wide, firm hips proudly famed her trimmed dark haired delta, her erect 'clit' appeared to seek out its new muse, him.

But, before he had the opportunity to basque in further appreciation, she brought her face up to his and stared at him unblinkingly. He tried to return her intense gaze with a modicum of defiance. She stood unfazed by his counter challenge. His Mistress tilted her head slightly, grabbed the back of his with both hands and assertively mashed their lips together. He was taken aback by complete surprise by this but quickly surrendered to the moment as their tongues danced. Just as quickly, Mistress pulled back from the steamy embrace. Her right hand slipped along the underside of his balls, then with a single finger, grazed up to the zenith of his hardness, and constricted its length tightly with that very same hand.

"I rarely do this so don't get too used to it. Lay face up in the middle, head pointed at the headboard" as she points to the wall.

Knowing any act of defiance would displease his owner, Claibourne followed her instructions with a nod, "yes mam."

Madame crawls like a panther along his body. She stops momentarily at his torso to admire his straining erect cock, but before she gets a chance to fill her hungry mouth with his member, Clay preemptively lip locks the head of her cock. Her face reverses course to rise in bliss. Clay is relishing her Mistress's smooth bulbous cock. He finds himself moaning while spinning his tongue around the tip. He gives into his lust. He must have more of this firm but delicate appendage even deeper. He engulfs as much as possible in a single mouthful and commences bobbing up and down on it.

It was then that he felt his own cock being inhaled by Madame Z. She bypassed the licking stage completely and went right into full oral massage. His cock tingled with delight and twitched a time or two at the sensation. She then dislodged his pole from herself. Slowly she tongue surveyed the ridge of his cock head, going round and round, and round again. She latched onto his shaft with her right hand and began to pump along its length. She only stopped a short time to peek under herself and back to visually capture the rapture that was Clay lavishing her lollipop. The sight made her even harder, if that was even possible.

Claibourne noticed from the corner of his eye that she was gawking at what he was doing to her. This excited him further and he could not hold back the flood gates. He watched as her hand oscillated at incredible speed while spitting on his cock tip for lubrication, and he began spurting his cum into the air. The first shots were weak thanks to his vain attempts at prolonging ejaculation. The fourth and fifth shots rocketed high above his view before being obscured by Madame's prone body. He could not see it landing, so it must have gone pretty upwards. As his cumming waned he went back to work on Madame.

Quickly, he mimicked her hand by pumping of her shaft, but added a clockwise swirl of his tongue about the pee hole. With a mighty twitch her love spear muscles propelled cum along and out of her cock. Clay hurriedly inhaled near her entire length. He was rewarded with spurt after spurt of her batter, creating a pool of love within his oral orifice that exceeded its holding capacity. Uncaptured sperm formed a stream of dribble at his mouth's edges. At last it stopped. They were both relieved at the conclusion.

"Ummmh, that was a delicious introduction," saideth his ruler, "and now I must take my leave to direct the 'carriage' back to your new home. Rest up for now, and help yourself to the food and drink stowed in drawers below the bed. For you will need your strength when we arrive, as I have plans for that fine bottom I paid so dearly for."

As she walked out through the carriage's one interior door, he ravenously attacked what was easiest to find for munches, downed with a capped mug of mead. While alternately crunching and slurping Clay quizzically pondered recent events since his initial 'abduction.' Did that word to it justice, or could it be described more aptly as a 'rescue.' Sleep then overtook him. He instantly drifted to deep slumber not really caring about what to call 'this' situation, for there was inevitably more discovery to follow.