Saturday, 7 January 2017

The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections - part one.

The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections - part One

White Sugar

On the 8th of October I wrote about the Tate & Lyle (T&L) auctions that used to be, and possibly still are, held in the South of London. In my article I described the origin of how young wives or girlfriends of white men, and then later couples, offered themselves for auctioning as Mistresses or couples to rich Black Men. For those who do not know who Tate and Lyle are, they are an East London manufacturer of sugar. Additionally the white girls who offered themselves for auction were commonly referred to as 'white sugar' by many Black Men (as opposed to 'brown sugar' from the old Rolling Stones song that was popular at that time) hence the adoption of T&L as a generic name for the auctions.

In my description I also recounted how I came to learn about these very strange sales from my best friend Ken and how his Wife Janet had been sold at auction to a Black Man called Antoine. As night follows day, Janet and her 'Master' fell in love, mated, and had their first child together; their little girl was followed by boy twins and then another girl in 1990. Ken played the role of the true and intimate cuckold and often professed to me that he actually enjoyed the Beta male role in his three cornered marriage and found that intimately serving his Wife and her (his) Master was much to his liking.

It would serve no purpose to repeat all of the background and explanations here so, if you haven't read the previous article concerning the organized and voluntary selling of wives and couples to rich Black Men, please visit [The T&L Auctions]. The intention of this article therefore is to continue with the story and how my Wife Jen and me became involved in this admittedly odd way to live one's life.

Jen, my Wife, already had a Jamaican Lover called Lester at the time with whom she was very happy. And for my part I was content to be the 'other man' in her life so there was no need to become participants in the T&L. Friends and acquaintances did however and there wasn't a month went by without someone we knew, or knew of, who became willingly subjugated by a rich Black Man. Couples too (Yuppies1 mostly) put themselves forward for selection at auction as enslaved objects of pleasure; quite who gained the most pleasure from such a relationship was a matter of much conjecture at the time but there were plenty of volunteers from the so called 'sophisticates' of London and the Home Counties. Business, as they say, was brisk.



Enslaved objects of pleasure.

Each and every transaction at the auction was evaluated on a sliding scale according to the Wife's beauty, enthusiasm and experience of pleasuring the Black Man. Couples were traded separately and priced according to both the Wife's beauty and the husband's willingness to be humiliated and sexually used. All were subject to a naked visual inspection and an in-depth interview to ascertain their suitability for accepting that their sole purpose was to please their Master in every way. Before each auction all Wives, couples and purchasers were subject to strict checks on HIV and STDs and there were of course, some failures, all of whom were forbidden from participating - cured or not - and forever. 

'What about the money?' You may ask. The 'hammer' price was distributed on a percentage basis of 40% to the Wife or couple - paid into their own bank account, 50% to the organizers and 10% to charities across the West Indies and Africa. Given that the average price for a very pretty young Wife could be somewhere in the region of a million pounds sterling, and an attractive married couple for eight hundred thousand pounds there were some orphanages in those parts of the world that did very nicely. And a lot of Wives and their cuckolds found themselves with a nice little nest egg as well as, frequently, a little dark cuckoo in that nest.

In the early 1990s, the organizers decided to discretely advertise when auctions were to be held and as a consequence small and very unassuming advertisements for the sales of willing white flesh were stuck on lamp posts and telephone poles around the South of London.


Sales of willing white flesh.

Those who knew about these sales understood what it meant instantly; it gave the date of the auction and a phone number, that changed each time, to make the arrangements. They were produced in such a way that those who were not 'in the know' assumed it was a secret 'rave'. In it's understated way it was very clever, very efficiently organized and very popular with young 'sophisticated' couples.


"I rang it for us both Dear."

My profession those days was that of aerospace research engineer based in the London headquarters of a major aerospace company. My duties took me all over the world and to much of the UK troubleshooting problems with aircraft and their systems. So it was handy that I lived in Lewisham, which was convenient for traveling to work and for access to airports around the city. Jen, my Wife, also at that time enjoyed the attentions of Lester who, like us, lived in the South London, so moving to somewhere even more convenient was pretty much out of the question. Besides, I liked living in Lewisham.

It was October 1988 when my boss called me in to his office. "Problems in Saudi Derek. It might be the heat affecting the jets but I need you out there for a couple of months. Find out the problem, work out a fix, and get an update program started with the local management. No need to tell you how important this contract is," 'Then why tell me Jack?' I thought. "You leave tomorrow. Your tickets are with my secretary." 

Jen wasn't happy but I knew that she wouldn't be going 'without' as Lester agreed that he would spend even more time with her than usual. That was all good and within forty eight hours I was standing in thirty eight degrees on a boiling hot concrete pan looking at a very broken aeroplane. As pissed off as I was, my professional skills kicked in and I got to work with the company team out there.

Within two weeks it was clear to me that this was no easy task and I told Jen so in our evening five minute chat on the Satellite Phone (remember them?). "How long do you think you will be wanted down there Derek?" Was her simple question but I could tell there was something behind the question.

"What's the matter Jen? Is something worrying you? You're being looked after okay aren't you?" We both knew that I meant Lester, but I always liked to hear it from her. Her quick three word response was meant to placate me but she forgot that she was dealing with someone who knew her moods better than she knew herself. That night I phoned Ken.

"Something's wrong with Jen," I said to him over the sat link, "it might not be much, but I think she's not telling me something. Can you get Janet to go and see her tomorrow. I shall ring in the evening for her news - if any."

"No problem Del!" Was Ken's reply. It was good to hear his London accent after the guttural Arabic of the locals. "Anything for a mate."

We talked for a little while about our Wives and their Lovers and I felt good after our conversation although it did little to remove the suspicion that all was not well.

The following day was as normal as it could be in Saudi Arabia but it was Ken who I phoned first that night.

His echoing voice was clear over the link. "You were right Derek, your antenna was working after all." I froze at hearing the news. "Jen is fine in herself but she has a problem with her Boyfriend Lester."

"Lester?" I yelled over the three thousand mile phone call. "What has he done to her?"

"Nothing Derek. Don't take off on one. He's done nothing that Antoine doesn't do with Janet every bloody night. Jen told her that they have been going at it like bunnies since you left. But ....." he paused, "he wants more than she wants to give."

"Meaning?"

Ken's voice took on a guarded tone. "He wants her for himself. It appears that he made a move on her to send you packing and let him move in. Jen's in pieces, she wants to be rid of him but ...... Er! You know. Who will take his place. I'm sure you know what I mean."

I felt my otherwise normal blood pressure rise with anger. "The bastard. I've only been in this god forsaken dump for two weeks and he tries to do the dirty on me. You know Ken, I really thought he was a friend of mine, not just my Wife's Lover. I can feel a fucking great dagger stuck in my back. Is there anything you and Janet can do. Antoine as well maybe?"

I could hear Ken's tinny sounding laugh over the airwaves. "Don't take off on one Del!" He knew I hated being called 'Del' so I knew he had some good news and was milking the situation for fun. "She's given him the push. She told him that, although she likes him and his cock well enough, she likes her husband more - that's you by the way. The reason she was a little off with you was because she had just shown Lester the door when you phoned her. She was still upset."

"Oh bloody hell!" I replied. "I had better ring her."

"No! Don't do that Derek. She's staying the night with us tonight and feels a little ashamed. What for I don't know but she will be home tomorrow and will tell you all about it. I think she is trying to gather her thoughts. Janet's playing 'Mother Hen' to her right now and I think she is rather enjoying her role."

Jen had been fond of Lester and probably felt hurt at his betrayal of me. "I"ll ring her tomorrow then." I said to Ken.

"Good idea mate! Try not to think about it for the moment. She's in good company, and the three of us will look after her tonight."

"Thanks Ken," I replied, "give her my love. Tell her I'll ring tomorrow at the usual time." And with that the line went dead.

"Ken and Jan have really been good to me Del," Jen said almost as soon as she picked up the phone. It was next night after a long hot day helping the team to strip down a problematic aeroplane and I had been late making the call to Jen for which, like the good cuckold that I am, I apologised profusely for. "But Antoine has floated an idea for me that I need to talk to you about."

'Oh fuck! I know what's coming.' "What is it love? Is it something I have to worry about?" I replied quietly.

Her voice was equally quiet as she continued. "Antoine and Janet thought that I might be a very good candidate to be auctioned. In one of those T and Ls. Just like Janet was. I said I would talk to you first. It's a big step; but what do you think?"

I felt cold inside. I knew that one day she would think about this. Janet had often talked about how she felt with scores of rich Black Men looking on in appreciation at her naked body and bidding for her like a chattel. Instead of humiliation and apprehension she had felt calm and a sense of erotic anticipation. "My juices just oozed," she once indelicately told Jen.



 "My juices just oozed."

"I thought you needed a husband to witness the sale of a Wife," I asked, "aren't those the rules?"

"They will wave them under certain circumstances," she replied, "if her husband gives permission and she is accompanied by a sponsor. Male or female - it doesn't matter. Janet has already volunteered. So will you think about it Derek? Please?"

"How is it you know so much about it Jen? You rang them didn't you." It was obvious she had and that I was wasting my breath trying to put her off the idea.

We chatted for a little longer and I promised to give my answer the next day but I went to bed that night and saw the sunrise through the hotel window blinds without closing my eyes once. I was drained, worried and headachey; and I had a big day ahead work wise. 'Bloody women!'

The day went better than we hoped and we found the root cause of the lack of engine power and poor flying performance. It was a hard day's work in that furnace and I was dog tired by the time I had dinner and made it to my hotel. I did not want a long conversation, no matter how much Jen meant to me. But I rang her anyway.

The moment she answered I knew by the guarded sound of her voice that she was going to do it. "Did you know that you can offer yourself as a personal slave. They are valued a lot higher than just a Mistress. A few extra pounds wouldn't go amiss would it?" She said, barely discernible over the echo of the sat link.

I was really angry and I know my voice sounded so over the airwaves. "We don't need the extra money Jen. There's no need for such extremes. Any way!, I thought we had discussed this and I was going to have a say in the matter. But you've decided to bloody well do it so what the hell. Just go ahead. Fuck what I think!" And with those words I slammed down the receiver.

My Wife was going to offer herself like a slave to the highest bidding Black Man and I was stuck three thousand miles away in Saudi. I also had, what was for me, an enormous 'hard on' I noticed suddenly. 'Shit! This is turning me on. She's changed the game, there is nothing I can do to stop it and I have the biggest 'stiffy' I have ever had in my life.'

I left it a day before I rang Jen again and after apologising for my temper, I said. "You make sure that you are treated with respect and if anything seems wrong get the hell out. Oh yes! I want Antoine there as well as Janet in case of any trouble. Okay?"

"So you are okay with this Derek?" It was more a question than statement; Jen's very good at that sort of thing. "Because if you are it's going to happen sooner than you think."

"Go on!" I shook with emotion as I replied.

"Tomorrow night." She replied. And I started to physically shake.

"Say again?"

"Antoine said he will take me tomorrow night; and Janet too. So you needn't have suggested it. But I'm touched that you did" 'Was she patronising me?'

"So you had the inspection and interview then! Naked and everything. In front of a complete stranger?"

"Yes! This afternoon. It was all very friendly." She trilled like a girl on her first date. "And the medical check was pretty straightforward."

"Oh that is good to know that my Wife doesn't have venereal disease," was my sarcastic reply, "now that she is selling her body to a rich Black Stud. It fair warms the cockles of my heart." I finished in my best Cockney accent.

I could hear her laughter at the other end. "I shall ring you in a couple of days Luv. Oh yes! The auction starts at eight. So in your time it will be eleven at night won't it?"

I said no more than, "ring me," and put the phone down. I had reports to write and the more I concentrated on them the less time I had to think about Jen standing naked and available in front of prospective Lovers. Sorry but that's a wrong description - Owners.

Jen knew that we were not short of money, in fact by most standards we were well off and wanted for nothing, so why did she volunteer to be a 'slave' and not just a Mistress for the month. The dirty little minx wanted some perverted fun! Not just a rich Lover, but a man who has complete Mastery over her. 'She is going to spend the next thirty days either on her knees or on her back.' I thought; and for some reason I started laughing to myself. I knew that I should be climbing the wall with worry, but I did not and suddenly felt in a good frame of mind. 'She's made her bed. Best of luck to whoever joins her in it. Because when the lights go out my sweet natured little Wife turns into a voracious whore.'

After an undisturbed night's sleep we made progress with the aeroplane and things were starting to look up. A flight test was planned for the next day but I had other things on my mind so I left its preparation to the local team. Shower, dinner and then bed took me to eleven o'clock and I spent the next hours lying in bed thinking of my Wife standing naked in front of a host of aroused and very interested Black Men. 'I wonder how much she went for?' I remember thinking just before I drifted off.

The flight test did not go as well as we had hoped and by the time I got into bed that night I was tired and disillusioned; nevertheless I rang Ken. "She's fine. Antoine knows something about him and she will be treated like a princess. So don't worry Del. His name's Desmond and he's something in the British film industry. Rich as Croesus apparently."

"He's an actor then?" Was my immediate response.

"No! He's a money man of some kind," said Ken.

"Ken!"

"Yes mate?"

"Did Jen actually go as a slave, or was she winding me up?" I held my breath but I needed to know.

"Naked as a Jaybird. Except for collar and chain that is. She went for one point two mil."



"She went for one point two mil."


Next: The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections - part two


Note 1.    Yuppies - Young Upwardly mobile Professional Prick


                

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