Saturday, 25 March 2017

The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections - Part Two

The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections - Part Two


White Sugar


For those who have been following thread about the Tate and Lyle (T&L) Auctions you will recall that it was started by my original submission of August last year of [The Brother's Auction], in which I used my previous experience to present an idea of what used to happen in London just a few years ago, or more than just a few to be honest. I then decided to write about how the T& L Auctions started, how the acronym 'T&L' came about and how I first became aware of them from my friend, or best mate as we say in London, Ken.

Ken had (still has I think) a Wife called Janet who had been bought at an auction on a month's rental by a rich Black Man called Antoine; the couple, needless to say fell in love and stayed together as Lovers after the month was over. As sure as night follows day Janet gave birth to Antoine's baby in January 1987. [The T&L Auctions] It was at this stage, after some soul searching,  that I decided to write about my own personal recollections.

In those days my profession was that of research engineer in the aerospace industry which was a grand title for 'trouble shooter' when aircraft failed to operate as designed, so it was no surprise when my boss Jack asked me to go to Saudi Arabia. I was already a cuckold by this time so I knew my Wife Jen would not be lonely as she already had a Lover called Lester of whom she was very fond, so it was not too much of a problem for me to go. All was going reasonably well, although the work was giving me some problems, my regular Satellite Phone call home to Jen gave me little cause for concern for her at home - that is for two weeks.

A simple question one night from Jen on the Sat Phone rang bells of alarm with me because of the tone of her voice - it wasn't usual for her to ask when I would be coming home - well not in that way anyway. As usual, my antenna as far as my beloved Wife was concerned, was spot on and the following evening Ken confirmed that she had finished with Lester due to him trying to convince her to leave me. I knew that Jen would want another Lover pretty soon but the question was, what was the next step. I already had my suspicions and it didn't take long for them to be confirmed.

Two nights later Jen offered herself for auction, not just as a Mistress, but as a slave. In bed that night in my hotel room I went off to sleep (I was exhausted) knowing that my Wife would be parading naked in front of rich Black Men and be sold as a slave to an unknown man. The following night Ken called me and informed me that she had been bought for one point two million pounds by a rich man called Desmond; in his words - "Naked as a Jaybird. Except for collar and chain." [The T&L Auctions - my personal recollections Part One]

I was three thousand miles away and my Wife no longer had a 'Boyfriend', she now had a 'Master'. And we were richer by four hundred and eighty thousand pounds sterling, which was nice but it wasn't something I cared too much about. What I needed was to know if Jen was okay.

Note: If you wish to access all of the above in an easy access list please go to [Previous Chapters].

So there I was in late October 1988, in the Ryadh, trying to get to the bottom of why our aircraft were not behaving as advertised in temperatures that were relentlessly above 40 degrees centigrade. Was this the cause or was there something else? 

Whatever the reason, I did not need the distraction of my enslaved Wife and how she was coping with her deliberate loss of freedom. I tried to put it out of my mind during the working day but it was always there like a nagging pain and I could not, however much I tried, give the problem one hundred percent of my experience and my intellect.

"It might be two problems Mr Grant," said our local Saudi engineer Omah the following morning, "fuel and hydraulics maybe?"

"That would explain some of the occurrences Omah," I replied distractedly. But I knew that I was not at my best and I was beginning to lose concentration. I was carrying out serious work but all I could see in my mind's eye was my naked Wife cosying up to a handsome well-hung Black Man.

I was bushed by the time I laid my head on the pillow that night. My head ached with having to deal with my erotic visions of Jen alongside recalcitrant aeroplanes. I was grumpy and wanting to go home. 'Fuck the whole thing. Here and at home.' I remember thinking to myself as I drifted off to a very light sleep.

I have never been one for extra sensory perception or clairvoyance, but I dreamt of her. I saw her face in my sleep and she was looking directly at me. Her look was that of quiet confidence and purpose; it was certainly not one of enslavement in spite of the collar around her neck. Was my brain telling me all was well? Or was I missing my Wife so badly that I was now starting to hallucinate. Either way, I just wanted to hear from her.



Her look was that of quiet confidence and purpose.


Aeroplanes can be temperamental things, it's why aerospace engineers often refer to them as 'she' I guess, and the next day we stripped out half of its fuel and hydraulics and found nothing wrong. We checked some tolerances and made some pressure adjustments and planned an air check the following day - again!

I showered, had dinner and a beer at the hotel and lay on my bed. Frustration, boredom and worry were making me emotional so when the room phone rang I answered it with a very grumpy, "Hello!"

"Derek! Are you Okay? Have I called at a bad time?"

It was her. My Jen. And suddenly the room grew misty as I choked back a sob. I was so relieved to hear her voice I just couldn't speak properly. All I managed was a very shaky, "Jen!"

"Derek! Talk to me. You sound upset."

"Oh Christ alive Jen! Where are you? Are you Okay? Why haven't you phoned? I've been so worr............"

Her voice calmed me immediately, "Derek I am fine. More than fine actually. But I am worried now. What's the matter with you. You sound at the end of your tether."

"I feel better now that I have heard your voice at last. I've been sick with worry," I replied, while wiping away the tears that were now coursing down my cheeks, "but I need to hear that you are okay. You are okay aren't you?"

"I just told you. I am more than fine. I am having a marvelous time. Desmond is a wonderful Master. He is kind and gentle, and a really exciting Lover. It's really lovely being his slave. Very ero....."

A bell suddenly rang in my head, "Just wait a cotton picking minute," I interjected, "did you just refer to your new chap, Desmond, as 'Master'?"

I heard her tinny laugh over the phone before she answered, "Of course silly. He bought me as a slave. You do remember that don't you?"

I did remember 'that'. It had been all I could think of for days since my conversation with Ken just a few nights previous. I didn't answer her question because it was self evident that I remembered, but I had another one to ask. "You sound even further away than usual Jen, or is there some interference on the line."

"We are in Monterey, California. Master has a property here by the ocean. We shall be in California for a couple of days then it's back to Europe. Master likes to travel a lot on business. That's probably why we can't hear each other very well." she replied. 'Master' again. We? She seems to have got pretty close in just a few days.

"Don't you mean Desmond?" I asked meaningfully.

There was a short pause on the phone before she replied, "No Derek. Make no mistake, I mean 'Master'. I am his property now as his sex slave, at least for the next few weeks anyway. He is a nice man my sweet! Powerful too - physically and intellectually. You will like him - I promise."

"You sound smitten by him Jen," I said in reply, "Just tell me you are happy. That is all I need to know."



He is a nice man my sweet!

"Very happy Dear. There is no need to worry," she replied.

"You haven't told me about the auction," I said, changing the subject.

"Can we leave it until the next time we meet;" she replied, "sufficient to say that it was an extremely erotic experience, but for the moment I don't think I have the words to describe my emotions. What I do know is that I shall remember it for the rest of my life."

We talked for a little while longer about the job, aeroplanes, how I was coping and her promise to ring me every two days time zone permitting. After she rang off I felt a whole lot better even though I realised that my Wife was in another man's bed on the other side of the world.

In the next day and the one after we made few inroads into the causes of our technical problems and once again I went back to the hotel headachey, tired and fed up. Then the phone rang. 

"I'm in Helsinki," she said over a clearer sat phone signal, "Master is attending a Finnish film festival."

"Rivetting," I replied sarcastically, "Everything still okay?"

"Perfect Derek. Master and me have just got back and are about to go to bed so I can't talk for too long because he is getting a massage from his personal masseur."

"Personal masseur? Is she pretty? You don't have competition, do you?"

Her gentle mocking laughter caused pangs of loneliness and loss in me and it took a while for her to answer, "Is Master's masseur pretty? Let me think! Yes I suppose he is."

We laughed together and chatted about those intimate everyday things a husband and Wife like to share until Jen suddenly broke in and said, "Master has just walked in so I had better go in a minute."

There was a few seconds of silence at her end and I could hear that she was talking to Desmond. "Master says he would like to meet you soon, but I had better ring off now. I am having my neck kissed and you know what that can do to me." 

I murmured an appropriate response and then sat back on the bed with the phone still in my hand listening to the disconnected tone. 'You are sat on your own, in a lonely hotel room knowing that your pretty Wife is being made love to in another hotel bed by a Black Stud she calls Master - right at this very moment, and three and a half thousand miles away from you. You may be an educated engineer, but you are still a cuckold Derek my boy! You should be ashamed; but why is it that your 'little chap' is just like that bolt you unfastened this afternoon - upright, hard and two inches long.' Such was my level of introspection.

I went to sleep that night thinking of Jen with those pretty legs of hers open wide for a man taking his pleasure of her with long deep strokes of his manhood. Of one thing I was certain; she would be happily taking everything that 'Master' was giving her and more besides. Finally I slept.


She would be happily taking everything 
that 'Master' was giving her and more besides.

Two more days of exasperation saw me sat in the hotel room tired and exhausted waiting for Jen's call and, true to her word, the phone rang dead on eleven o'clock that night.

"Where are you now Jen?" I said as I lifted the phone, "Vladivostok? Istanbul? Mars?"

"Athens Derek. Master and I are in the Grande Bretagne. We finished our business in Finland and flew down here yesterday." Her voice was clearer but I could tell there was something happening behind that voice.

"Oh just a couple of thousand miles away. That's heartening." My irony stopped as I asked the usual question, "How are things with you Dear?" Was I getting used to her calling him Master?

"We.. We shall be going on to Rhodes .... mmmmm ....tomorrow for a couple of ......... days just for some fun, sun and a nice hippy beach that Master knows," she replied a little shakily I thought. 



"Fun, sun and a nice hippy beach."

"That'll be nice Jen?" I replied, "Your voice is a little shaky. Is there something wro....." With a sudden certainty I knew exactly what was happening. 

The distant sound over the phone of a creaking bed told me all that I needed to know, "He's fucking you isn't he. Jen? Am I right? He's having you right now while you are talking to me."

"Oh good boy Del! You now understand! Master and me thought it would be a good idea to remind you of my enslavement and get our new way of life started."

"I see! No that's wrong - I can't see. But I think I understand Jen." I said, "But I have to know; are you taunting me or is what you say true. This is for my benefit."

"Do you want to hear my Master, who is a total ......... stranger to you for the moment, take  your Wife, with his big p-p-penis while you listen imm...potently two thousand miles away. Do you?"

I remained silent, listening to the noises of love and passion coming down the line. I did want to hear but I knew that if I said yes it would encourage her more. I looked down at my groin and, without me knowing, my penis was rock hard again - and I already knew the answer.

"Do you Derek? Do you m-m-m-my sweet ...... brave little cuckold hubby."

I remained silent, unable to speak.

"Do you Derek?"

"Yes!"

"Say it again my Love."

"Yes. I want to hear you making love to your Master."

She said nothing more and neither did I. I just sat with the phone against my ear listening to Jen being fucked soundly and expertly by a better man than me. I marveled at his technique as he took her close to the final orgasm only to hold back; again and again he thrust hard into her and brought them both to the edge until finally this total stranger's seed streamed into my screaming but happy Wife.

The phone went dead but still I sat there panting with excitement. Looking down again, I could see that my little penis was now soft and that there was a little wet patch on my trousers.

I showered again and went to bed. As I lay down I realised that Jen had understood that what had been a remote and disconnected set of circumstances for me in a far away place, should now be brought into my own reality. She was bringing my cuckold status back into my life - I could no longer hide away.

Contrary to her promise, she didn't phone two nights later so it was a very grumpy Derek that went to work on the third day. I snarled at everybody and my team's hurt looks told me that the loss of my usual good mood was confusing them. Even the gentle and respectful Omah gave me a wide birth.

The aeroplane, just to add to my woes, decided to start flying where it wanted to and not where the pilot pointed it, as well as suffering an in-flight engine failure. I left work in the same filthy mood that I had gone to work in so the customary lovely smile from the hotel receptionist was not greeted by my own that night. 

We do not converse very often so it was with some surprise when she spoke as she gave me my key card,"Mr Grant. I have a message for you. Mister Shemak would like you to join him in Room 1701."

I sighed with impatience. "I am a little tired," I replied, "did he tell you the reason. And I don't know a Mr Shamak."

'Maybe it's about the bloody aeroplane. They've sent someone out from London. Sod it - I'd better go.' I thought.

"Did you say Room 1701 Yasmin?" I said to the thoroughly nice girl who had not deserved my poor manners. She smiled warmly as she confirmed it nevertheless.

The lift shot through the 3rd Floor where my room was and seemed to take forever to get to the 17th level. 'Almost the top floor. It must be a bloody executive. Maybe I'm being fired.'

There were only two rooms on the floor and the two guards standing outside 1701 looked capable. I was beginning to be worried. As I approached, one of the guards looked down at a photograph and then looked back at me - clearly recognising me he smiled and said, "Go straight in Mr Grant. You're expected."

Reaching behind him, the other guard slid a card key in the slot and then pushed the door open. Stepping into the room I was greeted with a site of pure but tasteful opulence, a large picture window of the city and the fading light of the desert beyond.

A large man, a Black Man, got up out of a big armchair and approached me with his hand held out. "Derek," he said in a deep booming voice, "my name is Shamak. Desmond Shamak."

I was dog tired, sweaty and needing to piss, consequently I was not at my sharpest. Clearly my reaction was not what he had expected because my lack of comprehension must have showed on his face.

Still clutching my outstretched hand, he said with a smile, "I'm Desmond. Jennifer's Master."

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