So, this is my first USxUK story. I'm not quite sure what time period it's set in... probably sometime in the 17-1800's. It's an AU, because obviously there weren't too many British slaves wandering around the US back then. Please let me know if you find any glaring plot holes or grammatical errors. That would be embarrassing :P
Alfred sat rigid and unmoving in the hard wooden seat that marked the end of the first row in the theatre. He gazed unblinkingly at the dirty wooden floorboards between his feet, refusing to look at the tall, foreboding stage that covered a large portion of the room. Around him, excited bidders gossiped about the latest imports. It made him sick. Next to him, Tony gave a loud yawn, shuffling his feet impatiently.
"Don't be so gloomy. These auctions are all the rage amongst the social elite –which, deny it as much as you want, you are a member of- and it's only fitting that you attend at least one in our lifetime."
Alfred grunted, unconvinced. "Let's just get this over with."
Tony persisted, pouting like a kicked puppy at his friend's words. "It'll be fun, Al! These aren't like normal auctions, you'll see. The bidding gets pretty intense. Even if you don't feel like buying something-" Alfred shuddered, his stomach curling in disgust at the thought of people attending these auctions for fun, "-You still get quite a show. But I don't think that's going to happen today. They just got a new shipment in with items from all over the world, so you'll probably end up bidding. Everyone does." He continued to ramble on as Alfred focused once more on the floor, pointedly ignoring him.
Alfred was 17 when the United States began importing slaves. The trade had started in Africa, but quickly spread to other parts of the world, reaching as far as Europe and Asia in a year. Even Canadians were not spared, as the more ruthless traders would often pillage the eastern shores of Newfoundland, taking all that they could. At first, the slave trade was frowned upon, but the trade quickly grew to be a major part of the American economy and soon any reservations about the treatment of slaves had vanished. 'It didn't help that the majority of slave owners had never set foot outside the United States,' Alfred thought bitterly. His brother Matthew lived in Canada, and often wrote to the wealthy American about how the traders were growing bolder, taking children as young as eight without remorse. The Canadian had been devastated when slave traders had raided his own village two years previously, claiming eight small children and killing four more. Matthew was 21 now; a year younger than his American brother, and still couldn't understand why they had done it. Alfred didn't know either. All he knew was that slavery was commonplace amongst the American social elite. And after nearly half a year of excuses, he had finally agreed to attend an auction, determined not to bid.
A loud, booming voice emitting from center stage interrupted the one-way discussion. Alfred flicked his eyes in the general direction of the announcer, taking in the odd appearance of the man striding across the stage. His long blonde hair fluttered about his neck and shoulders as he approached the auction block.
The man was dressed in a deep burgundy suit, which clashed horribly with his piercing blue eyes. Flinging his arms out extravagantly, he addressed the excited bidders. "Welcome esteemed gentlemen, to our auction. I assure you, the merchandise you will find here is of the topmost quality, imported from a variety of far off lands, chosen specially to suit your needs. Of course, respectable gentlemen like yourselves would expect nothing less I'm sure, so I'll just go over the standard procedure, and we'll let the auction commence!"
Alfred rolled his eyes at the strange man's theatrics. How he could be so enthusiastic about his job was a mystery.
The announcer continued, voice growing in volume as he neared the end of his speech. "Remember, raise your card and call out a price if you wish to bid. If not, kindly remain seated. The lucky winners will be able to pick up their new possessions after the show, behind the stage. Now, without farther ado, let the auction commence!"
The audience erupted into applause and the man strode off the stage, blowing kisses and waving maniacally only to return a moment later, a long thick rope in hand. "And now," he paused for dramatic effect, "Our newest shipment!" He pulled on the rope, grinning cruelly as a line of about 20 slaves stumbled onto the stage.
Alfred couldn't help but gape in shock. The slaves ranged from as young as twelve to as old as 30. They had no clothes, as to be expected at this type of event, and were joined together by a thick rope strung through the silver rings on their collars. Alfred found himself wishing for the hundredth time that day that he had stayed home. He could see welts and bruises on many of the slaves, presumably from their rough treatment on the journey over seas. The majority of the slaves were male, but he could make out three females in the line, looking just as anxious and worried as their male counterparts.
The auctioneer strode down the line, continuing with his sales pitch as though nothing was out of the ordinary. "As you can see, the variety we have here is astounding. Some of these fine specimens have yet to be broken in, having only received the basic training. Others have been schooled for months, and have attained the skills necessary to please even the most outrageous of masters. Take a good look gentlemen, these beautiful tools wish nothing more than to service you to the best of their abilities. The bidding and assessment will commence in a few minutes."
Alfred took another look at the line of captives, wishing he could run up to the stage and free them all. His visions of glory were shattered moments later, as the auctioneer pulled out a shortened bullwhip, cracking it menacingly at the slaves. Alfred was close enough to see their cowed faces, the dead emptiness that rang in every set of eyes as the crack of the whip sounded again.
Tony whispered in his ear, as if reading his thoughts. "Don't worry Alfred. He never hurts them, not badly at least. It's just a bit of discipline to get them ready for the auction. I've been to dozens of these auctions and I've never seen more than a few slaves beaten."
Alfred looked at his friend, shocked. "That's a bullwhip Tony! How can you say that?"
"It's not like they're not used to it. Besides, the whip is usually only used on the bad ones. If they don't step out of line, they'll be fine." As he spoke, another crack sounded form the stage, followed by a small whimper.
Alfred quickly faced the stage again, ignoring his friend in favour of watching the small confrontation that was taking place. The auctioneer had apparently hit one of the women, thus provoking a small blonde chained next to her. Alfred watched entranced as the youth screamed at the auctioneer, his emerald eyes blazing as he tried to stand in front of the angry man's helpless victim. The auctioneer flicked the whip across the boy's chest, smirking at the thin line of red that appeared on the otherwise pale skin. The blonde remained silent, glaring daggers at his tormentor even as the whip descended again on his unprotected flesh, carving through the skin and muscle easily. He was hit again and again, the auctioneer cackling at the applause that filled the building at the sight of blood. Alfred couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, not even when another man came from behind the stage and pressed a thin silver needle to the blonde's neck, effectively stopping any and all protests. The emerald-eyed youth stumbled and fell, his eyes fluttering shut. He hung, suspended by his collar for a few moments before the slaves on either side of him managed to hoist him up by his arms. The auctioneer cackled again, kicking his unconscious victim before bending forward in an elegant bow and striding offstage. The slaves were pulled after him, and the wealthy elite were left alone to speculate on what they had seen.
Alfred still couldn't tear his eyes away from what he had witnessed. The pain in the emerald-eyed mans eyes haunted his mind. The boy had looked to be roughly the same age as him, perhaps slightly younger, and he had been whipped, chained, and treated like livestock. It made him sick, but he couldn't leave now. He had worked hard to become one of Boston's top businessmen, and he couldn't bear the thought of backing out, of exposing weakness in front of the spectators that filled the crowded room. Some of his greatest rivals were participating in this auction, and he would never be able to restore his reputation if he left. It was not right for a man of his class to leave, simply because of the mistreatment of a few slaves. Even though he really wanted to. He stared at the floor until the booming voice of the auctioneer rang out across the stage, announcing the start of the individual bidding.
After a few more minutes of barely contained excitement –or in Alfred's case, dread-, the ever-enthusiastic auctioneer bounded back onstage, excitedly approaching the podium. "And now," he announced, "Our first item!" A timid Asian man was pushed onto the stage. "Standing at 5'5, lot #1 is most recognized for his skill in the kitchen. He can make a variety of delicacies to suit your refined tastes, but is also useful for a variety of household tasks. He is very obedient and has completed his basic training. He is gently used, but don't let that stop you…" The auctioneer continued to describe the man onstage, circling him like a predatory beast on the hunt and pointing out specific attributes that would sound appealing to potential buyers. Finally, the bidding started. Alfred pretended to look uninterested, refusing to look anywhere near the stage as he was sold as the men (and few women) around him leapt out of their seats to bid. They were like animals, he thought disgustedly, fighting over these people as though they were nothing more than slabs of meat.
The rest of the auction continued in this manor, with the slaves being brought onto the stage, inspected, and sold. Finally, the auctioneer announced the last lot. The young man from earlier was pushed onto the stage, his knees buckling beneath him as he crashed to the ground. Alfred looked up at the noise, startled at the sight of the rebellious slave from earlier. His hands were cuffed in front of him in iron manacles, which were connected to a large wooden plank. Two stagehands dragged him upright, attaching opposite ends of the wooden bar to two thick chains that hung from the ceiling. Alfred noticed that the man was only semi-conscious, his hazy green eyes occasionally blinking open to stare uncomprehendingly at the audience. The two stagehands then stood to the side, giving the audience a perfect view of the defeated man that hung between them. His head fell forward as the board was hoisted farther into the air, dragging him upwards until his feet could only brush uselessly against the wooden floor. The long, red marks from earlier were still plainly visible on his chest.
The auctioneer strode forward, cupping his captive's chin in his hands as he began his sales pitch. "This specimen was captured off the coast of England, which explains his barbaric nature," he paused as the audience laughed and jeered, "And is significantly lesser than the previous lots that we displayed. However, everything must be sold, so we will start the bidding at $10,000, which as many of you will note, is a significant price reduction." The audience gasped as the Briton lifted his head at this and spat in the auctioneer's face. He grinned weakly at the audience, his eyes travelling around the room before resting on Alfred. Alfred jumped back, startled, but held his gaze, the emerald eyes commanding his attention. He couldn't look away. The emerald-eyed man suddenly jerked back, the crack of a slap to the face echoing through the room. The auctioneer calmly wiped the spit off his face, slapping his captive again before turning to face the audience. "He has no redeeming qualities, and would be best put to work in the fields. As you can see, he is untamable. He failed his basic training, which should come as no surprise, and should not be treated as anything other than the lowest form of vermin. If you have some unspent anger or frustration, this is the slave for you. Let the bidding commence." Alfred was giving the auctioneer his full attention now, his gaze never once wavering from the evil man on the stage. He sought out the piercing emerald eyes once more, but they were directed at the ground. Alfred suddenly noticed the man was shaking, thin tracks of tears running along his cheeks.
A large man at the back of the room stood, and announced in a booming voice, "$10,000". Alfred turned to stare at the bidder, recognizing the fearsome man instantly. Ivan Braginski, known abuser of slaves and Alfred's biggest competitor. The American's insides twisted at the thought of the green-eyed blonde chained to Ivan's bed. He was may not have attended an auction before, but he knew the purpose of the training the slaves underwent. They were trained to be sex slaves, doomed forever to entertain their masters with their bodies, silent and complacent for fear of a beating. Of course, many people purchased the slaves for domestic work, which is why the auctioneer tried to emphasize as many traits as possible, but the overwhelming majority were used for sexual gratification before being thrown aside. Alfred took another look at the green-eyed man, steeling his resolve. "$12,000".
Ivan glanced in his direction, surprised at the bid. "$15,000"
"$20,000"
"$25,000"
Alfred looked to the stage again, wondering what exactly possessed him to get into a bidding war with Ivan. The slave had lifted his head again, his eyes meeting Alfred's once more. Alfred stared steadily back, gazing into the emerald depths. For a moment, he could see the pain, suffering, and humiliation in the haunted green pools, before the man's gaze turned decidedly neutral. And in that moment, Alfred knew he had to have him. "Do we have $30,000?"
Alfred turned back to the auctioneer, taking a breath before speaking. "$50,000."
The audience gasped at the sudden jump in price. Out of the corner of his eye, the American watched Ivan sit down, angrily clenching his hands even as he smiled disarmingly. "He's all yours, comrade."
The auctioneer called out to the audience in a half-hearted attempt to resume the bidding, but it was clear to everyone that Alfred had won. Finally, he clapped his hands together, signaling the end of the sale and positively writhing in false excitement. "Sold, to the fine gentleman in the front!"
Alfred groaned. What had he gotten himself into?
So...I'm thinking of continuing this. Depends. It's off an old prompt from the kink meme, but I think this is going to focus on more plot than porn. The slavery idea is intriguing. But it is M for a reason, because there may be some sex in later chapters, (at the very least there will mentions of Arthur's past, including his capture).
Let me know what you think?
-Meg