Date: Sat, 13 Mar 2010 21:17:20 -0800 (PST)
From: JKBlackhouse <jkblackhouse@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brothers & Slaves: Chapt. 33: House Slaves

This is a work of fiction. The characters are invented. It is intended
solely for the fantasy entertainment of persons, age 18 or older, who want
to read about gay sex and male slavery. If you are not at least 18 years
old and/or this is not what you want, read no further.

Copyright 2009. All rights reserved by the author.
JKBlackhouse

Brothers & Slaves:
Characters so far:

Danny 17, currently the narrator, high school junior, on soccer & track teams;
Ken 18,  Danny's older brother, athletic body, high school senior, plays
football, 	baseball & wrestles;
Gary 15, Danny's younger brother, young stud, high school freshman, footballer;
Tuck 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Don, soccer & track;
Don 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Tuck, backup quarterback.
Joey, 16, teammate of Danny and leader of team's turning him into their
shaved 	cocksucker;
Tim, 17, personal house slave of Ken, Danny and Gary;
Mr. Howard, owner, a slave training facility.
James: head slave of the family household.
Ron, 18, classmate and formerly Master of Ken


Chapt. 32: This Is A Hiking Trip?
Danny

925 came forward, attached leashes to each of our collars, and led us away.
Apparently Mr. Howard was finished with us. We were led to the marking shop
and there Ron and I were stretched spread-eagled, first on our stomachs and
then on our backs, to receive the "S" tattoo that would now mark us for
life as former slaves. Ken naturally was already marked. What in the world
did Master Howard now have in mind for us? I simply could not imagine.
Would he really keep us more than a week?

Chapt. 33: House Slaves
Danny

If we were to be kept more than the full week I'd expected and signed up
for, if our fathers had really given Mr. Howard permission to keep us
indefinitely, I would find out after seven days. That I knew, and not much
else. I'd been a pony slave briefly for Mr. Howard and later a field
hand. What did he have in mind now?

Both questions, duration and work, were answered over the next two weeks,
so yes, our fathers had turned us over to Mr. Howard as slaves. What about
school? When I thought about it, I was basically finished with my junior
year, as was Ron was with his senior year. We could miss what remained of
school and still be on track, that is, if we were released by the the start
of school in the fall. As for work, we spent those two weeks being
intensively trained as house slaves. Yes, naked, hairless boys, hobbled,
buttplugged, cocks locked under our balls, flopping around as we ran from
task to task.

We learned how to serve at table, offering food and removing plates. How to
pour water and wine, to pass drinks or small nibbles at a reception, how to
show respect at all times to those we were serving and how to keep our
mouths closed except to say "Yes, Sir (or Mam)" or "Immediately Sir," or
"Thank you, Sir." How to take orders from guests and return to the guest
with whatever we'd been told to bring.

We learned to sink to our knees when a guest wished it, ready to suck cock
or lick boots, our asses always plugged, our dicks and minds always seeking
permission to cum. In those two weeks, we were allowed to cum just
once. For each of us, this meant we went well over a week, in my case two
weeks, without an orgasm. As I rushed about serving and cleaning, the plug
kept fucking me and turning me on but my dick, as it was locked, could not
even get hard. It was a constant reminder that I was now truly a slaveboy
and that my life was now out of my hands and belonged to Mr. Howard - as
did Ron's and Ken's for now.

With two weeks training behind us, we'd been guessing that Mr. Howard was
going to sell each of us off as house slaves. This really scared us, to
both be slaves and to be without each other. What else could he possibly
have in mind? Well, we weren't sold off after all; instead, Mr. Howard's
plan was to rent us out, humiliating us and making money in the bargain.

Our first rental was to a large family named Brent. There was father Brent,
grandfather and grandma Brent, Mrs. Brent, and two sons, Jonathan and
Nelson, ages 17 and 16, and two daughters, Diane and Kathy, ages 15 and 14,
so all were teenagers and you know what that meant, lots of sadism and sex,
though all in reasonably good fun. The girls carefully examined our chained
cocks and balls, feeling up our dicks which swelled from the attention but
could not actually get hard or straight. It was really frustrating but at
least it was girls so Ron and I felt no attraction but for Ken, the
sometimes hetero, it was a different story. They made him wild and he
twisted and turned and did everything he could to escape them, but he was a
slave and so had no choice but to endure it. For Ron and me, it was funny
as we watched it though humiliating as we experienced it ourselves.

But then there were the boys. All three of us were soon in their shared
bedroom being felt up by them. Jonathan was enjoying running his hands over
our smooth bodies, marveling at the feel of the hairless skin in places
where boys usually have hair, like our pits and pubes. Nelson did some
stroking as well, but he soon had Ron on his knees undressing him. Once
naked, Nelson lay on his bed and ordered Ron to lick his entire body, even
his asshole. As Ron began with his toes, Nelson said that he'd always
fantasied having this done and indeed, his boner was sticking right out and
up from his hairy pubes and a little inward toward his stomach. It had
taken no time to become fully engorged and he was soon moaning from the
pleasure of Ron licking his chest, nipples and armpits (also hairy).

As it turned out, I was the object of Jonathan's desire. He stroked my
body, especially my chest. It felt delicious. Why oh why had Mr. Howard
left it impossible for me to get a hard-on? Well, that needs no answer. But
when Jonathan started licking my chained cock and balls, I went crazy with
desire, twisting from side to side, actually doing partial situps, moaning
and begging that he stop. But stop he would not. He was enjoying my
distress too much. I leaked some precum. He scooped it up with his
forefinger and fed it to me. I couldn't help myself, I was so turned on, I
actually grabbed him and kissed him. Of course, I should have been thrashed
for taking such a liberty but instead he soon had his tongue exploring my
mouth and allowed me to explore his. It was really hot, except I couldn't
get hard. My PA was being pulled hard by my cockhead trying to rise and it
started to hurt really bad.

To escape Jonathan's attention to my dick, I rolled over onto my stomach,
pulled the plug from my ass, and said, "please, Sir, fuck this slave really
hard, Sir." I needed it by then. Jonathan didn't hesitate, he had me turn
my head so I could lick his dick to moisten it, and he plunged in, hard,
really hard and at full mast. I screamed from the the initial pain, but was
soon moaning from the pleasure he was giving me as he pumped his dick in
and almost out of my ass. My precum was staining his sheets, it wasn't my
fault. It was his doing.

His motion over my prostate had me thrashing around again,. We were both
sweating plenty. Ken joined in, starting to rim Jonathan's ass and reaching
round to pinch his nipples. That got Jonathan so hot, he became a piston,
fucking my ass. And then something wonderful happened, as he reared back as
he came with a loud shout, I actually shot a little cum as well, not a full
orgasm to be sure, but at least a bit of one. Now I came without permission
and so had earned a second beating but Jonathan was pleased. He turned me
over, scooped up my small mound of cum, and had me suck it (eagerly) from
his finger. Then he fell on me, his sweat and mine sticking his chest to
mine. It was heavenly, the best.

Once he rolled off me, I quickly bent to kiss his feet and thank him for
his fuck and, though it should not have happened, for forcing me to cum a
little. I think Ron and Ken were really jealous and they would have gladly
spanked my ass had it been their place. But it wasn't, so they sort of
sulked some. The two Sirs, both naked, decided that Ron would bathe Nelson
in the shower and then Ken and I would bathe Jonathan. It was fun. We got
both of them hard again so I went down on Nelson and Ken on Jonathan. Being
about our ages, they had no great difficulty in cumming again and enjoyed
seeing we slaves swallowing their boy cum. Unfortunately, Mr. Brent took
that moment to open the door, no knock, and walk in.

What he saw was five naked boys, three of them in collars and chains,
hairless, and the other two his free sons who still had their dicks in my
and Ken's mouths. Both boys immediately withdrew. "Well," said Mr. Brent,
"I see my sons have been making use of the slaves I rented for tonight's
party. Had a frolic boys? Get dressed, NOW." He was not pleased, but after
all, we were not to blame, were we?

Well, slaves are always to blame and we were soon standing in his
punishment room. He stretched Ron over the leather horse and had us tie him
down. The thing was built with openings at tit and cock levels. He attached
a vicious looking set of teethed clamps on poor Ron's tits. Ron could not
help himself, he screamed and screamed in agony. Mr. Bent added a leather
band with inside pinpricks around Ron's cock and balls. From Ron's
contortions and screams, it too was clearly agonizing. Mr. Bent smiled, I
guess it turned him on to hurt boys. He ordered Ken and me to undress him
and to suck his cock so it was hard and moist. I'll say this, for a man in
his forties or fifties, Mr. Bent had a great body. Hairy chest, pits and
pubes, a nice pleasure trail still there, and good sized organs.

First he removed the plug from Ron's ass. Then he finger fucked him, one
finger, two, three, he soon had Ron moaning from the pleasure, no more
screams. When he was ready, he just put the head of his manly 8 incher at
Ron's hole, and then, without warning, plunged in. Ron screamed and kept
screaming as Mr. Bent started to ream his ass. The more Ron screamed, the
more Mr. Bent looked as though he was enjoying himself. After perhaps five
minutes or more of painful pumping, Mr. Bent groaned and shot off inside
Ron. But he wasn't finished. His dick still in Ron's ass, he started
spanking first one ass cheek, then the other. Hard smacks. By now, Ron was
crying. Who wouldn't be? But that was not all, Mr. Bent pissed up Ron's
chute before pulling out and immediately after doing so, he stuffed the
plug back up Ron's ass, entrapping his piss. Ron was clearly exhausted and
could only groan. Now he'd been given a piss enema but could not shit it
out.

Leaving Ron there to suffer, Mr. Bent attached nasty clamps to Ken's and my
nipples and then had us wash him down in the shower off the playroom. After
we'd dried him off, we both stayed wet since he'd not given us permission
to use his towel to dry off. As he left the basement, he told us we could
release Ron and clean him up. He told us there were no towels for slaves
and so left us to drip dry. He had not removed our tit clamps and we were
forbidden to remove Ron's except for the brief time needed to release him
from the horse. As we showered off Ron, we barely spoke, each thinking no
doubt, as I did, great heavens, what had I gotten into?

The next two hours were spent in the kitchen assisting the slave staff in
preparing for Mr. Brent's dinner party. They too were all plugged, it
looked like the plugs were pretty massive, and each had weights hanging
from his tit rings. They were each locked in heavy metal chastity pouches,
so they could neither see nor touch themselves. I figured it must be hell,
literally hell, to be a slave of Mr. Brent. Except for giving us or
eachother directions, there was absolutely no conversation. They must not
be allowed to speak unless necessary or with permission. It was one scary
place.

Now I have to interrupt to talk about my interest in slavery. Some of this
I've said before but some not. From as far back as I can remember, maybe to
four years old, I was fascinated by our house slaves, and then by those at
school and at the houses of our friends whom we'd visit. They were almost
always bare chested and usually had no body hair. But the few who were
allowed pit or pubic hair were in some ways the most fascinating, for they
were so much more like ordinary free men. Naturally all had collars and
genital bands and usually ball bands, as I now did.

Almost without exception, they were quietly compliant and generally treated
us very nicely. I was consumed by the way in which they received and
immediately obeyed orders, even from we young boys. I fear we teased and
sometimes physically hurt them though never meanly, always in fun. But fun
for us was not necessarily fun for them. To this, we gave no
thought. Slaves were slaves and that's all they were.

By the time I was ten or eleven, I began to imagine what it was like to
have to go about naked in front of men and women (and kids), to wear
collars and other restraints, to always be deferent, to call everyone Sir,
or Master, or Mam or Miss. My brother Ken, a year older than me, began to
enjoy making me behave like I was a slave and by the time we were in our
teens, both Ken and Gary were often treating me as though I were a
slave. The real problem was that when they did it, I'd get a boner and
actually want to serve, and service, them. As you know, eventually Gary
realized this, and took charge of me, really treating me as his slave.

There was something in me that yearned to serve, to submit. That was it. I
felt others should dominate me and I should submit to their will. I wanted
to. I'd jerk off thinking about it. The joy of submission. My gift to a
dominant man. On the other hand, this idea really scared me which is why,
eventually, I had wanted to visit Mr. Howard's center and try it out. Of
course, I had no idea that this time I would be doing it for real and that
my father knew and wanted me to be trained. That was a hell of a surprise.

Serving and submitting was one thing, but a life of permanent servitude, to
be a slave not just a submissive, that worried me. I was not at all sure it
was for me. And I realized, if it were to happen, baring something
unforeseen like what happened to Ken, it would mean volunteering for that
life, giving up my freedom of my own will. Could I do that? Did I wish to
do that? Was there another path to submission that didn't require me to
totally relinquish my status as a free man? I didn't know.

Enough about my thoughts and fantasies for a while. I had loved the play
with Jonathan and Nelson, but that was play. What Mr. Brent had done was
quite another thing and so was serving as a kitchen helper at the bottom of
the totem pole. The three of us, together with one of the Brent's house
slaves, were eventually ordered to set the table, It was to be a dinner for
thirty-six, quite an affair. It was the Brent's twentieth anniversary I
learned, so it would be a real occasion. I had a feeling, a pretty awful
feeling, that before the night was over, Ken, Ron and I were going to end
up as the evening's entertainment. Now that was scary.


Copyright 2009 JKBlackhouse. All rights reserved by the author. This work
may not be reproduced, except for personal use, without permission of the
author. Reproduction for any other use is prohibited.

Many thanks for the continuing stream of emails. Comments, story ideas,
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