Date: Tue, 1 Apr 2003 22:35:55 +0100 (BST)
From: hugh masters <questorius@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Chattel

An unpleasant story of sexual domination and slavery, told entirely in
dialogue, by Hugh Masters. Contact: questorius@yahoo.com.uk

Chattel n. 1. an item of personal moveable property such as furniture,
domestic animals etc. 2. goods and chattels, personal property.(from Old
French chatel, personal property.)

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I must say, you seem very relaxed in London traffic, Khaled.

Ah my friend, here is no problem after Cairo.  There is madness!  You
English are so considering.  Considering?

Considerate?

Just so!  And so kind.  The week-end at your farm in Sussex, delightful.
All so green! Your charming wife, your boys, your horses...

Not my horses, my wife's.  That is why she will not come with me to Cairo.
Six months away from her darlings is not acceptable.  Turn left at the
lights here.  I showed her pictures of your fantastic apartment, the
terrace, the glass fountain, the palatial rooms, but even the prospect of
living in such luxury would not persuade her.  I fear my London flat is
poor exchange for you.

I am sure I will be very comfortable.

Even though it is on the third floor, with no lift?  You are a big man and
not so young and fit as when we first met.

Nor you my friend, though I agree, you are not having the belly like me. My
big unhappiness is that I cannot bring my pretty Abdul with me.  Sometimes
your English regulations are not so considerate.  He was not happy when I
explained about our exchange - and that I expected him to provide to you
the - ah - personal services he gives me.

Well at least my modest flat can match yours in that respect.  It too is
"fully serviced" as you know.  He's a good cook too but you will have to
train him to prepare food the way you like it.

He too is unhappy to be having a new master?

I haven't told him yet.

By the Prophet, why not?

It didn't seem important.  He'll do as he is told.

But what if he doesn't like me?

What has that got to do with it?  A fuck-slave does not choose his Master.
If you like him, keep him.  If not, toss him out.

But what about when you return?  Would you not want him to be there?

It's not a problem.  London is full of fuck-meat eager to serve a masterful
man - especially one who can provide a comfortable home and free meals.

Really?  You surprise me.  In Egypt it is of course easy to go to some poor
village and to buy a pretty boy from his peasant father, no questions
asked, but I would have thought it different in England.

Well, yes it is.  Here it is not necessary to buy a house-slave, they come
free!  There are plenty to choose from and all you have to do is take your
pick.  There are always more slaves than masters so they think themselves
lucky to find an owner.  That makes them very amenable.

Amenable?

Eager to please.

Ah!  I think I am going to enjoy living in London. Tell me about the
peoples in the other flats. They are nice?

I hardly know them.  We keep to ourselves and, remember, I am only here on
Thursday nights as a rule, so I don't see much of them.  There's a retired
civil servant in the flat below - rather deaf which is good - and a couple
of lesbians on the ground floor, one a textile designer I believe, the
other a teacher. So no problem there either.

One night a week - so your boy does not have to work too hard for his food
and shelter.  The rest of the time he is free?

Er, yes and no. We have a simple arrangement.  He is always to be there,
naked and available for use at any time.  Occasionally if I get randy at
midday and can spare the time, I'll nip out here for a quick fuck.

So he is a prisoner?  Always available in case of unexpected need?

Not quite.  Always available, yes, but of course he has to go out shopping
for food and so on. So he can come and go as he pleases, on the
understanding that if I come and he's not there, he gets beaten.  Simple!

Is that fair?

No.

What about your famous English "fair play"?

Oh those rules don't apply to fuck-meat. Turn left again in front of that
parked van.  This is it.  A nice quiet street, trees on both sides, solid
Victorian terrace houses.  Number 36, just here.  You can pull into the
forecourt.  We even have off-street parking, a real luxury in London!  What
do you think?

It looks very fine.  Very respectable.  Very discreet.

The mad thing is that property prices are so insane in London that one
floor of this costs as much as your virtual palace in Cairo!

Oh, please, Michael, my humble home is no palace.

Just teasing, Khaled.  Come on, in we go.  Leave your bags here, the boy
can hump those up later.  This is the key to the street door. Be sure
always to close it behind you.  Now, ready for the stairs? ...

Phew!  It is...quite a climb...much further?

Rest a moment.  You've worked up quite a sweat!  You'll have to train the
boy to meet you with cold flannels - or an eager tongue.

He licks sweat, this boy?

He'll do whatever you train him to do.  Only one more landing. OK?

OK.  What is his name, this sweat-eater?

Name?  I don't think I know.  I just call him "Boy" and he comes running.

He sounds very obedient.

Oh yes.  Very!  He's been well trained.  Here we are.  After you...  What
the fuck do you think you are doing, boy, dressed in my bathrobe?  Get it
off NOW!

Yes Sir.  Sorry Sir.  I heard voices on the stair and thought if you had a
visitor you might be embarrassed if I was ... like this.

When I come through that door I expect to find you naked save for your jock
strap and slave collar. Every time. EVERY time, is that clear you stupid
turd?

Sir. Yes Sir. Sorry Sir.

Out of my way.  So, this is the living room, Khaled. Reasonably spacious.
That's the good thing about these old properties - room to swing a cat - of
any kind!

Is beautiful Michael.  So elegant.  So simple.

No glass fountains, chandeliers or gilded sofas I'm afraid. Two beers, boy!

Ah but such taste.  This carved head is very fine.  Is Etruscan?

No archaic Greek actually.  From the Cyclades, but the archaic smile is
like Etruscan I agree.  Make yourself at home - after all it is your home
for the next six months.  And here's my "cup-bearer" with a cold beer to
cool you. Cheers.

Cheers.

No, don't go, boy.  Let our guest see you.  What do you think, Khaled?  Is
the meat to your taste?

Very much!  Very much indeed!  The skin so white, so smooth.  I like white
skin.  How old is he?

About twenty I think.

Slim, but nicely muscled too.

I make him go to the gym twice a week to keep in shape.

I fear my Abdul may not be to your taste with his brown body - though I
chose him because he is pale by our standards.

Not at all. I liked Abdul a lot - and found him very skilled in bed and
very eager to please.

But just look at those pretty pink nipples.  Like rosebuds.

And they are marvellously sensitive too.  And most unusually erectile.  You
have only to brush the back of your knuckles across them and they leap
erect.

May I?

Be my guest.

Come here boy.  Closer...  Hmm, I see what you mean.  Most impressive.
They really swell up don't they, and just at the lightest touch.  And what
about between his legs?  That swells up as easily?

Drop your jock strap boy, let the gentleman see.

By Allah!  What contraption is this?

Have you not seen one before?  It stops him getting an erection.  He's a
randy little bugger and I found he was jerking off twice, even three times
a day.  Now he has to wait for me to unlock him - it means he's always
eager to see me.

Is it painful for him?  It looks painful.

No I don't think so.  A bit uncomfortable perhaps.  It has this special key
to open it.  I guess you should have it now.  Here.

Thanks.  It goes in here?

Thats it, then the sheath lifts up and the two side pieces hinge open.
That's it, simple really.

And he gets the immediate erection!

Yes, well, you've just been touching up his tits.  I told you, he's got
extremely sensitive tits.

Turn round boy, let's see your bum.  Oh! I see he is not always so
obedient, you've obviously had to discipline him quite severely.

The stripes?  No, that was not punishment, I just like to give him a
thrashing occasionally.  Mainly because I enjoy it but also it keeps him in
line - reminds him who's boss. I cane him about once a month.

How old are these marks?

Last Thursday.  Today is Monday, so four days.

And still they look tender.  Come here boy, let me feel.  Ho! see how he is
flinching when I handle him!  Four, five, six weals.  Only six, but you
must have been very severe.

Quality, not quantity.  That's what I believe in.  Don't you beat Abdul?

Only when he has been lazy or naughty.  Then I put him over my knee and
spank him. Hmm, it would be interesting to spank this bottom with its
already tenderness.

I don't think he would like that.  He hates being spanked for some reason.

Are you saying I should not be doing this to him?

Not at all my friend.  He hates the cane too, but what the hell, I like
caning boy arse so he gets caned.  If you like to spank, you spank!

I am seeing marks across his back and shoulders too.  Faint marks.  Old
marks but not a cane I think?  You whip him too?

Ah, that was for discipline.  Yes, a month ago I guess.  He was not here
when I came and he paid the price.  Would you like to have a look round the
rest of the flat, Khaled?  The bedroom's through there and the kitchen -
what the hell, you'll find it.  Upstairs are two attic rooms, one used to
store junk, the other is locked.  That's the punishment room.  I don't
allow him up there on his own. You'll need the key, here.

Thanks.  I know you are wanting to get back to Sussex so I'll not be long.

I've just got a bit more packing to do before the flight tomorrow, but no
hurry, take your time.

Master, that man is coming to live here?

For six months while I sort out the Cairo office, yes.

Take me with you Sir.  Please I beg you.  Let me be with you.

No. You belong here as part of the flat.

And that awful man can use me?

Of course.  Just as he can use the chairs or the lavatory.  You are part of
the deal.

Please don't give me to him Sir.  He's repulsive!

What's the matter with him?

He's fat and old and greasy and... and hairy!

Hairy?  How do you know?

That bushy "Saddam" moustache, the heavy blue jowl, even his hands are
hairy and the backs of his fingers!  I bet he's covered in body hair, even
on his shoulders and back.  Ugh!

Well I'm afraid house-slaves don't get to choose the men who use them.
Anyway, I have hair on my chest.

Just a neat patch of silky hair, Sir.  I love the hair on your chest.
That's manly.  But excessive body hair is ape-like and beastly.

Shut up your silly chattering boy and get me another beer.

Yes Sir.

And better bring another for Khaled too.

Yes Sir.

Ah, there you are.  Everything to your satisfaction?

Everthing is very fine.  I see the cane hung on the wall over the bed like
a permanent threat. That is good!

Like the sword of Damocles.

Please?

The sword of - it doesn't matter.  And the punishment room?

Ah my friend, what things are there!  Much time I will be spending
exploring those many things you have there!  I am thinking you will miss
them in Cairo - or perhaps you take some with you?

I would not care to explain why I had such things if my bags were searched
by Customs!

But I know a man in Cairo who can get anything like that you want.  Here, I
am writing his address for you because my poor flat is not as well equipped
as yours.

Thanks.  Ah, more beer. No, serve your new owner first you stupid
cumsucker.

Sorry Sir

That plaited quirt hanging behind the door, that is what is making these
marks on his shoulders?

Yes.

Hm, interesting. I am thinking that you like that less than the cane even,
eh boy?

Yes Sir.

And I think he'd like it even less from you than from me.

Oh?  You think I would be more severe?

No, it's just that he doesn't like you.  He finds you repulsive!

Sir, please!  WHAT? What boy?  You find me repulsive?

I'm sorry Sir, I didn't mean... UNKFF!

Get up boy, get up.  On your feet.  Come here.  I said come HERE!

I'm afraid you are going to hit me again Sir.

I am.  Stand there.  That's right.

CHORR!  Oh!  Help me Sir?

It's no use whining to me boy. You make your peace with your new
controller.

So why you find me repulsive, eh?  Is because I am Egyptian?  What you call
"dirty wog"?

No Sir!

You think I don't know you English call us dirty wogs?  I tell you boy, you
going to get wog fucked.  Dirty fucked.  Dirty wog fucked!

It's not that Khaled.  It's just he has a thing about body hair and he
thinks you may be hairy.

You find hairy repulsive boy?  Come here.

Don't hit me again Sir.  Please Sir.

I no going to hit you.  Unbutton my shirt.  Go on.  Unbutton right down.
That's it.  Now open it.

Jesus!

You find repulsive, eh?

I'm sorry Sir.  I didn't ... I didn't mean...

And after you get wog fucked, you going to lick fuck-sweat off hairy wog
body. You got that, boy?

Yes Sir

I was going to advise you to keep him on a tight rein but I see you don't
stand for any nonsense. I think he will soon know who's boss!

Oh, I rule him with rod of iron.  Come here boy, put your hand there.

Jesus!

That my rule of iron! I rule you every day with that, often twice a day,
sometimes three times.

Jesus!

I no like you calling on your Christian god like that.  You show me respect
or you are getting slapped again.  You have too easy life here, yes?  You
live in nice flat and Michael he come fuck you once a week.  Me I fuck you
every day.  Work you hard.  I no English gentleman, I dirty fuck-wog.  You
remember!

Yes Sir

Well I can see you two are going to be good friends(!) so I'll leave you to
get more closely acquainted.

Please don't leave me here Sir.  I beg you.

Do not grovel to me boy.  There's your master.

I beg you Sir, don't leave me.  I'll do anything you want, anything!

Khaled, perhaps you could get this thing of yours from round my legs?

Boy!  Come here!  Do I have to drag you by the hair?  You disgrace me in
front of my friend! By the Holy Book I'll punish you for this - go to the
bedroom and fetch me the cane. NOW!  Michael, you want to stay and watch
him getting his beating?

No, I must be going.

I'll drive you to the station.  The boy, he can wait for his beating.

No need, really.  I can get a taxi at the corner.

Are you sure?  It is no trouble.

Quite sure.  You get on with sorting out your boy!

Bon voyage mon ami.  Enjoy Cairo - and Abdul.

I am sure I shall enjoy both. Adieu.


	As he walked down the stairs he smiled to himself, hearing the
steady thwuck...thwuck...of the cane striking bare flesh from behind the
closed door. There was no doubt in his mind that after six months of being
bruised and broken by this brutal Egyptian he'd have to find a replcement
slave boy - one who was not bloated with wog spunk too!  Michael didn't
much fancy using another man's left offs.

	Perhaps, he mused, it would be interesting to advertise on the
Internet for something young and fresh and eager to serve. As he settled
into the taxi he allowed himself the indulgence of a sexual fantasy in
which half a dozen "Applicants for Servitude" were lined up for interview:
"Next!.. Name?..  Strip."  Hmm, nice...