Date: Sat, 15 Oct 2005 08:21:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad  And Me, Part 23

Dad And Me   by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  23

As these things go, the next few weeks were unusually
busy for me:  the annual stock holders' meeting was
looming and I needed to hold a meeting of the heads of
our global operations, then the next weekend there was
the huge charity ball in aid of the American Society
For the Prevention Of Cruelty To Slaves, which that
year the bank was sponsoring and so I was hosting the
top table, and gave the key after dinner speech, and
then Miles invited Tony and me up to his folks' place
at Newport for the ocean racing - their "cottage" was
even bigger than Manderleigh, and I hadn't previously
appreciated just how wealthy Miles was!  I tackled him
about this as we lay in bed on the Sunday morning -
Tony was snoring away, but Miles and I were in that
pleasantly drowsy state after a night of sport.

I asked him why he was working a the bank as there was
evidently so much money in the family and he smiled in
that sexy way he has and said "Oh, well, you know,
Steve, my father is a corporate lawyer, and his father
before him... It's a sort of a family tradition.  And
dad won't give me a penny - he says that after he paid
for my schooling, and Harvard, I need to make my own
way.  I'll get it one day, of course, but until then I
have to work for a living.  That's what he did...."

He stroked my dick and smiled again "You see, Steve,
we're  just the same - we both followed our fathers
into their work!"   I pinched his nip hard, and we
both fell about with laughter at the incongruity of it
all, which woke Tony....

Anyway, I digress, and it was a month before I next
flew down to Manderleigh, and it was only then on  a
Saturday morning as on the Friday evening I had to
remain in New York for a major meeting.  As the limo
swept along the drive into Manderleigh I noticed dad,
the Mexican and the slave I assumed to be Chas toiling
away - Stryker had evidently decided another acre or
so was about right for the addition to the pleasure
grounds, and all three were working away clearing it
of roots and stones - they were a splendid sight, even
though the sun was not shining and rain was spotting
down.  I remembered how I hated working in the rain
when I was a slave as your bare hide stings as the
drops hit it, and you get chilled very quickly even in
our climate.  Still, at Manderleigh work continued in
spite of the weather, and at least without clothes
there was nothing to chafe the skin as you toiled
away.

I wouldn't normally have bothered to fly down in the
morning like this but Stryker had told my diary
secretary that a small but select party of neighbours
had asked if they could come over for a studding that
afternoon, and I wanted to create a good impression in
the neighbourhood, as you know.  Even so, it was
perhaps a waste of time, and I sat at my desk in the
study with some impatience as Stryker went through
everything that had been happening whilst I was away.

Finally, when he'd finished, I said "And my plan for
Joe, and Chas?  I noticed the new addition to the
pleasure grounds....."

"All as you ordered, of course, sir."

"Well get Chas in here now - if this studding is as
important as you say this afternoon, I need to assure
myself that all is satisfactory."

It's one of the minor irritations of being a CEO of a
huge company, or the owner of somewhere like
Manderleigh, that "protocols" are followed by your
staff.  I'd have been perfectly happy to have had Chas
dragged to the study windows so that his work was not
too much affected, but just as in the same way that no
one at the bank can explain anything to me without an
elaborate multimedia presentation being put together
hastily, so the overseers at Manderleigh would not
present a slave to me without first having him cleaned
out, showered and lightly oiled.  It was some time
therefore before he appeared before me, but the
difference in the month was astonishing:  I suspected
that to have put on so much muscle they'd given him
steroids as well as working him very hard indeed, but
he did look very good with the deep tan he'd acquired.
 And there appeared to have been a change in his
attitude, too, as he stood there at "slave rest"
properly, with his head bowed and hands neatly clasped
behind his back.  Or, perhaps, it was the thought of
Stryker close by, his hand resting on the end of the
punishment cane that hung as ever from his belt.

I got up and went over to Chas, and as an owner does
naturally began to inspect him.  As for all slaves who
are kept entirely naked, his skin temperature appeared
to be a little on the high side as I allowed my finger
tips to stray across his belly, and there were
agreeable signs of ridges of hard muscle forming under
the taut skin.   I was glad I'd decided to allow him
to keep most of his body hair as the dark blond of the
treasure trail under my fingers made an agreeable
contrast to the tan of his skin, as it straggled
upwards to his nicely inverted navel, and then went on
higher to blossom into the neat thatch that seemed to
emphasise his pecs with their dark, pronounced
aureoles.  I let my fingers play over his nipples,
which erected and elicited a small shift in his
stance, and at once Stryker called out "Steady!", and
I sensed Chas' body tense slightly as if the sound of
Stryker's voice held some terror for him.

I moved around to his back, and lifted his arms up so
that I could have an uninterrupted view - he stood
there with his arms splayed out, not daring to move.
They'd done an excellent job on the tattooing as both
the huge "Chas" and his SIN  had good, sharp edges and
were very clearly defined.  There was no trace of fat
on him, and, if anything, the characters seemed to
emphasise the classic male inverted "V" of his wide
shoulders tapering down to his butt.   When I clasped
the mound of his ass cheeks to feel the power in his
musculature all was not well, though:  there was a
disagreeable sensation there, rather than the solid,
warm muscle one expects.

Stryker saw my look of displeasure, and said casually
"Don't worry, sir:  you're  just feeling the internal
scarring and bruising from where he had to be caned
rather a lot in his first couple of weeks - he's
making excellent progress, as I'm sure you'll agree,
and over time those hard lines will disappear,
especially if we focus more of the training on him
putting on even more power there in the butt and
thighs."

"Quite so, Stryker.  All that caning - did he object
to taking dick?"

"Oh no, sir.  I didn't order that, as I thought that
you might prefer to take his cherry, sir!  I ordered
Joe and the Mexican to leave his ass alone - they had
to content themselves with fucking his throat, and of
course Amos and Andy were well aware that the only
thing that was to go up there was the enema tube...."

Stryker had placed me in a bit of an invidious
position now - he'd been right, I suppose, to reserve
Chas for me to be able to do that symbolic first
fucking, but we now had guests coming to see him stud,
guests who might themselves choose to fuck Chas when
he'd performed.  We all know that when an owner first
takes a virgin slave there can be a lot of noise and
that some slaves even break training and attempt to
resist, and it would hardly be good news for the name
of Manderleigh if Chas were not to perform "properly"
this afternoon.  In the circumstances therefore I felt
obliged to fuck him now, and I suppose it's partially
a reaction to my time as a slave that I hate being put
into a position where I "have" to do something.
Nevertheless, I felt that the duties of a good host to
this afternoon's guests demanded it, and so I told
Stryker to tell the slaves to bring a fucking horse
in.

You may be surprised to know that there wasn't a
fucking horse - or a punishment horse, as some call it
- in the study, but Mr Hawthorne's house slaves were
impeccably well trained and properly broken and he
never needed to carry out punishments in the house:
it was usually niggas on the plantation who were in
trouble, and these were of course dealt with over in
the barns. And as I've told you, he preferred to lie
there sprawled on a couch as the slave he'd chosen to
give him pleasure "rode" him.  I'd never got around to
altering the basic layout of the room, so now I had to
wait a Stryker went to the door and issued orders for
a horse to be fetched.

In the meantime I returned to Chas, and was almost
gratified to see his body trembling faintly - whether
this was at the thought of what was about to happen to
him, or the strain of holding his arms out, is hard to
judge, but in any event the tension provided that
little extra "something" to his appearance.  His dick
was semi-erect as it jutted out, the steel cinch ring
glinting faintly in the morning light from the large
windows, and I reached down and examined it.  They'd
done an excellent job on 'skinning him, as there was
no trace of excess skin on the shaft as it hung there,
and when I stroked him to a full erection, it wasn't
impeded at all by them having taken too much:  I
suppose it's all the practice he gets, as all the
plantation niggas are 'skinned, that makes it
relatively easy for our veterinarian to judge it
exactly.  I was pleased too to observe that, rather
like mine, his dick head was roughly the same diameter
as the shaft, with the thick flange at its base just
flaring out sufficiently:  I do hate it, don't you,
when a dick head is too small for the shaft, or where
it overhangs to such an extent that it overbalances
the look of the thing?

He was still sensitive about a man grasping his balls
and I could sense his desire to pull away from me as I
felt them through the smooth warmth of his sac, and I
was pleased to see that he must be ready for studding
as there was a jewel-like drop of pre-cum oozing from
his piss slit after even these few seconds of
stimulation.  All in all, I thought Stryker had done
an excellent job in these weeks, and told him so.

The only thing that seemed to have been omitted was
the branding - his ass cheek, other than the caning
ridges, was still clear.  I asked Stryker about this,
and there was a simple explanation: "I wasn't sure
what you wanted the slave for, sir", he told me
crisply and without hesitation. "If your plans are to
sell him, then of course branding him would
substantially reduce the value - most owners don't
object to the slave's name tattooed onto his back, but
a brand is impossible to remove.  So I decided to wait
until you arrived - it didn't seem worthwhile
bothering you in New York, sir, as I know you must
have more pressing matters to deal with all the
time....  And, sir, I was also unsure about whether
you'd want to do it yourself - some owners feel that a
slave always has more respect for the man who pushes
the branding iron in to sear his ownership mark into
the slave's hide..."

I must say I hadn't thought of that, but remembering
the absolute agony when my own butt was incised, I
could see that it might be true.  And the thought of
seeing the smoke rising from Chas's flesh was somehow
arousing - my dick was almost painful as it strained
to break out of my pants!

"Excellent, Stryker, you think of everything.
Schedule it for after dinner this evening - I'll do it
personally, as you suggest, as a walk over to the
nigga sheds for a little sport will be  and agreeable
diversion."

Chas gave an audible moan as I spoke, and at once
Stryker brought the cane down hard, very hard, onto
the front of Chas's thighs, causing him to scream and
break his stance.  "Back!", Stryker roared, "Or you'll
get more.  How dare you make a noise, or move, when
your owner is speaking!".    His tone changed
instantly and he went on "Sorry about that, sir, but
in these early stages the slave needs punishing
immediately for even the slightest infraction - a
quick stroke at the time drums the error of his ways
into his skull much more readily than a prolonged
caning later."

I remembered how exquisitely painful a cane stroke
across the front of the thighs was, as I'd had many of
them myself, and knew that Chas would be "remembering"
that lesson pretty well.  But Stryker went on "I had
to do it, sir, in spite of this afternoon - still, at
least the marks will be invisible most of the time as
he'll be bent over the bitch..."

At that moment the waiters dragged in the horse, an
antique model in dark mahogany with a red leather
padded bar for the slave's body.  It looked faintly
out of place compared with the modern desk and rather
minimalist couches that I'd chosen when I replaced Mr
Hawthorne's choices.

"On his belly or on his back, sir?", Stryker enquired.

"Oh, on his belly for the first time - it makes it so
much easier to tie him down."

He led Chas over to the horse, and I could tell from
the body language that Chas was dreading it and had it
not been for the ever present threat of the cane and
the firm hold that Stryker had on his neck, he might
have objected.  Stryker positioned Chas at the end of
the horse and pushed him down so that he was lying on
it.  Two swift movements secured his ankles in the leg
restraints on the horse's rear legs, and Stryker then
went to the front, and in turn pulled each of Chas'
arms down to enable him to tighten the wrist
restraints at the base of the front legs.

"Are you going to take him 'buckaroo', sir?  Or shall
I tighten the belly strap to hold him absolutely tight
down onto the bar?"

I smiled.  "Oh I think this one is definitely a mover,
Stryker!  Especially for the first time.  I like a
lively response from a slave, so I'll do it
'buckaroo'."

"Shall I withdraw, sir, to give you some privacy?"

"Heavens, no!  A man doesn't need privacy to fuck a
slave!  And it's not as if you haven't seen me in
action many, many times before...."

We both laughed at this little reference to our
previous history, and as I undid my belt and took my
pants off, Stryker busied himself with the adjusting
wheels to position Chas' ass at the most comfortable
height for me.

It is of course one of the problems of having a slave
cinched that when he's strapped to a horse and his
legs are spread ready for fucking, you don't get to
see that agreeable sight of his balls swinging loosely
between his thighs.  But I suppose it's a small price
to pay, and I have to tell you that the prospect of
fucking Chas was anyway so exciting that I think that
I might have shot there and then if the spectacle had
been any more erotic than it was!

There's something special about that moment when an
owner first lets his dick brush against the butt of a
slave, and this is of course vastly enhanced when you
know that the slave is a virgin and that you will be
showing him your complete control of his body by being
the first to use his ass for pleasure.  And in this
case, for me, it was doubly exciting:  you know I like
to give dick, but this was, I think, the first time
I'd been in this position of totally dominating and
controlling another man like this.  I was, in a sense,
'losing my virginity' when it came to exerting my
ownership of a slave in this way.

I spread Chas' butt apart, noticing the contrast
between the dark tan of his skin and the pale flesh
deep in his crack where the sunlight never penetrated.
 The slaves had done their preparation well and as I
allowed a finger to trail along down there I could
sense not even the faintest trace of stubble from his
shaving, and when I touched the wrinkled skin of his
pucker, his whole body shook,  and he moaned "No....".
   I remembered that dad had told me it was
"traditional" not to punish a slave for making a noise
when he was already strapped on a horse so I let this
break in Chas' training pass, and was faintly amused
to see him vainly trying to shuffle his legs to try to
close his butt as I pushed my finger into his
sphincter, which resisted strongly.

"He's very tight, Stryker!", I commented. "And dry -
the slave oil has been absorbed down here."

"Or those slaves in the baths didn't loosen him and
lube him properly!  I'll have them punished."

Stryker came over and his own finger probed where mine
was, making Chas struggle and moan even more.  "You
can't fuck him like this, sir, it will be painful....
 For you, sir, that is.....  He's too dry.   I'm
sorry, sir....  This was unexpected, and they  just
got it wrong...."

I felt sorry for Stryker, as he seemed to take this
failure personally, and the next moment he dropped to
his knees and reached underneath Chas, between his
thighs, and began to wank him, vigorously.  Chas began
to wriggle and squirm, only calming down and standing
more or less still when Stryker gave him two giant
slaps with his big hands on his butt, and then Chas
gave a great shout of "Oh.......", and Stryker
scrambled to his feet.

He'd neatly "milked" Chas, and he now stood there, one
hand full of cum, and he quickly, thoroughly, and
quite roughly, I thought,  used it lubricate Chas
properly, plunging his stubby finger over and over
into Chas' hole, and making him moan and cry out
almost incessantly.  Finally Stryker cleaned his hands
in Chas' hair, and said "That should be OK now, sir.
It's the best and most natural lubricant, after
all....."

It was a good fuck - at least for me.  Not only was
Chas' hole nicely tight, but he thrashed around a lot,
even though he knew he was totally unable to escape,
and that added to the excitement.  As did his constant
shouting and cursing - not  just the screams of pain
as I lost my temper with him and began to pound him
long and hard, but the cries of despair, the begging
and pleading for me to stop, and the epithets that he
rained down on me all added to the excitement and
atmosphere.  I began to see why rapists really enjoy
what they do.

Afterwards I wiped my dick clean on his hair to
emphasise to him that I could use him any way I
wanted, then I decided to keep him there on the horse
as I made a few phone calls - it reinforced to him, I
knew, how his life had changed:  there was I, making
money, commanding the world wide empire that was the
bank, and there he was:  a lowly slave, who had been
used by his owner and was now helpless as he felt the
cum trickle out from his hole and slide down the
inside of his thighs.

I had decided to make the studding that afternoon
something of an "occasion" as several of the
neighbours were coming, so they were greeted by
glasses of chilled champagne on arrival.  I made a
little speech saying how I intended to continue the
tradition started by Mr Hawthorne of providing good
quality whiteys for stud, and everyone applauded
politely.    They did so again when I had Stryker
bring in dad and Chas, and I explained the new
procedure to them:  all the bitches would be studded
by both men in future, as we wanted to make sure that
their chances of being "covered" the first time were
increased (or so I said!).

Dad and Chas were standing next to each other, their
hands cuffed to neck collars as usual, and the tiny
"blinders" cutting  out their vision, and as I had
commanded Chas has additionally been gagged with a
tongue depressor that kept his airways open but which
made his attempts at speech come out simply as
inarticulate gurgles.  Dad just stood there relaxed,
exuding confidence, but Chas seemed really twitchy and
ill at ease.  I thought back to my own experiences in
the studding barn and remembered how it felt to be
there naked, blind and helpless, hearing the talk and
laughter from the others, and knowing that soon I was
going to be performing one of the most intimate things
that a man can do, in public.  Dad liked it, I knew,
but I almost felt some sympathy for Chas as he stood
there.

The first bitch was brought in and secured, and
Stryker led dad over to her and gave him the ritual
slap on his butt to signal to him to start, and I
enjoyed once again watching dad's superb muscled butt
driving his dick in and out of her as she moaned in
ecstasy.  When he'd finished, it was Chas' turn, and I
motioned to Stryker to stand aside to let me conduct
it.

I stood there and stroked him to a full erection, just
as he had once done to me, then whispered "easy, boy"
as I grasped his dick and led him over to the bitch.
He must have been able to smell her scent, and dad's
leaking cum, as he began to protest and struggle - so
utterly futile:   no one could understand what he was
saying;  and helpless as he was and being led by the
dick, there was no way he could avoid doing what we
intended.  I positioned him at her cunt, but he tried
to shy away as soon as I let go of his dick, and it
made me very angry as he was spoiling he performance
for my guests.  I stopped and made a little speech
apologising to them, explaining that this was his
first time as a stud and he was perhaps a little
nervous, then took firm hold of his dick and pulled
him forward once more.    I was ready for him this
time, though, and the moment he tried to pull back I
slashed at his butt with Stryker's punishment cane,
this time not even considering pulling the blow or
holding back in any way whatsoever.  He shot forward
into the bitch, at the same time screaming out as best
he could through the gag, and the watchers were
rewarded not only by seeing him begin to fuck, but by
the bright red line that formed across his butt where
the cane had struck.

It almost made me jealous after that when we rested
dad and him to see them sitting there together against
the wall, so companionably close,  just as we had
done, but I had to attend to my guests and circulated,
making polite conversation about the state of the
crops and so on, as plantation owners do (especially
those who had been briefed by Stryker as I didn't
really know anything at all about agriculture!).  The
house slaves, in fetchingly brief tunics that gave
tantalising glimpses of their bodies as they moved
amongst the guests, served more champagne, and tea in
my finest bone china cups for the ladies, accompanied
by petits fours and tiny cocktail delicacies.

Dad was of course superb as he fucked the second
bitch, and I don't know whether he had said something
to Chas as they'd sat there, but he seemed so much
better behaved this time, and made a creditable
performance (or perhaps it was the thought of the cane
again - it can't have been comfortable for him to have
to sit against that wall with the cane mark across his
butt!).  As he finished and Stryker had pushed him
down so that he was lying on the bitch as we always
did to "give the swimmers a chance", one of my guests
approached me.

"Mr Masters, sir", he began, and I saw a very handsome
looking sixteen or seventeen year old looking at me,
giving me a bright smile.  "Thank you for this
afternoon, sir.  It's the first studding I've
attended, other than those at home, of course, when
dad puts the black studs to the bitches.  It was very
good - I enjoyed seeing both those whiteys in action,
sir."

I nodded, and he went on "I understand that sometimes
the gentlemen can use a stud, sir, after he's
performed.... Would it be possible.... Could I....?"

"You want to fuck one of the studs, do you?"

"Yes, please, sir.  I've had niggas at home of course,
but I've never been with a whitey.... And they do say
that it's really special to take a slave when he's
just studded....    I've asked my parents, and they
don't mind - they say it's all part of growing up...."

"Well I surely don't mind.  But won't you be
embarrassed at having to strip in front of all these
people, and your mom and dad...?"

"Oh no, sir.  Mom will take the ladies off for a turn
around your magnificent gardens, sir. And I've got
nothing to be ashamed about in front of the men - I'm
on the football team at school, and I knew I've got
nothing to be embarrassed about as I've got a good
body..."

"So do you want to fuck the older one, or the one
whose  just performed?"

"I really like the idea of fucking the old guy - Joe,
sir - as he's got such a magnificent body.  But they
do say it's really special when the stud's still
inside the bitch...  Perhaps I could come back another
day and fuck Joe, but today I'd like to take Chas."

I nodded my assent, smiling at the thought of how Chas
would hate this, and watched as the ladies unhurriedly
left.  The boy didn't take his shirt off, but dropped
his pants and briefs as he stood behind Chas, and I
remembered how I used to hate it when I heard that
characteristic "clunk" of a belt buckle hitting the
ground when I was being made to stud, as it signalled
to me that I was about to be used.  The boy had a good
long dick, perhaps somewhat on the thin side, and with
the impatience of youth he wasted no time in ramming
it hard up Chas, who was of course completely unable
to stop him.    I didn't enjoy the spectacle of the
boy's colt-like butt as he thrust away as much as I
had seeing the mature muscles of dad and Chas, but he
did have a certain youthful vigour that added a little
freshness to the scene;  but again, with the freshness
of youth, he finished very quickly - although he stood
there, inside Chad, for what seemed like a long time
as I imagined his "aftershocks" continued to pump out.

When the guests had gone I returned to the studding
barn with Stryker, and he undid the "blinders" from
both men, although he left their hands cuffed to their
collars.  "This one needs a good thrashing, sir", he
told me, grabbing Chas by the dick and pulling him
over to one of the studding benches.  "That was a
disgraceful performance, and his backside needs
striping...."

As he was speaking, he pushed Chas face down on the
bench, and pulled two of the fastening straps over his
upper and lower back to secure him.  He reached for
his cane, but I stopped him.  "No, Stryker.... But now
we have him here, there is one more thing we need to
do to make him a proper slave at Manderleigh....
Rather than waste my time this evening, we can do it
now... Fetch the electric branding iron."

Chas began to scream and shout through his gag, and
dad looked a bit shocked, but Stryker went over to a
cupboard and got out the apparatus.  Look, I know it's
traditional to use a charcoal brazier and a metal iron
that you heat up as the slave watches, and when we
brand a new batch of niggas we always do it this way:
there's a certain value in tradition, and, in any
case, the anticipation as the slave watches the iron
change from black to red to white in the charcoal,
before it is brought over to his flesh, probably makes
a lasting impression on him.  But it is a lot of
trouble, and like a barbecue, you have to start it a
long time before you need it!

The electric iron is so much less fuss, and it was up
to heat only a couple of minutes after Stryker plugged
the cord into the outlet.  As you probably know, it's
really important when branding salves that they remain
absolutely immobile when the iron is pushed through
the outer layers of their skin, otherwise the brand is
never properly crisp and the edges, which anyway tend
to soften and blur as the skin heals, are even worse.
We brand the niggas in as special jig which clamps
down over their waists and thighs to keep them
perfectly still, and I was concerned that the two
straps holding Chas to the studding frame were  just
not up to it, so I climbed up and sat astride him,
facing away from his head, so that his butt was
sticking out between my thighs.  I could clamp my
thighs firmly together - I was still very strong from
all those years of labour - to hold him steady, and in
any case his ability to buck and rear was severely
limited by the sheer weight of me pressing down on his
lower back.

Mind you, it's not a good position to brand a slave
from - it's hard to get the brand properly positioned
high on his butt and slightly to the side.  And when
the metal touches the skin and the smoke pours up,
you're right on top of it and it's really rather
unpleasant!

Anyone would think I was an unnecessarily harsh and
cruel owner to have branded Chas like this, but I
judged it better to get him to fully accept that he
was now always going to be a slave at Manderleigh as
soon as possible, as it would be kinder to him in the
end.   In any case, we never use anaesthetics on
slaves when we brand them - part of the process is to
get them to feel the searing pain of the brand as a
means of emphasising to them that their owner has
total power and control over their bodies now.

When the worst of his cries had subsided I told
Stryker to untie him and to release both men from
their neck cuffs.  "Look after him, Joe", I said.
"Neither of you has to work again today, but he's got
to be ready for a full day tomorrow -  so make sure he
drinks a lot of water, and doesn't mess with the scar
that will form."

"Yes, master", dad said, perfectly properly.

"Oh, and Joe.... I've taken his cherry, and as you
probably heard, he was fucked by one of the guests
this afternoon.  So there's no reason for you to hold
off now -  just be a bit gentle with him for the next
few days, as he'll be really sore!"

End Of Part Twenty Three.