Date: Sun, 23 Oct 2005 00:12:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad And Me, Part 30

Dad And Me by Pete Brown    petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part  30

Well, although I did trust Jeff - he was stupidly
honest, even when he didn't need to be - I made sure
that microphones picked up his conversation with dad.
Chas was sent out to work in the far corner of the
pleasure grounds and dad was assigned to digging in
the vegetable plot for the rest of the afternoon after
the studding, and so it was "inevitable" that Jeff,
setting out tot talk to the studs, came across dad.

I was not worried at all, as I knew dad was still
feeling guilt about having been enslaved, and of
course I knew that studding appealed to his sense of
"being a man".  I've got the whole conversation still,
somewhere, but as I recall it now, Jeff first of all
asked dad if he deserved to be a slave - and was of
course surprised to hear dad say "Yes.  I see now that
what I did was stupid.  I did it for the right
reasons, but that's no excuse, is it?  You can do the
right thing for the wrong reasons, but you must never
do the wrong thing - even for the right reasons.  I
was wrong to defraud the taxpayers, and the IRS had
ever right to bring the case against me."

Then when he went on to ask dad about studding, he
seemed almost  shocked.  "Look, sir", dad said. "I'm a
man.  And men need sex, sir.  I was married, had a
kid... So I know there's nothing wrong with sex with
women.   But when  I was enslaved and they introduced
me to proper sex, sir, well, I mean, once you've had
real sex, that's what you do for fun, isn't it?  But
you still need to do the breeding kind, I guess, so if
that's what I'm ordered to do, I do it.  It's not as
good, of course, and I'm lucky that here at
Manderleigh that me and Chas and Juan all work
together and are caged together at night so there's
lots of proper sex.  But there's nothing wrong with
studding, sir  - I don't mind fucking women, really.
If you've never done it sir, you can give it a try -
it's not as good as proper sex, as I say, but a lot of
men never find that out and always put up with second
best."

I thought that would have clinched it, but Jeff seemed
to be clutching at straws now.  "But they keep you
naked, with that ring around your dick.... You're half
erect, even now...."

"Sir, have you ever worked naked?  Or even exercised
naked?  You look as if you exercise, sir.  Well you'll
know that it can really make your balls ache, and
having the cinch rings like this really helps as it
kind of holds me.  And I've got nothing to be ashamed
of anyway, have I, sir?  And it's not cold down here -
well, not most of the time.  In fact it's too fucking
hot, and humid, most of the year.  So working naked is
fine, in fact, compared to sweat-soaked chafing
clothes, it's an advantage, actually."  I smiled to
myself as I heard this, as Jeff had been complaining
about aching balls himself that very morning and would
know that dad was right.

"But that ring..."

"The snout ring, sir?  Well, it did take a bit of
getting used to.  But Chas and I quite like it now -
well, I mean, when there are new slaves here, they can
tell straight away that Chas and I are special, can't
they?  Juan isn't allowed one, as he isn't allowed to
stud.  It marks us out as special."

Jeff just shrugged as if in exasperation and walked
away at that point.

That night I made sure Jeff had a stiff drink before
dinner, and a few beers with it.  Afterwards, as we
sat in the study, I said "Well, do I owe you another
month's salary?"

"No..."

"Ah!  So the slave did believe he deserved it.  And he
does like studding...?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so.  That's what he said."

"And do you think I coerced him?  Do you think Stryker
told him he'd be flayed alive if he didn't give you
the 'right' answers?"

"No, sir... I don't think you'd do that.  Well, not
for something relatively unimportant   I guess he was
telling the truth..."


How wrong he was!  If I hadn't been certain that dad
would tell the story I wanted, he would have certainly
been threatened.  When you're in a contest, EVERY
victory is important.  But I just said simply "So you
owe me a forfeit!"

"I guess so."

"Well now, you're sure you don't want to pay me a
month's salary?  I'll make it easy for you and make
that a month after taxes and your living expenses..."

"There's no need to do that.  I can pay my debts..."

"You're looking at a couple of months without any
money, then...."

"Yes, but I'm going for the forfeit...."

I looked at him, and he looked kind of defiant, as if
he knew that he wasn't going to like what was coming
next. "So if it's not money-related, it has to be
something to do with you, then doesn't it, Jeff?"

"I guess so."

"You know you've got a nice body, don't you?  You're
handsome, fit.... A bit of a treat for the eye, some
might say."

"Well, yes...."   He was cautious now.

"But you don't show it all that much, Jeff.  Look at
how hard it was to get you to swim naked this morning,
and then consider how much you enjoyed it.  I think
you need to learn that a body like that deserves to be
seen.  So for the next month whenever you're in the
apartment or here at Manderleigh, and we don't have
guests, I want you to go around naked.... No,
actually, I think I'd like to see you wearing one of
the waiter's summer uniforms..."

"Sir, please...  I can't do that..."

"Why not?  We're all men around here.  It's not as if
you were exposing yourself to women or anything."

"Sir, please, no...."

"Oh, suit yourself.  If you want everyone to know that
you won't pay up on a bet, that's OK by me."

"Sir...."

"Pay up, Jeff.... "

He got to his feet, and I knew I had him!  Twice
before he'd been "forced" to strip in front of me -
once when I'd saved him in the police cells in New
York, and that night when he'd lost so disastrously at
poker with Tony and Miles.  I'd seen him naked a lot
since then as we changed after exercising or swimming,
so it ought not to have been a big deal for him.  But
clearly it was - and this made it more of a pleasure
for me, as I was furthering my plans to have him
totally under my control and obeying my every order.

I watched impassively as he pulled off his sneakers
and socks, and then undid those wonderfully tight
jeans and eased them down over his thighs and off over
his feet.  He went to pull his T off, but  I said
quietly "No, the briefs first....", and he shrugged
and pushed down the snug grey cotton to follow his
jeans into a crumpled heap onto the floor.  I
desperately wanted to grab my own dick and free it
from its imprisonment in my pants, but knew that
anything like this would spoil the moment, so I
settled myself a little on the couch and said quietly
"And finally the T,  Jeff."

There's something hugely erotic about a guy who's
naked except for a T pulling it over his head, I
think.  For one thing, when he's still got it on, it
kind of draws attention to his nudity, especially
when, like Jeff, the hem of it just hovers on the top
of neatly trimmed and shortened pubes and you can
clearly see the dick hanging there over shaved balls.
But then, especially if the guy does as Jeff did and
crosses his hands in front of him, grabs the hem and
pulls his arms upwards, you get a really special
sight:  the belly tightens as the arms are raised,
it's revealed, tantalisingly, and the dick is pulled
slightly upwards by all the muscle movement.  Almost
as good is the fact that as the nips come into view -
also sharply in focus because the arms are moving and
stretching the pecs - the guy's head is covered and so
for a couple of glorious seconds you can see all of
his body as it's there in front of you, and he can't
see you admiring it.

It's over all to soon of course, but then you have the
man in front of you, looking slightly awkward as naked
men somehow seem to in  the presence of the clothed.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"  My tone was light,
almost jovial.  "Now let's get you something to wear."


I snapped my fingers and one of the young waiters who
is always lurking at the edge of the room in the
shadows at once came forward and bowed.  I ordered him
to kneel so that it was more convenient for me to undo
the thin gold  chain around his waist, and then
dismissed him.

Jeff was  just standing there, looking almost shocked.
 I thought about ordering him to put the loincloth on
himself, but realised in time that it gave me a real
opportunity for feeling his body.  So I got up off the
couch and approached him.  "Now, the trick of this is
to get it low enough so that we don't have to use a
huge piece of silk", I told him confidently, "But not
so low that it slips over the hips.  It can be a
problem with the younger slaves with underdeveloped
bodies, but for a man like you with a proper physique
it's easy - here...."

I stood in front of him and put the chain around him,
way below his belly button, then reached around to
fasten it at the back, allowing my hands to feel his
butt muscles as I did so.  I went behind him and
fiddled with the fastening, all the time saying things
like "We need it really low down, as I said, but it's
easy for you as there's no danger of it sliding down
over that butt of yours." and "It's just below the top
of your ass crack... Shuffle around a bit, will you,
as when your butt moves I want to make sure it's not
cutting into you..."

I think I could actually see a blush of embarrassment
rising on his body as I did this, making his shoulders
just a touch pinker than before I started!  I went
around to the front of him again, and put my finger
in-between the chain and his body, and moved it from
side to side.  "Not too tight, is it?", I asked,
knowing that he would have felt the my finger against
his warm skin and in his trimmed pubes.

"No, it's OK.  But sir, do I have to do this...?"

"No, Jeff, you don't have to do it.  You're not a
slave, remember - I saved you from that. You're a free
man, and you don't have to do anything you don't want
to.  But I don't think Stryker, or Tony, or Miles, or
me, for that matter, would think very much of you if
we knew you were the kind of guy who didn't make good
on a bet....  You're not like that, are you, Steve?"

"No, sir."  I had him again.  It was so easy to
manipulate Jeff.


"Yes, I know that.  Now, stand still whilst I fit the
flap...."

The slaves' loincloths at Manderleigh are just
rectangles of thin white silk that hang over the gold
chain.  I think a big guy like Jeff would normally get
one at least two inches wider and two or three inches
longer than the one I now threaded under the chain,
but I'd taken this one off the young slave to remind
Jeff that this was "slave wear", and having it too
small just added to its eroticism as far as I was
concerned.  You know how these flaps are- they're wide
enough to cover the dick and balls, and when hanging
with the two ends at the same length, they should just
clear the tip of the dick.  On Jeff you could just see
his big ball sac on either side of the silk, and the
last quarter inch of his dick was visible even when he
was standing stock still - the whole thing is designed
to show glimpses of the slave as he moves around, of
course, and clever slaves get to know how to minimise
their movements to provide them with maximum
concealment - but there was no chance of even this for
Jeff.

I went and sat down on the couch, and said "There!
All done...."

"Sir, please, don't make me go around like this..."

" I'm not making you do anything! Would you rather go
around totally naked, then?"

"No, sir, but...."

"Jeff, what's the problem?  You're not ashamed of your
body, are you?"

"No, sir..."

"Well then...?"

"Sir, it's just so.... Well, sir, it's so fucking
humiliating!"

"Don't be so stupid!  There's only you, me and the
slaves here, and most of them are wearing the same
thing.  You'll soon get used to it - by the time Tony
and Miles come around for poker next week, you won't
even think about it..."

"Sir, you said when we were alone...."

"Well, I make an exception for Tony and Miles, as
they're such old friends,  and you know them too -
they're regular guys, and they've anyway seen you
naked, at our last poker game.  Mind you, we'd better
not get on to strip poker again... You wouldn't  have
much to gamble with!"

"Sir, please....  I feel like a slave!"

My dick stirred again as he said this, and I knew I
was sliming my boxers with pre-cum.  But I continued
to play it cool.   "Jeff, let's have an end of it,
shall we?  You're not a salve, you're a free man, a
man with options. It's your choice - pay the forfeit,
or not, as you please.  Now, be so good as to go over
and pour me a drink - I think there's a bottle of
Pouligny-Montrachet in the ice bucket - and have a
glass yourself, or one of those beers you're so fond
of.  That proves you're not a slave - slaves aren't
allowed to drink alcohol."

If my dick was causing me problems before, it was
disaster as Jeff walked across the room:  not only was
it a total turn-on to see him naked in the room like
this, but the thin gold chain stretched around him, so
low down, sank in to his skin slightly and emphasises
the different motions of each half of his butt as he
moved.  I just had to shift in my seat and clutch at
my crotch to try to make more room for my dick as it
reared upwards.  And as he fiddled around at the
drinks trolley, and used the old fashioned corkscrew
to open the wine, the play of his muscles was a
delight to behold.  He came back towards me, and it
was  just as I'd hoped -  his dick swung from side to
side as his big feet padded across the rug and the
polished wood of the floor, exposing itself to me in a
way that was so much more exciting than if he'd done
the same thing totally bare-assed.

He held the glass out to me, and I said calmly
"Although you're not a slave, Jeff, you might at least
play at being one when you're in 'uniform':  haven't
you seen how the slaves offer drinks?  Kneel down!"

I felt sure he was going to argue, but maybe I was
getting to him.  He sank to his knees, holding the
glass out in front of him, and I was massively tempted
to move the toe of my shoe upwards and stroke his dick
and balls as he knelt there.  I restrained myself,
though - this could come later, and, anyway, I'd enjoy
it more without shoes on.  So I just thanked him and
told him he could come and sit on the couch and watch
TV.  "See", I said, "There's another thing - have you
ever seen a slave sit on the furniture?"

It was amusing to see him settle that lovely muscled
body down onto the couch then vainly try to arrange
the tiny scrap of silk to cover his tackle.  I
deliberately selected an adventure movie with really
good actors and an excellent plot but which was known
for the steamy scenes between two of the principal
characters, and before long, the inevitable happened.
I glanced down and there was Jeff's dick, erect,
having thrust aside the totally inadequate scrap of
silk.  He saw me looking and his reaction was
priceless - his hands shot down to try to cover
himself.

"Hey, I know it's pretty raunchy, Jeff", I said,
laughing, "But you're not going to jerk off, are you?
I don't want cum all over the upholstery. And I
thought you were shy of exposing your body to me!"

_________________________


I didn't sleep all that well that night - I was awake
at about three with erotic thoughts streaming through
my head and had to jerk off before there was any
chance of sleeping again.  I toyed with the idea of
just calling the slave in and getting him to do it, or
even of having a quick fuck, but my mind was full of
Jeff and I kind of lingered over the whole thing,
deliberately slacking off the pace if I felt I was
about to cum.  However well  trained a slave is, he
never quite gets that right, does he?

When I woke, I was looking forward to seeing Jeff when
we worked out before breakfast, but my mood of eager
anticipation was very much dampened by the need to
deal with dad, too:  I just couldn't postpone that any
longer and  resolved to fix it today.

I'll say this for Jeff, having decided to pay my
forfeit, he stuck to it and when I went into the
breakfast room on that Sunday morning he was there in
his loincloth, looking strangely out of place with his
big muscled body contrasting with the slim boyish ones
of the slaves.

"Let's work out before we eat, shall we?", I asked.
"It's a good morning for a run, then a swim.... And I
won't stick to our forfeit for the run..."

"Thank you, sir...."

"No",  I continued, cutting in, "I'll let you wear
running shoes as well as your loincloth, as you're not
used to running barefoot and it can damage your arches
unless you get used to it gradually."

"If you're worried about my arches, sir.... Well,
remember how we talked about working and running
naked...."

"You're right, Jeff.  How thoughtless of me.  I don't
want you having sore balls and complaining all the way
back to New York."   I snapped an order to one of the
slaves and a few moments later he came back with one
of those leather cock straps - the sort that's a few
inches long and about half an inch wide with some
press fasteners on it.

"What's this...?"  he asked.

"Wrap it around your balls and dick, right at the
root, and use the tightest press fastener you can -
it's easier than getting a conventional cock ring on.
It will make your balls and dick stick out a bit - not
as good as a proper cinch band that real slaves wear,
but it will give you some support.

"I don't think so..."

"Suit yourself, Jeff - you're a free man.  But don't
complain to me tonight about aching balls...."

It was as if he was embarrassed to be doing it, as he
turned his back to me to put the cock ring on, but
after a couple of minutes fiddling around, in which
I'd been rewarded the consolation prize of seeing his
shoulder and back muscles slide over each other as he
struggled with the thing, we were ready for the off.
At first I really enjoyed it - there's something
that's a real turn on about a guy running in the nude
except for a cock ring and running shoes.  But I
didn't get long to revel in it before I was really
struggling:  as if to revenge himself, Jeff had set a
killer fast pace and, as I've told you, the grounds at
Manderleigh are gently undulating and running uphill
tires you much more.  He seemed indefatigable, and ran
back and forth, shouting and swearing at me to keep
up, and before long I was covered in sweat and my
lungs and heart were really straining.

When we got back I almost collapsed with exhaustion,
and Jeff just stood there with a smug grin on his
face.  "Swim now then, sir?", he asked.  "I'm really
ready for more..."

I know he was testing me, and a lot of men won't admit
defeat in circumstances like that.  But I'm not afraid
to admit that some things are beyond me and just said
quietly "Later!  I need to recover.  That was some
work out...."

"Not if you're really fit, sir."

"Jeff, you don't really know what fitness is!  Sure,
you can run, and do press-ups and chin lifts and are
good in the gym, but real fitness is being able to
work and work hard, hour after hour after hour.  Now
some of the slaves here are fit..."

"Sure, there's a difference between instantaneous
power and sustained work - when I was in the forces,
on long route marches up and down hills with a heavy
backpack, I could do it.  And  I still can."

"Are you after another bet?"

"No, sir!   But I do understand my own body."

"So do you want to have a really tough work session
this morning - I've got some papers I must go through.
Or is it all just talk, Jeff?"

"Hey, there isn't anything here that I couldn't do.  I
saw all those niggas in your coffles, and it doesn't
look that hard, digging and hoeing and picking the
stones out and stuff..."

"Oh, I think we can find something.... Come with me!"

It was grass mowing day, and I'd seen dad and Chas and
Juan toiling with the big double-gang mower, so I led
Jeff over to the top of the slope and waited until the
 sweating slaves came up the hill again.  Dad and Chas
were pulling it with Juan "driving" the mower, and I
stopped them and said to Jeff "This is real hard work.
 Think you can do this until lunchtime?"

"Sure!"

"These slaves have to work really hard you know, Jeff
- they can't just rely on themselves to do the best
job possible - especially as the morning wears on and
they tire, we need to 'encourage' the extra ten per
cent out of them."

"What extra ten percent?"

I had to explain to Jeff about the body's hidden
reserves, and how it was only in response to external
stimulus, in this instance the tawse, that the brain
could be made to tell the body to give its all.  He
sounded doubtful, and said it was pseudo science and
they'd never done that in the forces, and I shrugged
and said "Well, it's pretty much standard practice in
salve management, in all the text books.  If you don't
believe me, are you man enough to try it?"

As ever, if you push the right buttons, it's easy
enough to get a man to do what you want, and by
suggesting that Jeff might not be up to it, he almost
demanded to do it.

I ordered Chas out of the harness, and held it out to
Jeff.  The leather was already wet and slimy from
Chas' sweat, and was giving out that agreeable scent
of wet leather and maleness, and as Jeff slipped it on
and stood next to dad, I almost saw myself there, as
we had been for so many years.  Two big naked guys,
the only real difference between them being that dad's
dick and balls were permanently cinched out a lot,
whereas Jeff's were much looser being held only by the
leather cock ring - oh, and of course as they turned,
there was no big brand on Jeff's butt, and no tattoo
to spoil the lines of his muscular back and shoulders.
 I speculated for a moment as to whether I would
eventually have Jeff branded and tattooed, but then
came back to the present and  ordered Chas to "drive",
and Juan to run alongside them all and to ensure they
kept up a really fast pace, handing him the tawse as I
did so, so he understood what I meant.

None of my papers got  reviewed that morning, as I was
too intent on sitting there watching them toil up and
down the lawns.  Juan didn't spare dad and Jeff, and
when they were nearest the house, I could hear that
characteristic "slap" that the tawse makes on bare
skin.   There was that wonderful scent of newly-mown
grass in the air, and I'm sure, though, that it was my
imagination that supplied overtones of male sweat as
even though I could see all four of them covered in
it, I know I was too far away to actually really get
it in my nose.

As slaves at work, they didn't stop at all, not even
for a short break, and when I finally called a halt as
lunch was about to be served and I wanted to eat with
Jeff, it looked to me as if he could barely walk back
up to the terrace.  He stood there in front of me,
literally covered in sweat, with lots of the short
mown grass clinging to his calves and thighs.  He
seemed to have forgotten all his worries about nudity,
as his dick, under the influence of the cock ring, was
sticking right up.  I told him to turn around, and his
back, butt and thighs were a livid red, overlaid with
stripes of an even darker hue, where the tawse had not
only caressed him but had been wielded with enough
force to cause bruising.  Still, there didn't seem to
be any permanent damage - he'd not be able to lie on
his back for a few days, but he'd recover.

He stood there in that pose of the utterly exhausted,
like you see at the end of marathons - head and
shoulders bent, and his hands pressing on his knees to
take some of the strain.  "So, Jeff, convinced?
Anything left to give now?"

"No, sir."

"Think about those slaves, though:  they've got to
continue doing it this afternoon, unless Stryker has
arranged another studding for them...."

"But that tawse... "

"Jeff, I told you that we need to make the slaves give
everything:  they'd just operate at low efficiency
otherwise.  And there's no permanent damage, not like
a whipping - only that initial sting, and the after
glow, to remind your brain to keep your body at it.
Anyway, time for lunch - go and wash all that grass
and sweat off you:  exciting though your smell is, I
don't want it spoiling my food."

I watched him under the outdoor shower by the pool as
he struggled to get the cock ring off, then just stood
there under the jets of water as if they'd somehow
wash away his utter exhaustion,  He walked back very
slowly, still naked, not even bothering to wrap a
towel around himself.

"It's not right, sir....", he began after he'd wolfed
down a big portion of the lasagne that we were having.
 "Not only the tawse, but we never stopped..."

"Of course not.  We don't waste the time of the slaves
in little rest breaks and so on."

"But not even to piss!  It wasn't until I saw Joe
letting a stream fly as we walked along that I
realised we weren't even going to be able to use a
proper restroom...."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Jeff!  What do you think this is?
 The bank, where we have to give up about ten percent
of every floor to restrooms and stuff?  These are
slaves , Jeff, and they can just piss as they go along
- it doesn't harm the grass.  It would be different if
I was one of those owners who gets some sort of kick
from seeing bitches harnessed to the mowers, as their
urine would leave dead patches.  But a man's piss
causes no problems..."

"But sir, it's not that - who cares about your fucking
grass!  It's treating them like animals...  They've
got no self respect...."

"That's what slaves are, Jeff - animals.  They're my
property, remember?  And you're wrong about the 'self
respect' stuff - I know I keep them naked, they have
to piss as they work, and they stud in public, stuff
like that.  But those slaves still have some self
respect - didn't Joe tell you how proud he was to be a
stud, and how he was proud to wear the snout ring that
marks him out as prime breeding stock?"

"But, sir..."

Our conversation - if that's what it was, as I was
calm and collected as ever, but Jeff was getting more
and more argumentative and his voice was steadily
rising - was interrupted at this point as Stryker came
up, holding a portable PC.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, and I know you hate 'New
York' intruding down here, but one of your
subordinates called Manderleigh a few minutes ago and
was absolutely insistent on speaking with you.  I told
him you had left standing orders never to be disturbed
on the weekends, and he was quite abusive, sir.
'Listen, fucker', he'd screamed, 'Go and tell Mr
Masters that if he doesn't call Tony in the next half
hour the sky will fall in on him!  And if you don't,
and you're a slave, he'll have your balls, and if
you're part of the hired help, you'll be on the
streets!'  It did sound very important, sir, so I
thought you might wish to be informed..."

I almost snatched the PC out of Stryker's hands and
flipped the lid open and pressed the keys to get Tony.
As soon as the screen lit up he at once began "Thank
god, Steve!  I thought those idiots down there would
fuck up your life for ever!  Get your ass back to New
York, now - there's no time to lose.  A secret board
meeting has been engineered for four this afternoon
and the word is that it's to appoint a new CEO!  They
didn't tell me and Miles, but all the other
bloodsuckers will be there, I believe.  Don't hang
around, Steve, get that jet of your fired up...."

"Are you certain?  I've got important business here
this afternoon."

"Believe me, Steve.  Yes."

I snapped the lid shut, and fired off orders to the
slaves to get the limo, alert the airport and get the
jet ready, and raced across the terrace towards the
house.  It only took me moments to collect my
important papers and a few other things, and I ran
down the steps into the limo.  Jeff was standing
there, still naked, and I shouted "Get in, idiot,
unless you want to spend a week down here..." , and we
were off.

I told the slave that we wanted a record time to the
airport else he'd be whipped, and just to disregard
the speed limits and stop signs and such as traffic
was light.  Jeff sat there looking really
uncomfortable - the air conditioning was on, of
course, so it wad comfortable for me but chilly for
him.   I could almost imagine the feeling of the cold
leather of the seats against his bare back and butt,
and I could see his nips jutting out fierce and proud
from his lovely dark aureoles as they reacted to the
low temperature.  This little feast for the eyes
distracted me a bit from my very real concerns about
the secret board meeting, but after a minute or so I
relented and decided to make Jeff more comfortable.
>From my bag got out Jeff's sweat pants and a T that
I'd picked up as I ran through the house collecting my
papers.

"Here", I said, smiling .  "You only have to be naked
for our bet when we're alone.  I can hardly have you
getting off the jet in New York like that - the place
is full of fags, and they'd all be after you once they
saw you!"

I watched as he struggled into the things - even in a
big limo, there's not much room, and anyway seeing a
guy raise his butt off the seat by arching his body
up, so he can slide pants on, is always interested.
When he'd "settled" his dick and stuff, he asked
"Trouble, sir?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose.  Since I took over running the
bank there's always been criticism.  I decided to
pursue a strategy of investing now, to scoop the pool
later.  I've turned down several short-term
potentially very profitable - but risky - projects in
favour of diverting our resources into much longer
term strategies.  In ten years time we'll be the
biggest, most profitable player in the world.  But
many of the directors disagree - their bonuses are
tied to short-term results and they're old:  they
can't afford to wait ten years, unlike me.  And the
big investors - pension funds, and mutuals, people
like that, all want a bit of money now and can't see
that it's best to forgo that in favour of an ocean of
it later.  So I suspect this is by way of a coup
attempt  - they're having a secret meeting to unseat
me."

"I thought I heard Miles discussing with you one day,
sir,  the question of your direct holdings and those
you exercised through trusts and so on.... He was
concerned that you might be breaking some rules or
other about not declaring a holding above some level
or other.... "


"I can see I need to be more careful with supposedly
'private' conversations!  But yes, ordinarily I do
control a lot of the bank stock.  But a cabal of major
external investors could upset things.  And if I was
voted off, even though I could get voted back on at
the next stockholders' meeting, the damage might be
done - it's harder to regain control sometimes, and so
it's best never to lose it in the first place."

On the plane I was in an almost constant three way
conference with Tony and Miles.  "Thanks, Tony, how on
earth did you find out?"

"You're fucking lucky, Steve, I'll say that for you!",
he started. "First you buy Chas at just the right
time, and now you find out about this... They really
did keep it a close secret until they knew you were
going to be away this weekend - you've not been
leaving New York a lot recently and they needed time."

I felt a slight twinge of guilt - I hadn't been
leaving  New York as I'd been avoiding "closing" with
dad.  And even as I thought this, I realised that I'd
once again not spoken to him, not hugged him, not sat
down and talked through the future with him.  I had
been going to do it that Saturday, until the studding
was sprung on me.  Then Sunday morning, until I
started playing games with Jeff, but I had definitely
intended to do it after lunch... And now, here I was,
en route back still not having done it.  Still, there
was always next weekend.

Tony was going on "Anyway, we'd have know nothing, had
it not been for Billy.  He's on the football team at
Columbia as you know, and after the game on Saturday
he went back to the apartment of one of his team
mates, on the Upper East Side.  Very big and
expensive, he says..."

"Tony, is this about how you wheedled and bribed  to
get an uneducated kid into college? Or about how well
Billy is doing socially?  I know those of you who slum
it down in the Village are always keen to break out
into the rarefied air of the chic apartments
uptown...."

We both laughed a bit, and Tony went on "Anyway, he
was fucking the guy when they both heard the slave
open the apartment door for the guy's father.  Billy
says the guy was terrified of his father finding them
- although they were after all only doing what a lot
of football players do together.  Billy didn't want to
stop fucking as he was about to cum, so he stuffed the
guy's jock in his mouth to stifle his cries and moans,
and carried on!"

"Tony, get to the point... Billy's love life isn't the
issue.  But I'm surprised you let him fuck around...
I thought he was your boy."

"Hey, Steve, he's nineteen!  Remember how you were
then - every ass looks exciting, a new challenge?  I
think it's best to let the kid sow his wild oats a
bit.... It makes him appreciate the home comforts of
me even more!"

I did remember how I was at nineteen - a slave, being
forced to stud.  Still, I did have dad. But I felt
very envious for a moment of young Billy, having the
freedom to fuck who he wanted and Tony to go back to
every night.

"Anyway, just as Billy's cum, and they're both lying
there totally silent,  kissing and stroking quietly,
not daring to laugh or talk in case the father hears,
Billy hears the man on the phone.  He can't make it
out completely through the wall, but he pricks up his
ear when he hears the bank mentioned, and the names of
two of three big Wall Street brokers, and some other
names.  He's a pretty bright kid with a good memory,
so after about an hour he and his friend get dressed
and say they've been 'studying'.  Then over dinner he
tells me about it, and I start to check out the
names."

"Once I see that some of our fellow executives are
talking to these names on the Street, I get worried.
There's this guy in IT - a bit of a geek, a real
techno-wizard, but with a nice hard body - who I've
been giving it to occasionally after I saw him at the
pool, so I call him up and we go down to the bank.
He's flattered that I want to fuck him on a Saturday
night - well, we hit a couple of the usual bars first
and he's kind of proud to show his regular fuck
buddies that he can snare a handsome older hunk like
me - and I 'persuade' him to break into the executive
e-mail and diary system."

"You mean the one we paid all that money for, with the
unbreakable encryption, only for executives, as we
were worried about the other employees finding out
really confidential stuff...?"

"Yes.  That one.  It seems it's not so 'unbreakable'
if you're a real computer geek and have privileged
access to our systems as you're in IT....  He was
bragging about it but said that he wouldn't do it, of
course, as it's a criminal offence that could lead to
enslavement.... But after he'd been taught a little
lesson by my dick and was in a more relaxed mood, he
was 'persuaded'.  So as he slept off the sex, I read a
whole lot of stuff that's been flying around recently,
and some of them have even been stupid enough to block
the time in their private diaries!"

"Great, Tony.  So now what?"

"Four this afternoon, in our very own board room."

"Can they do this, Miles?"

"Yes, although it's unusual.  Normally all board
members have to be given two weeks notice of a
meeting.  But in 'exceptional' circumstances a meeting
can be called instantly, although then there must be
at least three quarters of members present.  And the
board can elect who it likes to run the company."

"Bastards!", I snapped.  Heads will roll for this.
And I'm unhappy about the security of our systems,
too."

I saw Tony smile wolfishly on his half of the screen.
"Still, some good comes of this - I called the cops
and my little geek is even now waiting to be
auctioned:  he knew it was illegal, so he's only got
himself to blame.  But I've fancied his body for a
long time and thought that he'd make a good personal
body slave for me.  I'll get the bank to buy him, as
with a body like his, and as he's a whitey, he'll be
very expensive, far more than I'd want to pay
personally. Then the bank can rent him back to me for
a 'reasonable' rent - shall we say a dollar a month?
I take it that's OK, boss?"

"Of course, Tony.  I really owe you.  And a dollar a
month will be fine - providing I'm still boss, that
is!"

End Of Part Thirty