Date: Sun, 13 Feb 2005 07:47:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Enslaved, Part 8

ENSLAVED, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 8

It's one thing running along behind a rickshaw as I
had on the way to the veterinarians, as a relatively
"free" man, with just a light chain joining you to it.
And quite another to have to run alongside your fellow
sweating slave, pushing against the resistance of the
thing , using all the power in your butt and legs, and
straining your arms to press against the shafts.  The
bit is hateful, as you can't close your mouth properly
so drool leaks out from the corners, and you can't
take your hands off the shafts to wipe it away.  And
then, as you'd expect, there's the whip - I'd never
used a heavy whip when I was driving Blackie as I
didn't want to permanently scar his back and butt, but
had found that a light "carriage whip", one with a
very springy shaft and a medium-long thin spline, was
very suitable:  when it hits you there's a very sharp
stinging pain, rather  like being stung by a wasp,
that carries on reminding you for the next few minutes
that your driver is truly in charge of you.  Straughan
had just such a whip - mine, probably - and he didn't
spare us as we ran home:  you could almost feel
Blackie and I surge forward as he laid it on us, the
upper thighs being particularly painful.  And I also
found out just how bad "Half Mile Hill" is - it may
not sound much, but half a mile is a long way when
you're dragging a rickshaw, even a light one:  on the
level, once you're going, you only have to overcome
rolling resistance.  But up hill, you're actually
lifting some part of the weight of the rickshaw and
the driver up vertically all the time.... I seem to
remember it's the weight times one of those funny
things like sin or cosine of the angle of the slope,
as they kept trying to teach me at High School:
perhaps I'd have paid more attention if I knew there
was such a practical application of it!

When we got back to the plantation I was completely
exhausted, and I think Blackie was a bit disgusted
when I almost collapsed on the ground, rather than
standing there, head bowed, hands behind his back, as
he did (except, of course, that his chest was heaving
and the sweat was streaming off him, so he didn't look
as cool and composed as he had when we started!).
Straughan stood over me, sneered and said "You'll soon
get into proper shape, slave!  Off to the exercise
yard...."

Blackie and I trotted off, and I know he didn't like
being put through his paces again - the slave who had
been told to exercise me used a "leading rain" just as
I had done on Blackie all those years ago and made me
run around and around in circles, "encouraged" by the
whip.  He seemed to take a pride in having Blackie and
me both running around him at the same time.

That night, in our stall, Blackie was in a funny mood,
 half pissed off with me for my poor performance, and
half absolutely over the moon that he now had a
"proper" companion.  He insisted we went and visited
the two gangs of cart ponies to give them the good
news, but when we went to the stall that my uncle's
stallions usually occupied, it was empty.  At first we
thought that they were taking my uncle to a supper
party or something, but when they were not back long
after dark, Blackie guessed (correctly, as we were
subsequently to find out) that they had been sold, and
that he and I would therefore be pulling my uncle
everywhere in the big two-pony open landau he
preferred to use.  "It will be tough, Steve", he
confided in me, "as that thing is a bitch to pull as
it weighs so much.  But it's an honour to be promoted
to pull the owner, isn't it?  And I guess that that
means that the owner's nephew, my actual owner, isn't
expected back.  But don't worry about it too much - I
expect we'll be whipped a lot at first until you build
up your strength, but I'm used to that:  I've told you
that the nephew was a real fucker, and was always
whipping me, so I'm used to it."

I'd been going to try to broach the subject of my
enslavement with Blackie, but this new outburst made
me hold off a while yet. And, reader, I can genuinely
assure you that he was wrong!  I was never constantly
whipping Blackie - the most I ever did was to
"encourage" him up Half Mile Hill;  oh, and of course
sometimes he had to be made to gallop, even though he
was tired, when I was running late, as I'm a punctual
person and cannot abide arriving even a couple of
minutes after the agreed time.  But it was no more
than a pony should expect, really, and I think he was
making far too much of it - most of my acquaintances
regarded me as being an exemplary owner.

Still, that night it was difficult to upset Blackie,
as the more we lay together, the more excited he got.
We'd been fairly heavily kissing and stroking each
other, when he stopped, looked at me, and said "Well,
I guess this is what we've been waiting for, eh,
Steve?  So let's celebrate being together properly....
Come on, on your back, legs on my shoulders.... I
really want to watch you, Steve, as I fuck you for the
first time."

"Do we have to, Blackie?"

"Yes, Steve.  I'm the top guy here, and you know I've
been waiting for Straughan to remove that prohibition
on taking your ass.  And I held off last night, as you
were upset, and sore... But now....  Come on...."

I was dreading it.  I liked fucking Blackie and the
house boys, and I felt that this was my role in sex.
I'd seen just how strong and dominant Blackie could
be, too, and I wasn't looking forward to having to
play bottom to him, and then having him fuck me as
hard as I knew he was capable of.  But as it turned
out, my fears were groundless - somehow, with me,
Blackie was gentle, kind, considerate.... no, "loving"
is the word.  He kept his eyes locked on mine, watched
for my reactions as his dick played around my ass,
stopped whenever it looked as if I was in trouble, and
repeated things that I seemed to be enjoying.  It was
a different Blackie form the one I'd seen so far.

Afterwards, as we lay in each others arms, smiling and
gently stroking each other, I whispered "Blackie, that
was magic!  I know I don't have a lot of experience,
but that was utterly the best thing that's ever
happened to me.... But you were so different...."

"How, Steve?"

"So gentle, so... So caring.  You weren't like that
when you fuck the house boys..."

"No, Steve.  I've got a reputation to take care of!
And a lot of those boys like it rough, you know.  But
you're different, Steve, you're my buddy... No, more
than that, we're partners now, really close, as we're
going to live together and work together every minute
of every day.  I wouldn't want to hurt my buddy, my
partner, would I...."

I felt like crying.  This slave who in the past I'd
just treated as my pony, fairly but firmly, was now
really concerned for me.  I wished now that I'd been
kind to him, perhaps giving him a few words of
encouragement, or bringing him an apple or something
occasionally.  I felt awful, I suppose - and it struck
me that for me now, like it had been for him, there
was no escape: I was going to be treated as my uncle
saw fit, rather than as I really deserved.

The next two weeks there was this amazing dichotomy in
my life - all day I was pushed to the limits of my
endurance, either in my uncle's landau, or in the
exercise ring.  My back, butt and thighs were
constantly stung with the whip, and  by our return to
the stables I was tired in a way that I'd never been
tired before.  But then Blackie would come and hold
me, and start to kiss and stroke me, and before long I
was transported into that other world that only really
great sex can take you to:  my tiredness slipped away,
the aches in my body disappeared, and I was
deliriously happy as my brain focussed all its
resources on the sheer enjoyment that Blackie was
bringing to me.  He was the best lover I ever had, and
nothing I've ever experienced since really compares
with those nights as we used each other on the straw -
and yes, it was mutual!  Blackie was a good enough
lover to know that I liked fucking, too, and he would
let me fuck him sometimes, using the occasion to help
me learn and hone my own skills as I did so.

We only had our work and sex in common, I suppose.
Blackie and I came from such different backgrounds
that, even though I had to invent a lot of stuff about
my life before enslavement, that we didn't really
understand each other all that well at first as we had
so little in common.  I'd always been relatively well
off, and he had never had anything.  I'd been to good
schools, he'd left at sixteen to try to find work.
I'd had girlfriends (and, although I didn't tell him
this of course, slave girls), whereas he'd had a
childhood sweetheart, whom he'd married as soon as she
got pregnant the first time, then he'd fathered a
second son almost as soon as possible.  He was older
than me by seven years, and he'd certainly seen more
of "life", I guessed.  And however much we were close
to each other, I still couldn't get him to talk to me
about his wife and sons.  As he said to me as I
pressed him one night, "Look, Steve, there are some
things that are really private, even when you're with
the guy you absolutely love most in the world.  You
must know that, having those women and sons of your
own...."  I felt like a real heel, having to keep
betraying his trust by keeping up the pretence.

I was really getting on top of things after a month,
though:  my muscles had strengthened, my skin was less
sensitive to the sting of the whip, and I was having
absolutely fabulous amazing sex every night.  I had a
companion, friend, lover.... someone I had never been
as close to before.  Blackie and I spent all our time
together, literally - there were no trips to the
office or the mall to separate us, no different
working hours or meal times, no one partner watching
TV whilst the other did the dishes or anything.  No,
we spent every minute of every day together, either in
the shafts of my uncle's landau, or in our stall - we
were buck naked, and could have no secrets form each
other (other than those big, deep, ones you know
about!). Of course I hadn't given up hope on a
reconciliation with my uncle - he wanted an heir, I
knew, and I was the only person who could give him
one.  But now I was thinking it might take six months
before he decided I'd been punished enough.

Both Blackie and I got to fuck the house slaves as the
young guys were lining up to "try out" the new stud -
I think Blackie was a bit jealous, as they had been
his sole province before.  Mind you, I needed this -
Blackie just wouldn't let me fuck him as often as he
fucked me, and insisted on riding my ass every night.
As I said, though, he was an amazing lover and I
suppose I didn't mind - although my natural tendency
is to "top", and I determined that as soon as I was
free again things would change - these young guys were
all really fuckable, but I wanted more: older, more
mature bodies to fuck.  Still, it was all fun, and I
really did begin to get almost cross at the way that
everyone had misled me all my life - I guess I felt
it's a bit like Santa Claus when you're a kid -
everyone else is in on the secret, and you have to
find out for yourself!  Now I remembered all that crap
from the teachers at school, the lessons from the
preacher at church every Sunday, and what the TV shows
all  said all the time: about how fucking with other
guys was "sinful" :  Ha!  If this is a sin, give me
more, I thought, and got angry about all the time I'd
wasted since I was sixteen when I could have been out
there really enjoying myself.  And how much better our
football team would have been if we'd all been
properly bonded.... As I said, what a waste!

You know how slaves chatter unmercifully about the
private lives of their masters, and one afternoon when
we had pulled my uncle over to Marie-Louise's parents'
house for tea, Blackie and I were standing at the
front door (heads bowed, hands clasped - I'd learned
that now), when we heard two of the house slaves
talking as they passed - unlike at my uncle's house, a
lot of the house slaves were female, and of course
they tend to talk more anyway.  It seemed that all was
being made ready for the return of Marie-Louise from
Paris the following week - her suite was being
redecorated "as befits a married lady", new closets
were being built for all her fashionable new clothes,
and there was a general air of buzz and excitement
about this stupendous event.  My spirits rose at once
- if Marie-Louise had got a husband, then  a lot of
the anger of her parents and my uncle would naturally
dissipate:  no one could say that there was anything
wrong with her if she came back with some handsome
Frenchman, or even an American whom she'd met over
there.    I'd been puzzling about the papers my uncle
and her father had been talking about on that night
when they'd both raped me, but it didn't seem to
matter as much now, as I felt certain my freedom was
imminent.

That night, in the stables, however, Straughan was
waiting.  He watched as the stable lad took off my
head harness (yes, my head had been shaved, just like
Blackie's, so that I could be properly harnessed and
made to run with my head thrown back in the
fashionable manner) and took my bit out.  Then he came
over, commanded me to stand up on one of the straw
bales, and told me to spread my legs.

>From his coat pocket he pulled out a shiny stainless
steel cylinder about the size of a large banana, made
out of a mesh, with a steel strap at one end of it.
As I stood there, not daring to defy him, he pulled
the mesh cylinder over my dick, then pulled my balls
down in their sac and cinched the strap around the
skin between my body and my trapped balls.  A small
adjustment with a tiny tool he produced, and he stood
up with a smirk on his face.

"There, Steve.  I'm afraid that's going to cramp your
style a little for the next few days - this is a
chastity device that's usually used for male slaves
who have to be around free women unsupervised, and
where the assignment is temporary and doesn't warrant
the slave being gelded.  Your dick's in there, and it
can't get out - not without the key to unlock the
strap around your balls, anyway.... and I'm holding on
to that.  It's all perfectly hygienic - you can piss
as normal, you can keep yourself clean as the shower
water gets to your dick, and you can even have
erections (although your dick has to support the
weight of the cylinder, as well as itself!).  The only
think you can't do is fuck, or jerk off, or even get a
blow job!  We want those balls of yours to be nice and
full, and the only way we can ensure that, with a
healthy young guy like you, is to lock your dick up in
its own little cage for a few days."

Well, let me tell you - for a healthy young guy like
me, especially one who'd got used to regular sex and
lots of it, it was fucking awful!  After the first
couple of days my balls ached continuously with that
dull ache that says they need release.  My dick was
almost always erect (I had lots of erections normally,
a you'd expect for a guy my age, but now it seemed as
if I was always hard) and the weight of the stainless
steel mesh made me generally sore.  I was leaking
pre-cum everywhere all  the time, and I was totally
frustrated.  Blackie did his best - he tried to probe
his tongue down the cylinder, but only succeeded in
just touching my dick head with the very tip, and that
made the frustration of not getting release so much
worse.  He tried fingering my prostate, getting his
strong fingers right up my ass as we'd both heard that
a guy could be made to cum just from prostate massage
- well, this one couldn't!  Mind you, it was an
interesting experiment.

After ten days I was almost at the end of my tether -
I was so frustrated that I lost my temper at the
slightest thing, and I could hardly bear to have
Blackie touch me, it was so frustrating.  Not that
that stopped him, of course.  As he said,  "Steve, be
reasonable!  Just because you can't have sex for the
time being, that doesn't mean I should have to stop
too, right?  So stop being so fucking selfish, and get
down on your back and get your legs in the air...."

We had been out working all the morning of the
eleventh day, taking Straughan on various errands
around the plantation, and at lunchtime he directed us
back to the house.  Leaving Blackie in the shafts, he
took me in to the "preparation area" I'd been in
before, and I got the same kind of thorough cleaning
and going over as I had that first time, prior to my
rape.  I wasn't particularly worried by this - I'd
taken dick so often now that even if my uncle wanted
to pound me again, it wouldn't be a problem.  But, on
the other hand, my mood brightened as I thought that
my uncle might be about to forgive me, and had called
me for an interview.

The two slaves who were cleaning me up laughed and
joked about the chastity device on my dick, but
Straughan had to be called to release it as they
couldn't properly shave my balls silkily smooth whilst
it was there - that was another part of the problem it
was causing me:  my pubes were growing back and the
thick stubble was intensely itchy (as well as the
other frustrations I was suffering!).   Before he
undid the catch holding the strap around my sac,
though, Straughan stood there and put on one of the
restraint collars around my neck, and fastened my
wrists to it at the back.  I thought at first that he
didn't trust me not to immediately start jerking off,
but when the slaves had finished and Straughan had
felt my sac and pronounced it satisfactory (I was
getting over the humiliation of having this employee
handle me now), he didn't fit the sheath around my
dick again.  Instead, he took out my bit and muffler,
and replaced it with a ball gag.  I'd given up
protesting by this stage in my "career" as a slave, as
firstly it didn't do any good, and secondly it only
got me punished, so all of this went off relatively
smoothly.

Straughan told me to follow him out of the house, and
there outside, still waiting patiently, was Blackie.
I assumed Straughan would chain me to the carriage as
he had before, but instead he told me to get up into
it.  Then he sat beside me, snapped "Walk on!" To
Blackie in the traditional way of starting a journey,
and gave him a light touch of the riding whip across
his butt to "encourage" him.  It must have been really
hard work for Blackie, as this carriage was supposed
to be pulled by two ponies, and now there was only
him, and two passengers, too.  But it was a nice
change for me, and almost like old times, sitting
there enjoying the countryside, and watching Blackie's
magnificent body working away.

It was obvious after the first mile that we were
heading for Marie -Louise's place, and in spite of
being only a single pony and having this heavy load,
Straughan didn't spare Blackie the horrors of Half
Mile Hill, using the whip quite viciously, I thought,
to keep Blackie's pace up.

When we arrived the contrast between Blackie and me
was astonishing - he was almost falling over with
tiredness and the sweat was dripping off the end of
his dick, so much was flowing over his body, whereas I
was relatively cool, and not even breathing heavily.
I stood there with my hands cuffed behind my neck as
Straughan said "Good, Steve.  You see I need you in
good condition, and I wouldn't want you all sweaty
like that... Time enough for that later.  Now stand
here whilst I go in and make arrangements."

I stood there at the foot of the steps of the mansion
that I guess Marie-Louise and I could own one day (she
was an only daughter) as the hot sun beat on my naked
skin.  Blackie was recovering, and he looked at me and
raised an eyebrow questioningly, and I gave a slight
shrug in return, as neither of us knew what was
happening.  Even though we were both gagged and unable
to speak, it was surprising how much the slave
mentality was getting to me - these tiny gestures were
so slight, as we knew that it wasn't just speaking,
but "communication" that was frowned on when you were
a slave, and more overt gestures than this might have
resulted in punishment had we been seen.

My dick was erect - I was getting almost continuous
boners now - and I wondered if I dared risk moving
from where Straughan had left me so that I might rub
myself against Blackie.  Even the slight touch of his
skin against my dick would be enough to make me cum
and give me relief, I knew.  But then, the thought of
what might happen if Straughan came back and found us
in the act, or even if he saw Blackie's body running
with my cum, made me desist.  Just as well, as he
appeared at the top of the steps and beckoned for me
to go up.

The entrance hall was still and quiet, just as I
remembered it from that day which now seemed so long
ago when I'd stood there in my tight hose and
stretched shirt, waiting to go into tea, and, yes, it
must still be tea time as I could hear the faint
sounds of conversation and the tinkle of the thin
china tea cups.  The marble was cool to my naked feet,
and I padded over, following Straughan, to the big
double height extra wide doors that I knew led into
the drawing room.  Unusually, there was no slave there
to open them, so Straughan did so himself, and ushered
me in.

Shame and embarrassment flooded over me, and I knew I
was starting to blush bright red in an instant.
There, sitting on the sofas in front of the huge
fireplace (filled with an exquisite arrangement of
fresh-cut flowers) were my uncle, Marie-Louise, and
her parents!  They were taking tea, and on the low
tables scattered around I could see the silver tea
service, the fine cups and plates, and all the salvers
of hot buttered crumpets, freshly-made scones, and
thinly-cut sandwiches that were usual at this meal.  A
dark brown fruit cake and a light as air Victoria
sponge occupied another table, waiting to be cut.

Marie-Louise was in black - presumably some
ultrafashionable Paris dress, in silk - with a small
cocktail hat on her head that held up a half veil in
gossamer thin mesh that covered her eyes.  My uncle,
and her parents, were in what we call "visiting
clothes" - pale afternoon suits, conservatively cut,
for the men, and a flowing dress in crisp starched
cotton, with many flounces and frills, for
Marie-Louise's mother.  What the fuck was going on?
The very contrast between the extreme formality of the
scene and my utter nakedness made me feel very
uncomfortable indeed - I thought I'd got used to being
naked, but was surprised how badly I felt in front of
these people who knew me so well.

My uncle dismissed Straughan, telling him to wait
outside in case he might be needed to "control the
slave" in case of problems, an order that was not lost
on me, as Straughan carried his customary light whip.
Then all four pairs of eyes started to examine me
closely.

"Turn around, Steve", my uncle said. "...so that we
can get a good look at you."  What the fuck was going
on, I wondered.  I thought at first of just standing
there, but the prospect of Straughan's whip made me
move, and I slowly rotated so that they could see all
of me.

"So", my uncle continued, "Now that you have had an
opportunity to see the entire body, I'm sure you will
agree with me that it's in fine shape and should be
excellent breeding stock.  Now, sir, madam, Miss
Marie-Louise, would you like to inspect him properly?
I've had him cuffed and gagged so there should be no
trouble in approaching him, but we can soon get
Straughan in here if there's any difficulty.... I
would just caution you, however, that he has had
no.... no.... 'no relief', as we might say, for a
number of days, and so he is probably extremely
sensitive.  I wouldn't want there to be any mess on
your clothes, or on the exquisite furnishings in this
room - a tribute to your taste and delicacy, if I may
say so, ma'am".  He finished with a slight bow and a
nod towards Marie-Louise's mother.

"I think I can speak for all of us", her father
replied, "In saying that that won't be necessary.  He
is indeed a fine specimen - and it's interesting to
see the flesh properly.  When your nephew was here
last, we had to make certain assumptions, based on
what was revealed by his visiting clothes.... This
slave seems to be an improvement over that.. .the
musculature I superb..."

He winked as he said this, so I knew all the family
knew who I was.  Fuck me - this was awful!  How on
earth was I ever going to look my parents in law in
the eye after I'd married Marie-Louise?  After all,
it's not many parents of the bride who would be there
at the wedding having seen their son in law completely
naked - and erect, I now realised:  the tension had
had the inevitable effect.

"Yes, I've had this slave exercising properly - he's
turning out to be very useful on the estate", my uncle
continued smoothly. "Although Jon used to go to the
gym, there's no substitute for real hard work, I
believe, in giving a body proper tone, and muscles
that are worth looking at."

He sat back a little on the sofa, then leaned forward
to Marie-Louise and her family.  "So, are we still
agreed?  The lawyers have looked over the papers, and
I'm still happy.... Shall we sign now, and then
proceed?"

Marie-Louise's father looked at her, and she nodded.
Oh no - they were going to sell me to this family!
I'd be a slave to them, as well as their son-in-law!
This was fucking awful - I wanted to be free, to
marry, have the kids, then go my own way.  And how
would I get Blackie here, if I was a virtual slave in
this house and he was still at the plantation?

My uncle and Marie-Louise's father were using
expensive gold fountain pens to sign a great pile of
legal documents, then solemnly shook hands.  "There -
our estates both in to the trust fund to be managed by
us until the heirs of your daughter Marie-Louise and
my nephew Jon come of age", my uncle said.  And as I
heard this, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  My
freedom couldn't now be long coming, as they were
discussing our kids.

"My dear, are you ready?", Marie-Louise's father
asked, and she nodded. "We may as well begin then, as
the doctor is waiting....  I'll call him in."

"No, father.  After what happened to me, the shame,
the disgrace, the way I had to leave home and can only
now return after you made this arrangement.... I want
to do the next part myself.  I liked that Jon, and
when I saw him in his tight hose, I was excited at the
prospect of our marriage.  It's only right that I
should get a little of the experience, a very
little...."

"Are you sure, my dear?  Shall your mother and I
withdraw?"

"Oh no, father... I'm quite a woman of the world after
my Paris sojourn."

I was utterly confused now.  Surely she and I weren't
going to fuck here, were we?  That's what it sounded
like!  My already hard erection stiffened, and my dick
started to give those little involuntary jerks of its
own, as you get sometimes before a spontaneous
ejaculation.  I tried to stop myself, as the thought
of spraying my cum over the room wasn't nice!

Marie-Louise got up and went to a low table to the
side of the room.  I can still hear in my mind the
rustle of the expensive silk of her dress as she
moved, and then approached me.  She was holding
something that looked like a large glass ash tray,
then, her mouth set in something that I couldn't
decide was a sneer or a smile, she reached out and
took hold of my dick!  I felt the lightness and
softness of her touch, but again, one of those things
that snaps into my memory just like a photograph is
the sight of her bright scarlet immaculately groomed
fingernails as her long fingers curled around me.
She'd never done anything like this the two or three
times we'd dated - I'd had to make all the running,
and a quick fumble with her breasts was all I got for
an evening's work.  Paris must have changed her, as
she didn't hesitate to start jerking me off, and she
was pretty expert - she didn't just stroke the shaft
as so many women wrongly do, but let her fingers bang
into the flange of my head, whilst her little finger
curled around so that my piss slit scraped into her
sharp nail.

I've told you I was already right on the edge because
of me enforced celibacy, and I knew I couldn't hold
out under this stimulation for long.  I just didn't
know what to do - I was hugely humiliated to being
jerked off by a woman, someone who'd used to be my
girlfriend, and whose parents were watching, along
with my own uncle!  But what could I do about it? I
was gagged, so I couldn't protest verbally, and
cuffed, so I couldn't stop her.  I did the only thing
open to me, and tried to pull back, but she must have
sensed this was going to happen as her other hand
snaked out and grabbed my balls, and pulled me back
towards her.  "You're not escaping this time...", she
hissed.

To my horror I felt my dick start to jerk itself and
my balls contract preparing to shoot, and then I began
that wonderful series of contractions that your balls
and dick do when they're completely loaded and
stimulated beyond endurance.  I began too pump a huge
amount of cum, at high velocity.  Marie-Louise must
have felt this beginning to happen, as quick as a
flash she bent my dick down so that my seed was caught
in the ashtray thing... But then she carried on
stroking me!  Well, you know how it is when you've
shot, if you're one of those guys who, like me, has a
sensitive dick!  I just can't bear to be touched on
the dick when I've cum, but she kept stroking and
jerking me.  My body convulsed, I tried to scream, I
tried to pull away, but she held on to my dick.  The
after shocks that her continued jerking  of me caused
produced even more cum, and when she thought I had
finally shot everything I could, she at last stopped.

There, in the glass dish in her hand, was the biggest
load of cum I had even produced, lying there milky
white.  I could smell that characteristic smell of it
even above the whiff of my own sweat, which this
intense bout of sexual stimulation had produced.
Marie-Louise picked up a similar sized glass container
and put it over the top of the one she was holding -
now I saw it was one of those things they use in labs
- Petrii dishes I think they're called.

Leaving me standing there, still shaking from my
ordeal, she went over to my uncle and showed him the
contents of the dish, remarking that it seemed to be
"very satisfactory" and "almost certainly enough".
She showed her father, too, but I noticed that her
mother was left out of this display of my semen.

"Right, my dear", her father said.  "The doctor is
waiting....  Hurry along, whilst it's fresh.  I don't
think there'll be a problem, as Steve is so obviously
virile and we have so much of his seed there, but it's
best not to waste time as we don't want to have to go
through all this again."

Marie-Louise left the room, and my uncle asked her
mother to ring the bell.  When the slave appeared, at
once, as you'd expect in such a well-run house, my
uncle told him to fetch Straughan, and when he
reappeared, my uncle told him to take me back to the
plantation as they were finished with me.

I didn't have a ride back as I had when we came.
Straughan took out my gag and fitted the usual bit and
muffler plate, and told me to join Blackie in the
shafts.  As we stood there, Straughan was almost
laughing.  "Well, boy, that's you done, I would think,
until the next time.  Your owner wants an 'heir and a
spare', and with any luck he's achieved the first part
of that.  So we'll all be here again next year...."

He saw me looking puzzled, and said "Boy, are you
thick!  That cum of yours is even now in a turkey
baster and being inserted into the heiress to this
place!  I expect the doctor calls it some fancy name,
and charges a huge fee, but that's what it is - just a
turkey baster, to pump your cum right up inside her.
And just think - your owner's nephew could have done
the job properly, if he hadn't been so wilful and
stupid.  Still, you're a slave, Steve, and even though
you might be stupid, we'll have lots of time to knock
any wilfulness out of you....!"

Than night Blackie kept asking me what had happened,
and what Straughan was going on about, but I didn't
want to tell him - indeed, I thought it best not to!
I realised now that my uncle and Marie-Louise's father
both were getting what they wanted - a liaison between
their two properties, so that it could ultimately be
given to the kids of Marie-Louise and me.  But I saw
now that I was probably never going to be free -
Marie-Louise had been inseminated with my cum, and I
would be forced to do the same at some point in the
future, when she was ready to produce the "spare".
My uncle didn't need me to be a free man, he didn't
need to recognise me as his nephew or anything like
that - how much more simple to keep me on the
plantation, as one might a prize bull, to produce
semen for his breeding programme when he wanted.

If I was going to have to live and work with Blackie,
I couldn't now tell him the truth, especially after
I'd already lied to him since I got here.  He kept
questioning me, though, and at one point I got really
worried.  "Steve", he muttered, pulling his tongue out
of my mouth, "You know, you're a really strange guy
sometimes.  All this secrecy about what Straughan did
to you - I thought you didn't want to tell me that
he'd taken you into that place and fucked you, but
your hole's clean and tight, as I've just found out.
Still, I expect you'll tell me one day.  But the other
day, when you loosened my bit and did my head strap up
tighter - that's what my owner, the nephew, always
did.  He always said that lad in the stables couldn't
get it right, and always adjusted it before we went
off for a ride.  And, you know, you felt my neck and
massaged my Adam's apple just as he used to.... You're
very alike in some ways...."

I had to really tweak his nips then to cause him to
give a little squeal, so I could get my tongue in him
and shut him up... And we soon went on from there to
other Polaris, which I think took his mind off it.

Two weeks later, as we took my uncle to church on
Sunday morning, Marie-Louise and her parents drove up
in the family carriage, pulled by four enormous
matched niggas.  She was wearing an even more
magnificent black dress, now with a large
broad-brimmed black hat that shaded her face.  She was
carrying a black prayer book, and a black hand bag,
and as the family made its way into the church she
leaned heavily on her father's arm, was comforted by
her mother, and dabbed constantly at her eyes with  an
extravagant black lace handkerchief.

Blackie and I stood properly as trained ponies in the
shafts whilst the service was going on, but there were
a lot of young slave lads who were playing an
impromptu game of ball as they waited for their masers
and mistresses - it had become fashionable to have
young sixteen year olds, fresh to slavery, as personal
servants to carry bibles and hymn books to church, and
to hold umbrellas or parasols, depending on the
season, over the ladies.   Some of them were listening
to the service through the open windows, though, and
seemed affected by it:  still, what do you expect?  We
used to try to get our slaves interested in religion
if we could, as it made them easier to control if they
swallowed all that crap about loving your master,
accepting your place in the scheme of things, and
knowing that you'd have a better life hereafter...
Like most of the owners, my uncle and I just went to
the place every Sunday as it was considered the
"gentlemanly" thing to do, and we obviously were not
as gullible as these simple idiots.

One of the young lads came past us, rubbing away tears
from his face.  Blackie broke training to put out a
hand and haul the lad close to us - he was, I saw, one
of the new slaves from our own house, one that both
Blackie and I had fucked during the week.  Blackie
mimed at him to tell us what was going on, and
in-between his sobs, he blurted out "Oh Steve,
Blackie... The preacher was telling us about the
parable of the bad son who the father rejoiced about
when he came home.... Then he went on to say that even
though our good Lord tries to make everyone happy,
even slaves, sometimes his ways are difficult to
understand as things are not always like the bible,
but we must have faith."

Blackie looked at me and shrugged - it sounded like
the typical crap they served up in there, that didn't
make any sense.  "Yes", the lad went on, "He asked for
the prayers of everyone for our owner, and for
mistress Marie-Louise and her family, in their sad
loss.  The errant 'son' of our owner was not going to
come back like the black sheep in the parable in the
bible, but we still needed to pray for him."

Blackie and I still looked puzzled, and he continued
"It seems that our owner's nephew went away to Paris,
to study art.  Mistress Marie-Louise followed him, as
she loved him, just as the Lord loves us.  They
married in secret there, but then our owner's son ate
oysters one night that were 'off', and died in spite
of the efforts of the hospital and everything.  So
Mistress Marie-Louise came home - but the lord showed
his mercy to our owner and to Marie-Louise by blessing
her with a child... It's just been confirmed."

Well, I suppose that if you're gullible enough to
believe all the god rubbish, you'd swallow that story
too.  But now I knew I was a slave for life - they'd
concocted this story which neatly explained my
disappearance and Marie-Louise's flight to Paris, and
would explain away the baby.  I wondered what they'd
do to explain the "spare" at some point in the future!


End Of Part 8