Date: Fri, 12 Sep 2003 11:22:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Harbour Master, Part 18

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 18

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Matt was still lying there when I got back, although
judging by the way all the clothes on the bed were
arrayed, he'd been struggling mightily to try to
escape.

"Right, Matt.  Now let me give your next lesson in
being a slave.  I've just shown the doctor how it
feels to be circumcised, and now I'm going to show you
how it feels to live as  a slave."

I fetched two pieces of rope from the garage, and
stood there, looking at him.  "Right - legs in the
air, and as far back as you can get them... I need to
be able to get at your balls, and your ass crack."

Matt did nothing, and so I went to pick up one of his
legs.  He resisted with all his might, and even tried
to kick me with the leg I wasn't holding.

"Naughty, Matt!  I think you're piling up a lot of
punishment for yourself.  Now....."

I reached in between his flailing legs and took a firm
grip on his balls.  "Now, you stupid fucker, lie still
and do as you're told.  You've only still got those
balls now as I'm choosing, for the time being, not to
castrate you as you were planning to do to me.  Lift
your left leg in the air..."

I gave his balls a little squeeze as I said this, to
emphasise the powerlessness of his position.
Reluctantly Matt raised his leg, and I seized it, tied
rope around his ankle, then pulled it up and
backwards.  I did the same with the right leg, and
Matt's feet were hovering somewhere over his
shoulders.  He was totally unable to move, and was
spread out in the classic "fucking" position, when you
normally get the guy to grab his own ankles as you
don't want them around your neck.

To emphasise my control, I leaned forward and rubbed a
finger over his hole - he winced, and I could see from
the way it was all red and angry looking that he must
be in some pain following his rape.  "Sorry, Matt", I
said conversationally.  "But sex can be rough when
there's an aggressive top in control and the bottom
doesn't cooperage fully.  You'll remember next time,
though, won't you, and try not to piss me off?"

I turned and went into the bathroom and came back with
the electric hair clippers.  As Matt watched
helplessly, totally unable to move, I used them to
shave the thick hair off the inside of his thighs, and
along the track between his hole and the base of his
balls.  I then ran it on up, taking as much hair off
his balls as I could, then held his dick with one hand
and moved it from side to side as I generally tidied
up the unruly mass of his pubic hair.

"Don't worry, Matt.  I've decided you can keep some of
your pubic hair, as I think the totally shaved look
makes you look like a schoolboy!  But I don't like all
that mass of hair spreading from thigh to thigh, so
I've given you a neat 'slave trim' - you know, as you
gave me every week or so.  Now you know what's coming
next, don't you?  Every two days, what do you make me
do?  I have to kneel there in the bathroom whilst you
watch me shave my ass and my balls.  You told me you
like to see slaves with bare balls, as it makes them
look bigger.... Well.... I think you're right!  A
neatly trimmed pubic bush, and clean shaven balls, do
make the slave's tackle look bigger and more
prominent.  So that's what going to happen to you."

I took the shaving brush, lathered it up, and covered
his balls and ass area with white foam.  Matt had been
good in allowing me to use disposable razors to shave
myself, so I now used three of them to carefully shave
all around his hole, then all the way to his balls,
and finally to clean all the stubble that the clippers
had left from the balls themselves.  Remembering how I
had lain there terrified the first time someone had
done this intimate thing to me, I was careful to cause
him no real pain but occasionally to "touch" his balls
awkwardly, just enough to make him start, and to
worry!

When I'd done, I undid the ropes and he was again
lying flat on the bed in front of me. I ran my hands
up from his newly trimmed pubic bush along the little
trail of hair that ran across his belly, then riffled
my fingers through the thick thatch of hair on his
chest.

"You told me you liked my 'treasure trail', Matt.  And
you didn't trim my chest as you said it made me look
virile, so you can keep yours for now - but I may
decide I want you to be a bit more 'sculptured', so
that men can see more of your musculature, and so you
may have to lose it later.  There's only three places
to be done now, thought - your pits, your head, and
your ass crack."

It was easy to do his pits - with his wrists
restrained behind his neck, they were fully exposed
and I easily trimmed the long hair there down to a
more respectable half inch - I don't like to see a
man's armpit hair sticking out from between his body
and his arm when he's at "rest".  But to do his head,
and his ass crack, I had to undo the tie that was
holding his collar to the bed post.

Matt stupidly tried to hit me and make another run for
it as I released him, and so I had to knock him to the
floor again, quite hard.  I sat astride his body
whilst I used the electric clippers to reduce his head
hair all over to a uniform quater inch - he looked
much more virile, and much tougher, with his wavy hair
left lying on the floor.

"OK, Matt, almost there!  Now, up off the floor, and
lie on the bed, face down, with your feet on the
floor."

He really struggled to get up - you try, with your
hands cuffed as his were.  I saw he was learning,
though, as he made no attempt to run this time. He lay
there, face down, and I spread his ass cheeks apart
with one hand, so that I could get one of the little
plastic razors down there and shave away the hairs in
his crack.

"All done!", I said cheerfully, giving his ass a
friendly slap (although a hard one!). "Come and look
at the new Matt in the mirror."

He stood there, looking at himself, and I commented
"Without all that hair on your head, you look much
tougher - and a few years younger, I think!  But look
at your dick - isn't it amazing how much bigger it
looks?  Not that it was actually small, but now it
looks as massive as it actually is.   And your balls
are improved, too, aren't they?  Look, compare them
with mine, now we've both got them prominently on
display.  Take a few steps..."

Matt moved across the room.

"Feels different, doesn't it?  Without all those hairs
down your crack, you can feel your ass cheeks moving
together."

"Now", I went on, "You will in future shave your face
every two or three days - just as you did for me, I
like to see a man with a bit of stubble on his face as
it makes him look tougher and more virile.  But I
don't like to feel stubble around the balls - so, at
the same time, you will shave your balls and your
crack.  OK?"

Matt just stood there, so I went and stood beside him.
 I pressed my foot down on to his, and pushed hard!
The tough sole of my foot pushed the top of his foot
down, and he tried to scream through the gag.  "Hurts,
doesn't it, Matt?  A heavy guy like me stepping on
your foot?  No damage, though, as it's my naked foot
on yours.  But if you continue to defy me by not
answering my reasonable questions, I'll make you hurt
a lot more!"

"Now, do you understand my instructions for keeping
yourself neat and tidy, in the way I like?"

He was seeing sense - I was gaining, as Matt nodded.

"Right, we're out of here then.  We can't stay, as too
many people know me as a slave and you as a master.
We'll go somewhere where they'll think you're the
slave... And that takes money!  Now, isn't it about
15K you're hiding from the IRS...  Lucky you were
mostly a cash business. And isn't it all in your
safe?"

Matt was looking frantic now, as we went downstairs
and I pulled away the wall hanging that was hiding
Matt's safe.

"As you can't do it, Matt, I'll have to work the
combination.... Now, that's the first number?"

Matt just stood there, so I reached down and grabbed
his balls.  "Look, fucker, this is not a game!  I need
that money to make my escape.  And if I can't escape,
you're going to lose these.  Now.... What's the first
number?"

I had to really hurt him, I think, as he was writhing
on the floor after a couple of minutes - it was his
own fault though, wasn't it? A slave shouldn't have
any secrets from his master, especially where money is
concerned!  As soon as I sensed he was ready to give
it up, I knelt beside him and got him to "tell" me the
six numbers by asking him successive questions to
which he could nod or shake his head.

He actually had close to 16K in there, and I knew we
had a good start - clearly we couldn't use Matt's
credit cards, as they could so easily trace where the
transactions were performed.

"Right - everything a slave needs... Except one
thing... A tracker chip!"

I was still naked all this time, and now I squatted on
the floor in front of Matt and tried to crap. I was
used to him seeing me doing this, of course, as he'd
made me do it totally in public on our first day
together, and ever since he allowed me absolutely no
privacy in the bathroom.  I strained and pushed, and I
thought Matt thought I wanted to crap all over the
living room!  But all I did was squeeze the little
steel cylinder that was the 'tracker' out of my ass,
where I'd been concealing it.

"Yes, Matt", I told him.  "This is why I can escape
from you.  I have managed to get the 'tracker' chip
removed.  So the Slave Police can no longer track me.
I can disappear back into the ranks of the free men.
And with  your 16K, that would be easy to do - I think
that's a fair payment for the work I've done for you.
But of course it doesn't compensate me for being
tattooed, 'skinned, and branded.  And for all the
misery and worry from your threats of slicing and
castration.  You've got to pay me for those, too, and
there's not enough  money in the world to do that -
instead, I've decided to have you serve as my slave."

"Now, lie quiet a minute whilst I go back upstairs and
get something.... Don't try to rush for the door - if
I hear it open, I'll be down here and I'll beat the
life half out of you.  Understand?"

I think I was getting through to Matt, as he gave a
sort of resigned shrug.  I wasn't in much danger, as
with his hands cuffed he'd have had problems in
opening the front door - and I could easily catch him,
I thought.

Upstairs in the bathroom cabinet was some "instant
analgesic" spray that Bill had bought when he'd been
having a bit of a problem with his shoulder after he'd
done something stupid whilst swimming.  I collected
it, and went back downstairs and also got some olive
oil from the kitchen.

"OK, Matt.  You've got to be 'chipped' now.  This
little tracker has to be inserted up your ass.  I
can't get it as far up as they did at the slave
centre, but I think I can locate it so that it doesn't
interfere with my dick whilst I'm, fucking you.  So
get and kneel of the coffee table, and push your
shoulders down so your ass is high in the air...."

Matt whimpered something from behind his gag.  I
guessed what he was saying.

"I'm not a sadist, you know.  I'll only hurt you when
you deserve punishment, or when I want to teach you a
lesson.  You've been punished today when I fucked you,
and I don't need to teach you how much that hurts
again.  So I've got this spray to cool your inflamed
membranes whilst I get inside you.... Now.... Just
keep still!"

I pushed his ass apart, and sprayed the soothing spray
onto the inflamed membrane of his hole.  It looked so
red and angry, that I almost felt sorry for him.  He
flinched as the cold spray hit him, as you'd expect,
but then seemed calmer.  I didn't want to jerk him off
again, so I used the olive oil to lube his hole, then,
very, very gently, as Grant had taught me, I stretched
Matt's hole using first one, then two, then three
fingers.

"Keep still, boy!", I commanded him.  I stuck the
little tracker cylinder, with its vicious barbed hooks
still bound in sticky tape, into the end of one of the
candles on the dining table - it was quite warm in the
house, so the wax was relatively pliable and I could
push it in just a little.  Using the candle as a
handle, I gingerly unwound the sticky tape, just
leaving a tiny bit so that the barbs were only held in
position by a thread - an sudden shock and they'd
spring free.

"Stay there, boy!", I snapped, as Matt had showed
signs of restlessness whilst I'd been doing this
delicate operation.  I went into the kitchen and got
the emergency flashlight, then I again pushed his ass
cheeks apart, and once more stretched him so that my
three fingers were leaving a sizeable entrance into
his ass.  I had to hold the torch in my mouth so that
I could look up his hole - all the red, pulsating
flesh up there was, shall we say, "interesting"!
Then, with my other hand, I ever so carefully pushed
the candle holding the cylinder through the hole in my
fingers, and guided it towards what looked like a safe
place in Matt's inside.

Once I was satisfied that I'd got it as right as I
could, and the cylinder was so far in it wouldn't
interfere with a dick, I pushed the end of the candle
hard, making the cylinder collide with Matt's insides.
 At once the tiny bit of sticky tape gave way, and the
barbed ends of the cylinder snapped closed, anchoring
it to Matt.

He didn't feel a thing, of course, as there's no nerve
endings up there to speak of - all the sensation you
get when you're being fucked is mostly from your hole,
isn't it?

I had to hold his hole open for a few moments so I
could peer up using the torch to make sure all was
well - there was some blood, from the barbs, but it
seemed to be under control, so I eased my fingers out,
and gave the whole area another spray of the
analgesic.

"Right, Matt, on your feet!  I think it's going to
hold inside you, and I'll just have to watch you
crapping for the next few days to make sure it isn't
dislodged and comes out in your shit.  Don't let me
see you shitting without me being there, or else I
will take the whip to you, understand?"

Matt nodded, although I could see he was unhappy at
the concept of me watching him crap.

Matt's clothes were scattered around the living room,
and I now went and pulled on his shorts - it didn't
feel all that odd, as I'd been wearing shorts at
Grant's.  But when I went to put on his socks and
trainers, it felt distinctly strange - I hadn't worn
anything on my feet since enslavement, and having them
confined in trainers was a great restriction.
Fortunately Matt and I were the same size, and
everything fitted, and the only other thing to do was
to put a shirt on - I couldn't have people reading my
tattooed back, could I?  Having my pecs, back and
belly covered was almost hateful - if the weather is
mild, everyone would rather go around bare chested,
wouldn't they?  But there was some compensation - I
got the delicious heady odour of Matt's pits as I
donned his shirt, and I knew that the body that had
produced this man scent was now completely under my
control.  I was so used to being naked that I almost
forgot to go back upstairs and throw a few more pairs
of socks, another pair of shorts, and two or three Ts
and polos into the bag with the 16K.

I came back, and said "Right, Matt - off to our new
life.  Come on, off to your truck - where are the
keys?"

As I opened the front door, Matt cowered back.
Because of the parking restrictions in the port area
the truck is always parked about six minutes walk
away, and even this late in the season, and this late
at night, there are always tourists around taking the
night air.  I sensed that Matt was embarrassed about
exposing himself to them.

"Now, don't be a stupid slave!"  I told him.  "Those
free men and women out there have all seen a slave's
dick and balls before.  And now you're decently shaved
and tidied up, you've got nothing to be embarrassed
about.  It would be different if you were a real man,
exposing yourself to them, but everyone expects big
buck male slaves to be naked.  You had me work naked,
if you remember, so you know it's perfectly all right:
 I was wearing shorts to hide my nakedness, but you
made me get rid of them to please the doctor.  So
stop wasting time, and follow me!"

He just stood there, and didn't do as I'd said.  So  I
reached out and took hold of his dick.  He was
flaccid, and it wasn't particularly easy to grip, so I
started to stroke and tease him, running my finger
over his piss slit and the sensitive area immediately
underneath where the flange joins the head tissue:  he
soon became erect, and I then had a very convenient
handle to pull him along with - he couldn't resist, as
when you're cuffed, someone pulling you by the dick
can be very persuasive.

I knew Matt hated being towed along behind me like
that.  And I didn't much like it, either.  Even though
the temperature was still in the fifties, it felt very
cool and I heard several of the evening strollers say
things like "Oh, look at that poor slave - his
master's making him come out this evening naked, and
he seems to be shivering.  It really is too bad - some
masters just don't treat slaves properly.  I wonder
how he would like it, if he was made to go naked in
this weather?"   I didn't respond to any of this, of
course, and those folks will probably never know how
much I could have told them about being naked, not
just in the air, but in the cold sea!

We got to the truck, and I told Matt that he was going
to lie in the back.  I used some of the chain that was
always lying around to couple his collar ring to the
truck body, then pulled an old piece of tarp over him
to give him some protection from the night air.  Then
we were off, away, out of the town, heading for
freedom for me, and servitude for Matt.

I was very careful to drive within the law, but after
couple of hours, when it was almost midnight, I saw
lights flashing up ahead.  There was no way to turn
off, so I just had to stick with it and brazen it out.


There was a Highway Patrol car and two cops manning a
road block, and I stopped.

"Hey, bud, get out!", the bigger, older, cop snapped.
"Where have you come from?  The coast?"

"Yes, officer..."

"Hey, Greg", he said to the younger cop "This guy
matches the description of that escaped slave
perfectly.   Same age, same height... And a big
muscled guy."

"Hey, buddy... We've got reports of an escaped slave
who roughed up an important doctor before fleeing.
We're stopping all the traffic - and you match the
description of the man we want."

"No, officer, you've got it wrong!  I'm not  slave -
I'm a free man, just like you..."

"Greg - bring over the scanner.  We'll soon settle
this!"

The young cop went to the patrol car and came back
with a loop of wire that ran into a little control
box.

"Lean against the car, and spread them!", the older
cop snapped, and then did a quick "patting" search of
my clothes.  "OK, Greg, scan him - there's no metal
here stopping the signal."

The younger cop ran the loop down my body, and said
"No, Sarge, no signal.  Not a dickybird."

The older cop looked  bit disappointed, and rather
regretfully said to me "Sorry, sir.  But I'm sure you
realise we can't be too careful when there's a lave
doing a runner - especially when he's attacked a free
man.  Young Greg and I were hoping to catch him and
really show him what punishment's all about, before
the courts get hold of him - they'll just order his
execution, but we want him to know that you can't go
around attacking real men!  Anyway, sorry again - call
 911 if you see any suspicious people along the route
- men trying to hitch, that sort of thing."

"Yes, officer, I will.  And no problem - we do need to
keep those slaves under control."

I was about to get in, when there was a banging from
the back of the truck.  The two officers went over
with their torches, pulled back the tarp, and saw Matt
there.

"What's this, sir?"

"Just a new slave I bought yesterday.  He' s not
broken or anything."

"He's trying to say something", the younger officer,
Greg, reported.  It sounds like he's trying to tell us
he's a free man...."

"No, he's a slave", I told him.  "Look, he's cuffed,
gagged, his pubes are trimmed and his balls have been
shaved  - they do that at the sales, you know."

"Sorry, sir, but we need to check", the sergeant said.
 "There have been some cases of free men being
kidnapped and sold into slavery in this area.  Greg -
bring the scanner."

They ran the scanner over Matt, and, of course, it
reported the presence of the tracker chip.

"Again, sorry to have troubled you, sir.  But it's
clear he's a slave, as the transponder was activated
by our scanner.  We'll let you get on your way."

As they'd been looking at Matt I couldn't help
noticing that the sergeant's tight blue pants had
shown a decided bulge at the front.

"This slave almost got me into a lot of trouble,
sergeant, pretending he was still free.  I think he
needs disciplining.  Is it possible that you and your
officer might help me...?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but State law prohibits officers on
duty from any form of sexual intercourse - the law's a
jackass, I know, as it was brought in when it was
thought that male officers might harass female
officers.  But we're not even allowed to fondle or
chastise slaves any more.  I'm sorry, sir, but it's
more than my job's worth - it's instant dismissal from
the Patrol."

We said our goodnights then, and I drove off.  The
sweat was pouring off me - if they'd asked to see the
papers for Matt, I'd have been done for.  Perhaps
those tracker chips had their uses after all.

I was tired after another fifty miles, and pulled into
a rest area.  I thought about having a small sleep,
but  I was hungry and decided to have a snack first.
I told Matt to follow me, and I noticed that he was
already taking on some of the aspects of a slave,
following his encounter with the cops, as he did so
without further argument and I did not need to use his
dick to lead him by.  When we got to the entrance to
the restaurant, there was one of the slave detection
barriers I'd fallen foul of when Matt first owned me,
and a big sign that said "Owners :  Slaves are not
permitted beyond this point.  Leave them at the door.
Shackling  facilities are provided."

I noticed a little group of people who I took to be
slaves waiting just by the door - they were mostly
barefooted, and wore the simple slave tunics and
shorts of regular domestic slaves.  I wondered what to
do about Matt - I could hardly just leave him, as he
might run off - someone might believe his story, I
suppose.  But then I noticed a number of chains and
hooks hanging there, and another sign said "These
facilities are provided for the restraint of violent
or dangerous slaves.  The management accepts no
responsibility for their use, which is entirely at the
owner's risk."

I took one of the chains and put it through the
restraint ring in Matt's collar.  I could see that he
was itching to be able to try to lessen his exposure,
and was moving around to face the wall.  "Not so fast,
Matt!", I whispered, "I don't want to deprive the
customers of the sight of your body!  Stand back
against the wall, and press yourself to it!"

When Matt had moved, I looped the restraint chain
several times around his neck, before finally closing
the clip.  He was then unable to turn around, and had
to stand facing all the customers arriving and
leaving.  And, with this cuffed wrists, he was of
course totally unable to even attempt to hide the
nakedness of his newly-trimmed pubes and his
freshly-shaved balls.

The management had thoughtfully provided a number of
small signs, and I now took one of these and hung it
around Matt's neck.  "Dangerous Slave.  Do Not
Approach", it said, and I guessed that would keep
people far enough away that Matt could not cause
trouble for me.

The burger and fries I had were fantastic!  Matt had
always kept me short of food as he liked me to look
"lean and mean", and when he fed me scraps of his own
food it was always "healthy".  Slave chow is, as you
know, well balanced, and so I hadn't had a big load of
fat and grease for so long - I almost gorged on the
fries, covered in salt, as this was considered bad for
slaves and I rarely got it, either.

When I got back outside a small crowd had gathered and
they were watching Matt - I suppose in that part of
the country nudity wasn't all that usual for slaves.
Or perhaps it was, but such a magnificent specimen of
manhood was not.  Poor Matt looked so embarrassed-
he'd gone a bright red, as he listened to the comments
that the crowd were making.  I distinctly heard on guy
say "Well, if he's that dangerous, I'd have him nutted
if I was his master."  I wondered if Matt had heard
that, and realised I could have it done to him!

I led him away then, towards our truck.  But as we got
there, I saw the two cops standing next to it.  My
heart went into my mouth, as I thought they must have
done some checking up on the chip now inside Matt.  I
wanted to run, but of course that would have been a
clear sign of guilt, and so I knew I needed to bluff
it out.

"Good evening again, officers",

"Sir, good evening to you.  We followed you from the
highway, as it's now our rest period.  When we're on
our rest period, we're not officially on duty...."

"Ah.... So that offer I made to you?"

"Yes, sir", the sergeant said with a twinkle in his
eye.  "Highway Patrol officers are always willing to
try to help a master who's having problems with a
slave.  Although it's never part of our duties, us
free men need to stick together, don't they?"

"Well, thank you, sergeant!  That's a most generous
offer.  Will both of you be using the slave's ass?"

"No, sir, just me", the sergeant said.

Their cruiser was parked in the shadows at the edge of
the rest area, and  Matt and I followed the two men
over there.  Once we arrived, the sergeant went into
full cop mode.

"Right, slave - bend over the hood of the cruiser, and
spread them!"

Matt bent over, but was slow to spread his legs wide.
The sergeant kicked viciously at Matt's ankles with
his leather boots, and snapped "I said spread them,
boy!"

Matt had given a stifled scream as the cop's heavy
boots hit his naked legs, but he got the message and
now spread his legs. The sergeant undid his leather
belt and pushed down his tight blue pants.  I was
surprised to see he wore nothing underneath, but then,
perhaps he didn't want anything spoiling the tight
line of his pants.

"Do you have lube, sir?  We're not allowed to have it
in the cruiser."

"No, sergeant.  But feel free to jerk the slave off
and use that."

The sergeant reached down between Matt's spread legs,
and started to vigorously masturbate him.  I could see
Matt shifting uneasily as this was done - perhaps it
was the first time he'd ever been forcibly masturbated
by another man.  Anyway, whether it was the sergeant's
rough way, or whether Matt found it such a turn on, I
could see all of Matt's leg muscles suddenly tense,
and I knew he must have shot.  The sergeant fiddled
around, and I was glad he was at least giving Matt a
cursory lube, as the poor guy was still dreadfully
sore and pained by my rape earlier.

It was actually quite erotic  to see the sergeant fuck
Matt - the man's pants bunched on top of his leather
boots, his shirt barely covering his naked as, as he
ploughed in and out of Matt.  Matt had almost
struggled at first, but must have realise there was no
escape, and had really quietened down as the fucking
went on - he barely moved his legs at all.  It gave me
a particular satisfaction to know that Matt knew he
was being fucked by an officer of the law, someone who
would rescue him if only Matt had been able to speak!

I turned to the young trooper, and said "Greg, isn't
it?  Do you always get to go after the sergeant?  It's
always 'sloppy seconds' for you, is it?"

"Yes, sir, Greg's the name.  But no.... No."

"No, what? Greg?"

"No, I don't always get to go after the sergeant.  In
fact I never go after him.  I don't like fucking, you
see."

I could see why the poor guy was embarrassed -
admitting to another man that he didn't like fucking!

"Quite the reverse, actually", he went on  "I'm really
losing out tonight, as once the sergeant has fucked
your slave, he won't touch me."

"You mean the sergeant fucks you every night?"

"Yes, sir.  That's what partners in the Highway Patrol
do.  We usually manage to get assigned to a guy who is
compatible - the sergeant is a horny fucker, as you
can see, and I'm really passive - I love being
partnered with the sergeant as he's so good for me."

"So are you ready to take a dick tonight, now?"

Greg was looking at me, and I rubbed my hand
suggestively over the front of my shorts, so that my
dick, which had sprung an erection, was clearly
outlined to him.

"Are you man enough to take this, Greg?"

"YES, sir!"

It seemed wrong to disturb the sergeant and Matt, so I
took Greg back to my truck, opened the tailgate, and
asked him to lie there with his feet on the ground.
It was the first time I'd ever stood behind a guy,
reached around and under him, and undone his belt and
pants, then pulled them down.  He had a nice ass - he
was only about 22, and was still muscular and firm.

"Now, Greg, do I use the same lube as your sergeant
used with my slave?"

"Oh yes, please, sir!  Wank me, sir.  Put your big
powerful hands around my dick and jerk me off..."

So I did.  It's a strange sensation, isn't it, doing
it 'the wrong way around' when you're reaching under a
guy to get at his dick?  But it added a certain
excitement to the process, and he was very quick to
cum.  I massaged his hole thoroughly, and fucked him
quite gently - even though I felt my sexual urge
rising as I thrust into him and had him under my
control, something told me I'd better restrain myself
this time: they might get suspicious, knowing that the
doctor had been used violently.

It wasn't all that much fun as a fuck, therefore - I
did a good, workmanlike job, and I know Greg was
thrilled to have such as stud as me fucking him.  But
I didn't get as much satisfaction as I deserved, as I
wasn't really able to plough him very hard.

Both the sergeant and Greg had big grins on their
faces as they stood there.  The sergeant got a bottle
of water from in the cruiser and splashed it on his
dick to clean himself.  He offered it to me, and I
gestured to Greg - the trooper got my meaning and
knelt in front of me, poured water over my dick, then
gently massaged it clean and wiped it dry with his
handkerchief.  The sight of this guy on his knees
cleaning my dick in some measure compensated for my
earlier disappointment, especially as he had to do
this humiliating thing with his sergeant watching.

"You've got the proper service tonight, sir", the
sergeant told me.  "Young Greg usually leaves me to
clean myself up!  You must have done a good job."

I just grinned, wished the two men goodnight, and
snapped a command to Matt to follow me.

I noticed that he was having some difficulty in
keeping up with my strides, and I asked him if he was
in trouble with his ass.  He nodded vigorously, and,
as a caring owner, back at the truck I had him bend
over and spread his legs whilst I sprayed a bit more
of Bill's analgesic on him.

"Better?"

Matt nodded.

"Right then, get in so I can chain you down."

Matt looked puzzled, and started moving his body from
side to side.  I gradually came to understand that he
was hungry, and wanted to be fed.

I reached down and pinched at the flesh on the side of
his hips, then took a little fold of the skin on his
belly in my fingers.  "No, Matt - I think you've been
getting a bit soft!  Too much food, and not enough
exercise since you bought me.  I like the 'lean and
mean' look in a man, too, you know.  So for the next
few days I'm going to starve you a bit, then when
we've found a place, I'll get you started on some real
hard exercise.  I want that belly ridged with muscle,
and absolutely no sign of fat at all around your
middle!  Now, get in..."   I knew that having another
man comment adversely on his body tone must be
humiliating - no man likes his body criticised, does
he?

Once it began to get light I got a lot of trucks
blowing their horns at me - when I next stopped, I saw
it was because the tarp had blown off Matt and he was
lying there, stark naked on his back, fully exposed
for all the truckers to see.

As I let him get free, I complimented him. "You know,
Matt, for an older guy, you've still got a great body.
 All those truckers who could look down at you
certainly appreciated it.  I wonder if any of them
might be interested in using your ass, if I stopped at
a truck stop?"

Matt shook his head violently, and I said, to reassure
him, "Only joking!  Some of those truckers are really
big guys, and I think that formerly virgin ass of
yours has had enough use for one day!"

I let him ride up front with me after that - the sun
was hot and strong, and I didn't want Matt's still
white pubes to get sunburned - as I said, I am a
considerate owner!

End Of Part 18