Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2003 23:31:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Harbour Master, Part 21

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 21

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

I guess we'd have gone on wandering aimlessly from one
motel to another for a few more weeks, waiting for the
fuss to really die down, until one day the "secret"
cell that I'd bought, and whose number was known only
to Bill, rang.

I was expecting to hear Bill, of course, and felt that
feeling of sick apprehension you get when you suspect
there's going to be bad news - Bill had promised not
to ring that number unless it was a real emergency.
But it wasn't Bill - it was a voice I didn't recognise
at all.

"Is that Steve?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's 'Slaves For  You', sir, Flagstaff branch.  I've
been asked to contact you about a young male slave who
is being offered for sale in three days time."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"A young male turned himself in to us two days ago
under the new Government voluntary enslavement scheme.
 Normally, the 250K goes to the relatives, but he
instructed us to call you and say that the money's
waiting here - you only have to produce the cell phone
as proof of identity.  Very odd!  But then boys do get
these mad ideas when they submit themselves."

"What voluntary programme, what 250K?"

"Haven't you heard, sir?  In order to try and control
slave prices because of the extreme scarcity of new
criminals, and to help combat unemployment generally,
the government pays a bounty of 250K to anyone who
voluntarily commits himself to slavery - 150K for
women, as they are less in demand.   Quite a lot of
men are turning themselves in, and giving their
families the benefit of the money - all you have to do
is turn up at a slave dealer authorised to participate
in the programme, give proof of your age, as we of
course don't take men less than 16, and there's an
upper limit, too, as slaves older than 45 are not much
in demand, and we send the funds to your designated
beneficiary - I almost said "family" again, but of
course on signing the papers, you're a slave, and all
family ties are automatically broken."

"This slave turned up with his papers, and wanted to
sign", he went on, "But he asked us to carry out these
wishes in regard to the 250K.  As a slave, we have no
need to do this for him as agreements with slaves
aren't worth the paper they're not written on, to use
an old joke.  But 'Slaves For You' has a reputation
for honesty and fair dealing, so if you could come
along and present your cell phone, we'll release the
funds to you."

"And the slave.... "

"Well, he'll be in the next auction in three days
time.  And I think he'll get a good price - he's got a
nice body, big dick, and he's really quite handsome.
Once he's filled  out with some harder exercise and
reached full maturity, he'll make a magnificent fuck
toy for some lucky owner.  I expect one of the farms
will buy him, rear him to maturity and exercise him
properly, then sell him at a very handsome profit."

"And you say he was young... 16, I suppose, answers to
the name of Bill?"

"Sir, I'm not allowed to disclose that information
under the State's privacy laws.  But you would be
right in assuming he was at the very bottom end of the
age eligibility.  As for the name - well, that's now
irrelevant, as he merely has a number, until his new
owner selects a name for him."

"Loo, there's been a ghastly mistake - can't we back
this out.... Take back the 250K..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the legislation is very clear.
As for involuntary enslavement, it must be for the
entire life of the slave.  The law allows no weakening
of the slave ethos - a slave must know he's a slave
for life once he's given up his free status.  I'm
unable to release the slave, and he will be auctioned
in three days.  Can you indicate, sir, when we might
expect you to collect the 250K?"

"I'm on my way!"

I told Matt what had happened, and he was even more
horrified than me.

"Boss, please phone my wife... She's a lawyer... She
can do something."

"No, Matt, it won't work.  I know the slavery laws, as
I researched them when I was about to be committed.
There have been absolutely no reversals of slave
status once a man has been committed!  The Supreme
Court has quashed every  attempt to do so, as it
regards slavery as one of the new absolutes in our
society.  If Bill is going to be saved, it's got to be
us that does it!"

We checked out rapidly, and fortunately Flagstaff was
only a day's drive for us - I even let Matt take the
wheel, so that we didn't need to stop at all on the
way.

It was night when we arrived, and the dealers was
closed!  The security guard absolutely refused to let
us in, but told us that "Viewings would start again at
ten tomorrow".  We checked into a motel, but neither
of us slept - there was nothing we could do to make
sleep come, and we clung together in an agony of
worry.

The next morning we had a potential problem - I
couldn't take Matt to the slave dealers, but he really
wanted to go, and I understood.  So I allowed him to
get dressed in a spare T and shorts, and we stood
there, so alike, almost like cousins.  "Now listen,
Matt, no funny business!  If you see a slave detection
barrier, you MUST turn back as there are probably all
sorts of unpleasant things they can do - don't try to
tell them the 'real' truth, as I don't think slave
dealers care - they'd just see an opportunity to sell
you, as you've got a tracker chip, AND me as an
escaped slave.  If we're going to save Bill, we've got
to work together on this one, agreed?"

I could tell Matt was sincere, and grateful to me, as
he agreed, and we set out.

We were the first through the doors at ten that
morning, and one of the dealer staff greeted us.  I
explained about the phone call, and we were taken into
a small office, where a man arrived wearing neat
business casuals, with a badge saying "Slaves For you
- Gunther"

"Good morning, gentlemen.  You're here with the cell
phone, I understand...."

"Yes..."

"Call me Gunther, sir.  We like to do business in a
friendly way here at 'Slaves For you'."

"Well, Gunther, we don't want the money... Just give
us the slave back, and we'll be on our way."

"I'm afraid that really is impossible, as I indicated
to you on the phone.  Once the papers have been signed
and filed with the district slave court, there's
absolutely no going back."

"But I want my son back....", Matt almost shouted.

"Sir, I'm sorry.  I didn't make the laws, but we have
to uphold them here.  The only way you can get your
son back is to buy the slave in the auction - and even
then, technically, he's no longer your son.  You no
longer have a son in law, sir - your will, all that
sort of thing, is no longer valid."

I thought Matt was going to hit the man, but he was
only doing his job, after all.

"Gunther, how much do you think a slave like the one
we're talking about might fetch?"

"Well, sir, it is an auction.  It depends on how many
of the city dealers are here looking for new stock,
and whether the rearing farms are in the market...
But, on average, healthy, handsome, well-built,
well-hung, intelligent young guys fetch anything from
200K to 300K."

"The rearing farms....", Matt snapped.

"Yes, sir.  There's not all that much call for very
young slaves, except from much older men looking for a
'toy'.  But there are specialist dealers - we call
them rearing farms - who buy up the youngest stock
then keep them until they're in their early twenties.
A man's musculature really only fills out in the very
late teens, and the discerning buyer increasingly
wants a slave with big biceps, strong shoulders, six
pack stomach, a thick muscled neck.... They're called
'farms' as they tend to be out in places like this:
good fresh air, lots of open space to exercise in.
It's quite like putting the slaves into the Marines,
as they do continuous exercise.  Only the training is
different, of course - as well as physically preparing
the body, the slaves are taught obedience, and how to
really please their owners.  Most of the slaves in
these places really enjoy it after the first week or
so - the healthy life, the exercise - they are allowed
to play football and stuff, as well as the workout
sessions, the comradeship - they get to know their
fellows really well in the dorms... All that sort of
stuff.  It can really build a young guy's character to
make him give up TV and junk food and really focus on
developing his body, and his personality.  And, of
course, they get the very best education in sex that
there is - most of the guards and instructors on the
farms are really expert lovers, and teach these men
all they could wish for. Most of the slaves never want
to leave the farms - we go along to collect stock for
the auctions, and there are many tearful scenes as the
young twenty-something studs are selected out and
prepared for shipping."

"So, Gunther", I said "We have to compete with the
buyers from these places.  But we only have the
250K...."

"Well, sir, you might be lucky... But bear in mind
that you have to pay us the four percent buyer's
premium, like at any auction, and so you really only
have 240K to spend.  But shall we at least clear up
the question of the money we owe you??"

Gunther pressed buttons on the phone on the desk, and
the cell phone in my pocket rang.
He reached into a drawer, got out a folder with
numbers in big letters on the front, and took out a
cheque from inside.

"Here we are, the cheque as the voluntary enslavement
premium for 073823506. In what name shall we make it
out?"

"Is that my son....", Bill asked in despair.

"Sir, he is no longer your son, as I explained.  He
may have been your son, but we don't know:  once his
birth certificate and so on has been checked and
authenticated by the district slave court it's all
destroyed, and he's now only known by his slave
identification number, or SID.  His new owner can
assign him a name, of course.  You are of course most
welcome to go and inspect the stock, and one of our
handlers will pull him out for you if you quote this
SID."

I'd thought of another problem, though.  "Gunther...
This cheque.... Well, we don't want to bank it...."

"Quite, sir.  A lot of beneficiaries are like that,
especially since the IRS ruled that the premium is to
be considered to be part of the man's 'estate' and is
thus being inherited by the beneficiaries.  They don't
like paying the 10% inheritance tax - more in some
states, I believe."

"We can make arrangements to pay in cash, if you wish.
 Although it is a large sum, and you will find
problems in depositing it in banks and so on with the
anti-terrorist laws.... Still, two men like you
shouldn't be too bothered by robbers:  it's the little
old ladies I worry about, who go out with all that
money in their purses!"

"Yes, we'd like cash, please.  But can we go and see
the stock now?"

There were no slave barriers inside the offices, and
we went through a display area where a number of young
studs were posing on small plinths - their bodies
gleamed under the spotlights, and I suspected they
must be lightly oiled to glow like that.  They were
keen to exhibit themselves, and to the limits of their
ability ( they were chained by one foot to the
ground), they all went through a series of poses as we
went past.  I guess they would have called to us, but
it seemed to be the practice of Slaves For You to show
off this stock gagged with the same sort of standard
ball gag that was used on me, and I'd used on Matt.
They were good looking men, though, and several of
them managed to sport erections as we went past, as if
to entice us to stop and touch.

Gunther commented "These are some of the stock from
the farms that I was telling you about - they're
almost unbelievable, aren't they?  That's what a few
years of good living and tough physical training can
do for the very young slaves - you wouldn't believe,
would you, that some of these might have been unfit,
or overweight?  But I think you'll agree that buying a
man in his prime like this is certainly very appealing
- we'll get very high prices for them tomorrow."

"Why are they so eager to display themselves to us?"
Matt asked .  I knew the answer, of course, from my
own time at a dealers.

Gunther told him, though "Well, sir, they of course
want to be sold to kind, caring, considerate masters.
Otherwise, in spite of all the training and attention
that's been lavished on them, after a certain time we
have to dump them into the market just as miners, or
field hands, or factory workers, or whatever.  They
know that the life as a cherished possession of a
caring master is likely to be so much better than the
life of a 'blue collar' slave that they want to make
the best impression on you that they can. Miners, you
know, never come to the surface - they spend all their
time crawling around miles below.  Since the
introduction of slavery the mine owners have saved a
fortune on housing costs and so on - down deep, the
temperature's always the same, so the miners can work
naked, and there's no energy expended on the need for
lifts up and down... and absolutely no possibility of
escape so very little has to be spend on guards.  Once
you go down the mine, you're there for ever, and they
all want to escape that.  It's a bit like that in the
new factories, too - you're chained to a machine that
you feed during your shift, then another slave takes
over and you sleep on a pad next to the machine, the
pad your fellow has just vacated.  Twelve hours a day,
seven days a week.  So you see they'd much rather be
bought by an individual master, and, if I may say so,
sir, they're particularly attracted to you gentlemen
as potential owners as you yourselves are in such
obviously good condition...."

By this time we'd reached a big door that  said
"General Display Area", and Gunther introduced us to
one of the showroom assistants, whose name tag told us
he was called Joe.

"I'll leave you in the capable hands of Joe, sirs, as
he's one of our trainers who knows the general stock.
Just call by at the office on your way out, and the
cash will be waiting for you."

Daniel had an easy, open smile.  He was a good looking
guy, about my age, in neat khaki shorts and a dark
green polo saying "Slaves For You."  In a way I was
glad to see that he hadn't followed the fashion for
long baggy shorts, as the legs on his khakis were cut
very high, and therefore I could admire his muscular
thighs and curly blond hair.  Suddenly I realised I
was appraising a man - I used to look at women and
imagine what they'd be like in bed, but now I was
looking at this fit, tanned, muscular guy of my own
age and considering the possibilities!  How I'd
changed.

"Sirs, what kind of slave are you interested in?  We
keep our stock separated by age - 16 to 21, 22 to 28,
29 to 39, and over 40.  Within each age category -
except the youngest - we break the slaves down into
'show' slaves, that you'd buy to display to friends
and for personal use, 'general domestics' fit for work
around the house, and of course for occasional use as
sex toys, and 'workers' - broadly, everything else.
The only exception is the 16 to 21 group, where we
don't classify by job type as they all need training
to fit them for their role"

"...and men and women?", I asked.

"No, sir, we don't differentiate. Even though we don't
need to, as they're slaves, we obey the anti
discrimination laws so male and female slaves are all
assigned into those categories and are kept together,
and displayed together. Again, the only exception is
the 16-21 year olds - there are usually no females in
that category."

I was interested.  "Why not?"

"Oh, you know, girls at that age are much less
hot-headed than guys, much less likely to get into
trouble.  And they're not as macho as those guys who
do the voluntary enslavement thing. Pity, really -  on
the staff here we can use any of the stock for our own
pleasure, and I'd like a constant flow of young 19
year old girls through my quarters..."

I realised I was rapidly losing interest in Joe!

"The 16 to 21 year olds!", Mat told him, rather
impatiently.  He wasn't interested in these aspects of
slavery, as I was.

"Certainly, sir, right this way.  They're all at their
morning exercise..."

He led us to a balcony that looked down onto a kind of
sports hall.  Around 2o young guys were running up and
down, under instruction from a big, tough-looking guy
aged about 35, I would guess.  He was shouting orders,
and if any of the young guys flagged or disobeyed, he
hit out at them with a long cane, and they all tried
to avoid this.  All the young guys were totally naked,
as we might have expected, but they all had erections
- yes, every single one.  It looked kind of strange to
see all these men with huge hard-ons running around -
you don't usually run when erect, and the penis isn't
really designed for it, I suppose, and it really waves
around a lot.  The instructor was just wearing a
G-string - his muscled body was almost totally
visible, and the tiny white silk pouch of the G hardly
served to conceal him at all.

"That's our instructor", Joe was saying.  "He's a
slave, but we keep him here as he's too useful to
sell.  Used to be in the Marines - was a drill
sergeant - but he hit an officer one day and the
military court of course sentenced him to enslavement.
 We let him wear that G so the other slaves know that
he's in charge - I think it makes him look kind of
sexy, don't you agree..."

"Bill's not here!", Matt cried.  "Where's my son,
where's the lad who committed himself voluntarily two
days ago..."

"Do you have his SID, sir?"

"SID....?"

"Yes, sir, Slave Identification Number.  All new
slaves get one now, automatically, just like when a
car is registered.  Didn't Gunther tell you...?"

I cut in and told Joe the number, and he leaned out
and called over the balcony to the instructor "Fetch
073823506 to a private viewing room."

We went down, and waited.  The room was bare, except
for a sort of pedestal about a metre high, a
leather-topped table, and two chairs, which Joe
indicated we should sit in.

The drill instructor came in, pulling a lad behind him
by the guy's erect dick.  I thought at first they'd
made a mistake, and brought the wrong man, until I saw
that it was indeed Bill!

The instructor pushed him and made him stand on the
plinth, and I saw that the room lights were designed
to shine down and illuminate his body.

"Bill...", Matt cried, and I had to put an arm out to
restrain him and stop him from going and hugging Bill.
 The drill instructor had stepped in front of Bill,
too, and Joe said "I'm sorry, sir, but we must insist
on only professional inspections of the stock.  You
may of course feel any of the muscles, the dick, the
balls... and test the ass hole....  But we must ask
you to keep a proper sense of decorum.  No emotion and
no displays of affection are permitted."

As I looked at Bill I saw why we hadn't been able to
pick  him out from the crowd.  His mid-length hair had
gone, and he now had the standard quarter inch "slave
cut" - it dramatically altered his looks, and he'd
gone from being an intelligent-looking laughing
teenager to appearing to be some sort of young thug!
A big tattoo on his left shoulder said "Slave
0730823506", and there was a similar tattoo on his
right ass, we saw, as the plinth slowly rotated.  But
probably the biggest change of all was that his erect
dick clearly no longer had a 'skin.

"This is the slave you were interested in, sirs.  At
the youngest end of the spectrum, so ripe for
training.  He's had all the usual medical inspections
and injections, so your maintenance bill should be low
for the next year.  He's fully fertile, and capable of
studding if you wish to breed from him. He's been
fitted with the standard tracker chip, and, in
accordance with the new regulations governing all new
slaves, you'll see he has the necessary tattoos on his
shoulder and ass bearing his SIN - it's so much easier
to identify slaves, isn't it, when this uniform
tagging really gets going?

"But.... But he's circumcised!",  Matt blurted out.

"Oh, yes, sir.  We found that over 95% of our
customers had young male slaves 'skinned, and they
hated having to wait after the sale for the operation
to be performed - we have such reasonable rates, it's
easier to have it done here than to take the slave to
a local doctor.  And, of course, they can't use the
slave immediately whilst the scars heal.  So now we
just do it as part of the slave's processing, like the
shaving of the balls and tidying of the pubic hair -
it's quick and painless to just 'skin them all - they
hardly notice it:  they're lying on their backs having
their balls shaved, and the doctor just gives them a
quick injection of pain killer and a quick snip of the
knife."

"We leave the pleasure point, though, sir, but if you
purchase this slave and want that removed, we will do
it at no additional charge after the sale.", Joe
continued.  "Personally, I'd just do it to all of them
as it means they can sustain longer without shooting,
but we can't forecast what the slave is going to be
used for, and some masters want the slave to have as
much sensation as possible."

As I looked at Bill, I could see that there were
almost tears in his eyes as he saw me and Matt. Matt
clearly wanted to hug Bill, but knew it wasn't
allowed.  We all stood there in silence. I wondered
how Matt felt about Bill being 'skinned - he'd been
ready enough to do me, and it certainly wasn't "quick
and painless with a shot of anaesthetic" as Joe had
described!

"So do you want to really inspect the slave, sirs?  Or
would you like to see how he reacts to a good  fucking
- the drill instructor here will happily fuck him for
you so you can watch and see how he takes it
emotionally:  some lads are so upset that masters know
they're in for weeks of effort to get them to accept
sex properly, and we have our reputation for fair
dealing to consider.  We don't want to sell slaves
that will result in unhappy buyers, and hence we
introduced this 'try before you buy' facility.  It's
proving very popular."

Actually, I'd have liked to watch the drill instructor
fuck any of the lads!  He was very much my type - oh,
no, I was getting a "type" of man I liked, was I?  He
was older than me, tough looking, fit, muscular but
not obscenely so, big dick, nice thatch of hair on his
chest and a neat treasure trail across a flat,
muscular belly, and from the rear, wide shoulders
tapering in the classic inverted triangle to a flaring
muscular arse mounted on nice long legs.  It would
have been a real pleasure to see those legs and that
ass driving his big dick into another man. And I
suspected that Bill wouldn't mind, as he really liked
being taken. But I knew I couldn't tell Joe that we'd
like to see that, as Matt would almost certainly
explode!  He knew I fucked Bill, of course, but having
a total "stranger" do it as an entertainment for us...
that was probably going too far.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary... We do
know about this lad, you know.  But, tell me, he's
still erect.... And all the other slaves that were
running around were erect, too...."

"Yes, sir.  Every morning we give them a shot of
'Erectaslav' - you may have seen it advertised on TV.
It's some sort of Viagra derivative, specially marked
for owners who like their slaves erect.  One shot in
the morning lasts all day, and the slave has an almost
permanent erection.  We think it makes them look
better as they exercise - a good hard dick rammed out
in front, rather than a load of flaccid dicks flopping
around everywhere.  There are a few problems, of
course - we have to allow them longer piss breaks, as
they have to get it down first, and that can be
difficult.  I think we're going to see more and more
slaves going around permanently erect, it's becoming
quite the fashion.  I think I might even buy shares in
the Erectaslav company"

Matt seemed close to tears, and I thought I needed to
get him out of there before he did something foolish.
I couldn't help thinking, though, that I might stop at
a slave suppliers and buy some Erectaslav - it would
be good to see Matt permanently erect, and would
further teach him the humiliation that a master could
bring to his slave.

"Thanks, Joe - most instructive.  And this slave comes
up for auction tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir.  Have you finished looking at him?"  I
nodded, and Joe continued "Take him back and resume
the Programme, sergeant!", and the instructor reached
up, grabbed Bill's dick and almost pulled him off the
plinth and dragged him out of the door.  Both Matt and
I saw Bill's tattooed ass as they went, and I wondered
how he now felt about the cruel brand he'd done to me-
if the government was happy  with a tattoo, why should
any owner need to resort to branding?

"Are there any other of the  young slaves you're
interested I, sirs, or would you like to look at some
of the older stock?  In the young set I've got someone
who's almost 21 that might interest you - he's got the
thickest dick I've ever seen and he's a real novelty!
And I've got some guys in their mid-twenties who were
taken as a group:  all on a football outing together,
all got drunk together and trashed a hotel room, and
now all slaves together.... "

"No, thanks", I cut in, "Can you just show us out past
Gunther's office, please?"

Gunther had the money ready for us, in bills of 100,
so it wasn't too difficult to carry.

"See you tomorrow, then, for the auction?"

"YES!", Matt said, on the verge of hysteria.  I was
really worried, as I suspected Bill would go for far
more than we could afford to pay, and then what?

I was more friendly.  "Yes, we'll be here.  But, tell
me, we're new in town, and don't know the places to
go.... Matt's tired, and will probably want an early
night.  But I'd surely appreciate knowing where a
young single guy could go for an evening's....
evening's 'entertainment'."

"Well, sir, I don't have time now, but if you phone me
later I'll get you a list...."  Gunther was sounding
interested.

"Well, could I drop by and collect it?  What time do
you close?"

"Six, sir."

"No, I'm Steve.  So if I came past around six oh five,
I might find you in the parking lot, with the
list...."

"Yes, Steve... We always try to PLEASE our
customers...."

We smiled at each other, and I almost had to pull Matt
out of the door.

In the truck he raged at me "You fucker, Steve.
Bill's in deep shit, and all you can think about is
trying to arrange a date with that Gunther.  Sure,
he's a good looking guy, but we need to get Bill out.
Don't go wasting your time sniffing after sex, when
Bill's about to be sold off...."

"Shut the fuck up, Matt!  You almost gave us away in
there!  And remember, you're a fucking slave, MY
fucking slave!  So get respectable in front of your
owner, and drop those shorts! I want your bare ass on
the leather of these seats, to remind you of what you
are."

"Now, I went n, we have a problem.  I'm sure Bill will
fetch much more that we've got at the auction. So we
need to find some other way.  That's why I want to
meet Gunther - he knows the system!  And, of course,
he looks like a good fuck, so it will be fun
interrogating him."

We drove back in silence, and  I insisted that Matt
went through his exercises, as I knew it would help
take his mind off things and stop him brooding.  I
enjoyed working out, too, even though my back did get
one or two strange looks from the other guests - I
suppose tattoos of all kinds were out of fashion for
free men, as they were now being used as markers on
slaves.

Later that afternoon Matt went to dress, and I thought
he thought he was going to accompany me. I had to be
quite harsh in getting him gagged and chained to the
bed, before leaving to meet Gunther.  On my way I
stopped and bought a new pair of Jeans, deliberately
selecting those pale, thin ones and buying two sizes
too small - as I squeezed into them, I could see the
seam down the back pulling into my ass crack and
causing my ass to look really great, and the outline
of my dick and balls were clearly visible up front.  I
didn't buy a belt, as I wanted my body to "flow" out
of the top of the pale blue Jeans as it would
emphasise my flat belly, slim hips, and deeply tanned
skin.  I also think that a single button holding tight
Jeans closed is extremely sexy - another guy thinks
all he has to do is flip it open, and you'll be there
on display for him.

I couldn't decide on a top, but settled for a
sleeveless T, so that my shoulders, pits and biceps
were exposed.  Again, by buying it two sizes too
small, I got it so that it stretched tightly over my
pecs, and it was too short - it couldn't tuck into my
Jeans, and so as I walked along flashes of my body
kept appearing.

The sales assistant was clearly impressed - although I
didn't fancy him at all - and almost freaked out when
I asked him to pack my sweat-soaked shorts and polo
into the bag as I was going to wear the stuff I'd
bought.  He looked as if he wanted to plunge his nose
into the fabric, and suck in the heady scent of my
male odour.

I got stuck in traffic, and got  really worried that
my plan would fail because Gunther would leave, but as
I pulled into the lot by "Slaves For You", there he
was, pacing up and down.  A good sign, I thought -
he'd waited, even though he thought I might "no show",
so he was clearly interested in me.

He did a kind of double take as I climbed out of my
truck and he saw my body, not naked, but erotically
displayed.

"Good evening, sir...."

"Gunther!  Hey, call me Steve, remember?"

"Well, here's the stuff on bars...."

"Are any of them the kind of place where a single guy
could go and.... and expect to meet a buddy for an
evening....?  I hate to drink alone."

"Well, Steve, several of the bars have hostesses,
slaves...."

"No, Gunther, I want to spend an evening with free
men....  Still, I don't suppose you know how lonely a
strange town can be.... You've got all those slaves to
fuck if you need companionship..."

"Sure, Steve.  I can take any of the stock home if I
want.  But , like you, I want to spend time with free
men.  There is the Flagstaff Freedom Club, that
doesn't allow slaves in at all.... But I've just
remembered, it's members only."

"Are you a member, Gunther?"

"Sure, Steve."

"So why don't you let me buy you a drink on your way
home, and you can sign me in?  Then I might meet a
guy, or guys, for an evening's fun..."

Gunther went to get into his car, but I said "No, ride
with me."  Of course, as I drove him off to the club,
he was already starting to be in my power - how was he
going to get back to his car?

The Flagstaff Freedom Club was one of those shed type
places surrounded by a big parking lot, but with a
fancy white-pillared portico.  As we went through the
doors into the lobby two signs caught my eye:  "Owners
are reminded that slaves must be left outside as they
are not permitted on Club premises.  The porter will
be pleased to assist you if your slave needs special
restraints", and "The Flagstaff Freedom Club - Proud
to be preserving liberty for free men."

Inside it was dim, but there was a well-stocked bar
and numbers of small tables and booths.  Gunther went
to one of the tables, and I sat opposite him.  A
waiter - a real one, not a slave - came up and took
our orders - Gunther had a beer, but I stuck to
mineral water.

"The prices are high here", Gunther explained, "As we
use real waiters and have to pay wages. But why don't
you have a beer?"

"No - I'll stick to water.  I've got to keep in shape
- I'm worried about my waist line."

"Surely not!  You're the fittest looking man I've seen
for a long time - even those farm slaves for the
auction, who do nothing else but work out, don't look
as good as you.

I deliberately raised my T up my chest, and stroked my
hand across my belly, letting my little "treasure
trail" of hair slip through my fingers.  Gunther's
eyes were round as saucers as he stared at my actions.


"Look", I said, "I can feel a faint layer of fat!"  I
reached out and took his hand, then ran it over my
skin as I had done a moment ago.  He was definitely
interested!  He shifted in his seat, and I knew he
must be trying to adjust his pants to make himself
more comfortable as his erection grew.

"No, Steve, there's no fat there.... You worry too
much!"

"Yes, I do - I want to keep in good shape.  You know,
you see all those slaves, you must know a thing or two
about bodies.  Would you be able to advise me where I
need to focus my workouts on?  It's difficult looking
in mirrors and so on - I'd really appreciate impartial
advice..."

"Well, yes, I could.  Would you like me to give you a
thorough inspection?  There are a few private rooms
here..."

So we went towards the back, and into a carpeted room
with a private bathroom. The room was empty of
furniture, but as we walked in Gunther smiled and said
"Feel the floor - all sprung - the whole place is like
one giant bed!"

I stood there, then slid my hand down my belly and
fiddled with the top button of my Jeans.  I opened
them, and pushed them down - Gunther was obviously
delighted with my dick, which was of course erect and
stood out at right angles to me as soon as the Jeans
dropped.

"Look", I said, running my hand over my hips and
flanks.  "I'm sure there's the start of fat here..."

He came over, and repeated the feel that I had just
done.

"Hmm... Nice......", he murmured, and then he reached
down and started to peel my T upwards.  His fingers
brushed my nipples on the way, and as soon as the
garment was off, he almost whispered  "Steve, why not
lose the jeans totally, so I can see you properly...."

So I did, bending down, facing away from him so he'd
see my ass muscles in action and catch a glimpse of my
hole, to take off my trainers, then kind of hopping
around from one leg to another to peel the tight Jeans
off my calves.

"Amazing...", Gunther was almost crooning. "But where
did you get that brand? And that tattoo?"

"Oh, a college fraternity caper that went wrong! I'm
stuck with both of them. Now...."

I moved my naked body closer to him, and my erection
stabbed at his thigh.  He couldn't resist taking it
into his hands, and cupping my balls.

"Oh, yes...", I murmured.

Well, it was my bad luck, I suppose, that Gunther was
a top, like me!  I'd kind of planned to fuck him
almost senseless, then question him more closely about
auctions and so on.  But as we kissed and caressed, it
was clear that he wanted to dominate me and be in
charge.  I was much more powerful than he was and
could easily have overridden him and fucked him, but I
let him have his way - I took him up my ass, and it
was just like the old days, when Matt fucked me.  I
didn't enjoy it at all, but it was a small sacrifice
to make for Bill.

We lay together on the floor, covered in sweat, and I
pulled him closer to me.  "Oh, that was fantastic...."

"Yes, I am good at fucking ,even if I say so myself"
(You would be the only one to say that, I thought,
silently!).

"If only,,, If only Matt was as good as that."

"I thought you and the older guy were more than just
buddies - you're proper fuck buddies, then, are you?"

"No, more than that... Look.... Well, I don't tell
everyone this... But lying here like this, after that
incredible sex... I'm ready to talk....".  We both
shuffled and moved slightly, to get our bodies closer
together, as you do.

"Well, I'll always be grateful to Matt.  After my
folks died, he took me in - he's my uncle - and looked
after me.  Paid for college, everything."

"How old were you?"

"Well, that's the problem, about the same age as that
slave he calls his "son", Bill.  The slave's not
really his son - he just thinks he could start again,
looking after another young guy, as he looked after
me.  I'm so grateful to him for all he's done for me,
but...."

"But?"

"...but, well, I'm kind of bored!  I need to meet new
guys, guys more my own age, guys who are really good
with their dicks, guys who can take charge, like you.
Don't get me wrong - Matt's fine in bed, but he is
getting older, and you know what that means.... I
can't leave him all alone... If only I could fix this
slave problem I'd be free to go my own way, free to
make new friends, free to find new fuck buddies....."

"So what's the problem with just buying the slave -
then all the problems go away..."

"Well, most of Matt's money is tied up in a trust.  He
gets income, but no capital.  So we don't have the
cash.  As you said, the 250K won't do.  I guess we'll
just go to the auction to say goodbye to the slave,
then head out of here."

As I was saying this, I'd been gently stroking
Gunther's body, fondling his balls, and playing with
his nips, and he'd been responding in kind.

"Well, there is a way.... Owners can withdraw slaves
from an auction, providing they pay Slaves For You the
buyer's premium based on what the slave might
reasonably have been expected to fetch.... And it is
possible to put a slave through the books at a low
price, with a note indicating that it was damaged
property...."

"So if we said he was worth 300K, and gave Slaves For
You 12K, they'd be happy?  What would the government
expect a "damaged" slave to sell for?"

"Well, let's say 100K.  If you turn up tomorrow and
give me 12K for the company and 100K for the
government, I'll manage the paperwork and you can take
the slave away.  That will still leave you about 140K,
even after you paid the tax....  Now, with that...."

"With that, I could stay on here.... Could I join this
Club, I like it here....  Could you sponsor me....? "

Well, I won't bore you with how both Matt and I
worried ourselves sick all night when I eventually did
get back to the motel.  Matt thought that Gunther
would not go through with the deal,  but I told him
not to worry.  I had discovered another way to control
men - pretend they were fantastic lovers, and let them
fuck me, even though all the time I was screaming
Internally to take charge, and to let me fuck them.

End Of Part 21