Date: Sat, 19 Jul 2003 00:18:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Story: Harbour Master, Part 6

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 6

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

The pain in my lungs was dreadful.  I was freezing
cold, and shivering.  I lay on my back, but my head
was turned to the side and I was puking up lake water.
 As I started to recover a bit more, I saw my owner,
Matt, standing over me.  He, too was as naked as I
was. I was struck by how alike our bodies were - he
could have been my elder brother, almost.

He saw me looking at him, and grinned.  "Close call
there, Steve.  I saw you bobbing up and down, and knew
what you were doing.  But when you didn't come up that
last time, I thought you deserved to pass the test
anyway, so I had to jump in and drag you out.  Fucking
freezing, that water, isn't it?  And it's lucky for
you I'm physically strong, and have passed the life
saving exams, too!"

"So now you owe me your life twice - I saved you from
the organ banks, and you'd be fish food if I hadn't
done the rescue bit.  I don't want puke all over me,
though, so I'll save the kiss of gratitude for later."

If I could have, I'd have laughed.  He'd only had to
save me because of his mad idea of testing me by
making me swim the fucking lake with a lethal load of
chains around me.  But I was at least alive, albeit I
was now shaking so much with the cold that I might die
of exposure at any minute.

He reached down, and hauled me to my feet, then half
carried, half dragged me towards the cab of the
pickup.  I'm a heavy guy, as you know, and I could see
his powerful muscles rippling as he struggled to get
me moving - I was almost past being able to offer any
assistance myself.
Although our naked bodies rubbed together, I didn't
feel any embarrassment - I was just past caring.

Somehow he got me into the cab, and got in beside me
and started the engine and the heater.  Gales of hot
air were soon sweeping over us, and he leaned over and
wrapped his arms around me to help me heat up.

"OK, Steve?"

"I guess so, boss."

"You know, if anyone came up and looked in, they'd
think we were a couple of fags - two naked guys,
clutching each other in the front seat of a pick-up at
what's probably a local beauty spot.  They'd never be
able to tell which of us was the owner, and which of
us was the slave - I'll get that fixed at some point,
of course.  But hold still for a bit...."

He'd got the pliers, and was undoing the wire holding
the chains around me.  They fell to the floor, with a
metallic clank, and it made me feel better somehow.

"Hmm, I wonder if that's symbolic", he mused to
himself. "I'm freeing you of the chains.  You'll be
able to start a new life tomorrow, and I'm ridding you
of the chains binding you to your old life as a free
man."

Fucking hypocrite, I thought,  Who'd put the chains on
in the first place?

We were both warm by now, and my teeth had mostly
stopped chattering.  He got out of the cab, and seemed
to be completely unconcerned as I watched him pull on
his clothes in the beam of the headlights.

"Don't sit there all night, you fucking idle slave!
Get those clothes on I gave you, and let's be on our
way."

I was so tired, that I could barely stagger around as
I pulled on the shorts and the sweat shirt he'd given
me.   We drove off, in silence, back towards the
interstate, and in the warmth of the cab, with the
drone of the engine, I fell into a deep sleep - I was
absolutely exhausted, and my body just had to recover.

I was shaken awake, and blearily looked around.  We
were in the forecourt of one of those cheap motel
chains.

"I'm tired, too - rescuing drowning slaves is hard
work!  We can't make Seatown tonight, so we'll rest
up.  Follow me."

We went into the lobby, and the slut of a girl behind
the desk looked at us.

"Single or double occupancy?"   No "good evening" or
anything, just that.

"Single", my owner said.

"What about the other one?  Do you want a room too?"

I went to reply, but Matt said "No.  He's in my room."

"It's ten dollars extra for double occupancy."

"It's not double occupancy.  This is my slave.  He'll
just sleep on the floor."

"Well, only use one towel."

"Sure - the slave always dries himself on my used
towel. Saves me a fortune on laundry", Matt said
jokingly.  He handed over a credit card, and we went
along to the room.

It was pretty standard - bathroom on the left, and two
big beds.  Matt didn't say anything, but dropped his
clothes onto the floor, and strode into the bathroom
saying "Fucking lake water - it smells vile all over
me.  I need to shower."

I heard a big stream of piss hit the water in the
lavatory, then the shower running, and finally Matt
strode out, drying his hair with a towel and otherwise
totally naked - he didn't seem to mind at all that I
could see his whole body.

"You, too, Steve.  Get in that shower - I don't want
you smelling the place out."

In spite of my tiredness, the hot water worked wonders
and I felt real life creaking back into my exhausted
body.   As I got out and reached for a towel, Matt was
there and handed me the soaking mass he'd used.  "You
heard what the lady said - only one towel!  You're
costing me enough tonight already, and I don't want to
be hit with another ten bucks on my credit card
tomorrow."

I hated the idea of drying myself with a used towel,
especially one that was still warm from where it had
been on Matt's body.  So I just stammered "Thanks,
boss.. Ill just stand here and dry naturally."

He went into a towering rage almost immediately.
"That's the problem with you young slave boys - you
don't listen!  What did I tell you, about obeying
orders as I give them?  If I'd wanted you to stand
there shivering whilst the water drained off you,
that's what I'd have told you to do.  But I told you
to use my towel to dry off, so that's what you'll
fucking well do.  Or is there something wrong with a
towel that I, your owner, has used?"

He looked at me for a moment, and went on, calmer now,
"Yes, that's what it is, isn't it?  You're so fucking
fastidious that you don't like touching things your
master has used.  Well, my slave has to live and work
in close contact with me, so you'd better get used to
it!"

He snatched the towel back off me, and threaded it
between his legs.  Holding one end in front and one
end behind, he kind of see-sawed it backward and
forwards between his legs, as if he was drying his
ass.  I could see his dick and balls bouncing up and
down on the towel as it moved backwards and forwards
,and knew it must be sliding over his hole.  Then he
stopped, pulled the towel free, and handed it to me.

"Now dry your face."

"Please, boss..."

"Dry your face, slave.  I want to see you use this
towel that I've just used to dry my ass being used to
dry your face.  Do you have a problem with that?  It's
only the thought of it, you know - I've just showered,
so my body is squeaky clean.  But even if it wasn't,
so what?  You should be proud to take on the scent of
your master. You're just inhibited by your free man
upbringing, and haven't yet learned to think like a
slave, who's proud to use his master's towel, if
that's what his master wants him to do."

I suppose he was right.  It was a silly taboo, after
all, as it was perfectly clean.  I moved the towel
towards my face, then took the plunge - I thrust my
face deep into its moist centre, and breathed in.
There was a strange muskiness about it, a dilute form
of the scent in his sweat shirt.  I scrubbed at my
face, then, as he watched used it to wipe the moisture
off the rest of me - it was wringing wet by the time
I'd finished, but I was now only damp, rather than
wet.

He went into the bedroom, and I followed him.  He
threw back the covers, and slipped between the sheets.
 I went towards the other bed, but he snapped

"Weren't you listening?  Or are you just fucking
stupid?  One towel, one bed!  Get  in here!"

As he said this, he kind of threw his arm across the
bed, indicating that I was to climb in beside him.  I
was so fucking tired, I no longer cared.  I just
crawled in and pulled the sheet over me, and fell
almost instantly asleep.

I suppose I hadn't slept properly for days - the worry
about the organ banks had kept me awake, as I've told
you.  And after the sheer exhaustion of my race, and
my swim, my body was just past caring.  I didn't
dream, I just slept.  Until I woke with a start, and a
stinging pain on my ass.

I was lying on my belly in the bed, with one leg
straight out, one leg bent at right angles, and my
head cradled on my arms.  The stinging pain in my ass
was because Matt was standing over me, holding his
trainer, which he'd just used to hit me with, hard, on
my exposed ass!

"Rise and shine, tiger.  A new day.  Your first full
day with your new owner!  Get up, boy, and pull those
clothes on - we don't have time for you to shower, and
you're still reasonably sweet from last night."

As he was speaking he was pulling on his own jeans and
T-shirt, taking a cautious sniff at the armpits as he
did so.  I wanted to get up as he'd told me, but was
acutely aware that I'd got a morning hard-on, and it
was only concealed from him by my body on  top of it.

"I've been reading this book", he told me
conversationally, "Called 'The Ownership and
Management Of Slaves.  I've told you I never expected
to be able to afford a slave, especially not a young,
healthy one like you.  But just as some folks like
reading books about cars they can't afford, I was
interested to read a book that's an owners' manual for
slaves.  It says in there that if the master allows
the slave to sleep in his bed, the slave should be
properly appreciative and should ensure he's always
available to service his owner's requirements.  That
means, the book says, that the slave doesn't go to
sleep before his master does, and wakes up before his
master does, so that if his master likes to wake to a
fuck, the slave is ready.  Now yesterday was an
exceptional day, so I'll forgive you this time.  But
don't ever let me catch you asleep when I wake up in
future.  You're a young, fit guy, and you ought to be
able to get by on slightly less sack time than me.
Just remember!"

"What the fuck are you waiting for?", he demanded.  "I
told you to get up and get dressed."

When I still hesitated, he flamed "That's it!  You
must be a fucking stupid pig-ignorant shit!  It
doesn't seem to have any effect on you, whatever I
say.  I wanted to be a considerate owner, but you
don't seem to want to obey.  There seems to be no
other way but to beat it into you, and we'll stop at
the next town and see if they have a public whipping
post - perhaps a few lashes, and real pain, will drive
home the lessons you don't want to learn any other
way."

I got out of bed, and stood there in front of him, my
dick reaching for the sky.  I was blushing furiously.
"Please, boss... I'm sorry, it's just that... It's
just.... Well, this!" - I pointed at my massive
erection.

Matt broke out into a smile.  "Oh, that.  What, are
you embarrassed about the size of it?  Looks pretty
good to me, about the same size as I throw - you've
certainly got nothing to be ashamed of.  All men have
them, you know.  They're perfectly natural.  I'd have
thought a young, virile guy like you would have had
them every few minutes!"

"Yes, boss... But, you know.... I don't like showing
it...."

"Steve, just learn, will you?  Firstly, a whole lot of
guys saw you erect yesterday, and saw you shoot that
magnificent load of cum.  So why be embarrassed now?
And, anyway, you're  a slave.  It's permitted for
slaves to be erect in public, to piss in the streets,
and do all sorts of other things that are illegal for
free men. Your problem is that you still don't think
of yourself as a slave.  And it's particularly stupid
of you to be embarrassed by it in front of me, your
owner.  I own that dick of yours, remember?  So what's
wrong in me seeing it, or even sitting and staring at
it, if that's what turns me on."

"I should have expected it though, I suppose.  'The
Care And Ownership Of Slaves' has a chapter about
acclimatising the newly-enslaved to their new status
quickly, so they can start to work properly for their
new owners as soon as possible.  They have a number of
useful suggestions for emphasising your new status to
you, and I think that as soon as we're back in
Seatown, we'll do one or two of them.  One of them, of
course, is to make the slave appear naked in public as
much as possible in the first few weeks - we could do
that now, I suppose - so you could be walking through
the restaurant naked this morning, with all the nice
ladies and gentlemen looking at you, unless you get
those clothes on quickly  Now, do it!"

I recognised that he was right, and I suppose it is
silly, really.  After all, all men do have erections.
Why should a guy be ashamed of it, and have to conceal
it from other guys?  Just in case he wasn't joking, I
quickly pulled on the tiny shorts and the sweat, and
followed him out of the room.

We went into the restaurant next door, and Matt said
"Two" to the hostess.  As we followed her to the
table, a big siren sounded.  The hostess turned, and
looked at us, then, sensing Matt was in charge, said
"Excuse me, sir, but is that your slave with you?"

"Yes, is there a problem?"

"I'm afraid there is, sir.  His locator chip triggered
our automatic slave alarms, as we don't allow slaves
to eat here in the main restaurant.  Whilst you're
eating he can be fed at the kitchen door -  you can
order what he's to be fed in here, of course, or just
take the standard slave breakfast - most owners choose
that option as, combined with any of our standard menu
choices for you, it's only a dollar fifty."

"Sounds good to me  - the standard for him.  Slave -
go around the back, and when you've chowed, wait by
the pick up.  And make sure you piss and so on when
you've finished - there's a long drive ahead of us."

He didn't even wait to hear me acknowledge him - he
just assumed I'd do it.  Scarlet with embarrassment,
as so many of the other diners had heard these
exchanges, I just retraced my steps through the
tables, and made my way around the back.  There
weren't any slaves where we lived, as I've told you,
as there wasn't a lot of money around, so I'd never
really been aware on these sort of discriminations
between men and slaves before - in  a way, it was more
shocking than almost everything I'd learned so far
about sex with slaves.

I was the only slave to be fed, it seemed, and the
short-order cook shoved a bowl of the same sort of
stuff as I'd been fed at the dealers towards me.
There wasn't anywhere to sit down, or anything, so I
just had to stand there and spoon it down.  I wanted
something to drink, and they just pointed to a tap on
the wall, and I stood there, bent over, trying to
drink from a very awkward height.

When I went into the rest rooms, there was another
example of this discrimination - as well as the
obligatory split into "men" and "women", these rest
rooms had a third category,  "slaves", together with
an official looking notice on the wall: "Owners are
not permitted to allow their slaves use of facilities
for men and women.  The management has provided a
special slave facility, that all slaves must use.
WARNING: Slave detectors in operation - if the alarm
sounds, call a member of management. Owners will be
fined if their slaves are detected in the incorrect
facility."

I was going to go into the men's room, as it seemed to
me I looked OK in the shorts and sweat, but I
remembered the alarm inside the restaurant and thought
they might have installed the same thing here to
detect my locator chip, so I shuffled in to the
"slave" facility instead.

There was absolutely no privacy - just a row of three
holes in the floor along one wall.  I was adept at
using these by now, and I was desperate for a crap as
well as a piss, so I dropped my shorts, stood in front
of one of the holes, and squatted down.  They'd taught
us to reach back and pull our ass cheeks apart, too,
and as I was shaved there as well, I'd found that it
was usually not necessary to "clean up" afterwards -
just as well, as the slave facility wasn't provided
with any toilet tissue.  Just as I was finishing,
another slave came in - a female!  She hardly glanced
at me as I tried desperately to pull up my shorts, and
went and squatted over one of the holes herself - I
could see that her owner clearly didn't let her wear
any underwear, as all she had to do was hitch up he
skirt.

As I've told you, I was amazed to see female slaves on
sale at the County Fair, as these were much less
common even that male slaves, but it had never struck
me that we would have to use the same facilities like
this, entirely without any provision for modesty or
privacy.   Suppose she'd come in a few seconds
earlier, when I was in the middle of doing my
business?  I suppose it was another way of making
slaves understand that they are no longer free men,
but just some sort of lower life, where different
standards apply.

It didn't take long for the female slave to finish, as
I think she was just pissing, and she got up and
walked over to me.

"Hullo, big boy...."

"Uh... Hi..."

She reached out, and felt for my cock through my thin
shorts.  I'm not used to women taking the initiative
like this - all my life I've had to chase girls and
try really hard to get inside their pants.  This slave
seemed completely shameless and wanton, and she
stroked me and groped at me, trying to feel my dick
through the thin fabric.  I did the only thing any guy
would do in the circumstances, as you'd expect - I got
a massive erection;  and she smiled at me.

"Quick then, while our masters are finishing their
breakfasts"

"Quick...?"

"You are some dumb country boy, aren't you - quick,
fuck me:  I can feel you've got a good piece of meat
there - get it up me, now!"

"No... I... Well.... I don't know you...."

"This isn't some high school prom, you know.  Us
slaves have to take what bit of pleasure we can, when
we can.  You look like a strong young buck, and I want
a real dick inside me, rather than the shrivelled up
old thing of my master's.... Come on...."

She'd got hold of my hips, and sort of moved back
against the wall as she was talking.  Before I could
do anything, she'd pulled my shorts down off my hips,
and my cock had sprang out.

She raised her skirt and pulled me towards her.
"No... I....."

"Are you one of those slaves who doesn't know how to
do it with a woman?"

"No!  I've got kids...."

"So your master breeds from you.... So you know what
to do.... Hurry up....!"

Actually, the closeness of a woman, having my dick
out, and the sight of her slit had all turned me on,
and I pushed forward and started to fuck her.  It was
just like being back in High School actually - a quick
fumble behind the bleachers, and then taking one of
the class slags up against the wall.  I soon forgot
the surroundings, forgot everything, as my excitement
mounted and my strong thighs and ass pumped me in and
out of her.

She'd thrown her arms around my neck and had her legs
wrapped around my waist to make it easier for me, and
I was really pounding away when suddenly there was a
great shout..

"You dirty young fucker - get out of that slave...
NOW!"  I almost dropped the woman in surprise, and
turned to see Matt standing there at the doorway, a
look like thunder on his face.

"I said STOP THAT!", he screamed.  "Get over here at
once!"

You know how it is - just as it's difficult to stop
pissing in mid flow, when your sex drive is running on
high you just can't stop fucking, can you?   There's
no way you an just stop, especially when you're about
to cum.... Which I did, explosively.   I moaned out
loud, and my legs stopped thrusting, and I just stood
there with her still impaled on my dick, my breath
coming in huge gasps.

Matt strode over to me, and almost pulled me off her.
"You disgusting slave - I can't let you out of my
sight, can I, without you starting to rut?....  And I
told you to stop, and you carried on."

"Boss, I.... It wasn't my fault.. She...."

"Stop blaming other people, slave, that's all I ever
hear form you... 'It's not my fault I'm a slave', 'I
can't find a buyer',  'She made me fuck her'.... Take
some  responsibility, for Christ sake!"

I'd pulled out now, and my dick was shining in the
light as it was covered in her cunt juice and my cum.
I was all embarrassed and confused, and went to pull
up my shorts which were bunched around my ankles.

"No!  Give me those!  I don't want them all covered in
that slave's juices!"

I handed the shorts to Matt.  The girl had pulled her
skirt down, and was looking not at all concerned.

"Where's your master?", Matt demanded of the girl.

"Eating breakfast, sir."

"Right!  Come with me, so I can tell him what you've
been up to."

"He knows, sir."

"What?"

"I'm a bed slave, sir, for my master.  But he's eighty
years old, and finds it difficult to fully satisfy me.
 When we're travelling, he requires me to find and
fuck slaves, as he says it takes the animal lust from
me, and it means I'm more docile that night.  So I was
just obeying my master's orders - I came in and found
your slave, and he's a real stud, and I fucked him."

"Please don't blame your slave, sir, he was just
standing there and I forced myself on him.  He's so
strong and virile that I don't expect he had any
chance to resist me, as once I go for a man, they are
usually overwhelmed when their sex drive kicks in.
There's no harm done, after all, as he's only shot a
load of cum, and a big buck like that will regenerate
within half an hour....".  She was smiling at me as
she said this.

"Back to the pick-up, slave", Matt snapped at me.

I went to say goodbye to the girl - I didn't know what
to do, really - say "Thanks", or what.... But Matt
just dragged me off, and as we left I saw her start
back toward the restaurant.

Matt seemed to be in some sort of suppressed fury as
we strode across the car park.  My dick was swinging
around, and I knew that everyone must be looking at
me.  Matt threw me a tissue from a box on the dash
when we got back to the pick up  "Get that dick of
yours clean - I don't want to have to drive with the
scent of that bitch stinking the place out!  I ought
to make you ride in the back, but we're taking the
Interstate and I want to go fast."

I made an ineffectual attempt to clean my dick, and
bits of tissue broke off as they got wet and stuck to
my shaft.

"Jesus Christ, slave - can't you do anything right?
Go back around to the kitchens, and get them to give
you some water."

Matt sat back in the seat, and turned on the radio.
"And be quick about it - run!  If you're not back in
three minutes, I'll thrash you tonight, so help me!"

I ran across the parking lot, and even more of the
patrons stopped to stare at me now.  I remembered the
tap I'd drunk from so I didn't have to ask in the
kitchen, and stood there with my dick underneath it
trying to clean myself a bit.  The water was icy cold,
and it splashed all over my naked thighs and legs as I
went at it.  As I finished, I turned and saw the slave
girl standing where I had been, by the door, eating a
bowl of the slave food I'd been given.

"So long, big boy", she said cheerily.

"Look... "

"Don't worry - you were a good fuck.  I hope your
master wasn't too cross."

I wanted to say more, but what was there to say,
really?  And I remembered what Matt had said about
three minutes, so simply ran back to the pick up.

Matt looked down at me, at my wet pubes and legs, and
handed me my shorts.  I pulled them on, jumped into
the front seat, and we roared off.

"If you ever fuck anything without my permission
again", Matt began, "Whether you instigated it or they
did, man or woman, I'll take you to the nearest
doctor's office and have you castrated.  Is that
clear?"

"Boss, I'm sorry..."

"Shut the fuck up!  Slaves aren't 'sorry'.  Good
slaves don't offend their masters in the first place."

"OK, boss.  But she did come on to me first, you
know...."

"You don't get it, do you, slave?  You don't
understand that you are not supposed to make choices.
Before you were enslaved, if you'd gone to a club or
something and some slag had come on to you, you could
have decided to go along with it and rammed her as
much as you like, until your balls dropped off, as far
as anyone would care. And you were free to chase after
women, and try to get inside their pants, if that was
the way you operated.  But you're a slave now, and
slaves only do what they're ordered to.  That other
slave was obeying her master's orders, and coming on
to any piece of slave meat she saw, as you heard.  But
you should have known that it wasn't up to you to
decide whether to go along with it:  you should have
asked me if you could!"

"Boss, I'm sorry... But, as she said, after all, it
was only a load of cum..."

"Don't you listen?  You should have asked me, not made
a decision, even if it was probably one where your
dick dragged you along and that feeble brain of yours
only contributed 5%!  You must ask me - not decide.
Suppose I'd wanted to watch - suppose I like porn and
wanted to see those big thighs of yours pumping your
dick into her?  Suppose I wanted to make a deal with
her owner, to let you fuck her before he does, in
exchange for a share in any kids she has? Suppose I'd
rather you fucked a young slave boy, as I don't like
the idea of a slave of mine fucking a woman?  You
don't know the answers to questions like that, do you?
 You didn't ask my permission, so I was deprived of
the choice about how you use your body."

I began to see there was more to this slavery thing
than I'd thought.

"Anyway", Matt continued, "Be careful!  If you
continue to be headstrong and wilful, I will have to
have you calmed down, and you know what that means,
don't you?"

"Yes, boss."

We drove along on silence for another couple of hours,
then turned off the Interstate and went along state
highways, until there was a sign off on to a County
road, saying "Seatown 10".

The place sure did seem to be isolated - we went
across a couple of ranges of low hills, until we
dropped down into a small town that straddled a small
river leading into the sea.  The shore on one side of
the river had a sandy beach, and on the other side
there was a stone wall, with a broad paved area behind
it with a number of small buildings behind that.

We headed for one of those buildings, and parked in a
small lot that said "Town Of Seatown. Reserved Parking
For Members Of Seatown Mariners' Society."  Matt got
out, and I followed him along the pavement, which in
fact was a quay I now saw - there were steps leading
down to the water at intervals, and bollards that
boats could be tied up to.

In my sweat and shorts I felt less out of place than I
had before - even though it was only March, the sun
was quite warm and there were a number of people
strolling around dressed for what I guess you might
call "seaside vacations out of season" - well cut
shorts, sweaters, that sort of thing.  A number of
guys were also around, mostly in jeans and Ts like
Matt, but some in shorts, too.  Matt knew all of
these, and stopped and chatted briefly to them,
although he never introduced me and I just had to
stand there, silent.  Listening to their conversation,
that ranged from the weather, through the state of the
sea, to "business", I gathered that there was a lively
fishing trade here - mainly skippers who took loads of
rich anglers out for deep-sea fishing, but some
commercial catching of lobsters and scallops, too.  It
was a real working port, although not for cargo or
anything, and a "holiday place" for the affluent
middle classes from the cities that were about an hour
and a half away.

Matt stopped, and pointed out a line of small white
boats floating about fifty yards from shore.  "Those
are all mine", he told me, "And that's what you'll be
helping me with.  I hire those out by the hour to
holiday makers and fishermen.  We moor them out there
as there's not room at the quay, and, anyway, we get
quite different levels of tide here - when it's right
out, they're barely floating out there.  That's one
string to my bow.  I also run a service that 'does
anything' for the owners of the big boats moored
further out - they generally only use them on
weekends, but I'll get things fixed if they're broken,
provision them, row the owners out when they arrive...
All that sort of stuff, so that an owner can just come
down here and enjoy his boat.  I don't make a lot of
money, but then,  I like my work, and I meet a lot of
nice people."

We stopped in front of one of the small buildings, and
Matt pulled out a key and unlocked the door.  On the
window it said "Matt James Marine - Boats For Hire By
The Hour, Or Day.  General Services For Boat Owners."
Inside, there was just a counter, a couple of chairs,
and a phone.

"See, simple, isn't it?  I don't need anything fancy.
It's mainly a cash business, and everything's to hand.
 It's going to be great now I've got you - I used to
have to rely on a succession of school kids on
vacation, and the occasional college student - but
they mostly didn't like the work, and once I'd got one
trained, they'd leave.  I needed two or three, to keep
up with demand, but with you able to swim so well, I
shan't need anyone else."

"What's the work, boss?"

"Well, when someone wants to hire a boat, it needs to
be bought up to the quay.  One of the kids had to row
out, then tow it back, and it all takes time, as does
taking the boat back to the moorings in the evening.
But with you, you can just swim out and bring the boat
back - much faster:  I'll be able to give a better
service to the customers, with less waiting.  And if
one of the owners of the big boats further out wants
his skiff fetched back, it'll be much quicker for you
to swim out there and row it back, rather than having
to get one kid to row another one out, then fiddle
around while they swap boats, then having two boats
rowed back.  You'll be spending a lot of time in the
harbour, and it will be a good healthy life, too - all
that swimming!"

"But boss, isn't the water rather cold - I don't think
I can swim in a wet suit..."

"Oh, don't worry about that!  You won't have to swim
in a wet suit, that's not necessary.  This isn't the
Arctic Ocean you know, just the Atlantic.  The water's
never much below 40, and provided you swim fast,
you'll keep warm!"

As he was speaking, a couple came in and asked about
renting a boat for a few hours.  Matt spent a couple
of minute telling them about the charges, and asking
them if they'd ever used a small boat with an inboard
engine.  They all seemed happy, so he turned to me and
said "Right, Steve.  Here's your chance to start your
new job.... Swim out and bring back the boat from the
end of the line."

We all went outside, and Matt looked at me, and held
out his hand in a gesture that told me he wanted me to
hand him my sweat, so I did.  There was no point in
prolonging the agony, was there?  I am a good swimmer,
and I can dive, too, so I just ran across the quay and
dived in, and kicked out for the row of Matt's boats.
The cold of the sea almost took my breath away as my
body hit it, but I'd done a perfect running dive, and
as my head broke the surface I seemed to be almost a
third of the way towards the boats.  I kicked out and
went into a fast crawl, and soon got to them. As I
swam along, I revelled in the use of my body:  I might
be a slave, but only I would know the pleasure of
swimming like this.  It was a bit fiddly to tread
water and to try to unhitch one of the boats from the
mooring buoy, but I soon did it, then kind of pushed
it back towards the quay, holding on to it with my
hands and driving us forwards with my powerful legs.
About half way it got shallower, so I put my legs down
and just strode forward, pushing the boat in front of
me.

I got back to the quay, and lightly ran up the steps
and handed the painter to Matt.

It was only then that I started to get cold - the sun
had gone in, and the icy water ran over my body really
chilling me.  The wet satin clung to me and dribbled
more water down my legs, and I started to rub myself
to try to get warm.  The man and woman client stood
there looking at me - actually, I suppose I was good
to look at - big, strong, muscled guy in tiny, wet
satin shorts, standing there half shivering!  The
satin clung to me, and I knew they could kind of see
my ass as it plastered itself to my skin, and the
outline of my dick was plainly visible.

"Do you need a towel, or something?", the woman asked.

Before I could reply, Matt cut in  "No, mam.  This is
a new slave, and he's just not used to the sea
properly yet.  Do forgive him for hopping around and
making a spectacle of himself like that - you're his
first customer, and he doesn't know how to act
properly yet!"

The couple kind of shrugged, and climbed down the
steps and chugged away in the motor boat.

"Good on you, slave!", Matt told me.  "Perhaps you do
have some sense after all.  I didn't tell you to push
the boat back, and I thought you might have climbed in
and started the motor - don't do that, will you, as
you'll drip water onto the seats, and that pisses off
the customers."

There were only a few customers that day, and I got
wet about eight times and stood there trying to keep
warm - I found that if I "planed" the water off my
with my hands it helped, and it was also good to stand
in Matt's little office looking out of the window, as
what little sun there was felt warmer through the
glass.  If I ever did succeed in getting completely
dry, I was allowed to put the sweat on, and somehow I
got through the day without getting frostbite!

When Matt locked up for the night we walked along the
quay only a very short distance before he opened the
door of a tiny house tucked in-between some of the
semi-industrial buildings:   downstairs there was just
one room, with  a couch, a TV and stereo, a desk with
a PC, and a kitchen counter running half way across,
behind which there was a modest kitchen.

Matt led the way upstairs, where there was again a
single room with a big double bed standing low on the
floor, and a bathroom that was only half concealed - a
bath, a big glass shower cabinet, and a lavatory.

"This is 'home', Steve.", Matt told me.  "You notice
I'm calling you Steve, as when we're here, it will be
just like a couple of guys who are house mates.  You
can call me Matt here - providing there aren't guests,
of course.  And you can talk freely, and do more or
less as you like - providing of course you don't argue
with me, or disobey any of my orders.  I'd like us to
me more like buddies in this place, rather than owner
and slave."

"Thanks, Matt."

"Good.  Now, strip off and shower whilst I make
dinner."  As he was talking, he was rummaging in the
linen basket, found some things, and tossed them onto
the bed.

"I'm not going to buy you special slave clothes, as
we're about the same size and, as you can see, space
is a bit limited here.  So you'll usually wear the
clothes I wore yesterday: that will cut down on the
washing and ironing!  Here's a T and the boxers I had
on then - wash the salt off you, get dressed, and come
on down."

It was the first time I'd had a proper shower for a
long time: hot water, soap, and, more importantly, the
luxury of being able to stand there and wash myself
for as long as I wanted without other men watching me.
 I could have gone on for ever, but Matt appeared
outside the cubicle "Hey - although we're buddies, I
have to pay the bills here!  Get that fucking shower
off, it's costing me a fortune!"

He stood and watched me as I dried, and I used the
damp towel lying on the floor, which I guessed must
have been from the previous day - Matt noticed, I'm
sure, and didn't day anything.

He let me have the same steak, salad and a baked
potato as he had, although he made me drink water and
I wasn't given one of his beers, then I had to clear
away the dishes and wash them, and we finally both sat
on the couch in front of the TV.

"So, Steve, your first day.  It will get busier as the
season starts, and it's always busy at weekends.  But
provided you work hard, it will be a good life for
you.  In fact, I rather envy you - you get to swim, to
stand around, and to exercise, whilst I have to worry
about the money, the taxes, the bills....  It will be
like an endless childhood for you - all that good
healthy exercise, and no worries!"

I decided not to interrupt him and tell him that it
was cold, and fucking hard work!

He didn't let me choose any of the TV programmes -
don't even ask me if I liked what was on!  He's one of
those "channel hoppers", who clicks the remote about
every 10 seconds, so it  was really hard to watch
anything, really.  But I didn't care - I felt that at
least with Matt as my owner I was unlikely to get sold
to the organ banks, or have my balls cut off!

At about 10, Matt said "Enough!  I like an early
start, so it's early to bed."

I was kind of expecting that I'd have to sleep on the
couch, as it was the only place except for the bed,
but after a few minutes Matt called down "Get your ass
up here, Steve - I'm waiting to turn the lights out!"

I climbed the stairs, and Matt was sprawled out in the
big bed.  "Get in!", he said.

I pulled the T shirt over my head, and went to get
into the bed - it wasn't as big as that in the motel
last night, and with Matt's big body half across it,
there didn't seem to be much room.

"Get those boxers off!  What do you think you're
doing?"

"Matt.. I thought that if we were going to share this
bed, I should leave them on...."

"Are you some sort of wimp?  Real men go to bed
totally naked.  What do you need boxers on for?  For
modesty?  For warmth?  For protection?   Forget the
modesty - I've seen it all before, haven't I?  And,
anyway, I own you, so what have you got to be modest
about?  Warmth - two warm bloodied guys together - no
problem.  Protection - from what?  So get naked."

I dropped the boxers, and slid into the bed, keeping
well to the edge so as not to touch Matt.    But he
shuffled across the bed, and spooned up behind me.
The sheet underneath my hips felt kind of stiff and
bristly, and I moved a bit.

"Don't mind the dried cum on the sheet", Matt remarked
casually. "I usually change them tomorrow, so there's
quite a build up now."   I had to suppress a little
shudder as he said this - it was bad enough feeling it
against me, but to have a guy admit there was cum on
his sheets - ugh! (It only shows how I wasn't thinking
correctly - where do you expect to find dried cum,
after all?  If a guy can't leave cum all over his bed,
where can he leave it?)

He moved even closer to me, and I could feel his dick
pressing at my ass crack, and his hot breath, as he
breathed in and out, was on my neck.  One arm reached
across my ribs, and his big hand rested on my flat
stomach.  He moved it around a bit, then idly twisted
his fingers in and out of my pubic hair.

"There, Steve.  That's what I mean - just two ordinary
guys together, sharing a house.  No 'owner', no
'slave' - we might be two guys anywhere in the country
who need to share a house."

"Do you have enough room?", he then asked.  "You're
awfully close to the edge!"

He moved away from me, and I gave a little inward
sigh.  "Come on over here", he said.

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

"Hey, Steve:  I know we're buddies here and
everything, but remember what I said about direct
orders?  I said come on over here!"

So I moved cautiously towards the centre of the bed.

"Turn around and face me."

I did as he said, and then his arm snaked out and kind
of pulled us close together so his face was right in
mine, and I felt certain I could feel his dick against
mine.

"Now, Steve, if we're going to be buddies, you've got
to stop being so fucking shy!  Now, tell me, what do
you normally do before you go to sleep at night - and
the answer isn't 'say my prayers!'?"

"Nothing, Matt."

"How old are you again, Steve?"

"24."

"Well, you must be the only 24 year old guy in the
world who doesn't jerk himself off before he goes to
sleep!  So come on, we're buddies together, remember?
House mates?  Doing just the normal stuff that any two
guys do?  So why aren't you jerking off?"

I was blushing furiously.  I was so close to him, the
presence of his body was so powerful, his scent, his
breath....

"Matt - I didn't think that guys sharing a house did
that."

"Look, Steve, all guys jerk each other off when they
have the opportunity.  Didn't you have a special buddy
at school?  Didn't you ever go camping with the
scouts?  Weren't there 'sleep overs' with the
neighbours when you were kids?  Surely you've jerked
off with other guys?"

"No, Matt."

"Well, the house rules here are that jerking of is
compulsory before going to sleep - I don't like waking
up in the night with a raging hard on, or getting
stabbed by the hard on of the guy in bed with me.  So
get started!"

I reached down and felt for my dick, and started to
jerk.  Actually, I was erect, and as soon as my
foreskin slid over my head a few times, I almost
forgot Matt lying there, until his hand closed over
mine.

"Good boy, Steve.... Now let me have a go."

His hand moved up and down my shaft, and I had this
unbelievable sensation - a mixture of so many things.
Sure, it was sexy, but I was embarrassed at having a
guy do this to me, and scared: he was my owner and I
knew he  had an unpredictable temper, and I worried
that I'd "do something wrong".

He was almost crooning at me now, breathing in and out
as his hand slid up and down my cock "There, big
boy... That's a big fat cock.... Let me stroke it.....
Feel my hot hand on your warm dick..."

As he slid his hand up and down, I started to leak
pre-cum and he went on "That's right, Steve... I can
feel your slime now... Feel how my hand is sliding on
your dick.... Feel my fingers stroking your dick
head...."

All of this was incredibly erotic, and the touch of
his hands against me was really turning me on.  I
started to moan, gently:  it surprised me, as it
wasn't something voluntary - just a low moan, from
deep down somewhere inside me.  My breathing started
to synchronise with his, and I felt the pressure
building up in my balls.

"Come on, Steve... I know you want to shoot... Come
and shoot your cum all over me.... Come on, Steve....
You can do it... Come and shoot...."


My moans had turned to little cries of "Yes, Yes,
Yes....", and then, like a great fountain being turned
on, my dick started to pump big loads of cum.  We were
so close together that I knew that it must have hit
Matt's body, and that his hand must be covered in it.

"I'm sorry, Matt... "

"For what?"

"For shooting over you... I'll go and get a towel..."

"Don't be such an idiot!  If you're jerking a guy off,
you expect to get covered in his cum. It's all part of
the fun, and entirely natural!  What's wrong with it?"

"But it's my cum..."

"Sure - perfectly natural!  All guys produce it, and
we all know what it's like.  So unless you're very
different from all the other men on the planet, your
cum is perfectly normal, perfectly wholesome, and
something that two guys should be proud to share
together."

"Now", he went on.  "Your turn."

I was going to ask him what he meant, but his hand,
slimy with my cum, grasped mine and he moved it down
and placed it on his dick.  I felt it warm in my palm,
and as I held it, it started to grow and go hard.  I'd
never touched a guy's dick before, not before I had to
kiss his yesterday (was it only yesterday? It felt
like a lifetime ago!).  And I'd never actually held a
dick at all, and certainly not one that was rapidly
going hard!

"Come on, Steve.... I want to get to sleep, and I need
to cum.... Get to work!"

Cautiously, I ran my hand lightly up and down his
shaft, then started to jerk him in earnest.  It felt
funny, doing it "the wrong way around" - you're used
to doing it with your hand on the same side as your
dick, aren't you, not to a dick lying opposite you!
And it was odd not to have a foreskin to slide up and
down - just the shaft, the tight skin, and his big
meaty flange.  I guess it was lucky there was so much
cum around, as my hand slid easily over him, and it
started to feel really good - warm, and somehow
'masculine', the sort of thing one guy would naturally
want to do to another.  I went on and on, and Matt
started to moan, then he shouted "Yes, I'm
cumming...", and I felt a spurt of something moist
lash out and hit my belly.

I carried on gently stroking his dick, but Matt kind
of squirmed away, and half in pain, half laughing,
said "Enough, Steve!  Fucking leave me alone... Oh....
 HEY!  Don't you know that some guys can't bear to be
touched once they've cum?  If you don't, learn it
soon!"

I let go, and we lay there for a moment or so, then he
pulled me close to him again.  His right leg pushed a
bit and forced itself in-between mine, then he bent
his knee so that his thigh was pushed up into my ass
crack.  His arms went around me, and he pulled me so
close to him that our dicks were now pushed together,
and our cum-soaked bodies were in intimate contact.

"See.. That's what a couple of buddies sharing a house
do... .and a whole lot of other stuff, too, that we'll
get on to later in the week.  Was that OK for you?"

"Yes... Fantastic, actually."

"And you've never done this with a guy before?"

"No."

"So you had to rely on that wife of yours to jerk you
off..."

"No way!  She hated to touch my dick, or even look at
it.  All she'd do was to let me fuck her, and I had to
insist on that most of the time."

"You poor guy - you've never known the fun, the
comradeship, the sheer pleasure of proper man to man
sex?"

"I guess not..."

"Well, perhaps slavery is the best thing that's
happened to you in your 24 years!  Now, get to sleep!"


End Of Part 6