Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 23:35:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Story: Harbour Master, Part 8

HARBOUR MASTER, Part 8

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Matt was strangely silent for the rest of the morning,
and in the early afternoon a storm started to come in,
the temperature dropped, and all the early season
visitors disappeared back into their cars.

Matt turned the sign on the door to "Closed - Back
Soon.  Call My Cell Phone If It's Urgent", and told me
to follow him.

We walked to the pick up, and I went to get in beside
him.

"No, slave.  Slave's ride in the back!  Sorry, but
this is daytime, on our home territory.  The other
guys would think I was going soft if I let a slave
ride up front!  And, anyway, I don't want to talk."

He sounded odd, but I kind of inwardly shrugged, and
climbed into the back of the pickup.  It was full of
bits of boating crap - chains, floats, empty jerry
cans, a few tools, and I had to clear a space on the
cold steel floor so that I could sit down.  The
temperature had dropped, and as Matt drove away it was
really cold in the slipstream - I was only wearing the
usual sweatshirt and nylon shorts, of course.

It started to rain, and big heavy cold droplets soon
worked their way in to soak me.  I thought Matt would
stop and let me climb in up front, but soon saw this
wasn't going to happen as he just drove on.
Fortunately there was a piece of old, smelly tarpaulin
in the back, so I pulled that over me and sat there,
cold, wet, and miserable, listening to the rain
crashing down onto the tarp and the wet swish of the
tires on the road.

It rained so hard that it was difficult for the water
to drain out of the pickup's bed, and I was soon
sitting in a little stream of water that was soaking
my shorts.  I got even colder and more miserable, and
wondered where we were going, and why.   Surely Matt
wasn't going to sell me, was he?  All my old fears
started up again - he'd been worried ever since the
doctor's talk about mistreating me as a slave:
perhaps he was going to fix the problem by getting rid
of me!  Was he going to send me to an organ bank?
Even if he sold me to a dealer, was I still
"unfashionable", and would I end up there anyway?  I
started to shiver, and it wasn't just from the cold
and the wet!

A I huddled under the tarp I couldn't see where we
were going, but ultimately the ride slowed, and Matt
stopped and the engine turned off.  It was still
raining hard, and Matt pulled the tarp aside and told
me to leap down, and be quick about it, and follow
him.

I looked around and saw we were in the middle of the
town we had passed through which was the last
medium-sized place before Seatown.   Matt concentrated
on driving, then pulled into the kerb and, parked at a
meter.  Matt only got a sweat on, like me, and this
and his jeans were getting wet, so he hurried off and
I followed.  We crossed the street, and went down an
alley, and in through a door.

It was bizarre - the walls were hung with pictures and
posters of guys with amazing tattoos all over them -
really repulsive, most of them.  A curtain covering a
doorway in the far wall was pushed back, and this vile
looking guy came through - he was at least fifty
pounds too heavy, he had dirty-looking hair tied back
in a pony tail, his belly flopped over the waistband
of his jeans, but what was worst was that his whole
upper body - he didn't wear a shirt - was covered in
writhing designs in red and black.  You couldn't
really see his flesh at all.

"Yes?"

"I called", Dave said. "And made an appointment.  This
is the slave..."

"OK.  You coming back?  It will take about two hours.
Have you got the design?"

"No.  I'll wait.  He's a bit of a young hothead, and
he's not properly adjusted to slavery yet.  You might
have problems handling him if I'm not here. And he's
wearing the design, on that sweat shirt.  Just do
exactly that, as I explained on the phone."

"Look, fella, I don't have any problems handling
slaves!  Do it all the time!  Most of my work these
days is slave ornamentation.  I'm just finishing one
up, be about five minutes, and then I'll be with you.
Once we've got this one secured, though, you can go
away and get a cup of coffee, or a good fuck, or
whatever - there's a pretty good fuck shop just across
the street:  men or women - or both, if that's your
preference."

He turned and went back through the curtain, and I
could hear a buzzing starting, that went on and on.

Matt sat down, and tried to read one of the magazines
lying around - he didn't ant to talk, it seemed.

"Matt...  Boss.... "

"Shut up, slave.  It's none of your business."

"Please... Tell me what's going on.... "

"I said shut the fuck up!  Can't you see I'm trying to
read!"

"Boss, I'm sorry... I didn't know you were interested
in that magazine... I've never seen you reading 'Your
Decorated Slave Monthly' before,,,,"

"I'm not telling you again, slave.  I told you to shut
up, now shut it!  You'll find out soon enough what's
going on.  And don't ever use that sarcastic tome with
me again - there's a public whipper in this town, you
know, and we can soon go around there."

Matt sounded really firm about it, and rather upset.
So I decided not to push my luck, and just sat there.

The guy was right - it was only about ten minutes, and
he emerged again and told us to come through.

Inside there was a leather-covered table under a
bright light in the centre of the room, a bench along
the wall with a whole lot of "Stuff on it", and
sitting on a stool against one wall, a girl in her
early twenties, naked from the waist up.  I looked at
her, and couldn't take my eyes off her breasts - for
one thing, I'm a bit of a breast man, and for another,
these were extraordinary!  They would have been a nice
size for her medium, toned body, and they were very
pert - you know what I mean, they jutted out nicely,
and she'd easily pass the pencil test as there was no
way that a pencil could lodge under them!  But they
were covered in tattoos - radiating out from the
nipples were a set of line that ran up to her shoulder
blades and down to her belly:  each breast looked like
one of those "Sunburst" clocks you sometimes see on
sale.  And from each of her prominent nipples a heavy
gold ring hung.  The whole thing was obviously
designed to completely emphasise her breasts - even if
you weren't into breasts, there was just no way you
could avoid looking at these!

"Just finished her", the tattoo artist said to Matt.
"Great idea her owner had, isn't it?  You won't be
able to take your eyes off that set, now I've put that
pattern over them.  And do you like the rings - I do
that, too:  shall I fit some to your slave boy, whilst
he's here?"

Mat went over to the girl and casually cupped her left
breast in his right hand, and kind of jiggled it up
and down.

"My, these are a fine set", he said to the tattooist.
"You must have enjoyed handling these whilst you
mapped out that design!  I wish I could afford a girl
like this - some guys have all the luck in this life."

I hadn't really thought of Matt as someone who had
desires for women, I suppose, but he had talked about
his son, Billy, so I guess he was interested in women.

As I watched, Matt started to rub his thumb over the
girl's nipple, causing her ring to move as it slid
through the hole hat had been pierced in her.  She
started to thrash around a bit, and finally cried out.

"She's probably a bit sensitive still", the tattooist
said. "The anaesthetic's wearing off, and until the
scar tissue's formed, newly pierced nipples can be
painful.  Her master was pretty considerate, as
anaesthetic's extra - but I'm not sure it's worth it:
I bet he'll be sucking away on those tits tonight
anyway, and she'll be moaning and crying..."

"Well, it's sure hurting me", Matt said, jokingly.
"My dick's battering itself against my jeans to get
out.  Haven't felt a nice pair of tits in a long
time."

"Well, at least you've got this slave boy here...."

"Sure.  But it's not the same, is it?  Perhaps I will
leave him, and go and relieve myself at the fuck shop
- it's a long time since I've had my dick cosseted by
a nice slave girl's pussy!"

"OK, but hang around whilst I prep him, though."

Turning to me, the tattooist said "Do you need to pee,
boy?  You're going to be here for a couple of hours,
and I don't stop, once I've started"

"Yes, please, sir...."  It sounded sensible, as I'd
drunk about a pint of water with my lunch, and had
swallowed a bit of the harbour as  I worked this
morning!

He pulled a plastic bucket out from under the work
table, and said "Drop those shorts, and pee in here.
And hurry."

I blushed furiously as I fumbled to drop my nylon
shorts - there was no fly or anything, so I knew that
in order to pee I had to take them right down.  And  I
could see the young girl watching me.... no, I
couldn't do it.

"Actually, sir, I don't need to pee..."

"OK, but get those fucking shorts off, will you?  I
may need to work low down, and I don't want the waist
band getting in the way."

I could see Matt looking at me, and I remembered that
he'd told me I had to obey the reasonable orders of
all masters.  I guessed that he'd think this as a
reasonable order, and that, repulsive though he was,
the tattooist was a free man and thus counted as a
master.  So there was nothing for it, was there?  I
undid the button on the waistband, and dropped them to
stand there just in my sweat shirt.  I've told you
that both Matt and I think it looks odd to have a guy
dressed like that, and my dick and balls hung down
almost obscenely from under the sweat.  I could see
the young girl looking at my manhood, and blushed
deeper and deeper red.

"Nice piece of meat your slave's got", the tattooist
went on.  "Do you want him 'skinned whilst he's here?
I've got a state licence for minor remedial works on
slaves, and it won't take much time."

"No, thanks.  But, tell me, is it common?  Someone
told me it was."

"Oh, sure.  I get a lot of masters in here who have
just bought slaves, and are surprised to see they
don't come ready 'skinned!  So many of the
newly-enslaved are young guys, and since they stopped
'skinning babies routinely, most of these slaves still
have their 'skins.  Masters like to have them taken
off, as it helps to teach the slaves that it's their
masters who now control their bodies.  And, of course,
they think it looks better!"

"Well, I prefer the feel of the slave with the 'skin
left on, so I won't take you up on the offer.  Let's
just have the tattoo, as I agreed."

Turning to me, Matt went on "And you pee in that
bucket - I think I know what's going on - you didn't
ant to strip in front of that slave girl, did you? And
now you don't want to piss in front of her!  So let's
use this as a lesson, shall we?  You've nothing to be
shamed of - you've got a dick and balls most guys
would die for.  And peeing is perfectly natural.
You're a slave, and slaves don't have modesty.  So
there's no reason why you shouldn't  strip and pee in
front of a free woman, and absolutely no reason for
even stopping to consider a slave girl!  Now, get
pissing - I don't want the tattooist complaining to me
when I get back if you have to interrupt the session!"

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.  Of
course I'd finally got used to peeing in front of my
fellow slaves when we were all held naked at the
dealers.  But here I was being asked to hold a plastic
bucket in front of my dick, and pee into it with a
woman watching!  I turned around, so I wasn't facing
her.

"No, slave!  That action shows you still haven't
understood what being a slave means!  Why should it
matter if your dick, hosing out piss, is towards her,
or your ass?  Neither of you has any feelings at all
on the subject!  Now, turn around again, and piss!"

I had to obey Matt, didn't I?  I could see her
watching me as I desperately tried to piss.  I pulled
the lip of the bucket as high up towards my pubes as I
could, so I was mostly hidden, and managed to force
out a few drops.  Then, as that happened, I relaxed a
bit, and the piss started to flow.  But there's that
awful "hollow" sound as piss hits the base of a
plastic bucket, isn't there?  And it just went on and
on - they could all hear me pissing, and the smell of
my piss rose up into the room.

Finally I stopped, but then what?  I need to clean out
my 'skin, as I've told you.  How could I do that, with
them all watching?  But if I didn't, I knew my dick
head would be foul by the night, and suppose Matt
wanted to suck me?  So, still blushing furiously, I
put the bucket down on the floor and kind of leaned
over it, whilst I ran my thumb and finger down my dick
to run the water out of the urethra, then massaged my
foreskin to make the last drops fall out.

"Right, slave.  Off with that sweat shirt, and up on
to the table!", the tattooist told me.

I did as I was told, and felt the clammy coldness of
the leather against my chest and belly.

"Will you help me tie him down, please?", the
tattooist asked Matt - I'll take one side, and you can
do the other.

"Is it necessary?  He's a good slave generally, and if
I order him to lie still..."

"A lot of masters say that, sir, but I like to be
safe, rather than sorry.  When they see what's being
done to them, even though their masters ordered it,
some slaves just lose it.  So the house rule is that
all slaves must be secured."

Under the tattooist's instruction, Matt followed him
in firstly cuffing each of my ankles to one corner of
the table, and then cuffing my wrists to the legs at
the front, near the floor.  My head was hanging
uncomfortably over the edge of the table, but the
tattooist pulled out a little stand from underneath
it, and cupped my chin into it.  "I need the head
straight to the body", he explained to Matt, "else if
he lies with it on one side, the work might come out a
bit uneven."

With my jaw resting on the stand, a strap was put
around my head to hold it there - there was that
"swish" as Velcro bindings were pressed home, so I
couldn't move.

"That's the basic restraints done", said the
tattooist.  "Now it's very important to make sure he
absolutely can't move the work site."

He passed a broad leather belt under the table and
around my waist.  "Fasten this really tight", he told
Matt "Get up on the table, kneel on the slave's back
to force him down as far as he'll go, then tie that
belt as tight as you can - it doesn't matter if you
interfere with the slave's breathing slightly, as he
won't need deep breaths as he's just lying there - and
if he can only take shallow ones, it cuts down on the
screaming!  That is, if he's not going to be a big,
brave, boy and hold the screams in!"

Matt did as he was instructed, and the sheer weight of
him as his knee pressed into my back almost took my
breath away.

"Good.  With the waist cinched tight and the head
restrained, that really only leaves the shoulders.
I'd usually use 'L' clamps to pull them down on to the
table, but this slave's pecs are so pronounced that
his shoulders are so high up.  And, in any case, I'll
be working there and the clamps tend to stretch the
skin a bit.  So I'd better just bind his arms, as high
up as we can get, and hope that that holds."

They passed leather straps around my arms, right up
near my pits, and pulled them down to secure them in
rings under the tabletop.  I couldn't move.

The tattooist ran his hands all down my back - I hated
to feel his podgy fingers against me. "Nice back the
boy has - classic shape, good muscles.  And no hair -
do you shave him, or have you had him depilated?"

"No, it's natural, I suppose - I haven't thought about
it.  He was like that when I got him.  I have him
shave his ass and his balls, of course, and he gets
the occasional trim of his pubes.  It's just as well I
don't want him marked on the front, as he's got a good
thatch there, as you can see - but the back is smooth
naturally, I think."

Again, they were doing that thing of talking about me,
my body, as if I wasn't there!

"Right, sir, you can be off now.  AS I said, a couple
of hours, give or take a few minutes.  And the working
and the style is to be EXACTLY the same?"

"Yes - and position it in the same general places,
too, as best you can."

With that, Matt left, and the tattooist started to
work.  I can't tell you how much it hurt - at first,
it seemed to be nothing.  Then it built up, and got
worse and worse.  I wanted to scream, but I was
determined not to.  Sweat broke out all over me.

The tattooist stopped after a few minutes, and came
around the front of me and offered me something:  it
was a bar of something black, about an inch in
diameter.

"Here - take this in your mouth, and bite down on it.
It will help!"

I opened my mouth as best I could and he pushed the
bar in, and I clamped my teeth into it - it was
extremely resilient, but I could hold it.  And it did
help - as the pain from his work went on and on, I
found that my jaw was aching with the effort of
clamping down to stop myself from crying out!

I don't know how long  it went on for, but the jingle
of the bell on the outer door caused the man to stop
eventually, and he came back in with an older guy, and
pointed at the slave girl.

"Here she is, sir. With that design all over her tits,
and her new nipple rings as you ordered."

The man went over to the girl and she stood up.  He
reached out and unconcernedly fondled her breasts,
although, as had happened with Matt, I heard her gasp
when he tweaked the rings hanging down so heavily from
her nipples.

"Excellent job!  I've already paid you, haven't I?
This is so pleasing - I'm having friends over to
dinner tonight, and I guarantee those horny devils
won't be able to take their eyes off her!  We're
playing poker afterwards, and they'll be so distracted
as she leans over to empty the ash trays and so on
that it will be worth a lot to me - I expect to win
big tonight!"

Both men were laughing as he said this, and I wondered
what the poor girl was thinking about as she looked
forward to being ogled by a lot of horny guys.

"I'm thinking of having something done to her slit,
too", he went on.  "Any ideas?"

As he said this, the man fumbled behind the girl, and
the short skirt she was wearing fell to the floor so
she stood there totally naked.  The  tattooist went
over to her, formed his two fingers and thumbs into a
kind of square, and placed them on her pubic mound,
"framing" her slit.  All the poor girl could do was
stand there.  You'd have thought he was some kind of
artist, not a grungy technician!

"Well, there are the classic 'mythology' themes - a
big snake crawling out, or crawling in; or a swan's
neck disappearing down it.  Or 'invitations' - 'Fuck
me!' in some kind of fancy script.  Or you could go
for something abstract again - another pattern of
radiating lines, to match her tits.  It's up to you,
sir - we've got past editions of 'Decorated Slave
Monthly' out in reception, and you're welcome to take
them home with you to browse.  Of course, she'll have
to be totally shaved - or are you going to have her
depilated permanently if she's going to be
ornamented?"

"Oh, the latter, I think.  Do you do that?"

"No, but I can get it done for you.  If you deliver
the slave here next Tuesday morning, I'll send her to
the stylist to have all the hair removed, then do the
design in the afternoon."

"Fine.  See you then."

The man walked out, and the slave girl followed him -
he didn't give her time to put her skirt back on, and
the sight of her breasts moving up and down, her naked
body almost brushing against my head as she came past,
and then her lovely woman's rump disappearing, make me
go completely erect!  It was painful - my body was
strapped down so hard to the table that there really
wasn't room for my erect dick under it!  Being bound
there, naked, with a desirable young naked woman
paraded in front of me was too much - how could they
do this to people?

The tattooist noticed my erection, though, and the
next moment I felt his vile fat fingers probing
between my thighs and the base of my ass as I lay
there helpless, and he began to massage my dick as it
lay there, once he had fully revealed it and teased it
out a bit.  I hated it, and shook my hands vigorously
in the hope I could break free and stop his vile
fondling of me, but it a no good - the cuffs held
firm.  No one has the right to handle a guy when he's
unable to resist, as I was.... No, I guess that's not
true - they could, as I was only a slave.

"So, slave boy, in spite of having such a fantastic
virile hunk as a master, you still fancy the girls, do
you?  What's the matter?  Hasn't that master taught
you yet all about proper sex?"

I couldn't help it. I was so aroused by the sight of
the slave girl, and the casual way that these men had
fondled her and handled her, and the thought that I 'd
been naked in such close proximity to such a desirable
naked girl, that the tattooist's touch was too much -
I shot a big load down the length of the table.

The tattooist just laughed, and went back to work.  He
didn't even make any attempt to clean it up.

It hurt just as much as he continued, and Matt came
back just as if it all seemed to be over.  Matt came
and looked down at me, and complimented the tattooist
on his work.

"Fantastic!", I heard him say.  "You've even managed
to get the spacing the same as it is on the sweat
shirts!  If we had flesh-coloured sweat shirts, no one
would ever be able to tell the difference between one
of us wearing them and this boy's back now!   But what
about all the blood?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll swab it with a
disinfectant in a moment, and then it will ooze
gradually for a few hours - just keep him away from
anything that he might stain.  But by tomorrow
morning, it will all be dry."

"Will he be able to swim?  He's got to be able to
work!"

"Oh sure, especially if it's in the sea.  All that
salt water's good as an aid to healing wounds.  He'll
wince a bit as he goes in, but it will help."

Matt was still looking at me as I lay there, then I
became aware of him putting a hand on my ass, and
groping around a bit.

"What's this?  It looks a bit like cum...."

"Yes.  Your boy shot a load whilst he was lying there.
 Pretty disgusting  - you ought to have had him
de-spunk himself before you brought him in."

"I suppose it was the sight of that slave girl!  He's
only 24, and his dick's still in control!  You know
how young guys are."

"Do you allow him to fuck women, then?  I know he's
got a good body, but do they really want to breed
these huge big strong types?  I thought the new
breeding programmes were going to breed smaller, more
compact, more easily manageable slaves."

"No!  He's not fucked anything since he was a slave,
although he is a breeder - he claims he has a couple
of kids.  And his pedigree from the dealers says that
he's shooting live swimmers, so he could do so, I
guess.  But there's no way anyone would want to breed
him to their girls, as you say. And his chances of
finding a free woman who wanted a tumble in bed with
something that big are nil - I should know:  look at
me!  I try to get off with everything in skirts, and
it's not done me any good in at least a year."

"Well, if you ask me, it's not right to have these
slaves roaming around just waiting to cover everything
in their cum.  I'm in favour of Proposition 87, that
will have all male slaves neutered.   Responsible
owners ought to have it done anyway, and we shouldn't
have to pass laws about it...."

"Well, you're entitled to your opinion!  But I'm not
having this guy's balls cut off unless I have to.  I
still remember what it was like to be hot and horny
and 24, and I can understand why he shot, having seen
that girl in here earlier - any red-blooded man would.
 No, he probably just couldn't help it.  And, anyway,
if he was neutered, as you call it, he wouldn't be
nearly so good in bed - I like a big load of cum
shooting over me, don't you, when you bed a guy?"

"Well, I guess so.... But if you had his balls snipped
off, you could still fuck him.  And they say that
providing you watch the diet and so on, they don't
turn to fat....  Of course, if you like the slave to
fuck you, then I suppose that's a different problem -
do you take it up your ass from him?"

"Watch it! I think you've gone far enough.  Do I look
like the sort of guy who'd lie there and take it from
a slave?"

"Hey, bud... Sorry!  I didn't mean to be rude. I know
some guys like to have a slave fuck them, though, as
they can order them to do it just the way they like
it... They...."

"Shut the fuck up, now!  I don't take it from slaves,
OK?  Now, get this slave free, as I want to get back.
And send me the bill to the office."

"I usually get cash...."

"This slave is a legitimate business asset, used in
running my business.  This is advertising expenditure.
 Either way, I can deduct the cost from my profits
before I pay those leeches in Washington.  So send me
a bill!"

Matt and the tattooist untied me, and I got up and
stretched.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror,
and there, right across my shoulders and running right
down my back, was the same legend as appeared on the
sweat shirt I'd been wearing: "Matt James Marine,
Seatown - Boats For Hire - Services For Owners."
They'd turned me into some sort of fucking living
billboard!

Matt allowed me to put my shorts on, but wouldn't let
me wear my sweat shirt as he reminded me of what the
tattooist had said about the blood weeping out.  "And,
anyway, you don't need it now - it's not that cold,
and you're carrying the message I want the folks to
see!"

I had to ride in the back of the pick up, of course,
as Matt didn't want people to see him letting me ride
up front So I sat there in the cold, hunched up,
hating what had been done to me.  How could Matt have
had me marked like this?  I knew enough about it to
know that it's possible to remove small tattoos with
lasers, or, rather, kind of cover them up and make
them much less visible.  But there was no way
something this big, covering my entire shoulders and
back, would ever go away - I was marked for life, and
would spend the rest of my days being an advertisement
for fucking Matt James!  I was so cross, that if Matt
had been there,  I think it would have been difficult
to avoid throwing a punch at him.

We got back to Seatown and the weather was still
miserable and there weren't any customers, so Matt
spent the rest of the afternoon chatting away to the
other fishermen - getting their latest gossip, and
working out a few little side deals he had:  who he'd
direct people to who wanted a skippered boat rather
than self-hire, and the commission he'd get - that
sort of thing.  He made me follow him around, and got
a lot of pleasure from hearing all the comments from
the men about my "advert" - they all thought it was
really neat, the way Matt had decided to use me to
publicise his business.  Jase, the skipper who'd gone
out to the doctor's boat, couldn't take his eyes off
me.

"Hey, Matt - that's a stroke of fucking genius!  All
the women, and most of the men, want to look at that
slave of yours, he's so bloody gorgeous!  And giving
them your advert to read lets them pretend they're
looking at him in order to read it!  Stroke of fucking
genius - you let them get a thrill from looking at
him, and they can spend a long time whilst they're
reading, and the longer they spend, the more your name
gets known!"

The laughing and joking went on, and all I could do
was stand there whilst the guys ran their hands over
my new tattoos.  Some of them, of course, cupped my
dick through the thin nylon of my shorts - I'd noticed
they liked to touch me a lot, in general,  and said
things like "Have his dick tattooed next week - then
they'd ALL want to spend time reading it!"

Matt invited Jase and his brother Sam back for a
drink, and all four of us went back to the house.
Jase and Sam were really remarkably alike - I'd heard
that Jase was the elder by a year, and at 32 and 33,
they were in good shape - they were purely working
fishermen, and didn't do tourist things at all - they
just took their boat out every day, and worked hard
hauling in the lobster pots and trawling for scallops.
 The sun, the weather, and the manual labour made them
look incredibly fit, and you almost always saw them
around together.

They sat around with beers, and I just had to stand in
the kitchen, as Matt didn't believe in giving slaves
alcohol.  After two or three each, they started
talking about food.

"Come on, Matt - cook us something.  Our wives are
away on a trip together, and Sam and me will starve",
Jase said.

"No, I'm too fucking tired tonight - I've had a heavy
day.  Whilst this slave was being tattooed, I went and
had a look at what was on offer in the fuck shop - and
I was tempted!"

"Well, I suppose that when an old guy like you has
sex, it does tire him out!  What was he like?"

"He?", Matt laughed, as Jase was clearly joking, "You
mean 'her'!  If I wanted a 'he', I've always got Steve
here, and there'd be no need to waste my money.  No,
she was a  nice little piece of ass, about 28, been a
slave for five years, so she really knew the ropes.
We did this one thing that I haven't done since I was
about your age.  No... I don't suppose you two have
EVER done what I did this afternoon.... You need a
really big guy like me, and a neat little woman.  And
you guys are pretty average.... And your wives...
Well, they're not exactly tiny, are they?"

Sam and Jase both smiled at each other.  Sam then
spoke.  "Well, we've still got to eat.  Send your
slave out to fetch pizza, or something.  What's the
point of having a slave if you don't use him."

"Oh, I use him all right!", Matt chuckled.  "But it's
easier just to call up as usual and get them to
deliver.  If we send the slave, there's always the
possibility he'll scrounge something off them -
yesterday's waste scraps, or something.  I'm starving
him a bit, and I have to watch him!  You guys seem to
think that slave owning is all easy, but, I tell you,
it needs working at."

They debated a bit what pizza they wanted, and phoned
for it.  I wasn't ordered any, and Matt told Jase and
Sam that it was "a waste" to spend money on takeaway
for slaves, when there was a much cheaper substitute
that you just bought in bulk at the market."

The pizzas came, and the guys all had another beer as
they ate.  Matt told me to open a can of slave chow,
and I stood there, spooning it down.  Sam and Jase
were really interested, and even insisted on trying a
mouthful!

"So", Matt said as they all sprawled around on the
sofa after eating. "How long are the girls away for."

"Just until the end of the week.  They wanted to go
off to a high school reunion, and we can't leave,
obviously, just as the season starts.", Sam told him.

"So you're on your own!  Just like the old days,
before you were married!"

Jase and Sam exchanged looks with each other. Jase
went on  "Yes.  We're close all the time, of course,
always have been.  Working on that boat, it bonds you
together.  And with only a year between us...."

"But tell us more about the uses you do put the slave
to, if you don't use him to fetch pizza", Sam cut in.

"Well, he's useful around the house, of course.  And
you've seen him working the boats in the harbour."

"Useful in what way?  Does he do cleaning?  Can we
borrow him to clean up before our wives get back?"
Both Jase and Sam laughed at their own joke.

"Well, I don't use him much for housework - he's a bit
big to sweep into all the corners... Like me!  But he
does have other uses.  The sort of thing you guys are
probably missing with your ladies away for a week...."

Jase and Sam exchanged glances at each other again.
"You mean... "

Matt winked at them.  "You guys have been here before.
 How many beds are there in this house?  Where do you
think I have him sleep every night?"

"It sounds like us", Sam said. "Doesn't seem to be any
point in dirtying two houses, so I've moved in with
Jase whilst the ladies are away.  It's just like the
old days, when we both lived together at home.  We
only had one bed, too."

The beer must have been taking hold, as Matt and the
two men were getting louder and bolder as this
conversation went on.

"So did you two young men do the same sorts of things
with each other in your one bed, as I do in mine?"

"Depends on what YOU do!", Jase said quickly, laughing
shrilly to hide some sort of embarrassment.

Matt looked at them.  "Well, guys, let's just say that
there are some things that an owner of a slave like
this one, a big strong buck, will naturally want to do
with him.   Hey, Steve, get over here."

With a heavy heart, I went over and stood in front of
the three half-drunk men.

"Take off those shorts, and let Sam and Jase have a
good look at you.  Then let's see if they can guess
what I use you for..."

I undid the button on my waistband, and the shorts
fell to the floor.

"Jesus fucking Christ", Jase said.  "Look at the size
of the dick on him!"

"Show our guests, Steve.  Le them see it in all it's
glory...."

I reached down, and started to jerk myself off.
Strangely, after all I'd been through in the past, I
felt my dick get hard as I slid my foreskin backwards
and forwards, and soon I was totally erect in front of
them.

"A-fucking-mazing!", Jase went on.

Matt was fumbling at his jeans, and we all watched as
he pulled  them out from under him and let them fall
to the floor around his feet as he sat there.

"He's not the only one with a big dick, you know....
How's this....?"

Jase leaned over and touched Matt's dick, and slid his
fingers experimentally up and down the shaft.

"Nice one, Matt - I bet you and the slave have some
horny times...."

"You bet!  But what about you, Jase?  That bulge there
- it doesn't look as if you've got one of those
asparagus dicks!"

Eyes shining,  and clearly excited and not wanting to
be seen to be less of a man than Matt and me, Jase
shuffled and his jeans fell to the floor, too.  His
belly was flat and manly, and from between his lithe
muscular thighs a well-proportioned dick reached for
the sky from its nest of curly pubic hair.

Matt reached over, and stroked it appreciatively.

Jase looked at Sam"  "Come on, little brother - show
Matt that it runs in the family..."

Sam let his jeans slide down, and his similarity to
his brother extended to the dick department, too.
Matt reached out and then he had one hand on each
brother's dick.  He started to jerk them off, gently,
as Jase continued to play with him.

Matt hadn't told me what to do, and I was still
stroking myself as I watched the two brothers and Matt
pleasuring each other.

Matt stopped though, and murmured "I'm not being a
very good host though, am I?  You two guys must be
tired of jerking off, with your wives away.  Do you
like oral?"

It was Jase who replied  "Of course we do!  You don't
think Sam and I spent all our time just jerking off
when we were growing up, do you?"

Matt looked at me, and looked tough.  I knew what was
coming, and I hated the idea.  I thought about
shouting "no", but knew that Matt would be shamed in
front of the two fishermen as they'd tell all the
others that he couldn't control his slave properly.
"On your knees, Steve, and come and pleasure my
guests.   Remember all those things I've taught you
about how to suck a man's dick...."

I wished he hadn't done it.  It had been fun lying in
bed at night with Matt, and somehow it had seemed
natural for a couple of guys to be jerking each other
off, and then to move on to sucking.  But this - being
made to go down on to strangers.  It wasn't right to
make a slave do this.

Matt continued to look at me, and I knew a lot was at
stake.  Dare I disobey him?  Was there any way that I
could not suck these dicks and not shame Matt?  No.

I got to my knees, and knelt in front of Matt.
Resting my hands on his powerful thighs, I bent
forward and took his familiar dick into my mouth, and
started to tease him with my tongue, in the way he'd
taught me.  As the familiar scent of his pubes and the
taste of his dick filled me, I almost forgot the two
brothers who were watching us, and soon my mouth was
full of Matt's cum.

Matt had one hand either side of my face, and pushed
me gently up off his dick.  "Good boy.... Now
Jase...."

I hated the idea.  I couldn't suck another man's dick
- I wasn't a fag!

"Go on, boy, go down on him..."

With a feeling of nausea building inside me, I moved
over and knelt in front of Jase as he sat there.
Again, I rested my hands lightly on his thighs, and I
felt the difference between him and Matt - he wasn't
so muscular, but his thighs were lean and lithe, and
his wiry hair gave my palms a faint tingling
sensation.  I was a bit surprised that I'd notice this
difference - it was as if I'd started to notice men
properly.  Surely, this couldn't be me?

I bowed my head, and the scent of his pubes came to me
- that scent that I now know all men have down there:
so strong, so powerful.  It was different from Matt,
but recognisably the same.

I parted my lips, put out my tongue, and licked gently
at Jase's shaft.  He moaned quietly, and I moved
further forward to take more of him into me.  It was
good!  Again, I was so surprised - I'd expected to be
disgusted at the thought of sucking Jase, but once I'd
felt his silky softness in my mouth, it was fine!  I
did all the things that Matt had taught me to do,
running my tongue up and down Jase's shaft, taking as
much of him into my mouth as I could, playing my
tongue tip over his piss slit, and even leaving his
dick completely to gently take his balls into my
mouth.  That wasn't so good, actually - Matt shaved
himself there, and I was used to having a soft, silky
ball sac with the balls lying inside easily touchable.
 Jase didn't shave, and the thick black pubic hair was
horrible in my mouth.  When you're sucking a guy's
balls though, as I'm sure you know, your nose is
pressed right into his pubes, and the scent of Jase
was overpowering.

I went back to teasing his dick head with my tongue
and nibbling gently at his flange, and then doing
something that Matt always liked - I held his shaft
gently with one hand, and wiped his dick head all over
my cheeks. My thick black stubble would, I know, be
sending little quivers of discomfort and pleasure
through Jase, and I heard his groaning get louder and
he started to pant and gasp audibly.

Almost as soon as I put his dick back in my mouth I
could taste his pre cum, and then he shouted out loud
as my mouth filled with his load of spunk.  I
swallowed it,  as Matt had taught me to do, and
carried on nibbling and licking at him, oh so gently,
in case he was a sensitive guy.

Hey, I though, that wasn't bad!  I could see that
there was a lot of fun to be got from sucking a guy
off, and not just from having it done to me.  I guess
my pleasure with Matt had been kind of "mutual", but
I'd enjoyed the taste and feel of Jase, and having him
totally in my power as I brought him to orgasm was a
fantastic feeling.

Without being told, I shuffled along and knelt in
front of Sam.

"No fucking way, slave!", he snapped.  Jase and Matt
looked surprised, and Matt said

"Hey, Sam.. No problem.  There's no shame attached to
not wanting to do guy things.... I think the slave
thought you were ready as you were sporting that
hard-on..."

Sam stood up, and his dick was jutting up so hard that
it was almost parallel with his body - he looked to be
in great shape, and ready for it, to me!

"Matt, don't be such a fuck head.  Of course I want
sex - what guy doesn't?  But Jase will tell you that I
like it a bit more.... robust, shall we say."

"Sorry, Sam, but you can't fuck the slave.  He's a
virgin, and I need to keep him that way."

"No, Matt - I'd like his ass, once you've taken his
cherry  - you can sign me up for it!  But I don't like
to lie here passively and let the slave take my cum -
I want to pump it down his throat.  Can I take him
properly down the throat?  I know what I'm doing - ask
Jase!"

Jase was looking kind of embarrassed.  "He's right,
Matt - he does like to be really 'active' - always
has.  Folks always think that because I'm the elder
brother I must have started fucking Sam.  But it was
he who first came home from school and started fucking
me:  we'd just jerked each other off before then, like
all brothers do.   But some of the seniors introduced
him to being rather more active... And since then it's
always been him who's made the running... And he does
like to play rough.  But, I can tell you, he's an
expert.  Your slave will find it an 'interesting'
experience, but Sam has never done any permanent harm
to me or any of the other guys he's gone with.  And it
will really turn us on to watch."

"I didn't realise you guys still had an active sex
life."

"Sure - we didn't for a couple of years when we were
first married, but when our wives were both pregnant,
we were frustrated as hell and so we got back
together.  And we've never really stopped since then.
And, you know how it is - there's a lot of
good-looking guys come here, especially in the Summer,
and if the girls are away Sam and I usually fix up a
threesome, or a four way.  We always play together,
though - we are brothers, after all."

"Don't your wives mind?"

"Hey, come on!  Don't ask, don't tell, that's the way
we play it.  We satisfy them properly of course, like
a lot of married men.  But once a week, and when
they're away, we have proper sex.  There's no need to
bust up our marriages just because we like proper sex,
is there?"

"You know", he went n, "We've often thought of asking
you to join us - you've got a good body, and we'd
always thought you were well hung.  It's ironic that
you had to wait until you got that slave, before you
asked us...."

"Hey, Jase", Sam cut in.  "Cut the social niceties
crap, will you?  I'm about to shoot my load, standing
here and looking at that slave, and I want to really
fuck him."

"Sam, I said no fucking...", Matt told him again.

"No - not up the ass.  I want to really fuck his
throat. None of this nice genteel sucking and
caressing for me:  I really rape a guy's throat.  And
I NEED it, and I need it NOW!"

End Of Part 8