Date: Fri, 25 Aug 2006 07:26:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf@yahoo.com>
Subject: Master Chats: My Former Best Buddy

MASTER CHAT:
MY FORMER BEST BUDDY


By Master Redbeard


"Bob" is a prominent attorney and friend to many in the upper echelons of
the slave trading community. He has kept a record of his Instant Messenger
chats with many of his friends and clients, but has deleted his own
comments from these transcribed conversations. He has changed names and
locations or removed names where appropriate.


Bob's Statement: "I'm releasing these chats to counterbalance the recent
spate of sentimentalist BS supposed-enslavement stories, most of which
paint the owner or slave trader in a harsh and negative light. This may be
an incendiary statement, but I suspect that some of our most prominent
slave story writers may be closet abolitionists! How is it possible that
slavery enjoys such a high level of support among the American people and
yet the public sees any man who enslaves a younger family member as some
sort of ogre? It's time the public heard the unfiltered comments of the men
who have contributed so much to our way of life by adding prime young stock
to our enslaved population."


(If it's illegal for you to read stories involving homosexual acts or if
you're offended by stories that include family or dominance-submission
scenarios, please go away now. If you can't distinguish reality from
fantasy, please leave and get help asap.)


Credit to my favorite cyberpartner, Will18 - he gave me the outline for the
story and he's the reason so many younger brothers in my stories are named
"Will!"


If you want to contact me please include the title of the story in the
email title line. Flames ignored. Redbeardedsf at yahoo dot com.)


-------------------- A MASTER CHATS WITH BOB: MY FORMER BEST BUDDY


By Master Redbeard


I hope you're well. Sorry to say, I'm not. I don't need your
sympathy. Given the way I've led my life I don't expect sympathy from many
people. Even my doctor laughed and said that when a man as rich as I am is
dying of cancer that's proof that there really isn't a cure. I bet that
doctor is crying his eyes out over the fees he won't be able to charge once
I'm dead!


Why should I have any regrets? I've indulged myself throughout my life. And
now I'm provided with enough painkillers that I don't usually know what
planet I'm on. No, I woke up this morning and chose not to take any
painkillers. At least not until after I finish my business with you. I want
it known that any business I have with you is being done with a clear mind.


My heirs will definitely try to get this overturned. Actually, I'm hoping
some of those blowhards keel over with heart attacks when they hear that
I've left a few billion dollars to the Slave Defense Fund.


Yes, obviously that group goes against everything I've stood for all my
life. In fact I've considered those do-gooders a thorn in my side and in
the side of every decent slave trader in this country - always trying to
root out corruption or to prove that this or that slave was indentured
illegally. But let's just say I need to do this one thing before I die. I
suppose I do have one regret. I want to tell you the story and maybe you'll
have a better suggestion of how I could make amends.


Maybe this is a deathbed confession. Yes, I suppose it is - though I hate
to be a clich^Î. Most certainly I'm on my deathbed. I certainly don't plan
on lingering and letting nature take its course for the next few
months. I'm thinking this coming Tuesday night would be a good time to
die. Tuesday will be the 50th anniversary of a car accident that changed my
life. That's what I want to tell you about.


If a client comes right out and tells you that he did something illegal, as
a lawyer you're required to report that, right? That's why you lawyers are
always so careful to warn us about what we tell you. I know the way it
works. So it's Friday now. If I were to tell you about something illegal I
did you would need to report that on Monday. Nobody in the court would even
see it till later in the week. If it's something that happened years ago it
could languish in the court system for months. I know the way it works.


Actually it was my father that did something illegal. But by not saying
anything I was certainly complicit. It's the sort of heinous act that
members of my family would never... well, if we knew someone was guilty of
false enslavement, we would shun that person from society. Yes, I said,
false enslavement. I know it's just about the most serious charge you could
bring against a free man.


This story is actually about my best buddy from high school. His name was
Matt and he excelled in just about every way: wavy light brown hair, strong
cheekbones and jaw, and yet soft eyes and lips. That boy's shoulders and
chest were something to behold even as a young teen. He was the star of
just about every sport at school. Plus he was a top-notch student. Captain
of the football team and captain of the debating team at the same time.


Yes, it does sound like I was in love with him. I guess I had a schoolboy
crush. I don't mind telling you that I've always preferred the company of
males and the bodies of males. I married and had an heir and a spare, just
as I was expected to do. But I never made any secret of my predilections.


Of course I didn't flaunt my sexual preferences in high school. I was as
fake macho as the rest of them and I had girlfriends - all the usual. But
at home I always wanted to get my dick into some nice slave boy. My father
was the one who introduced me to those pleasures. No, my father and I never
had sex together. Don't be crude. But we certainly saw each other in
action, sometimes even spit roasting a slave boy from both ends and then
trading holes midway.


But I was trying to tell you about Matt. At that time my school had a
limited number of students on scholarship. Most of us were from the right
sort of families, but they let in a few students who were truly exceptional
and gave those boys a free ride. Matt's parents were both schoolteachers
and his father was also some sort of coach.


Of course there were some students who wouldn't associate with the
scholarship boys. To be quite frank, during freshman year, my father
objected to me forming a friendship with "some boy from the working
classes" as he put it. But when I brought Matt home on a holiday weekend,
my father just melted. He became as big a fan of Matt as I was. My dad and
I talked quite openly about sex and, well, both of us were quite hot for
Matt.


During the next few years I tried everything I could to get Matt to fool
around. I managed to jerk off with half the boys in my class and get a good
number of them to sixty-nine with me. But Matt just never took the bait. I
would talk to him about masturbation and how "wouldn't it be nice to feel
another hand on your dick for a change," and he would just laugh and
pretend I was joking.


Matt would never even take me up on an offer of a slave boy's mouth and
when I had a slave boy suck me in front of him he just slipped out of the
room to "give us privacy." I tried to get him into games of strip poker or
truth or dare, but nothing worked. One problem, he never drank. I always
felt if only I could have gotten Matt drunk everything would have been just
lovely.


It was spring break of our senior year. Yes, just this time of year. Matt
was staying here at the estate. I was going to be leaving that stupid
school in a matter of weeks and I decided that I didn't care any longer
about being discreet.


Matt was lying in bed still asleep one of the last mornings of our break. I
was standing over him and watching his wonderful smooth chest rise and
fall. I peeled back the blanket and saw that he had a boner in his white
briefs. Fuck it! I just went for what I wanted. I got down beside the bed
and started to work my mouth around his erection through the white cotton
of the underpants. My mouth was watering.


I pulled his dick out of one of the legs of his briefs and swallowed it
down. Nice foreskin pulled back behind a mushroom head and my mouth was
filled with pre-cum. Matt was groaning and I was slurping up and
down. Reached my fingers into the leg band and played with his balls. I was
in heaven.


When Matt started stirring I just kept at it. But then I felt his hand on
my head. He pushed me away, sat bolt upright in bed and gasped. Then he
pulled away from me and wrapped the blanket around his body
protectively. He jumped off the bed like I had the plague or something and
he had the strangest look in his eyes.


By that time I didn't want to play any games. I just looked up at him and
said, "Oh, c'mon, Matt, you must have known how much I've wanted to do
that." I mean I had never come out and told him I was gay, but as senior
year progressed I stopped making such an effort to talk about girls and to
play all that macho crap.


He blushed and looked away from me and was saying how he suspected that I
was "that way" but that he always wanted to believe otherwise. He kept on
saying how he was totally heterosexual, how he could never have sex with
another guy.


So I said, "You have to admit that blowjob I was giving you felt real
nice. I know your dick liked it." By that point I would've been happy just
to suck him off. He told me that once he knew it was me that the idea of
any dick being in a any man's mouth just turned his stomach. Then he ran
into the bathroom and threw up. Hell, you'd think it was him that was
swallowing all that pre-cum.


That's not all. Once he came out of the bathroom he was all wrapped up in a
towel. He didn't want me to see him in his underpants! I told him he was
crazy. I had seen his naked body thousands of times over the previous four
years. I had seen him in the shower and undressing dozens of times that
very week. But he said now that he knew I had those sorts of thoughts about
him that he just couldn't bear the thought of me seeing his body. Hell, he
didn't even want me looking at his chest.


We had a big party that night. He assured me that he would act perfectly
normal with me at the party and wouldn't let on to anyone at school what
had happened. Like he was doing me some big fuckin' favor!


By that time I was more pissed off at Matt than I knew I could be. I had a
chat with my dad about the whole thing. That's the nice part of being open
about sex with your dad, I could tell him about anything. He seemed more
pissed off than I was and he muttered about "that's what happens when they
let riff-raff into our better schools."


So Matt and I went to the party that night. I was driving my classic
Jaguar. Well, the car was more than sixty years old at the time. I mean the
chassis and outer body was the original old car - naturally it was all
digitized equipment under the old hood. And of course I was drinking
heavily. I have some vague recollection of Matt not wanting to get into the
car with me after the party. He was trying to get the keys from me and I
was yelling things about just leaving him there. The Jaguar was downhill so
nobody from the party actually saw which of us was driving when we
left. That turned out to be a crucial thing.


I have no recollection of what happened. But apparently I drove the car
into the front gate of the estate, smashed the whole front of the Jaguar
and completely smashed one of my legs. Yes, you'd never know it now. Ah,
the wonders of micro-surgery and the availability of tendons and bones and
other spare parts from slaves. But I was kept in an induced coma for about
five months after the accident so I wouldn't have to experience the pain.


When they finally brought me out of the coma, I had no idea so much time
had passed. Of course they didn't bring me out of the coma until the pain
from my leg was pretty well gone. Machines had kept the muscles exercised,
but I needed to learn to walk again.


But the thing is when I came out of the coma, I opened my eyes and there
was my father standing with his hands on his hips and his erection sticking
out of his fly. Matt was on his knees dressed in just white briefs. And my
father's thick cock was sliding in and out of Matt's mouth. My father
grinned at me in the hospital bed and said, "His lips really are soft,
son." You don't forget something like that as the first words when you wake
up from a coma.


Honestly, I thought I was dreaming. That's the only way I could make sense
of the scene in front of me. I was still feeling hazy from waking up and
Matt's slave collar and ID number didn't register right away.


My father pulled his dick out of Matt's mouth and turned the nearly naked
hunk to face me. Then my dad pulled back the blanket and commanded,
"Pleasure your young master's dick, slave boy."


Matt looked up into my face, tears filling his eyes, and whispered,
"Please, Billy, don't do this to me." Well of course my father flew into an
absolute rage. He pulled down the back of Matt's briefs and started
smacking the boy's ass. Matt was begging him to stop and apologizing and
asking forgiveness.


That was the point when I knew it was no dream. This was really happening
in front of me. I didn't understand how this situation had come about. But
clearly Matt was a slave. And let me tell you, my cock was hard as a
spike. I didn't even have the strength to grab that beautiful new slave by
the neck, but I grunted, "Suck my dick!"


My dad was right. Those lips were the softest and most tender things that
ever pressed around my boner. Just the site of that handsome athlete
deepthroating me was enough to make me pop. Damn, I had lost months of my
life. So as far as I was concerned it was just the previous day that Matt
had thrown up from the very thought of my mouth on his cock.


As if he read my mind my father started telling me how rough it had been to
train Matt's throat. Then my father started fingering my former buddy's
butthole and told me that he hadn't put more than three fingers up Matt's
ass. "I left the ass for you, son. I knew it would be special."


Matt was sobbing as he sucked me and I could feel his tears fall into my
pubes. In my weakened state my dad helped me out by pushing down on the
back of the new slave's head when I spurted my load down his throat.


I fucked Matt's ass for the first time two days later. I had him tied on
his back with his legs up to his shoulders. I wanted to be able to look
into his face. I wanted to be able to kiss his mouth. Oh, I think that was
the worst for him - getting tongue kissed by a guy. Of course there was
plenty of pain from opening up his ass. But I think Matt could deal with
physical pain better than he could deal with humiliation.


My father simply refused to tell me the story of how Matt got enslaved. So
one day I ordered Matt to tell me the story. I had to reassure him three
times that he had permission to speak freely before he would begin.


Matt told me that I had been driving the car after the party. I knew that
of course. He said that the computer controls on the car had kept us safe
getting home but that then I took it off computer when we neared the estate
and I drove too fast and slammed into the gate. He said I was thrown from
the car, my leg crushed pretty badly, and I was unconscious. Meanwhile,
Matt was pretty much OK with just a few scratches on him. He ran to the
house to inform my father what had happened.


In the story Matt told me, my father insisted that he have something to
drink right after the accident. Even though Matt never drank alcohol my
father was very insistent that he needed hard liquor to calm his
nerves. Matt told me that he quickly felt very drunk. He figured it was
because he wasn't used to drinking. I figured it was because my father had
spiked the drink.


Matt then told me that he woke up in police custody. Apparently my father
had told the cops that Matt had been driving the car, not me. Of course the
police found alcohol in his blood, but they also found some sedatives. Matt
didn't understand how that could have happened. Well, I know my father, so
I know how it happened.


At that point Matt tried to tell the cops that he hadn't been driving the
car, but they just beat him whenever he made those claims. After all, my
father was the richest and most powerful man in the county. The cops were
already treating Matt like he was on his way to being enslaved. In fact,
the cops started making him give them handjobs. They used one of those
old-fashioned devices that hold a slave's mouth open and jerked off into
his mouth giving him his first taste of cum. Apparently they kept their
hands off his ass because they didn't want to risk pissing off my dad by
taking a new slave's cherry.


And all this happened because my father had told a lie. Matt's family was
sued because of my injury. And Matt was enslaved.


OK, what would you have done at that point? If I revealed the fact that I
had been driving the car, Matt would have been freed. But then my father
would have been charged with false enslavement. Even back in those days,
the mandatory sentence for that crime was enslavement. To save my former
best buddy I would have ended up destroying my father, his fortune, and our
entire family. So I ask you, what would you have done?


I told Matt that if he ever again made such reckless charges against a free
man, I would remove his balls and his vocal chords - without any
anesthetic. He just bowed his head and said, "Yes, Master."


Now what would I have done if there had been some way to free Matt without
getting my father in trouble? I honestly don't know how to answer that
question. At that point I began using Matt for sex constantly. I took a
year off and didn't start college till the following fall, so I was pretty
much a bum with plenty of free time. I spent a lot of that free time with
my dick in one of Matt's holes.


Just as soon as I was out of the coma and back on the estate my father took
off for a long cruise to the Caribbean. Oh, I didn't tell you that
part. Apparently the judgment against Matt's family was so large that we
also took possession of Matt's younger brother. Well, my dad took
possession anyway. Really cute kid named Will. He was like a smaller
version of Matt. In fact he looked so much like his big brother had looked
back when I first met Matt years before. I'm pretty sure Will had applied
for the same scholarship that Matt had been on to attend our school a year
later. But that was never going to happen now that he was enslaved. Yes,
the Caribbean was very popular at that time. That was before Florida
changed its laws.


So I had the run of the estate. I had lots of parties and really enjoyed
showing off Matt. There were a couple of really queeny boys back at my
school. I had never associated with them. I preferred my gay guys
masculine. But I had these boys over to the estate, just so they could
humiliate our school's former sports star.


Back at school, any of these boys would've given half their inheritance for
a chance to suck Matt's dick or have him play husband and get on top of
them. But now that he was a slave, he was the one who had to get on his
knees or bend over the card table. Oh yeah, the card games with those
sissies! Matt would stay under the table so nobody had to get up when they
needed to pee.


This one prematurely balding boy was so skinny he looked like he'd blow
away with the first gust of wind, bad skin, unfortunate features, and a
high-pitched nasal voice that could only belong to a big nelly faggot. The
sight of our school's golden boy on his knees worshipping that skinny
homo's needle dick still brings a smile to my lips.


I taught Matt to say certain phrases during sex. At first he choked on
them, but you know how good punishment is to reinforce instructions. He
became real convincing. When I had some of his jock buddies over to the
house they watched me sex him up as he squealed, "I need your dick,
Billy... Use my ass like a pussy, Billy... I got a hot cunt for you,
Billy." I had trained Matt to the point where he had an erection during the
entire act. Once they saw that, the jocks pounced on him.


Gee, somewhere in the back of some shelf there's a video I took of his
former football team buddies slamming into Matt at both ends. They're
yelling things like, "We'll fill your cunt for you, girly." There's a
close-up where you can see the tears on Matt's face, but those brutes were
too busy fucking him to notice.


On that same tape we have Matt's circumcision. I did it myself. I didn't
even strap him down. I just used the football players to hold him firmly in
place. Some of those jocks were real pissed off about the amount of blood
that spurted. I don't know what they expected.


During that year I also started to make friends with many older men -
homosexual gentlemen in their fifties and sixties. I never had sex with any
of them that I can recall. But I'd always bring Matt around. I can't
explain what it was about that. Seeing Matt, who was so athletic and
youthful and handsome, the champion that everyone in our school had so
admired, being made to lick behind the balls of some gross old man who was
fat and out of shape. Why did that boy's humiliation get me so aroused?


To be quite honest, in spite of my age and my frail health, the very image
is exciting me even now as I write about it. Well, to be totally honest,
I'm looking at the image even as I write about it. I have a new slave boy
who's licking my balls as I lie here and type this to you. He's just 18 and
he is the exact image of Matt.


Naturally I began breeding Matt as soon as possible. It was great. We'd tie
up the wench and blindfold her with her legs spread and raised. Then we'd
blindfold Matt and cuff his hands to the back of his slave collar. Then I'd
slide Matt's cock into the wench. Before he could start fucking, I would
slide my own erection up Matt's butt. I was the one providing the fucking
motions that sent his seed to create a whole lot of new little Matts.


I also kept a good deal of Matt's sperm in storage. As years went on I
looked for wenches who were a close genetic match to Matt. But then of
course with our current genetic science I was able to take that a step
further. This hard-bodied beauty so busy licking my wrinkly old balls has
Matt's exact DNA.


Free this boy? What an absurd idea. The boy was born and bred to be a
slave. You know that it's impossible for bred slaves to adapt to free
life. No, it would be cruel to remove this boy from the only life he knows.


Oddly enough, thinking back to my participation in getting Matt enslaved,
perhaps I did a good turn? There are hundreds by now, literally hundreds of
slaves who've been bred using at least some of Matt's DNA. Think of all the
jism that's been spurted because men could possess a slave with that
wonderful athletic body and those handsome features.


Yes, I'm feeling better about the whole thing. In all these years, this is
the first time I'm telling the story. Good heavens, my old cock is actually
sticking up stiff now. I've got my newest Matt licking the cheese from
under my foreskin. Those lips are still the softest I've ever known. I know
my grandsons will appreciate that mouth - and they'll have years of use out
of all the other little Matts who are on their way.


In fact, I have enough of Matt's original sperm frozen that my grandson's
grandsons will be able to fuck perfect replicas of Matt as young and as
fresh as when Matt himself first came to visit this house. What a
delightful notion!


Slave Defense Fund? What ever made me think that was a good idea? Now that
I've told the story I know you'll have to report it to the court. That's
fine with me. I'll be dead before they ever read your report. And now that
I told that story I can die knowing I have no regrets - no regrets for
anything I've done in my life.


Matt? The original you mean? He was my body slave for many years. When I
got married my wife was a bit jealous. Well, after all, he was prettier
than she was - I married her for a company merger and not her face.


I sent Matt off as a gift to that prematurely-balding skinny sissy I had
known back at school. He had inherited his father's fortune and gone on to
become a major industrialist. I didn't realize at the time that the skinny
queen was a major partner in a big string of BDSM boy brothels. I believe
Matt ended up out of the country - it was either Southeast Asia or the
Arabian Peninsula.


I'm sure Matt is long gone. I kind of fancy my father's view of heaven. I
hope when I get there Matt is on his knees ready to service his master as
before with those soft lips.