Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2006 22:05:26 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: My New Slave, Part Three

MY NEW SLAVE  By Pete Brown.

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

Part  Three


As usually seems to happen, work intruded into my
enjoyment and training of my new slave.  Although I
try to spend as much time on my estate as possible and
am a major land and slave owner down there, with a
considerable income from the  "individually hand
tended and packed just for you" fruit and vegetables
that the slaves grow and carefully pack, my real
business is in Finance.  And that of course means that
I have to spend time in New York, Los  Angeles, and
very often London and Peking (I resent the political
correctness in re-titling places that have perfectly
usable names in English anyway..... We refer to Rome
and not Roma, after all, so why shouldn't we continue
to call the Chinese capital Peking?).  Many of my
neighbours think I "play" at farming, but that's far
from the truth: whilst the income is not necessary, it
does mean that my estate is totally self-financing and
I can afford to indulge in luxuries like Dan and
Steve, without even thinking about it.   Actually I
find that being a major investor in the new
agriculture gives me an insight into other areas of
our economy, and so I believe I'm better informed
about a whole variety of other areas in which I become
involved - for example, a financing decision about the
placement of a new industry, or the closing of a major
plant, can have a major impact on the availability of
slaves in the area because of the new laws that make
destitution enslavable.

However I digress - the important thing is that on
this particular occasion I needed to go to New York
for four days, and on these trips I do not take Steve.
He accompanies me to all the other places, of course,
as I like to keep in shape and it's so much more
convenient to have ones personal trainer along on the
trip (especially one who can double as a valet, and
who can provide sexual relief too).  Mind you, it's
always causing problems - I travel first class, as
you'd expect, and so only have to be at the airport
minutes before my flight, whereas although I might be
prepared to pay for a second such ticket for Steve,
it's just "not done" in the circles in which I move,
and he has to travel steerage, with its prolonged
check-in times.  And the British, in particular, can
be very difficult as they seem to find accepting that
a slave does not have a passport as he is just another
part of his owner's baggage hard to grasp, and we are
frequently held up at immigration.  However taking him
to New York is an unnecessary expense as I rarely have
the opportunity to exercise properly when I'm there,
as even with a big hunk like Steve accompanying me the
level of casual violence in the streets, except in the
most select areas, has become totally unacceptable - I
really don't understand why the enslavement laws there
are not more rigorously enforced, to rid the place of
the huge masses of the unemployed that the new economy
has created .  The major hotels try to accomodate
clients like me, of course, and their exercise
facilities are second to none, except that I find
running on a treadmill, or pushing against one of
those weight exercisers reminds me somewhat of a pet
hamster I had as a child, who futilely exercised
himself on his "wheel" - even the presence of the
hotel's personal training slaves, specially chosen for
their good looks and physique, doesn't really
compensate.

I took Steve aside as I was about to leave and told
him "Dan is your responsibility whilst I am away,
Steve."

A wolfish grin flitted across his face.  "Sir, yes,
sir!"

"No, Steve!  I do not mean by that that you are
allowed to fuck him!  His ass remains my playground,
at least for the time being.  If I find his ass has
been used when I return, I will punish you - at least
a caning.  You need to keep your dick out of him, and
make sure that he is not used by any of the other
slaves either - I know how they are all eager to use a
new slave here in the mansion, and I do not want that
to happen.  It's your responsibility - you can easily
protect him from the others, as they all fear you.
Treat him as you would a younger brother, and look
after him."

"You can keep him with you in your own kennel, as it
will do him good to get to know how the other slaves
live who are less fortunate than you who share my
quarters when I'm here".  I'd decided on this as I
also thought it would be a good bonding exercise for
the two of them - although Steve usually slept on the
floor at the foot of my bed, as you've learned, in my
absence he had his own "kennel" in the slave quarters
- a tiny space just big enough for a narrow bunk - and
making the two of them share that would introduce a
degree of bodily intimacy between them.

"There are a few things you can get done to him, too -
I want his ass and balls smoothly shaven, and his
pubes generally trimmed and tidied as they're an
unruly mass at the moment:  have much the same kind of
trim that you've had since you've been here, with that
neat patch above and around his dick and balls no more
than an inch long so his appearance is enhanced.  But
leave his head for the time being - I like the 'spiky'
look and don't want a proper crop on him as there is
on you."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"...and take him down to the blacksmith on the farm
and get him collared.  I'll let him have the loose
chain for the time being, as you have.  He needs to be
done this week, as otherwise we'll be breaking the
law.  Make sure it's not too tight, though, as he's
still growing and I expect his neck to thicken in the
next few months."   Readers will of course be aware
that all slaves must wear a collar, and the
newly-enslaved must have it fixed within the statutory
two weeks.  My niggas in the field coffles and the
workers in the packing sheds all have the standard
heavy iron collar riveted on as soon as they arrive,
as that's cheap, and the weight is a constant reminder
to them of their status.  Around the house though the
waiters and footmen and so on have a thinner, more
aesthetic band of stainless steel.  I allow a few very
favoured slaves like Steve to wear a collar made of
steel chain with fairly large links -  it's easier for
them, as there's absolutely no possibility of chafing
and the ugly sores that can despoil some slaves, and
of course for me it's good to be able to get at their
necks and throats during sex no nuzzle and bite.
Steve's own collar hung loosely at the base of his
neck, and was of very heavy links - these things have
to be properly proportioned, I find, as on a large
muscled slave like him a thin chain would look
ludicrous, and of course you need the weight to remind
him of his slavedom.  I quite enjoy fingering the
links after sex, pulling them away from his skin and
then letting them drop back on to him, as I know he
can feel their weight and the oppression that this
signals to him.  As an aside, I understand that at
colleges now they use slave collars as an example of
the operation of "the law of unintended consequences"
-  following their mandatory introduction for slaves,
the bottom dropped right out of a certain sections of
the jewellery market, as no man, or woman, would now
even consider wearing a necklace or gold chain,
however thin, around their necks!  Indeed, often the
only way you can tell that a man is a slave when
you're at a gym is the presence of a collar - at my
New York hotel, for example, some clients bring their
personal trainers and have them with only the tiniest
thin band around their throats:  personally, I think
that's really effete, and is typical of New York!

I saw Steve was itching to say something, so I raised
my eyebrows, to give him permission to speak.

"Shall I have the blacksmith brand him too, sir?  And
have him tattooed?"

"Not for the time being.  I wish to enjoy the
perfection of his body without feeling the brand when
I fondle his ass, or seeing his name every time I
twist his tits."

I saw Steve looking disappointed, if not jealous, and
went on "...and stop looking like that!  I don't
stroke your ass, you know that, as it's too big and
muscled."

"I do want you to exercise him, though, Steve.  He's
evidently looked after himself and was a star on the
college soccer team I believe, but he's at that point
where a young guy really finally develops his body.  I
don't want a muscle god - I want nice long, lithe
muscles.  If I was to characterise it, I'd say I want
a frisky colt, rather than a solid work horse like
you.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!  So I can exercise and train him...."

"Yes.  You both need something to occupy yourselves
and keep yourselves out of mischief.  Really work his
body, Steve."

That same wolfish grin flickered for a moment - Steve
really is too transparent!  "...but Steve, remember
what I said about his ass.  And I don't want you to
fuck his throat, either - that's something  I want to
teach him.  You can suck his dick if you want to, but
you are not to force him to suck yours!"

"...so if he offers to do it, sir, that's OK?"

"...provided there's not the slightest hint of
coercion!  If I question him and find you've forced
his lips around your dick, it will be the cane for
you."

"...and what about jerking off, sir?"

I thought for a moment.  "Oh, that's fine.  With two
of you in the same kennel it's hard to see how you'd
avoid that - and there's never any harm in two mature
men having a bit of mutual jerking off."

"...even if there's 'coercion', sir?  I know you say
there's no harm in it, but in the barracks we always
found the new recruits were nervous and didn't want to
join in until we 'encouraged' them..."

"Steve, Dan's a young, healthy guy.  When you were his
age I bet you couldn't keep that dick of yours down.
I don't think you'll need to  'encourage' him to jerk
off as there's nowhere else he can do it in the slave
quarters except in your kennel.  Just don't be violent
with him - when you feel him doing it, reach over and
take over.... That kind of thing.  And make sure he
gets to know the sort of strokes you like, too... Most
guys only have one way of doing it, and a slave like
Dan needs to learn to be flexible."

There was a real grin on Steve's face now.  "Sir, yes,
sir!"

"Oh, and you can start to get him a bit tanned - I
don't like that big stark white area around his ass
and thighs from those absurd long shorts he must have
worn.  But I don't want him scared or humiliated - no
making him run around the place naked or anything -
but you can spend time exercising at the pool and then
it's natural for him to be bare-assed."

"Now remember, Steve, he's your responsibility.
Pretend he's one of your new recruits that you're
looking after.  I want him exercised, a bit of natural
jerking off together is fine, but not much else,
understand?  Pretend he's your brother.  Pretend he's
a son of mine I asked you to get in shape.  That's how
you're to behave with him, or else there will be
trouble for you."

He nodded in understanding, and said "Sir, yes, sir",
again, and I got into the car and was driven off to
the airport.

______________________________

My business took me an unexpectedly long time in New
York and I was away for more than the four days I had
planned.  The other members of the consortium that was
considering the major project we had been asked to
finance were more reluctant than I to take risks -
well, I suppose they did not have the life of an
estate owner to fall back on if things went wrong!  So
my trip extended over the weekend, and into the middle
of the following week.

Although my hotel has excellent slaves in the gym they
did not have the deftness of touch that Steve has in
"driving" me to do my best, and the slaves I had sent
up from the pleasure room to my suite were perfect in
every way physically and totally compliant in taking
part in whatever sexual episode I suggested, all of
them lacked that "something".   One of the huge
advantages of having slaves is of course that they can
just be ordered to do what you want and you do not
have to waste time "negotiating";  but when your whole
life is spent ordering and controlling things, there's
then not the same relaxation to be found in sex, if
you're still ordering and controlling it totally and
know that the other man will in no way ever object or
even appear to be less than enthusiastic.  I suppose
that's why there are still "gay bars" and  "gay dating
services" on the net as there's much more excitement
in a casual pick-up of a free man who may react
unpredictably and where both of you have to make some
effort to accommodate the other.  That's one of the
joys of having an ex-marine like Steve as a slave, and
a slave who was enslaved relatively late in life:  he
still has that "spark" of rebelliousness deep down, a
spark that he struggles to prevent turning into a
flame as he knows what he consequences of outright
rebellion would be.  But it makes it just that little
bit special for me as I fuck him, knowing that he's
doing it because I've ordered him to, but that he
really would prefer not to!

I don't have the time for bars or dating services when
I'm working on a project and so have to rely on what
the hotel has to offer, and so although my dick has
been well looked after, my mind was perhaps a little
bored with the endless, mechanically perfect sex.  So
when I got home I was looking forward to the
excitement that Steve, and the continuing breaking in
of Dan, would provide.

When my car stopped at the front steps of my mansion
and the chauffeur had opened the door for me I was
disappointed to find that Steve and Dan were not
waiting to greet me.  However I cheered up a moment
later when they charged around the edge of the house
and skidded to a halt by me.  This was a much better
welcome - they'd evidently been exercising as they
were both breathing very hard, their nearly naked
bodies were soaked in sweat (and Dan's longer hair was
lying flat against his head it was so wet!), and when
they turned I could see the huge wet streaks of sweat
on the crack line of their slave shorts.  I commanded
them to follow me up into my bedroom, and the scent of
these delightful bodies and the sight of them still
breathing hard and covered in an amazing sheen of
their own body water drove me almost into a frenzy.

I'd had a less than satisfactory time in New York as
I've explained - mechanically perfect, but lacking
passion and commitment, and I'd been eagerly looking
forward to continuing with my "training" of Dan on my
return.  But now the sight and smell of him was too
much - I couldn't even wait until he'd showered - no,
I didn't want him to shower - and I pushed him towards
the bed without even saying anything, forced him face
down on it, and stripped his shorts off - not a hard
task, as they're so brief anyway.  I don't know how I
got my own clothes off, as I was now so excited as his
young butt was revealed, a butt that was starting to
colour up as Steve had obviously been following my
instructions, and if they hadn't been made by the
finest tailors I'm sure they would have torn as I was
in so much of a hurry to get naked.

The moment I spread his butt and saw his asshole, now
beautifully clear as it was no longer shrouded in that
unpleasant forest of hair, I knew this was not gong to
be a further gentle introduction into the art of sex -
no, the moment my dick touched his sweaty pucker I
couldn't contain myself, and thrust it forward,
stabbing cruelly at him.  Dan had become alarmed by
now and was starting to shout and thrash around, so I
snapped "Get over here and hold him, Steve" so he
could not escape me.  I suppose Steve had had some
experience at this, as he gently pushed me to one side
- not an easy thing to do, given my frenzy - flipped
Dan over on to his back, leapt astride his chest and
dug his knees into his shoulders to pinion the lad
down, and reached around and grabbed at his legs,
which he proceeded to stick under his armpits, and
then hold there firmly as he clasped his hands
together.

Dan was screaming and shouting with the surprise and
indignity with which Steve had manipulated bis body,
and of course he was now totally exposed and available
to me, and utterly helpless.  I plunged my dick into
him, and, as you know, with the guy on his back and
his legs pulled back and spread, you have full and
complete  access:  you can get the entire length of
your dick in him, and the only thing that stops you
fucking as hard as you can  is the sensation from your
own balls when they slam into the body underneath you!

This wasn't like the last time, when I'd inched my way
in and then done dozens of tiny strokes - this was a
single mighty push, followed by totally vigorous
fucking causing our bodies to slap together on each
stroke, and the boy to begin to scream wit real terror
and the sheer discomfort of it all.  That only serves
to make you even more frenzied, doesn't it?  And as
his hole stretched and opened with my efforts, I was
able to indulge in that really rare pleasure - to be
able to pull right out, and then slam home to the full
length again.  And again.

Sadly, you can't keep up an epic fuck like that, can
you?  All too soon I felt my back arch as I gave one
last mighty thrust into him, and then I stood there,
feeling  my balls jerk and my dick flex as my semen
pumped into him.

I snapped at Steve to get out of the way, and fell
forward onto Dan's body, grabbing his wrists as I did
so, enabling me to hold them down on to the bed above
his head, denying him the leverage to break free.  His
shouting had stopped - well, almost - but he was
silenced as I thrust my face down on to his, and
forced my tongue deep into his mouth to enjoy the
taste of him as the last after shocks of my climax
died away.  He continued to try to resist me, though,
and attempted to push my tongue out by turning his
head away from me.  Fortunately I only needed one hand
to keep his wrists above his head, and so a couple of
quick, hard slaps to his face served to quieten him.
I was then able to enjoy kissing him once more, biting
at his lips until I tasted the salt of his blood, and
then moving on to nuzzle at his sweat-soaked neck,
sinking my teeth in to mark him again.

When I finally stood up and stood there looking down
at him, he refused to meet my gaze and just lay there.
 To my surprise Steve helped the boy to his feet -
normally, Steve assumes "slave rest" when not obeying
specific orders, and I had not expected him to take
some independent action like this.  He stood there
then, one big arm around the boy's shoulders as if to
comfort him, and I think I detected a reproachful look
on his face - he didn't dare say anything, I suppose,
but sometimes body language and facial expressions can
say far more.

In retrospect, I was stupid not to punish Steve there
and then.  I could have told him to lie across the bed
and I could have given him a few strokes of the tawse
that is always on one of the cabinets (even though I
do not normally need to use it as Steve is obedient,
as I've told you).  It would have been a short,
painful reminder to him of his proper place and would
have left no lasting marks.  But as it was I did
nothing other than to snap at him to go and run my
shower, and he did so reluctantly, muttering a couple
of words of "encouragement" to Dan as he did so.  I
seethed inwardly at this gross insubordination, but it
was now too late to do anything about it as the very
least he deserved was a caning, and I needed him to
work out with me the following morning which he would
be incapable of doing if I had ordered such a
thrashing.  That was, I suppose, my second mistake,
compounding the first:  by not correcting the slave
immediately I detected behaviour that was unsuitable,
I had laid the seeds for further rebellion.

It's hard to know, isn't it, whether further actions
are "real" or "imagined"?  Once you start believing a
slave is behaving badly, does your mind see every
slight gesture, every change of his breathing, every
movement of his body as further evidence of his inner
disobedience?  Steve knelt before me in the shower as
usual, but was the set of his shoulders indicating he
was still "critical" of me, or was it natural?  When
I told him to clean my dick with his mouth first, did
he give a tiny shudder, or did I imagine it?  And if
it was real, was it because he has a natural dislike
of ass juices, or because he'd disapproved of the way
I'd taken Dan so brutally?  Was he less than usually
solicitous as he shampooed my hair, lathered my body,
and then dried me because he was unconsciously
criticising me, or was it all in my imagination?
Either way, what should have been a happy, welcoming
homecoming for me was ruined.

Dan showered as Steve was drying me and then quickly
used our discarded towels to wipe himself dry, and
then when I ordered him to come to bed with me, walked
with what I thought was an exaggerated stride across
the room - I was perfectly certain that his ass was
sore, but it was as if he was currying sympathy from
Steve.   He lay there sullen and silent beside me, and
did not willingly snuggle his body against mine as he
had done before, and when I put my arm out so he could
rest his head in my pit, he deliberately turned his
face away from me rather than looking into my  eyes.

Well, you can't allow that sort of behaviour from a
slave, can you?  You'd barely tolerate it from a
lover!  I reached down and squeezed his balls quite
hard, and he yelped with the surprise and pain, and
tried to stop me.  Steve, who'd been settling down
wrapped in his blanked at the foot of the bed, leapt
up and instead of being concerned for me, shouted "Are
you OK, Dan?"

"Steve, get out!  You can spend the rest of the night
in your kennel.  Be outside at six tomorrow morning
for a run."

"Sir..."

"Get out, Steve!  You know why!  Get out before I take
the cane to you and beat the insubordination out of
you."

Reluctantly, still irritating me by the way he now
gave Dan a look that said "hang in there...", Steve
turned and left the room.  I kept my grip on Dan's
balls, and said to him "Are you pleased to have made
Steve so unhappy?"

"What?"

"Steve is a good slave.  He's served me well for
several years, as he's so grateful for having been
rescued from the mines.  But you have allowed him to
become concerned about you, allowed him to think that
he has a loyalty to you, rather than solely to me.
He's going to be miserable all night, worrying that
he's upset me; or, even worse, worrying about what I
might now be going to do to you.  He dislikes sleeping
in the slave kennels at the best of times, when I'm
away, but being made to do so when I'm in residence,
when his place is here, will upset him.  As will the
comments from the other slaves, who will tell him that
he must have really displeased me."

"I didn't...."

"You must have. Steve was told to train you in my
absence, and instead of focussing on that training so
that you would be pleasing to me when I returned, you
wasted time becoming 'friends' with Steve.  Slaves
must not be friendly with each other, as they need to
focus on their masters totally.  And, as you can see,
friendship between slaves can get in the way of the
slave functioning properly - when I'd fucked you and
you were lying there, Steve should have been concerned
for me, and not for you."

"He could see I was hurting..."

"So what?  You are a slave, and I am Steve's master.
My needs are paramount, and Steve was distracted."

"He only did what any man would do...."

"Quite!  And that's the problem - he's not a man, he's
a slave. As are you.  You should have pushed his arm
away."

"But you hurt me...."

"Stop making excuses!  And stop whining.  You're not
hurt.  You've just had a vigorous fucking. I know
enough about it, and have enough concern to not
destroy the value of a slave like you, to avoid
permanently damaging you:  your ass is sore, that's
all, not torn to pieces."

He turned to face me now, his dark brown eyes looking
anxiously at me.  "I thought you liked me, sir.  When
I was enslaved, I was terrified, but then when you
were so nice to me, even though you fucked me...."

Well, that was the problem, wasn't it?  I did like the
boy.  Initially, I'd been almost infatuated by the
thought of his young lithe body.  But as the days had
gone by and I saw how he reacted cheerfully to his new
life, I'd got to start to like him as a person, too.
And that, as we all know, is a huge mistake for a
master - you really can't "like" slaves, as one day,
inevitably, you're going to have to order them to be
punished, and finally, as they get old, you're going
to have to sell them.  You really can't be friends
with a slave, as the old saying goes.

"Sir, please.... Please don't punish Steve.  If it was
my fault, punish me..."

"There, you prove my point, Dan.  You're concerned
about Steve. And you should be totally focused on
pleasing me.  I will punish Steve, as he should have
known better.  And now you have understood the proper
role of a slave, I expect you to concentrate solely on
me."

As I said this, I pulled his body close to mine and
twined my legs around his, but I felt a resistance, a
reluctance to give himself unreservedly to me.  You
would think, wouldn't you, that I'd have learned from
my earlier mistakes that evening and taken swift and
immediate action - a good spanking would have taught
his body to respond properly to mine, I think.  But I
was tired, and frustrated and angry at the way my
homecoming had turned out, and all I really wanted to
do was sleep, so I did nothing.

The following morning Steve was at the rear entrance
to the mansion when Dan and I went out - he looked
vaguely defiant, I thought (see what I mean?  Was he
defiant, or did I only think it?  Either way he was
dammed, as after the previous night he ought have been
especially careful to appear to be contrite).  Still,
our exercise went well, and as usual at the end of it
I'd been stretched "just enough" as Steve was so good
at doing.  He was well on  the way to getting back to
normal, and I was beginning to think that I might not
punish him after all, when he simply followed us back
into the mansion.   It's a small thing, I know.  But
having been ordered out and to the slave kennels the
night before,  he should have waited for my command
before entering the mansion again, and this arrogant
assumption that "all was well again" really annoyed
me.

I ordered him back to the kennels, telling him to be
outside later on as he should continue to train Dan,
and motioned for Dan to follow me.  He wasn't nearly
as good at helping me shower as he was still reluctant
to perform the more intimate services like sliding his
soapy fingers between my butt cheeks, and he fumbled
at several important stages as he helped me dress,
failing to knot my cravat properly, and to get my
wallet and note case into the correct pockets of my
jacket.  All in all, I was not in a good mood when we
finally emerged after breakfast - having been away for
so many days it was imperative that I should
thoroughly inspect the estate as my supervisors and
overseers just do not pay the same attention to detail
as I do, and once standards start to slide, they are
hard to recover.

There was a lot of ground to cover that day and so I'd
ordered my pony and trap, and told Steve and Dan that
they should jog around with me - it would do Dan good
to see the miserable way some of the common slaves
lived, and provided they did a lot of "running
forward" and then coming back to the trap, both of
them would be well exercised.  Having re-read what
I've just written, I should perhaps correct one false
impression the less observant reader might acquire:
when I said the common slaves lived in a "miserable
way", some of you might think that I mistreated my
slaves.  Far from it!  I was known in the area as a
generous and benevolent owner - some of my neighbours
even complained that it showed them in a bad light as
my practices were so exemplary.  No, what I meant was
that for a slave like Dan, newly, enslaved and now
used to living in the mansion, the sight of the niggas
coffled naked, the tawses of the overseers, and the
sight of the slave barns where they slept at night,
might be upsetting.  If you have hundreds of field
workers, though, how else do you control them and get
the work out of them you're entitled to?  Coffling
them means that you only need one overseer for every
fifty or so, as the chains joining their collars very
effectively prevent escapes; you do need to
"encourage" them to give of their best, as they
otherwise get lazy - but the field overseers are only
allowed the tawse, and more severe punishments such as
a good caning can only be given on specific
authorisation. And as for working naked, well, it' a
kindness, really - in the hot sun a slave has no need
of clothes and it helps him to keep cool as there's
nothing to prevent his sweat evaporating;  if it's
raining, the things are not clinging damply to him,
chafing and making sores; and it's much easier and
more hygienic for him to be able to piss as he toils
away, rather than having to wait for a defined break,
or soil his clothes.  No, my slave owing practices
correspond to the highest standards, and the ASPCS
regularly inspects us, and at end of their most recent
one they complimented us on our excellent medical
services (we have a veterinarian of our own, full
time), how the slave barns allowed each slave four
feet of floor space instead of being very cramped, and
how much attention was given to ensuring there was an
adequate amount of slave chow for every slave, and how
they mostly had access to fresh water.

Still, as I said, it might be an interesting
experience for Dan to see these things, and to
contrast them with his own very privileged situation.

Fate was to take a hand, though, as it so often does
in these affairs.  All went well during the morning, I
stopped for a light lunch with a group of my overseers
to generally encourage them - standard management
practice, for senior management to meet with juniors
occasionally - allowing Steve and Dan to rest as I did
so.  But mid way through the afternoon my pony
suddenly gave a cry and stopped, limping badly.  This
was most unusual, as he's never given any trouble and
is an excellent puller, never seeming to tire or flag,
so I knew it must be serious.  I jumped down and found
blood cascading out of his foot - and there, embedded
in the dirt track around the perimeter of one of our
fields was a rusting tin!  Some of those folk who
drive out from the city to "view the countryside" must
have tossed it aside casually, and now my pony was
injured!

I at once got out my cell phone and called the estate
office to get them to send the vet out immediately,
and Steve tore off his T, and pulled it apart to use
as a bandage.  He was stroking the pony's calf with
his hand and whispering to him to be calm as he
examined the wound, then I heard him say "We need to
wash it clean.... this might sting a bit..."  I
suppose he'd learned these first-aid tricks in the
marines, as he expertly guided a stream of his piss at
the pony's foot to try to wash the dirt and rust out
of the wound, and then he carefully bound the foot
with the makeshift bandage.  The pony was obviously in
serious pain, though, as he was whimpering softly as
Steve worked away, and it was clear that he wasn't
going to be able to pull me for the rest of the
afternoon - and, as I've said, I really had a lot to
do that day, and it was fairly pressing.

Fortunately I don't believe in a lot of paraphernalia
for my ponies - blinkers, elaborate harnesses, false
tails, all that sort of stuff.  No, all you really
need is a slave with good heart and lung capacity and
nice strong long legs, and my current one, Sven,
conforms to this general type - he's some sort of
Scandinavian, big and tall, and a natural blond.  The
only concession to him being a "pony" is that his
wrists are lightly cuffed into the shafts of my trap -
it's not necessary at all really, as Sven likes the
work and wouldn't dream of letting go as we bowl
along, but I do think that having him "tethered" like
that just adds that little extra.  That and his
"mane", that is:  well, there are so few true blondes
that I'd decided to make an exception to my general
rule that the hair of all my slaves should be closely
cropped, and Sven sported a Mohican with a four inch
wide strip of blond hair on top of his head, and the
back it was allowed to grow so that there was a four
inch wide "mane" trailing down to fall on this
shoulders.  It made a change to see this bobbing up
and down as he jogged along, and otherwise all that
blondness would have been wasted as like all ponies he
was otherwise shaved completely smooth.  A visitor
once asked me about why this is, and frankly I have no
idea  - but you don't see ponies with body hair ever,
do you?  It might have something to do with the light
sheen of slave oil that they're given every morning,
so they start the day sparkling:  it's good to come
out into the morning sunlight and see a gleaming pony
waiting for you, and body hair would prevent that
delicious sheen, I guess.

Anyway,  it was therefore easy for Steve to be able to
unshackle Sven from the trap, and I told him he could
sit down by the side of the track and wait for the
vet.  I then casually said "Steve, I'm in a hurry and
there's a lot to do.  Just slip between the shafts,
and we'll be on our way."

You'd have thought I'd have commanded him to do
something terrible!  He clearly thought it was
demeaning or something to be used as a pony, and this
was further proof, if proof I needed, that his
attitude was wrong - I mean, you would have thought he
would have understood that I still had much work to
do, and would have pulled me gratefully.  It's not as
if he didn't have the right body, or wasn't fit and
strong, after all.

His attitude really annoyed me, but I am the master,
after all, so I said calmly "Dan, fasten the shackles
to hold Steve between the shafts."

Dan looked at me , too, but probably remembering our
conversation the night before, did as I commanded.
With Steve now physically helpless, as I'd been
concerned about his possible reaction, I went on "Now
step behind Steve, Dan, and remove his shorts.  Ponies
run naked."

End Of Part Three.