Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2006 06:18:49 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: My New Slave, Part Four

MY NEW SLAVE  By Pete Brown.

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

Part  Four

Steve turned around as his shorts were pulled down,
looking over his broad shoulders at me.  This was
already further evidence of his wrong attitude, and
for a moment I thought he might even dare to protest.

As I have said, there is absolutely nothing wrong in
being a pony, and a slave like Steve ought to be glad
to be serving me like this at my time of need.
Instead of that his whole body stance shrieked anger
and defiance, and so I decided that he did need to be
humiliated - he evidently thought that being stripped
was humiliation, but of course that is not so:  I
always run my ponies naked, and that's the norm here
on my estate and there's absolutely nothing wrong with
it at all -  so what could I do?  The answer came to
me immediately, and I called "Dan, I think you've done
enough for today.  Come and sit here by me on the trap
so I can enjoy you as Steve pulls us on, to the
packing sheds."

Dan climbed up next to me - the trap is really only
for one person, so his body was pressed very agreeably
close to me.  It would be a problem for Steve, I knew
- not only would it be much harder to pull the trap
with Dan's additional hundred and fifty pounds in it,
but he'd be jealous of him being in such close contact
with me, a favour he had always been denied.  "Ride
on!", I snapped to Steve, using the traditional term
to get a pony moving, and I thought Steve would for a
moment refuse - but he slowly began to walk, and then
moved up to a light jog.

I put my arm around Dan's shoulder to hold him steady
as we moved along, and so I had the double pleasure of
feeling his strong young body pressed close to me as I
watched Steve's muscular body running away in front of
me, his strong beautiful butt and thighs making a most
agreeable sight.

When we arrived at the packing sheds I allowed Dan to
accompany me on my rounds, as it would, I thought, do
him good to see how very constrained the life of a
slave could be, chained there at the production line
for his twelve hour shift before being herded back to
the slave barn whilst the second shift took over (we
ship produce to our markets twenty four hours a day,
as we pride ourselves on the freshness and quality of
it).  Again, I don't want to give you the impression
that I am a bad owner - all these slaves were well
fed, received proper medical attention, and were only
tawsed if they failed to keep up the work rate - they
were, after all, slaves, and were lucky to have such
good working conditions.  I could see that Dan was a
bit disturbed, though, and at one point did whisper
"Sir, I just saw one of the slaves pissing...."

"Of course!  They are not allowed to stop working
during their shift as we cannot afford to have
production disrupted.  You'll notice that they stand
on that grill that runs  the length of the shed, to
make sure hygiene is maintained - there's a drain
underneath it."  But then we turned the corner towards
the sorting and grading lines, and I heard him gasp
audibly as he saw the scene.

It's well known of course that females are better at
delicate jobs needing fine discrimination, so here,
where the fruit and vegetables went past at high speed
and needed picking over to remove defects or over or
under sized examples, we used only female slaves.  Dan
hadn't seen any female slaves before as out in the
fields where strength is the prime requirement, the
coffled niggas are of course male.  And around the
house and grounds my personal preference is for males,
and so all those slaves are male too.  My estate was
however a commercial operation as I have explained,
and whatever my personal preferences, the facts are
unalterable:  females are not only better at that type
of work, but cost less to purchase in the first
instance, and so they were used here.  There are, as
you can imagine, certain overheads in having a mixture
of male and female slaves as, for example, we needed
separate slave sheds to house them at night to prevent
the females being impregnated.  Fortunately, though,
when you keep a large number of females in close
proximity nature tends to synchronise their menstrual
cycles so it was only for a few days in the month
where the grading lines were very unpleasant as the
slaves' fluids dripped away into the drains as they
continued to work.

I wanted to discuss a number of issues with my
overseers in charge of handling and packing, which all
took longer than expected, and when we finally emerged
there was more evidence of Steve's wrong attitude:
instead of standing there with his head bowed, as
you'd expect from a slave acting as a pony, he'd dared
to sit down, and had even moved the trap a little so
that there was a convenient stone to rest on as he
could not easily sit on the ground with his wrists
still tethered.  He did at least get to his feet as
soon as he saw me, but I was not pleased at his
behaviour and was very curt in ordering him "Home!"

It's true of course that he had a heavier than
expected load with both Dan and me to pull, and whilst
this is not necessarily so much of a problem on the
flat as a modern trap with ball bearings and so on can
offer relatively little rolling resistance, it does
get harder when going uphill as the pony is
effectively raising  the weight of the trap and
occupants through the vertical rise.  I keep the
packing sheds well away from the mansion, and to take
advantage of the views the mansion had been built all
those years ago at the highest point on the estate;
and so Steve was soon sweating with the exertion
therefore.  I thought I detected a lack of effort,
though, as the trap began to slow - you must remember
that Steve is a big, strong slave, at least as
powerful as my normal pony Sven - and I suspected that
his was another attempt by him to in some way show his
disapproval of the whole process.  You wouldn't expect
me to allow such insubordination, especially when I
was already very cross about his sitting, and silent
criticism of using him as a pony anyway, and there was
only one thing to be done:  although I rarely use it,
the trap has a pony whip neatly holstered at the side,
and I reached for it.

Perhaps I should explain for the benefit of my readers
who may not have the luxury of owning a personal pony
that a pony whip is not at all like the normal stock
whips or bull whips used for the severe punishment of
slaves.  No, it's rather more like a riding crop, but
adapted to the needs of reaching the pony who is a few
feet in front of the driver.  There's a comfortable
handle that fits snugly in the palm of the hand, but
then a long shaft that tapers to give the right degree
of flexibility, terminating in a thin leather strand
about a foot long.  It's whole purpose is to sting,
rather than to really hurt, as a sharp stinging slash
across the pony's shoulders or butt can "encourage"
him by making him leap forward and remember that he is
supposed to give of his all.

There was nothing for it -  I upholstered it, swished
it a couple of times to remind myself of the
technique, and then slashed down at Steve's butt.  It
had exactly the required effect - he gave a quick yelp
of surprise and alarm, realised what had happened and
managed to check himself from complaining or
blaspheming, and spurted forward.

Regrettably the sting of the whip on his butt only
served to make Steve totally compliant for a few
minutes, and I was forced to slash t him again as he
began to slow under he remorseless effort of the long
pull up to the mansion.  And I needed to do it again,
and again, and again, and as my anger mounted I hit
harder and harder, until there were flecks of blood
and thin red trails appearing on his shoulders and
butt.  You may think this was cruel of me, but you
have to remember that all slaves have a small "store"
of reserve energy locked up inside them, and a master
has a right to use these if he needs.  I'm not saying
that Steve was deliberately holding back - far from
it, and now, after my initial strokes,  I think he
really was tired and straining - but his whole
attitude suggested he was doing the task unwillingly,
and in those circumstances a slave never does his best
and really does need to be "coaxed" physically.

When we finally arrived at the mansion Steve did seem
to be totally exhausted, as he almost sagged to the
ground as we halted outside the door.  Dan leapt down
to release the shackles holding Steve's wrists in
place, but I stayed him.  "No, Dan.  Lead him around
to the stables, and tell my stable overseer that I
will be using Steve for the foreseeable future as a
replacement for Sven, and that he's to be treated in
exactly the same way that Sven is.  And hurry - I need
a relaxing shower after all the work I've done today,
and in Steve's absence I will need you to cleanse me."

I saw Steve almost flare up in anger as he heard my
words, and I knew I was doing the right thing in
teaching him this new lesson in humility, and he
looked even crosser as Dan said, very gently, "Come
on, Steve - you heard the master.  Follow me...."  I
knew that having young Dan ordering him around like
that would add to his feelings of  "injustice" - I put
the word in inverted commas advisedly, as there can of
course be no injustice in the way an owner deals with
a slave, no more than your car, or stereo or anything
can feel "injustice" at how you choose to use them.

It was not totally satisfactory in the shower - I
missed Steve's strong, confident hands on me, and
although it was good to have Dan curled up in my arms
as we slept,  the following morning when we went for a
run together the experience was dismal  - without
Steve's firm guidance and encouragement I know I only
ran at about three quarters of the pace I normally do
and that therefore I wasn't getting the necessary
exercise.  I was regretting my decision to tell the
stable overseer to use Steve as my pony, but once
you've made a public decision like that you can hardly
back down, can you?  Indeed, it would be worse, far
worse, for Steve if he was even to believe that he
might have "won" in the battle of his will with mine.

We stopped off at the stables on the way back to the
house as I was interested in seeing how Steve was
behaving.  Inside there was the normal delicious scent
of hay mixed with the strong male odours of sweat and
testosterone, all overlaid with the real horse scent
from my hunters.  I keep a mixed stable, with my
thoroughbred hunters in stalls towards the end, with
the others housing my ponies like Sven,  the two
slaves used to pull the mowers around the lawns, and
the dray ponies used for general haulage around the
place - a matched team of eight well-muscled niggas,
chosen for their ability to lift and carry, rather
than to run long distances.

Steve was in the stall usually occupied by Sven, and
Dan and I peered in at him as he lay there sprawled on
the straw.  He didn't have the courtesy - or good
sense - to get to his feet, and just lay there
indolently, glaring at us.  I could see Dan looking
worried as he sensed my mounting anger, and he called
out "Steve, it's the master, get to your feet...."

Clearly the lad's attempt to help Steve really riled
him, as he got to his feet and lunged towards Dan, but
fortunately they'd shackled him by one ankle to the
far wall of his stall, and he'd forgotten this as he
was brought up short and crashed to the ground again.
It's one of those hangovers from the old days -
there's no risk of Sven or any of the other slaves in
the stables escaping really, but it's considered "good
form" to treat pony slaves like that, more as if they
were real animals, and on this occasion we'd seen how
useful that was.

The commotion brought the stable overseer running up,
and he had his slave prod drawn and was about to give
Steve a severe shock with it.  But I was thinking that
Steve had perhaps suffered enough - or was I even just
the tiniest bit guilty?  "No, leave him!", I said,
feeling rather magnanimous towards Steve who had,
after all, almost attacked another slave.

"How's Sven?", I asked the stable overseer, and he
told me "The veterinarian says that he's lucky to have
had some skilled attention on the spot - the wound's a
deep one, and without that near-tourniquet, and the
sterile washing, it could have been very serious.  As
it is, though, he'll be out of action for at least a
week."

"Well Steve can stand in, then.  How was he last
night?"

"Sir, I think he could best be described as 'wilful'.
We almost had to overpower him to get him in to the
stall and shackle him.  And then he refused to eat the
evening feed.  And he hasn't touched the morning feed,
either."

I looked down and there in the stainless steel feeding
bowl on the floor of Steve's stall I could see the
morsels of slave chow he'd  left lying there.  "He
says he doesn't want slave chow, sir", the overseer
added unhelpfully.

"That's two problems you have then, Steve", I said
sternly, looking down at him as he lay there.
"Firstly, you dare to refuse an order from an
overseer.  And secondly, you were speaking:  you know
as well as I do, from seeing Sven in action, that
ponies are absolutely forbidden to speak."

"Sir, I wasn't hungry...", Steve began haltingly,
recognising my anger.

"You are forbidden to speak!  Did you not hear me?
And if you did not eat last night, you will now.  You
will be working hard, and a slave needs proper food to
return the work his master is due.  Now, eat your
morning feed."

To my utter astonishment, given that I'd tried to be
forgiving of him, Steve was completely insolent,
without actually saying anything!  He reached out,
picked up one small piece of the chow, slowly put it
in his mouth, and crunched the hard biscuit five or
six times before swallowing it.  Slowly, very slowly,
he reached out for another piece.....    Well, I
couldn't allow that, could I?   Especially not with
Dan and the stable overseer watching - my authority
would have been completely undermined.

"Eat properly, Steve..."

"I am!"

Well, that was it!  It was  too much!  I turned to the
stable overseer, and snapped "This pony needs proper
training  Fetch a training bit, and a feeder, and as
he's rather wild, bring four strong drays over to hold
him."

Steve got to his feet, but at the extent of his
shackling chain he could not leave the stall.  He
stalked around, glaring at me, although he had at
least got the sense not to anger me further by saying
anything else.

You know that I don't usually bother with all the real
"pony" stuff on my slaves, but we do keep a training
bit in the tack room, more as a threat, and a
punishment, than for any serious purpose.  The
overseer soon came back with this, and then, as Steve
struggled and fought, the four big nigga drays
overcame him and held him kneeling in front of me.  It
was rather  erotic, actually, seeing Steve's naked
body thrashing around submerged in those of the four
niggas, and I felt my dick straining at my pants as
finally he was held there in front of me.

"I told you not to speak, Steve, so you've brought
this on yourself", I said, showing him the training
bit. Now, open your mouth."

He struggled, futilely, as the drays had him held
firmly, but kept his mouth clamped shut.  I put the
toe of my running shoes forward so that they were
touching the base of his sac as he knelt there, and
then, when this warning was insufficient, brought it
sharply upwards.  Steve let out a great cry of pain,
and that was all I needed - I thrust the bit between
his teeth, and then it was all over.  I expect most of
you have seen ponies at work, and how some owners
actually use a bit and reins to control them, so I
don't have to describe in detail how the steel bar
protrudes from the corners of their mouths and the
metal straps go behind the head to be fastened there
to hold it in place.  The only difference between such
a standard bit and the training one we were using  was
the presence of the tongue plate - the metal plate at
right angles to the bar of the bit itself which
presses the tongue down on to the floor of the mouth -
well, not presses, actually:  it's bottom surface is
covered in sharp spikes, and the pony soon learns not
to move his tongue as it can be extremely painful.

"Now, Steve, that will keep you quiet!  Unfortunately
it prevents you from feeding, but as you refused food
last night and a moment ago in defiance of proper
slave behaviour, and as I expect you to work hard
today, you do need sustenance."

I turned to the dray slaves, and snapped "Hold his
head firmly now... And make he doesn't move at all..."

The four muscular drays' powerful hands gripped at
Steve's flesh to hold him as I personally forced
Steve's mouth open further - not difficult, as it was
already partially open with the bit - and inserted the
bright blue plastic feeding spout of the feeder down
his throat.  His gag reflex was triggered, of course,
but that was his problem, not mine, as the four niggas
really did have him in their grip and they are
extremely strong from their work.  Once I was
satisfied I'd passed  his windpipe, I allowed the
stable overseer to pour the slurry of his slave chow
mixed with water into the reservoir, and then cranked
the handle to force it into Steve.  It reminded me
rather of the way that geese are stuffed tom make foie
gras, and, to tell you the truth, having Steve so
totally powerless was very arousing!  When I had made
sure all the chow was in him,  and then I pulled the
tube out, leaving Steve wheezing and gasping, his eyes
running with tears.

"If you refuse to eat, Steve, in future the stable
overseer will feed you like that."

I turned then, and walked off, but stopped for a
moment to give the overseer more orders about Steve's
treatment.

Dan showered me, but he was unusually silent, a
silence that lasted over breakfast:  whilst breakfast
us usually fairly quiet as I like to read the Wall
Street Journal, there's usually a little conversation
as Steve and Dan passed things, made sure my coffee
cup was always full, and so on, but this morning there
was this icy silence.  Finally, Dan spoke.  "Sir,
please, sir.... Don't be so hard on Steve, sir...."

"I am not being 'hard', as you put it.  Steve was
being wilful and disobedient, and that is not
allowed."

"But sir, you had him chained in that stall
overnight..."

"..because he defied me yesterday with his dumb
insolence.  And stop this, Dan - I do not need to
justify myself to you!  Steve is a slave, he
displeased me, and he's now suffering the
consequences."

"...but feeding him like that, making him run naked
yesterday...."

"He needs his strength, and strength comes from food.
If he refuses to eat, it's tantamount to saying that
he's  not going to give of his best for me.  And why
shouldn't he run naked?  Sven does.  All my ponies
here do.  And, anyway, he's not naked - like all the
slaves you've seen in the fields and the packing
sheds, he's got a collar on - that's all a slave
needs. "  I saw Dan fingering the heavy chain around
his neck, and continued "Yes, Dan - if  I chose, I
could have you in only that collar - that's all a
slave needs.  Modesty and a concern for not displaying
the body is something that's only applicable to men,
not to slaves.  If I choose to look at a slave's body,
or to display it for others, that's my choice.."

"But sir..."

"One more word, Dan, and I think you might join Steve
in the pony barn as it might teach you a little more
about the way a proper slave should behave - you've
been a bit of a pampered toy so far..."

I suppose I could have told Dan of my real concern -
if Steve's behaviour was not checked and rectified,
I'd have no alternative but to sell him as I could not
risk having an openly defiant slave around the place
as it sets such a bad example for all the others.  And
any prospective purchasers, looking at his owner's log
book, would see that he'd been enslaved for violence,
had come from the mines, and would almost certainly
not believe he could be a good slave!  Quite apart
from the fact that I'd get only a pittance for him, I
feared that Steve's future would be straight back down
the mines, and I had this sneaking regard for him
which meant that I thought he did not deserve that.

Dan went silent, but it was the same kind of sullen
silence Steve had been using the day before.  I began
to think I was losing my touch at slave management,
and I sincerely hoped that I wouldn't need to carry
out my threat on young Dan.  Wisely, though, he
performed well as I dressed for business, and I
allowed him to wear slave shorts and a T, telling him
that I had business in the local town and that he
could accompany me.

"Sir, can't  I stay here and work...?"

"NO, Dan.  It's two miles into town, and I'll enjoy
your company."

"Please, sir, I might see some of my old buddies...."

"So?"

"Please sir, they'll see I'm a slave...."

"Yes?  Well, you are a slave.  So they'll be correct,
won't they?"

"But sir...."

"No 'buts', Dan!  You are a slave, and there's nothing
to be ashamed of providing you're carrying out my
orders and working as well as you possibly can for me.
 And they're no longer your 'buddies', anyway - a
slave has no family and no friends, as he should be
totally focussed on the needs of his master."  I said
his in a tone that allowed no further argument, and we
went downstairs and out of the front entrance.

The stable overseer had carried out my orders to
perfection!  Steve positively glistened in the morning
sun from the sheen of slave oil all over his pelt, and
I went over and ran my hand lightly over his chest,
feeling how smooth he had been shaved.  I called Dan
over and told him to feel Steve, too, knowing that
Steve would particularly hate this.  Dan hesitated,
and I snapped "Feel his genitals, too - doesn't he
look different now all his pubes have been shaved off
as well?"

"Sir, yes, sir...", Dan said in a small voice.

I now cupped Steve's denuded balls in my palm, running
my hands lightly over the root of his dick now also
completely smooth, and said to the stable overseer who
had brought Steve around from the stables "There is
one thing - Steve here is exceptionally well hung, and
I don't want to cause him unnecessary suffering as he
runs today - I think he needs cinching until he gets
used to it, as I usually let him wear slave shorts for
exercise.  I have a few calls to make - get him done,
and bring him back as soon as possible."  Turning to
Dan I said "Go with them, and watch as they cinch
Steve.... It's as well to know how it's done... In
case I decide to have you done too."

My calls to New York were particularly frustrating,
and I was glad to get outside again to find Steve and
Dan waiting for me.  Steve's dick was now jutting out
almost at right angles from his body as the
tight-fitting cinch ring around the base of his dick
and balls thrust him forwards and out.  It's not just
the mechanical action of the ring holding the dick
out, of course - it also restricts the flow of blood a
little, so once an erection has started, it's
extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get it to
go down again.  I've head that some men use "cock
rings" to give them this sustaining effect (I've never
found the need myself), but the same principle applies
- the only difference being that because the dick and
balls have to be squeezed through a cock ring, it can
never be as tight and constricting as a cinch ring
which basically consists of two halves that can be
pushed together around the root of the dick and balls
as they are pulled away from the body, and then locked
together.

Initially Steve seemed to be rather defiant as we sped
along on the estate road, but when I got to the
junction with the drive leading up to the county road,
and I told him to turn and head for town, he seemed to
sag. I knew what was going on in his brain, and sensed
the exquisite embarrassment and shame he was starting
to feel.  Pony traps are a not uncommon occurrence in
our sleepy little town of course - being in the middle
of an agricultural belt several of he local farmers
used them for short journeys, but the ponies were
usually "farm stock" - niggas taken from the fields
and pressed into service between the shafts.  And most
farmers allowed them to wear slave shorts, or, as a
minimum if they needed to keep the butts bare for
exercising the whip, a G-string to contain the slaves'
genitals.  Only I had enough money to be able to have
a "whitey" like Sven, as a pony, and as I was usually
chauffeured into the town, Sven had never been seen
there in his standard nakedness.  There's no
prohibition on parading your slaves nude, of course,
but I knew, and Steve knew, that the sight of a naked
whitey would cause enormous interest, especially as
many of the town folk would at once recognise Steve as
my personal trainer as he usually was allowed to
accompany me when I went shopping and so on, to carry
my purchases and my wallet.

As this realisation dawned on him, Steve started to
shake his head and slow down, and I snapped "Steve,
head for town!", and slashed at his butt with the whip
to emphasise the point.

It was just as I anticipated - when I came out of the
barber, having had my usual short but stylish cut, a
small group of interested onlookers had clustered
around Steve.  I was annoyed, though, that he had not
behaved properly and remained outside the barber shop
with his head decently bowed - he'd taken it upon
himself to move a few feet so that he was in the
shade!  In his hearing I said to Dan "Did you move
Steve?"

I saw Dan look at Steve, lick his lips nervously, and
almost whisper  "Yes, master.... I thought it would be
better for him to be cool for when you came out..."

I looked at Dan sternly.  "I will punish you tonight
for lying to me.  I saw you look at Steve then... He
moved himself, didn't he?  You knew that what he did
was wrong and would annoy me, and you are trying to
cover his disobedience by lying to me! "

"Sir, no...."

"Dan!  How dare you lie to your master!"

The boy crumbled "I'm sorry, sir..."

"So he did move himself?"

"I suppose so, sir...."

"So that's two of you to be punished tonight, then."

To his credit, Dan hung his head in shame, and I saw
Steve look pretty upset.  I moved close to him so that
only he could hear, and hissed See, Steve - when
you're wilful and disobedient, it's not only yourself
who suffers.  Now you've got Dan into trouble as
well."

He shook his head and made a number of inarticulate
gurgling noises, presumably to plead with me.  The
drool that was dripping from the corners of his mouth
where the bit cut harshly into them turned red - I
assumed his tongue had been lashing against the spikes
of the training bit as he endeavoured to speak to me.

Even though it was unnecessary, I slashed at Steve
with the hip - albeit lightly - several times as we
drove on a circuit of the four principal streets
before heading home.  I wanted Steve to feel that
everyone in the town had seen him naked and polished,
with his dick jutting out, and for him to know that
they would see that he was wilful and disobedient as I
needed to use the whip so much.

As we bowled along back to the house, I pondered how
on earth I would punish both Steve and Dan, but I'm
very clever and creative as I may have mentioned, and
by the time we were back at the stables I had a plan.

I ordered Steve to be laid on the punishment "horse",
but that only his wrists were to be manacled to the
front legs as I wanted a lot of movement to be
possible.  He watched me with a mixture of anger and
contempt as I selected a punishment cane - I didn't
want to break the skin so it should not be too thin,
but I did want it to really hurt, not just form the
initial stinging stroke, but from the underlying dull,
insistent pain that lasts and lasts.  Finally I had
one that seemed satisfactory as  I swished it
backwards and forwards, and I went and stood by
Steve's head.

"You know you deserve to be punished, don't you,
Steve?  You moved, without authority.  But worse than
that, you colluded in trying to make Dan lie to me!
I've never had to use a punishment cane on you before,
Steve, and I don't know what's got in to you recently
-  you used to be such an obedient slave, but since
Dan arrived....  I thought you were grateful to me for
rescuing you from the mines, and wanted to work
enthusiastically to make my life easy... But now....
It saddens me, Steve, to have to do this."

Steve still looked defiant, and I went on "You've seen
me use a punishment cane on other slaves, so you know
this is really going to hurt you.  But more than the
physical pain involved, I hope you feel the shame of
being  such a bad slave that I have been forced to go
to these lengths to discipline you.  I won't be able
to hear you scream physically because of the bit, but
I know it will be hurting you...."

I turned to Dan, handed him the cane, and said "Six
strokes, two on each buttock, and one on each thigh."

"Sir, please, no... Don't make me hit Steve..."

"You were keen enough to collude with him this morning
in lying to me.  Now you must bear the consequences of
that, and share with me in punishing him."

"Sir, please, no..."

"So you want to make it worse for Steve?"

"Sir?"

"If you cane him, I will expect you to do it hard.
But you lack the power, and experience, that I
have.... Six strokes from me will hurt Steve far more
than six from you...."  As I said this, I handed him
the cane, and he saw the logic in what I was saying as
he positioned himself by Steve's butt.  I smiled
inwardly - the physical pain for Steve would be a lot
less, as I'd said - but Steve would be totally
humiliated by having a twenty year old slave caning
him, and I thought that the pain of that would linger
long after the physical sensations had faded.

I had to help Dan of course, standing behind him and
wrapping my arms around him to guide the cane down
onto Steve's butt.  He's got such pronounced
musculature and it swells so appreciably that you need
to treat each buttock separately to get a good long
stroke across it - if I'd treated his butt a a whole,
only the area immediately around his crack would have
received the stroke.  Dan seemed to hate it, and his
body was trembling with emotion as the six strokes
fell, and with each Steve's body jerked in pain,
helpless on the horse.  But as you are all probably
aware, a stroke across the thigh, especially when it's
stretched taught on the horse, is immeasurably more
painful and not only did his body jerk and spasm
uncontrollably, but his cries were audible even with
his training bit in.

"That was the first part of your punishment, Dan", I
told him.  "Now, strip!"

He could see all the other ponies and the stable
overseer watching him, and began to blush.  I knew
that although he'd got used to being naked with Steve
and me, this was probably the first time as a slave
that he'd had to do it in front of other men too.

He stood there before me, one hand hovering on front
of his dick, as if in some way this might make his
embarrassment less.  "And how should I punish you,
Dan?"

"With the cane, like Steve, sir?"

"Yes.  I am going to give you two strokes, one on each
buttock.  But the 'horse' is already occupied.... So
please go and stand between Steve's legs...."

I watched, as did all the others, as his lithe young
body took the few paces over to Steve, and then he
stood there, uncertainly.

"Good, Dan.  Now, you need to be held on the horse...
But Steve is using the shackles.  So please make
yourself erect... And then insert your dick into
Steve's ass... That should hold you secure."

"Sir, please, no...."

I took two steps towards him, raised the cane, and
brought it crashing down on Steve's butt.  Steve
jerked with the pain and there was a muffled scream
again from him - I knew that this stroke, administered
with all my power, would really have hurt him, and
that Dan could see that.

"If I continue to see Steve's butt exposed, I will
continue to strike it, Dan!  Now, do as you ere told,
or be prepared to see Steve continuing to get hurt..."

I raised the cane again, and Dan called anxiously
"Sir, no, sir, please, stop...."

As I watched, he stroked frantically at his dick,
causing the drays to start to snigger and cheer, and
then as his 'skin peeled back and his moist head
appeared, he turned and faced Steve's ass, looking
faintly helpless.

"Use your hands to spread his cheeks apart, then, when
you've seen his hole, use one of them to hold him
apart and the other one to position your dick... And
then push in!"

He hesitated, and I said "Get to it, boy... My arm is
tired of holding this cane up...."

He did as I'd ordered, and stood there.  "Push in!  I
want you buried to the hilt!  I want Steve to fell
your pubic hair on his bare butt.  Now he's lost his
own, he'd probably appreciate knowing what it feels
like again...."    The drays all laughed again as I
said this, and I could see the boy blush even deeper,
and Steve looked really uncomfortable, too.

Dan's dick is shorter and thinner than mine, so it
ought to have been really easy for Steve to
accommodate it as he was used to taking me.  But
whether it was the pain from his stripes, or the
tenseness caused by the shame he was experiencing, it
seemed to be very hard for Dan to get in, and there
was a lot of awkward shuffling and straining before I
saw Dan's young body finally pressed close to Steve.

"Bend forward and put your arms under Steve, and hold
tight!", I told him, and as he did, resting his head
just below Steve's shoulder blades, I struck.

I didn't strike him hard, actually, as I wanted to
enjoy his ass that night and I know from experience
that a slave with a deep red cane weal across his butt
just doesn't perform with enthusiasm!  So the two
strokes I gave Dan were more of a "taster" than a
serious punishment.  Nevertheless, as is so often the
case, the act of caning the butt had caused him to
ejaculate - when he pulled out of Steve's ass, there
was a stalactite of his cum drooling down from his
dick tip!  He was blushing even more furiously now,
his whole torso seeming to be going bright red,
especially as the drays started to  call out things
like "A proper fucker!", and "Bullseye on his ass,
boy", until the stable overseer went over to them and
told them to be silent.

"So you've lost your virginity, too!", I commented.
"That is the first time you've ejaculated inside a
guy's ass?"

"Yes, sir", he stammered.

"Well now you're so well acquainted wit Steve, I can
see no reason why you shouldn't fuck him again - when
I don't feel like it, it might amuse me to see you
really ride him...."

I could see Steve wriggling with irritation, and to
complete his humiliation I said to Dan, but loudly so
that everyone else could hear "Take your T and wipe
Steve's ass for him - I can see your cum starting to
ooze out of him and slide down the inside of his
thighs.  As I'm going to have his hands cuffed tonight
to stop him playing with his  dick, I don't want him
to have to spend all night with your slime sticking to
him."  It must have been demeaning for Dan to have to
wipe a man's ass, and equally so for Steve, to have a
young guy doing it to him.

I left the barn,  telling the stable overseer to make
sure Steve was chained in his stall, and that his
hands were to be fastened behind him so that there was
no possibility of him jerking off.  Then I strode off,
commanding  Dan to follow me.  He went to pick up his
clothes, but I shouted at him to leave them and hurry
as I did not want to be kept waiting.  He looked so
acutely embarrassed at his nakedness as he followed
me, but I am sure he remembered what I'd said about a
slave needing nothing else other than a collar, and I
thought that he must be worried in case I should
decide to keep him like that from now on.

All in all it had been a most successful day - Steve
had begun to learn how he was under my total control
in ways he had not even previously guessed.  And Dan
had started to see that as a slave he could be made to
do the things - like hitting Steve, and fucking him
publicly - that caused him the most acute
embarrassment.

End Of Part Four