Date: Mon, 2 Apr 2012 06:01:55 -0700
From: Randall Austin <randallaustin2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: One Step Behind You - Part 14

One Step Behind You

Part Fourteen

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be
read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my
stories without my permission and please forward all comments to
randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin's Archive Group:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories


The drive to the punishment house was not pleasant. Tony
and Perry let me know that they were pissed.  They had
called Lang to see if their team captain for the
February slave games could meet with me sometime
during the Winter Holiday vacation break, and Lang
then asked them if they would baby-sit me for two
days.  They figured they had to say "Yes" to that as
sort of a favor to Lang for letting them use me in the
slave games.  But then, on top of that, Lang asked
them if they would now drive me to Punishment House,
stay with me during the punishment session, and bring
me back afterwards.  I had never seen Tony so upset;
"Needless to say, we felt put upon.  Just so much
fucking trouble!  Perry and I had other plans for this
afternoon."

Tony sat in the backseat with me during the drive so
he could make sure I wasn't playing with my dick.  He
wanted to rub it in, "How you doing now that you no
longer get to jerk?  I bet you just want to tug on
that thing real bad, don't you?"  Perry looked back
from the driver's seat and smiled at Tony, as I
answered, "No sir."

Tony continued, "We learned about guys like you in
slave psychology class.  With some guys, once
enslaved, various behavior patterns emerge which may
have been repressed due to societal pressure.  In your
case, you probably were always a chronic masturbator,
but once you were enslaved your true colors emerged
and you became, basically, the little jackin' pig boy
you always were inside.  So poor Lang didn't have any
choice but to go ahead and get you clamped."

Perry didn't care, "Well, so much the better for us.
Because according to Hogan having a single penis
clamped compulsive masturbator on our team is like
having three extra players on our team."

Tony nodded and continued, "With individuals like
Billy it is probably for the good of everyone that he
was enslaved, because if he ever got married his
marriage probably wouldn't have lasted once his wife
caught on to his masturbatory obsession.  That is if
he's even straight."  Tony looked sincerely at me,
"And rumor has it, Billy, that you're gay.  And if
that's the case, well then I still love you as a best
friend, but I think homos are better off enslaved."

"And so does society", Added Perry.

Tony continued to vent his frustration, "So why are
you always getting into trouble.  Is it true like they
say that you slaves just get defiant for the sake of
attention?  Let me tell you, if you get out of hand or
embarrass us in any way at the slave games we've been
told to just contact the campus police.  If you intend
to take advantage of our good natures, you better
realize right now that it's not going to work.  Perry
and I will be just too busy in training for the games,
and we won't have time to put up with any slave shit."

The comments and attitudes of my two former friends
somehow did not surprise me in the least, as I thought
to myself, `Fuck you both!'

Tony was feeling the need to boss me, "Okay, Billy, why
don't you sit up nice and tall for your drive to
Punishment House."  I sat up tall for Tony and Perry.
"That's a good boy.  I heard Lang tell you to take
your punishment like a man."
Perry commented, "I hear that the majority of the
disciplinarians over at Punishment House are high
school dropouts.  Billy, how did it feel last time you
were at Punishment House getting bossed around by a
bunch of school dropouts?  How did that make you feel,
scholarship boy?"

Up until this moment I had never realized that Perry
and Tony might have been jealous of me getting a
scholarship while they did not.  But, of course, it
had never occurred to me either, that my two best
friends in high school were in that class of people
who supported a slave society by their very nature and
instinct; who liked lording it over other human
beings; who enjoyed watching other human beings
suffer and seemed to believe that if the government
said something was right and good, then by golly, it
was right and good.  In short, they were in that large
group of people, about one half of the general
population, who will shed sentimental tears when the
national anthem of this great slavery loving nation is
played, but who have no qualms whatsoever about
kicking a dog, killing a spider, and dumping leftover
paint in the local stream.

The Punishment House was a division of the Clarion County
Slave Control Center, a utilitarian looking building
near the courthouse.  There were no large signs
telling the world what went on inside, but once Tony
drove the car into a garage entrance marked
`Deliveries', there were plenty of signs directing
traffic to the proper drop off point.  Tony drove his
car to a station marked `Punishment House' and told
the guard in the station he was dropping off Billy
Garneau and that he and Perry wished to be present as
observers.  The guard got on his mobile and in a
second two guards came out of the facility to our car.
The station guard told Tony to unlock the door on my
side of the car and the officers came around to meet
me.  As the guards pulled me out of the car, Tony
shouted, "Go to it, Tiger!" and another guard told
Perry where to park his car and where to enter.
At the check-in desk, after a reading of my collar ad
ID, I was issued a large yellow ear-tag which was
attached to my ear with a clasp.  I was then led into
a large collection room where already about sixty
slaves, all with big dangling yellow ear-tags, were
waiting.  The slaves were dressed in a variety of
ways; some in street clothes, some in smocks, and
some, like me, in tan slave shorts and tunic.  The
guards told me to wait, and not talk to any of the
other slaves.

I knew the routine and after a few minutes a group of
five disciplinarians, along with head disciplinarian,
the dashing Tom Lattimore, entered the room.  The
disciplinarians were dressed in black slacks, with a
shiny deep black silken stripe which ran the length of
each outer side of the leg, black boots, crisply
pressed steel grey shirts, black tie, and matching
Punishment House insignia silver cuff links and tie
clasp.  The head disciplinarian, Thomas Lattimore, was
dressed in the same outfit, only he wore a black
jacket over the outfit, which had white ranking
stripes on the front.  The disciplinarians sported a
variety of hairstyles, but all were neatly groomed.

Tom counted out fifty male slaves and the
disciplinarians led us down one of the long
corridors to a door marked "Punishment Room #4".  As
uneasy as I was, I couldn't help thinking, once again,
of how handsome Tom Lattimore was.  He was even more
striking dressed in his classy uniform than he was
dressed in civilian clothes at my party.

We entered room #4, and like the other room I was in
at my first visit to Punishment House, it was a large
room with grey walls, and five rows of 50 gurneys, 10
to a row.  Each gurney was outfitted with restraining
straps and storage compartments underneath.

All of the slaves in our group were in their twenties
and thirties.  We were shivering even though the room
was not cold.  Tom stood in front of us and told us to
stand in a row, side by side, and then he addressed
us; "Welcome, boys, to Punishment House.  I know a
couple of your owners very well, and I even know a few
of you.  Now I know this place has a frightening name
and reputation.  So for those of you who are here for
the first time, let me familiarize you with what we do
here.  This is a not a training facility.  If your
owner doesn't like the way you curtsy, or thinks you
move too slowly, or have an attitude problem, we don't
work to correct those or any other problem
specifically.  What we do here at Punishment House is
to make sure that you have a very uncomfortable time
here.  Whether your owner has signed you up for one
hour or 48 hours, our job is to get you thinking about
behaving."

"Now, this is not a torture house, nor is it a pain
house.  The idea behind Punishment House is to give
your owners a place to send you where you can think
about your options.  A place where they can send you
while they cool off or you cool off.  It's a place
where you can decide to do something about specific
failures of yours that displease your owners.  Your
owner may have sent you here because you served him
from the right side at dinner when he wanted to be
served from the left side.  We are not going to train
you to serve from the left side.  But what we do here
is intended to make you think twice when serving, Let
me make sure I got this right and am serving him from
the proper side so I don't have to get sent back to
Punishment House."

"In the end, all of you are here for one reason.  You
are here because you tried to act like us free boys.
And you can't do that, because you are slaves.  You
simply have to do what we free boys tell you to do. I
don't know why it takes so many of you slaves so long
to learn that."  All of the free boy disciplinarians
were standing at attention during Tom's speech.  They
may be high school dropouts, but they at least were
behaving in a way that was not displeasing to society.

Tom continued, "All of you boys here in this room
should be very ashamed of yourselves.  When I look at
you standing here side by side I don't simply see 50
male slaves the way most people would.  I just see a
large mass of man/boy flesh that isn't being
productive.  I see wasted dollars. Income that is not
being generated, tasks not being accomplished, or
services not being provided, because you decided to
behave in some way that slaves are not supposed to
act.  You had to go and try and act like us free boys.
Your owners doubtless told you to do something, and
you decided not do it when asked, or do it your own
way, or talked back.  But you as slaves cannot do
that.  You have to do what your owners tell you. When
your owners give a command, you have to scurry.  That
is what is expected of slaves. When we free boys tell
you to do something, you better scurry to it!  You are
slaves, and that is what you have to do!"

"And by your actions you have not only let your owners
down, but you have let down our society as well.  For
the slave system to be successful it requires that
each one of you do your part.  Each of you has a
responsibility to work as hard as you can at making
the slave system a success for this great nation of
ours.  Do what is ordered of you.  Our new economy is
built on your dedication to service.  We cannot have
the system thwarted by you suddenly deciding you want
to take it easy, or doing things on your own good
time.  You have to do what we free boys tell you do."

"Well, I think I've said enough, and maybe now you can
begin to see that we folks who work here at Punishment
House are not a bunch of meanies.  We're just doing
our jobs, doing what we are supposed to be doing,
unlike all of you.  Okay, it's time for you slaves to
get buck horn-dog naked so my boys and I can get to
work on you!  You are each to go and stand next to one
of the gurneys, and you will notice underneath each
gurney is a wire basket.  Set the basket on the floor
in front of you and remove every item of clothing,
including any jewelry or collars or bracelets that are
removable, and put them in the basket.  When you are
completely stripped, put the basket back under the
gurney and hop up on the gurney and recline on your
backs."

At that moment a door on the other side of the room
opened, and a guard led in about 15 observers.  I
noticed Tony and Perry in the group. Tony and Perry
like several other of the observers, had hit the
vending machines before coming in to watch us get
disciplined, and they each had a bag of peanuts and a
can of iced tea.

Stripping for punishment is more humiliating then
stripping for serving, or for being displayed, or for
purposes of sex.  Stripping for punishment lets
everyone see what a naughty boy looks like all over.
Naked naughty boys show off all of their naughty parts
on their naughty bodies.  And naked naughty boys
present lots of flesh, and the more flesh surfaces
presented for punishment, the better.

The observers in the room were free people; they were
good people, so they didn't have to strip.  But they
got to watch us bad boy slaves strip.  And that is
what I know Tony and Perry were thinking, that we
slaves were bad boys and they were good boys.  It was
right and good that we were being made to strip.

Perry and Tony were whispering excitedly to each other
as they watched us strip, as were the other observers.

One slave boy balked at taking off his undies, and one
of the disciplinarians shouted out a verbal prod,
"What are you trying to hide?  You don't want us to
see your `little boy'?" The disciplinarians and
observers laughed.

By the time my undies came off, I could hear that I
was not the only cock-belled slave.  I heard the
tinkling of several other wiener bells. Nor was I the
only slave with tattoos.  Many slaves had tattoos.
But many slaves had things I didn't have.  Most of
them had brands on their rumps.  Many were tit ringed,
several were nose ringed. Several had permanent leg or arm
irons.  We all had collars.

Once we were all reclining naked on the gurneys one
disciplinarian went to each gurney and quickly
strapped us down with secure straps going firmly
around our arms, legs, neck, and midsection.

Each of the remaining disciplinarians went to a
strapped down slave, opened the storage unit
underneath the gurney, and started securing punishment
devices to various parts of the slave's body.  Soon
moans of pain and discomfort filled the room as every
part of the slave's body was fitted with various
devices.  The observers were very curious, and wanted
to come closer and watch, so Tom signaled for them
that it would be okay for the observers to come and
walk about the gurneys, or go stand next to the slave
they had accompanied.  The fittings of the punishment
devices went quickly, and soon all of us slaves were
writhing in pain.

Tom Lattimore addressed the observers; "When you strap
a naked slave boy to the gurney he quickly realizes
that he's finally going to get the discipline he
deserves.  And there's no way out of it for him;
strapped down and wiggling like a fish out of water,
trying to flail his arms, thrusting his hips, his
little dickie waggling.  But on the gurney he soon
settles down because he finally realizes he has no
choice; he's got to take whatever we dish out! There's
no way out of it this time."

Tony and Perry came up to me, and seeing all the
things attached to my body, Perry whistled, "Wow,
tough!"  Tom passed my gurney and Tony asked what all
the things were that were attached to my body.  Tom
smiled and came over, happy to provide information.
Tom shook hands with Tony and Perry as they introduced
themselves.  Tom looked at me and said, "Hi Billy.
How are Mr. Falkenberg and Lang doing?"  I grimaced
out, "They're okay."

Tom nodded, looked at Tony and Perry, then me, "Let me
point out to you the things that get put on a naughty
naked slave boy strapped down to a gurney here at
Punishment House."  As he pointed out each item
attached to my body, he named it; "Head clasp, hair
tugs, ear lobe clamps, neck yoke, cheek hooks, nose
scissors, tongue gripe, jaw clamp, elbow tethers,
bicep cinch-halters, armpit pin cushion, chest brick,
tit pinchers, penis choke, cock root grapnel, glands
muzzle, frenum pin, scrotum anchor, butt spreader,
anal plug, inner thigh mandibulator, knee pinion,
ankle vice, feet tacks, finger, thumb, and toe screws,
and, what you can't see, he's reclining on a
plasti-fiber pin cushion."

Tony and Perry watched me twitch uncomfortably as they
ate their peanuts.  The disciplinarians gathered at a
coffee urn, poured themselves coffee, and casually
chatted with each other as they monitored the room.

There we were; fifty slaves, naked, and strapped to
gurneys.  Being made to feel pain because our owners
were unhappy with us.  Fifty naked and naughty slave
boys who need to learn obedience.  Fifty slaves
feeling pain because we had stepped out of line.
Fifty slaves spending our day in torment, while our
owners were at the golf course, while our
disciplinarian sipped coffee and did crossword
puzzles, while our former friends watched, or were in
school, on holiday, or fucked their girlfriends.
Fifty slave boys who were learning they had better
start obeying if they didn't want to come back here.
Fifty slave boys who envied almost any free person
they saw.  Fifty slave boys at the mercy of a
rosy-cheeked head disciplinarian who enjoyed his job,
and who would stroll among the gurneys, observing the
writhing and uncomfortable slave boys.  A head
disciplinarian content with his lot, and satisfied
that he was doing his part to help us become better
slaves.  Fifty slaves who looked into the handsome
face of Thomas Lattimore as he looked down on them,
and gave pleading looks to him.  Looks that begged to
be given some relief from discomfort.  But our
disciplinarian only gazed back, impassive.

***

Tony and Perry arrived at noon on Thursday along with
Roy Garter and Hogan Rosenberry. In introductions to
Lang it was explained that Hogan was the group's team
captain for the slave games, and that the success of
the pulling contests depended in large part on how
well each player knew the team's slave.  Tony praised
Hogan; "Hogan has been giving us tons of valuable
information on controlling slaves during the games."

Hogan responded, "I think we're all going to make a
great team, we have Roy and me, two experienced
drivers, two new drivers, you guys, who are very eager
to learn every angle of slave gaming, and have a
competitive spirit and want very much to win.  And
finally we have what I am told is one very smart
drudge who is fit, compliant, able, and
quick-stepping.  We should do very well, indeed."

When Hogan turned to meet me, he said "Hi Billy", but
he didn't reach out to shake my hand.

Lang explained that he was running late and had to
leave to pick up his dad, and told Tony and Perry to
take very good care of me.  He showed them the cabinet
where the punishment implements were kept.  "I know
this must seem to you boys who don't deal with slaves
every day to be, on the surface at least, kind of
medieval.  But it's the kind of thing that has to be
done if you want a functioning, compliant, slave."

Tony gushed, "Man, in no way do I think you are
medieval.  Far from it!  You are totally cool.
`Enlightened' is what I would call you."

Lang smiled, "Why thank you, Tony.  I like to think
that I am.  A slave is like one of those airline
passenger jets.  Those things do amazing things, but
they need an overwhelming amount of support and
maintenance to function.  A slave is the same way.
Just look at Billy now.  He's happy and obedient, the
two things one ideally wants in a slave.  But the only
reason he is, is because of just such things as you
find in this cabinet.  Slaves need plenty of
`maintenance' to remind them to be good boys."

Tony wondered about whether he and Perry could use me
for `stuff', and Lang soon had Tony stammering,
regretting that he dared to bring such a thing up,
even in a roundabout way.  One thing those uninitiated
in slave culture perhaps don't know is that no slaver
is ever going to confide with non-intimates about
their sexual exploitation of slaves.  Did Tony
actually think that Lang, a straight man, would relate
to the four of them, "Oh sure, boys, practically every
day I have Billy lick my pits, play with my tits, and
fondle my balls, before he sucks me off.  Why don't
you boys go ahead and use Billy in the same way as I
do."  Lang, feigning a communication barrier, was
making Tony squirm as revenge for his audacity and
ignorance in daring to ask such a favor.  And I was
enjoying it immensely.

When Lang completed showing Tony and Perry the
essentials of my care, he went off to pack some
things.  Hogan was eager to get down to business;
"Billy looks good so far, but why don't we have Billy
get buck naked so that we can all get to know what
we'll be working with.  After all, we're going to be
gaming him naked, and we need to see which parts of
him work and which don't, learn where his tender spots
are, the spots on a given slave's body that are
especially sensitive to pain.  The tender spots are
different on every slave, and the only way we can find
them out is by trial and error."

As I took off my clothes, Hogan continued, "At some
point in his pre-game training at school we'll hitch
Billy up to the calibrator, and get a more scientific
read out on where his soft spots are.  It's a unique
system.  We lay Billy out and use small whips and
cover every part of his body.  The machines record
with pinpoint accuracy the decibel level of his
reactions to whip stimulus on each part of his body.
We run him through it about 10 times during the
training period, and then by averaging all of the
readouts we can get a pretty accurate picture of
Billy's `power points', those prime areas that if you
whip them, you are certain of getting a major
adrenaline exertion.  And, of course, it's that
adrenaline exertion, and only that, which is capable
of pulling those humongous slave weights."

"And from that same calibration record we sketch out a
game plan on Billy's body to see what parts of Billy's
body should serve as whipping, or contact points,
during the three stages of each pulling tournament. A
single match is divided into three segments.  In the
first segment you want to whip points on his body that
will get him to pull with all his might, and which
don't require great whip force.  Then you gradually
want to increase pressure of the whip strokes in phase
two of the game to bring the slave up to speed.  The
final three minutes of the game are where you go at
Billy's power points at full strength.  But you have
to be very judicious in how much skin you break and
blood you draw during the fierce whipping that takes
place at this stage.  If you tear up the flesh too
much during this stage your slave may not be good for
any further rounds.  It is only during the last, the
final climactic round, that full force can be used.
Most of the slaves are pretty bloody after this final
round, but it makes no difference because the games
are over and the slave can heal."

By this time I was stripped naked except for my
chastity garment.
"Holy Shit!" exclaimed Roy, and "Hallelujah!" screamed
Hogan as the two experienced gamers high-fived.  Hogan
was ecstatic, "Jeeze, Tony, why didn't you tell me
Billy was penis clamped?  This is super!  Penis
clamped slaves have a super edge!"  Roy and Hogan
continued to whoop it up excitedly.  Hogan shouted for
Lang, "Lang, I have a feeling your slave is going to
do some pretty amazing stuff for us in the games.  In
fact, I have no doubt that he will!"

Lang came down to see what the commotion was all
about, and seemed pleased to hear that Hogan was
giving me a good assessment.  Hogan wanted to get down
to business, "Can we get that clamp off so we check
him out?"

Lang nodded, exited, and came back a short time later
with the key to my penis clamp, and handed it to Tony;
"Make sure this clamp gets back on him as soon as you
guys are finished checking him out.  And when that
clamp is off don't you dare let Billy masturbate or
out of your sight for so much as one second. If he
needs to use the bathroom one of you guys has to
accompany him.  He has been behaving like an angel
since I got him clamped over a month ago, and I don't
want to risk wasting a single drop of his
good-behavior energy towards a selfish release."

Tony gave Lang the thumbs up, "You got it Lang!
Billy's cock is going to be nothing but a piss spigot
while he is in our hands!"

Tony came up to me, figured out how to unlock the
penis clamp, and when it came off he was unprepared
for the inner parts; a cock sheath, a cock root ring,
penis and ball straps, a molded plasti-screen genital
guard, molded thigh O rings, and erection control
bands for both the cock head and the shaft.  Roy said,
"Fuck, that looks complicated!"  Hogan told everyone
not to worry, that he was familiar with Billy's model
penis clamp because he usually clamped all the slaves
he gamed with at least two weeks before a tournament,
so he was familiar with a wide variety of penis
clamps.

Hogan came forward and helped Tony removed all the
pieces of the clamp.  As their hands touched me I
could not control my erection which shot up with a
speed I had never before seen it do.  Hogan almost
jumped backwards, "Whoa!"  Tony shouted, "Easy there,
big fella!"  Everyone laughed.

Lang smiled, "Wow!  Look at that thing.  I think
abstinence has made Billy's waggler grow a couple of
inches!"

Roy was pleased, "This is good for team morale. I
assure you, when the chicks in the stands see our
entrant horned up like the Apollo moon rocket; we are
going to be hearing some pretty loud cheers of
support!  That noise from the crowd, all the screams
and cheers, really gets us drivers worked up and gets
us fucking stoked!"

Lang seemed pleased with Hogan's hopes for me, but he
had to leave to pick up his dad at the office, and
from there they were going to spend a night at their
vacation home.  As he left he again warned Tony and
Perry to take very good care of me.

As soon as Lang left, Roy suggested that they get some
beer and put me through a few preliminary trials.
Perry did the beer run while Hogan, Roy, and Perry
talked about how excited they were to have me to game.

When Perry returned with the beers the guys all took
seats in big easy chairs in the living room, and told
me to stand in the middle of the room.  Hogan sort of
took control of the proceedings, "All right Billy, if
you would, I'd like you stand nice and tall and at
attention right here in the middle of the room, and I
want you tell us all a little bit about yourself, how
you're feeling right now, what your hopes are, and
your thoughts about us being here and assessing you."

I actually expected treatment that would make me
angry, and I was quite prepared to control my anger,
but I must remark that I was nowhere prepared for
being questioned in such a pompous manner by a college
sports jock who was my age.  But I maintained my calm,
"Sirs, I am feeling excited about the games, and I
hope we win the games.  And I am happy to be assessed
if it will help our team to win."

Everyone sipped their beers and smiled, pleased, at
each other.  Tony asked, "Billy, do you harbor any
resentment towards Perry and me, since we are free
college boys, and you're now going to be our game
boy?"

"No, not at all Tony."

He continued, "Billy, do you envy us free boys?"

"No sir."

"Would you like a beer?"

"Yes sir."

"Too bad!  You can't have one!"  The four free boys
laughed and took more swallows of their beer.  Tony
was winning Hogan over with his ability to verbally
taunt slaves.  Hogan asked my friends why Lang had me
penis clamped.

Tony answered, "Because he's a homo pig boy compulsive
masturbator!"

Hogan sipped his beer and smiled, "Well I don't care
if he's straight or homo, because as long as we've got
a clamped, girly-pretty, compulsive, pig-boy,
masturbator with a steel hard-on the size of Milwaukee
on our team, we are in clover!"

Roy added his insight, "You know how it is, Hogan;
when we draw blood on the pretty boy types the chicks
turn into tigers!"  He grabbed his crotch, "Oh man,
the babes are going to be lining up to party on our
rods!"

Perry and Tony were gulping their brews, "Fuck!  Why
didn't we get into slave gaming sooner?"

Roy added, "That's nothing.  You should see the crowd
react when we pull out the `butt barbs'."

"Butt barbs!" hooted Perry.  "What are those?"

Hogan was surprised at my friends' ignorance, "Fuck
man, I really need to fill you guys in how the games
work."  Hogan took a big sip of beer before he began,
"You need to know the format of the tournament.
College slave tournaments are modeled a good bit in
overall form on the bullfights of Spain.  In the
Preliminary Phase of the games the slaves are all
marched out into the ring, naked, led by a tether to
their nose rings, which is held by the team captain.
Along side each of the captains walks the other three
team members, that will be you two guys, and Roy. The
slaves are usually decorated with colorful paper
wreaths, a headdress, and jewelry.  The gamers are
dressed in their traditional uniforms, which consists
of spiked shoes, which can be used to kick a slave in
the ass, gaming shorts and gaming vests.  At this
stage we do one complete walk around of the ring to
the cheers of the crowd.  It's a real proud moment for
the slaves, knowing they are the objects of so much
attention."

"In the First Stage the team leaders, those are the
gamers who rank just below the team captain, (and that
will be determined by tryouts in the nine days of
training before the games begin) come out with their
slaves, who by this time are divested of all their
decorations and are totally nude.  The gamers carry
with them their tall and slender `harpy whips' and
`slave lances', or `butt barbs', and the goal of the
First Stage is to provoke the slaves into a real
gaming spirit.  This is usually done by taunting the
slaves with the whips, making them jump around by
snapping the whip at their feet and legs, and through
verbal assaults.  The whole goal of the First Stage is
to get the slaves' adrenaline flowing, and that is
usually accomplished for certain once the leaders
start jabbing the slaves in their asses with the
lances. The leaders are sort of like the picadors in a
bullfight, who jab the bulls with banderillas to get
the bulls angry. The lances are similar to the
banderillas used on bulls during a bullfight.   They
are basically a very sharp hypodermic type injection
needle on the end of the stick.  They have an
adjustable stop guard that can be set at a quarter,
half-inch and three-quarter inch length.  Each leader
has to decide what depth of needle plunge is needed to
motivate their slave.  But once the leaders start
jabbing the slaves in their asses with the lances both
the crowd and the slaves go wild.  It's a totally hot
part of the game."

"The second stage of the game is the actual set of
weight pulling matches.  There are eight rounds per
day for the five-day period.  We each get to wield the
whip and drive Billy during a match twice a day."

"The final stage is the playoff round between the two
leading teams of the day."

Tony's beer was mellowing him out, "God, this is
beautiful man.  How we are being reunited with our old
best pal Billy.  It's just a really special thing."

The beer was taking its effect on all of the free
boys, and Hogan and Roy had the sense to take their
leave while they could still drive home.

After farewells and the exits, a glassy eyed Perry
came up to me and hugged me, "Billy, I love you man!
I fuckin love ya man!"  He embraced me hard and
squeezed me.  I could feel his hardon against my leg.
I was amused, though wary, so I said, "I love you too,
Perry."  He gently started doing a swaying humping of
the sort a guy would do to while slow dancing with his
gal in the privacy of their apartment.  He was drunk,
I was horny, and so I let him.  I noticed a cell phone in
his back pocket, so I pulled it out and tossed it onto
Lang's small pillow saturated couch, which no one ever
sat on.  The phone hit a pillow, and sank into the
folds of the couch.

Tony came from the bathroom and joined us, putting his
arms around the both of us.  He rubbed me on my behind
like I was a mascot. "This is our boy, our little
Billy, with the naughty behind."  Perry had his eyes
closed and was swaying and grinding to some unheard
music, and moaned, "Can our little Billy recite a
slave mantra for us?"

I was hard and possibly about to get my rocks off, so
I recited a mantra, "By rendering service to my owner,
and rendering service to my owner's friends, I render
myself the highest service of all."  Perry moaned,
"Ooooh, that was nice, Billy."

I wanted to go on gyrating, but I didn't want my
`friends' to get out of the party mood.  As I broke
away, Perry said, "Where you going little guy?"  I
told him I would be right back as he and Tony kept
doing a slow dance.  I soon came back with beers for
the both of them.  They both had momentarily forgot
about beer, but were obviously happy to be reminded of
its existence, as they chugged them down.

Eventually I led them to the couch, and sat with them
until they both stretched out and fell asleep.  I got
the chastity belt key from the coffee table and
Perry's cell phone from the couch, put on some shorts,
and went into the back yard and called my youngest
brother, Timothy, and told him our conversation was
very confidential, and that I needed him this very
night to get me a list of supplies, and to have a copy
of a key made for me.

Timothy was over within an hour, we met in a
pre-arranged, dark, unlit, part of the Falkenberg's
yard, and I gave him the key to my penis clamp for
him to copy, and a list of critical items.  I told him
that I probably would not be able to meet him when he
returned with the requested items, but pointed out to
him some property dividing shrubbery where he was to
place the items.

Later that evening I found all of the items which I
had requested of my brother in the bushes.  I brought
them into the house and hid them.  Then, while my baby
sitters snored in the living room, I went to my room,
pulled up a pile of porn from the Internet, and jacked
off three times in a row.

I went to bed and slept wonderfully.  When I went down
in the morning, Tony and Perry were still snoring off
their beer.  I made breakfast.  They eventually woke
up, ate breakfast, and noticed only a couple of hours
later that my penis clamp was still on the coffee
table.  They were upset when they realized that they
were responsible for me having my penis all to myself
for the night, and asked why I didn't ask them to put
it back on.  I told them that when they tried to refit
me with my penis clamp, they couldn't find the key,
and that we had all spent a good amount of time
looking for the key, and that they had fallen asleep
before it was found.

Hearing this, they both became frantic as they
searched for the key.  "Shit!  Lang will be furious!"
Hollered Perry.  Tony was angry, "I suppose you were
jackin-off all night long!"  I said, "No. Perry
jacked me off while you sucked him off. Then you
ordered me to suck you off, but you were too drunk to
get your clothes off, and eventually just fell
asleep."

They both were silent, clearly angry with themselves,
each other, and the world as they rushed around trying
to deal with what I had just told them.  They didn't
talk to each other for almost the entire day.

When Lang and Mr. Falkenberg returned home and
realized that my baby sitters had gotten dead drunk,
and lost the key to my penis clamp, they were both,
indeed, furious.  Lang ordered me to start looking for
the key along with Tony and Perry.  Tony and Perry
were very worried over upsetting Lang, and even seem
to be terrified of him.  As they rushed around looking
for the key they made lame excuses for themselves.
Lang scoffed at them.

I surreptitiously placed the key on the phone table,
and soon Perry found it.  He gave it to Lang, and
Lang, relieved, had a few words to say, "I am very
glad for this episode.  You boys clearly have no idea
how much a slave like Billy is worth.  And I certainly
am not going to put him in your charge ever again.
Needless to say, Billy will not be available to you
for the college slave games."

Tony and Perry were crushed.  They stammered, they
made excuses, and Perry almost cried.  They openly
worried what Hogan would say about them in public.
Lang watched them bumble.  Mr. Falkenberg led them to
the door, "You two useless turds had better watch out,
because I don't think you're going to get far in
life!"  He slammed the door, and addressed Lang in the
angriest tone I had ever heard from him, "What in the
hell made you think those two boozers were fit
guardians for Billy?  You should be ashamed of
yourself!"

Mr. Falkenberg came over to me, hugged me, and said,
"God, if we ever lost you, little Billy, I would be
heartsick."   He patted me on the back of the head,
and said, magnanimously, "Billy, after all you have
been through at the hands of those two drunks, I'm not
going to put the penis clamp back on you until
tomorrow.  I want you to go to your room and have some
fun!"

My eyes started to tear up, "No, Mr. Falkenberg.
Please, put the clamp back on me.  I want all of my
energy focused on serving only you and Lang.  Please,
don't tempt me to masturbate.  I want to be a good
boy.  Please lock me back up."

Mr. Falkenberg was overcome, "Oh my God, Lang, what a
slave we have in Billy!  Let's get our precious boy
locked up."  As Mr. Falkenberg and Lang locked me up
in my penis clamp I never felt so loved, happy,
hopeful, and triumphant.