Date: Fri, 20 Nov 2015 15:36:41 +0000 (UTC)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: PASSING - PART FIVE

PASSING
A story by Pete Brown  (petebrownuk@yahoo.com)
Part  Five     More conversation with a slaver. Sam revealed.  Making a movie.

Perhaps I'd touched a raw nerve even speculating about the extent of Dave's
illegal business dealings, and it was clear that he wanted to change the
subject completely.  And, fascinating though it was to see more about how
the slave trade worked at this end of the market, I did have me own problem
that needed working on.  And I certainly didn't want to tell him more about
my life than I absolutely needed to.

So I used the old trick of simply answering the part of a "stacked" series
of questions that I wanted to. "Yes, Sam likes to think he knows
everything. But age and experience will always triumph over youth and
enthusiasm as the old saying goes!  And I do manage to keep some of my
private affairs secret from him.  Anyway, it's quite simple, really.  I've
acquired a slave. And I need the position regularised."

"A pillar of society like you?  `Regularised'..?"

"It's a little complicated.  I discovered a slave who has been `passing'.
Pretending to be a free man, and rather successfully so.  For several
years.  And I decided to `claim' him."

"Claim?"

"Well, rather more than that.  I - or rather my slave Greg and I - seized
him.  And now he's at my place, he's my slave."

"Well who would have thought it!  When I first saw you, I thought you were
the very essence of law-abiding public rectitude.  And now `seizing' a
slave.  Keeping an illegal slave for yourself...."

"He's not illegal!  He`s a proper slave, with a SIN tattooed on his arm and
everything."

"Yes, but if he's been `passing`, then the slave is guilty of a serious
crime.  He won't even be bull whipped - just executed.  And they could make
the case that you have been harbouring him - an escaped slave, a slave who
was `passing`.  You knew, and you didn't immediately inform the Slave
Police."

"Oh I'm sure they won't see it that way..."

"And why not?  The SP get a bonus, you know, based on the `takings' they
make from dealing with slaves.  So if they decided to investigate and you
were found guilty and enslaved and sold, they'd get 25% of that - you'd
fetch a good price, as you look in good condition for a what - thirty three
year old."

"Thirty five...."

"Very good condition. Then there's selling all your property - including
that slave Greg, a good looking slave, worth a lot - and your savings,
pension fund.... Why wouldn't they try to enslave you? "

"But the law...."

"As I said, it looks as if you're harbouring the slave.  He's presumably at
your place now, and has been for some time."

"A couple of days...."

"Long enough.  You get 24 hours to report escapees, and after that...."

This looked serious!  Or perhaps this Dave was bluffing, trying to scare me
so he could strike some sort of deal.  But I don't scare easily - I always
play for high stakes in business.  I'm used to playing my cards close to my
chest, so shrugged nonchalantly.  He gave me a long, slow stare then said
"Anyway, we might as well see how bad things really are.  You said this
slave had a SIN tattoo?"

I reeled off the eight digits - numbers come easily to me of course.

Dave typed them into his terminal and I could see him reading and kind of
nodding.  "Hmmm... A good looking property, or at least he was when he was
enslaved and just before he escaped."

"Very good looking.  That's what attracted me to him - he was sitting
opposite me on the tube.  Then I saw his SIN by accident."

Dave looked at me seriously "My best advice to you...."

"Yes?"

"My best advice is to forget all about this.  Have the slave vanish. Forget
you ever had anything to do with it."

"Well if he went free how could I be sure he wouldn't come back? Even try
to blackmail me?"

"When I say `vanish' I mean just that.  Have it `disappeared', as we say in
the trade.  Removed from the face of the planet.  His record will remain
open for 100 years and then be wiped.  I can arrange that, for a modest
fee."

"Disappeared?  What do yo mean?"

"Do I need to spell it out?  Well, killed. And the body disposed of.  It
will go out to the disposal works at Becton and be ground up for pet food,
like all the other dead slaves."

"You can't be serious!  Kill a slave?  A slave like that?"

"I am serious.  Perhaps it's you who is not being serious, not serious
enough about the position you find yourself in.  Dispose of this slave, or
get yourself enslaved.  You can always buy another slave if you find this
one so attractive.  Slaves in this condition of his age don't come cheap,
but you look as if you could easily afford it, if I may say so."

"Yes, I could afford it.  I bought Greg, who was expensive, years ago when
I didn't even have as much as I do now.  But that's not the point."

"Well what is the point?  The killing?  It's a slave, you know, not a free
man.... Slaves get killed all the time, at work.... Or with a Court order
if they have been violent or whatever."

"It's not that.  It's just that this one's special..."

He almost sneered.  "Another mistake, then.  Falling for a slave!  And
after only a couple of days!  You really ought to think `buy `em, fuck `em,
sell 'em'. No romantic involvement with a slave. It's madness."

I slammed my hand down on the desk with anger and frustration. "How dare
you! What do you take me for?  Some sort of idiot who has nothing better to
do than have sex with slaves?"

I rarely lose my temper and show it publicly. I do lose it frequently, but
I have learned not to show it.  So it's rare for me to make a public
display like that.  Then I realised that this Dave was pretty good at
meetings, too, as he gave that same little smirk and said quietly "Except
that Greg, of course.  Pretty fond of him, I suppose. You've had him all
this time..."

I recovered my composure instantly, and smiled.  "What? Fuck Greg?  No,
he's just there to provide services any gentleman requires - he's got a
good mouth and a trained throat.  But how did you know I've had him for
some time?"

"The girl saw his SIN and I looked it up before I came out to meet you.
The value of a slave a man has is a useful guide to how wealthy he is in
general."

"Look, I don't want the slave killed, as he's mine.  And yes, of course I
could afford one like him. Better than him, if I wanted.  But that's not
the point.  It's more complicated."

"How so?"

"I suppose you'd call it `the thrill of the chase'.  I saw this slave
`passing'. I made a plan and did something about it. And now it's mine.
The spoils of my labour. Something I did."  I leaned forward to show we
were being confidential and went on "I fight for things all the
time. That's what I do.  I fight to make deals, deals that give the very
best return for my company.  When I started out it a very personal, and a
huge load of fun - outwitting the opposition, wheeling and dealing,
scheming, making things happen...  Now it's my people who have all the
day-to-day action: I supervise, orchestrate, manage them... I cut huge,
huge deals, but it's not as much fun."

"So there I was on the tube to the office for another day of making money,
and there's this stunning man.  And then I see he's a slave. Illegally
`passing'.  And now he's mine, through my efforts. It's a bit like the old
days - I've got something through my own direct efforts.  And I'm not about
to let it go!  So whatever the cost, there needs to be a way through this -
money isn't an issue here."

Dave was smiling now.  "Yes, I understand!  My parents wanted me to go into
law, or into the city, or something.  But I only ever wanted to be doing
something for myself, and dealing with slaves - or, rather, resolving
problems with slaves, not so much dealing, is so satisfying."

"I think we understand each other then.  So what's the first step?"

"You need to leave it with me for a couple of days whilst I look into a few
things. You could bring the slave here for safe keeping..."

"No, I'm enjoying the interplay with my other slave."

"You're putting yourself at a higher risk, keeping it around our place. If
there should be a raid..."

"In my building, there are no raids!  There's a senior police officer
living five floors below me, and a government minister eight down."

"I'll be in touch then...."

At that moment the slave girl from reception came in and said, rather
familiarly I thought, "That nephew of yours is here."

Before any of us could do or say anything, Sam burst into the room.  He was
looking even more interesting than usual - tight, low-slung jeans, and a
leather bomber jacket emphasised his pert little bum. And he was bouncing
around, full of fitness and vitality.

"Dave!  And.... Sir!  I just came to see if everything was OK."

Dave glared at him.  "I've told you to stay out of here when I've got
clients.  We might have been in the middle of important business."

"I wanted to make sure my boss was OK...."

"Well of course I am!  You must have seen Greg outside, and you know that
if he was there nothing serious could happen."

Dave grinned.  "It's his usual curiosity.  He wants to know
everything. Wants to be in on everything."  He winked at me, out of Sam's
sight, and went on smoothly "Now you're here, though, you can help me out.
You do want to help, right?  To do me a favour?"

"Yes, of course, Dave."

"It's the new pictures for the website.  I'm going to have Timmy here
feature - I'm not going to sell him yet, but it might drive some business
through the doors when they see his nice little body.  I'll get the
camera."  He turned to me and added "You're welcome to stay....", winking
again.  So I nodded.

It wasn't particularly interesting at first - although Timmy has that nice
slim little body I've told you about, and the way he was so thin and
totally shaved made him look very young, he basically is not "my type".
Dave had him done in the tiny shorts, and then had him strip them off
almost coquettishly, before doing several totally naked poses where he also
had to erect himself, and then bend right over for close-ups of his
asshole.

Then Dave asked me "Could I use that slave of yours?  He's in better
physical condition than any of the stock out in the cages, as you've
seen. And I want some pictures with more than one body in them."

"I'd rather not. And in any case wouldn't it be rather dishonest,
suggesting you had him for sale, when he's not?  You can't be too careful
with the trade inspectors always looking for misrepresentations..."

"You're right. But we can show pictures of the slave Timmy and a free man,
providing I don't say it's two slaves."  His gaze turned and he went on
smoothly "So come on then, Sammy, out of those clothes, and let's do the
business...."

"Hey Dave, no way!  I'm not having my pictures splashed all over the web."

"I won't show your face.  Just your body.  I want Timmy across your lap and
you spanking him, as this gives a good hint of some of the specialised
services I offer.  Come on, you owe me a few favours..."

Sam looked kind of helplessly at me.  "Don't mind me, Sam.  We're all men
here. I've seen enough naked men in my time - I used to play rugger at
university, you know, and the showers..."

"No, I really don't want to, Dave."

"Sammy, I think you've forgotten a few little things I've helped you keep
from your mom, and step mom, and her bloke, and your aunts, and cousins....
You owe me.  Now, get that jacket and shirt off."

Slowly, very slowly, he undid his jacket and hung it carefully on the back
of one of Dave's chairs, then unbuttoned his shirt and untucked it from his
jeans.  I'd always wanted to see the whole of his torso, and not just the
glimpses I'd seen between shirt buttons, and I wasn't disappointed.  Not a
trace of fat.  Lovely smooth skin. No unsightly rows of muscles, but
clearly fit and muscular nevertheless.  And a very nicely finished navel -
tucked in - from which a faint treasure trail ran downwards.  To add to the
excitement his jeans were so low-hanging that there was a couple of
centimetres of the waistband of his underwear showing.

There was a bit of messing around then as Dave took shots, posing Timmy's
pert little body across Sam's lap, then getting Sam to spank him, albeit
gently.  Finally he seemed to have stopped and Sam stood up, looking
relieved.  Then Dave turned to me and said quietly "I don't know if it's
only me - but you look like a man who understands slaves and knows what he
likes...  Did you think this was erotic?  It's desire that drives a lot of
this business."

"Yes, it was erotic... A bit."

"I thought so.  We need to do more.  Sammy, off with those jeans and
underwear."

"No way!"

"Come on, Sammy! Do it for Dave... And remember all your family.  And as
your boss says, we're all men here, and we've all seen naked blokes before.
And I can tell from that bulge in your jeans you've got nothing to be
ashamed of... You're always flashing yourself around, showing it off to
pull in the women..."

"No, Dave!"

"I don't like to pressure you, Sammy.  But remember that money you
borrowed?  I haven't seen any of the repayments yet....  It sounds a bit
ungrateful to me, not wishing to return a favour when I've been so patient
about the money.  You can look at it as a way of paying off some of the
interest..."

It was my turn now.  "Sam hasn't borrowed money from you has he, Dave?  The
financial Services Authority is very hot on unauthorised loans from
irregular lenders.  They think it exposes people working in the industry to
pressure. I hope there isn't a loan, as I'd have to report it and Sam's
chances of a good job..."  This wasn't strictly true, of course. But it
sounded good.

Slowly and reluctantly Sam undid his belt and his flies, pushed the jeans
to the floor with some difficulty as they were so tight, levered his shoes
off, and stepped out of the jeans.  He stood there in his small, tight,
shorts - the little legs made his thighs look particularly appealing.  His
arms were wrapped around himself, as if to give him some comfort or
protection.

"All the way, Sammy."

"Dave, please.  You can take the photos of him lying on my lap like this.
They won't see my underwear..."

"They will, or they might. And it will inhibit my photography.  Now, off
with them."

Sammy was even slower now, but once the waistband was down beyond his cock
- which interestingly was half-hard so he evidently find it too distressing
- he kind of dropped them quickly and stepped out of them.  Now he was
almost defiant as he stood in front of us.

"...and the socks.  We can't have one slave in bare feet and another who is
supposed to be a slave too with socks on."

On those occasions when I've watched them, and in the changing rooms when I
had time for sport, I've always enjoyed seeing men take their socks off.
They sort of perch on one foot, bend their other leg to pull the sock off,
then repeat it with the other foot.  And all the time they are doing this
the muscles in their backsides and thighs are stretching and bending, their
cocks are waving around, and if you're lucky you might even get a glimpse
of their taint.  But not on this occasion.  But I suppose you can't have
everything.

Dave then directed Sammy to sit in one of the chairs, and to straddle Timmy
across his lap.  My own cock was ramrod hard now as I could imagine the
feeling of the hot, sweaty flesh of both young men pressed close to each
other.  And when Dave positioned Timmy to be more kind of "central", their
two cocks must have been right together.  And there's nothing as good as
another man's cock pressed against yours, I think.  I wondered if Timmy and
Sam were enjoying it as much as I was!

The spanking was mildly interesting, but only in as much as it caused Timmy
to writhe and squirm about - if their cocks had not been erect before, all
this motion would be rubbing them so hard they now would be, I reasoned.

When Dave said he'd got enough images, Timmy stood up and stood there
rubbing at his flaming red bum with his hands - and, indeed, he was erect.
And under the light I'm sure I could see a drop of pre-cum drooling out of
the end of his cock.  Poor Sam, though - as soon as Timmy stood up he
clutched at his crotch to cover himself with both hands before standing.
But then he realised the difficulty he had - presumably he didn't want us
to see his erection, and yet with it shielded by his hands there was no way
he could dress.  It's not surprising, I suppose - even men who are used to
being naked together in the changing rooms never want other men to see them
erect, and I've seen many men making frantic attempts to drag a towel
around themselves if it seems to be happening.

Sam chose to fix the problem by turning his back to us and reaching out for
his underwear, but Dave winked at me and reached over and slapped his bum -
not hard, but enough to make Sam gasp and involuntarily turn around.  Sure
enough, as I'd thought he would, he had a very, very nice erect cock.  It
was stretched so high that it looked as if his cock head would bump into
his belly.  That's one really good thing about young men, I think: the
force of their erections.  As you get older somehow it's never the same,
and they barely go above the horizontal.  And sure enough, he too had a
little jewel of shiny pre-cum.

Sam was blushing desperately as he pulled on his little shorts, trying to
stuff his cock into them and only half succeeding, and then pulling up his
jeans - I bet he wished now that he hadn't got those ultrafashionable,
ultra-tight ones.  He didn't speak to us as he put his shirt on, and Dave
said to me "I bet that's the only time you've heard young Sammy be quiet
for more than thirty seconds!"

I said goodbye to Dave then, with him saying again that we'd be in contact
in a couple of days, and we went out through the slave pens and the yard
which now I saw was full of men alone doing sexual exercises - one of the
guards was ordering them to all wank themselves in unison.

"Sir, don't tell anyone at the office, will you?", Sam whispered.

"Of course not!  But you've got nothing to be ashamed of, you know.  Most
of the men there would be glad to have a cock like yours, especially as
they're so much physically taller generally.  And I understand some of the
women already know, they've had practical experience of it, I'm told."

I saw Sam smile then, and he was clearly recovering his normal happy self.
And proud of himself, too, in that endearing way he has.

Greg was waiting for us in reception still, and as we went through the door
he frantically tried to brush the girl off him - she was twining herself
all over him, it looked like, and her tits were brushing against his bare
chest through the crack where the zipper of his fleece had slipped down.
"Thank god, sir...."

"I thought you weren't interested in the woman, Greg.  You could have gone
all the way, you know."

"It's not me, sir.  It's her.  She's been all over me, sir.  I've had to
hold her off..."

"Are you sure, Greg?", Sam asked.  "It looks to me as if you're pretty
interested!"  He pointed at the bulge in Greg's shorts as he said this, and
both Sam and I laughed - which didn't seem to amuse Greg at all.

By the time we'd got back to my apartment I'd thought about what I needed
to do, and I needed a good camera - I usually use the one in my
communicator, but the need now was for the ability to film for a long time.
I was impatient to proceed, and didn't want to risk the "guaranteed on the
day delivery" services, so decided to go up to Tottenham Court Road to buy
one.  It was a god opportunity to get some exercise, too, so I changed into
my running gear, and told Greg to do so too as we could run together.

It's a good run across Green Park and then up the mass of small streets to
avoid most of the worst of the traffic fumes, and I soon found a camera in
the Tottenham Court Road stores, and a tripod to hold it on - although it
took three shops and a lot of bargaining to get the price to rock-bottom -
I just have to do this, I can't stand wasting money.  And then we ran home
- I really pushed the pace because I wanted to show Greg he wasn`t the only
fit one (especially as he had to carry the camera and tripod, which,
although no particularly heavy, did obstruct a runner's really free style).

Jason was slumped in a corner when we got back, and it looked as if the
lazy bugger had fallen asleep.  I woke him up with a good kick (not too
hard as I didn't want to damage him, and certainly not to the head, or the
balls, as I wanted to keep him in good condition).  It amused me then to
tell Greg to give him a good workout as I caught up on the Weekend
Financial Times, and I half-watched as he was made to run on the spot, do
star jumps, and pres-ups, and things like that - his cock and balls bobbing
up and down were probably rather uncomfortable as although he clearly was
used to working out he`d probably always done it wearing some sort of
support like a jock strap or in-built supporters in shorts.  Half way
through I told Greg that perhaps he needed to do some more work on his
fitness too as he'd been "breathing hard" when we got back from the shops.
He scowled at me but did of course obey, and it got harder for Jason then
as Greg attempted to show that he was fitter than Jason!  It didn't seem
fair to have Jason mostly naked, so I told Greg he could keep his T on but
to lose his shorts, too - which he didn't like.  I was really distracted
from the FT then as seeing two semi-naked men working out competitively is
really quite arousing.  In the afternoon I worked away on my scheme, and by
teatime I was ready.

Greg had been trying to watch a big rugby game on TV (with the sound turned
right down so as not to disturb me, and probably in the hope that I
wouldn't notice as he knows I dislike sport on TV.  To me, sport's
something you do - running, skiing, squash... not a passive thing you
watch. And even the sight of the professional rugby players isn't really
all that good these days - I guess at the start of the century all those
big fit men bending over in the scrum in very, very tight shorts would have
been extraordinarily erotic. But now you can go into any of the slave sex
places and have big fit men bend over in front of you in real life, and
without the shorts!

As the game as getting to its climax with only a few points at stake and
five minutes to go, I stopped what I was doing and flipped the TV off.  I
enjoyed seeing the disappointment on Greg's face, followed by a flash of
anger, but he did not of course criticise me.  When I used to live with a
man (a free man, that is) it would have caused a torrent of abuse, but
Greg's been my slave no for long enough to know that I will not tolerate
any dissent.

I told him what I wanted, and soon he was clambering around - making Jason
co-operate, too - in pinning a white bed sheet to the top of the curtains
to make a plain backdrop.  I then had Jason sit on a small set of steps
(kept somewhere around to make it easy to change light bulbs or whatever)
in front of it.

"Right, Jason.  You're going to tell us your life story.  I want just the
key details - what you did at uni, your first job, your enslavement,
escape, how you got a job with George, "passing" as a free man for all that
time, and how you managed to get all the right financial sign-offs in spite
of not having free man's papers...."

He began, and soon I stopped him, barking "too long".  And after a time
when he seemed to be incapable of just stating the facts and I had to keep
correcting him, I warned him to mend his ways or else I would order Greg to
spank him again.  That mostly seemed to do the trick. As he was speaking I
wrote key words on individual pages from my pad, in very large
letters. Then I rehearsed him, making him go through the story again, and
again, and again, as I held up the pages.

"Please... This is so boring...." He whined.

"Again!"

After that, it seemed to be about right.  He had it all, quite smooth and
"natural" sounding. Not as if he had been rehearsed, or coerced.

"Now, I'm going to film it.  You'll see we have a plain background, and
you'll only be seen from the waist up so no details of the apartment will
be visible.  This is going to be totally untraceable.  But first..."

I went into the bedroom and fished out my white shirt I'd worn the previous
day from the laundry basket, and came back and threw it at him.  "Off with
that T, and put this on.  I want you to look like a professional".

He dared to sniff sort of suspiciously at my shirt!  Sure, I had sweat a
lot on Friday, but so what?  And I had to snap at him again to get a move
on.  Somehow he looked even more erotic standing there in the shirt than he
had in the singlet - the shirt was just that bit shorter on him as he's so
tall, so the bottom couple of centimetres of his cock hung down below the
hem.  I told him to sit back on top of the steps, and then positioned the
camera so he was properly framed and in focus, and made him say a few lines
so I could tell it was picking up the sound OK.

"Now, here's the rules for the live show, Jason.  Listen well.  You're
going to go through your life story one more, and only once, as I film as I
want it to sound really spontaneous. I'll stand behind the camera and show
you your cue cards to make sure you don't miss anything out.  And to focus
your mind and give you just that little degree of nervousness that might be
expected if this was truly the first time you'd done it, Greg here is going
to lie on the floor out of shot, and hold your balls.  At the merest signal
from me he'll squeeze them good and hard.  So don't upset me, don't make me
get Greg to hurt you.  Understand?"

I'd been motioning to Greg to position himself during this, and I could see
him now reaching up to find Jason's balls as he sat there.  This was all
doubly exciting for me as not only was Jason nervous and hating it, but so
was Greg!  He still thinks of himself as "straight" as I've told you, and
it was a huge effort initially to get him to suck my cock, which he still
hates doing.  So making him hold Jason's balls was a really unpleasant task
for him.

We got through the filming first time, though, and watching it I was
pleased with the result - "spontaneous", with just the right amount of
hesitancy and nervousness.  And absolutely no clues as to where it had been
filmed.  The part where Jason had had to hold up his arm to show his SIN
was particularly effective, and wearing my expensive white shirt really
added to the idea that he was a business executive.

I encrypted the movie and uploaded it into my secure virtual server in the
cloud, then told Greg to run down to the river and throw the camera and
tripod in - I didn't want there to be any possibility of it being traced
back to me, and I suspect camera makers secretly encode all sorts of
invisible "watermarks" to assist police in tracing the origin of things.

A previous arrangement to a dinner with senior work colleagues and their
wives took me out then - tedious for me, and somewhat awkward for them I
suppose as the table seating is all wrong when there's couples, plus one.
The wives didn't know what to say to me, understanding that chattering
about girlfriends might be unfortunate. But the food was excellent as you'd
expect with two Michelin stars (I'd managed to convince all the others in
the firm over my time there that paying the even higher prices for three
stars really is not good value for money!) And we had excellent Krug as an
aperitif, and a stunning Chateau Palmer.  I was glad it was not me picking
up the bill - although I suspected it would be charged to the company so
some part of it would come out of my next bonus!

There was that general air of tension when I got back, and when I was in
bed and ordered Greg to come in and suck my cock, he did it with even worse
humour than he usually did. And all through the night there were muffled
sounds through the wall, that were not conducive to a good night's sleep.

On Sunday morning therefore faced with the simmering resentment between the
two slaves, and of me by both of them, I decided to act.  I suppose I could
have caned both of them to improve their attitude, but instead called Dave.

"You said it would take a couple of days before you had everything ready
for Jason, but could you take him now?  There are a few of your `fixes' I
want for him, and it occurs to me that you could be getting on with those
whilst the paperwork or whatever is sorted out."

"Sure!  And it will be good to see you again, anyway.  Perhaps we could go
out for a beer and a sandwich afterwards...?"

I shuddered at the thought of beer, but I liked Dave, as I've told you, so
I agreed.

As we had to transport Jason I broke one of my golden rules and called a
minicab.  I specified one with a slave driver so he would appreciate what
was going on, and when it arrived I had Greg bundle Jason into the boot for
the journey.

End Of Part Five

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