Date: Sun, 16 Jan 2005 00:53:40 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 13

PLEASURE SLAVE, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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


Part 13

I only wish that Master Brett had dismissed me from
his office a few moments sooner, as Master Jed came in
just then - as usual, he didn't knock or anything, and
I assumed that he and Master Brett had no secrets from
one another.

"It's mid-term for this slave, isn't it?", he asked,
and, without thinking, I replied "Yes, sir, I'm half
way through..."

He didn't even tell me to shut up - just came over to
me and slapped me hard across the face with all the
force he could muster.  His open palm made a great
slap noise, and I was almost knocked sideways by the
force of the blow.  I stood there reeling, feeling the
pain spreading through my head.  I almost went for
him, but managed to stop my self just in time, before
I punched him.

"If you're half way through your training, slave, you
should know that fucking slaves don't speak unless
spoken to, and they particularly don't interrupt when
one master is speaking to another."

At this point Master Brett interrupted him.  "You're
right, of course, Jed.  It's a pity, as he was doing
so well - he's well on track with getting to know all
the other slaves here, and there haven't been any bad
reports on him...."

"Yes, Brett, but look at his body language - he almost
went to strike me back.  And I'm also concerned about
his general attitude:  you know these so-called
educated slaves - college boys, like this one - it's
not just a matter of them learning how to use their
bodies, but of them getting to understand that they're
no longer free to do as they used to in all sorts of
things:  not free to start conversations, to express
opinions, to interrupt...  I'm always concerned when
you persuade me to buy a college-educated boy that
this will be the most difficult part, to get them to
understand that slaves don't have choices, or free
will...  Personally, I much prefer it when we buy
ex-marines - we get all the advantages of a good, hard
body, and at the same time the Marine Corps has
already done most of the work in turning them into
slaves - all that training teaches them to keep silent
in the presence of officers, to only speak when spoken
to, to use 'sir' at every opportunity, and to obey.
And it's not as if there's any shortage of them,
either - so many of them go wrong when they're
discharged and get hauled before the courts...."

"Jed, we've debated this so many times.  You know my
concerns, that they're trained killers...."

"Yes, but once we've ringed them they do go much tamer
- all we need to do is strip away their pride in being
men, and then they're perfect.  And that's easy enough
to do - think of the last one, Andy... So proud when
we bought him, so solid, so strong, like a great
tree.... But once we'd ringed him, tattooed him and
had Jomo fuck him five times, he was more like a twig
that we could simply snap.   I think he's one of our
best - big, hard body, but now properly servile and
compliant at all times...  A lot of marines are like
that, I think:  take away their clothes and give them
a good fucking, and they're 'lost' and break... All
that conditioning to obey orders leaves them with no
reserves of inner strength."

"Or", he went on, "We always seem to have success with
big strong blue-collar workers from construction or
whatever, boys with no education at all.  They're so
used to being at the bottom of the heap, used to doing
as they're told, grateful for dead-end jobs, low
wages, being bawled out by the foreman all the
time.... They're easy, too.   But no, you just want
college boys..."

"Jed, we don't really have time for this general
debate on our stocking policy now.  What are we going
to do about this one, though?  I think you're probably
right about him still being too wilful..."

Jed just glared at me, and snapped "Get on the horse,
boy - face down - and I'll give you a good caning to
help break you..."

"No, Jed, we can't do that.... We've got to get his
pictures taken for the web site, and we'll certainly
want to show his ass and thighs - they're so
delightfully muscular.  No one is going to make a
booking to fuck a slave who looks as if he's wilful -
the cane marks would give him away immediately as a
potential hothead.... And you know how it is for you
sometimes:  once you get started with the cane, you
can easily go too far and the slave's ass takes weeks
to heal."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief.  I really didn't
want to ride the horse again and have that cane across
my ass - it had been bad enough when I first came
here, and that was supposedly a light beating.  And
I'd seen what Master Jed could do to Gary!  Still, I
hated the thought of the power that these men had over
me:  I hadn't really done anything at all wrong, and
yet they were discussing causing me the most terrible
pain.... It was so fucking unfair!

"Well, Brett, something needs to be done!  Look, you
can see the slave relaxing, as he doesn't think we can
punish him properly now!  If I was doubtful before, my
mind's now made up - we need to do some more work to
break his spirit properly and make him properly
submissive and subservient.  Let's just postpone his
coming on stream, so that I can whip him properly:  no
slave ever wants to repeat the experience of a proper
bullwhipping, and he'd be certain to break..."

"Not a good idea, Jed.  He'd be useless for another
month at least - that is providing you didn't ruin him
totally!  The last one you whipped had to be sold off,
as the scars on his back and belly never really healed
properly, and clients started complaining that the
skin didn't feel good under their hands.  We can't
afford that, and, anyway, I really do need him working
in a couple of weeks - we've got that big sales
convention in town, and all the slaves will be booked:
 if he's not ready, it's just profit down the drain!
You know how those salesmen are - they like to boast
to each other about how expensive the slaves are that
they fuck, and we always get absolutely top prices
during sales conventions.... I agree he needs
disciplining, but do it in a way that just leaves
mental scars, not physical ones, OK?"

Master Jed glared at me, snapped "Follow me, boy!",
and strode out, along the "public" corridors and
through the door into the "slave" part of the
operation, and Master Jed took me into our living and
sleeping area.

I suppose I'd always wondered why there was a rope and
pulley arrangement in the ceiling, but I'd never
bothered to ask anyone - and now I found out.  Master
Jed undid the ropes from where they were handing to
one side attached to the cleat in the wall, attached
one end to my wrist bracelets, then pulled the other
end of the rope so my wrists were pulled up to about
my head height, then tied the rope off neatly on the
cleat so I was just standing there, relatively
relaxed.

It wasn't uncomfortable at all, and it didn't seem
like much of a punishment, and I was amazed when
Master Jed strode out of the room, leaving me standing
there like that - it didn't seem much of a punishment!
 Several of the other guys were around, and they
started to commiserate with me, saying "Sorry, Steve,
but you know we aren't going to be able to help you,
don't you?  We'd like to of course, but then we'd get
the same punishment.... So hang in there, buddy...."

I wanted to ask them what the fuck was going on, but
then Master Jed reappeared.  He growled at one of the
guys to take my shorts off, and I stood there naked in
front of him - I suppose I began to notice that I no
longer felt ashamed or worried by this as I had on my
first days of slavery, so my education was clearly
progressing!

Master Jed squatted down in front of me and I watched
- and felt - as he cupped my balls in his hands and
massaged them and stretched my sac so that both balls
were pulled right down to the bottom.  I kind of
shivered inwardly as you do when a guy is holding
those sensitive parts of you, but Master Jed's
objective didn't seem to be to torture my balls, so I
relaxed a bit.  He reached into his jacket pocket and
something cold went around my sac, and there was a
brief "snick" sound as a catch activated.  I realised
that a small manacle had been put around my sac,
keeping my balls at the bottom - it wasn't
particularly heavy, and other than the thought that it
might get painful if my balls wanted to retract, I
still wasn't unduly worried.

"Now, you fucking uppity slave", Master Jed started,
"...let's get you in position."

He knelt down in front of me again and was fiddling
with the manacle, attaching a thin wire to it.  He
went into the exercise room and came back with one of
the weights that we used to hold for exercises to
strengthen our forearms and biceps, and the other end
of the wire was wrapped around it, leaving the weight
lying on the floor.  Then he started to tug on the
wire, shortening it - I felt the pressure increase on
my balls, so bent my knees, and he tightened it
further.  Soon I could go no further, as my arms were
now right above my head, and my whole body was
stretched taut.   My knees were bent so that my thighs
were at about 45 degrees to the ground, and Master Jed
tied off the wire and stood there looking at me,
smiling faintly.

"Right, slave - there you are!  You'll soon find that
you get rather uncomfortable - your legs aren't meant
to support your weight at that angle, and they'll
begin to cramp and complain, so you'll try to stand up
to relieve the pain:  but you're tethered down there
by your balls to that weight - it's not so much that
you can't lift it up, but if you do, you'll get
excruciating pains from your balls, so you'll only
want to do it when your leg muscles are really
shrieking!  You'll try to lower yourself as well -
anything to change the angle of your legs - but you've
got only limited play in your arms, too, and if you
let your legs go and put your whole body weight on
them as they're above your head like that, you'll find
you can't breathe properly...."

"It's quite interesting to watch you big tough guys
held like this - so simple, really, and it leaves no
external marks.  The subtle thing is that it's all up
to you - you can lower yourself a bit, and stop
breathing;  or you can stay where you are ,and endure
the cramp from your legs;  or, when it gets too bad,
you can just stand upright - if you don't mind really
hurting your balls!  The choice is yours.... Now, a
four hours, I think, should teach you that you've got
to learn to obey at all times, and be properly
subservient..."

Now I understood what my fellow slaves has meant about
not helping me - any one of them could easily pick up
the weight that was "tethering" me down, but, if they
did, they'd get the same punishment.  I tried to move
down, and felt all the sinews in my arms and shoulders
and chest complain;  I moved up experimentally, and
that awful sickening pain you get when something's
happening to your balls shot through me - although I
could tell that I could just about lift the weight,
and I guessed that it had been designed so that it
would do me no permanent damage if I did.  But these
small movements in turn simply emphasised how bad my
thighs, knees and calves were beginning to feel as
they were held at that unnatural angle - at first I
thought I could bear it, but gradually I began to
realise that I couldn't, and a sweat broke out all
over me as I fought to get my body under control.

It was a fiendish way of punishing me.  The pain was
so intense from my calves, thighs and knees after a
time that so much sweat was running down my body that
it actually was trickling down my dick and dripping
from the end.  At the same time, it was somewhat under
my control - I could provide momentary relief for my
legs, but only at the expense of complete agony from
my balls!  Somehow, having this measure of "control"
made the whole experience worse, much worse:  I mean,
if you're strapped down to the horse and you master is
beating you with a cane, it's very painful but there's
nothing you can do about it, is there?  You just have
to lie there and accept it.  But here I had a degree
of freedom to "select" the punishment I wanted -- legs
or balls - and vary it from time to time.  Giving me
this choice, so I chose which parts of myself to hurt,
was far, far worse.

The other guys were as supportive as they could be,
but simply didn't dare to do anything about the weight
on the floor - it would, after all, have been easy
for any of them to have picked it up, then I could
have stood upright for a few seconds.  But perhaps
this was another part of Master Jed's punishment plan
- I knew that any of the could help me, and we were
all buddies, but they in turn were too terrified of
Master Jed to do even the tiniest thing to help me
out.  As it was, though, they brought me water to
drink, and wiped my face so that my sweat did not pour
into my eyes, and these tiny comforts were much
appreciated.

I don't know how long I was there - probably not as
long as I thought.  When you're in pain like that
seconds seem to stretch into minutes, and minutes into
hours, don't they?  But I guess I was like that for a
couple of hours, before Master Jed came back and stood
in front of me again.  "You're fucking lucky, slave!",
he said grudgingly. "You've only been here for a
couple of hours, and usually I leave slaves to 'cook'
for at least four.  But the photographer has come to
take some pics of another guy, and to save a second
call-out fee, Master Brett wants him to do you at the
same time.  Count yourself lucky - most slaves can't
walk properly for a day after I've hung them like this
- remember, and make sure you obey completely and
absolutely in future."

I was so exhausted that I just hung there, and the
next instant I was actually screaming - Master Jed had
pulled back his arm and viciously slapped me across
the face.  This had caused me to jerk back, and as I
did so a great shaft  of pain from my balls shot
through me.  I tried desperately to calm myself, and
stood there, panting, trying to regain my composure.

"I don't think you've really learned your lesson yet,
slave!", Master Jed snapped. "You're  supposed to be
an educated guy, not some rural hick - and didn't they
teach you to acknowledge  your owner when he speaks to
you?   I've just told you that I'm letting you off
from this punishment lightly, and you just fucking
stand there like a piece of shit!  I've a good mind to
tell Master Brett that we'll pay another call out fee
for the photographer, and leave you there anyway...."

I realised my error, and muttered "Sir, I'm sorry,
sir.  Thank you, sir, for letting me off the
punishment...."

"I should think so!  Let's have a bit more of that
proper slave attitude in future, boy!  Now, I'll let
you down, then you're to go and shower and shave again
- balls, ass, everything, and that face of yours
especially, as you've already got five o'clock shadow
- we want you looking at your best on the website..."

As he was speaking he went over to the cleat on the
wall and loosened the rope, and I was able to lower my
arms.  I sank to the floor, desperate to release the
strain in all my leg muscles.  Maser Jed towered over
me, looking down, and I felt myself withering under
his gaze.  Sitting there with my hands still tied
together held out in front of me, totally naked, with
my master right there in front of me, I must have
looked like one of those nineteenth century prints
that were called "the supplicant slave" or some such
(except that I wasn't black, of course!).

Another great slap to my face, so hard that it almost
knocked me sideways.  "You fucking slave, how dare
you!  Never sit in the presence of your owner, unless
he's given you permission.... I really ought to string
you up again...."

I tried my best to scramble to my feet again, my ears
ringing from the blow.  "Please, sir, I'm sorry, sir,
but my legs...."

"Quit whining!  You're supposed to be a strong, virile
man, not a wimp!"

I stood there then in front of him, utterly defeated.
My head was bent, sweat was still pouring off me - I
could feel its icy trickles down my ribs, and it was
still dripping off my dick.  My thigh muscles were
trembling and shaking and I was quite unable to
control them, and my calves felt as if they were on
fire with the cramping pain from them.

Master Jed's face was sneering at me.  "You slaves are
all the same - a bit of punishment, and you're done
in!"

I wanted to hit him, to grab hold of him, tie him up,
and torture his balls.  I wanted to scream at him that
he should try it, that it wasn't a "bit of punishment"
at all, it was sheer brutal torture of a guy's most
precious parts.  I felt my anger rising, my breathing
deepened, my heart began to race, and as he bent
forward to untie my wrists, I clenched my fists and
tensed my arms....

"Easy, slave!"  Master Jed's words stopped me for a
moment.  "The last slave that hit me regretted it for
the rest of his life!  After I'd flayed the hide off
him, I went back to the slave court and had him
certified as a public danger - and you know what
happens to slaves who are considered to be dangerous,
don't you?"

My muscles were still all tensed for a fight, but I
muttered "No, sir."

"Well, boy, we have them calmed.  You wouldn't want
that, I'm sure, now would you?"

"Sir, I'm sorry... I don't know what 'calming' is."

"Where have you bee all your life, boy?  The TV was
full of it when they first amended the Indentured
Servants Act so that slaves with a long sentence - as
you have - could be 'calmed' if the Court judges them
a danger to their owners and the public at large.
They even showed the first slave who was reclassified
- some roughneck in Texas - 'before' and 'after'."
He saw me looking at him, still obviously puzzled, and
went on "Yes, boy, you'd better learn to be very
careful around here, as I could easily get you
reclassified, I reckon:  they'd just take a bit of
your blood in the state you're in right now, see how
full of 'fight' hormones it was, and it would be an
open and shut case!  We'd lose a lot of money on you,
as you'd be pretty useless afterwards for your job,
but I could square that with Master Brett."

"Sir, I still don't know what 'calmed is."

"You're supposed to be an educated boy, aren't you?
What makes a man a man?  What gives him the balls to
fight other men, or to threaten them?  Can't you
guess....?  Why do we say a guy's got balls to do this
or that...?   Well, after calming, he doesn't any
longer - they snip those nice low hangers off you, and
after a couple of weeks your hormones adjust and
you'll never even think of getting angry again."

I stood there, reeling in horror.  Surely our society
couldn't even consider going around cutting guys'
balls off!  But then it occurred to me that it could -
after all, it allowed me to be 'skinned against my
will, for holes to be drilled in me for rings, and for
me to have my flesh defaced with those tattoos...

"Mind you", Master Jed continued, "Perhaps it mightn't
be a bad idea - we could offer you as a novelty - a
eunuch that could just be fucked but couldn't cum.  I
suppose we could always pair you up with another slave
to provide the cum to grease your hole....  So watch
it, boy!  Don't ever show anger or aggression at me
again, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."  I really tried to sound sincere - Master
Jed seemed perverse enough to carry out a threat like
that if he was crossed, I reckoned.

"Good!  Now, untie your balls, and get along and
shower and shave...."

It was one of the thing s that I hadn't really liked
at first - losing the hair from my balls and from
around my ass had made me feel less like a man, but as
I'd started to have sex with the other guys I'd
realised how sensible it is, really - I mean, when
you're sucking and licking a guy's balls, if they're
covered in hair neither you nor he really appreciate
the sensation and the texture, do you?  And you're
likely to get hairs sticking in your teeth!  It's also
a lot easier to get your dick into a nice smooth hole,
and it somehow feels better, I always think, when
you're playing around down there - it kind of drives
me almost wild when a guy runs a fingernail over my
hole and down to the back of my balls, and I know a
lot of other guys like that, too, and if it's all
hairy down there, you just don't get the same
reaction.  So after my initial shame at being
generally tidied up like that (as well as having the
length of all my pubes and stuff generally reduced),
I'd come to see it was actually quite a sensible thing
to do, and I sometimes wondered as I lay in bed just
casually playing with my balls why I hadn't done it
before - it's so much nicer to really feel your balls,
after all.  It's one of those things they never tell
you during sex education classes in High School, and
it does make me wonder why - perhaps they just don't
want guys to know how much fun it can be just to play
with their balls!

Anyway, I'd been told to shave, and I didn't want to
risk upsetting Master Jed, so I went through into the
showers.  All  the other guys were in the gym, so I
had to call one out to help me - I know you can shave
yourself down there, but it's a lot easier (and a lot
more fun) to have another guy help you, isn't it?
Then I shaved my face - it's true, I do have a bit of
a problem with five o'clock shadow as my hair grows
very quickly (and I often got mild complaints from the
other slaves when I ran their dicks over my cheeks
during play - they told me I'd have to make sure I
shaved before I went out to meet clients, or they'd be
sure to complain).

Attired in a fresh pair of shorts I went along the
corridor to reception and asked the slave on duty
where to go.  He directed me to bedroom four, and this
was quite interesting as I'd never been into one of
the bedrooms at the office before - most of our
clients preferred us to go around to their hotel
rooms, it seemed, but it was possible to just "drop
in", choose a slave, and take him off to one of the
bedrooms on the premises.  I knocked on the door, then
stood there, as I'd been taught, head bowed, waiting
to be told to go in.

The bedroom was just like a high-class motel room,
actually - a big, double bed, a chest with a mirror
over it, and through a door, a luxuriously appointed
bathroom with lots of big white towels.  The only
differences were that there was no TV, and the bed had
a tubular headboard and footboard, from which Velcro
bindings hung in case the client wanted the slave
secured.  The photographer was already there ,with a
big camera on a tripod, and he smiled in welcome.

"Steve, isn't it?  Yes... I can see it is - those
tattoos are so convenient!  Now, Steve, I'm here to do
your pictures.  It's in your interest to get a good
set, as the nicer you look, the more clients you'll
have, and that will please your owners.  So drop those
shorts, and let me get a proper look at you..."

"Please, sir, won't you want me with my shorts on?"

"Good lord, no!  These pictures are for the website -
didn't they tell you?  And the clients will want to
take a good, close look at you before making a
booking, won't they?"

"But sir, all my friends will see me..."

"Steve, haven't they told you?  Slaves don't have
friends!  You can't be friends with a slave, after
all!  And, anyway, so what if they did?  You've got
nothing to be ashamed of!"

"I know that, sir, I'm pretty well hung..."

"No, you idiot!  Even if you'd only got a two inch
dick you'd have nothing to be ashamed of... Your owner
has ordered you to be photographed naked, and for
those photographs to be displayed, so why should you
be ashamed?  Nothing a slave does at his master's
command should cause shame or embarrassment - those
are emotions that only free men can feel, and you're
now a slave.  Now, enough of this philosophising -
shuck those shorts!"

Look, I may not have ever wanted to have sex with
another guy before I was a slave, but you can't help
seeing the pictures of naked gay guys around, can you?
 You only have to browse the net, or even leaf through
one of those glossy women's magazines - there are
pictures of big naked studs everywhere!  So I was used
to the idea, I suppose, that you lie there on a bed
and look, well, 'sexy'!  Kind of innocent, and
appealing, but obviously ready for sex:  sometimes on
your back, on your side, resting on one elbow, then on
your front so they can show your butt... It was all
pretty harmless and innocuous, really.  The
photographer was a nice guy, and he chatted away about
this and that as he worked, and I really felt relaxed.

"There - that's the standard ones", he finally said.
"You wouldn't mind showing those to your own father, I
bet!  And you know, Steve, I think they're going to
come out really well - you're one of those casually
handsome guys who always photographs well, and you
have that kind of half smile that shows you're
relaxed, and which most guys find very appealing.
Now, let's get down to the fine detail, shall we....
Just lie there, so I can do some close-ups of your
dick..."

As he spoke, he changed the lenses on his camera and
now came very close indeed, pointing it down at my
tackle.  Absolutely without any hesitation and
certainly without asking me, he reached out and moved
my dick a bit to the side, muttering "...need to get a
good shot of both balls as well as the dick..."

A lot more clicking, then it was "OK, that's good,
Steve.  You did well to stay soft like that.  Now get
hard and we'll do the proper dick shots..."

I  guess she thought I was a gay guy who liked to have
his dick played with, and that's why he thought it was
difficult for me to stay soft.  In fact, I really
didn't like this taking away of the last vestiges of
my privacy, and I now found it difficult to get an
erection - I really had to stroke and tease my dick to
make it happen.  Then the snout of the camera was
pushed right in again, and he was clicking away.
"Nice 'skinning you've had - must be recent, judging
from the colour just behind the head...", I heard him
say.  Then "Now, just rest your finger tips on the
head....."

And so it went on - he must have taken hundreds of
shots of my dick and balls, with it standing up by
itself, with my fingers around it, with my other hand
cupping my balls, and, as I guess you sophisticated
guys will have guessed, with the first drops of
pre-cum beading my piss slit, then a whole series of
rapid shots as my cum spurted into the air, then with
me kneeling there, looking down at the trail of cum
from the after shock as it slimed out of my dick.

I know I'd got used to playing with the other guys and
having them jerk me off and so on, but somehow this
was all much worse - I was just "performing" for this
guy:  there was no pleasure in it for me, as I just
had to obey his instructions and handle my body in the
way that he thought was most sexy.  And I really don't
even want to think about how I blushed and blushed
when we went on to do my ass shots, and the way he
guided the camera almost close enough to touch my
sphincter as I knelt there, pulling my ass cheeks
apart!

Still, you can survive anything, can't you?  I felt
kind of violated at the time, but he was only doing
his job, after all, and I guess that exposing yourself
to the camera doesn't actually do any harm, does it?
 And that night I was scheduled to have another
session with Jomo as part of my training, and the way
we had sex quickly wiped away the humiliation I had
felt.

End Of Part Thirteen