Date: Thu, 27 Jan 2005 23:44:12 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 16

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

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


Part 16

As I jogged back to base, I was elated.  I'd actually
enjoyed it with Scott as much as I had with my fellow
slaves.  This wasn't like doing it for money at all -
it was like doing it because I enjoyed doing it, and
because I wanted to do it.   And I'd got a regular
client, it seemed - a regular client I wanted to be
with, and someone who, in addition, gave very big
tips!  Fifties were unusual, as most clients were
paying out of their own money and the tip didn't go on
the expense account, so they gave a ten or a twenty.
But a hundred.... Well, that was worth having!


In the weeks that were to follow I got to know Scott
really well. He booked me every Thursday, and he
always wanted to go for a really long run first.  Then
as the weeks went by, I got to use his body more and
more.  I started him kneeling in front of me sucking
my dick, then, even though he was very nervous about
it and I had to give him a couple of playful slaps on
his butt to remind him that I was in charge, I fucked
him.


After that, there was never any doubt that I was the
guy making the running when we were together, and
Scott started to relax as soon as we were alone
together.  One night, as we lay there after I'd really
given his ass a good hard pounding, he said "Steve,
you know one of the great things about this is that I
relax totally!  When that dick of yours is thrusting
in and out of me, I can't think about anything else:
all the job worries, the things going on in my life,
the quarrels with the girlfriend.... it all goes away
totally, as my whole brain is filled with you, the
feel of you, the smell of you, the taste of you, the
sight of you, the sound of you.... It's utterly
fantastic, Steve:  no wonder my employer pays for it -
I can't think  of any better way of giving an
executive a break from work.  A real break, that is,
something that takes him right away from all the
stresses and troubles he has."


"Is that all you think about me, Scott - executive
stress relief?", I replied, smiling at him.



We were lying side by side, and unusually for him
Scott initiated something physical  - he reached over
and gave me a stinging slap on my butt!  "No, you
idiot!  Of course I don't.  I've never had anything
like this, never ever.  And you're a really great
guy.... you know that, don't you?"


"Aw, shucks, Scott, you do say the nicest things..." I
mouthed back, in a kind of hillbilly accent, as I felt
embarrassed by all this.  At one level, I was just
doing my job, but at another, I really did like Scott,
too:  there was absolutely no bullshit about him.  He
did what he wanted, and said what he wanted.  I didn't
doubt that he was a  good, hardworking executive who
would make decisions, even unpopular decisions, and
stick by them sand implement them.  But when he was
relaxing, he wasn't afraid to admit that he wanted
someone else to take charge, which is something only a
very few men will do.


My best time of all with Scott was when the weather
really closed in one Thursday night.  We couldn't go
for our run because of the blizzard (in fact, I had
had a real difficult in getting to the Towers at all),
and so we'd had to make do with a workout in the
hotel's minuscule gym.  When I'd fucked him and we'd
lay and chatted a bit, it was time for me to go as
normal, as Scott had an early flight the next morning,
but the snow was still driving against the window
outside.  He turned on the TV and they were saying
that the airports were all closed and unlikely to
reopen the next day, either.  Scott swore when he
heard this as he needed to get back home, but then, as
I was pulling on my shorts and preparing to leave, he
told me to get naked again and come back to bed as he
clearly wasn't going anywhere!


I'd never spent the whole night with a client before,
and it did feel odd to be preparing to sleep with this
guy in the luxurious hotel room.  I mean, I knew  him
pretty well by now, but  there's a difference between
an evening's fun, and spending the whole night
together - somehow, that's a lot more serious.
Instead of lying there messing about with each other,
we were preparing to go to sleep, and there was a
whole lot of that stuff about which side of the bed,
which side to lie on, and so on.  I wasn't sure if we
would just lie there separately, or if Scott would
want me to hold him throughout the night, but he fixed
that by pushing himself against me, and I realised
that he wanted me to spoon up against him, and put my
arm over his body.


It's great to sleep with a guy you like, isn't it?  I
woke at about two, feeling my dick erect and nudging
at Scott's ass, and I ran my hand down over his firm
belly and though his pubic hair and found he was
erect, too.  Although he was breathing heavily and
deeply, I didn't think he was asleep, so I gently
nibbled his earlobe, and felt his dick start to twitch
in my hand.  Instead of our vigorous, athletic fucking
that we normally had, with the lights on so we could
see each other, I started to enter him ever so slowly
and gently as we still lay there on our sides - it'
not easy, I know, but the feel of your dick going in
so slowly as you're both lying there, saying nothing,
the sheets and blankets still over you, the room all
still and dark, is just something else.  And then when
I was in as far as I could, I really didn't fuck, just
moved my body slowly and languidly occasionally to
keep my dick hard, and to let Scott know I was still
inside him.


The next morning he woke me, as I'd slept so soundly -
he kissed me awake, and it was so odd to feel Scott's
stubble on my face.  Once he saw me starting to open
my eyes, his head went down the bed and he had my
morning hard-on in his mouth, and I moaned with
pleasure as he brought me to a climax.


Slaves weren't allowed in the dining room of the
hotel, so Scott ordered room service breakfast.
Although he went through the menu with me and tried to
tempt me with all kinds of things, I knew I'd better
stick to slave chow - all my colleagues told me that
you did need to avoid accepting meals from clients as
the sudden change from the bland slave chow to
"proper" food could lead to a lot of stomach upsets,
and I didn't want that.


Scott made me get out of bed and open the door to the
waiter as he didn't want to expose himself to the
hotel staff - it was OK for me, as I was only a slave,
as he pointed out. But then I got back into bed and we
half lay, half sat there together eating.  Scott still
tried to tempt me, holding out pieces of the mango,
papaya, pawpaw and other exotic fruit salad in his
fingers and even wiping it over my lips to try to get
me to take it, then doing the same with the blinis,
smoked salmon, cream and caviar.  But I knew I had to
resist, however much he tempted me, and we were
laughing and joking all the time.  He got me finally,
though - he broke the yokes of his eggs into a big
pool on the plate, then, almost helpless with
laughter, bent over the plate and smeared his erect
dick into them!  I couldn't then refuse, could I, when
he told me to suck him?  I tell you, the yolks of
those eggs were the most delicious I've ever tasted:
I don't know whether it was because they were some
fancy kind, or because it was so long since I'd had an
egg, or whether it was the fact that they were
deliciously warm, kept so by Scott's dick!   And he
made me have some of the delicious brioche and home
made raspberry jelly, too - be bit a large piece, then
put his face right into mine and started to kiss me:
as soon as I opened my lips, his tongue started to
force the wonderfully buttery pastry and sweet, tart
jelly into my mouth!


After that, with the breakfast things still around us
and with Scott's egg-covered cock making a huge mess
on the sheets, I rolled him on to his back, used the
butter from the breakfast tray to quickly lube his
ass, smeared some of the cream from the blinis on my
dick as additional lubrication, then fucked him hard
as pay back for making me eat like that.  Afterwards,
we were both almost helpless with exhaustion and
laughter.


There's a limit to how long you can stay in bed
together though, isn't there?   By about ten, with no
prospect of the airport reopening and with all his
phone calls finished,  Scott was very restless.  I
think he'd enjoyed trying to talk to his colleagues
back at his home office as  we lay together naked and
I kept teasing his dick and nuzzling his shoulders and
pushing my tongue into this other ear - the harder he
tried to push me away, the more I did it, and we were
just like two stupid adolescents playing, I suppose.
I could sense he was so bored, and although we fucked
again, there is a limit, after all!  With no prospect
of running through the snow-packed streets, and with
only the prospect of the tiny, cramped gym, what on
earth were we going to do?


Scott went in to take a crap - it was still one thing
he was shy about:  in spite of all the times we'd been
naked together and even pissed together: he always
shut the bathroom door when he went to crap, something
I've noticed that a lot of guys do.   I picked up the
phone, dialled base, and spoke to Master Brett who
agreed to my suggestion as a way of keeping a very
good client happy.    When Scott came out  I'd dressed
myself in his running shorts and vest, and told him to
put on my shorts and tiny top.  He didn't seem to want
to wear my clothes - that's another funny inhibition
I've noticed a lot of guys have - you can stick your
dick up their ass, but if you then tell them to pull
on your used boxers, they don't really like it!  But I
insisted, slapping his butt to make him do it,  and as
we stood there, apart from the edges of my tattoos
that you could see, it was difficult to know who was
free man and who was slave.  I noticed Scott getting
an erection as he looked at himself in the mirror,
futilely tugging at the tiny top and minuscule shorts
as if to try to cover himself better.  I pulled on a
pair of Scott's pants and a pullover, and made him
wear my sweat pants and top, then we caught the
elevator down to the lobby.


It was an exciting experience for Scott to make his
way across that lobby, with his sweat top proclaiming
"Slaves For Your Pleasure, Inc." - several of the guys
standing around talking about the prospects of getting
away were probably our clients, and I knew Scott felt
that they were probably sizing him up, and wondering
why they hadn't seen this new boy on our web site!  I
put my arm around his shoulder as they watched, and
let my other hand casually roam down to his crotch -
the men all grinned, and I smiled to myself, as this
whole experience was making Scott rock hard!


It was a real effort to get the couple of blocks to
our base, and we had to huddle together as best we
could to keep the driving snow out of our faces as we
picked our way across the drifts almost blocking the
sidewalk.  It was a novel experience for Scott to have
to walk up the stairs as we were not allowed to use
the elevators in the building, and he was almost out
of breath when we emerged into our reception area.
The receptionist greeted me cheerily, and I led Scott
down the corridor and through into the slaves' area.


He'd been very puzzled as we'd gone along, but once we
were in our superb gym, he understood what I'd
arranged.  Some of the guys were trapped out with
their clients, or huddling in the hotel lobbies a bit
further away than the Towers once they' been thrown
out of their clients' rooms, but there were ten at
base, who were mostly exercising as it was mid
morning.  As he stood there looking at their bodies as
they worked away, I moved closer to him, and pulled
the sweat shirt up over his head, followed by the tiny
top we wore.  "Come on, Scott - off with those sweat
pants - time for a real workout!", I said, and slowly
and carefully he pushed them down, over his trainers.
He then realised his situation:  like all the other
guys in the room he just had on the tiny, tight
shorts, and although he had a good body and nothing to
be really ashamed of, he just wasn't used to being so
"exposed" in front of a load of virile, fit, good
looking men.  The only thing that distinguished him
from the slaves now was the lack of the tattoos on his
chest and back.  I saw him trying to tug the waistband
of the shorts in a futile attempt to pull it higher
and stop his pubes curling out.  I stripped off, too,
so that I was just wearing his running shorts, then
put my arm around his naked shoulders.

"You wanted a workout, Scott - this is the best
equipped gym around here, and the best looking guys
you're ever going to see in any gym to look at whilst
you're doing it.... Come on..."


Although I set the exercise machines quite low, Scott
really had to work at it as they were proper
professional equipment, designed for slaves who needed
to maintain superb physiques:  I could see him looking
all the time at the bodies of the other men as we
worked away, and he knew that, compared to them, he
was somehow "inadequate" in spite of having a big job,
lots of money, and being free.  Then, at the end, when
he looked pretty exhausted, I took him to the communal
shower.  He didn't seem to mind this as he was used to
showering in a private gym, but when one of the guys
came in and just sat on one of the lavatories to crap,
I thought he might freak out!


There was nothing for him to wear after the workout,
of course, as the only clothes available were fresh
shorts and a fresh top, and I led him into the "common
room" area and sat him next to me, with Ray squeezed
close on the other side, to have a bowl of slave chow.
  I don't know whether it was being so close to so
many guys, or having the "slave experience", or
feeling the almost naked skin of Ray and me pressing
into him as he ate, but when I put my hand down to his
crotch, he was  still hard!


When we'd eaten I took him into the dorm and pulled
his clothes off, and pushed him into one of the narrow
beds, then got in with him.  We started to make out,
kissing and stroking at each other, but suddenly his
whole body stiffened and he stopped.  Three other guys
had come in for a nap in the afternoon, in case they
were working that evening, and were in beds close to
ours.


"What's the matter?"  I whispered to him, pressing my
lips close to his ear.


"Steve, there are other guys here.... I can't have
sex.... They'll hear....  I'd best get up, and go...."


"No, come on... I want to fuck you.  And you want my
dick, don't you...."


"No, Steve... It's embarrassing...."


"You're like  a lot of guys,  Scott - you say no, when
you mean yes!"  As I said this, I threw the sheet off
us, and flicked Scott over on to his belly.  I put my
arm under him to pull his ass into the air, then
started to fuck him.   He was unbelievably tense at
first, especially as one or two of the guys shouted
"go on, Steve...", so he knew we were being watched.
But as my dick started to work his magic, and as I
deliberately fucked him as hard as I could, he soon
lost his inhibitions and was shouting "Oh yes....
Yes... Fuck me, Steve.... Yes....." almost at the top
of his voice.  When I'd cum and pulled our sweaty
bodies close together, I don't think he any longer
cared about the other guys seeing our naked bodies, as
he'd had such a totally different experience - it
takes a lot to have sex when you know others are
watching, but I think there's a bit of an
exhibitionist in all of us, and once you're over the
initial hurdle, its actually pretty exciting.


Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, as there was no
real way of repeating this experience of being almost
like a slave for the first time, by that evening the
storm had passed and the gangs of street cleaning
slaves were starting to make progress on clearing the
sidewalks.  When we went back into the Towers, Scott
was at first told not to use the elevators by the
concierge, until he suddenly recognised Scott, in
spite of his "uniform".  I think Scott quite liked
this, as it implied that his body, displayed in the
shorts and tiny top, was as good as a slave's.  But he
nevertheless told the concierge to mind his manners if
he didn't want to be out of a job.


I was looking forward to a great evening of fucking,
but when we were back in his suite, the message light
was son on the phone, and Scott called his PA who told
him that there was a flight booked for him that
evening, in a couple of hours.


Scott's whole mood changed at once.  He shed the happy
"slave buddy" thing instantly, went and showered
without letting me join him for a bit of fun, then, as
I sat watching, dressed in his suit, silk tie, and all
the other stuff of the corporate executive.  Packing
his bag took no time, then he stood there looking at
me, put out his hand to pull me gently up off the edge
of the bed, then kissed me, deeply - It felt so
strange to have his suit  against my nearly naked skin
and it sort of put me back in my proper place - all
that day I'd been in charge, showing Scott things he'd
never really thought about.  But now he was the boss
again, back in control, and I was the slave once more.
 "Thanks, Steve, for a really great time....", he
said.  "See you next week."

______________________



You read a lot of porn stories I know about rent boys
and stuff, and they make out they have a pretty
miserable life.  I'm sure they do, those who hang
around on street corners, waiting for a pickup that
might not come.  But at the top end of the market, as
I was, life wasn't all that bad;  and I knew that
there were a hell of a lot of slaves who were doing
jobs far worse than mine!  Look, I was housed
properly, not in some dreadful slave barn, there was
always enough slave chow and I was never hungry,  I
had the best medical attention available if I needed
it, and I mostly spent my time with other nice guys
doing something I enjoyed - working out.  Sure, I had
to "perform", have sex with a lot of men that I
wouldn't normally have chosen - for every Scott, there
were at least ten guys I wouldn't have touched if I'd
been free:  fat or flabby, old, boring.... But it's no
big deal, is it, really?  I mean, once its hard, one
dick is very much like another, and I really don't
understand why some men make all that fuss about
taking dick:  it's only a few minutes, after all.
Sure, I didn't like having to fuck most of the fat
asses that were there in front of me, all vile  white,
with a lot of straggly hair around the hole, but
again, it doesn't take long, you can always think of
something else, and you still get to cum!  Best of
all, though, was the total freedom from worry and
stress - all I had to do was obey orders, and
everything was taken care of - no bills, no
promotional struggles or office politics, no attempts
to chase women... Life in some ways was much easier.

Because of the way we operated with the medical tests,
I anyway only got a client at most once every two
days, and the rest of the time I could fuck really
great guys, who all had an interest in fucking.  On
the whole, I had to say that I was rather enjoying it.
 Then I got the client form hell!


It was a "walk-in", the receptionist said. No prior
booking  and no trip out to a major hotel.  The guy
had just walked in off the street and paid the fee,
and so I should hurry along to the client room "C"
where he was waiting.    I guess I'd become a bit
blasé about it all by now, as I'd found that only very
few of the guys who booked me actually wanted to fuck
me:  they wanted to explore my body, they wanted a bit
of dick action, and sometimes they wanted to be
fucked, but that's all.  Still, I was confident that I
could manage anything that came up:  I was Steve, I
knew what I was doing, I was in charge!


Well, pride comes before a fall, as the old proverb
goes, as when I opened the door to the room there was
my old buddy Rob, the guy who'd helped me through the
enslavement those months ago.


"Rob...  Hey, man, great to see you... What are you
doing here?"


"Oh come on, Steve, what do you think?"


"Is there news - have they said there will be  a
retrial or something?  You know my conviction was
false..."


"No.  Nothing like that.  I'm here for sex, of
course."


I was stunned, and thought immediately that there must
be some mistake.  To tell you the truth, I thought it
must be dreadfully embarrassing for Rob to have had me
see that he was coming to pay for sex.  "Oh, yes... I
guess you could do that.... So which guy have you
booked, Rob.... I'll go and find him.... That idiot
receptionist has put you in the wrong room...."


"No, Steve, I booked you!"


"You're not serious!  We're buddies.  We went to
school together, to college together.... "


"Yes, Steve.   And all that time I looked at you,
watched you as we changed for sport, occasionally saw
a glimpse of your dick in the men's room at a bar or
something....  Then I'd see you at parties, with those
girls with their hands all over you....  And when we
went to the beach, and you always likes to wear
Speedos:   you said it was because you liked to swim
fast, but  I think it was because you wanted guys like
me to look at you, Steve...."


"Hey, Rob, cool it!  You know me - I was straight, I
didn't want guys.  And so are you - you're engaged..."


"Yes, Steve, but I always wanted you, always wanted to
be able to run my hands over that body of yours,
wanted to  have you kiss me, just like I saw those
girls at the parties doing... .so now I'm going to."


"You can't afford this place, Rob - do you know how
much they charge for us...."


"Of course I do!  I've paid, remember?   But I've just
inherited a chunk of money from an uncle I hardly
knew, so I can afford it.  And I've decided to fulfil
all those longings, Steve - I'm going to have what I
desired - your body."


"Rob, please, don't... It's not right.... We were
buddies.... You can't do things like that to your
buddies...."


"You're right, Steve.  You always were right... It was
always Steve who did things properly, had the best
girls, won the races, was captain of the team, was the
guy that everyone wanted to sit next to at the bar....
You're right,  Steve,  I couldn't do the things I'm
going to do to a buddy, a friend.  But you know what
they say, that classic new proverb, 'You can't be
friends with a slave'.  And that's what you are now,
Steve, a slave.  And I can do things like that to a
slave, especially to a pleasure slave....  Now,
strip!"


"No, Rob, please...."


"Hey, slave - some respect here!  I don't allow slaves
to disrespect me...  I thought they had some quality
control in this place.... Wait until I complain
afterwards...."


"Sir, please, Rob, sir, don't do this.... I'm sure
they'll refund your money...."


"Fucking slave, get naked!  I want to see your body
properly, after all those years of just catching a
casual sneak look.  Drop those fucking shorts, get
that top off - it's not a is if they're covering much
anyway, but  I want to see it all, Steve...."


Well, what was I to do?  If he did complain, Master
Jed would punish me.  And, I thought, he had after all
seen me naked before at the sports club and school and
such, so what was the real problem?  So I dropped the
shorts, then pulled the top up over my head - that's
the way we do it:   so many "amateurs" take the top of
first;  but if you drop your shorts and then pull the
top off, the act of stretching your body as the top
goes over your head pulls your dick up and displays it
better, and your face is covered  for a second or two,
which gives the client time to look at you without you
seeing them doing so, and it builds their confidence.


Rob was sitting there on the edge of the bed, licking
his lips.  "Hey, Steve... Fantastic!  The life as a
slave suits you, old buddy - you're in much better
shape than when I last saw you.  Now, come here....."

It was somehow utterly humiliating.  Look, I've
striped in front of lots and lots of guys, and it
doesn't bother me - after all, I've got a great body
and nothing to be ashamed of.  And a lot of them have
done what Rob did next - reach out with his hand and
take my dick, letting it lie there in his hot, sweaty
palm.  It's no big deal, really, to have another guy
hold your dick, is it?  But this wasn't another guy -
this was Rob, my old buddy, who I'd been to school
with, to college with, we'd drunk together, partied
together.... And now, here he was,  feeling my dick as
I was naked and he sat there in his smart clothes!

I felt myself blushing, as Rob stated to stroke my
dick and the inevitable happened - it went hard.
"Fantastic, Steve!  I always wondered what yours would
look like when it threw a wood", he murmured.

It got worse after that, as, still dressed, with me
naked, he started to run his hands all over my body,
tweaking my nips, cupping my balls in his hand,
playing with my pubic hair, and generally exploring me
in a way that a friend should not.  Finally he stood
facing me and pushed his face towards mine, his hand
went up behind my head and he pulled me towards him.


"Open your mouth, Steve, I've always wanted to kiss
you..."


"Don't be so disgusting, please, Rob, sir......"


"Fucking open your mouth, slave!", he snapped, and I
didn't know what to do.  Of course I could overpower
him.  I could stop him physically whenever I chose.
But what then?  Punishment?  So I let him kiss me,
feeling his disgusting tongue pushing deep into me.
Through his clothes I could also feel his erection as
the fabric scratched all over my bare skin.  The only
consolation - and it was a slight one - was that I
could taste whiskey on Rob's breath, so perhaps he had
drunk too much and didn't really know what he was
doing.


He pulled away from me, and as I watched, started to
remove his clothes.  When we were at college Rob
hadn't been in bad shape - we'd been on the football
team together.   But since then although I'd kept up
working out and running, and since I had come here I'd
been working especially hard, Rob had let himself go.
He'd lost muscle tone, and there was the start of a
roll of fat around his waist and belly.


He wanted to kiss some more then, pulling our naked
bodies together and his dick stabbing hard at me.  I
tried, honestly I did, and with clients I usually
don't have a problem - even when the guy's pretty fat
and disgusting, I can usually manage to get and stay
hard;  but with Rob it just wouldn't work - try as I
might, however hard I tried to imagine sexy things
happening to me, my dick just drooped there.


Then I heard the words I knew would come:  "Right,
Steve:  On your knees, boy, and service my dick."


They train you to always look up and keep your eyes on
the guy you're sucking in case he's looking down, as a
lot of men like to feel they're more dominating that
way.  So I had to stare up at Rob's smile of triumph
as I kissed, licked and sucked his dick.  The bastard
hadn't even bothered to shower or anything either, as
his dick tasted of dried piss and there was a rank,
rancid smell as he forced my head into his pubes so
that I could lick his balls.  And all the time he was
moaning and groaning as if he was in ecstasy, and I
could hear "Yes, Steve, yes... Oh fucking hell, Steve,
yes...."


With any luck I thought he might cum, and then the
whole thing would soon be over.  But after a couple of
minutes he pushed my head away, slapped my face a
couple of times with his dick, then said "And now,
Steve, that ass of yours.  You can't believe how many
times I've watched  it as you changed, or when you
wore those sexy tight Jeans of yours... Now I'm going
to find out what it's like to fuck you, Steve."


"Please, Rob.... Look, we were friends.... It's not
right....."


"And I've told you to be respectful, slave!  Now get
on that bed, belly down, feet on the floor, and spread
your legs."


This is my least favourite position, actually - when
the guy is standing there at your ass, he's got a lot
of power to thrust with if he wants.  At least if
you're kneeling on your elbows and knees and he's
kneeling behind you there's not the full power of his
butt and thighs available.  And Rob simply went at me
as if he had no time to spare - it's lucky we always
went to a session with a client ready lubed, as the
moment I was in position I could feel his body behind
mine, then his dick as he pressed my ass apart and
positioned himself, and the next instant he simply
thrust very hard and buried himself inside me.  I let
out a yell, even though that's rather unprofessional -
it frightens some clients.  But it seemed to excite
Rob, as he thrust in and out as fast as he could,
long, deep strokes, with no rest.  I could hear him
panting and gasping.


It was really unpleasant.  He was just using me, with
no concern at all for whether I was OK or not.  I had
to push my face down into the bed to stop my gasps of
pain from being audible, as I didn't want the bastard
to have the satisfaction of knowing that this was
hurting me.


As soon as he'd cum, he didn't even rest lying on me,
as a lot of guys do - he pulled out very quickly, then
told me to roll over onto my back.  The next moment he
was sitting astride my chest, his knees pushing my
shoulders into the bed, and his dick, slimed with his
cum and my ass juices, hovering over my mouth.  "They
say slaves clean you up properly, Steve, so get to
work!", he commanded.


It's no big deal, actually:  we always flush ourselves
out thoroughly before a client so there's no shit on
the dick, only cum and sweat and stuff, but
nevertheless it's not all that nice I think:  when
you've just had sex, you ought to be lying there
thinking about it and enjoying those special
post-coital moments, not having a dirty dick rammed
into your mouth!  And then the bastard pissed on me -
I had been taught to drink piss, and even though I
don't much like it, I would always take it from a
client.  But Rob gave me no warning, and just started
to piss in my mouth as I was almost finished cleaning
him off.


It wasn't my fault the bed got soaked then - I was
swallowing it away, when he pulled right out of my
mouth so he could kneel there, holding his dick, and
moving it around so that he could spray his piss all
over my face and neck.  When he was finished, he just
knelt there for a few moments, breathing hard, and
looking down at me with a look that was kind of
triumphant.
"I've always wanted to have you like this, Steve....
Your head between my thighs, and my dick pissing on
your face...."


"Rob, why.... We were good buddies....."


"You were always so fucking superior, Steve.  You
always did better in class, captain of the team, got
the girls first.....  It was all so effortless for
you, and you never noticed that some of us really had
to work at it, and still didn't do as well...."


I just lay there.  There was no point in telling him
that I had to work, too, but that unlike him, I didn't
give up when the going got tough.  It hadn't been easy
for me - I'd always made huge efforts.  And now the
bastard thought that in some way he was better than
me!

He never said another word as he got dressed, then
turned to leave.  No tip, of course.  And the next
morning I was deep in the shit:  not only was Master
Brett furious about the piss-soaked bed, but the
bastard had given me a five, marking the evaluation
form "Sullen and uncooperative."


It seems that we'd been running along neck and neck
with our biggest rival, as we both published our
client satisfaction numbers on the web site.  It was
the end of the month, and this five pushed our monthly
average just below theirs, allowing them to claim "the
most satisfied clients in the city".   I stood there
as Master Brett raged on at me, and Master Jed came in
and suggested that he should take me down to City Hall
and hand me over to the public  whipper, as I deserved
a proper bull whipping, which owners were not allowed
to administer themselves as the punishment was judged
to be so severe.


"No, Jed", Master Brett told him.  "After that, he'd
be useless - their backs and butts never properly
recover from a public bull whipping.  It's OK for
workers to have a permanently scarred back, but our
clients wouldn't like it.  We ought to punish him, and
punish him hard, to send a clear message to all the
studs here that being 'sullen and uncooperative' won't
be tolerated.  But a whipping like that would destroy
his value."


"We can't let the young fucker get away with it,
Brett.   I've always thought he's too superior, and he
needs to learn...."


"Please, sirs, it wasn't my fault.. The client...."


"Shut the fuck up!", Master Jed screamed.  "That's the
problem, with you, slave!  You think you know it all.
You say it's not your fault... So exactly whose fault
is it if the client didn't get a good experience?  Of
course it's your fault.  You arrogant fucker - you
even dare to interrupt and speak when you've not been
asked a question....."


"Jed, calm down.  We're going to punish him, and in a
way that will take some of that arrogance away from
him."  Master Brett turned to me and said "Go into the
exercise room and stand in a corner, facing the wall,
until I have made the arrangements for your punishment
and call for you:  I want all your fellow slaves to
see what happens to slaves who don't perform properly
here."


End Of Part 16