Date: Sun, 6 Feb 2005 00:39:44 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 21

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

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


Part 21

It was really tough getting through to Scott.  He
seemed to have a small army of secretaries and
personal assistants, and they wouldn't put the call
through.  In the end they agreed to let him see an
e-mail, so the next Saturday when we were in town I
sent him a brief note from a borrowed terminal, just
saying that "his friend from The Towers" needed to
speak to him, giving Hank's mobile number, and just
signing it "Steve".

On Monday morning Hank's cell phone went off, and Hank
at first couldn't understand who it was, until he
heard at last the name "Scott".  He handed the phone
to me, and Scott sounded so eager.  "I still go to
'Slaves For Your Pleasure', Steve, but it's not the
same.  I was really pissed off when I heard they'd
sold you - if they'd have mentioned it, I would have
bid on you!  Still, what can I do for you, old buddy?
You're not in trouble, are you?"

I gave him a very quick run-down of Hank's ranch, and
explained we needed some business advice.  "It sounds
like the kind of place I'd like to visit", Scott told
me.  "Put me on to Hank."

I handed the phone back to Hank, and I heard him
making lots of excuses.... "Very small...", "no
space....", "only one bed....", "miles from
anywhere....", "don't want to cause you any
trouble....", and so on and so on.  I was really
worried that he'd fuck it up, and desperately wanted
tot snatch the phone away from him!  But Scott
prevailed ,and when Hank flipped the phone shut he
told me that Hank planned to fly to the loca l airport
for the weekend, and that we'd need to meet him.

For the rest of the week Hank was really worried - he
made me scrub the cabin from top to bottom, wash the
sheets on his bed, as he thought Scott had better have
that and he'd sleep on the couch, pushing me out on to
the floor.  And on Thursday we had to make a special
trip into town to buy groceries, although I saw Hank
wincing as he had to pay money out, money I knew he
desperately could ill afford.  Friday night saw us a t
the local tiny airport, waiting for Scott's commuter
plane, and even then Hank was worried.  "Look, Steve,
this is a big corporate executive.  He's going to hate
the ranch, he's not used to things like that.  I don't
think some old, staid business man is going to like
sleeping on my hard bed, with no privacy - where's he
going to shower?  He's not going to want to use that
old bath in front of the fire...."

"Boss, don't worry!  Scott's a really nice guy - he's
the only client I ever had who treated me like another
man, rather than as some cheap piece of slave shit!
If there's a problem, I'm sure he'll tell you about it
rationally, and see how it can be solved.  And one
thing for sure - he's certainly not body shy, so stop
worrying about the bath...."

Just at that minute the tiny plane landed, and a very
few minutes later, there was Scott.  He bounded up to
me, and actually shook my hand!  "Steve, you're
looking really great... Life as a ranch hand slave is
really suiting you..."

"Master Scott, this is Master Hank....", I said,
introducing them.

"Hey, Hank, good to meet you.  You don't make Steve do
all this 'master' crap do you?  It's so nineteenth
century - especially when you're fucking a slave, I
always think you ought just to call him by his name,
and he should just call you sir, or boss..."

A respectable matron passing heard this, and looked
almost fit to burst as she heard Scott talking in such
forthright terms, but he didn't care.  "Hell no, Scott
- he's just Steve to me, and he calls me boss.  But
where's your luggage - I'll tell Steve to get your
cases..."

"No need - this is all I have".  Scott showed a very
small weekend bag in his hand. "I guess that up in the
high country it's pretty relaxed, so I've only got a
pair of jeans and a T....  Oh, and this..."  He handed
Hank a big bottle of Jack Daniels, and went on "But I
don't suppose we'll get through much of it, as I hope
you're going to let me have sex with Steve, and I
don't want to be drunk..."

He laughed as he said this, and it kind of broke the
ice. Hank realised that this was no stuffy
businessman, but a genuine guy, who might even like
the same kind of things that he did.

I was squashed into the middle of the two men as we
drove back to the ranch, very uncomfortable on the box
thing between the two front seats, but Hank had said
it was too cold for me to ride in the open bit at the
back as slaves usually did in these circumstances.
Scott didn't mind - he soon had his arm around my
shoulders, and a hand placed on my crotch:  I had an
erection, as you'd imagine, and Scott fondled it and
messed with it as Hank drove along the torturous
curves back home.

Scott looked around with a single glance as we went
into the cabin, and said "This sure is snug!  It must
be fun to live here with Steve around - never out of
your sight:  I'm surprised you're not permanently
horny!"

"Yes, he is a good fuck", Hank replied, relaxing a lot
now, "But I limit myself to last thing at night.  A
man needs a good fuck before he goes to sleep.  And I
don't want to wear Steve out - he has a lot to do
around the place."

"Quite so.  And it's obviously good for him - he looks
in even better condition than when I used to hire him.
 Can I take a closer look?"

"Sure - you're my guest.  Use the place just as if it
were your own..."

"Steve, come and stand in front of me, and let me take
a good look at you", Scott said easily.  "Get those
clothes off, so I can really appreciate you again..."

I saw a look approaching shock in Hank's eyes, as he
wasn't used to the very  frank ways in which men like
Scott treated slaves.  I felt  faintly embarrassed,
too, as it was a long time since I'd had to appear
naked in front of clothed men, but, what the hell -
they'd both seen me like that often enough!  So I
dropped my jeans, and unbuttoned my shirt and let it
fall to the ground.

Hank made a sort of "come here" gesture with his open
hand, and I shuffled forward so he could cup my balls
in his palm, and rub his thumb up and down my dick.
"Yes, just as I remember!", he said to Hank.  "And I'm
glad you keep him shaved down there - I know it's
becoming fashionable to treat slaves so much like men
that they're allowed to have hairy sacs, but I think
you can go too far - it's one thing to be nice to a
slave, treat him like a buddy, almost, but quite
another to let him have hairy balls and a hairy crack:
 there are limits, aren't there?"

It wasn't cold in the cabin, so as no one said
anything, I loped around the place for the rest of the
evening naked.  Hank cooked his smoked pork belly and
beans, both men drank a couple of glasses of Jack
Daniels (and allowed me a small one), and talked
business generally.  When they'd eaten, I could see
Hank getting worried, as it was getting late and he
didn't like to mention the subject of beds.  But
finally, he had to.

"Er, look, Scott, you can take the bed... And I'll
take the couch."

"No, Hank - you've probably got to work tomorrow, you
need your sleep..."

"No, you're the guest."

"Well, that's very generous of you - I was wondering
how I was going to get Steve wrapped around me on that
couch - he is included in the deal, isn't he?"

Hank really did look startled now.  "Well, he doesn't
usually sleep with me - I just fuck him, and he sleeps
on the couch..."

"Oh, I see.  Well, Hank, I like him to fuck me! And I
was looking forward to him doing it several times
during the night - it wont disturb you, will it?"

Hank was looking really odd now!   He was a liberal,
who understood that men had sex with slaves, but to
him, that always meant that he was on top.  He seemed
genuinely shocked that Scott might take it from a
slave.   Scott picked up on this straight away, and
said quietly "Sorry, Hank - but that's the way I like
it.  I'm always in charge during the day, and when I'm
in bed, I like to relax and have someone else make the
running.  There aren't too many guys I meet socially
who can do that, so I just hire slaves, bit tough
bucks like Steve, who know what it's about..."

I guess it must have been the whiskey, as Hank usually
only drank a couple of beers.  Because he looked long
and hard at Scott, and then said "Well get your
clothes off then, and let's see if you can take it
from a real man, not just a slave, who probably pulls
his punches... Even Steve, who's pretty free thinking,
holds back a bit in case he might be punished..."

To my amazement, Scott just did as he was told, and
Hank stood next to him, tweaking his nips, then
feeling his balls and dick, just as if Scott were a
slave.  "You'll do!", he told Scott. "You look after
yourself - now let's see if that ass of yours is as
good as the rest of you."

He led Scott to the bed, just as he usually led me, in
control, and pushed him down.

"Please", I heard Scott say, "I haven't had it since
last week... I'm tight.... Can I lube up first?"

"Hell, I don't have any of that kind of fancy stuff.
I just use spit on Steve...."

"Well, you know Hank, there is something else....."
Scott sat up, pulled Hank down next to him and
whispered something, that made them both laugh.  They
lay back on the bed together, then Hank called me
over.  "Right, Steve - we're in need of a little
lubrication - get jerking off:  that's all the use
your dick is going to get tonight, I think..."

At first I thought I hadn't heard properly, but seeing
the look on both men's faces, I had to stand there and
start to jerk myself off.  It's really hard standing
up, isn't it?  Your legs ache, and you want to be
lying down.  And it's especially hard when you're
being watched, too!  Still, I did manage to shoot a
credible load, and caught it in the palm of my hand.

Hank sat and watched as I had to stretch and lube
Scott - I think it made Hank feel good, to see this
other guy being prepared for him by a slave!  And then
Scott really fucked him hard - it didn't matter how
much Scott cried out, or how hard he slapped the bed
with his hands, Hank just carried on, pounding away
with all the considerable force that his strong
worker's body was capable of.

Afterwards, as they lay together, Hank had me clean
his dick and Scott's ass from his shit, and they both
agreed that having a slave around really made for easy
sex.   "So you always take it, do you?", Hank asked.

"Yes, generally.  As I said, it's relaxing, not to be
in charge."

"So, Scott, if I ordered you to do something, you'd
like that?"

"Sure, Hank.  You're a pretty forceful guy.  Being
ordered around by you is kind of fun."

"OK, Scott.  I want you to fuck Steve.  You're the
only one who hasn't cum tonight, and Steve's ass
always needs a dick in it, to keep him in his
place..."

"Oh, I couldn't - he's too big and tough, and I'm to
used to taking his dick...."

There was a resounding slap, as Hank flipped Scott
over on to his belly, and spanked his butt with that
strong arm and hand with which I had become so
familiar.  I was expecting Scott to be furious, but
quite the opposite:  he said "Sorry, sir", to Hank,
then ordered me onto my hands and knees.

Scott had never fucked me before, but he knew how to
do it, of course, and made quite a credible attempt at
it.  Hank cheered him on as he pounded away at me,
then afterwards pulled him close to him, and kissed
him.  "Good boy!", he said in that same tone that he
sometimes used to congratulate me on doing something.
"Now, are you ready to take my dick again?  All this
excitement has made it hard to sleep..."

I forget exactly the sequence after that, but I did
fuck Scott that night, and Hank fucked me, and somehow
none of us slept on the couch - they allowed me to
stay in the bed with them so that we were a nice
tangle of strong, manly limbs and bodies when we woke
the next morning.

That Saturday set out looking as if it was going to be
one of the best I've ever spent.  We all rode out to
inspect the ranch, we had bread and cheese for lunch
by the side of a stream high in the hills, then rode
home.  Whilst I was doing the general chores around
the place, Hank and Scott sat down to talk.  By dinner
time, Hank was looking a lot less worried than he had
been, but there still seemed to be a problem.   It was
Scott who finally explained, and the day began to
crash.

"You see, Steve", he said.  "I've had this idea.  A
dude ranch.  A real dude ranch, with no frills.  Men
could come here to see the real life of a working
ranch.  No fancy showers, no special treatment - just
a communal bunk house, basic food, and, just like in
olden times, they'd all expect to get fucked by the
gang boss or ranch owner - I think Hank's well up to
that.  But he needs money to get it started - to build
the bunk house, advertise, that sort of thing -
although once it gets known, I think you'll be booked
solid.  I've offered to lend it to him to get him
started, but he's too proud, or should I say too
stupid, to accept!  So, Steve, I'm afraid that we're
going to have to do something about you..."

I looked across at Hank, and said "No, boss, please
don't sell me... Or, if you must, can you sell me to
Master Scott?"

Scott cut in "Shut up, Steve.  It's all been decided.
Hank isn't going to sell you - he needs you here to
help run the place, and to fuck the guests, or to be
fucked, of course.  But there's another way - you're
indentured for ten years, I think you told me?"

"Yes."

"Good!  Then the plan will work.   Under the new
Repression Of Recidivist Slave Activity law, it was
recognised that a slave becoming free after ten years
or more of a sentence couldn't re-adjust to society -
even with the 'slave bounty' in your savings account,
slaves like you couldn't make a fresh start.  So an
owner can apply to the Courts for a permanent slavery
order.  Actually, it's all bullshit - the Federal
Reserve was so alarmed about the skewing of the
economy caused by stupid slave prices that it got the
Government to do something to make more slaves, and
this act was passed in double quick time.  So on
Monday Hank will apply to have you enslaved for life."

"No, please... I could make it as a free man, I'm
sure..."

"Sorry, Steve, but you're a slave now, and you ought
to be thinking about serving your owner properly.
Hank has to do this, to get out of the difficulties
he's in - you wouldn't want to see him lose this
place, would you?"

"No, Scott, but I don't want to be a slave for
life..."

"Well you actually don't have any choice!  The Courts
will always grant the order, and Hank will apply.
Then, when you're a permanent slave, you have no need
of that Indentured Servant's Savings Account - all
your property automatically passes to your owner.  The
money in there will just be enough for Hank to buy
materials to build the bunk house - you can do the
work, and meanwhile, I'll put the word around a number
of buddies of mine about what a great place this is,
and within a few months there'll be a nice steady
income for Hank."

"But I'll never be free... I'll be a permanent slave.
I was looking forward to being free, when I'm still
only thirty eight."

Scott looked at Hank, and said quietly "See, I told
you.  We both agree Steve's a nice guy, and a really
good slave.  But like all slaves, he's never really
prepared to go those last nine yards for the good of
his owner."

"Steve", Hank looked at me across the table, "Can't
you see it's in everyone's best interests?"

"Not in mine!", I snapped , perhaps rather abruptly.

"Hank, don't demean yourself with pleading or arguing
with a slave", Scott said.  "Steve's a good slave, as
we both agree, and with a bit of firm discipline he'll
soon get over it.  You just need to go on as normal,
expecting him to give you all the hard work and
loyalty that he owes you as a slave."

And that was that!  They both enjoyed Sunday, but I
was pretty miserable.  And Scott stayed on on Monday
(although he spent most of the day on his cell phone)
to see my permanent enslavement order go through -
most of the town turned out, once the news got out, as
I was presented in court, then the judge stamped the
papers - it really was a formality!  But then the
guard turned to me and told me to strip, as I was now
a permanent slave, no longer an indentured servant,
and all slaves appeared totally nude in court!  I
could feel the eyes of the whole town burning in to me
as I dropped my jeans and pulled off my shirt, to
stand there, naked, whilst the judge simply gave away
the rest of my life.

One good bit did come out of it, though - Scott told
Hank to go into the local print shop and get an
invoice printed up, and I made my first money as a
permanent slave for Hank by being charged to Scott's
company as "weekend recreation", as I guess I used to
be.

_________________________

I was pretty much in despair for about the next week,
I can tell you.  But nothing much changed  - Hank
treated me just as he always had, and then, once my
Indentured Servant Savings Fund was released to him,
there was all the excitement of building.... And, of
course, Scott now spent every weekend at the ranch,
and once we were all in bed, it became more and more
like three guys together, not two free men and one
slave.

So, looking back on it all, how can I sum it up?  If
my buddies hadn't done that stupid thing and
implicated me in that robbery, I'd have climbed the
corporate ladder, I suppose.  I was never going to set
the world alight, like Scott, but I'd have been a nice
comfortable first or second line manager, with some
free men and a bevy of slaves working for me.  I'd
have gone home to my comfortable home, a wife, maybe
even kids....  Actually, I think I've got the best of
the deal!

Hank's Place, as it's called, is one of the most
expensive, most discrete, and best dude ranches in the
country.  We've always kept it small, as Hank likes to
give that "personal service" - really personal, for
most of our clients!  We've had to take on some stud
slaves, of course, as most of the clients like young
guys, but I'm in charge of training them, and I really
do a good job:  all those things I learned all those
years ago are still true.  Scott retired last year,
and he's a really wealthy man, with all his stock
options and everything, but you'd never know it:  when
we're all in bed together, it really is as if we're
three buddies.

Sure, I'm a slave, and when one of the guests demands
it, I have to service him - but then, that's what
slaves do, isn't it?  And it's not very often, as most
guys don't want to fuck, or be fucked by, an old man.
But most of the time I'm my own man, and that's what
counts, even though the world still sees me with my
tattoos, and thinks "slave".

THE END.