Date: Sat, 13 May 2006 08:29:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Show, Part Twenty

THE SLAVE SHOW

By Pete Brown.   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  Twenty

It wasn't a very pleasant journey back home.  If he
spoke at all, the nigga was almost unintelligible as
what small amount of English he had was made
impossible to understand by his very coarse accent.
And the Scot sat there in sullen silence - or, rather,
he sprawled as best he could all over the back seats
as his bum was so sore from Dave's vicious caning.

I tried talking to him, but I reckon he was from
Glasgow or somewhere like that, as his wasn't the
gentle burr of softly-spoken Scots English that you
get from the cultured folk of Edinburgh, but the harsh
almost nasal twang of that urban less refined city.
So it was hard to understand what he said, too, and
almost every second word was "fucking", as that seemed
to be the only adjective he knew, and he used it
totally indiscriminately.  Not that he was all that
communicative, seeming to prefer to answer my
questions with "Fucking yes" or "Fucking no" in a way
that bordered on being openly insolent.

By the time we'd got back to our place I wasn't
therefore totally pleased, and when Dan came over to
inspect the purchases and began to go on at me for
wasting our money, I almost lost it. "You know we
don't do niggas, Steve", he started.  "They're too
much trouble, and it causes all kinds of problems with
the other slaves.  And this one is not even very good
looking - that vile scabby stuff on his pecs.... And
that tight mass of curls around his cock is
repulsive...."

"Dan, shut up, will you, and think!  First, there
aren't a lot of niggas in the shows, probably because
the type of people who want to go in for showing
slaves like to use nice whiteys, men like themselves,
but younger and fitter - and there's much more variety
there as they can do Meditteraneans and Nordics and
whatever.  So if we start to show a nigga, there won't
be much competition - so we'll be even more likely to
win.  And you know that the equal opportunities people
came down on Crufts a couple of years back as they
were paying bigger prizes in the whiteys classes than
for niggas, as they said it was grossly discriminatory
and made the niggas into some sort of inferior breed.
So they equalised the prize money - less competition,
same prizes."

"Secondly, stop looking at the surface of this one,
and consider his basic body.  Look at his legs, and
his bum, and the way he's the classic 'triangle' of
wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, then the
flare of that bum... And the thighs seem to go on for
ever.  His skin tone is amazing, too, and once you
make allowances for the radical differences between
niggas and whiteys -  the nose and the lips - I reckon
he's more than just good looking:  most would call him
handsome.   He's no slouch when it comes to his cock
and balls, either:  with the lights turned out so you
couldn't see the colour, you'd think you were feeling
a real stud!"

"And thirdly, I agree with you about his body hair -
it's something where a lot of niggas fall down.  But
the breed rules say it's perfectly acceptable to have
them totally clean shaven, so once Julie's gone over
him and we've oiled him properly, I reckon he'll be
amazing."

Dan could see that I'd thought the whole thing
through, but he's a bit like me and he doesn't like to
lose an argument.  So as he couldn't now find much
else to criticise in the nigga, he turned to the Scots
boy.

"Drop those shorts and strip off that T so I can get a
good look at you", he commanded.  And when the Scots
lad muttered "Fuck off -  I ain't stripping for a
fucking poofter to look at me....", Dan turned on me
in anger, not to the lad, lad as he should have done.

"So what's the excuse for this rubbish, then?", he
almost snarled.

"Well, I admit he's not show material, but he was very
cheap.  Very cheap indeed...."

"I should think so too!  Cheap, and foul mouthed, from
what I can hear.  And disobedient.  A complete waste
of money, or a huge diversion of our resources.  What
the fuck persuaded you to buy him?  It's not even as
if he's your type - you like a lot more muscle than
this pathetic skinny creature's got....."

"Fuck you, mate. I'm not pathetic....", the lad burst
out.

Dan now did get very angry indeed, and snapped "As
Steve's been stupid enough to buy you, I guess we're
stuck with you at least until we can find someone even
more stupid, to buy you from us.  But understand this:
 if you ever speak to me like that again, I'll have
you caned, or whipped."

"You don't scare me!  I can take a caning.... ask your
mate...."  the lad retorted.

"Steve, you bought him knowing he was so disobedient
he needed caning?"  Dan sounded almost incredulous
now.

"Look, Dan, Dave did start to thrash the hell out of
him.  And, OK, I felt sorry for him, I admit it.  But
I did get a good price - he and the nigga were a
package and didn't cost a whole lot more than the
nigga alone.  And I reckon we can get really useful
work out of him - he can help the cook prepare the
food, so we can buy in raw vegetables rather than some
of it coming pre-prepared from the catering suppliers
as the cook just doesn't have enough time to prepare
everything from scratch now we're full - that should
save a fair bit of money.  Then we can get him to take
care of all the laundry for the other slaves, running
the washers and dryers which means they'll have more
time to exercise..... And other stuff like that - I
bet we can find a whole lot of things a lad like this
can do to make the place run smoother, and at less
cost.  He's a potential good investment, too - he's
only just turned sixteen, so we've got lots of years
of useful service if we choose to keep him.  And
you've forgotten that although he's not, as you say,
my type, some of the slaves in training do like a nice
younger bloke for a bit of relaxation - that will make
 them happier, so they'll work harder after they've
fucked the boy."

"No blokes going to fuck me!", the young Scot
screamed.  "No fucking way!  I'm not a poofter, and I
don't go with blokes...."

"That's it!", Dan shouted.  "I've heard enough!  I
told you  that if you spoke out of turn, you'd be
punished."

"And I told you that I can take any fucking caning you
want to hand out....!", the lad retorted instantly,
only adding to Dan's anger.

"Steve, strip him and thrash him!", Dan told me.

Look, Dan and I are partners, right?  And usually
matters involving slave training and discipline are
left to me.  I don't like Dan interfering in my work,
and I certainly don't like him ordering me around -
well, I suppose it stirs memories of when I was his
slave.

"Dan, cool it, will you?  He's only a kid - do you
remember how you were at sixteen?  And he's been
thrashed once already today, and I don't want to hurt
him...."

"Stop making excuses, Steve!  You bought rubbish, and
you don't want to admit it.  Steve can never just say
'I was wrong' - no, you have to keep circling around
it, trying to avoid the issue, trying to change the
subject.  It's really quite simple  - this piece of
trash is rude and defiant, and I wanted you to punish
him.  And you choose not to....."

"Get off your fucking high horse, for Christ sake,
Dan!  I discipline the slaves around here, and, yes,
he may be rude now, but he's potentially a good buy.
So go back to your office, and leave me to get on with
my work."

Dan turned and stormed out, and I felt really bad.  He
and I just don't quarrel about business matters, as we
have our "spheres of interest" and are wise enough not
to intrude too much on the other.  I wondered why Dan
had reacted so uncharacteristically angrily about this
slave, and felt uneasy: maybe there was more to this
than there seemed to be.  I hated arguing and
quarrelling with Dan - w e had little enough time
together as it was, and such time as we had ought to
be spent making love, not in arguing about some
fucking slave.

Well I expect you know how it is.... I was angry now,
angry at Dan, and a bit angry at myself for letting
matters escalate.  But Dan wasn't here and the Scots
lad was, so he became the object of my anger.  He
stood there, a faint smile on his face as if he was
glad to have been the cause of an argument.

"You were told to strip off", I snapped at him.  Now
do it."

"And I told your mate I didn't do that for poofters to
be able to take a look...."

He never got to the end of the sentence as my
suppressed fury at having quarrelled with Dan boiled
over, and I gave him a big back hand slap across his
face.  The sound of the slap was like a minor
explosion, and he staggered sideways with the force of
it, crashed into one of the bunks, and half fell, half
stumbled, to lie on the ground.

Joe came running in - he'd had the sense not to get
involved between Dan and me, but hearing the slap and
the crash, thought there might be problems.  He's a
big softy at heart, in spite of his awesome
appearance, and he rushed over and bent down by the
kid who was lying sprawled there, blood trickling from
his nose.  "Easy....", Joe said calmly.  "Lie there,
quite still, and get your breath back before you try
to move...."

As he said this, Joe turned around and looked up at
me, almost accusingly.  "He's only a kid, sir...."

"A wilful, disobedient, foul-mouthed kid, Joe!"  My
anger was cooling now - it's quick to flare up, but
once it has, it tends to go away equally quickly.
Unlike Dan, who will brood for days over some trivial
incident.

"Get to your feet!  And get naked!", I commanded him
again, and when he just glared at me and shouted "Go
fuck yourself!",  even Joe was horrified - well, after
all, the slaves we had in for training were mostly
very well behaved from the outset.  And Joe himself
could just not conceive of speaking like that to a
master.

Joe didn't seem to know what to do, but then he
reached down and grabbed the kid's arm and half
helped, half hauled him to his feet.  "Now, come on,
do as master Steve commands", be began.  "Master Steve
doesn't want to have to punish you....   What's your
name, anyway?  I'm Joe..."

"Angus."

He stood there, glaring at me, and still making no
move to get naked.  I thought he needed to be taught a
lesson that it was the master who controlled things,
so I said, quite calmly and quietly, "I don't like the
name Angus.  So as you're  a Scot, we'll call you
Andrew, or Andy for short."

"You can't change my name...."

"Listen, boy, I can do whatever I like to you.  I own
you, and I own you totally.  You no longer have any
free choice in things, and if I say you're called
Andy, then that's what you are from now on.  And, if
you want to avoid a whole lot of very unpleasant
things happening to you, I'd make up my mind that
'Andy' will co-operate and be a good slave, and leave
all the swearing and disobedience behind with
'Angus'."

"Fuck you....."

That was too much.  "Joe, strip him!", I commanded,
and Joe, even though he didn't really want to, did of
course obey me.  He grabbed the lad's left bicep,
holding him tight, then as the kid started to thrash
around at kick at him and fill the air with expletives
and threats, Joe calmly and deliberately reached down
and undid his shorts, and pushed them down over the
kid's snake-thin hips.

It was almost as if having his cock exposed to us made
the kid stop his wild antics - well, I suppose he was
aware of it bobbing up and down and thrashing from
side to side as he struggled with Joe.  Joe then
almost briskly gripped the bottom hem of the kid's T
with both hands, and in a single, smooth effort pulled
it up and over his head, letting it drop to the floor.

Andy stood there then and, unlike a lot of sixteen
year olds, he made no effort to conceal his cock from
me - I reckon that a lot of the "meat" that ought to
have gone into his body must have ended up in his
cock, as it was really on a heroic scale.  Or, more
properly, it was, I suppose, average size.  But on his
small, scrawny body it looked huge.  Joe dropped back
to stand respectfully away from the kid, but as he did
so caught sight of his bum and couldn't help giving a
low whistle and murmuring "Fucking hell!  Who did this
to the lad?  Some fucking sadist..."

"Joe, I will not have you speaking like that!  The
slave dealer needed to discipline this unruly slave,
and that's just a few cane strokes...."

"But his bum's bleeding!  And there are scabs, and
weals...."

I took a closer look at Andy, and saw that what Joe
had said was true:  I knew about the caning, of
course, but he'd been fitted with a heavy iron slave
collar, one of the cheap ones they import, like almost
everything else, from China.  They are just not
finished off properly so the rough edges lie on the
slave's skin on top of the shoulders and really rub it
raw.  It's very painful, as I know from personal
experience, and it only goes away when you've been
wearing the collar for some months, so horrible hard
patches of scabby material form.  The pain from this
can't have been helping with Andy's undeniable foul
mood.

"Joe, take him to the workshops and get that thing off
him, and bring him back so I can give him a nice chain
collar that won't be so painful.  And get some of the
antiseptic cream and analgesic salve from the
first-aid chest, and rub it into his collarbone and
his bum - try to make the kid as easy as possible."

I turned to Andy and went on "And you behave!  You've
been spared another caning tonight as your bum's in
such bad condition.  But any more terrible behaviour
from you and I'll do it anyway.  Now, go with Joe...."

As it turned out I got caught up in a few things, then
had dinner with Julie and Joe, and so it wasn't until
quite late that I got back to the stables.  Joe was
waiting patiently for me with the lad, who stood there
looking totally bored.  Joe handed me the collar,
muttering "I though you'd like to collar him, sir...."

I did want to do it of course, as it's an important
part of accepting the life of a slave for a man to
have his collar fitted, and I do believe that he has a
greater respect for his owner if it's his owner who
does it.    "Kneel, boy", I commanded, and Andy
hesitated, as if he was thinking about defying me.

"Get down!", Joe hissed at him.  "Remember what I told
you!"

I wasn't certain that I liked having the lad obey Joe
when he had almost defied me, but he knelt there in
front of me, totally naked.  I took the fairly chunky
chain Joe handed to me and put it around the lad's
neck, then snapped shut the fastener.  "This is your
collar, boy", I intoned.  "You wear it as a symbol, to
show others that you are a slave.  And as a reminder
to yourself of your status.  When you feel the weight
of this collar pressing into your skin, remind
yourself that you are a lowly slave, and that you
belong to me.  When you are collared you no longer
have responsibility for your actions providing you are
obeying me:  a slave does no wrong, other than if he
disobeys his owner."

I turned away and Andy scrambled to his feet, saying
to Joe "Where are those fucking shorts, then?"

"Stay naked, boy!", I snapped.  "You have your collar,
and that is all you need.  A slave should feel no
shame at displaying himself for his owner's pleasure,
even if he has a body that is as puny as yours is.   A
slave, wearing his collar as a symbol of his
servitude, is always wearing sufficient.  You are no
longer a man, but an animal, a beast in my service,
and animals have no need of a covering for their
nakedness."

I looked at Joe and went on "Keep an eye on him for
the next few days, Joe.  He's to work for the cook in
the kitchens, but he's just stupid enough to believe
that he might be able to escape.  So perhaps you'd
better put a shackling chain around his ankle when
he's at work, and lock him up at night.... At least
until we're sure he's accepted his status."

"Where's he going to sleep, sir?"

"Lock him in the punishment cell, I suppose.  That way
he won't run off during the night."  (Part of our new
extensions, to include the slaves' kitchen, included a
small space with a barred gate where any slaves who
might prove violent could be locked).

"Sir it 's so small!  It's designed to be
uncomfortable, as the  slave can't lie down fully
stretched out, and can't stand upright..... It's a
punishment cell, sir....."

"Well that's all there is.  He's not so big that it
will be as tough for him as for some of the slaves....
 All the beds here in stables are full, as you know."

"He could sleep in my bed, sir...."

"I hadn't planned to take you in to my room tonight,
Joe."

Joe seemed to hesitate, and blush.  "It would be OK
for him to sleep with me, sir.  As you say, he's not
all that big, and he could curl up against me....
There'd be enough room...."

Joe was almost stammering by the time he got to the
end of this sentence, and I looked at him long and
hard.  "I always thought you liked proper men, Joe....
This is only a boy!"

"It's really no problem, sir.... I like women, if you
remember.....  The boy will be safe with me."

"No fucking of him, Joe!  When his bum's healed a bit,
it's going to be me that takes his cherry.  It's
important for a slave to know who his owner is...."

"I don't fuck blokes, sir!"

I shrugged.  "Be especially sure you don't, Joe.  I
want this boy to know what it's like to feel my cock
as the first one up his arse."

"No-one's going to fuck me...", Andy began, and Joe
put an arm around his shoulder and made "Shhh...."
noises.

" You'd better start to teach the boy to behave, Joe.
Any more outbursts like that and I will cane him, sore
bum or not.  And you, boy..... Well, you've got
something to look forward to in the next week:  proper
sex, sex with a man.  You're going to ride my cock,
whether you like it or not."

With that, I turned and went into my room before the
boy could say anything else that would force me to
make good on my threat to punish him.  I'm not
gratuitously cruel to slaves, as you know, and I
really didn't want to have to cane the lad - well, not
for something relatively minor.  I didn't doubt that
he'd have to be thrashed at least once more before he
understood that lesson that all slaves must learn -
failure to obey results in physical punishment.

I turned on the TV monitor to take a look back into
the barn once I'd shut the door, and saw Joe leading
Andy towards his bed.  Joe stripped off as Andy looked
in amazement at his big muscular body, now liberally
covered with Joe's thatch of hair (well there was
little point in insisting he shaved himself now we
were no longer showing him, was there?), with the big
tattoos standing out starkly.  Joe gestured to the
bed, and when Andy shook his head and evidently said
"Fuck off" or something similar, Joe grabbed his arm.
At once Andy began to struggle and hit out and kick at
Joe, who therefore simply picked the lad up and almost
threw him into the bed.  Some of the other slaves had
evidently heard the commotion, as they came and stood
around laughing and evidently making ribald
suggestions about what Joe was going to do, as he
climbed in behind the lad and spooned up to him,
throwing his arm over Andy's skinny body to prevent
the lad from escaping.

Well it was all very well for me to order Joe to take
the lad into his bed, but that left me at a bit of a
loose end.  I couldn't hope to spend the night with
Dan, of course, and whilst I could have used one of
the other slaves from the barn, it's a lot of trouble.
 Frankly, having Joe as a fuck toy was convenient - I
liked his big muscular body next to mine, and
especially the feeling as I slipped my cock between
his solid bum cheeks, and of course Joe knew what I
liked.  I only needed to make a few gestures or grunt
a few words at him as I fucked him to have him move to
make it more pleasurable for me, and we were even used
to doing quite complicated things when I felt like it
- I could begin by fucking him on his hands and knees,
and then with my cock still buried in him, we could
roll onto our sides and right over so I was doing a
classic "missionary" job.  None of the other slaves
would know all my little likes and dislikes, and,
anyway, some of them wouldn't be particularly clean as
they would not have been expecting to receive my
attentions, and that would not make it so pleasant for
me.  So I decided to lie there and just wank, and even
that's not as much fun when you know the cum's going
to shoot all over the bed and will feel damp and slimy
as you roll over - it really is so much better to have
another bloke to catch it in his mouth.

I don't know what it was that made me do it, but at
some point in the middle of the night I woke up.  I
don't usually do this as I'm a pretty sound sleeper,
but I' left the TV monitor on and as I lay there I
couldn't help seeing the slaves all asleep in the barn
- some of them having decided to sleep together as
you'd expect, but the majority, exhausted after a day
of hard training, just sleeping alone quietly.  As I
moved the control, I got a view of Joe and Dan - Joe
was no longer spooned up against Dan, as the they'd
moved so they were face to face.  The kid seemed to be
lying with his head on Dan's big furry pecs, and had
his arms draped around Joe's neck.  I could almost
imagine the feeling of their cocks nestling
companionably close together, and somehow I found
myself feeling jealous - and not certain whether it
was because I was missing Joe, or whether it was
because I wanted to feel someone so unconsciously
hugging me, as  Andy was.  I longed for Dan, to be so
close to him.

The next morning I went and showered with all the
slaves as I sometimes do, just to remind them that not
all masters are pale, weak creatures.  Andy seemed to
have calmed down considerably as he stood there, next
to Joe, and followed the big man out of the showers to
breakfast.  As it so happened it was the regular day
for Dan and me to have our "review" meeting - we saw
each other a lot, of course, but had long ago decided
that a formal meeting where we reviewed the progress
of every slave would be a good idea as it would
prevent things from "falling through the cracks". I
reminded Dan, for example, that one of the slaves
needed to have the vet called, and that he needed to
get the owner's permission for the money to be spent.
That sort of thing.

As A result of the meeting going on a bit, I didn't
get out to make my inspection until about half past
eleven, and then I went via the kitchens to see how
Andy was doing.  The kid was sitting there in shorts
and a T chopping carrots, and he and the cook seemed
to be getting on all right  as they had the wireless
on and both evidently liked the same raucous rock
music.  I was incensed, however, to see that Andy was
not shackled to the floor as I'd ordered, so went to
the door and shouted for Joe to come over from the
course.

He arrived panting as he'd already been working hard
and he knew from my tone that I wanted him urgently.
"I told you to have this slave shackled when he was
working!", I snapped.

"Sorry, sir, but I thought it would be OK.  He's
calmed down a lot since he arrived, and he'll be no
trouble...."

"Who asked you to think?  I told you to have him
shackled, and you disobeyed me!  If you were any of
the other slaves and you'd so flagrantly disobeyed a
direct instruction, you'd be whipped.  Now, go and
fetch a shackle chain, and chain him to that waste
pipe over there."

"Sir, there's really no need....", Joe began, and Andy
cut in "I ain't' going nowhere, honest...."

"Shut the fuck up, both of you!"  I shouted.  And
then, looking at Joe, I went on "How is the lad ever
going to learn total obedience when he has you as an
example?  Now, do as I fucking well tell you!"

I thought for a moment that Joe was actually going to
carry on arguing with me, and his body language said
he was almost in "fight" mode, but, inwardly fuming,
he turned and stalked away.  As my blazing anger
cooled, I wondered why this meant so much to me:  was
it because Joe could have so quickly got to having
this simple, loving relationship with Andy - for,
looking at how they acted together, this is what it
must be - whereas Dan and me were still so far apart
even after such a long time?

Later that afternoon when I was next passing the
kitchen I was gratified to see that Joe had actually
obeyed me - Andy was securely chained to the cast iron
drain pipe by an ankle manacle, and was working away
under the cook's direction at hacking a huge hunk of
beef into small cubes with a very sharp knife, as we
were evidently going to have a casserole that evening.
 He saw me watching him and bent to his work, but was
glaring as he did so.  I suppose I felt a momentary
twinge of unease at seeing his attitude, given that he
did have access to the very sharp knives, but it was
only for an instant - he'd soon come to see that I'd
done him a real favour by buying him, I thought.

For the next few days whenever I went out on to the
course it seemed to me that Andy was there - I saw him
shinning up ropes, as agile and as quick as a monkey
almost, and then positively racing along the swaying
aerial walkway, and making record time along the
horizontal pole where you have to hang from your
hands.  Mind you, he was useless at getting over the
three metre wall, and some of the other exercises, and
when Joe saw me looking at him he commented "He's so
light that all the rope climbing and stuff is a lot
easier for him than it is for the others.  But because
he doesn't have the power they have, there's some
stuff he's much worse at, too."

"Shouldn't he be in the kitchen, or the laundry?"

Joe looked a bit embarrassed, and muttered "The cook
said we're having roast tonight so there's not so much
work to be done...."

He saw my look of faint disbelief on my face and went
on "Sir, Steve, look, it's important for the lad...
All his life he's not been good at anything, and
people have ignored him, or treated him badly.  Here
he's actually good at something, and the other blokes
all accept him, and actually help him with the 'power'
stuff - it's making him feel like a proper human
being.  I reckon it's better for him to get more self
confidence - he'll work all the harder in the
kitchen...."

I was a bit cross that Joe was talking to me like this
- I know he had permission to call me "Steve" when we
were being very familiar, basically, when I was
fucking him, but this was a different situation.
"I've told you before not to think!  I want him back
in the kitchen, now!"

Joe called for Andy, and the lad almost leapt from the
aerial ropeway and trotted over to us.  He was
actually smiling, something I'd not seen him do
before, as if he was expecting to be praised for
running the course.  Look, you may think me harsh, and
might actually be siding with Joe at this point, but
you have to remember that Andy was a slave.  "Back to
the kitchen, boy", I commanded, and looking at Joe,
added "And you go with him and manacle him."

"But sir....", Andy burst out, and I snapped "Shut
your fucking mouth, slave boy."

"At least let me finish this round....", he continued.

"It seems to me that you're able to do all this
exercise quite easily.  So presumably your bum has
healed now?  Let's see, shall we - drop your shorts!"

Most of the other slaves had finished the course now
and were clustered around waiting for further
instructions from Joe.  Andy stood there as if frozen
- why, I can't imagine, as all the slaves had seen him
naked in the showers;  but then, some men are funny
about stripping off outdoors.  "Get those shorts off
now!  Do I have to issue every order twice?"

I saw Joe nodding at the lad, and reluctantly, he
reached for the drawstring of the exercise shorts they
all wore out on the course, and the shorts dropped to
the ground.  I ran the palm of my hand over his skinny
buttocks, grasping each globe as I did and squeezing
it to feel the power of the muscle.  "Yes, you seem to
have healed - so tonight we'll confirm you as a
slave."

I looked at Joe, and went on "Clean him out properly
Joe, you know how I like you - make sure he's the
same."

"Please, sir....", Joe started.

"You too, Joe?  Making me give every fucking order
twice?  What's happening to this place?  You all seem
to have forgotten that you're slaves, and slaves
obey."

With that, I turned and walked away, but a few minutes
later I saw Joe leading Andy towards the kitchens and
the big man had his arm around Andy's shoulders, and
his head was bent low as if he was comforting and
consoling the lad in some way.

I lingered over supper deliberately that evening, and
even persuaded Dan to open a second bottle of wine, so
I was pleasantly mellow when I walked back to the barn
later on.  I knew it might be a difficult time, and I
thought that another glass of alcohol might help me
keep my temper - I really didn't want to get to the
point where Joe's behaviour would be such that I'd
have to order a major punishment for him in order to
maintain my position.

You may think that it would have been best for me to
simply take Andy into my room and fuck him - after
all, although he was likely to struggle and resist,
I'm an awful lot bigger and more powerful than he is.
But I'd been watching how Andy followed Joe around,
both physically and with his eyes when they were in
the same room, and how Joe seemed to have taken the
lad "under his wing":  not only on occasions like that
afternoon when he was taking him to the kitchen, but
they seemed particularly close in bed with the lad
huddled close to Joe, and Joe almost wrapping himself
protectively around.  It appeared to me that it would
do Joe good to see that Andy was only a slave, nothing
special, and that he should therefore be there when I
took the lad's cherry.

Consequently I opened the door into the main barn and
told Joe and Andy both to come in, and I could see
most of the other slaves sitting up in their beds,
watching expectantly to see what would happen next.
They were to be disappointed, as Joe obeyed, almost
pushing Andy ahead of him, and then I shut the door.

I'd already taken my shirt off and now I pushed my
jeans and boxers to the floor and went and sprawled on
my back on the double bed.  "Come on, kid - come and
lie beside me", I told him, stretching my arm out over
the pillow next to me, and indicating I wanted him
alongside me with his head on my arm.  "And you, Joe,
get on the other side of him."

We lay there side by side, and I began to play with my
cock, getting it hard.  Andy's head was somehow hot
and sweaty on my arm, and I turned to him.  "See that?
It's my cock, and it's going up your arse."

He dared to look away, at Joe, who shook his head a
little, as if warning the lad not to do anything
foolish.  "Yes, Andy", I went on.  "Right up!  And
it's your first time, isn't it?  You've not taken cock
before?"

"Sir, please, no.... Of course I haven't.... I'm not a
poofter...."

"If you ever use that word again, Andy, I'll have you
flogged.  It's grossly derogatory to men who enjoy
fucking other men.  It implies they're somehow
different, or effeminate, or weak - whereas, as you
can see, Joe and me are big and tough and strong.
It's perfectly natural for men to have sex, as you'll
find out - the male arsehole seems to be designed to
accommodate a cock, and you'll soon learn to like it.
Not that it matters - as a slave, you do as you're
told, and if I choose to use your arse, I will.  Joe
used to hate me fucking him, but now he enjoys it,
don't you, Joe?"

Joe just muttered quietly, totally without enthusiasm,
"I suppose so, sir."

This was beginning to look interesting.  "Now, Andy,
the problem with cocks and arseholes is that they work
better together when they're properly lubricated.  We
could just use that old standby, spit, but for a first
timer, I think it's better to use something a bit more
slippery.  So why don't you start wanking.....  And
Joe.... You get that little dish there on the bedside
table and be ready to catch the cum when he shoots."

"No, please...", Andy started, and I stopped him.  "Do
as you're told, boy!  Or else I'll have Joe wank you
forcibly...."

As I watched with interest, and Joe watched with a
look of sadness, Andy's arm reached out and he began
to play with his cock.  I've told you that he was well
built there, and once he was erect he wasn't all that
much smaller than me - and it was nicer for him to
wank, of course, as he'd still got his 'skin and as
the pre-cum started, his slimy cock head kept peeking
out at us.

The kid's breathing quickened and his hand went faster
and faster up and down his cock, and I sensed he was
on the point of cumming.  "Get ready, Joe!  Catch
every drop.....", I ordered.

The problem with young blokes wanking, as you all may
remember, is that you shoot a long way!  Joe and I
shoot with a lot less vigour (it happens, with age),
and a little fountain of cum shot right down the bed
initially, before Joe reached across and made Andy's
cock point downwards so he could catch the rest of the
cum in  the small dish.  It didn't matter, actually,
as there was still a lot there.

I rubbed my fingers through the cum, the propped
myself up on one elbow so I was looking down at Andy.
"OK, now I'm going to start stretching and lubricating
you - I'm not going to hurt you, and in fact, the
reason I'm doing this is to avoid hurting you!  But it
will feel strange at first...."

I reached between his legs and there was no problem at
all in finding his arsehole - he'd only got skinny
little buttocks, with almost no arse crack, and I'm
used to dealing with much bigger blokes.  He moaned as
my finger first touched his pucker and began to work
its way in, and I saw him turn his head and look
imploringly at Joe, as if about to beg the big slave
to make it all stop.  Joe gave him a look I can only
describe as one of reassurance, as if they'd talked
about this beforehand, and Joe had been pointing out
that this was going to happen.

Well, Andy was all right with one finger, and with
two, and although he whimpered and cried out as I got
three in and began to really use the mechanical
advantage I then had to stretch him wide open, all
seemed to be going well.  But when I pulled out of him
and began to stroke my own cock, lubing it with more
of the cum from the dish, he began again to say
"Please, sir, no... Please don't sir...."

I moved down the bed, my cock bobbing up and down, and
said as gently as I could, as I was getting excited
now, "OK, Andy.... Let's get your legs up in the
air...."

"NO!", he shouted,  "No fucking way!", and sat
upright, and then tried to scoot away across the bed
to get away from me.

"Grab him, Joe", I snapped, and, almost to my
surprise, Joe his put his arm around Andy's thin body
and held him there.

"Well, I thought this was going to be relatively
easy", I said, calm now, "But perhaps not.  So Joe -
please lay Andy on his back and then hold his arms
above his head, and hold them there tightly."

"Steve, please...."

"Joe, there are a lot of liberties I allow you when
we're in bed together, but in some things, I will be
obeyed.  Now, do as you're fucking well told - it will
be better for the kid in the long run, you know."

"Andy... It will be OK", Joe muttered.  "Remember what
 I told you....", and he pushed Andy down, on his
back, then went and crouched by the lad's head,
holding his arms down as I'd ordered him to.

I picked up Andy's legs and pushed them forward and
apart, and, gripping his ankles, shuffled forward so
my cock head was positioned at his pucker.  It felt
hot and sweaty to me, and you know how it is - however
calm you mean to be when you start, once your cock
gets  the feel of an arsehole, there's no stopping, is
there?

I pushed forward and really enjoyed the resistance the
kid was offering, and the way he began to try to
squirm away (utterly futile, with Joe holding his arms
and me gripping his ankles), and to shout out, begging
and imploring me to stop.  Then I was in, and, not
wanting to hurt the kid, I deliberately stopped for a
few seconds, before moving forward,  inexorably, until
my cock was completely buried in him.

It wasn't a great fuck, actually - I like a lot of
good muscle around to really slam into, and the kid's
skinny body didn't make for an erotic time - although
the way he continued to try to resist, and the noise
he was making, was a bit of a turn on, I suppose.

I know that in all the stories you read about this
sort of thing it's meant to be so amazing that you
can't help shooting after five or six strokes, but
real life isn't like that, even when you're fucking a
great arse, is it?  I read some statistics somewhere
that said that the majority of blokes don't actually
come in the arse at all.  But I worked away until,
frankly, I was bored - I was close to cumming, but
thought it would still take a bit of time, so I did
the thing that I find almost as satisfactory - I
pulled out of the kid, then quickly stroked my cock to
climax, making sure it was pointing directly along his
body so that my cum made a long streak from his navel
towards his pecs.  Then, taking most of my weight on
my knees and elbows as otherwise I'm sure he wouldn't
be able to breathe, I stretched my body over his so I
could bite at his neck and ears, and whisper  "There!
You're really mine now, Andy.  A lot of other men may
fuck you in your life, but you'll always remember me,
as I was the first."

I could feel his chest heaving as he breathed deeply,
and his heart was racing.  "Bastard", he muttered at
me.  "Fucking bastard!"

"That's disappointing, Andy!  I was really gentle with
you - some owners would have raped you!  I wanted you
to enjoy your first experience of cock.  Still, let's
see how you get on now."

I sat upright and rocked back on my haunches, and
looked at Joe who was still holding the kid's arms
above his head.  "Right, Joe.  Your turn now.  He's
good and stretched, so I want to see a good, hard
fuck, as I hold him down for you."

End Of Part Twenty.