Date: Thu, 15 Jun 2006 13:29:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Show, Part Twenty Nine

THE SLAVE SHOW

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

Part  Twenty Nine

Now, in retrospect, I see that this first fucking was
the start of the relationship between Andy and Reb.
Andy liked to use his cock, and after the vigorous
fucking I'd given the new slave I would normally have
expected Andy to go at Re's arse with his usual vigour
an enthusiasm.  But Andy seemed strangely reluctant to
follow my example,  and took his time in entering the
slave and then slid slowly and gently in and out of
him, occasionally bending forward to lie his body
along Reb's back and whisper in his ear as he did so.
And I'm not convinced he actually shot a load, either:
 you know how it sometimes takes a very long time to
actually reach a climax when fucking (and, indeed, a
lot of blokes fuck for a bit and then pull out and
wank over their partners, don't they?) - well,
thinking about it, with the gentle way he was going at
it I just don't think Andy had time to actually fire.
Still, after his "climax" he lay there on top of Reb,
and was again whispering in his ear, trying to calm
the enraged man who was still shouting through his
gag.

I undid the belt holding Reb down then and Winston and
Clyde pulled him to his feet.  He stood there looking
defiantly at me as I told him that any more noise and
he'd be gagged permanently.  Or was it actually a look
of defiance, or more one of the kind of panic mixed
with steely determination that a trapped animal shows?
   I looked at Winston and Clyde and ordered them to
take Reb out and get to bed, adding "I think it's best
that you boys don't fuck him tonight, though - he's
had enough from me and Andy, and those very thick
cocks of yours are a problem at the best of times,
leave him alone tonight, as none of you will really
enjoy a good fuck when the slave is sore.  You can
play with him otherwise now, though - if you want to
have him suck you, or of you want to amuse yourselves
with his body... get his nips used to having real men
enjoy them, that sort of thing."

Both big slaves grinned as  I said this, but Reb's
look of defiance, or panic, continued.  They had to
half drag him out of my room, and I heard the other
slaves in the barn outside give that sort of half
ironic cheer as he appeared, as they all knew what had
happened to him, having been there themselves.  Andy
looked at me enquiringly, but I dismissed him, too, as
once I've fucked nowadays I find that's enough, and
there was no way I wanted to do it again that night.

The next morning at breakfast Reb looked much the
worse for wear, and he had a few more bruises on his
body and what looked like a new black eye.  Winston
and Clyde sat there stolidly chomping down their
breakfast, only stopping to get to their feet politely
when I passed their table (and dragging Reb to his
feet, too).  They saw me looking at Reb, and Clyde
muttered, a bit sheepishly, "He gave us a bit of
trouble last night, sir.... Threatened to bite
Winston's cock off it went anywhere his mouth....  So
we had to be a bit forceful with him....  But there's
no permanent damage...."

"Good!  And tonight he should have recovered a bit
from his introduction to real sex yesterday, so if you
and Winston want to use him any way you choose, you
can do so.  But no damage to him, understand?  If I
find his anus is torn or bleeding, I'll punish you
both. Be a bit gentle."

Both slaves nodded in agreement, rapping out a crisp
"Yes, sir", and I looked at Reb.  "You're going to get
to enjoy sex, you know, and you're only making it
harder on yourself, and postponing the inevitable.
Winston and Clyde are great blokes - I've had them
both in my bed, and they can be really gentle and
exciting lovers, in spite of their size.  You ought to
ask them what they thought about sex before they came
here - even though they were brought up together, in
the same house and even shared a bedroom for many
years, they hadn't tried it.  And now, they can hardly
get enough of it!"

Reb just scowled at me, but at least he wasn't openly
verbally defiant, which was just as well as in that
"public" place I'd have had to order him to be
punished, so I moved on, talking to and generally
keeping tabs on the other slaves there as they ate.


I didn't really know what happened that night, but the
following morning Andy came to see me as I was
showering and mentioned that there'd been a fair bit
of noise - it seems that the two big brothers had
decided not to fuck Reb themselves as they knew their
cocks were so big that it might cause problems at this
early stage, so had  "invited" a couple of the
younger, slimmer slaves to use him whilst they held
him down.  "Most of the blokes decided to watch", Andy
added, "As there was no football on TV last night, and
I had to step in and stop it eventually as they all
wanted to try a nearly-virgin arse out."

"You can't be nearly virgin Andy", I added, smiling.
He saw that I'd started to go erect at the thought of
the two big men holding Reb immobile as other slaves
fucked him, so he dropped to his knees, put his arm
around my bum, and gently began to nuzzle and lick my
cock.  "Not time for that!", I said smiling at him as
I pushed him away.  "You know, I think Reb will adapt
eventually - can't you remember how reluctant you were
to enjoy sex when you came here first?"

That day I allowed them to undo one of Reb's arms so
that he ran the course only attached to Winston first
thing in the morning, and then to do it again only
attached to Clyde.  Andy looked a little surprised
when I ordered the process to be repeated in the
afternoon as slaves generally only ran the course
twice a day, and sometimes three times.  But four
times was almsot unprecedented, as it really was tough
going and there was the ever present danger of injury
as men's bodies simply reached the point of total
exhaustion.  But I insisted, saying that it would help
to "break" Reb, once he saw that there were limits to
even his power, strength and resilience.

Two days later Andy reported that Reb seemed to have
"given in" at night, and that Winston and Clyde had
both been up his arse.  Andy said he was worried about
the slave, though, and so we went out and as breakfast
was just finishing, we inspected Reb there and then.
With the other slaves all looking eagerly on, Reb was
commanded to drop his shorts and pull his T up to his
neck, and Andy then guided my fingers all down the
slave's delightfully muscled back and down over his
bum.  He raised his eyebrows questioningly at me, and
I nodded in agreement:  even though the stitches and
scabs had mostly healed by now, the tips of our
fingers could detect hard "damage lines" just under
the skin.  To an amateur it was no problem as the
appearance of the slave was unaffected, but Andy and I
both knew that the moment a judge ran her hands over
the man's flesh, this underlying problem would be
detected and he'd inevitably lose marks.  We both knew
there was no way Reb could ever be the champion that
his otherwise superb physique and handsome face
merited.

In a way I blame myself for what happened later that
day - after running the course chained to only one
slave, I really wanted to see how Reb would perform
alone.  And, indeed, his first two runs were
exceptional - he actually broke the course record on
the second one!  I thought that this would give him
pride in himself, and given that he was now taking
cock regularly, he must be well on the way to
accepting his status.  It was even gratifying that he
actually asked to be allowed to run the course a
fourth time, towards the end of the afternoon, and I
agreed.

It was one of those late Autumn days and the light was
beginning to fade as he set out, and the cold airflow
was already starting to make a mist rise over the
course.  My mobile went off and I took a long time
discussing potential new purchases with one of my
dealers, and when I looked around, Reb was no longer
in sight.  Most of the other slaves had gone indoors
to shower and get changed because of the cold, so I
called to Andy - who came at once, trotting around
from the other side of the barn.    It only took us a
few moments to realise that Reb must have run away,
from the far side of the course, and I at once got
into my car and told Andy to get on the quad bike, and
we drove around searching the nearby lanes for signs
of him.

Reb had been in some special forces thing, and so
although I searched for quite some time I knew I had
little hope of finding him:  with his training every
ditch, thicket, and piece of scrub would provide
cover, and from my car there was little chance of
seeing him.  It was with a huge reluctance that I
therefore returned home, and with an even greater
reluctance called the Slave Police to report an
escaped slave.

It was rare, of course - most of the slaves in that
part of Essex were "tamed" domestics, or worked on the
land chained together in their coffles in the fields.
The Slave Police took down details of Reb, though, and
told me that they rarely mounted full-scale manhunts
unless the slave had injured or raped, but that they
expected he'd be found and returned to me "sooner or
later" as it would be hard for him to live without
money, and all but impossible to find work to acquire
any.  "It's only if one of those 'underground railway'
organisations manage to contact him, sir, that he has
any chance.  Even then, we do manage to intercept some
of the slaves as they try to smuggle them out of the
country.", I was told.  Interestingly, the Slave
Police also went on to ask about the value of the
slave, and when I told them how little I'd paid for
him they laughed and told me to simply write it off as
it was hardly worth bothering for such a cheap slave,
and I had to explain that even the training we had so
far given him had substantially increased this
(although I decided not to tell them about the
deep-level problems with his concealed scars, as I
might want to make a claim on my insurers!).

They brought him back ten days later, long after I'd
given up hope of seeing him again.  The arrival of a
Slave Police cruiser in the yard caused all the slaves
to come out to see what was happening, some looking
plainly scared because of the reputation for swift and
savage summary justice that the SP were known to mete
out - I began to wonder what secrets some of my slaves
might be concealing from their past lives.  But the
two SP troopers seemed uninterested in my slaves as
they climbed out of their black vehicle with its
darkened windows, and stood there smoothing down their
tight dark green britches and generally preening
themselves as they put on their peaked caps and
adjusted their dark sunglasses.  I was watching from
my office as they commanded one of the slaves to come
and find me, and I went out to see what was going on.

The two troopers were fairly typical of the SP, or, at
least, as they are portrayed on TV.  They were big
men, and their tight uniforms were designed to make it
clear that they had fit bodies and knew how to use
them.  Their britches were so tight, I noticed, that
the curve of their bums was nicely outlined, and it
seemed to me that they probably wore no underwear,
and there was the clear suggestion of a cock outlined
at their front.  They had the usual collection of
slave prods, whips, canes, and handcuffs hanging from
the leather belt at their waist, and at my approach
one of them drawled arrogantly "Are you the owner of
this place?"

"One of them, yes.  My partner is in London...."

"We've got your slave back.  But looking around here
I'm not surprised he ran - all these slaves loose like
this - why aren't they chained up?"

"Because they are all trained.  This  is the first
escape we've ever had to report..."

"And it had better be the last!  The SP has better
things to do that go charging around the countryside
looking for badly trained slaves..."

"What's your number?"

"What?"

"You heard me, officer!  What's your number?  I don't
like your tone - we pay a lot of taxes here as this is
a successful business, and I don't like your insolent
tone to me as one free man to another.  I think a call
to your superiors might be in order."

Both troopers began to bristle with suppressed rage as
they clearly were not used to having their work
questioned.  Instead of giving me a direct response,
he snapped "Get a close confinement cage, as the slave
is unruly and will need restraining."

I nodded to a couple of the slaves and they went into
the store and came out with a small cage - we didn't
use them at all, really, but occasionally a slave
arrived in one from a dealer and then we piled it up
somewhere and never got around to throwing it away.

The officers released the boot of their cruiser and
reached in and dragged Reb out.  He stood there
blinking in the light, as it was pitch black inside
the boot, and he looked utterly pitiable:  he was very
thin, he seemed to be covered in bruises and
abrasions, and there were livid red cane marks over
most of his body - even the front of his thighs, where
a caning is of course particularly painful.

"He gave us a lot of trouble when we arrested him",
one officer told  me. "He was caught at Chelmsford
Station, trying to get a train to London:  they were
doing a spot check with metal detectors that day, and
his collar set it off."

"Where had he been before then?  It's been ten
days...."

"Fuck knows!  He'd got some clothes from somewhere,
and had a bit of money - well, enough for a ticket at
least.  But we grabbed him a week ago, and he's been
in our custody since then as we thought he needed a
few lessons in slave behaviour."

"I thought you returned slaves immediately...."

"Sir, we need to do training!  It's one thing for SP
officers to learn how to discipline slaves
theoretically, but we need a supply of meat to
actually practice on:  our men have to learn how hard
a punch can be without breaking bones, how to attach
thumbscrews and nipple clamps for maximum pain, and
things like that.  And some of the junior officers
have never been give the opportunity to really thrash
a slave with a punishment cane - there's a difference
between a real human body and the dead pigs we usually
have to practice on..."

"So you've tortured and abused my slave...."  I looked
at Reb as I said this, seeing the terrible state of
the bruises all over him, and noticing now the damage
to his nips from the claws of a clamp.  "...and he
doesn't seem to have been fed..."

"Quite so!  It's not our policy to feed slaves in SP
care as it helps to weaken them."

"I will be making a claim for damages...."

"...which will be denied.  We are specifically allowed
to use escaped slaves for training purposes.  Now,
let's put the slave in that cage....   And may I add,
sir, that if the slave escapes again within the next
month, you will be liable for all the considerable
cost involved in his re-capture."

It took them only moments - and a few blows - to
almsot fold Reb into the tiny cage, and then the
arrogant bastards asked me to sign their paperwork,
and drove off.  I saw all the other slaves beginning
to cluster around Reb and ask him how he was and stuff
like that, and realised that he might be turning into
some sort of martyr or hero.  I had a problem now - I
didn't want to keep Reb in that tiny cage, but neither
did I want to be seen to be "soft" on him.  So I
called out "Inside, all of you!  You heard the SP say
that I was responsible if Reb escaped again this
month, and so until he has learned proper slave
behaviour, he's going to stay in this cage!  And some
of the rest of you who have been getting a bit uppity
recently might like to take note that time spent in
the control of the SP is not exactly a holiday...."

They turned and went in, perhaps a little reluctantly,
and I stood there looking down at Reb as he attempted
to shuffle his limbs to get as comfortable as possible
in the confined space.  "You've brought all this on
yourself, you know", I said quietly.  "Once you were
enslaved you should have accepted it and tried to make
the best of it.  And you fell on your feet when I
bought you - you could have had a good life here..."

"..being showed off to the public, made to parade nude
in the show ring...."

"So what?  Are you ashamed of your body?  Most men
would give their eye teeth for a physique like yours,
your handsome good looks, and that cock... Or, should
I say, would have:  you're pretty much a wreck...."

"I'll recover!  Hard work on the course...."

"It's gone too far for that, Reb.  Do you remember
what I told you the first time you tried to escape?
That if you ever did it again, I'd have to have you
'calmed'?  Well, I'm afraid that's what we're going to
have to do:  all the slaves here heard me tell you
that the first time, and if I back down now,
discipline will be totally shot.  So it's the vet for
you.... But I will be merciful:  I'll let you keep one
of your balls, and I'll pay to have the other one
replaced by a prosthetic so when you're with men who
don't know, they will at least think that  you're
still a proper man.  Of course you'll know that's not
true, won't you?"

He just looked sullenly at me.  And I went on "Mot men
would at least try to beg me to be allowed to remain
whole...."

"I don't fucking beg for anything."

"So be it!  I will at least let you choose whether
it's the right one, or the left one, that the vet will
slice out.   I'll call for him to be here tomorrow,
and it will be done in front of all the assembled
slaves, without anaesthetic, when they've all run the
course in late afternoon..  Until then, you  can stay
there."

I turned and went indoors, and stood there for a long
time then looking at his poor body all hunched up out
there.  I began to feel really awful about him as the
rain began to fall, and Andy tapped on my door and
came in to ask if Reb could be covered up.

"No, Andy.  Leave him be.  The others have to see that
an escapee gets no mercy at all.  He's lucky that I'm
going to allow him to keep one ball - most owners
would have both removed..."

"Sir, please... You can't castrate him.... Even half
castrate him....."

"What choice do I have, Andy?  You tell me!  If I let
him go unpunished, the other slaves will begin to see
that they can ignore our discipline, too."

"Sir, please... It will destroy him!  Reb's a man, a
real man, and he sees himself as a man.  If you take
his balls, even one of them, you might as well kill
him as it will destroy him utterly.  He may still be
alive, but he won't be the Reb we all know..... and
like....."

""Ah, so you like him too, do you Andy?"

Andy looked sheepish.  "Yes, sir... He's so much like
Joe... Strong, confident, a real man... I so miss Joe,
and I thought that young Reb and me might hit it
off...."

"I know what you mean, Andy.  But that's what's
difficult about being a slave owner.  Sometimes you
have to do things to keep the business running that
you personally would prefer not to have to do.  It's
the responsibility that power brings on you, Andy:
people think it's easy, think that because you have
all these slaves at your beck and call, life must be a
piece of cake. But actually it can be tough - harder
even than being a slave, sometimes, as all a slave has
to do is to obey, after all."

I dismissed Andy then and he went away looking
terribly disappointed.  And later that evening, when
Dan returned from his meeting in London, we sat and
discussed it privately.  "You're right, of course,
Steve", he told me.  "Discipline would go to hell.
And it's interesting, isn't it, that Andy thinks Reb's
a bit like Joe? "  He leaned closer to me, to be more
confidential (we never touched or anything like that
around the house, as I've told you, as such little
gestures will one day inevitably give you away - and
anyway I'm not sure that if Dan did touch me sometimes
that I'd be able to restrain myself and not grab him
in my arms and hug him).  "Reb reminds me of you,
rather", he went on.  "That first time you ever came
here and I made you strip and kneel on the kitchen
table so Julie could trim your pubes:  you looked
defiant then, just as Reb does now.  And yet you were
so vulnerable, too, Steve..."

"I was never vulnerable!  I was pissed off about
having to strip naked in front of a woman...."

"...and you said you had fucked lots of them, so why
were you worried?"

He laughed as he said this, as we both knew how I'd
felt really.  And he went on "But you had that mixed
defiant - vulnerable look, Steve.  I think it's kind
of attractive in a bloke....  Reb has it, and I reckon
he's like you were:   really tough and strong, and
feeling the need to project that all the time, even
though you were shit scared about what was going to
happen, just as Reb is now.  Except, of course, that
he's totally fucked it up - you've got to take his
balls, or one of them, and I agree with Andy:  it will
destroy him."

I went away with this little revelation inside me -
I'd never realised before that Dan had ever thought of
me as anything other than tough and strong.  But I was
no closer to finding a solution to the problem of what
to do about Reb, and, indeed, felt even more badly
about it.  I looked out of the window and Reb was
there and I'm sure I could see him shivering as the
temperature was right down now the rain had stopped.
I though about going out and covering him with a
blanket, or at least a bit of tarpaulin, but knew that
doing anything like that would be seen as a sign of
weakness by the slaves, and I couldn't risk that.

Poor Reb had to shiver all night, therefore, and the
following morning I told Andy to unlock the cage and
let him out - adding that he was to be cuffed, though,
and hobbled so that he could not run.  I watched as
the thin, bruised, beaten figure, now shivering with
the cold, was led into the dining room.  The whole
place fell silent as they saw what had happened to Reb
(there was even a lash mark on his cock, I noticed),
and he sat there hunched over a bowl of the nourishing
muesli we give them, spooning it down as if his life
depended on it - well, after all those days without
food, I suppose it did.

For the rest of the day I had him shackled outside the
barn so that all the slaves coming and going to the
course would see him.  He made feeble attempts to jump
around a bit, and to rub himself all over with his
cuffed hands, to get some warmth into his body, and
fortunately we had one of those weak winter suns that
day, which helped him a bit.  Watching him I knew it
was wrong to half-castrate him and I knew I couldn't
go through with it, so I called the vet and cancelled
his visit.

The decision I made was a painful one:  I knew he was
valueless as a show slave because of the underlying
scars from his first whipping, and so there was
nothing to lose by marking him further.  A public
branding would show the other slaves how serious I was
about punishing Reb, and I reasoned that he could bear
the immediate agony;  and the shame of having a brand
on his hide for the rest of his life would be
something he'd hate, but which he might wear with some
sort of perverted pride.   Consequently at the end of
the day's exercises Andy marshalled all the slaves
together into neat ranks, and I commanded Clyde and
Winston to fetch one of the heavy refectory tables out
from the dining room, and then to hold Reb down on his
face on it.

Some owners, I know, do brand their slaves anyway as a
mark of ownership, but these are generally quite small
and relatively inconspicuous on the bum, or perhaps
the top of the arm at the shoulder.  We didn't do this
because defacing a slave's hide like that was not
allowed for show purposes, but nevertheless we did
have a branding iron around the place - one that was
probably intended for heavy field workers or some sort
of other slave who was not going to be seen much, as
it was in the form of a large "S" about five inches
long!

I heated the iron in a portable gas flame as Reb and
the other slaves watched, and then made a little
speech, saying that although I had said that Reb would
be castrated if he caused more trouble, I had decided
to be merciful - but that Reb still needed punishing,
and punishing in a way that would make it impossible
for him ever to even try to escape again.

There was total silence as  I commanded Winston and
Clyde to hold Reb completely immobile, a silence that
was broken by Reb's agonised shrieks as I pressed the
red hot iron into his left bum cheek, and held it
there as the acrid smoke rose from his burning skin.

They all looked astounded as I then began to re-heat
the iron, watched in appalled horror by Reb, and as I
told Clyde and Winston to stretch out his right arm
and hold it firmly.  Reb sounded as if he was almost
hoarse after he'd finished screaming as the brand
seared into his upper arm, but  I couldn't finish
there: this had to be an exceptional branding, one
that all the salves could see was a punishment as well
as merely marking him.  I heated the iron one more,
told the two big slaves to flip him onto his back and
hold him really tight, and then seared another big "S"
into his left pec, allowing the curl of the bottom of
the S almost encircle his nip.

I'm sure they all thought it was over then, but I
needed to do one more thing to Reb to really bring
home to everyone that this was indeed a terrible
punishment and not mere ownership marking.  Winston
and Clyde clearly thought they'd misheard me when I
told them to hold his body totally still and clamp his
head between Winston's powerful thighs, and as the
glowing red iron moved towards Reb's face, he was
screaming "No, please, no....", before the agony of
the hot iron searing into his cheek turned it into a
totally incomprehensible scream.

I'd finished then - four big brands on a slave was
unprecedented, especially one that would permanently
disfigure his face - and I allowed Reb to stagger to
his feet.  He was totally humiliated as his bowels had
let go at some point and there was a streak of shit
staining the inside of his thighs, and a dribble of
piss was still running from his cock.

"I have allowed Reb to retain his manhood", I told the
appalled slaves who were still standing there silent,
stunned by what they'd seen.  "But everyone who now
sees him, whether he is naked or dressed, will know
that he is a slave, and a slave who incurred his
owner's displeasure to the extent that is body was
scarred in this way.  Reb will never take part in a
slave show now, of course, but when he has recovered
he will work for Andy as a subsidiary trainer."

I dismissed the slaves then, and told Andy to lock Reb
into the cage again, as he was to spend the night
there as further punishment.  Andy looked pleadingly
at me, but his training held and he did as I
commanded.  It was cold that night again though, and
at a bout midnight I called Andy to my room and told
him he could take a blanket to Reb - I watched then
through my window as Andy pushed the blanket through
the bars at Reb, who was clearly in agony still as he
could barely manage to take it and cover his limbs.
I need to remind you that I hate unnecessary cruelty
to slaves, and that I had done this to Reb to avoid
the lesser evil for him of destroying his personality
totally by removing his testicles;  and when you have
acute burns on your skin, it's not actually a bad idea
to make them go cold, as it does help to take some of
the pain away.

The following day, though, I did relent and after
breakfast, once all the slaves were out on the course.
 I went and unlocked Reb's cage and allowed him to get
out.  He stood there in front of me, hunched up, weak
from lack of food, and trembling with the cold and the
pain he was in. "You'll thank me for this one day,
Rebel", I told him softly.  "You are at least still an
entire man - had I not punished you like this I would
have had no choice but to take your manhood as that is
what had been promised.  But understand this - if you
dare to disobey me ever again there will be no going
back - you will become a eunuch and never again know
the pleasure of feeling your sex in action."

He stood there silently, head bent, and I went on
quietly "Have you nothing to say, Reb?"

I could see him agonising over his choice of words.  I
was half expecting some expletive, but after a few
moments he half mumbled "Thank you, master."

I felt a surge of exhilaration going through me!  I
had tamed him finally - or, at least, he was accepting
his status and I would not be forced to destroy him.
Now I needed to make sure that he would be useful to
me for the rest of his working days as I did not want
some cowardly trembling thing who was not able to take
charge of the slaves working out.  So I went on "You
heard me say that you will be working as a trainer,
for Andy.  Obey him as you would obey me.  I need a
strong, healthy, fit slave who is experienced in
assault courses to ensure that the slaves do not
slack, and you are a champion at it as we know.  Work
hard at this and you will not have a bad life - as
Andy's assistant you can choose the slaves that you
want to fuck, and you need not take cock from any man
except of course me on those occasions when I choose
to take you.  Is that understood?"

"Yes, master".

Reb was shaking almsot uncontrollably now, and I felt
again the pang of pity and desire I had when I had
first seen his vulnerability lurking below his outward
bravado.  So I took him to our little infirmary and
gently rubbed analgesic cream into the brands on his
body - it was extremely painful at first for him, but
as the soothing medicine worked its way to calm his
tortured nerve endings, he began to relax.    I ran
the tip of my finger along the scar on his pec then as
he watched, and moved on to do the same thing on his
face.  "You bear the marks of a slave now, Reb, and I
hope it will remind you for ever of your status.
There is no hiding them, whether you are clothed or
not, and all men seeing you will know that you are
merely owned property. No one will ever believe that
you might be a free man, and you are no longer the
handsome arrogant male figure that you were:  your
body and face are permanently disfigured by the mark
of a slave, and all who see you will know that you
must have been particularly disobedient to warrant
such treatment."

Reb continued to stand there quietly, and I went on
"You will need to work hard to convince the slaves
that you are to train that you are strong and
confident, and I expect that, at least initially, you
will need to fight some of them to prove that you are
capable of commanding them.  You are a trained
fighter, so make sure you do not permanently injure or
damage them.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, master."

"Good.  Now go and shower, as much as you can without
causing yourself extreme pain.  And then tell cook
that I have said that you can have some food now.  And
for the remainder of the day you can rest, as I will
expect to see you on the course tomorrow."

"Thank you, master."

I'm not sure I was not convinced, and that perhaps Reb
was laying on the "master" stuff a little thickly.
But later that evening I saw Andy talking to him very
earnestly, with a lot of gesticulating and so on that
men do when they are serious.  And later Andy cleared
a slave out of the bed next to his so that Reb could
sleep there that night.

Reb's next run of the course the following day was not
good, as you might expect, as he clearly was in pain
still.  But in many ways this showed his inner
strength to the other slaves, and by the afternoon he
was actually assisting some of the younger ones over
the higher obstacles.

It took two weeks for Reb to fully recover and become
the "champion" course user he had been, and he seemed
to take a perverse pride in is brands:  even though he
was allowed to wear shorts and a T for the training,
he deliberately adopted a new "uniform" of  one of the
tiny posing pouches that had once been the "show"
uniform as I have explained, so that all could see the
marks on his body as he herded the slaves on around to
ensure their fitness.

On my way through the barn in the late evenings I also
saw that Andy and Reb were now invariably sharing
Andy's bed.  Reb never came to the shows with us as I
decided he was to remain behind to take charge of
training when Dan and Andy and me were away, and one
day, in an idle moment when all our slaves had been
groomed and showing was not yet ready to start, I
commented to Andy that I was pleased with Reb's
progress.

"...and he seems to be your favourite, too, Andy....
He's always in your bed."

Andy seemed to blush a little, although why,  I can't
imagine, as it was well known that he and Reb were
lovers and it was, after all, perfectly natural.

"Yes, sir."  He mumbled.

"It must be a change for you, Andy - after all that
time when Joe was fucking you, to have Reb there to
use.  I was watching him the other day and thought it
was time I fucked him myself as he looked so desirable
on the course.  I don't see why you should have all
the fun...."

"Yes, sir...", Andy mumbled again, and now he was
blushing considerably.

I realised why and laughed out loud.  "Oh Andy, he
fucks you, doesn't he?  Our Reb still doesn't like
taking cock...."

"Sir, he makes love to me, sir, yes."

"Makes love to you, Andy?  What are you going on
about?"

"He's like Joe, sir.  He doesn't just fuck me, he
makes love.  Proper, tender love, where he kisses me
and plays with me and we laugh and talk.... He does
then fuck me, sir, but it's the end of the session,
not the whole reason for it."

"And what about you, Andy?"

"Sir, please...."

"Tell me!"

"I love him too, sir.  I want him, want to touch him,
smell him, feel him, laugh with him...."

"And what about the other slaves?"

"Oh, we fuck them, sir.... I mean, we're the trainers,
and we need to do that, don't we?  Reb does three or
four when I'm a way at a show, and I fuck the show
slaves, sir...."

I began to laugh.  But somewhere inside I was jealous,
I think.  I saw how these two slaves had adapted their
lives because they loved each other, and they were now
so close, almost constantly.  And I couldn't help
comparing them to Dan and me, and the way we snatched
odd fleeting moments of happiness in our lives which
were otherwise lived apart.

End Of Part Twenty Nine