Date: Sat, 17 Jun 2006 03:20:34 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Show, Part Thirty

THE SLAVE SHOW

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

Part  Thirty


Life sometimes just flies by.  You think you've got
all the time in the world, you think you're in
control, you think you've got it made:  our business
continued to boom, Dan and I could easily have sold up
and retired, but we enjoyed the life - enjoyed going
to slave dealers, of showing the slaves (which
continued to give us the opportunity to be together in
bed), and Dan particularly liked being part of "the
establishment" now.  He was one of the stewards and
judges at Crufts, and each year enjoyed being there,
immaculately turned out (as only a man who has the
benefit of slaves to take care of his clothes can be),
strutting around organising things generally.

Shane, recognising his footballing career was going to
be short, had always taken an interest in "other
things" and even in his early years had agreed to take
part in quiz shows and "celebrity" games on TV, and
wrote an "inside football" column for one of the
Sunday papers.  So it was  almsot "obvious" that the
BBC would choose him to front their sports coverage
generally, and I don't think he minded all that much
when he had to hang up his boots as his new career
provided all the excitement and travel that he liked -
in one of our occasional "candid" conversations he
told me that it was good to be part of the general
cultural life of the country as when he and Jason had
dinner parties he could now always get the "great and
the good" to attend, which lightened the after dinner
conversation a  bit.  "The trouble is, Steve", he
added, " is that all Jason's colleagues are just so
fucking bright that they don't understand even each
other, so what chance do I have?"

"But you're still happy with Jason?"

Shane gave me a very funny look.  "Steve, it must be
difficult for you, I know, as you've never found a
real soul mate.  So you probably just can't understand
how it is for Jason and me...."

I felt so sad as he said this as of course I had
indeed  got Dan - well, I suppose, realistically, a
share of Dan.  But if that was all there was on offer,
that had to be enough.  And I wished that I could
share with Shane how I felt, but there was just no way
that I could shatter his illusions about his parents,
was there?

Shane went on, though "It's like Liam, I guess....
Who'd have thought that after all that screwing around
he did when he was young that he'd turn into such a
dull bloke?  That job as a corporate lawyer, the house
in Weybridge and the commuting, the two kids....  He
was always the wild one, and now he's the pillar of
respectability and, frankly, he's boring."

"I reckon you can't judge people on the outside,
Shane.  Who knows... He's a pillar of rectitude as far
as his colleagues and the world in  general is
concerned, but at night, in bed....."

We both laughed, and Jason went on "You know, Steve, I
reckon you're a bit like that - on the outside you're
the big, tough slave trainer, always fucking a new
slave personally even though you could give that job
to Andy now, and still sleeping around with the slaves
generally..... I reckon you're the opposite of Liam:
on the inside, you're conservative, and you'd really
like just one partner to live with permanently...."

I had to turn away, as a huge wave of sadness swept
over me.  Of course I wanted that, I wanted that more
than anything on earth, but it just wasn't available
to me as Dan was already spoken for.  Still, later,
when I thought about it, I reckoned I was at least
lucky to have found the love of my life, even if I
couldn't have him totally.  Some men never even get
that far.

It was only a couple of days after that conversation,
though, that the lives of all of us were shattered.
As luck(?) Would have it, Dan and I were at a big show
at the NEC, and were lying in bed together when his
mobile went off - his personal mobile, that is, the
one that was only used by Julie and me, not the one he
had for business.  It was very late, and he leaned
over me, avoiding my hands as I playfully grabbed at
his naked body, and muttered "Why's Julie calling me
now?"

As he answered the phone, though, he changed:  his
body went rigid, and I heard his voice falter as he
gave a series of "Yes", and "Daniel" and "She is...."
And then "Where?"  And "I'll come right away...."

He got out of bed, and was almsot stumbling around.
He was white as a sheet, and in response to my alarmed
questions finally managed to stammer out that it had
been the police:  Julie had been in an accident on the
M11 and they had found his number on the frequent
callers list on her phone.

We threw our clothes on, I stopped briefly at the
slave trailer to tell Andy to take charge, and then we
drove across country to Cambridge, where Dan had been
told Julie had been taken.  I drove, as Dan was
incapable of it, sitting there totally rigid and white
as we raced through the night.  It was too late,
though:  when we got to the hospital Shane and Jason
were already there, and Shane threw his arms around
his father and managed to get out "Dad, mom's
gone.....", before both men broke down.  Jason took me
aside, and muttered "Julie was coming home from a
friend's silver wedding.... There was an accident
ahead, and she stopped.  But then some bastard in a
heavy lorry simply failed to see it all, and ploughed
into the back of the stationary traffic.... There's
about ten dead.... She wouldn't have felt anything,
they say....."

I never want to live through anything like the next
few weeks again.  Dan was in a very strange state - at
one level, he was icily calm, doing some regular
business, attending to all the formalities of Julie's
funeral, going to the inquest....  And at another
level, he was wrecked - hurting inside so much that he
couldn't talk about anything other than "business"
matters.  I wanted to hold him, to hug him, to tell
him that it would all be all right in the end, that
he'd get through this, and come out the other side....
But I couldn't.  Every time I even tried to have a
non-work conversation with him, he simply shut me up.
And there was absolutely no way we could even think of
being in bed together, where we might have been able
to hold each other and talk about things like this.

The funeral was private - there was a lot of coverage
in the papers because of the "carnage" on the
motorway, and because of Shane's fame, and some of
them even published pictures of Dan, Shane, Jason,
Liam and his wife, and me, just standing there outside
the Chelmsford crematorium, but mercifully they didn't
intrude too much on our grief.  We took Julie's ashes
back to our place, and, watched by the slaves, who had
all liked Julie, scattered them on the small hill
where all those ears ago we'd buried Joe.

The house seemed empty when we went back to it.
Although it was a cold, raw Essex winter day, the
heating was blazing away and the temperature was
normal, but it seemed cold and we all stood around so
terribly conscious that Julie wasn't with us.  We had
a late lunch - and all of us looked stricken when Dan
said that the last time we'd all sat down "as  a
family" like this was only two months ago, at
Christmas.... We all remembered how much Julie liked
the traditional festivities, and how she relished
being surrounded by "her boys" and Liam's family.

Liam and his wife, and Shane and Jason, then had to
leave to go home, and in the hall Shane gave me a hug.
 "Look after dad, Steve...  He's pretty cut up still."

"You know I will."

"Yes, Steve.  Ever since you were freed , you've been
here for them, for mom and dad....  Call me if there's
anything you need..."

"I think we'll manage - you and Jason have your own
lives...."

We hugged again, they left, we heard the cars pulling
out of the drive, and then we were alone.

Dan was just sitting in front of the fire, on the
sofa, as he had done for so many years, and I went and
sat by him.  I went to put my arm around his shoulder,
but he shrugged me away.  "No, Steve..."

"Dan... Please.... We're alone now...."

"No, Steve....  It isn't right...."

I wouldn't be put off, though, and in spite of his
protestations and attempts to ward me off, I wrapped
my arms around him and held him close.   "Dan,
please.... You loved Julie, I know that.  But she's
gone, Dan - not in your heart, of course, you'll
always remember her.  I'll always remember her.  But
she's not here now, Dan, and never will be again...."

"Steve, you don't know what it's like...  I can't
forget her, Steve...."

"Of course not!  Nether will I.  But now the funeral's
over, we've got to get back to normal...  You've been
so strange these last weeks, which is to be expected,
but you've got to pick your life up again...."

Dan just sat there, silent and unmoving in my arms.

"Dan.... You know I love you....  Let's go upstairs,
let's....."

"No, Steve!"

"Dan, why not?"

"I can't, Steve.  Not here.  Not in this house,
Julie's house...."

"She's not with us any more, Dan.  You know that.
Now, come on, mate - let's hold each other, let's
comfort each other...."

"No, Steve.  I still love Julie, you know."

"And I still love you, Dan, just as I always have.
Doesn't that count for something?"

As always, though, whenever I mentioned love, Dan just
shut up and closed himself off.  After a few minutes
he said quietly "I'm OK, Steve, really I am.  You
always think of yourself as the tough one, but I'm
strong too, you know.  And I will get through this,
but it will just take time - so give me time, Steve.
I'm going to start working properly again tomorrow,
and we'll take it from there...."

He stood up then and went to the stairs, gesturing for
me to stay behind.  I reckon I was wrong, then:  I
should have followed him, should have held him, should
have forced him to let me undress him, and make him
hold me close all night, and I should have fucked him
as we always did even if he wasn't ready for it (I
was, after all, physically stronger than him).  And if
I had, things might have been very different - we
might have started a totally new relationship then,
one where we were together all the time.  But I didn't
- I watched him climb the stairs slowly, and with a
heavy heart, and my body slumped in misery and defeat,
I made my way over to my own place, stripped off, and
just lay alone in my bed, totally unable to sleep.

The next morning we did indeed begin work again -
there's always more than enough to do,
Enough to do, especially as we were in the middle of
the show "season", and Dan seemed to be functioning
properly.  And, to my surprise, when he made
reservations for the hotel for the Great North Show,
he booked us only one room as usual.

Incredibly, the established pattern of our lives
resumed - we worked together, ate together (all the
food now being sent over from the slave kitchens), and
then each night I went across the yard back to my own
place.  But at shows, in our hotel, we slept together,
and fucked, and everything was as before, except for
Julie not being there.  At first I felt like shaking
Dan, screaming at him that we could be properly
together now, but somehow I never did.  I couldn't
even really talk to him about it,  as it somehow
seemed to be so "normal" just to let things run their
course and continue as usual.

Was I happy?  Yes, I suppose I was.  I mean, I had
Dan, and I had our life together much as it always had
been.  But what could it have been?  How much better
could it have been if only I'd really had the courage
to tackle Dan, to demand that we began to live
together fully and completely.  Perhaps I was scared,
though, that Dan was not ever going to make such a
commitment to me, and worried that if I pushed him too
hard I might lose that part of him that I did have.

What can I tell you about those few years?  Not much,
really, as we had our "routine" of work, and attending
shows, and buying and training slaves.  We watched
Shane on the TV, we had occasional visits from he and
Jason, and from Liam and his family.  We were all
growing old together, I suppose, and, as it does,
life's pace seemed to slow.  We took pleasure from the
familiar, rather than from the excitement of doing new
things.  We had our family, we had our favourite
slaves working for us - Andy and Reb now mostly ran
the place themselves; and of course we had our
memories, of Joe, Julie.... and of pleasures and
excitements that we now hardly bothered with.  We were
content with the safe familiarity of our house and our
work, and as our fame had spread, we had no financial
worries (and, indeed, I suppose we were actually rich,
I suppose).

Fate has a way of intervening in these things, though.
 And I was soon to discover that I was not going to
continue to grow old gracefully with Dan at my side.

He'd been complaining about not feeling well
generally, and of pains and aches in his belly, and at
first I'd laughed and told him that it was because he
never did enough exercise - I know I didn't, but at
least I still ran the course occasionally, whereas Dan
sat in the office most of the time.  Finally, after it
had been going on for weeks, I think I almost lost my
temper and said I was sick and tired of listening to
his moaning and whinging, and that he should go and
see the doctor.

He finally did, but seemed strangely quiet that
evening as we sat together watching Shane host a
sports quiz programme, and now I see he deflected my
questions about what was wrong with him in the way he
did when he didn't want to talk about things.  But
after a second visit, a week later, he came home and
called me into the office.

We'd always been able to separate our "private" and
"business" lives, I suppose, and it was therefore
interesting that Dan chose to talk to me there.  He
began to discuss our partnership, about how well the
business was doing, about our assets.... And then
said, quietly, "Steve, I've decided to leave my half
of the business to Shane and Liam.  It's not that I
don't think you deserve it or anything, and we go back
a long way, and without you there wouldn't be a
business, but family is family...."

His voice trailed off, and I nodded.  "Sure.  That's
no problem.  They're going to get my half too, one day
- I've always thought of them as kind of like my sons,
too.  But that's a long way off - and it's not as if
they need the money, is it?  Shane's coining it in,
and Liam is a partner in his firm now...."

"Steve, no, it isn't.  It's bad news, I'm afraid.  I
waited until the tests came back...."

He said it so calmly, but at once my heart began to
race.  He saw the look of alarm on my face, and went
on quietly "Those pains.... It was cancer of the
prostrate, and it's spread into my pelvic bones.
There's no cure."

"No!  Look, let's sell everything, go to America, get
the best people...."

"Steve, it's no good.  There really is nothing they
can do once it's in your bones.  They can't always
control the pain all that well, either.  But it won't
be for long...."

He saw me looking horrified, and went on "I'll be able
to do Crufts, I think, but that's it."

"No...."

"Yes, Steve.  I'm afraid that's it."

"No, you can't leave me.... There must be
something...."

He got up, and came around the desk and put his arms
around me.  "Hey, big tough slaves don't cry,
remember?  And it's me that's leaving....."

I was just sobbing.  I couldn't bear it.  Dan was
everything to me, I knew.  I'd had little enough of
him during his life, really, and now there was going
to be nothing.

He carried on comforting me.  "Come on, Steve... We
all die eventually - it's the only sure thing in this
life."

"...but not yet, Dan....!  I wanted more years
together...."

"And sometimes fate plays unkind tricks on us, Steve.
And you and me, well, we haven't even got the heaven
thing to look forward to, have we?  There's no big
place up in the clouds for you and me, as neither of
us believe any of that mumbo-jumbo.  One day we'll
have to say goodbye, and that will be that...."

He hugged me again and went on "But , you know, I'm
strangely calm now that I know what the problem with
me was.  And I can face dying, but you've got to be
strong for me, Steve.  I can't do it without your
support...."

It's too painful, still, to recall all that
conversation, and we talked for not much more than
half an hour.  I wanted to tour the world, go off with
Dan to all those places we'd never seen, spend every
minute with him, but he refused.  He somehow knew that
the next few months were going to be tough for him,
that things would get worse and worse, and he wanted
the dull familiarity of our routine, of our home, and
our business, around him to help him through it.

As it so happens Crufts was a triumph for us that
year, as one of our best young slaves was "best in
show".  I ought to have been delirious with happiness
at winning there again, but seeing Dan walking so
slowly, but with such dignity, towards the judges to
collect the cup almost broke my heart.  And in bed
together that night, Dan was so introspective.

We lay together, with my body spooned against his and
my arm over him, the flat of my hand resting on his
belly.  It was good that we weren't facing each other,
as I would have hated him to see the tears streaming
down my face as he told me quietly "This is where it
all began, really, isn't it, Steve?  I wonder what our
lives would have been like if I hadn't thought I could
win some money by borrowing you from the site and
showing you?  I'd probably still be a project manager
or something, although I might have retired by now, to
a little house in a village somewhere.... And you...
Well, although you were supremely fit and strong then,
it's a relatively short life for a construction slave
as once you get into your forties you just can't do
all the stuff as well as a new, young slave.... So
you'd have been sold off somewhere - to a factory,
perhaps... Who knows!  But here we are...."

"Yes, here we are...."

"It's been a good life, Steve."

"It's not over yet, Dan...."

"Steve, let's not fool ourselves.  You saw me today -
I don't want to go on like this.  I want to go now,
whilst I still have some dignity left."

"No, Dan, don't say things like that... I can't bear
it, I can't lose you...."

"You were always strong, Steve, always brave, always
in charge.  Now you've got to carry on like that.
I've made my mind up, Steve.  This is the last night
we'll be together - I want to die at home, Steve, and
my mind's made up.  I've a few last things to do in
the office when we get home, and then tomorrow
night...."

I protested.  I begged him.  I told him we should see
more doctors and get better pain control drugs.  And
then finally he turned around in my arms, wiped his
fingers tenderly down my cheeks, feeling my tears, and
said "Steve, my mind's made up.  Let's to waste our
last night together.  Let's pretend it's the first
time, let's pretend we are young and strong and happy
again....."

And we did.

I was numb on the drive back home the next day, unable
to speak as Dan talked away on his mobile, making
arrangements for this and that.  And when we got back
he called all the slaves together and congratulated
Andy and Reb on the superb work they'd done in
preparing young Carl for winning best in show, and
even declared a half day's holiday.  It seemed almost
surreal as he carried on working in the afternoon,
putting his papers in final order, and when we sat
down to dinner together it was all so normal that I
thought he must have changed his mind.

We sat together on the sofa as we had done so many
times before, and then Dan looked at me.  "You're the
best friend I've ever had, Steve.  You've given me
more happiness than anyone I've ever known...."

"More even that Julie?"

Dan looked thoughtful.  "Oh Steve, does that still
hurt?  No, not more than Julie, Steve, just different.
 I've been blessed with having two people who loved
me...."

He paused for a moment, as if about to say more, but
then his expression changed.  "But now you've got to
do one more thing for me, Steve.... I've taken all the
stuff the vet leaves with us in case a slave gets
injured on the course and put it into this one
syringe.  But it needs to be into the muscle,
Steve....  Help me.... Inject it, will you?"

"No!"

"Steve, you love me, remember?  And I ask you to do
one last thing, one thing that I can't do myself...."

"No, Dan... I can't.... I love you...."

"Then do it, Steve."

"No."

Dan looked at me, seeing my whole body trembling with
emotion.  He felt in his pocket and brought out my
slave collar.  "On your knees, Steve!"

Almost in a trance, I did as he commanded, and felt
once more the icy chill of the metal as he fastened it
around my throat.  "Now, you fucking slave, do as
you're told!  Take that syringe, and inject me!"

"No..."

Dan slapped my face.  "You're a slave, Steve.  You
always were.  A slave who loves his master, but one
who can be disobedient.  Now, you fucking slave, just
for once, do as you're commanded...."

I was sobbing and crying almost uncontrollably now,
but there was something compelling me to act.  I
gently turned Dan half over, and plunged the syringe
into the big muscles of his bum.

"Steve, thank you..."

"Oh Dan, if only you loved me as much as I loved
you...."

"I do, Steve...."

"You never said...."

Dan's life was ebbing away as I watched, and he
mumbled "You were a fucking disobedient slave
sometimes.... And I was always having to tell you how
stupid you were.   Don't you know anything, Steve....?
 That when you really love someone, you don't have to
keep saying it.....?  Don't you know that...."

"Dan..."

But he was gone, a faint smile of contentment on his
face.

I went through the next two weeks on autopilot.  I was
functioning, but not reasoning.  I know I removed the
syringe, and our faithful vet never queried the new
order we placed for more strong painkillers..  There
was no inquest, as Dan's doctor simply signed the
death certificate, knowing how far his cancer had
progressed.

The funeral was even worse than Julie's, and
afterwards Shane and Liam wanted to come with me and
scatter Dan's ashes on the small hill where we'd left
Julie.  But Jason, seeing my look of utter bleakness,
whispered to them that he thought that I needed to do
this alone, and after hugging me, they left me.

I wasn't alone, though, as when I stood there, looking
down on our life's work, about to open the container
and say a final goodbye to the man I'd loved for so
many years, there was a faint rustle in the bushes and
Andy appeared.   "I remember how I felt when we said a
final goodbye to Joe...", he murmured.  "...and I
didn't want you to be alone."

"But I am alone, Andy, and I always will be from now
on."

"He was good to me, Steve.  Better than a slave has
any right to expect.  But it was different for you,
wasn't it?  You and he.... Well.....  I know when I
lost Joe, how I felt... And I think..."

"Don't say it, Andy...."   I fumbled, and the last
physical traces of Dan blew over the course that had
so shaped our lives.

They found me in my bed the next morning, curled up,
in a foetal position, unable to function.  Andy called
the doctor, who said it was "overwork" and "stress"
and "shock", and gave me pills and stuff.  And for
weeks Andy and Reb ran the business, whilst I sat by
the fire with my memories.

It was Jason who saved me.  On one of their visits he
shooed Shane out of the room, and came and sat by me.
"I can only imagine what you're going through...."

I remained silent.  "If I lost Shane, I'd be like you
are.  And it's worse, infinitely worse, for you, as no
one ever really knew what Dan meant to you, did they?"

"No."

"You and he....  Were close...."

I looked at him.  "There's no one left to hurt now,
with Julie gone.  We weren't just close, we were
lovers.  I've lost...."

"Shhh.... I know, Steve.  And I think Shane does, too,
although we've never discussed it.  But we could tell,
by the way you looked at him, by the way you always
listened to what he said...."

"I loved him, Jason, loved him more than I can say...
I can't get him out of my head...."

"...and you wouldn't want to!  But you've got to find
some way of carrying on living, Steve!  He wouldn't
want you to be this dreadfully unhappy and depressed,
would he?"

"No, of course not.  The doctor wants me to take even
more pills and stuff...."

"...and you don't want to, do you?  That famous
'Steve' thing, always proud of your body, and the way
you could make it do anything you wanted..."

"Jason, sometimes I think you ought to have been a
psychiatrist, rather than a mathematician..."

"Well here's what you do then, Steve.  Write it all
down!  Sit there and write the story of your life with
Dan.  Write about the life you had together.  Write
about the love you had...."

"But we weren't like you and Shane, or Andy and Joe,
or...."

"Love isn't like that, Steve.  It's different for
everyone.  Write it all down, and you'll see.  Write
it all down, and then read it again and treasure those
years.  Write it all down, and you'll begin to get
better."

So I did.

And this is it.

THE END.

Pete Brown.   March to June, 2006.  London, Geneva and
Paris.