Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2005 11:41:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Someone Has To Do It, Part Four

Someone Has To Do It

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part  4

That Andy was pretty smart, actually.  He soon learned
the simple equation connecting unwillingness to obey
orders and likely painful outcome.  And I also think
he was like a lot of blokes - they actually like sex,
but they're sort of afraid, ashamed, worried, scared,
or something, to actually do anything about it.  Once
you've broken a lot of the artificial constraints that
stop a healthy fit young bloke from enjoying  himself,
all of a sudden he finds stuff that he wished he'd
known about before.  I'm not saying that Andy actually
got to like taking cock, but once he'd had his up
young Leigh's bum once or twice, he couldn't get
enough of it.

I did pretty well at training them, therefore, as
Leigh was an enthusiastic kind of kid and he wasn't
old enough to have been corrupted by the "if it isn't
cunt you shouldn't fuck it" myth and he started to
take part really uninhibitedly in the exercises I
devised for them.  In fact I was so pleased with his
progress that on the Thursday night I decided I'd take
him home with me - not for sex, you understand, but
because a lad like that was likely to be employed
primarily as a waiter or valet or cleaner or some
other household job like that (with satisfying his
owner's sexual needs as a secondary thing), and I
thought it might help him if he got in a bit of
practice at general household chores.  Well, my place
was a bit of a pigsty, as I've told you, and it would
be easier for me to use him to clean it up than it
would be to do it myself.

I'd really rather have taken Andy, as we had more in
common, both having been in the forces, and I liked
his body more.  And being that bit older, too, we'd
have something to talk about:  at sixteen, Leigh was
still obsessed with boy bands and the latest
happenings on the pop scene, about which he could
prattle on for hours, and about which neither Andy nor
I knew the first thing!  That is a problem that a lot
of older blokes who buy young servants find, I'd
imagine:  after you've fucked them you do need to talk
about something, and you haven't got a lot in common.
Well, that's what I find, whenever I've just fucked a
really young guy and we're lying there in that
companionable after-sex way when you're really close -
if you've not got a lot in common, something you can
talk about, it all falls rather  flat I find.   Still,
I knew I was unlikely to get permission to take Andy
out as he was still judged as being potentially
capable of running, and my place did need a really
good clean.... So I decided that Leigh would have to
do.

I got the Boss's permission and presented his pass to
Charlie on the gate as I led him out to my car, but as
bad luck would have it just as he was standing there
in his brief slave shorts that fucking Lieutenant
Andrews came out.  He watched as I fumbled with my
keys (the central locking had long since given up the
ghost), and called out "Hey, can't you get enough of
it at work?  You have to take your bum boy home with
you, do you?"

"It's for his training", I countered, and he just
laughed.  "Hasn't he learned how to take your cock
yet?"

I was furious.  I mean, I really did want Leigh to do
the cleaning - it's my job to train these men to take
cock, after all, and I really don't want to do it
outside of work time as I like women, as you know.
Still, it was no use explaining that to that stupid
lieutenant, so I just got in to the car, leaned over
and opened the door for Leigh, and then drove off.
Yes, I know that traditionally indentureds are carried
in the boot, but mine's full of crap like my dirty
running kit from when I last went to the park, and
some empty beer bottles I keep meaning to take to the
recycling place.  Anyway, he's a nice kid and he was
unlikely to try to make a run for it just in those
shorts - still, to be on the safe side and to make
sure he didn't do anything stupid in the traffic jams
that are an almost inevitable feature of my drive
home, I told Leigh to slip his shorts off.

He looked at me almost in amazement, and I had to tell
him again.  "You heard me the first time Leigh.  Now,
be a good boy and do as you're told. There's no law
against a permanent indenture going naked, you know.
And, anyway, you're here in the car with me."

I thought he might cry as he seemed to be so
embarrassed.  He whispered "Please, sir, no... Someone
might see... I used to live around here.... The guys
from school.... Even my mum...."

"Leigh, let me tell you something.  Firstly, you've
got a nice cock, a good set of balls, and a pleasing
body.  So you've got absolutely nothing to be ashamed
of - believe me, I've seen enough naked blokes to
know!  So if any of your old school friends see you,
it doesn't matter - they're in for a bit of a treat,
actually.  And secondly, I know it sounds hard, but
you've no longer got a mom!  All that family stuff is
null and void when you get a lifetime indenture.  Now,
do as you're told - I don't want to have to stop the
car, put you over the bonnet, and spank you."

Flushing with embarrassment he arched his body upwards
and pulled his shorts down from under his bum, then
pushed them down his legs and sat there, naked.  I
laughed then at what I assumed to be his reluctance to
strip - he was like a lot of blokes, and the moment
they start to go somewhere in a car they get hard.
Reaching over I grasped his erect cock and shook it a
bit, adding "You're really funny, Leigh, you know
that, do you?  I've seen this often enough this week
that you oughtn't to be embarrassed about it!"

He didn't say much as we drove along, but when we got
to my place he almost begged me to be allowed to put
his shorts back on before we walked from the car park
to the front door.  And once he was inside, I saw him
looking in dismay at the empty bottle, unwashed
plates, and general chaos that,  I admit, did look
pretty grim.  I told him to make a start on clearing
it up, though, and to fetch me a beer.  I slipped a
porno in the DVD player and I have to say I was a bit
surprised - it was somehow much more erotic to watch
the DVD with nearly naked Leigh going around clearing
up, then doing washing up and the dusting.  The kid
didn't have much experience with ironing, though, as
he said his mother used to do his, so I think I did
some good as he made a right mess of my jeans at
first, until I gave him a couple of slaps on the bum
and told him to do it again - some blokes wouldn't be
so considerate, and an owner might have punished him a
lot more.  Mind you, I can see why those who can
afford indentured servants have them:  after about
three hours my place really did look different, and
he'd even done things like remaking the bed after the
sheets had been in the washing machine!

He was sweating a lot and looked generally a bit grimy
from his efforts though, so I told him to take a bath.
 He shut the bathroom door at first!  Well, you can't
have that, can you?  I mean, not only was it just
conceivable that he might be trying to escape through
the window, but more importantly an indentured has no
business being concerned about his modesty like that.
I went in therefore and stood and hosed a big stream
of piss down the lavatory as he sat in the bath
watching me, then just to show him there was nothing
to be ashamed of or embarrassed about, I slowly and
deliberately slipped off my own clothes and climbed
into the bath with him.  It was a tight fit, as I'm a
big bloke, and at first he thought he was supposed to
get out, but I pulled him down and sat him in-between
my legs, and it was kind of interesting to have his
fresh young back in front of me, and I enjoyed soaping
it, and then reaching around and soaping his chest and
belly - and, as you might expect, I couldn't resist
just having a little play with his nips.

I told him to get out then, though, but said he was to
kneel by the side of the bath so he could wash my back
for me, and then I half lay down so that my belly and
cock were above the surface, and told him to wash me
there, too.  He was kind of scared at first about
'skinning me back to wash my cock properly, but I soon
found myself having an erection, and then he did seem
to find it easier.  And there's another reason why you
should get an indentured if you haven't already done
so, too:  there's something really nice about having
another bloke dry you as you just stand there - it's
so much easier than having to reach all around
yourself to dry everywhere, to have someone like Leigh
do it.

To tell you the truth I hadn't thought where he was
going to sleep, and my old settee isn't all that
comfortable and it didn't seem fair to inflict it on
him.  So once I was dry and in bed, and he was
standing there looking  as if he ought to ask what to
do,  I pulled the covers back and said "Hop in here,
then."

I'm a hairy bloke as I think I've told you, but young
Leigh wasn't, and his skin was soft.  He lay there on
the edge of the bed at first until I reached out and
put my arm around him and pulled him close, and then
it was almost like being in bed with a bird,
especially when he kind of snuggled up close to me...
Well, except, of course, that when I reached over and
ran my hand down his belly I found a cock, rather than
a cunt!  Still, my own cock was hard now and I
wondered whether just to wank myself as usual, or to
have Leigh do it, or perhaps even suck me off.  But as
I lay there and my cock started pushing at his smooth
young bum, I thought "why not?"  As I've said, it was
a bit like "bringing work home with me", but I did
need sex or else I'd never get to sleep, and his bum
was very enticing.

I fucked him in a way I'd not done before, with him
lying absolutely flat on the bed, face down.  I knelt
straddling his thighs then prised his bum apart and
entered him slowly and gently.  It's really nice to
fuck a slim young guy this way, as I'm sure those of
you who have done it will agree, as your legs are not
stretched too far apart as they would be with a beefy
bloke, and you can lean right forward to kiss or
nuzzle his ears and neck, or stroke all along the
length of his back - it's kind of sensual, I think.
Mind you it's not all that comfortable for the guy
taking the cock, as the angle's a bit wrong as his bum
isn't in the air, and you do get a lot of stretching
of him as you go in.  Leigh was moaning and even
whimpering occasionally, even though I fucked him
really gently, as this position does encourage a lot
of short, little strokes, I find.

It was really nice to sleep with my arms wrapped
around someone again, even though Leigh's sleep was a
bit disturbed and he occasionally called out in the
night, as if he was having a bad dream.  And at about
two o'clock when he woke me with one of these random
noises, I found it hard to get to sleep again.  I
turned him around in my arms so he was facing me and
began to play with his body gently, just to amuse
myself, really, scratching his nips, tickling that
lovely sensitive area right behind his balls, kissing
the tip of his nose... All the stuff you can do in bed
with another person.  He was still asleep, but his
body reacted by giving him an erection, making him
almost cling to me as his arms wrapped around my neck,
and sighing gently as my hands ran over him.   I felt
so comfortable with him in my arms like that, seeing
him so obviously relaxed, that I decided not to fuck
him again, but instead kissed him a bit harder, on the
mouth this time, until he half woke up;  and then I
guided his hands down to my own erect cock and got him
to wank me as I lay there in the warmth and comfort of
the bed.

I was really sad to have to take him back to the
training school the next day, actually.  It was so
much more convenient to have a young bloke like that
around to clean the place and keep it neat, and to go
to bed with - I mean, no need for all that picking up
women in bars, trying to get them to come back with
you, then all the stuff about are you satisfying
them... Let alone persuading them to clean the place,
change the sheets, and all that stuff.  As I drove in
through the traffic with Leigh beside me I wished I
had a few tens of thousands of pounds to spare to buy
a lad like him - it would make my life a whole lot
easier and more enjoyable, I can tell you. But of
course as it was I didn't even have a few tens of
pounds spare!

I'd basically finished with Andy and Leigh that day,
and as it was Friday and the end of the month, pay
day, I persuaded Rob to have a quick drink with me
after work.  "Only one though, Steve", he said.
"We're off on holiday tomorrow.  Or, rather, Julie's
off to a conference in Cyprus, and she's told me I'm
to go as well, as we're taking the kids too - all the
hotel and everything will be classed as a business
expense for her, against tax, and she only has to
spend about an hour a day actually at the meetings and
the rest of the time we'll go in the pool, or hit the
beaches.  Lanzerote's really good at this time of
year, warm and sunny, and without most of the crowds."


I felt really jealous of him as I hadn't been abroad
since I left the marines as I couldn't afford it, but
still, that's Rob for you.  I did wonder, though, what
it would be like to be kind of "kept" as he was by
Julie.  I wasn't sure a man would really feel like a
man with his wife making all the decisions, and
earning big money.  Still, we've been mates for a long
time, so I wished him well - I knew that when Rob said
"one drink" that's what it would be, as Julie liked
him to be home on time.

If only I'd left the bar then life would have been
very different.  But as I was finishing another pint
and watching the news on the TV above the bar, that
fucking lieutenant and some of his squad came in.
They must have been celebrating something or other, as
you don't usually get officers and men drinking
together, do you?  But perhaps it's different when
they're being hired out as security for what is
effectively a private establishment.  I wished  I'd
changed out of my uniform, as I usually did before
going home, as then they might not have seen me.  No
such luck, though, and soon I heard quiet
conversation, followed by bursts of loud laughter, and
as I looked across, I could see that they were talking
about me, and then all laughing.

I should have let it go.  They were just a lot of
ignorant squaddies.  I should have got up and walked
out.  But I'm not like that, so I went over, and said
"Is there something funny, then?"

One of them tried to cool it, as he could probably see
that I was clenching and unclenching my fists in the
classic preparation for a fight, and said "OK, mate,
no harm done...." but the lieutenant leant over and
said something to the others, and they all burst out
laughing again.

"Look, what's so fucking funny?"  My voice was rising
now, as I was getting  really angry.

"Oh, Steve", the lieutenant said, "I was just telling
my men here about how you took that little bum boy
home with you..."

"I was training him...."

"I bet!", one of the others shouted out, and they all
fell about laughing again.

"Look", I protested, my voice shouting now. "We all
work at the training centre.  You guard them, I train
them... "

"Yes, Steve, I bet you really do train them!  Train
them like that bum boy you had all week..."

"They're lifetime indentures... Someone's got to do
it!", I countered.

"Yes, but they don't have to enjoy it!", the
lieutenant countered, and all his squad fell about
laughing.  And that's when I hit him.  And hit him
again.  And the last thing I remember is the boots of
the squaddies starting to land on me as they all piled
in.

I got home somehow, and they'd been clever - well, in
the army you get to know how to scrap in pubs, don't
you?  So no broken ribs or anything, but a hell of a
lot of bruises.  And my face was messed up a fair bit
- a lot of bruising, a cut over my eye, a thick lip.
I took some aspirin and went to bed, groaning softly,
and the next morning when I had to get up to go in to
work as I was working the weekend shift,  I could
barely get out of bed without wincing.  But I made it
- I guess it comes from the marines training, when you
never miss going on duty promptly.

I might as well not have bothered, though.  As soon as
I arrived Charlie on the gate said the Boss wanted to
see me, and the moment I went into his office he told
me I was fired!  That fucking lieutenant had phoned
him and told him I'd been brawling in the pub, and he
took one look at me and cold tell it was true.  "And,
Steve, I won't have the reputation of the centre
ruined when staff start fighting in the local
hostelries!  Especially not when they're in uniform,
as you were last night."

I tried to argue.  I tried to say I had rights, and
that he couldn't just sack me like that, but he
pointed out that in my employment contract it said
that behaviour likely to bring the centre into
disrepute was an instantly dismissable offence.  And
that was that.   I knew I was in deep shit then, as I
was already broke and my wages were all spoken for as
soon as I earned them - now what?  My first thought
was to phone Rob and ask for a loan, but he was off on
that fucking holiday.  Then I went and tried to get a
job - anything - but the Job Centre was closed until
Monday.

By Wednesday I still didn't have a job - there was
just absolutely nothing. Zilch.  No work at all,
without a degree.  And the bad news spread - the
centre paid in a day's wages, and the bank wondered
why it wasn't a full week, then asked the centre who
said I was fired, and so the bank worried about the
tiny overdraft I had, and froze my account.  So my
credit card payment wasn't made, so they turned it
off, and posted new information to the central credit
agency's files.   That made the sky fall in - the
collectors came and repossessed my car as they knew I
couldn't make the next payment, and when my landlord
saw them doing that, he changed the locks on my place,
having stacked all my stuff outside the door.

With no money and nowhere to go, I tried to sleep in
the train station - but was turned out when the
service stopped at one in the morning -  and then I
walked the streets until a cruising police car saw me,
and asked me for ID.  That was it, of course - they
checked with the police national computer from the
car, and it knew I was penniless (it linked to the
central credit agency), and that I was homeless (the
landlord had posted a notice to the national identity
card centre, as he was required to do, saying a tenant
had moved out).   So they said I was a homeless
vagrant, which I suppose I was, and arrested me.
Still, at least the cell was warm, and dry, and they
gave me a good breakfast, and I was allowed to shower.


I was kept in the cell all Sunday as there was no
point in releasing a homeless vagrant on to the
streets, I was told, and they said I'd be taken before
the magistrates on Monday morning.  The duty solicitor
saw me late Sunday night but she wasn't hopeful.  She
listened, took down all the details, but then said
"Well, Mr Masters, I'm afraid the best you can hope
for is two years indentured service.  The courts are
very intolerant of the unemployed homeless these
days."

"Yes, but I'm desperate for a job..."

"But you have no qualifications.  At least in
indentured service you'll have somewhere to live, and
something to eat... My advice would be to make the
best of it, and try to study.  Do an open University
degree in the evenings, or something."

"But it's unfair..."

"No, Mr Masters, it's the law.  Now my advice to you
would be to just sit quietly, and take the sentence
they hand down and then try to make something of
yourself.... You're only thirty three, and if you work
at it, you could have some sort of qualification  in
two years - not a degree, of course, but perhaps you
might be able to demonstrate to a prospective employer
that you've worked and earned some credits towards a
degree..."

My temper got the better of me, unfortunately.  When
the magistrate started spouting on about able-bodied
young men who would rather roam the streets than work,
I shouted at her and told her the real truth..... So
she handed me five years of indentured service, rather
than the two I'd been led to expect!   Well that
really got me going, and the two policemen in court
came and grabbed me and cuffed me.  I was being led
out of the court when the prosecuting solicitor said
"If it please the court....."

"Yes, Miss Rathbone?"

"Ma'am, I think we have just seen a terrible scene
here.  The defendant, Steven Masters, is clearly not
going to make a good indentured servant.  My concern
is that in five years time we could all be here again,
needing to make a further order for indenture.
Clearly he has a temper, and is unlikely to settle to
proper work as an indentured servant in a factory or
something.  All I can see is a succession of orders
like this one, until he is too old and feeble to
continue working."

"Quite.  And your point is, Miss Rathbone?"

"It would be in the defendant's best interests, ma'am,
to find a proper solution to his problems.  A series
of indenture orders would not serve him well, or
society.  We would waste time and money, and the
defendant would never settle properly.  We should
devise a proper solution now, in the best long term
interests of the defendant and society.  Knowing his
long-term future, the defendant would be more likely
to perform properly, and become a useful member of
society once more."

"You may be right, Miss Rathbone.  Does the
defendant's solicitor wish to say anything?"

"I had talked to Mr Masters, ma'am, about the
possibility of him doing part time Open University
courses, to get qualifications, so he'd be fit for a
job...."

"...but as we've seen, the defendant has a short
temper, and I doubt he would have the patience to
continue", the other cow cut in.

"Quite so."  The court fell silent as the magistrate
spoke, then she addressed my solicitor again.  "I'm
minded to make the indenture permanent, so resolving
this unhappy man's future once and for all."

"No!", I screamed at the top of my voice, and the
magistrate at once gestured to the two policemen who
grabbed my cuffed wrists, then one of them wrapped an
arm around my neck and held me tight as the other
forced a ball gag into my mouth and fastened the
straps behind my head.

My solicitor protested, saying that I had a right to
be heard, but the magistrate cut in "Indeed he does
not!  I listened to him before, when he was a free
man, when he had a right to be heard.  But then he was
indentured, for five years.  So he is now an
indentured servant, and an indentured servant has no
right to address the court!"

The magistrate addressed the court generally  then.
"The further outburst from the indentured servant
Steven Masters suggests that he is temperamentally
unsuitable for short term work assignments.  I am
therefore ordering him to be permanently indentured,
in the hope that he will be bought by a strong master
who will give him the necessary training and self
discipline so that he can lead along and productive
life for his greater good, and that of society as a
whole."  She banged her gavel, looked at the two
policemen, and said "Take him down!".

Underneath the court they stripped me.  They didn't
want to release me from the cuffs as they could see I
was strong and thought I might get violent, so they
simply used scissors and a knife to cut all my clothes
off me.  They were laughing as they did this, saying
how much better it was a couple of years before,
before they "reformed" the court process, when I'd
have been stripped in the court itself and made to
walk around naked to show the world my new status.
They poked and prodded at me a bit, and one of the two
policemen even went so far as to 'skin me back, saying
how much he wished he could afford the price I'd
undoubtedly fetch, as I'd got just the sort of good
solid cock he liked to see in an indentured.  Then
they pushed me into an empty cell, still cuffed,
gagged and naked, and left me.

Two more blokes were sentenced to lifetime indenture
as the day wore on, and one woman - we were all naked
in the same cell, although only I was cuffed and
gagged as, apparently, the others hadn't been
"disruptive".   It was a fucking disgrace - I mean,
it's bad enough them holding you naked at all, but
when you're in a tiny cell with other blokes and a
woman.... Well, it's not right, is it?  And when I
needed to piss I just had to do it there in the
lavatory in the corner, in front of all of them - and
there was no way I could express the last drops of
piss out of my cock, and so I dripped a bit on the
floor, and I knew that it would be building up under
my 'skin and would start to smell foul soon.  Look, I
know I've told you I'm proud of my body, and I've got
nothing to be ashamed of, but it's different when
you're there, stark naked next to a woman with two
other blokes too, and you're dripping piss onto the
floor in front of all of them - I felt just so
humiliated, like nothing else I'd ever experienced
before.

There must have been some sort of system in place as
at about five o'clock a transporter - yes, that is
what it was...  not a minibus, as you might take
employees to work in, but a transporter - arrived.  It
was one of those large Transit vans, and we were taken
out individually and put into tiny cages inside it -
just big enough so that when the gate was locked you
had some room to move, but not enough so that you
could sit down or anything.  You just had to stand
there as the thing lurched along, and I realised soon
that we must be going around the M25 as it was snarled
up as it always is in rush hour, and from outside our
van all you could hear were the rumble of the engines
of lorries and stuff, as we inched along.  We stopped
a couple of times to unload the others - as I said,
there evidently was some system, but fuck knows what
it was - until I was the only one left.  Then, when we
finally stopped again and the doors were opened and my
cage unlocked, I was pulled out - to find myself in
the yard of the training centre where I'd just been
fired as a trainer!

In the cage where they locked all the new arrivals
there were nine of us that night, all naked, all
worried sick about what was going to happen - well,
all except for one of them, as I knew what was going
to happen!  Still at least they took the gag out of me
and uncuffed me, so it wasn't quite so bad:  one of
the other blokes was stupid enough to try to break
away early on, and after the guards had demonstrated
the effect of the prod on him, we were all very
subdued and obedient.

The next morning it all began, of course:  the
cropping of the hair, the shaving of our balls and
trimming of our pubes, then the marking of our skins
with our SINs, and finally, we were all lined up
outside those double doors with which I was so
familiar.  I knew it was inevitable, I knew there was
nothing I could do about it, so what was the point in
postponing it?  I managed to get to the head of the
line, so was the first in to be strapped down and have
that terrible "I" seared into the skin of my bum.  And
yes, I did scream.  I screamed until I thought my
voice was going to give out, I was so hoarse - and you
would, too, as it's a pain so terrible, a pain
absolutely like no other that you've ever experienced.
 I knew of course why they did it this way - it did
really bring home to me that I was something different
now, and those few minutes, before the needle they
plunged into my bum made it numb told me that my life
had changed for ever.  A society that could inflict
such terrible suffering on a man would be relentless
in ensuring that he performed properly, and as well as
being marked permanently externally, I knew that I was
marked internally, too.

Shorn, inked, branded, and naked, all nine of us were
lined up to hear the Boss's little lecture about how
we were not here to be punished, but to be trained -
trained as good, obedient permanent indentured
servants.  Somehow I'd never felt so naked before -
I'd caught sight of myself in a mirror after all this,
and I was astonished at how different I looked with my
cock now standing out from it's tiny patch of
thinned-out short hair, and the ugly red of the "I"
defacing my bum.  The other eight were then assigned
to one of my former colleagues for their two weeks of
training and he marched them off, but I was left
standing there.  The Boss came over, and looked me up
and down.

"Well, Steve, you do look just a little different!
There's no point in us sending you for the physical
training as you've always looked after your body, and,
in any case, there's an auction later in the week and
as always they're crying out for permanent indentures
for it.  So I think all I need to schedule you for is
the sex education.  Now ever since you were with us
before you were always going on about your girlfriends
and other women, so I think we can assume you don't
need anything on that score - anyway, as you probably
know, women owners tend not to buy big men like you as
they're always worried about you hurting them; so even
if you're not completely au fait with all the
techniques of pleasing a lady, we'll give it a miss in
the interests of time.  And we know, of course, that
you really do know how to use that cock of yours, as
you were one of our better trainers.  But how are you
for taking cock, Steve?  How do you take a good
fucking from a man?"

My blood ran cold and I cold feel myself breaking out
into a light sweat as I muttered "Oh, about the
same... Give and take.... You know...."  I hoped that
would be enough to avoid the training, as in truth I
was still, I suppose, a virgin!  I don't mind giving
cock to another bloke, but no way had one of them ever
been allowed up my arse.

The Boss ran his finger lightly over my pecs and down
my belly.  "You're sweating, Steve.  And it's not hot
in here - we keep it on the cool side, to encourage a
lot of physical activity, as you know....  So why are
you sweating, Steve?"

He smiled, a tiny, tight, cruel smile.  "Bend over,
please, and reach back and spread your cheeks...."

"Sir, please, no...."

"Steve, 'no' is not a word I like to hear form an
indentured servant, you know that.  Now do as I say,
or else you'll be on the receiving end of a prod."

I did as I was told, feeling kind of shaky, and
jittery, especially when I heard that characteristic
"snap" as a vinyl glove is pulled on over the fingers.
 The Boss "steadied" me with one hand at the base of
my spine as I stood there bent double, and I felt the
rough, almost abrasive latex sliding down my ass as
his other hand probed for my hole.  I gave a little
grunt as it traced a pattern over my pucker, then
another, as the Boss started to wiggle his finger to
try to get into me.  He gave up after a minute or so,
and told me I could stand upright again.

My cheeks were burning a bright red at the indignity
I'd just suffered, but the Boss had that little evil
smile on his face again.  "Well, well, Steve - who'd
have thought it!  I'd judge from the tightness up
there that it's a long time since there was a cock
enjoying that arse of yours.  Am I right?"

"Yes, sir", I muttered, my voice very low.

"How long exactly, Steve?"

I really a flushing with embarrassment now, as I
managed to squeak "Never, sir.  But please don't make
me do that training, sir.... I can be a good
indentured servant, and maybe a master or mistress
will buy my contract as they want a good cocksman,
sir.... Please, sir, don't make me take cock...."

He patted me almost affectionately on my naked bum,
and gave a little laugh.  Well, I'm glad he thought it
was a laughing matter, as I certainly didn't. "Oh
Steve, you are silly.  Of course we can't miss out
that part of your training.  We pride ourselves on
turning out from here indentured servants who are
fully accomplished sexually - and a servant who
doesn't  take his master's cock if his master wants
him to is hardly that, is he?  No, I won't hear of it
- even if there was a master who didn't want to fuck
you even occasionally, what about his guests, visitors
to his home, his sons, nephews....  Our reputation as
trainers would be ruined if it got around that a prime
product of this centre didn't want to service his
master's needs."

He turned to the guards, and said "Take him down to
the small training room, and shackle him to the wall,
and I'll send someone down to take care of him."

They did at least let me pull on a pair of slave
shorts so I was spared walking through all the
corridor and staircases, those familiar places where
I'd spent the last year working, totally naked.  But
as you know, the thin training shorts really give no
real protection and they're more of a "psychological"
thing, designed to make the new servant feel that his
life has changed.  Certainly the odious Lieutenant
Andrews who we passed in the corridor thought it was
hilarious to see my cock and balls outlined through
the thin, almost transparent fabric.

End Of Part Four