Date: Tue, 31 Jan 2012 12:26:41 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Buys A Slave, Part Seventeen

STEVE BUYS A SLAVE
A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk@yahoo.com)

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

PART SEVENTEEN

Greg sat there looking expectantly at me after Reb had left, waiting for
orders.  "I'll want you to carry on getting into good running order", I
told him. "Spend a lot of time on the running machines in the gym."

"Yes, master" he said eagerly, and sprang to his feet.

"But first, come with me...."

I had thought of taking him up to my bedroom, but that somehow seemed very
personal.  So instead I went into the den, with Greg following me.  I shut
the door behind us, then said gently to him that he should stand there as I
wanted to have a further inspection of his body.  He put his hands behind
his head and looked respectfully downwards, but I reached out and moved his
arms , indicating that they could hang loosely at his sides, and again used
a finger under his chin to raise his eyes so he was looking at me.

I moved closed to him, remembering how amazingly sexy I had found it to
have a clothed male brush his clothes against my own bare skin, then
reached down and cupped his balls in my hand.  I 'teased' his balls around
in their sac as if I was really inspecting him, and as I did I could hear
his breathing quicken and get more shallow.  I moved a little, put my other
hand on that lovely flat part of his back just above where his bubble butt
began to flare out to provide that important 'psychological' restraint, and
then started to stroke his dick.  As I've noted, although Greg's dick was
actually smaller than mine or Jake's or Reb's, as it was balanced on top of
his sac and didn't hang down and was well proportioned with the rest of his
slighter body, it looked good. But then once he'd started to go erect there
was not a lot of difference in size at all that I could detect, and my
fingers revelled in the way the warm, silky smoothness of his skin covered
a
 ram-rod hard interior just like the others.  It was a pity he'd been
'skinned as it would have been exciting to have been able to reveal his
dick head, but I suppose he was a slave and that's what you expect. In
these slim 'swimmers' with very young-looking bodies I'd noticed how the
constantly exposed head somehow complemented the whole 'look' of him and
perhaps all guys whose dicks ride high like that should be done.

It was hard to resist not plunging my mouth down to nibble at his nips -
although not as large as Reb's and set in such smaller, less dark aureoles,
they were still inviting.  But I did flick at them playfully with a finger,
and Greg started to moan softly and try to move backwards out of my reach,
pushing his back gently against my restraining hand.

I moved my hand down again, resting it on the flat plane of his belly and
teasing his navel with the tip of my little finger.  He was really writhing
and moving now. There's always that amazing sensation when something's
pushed into your belly button, isn't there - I know how it feels, and was
'testing' Greg in a way as he squirmed under my probing.  His movements
were not so hard that he broke away from me (although he could have as
although smaller than me he was extremely strong from his work) but almost
as if he was not enjoying it, or enjoying it and was unable to control
himself, or perhaps he wanted to show that he was good and obedient whilst
really wanting desperately to be rid of the unwelcome 'invader'.

"Did you and Reb jerk off last night?" I asked him.  It is after all
perfectly reasonable for an owner to enquire about the actions of his
slaves.

He was hesitant.  "Yes, master."

I knew they'd done much more than that, of course, so I was interested in
his seeming reticence.  "There's nothing to be ashamed of - and you must
tell me if Reb forced you, if he was rough, if he made you do things with
his dick..."

"I'm not ashamed, master.  During pony training I was taught to use my body
and that it was right for a slave to keep himself in good condition...  We
learned how to please ladies and gentlemen, as we were told some owners
liked a 'fancy' to do more than simply pull their traps."

"So why are you nervous, Greg?"

"In case you punish me, master.  And Reb.  My last owner said that I was
never to touch my dick as he wanted my entire focus to be on my work and
that sex was distracting for a young guy like me.  And I expect you'd
punish Reb as he should be saving himself for you, master..."

He was right there, I thought.  "So you and Reb simply jerked each other
off?  Or did he force you to suck his dick?  Reb doesn't like sex with men,
so I suppose that's all you did."

"No, master.  I've been well trained in pleasing ladies and gentlemen, and
after a few minutes it was as if Reb had been through the same training as
we were able to pleasure each other in many ways..."

Now I had it. Not being able to listen to the sound it could have been
possible that Greg and Reb had been up to those antics kind of
half-heartedly, or with some sort of coercion.  But Reb had enjoyed it, and
by the sound of it had participated as enthusiastically as Greg had.
Surely it couldn't be that he had been 'trained' for pleasure?  No, more
likely he got practical experience from the women he'd fucked.  But what
bout men?

"I'm interested in this training you've had, Greg.  I think perhaps I'll
spend half an hour and you can show me some of the things you were
taught...."

I suspect Greg knew it was a lie, that all I really wanted was sex with
him, but perhaps it was part of the training to go along with what the
other guy was saying and doing, because as soon as I moved to take my shirt
off, he was on me!  It took a lot longer than half an hour, too - I was
soon totally naked, like Greg, and our bodies were rolling around on the
soft carpet of the den.  And Greg seemed to know a lot about how to
position yourself on couches, and half-on couches, to get the maximum
possible amount of a dick up an ass!

Look, I'm inexperienced, I know.  Sure I'd raped Reb and I'd had some great
sex with Jake, but they were both older than me and both knew a hell of a
lot more than I did about it, and I had been somehow kind of inhibited when
I was with them.  It was as if some part of me was constantly on watch,
constantly monitoring what I was doing, as I was afraid - or ashamed - of
not doing the right thing: I'd never fully relaxed.  It could be that
Greg's whole approach to sex was a lot more enthusiastic and uninhibited
that Reb or Jake, or it could be that his much smaller, more lithe body
made it easier for him to perform astonishing acrobatic feats, or it could
be that as he was younger than me I felt I needed to be more in control and
therefore less worried about what was being done - in any event it was
pretty amazing sex.  And afterwards as we lay together on the couch, our
bodies intertwined, I was surprised to find that there was no smell of shit
and no
 unpleasant ass juices on my dick.

Greg saw me fingering my dick and at once wriggled out of my arms to get
down and begin licking at me.  I pulled him away, and he muttered "No,
master, it's OK - we were taught to clean our masters - or mistresses -
afterwards...."

"Always?"

"Always, master.  That's why every time I shower I clean my ass out,
master...." He smiled at me as he said this, then quick as a flash had
thrown himself alongside me again and was kissing me, his tongue darting in
and out like a snake's.  That analytic part of me that never quite stops
planning made a note to tell Reb that in future that was what he should do
- I was going to fuck him a lot, and it would be so much better if he was
properly cleaned out.  Then I wondered about Jake - we had, after all,
fucked each other.  Was he expecting me to do the same?  I started to worry
gain that I might not have done the right thing, and my mood of abandoned
happiness started to dissipate.

Afterwards I took Greg in the car into town to a dealer in slave
accessories.  I'd done a bit of research on the 'net and he seemed to be
the place, if anywhere, that we might find a suitable trap for Greg.  I
could have ordered a new one of course, but given Jake's sensitivity to me
spending my money, I thought it would be a good idea to buy second hand.
All the traps were in a yard outside, neatly lined up, and it was perfectly
apparent that most of them were unsuitable as they were simply out of scale
for a 'fancy' to pull.  That didn't stop the dealer trying to convince me,
though, that 'this season' it was all the rage to have oversize traps!  I
had anyway taken an instant dislike to the man's ingratiating oiliness, and
the more he made evidently untrue statements about how even weaker ponies
could pull some of the monstrous things, the more angry I became.  Finally,
tucked away at the back there was a trap that seemed to be appropriate -
the right scale for Greg, and a good simple style that would not detract
from the neat simplicity of Greg's body and would naturally shift focus on
to him.  It had a neat plain seat in red hide, was made of stainless steel,
and the wheels were large whilst still in proportion to the whole - I'd
read somewhere that traps should have good big wheels as without a lot
 of complex springing and suspension, they did serve to eliminate a lot of
the jarring from the highway.

Greg seemed excited by it, and was running his hands all over it,
inspecting it.  The dealer was telling me that it was quite unsuitable for
a young gentleman like me who needed something more 'showy', more 'in' with
fashion.  "Nonsense", I told him.  "The most important thing is to match
the trap with the capability of the pony so you get optimum performance.
As you can see, my pony is slight, though muscular, and it requires only a
light trap like this if he is to perform at his maximum advantage."

"But it is so unfashionable, so unpopular, sir...."

"So therefore you should be keen to sell it, keen to get it out of your
stock as no doubt it has been languishing here a long time.  I therefore
expect to pay a really low price..."

I was amused to see ow the salesman's patter changed when he realised I
knew something about buying and the art of negotiation.  And of course I
didn't fall for his "I'd like to do it at a better price but the manager
won't let me..." trick, and stalked off towards the manager's office,
saying that I would deal with the grinder, rather than the monkey.

I'd never driven a trap myself, and never given any of them all that much
thought, actually.  When I'd seen them in the streets I'd noticed that most
of them were pulled by the pony or ponies holding onto the shafts, although
some had a kind of 'cross member' at the front against which the pony could
push.  I was therefore surprised when Greg pointed out that I also needed
to buy a belly strap, so we needed to go back into the showroom and select
one - he explained courteously (although rather as if he was having to tell
a kid the obvious!) That fancies generally had a belly strap to transfer
their power to the shafts, as this then left their hands and arms free.

"For the movements, master!"  He said this as if it was blindingly obvious,
but then seeing me looking puzzled added "Most owners like to have a fancy
set a good pace, and then to 'piston' the arms as you would if you were at
an athletics meeting.  It adds some excitement to it, they say, as owners
can think about their time at school and college when they might have been
running in a race.  Although my lady owner did not want that as she said it
was unnecessary: she preferred me to run with my hands clasped behind my
neck, and that's not good, I can tell you."  Seeing my quizzical look he
added "...it's not a very natural running position, as it tends to make you
stick your chest out and thrust your hips forwards instead of being able to
hunker down for real speed - although it does make the whole of the front
of your body very visible, very much on display."

Greg also seemed surprised when we walked past a display of carriage whips
- not the full whip designed to punish, but the long semi-rigid cane with a
neat little strip of leather at the end, designed to 'encourage' a pony who
is holding back.  Nervously he pointed out that the trap did not come with
one, although there was of course an integral holster for it at the side of
the seat.

"I don't think we need bother with that, Greg - I'm sure you're going to
work hard."

"But master what will other drivers think of you?  All drivers like to show
they have mastery of the carriage whip, surely?  And it's fashionable -
these are very much the current season's design, master: regardless about
what the salesman said about the design of the trap, you have a 'classic'
there, and all you need to make it really 'now' is a current season whip."

Well I had to buy one then, didn't I?  Especially as Greg explained that
event though he would work to his utmost, there were occasions where a
light 'tingle' with a carriage whip was a real help to him.  "I'm sorry,
master", he's said "But sometimes I'm just so totally exhausted it's hard
to find the extra effort to tackle a hill without slowing.  A small
'reminder' giving me a proper 'sting' on the butt really helps me."

I hadn't thought of it that way - I'd always assumed you whipped a pony to
make him go faster or to discipline him.  But that it might help him was
odd - was Greg really telling the truth, or had his 'training' been so good
that this is what he really believed?

As we were about to check out I noticed the slave wear section, and to my
amazement they had some of the same dark grey uniform shirts that Jake wore
to work at S & D - I commented about this to the slave who had rushed up to
help me, and he said that it was probably because some owners liked to
pamper their slaves and make a show by having them in neat, high-quality
uniforms when serving around the home.  It seemed a good idea to buy some,
though, as then Jake wouldn't have any excuse for not staying - especially
when I noticed they had a huge variety of plain white Ts: not just the
white heavy cotton ones Jake wore, but also more exotic wear: I finally
settled on some which were suitably opaque (many seemed designed to reveal
a lot of the slave's body, which I suppose is understandable) but which
were made of some sort of stretchy material, and the slave obligingly
demonstrated by pulling on one of the samples - his nips were nicely
indicated through
 the elastic material, and I looked forward to Jake dressing the following
morning and seeing how his prominent nips and aureoles looked in it.  They
had matching briefs, too - not as good as the A & F ones of course - and I
was going to buy some of these as I'd like to see how they moulded
themselves to Jake's dick, but then thought better of it: Jake would have
no clean stuff tomorrow, and so he could wear some of mine.  He didn't like
boxer shorts, but as you know, I do, and the sooner Jake got to share my
tastes the better - for one thing when we were undressing it's a lot more
fun to be able to get your hand in through the fly of your partner's
boxers, isn't it?

There were some raised eyebrows in the streets, I think, when Greg pulled
the trap home without a driver - I needed to take the car back, of course.
But I deliberately went extremely slowly, just behind or parallel to Greg,
so I could relish the sight of this fantastic body performing as it should.
We went up the drive as we got home, and I was gratified to see Reb working
on the lawns at the front - he'd been harnessed to pull one of the big
multi-gang mowers, and the contrast between his big, heavily-muscled body
and Greg's light, elegant one, both 'pulling', added to the erotic pleasure
of both.

I wondered whether to take Greg and the trap in to town to collect Jake
after his shift, but then thought that it might be a bit unfair on Greg to
have to pull both of us back to the house, and I remembered what he'd said
about some owners overworking fancies - although I have to admit the real
reason was that I didn't know what I'd say if any of my buddies had seen me
seated alongside Jake in his work uniform.

So I took the car, and when we got back to the house and I had Greg parade
for Jake, who could only say "How much was the trap..?"

"It's OK, it's a gift...!

"No, Steve!  That's expensive.  I can't take stuff like that from you.  It
will have to go back, as I can't afford it."

"Well Greg tells me ponies sell better if they're shown 'in harness', so to
speak - people want to test drive them.  You'll get a better price for
him."

"If I decide to sell, that is."

"What do you mean?"

"Steve, it's wrong for a kid like Greg - a nice, intelligent kid - to be a
slave.  I can't free him, as once a slave always a slave, but I'm thinking
I'll complete the 'rescue' of him by getting him into a co-op."

"You can't afford that, Jake.  You're gong to have to sell him - but we can
make sure he has a good owner, of course.  But I tell you what - we could
have 'shares' in him and the trap: sell them together, then split the
profit - assuming there is any - in the ratio of our investments."  I was
pleased with this idea, as now Jake and me would have a shared business
interest.

Jake agreed, and shortly after Reb came in as the contractors had finished
for the day and the slaves had been packed into their transporter and taken
back to barracks.  He's stopped to shower, I noticed, and looked very
agreeable - he'd pulled on the shirt I'd given him with the arm torn off so
we could all see his brand - it still gave me a thrill to think that I'd
ordered that to be done to him, that I'd marked him indelibly as my
property- and a pair of workout shorts, but, interestingly, he'd kept his
feet bare.  He looked great - the hard work all day had left his muscles
pumped and his still-damp hair added that additional touch of sexiness.

I supposed we'd have another barbecue, but when I told Reb to go and get it
ready he responded by saying that he'd found a lot of stuff in the freezer
apparently left ready by Mrs Williams, so we could have something else if
we wanted to.  Actually I liked the idea of a barbecue as I'd found the
experience the previous night kind of rugged and masculine and it had
helped me bond with Jake, but before I could say anything Jake had asked
what there was, and on being told there was all sorts of stuff, he went off
to investigate with Reb, and when he came back told me that it was ages
since he'd had 'proper home-cooked food' and it would be a real treat, that
seemed to be it.

I suggested to Jake that he might like to change, and then showed him the
new shirts and Ts I'd bought him.  He looked faintly cross, then said
thanks rather grudgingly, then I wanted him to try them on.  So he stripped
off his shirt and went to put one of the new ones on, until I sad "And the
T, surely - that one's all sweaty from where you've been working", and
again he looked faintly annoyed.

It's always great to watch a guy changing, so I enjoyed seeing Jake's bare
chest and then how it looked even better in the skin-tight T that stretched
to kind of emphasise the contours and planes of his muscles, and then he
pulled on the shirt and buttoned it.  I noticed how Jake seemed not to be
concerned that Reb and Greg were watching him - I mean, in a locker room
you do know that other guys are doing the same sorts of things, but on
those odd occasions when I'd had to change in front of other guys in other
locations - like when we were at school and a drink spilled over me in the
cafeteria and I'd pulled my shirt off as it was scaldingly hot - I'd felt
embarrassed.  I noted that real men, grown up men, weren't ashamed of their
bodies (well, if they were in good shape, I suppose), and decided I needed
to be more unconcerned about such things.

I threw Jake's dirty T to Greg and told him he could wear it at dinner, and
he seemed really delighted at being able to look more like "one of us"
(well, from the waist up, at least).  He held it to his face briefly as if
relishing the scent of Jake on it, and I wish I'd thought of doing that
myself, but then pulled it on.  If anything it increased the desirability
of Greg's body - the hem hovered just at the top of his dick, and the sight
of this young kid with his dick sticking out from under it was somehow
really erotic.

The meal was great, actually - we had a fantastic Mexican chicken dish,
then apple pie and ice cream.  There didn't seem to be any question of Greg
and/or Reb going outside to eat in the pool complex, so once again it was
all four of us and once again, after a few beers, Jake and Reb were
wisecracking and joking.  I'd had to tell Greg not to eat so much as I was
worried about his body, which had rather dampened the mood at one point,
but I do believe a responsible owner needs to do that in spite of the
social consequences.

Jake wanted to watch sport on TV after dinner and Reb seemed ready, too.  I
didn't want the two of them enjoying themselves to the exclusion of me,
though, and vetoed the idea.  Jake muttered something about it being
boring, and I suggested we play cards.  Poker is pretty meaningless when
one of the players has stacks of money and two of them have absolutely
none, so we agreed that we should play strip poker.  That in itself made
for a fun time as we had to find more stuff for Reb and Greg to wear so we
all started equal.

When I've played with the guys at school I've always won as I'm pretty good
at bluffing and calculating odds and stuff like that.  But it was a wholly
different thing with Reb - I suppose he'd had so much practice, had spent
so much time playing with his marine buddies, that after a couple of
unfortunate hands for me I was sitting there in my boxer shorts when the
others had still got at least a couple of garments on.  In a desperate
attempt at recover I wanted to bet higher in the next round, but the others
pointed out that if I lost I'd be naked, and that my boxer shorts weren't
sufficient to cover the bet I wanted to place.

"When my brothers and me played, we had forfeits", Jake said. This was new
to me, as I hadn't known anything about his family - well, I didn't know
all that much about Jake at all, really, I suppose.  "Steve can bet his
shorts and agree to pay a forfeit if he loses."

"Oh no, I guess' I'll sit out this round...", I muttered.

"Hey, Steve, I thought you wanted to bet?  I thought you'd got a good hand,
or were you bluffing?"  Jake laughed.

"..or scared?", Reb added, looking at me directly as if challenging me.

Well I couldn't have that, could I? Another guy thinking I was scared, even
if he was a slave.  "Good hand... Bluffing.... That's for you all to decide
when you play", I said as brazenly as I could.  "So a forfeit it is."

That bastard Reb won the hand.  He was bluffing, too, but since he had a
sizeable pot he could afford it.  He smiled at me and casually asked for my
shorts.

"Oh, that's OK", I said.  "I reckon the game's over as I've got nothing
left to bet with.  We could watch TV, or..."

"...or we could watch you could hand over your shorts, then pay the
forfeit, and then we could watch TV", Reb added.

"Hey, that's right!", Jake yelled in excitement.  "Come on, Steve, pay up!
Strip off for us, and then we'll decide on the forfeit."

So it's no big deal, OK? I mean I've been naked in front of all these guys.
Had sex with them all.  That's how I reasoned to myself, but somehow being
forced to strip in front of them as they all sat there watching was
something else.  I didn't want to do it.  I wasn't going to do it.

"Come on, Steve!  I'm beginning to think you want to welsh on the bet..."
Jake called out, and then I knew I had no choice as I didn't want Jake to
think something like that of me.  So slowly and hesitantly I stood up, then
turned my back on them as I let my boxers fall to the ground.  As I turned
around to acknowledge the cheers and whistles from the guys I instinctively
covered my dick with my hands, and they all now began to hoot and jeer,
jokingly, and call out for me to put my hands behind my head.

I didn't have much choice, did I?  And it's not as if I had anything to be
ashamed of in terms of the size of my dick.  So slowly and reluctantly,
feeling the blood rush to my cheeks in my embarrassment, I did.  I began to
feel much like the two slaves must have felt when I'd made them do this,
and the thought of that started to make my dick stiffen, which caused them
all to whistle and clap some more.

"Now, the forfeit...", Reb began.

"Hey, come on, guys, enough is enough..."

"No, Steve.  Enough isn't enough, not until you've paid the forfeit.  You
owe Reb...", Jake told me, still laughing at my evident discomfort.

I was blushing bright red now, but what could I do?  I know what I should
have done - I should have ordered the slaves out to sleep in the gym, then
gone up to bed with Jake.  But I felt locked in to this 'guy' thing where
you have to pay forfeits, so glaring angrily at Reb I said "OK, but get a
move on then.  I haven't got all night."

Reb smiled slyly, then pulled the other guys' heads together and I heard
them whispering and laughing.  He looked up and me and I could hardly
believe it; "We'd like to see you jerk off, Steve.  Kneel on the table here
so you're nice and close to us, then jerk off for us.  And be sure to catch
all your cum, as we'll want to see how much a young guy like you can
produce."

"No, you can't be serious!"  I shouted, but I could tell from the looks on
their faces that they were.  Well, if it had been difficult to back out
before, it would be impossible for me to do so now.  I'd made Reb do this,
I remembered, and the bastard was paying me back.  I couldn't let him win.

  Burning with embarrassment and shame I clambered onto the table and knelt
on to the top.  Three pairs of eyes were focussed on my dick, and I began
to stroke it.  At first I couldn't make it stiffen, and now anger swept
through me as this failure.  I'd got my hand wrapped around my dick and I
was jerking it so violently that sweat started to trickle down my ribs, but
at least I started to show some signs of life and my erection began to
build - my embarrassment at having to do this at all was forgotten now as I
needed to put on a good show - yes, the thought of failure was even worse
than the thought of having to do it at all!  I wondered if that's how
slaves felt, but that thought was swept away as my brain began to fill with
the knowledge that I was nearing my climax - I mean, it's hard to think
about anything else at times like that, isn't it?  And then I shot - a big
spurt of cum, I knew.  I stopped stroking myself and began to relax as my
body
 jerked convulsively as two or three little "after cums" at first spurted
and then dribbled out of me.  I knelt there, hands at my side, running with
sweat, somehow aware that there was a little slime of cum still hanging out
of my slit as my dick relaxed and my 'skin cam back to cover me.

"You'd make a lousy slave", Reb told me. "I told you to catch your cum and
you ignored me.  I think you need another forfeit for failing this
one.... A good spanking might remind you to do as you're told in
future...."

"Aw, come on, Reb!  Steve's done enough" Jake slapped Reb on the shoulders
as he said this, the two men evidently thinking it was hilarious.  "..and
anyway if there's going to be any spanking, it's going to be me who does it
when Steve and I are fucking!  And it's not as if you haven't got his
cum...."  I looked down, and there was one of the drinks glasses with some
of my cum in it, and more running down the side.

"OK, no spanking.  But he still needs to do more as he didn't do the
forfeit properly."  Reb looked at me, eyes locking.  "So let's see you eat
your cum, Steve."

"No way!  It's fucking disgusting...."

Reb laughed.  "Guys eat cum all the time - usually fresh and hot from the
dick.  There's no harm in it.  It's perfectly sterile."

I knew he was right, of course, and I'd liked licking Jake and Greg's cum -
well, if not 'liked' exactly, I didn't mind, and it certainly added to the
fun of sex with them.  So I could have done it, except I thought it was
totally and disgustingly humiliating to have to do it from a glass, and in
front of the three of them.  "That's it!  Game over!", I snapped, and got
down from the table.  And of course as always happens when you're not
paying attention, I managed to fumble with pulling my boxer shorts on, and
had to hop around from one leg to another as I tried to get the tangle
they'd fallen in to sorted out.

"You haven't finished.... Sir", Reb protested.  "Come on, it's only a bit
of cum! There's no harm in it."  He held the glass out towards me.

"You fucking slave!  Didn't you hear that I said the game was over?"  I was
really angry now, and my anger increased - totally replacing my
embarrassment - as Reb wiggled the glass towards me again.

"So if you want to see cum eating, you do it!", I snapped.  "A slave should
feel privileged to be offered his owner's cum.  Drink it down, Reb."

He hesitated. "Come on, it's only a bit of cum! There's no harm in it.", I
snapped, mimicking his own words a moment before.

Reb glared at me, and I saw his whole body position change - he tensed up,
leaned forward, getting into the classic "fight or flee" stance, and I knew
it was "fight".  "Do as you're fucking well told!  Or I'll punish you."

Reb glared defiantly, and I could see I wasn't winning.  He didn't fear
physical punishment so mine was an empty threat.  But I couldn't allow a
slave to best me, could I?  "I'll punish you, Reb.  And to show Greg that
disobeying your owner is not a sensible strategy, I think I'll punish him,
too - and that's a pity, as his back is just recovering from the savagery
of his previous owner.  But I have no choice, Reb - slaves who revolt and
disobey their owners need to be made an example of, along with any other
slaves who see it.  So it will be a good whipping for both of you."

Now really angry, the veins in his temple and neck pulsing, Reb glared at
me.  Time seemed to stand still.  Then slowly and still with a totally
defiant look he raised the glass to his lips and tilted it.

I really needed to follow through, but after this initial breakthrough it
was easier - Greg and Jake both looked faintly embarrassed as I stood there
and then ordered Reb to clean out the glass with his fingers and then suck
his fingers clean, so that every last drop of my cum was consumed.

Reb and Greg were sent out then to the pool complex, and I smiled at Jake
once we were alone.  "Come on, then.... Although I've just shot my load, I
can feel myself recovering... especially at the thought of sex with a
gorgeous guy like you..."

"That wasn't very nice, Steve...."

"What do you mean?"

"Humiliating Reb like that."

"Humiliating him?  What the fuck do you mean?  He's a slave, Jake.  My
slave.  How can a slave be humiliated?  And look what he did to me...."

"You're trying to excuse yourself, as usual.  He didn't 'do' anything to
you - it was all in the game.  If you didn't want to take part you
shouldn't have suggested it.  And if you're not prepared to pay the price,
don't play the game!  And as for humiliating you - he's right, there is no
harm in drinking your own cum - guys do it all the time.  I bet you've done
it lots of time, jerking off to that porn you like.  We were all laughing
and joking, and you could have simply done it and we'd all have had a good
time.  Instead of that you refuse to 'play', just like a spoiled kid.  'I
don't like the game, so I'm not playing!'.  And then Reb gets it from you.
And as for humiliating a slave - you keep forgetting, Steve, that Reb is a
man too, a man like you and me.  Sure he's a slave, but he's a man.  And
you humiliated him, and you know it.  In fact he's the only sensible one of
the pair of you - he recognised when the game had to stop, and gave in
 gracefully."

"What the fuck do you mean?"  I was angry at Jake now.  But deep down I
knew my anger was mostly because he was right and I was in the wrong.

"If Reb hadn't given in, what would you have done?  You'd threatened him
with punishment and it had no effect.  So you threatened him and Greg -
Greg who was wholly innocent, a kid who was caught up in a game between two
guys.  And wisely Reb backed down at that point.  But what if he hadn't,
Steve?  What would you have done?  Whipped Reb and Greg?  Punished Greg for
something not his fault?  You're as bad as his last owner, Steve, taking it
out on Greg when he's not the problem."

He paused and went on "But what then?  After you've whipped them and Reb
still hasn't drunk the cum, what then?  A visit to the public whip master
for a session with the bull whip?  And then on to gelding....  And then
death?  Reb isn't the kind of guy who'd ever give in to pain or threats of
it, as I think you know.  So it was fucking stupid to get started down that
route, if you ask me!"

He paused again, looking at me and seeing that I was now utterly deflated,
standing there hanging my head and feeling terrible that Jake could be so
harsh, so fucking critical.  He reached out, and took my arm.  "Oh, come
on.... There's no changing the past.  What's done is done.  But try to act
more like a grown-up, will you?  Think, before that temper drives your
mouth to say things that you'll later regret."

He began to smile.  "But don't grow up too fast.... I kind of like the
spoiled brat - I reckon a real man like me can have a real effect....  And,
you know, kids might need spanking..."

"We'll see who's the real man when my dick is reaming your ass... I seem to
remember last night a few cries and moans, a bit like a kid....!"

Jake grabbed me and we started to kiss.  Then before the passion totally
overcame us we raced up the stairs to my bedroom.

End Of Part Seventeen.