Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2012 10:46:16 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Buys A Slave, Part Twwenty Seven

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 TWENTY-SEVEN


I strode up towards the top of the grounds.  Reb and Karl were indeed
working away - their skimpy uniforms were soaked in sweat, and they were
almost steaming in the cool air.  "You stupid fuckers!", I raged at them.
"You've blown it!...."

"What the fuck are you going on about?  We're working hard here...."  Karl
gestured at his damp body as he said this.

"Mortimer!  That's what I'm going on about!  What the fuck did you think
you were doing?"

Reb was looking surprised now, and Karl snapped "Who or what the fuck is
Mortimer?"

"The owner's cat!"

"Oh that moggy - big ugly brute!  We'd just finished preparing a seed bed -
dug it, raked it fine, levelled it, raked it again, and then that moggy
comes and scratches around and digs a hole and starts to crap in it...  So
we chased it off."

"You threw a stone at it!"

"It was only a clod of earth.  It didn't hit it - the stupid fucking thing
had a good turn of speed... So shut the fuck up, Steve, and let us get on
with our work, or else you'll be complaining we don't work hard enough..."
Karl was sounding kind of angry now.

I looked at the two of them.  "Listen, you stupid idiots... The owner here
is a lady, an old lady, you know that.  And the 'moggy' is Mortimer, her
pride and joy.  And if Mortimer wants to crap all over where you've been
working, so fucking what?  As it is, you've almost lost me the contract to
have you working here.  So now I'm going to have to punish you."

"Ha fucking ha!" Karl snorted.  "You hardly pay me anything anyway, so
docking my wages is not going to matter..."

"I know that.  And anyway the punishment has got to be more tangible and
immediate.  Something that befits a slave...."

"I'm not a fucking slave!"

"But you're playing the part of one, so I can give you a job here.  So
you're going to have t behave like one as far as punishment is concerned,
too.  And I will have to beat you..."

"No fucking way!"

"OK, have it your way.  If I can't punish you as I'd punish a slave, then
I'll have to let you go - tell the customer here that I'm selling you. And
then you'll have no money, unless Jake can give you some - and I know he's
got absolutely nothing spare.  So you'll be effectively destitute, so
you'll end up as a slave, and some other owner will, sooner or later, beat
you anyway.  So you're only postponing the inevitable.  And whilst you're
doing all of this, you're fucking it up for Reb, too!"

"How so?"

"Look, Karl, I'm trying to build a business and this is my first customer
and someone who could be a real help in getting others.  I can't afford to
keep Reb without the work - I've got no job either, as you may have noticed
- unless, that is, my business is a success.  So no punishment for you now,
no buy-in from this customer, no business, and I'll have to sell Reb to
give me some money to survive on.  And for a slave like him - getting older
- the prospects are not good.  Before I bought him he was destined for the
mines - well he might avoid that, I suppose.  But he'll probably end up in
some coffle on an agricultural holding in the Midwest somewhere..."

"You're making it up!"

"Karl, why would I do that?"

Karl stood there, looking at me, and at Reb.  Reb stared down at the
ground, trying to avoid his eyes.  Then Karl asked "Is he bullshitting,
Reb?"

"I don't think so. But I can see why you don't want to be punished.  I was
beaten and stuff, and it's tough.  So if you want to avoid it, that's OK by
me, as even in my old unit not all the guys could tolerate pain and
suffering to the same extent.  And I guess I'll just have to take my
chances, as a slave can't control who buys him, and what he's used for."

"Fuck me, Reb, are you saying you think I'm a coward?"

"No.  But I am saying I can see why you might want to avoid a punishment
session."

As they were speaking I could see Mrs Farrar advancing up the garden.  She
was accompanied by Greg - in a very splendid new uniform of a sea-green
short tunic and matching brief shorts, all piped and embroidered with gold
and which complemented his dark tan very well.  The reason he was there I
deduced was that he was carrying the fucking cat that was the cause of all
these problems: the big ginger animal was in his arms, and I guess with its
claws stuck into his skin.

I had no idea what was going to happen.  But Mrs Farrar was looking
expectantly at me as if I was in control - which I suppose I was.  "Right,
you two!  Go and apologise to Mortimer - that's the cat that you abused
earlier."

I saw Karl looking really rebellious, but Reb took him by the arm and
pulled him towards where Greg was standing.  The cat watched them, and I
could see Greg flinch slightly as presumably it dug its claws further into
his skin as they approached.  "On your knees!" I snapped at them.  "Can't
you see you're frightening the animal again?"

It was comical, really, and if it hadn't been so potentially serious I'm
sure I would have fallen about laughing, as the two big men solemnly knelt
down, and then Reb reached out and stroked the cat, and he nudged at Karl
to do the same.  It must have been so humiliating for them.

"Well I think that resolves it...", I said hopefully.  "As you can see,
ma'am, they're gentle giants really."

"Indeed, Mr Masters. I can see they are behaving properly towards poor
Mortimer now.  But I do believe that you need to reinforce the message to
them.... You mentioned chastising them, and although the A A S S is
generally against harsh physical punishment, you have convinced me that it
is kinder for these two slaves to receive some token now, so that they can
avoid greater mistakes in the future and live generally more fulfilled
lives."

I saw I had no choice, and still had no idea how Karl would react.

There was a low wall separating the vegetable garden from the area we were
standing on, and I snapped "Right, you two - bend over the wall!"

Very, very slowly Karl got to his feet, and with some urging from Reb, he
did as I'd ordered and both men were standing next to each other, bent over
the wall with their butts facing me.

"I'm afraid there has to be a little indelicacy now, Ma'am.... I am going
to use a cane on them, and it is necessary to do it on the bare buttocks.
If you wish to turn away, I will need to expose them..."

"Could you not simply do it as they are, Mr Masters?"

"Regrettably, no.  There is likely to be blood.  And if the blood then
dries on their uniform, or if shreds of the uniform get carried into the
wound by the cane, then it will be much harder for the slave to recover.  I
think that caning, if it needs to be done at all, of course, needs to be on
the bare skin to avoid these complications - in the best interests of the
slave, naturally, as I think the A A S S would wish."

"Quite so, Mr Masters.  As ever, you can explain these things so sensibly.
I believe I can see their bare skin as they are of course only slaves, and
it's not as if there are not many of the poor creatures who are kept naked
around here, and one cannot but help see some of it."

I'd hoped the prospect of their naked asses would have turned her off, but
it now seemed I had no option but to proceed.  I stood behind the two of
them and said "I'm going to pull down your shorts now, and then I'm going
to take one of those bamboo canes from the vegetable plot and I'm going to
give you six strokes each on your bare asses.  You can howl and scream as
much as you like...."

"Fuck me!", Karl muttered.  "Why six?  And just do it gently..."

"Karl, it needs to be a real beating.  One that leaves marks.  If you don't
think you're man enough to take it...."

He shuffled around as if settling himself, and I moved closer and then
pulled down Reb's shorts, followed by Karl's.  He really did have a superb
ass, but I couldn't help notice that Reb hadn't shaved him all the way
through - as I looked between his spread legs I could see that his asshole
must still be surrounded by hair.

I'd never actually caned another guy before, although I'd seen a lot of it
on the porno videos of course.  So I knew some of the stuff that I ought to
do to make the experience for the two men as tough as possible - swishing
the bamboo through the air so that they could hear the 'whistling' noise;
using the end of it to tap on the inside of their ankles to make them move
their feet apart to get their asses properly spread; then bringing the cane
down slowly so that the end caressed their asses gently, so they could
sense that I was 'taking aim' and getting into the right position.  And
then I was ready.

Nothing quite prepares you for the first time you bring a cane down onto a
bare ass, does it?  That tremendous feeling of power as you bring it as
fast as you can down through the air; the way the slave's body jerks
forward quite involuntarily as the cane makes contact; the surprised shout
of rage and pain from the slave; and finally the sight of the purple mark
spreading over the bare skin.

I did Reb first, and I have to say that I thought I'd done a really good
job.  He had screamed at each stroke, in spite of trying not to, and after
six strokes he was lying there making quiet sobbing noises that he had been
unable to suppress.  And I'd managed to get the strokes neatly parallel and
approximately an equal distance apart, too, which I thought showed that I
could soon become a master of the technique.

I was really worried about Karl, though, and before I started I whispered
"So it's going to be the same for you as it was for Reb.  Are you sure you
can take it?  You can get up and walk away, you know, providing you're
prepared to take the consequences..."

"Fuck you, Steve!  I can take anything he can!"

So there it was, my words had done their work!  And I began.  It was
actually a lot more exciting to be caning Karl - I had some 'hold' over Reb
as, if the worst came to the worst, he knew that there was no way of
avoiding punishment.  If he'd run off, the Slave Police would ultimately
track him with his embedded chip, and that would be that.  But Karl could
simply vanish - he might have huge problems later, but he'd avoid the
immediate pain and humiliation.  So caning these 'free' buttocks was
somehow more intense, more erotic - here I was hurting a man who was
agreeing to lie there and take it.  I sensed that he had ultimately
accepted my total domination of him.

When I was finished I found I was sweating. Those of you who have not done
it probably don't realise the effort it is to wield a cane through the air
like that and apply it with force.  Or is it that the experience of
striking the naked buttocks like that is so very, very special that a whole
lot of your body's mechanisms are triggered?  Anyway, I knew that I had a
huge erection, and I subconsciously bent my body to try to make it a little
less conspicuous - even if Mrs Farrar would not notice it, either Reb or
Karl would be bound to and make comments about it later.

Karl went to stand up, but I pressed my hand on his neck - underneath the
chain collar - and snapped "Stay there until you have permission to move",
then turned to Mrs Farrar and asked her politely if she would like to
inspect the slaves at closer quarters - she shook her head.  The pressure I
was exerting on Karl's neck wasn't sufficient to hold a strong man like
that down had he forced himself upwards, but it was one of those
psychological things that is so important - it re-emphasised to him my
dominance and control, a control which he was at some level accepting.

I left the two men there then, telling them that they could get up, and,
interestingly, it was clear that they'd both been aroused sexually by the
experience as there were distinct signs of pre-cum on their dicks which I
noticed before they shuffled awkwardly around to attempt to conceal
themselves from Mrs Farrar as they groped for their shorts.  "Don't stop
work", I commanded.  "It will hurt, but you need to keep working, as we
need the money."

Inside the house Mrs Farrar felt that she needed another sherry, and I too
had a big glass.  Greg lay there on the floor playing with Mortimer - sort
of 'teasing' the animal by stretching his hand out towards it, then trying
to snatch it away before Mortimer struck him with his claws.  I couldn't
help noticing that Greg was getting quite badly scratched by this and there
were drops of blood on his wrists.  Mrs Farrar saw me looking.  "Isn't he
just adorable?  Not only does he have the sweetest temperament for a pony,
but he likes animals and playing with Mortimer!"  She beckoned Greg over
and opened a box of chocolates that was standing on a side table searched
through it, then popped one of them into Greg's mouth.  "There you are,
your favourite, violet creme."

"Mrs Farrar, I must ask you not to do that, please...."

"But he is such a good boy, and he deserves a reward..."

"His reward should be to know that you are pleased with him.  A slave
should need to further reward.  And I am very concerned that he will get
fat and lose muscle tone, or that his teeth will decay: veterinarians'
bills are very high, and if Greg's teeth go I would have no option but to
have them all extracted which would spoil his ability to eat slave chow..."

"Oh Mr Masters, no!  Surely he could have fillings...."

"Mrs Farrar, I am afraid that I am not a rich man.  I could not afford
dental work - there's no health insurance for slaves, you know.  So
extraction would be the only choice."

"..but feeding him slave chow...  Surely...?"

"Again, ma'am, you forget the realities of a slave's life.  I allow Greg to
eat regular food, but it is almost certain that I will not be his only
owner during his life.  And other owners may not treat their slaves as
well, and chow may be the only option.  Think of how miserable it would be
for Greg if at the end of the day, when he was famished, he had to wait and
try to soak chow to soften it.... Assuming his owner provided him with a
bowl, that is..."

"Oh Mr Masters, the unspeakable cruelty of these people..."

"It's not cruel as such - not that I am apologising for owners in general -
but the realities of life.  Chow is cheap and nutritious, and most slaves
manage it well.  Anything else is an additional expense, or inconvenience,
to the owner."

"You are right, of course.  I must raise the whole subject of slave
nutrition at the next meeting of the A A S S.  And in the meantime when we
go into town tomorrow I will buy Greg a nice toothbrush, so after he has
had a little treat he can ensure his dental hygiene."

Our talk then turned to payment, and Mrs Farrar was absolutely delighted
when she saw that some part of the bill would go to the A A S S.  "I will
certainly recommend you to my friends, Mr Masters, and at the committee
meeting next Monday I will also suggest that you be named supplier of
slaves to the Society."  She then got out a cheque book and wrote a cheque
for the mount, apologising for "being old fashioned" but that she did not
like carrying large sums of cash, and found that paying with a card was
"not like actually spending money".

I had a few practical problems then, actually - but I managed to sweet talk
a clerk in Jake's bank into accepting the cheque in to his account.  She
told me that it was so rare and that she had not actually ever seen one,
"especially in relation to a simple workers' account like your friend's."

There was trouble later, of course, when Reb and Karl got back to the
apartment.  Reb tried to stay out of it, but Jake stormed around telling me
how much his butt hurt and how totally humiliated he felt to be standing
there in front of a woman having that done to him.  "Look", I finally
shouted. "It's time you took responsibility for your own actions.  I know
you were in the marines and you're used simply to taking orders and doing
as you're told and not having to think, but out here in the real world
things are different.  You're a free man, and you're responsible for what
you do.  You wouldn't have had to be caned if you hadn't been so fucking
stupid and hadn't thrown stuff at someone's cherished animal.  And then you
did have a choice - a choice which you exercised freely - to accept a
punishment or to be fired.  That's what millions of workers do every day."

"It was no choice...."

"Yes it was! You could have walked off and accepted the consequences of
that.  But you stayed, and you need to accept the consequences of that
decision, too.  Reb didn't have a choice as I own him, but you did. So stop
complaining."

"It fucking hurts...."

"And stop whining, Karl!  It's meant to hurt.  But you don't hear Reb
complaining, do you?  Or do you believe I went easier on him than on you?
Or perhaps he's just tougher?"

For the second time that day I thought he might hit me as he didn't like me
making unfavourable comparisons with Reb, but Reb put out a hand and kind
of held him back.  "Let's shower", he said to Karl: "Hot water might take
some of the sting out of it."

"And don't think I'm totally uncaring", I told the pair of them.  "I bought
some analgesic cream from the pharmacy this afternoon, and when you've got
your asses nice and clean - clean enough that I won't mind touching them -
I'll massage it in to both of you."

When they came out of the shower Reb saw me holding the big tin of cream
and went to offer to take it, but I shook my head and told them to both lie
down on their bellies on our bed.  They looked amazingly sexy, actually -
two mature guys who were in great shape physically lying there with their
butts up, just as if they were waiting to be fucked.  It was hard to decide
which of them I'd take first if I had the opportunity.

I did Reb first, and I always like handling his butt muscles anyway.  But
now there was the added excitement of feeling the heat radiating upwards
onto my hands, and the sensation of the ridges of the tissue in the welts
as my fingers ran over them.  Reb groaned as I continued to work the cream
in, but whether it was because it was still painful or because he liked
being massaged like this it was not easy to say.

Then it was Karl's turn, and almost as soon as I'd started, he began
complaining - no, not complaining, actually, more like making a lot of
uncalled-for remarks such as the fact that it must be fun for a fag to be
doing it.  I wanted to slap him - slap him hard on that butt, but thought
that if I did the reaction I'd get would not be worth the satisfaction from
causing him additional pain.  So I worked away diligently, enjoying the
quite different sensation that came to me from Karl - for one thing he had
a lot of hairs on his actual butt and they caused my palms to tingle as I
ran my hands over them.  And then there was the different 'look' of him,
partly because of the very visible tan lines and the stark whiteness of his
ass, and partly because he was, if anything, even more heavily built there
than Reb was.

As he began to relax under my hands - or as the analgesic creme started to
work - Karl too began to moan softly.  I couldn't resist it - I took
another dollop of cream and very, very gently started to massage it down
into his butt crack.  He moaned some more, and I became bolder, putting a
finger at the top of his powerful thighs then trying to work it upwards
into his crack.  Karl was moaning more and more, but I fucked it up: I went
too far, my finger touched the pucker of his hole and at once he twisted
around and glared up at me. "Fucking fag!" He roared.  "What the fuck do
you think you're doing?"

"There were some cane marks around there, and I was trying to help."

"Leave my ass alone, fag!", he snapped, and with that got up off the bed.
I was glad to see he winced with pain as his movements had been too sudden
as he needed to learn to moderate his temper.  And I'd enjoyed that initial
touch of what I felt certain was complete virgin territory - Karl needed to
have something done about that before he was much older, I decided.

When Jake came home the two men were lying around again - they'd moved
themselves to the couch, which they'd pulled out into its bed formation at
great inconvenience to me as it took up most of the space in the living
room of the apartment.  They were lying on their bellies again, with their
butts bare, and I didn't think they were looking too bad.  But the moment
Jake saw them he gave a low whistle and said "Who gave them that
thrashing?"

"Your fag lover boy!" Karl told him, and I made another mental note that
something needed to be done to Karl before he was very much older.

"Yes, it was me.  They were fucking stupid, and I needed them to be
punished to keep faith with the customer..."

"But Karl's a free man.... You can't do that to a free guy."

"Why not?  I did it to Reb, even though I don't think it was primarily he
who was at fault.  And Karl was supposed to be a slave, so it needed to be
done to him, too.  And in any case, he asked for it - I gave him the
choice, and he said he could take it as he was as tough as Reb. But,
frankly, I'm beginning to doubt it... You don't hear Reb going on and on
complaining..."

"Listen, fucker, don't start saying I'm not as tough as Reb..." Karl
snarled.  And his reaction caused me to snap - I've told you I was pissed
off by his whole attitude, and this was the final straw.  I picked up a big
hardback book of Jake's that was lying around and slammed it down onto his
butt with a resounding 'slap' sound.

Karl screamed like a wounded animal, then tried to throw himself off the
couch at me - and because of the confined space I was easily able to
side-step his initial assault and he crashed into the wall and fell to the
ground.  As he started to collect himself together to come at me, Reb threw
himself at him to try to calm him, not altogether successfully.  Jake and I
stood there as the two naked men grappled together - it was really erotic,
actually, like having one of those porn movies that specialise in nude
wrestling playing out right in front of you, with the added excitement that
they didn't actually have to do very much to actually be in quite a lot of
pain because of their caning.  Finally, they stopped, their naked bodies
locked together in stalemate.

"That's enough!", Jake snapped.  "Whilst you're in my apartment you'll obey
the house rules.  And I don't want all my stuff destroyed.  And you, Steve,
you should know better - provoking Karl like that..."

"Do you remember what he called me? He deserved it..."

"Listen to you!  He did this, so I did that, so he then did this...  You're
like a couple of kids, not grown men.  Now I want no more of this, from any
of you..."

Well I calmed down as I could see that Jake was partially correct, but Karl
still looked pissed off.  So I said to Jake "Let's you and me go out to
dinner tonight - a cheap Chinese, or something... I've got the first
payment and it's in your bank account, so we have the cash."

"We should all four go, Steve - there's a Chinese that doesn't
discriminate, a couple of blocks over, so Reb can come too."

"No, Jake.  They can't.  Look at their butts - there's no way they could
sit throughout a meal!  Let's you and me go, as there's stuff I want to
talk about with you, and we can bring them takeaway back."

Reb looked as if he was happy with this, but Karl said he wasn't a sissy
and he was going to join us free men.  So I said, calmly, "So you think
you're better than Reb, do you?  All this time you spent acting like you're
his buddy, and now you're happy to leave him here all alone..."

"He can come to!"

"No, Karl, he can't.  Because I'm his owner, and I've said he's to stay
here, if you want to know the reason why. So if you're not Reb's buddy,
sure, come and join Jake and me."

Karl looked furious, but I thought I'd made a good point and was secretly
very pleased with the way that I'd been able to take another step in
getting Karl to identify with Reb, and thus start to believe that he was
more like a slave than a free man.

"What the fuck's going on?" Jake asked me once we were sat in the Chinese
restaurant. "Caning them like that, you and Karl at each others'
throats...."

"I told you about the caning!  They needed to be punished as they did
something stupid that might have lost us the business.  I bet you punish
slaves all the time at S & D for doing stupid crap. And as for Karl - well,
he's not 'settling down' quite as quickly as I hoped, but there are some
good signs..."

"What the fuck are you going on about, Steve?"

"Look, we know we can take 'rubbish' slaves, do some remedial work, and
make a nice profit: So we can search out guys like Reb who haven't been
properly broken and show them the error of their ways - Reb now accepts
he's a slave, and knows he has to behave, or else he'll end up stubbed,
down the mines.  Then we can find slaves who have been cruelly ill-treated
- ill treated to the extent that they're effectively worthless - like Greg
and Russ - and we can look after them and bring them back into useful
productive service.  I've got some numbers, and if we sold Reb, Greg and
Russ today we'd be sitting on a very sizeable profit.  But think about it -
if we could sell Karl as a slave, it would be pure profit: no cost of
acquisition as there was with Reb, and no lengthy and potentially costly
remedial work as there was with Greg and Russ - we can't rely on finding
slaves who are so consistently undervalued in future."

"But Karl's not a slave..."

"And that's the magic part of it!  Don't you see?"

"No. I don't.  Perhaps I don't have a brain the size of yours..."

"Don't undersell yourself, Jake!  You've got a lot of things that are the
size of mine..." I smiled, and put my foot up under the table and rubbed
his crotch with it.

"Look, Jake, you've heard Karl say how lots of experienced guys like him
are being let go from the forces as they've decided to use slaves instead
as it's better in all kinds of ways - cheaper to train and cheaper to
equip, for example, as they don't have to be so concerned with slaves
getting injured or blown up or whatever.  So what's going to happen to all
those guys?  There's not a lot of jobs anyway, as we know - and although
they may have been very good marines or infantrymen or whatever, those are
not skills which are of any use in 'real' jobs, even assuming there were
any 'real' jobs anyway.  So they'll mostly spend their discharge money,
then be destitute, and then be enslaved."

Jake was nodding, but still looking puzzled.  "But think about it - these
guys are all used to obeying orders.  Obeying orders without thinking much
about it.  And they're used to living a kind of communal life, in barracks
and stuff.  So for a lot of them the transition to slavery won't be all
that difficult - but, as we know, once they're enslaved, that's it: they're
slaves for life.  So suppose we offer them something - offer them a job,
security, somewhere to live, and even a tiny wage, just enough to buy a
beer occasionally, wouldn't that be interesting to them?  They'd be slaves
in effect, but we leave them with the possibility - the faint possibility -
that things could change as they're not really slaves.  They're simply
having their life run as if they were."

Jake nodded again, "Now think of it from the other side, Jake, from the
point of view of the owner.  Is it really exciting to own a slave?"

Jake nodded.  "Yes, sure it is", I continued.  "You actually own another
guy.  You can do what you like with him.  You can give him orders, you can
fuck him, you can make him work for you... And if he fails in any of this
,you can punish him in various ways.  It's pretty exhilarating: here's a
man, a strong virile man, and I totally own and control him.  But that
experience could be improved, I reckon."

"How?"

"Here's this man, this free man.  I can give him orders.  I can fuck him.
I can make him work for me.  And if he disobeys, I can punish him.  I
reckon a lot of men buy slaves because they want power over another man,
and here we are providing something even better: a free man, over whom you
have this tremendous power!"

"It'll never work.  You'll never get guys to do it - well, not the fucking
and the punishment, anyway."

"Oh I think we can, Jake.  Look at Karl, he's prime target material - from
the marines, thrown out... About to be destitute... And I've already
punished him.  And you may have noticed he's wearing a slave collar.  And
he's been working hard - really hard - as hard as our real slave, Reb, has.
If we can make Karl into the kind of quasi-slave I'm thinking of, we can do
it to anyone.  We'll have a ready supply of slaves, slaves of the right
'kind', too - young-ish, good hard bodies - and we won't have had to pay a
cent to acquire them as they'll volunteer.  So they'll be one hundred
percent profit."

"It sounds a good plan, Steve.  But I'm not sure it's going to work."

"Why not?"

"Well I buy all the stuff about them being used to obeying orders, and
being fit and stuff, and maybe you can convince them to be punished.  But
the rest.... Giving the owner the power to fuck them.... They'll never
agree to that."

"As I said, Jake, I think we can do it."

"You haven't fucked Karl...."

"No, that's right.  But, Jake, you're missing one thing!"

"And what's that?"

"The word 'yet' at the end of that sentence."

End Of Part Twenty Seven