Date: Tue, 13 Dec 2005 11:26:34 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Grows Up,Part Eleven

Steve Grows Up

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part 11

I woke up feeling really great the next morning.  I
gave Rob his breakfast, but the ungrateful bastard
still looked really pissed off as I squeezed the slave
mush down past the bit.  Then I let him shower, and
afterwards, I even undid the bit so that he could
stand there and shave properly - it's really hard to
do it past the metal holding pieces, as you probably
know.  Of course I was concerned that he'd try to
shout or alert people, so I stood there with his slave
prod, watching him as he worked away.  I don't know if
I could actually have prodded Rob - when it had been
done to me it hurt so much that I'm not sure that I
could easily inflict that kind of agony on another guy
myself.  But he didn't know that, so was just silent
as he made himself look neat, and then knelt there
almost resigned as I clipped the bit back in his
mouth.

"We need you to look well cared for today, Rob", I
told him cheerfully.  "I'm crashing over the border,
and by lunch time both you and I will be free men.  I
expect they'll interview you for the local news and
such, and I'd hate them to think that I mistreated
another guy!"  I was in such a good mood that I even
let Rob wear a pair of his "regular" shorts, as he'd
worn as a free man - there didn't seem to be much
point in exposing him to public humiliation by making
him appear almost naked in slave shorts in a couple of
hours time.

I left him manacled as I went off to breakfast, and
had a really good one - fresh juice, ham, eggs,
toast.... And I left a really generous tip for the
waitress.  This was, after all, the last time I'd be
spending Rob's money and tomorrow I'd need to find a
job, work, and then save, save hard, as I needed to
buy mom and dad from the Colonel.

When we got into the SUV I made sure Rob was really
strapped in well, as I didn't want him to get injured,
and we set off towards the border.  I kind of lurked
in a side road until I could see that there was no
queue of waiting traffic at the check point, then
gunned the motor, and drove straight at the barrier
that was lowered across the road.  Fortunately the SUV
was high off the ground, and the heavy wooden pole
shattered on the bull bars at the front, and there I
was - free!  I could see the Canadian checkpoint up
ahead, but I was out of the USA.  I started to laugh.
I was no longer a slave.  I was free!

There was a sickening bang and the SUV Skidded to a
halt.  I threw open the door and leapt out, to see the
tyres in shreds - they'd raised one of those spiked
strip things and it had taken out all of them.  I
started to run towards Canada, until I heard a
"crack" and I was thrown to the ground.  The pain in
my leg was indescribable where they'd shot me, but I
was so desperate to escape that I started to crawl,
dragging myself along the road, digging my fingernails
in to the surface as I desperately tried to get
purchase.

It was no good, of course, as the border patrol was on
me a few moments later, and they dragged me back.  At
first they were really worried as they thought they'd
shot a free man, but once they'd undone Rob's bit they
eventually learned the truth - mind you, it took some
time as who listens to someone who looks like a slave?
 They called a veterinarian to my wound, but he just
looked at it and said to the guards "It's not worth
fixing.  He's in court later this afternoon, and then
you know what happens....".  Turning to me he went on
"Sorry, boy, but your leg will never heal properly as
the bone's shattered, but I can give you this for the
pain - it ought to last.... I can at least be as
humane as possible, in the circumstances", and slid a
needle into my butt.

I was dreading the thought of the flogging that must
now happen - I wondered how I'd feel with the flesh on
my back and butt shredded, and just sat there in the
cell under the court in absolute misery.  I should
have worried!  If only I'd known!

It was all over in less than five minutes.  I wondered
why they'd even bothered to take me into the Court, as
I wasn't allowed to say anything, and just had to
stand there - slaves are property, after all, and have
no right to speak in a free man's Court. Escaping does
indeed only warrant a flogging, and perhaps a gelding.
 But kidnapping a free man is a capital offence, and
the judge barely listened as Rob stammered out how he
felt sure I'd never do it again, how I'd always been a
good slave until recently, how expensive I was and how
he couldn't afford to replace me if I was killed, and
some other stuff.  "Slave to be publicly executed
tomorrow morning", the judge intoned, and that was
that.

The guards were really kind - giving me this paper and
pen so I could write something for dad.  One of them
is a bit like dad - same age, same build - and it's
almost too much for me to be able to write this as he
sits there watching me.  He's told me that I have to
be watched all the time now as slaves try to kill
themselves rather than face execution, and they need
the occasional one to remind all the other slaves what
would happen to them if they kidnap their masters.  I
told him my leg was hurting like hell again and he
even fetched me a couple of aspirin, telling me that
that was all he could do for me that night - it was
little enough, but the veterinarian was no longer on
duty.

"Boy, you sure fucked it up, didn't you?", he said as
he read the pages I'd been scrawling out.  "College
was only for three years, then you'd have been free of
that Jed... and maybe Rob would have sold you on...."

"But my dick... The docking...."

"He might not have done it.  And you could have done
something else - sent a text to his dad, when Rob
wasn't looking, telling him about the way Rob was
going to reduce your value, for example.  I bet he'd
have called that Rob immediately, and forbidden it.
They were pissed off at him wasting his inheritance
buying you, weren't they?  So they'd have stopped him
wasting more.  Still, too late for that now..."

"What's going to happen to me?"

He looked a little upset.  "You've never seen any of
these executions on the TV?"  I shook my head, and he
went on "Well, it's kind of awkward.  They want to
emphasise that a slave who turns on his master is
nothing better than an animal.  So they put you down,
as if you were an animal."

"You mean an injection, from the veterinarian...?"

"No.  That's for family pets.  You get put down like
they kill animals like sheep, and cattle."

"How's that?"

"You really don't want to know, son... It will upset
you."

"No, tell me.....  I'm tough.  I can take it."   I
wasn't sure about this, but you may as well put a
brave front on.

"Well, early tomorrow, we'll clean you out properly so
you're not full of shit as that upsets the watchers
when your bowels let go after death.  Then we put the
ankle cuffs on you - nice, big, firm ones.  I'm afraid
you're going to be in big trouble with that leg of
yours as when we get you out to the scaffold, we hang
you up, upside down, by those ankle cuffs, and I think
you'll be screaming and hollering as the leg takes the
weight of your body.  But it's only for a moment -
I'll have a word with the slaughter man and when he's
got you right off the ground, I'll ask him to make it
as quick as possible and not keep you hanging there
for the TV cameras - you seem a decent sort of guy,
and I don't believe in cruelty to slaves."

"And then....?"

He looked uncomfortable.  "And then the slaughterman
puts the stun gun to your head, and that's all you'll
know, Steve.  Your body will thrash around a lot as
they slit your throat and all the blood drains out of
you, but we're assured you're right out of it, and you
won't feel a thing."

"That's barbaric, that's...."

"Look, Steve, I told you it would upset you.  But it's
not barbaric at all.  That's the way millions of sheep
and cattle are slaughtered every year.  And a slave
who attacks his owner is considered to be just an
animal, as I said.  Just be grateful you were caught
here, and not in the next county, which has a strong
Jewish element, or twenty miles west, where the Arabs
are...."

I sat there and was so stunned by all of this.  I
heard myself saying  "I should be grateful...?"

"Yes.  The Jews and the Arabs don't use humane
slaughtering methods for sheep - it's just hung there
and they slit its throat without stunning it!
Everyone knows it's just barbaric, but the
bleeding-heart liberals down in Washington won't make
them conform to normal slaughterhouse rules as they
say it's 'religion'.  Even if it was 'religion' I
think they should stop it anyway - superstition surely
can't be a reason for ill treating animals.  But as
they don't stun sheep, they don't stun slaves
either... And you'd hang there, choking in your own
blood."

It's almost time now.  They've put the cuffs on my
ankles, and I can hear the guards coming down the
corridor.  The old guard last night has said he'd try
to get this stuff to you.  Goodbye, mom, goodbye, dad.
 I had a great childhood.  Thank you.  But now I've
grown up, I have to take the consequences.

THE END


Author's note:   On those rare occasions when I kill
off "Steve", my mail box always fills with complaining
and protesting readers who tell me that he "deserved"
to live happily ever after.  This story really can't
end like that though, with a happy ending, can it?  I
mean, if slaves did kidnap their masters and get away
with it, it would be the thin end of the wedge towards
the collapse of the rule of law.  So morality needs,
no, demands, that Steve be properly and justly
punished for his crimes and the ending as written is
what Steve deserves and what society expects.

It is however the season of good will.  Although I
have absolutely no interest in the celebration of
mythical happenings alleged to have taken place years
ago, as a special gift to my more sensitive readers,
I'll do it again......


Part 11

I woke up feeling really great the next morning.  I
gave Rob his breakfast, but the ungrateful bastard
still looked really pissed off as I squeezed the slave
mush down past the bit.  Then I let him shower, and
afterwards I even undid the bit so that he could stand
there and shave properly - it's really hard to do it
past the metal holding pieces, as you probably know.
Of course I was concerned that he'd try to shout or
alert people, so I stood there with his slave prod,
watching him as he worked away.  I don't know if I
could actually have prodded Rob - when it had been
done to me it hurt so much that I'm not sure that I
could easily inflict that kind of agony on another guy
myself.  But he didn't know that, so was just silent
as he made himself look neat, and then knelt there
almost resigned as I clipped the bit back in his
mouth.

"We need you to look well cared for today, Rob", I
told him cheerfully.  "I'm crashing over the border,
and by lunch time both you and I will be free men.  I
expect they'll interview you for the local news and
such, and I'd hate them to think that I mistreated
another guy!"  I was in such a good mood that I even
let Rob wear a pair of his "regular" shorts, as he'd
worn as a free man - there didn't seem to be much
point in exposing him to public humiliation by making
him appear almost naked in slave shorts in a couple of
hours time.

I left him manacled as I went off to breakfast, and
had a really good one - fresh juice, ham, eggs,
toast.... And I left a really generous tip for the
waitress.  This was, after all, the last time I'd be
spending Rob's money and tomorrow I'd need to find a
job, work, and then save, save hard, as I needed to
buy mom and dad from the Colonel.

When we got into the SUV I made sure Rob was really
strapped in well, as I didn't want him to get injured,
and we set off towards the border.  I kind of lurked
in a side road until I could see that there was no
queue of waiting traffic at the check point, then
gunned the motor, and drove straight at the barrier
that was lowered across the road.  Fortunately the SUV
was high off the ground, and the heavy wooden pole
shattered on the bull bars at the front, and there I
was - free!  I could see the Canadian checkpoint up
ahead, but I was out of the USA.  I started to laugh.
I was no longer a slave.  I was free!

I drove now slowly and carefully, and when the
Canadian guard asked to see my passport, I at once
claimed asylum, saying that I was an escaping slave
and that I would like the protection of the Canadian
Government from the cruel and unusual circumstances of
my life in the USA.  He smiled at me, slapped me on
the back and said "Hey, well done!  Welcome aboard, to
the land of the free, the really free!".  He picked up
the phone, dialled something, and said "Another one's
made it over..."

I sat there in his office and he made coffee, then I
said "Oh.... Let's not forget Rob....", and went out
with him to the SUV and freed Rob.  I noticed the
change in the guard's attitude as I undid the bit from
Rob's mouth, and said "Sorry, old buddy, but I had to
bring you through all of this... I needed a mock slave
with me so that the cops and everyone would think my
slave chip was in fact yours.... Still, you'll really
have something to tell the guys at college:  the girls
should be falling over themselves to hear about your
adventures...."

I was totally surprised when the guard grabbed me and
snapped cuffs on me.  I asked him what was the
problem, and he looked at me sternly.  "Kidnapping's a
really serious offence this side of the border too,
you know.  You brought this free man over here cuffed
and muzzled - that's
pretty serious."

"Yes, but I explained.... It was part of my escape
plan.... I couldn't do it without having Rob along,
and he certainly wouldn't come willingly...."

"You're making it worse!", he snapped.  "You're
admitting you knew what you were doing.  This wasn't
just a kidnapping that happened 'accidentally' - as
might be the case when you have to take a victim when
you're surprised in the middle of a crime.  No, this
sounds as if you planned it.  Best to say nothing
more, if you ask me."

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I got an excellent
lawyer.   A really feisty lady from the Canadian
Slaves' Defence League.   My case came up only a week
later, as she pointed out that I had no real defence,
and we needed to throw ourselves on the mercy of the
Court and the sooner it was over, the better.  She
argued with the prosecution's lawyers (Rob's dad paid
big bucks for them, I'd imagine) pointing out that
"crimes" committed south of the border were of no
interest to the Canadian Court, and that if they
wanted to try them, they'd need to apply for
extradition.  But, she went on, the Canadian Courts
had no history of ever agreeing to the extradition of
an escaped slave, as it was well known that a terrible
public execution awaited such men and that as a
signatory to the Convention On Human Rights, the
Canadian Government itself would be breaking the law
if I was sent back to face such an awful punishment.

My spirits rose as I realised I was effectively free,
but Rob's lawyers smoothly moved on to the next charge
on the sheet:  and there was no escaping that!  I'd
actually driven for twenty metres in Canada with Rob
in the SUV.  So I was guilty of kidnapping under
Canadian law, too.  It didn't matter how much my
lawyer argued the point, the facts were
incontrovertible:  there was video footage of me
crossing through the barrier, of driving up to the
checkpoint, and of me helping Rob out of the SUV!

As he handed down sentence the judge remarked that he
thought that it was manifestly unfair, but that he had
no choice:  Canadian law laid down an indeterminate
sentence of "from five years to life" for kidnapping,
and he had to sentence me to that.

Afterwards, as I sat in the cells waiting to be taken
off to the jail, my lawyer came down to see me.
"Pretty tough shit, Steve, but we'll appeal, of
course..."

"And will we win?"

"Probably not.... But it will keep the case in the
public eye, and at least they won't dare keep you
longer than five years.... All you've got to do is
keep your head down below the parapet and not get into
any trouble in prison.  Do you think you can obey all
the rules and stuff for that long?"

I smiled at her.   "Well, I've had a lot of practice.
You forget, I was brought up as a slave!".

To his credit, Rob came down to see me, too.  He
looked through the bars of my cell, and neither of us
really knew what to say.  Finally, I broke the
silence.  "I'm sorry, Rob.  But I had to do it.  You
were going to have me 'docked'.  And this was the only
way I could think of to escape.  But I'm sorry about
the branding, and everything."

He smiled a bit.  "Well, Steve, as you said, at least
I'll have a good story to tell at college.  Most of
the other guys won't have had such an exciting
vacation..."

"...but you won't have time, Rob.... All that work
you'll have to do for yourself now...."

"Oh, I can easily get another slave.  Dad says that
we're insured, and the insurance will pay up as you
escaped.  So it's not worked out too bad, I suppose."

"We were buddies when we were kids,  Rob.  You told
me, shortly after you'd bought me, that everything had
changed as 'you can't be friends with a slave'.  But
we're both free men now...."
He put his hand through the bars.  "That's right.
You're a free man now, Steve.  Well, you've got the
prison term, but free, not a slave."

I gripped it, and we smiled at each other.

"I'll see you in five years, Rob.   You'll have to
come up here though.  I think you and I have a lot of
catching up to do...."

"Yes, Steve.  I always enjoyed those sessions with you
at the lake.  But we're grown up now, and grown men
don't just jerk off!  Take care in prison, Steve - I
want to experience that body of yours again."

He turned and left, and suddenly I felt as if the
future might be bright for me.

The End


Publisher's note:

That marks the end of "Steve Grows Up", the first of
the autobiographical trilogy that continues with
"Steve in Prison" and "Steve in Love", all of which
have been runaway best sellers for Canadian author
Steven Masters.    As readers are almost certainly
aware, Mr Masters began the trilogy whilst
incarcerated for five years following his escape from
slavery, and it is perhaps a tribute to the Canadian
penal system that he was able to pursue his craft so
single-mindedly, in spite of the terrible privations,
humiliation and abuse he suffered whilst in there:
publication of "Steve in Prison" sparked a searching
public enquiry into the operation of Canadian prisons
and their gang culture, and it is hoped that reforms
have taken place since then.

Whilst "Steve in Love" is an uplifting story, the
terrible sadness the Steve feels where, in spite of
his wealth from his books, he is unable to trace and
buy his mother, marks it as one of the great tragedies
of our time (she was sold off shortly after his escape
as being "barren" and past the age when she could
continue to bear new slaves for the Colonel).  Steve
did of course manage to buy his father, and we are all
eagerly awaiting the next volume of the series,
"Steve, Family Man"  where he tells of his current
life with his two sons and their grandfather, and his
life partner, Rob.  It only proves, we think, that
whilst "you can't be friends with a slave", two men
who have been both slaves and free men can find true
happiness.

THE END

Pete Brown.  London And Dublin.   November and
December, 2005.