Date: Sun, 11 Dec 2005 00:03:41 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Grows Up, Part Nine

Steve Grows Up

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part 9


Two days later I was taken to an inspection room
again, and this time I was there before the client.
It was  a guard who took me along, and he told me to
assume the display position, and then tugged at the
legs of my tiny shorts so that they hung "properly".
He seemed to enjoy it - perhaps he didn't often get to
be in such intimate contact with a white guy!   I'd
expected that it would be at least a week before I'd
be on display again as they'd want to give time for
the red stripes of the caning to disappear, so this
really was all most odd - still, perhaps they weren't
going to yank down my shorts, so it wouldn't matter. I
stood there for about ten minutes, I suppose, and then
the same smooth salesman came in... Followed by Rob!

I let go of my hands and stepped forward to greet him.
 "Rob....", I said in total surprise.  I was
so glad to see my old buddy, and knew he must have
come to rescue me.   The next moment I was writhing in
agony on the floor, as the guard ad stepped forward
and just touched my back with a slave prod.  When my
limbs had stopped twitching - well, almost - the guard
shouted at me to stand up and take the position, and
slowly and painfully I got to my feet.

"I'm sorry, sir", the salesman was saying to Rob "But
this slave is still a little troublesome.  He wasn't
bred as normal, but brought up in a family and that
tends to make him a little unpredictable....  When you
telephoned we asked you to delay, sir, as following an
incident earlier in the week he needed discipline,
and, frankly, it deters some buyers when they see the
slave's butt crossed with cane marks...."

"Quite."  Rob's voice was calm.  "I have some
knowledge of this slave as he was allowed to attend
the same school as the rest of us in the neighbourhood
until he reached sixteen, when he was of course taken
away and turned into a proper slave.  He was always a
little headstrong, but the cane marks won't deter me
at all."

"You know the slave, sir...?"

"Yes, and that is why I was interested in acquiring
him.  He's got a good lineage, and with some work to
tame him a little more, will be excellent for my
purposes.  I'm off to college in two weeks, and have
decided I need a slave to keep my clothes neat, to
exercise with, and to do research and so on for my
term papers - I don't want to have to spend all day
studying, when there is the social life to pursue."

The salesman coughed and looked a little embarrassed.
"You do realise, I expect, sir, that this property is
on sale at a very high price?  Nineteen year old
whiteys just don't come to the market that often,
especially not ones like this, with an exceptional
body..."

"Oh yes, but I was left an inheritance by an ancient
aunt recently, and I've decided that I may as well
enjoy it.  I noticed the slave on your site, and
thought how interesting it would be to have someone
with whom I had connections - I used to like him at
school, and so it removes the potential problem of
having a slave you just can't bear around you all the
time."

I thought Rob was just shooting a line to the salesman
by all of this, and that he'd really come to rescue me
but didn't like to admit it, so I started to relax.
Things were definitely looking up.
But then when the salesman asked "Are you ready to
inspect the property, sir", and Rob said "Yes, of
course, be so good as to make him naked", I began to
worry again.

When we were about fourteen Rob's father had started
taking him to slave auctions, and sometimes ,when we
were jerking off, Rob would tell me how his father had
let him help in "inspecting" a potential purchase, and
we'd both found the idea of handling a big strong guy
really sexy.  So I guess Rob had experience of this
type of thing, as he spared me nothing.  His fingers
probed around inside my mouth, to make sure all my
teeth were real and not on some sort of prosthetic
plate (the salesman held a small towel out to him
after this, so he could wipe my saliva off his
fingers), then he expertly "appraised" my upper body
musculature by running his hands all over it, probing
and feeling every major muscle group.  I just stood
there almost numb with shock at the way my old buddy
was treating me, especially when Rob rolled my nips
between his thumb and forefinger to see how they
erected, and was almost laughing as I winced and tried
to back away from him.  Then he dropped to his knees
and felt my thighs and calves, before standing upright
again.

"Superb!", he said.  "He always did have a good body
when I knew him, but these last couple of years he
seems to have been hard at work, and he's now put on a
lot of power all over him.  Now...."

Without even asking or saying anything, Rob grabbed
hold of my dick, and began to stroke it.  I murmured
something to show that I didn't think he ought to be
just doing that to me, and Rob looked into my eyes and
smiled.  "Oh, come on, Steve!  You were happy enough
to have my fingers playing with your dick a couple of
years ago!  Still, they did a good job of 'skinning
you - the shaft is really neat.  No scarring of loose
skin at all. And it does really enhance the look of
you."

I thought it must be over then, until Rob said
casually "Glove?", and then stood there as he pulled a
latex glove over his hand.  He nodded to the salesman,
who ordered me to bend over, and I was flushing with
shame and anger as Rob then probed my asshole with
first his thumb, and then his finger.

"Commendably tight!", was his opinion, and the
salesman agreed.  "However, sir, I think it is only
fair to point out that in our details of this slave we
do say that he seems to be very reluctant to take dick
- that's very unusual for a good looking slave like
this, of course, but I expect it's part of his
upbringing if he wasn't trained as part of a breeding
programme.  But the reputation of Scabbard and Drass
is important to us, sir, and so if you were thinking
of using him sexually, you should consider a
specialised 'transition' course so that he loses his
inhibitions."

"Quite.  But I rather think I might enjoy doing that
myself."

The salesman just stood there expectantly then, and
asked "So, sir, is there anything else, or would you
like to move on to signing the contract?"

"No, I'll take him.  But I don't want to collect him
for two weeks, before I go to college, and in that
time there are a few things to be done.... I assume we
can negotiate terms?"

He and the salesman left, and I stood there still,
wondering that the fuck was happening.  If he was
going to buy me and rescue me, why didn't he take me
there and then and let me spend a couple of weeks with
mom and dad and my brothers and sisters?  And why
hadn't he been more friendly?  I mean, we'd known each
other for years and years, and had been jack-off
buddies....  It seemed strange that he was so distant,
and not at all friendly.

That very afternoon, though, I started to find out
what the "few things" Rob wanted doing were!  It seems
he'd decided that he wanted to see real evidence of a
"six pack" on me, and so all my other exercises were
dropped in favour of endless, endless sit-ups, trunk
curls, and other stuff designed to "tone" me there.
It was pure agony most of the time, and I was never
sure which was worse - the incessant screaming of my
tortured muscles, or the "encouragement" meted out to
me if the exercise faltered or slowed, from the
trainers.  Then there was the slave collar - I'd never
been collared before, as the Colonel didn't consider
it "proper" somehow for a white man to wear a slave
collar.  But even the fitters at Scabbard And Drass
were surprised as it seemed Rob had ordered the
standard, heavy, iron collar for me, one of the kinds
that dad and I used to fix to the niggas every day and
which were held shut with hot rivets.  It seemed that
"fancy" slaves like me, who were to be used as
gentlemen's servants, most often were given silver, or
even gold, collars that were relatively light weight
and were more "tokens" - the standard iron ones being
reserved for field hands and so on.

I think there was a big psychological change in me as
I stood up from kneeling by the anvil where the
fitters had been doing their work - it felt so heavy
around my neck, and cold as it pressed into my skin,
and the weight of it was oppressive.  I could never
doubt now that  I was a slave:  my collar pressed me
down both physically and mentally, and I noticed that
there was a change from the ones dad and I used to fit
to the niggas, in that there were four "D" rings
equally spaced around it.   I asked about this, and
the fitters said it made it easier to attach a leash,
or to hold cuffs at my neck, and this further
depressed me - why on earth would Rob want to do that
kind of thing to me?  But it was the genital ring that
finally made me realise that the Rob who had ordered
this stuff was not necessarily my old buddy any
longer:  a thin stainless steel ring was put around
the root of my dick and underneath my sac, and
squeezed shut and super glued into position - I'd read
about cock rings, and how some guys use them to help
maintain an erection, but now I'd got one fitted
permanently.  I was already prone to erect easily if
stimulated, and now it got worse - any kind of sexy
thought, and I'd feel myself going hard, and then the
damned thing wouldn't easily go down again.  Of
course, to do this they'd had to shave away even the
"slave trim" that was all that was left of my pubes,
and I was now totally and utterly bare down there, so
that the ring could easily be seen, glinting away.
When I looked at myself in the mirror I hardly
recognised the Steve I knew - I was now something
quite different:  shaved, ringed and collared to suit
my owner's whim, and I knew my freedom was totally
gone.

Rob came to collect me personally from Scabbard And
Drass so I was spared another ride in a slave
transporter.  He'd brought along clothes for me, but
as I struggled to get into them I wasn't at all amused
at the practical joke Rob must be trying to play on
me:  there were little satin shorts that rode so low
down that it was just as well that my pubes had been
shaved right off, and I knew the top of my crack was
exposed even when standing up, let alone when I bent
down.  And on top, there was a tiny sleeveless jacket
thing also in satin, that was open up the front (and
couldn't be closed, so a few inches of my chest were
always going to be on show) and which finished about
three inches above my navel, and which bore in big
black letters on the back the word "Slave" in big
letters - as if there'd be any doubt, as no free man
would ever go around exposing his body like this.    I
was fuming as he led me out to the parking lot, and
his big, bright new SUV, especially when he opened the
rear door and told me I had to sit in the back
compartment "as that's where slaves always travel."

"Rob, can we cut it out now, please?  We're buddies...
Can I have some proper clothes, and sit upfront with
you?"

"Steve, I don't think you remember our last
conversation.  I told you then that you ought to call
me 'sir' as I was a free man, and you're not doing it!
 In fact, now that I'm your owner, you should in
future call me 'master'.   You're my slave, I own you,
and if I want to dress you in the latest fashion for
'fancies', I will - I've got a reputation to build at
college, you know!  I want to be one of the guys on
campus that everyone talks about, and who they look to
for 'what's new' and fashionable.   And as for sitting
in the luggage space, well, suppose someone from the
college were going along the same highway and saw us
sitting together?  They'd think I didn't know how to
handle slaves, wouldn't they?"

"But R... Master, we were buddies.... I used to look
out for you when some of the other guys at school were
trying to bully you... We used to jerk off
together..."

"And now we're master and slave, Steve.  I've done my
best, and I think I've repaid all those years of you
'looking out for me'.  Wouldn't you rather be owned by
me, than by some masters - or mistresses - who might
treat you very badly indeed?   And there won't be any
more jerking off, anyway - we're grown men now, and I
fuck properly.  I bought you because I knew your
pedigree, because it reduces the risk of what I was
buying, knowing so much about you.... And because
you've turned into a really stunning piece of male
flesh that I'm going to enjoy, the sort of slave that
a gentleman of fashion would be expected t o own..
But you'd better believe, Steve, that I'm serious
about this - any trouble from you, any trouble at all,
and I won't hesitate to have you caned, or even
flogged:  a lot of guys take their personal slaves to
college these days, and there's even a resident
whipmaster."

We'd gone through the town now and were heading for
the highway, and I tried pleading with Rob.  "Master,
please, could you just stop at the forge, so I can say
goodbye to mom and dad - they'll be worrying about
who'd bought me, and sacred that I'll be shipped miles
away.  Whereas if I'm your slave, I'll be back here
for vacations...."

"Listen, Steve, forget it!  Cut all this crap about
mom and dad - you're a slave, my slave, and you owe
all your duty and loyalty to me, and me alone.  No, I
won't take you back to the forge, as there's no point
as it will only distract you from your new duties.
And you won't be coming back here for vacations
anyway, as at the college they will board you and pay
me a small hire fee so you can work away around the
campus doing repairs and maintenance.  I'll be
travelling extensively, I expect, and I can't take you
to Europe anyway as they don't allow slaves there."

"But master..."

"One more word, Steve, and I'll stop this thing right
now and give you a prod with the slave prod - I've
bought one of those, too, and I won't hesitate to use
it on you.  You've got to start thinking like a proper
slave, Steve, because, as I said, I've invested in you
to make a statement on campus.... And I want the other
students to be impressed by me as a slave owner, not
laughing about the fact that my slave is unruly and
uppity, even though he is stunningly good to look at!
So shut the fuck up - and perhaps you'd better reflect
on that old saying 'you can't be friends with a
slave'.  I think that's so true, Steve - I'm your
owner now, and the rules have changed."

With that Rob flicked on the CD to some of the awful
pulsing rock he liked, and further conversation was
impossible anyway.  And he played it at full volume
for the next couple of hours, all the way to his
college, and apart from the fact that I hated the
music, it was pretty grim for me as the rear speakers
were right next to where I was cramped up in the
luggage space!

Rob just left me locked in the SUV whilst he went off
to register, and as the sun was out, it soon got
fucking hot in there. One of the windows was open a
crack, and I was forced to do what you see dogs doing
in cars - desperately pushing my nose to the crack so
I could get as much cool air from outside in as
possible.  Even so, I was soaking in sweat by the time
Rob came back, and to add to my other miseries about
my skimpy clothing, the satin had gone more or less
translucent with the perspiration - I guess it was
just a well I was basically smoothly shaved all over
the area the shorts attempted to cover, as seeing the
brown of my skin through the satin wasn't as bad as
also seeing a big clump of wiry pubes.

He just did nothing - I was supposed to get the first
load of stuff out of the SUV and follow Rob as he
strode towards the dorm, and when we found his room he
selected one of the two beds in there, and airily told
me to start hanging up his clothes, and then to go and
fetch the rest of the stuff!  He lay there watching me
as I worked away, but there always seemed to be
something wrong - the hangers weren't lined up, or the
socks were not supposed to be in the same drawer as
his underwear....    By the time I had struggled up
the stairs with the fifth and final load, there was
another guy in the room - a huge guy, bigger than me,
and strongly muscled.

"Jed, this is my slave I was telling you about - he's
called Steve.  And if you want him to do anything for
you, just tell him.  As we're roomies, you'd better
use him as if he was yours."

"Hey Rob, you're a real gentleman!  My old man
wouldn't let me bring my own body slave with me as he
said it was 'character forming' if I had to do all my
own ironing and shit like that.  And I've got enough
to do - the football team here is really serious, and
I'll be practising every afternoon and evening.... I
think they might only have taken me as they want me on
the team, as my grades weren't particularly good."

Rob just looked at me, and snapped "Go down with
master Jed and fetch his stuff up, too.  And be quick
about it...."

So five more loads of stuff to carry, and all this
seemed much heavier than Rob's as Jed was so big, and
because he had a whole lot of stuff like helmets and
pads and so on that weighed a ton.  In-between times I
caught snatches of conversation between Rob and Jed,
and Jed was patiently explaining that at his high
school the clever guys did all the term papers for the
football players, and that he expected Rob to do the
same - that's why they'd put he and Rob in the same
room, rather than putting him in with another member
of the team.  Rob equally patiently was explaining
that this wasn't going to happen, as he, Rob, didn't
intend to do much work anyway as he was really here
for the social life.  I deliberately held back in the
corridor as Jed casually reached over and grabbed
Rob's shirt, pulling him to his feet and holding him
close.  "Look, Rob, I don't want to labour the point,
but I'm a footballer.  And if you give me any trouble,
I'm bigger, and stronger.... And my other team mates
won't be too pleased, either.  So we'd better
understand that I need good grades, and it's your job
to get them..."

I went in then, and the two men stood there glaring at
each other.  "Get out and find the slave quarters,
Steve", Rob snapped.  "I won't need you tonight, but
find out how to wake me with coffee at seven.  And for
master Jed."

I turned and went, but I heard Jed laugh at Rob "You
can't even control a slave properly - if my body slave
had ever left like that, with out saying 'Yes, master,
as you order', I'd have had him across my knee and
spanked his butt until he was screaming for mercy.
Still, he's a nice looking guy, with a cute butt.
Does he fuck well?"

I stopped and pressed myself close to the still open
door.  "Oh sure.  A really tight ass.  But he can be
difficult, as he doesn't really like it."

Jed laughed again.  "Where did you grow up, Rob?  On
our demesne it wasn't whether the niggas liked a dick
up their asses or not - they're slaves,  right?
What's liking got to do with it?"

All of this made it sound as if  life at college was
not going to be easy, and it was with some trepidation
that I went off to find the slave quarters - there was
a nigga in the corridor, collared as I was, so I asked
him and he took me down to the basement and into a
very small room next to the laundry, which was
apparently where the slaves brought by students were
meant to live.  It was clean enough, I suppose, and
there were bunk beds stacked three high along one
wall, with an opening leading into what was obviously
a communal shower and shitter.  The only light in the
room though was from a single, low-wattage bulb in the
ceiling (I don't suppose they thought slaves would
wish to read in bed!), except that which came in from
a narrow window high up near the ceiling - too high to
see out of.  All in all, it was pretty depressing, but
I soon found out that there were only four of us
personal slaves in the building and so it wasn't as
bad as it might have been.

My life settled down to a routine of hell:  every
morning I had to be up, showered and shaved so that  I
could run over to the coffee place in the main
building and run back with fresh coffee for Rob and
Jed by seven - the place didn't actually open until
seven, and I tried explaining this to Rob, but he
fucking didn't care.  So I had to be there at least
twenty minutes before so I could be at the front of
the line waiting for it to open, and even then,
however hard I ran, I was still "late" which Rob then
used as a reason for punishing me if I did anything
else wrong later in the day!

Both of them liked to be sucked free of their morning
erections as they lay there watching the TV news and
sipping their coffee, and after they'd ambled off to
the showers they'd come back and dress ready for the
day - Rob was an absolute pain as he'd frequently
change his mind about which shirt or sweater he was
going to wear, and just dump the rejects on the floor,
and that all added to the work load on me as he
insisted that all the stuff in his closet was freshly,
crisply ironed.

Rob went to the classes that interested him, but Jed
spent most of the day at the gym or on the field, and
Rob and Jed  seemed to have reached agreement on how
Jed's class work was going to be done by simply
telling me that I was responsible for it.  As, indeed,
I was for all the research and first drafts of Rob's
own term papers.  So most of the day I was stuck on
the PC, frantically researching and hacking some sort
of stuff together, except, that is, when I was doing
the laundry, ironing all their stuff, making the beds,
and all the other crap they couldn't be bothered with.
 Sometimes Jed would come back at lunchtime as he was
horny, and then I soon discovered that protesting
about being fucked was not an option - the first time
he tried it and I demurred, he told me that Rob had
said he could use me as a slave, and that he always
fucked his body servant at home.  Then, when I still
refused, he stormed out, to come back with some of his
buddies from the football team.

Having three of them fuck me - especially after Jed
had caned me six times as his buddies held me down on
the bed - taught me not to argue with him about things
like that, and so at least four times a week he took
his pleasure of me.  When Rob saw this, he too seemed
to pluck up courage and used me most nights as well.
And, of course, the slightest failure on my part - a
low grade, work not completed on time, a shirt of item
of football kit not immaculately pressed - and both
of them seemed to relish having me bend over the bed
so they could use a paddle on me (Rob had become
concerned after the first few times Jed caned me, as
he said that he didn't want the skin and muscle of my
butt damaged irreparably as it would reduce my value).


I hardly got to go out, and my fitness was falling
away, I know, until Rob decided to take up swimming
"seriously" again and at least, then, I got to do some
stuff.  He liked to race against someone, and at the
times he used the pool most of the other guys were in
class, and so he hit on the simple solution of taking
me as his opponent.  Although I relished the exercise,
it was dreadful as it further cut into the time I
needed to do the other stuff and so I had to work on
way into the night sometimes.  But what was worse was
that Rob decided I didn't need a costume:  "You're a
slave, Steve, and it's OK for slaves to be naked on
campus", he said airily. "I allow you to wear stuff
normally, but here in the pool, it's ridiculous!"

It was true, I suppose - the lifeguards and the other
guys who did stuff like clean the pools and keep the
changing areas tidy were all naked niggas, but when I
first went out from the changing room into the pool
area some of the girls who were in there swimming
shrieked and pointed, as they thought I was a free
man!  Rob, the bastard, used it as a means of getting
to know them as he went up to them and told them that
it was  OK as I was a slave.  Then he'd call me over
and I had to stand there as he pointed out my collar -
and then couldn't resist drawing attention to the
metal ring around my dick and balls that was keeping
me half-hard!  It was good to be able to swim naked,
though and it wasn't just the thought that I wasn't
quite as "different" when I was in the water as out of
it that made it good - no, I enjoyed the feeling of it
rippling all over me, especially my dick and balls.

Rob always won our "races", though, as I was seriously
hampered by the heavy metal collar around my neck.
Not only did it destroy my natural rhythm, but I had
to exert a whole lot of extra effort in actually
staying afloat - with that weight, I was no longer
naturally buoyant and it took constant effort to stop
myself drowning.

About the only bit of pleasure I got at college was
with my fellow slaves, down in our cramped basement
room at night -  and even then, not every night.  Like
me, they were generally so tired from the constant
work that it took a huge effort o decide that we'd get
together and fuck.

Still, I was looking forward to the break, as surely
I'd get a chance to see mom and dad and the kids.  But
after I'd got all Rob's stuff packed and taken it -
and all of Jed's - down to their cars, Rob had another
surprise for me!  Instead of heading for the highway
home, he went to the other side of the campus to the
"General Services"  building, where I found out that
he'd decided to hire me out, as he'd said he would
that first day,  to the college during the break.  I
was sad about not seeing mom and dad, of course, but
the life wasn't all that bad, I suppose - well, not
after I'd got used to being coffled!   On the work
details around the campus as we swept the parking lots
and dug over the flower beds and all that kind of
stuff, we were coffled together with a chain through
our collars - and worked naked, of course, as it was
easier for the supervisor to "encourage" us with the
tawse that way as so much more of our flesh was easily
accessible. It wasn't the actual nudity I minded - I
supposed I'd got  used to that by now, and, anyway,
there weren't all that many people around to see - but
how would you feel, the only white guy chained in a
coffle with seven niggas?   Mind you, after the
unrelenting work for Rob and Jed, this wasn't so bad -
sure, it was tiring physically, but once the coffle
chain had been pulled through our collars at night and
we were safely locked in the communal sleeping cage,
we were still "fresh" mentally.  And, as usual in
life, I discovered that a guy who's got a nice big
dick and who knows how to use it, and who enjoys using
it, is very much in demand!

So this was my life -  acting as slave to Rob and Jed,
doing all their personal stuff and most of their class
work, then working like a nigga (literally!) in the
breaks.  But  I think the thing Rob most enjoyed was
having me "around" - not as a buddy, but as the
ultimate status symbol to say to folk what a neat kind
of person he was.  As I've mentioned, there weren't a
whole lot of personal slaves around the place anyway,
and at least for the first few months, I was certainly
the only "whitey".  At the pool, or at any of the
innumerable parties that Rob liked to go to and which
I also had to attend (so I could just stand there at
slave rest, against the wall, ready to "help" Rob home
as he usually got very drunk indeed), I was a great
"conversation piece" and Rob used me shamelessly as a
means of chatting up the women.  I soon found out that
all these "southern belles" liked nothing more than to
be able to run their fingers over the skin of a real
man, or gently touch my nips, or feel the outline of
my dick through the thin satin of my shorts, and Rob
was happy for them do to this as long as they then
went off to dance with him, or make out.

The problem with being a status symbol, though, is
that it doesn't necessarily last!   As it got towards
the end of the first year several other "whiteys" had
started to appear around campus, and even though Rob
tried to make me "different" by deciding that I should
go naked all the time, my uniqueness - and his status
- was evaporating and people started to see Rob as the
shallow person he was. It secretly amused me to watch
his increasingly desperate efforts to talk to the
women at parties as I stood there against the wall,
especially when some of them kind of "took pity" on me
and came over and gave me little cocktail savouries or
potato chips to eat.  When Rob saw them doing this he
stormed over and forbad me to eat them, and that only
made him look more of a heel.

Rob's kind of crafty, though, and when he started to
spend a lot of time on the PC himself, telling me to
get out of the room as he did so, I began to wonder
what he was up to.  When he'd gone out one morning,
therefore, I risked a beating that night as I'd be
behind in my normal work by browsing the cache on the
PC for pages he'd retrieved, and then using one of
those special programs that goes through the mail logs
and "recovers" supposedly deleted messages.  I broke
out with a cold sweat of horror at what I found.

Firstly, he'd been to a whole lot of sites like "Calm
Your Slave!" And "Slave Decoration And Body
Modification Magazine."  It seems that what this lot
were peddling now for the "advanced" slave owner was
the concept they called "docking" - in the sense that
you'd dock the tail of a dog!  The gist of the
argument was that if you had an "uppity" slave who was
reluctant to obey orders, the traditional way of
dealing wit h it was simply to geld him, which
appeared to be "guaranteed" to calm him down.  But, as
they went on "There are problems.  Gelded slaves can
become fat and slothful as their male hormones drain
away, and the perfection of their muscles can be
adversely affected.  No owner wants all the fuss and
expense of constant hormone injections, especially as
if these are not judged correctly, the slave will no
longer be 'calmed'.  No, the solution is docking -
remove the penis of the slave, so he can no longer
jerk off or fuck.  The slave's testicles continue to
produce semen, which the slave is no longer able to
release by stimulation.  The slave will become willing
and obedient as his only hope of relief is for his
master to fuck him, so that the action of the master's
penis on the slave's prostate will trigger relief.  A
slave who relies on his master like this will be
highly motivated to obey, and obey willingly, all his
master's orders."

"Slave Decoration" added that "A docked slave will be
the 'must have' accessory for next season - why have
just a brand or a tattoo, when you can show your
complete mastery of the male slave by displaying him
naked, without even a dick to hide his balls?  Docking
is especially effective for slaves with large, low
hanging balls, as these are then completely accessible
to the eye and can no longer nestle behind the penis."
 My own large, low-hanging balls made up their minds
to pull up into my body as I read this!

I read on "Simple!  Cheap!  An easy operation for your
local veterinarian.  And no complications - the salve
can still urinate through the stub, and there's no
risk of unsightly dribbles of urine as the flow is
controlled from the bladder."  And, worse, and  I
could see why Rob was interested now "Why don't you
become the first owner in your area to have a slave
docked?  Show how progressive you are, by using the
latest techniques for slave control.  Meet new people,
as you explain what has gone on..."

In the e-mails there was a note from Rob to the
veterinarian at home, enclosing the stuff from these
sites, and saying that when we got home for the summer
vacation Rob would like it done to me!  I was really
sweating now, but calmed down a bit when I eventually
found the reply.  "Rob - I'm sorry, but I am unable to
comply with your request.  In the same way that
responsible veterinarians refuse to dock the tails of
dogs, so also do we refuse to remove the dicks from
slaves.  Dogs rely on their tales to help them express
their personality, and in the same way, a slave needs
a dick so that he maintains an image of himself as a
man, albeit a very subservient one.  If Steve really
is a problem - and I'm surprised at that, as he always
seemed to be perfectly respectful and obedient when he
was at the forge - I am of course willing to perform a
routine 'calming' by the removal of one, or both,
testicles as this is a standard, recognised veterinary
practice.  Done properly and sensitively, the
appearance of the slave need not even be affected as
the sac can be slit from the rear, the testicle(s)
removed, and replaced by prosthetic ones before the
sac is sewn up.  Let me know what you think."


Rob had declined, thank god! And  I was starting to
calm down, when I found the same correspondence with a
veterinarian in the next town , who evidently did not
have the same moral scruples!  Further notes revealed
that Rob was planning to have me sliced off down to no
more than half an inch, and that provided it was done
in the first week or so of the summer vacation, there
would be no unsightly scarring by the time we came to
return to college.

It was therefore with very mixed feelings that I
packed up both guys' stuff and carried it down to the
parking lot, and then got into the luggage compartment
of Rob's SUV.  I was really desperate to see dad and
mom again, but was he really serious about this
docking stuff?  Surely he knew that he'd be taking
thousands of dollars off my value, as I'd certainly be
no use for breeding!

There seemed to be some sort of row going on between
Rob and his parents when we arrived home - he
evidently had not told them before that he'd used some
of his inheritance to buy me - they'd been pretty
pissed off, it seems, at the waste of a brand new SUV,
but a slave was too much.  Especially a slave like me,
top of the range, exotic, and expensive!  I remembered
how nice Rob's mom had been to me when I was a kid
(although she'd changed when I became a "proper" slave
at sixteen), but now she was really hostile, and it
was so unfair as it wasn't my fault, was it?  And I
heard Rob and his dad having a furious row about the
fact that he and his mom had been disturbed the
previous night when Rob had noisily fucked me in his
bedroom, before sending me down to the slave quarters.
 Rob's dad said that no son of his was going to fuck
under his roof until he was married, and Rob countered
by saying that of course he wouldn't fuck a girlfriend
there until they were married, but that what he'd done
was merely "used a slave", which was really only just
like jerking off, and surely his father didn't want to
forbid that, did he?

Still, I felt "safe" with Rob's parents around as they
were so cross with him at having "wasted" his money on
me that I knew he wouldn't dare do the "docking thing"
and really reduce my value.  I didn't get to see mom
and dad, though, as Rob kept me pretty busy keeping
his clothes neat and tidy, and in exercising by
swimming in the lake, and he even went so far as to
say that if he caught me sneaking off up there, he'd
order me to be whipped, as I needed to remember that
my loyalty was totally to him now.  I realised this
state of affairs wasn't going to last, though, when
Rob's mother's maid and his father's valet came down
to the slave quarters and started complaining about
all the extra work in getting out the trunks for their
master's and mistress's trip to Europe.  I just knew
that as soon as their car drove off to the airport,
Rob would be driving me in the SUV to the veterinarian
in the next town.

End Of Part Nine.