Date: Sun, 13 Nov 2005 10:00:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve's First Job, Part Six

Steve's  First Job   by Pete Brown    petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 6


Stu:  Hey, I've had a great day!  Rather than wait
whilst the mechanics at the depot got their lazy asses
together and found time to assemble my dray, I decided
to let my slaves do it.  Funny that - I've started to
think of them as "my" slaves, even though they belong
to the company.  Maybe this bonding thing is getting
to me, and it's some sort of two-way process.  Anyway,
rather than have them waste another day on the
exercise machines, I told them they could put the dray
together themselves, and before long all eight of them
were swarming over the packing crate it arrived in,
then beginning to assemble it.  It was kind of erotic,
actually, to see eight totally nude guys working away
- I mean, I'd been used to seeing them exercise and so
on, but that's really different from seeing guys
WORKING in the buff!  For one thing, there's always an
interesting interplay of muscles as they move their
bodies in all sorts of ways, and for another, there
are some parts of every task where two or more of them
need to work closely together and so their bodies are
touching.  Add in a generous helping of sweat, as some
parts of the dray, like the flat-bed and the axles,
are really heavy, and you have the perfect recipe for
making my shorts tent out very visibly.

It took the most of the morning - you know how it is
with any kind of "flat pack" stuff:  there's a set of
instructions that appear to have been translated from
Japanese from someone without a command of either
Japanese or English!  So there were lots of false
starts, with bits being attached in the wrong way and
so on.  But, as I watched, it became clear that order
was being created and things were progressing - two
had the instructions in his hands and was rapping out
orders to the others, who were obeying him.  I guess
it was his background as a sergeant that naturally
made him assume control of "his" squad, and I have to
say it really did work to get the task completed. 
Mind you,  I wasn't all that happy about seeing two
begin to reassert himself, after I'd taken so much
trouble to "tame" him and make him a slave just like
the others.

When it was done I was especially pleased to see the
slaves taking a real pride in their work - they didn't
just assemble the dray, but went over to the workshops
and borrowed buckets, cleaning rags and polish, and
gave the whole thing a thorough going over so that it
absolutely sparkled and shone in the sunlight - it
must be the military's love of "spit and polish"
coming through, I think.  I was so pleased that I told
them to kneel, and went along the line giving them one
of my "slave treats" as a reward.  

I was feeling a bit sweaty and anxious, actually, as
the time had come and I couldn't delay taking them out
for their first run pulling the dray.  I'd known that
this was always going to happen of course, but I'd
sort of pushed thinking about it to the back of my
mind - there's a lot of worry, if you are really
concerned:  Will the slaves perform properly?  Will
they try to escape?  Will they be rude to the
customers and passers by?  Will they obey my orders
properly?  Will I be able to exert the proper control
over them in the streets as I've done in the depot?  
It's a big responsibility, you know - these eight big,
tough, strong slaves , and the reputation of the
Company riding on them as we get a lot of our business
from repeat customers, and we don't want to upset them
in any way whatsoever.

Whilst the slaves knelt there I went along the line
and muzzled them - it's a bit of a matter of choice,
as some draymen always muzzle their slaves, and some
don't.  I thought I would, at least initially, as it
takes away one of the potential sources of difficulty
in that whatever else happened it would prevent the
slaves from being rude to people in the streets.  It
was a real shock for them, though:  the muzzles we use
are specially designed to allow them to breathe freely
as they're working hard, so there's a circular plate
with a hole in it that fits over the front top and
bottom teeth and prevents the slave from totally
closing his mouth, and at right angles to that there's
a flat plate that stretches into his mouth and keeps
his tongue pressed down.  The combination of not being
able to fully close the mouth and the depressed tongue
means that any attempts at speech just come out as
mumbled garbage!  There's a trick to getting the thing
fitted, though, as you have to get the slave to fully
open his mouth to get the circular part over the
teeth, and once you've got this done you take the side
bars - flexible metal, rather like the arms on
spectacles -  around his head and snap them shut at
the back, locking them closed.  Once you've done that
the slave can't get the plate off his teeth or tongue,
and it's all done.  I have to say that I fumbled the
first few I did and it took much longer than it should
have done, but when I got to two I was pretty
proficient, and I really didn't deserve the cruel
looks he gave me as I took away his power of speech.

I lined them up and took then back to the shitter
next, as I didn't want any unfortunate incidents on
our first trip out, and, to tell you the truth, Stu,
I'd forgotten to ask Jon what we did about slaves who
needed to crap or piss whilst we were out working. 
None of them crapped, as they were all now used to the
concept of regular feeding and regular crapping, but
most of them pissed, so it was worth  the effort.  I
led them back out to the dray and for this first time
I had them lined up numerically - one and two on the
front left pushing bars, with three and four on the
front right;  and five and six behind one and two, and
seven and eight behind three and four.  They all stood
there, their hands gripping the pushing bars in front
of them, and I could see them wrapping their fingers
around the smooth polished wood, as if they knew that
this was going to be where they would be for many
hours from now on.  We were almost ready for "the
off", but I had one more thing to do:  as they stood
there, I went around taking a tether chain from its
attachment on the dray through the "D" rings on each
slave's collar in turn, closing the loop by attaching
the other end back to the tethering point.  There was
now no possibility of the slaves escaping or even
moving more than a couple of feet away from the dray. 
Equally importantly, they would see themselves as part
of the "system": the dray and slaves joined together
practically by the chain, but symbolically binding
them into their servitude as part of the whole; they
were no more important than the dray itself.  Of
course you can't work like this in practice, so the
tether chain is really only useful in training:  Jon
says that some draymen never get to trust their slaves
and therefore have to deliver the packages themselves,
some allow one or two slaves not to be tethered so
they can do deliveries, rotating the "free" slaves
daily, but all of this makes more work fro the
drayman.  Good draymen have their slaves properly
trained so that the tether chain is only used as a
mark of shame after some unfortunate incident, and all
eight slaves can participate in heavy or bulky
deliveries if necessary.  Naturally I want to be the
best, so my slaves will eventually stand there freely
by the pulling bars, but for now, they would be
tethered.

I climbed up into the driving seat and cracked my whip
a few times experimentally - not to strike them,
you'll be glad to hear, Stu, but to let them get used
to the whistling sound it makes in the air and the
"crack" the leather end can make if you jerk your
wrist back properly.  Then I gave them the order to
move forwards, and with a fair degree of accuracy, we
headed for the depot gates.    I can tell you, Stu, I
was really excited to be taking my dray and these
magnificent slaves out for the first time - it was
just like when dad bought me my first car, and when he
then gave me the trap and slave I now prefer to use,
only more so!   But as we got to the gates and they
opened and the slaves saw the busy highway thronged
with cars, trucks, and cycles, with the pedestrians
all over the sidewalks, they faltered:  I think it
suddenly occurred to them that they were going to be
very publicly visible, very much "on display".  They'd
got used to being naked around the depot, in the cage
and on the training machines, but now the realisation
was striking them that their naked bodies, clothed
only in their collars and cock rings, were utterly and
totally exposed to all these people; and there was
nothing they could do about it, as they were tethered
to the dray, and they had to keep their hands on the
pushing bars and certainly could not even attempt to
cover their genitals!   It ought to be a valuable
lesson for them on their road to total slavery, as
they came to realise that all a slave needs is his
collar - a slave has no reason to be modest, no need
to be ashamed of his body.  If his owner decides that
he should appear naked, it should be no concern of the
slave as he is merely obeying his owner's
instructions.

Anyway, they had their concerns and fears, and I had
mine.  I told them to pull out into the traffic, and
turn left as we were going to head downtown.  They
looked at each other, knowing they were going to
achieve maximum public exposure that way, but there
was nothing to be done, was there?  Especially when I
cracked my carriage whip a couple of times in the air
above their heads, to remind them I was firmly in
control.  I may have looked it, in my uniform, sitting
up there on the high seat, but inside I was almost as
scared as they were, but in different ways.  A dray
with its team of slaves on the pole out front is long
and big, and it's fairly slow to react - the slaves
just can't accelerate out of a potential problem, as
you can in a car.  Could I control these men, avoid
danger to them and to  other users of the highway?   I
decided to set a stiff pace right from the outset, and
ordered a light jog, and by the time we'd gone through
the seven sets of lights into the downtown area, they
were sweating almost as much as I was!  Fortunately
for them, perhaps, the lunchtime rush was over so
there weren't that many pedestrians to look at them as
we bowled along, neatly in step (all that military
training coming out again), and by the time we were
out on to River Road I felt much more confident and in
control. 

As you know, Stu, I've had my own trap for a  year,
and I'd got used to the slave being able to take me
more or less wherever I wanted to go in the
neighbourhood with only minimal commands.  I once
tried to drive a real trap, with a real horse, on a
"dude ranch" on vacation, and it was so difficult and
frustrating:  you have to guide the fucking thing
every inch of the way with the reins, and you can't
enjoy the scenery or anything.  A slave pulling the
trap is so much better (and your view of the slave's
ass is so much nicer than the great rump of a horse!),
and I suppose I'd though that driving the dray would
be very much like that - I'd tell the slaves where to
go, and that would be it.   But of course it's all
different in the heart of the city, as in going from
the depot to "point A", there are different
possibilities, and all the way along, given the mostly
grid pattern of our streets, someone has to decide
when to take a turn and when to continue straight
on.... you can't rely on the slaves to do it, as there
are eight of them and one might think that turning
into fourteenth street is a good idea, whereas another
might think it's a better idea to go on to fifteenth
street before turning.  So driving the dray is much
more of a "hands on" experience than driving the trap,
and I needed to keep my wits about me.  There are
compensations, though:  instead of just one slave,
you've now got eight beautiful bodies with big strong
muscles working away in front of you!

I hadn't really meant to on this first trip, but once
you're on River Road it's easy to find yourself
suckered on to the off ramp for Piney Hills Road, and
as we began the much steeper ascent I wished there had
been an easy turn-off - but it's a divided highway, if
you remember, for the first mile or so, and so I had
no opportunity to turn around and we had to continue. 
The slaves were really starting to sweat now as it's
one thing to jog along on the level, and quite another
to jog up Piney hills Road, and I would have allowed
them to slow down a bit except that I didn't want to
delay the following traffic too much:  my dray has the
company name and an 0800 number on the back, and I
didn't want a string of complaints going back to base
from those drivers and their cell phones!  So the
slaves had to keep on jogging, and as they did begin
to tire, they also started to slow down - I hadn't
meant to, as I said, but there was little practical
choice but to use my carriage whip for what it was
intended, and I lashed out at the butts of the four
corner slaves -  one, four, five and eight - to remind
them that they needed to keep up the pace, and then,
of course, I needed to do two three, six and seven as
well, as they also needed "encouragement".  And before
you criticise me, Stu, let me remind you tat this is a
CARRIAGE whip, as I said, not a bullwhip.  It stings -
stings pretty badly,  I should say, judging by the way
the slaves jerk forward as it makes contact with their
bare flesh - but it does no permanent damage.  There's
a red mark on the skin, of course, but that fades
within a few hours, and other than that there's no
harm done. 

We've played there often enough, Stu, so you should
remember that there's a turn off for Piney Hills Golf
club about half way along Piney Hills Road, and so I
allowed them to pull in there to get off the main
highway.  We went up the drive and into the parking
lot, and I allowed the slaves to rest, and got down to
take a look at them.  It's a bit odd, really, to see
them with these metal rings around their mouths and
the "wings" holding them in place,  but they were
doing their jobs in that the slaves were breathing
freely.    We stood there for a few minutes and I
noticed that the slaves were looking at the caddies in
their enclosure at the edge of the parking lot - it
occurred to me then that these ex-soldiers probably
would never have played at an exclusive course like
Pine Hills as they couldn't afford the fees (and when
we went there, I always had to pay for you, if you
remember, Stu), and so they would not have seen before
the way that caddies are dressed at places like Piney
Hills - or, rather, should I say "undressed"!  Do you
remember, Stu - they're totally naked, with only that
small strip of hair on their heads and that stripe
running down their heads, arms, bodies and legs?  And
the chain "waistcoats" that you can holster your clubs
in, and which keep the caddies' arms neatly at their
sides?  I said to my slaves "See, guys, you could have
a worse job that being in the dray - how would you
have liked it to have been inked like that when you
were their age?"  They couldn't reply, of course, but
I think it's important to communicate with your slaves
every now and then, just to show them you're
interested in them.

It wasn't busy at Piney Hills that afternoon as rain
was threatened, and the parking lot was mostly empty. 
It seemed to me therefore to be a good opportunity for
the slaves to practice reversing the dray - it's not
that easy, as the main pulling pole isn't rigidly
attached to the dray but has a swivel fixing.  So when
the slaves move backwards, the dray tends to move in
the opposite direction - it's like trying to reverse a
car with a trainer on it!  I knew that when we were
"working for real" we'd often end up in confined
spaces, and one-way streets and things like that, and
so the slaves needed to have good control and be able
to manoeuvre the dray in tight places.  This was an
ideal opportunity to practice, and I spend a couple of
hours with them turning the dray in tight circles, and
reversing it in to small spaces, which I marked out
with  piles of stones.  I was glad to see how their
confidence increased as we practised, and we were
making real progress when the first drops of rain
started to fall out of the sky.

It's not too bad for me - underneath the seat there's
a waterproof for the driver, and a hat:  it's like a
big, long poncho that I simply pulled over my head and
which was long enough so that when I was sitting down
my whole body was covered, and the hat had a really
broad brim all the way around to deflect the rain onto
the shoulders of the poncho and not allow it to
trickle down my neck.  Rain is hard for the slaves,
though, on their naked bodies:  it's like trying to
work in a running shower constantly, except that the
water is cold, and with the big drops we get down
here, they sting the skin when they hit.  I could see
the slaves already looking very uncomfortable as we
set off, and before long, when it really began to pour
down, I really did feel sorry for them as they looked
so miserable.  There was nothing to be done, though,
as it looked as if the rain had set in for the day so
there was no point in taking shelter, and, anyway,
once we were working "for real" that would never be an
option as all our deliveries are timed and you can't
take a beak and wait for the rain to pass over.  They
might as well get used to our working conditions, and
so I cracked the whip to indicate that they should
move up from a jog to a run, as I thought it would be
preferable to get the journey over as quickly as
possible.  We got caught up in the traffic downtown,
though, as it always snarls up when it rains as you
probably remember, and as we stood there in an almost
stationary queue of traffic, I could see them starting
to shiver as the cold rain cooled their skins down.  

By the time we got back to the depot the rain was
running off them - none of them was even vaguely erect
in spite of their cock rings and the running, and the
water was trickling off the end of their dicks just as
if they were pissing.   After we'd backed the dray
into the storage building - I was proud of this, as
even some experienced draymen find this bit difficult
- I leapt down and went and undid the chain holding
them to the dray, and pulled it trough their collars
so they were free.  They're supposed to stand there
until given the order to "dismiss", of course, but I
didn't have the heart to even think about disciplining
them when they quickly huddled all together, running
their hands all over each others bodies in a frantic
effort to get some warmth back into themselves.  So
even though there was no need to, as they were clean
enough from the rain, I marched them over to the
showers and let them stand there under the hot water
until they looked a lot better - at least with their
gags still in they couldn't be accused of that thing
that happens when you're frozen - there was no
chattering of teeth!

Although it was still early there didn't seem much
point in doing anything else that day in the rain, and
I decided I'd quit early so that I could make it back
home - I'd had a good day, and I wanted to tell dad
about it - so I decided to feed them then and not wait
until their regular feeding time.  So I had them kneel
in their feeding line, and as I was pleased with them
I popped a "slave treat" into each of them before I
inserted the feeder tube.  That's one advantage of
these gags with the hole in them - you can feed the
slaves without needing to remove the gag.

When I'd finished, I ordered them into their cage, and
they all stood there looking at me as I locked the
gate, their mouths held open in that big "O" shaped
rictus.  Two pointed at his mouth and made a kind of
desperate sound, and I went over to him.  He gestured
frantically at his gag, indicating that he wanted it
out, and I gestured to him to turn around and used the
special key from my belt to undo the straps holding it
in.  He almost tore the gag out of his mouth, and
stood there looking at me.  "Yes, two, you need to say
something?"  He looked astonished, and burst out "Sir,
you can't be planning to keep us like this over night.
 It's bad enough being gagged and chained to the dray
during the day... But keeping us gagged all the time,
sir.... It's treating us like animals!".  I looked at
him and said quietly "Two, you just don't get it, do
you?  You are animals - slaves.  You have no need to
speak normally, and so why shouldn't you be gagged? 
It saves me the worry that you might have some
unseemly outburst like this, and upset the customers. 
It doesn't interfere with me feeding and watering you
as the feeder and water tubes go through the hole in
the middle, and so where's the problem?"

He just slumped, as if my logic was irresistible, and
said quietly now "Sir, please don't treat us like
this.  We are men, just like you, sir, and we like to
talk to each other at night....".  I stopped him
abruptly right there.  "You are NOT men, two.  You are
slaves.  And I have decided that my slaves are going
to be silent, and so for a few days at least I'm going
to keep you gagged -  I may decide that you're all
calm enough at some point to be allowed to go
ungagged, but that's my decision.  However it does
occur to me that you were good today in supervising
the other slaves to assemble the dray, and it was
useful to be able to speak.  So although I'm going to
keep the other slaves gagged, you may leave yours off
so that you can continue in that role."  I saw two
considering this, and then, in what was clearly an
obvious gesture of solidarity with the others, and of
defiance for me, he put the gag back in his own mouth,
and reached behind his head and snapped the fastening
closed himself.  He stood there, upright and proud,
radiating his moral superiority, and I knew that I
needed to do "something" to knock him back to his
proper place.

I hadn't watered the salves that night, so I fetched
the waterer, ordered them all to kneel, and went down
the line putting the tube in through their gags and
allowing them all a nice long drink.  When I got to
two, however, I skipped over him and did the others. 
Then I went back to two, reached between the bars of
the cage and slipped a leather thong around his neck,
and hauled his head towards the bars so that his face
was jammed right through them as far as it would go. 
I hauled the thong tight and knotted it securely, so
two's head was wedged there.  Slowly and casually, so
that he and all the other slaves could see what I was
doing, I got my dick out from my shorts and went over
to the helpless two.  As he saw what I was planning to
do, two tried to escape, but of course his head was
firmly secured and all he could do was kneel there.  I
pushed my dick forward and let it just go through the
hole in the centre of his gag, and began to piss, very
slowly.  Two was making totally inarticulate noises as
 my piss started to fill his mouth, and clearly was
not swallowing it as he was breathing through his nose
and holding his throat shut, and my piss was trickling
out of the corners of his mouth.  Had it not been for
the ring gas, I'm sure he would have bitten my dick
off!  His whole attitude annoyed me, so I took a firm
hold of his nose and squeezed his nostrils closed so
that he could only now breathe through his mouth, a
mouth full of piss that he'd have to swallow to clear
the air way.

I carried on pissing and could see two's Adam's apple
working away desperately as he alternately gulped down
air and swallowed my piss, and tears were welling up
in his eyes, which I could see as I looked down at him
as he knelt there in front of me, now once again
humbled.  When I'd finished and squeezed my dick to
expel the last drops of my piss into his mouth, I
wiped my dick head along his upper lip so that the
last remaining traces of my piss were left right under
his nostrils (as I did this of course it tingled with
the excitement as two's growth of beard from that day
scratched at it, and I had to exert all my self
control to prevent myself getting an erection).  I
tucked my dick away, and undid the thong holding two,
who now just continued to kneel there.  I walked away
from them all, without even a backward glance.

It was good to be home again that night - I'd spent a
lot of time at the depot recently.  As it was raining,
I'd called up and had my pony bring the trap down to
the depot so I didn't have to walk to the street car
line; so I put on my big poncho and hat again and went
out to where he was waiting - shivering, as my slaves
had been earlier - even though he'd managed largely to
get shelter from the rain under an overhanging
doorway.  We might have waited an hour or so for the
rain to stop, but I was anxious to get home though, as
it had been a tiring day.  In my hurry,  I practised
my newly-acquired carriage whipping skills on him: 
previously I'd only used a tawse on his back if he ran
too slowly, and he was kind of used to this, and it
was gratifying to see the additional spurt of speed he
was capable of mustering each time the end of my
carriage whip snaked out and caught his butt - you
probably remember, Stu, that my trap pony has
deliciously long legs and a real "bubble" but, as dad
chose him more on the basis  of speed, rather than
endurance like the dray slaves have. 

It was much the same as ever that night, though - I
was bubbling over and wanted to tell dad all about how
I was getting on, and the huge progress I was making
in "taming" my slaves and turning them into a proper
working dray team, and dad just wasn't interested! 
He'd made me do this fucking job, after all, and now
he just cut me short so he could sit there and tell me
what a dreadful day he'd had in his endless meetings,
and bore me with another of his incessant lectures on
the prudent financial management of large corporate
ventures.  I always think that he never pays me enough
attention, and he doesn't so much want a son, as an
heir to carry on the business.... And it's not the
same thing.  Steve.

Steve:  Parents can be difficult, can't they?  Your
dad has always been nice enough to me, but then I've
only seen him occasionally when I've been a guest at
your house and I suppose our innate southern
hospitality  and politeness has made him pay attention
to me as a guest (even if I was only there as one of
your buddies!).  But he must love you, Steve, or at
least have some plan for your future which might be
his way of expressing his love for you:  why else
would he want you to do all this dray stuff?  And
don't you think he's working away for you, behind the
scenes?  I mean, does every new drayman, even if he's
not as young as you, get a kind of "personal advisor"
like this Jon?  How much time is Jon taking form his
other duties to act as a kind of mentor and advisor to
you - it sounds like a lot, from what you write, and
he must have your fathers' permission for that,
surely?

I know that in the past you've often said to me that
you wish you were me, with my dad as yours as he's so
kind and considerate.  You don't know the half of it,
Steve - he's like that to you, on the outside, as he
sees you as a "sinner" and he thinks that if he spends
time with you, gets to know you, and empathises with
your problems, he might get a chance to "save" you for
jesus!  I know you well enough to know that it won't
work, of course, but my dad will keep trying as he's
happier when he's "saving" lost soul than he ever is
when he's dealing with his own son.  He never spends
any time with me, just as your dad doesn't with you,
as he's always too busy sorting out problems in the
church, or problems for his flock, or, if he's
finished with those, down on his knees praying.  So
don't think that I get it all good, and you get it all
bad.

I still think your dad made a mistake, though.  I
can't believe all this "training" of those dray slaves
is really doing you any good - look at how you told me
you whipped your pony to make him get you home
quicker, and how you were unconcerned that he was wet
and cold - I seem to remember that just after you'd
got him you'd hardly touch him with the tawse, and
when we were both in the trap one day with our golf
clubs and we got to the bottom of Piney Hills Road,
you made me get out and walk as two guys plus two sets
of clubs would be too much for the poor creature!  I
guess these days you'd just lash at his butt two or
three times, wouldn't you?  It's making you hard and
uncaring for your fellows, Steve.  Watch it!  I do
care about you, and don't want all this to go horribly
wrong for you.  Stu.

Stu:  You've got it all wrong!  It's not making me
"hard" at all - it's just making me realise that for
the last couple of years my pony had it fucking easy! 
He's perfectly capable of taking two of us plus two
sets of clubs up Piney Hills Road, and all he needs is
"encouragement" to see that.  It doesn't do a slave
any good to know that his owner is soft on him -
slaves appreciate owners who are fair, but firm, Stu -
Jon says so.   Anyway, let's not argue about this, as
when you come in a couple of weeks time you'll see
that I'm still the same old Steve you always knew, and
I really am looking forward to showing you the dray
this time.

Anyway, the next morning I was there bright and early
to feed and water the slaves, and get them ready for
our first real day of work.  I ordered them to jerk
off as I didn't want them always erect as we went
about our business, and I especially didn't want any
of them who hadn't had sex for a few days starting to
drip pre-cum or even spontaneously ejaculate.  It was
good to see that they now did this as if it was
absolutely normal to kneel there in a row and jerk off
with your buddies, and afterwards I emphasised to them
that they were to really empty themselves in the
shitter, as I'd certainly punish any slave who needed
to disrupt the day's work once we'd left the depot.   
Once they'd showered and shaved I did my morning
inspection, even more carefully than usual, and I
dished out some of the sun oil and told the slaves to
massage it well into the skins of their buddies - I
wanted my slaves to look really great, with their
skins glowing with a healthy sheen, and this would do
it - but only if it's well massaged in, of course, as
otherwise you get a horrible shiny greasy mess.  And
then we marched out to the dray shed, and I was
distressed to see that I didn't look all shiny and new
any more - I'd been so stupidly concerned for the
slaves being cold and wet the previous evening that
I'd let them go straight over to their cage and hadn't
taken the time to get them to clean it off properly -
so we had to waste time now, valuable time at the
start of the working day, whilst they completely
cleaned and polished it again.

The consequence of this was that the others had
started to arrive, and so we were now fourth in line
to be loaded up by the warehouse slaves.  It's a
skilled business, actually - ideally, of course, you'd
load the packages in the reverse order from that which
they were to be delivered in:  as the drayman, I get a
palm-PC with all today's deliveries and routes in it,
downloaded from the warehouse systems.  All I need to
do is follow the route, taking the last package off
the dray each time and delivering it as we make a
smooth, least-effort route around the city.  But
practical considerations of loading the dray come into
play - you can't put very small packages marked
"fragile" in front of big, heavy ones in case there
should be a sudden halt that would cause everything to
slide forward and crush the fragile stuff, and so on. 
So loading the dray takes longer than you'd expect,
and it was irritating to be back in the queue and to
have to wait.

Once loaded we headed for the gate - the slaves were
now finding it a lot harder than it had been
yesterday, and as we got there I decided it was
probably unnecessary to keep them muzzled, and I
anyway needed to do something about tethering them.  I
realised I could further my plan to break two and so
achieve multiple objectives, and I told them to rest
for a moment, and went around and took the muzzles off
all except two - I let the slaves see I was putting
the muzzles in the box under my seat so they'd know I
could always muzzle them again if they were
troublesome, and I turned to them and said "I expect
silence - no chattering amongst yourselves, no making
remarks to passers-by.  You are allowed a polite
'thank you, ma'am' if a customer says you've done a
good job delivering a package, but that's as far as it
goes.  If you break the rules, I'll muzzle you again. 
And you'll see that I'm keeping two muzzled as I gave
him the opportunity last night to be free of it, but
he chose to wear it!   As he clearly likes wearing a
muzzle, I'll let him continue."  

I saw all of them look at two, and they were thinking
that his defiance of me last night had clearly
backfired on him.  And it got worse, as I went on
"I've also decided that I won't be using the tether
chain for you - but, again, I expect you to behave
properly.  You are not to leave your assigned places
between the shafts without my express permission - for
example, when I need you to carry heavy packages.  And
if you do, you'll spend the rest of the week tethered.
 All except two, that is, who's rather unreliable:  I
don't want him spoiling things for the rest of you,
and so I'm going to tether him anyway as he can't be
trusted."  So saying, I looped a shorter tether chain
through two's collar, fastening then ends to the
tether point, and then we were ready for the off.

They'd been embarrassed the day before at appearing
naked on the streets, but they seemed to be less
concerned about that today -  perhaps they were
getting used to the idea that my slaves were always
going to work like that;  or perhaps, and this is I
suppose a little more likely, they were so focussed on
the much harder job of pulling the loaded dray that
they didn't have time to concern themselves about the
prospect of someone seeing their dick bobbing up and
down as they trotted along!  They performed well, too
- they were very responsive when I called out things
like "next left" as I saw from the map on my palm-PC
where we should go, and they maintained a good pace. 
We got to our first drop-off point, the goods inwards
loading bay of a medium sized company, and  I was
proud of the skill they showed in backing the dray in
so that I could supervise the slaves there to make
sure they only took their company's packages off the
dray.  And then we were off to the next place, and so
the morning passed relatively easily and without
incident.  When we had to make a delivery to a private
home we tended to keep the dray on the street, and not
back it into the driveway, and then I would take one
or two of the slaves (depending on the weight of the
package) to actually carry it for me, so I could focus
on the customer and present the proper "face" of our
company.  I rotated this around, so that they all got
a bit of variety away from the shafts, except for two,
of course, who just had to stay there, tethered to the
dray.

There are several well-known places in the city where
our draymen and other delivery people from rival
organisations tend to go at lunchtime (well-known to
draymen, that is - I'd never heard of them before!)
and as it got closer to one o'clock,  I diverted from
the planned route to go to one of them for my lunch. 
There were a couple of our drays already there, and I
saw that it was the practice to allow the slaves to go
and sit in the shade at the side of the parking lot,
and so I told my slaves they could go over and join
the others - all except two, of course, who just had
to stand there, looking dejected and forlorn, muzzled
and shackled to the dray.  I don't eat a lot of lunch,
but I chatted to the other draymen for a bit, and then
went out to resume work.  That fucking two had
actually dared to sit down, and had perched himself on
the central pole of the dray.  He made no move to get
back on his feet as I approached, and he needed to be
taught a lesson he wouldn't forget - I hope you agree,
Stu, and we're not going to have any more silly
comments about "cruelty", but I couldn't allow this
insolence, could I?  Not only had he sat down, which
is not allowed as he'd had clear instructions that
morning to stay in place unless told otherwise, but he
was completely disrespectful in not getting to his
feet when his master approached!  No slave master can
allow a slave to get away with things like that, Stu,
as it's not good for the slave - let him do little
things like that, and soon you have a wild, unruly
slave who doesn't obey properly and has to be sold,
and probably sold at a lower price into some terrible
new situation where his nature isn't so much of a
problem, like down the mines.  The considerate master
corrects faults as soon as he detects them, therefore,
and so without hesitation I took the carriage whip and
started to beat two about the shoulders and back with
it.  I've told you it really stings when it hits the
butt, but it's much, much worse on the shoulders and
back as there's less muscle to cushion the shock.  Had
he been able to, two would have been howling with the
pain, but as it was there was just this muffled kind
of bellowing noise form him as my lows continued to
fall.

I called the rest of the slaves back then and they
looked pretty stunned by the whole thing, and  I saw
them looking at the vivid red marks all across two's
back.  Still, I had no more trouble for the rest of
the day, and even when one delivery took an age as we
had to unpack a new piece of equipment that was
replacing a broken one so we could re-use the crate to
return the broken piece to the manufacturer. When I
got back to the kerbside the slaves were all still
standing there in their assigned places, and had not
dared to move!  They were good guys, "learning by
example", and I was even more pleased with having
beaten two than I had been at the time:  I now had a
great deal of intellectual satisfaction with what I'd
done, whereas at the time my pleasure had been purely
in the physical joy of pounding the whip into male
flesh.  Steve.

Steve:  No, I'm not going to go on at you about
"cruelty".  I guess you know more about "slave
management" and what is, and what is not, considered 
"cruel", than I do.  But I am a bit worried when you
say, as you do at the end of your note "...my pleasure
had been purely in the physical joy of pounding the
whip into male flesh."   Look at it, Steve!  That
isn't the Steve I know - well, I don't think it is. 
I'll be worried about doing any of those things we
used to enjoy together - wrestling, swimming, fooling
around.... You may decide that you'd get "physical
joy" from pounding something into me.  What's happened
to the Steve who was considerate and gentle?   Stu


Stu:  He grew up, and entered the real world.  Steve.

End Of Part Six.