Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2004 02:11:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Willing Slave, Parts 29

THE WILLING SLAVE, Part 29

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

It was all an unnecessary worry on my part, of course,
as there was no way my owner was going to castrate me
- he still appeared for sex about once a month, and he
knew that without my balls I wouldn't be able to shoot
huge loads of my cum all over his face, or down this
throat, or up his ass, or, if I was feeling
particularly bad tempered, into his ears or up his
nose.
He didn't even cane me in spite of my mistress's
complaints about the cum-stained sheet, but he didn't
interfere in my punishment, either, and I now had to
sleep totally naked in my room without any covering at
all.  It's horrible at first, as the body is used to
having as sheet or something over it, but it's not too
bad in the summer.  But as the warmer weather started
to retreat it got cooler at night:  the house heating
didn't run into the slave quarters, of course, and I
lay there shivering slightly.  Ultimately my owner did
notice something was wrong as I just wasn't able to
run properly in the mornings as my muscles were stiff,
and I was dead tired from lack of sleep.  He told me I
could have a single blanket to cover myself, but that
I needed to be careful.  "Why can't you just catch
your cum in your hand and swallow it, like other guys
do?", he asked.

Jamie never spoke to me about sex much after this
sheet incident,  but I knew he must be jerking off as
when I took out the trash to the kerb for the
cleansing department slaves to collect I occasionally
saw signs that every young lad leaves behind:  lurid
magazines with disgusting pictures of naked women in
them.  I tried leafing through them to understand what
he found so exciting in them, but a lot of the pages
were stuck together... Presumably with his cum.

All that year we carried on training as we'd been
doing, though, as Jamie wanted to excel at sport.
Even after a hard day's running my owner and my
mistress around, I had to find the energy to go
jogging with him, or to practice endless manoeuvres at
football, or to race up and down with a baseball
trying to intercept and tackle.  After  the incident
with the wet dream, though, he never again wanted me
to sleep in the corridor outside his room.  The next
time his parents were staying away the night and my
mistress was giving her orders I heard him say "Aw,
mom, I don't want the slave lying out there in the
corridor.  I'm old enough to take care of myself now.
If there's an emergency, I can always go down to his
room - I'm not a kid any more!"

I felt so sad, as this is the first time I'd heard him
refer to me as "the slave", as his mother did, rather
than as "Steve".  And I noticed he was developing a
master's attitude in other ways, too - just little
things, but I could see that I was no longer his "best
buddy", but was turning into "the slave".  For
example, if we were practising basketball and the ball
shot away from both of us, at one time he'd have
chased after it and brought it back to the hoop.  Now
he said "Go and get it, Steve", if I was lucky!  If I
was unlucky, he'd casually say "Fetch the ball,
slave", just as you'd speak to a dog.

At the end of the Summer vacation period there was a
major change in our lives - Jamie had gone down to New
York with my mistress, and when I collected them from
the station from the late afternoon train there was a
huge pile of bags and boxes from the major stores.

I discovered quite a lot about life in the house from
looking at the trash, and when I took it out later in
the week I saw that the empty boxes and bags were
labelled with things like "formal trousers" and
"sports coat".  Jamie continued to use me as his
exercise companion, and when we'd finished playing a
particularly fast game of ball one night and we were
both covered in sweat, he solemnly shook my hand
before he went into the house.

"That's it for this season, slave.  Thanks for the
game.  We'll do this again at Christmas."

"Sir, thank you, sir.  But please, sir, can I ask why
you're giving up, sir?"

"I'm not giving up - but school starts tomorrow.  And
my mother and grandfather want me to go to his old
school.  So I won't be back until the Christmas
vacation."

"Sir, you're going away to school, sir?"

"Yes, Steve.  One of the oldest and best.  Up in
Massachusetts.  So when you take me to the station
tomorrow, you won't see me again until Christmas."

With that he walked off, and I stood there almost
stunned.  Jamie, my son as I thought of him, had been
so much a part of my life and now he was going away to
school!

It was really tough the next morning taking all three
of them, and Jamie's luggage, to the station as that's
a huge load.  And all I could do was watch as they
hugged each other as the train came in and Jamie went
to get aboard - I was right on the platform as I was
handling all his luggage and so was allowed in the
"free men" section.  My mistress was crying as the
train pulled out, and my owner looked pretty sad, too.
 I'd lost just as much as them, but I couldn't show
it, could I? It was my son going away, taking his
first steps into the grown up world, after all, but I
couldn't even wave him goodbye - I had to follow my
owner and my mistress, respectfully, totally without
emotion as you'd expect from a slave.

When he came home for Christmas there was a huge
change in Jamie - he was no longer the lad I'd known,
but a swaggering, arrogant, adolescent.  He never even
said hullo to me when I'd pulled him home from the
station, and went straight into the house with his
mother.  And when he came to my room a few minutes
later, he just said "Get the trap to the front door,
slave. I'm going down the mall."

He never called me "Steve" again, and now I was always
"Slave" as his mother used.  And he commanded, and
never asked.

I now had even more work, as in addition to ferrying
my owner and my mistress around I now had to take him
out, too.  He seemed to have an endless stream of new
"friends" he'd met at his fancy school, and he was
always going into New York, or to the local mall, to
meet one or other of them.  He didn't have time to
play sport, and no longer even seemed interested.  In
spite of my tiredness and the cold of winter, I even
did things like stand outside and shoot hoops myself
in the hope he'd see and remember what fun it was, and
come out and join in.

It was just the same in the spring break, too, and by
summer it was just as if Id never been his companion -
I was just part of the "fixtures and fittings" to make
life easier for him.  Still, at least I was physically
near him, and could see him growing up.

He had a school friend come to stay in the middle of
the summer vacation, and as I was cleaning the pool
just before, Jamie was sitting talking to his mother
who had her usual book open.

"But mom, Brett's family is rich.  They'll think we're
poor."

"Nonsense, Jamie.  Everyone knows your grandfather is
extremely wealthy, and that you will be, one day.  And
your father is very well respected as he's been
appointed to the board that advises Congress on the
humanitarian treatment of slaves.  Why, only the other
day there was that article he wrote for the Washington
Post that talked about the humane way to circumcise
slaves.  You've got nothing to worry about - indeed, I
think Brett's money is very much 'new' money as his
father only made it by going into the slave hire
business.  It will be him who is amazed at the way we
live - I'm sure his people don't have the family china
and silver we use every night at dinner, and have to
use expensive new stuff that they probably think is
elegant just because it cost a lot of money."

"Yes, mom, he will be amazed!  Amazed that we can live
like this, almost in squalor, with only one slave!
And he's not even a proper servant - just a pony, that
you get to do other stuff.  Brett's parents have
slaves all over the house and in the grounds, and he
and his parents never do anything.  It's great - even
if you want the TV channel changed you just tell a
slave to do it and you don't have to fiddle with a
remote - there's a slave in their family room kneeling
behind one of the couches just to do things like that
for you.  What's Brett going to think when he sess you
serving dinner yourself, and loading the dishwasher,
and all that other stuff?  And we don't have a
personal slave in the bathroom...."

"Jamie, you worry unnecessarily!  I grew up with
slaves, and I'm perfectly happy with the way the house
runs.  I like cooking, and I like to make sure the
table is properly laid with the fine china and silver:
 it's the standards that matter, not how they are
achieved!  I bet Brett's mother gets her slaves to
serve hamburger, whereas we dine properly on the
gourmet recipes I was taught as a girl.  It's Brett
that will be embarrassed - I don't suppose the
uneducated slaves he'd have been brought up with have
been able to show him how to use a pick and callipers
for eating escargots, or the correct way of piling
artichoke leaves on the side of the plate when you've
eaten the choke, or...."

"Mom!  That's not the point!  Brett has a personal
slave who lays out his clothes, helps him shower,
dresses him, cleans his room....  And even....."

"Even what, dear?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter."

"Go on, Jamie.  What else does this personal slave do?
 If it's that important to you, we can get your father
to let the slave deal with Brett's things."

"NO, mom!  Absolutely not!  I'd die of embarrassment
if you did that!  For one thing, Steve's got all those
tattoos."

"Well, Brett wouldn't have to see those.  The slave's
T mostly covers them."

"But mom.... You know.... In the shower... Brett would
see the slave's thingy....."

"You're almost a man now, Jamie, and it's time you
stopped this ridiculous baby talk.  You mean the
slave's penis, I suppose?  There's nothing wrong with
discussing a slave's body using the correct terms.
You wouldn't call a TV's remote it's 'thingy', so why
call a slave's penis anything but that?"

"OK, mom, yes.  But we can't expect Brett to have to
see the slave's black penis like that.  Couldn't we at
least sell him and buy a new one?  A younger one, you
know.... That would help..."

"I don't expect your  father would agree to that,
dear.  The slave's been with us a long time - since
before you were born - and he works well and we're
used to his ways.  And young slaves don't necessarily
work better than old ones, you know.  It's all a
matter of training, and the way you treat them."

"Couldn't we have a young slave, mom?  Please?  Brett
won't want an older man like the slave touching him
when he's showering.  We need a sixteen or seventeen
year old...."

"Jamie, stop this at once.  It's out of the question
that we should trade the slave for a sixteen year old
just so that your friend can have a younger slave to
wash him in the shower!  For one thing, a young slave
like that wouldn't have the strength to pull the cart
- look at those magnificent muscles on the slave, and
think about how you like to race around the town in
the trap!  Now, I don't want to hear any more about
this.  If your friend comes he'll just have to take
care of his own clothes, and I don't expect it will
hurt him to have to soap himself in the shower.  And I
hope you tell him that he's expected to behave
properly - to keep his elbows off the  table, not  to
speak with his mouth full, not to pick at himself or
scratch in public...."

"Mom, stop it!  I know you're joking... We have
lessons in manners at school."

"Well, I think that proves my point.  When I was at
school that wasn't necessary, as all my fellow pupils
already knew that from their normal home life.  Now,
are you going to swim, as I'm about to go in and start
dinner.  I'm making  tornedos Rossini tonight, as I
know you and your father both like that."

I carried on working, my dick bobbing up and down as I
used the sweep, as Jamie got up and walked across the
pool area to dive in.  All those lessons we'd had
certainly had paid off, as he cut through the water
like a knife, did "professional" underwater turns at
each end, and generally looked like a considerable
athlete.  He was lean and lithe, and I could see the
light thatch of hair forming on his chest, just as I
had.  I really wanted to be in there, having one of
those friendly races that fathers and sons indulge in,
but in our changed relationship I knew that he
wouldn't tolerate a slave using the pool.

EDITOR'S NOTE

We never get to hear from Steve's notebooks how this
first visit of a school friend went, as there is a
break in the record and we have nothing at all for two
years.  When Steve's journals resume the material is
patchy and fragmented and is almost just the diary of
special events such as his annual medical check up
from his owner, and exceptional trips that required
special efforts because of the distances involved.  We
also know that the vet continued to visit Steve at
regular intervals for sex, and that these continued to
be accompanied by canings as the vet worked out his
guilt - Steve no longer complains about it, and no
longer seems to even enjoy the sex much:  he just
records the number of strokes rather laconically,
noting whether they were just on his arse, or spread
over his thighs and back, too.  He no longer tells us
how he feels as he fucks the throat or the ass of his
owner, and he seems to have lost that enjoyment of the
total domination of another man's body that
characterises his early sexual experiences.

Steve is only forty now, and still in superb physical
condition.  He is well able to do all the work that's
demanded of him, but he no longer visits the house
next door for regular sex, and seems unenthusiastic
even about casual masturbation with other ponies when
waiting at the station or the mall.  Normally we
expect men's sexual libido to diminish in their
forties, but this is generally as a result of lack of
time, and the stress of modern living.  Slaves,
without any or the cares and concerns of the world,
usually remain rampantly active well into their
sixties and so Steve's virtual withdrawal from human
copulation is curious.  We know that it's not a
physical problem, as the diaries do occasionally note
that he is still masturbating each night and each
morning, and producing very substantial amounts of
cum.  He appears to do this as a purely mechanical
process, as he does not describe the fantasies he is
having as he jerks  himself off.

In "Slave Psychology - The Mental State Of The Slave",
Professor Jilkes, head of the Department of Animal
Behaviour at Berkeley, writes "It is easy to believe
that as he can speak and communicate with his owner
the slave shares all the same emotions and reactions
with free men. However we do not regularly punish free
men for things that cause them pleasure, and the link
in an animal's brain between action and consequence is
one that we tend to overlook.  It is important that
owners who use their slaves for their own sexual
gratification do so in  a way that is not actively
abhorrent to the slave, and that whatever is done in
the bedroom does not have later consequences.  Of
course a slave can be made to take part in whatever
act the owner desires, but if the slave perceives that
it leads to 'punishment', then his enthusiasm
diminishes.  Most owners would prefer their slaves to
be at least compliant with their wishes, and few
owners would want a slave who is completely supine an
uninvolved in the sexual act."

It is possible that the canings that Steve receives
after he has fucked his owner have indeed turned him
off.  He has no option but to fuck his owner "on
demand", but as he does this, he knows that punishment
awaits him.  Indeed, the more he enjoys the sex
himself and the more he humiliates his owner causing
the owner's pleasure to be increased, the worse will
be the subsequent punishment.

We don't think that Steve is unhappy - he seems to
continue to be pleased that he's able to fulfil his
function as a pony in a "professional" way, but
neither is he happy.

The journals resume in full at the start of the Summer
vacation when Jamie is due back from school.  Jamie is
now sixteen, and Steve forty one.

-------------------

My mistress called me to the back door when I was
sweeping the yard and told me to go to the station to
meet Master Jamie from the four o'clock train.  "I'm
not coming with you, as his friend Brett is coming to
stay with us for the summer whilst his parents are
abroad in Australia. They will have a lot of luggage,
so be sure the back of the trap is clean and empty."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

I was excited at seeing Jamie again, not that I liked
his choice of friends much.  Personally, I blame Brett
for much of the swaggering arrogance Jamie seems to
have acquired:  between him and that fancy school they
go to, Jamie seems to have learned to be uncaring and
unfeeling for slaves.  He never speaks to me now
except to give me orders, and treats me just as if I
am part of the fixtures and fittings of the house.

I jog slowly down to the station and wait outside
until the train from Boston is due, then go on to the
"free men" part of the platform as I expect I'll have
to deal with the luggage, but I'm careful to stand
back against the wall and not stand to close to any of
the passengers waiting to travel on to New York.

Jamie and his friend Brett simply throw out all their
bags and cases down on to the platform, then saunter
off whilst I collect them and load them into the trap
- both of them have got at least six pieces, and it
takes me some time.

"Fucking hell, Jamie, that slave's a lazy bastard!", I
hear Brett say as they stand and watch, making no
attempt to help. "We've been here ages.  I do wish
your people would get younger slaves, or more of them,
or both!"

"Yes, well you know my father's attitude- he's forced
it down out throats often enough when you've been
staying here in the past.  Still, only five years to
go, and then I can start to really live."

"When you're twenty one?  Is that when you get your
hands on your trust fund?"

"Yes.  I could have it now, but dad's one of the
trustees and he won't release any.  He says I don't
need a personal body slave as it's unsuitable for an
adolescent boy.  But now I'm sixteen, I'm going to ask
him again - after all, it's legal for me to fuck now.
And I'm going to tell him that it's only postponing
the inevitable - when I'm twenty one the trustees have
to hand over all the money, and I can do what I like.
I'm going to tell him that it's unfair to make me wait
to spend my money on a personal slave... Or does he
like me having aching balls all the time?"

Brett laughed, and joshed Jamie, saying "Hey, the last
thing anyone would think you've got is aching balls!
We all hear you jerking off all night in the dorm.
And you and I..... Well, I know those big, low hangers
of yours couldn't possibly ache after all the exercise
we give them!"

Oh shit!  Were Jamie and Brett having sex?  I'd wanted
Jamie to grow up and get married, and have kids of his
own...

"Say, Jamie, about that.... What will your folks think
if we bring girls back and fuck them?"

"They'll go ballistic!  I don't think anyone has sex
under our roof!  Not even mom and dad any more - in
fact, I don't think they've had sex since he got her
knocked up with me!  No, we're going to have to do it
in the trap, or at their house.  Or we could go to a
motel - there's enough around here.  Remember that fun
night last week when we took that girl to that crappy
place up the road from school?  Fucking hell, Brett, I
thought we were going to get complaints as she made so
much noise as you porked her."

"Yes, silly cunt!  What did she think as going to
happen when two studs took her to a motel?  Only one
of her and two of us - she was OK when you fucked her
and I watched, but when I came on as the second
course, she started making all that noise!"

"Yes, all that 'But Jamie, I love you...' crap and all
that sobbing as she tried to get me to make you stop."

I'd finished loading now, and stood there until Master
Jamie acknowledged me.  "Sir, please sir, we can go
whenever you wish, sir."

"About fucking time, slave!  Come on, Brett, move
yourself...."

We set off and it was tough as I went uphill with
these two lads - no, men - and all their luggage. Both
Jamie and Brett had filled out even more since the
last vacation and they were similar build.  Jamie took
after me, as I've told you, and so they were both now
a really heavy load for me.

The sting of the whip across my thighs caused me to
shout out - it was so unexpected, as Jamie did not
whip me, and my mistress had almost stopped using it,
too.  "Faster!", Jamie snapped.  "Stop dawdling.  My
father's far too lax on you, and you're going to have
to learn to run a lot fast this Summer if you're going
to carry us in the style we're accustomed to."

He slashed viciously at me legs again, and I almost
stumbled and lost my footing at the intense searing on
my calves.  I hated being whipped, not only because of
the pain, but because it was so unnecessary - I would
have run s fast as I could anyway.  And, deep down, I
knew it was wrong for my son to be treating me this
way.

When we got back to the house ~I was covered in sweat,
and pulled up at the front door.  My mistress came out
and Jamie leapt down and hugged her.

"Jamie.... Home at last."

"Hi, mom...."

"And Brett - welcome to Scarsdale again.

"Thank you, ma'am.... It's really good of you whilst
my parents are working in Australia.  Even with the
money dad's making they can't afford to fly me there
for the holidays: dad says that it's to like the old
days, when people used to vacation there all the
time."

"It's no problem, Brett.  We enjoy having you here.
Now, I've put you two boys together in the main guest
bedroom as there's been a small leak in the roof above
Jamie's room, and I'm expecting the decorators next
week.  You don't mind sharing, do you?"

"No, mom, of course not - we're in the same dorm at
school, and I'm used to Brett snoring!"

Jamie turned to me, and snapped "Get the luggage out,
and take it upstairs."

"No!", my mistress said. "Look at him, Jamie, dripping
with sweat like that.  He'll stink the place out.
Can't you and Brett just take your own things up?"

Brett had wandered off slightly looking at the house,
and Jamie lowered his voice and almost whispered
"Mom.... Please!  It's bad enough only having one
slave, but if we can't use him for the stuff any guest
might expect...."

"Well I'm not having that slave with those soaking
clothes going up my stairs. He might make the
wallpaper damp...."

Jamie turned to me and ordered "Strip!  Get those
things off, rub your body down with them to get the
remaining sweat off you, then get the luggage
upstairs.  And be quick about it!"

It was awful, having to run up and down the stairs
carrying their cases naked.  By now it wasn't so much
the thought that my mistress and Jamie and his friend
would see me naked as they'd all done this lots of
times before.  No, it was more about being naked
inside a house, with carpets on the floor, nice
furniture, all that kind of stuff.  Somehow it made me
feel much more strange that being simply naked out of
doors, by the pool.

As I carried the last bag in, Brett was sitting on one
of the two single beds and Jamie was opening the first
of his bags.

"Jamie, sport... Maybe this vacation isn't going to be
so bad after all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at the ass on your slave!  Even if we
can't have girls back here, there's no reason why we
can't have a bit of sport - he looks like a great
fuck."

"No, we can't fuck Steve..."

"Why not?  He's only a slave!  And we're both over
sixteen, so it's all legal.  I know he's a bit
repulsive to look at, but if we turn the lights
out...."

"Well.... I've never done it before.  And I don't know
what my dad would say abut fucking a slave - he's
really straight-laced and I don't think he's ever
fucked anyone but my mom:  they married as soon as
they left college, you know."

I thought to myself "if only you knew....
'Straight-laced', indeed!"

"If you're done, get out of here!", Jamie snapped, and
I bowed lightly and left.  All the same, I was worried
about what I'd heard.  I don't take it up the ass, as
you know, and I thought that Brett wasn't thinking of
me fucking him, quite the contrary!.

Well, nothing much happened for four days until my
owner and my mistress were going for the night to the
city.  Of course I'd been almost run off my feet
ferrying the young men around to their friends, and
the yard was beginning to look really scruffy as I
hadn't had time to cut the grass.  We'd got back after
one long, hot trip though and the two of them decided
to go swimming straight away.  I hadn't even got the
trap into the garage when I heard Master Jamie
shouting "Get around here, slave!  This pool's a
fucking disgrace!"

I went around to find that there were a number of dead
wasps floating on the surface that the skimmer hadn't
cleared, and so I went to get the net to clear them
away.  I was dripping with sweat from my run, and the
water looked so inviting - I'd have loved to jump in
and cool off.

I started to fish for the wasps, then Jamie shouted
"Fucking slave!  How many times has my mother told you
- slaves cleaning pools do it naked!"

"Sir, sorry, sir... I thought you just wanted the dead
wasps out quickly..."

"Slaves don't fucking think, you ignoramus!  Get out
of those clothes, and get those fucking wasps out of
the water as Mast Brett and I want to go for a swim."

"Whilst he's doing that I'll go and get my shorts",
Master Brett told Master Jamie.

"Hey, Brett... Don't rush about, as it's so hot.  My
folks are out.... Why don't we just do it 'au
naturel'?"

As he spoke, Jamie stripped off his clothes and stood
there on the edge of the pool.  My heart almost
skipped a beat, as he looked so much like me at
sixteen - in the first flush of manhood, his belly and
chest with a nice thatch of hair, and his muscles now
assuming the proper masculine hardness as his body
grew from being a youth, to a man.  Brett was in good
shape, too, and I supposed the two young men were such
good friends as they shared a liking for sport.

They raced up and down the pool, obviously enjoying
the competition, then stood close together n the
shallow end, their dicks just under the water.

"Hey, man, that was great", Master Brett said to
Master Jamie.  "You know what would be a perfect way
to round off the afternoon?"

"No, what?"

"A good fuck!  Come on, look at your slave - he's got
an ass that looks ripe for reaming."  His tone changed
and he looked at me and snapped "Get in here and get
that sweat off you."

I looked at Master Jamie, and he shouted "You heard
Master Brett - do you think we want to fuck something
covered in animal sweat?"

I was horrified, but, almost as if on autopilot, I
executed a perfect dive into the pool, then struck out
and did four perfect lengths, just as I used to in the
old days.

I went and stood by the two men, and Mast Brett said
"Hey, he's a good swimmer."

"Yes - he taught me to swim."

"Your family's had him that long then?"

"Yes, as long as I can remember.  He's always been
here.  My dad bought him before I was born.  You know,
Brett, I hadn't noticed before - but he has got a
great ass.  Which of us is going to go first, and
who's going to have to take sloppy seconds?"

"Well, Jamie, I'm the guest so you ought to let me go
first.  But if it's your first time with the slave...
Have you really not fucked him before?"

"No - as I say, my folks are pretty strict about that
sort of thing.  But as I'm sixteen now, they can't
stop me fucking anything I can get my dick into, can
they?"

Both men laughed, and pulled themselves out of the
pool, telling me to follow them.

"Jack that dick of yours and lube your ass", Master
Jamie told me curtly.  I felt sick at the thought of
what was going to happen, and at having to jerk off in
front of them.  I just stood there, dumbly.  No man
likes to jerk off in front of a very young guy does
he, even if he's got nothing at all to be ashamed of
as regards his body, dick, or balls.

"Do you think the slave knows how to jerk off?",
Master Brett asked, jokingly. "With balls like that,
he must do, so what's stopping him?  Do as your master
orders, slave!"

I knelt down on the pool tiles, feeling their heat on
my knees, then trying to keep my head bowed as I
didn't want them seeing the tears starting to form in
the corners of my eyes as I did this humiliating thing
in front of them.  I stroked my dick into life and
started to beat away.  It was awful!  I was years
older than these two, and was having to kneel in front
of them and jerk off - and Jamie was my son!  I don't
know how I did it - except, of course, that the body's
reflexes take over, don't they, and enough stimulation
to your dick and you're bound to shoot.

I looked up, and saw that both young men were erect,
too, standing their playing with their dicks as they
watched me.

"Right, slave - bend over the table, and let's see you
massage some of your cock snot into your ass - or do
you want me to fuck you dry?",  Master Jamie
commanded.

I felt the wood of the table hard on my chest as I lay
down and opened my legs,  I reached behind me to feel
for my hole.... And something inside me snapped.  No,
this wasn't right... It wasn't right that my son was
about to rape me.

I got up, and said, quietly, "Sir, I'm sorry, sir.
But I can't do this, sir."

Both of them were utterly astonished when I strode off
and said not a word, and I went to my room and shut
the door.

There was hell to pay the following day when my owner
was back from the City, of course.  I was summoned
into his surgery where Master Jamie and Master Brett
were already standing, and my owner just said "Strip,
and get in the caning position over the table."

I saw all three men's eyes on me as I pulled off my T
and shorts, and went and did as he said - punishment
was inevitable, I knew.

"Right, Jamie...  The slave disobeyed you.  So you can
punish him.  You're a man now, and it's time you
learned how to cane a disobedient slave."

Those twelve strokes he gave me hurt more than any I'd
ever had before.  It wasn't just the force of them,
administered by a strong, virile, fit sixteen year old
who made no pretence at holding back.  No, it was the
thought that it was my own son who was doing it to me.
 Id' loved him all his life and now he was doing this
to me.

When it was over my owner told me to stand, and
dismissed the two men.  "Just behave, Steve", he said
quietly.  "It can't be that bad just to let the lads
use your ass.  I know you like to top, but where's the
harm in taking it once or twice?"

"Sir!  It's not that, sir!  But Jamie's my son!  A son
doesn't fuck his father...."

"Shut up! I told you never to mention that.  Never!
Never ever!"

"But its not right.  I am his father.  It's me who
fucked his mother, not you.  I'm the man whose fertile
seed produced Jamie, not you...."

"Shut the fuck up!  Do you think that just producing a
few millilitres of sperm makes you a father?  No, it's
me who's his father, me who's brought him up...."

"You're no father.  You never had time for Jamie.  I
taught him to swim, to play sport.  I read to him at
night, helped him to learn to write. I...."

"That's it, Steve!  I won't have this from a slave!  I
warned you that there would be dire consequences if
you ever spoke about the circumstances surrounding
Jamie's conception..." Even now, he was using this
strange circumlocution as if he couldn't bring himself
to face what had happened properly.

"I'm anyway going to punish you for speaking to me in
this way in the most severe fashion.  But think on -
you say you're Jamie's father.  Would a father really
put Jamie through what you're doing?"

"What the fuck..."

"Typical!  You just don't think, do you?  If he was to
learn that he was fathered by a slave, it would
destroy him.  His life would be over.   So, if you do
care anything about him at all, never mention any of
this again!"

I had been in a huge temper, and almost uncontrollable
rage.  But his words stopped me in my tracks.  He was
right... I couldn't say anything more about all of
this.

"Sir... I'm sorry, sir.... I wasn't thinking....
You're right, sir."

"Yes, Steve,  Owners are always right.  We think
through the consequences of our actions, whereas
slaves just act like unthinking animals.  But your
behaviour is not going to go unpunished.  Get out into
the cart, and we're going downtown to the public whip
master.  You're going to get a flogging you'll never
forget!."

I went to pick up my clothes, and he snapped "NO!
You'll go naked.  I want everyone to see that a slave
has so displeased his owner that he's going to be
driven naked to the whip master's, flogged to within
an inch of his life, then driven back dripping with
blood.  This is a day you're never going to forget.
Now, go out and get in the shafts!"

Just then the telephone rang, and he listened intently
and made a few curt remarks.

"You're reprieved, temporarily.  I have an important
client coming.  Go to your room.  Stay naked.  And
once I have finished with this appointment, we're
going straight downtown.  And, if you love Jamie, say
nothing to him at all."

"Sir, yes, sir."

I slunk back to my room, and I've just written this
entry to try to take my mind off what's happened.  But
I see the client has gone, and any minute now I expect
my owner will come and demand me to drive him, totally
naked, down to the public whip master. I've never been
whipped by one of those experts before, but I have
seen the result of a bull whip hitting a man, a bull
whip wielded by one of their fantastically strong
specialists.  What will become of me?

End Of Part 29