Date: Fri, 2 Jan 2004 23:33:09 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Willing Slave, Parts 7&8 (MM NC BDSM FANT)

THE WILLING SLAVE, Part 7

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

(Author's note:  Readers who are easily revolted by
unnatural sex are warned against reading the last
paragraphs of this chapter)

My fellow slaves almost didn't believe me when I told
them what had happened to me that day, and I had to
open my mouth and show them the gaps in my otherwise
perfect teeth.  Well, at least I'd avoided being
lashed by the whip that day as I'd only had to run
home from the tram stop, and I could easily do that at
full speed and so I had a relatively comfortable
night.

I didn't sleep much, though - look, I know that some
masters do fuck their slaves, and do use them for all
sorts of sexual pleasure.  But it had never happened
to me, and I never thought it would - after all, I was
a premium slave, a fully trained pony.  Why would a
master fuck a man like me when he could buy any number
of slaves who'd been trained to perform stunning sex,
just as I'd been trained to pull a trap?  You wouldn't
expect a trained sex slave to be able to pull a pony
trap, so why would you expect a trained pony to be
good at sex?

Well, later in my career I got to see the error of
this argument.  Pulling a trap is a skill you learn,
and you train your body for it.  But sex is something
that all men can do - it's natural and instinctive,
and although you can improve with training, every man
has the basics "pre-wired" in him.  But I'm getting
ahead of myself, and at that moment I was worried
about sex, and about what else my owner and master
Scott had in store for me.

I no longer bothered to put a T on as I knew that I'd
be told to lose it as soon as my bit had been fitted
as I seemed doomed to suffer the lashes from my
owner's whip every day.  Other than the intense
stinging at the time I'd almost got used to it - and,
as my fellow slaves pointed out, it was only really
designed to "encourage" me, not to hurt me
permanently.  One of the gardeners had been to a
public whipping of a slave and told me how at a
serious whipping the skin is broken and so blood pours
out and scars form.  Mine was just a "gentle teasing"
to "stimulate", was his opinion, and that if my owner
really wanted to hurt me he could choose a much better
whip than the small lash he was currently using.
Well, that's all right, then, I thought!   You know,
in spite of my protestations that I was working as
hard as  I possibly could, some of my fellow slaves
almost doubted it.  Although none of them would say
it, I got the impression that they kind of half
thought that I must be slacking, else my owner would
not even think of using a lash on me.

That morning after the new tough bit had been fitted,
Master Scott told me to shuck my shorts.  I stood
there, nude, in front of the two men and for one
dreadful moment thought that they were going to make
me run totally naked!  But my owner handed me
something in leather - as I looked at it, I saw it was
a kind of pouch, with two strings hanging from it,
also in leather.

"This is your new uniform, boy", the owner said.
"Thread the long string through the eye at the end of
the shorter one, put your leg through the circle it
forms, get your tackle nice and snug in the pouch and
the short string bedded in your ass crack, then tie
the  loose end of the string around your waist and
back to the pouch.

It had been bad enough standing there totally naked,
but with this leather G-string on, I now felt that
other thing - "nude". It was almost as if the black
leather pouch and the string around my waist and up my
ass crack actually emphasised my nakedness.

I was then told to get between the shafts, and now my
owner had a new humiliation for me - I was manacled in
to the shafts!  Steel cuffs went around each wrist,
and were fastened to loops that had been screwed to
the shafts - once the catches had been clicked home I
was there until they chose to release me.  For a
trained pony like me this was a real humiliation -
didn't my master realise that all he had to do was to
order me to stay in the shafts, and that's what I'd
do?  On the other hand, I suppose, it was all part of
the "domination and control" thing they were in to,
making me appear truly like their possession with
absolutely no free will of my own.
Almost nude, and manacled, we set off on a day of
"calls".  I now had two new difficulties to contend
with - firstly,  Master Jason and Master Scott now
"displayed" me to all their friends again, and they
all stood there and admired my almost naked body, and
especially my ass.  And secondly, Master Scott's whip
(he almost always drove) now had a new area of my back
to explore, and he focused on my big ass muscles as he
"encouraged" me to keep up a very fast pace.  All the
handling and feeling of my body was made worse for me
as I knew I was totally unable to move - I would not
have done so, of course, but there's a world of
difference between remaining still for an inspection
because you have been trained to do so, and having to
remain still because you are shackled to your trap.

That night in the bunk house all the others looked at
my ass almost in disbelief - none of them had ever
experienced anything like this, either in terms of
being made to do their work almost naked, or by being
"encouraged" - well, except for the handyman when he
did the pool, and that was considered "normal" as most
pool men stripped off totally for their work.

We went on like this for some days but I heard my
owner and Master Scott several times discussing my
body and how my costume could e further improved.  I
found out one morning when, after I'd spent a couple
of hours standing idly by the front door, the two men
appeared, later than usual.

My owner told unshackled me from the trap and told me
to go back to the slave quarters, and I jogged back
and stood by the door, waiting.  The two men came
through the house, then told me to get into the shower
room, and strip.  I stood there naked in front of them
and Master Scott produced a pair of scissors which he
"snipped" suggestively in the air.  He told me to sit
on a table that was against one wall, then came over
and started to snip away at my pubic hair!  As Master
Jason watched, he pulled my dick up and sown and cut
into my thick, wiry bush, trimming most of it away.
Formerly it had stretched from  thigh to thigh,  but
now all I was left with was a minute patch just above
my dick, and this was dramatically reduced in length.
He also trimmed all the long hairs off my balls, so
that they were just covered in a kind of stubble. I
hated the way he casually pulled at my dick and moved
it from side to side as he worked, as if it was just a
piece of meat, and not the essence of my manhood.

"Are you going to shave him, Scott?"

"No, Jase. I don't need to do that, as I said.  We
might do that if we have him totally naked, but if
he's going to wear the mini-string, just taking off
his bush like this so it doesn't all poke out around
it will be enough.  Now, let's see how he looks...."

>From out of his pocket Master Scott produced a new
G-string, but unlike the black leather one I had been
wearing before this one was made of a white silk-like
material.  He motioned for me to put it on, and as I
eased myself into the very whispy, tiny pouch I saw
why they had trimmed me - it was so small, that it
barely covered me at all.  In spite of having most of
my pubic hair trimmed away and the bar above my dick
cut down to about half an inch, it still protruded
above the thin material.  And the pouch bulged
suggestively at the sides, as there was barely enough
material to cover my dick and balls at all.  You could
clearly see the shape of my dick through the thin
material, and if any passers-by had wondered whether I
had been 'skinned or not, they could now easily tell
as the pouch really left almost nothing concealed.

"Excellent, Scott!", Master Jason exclaimed.  "We're
obeying the local ordinance about not having naked
slaves in the streets of Pine Hills, but we're still
able to display this magnificent animal to all our
friends. "

"You're a lucky devil, Jase, to have something like
this, you know.  If my dad had bought me one, I'd have
been fucking it long ago.  Why don't we explore this
one's ass a bit now...."

"I've told you, Scott, that I don't want him whilst
I've got you. I want to make love to you, have you all
night, as we do, not just take a quick stab up an ass,
as I'd have to with this slave - you know dad won't
allow the outdoor slaves in the house."

The two men grinned at each other, hugged, and kissed
deeply.  I watched in fascination as Master Scott ran
his strong hands down the back of my owner as their
clinch continued, then kind of cupped them under his
ass to pull  them even closer together.  I'd never
seen men behave like this before, and I wasn't certain
that I liked it - if I'd ever thought about sex with
another person at all, I'd kind of imagined myself
doing those sorts of things to a woman, as I'd seen my
brothers do (although as I've told you I'd never had
the chance to try it, as none of the girls in our town
would even consider kissing a boy destined to be a
slave).

They broke up after a couple of minutes, and my owner
commanded me to get back to the trap, where the two
men joined me.  I was shackled into the trap and my
reins attached, then we set off.  It was a day of
utter humiliation.  Somehow, having the outline of my
dick and balls visible through the tiny G-string
encouraged all their friends to take liberties with me
- the attitude seemed to be that if my tackle was
basically "on show", then it was OK to reach over and
explore it with your hands.  It was like being at the
auction all over again, with men running their hands
over my body, then cupping my pouched dick and balls
and really feeling them.  I hated it - not only
because I didn't think it as right for men to be
feeling me like this, but because I was acutely aware
of the sensitivity of my balls and thought that at any
moment I'd have a terrible pain of one of the men
pressed too hard into me.

I was almost exhausted when we got back home that
night as we'd really "done the rounds" of all Master
Jason's friends and acquaintances that day, but when
we pulled around the back the overseer, Tony, was
there.

"Jason, your father has asked if you can lend Steve to
me this evening - the slave who cuts the grass, Joe,
has fallen a bit behind, and your dad's got guests to
dinner tomorrow and wants the place looking
immaculate."

"Sure, Tony.  In fact, Scott and I were planning on
staying home this evening, so we don't need Steve at
all.  But I we do want to go down to bar later, we'll
take that pony of dad's - Jack isn't it - once my
father's home from the office.  Take this one away
now."

My owner undid the shackles holding me to the trap,
and Tony said "Does he have to wear that bit?  When
I've used him to cut the grass before he was your
father's pony, and he wasn't fitted with one then."

"Oh, no - you can take it out.  It's only for show,
really, as I hardly ever use it to actually direct
him.  And whilst you're at it, you can let him cut the
grass totally naked - I think his dick and so on are
fading a bit from that all-over tan he had - it will
be a good chance for him to catch up."

Well, he was right, I suppose - I now almost never had
time to swim as the two men kept me running for such
long periods, so I hadn't really been exposed all over
to the sun.  My ass was nicely tanned, of course, as
the G-string left it totally exposed, but my dick and
balls were fading a bit. But it was really humiliating
to have to trot up and down the lawns, hauling the
heavy mower, totally in the nude - as I strained away
I could feel my dick swinging in front of me, and with
the harness that was used with the mowers, I now just
felt like a mule:  they'd managed to convert me from a
willing slave, proud of doing his job well for my
owner, into something not much better than an animal,
slaving away at an unpleasant task without even a
shred of cloth to cover my loins and hide my
nakedness.

After about an hour when Joe and I had each been
pulling separate mowers, Tony told us that we needed
to cut the broad swathes up to the house with the wide
mower, and so Joe and I were harnessed together into
the much heavier machine.  As a gesture, Joe pulled
off his T and worked away next to me just in his
shorts - I knew he felt sorry for me, being made to
wear absolutely nothing.

As we toiled up the slight incline towards the house,
our feet starting to slide somewhat on the damp grass
as the evening dew rose, and to my horror I saw some
of the family sitting there sipping drinks on the
broad stone terrace - the owner's wife, his daughter,
and Master Jason and Master Scott.  As is the way of
rich slave owners, they affected not to notice us two
slaves toiling away, the sweat streaming off us in the
sultry air.  But I saw the owner's daughter starting
to smile a bit, then she leaned over and said
something to her brother.

"Slaves - stop a minute".  Master Jason had stood up,
and called out.

"You, my pony, Steve - come up here a minute...."

I slipped out of the harness, and started to walk the
remaining few paces up the slope towards them.  I felt
the heat of a deep blush start to spread over my
shoulders and up my neck to my face, as I knew they
were all looking at my totally naked body.  Yes, I
know I've got nothing to be ashamed off - at twenty
three, after all my training and the constant
exercise, I've got a body most men would die for.
And, as I've told you, everything is perfectly in
proportion - I'm not over muscled or anything, and it
all looks right on my six foot two.  From all the
other slaves I'd seen at the Double J, I also knew
there was nothing I should be ashamed of in the tackle
department, either, as my  dick was above average in
length and thickness, and my balls hung down low and
full behind it.  I was a perfect specimen of manhood,
so why was I embarrassed?

The owner's daughter was a couple of years younger
than me - I'd taken her to High School occasionally in
the trap when I'd first arrived at eighteen, and seen
which class she was in.  And since then I'd been
around as she graduated, and went off to college.  Her
eyes were fixed on my dick as I stood there, my ribs
rising and falling after my exertions.  She leaned
over towards her brother, and I heard her say to him
"Well, Jason, I can see why you picked this one when
dad gave you the choice.... He's much better hung than
dad's pony Jack."

"How do you know that, sister mine?"

"Oh, you know... The usual....  But with your special
tastes, Jason, I'm surprised you don't know that - I'd
have thought that you and Scott would have been in the
slave quarters every night, picking out a little
entertainment..."

"Look, Linda-Anne, you have your pleasures, and Scott
and I have ours.  We don't need to go and take a slave
to our bed.....  "

I was listening to this in amazement!  Has this woman
really taken Jack off for sex?  Well, I knew that
slaves were used for this, of course, but not trained
ponies like us.  And Jack had never mentioned it.

"So, brother, if you aren't using this one, you won't
mind if I do...."

"I certainly do mind!  This slave's a stud, a real
man.  I don't want that dick of his learning bad
habits, as I do intend to use him for sex at some
point.  So keep your hands off him - confine yourself
to dad's pony, if you are so frustrated.  Or get that
beau of yours to move in with you..."

"You know I can't do that, Jason. Dad isn't nearly as
tolerant with me as he is with you.... He'd completely
freak out if I bought one of my men home, and there's
no way I could move one in to my bedroom suite, as you
have with Scott!  I sometimes wonder if he knows what
you and Scott get up to, or if he just imagines that
you're still 'good friends' like you used to be at
High School.  I think you're lucky that your rooms are
next to mine, not to his, as all that noise you two
make certainly gives the game away."

"But", she continued, "If you're not going to let me
borrow your slave, there's no point in him standing
there making my juices run.  Let him get back to
work."

Master Jason waved his hand at me in a gesture of
dismissal, and I trotted back down the lawn to join
Joe again, acutely conscious that they'd be watching
all the muscles in my back and ass moving as I did so.
 I was flushed with embarrassment, and was terrified
that all that talk of sex would make me go erect.  And
I was amazed at what I'd heard - Jack was actually
having sex with a woman!  I'd kind of understood that
if you wanted sex it was OK with your fellow slaves
(as happened with our two long-term lovers, as I've
told you), but that sex with a free woman was almost
inconceivable.

Joe and I sweated away for another two hours until the
sun finally set, then we put the mowers away and
trudged to the showers.  As we stood there, soaping
each other and washing ourselves, Joe was grinning.

"I think you're going to do all right there, Steve...
That bitch has the hots for you - she never took her
eyes off your dick."

"Oh, come on, Joe - it was horrible!  Having to stand
there naked in front of them all, and listen to talk
about sex.  A man's meant to be able to pick and
choose who he exposes himself to, and who he takes to
bed - and I've now been made to stand there and let
them look at me, and you say she's going to come and
demand that I fuck her...."

"Well, Steve, I wish it was me.  I'd soon have my
shorts off and waggle my dick around if I thought a
good looking piece of pussy like that daughter wanted
me to give her a good fucking.  Man, you don't know
how lucky you are - when he picked you as his pony, I
thought Master Jason would be up your ass within five
minutes.  I think the only thing that's saved you is
lover boy Scott - and even then I'm surprised that
they haven't started on threesomes!"

"You're joking!"

"No I'm not - at my previous place, before I was
bought by the owner here, the master regularly fucked
all the slaves, and he liked us to perform erotic
entertianments for him, too - circle jerks, daisy
chain fucks... All that sort of stuff.  You really got
to know your fellow slaves well there, I tell you."

"But you don't fuck now - I've never seen you do
anything other than jerk off, like we all do, in
bed...."

"I never said I liked it.  I just said that's what
happened.  I didn't have any choice, after all, as my
owner ordered us slaves to do it.  But here, so far,
I've had a choice - and my choice is not to have to
fuck other guys.  But if a nice piece of cunt came my
way... well, that's different....."

Look, I'd honestly never thought about any of this
before.  I've told you that I'd had no experience
sexually, but that I believed I was inclined towards
women, having watched my brothers.  The guys who
fucked in our dorm were all right - it was their
choice - but I'd never honestly felt like joining in
(even if they'd asked me, which they didn't).  And the
thought of having a guy's dick rammed into me
forcibly, against my will, made me feel sick.  To hear
that all this kind of stuff went on around me was,
frankly, surprising and a bit worrying.

As I jerked off  that night my mind kept going back to
this conversation - if all the other slaves around me
had had sex, and some were still having it, what was
going to happen to me?  I thought about it all night,
and got next to Jack the next morning as we were
showering.

"You never told me you were fucking the owner's
daughter, Jack..."

"No.  It's none of our business, is it?"

"But you're a trained pony...."

"So?  I'm a trained pony, sure, but I'm also a man.
And when some good looking pussy is offered to me, I'm
not going to turn it down, am I?   And I don't have a
choice, anyway, do I?  If she tells the owner I've
insulted her or something, even he would have me
punished.  And, as I think you're about to find out,
it's not so much that I fuck her - she fucks me!
She's very much in control, and I'm not like a real
man taking my pleasure - I'm just like a warm,
animated dildo that she uses to get herself off with."

I wanted to talk more, but the day's work called.
Jack pulled on his T and shorts, and I watched
enviously as I eased myself into the tiny G-string
that was now all I was allowed.  We trotted around the
front together, the owner came out and sped off with
Jack, and, as usual, I stood there, waiting.
Unusually Master Jason and Master Scott came out soon
after, and they went through the ritual of having me
kneel so they could fit my bit, then the shackling of
me to the trap, and we set out for the tram stop at
high speed.

"Pick us up off the 16:30", Master Jason said as the
two men alighted, "And until then go back home and
report to Tony to help out with the grass cutting
again."

They didn't wait for an acknowledgement or anything -
it was just assumed that I'd obey - and went into the
station to catch the tram.

It was actually pleasant to be able to jog home at my
own pace, pulling the empty trap - if It hadn't been
for the bit and the tiny satin pouch, it would almost
have been like old times, those times when I was a
happy slave, proud of using my abilities to serve my
master properly.

I was expecting to have a good day cutting the grass
with Joe, but when I saw Tony, he said "No, there's
been a change of plan - your owner called and said
that you're to be lent to his sister, miss Linda-Anne,
for the day.  She's got  lot of running around to do
and her brother's decided he'll be nice to her for
once."

As we were standing there miss Linda-Anne appeared
wearing a short white dress, and Tony smiled and
greeted her.

"Shall I take the bit out of the pony, Miss?  Your
brother always uses it, but it's not necessary as he's
fully voice trained as you know and will just take you
anywhere you want.  And if you'll give me a couple of
minutes, I'll get him decently fitted out in the
standard T and shorts..."

"No, Tony, there's no need for that.  He's got to pick
Master Jason up at he tram stop later, and Jason will
expect him to be dressed normally as his pony.  So
let's not waste time - I'll take him as he is.

"Well let me at least unshackle him.... He can run
better if he's got a bit more flexibility in moving
his arms...."

"No. Leave him.  He runs well enough like that for my
brother, and it will be perfectly satisfactory for me.
 And give me that whip Scott and Jason use - I think
he's used to being 'encouraged' now, and I may be in a
hurry later...."

Tony handed her up onto the bench of the trap, and she
expertly slapped the reins against my naked ass and
said "On, slave.  Fast trot, to the mall."

I did as I was told, but, even so, as we went down the
drive I felt the sting of the lash on my ass - it was
a if she was asserting her control over me already.

We didn't stay long at the mall - it was almost as if
she was taking this the trip as an excuse to use me as
her pony, although one or two of her girl friends were
around and they all came over and squealed their
amazement at my physique as I stood there in my tiny
pouch.  But Miss Linda-Anne seemed to be in a real
hurry, and we were soon off again.

I was surprised when she didn't direct me up the main
drive as we neared the house, but instead went along
the public highway then down a small dirt track that
led into the bottom of the grounds via a double gate -
this was the entrance that was used hen the garbage
cart came, or when deliveries were being made from the
garden suppliers or slave feed merchant.

I trotted along the private estate road and she told
me to halt under one of the big spreading oaks that
grew in that part of the garden.  I stood there,
breathing hard, and was conscious of beads of
perspiration running down my body and soaking my tiny
pouch - it was semitransparent to start with, but once
it was soaking wet, it concealed very little.

She came and stood in front of me between the shafts,
and before I could even think to be surprised, her
long fingers were probing at my dick inside my tiny
pouch!  "Mmmmm.... nice....." She muttered under her
breath.

I tried to get away, but here was nothing I could do -
my hands were shackled to the trap, and I had only
limited movement.  Nevertheless I backed away as far
as I could, but all she had to do was advance a pace
or so.

"Let's get rid of this, shall we....", she murmured,
and she untied the string holding the pouch on to me,
and pulled away the string under my ass so that my
dick sprang free.  "Yes, very nice, as I saw
yesterday.... So, Steve, aren't you pleased to see
me?"

I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't give a
coherent reply anyway, with the bit in my mouth.  So I
just mumbled something.

"Most men show their appreciation of a lady taking an
interest in them by having an erection", she went on.
"What's the matter?  Have my brother and Scott got to
you already, and taught you all that stuff about
'proper' man to man sex?"

I shook my head, and tried to mutter "No."

"So what's the problem then, slave boy?  Don't you
like a lady looking at you?  Well, as you will find
out, as I'm going to do a great deal more than
look...."

She reached out and took my dick in her hand, which
was incredibly smooth and soft. As I looked down I
could see my big, tanned fat dick lying there in her
slender white fingers with their bright scarlet finger
nails.  It was too much - I started to have an
erection, and, as I did, she stroked me oh so gently.

"That's better, slave... My, you are a big boy, aren't
you?" She said, teasingly.

It was no use - I was almost out of control.   She
continued to stroke my dick, and I got those
incredible sensations you have when you're so erect
that it hurts.  I shook my head from side to side and
made kind of protesting noises, and I did my best to
move my body away from her, but it was no use - she
continued to stroke and fondle me, and now had her
other hand cupped around my balls.  As she stroked me
I got that different sensation that comes when you
start to produce huge quantities of pre-cum - it went
from being skin against skin, to having the delicious
sliminess that only that most excellent lubricant can
produce.  To make matters worse, she was slipping my
'skin off and on to my dick head as she stroked away,
and that always gives me so much pleasure it almost
hurts.

I was on the point of shooting a huge load when
abruptly she stopped.  "No, Steve, I don't want to
waste all that lovely sperm that you're going to shoot
 by letting it fly into the air and go on the
grass.... I've got a better use for it.  You are
vasectomised, like all the other slaves, aren't you?"

I nodded, and made kind of "yes" noises to the best of
my ability.

"Well then..." She said, and slipped her dress off
over her head.  I was astonished to see that she was
totally naked underneath, and I stood there gaping -
well, I would have been gaping if my mouth was not
already wedged open - as I saw her firm breasts and
then her pubic area.  Now you know I didn't go to
school, except slave school, where they're not in to
book learning.  But my brothers, and some of the other
slaves, used to have magazines and so on showing naked
women.  So the sight of breasts and a woman's pubes
were not a total shock to me - but you know how it is:
the reality is a bit different from pictures!  And I
was never expecting it to happen to me, anyway - as
I've also told you, no girls in our town would even
consider going with a boy destined for slavery.

"So, you like what you see, do you, slave boy?"  I was
too shocked, I think, to say anything, so she went on
"It's a pity my brother had you shackled to that
thing, as I like to feel a man's body wrapped around
me as we fuck - but, actually, taking a big stud like
you when he's completely powerless will be a novel new
experience...."

She came right up to me, and started to rub her
breasts sensuously up and down me - she was shorter
than me, of course, and so she stood on the tips of
her toes to thrust them into my pecs, then lowered
herself so I felt her nipples run all the way down my
body.  I couldn't help myself - I moaned from deep
inside me:  it must be some sort of primitive
instinct, I suppose. Then she came and wrapped her
arms around me, and rubbed herself up and down over my
erect dick - I felt her scratchy pubic hair against my
exposed dick head, and almost shot my load there and
then.  I was moaning uncontrollably now, and arching
my back as if to try to get my dick closer to her -
again, it must be a male reflex, as I'd certainly
never been taught this.

"Easy, slave boy.... My, you are excited, aren't
you...."  As she said this she wiped her long fingers
across my forehead, then let them trickle lightly down
over my face to caress my lips.

"What a pity we can't kiss, with that vile thing in
your mouth.  Still, even though you're shackled and
helpless, it won't stop us having real fun...."

With this she literally climbed on to me - she put her
arms around my neck, pulled herself upwards and rested
he feet on the shafts of the trap.  Then slowly, ever
so slowly, she lowered her body so that my dick,
slicked as it was with pre-cum, slid into her cunt!

I'd never felt anything like it in my whole life - the
sensuous, moist warmth of it, and the way in which he
muscles gripped me.  She started to rock up and down
gently, and in response to this my body thrust itself
backwards and forwards.  Her arms slipped down my back
and she pulled her body close to mine, so that her
pert breasts were forced into my hard muscle, and she
raked her fingers up and down me in her passion and
ecstasy.

It didn't take long- I was on the edge of cumming
already before she started this fucking, and it took
only a few thrusts in and out before I shot
uncontrollably.  I would have cried out with passion
if I could have, and my own cries would have mirrored
hers, I suppose - she was, I realised, making one hell
of a noise, and I hopes that there weren't other
slaves around to hear!

She slid herself off me, and stood there,  again
looking at me.

"That was your first time, wasn't it?"

I nodded, and tried to make "Yes" noises again.

"Good - I like it when I take a man's cherry!  It's
quite a reverse of the situation that used to prevail,
you know, when big studs like you would have been
roaming around trying to fuck every inexperienced girl
they could.  You're the tenth virgin I've introduced
to sex.... Did you like it?"

I nodded vigorously again.

"Well, we shall have to see if we can't fit in a few
more of these little excursions when my brother and
Scott aren't using you - you've got a nice dick, thick
and long, that really pleasures me, and I wouldn't
want to waste it.  Now you know what fun it is, we
shall have to repeat the experience.  Now, let me
clean myself up a bit...."

She went to the trap and took some tissue out of her
purse, and I saw her dabbing at herself with it.  I
marvelled at the difference in her body to mine as she
flaunted it in front of me - the difference in her
ass, as it's perfect pear shape bent as she moved,
and, of course, her breasts as they swayed with her
exertions.   But I didn't have long to enjoy the view
- she slipped her dress back over her head and
smoothed it down, then came and picked up my G-string
off the floor.

"I suppose I'd better put this back on you",  she
commented.  "Although Jason had you mowing naked the
other evening, I think it would be a bit suspicious if
we went back to the house with you totally unclothed
when you set out with it on!"

It's bad enough having to put your own G-string on,
and on that first occasion when Master Scott had done
it, I'd hated that, too.  But having a beautiful woman
fondling my dick and balls as she slid them into the
tiny pouch and asked me if I was comfortable, was
something else!  If I hadn't shot such a huge load
only moments before I'd have had another painful
erection, and, as it was, I only went just a little
way erect.  I didn't much like having her thread the
back string up my ass crack, as she pulled it too
tight at first and I could feel it cutting into the
tender flesh of my ass hole underneath.  But as soon
as I murmured in protest, and shuffled a bit, she saw
the problem and loosened it.

You'd have thought, wouldn't you, that after fucking
me and being so intimate in the way that only a man
and a woman can be, that she'd have let me jog gently
back to the house?  But it was as if some maniacal
fury overtook her, and she commanded me to run flat
out, and flogged away at my naked ass unmercifully
with the whip!

I arrived completely out of breath, and I think Tony
was a bit surprised to see the state I was in as he
thought that Miss Linda-Anne was "only s woman" and
therefore a gentle driver.

There was no respite for me, however, as it as still
only lunchtime, and so I had to spend the afternoon
cutting grass with Joe.  Tony did undo the bit for
this, and as we worked away together Joe and I broke
training  and exchanged a few words with each other.

"So.... I see you ponies are both being specially
favoured", he said mischievously.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Steve!  I know Jack's been fucked by the
mistress, and now you have, too!  I think she must
have a thing for ponies... I wonder if she'll extend
her favours to those of us who pull the mowers, too?
Will you put in a good word for me, or does she always
want you gagged with that bit.... I suppose that
cramps your style, doesn't it?"

"Joe.. How did you know?  And yes, I hate the bit.  I
hate it all the time, every day.  And it's especially
hurtful when I want to lick, and kiss, and shout...."

"So it's true, then..."

"Yes.  But how did you know?"

"Easy, Steve!  In spite of her running you up into a
complete sweat on the way back, you look like a man
who's just had sex - all your body was flushed, your
nostrils were flaring, and there was that smell of sex
all over you:  the scent of the woman steaming up from
you.  And, in any case, I was mowing down by the
service gate earlier and had just stopped to pee, and
I saw you!"

"You watched us?"  I was almost incredulous, and not a
little cross.

"Sure did.  Best performance I've ever seen - her
riding your dick like that.  How did it feel to be
completely subjugated, and used just as her
plaything?"

I really didn't want to answer, as my glorious feeling
of elation was ebbing away.  I knew that I was a man,
and a man needs to be in control of things.  And when
I lost my virginity, I wasn't.

End Of Part 7

THE WILLING SLAVE, Part 8


By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Tony put my bit back in before I had to go and meet my
owner and Master Scott from the tram stop later that
afternoon, and I trotted there gently but was made to
race back, as I expected.

Master Jason and Master Scott seemed to be in a very
good mood, and were chatting away as we sped home,
although I couldn't pick up on what they were saying.
They stayed in that night and so I had an easy time of
it, although my fellow slaves in the dorm were
laughing at me a bit as Joe, rather unkindly, I
thought, described how Miss Linda-Anne had fucked me
and taken my virginity.

It seemed that my owner and Master Scott had some
contract or other in the city, as for the next few
days I ran them to the tram stop, then returned to
help out at the house by pulling the mowers with Joe -
or, at least, that was the idea.  As soon as Miss
Linda-Anne saw that I was around, she would come out
and ask Tony if she could "borrow" the pony and trap
for an hour or so in order that she could do
"errands".  As his employer's daughter, he never
refused her, and so Tony would shout for me to leave
the mowing and get back in to the trap.  Joe always
gave me a big wink as this happened, and made little
gestures (concealed from Tony and Miss Linda-Anne, of
course) to indicate that we would soon be fucking.

The first day this happened I heard Tony say "Well,
miss, here he is, and he's not got his bit in - you
won't be wanting that, will you, as it's only Master
Jason and Master Scott who need that? And I don't need
to manacle him to the shafts either, do I? - he's
extremely docile and well behaved, and properly
trained."

"No, Tony... I think you'd better put the bit in, and
cuff him to the shafts.... It's the only kind way to
treat him:  if he has to be constrained like that when
he's with my brother, he'd better get used to it, and
it's doing him no favours to let him run 'free'.  So
harness him properly, please."

When I heard this my heart sank - I thought I'd be
able to run as I was supposed to as we did her
errands, and was so disappointed when he bit was
strapped in and my wrists were cuffed leaving me as
immobile as ever.  But no sooner had we set off than I
saw that the only "errand" she had in mind was to fuck
me!  We never even left the estate, and just pulled up
under the shade of one of the huge oaks at the remote
end.

"Ah, pony boy... You're a very good fuck, you
know.....", she almost whispered to me as she slid
from the seat and came and stood next to me.  "I love
having a man completely helpless and totally in my
power as I fuck him."

As she was speaking her long fingers with her sharp
nails was first caressing my dick and balls in their
tiny silk pouch, then sliding down over my belly to
take hold of them.  The very feeling of being touched
like this was enough to make me hard, and my dick
almost burst out of its confinement.  She groped at me
for a few more moments, then almost tore my G-string
off in her eagerness to explore me completely.  My
dick was rigidly at attention, and my breath, through
my mouth wedged open with the bit was already starting
to come in little gasps as my excitement mounted.

She came and faced me again then, and ran those hands
all over my chest and belly, playfully tweaking my
nipples and causing me to buck backwards and forwards
to try to escape her sharp talons.  But she didn't
persist at any of this for long - she wanted to ride
my dick with a terrible urgency, and she soon stripped
off her clothes as she had the first time and
"climbed" up me so that she could lower herself onto
my erect cock.

Well, as I'd felt the first time, it was amazing - to
have my dick gripped and pleasured like that by her
experienced cunt.  But at the same time I felt so
dreadfully humiliated as I wasn't able to do anything
at all about it - I just had to stand there whilst she
pleasured herself, and all I was able to do was buck
my body up and down a little in response to the waves
of pleasure I was getting through my dick. It's not
right, is it?  A man ought to be in  control, ought to
be thrusting with his ass and thighs, and not just be
standing there, helpless.

It was over remarkably quickly, and she seemed then to
take an almost perverse pleasure in caressing my body
as I stood there naked and helpless, and then in
shoe-horning me back into the tiny pouch.

"You are so much better than that other pony, Jack",
she told me.  "Longer and thicker - and he always
expects to be able to try to make it happen, rather
than allowing me to take my pleasure.  I think he
forgets he' s a slave and only there to serve, and not
to enjoy himself.  Whereas you don't have any choice!
Still, it's a pity you've got that bit in - I like
some foreplay, and I've trained Jack to go down on me
first:  that tongue of his really does something for
me.

I almost shuddered - was it the sweat evaporating from
me that had cooled me, or was it the thought of having
to probe my tongue into that moist hole of hers?  I
thought silently to myself that if I was able to
control things, there was no way that anything like
that would happen - I'd be thrusting away to give
myself pleasure, and never mind what she wanted!  It
was so bloody humiliating to have this girl, who was
two years younger than me, calling all the shots like
this.  I didn't really have long to speculate, though,
as she soon got back into the driving seat, said "Trot
home", and slapped my ass with the leather reins.

I had about ten days of being used like this, and I
saw what was meant by being used as an animated dildo!
 I asked Jack about it one night, as he was a bit
pissed off because Miss Linda-Anne was no longer
asking her father if she could borrow Jack for
errands, and he'd had to revert to jerking himself off
every night.  "Well", he said, "I suppose I don't like
it really - she won't let me get on top of her and
fuck her, and I have to lie there whilst she rides up
and down on my dick.  Still, it's better than
nothing.... Better than jerking myself off all the
time."

"We ought to be grateful", he continued, "as I don't
suppose that there will be any opportunities for
fucking once she's married - you and I will be back to
wanking, or, most probably, you'll be getting fucked
by your owner.  I've seen him admiring your ass!"

Joe joined in at that point, and said "Don't worry,
Steve - Master Jason is at least pretty good looking,
slim, and fit.  Taking his dick won't be so bad, once
you get used to it.  Suppose you were sold to a big,
old, fat guy who wanted to fuck you?  That would e
pretty gross, wouldn't it?"

"Look, Joe, I thought that after being trained as a
pony that's all I'd do... They told me at my training
ranch that owners would pay a premium price for me
because of my training, and so they wouldn't want to
fuck me...."

"How naive!  Most owners fuck all their slaves, even
if it's only once or twice - it's a way of
establishing who's really in control.  And I think
they're all a bit bored with their wives, and like a
bit of variety, anyway - most of the women would
understand a master fucking his slave, after all, but
would be pretty pissed off if they went for another
woman, or a whore, or something. Those women know that
owners need to be complete masters of their slaves,
and fucking them is one way of exerting that control."

"Joe, you've been a slave a lot longer than me, and
you've been in a lot of other places - were you always
fucked, then?"

"Always.  This is the first place I've been to where
the owner didn't fuck me. Or let the overseer do it -
Tony seems to take after the owner in that respect,
and leaves us alone."

We carried on talking a bit, as guys do together, then
went to sleep as usual.  I slept well, probably
because I was not so absolutely exhausted as I usually
was, and was ready to face the new day as usual.  To
my astonishment, as I stood behind Jack at the front
door, my owner and Master Scott came out first!  Each
of them had small canvas holdalls which they threw
into the back of the trap, then climbed in themselves.

"Right, slave.  We're off to my friend's place on the
other side of the city.  It's about eighteen miles,
and we can't take the tram as we need you and the trap
there - a number of us are getting together to compare
our ponies, and we may arrange a few races and other
activities to really test you."  Master Jason's words
cut through me - eighteen miles would be really
pushing my limit at the best of times, but with two of
them and their luggage to pull, I almost doubted that
I could do it.

"We're not due there until lunch time, and we're
having this early start, so there will be no need to
go at a fast pace, but neither Master Scott nor I like
to see a pony slacking and dawdling - so we expect to
see you trotting briskly this morning, and I won't
hesitate to 'encourage' you  if necessary.  Now, off
you go..."  He did "encourage" me at that point with a
light slash of his whip across my ass, and I set off.


My training hadn't really prepared me for this - I'd
done a lot of long runs at the Double J, of course,
but that was a long time ago, and with a light trap.
In the five years I'd been here almost all my work had
been much shorter distances, and for long distance
work you really do need to have endless practice.   So
it was with some trepidation that I set out, and I had
no idea of the route, either, so there were no
"landmarks" by which I could pace myself and divide up
the journey - you know "Ah, so now we're half way...
At that intersection we've done three fifths of the
journey..." and so on: it makes a huge difference to
your mental attitude if you can see that you are
making progress like that, rather than just having
your body haul itself over the endless miles.

But there was nothing for it - I just had to start
out, then go at it:  I suppose it's possible that I
might collapse along the way, but what could I do?  I
was manacled into the trap, with absolutely no way
out, and my owner and master Scott were impatient to
be on their journey. They had total control of me and
there was no way I could avoid the cut of the whip if
I failed to perform to their satisfaction.

It really was hell.  And I think that my owner
realised it was no use expecting me to run very fast,
or to keep "encouraging" me.  I kept hearing Master
Scott suggesting to him that he should use the whip,
but he seemed to be saying that on this occasion we
had to let the pony make the pace.  He was even
considerate when we came to a roadside faucet, and let
me stop to drink - it was difficult with my bit in,
and Master Jason even took it out so that I could
refresh myself properly - although he fastened it
again before we set off!

We went, I suppose, on a more or less straight line
directly through the centre of the city, and I saw
again the city centre traffic with which I'd been so
familiar in those days when I'd been happily serving
my former owner.  It was midmorning as we went through
the heart of the business district, and I was very
conscious that all the other traffic was in "uniform"
of Ts and shorts, and not mostly naked, in a tiny
G-string, like me!  When we had to stop at
intersections for traffic signals, pedestrians would
become aware of me and point me out to their
companions. I hated it - I knew I had nothing to be
ashamed of as I was in perfect physical condition, and
my "costume" was not of my  choosing, after all - a
slave has absolutely no control over what his owner
makes him wear, does he?

I know that in olden times men with great bodies like
mine would enter into competitions where they wore
almost as little as I did, and were proud to display
themselves, and thrilled at the way that other men and
women were envious of their muscular form. But in
spite of telling myself all of this repetitively, I
still felt that flush of embarrassment rising over me
as they stood there and pointed at me.  Perversely, I
think Master Jason and Master Scott relished all the
attention - it was as if they were saying "Look, we're
so rich that we can afford a magnificent animal like
this to pull us along.  Aren't we splendid, and so
much in advance of the fashion that we keep our slave
near-naked for our amusement?"

Well, I'm not going to bore you with all the tedious
detail of how difficult a slave finds it to actually
carry out his owner's orders sometimes.  Suffice it to
say that, being the type of guy I am, I managed to
find the reserves of strength - and, frankly, sheer
courage and guts - to keep going until we arrived at
our destination.  Once there, though, I collapsed -
literally - falling to the ground as my legs finally
gave way, and l lay on the hard ground with them
twitching feebly as my lungs strained away to make up
my oxygen deficit.

Master Scott seemed really pissed off, as when I went
down I pulled the shafts of the trap with me, of
course, and that tipped the seat and almost threw them
out.  But my owner seemed very concerned, and called
the slaves of his friend to come and "do something".
They quickly unlocked me, and a couple of burly laves
put their arms under mine, hoisted me to my feet, and
half led, half carried, half dragged me around to the
slave quarters.

I was expecting to go into some sort of dorm as we had
at "home" - the odd visiting slave always bunked down
in the spare bed with the rest of us.  But instead the
two slaves took me into a barn - a real barn, with
straw on the floor and, down one side, a number of
stalls containing real horses.  One of these stalls
was much larger than the others, and I was led in
there.   I stood, looking around, and a man appeared
outside.  I knew he must be a free man as he was
wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Jeans, and he leaned
on the low fence separating the stall from the passage
way.

"I'm the overseer here.  You can call me 'sir'.  This
little escapade the owner has arranged is a real pain
in the butt for me, and you visiting ponies had better
be careful - I don't want it to be any more trouble
than it already is.  Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"It's good to see you're well trained!  Anyway, as
well as the owner's pony, and you, there will be two
other visiting ponies.  You'll live together in this
stall for as long as you're here, as the owners have
put together this mad idea of holding their own
private equestrian event - a little racing, dressage,
that kind of rubbish!  As far as I'm concerned, it's
completely foolish to get trained animals like you to
do stuff that's not your normal work, but the owners
pay the bills, and what they say goes.  You've run all
the way from the South, I understand, and you must be
whacked!  So rest here:  the other visitors aren't due
until later this afternoon, and if your owner and his
guest want to go out again, I think they'll probably
do so in the automobile we keep here - my boss just
doesn't know how to spend his money, and we have one
of those things as well as a couple of properly
trained ponies."

"There's slave chow freely available in the hopper
over there", he went on, indicating the back wall,
"And that spigot over there is drinking water.  You'd
better decide amongst yourselves which corner you're
going to crap and piss in - these stables are for real
horses and they do it in the straw.  We 'muck out'
every day, so provided you keep it all in one place,
it shouldn't be too unpleasant.  I expect it will be a
bit of a hardship having to sleep on this straw,
rather than on those soft beds all you ponies are used
to, but think of it as a little holiday - you've gone
camping in the countryside, and you expect to 'rough
it' a bit."

He must be joking, surely, I thought - anyone who had
slept in the beds in our dorm would know that the one
think they weren't was soft!

"Oh, and one other thing.  Take off that ridiculous
G-string.  All the activities whilst you're here are
going to be on the estate, so the public ordinances
about slave nudity don't apply.  All your owners have
decided that, in keeping  with the general pony theme,
you're all going to be naked all the time - after all,
who has ever seen a real pony wearing clothes:  it
would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

There was no point in arguing with him.  Of course it
would be ridiculous to see a real pony wearing
clothes.  But we were not ponies - we were pony
slaves, men, not animals.  And it wasn't ridiculous
for us to be clothed - those scraps of cloth around
your loins are what distinguishes men from animals.
But I just smiled weakly, said "Sir, yes, sir", and,
as he watched, undid the string holding my G and
pulled it away from my body.

"Well, you're a fine looking specimen, I'll say that
for you", the overseer went on.  "I know all you pony
slaves tend to be exceptional, but you've got a
physique that's better than most I've seen.  One of
the visiting ponies is very tall and muscular, but
he's a black, and I think that, overall, you've got
the edge.  Still, we'll see, when we have the grooming
and display event!  Now, get down and get some rest -
I expect you need it - before the others arrive."

Although there are all these ideas about how much fun
it is to roll around in straw, actually it's not very
pleasant - the sharp ends stick into you.  But I was
so fucking tired after my run that I think I could
have slept on one of those beds of nails you see
conjurors using.  I drifted off to sleep, and was
woken by a resounding slap on my bare ass.

I came awake, and sat up, rubbing my eyes.  There,
facing me, were three more guys who I knew instantly
must be slaves as, like me, they were naked.  Each in
his own way was so extraordinary, though, that I
almost thought that I must still be asleep and
dreaming.  The most remarkable one stepped forward and
said "Hi, I'm the resident pony here.".

I reached out for his arm to read his name in the
time-honoured way that slaves do to greet each other,
but he went on "Don't bother with my proper name -
call me 'Spot' like everyone else does!  You must be
Steve - a good plain name, for a good plain pony, I
guess."

The reason that I was so surprised to see the guy, and
the origin of his nickname, was that his owner had
turned him into a piebald!  Huge patches of black were
tattooed over him, and, just as in a piebald animal,
they were quite large and irregularly shaped.  He was
otherwise really fair skinned naturally, I suppose, as
his non-tattooed skin was tanned to that light
milk-brown that fair people go, and some of his hair
was a natural blond.  But where one of the "patches"
of dark ran across his head, part of his hair had been
dyed dark, too, so that the line of the patch was
unbroken.  One particularly startling patch ran across
his belly, and half his remaining small patch of pubic
hair was dyed black, and half of his dick was tattooed
to keep the line of the patch running!  As he turned
around, I saw that they'd contrived to arrange it so
that one ass was mostly black and the other mostly
tan, and a big patch on his neck also meant that the
lower half of one side of his face had been tattooed.

He saw my look of astonishment, and said "To save you
asking, because everyone does.... Yes, it did hurt.
This much tattooing takes ages, and it really hurts -
especially when they did my dick.  And yes, it's a
real effort all the time - every week I have to spend
time colouring the roots of the dark hair as my
natural colour grows through.  But my master thinks
having a piebald pony slave makes him something
special, so here I am."

The second slave was the biggest black I'd ever seen -
he had at least three inches on my six foot-something,
and he was, shall we say, "in proportion" - a huge
long dick did nothing to conceal very low hanging
balls swinging between his massive thighs.  He grinned
and said "Don't bother to look at my name, either -
they call me 'Nigger' as I'm so black. I'm a pure bred
salve from Chad -  my parents got an immigration visa
just before I was born, and they never thought to
check whether that meant their new son would have to
go into the Lottery!  I'm this very dark black because
there's no white men anywhere in my ancestry - most of
your American blacks have at least one white who's
fucked a black woman somewhere in their lineage.  And,
before you ask, my owner keeps me specially prepared,
just as Spot's does - I'd have about as much hair as
you have, if I wasn't kept totally shaved: my owner
won't allow even a trace of hair on me anywhere as he
wants all my musculature to really stand out, and I
have to 'polish' myself with slave oil all the time,
too, so that I glint in the sunshine."

"Hi...", I said, rather in awe of him, and shook his
outstretched hand.

I hadn't had a really good look at the third slave ,as
he'd been standing a bit behind the other two, but he
stepped forward and took my arm to read my name, and I
did the same to him.

"Well, I don't have a nickname", he said.  "I'm just
plain Ted.  Hi, Steve... I see your owner likes to
have his pony 'au naturel'!"

He was looking at my naked body as he said this, and I
saw at once the point of his remark as poor Ted was
almost disfigured with the rings he wore.  Both of his
nipples sported large diameter, heavy gold rings that
would have dragged his tits right down if his pecs had
not been so well developed.  A third ring protruded
from his nostrils - I guessed it must go through his
septum - and hung down so that it almost covered his
top lip.  But most remarkable was the thick ring
around his dick and his balls - it must have been at
least an inch and a half thick and was cinched very
tight around him at the root - it had the effect of
lifting his whole tackle kind of "up and out", so that
his dick was thrust well out in front of him even
though he didn't seem to be erect.

Seeing me staring at him, he went on "It's a bit
strange at first like this, but you get used to it
after a time - believe me, you'll wish you were
cinched like me after we've been running totally naked
for a bit - it's OK when you're in shorts and you have
a it of support, but when you have to run totally
unsupported, this ring is a real help.  After you've
got used to the different balance, it makes it a lot
less sore for you as your balls don't damage
themselves by slapping in to your thighs all the
time."

"But does your owner make you run naked a lot, Ted?"

"Yes.  Our spread is so far out of the city that we
don't get tram service, and when my owner needs to go
there he has to use an automobile - he's always
griping about the cost!  So I'm used almost
exclusively on the farm, pulling him around as he
inspects the field slaves, and he says there's no
point in spending money on even shorts or me,
therefore.  All the outside slaves on our spread are
naked, actually - and on those rare occasions when he
takes me to the city to pull him around, it feels very
strange to wear a T and shorts - they kind of itch,
when they're not used to them."

"You mean your owner takes you to the city - I thought
you said he went by automobile.", Spot cut in.

"Yes, he does.  And I go in the trunk, and when we
park in a parking garage in the centre he lets me out
and he hires a trap for me to pull."

We all listened with astonishment to this - I'd only
been in an automobile three or four times in my whole
life, and here was a slave talking about going in one
regularly. I could see that the other guys were
impressed, too.

Conversation was cut off at this point, though, as the
overseer appeared.  "Right, you ponies.  Your owners
have decided to bring forward one of the events they'd
planned for tomorrow.  They're about to eat dinner,
and after that they need entertaining.  So get
yourselves into the showers and clean yourselves up -
you are going to be on show in the main house, and I
know you'll all want to be a credit to your owners."

Although we were living in the stables, our areas
wasn't locked or anything, of course - we were all
slaves and knew that there was no escape.   The proper
horses in the other stalls had to be kept locked in to
prevent them running off, but we were not going to do
anything like that.  So we all walked together to the
open area at the end, and used one of the hoses that
was there as a makeshift shower to really scrub
ourselves clean.  We had to shave each other as there
was no mirror or anything, and I was glad that Ted
seemed to be happy to help Nigger - I didn't think I
could have done what he did, running the razor all
over Nigger's huge body to make sure it was completely
smooth, moving his dick to one side to get at his
balls, and finally even shaving down Nigger's ass
crack as the giant black bent over and gripped his
ankles.

Nigger had some of the slave oil and rubbed it himself
all over his magnificent body, but Ted had to help him
to reach the small of his back.  "Be careful with
that, man", Nigger told him sharply, "And don't waste
it.  My owner says it costs a lot, as it's a special
formula to shine the skin without clogging he pores -
when I'm running and start to sweat, it can still come
out.  My owner says it enhances me, actually, as the
sweat 'beads' on top of the oil and adds to the
sparkle."

"You're a vain fucker!", Ted replied.  "Worrying about
the shine on your skin.  At least I don't have to
bother with these rings - they're solid gold, my owner
says.  Well, at least they don't tarnish, or anything.
 But I think I'm going to put a drop on my dick, to
make it look a bit special."

"Do you want some, Steve?", he continued.  "It's in my
hand here, and I can easily rub it on your dick, too."

I started in amazement as I'd been thinking about
something else.  I had to think of a reply very
quickly, as I didn't want those other guys to think I
was a prude or anything, but, equally, I didn't want
Ted touching my dick - for one thing, if he rubbed
that oil in, I'd get an erection.  "No, thanks, Ted.
But my owner likes me natural, as one of you said
earlier.  I'd better not risk putting any of that on
me as he might get angry."

"What event do you think they're going to do tonight,
anyway", Spot now asked.  "I had all my hair re-tinted
yesterday, and I heard my owner saying something about
racing, and dressage.  But I don't see we can do that
in the house. Well, we'll find out soon enough, I
suppose.  Not that it matters - there's not much we
can do about it, anyway, is there?"

"What's it like in the house, Spot?", I asked.

"Dunno, Steve.  I've never been in there before - the
owner keeps a pretty rigorous distinction between
inside and outside slaves, and I live out in the
outdoor slave quarters."

I was about to tell him that that as the same system
my owner used, too, when our conversation was cut
short by the arrival of the overseer again.

"Right, are you guys all ready?", he asked.

"Sir, yes, sir", we chorused.  It was good to see that
all the others were well trained, like me - if we were
going to work together, it's always good to work with
guys you can trust, isn't it?

He led us out of the stables and across the yard.
Somehow, being with the three other naked guys made me
feel better - I hated being exposed when I was the
only naked slave around, but with the others it made
it seem better.  And, anyway, at least I wasn't almost
"freakish" as they were, especially Spot!

We went in through the rear door of the vast mansion,
went along a couple of what were evidently service
corridors, then up what were clearly the "back
stairs", or perhaps a fire escape.  Opening  door on
the second floor, the overseer ushered us out into a
luxuriously carpeted hall way, furnished with
occasional tables with big lamps on them.  It felt so
strange  - for one thing, although I'm immensely fit,
my legs were aching from climbing the stairs:  for the
last seven years, I realised, I'd never been up a
staircase:  I had to climb a couple of steps here and
there, but I lived and worked all on one level, and
stairs just didn't figure in my existence.  Although I
could do it absolutely without thinking about it - I
suppose it's one of those things your body's reflexes
learn and never forget - it had left me feeling that
I'd used muscles I didn't usually use.  And then there
was the general atmosphere - my feet were standing in
luxurious carpet, and I couldn't stop my toes
wriggling sensuously in it:  I hadn't experienced
comfort like that since I left my family home;  and
the air conditioning actually felt cold as the air
wafted gently over my naked body - I don't suppose I'd
been cooled like this in all that time, either.

"You slaves wait here, in a line, and keep absolutely
quiet and still", the overseer said.  "In fact, line
up, backs to the wall, and clasp your hands behind
your necks.  Although you don't use it, that's the
'display' position that domestic slaves are taught to
adopt when they're otherwise idle."

We all stood there, almost afraid to move, and waited,
and waited.  Occasionally "domestic" slaves, in their
neat Ts and shorts, would go past, but they never
spoke to us, or even cast us anything more than a
quick glance - I guessed that they, too, were well
trained, and were probably extremely busy with their
owner entertaining.   Some of them were wheeling
covered trolleys, and as they went past the most
amazingly appetising smells reached us - I hadn't had
anything other than slave chow for so long that I'd
almost forgotten what "real food" tasted like, but
these savoury smells brought it all back and my mouth
filled uncontrollably with spit as I salivated
heavily.

We stood there for what seemed like an age - although
I'd got used to standing still for long periods as my
owner and Master Scott never seemed to work to time,
this was a bit different - for one thing, when you're
in a trap and standing still you can shuffle a bit and
flex your knees slightly, and so on.  But when your
back and ass is pressed hard up against a corridor
wall and there's always the possibility of people
coming past, that relief is denied you.  It felt so
strange standing there with three other totally naked
guys in surroundings that were almost "normal" -
carpets, nice lamps, soft furnishings.... I'd almost
got used to being partially nude when I was outside,
and to being totally naked in the slave quarters, but
standing here, in a "normal" corridor, really brought
home to me how different my life really now was.

The overseer did come back eventually, though, and
ushered us in through big double doors into a huge
formal dining room, where the remains of a lavish meal
- and lots of bottles - were still spread on the
enormous table.  Scattered around it were five men -
my owner and Master Scott, and three others -  I
assumed that these men were the owners of Spot,
Nigger, and Ted.

They all seemed to be slightly drunk, and were arguing
about something in that very kind of boisterous way
that guys do when they're a little worse for wear.

"Look", one of them said very loudly, "I say we should
accumulate the marks these ponies get throughout the
week, to get an overall 'best'.  And if we're doing
that, some of the tests are objective:  who gets to
the finishing line first.  But some of  them are very
subjective, like all the stuff we're doing tonight.
It's not fair if Scott judges in this part, too, as
then there will be two of us who are familiar with the
one pony, and may mark him higher.  As he doesn't have
a pony of his own to enter, I vote that Scott doesn't
take part in the judging here tonight."

"No!", Master Jason cut in.  "We all know Scott and
think he's a good bloke.  I can't believe he'd favour
my pony just because he's more used to him than he is
to the others.  So I think we should let him play a
full part - if he's not allowed to judge them for
their bodies, he'll miss out on a lot of the fun."

They all  carried on arguing, whilst I stood here and
shivered inside at the thought of what might be going
to happen to me - what was all this about judging our
bodies?

The men all totally ignored us as they continued to
argue, but at last it seemed to be settled -  Master
Scott was not going to be allowed to judge for
himself, but he could take a full part in it as an
"advisor" to Master Jason.

"Get one of your servants back in here and tell them
to fetch a flip-chart stand and some paper", one of
the men called out, and the guy who I guessed must be
the host picked up a phone and snapped some orders
into it.  The doors opened a few minutes later and two
servants came in with one of those easel things, a big
roll of paper, and some marker pens.  I cold tell that
they must be slaves, as they were almost naked - they
wore tiny G-strings, rather like the one I was nor
used to except they were a little larger and properly
opaque (or perhaps their dicks and balls were not as
large as mine!), and around their necks they had black
silk bands that held black bow ties at the front -
they were in the ultimately minimalist waiters'
uniform, I suppose.

The host drew columns on the paper headed Nigger,
Spot, Ted and Steve, neatly underlined them, then
wrote as the name of the first row "Body".

"OK, guys", he told his companions, having banged the
table to get silence.  "So this is the first
competition.  In the next twenty minutes examine all
the ponies and award your marks out of 20 for general
body condition.  We'll then add up the scores, and the
pony with the highest overall marks will be the winner
and will get four points, down to the one with the
lowest overall marks who will get one point.  We'll
use this "positional" marking all the way through, and
at the end of all the competitions the pony with the
highest aggregate mark will be declared the best.
Does everyone understand?"

Ass you'd expect with a set of strong-willed masters
who were all slightly drunk, there was a lot of
shouting and arguing about the way the scoring should
be done - "how many marks shall I set aside in the
twenty for muscle tone?" one of them asked as the sort
of thing that was going on.  "If I award a maximum of
five and someone else uses a base of ten, it won't
work."

"Yes it will", was the shouted reply, "Provided you
use the same base of five for each pony.  You'll use
more of your twenty for some other characteristic of
more importance to you.  So it will be consistent."

And so it went on, until the host finally said "Cut
the crap, guys... I'm eager to get started...."

They told each of us to go to one corner of the room,
and there we were visited by each owner in turn.  They
all did it slightly differently, but effectively they
did a complete "owner's inspection of me" - hands ran
all over my naked body, feeling my musculature and
general tone.  They probed my ass muscles and my thigh
muscles with their fingers to gauge the power of my
primary pulling muscles.  Hands were pressed into my
ribs and around my waist to make sure there wasn't
even the slightest trace of a layer of fat forming,
and to get a feeling for the capacity of my lungs.
And then it got more intimate - they cupped my balls
and "weighted" them in the palms of their hands to get
an impression of their weight and size, before moving
on to my dick.  It seemed that apart from Master Jason
and Master Scott the other owners were not used to
examining a slave who still had a 'skin, and there was
a lot of laughter as they slid it backwards and
forwards to reveal my dick head - I couldn't help
starting to get an erection as this was going on, and
they liked that - although I hated it, and a flush of
embarrassment swept up from my chest to cover my face.

Most of them stopped there, but one owner told me to
kneel so that he could open my mouth and feel around
inside.  "Nice white teeth, boy.  I see Jason's had
you modified a little to take the bit better, though.
Are you properly voice trained?"

He pulled his finger out of my mouth - I was glad, as
I could taste the food he'd been eating on it, and it
was almost making me drool.

"Sir, yes, sir.  I'm fully voice trained, sir.  But
Master Jason uses the bit every day to show that he is
totally in control, sir."

The man just smiled at this, then said, as if it was
the most natural thing in the world "One final test -
bend over and pull your ass cheeks apart - I need to
inspect your hole."

I though I must have misheard him, but realised that
he was serious.  What was I to do?  If I disobeyed him
I'd lose points, and make Master Jason look foolish.
But if I did as he'd instructed, I'd be utterly
humiliated.  I stood there, wavering, but he snapped
again  "Didn't you hear me, boy?"

That was it - with my heart pounding at the thought of
what was about to happen to me I bent over at the
waist and reached behind me to pull my cheeks apart.
I stood there waiting for the inevitable, and then it
happened - I felt the tip of his finger scrape down my
ass crack and rest lightly on my pucker.  I shuffled
uncomfortably, and in return the man increased the
pressure on me.  I could feel his finger almost
probing at my hole, and I hated it - but at the same
time something inside me told me that this was a new,
strange sensation that wasn't wholly unpleasant.

The man stopped his pressure, and I heard him spit,
then a moment later his finger was back.  This time
the pressure increased and increased until a shiver of
complete pleasure ran through me - his finger had
penetrated my sphincter, and I could feel it inside
me.  His other hand was now resting on my backbone, at
the base of my spine, and he pressed down slightly on
that as if to control me, as his finger gently wormed
its way in.  Something very odd was happening to me -
I was getting feelings of the most acutely intense
pleasure as he continued - feelings the like of which
I'd never experienced before and which I find it
difficult to describe accurately.  My dick seemed to
know it, too, as without any conscious control on my
part it went completely erect.

The wave of pleasure intensified as his finger was
pulled out, and the man told me I could stand up.  I
was flushing bright red, and my dick was stuck out
rigidly in front of me.  The man was cleaning his
finger on a silk handkerchief, and he looked at me and
grinned.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?  Master Jason has never
used your ass, has he?"

"Sir, yes, Sir.  I mean Sir, no, Sir... I  mean..... "

"Take your time, Steve, boy."

"Sir, Master Jason has never been up my ass, and
neither has anyone else, Sir."

"How interesting!  But I think you found my initial
exploration quite enjoyable, didn't you...?"

"Sir, I don't know, Sir.  Sir, I..... I.....  I really
don't know, Sir."

"Well, I think your owner certainly does have a prize
in you - a really good body, and a virgin, too.  And
one who looks as if he'll really take to fucking, once
he's been broken in!  I might even make him an offer
for you."

With that he walked away, and I was left standing
there, very confused.

End Of Part 8