Date: Mon, 21 Jun 2004 09:25:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: You Can't Be Friends With A Slave, Parts 11-12

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part eleven

By Pete Brown  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

A REALLY NICE GUY

Craig stood there and turned the water on.  "I bet
you'd feel better with all that sweat and... stuff...
off you" he said conversationally.  "Come on..."

I was astonished, as he held the shower nozzle and
started to spray me himself.  And when he soaped his
hands and cleaned my dick, he didn't seem to mind at
all:  why hadn't he simply commanded a slave to come
in and do this?  Once he'd washed all the soap off me,
he did something to the shower head, and came and
stood in front of me.  He held the nozzle up to show
me, and asked, quite casually "You know what this is,
I guess?  And what has to happen next?"

"Sir, yes.  I'm going to get an enema.  They did that
to me when I was fucked last time."

I looked around for the slaves who would surely now
come and do it, but Craig just said gently "Bend over,
then - it's hard with your hands cuffed, I know..."

"Sir, are you going to do it..."

"Yes of course.  Who else?"

"Master Billy-Joe has special slaves to prepare you."

"Well the Colonel uses a lot of slaves, sometimes
quite unnecessarily, I think.  We run this place a
little leaner, at lower cost.   It's not hard to clean
a slave out, anyway.... Any man can do it.... not that
I can see Straughan getting down to it, I suppose."

He gave a little half smile, and I returned it, as we
evidently both thought he same about Straughan and his
elegant but foppish clothes.  There was, just for an
instant, that flickering of a bond that forms between
guys who are going to grow to be buddies.  But I knew
that this couldn't be.

I felt him gently prying my butt apart, then the
warmth of the nozzle probing at my hole - he'd
considerately run some more water through it, so it
was no longer icy cold steel.  It was all so gentle,
the way he did it, not like the rather rough pumping
up that I'd got from Charlie and Coon.  Then he let me
go and sit on a lavatory bowl in order to void myself
- somehow this made me feel better, more human, when
my guts were not just spewing out on to the floor.

He gave me a couple more rinses, then a final general
clean up, and a rough towelling down.  It was all so
gentlemanly, so civilised, somehow, if giving an enema
to a cuffed guy can ever be said to be civilised!

"Bend over again a moment, will you, Steve?", he
asked.  I liked that.  Asking, not ordering.

I felt his cool firm fingers on my butt, then he was
probing at my hole.  I winced, and jerked forward,
involuntarily.

"Still sore are you?"

"Yes, sir. It's a lot better.  But master Billy-Joe,
well, he's very thick.  And the slave he had take me
afterwards...."

"They still cling to the old traditions, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we've got a bit of a problem on our hands.
I've been told to prepare you for the Nubian we bought
last week, and he really is massive - at least as
thick as your master, who I saw at the sauna once -
and twice as long!  But if he fucks you with your ass
still rather delicate, like this, then there'll be a
lot of shouting and unpleasantness as it will really
hurt you. And it ought to be fun."

That was it.  I could take no more.  I didn't care
about his discipliner. I cut in, angrily, "How can it
ever be 'fun'?  Fun to rape a guy, fun to force a dick
up you?  Fun to take his manhood?"

"Oh, Steve, it's such a pity you weren't born a slave!
 Then you'd have learned sex properly, and you'd know
that giving and taking dick is really fun - it's the
best things two guys can do together.  But I'm not
surprised you're prejudiced - I bet you were held down
and couldn't 'play' properly when your owner took you
that first time?  But what's this about taking your
manhood?  They only fucked you, didn't they?"

"Yes, but  a man's not a man when he's taken dick...
He's a fag...."

"Hey, hold on, Steve.  Stop being so judgmental.  If
you thought about it, you'd realise that men were
meant to fuck with each other. And I thought you were
supposed to be educated, and thought about things"

"I am..."

"Well, look at the facts!  Think of the way men all
'team' together - didn't you play in a team at school,
or college?  A lot of man to man bonding there."

"Yes, I was captain of the football squad..."

"And didn't you have a lot of male friends before you
were enslaved?  I bet you knew more men than you did
women, as friends, that is."

"Well, I suppose so."

"Well, see, that's all part of it:  men have a natural
affinity for each other.  And do you like jerking
off?"

"Yes, of course, all guys do..."

"Well why do you think that is?  Isn't it an
anti-survival trait?  If men were only meant to fuck
women, they wouldn't get pleasure from using their
dicks any other way - mother nature and evolution
would see to that.  But because a man can enjoy his
dick, and another man's dick, and because it's natural
and built-in for men to bond together, then it's not
surprising that a lot of guys want to go the whole way
and really show their affection for their buddies, is
it?"

"What do you mean...."

"Look, Steve, you had all these great buddies in the
team, and at work, but you were just too put off by
the propaganda that society puts out to actually do
the right and natural thing, which is to really get to
know them.  To get to know them intimately.  To share
with them fully what it is to be a man."

"What propaganda...?"

"Oh, the relentless pressure from the breeders that
says it's only 'right' to fuck women, and that fucking
with your buddies, in the natural order of things, is
'wrong'.  They have to do that, don't they?"

"Oh, come on. Why do they need to do that?"

"Because they need men to breed with women so that
they get saddled with kids, and debts, and all that
sort of stuff.  They don't want men to enjoy
themselves, to live the lives that men are meant for,
enjoying their bodies, enjoying their buddies, and
enjoying their freedom to live their lives not saddled
with all that baggage."

"Look", Craig went on, "I'm not saying it's wrong to
fuck a woman.  We need to, to carry on the race.  But
you don't need to do it all the time - look at the
mess, look at the risk, look at the responsibilities
it brings, look how it ties you down.... How much
better life would be if you just had sex with your
buddies when you wanted it, then fucked a woman when
you needed to breed.  But most women spend all their
time trying to lure a guy into the shackles of a
'relationship' - didn't you find that?"

Of course I had.  That's exactly what that bitch
Chantelle had done.  I nodded my head.

"See!  It all makes sense, doesn't it? The only pity
in your case is that you didn't find out soon enough.
If only someone had taken you at sixteen and shown you
how men can really enjoy each other!  And then, when
you did get to take a dick, that oaf Billy-Joe had to
spoil it all for you."  He stopped suddenly, and said
"No. Forget that.  I shouldn't criticise your owner."

He went strangely silent, and as I had time to think,
I realised that Craig was going what Billy-Joe had
done the other day - built this whole rationalisation
about why things were the way they were.  It was all
wrong, somehow, just as Billy-Joe had been, but there
wasn't any point in which I could find fault, and the
whole thing just seemed to be stitched together.

What did I care, though?  I was going to be fucked,
whether I liked it or not, and if this guy was
concerned about the size of the dick that was going to
go up me, I really ought to be scared, I guess!

Craig left me standing there and went over to a
cupboard.  He came back with a tube of something, then
told me to bend over again.  Once more I felt his
strong, firm fingers pulling my butt apart, then a
delicious coolness spread from my hole.  It felt so
good - what the fuck was he doing?

"OK, Steve - that's what your owner calls you, isn't
it?"

"Sir, yes.  It's my name, actually."

"A mistake.  Shows your owner isn't thinking right.
All slaves should be re-named as it helps them forget
their past life.  Anyway, no matter... Does your ass
feel better now?"

"Sir, yes, thank you, sir."

"I've given you a mild antiseptic, and an analgesic.
I'm surprised your owner, or Straughan, haven't done
this before.  The antiseptic will help make the
soreness go down, and the analgesic will take away the
stinging you currently experience and will....
well.... will help you take the big black dick they
want to see up you.  But don't say anything, will you?
 I think they want to see you suffer, see you buck and
writhe, hear your screams....   I don't hold with it
personally, and it's little enough I can do for you.
It won't stop you hurting from our Nubian totally, but
it will make it at least bearable."

"Sir, thank you, sir!"  Hey, within the limits within
which he operated, this was a nice guy.  "But sir, if
you don't hold with it, why..."

"Oh, I don't mind a slave being fucked - it helps to
bed you into your new life.  But there's no need for
it to be gratuitously hurtful for you.  The whole
point is to emphasise to the slave that his life has
changed, and that his owner's dick now controls him.
That doesn't mean to say that he has to scream, bleed,
and generally hate it.  Here, when I take a slave's
cherry on the owner's behalf, I try to make the slave
enjoy it:  a slave who likes you is far more likely to
work hard for you, you know.  Now, if I'd been your
owner, you'd have been much further along by now -
you'd have wanted to get more, and to try out your
dick up an ass yourself.  Have you doe that yet?"

"No, sir"  Well, I couldn't really count Grunt, could
I?

"See what I mean?  Fit, young, virile guys like you
who have been introduced to proper sex - real man to
man stuff, that is - generally can't wait to get
started on it themselves. If I'd taken your cherry,
you'd have fucked half the slaves on the Colonel's
estate by now, and would be really enjoying it.  And a
happy slave works harder."

The more he said, the odder it seemed, but I couldn't
find the flaw in his logic anywhere.  He couldn't be
right, and yet where was he wrong?

"Anyway, no matter.  What's done is done.  Now, I'd
better go off and fetch that big Nubian.  He won't be
reticent in wanting your ass, you know - he's been
well trained here.  And in their tribe apparently,
they only go with women when they want sons, and the
rest of the time it's considered only proper to fuck
with your fellow men.  Mind you, he's a bit rough - I
suppose he's always been that way, brought up in the
wild and so on."

Just at that moment there was a huge clap of thunder.
It had been exceptionally humid all day, and it wasn't
just the shame and embarrassment that had been causing
me to sweat so much - the humidity had played its
part.  Another peal - closer.  Then I heard the
thunder of rain drops starting to fall on the roof of
the slave shed.

Craig and I stood there, then his cell phone went off.
He listened attentively, said "Yes, sir, at once!",
and told me to follow him.

We went back through the house to the front door, and
the owner and his lady were saying goodbye to
Chantelle and Billy-Joe, who were about to be escorted
to a large car standing under the portico. There was a
liveried slave chauffeur kneeling on the ground,
holding open the door.  As was I later to learn
"traditional" had it that his uniform was a peaked
cap, a starched white shirt with a bow tie, and a neat
dark blue jacket - the shirt and jacket stopped at his
waist, however, and he was wearing only a dark blue
pouch covering his genitals below that - his hairy
tanned Hispanic butt curved out from under the base of
the jacket.  The idea, I suppose, was to have the
slave appear fully dressed when he was driving, but to
remind him of his slave status by having his butt
bare.

"Ah, Craig", Billy-Joe began. "Miss Chantelle and I
have decided to make a run for it in case this storm
gets worse and the roads flood.  So we won't have time
to see that Nubian of yours buggar my slave.  I
suppose the slave had better just run back to the
Colonel's place... See to it, will you?"

"Sir, wouldn't it be better to put the slave in the
trunk?  This rain is very heavy, and it's tough on a
slave to have to bear the stuff stinging his skin"


"Oh, don't be so silly!  It's almost as if you're
concerned for the slave.  No, he can't go in the
trunk, as I've decided to take Miss Chantelle out to
dinner - assuming the places in this hick town serve
anything better than pig swill.  And don't worry about
his hide - it needs toughening up and a run in the
rain will do him good."

Fucking Billy-Joe!  All us slaves hated working in the
rain, as it really stings your skin.  And this wasn't
just rain, this was a deluge.  I'd be sore all over,
and shivering from the cold by the time I got back to
the Colonel's.

"Very well, sir.  But I was concerned about your asset
- this storm is pretty severe, and if a tree comes
down and injures him... You have a valuable asset
there, sir, and if he's maimed or, worse, killed,
you've got a lot to lose.  Still, I suppose you've got
him insured."

"Good thinking, Craig!   Perhaps he should stay for
the night here."

My spirits rose.  This seemed a humane place, and it
was certainly better than being out in that storm.  On
the major's place work never stopped for bad weather,
and we all hated the rain, and high winds and other
stuff like hail lashing into our pelts.

"I'm sure we can accommodate him, sir.  And we'll send
him off in the morning - I can get one of the drivers
collecting our produce to drop him off as I believe he
calls at the Colonel's next to collect his."

"Excellent, Craig.  But make sure he's fucked tonight,
will you?  After all that build-up, I don't want him
to escape- it's about time he experienced dick again!"

Oh no!  Please, I'd rather run in the rain than have
this Nubian they were talking about fuck me.  I'd seen
pictures of these guys in National Geographic - jet
black skin, at least six seven or eight, and hung in
proportion!

"Certainly, sir.  Now, have a good journey.  And may I
recommend 'Le Lapin Heureuse' in town?  It's probably
the best there is around here - me and my companion
often eat there."

"You dog, you, Craig... Softening her up with food and
wine...?"

Craig didn't reply directly, I noticed, but just
nodded faintly.

Billy-Joe handed Chantelle into the car after they'd
shook hands and the ladies had kissed the air
decorously.  The chauffeur slave got to his feet and
closed the door, got into the driver's cab, and the
car swept away down the drive, the headlights making
barely an impression though the torrential rain.

Craig led me back through the house to the slave shed
- consideration again, I noted, as Billy-Joe would
have taken the dry route himself and made me run
around the outside in the wet.  We stood there,
looking at each other, almost as if we were marooned
by the violence of the weather outside.

"So, I'd better do as your owner says, Steve, and get
you fucked..."

To my amazement, he unbuttoned his work shirt and
slowly pulled it off, to reveal a nice torso.  He had
a pleasing thatch of dark blond hair on his pecs,
sensual-looking nipples that were neither too big nor
too small, and a hard, flat belly with a deep navel.
Straggling up from the top of his Jeans was a little
treasure trail of the dark blond hair, that petered
out at his navel.  He as trim and neat looking, fit
and efficient.  He reached down and flipped his boots
off casually - we didn't wear socks - then, as I
watched, undid the leather belt on his Jeans, opened
the top button, and slid down his zip.  As all guys do
he looked pretty awkward as he hopped around getting
the tight, tapered-leg Jeans off, but what was left
was worth seeing - dazzlingly white briefs that seemed
to emphasise a nice-looking package, blond haired lean
thighs, pleasantly dimpled knees, and strong calves.

He saw me looking at him, and said "Your master said
you had to be fucked, Steve.  But he didn't say I had
to use the Nubian!  I think you deserve an
introduction to proper sex, sex the way real men do
it."

Look, I'm not gay, right?  But the sight of this
gorgeous body was doing something to me.  I felt my
dick stirring.

"Now", he went on, "Let's understand this.  You're
going to be fucked, but you have a choice.  I can take
you over to the horse there and force you down on it,
then I can undo your cuffs and re-cuff you to the
front legs, then I can possess you.  You won't be able
to stop me as you'll be helpless."

"Alternatively, you can start to behave like a man
should when faced with the thought of sex.  I'll
uncuff you now, then you can go over to the horse, lie
down, get comfortable... And then I'll fuck you.  Your
hands will be free, but I'll rely on you to lie there
and take it.  So which is it to be?"

Oh, what the fuck was I supposed to do?  One half of
me said that I wanted no part in this - if I had to be
fucked, let it be entirely against my will, so I'd
take his first option.  The other half was still
trying to puzzle its way through all the stuff he'd
said about men and sex, and was being boosted by the
sight of his body as he stood there.  But if I took
option two, I'd be giving in, admitting something that
I still didn't want to admit.

Craig watched me, and I think he knew what was going
through my mind.  He came over and stood next to me,
and it was almost as if there was something leaping
between us, some strange electricity.  My dick jumped
into the air, and I could see Craig's bulge growing in
his tight white briefs.  Still half smiling, he pushed
his briefs down and stepped out of them, and he too
was erect - his dick was, well, "in proportion" to the
rest of his neat, trim body - not too long, not too
short.  He wasn't cut, but he had that sort of
foreskin that didn't extend beyond the end of his head
- his piss slit was visible through the circle that
his 'skin made, and I felt certain that the moistness
it promised was being enhanced by leaking pre-cum.
His balls, covered in the same dark blond hair that
was on the rest of his body, were those kind that are
carried high up: a very well-filled sac almost pushed
his dick skywards, and I guessed that even when he
wasn't boned his dick would be given greater
prominence by them.

"I think I know what your answer will be, Steve", he
said softly.  "Or, at least,  know what your answer
ought to be."

When I still said nothing, he went on "Sometimes a guy
needs decisions made for him.   Sometimes he doesn't
know what's in is own best interests.  So let me make
it easy for you."

He moved around behind me, and I couldn't help
noticing how light he was on his feet - so lithe and
athletic.  His boned dick bounced up and down as he
moved.  He undid the cuffs, and gave me a friendly
slap on my naked butt.  "Off you go, Steve - there's
the horse... Go and make yourself comfortable."

That walk across the room, totally "free", was one of
the hardest things I've ever done.  The chrome and
leather punishment horse stood under a dim light, and
it brought back terrible memories of that night with
Billy-Joe and Charlie.  I stared down at it, then,
almost as if in a trance, lay down on the leather,
feeling its slick coldness on my flushed and heated
belly and pecs.

Craig was standing by my head, and he almost whispered
"If you're scared, Steve, there's still time to change
your mind.  Just say the word now, and I'll cuff your
hands to the legs and then I'll fuck you and you won't
be able to stop me... But if you want to act like a
man, just relax, or try to relax... I know it must be
stressful."

Well, I couldn't admit to being scared, could I? Even
though, inwardly, I was terrified.  To answer him I
kind of moved my body on the horse as if to get more
comfortable, then brought my hands up to grip the edge
of the top, on either side of my face.  I couldn't
bring myself to say anything.

To my amazement Craig leaped astride me, taking a lot
of his weight on his knees.  But  I could feel the
warmth of his ass on my lower back, and his balls and
dick head resting on my skin.  His hands rested on my
shoulders, that were all hunched up from position of
my hands, and the tension that was in me generally.
He started to stroke me, and knead the big muscles of
my shoulders and upper back with his strong hands.

"Relax, Steve... You're all tense.  This is meant to
be fun, remember?

I lay there, feeling his strong yet subtle hands
massaging me, and I did start to relax.  His warm,
moist ass felt somehow comforting as it slowly slid up
and down my lower back as he worked away, and I found
myself starting to breathe deeply, and it was almost
as if I wanted to drop into a deep sleep.

"There....", he whispered. "That's better, isn't it?
Now, are how are you feeling?"

"Great.... Sir."

"No, Steve, we're just two guys together now.  No
masters, no slaves.  I'm Craig."

He carried on massaging me, and I'd never felt so
good.  He slid backwards so that he was straddling my
ass, and now I could feel is dick almost teasing the
top of my ass crack, as if it was desperate to get
home.  He carried on massaging my lower back, and
again he whispered "How's that, Steve?"

"Great, Craig..."

"Good.... Now....."  He slid off me, and now his hands
were caressing my butt, sliding sensuously up and down
the hard muscles there.  He didn't attempt to dig his
fingers in as he had been into my shoulders and back,
but I became aware that he was gently parting my butt
cheeks.  Just a few days ago I'd have hit any man that
had even touched my butt, but now it felt fine.  I
trusted Craig, and trusted what he was doing to me.

I could feel his hot breath playing on my ass hole -
what was going on?  Then I got a streak of pure
pleasure - something very warm, very soft, very wet
was teasing my pucker, playing with it, massaging it,
tempting it to open for it.  How could Craig's fingers
be so wet, so subtle?  No, it must be his dick - he
was getting ready to fuck me.... But it still felt too
wet, too prehensile, too gentle....  On and on it
went, and  just couldn't help starting to moan with
the satisfaction I was getting, and my fingers started
to unconsciously scrabble at the edge of the horse as
my whole body started to gently lose control.  I'd
never felt anything like this, never known such gentle
yet sensual teasing of this most sensitive part of my
body.

It slipped in to my pucker - I didn't try to stop it,
I didn't want to stop it, and now I was almost crying
out with sheer delight.  I wondered why Craig wasn't
making those encouraging, soothing noises he had been
earlier, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. I could
have just lain there all night, allowing my whole self
to become completely consumed by the sheer erotic
delight of what was happening to me.

But then it stopped, and Craig's fingers relaxed their
hold on my butt cheeks.  I still lay there, but he
came and crouched in front of me.  He put his hands on
the sides of my head and lifted my face up so that we
were looking directly into each others eyes.

"Craig... That was fantastic... I'd never known dick
could be like that... And you didn't make any noise
when you shot your cum."

"Oh Steve, you are naive!  My dick hasn't been
anywhere your ass!  Look..."  He kind of gestured
down, and I could see his dick sticking straight out
of his body:  no way had that just cum.

"So what...?"

"Tongue, Steve. It was my tongue, you idiot.  I
thought you'd still be sore, in spite of the
analgesic, and so I gave you a good ass hole massage
with that best of all massagers, my lovely flexible,
warm, wet tongue."

"You had your tongue up my ass?  Craig... That's
disgusting!"

"Oh shut up, Steve! " he was grinning at me, and his
tone wasn't at all harsh.  "I could tell you were
enjoying it.  You only had to listen to the noise you
were making.  And how could anything that good
possibly be disgusting?"

"Buy my ass hole..."

"Steve, forget it, will you?  Look, whatever two guys
choose to do together can't possibly be wrong.  And
you were perfectly clean up there, weren't you?
Personally I don't like eating ass when it's dirty,
but some guys do, and if it's OK for them, then it's
OK.  You came and freely lay here, expecting to be
fucked, and I freely came here and ate your ass.  So
what's wrong with that?"

I lay there desperately trying to think.  There was no
answer, was there?

Craig, still cradling the sides of my face in his
lovely strong hands, moved his head forward, and,
still staring into my eyes, pressed his lips to mine.
I didn't know what to do. It was like the first time
I'd ever tried kissing, all over again.  Was I
supposed to do something?  I felt panic start to rise
in me, a stupid panic that meant I was somehow
embarrassed at my own lack of knowledge and
sophistication.  Then I felt his tongue, prying at my
lips, teasing along them, searching for an entrance,
trying to get in.

I don't know why I did it, but my teeth parted
slightly, and then his tongue, that big, warm fat
thing that only a moment ago had been up my hole, was
now in my mouth.  It probed around, and I responded -
my own tongue started to mesh with his, and it felt so
right.  My hands, in stead of just lying there,
reached out and gripped Craig's head, and I responded
passionately to him, just as if I'd been making out
with Chantelle.

We broke for air after a couple of minutes, and he was
smiling at me.  "So, Steve... Something else you like!
 Never kissed a guy before, have you?"

"How could you tell... I've done a lot of kissing...
I'm thought to be pretty good at it..."

"You can always tell, Steve.  You're used to thrusting
your tongue into the woman, just as you'll later
thrust your dick into her.  And she usually just
accepts it and lets you make all the running.  But
when you kiss another guy, it's something you do
together.... both of you taking part.  So you can tell
from the response you get - you weren't expecting a
tongue to go into your mouth, were you?"  I shook my
head faintly.  "See, it's much more fun this way."

Suddenly he came a bit more serious.  "But you know,
Steve, there is one thing that's got to happen - I
have still got to fuck you."

"I thought you said that your tongue..."

"Yes, Steve.  But your owner said you were to be
fucked.  What are you going to do tomorrow when you
get back to the Colonel's and your owner asks you how
you took dick?"

"Well, I could tell him it was OK..."

"NO!  Steve, you're a slave, remember?  Slaves do not
lie to their owners, not ever.  If you start off by
telling  a 'harmless' lie like that, you'll end up
lying to him all the time, and as a responsible slave
master, I simply can't allow that. Sooner or later
your owner would catch you out lying to him, and then
he could exact the most dreadful punishments, and
rightly so.  I don't want that to happen to you,
Steve.  I don't want yo to set off down a slippery
slope that will lead to huge problems for you.  So
you're going to have to tell the truth."

"So you mean I should tell him that I wasn't fucked,
be honest, tell the truth...?"

"No, Steve.  If you did that, he'd know that you had
connived to disobey him. If any of the slaves here
disobeyed a direct order of mine, I'd have him strung
up on the flogging frame and flogged to within an inch
of his life - and I wouldn't want your owner to do
that to you, either."

I lay there listening to this logic, and, as ever,
realised I could never win as a mere slave.  I
realised what was coming, and wasn't surprised, I
suppose, when Craig said "So you see, Steve, the only
sensible thing is for you to be fucked, isn't it?  But
don't worry, you won't hurt - well, not much.  Now,
relax, OK?"

Just as Billy-Joe had said he had to do all these
slave things to me "in my own best interests", so now
it seemed that I was going to get fucked for the same
cause.  I really wished these people would stop being
so good to me!

It's funny, isn't it - if someone tells you to relax,
you can't.  Quite the opposite - it starts to make you
go all tense.  All that massage, all that fantastic
tonguing were as nothing as I felt my muscles start to
contract and my body going through those age-old
rituals as it subconsciously prepared itself for
"fight or flight."

Craig got up, lithe as a panther, and his dick, that
dick that was soon to be breaching my hole, waved past
my face.  He moved to the back of me, then I felt his
feet push my legs a little further apart as he
positioned himself - somehow feeling the soles of a
guy's feet pushing on your calves is vaguely sensual,
isn't it?  Or is it because, as you get more
experienced, you know it's preparation for what's to
come?

There was a delicious slimy feeling as something cool
hit my pucker, and then I felt Craig's finger pushing
into me... pushing gently, but insistently.  "Don't
worry, Steve... It's going to be OK... I've lubed you
well, now let's just do a little stretching..."

Funny how random thoughts hit you sometimes, at the
most inappropriate moments.  I couldn't help thinking
how the colonel would be upset if he thought I was
being lubed with "artificial" material, rather than
good, natural man-juice.

Well, what can I tell you further - Craig's fucking
was absolutely unlike Billy-Joe's, or Charlie's.  For
one thing, his massage of my ass with his fingers went
on and on, and all the time he moved his other hand
around on the area of my back just above my ass crack
- steadying himself and, at the same time, somehow
reassuring me that he was in control.  Then when his
dick did slip into me, it was so slow, so subtle and
so totally managed so that I was in no pain:  he moved
a millimetre forward, checked to see I wasn't tensing
up before moving on again....   (some discomfort,
possibly, but absolutely no pain).  I don't know how
long it took, and I don't care - but when I felt his
wiry pubic hair brushing my soft skin, and the animal
warmth of his pelvis pushing against my ass, it felt
somehow totally right.

He played with me, he teased me, he made me moan with
pleasure, and laugh with joy.  In and out his dick
went, sometimes slowly, sometimes a little faster.
Sometimes when he thought I was too relaxed, he'd
unexpectedly slam into me in a way that made me yelp,
but which just added more fun to his next long, slow
languid move.  His hands reached around underneath me,
and as he fucked, he stroked my dick, and fondled my
balls.

It was all totally unbelievable - I'd never thought
sex could be like this.  I'd never known that two guys
could do these things together before, and it could be
so fantastic.  Once, in our dorm room at college,
Billy-Joe had put a gay porn movie on the DVD - I'd
watched in horror as this big giant of a man slammed
repeatedly in and out of a smaller guy, causing him to
shout and scream.  I couldn't watch it, as I hate
violence, but Billy-Joe had said I was stupid, and
that that's what guys did, and he thought it was good.
 Now I knew different:  real men took care of each
other.

Afterwards, as he lay on top of me, panting, our
sweat-soaked bodies sliding over each other, he gently
bit into my shoulder a I still lay there.  Somehow it
felt fantastic - rather like when you see those animal
movies on the TV, where the lion bites the neck of the
lioness as he humps her.

"So what next, Steve?", he whispered.

"I suppose I've got to go into a slave pen?"

"No... Haven't you learned anything?  Haven't we been
talking about guys doing things together, pleasuring
each other?  I've been doing all the work so far...
Now it's your turn.  Get your lazy ass off that horse,
as I need to lie there!"

He gave my butt a playful slap, and as I got to my
feet, my only thought was "Oh Christ, I haven't got to
put my tongue up him, have I?"  Perhaps I wasn't as
sophisticated in all of this as I had imagined myself
to be a few moments before.

End Of Part Eleven

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part twelve

By Pete Brown  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

I MEET  THE COLONEL AT LAST

As we brushed past each other, Craig stopped, put his
arms around my neck, and started kissing me
passionately again, standing almost on tiptoe to reach
properly.  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him
to me, wanting to enfold him and hold him as if he was
totally mine.  Our dicks rubbed together, and I
couldn't believe how good it felt - when I'd done this
to women they often objected to having my erect dick
stabbing into them, but Craig revelled in it.  My
hands went down his still-wet back, over his butt, and
kind of underneath it, as I hugged him close to me.
I'd never had another man this close, another man in
such intimate contact with me, and it felt so good.

I was rock hard, achingly erect, and as Craig rubbed
his body up and down, It felt so incredible;  indeed,
I felt as if I was going to cum at any moment.  I
think Craig must have sensed this, as he murmured
"You're a bit of a sensualist, aren't you, Steve?  You
like this, don't you?  But there's unfinished
business... Come on...."

He broke off, took my hand in his, and led me to the
horse, where he lay down, on his belly.  I stood
there, not quite knowing what to do.  Then I
remembered the importance of lubing and stretching.  I
picked up the can of lube,  pushed at his legs with my
feet (remembering how sensual this had felt to me) to
open him up a bit.  I was almost trembling with
something - terror, expectation, fear.. I don't know
what.  I suppose that it's that I hate doing the wrong
thing, and although I'd been lubed myself, I had no
idea what to do about it.

I crouched down and spread his butt cheeks apart, the
first time I'd ever done such a thing, and saw the
inside of his crack was lined  with the same dark
blond hair that was around his dick and balls - so was
it only slaves that had to have their asses shaved?
There, nestling in almost its own little corona of
hair was his pucker - dark brown against the whiteness
of his skin, here where the light never penetrated.
Tentatively I squirted some of the lube at it, and saw
it contract involuntarily.  Then, doing as he had, I
rested one hand on the small of his back whilst
pushing gently with my finger up into his hole.

Well,  I suppose it's OK, and you do need to do it.
But it's very boring, isn't it?  Standing there
sliding your fingers in and out of a guy's hole, and
stretching him?  It may be fun for him, but not for
you.  As soon as I thought I'd done enough, I wondered
what to do next.  When he'd fucked me I'd been on my
belly, but master Billy-Joe and Charlie had taken me
on my back.  Somehow the idea of looking at him as I
fucked him was very  appealing, so I pulled my fingers
out, then slapped him lightly on the butt - the way
that men did this all the time to slaves.   Was there
something about this that implied ownership, or
control?  Anyway, I decided to try it, and it felt
good under the palm of my hand:  firm flesh, a man's
butt, under my control.

"Roll over, Craig!", I said, then as he did so,
languidly, I marvelled again at his athleticism, his
perfectly honed body, as it rotated under my gaze.
I'm not gay, as I've told you, but  I once turned on
one of those sports channels that was showing coverage
of the world men's gymnastics - those young athletes,
with their amazingly fit but not obscenely muscled
bodies, turned me on, I found.  And it was the same
with Craig now - I just couldn't help getting a sexual
rush as I saw this body displayed for me.  It was
mine, for the taking, and any doubts that I'd had
about being able to perform evaporated.

Just as Charlie had, I bent down and picked up Craig's
feet and rested them on my shoulders, then I inched
forward until my dick made contact with his ass.
Craig was staring up at me, and I suppose I was
looking at him, but I was so focussed on doing the
right thing that I almost didn't notice.

I curled one arm around Craig's knees to hold him in
place, and with the other reached down and manoeuvred
my dick to try to find his hole - you can't see, can
you, so you have to do it by feel - and sliding the
sensitive tip of my dick up and down Craig's
hair-filled crack made me squirm with the exquisite
tickling sensation.  I located it, and it was almost
as if my dick had a mind of its own.  I moved forward
more to try to get in, and Craig grunted.  I pushed
harder, and it was as if Craig's body subconsciously
wanted to get away from me as he moved up the horse,
but my arm around his knees soon halted this, and I
pressed my hips forward to force my head into him.

Look, the feel of a guy's hole gripping your dick is
absolutely amazing, isn't it?  With Grunt I hadn't
really been in control, but now I felt Craig's muscles
squeezing me, I wanted more.  Without thinking I
pushed my dick right in, in one single motion.  Craig
almost screamed, and I realised I'd probably one
something wrong - I should have been slower.  But my
dick was telling me such amazing things now that I
didn't care, and I pulled back, and then slammed home
again.
Craig did let out a scream - no, more of a squeal now
- and this should have alerted me to stop or slow
down.  But somehow having this man almost suffering
with my dick was so exciting.

I started to fuck really hard, and Craig was now
gasping and crying out in time to the motion of my
dick.  The more he did it, the more excited I became,
and the harder I fucked him.  All my life I'd wasted
time fucking women, being gentle with them, and now
this was the real thing - I was doing the thing that
one man is supposed to do to another - utterly
dominate and control him, drive him to cry out in
acknowledgement of who is in charge.  I thrust on and
on, and Craig tried to twist and turn, as if to get
away form me.  I had to really tighten my grip around
his legs to keep him under me, and I deliberately
changed my mode of attach, so I did a lot of little
short, sharp stabs at him.  As my dick thrust in and
out he was almost screaming now and his hands were
beating up and down, futilely, on the horse.

If only it could have gone on for ever - but the
inevitable happened - my cum started to bubble up.  I
hugged his legs towards me one last time as if to
bring his hole in maximum proximity to my body, and my
body arched as if it was trying to bury me as deep as
possible inside him, and then my hips shuddered very
quickly back and forward, as if shivering almost, as I
pumped up into him.

I stood there ,looking down at him, sweat pouring off
him. Pushing his feet off my shoulders I bent my body
forwards, so that my face was looming over his.  I
lowered my head and went to kiss him, and he turned
away from me!  I flew into a rage - I'd just fucked
this man, showed him what a real dick feels like, and
now, here he was, turning away from me.  I was truly
surprised. And it was by reflex  that my hand snaked
out and slapped the side of his face, hard, then
gripped his chin.  My fingers pressured the sides of
his jaw to force his mouth open. Then I could kiss
him, and I did so with gusto, forcing my tongue in and
out in the same way that my dick had a few moments
before forced itself in and out of his hole.

When I finally pulled out of him and allowed him to
sit up, he sat there, just looking at me.  All of a
sudden I realised what I'd done - I'd almost raped
him; and then I'd slapped a free man.  A feeling of
dread started to sweep over me.

Craig just sat there, trembling slightly, looking at
me.  Finally he spoke.  "Wow, Steve, you don't mess
about , do you?"

"Craig, I'm sorry..."

"Look, Steve, there's some things you should know
about man on man sex.  Some guys are pretty aggressive
and once they get into heat, they can't stop. I think
you're pretty far at then end of that spectrum - you
enjoyed fucking me, didn't you?  You liked actually
doing it, rather than taking my dick earlier?"

"Yes, I did", I said almost sheepishly.  After all, I
had enjoyed his dick, but actually doing the fucking
was far, far better.

"I think, on the basis of the very limited evidence
we've seen, that you're what's called in the trade a
dominant, aggressive top.  You want to be in control,
you want to fuck ass, and when you do, you do it in
the way that pleases you, never mind the other guy."

I looked at him, and he gestured for me to sit beside
him on the horse.  I guess I was still looking pretty
miserable and terrified at what might happen, as he
put his arm around my shoulder, and went on  "There
are other guys who really like it very soft and
gentle, a lot of mutual stuff, like we did earlier.
And that's OK, too.  I'm usually like that.  But
sometimes I like, well, I like it a bit 'rough'.  I
suppose I spend so much of my life controlling slaves,
that occasionally I want to be utterly dominated and
controlled myself, fucked hard, with no possibility of
escape."

"When a dominant aggressive top like you meets a guy
like me who doesn't mind a bit of rough occasionally,
there's no problem as we both end up getting what we
want.  But suppose you'd just acted like that when the
guy you were with only really liked stroking, kissing,
fondling, and the very gentlest and softest fucking?
Then there'd e real trouble - especially if the guy
was a free man.  So, Steve, be careful.  You probably
can't control your nature:  it's been bred into you
for millions of years - you're the tribal chief, the
alpha male, all that sort of stuff - you just have to
go where your dick leads.  And it's why you have so
many problems in being a slave, never mind in taking
your owner's dick."

He pulled me close to him, and gave me a little kiss,
just a peck on the lips, really, as if to say "no hard
feelings", and went on  "But you'd better be careful,
Steve.  Try to control it. If you do something like
that to Billy-Joe, he might have you castrated to calm
you down."

"Oh, you're joking..."

"Hey, Steve, I never joke about slave matters.  He has
the right, you know - you're a  permanent slave,
aren't you?  And hasn't he already had some
modifications made to your body - those brands and, if
I'm, not mistaken, you're only recently 'skinned."

I nodded.  "Well then, take care!  They can take one
of your balls, you know, and it's said to really calm
down an aggressive slave.  They even pop a prosthetic
one back in your sac, so your appearance isn't
spoiled.  Still, there's hope for you - I'd encourage
him to stud you so he starts making money, and that
will curb his enthusiasm for even a partial
castration."

"So what now?", I asked.

"Well, I ought to lock you in a slave pen until
morning and then return you home.  You're a valuable
property, and I wouldn't want to risk losing you.
But, on the other hand, I've only fucked you once, and
I think I deserve a second shot, given what you've
just done.  So, you big brute, I propose to take you
back to my place, fuck the eyeballs out of you, then
forbid you to fuck me back."

He was smiling again now, and this time the kiss was
long, and deep as we hugged each other close.

He pulled his clothes on, then we both ran across the
couple of hundred yards to the small cabin in the
grounds where he lived.  The storm was still raging ad
he was soaked through, literally, a I could see all
his flesh gleaming pinkly through the wet fabrics.  It
had been unpleasant for me as the rain drops stung my
skin, but I just stood there now in the one room that
formed his cabin, planing the water off me.  "See,
Craig... There are some advantages in being a slave.
I'm almost dry, and no wet clothes."

"Ah yes, Steve, but you forget.. The pleasure of
clothes is in the tearing of them off..."

It was fun, too. And there was only a single big space
with a sofa, a bed and a table and chairs, and there
was plenty of room to roll around together on the
floor as we got Craig naked.  Then I scooped him up in
my arms and carried him across the room and threw him
down onto the bed, and threw myself on top of him.  We
fondled, kissed, caressed, stroked... I never knew
there were so many pleasure points in my body, but the
moment I tried to move my dick towards his hole, he
very firmly stopped me.  "No, Steve.  Remember how you
felt after Billy-Joe.... Well, I'm probably feeling
much of the same now.  So no more dick up my ass.
However..."

I rolled him over onto his back, he was powerless to
stop me as I was much stronger than he, and straddled
his stomach.  I caught each of his wrists in my hands
and pushed them above his head, and I leaned forward
so my face was just over his.  My dick was hard, and
leaking pre-cum all over his belly.

"Craig, if I want your ass, I'll take it.  You're
powerless to stop me, aren't you?  You're helpless
under my body, and if I want to fuck you, I will."

"Oh, Steve - I love it when you talk dirty like
that..!"

We were then both helpless with laughter, and I got
off him, lay on my back and pulled him on top of me so
we could fondle and caress each other for what seemed
like hours.  Then, I suppose, of the truth is told, I
let him fuck me -  naked, rolling around in a bed,
there was no way he could have forced himself on me.
But I enjoyed it, allowing him to slip his dick into
me again, and then just lying there afterwards with
his arms around me.

It's funny, isn't it, the first time you sleep all
night with a guy?  I'd had several women stay over, as
you'd expect, and they usually wore something - a slip
or whatever.  But guys go to bed with each other
naked, don't they?  And their bodies are so much more
muscular and kind of angular (well, the ones I go to
bed with are - I guess if you sleep with chubby,
overweight men, it might be different).  It seemed
hard to get to sleep, and then hard not to keep
drifting  into wakefulness.  But that wasn't a bad
thing - we were both awake at about three, and we
jerked each other off before falling back to sleep.
This was a first for me, too, and Craig taught me just
how much fun it could be to have to synchronise my
stroking of his dick with his of mine.  It was sort of
like "follow my leader" - if he stopped and played
with my piss slit, I had to do the same to him.

In the morning I wanted more sex, but Craig stood
there, looking down at me sprawled luxuriantly naked
in his bed, and said, sadly "Sorry, Steve.  I've got
to work, and you've got to get back to the Colonel's
place.  No time now..."

"Craig, will we do this again...?"

"I don't know, Steve.  If you were a free man, of
course we would.  But, you know, you are a slave.  And
you're pretty much confined to the Colonel's place
unless your owner brings you her again, for.... "  he
hesitated before saying the word  "... for studding.
And then he'd probably take you away as soon as the
visit was over.  Look, it's hard being a slave, it's
almost impossible being friends with a slave.  We
might both just have to think of this as a single
meeting of fantastic sex...."

He kissed me fondly, and I could tell by the way he
hugged me that he knew it was wrong and cruel to be
separated like this.  But at the same time he knew,
and I suppose I did, too, that it was inevitable.

After that, Craig was all business like.  "Get
yourself over to the slave shed and get washed down,
slave!" He commanded, yes, that's what it was - the
tone of "equals" was simply replaced, just like that,
with the one of command.  "Then take a SMALL portion
of slave chow, get them to give you a pair of clean
shorts, then run home.  We'll check to make sure you
do run and don't dawdle, and that you don't try to
make any diversions, or even escape, on the way.
Understood?"

"Sure, Craig."

He slapped me!  Hard, across the face (I suppose as I
had to him, earlier).  Even though he wasn't a big
muscular guy like me, he was fit and trim as I've told
you, and it hurt.

"Watch your manners, slave."

I knew then that the night was over, and the reality
had begun again.  I lowered my head and said "Sir,
sorry, sir."

Actually I did cheat a bit - as I wasn't "metered"
here with my barcode, I had a HUGE portion of slave
chow, as the rations at the Colonels' kept us all
constantly just on the edge of hunger.  And as I ran
back "home", I was cheerful in spite of everything -
that's what good sex does to you, I suppose.  The
grass seemed greener, the birds sang louder, and even
the hot sun didn't seem to worry me quite as much as
usual.

Straughan eyed me almost suspiciously as I jogged in
to the yard of the slave quarters.

"You seem cheerful, Slave!  I understood master
Billy-Joe asked for you to be fucked.  I would have
expected you to be sore at least, and in a bad mood
probably, after your showing last time.  You did get
fucked, didn't you, slave?  And don't lie to me!"

"Sir, yes, sir.  I was fucked.  And I never lie to a
master, sir."

"There's something suspicious going on here, slave.
But I don't have time to go into it now.  Get and pick
up your cart, and get to work - they're cutting the
rear lawns, and all the clippings need carrying away
to the compost heap."

"Sir, yes, sir."  Once my back was turned I broke out
into a big smile. I'd got one over on Straughan....
Perhaps this was going to be a good week for me.  I
even thought that tonight, in the slave dorm, I'd take
one of the other slaves and practice my fucking, now I
knew how good it was - none of them could resist me,
as I was the strongest, toughest one there.  My smile
broadened at the prospect.

Later that morning I was working away:  it was one of
those warm spring days where the weather is
unseasonably warm for the time of year.  Sweat was
pouring off me as I dragged my cart between the gang
that was mowing the lawns and the giant compost area
right on the far side of the grounds - I'd been told
that this was another one of the Colonel's schemes for
living ecologically, as he hated using artificial
fertilisers and all the vegetable matter from the
estate had to be composted and re-used, not hauled
away to the town tip.  It might have been ecological
for the Colonel, but it surely was a lot more effort
for us slaves:  instead of being allowed to let the
grass fly up from the mowers and lie there, it all had
to be collected, and then carried away as I've said.

The sweat was pouring off me as it was so humid, and I
could feel the little rivulets of  it running down my
back and across my belly, and soaking into the
worn-through cotton of my thin slave shorts. I suppose
that as the fabric got wet it was making my arse even
more prominent, but I hardly cared any more - I was so
used to seeing all the guys around me just in these
tight shorts that it no longer mattered.

I was shovelling up a giant heap of cuttings that the
lawn crew had raked together, when one of the house
servants raced up to me.  I could tell he wasn't "one
of us" outdoor slaves, as he wore tight black shorts,
almost like cycling shorts that emphasised his butt
and his thighs, and around his neck, just above his
collar, was a neat white bow tie on an elastic ribbon.


"The master wants to see you, slave", he told me, and
his face split into a big grin.  "He's waiting on the
veranda, as he's been watching you work.  Wow, man,
are we in for a treat... Us house boys don't often get
to see to you outdoor studs stripped...   Come on,
hurry up, get your arse over here, as the Colonel
hates to be kept waiting."

I knew about the Colonel, of course, Billy's uncle,
the owner of the estate where I now toiled. I'd met
him when on "social" visits in my former life  But he
almost never came into the grounds, and as I was an
outdoor slave rather than an indoor servant, and
rarely went into the house, I'd never been close-up to
him.  We sometimes saw him sitting in the back of his
limo as it swished down the drive, but he never
stopped.

I loped off after the young slave, and mounted the
steps of the veranda.  He was half sitting, half
sprawled, on one of the rockers that lay scattered
over the vast area. To his side there was a slave boy
kneeling  with his elbows to the ground so that his
broad back was horizontal, and this was being used as
a table to hold the colonel's drink - some iced
concoction, full of leaves and fruit, rested on the
boy's naked flesh.  I could see the trickles of
condensation falling down the side of the glass in the
humid air, and forming a pool on the slave's skin.

The colonel himself must have been in his seventies.
He was a big, overweight, florid man, who must have
weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds.  His
white hair was matched by an old-style drooping white
moustache. His elegant grey suit struggled to contain
the bulge of his giant stomach, but otherwise he was,
as you would expect for a man who had an army of
personal servants to groom and dress him, immaculate:
his shirt was a dazzling, spotless white, his shoes
shone in the sunlight, and his grey tie was perfectly
knotted and neatly tucked into his waistcoat.

I knew enough by now not to say anything, so I just
stood there, in the "rest" position with my hands
neatly clasped behind my back, my feet apart, and my
head bowed.

"What's your name, slave?"

"Steve, sir."

"I'm 'master' to you, boy!"

"I'm sorry, sir.  But I belong to Master Billy-Joe,
and he's 'Master':  he insists I call all other free
men 'Sir', sir."

"Oh, so you're that friend of Billy's that enslaved
himself are you, to avoid the rape stuff.  I
understand now - when I saw you working away there I
thought Straughan had been wasting my money on buying
white slaves - blacks and Hispanics are perfectly
adequate for hard outdoor work. Still, you're here, a
slave, and I suppose that's all that matters.  But why
are you working on the estate?"

"Sir, Master Billy-Joe says it keeps me in good shape.
 And he doesn't want to have to pay for my upkeep
here, sir.  Mister Straughan has agreed that he'll
house me and feed me for Master Billy-Joe provided I
work on the estate."

"I see.  Or, rather, I don't see!  You've got a fine
body, slave, from what I can see of it.  Now, shed
those shorts, and let me get a proper look at you..."

Well, what was I supposed to do?  I hesitated, and
even in that instant the Colonel's face turned from
amused affability to something approaching anger.  I
supposed that he'd never had a slave even think of
disobeying an order for many, many years.  Although he
was not my master, I didn't doubt that if he wanted to
he could have me punished, so I put my thumbs in to
the elastic on the waistband of my shorts, then
wriggled them down over my hips and let them fall to
the floor.  I stood there in front of him, conscious
of his eyes looking at my dick, and I also saw that
the several household slaves who were hovering around
him waiting for any sign that he needed some small
service performed, were also watching me intently.

"Come close, boy!", he told me curtly, and I advanced
to stand next to him,

He reached out and took hold of my dick - his hand was
thin and wiry, almost claw-like, and I couldn't help
noticing the dark brown mottling of age spots all over
its back.  He played idly with my dick, and, in spite
of my feeling of revulsion at this vile old man
feeling my flesh like this, I was unable to prevent
myself starting to go erect - you know how it is:
almost any sort of manual stimulation will make you go
hard, won't it, even if you don't want to?

"Nice, boy.  And a good, clean cut, I see.  Were you
done at birth, or when you came here?"

"Sir, I was circumcised here, sir..."

"I thought I recognised the local vet's handiwork - he
always seems to get it just right, so that the dick
can get fully erect but there's no slack hanging
around the shaft when you're at rest.  Still, he gets
enough practice, as I have all the slaves here cut -
don't like foreskins on them - it's unhygienic, that's
what I say; and a slave shouldn't be allowed to hide
his dick head from his owner."

I felt myself flushing, and a slow anger started to
spread through me.  So it was this man's whim, and his
unscientific view of "hygiene", that had caused
Straughan to have me cut.  Without thinking I blurted
out "So that's why I've been mutilated..."

At once the old man's demeanour changed.  His face
became like thunder, and his hand tightened around my
dick so that it was almost painful.  I saw the other
slaves on the veranda look at first genuinely shocked,
and then almost pitying as they clearly knew something
about the Colonel that I didn't.

"That's a punishment for you, slave!  How dare you
speak without being spoken to!  And did I hear that
you even dared to criticise me....?"

I didn't get a chance to say anything - probably
fortunately - as he turned to one of the slaves and
snapped "Fetch Master Straughan.  At once."

The slave turned and raced away into the house, and
the Colonel let go of my dick.  "You - go and stand
against the house wall. I don't want to see your face:
 I can't stand insolent, uppity slaves!"

I suppose I could have disobeyed him, but I sensed
that I was already in a lot of trouble and did not
want to provoke him further.  I shuffled over to the
wall, and stood there, facing the white clapboard
siding, feeling slightly stupid.

"No, slave!  Haven't they taught you any manners?
Toes to the wall, nose to the wall, and hands behind
your neck!"

I could hardly believe it.  Could he be serious?  But
I supposed he was.  I shuffled closer to the wall
until my toes touched it, and then I realised how
subtle this position is - with your toes and nose
against the wall, the rest of your body has to adopt a
kind of half-bent posture as your pecs and hips try to
press against it.  The wall was cool to the touch
against my skin, and I could smell the paint of the
sidings as my nose touched them.  With my  hands
clasped behind my neck my posture was even more
uncomfortable as my whole body seemed to be subtly out
of kilter.  And the longer I was made to stand there,
the worse it got.  I shuffled my feet a little, to try
to get some relief, and the Colonel, who must have
been watching me closely, snapped "Move once more,
slave, and your punishment will be doubled!"

Fortunately I was saved by the arrival of Straughan,
who strode up the steps.  I didn't dare turn around,
but I recognised his voice as he said "Good morning,
sir.  You sent for me."

It was a statement, not a question, and it was clear
that Straughan was used to obeying the Colonel in all
things.

"Yes, Straughan.  I understand that you have agreed to
give free board and lodging to this slave of Master
Billy."

"Yes, sir.  We discussed it, sir, if you remember. I
thought that we could get useful work out of him.  In
exchange for a few handfuls of slave mush every day I
get another strong, hard body to work the estate.  And
he doesn't take up any more room in the slave barracks
- there's enough spare space there already.  And, sir,
I think you'll have to agree he's easy on the eye, too
- having a white slave working the grounds makes a
nice contrast with the blacks, don't you think?"

"Possibly so, Straughan, but you should have consulted
me about decisions like this."

"Sir, I'm sorry - perhaps it's slipped you mind, or
perhaps it slipped my mind."  I doubted that anything
ever slipped Straughan's mind - perhaps the Colonel
was no longer as sharp as he should be.    "But, sir
this matter is so trivial that it doesn't merit
disturbing you - he's just another slave working the
grounds, and his upkeep is insubstantial.  And, sir,
it pleases Master Billy-Joe, who doesn't have to worry
about housing him securely in the city, or of paying
fees to the slave gyms to keep him in good shape.  It
seemed like a win-win situation.  I had him branded,
and cut, sir, so that he's just like the other
slaves..."

"Quite so, Straughan.  You're probably right.  But
what are we to do now?  He's been uppity and insolent
to me.  If he was mine, I'd have him flogged - not
that any of my slaves would dare behave like that."

"Sir, it's no problem.  Master Billy told me to treat
him just like the other slaves, so if a flogging is in
order...."

"No, Straughan, I learned long ago that you can't flog
another man's slave: the risk of damage to his flesh
from the whip is too great, and that's the way to
spoil friendships between owners.  Still, it's a pity
- a very handsome view he presents from the rear,
doesn't he - look at the way his shoulder muscles are
bunched, that almost perfect triangle falling down to
his butt, and the way it flares out so enticingly.  I
suppose the work here keeps him like that - I like to
see a slave without an ounce of fat on him, and with
well-defined musculature like that.  And it's most
appealing , the way that you can just see the end of
his dick and his balls through his open legs - that's
one real advantage of a well-hung slave, the rear
view.   He really is a first-rate animal, and I'm sure
Master Billy-Joe wouldn't want to risk damage to him
with a good whipping.  But he must be punished...."

I could feel a hot flush spreading up my body,
colouring my shoulders and racing up my neck to my
face, as the two men discussed me like this.  It was
just as if I was some prize piece of stock, rather
than a guy who had, until recently, been a free man
like them.  And someone who had been a guest in the
house - why hadn't the Colonel recognised me?

"Sir, if I might suggest... Master Billy-Joe said that
he could be treated like the other slaves, as I
mentioned, and for a first offence we wouldn't
necessarily resort to the whip - I do need to keep
something in reserve to threaten the slaves with in
order to maintain discipline.  But we should never
underestimate the power of physical punishment, and so
perhaps you might agree that his offence was not so
heinous that a whipping was necessary, and that a
simple caning might suffice?"

"Perhaps so, Straughan."

"A further advantage is that we don't need to send for
a whip master, so there will be no delay: The man we
usually use is always booked a few days in advance.
And less expense, of course.  He could be caned now,
sir - sometimes a swift, immediate punishment drives
the lesson home better than a harsher one administered
at a later date... rather like training puppies."

"Indeed yes, Straughan, you're right. A swift
punishment, administered now, will fit the bill
exactly.  And it will pass the time until luncheon.
How many strokes do you suggest?"

"Eight, sir.  Somehow it seems more symmetric on the
butt than the traditional six. And it will bring home
to him, sir, that even the tiniest bit of insolence
will be swiftly punished.  That tends to be the
trouble with the newly-enslaved - they just can't
forget that they're no longer free, and that they must
obey absolutely and not have any thoughts of their
own: in a way, it's so much easier to have the
farm-bred ones who have known no other life."

"Yes, Straughan, but the way those breeders produce
slaves in those cramped breeding pens - they rarely
achieve the perfection of form that this one is
showing.  Mind you, I take your point - look at him
trembling:  it's as if he's been listening to us, and
daring to disagree!"

I was, in spite of trying to control myself, beginning
to shake.  It wasn't just the uncomfortable way I was
standing and the muscle ache that had now spread
through me, either.  I was almost enraged by the way
that these two were casually discussing beating me.  I
hadn't dared say anything, as I knew that that would
just make matters worse, but my body had formed it's
own view and was playing out the emotions I was trying
to hide.

"Shall I proceed with the caning immediately then,
sir?"

"You're quite sure that Master Billy-Joe won't mind?"

"Absolutely, sir.  As I said, he told me to treat the
slave well, as we do all the slaves here, but to give
him no special privileges.  And anyway Master
Billy-Joe is not expected until the weekend - I'll
take care not to break the skin with the cane, so that
by then there'll only be the residual bruises and
marks and the texture of the butt won't be affected at
all."

Straughan issued a crisp order to one of the house
slaves standing around to run to his quarters and
fetch his four foot Malaca "and be quick about it, if
you don't want a taste of it after the slave here", he
added.


End Of Part 12