Date: Tue, 17 Dec 2013 02:41:44 +0000
From: Slave Thing <thing4ne1@gmail.com>
Subject: Biography of a slave Part 1

'Biography of a slave' {} ( b^b nc ) [1! ]

If you are not of legal age to access pornographic material move away.
Nothing for you here.
If you are offended by stories abut boys being boys you really are on the
wrong site.
Probably best to treat the following story as a work of fiction.
No animals were harmed in bringing you this story.

Prologue

I grew up in a "normal", comfortable, middle class area in holy, Catholic
and conservative Ireland with all the oddities that implies. Being naked
in front of others was shameful and sinful. But it was perfectly
acceptable for young kids (up to puberty in practice) to swim naked and
indeed to run around and play naked at the sea-side. I was about 14
before I knew what homosexuality was, which as it turns out was probably
too late. On the other hand half the priests seem to have been fucking
half the boys. I just wasn't in that half.

I remember at a very young age (about 6) playing a game in after-school
where some of the boys would strip naked in the toilet and then get
dressed from random items of clothing from the pile before running out
into the play area. On one particular occasion I was dressed only in
underpants because the only clothes left belonged to a guy I didn't like. I
can't remember the details but I know we got in trouble for that and
corporal punishment was still permitted. I was no stranger to corporal
punishment though and it never really had an impact on me. Apart from in
the obvious way.

I was 11 the last time I received CP at home. It was the not unusual
lecture with a wooden spoon to my ass for emphasis, punctuation and
rhythm. I stood side on to a seated parent who laid into my butt. I
pissed myself mid beating and I had to strip naked before it continued
using my own belt until it became obvious that, despite the tears and
wailing in the face of pain and humiliation, at some level I was enjoying
the experience. My mother obviously decided that since CP didn't alter
my behaviour and I seemed to like it to an inappropriate degree that the
wooden spoon needed to retire.

We lived pretty close to the sea and during the summer we would often go
to the beach. My mother never saw the point of buying swimming costumes
for my brother and me and so we were among those boys who swam,
sand-castled and played naked. Sometimes friends would come with us and
sometimes we went with friends parents. We wouldn't go to the beach alone
 My brother is three years older than me and I remember when his pubic
hair started growing. He was 12 and mother took him to a department
store to get a Speedo which was all the rage for boys back then. I wasn't
far behind him. A few wisps appeared the summer I turned 10. I was the
only one of my friends getting hair and I didn't want any. Initially I
plucked the few hairs but eventually I started shaving with my dad's
razor. I was still able to play football and swim naked with my friends.
The whole next year at school I shaved about once a week. In the showers
I was just like most of the other boys in my class and all was well.
Later in the year one or two other boys started sprouting a few hairs
and they were the butt of endless jokes. I was glad to be among the cool
kids. I continued to shave through the summer even as more and more boys
moved over to the speedo side. By the time we went back to school the
cool thing was to wear a Speedo and if someone showed up with one they
had to prove themselves worthy. This was around the time CP was
suspended at home.

Back to school and now I was the smooth oddity, the butt of the jokes
and the one who always drew the short straw, got to the showers when
the hot water was all gone and as the last one I had to squeegee the
floor. I resolved to let nature take its course. Terry thought he noticed
something odd and pulled me aside one day after PE to ask if I was some
kind of freak who shaved. I denied it. I had to give him my lunch-time
chocolate every day for a week to get him to promise not to tell. Of
course it also meant that I had to go back to shaving so I would not have
a 5-o'clock shadow on my crotch.


Chapter 1

Over Christmas I decided I had time to grow something respectable away
from prying eyes. Which worked, more or less. Brian is a cousin just six
months older than me and every Christmas they spend a couple of days with
us and we spend a couple of days with them. Brian was bigger and stronger
than me, cooler than me and I looked up to him and always followed him
into scrapes and adventures.

Whenever either of us stayed over we always topped and tailed in the same
bed. He wanted to show me something cool, he said as he stripped naked
and slipped in to bed but not before I caught sight of the ring of
straight pubic hair around the base of his penis.

"Come on", he said, "just strip off and get in. Nothing I haven't seen
before."

"Mum will kill me if she catches me sleeping naked," I replied.

He cajoled a little until I relented and agreed to take off the bottom
of my pyjamas. That way anyone looking in would see my PJ top. I switched
off the light, stashed the leggings in the press and slipped between the
sheets myself. I could see Brian moving rhythmically but I didn't know
what was going on but soon he made an "Nnngh!" sound and stopped moving.
Curiosity aroused I asked what he was doing but he told me to go to sleep
until everyone else was asleep and he'd tell me.

It was probably about 2am when Brian kicked me awake. He threw back the
covers revealing his naked torso, visible by the light from the street
outside the cartoon character curtains. He was playing with his four
inch erection which stood straight out before curving up towards his
belly.

"Just copy what I do,"
Brian directed and he fisted the shaft for a while until his glans was
well enough lubed for his foreskin to retract. Once exposed he focused
on the glans. Making a ring with a finger and thumb he worked it on the
ridge, occasionally gathering some of the glistening precum from the
slit. It was all over quickly for him. Another "Nnngh!" and he shot
three spurts of liquid from his cock, The first on his face, the second
on his chest and the third onto his belly each a splat of reflected
light.

"Aaaaah," he sighed, "the second one is always better."

I was enjoying my own stimulation but stopped when he came.

"Did you just piss on yourself?" I asked, incredulous.

With an air of authority only slightly tinged with condescension he set
me straight on the facts. It was my first, and last sex-ed lesson until
I was in uni although by then I had figured out a great deal!

I went back to working my cock as he gave me a tutorial but while there
was copious quantities of clear pre-cum, beaten to a froth as I pumped
away and while the sensations were pleasant there was no ejeaculatory
burst, no rush, no orgasm.

"You do have pubes, don't you?" Brian asked, keen to get to the bottom
of the problem.

I said I had and so he decided that as the machinery must be OK it must
be an operator fault. He swung about in the bed and lay beside me
reaching over with his right hand.

His hand trailed down my PJ shirt popping the buttons as he passed, 1, 2,
3 and ran his hand across my belly towards my crotch. My erect cock was
laying on my belly and a wet trail of precum ran from the head to my
navel where a small pool formed. With a finger her dipped in the pool
and smeared it on my skin working down to my crotch where he encountered
the stubble of my re-growing pubes.

"Hey," he said, "your pubes are weird. They're really short. Let's see
them."

With that he jumped out of bed and turned on the light. While his
genitals were surrounded by a halo of dark, straight hairs about an inch
and half long, enough to cover the skin beneath, my pubes were probably
only a quarter of an inch long, skin showing clear and nothing long
enough to grow to the base of my shaft.

After a brief interrogation I conceded that I used to shave which he
though hilarious. By this stage I hade developed a bit of a complex about
my pubes. I was already the butt of regular humiliation about my smooth
state while at the same time feeling embarrassed that Terry in school
knew the truth. Now Brian also knew and I wondered what his price would
be.

Brian and I got on really well but he always knew how to twist the knife
and turn events to his advantage.

"I Wonder does Aunty Brid know her little boy is actually a big boy?" he
pondered.

I knew what he was doing. It was a not very veiled threat to tell my
mother and a bit of begging would be in order.

"She doesn't know," I replied, "and she doesn't need to know."

"I think she ought to know her baby is all growed up," said he in a
silly, babyish voice, "I think I'll give her the good news at breakfast."

"You don't need to do that. Please don't do that. Please don't tell her,"
I didn't need to feign the slight touch of panic in my voice as a sly
smirk crossed his face. I knew the price would be high.

"What will you give me not to tell her you have pubes?"

I had a Donkey Kong game which I knew he coveted. I offer it to him and
he considered the offer for a while.

"Get it and I'll see," Brian commanded.

The game was on the table in the kitchen and I suggested I would get it
in the morning but when he insisted I reluctantly got out of bed and
went to put some clothes on.

"Uh-uh," he said, "I dare you to go as you are."

I figured it was probably safe at that early hour of the morning but it
was still with heightened awareness and super-sensitivity to every grunt
and spring boing that I turned off the light in my bedroom before
slipping out the door to make my way downstairs, my PJ shirt hanging
from my shoulders and an erection leading the way as I carefully avoided
the creaking floorboard outside my brothers room and tread lightly on
the stair. A couple of times I froze at unfamiliar sounds and by the time
I returned to the room I was a mixed bag of emotions. There was the rush
of doing the forbidden in carrying out the streaking dare, the fear at
the possibility of being caught, the apprehension that Brian might yet
have further demands. Sweat coursed down my sides from my pits yet I
trembled with the cold and through it all I was still pretty hard.

None of these facts escape Brian's attention and as he stands to take my
offering his erection touches mine. He took the game and considered and
considered it for a moment.

"OK. That covers the pubes, but what about the fact that you have been
shaving for more than a year and that you should have been covering up
on the beach? I think she'll be really mad about that."

I listed off a few things but there was very little that I had that he
didn't have too. My music wasn't to his taste, there was no way I could
give away my bike which was actually cooler than his, BMX was totally
cool then and I had precious little else. I never thought of myself as
poor or in want of anything but I certainly didn't have the amount of
stuff kids have these days.

"Looks like I'll be chatting to Aunty Brid at breakfast so."

"No. Please. I'm begging you! There must be something... I'll do your
chores for you all next week."

"Hmmm," he said, grinning evilly. "I like that."

"like what?" I asked, "my doing your chores?"

"Actually I liked the begging but the chores also sounds good. Beg some
more and I'll think about it."

I begged again. He pointed at the floor and told me to beg properly so I
knelt and begged.

"You want to do all my chores for me next week?"

"Please let me do all you chores," I grovelled.

"You'll do everything I tell you?"

I replied in the affirmative.

"You'll be my slave?"

I nod.

"Tell me what you want. Beg me for it or you'll be front and centre for
show and tell at breakfast."

I had recently read Robinson Crusoe. I prostrated myself before him and
placed his foot on my head.

"Please, I beg you. Let me be your slave. Just don't tell."

"Very well, slave," he said with a feigned magnanimity. "From this
moment on you shall be my slave."