Date: Wed, 8 Jan 2003 17:00:59 -0500
From: istari <istari@blazenet.net>
Subject: Mastering Alex 30

The following story describes the evolving relationship between
and man and a thirteen-year-old boy. It is the story of a safe,
loving, consensual, dominant/submissive relationship and does
contain scenes of bondage, sadomasochism, etc. If that sort of
thing makes you uncomfortable, please stop reading. This story is
utter fiction, the product perhaps of my own childhood fantasies,
and nothing more.

Comments are welcome at istari_olias@hotmail.com


Mastering Alex

Chapter 30: Inside Out

     I rested my feet on Alexander's back. The boy was on his
hands and knees before me. Fresh and clean, collared and
harnessed, beautiful in his leather. It was six in the morning.
The sun was rising, already beginning to lose some of its
summertime intensity. Michael opened the windows, allowing the
cool breeze to blow in. Even the smell of autumn was in the air.
Alex shivered and I could see the little boyish hairs on his arms
standing up against the cold as he struggled to keep himself in
position.
     For the last hour, Alex had been our footstool. Michael and
I took turns with him as we watched the early morning news.
Michael had fixed a large bowl of cereal for himself and used the
boy's back as a table, setting the bowl along his spine, and
putting his bagel, hot from the toaster oven, between Alex'
shoulders. Alex hissed a bit when he felt the heat, but Michael
was exceedingly careful.
     "You don't really think I'd burn you, do you, Alex?" he
asked, leaning forward.
     Alex shook his head. "No, Mike . . . sir."
     When he was finished, the handsome young man took a moist
towel and cleaned the boy off for my use. I tugged on Alex' leash
and he crawled toward me, slowly, his eyes down, as they had been
since we'd begun. I would forgo breakfast until later, but I
enjoyed the feel of his firm sturdy back, covered in taut soft
silken skin against my feet. Occasionally I'd work my left foot
down along the crack of his ass. He wasn't plugged, and every
time a toe found his little hole, he'd jump and sigh.
     "Keep still."
     "Yes, master."
     Michael returned with another bowl and sat down beside me. I
gazed over and saw it was honey, warm from the looks of it. He
dipped his index finger in and swirled it around.
     "Want some breakfast, Alex?" he asked quietly.
     Alex nodded that he did, and obediently opened his mouth to
accept Michael's finger.
     "Clean it off, boy, and I'll give you some more."
     Alex licked and suckled, and Michael again dipped into the
bowl. This time offering two fingers, which the boy greedily
took. He was moaning softly now and wiggling his hips, always his
sign, when the chastity belt was around his waist, that he was
getting turned on.
     "Horny, kiddo?" Michael asked, half-sweetly, half taunting
him.
     Alex would have no doubt given me a smart-ass response.
That's what little brothers do. His answer to Michael however was
merely a humble nod of his head and a soft desperate whimper.
Mike traced his finger around the boy's ear, tugging gently on
its lobe. Alex gasped at the soft and delicate touch. I'd seen
him do this to Alex before, and always with the same results.
Mike's touch was the exact opposite of pain, yet it seemed to
have the same effect.
     The boy's arms began to tremble beneath me, and his
breathing quickened. Mike continued, running his fingers across
Alexander's forehead, gently stroking the boy's cheek, pressing
them against the boy's lips.
     "I think we'll keep you that way."
     Alex groaned in frustration and turned his head away from
us. I lowered my feet from off his back. He made a little sigh of
relief and started to stretch his tired muscles.
     "Alex, stay!" I shouted, smacking him hard on the ass. The
boy was still instantly.
     The sun was warming the morning air when Robert appeared
from the bedroom with a bemused grin on his face. Michael
immediately left the sofa to pour his master a cup of coffee.
He'd kept it fresh and brewing for us all night. Robert followed
him over and embraced him, his large powerful frame engulfing the
slender young man. I heard Michael moan softly as Robert worked
his hands into the boy's jeans.
     "You fucked him, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
     "Yes, master."
     Robert kissed him on the back of his neck and poured his own
coffee. It was a subtle gesture, one that I could tell left the
eighteen-year-old rather shaken and unsure. Robert walked toward
me, still smiling.
     "Where are our two English friends?" I asked, observing that
the door to the bedroom had been closed.
     Robert laughed. "Seems young Sebastian was rather horny this
morning. First time I've ever been awakened by an eleven-year-old
humping my leg."
     "Did he have an orgasm?" I asked, unable to contain my own
smile at the image of that beautiful redheaded boy rutting like a
horny little rabbit.
     "Possibly. Hard to tell when they can't cum yet. He was
certainly enjoying himself. Samuel is disciplining the boy now.
They won't be long."
     As if on cue, I heard the first high-pitched agonized shriek
echo from behind the door. It was followed by many others over
the next fifteen minutes. An interesting background chorus as
Robert and I chatted idly about this and that. Finally, the
bearded master gazed down and acknowledged Alex, giving the boy a
firm kick in the rear. Alex lost his balance and scrambled
forward for a moment before putting himself back on all fours.
     I pulled on the boy's leash. "Sit."
     Alex crawled around and got himself into position, squatting
with his knees spread and his hands flat on the floor. He looked
up just as I was handing his leash to Robert.
     "Good morning, Alexander," Robert said in a playful tone.
"Did you have a pleasant evening?"
     "Not exactly, sir," he answered. The fatigue in his voice
was obvious. "Some of it was ok, I guess."
     "You guess? Well, Doctor Collins and I will make sure you
have a memorable time today." Robert's laughter made Alex shiver,
or perhaps it was the pathetic wail that came from the bedroom,
shrill and piercing, the sound of a little boy in unbearable
pain.
     "What's he doing to him?" I asked, resting my eyes on the
closed door.
     "You really don't want to know," Robert replied. "Let's just
say Sam is quite skilled with needles, and he knows every nerve
in the boy's body. I'm sure Alex will be able to tell you how it
feels before the end of the day."
     I heard my boy whisper something under his breath, but when
I asked him, he would not repeat it.
     Sam came out a moment later, with Sebastian staggering along
awkwardly beside him but doing his best not to let on. Shorts and
shirt again, all black, the only colors I've ever seen him wear,
when he's wearing anything at all. He looked at us, clearly
embarrassed that we'd all heard him screaming. He muttered a
quiet apology to Robert for his shameful behavior then toddled
over to the coffeepot, poured himself a full mug, and drank it
down black in single gulp.
     "Weird little kid," I heard Alex whisper. I patted him on
the head and ran my hand slowly along the gentle curve of his
back.
     Robert and Sam huddled for a moment, speaking privately,
often looking in the boy's direction. Sebastian shifted anxiously
from foot to foot, once or twice rubbing between his legs when
his master wasn't looking.
     "What are they gonna do to me?" Alex asked, still squatting
at my feet.
     "I don't know, Lexi. But Robert would never really hurt
you."
     "I know."
     Silence.
     "Doctor Collins scares the shit outta me," his voice was
small and nervous.
     I smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "And Sebastian?"
     "He's even scarier."
     "Stick close to Robert then. Remember, just one word, and it
all stops. That's all you have to do."
     His hazel eyes were dancing with conflicting emotions when
he turned his head to look at me. "Do you want me to say it?"
     I couldn't answer him.
     "Is that why you're making me do this?" There was just a
little edge to his sweet voice, just a hint of anger and
betrayal.
     "I'm making you do this because you're a slave," I replied.
"Does that answer your questions?"
     "Yes."
     Robert and Sam approached him. I gave him a little nudge
with my foot, and Alex got to his feet to face them, his hands
clenched to fists, always his first line of defense against the
fear that was slowly consuming him. Robert held a harness for the
boy's head, complete with gag. I watched in silence as he put it
on. A large leather strap went around Alex' forehead, another
under his chin, with thinner straps around his ears. When
everything was buckled in place, Robert gagged him in a swift
rough motion, pulling the boy's hair and forcing his head back.
     The slender boy was nearly overpowered by Robert's great
size and strength. The straps of the gag were fed through loops
in the harness, making it all one piece. It was a frightful
looking thing, but designed for long-term wear. Robert checked
everything to make sure it was tight, and then more padlocks were
attached. The kid had more of them locked on his body now than he
had fingers with which to count them. Robert turned him around to
face me.
     Tears moistened the boy's eyes, but he stood there bravely.
He was amazing, a strong boy of thirteen, smooth and hairless,
still a child in so many ways, but a young man as well, bound in
leather from his ankles to his head and everywhere in between. My
special boy. My wonderful Alex.
     "You look great, Lexi," I said, moved by the sight of him.
     Leather usually turned him on even more than it did me, but
frayed and exhausted as he was, Alex mostly just seemed
indifferent to it. Our eyes met, but it was that blank stare I'd
come to know very well in these last few days, and with it that
uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Robert pulled on the leash
and spun the boy around. Harsh and demanding. Sam then stepped
in, a blindfold in one hand and a look of cold, calculated menace
etched across his face. Alex instinctively stepped back and
started shaking his head.
     "Alex!" Robert shouted, yanking hard on the chain attached
to the boy's collar.
     It only made the reaction worse. Alex shouted into his gag.
He pulled away even harder and actually grabbed the chain with
his own hands, tearing it from Robert's grasp.
     Michael and I were on our feet instantly. Alex bolted toward
the bedroom. Robert and Sam called after him, in surprised and
suddenly gentle voices, but Alex was beyond listening. Mike and I
chased him down before he could close and no doubt lock the door.
I managed to get my hands around him. He writhed and struggled. I
was amazed at just how strong he was getting, how much weight he
could put into a fight now. I pressed him against the doorframe
and held him there. He growled something into his gag, likely the
worst curse his thirteen-year-old vocabulary could muster. Then
he kicked his feet at me.
     "Alex, calm down! Calm down."
     I shook him gently, and he looked up at me with wild
terrified eyes. Eyes I'd not been there to see when he was five.
Eyes that still haunt me to this day. I hugged him tightly as he
trembled in my arms.
     "You can't have it both ways, Alex," I said.
     He whimpered and tried again to get away from me. I just
held him. Michael stood by and took his hand, squeezing it
firmly. Then Alex closed his eyes, and I felt his body relax.
Finally he gave up. And that was it. I let him go. Without giving
me a second glance he turned and walked with slumped shoulders
toward Robert, then handed him the leash. The boy stood still and
silent and let Samuel blindfold him. Gentle pressure on his
shoulders told him to get on all fours, and he did, without the
slightest resistance.
     He would spend his next eight hours blind and gagged and
crawling like an animal amongst the other masters and their
slaves.
     Michael put his arms around me as we watched Alex being led
off, his leash held firmly in Robert's hands. Samuel had a riding
crop, which was already raining down on the boy's backside before
they left the room. Ample incentive for Alex to keep his tired
arms and legs moving. Sebastian skipped along merrily behind,
pleased I suppose, that for once it was not happening to him.
     "Are you tired, sir?" Michael asked me in his gentle,
youthful voice.
     "Yes, Mike, I am."

     I awoke several hours later with Michael lying naked beside
me. Robert had told me I could do whatever I pleased with him,
but what pleased me was simply lying there, admiring his handsome
body, and talking to this sweet and intelligent young man. I
remembered myself at eighteen, and was ashamed at the obvious
comparison. I was selfish, belligerent, high half the time, and
thinking of nothing but myself. Michael was caring, giving, and
proud. Even in his humility and submission, he was proud. Michael
never would have given Alex away as I had done.
     His hand touched my face, and his blue eyes smiled at me,
softly. He knew my deepest thoughts. The guilt I'd harbored for
years, the voiceless accusation he'd so often read in Alexander's
eyes. "He has to work this out on his own, sir," he said. "You
can't do anything else for him until he does."
     "I'm worried about him," I replied.
     "Me too."
     "He turns all his emotions inside out, until he twists them
into a little knot. He always has, ever since I got him back.
He's wounded, Mike, and he seems to like it that way."
     Michael shook his head. "He doesn't. He hates it. He just
doesn't know what to do about it. And he can't bring himself to
tell you how he feels."
     "I know how he feels. I know what he wants to tell me. I
just wish he could."
     "He's afraid he'll lose you if he does. He already lost you
once."
     That hurt. But it was true.
     "I think bringing him here was a mistake," I said.
     Michael's hand found my own, and his expression was one of
great emotion. "No. You're wrong, sir. Alex has to learn what
it's all about, see it and feel it for himself. This is part of
what it means to be a slave. You were right when you told him he
can't have it both ways. He can't." He rolled onto his back and
gazed up thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I mean, if being a slave
were that easy, everyone would do it."
     "How was it for you?" I asked.
     "Hard, sir, very hard," Mike confessed. It was a truth I'd
always suspected. "It still is sometimes. Master Robert can be
very demanding . . . and very cruel. He didn't care that I was
only fifteen. I could stay and be his slave and do whatever I was
told, or he'd send me back to the streets. That was it. There was
never anything in between. I've had to learn to do things that
just come naturally for Alex. He's already a better slave than
I'll ever be."
     "He worships you."
     "I've noticed." He laughed softly and his expression grew
thoughtful. "At first I just thought he was a cute little kid."
     "And too young, if I recall," remembering his words from two
months ago, and his honorable hesitance to punish Alex for not
following Robert's instructions.
     The young man smiled sardonically. "You have no idea how
badly I was beaten that night."
     "I'm sorry. Your master has a heavy hand. I should know."
     Michael sat up. His cock was hard, but not once did his hand
stray over it. "It was worth it. For Alex it was worth all that
pain. It's his eyes, they just capture you, and they never let
you go. He's so beautiful. He haunts me, sir. I fall asleep
thinking of him, every night since we met. I thought I knew who I
was, but he's changing everything. I imagine taking him in my
arms. Roughly. I imagine myself tying him up and . . ." he
stopped, his emotions getting the better of him. He rolled over
onto his stomach and closed his eyes tightly. "He's strong, but
so gentle. So loving.  What we did this morning . . . I never
thought . . . "
     "You were both beautiful," I said, rubbing his back. "It was
one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."
     "I don't deserve him."
     "I don't either. But just tell me one thing, Michael. Do you
love him?"
     "Very much."
     "Then, when you think you're ready . . ."
     "It would be an honor, sir."
     We fell asleep once again as early afternoon wore on.

     When the clock woke us, the day had turned warm. From the
open window I could hear the sounds of the world outside. And the
crack of the whips and screams of the slaves being tormented
below us. I listened carefully, trying to hear if I could pick
out Alex' voice from the chorus of suffering. For eight hours I'd
slept while my boy was in the hands of others. I wondered how he
was doing, what he was feeling. All I knew for certain was that
he was very likely in pain, and desperate for sleep.
     Michael stirred and moaned beside me.
     "Damn, I'm so hard," he said as he stretched his lean and
slender limbs. I pulled the covers back and verified his current
turgid state of affairs. "Sometimes it's easier in the belt," he
observed with wry humor.
     "Alex says the same thing." I straddled him and smiled.
"Don't tell Robert. He'd say this was unmasterly of me." I sucked
him, fast and furious. Michael writhed and groaned. I squeezed
his balls. Hard. His voice raised 'til he sounded more like Alex.
Of course Alex had enough dick between his legs to choke a man
twice his size. Michael was somewhat more in proportion. With a
sharp gasp and a loud shout he came, his underused balls sending
forth a flood of salty fluid. He collapsed panting on the bed,
then laughed softly.
     "I fuck one brother and get sucked by the other. All in one
day. What a family."
     "A good boy deserves to be rewarded once in a while."
     "I never said I was good."
     "I'll be sure to tell Robert you said that."
     Michael gave me a look of mock fright, and I playfully
shoved him out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. We
showered together. He dried me without being asked or told. Force
of habit, he explained. Robert and Sam had still not returned
with the boys, so we decided to take a walk. I dressed. Michael
did not. He just stood there naked, his jeans and shirt from
yesterday crumpled at his feet. He looked lost and awkward, and
suddenly very young.
     "What's the problem, kid?" I asked.
     He smiled at me nervously. "I don't think my master would
approve of me wearing so much clothing outside."
     "I see."
     "I'm mostly naked for this kind of thing."
     I studied him for a moment. He was a handsome young man,
gorgeous in fact. I certainly would not have minded having him
walking naked beside me. At the moment all he had on was his
collar.
     "Well, I guess I'm in charge of you until Robert takes you
back. I'll tell you what to wear, and if he doesn't like it, he
can take it up with me. Fair?"
     Michael smiled and nodded.
     "Get your jeans on, and see if there's a harness in the
armoire that fits you. No shoes today."
     "Yes, sir."
     I was finishing in the bathroom when he came in, a nice
harness unbuckled over his angular shoulders.
     "I could use some help."
     My smile brought out his own. "You're just like a little
kid," I said as I strapped him in tight.
     "Sometimes. Whenever I get the chance."
     "Not too often, I'll bet."
     Michael shook his head then combed out his short blond hair.
"Master Robert expects a lot from me. But I don't mind. No one
ever expected anything from me before, or thought I was worth
anything."
He paused and studied himself in the mirror. I thought I saw his
blue eyes water, just for a moment, but then it was gone.
     I caressed his behind and gave it a little pat. "Going to
college this fall?" I asked him.
     "Sure am. I'll still live at home though. Robert wouldn't
know what to do without me. He'd probably starve to death, or die
of boredom."
     "It's going to be hard for him, when you and Alex . . ." It
was going to be hard for me too, and I couldn't say it.
     "I know. But we're both boys. You have to let us become
men."
     "We will."
     With Michael always half-a-step behind me, we made our way
downstairs. The equipment was in use, the carriage house was
crowded, but Alex wasn't there. Bartholomew acknowledged us
briefly before returning his attentions to the poor young slave
strung up before him. His trim muscular body already marked by
the experienced sadist's masterful touch. A brazier was smoking
ominously nearby, the iron already glowing red hot.
     Just as we left, we heard the young man's mournful scream.
Michael's pace quickened, carrying him as far away from that
terrible sound as he could get. I had to hurry to catch up. I put
my hand on his shoulder to slow him down.
     "I'm sorry, sir," he said softly as he resumed his place
behind me. His blue eyes flashed in anger. "Branding is just
cruel. There's no reason for it. None at all. If anyone ever did
that to me . . . "
     I had to agree. "Come on. Let's find Alex."

     Find him we did. In the main house. His screams could be
heard above everything else, and we followed them to the same
room where I had witnessed Samuel Collins' earlier demonstration.
An enormous crowd had gathered. I stood at the door in shock. My
Alex, my sweet gentle Alex was Sam's latest experiment in pain.
     Alex appeared to be standing, with his arms and legs spread
wide and tied to the supports of a heavy bondage frame, but his
feet were off the ground. The strain of being suspended this way
would have been nearly unbearable for a fully-grown man with all
his strength. I could only imagine what it was doing to a
thirteen-year-old boy. But it was not the principal cause of his
distress.
     Needles.
     Small silvery needles.
     Samuel was just inserting the latest one into the boy's foot
when I approached. Alex shrieked and thrashed his head from side
to side.
     "No more . . ." he sobbed, his words tumbling out almost
incoherently. "I can't take another one." Then a soft and
desperate and breathless plea as his head dropped to his chest.
"Please stop . . ."
     I could not believe my eyes. From head to toe his young body
was covered with them, piercing his smooth flesh. They had
removed his belt, and even the boy's penis had not escaped the
doctor's less than humane ministrations. Alex was half-hard and
dripping, and his five-inch cock glinted with the tiny metal
needles embedded in its skin.
     Robert came round to meet us, stopping first to hand
Sebastian the large dildo he'd just pulled from Alex' ass. The
little redhead immediately took over, and with a wicked gleam in
his mischievous green eyes he forced it back in. Alex moaned and
cried out as his torment continued.
     I was furious. I'd trusted them with the person who means
more to me than I can say. My brother, my lover, my Alex. He's
all those things and more to me. How could they do this to him?
Robert's expression told me he knew what I was feeling. His eyes
were soft, as were his words, when he put his hand on my
shoulder.
     "Alex asked for this himself."
     I should not have been surprised. I stared at Alex as yet
another needle pierced his flesh, just above his right knee. This
time a quiet sob was all he managed. The boy's need for pain was
every bit as compelling as my own addictions had been. We are so
much alike, in so many ways.
     "Accupuncture?" I asked, for it was the only familiar
reference that came to mind.
     "The basis of Sam's technique, yes," Robert replied in his
off-hand manner. "The needles are of varied widths, and thicker
to a microscopic degree. The boy actually found it quite pleasant
at first. He was rather disappointed."
     I had to share Robert's smile. I could almost hear Alex now.
'Is that it? Can't you do better than that?'
     I would later learn those had in fact been his words, just
about exactly. Alex has a habit of daring those who have the
power to hurt him. He has never admitted to doing it
intentionally, but the results were on display for all to see
that afternoon.
     "How many needles?" I asked as Sam was preparing another for
insertion.
     "Ask Alex," Robert said. "It's his job to count them."
     Standing in front of him, I could see tears streaking down
his cheeks. His eyes were sunken from the lack of sleep. He was
panting, occasionally taking in a sharp breath. There were
needles everywhere, all of lengths appropriate for their
placement in his body. He had them in his fingers, his hands, his
arms, his nipples, his navel, his cock, his feet, and his toes.
Several pierced the soft tissues of his face. His back, when I
peered round, was covered with them.
     "How many?" I asked, raising his head and looking him in the
eye.
     "Fif . . . fifty . . . fifty-eight, sir," he stammered.
     "Tell him how many you've got in your cock, boy," Sam said
as he inserted another into Alex' left nipple, joining three
others already there.
     "Thirteen, sir." He gritted his teeth and hissed, then let
out a quiet moan.
     "One for every year he's been alive." He held up another
needle. "Last one, boy. Where should I put it?"
     Alex shook his head slowly, weakly.
     "Tell me, or it goes through one of your balls."
     "My dick," came his hoarse response.
     "One to grow on, ay. Not that you need it."
     Samuel pulled the boy's cock, gently but firmly, stretching
it. It began to harden almost instantly. "You see," he said with
nonchalance, as if he were giving a medical lecture, "the key is
to find the nerves, not the blood vessels. If I've done it right,
and I have, he won't spill a single drop of blood when I take
them out."
     "Bastard," I heard Alex whisper.
     "I'll ask you to keep your opinion of my parentage to
yourself, boy," Collins said as he pushed the final needle
through the soft skin of the thirteen-year-old's penis. "There.
Now I'd say you need a good fuck."
     And I was just the one to do it. I walked round behind him
and tenderly pushed Sebastian aside. He obediently held out his
hands to receive the dildo as I slid it out of my boy's rectum,
eliciting another deep and lustful moan from Alex. I spread those
firm beautiful globes of boyflesh and inspected my boy's hole. He
was worn inside and out. It was dark, red and purple and swollen,
ravaged from rough and merciless use.
     "This is going to hurt, sweetheart," I whispered into his
ear. Then, careful not to disturb any of the needles in his back,
I entered him, in a swift single thrust. Alex choked and cried,
his voice suddenly shrill and high. He hung there limp and
exhausted, and I used him without pity. Samuel Collins began
removing the needles, even as I fucked the boy. Alex was
screaming, discovering that their exit was just as jarring as
their entrance.
     His screams were all I needed to hear. I was exceedingly
brutal, and I came with one last violent thrust, filling him with
my seed. Normally I stayed inside him for awhile afterward, a
feeling of intimacy he loved and craved. This time I pulled out,
leaving him cold and empty. Sam took my place and plucked the
remaining needles, placing them all in a large bin, which was
swimming with foul-smelling fluid.
     "Seb, please bring the disinfectant."
     Little Sebastian scurried over to the nearby table and
returned with a large jug of surgical wipes. Sam snapped on a
pair of gloves and proceeded to wipe Alex down. The alcohol
against his bruised and battered skin had a cooling and numbing
effect, and the boy sighed in relief. His eyes fluttered and
closed. None of us stepped in to wake him. Samuel finished with
ordinary soap and water. Only then did he gently smack the boy's
face to bring him around.
     "Wake up, Alex," was all he said.
     Alex opened his eyes and stared at us, a look of hopeless
dejection written upon his face.
     "Let's get him down," Robert advised. "We'll soon miss the
auction if we're not careful. Don't want the boys to miss that."
     If Michael and I had not been there to hold him, Alex would
have crumpled onto the floor the instant the ropes were loosened.
As it was, he barely had the strength left to stand. Samuel
naturally had a solution for us. We sat Alex down in the
examination chair, the same one used for Sebastian's latest
piercing, and strapped him in tight.
     Sam hooked up an intravenous solution for him.
     "One more needle, lad," he said in a gentle, kindly tone as
he found the vein in Alex' right arm and taped everything in
place. "Be still. You may rest for a while, but you may not fall
asleep. Sebastian, see that he stays awake."
     "Yes, master."
     While Alex was slowly regaining his strength, we carefully
packed everything away. Joshua and Thomas came in as if on cue to
help return everything to Samuel's luxuriant Land Rover. I saw
angry stripes and painful cuts on young Josh's backside, and also
noticed the boy's sparse dusting of pubic hair had been shaven,
leaving him perfectly smooth and hairless. I knew Wim's promised
punishment had been delivered. The boy stopped in front of me.
His eyes were still red.
     "I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, sir," he said, his
voice shaken and childlike. "My father asks your forgiveness for
my misbehavior, and so do I."
     I reached down and fondled his nice meaty fourteen-year-old
prick. Josh sighed. I removed my hand just as the boy was getting
hard. "Apology accepted. Now get moving."
     Not quite trusting Sebastian to be left alone, I asked
Robert if Michael could stay while we loaded up. He winked
knowingly and we departed. Josh was clearly in a great deal of
pain as he struggled with cartons much to heavy for his young
teenaged muscles. Thomas had a wonderful smirk on his face,
apparently enjoying every moment of the smaller boy's ongoing
punishment.
     When we returned to the drawing room, it was actually
Sebastian who was sound asleep on the floor. Alex was groggy but
awake and on his feet, his arm still attached to the IV pole.
Michael was holding him gently and rubbing his shoulders.
     "You've got to move, honey," Michael said in his tender way,
trying to coax the boy to stretch his sore and aching limbs.
     Alex gave it a half-hearted effort. "There. Happy now?" he
asked.
     Michael did not spank him for being insolent or offer any
physical discipline at all. He simply smiled knowingly. "You'll
wish you'd listened to me later. Don't expect a second chance."
     Robert returned the boy's leash to me and I clasped it in
place. Samuel carefully removed the needle and wrapped the boy's
arm where it had gone in.
     "That should keep him up and running for another twelve
hours at least," he observed as he packed the last remaining
supplies. "I'll take this out and meet you at the pavilion. Look
after Seb for me, will you?"
     Robert took the eleven-year-old firmly in hand. Together,
with Alex once more crawling on his hands and knees, we adjourned
to the gardens to await the auction, the promised climax of this
most unusual gathering.

     It was a strange ending, the only element of the affair that
seemed somehow surreal and fantastical. I suppose it was because
it was the only event that was not entirely real. Slaves were of
course changing hands, or being delivered back to their masters
after months of training, but it was all pre-arranged. It was
also being filmed, which only added to the sense that this was
mere entertainment.
     Not that it wasn't an amazing scene. There were seven slaves
in all, though I was told in years past the number could be much
higher or lower. All of them were naked, with iron collars around
their necks, their wrists and ankles in manacles. Numbers had
been painted onto their chests which had a meaning lost on me.
Two of them were just boys, one no more than ten years old. He
was a slender wisp of a lad with blond hair, so fair it was
almost white. Number seventy-three. I'd not seen him even once
until now. Vincent happened to be standing next to me, giving
Alex the shakes, and I asked him about the littlest slave. He
explained that the youngster was very new, too tender and fragile
yet to witness all that was going on. He'd been kept in a cage
the entire time, sequestered away from the pain and suffering of
his fellow slaves.
     Vince did not know his name, only that he was the nephew or
cousin or some relation to one of the more experienced masters
here. Bartholomew took the stage and dragged the first slave
forward, cracking the whip across his back, and the mock
competition for his ownership began. All of them, even the little
ten-year-old, were soon hard, basking in all the attention, and
Bartholomew's rough handling. More than a few of us in the crowd
were having the same reaction. For all its camp and almost
Romanesque excess, it was a fun and memorable moment, but not
everyone saw it as I did.
     Alex nudged me with his shoulder. I looked down to see him
distraught and close to tears.
     "How can they do that to someone?" he asked in a soft
wounded voice.
     Gently I raised him to his feet. "Honey, it's all for show.
No one's really being sold."
     "I don't care. It's wrong."
     I held him close, unprepared for how deeply this harmless
charade was affecting him, for how scared and angry he was in
that moment. He was shaking, almost uncontrollably. He gazed up
at me with tear filled eyes, and he was five again. I finally
began to understand.
     "You wouldn't ever . . ." he choked back a sob.
     Knowing he'd had enough, I quietly led him away. We walked
alone through the empty gardens as the auction continued in the
bright and noisy pavilion. Alex didn't say a single word. Often
he staggered on his unsure legs and pressed his weight against
me. I gripped his arm tightly and he begged me not to let him go.
The dark shadows under his eyes were a pitiable sight. His hands
were trembling involuntarily and he couldn't stop them no matter
how he tried. Often he'd turn his head sharply this way or that,
as if he'd heard voices calling behind him, looking over his
shoulder as if someone were chasing on his heels.
     Paranoia. Collins had told me to expect it sooner or later.
     I heard my own voice just then. 'He's just a boy. Stop this
right now before it goes too far.' I didn't listen.