Date: Fri, 22 Dec 2006 22:20:22 -0800 (PST)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: The Fate of a Poor Man's Son, part 19 CONCLUSION

THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, PART 19 CONCLUSION

By Master Redbeard
A time to every season...

This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between
males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for
this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age
is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this
story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to
read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better
if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are
someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get
some help.

I welcome reader response (no flames). Include name of the story in title
line. You can reach me at redbeardedsf at yahoo dot com.

			    - - - - - - - - - -

		 THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, chapter 19

	    By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo dot com)

The next weekend at Master Steve's I was exercised and shaved and cleaned
and oiled more carefully than ever before. Sam warned me to be on my very
best and most "slave-like" behavior, but didn't give me any further
information. Late Saturday afternoon I was called into the front parlor and
I rushed in immediately assuming slave kneel posture with my head bowed to
the rug.

McGee the slave trader was there to examine me and he did so in the most
brusque and businesslike manner. Master Steve sat back in a stuffed chair
and Sam stood back against a wall - acting more like a slave than I'd seen
him before - while the slave trader circled me and prodded me everywhere.

The fat man in the loud suit whistled through his teeth as he felt my back
and said, "Wow, those skin treatments really are remarkable. You realize
you can easily get more than ten times what you paid for this hunk of
slaveflesh." Next thing his fingernails were digging into my nipples,
twisting them and testing my pain tolerance. I didn't even blink. His
fingers tugged roughly at my testicles and then twisted them in their
sacs. At that I let out only a slight gasp.

I saw the slave trader give a nod to my master. Then he pushed down on my
shoulder as he unzipped his checked pants and tugged out his thick penis. I
knew what to do. I opened my mouth wide and sucked it all in. McGee wasn't
satisfied to have me service his enormous cock. He wanted to see if I could
take a really hard face fuck. But just when I thought he was close to
shooting a load down my throat, he pulled out and snapped his fingers to
indicate I should stand.

Sam was right beside me and the tall black slave was masturbating me as
McGee ran his hands all over my muscles. Sam caught my spunk in his left
hand and then held that hand out as the slave trader dipped his fingers in
to test and taste my cum. Then I felt the fat man's thick fingers against
my butthole, shoving in roughly and greasing me up.

Did McGee really like to fuck hard or did he just do it that way to test
out slaveflesh? Either way he was going to leave his mark on me. As his
large body bent over mine I could feel the metal of his ornate belt buckle
pressing into the tops of my buttcheeks. That mark stayed with me for two
days.

Afterwards when I was cleaning off his fat cock in my mouth, McGee wrote
down a number on a piece of paper and handed it over to my master.

Now it was Master Steve's turn to whistle. "That's quite a bit more than
ten times what I originally paid. And this number would be based on how
much more training and rehabilitation?" he asked.

"I'll give you that price for him right on the spot. I'm prepared to crate
him up and take him with me now."

I had been the perfect slave in front of the slave trader, but I stopped
dead in the midst of the cock cleaning. I was frozen with dread. McGee
smacked me on the side of the head as a warning and I continued. I tried to
tune out the rest of the conversation. Slaves are supposed to live for the
moment, to live for their master's pleasure. It was none of my business
what was to become of me. But I couldn't help hearing every word and every
nuance as the men discussed my fate.

The men continued their conversation as they headed toward the door. I was
still kneeling in the middle of the sitting room when I heard Master Steve
assuring McGee, "The papers are all in order. He's enslaved for life."

For life? It was only supposed to be for five years and fifteen days. But I
remembered what I'd been told back at the Winston estate: Between the
captain and the judge they could get any enslavement decree extended.

Master Steve and Sam didn't use me for sex that night. I closed my eyes and
repeated again and again, "I'm a slave for life. I'm a slave for life." All
that I'd felt for Master Red, and what I believed he felt for me, was just
delusion. And as for the kindnesses of Master Steve and Sam, I reminded
myself that for them I was a financial investment.

Back at the university things had changed. It felt like I was on exhibition
most of the time. I often posed for pictures and took x-rays and was
examined by medical teams from around the world. The graduate student who
had doubted Dr. Red's theories was now his greatest proponent, laughing
about his former skepticism.

There were no more intellectual conversations with Dr. Red. I slept on the
floor of his bedroom but he always went to bed dressed in t-shirt and
sweatpants, hiding his body from me. He would give me books to read, but
would never discuss the books with me. I would thank him for the books in
the same way that I had thanked free men for the privilege of drinking
their piss. I read these great works of literature and philosophy wondering
what good any of this would do when I was working in a brothel or in a
quarry.

Thursday night Master Red stood silently beside my sleeping mat and handed
me a photograph. I looked at it and blinked. I could tell that the man in
the picture was Master Red, albeit a number of years younger. The free boy
beside him in the picture looked for all the world like I did just a few
years earlier.

Before I could react he pulled the picture from me and he climbed into his
own bed. I turned my back to go to sleep and he turned out the light. I
don't know how many minutes of silence passed before Master Red began
speaking. "That was my son," he said barely louder than a whisper. "He was
just thirteen or fourteen in that picture."

More silence before he started up again, as if completely unrelated, "I
used to stick my dick into slaveboys all the time. I grew up with slaves in
the house. I always went to slaveboy brothels and my wife approved. But
then..."

The scientist in the bed across the room seemed to be searching for
words. "My son was such a smart and accomplished boy - sometimes too smart
for his own good. My wife and I never really got tough with him. But he was
always a good boy. It was just this one thing that happened."

I glanced over my shoulder. Master Red was lying in bed facing away from me
as he spoke. "He wanted to hang out with older kids. He was only fifteen
and he looked young for his age. He always wanted to prove that he was cool
and that he wasn't just a brain. Neither my wife nor I knew that he got a
fake I.D. card - an I.D. that said he was eighteen.

"When the cops stopped the car and arrested all the boys for marijuana
possession, they treated my son like he was eighteen. Because he had the
I.D. card with him, he got s-s-stripped and ens-s-s-slaved as if he was
legal age." I could tell this was a difficult part of the story for Dr. Red
to tell and yet now he was talking fast. He wanted to get it all out.

"His mother and I didn't even know where he was. We filed a missing persons
report. The problem was that he was enslaved under the name that was on the
I.D. card. It was ridiculous. One look at the boy and anyone could tell he
wasn't really eighteen. We finally found one person from the courthouse, a
trainee guard who dropped out of the slave police program, who remembered
seeing a young-looking slave boy who kept trying to tell someone that he
was only fifteen and to tell someone what his real name was. But when the
boy called out the guards only... they only...."

There was a heavy sigh from the bed. "My son disappeared five years ago. It
was the disorganized mess in that damn judge's office that made it so
difficult to try to trace him. Plus the SP was no help whatsoever. If the
boy broke the law, if the boy had a fake I.D., he only got what he deserved
- damn them all to hell! My marriage broke up within that first year. It
wasn't until two years ago when Sgt Steve was on the SP and he heard about
my case... well, that's how Steve became such a good friend to me and how
come I owe him such a great debt. That's also why he spent so much time
trying to investigate Judge Snow. It's when Steve got on the case that
I... I found out."

There was something about the way Master Red said the words "I found out"
that told me he had learned the worst news possible about his son.

The silence lasted. I could tell by the sound of his breathing that Master
Red wasn't asleep. There was no way I could fall asleep with my mind
spinning. I didn't expect the older man to speak again, so I was surprised
when he said, "Now you understand why I couldn't... couldn't use you for
sex, Wally. I couldn't let you...."

"I love you!" I called out, sitting up on my sleeping mat. No thought
preceded those words. I just blurted them out, startling myself with the
sound of my own voice. "Please, Master, I've never loved anyone the way I
love you."

"You foolish boy!" he shouted as he flipped around to face me. "You dumb
kid! Love? Your mind and your personality have been warped by
enslavement. After the abuse you knew under your previous masters my little
bit of kindness has made you feel..." He stammered, lost for words. "I will
not take advantage of a slaveboy desperate for affection!"

There was nothing I could say. I turned over on my sleeping mat. I can't
say whether I ever got fully asleep that night. All through the night I
could hear Master Red breathing and occasionally sighing. I knew he wasn't
asleep either. If only the two of us lived in a different world. If only we
could have found each other in some different universe where I could have
spent that night as this man's lover sleeping in his arms.

* * * * * * * *

It is a serious matter for a slave to make any accusation or to speak
negatively about a free person. In spite of the generally informal manner
of Master Steve and Sam, I had never dared mention anything about my former
masters. But after what I had heard from Master Red, I knew that I had to
say something before it was too late.

I spoke to Sam. I began by carefully saying I had heard that Master Steve
was investigating the office of Judge Snow. Less than ten minutes later I
found myself standing in front of Master Steve being interrogated about
what I knew. I told him everything I knew about Rye and his brothers,
knowing that they had been enslaved at young ages by the machinations of
Captain Winston and Judge Snow. Then I told him about my younger brother,
about the captain telling me weeks in advance how my brother would be
framed for the crime of stealing candlesticks, and how the captain showed
me a document claiming that my adolescent brother was eighteen!

The next day I was taken to the construction company where Sam worked and
left there. I was considered too scrawny to do construction work, and
Master Steve didn't want me housed with the brawny men ("they would wear
out the asshole on this boy") so I worked cleaning the barracks during the
days and slept in a small pantry off the kitchen in the main house. Master
Steve explained before he left that he would be going to the town of
Winston for an extended stay and therefore he had to leave me and Sam in a
secure place. I didn't ask any questions, but I wondered why I wasn't being
left with Master Red.

It was more than three weeks later and without any warning I was grabbed by
two transport workers, stripped naked, and shackled inside a crate for
shipment. Slaves were never supposed to have explanations and were always
supposed to expect the worst. I saw that Sam was in another crate on the
same transport, but we were both gagged so couldn't speak to each other.

Many hours passed and I slipped in and out of consciousness. I only opened
my eyes and looked through the slats as I felt the transport come to a
stop. What I saw made me hyperventilate. I felt sweat drip down my forehead
and all across my body and yet I was shivering as if I would freeze to
death. Even prepared for the worst, I wasn't prepared for this.

The two crates were removed from the transport and opened. Sam and I were
both unshackled. And I was once again on the Winston estate, standing out
back of the Winston mansion.

My mind was reeling. What had happened? What had gone wrong? I was sure
that I was now back in the possession of Captain Winston. I would be made
to pay for the crime of speaking ill about my former masters.

I was startled then when Master Steve came out of the back door of the
mansion. He seemed relaxed and greeted us both in a cheerful mood. I tried
to turn off my brain. Whatever was going on it was more than I could
fathom.

He ushered us into the house, through the slave quarters and into the front
parlor, where he invited both of us to sit. To sit? In the parlor of the
house where I'd been enslaved? Master Steve sat back in the biggest chair
and told us the story of his investigation in the town of Winston.

Sgt Steve Masters had showed up at the Winston estate with his slave police
credentials saying that he had to examine all the household slaves on the
premises. Knowing what I had told him about the place being bugged with
microphones and cameras, he brought his own trailer for the slave
exams. Even then he was cautious since the captain might have found a way
to listen in. As Steve suspected, the captain had found ways to shuffle
paperwork and sneak boys out of the house to make it appear that my brother
(and any other underage boy) was not a household slave.

The slave police had gone through the elaborate charade of the slave
examinations in order for Steve to communicate with Rye. As part of the
exam, each slave had been given a few paragraphs to read and then had to
answer some questions. Rye's piece of paper was phony - it explained that
Sgt Steve Masters was investigating underage enslavements by Judge Snow and
Captain Winston and that he needed Rye's help. Master Steve slipped Rye a
small capsule, which could be activated with saliva. On a night when the
big blond slave knew that Captain Winston had taken an underage slave up to
his rooms, Rye would put the capsule under his tongue and that would act as
an alarm for Master Steve and the slave police to raid the house.

"Your friend Rye performed bravely," Master Steve said. "We not only caught
Captain Winston in the act, but Brad Winston as well." Shaking his head,
the slave police sergeant muttered, "It's a shame our investigation didn't
begin sooner. Those twin boys were so young. They were both crying and
lying side by side, the captain on top of one and Brad on the other."

I blanched thinking about the Blank twins, the boys whose crude father had
been arranging a loan with Captain Winston. I used to babysit them when
they were so young, and now they had experienced the same indignities I
had.

"Once we had the captain in custody it became easy to find the paperwork on
a lot of cases."

"B-but, w-what happened to Captain Winston and to Brad? And what about Rye
and my brother?"

"The culprits have already been enslaved. Brad was purchased by the leading
chain of BDSM boy brothels. They'll start him off in the New York house and
as he deteriorates he'll get shipped to some second tier city in the
Midwest. When he's a complete wreck in another two years or so he'll
probably end up somewhere in Southern Asia. Captain Winston has been sold
to a very progressive concern for their sulfur mines. They completely
remove the genitals before slaves are sent down into the mines. It hardly
matters since none of them ever come up from the mines again."

A slim and cute young slaveboy entered the room with a tray of
sandwiches. With his head bowed, dressed in just white slave briefs, he
knelt in front of me to offer me the tray. I felt lost for a moment. I was
a slave. I shouldn't be sitting here in a free man's room being served by a
slave. When I looked down at the slaveboy I was startled to see that it was
Randy Winston.

"Randy, what...?" I began. Then I turned to Master Steve and said, "No, you
shouldn't have enslaved Randy. He wasn't like his father or brother. He was
always good to us and...."

A voice from the doorway said, "Randy wasn't enslaved against his will. His
was a voluntary enslavement."

Seeing a tall distinguished-looking man in expensive slacks and a sweater,
I immediately jumped to my feet and bowed my head. But then I looked up
when I realized it was Rye. He was grinning broadly at me. We ran into each
other's arms and hugged. I buried my face in his chest, in the expensive
cashmere of his sweater. "But, how...? When...?"

Master Steve answered, "The Winston estate will be divided between a number
of freed slaves - ones who were falsely enslaved and abused at a young
age. Of all those affected, Ryan here has the greatest claim. The captain
took him when he was quite young, held him for more years than any other,
and of course there's also the loss of... well..."

I looked up at Rye - Ryan now - and he nodded, "Only one of my brothers is
still alive and that just barely. He has pretty much lost his mind. But I'm
making arrangements for him to be cared for in a fine facility. He will be
waited on hand and foot."

"And Ryan can afford that now."

"But what about...?" I turned toward Randy, who had already crawled over to
Ryan. Randy's face was pressed against the soft fabric of Ryan's pants and
he had a beatific expression. "I thought Randy didn't approve of slavery?"

"Permission to speak, master?" Randy asked looking up at the tall blond man
who was now his owner. "Sir, I do not approve of seeing the wrong men
enslaved. Deep in my heart I know that this is right - me on my knees in
front of Master Ryan."

Before I could even absorb all I'd just heard there was my little brother
Will standing in the doorway of the room. He was dressed in jeans and a
nice polo shirt. He spread his arms wide and we embraced. I held him so
tight in my grip. From behind me I heard Master Steve explain, "Will's
share of the captain's money won't be nearly as great as Ryan's but he'll
be well set up."

Will handed me a bundle of clothes: boxer shorts, jeans, socks, sneakers
and a nice button-down shirt. I looked from face to face wondering what was
going on. Master Steve came up beside me and used a special slave police
key to remove my slave collar. I touched my neck in amazement.

"Everything was legal as far as enslaving you for two years and fifteen
days, Wally. You were over eighteen, all the paperwork was in order. But
that fast trick the captain's lawyers pulled at the last minute of
extending the enslavement to five years and fifteen days, that was not
legal. So of course the captain's lifetime extension was completely
illegal. You're free Wally."

"Free?" I said the word as if I'd never spoken it before.

Steve was rattling on about how I would get a small settlement from the
captain's estate. Not too much though - I hadn't been enslaved underage and
I had only served less than a year beyond my original legal enslavement of
two years and fifteen days. But I couldn't follow his words at the time. I
was free.

I began to step into the pair of free boy boxer shorts. Steve Masters
yelled out, "You better get those clothes on fast before I arrest you for
indecent exposure, Wally. Free boys don't show their dicks and asses in
front of a crowd of people in a living room." We then all burst into
laughter.

There was more though. Will told me the news that our father had died in a
tragic accident in South America. I wasn't surprised to hear it and I would
always wonder whether that was really an accident or whether my father's
death had been engineered by the evil Captain Winston. Mr. Blank had
committed suicide just before his enslavement hearing. Now his young twin
sons were staying at the estate where they had briefly served as slaves. It
seemed Ryan was acting as a surrogate parent to my younger brother and the
twins.

I slept in a big comfortable bed along with my brother. There was no
sex. We just talked into the night. He told me that he felt totally
heterosexual. I told him that I wasn't sure, but that I knew I had a
certain attraction to guys. We laughed together about memories from our
childhood and we never mentioned the horrors we each experienced as slaves.

The next morning I told Ryan where I had to go and he loaned me his driver
and limo for the day. I showed up at Dr. Red's office just as he was about
to eat his lunch. He grinned from ear to ear and said, "Steve told me the
good news, son. I couldn't be happier."

"Put that sandwich away," I said in a commanding voice. "I'm taking you out
to lunch."

The professor laughed and led me to the student union where lunch was
pretty economical. Of course I had never been to the student union before
because slaves were not allowed. Over our meal I discussed my education
options with Dr. Red. Where I should go to school and what subjects I might
choose as a major.

"You have a mind for science, Wally, that's for sure. But I think that your
experiences and your thoughtful nature could take you beyond scientific
research. There's a need for great minds today in the field of
bio-ethics. With all our medical technology, what we're capable of doing,
the sort of decisions that have to be made, how can we maintain ethics and
humanity?"

Dr. Red had to teach a class and I took the opportunity to tour the
campus. Dressed in my jeans, nice shirt, and expensive sweater, I fit right
in. I wore a baseball cap to hide my short slave haircut and nobody
suspected I had so recently been a slave. At one point I sat at a library
table directly across from a girl who was part of Dr. Red's research
team. Just a short while before that she had seen me naked on a daily
basis. I made a point of asking her a question. She smiled, answered me,
and gave no indication that she recognized me.

Later in the day I told Dr. Red that I'd already sent the limo back to the
Winston estate and I was hoping I could stay at his house. He seemed
flustered for a moment, but then said, "Well, now that you're not a slave
you don't have to sleep in the same room with me. I can let you sleep in
the guest room."

We prepared pasta for dinner and discussed some of the big questions facing
bio-ethicists today. At one point Dr. Red said, "For argument's sake, let's
say there are 20,000 slaves who have been so damaged by whipping and abuse
that they're virtually worthless, likely to be discarded in one gruesome
way or another. Now let's say that my treatment could extend the usefulness
of most of these slaves, extend their lives. But - and now we're jumping to
some point in the future - let's say there is only capacity to treat 2,000
of those slaves. The other 18,000 will face their gruesome fates and an
early end to their lives." He took a long pause before he said, "Who
chooses which 18,000 do not get the treatment?" Then he looked me in the
eyes and said, "Do you see why the field of bio-ethics needs a young man
like you, Wally?"

I stirred the pasta but remained silent for a long time then. I had faced
that prospect as a slave, knowing my life could end prematurely because my
body was so torn up by abuse. I was the one lucky slave who got the
experimental treatment from Dr. Red. A slight twist of fate could have
easily gone the other way and instead of standing there as a free boy I
would have already been dead.

Dr. Red shared a bottle of wine with me and it went to my head. I had no
experience with drinking. Then he insisted on washing the dishes without
any help from me. "After all," he joked, "it's not as if you're a slave in
this house." He told me to go into the guest bedroom and make myself
comfortable.

But I went into Dr. Red's bedroom instead. I stripped naked, knelt on the
floor and assumed slave rest position with my hands behind my head waiting
for my host to enter the room. Red stopped dead in the doorway. After a
pause he said, "What kind of foolishness is this?"

"Please, master, permission to speak?"

"Get up off your knees, Wally. You're not a slave anymore. You don't have
to do this."

"I know I don't have to do this, sir. But when I was a slave you said you
wouldn't have sex with me because I would be doing it as a slave and
now..." I looked right up in his eyes, but remained in slave rest
position. "Now I'm a free boy and I could be anywhere in the world. I could
be doing anything I want with anyone, sir. But all I want is to be here on
my knees serving you, master."

The learned man moved toward me slowly and caressed my face. I kissed his
hand. He pulled off his shirt. His body was so hairy. His tummy wasn't
flat, but that suited him. He was after all a middle-aged man. But to my
eyes he was the most beautiful man. Then he languidly stretched out on his
bed and put his arms behind his head.

I knelt beside the bed for a long moment until he said, "My shoes, boy." I
smiled and went to work removing his shoes and socks. I kissed and licked
each of his feet as they were revealed. Licking the sweat off the bottom of
his feet - all I could think was that I felt so much love and so much
respect for this brilliant man of science. He had stood on his feet all day
teaching classes and leading his research. Now I was giving him comfort by
licking his feet with my tongue.

He patted the bed beside him and I moved up to start licking his chest. I
didn't care about the chest hairs in my teeth. I nursed and suckled on each
of his nipples causing him to moan. It was music to my ears. I was giving
pleasure to the man I worshipped.

My hands trembled as I opened his pants and lowered them. His cock was
stiff and tenting his boxer shorts. I peeled down the front of his
underwear and began slobbering all over his tool with my tongue. I opened
wide and gobbled down the length of his dick, my nose grinding in his pubes
and my chin rubbing in the warm sweaty wetness of his balls.

But he soon pulled me off his cock. His arms were spread wide and I moved
up into them. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me full on the
mouth. His tongue pushed deep down my throat as he rolled me onto my
back. His hands were all over me and my hands moved all over his big hairy
body. I'd had sex with bodies that were younger and more muscular. I'd been
sexed up by men who were more demanding and forceful. But this was the most
sensual experience of my life. I knew that I was being held by the love of
my life.

My legs were up over his shoulders and he leaned down to spit right into my
butthole. He placed the fat head of his cock against the hole but then
looked at me to say, "You're shaking. Are you sure you want this, son?"

"More than anything in the world, sir. It's just that... Well, this will be
my first time doing it as a free boy. It's almost like I'm a virgin
again. You're getting the virginity of the free boy Wallace Smith."

He thrust his tongue down my throat at the same time as he thrust his thick
cock into my ass. I pushed back to meet both thrusts. When he started to
fuck my ass, I was moving up to meet each of his downward moves. We were
both sweating and glued together with our sweat. When his juice was pumping
into me and my own cock was spurting on his hairy belly, we both called out
in unison, "I love you."

The next day I moved into Doc's house. I started calling him Doc. I told
him I was prepared to become a voluntary slave so I could belong to
him. But he took me to a different floor of the courthouse and obtained
different paperwork. Doc didn't want to enslave me. He wanted to adopt
me. And so I became Wallace Smith Redbeard.

I began as a student at the institute the following semester. Once I'd
received my bachelor of science degree, I became Doc's research
assistant. I earned a master's degree in bio-engineering and another
master's degree in philosophy and ethics. I went on to earn a
cross-curricular doctorate degree in bio-ethics. A dozen years later I
would chair the Presidential Commission on Ethical Treatment of Slaves.

The town of Winston underwent many drastic changes. Some prominent men were
shown to be in cahoots with Captain Winston and Judge Snow. The high school
principal and the athletic director were the first two on the slave auction
block, followed soon by the school headmaster who had framed my little
brother and gotten him enslaved. Judge Snow's courthouse was taken over by
a woman who was considered beyond reproach and an intellectual giant.

Ryan became chair of Winston Foods. Under his leadership both the company
and the town of Winston thrived. The workers had more money in their
pockets, there were better living conditions, and there were improvements
in the town's schools, parks, and small businesses.

My brother Will never got over his bitterness about his slave
experience. He moved to Belgium, which everyone knows is the leading
anti-slavery state in Europe, married a beautiful woman and is raising four
lovely children. He refuses to even bring his family for a visit to the
United States. He doesn't want his children to experience slavery or to
ever be at risk of enslavement.

Sgt Steve Masters never had a chance to profit from my sale. But that
didn't matter since Ryan fully financed Steve and Sam's slave training
venture. At the same time, Steve had become quite a celebrity because of
his work in the town of Winston - he was offered plum jobs in the state
capital. But he wanted to be his own boss. He wrote a book about the
scandalous behavior of Judge Snow and Captain Winston, and he used the
publicity to help generate business for his slave training center. Also, he
and Sam were smart about investing in slaves and being able to raise their
value. Within two years Steve was filthy rich. A few years after that,
Steve had enough clout with the governor to get Sam freed so they could
live together as real partners.

As I write this, Doc and I are preparing for our 25th anniversary
together. Many at the Institute are urging my white-haired lover to retire,
but he has a lot of good years left in him. I do a good deal of traveling
and lecturing now. But when I'm away we video conference every day and
usually enjoy cam-to-cam sex.

A few years ago for my 40th birthday, Doc bought me a beautiful young
slaveboy we named Puppy. He had just turned legal age, was just enslaved by
his drunken father, and was frightened when he first arrived. It took quite
a few canings before the boy became a passable cocksucker. But I always
kept within the punishment limits set by my own commission for ethical
treatment of slaves - even when the boy yelped and squealed during his
circumcision.

The slaveboy only got three whippings his first year with us and it's been
more than six months since we whipped him last. I can see that now he
derives great pleasure from being an obedient slave and pleasing his
masters. Nowadays Puppy sleeps at our feet most nights and he's learned the
cutest trick of taking both cocks in his mouth at the same time.

Given that his father enslaved him, he is lucky to have such kind and
ethical masters. In my youth, when things went from bad to worse, I was not
blessed with such good masters - but then fate turned it all around.
Puppy's life is good. My life is wonderful. May such sweet lives be the
fate of every poor man's son.