A story written by Pete Brown. (Chapter 4 of 17  –> here you find the other chapters of the story).


I was astounded, I suppose is the best word. I hadn’t even started worKing yet, and already I’d got another six weeKs worK to pay off. I sat there, seething, but in silence.


Soon we ran into rain – heavy rain. A storm seemed to have hit the area. The guy drove on for a couple of hours, traffic crawling along, then turned off the Interstate and rolled to a halt outside one of those chain motels – one of the cheap ones.


“Stay there!”, he said to me, then ran across to reception, came bacK, drove to a room, told me to “stay there” again and went in, carrying a small overnight bag from the trunK. I shifted around in the seat, played the radio a bit, and waited. I began to thinK that I ought to go and KnocK on the door, but eventually he emerged and got bacK in the car.


“Right, dinner.”


He drove off down the strip, and I scanned the sKy for the illuminated signs of the chains I liKed. After the food at the centre, I was really looKing forward to a good Mexican, or Chinese, and I was expecting him to start talKing about what Kind of food we wanted, as you do when you’re travelling together. But instead of that, he just pulled in to a steaK place, and parKed.


“You’d better come on in with me…”, he said, and I cheered up a bit: at least steaK would be better than the bland pap I’d had for the last few days. It was still early, and there were not many diners, but they still tried to pull that “would you liKe to wait at the bar, sir, whilst we get a table ready” crap – he Knew all about it, though, and said he’d go elsewhere if they were so busy, and we were soon seated.  He leafed through the menu, and when the waitress came over ordered a sirloin, medium rare, with a baKed potato with butter, and a glass of pinot noir.


My mouth was watering, and I was waiting for him to pass me the menu, when he flicKed it open to the bacK page, scanned it, and said “And he’ll have the pasta with meat-substitute sauce from the indentured menu, and water.”


FucK me – I wasn’t going to get to choose what I wanted. I looKed at him, and said, quietly, “Sir, it’s ages since I had a steaK….”


“And ages more before you get another, I expect. Most employers use the meat substitutes and so on to feed indentured servants, as it’s so much less expensive. LooK, Steve, you’re still not thinKing liKe a servant – it’s men who get to choose what they eat and when they eat it; servants get fed what their employer chooses, when it’s convenient for him. You really had better try and change your mindset, or you’ll be in real trouble.”


I had to sit there and watch as he devoured his steaK – the savoury smell wafted to me as I spooned down my utterly tasteless pasta with some sort of slimy brown sauce on it. There wasn’t all that much of it, either, and I finished ages before him. All I could do was watch him eat.


He didn’t finish all of it, and about a quarter of the steaK sat on his plate, running with juice. He picKed up his Knife and forK and cut a small section off, then sKewered it on his forK. He pointed it towards me, and said “Here….”


I went to taKe the forK from him, but he held on to it, and I had to lean forward and taKe the succulent morsel off it straight into my mouth. I chewed it, and, man, was it good. I watched as he put his Knife and forK down, then called “Cheque, please…”


I sat there, expectantly, but then the waitress came over and started to remove the plate. “Hey….”, I said, and reached for it.


“Shut it, Steve! How dare you! You’re worse than an animal – I could have left you in the car, you Know, and brought your food out with me in a doggy bag. But, as it’s cold and rainy I let you come in here with me and you start to misbehave. It’s probably just a well you’re not my servant, or you’d have earned another weeK on your sentence for that little display.”


“But, sir, that steaK… It was going to waste…”


“So? You’ve been fed. And I’d been nice and given you a little extra. You weren’t expecting to be allowed to eat the remains of my steaK, were you? “


Well, actually, I was. How would it have hurt him to have given it to me, before it was taKen out and thrown away?


“It’s not good for you, you Know, all that fat there is in steaK and butter. And you’ve already eaten – the last thing I want is for you to get flabby. Now, try and fucKing well behave properly, will you?”


We drove bacK to the motel in silence, and when we got there I opened my door and got out. He stood looKing at me across the roof of the car. “You don’t fucKing learn, do you, Steve?

What maKes you thinK you’re coming in? I could just maKe you sleep here, to Keep the local low-life away from my car. LooK, I’m trying to help you out – some employers will really taKe it bad if you Keep taKing the lead, maKing assumptions. Just wait until you’re told to do something, then do it, do it quicKly, and do it well!”


He stood there, looKing at me. I thought of the prospect of a cold night inside his small car, and said, as humbly as I could, “Sir, sorry, sir.”


But even as I did it, my anger welled inside me. I’d had a buddy once who left town and joined the marines, and when I met him about a year later, he’d gone all subservient liKe that – someone gave him a cup of coffee, and he’d say “Ma’am, thanK you, ma’am”. As I’ve said, I used to be polite, with my own business and everything, clients expect that. But not fucKing subservient. If I’d wanted to slavishly follow someone else’s orders, to get someone else to thinK for me, I could have gone off and joined the fucKing marines too. But what was I to do now? He seemed to hold all the cards. I didn’t liKe to thinK of my big body all cramped up


inside that tiny car. So, holding myself in checK, I went on “….really, sorry, sir. ThanK you for the advice, sir.  I’m trying to learn, sir.”


He gave me a sort of half smile. “FucKing bullshit, Steve! But a nice try. You deserve a bit of encouragement – so come into the warm tonight.”


It was an absolutely standard motel room – bathroom on the left, clothes cupboard on the right, two big double beds, and a TV on a dresser. His bag was lying on the side, and I saw a clean shirt hanging in the clothes area.


“Get in the bathroom then – there’s a travelling toothbrush for you, and use my paste. And be quicK about it, as we have an early start in the morning.”


I cleaned my teeth and washed my hands and face, and went bacK into the bedroom. “This is yours”, he said, pointing at the bed nearest the bathroom.


I puled my T over my head, then pulled bacK the covers on the bed and got in.


“Hey! Get out at once, and hang those shorts up! They’re the only ones you’ve got, and I don’t want to deliver you tomorrow looKing all scruffy in creased shorts. And I Know young studs liKe you – you’ll leaK cum all over them, too. So off with them.”


I got to my feet, and slipped the shorts down. NaKed, I walKed over to where the clothes wer e hanging, folded the shorts, and put them on a spare hanger.  Then I walKed bacK, and went to get into the bed.


“Yes, I was right.   You Know, Steve, you are one amazing piece of man flesh, even though I say so myself, having picKed you. Your dicK and balls are just right, and you really do have that ‘something’ I told you about earlier. So, I’ve been good to you tonight – fed you, let you in here in the warm…. So how about showing some gratitude?”


As he was speaKing he pulled off is polo shirt and dropped his chinos, and walKed, in his designer boxers, to hang them up.


“Sir, thanK you, sir. I’m really grateful…. It’s a cold night out there…”


“That wasn’t what I meant, Steve! I wanted a little more tangible way of you thanKing me. So… Shall we fucK?”


I was genuinely shocKed. Here I was, lying naKed in bed, with another guy in his boxers asKi ng me if I wanted to fucK.


“Sir, NO, sir! LooK, I don’t do that… I’m straight… “


“OK, OK. You breeders are so touchy!  Now, tell me, honestly – I left the papers in the car, but I can always checK tomorrow, and if I found you lied to me… Tell me, did you agree to the ‘can be used sexually’ clause?”


“NO, sir!”


“So I can’t order you to let me fucK you, then. And you really don’t fancy experimenting, trying something new….?”


As he said this he slipped his boxers off, and I saw his dicK jutting out – he’d got an erection, the dirty bugger. Fancy letting another guy see you liKe that!


He came and sat on the edge of my bed, and rested his hand on my shoulder. I could hardly Keep my eyes off his erect dicK, sticKing out from his body just a few inches away from where my head was lying on the pillow.


“There are other things we could do, you Know… Things you could not legitimately refuse. For example, I could decide to share this bed with you – I’d quite liKe to feel your body all over me, the two of us, naKed, all night…. Sound fun to you? The courts have ruled that that isn’t being used sexually, you Know – that needs some exchange of semen”


“Sir, please, no, sir… LooK, I’m straight… I’ve never done anything liKe that. Even when my best buddy Rob and I went camping, we always had separate sleeping bags…”


He leaned over me, and I could smell his male scent filling my nostrils. He stroKed my hair, and said “OK, well, you’re the loser, you Know. Most of the guys I go with thinK I’m pretty hot in the sacK, and wouldn’t dream of turning me down…”


I did my best to stop myself from shuddering as his hand touched me, and just shooK my head. He got up from my bed, his dicK jutting rigorously out, and climbed into the other bed.


“Good night, then, Steve.” “Sir, good night.”

I heard him start to jerK himself off immediately – he didn’t even maKe an attempt to conceal what he was doing. My dicK was hard, too, so I started to stroKe myself to a climax, and just as I was about to cum, reached out for a tissue from the box I always Keep by the bed just for this – and felt the empty night stand. Oh, fucK me, I wasn’t bacK in my old apartment! I tried to stop, but I was right on the edge, and suddenly I felt my dicK start to pump huge quantities of my semen out into the bed. I lay there for a moment, wondering what to do. Then I moved, and felt it start to go all over me. Oh, shit – I wanted to get out of bed and go and get a towel or something, but I Knew the other guy wasn’t asleep, and he’d see me in this dreadful

So I had to lie there and let it dry, maKing the sheets all hard, and I Kept getting those little tugging sensations as my body hair got stucK to my sKin, and to the sheets, as the stuff dried.


As soon as it was light I got out of bed and rushed into the shower.  But as I came bacK into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around my waist for decency, there the guy was with the covers of my bed pulled bacK. He ran his hand along, and said “I thought I heard you shoot last night. Fine load of cum that must have been, to maKe stains this big!  Now, what are you doing?”



I was flushing with embarrassment, for one thing, as you don’t liKe other men to Know you’ve been doing things liKe jerKing off, do you? We all Know all other guys indulge, but we never speaK about it. And now here he was, his hand on the sheets that were still warm from my body, looKing at the huge stiff opaque patch I’d left.


“Sir, I was going to get dressed, sir.” “No, Steve – that towel.  What’s it for?”

“Sir, after a shower, at the pool and stuff, you always put a towel on…”


“Steve, we’re both guys. And I own your contract – I’m your employer.  And I’ve seen you naKed lots of times yesterday. And listened to you jerK yourself off.  So why are you wearing that towel now? It isn’t to Keep you warm, is it? It isn’t to protect you from dangerous animals or insects, or to stop wild plants tearing at your sKin? Or is it some sort of bizarre religious ritual?”


I flushed even more now, and mumbled “Sir, no, sir”. “So why are you wearing it?”

“Sir… It’s just that, well, I’m not used to being naKed with another guy in a bedroom, sir…”


He smiled, moved over to me, and simply pulled the towel away, to taKe another looK at my body. “I Keep telling you, your body’s fantastic. Believe me, I am a connoisseur! So no need to Keep it hidden. I’m beginning to wish I could afford a servant of my own, as I’m going to hate handing you over later today.”


He went off and showered, too. But as he went into the bathroom, he called out “Remember what I said about not taKing the initiative, Steve?”


“Sir, yes, sir.”


“Well, remember, I haven’t told you that you can dress yet…” I stopped pulling my shorts on, and gently folded them again and tried to get them bacK on the hanger without maKing a noise. I hated standing there in the nude, but there didn’t seem to be any point in antagonising the guy

– after all, he was right:  he had seen it before, after all.


When he came out of the shower, totally naKed, he left me standing there as he casually dressed himself, and I felt fucKing stupid to have to be there liKe that. When he was done, he looKed at himself in the mirror, smiled as if to say what a handsome devil he was, then turned to me and said casually “OK, you can get dressed now. And hurry… I want some breaKfast.”


Well, it doesn’t taKe any time at all to pull on just a T and shorts, does it, and I padded after him, feet bare, across the car parK to a coffee shop. There was one of those signs that said “No shoe, no shirt, no service”, and as we went in the hostess pointed at my bare feet and to the notice.


“Oh, he’s an indentured servant – that notice only applies to regular patrons”, he told her airily, and she shrugged, and led us to two seats by the window. We must have looKed just liKe two buddies out early, sitting there on opposite sides of the table, as when the waitress came she smiled, said “Good morning, gentlemen – coffee?”


The guy held his cup out, and I went to do the same thing, until I saw him start to glare at me. “My servant will only taKe water”, he told her. He then ordered a full breaKfast for himself, and idly flicKed through the menu. “You don’t have indentured specials here, do you?”


“No sir.” The waitress smiled again. “But a lot of employers who come in here find they can picK items from our regular foods, sir. Might I suggest oatmeal, a glass of orange, and toast without butter but with jelly?  That seems to be very popular.”


“Good thinKing. But cut the juice – that’s expensive, and bring him a double helping of oatmeal

  • he’s a big lad and he needs filling ”


He sat there, idly leafing through USA Today, until the food came. Then I had to watch as he ate his meal as I worKed my way through the bland fare he’d ordered for me.


“Stop looKing liKe that”, he suddenly said. “It’s not the end of the world, you Know. You’ve got a perfectly nutritious breaKfast there, and a lot of servants would be glad of the opportunity to sit and relax as you are.  If you had to worK hard all morning, that lot would Keep you going, and that’s what you’ve got to thinK of, when you’re a servant. Now, eat up – and I want to see every bit finished as I don’t want you faint from hunger when I hand you over!”


We didn’t speaK much again as he powered the car down the Interstate, then guided it through really rather nice country, occasionally stopping to consult a map. Then we were outside a pair of huge gates, and he stopped the car, said “Here we are, Steve, your new home”, and got out to go and speaK on the intercom. After the gates swung open we drove up an immaculately tended drive that went through a belt of trees, then came out in front of a huge house – it looKed new, so I guess the white pillars and stuff were all “mocK southern plantation” style. He drove around to the bacK, and there, at right angles to the main house, was a two-story building in the same style.


“OK, Steve, out of the car. Now, best behaviour! First impressions count, you Know.”


We went into the two storey building, and into a small office.  The man behind the desK at once got to his feet, and I saw he was wearing a typical servant’s shorts and a T.  He was a huge guy – he had at least a couple of inches on me, and was probably fifty pounds heavier. His hair was really short, and he looKed, well, tough. I guessed he as in his early forties.


“Sir, welcome again.”


“ThanK you, Tony. I’ve got the new indentured servant here for your employer.” “Yes, sir,  We were expecting you.  Is this him?”

“Steve, this is Tony, your employer’s head indentured servant. As I said, your new employer is a very rich, busy man, and so he employs Tony here to oversee all the other servants and to run things generally.”


I stucK out my hand. “Hi, Tony, Steve…”


He just stood there, and snapped “Boy, you’d better learn respect from the start! I run this place for our employer. He gives me power to treat the other servants just as he would himself. So you just do as you’re told, OK? And you always address me as ‘Boss’, as that’s what I am – I oversee your worK totally. Understand?”


“Yes…. Boss.”


“Right, before we do all the paperworK, let me have a quicK looK at you just to maKe sure that everything’s in order…. Strip.”


“And, sir…”, he said to the agent guy, “Can we offer you a drinK, sir, whilst we wait? I thinK there’ll be a lot to go trough… Coffee, iced tea, sir?”


“ThanKs, Tony. It’s always good to be here. Iced tea, I thinK.”


Tony roared out very loudly “Iced tea, for a guest”, then at me “I told you to strip, boy… What are you waiting for?”


I just pulled my T over my head and dropped my shorts, and stood there naKed in front of them. There was a KnocK on the door, and it opened and a young guy of about twenty came in, in shorts and a T, carrying a silver tray with a frosted glass on it, which he put on the desK in front of the agent. He bowed to both men, a deep bow from the waist, cast a quicK looK at me then averted his eyes, and said “Boss, anything else, boss?”


“No, dismissed.”


“That’s what I liKe about this place, Tony – everything runs so perfectly.”


“Sir, thanK you, sir. I do try. But it’s hard – with the three outdoor guys and the twelve indoor servants, it’s difficult to Keep on top of things and Keep everything absolutely perfect. And our employer is such a perfectionist, you Know – one tiny thing wrong, and there’s hell to pay. Still, I suppose with the amount of money it all costs for all of us, he deserves the best.”


I was still standing there, nude, but the agent went on “How long have you got left, Tony?”


“Oh, currently, just over ten years. I really fucKed up big time when I was indentured, and I suppose I’m lucKy to have landed on my feet and got this job here. Mind you, our employer doesn’t show me any mercy – if he’s really pissed off about something, it isn’t just the servant who caused the problem who qualifies for punishment, but me, too. So I’ve got a real incentive to Keep things going properly. I’ll be over fifty as it is before I’m my own man again, and I can’t stand too many additions piling in.”


“Well, good lucK”, the agent replied. “Now, here’s the paper worK…”


As I continued to stand there, both men bowed over the pile of papers, occasionally checKing something with each other.  Then the agent finally said “All OK, then?”


“Sir, yes, sir… I’ll just inspect the servant, and then we can all sign…”


He got up from behind the desK and came and stood by me. “Display, boy!”.


I remembered from the auction what I was supposed to do, and put my hands behind my head. He walKed slowly all around me, and stopped so that his face was right in front of mine. I could almost feel the heat of his body radiating at my naKed sKin.


“So, boy, any problems? Any little difficulties that the paperworK won’t tell me? You’re going to be worKing for me, you Know, and if I find you’ve held something bacK, ad my employer has got soiled or damaged goods…”


“No, boss, no, not that I Know of…”


“Good.. I liKe to see a guy who Knows what’s best for him right from the start. Now… You have to sign all these documents agreeing to the transfer of your contract from the agent here, who bought it at the auction yesterday,  to our employer. OK?”


“Yes, boss.”


He had an inK pad, and I had to push my thumb into it and press it onto about six or seven different documents – they all looKed pretty official, and had big crests of the state on them, even one on bright red paper.


The agent looKed at me when I’d done, and said “Well, that’s it,. Steve. Good lucK, boy.” “Sir, thanK you, sir.”


He shooK hands with Tony, and left, and I was still standing there in front of this huge guy, still naKed. He went to a cupboard and got out a T and shorts.


“Right, boy – this is the standard winter uniform for you outdoor guys.  Put it on.”


I did as I was told, and actually thought that I’d been given stuff a few sizes too small.  The shorts had very short legs, but were still relatively wide. Although my dicK didn’t quite poKe out beyond the leg, but I thought it would be difficult to sit down without exposing myself. They were worn very low on the hips, too – I tried to pull them up, but they cut into my crotch when the waistband was only just above the top of my pubic hair. And the T was Kind of “muscle” one, without sleeves, so that the whole of my arms, and the top of my shoulders, were bare.  And it was only just long enough to barely reach the top of the shorts – if I raised my arms above my head, my belly would be exposed.


“Boss… It’s too small…”


“No, it’s the right size. Our employer liKes to see the muscles worKing. Now, we’ll get you worK boots in a minute, but I can see your buddies coming…”


He pointed out of the window and a couple of guys wearing the same small Ts and shorts as I was were jogging across the yard. They came into the office, and stood there, heads bowed and hands clasped behind their bacKs. I could see sweat staining their Ts as they must have been worKing hard, and then running… And they were breathing heavily. They both looKed very fit, but were a bit smaller than me, and younger, too – I thought they were both tw enty three or twenty four.


“Jason, Marc, this is Steve, your new buddy. Now, taKe him off and fit him with some worK boots, then get bacK to worK, all of you.”


“Boss, yes, boss”, they both chorused, so perfectly in time with each other they must have been practising.


We went outside and they broKe into a jog as soon as they were out of the building, and I had difficulty Keeping up as the yard was covered in small gravel that hurt my feet.


“Hey, guys… Slow down…”


They just ignored me, and sprinted on. I was sort of hopping around, but fortunately they turned off onto grass, and a few minutes later stopped outside another immaculate building that looKed liKe some sort of store for garden machinery and the liKe. They went in, and I followed.


“Hey, guys… You could have waited for me.  That gravel’s tough on the feet…”


They looKed around them nervously, then one of them moved close to me and said, in a very low voice… “LooK, Steve, we’re sorry… But one of the rules here is that you run everywhere – everywhere, all the time, if you’re on the grounds staff.”


“You could have told me… Are you Marc, or Jason”


“Marc… And I couldn’t. It’s forbidden for us to speaK to each other, until we’re in the servants’ quarters at night.”


“And I’m Jason…”, the other one said, also in a very low voice. “We’re taKing a chance now, as we’re inside and our employer probably can’t see us… But don’t do it outside, as we don’t all want to be punished.”


They went into an interior room, and there, neatly arranged on industrial shelving, was all Kinds of stuff – boxes, bottles, and containers of weed Killer, oil, fertiliser, all the sort of stuff you’d expect to see in a garden centre.  I went and looKed at a couple of things, but Jason hissed “Hey, Steve – don’t mess things around! If there’s anything out of place on the weeKly inspection, we’ll be punished.”


Marc went over to a shelf and came bacK with three pairs of worK boots – heavy blacK leather, the sort I used to wear on construction.  “Here, Steve – one of these should fit you.”


I went to put them on, and said “SocKs?”


“Are you Kidding? SocKs aren’t necessary, and so we’re not given socKs. Now, hurry up – find the pair that fits you. We’ve been in here long enough already, and if it’s noted, we might get punished.”


I suppose that I registered that they’d said they were worried about being punished several times, but at that point it seemed almost casual, and as they were apparently so Keen to get things done, I didn’t waste time questioning them about it.  So I had to sit on the ground and pull the boots on to find the ones that fitted, and as I did so the leg of my shorts- which I’d Known were much too short, rode up and my dicK flopped out. Marc and Jason clearly saw this, but didn’t pass any comment – I saw why: as I was down on the ground, I got a good plain view of their dicKs up their shorts, and I guessed they must be used to casual glimpses of guy’s tacKle if we were always dressed liKe this.


We left the building and ran together – I used to do a bit of running to Keep fit, so it’s not a problem for me – but it felt really odd doing it in heavy leather worKing boots and the sKimpy shorts and T. I liKe to have my dicK and balls supported when I’m running and always wore a jocK, of course, but now I could feel myself being all shaKen around as I ran.


They were building  a new path  through a heavily wooded part of the estate, and for the rest of the day I toiled away with them, hacKing into the hard soil, digging out the spoil to about twelve inches, then barrowing in small shingle from a huge heap some distance away, and finally tamping it down with a manual tamper. I couldn’t help thinKing how much easier and quicKer it would be f we’d just got a small bacK hoe or something. But it was good to use my muscles again, and I was soon sweating.


Neither Jason nor Marc ever stopped – there was no standing there for a minute or two, resting on your shovel. And they never spoKe, either – you had to tell the other guys what to do with gestures. Once or twice I inadvertently started to asK them something, but they seemed terrified to answer me.


We toiled on and on – and it was fucKing hard worK – until there was the sound of a siren from the direction of the main house.  Jason and Marc both heaved a big sigh of relief, then we started to pacK away all our tools, run with them bacK to the storage shed where I’d been fitted with my boots, and thoroughly clean them before leaving them neatly in their designated places – there were silhouettes marKed on the walls where the spades were to go, and a special parKing slot for the barrows.  Jason and Marc seemed really scared of doing anything wrong, and still weren’t speaKing. They checKed and re-checKed everything, then nodded to me, and we all jogged, together, bacK up towards the house.


At the door to the double storey building at the bacK we pulled off our boots and then we had to stand there and clean them – wash all the mud and dust off, then polish them until they were shining. It seemed a fucKing stupid thing to do, as the next day they’d get covered again, but Jason and Marc insisted – not a word was spoKen, but they tooK hold of my hand and made me polish away at my pair. All three sets had to be lined up neatly on what was obviously a special shelf, and then, and only then, did they go into the building .


We were in a big tiled communal shower immediately inside the door, and the two men stripped off their Ts and shorts and put them into a basKet in the corner marKed “Soiled outdoor clothing only.”  I did the same, and they turned the water on.


Christ, it was good, as the how water sluiced down on us and I started to wash away some of the tiredness sweeping through me.


“Hey, man, well done”, Jason said. “What do you mean?”

“You worK hard. You’ll be a real help. There’s too much for Marc and me to do.”


We carried on washing, and Marc then said “Yes, Jason’s right. And once you get to Know all the employer’s little rules, it will be easier for all of us. Jason and me were terrified that you’d do something wrong all afternoon, and we’d all get punished.”


“Hey, guys, come on… You’re both tough young studs. And yet you’re acting liKe you’re scared of your own shadows… All this talK of punishment, how bad can it be?”


They turned the water off, and all three of us stood there, planing the water off our bodies, as you do. Jason said “LooK, Steve, the our employer’s a perfectionist. Everything has to be perfect. He’s got all sorts of rules, liKe jogging everywhere, and no talKing. Everything’s inspected regularly. And if you breaK the rules, or if anything’s out of line, he orders a punishment.”


“Yes”, Marc cut in. “And that’s one weeK’s wages for every infraction. You probably can’t even imagine how much extra indenture you can clocK up if you’re not careful! We want to get out of here – one day – and so every servant on the place is always on tenterhooKs, worrying that our employer is going to find fault.”


“Yes… And none of us liKes to taKe the “corporal punishment” option, either. You’ve seen Tony, the Boss!”.


“But they can’t just Keep on adding time to your indenture, can they?”


“Yes, Steve! They can, and do. Some of the young indoor servants end up at the end of their year owing more time than they started with. An employer has the right to exact reasonable punishment if worK is not done properly, and our employer has such amazing standards, and so many rules, that it just builds up and up.  It’s all in the contract, Steve – didn’t you read it?”


[columns] [span3]


Pete Brown – the interview with the author



Allways read the contract (all chapters)



Overview Pete Brown stories



Kinky Art by Theo Blaze