A story written by Pete Brown. (Part 16 of 21). Click here to see all the published chapters of the story.
As I jogged back to base, I was elated. I’d actually enjoyed it with Scott as much as I had with my fellow slaves. This wasn’t like doing it for money at all – it was like doing it because I enjoyed doing it, and because I wanted to do it. And I’d got a regular client, it seemed – a regular client I wanted to be with, and someone who, in addition, gave very big tips! Fifties were unusual, as most clients were paying out of their own money and the tip didn’t go on the expense account, so they gave a ten or a twenty. But a hundred…. Well, that was worth having!
In the weeks that were to follow I got to know Scott really well. He booked me every Thursday, and he always wanted to go for a really long run first. Then as the weeks went by, I got to use his body more and more. I started him kneeling in front of me sucking my dick, then, even though he was very nervous about it and I had to give him a couple of playful slaps on his butt to remind him that I was in charge, I fucked him.
After that, there was never any doubt that I was the guy making the running when we were together, and Scott started to relax as soon as we were alone together. One night, as we lay there after I’d really given his ass a good hard pounding, he said “Steve, you know one of the great things about this is that I relax totally! When that dick of yours is thrusting in and out of me, I can’t think about anything else: all the job worries, the things going on in my life, the quarrels with the girlfriend…. it all goes away totally, as my whole brain is filled with you, the feel of you, the smell of you, the taste of you, the sight of you, the sound of you…. It’s utterly fantastic, Steve: no wonder my employer pays for it – I can’t think of any better way of giving an executive a break from work. A real break, that is, something that takes him right away from all the stresses and troubles he has.”
“Is that all you think about me, Scott – executive stress relief?”, I replied, smiling at him.
We were lying side by side, and unusually for him Scott initiated something physical – he reached over and gave me a stinging slap on my butt! “No, you idiot! Of course I don’t. I’ve never had anything like this, never ever. And you’re a really great guy…. you know that, don’t you?”
“Aw, shucks, Scott, you do say the nicest things…” I mouthed back, in a kind of hillbilly accent, as I felt embarrassed by all this. At one level, I was just doing my job, but at another, I really did like Scott, too: there was absolutely no bullshit about him. He did what he wanted, and said what he wanted. I didn’t doubt that he was a good, hardworking executive who would make decisions, even unpopular decisions, and stick by them sand implement them. But when he was relaxing, he wasn’t afraid to admit that he wanted someone else to take charge, which is something only a very few men will do.
My best time of all with Scott was when the weather really closed in one Thursday night. We couldn’t go for our run because of the blizzard (in fact, I had had a real difficult in getting to the Towers at all), and so we’d had to make do with a workout in the hotel’s minuscule gym. When I’d fucked him and we’d lay and chatted a bit, it was time for me to go as normal, as Scott had an early flight the next morning, but the snow was still driving against the window outside. He turned on the TV and they were saying that the airports were all closed and unlikely to reopen the next day, either. Scott swore when he heard this as he needed to get back home, but then, as I was pulling on my shorts and preparing to leave, he told me to get naked again and come back to bed as he clearly wasn’t going anywhere!
I’d never spent the whole night with a client before, and it did feel odd to be preparing to sleep with this guy in the luxurious hotel room. I mean, I knew him pretty well by now, but there’s a difference between an evening’s fun, and spending the whole night together – somehow, that’s a lot more serious. Instead of lying there messing about with each other, we were preparing to go to sleep, and there was a whole lot of that stuff about which side of the bed, which side to lie on, and so on. I wasn’t sure if we would just lie there separately, or if Scott would want me to hold him throughout the night, but he fixed that by pushing himself against me, and I realised that he wanted me to spoon up against him, and put my arm over his body.
It’s great to sleep with a guy you like, isn’t it? I woke at about two, feeling my dick erect and nudging at Scott’s ass, and I ran my hand down over his firm belly and though his pubic hair and found he was erect, too. Although he was breathing heavily and deeply, I didn’t think he was asleep, so I gently nibbled his earlobe, and felt his dick start to twitch in my hand. Instead of our vigorous, athletic fucking that we normally had, with the lights on so we could see each other, I started to enter him ever so slowly and gently as we still lay there on our sides – it’ not easy, I know, but the feel of your dick going in so slowly as you’re both lying there, saying nothing, the sheets and blankets still over you, the room all still and dark, is just something else. And then when I was in as far as I could, I really didn’t fuck, just moved my body slowly and languidly occasionally to keep my dick hard, and to let Scott know I was still inside him.
The next morning he woke me, as I’d slept so soundly – he kissed me awake, and it was so odd to feel Scott’s stubble on my face. Once he saw me starting to open my eyes, his head went down the bed and he had my morning hard-on in his mouth, and I moaned with pleasure as he brought me to a climax.
Slaves weren’t allowed in the dining room of the hotel, so Scott ordered room service breakfast. Although he went through the menu with me and tried to tempt me with all kinds of things, I knew I’d better stick to slave chow – all my colleagues told me that you did need to avoid accepting meals from clients as the sudden change from the bland slave chow to “proper” food could lead to a lot of stomach upsets, and I didn’t want that.
Scott made me get out of bed and open the door to the waiter as he didn’t want to expose himself to the hotel staff – it was OK for me, as I was only a slave, as he pointed out. But then I got back into bed and we half lay, half sat there together eating. Scott still tried to tempt me, holding out pieces of the mango, papaya, pawpaw and other exotic fruit salad in his fingers and even wiping it over my lips to try to get me to take it, then doing the same with the blinis, smoked salmon, cream and caviar. But I knew I had to resist, however much he tempted me, and we were laughing and joking all the time. He got me finally, though – he broke the yokes of his eggs into a big pool on the plate, then, almost helpless with laughter, bent over the plate and smeared his erect dick into them! I couldn’t then refuse, could I, when he told me to suck him? I tell you, the yolks of those eggs were the most delicious I’ve ever tasted: I don’t know whether it was because they were some fancy kind, or because it was so long since I’d had an egg, or whether it was the fact that they were deliciously warm, kept so by Scott’s dick! And he made me have some of the delicious brioche and home made raspberry jelly, too – be bit a large piece, then put his face right into mine and started to kiss me: as soon as I opened my lips, his tongue started to force the wonderfully buttery pastry and sweet, tart jelly into my mouth!
After that, with the breakfast things still around us and with Scott’s egg-covered cock making a huge mess on the sheets, I rolled him on to his back, used the butter from the breakfast tray to quickly lube his ass, smeared some of the cream from the blinis on my dick as additional lubrication, then fucked him hard as pay back for making me eat like that. Afterwards, we were both almost helpless with exhaustion and laughter.
There’s a limit to how long you can stay in bed together though, isn’t there? By about ten, with no prospect of the airport reopening and with all his phone calls finished, Scott was very restless. I think he’d enjoyed trying to talk to his colleagues back at his home office as we lay together naked and I kept teasing his dick and nuzzling his shoulders and pushing my tongue into this other ear – the harder he tried to push me away, the more I did it, and we were just like two stupid adolescents playing, I suppose. I could sense he was so bored, and although we fucked again, there is a limit, after all! With no prospect of running through the snow-packed streets, and with only the prospect of the tiny, cramped gym, what on earth were we going to do?
Scott went in to take a crap – it was still one thing he was shy about: in spite of all the times we’d been naked together and even pissed together: he always shut the bathroom door when he went to crap, something I’ve noticed that a lot of guys do. I picked up the phone, dialled base, and spoke to Master Brett who agreed to my suggestion as a way of keeping a very good client happy. When Scott came out I’d dressed myself in his running shorts and vest, and told him to put on my shorts and tiny top. He didn’t seem to want to wear my clothes – that’s another funny inhibition I’ve noticed a lot of guys have – you can stick your dick up their ass, but if you then tell them to pull on your used boxers, they don’t really like it! But I insisted, slapping his butt to make him do it, and as we stood there, apart from the edges of my tattoos that you could see, it was difficult to know who was free man and who was slave. I noticed Scott getting an erection as he looked at himself in the mirror, futilely tugging at the tiny top and minuscule shorts as if to try to cover himself better. I pulled on a pair of Scott’s pants and a pullover, and made him wear my sweat pants and top, then we caught the elevator down to the lobby.
It was an exciting experience for Scott to make his way across that lobby, with his sweat top proclaiming “Slaves For Your Pleasure, Inc.” – several of the guys standing around talking about the prospects of getting away were probably our clients, and I knew Scott felt that they were probably sizing him up, and wondering why they hadn’t seen this new boy on our web site! I put my arm around his shoulder as they watched, and let my other hand casually roam down to his crotch – the men all grinned, and I smiled to myself, as this whole experience was making Scott rock hard!
It was a real effort to get the couple of blocks to our base, and we had to huddle together as best we could to keep the driving snow out of our faces as we picked our way across the drifts almost blocking the sidewalk. It was a novel experience for Scott to have to walk up the stairs as we were not allowed to use the elevators in the building, and he was almost out of breath when we emerged into our reception area. The receptionist greeted me cheerily, and I led Scott down the corridor and through into the slaves’ area.
He’d been very puzzled as we’d gone along, but once we were in our superb gym, he understood what I’d arranged. Some of the guys were trapped out with their clients, or huddling in the hotel lobbies a bit further away than the Towers once they’ been thrown out of their clients’ rooms, but there were ten at base, who were mostly exercising as it was mid morning. As he stood there looking at their bodies as they worked away, I moved closer to him, and pulled the sweat shirt up over his head, followed by the tiny top we wore. “Come on, Scott – off with those sweat pants – time for a real workout!”, I said, and slowly and carefully he pushed them down, over his trainers. He then realised his situation: like all the other guys in the room he just had on the tiny, tight shorts, and although he had a good body and nothing to be really ashamed of, he just wasn’t used to being so “exposed” in front of a load of virile, fit, good looking men. The only thing that distinguished him from the slaves now was the lack of the tattoos on his chest and back. I saw him trying to tug the waistband of the shorts in a futile attempt to pull it higher and stop his pubes curling out. I stripped off, too, so that I was just wearing his running shorts, then put my arm around his naked shoulders.
“You wanted a workout, Scott – this is the best equipped gym around here, and the best looking guys you’re ever going to see in any gym to look at whilst you’re doing it…. Come on…”
Although I set the exercise machines quite low, Scott really had to work at it as they were proper professional equipment, designed for slaves who needed to maintain superb physiques: I could see him looking all the time at the bodies of the other men as we worked away, and he knew that, compared to them, he was somehow “inadequate” in spite of having a big job, lots of money, and being free. Then, at the end, when he looked pretty exhausted, I took him to the communal shower. He didn’t seem to mind this as he was used to showering in a private gym, but when one of the guys came in and just sat on one of the lavatories to crap, I thought he might freak out!
There was nothing for him to wear after the workout, of course, as the only clothes available were fresh shorts and a fresh top, and I led him into the “common room” area and sat him next to me, with Ray squeezed close on the other side, to have a bowl of slave chow. I don’t know whether it was being so close to so many guys, or having the “slave experience”, or feeling the almost naked skin of Ray and me pressing into him as he ate, but when I put my hand down to his crotch, he was still hard!
When we’d eaten I took him into the dorm and pulled his clothes off, and pushed him into one of the narrow beds, then got in with him. We started to make out, kissing and stroking at each other, but suddenly his whole body stiffened and he stopped. Three other guys had come in for a nap in the afternoon, in case they were working that evening, and were in beds close to ours.
“What’s the matter?” I whispered to him, pressing my lips close to his ear.
“Steve, there are other guys here…. I can’t have sex…. They’ll hear…. I’d best get up, and go….”
“No, come on… I want to fuck you. And you want my dick, don’t you….”
“No, Steve… It’s embarrassing….”
“You’re like a lot of guys, Scott – you say no, when you mean yes!” As I said this, I threw the sheet off us, and flicked Scott over on to his belly. I put my arm under him to pull his ass into the air, then started to fuck him. He was unbelievably tense at first, especially as one or two of the guys shouted “go on, Steve…”, so he knew we were being watched. But as my dick started to work his magic, and as I deliberately fucked him as hard as I could, he soon lost his inhibitions and was shouting “Oh yes…. Yes… Fuck me, Steve…. Yes…..” almost at the top of his voice. When I’d cum and pulled our sweaty bodies close together, I don’t think he any longer cared about the other guys seeing our naked bodies, as he’d had such a totally different experience – it takes a lot to have sex when you know others are watching, but I think there’s a bit of an exhibitionist in all of us, and once you’re over the initial hurdle, its actually pretty exciting.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, as there was no real way of repeating this experience of being almost like a slave for the first time, by that evening the storm had passed and the gangs of street cleaning slaves were starting to make progress on clearing the sidewalks. When we went back into the Towers, Scott was at first told not to use the elevators by the concierge, until he suddenly recognised Scott, in spite of his “uniform”. I think Scott quite liked this, as it implied that his body, displayed in the shorts and tiny top, was as good as a slave’s. But he nevertheless told the concierge to mind his manners if he didn’t want to be out of a job.
I was looking forward to a great evening of fucking, but when we were back in his suite, the message light was son on the phone, and Scott called his PA who told him that there was a flight booked for him that evening, in a couple of hours.
Scott’s whole mood changed at once. He shed the happy “slave buddy” thing instantly, went and showered without letting me join him for a bit of fun, then, as I sat watching, dressed in his suit, silk tie, and all the other stuff of the corporate executive. Packing his bag took no time, then he stood there looking at me, put out his hand to pull me gently up off the edge of the bed, then kissed me, deeply – It felt so strange to have his suit against my nearly naked skin and it sort of put me back in my proper place – all that day I’d been in charge, showing Scott things he’d never really thought about. But now he was the boss again, back in control, and I was the slave once more. “Thanks, Steve, for a really great time….”, he said. “See you next week.”
You read a lot of porn stories I know about rent boys and stuff, and they make out they have a pretty miserable life. I’m sure they do, those who hang around on street corners, waiting for a pickup that might not come. But at the top end of the market, as I was, life wasn’t all that bad; and I knew that there were a hell of a lot of slaves who were doing jobs far worse than mine! Look, I was housed properly, not in some dreadful slave barn, there was always enough slave chow and I was never hungry, I had the best medical attention available if I needed it, and I mostly spent my time with other nice guys doing something I enjoyed – working out. Sure, I had to “perform”, have sex with a lot of men that I wouldn’t normally have chosen – for every Scott, there were at least ten guys I wouldn’t have touched if I’d been free: fat or flabby, old, boring…. But it’s no big deal, is it, really? I mean, once its hard, one dick is very much like another, and I really don’t understand why some men make all that fuss about taking dick: it’s only a few minutes, after all. Sure, I didn’t like having to fuck most of the fat asses that were there in front of me, all vile white, with a lot of straggly hair around the hole, but again, it doesn’t take long, you can always think of something else, and you still get to cum! Best of all, though, was the total freedom from worry and stress – all I had to do was obey orders, and everything was taken care of – no bills, no promotional struggles or office politics, no attempts to chase women… Life in some ways was much easier.
Because of the way we operated with the medical tests, I anyway only got a client at most once every two days, and the rest of the time I could fuck really great guys, who all had an interest in fucking. On the whole, I had to say that I was rather enjoying it. Then I got the client form hell!
It was a “walk-in”, the receptionist said. No prior booking and no trip out to a major hotel. The guy had just walked in off the street and paid the fee, and so I should hurry along to the client room “C” where he was waiting. I guess I’d become a bit blasé about it all by now, as I’d found that only very few of the guys who booked me actually wanted to fuck me: they wanted to explore my body, they wanted a bit of dick action, and sometimes they wanted to be fucked, but that’s all. Still, I was confident that I could manage anything that came up: I was Steve, I knew what I was doing, I was in charge!
Well, pride comes before a fall, as the old proverb goes, as when I opened the door to the room there was my old buddy Rob, the guy who’d helped me through the enslavement those months ago.
“Rob… Hey, man, great to see you… What are you doing here?”
“Oh come on, Steve, what do you think?”
“Is there news – have they said there will be a retrial or something? You know my conviction was false…”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m here for sex, of course.”
I was stunned, and thought immediately that there must be some mistake. To tell you the truth, I thought it must be dreadfully embarrassing for Rob to have had me see that he was coming to pay for sex. “Oh, yes… I guess you could do that…. So which guy have you booked, Rob…. I’ll go and find him…. That idiot receptionist has put you in the wrong room….”
“No, Steve, I booked you!”
“You’re not serious! We’re buddies. We went to school together, to college together…. ”
“Yes, Steve. And all that time I looked at you, watched you as we changed for sport, occasionally saw a glimpse of your dick in the men’s room at a bar or something…. Then I’d see you at parties, with those girls with their hands all over you…. And when we went to the beach, and you always likes to wear Speedos: you said it was because you liked to swim fast, but I think it was because you wanted guys like me to look at you, Steve….”
“Hey, Rob, cool it! You know me – I was straight, I didn’t want guys. And so are you – you’re engaged…”
“Yes, Steve, but I always wanted you, always wanted to be able to run my hands over that body of yours, wanted to have you kiss me, just like I saw those girls at the parties doing… .so now I’m going to.”
“You can’t afford this place, Rob – do you know how much they charge for us….”
“Of course I do! I’ve paid, remember? But I’ve just inherited a chunk of money from an uncle I hardly knew, so I can afford it. And I’ve decided to fulfil all those longings, Steve – I’m going to have what I desired – your body.”
“Rob, please, don’t… It’s not right…. We were buddies…. You can’t do things like that to your buddies….”
“You’re right, Steve. You always were right… It was always Steve who did things properly, had the best girls, won the races, was captain of the team, was the guy that everyone wanted to sit next to at the bar…. You’re right, Steve, I couldn’t do the things I’m going to do to a buddy, a friend. But you know what they say, that classic new proverb, ‘You can’t be friends with a slave’. And that’s what you are now, Steve, a slave. And I can do things like that to a slave, especially to a pleasure slave…. Now, strip!”
“No, Rob, please….”
“Hey, slave – some respect here! I don’t allow slaves to disrespect me… I thought they had some quality control in this place…. Wait until I complain afterwards….”
“Sir, please, Rob, sir, don’t do this…. I’m sure they’ll refund your money….”
“Fucking slave, get naked! I want to see your body properly, after all those years of just catching a casual sneak look. Drop those fucking shorts, get that top off – it’s not a is if they’re covering much anyway, but I want to see it all, Steve….”
Well, what was I to do? If he did complain, Master Jed would punish me. And, I thought, he had after all seen me naked before at the sports club and school and such, so what was the real problem? So I dropped the shorts, then pulled the top up over my head – that’s the way we do it: so many “amateurs” take the top of first; but if you drop your shorts and then pull the top off, the act of stretching your body as the top goes over your head pulls your dick up and displays it better, and your face is covered for a second or two, which gives the client time to look at you without you seeing them doing so, and it builds their confidence.
Rob was sitting there on the edge of the bed, licking his lips. “Hey, Steve… Fantastic! The life as a slave suits you, old buddy – you’re in much better shape than when I last saw you. Now, come here…..”
It was somehow utterly humiliating. Look, I’ve striped in front of lots and lots of guys, and it doesn’t bother me – after all, I’ve got a great body and nothing to be ashamed of. And a lot of them have done what Rob did next – reach out with his hand and take my dick, letting it lie there in his hot, sweaty palm. It’s no big deal, really, to have another guy hold your dick, is it? But this wasn’t another guy – this was Rob, my old buddy, who I’d been to school with, to college with, we’d drunk together, partied together…. And now, here he was, feeling my dick as I was naked and he sat there in his smart clothes!
I felt myself blushing, as Rob stated to stroke my dick and the inevitable happened – it went hard. “Fantastic, Steve! I always wondered what yours would look like when it threw a wood”, he murmured.
It got worse after that, as, still dressed, with me naked, he started to run his hands all over my body, tweaking my nips, cupping my balls in his hand, playing with my pubic hair, and generally exploring me in a way that a friend should not. Finally he stood facing me and pushed his face towards mine, his hand went up behind my head and he pulled me towards him.
“Open your mouth, Steve, I’ve always wanted to kiss you…”
“Don’t be so disgusting, please, Rob, sir……”
“Fucking open your mouth, slave!”, he snapped, and I didn’t know what to do. Of course I could overpower him. I could stop him physically whenever I chose. But what then? Punishment? So I let him kiss me, feeling his disgusting tongue pushing deep into me. Through his clothes I could also feel his erection as the fabric scratched all over my bare skin. The only consolation – and it was a slight one – was that I could taste whiskey on Rob’s breath, so perhaps he had drunk too much and didn’t really know what he was doing.
He pulled away from me, and as I watched, started to remove his clothes. When we were at college Rob hadn’t been in bad shape – we’d been on the football team together. But since then although I’d kept up working out and running, and since I had come here I’d been working especially hard, Rob had let himself go. He’d lost muscle tone, and there was the start of a roll of fat around his waist and belly.
He wanted to kiss some more then, pulling our naked bodies together and his dick stabbing hard at me. I tried, honestly I did, and with clients I usually don’t have a problem – even when the guy’s pretty fat and disgusting, I can usually manage to get and stay hard; but with Rob it just wouldn’t work – try as I might, however hard I tried to imagine sexy things happening to me, my dick just drooped there.
Then I heard the words I knew would come: “Right, Steve: On your knees, boy, and service my dick.”
They train you to always look up and keep your eyes on the guy you’re sucking in case he’s looking down, as a lot of men like to feel they’re more dominating that way. So I had to stare up at Rob’s smile of triumph as I kissed, licked and sucked his dick. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to shower or anything either, as his dick tasted of dried piss and there was a rank, rancid smell as he forced my head into his pubes so that I could lick his balls. And all the time he was moaning and groaning as if he was in ecstasy, and I could hear “Yes, Steve, yes… Oh fucking hell, Steve, yes….”
With any luck I thought he might cum, and then the whole thing would soon be over. But after a couple of minutes he pushed my head away, slapped my face a couple of times with his dick, then said “And now, Steve, that ass of yours. You can’t believe how many times I’ve watched it as you changed, or when you wore those sexy tight Jeans of yours… Now I’m going to find out what it’s like to fuck you, Steve.”
“Please, Rob…. Look, we were friends…. It’s not right…..”
“And I’ve told you to be respectful, slave! Now get on that bed, belly down, feet on the floor, and spread your legs.”
This is my least favourite position, actually – when the guy is standing there at your ass, he’s got a lot of power to thrust with if he wants. At least if you’re kneeling on your elbows and knees and he’s kneeling behind you there’s not the full power of his butt and thighs available. And Rob simply went at me as if he had no time to spare – it’s lucky we always went to a session with a client ready lubed, as the moment I was in position I could feel his body behind mine, then his dick as he pressed my ass apart and positioned himself, and the next instant he simply thrust very hard and buried himself inside me. I let out a yell, even though that’s rather unprofessional – it frightens some clients. But it seemed to excite Rob, as he thrust in and out as fast as he could, long, deep strokes, with no rest. I could hear him panting and gasping.
It was really unpleasant. He was just using me, with no concern at all for whether I was OK or not. I had to push my face down into the bed to stop my gasps of pain from being audible, as I didn’t want the bastard to have the satisfaction of knowing that this was hurting me.
As soon as he’d cum, he didn’t even rest lying on me, as a lot of guys do – he pulled out very quickly, then told me to roll over onto my back. The next moment he was sitting astride my chest, his knees pushing my shoulders into the bed, and his dick, slimed with his cum and my ass juices, hovering over my mouth. “They say slaves clean you up properly, Steve, so get to work!”, he commanded.
It’s no big deal, actually: we always flush ourselves out thoroughly before a client so there’s no shit on the dick, only cum and sweat and stuff, but nevertheless it’s not all that nice I think: when you’ve just had sex, you ought to be lying there thinking about it and enjoying those special post-coital moments, not having a dirty dick rammed into your mouth! And then the bastard pissed on me – I had been taught to drink piss, and even though I don’t much like it, I would always take it from a client. But Rob gave me no warning, and just started to piss in my mouth as I was almost finished cleaning him off.
It wasn’t my fault the bed got soaked then – I was swallowing it away, when he pulled right out of my mouth so he could kneel there, holding his dick, and moving it around so that he could spray his piss all over my face and neck. When he was finished, he just knelt there for a few moments, breathing hard, and looking down at me with a look that was kind of triumphant. “I’ve always wanted to have you like this, Steve…. Your head between my thighs, and my dick pissing on your face….”
“Rob, why…. We were good buddies…..”
“You were always so fucking superior, Steve. You always did better in class, captain of the team, got the girls first….. It was all so effortless for you, and you never noticed that some of us really had to work at it, and still didn’t do as well….”
I just lay there. There was no point in telling him that I had to work, too, but that unlike him, I didn’t give up when the going got tough. It hadn’t been easy for me – I’d always made huge efforts. And now the bastard thought that in some way he was better than me!
He never said another word as he got dressed, then turned to leave. No tip, of course. And the next morning I was deep in the shit: not only was Master Brett furious about the piss-soaked bed, but the bastard had given me a five, marking the evaluation form “Sullen and uncooperative.”
It seems that we’d been running along neck and neck with our biggest rival, as we both published our client satisfaction numbers on the web site. It was the end of the month, and this five pushed our monthly average just below theirs, allowing them to claim “the most satisfied clients in the city”. I stood there as Master Brett raged on at me, and Master Jed came in and suggested that he should take me down to City Hall and hand me over to the public whipper, as I deserved a proper bull whipping, which owners were not allowed to administer themselves as the punishment was judged to be so severe.
“No, Jed”, Master Brett told him. “After that, he’d be useless – their backs and butts never properly recover from a public bull whipping. It’s OK for workers to have a permanently scarred back, but our clients wouldn’t like it. We ought to punish him, and punish him hard, to send a clear message to all the studs here that being ‘sullen and uncooperative’ won’t be tolerated. But a whipping like that would destroy his value.”
“We can’t let the young fucker get away with it, Brett. I’ve always thought he’s too superior, and he needs to learn….”
“Please, sirs, it wasn’t my fault.. The client….”
“Shut the fuck up!”, Master Jed screamed. “That’s the problem, with you, slave! You think you know it all. You say it’s not your fault… So exactly whose fault is it if the client didn’t get a good experience? Of course it’s your fault. You arrogant fucker – you even dare to interrupt and speak when you’ve not been asked a question…..”
“Jed, calm down. We’re going to punish him, and in a way that will take some of that arrogance away from him.” Master Brett turned to me and said “Go into the exercise room and stand in a corner, facing the wall, until I have made the arrangements for your punishment and call for you: I want all your fellow slaves to see what happens to slaves who don’t perform properly here.”
Pete Brown – the interview with the author
Pleasure Slave (all chapters)
Overview Pete Brown stories
Kinky Art by Theo Blaze