A story written by Pete Brown. (Part 21 of 21). Click here to see all the published chapters of the story.


It was really tough getting through to Scott.  He seemed to have a small army of secretaries and personal assistants, and they wouldn’t put the call through.  In the end they agreed to let him see an e-mail, so the next Saturday when we were in town I sent him a brief note from a borrowed terminal, just saying that “his friend from The Towers” needed to speak to him, giving Hank’s mobile number, and just signing it “Steve”.

On Monday morning Hank’s cell phone went off, and Hank at first couldn’t understand who it was, until he heard at last the name “Scott”.  He handed the phone to me, and Scott sounded so eager.  “I still go to ‘Slaves For Your Pleasure’, Steve, but it’s not the same.  I was really pissed off when I heard they’d sold you – if they’d have mentioned it, I would have bid on you!  Still, what can I do for you, old buddy? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

I gave him a very quick run-down of Hank’s ranch, and explained we needed some business advice.  “It sounds like the kind of place I’d like to visit”, Scott told me.  “Put me on to Hank.”

I handed the phone back to Hank, and I heard him making lots of excuses…. “Very small…”, “no space….”, “only one bed….”, “miles from anywhere….”, “don’t want to cause you any trouble….”, and so on and so on.  I was really worried that he’d fuck it up, and desperately wanted tot snatch the phone away from him!  But Scott prevailed ,and when Hank flipped the phone shut he told me that Hank planned to fly to the local airport for the weekend, and that we’d need to meet him.

For the rest of the week Hank was really worried – he made me scrub the cabin from top to bottom, wash the sheets on his bed, as he thought Scott had better have that and he’d sleep on the couch, pushing me out on to the floor. And on Thursday we had to make a special trip into town to buy groceries, although I saw Hank wincing as he had to pay money out, money I knew he desperately could ill afford.  Friday night saw us a t the local tiny airport, waiting for Scott’s commuter plane, and even then Hank was worried.  “Look, Steve, this is a big corporate executive.  He’s going to hate the ranch, he’s not used to things like that.  I don’t think some old, staid business man is going to like sleeping on my hard bed, with no privacy – where’s he going to shower?  He’s not going to want to use that old bath in front of the fire….”

“Boss, don’t worry!  Scott’s a really nice guy – he’s the only client I ever had who treated me like another man, rather than as some cheap piece of slave shit! If there’s a problem, I’m sure he’ll tell you about it rationally, and see how it can be solved.  And one thing for sure – he’s certainly not body shy, so stop worrying about the bath….”

Just at that minute the tiny plane landed, and a very few minutes later, there was Scott.  He bounded up to me, and actually shook my hand!  “Steve, you’re looking really great… Life as a ranch hand slave is really suiting you…”

“Master Scott, this is Master Hank….”, I said, introducing them.

“Hey, Hank, good to meet you.  You don’t make Steve do all this ‘master’ crap do you? It’s so nineteenth century – especially when you’re fucking a slave, I always think you ought just to call him by his name, and he should just call you sir, or boss…”

A respectable matron passing heard this, and looked almost fit to burst as she heard Scott talking in such forthright terms, but he didn’t care.  “Hell no, Scott – he’s just Steve to me, and he calls me boss.  But where’s your luggage – I’ll tell Steve to get your cases…”

“No need – this is all I have”.  Scott showed a very small weekend bag in his hand. “I guess that up in the high country it’s pretty relaxed, so I’ve only got a pair of jeans and a T….  Oh, and this…”  He handed Hank a big bottle of Jack Daniels, and went on “But I don’t suppose we’ll get through much of it, as I hope you’re going to let me have sex with Steve, and I don’t want to be drunk…”

He laughed as he said this, and it kind of broke the ice. Hank realised that this was no stuffy businessman, but a genuine guy, who might even like the same kind of things that he did.

Illustration by Theo Blaze

I was squashed into the middle of the two men as we drove back to the ranch, very uncomfortable on the box thing between the two front seats, but Hank had said it was too cold for me to ride in the open bit at the back as slaves usually did in these circumstances. Scott didn’t mind – he soon had his arm around my shoulders, and a hand placed on my crotch:  I had an erection, as you’d imagine, and Scott fondled it and messed with it as Hank drove along the torturous curves back home.

Scott looked around with a single glance as we went into the cabin, and said “This sure is snug!  It must be fun to live here with Steve around – never out of your sight:  I’m surprised you’re not permanently horny!”

“Yes, he is a good fuck”, Hank replied, relaxing a lot now, “But I limit myself to last thing at night.  A man needs a good fuck before he goes to sleep.  And I don’t want to wear Steve out – he has a lot to do around the place.”

“Quite so.  And it’s obviously good for him – he looks in even better condition than when I used to hire him.  Can I take a closer look?”

“Sure – you’re my guest.  Use the place just as if it were your own…”

“Steve, come and stand in front of me, and let me take a good look at you”, Scott said easily.  “Get those clothes off, so I can really appreciate you again…”

I saw a look approaching shock in Hank’s eyes, as he wasn’t used to the very frank ways in which men like Scott treated slaves. I felt  faintly embarrassed, too, as it was a long time since I’d had to appear naked in front of clothed men, but, what the hell – they’d both seen me like that often enough!  So I dropped my jeans, and unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall to the ground.

Hank made a sort of “come here” gesture with his open hand, and I shuffled forward so he could cup my balls in his palm, and rub his thumb up and down my dick. “Yes, just as I remember!”, he said to Hank.  “And I’m glad you keep him shaved down there – I know it’s becoming fashionable to treat slaves so much like men that they’re allowed to have hairy sacs, but I think you can go too far – it’s one thing to be nice to a slave, treat him like a buddy, almost, but quite another to let him have hairy balls and a hairy crack:  there are limits, aren’t there?”

It wasn’t cold in the cabin, so as no one said anything, I loped around the place for the rest of the evening naked.  Hank cooked his smoked pork belly and beans, both men drank a couple of glasses of Jack Daniels (and allowed me a small one), and talked business generally.  When they’d eaten, I could see Hank getting worried, as it was getting late and he didn’t like to mention the subject of beds.  But finally, he had to.

“Er, look, Scott, you can take the bed… And I’ll take the couch.”

“No, Hank – you’ve probably got to work tomorrow, you need your sleep…”

“No, you’re the guest.”

“Well, that’s very generous of you – I was wondering how I was going to get Steve wrapped around me on that couch – he is included in the deal, isn’t he?”

Hank really did look startled now.  “Well, he doesn’t usually sleep with me – I just fuck him, and he sleeps on the couch…”

“Oh, I see.  Well, Hank, I like him to fuck me! And I was looking forward to him doing it several times during the night – it wont disturb you, will it?”

Hank was looking really odd now!   He was a liberal, who understood that men had sex with slaves, but to him, that always meant that he was on top.  He seemed genuinely shocked that Scott might take it from a slave.   Scott picked up on this straight away, and said quietly “Sorry, Hank – but that’s the way I like it.  I’m always in charge during the day, and when I’m in bed, I like to relax and have someone else make the running.  There aren’t too many guys I meet socially who can do that, so I just hire slaves, bit tough bucks like Steve, who know what it’s about…”

I guess it must have been the whiskey, as Hank usually only drank a couple of beers.  Because he looked long and hard at Scott, and then said “Well get your clothes off then, and let’s see if you can take it from a real man, not just a slave, who probably pulls his punches… Even Steve, who’s pretty free thinking, holds back a bit in case he might be punished…”

To my amazement, Scott just did as he was told, and Hank stood next to him, tweaking his nips, then feeling his balls and dick, just as if Scott were a slave.  “You’ll do!”, he told Scott. “You look after yourself – now let’s see if that ass of yours is as good as the rest of you.”

He led Scott to the bed, just as he usually led me, in control, and pushed him down.

“Please”, I heard Scott say, “I haven’t had it since last week… I’m tight…. Can I lube up first?”

“Hell, I don’t have any of that kind of fancy stuff. I just use spit on Steve….”

“Well, you know Hank, there is something else…..” Scott sat up, pulled Hank down next to him and whispered something, that made them both laugh.  They lay back on the bed together, then Hank called me over.  “Right, Steve – we’re in need of a little lubrication – get jerking off:  that’s all the use your dick is going to get tonight, I think…”

At first I thought I hadn’t heard properly, but seeing the look on both men’s faces, I had to stand there and start to jerk myself off.  It’s really hard standing up, isn’t it?  Your legs ache, and you want to be lying down.  And it’s especially hard when you’re being watched, too!  Still, I did manage to shoot a credible load, and caught it in the palm of my hand.

Hank sat and watched as I had to stretch and lube Scott – I think it made Hank feel good, to see this other guy being prepared for him by a slave!  And then Scott really fucked him hard – it didn’t matter how much Scott cried out, or how hard he slapped the bed with his hands, Hank just carried on, pounding away with all the considerable force that his strong worker’s body was capable of.

Afterwards, as they lay together, Hank had me clean his dick and Scott’s ass from his shit, and they both agreed that having a slave around really made for easy sex.   “So you always take it, do you?”, Hank asked.

“Yes, generally.  As I said, it’s relaxing, not to be in charge.”

“So, Scott, if I ordered you to do something, you’d like that?”

“Sure, Hank.  You’re a pretty forceful guy.  Being ordered around by you is kind of fun.”

“OK, Scott.  I want you to fuck Steve.  You’re the only one who hasn’t cum tonight, and Steve’s ass always needs a dick in it, to keep him in his place…”

“Oh, I couldn’t – he’s too big and tough, and I’m to used to taking his dick….”

There was a resounding slap, as Hank flipped Scott over on to his belly, and spanked his butt with that strong arm and hand with which I had become so familiar.  I was expecting Scott to be furious, but quite the opposite:  he said “Sorry, sir”, to Hank, then ordered me onto my hands and knees.

Scott had never fucked me before, but he knew how to do it, of course, and made quite a credible attempt at it.  Hank cheered him on as he pounded away at me, then afterwards pulled him close to him, and kissed him.  “Good boy!”, he said in that same tone that he sometimes used to congratulate me on doing something. “Now, are you ready to take my dick again?  All this excitement has made it hard to sleep…”

I forget exactly the sequence after that, but I did fuck Scott that night, and Hank fucked me, and somehow none of us slept on the couch – they allowed me to stay in the bed with them so that we were a nice tangle of strong, manly limbs and bodies when we woke the next morning.

That Saturday set out looking as if it was going to be one of the best I’ve ever spent.  We all rode out to inspect the ranch, we had bread and cheese for lunch by the side of a stream high in the hills, then rode home.  Whilst I was doing the general chores around the place, Hank and Scott sat down to talk.  By dinner time, Hank was looking a lot less worried than he had been, but there still seemed to be a problem.   It was Scott who finally explained, and the day began to crash.

“You see, Steve”, he said.  “I’ve had this idea.  A dude ranch.  A real dude ranch, with no frills.  Men could come here to see the real life of a working ranch.  No fancy showers, no special treatment – just a communal bunk house, basic food, and, just like in olden times, they’d all expect to get fucked by the gang boss or ranch owner – I think Hank’s well up to that.  But he needs money to get it started – to build the bunk house, advertise, that sort of thing – although once it gets known, I think you’ll be booked solid.  I’ve offered to lend it to him to get him started, but he’s too proud, or should I say too stupid, to accept!  So, Steve, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to do something about you…”

I looked across at Hank, and said “No, boss, please don’t sell me… Or, if you must, can you sell me to Master Scott?”

Scott cut in “Shut up, Steve.  It’s all been decided. Hank isn’t going to sell you – he needs you here to help run the place, and to fuck the guests, or to be fucked, of course.  But there’s another way – you’re indentured for ten years, I think you told me?”


“Good!  Then the plan will work.   Under the new Repression Of Recidivist Slave Activity law, it was recognised that a slave becoming free after ten years or more of a sentence couldn’t re-adjust to society – even with the ‘slave bounty’ in your savings account, slaves like you couldn’t make a fresh start.  So an owner can apply to the Courts for a permanent slavery order.  Actually, it’s all bullshit – the Federal Reserve was so alarmed about the skewing of the economy caused by stupid slave prices that it got the Government to do something to make more slaves, and this act was passed in double quick time.  So on Monday Hank will apply to have you enslaved for life.”

“No, please… I could make it as a free man, I’m sure…”

“Sorry, Steve, but you’re a slave now, and you ought to be thinking about serving your owner properly. Hank has to do this, to get out of the difficulties he’s in – you wouldn’t want to see him lose this place, would you?”

“No, Scott, but I don’t want to be a slave for life…”

“Well you actually don’t have any choice!  The Courts will always grant the order, and Hank will apply. Then, when you’re a permanent slave, you have no need of that Indentured Servant’s Savings Account – all your property automatically passes to your owner.  The money in there will just be enough for Hank to buy materials to build the bunk house – you can do the work, and meanwhile, I’ll put the word around a number of buddies of mine about what a great place this is, and within a few months there’ll be a nice steady income for Hank.”

“But I’ll never be free… I’ll be a permanent slave. I was looking forward to being free, when I’m still only thirty eight.

Scott looked at Hank, and said quietly “See, I told you.  We both agree Steve’s a nice guy, and a really good slave.  But like all slaves, he’s never really prepared to go those last nine yards for the good of his owner.”

“Steve”, Hank looked at me across the table, “Can’t you see it’s in everyone’s best interests?”

“Not in mine!”, I snapped , perhaps rather abruptly.

“Hank, don’t demean yourself with pleading or arguing with a slave”, Scott said.  “Steve’s a good slave, as we both agree, and with a bit of firm discipline he’ll soon get over it.  You just need to go on as normal, expecting him to give you all the hard work and loyalty that he owes you as a slave.”

And that was that!  They both enjoyed Sunday, but I was pretty miserable.  And Scott stayed on on Monday (although he spent most of the day on his cell phone) to see my permanent enslavement order go through – most of the town turned out, once the news got out, as I was presented in court, then the judge stamped the papers – it really was a formality!  But then the guard turned to me and told me to strip, as I was now a permanent slave, no longer an indentured servant, and all slaves appeared totally nude in court!  I could feel the eyes of the whole town burning in to me as I dropped my jeans and pulled off my shirt, to stand there, naked, whilst the judge simply gave away the rest of my life.

One good bit did come out of it, though – Scott told Hank to go into the local print shop and get an invoice printed up, and I made my first money as a permanent slave for Hank by being charged to Scott’s company as “weekend recreation”, as I guess I used to be.


I was pretty much in despair for about the next week, I can tell you.  But nothing much changed  – Hank treated me just as he always had, and then, once my Indentured Servant Savings Fund was released to him, there was all the excitement of building…. And, of course, Scott now spent every weekend at the ranch, and once we were all in bed, it became more and more like three guys together, not two free men and one slave.

So, looking back on it all, how can I sum it up?  If my buddies hadn’t done that stupid thing and implicated me in that robbery, I’d have climbed the corporate ladder, I suppose.  I was never going to set the world alight, like Scott, but I’d have been a nice comfortable first or second line manager, with some free men and a bevy of slaves working for me.  I’d have gone home to my comfortable home, a wife, maybe even kids….  Actually, I think I’ve got the best of the deal!

Hank’s Place, as it’s called, is one of the most expensive, most discrete, and best dude ranches in the country.  We’ve always kept it small, as Hank likes to give that “personal service” – really personal, for most of our clients!  We’ve had to take on some stud slaves, of course, as most of the clients like young guys, but I’m in charge of training them, and I really do a good job:  all those things I learned all those years ago are still true.  Scott retired last year, and he’s a really wealthy man, with all his stock options and everything, but you’d never know it:  when we’re all in bed together, it really is as if we’re three buddies.

Sure, I’m a slave, and when one of the guests demands it, I have to service him – but then, that’s what slaves do, isn’t it?  And it’s not very often, as most guys don’t want to fuck, or be fucked by, an old man. But most of the time I’m my own man, and that’s what counts, even though the world still sees me with my tattoos, and thinks “slave”.

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Pete Brown – the interview with the author



Pleasure Slave (all chapters)



Overview Pete Brown stories



Kinky Art by Theo Blaze