A story written by Pete Brown (Part 14 of 30). (Here you can find all the parts of this story.)
When the taxi arrived back at my house I had stiffened up and was aching all over from the beatings I had had. I was go grateful that dad was still away, as was Mrs Williams, as I wouldn’t have wanted them to see me like that. Reb had to almost carry me up the staircase, and all I wanted to do was to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and hope that the whole world would somehow go away.
Instead of that, though, Reb took me into the bathroom and sat me down on the toilet, telling me to try and crap. Look, I don’t know about you, but I might have pissed with some of the guys from my school team – all lining up along a wall or something as a bit of a joke – but there’s no way that I could ever crap with other guys around. I told Reb and Jake to get out of there, but Reb was busy running the bath and simply looked over his shoulder and muttered something about ‘being in the marines’ and ‘and then when you’re enslaved’ – I couldn’t hear properly above the noise of the rushing water, but I think he was telling me that he didn’t care as he was used to it.
I didn’t understand either why he was filling the huge sunken bathtub – it’s one of those mini-spa things with room for several people – as I always shower. But when he’d finished he gestured at it and said “In you go”.
“I shower. You know that.”
“This is to relax you. It’s very hot, and hot water helps to ease your muscles, take some of the pain out, makes the bruises less awful. Now, get in, before I pick you up and drop you in!”
I didn’t know if he was serious or not, but Reb’s a big powerful guy and I was all done in, so what was the point in arguing? I hauled myself to my feet and went across to the bathtub and put a toe in – it was fucking hot, and I told Reb to add cold water. “No. Just stop whining, will you, and get in. It needs to be hot like that if it’s to do any good.”
I turned away, but Reb was there and he grabbed my wrists so I couldn’t move. It was somehow surreal – me naked, him in a suit and tie and stuff. “It’s like those baths in Japan” he told me. “You inch your way in, very slowly indeed, and you’ll find you can do it. So get moving – or do you want me to push you in? I reckon that might hurt….” Standing on the edge there with him holding me I didn’t want to risk that he might be joking, so I put a toe in again, waited, then more of my foot..
It probably took about ten minutes for me to get in fully, then I half sat, half floated up to my neck in the near scalding water, and indeed I did begin to feel better. Jake stood there watching, and I felt I ought to show him that I was still in charge, so I said to Reb “Get out of those clothes! Not only are they my dad’s, but a slave shouldn’t be wearing more than his owner!”
Instead of doing it willingly and gladly as a slave should, Reb was clearly pissed off as he stood there and stripped. I even had to tell him not to drop dad’s suit on the floor, but to go and put it back on a hanger in dad’s closet.
When he came back he was still wearing a pair of dad’s boxers, and remembering what the sergeant had said to me I looked at him and said calmly “When I told you to strip, what part of that did you not understand, or did you not think I was talking to you?”
Reb looked thoroughly disgusted as he let the boxers fall to the floor, but then he came and knelt by the side of the bathtub. His dick was right at my eye level, and I began to regret having told him to be naked! “Lean forward”, he said to me, and I suppose I did it without thinking. Reb got hold of the soap and began to soap and massage my back, and I groaned quietly as although he was clearly trying to be very gentle, his strong fingers were painful across the bruising on my ribs. He looked around at Jake and told him “This is a bit like being back in the marines – I sometimes had to do this with the new recruits when their initial hazing got a bit out of hand.”
When he’d stopped soaping and smoothing my back and massaging my shoulders, which was amazingly relaxing – so much so that I almost fell asleep in the hot water – Reb thought he’d finished. But I remembered from somewhere that an owner needs to keep control by always giving permission for a slave to finish a task, rather than letting him make a decision. Yes, I know you may think that’s harsh of me given that Reb had saved me from the cops, but you’ve got to think long term – I wouldn’t be doing Reb any favours by not properly controlling and managing him now: he needed to keep having it reinforced to him that he was a slave.
“Get in here and do that stuff to my front”, I told him. “I’m all bruised there too.” The water had cooled down a bit by this time so Reb could step down into the tub relatively easily, albeit very slowly as he allowed his skin to react to the temperature – and so that he didn’t feel too comfortable, I deliberately made a little wave that meant that his sedate progress was upset. It’s a bit like going into the sea when I was a kid – I’d inch my way out, always hoping the next wave wouldn’t lap too high against me, and shrieking with laughter when one would suddenly splash my belly button – only in reverse, of course, as the water was hot and the sea was cool!
I locked eyes with him, as if daring him to complain, but I was distracted as he got deeper and deeper by the way his dick floated on the surface – I wanted to reach out and touch it, which was my right, I know, but held back as I wanted Reb to focus on me.
He stood in front of me then, and began to wash my front, and even though he was very gentle I kept wincing and moaning as my body reacted to the pain. He raised my arms above my head and did my pits, too, and now he was standing so close to me that our dicks touched. It was fantastic – and I made a mental note to junk the shower as I could have a lot of fun like this every day. Finally Reb sat back, next to me, and we sat there like two normal guys might do in a spa bath at a health club, except of course that there were no bubbles so I had a great view of Reb’s body.
“Come on, Jake! The water’s lovely!”, I called.
“No – I’d better be going home…”
Oh, please – come on, stay – there’s lots of room.”
“No, Steve. I want to be in my own bed tonight. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, and I want to get a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”
“I can’t drive you today, you complained about the walk last time… Come on, stay the night, and I’ll drive you in the morning.”
“I could get a taxi…”
“You used the last of your bills when you paid off the one we were in – I saw your wallet was empty.”
There was a kind of hopeless look in Jake’s eyes, and I briefly felt a bit embarrassed as I remembered what he’d said before about me not thinking about other guys. I suppose I should have offered to pay for the taxi, as the money means nothing to me but a ride out to our house probably took a sizeable part of Jake’s daily pay after deductions. I could have done it then, of course, but now I wanted Jake to stay, and this seemed as good a way as any to engineer it – it’s so much easier to be able to order slaves to do what you want, isn’t it? All this discussion and choices with a free guy!
I could see Jake didn’t want to admit he was broke, and after a couple of moments, he went out of the bathroom and through the open door I could see him stripping off his uniform, then fetching a hanger from my closet, and hanging it up. The sight of his body emerging from the clothes was arousing, and I slid the washcloth across the water so Reb wouldn’t see. Reb could have looked after Jake’s uniform, I thought – a guest here shouldn’t have to do stuff like that. Jake came back into the bathroom, and stood there looking down on us. He was half erect, and it gave me a new perspective on his body to see if from below.
“I’ll just take a shower, then…”
Quick as a flash I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and pulled as hard as I could. Jake was completely unprepared for it, and at first staggered, clutching wildly at the air for some non-existent support, then fell into the tub with a great splash. He came up spluttering, and stood there looking kind of cross.
“Come on, Jake! What’s wrong with this tub? I thought you’d be one of those guys who was in to saving the planet and all that crap – take a shower and waste all that water when there’s a perfectly good tub full here? Or are you ashamed of being together with a couple of real studs like Reb and me?”
“Hell, no! I’ve been with you both in closer quarters, haven’t I? Or have you forgotten the night at my place, and then taking Reb’s cherry? It’s just that I don’t like other guys’ dirty water – I was lucky that they replaced all the communal baths with showers just as I got to high school, so I never had to be with a lot of dirty, sweaty guys after a match!
He came and sat next to me, so I was neatly sandwiched between him and Reb. I thought of how Jake and I had seen that young Kenny sitting there between Ray and Stu, and I was determined that Jake would think of the image of a younger guy between two older ones, and what happened next when Kenny had to service them, was inappropriate. So I put my arms out, and sat back with one draped around Reb’s shoulders and the other around Jake’s – man, did that feel good – then deliberately pushed up a bit so that my dick came out of the water, and started to piss.
You’d have thought I’d have done something truly dreadful, as Jake tried to move away from me, and he shouted “You filthy cunt…”
“Hey, calm down! It’s only piss. It’s perfectly sterile, you know. I’ve seen porno stuff with guys drinking it – it’s not like crap…”
I stopped pissing as I hadn’t got a lot to give as they hadn’t given me much water or anything in the police station – it was more of a gesture, really. “OK, calm down! See, it’s all over…”
“It’s all over me! It’s all mixed up in the water…”
“Be sensible, Jake – I barely pissed a small glass full, and there must be hundreds of litres in here. It’s so dilute…”
“Yes, but..” He never got to finish the sentence, as I turned my face to his and kissed him. I think Jake was so startled as it had always been him taking the initiative in doing stuff like this before, that he shut up.
If any of you guys have ever been in a bath with another guy who’s got a great body, and you start fooling around, you’ll know exactly how sensual it is. In spite of all my aches and pains, I was erect – and, I’m pleased to say, so was Jake. The presence of Reb sitting there calmly and quietly, but with his body in close contact with mine, added an extra dimension to the whole thing. I took my arm from around Reb’s shoulder and reached down and began to stroke Jake’s dick – he put his hand around my wrist to try to stop me, but I could sense that he didn’t mean it as there was no power there: it’s as if he thought he ought to put up some resistance, but deep down didn’t really want to.
The inevitable happened after only a very short time, and Jake’s body was arching up out of the water as I jerked him to a climax, and a big stream of his cum shot down the tub. Then he sank back, and I gestured towards his cum which had turned into that sort of dirty white stringy stuff as it floated there: I always think it looks a bit like that glue that carpet fitters use, some sort of rubber-like mixture, which when it dries if it’s not under the carpet is kind of springy and much the same texture and appearance. I guess it’s the hot water actually cooking the creamy cum which changes its texture – rather like the white of an egg goes when you boil it. And my brain, always working, supplied me with the information that of course it would, as you’re doing essentially the same process to animal proteins.
“Hey, Jake – for a guy who’s worried about a bit of piss in the water you’ve sure made a mess here…” I turned to Reb and added “We’ll need to be careful when we get out – those strings of stuff are hell to get out if they get tangled in your pubes.”
Reb stared back at me, and remarked “Well not so much of a problem for guys like you and me is it, then… Sir? We’ve both had our pubes clipped, so we won’t really know.”
Bastard, I thought. Reminding me of my humiliation. But a little something inside me added ‘and of his, I suppose, when he was clipped for display at S & D’. Still, the effect was spoiled, so I stood up and stepped out of the tub, even though there were lots of residual pains in my body. “Come on, you two… Are you going to stay there all night? And Reb, I need drying…” I did need to remind them that I was the host, and should set the pace and the agenda.
Reb did a good job, actually. When I’d made him dry me before he’d been sort of offhand and casual about it, but now he was solicitous and sort of caring – like mom and dad were when they dried me as a kid. He smoothed the fluffy towel over my battered body, and even went gently, oh so gently, up between my legs to do there – something he’d tried to avoid before. Jake stood there towelling himself down really briskly, and I told him to wait as Reb could dry him when he’d finished me, and he just laughed. “Come on, Steve! A guy can do that for himself, even if he’s got a slave. It’s actually better to dry yourself as you know which bits are wet. It’s one of those things that’s better yourself – like jerking off: it’s fun to be with another guy, and different, but no one can really do it as well as you can yourself, don’t you think?”
Fuck me! Jake was pointing out my lack of experience again. So I said “Well some guys can bring out the best in people, and get them to do a superlative job….”, and left it at that.
Reb as usual threw himself down on to the bed and lay there on his belly, the picture of relaxation, with his head cradled in his arms – perhaps that’s what being in the marines teaches you, to be able to sleep anywhere, and time. I eased myself down as I was still painful all over, but then remembered the experience of the nigga, and moved and half lay on Reb, letting my legs fall on either side of his as he sprawled out, putting my arms around his chest so my hands were on his nips underneath, and cradling my head in the lovely soft, sweet-smelling hollow at the base of his neck. Reb muttered and complained a bit, quietly, and moved to get himself more comfortable, and I did the same, and it felt somehow right to be lying there like that – nothing sexual in it, I wasn’t even erect – it was just an owner enjoying the feeling of his slave. No, that’s wrong – it was more like one guy taking comfort from that feeling that you get when males bond. And Jake must have thought something like that was going on, as he ‘spooned’ up to the bit of me that wasn’t on Reb, adding the feeling of his body to the pleasurable sensations flowing through me. I drifted off to sleep in spite of all the dull aches and pains I was feeling.
You know I’m usually wide awake and ready to go, but it was only when Jake shook me gently and said he had to go that I woke up – still lying on Reb, still with my arms around him almost as if he was a big teddy bear, as I’d had as a tiny kid. I was erect now, though, and my dick was lodged somewhere in between Reb’s thighs (rather like the nigga’s had been between mine in the ‘cage’). I moved off Reb and sat up, rubbing my eyes to try to wake up. Reb continued to lie there, deep in sleep, so I slapped his ass to wake him up, and he was his usual grumpy self as I reckon he’d sleep twenty hours a day if I let him.
“Are you OK now, Steve – I’ve got to get off to work, and it’s a long walk…” Jake asked.
Still a bit bleary eyed I looked at the clock. “It’s so fucking early! Still not quite light! Why do you have to go so early?”
“I’ll take you – it’s not safe on these roads for a walker until it’s light as people don’t expect pedestrians and drive too fast. I reckon I can just about drive my car.”
“Hey, you’re learning! Did I just hear you offering to do something for a buddy?”
“I do lots of things for you, Jake – or are you forgetting the other night?” I smiled at him as I said this, and he could see my dick going even harder.
“But are you OK, Steve? I mean, those cops…”
“I think so….”
Reb swung himself to the floor, and the next minute he’d grabbed my ankles and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I was so surprised I hardly reacted, and he forced my legs apart and raised my ankles up to his shoulders, so he was looking down directly at my asshole.
Resting one ankle on his shoulder he dropped a huge gob of spit down on to my hole then pushed his finger in – no, that’s wrong: for such a big guy he was immensely gentle in getting his finger lubed and then ‘teasing’ it in. Even so I winced, and gave a little cry.
“He’s OK”, he told Jake.
“OK? Two guys raped me last night….”
Reb shrugged and looked at Jake again. “if he was a female slave there might very well have been a problem as he might be pregnant. But there’s no problem, is there, as it was only guys fucking a guy’s ass? – well, except that I can feel he’s all puffy and swollen down there, but that’s only transitory. By tomorrow all that soreness will have gone.”
The bastard! He was using almost the same words about me as I’d used to him when he’d complained about me and Jake taking his cherry. It’s a real problem at times like this, isn’t it? I kind of knew he was mocking me, or trying to point out some absurdity in my position, but what do you do? If you ignore it, he’s won a little victory; but if you call him out and tell him you know what he’s up to, all he would do was act the ‘misunderstood innocent’, and you’re no better off! On the whole I decided on this occasion to say nothing, but I mentally noted that Reb was possibly smarter than I’d given a grunt marine credit for, or that his mental attitude was still far from that of being a properly subservient slave; or possibly both, of course.
Jake was pretty quiet as I drove him in to town. It was one of those ‘elephant in the room’ kind of times. Finally, I said “Are we going to meet when you’ve finished work? You and me – no Ray, no Stu, just us two…?”
“What for, Steve?” The bastard. He was going to make this difficult for me.
“Well, you know, we might hang out…”
“Steve, you’re not yet eighteen. I’m a man, at work. I’ll do some stuff I like, go down to the club…”
“I could come too.”
“Steve, you’re always telling me you’re not a ‘fag’. Why do you want to hang out with me? And why would you want to come to the club – you know what it’s like now.”
“Look, it’s not being a ‘fag’ to want to hang out with another guy.”
“Steve, you’re doing it again! You’re not answering the question I put – you’re making a statement that’s somewhat connected with it, and hoping I won’t notice. I may only be a guard, I may not have gone to a good school like you and be heading for college, but I’m not stupid. Or do you think I am?!
“No, of course not!”
“So why do you want….” Jake never got to finish the sentence as I’d turned in to the Scabbard & Drass back parking lot, and there right in a corner near the employee entrance was a naked figure seemingly crouching. I braked the car, and Jake rushed out.
There was the much-whipped blond pony I’d often seen so cruelly mistreated when I’d been going to collect dad. The reason he was crouching was that a rope had been threaded through the holes in his hands and wrapped around the base of the fence around the lot – it was simple enough to undo the knot, but not of course if your hands are tied in that way. He’d shit himself and there was a pile of his turds on the ground by him, and he was evidently extremely cold in the chilly early morning air as his skin was a sort of bluish-white colour, and he was trembling uncontrollably.
“Throw your coat around him, Steve”, Jake shouted. “He looks as if he’s going to die of exposure.”
“But he’s crapped himself – it’s disgusting! He’s probably dirty…”
“So might you have done to yourself if you’d been tethered here like this – he must have been here all night – look how cold he is! Now give him your coat – or do I have to tear it off you?”
Very reluctantly I took off my pure cashmere topcoat and draped it over the shivering pony as Jake bent down fumbling with the knots. I felt certain the hem of it would trail in the pile of crap if he moved in the wrong direction. As I did so I saw something attached to the pony’s collar, and pulled it off. “Jake, listen to this – this note on his collar says ‘This pony is disobedient and requires constant whipping. He is incapable of performing well and will not pull a trap properly, especially up hills. He is now lame, and is therefore totally worthless. Please dispose of him as I cannot bear to have the creature around any longer’.”
Jake had the knots undone now and was helping the pony to his feet. I could see one leg was bent as he stood there shivering. “Fucking hell! Dispose of him? Do you know what that means?”
“No. But I suppose they want him sold?”
“Steve, ‘dispose’ means something very special in the pony trade. It means ‘put down’ – you know what that means? Scabbard & Drass is one of the authorised dealers who can kill old and incapable slaves – those who go mad, for example. So this poor guy is due for execution.”
“I guess they’re authorised as they do it humanely….”
“Steve! This guy’s my age! He’s got most of his life to live!”
“Not if he’s disobedient, useless, and lame – fat lot of use he is as a pony.”
“Fuck you, Steve! You know jack shit about slave training, in spite of all those books you’ve read. Most slaves are described as being disobedient and useless as their owners don’t know how to manage them, and don’t want to admit it. And as for being lame… Well, so OK he may not be any good as a pony, but he’s got a pretty nice body…”
“….disfigured with all those whip marks.”
“…which will mostly heal. We can’t let him be slaughtered – a few days rest, maybe we can get something done about the lameness, wait for the rest of the scars to heal… We could make a nice sum by selling him on.”
“Oh, it’s not worth the trouble.”
“Maybe not for you, Steve. But for a guy like me, it would make a huge difference – you know I’m not flush with cash. And the present from Ray and Stu went on bribing the sergeant, if you remember. So I need the money.”
“I’ve already told you I think it’s wrong to accept so-called ‘presents’ from those guys. And as for taking part in the slave trade…”
“And what do you do, Steve? You take money from your dad all the time. Your whole life has been spent accepting ‘presents’ of one kind or another. So don’t criticise me – at least I work for my ‘presents’ – you simply stand there and say ‘thank you, dad’!”
I could hear that Jake was really angry now. He must be really jealous of my relationship with dad. But he went on “Anyway, stop wasting time! This guy is half dead with the cold, and I’m going to make a bit of money. Put him in your car, and….”
“There’s no room at your place, surely, for all this R & R for the salve.”
“You’re right, Steve. The first sensible thing you’ve said all day. There is no space at my place, but you’ve got lots.”
“No, dad wouldn’t like it.”
“There you go again! Dad wants… Dad says… Dad thinks… When are you going to grow up, Steve and really make your own way in the world? You keep telling me you’re almost eighteen, and yet you’re way off being a man – a long, long way.” Jake’s outburst stopped for a moment, then he went on in a quieter tone “In any case, he needn’t know. There’s plenty of space in that pool house of yours.”
“It’s not suitable to keep a slave out there…”
“It’s almost certainly a lot better than the stable that this poor guy must have lived in. An owner who treats a pony like this wouldn’t bother to give him a proper place to sleep and stuff, would he?” He stopped again for another moment and went on “So quit all this stupid argument. Do you want to save this poor guy, or not?”
I wasn’t sure I did, actually, He was a slave, after all. But if I said no, would Jake be so pissed off he’d never want to see me again? And the more I thought about it, the more I saw there was something to be gained – with the slave at our place, Jake would have to come around every day to do things to him, or at the very least to check on progress. It would be something we could share, something that could take us beyond plain sex. So I said as casually as I could “I’ll help you out, of course, Jake But I can’t tell dad. So you’ll have to come and do whatever’s necessary, look after him…. You’re going to get the profit, after all.”
“That must be a record! Steve has said two sensible things in a row. And he’s not going to tell his daddy! You are showing signs of growing up.”
I wasn’t altogether pleased with Jake’s ironic tone, but at least at one level it was vaguely flattering. So I opened the trunk of the car, and told the pony to get in as I didn’t want his dirty body all over the upholstery. “Thank you, master, oh thank you….” The poor creature muttered as he climbed in, still shivering and shaking almost uncontrollably.
“I’ve got to go to work, Steve. But I’ll be around tonight as soon as I can, OK? And in the meantime as soon as you get home the pony needs warming up, his wounds cleaning, a proper feed… Get Reb to help you – he seems a pretty sensible kind of guy, and knew what to do to help you last night.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t going to get Reb to help – I mean, it’s not the sort of thing a free man does, is it? Reb would be more than capable of looking after this slave, and it would have the added benefit of keeping hi occupied, and stopping him from thinking too much. Maybe when he saw the state of this creature he’d begin to be grateful for having a good, considerate owner like me.
Driving home I had to put the radio on as the whining and crying from the trunk was distracting. I parked around the back and went upstairs, and Reb was still sprawled out on the bed – he must have gone back to sleep after we’d left! He might at least have got up when we did, and have been ready for me to come home. I realised I’d been too considerate before, merely slapping him on his ass to wake him up, especially now I’d seen what some owners do. So I got the punishment cane and bought it sharply down on his butt.
That certainly woke him up, he leapt out of bed and he stood there then in front of me rubbing his hands over his butt, which was actually kind of comical.
“That hurt!”, he complained.
“It was meant to. You need to learn to be more attentive, to wake when I do…”
“I was awake half the night – having a guy like you sprawled over me as I’m trying to sleep makes it difficult….”
“Learn some respect! I’m not ‘a guy like you’ – I’m your owner.”
He turned and went into the bathroom “Leave that for now – there’s work to be done. Come on outside to the car…”
I know you shouldn’t look back as you should expect a slave to follow you when you’ve given him an order like that, but I half expected Reb might stop to piss or something, and I’d need to punish him. He had delayed fractionally – he’d pulled on a pair of shorts – but as he was now close behind me I didn’t think I could call him out on that as it might seem a bit petty and I wanted Reb to think of me as ‘firm, but fair’, as the books say the best owners
are. He stood near the rear door of the house shuffling around in the morning cold and moving his bare feet up and down on the flagstones. I opened the trunk of the car and Reb came over to see. “Fucking hell! What happened to him? Did you hit him with the car, and now you want me to deal with him…?”
“Nice to see you have confidence in my driving, Reb! No, he’s a slave we’re looking after for Jake – that’s Master Jake. And, actually, you’re looking after him. He’s in pretty poor shape after a whole lot of whipping, and he was left outside all night in the cold.”
“Fucking hell! Some owners ought to be shot, treating a guy like this!” Reb bent over and started to help the slave out of the trunk.
“Careful, Reb! His owner said he’s disobedient and wild… And I don’t want you damaged.”
The slave was standing there now, a pathetic sight, shivering with the cold, balanced mostly on one leg, and with some fresh blood where some of the whip wounds had opened up.
“He’s no danger! Any fool can see that! He’s not much older than you, Steve, and he’s half dead…”
“Reb, I’m not ‘Steve’ I’m ‘Sir’ to you! And I don’t like your tone. And I’m a fool, am I?”
Reb didn’t even bother to answer and went to lead the slave into the house.
“He’s not to go in the house!”, I called. “He’s supposedly a trained pony, and he’s therefore an outside slave.”
“I’ve got to get him warm, get him cleaned up…”
“In the pool house! That’s where he’s going to live. If he really is a trained pony he probably pisses everywhere as he’s been taught not to hold back – and you can easily scrub the pool house floor if he does. Mrs Williams would read the riot act if an animal pissed on the kitchen floor.”
“He needs something to eat…”
“So give him that chow I bought for you. I hate to see waste.”
Reb glared at me again, went to wrap my coat around the slave, but I stopped him, pointing out that the slave was running with blood. Reb started to protest, and I reminded him that the longer he stood there arguing with me the colder the salve was getting: why couldn’t he simply try obeying my orders immediately, as then things would go a lot quicker. Reb glared at me again, put one big arm around the slave and started to lead him away. I picked up my coat and there were traces of blood inside – it really made me angry as I’d only just bought it for the winter season, it was a really expensive cashmere, as I’ve told you, and very fashionable. Now it might even be ruined, and in any case stuff back from the dry cleaners never feels quite as good as ‘brand new’. And then it occurred to me that it couldn‘t even go to the dry cleaners that day – I had no idea where the cleaners was, as Mrs Williams always organised all that sort of stuff with the household contract slaves – so I wouldn’t even get it back tomorrow as she was still away. All this doing good deeds for slaves really was a pain in the butt, and I reckoned once I pointed out all the inconvenience Jake would know he owed me big time.
I went inside and made myself some coffee, but it was pretty miserable finding something to eat – there was a freezer somewhere, I knew, with Danish pastries – imported from Copenhagen so they were the genuine article – but where the fuck was it? Then I knew it wasn’t worth searching for it as I didn’t have time to wait for the things to unfreeze – it probably took hours! Mrs Williams had a trick with a microwave, I suppose, as she always had a fresh hot pastry if I wanted one for breakfast, but I’d no idea how to use it. It really was annoying, and I made a note to myself to talk to dad to get him to tell Mrs Williams that things needed to be better arranged if she was going off and deserting us for days. So I had to make do with cereal and fruit – but I suppose that’s healthier, although not as much fun. After ‘breakfast’ I mooched around answering my mail, updating my social network with a lot of stuff – but obviously omitting all the humiliation in the police station – and all the other social necessities like that. So it was a couple of hours before I thought it would be interesting to see how Reb was getting on with the slave.
Reb and the slave were both in the big whirlpool spa in the pool house, and it was bubbling away and judging from the steam around the place, it was on high temperature. They were sitting together, close, and Reb was smiling and chatting just as he should be doing with me. The decking around the spa was littered with the wrappers of packets of slave chow, and I wondered just how many Reb had fed the pony – I’d need to tell him to be careful as it would be difficult to sell the slave anyway, and there’s be no chance if the slave was fat. I called out to Reb to say I was going to do some work on the machines in the gym, and to get out of the fucking spa and dress the slave’s wounds or whatever was needed – and to let the water out and replace it, as with a pony you couldn’t be sure he hadn’t pissed into it. Actually, of course, that’s stupid as even with real men in there you can’t be sure they haven’t pissed – I know I do occasionally. But it didn’t hurt to remind Reb that this slave was in a different class, an outdoor slave, with none of the privileges that Reb enjoyed.
I really worked up a sweat in the gym and thought about showering, but Reb and the pony came in at that moment – Reb had found one of my old sweatshirts and a pair of workout shorts for the pony, and he looked strangely human. Actually, he looked pretty cute – if I’d met him at high school I’d have thought he was on the swim team or something, and that he’d have been a real rival for me in the affections of the girls.
He did seem well trained, though, as immediately he saw me he fell to his knees in front of me and started touching his forehead to the ground, crying out “Thank you, master, oh thank you. Thank you, master.”
“See, Reb – that’s how a slave should be, properly grateful. Unlike some I could mention.”
“Perhaps it’s only the contrast, Steve, between what he’s been used to – he’s had a shitty deal, he was telling me, and anyone would be thankful to be out of that.”
A moment later I was cursing myself. I was so enamoured with hearing myself called ‘master’ that I’d failed to notice Reb not even using ‘sir’ and calling me Steve. But once you’ve let these things slip by for a few seconds you can’t go back and correct it as it seems to be nit-picking.
Reb stooped down and gently helped the slave to stand up. “This is Gregoravich”, Reb added, as if he was making a formal introduction.
“Yes, master, thank you, master”, the slave said.
“That’s too long a name for a pony. What did your last owner call you, boy?”
The slave looked puzzled. “Nothing, master. He never called me anything. He only ever said ‘the station’ or ‘home’ or something like that to tell me where to take him.”
“You must have had a name – in your stable….”
“No, master. All us ponies were forbidden to speak – well you’re not allowed to when you’re on duty anyway, but my old master thought we should be silent all the time. So we were, or we were punished.” I noticed he shivered slightly as he said this.
“Fucking disgrace!”, Reb muttered angrily. “The kid was treated like an animal. Ever since he was enslaved at sixteen he’s hardly said a word. Never spoken to kindly – no, never spoken to….”
“Reb, keep calm about this, will you? Everyone knows it’s best to treat pony slaves as much like animals as possible – it makes it easier for them. You can’t have them chattering away one minute and the next needing to be silent as they’re working, or else they get punished. It’s easier for them to be silent all the time, if you think about it.”
“No, it’s not right, whatever you say. For the last two years he’s had to constantly curb his natural tendencies – you should know how hard it is at your age not to speak!”
“So he’s eighteen?”
“Yes. He stupidly ran away from home in California as his stepfather made life tough for him. Hitchhiked across the country as his grandmother lives – or lived – in Boston: she came here from one of those Scandinavian countries but her daughter went to the west coast. Fell foul of the law as he was so hungry he picked up left overs at McD’s, then he was tried as a vagrant as he had no money and no fixed address – and that’s enslavement of course.”
“You know a lot about him!”
“Well he’s been talking quite a lot ,as you might expect…”
“You’re doing him no favours. As soon as he’s in a fit state Jake will sell him, probably as a pony. Then he won’t be allowed to talk again.” I stopped to let Reb – and the pony – understand that. “Anyway, whilst he’s here I can’t keep calling him ‘the slave’ as it risks confusion with you, Reb. And Gregor-a-whatever is too long a name for a pony. Slave names need to be short, and simple, as yours is, Reb.” Ha ha, I thought to myself, that’s given Reb a lesson as well. “So we’ll call him ‘Greg’. That has the advantage that if Jake wants it tattooed onto the pony, or branded into his hide, it’s nice and short.”
“No, master, please, master…. I’ve been branded, master… Please, please, anything but that, not again….”
“See, Reb – now you’ve got him talking, he thinks he can do it whenever he likes.” I looked at the pony and added “Greg, we’re a bit more lenient here than your last owner, and whilst you’re recovering so that master Jake can sell you for a good price, you can talk a bit. But you need to think about the future – you could be getting into bad habits, and your next owner will then punish you.”
Greg nodded, rather than saying anything. See, it is possible to make some slaves see sense, I thought. I noted it down mentally, to use as an example to Reb next time he disobeyed.
“Anyway, I’d better take a look at Jake’s property in case there’ anything else needs doing.”
“There’s not”, Reb said sullenly.
I gave him a look that told him I had ignored him, and looked at the pony. “Shuck those clothes so I can inspect you.”
The pony didn’t hesitate even for a moment, and pulled off the sweatshirt and dropped the shorts. I suppose it was easy for him as he was used to running around naked, or with only one of those pony pouches as covering. I remembered how embarrassed I’d been at the police station when I’d been made to strip in from of the cops, but he seemed completely unconcerned about Reb and me looking at him now.
Fucking hell! Naked he was more than cute! He was stunning. Like so many blond guys his skin tanned to a wonderful caramel brown, and of course there was no signs of a tan line at all so it looked as if he was some sort of ‘breed from a distance – but once you looked closely you could see from his features that he was top quality whitey. Unlike a lot of ponies who have shaved heads, or close crops, or even have their hair grown into sort of ‘manes’, his owner had et Greg have ‘natural’ hair and it flopped appealingly over his forehead – no, on closer inspection it wasn’t ‘natural’ at all, but very artfully cut to make him look like a real man who could afford an expensive barber to give him that uber-fashionable ‘sexy man about town’ look.
He’d been left with hair on his chest, too, not shaved smooth like so many animals, and the blond of this was a really great contrast to his skin tone, and as it ran down in a delightful treasure trail it got darker, so his pubes, although still blond, were almost brown. All that was natural, but his pubes had been clipped as you’d expect, but once again very artfully done so he didn’t have that ‘shaven’ appearance that Reb had (and me too now, I remembered!). Instead, he had a few short, curly bunches above his dick, which then sort of fell away ‘naturally’ at the side (his dick and balls were smooth, of course). The rest of his body – arms, legs, and butt I saw as I turned him around, had a sheen of very fine blond hairs all over them, all bleached almost white by the sun as those hairs do – and as he had been naked for so long, they hadn’t been worn away over his butt by the action of shorts so it was wonderfully silkily furry (almost like a teddy bear I’d had as a kid).
Normally I like a slave to have a long, thick dick that hangs down in front of his balls – that was one of Reb’s best features – but Greg was at the other end of the scale: he had one of those well-proportioned dicks that’s carried high on top of a well-filled rounded sac, so even when he was not erect his dick jutted out, and I was reminded about Michelangelo’s ‘David’ – except of course that Greg’s belly was flat and hard, with lines of muscle below the surface, rather than the effete rounded almost feminine belly of the statue.
There was no trace of fat on him, just hard muscle everywhere, and he was staggeringly well proportioned – wide shouldered, long legs, and a real ‘bubble butt’. He was a perfect ‘swimmer’ I suppose, and I could imagine him wiping the board in the pool. Surprisingly, too, a lot of the whip marks on his back did not now seem so terrible – sure there were a lot of scabs and things from the most recent ones, but the bleeding had stopped. And when I touched the skin gently in some places my finger tips were aware of hard knots of older scars under the surface, but they were almost invisible unless you looked really closely. I began to feel that Jake’s idea of fixing the slave and selling him for a good price was not quite as stupid as it had at first appeared – but then he did see a lot of slaves at S & D, so perhaps his specialised knowledge helped him.
Reb saw me looking at him so carefully, and he added “As well as having to be silent, he wasn’t allowed to jerk off or anything. Can you imagine how that must feel for a guy his age? Always erect when he’s trying to get to sleep, and knowing that the best he can hope for is a ‘wet dream’? Mind you I guess he’s got some advantages over some of us….” He stopped, and, foolishly, I fell into the trap. “Such as?”
“Well he knows what it’s like to have a woman…. Sir. His owner occasionally put on entertainments for his friends, when Greg would have to ‘stud’ the women, just like a stallion. So he’s had proper sex.”
The way he said ‘sir’ in that ‘sneering’ way he can, and the heavy emphasis he put on the word ‘proper’ showed me he was mocking me and criticising me. I was furious, but wasn’t going to snap and shout at Reb for insolence. He needed to be punished, but the punishment needed to be equally subtle, so Reb would understand that actions led to retaliation in kind.
“Since you seem to have struck up such an acquaintance, and found out so much about his life, Reb, I think you owe it to Greg to give him a little helping hand. I’d like to see Greg ‘in action’, so be so good as to jerk him off for me, please. I’d have liked to see Greg in action as a stud, too, but jerking him off will do for now – we can have him stud your ass, Reb, when Jake gets here – if he wants to see a show, that is. Bit a simple masturbation will do for now. And when he’s shot, maybe a comparison? Yes, a little competition: will it be you or Greg who can shoot the furthest, and which of you produces the higher volume, do you think?”