A story written by Pete Brown (Part 24 of 30). (Here you can find all the parts of this story.)
We went to set off for Jake’s apartment, but Reb called out “Steve…” I turned around and he was gesturing at me frantically.
“Some clothes…?” He went on. They’d given me mine back, as you know, but I guess that as he was still a slave, no-one had bothered to do the same for him.
“You’ll be OK – it’s only a few blocks!”
Jacob took hold of my arm “Steve, think, will you? How was it for you to be naked in the court here? Well, it’s the same for Reb – you surely can’t be thinking of making him go like that all the way back to my place!”
It hadn’t occurred to me, actually, as you do see naked ponies in the streets all the time, and so it wouldn’t be all that different for Reb. But Jake seemed to be pretty insistent, and went and spoke to the guards and eventually they threw a pair of shorts and a sweat shirt at Reb, who pulled them on gratefully.
At Jake’s apartment I wanted to make plans to try to do something for dad – but my phone was dead of course as the bastards had cut it off once all the interconnected computers and stuff had realised that dad was now a slave. I’d need to get service again, but Jake pointed out that that might be hard, as I wouldn’t be registered as living anywhere any more, and so the phone companies would demand a huge deposit, which I didn’t have. He lent me his for the moment though, and I called dad’s office at once – it was utterly frustrating, as I got to speak to several of his partners – former partners, I should say – and all of them said they could do nothing as once a slave, always a slave. And when I asked for dad’s share of the partnership profits to be paid to me, they said that that, too, was impossible: partners weren’t salaried, but got a share of the profits each month based on the amount voted by the partners’ committee, and as dad was a slave, his percentage would certainly be zero! If you ask me all they saw was a chance to get an even bigger share for themselves.
Next I said I’d better go to and try and see dad, but Jake told me that this was useless. “They’re taken from the court to the State slave induction centre to receive initial induction to slavedom…”
“Steve, all the stuff that slaves need to know – how to behave, how to address free men, and then for slaves who look as if they might be used for sex, a thorough training in technique…” He saw me looking horrified and added “But of course that’s not likely for your dad, as most owners won’t want to use a slave of his age for stuff like that. But I expect it will be tough for him to learn to be properly subservient….”
“So when can I see him?”
“Well basic induction is a week. If your dad’s difficult and the lessons need to be ‘reinforced’ – with the lash – it can be another week, plus any physical recovery time. Then he gets sent to a State authorised dealer, like Scabbard & Drass, and they then do any stuff that they think will enhance the slave – shaving the body, circumcision, stuff like that…. And then he’ll go on sale. That’s the most likely time that you can get to see him: they certainly don’t allow visitors at the induction centre, and at S & D it’s not allowed, either. The best you can hope for is to pretend to be a potential buyer and snatch a few words with him as they bring him for display in front of you.”
“I can’t put dad through that…”
“What’s the choice, Steve? He’s being ‘inducted’ right now. And I know the system at S & D…”
“No, I mean having him displayed in front of me! There must be another way, a private sale…?”
“As I said, Steve, two things stop that. Firstly, you’ve got no money. And secondly, you’re not allowed to purchase a family member. And, in any case, what’s the difference between your dad being displayed in front of you, and being displayed in the front of any other potential buyer?”
“Well you could buy him….”
“Sure, Steve, sure I could. But you seem to overlook the fact that I’ve got no money either!“ He looked at me carefully, our eyes locking, and he went on, calmly and quietly. “Look, Steve, this is going to be tough for you. I know your dad means a lot to you, but it would be kinder to both of you, I reckon, if you try to forget him totally – no, that’s wrong: don’t forget him, but perhaps it would be best to think of him as dead… Your dad died, suddenly and unexpectedly.”
“Steve, your dad will find it hard enough to adapt to being a slave, without the thought that at any moment you might show up and try to see him. Quite apart from anything else it might upset him so much, or at the very least irritate his owner, that he gets punished. And
as for you… Well, you need to think about yourself…. Not that you usually find it hard to do that!”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got no money. You’ve got no job. You’re going to find it hard to get a job, as I’ve kept telling you since we met – no college degree, no job! You’re eighteen, Steve, and that’s a very good age for the career stretching in front of you unless a miracle happens…”
“Slavedom, Steve. You’ll be destitute. And sooner or later the cops will pick you up off the streets and you won’t be able to prove that you can support yourself, and the court will judge that it’s in your best interests to be ‘looked after’ – by an owner, of course. A lot of people will gladly buy a good-looking eighteen year old with a great body….”
I looked at Jake, and he gave a little gesture of support. “But you needn’t worry about that immediately – I’ll fund you for as long as I can, and we’ll try to work something out. And there remains Reb, of course – I don’t want you to sell him, but perhaps you will have to.”
“Yes, I could sell Reb. Perhaps I should do it now, get some money, some more clothes, my phone turned on….”
“Steve! You know I don’t agree with selling slaves!”
“Don’t be so fucking hypocritical, Jake! You work at S & D…”
“…only because the alternative is destitution and enslavement! No, you’re not going to sell Reb, at least until it’s unavoidable. After all, if you are enslaved yourself, he’ll be forfeited to the State anyway.”
“Gee, thanks!”, Reb cut in. “It’s nice to hear of me being disposed of so casually…”
“Sorry, Reb, but we have to be realistic”, Jake told him. “All Steve here can think of is clothes and phones and stuff, but we can postpone it as long as possible as something may turn up. After all, for all his faults Steve isn’t a bad owner, and it’s better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”
“Hey, you two! Cut it out, will you? You’re right, I’m not a bad owner! I’ve always done the right thing for the slaves….”
“Like having me branded, raping me….” Reb shouted.
“Cut it out!”, Jake snapped. “I’m not going to have any bickering like this in my apartment. You’re both guests here, remember that! You need to get real, Steve – things have changed dramatically for you, and the sooner you adjust , the better. And Reb, like it or not, you are a slave. And actually Steve is a pretty good owner – compared to a lot of them. The mining companies, for example! You wouldn’t get raped just once there, you know – a hundred or so horny miners are known to turn on the new guys…”
“If they haven’t been ‘stubbed’, of course” I added, as I wanted to remind Reb that I had, after all, rescued him from that.
It seemed that this had cleared the air a bit, though, and Jake then said that we’d better go out and shop for dinner. I suggested we went to a restaurant instead, and Jake shook his head. “Adjust, Steve! Dinner for three in a restaurant… Even a cheap one… We can get and cook stuff for three days for that.”
Actually it was quite interesting, at least at first – I’d rarely been in a food market before as Mrs Williams organised all that sort of stuff. But seeing all the food there, all laid out, it was exciting: I like fresh peaches and those on display looked really great and I put half a dozen in to our basket, but Jake stopped me. “Look at the price! It’s winter, Steve, and they have all been shipped in! We can’t afford them! All we can have is apples, as they’re local and are coming out of storage.” And it went on and on like that – I wanted a lobster as they had them all there in a tank, and that was vetoed. As was steak, in favour of ground beef, and so on. Jake wouldn’t even let me have my favourite cola as he pointed out that the store’s own brand was two cents cheaper.
It had never occurred to me before that guys could cook! But Jake seemed to be an expert, and we had a really great chilli – Jake did lots of rice with it as he said that would fill us up, and that was particularly necessary for Reb.
My mood had brightened up as all this was going on, but as bedtime approached I began to feel really low as I thought of what I’d lost, and of dad. Jake said that all three of us couldn’t fit into his bed as it wasn’t as big as my former own, but that his couch was a ‘convertible’ and he tossed some blankets and stuff at Reb and told him to work it out. And then the two of us were lying there, and I felt like crying, but Jake was a great comforter. He hugged me, we kissed, and he whispered “Things will look different in the morning, Steve. We’ll get through this – somehow. I’m not going to lose you….” and then we messed around a bit, and kissed some more, and we jerked each other off, and I did fall asleep.
The next morning though I was slapped awake by Jake who grinned at me as I lay there rubbing my eyes – and my ass. “Come on, Steve! This is the real world. You can’t lie there all day… I’ve got to go off to start my shift. Now, whilst I’m out at work, you need to go
and shop for dinner, and make it so that it’s ready for me tonight as I’m working at Ray and Stu’s place.” He tossed me a couple of bills and went on “But no lobster, no peaches, nothing expensive! Get Reb to help you – he’s a whole lot more sensible than you are, and knows the value of stuff!”
Well I didn’t like that a whole lot, but at least Reb could carry the shopping, I suppose.
Reb and I went for a long run that morning as I was feeling so lethargic, then we went to the food store and it took ages as we had to keep checking that the stuff we had bought was less than the money we had. Then I sent Reb back to Jake’s apartment, and I thought I’d mooch around the stores a bit – not that I could buy anything, but so that I could at least keep up with the fashion. To my amazement, though, this was not as easy as it seemed – there seemed to be something ‘different’ about me, some indefinable change in my posture or attitude or something that the stores could detect – so that when I went into A & F even the slaves who recognised me were in some way urging me out of the place almost as soon as I’d crossed the threshold.
I was walking along the sidewalk therefore feeling pretty low, when a woman in front of me stumbled, and her expensive packages from Saks and places went flying. I immediately went to help her, and as she was rather old I crouched beside her and told her not to move until she’d got her ‘wind’ back, and said everything would be OK, and then after a couple of minutes helped her to her feet, and went collected the scattered packages. As usual a lot of other people had sort of stopped, taken a look, then gone on by.
“I’d call a taxi for you ma’am… But I haven’t got…. There’s a problem with my phone today. But if you wait here I’ll jog to the station and fetch one…”
“Thank you, young man. But that will not be necessary. I do not believe in taxis.”
At first I didn’t understand her. I mean you don’t believe in the ju-ju in the sky. But taxis are here, tangible things – how could you not ‘believe’ in them? Then it struck me – perhaps she was like me, she couldn’t afford a taxi! But then I took another look at her packages – she’d clearly spent a ton of money, so that couldn’t be it.
“I would however consider it to be a great kindness if you could however assist me to the bus stop – I’m still feeling a little shaky..” she added. I nodded and she held out her hand “Augusta Farrar”.
I introduced myself, and said I’d be glad to help her (well, I had nothing else to do), and it felt good to be carrying the packages from all those expensive stores. I could see other people looking at us as we made our way to the bus stop and at first I thought they must be envying me – they’d think I was a dutiful grandson helping his grandmother, or something.
But then the thought struck me that they might equally think of me as a slave! This rich old lady had bought a handsome young slave like me and I was serving her on her shopping expedition. And some of them were probably laughing at the thought that later on I’d probably be ‘serving’ her in her bed! It made me feel sick, almost – especially as it then occurred to me that this might indeed be my future! As a slave I might be bought by old guys like Ray and Stu and I’d have to suck their dicks and so on – but suppose I was bought by some old woman? Or even a young woman, who wanted a ‘stud’ to pleasure her?
We got to the bus stop and she began to thank me. The bus came along at that moment and she asked me to help her board as she was feeling a little bruised, then handed the driver a note and asked me if I would mind accompanying her home, and told the man to take both fares. Well that was a relief, at least, and I hoped we were not going too far as I’d have to walk back.
Her house was not far from the bus stop, in a very good area indeed. It was not as big as ours, but it somehow had an uncaredfor look. We went in and there was a big woman waiting inside who fussed around, and I recognised the type – this was a Mrs Williams equivalent!
Mrs Farrar then quickly explained what had happened, and said “Well, Mr Masters, you will surely stop for lunch, will you not? It’s the least I can do for you.”
I wanted to say that I’d prefer a few new dollars, but I suppose I wasn’t yet at the point where I was that desperate for money that I could let my manners slip.
It was very refined – real woman’s food, I guess – delicate slivers of avocado with an exotic dressing, then a home made quiche with a few salad leaves, followed by a tiny lemon mousse served in a demitasse cup. Over lunch Mrs Farrar explained that she was a member of the American Anti-Slavery Society or A A S S. “We have to be careful, Mr Masters, as some of our detractors – and there are many – insist on mispronouncing our initials!”
She then went on to explain that she could not of course own slaves as a leading light of the society, or even use things like taxis as “those poor ponies can be subject to such brutal treatment.” And that for her life was becoming increasingly difficult as the companies she had formerly used for things like house cleaning and the maintenance of the grounds were increasingly turning to the use of slaves, and she “could not bear to see the poor creatures being lashed when they were on her property.”
“Do you believe in slavery, Mr Masters?” She then enquired as we sipped out coffee and petits-fours.
Well, what could I say? I did – I had, anyway. But now it looked as if I’d soon be one of those ‘poor creatures’ who’d be being lashed as I worked! So I made a noncommittal sort of reply. “Well yes and no, ma’am. As you say, it’s hard to do without them these days. So I will confess, I am an owner. But I believe in treating slaves humanely – I have never whipped or lashed my slaves.”
We went on talking and then I had a brilliant idea. “Mrs Farrar, I can see you are disturbed about the state of the property – the trees and shrubs out the front certainly do not speak of the elegance and refinement inside. Might I suggest a possible solution? I will lend you my slave Reb to work on the grounds – you will be able to see that he is well treated, and that he will work hard without the need for punishment.”
“I’m not sure, Mr Masters. The other problem with slaves doing yard work is…. Is…. Well, the unnecessary exposure… The copmanies seem to believe that the poor creatures are not
even in need of a scrap of cloth to cover their loins…”
“Oh you need have no fear of that! My slave Reb is always modestly dressed.” I smiled inwardly as I said this, knowing Reb would be delighted to hear that he’d have to be given stuff to work in. “Of course should the sun shine the slave would naturally wish to remove his shirt, as, if I may be so indelicate, the sweat would otherwise be a problem.”
“Of course, Mr Masters. I am glad that you appear to be able to have such a well-trained slave that he truly works – works hard. But I cannot possibly accept the use of a slave from you.”
I looked surprised, and she went on “…because I am depriving you of his use.”
“Oh, I can do without…”
“No, Mr Masters. I will insist on paying for the hire of the slave, so that you are not out of pocket: you can use the money for the innocent pleasures that I know young men like you indulge in.” I wondered what the fuck she meant by that, but the thought of getting money for Reb’s work sounded good. My negotiation skills came to the fore then as I struck a deal that was acceptable to both of us – she’d have been prepared to pay almost anything, but somehow it didn‘t seem to be fair to take more than double the minimum free man’s hourly rate, and we shook hands and I said that Reb would be there at eight the following morning.
“Will you accompany him, Mr Masters. Please? Accompany him and give him orders. It’s not proper for a lady…”
“Of course!” I said, but only then thought that I was going to have to walk there with Reb, and walk back afterwards.
When I got back to Jake’s place Reb was lounging around watching TV, and I told him to get stuck in and to start making dinner – he protested a bit, but I pointed out that he certainly knew more about it than I did as he’d spent time watching Mrs Williams, and that in any case this sort of stuff was slave’s work.
“Oh, so you’ll be learning it soon then”, Reb added. But I could see he was joking – well, at least I think he was.
Over dinner I told Jake and Reb about how I’d rented Reb out for the day so there would be some money coming in, and Jake agreed to look out suitable clothes – jeans, a T, sweat shirt, etc., for him to wear.
Jake and I fucked that night – I felt so much better now I had some sort of hope for the future that the moment we were naked together I simply couldn‘t keep my hands off Jake. Afterwards after I’d got up to wash my dick and Jake had joined me to clean up his ass, I told him that if we were going to live together it mightn’t be a bad thing if he always flushed himself out first before bed as I hated getting up after fucking and preferred to cuddle up and go to sleep. “After all”, I added “I was getting Reb to do that…”
“…and I’m not your slave!”, Jake retorted. “If you want to fuck me, Steve, take the consequences.” And we both laughed, and fell back into bed.
Reb was stubborn in the morning – he always was difficult to wake up, as I’ve told you. And he wasn’t all that pleased to have to walk out to Mrs Farrar’s place before starting work – I wasn‘t all that happy, either, as to ‘play the part’ I’d worn a running vest and jogging trainers as my story would be that I’d run there for exercise rather than using my pony trap. But when we got to Mrs Farrar’s the housekeeper lady had a gigantic breakfast prepared for us!
Reb of course wanted a huge plate of sausage and bacon and eggs and toast, but as I went to help myself to some, he called out “Steve, should you be eating? You’ve got to run all the way back home….”
“Oh, how delightful”, Mrs Farrar chirruped. “Such a wonderful relationship with your slave, Mr Masters – you are so democratic, to allow him to use a familiar name! And he cares for you so much – indeed, if you are running this morning you must certainly not eat a huge breakfast, as it is very bad to exercise on a full stomach.”
As we went out then to see what was to be done I saw Reb smirking, and I whispered “You’ll pay for that, Reb!”
I did at least get a cup of coffee before I set out back to Jake’s, and when I ran back at the end of the day I was amazed at the transformation – the house now looked halfway respectable. And there was Reb, still working away – sawing up some of the branches he’d trimmed off the shrubs and things, and carrying them away.
Mrs Farrar seemed delighted. “He’s wonderful, Mr Masters”, she told me. “I even found it possible to ask him to mind the bulbs which are just beginning to show, and he was so courteous. The only thing is…. Well, he’s made such a difference! But there’s still a lot to do.”
“Would you allow me to lend him to you all week?”
“Oh, would you? But I will insist on paying…. And he cannot of course stay here overnight – it’s one thing to hire a service, but it would be quite improper for me to house a slave.”
I groaned inwardly at the thought of running backwards and forwards twice each day, but I needed the money, so I smiled and acceded gracefully.
That night neither Jake nor Reb was not properly grateful for the efforts I’d made that day! I’d noticed that pizzas you buy in the food market were a whole lot cheaper than those you got from a pizza place, especially as they had some sort of ‘B O G O F’ offer, which I had to ask another shopper to explain to me. But they both said that after a hard day’s work a man needed ‘proper’ food. Jake said “Make something tomorrow, Steve – you’ve got not much else to do, after all” and Reb added “…or else we might have to punish you! A good spanking is usually enough to motivate guys like you.”, which Jake found hilarious and I thought was in very poor taste. I didn’t like the way they were seeing each other as ‘workers’ whereas I was something else.
Jake was going to Ray and Stu’s for his second job, and having discovered that they were going to be in – they came home every evening it seemed, except for Thursdays when they went to the club – I said I’d go with him. “After my job, are you, Steve? “ Jake asked, and Reb added “Shall I clip your pubes and shave you all over, Steve?” And both men laughed again, and I still didn’t think it very funny.
Ray and Stu told Jake he didn’t have to strip off and ‘work’ as I was with him, and when he started to insist they said they’d pay him anyway. Greg was there and the two men seemed still to be very affectionate with him, slapping him playfully on the ass as he moved around, and stroking his dick when he was eventually told to it down and sit still. “He’s so restless”, Stu complained. “Always wants to be on the go.”
“He’s a trained pony, that’s why. I guess they only select boys who are of that restless disposition for training as ‘fancies’ in the first place. Then they get pretty intensive training to run, and a guy like Greg is possibly missing actually working his muscles….”
“Oh no, Steve. Although he’s up here in the evening, he lives in the stables underneath and whilst we’re in the city he uses the gym…” Stu told me.
“I don’t think it’s enough though. It’s hard to work out in a gym, really work out, that is – hard to put as much effort in to it as you should. I bet Greg’s even feeling guilty that he doesn’t run as hard, or as far, as he knows a pony should…” I looked at Greg as I said this, and all of us caught his reaction as he looked down, as if wanting to avoid our eyes.
“I’ve got a proposition for you guys… I’ve met this lady…”
Stu and Ray both laughed “A lady, Steve? We assumed….”
“No, not like that! An old lady, a member of A A S S…”
“A lady with an ass? Are you going off proper sex with me?” Jake added, joining in the laughter.
“No – not ass. American Anti Slavery Society. She won’t own slaves, and won’t hire companies that mistreat – as she see it – slaves. And she won’t use taxis as she doesn’t like to see the ponies whipped… So my idea is that I hire Greg from you during the day, then I hire him out to the lady. It’s win-win-win: you get some return on your investment, Greg gets properly exercised, an old lady no loner has to use the bus….”
“And you make a profit!”, Ray added. “So tell me, Steve, why don’t we cut out the middle man? We could hire Greg out directly…”
“Firstly, you don’t know who she is or where she lives. I deserve some compensation as a ‘finder’s fee’, And secondly you don’t want all the bother – I’ve got to take him there, collect him, make sure he behaves…. And you’re off in the city all day.”
“Make him behave without the carriage whip…” Jake was sounding incredulous now.
“It doesn’t matter! You only need that when a ‘fancy’ has to be encouraged up a hill, or to run faster, or something. There’s no need to use it at all on Greg really, as he actually likes running, don’t you, Greg?”
“Uh, Greg, in future you’re going to have to call me ‘Steve’, not master…” I saw Ray and Stu looking curious and added “My client thinks owners and slaves should treat each other courteously…”
So it was agreed, and the next morning I took Reb, and drove Greg, out to Mrs Farrar’s place. Once Reb had breakfasted – and I could have some that day as Mrs Farrar could see I was not going to be running – I explained to her about ‘fancies’ and how a lady like her really needed a pony trap to go to and from the stores. After all, think of how difficult things would be were you to fall again and have to go to hospital with a broken hip, I suggested.
“You’re right, Mr Masters, of course. But I could not possibly have a naked slave running in front of me, or use a whip…”
“But that’s the beauty of a ‘fancy’, Mrs Farrar. The pony is as much for show, as for really hard work. And the one I have – Greg – would be ideal for a lady like you: he’s well trained, you wouldn’t expect him to run miles and miles as you merely wish to go to the stores, and to the library, and places like that, and so the use of a whip is totally unnecessary. Indeed, we can inspect his buttocks later and see that I have not used the whip on him…”
“Oh Mr Masters… Inspect the male buttocks….? No….”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. But you can ask Greg if he’s been severely punished since I’ve known him – indeed, he might tell you the sad tale of how I rescued him from his previous owner, who had cut his back and buttocks to pieces with the whip…”
“Oh, Mr Masters, I knew you were a good man. If only more young men like you would rescue these poor creatures…”
“Quite so. But, as I was saying, although it’s not uncommon for ‘fancies’ to be run naked, or with humiliating costumes like strips of ribbon tied around their genitalia to draw attention to them…” Mrs Farrar looked shocked so I hastily continued “There is absolutely no need of this! Indeed, you could set a new fashion with the other ladies by dressing Greg in appropriate costume – I have him in a smart leather jerkin today as the weather is cold…” Even as I said this, I remembered how the jerkin deliberately cut off just above Greg’s dick, so it jutted out rather cheekily.
“Well perhaps I should come and look at him….”
“He’s outside, but, as you said, it is rather cold, perhaps you need a coat…. And a blanket, if you want to take him for a sample ride?”
As she left the room I snapped at Reb “Get out there, and give Greg those briefs I saw you putting on this morning. You can work ‘commando’ today – but be careful your jeans don’t fall too far down as I don’t want complaints about them seeing your ass crack…”
“I don’t like working without support. And he won’t like it either! You know he doesn’t mind being naked – he’s a pony – and he likes to run free!”
“Reb, I don’t give a fuck what you like, or what Greg likes! We need the money. Now, get out there, strip off those briefs – discretely – and get them on Greg. And hide the fucking carriage whip! And remind Greg he’s to refer to me as ‘Steve’ – that at least should be simple for you to do!”
Actually Greg looked kind of sexy in the briefs – they were the rather thin ones that Jake took from work, so they didn’t do all that good a job of really hiding his tackle as there was a very pronounced bulge out in front, and I wondered if I should suggest to Ray and Stu that they got him to wear a pony pouch – a tiny one of course, so all his pubes would need shaving, and they were in to that for slaves – and a jerkin cut higher to expose the buttocks totally. But Mrs Farrar seemed to be happy, and she talked to Greg, and Greg called her ‘ma’am’ and managed to avoid referring to anything unpleasant like the habits of owners.
We went for a trial ride, and Mrs Farrar was sold! Indeed, she insisted on driving me into town – I couldn’t of course let her take me to Jake’s so we stopped at ‘The Towers’ and I pretended to walk into the lobby. But first I went and spoke to Greg quietly, telling him to make his own way back that evening and that I would see him in Ray and Stu’s apartment later. “And behave!”, I told him. “No fucking around with other ponies – even if your driver is in the stores! And if she wants to buy you a new uniform, go along with it – even if it means you have to run totally clothed! Or else it won’t be a carriage whip I’ll take to your hide… I’ve got a lot riding on this, Greg, so just do it right, OK? You own me and Jake, and now it’s payback time.”
I went to the food store then, and started to look for bargains. I was going to buy more pizza until I saw there were a lot of little recipe leaflets lying around. I read them with interest – this cooking stuff didn’t seem all that difficult as the leaflet told you all the stuff you needed to buy, and then it seemed to be a simple step-by-step list of what you have to do with it. So I junked the idea of buying pizza and went around the store with the leaflet in one hand and a basket in another.
That night Reb and Jake were properly appreciative of my efforts at chicken casserole – I’d done a whole lot more rice than the recipe suggested as Reb had been working really hard that day. I’d watched him in the shower when he’d got back from work and could see that his arms were covered in lots of little scratches and stuff, which he said was from clearing brambles. But it didn’t look as if my property was being permanently damaged, and I was glad of that as I knew it might come to having to sell him. He really was ‘easy on the eye’ in the shower, and I thought about fucking him, but was concerned that Jake might get home and would probably not understand that a young guy like me needs sex. However the good news was that Mrs Farrar had asked him to ask me if he could go back the next day “…and the next couple of weeks, if you ask me, Steve – the garden’s in a shocking state.” So things did look good.
Just after Reb had cleared away and Jake was getting ready to go off to Ray and Stu’s, there was a knock on the door. Jake opened it and a big guy came in, dumping a couple of huge bags in the tiny entryway. He threw his arms around Jake, then looked at me. “So is this your fuck toy kid then, little bro’?”, he asked Jake.
“Hey! Mind your language!”, I shouted. “Jake and me are…”
“Karl, he’s right! Shut the fuck up!” Jake added. “Steve and me are an item.”
I thrilled as I heard this, but it was too soon as he added “…at least for now. But what are you doing here?”
“I need to crash for a couple of weeks whilst I find a place of my own. So send your ’item’ or fuck toy or whatever he is home.” Karl stopped as Reb came out of the tiny kitchen. “And who’s this? Is that a slave brand on him? Have you come into money then?”
“This is Reb. Yes, he is a slave. But we don’t think of that here.”
“So he’s another fuck toy, is he?”
Reb almost flew at him. He grabbed Karl’s shirt at the neck and pulled his face close. “You heard Jake. Shut the fuck up! And if you ever call me a fuck toy again it will be your ass that will be getting the fucking! And I can – I’m a trained fighter, an ex-marine….”
Karl seemed to relax. “An ex-marine. Like me, then.”
“Ex-marine, Karl? What happened, bro’?” Jake demanded.
“New fucking rules! It’s got too expensive to train and equip real marines, so they’re going to use slaves in future – you don’t need to give them so much body armour and stuff as it doesn’t matter if they get injured. And it doesn’t cost so much to train them as you can use a whip on them if they don’t do well enough on the assault courses and stuff. So they’ve ‘terminated’ most of the guys like me – that’s what they call it – kicked us out. Anyone who isn’t a sergeant or above. Or, rather, they offered to let us stay but on the different terms – no salary, but a home, food…”
“You might wish you’d taken them up on that”, Jake said quietly. “At least you won’t be a slave. That’s what’s likely to happen to you now, as there are no jobs…”
“…especially for ex-marines”, Reb added. “I can tell you that, as it’s what happened to me.”
“I thought you were enslaved for fucking someone’s wife, Reb!”
“Well, Steve, technically, yes. But I can see that there’s no work here, or anywhere else. Not for guys like me, and I guess Karl.”
Karl grinned. “Hey, ‘technically’ fucking! You can show me how to do that some time. The bitches always complain that I’m too rough.”
“Like a proper marine!”, Reb added, and the two guys high-fived each other.
Jake went off to ‘work’ then and when he found out there was no beer in the house, Karl gave Reb a few notes and told him to go out and buy some. “It’s pretty useful having a slave, I reckon”, he said to me. “I’d have had to go out and do that myself, but having a slave like Reb is kind of neat. You must be a rich kid, I guess? So you’re slumming it with Jake?”
“I used to be.” And then I told him a potted history of what had gone on. “So I’m lucky to have found Jake. He and I are an ‘item’ – we were struggling before, but now we’re both poor, it’s great!” I looked at him seriously and went on “But is it irrevocable, leaving the marines? It might be better to be in, even without money, than be out and destitute, and worrying about being enslaved.”
“I’ll get a job. Jake seems to be doing all right. He’s got two.”
I thought about telling Karl what Jake was doing even as we were speaking, and even wondered what he’s look like in a thin chain and a ring – his jeans showed a respectable bulge, and I assumed he’d be built like Jake. But I was saved from this as Reb arrived back with the beer, and both guys then said they wanted to watch a game. ‘Plus ca change…’, I thought to myself, as once again I had to sit there and watch two men whooping and hollering as the thing went on.
Jake came home looking really tired. We needed to go to bed, but where was Karl to sleep? Jake didn’t seem to care. “There’s the couch there – it makes into a bed. Not a big one, and Reb’s been using it.”
“That’s OK. We’re both ex-marines. We can sleep anywhere.”
Karl said he wanted to shower and as he did so Reb fiddled around pulling the couch into a bed and tossing the sheets on to it. Karl came back then – towelling his hair casually, but otherwise totally naked. He seemed to be absolutely unembarrassed by the three of us there, and I realised that of course this was normal for him – he’d been living in a marines’ barracks until yesterday, and I guess they all walked around like that after a shower. I was right, too – he was hung like Jake. And as he turned I got the sight of his ass, that great ass that I’d only glimpsed before through the open door.
Neither he nor Reb seemed at all embarrassed at getting between the sheets together, and Jake and I left them. We kissed and cuddled but Jake didn’t want to fuck as he said he was too tired – I wanted to, as I was horny after making such good progress that day, so I thought about making him, but then decided I’d just jerk off. But after that it was hard to sleep – I could hear all kinds of noise coming from the living room, so I got up and went to tell them to cool it. But as I glanced through the half-open door I saw Reb and Karl lying there side by side on their backs, jerking themselves off! They’d got some porn on the TV, and the two of them seemed to be engaged in some sort of jerk-off contest!