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A story written by Pete Brown (Part 7 of 30). (Here you can find all the parts of this story.)


To tell you the truth I’d rather have stayed at home and done some more training of Reb – another session in the gym where I showed him he was beatable (if I chose the rules) would do him good. But I had to go and post dad’s letter, so I drove in and parked and went to the post office.

There was the usual long queue of slaves snaking out of the door, but the counter reserved from freeman was nearly empty, only one guy being served, as I suppose most people send their slaves to do posting and stuff like that. When I got closer though I saw that the guy at the counter was wearing a slave collar – he’d flouted the rules. “Out of my way, you fucking slave”, I shouted. “Are you so stupid that you can’t read the sign that says this counter is reserved for free men, or did you think that for some reason it did not apply to you?”

“Please, sir”, he whined “I’m nearly done, and my master is waiting and….”

“Fuck off! If your owner wants quick service, tell him to come in himself, as I’m doing.”

The slave looked as if he was going to argue or say something again, so I beckoned to the security guard, who came over. “Have this slave removed”, I said. “Free men should not have to wait.” The guard got his prod out, and the slave got the message, and went out. “He’s lucky, sir, that you called me over – some men get so angry they get violent with slaves like that!”

I was amazed at how expensive the special delivery was on dad’s letter, but the clerk explained that stuff to the Cayman Islands always attracted a surcharge, so that was that. Dad can afford it, after all. As I was leaving the post office who should be coming in but Jacob, the guard who’d basically done all the work of selling Reb to me yesterday. He was looking very smart, in a well-cut polo shirt and chinos, and looked almost like a fashion model he was so ruggedly handsome. He saw me, smiled, then stopped, as did I.

“So how’s the slave going, sir?”

“Fine, Jacob… He’s going to be tough to train, I think, but I can manage it.”

“My friends call me Jake. Jacob’s a bit ethnic I find, and tends to put people who don’t know me off, so I’m Jake when I’m not on duty…. Sir.”

“I’m Steve”, I said, sticking out my hand to shake, really rather pleased that this guy had remembered me and now wanted to talk. “Steven really, but Steve to friends.”

“Well good on you, Steve. I rather thought yesterday that you were taking on more than you could handle – there’s a world of difference from all that book learning you seem to have done and the practical aspects of slave training and management. So it’s going well…

He must have been a great ride?”

“I didn’t buy him as a pony”, I replied, rather puzzled, as even if I did intend to use Reb as a pony sometimes, it would be with a trap – I know some owners to ride the shoulders of ponies, but there’s no way I could really do this as I’m quite a big guy and quite heavy.

Jake laughed. “I meant how did it feel, when you mounted him…” He lowered his voice and added “I didn’t like to use the straightforward ‘fuck’ in a public place. He struck me as a slave who wouldn’t take kindly to losing his cherry, and I expect you needed to chain him down?”

“I haven’t fucked Reb”. I wanted to show Jake how broadminded I was by not using euphemisms, to impress him. But as I said this it occurred to me that perhaps Jake knew that all owners fucked their slaves, so I was the ‘odd man out’ and I’d be like the one guy in the frat who didn’t own a slave – I’d never know I’d done something wrong as I had no practical experience. So, to show my good intentions, I added “….yet.”

Jake looked a little worried. “You and I need to talk a bit, Steve. It’s a big mistake not to fuck a slave the moment you get him, especially one like that Reb. Quite apart from the fact that he’s got an ass any man would want to plunder, you’re not being very fair to him….”

“Being fair? To a slave? To fuck him?”

“Steve, you’ve got to remember that Reb was until recently free. He was a marine. He was self-assured, confident, probably other guys in his unit – especially the younger ones – respected him as a real man. Then he was enslaved, and in quick succession he was sold off, humiliated by having to display his body to you, branded, tattooed with his SIN, had his pubes clipped away… All to turn him into a ‘proper’ slave who understood his new position. But inside he probably still thinks of himself as a ‘man’, not a slave. A wise owner wants to get him to totally accept that his world has changed – it’s obviously good for the owner who gets obedience sooner, but it’s good for the slave, too, who can start to lead his new life properly instead of hankering after things he will never have again. The best way of moving the slave on, especially one like Reb, is to fuck him – he had a reputation a a cocksman, didn’t he? A man who was on top, in control of the bitches? Well, once his owner fucks him, and fucks him hard, he’ll begin to realise that it’s his owner who now is on top – literally!

“I didn’t know…. They don’t say that in the books….”

“Well I’d have thought it was obvious anyway, if you think about it. How does one man control another?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I suppose my dad does it because he’s a partner at his law firm, and all the associates and paralegals and secretaries have to do what he says, or they lose their jobs.”

“Well that’s not going to work for slaves, is it? They can’t lose their jobs.”

I nodded, and Jake smiled. “Are you doing anything now? Want to come for a drink? there’s a bar around the corner I use all the time – and I’ll tell you more about slavery?”

“Aren’t you at work?”

“Sure – but I work shifts, so I was around yesterday when you came into good old S & D. Today I’m on ‘lates’ and don’t have to be there until ten.”

I was excited by the offer as the more of saw of Jake and the more I heard of his sophisticated talk, the more I wanted to spend time with him. I’d never been in a bar before – its illegal until you’re 21 in our state – so going there would itself be a new experience. “Great, thanks!”, I told him, and Jake slapped me on the back just as if I was an old buddy, which made me feel really good, and we went out.

Jake led me two blocks off Main Street, and it looked a bit seedy, frankly, and when he turned down an alley between two shabby buildings I was really apprehensive, but Jake seemed to be totally confident, so I followed. He stopped at a heavy metal door, and pressed a bell. This didn’t look like the sort of bar I’d seen dad in with his sophisticated clients, I must say!

The door opened and we went into a small entrance lobby, with a big, heavily muscled guy wearing an athletic vest just as I had that morning – and stretched as tight over his body as Reb’s shorts had been – standing behind a counter.

“Hi, Jake.”, he said cheerfully, and I began to relax. This wasn’t the sort of behaviour you’d get from a kidnapper, I thought – yes, I had been worried about that, I can tell you: dad was always telling me to watch out, as I could easily be a kidnap victim, held for a huge ransom from dad.

“Guest here”, Jake responded, indicating me. “I’d like to sign my buddy Steve in.”

I thrilled as I heard myself called that. But then the guy looked at me and asked “How old are you, son?” So, OK, I know I looked a lot younger than Jake who had that maturity you get when a guy is in his early twenties, so now I had a problem. Did I lie, and possibly get some further questions that I couldn’t answer, and would get caught out and look stupid? So I muttered “I’ll be eighteen, soon.”

“Sorry, Jake. You know the law! No guests under 21.”

Jake smiled and slipped the guy a couple of new dollars. “Oh, sorry! I meant that I needed to bring my slave in, but forgot his collar. Can you help?”

The guy delved under the counter and brought out a standard leather slave collar, and handed it to me. I went to put it around my neck as I understood what was going on – as a free man I couldn’t enter until I was 21, but presumably a slave was acceptable at any time.

Jake gripped my wrist. “No, Steve – a man should never put a slave collar on himself.” As he said this, Jake took the collar and placed it around my neck, then fiddled with the clasp until I heard it click. We were standing so close that I could feel the warmth of Jake’s body and catch a faint scent of his sweat. His hands were warm against the skin of my neck. I could feel my dick starting to rise at the sheer maleness of Jake, and the excitement of the situation.

“OK, shirt, please” the guy said, not at all in an unfriendly or threatening way. “At the club ‘slaves’ are always bare-chested.”

I hesitated, until Jake said “It’s OK, Steve – you’ll get it back when you head out. You look a pretty fit guy, and I shouldn’t think you’re embarrassed by your body, are you?”

It felt so strange to be talking like this, but I wanted to appear mature and sophisticated to Jake, so I muttered “No, of course not.”

Jake took a step towards me again, and to my astonishment reached down and tugged my polo shirt up – he kept lifting it until almost as if by reflex I raised my arms so he could slip it right up over my head. I stood there then and Jake muttered “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Don’t you go to the beach and places like that where good looking fit young guys go around without shirts?”

He didn’t give me chance to answer as he tossed my shirt to the guy, and led me through the door leading out of the lobby into what must be the bar.

It was a proper bar, I suppose, as there was a long counter down one side of the room with bottles and glasses behind it, and a couple of bartenders – I supposed they must be real slaves, as they too were bare-chested. The opposite side of the room was divided into booths with leather seats across tables, and Jake led me to one of these, and we sat down. I looked around and saw that all the other people in there were men – a lot in their twenties, like Jake, but some looked as old as dad, or older. They were mostly free men, as I now assumed that at this place it was slaves who were bare-chested, but they were in a variety of different clothes – a few suits, a lot of those expensive casual things you see around, and some men even in jeans and rough work shirts. The lighting was dim, and the men seemed to be standing quite close together, talking in low voices.

A waiter came up – a slave, as you’d expect, but a real one, not like me. He was about my age, I thought, and he was naked except for a tiny loincloth hung by a piece of thin rope around his waist. He leaned over with a damp cloth to wipe over our table, and as he did I saw his dick was ‘skinned, and that he’d had all his pubes shaved off. Jake saw me looking, and told me “City ordinance – all slaves engaged in the preparation or serving of food or drink must be shaved, to avoid the possibility of a hair in the customer’s food. And you know about the city ordinance about nudity in the city centre, from your experience yesterday – well, it’s the same with bars.”

The slave was standing there quietly now, feet slightly apart, head bowed. “Two large beers”, Jake ordered, and the slave trotted off – he had a cute butt, I noticed, with those dimples some guys have at the base of the spine. I didn’t like to tell Jake I didn’t drink beer, only the occasional glass of wine with dinner – he’d probably think I was a wimp.

Jake sat back, looking totally relaxed. He put his arm around my bare shoulders and started talking, just as if it was the most natural thing in the world for one guy to be sitting there with another half-naked one. “So, Steve, a slave like Reb is likely to be a real handful, you know. That’s why no-one bought him before and the price was so low as it’s only somewhere like the mines that can use a slave like that. What did your dad think?”

“Uh? Well, he liked Reb – they watched the soccer game together…”

“Steve, that’s stupid! Reb isn’t part of the family, or some buddy of your dad’s. He’s a slave. If you don’t treat him like one, he’ll start to get ideas that he’s still free. And that’s what I was telling you earlier – you need to fuck him, and fuck him hard: even if he gets to the point of understanding intellectually that he’s not a ‘man’ any longer, his body needs to ‘know’ that. Owners don’t only fuck slaves for pleasure, you know – they do it because they know that this is what is needed to confirm their authority over the slave.”

The cute young waiter placed beers in front of us, and Jake took a long draught of his, and waited expectantly for me to do the same. Then he continued “It’s the same with the cane and the whip – powerful physical influences on the slave‘s body’s deep understanding. Not so many owners get pleasure from it and I only know a few guys who beat slaves for fun, but the principle holds good.”

“You mean I could whip and cane Reb, rather than fuck him….”

“Sure. It takes longer to get the message over, and it’s not so much fun. But why would a virile young guy like you do that? When I saw Reb yesterday my dick wanted its time up his ass – we’re not allowed to fuck them on duty, of course – but if he’d still been in the pens last night I’d have been there. So as his owner, and you look to me like a guy who’s keenly interested in maters sexual….”

I took another big draught of beer to buy time to think. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp, but I wasn’t used to the idea of talking to another guy – especially a sophisticated, experienced one like Jake – about sex. My dick was painful as it pressed against my shorts as I thought about fucking, and to cover my confusion and to try to get out of the situation I muttered “Sorry, but I’ve got to go and pee… I was pretty full already, and the beer…”

“Over there…”. Jake indicated a door in the far corner, and took his arm from around my shoulders. I got up and made my way towards the door, and I couldn’t help noticing how a lot of the other guys in the bar stared at me as I passed between them. I wondered if this was how Reb felt as he saw me watching him – but at least I’d got my shorts on and was not entirely naked.

The rest room was as dimly lit as the rest of the place. I made my way over to the urinals and fumbled with my fly to get my dick out, but as I did so two guys came in and stood at the next one – stood together! I couldn’t help watching as they put their arms around each others shoulders to hold themselves close, then both of them got out their dicks and began pissing into the same stall! Look, I know all of us have at some time or other sneaked a peek at the dick of another guy standing next to you, but only a very quick one so you hope he doesn’t notice. But these two guys were staring at each others dicks as they pissed, and were even playing little games – directing their streams of piss to merge together, and stuff like that. I quite forgot about my need to piss, and simply watched them in fascination.

I could hardly believe it when as their streams dried to a dribble and then stopped they each expressed the last few drops out of the others dick! Fancy doing that totally intimate thing for another guy, and in a public place!

Suddenly I realised they’d seen me, seen me staring at them. They didn’t appear to be angry or anything, but broke their embrace and came and stood either side of me. One put his arm around my shoulders to hold me, and said “So, boy, you like dick, do you?”

“I’m not a slave…. Let me go!”

“We saw you watching us, so it’s our turn now, isn’t it? Start pissing!”

“Please, let me go!” I was panicking now. There was no way I could start to piss with them not only watching me but pressed so close.

“I reckon the slave boy needs a bit of help, don’t you?” I felt the grip around my shoulders tighten, and the next moment the guy who was not holding me bent down slightly and pulled my shorts down. I felt them pool around my ankles.

“Nice underwear”, the other commented. “His owner clearly likes a bit of titillation when he strips… But I don’t think it’s proper for a slave boy to wear stuff like this….” I felt my boxers being pulled and then fall to the floor, so now I as totally naked. The rough wool and harsh denim of the guy’s work shirts and cheap jeans were scratching my body.

“Stop it! I’m not a slave! You can’t do this to me! I’m a guest here, Jake brought me…”

The men laughed. “Typical Jake. Lures some nice boy in here, then doesn’t take proper care of him. I reckon we ought to do Jake a favour and help his boy out, don’t you?” As he said this, a hand went around my dick and balls, and another rested on my butt. “OK, boy, nothing to be frightened about – you needed to piss, so just let it go….”

I couldn’t. I’d never had a hand on my dick before, never had to do anything like this with other people watching. “No, please…. Please, I can’t… Please, fetch Jake….”

The hand resting on my butt started to explore – squeezing my butt cheeks, then probing down my crack with a finger. I tried to fight them, wriggled and squirmed, but it was no use – the guy holding my shoulders tightened his grip, and the hand holding my dick dropped a little so that fingers cupped under my balls. “Stop this nonsense, boy” – the guy’s voice sounded more menacing now. I didn’t, though, and then to my relief the finger down my crack was withdrawn – but then there was a slap as his hand hit my butt, hard. I cried out in pain and embarrassment.

“Now, boy, just do as you’re told, like a good little slave boy. Piss for us, unless you’d like more punishment….”

I still couldn’t. You all know how it is – you can be desperate for a pee, but if there’s someone watching you, you simply can’t.

“Now, boy, we’re going to help you, then.” The voice was soft and low and sort of reassuring, the guy’s mouth pressed close to my ear. “Don’t be stupid, don’t try to fight it, or we’ll have to slap that gorgeous butt of yours again, and harder this time….” As he said this the finger started down my butt crack again. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get hurt. I knew I couldn’t break away from the two guys. As all these thoughts were racing through my head my whole body jerked as the finger found my pucker, and started to probe at it gently. “Please, please, no, no….” I cried out.

“I reckon he’s a virgin”, the guy told his companion. “Very tight here, very tight indeed. We’d better not upset Jake, as the lucky bastard’s probably got plans for this asshole.” The other guy muttered agreement, then added “But the boy needs to piss – and I want to watch. We still need to help him….”

The finger moved on, then I felt it scratching gently, oh so gently, at that sensitive area between my asshole and the back of my sac. In spite of my terror, anger, confusion, and shame I heard myself give a sigh. The two guys heard it, too, and the voice in my ear whispered “That’s good, isn’t it? Every guy likes his taint played with, and it’s often a trigger to the bladder… See, we know how to treat a boy well… Come on, start to piss, it’ll be easy as we massage you….” And of course it was – well at least a few dribbles started to flow, then once that had happened you all know how it works: it was as if someone had opened a valve and my piss started to hose out.

The guy holding my dick played with me then, as he directed the flow up and down and around the urinal, and both guys were laughing, saying what a good dick I had, and how I’d make excellent sport once I’d been properly trained.

The flow stopped eventually of course, and then my ‘skin was teased back, and both guys admired my dick head. I was red with embarrassment, and I felt tears welling up – oh fuck me, I couldn’t let them see me do that, could I?

“That fucking Jake, he can choose them, can’t he? Nice dick, and unskinned, and a nice cock head….” I heard one of them tell the other.

“Please, oh please….” I stuttered. “Please let me go…”

One of them slapped my butt again, but kind of gently this time, almost as if it was some sort of affectionate gesture. “Pull your stuff up, boy, and let’s get you back to Jake, then” they told me. “There’s some not very nice guys in this place, men who prey on young guys like you. You’re lucky you met us…”

My only consolation as I bent down to pull up my boxers and shorts was that the light was so dim that I doubted that they could see my ass properly – or indeed see my face burning bright red, and my eyes brimming with tears. Before I knew it one of them had an arm around my shoulders again – the scratchy wool again against my bare skin, and I was led out of the rest room.

We got back to the booth where Jake was sitting, and one of the guys sounded quite cross. “You stupid fucker, Jake, letting your latest boy run around free in here! The kid’s terrified – it’s just as well Ray and me were in there, and not some of the guys we can think of!”

“Are you OK, Steve?”, Jake immediately asked, getting to his feet so that all four of us were standing there.

“No these bastards stripped me, played with my dick, fingered my ass…”

“We were only playing, Jake. You know us – it’s hard to resist a cute young boy like this.”

“Your games can be too fucking rough, Stu! Look at him – he’s shaking.” Jake sounded really angry as he said this, then he changed his tone and said to me, almost casually as if it was a matter almost of no importance. “No harm done, eh, Steve? Ray and Stu were only doing the same sort of stuff as you were doing with Reb yesterday…”

I as really angry now. “Reb’s a slave! I was buying him! What would he expect to happen to him? An owner needs to make sure a slave is in good condition. These apes assaulted me, abused me – look at them: fucking rough manual labourers! The sooner we get rid of the last of them the better and have slaves do that work, and when I go to the police and tell them what happened there’ll be two less of them and two more slaves working on the highways or wherever….”

Jake just laughed. “Oh Steve, you’re so naive. Ray and Stu both work in the city, they’re high-powered types, probably earn twenty times what I do. Those are their play clothes, aren’t they, guys?” Ray and Stu both nodded, and started smiling. “And the cops will not listen to you – as far as they’re concerned what goes on in this club stays in this club – it’s members only, as you saw at the door, and so they reckon that if you’re in here you know what you’re doing.”

Ray gave a laugh then, and cut in. “The boy’s fucking rude, Jake, accusing me of being a labourer! I’ve a good mind to sue him for defamation – I can easily get one of my legal associates to draw up the charges…. The Courts would believe me as a member of the Bar, and with Stu here, such a respectable CFO, he’d be found guilty. But perhaps I’ll settle for something else – he has a cute butt, and I enjoyed slapping it a moment ago to control him…

Perhaps he needs a good spanking….? I don’t know where they train slaves these days, but this one certainly needs a lesson in manners!”

“I’m not a slave! I’m Steve Masters, a free man, and my dad’s a member of the Bar, as you say you are!”

Ray looked at me “Are you the son of one of the partners at Crevath, James, Swaine and Masters, then?”

“Yes! That’s dad, and when I tell him about this, he’ll get you disbarred….”

Ray laughed again. “Sure, your dad will love to appear in Court and tell everyone how his son was cruising in a gay bar, then wasn’t able to handle it. I don’t think so, somehow! Having litigated against him I know he’s pretty ruthless – I’d think he’d probably give your ass a good spanking instead of me having to do it…”

“Hey, Ray, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll hold him down”, Stu added.

“No one’s touching Steve!”, Jake said calmly. “Now, come on, guys, all of you – it was just a bit of harmless fun. No harm done, except to Steve’s pride here, possibly, and I reckon that’s no bad thing as I saw him in action yesterday and he’s a bit of an arrogant young sod.”

“No I’m not!”

“See?”, Jake countered, and he, Stu and Ray all burst out laughing.

Stu reached out his hand. “Come on, Steve, lighten up a bit! If that’s the worst that ever happens to you… Let me and Ray buy you another beer….” I could see the guy was sincere and, actually, I was a bit worried about Ray knowing dad. So I reached out and we shook – and as his firm hand was in mine I suddenly thought that only a couple of minutes ago it had been around my dick. Ray then shook my hand, and pretended it hurt him as he’d injured it on my butt as it was so firm, and we all sat down, Jake next to me, and Ray and Stu opposite.

Ray signalled the waiter by snapping his fingers in the air loudly, then when the slave scurried over ordered four more large beers, without even asking Jake and me what we wanted. I could see that underneath the rough clothes he was indeed probably a lawyer, as dad did stuff like that.

“So how did you two meet?”, Ray asked, and Jake explained that he’d dealt with me yesterday when I was out shopping for a slave, and that we’d bumped into each other earlier, and that he’d invited me for a drink so that he could explain more about slave training. “Fucking stupid of me, actually”, he said. “I simply didn’t think of the effect of bringing a cute guy like Steve in here!”

“Oh, so you two are not an ‘item’?” Stu asked. “There’s hope for me and Ray with Steve here, then – we’re looking for a new boy…”

“I told you I’m not a slave!”

“Cool it, Steve!”, Jake put is arm around my shoulders again as he said this. You don’t know what you’re talking about, again. “Ray and Stu are looking for someone to join them in their play – when they get home from Wall Street they like to dress up like that and go looking for companions for the evening.”

“Yes”, Stu added. “We prefer working men, labourers, mechanics, guys like that, so we dress like this as we don’t want to scare them with our suits and silk ties. Actually, you wouldn’t do for us – you’re a bit too well-educated, by the sounds of you…”

The waiter came back at that moment holding a tray with four huge beers on it, and he balanced it one hand as he leaned over to again wipe t table with the cloth in the other. Once again I got a glimpse of his dick as the tiny loincloth swung aside. I noticed that Ray and Stu did too, as the moment he’d put the glasses down they caught hold of him and hauled him across to sit between them. He sat there not even looking even vaguely apprehensive, and didn’t object at all as Ray pulled his loincloth off so that he was entirely bare, then rested his hand on the guy’s dick.

Jake held me tighter, and I couldn’t help but see that the waiter was about the same build as me, and probably about the same age: we might have been cousins, or something You could tell he was a slave, though, as, like Reb, he was branded on the shoulder. Stu now curled his arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Jake’s was around mine, but he reached further around and started to gently tease at the boy’s nipple. Far from being angry the slave seemed to like it, as he leant across and kissed Stu, full on the lips!

Ray started to stroke the waiter’s dick then and the slave was rampantly erect almost instantly. Stu broke off his kissing, and pushed the slave’s head down towards Ray’s crotch. The slave fumbled with the zipper of Ray’s jeans, pulled Ray’s dick out – which was difficult as Ray was erect, too, and you know how messy it is as your dick always seems to get entangled in the zipper, doesn’t it? The slave then bent lower and began to lick at it as he stroked it gently.

“Fancy this one?” Ray asked Stu, and when Stu nodded, Ray told him to “go and make arrangements”.

Ray didn’t seem to be paying much attention to us as he sat there with the slave sucking his dick, as his eyes were on Stu who was at the bar talking to the barman. I was aware that Jake’s fingers were playing with my nip now as the slave’s had been, and I wriggled uneasily as I have sensitive nips. “OK, Steve?”, Jake whispered in my ear, then, as to my astonishment he nibbled my earlobe.

Stu was back by then, he nodded at Ray, and Ray pushed the slave off his dick, Stu pulled the guy to his feet, then all three of them walked across the bar towards the door, with Stu and Ray waving a goodbye at us.

“What the fuck…?”

“They’ve picked the guy they want to ‘play’ with tonight – normally they go for guys, free men, not slaves. About their own age, who are, as they told you, ‘blue collar’: I expect it makes a nice change for them after working all day at their fancy jobs. There’s not a lot of guys like that in here tonight, though, so after that little encounter with you I expect they felt that a change of pace might be nice – did you see how much like you that slave was?”

I nodded, and Jake continued “See what an effect you have on people, Steve! They liked your cute butt, and the slave’s wasn’t bad as far as I could see when they left. So Stu went over and hired him from the barman.”

Seeing me looking incredulous, he went on “He’s a lucky guy, that slave. Not only are Stu and Ray really nice guys – they like ‘rough’ but they don’t really play all that hard; they’ve got good bodies under those clothes: they both put a lot of time in at the gym; but best of all for the slave, they’re big tippers and the slave will have a nice little addition to his funds if he plays his cards right. And judging from the way he knew what to do with Ray’s dick, I expect he will know how to please them, please them both. It’s not jut a win-win situation, but win-win-win.”

“How do you know all this, Jake?”

Jake tweaked my nip again, and I wriggled excitedly. “You are naive, Steve! You really are! Couldn’t you tell from the way we were together that Ray and Stu took me home a few times, like that slave boy?”

I was kind of shocked. “And they’re big tippers? They gave you money?”

“Sure. Why not? They’ve got lots, I was new in town and was trying to fit up a place to live, and it’s not cheap around here, you know. So why shouldn’t I take money from them?”

“So you’re a whore?”

Jake’s grip on my shoulder slackened. “I ought to beat the shit out of you, Steve! A lot of guys would if you called them that. But I‘ll put it down to your naivety. You don’t get it, do you? We all had fun together – three guys all playing, all getting something out of it. And at the end they wanted to help me – I didn’t just go to their place, you know, they came to mine too, and saw I needed things. They enjoyed spending money on me, Steve: they’ve got everything they want, and shopping is boring – but shopping for stuff for me, it gave them another thrill! Win-win-win as I said.”

“But the slave’s got no need for money – I guess Stu was paying the barman for the slave’s time? What would the slave do with the tip – a slave’s got nothing to spend it on….”

“Steve, you told me you read all about slavery, you knew what it’s about…. You must know about slave co-ops?” I shook my head. “Well, I’m sure you do know that slavery’s final – once a slave, always a slave. But there are the co-ops: think of them as a corporation who can buy a slave, but the co-op is run by the slaves themselves – well, almost: there have to be free men at the top of course, but they’re well-meaning people, interested in slave welfare. If a slave can accumulate enough money he can get a co-op to buy him, then for the rest of his life everything’s much easier as the co-op owns him: he can’t be sold again, can’t be sent down the mines when he’s too old for any other type of work, can’t be punished by whipping, all that sort of stuff.” I nodded. “Anyway, slaves are lucky to get jobs as waiters here: any of the guys who can’t find another guy can always use a waiter, and most of us tip them, so they have real opportunities to save for a co-op membership. I reckon it’s one of the best jobs around for a slave, because of that.”

I was astonished, and wanted to ask more. But Jake pulled me close to him again – I kind of liked being held like that, it made me feel secure. “Anyway, Steve, you were going to tell me about how you’re getting on with Reb. You said you’d started training him. So how was that fantastic ass of his?”

Jake pulled his face a little away from mine as he saw me looking puzzled. “You did start to soften up his hole, didn’t you? Even if you didn’t want to fuck him?”

“Look, I’m not a fag….”

“Steve, it’s not polite to use that word, especially not in here! Some guys prefer other guys, and there’s no need to be abusive.” He loosened his grip on me, as if to let me go, and I found myself wanting to push myself back close to him. “But I should have expected it, I suppose – a good looking guy like you, a real jock… I bet you’re on a lot of school teams, and the girls all put out for you…?”

“Yes, I’m the captain of swimming, in the hockey, I do pretty well at track and field, tennis….

But the girls don’t ‘put out for me’, as you seem to think. That sort of thing doesn’t happen at our school – they’re all nice girls.”

Jake laughed. Laughed and laughed. “Steve, either you’re incredibly naive, or you’re lying!

…Or perhaps your fooling yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“All girls – nice or not – would go for a guy like you. Rich dad, a real jock, handsome…. And I bet there are guys in your class who do have girlfriends?”

“My best buddy does, Bobby….” I stopped, as I realised there were others, too.

“So either you’re naive in thinking it doesn’t go on at your school. Or you’re lying to me, and you’ve had lots of girls….”

“Honestly, no!”

“Then you’re deceiving yourself, Steve. You’re sending out signals to the girls saying you’re not interested. But you don’t want to admit that, so you put up this smokescreen by telling everyone ‘I’m not a fag…’ every minute. But I saw you yesterday, Steve. I saw how your body was reacting to handling Reb. Was that the first time you’ve felt another guy’s body like that?”

“Yes”, I mumbled, sort of looking down, as I was kind of ashamed.

“Oh Steve, I’m so sorry… Sorry for you, that is. I was like you at one time, afraid to admit that other guys turned me on. I know how tough it is, always having to hide your real emotions, always having to pretend to be something you’re not….”

I sniffed loudly, several times, trying to hold back the tears.

Jake pulled me closer to him once more, turned his face towards me so he could look directly at me and said quietly “So here you are, Steve. Almost eighteen. Still a virgin. Never been with another guy, never enjoyed feeling another guy’s body against yours. Never been able to express yourself properly. Always worried that someone – like that buddy of yours – will realise that you’re not ‘the same’ as him. Always scared someone might accuse you of being a ‘fag’, so you always have to overreact….”

“Yes”, I said quietly. And I could feel the tears start to flow down my cheeks as this was the first time I’d ever been able to talk about this to someone else.

Jake reached up with his other hand and gently brushed the edge of his finger across my cheeks, wiping the tears away. “It’s OK, Steve. Really it is. So what are we going to do about it?”

I shook my head gently, s I didn’t know. “Well, Steve, let me tell you what won’t work: I think you bought Reb mostly because you like his body, and you thought you could fix some of this stuff by using a slave….”

“No. I need a slave for college…”

“There you are again, Steve, denying yourself. I bet your dad would get you a college slave, a nice young educated guy, like yourself, who could help out with your term paper, stuff like that. But instead you want a man, a real man, someone with a body, a big dick, a real personality, someone who’s seen life, like Reb. You’re hoping that you can satisfy your…your… ‘lust’ shall we say, although that’s not the right word… Try ’your natural desire to be with another man’, perhaps? You think you can get what you want from Reb, but you can’t.”

Very quietly, and miserably, I muttered “You may be right… I didn’t think of it like that…”

“At one level your brain did, Steve. But the Steve on top, the guy who wants to be in charge, that Steve won’t – or can’t – admit it. It won’t work, Steve: sure you can fuck Reb, play with his body… And you can make out that it’s OK to do that as it’s only going with a slave, and it’s not like ‘being a fag’ to fuck a slave. But it will never satisfy you, never totally satisfy you.”

“You need a man, Steve, a proper man, a man who can respond to you properly and fully, a man you can snuggle up to at night and confide in, a man you can share all your secrets with, and who will tell you all his. A slave will never be like that, Steve, so you’re fighting a losing battle – you’ve lost already, but you don’t know it yet.”

I sat there in stunned silence. Jake still held me tight. Time seemed to stretch out, almost to stop.

“So, Steve”, he said quietly after some minutes, “What do you want to do? We can sit here and talk about slave management, then you can go home, and sooner or later you’ll fuck Reb, and later still you’ll know that wasn’t enough. You’ll probably get a wife, might even have kids, but deep inside you’ll know you’re a failure, won’t you, Steve? The one thing in life that really matters, you’ll never really have…. You’ll never be able to be true to yourself, as a real man is.”

“Or?” The whole of the room seemed to have been blotted out as I said this, as I felt icily calm and kind of happy – no, not happy, joyous.

Jake smiled at me. “Well done! You’re thinking that there is an alternative! That’s the first step. The second one is that we get up and get out of this seedy place, you come along with me to my place, and we do some serious talking – although I can’t guarantee there’ll be a lot of talking immediately, as I find you incredibly sexy, Steve!”

I pulled myself away from him and stood up. Jake looked surprised, until I said “So what are we waiting for, then?”

“You always like to be in charge, don’t you?” Jake laughed as he said this, a kind, gentle, laugh, a laugh that told me he really was a nice guy.

Hovering at the back of mind was still a niggling worry that had been there since I’d had the encounter earlier: that Ray would somehow bump into my dad at the Court and say something about me – dad’s razor sharp mind would make connections, as I suppose most people knew Ray was as he was. But as Jake put his arm around my shoulder again, this time to lead me out, I realised I didn’t care. Perhaps that’s step three.

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