A new story written by Pete Brown (Part 9 of 12 –> click here to read the other published chapters.)


Two nights later, after dinner, when Billy had made me lie on the couch so that he had a warm body to lie against, Carl said to him “Son, I’m getting a bit of cabin fever, stuck in every night. There’s one place you haven’t been yet, and I think it’s time we went. Every man needs to know how to enjoy causing pain to his partner, as well as pleasure. I know you’ve been giving Steve a bit of pain on occasions, but I think it’s time you were initiated properly.”

“Not everyone likes serious sessions of torturing men, but, as the man said about fucking donkeys, ‘don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it’. So I’ve booked us a room at the pain palace in town tonight, and I’ll show you a few of my favourite tricks on the slaves there, and see if you like it.”

“Can we take Steve, dad?”

“No, son. Only men are allowed in the pain palace, except for the poor wretches who are the entertainment, of course.  He’ll have to stay here.”

As usual, Carl wasn’t even thinking of me as a man – I was something else – a slave, an object.

Then Carl addressed me and said “Get in there and piss and crap! Make sure you empty yourself well. I don’t know if we’ll be back tonight – it depends on how much sport Billy finds it. I’ll chain you to the bed, as I’m required to when you’re alone, and I don’t want to come back and find that you’ve had to wet yourself.”

So I crapped and pissed out as much as I could, watched by Carl who was then impatient to leave – I’ve never been any good at doing my business watched by others, but of course I had no choice here.

I lay down on the bed, and Carl cuffed my left hand to the bed head.

“I’ll cuff your jerking-off hand”, he grinned, “So if we do come back early, you’ll still have a load of cum in you!”.

Then, laughing, he and Billy went out in to the night.

The cabin was eerily silent when they had left. I realised that I was alone for the first time in a long time. And in a bed, too, all by myself.  Typical of Carl, though, to notice that I always jerked off with my left hand, and to chain me by that wrist. It’s really awkward to jerk yourself off with the “wrong” hand, but I did….  But of course I couldn’t also catch my cum as it flew out, as my other hand was chained, and it shot across the undersheet, leaving a long, viscous streak.

I was worried in case it hadn’t dried by the time Carl and Billy got back, so I rolled into it, hoping that the warmth of my body would dry it out – the sheets were pretty stiff with all our cum after so many nights of activity, so if it did dry, it wouldn’t be noticed.

Carl and Billy didn’t come in until the dawn was almost rising, and they slept in each other’s arms, ignoring me totally. They slept late, and by the time they had woken up, I was dying to piss.  Funny, they didn’t have any of their normal sex romps that morning.

The next day, as we worked away in the hot sun, Carl was even less talkative than usual. He hardly spoke a word to me.

As we sat under the shade of a tree eating our lunch, he turned to me and said “Steve, I’m worried about Billy!”

“Last night at the pain palace he enjoyed it too goddamned much. I only took him there to show him what it was like, so that he would understand more about one facet of the family’s business, but I couldn’t drag him away. Of course I knew he would like some of the stuff – who doesn’t enjoy seeing a big stud having his ass spanked, or his back lightly whipped, before he’s fucked? But Billy wanted the whole scene, and it sure cost me a lot of dough last night.”

“Do you know how those places work?”

“No – I’ve only heard the other g… Slaves talking about them” (I was about to say “guys”, but knew that Carl would be confused as the only people I would have been talking to about the pain palaces were fellow slaves.)

“Well, it’s simple, really. You choose your slave from those on offer in the communal cage, just as if you’re going into a conventional sex parlour, and your bill is charged with the cost of that slave. Some slaves cost more than others, again just as in a conventional place, depending on their looks, age, physique, and whatever.”

“Then you go off into one or more of the special ‘treatment’ rooms., and do what you want with your slave. Some rooms are pretty simple – just a chair so you can put the slave over your knee to spank him, and a few fly swats and paddles to make his ass sting. Or a cross, so you can chain the slave up properly ready for a light whipping, and so on. Each time you go to a more complex room, your bill gets a hit.”

“Well, Billy chose this big slave – bigger than you – a couple of inches taller, I would say, with black hair and quite a lot of fur on his chest and body generally. He had a big cock, too, and low-hanging balls. I thought he was unsuitable if Billy wanted to do spanking and so on, as the slave was just too physically big for a l6 year old to handle properly. Even I would have had problems.”

“The cage master warned us about him, too, and suggested we take another. This guy was tough, he told us. He pointed out the USMC tattoos on his body as well as the normal ones from the Programme, and said that the slave’s previous marine training had toughened him to the extent that no one had broken him yet, so we wouldn’t have all that much fun – the slave hardly cried out at all during punishment.”

I sat listening, enthralled. Could he be talking about Mitch?

“The slave just stood there and watched us. He had dark brown eyes, and he just gazed at Billy as he told the cage master that he insisted that he had that one. I think he saw that a new kind of humiliation and punishment was in store for him – not just physical pain, but having it administered by a lad like Billy.”

“We went into the first room, and Billy wanted to spank the guy. Even I could see he was humiliated – that big, hunky ex-marine lying naked across Billy’s lap and being hit by Billy’s hand and then, when Billy tired and the slave had not uttered so much as a squeak even though I knew some of the slaps must have been quite painful – with the paddle. The poor guy’s ass was flaming red before Billy had had enough, and then Billy told him to kneel, and fucked him, doggy-fashion.”

“It must really have hurt the guy physically because his ass was then so tender and Billy doesn’t hold back, as you know. But I could tell by the way that his face as contorting that he was hurting inside, too – some men just can’t cope with being fucked by someone younger than themselves, especially someone so much younger.”

“In the second room Billy told the guards to put the slave into the pillory – it’s a special one, suspended from the ceiling, so that when the slave’s arms and neck are in it, the whole of the back and front of his body are fully exposed. Billy had never used a whip before, but he lashed away at the back and front of the guy, hoping to make him scream. He didn’t, of course, because I could see that what they had told us was true – this slave was not going to be broken by a boy!  Billy would have gone on and on except that the guards pointed out that the flesh was being broken – that’s not allowed, you know, as we can’t do permanent damage to the slaves under the Government contract for the Programme. I could see that Billy was disappointed, and he asked for a whip master to be brought in to explain the different uses of all the whips in the room.”

“He had the pillory lowered so the slave was bent almost double, and the slave’s ankles pushed apart and held there with a restraining bar.  This guy really was a prize specimen – his balls were hanging very low down between his thighs, and Billy then whipped them with one of the very small, thin whips that he had been shown. I don’t know how the slave stood it – even with all the restraints, his body jerked and twitched every time one of Billy’s blows struck. But still no cries from the slave.”

“Personally, I’d had enough. I like a good bit of man flesh in bed for sexual sport, and this pain thing doesn’t really turn me on. But I started to worry, because Billy seemed to be really enjoying it.”

“In the third room, they give the slave an enema as he goes in – they always let their bowels go in there, apparently, so the management flushes the slaves out thoroughly first to avoid soiling the equipment. Billy was really interested in how they did it so quickly and proficiently – I think he’s planning to experiment with you later in the week – and the slave was soon strapped, immobile, into the pain chair. Billy sat on the little wheeled stool that they use in there, and moved close to the slave. Next to him on a low table was the electrical stimulator, so he set it at “medium” and took the probes and started to explore the slave’s body.”

“The slave tried to jerk his whole body when the probes were touched to each nipple, but of course he was properly restrained and it was futile. The guards had offered to gag the slave as he was strapped in, but Billy had said he wanted to hear the screaming and had told them not to. But the slave made no sound – I could tell the guards were amazed, and they told me that it was only this slave who managed to stay silent in that room.”

“He didn’t even scream when Billy clipped one probe to his cock, then probed up his ass with the other.  Even when Billy suddenly twisted the power from ‘medium’ to ‘full’.”

“The slave actually passed out at that point, and the guards said it was pointless to continue – once the slave has passed out once in that room, even a lower level of power can cause him to do so again. It’s as if the slave’s body learns that the pain can be stopped by fainting, and so it does.”

“Billy didn’t believe the guards at first, and tried various other inventive combinations with the probes – in the slave’s navel with one, and gently probing at the fillings in his teeth with the other, for example.  And all he got was an inert body for his trouble.”

“That’s normally the end of a session in the pain palace, but there is – at a very high price – a fourth room. Billy insisted we had the slave taken there, and said that if I wouldn’t pay, he’d get the money from Jase.”

“We stopped to have a drink, and so that the doctor could look the slave over and make sure he could stand a session in room four. We gave him some time to recover, whilst Billy and I watched one of the “floor shows” they put on every hour or so – this time it was four big black slaves who were made to dance on a hot floor. They heat the floor so it doesn’t permanently damage the skin, but make it so hot you don’t want to stand on it. Then they push the slaves in and watch them jump up and down.           It’s quite amusing, really, to see them try to stop the pain by hopping around, but of course it doesn’t work. “

“When we went into the fourth room the slave was just standing there, shackled by one ankle to a ring in the floor and with his wrists held behind his head by manacles attached to a leather collar around his neck. He looked sort of pathetic, but defiant at the same time. I really felt sorry for him. There’s no fixed equipment in the fourth room, as they bring in whatever you ask for and you use it how you want on the slave.”

“Billy went over and inspected the guy carefully, feeling his muscles, twisting his tits, and opening his mouth and pulling his tongue out. I think the slave found all this very unnerving an demeaning, and he didn’t like being examined like a prize animal by Billy. He traced the slave’s marine tattoos with the tip of his finger, and asked the guy where he had served – but the slave wasn’t saying.  I could see Billy was getting cross with the man’s intransigence and general lack of co-operation.”

“In the end, once Billy decided to get started, it was quite quick to break the slave. He had a restraint chair brought in and the slave securely bound in it. The chair was jacked up, so that when Billy was sitting on a stool, the man’s cock was conveniently in front of him. Billy had a little stand pushed under the slave’s cock, and took a piece of Velcro and strapped the cock down, so it too couldn’t move. “

“It seemed that no-one else had thought of reaming out the slave’s urethra with a Q-tip dipped in a mild acid. As Billy compressed the slave’s cock head to open up his piss slit, the slave tried to get free but of course he couldn’t. Then when Billy did a “dry run”, just pushing a dry Q-tip up the cock for about an inch, the man was in agony – sweat broke out all over his body. But when Billy went in with the acid-soaked Q-tip, he broke, and screamed for Billy to stop.”

“Billy just sat there, and said ‘Slaves don’t command – they ask. Ask your master to stop, slave’”.

“The slave clearly wouldn’t, so Billy just wriggled the Q-tip a bit and pushed it in a bit higher, and when he had stopped screaming again, the slave managed to stutter out ‘Please, Master, don’t torture me any more’”.

“Billy looked pleased, and said to the slave ‘Do you acknowledge me as your master?’”

“After a long pause, when I thought Billy was going to start again, the slave muttered ‘Yes, Master’”.

“’Do you want me to fuck you?’”. “’Yes, Master’”.

“With that, the guards were told to untie the slave. I was very worried – when that great brute was free, I felt certain he would attack Billy. But Billy just looked at him, and said ‘ On your knees, and kiss your master’s feet’”.

“There was a huge tension in the air, and I could see the guy was in turmoil. But, amazingly, he did!”

“Then Billy told the guards to have him cleaned up, and taken to one of the bedrooms. I watched on closed circuit TV as Billy fucked him – the guards had been really worried about having the slave in there totally without chains or restraints, but Billy insisted that he had broken the guy and that he would cause no trouble – and he was right. The slave never bucked, or said anything, when Billy went up his ass.  But when Billy was finished and he allowed the slave up off his knees, I could see tears streaming down the poor guy’s face.  He must have been totally broken to be fucked without restraints when previously no-one had ever been able to touch him, but obviously he had been emotionally destroyed, too, given the tears. I don’t suppose a big ex-marine had cried since he was a small child.  When Billy left the room, the slave just continued to lie there on the bed, curled into a ball, hiding his head down against his body. ”.

“As we left, I think the management of the pain palace was a bit pissed off – that ex-marine had been one of their real star performers, and they had been able to charge a high price for him as he wouldn’t scream or break under normal punishment. But now it was known that he was broken, he had at least halved in value”.

“Steve, I’m really worried about Billy – I really didn’t like the way he went about breaking that slave, so calmly, so methodically. You ought to go to a pain palace to whip a slave to relieve some of the frustrations of the day, or give a man’s ass a good beating before you fuck him, to make him extra responsive to your needs. But calmly, deliberately enjoying extreme torture like that is not my way!”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do – I want him just to be a normal guy, enjoying a proper sex life, not some sort  of sadist always after new ways of causing pain.”

I felt really sorry for Carl after hearing this account. Although Carl used slaves both for work and as sexual relief, I knew him to be fair and “normal” in this – he just thought of slaves as animals to be used for his purposes, and just as you don’t deliberately mistreat an animal if you want to get he best out of it, Carl didn’t mistreat slaves.  Now, after all the trouble he had taken with trying to give Billy a decent upbringing – at least in his terms – it looked as if the boy was going to turn out bad. He was as worried as any father would be when his l6 year old son has done something that he feels is very wrong.

“Has Billy ever tortured you, Steve?”

I thought back to the biting, ball slapping, and the other minor acts of cruelty that Billy had done. But, on the whole, I thought they were probably just youthful exuberance. So, partly to reassure Carl and to try to help the guy, I said

“No. He’s sometimes hurt me when he’s been fucking me, but I think it was just because he was in a frenzy of sexual excitement.  It didn’t seem deliberate.”

“I shouldn’t pay too much attention to one isolated incident – I think it’s more that Billy likes a challenge, and he’d heard about that ex-marine slave – all of you were discussing him at length the other day around Jase’s pool. And he couldn’t resist showing off, demonstrating that he could do something that all the other men in Arkansas couldn’t do – make a tough, ex-marine cry. I don’t think he’s vicious at all, he’s just got a whole lot of arrogance.”

Carl sat there for a moment, and said “Steve, thanks for that. You may well be right. If I think back to my initiation into manhood, I can see a lot of myself in Billy. I was going to change the world.  I could do things others couldn’t”.

“If I were you, Carl, I’d leave well alone. If you make a big thing of this, Billy will play on it and it will only make matters worse. There’s no harm in delay – why not wait and see if he asks you to take him to the pain palace again. He can’t go by himself, can he?”

“No. They don’t allow you in there until you’re l8, unless accompanied by an adult. I think you’re right – I’ll wait and see.”

With that, Carl got up, and we went back to work. He didn’t mention it again all afternoon.


During the afternoon Carl’s mobile phone went off. This was unusual, as he didn’t use it for “work” as he wanted to be able to get on uninterrupted, and I had been given to understand that it was only “family” who called.

He had quite a long conversation, with his back turned to me so I couldn’t hear properly. Then, to my amazement, he told me to pack up for the day as he had to go to visit another job.

“You can come and see this one, too”, he said, as I think you’ll find it interesting. But you’ll have to be dressed, as otherwise you’ll be mistaken for one of the slaves on the place who has escaped”. So we went through the same thing as before, with him putting on a clean pair of shorts, and me wearing his warm, moist, dirty, sweat-stained ones.

As we drove along, Carl told me that he was not normally asked to do any work on any of the family’s ventures, and this was a problem for him as some of the most prestigious and

best-paying projects in the county were for the Bank, or one of its many subsidiaries. “Jase thinks it’s demeaning for one of his sons to be working on projects for the Bank”, Carl said.

“But perhaps he’s changed his mind – he’s asked me to go and look at some new fencing at the stud farm. That’s his pride and joy – he takes a personal interest in it, and I know his PA has orders to put through any calls from the farm to him immediately, however important the meeting he is in!”.

We drove in through impressive gates under an arch with “Arkansas Stud Farm” carved in to it. The drive must have been at least half a mile long, and on each side of us there were white painted post and rail fences enclosing meadows of lush green grass. Most of the meadows had horses and foals in them – magnificent looking animals, race horses, and trotters, I thought from the look of them.

Then looming in front of us was a set of beautiful, architect-designed buildings: a square-ish, pillared block directly in front saying “Administration”, to the left a set of buildings that looked like stables as they were single-storied and faced around semi-enclosed yards, and to the right a set of gracious buildings that looked rather like a very upmarket motel, in front of a set of other structures that could have been corporate offices, or perhaps research laboratories. The whole thing looked just like one of those new, high-priced business campuses, and it was clear that money had been lavished on it – there were fountains playing in the courtyard in front of the administration building, and everywhere were beds of shrubs all immaculately tended and in full flower.

Steve left me in the pickup whilst he went into the administration building, and came out a few minutes later with a distinguished looking man in khaki trousers and a crisp white shirt.

“Can my slave come with us?”, I heard Carl ask the guy. “He can be useful in holding the measuring tape and so on, and anyway I don’t want to leave him in the pickup in the sun – the temperature can rocket, and do harm to slaves (and animals) left there. I’ve given him a set of shorts, somewhat against the rules, I know, so that he doesn’t look like one of your slaves.”

“Sure, Carl.  This way…”

Carl gestured for me to follow hem, and we walked a few hundred yards to see the site of the new fencing that was to provide an exercise ring for the horses in the stud. I did indeed help Carl measure, whilst the guy watched and told Carl about the specifications for the job. I gathered that he was the manager of the Stud, and reported directly to Jase.

“Your daddy called me up and told me to get you to do this one”, he told Carl. “I thought it was strange, as I know you do good work, but Jase has always forbidden me to use you before.”

“Well, I think he thinks I need the money!”, said Carl. “He knows my boy Billy is growing, and I have a lot of expenses. So I think his attitude towards me is softening a bit.  We never did get on since I walked out of the Bank and started up on my own.”

“Yes, I know”, said the manager whose name I learned later was Calvin. “Everyone on the staff was surprised when you up and left, as all the senior executives are usually family members.

But I can understand you wanting to start out on your own. My family’s always been ‘navy’, and my pa’s an admiral. I went into the service straight from school, but left eight years later – the weight of ‘the family’ was too great, and I always thought I had to do better than my dad. I was lucky in that Jase met me in a bar in Newport News, heard I was thinking of leaving, and offered me a job in the Bank. I didn’t like the desk job I was given, but once I had come here, I’ve been as happy as a pig in shit.  I love the horses, and having the slaves, too, adds an extra dimension to it all.”

Calvin and Carl continued chatting, then Calvin said

“Do you want to have a look around your daddy’s pride and joy whilst you’re here?”

Carl did, so we went off to the set of buildings that I had thought of as stables when we arrived, and, indeed, they were. They were immaculate, freshly painted, with a horse’s name neatly chalked by the side of each occupied place.  Calvin explained that most of the horses in that part of the building were the stud’s stallions, and that the mares that were brought in to be “covered” were kept in another block.

“These stallions are frisky at the best of times”, Calvin explained, “But let them get a hint of a mare in season and they’re almost impossible.  You have to be really careful with these beauties

– they’re all winning racing stock, and extremely temperamental and powerful.”

“Why do the mares have to be brought here”, Carl asked. “Surely you could just capture their semen, freeze it, and ship it.”

“You’re absolutely right”, Calvin replied. “There’s no technical problem at all. On most farms, bulls no longer visit the herds of cows as they are all inseminated by frozen semen.  But in horse racing, especially horse racing at the highest level, there’s still the requirement for the stallion to cover the mare physically. The Racing Club won’t register the foal otherwise, and without a proven, registered pedigree, their value is almost nothing.”

“We have mares come in from all over the world to be covered by your pa’s stallions, and sometimes the owners come to see it – although not all that often, as the sort of people who own horses like these are usually so busy they can’t take time out from their work. You have to be really rich to own a race horse these days! But when they do, we can accommodate them in the on-site hotel that we use mainly for ‘the other side’. It’s kind of funny – I’ve listened to some of the conversations in the bar at night, and you get owners and trainers happily discussing their matings and the stallion’s performance, whilst the people for ‘the other side’ listen in horror until they realise what’s happening!”

Both men laughed at this, and I supposed they knew what it was all about – I couldn’t understand their conversation at all. But of course, as a slave, I couldn’t interrupt and ask.

We went into one of the covered barns, and a mare was just being tethered prior to being covered. “Want to stay and watch?”, Calvin asked, and Carl said he did.

So we took seats in a grandstand alongside, and soon a huge black stallion, snorting and prancing, was brought in. Four men “helped” the stallion to cover the mare, and one of the guys actually had to put the stallions huge, two-foot long cock into the mare before the Stallion humped away for a short time then withdrew. Calvin explained that the men needed to help because the stock was so valuable – you couldn’t risk damaging the mare by the hooves of the stallion, so it all had to be controlled in this way, and a video film was made for the owners of both animals.

Seeing this magnificent creature in full rut had affected us all, I think – I certainly was completely erect, and I saw Carl tugging at the front of his cut-offs, too!

We then went to see the foaling pens, and I was allowed to lean over and tickle the ears of one new foal – anxiously watched by the mare. They were beautifully soft, and Calvin explained that the foal was probably going to win the kentucky Derby one day, given his parents’ heritage.

That makes him worth more today, even as a week-old foal who has never yet raced, than all the slaves on ‘the other side’ put together”, he said, laughing.

Having seen all these magnificent animals I think I can understand why the super rich like to own thoroughbreds and breed and race them – there’s something simply awesome about seeing these huge animals unwillingly bending to the will of man. It’s not so very different from owning slaves, I suppose!

Calvin then suggested we went and inspected ‘the other side’, too.

“Want to leave your slave here?” he asked. “He seems genuinely interested in the horses, and perhaps it’s not a good thing to show him around the other side – are you planning to sell him to us when you’re tired of him? With a body like that I’m sure he’d have some takers, if he’s well educated, that it is. The big stud types are a bit out of fashion at he moment, unless they’ve got brains to back up the brawn.”

Once again, I was being talked about just as a piece of meat. What was my value? Did my brains match my body? Calvin never thought to even ask me – he was only interested in Carl’s opinions of me as a slave.

“No, let him come”, said Carl. “I haven’t decided what the future holds for him yet – I really got him as a present for Billy on his l6th birthday, but when he goes back to school next month, I haven’t decided what to do with the slave. I might keep him, as he’s useful in my work, and he’s good in bed, too. But you never know! He certainly shoots enough cum to be good for you here!”

Calvin looked at me and said “Let me see your tackle, boy”

I looked at him in astonishment – we were in the middle of an open court yard, and so far I had seen no other naked slaves around at all. I hesitated.

“Boy – didn’t you hear me! I said show me your tackle. Now drop those shorts!”. In an instant, he had gone from having a pleasant conversation with Carl to issuing an order in a harsh tone – I could tell that he must be used to ordering slaves around, just from the way he used his voice.”

So I undid the buttons on my cut-offs, and dropped them onto the concrete of the yard.

“Display!”, he rapped. And then to Carl, “How do you put up with a slave like this who hesitates over orders, and who then doesn’t know how to present himself to a master?”

Carl just shrugged, as he obviously didn’t care. Calvin took a step towards me, reached down, and cupped my balls in his hand. I winced as he hefted them to feel their weight, and rolled them between his fingers to feel their shape and size. Then he rolled back my foreskin and rubbed his thumb over my moist cock head.

I hadn’t been casually handled like this since I was auctioned, and I knew what it was to be a slave – a master could just examine even your most intimate parts if he wanted to, without any concern for your views.  I couldn’t help but compare myself with the magnificent stallion we had watched being mated earlier – the stud hands had guided his enormous penis into the mare, and now here I was, with a man’s hand wrapped around my penis, too.  Was there no difference between us?

“Yes, good balls”, Calvin said to Carl. “Low hangers like these always please the clients. But if he does come here, that foreskin will have to go – most of the clients aren’t used to seeing an uncut slave, and we can tell from our statistics that they don’t buy the service, howeve r desirable the slave is otherwise and however a good a fit he is to their requirements.”

Calvin and Carl walked off, and I bent to pick up the shorts.

“There’s no need for those”, said Calvin to Carl.  “He won’t be mistaken for any of the stock as they are all securely caged all the time.”, so I followed them, again naked after my brief time in shorts. Actually, I didn’t mind too much – after so many weeks of nudity, having Carl’s shorts around my balls and ass was actually somewhat unpleasant – I was conscious of the chafing of the damp fabric on my body all the time.  Still, they were Carl’s shorts, so I rolled them up neatly and tucked them under my arm, and followed the two men into a large building that was behind the administration block.

There was a luxurious reception area in the modernist style, with a couple of leather couches for visitors, and a white oak reception desk with two receptionists behind it. Calvin told them we were “going through”, and one of them pressed a button to open a door for us in the opposite wall.

We went through the door, and in front of us was a long, carpeted corridor. One side of the corridor was floor-length glass windows, giving us a view over the lush meadows full of mares and foals, and the other side was floor to ceiling stainless steel bars. Behind the bars, in small cells formed of other bars, were a row of naked men.

“These are our current selection of stallions who are in active production”, said Calvin. “We have 50 of them, as some clients like to pick from live flesh. But a lot of our business comes from the frozen semen of stallions who have since been sold on – we keep full physical details of them, of course, and their semen is available for sale for a period of five years from when we harvest it.”

As we walked along, I could see that the men were in all heights and builds, ranging from short guys up to one six foot seven, thin guys, “swimmers”, and muscle hunks.  Most of the men were white, but there were a couple of blacks. Most of the white men had brown or black hair, but there were some blondes, too, and a couple of red heads. All of the men were obviously in superb physical condition – none of them was fat, and their hair all shone and as they smiled at us, their teeth were gleaming white. I guessed they were all in the 20 to 30 age group.

Calvin was starting to explain the system to us, when his cell phone went off, and he excused us. “I’ll be back in a few minutes”, he said, “Just a bit of trouble in the milking parlour. Why don’t you just feast your eyes over the stock?”

So Carl and I continued to walk along the corridor, looking into the cells at the inmates. Each cell was only eight feet long, and four feet wide. There was a “sleeping roll” neatly rolled in the back of each cell, but otherwise they were totally empty. The floors were of plain concrete, with a drain hole in the middle, and on the back wall of each cell there was a door without a handle. A row of TV cameras mounted on the corridor ceiling looked into each individual cell – I supposed there were 50 cameras, as we had been told that there were 50 stallions.

“Hey, Steve! Have they brought you here now?” a voice called out, and I went along two more cells and saw inside, standing up against the bars so that his uncircumcised cock carried on top of his tight round balls was jutting through, was Jim.

“Jim!”.  I heard you’d been sold to a stud farm, but I didn’t realise it was here”, I said.

Then I explained to Carl that Jim was the fourth of my buddies from the road gang, and asked if it was Ok for us to speak.

“Sure”, Carl said. “He can tell us what it’s like here, rather than us getting the standard lecture from Calvin when he gets back”.

“Are you coming here, man?”, Jim asked again.

I looked at Carl, but he gave no indication, so I said “I don’t know, Jim. If I am, it’s not immediately today. But this option sounds a lot better than some of the others I’ve heard about.”

“Don’t you be so sure! When we were being auctioned and Mitch was sent off to the pain parlour, I thanked my lucky stars when I heard the stud farm had bought me. Fucking women is what I’m good at, and I like kids – I’ve got four of my own… Or, rather, I’ve got four of my own ‘back there’, that I know about!”

“I thought I’d spend my days in bed with a lot of lovely ladies, pumping my seed into them. But it’s not like that… This is primarily a mail-order business!”

“I’m stuck in this cell 20 hours a day. I sleep in that sleeping roll, on the floor of the cell. I crap and piss down that hole in the floor, and every morning I’m showered by the guards who come along that corridor with a hose pipe and direct it at me whilst I wash myself down. The only change is when that door back there opens, and I get my compulsory four hours in the gym to keep my body tone – and the so called ‘instructors’ are brutal! They don’t whip us if we don’t exercise as hard as we can because they don’t want our skin damaged, but they prod us with electric cattle goads. Even though it is boring, I’m glad to get back in here after one of those mammoth sessions.”

“You look well on it, anyway”, I said.

“Yes – they keep us all in peak physical condition. Because that’s what the clients are buying – good, strong healthy fathers for their babies. All over America – and the rest of the world as far as I know – there are couples where the man can’t father a child, or single women who don’t want a man, and they can buy our semen. Once you’ve paid your fee to the agency, you get a password to connect over the Internet to those cameras in the ceiling – you can view all of us guys in our cells, and even send commands to tell us to stand up, turn around, have an erection, and so on.”

Just a that moment, the camera in the ceiling in front of a cell about four away moved slightly, and I heard a faint voice say “Turn around.  Put your arms in the air.”  Then this was repeated a few cameras further along.

“I suppose that’s someone ‘window shopping’”, Jim went on.

“If you want to buy the semen of one of the guys, you call the Stud Farm here and they come and harvest it whilst you watch on the camera, then they freeze it and ship it to you via UPS to arrive the next morning. Anyone can inseminate themselves – it’s easy, you can use a turkey baster.”

“They use the cameras to keep an eye on us from the control centre here at the Farm, too. They don’t want us wasting our semen, so if they see us touching our cocks, they can send a powerful electric current through the floor of an individual cell that almost knocks you out! That’s because every morning they come along and ‘harvest’ our semen. That’s frozen, too, and stays available for quite a long time, I’ve been told.”

“Hey, Jim, you mean you don’t get to fuck the women?”, I asked.

“You’re damned right! We don’t even see a woman most of the time!  Of course we do get the occasional clients who want to make a personal inspection, and when you two came through that door we thought it must be one of those rare ladies who wanted to see us in the flesh before making her choice – but that’s unusual, and I don’t suppose we get more than one or two a week. But even if they do come here personally, the most they can do is watch us being harvested, then take the warm semen back to their room in the accommodation block.”

“So they can’t have you doing the whole job, even if they want?”

“No. Basically, us slaves are never let out of these cells, unless it’s into the exercise area behind. That way they hardly need any guards, as we can’t escape. The whole place runs with just two of three general attendants who harvest us, and a couple of gym instructors, so they make as much profit as possible. Of course they tell the ladies that it’s for their own good – because we don’t get to fuck the clients, there’s no risk of disease and so our semen is guaranteed infection-free!”

I remembered how pleased Jim had been when he heard that he’d been sold to the Stud Farm. He had told us that he was sure he’d be their champion stud very soon, as he was such an expert cocksman. He’d almost laughed at Dave being sold to a sex parlour, and had said that at least he, Jim, wasn’t going to have to take cocks up his ass! How different it had all turned out for him – kept here in these utterly featureless conditions, just being looked at occasionally by a camera, and being “harvested” each day.

What a way to treat men – this surely was degrading slaves not just in to animals, but, worse, into animals kept under intensive farming conditions and never allowed to experience any freedom or even to go out into the daylight. The mares and stallions on the ‘real’ side of the stud farm were treated better than this – no harvesting and freezing of the semen of those stallions – they had to “cover” a mare properly, in the good old-fashioned way.

Just then, the light on the camera by us, looking into Jim’s cell came on, and I heard a voice say “Would you gentlemen mind moving back a little, please, so I can see stallion 37 clearly?”

We guessed that this must be a remote viewer, so not wanting to upset the normal business of the place, Carl motioned me to move back. We stood there as Jim was commanded to face forwards, face backwards, raise his arms, then put his arms out horizontally and turn around (difficult as the cell was so narrow).  The voice then went on to order him to do twenty push-ups, and we watched as his rounded bubble butt bounced up and down, then twenty squat kicks with his arms behind his head.

As he stood there “at display” after these exercises, I could see the camera zoom in to have a closer look at his chest – he was fit, so he wasn’t labouring for breath, but he was breathing hard.

Then there was a more detailed examination. He had to turn around, bend down, and spread his ass cheeks so that he camera could peer up his crack. His balls were, as I have said, carried high, so you couldn’t see them hanging down between his thighs as he was doing this.

Then he was told to stand up again and turn around, and he had to display his tackle – he cupped his balls to show they were fleshy and alive, and jerked himself once or twice so that the camera could see him erect. He was commanded to pull his foreskin back off his cock head, so that the camera could get a good look at his moist glans with it’s darker piss slit in the middle.

I could hear some discussion going on in the background, coming out of the loudspeaker, and then a voice said “Ok, 37.  We’re going ahead to select you as the father of our child.”

The light on the camera stayed on to indicate it was still in use for watching, then a door at the other end of the corridor opened and two men came in wheeling a small trolley.

They came up to Jim’s cell, and wished Carl a good afternoon (totally ignoring me, of course).

“We’re going to harvest this stallion now, sir”, one of them said. “You’re welcome to watch, but please don’t get in our way, or obstruct the view of the camera as the client wants to see the whole proceedings.”

Carl was obviously fascinated, because he decided to stay. The two men obviously had the routine off pat. They commanded Jim to come to the front of the cage, and stand at “display” against the bars. Once he was in position, they slipped cuffs around his wrists and ankles, so he was held there relatively immobile. The top of the little card opened, to reveal a set of apparatus, including an industrial thermos flask marked “liquid nitrogen”, that was bubbling steadily as the nitrogen evaporated.

“Ok, we’re ready”, said one guard, and the other quickly reached into the cell with a chain, slipped it behind Jim around his waist, and out the other side. The guard pulled the chain tight, and locked it in position, so that Jim was totally immobile – he couldn’t jerk his tackle back from where it was poking through the bars.

The other guard pulled on a latex glove, dipped his hand into a small container of oil, and started to jerk Jim off. The poor guy was embarrassed – I guess he was used to being treated in this way normally if they “harvested” every morning, but having me watch this humiliating process was almost too much for him.

The guard continued to slide his oiled hand up and down Jim’s cock, feeling at Jim’s balls with his other hand, until he said to his colleague “Here it comes…”, and the other guy deftly leaned forward and caught Jim’s sperm in a little glass test tube as it fountained out of the end of his cock.

They then ignored Jim, as they were clearly working to a long-established and well-practised procedure: they quickly and efficiently capped the tube, labelled it with the time of harvesting and Jim’s Programme number (which they double checked against his tattoos), then dropped the tube into the liquid nitrogen to flash-freeze it.

“Ok, that’s all done, sir and ma’am”, the guard said looking at the camera. “UPS will be here within the hour, and the harvest will be with you within 24 hours. Thank you for using the Arkansas Stud Farm.”

The light on the camera winked out, one guard went off with the frozen tube, and the other undid the bindings holding Jim in position before leaving, too.

“That was fairly typical”, Jim said. “At least it was a proper couple on the other end. I always worry what will happen to my kid if it’s a single woman, or, even worse, a couple of lesbians who are buying my sperm.”

He was going to say more, but Calvin came back at that point.

“Do you want to look around the deep freezes where we keep the frozen stock from all the daily harvests?”, he asked, “Or the publicity and admin areas, where we keep the web site up to date with all the available stallion details?”

“If you want, we can search our database for the physical characteristics of any type you’re looking for, and I can give you a free sample to take home…. Although looking at what you’ve got up front, I don’t suppose your old lady has any problems….” He said laughingly to Carl, pointing at the huge bulge in the front of Carl’s shorts.

“No, I guess we’d better be going”, Carl said, “As I need to make Billy’s dinner.”

“Tell me, though, what happens to all the semen you harvest after it’s ‘time expired’?”

“We used just to unfreeze it and flush it down the drains. But now we sell it to the factory that manufactures slave mush and it gets mixed in to their general slave food. I don’t suppose there’s much semen in every mouthful a slave eats, but it’s a useful advertising ploy ‘Cum in your slave’s food makes him appreciate a proper mouthful from you even more’. Sales have definitely gone up since we started, and the money we get from the food manufacturers pays the whole running costs of this place – the fees we charge clients are pure profit for Jase.”

By this time we were out of the building, Calvin and Carl shook hands, and we drove back to the cabin.

As we lay in bed that night, Carl gave Billy a shortened version of what we had seen. “I think Steve was envious of his friend who he had heard had gone to the Stud Farm”, he said to his son, “and thought that fucking around with you and me was a bit degrading when he could have been there servicing women. But now I think he knows he has the best of it, here with us!”

Of course, he was right.



Both Carl and Billy had been looking forward to visitors, and the arrival day of Billy’s three school friends dawned bright and hot as usual. Billy was very excited, and we dropped him off in town as usual before going on to work.

Carl was unusually silent and taciturn during the day, and on the way back to the cabin we did not stop off at Jase’s mansion to pick up Billy and the others. I thought they would therefore be waiting at the cabin when we got home, but we were alone.

We ate dinner in silence, and Carl went to bed very early, commanding me to hurry up and get my ass in, too.

We were lying there for some minutes, side by side, until he told me to roll over and kneel up, and he fucked me – but it wasn’t the usual Carl – he was just going through the motions to empty his balls before the night, and it wasn’t his usual hard and vigorous thrusting, finishing with an explosive burst of cum.

When he’d finished, we lay on our backs, side by side, and I could tell there was something wrong.

“Shall I massage you, Master? Would that help you to sleep?” “No.”

I turned on my side to face him, put my arm over his chest and snuggled my erect cock into his thigh.

“Get away, Steve. Leave me alone”, he snapped. “Master, what’s wrong?  Is it something I’ve done?”

He lay there in silence for a minute or two, then said

“I’m not being fair to you, I guess – although I don’t have to be! Although you’re a slave, I’ve come to quite like you in these last few weeks, and I shouldn’t be treating you like this in bed.”

“It’s Billy. He won’t bring his school friends here to the cabin, and they’re going to spend the whole time at Jase’s mansion. I asked him why, and he wouldn’t say. I had to push him to make him tell me – he’s ashamed of the cabin; he’s ashamed of my beat up old pick up; and he’s ashamed that I do an honest day’s work for my money, rather than working in some office or whatever! He doesn’t want his fancy school friends to see how we live here, but he knows they’ll be impressed with Jase’s place, so he’s staying there.”

“I thought Billy and I were really close. I’ve bonded with him ever since his mom left, and especially since he matured sexually. Since his birthday when we started fucking properly, I’ve imagined that we were a proper father and son – how close can two men get, after all? And I know I pleased him when I gave you to him as his birthday present. But he’s turned his back on me, and only wants Jase’s fancy place, Jase’s chauffeured limos, trips on the corporate Boeing, Jase’s pool, Jase’s tennis courts….”

“Surely not, Master”, I said, trying to cheer him up as he sounded almost on the point of tears.

“It’s natural for a boy to be proud of his whole family – especially when that family has achieved so much, as yours has. Perhaps he just wants to show his friends how one of the leading lights in Arkansas society lives, and how civilised it is down here really. He must get a lot of ribbing about coming from Arkansas from the other boys from places like San Francisco, Manhattan, Boston, or even Westchester County.  It’s natural for him to want to redress the balance a bit.”

“Yes, Steve.  But he hasn’t even said that he will come to the Cabin after a couple of days.  All he asked for was that I sent you to Jase’s tomorrow, as he wanted to show you to his friends. I can do without you, by the way, so I will be dropping you there in the morning.                                                              But he even asked for me to take the pickup around to the servants’ and slaves’ entrance, and not pull up at the front door!”

“Look, Master, I’m sure you’ve got this wrong. Billy is a good guy, and a fine son. I’ll find out the real lie of the land tomorrow.”

“Good night, Steve” “Good night, Master.”

The next morning we set out specially early. Carl’s pride wouldn’t let him drive around to the back of Jase’s, and he stopped at the front door as usual – as the son of the house, he always used this entrance. But I noticed that none of the blinds in the guest wing were drawn – I guessed that by arriving especially early Carl thought that he could avoid ‘embarrassing’ Billy.

Carl drove away, and Jase’s butler told me to wait in the marble entrance hall.  He reminded me that I was not allowed to sit on the furniture, so I sat against one wall with my ass on the cool marble of the floor. I drew my knees up towards my chin, so I could rest my head, even though I knew that my cock and balls would poke down between my thighs for all to see – what did it matter – I was only a slave.

It was a good two hours before Billy appeared, in shorts and a T-shirt.  He led me into the dining room, where a sumptuous breakfast buffet was as usual laid on a table against one wall, and sat down to start his breakfast. He told me to “display” against the wall behind his chair, as I had done the last time I was in that room.

He ate his food slowly, and then clearly enjoyed the look of shock on the face of the first of his friends when the boy came into the room, started to help himself from the buffet, then saw me standing there – my naked, tanned body outlined against the pale cream of the wall.

“See”, said Billy. “I wasn’t joking when I told you I had a personal slave, and that I kept him naked. All three of you called me a bullshitter last night – but I think you owe me five dollars from that bet you made!”

The other boy pulled some notes out of his shorts just as the other two guests came in and went through a similar experience.

Billy really was a master of cool – all the time they were eating breakfast he never referred to me, never even glanced at me – he was trying to make it look as if having a naked stud standing behind you was “normal”. The other three could hardly keep their eyes off me, however, and kept staring in my direction in between mouthfuls of food.

“So what’s it to be today?”, Billy asked. “Swimming, tennis… Or we could fly to Dallas or the coast on grandpa’s Boeing if you want.”

There didn’t seem to be any replies, so he went on “Or, of course, I could continue your education, and give you fucking lessons – I can guarantee that you’ll like this slave’s ass! His name’s Steve, by the way, but you just address him as ‘slave’.”

The other three guys seemed astounded by this, and Billy went on “Or we could do some combination of those. How about a tennis tournament, with the winner fucking Steve as the prize?  Come on.. be inventive!”

“Look, I asked you all here because for the last term we were all jerk-off buddies. Now I know what real fucking is like, and how much better it is than just jerking off, I shall be missing out when school re-starts unless one or more of you also wants to fuck regularly.”

When none of them said anything, he continued: “I thought you were all men, not wimps – does the sight of all that muscle terrify you? It’s nothing to be afraid of – Steve’s totally obedient. He can suck like a vacuum cleaner, and his ass is great. Why don’t we just laze around the pool, and I’ll show you what a lot of fun real sex, with a real man, can be, and how it beats the shit out of fucking your fingers?”

I don’t think any of the three wanted to be the first to say “no” to Billy’s idea, so all four trooped out to the pool, followed by me.

Billy just pulled off his shirt, kicked off his deck shoes, and dropped his shorts to stand there totally naked. The others mumbled about needing to go to get heir swimming shorts, but Billy said “No – all the men in this house swim naked. Come on, guys, get out of that kit. It’s not as if we all haven’t seen each other naked hundreds of times before in the communal showers at school!”

They could see the sense in this, and all stripped off. They were all, like Billy, reasonably well built and athletic – I suppose he chose his buddies, who he was jerking off with, because he liked their bodies as much as he liked their personalities. But they were nervous. One of them jumped in the pool and started swimming lengths to avoid having to stand there, and the others, seeing this as an easy solution, followed suit.

Billy just sat on the pool edge, dangling his feet in the water.

When the three finally got out and were lying on towels soaking up the sun, Billy casually flicked his fingers at me to come over to him, then told me to take up the doggy position. Even with my head pressed down into the pool surround, I could see Billy’s friends looking on in astonishment as he fucked me in front of them.

I suppose I should have felt deeply embarrassed by this, but by now I was so used to being used by men that it almost made no difference where it was, or whether there was an audience. I thought that having Billy’s nice cock up me, and being able to enjoy the warm sun and t he atmosphere of the pool, was at least a whole lot better than the sterile existence that Jim was enduring, or the horrors of Mitch’s everyday life.

“Ok, so who’s next?” I heard Billy ask. “I’ve slicked him up nicely for you, and it will be a long time before you have another opportunity to take an ass as good as this one!”

The boys were discussing things amongst themselves, and I could hear several comments like “You first” and “no, you”, and “Scared”, and “No, I’m not”, and so on. Then there was another cock pushing at my sphincter, and a different pair of hands gripping around my waist.

The boy was hesitant, and pushed feebly a couple of times – even though I was relaxing as much as possible, his cock head just wasn’t going in. Then I heard a “slap” and he rammed in to me, suddenly and violently. Billy was laughing, and I gathered he had snuck up behind his friend and suddenly slapped his ass, causing him to leap forward in shock and penetrate me.

Once the guy was in he warmed to his task, and fucked vigorously, but he came very quickly.

After this “trail blazer”, the other two found it easier to fuck me, and soon Billy told me I could get up.

All four of them were lying, side by side, idly playing with their cocks, and talking about their first real fuck. Taking a lead from Billy, none of them spoke to me and, as usual, I was just treated as an object, a chattel, a convenient way for them to hoot their loads.

I stood there, looking down at them, but Billy said “No, it’s not over yet! Clean us up, Steve”.

So I put my hands behind my neck, dropped to my knees, and starting at one end of the line of the guys, gently took each of their cocks into my mouth in turn and licked them clean of cum and my ass juices.

I think all the visitors were in some sort of shock after this – they just didn’t seem to be able to believe they were living through this experience.

Someone came into the pool area, and the three guests covered their cocks with their hands reflexively. Billy didn’t, of course, and anyway it was only Dave, naked as slaves always are.

Master Billy, Jase sent me down as a further companion today”, Dave said. “He’s gone off to the Bank, and won’t be able to get back before dinner time.”

Billy then suggested a wrestling match – all the boys were apparently wrestlers at school, so they knew the sport well. “My kit’s in my room”, one of them said to Billy, “Send your slave to fetch it for me”.

“No! – Don’t you know how much fun it is to wrestle naked?”, Billy replied. “Come on – us two first, then  the others, then the winners of the two bouts, to see who’s the champion.”

I’ve never found watching wrestling on the TV at all interesting, especially not that faked “WWW” stuff with those big over-muscled guys pretending to hurt each other. And high school wrestling doesn’t turn me on, either. But seeing Billy and his friend go at it naked was something else – there is a difference when the male form isn’t covered with one of those ridiculous wrestling suits, or even with Speedos. The ancient Greeks had it right, when their young men always wrestled nude.

The two watching boys gasped when Billy introduced a new twist into the contest, however – he was winning the first match against his friend, and when he had him pinioned and in a submission hold, he flipped the guy over, and forced his way into the friend’s ass. The guy started to holler and shout, but Billy had him in a grip he couldn’t escape from, and simply rammed himself in.

Dave and I both found this wrestle turned to rape very erotic – we had been cheering the match on, and both of us were now erect.

Billy was obviously spent, because he let his friend go, they both stood up, and shook hands. “No hard feelings?”, Billy asked. His friend only muttered, and I knew he must be really sore after a first, forced, penetration like that.

But Billy insisted the second pair fight, and the winner of this bout, too, fucked the loser!

Billy and the winner of the second bout were then going to fight, but the guy pointed out it was unfair – he had only just cum, and when he beat Billy in a couple of minutes, he couldn’t be expected to fuck him immediately! All the guys laughed at this, so they decided to call off the deciding match for a time, and get some sun.

Billy therefore commanded me to make him a “sun bed”, and to the astonishment of his friends, settled down to lie on me as before.

He warned them all about the fierce Arkansas sun, and Dave then went around and massaged sun oil into their naked bodies. None of them had ever been oiled all over before by a naked slave, I’m sure, and Dave’s rubbing in of the oil did of course include their cocks. They were unable to prevent themselves being erected by his hand, and, as a good slave does, he bent his head low, kissed their cocks gently, and sucked them off if they showed no signs of objecting.

They all had a couple of beers with their lunch, served by the pool, and after lunch the alcohol had obviously made one of the guests very bold, because he came up to where I was lying looking down into the water and said “Doggy position, slave!”

I saw Billy nod his head faintly in assent, so I did, and the guy fucked me, as his friends cheered. This seemed to break the ice, because all afternoon one or other of them was up my ass, or Dave’s ass. I think they found him less threatening, as he was only a few years older than they were, and his body was not so strong and muscled as mine.

Lying in bed with Billy that night in one of the luxurious guest rooms, I said to him “Master, I know Carl is very worried about you.”

“Worried?  Why?  What harm can possibly come to me here?”

“No, not that sort of harm, Master. He thinks you have rejected him, because you want to spend all this week here with your friends and won’t take them up to the cabin. He thinks you’re ashamed of him.”

“No!” Billy sat bolt upright in shock. “I love dad, and respect him. It’s just that these guys are – well – sophisticated, and their homes are all like this. I don’t think they would be happy in the cabin.  And, anyway, there’s nowhere for them to sleep.”

“Look, Master, when you go to parties I bet you all sleep on the floor. I don’t think any of those guys would mind curling up in blankets in the cabin. They’d probably find the change interesting.”

“No. I asked them here, for the swimming, tennis, and so on. There’s nothing to do at the cabin.”

“Come on, Master, we could all go camping and hiking. And you could continue their education under the stars – wouldn’t that be exotic? Anyway, it would certainly please your dad, who’s pretty fed up with you right now. Are you sure you’re not using all these points about their comfort simply as excuses?”

Billy didn’t say anything, but rolled over, pushing his ass back into me causing me to wince slightly. He lay there spooned in front of me, but didn’t say another word, and we didn’t have any kind of sex that night.

Amazingly, in the morning at breakfast, as I stood there against the wall, he announced that there was to be a change of plan – we were all going on a four-day camping trip. Some of the guys groaned and said “Oh, no – not carrying all that kit up and down mountains!”

“You don’t realise the other advantages of having a slave”, said Billy, “Especially one as big and strong as Steve here. We’ll just load him up with all the gear like a pack horse, and we won’t have to carry a thing ourselves.”

Billy called Carl on his cell phone, and shortly after breakfast Carl arrived – at the front door, I noticed, in the pickup, and we all went outside.

“Ok, let’s go!” said Billy, but one of the group said “I haven’t packed yet”.

“What do you need?”, Billy asked. “We’ll be naked in the mountains! Come on, get in!” He leapt into the back of the pickup, and his friends joined him. I sat with Carl, up front.

As we drove up to the cabin, Carl turned to me and said “What on earth could have changed Billy’s mind?”

“I can’t say, Master”, I replied, smiling. I think he got the message.

The camping trip was in fact a huge success. The three guys were at first surprised when Carl went naked with them – most of them hadn’t seen their dads naked for years. But they soon saw that he was a lot of fun, and they came to envy the way that Billy and Carl wer e true friends – most of them were still at that stage of violently disagreeing with their fathers about everything- it’s one of those things that guys tend to do as they mature as one of the ways of way of proving their manhood, before becoming reconciled in their early twenties.

It was really hard work for me, as I had to carry the tent and all the food for six of us – they could hike up and down the beautiful hills and enjoy the scenery, but I was weighed down like a pack animal, and had a really struggle to keep up.  Sweat was fountaining of my body, and my leg muscles and lungs thought they were going to give up. Surprisingly, after an hour to two, Carl saw me having this hard time and actually took some of the stuff off my back and strapped a pack onto his own.

We were both naked, and if it weren’t for my tattoos, you could have thought that Billy and the boys had two slaves along as porters, and not just one.  What was the real difference between a master and as slave I wondered? Stripped of clothes and performing the same menial tasks, there really was no way in which you could differentiate them.

The tent was a very small one, and after a whispered conversation with Carl, Billy and his friends paired up, and I slept with Carl. As we lay in each other’s arms, listening to the little slurps and moans as the boys jerked each other off or fucked each other, Carl looked deliriously happy. He was so pleased that Billy had adapted so well to school life, and was forming friendships that would last his whole life. But most of all he was proud that Billy wanted his friends to see what a great dad he had.

But the four days were soon up, and we made our way back to the cabin, and then to Jase’s, all feeling rather sad at the end of what, for everyone, was a memorable experience and one hat would be remembered all our lives. Those four days in the mountains had bonded us all – boys, Carl, and me, into a single team where differences of age, and between master and slave, had been ironed out by the common purpose we shared of enjoying our vacation and the way we all gloried in enjoying male flesh.