A kinky story written by Pete Brown.
Chapter 11 of 30 –> here you find the other chapters of the story
Illustration by Theo Blaze
Reb did look the picture of misery as he slowly got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He stood and pissed for a long time, then turned on the shower. He was in there for ages, rubbing and scrubbing away at his body as if he was in some way trying to wash away what had happened to him. Stupid, really. When he’d dried himself – one of the new towels of course as the place had been cleaned – he came out with the thing wrapped around his waist and I once more saw why I was persevering with him, making him into a proper slave – his body was so exciting, especially his thick hairy muscular thigh that was not concealed by the towel. I suppose I knew it was wrong of me, but I went to a drawer and pulled out a pair of my old exercise shorts, and told Reb to put them on – I really ought to have consolidated my training by making him go naked that day, or, perhaps even better, to wear the gold ring and chain set.
We went down and mooched around the pool, and I again rubbed sun block into his butt. But he didn’t want me to put any anti-inflammatory stuff on his hole, even though it would have been simple to do as he was stretched out there naked. I suppose I should have insisted – after all ‘Modern Salve Owner’ says that a considerate owner always looks after the well-being of his slave, but I was busy thinking about Jake and what we might do that evening, and I didn’t want to have a sordid argument intruding. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I barely heard Mrs Williams calling to say that lunch was ready – Reb grabbed at his shorts in case she came into the pool area, and I think I was concerned that he was still shy, even though he had appeared the previous evening nearly naked. Still, I had my own difficulties to attend to – all those thoughts of Jake and that night had got me really boned up, and it showed as a huge bulge in the front of my swimming shorts.
Jake and Mrs Williams chattered away over lunch, mostly ignoring me. So as soon as I could I stalked out, saying that there was some stuff I needed to do on my PC and that Reb should spend the afternoon exercising and tanning.
I went to pick dad up after his office called to tell me what train he was on, and when he got out of the coach in the regular place, dad stopped for a moment and looked at me strangely. He had his hand on my shoulder and pushed me away, kind of scanning me up and down from arm’s length. “Are you OK, son? You look kind of different somehow.”
“Sure, dad!”, I was so happy inside. Dad had noticed something about me, and I knew it was the fact that I’d taken another step on the road to being a man. In some way I was radiating to others that I was no longer a kid, that I’d now had sex, real sex.
Dad told me on the way home that he was going off early the next morning – very early – he was catching the first train into the city as he needed to get the early train down to Washington. “I’m going to be away a couple of days – possibly more”, he told me. “A Big case – and we need to do some serious lobbying of the government. We’ll possibly lose in Court, so I’m talking to the politicians to get the whole thing dropped.” I nodded. “A young guy like you needs his sleep – I remember how I was at your age – so the office has arranged a cab for the morning, so you won’t have to get up.”
When Reb came in to dinner, dad looked at him in that same way that he’d looked at me on the station platform. Reb had a few bruises on his body that were starting to show, where Jake and I had knelt on him or grabbed him in the more extreme moments of sex, but then dad homed in on the very noticeable bruising and faint bit marks on his shoulder. Dad swivelled to look at me again, and I suppose I looked away and down, embarrassed by what had gone on. “So, Steve, that’s what’s different, is it? You’ve done a bit more slave training today?”
“Yes, dad”, I mumbled. “Well be careful, Steve – Reb’s a powerful man, I can see that. I don’t want you getting hurt.” I asked about football then which succeeded in changing the subject, as dad answered and then he and Reb talked about it for the rest of dinner.
Afterwards I told dad I was going out to see a buddy, and he at first didn’t want me to go. “Dad”, I exclaimed. “You and Reb are going to watch the match all evening and drink beer, then you’re going on the phone, and then you’re going to bed early as you’ve to be up early tomorrow, you said. So what does it matter if I’m here or not?”
“Well be careful, Steve”, he said again. “And perhaps you should not take the car: I know young guys like you can start drinking – as long as it’s at your buddy’s house, that’s OK. But don’t get caught under-age drinking in a bar: the courts can be very severe, very severe indeed…”
“Not a problem, dad! Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve arranged a taxi anyway, and I might even stay over…. Call me tomorrow from Washington and let me know when you’ll be back.”
We hugged, and at that moment the gate buzzed, and I pushed the button to let the taxi in.
I’d deliberately not dressed up – I wore an old jacket from last season that still fitted me, and some shabby jeans, so that I did not look out of place in the run-down areas of the bar. I had put on really expensive sharp new boxers, though, as I hoped I’d get naked with Jake and I wanted to impress him. As I ripped them out of the packet the very thought of wearing them for Jake was enough to make me erect, and I thought about a quick jerk-off to relieve the pressure – but knew that was foolish as I wanted Jake to see the really huge amount of cum I could produce and didn’t want to ‘waste’ it. Even so, I stopped the taxi a couple of blocks north of the bar, and turned up my coat collar and hugged the buildings as I made my way towards it as I was terrified that one of my buddies or someone else, like a teacher, might see me – it was stupid, of course, as if they were in that area they’d probably be going to that bar, or somewhere similar, and so would be equally concerned that I might see them.
I buzzed the door and waited nervously feeling most vulnerable in the street right outside, and was thankful when I was in. The same doorman was there as had been when I was with Jake, and he recognised me. “Jake called and said his ‘slave’ would be coming by and that I should let him in…. So you know the rules I think, boy?”
I took my coat off and handed it to him, neatly concealing a two new dollar bill with it – I’d learned a lot from dad about tipping and the way to do it discretely. Then I took off my shirt – and the guy looked at me and said “That Jake’s a lucky guy.” I didn’t really like him commenting on me like that, but on the other hand it did feel sort of good to know that another man thought I had a buff body. He pulled out a collar from under the counter, and told me to lean forward so he could put it on – I protested and said I would do it myself ( I didn’t want his hands on me) but he simply held it there, and I had no choice but to lean forward and let him do it. I could smell the stink of cigarettes on his fingers as he played around my throat pulling it first tighter and then looser and then tighter again, and I hated the sour smell of his breath and smell of cheap alcohol coming from him – but what could I do if I wanted to get in and see Jake later? So I stood there and endured it, and began to feel a bit like a real slave who had no choice but to stand in a showroom like Scabbard & Drass and have potential buyers run their hands all over them.
At last it was over and I went to go through into the bar. “Not so fast, boy! There’s a house rule about what slaves wear….”
“Well this is what I wore last time – this collar, and I took my shirt off….”
“Last time you were in shorts. Jeans are only allowed on free men. And free men must be over twenty-one. So lose the jeans, or get out.”
Another order! What could I do? Sure, I had a choice, I could walk out. But then I’d have to stand in the street, and Jake had warned me about muggers. And if I went home he might think I’d stood him up and I might not see him again. I felt a bit like a slave who’s been given an order he doesn’t want to obey – he has a choice, but that choice is pretty unpalatable as it will probably involve a cane. So I unbuttoned my jeans and took them off – after all, my boxers were, as I’ve told you, new and pretty sharp, so I had nothing to be concerned about really as they were no more revealing that my swimming shorts were. Except of course that I’d be going into a bar full of guys and would probably be the only one bare except for a pair of shorts. Still, what could I do?
I was feeling almost sick with apprehension as I pushed open the door into the bar. It was a lot fuller than when I’d been before, with a lot of guys clustering around the bar, and some even dancing together to some raunchy music on a small dance floor area towards the end. The noise level from the conversations was very high as guys had to almost shout above the music, but it seemed to go noticeably quieter as I made my way through the throng looking for Ray and Stu. I didn’t dare hesitate or slow down as I knew somehow that any hesitation on my part would ‘encourage’ some of the guys to start touching my body, and I was really glad when I saw the two sitting in the same somewhat secluded booth as they had been before.
“Come and sit with us, Steve”, Stu called out. “Jake called us and asked us to look out for you.” I was really pleased to hear that – I obviously meant something to Jake – and I slid into the booth opposite the two men. But Stu immediately got up and came and sat beside me, really close, and I felt the rough cloth of his cheap plaid shirt and ‘work’ jeans against my bare chest and thighs.
Without asking me what I wanted Ray gestured to one of the waiters and ordered three beers – I’d have preferred a soda, or a glass of wine, but as I looked around I saw all the men were drinking beer, and made a mental note that this was another of those things I had to be careful about – perhaps real men in bars didn’t drink wine! The waiter reappeared remarkably quickly with three big glasses – the litre size, I’m sure – and I understood why he had been so keen to service us as Ray, after he’d paid the tab on the waiter’s tray, took a new dollar note and started to tuck it under the thin rope holding the slave’s tiny loincloth in place – and as he did so his hand ‘casually’ brushed the loincloth aside so that Stu and I could clearly see his dick and balls. Ray looked enquiringly at Stu, who nodded, and Ray then bent and whispered something in the kid’s ear: he looked pretty pleased by this, and scuttled away off towards the bar where he spoke to one of the bar tenders, and I could see them both looking across at us and were clearly making some arrangement.
Ray and Stu raised their glasses and I knew I needed to do the same, and quaffed down a huge quantity. I really only wanted to sip my beer as I didn’t want to get even slightly affected by the alcohol, but Stu leaned close to me and asked “Something wrong, Steve?”
“…then drink your drink like a real man.”
Well, what could I do? I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp, so I took a deep swallow, and then another as Ray and Stu raised their glasses again. Soon we’d had at least half a litre, and I started to hope that Jake would be with us soon as I neither wanted to get drunk nor to brave the rest rooms by myself!
The young waiter came back over, with four glasses this time and now slid into the booth to sit beside Ray. These glasses were much smaller and there was the chink of ice cubes, and I realised they were whiskey. Ray and Stu picked up their glasses, the kid did the same, and I knew I was expected to be the fourth. We ‘clinked’ glasses together, then I saw the three of them all toss down the drink in one movement, and I knew I had to do the same. It burned my throat and I knew that coughing and spluttering would be unsophisticated so I downed another big gulp of my beer to try to stop my reaction.
As I watched in fascination Ray put his arm around the young slave and pulled him close, then with his other hand reached down and pulled the tiny loincloth right out of it’s holding rope, so the guy was totally naked except for the rope around his slim waist. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ray then started to stroke the kid’s dick, and of course he responded with an erection.
Stu leaned close to me again and I felt his arm tightening as he pulled me even closer to him, as Ray was doing with the young slave, and I thought that at any moment he’d reach for my dick. But he was only doing it so that he could make himself heard above the noise in the bar so he could whisper in my ear “It’s OK, Steve – Ray likes them young! You don’t have to be worried that it’s illegal or anything as this club is really strict – they make absolutely sure the waiters are sixteen.”
“But he’s drinking… And Ray…”
“Steve, we’ve had this waiter before – Kenny – he’s a sweet kid, very obliging. He likes a drink, and he’s a slave, so it’s OK for him to drink, and for Ray to play with him as he’s sixteen, as I told you. It’s you who’s illegal, as a matter of fact… You’re not twenty one, are you?”
I didn’t want to reply as dad says you should never admit to anything incriminating, and watched as Ray now put his hand behind this Kenny’s head, and pushed it down towards Ray’s crotch. Kenny fumbled at the fly on Ray’s jeans, and reached inside, but I couldn’t see properly as his naked back was then half turned towards Stu and me. But I could tell from the movement of his arms and head that he was sucking Ray’s dick!
Stu must have felt my body tense as he leaned forward to whisper to me again “Ray really is terrible! He’s so virile he can’t even wait until we get home. I think he finds it a bit of a thrill to have sex in a semi-public place like this, and I’m always worried we’ll get thrown out of the club as the management doesn’t really like public lewdness as it’s prohibited in their licence from the city. But don’t worry, he’s being discrete tonight and is just having some harmless fun in one of these booths is normally OK – it’s when Ray wants to dance with the kids and his dancing gets him so inflamed he wants to spear them on his dick and carry on that the problems start to arise!”
I didn’t realise how naive I was when I managed to half-shout back at Stu “But Kenny’s only sixteen and Ray’s old enough to be his dad – and even though Kenny’s a slave it can’t be right to have Ray make him suck his dick…”
“Not ‘making him’, Steve! It looks to me as if Kenny is enjoying it as much as Ray is. And even before the reintroduction of slavery, you know, there were young guys who liked older men. Not so many, as there are a few ‘incentives’ for young slaves, but once a kid has learned what’s expected of him, he usually starts to find it’s kind of fun.”
“Incentives? You mean he’s caned until he does it?”
“Well perhaps initially to get a young slave started. But once that’s happened they pretty much learn to like it. Think about it, Steve – a young slave like Kenny working here all hours, then being boarded out in a slave kennels as it’s cheap… And now he’s getting to experience a bit of fun, a bit of consideration from a guy like Ray…. Who wouldn’t want that? And, anyway, we’ve had him before – he’s quite a mercenary little blighter as he’s determined to save enough to buy into one of those slave co-ops before his charm fades.”
He squeezed me encouragingly and added “Shall we leave them to it? I expect you’ve seen enough dicks being sucked. Come and dance….”
He pushed me along the seat of the booth and I had no option but to stand up, he followed, then grabbed my arm and led me towards the dance floor, so I had no choice. I’ve been to dances of course – even though any suggestion of even the most innocent kind of sexual contact was absolutely forbidden, we had them at high school (with the number of chaperones almost exceeding the number of dancers!), so I knew what to do – no touching, lots of smiling, plenty of movement in time with your partner… It wasn’t exactly like this at the club as the music was a lot raunchier and the movements a lot fiercer. But at least there was one good thing – a lot of the guys had stripped their shirts off, so I didn’t feel quite as embarrassed as I had about being bare above the waist. And in the dim light my ‘slave collar’ was barely visible.
It went on for what seemed like an age, and I soon felt myself sweating from the activity, as were all the guys around us. Then when it did stop Stu led me back to the table and we drained our beers and he laughed and told me that it was good to have a fit young guy like me to dance with, as Ray didn’t much care for it. I noticed that Ray did seem to care for sex, though, as Kenny was now kneeling under the table and the only part of him we could see was his bare shoulders and his head which seemed to be pushed right down into Ray’s crotch.
Stu took me back onto the dance floor and we jogged and pranced around for about ten minutes more, before we went back to the booth – we were both dripping with sweat and Stu had taken his shirt off and I could see drops of it glistening in the dark hair on his chest: he was a bit like dad, actually, and in pretty good shape I reckon, for an older guy.
We sat down, and now Ray was sitting there with a smile on his face, simply hugging Kenny to him. “Another drink…” He said to Stu, and pushed Kenny out of the booth. I couldn’t believe it – the poor kid had to make his way through the men around the bar totally naked except for the thin rope around his waist, and as he stood waiting for the drinks to be poured, two or three guys stroked their hands over his butt. He didn’t seem to mind, though, and came back with four more whiskeys on his tray – he was sort of half erect, his dick plumped up with blood but not rampantly reaching for the sky. He sat opposite me and smiled across the table, picked up his glass expectantly, and I knew I would have to do the same so we could ‘clink’ them together, and swallow it down.
“Easy on!”, Stu told me. “You kids need to slow it down a bit! We know what guys your age are like – and we don’t want any puking tonight.”
I really didn’t like the way he refereed to Kenny and me as ‘kids’ – I mean, so OK Kenny was only sixteen, but it was my eighteenth soon. And by thinking of us collectively like that he wasn’t only misjudging my maturity, but he was putting me in the same category as a slave! I sat there and I suppose I looked kind of sulky, as Stu leant over to say something to Ray, then moved to say into my ear “Cheer up, Steve…. We’ve got something to put a smile on your face…”
There was some shuffling around my feet, then hands went on my knees – I looked down and there was Kenny’s head between my open legs, with his hands resting on my bare knees. He grinned up at me an winked seductively, then his head went down and he started to lick the outline of my dick through the cotton of my boxer shorts. “No…”, I moaned, and would have pulled away if Stu hadn’t again put his arm around my shoulders and was almost restraining me.
Kenny’s hands left my knees, and as I stared down I could see him opening my fly, and then his hand was on my dick, teasing it out into the open. I moaned again, and I was now so hard that it almost hurt. He lowered his head…. And I bucked upwards at the sensation of his lips around my dick. “No….”, I moaned again, but with such excitement that I don’t think anyone would believe me. Some small part of me was telling me that having my dick sucked by a guy I’d never met, with two men old enough to be my dad watching, wasn’t right – but somehow the alcohol had got to me and I couldn’t – or wouldn’t – summon the energy to stop it.
Ray and Stu sat there smiling and clearly enjoying seeing Kenny sucking me off – or were they enjoying seeing my evident discomfort – not only was I experiencing intense erotic pleasure from my dick so I was uttering little cries and bucking my hips up and down as much as I could, but I knew I was blushing deep scarlet with the embarrassment of having these two guys – who I hardly knew – looking at me like this: it was as if I was actually taking part in a porn movie, instead of watching it as they now were.
Look, we all know what happens when a guy’s sucking your dick, especially an experienced one like I assumed Kenny to be: there’s an irresistible urge, isn’t there, to put your hands on the guy’s head and pull him down onto you so that he takes more and more of your dick in his mouth and throat? I simply couldn’t help myself and did this, and even when Kenny began to splutter and choke (I’ve got a big dick, remember), I didn’t want to stop – if anything Kenny’s discomfort added to my own enjoyment.
I suppose I’d have gone on and on until I shot my load, but suddenly I heard above the din from all around me in the club “Steve?” I looked up and saw Jake standing there, still in his S & D uniform. I was so embarrassed now as I imagined he’d assume I wanted Kenny to be doing this – it wasn’t my idea, as you know, it was Ray’s! My hands that had been pulling Kenny’s head down onto my dick now rather roughly pushed him off, and I got further embarrassed as I realised Jake would be looking at my rampantly erect dick, slimed with Kenny’s throat juice, and with the darker pink of the head fully exposed as of course my ‘skin had retracted. Frantically I scrabbled to get my dick back inside my shorts.
“So, couldn’t wait, eh, Steve? I suppose that’s what life’s like for a young stud like you… I’d hoped we might continue our little session of yesterday… But I see you have other interests…”
“No, Jake… It’s not my fault, they…”
Jake laughed, and I saw he’d been joking with me all the time. “Oh, Steve – ‘not your fault’? Someone ‘made’ you put your dick in a guys’ mouth?” He took his prod off his belt and gesticulated with it to Ray and Stu. “I normally have to use a little bit of this to get some new slaves to put their dicks about, and so I have to admire you guys: you’ve got some magic method that works on Steve here – and he’s a pretty independent sort of guy and yet you can force him get a blow job?”
All three of them laughed then, and I did my best to join in with them as I didn’t want to seem to be a spoil sport. The three of them decided to leave without Jake having a drink as they could have one later, and all five of us headed to the door. In the entrance lobby my collar came off and I put my shirt and coat on as Ray, Stu and Jake also put on their top coats, but Kenny stood there totally naked except for the rope still.
“Something for the slave, sir?” The doorman asked Ray, who shook his head. “No, we haven’t got a long way to go and there’s not much chance of the cops seeing us at this time of night.”, and he pushed his way out of the door into the street. The cold air hit me as I went through – I’m not used to a lot of alcohol and now I felt very light-headed. Ray, Stu and Jake started off sown the street and I went to follow, until I realised Kenny was looking distressed – the sidewalk must have been very cold on his bare feet, and he was hugging his arms around his body to try to keep warm. I couldn’t help looking down at his dick, and it was kind of shrivelled up with the cold, and his balls had retreated up in to his body and his sac was pressed hard against the bottom of his dick.
“Hey!”, I called to the men. “Come back – we need to get something for Kenny…”
Ray turned “It’s only about eight blocks. He’s a slave. It’s only just below freezing. He’ll live!”
They walked on, and I realised I didn’t know where we were going so I couldn’t go back into the club myself. So I pulled off my topcoat and gave it to Kenny, and we both jogged to catch up with them. I was cold now as I’d only had a short-sleeved polo on under my top coat, and I started to shiver, and I wished I could ask for my top coat back – I suppose that’s indicative of how inexperienced I still was: I should have ignored Kenny’s plight as the others had, as Ray was right: there was no danger of Kenny actually freezing to death. But having made the mistake of giving him my coat, I should have commanded him to give it back to me the moment I was uncomfortable with the temperature. It’s simple enough to do, after all – just tell the slave to give me my coat, and I know he would have obeyed.
Kenny and I did some stuff to try to keep warm – the guys were striding out at a pretty fast pace anyway, but Kenny and I criss-crossed from one sidewalk to another, and stuff like that, to do a lot more exercise. Suddenly the realisation came to me that to any observer we must look like a group of three owners with a couple of young slaves gambolling around behind! So I slowed down to the same pace as the three ahead, and shivered for the last few blocks.
I knew where we were when we turned onto main street – not far from the station, and at the base of ‘The Towers’. There had been huge controversy when the place had been built about four years ago as it was said that thirty five floors was completely out of character for the town – but the developers argued their case (and dad said they’d paid huge bribes) to get it done as they said that there were many rich New Yorkers who wanted to live in the suburbs but who wanted fast access to the city. A luxury apartment in The Towers, across the street from the station, gave them just that, and it was well known that the price of the apartments was such that you needed to be rich, very rich, to be able to afford one. It was said that you never needed to go into Scarsdale at all – The Towers came equipped with restaurants, bars, a health club and pool, indoor tennis courts, services such as a hairdresser, dry cleaners and a slave grooming parlour, so you could live there in isolation and only needed to cross the street to and from the train. Indeed the theme of being ‘a part of the city’ rather than being part of Scarsdale was carried to such an extreme that there were reported to be very, very few pony stabling facilities in the subbasement as residents didn’t need a trap as there was nowhere they went except to the station (and, of course, to the club, for Ray and Stu – although I didn’t expect a whole lot of the other residents would share their taste for that aspect of Scarsdale life).
Two liveried slaves opened the street door for us and smartly bowed to Ray and Stu, who totally ignored them as you’d expect, and we crossed the lobby to the elevators. Look, I live in a big place, and I’m used to seeing the houses of my buddies, but this was something else: there were fountains, huge vase of tropical flowers, concierge slaves who were not sitting behind a counter but standing respectfully on the route to the elevators, who all bowed and said good evening to Ray and Stu, by name. But most of all there was that precious commodity ‘space’: the lobby was triple height and covered the whole ground floor – I wondered how many more expensive apartments could have been fitted in instead, but then that’s what they were paying for, I suppose.
We didn’t go into the elevators, but instead there was a slave standing there who touched a button and a private elevator, marked ‘penthouse’, opened. I realised that this was the slave’s only job: to stand there, hour after hour, in case Ray or Stu wanted the elevator. It made me think a bit – I mean, the labouring slaves who kept our grounds neat had to work physically very hard indeed, but at least they got a bit of variety! What on earth did this poor guy do simply standing there hour after hour, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed? He’d be bored to death, I should think, and that would be worse than unrelenting physical toil.
There was another slave inside the elevator, too, so that Ray and Stu did not even have to press a button to start it off. It’s not as if these slaves were low quality, either: both were strong and muscular looking and clearly would sell for a premium, and I further thought that they must spend a lot of time in a gym to remain like that – which would imply there’d need to be at least four of them to provide cover, in case Ray and Stu came home unexpectedly. The slave in the lobby had been in the same uniform of a tight top and breeches tied below the knee with ribbons as had the door openers and concierges, with “The Towers” embroidered across the front and back. But here in the elevator the slave wore no breeches and was naked from the waist down!
Stu saw me looking and remarked “The residents – well most of us – want all the slaves to dress like this, but there are some rich old bags around who make such a fuss at the annual meeting of owners that it’s easier to let them have their own way – except here in our private elevator, of course”. Stu nodded to indicate we were ready, and I was expecting the salve to press a button to start us off. But instead he jerked at his dick – he had been semi-erect when we got in – and went to a full erection, then turned and pressed his dick into a hole in the elevator wall, and at once the doors began to close. Stu saw me looking in utter amazement, and added “Great, isn’t it? It was our idea. And it means we don’t have to worry about the slaves pleasuring themselves by jerking off when we’re not around – they have to be ready to go hard instantly, so daren’t risk jerking off!”
“Yes”, Ray added. “Although we did have a secret key added after we were stuck here once for a couple of minutes as a slave simply couldn’t get it up! Still, that was when we first moved in, and it was better to find that out then, rather than have the embarrassment of bringing important clients home and having to wait. So the secret key, and the knowledge that the slave in question was flogged until he as almost dead, has fixed the problem.”
The doors opened then and I gasped in astonishment at the view from the wall to wall floor length windows. Ray and Stu hardly noticed it seemed, and went on into a vast living room with a real fire burning in a big open fireplace: it was tended by a naked slave who knelt there and he looked really uncomfortable as he was very close and it must be burning his skin. Certainly he was sweating profusely and I could see the flickering flames reflecting in the planes of his totally smooth muscular body. This was real wealth in action , and even though dad was rich I knew he’d never squander it on a slave like that: we did have a fire in winter but I had to throw the logs on! Mind you, I wondered if at Thanksgiving or Christmas when I was home from college I could order Reb to perform like that.
Ray and Stu sat on a couch with Kenny between them, indicating that Jake and I should sit on one opposite. Two serving slaves almost immediately brought beers, and I had to drink again as Jake clinked his glass against mine and I needed to be doing the right thing. Ray then told the slaves to get out and go to bed and leave us alone, and Stu shrugged and apologised. “You’ll have to excuse Ray”, he told Jake and me “He’s a bit old fashioned! He doesn’t like doing some things in front of the slaves – not that he’s shy normally, but somehow he doesn’t like to be watched when he’s enjoying himself. I’ve even suggested he has a little therapy as it’s so irrational to be concerned about a slave watching you, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not as if it’s a man doing it.”
I was going to agree, but Jake leaned over and started kissing me! I was overcome with the alcohol and didn’t even feebly resist him, although I’m not sure I wanted to. Soon our hands were all over each other and we were stripping off each others clothes. Suddenly I panicked, realising that Stu and Ray were watching us, but as I looked over at the other couch both of the men were now pawing at Kenny, and his head was bobbing backwards and forwards as he sucked each of their dicks in turn.
There was something wrong then, though – even though Jake went back to his passionate embraces, I simply couldn’t. Ray might like privacy from slaves, and I certainly wanted to be away from the eyes of two free men watching us! I sat up and pushed Jake away, and I heard Stu laugh. “You told us he was new to this, Jake, but he really is green, isn’t he?”
Jake murmured “Steve’s OK, just a little nervous… Give him a few more minutes…”
“No, I don’t want… I won’t….” I managed to stutter.
Ray came over and stood by Jake now – I’ve told you Jake’s a fit virile guy, but somehow Ray seemed very menacing standing there. “So if you’re not going to give us a little show, we’d better find some other use for young Steve here. Stu and I both need our drinks freshening up, so Kenny can do one, and Steve the other.”
What the heck were they talking about, I wondered? But Jake had stood up now and I did so too, and as he’d done before he now reached down to the hem of my polo to peel it up over my chest and head. “What the fuck…”, I started to say, but Jake kind of shushed me, and whispered in my ear “Just do as I say, please, Steve…. It will be OK, honestly… Just help me out here, will you?”
So I let him take my polo off, then he bent down and undid my jeans and slid them down my legs – he was looking up at me all the time he did this, and I felt somehow reassured.
Ray had a kind of evil grin on his face now as he saw me standing there in my shorts. I felt embarrassed, but, after all, I’d been like this in the club. He called Kenny over and told him to stand by me, and said quietly “So, two nice young guys ready to serve… Now, both of you, take our glasses, go over to the bar, and bring us fresh drinks.”
I was outraged. “I’m not a fucking slave! Get your own drinks, or call your own slaves back, or just use Kenny….”
“Control the boy”, Ray told Jake, and Jake turned to me “Come on, Steve, it’s only a game…
It won’t hurt you – don’t you get your dad a drink at home? It’s only the same thing here. Please, Steve, help me out…” He sounded kind of desperate, so I thought that as it was no big deal, I could at least do this.
Kenny was standing there naked and mostly boned up, and I went to go with him to the big bar in the far corner, but Ray called out “Hold on a minute! Do we spot any differences in the boys? Kenny’s showing us his cute ass, but Steve seems ashamed of his body… Drop those shorts, boy!”
I was so amazed that I froze. I heard Jake pleading “Come on, Ray – you can’t expect that! Steve’s not a slave, he isn’t used to going around naked….”
Ray handed Jake something and I thought he sounded very menacing. “You owe us, Jake, don’t forget that. Now, if this boy of yours doesn’t want to be as naked as Kenny here, get him to wear this.”
Jake looked at what was in his hand and looked at me. “Come on, Steve…” He said, taking me by the arm and leading me off back towards the lobby. I went to pick up my jeans but he hissed “leave them” and continued to lead me out.
In the lobby there was a guest washroom – except that it was more like a full bathroom as there were huge mirrors, a double sink, a walk-in shower, and all that sort of stuff. Jake closed the door behind us and stood there looking very miserable. “Steve, I’m going to have to ask you to help me, help me big time…. We are buddies, aren’t we? And a guy will do almost anything to help a buddy out, right?”
I nodded, unsure of myself, but I guess he was right. Jake came over and started kissing me and soon any doubts I had were lost as I felt his body against mine and his hands roaming up and down my back. He broke off, and we both looked at each other, panting slightly.
“Look, Steve, I owe Ray and Stu – they helped me get my own apartment. I was broke, had no job… They helped me a lot…. I really owe them…. They’re great guys, really good to know… I often come around here…. It’s OK really, but you don’t want to cross them….”
He stopped. Then he pulled something out of his pocket. “I need you to wear this, Steve. Please…. Buddy…” I peered at his hand, and he was holding a thin gold chain and a ring, as I’d made Reb wear yesterday.
“No way!” I could feel my anger rising. “No fucking way!”
“PLEASE, Steve. You’ve got to help me.. They could foreclose on the loan on my apartment. They know Mr Scabbard – I could be out of a job. Homeless, no job, and without a college degree no chance of getting one… What do you think would happen to me? I only narrowly avoided it a year ago…”
I knew what he meant. He’d get enslaved for debt. I wanted to help him. So I muttered “Well I could buy you… Or get dad to….”
“Fuck me, Steve! You really don’t get life, do you? Do you think it would help me if I was enslaved and you bought me? I’d no longer be free – I’d be like an animal. And yes, if you bought me it would be better than being bought by some vile old pervert. But you’d never enjoy it, Steve – do you want a buddy, a real buddy, someone who you can hang out with, tell your secrets to, do stuff with…. Or do you only want a slave? You’ve got Reb – it’s not the same being with me as it is being with Reb, is it?”
I didn’t know what to do. The alcohol was confusing my brain. I’m usually able to see all sides of an argument and make a decision quickly, but now I couldn’t. I wanted Jake, wanted him to do stuff with me as we had at first. I didn’t want him as a slave – I wanted him as a buddy. But I couldn’t wear that utterly demeaning ring thing, could I?
“Steve, please. Please, buddy…” Jake sounded almost scared now, and I guess that must have tipped the balance, as I found myself dropping my shorts, and took the thing out of his hand.
“I’d better do this”, Jake told me as he dropped to his knees and started to fasten the thin gold chain around my waist. He ‘sawed’ it back and forth, telling me to keep calm and stand still as he needed to get it settled as low as possible without it slipping off. But I kept shuffling around as I wanted to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible, and Jake suddenly slapped my ass! “I told you to keep still”, he snapped.
I was even more confused now. He’d gone for caring to commanding so instantly. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. I should have walked out, should have gone and offered to get dad to buy Jake’s mortgage from Ray, or something, but I simply stood there.
“There’s a problem, Steve”. Jake sounded apologetic now, as if he was genuinely sorry. “These things are intended for guys – mostly slaves – who’ve had their bushes trimmed, like Reb – the holding chains will snag in yours…. So there’s nothing for it….”
He opened a cupboard cleverly concealed behind one of the mirrors – some part of me wondered how the fuck he’s even known it was there, but I was now so confused I couldn’t follow the thought – and got out a pair of those rechargeable clippers you see in all the catalogues of slave supplies. Almost before I realised it, he was on his knees in front of me again and now his arm was curled around my butt as if to hold me steady – I could easily have broken away, but somehow Jake’s arm exerted a pressure on me that I couldn’t – or perhaps didn’t want to – escape from.
I heard the clippers buzzing, and the tops of my feet felt my pubes falling down on to them. Jake was so businesslike now I felt powerless to stop him. He settled the chain around me finally, and I felt the coolness of the loose end slip down my ass crack. Then he threaded my dick through the ring, and fiddled around attaching the two suspensor chains to the one around my middle. “There!” He sounded almost triumphant as he turned me around to show me myself in the mirror.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream obscenities at him. I hated him for what he’d done to me. I wanted him to throw his arms around me and kiss me again, to hold me tight. I looked at my shaved pubes and I was so confused. I did nothing, and stood there silently – a bit amazed at how much bigger my dick and balls looked now they were not surrounded by a forest of hair.
Putting his hands on my shoulders so that I felt powerless to prevent it, Jake gently guided me out into the lobby and back across into the main room. The two men stopped playing with Kenny, and their eyes swivelled to my dick. Jake pushed me gently forward and my toes curled reflexively into the thick pile of the carpet, just as I had seen Reb’s do when I had made him strip so I could see his body. I felt more totally humiliated than I ever had at any time in my life before. I started to blush. I could feel the sweat break out all over my body. The thin chain slid up and down my ass crack as I moved across the room, its shivering sensation exceeded only by the feeling of the ring as it slid up and down my dick. I felt my dick start to stiffen, not only from the sensation of the ring but because I knew I was being displayed for these men’s pleasure.
When I had been in a locker room, or even when I’d been naked with Jake, I was just that. But now I was something else. I was now nude, something that had been created, dressed up, displayed, for the titillation of these men. I began to understand how Reb had felt when I had forced him to humble his magnificent body in this same way.