Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 20:31:01 -0400
From: Savagetrainer@aol.com
Subject: 'Odessa Ranch 18'{Ian Jacobs}( MM, sm, ws, scat, bd )[18 of ?]

Odessa Ranch 18

Too many changes too fast will cause any system to go out of equilibrium.
Sam's playing with his situation, obviously his full right and privilege,
was causing a strain.  He had doctors and dentists on his payroll and used
them regularly.  He also had a couple of high-ranking cops on 'retainer,'
just in case.  The agreement was that Sam would be contacted if the police
were coming or if a former slave was pissed off enough to ruin the
situation for everyone else.

Mascot and Nod

	Noah and Scott move the wooden crate from the back of Noah's SUV to
his bedroom-he wants to show Scott his purchase outside the eyes of the
other slaves.  He opens the crate and pulls the chain that was hanging from
a nail just inside the door.  A tall, lanky boy stumbles out and stands up.
He is nearly six feet tall and thin.  It is obvious that the boy is
muscled, but not broad muscles-they are more wiry.  His long cock is uncut
and ends a good two inches below his low hanging balls.  His body is
smooth, only the crotch has a small patch of black hair.  He is attractive,
but looks very serious, tapering jaw firm, lips making a straight line.
His hair is black and fairly long, about half way down his neck, and
unkempt.  He stands at slave attention, with his eyes facing the floor,
hands bound behind his otherwise upright body.  He is also the source of a
complex, animalistic smell that Scott cannot decipher.

	Scott moves around to get a look at the slave's back.  His back and
ass are lightly scarred with fine welts; most are obviously fairly old, but
a few of them are still somewhat freshly red.  His ass is also branded,
just on the upper hip on his right cheek.  It just says 'slave;' it too is
fairly old.

	"What are these welts from, Noah?"  Scott says, almost like he is
looking at a used car.

	"His masters used a cane on him sometimes, this one still has some
spirit I'm told."

	"How old is he?"

	"As far as you and I know, he is 18."

	"You mean he ain't.  Damnit Noah."

	"Wait a second Scott.  First off, this isn't any worse than the
kidnapping you are already down for if Rex gets away before he can be
broken.  This one is already broken as far as that goes."

	"You said he still had spirit."

	"Yes, but see, this is the only kind of life Mascot has known, he
bucks sometimes like any strong animal, but he ain't going to run."

	"What?  He's always been a slave?"

	"Yep, doesn't even have birth certificate.  Or one that really
belongs to him anyway.  When I paid for him, they gave me a birth
certificate for Stephen Matthew Burroughs who turned 18 last month."

	"You're fucking kidding me!"  Scott is by halves impressed and
secretly horrified.

	Mascot continues to stand unwavering uncannily still.  The men
discuss him and his situation as if he were not present.

	"Look, Scott, I know where you're going and you should probably
stop asking questions.  You know I won't tell any lies if you ask, but if
you want any level of deniability, you'll just keep in mind his name is
Stephen Burroughs and he is 18 and leave it at that."

	"Yeah, but as you said, I'm already in it deep since I did that
shanghai to Rex that you talked me into."  Scott's ire rises, but he keeps
it in check, barely.  The color brightens on cheek and neck.  "Fuck, man.
I need to take a walk."

	"Whatever it takes, Scott."  Noah says as Scott leaves the bedroom.
Then to Mascot: "Let's get you introduced to your pigmates."

[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []

In the area where northeast Washington, northern Idaho, and northwest
Montana meet is not all that dissimilar from the wild west in that law is
handled almost wholly locally.  Unlike the wilder west, this strange corner
of the country isn't lawless at all; they work with their own, typically
strict, laws.  Take for instance the white power encampments in and around
Hayden Lakes, Idaho, or the Freeman in northwest Montana.  They may thumb
their noses at the laws of the nation, but they have very strict laws of
their own.

Straddling the Kaniksu National Forest in Idaho and the Kootenai National
Forest in Montana, in the triangle of road less territory bound by Bonner's
Ferry and Naples, Idaho and Troy, Montana is an area the specific
inhabitants call Nod (the few neighbors near that territory only know that
the inhabitants are part of an extremely tight and secretive religious
sect).

Nod was started about a hundred and fifty years ago just as that territory
was opening up.  The faithful used a form of hedonism to worship, but it
was a sort of schizoid hedonism.  Imagine sadism and masochism and sex in
general used with the same ritualistic attitude as a Catholic mass, the
oxymoron of a joyless hedonism.  Their general belief was that after Cain
received his mark and went east of Eden, he became super repentant-he would
engage in hedonistic and otherwise 'sinful' behavior, and meditate on
repentance while in the act, and doubly repent after.  It was their belief
that Cain's followers survived the flood because of the sincerity of the
proponent's beliefs and actions.

Given how their beliefs were often handled historically, they tended to
keep to themselves, since any of their proselytizers were at very least run
out of any town or village, or more commonly outright executed as heretics.
Theirs was a faith that tends to shy away from martyrdom.

The group in Montana numbered about three hundred when they moved to the
territory, and now numbers about six hundred.  Mindful of the dangers of
inbreeding, the society would send a few young men out to find 'mates' to
bring back-marriage wasn't something they performed, all men and women
fucked freely, and children were communally raised.

In the 1920's the states started raising the taxes on the land.  They had
always been nearly self-sufficient and rarely had to use any of the
services or store in the nearby towns, but never had predictable cash.  So
they had to find a way to make the money necessary to keep the states from
nosing any further into their lives.  So they turned to the Bible and found
what they needed-they used the story of Sara's handmaid giving her son for
Abraham and Sara to raise.  They sold two infants to two different
childless couples.  That gave them enough money to pay taxes for a couple
of years.

The original goal was to do that only just enough to take care of the tax
situation.  And this lasted through the late thirties.  Two events occurred
that put pressure on the group to expand their activities or disband.  The
triad of elders that instituted the policy died and some more aggressive
elders took over.  That might have led to a slight increase in the
activity, but the second pressure made it imperative that the baby sale go
into higher gear-the draft for the Second World War.  The draft would have
meant their end because it would mean all would have to register for all
the standard civil responsibilities (for instance, social security, the
birth certificate problem-as none in Nod had them).  It would have meant
that the society would be more exposed to all of the laws in the country,
meaning the end of the society and jail for many.

But to make that sort of change work, the elders had to create a certain
type of slavery for about a third of the group-to be chosen by lot.  They
had all of the standard rights and privileges of everyone except on one
area: reproduction.  They would be required to breed, but their offspring
would be sold.

>From that foundation, it was only a twenty-year span, another change in
elders, and one more biblical reference (Genesis 9:25) for them to start
offering young girls and boys as slaves to the outside world.

Mascot's parents were what the group called high rank slaves-the ones with
full rights but reproduction.  Once a high rank slavewoman became pregnant,
a die was cast.  If the number was one, the child would become a high rank
slave and stay in the territory; 2-5 the baby was sold to baby brokers; a
six meant the child would be kept as low slave and sold when a buyer was
found.  Infants to be sold were not given names; infants bound to slavery
were given pet type names to separate them further from their free
'fellows,' and high ranks that all had biblical names.

Keeping with the tradition, Mascot did not know, and would never discover,
who his parents were.  (This might sound stupid.  He would look like either
or both parents, so he would be able to figure out at least one parent.
This would be true if low slaves were given any access to mirrors-of which
there were very few to begin with.  The society would know which high
slaves bred to make Mascot, but he would never know.)  He was raised by the
master who was responsible for teaching his wards to read, write, and do
very simple math and for making sure that all of the menial tasks were
taken care of.  The low slaves were not 'owned' by anyone in the group, so
they had to report and respond to all free folk and high slaves alike the
same way.

The low slaves were not given any clothing except in winter, and they all
had to share pants and jackets when their duties required they be outside.
They performed any duty asked, from the domestic to the sexual.  A no or a
hesitation from the slave was handled in a very public manner with
whippings and other punishments.  In fact, all but the simplest of
punishments for spurring a slave to go faster were handled alike in the
public and formal manner.

Typically they were not offered up for sale until they turned 5.  At any
time, there were as many as 40 low slaves in the territory.  On the
occasion that a low slave hit puberty, they would begin breeding.  A low
girl bred with a low boy would always create a low slave.  The child born
of a low girl or boy bred with a high rank (or on rare occasions a totally
free folk) would go through the same die cast decision-making process.
Before a buyer was found for Mascot, he had been bred with two low slaves
and two high ranks.

One day he was called into the Elder's Cabin (off-limits to low slaves
unless they are being sold).  Without word or ceremony, the elders put a
collar on his neck and tied his hands behind him.  He saw Noah and how
strangely he was dressed, all delicate fabrics (jeans and a t-shirt
actually).

"Is this slave to your liking as was explained?"

"Mind if I take a closer look, a full inspection?"  Noah asks.

"By all means."

He stood as he was trained until Noah gave him commands.  He opened his
mouth when the man ordered, bent over, knelt and tasted the man's cock
(perfumed and salty in a way totally new to him).

"This slave is to my liking."

"Excellent, I have a couple of documents to get you while the slave is
crated."

	An elder attached a short chain to his collar and led him into
another room.  There he saw a plain wooden box.  The two elders lifted him
and placed him in it and helped position him.  Then they said the only
words any elder ever said to him: "Be blessed slave, be repentant, and do
always as your master commands."

"Yes Elder Sir."

Then the top was nailed quickly onto the crate.

He had time to think and pray as he was taught while being taken to his new
home:

Now I leave.  I am scared.  Masterteacher said this is the way, but I don't
want to go.  I know I have to, but I don't want to.  I will do what he
taught me to do.  I will serve with an open heart as much as I can.  I will
take my punishment with the only pride a slave is given.

Then he slept through the majority of the trip.

[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []

Mascot is led through a huge house with stairs and things he has never seen
nor heard of-his teacher told all the slaves that the outside world was
strange, but that it was their duty and responsibility to adapt to it and
suffer it.  It is warm outside and chilly in the house, goose pimples
appear on his chest, arms, and thighs.  The journey ends in a room that
smells of shit and piss and has two empty, squat cages side by side and one
stand up cage in it.  His master locks the chain to one of the cages.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes with your mates."

"Yessir," he says meekly.

Noah goes to the building site and calls Hayden aside.

"'Sup Noah?"

"I got the slave I told you about.  I'm going to introduce him to these two
and let him fuck one of them."  "Sure guy.  Where is the new one?"

"I put him in the dungeon, he's chained to Rex's cage for now."

Hayden turns and yells, "Double time it turds to the dungeon, NOW."

A distant "yes Taskmaster" from the two slaves as they drop their tools and
run to the dungeon.

Crete and Rex stand at the doorway to their home and see the new one
chained to a cage.  The boy looks up shyly at both of the sweaty and grimy
men.  He kneels with his large cock hanging freely, but shakes his head so
that his black hair covers his eyes.  He blushes slightly.  Noah and Hayden
arrive in a moment.

"Crete, Rex, this slave is called Mascot.  Mascot, the one on the left is
Crete, the one on the right is Rex."

"Hi bro," Crete says trying to sound welcoming.

"Hello," Mascot almost whispers.

"Mascot had a pretty long ride getting here and I want him to feel
welcomed.  Mascot, pick one of these slaves to fuck."

"Fuck sir?"  Mascot asks Noah, a confused look on his face.

"Oh that's right.  What do you call that?"  Noah asks pointing at Mascot's
cock (Crete and Rex give each other sideways looks of concern).

"Pecker sir."

"What do you call it when you put your pecker in another person?"

"Breeding sir."

"We'll teach you some new words later.  For now, pick one of these slaves
to breed."

In Mascot's world, there was no straight or gay.  Sex was sex.  All desire
was to be acted upon and repented.  The low slaves were usually the objects
of the action, but not always, and Mascot fucked males and females, and was
fucked by males.  They were to repent their orgasms too, but not nearly to
the extent that the general community did-the elders received a couple of
complaints from early slave buyers that when the slave came, they said a
strange prayer that was disturbing to the owner, so they stopped teaching
the slaves the specifics and mechanics of the atonement.  Mascot was well
practiced and experienced in sex, but had completely different words for
it.  So he looks at the two men, one a bit taller than the other, otherwise
both about the same.  Mascot doesn't know if there is a right or wrong
choice.

"May I smell them 'fore I pick sir?"

"Sure, whatever you want."  Noah says laughing a little as he unhooks the
chain from Mascot's collar.

Mascot travels the short distance to Crete and Rex on his knees.  He picks
Crete first.  He sniffs Crete's crotch and moves around and sniffs his ass
crack.  All eyes are on him as he does this, both men and both slaves
mystified by what they witness.  Then Mascot moves to Rex.  He sniffs Rex's
sac, then his hole.  Rex's smell is more musky and makes his pecker twitch.

"This one sir."  He is still timid with his words.

"Ok, breed."  Noah says.  He motions for Crete to kneel in a corner and
motions for Hayden to come closer so they can chat while they watch.

Mascot continues to kneel behind a standing Rex.  He strokes his limp cock
a couple of times until it becomes stiff.  His cock is 9" long and thicker
than it seemed it would be when Noah inspected him.  Then he grabs Rex's
cock and pulls him back and then into a kneeling position.  Then he uses a
his free hand to push Rex's back so that Rex gets on his hands and knees.
He hocks loudly and spits onto Rex's hole, then works some of the spit into
the hole.  He then spits on his own cock, rubs it to cover the head and
part of the shaft.  He sticks the cockhead in gently enough, but once the
head is past the anal lip, he rams the rest of his nine inches all the way
in.

Rex's head jerks up and he growls deeply.  He wants to scream but fears the
consequences too much to do it, so he pants.  Mascot's moves are fast, like
he skips the initial slower, feel-your-way strokes entirely and goes all
out from the get ready.

"Man, this is fucked up.  Is it a 'tard or something?"  Hayden whispers.

"Long story, I'll give you the whole story before I turn him over to you.
No he isn't retarded.  He probably has about a third grade education."

"How old is it?"

"To you of all people this shouldn't matter, but as far as we are all
concerned, he is 18."

"Man though, look at the way it shoves its . . . pecker in Rex.  Look at
that slave fucking squirm.  This new one definitely knows how to drive
ass."

"I'll go over it after Scott gets back, there's tons you need to know, and
it means you will have to tone down the way you work."

"Huh?  You said from the very first that I would be able to do anything I
wanted just about."  Hayden's whisper is clipped and louder than it should
be.

"Calm down sport.  You'll get to do that, but there are special
circumstances with this one that you will work around."

"Fine."  Hayden says and crosses his arms.  His time in the Costa Rican
purgatory meant that he is maturity was affected to the point that he was
still about 13 in some ways.

Mascot begins to grunt as he bucks.  Rex's semi-soft cock is dribbling on
the concrete-with each in-thrust a small spurt of precum drips on the
floor.  When he started, Mascot used his hips to thrust and pulled and
pushed Rex's ass in combination, now that he is close to cumming, he
focuses entirely on his own hip action.  The pitch rises in his grunting
and suddenly he pulls his cock out.  He finishes by squirting a hose worth
of cum, the initial cum shots went past Rex's head and hit the floor a
couple of feet further still.

It takes only a short moment for Mascot to control his breathing and say,
"Thank you sir."  He assumes the kneeling at-ease pose he was taught (for
him and his fellows position 4).  At the same time that he has his
breathing regulated, Rex is still panting and sweating, a little blood
drips from his hole.

"A'ite Rex, clean up the slavejizz from the floor and Mascot's cock."

"Sir yes sir."  He crawls through tense muscles and licks up the thick and
vaguely sweet cum.  Then he turns and crawls to Mascot.  Using only his
mouth and tongue, he slurps the still almost fully hard cock into his
mouth.  Mascot jumps when the lips hit his sensitive head inside its hood,
but relaxes into the warm tongue bath; the post-coital tongue bath is new
to him.

"Crete, Rex back to the site."  Noah barks.  Then to Hayden: "I'll go over
everything with you after dinner."

Then it is just Noah and Mascot.  Noah realizes this is the first he's been
alone with his new purchase-outside the box anyway.

"I have to ask.  How old are you?"  Noah stays leaning against Rex's cage,
where he stood for the breeding, Mascot kneels exactly as he has since he
came.

"18 sir."

"Well at least I know that that part of their training worked.  But forget
that for just this once, how old are you?"

"I don't know sir."

"Really?"

"Nobody told me sir."

"Ok.  Well, come on, I need to get you bathed, you have a stink I can't put
a finger on-and really don't want to."

"Yessir."  With hands still held behind his back, he rises from knees to
feet in a smooth, balanced motion.  He follows Noah inside the chilly
house.

He walks past the crate he came in and into the bathroom following Noah.
He stands at the door while Noah begins to run a bath.  Mascot yelps and
puts his hands to his ears.  Noah puzzles for a beat, then turns the water
off.  Mascot timidly puts his hands back behind his back.

"Scare you?"

"No sir, hurts sir, loud sir."

"Ok, stand next to the crate in there, I'll call you back in here in a
minute."

"Yessir."

Fuck, Noah thinks to himself.  I knew it would take some time to get the
kid used to his new environment, but I didn't think that something as
simple as running water would be that loud.  Then he looks around at all
the tile.

"Oh," he says aloud.  Then thinking, sure, this is just an echo chamber
that he would never have known.  Come to think of it, he probably has never
had a bath like this.  Damn it's like having a baby.  I have no idea how
hot to make this now.  I guess I'll run it colder than normal.

He fills the whirlpool tub only halfway.  His logic is that he will have
Mascot cover his ears as he gets the temperature right.

"C'mon back in."  A quiet, yessir, follows.  He steps back in and stands at
the door as before.

"No, come over here."  Again, a yessir, then he moves and stands next to
the tub.

"Have you ever been a bathtub?"

"No sir, slaves wash in a creek sir."

 "My slaves don't get many of these, so don't get used to it, but let's get
you in here and that stink off of you."

"Yessir."  He steps up on the bath ledge and steps in.  Mascot expects cold
water and his foot jerks out when he notices it isn't.

"Too hot?"

"Um, no sir.  It's warm sir, just surprised sir."

"Get in and have a seat.  I can make it warmer if you want."

If you want.  This is a phrase Mascot has heard other people say around him
but never to him.  It makes no sense.  He sits and the warm water relaxes
his muscles.  He smiles and sighs.

"Cover your ears, I'm going to run some more hot water in here, let me know
when it gets too hot."

"Yessir."  Then the water starts again.  His hands can barely keep out the
percussion from feeling like his eardrums are being torn apart.  After
fifteen seconds or so he says, "Too hot sir."  Noah cuts the hot and runs
in just a little cold.

Noah hands Mascot a washcloth.  Mascot dips the cloth in the water and
begins to 'wash.'  "Wait, here."  He takes the cloth from Mascot, grabs the
soap and lathers it for him with soap.  "Now do it."

"Yes sir."  The smell bites his nose.  It is so strong, the smell coats his
tongue like Noah's cock did when he tasted it.  He washes what he can, then
stops.

Noah takes the cloth and scrubs Mascot's back.  He sees that the water and
the washcloth are noticeably grimy.  It didn't appear on sight that the kid
was that dirty.  The grime must have been the same tan color of his skin,
Noah thinks.

"Going to have to drain this and start over."

"Yessir."  Mascot says grimly.  He suffers the sound again as the tub
fills.  His masterteacher told them all that the outside world was very
different from the world they knew, but he never got specific.  He never
told them that the outside was made of strong smells and very loud noises.
He suddenly realizes that there must be so much more that masterteacher
didn't prepare them for.  The fear makes him tear up.  Noah sees this and
stops the water again.

"Still too loud?"  Noah of course had seen slaves cry, and caused it often
enough himself, but this was different.  There is no intention of anything
close to it.  So this is disturbing.

"No sir.  I'm scared sir."  He stops the tears and slides back into the
water, pulling up his knees and wrapping his arms around them.

"I won't lie to you.  Your life here will be different, but you don't have
to be scared.  I'm not just going to throw you out with Crete and Rex and
expect you to do what they do.  The taskmaster you saw will take care of
your training.  I just wanted you to see the others."

"Yessir."  No tears now, but the statement lacked the conviction Noah
wanted to hear.

Washing Mascot's hair just underscores how much he, Noah, and Hayden were
going to have to learn.  He refuses to lie all the way back in the water;
the fear is just too strong.  He had never been swimming, and never had a
bath, so he fears the water the way animals can.  Noah goes to the kitchen
and grabs a big enough cup.  He returns and uses it to rinse the frightened
kid's hair.

Mascot dries off and stands at attention (position one for him) waiting.
He is curious though.  He said no when Noah told him he needed to lay back
to rinse his hair-Noah had said nothing, only paused for a second before
saying he would be back.  He knows there is a whipping, but he has no idea
how it will happen.  And everyone he has seen here is so much larger than
the punishment-master, whose own lashings were almost more than Mascot
could take.  So he says:

"May I ask a question sir?"

"Ok."

"When will I be punished?"

"Well, the taskmaster or Master Scott or I will decide that when something
happens."

"No sir, I meant for just now, when I said no sir."

"What?  Oh, you won't be getting away with that any more, but today is not
a usual day for you, so you won't get in trouble for that."

"Yessir."

Everyone Learns

	"You're going to let that hell'yun loose with the kid?"  Scott
says, scoffing.  He listened over dinner to Noah's story about Mascot's
bath.

	"Not loose exactly.  But let's face it, Hayden's cool to watch, but
if I let him continue to do what he's doing, Rex is going to lose it.  I
don't want any of these slaves to go rogue on us.  I think that working
with Mascot will tame some of Hayden's monsters."

	"What if it is just the opposite?  What if having to be nice to
Mascot, he takes out even more anger on the others?"

	"Scott, you're going to have to trust me.  After dinner I'm going
to talk with Hayden and explain the whole thing to him.  He will be
training Mascot at the site too, so we will be able to keep an eye on him."

	"What the hell is going to happen if you question Hayden on the way
he is treating Mascot while the other two watch."

	"Give me a little credit you fuck.  I'm not going to explain the
whole thing to you now.  If you want, come along as I give Hayden the
lowdown, then I think you'll understand what I'm getting at."

	All three men meet in the suite Noah had given Hayden.

	"So I'm going to have to change the way I do everything?"  Hayden
asks.

	"No.  You have the whole thing turned up to 11.  With this one I
want you to start at, say 7 and then ramp up to your normal routine."
Then: "I think you have gotten so good at what you do, that you are now
only focused on the edge you have-the very sharp and quick edge you have.
What I want you to do is tone down that edge when you work with Mascot.
He's strong and seems to have a quick enough mind, but he's also never seen
a television or a car.  I want him broken but not crazy."

	"It would fuck up the control over the other two."  Hayden says
smugly.

	This is all Noah could ask for: "So you're telling me that you
wouldn't be able to do both?  You couldn't raise Mascot to the level needed
from a slave here while also controlling two experienced pigs?  C'mon, you
can use your sadistic mind to find all sorts of way of explaining to all
three that 'fair' is a word as forbidden for a slave as no."

	Hayden feels a little cornered.  He 'knows' that Noah is right, but
his pride is resisting backing down.  A thought occurs to him.

	"I'll do it, but I want to train Rex in shit detail."

	"I told you he would get rougher on Rex if you did that."  Scott
says, jumping up.

	"Scott, sit!"  Noah says.  Scott sits slowly.  Noah considers both
men.  Each have their hackles up; Noah tries to smooth them.  "Scott, you
agreed at the beginning that all slaves would be ultimately treated the
same, right?"

	"Yes."  Scott stares at Hayden who stares back.

	"Goddamnit.  This is not a turf war you two.  Hayden, you are not
in a position to bargain, we agreed to that too, right?"  Hayden nods.
"Fine.  Now it is time that Rex start the training.  It is the only thing
that is separating the two now.  Scott, I know from watching him that Rex
is scared shitless about it-kidding aside.  It will remove a huge load of
stress on the pig if we go ahead and start it."

	Hayden smiles, almost like gloating.

	Scott sees this and reacts: "Fine, fine.  What about the new one
Noah.  The way you talked at dinner, you're in love with him, you going to
spare him from . . ."

	"Whoa.  Look, I don't have to justify what I do.  Do either of you
own any of this land or anything else for that matter?  But since you've
opened that door . . . I really had no idea what not having any contact at
all with a modern world would mean.  And that's why I want Hayden to go
easier on him starting out.  I paid money for him and I don't want the
money thrown away because Hayden makes him go rogue.  Make sense?  Would
you spend fifteen k on a car just to run it in the ground?"

	"You spent fifteen thousand dollars on that?"  Hayden is horrified.

	"Yes, and it is up to you to make sure I get more than that from
him."  Then thinking: I wonder what Hayden would say if he knew that
fifteen k was just a fraction of what I paid for Crete?

	"Now, Scott, it was time for you to take over some of the
supervision of the other two anyway since it is time for the actual
construction on the house to start.  So you will pick start with them
tomorrow.  Hayden, you get Mascot and start with him."  Noah says, then
gets up, ready to go.

	"Wait a second."  Hayden says, in a strange tone for him-soft.  "I
don't know where to start."

	Noah sits again.  "Ok, hum."  He pauses to consider the best
approach.  "Talk with him first to find out what he already knows.  Compare
that to what you know is expected here and begin working on a way to bridge
the gap.  I know you can do that well enough on your own, but if you need
help, ask.  Don't withhold the lash, just swing at about three-quarters to
start with and ramp up from there.  Also, I don't want you putting him in a
no-win situation just to whip him just yet; I want to see how he reacts to
the lash first before letting you use that technique.  Other than that, use
him how you want."  Standing again: "Are we all on the same page?"

	The two nod.  They both seem to accept the explanation and everyone
leaves pretty much at peace.

[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []

	Taskmaster feeds all three of us outside the cages for a change.
Mascot looks at the mush not sure what to do.  Then he sees us dig in like
dogs and apes us.

	Crete and I finish in the usual five minutes or whatever we are
limited to, Mascot doesn't.  Taskmaster just uses his boots, one to kick
the bowl from the slave, the other on the slave's shoulder to nudge him to
get back in position.  Rex or me would take at least one swipe with one of
his whips.  It's hard enough to stay even a little sane here, but with the
new one being treated so good . . . .

	"Ok, three pigs, two cages."  Taskmaster says.  "Since the new one
has already fucked Rex, some love might be in the air so I think y'all will
share tonight."

	Two hell, put him in the stand up cage.  But since I don't want to
be beaten AND have to share my cage I say, "Yes taskmaster."  Mascot says,
yessir.

	"Ok new pig, I'm not a sir, I'm a taskmaster, so that's what you
say to me, got it?"

	"Yes taskmaster."

	Holy shit.  I would be wearing half a dozen new red stripes on my
ass if I did that, but he gets nothing at all.  This fucker got a chance to
rip me open with his cock and now doesn't get any beating from a bastard
who could bring a SEAL to his knees.  And now I have to share my little
space with him.  At least he doesn't stink like he did when he fucked me.

	"In the cages."  We scuttle in and Taskmaster clicks the two locks
and leaves.

	"Have you always been a slave?"  Crete asks, his tone is
sympathetic, as if it were possible in this day to be like that.

	"Yes."

	"What?  You've always been a slave?  Bullshit."  I say.

	"I was born a low slave and served the village with the other low
slaves."

	"Whatever."  This is impossible.  This I smell a fart.  "Dammit
Crete."

	"Wasn't me dude."

	Not only is this kid a kid, he's totally delusional and is going to
torment us with his ass stink.

	"How long are we going to be in this box?"  Mascot asks.

	"Til morning."  I say trying to find a place to sleep that would
have me touch as little of him as possible.

	"I never slept in a box like this.  What happens if I have to
make?"

	"Make what?"

	"Water or dung."  He says sheepishly.

	"Oh god no.  You aren't going to make anything in here."

	"I'll try.  But I'm having tummy cramps."  He says and I smell
another fart.

	"Do whatever you can guy, we're stuck in here until morning and if
you fill it with your shit smell, we ain't in a position to get away from
it."

	"Calm down Rex.  I don't think he is kidding about anything.  He
seems too sincere to be lying like that."

	"Crete, I still ain't sure you are telling the truth about where
you came from, and his story seems even farther fetched.  I just want to
try to get some sleep."  I close my eyes just as I hear Mascot groan and
the smell of what I hope is just another fart.  It isn't.

	"I'm sorry."  He starts crying, a pile of mostly soft, green shit
is in the corner of the cage, just below his ass.  The smell is very sour
and acidic.  Fuck fuck fuck.

	"Hey, hey, calm down.  I know you couldn't help that.  Fuckers
probably put something in your food.  Come over here, lay here and just try
to go to sleep."  I help him maneuver so that he is lying on my stomach
with his ass pointed towards the mess he's already made.

	"I'm sorry."  He says again still crying.

	"It sucks, I know, but just calm down and try to go to sleep."

	"I want to know about where you came from."  Crete says.

	"Crete, I want to sleep, just shut the fuck up so we can all get
some fucking shuteye."

	"Rex, man, I think it'll calm him down to tell us some stuff.  If
you didn't sleep in a cage, where did you sleep?"

	"We slept in a barn."

	"You could go outside to make?"  Crete says in a soft, quiet
way-the way my old therapist used to use.

	"No, we used straw in a corner and cleaned it out every couple of
days.  It didn't stink in there like it does here.  It was quieter than it
is here."

	"Yes I guess it would be quieter if you didn't have to sleep in a
concrete room.  When did you get the brand on your ass?"

	"The what?"  He is actually calming down some.  Crete knows too
much about this sort of thing, too bad what he knows won't get that pile of
kid shit out of here.

	"You have a brand on your ass that says slave."

	"Oh, my mark.  I got it a few winters before I got hair on my
pecker.  All low slaves get marked when they are that size."

	"How did it happen?"  Fuck.  Crete is asking how this kid got
branded, and this is supposed to calm him enough to sleep?

	"They put the slave on a altar and tie hands and feet so they can't
wiggle.  The elder takes the hot stick out of the fire and puts it on the
slave's ass.  Everybody watches and they all clap when the slave stands up,
marked the way they are supposed to be."  He cramps again and has to move
to add some more of his stink to the pile.  "I'm sorry."

	"That's ok kid.  Let's all just try to get some sleep."

	"Yes."

	As usual, Crete is asleep like he can just flip a switch.  Mascot
squirms a little but is also quickly asleep.  I keep thinking.  Altar,
elder, the language this kid uses.  This is a fucked up world.  Crete
picked his bondage and there was a place for him to get it.  This kid has
always been a slave and there is a whole village with rituals and whatnot
for it.  I wanted to fuck a cute guy who looked like a healthy construction
worker, then go back home.  Instead I get drugged and wind up here whipped
every day, surrounded by the stink of myself and now two other guys.  No
one says the world is fair, but this is not fucking fair.

[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []

	"Holy fuck, Crete your stink is unbelievable."  Hayden says when he
comes to the dungeon to wake and feed the slaves.

	"Yes taskmaster, it isn't from me taskmaster."

	"Mascot?"

	"Yes, taskmaster, I'm sorry."

	"Whatever pig.  I guess the slavechow is just too rich for it.
Who'd have guessed this slop would be too rich for anything?"

	"Yes taskmaster."  Mascot says.

	He lets them out and they begin eating from the bowls set before
them.  Hayden keeps his shirt up to his nose.  He had thought about taking
Mascot outside and beginning his training, but reconsiders now that he is
reeling from the stink.  He will keep Mascot in the dungeon and start its
training here-away from Noah's eyes for at least a little while, so he can
establish the level of fear he wants from the slave.  When they
finish-Mascot finishes within the limit this time-Hayden orders Crete and
Rex to the site.

	"I think the first thing I have to do is teach it what we call
everything."

	"Yes taskmaster."

	"This," Hayden says lifting Mascot's limp shaft slightly with his
crop, "is a cock.  Say it."

	"Cock taskmaster,"

	"What did it call these?"  Hayden asks flicking the kneeling
slave's sac.

	"Eggs taskmaster."

	"They are balls, slave.  Say it."

	"Balls taskmaster."  This calms Mascot a little.  This is learning,
and he always did well at learning.

	"What does it call that?"  Hayden points at the pile of shit.

	"Dung taskmaster."

	"Dung, huh?  Actually I like that, keep calling it dung."  Then
thinking: I don't know why I didn't think of that.  Since slaves are just
pack animals anyway, might as well call their shit dung.  This will further
separate them from men.

	"I'm about to choke to death because of that pile of dung.  Scoop
it up with its hands and take it where I say."

	Mascot moves to the large pile of green-brown shit and scoops what
he can: "I can't get it all taskmaster."

	"I know that turd.  It'll just have to make as many trips as it
takes."

	Mascot scoops up about half of the pile-he continued to shit
periodically through the night, so there was a lot of it.  He has to crawl
slowly out of the cage so he doesn't drop any.

This is a peculiar aspect of the difference between slaves like Mascot and
Rex.  Mascot considers the possible repercussions of dropping some of his
shit as he does his ordered task; his mind is always on how the task is to
be done precisely, and the ideas of logic or rationale never enter the
picture.  This is what masters refer to when they say that a slave is
broken-they no longer question the commands; no longer parse them for
sense.  Rex would not consider dropping any of the shit a mistake.  For
him, he'd already shit on the floor because they made it impossible to do
otherwise, so if more shit dropped on the floor, what difference would it
make?  The punishment for both would be similar if not the same.  Mascot
would take his licks understanding they were because of an error, it makes
no difference what the error was or its relative severity-another hallmark
of being broken.  Rex would puzzle over the reasoning behind the punishment
and its severity; it would make as little sense to him as why it is an
error to drop shit on an already soiled floor.

Mascot takes his dung for a long walk.  Hayden stands off about a crop
length from Mascot's ass-standard taskmaster distance for obvious reasons.
He pops Mascot's ass a couple of times on the trek.

The swats have specific, but multiple reasons-Hayden can explain none of
the reasons, but his subconscious understands them.  Hayden wants the slave
to keep at a decent pace, a cliché of the master/slave relationship of
course.  But he also wants to see if the slave reacts in a punishable way,
or if the slave's concentration breaks, which would have the same general
consequences.  Neither Hayden nor Mascot have any idea why, for them the
mechanism works the way it's supposed to on its own.  It works because it
functions on the most basic psychological level.  It is the controlled and
the controller.  The controller never feels he has enough control, that
what he is supposed to command will in some way raise up and stop following
orders-this works for slaves, kids, even cars and the like if you get right
down to it.  But especially when it comes to trying to control another
human, the controller will never feel totally in command.  So they often
invent silly things to torment the controlled with in order to continually
assert their command.

Take the shit rituals for instance; why is it so important for Hayden to do
what he does with it?  It is one thing for a man to be raped.  If a cock is
forced up a slave's ass, it isn't his choice.  When it comes to contact
with shit, it is a bit different.  Yes, the slave can still say he had no
choice, but it is far more humiliating because carrying, wearing, or eating
shit are all active tasks, being raped is passive.  Hayden knows it is
humiliating, and it makes his cock super hard and his orgasms that much
stronger, but he has no idea how effective that activity is for truly
breaking a slave.

They walk through a couple of copses of trees before Hayden decides they've
gone far enough.  He orders Mascot to drop his load at the base of a tree
and they head back.  He whips Mascot to a light jog.  When they get near
the building site, Noah sees them and calls Hayden aside.

"Go pick up another load and wait for me by the door."  He says to Mascot.

"What are you doing?"  Noah asks.  "Just want to know what your plan is."

"It took a massive dump in there last night and it stinks like nothing
Crete could do.  So I'm having it clean it up."

"Ok, that's cool."  Noah says and turns his attentions back to the other
slaves and Scott, who is showing them the way they need to put the frame
together.

Noah is one who understands on a conscious level how and why the
relationship works the way it does.  He knows that for Hayden, it keeps him
hard and squirting, and that is all that is important.  Noah knows that
this is what fuels his natural abilities-Noah believes that Hayden would
have been a mild sadist normally, that the Costa Rican experience just
enhanced and enlarged what was nascent anyway.  Noah also knows that the
source of the natural talent is also the source of the greatest risk.  Left
unchecked, his sadism and desire for control would probably end in serious
injury and death; this is the reasoning behind his tasking Hayden with
Mascot's training.  Noah was training the trainer by keeping an eye on him,
but also by trying to force Hayden to think about his actions in the only
that Hayden would consent to: under the radar.

On the way to the dumpsite the second time, Mascot has to piss.  So he just
pisses as he walks, as he would back home-if the low slaves were outside,
they behaved much like the livestock; this was only slightly less true with
shit (that was a bit more location specific).

"What the fuck?  What is it doing?"  Hayden says, he also stops and Mascot
continues a few steps before noticing that his taskmaster stopped.

"Yes taskmaster?"  "The fuck?  It's just pissing without asking me if it
can?"

"Pissing taskmaster?"

"Motherfucker.  That stuff running out of its cock, what does it call
that?"

"Water taskmaster."

"It's piss, say it."

"Piss taskmaster."

"If it has to make piss or dung, it asks for permission, understood turd?"

"Yes taskmaster."

They continue to the dumpsite.  It takes three trips to get the shit
transferred.  Hayden grabbed a garden spade from the site on the last trip
out.  Mascot dumps the last of the dung onto the pile.

"Wipe its hands on its chest."  Hayden commands, the slave complies.  "Now
take this and dig a hole to put its dung in.  I'll tell it when it has dug
enough."

"Yes taskmaster."

Hayden leans against a nearby tree and plans out how he's going to have
Mascot clean as much of the remaining stink as possible, and on how he is
going to begin Rex's training.  After a couple of minutes, the hole is
acceptable and Hayden orders Mascot to move the pile and bury it.

"Don't want its fucking slavedung stinking up the property now do we?"

"No taskmaster."

"Now it needs to pay for the piss incident.  Wrap its arms around this tree
and hold its hands together.  If it slips at all, I start the count over."

"Yes taskmaster."

Hayden always carries three implements with him: a crop he keeps in his
boot, a flogger and a strop he keeps in his belt.  He thinks a strop will
be a good introduction for this slave to Hayden's style.  He positions
himself and takes a wide swing at Mascot's ass.  The strike makes Mascot
grab the tree harder and whimper lightly.

"Can it count?"  Then after Mascot says he can: "I want it to count the
lashes."

Hayden swings again; Mascot says, "Two taskmaster," through clinched teeth.

"No.  Since it didn't count the first one, it has to start over again at
one."  Then he swings again.  Mascot starts counting at one.  At swipe 6,
Mascot's hands, which still had some slick dung on them, slipped.

"Well now I have to start again."

Mascot takes his place and starts to cry.  "Please taskmaster, please no
more taskmaster."  It isn't just that the pain is more than he is used
to-the switch they used on him stung, but not at all like what he is
getting now-but there is no spirit in the beating.  Mascot is used to an
audience of his fellow slaves.  Their public punishments were intended to
make all slaves suffer at least a little when one of them erred-those not
directly involved still had to watch.  What the punishers couldn't
understand is that the punished got a sense of support from their fellows
who watched.  Now, Mascot was being punished where no one could see, no one
could offer their silent support.

Hayden's cock goes diamond hard.  He has to take a breath.  He wants to lie
into the slave far harder now than he was-he was doing all he could to
swing at three-quarters as Noah wanted.

"Can't do that, hug the tree and start counting at one."  He says this
calmly, but inside he is sneering with prurient force.

Mascot hugs the tree and tries to stifle his tears.  He has to pause for a
couple of beats to count the lash.  Hayden shows another bit of control
where he wouldn't have without Noah's proscription; he doesn't start again
telling the slave that it was taking too long between lashes, to try to
lessen the effect.  Instead, he lets the slave pause as much as it takes,
but Hayden also knows that the slave is trying, in a way that at least Rex
would not, to be quick about it.  For the last 10 lashes, about a minute
and a half passes.  Mascot stumbles a bit on wobbly legs as they head back
to the house.

Rather than go back to the dungeon directly, Hayden takes Mascot to Noah.

Turning Mascot so Noah could see the slave's ass, Hayden asks, "Is this
ok?"

"Sure is red, but doesn't look like it will blister that bad.  What did you
do to deserve this?"  Noah asks.  He is ready to make a couple of quick
changes if he hears the slave say 'nothing' or 'I don't know.'

"Made piss without asking first sir."  Mascot says meekly.

"Wherever you got it from, they just piss like horses or some shit."
Hayden says, laughing.  "So I'm having to potty train it too."

"Whatever it takes to get him on the same level as these two."  Noah
chuckles a little too.  He knew when he saw the portion of the village that
he was allowed to see, that Mascot would present a few challenges, but it
is almost impossible to imagine what life is like without the rules and
objects that have always been in your life.

Hayden and Mascot head into the dungeon to finish the cleaning.

The dungeon is basically an unfinished basement attached to the house
rather than underneath it.  It is concrete and cinder block.  Besides the
three cages, there are various hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling
and a couple of chains hanging at different heights along one wall.  There
is a rack, and two crosses: standard and St. Andrews.  One wall has some
restraints and punishment implements hanging from a pegboard.  On the
common wall with the house's mudroom is an industrial sink and a toilet-the
toilet specifically, but both fixtures actually, are a form of
psychological torture for slaves not allowed to use them (the toilet is one
that would be familiar to any live-in slave, the seat is removed, so that
there is only a rim to sit on-but this toilet is even more of a joke if you
get right down to it, it isn't hooked to anything).

Hayden orders Mascot to fill a bucket with hot water; he has to show Mascot
how to do it.  Then he goes into the house to get bleach.  Mascot keeps his
ears covered until he has to turn the water off.  Hayden comes back with
bleach and a scrub brush.  He adds the bleach and orders Mascot to start
scrubbing from his dung spot.

"May I make dung taskmaster?"  He says before beginning.

"Denied."

"Yes taskmaster."  And he starts scrubbing the floor.

Hayden sits on the tank of the toilet, keeping his feet on the rim.  He
knows from experience that Mascot couldn't help shitting the night before,
but he has a plan.  If the slave can't hold it, he beats this slave; if he
can, then he has what he sees as the best way to start Rex on his new
training.  Either way, Hayden wins.

Mascot is actually quick about it, and it doesn't take long for him to
finish the task.  Hayden has the slave fill the bucket several times and
throwing it around the floor to rinse it.  Hayden then opens the two
blacked out windows and the door to let the room air out.  They finish that
portion just as lunch is ready.  Mascot eats hurriedly along with his
brethren.

Now it is time for Hayden to see how good Mascot's stamina is and how the
slave reacts to make-work.  Noah bought many things in bulk beyond what
would be needed for Scott's house because he planned to have more than just
his and Scott's house as part of the compound, so there are dozens of bags
of sand and concrete.

"Slave, grab a bag."

Mascot lifts a 50-pound bag of sand and puts it on one shoulder.  He stands
waiting for instructions.  Hayden leans against a nearby tree and watches;
a couple of minutes pass and the slave wobbles only slightly.  Mascot's
muscles show themselves, they're not huge, but they enhance his look
greatly when exposed.

"Come this way."  Hayden leads the slave about a hundred yards from the
site.  "Place the bag here, then run back and get another."

Mascot jogs off to get another bag of sand.  Hayden walks about half way
back and follows the laden slave to the placement site.  He instructs
Mascot on how to place the sack and sends him back.  Hayden watches to see
how the slave handles the situation.  Will he run back fast and walk as
quickly as possible to get to the new site, if so he will probably not last
long; will he anticipate what is happening and adjust his gate accordingly
to accommodate the task?

Oddly enough the first option would be the least slave-like.  The first
option would leave the slave spent long before the task is completed.  It
is true that the behavior might impress a master, but not for long.  The
second option shows that the 'person' is thinking like a slave.  It shows
that they are going to try to move at the pace that will not get them
beaten, beaten either during the task or later when they didn't have enough
energy to finish.  A real slave will know that if the master has it in mind
to punish the slave, there isn't anything they can do about it, but the
slave will go about the task in the best way possible to avoid, or
mitigate, a beating.

Mascot's pace to get the sand is consistent, his pace back is consistent.
It is obvious that the slave understands at least part of the situation.
Hayden whacks the slave's ass a few times on different treks, mainly just
to do it, but also to gauge his reaction-his reaction is a temporary
increase in speed, as it should be for a well-trained slave.

Once about 30 bags are stacked, Mascot asks for permission to piss.

"I'll let it piss when it finishes stacking these sacks.  They're not
stacked right."  He follows this revelation with several whacks across
Mascot's shoulders with a crop.

"Sorry taskmaster."

Hayden explains how he wants the pile shifted.  Mascot goes about his task
as blandly as he had from the beginning.  He makes no comment, no sigh, no
facial or body expression that would indicate he was in any way upset.  He
finishes and stands waiting for his next instruction.  Mascot expects
nothing.  If ordered to restack, he would restack; if ordered to move it
back, he would move it back.  His only concern is that he has to piss.  He
waits for a little while and finally has to ask again.

"May I make piss taskmaster?"

"Come here and kneel."  Mascot complies quickly.  "Anybody back where it
comes from ever make it drink piss?"

"No taskmaster."  He shows no affect.  Low slaves are not taught the
standard fear of waste that goes along with potty training and general
cleanliness.  It isn't something he would have tasted on his own, but there
is no fear associated with the question and what it means.

"K.  Well here, slaves drink piss.  So open up and swallow all you can.
Don't worry yet about spilling any, but don't choke-if it chokes, it gets
10 more lashes, got it slave?"

"Yes taskmaster."  Mascot opens his mouth.

Hayden lifts the leg of his shorts and pulls the cock from the jock pouch.
Mascot catches a full mouthful and swallows, closing his mouth to do it.
His face is then splattered with very yellow and strong smelling piss.  He
makes a face as he swallows the bitter and salty liquid, but opens again
and takes another mouthful.  He repeats this twice more.  Hayden shakes the
piss dribble from his cock onto Mascot's face.

"Thank you taskmaster."  Mascot says.

"It can piss now."

Without moving, Mascot pisses.  His bladder is roughly the same size as
Hayden's so his strong piss stream lasts for almost a full minute.

"Thank you taskmaster."

"A'ite turd, time to carry these sacks back, I don't like them here.

"Yes taskmaster."

Mascot finishes moving the sacks back a few minutes before work is ended
for the day.  Hayden makes Mascot pick up two decent sized rocks and stand
with his arms parallel to the ground for the fifteen or so minutes left in
the workday.  He stands in front of the slave and pops the slave's large
cock when the arms begin to sag.

Noah calls a stop and orders the two into the dungeon, Hayden follows with
Mascot.  Hayden locks all three into the cages as before and disappears.

So far, this is normal.  On a typical day, the slaves are caged and Hayden
brings their food.  From there, after the masters finish dinner, there
might be slave play.

"What's taking so long, I'm starving?"  Rex says.  After the six weeks of
slavery, Rex has about five percent body fat and is healthier than ever
before.  He would likely have very mixed feelings if he were able to see
himself in a mirror-fantastic body, but created in a way repugnant to him.
"Not much to taste, but at least it fills the stomach."  He's happy today
because he and Crete were given work gloves (he was as shocked as if the
school bully had given him a parka when it was cold).

A good half hour or so after their normal feeding time, a smell precedes
Hayden into the dungeon that makes both Rex's and Crete's mouths water and
stomachs jump.  Scott comes in with two plates each with a steak on them;
Hayden follows with a bowl of slavechow and an empty bowl.  Even if Rex
could puzzle through the clues, his eyes and total mind are on the slab of
meat on the plate (the evening meal always has ground chicken in, so there
is always animal protein each day, but it is mixed with the rest of the
stuff, so the taste of meat is only a memory for these slaves . . . until
now).

Hayden opens Rex's cage but only allows Mascot out.  He puts the chow under
in front of the slave and he eats quickly and finishes in time.

"May I make dung taskmaster, I really have to bad."  Mascot struggles with
the last comment since he knows it could increase the chances of being
denied, but decides it is necessary to explain the urgency.

"Ok slave.  Make into this bowl, but don't empty its ass, just make a
little."  Hayden says, shoving the empty bowl towards the kneeling slave.
Mascot spreads his knees, positions the bowl under his hole and shits.  The
dung is a stiffer consistency than the night before, but the smell is still
overpowering.  While this happens, Rex understands this is all for him.
His head hangs in what appears to be resignation.

Scott moves to Rex's cage and says, "This is how this is going to work.
You don't have to eat it yet, but you do have to taste it.  We're going to
leave you here.  We will come back in 10 minutes, if you are ready, taste
it while we watch and you and Crete eat steak.  If after ten minutes, you
don't, Master Noah and me will eat these steaks and repeat the process.  We
have no end of steaks and no doubt Mascot has no end of dung."

Then they all leave.  Crete is in his cage; Mascot sits Indian style not
too far from the bowl containing his dung.

"I can't do this man."  Rex is near tears.

"I can't make you.  Don't worry about me.  I've gone hungry before, it
sucks, but it isn't the end of the world."  Crete says.  It sounds sincere
but Rex is having trouble believing it is.  "So make this only about you.
If that helps you deal."

"Nothing's going to help me deal, this is shit man.  This is not something
we were intended to eat."

"We?  They hold the whips, they hand out the food.  Seems like they
determine the course of things now."

"Damn, stop thinking like a fucking slave for a second and pretend you have
a pair of balls!"

"Whoa a second sport.  I know you're pissed and scared, but you are right
next to me, it doesn't matter a cold fuck what way you think.  Now do it,
or don't do it but leave me out of it."  Crete moves so his back is to Rex
and the bowl.

"Have you ever eaten shit?"  Rex says to Mascot.

"No.  I had to drink um . . . piss for the first time today though."
Mascot isn't exactly proud of the information, but he is trying to be
helpful.  He has seen this training tactic before and his goal is to keep
peace; discord does not sit well in his stomach.

The three men return; except for Crete's position, all is as they left it.

"Are these steaks for us or are you and Crete going to eat like real men?"
Scott asks.

"Sir I can't do it Sir."

"That's fine, just watch us eat then."

Scott and Noah eat the steaks quickly.  There is lots of slurping and
mmming.  As they finish, Hayden brings in another pair of plates with
steaks.  He orders Mascot to dump out his dung and to make a bit more.

"We'll be back in ten."  Scott says and they depart.

"You realize that they are going to do this all night?  Once a master
starts something, especially masters like these, they have to finish it by
winning or they lose control.  If you still don't do it, then they are
going to starve all three of us until you do."  Crete says, turning just a
bit to face him then turning back.

"This fucking sucks."

"I thought by now you would be past that.  I can make it a couple of days
without eating-I've done it before.  It is possible that Mascot can do it.
But you've never been without that long.  I know you are about to break now
just smelling the meat."

"Fuck.  What does it taste like, does it taste like it smells?"  There is
an attempt to calm his desperation.

"No it doesn't usually taste like it smells.  They feed you anything but
slavechow?"  Crete says to Mascot.

"I don't know what that is."

"Did you eat anything other than what was in the bowl?"

"No."

"Then it will be sour and bitter, mostly bitter.  If they really wanted you
to suffer they'd make you eat from taskmaster's ass.  He must drink lots of
coffee and god only knows what else; his is VERY bitter."  Then a short
pause.  "Besides, don't be a pussy, it's just a taste."

The masters and Hayden return.

"Well?"  Scott says.

Rex puts his hands on either side of the bowl.  He takes a breath and holds
it, then he sticks his tongue on the firm turd and licks.  Then he raises
up with tongue still out-he figured that if he pulled his tongue in, they'd
make him do it again because they would want proof-then pulls his tongue
in.  He makes a face but tries not to show just how hard it is for him to
swallow.  The dung was sour enough that it made him produce more spit than
he figured it would and most of what he licked ran down his throat on the
first swallow.

"Well done slave.  Taskmaster, let Crete out of his cage and let these two
slaves enjoy their meat."

Crete looks at Rex the way someone with more experience does when a tyro
begins to make the right moves, quiet respect.  Rex's eyes water, but
totally from the taste, not from tears.

"Sir What about Mascot sir?"  Crete asks as they get to the plates.

"We found out last night that his stomach can't handle meat yet.  Your
night chow has some ground chicken or turkey in it and it obviously didn't
work well in our new slave."  Noah explains

"Sir can't he still have something sir?"

"I don't see why not.  Boy, is there anything you would like?"

He thinks for a second.  "Sir do you have apples sir?"

"Go get the boy an apple."  Noah says to Hayden.  Then to the slaves: "Have
at it, I doubt there is any reason for you two to bother with utensils."

The two slaves pick up the pound of meat before them and look like dogs
would if they had thumbs.  It took only a matter of moments for the two rib
eyes to be devoured to the point that only the bone fragment remained.

Mascot watches the two slaves tear into their meat while he slowly eats his
treat.  Apples were plentiful where he grew up but slaves were not allowed
to eat them except as rewards-in fact to be caught eating one without leave
would result in a minimum of 40 whacks with a cane.  So he eats it slowly
to enjoy it as long as he can.  He is still chewing when taskmaster wipes
the two slaves' faces and puts them in the cage.  The three men wait while
he finishes, then he is caged with Rex as the night before.

"I'll get another cage set up here in a couple of days."  Noah says as they
begin to walk out.

"Sir thank you sir," they all say.

Crete lets out a loud fart, then Rex follows.  They are both very potent.

"Whew," Crete says, then to Mascot, "looks like we're going to pay you back
for last night."


Labia

	The second pony races occur the week after the first.  Ka is surly
the whole time and Eddie, the hand who took over as the driver of Ka's team
has to use the whip often to keep him in line.  It is obvious to all that
the organizer of the races is a very poor loser.

	The crowd for the second race is about the same size as for the
first.  They see Eddie's team move into an early lead, then a commanding
lead.  After all teams make the turn and are heading back to the barn, they
see Eddie's team slow down.  There is no obvious explanation for this and
Eddie uses his whip liberally, mostly on Ka's ass.  As they get closer the
crowd sees that Ka's yokemate is trying his best to run, but that Ka isn't.
When the race finishes, Eddie's team comes in second to last.  Who wins and
who loses at this point means very little to those assembled.  Buck watches
Eddie and Ka and knows exactly what is coming next.

	"What the fuck were you doing you piece of shit?!"  Eddie screams
as he takes the bit out of Ka's mouth.

	"LABIA!"  Ka screams.

	Total silence.  No one here has heard this word since they were
made to repeat it before entering the honeyroom.  Buck, who watched from
the perimeter, as he does all things, runs toward the two men.  But before
he can get there, Ka shakes off the reins and punches Eddie in the jaw.
Eddie collapses because he wasn't expecting it.  Ka takes a posture that
says "who's next?"  Buck gets to him.

	"Ok Micah, ok.  Take a breath."

	Ka looks at Buck and glares.  He keeps his fists balled but takes a
deep breath.  Buck knows that Ka is a spring coiled again and Buck is ready
for what might come his way.  Nothing happens though.  Ka calms and his
head drops.

	"Come on bud, you've proved your point.  I need to get you
situated."  Buck puts a hand on Ka's shoulder and guides him through the
gap in the crowd.  "Chet, take Eddie back to the barracks, there'll be a
doctor there in an hour or so."

	The two men walk slowly towards Buck's place in silence, but Buck
can hear Ka's panted breathing.  When they get to his office, Buck orders
Seth out.

	"Take a seat."

	"I'd rather stand."

	"Whatever.  This is how it goes," Buck says sitting in the chair
Seth vacated.  "You get your id back and some clothes and you will be given
the account number and card to an account with your name on it."

	"Account?"

	"Yes, the taxes are paid, so it is essentially free money.  Sam
decided when he set this place up that it would be unrealistic to just turn
slaves out with a huge hole in their lives that would be impossible to
explain during an interview."  He checks a couple of things with the pc and
says: "Looks like you have just over twenty thousand."

	Ka stumbles.  "Dollars?"

	"Yep.  The money is yours to do with as you please.  The way he
figures it, it is more than the money you would have saved if you had been
doing standard work over the time you've been here.  For application
purposes, call this whatever you like, a ranch a construction job
. . . anything manual anyway and list me as the contact and you will get a
glowing recommendation."

	He thinks for a minute.  Then: "Buck I don't really want to go.  I
always thought I'd get your job when you left."

	"That was basically true, but there is no going back.  It might
have been possible if you only said the word to me, but since ninety
percent of the ranch heard you scream it, there is no going back.  I need
to go see Sam and get you some clothes.  So you stay put and I'll get you
all set."

	Ka thinks: this is how it feels to get laid off.  I thought I'd be
here for a very long time.  I knew when I was tapped to be a hand that I
would run this place in a short time and not have to fuck with the outside
again.

	If he believed in conspiracy theories, he might think that someone
seeded this event by giving him the story that led eventually to his poor
temper.  Whatever events conspired or transpired, he stands now on the edge
of freedom that he does not want and is certain he is not ready for.  The
world he left behind has, if not forgotten him, written him off.  He cannot
return to the area he called home without having to lie, and he was never
good at lying.  So the anxiety of a wide-open world full of possibilities,
all of them threatening it seems, sets in and he starts to cry.

	Buck returns with clothes and his necessary documents.

	"Buck man, isn't there an auction coming up?"

	"I know where you're going and it can't happen, Micah dude.  Think
of the chaos if I let you get away with that.  We'd have every slave in
this place screaming labia anytime they didn't get their way and then say,
'I was just joshing' when things calm down.  Sorry guy, but this is how it
has to be."

	Now Micah turns angry.  "I could go to the cops and blow this wide
open."

	"You ain't the first to say that or hear this.  You think Sam would
be doing this if he didn't have the cops here taken care of.  And anyway,
there isn't anything illegal about what's happening here-least not what you
think.  Everybody here is here because they want to be.  It would be
difficult if the authorities started poking around, but it could continue
shortly after.  Don't be stupid.  The cops here would make it harder for
you if you ran to them and you don't want to have to waste any of your
money getting out of jail or town.  I mean, you don't really think this
place could run as long as it has if Sam hadn't taken all of that into
account."  Then calmer: "I know this sucks, but this is the way it works.
The ranch is more important than any of its pieces."

	Buck then has Micah dress.  The young man is obviously
uncomfortable wearing underwear and jeans and a shirt again for the first
time in years.  He stands dejected.  Only the mind of a real slave would be
dejected at the thought of freedom and free money.

	"Be careful with the cash.  You know how to contact me via instant
message; I will help as much as I'm able.  In the envelope you will find
the account information I told you about and a list of addresses for
resumes and applications.  You aren't to use the phone number listed; it is
for company personnel offices only.  Now, I'm going to take you back to the
bus station and see that you get on a bus going somewhere.  You've got the
hour there to decide, if you don't, then I will automatically put you on
the next bus to leave.  Understood?"

	Micah only nods.  Then he raises his head and stares forward with
conviction.  He entered the ranch with his head high; he leaves it the same
way.