Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2012 05:10:09 -0700
From: Randall Austin <randallaustin2011@hotmail.com>
Subject: One Step Behind You - Part 9

One Step Behind You

Part Nine

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be
read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my
stories without my permission and please forward all comments to
randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin's Archive Group:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories


Lang and his best friend Weston, who was also now one of my best friends,
were having a beer in the living room when the doorbell rang. I was unable
to answer the door, so Lang got up and answered the door. At the house to
visit me, home on vacation on the Friday after Thanksgiving of their junior
year in college were my best friends Tony, Perry, and Eric. They all had
met Lang and Weston before so friendly greetings and introductions soon
gave way to animated questioning on how everyone was and the latest on
their current status.

It was only after a couple minutes of friendly chatter had passed that Eric
spotted me in another corner of the living room, padlocked by a ring
through my nose to a bolt in the wall. Eric asked, of no one specifically,
"What's going on here?"

Lang, seeing Eric about to get upset, reassured, "Oh, it's nothing really!
Billy was getting self-important. I had to take him down a peg."

Eric, indignant, just shook his head with a sneer at Lang. Addressing his
friends Eric said, "Let's get out of here!  I'm not going to sit around
watching my friend be humiliated!"

Lang, uneasy, shifted in his chair, so Weston spoke up, "Hold on Eric. I
don't like this anymore than you do.  But Billy got into trouble again so
Lang locked him to the wall for a two-hour punishment session.  He's going
to be set free in just 10 minutes.  Please, don't rush out and deprive your
friend of your company."

Weston's genuine concern won Eric over, so Eric motioned to his friends to
relax and stay. Lang, used to being eyed as a bully by my friends curled
his lips and ran his beer glass across them.  It was inevitable that
someone would soon ask, and Tony did, "So what did Billy do?"

Lang answered, "It's more an attitude thing than any one thing that he did
wrong. Weston, Billy, and I are all good friends.  And I mean that. Billy
is more than a friend to me, I see him as my kid brother.  But that doesn't
change the fact that he's a slave and slaves have a certain status. No
different than you boys and your parents.  You may not like some order your
parent's give you, but it is simply out of bounds to swear at your
parents."

"Did Billy swear at you?" asked Perry.

"Not literally. Swearing was an analogy. We were playing a game of cards
and I asked Billy to make some sandwiches for the three of us.  He left the
table in kind of a huff and came back with chips, crackers, cheese and
dips.  When I told him those things didn't look like sandwiches to me,
rather than apologize and say something like, "Oops, I took your request to
mean you just wanted some kind of snack", he was exasperated and said,
"What in the hell difference does it make?"  So I had to show him what in
the hell kind of difference it made by dragging him over to the nearest
slave bolt in the wall and locking him to it by his nose ring."

Eric was mad, "So for that you made him stand in a hunched over position
with his face against the wall for two hours?  That is fucking torture!"

Lang remained calm, certain, as ever, of his rightness, "No, it's not
torture Eric.  Hear me out.  In fact what I did was a kindness.  The very
reason Weston suggested that I get Billy nose ringed."

Eric interrupted, "Yeah, and that fucking nose ring!  Guys like you think
it's perfectly okay to force any kind of body modification on slaves to
suit whatever your whim happens to be! You slavers are all alike. Just
selfish abusers of humanity."

Lang, standing up, looked at Weston and smiled, "This young man just called
us "abusers of humanity." Lang walked over to me and unlocked me from the
wall bolt.  He guided me back to where everyone was sitting with his hand
on my shoulder.  He set the small padlock that had secured me to the bolt
in the wall on the coffee table in front of everyone. It was a little
suitcase type padlock.  Everyone looked at it. My friends rose to greet me
with hugs and quiet how-are-you's?

Lang told me to go get drinks for my friends. All of my friends said they
didn't want anything, doubtless to avoid embarrassing me any further. Lang
shook his head, bewildered. I hadn't seen my friends in almost a year. I
had no idea if they had changed in any way.  The somewhat awkward silence
was broken by Perry, who asked the very question that was on my mind,
"Weston, Lang just said you were a slaver too. I had no idea. Is that
something new, or have you been hiding that from us?"

Weston answered, "Oh no, not at all, because I have never really "owned"
slaves, as such, for my own service.  What I have always done, as a hobby,
is invest in a single freshly enslaved product, find a client who has some
unique requirement in a slave, and then I hand train the slave to the
buyer's specifications. It's just something I have always enjoyed doing."

I was shocked, "Weston, I can't believe this. You have always been so nice
to me."

"Why would you be surprised, Billy? You think slave owners and trainers
aren't nice to slaves. I think of you as Lang's brother and my friend. No
kidding. The fact that you're a slave means your role is slightly different
in society, but it doesn't mean I don't like you and respect you for your
sharp mind, your past academic accomplishments, the great work you do for
the Falkenberg's, and the good slave that you are.  Cops arrest criminals,
doctors treat the ill, construction workers build houses, and slaves do
what their masters tell them to do.  We've all have a job to do.  That's
the way I see it."

"But...", I was speechless.

Weston continued, "Man, it's no big deal that slavers have to call the
shots in the lives of their slaves. Cops have to recite the Miranda ruling
to murderers, doctor's have to follow AMA guidelines, house builders have
to follow building codes, construction workers have to be at the job site
at a time their bosses tell them, slavers are duty bound to keep slaves in
line, and slaves have to do what their masters tell them. We all have our
roles to play.  What's the big deal, or even the issue?"

"But construction workers and cops have a say in their own lives."

"Billy, I can't believe you are so naïve. Do the Chinese have a choice that
they are Chinese?  Do those born with brown hair have a say in their
condition?  Wake up Billy, it's no big deal that your friends are juniors
in college, that I'm a hobbyist slave trainer, and that you're a slave!
It's all in the big picture!"

The awkward moment was quickly blotted out by Perry's surprising interest
in Weston's endeavors. "So do you have a slave in training right now?"

"Actually, right now I have three.  A young, distraught, women came to
me. Her husband had left her and her three boys.  She was penniless.  When
she applied to have her three sons, aged 12, 14, and 17, enslaved the judge
refused her request.  So she came to me for advice.  I told her I could
help her get her boys enslaved if she would sell them to me. We agreed upon
terms, so I advised her of what course of action to take. I told her that
she had to indicate to the judge that without her husband providing for
her, she was under extreme duress not being able to continue leading the
lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. I was right, of course, and
with that approach the judge summarily granted her request to have her sons
enslaved.  Thus I could afford to pick up all three of them at the price we
had set.  I basically got me three primo top-notch slaves at almost half
the normal price.  Even then I had to go to my dad for a loan, but he
thought that it was a such a good investment opportunity that he was happy
to help me out."

"How long have you had them?" asked Eric.

"About one month now."  Just as Weston was about to field another question
from Eric the doorbell rang again.  Lang snapped his finger at me and I
went to answer the door.

At the door was the Falkenberg's pastor, Reverend Brodde Abjornson, and a
short-haired man about 30, still pleasant looking despite a youthful
bulkiness that in a few years time would turn to middle-age flab. He
carried with him a very large suitcase.  And along side of them was a
young, slender, and attractive, female. The man, seeing my collar and slave
shorts and tunic, said, "Pastor Abjornson, Pamela Croft, and Gideon Boss,
here to see Lang Falkenberg."  From the background Lang sang out, "Reverend
Abjornson and guests! Come in, come in, come in!" as he rose and rushed to
greet them.

Introductions were all around fast and warm, and even my friends were
caught up in the conviviality of the greetings.  Gideon Boss, here on
Weston's urging, was introduced as the owner of Boss's Slave Clamping and
Hobbling Services. Pamela Croft was his assistant, and Reverend Abjornson,
it turns out, was a friend of Gideon's. So it was, then, when Gideon asked
his pastor if he knew of the Falkenberg's, he was delighted to hear that
not only did the pastor know the Falkenberg's, but he was friends with
them. So Gideon insisted that the pastor join them on his business trip to
the Falkenberg's; Weston wanted Gideon to evaluate the Falkenberg's slave
as a possible candidate for hobbling and clamping.

The warmth of the greetings wore off slightly when the nature of Gideon's
business was revealed. Surprisingly, it was Reverend Abjornson who
expressed alarm even before my friends did, "Gideon, your business card has
always said "Boss's Clamping and Hobbling". So I just assumed that meant
you worked on horses. I had no idea you did those things to slaves. I'm
just a bit old fashioned, so I don't know what all your newfangled terms
mean? I know what hobbling is, and, my god, I hope you're not planning on
doing that to Billy. But what on earth is 'clamping'?"

Gideon laughed, "Relax Reverend Abjornson.  This is the 21st Century.  We
no longer break slave's bones to slow their gait. We use a state of the art
corset system to limit slaves' movements.  And `clamping' refers to what
used to be called `penis clamping', where a slave's penis head was
literally `clamped' or locked up. But today it simply refers to the modern
method of preventing a slave from being able to self-pleasure
himself. Clamping is a euphemism for emplacing any sort of chastity control
device about a slave's genitals."

Reverend let out a sigh of relief, "Oh well then! I have no problem
whatsoever with that.  That can only be a good thing. In fact, I have
always felt that was exactly what Billy needed. And I have felt that for
quite awhile.  But I didn't want to interfere in the Falkenberg's personal
affairs."  Lang shook his head, "Oh Reverend, in no way would dad or I have
considered your opinion on anything to be intrusive. In fact, do you have
any other recommendations for Billy?"

"Well, Lang, since you asked, I don't think it would harm Billy to attend
my Bible class for slaves. It's traditional Bible study encouraged along
with plenty of whippings if the boys don't learn their bible
studies. Slaves, even more than free men, need what the bible has to
offer."

"Why do you feel that way, Reverend?" asked Gideon.

"Because free men are beholden to god alone.  But slaves are beholden to
both god and men."

"I see, Reverend. That makes very good sense to me."

Lang agreed, "I think I will enroll Billy in your bible class, for
starters.  My friend Weston here has been nagging me for a year to get
Billy clamped, but I wasn't convinced, probably because I don't know too
much about it. So he invited his friend here, Gideon, to assess Billy and
see if he feels Billy could benefit from either a clamping or hobbling
procedure."

Gideon smiled, "It's important to know that not only do slave's benefit
from these procedures, but most of all owners benefit.  Let me tell you the
facts!"  Everyone was interested, including my friends.  "All of you; just
think about this!  Studies have shown that males from the age of 12 on and
up have sex thoughts for 14 seconds of every minute. That's almost 15
minutes out of every hour spent in some way pondering or pursuing sex,
either passively or actively, and 15 minutes is the low end of the
percentile. In other words, an awful lot of male energy is spent towards
trying to achieve sexual release.  It is simply economic foolishness to
invest in a slave and let him basically waste over 25% of his energy
towards selfish endeavors, when that same energy, if channeled effectively,
would mean getting that much more productivity out of the slave."

The entire room, including my friends, was caught up in Gideon's logic.

"Chastity control devices are the safe, sane, economical, and proven
effective, solution to this problem.  And state of the art devices, such as
the models I offer, are easy for an owner to both remove and emplace. They
are lightweight, strong, hygienic, not noticeable underneath clothing, and
guaranteed to prevent any sort of self-pleasuring whatsoever. Just ask
anyone who has a clamped slave, and he'll tell you the benefits are major,
positive, and life affirming.  It not only makes slaves much more
productive, they simply have to work off and release all that pent up
energy, and what better way than through tasks which you assign, but the
psychological profile of the slave improves as well. They care more about
serving."

"And, it can be used as part of a rewards system, as well. If a slave is a
`behaver', then it makes very good sense to reward that slave, say once
every 3 or 4 months, by removing the chastity device for a few minutes."

Weston jumped in, "I can attest to that. I always have my slaves in
training clamped, and you should see them hopping around trying to please
me, thinking that just maybe I'll unlock their clamps for a bit."

Gideon was curious; "You must have your hands full with those three young
boys. How are they doing since I clamped them up for you?"

"Just beautifully!"  Weston was smiling and eager to share his pleasure in
his three young slaves' progress. "You should see them.  They're so
focused. So constantly aiming to please, as if they're thinking that if
they behave and give great service I somehow am going to release them from
the clamps. I just love this stage of a new slave's training.  Molding them
for their new life. Just think about it!  Having all that male sexual
energy channeled towards productive ends of your own choosing. Some guys
like cars, some like the gaming tables. But I like knowing I have the power
to control a man's sexual energy, of channeling it towards whatever sort of
labor I chose. It's an awesome feeling of power controlling another man's
ability to pleasure himself, and help mold him into becoming a prime cut
slave.  It's just something I have always enjoyed doing."

"And it has other benefits too. And Lang, you should know this, since you
sometimes use Billy for your personal `care'.  Well, no need to be delicate
here. After all, we're all men here. But the sucking action that a penis
clamped slave gives is awesome. It's like they're trying to feel what
you're feeling vicariously. A penis clamped slave delivers awesome sucking
power!"

Pastor Abjornson shifted nervously in his chair.

Lang spoke up. "Okay, Okay, you're getting me interested. I suppose we
should let Gideon go ahead with his hobbling and clamping assessment of
Billy. But before we begin, may I ask how much this assessment is going to
cost me?"  Weston smiled at Lang's customary show of appearing to care
about the cost of things.

Gideon calmed him down. "Relax! It's not going to cost you a thing.  As I
always say, "You're under no 'hobbligation'." The entire room, including my
friends, erupted into laughter.

I did not know whether I should be more stunned by finding out that Weston
is an amateur slave trainer, by finding out what Lang was considering
having done to me, or the fact that my three former best friends were
witnessing it all. My friends were doubtless as amazed by it all as much as
I was, as they just sat there listening to the exchanges.

Gideon, seated in an easy chair called me over to stand in front of him. I
stood in front of him, he eyed me up and down, and asked, "Lang, tell me
about Billy.  How is he doing?  Does he behave?"

"Well, yes, for the most part he behaves," answered Lang, "but one thing I
have learned is that there is no such thing as a behaving slave without the
administration of plenty of chastening procedures.  Let me tell you, it
takes work to have a well-behaving slave. And don't let anyone tell you
differently!"

Gideon responded, "Well you're absolutely right about that. And the beauty
of clamping and hobbling procedures is that there are some things that you
can do that will provide you with a real measure of relief in your
discipline regimen. We all hate having to punish our slaves, and, of
course, so do the slaves. But if clamping and hobbling results in better
behavior, that means less punishment you have to dish out and less
punishment your slave has to take. So hobbling and clamping end up being,
in practical terms, two rather humane options."

"If you would, Lang, please give me an idea of how often and what kinds of
punishments you have to give to Billy. It will help me assess the degree of
hobbling and clamping he needs."

"What dad and I have found works best for us is to treat Billy just like
family. So we do. We have no secrets we keep from Billy. Billy is in on our
most intimate discussions; everything from finance to family.  We watch
videos together, recreate together, just as if Billy were my brother and
dad's son. But if Billy does something wrong, is out of line in some way,
he gets an immediate whumping."

Gideon needed more details, "What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, if Billy were to spill his glass of juice right now, he would get
his hands whacked with a ruler, a good 8 swats.  No matter how much fun we
may have just been having together. If Billy were to let out a foul word,
or balk in the least when I asked him to do something now, I would give him
a face slapping or a ball squeezing right now, in front of everyone. If
Billy were to openly complain about some policy in front of you, he would
have to fetch his paddle and take whatever I give him right in front of
you. This way boundaries are clear, and we end up with a slave who has to
take quite a few corrective measures, but once they are applied we have an
obedient, compliant, Billy."

Having to stand up in front of Gideon while everyone else was seated
listening to all of this made me feel quite dismal. And my friends' rapt
attention to the proceedings had me confused. Lang continued, "Just last
week dad, Billy, and I were having a great time watching a comedy on
video. At one point a woman was talking about her marriage problems, and
Billy said the character reminded him of Dad's stepsister. Such a comment
was inappropriate. Dad and I immediately hauled Billy into the bathroom and
took off his clothes. Dad held Billy firm, and I wet a bar of soap, pinched
Billy's nose, and shoved it into his mouth. I then worked the bar of soap
in and out of his mouth for a good five minutes. We gave him a good
old-fashioned mouth washing! Then, afterwards, while Billy was leaning over
the sink gurgling, choking, dribbling, drooling, and heaving, and with dad
still holding him in place, I gave him about a 10 second ball squeezing. We
hated to have to do it, but Billy was chastened and he learned a valuable
lesson!"

Gideon nodded approvingly, "Sounds good! So how often does he have to
receive such corrective measures?"

Lang was at a momentary loss for words, "Oh, I don't know?  Billy, what
would you say?"

I, too, was at a loss, and all I could say was, "It varies, sir."

Lang thought a bit, and said, "Billy is right, it does vary. But I would
say short measures such as a face slappings, hand whackings, ball
squeezings, or a couple of swats with the tawse across the back occur about
three times a week. But broader chastening procedures, such as bare-ass
paddlings, naked spankings, or leg beltings occur about once every two or
three weeks. But there have been times when such punishments occurred
several times a week. So that was the reason Weston suggested that I get
Billy nose-ringed; to serve as another punishment option in order to
relieve Billy's fanny if it was in danger of getting more spankings than it
could handle in a single week."

Gideon shook his head thoughtfully, "Yes, nose ringing a slave is a humane
modification." Complimenting Weston, he added, "That was a good suggestion,
Weston."

Weston smiled, "Thanks Gideon. I really love Billy and just want to see him
kitted out in a way that helps insure he becomes a smooth operator. It
hurts me every time I see him getting it!"

Gideon continued, "Weston told me you had to send him to the county
Punishment House once. There must have been some serious offense committed
for you to send him there."

"There was. Billy was just getting on my nerves constantly over a period of
a couple of days, and I simply couldn't take any more of his whining. I
knew that I was simply too fed up to deal soberly with Billy, so I had the
county folks take care of him for me. They did a good job!"

"Those county boys always do," added Gideon.

Tony asked rather shyly, "What goes on in Punishment House?  What is it
like?" And Perry asked too, "What did they do to you, Billy?"

I was speechless and Lang told me to answer Tony's question.

I made no eye contact with anyone in the room, but just stared at the wall
above where Gideon was seated in front of me. "They made sure I had a very
uncomfortable day."

There was silence, and Gideon interrupted, "I think Billy is having a hard
time talking about it because slaves are put through some rather demeaning
procedures down at the county Punishment House. And rightly so! That's the
purpose of Punishment House; to help make sure that in the future a slave
will do everything his master asks him to do in order to avoid being sent
back there."

I was red with shame as Eric, Perry, and Tony, took in the details of my
humiliating existence. Gideon rubbed his chin nonchalantly, "Okay Billy,
let's take off all of your clothes."

In the past I probably would have balked and held out a bit before
following such a command in the presence of my old friends. But realizing
finally now where Weston was coming from, and realizing that Lang, Weston,
and Gideon were all in their fired-up, righteous, slaver modes, I didn't
want to give them any excuses to show each other how best to keep me in
line.

When I was naked I stood with my hands at my side. Gideon, and everyone
else, silently looked me over. I glanced at Weston, and he looked as
peaceful and friendly as he always had. But now I was beginning to
understand him and his calm demeanor; the way he would hurry a sentence
here, slow his pace and relish a phrase's impact there. He led a rubato
life in both speech and style. He was a master of leisure in all things,
and he seemed to be so especially when he interacted with me.  Now I could
finally see that Weston, like Gideon, relished such interaction with slaves
above all other things, as if he drew life-sustaining nourishment from
knowing slaves were about and subject to his command.

Pamela spoke professionally, "Billy shows signs of being a compensatory
narcissistic, a classic slave disorder that a chastity belt is just the
cure for."

Tony and Perry looked at each other, and Tony enthused, "Wow, Perry and I
just had a course in slave psychology last semester at college and that
very condition was talked about. On the way over here Perry and I were
saying that we thought Billy fell into that very category!"

Pamela continued, glad to have an eager audience, "In fact, he's a textbook
example. The recommended treatment is a permanent chastity device
emplacement. Lift your balls, Billy."  I did as she asked.  "I'd say the
VG-SX, size 14, would be a good match for Billy.  You need to get Billy
penis clamped as soon as possible!"

Gideon made the final sales pitch; "There you have it, Lang.  What all of
Pamela's fancy psycho talk is saying is that it's time to take that trouble
maker hanging between Billy's legs and lock it up and put it out of
commission. If you lock up his naughty bits you'll also be locking up 75%
of his bad behavior, and thus 75% of his punishments!"  Gideon took out a
calculator. "The Vitaguard model SX, the top of the line, state of the art,
model, is $789, tax is $61, and my first time emplacement and instructions
fee is $160. So for a tidy sum of $1010 you can have Billy clamped and
compliant. I see you already keep Billy clean-shaven. I can have it on him
in 10 minutes."

Lang wondered, "What about shaving. Won't he jerk when I remove it for him
to shave himself?"

Weston had an answer, "Do what I do. I take the clamp off about once every
two weeks and have the slave shower with me. In the shower I make him
shave. If he starts to get too into it and is taking too long I give him a
kiss of the Q-prod."  Weston pulled out of his pocket a small cylinder, not
much larger than a fountain pen, and held it up for all to see. "This is
the safe and sane way to electro-prod slaves. It doesn't deliver pain or
have the ability to stun or immobilize, but what it does offer is low
voltage output with high voltage payback. It delivers an uneasy, queasy,
feeling to the stomach and general nausea, that makes a slave think he's
about to vomit out his insides. One kiss from this baby, especially in the
shower, and your slave will be behaving in a second."

"Then after the slave has shaved his unit, and he's usually hard as hell at
this point, what I like to do is have the slave jack me off.  It nicely
highlights for the slave the difference in our status. Dick pumping is
something he does only for freemen who have the authority to request it. I
love the feeling of having a slave do something to me that he can't do to
himself. Getting into the shower with my slaves during pussy shaving time
is just something I have always enjoyed doing."

"And remember, Lang," continued Weston helpfully, "It's all that built up
testosterone that you want to channel towards productive purposes.  What I
do to my boys in training is after I hose them down and feed them in the
morning, I give each one of them a big glossy porn mag, with nice big close
up shots of girls' pussies. I let them flip through it for about 15
minutes. Then I come and get them for training. You should see it. Three
young boys with nothing but pussy on their brains and nowhere to go with
it. All that testosterone and adrenaline at the ready, just dying to get
out. I assure you, our training sessions under such circumstances are super
productive."

"Sounds beautiful!"  Lang was convinced.

"It is! There are so many benefits to clamping male slaves, and almost no
negatives. Just do it. Look at Billy. He's all big doe-eyed and sniffling
just trying to win your sympathy. Don't fall for it. I love Billy as much
as you do, and you know that Lang. But let's do the right thing for him."

Lang looked at Weston and nodded in agreement with him, and then asked, "So
is that your recommendation, Gideon?"

"Absolutely, get him penis clamped as soon as possible. Billy doesn't need
any hobbling at this stage."

Lang agreed, "Okay! If it only takes 10 minutes, then I say let's do it
now, and then afterwards Billy can serve us all a little lunch."