Date: Mon, 20 Dec 2004 23:34:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 6

PLEASURE SLAVE, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories


Part 6

As  I continued to sit there, bent over with my head
in his lap, another smell started to come through,
above the whiff of dried piss - something different,
half sweaty, half something else.  I began to
recognise it as that peculiarly "male" smell that you
get when you rub your fingers over your balls and in
that area at there your legs join.  It's the special
male pheromones that the body excretes from all the
sweat glands there, I suppose.  I read somewhere once
that there are more sweat glands per square inch
around the genitals than anywhere else

At the same time as my nose was assailed by this, I
could continue to feel his hard dick through the
fabric, and he began to move my head backwards and
forwards over the big bulge in his trousers, so that I
became aware that there was "something" there,
"something" that I could feel was responding to my
presence as my face was pressed into it.

This went on for what seemed like ages, but was
probably only for a couple of minutes, and my own
dick, poking though the fly of my shorts, got almost
painful as it was erecting so hard.

He relaxed the pressure on my head, and after a
further short time, I cautiously sat up, to see him
smiling at me.  "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I shook my head, and he went on "Sit there...", then
"Gary - my coat and trousers...."

He stood up and Gary rushed over to take his jacket
off him, which he placed almost reverently on the back
of a chair, then bent down to undo Master Brett's
belt, then undid his zip and, helped him slide his
brightly-polished brown leather shoes off, and to ease
him out of his trousers.  All this seemed so
effortless and normal, that I knew that Master Brett
must be used to having another guy help his dress and
undress - the only time that had ever happened to me
was when I was trying on a fancy tux for a wedding,
and the sales assistant had tried to help me: because
I was so unused to it, I almost stumbled!  Master
Brett then undid his silk tie for himself and tossed
it to Gary, who carefully put it with the rest of the
clothes, Master Brett opened the top button of his
shirt, and came and sat down beside me again.

"Now, Steve, we can get down to business without all
that heavy suit on.  Come on, boy...."

His hand was on top of my head again, pulling me down
towards his crotch.  I didn't want to do it, but the
pressure was so firm, so insistent, and I was so
concerned about the prospect of another visit to the
horse, that ultimately I just did as his hands were
directing me to.

The tails of his shirt were half open, and as my head
lowered I could see his plain cotton undershorts
looming, with a faint yellow stain on them.  As my
nose was pushed down into the thinner fabric, I now
got the full strength of Master Brett's male scent -
there was no way of avoiding it, and Master Brett held
my head down so that my lungs filled with it.

"Good boy, Steve", he crooned, "Take it in.  Get to
know the scent of a man, get to enjoy that special
smell that us guys have.  And can you feel my dick,
Steve.... It wants to play...."

Indeed I could feel his dick - it was rock hard, under
the thin sea-island cotton, tenting the front of his
undershorts out towards me.  The pressure on my head
was now making me move my face right over it -
sometimes one cheek, sometimes the other, and
sometimes my nose and lips.  With my hands cuffed
behind my neck, what little hope I might have
entertained at resisting, or even doing anything at
all, had vanished.

He let me sit up again, and I saw him still smiling.
Somehow, as it hadn't been as bad as I thought it
would be, my worry abated slightly and I even managed
a weak grin in return.  I mean, when someone's smiling
at you, its difficult not to smile back, isn't it?

"I think my dick needs to come out to play, Steve,
like yours is, and Gary's has.... Look at Gary, Steve
- he's a lot more excited by all of this than you
are..."

I looked at the young slave's dick that was jutting
out from his shorts, and it had now climbed to an
almost impossible angle, way above horizontal.  In the
soft lights of the room I could see a bead of pre-cum,
glistening like a jewel, in his piss slit.

"What will it take to turn you on like that, Steve?
To produce a special token like that to show how much
you're enjoying the scene?

It was a rhetorical question, of course, so I just sat
there, mute, watching as he reached into his shorts
and freed his dick. It wasn't as long as mine, but,
possibly, a little thicker.  It sat there, poking out
from the snowy white cotton, its head a darker shade
of pink than the pale shaft.  I stared at in
fascination - I mean, although you see other guys'
dicks in the showers and stuff at the gym,  you don't
ever see them erect, do you?  Most guys, like me, go
to huge lengths to stop themselves having an erection
when other guys can see, and so other than in
pictures, and in shots on porno movies  when the actor
is getting ready to fuck the woman, I'd never seen an
erect dick other than my own.

"Right, Steve.   Are you ready for your first taste of
dick?  It is the first taste, isn't it - you weren't
joking, with all that stuff about never having been
with another guy?"

"Yes, sir, but..."

"Steve, I've warned you!  No 'buts'!  Now, just take
it nice and easy.  I want you to take it nice and
slowly... Just put your face down, and put out your
tongue, and lick my dick, ever so gently.  No need to
put it in your mouth - yet!  Just a nice long, slow
lick of the head and the shaft, and get  right down to
the base, so your nose is pushing into my balls.  I
want to feel that tongue of yours all over my dick,
and that nice warm nose nestling in my soft ball
sac.... OK?"

"Please, sir, don't..."

"Come on, Steve, you'll enjoy it once you've lost
those silly inhibitions...."

His hand was on top of my head again, and I knew I
couldn't resist.  Ever so slowly my head went down,
and his dick loomed larger and larger in front of me.
My head stopped, but the pressure of his hand remained
there, calm and steadying.

"Come on, Steve... Tongue out...", he whispered.

There is something very different about the dick
compared to other parts of the body, isn't there?  The
way it's warm, like other parts of your skin, but it's
also hard in a way that muscles just aren't.  I now
find it fascinating the way a guy's dick can be so
ramrod solid one minute, and yet all soft and floppy
the next.  It also smells differently, I always think,
and tastes a bit different, too - it doesn't matter
how much the guy has washed, a few minutes of having
his dick lying there against his balls, surrounded
with the sweat and scent glands, and it takes on that
very special taste, that essence of manhood that's
really not quite like anything else.  I mean, ordinary
skin is just salty and an asshole, well....  But I'm
getting ahead of myself, as I didn't really get to the
point of being able to make these comparisons until
much later.

Hesitantly and tentatively, I put out my tongue and
let it play on Master Brett's dick head - as I
realised that it was somehow exciting and different, I
got bolder, and ran it down his shaft.  I'd thought
that I'd find the whole thing utterly revolting, but I
didn't - to my surprise, it actually felt good.  I
liked the sleek hardness of the shaft, the way that
the thick flange of the head made for a different
texture.... And as I did as he'd instructed and buried
my nose in his ball sac, I got a different feeling
altogether as his pubic hairs pressed into my cheeks.

I heard myself making mild noises of enjoyment  - a
kind of low moaning that somehow complemented the
slurping my tongue was now making on his shaft, which
had become sticky and slimy with my saliva.

I went on and on, until I heard him say, gently, "Good
boy, Steve!  Get up now."

I raised my head and saw him smiling still.  "Very
good, so far.  But it gets a bit more difficult from
here on in, as you've got to take the whole shaft into
your mouth.  I want those lips closed around the
shaft, riding up and down it, with your tongue teasing
the piss slit.... But I'm not sure I can trust you
yet.  Normally, we'd have had a little jerking off and
so on by now, but we've skipped ahead, as you know,
until those scars have gone away.  I think I can trust
you, but better safe than sorry - slaves have been
known to bite their masters' dicks, you know:  and
when your dick is right in the slave's mouth, there's
not much you can do to stop him - even if you prod
him, it's too late."

"So I think I'll forgo the pleasure of  feeling that
nice mouth of yours starting to really please me, ands
let you suck at the young Gary here instead - slaves
are more reluctant to bite their fellows, after all.
And, even if you  did bit his dick right off, I could
always buy another slave after all, whereas I couldn't
 buy myself a new dick.  But it seems a waste just to
watch, and not have any of the fun....  Gary, come and
sit here...."

Master Brett pushed himself right back into the huge
couch, and Gary slipped his tiny slave shorts off,
then went and sat between  Master Brett's legs,.  I
wondered how it felt for both Master Brett and Gary to
have Master Brett's thick, hard dick pressing up into
the slave's young, slender ass as he sat there, and to
my amazement  I felt my own dick jerk, as if it was
really excited and about to cum.

"Right, Steve.  On your knees, in front of Gary...."

I knelt there, looking at the young guy's huge prick
jutting out so proudly in front of my face.  The tiny
pearl of pre-cum that I'd seen before had now become a
large slick, running across the dark pink of his dick
head, and disappearing down underneath.

"Right, Steve - why don't you start by reaching out
with the tip of your tongue and licking up that
delicious nectar that's already leaking out of Gary?"

I bent forward, and a new smell now assailed me - as
well as Gary's man scent, I got that whiff of cum,
that unmistakable ammoniacal smell .  Look, don't get
me wrong - I don't go around smelling my own cum or
stuff like that!  But when you're young, and you have
your first ejaculations, you always experiment, don't
you?  I hadn't been able to resist smelling my cum
when I first shot a load, and ever after you do get a
faint whiff of it, don't you, when you're putting a T
or shorts into the washer that you've used as a cum
rag, or when you go to toss the toiled tissue away, if
you use that.

I reached out with my tongue, and was really surprised
when all I got was a kind of salty taste - not at all
like the smell.  It's funny how cum is like that,
isn't it?  You expect it to have a really distinctive
flavour, given its smell, but it's really just faintly
salt, faintly sweet, verging on the bland.  I started
to lick his shaft, slowly, as I'd done to Master
Brett, and was making good progress - Gary was
evidently enjoying it, too, as his dick just wouldn't
keep still - it was jerking around, as if in response
to real excitement, and I had to really try to keep it
near my mouth, as it danced around, sometimes brushing
my lips, and sometimes stroking my cheeks:  funny,
that - a dick against your cheeks feels quite
different to anything else, doesn't it?

But then I heard Master Brett say "We're going to have
to cut this short, Steve, as I've just noticed the
time.  And I don't have a lot of time tomorrow,
either, and we need to get you on stream quickly, so
we're going to have to speed up.  So get your mouth
around it, and start to take it down."

I put the head of his dick between my lips, and
tentatively ran them up and down his shaft a little -
not much, as having Gary's big dick in my mouth felt
so strange, and if I tried to get too much in, it
started to make me want to gag.

"No, Steve, I want to see all of Gary buried in you,
with your nose right up against him."

I tried to splutter "I can't - I'll choke", but Gary's
dick was an effective bar to intelligible words, and
nothing came out.

"So, Steve, I'm going to use the handles to pull you
right down on to him."

Reaching around Gary's young slim body, Master Brett
took hold of the leather handles that had been
attached to my collar, and started to gently tug on
them to move my head ever closer to Gary, forcing his
dick deeper and deeper into my mouth.  I stated to
panic - the tip of Gary's big thick dick touched the
back of my throat, and that triggered the choking and
vomiting reflex.  I tried to shout, tried to make them
stop, but there was absolutely nothing I could do.  I
thrashed my arms from side to side as best I could,
but they just banged uselessly into Gary's thighs.  I
couldn't get away, I wanted to vomit, I needed air, as
his dick was blocking my throat....

And then Master Brett let go, and I pulled my head
back.  I knelt there, choking, gagging and with the
tears that had broken out during that dreadful
experience streaming down my face.  There in front of
me was Gary's dick, covered in my spit and mucus, and
then I heard the dreadful words from Master Brett "Go
down on it again, boy.  I want you to take that dick
all the way down again...."

"Please, sir, no..."

"Yes, Steve.  You've got to learn how to really take a
dick all the way down.  Most of our clients are not as
heroically hung as young Gary here, but every man
always wants his dick swallowed completely.  It's only
a matter of technique - you can learn to control all
that gagging and choking, if you try.  Now, as I said,
I haven't much time..... Open your mouth, boy!"

He was tugging at the handles as he said this, and my
collar was forcing me forwards towards Gary's dick.
It touched my lips, and I refused to open them.  I
felt something underneath me, and the next moment my
mouth flew open as I screamed - Master Brett had
brought one of his socked feet up and kicked my balls,
as they hung there unprotected. With my mouth open
like that there was nothing to stop Gary's dick going
in, and I heard Master Brett say "You fucking slaves
- just don't try it on, boy!  I've got more tricks
like that to help train slaves who think they can
disobey.  Now, just do as you're told."

He was pulling on the handles again now, and Gary's
dick was again causing me to choke and gag.  I'd have
done anything to make it stop, to get it out. Master
Brett was obviously right not to risk his dick at this
stage - if it had been him doing this to me, I'd have
bitten down on it, done anything to make it go away.
I'd probably have bitten straight through it. But I
couldn't do that to young Gary, could I?  It wasn't
his fault, after all, that he was doing this - he was
just being used as a tool, by Master Brett.

I knew I was going to die.  My air was cut off.  My
whole body was racked with huge heaves in my stomach,
as I tried to vomit.  The thrashing of my arms became
more and more intense. My body stopped kneeling and
went out from under me, and I realised I was thrashing
around, like a fish on the end of a line, held on the
"hook" of Gary's dick and the handles attached to my
collar.  And then he let me go again, and I half
sprawled there, wheezing, choking, gagging, with tears
and snot pouring down my face.  My chest was heaving,
as I sucked in air.

"I think that's enough for one day, don't you,
Steve?", Master Brett said softly.  "Gary - up off my
dick:  it likes your warm ass, but I've got work to do
and haven't got time for a proper fuck.  And Steve -
kneel in front of me again, slave!"

I did as I was told, still breathing heavily.  But at
least the tears and snot had mostly dried up. I looked
up, and Master Brett was smiling down at me.  "Just
rest there easily, Steve.... Now....."

He started to jerk himself off, and I watched,
fascinated, as his hand slid up and down his dick.
This was another first for me, too - I mean, who jerks
off in front of another guy?  It must be different if
you do it in front of slaves, I suppose.  His hands
got faster, and I could tell from the way his body
arched slightly and his eyes screwed up that he was
about to cum.  "Shut your eyes, Steve", he shouted.

I wondered what he was on about, but did as I was
told, and felt something warm splatter all over my
face.  I heard that unmistakable gasp of pure joy as a
guy cums, and Master Brett said, above his heavy
breathing, "OK, Steve, open up now.... I'm not ashamed
of jerking off in front of you, as you're only a
slave; I don't mind you looking at it, but it's not a
good idea to get cum into your eyes...."

The warmth I'd felt was Master Brett's cum - I
realised it was all over my face, and was trickling
slowly down my cheeks.  I could smell it in my
nostrils, as it was everywhere.  Master Brett leaned
forward, and now ran his hands over my face and head,
smearing and spreading his cum all over me.  "There,
Steve", he said. "I've marked you properly as my
property now.  Breathe it in, boy.  Take in the smell
of your owner's cum. Now...."

He leaned forward again, and pushed his cum-covered
index finger towards my lips.  Here, boy... Good boy,
take my finger, and clean it... Suck your owner's cum
off it, boy...."

I don't know what it is, but somehow sucking a man's
finger, a strong man's finger, the finger of a man who
has you in his power, is somehow very demeaning and,
at the same time, very satisfying.  As his finger
probed my mouth, I was almost greedy in the way that I
licked at it with my tongue, caressed it with my lips,
and moved my head backwards and forwards, suckling it
as if it was coated in the most delicious food ever.
Master Brett put his other hand onto my head, and I
could feel him cleaning the cum off, in my hair.
"Good boy, Steve.... Good boy... That's the way to
show proper respect for your owner...."

This sublime event only went on for a minute or so,
though, as Master Brett abruptly withdrew his finger
and got to his feet.  I carried on kneeling there, my
arms still cuffed to my collar, as Gary fussed around
helping him dress - easing Master Brett's dick back
into his undershorts, holding his trousers so they
could be "stepped into", and even tying his necktie.
When he was back to being smooth and immaculate, as he
had been wen I had first seen him, Master Brett said
"OK, Gary - release Steve, get dressed, then take him
off - I won't need you for the rest of the day.  Show
him around the place, and introduce him to the other
guys.  Make sure you're both well fed - you can have
an extra ration, as you did well today - but I want
you both to sleep in a close confinement cage
tonight."

"Steve", he went on, "Listen to what Gary says - we'll
carry on your training tomorrow, and perhaps he'll be
able to give you a few tips.  Now you heard me tell
Gary you're to sleep in a close confinement cage
tonight, and I want no argument or dispute about it
when the time comes!  I think your biggest hang-up is
that basically you're body shy - although you've got a
beautiful, toned body that most men would die for,
you're almost ashamed of it.  The quicker you get used
to the idea that a man's body is a joyful thing, the
better... And the easier the rest of your training
will be.  So tonight, instead of sleeping in a bed,
I'm putting you in a cage, with Gary.  You won't be
able to avoid being in close - no, intimate - contact
with him all night long.  I want you to get used to
the feel of another man's skin against you, to have to
press close to another guy all night long so you feel
his breath, smell his little farts, know the touch of
his dick against you as it goes through its nightly
cycle of erections, understand how another guy can
move around constantly in bed.... In short, start to
experience all the things that you'll have to be used
to if you're going to spend all night with clients.
The only difference is that Gary is young,
enthusiastic, and has a really nice body:  most of
your clients will be old, and in poor shape generally!
 Still, it's the principle that counts, isn't it?"

As I knelt there, Gary fiddled with my collar and
cuffs, and the next moment my hands were free.  "Get
up, Steve", Master Brett said, and I climbed to my
feet.  I just couldn't help running my hands over my
face and my hair - it was still all sticky from Master
Brett's cum, and my hands got a thin coating of it, as
well.  I felt myself starting to blush, at the thought
of being in that state.

"I've got work to do - scoot off, you two", Master
Brett said airily, as if what has just happened had
been the most normal thing in the world. I wanted to
say so much to him, to complain, protest, question....
But this wasn't the time, as he'd made a dismissive
gesture and was turning to the screen on my desk.  I
was going over to interrupt him, but sensing my
movement, Gary took me by the arm and led me towards
the door.

"Gary, let go...", I hissed.

"No, Steve.  You heard Master Brett.  I've got to show
you around...  Please come along, else he'll punish
me, as well as you."  From the way he said this, I
could tell that he was scared of the prospect of being
punished, and I began to wonder how bad it could be:
the four cane marks on my butt were still causing me a
lot of grief, and I wondered how bad the punishments
could be, if the threat of them had this effect on
Gary, who seemed to be very well behaved, almost
docile.

Master Brett had already picked up the phone and was
speaking on it as we went out of the door into the
corridor, and Gary closed it behind us, very carefully
and gently so that there was no sound.  He seemed
relieved to be out of Master Brett's presence, and
almost visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about that, Steve", he began. "But Master Brett
ordered my dick into your mouth.... You know that,
don't you?"

"Sure, Gary, it wasn't your fault..."

"Not that I wouldn't like my dick in your mouth,
Steve.... Hey, I really like you, you know?  You're
just my type - a few years older, strong, hairy, kind
of 'hard' looking....  You really turn me on. I'm
really looking forward to getting to know you better,
tonight...."

"Hey, forget it!  I like guys as buddies, but
definitely not for sex..."

"Steve, you've got a real problem, if you don't mind
me saying so!  How on earth can you like a guy as a
buddy, and not want to have sex with him?  That's the
only way you really get to know another guy - when
you're lying next to him in bed, after you've both
fucked."

"No... You go out to bars, to parties, on fishing
trips... Whatever."

"Steve, you get closer to another guy when you're in
bed together, feeling each others bodies, than you
ever do in a year of fishing trips.  But don't take my
word for it - you'll find out, soon enough.  You don't
have nay choice, after all, as Master Brett has
ordered us to spend the night in the same close
confinement cage..."

"What the fuck's that?"

"You'll soon find out.... Now....."

We had come up to another of the big wooden doors, but
this one had a discrete sign on it,  the words picked
out in a modern script on an elegant piece of polished
brass, "Associates only beyond this point, please.  If
our clients would like to watch associates at work,
please return to reception, who will direct you to the
viewing gallery."

Gary grinned, as he saw me reading it.  "Just like a
big store, or something, isn't it, calling us
'associates' - always call a spade a spade, as the old
saying goes,  or perhaps I should say, always call an
indentured servant a slave!"  He grinned at me as he
said this, and I couldn't help but like him - after
all, it wasn't his fault that he'd had to treat me
like that.

We went through the door and the whole ambience
changed.  The thick, rich carpets disappeared in
favour of thermoplastic tiles that now felt hard
against my trainers after the carpet; the subdued
lighting was replaced by the utilitarian strip
lighting common to all modern office buildings, and
the walls were now just plain plaster, painted a dull
cream.

Gary opened another door, and we could almost have
been in my gym back home - the same rows of exercise
machines and big mirrors on the walls, and that same
smell of stale sweat.  The only differences were that
all the guys in there working out were really working
out hard - you could see the seat on all of them; that
all the men were in fantastic shape, and handsome,
unlike most of the guys at my gym, who really needed
to be there;  and that instead of the range of
designer tops, workout shorts, track suits, and the
like, all these guys were, like me and Gary, just
wearing the tiny shorts.  I could thus clearly see
their bodies as they worked away, and, of course,
their tattoos supplied me with their names.

As we had entered, and we became noticed, the workouts
stopped.  "Hey, guys", Gary called out, "This is Steve
- a new guy, who's just starting ten years...."

There was a chorus of "Hi, Steve", a couple of the
nearest guys reached out off their machines to shake
my hand, but everyone soon resumed working.

"Your use of the exercise machines is monitored", Gary
explained, "You have to put in so many hours, or
else..."

"...you're punished".  I completed the sentence for
him.

"Right, Steve - how did you know that?"

"Oh, just extrapolating from the way that other things
around here seem to work.  Tell me, though, why are
all the slaves called short names, like Ted, Brad,
Dave, Joe, Bill, Tom, Paul, Rod....  Me and Frank over
there... We seem to have the longest names..."

"Oh, that's easy, Steve.  If you were usually known as
Steven, they'd shorten it to Steve anyway.  If you
were called something like Humphrey, they'd simply
give you a shorter name. They don't want more than
five characters, or else the tattoos don't look as
good:  five nice big letters is better than a lot more
smaller ones, for really emphasising your front and
back."

"You can't be serious..."

"Sure, Steve, why not?"

Well, there was no answer to that, was there?  I mean,
fancy renaming a guy, just so that his name would fit
across his back!

We left the gym through a plain door, and were in a
big shower area.  Eight shower heads along one wall,
tiles all over the place so that there was so defined
"showers" area in particular, and, to my shock, four
lavatory bowls on the opposite wall with absolutely no
cubicles or any thing around them.  The third wall had
a row of eight was basins, and there was a small set
of razors and toothbrushes at the end of it.

"Clean-up space", Gary said, rather unnecessarily.
Guys going out on assignments get priority to use the
showers, if there's a rush. Those hoses hanging down
are the enema hoses, as you must go out clean inside.
And you must shave before an assignment, even if you
shaved earlier in the day - especially a guy like you,
with  a wiry, tough beard:  I can see the shadow
forming even now."

"So the clients don't like a swarthy guy, then?"

"No, stupid!  A lot of men are turned on by hairy
bodies, and I guess that's one of the reasons by
Master Brett and Master Jed bought you.  I like a body
like yours, actually", he went on, grinning slightly
at me, as if this piece of information would in some
way flatter me. "But unless you're really cleanly
shaven, then when you come to suck a guy's dick, or if
he likes to play, by slapping his dick around our
face, or even just rubbing it up and down your cheeks,
it can get painful for him if you've got stubble.  And
if he doesn't enjoy it, that might make him
complain... And, believe me, you don't want that.
Master Brett is fanatical about winning the
President's award for good service again., as he told
you."

"Oh, stop bullshitting - I just don't believe our
President is interested in guys having sex properly!"

"Why not, Steve?  After all, our Constitution is all
about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness...
If your dick's sore because you've been scraping it on
the stubble of some hunk, then you're certainly not
happy...  I think the President is doing a good job at
trying to enforce the Constitution!"

"Oh yes?  What about the 'liberty' bit?"

"Well, would you rather be an indentured servant for
ten years, living a healthy, active life, or locked up
in a tiny jail cell for the rest of your life?  They
used to do that to criminals in the old days, you
know... I think I've got a lot more liberty as a
slave, than I would have as a prisoner n some sort of
penitentiary."

"Oh, come on...."

"Well, you believe what you want, Steve, but I'll
believe what I want."

"One last question, Gary - where do I get my towel and
razor and toothbrush and stuff from?"

"Well, they're there, on all the basins - look."

"But which one belongs to who?"
"Oh, you just use which ever one's lying around.  We
don't get our own stuff - we are supposed to be
slaves, remember?  It's like the shorts - you get a
fresh pair every morning from the common supply."
"You mean I have to share toothbrushes and razors and
clothes and towels with the other guys?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Well... It's not.... Well, 'nice' to share those
things with other people."

"Oh come on, Steve... Don't be so stupid!  You're
going to enjoy most of those guys' bodies and have
their dicks up your as, and yours up theirs, as you
get trained - so what's the problem in treating them
like real buddies, and just sharing everything?"

"Look, Gary, it's not right..."

"Hey, Steve, this is the working day, OK?  And slaves
are supposed to keep social chit-chat to a minimum
when they're working.  You can talk as much as you
like in bed, if you're not on duty, but keep it to a
minimum now, OK?  And Master Brett and Master Jed
treat us pretty well, ad they don't like to hear
criticism of the system..."

He looked around almost as if he was fearful, and then
I saw the TV cameras and microphones in every corner
of the room.

"Are they watching?"

"Of course, Steve.  Clients waiting can flip through
the channels and watch us working out, or getting
ready for them"

"But the lavatories..."

"So?  I think you've forgotten that you're a slave,
and that a slave has no need of privacy.  I mean, you
wouldn't want to watch a man crapping, would you?  But
a slave, well, it's.... Different.  Anyway, never mind
the cameras - up there, look, is the viewing gallery.
The clients can walk along up there and look down at
the gym, showers and our sleeping area, which is next
door..."

He led the way through into the next room, and it was
a bit like a barracks room that you see in the movies
about soldiers and guys like that - rows of single
beds, quite close together, lined each side of the
room.  The only difference was that there were no
lockers or anything- just the beds.  Then I realised
why:  a slave has no possessions, after all, so has no
need of private storage space.  I glanced up and saw
that the viewing gallery extended here, too, as Gary
had said - was there to be no privacy, nowhere I could
be alone?  I just couldn't imagine living my life
totally exposed to others like this.  I mean, a guy
needs some private time to himself, doesn't he?  Even
if it's only to take  a crap by himself, or lie in bed
and jerk himself off.  How was I going to cope with
this total lack of any form of private "space" for
myself?

"Well, that's it, for our living space", Gary said as
if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Just
the gym, showers and sleeping quarters. It's quite
compact for twenty five of us, but some guys are
always out on assignments so it's not too bad most of
the time.  There are other rooms, of course, but those
are on the 'client' side -  specialised viewing rooms,
so a new client can inspect slaves he's picked out
from the on-line catalogue, and the pleasure rooms,
for when the client wants to use the slave here,
rather than have him do an out call to the hotel.
You'll see all those in due course, but that's all
there is for routine day-to-day living.  So, after all
that, we ought to go and work out - with all these
special duties, I'm falling behind a bit in the hours
I have to do.

End Of Part 6