Date: Wed, 16 Jun 2004 12:13:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: You Can't Be Friends With A Slave, Parts 7-8

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part seven

By Pete Brown  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


FRIENDS ALWAYS THINK OF THEIR BUDDY'S BEST INTERESTS

As I burst through the door I saw Billy-Joe slumped on
a sofa in front of the TV, a beer in his hand.  The
commentary showed that he was watching a soccer game
on pay TV, from somewhere in Europe.  He had a baggy T
shirt and loose boxer shorts on.  He didn't seem to
have shaved that day, and his hair was long and lank.
My second glance took in another guy - obviously a
slave as he was bare from the waist up, and was
collared.  Unlike Billy-Joe who, looked like a slob,
the slave, who can't have been much more than
seventeen, seemed neat and elegant:  his hair was
cropped short like mine and he was cleanly shaven and
perhaps had been lightly oiled as he shone with
health.  All he wore was a small scrap of white cloth
that was suspended from a thin chain around his waist
just to conceal his genitals - well, conceal them
whilst he was standing perfectly still:  I suspected
that the slightest movement would cause them to swing
excitingly in and out of view.

"Hey, Steve!  I wasn't expecting you until later!"

"Billy-Joe, you had them 'prepare' me for you.  I'd
have been standing outside your door for fuck knows
how long if I hadn't come in.  You've ignored me for
weeks.  What the fuck's going on....?"

"Hey, Steve, calm down.  It's not seemly to shout and
swear like that, you know.  If the Colonel or
Straughan heard, you'd be in trouble."  His voice
changed, as he snapped out to Charlie and Coon who
were peering nervously into the room, "And you two,
get in here, and shut that door."  Charlie and Coon
sidled in, and stood against the far wall, in "rest"
mode, as if they were trying to lose themselves and
not raise Billy-Joe's anger any further.

"Now, come and sit down by the side of your old buddy,
and tell me what's the real problem..."  Billy-Joe
chugged at his beer as he said this.  I moved over,
and responded "Aren't you going to even offer me a
beer?"

"It's not good for you, you know, Steve.  Slaves can't
usually take free men's food..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Billy-Joe!  You and I have
drunk more beers together than most people have hot
dinners......"

"Well, don't blame me tomorrow!"  Turning to the young
slave who'd been standing there motionless, he said
"Grunt, get another beer, and bring it in."

The young lad turned and strode out, and I couldn't
help but notice how perfect he was - broad shouldered
tapering to a narrow waist from which a superb
bubble-butt thrust itself onto the world, leading down
to long, well-proportioned and quite muscular legs.
The most astonishing thing about him was the fact that
his skin was pure white - there wasn't a trace of
suntan on him, and the slightly oiled effect gave him
the appearance almost of one of those alabaster
statues.  The big "S" on his butt stood out in
especially stark contrast against the pure white of
his flesh. I hadn't seen him around in the slave
quarters, and so I assumed he must be one of the
indoor slaves.

"Who's that, Billy-Joe?"  In spite of my anger, I
couldn't contain my interest and just had to ask.

"Oh that, it's my valet and general servant.  I had
another one when you were here last - a big black, but
he turned out to be, well.... unsatisfactory.  So I
dispensed with him, and bought this one from a
specialist breeder.  I've had him ever since his
sixteenth birthday when he was first sold, so no other
master has had him, and I've been able to mould him to
my exact requirements.  I'm becoming more and more
convinced, you know, that that's the way to go - they
come complete with the proper attitude, their bodies
are in good shape, and you can have a good pick of
types: this one is a kind of 'general purpose', but
they do tall ones, neat little trim ones, big
bruisers.... Do you like him, incidentally?  He's a
redhead, a bright copper red as you'll see from the
residue  I keep on his head, and the little strip I
allow him above his dick.  But otherwise he's shaved
smooth, and as he isn't allowed out into the sun he
has that fantastic pure white colouring that only
redheads achieve but which you see only rarely:  they
follow the fashion for the outdoor life, and normally
their skin is an angry red, or freckled, of course..."

I didn't need this little homily on the selection and
training of slaves, but at this moment Billy-Joe was
cut short as the slave came back with a beer:  it had
never looked more appealing to me, as I hadn't had
anything like this for so long.  The green bottle was
running with condensation, and I could see that faint
"steam" rising out of the neck. My mouth filled with
saliva.  Billy-Joe gestured towards me, and the slave
boy dropped to his knees in front of me, and held the
bottle up above his head respectfully, waiting for me
to take it.    "See", Billy-Joe said, "perfectly
trained, don't you think?  But, Steve, I'd really
advise against drinking that beer."

Well, what do you say?  I decided not to go down that
route of discussing slave training, and instead said
"Billy-Joe.. Can you at least get me something decent
to wear?  These shorts... They're so small, so tight,
and my dick's about to burst out of the fly...."

"Oh, don't be so silly, Steve.  You're perfectly
decent..."

"No I'm not!  It's disgusting to keep a guy like
this..."

Billy-Joe didn't immediately answer, but looked at
Charlie and Coon and shouted "out of those shorts!",
then, turning slightly, he tugged at the strip of
cloth in front of his valet and pulled it away out of
the chain, so that the lad was totally naked.  I
couldn't help noticing that his dick was
disproportionately large for his still-young body, and
he had big balls as well.

"There, Steve.  Now those three are naked, you look
perfectly respectable in comparison.   So come and sit
down, drink your beer, watch this exciting match, and
tell me all about it."

I sat next to him on the sofa, feeling the soft
leather cool against my naked back and thighs, and
said "Billy-Joe, you told me you'd take care of me...
I was going to live in your apartment..."

"Yes, Steve, but when I thought it through, it didn't
make much sense.  I only have a tiny place, you know,
as I like to be right at the heart of things."

"No smaller than that room we shared at college, I
bet..."

"No, it's a lot bigger.  But then I have different
needs now, friends to entertain.... You know how
awkward it was when you needed our college room to
shag some woman in, and I had to go out... Well, I
could hardly have you waiting in the corridor whilst I
fucked now, could I? And in the city you're not
allowed in the parks without your owner, and you have
to walk in the gutter, and the only place you can
really work out is the special slave training facility
right downtown - vile place:  someone took me to see
it one day... all those naked slaves sweating away in
such close confinement.  No, much better to be here,
on the estate, in the country, in the fresh air..."

"Well, OK, but why am I in the slave quarters, and not
here in the house as your guest?"

"That's down to you, Steve!  I had planned to let you
use this room and dressing room, bedroom and bathroom
when I'm not here - you could bunk down in the
dressing room when I came down for the weekend - but
the Colonel won't have it.  You see Chantelle's
parents are friend s of the Colonel's, and at a tea
party one Sunday the Colonel got to hear about how
some brute of a man had forced his intentions on the
lady.  And when I was telling him about you, he put
two and two together... and said he wasn't going to
have a rapist in his house."

"But surely you told him that Chantelle was lying...?"

"Hey, Steve, you forget you're in the south now!  The
Colonel's a gentlemen, and ladies don't lie to
gentlemen.  And if I had suggested that she had, the
Colonel would not have believed me.  I didn't want to
push it, as it's only due to of his generosity and his
remembering that you had been a gust here and that a
gentlemen still has some obligations to his former
guests, that he relented and let you stay at all.
Think of the alternative... You couldn't stay in my
city apartment, and if you hadn't been allowed to stay
here, there would have been no alternative but to sell
you!  That wouldn't have been very good, would it?"

"But Billy-Joe... The branding,  'skinning me..."

"Hey, Steve, come on, be reasonable, old man!
Straughan was only doing his job, as best he knows
how.  When a slave arrives here, he's always branded
and 'skinned if he's not already been cut.  He was
just following orders.  He does a hard job, you know -
all the Colonel's seventy slaves to control with only
a few guards, the administration of the house and
estate....  Ease up on him, will you?"

"Billy-Joe!  It's easy enough for you to say that.
It's not your body that's been burned, your dick
that's been cut..."

"OK, Steve, I admit we might have done that better,
but he's busy, and I'm busy, and we just failed to
communicate properly.  But there's no real harm done,
is there?  Some guys think branding and tattooing is
really sexy, you know - I bet when you're free again a
lot of people will find you really erotic when you
undress, as it's not very often you get branded and
tattooed guys these days in case they're taken for
slaves.  And as for the 'skinning, well, actually, I
think you look a lot better that way...."

As he said this, Billy-Joe leaned over and reached
into the open fly of my shorts, and started to feel
for my dick.

"Cut that out!"  I snapped, and grasped Billy-Joe's
wrist, hard. Even before I'd done all this hard labour
I'd been pretty strong, but now I could grip really
hard and Billy-Joe almost yelped as I squeezed him.

"Steve, be careful!  I'll make allowances this time,
but if you ever do that to another man, you'll find
yourself in serious trouble... If you lay a finger on
Straughan, for example, he'll have you flayed.  And I
was only going to get your dick out and show you what
a good job the doctor did - how it's now so much more
prominent, there's no scarring or anything:  we pay
top dollar to that doctor to make sure he 'skins
properly..."

"Billy-Joe, shut the fuck up, will you?  I don't care
how 'standard' it is here, and how many slaves, or
free men for that matter, have it done:  I used to
like my 'skin.  Jerking off just isn't the same..."

"Well there's not much we can do about it now anyway,
is there?  So why don't we try to put the past behind
us, and move on?  Let's be positive, let's just forget
what's happened, and...."

"This is madness, Billy-Joe!  You're trying to justify
the unjustifiable.  Look, why don't you just declare
me to be free, let's forget this whole stupid thing,
and I'll make a run across the border to Canada - they
don't send slaves back, I understand, so even if
Chantelle tries to enslave me again, I won't be here.
How about we make it like a short vacation, as you
drive me to the border, then declare me free and I'll
cross...."

Billy-Joe looked shifty and uncomfortable for the
first time in our conversation.  "I'd like to do that,
Steve, but something's come up that makes it
impossible...  Maybe in a year or so."

"What the fuck can have 'come up', Billy-Joe?  It was
only supposed to be until Chantelle got tired of
pursuing me... And now you're taking about 'a year or
so'.... Fuck me, Billy-Joe, it just isn't good enough.
 I want out, and I want it now!"

"Sorry, Steve... But look, let me explain.  The
Colonel's been keeping me pretty short of money
recently, as he wants me to settle down and stop
living a 'dissolute life', as he calls it.  He doesn't
think I'm a proper southern gentleman, and he's trying
to get me to change by making it hard for me to live
the life I want with  my friends by cutting off the
cash.  So when I needed a new car last month, I had to
borrow to pay for it - and without a regular job, it's
hard to get credit.  I've got 'prospects', shall we
say, for when the Colonel dies, but no ready money
now.  So I had to borrow from the bank, and they need
collateral.  And the only real collateral I've got is
my ownership of you - once Straughan had got you made
a permanent slave (another of his over-zealous
activities, by the way, but one that worked out well
for me at least) - you had a very high value.  Think
about it: college-educated, pure-bred white, twenty
four years old, great body - there aren't a lot of
slaves like you around, and the bank was prepared to
lend me all the money I needed for my new Jaguar.  So
until I can pay them off, they've got kind of a
mortgage on you, so I can't let you go free."

I was so astonished I couldn't even be angry.  It
sounded so unreal in one way, but so obvious in the
way that Billy-Joe explained it, in another.  "So
you've raised money on me for a fucking new car....?
Billy-Joe, I thought we were meant to be buddies..."

"We are, Steve, and it didn't seem a problem at the
time.  You know, I thought that you'd settle in as a
slave, and that Chantelle would keep pressing for your
enslavement, so that by the time I needed to pay the
money off the Colonel would have made me his heir, or,
at least, been reconciled to me...  It's just that,
right now, the timing's difficult, shall we say!"

"You can't use a buddy as something to raise money on,
Billy-Joe!  Sell the fucking car...."

"Steve, be reasonable!  If I sell the car I won't get
much for it as it's now 'used'.  And with bank
interest and everything, I still won't be able to pay
of the bank.  The Colonel, if he found out that I was
going behind his back to lead what he thinks of as a
'dissolute life' certainly wouldn't lend me the money.
 And then the bank would come after me, and they can
do dreadful things to debtors now, you know: enslave
them, for example!  So you'll just have to stay a
slave for a bit longer.  So let's not argue about it,
OK?  It's a done deal, and there's no way out."

"Billy-Joe... Please.... I can't stand this..."

"Well, Steve, you don't have much choice, do you?"
Billy-Joe's tone changed now.  He was getting tired of
this conversation, he looked bored, and he seemed more
interested in the soccer match on the TV.  "You're
actually my slave, and until I let you go, that's what
you'll remain.  Now, let's think about making life as
easy as possible for all of us."

I went to turn away in disgust, but it was Billy-Joe
who now gripped my wrist.  "Steve, that's the kind of
thing I mean!  Although you look like a slave, you
don't act properly like a slave.  A slave doesn't turn
away from his owner, you know."

"Fuck you, Billy-Joe...!  What you mean is 'let's try
to make life as easy as possible for me, and fuck poor
Steve'."

"I see what Straughan means now, Steve.  He's always
calling me and complaining that you haven't got the
right attitude, that you're wilful, and disobedient,
and can't do the simplest things like remain silent
until spoken to.  You're making life very difficult
for him, you know, as the other slaves sense that
rebellious streak in you.  They know you're 'something
special', and it makes them all uneasy.  Straughan has
been going on at me to let me have you treated like a
proper slave, so that everyone knows exactly where you
are:  discipline's a big potential problem here, as
the Colonel won't employ more guards, and you don't
make life any easier for him."

"What do you mean, 'treated like a proper slave'?
What the fuck else can yo do to me?  I've been
stripped, collared, branded, mutilated, fed that
disgusting slave chow, and made to work harder than
I've ever worked in my life, 'encouraged' by trustees
and guards with those lashes....  What else can there
possibly be?"

"Well, if you think about it, it's not all bad:
you're looking great, you know.  You always were in
great shape, and now they've got you to put on that
extra muscle... well, it suits you!  Look...."
Billy-Joe reached up and tried to get his finger
between my skin and my collar.  It felt almost
obscenely warm, and I went to pull away from him.
"See - when you were collared, this was all loose, and
now the new muscle.... It looks good on you...."

I jerked away.  "Billy-Joe, if I'd wanted more
muscles, I could have gone to the gym...."

"It's not just that, Steve.  I think you're better all
over:  less stressed.  When we went out drinking
after you came down here, I sometimes wondered if that
desk job wasn't getting on top of you... all the
worry, all the office politics... it isn't good for a
man.  A man needs to use his body, don't you think?"

"Anyway", he continued, "I know Straughan's really
complaining about having to treat you just that bit
differently.  It's more work to have you locked up
separately at night instead of using the slave dorms.
And, as I said, it makes the other slaves unsure of
your status, and that leads to general unease and
discipline problems."

Actually, I had wondered why my fellows in the work
gang didn't really treat me fully as "one of them".
I'd put it down to the fact that they didn't like a
white guy working alongside them, and showing them,
incidentally, that I could out-work them.  I think it
kind of offended their sense of racial pride!  But
perhaps they did resent the special treatment I got,
little though it was.

"Look, Steve, let's think about this logically, shall
we? ", Billy-Joe went on.  "I know you office types
like to think through problems and look at alternate
solutions, if there are any.  Now, you've got to
remain a slave for a bit longer, until I'm reconciled
to the Colonel and I can pay the bank back, right?  If
there's any more trouble and the bank hears about it,
they might foreclose on the loan, and seize you as the
collateral.  Then you'd be up there, naked on the
auction block, and god knows where you'd end up!  What
is certain is that, having paid top dollar for you,
there's no way a new owner would ever free you.
Whereas I will, one day.  Right?"

"I suppose so.  But I don't like it.... If you'd
thought of me, and not bought that fucking car...."

"It's not a question of likes or dislikes, Steve, but
of harsh practical reality. And we can't change the
past, can we?  Now, since I have to keep you as a
slave, and we've agreed that's the best thing for you,
right...?"  I nodded.  "...then we have to think about
where I'm going to keep you."

"As I've explained, you can't live in my city
apartment as it's too small, and, anyway, you wouldn't
like the slave life in the city.  You can't live in
the house here as the Colonel won't allow it, you
being a rapist and everything..."

"I'm not a rapist, Billy-Joe..."

"Yes, you know that, and I accept your explanation.
But the Colonel doesn't, so you can't live in the
house.  So that just leaves the slave quarters."

"I could live there, Billy-Joe, I suppose - give me a
few things for that 'room' - a cage, actually - that I
have:  blankets, TV... that sort of stuff.  And let me
eat proper food..."

"No, Steve.  That wouldn't work.  As I've explained,
Straughan is already complaining about your current
treatment causing unrest.  If I did that, he'd
certainly go to the Colonel, who'd then tell me to
take you away totally.  And then I'd have no choice
but to sell you... with the consequences I've already
explained.  So I think the only real solution is for
you to be treated fully as a slave... To have the
other slaves accept that you're a slave, just like
them.  Do you agree?"

I thought and thought.  When Billy-Joe explained it
like this, there really didn't seem to be any other
way out, did there?  Well, at least I couldn't think
of any.  Billy-Joe had a way of making things seem
"obvious" - he'd done law at college, and had that
lawyer's way about him that made any other course of
action seem impossible.  So, very reluctantly, I said
"I suppose you're right... But it's only until you can
free me, right?  And what's involved?  Just sleeping
in the slave dorms - I already work alongside the
others."

"Good, Steve.  I knew you'd see sense!  Yes, you'll be
treated just like all the others, including sleeping
in the slave dorms.  You already do most of the
physical stuff - and the work's OK, isn't it?"

"Well, I suppose so. And, as you say, it probably is
doing me good... You're right, I do feel good in
myself.... I sleep at night now, and never lie awake
worrying... I'm too fucking tired!  And  I really like
some of the other guys, and it will be good to have
them accept me properly as part of the team..."

"Yes, Steve.... Good!  Now, about that acceptance....
As you say, you've been publicly stripped, collared,
branded as a slave and tattooed with your ID... So
shall we just do the last step, then, and you can
start over as a proper slave....?"

"What's that, then?"  I was suspicious now, as
Billy-Joe's tone had changed, and there had started to
be a little glitter in his eyes.

"Well, you know, the final thing a new owner does to a
slave he's just acquired... That's all that's missing,
and the other slaves know it.  We can do it right now,
come on... Drop those shorts, and let's go into the
bedroom..."

"What the fuck are you on about, Billy-Joe?"

"Hasn't anyone told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Well, that when a new owner acquires a slave, he
fucks him ceremonially.  It's really significant for
the owner and the slave, as it shows that the slave
accepts total obedience to the will of his owner.
It's especially important for the newly-enslaved, as
it really does mark the end of their old lives for
them, when their cherry is taken.  I've been looking
forward to it, actually - I've always wondered what it
would be like to go up your ass...  I haven't had a
cherry to take since I got young Grunt here -
Straughan does all the estate slaves on the Colonel's
behalf...  In fact, have I told you, that's why he's
called 'Grunt'?"

"No, you fucking well haven't told me... And cut out
all this nonsense about you fucking me...."

"Steve, calm down!  And don't interrupt me again:
you've got to learn to think and act like a proper
slave.  Well, as I was saying, I bought young Grunt
here straight from the farms.  You're not allowed to
even fondle them before their sixteenth birthday, of
course, but I went along a week or two before and
watched the fresh crop at play, and it was obvious
that he was the right one for me.  They delivered him
to me on his birthday itself, so the slave started off
his new life with me fucking him... I  can't remember
what his original name was, but we had one of them
here already so I had to find a new name for him.  He
was so determined not to cry out in pain as I humped
him that first time that he buried his head in the
pillow and just grunted.. And there we were... Grunt!
Still does it, don't you, boy?"  Billy-Joe turned his
head towards Grunt at that moment. "You like to show
your appreciation of your owner's dick as it thrusts
in and out, and you grunt away in time to it!"

As he spoke, Billy-Joe had been idly scratching the
lad's head, and the young boy was clearly enjoying it.
 He'd come to sit at Billy-Joe's feet as we talked,
and seemed perfectly at ease with being naked.  "So,
Steve, let's go into the bedroom, I'll do the
business, as they say, and then you'll be a proper
slave...  I wonder if you'll make more noise than
young Grunt here did?  Want to come and watch, boy, so
you can tell me?"

The lad nodded eagerly at Billy-Joe, and Billy-Joe
went to get to his feet.  I pushed my big hand into
the middle of his grungy T, and he flopped back onto
the couch.

"No way, Billy-Joe!  You're not going to fuck me!  I'm
not some sort of queer, I'm..."

"No one ever said you are, Steve - although a lot of
guys get to enjoy dick up the ass after they've tried
it the first time.  No, you can just lie back and try
to relax, and I'll make all the running.  I've fucked
lots of guys, you know, so I'm fully experienced...."

"No, Billy-Joe!  You're not going to fuck me!  No way!
 I'm not taking dick, from you or anyone else!  You
can't treat me like this - I'm your buddy.. Buddies
don't fuck...."

Billy-Joe's eyes blazed, and he got to his feet and
stood over me.  Probably shoving him like that hadn't
been a good idea.

"Right, that's enough!  I've had all I can take from
you, Steve.  I've tried to be reasonable, tried to
make it as easy as I can for you, but you just won't
see sense, will you?  And I can see what Straughan
means.: you do really need an adjustment to your
attitude - and you're about to get one, as I am going
to fuck you!  And buddies do do it to their buddies,
you know... it's just that guys like you, always out
chasing pussy, sneer at them.   Well, let's see how
you feel after I've taken your cherry...."

"Fuck you...!"  I was on my feet now, and I almost
towered over him even though at one time I'd thought
we were about the same height.  I was sweating, of
course, but my body was in such great shape compared
to him - he really had gone to seed, and I could even
see the start of a ring of flab around his gut as he
stood there in the grungy T and absurdly baggy boxers.
 "No way are you putting that vile dick of yours
anywhere near my ass.  And there's no way you can
force me - look at you, you're disgusting - when we
were on the team together you used to look after
yourself, and now you've got a beer gut...."  I poked
at it, with my finger, contemptuously.

Billy-Joe grasped my finger, looked me in the eye and
said, in an authoritative kind of way that I'd not
heard him use before.  "Steve, I'm really sorry about
this.  I thought we'd talk tonight, and you'd see
reason.   Then we'd go to bed, and we'd fool around a
bit, explore each other, kiss, all the usual... Then
I'd fuck you, gently, and afterwards, when we were
lying together in that wonderful state you get after
really great sex, we'd talk, and...."

He paused, and looked almost sad. "Anyway, you seem
determined  to be stupid and obstinate, but I've got
to fuck you:  I know how to behave properly as an
owner, even if you don't behave properly as a
slave.... yet."

"No, Billy-Joe..."

"YES, Steve!  Someone's got to look after your best
interests, if you won't do so yourself!  If you're not
accepted here as a proper slave, there's nowhere else
to go, as we discussed.  So I'd be forced to sell you
- and then you'd never be free.  And, in any case,
your new owner would assert his rights and fuck you
the moment he got you home.  You'll be glad of this,
one day, when you look back on it... You'll remember I
kept my temper, rather than just having you taken out
side and flogged, and that I didn't just wash my hands
of you, but pressed on to keep my part of the
bargain..."

"What fucking bargain?  That you'd go up my ass..?"

"No, Steve, that I'd keep you as a voluntary slave.
Well, we lost the 'voluntary' bit through no real
fault of mine, but I am keeping you, and one day I
will let you go free.  Now, are we buddies again...?"

"Fuck no way!  No buddy of mine would fuck me..."

"Yes, that's the sad part, really.   I was looking
forward to a really great time today - lying naked
together afterwards, talking about college days,
shooting the breeze generally... Still, I've heard a
lot of my father's friends say over dinner, when
they've been talking about little problems in their
households, that you really can't be friends with a
slave.  Maybe we will be buddies again one day,
Steve... But now...."

He looked over to where Charlie and Coon were standing
- I remembered them again, and realised they hadn't
moved a muscle, or spoken, since they'd assumed
"rest".  "You two - take this slave into my dressing
room, and strap him to the punishment horse."

Charlie and Coon advanced on me, and I put up my fists
to defend myself.  But I knew it was useless - even in
my new muscular state, there was no way I could win
against both of them combined, and I could see from
the way that the were moving that they were used to
this, as they came at me from both sides and wouldn't
impede each other.  All I could succeed in doing was
in hurting one or both of them, and it wasn't their
fault - I knew they'd have to obey Billy-Joe or risk
being punished themselves.  So I just let my hands
drop uselessly, and Charlie took one arm, and Coon the
other, and they held me there in front of Billy-Joe.

"On his back, or his belly, sir?"  Charlie asked
quietly, his Jamaican accent soft in the now-still
room.

"On his back.  I want him to see me as I take his
cherry."  They went to move me, but Billy-Joe hadn't
finished.  Looking at me, he said "Do you see anything
different about you and the other slaves in the room,
Steve?"

I just ignored him, and he said "They're all naked -
or, rather, they're properly clothed, in their
collars.  But you've got those shorts on.  Grunt...."

The lad knelt in front of me and pulled my shorts
down.  Billy-Joe smiled.  "Now you're four slaves
together , wearing all you need in a master's
presence.  All nicely branded, all nicely 'skinned.
Notice any other differences still, Steve?"

I ignored him again.  "No, I suppose this is the
difference you can't see - they've all accepted their
status, and have all taken an owner's dick.  Unless we
had you all bend over and looked very hard, we
wouldn't be able to tell who had the virgin ass, and
who had had his cherry taken.  But we could probably
tell from their attitude. Not that it matters, as
you'll soon be all the same anyway!"

He signalled to Charlie and Coon, and they moved me
off through the door into Billy-Joe's dressing room.

End Of Part Seven


YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part eight

By Pete Brown  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


CHERRY PICKING TIME

I'd been in Billy-Joe's dressing room before when
staying at the house.  It was a nice room, comfortable
and warm.  One side was lined with the doors of the
closets where Billy-Joe kept his enormous collection
of suits, slacks, shirts, pullovers and stuff:  I'd
thought at the time that he needed a valet just to
keep it all in order! The other door held the doors to
his bathroom and bedroom, the third was almost
entirely covered in a mirror, and the fourth was lined
with glass-fronted shelves, drawers, and special
fitments to hold Billy-Joe's enormous stock of formal
shoes, sneakers, boots, and stuff.  Everything was
exquisitely fitted, and all the wood was fine old
mahogany that  was kept lovingly polished.  The room
spoke of tradition, elegance, wealth, and that special
southern way of life.

He had two comfortable armchairs in there, and some
days I'd sat there for quite a long time, laughing as
Billy-Joe tried to decide what to wear that day:  I'd
have been up for hours, gone for a run around the
estate, then showered and dressed.  I'd go into his
bedroom to find him still asleep, and I sometimes had
to strip the bedclothes off, and gently slap his ass
through his boxers to make him get up.  Then we'd go
through this performance of deciding for shorts or
slacks, formal or casual, which shirt to wear, which
tie went best with which clothes, and so on.  His
valet - a really big black buck at that time - had
pulled out item after item and Billy-Joe had let them
casually fall to the floor as he tried to make up his
mind:  it must have been a huge job, setting things to
rights afterwards.  It was easy for me, of course, as
I always travelled light and only ever had a couple of
shirts and so on - I relied on the excellent laundry
service in the house to make them clean and fresh each
day.  Billy-Joe had tried to explain it all to me, and
I supposed I'd seen one facet of it when my boss at
the office had talked to me at my appraisal interview.
 "Steve", Billy-Joe had said, "Folks around here
expect a gentleman to dress well, and always to be
immaculately turned out.  It shows you can afford
slaves, and know how to handle them."

I'd had to wait then whilst Billy-Joe showered (with
the big black helping him), and then they'd both come
back and the valet would help Billy-Joe dress.  I was
used to seeing Billy-Joe naked of course as we were
team mates, and roomies, but it did seem odd having
the big buck black there too, with his tackle flopping
around as he bobbed up and down, helping Billy-Joe
button his slacks, tie his shoe laces, and so on.  But
it seemed natural to Billy-Joe, so who was I to worry?


As Charlie and Coon led me in now, though, it seemed a
very different place - masculine, and scary.  And that
"southern way of life" of which it spoke was one where
I'd now been on the other side.  In front of the two
armchairs was another piece of furniture, now also -
one of the standard punishment horses. It seemed
strangely out of keeping for this room, not only
because of its purpose, but because it was an ultra
modern one, in chrome and black leather.

"Don't give us any trouble, man", Charlie whispered
pleadingly.  "We've got to do what we're doing, and we
don't want to have to hurt you..."  They led me over
to the horse, stood me at one end of the black leather
top, and pushed me gently backwards so that my head
was fully supported on it, but my butt just overhung
the other end. The leather felt cool against my back.
They dropped to their knees, pulled my arms down, and
I felt Velcro bindings hold my wrists to the front
legs.

Billy-Joe came in and looked down at me lying there,
effectively helpless.  He moved to stand by the side
of me, and ran the palm of his hand across my belly.
"Really nice, Steve.  I love those ridges overlying
the solid flesh.  The life really does agree with you,
as I've said.  And I'm glad I didn't allow Straughan
to have your belly hair shaved off - I've always
admired the way that little thatch spreads from side
to side, with the thicker spine of your treasure trial
running through it.  You really are one great-looking
piece of manflesh, Steve."

"Get your hands off me, pervert!"

"Steve, let's be clear about one thing.  It's more
than my hands that are going to be all over you very
shortly.  And it's not 'perverted' in any way - it's
just the appreciation that I , as owner, have for one
of my prize possessions.  I run my hands over the
curves on the Jaguar when the slaves have finished
polishing it, in just the same way.  And I get the
same feeling of pride of ownership."

Well, what could I say?  He'd borrowed money against
my life for his fucking car, and now he's telling me
he likes stroking us the same way.  But he hadn't
finished  with me - I almost arched my back in
surprise, as the nails of his thumb and forefinger bit
into the nub of my left tit!

"...and these", he went on, "Quite superb.  Lovely,
big, dark aureoles and nice big nubs.  And oh....
Steve... you do get excited when another man starts to
play with you!  I can feel your nub stiffening...."
He leaned over me and rubbed the warm damp palm of his
other hand over my right tit, and I squirmed slightly
as the kind of ticklish pleasure affected me.

He leaned back, grinning down at me.  "You told me
once you had sensitive nips, when it was so cold and
we'd been out training.  You were positively moaning
from where the cold had struck through your thin
sports shirt and it had made you all sore.  You know,
it's interesting, but there's one set of those
mythical lines the Chinese never show when they're
trying to convince you there's some scientific basis
to acupuncture:  the one that I always think joins a
guy's nips to his dick.  You'll be amazed how many
guys can't help getting an erection when you fondle
their tits a bit!"

I was evidently one of these, as I could feel my dick
was indeed rock hard.  Billy-Joe just laughed softly,
and almost whispered "So, Steve, getting a hard-on for
your owner, are you?  And after only a little bit of
foreplay?  You really are a dumb fuck, you know - we
could have had a good thing going if you'd thought
about your real nature, and our friendship."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?  All that desperate
chasing after women, all that whoring around.  And all
the time  down at the gym working out, all that
exercising, being captain of the football squad and
training hard with them and showering together.... You
really like men and men's bodies, Steve, but you're
ashamed to admit if for some reason.  You want to play
that game that so many guys play:  'I'm straight, even
though I like male skin'.  Well, play time is over,
Steve, as you're about to find out.  It's just a pity
you didn't get to where you are ultimately going to
get to sooner, so we could have played together."

As he was speaking, he'd moved around to stand between
my legs, and reached down to touch my rock-hard dick
that was standing up like a flagpole from my body.  My
feet were on the ground, and I tried to aim a good
kick at him, then to kind of scoop my legs around him
to throw him of balance.  At once, though, Charlie and
Coon threw themselves on to the floor, and grabbed my
ankles, and held onto them.

Looking along my body at me, Billy-Joe gave a wicked
smile.  "Now that wasn't very nice, was it, Steve?
Hardly the way to treat a guy you think of as a buddy,
much less the way you treat your owner?  Still, now's
as good a time as any to let me really feel your dick
in its new, streamlined shape!"

He started to caress and play with my dick, and I
wriggled and writhed as whole sets of sensations went
through me.  I wanted to jerk away from him.  I wanted
to thrust myself up at him.  I wanted him to stop.  No
I wanted him to carry on.  As he teased my shaft and
idly flicked at my meaty flange, I felt as if I might
die from anger, or from pleasure, or something.  To
try to stop myself from cumming, I started shouting,
calling him all the vile names I could think of.

He stopped, ran his fingers delicately over my dick
head, then moved back towards my head. "See, Steve,
perhaps there are things men can do for you.  Those
angry shouts are often done to disguise the real
feelings.  And your body knows what it likes -
look...."  He rubbed his thumb and forefinger
together, and I could see them glistening in the
light.  He held them underneath my nose. I tried to
turn away, but he gripped my chin with his other hand
and turned me back.  "See that?  Smell that?  That's
pre-cum, Steve.  You were about to get off on having
your dick played with by a guy!  So don't tell me
you're 'completely straight': every guy I've ever met
likes the feel of another guy's dick and likes to have
his own dick played with, if he's honest about it,
unprejudiced, and is given the opportunity."

"Still, I can't keep on playing - there's serious work
to do.  "Grunt... Come and produce some lube for us."


The young lad bounded over, and I saw that his dick
was already rock hard.  I remembered how I'd been at
sixteen - I could hardly keep it down, and was jolly
glad that I'd had tight briefs and jockstraps and
stuff under my pants.  Without even the tiny scrap of
cloth, Grunt was totally unrestrained and even though
he was really well hung, his dick was making such an
angle to the vertical that its head was almost
touching his belly.    He came and stood between my
legs, where Billy-Joe had been, and I bent my head
upwards to see what he was doing.  To my amazement, he
started to jerk off, right there, with Charlie, Coon,
Billy-Joe, and me all watching!  He didn't seem to be
a bit embarrassed or anything, and it didn't take him
long:  in horror, I realised that the warm sensation I
was feeling on my belly was his cum - he'd moved as
close to me as he could as he started to shoot, then
pointed his dick down so that his creamy white fluid
shot all over me, just missing my partially shaved and
trimmed pubes.

He stood there, panting, and I shouted "You fucker,
Billy-Joe!  Making that lad cum over me!"

"You'll be glad of it, Steve, believe me.  You know
the Colonel's heavily into organics and the
environment and all that stuff? Well, he won't allow
any artificial lube to be used here:  he says it's a
waste of the earth's resources, when there are
perfectly natural and very good sources always 'to
hand', in a manner of speaking!  As well as being a
good fuck, Grunt here's really big into cum
production, aren't you, boy?"

The lad nodded, smiling and eager to please, and
Billy-Joe gave him an affectionate slap on his perfect
butt as he came around and stood between  my legs.

"Right, Steve, time to begin.  You two - take his legs
back...."

Charlie and Coon continued to hold my ankles, but
pulled them back up over me, so that they were almost
touching my shoulders.  I'm flexible enough that it
didn't hurt at all and there's no fat on me that makes
it difficult to bend at the hips or anything, but I
hated it - I knew that in this position, with my legs
spread wide apart, my hole was completely exposed.

Billy-Joe moved in again.  He didn't play with my dick
this time, but started to massage my balls.
"Wonderful, Steve", he almost crooned.  "You don't
know how much I wanted to do this all that time we
roomed together... and now we've had that hair
removed... man, are you hung!  These are like  gulls'
eggs....  and now...."

If I could have, I would have jerked away from him as
the most extraordinary tingling and tickling spread
through me - Billy-Joe must have been lightly running
his finger nail up and down that incredibly sensitive
area between the back of my balls and my ass hole.
How do I know?  Well, I once had a real slut of a
girlfriend who just couldn't leave me alone down there
- gave fantastic head, sucked my balls, and ran her
long manicured nails along that little ridge of skin
down there.  She'd wanted to play with my pucker, too,
and hadn't believed me when I told her to cut it out,
and said that all the guys liked it really:  I'd
finally had to slap her a bit, I think, to make her
stop, and we broke up soon afterwards.  I used to look
at the guy she picked up with after me, a big hulk on
the ice-hockey team, and wondered if she got her
finger up him.

There was no escaping Billy-Joe though, was there?  I
felt his finger nail scratching at my pucker, and then
starting to pry its way in.  I clenched my ass muscles
as best I could to try to stop him, and broke out with
a new wave of obscenities at him.  But Billy-Joe just
smiled down at me, and said "Easy, Steve...  My, but
you're tight!  No one has ever been up here, have
they?"

"No, motherfucker, of course they haven't.  Except
when the doctor gives me a rectal exam."  I started my
stream of obscenities again.

There was a stinging slap across my naked butt, on the
sensitive exposed area that nothing ever touches
normally.  I yelped with surprise.

"OK, Steve, that's enough!  I'm tired of hearing you
talk about my ancestors and our sexual habits.  Now,
unless you keep quiet, I'll have you muzzled - and
that would be a pity.  When you first scream as my
dick skewers you, I want to hear it.  And it's good
for you, as a good shout lets out all the tension and
anger.  But no more swearing, no more blaspheming, or
the muzzle goes in, understand?"

I remembered the feeling of complete helplessness that
had swept over me at the doctor's office, and decided
I'd shut up.

Another stinging slap - harder this time - and I
yelped again.  "When your owner speaks to you, you
reply.  Remember that simple rule, Steve?  I asked you
if you were going to shut up, or be muzzled... and you
owe me a reply."

 "OK."

Another stinging slap.  This time it wasn't just  the
shock.  It really did hurt.

"Lesson time continues, Steve.  'OK' is all right
between buddies, but from a slave to his owner?  If I
have any more insubordination or impoliteness from
you, the next time my hand touches you it won't be
your butt:  it will be your balls.  Understand?"

Gritting my teeth with anger and frustration, as I
knew I was powerless and Billy-Joe might just start
beating my balls, I muttered "Yes, master.  And please
don't muzzle me, master."

"Good, Steve!  I think we're making real progress
here."

Is progress when you're coerced really progress?  I
don't know, but it didn't seem to be the time to argue
the point.  I lust lay there, the three slaves
surrounding me, as Billy-Joe reached down and casually
wiped his fingers around in the pool of Grunt's cum
still lying on my belly.  His finger was at my hole
again then,  but this time it wasn't the nail gently
scratching to request entrance.  It was the tip of his
middle finger, pushing and pushing.  I tried to
slither backwards on the horse, to get away from it,
but it was no good - the terrible insistent pressure
continued, until with a kind of "plop" it gained is
objective.  I moaned.  Billy-Joe smiled.

"Now, just relax, Steve.  I'm nicely lubed, so this
shouldn't hurt.  I'm going to get my whole finger
inside you, then I'm going to fuck you a bit with it,
then my second finger's going to go in, then I'm going
to fuck you with two fingers, then I'm going to use
them to stretch your hole a bit...  no, a lot.  As I'm
sure you know from all that time together, I'm got
quite a big dick myself, and I want to make it as easy
as possible to get in to you.  See - that's what
friends are for!  Some owners just dry fuck their
slaves with no preparation - the slave remembers it
for ever!  But I'm more considerate - and, anyway, dry
fucking a virgin hole can give you nasty burn
abrasions on your dick."

Well, he did.  I lay there and whined, moaned, and
swore silently to myself as Billy-Joe's assault on my
hole continued.  He kind of stood at right angles to
me, and rested his other hand on my lower ribs to
steady himself so he could get a proper purchase with
his fingers up me.  He refreshed the supplies of
Grunt's cum often, and had it not all been so
disgusting and humiliating, I think that I might have
found it mildly enjoyable.

He stopped, then, looked down at my face once more,
and said "So this is it, Steve - you'll never be the
same again!  You're going to lose your virginity,
buddy, to your old team mate - and there isn't a blind
thing you can do to stop it.  So try to relax, and try
to store this all away in your brain... the first time
is special, you know."

He snapped his fingers, and young Grunt came over and
eased Billy-Joe's boxers off him, then neatly folded
them.  He went to help Billy-Joe off with his T, but
Billy-Joe waved him away.  Billy-Joe's big, thick dick
stuck out from under the hem of the T: yes, I had
looked at it when we were roomies, and had decided
that it was thicker than mine, but shorter; overall, I
had the best combination.  I wondered if he'd decided
to keep the T on as he was ashamed of his belly.  Or
was it that in this group of good looking naked men,
he knew that he was the one who just wasn't in proper
condition?   Funny how your mind starts to think abut
things like that when there a lot more important
things going on, isn't it?  Who knows - but my
speculation was cut short as Grunt fell to his knees
in front of him, dipped his fingers in the pool of his
own cum still lying on me, then with what amounted
almost to reverence, proceeded to stroke and caress
Billy-Joe's dick until it was completely coated,  and
stood out proud, shining in the subdued lighting.

"Right now, Steve.... Here it is", Billy-Joe almost
whispered as he moved towards my ass.  "Get ready,
boy, to feel your owner and master."

I now know there's always something special about the
feel of a dick head against your pucker - most of us
have felt it, haven't we?  That soft, hard, warm,
firm, spongy piece of flesh that's impossible to
describe.  In spite of having been massaged and
stretched, I was still tight as a drum, and Billy-Joe
stood there, his head pushing into me.  He grunted as
he moved forward, trying to gain entry.  Then pulled
his hips back slightly, and thrust forward almost
viciously.  I gave a howl at the unexpectedness of it,
but something  had happened - my wall had been
breached, my sphincter had opened, and Billy-Joe's
dick head was inside me.

"There!"  He almost shouted in triumph.  "How does it
feel, Steve, to have me inside you?  How do you like
your owner's dick forced into you, being utterly
unable to prevent it, and having it ravaging your
ass?"

"Bastard!", I managed to say through clenched teeth -
it really had hurt, but I was determined not to give
him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Billy-Joe didn't reply, but I could see him raising
himself gently on his toes a little, then leaning
forward so that more of his dick slid into me.  I was
in real discomfort - yes, that's the word for it,
rather than pain.  It felt huge, and solid, and was if
it was trying to split me in half.  But at the same
time there was that indefinable something, that
tingling, that tells you that something strange, yet
exciting, is going on.  It was almost as if I could
feel the motion of his dick, and it seemed to go on
for ever.  Then I felt Billy-Joe's pubic hair
scratching the delicate parts of my ass, and I knew he
must be fully home.  He looked down at me again, his
face now streaked with sweat - it must have been the
excitement, rather than the exertion - and whispered
"Yes, Steve, I'm right in you now.  You're skewered on
my dick, boy.  My big, thick dick has forced your ass
open, and your ass is mine!  If you doubted that you
belonged to me before, know it now, boy:  know that I
own you, not only as a slave, but also as a catamite,
who has felt my dick right in him.  How does it feel,
Steve? How does it feel now that you know that you're
mine, totally and absolutely and completely?"

"Bastard!", I said again.

Billy-Joe pulled his hips back and I got that
wonderful feeling of relief you get as a dick that's
been forced into you pulls out - somehow, the flesh of
your pucker that's been stretched and stretched almost
relaxes, and a great flood of well being went through
me, rather like you get when you've been straining to
drop a huge turd.  But then he thrust forward again,
and, in spite of my determination to remain silent, I
couldn't help moaning as it was so acutely
uncomfortable.   "Ah, Steve, a reaction at last!  Are
you going to turn out to be one of those guys who
moans in time to my thrusts, like young Grunt?"

To make his point, he went in and out about four
times, and I just couldn't help moaning and groaning.
Billy-Joe was starting to smile now, and just to show
his complete mastery of me, he pulled back and did a
number of short, sharp, hard thrusts, so that his body
slammed into mine with a great slapping sound.  That
hurt! Well, it hurt, and yet it was pleasurable at the
same time.  I just couldn't help shouting each time,
and, in truth, I couldn't tell you whether that was
with the discomfort, or the excitement.

Billy-Joe went on and on - sometimes fast, sometimes
slow.  Sometimes long, leisurely strokes where his
dick was right in me, and sometimes little spurts of
energy that only moved his dick an inch or so.  After
a time, I  realised I was totally out of control - I
was writhing as best I could, moaning, crying out...
making all the signs that I'd seen in a woman when I'd
really fucked her hard.  A part of my brain said that
this couldn't be happening to me - I couldn't be
reacting this way to getting fucked.  But my body
seemed to know better - sweat was pouring off me, and
I was breathing rapidly and shallowly, and I knew my
heart was racing away.

I don't know how long it went on for.  I lost all
track of time.  It was as if my whole being focussed
down to the feeling of Billy-Joe inside me, the sounds
we were making, and the way our bodies were reacting.
Suddenly Billy-Joe threw his head back, his back
arched and his hips came right forward so that his
dick plunged as deep as it could into me for one last
time.  "Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm cumming....", he
shouted, and, as I looked , a great spasm seemed to go
through him.  A moment later he collapsed down on top
of me, his dick still buried deep inside.  I was
conscious of his sweat-soaked T pressing down on my
sodden chest, and I could feel us both panting and
gasping, and our hearts racing, as he lay on top of
me.

His sweat-soaked face was pressed close to mine, and I
could smell the stale beer on his breath.  His lank,
damp hair fell forward over his face, and I saw he was
smiling.  "You're one great fuck, Steve!  Really
tight, but a great fuck!  It's really good to pound a
big, muscular ass like yours, as a change from young
Grunt here, or some of the guys in the city who've got
no muscle tone at all.  I'm going to look forward to
my weekends here in future..."

"Bastard!  Billy-Joe, you fucked me.  You fucked me
against my will.  You utter cunt, Billy-Joe.  You did
to me what I was accused of doing to Chantelle, even
though I didn't...!"

"Two big differences, Steve:  one, I'm a guy and
you're a guy.  Guys can do what they like with each
other, you know.  You have to be more careful when
women are involved. And two, you're a slave, my slave.
 I own you, I own your body, and I own your ass.  And
when I've fucked you a few more times, I'll own your
mind, too."

"Never!  I may be your slave, but you'll never own
me."

"Yes I will, Steve.  You've already seen how I can
make you take my dick, and I can do it whenever I
want, you know.  And you'll soon get used to servicing
me, making that nice warm hole open up to receive my
seed.  How does it feel, Steve, to have your owner's
man-juice right inside you?  Do you like to feel the
essence of me right up your ass?  Next time, I'll show
you how it feels to take it right down your throat - a
slave should get used to servicing his owner's dick
from both ends."

"Bastard!  We used to be friends, Billy-Joe, and
you've raped me.... So fuck off, forget it, leave me
alone..."

"Yes, Steve.  But you can't really be friends with a
slave, you know.  And I can't leave you - as I said,
I'm doing this for your own good, really.  This way I
won't have to sell you.  This way I can give you your
freedom, eventually.  And you have to learn to live
like a slave, think like a slave, and act like a slave
to prevent Mr Straughan from complaining.  So from
time to time we'll have to repeat this little
experience.  But, as they say, you'll always remember
the first time - however many more dicks you take in
your lifetime, you'll always remember that it was
mine., Billy-Joe's, that was the first."

He pulled out of me, and stood there by my head now,
with my ass juices and his semen slicking his dick and
almost dripping off onto the floor.  He was
detumescing rapidly, and as I watched in fascinated
horror, he snapped his fingers and pointed at his dick
- young Grunt at once fell to his knees, then started
to lap and lick at Billy-Joe, cleaning him up.  He
must have caused Billy-Joe some discomfort
occasionally, as during this process  Billy-Joe would
casually push Grunt's head away from him, slap his
face, then point, to indicate that the lad should
re-start.

"See, Steve?  This is how you slaves have to work
together.  If you hadn't had your ass properly
cleaned, think of how vile it would be for Grunt."
Actually, I thought it was pretty awful for Grunt
anyway - that mixture of Billy-Joe's semen, my sweat,
and worse, must be nauseating.

Billy-Joe signalled to Charlie and Coon, and they
lowered my legs to the ground.  It was a relief to be
un-bent, I suppose, but they made no move to undo my
hands so I had to continue to lie there on the
punishment horse.  I watched as Charlie and Coon moved
back and stood respectfully at "rest" against the wall
again, although they were clearly excited - their
dicks were half-hard, and I suspected they'd been
really hard when Billy-Joe had been fucking me.  I
could se little drops of pre-cum had formed at each of
their piss slits.  Grunt finished his cleaning of
Billy Joe, then helped Billy-Joe back into his shorts.
 Billy-Joe went to one of the arm chairs and sat down,
sprawling luxuriantly, and Grunt went out and came
back in with another beer for him.

Billy-Joe chugged his beer down noisily, looked at me,
and said "Doing the right thing can be hard work,
Steve.  I hope you appreciate what I've done for you."

I decided to say nothing, and Billy-Joe went on "Well,
I've done my duty as your owner, and taken your
cherry.  Now, there's only one thing left to do, to
finally finish the process.  It's an old tradition,
really, and not all that relevant these days, but
traditions are so important, don't you think?"

I remained silent, but started to wonder what the fuck
he was planning now.

"Yes, in the old days, when there were a lot of female
slaves and we needed to take their cherries, there was
always the concern that it might be during their
fertile period, so the owner might inadvertently sire
a pup.  Potentially a bit embarrassing, what, to have
your kids as slaves?  So they hit on the great idea of
having a slave fuck the woman immediately afterwards,
so no one would ever be sure who was the sire.  Neat,
eh?  Of course, it would be pointless today, with DNA
and stuff.  And we don't have many women slaves.  But
somehow the old traditions linger on, albeit slightly
changed:  after you've experienced the pleasure of
your owner's dick for the first time, we still get
another slave to fuck you.  So that if any semen
trickles out of you, no one will ever know if it's
mine, or the slave's."

Oh no, I thought - not again.  He couldn't be serious.
 I went to protest, but he was carrying on talking.
"I tell you what, Steve, as we were buddies, I'll let
you choose - which of these slaves do you want to fuck
you?  Who's going to be number two up that ass of
yours?  One of these two fine blacks - not that it
will make much difference, as they're so alike -  or
young Grunt here?  He's got a nice young, fresh dick,
you know, and doesn't get much of a chance to use
it..."

"Fuck you, Billy-Joe!  Haven't you done enough to me
already?"

"Steve, you still don't get it , do you?  I'm only
doing this to make sure you survive, old buddy.  You
need to be able to fit in here, so Straughan will let
me keep you.  That's the only way to prevent me from
having to sell you...   And Straughan and the Colonel
are strong on tradition, you know.  Straughan told the
Colonel that you needed your cherry taken, and so I've
done it.  Now, what do you think he'd say if he heard
we hadn't followed through, and done the rest?  After
all, it can hardly matter to you - it's the first one
that's important, and after that the rest is easy..."

"Please, master, please, Billy-Joe, please... Please
don't make me take more dick.  I'm a guy, who likes
fucking women... Please...."

"Oh, Steve.  You still don't get it, do you?  All the
slaves here are male, as all of them are expected to
take part in sex. It keeps you interested, it keeps
you amused, and it keeps you fit.  Now, are you going
to choose one of these magnificent black bucks, or
young Grunt?"

"No way!  As I said...."

"You say far too much, Steve, for a slave.  Now, from
here on in, just try to only speak when you're spoken
to!  There have been things said tonight that slaves
shouldn't say to masters... I'll forgive it this time,
as you're new to it.   But no more, understand?"  He
looked over to where Charlie and Coon were standing,
and snapped "You, on the left, over here and fuck this
one's ass:  and be quick about it."

It was Charlie, I saw.  He stood between my legs, and
I didn't have the heart to kick out at him:  it wasn't
his fault, after all, that he was going to have to do
this.  He lifted my legs up and put my feet over his
shoulders, then bent forward so that my legs bent and
his big, handsome face was hovering over mine.  "I'm
sorry, Steve, man", he whispered, "But I'll be as
gentle as I can...."

He reached down and fumbled with his dick, and then I
felt again that amazing feeling of a warm dick head
nudging my pucker, asking for, no, demanding, entry.
Billy-Joe sat on his easy chair, his beer in his hand,
watching intently.

"Come on, slave", he commanded Charlie.  "I want some
action.  Get stuck in there, as we  haven't got all
night!"

Charlie inched forward, then thrust with his hips.  I
must have been looser now, as his dick slid into me,
and the next moment he was fucking away - none of the
finesse of Billy-Joe, with varied stroke lengths,
changing speeds, and different pressures:  no, this
was just a crude, persistent vigorous in and out,
until, after only a very short time, he too had thrown
his head back and his face had set into that rictus of
emotion that I now know means that you've shot your
load.

He pulled out of me, and Grunt, at Billy-Joe's signal,
cleaned up his dick. It seemed somehow strange to see
the pure alabaster whiteness of the young lad pressed
into the solid black muscle of the older man.  Charlie
had a smile of pure pleasure on his face as Grunt
licked at his dick and balls, and occasionally made
little whimpering noises at some specific action.  But
of course he did not slap the lad, as Billy-Joe had
done - there's loyalty amongst slaves, I suppose.

"OK, Steve, your turn!  I could have that other black
fuck you, I suppose, but he's very like the one who's
just taken you, and there's no sport in that.  The
only one who hasn't really performed is young Grunt  -
it might be amusing to have his young, vigorous dick
plunging up you.  But he can't sustain it - four
thrusts and he's cum.    It does occur to me, though,
that we might have a second 'taking of the cherry',
though.  Have you been up another guy's ass, Steve?"

"NO, of course not... I don't fuck guys..."

"You mean you used not to fuck guys... Now you're a
slave, you do exactly as you're told. And rather than
having Grunt fuck you, I want to see you fucking
Grunt."

"No way!  I don't care what you do.  I don't fuck ass.
I'm not fucking that lad...."  Actually, I suppose I
was telling a tiny lie -  I had occasionally tried to
slip my dick up the ass of a girl friend, just to see
what it was like, but they'd always screamed and told
me to stop  It had always seemed deliciously wicked
and decadent, so I don' really know why I was refusing
to do it up a guy's ass - there couldn't be much
anatomical difference, after all.  But I wasn't going
to give Billy-Joe even the hint that I might go with
another guy, was I?

Billy-Joe sat there, and said "Well, it's a pity that
the evening's entertainment has to end so soon.  And I
think your balls are still full, Steve.  It's not fair
that most of us here have had sex but you haven't...
And I don't like your continuing defiance.  But let's
see if we can do something about it...!"

He snapped his fingers again, and Grunt, who had
resumed his position kneeling by Billy-Joe as he lay
sprawled in the armchair chair, at once became all
alert attention.  Billy-Joe rubbed the lad's cropped
head almost affectionately, then whispered something
into his ear.  A huge smile flowed across his face,
and Billy-Joe gave a little smirk, too.  Grunt leapt
up, and the next instant was astride me, straddling my
belly (that was still slimed from the lad's cum from
earlier).  I could feel the warm moistness of his ass
against me, and he leaned forward and started to
gently tweak my nipples.

I tried to twitch and stop him, but even though he was
only sixteen he was a solid lad, firm and muscular,
and with my hands still restrained there was just no
way I could dislodge him from where he was sitting on
me.  I shouted for him to stop, but he carried on
toying with me, and as my nips were now standing
upright, hard, from my pecs, he spat into the palms of
his hands, then pressed down on them and rolled his
palms around.  I could no longer shout at him to stop,
and my moans of pleasure were the only sounds that
could come from me.  The inevitable happened, too - I
could feel my dick straining towards the sky, as he
continued to assault the tender nubs.

Grunt stopped working on my nips and reached behind
him and searched around for my dick whilst continuing
to keep his eyes fixed on mine..  Feeling it hard, he
moved his body back slightly, and the sweat on his
smooth white back felt warm and sensual as he pressed
against me.  I'd never had another man against me like
this before, but, to tell you the truth, if I hadn't
been looking up at Grunt and knew it was him, it would
have been difficult to tell that it wasn't a woman -
his skin was so soft, and totally without hairs, that
I could have made that mistake.

His hand stroked up and down my shaft, almost rolling
it against his skin and trying to snuggle it into the
cleft between his butt cheeks.  I was moaning
uncontrollably now, and I just knew that pre-cum must
be pouring from me - no one had ever played with my
dick like this before, as most of the women I'd fucked
had been very conventional, and it was a wholly new
sensation for me.  But Grunt didn't stop there - he
now raised himself up off me slightly and moved his
body backwards, and still gripping my rock-hard dick
started to stroke the tip of it gently along the
underside of his ass - I could feel it nudge the silky
softness of his ball sac, and then he pushed it
backwards so that my tip touched his pucker.  I
thought I was going to cry out, it felt so amazing,
and little waves of tingling pleasure assaulted my
brain.

I could see Billy-Joe staring intently at what was
happening, as were Charlie and Coon, who were both
erect.  I guessed Billy-Joe must be, too, but his dick
was hidden by the baggy T and loose boxers he was
wearing.

Grunt gripped my cock harder now, and slid his hand up
and down my shaft a couple of times to make sure I was
absolutely achingly erect, then gently, ever so
gently, his eyes locked on mine, he lowered himself
down on to me.  My dick told me that it was being
pressured to do something, but still the boy lowered
himself until I felt a kind of "pop" and  I knew he
had fed me up inside him.  Grunt now broke into a huge
grin, and, still watching me closely, started to rock
up and down on me.

I had one really slutty girl once who didn't want me
to fuck her normally - all she wanted to do was to
ride my dick like this, whilst I reached up and played
with her breasts.  My arms were still fastened now, of
course, so I just had to lie there as Grunt rode me -
up and down, up and down - it was like being jerked
off by the most soft, silky hands imaginable.

He got faster and faster, and his cries - yes, I
suppose they were grunts - were synchronised with my
own guttural noises - somewhere, from somewhere deep
down inside me, I could hear myself making these
visceral sounds brought on by utter abandonment to
sexual passion.

To my amazement I found my body responding almost
involuntarily - as he rode up and down, I flexed my
thighs and forced my dick up and down, as if I was
desperate to get as far inside him as I possibly
could.  There was a lot of slapping of flesh against
flesh as his tender ass and balls coming down met my
pelvis trusting upwards, and the motion of his body
was causing little drops of sweat to fly off him and
land all over me.

I just couldn't hold it - I felt my cum bubbling up
from my balls, and as the lad sank down on me the next
time, I started to pump my cum up into him.  He didn't
stop, though, and continued his ride of me.  I was in
real trouble now, as my dick is incredibly sensitive
once I've shot - as his motion continued I started to
writhe again, desperate to get my dick out from him to
stop the exquisite sensations that were racing through
me - those of you who have sensitive dicks will know
what I mean:  you want it to stop, you're desperate
for it to stop, but, on the other hand, you want it to
go on for ever!  I was shouting and screaming now,
gasping for air, completely abandoned.

Grunt looked alarmed, then sank back down, quivering
from his exertions, but smiling down at me.  He bent
forward, and kissed me on the lips!  I was so
astonished and unprepared for this simple gesture from
the lad that I didn't know what to do, so I did
nothing.  His tongue was trying to force itself into
my mouth, and now his hands were pressed into the side
of my face - he seemed desperate to want to get inside
me, to possess me in some other way.

"That's enough, Grunt!".  Billy-Joe's voice rang out
like a pistol shot.  "I told you to make him cum, not
to have some lovey-dovey session!  I just needed him
to feel ass around his dick, not to start making
proper love to you - now get off him, at once!"

Grunt climbed off me, very reluctantly, I thought, and
I raised my head to look along my body.   My dick was
collapsing now, covered in my cum and Grunt's sweat,
and there was that lucious, heavy smell of sex in the
air.

"So, Steve, how does it feel to have fucked an ass?
Good, isn't it?"

"I didn't fuck ass..."

"Yes you did.  I've had Grunt ride other men, you
know.  Those who really don't like it just lie there,
perfectly still.  But you joined in, didn't you?  Your
were thrusting up and down, almost as if you were
synchronised with him but completely out of phase, so
that you were trying to plunge deeper and deeper into
his ass.  It's great, isn't it? Young, tender, sixteen
year old boy ass?  Don't you wish you were here when
Grunt first lost his cherry?  Don't you wish it was
your dick that introduced him to the joys of sex?"

I don't know, honestly I didn't.  There was something
different about sex as I had just experienced it,
something that just seemed better than when that woman
had ridden me.  Having a hard, firm man's body on me
seemed somehow right.  I decided not to say anything
to Billy-Joe in reply, in case my answers
inadvertently revealed something to him that I did not
want - I had to think through what had just happened,
and until then, say nothing.

"I think we'll have to do this again", Billy-Joe went
on.  "Steve, you and Grunt are the only two slaves I
actually own on this whole estate.  I think it might
be companionable for us all to get together again,
don't you?"

Grunt was nodding eagerly, but I turned my head away
to the side, away from Billy-Joe.

"Ah, Steve... Body language!  Interesting.... Still,
I'm going back to the city early tomorrow, so time for
bed."  He looked across to Charlie and Coon and told
them to release me and take me back to the slave
quarters, then without even saying goodnight, he
walked into his bathroom, Grunt trotting obediently
behind him.

End Of Part Eight