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PassingPASSINGPart One – A journey to work, a surprise, a deal, and a party.It was already going to be a good day I knew as I stood waiting for theearly morning tube to the office. The big deal I’d had my people working onfor some days was going to happen today, as my client assured me in a”secret” conversation last night (we’re not supposed to talk to clientsother than using the company phones and company computers because of therequirements of the Financial Authority to be able to trace everything todo with high value transactions). But George and I had known each otherfor some years, and in various jobs with different employers as we bothclawed our way up the ladder I’d worked for him, and he’d worked for me,and we both knew that honest conversation between friends was exceedinglyhelpful in making goods deals happen!Not only that, though, but it was one of those glorious autumn morningsthat are possible even in London: the sun was shining and there was thatwonderful “nip” in the air that says the heat and humidity of summer was atlast over. Not so cold that I needed an overcoat, but cool enough to bebracing.The tube sighed to a stop with the doors right in front of me (I know whereto stand on the platform to get in at the right place which also positionsme for the exit at Canary Wharf). I was first in as I usually am, so couldtake my choice of a number of empty seats, which is one of the reasons thatI always travel in early (that and being in the office before my people, soI can get ahead of them by knowing what’s been going on overnight). I’m a”morning person” at my brightest and best first thing, although I do admitthat my abilities for dynamism and creativity fall off from about midafternoon. When I was starting out I had to endure going to meetings thatwent on late into the evening, but now I’m in charge all meetings finishbefore 18:00, and I say we’ll resume at 07:00 the next morning. I knowthat’s then a huge advantage for me!My day got even better as I sat down. Normally the tubes at this time inthe morning are filled with what I think of as the “Ds and Es”, an oldexpression I learned years ago when we still thought of social classesgoing down to D and E. No more, of course. But it’s still a convenientshorthand for me for the assorted collection of the remaining “blue collar”workers, the poor amongst the most recent wave of immigrants (although someof the young east Europeans, Turks, and south Americans can be visuallyquite exciting), and students going off to a morning shift at a coffee baror somewhere before going on to lectures.There, right opposite me, a confident half-smile on his face, was a simplystunning male. Early twenties, white, very self-confident looking, deeplytanned as if he had just come back from vacation, with a thatch of darkblond hair that looked just “scruffy” enough to declare that it had beenartfully (and expensively) cut by a high-class barber. He must have beenjust over six foot tall, I thought, and there didn’t seem to be a trace offat on his body; and his legs, casually sprawled out so that theyobstructed half the gangway, were lean and muscled. He was evidently oneof those men who like to go for a workout before turning up at the office,and who save time by travelling in to the city in their gym gear and changeinto their suits at the gym. His stuff was from one of those very expensivedesigner sports labels in that kind of shiny satin material that I findappealing. As I looked, I saw that his bronzed bare legs were covered inthat same dark blond hair that was on his head, except that they had beenbleached by the sun and so formed a kind of sheen of pale straw over theskin.Realising that I was doing more than give a casual glance at this beauty Iopened my paper as if to read (even after all these years I can’t get usedto reading the newspapers electronically). I started to flip through thearticles but my brain wouldn’t focus on them, but as I turned the pages Iwas able to get glimpses of him without my interest being too obvious. Andthe more I saw, the more he turned me on.There was a very prominent bulge in the front of his shorts that suggestedhis cock was on an appropriate scale to the rest of him, and I sat therefor a few moments speculating whether he’d be `skinned (if he was anAmerican he probably would be as I know most men there are stillcircumcised); but if he still had his `skin, was it one of those wonderfulones that generally only just covers the cock head leaving the piss slitpartially revealed? Or would it dribble off into what I consider to be anugly appendage hanging all shrivelled when not erect? And as I mused on Ithought about his balls – would they hang low in his sac, so that theyended well below the tip of his cock, or would they be a tight fit in hissac held high up, so that his cock rested on the top and caused it to lookhalf erect even when he wasn’t aroused? Either way I wouldn’t care if Iever had him naked in front of me!My speculation continued. His shorts were really quite short – unusualthese days when men do not want to be mistaken for slaves – and I could seethat therefore his tan must have come from wearing “proper” swimming gearfor serious swimmers, and he was not one of those spoilsports who goes onthe beach wearing shorts down to the knees! I could feel my own cockstiffening as I wondered if he might even be one of those men who is sokeen on swimming that he still used tiny Speedos! Or perhaps at someprivate beach or a rich friend’s swimming pool he might even swim and sunhimself naked. It was almost uncomfortable as my cock firmed up so muchthat I really wanted to grab my crotch and try to make a bit more room forit in my underwear, and it got worse as I thought of that glorious hardbronzed flesh covered in sun oil, glistening in the heat and with, perhaps,sweat dripping from his armpits! And that kind of confident man wouldsurely not be concerned to have a slave rub the oil into him…. all over.And probably a male slave, too, as he’d have nothing to be concerned aboutwith his magnificent body almost certainly being vastly superior to that ofthe slave.Given the very short shorts it was a bit surprising that his shirt had longsleeves – a T, or even better a singlet exposing his shoulders, would havebeen good. But it was at least made from the same stretchy-clingy materialas his shorts so I could see his biceps flexing as he moved slightly. Andthere seemed to be quite big prominent nipples, something I like as I thinkthey really make a man exciting, especially when set in big, darkaureoles. Surely he had the classic “six pack”, too – something you don’tsee a lot of these days as so many men now only do office work and do nothave the time to spend developing them. Ideally of course they’d come fromhard manual labour, but in our society that kind of work is now almostalways done by slaves.All too soon the tube was racing along in the long tunnel before CanaryWharf and I began to fold my newspaper as he stood up – simply, no strain,just the power of his legs pushing him upwards. He hefted his haversack onto his back effortlessly, and I just couldn’t help wondering what kind ofsuit he wore, and, more importantly, about his underwear that must be inthere too. An Adonis like that surely would not have a T or a vest underhis shirt as he’d want people to see his body under a tight shirt. And hemight even favour very low-cut briefs with those short legs that give yourcock plenty of room, rather than tight boxers.I simply couldn’t help but notice that he had the classic body shape -broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist in that delightful “V” somemen have, and from there the flaring of his buttocks that seemed to betightly clenched together before his powerful thighs began. What a rideall that promised – but I knew I had no chance, as a man like that wouldalmost certainly spend his time fucking a string of beautiful, young,big-breasted women. And even if he did go with other men, they would be thesame type as him – tall, confident, handsome, young “gym rats”…..He almost ran up the escalator, as you’d expect, even though they are verylong at that station, and as I’d managed to get myself behind him as weleft the train as I also ran (I’m not in bad condition!) so that I couldwatch the interplay of his legs, buttocks and body as he surged upwards. Iknew I’d lose him at the barriers as I had to go to the office and couldnot spare the time to follow him to whatever gym he used in the complex (orperhaps it was a private one in the tower where he probably worked).He fumbled for his travel pass at the barrier – I do hate it when peopleare not ready and impede the smooth flow – and I almost bumped in to him Iwas so close. But as he swung his haversack around having reached back into it for the pass, his sleeve dropped slightly – and there, to myamazement, on the underside of his wrist was tattooed the set of eightnumbers that could only be a SIN!I was now almost beside myself with lust! I’d been thinking, u*********slyI suppose, as one does, that this expensively-dressed confident stallionmust be a free man. But no – he was a slave. Someone’s property. Someoneperhaps like me actually owned all this handsome flesh and could order itto do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Some men have all the luck!It was a bit surprising therefore that when he got to the bottom of thenext set of escalators running up to the street that he did not defer tothe other passengers, as slaves are supposed to, but instead strode on tocarry on upwards as if the other passengers did not matter and he was asgood as them.Still, I had no time to waste and made my way to our office tower, and tookthe express lift up to the executive floor. I called George then on the”official” office phone to make sure the deal was still going ahead andthere had been no flaws detected overnight, before getting out my privatephone and pressing the buttons that triggered a number of private deals forme. George and I have secret codes for this, and we both think we deservean additional bonus after all the work we put in setting these things upfor our investors. It really doesn’t harm anyone as the stock prices onlymove very little as our private trades go through early (and we anywaylimit their size to avoid detection), and when the deal does go publicthere’s a much larger effect that benefits everyone.There was of course much excitement for the rest of the day amongst mystaff, I was interviewed for the lunchtime news magazine on the BBC, andconducted a couple of press interviews for tomorrow’s FinancialTimes. During the morning my PA suggested that there should be an”informal” get-together for all our staff who had been working so hard, andI told him to fix it for that evening to make maximum impact, and tocontact George and invite those working on the deal over there, too. MyPA’s good like that – personally I can’t be bothered with all these socialthings, but the younger workers seem to like it and it’s good for morale -and so I rely on him to remind me. And he knows without bothering me withthe details about how much to spend – I assumed that this deal wouldcertainly warrant champagne and canapés and he’d manage to get one ofthe better bars around the place cleared for our private party.I really wanted to go home at 18:00, but my PA had the executive carwaiting to take me the few hundred yards to the luxury hotel whose “skytop” room had been reserved for us, he told me. I could easily havewalked, but the car had apparently been ordered as there were pressphotographers waiting at the hotel to take one of those “atmosphere” shotsof me turning up, for tomorrow’s papers.It wasn’t too bad – George and I only had to endure a couple of photographsof us shaking hands in the lobby, and in the lift up to the top weexchanged a few private – very private – words about how our own personalfortunes had increased that days from our early dealings. Then of courseit was all applause from the staff, and that endless, loud, incessant,meaningless “chatter” of a party were there are many young, confident”climbers” working the room, and plenty of alcohol to fuel it all. I’dbeen doing my “senior management” bit, congratulating my key people andhinting at large bonuses, when George broke in and said “…and I’d likeyou to meet Jason, who’s one of my brightest young hopefuls, who thought ofall this initially and who badgered management to make it happen. He’s gota bright future with us, so no poaching him!”There, to my astonishment, was the young man from the tube that morning,but now in one of those very, very fashionable (and very expensive) suitsfrom one of the new designers – very slim legs, the waistband cut low so itlooked to ride almost on top of the cock, and the jacked shaped to thetorso, one button barely holding it closed. Only a super-confidentperfectly honed man could possibly wear a suit like that, and I guess thetailors cut them for those privileged few as an advertisement, making theirmoney from the other customers who vainly imagine they too look theperfection of manhood. There was a nod to convention in that the shirt wassnowy white (and it was clear he did not wear anything underneath it) andhe had an expensive Hermes tie that I recognised as I had a similar one inthe “a****ls” range, but with a different background colour.He stuck his hand out, saying “I’ve always wanted to meet you, sir…” Iwas struck dumb for a moment as it was so unexpected to see him like that,acting like a free man. I tore my eyes away from his crotch and chest andcouldn’t help but glance at his wrist as his hand was in front of me,looking for the tattooed SIN. But there was no sign of it, as his cuffswere fashionably long, up to the base of his hand, the better to displayhis elegant but expensive gold cuff links!I managed to make the normal polite conversation asking him about hiscareer, and telling him that if George ceased to treat him well he shouldconsider asking me for a job, and all three of us laughed, as you do. Thenthe swirl of the party engulfed me again and I carried on touring the room,accepting congratulations, and so on. In a quiet moment at some point Iasked George about Jason, asking for more details about his background.George told me that he’d applied to them, and they’d taken him on in arelatively low position a couple of years before, but he’d fought his wayupwards, and taken all the right exams for the mandatory financialcertifications, and so on, and so he assumed all the right checks had beendone. “And, of course, he’s got a real way with the ladies, and thatalways helps”, he added. “He’s got some glossy girl friend, I believe. Butthere are persistent rumours he’s slept with some of the clients along theway, particularly the older, divorced ones who are looking for a handsomestud to amuse themselves with.”I left as early as was socially permissible, knowing the younger employeeswould probably enjoy it more anyway without senior management present,especially as I told my PA that the champagne could continue to flow. WhenI got back to my apartment Greg was of course waiting for me, lookinganxious as I was so much later than usual. I like to think he’s genuinelyconcerned for me, but, being just a little cynical, I suspect his concernis somewhat tinged with a worry about his own future. I’d bought him at abargain price as the dealer claimed he was violent and unattainable, beingreturned from a previous owner as being dangerous. But I saw something inhim and bothered to take the time to ask him a few questions.. It turnedout that his three previous owners had all been rather cruel and unsuitedto slave owning really, and all Greg had been trying to do was defendhimself from their whips and other control instruments… and of courseonce the first owner had returned him he had a “reputation” and the nextowner was watching for it, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, found it….As he’d stood there in front of me at the dealer, naked, but somehowproudly defiant, I could see the marks of harsh usage on his belly,shoulders, and particularly his buttocks. Not only were there the weltsand marks from the whip and the cane, but a hell of a lot of bruising,suggesting he’d been tied up and beaten with fists also. He was older thanme by a few years, and some would say too old for a personal slave as hewas then in his late thirties and the fashion is of course very much foryoung slaves. But there was something in the way he held his body thatsuggested a military background, and when I asked him, it seems he had beenin the marines, but had been court-martialled for fucking an officer’swife, such an act being “not conducive for orderly relationships betweenofficers and men”. He’d not taken well to being enslaved for what heregarded as behaving normally, and indeed had been a little violent whenhis first buyer had attempted to use him sexually “but only enough to stophim ramming his cock up me”, he added. “I didn’t really give him thebeating perverts like that deserve”.As I inspected him, I was being very careful because of all the damage, andas I ran my hands over his hard, flat belly and felt the power in hisstrong buttocks, I felt rather sorry for him, I suppose. They’d nevertaught him that being “straight” was something no longer applicable in hisnew life, and so he had reacted as many such so-called straight men would.”You understand what will happen to you if I don’t buy you?”, I asked him,and he shook his head.”You’re such a low price because of your reputation that they can only sellyou for labouring down the mines, and you’ll never come to the surfaceagain. And with your history, they’ll geld you first, to calm you down.And they’ll get a whole group of guards to fuck you when you’re no longer afull male, to get you used to it.”I could see all his muscles tense up as I said this, and went on, calmlyand quietly, “On the other hand, you’ve got the good, hard body of a manwho knows how to look after himself. And you’re used to obeying orders asyou were a marine. I am very busy building my career, and need a slave tolook after the house, the garden, the car, all the stuff like that so I’mnot bothered with it and have to spend no time on it. And I’ve got no timeto spend chasing women, and all that entails. So I need a slave for sex,too.””So you’ll fuck me..?””Not very often. But I do like a warm, wet mouth around my cock. And ifI`m excited, you can expect to gag and choke as I thrust deep down yourthroat.”He glared at me, and I gave a shrug “Well if you’re not interested… I’llnever force a slave to have sex. You have to ask me if you can be myslave, if I will buy you. Otherwise I guess it’s down to the localhospital to have those balls off.”He stood there, immobile now, and I could almost see him thinking (he’sbright enough, not as clever as me, of course, but aversely intelligent).”Please….”, he stopped, and swallowed.I waited, looking expectantly. “Please will you buy me?”.”That’s not the kind of respect I’m after from a slave. How did you speakto officers? I’d have thought you would be respectful and obedient to yourofficers and betters.””Please will you buy me… Sir?”I shrugged. “I don’t bargain with slaves. You know how I will use you.You have to ask for it all. Let’s hear it again.””Please, will you buy me, sir? And you can fuck me, sir? Please.””Of course I can fuck you if I buy you. You’ll be my slave. There’s nopermission from you required. Again…..””Please will you buy me, sir. And will you fuck me, please, sir…?”I could see it was a real effort for him to say that, but I felt that I hadestablished the ground rules at least. I reached down and wrapped myfingers around his cock, and used my thumb to tease back his foreskin. Hebacked away, but did not swear or otherwise abuse me, although I couldsense that if he hadn’t been cuffed he would have reached out and stoppedme. I stared into his eyes as I stroked him gently and the inevitablehappened – he started to go hard, and soon his very pleasingly long, thickcock was lying across the palm of my hand.”Properly fertile, are you? Plenty of cum?””I’ve never had any complaints from the women.””Nor will you ever have them in the future. I expect my slave to stay awayfrom sex with women as it causes to many problems. But I will let you wankyourself – I won’t keep you in enforced chastity, as I think it’s bad for aman.”I reached down and cupped his testicles with my other hand. He’s “lowslung”, with the balls in a long sac with the end below the tip of hiscock. They felt pleasingly heavy, and I could see him tense as my fingersseparated them and squeezed each one in turn – I didn’t after all want tobuy a slave who might have testicular cancer, and I know a lot of men aretoo stupid not to do this simple test on themselves frequently.There was only one think left to do, and calmly and quietly – although myheart was racing – I ordered him to turn round and bend from the waist.Was he resisting as I pulled his buttocks apart? He certainly was sweatingheavily as I ran the tip of my finger along his crack, then teased hisasshole. When my finger probed it his whole body tensed, and there was adelightful totally involuntary clenching of his buttocks. I sensed he wasan anal virgin.Anyway, forgetting that old history, five years on he’s now worried Isuppose that I might sell him. Or perhaps I might be assigned overseas,where slaves are not allowed. Or die. He recognises that his future healthand happiness is totally dependent on mine as his owner, and so worrieswhen things are not following my usual routine.So there he was, holding the door open for me as he’d heard the lift doorping – there’s a private direct lift up to the penthouse. He was dressedin his “house” clothes, that is to say a small pair of slave shorts, thekind I like, with those tiny legs that emphasise the thighs, and the waistcut so low that as well as his treasure trail there’s a suggestion of hisshaved pubes poking out, and at the rear the very top of his crack; and atight sleeveless T that only just reaches down so that there are deliciousglimpses of his belly when he moves, and where the arm holes are cut low sohis pit hair can be glimpsed. He’s barefoot around the house which kind ofadds to the interest, as there’s nothing to obstruct me seeing the hairs onthe top of his long, thin toes.He broke out into a smile as he saw I was in a good mood, and fussed aroundtaking my coat, hat, gloves and stick to hang neatly in the coat cupboard.I also let him take off my suit jacket, but as it was late and almost timefor bed, I kepi my trousers, shirt and shoes on, but did pull off my tie.”Dinner, sir?”I’d had two glasses of champagne and several of the canapés and do noteat to excess to keep my figure trim. “No, nothing”.His face fell, as he normally sits at the dining table with me and tells meodd snippets of what’s going on in the building and the neighbourhood – hespends time with the building concierge I know but I don’t particularlymind as it stops him getting bored, and provided the place is kept to myexacting standards, that’s allowed. My own meals are delivered by one ofthe private gourmet caterers each day, but he mostly eats slave rations (or”chow” as it’s familiarly known). And when I’ve had enough I usually allowhim to finish the remains on my plate as a treat – I know they say youshouldn’t feed dogs at the table, but he is after all a man not an a****lin most respects, and it’s a shame to waste food.He looked so crestfallen and the champagne was getting to me so and makingme feel generous, so I added “You can fetch me a glass of the ChateauPalmer, and you may as well eat the food yourself”, which immediatelycheered him up.As he ate – he’s learned to do so politely, however hungry he is – Ioutlined my plan for the morning and told him I would be leaving earlierthan usual and that he was to accompany me. He actually looked pleased, ashe likes any change from his rather dull routine, and I like to think healso enjoys doing additional special things for me.I was tired, and had no intention of fucking him that night And after twoglasses of champagne and a glass of excellent Bordeaux I really didn’t feellike having an erection and getting Greg to do something about it. Yes, Iknow that’s terrible – he’s five years older than me, in his early fortiesnow, and yet I bet the moment he fell into his bed in the small slave roomadjoining the master bedroom he’d be wanking himself stupid!The next morning Greg and I sat in the kitchen eating breakfast – for me myusual bowl of All-Bran and skimmed milk as I like to keep my bowels”regular”, and for him some of the slave chow. He’d rather have sausageand bacon and stuff, but it’s not good for you and so this kind of foodnever comes in to the house – although I suspect that the buildingconcierge does give them to him sometimes. But there’s no point in tryingto micro-manage a slave’s life – you can’t have TV cameras everywhere. And,anyway, I could hardly keep on punishing him, could I, and my only ultimatesanction would be to sell him and I’ve kind of got used to him and he suitsme.It only took him a moment to get ready to accompany me to the tube as hequite often goes running in the morning and he had his kit on – the same ashis indoor wear, actually: the small slave shorts and tight T. He tells mehe thinks it’s humiliating to have to show so much of his body when therest of the people in the streets are in their office clothes, but I thinksecretly he likes to be admired as he is in such obviously good conditionand every other man about his age must secretly envy him. All he needed todo was pull on and lace up his heavy boots: yes, that’s what he wearswhenever he goes out, and especially when he’s going running. I’ve offeredto buy him proper trainers, but he says that the marines always do theirtraining and running in combat boots and he wants to carry on like that toremind him of “real life”, whatever that means!Before we went out of the door I told him to kneel, as it’s then easier forme to clip a daily travel token for the tube on to his collar. Londonerswill know slaves are only allowed daily tokens and cannot be given weeklyor monthly tickets by their owners – they say it’s to prevent slaves”vanishing”, able to travel anywhere for a long time. But it seems to menonsensical: if a slave is going to make a run for freedom he can do itwithin the day anyway. As I have allowed Greg to have a chain collar it’sno big deal to fix the token to one of the links – when I first got him andsaw how active he was it seemed sensible to have a chain welded on ratherthan the more fashionable solid steel collars – these can so easily chafethe skin or cause sores and blistering where they rest on the collar boneand are not tight, and if you make them too tight so they fit high on theneck the slave can be inhibited from breathing and working. I don’t wantto have to keep calling in a slave doctor to treat sores, and a chain is somuch more of a sensible solution. And it was actually quite interesting toselect the right-sized links to complement Greg’s muscular neck andphysique generally, and then see it welded into place – it showed him hereally is owned by me, I think..There’s not a lot of people going in to Westminster Station in the morningas property around there is so very, very expensive (even for London) andit’s mostly only rich foreigners who can afford it. But it suits me tolive there as it’s very central, I like St James’ Park, the river, theability to walk to very good places to eat and the National Gallery, and soon. But down on the platforms it’s very crowded with people changing offthe other lines and heading out to Canary Wharf – I travel in early, asI’ve said, and usually get a seat. But it’s only very few stops and onlytakes about ten minutes, so it’s no great inconvenience. Mind you onoccasion I have to demand that a slave stands up and give me a seat – itseems as if the common rules of decency are breaking down somewhat.We arrived on the platform about ten minutes earlier than I usually do as Iwasn’t sure that Jason would be a regular traveller (I had not seen himbefore), or even if he would sit in the “right” carriage. I didn’t want totravel with him if I saw him as I did not want to have to makeconversation, so I stood at the back of the platform watching the tubesarrive – they’re very frequent, about every two minutes, and after five hadgone and I was planning to give up, my luck changed and there as the nextone slid to a halt was Jason.I pointed him out to Greg, then tried to make myself inconspicuous as Gregboarded – even though there were spare seats I was gratified to see Gregstood by the doors, as slaves should. I let one more train go so therewould be no possibility of seeing Jason at Canary Wharf, then took the nextone to start my day as usual.Greg was not back when I got home that evening, but I did not worry as Ihad given him explicit instructions as to what to do, and it’s not a bigdeal to have to heat my gourmet dinner for myself. In fact I was in bedwhen he finally got in, looking really tired and rather cold actually, andI told him to get some chow inside him and to get cleaned up before hereported on the day. He went off out of my bedroom looking reallyexhausted, but seemed to brighten up when I shouted after him that I hadleft the dessert from my dinner and he could have it.A few minutes later he came out of the shower into my bedroom with a toweld****d loosely around his hips – he’s allowed to use any of the towels Ihave used and discarded on the floor. There’s something very sexy about aman wearing a towel, I think, but there’s something even better, and it’swhy I let Greg wear shorts an a T around the house rather than being naked:I flicked my fingers and he let the towel fall, so I could see all of himin his natural state (except for his collar, which somehow makes it evenmore exciting). If I made him live and work naked, I wouldn’t have thepleasure of ordering him to unclothe in front of me.I lay there comfortably as he stood in front of me and recounted what hadhappened: he’d followed Jason from Canary Wharf Station to his gym, thenhad to wait outside until Jason came out in his suit and so on, dressed forthe office. Then he’d trailed him there, and waited all day for Jason toat last emerge. Greg really laid it on a bit thick, complaining about theboredom of standing around for hours, not really daring to go far in caseJason came out early, of getting cold as the weather wasn’t all that warmand he was nearly naked, and of being hungry. He did let slip though that aparty of women going out for a celebration lunch had taken pity on him andhad bought him a sandwich on the way back. It was pretty humiliatingthough, he said, as they wanted to be photographed with him with themrunning their hands all over him to “remember the lunch”. He went on “Andyou know how it is, sir, with women all over me, the smell of them, thetouch of their hands, well I couldn’t help throwing an erection, could I?And in my shorts, there’s no way of hiding it. They all screamed withlaughter, and wanted to photograph me all over again, especially the damppatch on my shorts where I was leaking pre-cum a bit. I mean, it’s notright, is it, for a man to be treated like that?””No, I suppose it isn’t right for a man, Greg. But it sounds to me as ifyou’re forgetting you’re a slave, and different standards apply. Now,continue….””Well, sir, he came out about 19:00 with this stunning girl on his arm, andthey went to get something to eat in that restaurant that looks out overCanada Square. It was really difficult as I couldn’t follow them in, andthere’s not a lot of slaves around at that time of night, and I thought Imight look conspicuous, so…””Yes, yes… Get to the point…””They came out about 21:30 and took the tube, with me following. She waspanting for it, sir, and he was going along with it – almost shocking itwas, how he held her and stroked her on the tube…””And you were erect again, I suppose?”Greg just smiled and shrugged. “Anyway I followed them home then and Iguess it’s his place, so I have the address. And the slave on the door ofthe building said he was always going in and out, but the woman had onlybeen there for about a week…. So I’m pretty certain…..””And now you’re back here. Well done. Now get to bed.”He looked almost relieved, and I’m still not sure he likes suckingcock. But as he went out I could enjoy his body and those lovely buttocksas he went to his own small room. Almost the only problem with myapartment is that whilst the walls everywhere else are really thick andmade of poured concrete so no sound gets through, the partition between mybedroom and the slave room is tiny – I suspect it was added as anafter-though. So as I lay there I could hear Greg get into bed, and thenthat heavy breathing, the rustling of the bed cover, the slap of flesh onflesh, and finally a deep sigh as Greg wanked himself to climax. Still, Ididn’t really mind – it must have been tough today for him, especiallyseeing all those women.The next day was pretty much routine – I had some staff meetings and alunch with an important client. I could not focus completely on what I wasdoing as part of my brain was planning the activities that night.As he’d been instructed to, Greg was out shadowing Jason, and it wasn’tuntil about 21:30 that he finally managed to find a phone to call me andtell me that Jason was home for the night, without a woman. It really is anuisance having that prohibition on slaves not being allowed mobile phones,especially as all the call boxes have disappeared from London as they saidthey were uneconomic. I have been accosted by slaves sometimes begging tobe allowed to call their owners, and I guess Greg must have done the same.We met at Alex’s apartment block and I buzzed to be let in. As he openedhis door Alex looked genuinely surprised to see me – as he should be -alarmed, almost.”Good evening, sir…”” He stuttered. “I wasn’t expecting visitors… Comeon in….”The apartment was simply but expensively furnished in the modern minimaliststyle. I took off my coat, and sat down. “A drink…?” He asked, stilllooking confused. He’d changed in to jeans and I saw with interest thateven by himself he had on a long-sleeved casual shirt covering his wrists.I shook my head to decline his offer of a drink – I don’t drink withslaves! “When we met earlier in the week our mutual acquaintance – yourdirector, I suppose I should say, and my old colleague – sang your praisesgenerally and especially about the work you’d done in identifying anddriving through the deal….”He seemed to relax. “Yes, indeed, sir….””It was an excellent piece of work and I wanted to come and congratulateyou on it personally..” As I said this, I stretched out my hand as if tomake a handshake, and I guess by reflex Jason did the same. As I shook hishand I grabbed his forearm with my other hand and yanked his sleeveupwards. There were those telltale tattoos.It was as if time stood still. Jason looked at them, looked at me lookingat them, and finally stammered “A bit stupid, really, a joke at the ruggerclub that went a bit too far….”I said nothing, but let go of his hand and took out my phone. I’d alreadyset it up to access the public the slave register database so all I had todo was snap the numbers and press send. With the excellent mobile servicewe all now enjoy it can’t have been more than a couple of seconds beforethe screen showed me the information.”So, Jason Allbright”, I read out. “Enslaved shortly after his 18thbirthday. Nothing serious, I suppose – no v******e, but some girl tookexception to you fooling around with her. Pretty good school record, aboutto go up to Cambridge…. But sold at the central London slave auctionrooms instead….. Reported absconded by his owner after only sixmonths…. Then no reported sightings for six years. And all thisinformation from a number tattooed on Jason Wicks, financial whiz-k**…. Apretty bright guy by all accounts, breezing through all the financial examsas he should have, if he would have been good enough to go to Cambridge…””No, it’s not me…””Don’t be stupid! Of course it is. There’s even a picture here….””That must be an old picture, taken years ago. It’s not like me….””Strip off. There’s a full body image of this Jason Allbright that I cancompare with you.””No way…”I motioned to Greg, who with that economical way of moving he has grabbedJason. He fought, briefly – and even though he was very fit and spent alot of time at the gym he hadn’t had the combat experience Greg had. And,as the old saying goes, youth and enthusiasm is no match for old age andexperience. Very quickly Greg held him in one of those choke holds, Isuppose you’d call them. I stepped forward and ripped open Jason’s shirt,the buttons flying across the floor – I’ve never actually done that beforeand always thought it’s a bit of a cliché, but it was strangelysatisfying. He did indeed have nice big dark aureoles contrasting nicelywith his tanned skin.He spat at me! I suppose it’s the only thing he could do as Greg held himimmobile. And I was surprised at my reaction, as I’m not a physicallyviolent man normally: I slapped him hard, very hard, very hard indeed,across his face. His head slumped to one side, and there was a satisfyingtrickle of blood from his nose.As he slumped there in Greg’s hold I reached down and undid his belt andfly, and pushed his trousers down to below his knees. My cock twitched asI saw I’d been right in my assumption that a man like his would not wearrestricting boxers, but low-slung looser trunks, not unlike slave shorts.”So, the big reveal…”, I muttered, and yanked the trunks down too.I then held the phone u to his face. “No doubt about it, I think! Thatlong cock held high on top of your balls is a dead give-away. You areindeed the `missing’ slave, Jason Allbright.””NO!….!”Listen Jason, and listen carefully. All I have to do is press this buttonon the `missing slave’ page and the SP – the slave police – will be here inmoments. And I suppose you know he penalty for slaves who abscond….?”He stood there, motionless, and silent. Kind of insolently silent, Ithink.”You’re quite a man for the ladies, I’m told. No more of that, ofcourse. They don’t want any risk of some foolish owner breeding defianceinto slaves, so those balls will go. They say it `calms’ slaves. And thena nice job where there’s no possibility of escape. Down the mines? Iunderstand they’re opening up all the deep Yorkshire pits again as theeconomics change – energy prices going higher and higher, and labour costsgoing down and down because of slaves…. I’m told they put you down thepit and you never come up again. The slaves have to `buy’ their food inexchange for the coal that goes up to the surface. Doesn’t sound much fun,does it, Jason?”He shook his head. “Well I understand you like deals, so here’s mine: youwill become my slave, rather than a runaway.””…And?””No `and’. You will become my slave. Full stop. I suppose in return Iwon’t report you to the authorities, so you’ll get to keep your balls. Andworking for me is better than mining…”He glared at me, but I could tell from his body language that he wasdefeated. I gestured at Greg to let him go, and he reached down to pull uphis underwear.”No! Strip completely. I want a proper inspection of my new property.”Greg and I stood there and watched as slowly and almost wearily he slippedoff his shoes, then stepped out of his jeans and underwear on the floor,and fumbled to remove the remains of his shirt.”Pretty good, isn’t he, Greg? Makes a nice contrast with you! He’s a bittaller than you, but you’re more `solid’. Nice long legs, though. And agood cock – I like the way it sits high like that, makes him look half-hardall the time, whereas your balls are low-slung. And you’re very hairy, anddark – and he’s blond, and not all that much body hair…. Except aroundhis pubes. I expect he flashes them around in his gym to show he’s a freeman… Or should I say `flashed’, as there’ll be no more free man’s gym forhim!”Greg nodded, but said nothing. He understands my ways.”I think we ought to have you look more like a slave, Jason. Go to thebathroom and trim those pubes and shave your balls…. Like a slave…””No fucking way…”, he began, but I nodded at Jason who knew this mighthappen as we had discussed. He grabbed Jason, pulled him over, sat down,threw Jason across his knees and began to slap his buttocks, hard. And Iguess “hard” for someone with the power and strength of Greg is “veryhard”. Jason struggled, but Greg had his neck in a vicelike grip and hecouldn’t get free. Soon Jason was wailing, then sobbing, whether from thepain, or the humiliation, or both, I don’t know and I don’t much care. I’mnot a violent man as I said, but slaves do need to understand theconsequences of failing to obey.After a time I signalled to Greg to stop, and he dumped Jason off his kneesonto the floor, where he lay sobbing.”Now, into the bathroom. That trim and shave. And do your ass whilstyou’re about it. And you’d better go and help him, Greg – it will bequicker if you shave his ass until he gets used to doing it.”I caught up on the movements in the markets as the two slaves went off, andI heard a few muffled shouts and cries as I assume Greg made Jason behave.Then they appeared before me again, with Greg having a faint smile on hisface.”There, Jason. What a difference that makes, doesn’t it? They do say allyou have to do to turn a free man into a slave is strip him, spank him, andshave him…. And fuck him, or course.”Greg was now grinning as I said the last few words. But I continued “Ithink we’ll save the last step until later. Now, let’s have your keys, andwe’ll go off to your new home. You won’t need any of the stuff here asI’ll probably have you dress like Greg, so we can get the place cleared outlater.”I moved towards the door, and Greg pushed at him to follow me. Jason bentdown to pick up his jeans.”No, stay naked. You’ve been masquerading as a free man long enough, sonow’s a good time to make up for it.””Please….”, he almost whimpered. I stood close to him and ruffled thatartfully cut hair of his – no more of that, I thought, I’d probably havehim cropped like Greg. He flinched under my fingers. “Slaves go nakedunless their owners want otherwise.”Greg coughed respectfully. “Sir, the new ordinance… No naked slaves onthe tube…””Thank you, Greg. I’d forgotten. And I don’t want to fall foul of theslave regulations at this point.”I pushed the button on my phone to summon a minicab, and we were soon allheading back to Westminster. The driver was a free man and keptcongratulating me on having such fine slaves, and wishing he could own one.Annoying, really. Next time I must make sure I specify a slave driver asthey can be ordered to be silent.When we got back to our building I paid the driver cash – a really rarething for me, but I judged it prudent not to have too many electronicrecords of my visit to Jason. Greg and Jason had to take the slaveelevator of course and so I was in the apartment before them. Had I thoughtabout it I should have ordered them to take the stairs – Greg sometimesdoes anyway to really work out his legs and lungs as we are so high, and itwould have been good to see what kind of state Jason was in after a forcedexercise like that – I suspected his gym-toned muscles would not be innearly such good condition as Greg’s more “street hardened” ones were. Andhe would be totally exhausted even though he was almost 15 years youngerthan Greg: it might make him think about what “old” means!As they came through the door it was sort of touching and yet amusing tosee how Jason was cupping his cock and balls in his hands – it makes for areally awkward, some would say funny, posture I always think. And it was sostupid, as he has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of as most men wouldenvy his tackle.”So, stripped, spanked, clipped…. We know what’s next, don’t we, Jason?The thing that really turns a free man in to a slave, even though of courseyou are a slave anyway?””You don’t fuck me…”Greg hit him. Not hard. Just a hefty slap across the face. I think it wasmore the shock than the power that sent Jason reeling. It was good to seehim looking out for my interests, I suppose.”You address his as `Sir’. Always. Understand? And you never tell himwhat do. You’re a fucking slave, boy, and if he wants to fuck you, hewill.””Thank you, Greg. He’s right, Jason. But I think I’ll postpone the finalstep as it’s been rather an exciting day already. Although perhaps alittle entertainment might amuse me…. Greg, you fuck him.”I laughed inwardly as I saw Greg flinch. I’ve told you he still thinks ofhimself as “straight”, and although he has now reconciled himself tosucking my cock, that’s as far as it goes. I had fucked him when I firstbought him, but not after that, and there had never been any suggestionthat he showed any interest in any of the other male slaves in thebuilding. It would be interesting to see how he got out of this,considering he’d just slapped Jason to remind him that I had to be obeyed.”Uh, sir… Uh, these free men… They play around, sir. Perhaps heshould be tested first? He may have a disease… We know he’s had lots ofwomen, that one yesterday, sir, he must have fucked her and…. And thenthe expense, sir, if you had to have both of us treated for something… Imean, Jason’s not on your insurance policy yet, is he, sir?”Well done, I thought. Appealing to my concerns about money. Although I’vegot lots and lots, I never waste any!”You’re right, Greg. Thank you. I can watch you fuck him when he’s beento the doctor. But I do need a little entertainment, I suppose…. Shuckoff your clothes so I can take a closer look at you together.”He’d almost breathed a sigh of relief when I’d started saying that, butbegan to look worried at the end. I wonder what he thought I had inmind. – as I’ve said, he sucks my cock, but I did wonder if he would suckJason’s. It would be interesting to find out, but perhaps not now.The two of them stood there looking at me, Jason still half-covering hiscock, but Greg standing normally – he wasn’t naked much around the house asI’ve said, but he isn’t ashamed of his body and I do see if every day asyou know.”I’m not sure which of you is the taller. Stand back to back so I cansee.”The two men shuffled a little closer together and stood there silently.”No, it’s no good. You need to be closer. Push your buttocks andshoulders together so I can get a proper comparison…”They did so, and I felt my own cock start to stiffen as I thought about howit feels to have your skin pressing close to another man. And with yourshoulders and bottom pressed hard against each other… You’d feel thewarmth, the sweat… I left them standing there for a minute or so – itwasn’t necessary at all really as Jason is clearly the taller by an inch orso, but to compensate, Greg is generally thicker and more muscular. Butmaking them stand close like that was somehow exciting.”Good. Now which of you has the longer cock, I wonder? Stand closetogether and measure your cocks against each other.”If I’d wanted to start forging a bond between the slaves I couldn’t havedone better. Jason’s look was pure hatred, and I’m not sure whether Greg’swas outrage, or sadness, or resignation. But clearly they were both pissedoff. But they obeyed, turned and shuffled forward, and it really wasamusing to see them jockeying around each other, knowing they had to touchbut doing everything they could to try and make it as little aspossible. It was as if there was almost a cigarette paper’s thickness thatshould be kept between them. They’d even put a hand on each other’sshoulders to steady themselves, or was it to try to maintain a distancebetween them?”No, no. It’s not working. Your cock hangs down, Greg, and Jason’s looksas if it’s half erect, stuck on top of his balls like that. I’ll have tosettle with judging them when you’re erect, as that evens things out. Soget hard, both of you”.I think Jason would have defied me had he not been afraid f a further slapfrom Greg. And certainly Greg wanted to disobey – it’s not as if I haven’tseen his erect cock many, many times of course, but he clearly didn’t likeit in the presence of Jason. But he did as I had ordered, and he startedto stroke himself. And then, slowly, and very, very hesitantly, Jasonreached down for his cock too and began to masturbate too.When both of them were erect – it had been a bit of an effort, I think, asit had taken some time and they were both breathing hard – I told them tostand facing each other and then to move forward until the tip of one cocktouched the belly of the other man – the one to touch first would be thelonger.They shuffled forward again, and once more had a hand on each other’sshoulder – now a bit sweaty, I observed.”No, it isn’t working. You’re flopping around too much. Greg, get a grip- wrap your hand around both of your cocks…”Once more that look of near defiance, frustration, anger almost. But hedid as he was told. It was interesting to see that both men were now very,very stiff. And there was the merest shimmer of a drop of something on theend of Greg’s cock… Surely not pre-cum? I noted it, but decided not tosay anything… yet. My own cock was really straining now as I looked atthe two men, both such delightful specimens of manhood, and both doingsomething they didn’t want to, so showing my control over them. I couldalmost imagine the feeling of a hot cock pressed against another, and howthe tip would tingle as it brushed the other’s pubes. And their noses wouldbe full of the scent of each other, that special scent of sweat from thegenitals, so much more pungent than the rest of the sweat that was comingoff them. I was almost tempted to throw off my own clothes and join them -and shivered a little with excitement as I imagined how we’d stand in atriangle, arms around each other’s shudders, and cocks bobbing up and downas we manoeuvred, feeling the sweat rolling down from our armpits in thoselittle cold rivulets as it does. But then my good sense got the better ofme – I needed to maintain control here.”OK, that’s enough”. Both men backed away from each other as I spoke.”Jason’s the longer, as I suppose I ought to expect as he’s taller andthinner. But Greg’s is the thicker. But both well above average, Ireckon. And they make a nice contrast”.I was toying with the idea of having them masturbate for me – possiblywanking each other – and comparing their cum loads. But then I thoughtthat would be tough on Greg, and unfair. After all, as I knew myself, thevolume of your cum goes down as you get older. And even though that’s afact and we all know it, probably Greg would not really accept that it wasonly natural that he hadn’t performed as well as Jason would. Perhaps I’dput him through enough today.”Right, bedtime, I think.””Where’s Jason sleeping, sir?””In the slave bedroom of course, Greg.””But I’m in there….””Yes. You’re both in there.”I knew what he wanted to say. That it was only just big enough forhim. That they’d be too close together.”It’s not very big, sir.””Big enough. You’re always telling me about those marine patrols of yours,how you buddied up to your mate in a small tent…. Pretend you’re stillfree and back out on manoeuvres.”They could see there was no point in arguing with me, so that was that.I got a lot of pleasure that evening though as I lay in my bed listening tothe muffled bumping noises and moans and cries through the wall of theslave room – as far as I could make out Jason did not want to get into thebed and Greg insisted he did as I had ordered it. My cock was ramrod hardas I thought of the two men lying there naked pressed so tightly together -not that they would be having sex as Greg clearly did not want to, butsimply the thought of how they would undoubtedly have erections and in thatsmall space there’s no way they could avoid each other. Usually I haveGreg suck me off as you know, but that night it was a real pleasure tostroke myself to orgasm as I speculated on what was happening next door.Evidently they’d worked something our as it was OK the next morning andthey seemed to be getting on together, and I saw that Greg had evidentlygiven one of his sets of shorts and a T to Jason to wear. Jason’s legs,which had first caught my attention on the tube, looked even longer andmore desirable in the very short shorts.”So today…. Greg, business as usual for you. Get some exercise, do thechores. And keep an eye on Jason, a close eye! He’s not to leave theflat, not at all, not for any reason at all. Is that clear?”I liked the way I had subtly given control over Jason to Greg, who promptlysaid “Yes, sir.””But I want Jason worked too – he can’t go out running, but both of you canwork out in here. I’ll expect to see you both exhausted tonight.””Yes, sir” again from Greg.”I could go to the gym…” Jason started.”You heard me, Jason You are not to go out. You absconded once, and untilI have put some measures in place, I do not want to risk you doing soagain. Greg will guard you.””Sir, please…” Jason continued, in spite of the dangerously angry lookshe was starting to get fro Greg. “Please, couldn’t I go back to work? Wecould go back to my apartment, I could dress, I…..””Certainly not! Slaves are not allowed to work in financial services, it’sagainst the law. You cannot sign all the declarations and bonds needed toallow you to trade – slaves are not legally free men and so cannot enter into agreements.””George didn’t mind. I’m great at my job, and he was happy to….””You mean he knew you were not a free man?””He noticed my SIN tattoo one day soon after I’d started there, just as youdid, but he wanted work out of me…”Well this was new information. Information that would potentially be veryuseful to me in my next dealings with George. Allowing a slave to continuepassing – personification I suppose we ought to call it to give it its realname to avoid that stupid Americanism for death – was a serious crime,possibly enough to get George enslaved. But certainly enough to cause ahuge scandal and do harm to his business, that he’d certainly want toavoid. I suppose I was in a bit of a similar position, knowing of thepersonification, but there was absolutely no way I was going to make itworse.”Well I will not let you return to the office. And you need to learn thatwhen I say no, I mean it. I’m in a good mood this morning though and so Iam not going to tell Greg to punish you. But whilst you’re here as my slaveyou will listen carefully to what I say, never argue with me, nevercontradict me…””I’m not your slave…”I nodded to Greg, and he slapped Jason’s face, hard – hard enough, as hehad yesterday, to send Jason reeling. “You were told never to contradictyour owner”, Greg snapped, and there was a look of almost pure hate onJason’s face. I wondered if he was going to spring up and attack Greg, butas he saw Greg’s powerful body standing half over him, he thought better ofit. Smart lad!I left then and on my walk to the tube, on the tube, and walking to theoffice I thought about the situation. I was thrilled to have “captured”Jason as a slave. It’s not the money – I could go to the Canary Wharfbranch of Scabbard & Drass and buy a young slave with his good looks andsexy body any time I wanted to. No, it was the “thrill of the chase”, andknowing that I had this slave because of my own actions. My cock wasstiff, and I could begin to appreciate how k**nappers feel when they takesomeone from the streets against their will. But, equally, I am somewhatcautious and began to think about the consequences: I was harbouring anescaped slave, and it might also be seen that by not reporting itimmediately I was complicit in George’s crime of allowing thepersonification, something that could get us both disbarred from working inthe financial industry (and possibly put in jail, or even enslaved!) Ineeded to regularise the situation somehow, but releasing Jason now, orturning him in to the authorities, wouldn’t be enough – it could be arguedthat too much time had passed. And Jason was angry and would certainlyconcoct some story to make my involvement appear even worse!Even though I am always very early to arrive at the office – something youwould imagine my staff would have noticed and emulated – as usual it wasonly my PA who was there. That’s good, though, as I like to “go throughthings” with him before the others start to appear so that I am properlyinformed of what’s going on, something my staff seem constantly surprisedabout, but which contributes massively to my reputation as a very skilledoperator indeed.”Morning, sir”, Sam said in his usual cheery way. He’s one of those menwho never seems worried and is always cheerful, almost irritatingly so onsome occasions. He almost seems to worship me as he’s so grateful to mefor having taken him on. Jobs are hard to come by at the top end of oursector, as we are, and I know he hopes that having “got in” one day he’llbe allowed to move on and be one of the dealers or traders. Not a hope ofthis, of course, as he’s too valuable to me as my PA! I did admire him andactually like him, as much as a man in my position can admire and like avery junior employee. He’d shown a huge amount of initiative in trying toget to see me to ask for work, constantly pestering my old PA, who ofcourse would never put his calls through, and who filtered out his e-mailsto me before I reviewed my inbox. So he then took to sitting in receptionfor several days so that I saw him there as I went in, went out to lunch orto business meetings, or left for home in the evenings. My PA said thebuilding management was complaining, and she smiled as she said “Silly boy,he doesn’t know what he’d be letting himself in for, working for you…”We had a good relationship and she could say things like that as I knew(or, anyway, thought) that she was making a joke. “So how does he knowyou’re leaving, anyway?””Oh Sam knows everything! He’s my sister’s current husband’s son, and he’salways asking questions. And he’s a nice lad, too – a real hard worker, mysister says. Down on his luck a bit – some slight trouble with the policein his late teens, but not enough to get him jailed or enslaved – to dowith some girl or other, as he’s a real sex bomb, or likes to think he is.So they wouldn’t have him in any university – he’s really bright and hadall the right qualifications from school, but with even a suggestion of asex thing he couldn’t be allowed on campus: you know how those womenstudents unions are these days, no university will risk offending them bygiving a lad like Sam a place. So he’s stuck in dean-end jobs, the kindwhere he’s basically filling-in for slaves when they’re sick or something.:filling shelves in Tesco, working on delivery trucks, even some labouringon building sites, although he’s not all that strong physically….” Shepaused and smiled again “…even though he’s got a nicely muscled body, helacks the power, being so slight. Still, I can see why the girls likehim…”I’d almost had enough of this chatter as we had things to do, but I said”Well he doesn’t sound as if he’d be a good PA even so. Labouring jobs…””Well I don’t know. He works hard, as I said. And he’s very reliable. Andclever, too. And he’s worked away at night taking free classes at someinstitute or other to learn spreadsheets and things – when I have a problemwith some of the really complex stuff you ask me to do, it’s Sam I call asI can’t ask anyone here as so much of what you do is confidential and notto be shown to them.” She paused again, and looked at me hard and went on”And there’s something else you need to think about…. Your reputation!””What?””Well you’re not exactly know for hiring the racially different, are you?Look around the office at all those white faces…””I’m not racist! It’s just that our clients like to negotiate with peoplelike themselves, and I’m doing the best for the business.””Yes, sir. But it’s the statistics, isn’t it? We don’t look good when allthose annual surveys get done”.”I don’t see how using this Sam as my PA would help…””Oh but it would. You’d shoot up the tables for employing someone withouta degree in a job traditionally thought of as requiring one. And thenthere’s the PWT number as we call it – I’ve forgotten what it reallymeans.””PWT index?””Well we think of it as meaning Poor White Trash. The racially differentget quotas and so on for jobs, but now they’ve realised that some whitelads are being left behind, so they’re starting to measure it… You couldbe a trend-setter.”I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me. We’ve worked together for five yearsever since I started rising up the higher management ladder, She’s reallyexcellent at her job, and has made a huge difference in helping me rise.And, to be fair, I’ve done the right thing by her – she’s on the bonusscheme sharing in the annual bonus pool with the traders and dealers andcertainly makes much more a year than anyone else not a “professional”. AndI heartily wish she wasn’t leaving, but she married one of the traders acouple of months ago and is pregnant and wants to give up work to lookafter the k** full time. It’s for the best, I suppose, as I’d have had toget rid of her husband who’s really good as I couldn’t have them bothworking in the same office.”Hmmm… Well I’m not sure I want to be leading from the front…””You’re forgetting how hard it is to get a new PA to understand things…With Sam I’d be happy always to pick up the phone if he called and askedthings – and you know how much stuff doesn’t go into the official files.”I was in a good mood that morning and but anxious to get on with the day,and she had made a very good point. So I told her to fit him in to my daysomehow for an interview, and this turned out to be impossible, so she toldme Sam would walk with me to the tube when I left so I could at least see abit of what he was like.As it so happens it was one of those days when we had a bit of a crisis andI wasn’t away until 21:45 – I’d forgotten all about Sam, but there he was,still in reception and as I came out of the executive lift he bounded over,smiling. He still does, that, actually – he’s a bit like an excited puppyalways bounding around, always smiling – I don’t know where he gets theenergy. “Sir, thank you for seeing me….””Not now. I’m tired. And hungry – I got no lunch. Come back tomorrow.””Sir, you’ve got to walk to the tube, can I walk with you? Or shall I callyou a cab, I’ve got the app on my phone. And I could ride with you Or ifyou’re hungry, I know a pub that does great food, and it’s on your way…”He was, and remains, incredibly persistent. He won’t take “no” for ananswer, and that’s really important for a PA of mine. And I could tellwhat my PA might have meant when she said “see more of him” – as seems tobe his normal dress, his suit trousers are incredibly tight and are slunglow under his hip bones, so they emphasise his tight little bum and showhis quite large package off. I couldn’t help speculating, as I still do,whether he’s `skinned or not – there’s no possibility of me asking, or offinding out by seeing, of course as that would be very improper. He alsowears his shirts very tight – and as they’re cheap ones from the chainstores and rather thin, I could see the outline of his nipples and, wherethe buttons were strained apart, glimpses of his smooth, hairless chest.And whilst I was seeing those things he’s k** of fallen into step beside meas we crossed the lobby.As we walked to the tube he chattered away almost non-stop about why Ishould take him on. Interestingly, he did the thing I always do withclients and didn’t say what he’d got by way of qualifications orexperience, but focused on what he saw my needs were and how he, Sam, wasideally placed to satisfy them! I couldn’t help but be amused a little andas we got to the tube he kind of naturally followed me through the barrierand carried on talking at me on the escalator. And as the train sighed toa halt I could see there was no way of getting rid of him other than to say”Come and see me tomorrow”.And he was there in the morning when I arrived, and he’s been here eversince, over two years now. And he works ferociously hard, guards my diaryand time, gets even the hardest tasks I delegate to him done, and, perhapsbest of all, he seems to know everything and every one! People seem tonaturally like him and talk to him and tell him things they probablyshouldn’t, so he’s a great early warning system for me. And if I ever needsomething done, he “knows just the man”. He’s still good to look at, too -some of the other men in the office soon had a word with him about cheapsuits and chain store ties, and even though he probably can’t afford it asthey can, he’s now the very essence of a business man in his Hugo Boss suitand Jermyn Street shirts – although, gratifyingly, they’re all tailored tobe tight as he wore when I first saw him. He must work out too, as he’sdelightful to watch as he moves about, but it’s of course “watch, don’ttouch” for me. He’s also clever enough not to date any of the women in myoffice even though he tells me they’re all begging for his body and he getslots of offers, but most Monday mornings and some during the week too he’sparticularly happy and if pressed he’ll tell me about his latest “conquest”the night before. I sometimes daydream of finding some way of getting himenslaved, then of buying him, stripping him and using his tight little bumas it ought to be used, and having his cock spurt for me, not somesex-starved bitch.Anyway, to get on with the narrative. As he bought my coffee in (in spiteof the fire regulations that mean everyone else has to take coffee from thedreadful vending machines Sam has somehow managed to get an expressomachine for my use) I said casually “You always now everyone, Sam, and Ineed some specialist advice…”He nodded, eagerly, and I went on “I want to talk about slaves…”That stopped him. He looked a bit shocked. “Greg giving you trouble, sit?Surely not….” He’s been to my place several times to deliver things, andso knows I own a slave, and, I suspect, when I’ve been away on trips andI’ve told him to call around to take Greg for his mandatory annualcheck-ups and things like that where the slave has to be accompanied by afree man, he’s pumped Greg for information about me.”No, not at all. But a friend of mine thinks he many have inadvertentlyfallen foul of some of the slave owning laws and needs advice.””Lots of lawyers here, sit, there’s a newly-qualified one on the thirtiethfloor I know a bit, she’d be best as she’ll still have some idea aboutit. Not a lot of call for slave law amongst the more experienced guys…””No, absolutely not. It is most inappropriate to mix business and personalmatters.”He nodded, said quietly “Leave it with me, sir”, and we got on withcatching up with the overnight things.As I worked away during the morning with my meetings I could see himthrough the wall of my office making calls – far more than usual – and atlunchtime he came in to collect things to do from me, then said discretely”That matter you mentioned to me this morning, sir. I think you need to seea slave dealer…””Certainly not! When I bought Greg I was not impressed with those salesmenat Scabbard & Drass. Smooth-talking idiots! They almost lost the sale bybeing too superior.””No, not them, sir. I thought you’d probably need someone at the rather,rather well, rather rougher end of the trade, sir. One of my cousins knowsjust the man, and I’ve tracked him down, and taken the liberty of making anappointment for you to meet him, sir, as tomorrow’s Saturday and there’s nosocial engagement in your diary. He’s only out at Leyton…””Get him to come to me, I’ve no time to be all over London…””I tried that, sir. But he said he’s too busy. And that anyway he thoughtthat most of his clients liked to take a good look `behind thescenes’. He’s not exactly a dealer, although he does sell some slaves, hesays. He describes himself as a `problem resolution specialist’ – he musthave been working here, with all the fancy job titles – but I reckon`fixer’ is more accurate. He sounds a nice bloke, sir, we had a bit of alaugh. He sounds as if he’d be a good person to know. And if you want,I’ll get my cousin to be there…””I’m perfectly well able to take care of myself. So thank you, no. But Idon’t want to go all over the place…””It’s only Leyton, sir. Just carry on as if you were coming to work on thetube, but go on to Stratford. Then it’s only one stop on the Central. Mindyou, he’s not exactly on the High Street where Scabbard & Drass and some ofthe other dealers are – it’s quite a centre for slaves, sir – but not morethan ten minutes from the station. And you could take Greg with you, sir,he’s enough to stop any stupid little tykes causing you any bother…”This was turning into another of those persistent conversations from Sam,but it did sound a bit daring and somehow exciting… A `fixer’, `behindthe scenes’, Greg to scare people away in the streets: we’re in London, andthere’s nowhere I don’t go, by myself…. And Saturday mornings can beboring. So I said “OK, what time?””He wouldn’t give a time, sir. He said for you just to turn up, and if hewas busy `correcting a slave problem’ you could wait, or go in andwatch….”As I was walking to the tube that evening I was thinking about Greg andJason and how I was going to differentiate them. Fortunately there’s aslave accessories shop in one of the malls at Canary Wharf so I divertedslightly and went in and made a purchase before continuing home.Back in the apartment there was an air of simmering resentment between thetwo of them, and I suspected there had been rows, perhaps even blows,during the day. Jason was dressed like Greg in Greg’s shorts and a T andthe white material did, I have to say, set off his rich tan and bleachedblond arm and leg hair really rather agreeably. But I am used to findingmy way through the kind of “office politics” that obsesses so many men,especially those who are masculine and virile like Jason and Greg and ofwhom there are many in my office, and I know it’s best to act sooner orlater.I tossed the package at Jason and told him to open it and dress. He toreat it eagerly, half-smirking at Greg as if to show him that he was now inmy favour. He stripped off the T and pulled on what I’d bought – inEnglish we’d refer to it as a singlet, a T without arms, with the armholeslying low under the pits, and cut relatively low at the front so the upperchest is exposed. And I’d deliberately chosen one that was very loose andnot tight fitting. He stood there then, flexing his arm muscles in prideand smirking at Greg again.”Finish, then”, I snapped. He looked at me in surprise, but before hecould say anything I continued “That’s your uniform around the house. Nowget out of those shorts and return them to Greg.”He was about to say something, to complain I suppose, but saw Greg’s wholebody tense rather menacingly. He eased the shorts down, slowly, tugging atthe hem of the singlet to make it go down as far as it would. But I waspleased to see that my estimate in the store had been correct and thathowever hard he tried it was so short that it finished just a little abovethe end of his cock. He looked at me as if he wanted to ask me not to makehim wear it. Then stuttered “Please, sir, don’t make me wear this….””You’ve no need of shorts, Jason, if that’s what you mean. And I suppose Icould let you çanakkale escort go around the place totally naked, but I rather like myslaves to wear something, and that makes you look rather good – I like theway the white contrasts with your tan. So that is what you will wear fromnow on.”I could see Greg wanted to say something and half nodded to give himpermission. “Without shorts he might dirty the furniture, sir. These youngguys are too quick sometimes and don’t wipe themselves properly…””Quite right! Thank you, Greg. Jason, you will in future not sit on thefurniture, or on the silk rug. When you are not standing you will sit onlyon the bare wood of the floor.”He went to say something but once again saw Greg’s body tense, ready tostrike, and sullenly he hung his head. I felt rather sorry for him Isuppose, but I was pleased that I had certainly established a proper”pecking order” between my slaves by this differentiation. And actually hedid look really sensual as when he moved more of his cock was fleetinglyexposed, and at the back the thing had a tendency to ride up to bunch ontop of his buttocks, so adding emphasis to them.I didn’t share my dinner with either of them later, but did allow Greg tosit at the table with me as usual but made Jason squat on the floor. And Ifelt rather pleased with myself at how well things were going. Before bedI told Greg to search out the lockable collar and chain that I had beenpersuaded to buy by the dealer when I’d bought him, but which I do not use,and which had never disposed of.Next morning, Saturday, it had turned cold and there was the usual Londongrey sky making it seem far worse. I told Greg that the T and shorts werenot sufficient as were going out and it might anyway rain, and he quicklystripped and pulled on “slave jeans” as they are called (very cheap, rathercoarse, without any of the fancy stitching and so on you find on “proper”jeans – only slaves now appear in jeans like this), and a fleece top. Inspite of his protests I then had Jason collared and chained to the slavetethering point in the floor, with which all expensive apartments are nowfitted. It has the advantage that the slave can get to the lavatory andcan drink from a tap, but cannot reach the telephone or any of the controlsfor the entertainment system. I told Jason it would be good for him towait patiently for me to return without anything at all to do other than tothink about his life now. All I then had to do was to tell Greg to kneelso I could clip a transport token onto his collar, and we were off.It was quite interesting I suppose to continue past Canary Wharf on thetube to Stratford, as Canary Wharf is the furthest East I normally go . Butonce there it was grossly oppressively overcrowded in the passageway to theCentral Line (as I have since learned it is every Saturday morning sincethe huge shopping centre opened just before the Olympics). Greg did hisbest to make it easy for me in the throngs but it’s difficult for him as aslave – he’s big enough and strong enough to shoulder a way through, but hehas to remember that any one of those free men and women could make acomplaint against him as he’s a slave (and I noticed that he’d pulled thezipper on his fleece up really high, to try to hide his collar).On the Central it was OK as I suppose most people were travelling in toStratford at that time, rather than out. But when we climbed the steps upto the road at Lepton Station I was not at all impressed. In the early partof the century the continuing rise in London property prices would havepushed “gentrification” out this far easily, and the rows of Victorian andEdwardian workers’ houses would have been improved, modified, enhanced andextended, and the whole area ultimately would have become a middle-classplace with the shopping street lined with clothes boutiques, fancydelicatessens, organic greengrocers, coffee shops, and so on. It hadevidently suffered badly in the “great crash” though, when so many peoplecould no longer afford the enormous mortgages to buy in places likethis. Many of them would have been enslaved for debt, and those that didsurvive would have found it possible to move back into more fashionableparts of the capital.So now it had a distinctly “seedy” air, and had become one of those areasknown for slave dealing. There was a Scabbard & Drass “outlet” (not theproper luxury showrooms) opposite the station where I suppose there mightonce have been a small shopping mall, and the rest of the high streetappeared to be given over to slave outfitters, sellers of restraintdevices, “fancy dress” purveyors for slaves (really rather coarse and inbad taste), bulk slave chow suppliers offering rock-bottom prices forslightly out-of-date material, a couple of places offering punishmentservices, and no less than three sex shops with their windows blacked outbut with signs offering the use of slaves by the half-hour, hour or halfday in every possible combination of single and multiple males and females:really quite disgraceful, but even at that time in the morning there weremen (and the occasional woman!) going in. I couldn’t imagine how it mustfeel to use a slave sexually in such places, but perhaps some people findsit adds to the excitement. Or perhaps it’s all they can afford.My communicator was telling me that our destination was an eight minutewalk away from the High Street and so we set off, Greg now respectfully astep behind me but ever watchful. “I wouldn`t be surprised if there weresome nasty folk around places like this, sir…”, and perhaps he was right:as we passed one of the sex places a “barker” outside made it difficult forme to pass as he tried to persuade me to enter.”You and your mate, just pay for one and you can both come in as it’smorning” he was saying as he blocked my path. I really was rather shocked- not about being offered the services of the sex shop, but because the manclearly thought that I, smartly dressed in my leather overcoat, my hairstylishly cut, would have sex with a brutish-looking guy like Greg in hischeap fleece and jeans! But then I suppose some men do go for “roughtypes”, and older men, too, so perhaps it was understandable. And he wasonly doing his job.When we finally turned the last corner and saw our destination it wasobvious that it had once been a small builder’s yard or something, and thathad been rather inelegantly converted into what looked like two or threebuildings. There was a big sign outside, in those kind of supposedly “fun”characters in all different bright colours saying “Dave’s Slaves” whichdidn’t add much to the general style of the place. But as we’d come thisfar and as I did have something that needed doing, we went in.The “waiting room” was a tiny space with a couple of old chairs in it and asmall counter behind which was clearly a slave – she was black, very black,probably only about twenty years old, wearing very, very low cut briefslave shorts. She was in very good condition, she must work out I thought,as her bare breasts were held high and showed no signs of sagging at all.Greg made some sort of appreciative sound.”I’m here to see Mr Challenor. My PA made an appointment…””He don’t do appointments.” Her speech was uneducated. “Sit down and I’lltry and get him”. With that she turned and went out of a door behind thedesk, literally waggling her ass at us as she did so! Greg made that soundagain – I’m not a good judge of females, probably because I’m notinterested in them, but evidently Greg, who is interested, found her morethan satisfactory.We waited for some minutes as I sat and leafed my way through months-oldcopies of “The Slave Owner”, and Greg of course stood. I amused myself bylooking out beyond the magazine to see if those cheap jeans were concealingan erection. I’d decided they probably did, when the door behind thecounter burst open and a big man came through.”Dave Challenor”, he said, holding out his (rather dirty) hand. “You mustbe the gent who had Sammy call me yesterday. So what can I do for youthen?”I shook his hand – he pressed mine hard – and I felt myself almostinstantly liking him. He was about the same age as me, I guessed, and inpretty good shape, as am I, too. He had an unruly mass of dark blond hairwhich his shirt, open too far down his chest, revealed was also on hisbody. His jeans, tucked in to stout working boots and rather grubby,seemed to show an impressive bulge. This was the kind of rough type thatthe man outside the sex shop earlier obviously thought Greg was, and inspite of what I said earlier about rough types, there was a distinctive”magnetic” appeal to him. Until I saw that in his other hand he washolding a whip – not one of those small ones that in the early days I’dbought to threaten Greg with, but a proper long bullwhip, neatly coiled sohe could hold it…. And it was dripping with blood and what could be, andprobably were my brain told me, bits of flesh.”Well it’s a somewhat complicated matter – Did my PA say anything? Couldwe go to your office to discuss….””Who, little Sammy? He wouldn’t say. But said it must be important for youto spend time on it. He respects you, that lad does. All the family’sglad he pulled himself up and got a good job, so we owe you big time and ifI can help, I will. But look, I’m in the middle of something, and reallyought to finish it. You can wait, or perhaps you’d be interested in myoperation? Follow me around and have a look at what we do here, as itmight throw some light on how I can help.”I felt rather amused at the idea of Sam, so “in control” at the office was”little Sammy” around here. But I thought it would be interesting to seesome of the operation here, and said sure, I’d like to see.”You’ll have to leave your slave here – he might be upset. You can havehim fuck the girl if you like, she needs breeding, and a big buck like himcould sire a really good-looking `breed with her, I reckon.”The girl didn’t seem to care, but looked over at Greg rather slyly. Helooked horrified.”Oh no, Greg won’t be upset. He was in the marines, and I think he saw alot out in the wars… And he’s totally obedient.””It’s different here, for slaves. When they see what we do for some of theslaves here they do find it very upsetting. And let me give you a littletip, based on long experience. There’s no such thing as a `totallyobedient’ slave. Only a slave where the threshold between obedience andpunishment is in balance. Take it too far out and it doesn’t matter whatthreats the future might hold, a slave will disobey because the present isso bad.””I assure you Greg’s not like that. He’s sensible, obedient…””Well we’ll see. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He looked at Greg andsaid “Unclothe”.”There’s no need for that…””Yes there is, sir. For two reasons. Firstly, all slaves `out the back’are naked. So it’s easy for the guards to be able to distinguish free men,like you and me, from them. And secondly, if he does `go rogue’, or evenif he’s a `bit uppity’ as we say in the trade, then there’s a lot of bareskin for the goads to strike. Anyway, as I said, you can leave him hereand he can fuck the girl if he wants – and if you agree, of course – or hecan strip and accompany you.”Even at times like this I can’t resist a deal. “If he does stay, what’sthe fee, the stud fee?”Dave laughed. “You’re a clever one. Sammy said that. No fee, you justget the satisfaction of knowing that your slave is still a man, a real manthat is, capable of getting the girl pregnant.”This was funny. I was enjoying it. And thinking about how Greg was alwaysgoing on about how he never had “proper” sex now, I looked at him and said”It’s up to you, Greg. Strip off and come with us, or stay here and have abit of fun – I can see from the way your shorts are tenting you find thegirl desirable.”Greg actually glared at me. He’s at the point now where he finds it easierfor me to make all the decisions for him. And he was going to beuncomfortable with whatever he did, having to decide for himself.”I’ll stay here, sir. But I won’t touch the girl, thank you.”Dave barked “You fucking slave! You’ll do whatever your owner says. If hewants you to fuck her, you will. And if he doesn’t, you won’t. You don’tget to choose – you’re a slave.”Thinking about it I realised I didn’t want Greg’s cock in the female, so Isaid “No fucking. But next time you complain about not having the sight oreven scent of a woman, I’ll remind you of today. It’s been offered, andyou turn it down, but in the end I decide, decide I don’t ant you to fuckher…. now. In fact, I’m not even certain that I shouldn’t insist – it’snot good for slaves to make choices.” I was smiling inwardly as I saidthis, and saw Greg’s face start to look all anxious. “But we’re in ahurry, so on this occasion, suit yourself.”So saying, Dave opened the door behind the desk and went through, expectingme to follow.We went into a dark, narrow passageway that after a couple of paces openedinto what must be one of the other buildings on the narrow site. There wasa pathway between lines of cages on either side – really small cages, onlyjust large enough for a slave to lie down in them, and very uncomfortable:just bars, and a bare concrete floor. Most of them contained a nakedslave, and I could see that Dave must be one of those totalnon-discriminatory people as there was a random mixture of races, and thesexes were all mixed up too (although, as you’d expect, there were far moremales than females). There was an intoxicating scent in the air – bodies,I suppose, all those pheromones, mixed in with piss, and a bit of shit. Itwas like being at a zoo seeing the a****ls in their cages.”This is my stock”, Dave told me. “Not top class, as you can see. Mostlytoo old, or too weak, or downright ugly. But I buy `em cheap, exercise `ema bit to put on a bit of firm flesh, and sell `em on to the trade.””What’s your margin?”He looked surprised. “About 10% I suppose. No one’s ever asked me thatbefore.””Gross or nett?”He looked uneasy so I added “10% between buying and selling prices, or 10%after you’ve taken into account all the expense of running this place -cost of capital employed, business rates, power and heat, guards….””Oh, I try to get 10% more than I paid.””Well I suspect you’re barely profitable, then. All those costs mountup. Especially the cost of capital and so on. I assume you do make aprofit?”He looked as if he was going to tell me to mind my own business, butinstead said “You’re a shrewd one, aren’t you! Most people I show aroundare more interested in the slaves than in the numbers in the books.””Perhaps that’s why I’m a very successful business man, then.” We bothlaughed, but he looked a bit more worried when I added “But at thosemargins you probably aren’t profitable at all. So I suspect there’s a fewdeals made on the side, where the sales don’t hit the books at all? Thatmust be a challenge since they introduced VAT on slaves, and the VAT peoplehave always been much hotter on looking at the business than theCorporation Tax people are! If you don’t know it already, let me tell youto be careful, very careful. Very careful indeed – it would be a pity ifyou ended up in a cage like that yourself in some other dealer’s stockrooms, after the tax authorities pounced!”He wasn’t smiling at all now, so I tried to lighten the mood a bit byadding “But if you do, try to get a message to me – I’ll make a decentoffer for you…”We didn’t continue then as we came out into a small enclosed courtyardwhere there was a slave hanging by his wrists from a whipping frame. Hisback was already shredded, and there was a pool of blood on the floorunderneath.”I just need to finish this one – you arrived when I was almost done.””Finish it? It looks finished…”He bent close to me and said calmly and quietly. “No, it’s one of myspecial services. If you have a violent slave and get the courts to ordera proper bull whipping, and you send it to a public whipmaster, it willcome back to you damaged and it will take time for it to recover andthere’s no guarantee of success. So you’ve got all the expense of havingit not work, needing d**gs, all that sort of stuff, and you end up withsomething that isn’t worth much anyway. But if you send it here – I have alicence to carry out bull whippings – you will get it back, but so badlydamaged that it will die in a day or two. A huge saving of money. Andexactly what owners want – they need an example to show all their otherslaves what happens if they too are violent. It’s a skill I’ve got – itmustn’t die here or my licence is at risk, so I have to gauge just how farI can go. And I’m pretty good at it.”As he said this, Dave handed his jacket to a waiting slave, uncurled thefearsome whip he’s been carrying, cracked it in the air, and then set intothe slave. It was disgusting. Horrifying. I’ve never been exposed tothese more physical aspects of slave ownership and management, and seeingthis poor creature being literally flayed alive in front of me wasterrible. He was so far gone he had ceased screaming and there was only acontinuous keening sound coming from him, as his writhing and strugglinggradually died away too. Still, the courts do not lightly order a bullwhipping, and so I suppose the slave only had itself to blame. And in oursociety it is necessary to keep the slaves under ultimate control Isuppose.When he’d finished a slave bought Dave a basin of water and he rinsed hishands delicately, and we both watched as two big niggas cut the slave downand dragged it away. Dave’s shirt was drenched in sweat, and I foundmyself very attracted to this example of sheer masculine brutality.We went on, through an area where slaves were exercising – or perhaps itwould be better to say “being exercised”, as the guards standing aroundallowed for no letup in what they were doing, and Dave told me it was his”intensive” course to put the stock, and owners’ slaves, into betterphysical condition.And then the sex room, where… No, I must continue with the narrative.Suffice it to say there was every imaginable kind of act being “taught” tothe slaves, both singly and in pairs, and threesomes, and quartets, someall one sex, some mixed.After about half an hour Dave seemed to have finished his inspection,turned to me and said “Come to the office then and tell me about yourproblem”, and strode off with me following.The office was rather better than the reception area. I wondered if Davedeliberately kept the reception area rather mean and scruffy to giveclients the impression it was a “cheap” place where the prices would below. In the office though there was a very businesslike desk with aterminal on it, and proper “office” chairs, very much like he ones we hadat Canary Wharf. To one side of the room there was a counter top with asmall sink and an expresso machine, tended to by a slave.”So, coffee, or something stronger? Whiskey….?””No, coffee’s good. Black, no sugar, please.”I watched in fascination as he slave made it. Like the slave at receptionhe was clearly rather exceptional, and therefore, I guessed, veryexpensive. It looked as if Dave did not bother to stint himself with thequality of the slaves around him personally. This particular one was a lad- he must have been only just above the age limit for enslavement. Slight,some would say skinny, and some would say starved-looking as his ribs wereall visible. He wore only the very tiniest pair of pale blue satingshorts, and I do mean tiniest: I have Greg keep his pubes clipped andtrimmed so he can wear the low-slung slave shorts I like to see on a man,but this slave’s were of a different order altogether. He must have beentotally shaved (as, I now saw, the rest of him appeared to be), as the topof the shorts was literally right at the top of his cock! He wasn’tstunningly well hung, but his cock, outlined through the satin, seemed tobe properly in proportion to the rest of him.He came over and gave me my coffee, then went and knelt by the side ofDave, who almost affectionately ruffled his hair. “Good, Timmy. You’relearning. But when you offered my guest his coffee you didn’t kneel asyou’ve been told to, to make sure there’s nothing else he wants. So youknow what that means, don’t you?”The young slave nodded, stood up, and pushed down his shorts. As he turnedI could see his bum was bright red, in contrast to the rest of hismilky-white skin. He almost fell across Dave’s lap, and Dave held himthere with his big hand pushed into the lad’s neck as he slapped his bumhard – and for a powerful man like Dave, I could imagine “hard” was veryhard. The lad squealed and then sobbed, but made no plea for mercy. Andhis wriggling, to try to avoid the blows, didn’t seem to be all thatserious – indeed, it looked rather erotic.After six slaps Dave stopped and pushed the lad off his lap, and hesprawled on the floor. Now I could see his cock clearly, and it was, as Ihas suspected, “just right”. And perhaps the spanking had not been as harda I thought, as he was erect. He stood there looking somehow vulnerableand defenceless, and wiped a tear away fro his eyes.”He’s a nice lad is Timmy”, Dave told me. “He’s lucky I found him tuckedaway in a corner at Scabbard & Drass. Something must have gone wrong withtheir system as had he appeared on the auction platform some old pervertwould certainly have snapped him up for a high price – some of those oldmen do dreadful things with young slaves! I paid the pre-auction askingprice straight away. – ludicrously low, it was And now I’m teaching him howto work properly as a house slave.””He certainly does look good, if you like young lads like that. But he’sso young – what did he do?””Oh, the usual! Hormones raging, so he had sex, lots of it, with the girlsin his school. Then one of them got pregnant – silly boy – the parentscomplained, she said she’d been forced, of course, so he was held injuvenile detention until his birthday, and then sent off to S & D to besold. ” He paused, and went on “It’s wrong, if you ask me. They shouldn’tenslave you until you’re eighteen. But anyway Timmy here has fallen on hisfeet, so to speak, to be bought by me – I don’t fancy sex with youngsters.I’ll make a good profit when I do sell him, of course, but until then I’vegot to feed and clothe him….””….well that doesn’t look as if it costs much!”Dave laughed “So you’re a joker, too! And then there are the medicalbills, the annual slave tax… I don’t supposed it’s a problem for a manlike you, but for those of us struggling to make ends meet….””Enough! I reckon you’ve got a good thing going here. All those slaves touse – it’s not my style, but that young girl at reception looked prettyremarkable. A lot of cash-under-the-table transactions, I’d imagine. Agood home in a relatively central area, paid for out of the businessprofits…. You probably end up with more than me!”He laughed again. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I do have a big financialcrisis looming. But what about you? Sammy didn’t know anything, or said hedidn’t…”Perhaps I’d touched a raw nerve even speculating about the extent of Dave’si*****l business dealings, and it was clear that he wanted to change thesubject completely. And, fascinating though it was to see more about howthe slave trade worked at this end of the market, I did have me own problemthat needed working on. And I certainly didn’t want to tell him more aboutmy life than I absolutely needed to.So I used the old trick of simply answering the part of a “stacked” seriesof questions that I wanted to. “Yes, Sam likes to think he knowseverything. But age and experience will always triumph over youth andenthusiasm as the old saying goes! And I do manage to keep some of myprivate affairs secret from him. Anyway, it’s quite simple, really. I’veacquired a slave. And I need the position regularised.””A pillar of society like you? `Regularised’..?””It’s a little complicated. I discovered a slave who has been `passing’.Pretending to be a free man, and rather successfully so. For severalyears. And I decided to `claim’ him.””Claim?””Well, rather more than that. I – or rather my slave Greg and I – seizedhim. And now he’s at my place, he’s my slave.””Well who would have thought it! When I first saw you, I thought you werethe very essence of law-abiding public rectitude. And now `seizing’ aslave. Keeping an i*****l slave for yourself….””He’s not i*****l! He`s a proper slave, with a SIN tattooed on his arm andeverything.””Yes, but if he’s been `passing`, then the slave is guilty of a seriouscrime. He won’t even be bull whipped – just executed. And they could makethe case that you have been harbouring him – an escaped slave, a slave whowas `passing`. You knew, and you didn’t immediately inform the SlavePolice.””Oh I’m sure they won’t see it that way…””And why not? The SP get a bonus, you know, based on the `takings’ theymake from dealing with slaves. So if they decided to investigate and youwere found guilty and enslaved and sold, they’d get 25% of that – you’dfetch a good price, as you look in good condition for a what – thirty threeyear old.””Thirty five….””Very good condition. Then there’s selling all your property – includingthat slave Greg, a good looking slave, worth a lot – and your savings,pension fund…. Why wouldn’t they try to enslave you? “”But the law….””As I said, it looks as if you’re harbouring the slave. He’s presumably atyour place now, and has been for some time.””A couple of days….””Long enough. You get 24 hours to report escapees, and after that….”This looked serious! Or perhaps this Dave was bluffing, trying to scare meso he could strike some sort of deal. But I don’t scare easily – I alwaysplay for high stakes in business. I’m used to playing my cards close to mychest, so shrugged nonchalantly. He gave me a long, slow stare then said”Anyway, we might as well see how bad things really are. You said thisslave had a SIN tattoo?”I reeled off the eight digits – numbers come easily to me of course.Dave typed them into his terminal and I could see him reading and kind ofnodding. “Hmmm… A good looking property, or at least he was when he wasenslaved and just before he escaped.””Very good looking. That’s what attracted me to him – he was sittingopposite me on the tube. Then I saw his SIN by accident.”Dave looked at me seriously “My best advice to you….””Yes?””My best advice is to forget all about this. Have the slave vanish. Forgetyou ever had anything to do with it.””Well if he went free how could I be sure he wouldn’t come back? Even tryto blackmail me?””When I say `vanish’ I mean just that. Have it `disappeared’, as we say inthe trade. Removed from the face of the planet. His record will remainopen for 100 years and then be wiped. I can arrange that, for a modestfee.””Disappeared? What do yo mean?””Do I need to spell it out? Well, killed. And the body disposed of. Itwill go out to the disposal works at Becton and be ground up for pet food,like all the other dead slaves.””You can’t be serious! Kill a slave? A slave like that?””I am serious. Perhaps it’s you who is not being serious, not seriousenough about the position you find yourself in. Dispose of this slave, orget yourself enslaved. You can always buy another slave if you find thisone so attractive. Slaves in this condition of his age don’t come cheap,but you look as if you could easily afford it, if I may say so.””Yes, I could afford it. I bought Greg, who was expensive, years ago whenI didn’t even have as much as I do now. But that’s not the point.””Well what is the point? The killing? It’s a slave, you know, not a freeman…. Slaves get killed all the time, at work…. Or with a Court orderif they have been violent or whatever.””It’s not that. It’s just that this one’s special…”He almost sneered. “Another mistake, then. Falling for a slave! Andafter only a couple of days! You really ought to think `buy `em, fuck `em,sell ’em’. No romantic involvement with a slave. It’s madness.”I slammed my hand down on the desk with anger and frustration. “How dareyou! What do you take me for? Some sort of idiot who has nothing better todo than have sex with slaves?”I rarely lose my temper and show it publicly. I do lose it frequently, butI have learned not to show it. So it’s rare for me to make a publicdisplay like that. Then I realised that this Dave was pretty good atmeetings, too, as he gave that same little smirk and said quietly “Exceptthat Greg, of course. Pretty fond of him, I suppose. You’ve had him allthis time…”I recovered my composure instantly, and smiled. “What? Fuck Greg? No,he’s just there to provide services any gentleman requires – he’s got agood mouth and a trained throat. But how did you know I’ve had him forsome time?””The girl saw his SIN and I looked it up before I came out to meet you.The value of a slave a man has is a useful guide to how wealthy he is ingeneral.””Look, I don’t want the slave killed, as he’s mine. And yes, of course Icould afford one like him. Better than him, if I wanted. But that’s notthe point. It’s more complicated.””How so?””I suppose you’d call it `the thrill of the chase’. I saw this slave`passing’. I made a plan and did something about it. And now it’s mine.The spoils of my labour. Something I did.” I leaned forward to show wewere being confidential and went on “I fight for things all thetime. That’s what I do. I fight to make deals, deals that give the verybest return for my company. When I started out it a very personal, and ahuge load of fun – outwitting the opposition, wheeling and dealing,scheming, making things happen… Now it’s my people who have all theday-to-day action: I supervise, orchestrate, manage them… I cut huge,huge deals, but it’s not as much fun.””So there I was on the tube to the office for another day of making money,and there’s this stunning man. And then I see he’s a slave. i*****lly`passing’. And now he’s mine, through my efforts. It’s a bit like the olddays – I’ve got something through my own direct efforts. And I’m not aboutto let it go! So whatever the cost, there needs to be a way through this -money isn’t an issue here.”Dave was smiling now. “Yes, I understand! My parents wanted me to go intolaw, or into the city, or something. But I only ever wanted to be doingsomething for myself, and dealing with slaves – or, rather, resolvingproblems with slaves, not so much dealing, is so satisfying.””I think we understand each other then. So what’s the first step?””You need to leave it with me for a couple of days whilst I look into a fewthings. You could bring the slave here for safe keeping…””No, I’m enjoying the interplay with my other slave.””You’re putting yourself at a higher risk, keeping it around our place. Ifthere should be a raid…””In my building, there are no raids! There’s a senior police officerliving five floors below me, and a government minister eight down.””I’ll be in touch then….”At that moment the slave girl from reception came in and said, ratherfamiliarly I thought, “That nephew of yours is here.”Before any of us could do or say anything, Sam burst into the room. He waslooking even more interesting than usual – tight, low-slung jeans, and aleather bomber jacket emphasised his pert little bum. And he was bouncingaround, full of fitness and vitality.”Dave! And…. Sir! I just came to see if everything was OK.”Dave glared at him. “I’ve told you to stay out of here when I’ve gotclients. We might have been in the middle of important business.””I wanted to make sure my boss was OK….””Well of course I am! You must have seen Greg outside, and you know thatif he was there nothing serious could happen.”Dave grinned. “It’s his usual curiosity. He wants to knoweverything. Wants to be in on everything.” He winked at me, out of Sam’ssight, and went on smoothly “Now you’re here, though, you can help me out.You do want to help, right? To do me a favour?””Yes, of course, Dave.””It’s the new pictures for the website. I’m going to have Timmy herefeature – I’m not going to sell him yet, but it might drive some businessthrough the doors when they see his nice little body. I’ll get thecamera.” He turned to me and added “You’re welcome to stay….”, winkingagain. So I nodded.It wasn’t particularly interesting at first – although Timmy has that niceslim little body I’ve told you about, and the way he was so thin andtotally shaved made him look very young, he basically is not “my type”.Dave had him done in the tiny shorts, and then had him strip them offalmost coquettishly, before doing several totally naked poses where he alsohad to erect himself, and then bend right over for close-ups of hisasshole.Then Dave asked me “Could I use that slave of yours? He’s in betterphysical condition than any of the stock out in the cages, as you’veseen. And I want some pictures with more than one body in them.””I’d rather not. And in any case wouldn’t it be rather dishonest,suggesting you had him for sale, when he’s not? You can’t be too carefulwith the trade inspectors always looking for misrepresentations…””You’re right. But we can show pictures of the slave Timmy and a free man,providing I don’t say it’s two slaves.” His gaze turned and he went onsmoothly “So come on then, Sammy, out of those clothes, and let’s do thebusiness….””Hey Dave, no way! I’m not having my pictures splashed all over the web.””I won’t show your face. Just your body. I want Timmy across your lap andyou spanking him, as this gives a good hint of some of the specialisedservices I offer. Come on, you owe me a few favours…”Sam looked kind of helplessly at me. “Don’t mind me, Sam. We’re all menhere. I’ve seen enough naked men in my time – I used to play rugger atuniversity, you know, and the showers…””No, I really don’t want to, Dave.””Sammy, I think you’ve forgotten a few little things I’ve helped you keepfrom your mom, and step mom, and her bloke, and your aunts, and cousins….You owe me. Now, get that jacket and shirt off.”Slowly, very slowly, he undid his jacket and hung it carefully on the backof one of Dave’s chairs, then unbuttoned his shirt and untucked it from hisjeans. I’d always wanted to see the whole of his torso, and not just theglimpses I’d seen between shirt buttons, and I wasn’t disappointed. Not atrace of fat. Lovely smooth skin. No unsightly rows of muscles, butclearly fit and muscular nevertheless. And a very nicely finished navel -tucked in – from which a faint treasure trail ran downwards. To add to theexcitement his jeans were so low-hanging that there was a couple ofcentimetres of the waistband of his underwear showing.There was a bit of messing around then as Dave took shots, posing Timmy’spert little body across Sam’s lap, then getting Sam to spank him, albeitgently. Finally he seemed to have stopped and Sam stood up, lookingrelieved. Then Dave turned to me and said quietly “I don’t know if it’sonly me – but you look like a man who understands slaves and knows what helikes… Did you think this was erotic? It’s desire that drives a lot ofthis business.””Yes, it was erotic… A bit.””I thought so. We need to do more. Sammy, off with those jeans andunderwear.””No way!””Come on, Sammy! Do it for Dave… And remember all your family. And asyour boss says, we’re all men here, and we’ve all seen naked blokes before.And I can tell from that bulge in your jeans you’ve got nothing to beashamed of… You’re always flashing yourself around, showing it off topull in the women…””No, Dave!””I don’t like to pressure you, Sammy. But remember that money youborrowed? I haven’t seen any of the repayments yet…. It sounds a bitungrateful to me, not wishing to return a favour when I’ve been so patientabout the money. You can look at it as a way of paying off some of theinterest…”It was my turn now. “Sam hasn’t borrowed money from you has he, Dave? Thefinancial Services Authority is very hot on unauthorised loans fromirregular lenders. They think it exposes people working in the industry topressure. I hope there isn’t a loan, as I’d have to report it and Sam’schances of a good job…” This wasn’t strictly true, of course. But itsounded good.Slowly and reluctantly Sam undid his belt and his flies, pushed the jeansto the floor with some difficulty as they were so tight, levered his shoesoff, and stepped out of the jeans. He stood there in his small, tight,shorts – the little legs made his thighs look particularly appealing. Hisarms were wrapped around himself, as if to give him some comfort orprotection.”All the way, Sammy.””Dave, please. You can take the photos of him lying on my lap like this.They won’t see my underwear…””They will, or they might. And it will inhibit my photography. Now, offwith them.”Sammy was even slower now, but once the waistband was down beyond his cock- which interestingly was half-hard so he evidently find it too distressing- he kind of dropped them quickly and stepped out of them. Now he wasalmost defiant as he stood in front of us.”…and the socks. We can’t have one slave in bare feet and another who issupposed to be a slave too with socks on.”On those occasions when I’ve watched them, and in the changing rooms when Ihad time for sport, I’ve always enjoyed seeing men take their socks off.They sort of perch on one foot, bend their other leg to pull the sock off,then repeat it with the other foot. And all the time they are doing thisthe muscles in their backsides and thighs are stretching and bending, theircocks are waving around, and if you’re lucky you might even get a glimpseof their taint. But not on this occasion. But I suppose you can’t haveeverything.Dave then directed Sammy to sit in one of the chairs, and to straddle Timmyacross his lap. My own cock was ramrod hard now as I could imagine thefeeling of the hot, sweaty flesh of both young men pressed close to eachother. And when Dave positioned Timmy to be more kind of “central”, theirtwo cocks must have been right together. And there’s nothing as good asanother man’s cock pressed against yours, I think. I wondered if Timmy andSam were enjoying it as much as I was!The spanking was mildly interesting, but only in as much as it caused Timmyto writhe and squirm about – if their cocks had not been erect before, allthis motion would be rubbing them so hard they now would be, I reasoned.When Dave said he’d got enough images, Timmy stood up and stood thererubbing at his flaming red bum with his hands – and, indeed, he was erect.And under the light I’m sure I could see a drop of pre-cum drooling out ofthe end of his cock. Poor Sam, though – as soon as Timmy stood up heclutched at his crotch to cover himself with both hands before standing.But then he realised the difficulty he had – presumably he didn’t want usto see his erection, and yet with it shielded by his hands there was no wayhe could dress. It’s not surprising, I suppose – even men who are used tobeing naked together in the changing rooms never want other men to see themerect, and I’ve seen many men making frantic attempts to drag a towelaround themselves if it seems to be happening.Sam chose to fix the problem by turning his back to us and reaching out forhis underwear, but Dave winked at me and reached over and slapped his bum -not hard, but enough to make Sam gasp and involuntarily turn around. Sureenough, as I’d thought he would, he had a very, very nice erect cock. Itwas stretched so high that it looked as if his cock head would bump intohis belly. That’s one really good thing about young men, I think: theforce of their erections. As you get older somehow it’s never the same,and they barely go above the horizontal. And sure enough, he too had alittle jewel of shiny pre-cum.Sam was blushing desperately as he pulled on his little shorts, trying tostuff his cock into them and only half succeeding, and then pulling up hisjeans – I bet he wished now that he hadn’t got those ultrafashionable,ultra-tight ones. He didn’t speak to us as he put his shirt on, and Davesaid to me “I bet that’s the only time you’ve heard young Sammy be quietfor more than thirty seconds!”I said goodbye to Dave then, with him saying again that we’d be in contactin a couple of days, and we went out through the slave pens and the yardwhich now I saw was full of men alone doing sexual exercises – one of theguards was ordering them to all wank themselves in unison.”Sir, don’t tell anyone at the office, will you?”, Sam whispered.”Of course not! But you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Mostof the men there would be glad to have a cock like yours, especially asthey’re so much physically taller generally. And I understand some of thewomen already know, they’ve had practical experience of it, I’m told.”I saw Sam smile then, and he was clearly recovering his normal happy self.And proud of himself, too, in that endearing way he has.Greg was waiting for us in reception still, and as we went through the doorhe frantically tried to brush the girl off him – she was twining herselfall over him, it looked like, and her tits were brushing against his barechest through the crack where the zipper of his fleece had slipped down.”Thank god, sir….””I thought you weren’t interested in the woman, Greg. You could have goneall the way, you know.””It’s not me, sir. It’s her. She’s been all over me, sir. I’ve had tohold her off…””Are you sure, Greg?”, Sam asked. “It looks to me as if you’re prettyinterested!” He pointed at the bulge in Greg’s shorts as he said this, andboth Sam and I laughed – which didn’t seem to amuse Greg at all.By the time we’d got back to my apartment I’d thought about what I neededto do, and I needed a good camera – I usually use the one in mycommunicator, but the need now was for the ability to film for a long time.I was impatient to proceed, and didn’t want to risk the “guaranteed on theday delivery” services, so decided to go up to Tottenham Court Road to buyone. It was a god opportunity to get some exercise, too, so I changed intomy running gear, and told Greg to do so too as we could run together.It’s a good run across Green Park and then up the mass of small streets toavoid most of the worst of the traffic fumes, and I soon found a camera inthe Tottenham Court Road stores, and a tripod to hold it on – although ittook three shops and a lot of bargaining to get the price to rock-bottom -I just have to do this, I can’t stand wasting money. And then we ran home- I really pushed the pace because I wanted to show Greg he wasn`t the onlyfit one (especially as he had to carry the camera and tripod, which,although no particularly heavy, did obstruct a runner’s really free style).Jason was slumped in a corner when we got back, and it looked as if thelazy bugger had fallen asleep. I woke him up with a good kick (not toohard as I didn’t want to damage him, and certainly not to the head, or theballs, as I wanted to keep him in good condition). It amused me then totell Greg to give him a good workout as I caught up on the WeekendFinancial Times, and I half-watched as he was made to run on the spot, dostar jumps, and pres-ups, and things like that – his cock and balls bobbingup and down were probably rather uncomfortable as although he clearly wasused to working out he`d probably always done it wearing some sort ofsupport like a jock strap or in-built supporters in shorts. Half waythrough I told Greg that perhaps he needed to do some more work on hisfitness too as he’d been “breathing hard” when we got back from the shops.He scowled at me but did of course obey, and it got harder for Jason thenas Greg attempted to show that he was fitter than Jason! It didn’t seemfair to have Jason mostly naked, so I told Greg he could keep his T on butto lose his shorts, too – which he didn’t like. I was really distractedfrom the FT then as seeing two semi-naked men working out competitively isreally quite arousing. In the afternoon I worked away on my scheme, and byteatime I was ready.Greg had been trying to watch a big rugby game on TV (with the sound turnedright down so as not to disturb me, and probably in the hope that Iwouldn’t notice as he knows I dislike sport on TV. To me, sport’ssomething you do – running, skiing, squash… not a passive thing youwatch. And even the sight of the professional rugby players isn’t reallyall that good these days – I guess at the start of the century all thosebig fit men bending over in the scrum in very, very tight shorts would havebeen extraordinarily erotic. But now you can go into any of the slave sexplaces and have big fit men bend over in front of you in real life, andwithout the shorts!As the game as getting to its climax with only a few points at stake andfive minutes to go, I stopped what I was doing and flipped the TV off. Ienjoyed seeing the disappointment on Greg’s face, followed by a flash ofanger, but he did not of course criticise me. When I used to live with aman (a free man, that is) it would have caused a torrent of abuse, butGreg’s been my slave no for long enough to know that I will not tolerateany dissent.I told him what I wanted, and soon he was clambering around – making Jasonco-operate, too – in pinning a white bed sheet to the top of the curtainsto make a plain backdrop. I then had Jason sit on a small set of steps(kept somewhere around to make it easy to change light bulbs or whatever)in front of it.”Right, Jason. You’re going to tell us your life story. I want just thekey details – what you did at uni, your first job, your enslavement,escape, how you got a job with George, “passing” as a free man for all thattime, and how you managed to get all the right financial sign-offs in spiteof not having free man’s papers….”He began, and soon I stopped him, barking “too long”. And after a timewhen he seemed to be incapable of just stating the facts and I had to keepcorrecting him, I warned him to mend his ways or else I would order Greg tospank him again. That mostly seemed to do the trick. As he was speaking Iwrote key words on individual pages from my pad, in very largeletters. Then I rehearsed him, making him go through the story again, andagain, and again, as I held up the pages.”Please… This is so boring….” He whined.”Again!”After that, it seemed to be about right. He had it all, quite smooth and”natural” sounding. Not as if he had been rehearsed, or coerced.”Now, I’m going to film it. You’ll see we have a plain background, andyou’ll only be seen from the waist up so no details of the apartment willbe visible. This is going to be totally untraceable. But first…”I went into the bedroom and fished out my white shirt I’d worn the previousday from the laundry basket, and came back and threw it at him. “Off withthat T, and put this on. I want you to look like a professional”.He dared to sniff sort of suspiciously at my shirt! Sure, I had sweat alot on Friday, but so what? And I had to snap at him again to get a moveon. Somehow he looked even more erotic standing there in the shirt than hehad in the singlet – the shirt was just that bit shorter on him as he’s sotall, so the bottom couple of centimetres of his cock hung down below thehem. I told him to sit back on top of the steps, and then positioned thecamera so he was properly framed and in focus, and made him say a few linesso I could tell it was picking up the sound OK.”Now, here’s the rules for the live show, Jason. Listen well. You’regoing to go through your life story one more, and only once, as I film as Iwant it to sound really spontaneous. I’ll stand behind the camera and showyou your cue cards to make sure you don’t miss anything out. And to focusyour mind and give you just that little degree of nervousness that might beexpected if this was truly the first time you’d done it, Greg here is goingto lie on the floor out of shot, and hold your balls. At the merest signalfrom me he’ll squeeze them good and hard. So don’t upset me, don’t make meget Greg to hurt you. Understand?”I’d been motioning to Greg to position himself during this, and I could seehim now reaching up to find Jason’s balls as he sat there. This was alldoubly exciting for me as not only was Jason nervous and hating it, but sowas Greg! He still thinks of himself as “straight” as I’ve told you, andit was a huge effort initially to get him to suck my cock, which he stillhates doing. So making him hold Jason’s balls was a really unpleasant taskfor him.We got through the filming first time, though, and watching it I waspleased with the result – “spontaneous”, with just the right amount ofhesitancy and nervousness. And absolutely no clues as to where it had beenfilmed. The part where Jason had had to hold up his arm to show his SINwas particularly effective, and wearing my expensive white shirt reallyadded to the idea that he was a business executive.I encrypted the movie and uploaded it into my secure virtual server in thecloud, then told Greg to run down to the river and throw the camera andtripod in – I didn’t want there to be any possibility of it being tracedback to me, and I suspect camera makers secretly encode all sorts ofinvisible “watermarks” to assist police in tracing the origin of things.A previous arrangement to a dinner with senior work colleagues and theirwives took me out then – tedious for me, and somewhat awkward for them Isuppose as the table seating is all wrong when there’s couples, plus one.The wives didn’t know what to say to me, understanding that chatteringabout girlfriends might be unfortunate. But the food was excellent as you’dexpect with two Michelin stars (I’d managed to convince all the others inthe firm over my time there that paying the even higher prices for threestars really is not good value for money!) And we had excellent Krug as anaperitif, and a stunning Chateau Palmer. I was glad it was not me pickingup the bill – although I suspected it would be charged to the company sosome part of it would come out of my next bonus!There was that general air of tension when I got back, and when I was inbed and ordered Greg to come in and suck my cock, he did it with even worsehumour than he usually did. And all through the night there were muffledsounds through the wall, that were not conducive to a good night’s sleep.On Sunday morning therefore faced with the simmering resentment between thetwo slaves, and of me by both of them, I decided to act. I suppose I couldhave caned both of them to improve their attitude, but instead called Dave.”You said it would take a couple of days before you had everything readyfor Jason, but could you take him now? There are a few of your `fixes’ Iwant for him, and it occurs to me that you could be getting on with thosewhilst the paperwork or whatever is sorted out.””Sure! And it will be good to see you again, anyway. Perhaps we could goout for a beer and a sandwich afterwards…?”I shuddered at the thought of beer, but I liked Dave, as I’ve told you, soI agreed.As we had to transport Jason I broke one of my golden rules and called aminicab. I specified one with a slave driver so he would appreciate whatwas going on, and when it arrived I had Greg bundle Jason into the boot forthe journey.In spite of being a slave the cab driver was one of those “chatty” Londonones who think they know everything and went to tell you their opinions -as if they matter! There didn’t seem to be any way of politely shuttinghim up, then I remembered he was a slave, so simply ordered him to.When we got to Dave’s Slaves and Greg got Jason out of the boot, keeping afirm hold of him to make sure that even at this point he didn’t make anystupid attempt to flee, I had to ring a couple of times as evidently theplace did not do business on Sundays – stupid really, as slave traders haveexemption from the restrictive Sunday trading laws, so Dave might have aswell stayed open as all the stock was there and supervisors had to beavailable anyway. And surely buying slaves was something a family wouldwant to do together, in their leisure time – but then I thought perhaps thetype of slaves he sold and the services he offered might make Dave’s placeunsuitable for k**s, and women. Still he came to the door personally, areal mark of respect I reckoned, as presumably that black girl wassomewhere around and she or Timmy could have been sent.Greg pushed Jason in, still keeping a firm hold of him I noticed, and wewent through into the yard in the centre of the place.”Lets’ take a good look at him”, Dave said to me casually, and snapped”Strip!” at Jason.Very slowly the T and shorts dropped to the ground, and Jason stood therein front of the three of us sort of vaguely trying to shield his cock andballs with his hands.”Do you want Greg to strip too, Dave? I seem to remember you said allslaves out the back here had to be naked to stop them being confused withfree men…””No, it’s OK. It’s Sunday, and we only have one guard on as all the slavesare kept in the cages all day. You can have him strip if you like….”I looked at Greg who was glaring again, and was rather amused as his faceslackened when I said “Oh, OK, then, let’s keep his clothes on. It will bean interesting contrast between him and the others.”Dave gestured for me to lead the way then into the corridor lined with theslave pens, and once again there was that delicious scent of nakedness andsweat and piss and, I suppose, fear. Dave opened up one of the cages andmotioned for Jason to go in, and he refused. He turned at me and pleaded”no, sir, please no, don’t leave me here, don’t sell me….”The next moment he was writhing on the hard concrete floor, hi musclestwitching uncontrollably. Dave was standing over him with a shortcane-like thing and snapped “Do as you’re fucking well told, slave! Wetrain slaves here, and you’ve just felt the slave prod – and only at halfpower! Any disobedience, however slight, and you’ll feel it again – ithurts a lot more than a whip or cane, and it leaves no marks on your hideso we don’t have to restrict ourselves…”Jason struggled to get to his feet, and when he was half way up Dave kickedhis bum, causing Jason to sprawl on the floor again. “No, crawl. You’re afucking slave, remember?”Jason crawled on to the bare concrete of the cage, Dave shut and locked thedoor, and Jason then struggled to his feet using the bars to help him. Helooked around as if in a daze, as if this wasn’t real…. Although ofcourse it was. The cage on his left was occupied by a naked slave simplylying there, with a bloodstained rag wrapped around his cock. Oppositethere were two naked females, and we could clearly see an angry-lookingmark on their breasts, which I assume was a recent branding. And on theother side of Jason the male slave was covered in whip marks, some of whichwere still bleeding!Dave saw me looking at that slave, really rather shocked. “One of myspecial services”, he told me. “The owner is collecting this one later, soI’ve been up early to give him a sound whipping…””But he’s bleeding…””Exactly. This is a persistent offender, I’m told. Always slacking. So hisowner decided it was time to act. And a lot of owners don’t like to whipslaves hard – well, not hard enough to cause real pain like this… They’retoo soft! But I’m not – you want your slave whipped, whipped so hard itwill never recover properly as its hide will always be scarred, then I’myour man. I did it a couple of hours ago so the blood has mostly stoppedflowing – especially when we rubbed the salt in – so that the slave won’tmake a mess everywhere. So its owner can take it back and string it up forhis other slaves to see – the wounds will still be raw an open, and they’llbe able to tell it was bleeding…. It’s a really good lesson for theothers, cheap at the price, if you ask me.”I could hardly believe it. Dave seemed such a nice guy. And yet here hewas talking to me about whipping slaves until they bled as if it was aperfectly normal thing. It just goes to show you can’t always judge byappearances! Still Dave was now looking at Jason through the bars, andturned to me and said “I’m fixing the SIN thing, as I told you I could, butat high cost. So is there anything else you want doing to it?””I don’t think so….””Have it `skinned. That will help it adjust to the fact that it’s a slaveagain after that freedom.””I’m not sure…”Dave moved to the next cell and snapped at the slave lying there to get up.It did so, and stood near the bars. Dave casually reached in and unwrappedthe bloody rag, then threw it to the floor in the passageway.”You don’t need that any more”, he told the slave. “Mostly healed.” Hethen turned to me and said Take a good look at the slave’s cock, hold it ifyou like…””I’d rather not…””Yes, you need to. I’m pretty proud of my technique, and you need to feelit as well as see it….”It’s not that I was afraid – I don’t scare easily as I’ve told you. Andanyway I knew Dave would never dare harm me or anything. But somehow Ifelt compelled to reach in and hold the slave’s cock in my open palm. Daveput his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him as I stood there,a little nervous.”See…””See what?””Look at the colour. The normal darker skin of most of the shaft. Thenthe pale band that was the underside of the foreskin before I did it, thenthe darker cock head. That’s to be expected, and the pale bit will go alittle darker, but most `skinned men have that colour change. But feel it- stroke along the cock with a finger….. Feel anything?”I did as he told me, feeling his presence against me as he continued topull us together. And it was kind of erotic as the slave’s cock started togo a bit hard, and I could feel it sort of crawling slowly across my palm.”No, I don’t feel anything…””Exactly! No scar. That’s my speciality. A lot of `skinned slaves have asort of ridge, partly loose skin, at the join. But I always judge it rightso that the cock always feels smooth.”I nodded, and Dave continued “So I can quickly `skin him now if you like,and you can watch. It’s good for a slave to have its owner watch as itloses its foreskin. It shows that you’re truly in control of it, getsthrough to it in a way that words alone don’t, that it’s your possession,that you can have done to it whatever you like.”I don’t like the look of blood all that much, but I could see what Davesaid was true and it was probably what Jason needed. Actually, it would begood for him, I thought. He’d run once, as he clearly had not accepted hisslave status. So it would be a kindness, almost, to help him see that hereally was not a free man, in any sense of the words.”Yes, thank you. A good idea. You can `skin Jason, as you call it. Butnot this morning, I have to get back….””What abut the frenulum? Do you want me to leave that little triangle, ortake it off?””You mean that little triangle under the cock head… What do most ownersdo?””Oh, about half and half. Keeping it allows the slave a bit more pleasurewhen it’s wanking – they miss the `skin of course, but with the frenulumleft they still get some enjoyment. On the other hand taking it off makesthe whole cock look a lot smoother. And the slave can last longer beforeclimax as without it there’s even more of a loss of sensitivity – good ityou like to watch the slave fucking….””Oh, then I suppose it can be left. I like the slave to have a bit offun.”Dave nodded. “And what about a brand? He’s not branded, as far as I cansee.””Is it essential?””It used to be when slavery was first reintroduced. But not for the lastfive years or so – the RSPCS – that’s like the RSPCA but for slaves – got ahuge petition up to ban branding. Parliament debated it and changed thelaw, but only so far as to say it was no longer compulsory – owners couldstill have it done if they wanted. That was enough for all the do-goodersin the RASPS and they haven’t tried again. Now I get a lot of brandingwork though, especially on experienced slaves who were not branded atenslavement, around the time all the row was going on in parliament.” Hepaused and went on “The RSPCS did me a lot of good actually – it also hasto be done by a `certified practitioner’ now, a bloke like me with all theproper kit. The owner can’t just press part of the slave against a gasring, for example.””Why should an owner have a slave branded later on…?”Dave shrugged. “Who knows, I don’t ask. As long as they pay, I don’t care.But I suspect it’s all part of this needing to show total ownership andcontrol thing. When you’ve had a slave for some time it can get toofamiliar, so a branding, or, rather the pain of it, resets its view. Andthen whenever it touches the brand, it’s reminded, of course. But in thecase of this Jason of yours, I think it’s essential to reinforce its viewof its status…””Yes, I suppose so, then.””Where do you want it placed?””What do you recommend?””Normally, a big `S’ on one of its flanks. So when you’re fucking it youcan see it, and even run your fingers along the scar to remind you howcompletely in charge of it you are.. Of course….”, Dave looked at mequestioningly “…if you only… ” He stopped as if he had said somethingslightly improper, corrected himself and went on “if you mostly fuck itsface, a smaller scar on the upper arm, at the shoulder, is good. You canfeel it as you grip the slave to pull its head right down.”Was Dave testing me? Had I done, or not done, something else wrong,something a “man” around here would know, like not tipping a pub waitress?I’ve told you I don’t ass fuck Greg, only use his mouth and throat. Butperhaps Dave regards this as unmanly? Perhaps “real” owners always fuckslave’s asses. That subtle change from “only” to “mostly” was sayingsomething – it’s those things you pick up on when, like me, you’rebargaining hard with an opponent.”A good idea. Yes, both. “Dave smiled. I must have passed the test. But he went on “And what aboutthat big slave of yours? Do you want the new one’s brands placed to matchhis? When you have them fuck each other for a bit of amusement it can bebetter to have them matching – it’s more erotic.””Greg’s not branded.” I should have stopped but added “And they won’t fuckeach other.”There was a really strange look from Dave at me. Was I failing? So I wenton, hurriedly “He wasn`t done when I bought him, and it never occurred tome to have it done. But now you mention it, it would be a goodidea…. I’ve had him a long time, and perhaps he does need reminding…”There was a sort of gasp from Greg. “No….”Dave looked at me. “Yes, he does need reminding! I can see that. I can doboth at the same time, so I get a perfect math on positioning. We couldlight the charcoal and when it’s glowing – it only takes about thirtyminutes – I can tie them down side by side, and you can mark where you wantthe brands on their skin…””Does it take long… And does it hurt….?””Does it take long? No. About three seconds with the hot iron pressedinto the flesh. Does it hurt? No, not at all.” Dave saw me lookingdoubtful and went on “You know the old joke about castrating camels?””No…””A man brings his camel to a place where camels can be gelded. The blokewho’s going to do it is holding two bricks and tells the owner it’s reallysimple – the camel’s balls are pulled down and he slams the bricks togetheron either side. The owner asks `does it hurt’ and the man says `no,providing I keep my fingers out of the way’.” Dave smiled and went on”It’s like that – providing I don’t tough the branding iron, it doesn’thurt at all. It’s different for the slaves, though. I usually keep theslave in here for a day or so, especially for a big brand on the flank,whilst it gets over the crying and sobbing, and the initial scar forms”.”Crying? No pain killers…?”No, I don’t recommend it. The slave needs to feel and remember the pain -it’s part of making it a real slave. So there’s no point in doing it ifyou’re going to take the pain away.”Thank god for that. Here was a way out. “I can’t be without Greg at themoment, so I’ll keep it in mind for when I’m about to go on vacation. Butyou can do Jason.”Dave nodded again. “Well that’s that, then. I’ll do the `skinning andbranding tomorrow – I’ve got some others coming in and it’s more efficientto do them all tougher. Now, I think we’re finished… Come on back to myquarters…”We left Jason then, and it was piteous, really. His hands were stretchedout through the bars, as if imploring me, and he was crying and shouting”Please don’t leave me… Please…”Dave did not seem to notice though and simply said conversationally “It’soften like this. Your slave is acting as if it’s a free man brought in forthe fist time. They all cry and scream, fearing what’s going to happen tothem. But they all get over it. And they’re all good slaves after it -and it is better for them, you know – getting to understand their statusquickly, rather than agonising over it and even doing something stupid likerunning…. And passing. A lot of owners won’t tolerate that, and have arunner gelded… So it’s better to get them properly `broken’ up front.”I nodded.”I reckon you’re lucky with that Greg – you’ve not had any problems?””No, he’s a really good, obedient slave. In every way.”Dave slapped me on the back. “Yes, I can see that. A great ass on him.And nice big tits. I bet it’s a real pleasure to grab them as you fuckhim… You’ve obviously got him well trained – seeing how he was with theblack girl I’d put him down as `straight’ still. So being able to fuckhim, specially as he’s so obviously big and strong, shows true control. Ilike that in an owner.”Well, what could I say? There was no way I could tell Dave now that Ididn’t fuck Greg. So I simply mumbled “Quite so.””Have you got to get back?” Dave then asked.”Not particularly….””So how about a spot of lunch? They do a great roast on Sundays at thelocal pub.”I shuddered inwardly, as I know what these pub roast lunches can be like -grossly overcooked meat, not properly pink, and cut very thin; bullet-hardroast potatoes; and “three veg” all of which would be overcooked to atasteless mush; and the whole covered in thick gelatinous “gravy” andtopped with a mass-produced Yorkshire pudding even if the meat is not beef,and which is nothing like the real thing! But I’d taken a real liking toDave and I was interested in his slave business, so I said “Sure – soundsgood to me.”Greg got up to follow us, but Dave said “No slaves allowed in the pub -well, there’s no absolute rule, but it’s pretty much a place for workingmen, and taking a slave in isn’t considered good form – they’ll thinkyou’re showing off being able to afford one, and a lot of them are worriedabout losing their jobs to slaves anyway. It doesn’t make for a goodatmosphere.””Oh he can wait outside….””No, he’d be spotted. Leave him here – you can collect him on the wayback…””Oh I don’t want him in one of those cages…””He can stay with Timmy in my quarters. They can watch a match on TV orsomething.”I saw Greg brighten as Dave said that, so I nodded to show my agreement,and we went out.It really was a “proper” pub – nothing fancy, no tourists, no “gastro pub”nonsense with an elaborate menu and choice of wines – I saw one bottle ofred and one of white behind the bar – no fancy decoration or anything. Justa long polished bar, some tables and chairs, a wooden floor, and thattypical smell of slate beer in the air. Outside there was the usual huddleof men smoking, even though it was cold – the law was so rigorouslyenforced these days that no one dared to do it inside as the penalty wasenslavement!We went in and Dave seemed to be known as one of the “regulars”. He toldme the “local” bitter was the best, and I could see that this was not theplace to order wine, or even a G & T! So I murmured “Sounds good to me”,and Dave ordered two pints, looked at me and said “the dinner, too?” Iwondered what he was saying for a moment then I remembered that in a placelike this the lunch would be a “roast dinner” and I nodded, as I didn’twant to look out of place.There was a small bench along the wall behind one of the tables, and Davewent and sat on it. I was pulling out a chair opposite, when he motionedme to come and sit beside him, saying “you get a better view from thisside”, so I moved. It was quite small, and I found myself pressing againstDave as we sat there and took the first swig of our beer – I could feel theheat of his body as our thighs pressed close.I’m not a beer drinker, and it was pretty much of a struggle to get it alldown, but we exchanged the kind of inconsequential chat men do who aretrying to get to know each other, or size each other up. A waitress – yes,a real one, not a slave – then plonked two large plates in front of ustogether with knives and forks wrapped in cheap paper serviettes. Sheexchanged a bit of banter with Dave, who was clearly a regular there Icould see now, then looked questioningly.”Another pint?” Dave asked – he’d downed his glass.”Oh, yes. My shout….” I went to get up but Dave told the waitress tobeing us two more pints, and when she did I gave her a note and said”….keep the change.””Don’t do that!”, he whispered afer she’d left us. Seeing my puzzled lookhe added “This is a pub, not some fancy restaurant up west. The blokesaround here don’t have money to waste on tips. Do you want to look likesome rich tourist?”I realised I’d made a mistake, and just nodded and looked sorry. I’dalways thought that I was always socially at ease and perfectly correct,but with Dave in these unfamiliar surroundings things were subtly “off”.The food was as dreadful as I thought it was going to be, but I had topretend to enjoy it as Dave kept on about how good it was that they stillhad a “proper” pub in the neighbourhood. “I come here every Sunday – a lotof local blokes do – as they also put on a good stripper”, he told me.I managed to eat most of the food and was hoping that we’d go then, butDave signalled the waitress over and ordered a third pint for each of us.We drank that a lot more slowly, exchanging more information as you do asyou get to know someone – and as the alcohol took hold. Then there was ablare of music and a lot of cheering and shouting from the other men.In the old movies when there’s a stripper it always seemed to take a longtime and the girl was always left with panties on. But in our more liberaltimes she came on wearing only panties, then gyrated around the room to theoverly-loud music, letting any of the men who wanted to fondle her breastsbriefly! She came over towards us but somehow sensing my unease Dave gavethe tiniest shake of his head and she moved on.The panties were off after a couple of minutes, and she repeated hercircuit of the room and now not only did some of the men fondle herbreasts, the bolder (or drunker?) ones reached out to stroke between herlegs!Dave whispered to me “A bit different from when I was a lad! Then it wasbreasts only. But these strippers have a tough time now as the pub couldsimply get a slave in.”I was going to ask why she would do it anyway when the music stopped andthe pub landlord (I suppose it was he who was in charge) used a microphoneto ask for a volunteer. And then when nothing seemed to happen, he offereda hundred to anyone who would come forward. Dave joined in the shoutingand laughter when a young bloke who was with a group of his mates whoseemed to be half drunk was suddenly pushed forward. More cheering andapplause, and the music started again but now most of the men in the placewere quiet.Dave put hi arm around my shoulders again to make us more comfortable onthe small bench and he was leaning forward in anticipation. The stripperwas winding herself all around the young guy now, and he seemed to beenjoying it, laughing and swaying in time to the music. Then, to my utterastonishment, she undid the belt of his jeans and pulled them down to hisknees! He stood there in a T shirt and skin-tight boxers as his mates nowall cheered, escort çanakkale and even I could see he was excited as there was a reallydistinct bulge in the front.The guy himself pushed his boxers down! It was so quick that I barelyregistered seeing his erect cock rear upwards as it cleared the waistband.But then he had his back to us as he was facing his mates, and we weregiven the view of his nice tight ass – pure white of course – with the hemof the T kind of perched on top of it where it flared out. His mates werereally cheering now and were chanting “Do it… Do it…. Do it….”I was glad we were sitting where we were as he pushed the stripper towardsthe table like ours but on the other side of the room, then roughly pushedher down onto her back on to it. She didn’t seem to be resisting, but heappeared powerful and strong and I wondered what sort of job he did thesedays to be like that, as so much manual labour is done by slaves. And thenof course he began to fuck her, to continuing shouting and cheering fromthe whole place.Look, I’ve seen men fucking women before of course, and it’s notparticularly interesting. But this young bloke doing it so casually infront of his mates and a room full of other people was something else! Icould feel my cock straining against my slacks, and I began to sweat hard.Dave was affected too, as he pulled me closer and I could feel the throb ofhis muscles against mine through our clothes as he shouted and cheered. Itwas over very quickly – then the bloke pulled out and quickly pulled hisboxers up, stuffing his still hard cock into them, followed by his jeans.He went over to his mates and there was a lot more laughing and “highfives” as the landlord came over and handed him the hundred, which hepromptly handed back – I sensed he was saying there were free drinks forhis mates for the rest of the afternoon.”Fucking hell”, Dave said. He looked at me and I could see he was lookingat the bulge in my slacks – one which matched the bulge in his, I noted.”You don’t see that in fancy restaurants around your way, I bet.”Before I could say anything he added “But that young bloke needs to watchit! Nice bum on him, and a good cock. And he clearly knows what he’sdoing. If there’s a slaver’s scout in here he could be in big trouble!Those bastards are always on the look out for someone like him to `take’and i*****lly enslave. It gives the whole trade a bad name.””So he’s a free man? I assumed those men had brought a slave with them.””What would be the point of that? You can see slaves fucking slaves anytime. No, that’s the whole point, why this place is jammed full onSundays. It’s a free man fucking a whore, voluntarily, in public… Prettyerotic, I reckon.” He glanced down again and saw me seeing him do it. Hesmiled “…and I reckon you think so, too!”We had to have another pint then of course so that we had evened up thespend, and this time I did not tip the waitress. Although Dave refused tolet me buy “the dinner” as he said kind of laughingly it would appear on mybill anyway hidden somewhere. So by the time we left the pub I was reallyalmost drunk – I really am not used to beer, especially four pints! And ofcourse I’d had to go out to the gents to piss a lot of it out, and Daveaccompanied me. And like so many cheap places there were none of those”modesty panels” between the stalls – in fact there were no stalls at all,just a long trough along one wall.I saw Dave looking down at my cock as we stood there pissing, which is fairenough, I suppose. All men do if they have a chance, and here it was allopen. And anyway I was doing the same to him.When we got back to Dave’s place and went through in to his living roomGreg scrambled to get to his feet, as Timmy already had. Greg was hamperedby the black girl being all over him again, and he really had to push heroff to be able to get to his feet. His zipper on his fleece was pusheddown to his navel and he looked erect judging from the bulge in his jeans-well, I suppose a guy like Greg would be with a girl rubbing herself allover his chest, as he always says he’s “straight”.Dave sat on the sofa and motioned for me to do so too, which I did, then hetold Timmy to go out and get us a couple of beers, which he did – Iprotested that I didn’t want any more, but Dave brushed my objection asidetelling me that we needed a beer as there was more entertainment on itsway. “I’ve sold the girl”, he said casually. “To an old guy. A really oldguy, who can’t actually get it up any more. And he wants her pregnant. Sowe’re going to get Timmy here to show us how he can perform – he wasenslaved for spending too much time with the girls, as I’ve told you.”He pointed at Timmy, standing there in his tiny shorts with a hugelynoticeable bulge in the front and said “Drop `em”. Timmy did, and as thewaistband cleared his cock it reared up to be almost parallel to his belly.”But why…?””Look, if you’ve got a male slave who’s too frisky for you the solution issimple – you take one or both of its balls of to calm him down a bit.Nowadays it doesn’t even have to spoil his look, as you can have prostheticones put in – and some people even think that their slave looks betterafterwards, especially if you use stainless steel balls as they are heavierand so hang a lot lower. Mind you, I don’t usually recommend it…””I’m glad! A guy losing his balls….””No, you really are naive about the slave business, aren’t you. It doesn’tmater about the slave, it’s the ongoing expense.” Dave saw me lookingpuzzled and went on “Think about it – you have prosthetics installed so asnot to spoil the `look’ of the slave. So presumably it’s got a pretty nicebody, good muscle tone, all that kind of stuff that owners like. So if youtake its balls off it will then lose that as the male hormones fadeaway…. So you have to give it hormone shots regularly. And themanufacturers know what it’s being used for, so they ramp up the price!”I nodded, and, warming to his subject, Dave went on “It’s different withfemales of course – no balls! And no real equivalent that you can takeout, either. So if you want to calm a female down you get it pregnant.After the first month or two it’s in no state to be frisky or rebellious.Then when it’s got a pup the problem’s solved: all you have to do isthreaten to sell off the mother, or the pup, separately. Most of them willthen do anything to try to stay with the pup… So prefect behaviour.Problem solved.”I nodded. I could see the sense in that. And Dave went on “…at leastuntil you decide to sell the pup anyway – young `bred’ slave go for goodmoney, you know. But by then you’ve had time to plan to get the slavepregnant again, and you can carry on repeating the cycle… Until the slaveis so old you don’t fancy it anyway.””So this old guy…?””Well, as I said, he can’t get it up! But in any case a lot of owners offemales don’t want to get them pregnant themselves, as they don’t like thethought of selling the pups who are their own k**s. So I do a fair bit ofbusiness in making it all happen…. And it can be fun, as we shall see.”He nodded at Timmy, who advanced on the black girl, his cock bobbingproudly in front of him. I initially felt a bit sorry for him as he wasafter all only sixteen, and she was a lot older. And really sorry as shesprang at him and started to beat at him with her fists, shouting “Keepaway from me….” and stuff like that. Then she tried to rake across hisface with her long fingernails – there was some blood as she halfsucceeded, and reached down and tried to grab at his cock.That seemed to galvanise Timmy into action, and he simply hit her, orshould I say slapped her, slapped her across the face, hard. And even asixteen year old, a sixteen year old in great physical condition, canstrike a mean blow. She staggered, and fell. And then Timmy was on her!Dave and I sat there and watched as this was so much more exciting than thebout in the pub, where it had been a whore paid for it and a young guywanting it, egged on by his mates. All the other men around and theshouting and the noise kind of cut us off from the action a little, made itseem remote in some way. Here though she certainly didn’t want it, it washappening directly in front of us, and there were no other sounds todisturb the sheer a****l noises of a male in rut and the screams of thefemale as she realised she had no option but to accept a cock. Mind youshe was raking Timmy’s back with her nails as he fucked away and there wasa lot of blood starting to flow – but somehow that added to the excitement.Dave shuffled a bit and out of the corner of my eye I saw it was so hecould unzip and get his cock out, and he began to stroke himself. I’d seenhis cock in the gents at the pub and thought it was a good one, but now inits erect state it was magnificent! And as he worked away and his foreskinretracted I was almost overcome by the sight of his dark red cock head,glistening with pre-cum.Then I began to worry. What should I do? I’d never wanked in front ofanother man before – ell, except Greg, and he’s a slave, and I suppose thatdoesn’t really count. I was hard enough – seeing Dave’s cock had startedthat. If I didn’t do something, Dave might think I was odd. But actuallymy mind was kind of made up for me as my cock was straining so hard nowthat it was almost painful as I watched Timmy’s young buttocks pounding upand down right there, so close I could almost touch them. And I could smellthe male odours of Dave, pressed so close to me on the sofa So I too”eased” myself and my cock sprang up – a really good, really hard erection.And almost without thinking, I began to stroke myself, too. I couldn`thelp tearing my eyes away from the sight of Timmy to take a closer look atDave, either – and I felt at first relief, and then pride, as I realisedthat my cock wasn`t smaller than his as I had feared it midget be as he wassuch a big, tough “masculine” guy; it might even be a bit longer.The trouble with having such a young guy as Timmy fucking is that they’vegot no control. Almost as soon as he had begun it seemed, he gave a greatshout and thrust himself deep into the girl one last time, then lay there,panting. Her screaming and whimpering had died away and she stoppedslashing at his back and simply lay there, beginning to sob. Timmy startedto pull himself out and up, but Dave reached forward and slapped him hardon his left bum, saying “Not so fast, my lad! You stay in there – we wantall your little swimmers to have a as good a start as they can get.”Dave looked at me then, as we sat side by side stroking our cocks. Helooked not only at my face, but down at my cock. I began to blush as Irealised my cock head was slippery with pre-cum too.”Too fucking quick, wasn’t it? I reckon you and me deserve a bit more timeto get off.”I nodded, secretly pleased that Dave was treating us as equals. “So whydon’t we get that slave of yours to dip his wick in? Let’s see how anolder bloke makes out. It should take a bit longer, anyway.”I nodded again, then realised what I’d done as I saw Greg really glaringand was about to say something. I was terrified that Greg might refuse,and Dave would see that I wasn`t a “proper” slave owner, with a slave whosimply obeyed. I’ve told you how Greg really wasn’t happy with sucking meoff even after a long time, and now I didn’t think he would agree to fuckin front of us. Then I stopped myself thinking those thoughts, it was allwrong! Greg didn’t need to “agree” with anything! He was a slave, myslave. And slaves should obey.”Get naked”, I called out to Greg. I saw him hesitate but before he couldactually refuse I said casually to Dave, loud enough so that Greg couldhear. “This should be good. The slave is always telling me how he’s`straight’ – and that’s what he was enslaved for actually, fucking somewoman or other. But I’ve never seen him in action with a female.”That sounded good, I thought… “Never… in action with a female” kind ofimplied I’d seen him fucking males lots of times – Dave would think I wasperfectly normal. Then to make sure Greg got the message I went on, toDave, “I’ve been thinking of selling him and getting a younger slave -another ex-soldier, like him. I guess I could ask you to sell him for me?You must get a lot of `difficult’ ex-soldiers in here. And you could do atrade-in?”Dave nodded, and I could see my message was getting through to Greg. Iknew he was terrified of being sold, as he knew life with me was prettygood and a new owner of an older slave would almost certainly only use itfor hard labour and toil. As we watched, he finished unzipping the fleeceand tossed it aside. Then he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down andit was good to see he was at least ready for action – his cock was rocksolid, jutting out in front. Not as high as Timmy’s had been, but then youexpect that, don’t you – an older guy, much heavier built with a muchthicker cock – it’s not going to be a real belly-slapper.Dave let Timmy pull out and get to his feet and he was still half erect -another benefit of youth, I suppose. Dave and I sat there and I could seehe was doing the same as I was, comparing and contrasting the two slaveswith their very different physiques. Seeing them side by side was anerotic scene in itself, and my cock went even harder, if that’s possible!Greg’s technique was quite different from Timmy’s. For one thing he didn’tjust fuck her, but he played with her tits, cupping them in his big hands.Then after he’d entered her in the “missionary” position I guess you’d callit, he pulled out, flipped her over on to her belly, put is arm under herto haul her to a kneeling position, and went in doggy-style.It was utterly thrilling, and it went on and on, and Greg’s big powerfulbuttocks seemed to be tireless in pounding up and down. I was watching sointently that I didn’t feel at first Dave’s hand on mine as I wanked, untilhe pushed it down a bit so that he was stroking my cock too! I sat therethinking about what Dave would think if I tried to stop him touching melike that, then realised I didn’t care – it felt good to have another man’shand on my cock, especially as Dave started to take control by changing mynatural pace.Greg gave a great sigh then and I saw his body relax. He let the girl downon to the floor, but stayed in her, his body sprawled all over he and herarms and legs sticking out from under him. The contrast between her jetblack skin and Greg’s tan made it somehow extra erotic.Before I could do or say anything Dave pushed his face close to mine andwhispered “I think you and I have some unfinished business…. Come on…”Still holding my cock he got slowly to his feet, and I really had no choicebut to do the same. He didn’t let go and led me across the room using mycock as if it was a handle almost, both of us shuffling a bit awkwardly aswe tried to stop our trousers and underwear from tripping us up.Dave led me in to what I assume was his bedroom. Very masculine – noornaments, just a couple of chests for his clothes, I suppose, and a bigbed. A very big bed. With very severe, dark grey bed linen. We stoodthere facing each other, Dave let go of my cock, put his hand behind myhead and pulled my face against his. His tongue pushed at my lips and Ihad no option but to open them to let him in, and then all of a sudden wewere kissing, kissing passionately. We were almost snarling, as if we weretigers, as with arms around each other we carried on kissing, really deepkissing, as if our tongues wanted to bury themselves in each othersthroats. We broke off, and almost tore each others shirts off in a frenzy.Dave’s head bobbed down and I cried out with the sheer unexpected shock ashe bit my nipples – not hard – but it was so sensual as his head swayedfrom side to side nipping at one and then the other. I began to laugh,laugh uncontrollably. No one had ever done this before and I had thisstrange feeling like when you’re tickled – you want it to stop, but youwant it to go on.He stopped, and hugged me close and half whispered “You like that, don’tyou? A lot of men do. Hasn’t anyone ever played with your tits before?”I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to look inexperienced. Soinstead I bent my head and took his left tit into my mouth. It was sostrange. The texture. The way it stiffened as I licked it. The salt tasteof the sweat on Dave’s skin. The faint tickling of his chest hair on mynose. I bit – gently enough I hoped – but was that little yelp from Davepleasure, or pain? I moved to his other tit, and did it again. Then movedup and this time it was my tongue demanding entrance to his mouth, mepulling us close together as if I wanted us to fuse into one. His body washot against mine, and my cock was twitching as all the movement was makingit rub against Dave’s (we are, as I’ve told you, about the same size).It was probably my inexperience that made us stumble as our feet were stillknotted in our trousers, and we fell back on the bed. But it was lucky,perfect really, because I was on top of Dave and as he sprawled there underme I was somehow reminded of Greg on top of the girl. I grabbed his wristsand pushed them down on to the bed, above his head, and began to kiss himagain, and then moved down and this time as I bit into his hard tits itwasn’t quite so gentle – Dave cried out, and struggled, but as you allknow, when you’re on top of another guy, even if he’s stronger than you butyou have his hands pinioned above his head, there’s not a lot he can doabout it as the mechanical advantage is all with you.His struggles aroused me eve more, and I plunged my face into his armpits.I was assailed by the sheer virility of the smell of his sweat and wantedto lie there and breathe it in deeply, but something drove me on and I sankmy teeth into the tender skin on the underneath of the top of his arms,getting more cries from Dave and little pleas to stop.I raised my head and looked down at him, conscious that I was pantingheavily, and recklessly laughing. I was so aroused and happy.”Enough…” He gasped, “Enough…. Let’s stop all this foreplay. My cock’sso fucking hard it’s painful….”I realised mine was too, and rolled off him so were side by side, on ourbacks. Down the length of my body I could see my cock rock hard, wavingabout a little as my breathing was so deep and heavy that my body wasmoving. And there was a big drool of pre-cum glistening in the light. Ididn’t know what to do next – was I expected to fuck him? But I didn’thave to worry. Dave sat up, then fell to his knees by the side of me andundid my shoes, pulled them and my socks off and then removed my bunched uptrousers and underpants. I lay there as he then got totally naked too,then threw himself down on to the bed, but this time with his head on thepillows. I realised my own head was now exactly at the same level as hiscock – a cock drooling pre-cum, as was my own.Look, I’ve tasted another man’s cock before. I guess we all have. It’ssomething all men do at least once, isn’t it? But I hadn’t done it for along time – it’s Greg who sucks mine, and I had never wanted to suck his.But this was different – I moved over a little, half sat up, then reacheddown and slowly and carefully let my tongue slide over Dave’s cock head,with its coating of pre-cum. He moaned. I let my tongue play around theflange of his cock, hearing him continue to moan softly as I did so, thenreally lapped at his frenulum, causing him to start to writhe gently underme.It felt good. So good. But what was I going to do next? I was used toseeing Greg gagging and choking as I pushed my cock down his throat, and Ididn’t want to be like that. So I stopped, and hauled myself up the bed sowe were face to face.”You didn’t have to stop…”, Dave said quietly.”I didn’t have to….. But I wanted to….” Well, that was the truth. Iwas almost desperate as I didn’t want him to think that I was inexperiencedand didn’t know what I was doing, I kissed him again. And then, feelingour cocks touch, reached down and worked them so that they were side byside, with my hand almost wrapped around them holding them together.Dave’s wiry pubes tickled my cock head, and I guess he was feeling the sameas we were so similar in size. It felt wonderful to have this warn, damp,slippery piece of him pressed all against me, and I stroked my hand slowly,a caress, really. Dave moaned. His hand joined mine. Clumsily at first,but then getting faster and pressing harder as our confidence and practicegrew, we wanked our cocks pressed together like that. And we both shot ourloads at the same time – I could feel some of Dave’s cum on my skin throughwhat I knew would be a sticky mess of my pubes. And I began to smile, thengrin, then quietly chuckle as I knew he would be in the same way, with mycum all over him.Dave put his other arm under his head and lay there, breathing heavily, aswas I. He was silent for a few seconds, which seemed like minutes. Thenwith a surprising agility he half rolled off the bed, stood up, pulled theduvet – hard – so that it came out from under me, threw himself down besideme again and pulled the duvet up over us – right over us, so our heads wereunder it too. He was laughing softly as he pulled us together, his handsliding up and down my sweat-soaked back. And as we moved the deliciousscent of sweat, cum and… and “male” I suppose you could say, drifted upthe bed at our noses. As we lay there in the darkness I could feel thebeating of his heart, and hear his breath. It felt so safe. I felt sosecure. It was so right.The next thing I remember was a stinging slap on my bum! I came awake,wondered for a moment where the fuck I was, then remembered. I wassprawled on my stomach, my head cradled in my arms, and there was Dave,standing over me, smiling down. He was naked, but his cock was now hangingdown normally. He was holding two mugs and I could smell tea. “sleepinglike a baby and snoring like a pig….””I don’t snore.””Well you give a remarkably good impression of it, then. Now, roll over,and make room for me….””Hey, my bum, it stings….””It’s meant to! Only way to get you awake. And I get a lot of practice ofslapping men’s asses, you know. Normally a whole lot harder, of course.And usually I use a strap. Perhaps we’ll try that one day. Now, shut thefuck up and do as you’re told – I want to get in beside you again and Ican`t do it with you sprawled all over the place.”We lay there on our backs then, propped up on the pillows, each holding amug of tea. I could feel the heat of his body all along mine. I reacheddown and stroked his cock and cupped his balls.”Fucking be careful, will you! I’ve got this hot tea here, and you’replaying with my balls…”I squeezed them gently, but not quickly so it was a surprise. Justrelentless slow pressure. “That’s for slapping my bum.”He turned his face to me and kissed me. “So, you like a bit of adventurein bed, do you? I’d marked you down as a pretty much vanilla kind ofbloke. Still, owning that magnificent piece of muscle, and then gettingthat other slave with that small tight ass…. Perhaps I should have knownyou liked a bit of everything.”I was pleased to hear him think I was experienced, but there was a nigglingworry, too, about where this was leading. “Yes, I guess so”, I muttered,trying to sound noncommittal.”So what shall we do when we’ve finished our tea, then? Who’s going tofuck who?” He smiled at me again, and added “Or should that be “who fuckswhom, for an educated bloke like you?” He paused a moment and went on “Orwe could of course have Timmy and that big slave of yours in here. Ihaven’t had a big muscular ass like your slave’s for a long time. And youcould fuck Timmy. That would be kind of fun – I have this big bed, but Idon’t often get another bloke who wants to play…””You don’t OFTEN get another… You mean you do have men who want to?””Jealous already, are you? And you and me haven’t even got really startedyet.”I could see a way out now. “I’d love to stop and teach you a few newtricks, but it will have to be another time.””Why?!”I’ve got a conference call…. I must take it.””It’s Sunday!””Well unlike you self-employed people, I have to work when my employerfixes things. Sorry, but it’s an important call…”He grinned. “Hey, it could be fun! Take your call, and I’ll lie herebeside you playing with you. Let’s see how you concentrate…”Fucking hell! This was serious. I might bed discovered now not only to bea bit naive in bed, but to have lied about a call. “Sorry, but it willhave to be another time… honest! There’s all kinds of stuff on my PC athome I need as we’re talking.”Before he could say another word I swung myself off the bed and started todress. It was kind of uncomfortable to have him watch me as I tried topull my underwear and trousers on, hopping from foot to foot. I’ve toldyou how I think it’s kind of erotic to see slaves doing that, and now itwas me doing it in front of Dave.He still lay there, then said casually “See yourself out – I’m still horny.Send Timmy in as you leave, will you? I’ll call you tomorrow and tell youhaw I’m getting on with that other slave of yours, and perhaps you can comealong tomorrow night and inspect progress…. And we could pick up where weleft off, afterwards!”I bend over and kissed him lightly, springing back as his hand snaked up totry and pull my head down. “Will do!”.When we got back to my flat Greg still seemed to be pretty pissed off. Andwhen I decided it was time for bed I snapped at him to take his shorts off- he has this tendency to not go around naked as a slave should, and whenhe lies there sucking my cock I think he doesn’t like it when I can see hiscock and bum. He did so with very bad grace, I think, and I told him thatthis was the last time I was going to tell him – if he was ever in mybedroom in shorts again he’d not only have to take them off but I wouldthen spank his bum. And I chortled as I reminded him how much Sam hadhated having Dave slap his bum, and how Jason had cried when being spanked,and went on to say how much fun I might have if I took my hand – or even aruler or something like that – to Greg’s hard muscles.This didn’t seem to please him at all, and he lay there with very badgrace, first stroking my cock and then with his usual hesitancy taking itbetween his lips as if it was something odious! Still, I am his owner, andI am in control, and when I felt myself beginning to cum instead of lettingGreg pull away and catch my cum as he normally did, I held the back of hishead firmly and shot into his mouth. And then of course he was even morepissed off.His mood continued the following morning when he seemed to make a point ofwalking around my bedroom naked – I know I’d said that he had to, butthere’s a huge difference between doing it naturally and properly, and sortof half-covering himself with a hand if he saw me looking, and scowling andsighing all the time. So I told him to start behaving properly and notacting like some sort of naive k**, and all I got was a surly “I am.””You’re acting properly, or you’re acting like some kind of naive k** andnot like a grown man? Anyway, I don’t like your attitude, so change it.You’re pissed off about yesterday….”I never got to finish my sentence as Greg cut it “Yes I am! I fucking wellam! It’s not right, making a man fuck like that, it’s….””Shut the fuck up. Right now! And let’s get something clear – you’reright, it wouldn’t be correct to make a man fuck a bitch in front ofyou. But you’re not a man, Greg, you’re a slave, my slave. And if I wantto see you fucking, whether it’s in front of me or in front of lots ofpeople as we;;, that’s exactly what you will do. Is that clear?”He still looked surly, so I went on “And in any case, I can’t see theproblem. You’re always telling me you’re so-called `straight’. You’realways talking about all the women you’ve fucked. You complain about nothaving any females around the place. And yet when I give you theopportunity to show us what you can do, you’re like this….”Greg went to interrupt me, but I was in no mood for an argument and simplywent on “But then you know, Greg, you’re always telling me things. Youtell me you don’t want me to sell you. So if I can’t believe all your stuffabout fucking, how can I believe that you don’t want me to sell you?”That shut him up! I know he lives in fear of losing his good life with meand being sold off at auction to some other owner who almost certainlywouldn`t treat him as well. That’s always a powerful tool in an owner’sarmoury of ways to deal with slaves. So we went about the rest of themorning’s business mostly in silence, but I was pleased to see that Gregwas at least “polite”, well, superficially so, anyway, and perhaps that’sthe best a slave owner can hope for.I resolved that when I spoke to Dave later in the day I’d have a word withhim about Greg – perhaps some short period of remedial retraining would dohim good. But then as I sat on the tube out to Canary Wharf my thoughtsturned about what exactly I was going to say to Dave anyway – he’d be sureto want me to go around there and pick up where we’d left off, and how wasI going to do that without letting on that I didn’t actually know what Iwas doing when it came to fucking (and even less about being fucked!). Soinstead of those few minutes for me to get in to the day properly, calmlyand coolly thinking about all that was to be done and how I was going toarrange it, I actually arrived far from calm.Mondays, if there’s no big deal going on, is totally boring. The morningis all regular weekly meetings, and as usual there’s not a lot to be doneby me. My people all know that it’s not acceptable to come to the meetingsnot having done all the things that they agreed to the previous week, orwith problems which they have not had some thoughts about how we mightresolve them. So I mostly sit there mildly bored. And today it was worse,as the “Dave problem” was still going around in my head.It didn’t get better when Sam stuck his head in after my last meeting andsaid “Dave has been on the phone a couple of times – shall I get him foryou?””No, hold off. I’ve got a couple of other things to do first.”Sam looked at me curiously, as he knows there weren’t any more things. Andso to confuse him I got up and walked out, telling him I’d be back laterand refusing to specify where I was going or how long I was going to be. Ilike to keep him guessing, like to make it clear that he doesn’t knoweverything!In fact I’d got nothing to do and nowhere in particular to go, so Isauntered to one of the best coffee places, a long way from our block so Iwould be unlikely to see anyone else from the company, and sat there doingthe Guardian crossword (which doesn’t take me long of course!) as I sippedmy Americano. And enjoying the sight of the young guys in the queue – theyall mostly come down without coats or jackets as a lot of the towers haveentrances directly into the mall so they don’t need them even if it’s coldor raining (or both, we are in London, remember). So with the currentfashion in men’s suits for them to be low-slung tight trousers, there’salways something interesting to see.When I got back to the office Sam was having some kind of argument with oneof the staff, so I simply went past into my own space and shut the door. Icould see through the glass that Sam was being very forceful, and Irecognised the man he was arguing with as one of the junior staff we’ddecided to let go during the HR part of our meetings earlier. He was a bitof a failed experiment, actually – we usually recruit only from Oxford,Cambridge, Imperial and the LSE, but some member of the board had queriedthis last year saying we ought to give some places to graduates from otherplaces “to make our diversity policy look as if it’s working!. Withoutmuch hope of success I’d agreed to pacify the board, but I knew it wasn’tlikely to work as firstly we need brain power, lots of it, and if you’vegot that, you’d be at one of our usual recruiting places, not Sussex as mymemory now reminded me this man was from. And then we like our recruits tobe “properly brought up”, as my parents would have said – to be smooth andaffable in conversation, to know how to circulate at cocktail parties, howto be properly deferential to senior management, to dress like a gentleman,and all those kind of things. And he was none of them. Indeed, seeing himstanding there waving his arms about as he argued with Sam I could see thathis suit was not from a proper city tailor but something from a chainstore, and he might even be wearing a polyester tie and not silk! Asusual, I though, I’d been right. But at least at the next board meeting Icould say that we had tried.I had started reading some tedious research paper on my screen – and haddecided to forward it to someone telling them to prepare a summary for me -when my door burst open and the man strode in, pursued of course by Sam.”I need to speak to you, sir”, he half shouted at me.”Make an appointment.””I’ve been trying, all last week. My manager won’t listen. His managerwon’t either. So I decided to come direct to you, and now this lad…” hehalf turned and sort of motioned at Sam “…won’t let me in. He saysyou’re too busy. Well, you don’t look it!””I am too busy. Sam manages my diary.””Too busy to miss out on the biggest deal to hit this century? Well I wasthinking of quitting, and this proves I’m right. If I can`t get my ideaslistened to here, I’m off somewhere they will be. Any you’ll all lookfucking stupid in the FT when the news finally breaks and it turns out youmissed it. Like the man who didn’t sign The Beetles.”As you probably are aware, it’s OK to think words like “fuck”. And withmen like Dave to use them. Or to use them socially, or in the pub. Butabsolutely not in the offices of a huge respectable financial institutionlike us. So this was another example of how he didn’t quite “fit”. But onthe other hand he was quite good looking in a rather rough sort of way.And perhaps he did have an idea. And he was right about one thing – wealways have to be careful about our reputation. So I said “Five minutes.Convince me, or you’re out – fired, that is. I won’t tolerate behaviourlike this in the office.””I’m Ian, sir….””I know that. I know all the staff. Get on with it.”He looked at Sam, and said “It’s highly confidential.””Sam is my PA. He knows everything about my work. Get on with it, as Isaid.”Well I won’t bore you with all the details, but he started to tell me abouta huge scheme he’d heard about that involved a major, but major,restructuring of one of the US’s biggest – if not the biggest – financialinstitutions, with various parts being spun off, or merged, or closed down.”…and there have to be opportunities for us there, sir. If we get inearly. Either to be a part of it, working with them on the restructuringfor huge fees, or even better, going into the markets now to buy stuffthey’ll need to round out the new venture, or future-sell stuff they’ll bedumping, or….””I’m aware of how to make money when you have advance information. But howdo you know all this?””I got a hint from this woman I’m shagging. She’s head of operationsat….””No way!”, Sam cut in. “He’s bullshitting, sir. She was at your `CityInfluencers’ dinner last month. She’s at least fifteen years older thanhim. No way would….”Ian grinned. “Well as it happens, I have a thing for older women – I likea woman with a bit, no, a lot, of experience. Someone who’ll be properlygrateful. And you could say there are a lot of ladies that like me, too -especially when they see the `thing’ I have for them.”He smiled a his own cleverness in using the word “thing” twice withdifferent meanings and went on “She wouldn’t tell me anything really, butwe were supposed to be having our one month anniversary shag this week – Iwas at your dinner, not actually eating, but at the reception first whichis where we met – and she went to New York instead. And I can tell you, itmust be pretty important or she’d never have missed out on what we wereplanning here….”I smiled, to show I was at least understanding of how a young man like himmight spend his spare time. “Anyway”, he went on “We bought up that travelcompany last year and haven`t sold it yet, and it turns out they do all thetravel arrangements for her company – it’s compulsory, they all have to useit, even the execs. So I went over to the travel company`s offices andstarted to ask a few questions.” He stopped a moment and added “I thinkthere’s a complaint on its way to you, sir, as they didn’t want to tell meanything, something about `confidentiality’, so I had to remind them whoowns them, and….””Quite. Get on with it…””Anyway, everybody – everybody who’s anybody, at least, is in the USA. Andwhat’s more they’re not staying in their usual hotels. One of the bookerstold me she’d had them on the phone saying the hotels the system booksautomatically to get them the corporate discount were not suitable, andthey demanded places more discrete, not near Wall Street, or midtown. Sothat seemed odd. So then I looked a bit closer and they were booking allthese meeting rooms and stuff as well…. So I rang the places in the US,pretending to be going, and asking to check the other names…. And hen Ifound out who all these meetings were with…”I was getting intrigued now and nodded for him to continue.”Well after that I got Research here to run some numbers, detailed numbers,that is, and things seem to be going a bit wrong with their operations….””All this is very interesting, but hardly proof that there’s a huge dealabout to happen….””Well, sir, don’t you think it’s worth while doing a bit of digging…?”To my surprise Sam cut in “I know some guys in their UK operations. Weplay football every Thursday night. They haven’t been their usual cheeryselves in the showers afterwards, haven’t been splashing out on thechampagne – it’s been beer, like the rest of us. It could be that they’reworried.””How well do you know these people, Sam?””Well, as I said, we play football, have done for three years. And I knowthem as well as any bloke I’ve been naked with…” He grinned.I looked at my watch. “It’s 11:30. This is what we will do. Ian, youcall your woman in the USA – I assume you’ve got her mobile as you’ve been,as you say, `shagging’ her. Pump her for anything she knows. Tell heryou’re missing her, you’re missing her body, or whatever you usually tellher, ask when she’s coming back, say you’re desperately horny, offer to gothere for the weekend for fun and sex…. Anything to get her talking. Andfind out more of her plans. And you, Sam – call up one of your naked matesand offer to take him out to lunch, no expense spared. See what you canfind out. If he’s worried about losing his job, offer to put in a goodword for him here…. And we’ll meet again at 16:00, here.”I motioned for them to go, and added “And Sam, call Dave and tell him I amnot able to speak to him today as I am snowed under, but that he is toproceed with the business we discussed…. And clear my diary for the restof the day. Absolutely no interruptions.”Sam nodded, and I could see the advantage of having a PA who really knew mybusiness! And I had postponed, at least for the time being, needing to doanything about Dave. It’s funny, isn’t it – normally I’m the kind ofperson who takes the bull by the horns, as the old saying goes. I’llalways have the difficult meeting, always make the dreadful call no oneelse wants to do. And here I was, not calling a slave dealer, who I couldpersonally buy out ten times over if I wanted to. And now feeling goodabout not calling, because I’d managed to find an excuse – an excuse formyself, that is, for not doing so. How much effort would it really havebeen to pick up the phone myself – and yet I’d put it off.I spent the time then ding my own research – tapping my own network ofcontacts. And doing so skilfully, as of course whilst trying to find outwhat they might know, I had to be careful not to reveal what I might know,or, indeed, that I knew anything at all. And it was very inconvenient nothaving Sam there: I decided to work through lunch and when I needed asandwich one of the other secretaries had to be sent out to my favouriteplace (the ones in the staff restaurant were not good), and she did notknow exactly what to order to cater for my special likes and it camewithout the thin slivers of my favourite gherkins to add piquancy.When we got together at 16:00 – Sam and Ian both looked very excited and Ihad to tell them to calm down so I could filter out what they knew, in thesense of having been told it, from what they were surmising from the way ithad been told to them. Added to the stuff from my own sources, it didindeed seem as if something might be on he cards. I therefore decided todo something I had not done for three years, since I last had had anycontact with him having worked on a deal with him (or, rather, for him),and dialled the “private” number of Cyrus Williams. For those of you whodo not know of him, that simply shows how powerful the man is – no mentionof his name, or his wealth, or his power, ever appears in the press. Whensomething needs to be done publicly about one of his holdings, it’s the CEOof the corporation who is told to do it, not Cyrus.I listened to the phone rang out, then as soon as it answered I picked upmy end as I hate “conference calls”. Yes, Sam and Ian might know more ifthey could hear the call, but that’s not my way of working.It was gratifying to see he knew my name still, so my number must be in hisphone. And he remembered our work, as he said at once “Three years, nocontact.””Yes, Cyrus. I would only contact you if there was something important, asyou know. And there is. I’d like to discuss…””Not on the phone. These days you can’t be too careful. Lunch in myprivate dining room, tomorrow.””13:00? Sorry… 1 p.m. ? Assuming the morning flight’s not late….”,and that was that.”Get me on the 08:00 from Heathrow”, I said to Sam. “And a limo tomidtown.””Address?””I’ll tell the driver in the car.””It’s very short notice, the 08:00’s usually full, especially in firstclass….””Sam, just do it. I’ll slum it in business class if I have to. And anywaythere’s almost certainly someone in this company going on that flight, andif it’s fully booked, tell him he’s no longer going. I surely don’t have totell you how to do your job!””Make that two tickets”, Ian said to Sam. “You never know, sir. I couldhook up with my woman, sir. Who knows what I might find out.”I was warming to Ian. As I’ve said, he had a certain kind of rugged – no,perhaps “thuggish” appearance. He was thick and muscular, and I guessed hemay have has a tough c***dhood as he had that kind of look of hardnesscoupled with an underlying vulnerability about his face. And I like a manwho sees a chance, and goes for it.This kind of semi-erotic thinking was doing me no good though, especiallyas Sam was standing there with his nice little bum stuck out, and Iremembered how appealing it had looked when bare, with Dave’s hand print onit when he’d slapped him playfully in the photo session – good god, was itonly two days ago? I’ve learned by now to always trust my instincts, andsomething was telling me there might be more excitement to come with Sam,so I said casually “Any you’d better come too, Sam. I might need someon-the-spot stuff done, and we’d better be careful about phones and e-mailand things – there’s so much at stake here, as this is the biggest of bigbusiness, that I don’t think we can really trust the American spyingagencies to stick completely to the law.”Sam looked delighted – I don’t suppose he’d ever been away on companybusiness before. “Oh, and you and Ian – business class! The firm’s notmade of money. And I don’t want to hear any rubbish about it being soldout so you had to go first with me.””We’d better take Ted, too, sir”, Ian cut in again.”Who’s he?””He’s my mate in IT. He does all sorts of stuff for me, finds out thingsyou never even thought existed. He’s in Security, really, but who knowsbetter about how to get around all that stuff than someone who works withit all the time?”Interesting, I thought. So we’ve got people in out IT department bustcircumventing all the controls we have. Or perhaps even going out andhacking other people’s stuff. We could be deep in he shit…. But perhapsit would be useful. So I’ll pretend I didn’t know, I thought, and when thescandal broke, if it did, it would all be “Shocked that such things couldhappen. No knowledge of it…., etc.” I nodded to show my agreement.That night as he packed my bag for the trip Greg was in a sour mood again,muttering on about never going anywhere himself. And I had to remind himthat, probably a reaction to their experience in the nineteenth century,the USA was one of the few civilised (well, half civilised) places on theplanet which had not reintroduced slavery. So if Greg arrived there hewould, by definition, be a free man. And I’d probably be arrested forbeing a slave owner, or something! It didn’t make any sense, of course -they were not going to arrest me on arrival for being a slave owner ofslaves in London, so why should it be different if the slave was in NewYork?”So would that be such a bad thing, for me to be free?””For you, Greg, probably not. But you can’t be sure. After all, youdidn’t manage all that well when you were free, you did get yourselfenslaved! So who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again if you were free? Butit’s not going to happen, anyway – you’re too valuable and I could get atidy sum for you if I sold you, and I don’t throw money away, you knowthat.””It’s fucking unfair!”, he mumbled.”Unfair? What’s unfair? You broke the rules. You were enslaved. What’sunfair about that?”It’s not so bad flying the Atlantic if you’re in first class, althoughthere’s not a lot to look at – the stewards get to be in first through somesort of seniority process, and so most of them are older than me. Andalthough they look as if they like men, they’re definitely far from beingthe kind of hard muscled, lithe young men I like. Indeed, I want a manwho’s a proper man, not some sort of “queer”. The limo driver who met usthough was interesting, and I couldn’t help thinking that if he had beenwearing only a slave collar as he drove us into the city how much moreinteresting it would have been.Although we had a hotel booked and I had been planning to go directly toCyrus’s office first, the driver seemed to know differently and said thatMr Williams had instructed him to take us directly to his penthouseapartment.Look, I have a pretty nice place in Westminster, as I’ve told you. But thebuilding we drew up at, fronting the park, was something else. It musthave been dramatically expensive, as unlike so many other buildings in thearea it was still only ten stories high and had not been torn down to buildnewer, much higher places. I dated it as from the 1930s, and its decor wasabsolutely perfect – clearly a fortune was spent to keep it that way. Avery discrete doorman ushered us to the desk of a “house manager” whochecked and said that we were expected, and in turn ushered us into anelevator marked “penthouse” – which, incredibly, had an elevator operator,I suppose in keeping with the 1930s mood of the place! How much money wasall this costing, I wondered. A private elevator and a private elevatoroperator.Cyrus greeted me warmly, and although I introduced Sam, Ted and Ian, heclearly wasn’t interested in them and simply nodded. He took us throughinto a simply enormous living room with panoramic views over the park, andI complimented him on it.”Yes, not a lot of these apartments were ever built. They were expensiveeven then. And now…. Well, anyway, I like space. And there are not alot of places overlooking the park with eight bedrooms.”I couldn’t believe it! I mean, I was rich. But this was wealth on analtogether different scale. At that point a servant opened the door and awoman came in, and Cyrus introduced us. Mrs Williams – who Cyrus said atonce I should call Anastasia – was simply stunning. She was about the sameage as me, I guessed, so half that of Cyrus. She was so simply dressedthat her outfit must have cost thousands and thousands, and the onlyornamentation she wore was a diamond ring – a single stone – which, if itwere genuine, and I assumed it was, would have been worth millions. To goalong with all of this she had flawless skin (or was extremely carefullymade up to achieve perfect naturalness), and her blond hair looked sonatural it must be natural, as no hairdresser could achieve that withdye. Although he must be good at his job as it was so perfectly coifed thatnot a hair was out of place.In turn I introduced her to Sam, Ted and Ian, and I could see that Ian wasalmost open mouthed with astonishment. And perhaps there’s something inthis “a****l magnetism” thing, as in turn Anastasia held Ian’s hand as theyshook for at least five seconds longer than she had of either me, Ted orSam.Waiters served a light lunch in a dining room capable of seating at leasttwenty, and afterwards Cyrus took me off to his study, simply tellingAnastasia to “see that his people got everything they wanted”, and Isuggested they went off to our hotel.”I asked you here”, Cyrus began, “As I do know something’s afoot. And it’sso big that if we’re going to make money it must be absolutely secret. TheFeds are so scared of any ruckus in the financial situation on this scalethat they’d do anything to stop the carefully-crafted plan I assume they’reexecuting from going wrong.” He leaned forward conspiratorially andcontinued “And of course that’s what we need to do, to make the killing ofthe century – to have our plans execute instead and for theirs to go wrong,horribly wrong. Irrespective of the consequences. So this is the only safeplace we can meet and work – it’s swept for bugs daily, every piece ofcommunication in and out is encrypted, and so on and so on. And whilst thefinancial authorities can swoop on any office in the city, a man’s home isstill pretty sacrosanct.”Well, from that start, we pooled what we knew. And as we were bothexperienced, sharp operators, we soon had a list of things we needed toknow, and things to be done. We discussed how all this was going tohappen, and I suggested that we kept the team small, pointing out that Samwas a “fixer”, Ian could be sent out to get information from women, as wellas doing other research, and Ted was possibly the best hacker not ingovernment service.So that was that, and Cyrus “suggested” we all move in, to keep us allworking close and enhance security. I nodded agreement, he picked up aphone and told his chauffeur to go to our hotel, pick up the three men andall the luggage, to tell them to check out, and to get back here.It was an exciting and exhilarating time for all of us. I can only sketchout for you all the things that went on during our first days in theWilliams’ apartment. Cyrus and I kept Ian and Sam at work constantly -eighteen hours were not uncommon – as we got them to dig out data tosupport or disprove our theories of what was happening. Cyrus never seemedto be off the phone, with very “oblique” calls to his many associates notonly in the USA but in London, Frankfurt, Tokyo, Beijing. Ted was like ak** in seventh heaven when at the end of the first day when he mentioned hehad not got sufficient “puff” (he used some technical term) in his massivelaptop, and a mass of other specialised equipment that would make his lifeeasier, we simply told him to order whatever he needed.”But sir”, he told me. “I’ve been asking for some of this kit for monthsin London and they never order it because Financial Controls say it wasn’tin this year’s budget and we have to make a business case and….””Just get it. But is there much?””Oh yes – if you want me to access other company’s stuff, I’ll need….””Stop! Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to HEAR about any i*****lactivity. Simply order whatever is needed, and don’t fuss about thebudget. I am authorising the expenditure. And on second thoughts, though,perhaps you should not order it and have it delivered here – isn’t theresome street or other where you could go and buy it, and pay cash, and thenbring it back here in a cab?””Yes, sir, but the money…. It’s thousands and thousands…”I tossed him my corporate charge card. “The secret number’s 0000. Chargesome of the “simple” stuff by all means. But stop off at a bank, no,perhaps two or three banks, and draw out cash for the rest.”He looked astonished at all of this as I snapped “Sam, call finance inLondon and tell them to tell the card company there will be unusualexpenditure and that it is all to be approved, without question. ALL.WITHOUT QUESTION.”Sam nodded and I looked at Ted and simply said “So what are you waitingfor?”That was about all we needed to do except to unpack – which as I wastravelling light as I knew I could order anything we needed in New York,was easy to do even without a slave. I had a huge master suite withbathroom, of course, but Cyrus’s major domo apologised that because therewas remedial work going on some of the other guest bathrooms were out ofaction, and I told him it didn’t matter at all – the three young men whowere my associates could all share, and even share bedrooms if necessary.As well as the thrill of the work therefore I did over the next few dayshave the occasional pleasure of seeing one or other of the men coming andgoing to the bathroom, and it seemed to be some sort of badge of honourwith them to do so with only a towel wrapped around their waists (althoughI felt certain that Cyrus’s staff would have provided robes if asked -there was certainly one in my bathroom). But I wasn`t going to tell themthis as I find the sight of young men wearing only towels, with all theexcitement that suggests as they let them fall, rather erotic.We soon established a pattern to our work – one room was set aside for Tedto set up what appeared to be a small mountain of equipment he hadacquired, and then he rarely left it. We sent him requests forinformation, and he responded. And occasionally he would come up withstuff of his own – he had got access to all sorts of information heprobably should not have, and could, for example, tell us about unusualvolumes of voice calls to and from sets of phones, and other high-levelthings like that which indicated where deals were possibly being set up ordiscussed.Ian was “encouraged” to make contact with his woman, but that had to bedone very, very gently so as not to raise her suspicions. So he had a”weekend” in New York, then could not see her again until the next weekendwhen he told her he had flown the Atlantic again as he was so desperate tosee her! With all the analysis work going on he did look suitably tired,although Sam told me that Ian had said that he was not so tired that hewasn’t able to perform “in the usual way” when they met! It truly wasastonishing what we managed to learn from Ian’s encounters – he never askeddirect questions, of course, but after strenuous sex when they were lyingnuzzling and laughing and chatting, she couldn’t help but give awayinformation about who was meeting who, who she’d seen at dinner in thehotel she was staying at, and stuff like that. It turned out he’dforgotten lots of little details when I subjected him to interrogationafter the first meeting, so for the second one (and a third!) I insisted hetook a voice recorder with him – Ted went out and bought some “secret”stuff that was ultra sensitive, so it could stay in Ian’s pocket and couldstill pick up everything when he stripped off. All of us – except Ian -enjoyed listening to the playback, although as it went on and on, he seemedto cheer up as Sam and Ted were clearly impressed with the sounds they weremaking.It was interesting to see that Anastasia seemed to be rather more than anornament, as Cyrus did tell her the outline of what was going on, and Iheard her asking him on several occasions if he’d asked the opinion of X orthat Y was the expert on something and had she been asked, and so on.Cyrus did confide in me that she was very good “socially”, and that men hada habit of talking to her at the numerous social functions they had toattend and were not always discrete!About ten days into our work when we were scheduled for another late night,Anastasia came in and told Cyrus that they absolutely had to go to theseason’s big charity ball for all the major powers in finance. It wasimpossible of course for us to break off, but Cyrus thought that she shouldgo, and she was reluctant. “It’s not a problem as such”, she told him.”But I hate getting out of the limo without an escort. And the seatingplan on the top table…”Cyrus suggested that I should go with her, as it would be good for me tomeet some of our peers, but I did not want to break the flow of work and inany case thought it might draw attention to my presence in the city. So Isuggested that Ian could perhaps do it “He scrubs up well, I’m told, and wecan get him the right kit….”That Friday night therefore Cyrus, Sam and I were together, and Ted was inhis work room, as Ian was out escorting Anastasia. We had a brief break inour work, and Cyrus said casually “You know, I do envy you…. Being aslave owner.””It’s not all that much fun. They can be a bit of a challenge, you know.I mean, even though there are some skilled people enslaved, I can’t reallyuse them in the business as there’s no means of motivating them. Whatwould a slave do with bonuses? And in personal life, it can be hard tofind a slave who’s `compatible’ – who can work for you properly, anticipateyour needs, do everything with the same care and attention you’d do themyourself. I had several failed attempts which caused huge inconvenience -no clean shirts, my favourite suit not collected from the dry cleaner forthe day of the Annual General Meeting – stockholder’s meeting, Cyrus -secretly drinking my finest wine, not exercising properly so they lostmuscle tone, all those kind of things. I suppose I was fortunate toultimately buy my current slave, Greg, although I do need to keep firmcontrol as with his background – he was in special forces – and his age -he’s older than me – he can be a bit argumentative. And it took him sometime to understand that it’s not him who makes the running sexually. Hestill keeps telling me he’s `straight’ and likes to think of himself as a`top’ Although like most owners I insist he’s totally available whenever Ifeel frustration coming on, and that he does whatever I feel like doing.””So how do you discipline him…. Starvation, whipping, electricity….?””Oh Cyrus, think about it! Starving a slave really isn’t very successfulwhen he’s a domestic slave – too much food around all the time.Electricity – well you can, I suppose. But it’s too technical, too manythings to do – you’ve got to get the equipment out, all those wires,clips… And a bit of a danger of overdoing it and killing theslave… It’s not really something you can do spontaneously.””…and then being convicted?””No, actually. You can’t wilfully execute a slave without a court order -we’re not barbarians after all – but a slave dying accidentally, especiallywhen it’s being disciplined… there’ll be an investigation, but that’susually all. I was really saying it’s the lack of spontaneity – if you’veever had a puppy, you’ll know that when it does something wrong you need topunish it immediately as the dog can’t relate its actions to a laterpunishment. A slave’s a bit like that – by the time you’ve got all theelectro stuff ready it’s mostly forgotten what it was doing wrong. I thinkelectro is mainly for porn films, as I don’t know of any owners whoactually use it for everyday discipline.””So whipping, then… ?””Again, it’s not very spontaneous. And not a lot of homes have room for awhipping frame to hold the slave in a good position. You can send theslave to a public whipmaster, of course – but then there’s the loss ofvalue in your property, as its hide tends to be damaged. And even if thedamage does not show on the surface, when you run your fingers over theslave’s hide you can feel unpleasant little ridges and so on. “Cyrus nodded, and I went on “But fortunately with Greg all I need to do isoccasionally remind him of the need to perform perfectly, or else I willsell him. He’s a sensible fellow, and knows that whilst he might not likebeing used by me, it could be far, far worse. There are some men who go tothe public sex places you know who specifically ask for ex-soldiers orex-policemen and so on… To take their revenge!””Public sex places? How sordid London has become since I was last thereall those years ago.””Not at all, really. At least now it’s out in the open, properlycontrolled and licensed. All clean and hygienic. All taxed. No clientsripped off. No danger…. I would imagine that the same places exist herein New York, as the needs of the clients don’t change, but they will beseedy, dangerous…..”Cyrus smiled and could see I was making sense (as I always do, obviously).I got out my phone then and showed him a picture of Greg, and he gave a lowwhistle – it was a shot of Greg in his slave shorts, the tiny slave shortsthat really do show off his belly to good advantage, and I was amused tosee Cyrus take the phone from me and expand the image so he was staring atGreg’s treasure trail, at the wisps of his cropped pubes poking above thewaistband, and the very visible outline of Greg’s cock through the thinfabric.I took the phone back and flipped the image to show a back view of Greg,naked this time. And I pointed out my hand mark on Greg’s left buttock. “Ihaven`t had to give him a proper spanking as such, but occasionally I slaphis bum – butt – really hard to remind him of what I can do.””Anyway”, I continued as I saw Cyrus was really interested now “Greg isn’ta problem. He understands me and knows what I expect. It`s my otherslave, my new slave, Jason, that will be the problem.””Will be?””Yes. He’s an escaped slave, that I recaptured. And I expect far moreproblems. He won’t escape again, obviously, but young slaves – he’s twentyeight – haven’t learned that they need to think to the future. And he’ssharp and clever, so he’ll try to outwit me. And he’s another of those menwho have not learned that it’s what I want that matters, not what theywant! Still, I’m having some of that fixed.””How?””He’s at a slave place that is fitting a `chip’ in him, so if he does run,we can locate him fairly easily. It’s the same system you can have forexpensive cars. You have to pay a yearly premium for the service, though.And I’m having him branded so that if ever he appears in public he’ll beinstantly recognisable – a small one on the shoulder, but a big one on hisbutt. So no gyms, no chance of sex with a girlfriend or anything like thatwhere he’d have to be mostly naked.””But good to look at….””Oh yes. That’s what first attracted me to him. He was a free man, Ithought, until I glimpsed his SIN – Slave Identification Number – that gotme started. And I think the big `S’ on his butt will be very, veryexciting. I’m planning to have him mostly naked around the house.”Cyrus looked at me long and carefully and went on “So I suppose you pity methen, without slaves?””Not at all. I imagine you’re sufficiently well off that you pay theservants around here enough to attract the best. So you have excellentstandards of service, no surliness, no inappropriate remarks….””Yes. But no nakedness, either.””Well I could imagine that you can have that any time you want. There mustbe women….” I hesitated and then went on “…or men… who would come inand strip off.””Yes, there are. But there’s the risk. You’ll know that scandal isabsolutely no good in our business. And a lot of those people who wouldhire out their bodies might simply be very astute – once they saw who Iwas, or even came here and recognised how wealthy I must be, they couldwell try blackmail.””Oh it’s not necessarily like that. You can get young free men to stripfor you without risk of unpleasantness.”Cyrus looked inquisitively at me. “Yes, men around our offices, where thethought of the way you can promote them, open the way to fantastic careersand stupendous wealth, would outweigh any short term advantage inblackmailing you. And you’d have the extra excitement of being able tolook them over first, see how they look clothed. And of knowing that theywere reasonably educated, and clean….””No, I find it hard to believe that that would work.”I had to think quickly. In my business trust and respect is everything.If Cyrus was expressing disbelief about this, might he start to doubtanything else I told him?”Take young Sam here. A nice young man, I’m sure you’ll agree. And a nicetight pert little bum – butt – that I used to look at many times in theoffice until I decided I wanted to see more of it.” I looked hard at Sam,who was forming the word “no” silently and went on “So if you like, asthere’s no one else around, I could discipline him as he’s been a bitcheeky lately. He’s got a big family that’s keen on young Sammy behavingproperly, and they’re grateful if a respected employer continues with whathe learned at home. Aren’t they, Sammy?”I though that was good, switching from “Sam” which was what I always calledhim to the diminutive “Sammy” which was what Dave used. And reminding abouthis family, as Dave had threatened him with his mother! Sam looked kind ofappalled, kind of hesitant. So I continued “Come on, Sammy – off with thatshirt and let Mr Williams have a better look at you. You’ve got nothing tobe ashamed of, I know…. I’ve seen you before, remember? And we’re all menhere. You don’t want me to have to report back after our trip that you didnot behave all that well, do you?”To my huge relief I could see my coded threats were working, as Sam slowlystarted to unbutton his shirt and pull it out from his trousers. I thinkCyrus was surprised as his naked torso appeared, as like most EnglishmenSam did not bother with a T or anything underneath. I then had Sam pose abit, standing there showing off his neat body to us – he goes to the gym,as I’ve told you, and at his age there’s something particularly delightfulI always think in seeing young muscle being stretched.Once his shirt was off, I began to feel easier. Sam now had no realobjection he could possibly put forward as I then told him to kick off hisshoes and drop his trousers. And there he was, in those appealing littlebrief shorts he wore – very sexy the way there were so tight over his ass,and the short legs emphasised his thighs. He did a few more poses, and itwas as if he was almost revelling in the power he thought he had over ustwo older men as we sat there as if transfixed by the sight. But Idisabused him of this when I said quietly “OK, Sammy. The big reveal. Offwith those shorts. You’ve excited us enough with that bulge….””No, sir, please….””Sammy! Do as I tell you. I really don’t want to have to tell your unclewho will tell your mother about how uncooperative you are”.Sam looked uncertain, very uncertain, as if he was thinking of some excuse.So I went on “Is there a problem, Sammy? You’re not ashamed of your cockare you? I’ve seen it before, remember, and I know you’ve got nothing tobe ashamed of? You stripped off for me and Dave, so do it again… And doit now, unless you have some good reason for making me even more annoyedthan I am. So get them off.”I turned to Cyrus and added “There are some disadvantages in having freemen of course – Sammy here is playing hard to get, I think. Teasing us. Heforgets he works for me, wants to be promoted…”Slowly and reluctantly Sam put his thumbs under the waistband of his shortsand began to push them down. He was semi-erect as he had to manoeuvre themover his cock, and it seemed that as he did so, whether because of thestimulation or because it was somehow now “free”, he went properly hard,and like all young men tend to, his cock was way above the horizontal!Realising what was happening he scrabbled to try to cover himself and stoodthere in that awkward-looking hunched up position men have to adopt withtheir hands cupping themselves. And it was of course not very successful.”Sammy, stop being a prude!” I raised my voice now. “I’ve told you we’reall men here, and all men have erections. Now stop being so fucking stupidand let Mr Williams see you properly.”Slowly Sam raised his hands, but, somewhat disappointingly, he began tolose his erection. Still I could see Cyrus’s eyes following every move hemade as he did a few more “poses” and turned around and back as Iinstructed him. So we could see his bum and the way his shoulders made thestart of that exciting “V” down to it”You see, Cyrus, how tricky it can be even with a man like Sam who hasworked with me for some time? I am somewhat disappointed with him, and ifyou were not here I’d be inclined to punish him a little”.Cyrus looked astonished, and I went on “When you have a free man workingfor you and acting as if he was a slave, you need to follow through. And Iexpect he will feel the same thing, and so expect to be disciplined if hefails to obey. And Sam here was very slow to do as I told him a fewmoments ago, and so I am inclined to discipline him. I patted my knees andsaid quietly “Come on, Sammy….””No!””Sammy, over my knee! NOW. Any further argument and it will be the worsefor you. And much, much worse when we get back to London, as we assuredlywill. The money you owe….”Sam was almost in a daze as he began to do as I had told him. He came overto me, knelt beside my legs, then half bent his body forwards so his backwas parallel to the floor. I gave him a couple of fairly hard slaps on hisbum, not particularly seriously as he was not absolutely in the correctposition for spanking. But when I stopped and he scrambled to this feet Isaw that he was half erect again now.”Interesting.” Cyrus now spoke again. “Interesting. Rather like play.You’re obviously a kind man, as a couple of little taps like that barelystung, I would think.” Something else was going on here I sensed. Cyrushad been hiding something, hiding it very skilfully so far.”You’re right, as ever, Cyrus. I’m tired – all this work must be gettingat me and he clearly isn’t even wincing – yet But perhaps you would like totry, help me out? As you say, perhaps it wasn`t really very much forSam….”Cyrus moved his legs and his tone changed completely as he snapped “Here,boy! Over my knees. And be quick about it!”To my amazement Sam obeyed. Perhaps he was overawed by Cyrus. Perhaps hewas still in some sort of “obeying” mode. He moved swiftly to kneel besideCyrus’s knees, as he had mine, and bent his back forward.”No!”, Cyrus snapped at him, striking him a casual blow on his ass as hespoke. “Right over! Properly. Head down, hands on the floor! I want yourass in the air, for proper access.”Sam shuffled forwards, and Cyrus opened his knees slightly so that Sam’scock could fall between them, then closed them firmly together. My owncock was raging now as I imagined how it must feel for Sam to have his cockheld almost as if it was in a vice, experiencing Cyrus’s trousers againsthis naked skin. And my cock got even more painfully hard as Cyrus began tospank him – I could see at once as that Cyrus must have done this before,as he grasped Sams’s neck firmly with one hand, forcing him to keep hishead down, as the other hand relentlessly rained blows down on San’s bum.Sam wriggled and squirmed and began to shout, then scream, and finally sobloudly and uncontrollably. I learned a lesson as I watched – whilstCyrus’s hand on Sam’s neck half held him down, Sam could have escaped if hehad tried. So it must be some sort çanakkale escort bayan of psychological restraint that washappening, triggered by being naked across the lap of a much older man andbeing held by the neck.Finally Cyrus stopped, and simply pushed Sam off on to the floor, where helay curled up, still sobbing. His bum was aflame from the power of Cyrus’shand. It was like one of those old master paintings called something like”the slave boy at the feet of the emperor”.”You’re right!”, Cyrus remarked to me. “You can discipline a free man. ButI still envy you to have the power to do that to a slave, whenever youwant, without having to make special arrangements, without having thatnagging fear that the free man might react unfavourably, either at thetime, or later. Still, very satisfying nevertheless. “He kicked at Sam as he lay there – no, that’s the wrong word. He nudged athim with his shoe, as if Sam’s naked body was now something vaguelydistasteful. “Off to bed, young man. We have important business todiscuss still tonight.”Sam struggled to his feet, and he was now totally erect. Pre-cum wasleaking from his cock, and I glanced at Cyrus’s trousers and could see aslime of it there, too, where Sam had been lying. Sam went to pull on hisshorts, and now Cyrus barked “I told you to go to bed! Not to dress! Justfucking obey. Now take your stuff and get out, unless you`d like to feelmore of my hand!”Sam obeyed, picking up his clothes and showing us his ass nicely as he didso, then strode out of the room, still weeping and sniffling. It’s good tosee the male body in action like that, I think.”Now, down to business”, Cyrus said. “Just you and me – let’s discusstactics. And thank you for that – I haven’t had so much fun in years.You’ve quite revived me, and as you seem to be able to do this in Londonwith a free man, even when there are slaves around, you’ve got me thinkingthat perhaps I’ve been a little too conservative here.””Before we begin…. You were obviously no stranger…. yourtechnique….””Oh yes. In my young days…. It all began at college – university to you- the frat brothers – I don’t think you have that in the UK – could bequite, shall we say `firm’, in maintaining discipline in the frat house.But as I got on in business it became too risky…. A pity really, asphysically controlling another man is so much more satisfactory than thesort of indirect control I suppose I have over thousands now because I owntheir employers and they owe me their livelihoods.”I nodded, and smiled. And felt that I had forged another bond with Cyrusas I doubt that he had shared that with anyone else for years.The following morning I heard a noise outside my room and opened my door tocatch a glimpse of the men going off to their bathroom – Ian and Sam hadtheir usual towels wrapped around their waists and the noise was becauseSam was laughing and joshing Ian about the marks all over his back – itwasn’t hard to see the were fingernail scratches, lots of them, and Samsuddenly pulled Ian’s towel off and we could see they went all over his bumtoo! Ian didn’t seem at all embarrassed – well, he was very, very wellhung and has a very nice muscular body – and indeed seemed proud as he said”She’s a real tiger in bed, with claws to match. Until I tamed her, thatis!””You, tame a woman? You need someone with real experience, like me, to dothat”, Sam countered. “Us East End men wouldn’t put up with any of thatfrom the start. We know what we like, and that the woman’s there to doit… Not to use you like some cat’s scratching post….”I was amused by this as I saw Sam had recovered his usual spirit. So Iquickly reached out and snatched at Sam’s towel, which fell to thefloor. And as he bent down to pick it up Ian and I could both see hisflaming read ass. I nodded at Ian, who laughed out loud as Sam tried tocover himself. “So, Mr so-called expert, what’s all this? A bright redbum? I thought you knew how to control a woman. You don’t let them spankyou, like a naughty boy, do you?”I felt so sorry for Sam who tried to make up some sort of silly explanationas the two men walked off down the corridor – he was going to have to workhard to keep is reputation for being a real sex b**st, and there was no wayhe was going to let on who had worked on him.Over breakfast though I said to him quietly “I don’t need you this morningand we’ll be going back to London soon – you’ve not been to New York, sowhy don’t you do some sight-seeing, buy your girlfriend a present…?”Sam grinned. “If only! She’s been going on about getting engaged, but Ican’t afford it on the wages you pay me, let alone have any money to wasteon presents. And then there’s the money I owe Dave….””We’ll see about the salary when we get back. I was thinking of gettingrid of you as my PA and moving you into the real business….. That’s whatyou’ve been trying for, isn’t it?”Sam was evidently so delighted by this and nodded enthusiastically.”A piece of advice, though. Talk to Ian about how hard the work is.Especially when the others see you as an outsider. It’s hard enough forhim as he didn’t go to the right uni. And you…””Oh don’t you bother about me, sir. I’m used to making my way….””Enough! Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But you’ve done well so far thistrip, especially last night, and perhaps you deserve a bonus. A bonusagainst future performance, too, if you get my meaning…””No, please, sir. Not again. It fucking hurts….””It’s meant to….!””And it’s demeaning, humiliating…””Quite so. Now stop being so stupid! It’s meant to be, when one man showshis superiority and power over you. And it’s not going to be any easiernext time – if Mr Williams wants to spank you again and I agree to it, hewill. And perhaps next time we might have an audience, – Ian and Ted – ormaybe even get Ian to help as from what I saw this morning he’s got apretty muscular body and I bet he’s got a lot of power in those arms…””No…”I laughed as I saw he thought I was being serious. Fun thought it mightbe, there was no way Cyrus was going to want an audience for what we mightdo to Sam next time. Or to share in the enjoyment of actually beatingSam’s nice pert ass himself. “Well we’ll not argue about it, but you diddo well, and in expectation of future performance you do deserve a bonus.”I pulled out my credit card, my personal one, the black one (forget allthose silver, gold and platinum things, I had them on my way up. Now I wassuper elite, no limit at all on spending, personal contact at the company,all that sort of rubbish). “Here… Go and treat yourself this morning.On me.”Shortly after Sam had left Anastasia came in and d****d herself aroundCyrus. “I need to borrow that adorable worker of yours again thismorning”, she told him. “He was such a good escort last night, polite,well dressed, a real credit to me…. And I’m going to a major fashionshow this morning, and he would be a very suitable ornament.””I’m sorry, my dear”, Cyrus told her. “We’re working here, and he will beneeded. The business always comes first, as you know.”I could see Anastasia’s mood turn in an instant. “Your silly business!We’re already so rich we couldn’t spend it all even if you lived to be ahundred, which you won’t, and you tried, which you don’t. So I suppose Iwill have to go by myself. And make silly small talk with all the otherbored people there. I need amusement, and if I’m not amused all I can dois chatter. Chatter about how you’re working even harder than ever, howour apartment is full of these people from London, about…””Don’t you dare!” Cyrus’s mood had also changed in an instant. “You knowthe rules! Absolutely no talk about what goes on in the business. None,absolutely none”.She stroked him as if affectionately. “Of course not, darling. But when usladies have nothing to talk about, it’s surprising how things just slipout….””Cyrus, perhaps you and I need a morning to discuss strategy withoutactually having the men do work. It’s too easy to fire off a list of tasksto them and then start to look at the answers. You and I need to talkstrategy. And Sam is out, Ted is playing with his computers as usual, soif Ian were to go with Mrs Williams….”At that moment Ian came in. He was dressed for work, I suppose – well, theattire he’d decided was appropriate for working in the apartment on thisproject. Skin-tight jeans, very low cut, not an expensive designer brandbut selected I suspect by Ian to show off his long legs and big bulge, anda shirt with the sleeves half rolled up to reveal his hairy forearms andwith a couple of buttons open with the thatch of his chest hair poking out.He had no socks on and his feet were in casual “loafers”. I wasn’t surewhich was the most inappropriate – his outfit today, or the cheap suits hewore at the office.”Ian”, I began. “Mr Williams and I need to have strategy talks thismorning. And Mrs Williams needs an escort to a fashion show – and lunch, Iwould imagine. You would do us a great kindness by giving up what wouldotherwise be a free morning for you by agreeing to go with Mrs Williams…”Anastasia cut in “And you need to go and get changed….”Ian looked pleased. “Well I sent my suit out to the cleaners…. It gotkind of crumpled last night….. Perhaps we could stop somewhere on theway and I could pick up something….?”I gasped at his audacity. I could imagine how his suit got crumpled, ifcrumpled it was – I thought it more likely it would be torn or damaged asthey ripped each others clothes off. And now he was angling for new stuff!Anastasia gave no one any time for further debate. “We can of course stopsomewhere on the way to get you some proper clothes. Saks has some stunningnew designers and I’m sure their stuff will be good on you, as that long,lean look is what they design for. It will be such a pleasure to help youselect some things, as there’s no point in doing it for Cyrus as they neverfit, and he doesn’t care, anyway….””Sorry, but beyond my budget!”, Ian said, a small smile flickering on hisface. “I don’t get paid all that much! And living in London isexpensive….””Silly boy! You’re doing us a favour, and Cyrus will gladly pick up thebill – well it will go on my card at Saks, anyway.”And that seemed to be that. Cyrus shrugged. I made a little “get out ofhere” gesture, Anastasia grabbed Ian’s arm and almost dragged him off. Iwas faintly amused at exactly who was using who: I could believe that Ian’schoice of clothes at Saks would, shall we say, not be inexpensive. But onthe other hand there would be all that wear and tear on his body later, asI suspected that after the show Anastasia would want a more private viewingof all the stuff he would have bought, and would want to help him put it onand off!Cyrus and I then had a good few hours of really serious debate about ourstrategy. The only annoyance was when my phone went and it was an idiotfrom the card company querying some transaction or other and I told him tomind his own business – that’s what I had a black card for.Effectively we had two choices, as I’ve told you: go into the market anddeal, or go to the Fed and the company and offer our “services” asadvisors, for a fixed (huge) fee. In the end as neither of us could agreeas the arguments on either side were so finely balanced, we tossed a coin.And before either Sam or Ian got back Cyrus had rung his office to reservetickets on the Washington train, a car had arrived, and we were on our waydown to DC.On the train Cyrus made a few calls, and finally I heard him say that hewould see the Secretary that afternoon, and that it was in the Secretary’sbest interests to have his diary cleared as the matter up for discussionwas potentially of national importance.Under the confidentiality agreement that was signed, and veiled threats ofprosecution under assorted acts relating to classified information, I can’ttell you how the talas went. Suffice it to say that they did go on intothe early hours, and that we were put up at a very grand (very, very grand)government guest place of some sort that was probably usually reserved forvisiting heads of state. Cyrus insisted we were on the first train back toNew York, and I agreed. I wanted to be back in London, actually.”So, you’re a wealthy man now”, Cyrus said to me.”As are you.”, I laughingly replied. “But I suppose you mean richer than Iwas before, Cyrus. Although not on your scale, I am the managing partner ofone of the largest financial institutions in London and I make a verysatisfactory amount of money every year. This deal will net my companyabout a billion, and as managing partner I take ten percent of theprofits!””So what are you going to do next?”I shrugged. “Go on working, I suppose. There’s not a lot of other thingsthat interest me. I certainly can’t retire, even if I bought myself aprivate island or something. I’d go mad with the boredom.””Let me give you a piece of advice”. Cyrus leaned closer to me, as peopledo when they are speaking personally and not about business. “I was likeyou once, young, keen, wheeling and dealing, always looking for the nextdeal, always trying to make more. And for what? Sure, I end up wealthy.Very, very wealthy. But there’s no satisfaction in it – this deal we’vejust done is the only one that’s excited me for the last ten years, and itwasn’t because of its size – it was because I was doing it myself. Allthose discussions we had, all the strategy we worked on, those men workingdirectly for us, a small, tight team…. There’s no fun in it any more whenthe corporation does it and all I do is nod my approval at presentationsand spread sheets as they’re put in front of me at endless meetings. Soget out whilst you’re ahead – there won’t be another deal like this forsome time, if ever.”I knew he was right, but what else could I do to keep myself occupied if Ididn’t carry on working? There seemed to be no immediate solution, and soas I did whenever there’s a seemingly intractable problem I “parked” itsomewhere in my brain so, like a computer it could be worked on in thebackground whilst the foreground did other things.When we got back to the apartment with the deal done there was really onlyan absolute flurry of paperwork to get it all formally ratified. Sam wasthere and was invaluable, Ted could be called on to fill in standard stufffrom masses of other similar documents (government documents he “found”!),and soon the stuff was being couriered out for signature. I hardly noticedIan wasn’t there, but the administrative stuff was not, I suppose, hisforte.After working so late the night before I decided not to fly back to Londonthat night, but booked on to the early morning flight the next day – I knowyou lose a day as you’re in the air, but you arrive more “naturally” asit’s late evening in London not the early hours of the morning.We decided to have a final celebration dinner, and considered it would bemore relaxing if we stayed in the apartment rather than go out to arestaurant. As we began to sit down, Cyrus, Anastasia, Sam, Ted and me,the door opened and Ian came in, a little late as usual. I heard Sam gaspin astonishment and that caused me to take a closer look at Ian as Sam isalways “on trend”, as you might say. At once I saw him I thought that Ireally ought to buy stock in Saks, as what Ian was wearing must haveconsiderably enhanced their balance sheet! Gone were the cheap jeans, andnow he wore leather trousers made of leather so fine, and cut so tight,they might almost have been poured on to him. A creamy silk shirt, againof very fine silk was open even further down his chest, and somehow mouldeditself to his form so that his nipples stuck out. And his watch – well myown is very slim and very elegant from the finest Swiss maker and cost metens of thousands. Ian’s was big and bold, sticking out from his wristlike a huge alarm clock. I recognised it from some of the pictures I’dseen in the magazine on the flight over – it was as expensive as mine, inspite of being tasteless. But I suppose that “bling” appealed to the sonsof the very rich, or wealthy Arabs. He seemed to have found time to havehis hair styled, too – it was still the same sexy rather unruly mop, butnow it had been expertly cut and teased into shape so that his hard lookswere emphasised in that way that somehow screamed excitement (andtrouble?). But what was very prominent as soon as you looked at himclosely were the several marks from “love bites” on his neck! And as hepushed his sleeves up a little as he sat, on his other wrist there was asmall and discrete, but still very visible mark: he seemed to have acquireda tattoo, a letter “A”! If I were to sum up the look he achieved I wouldhave to say it was “sex on legs”.As the dinner proceeded I mentioned that we were all to be ready early forthe morning flight, and indicating my three guys I reminded them that evenin business class they still needed to be there reasonably early because ofthe security checks. Ian put down his knife and fork and said “Oh, it’sOK, sir. I won’t be coming back. I’m staying in New York. I’ve decided`finance’ isn’t for me and I’ve got another job.”Seeing my look of surprise he went on “Yes, Mrs Williams has kindly offeredme the position of her personal assistant – well, at least in the shortterm as I look around for something else. She’s volunteered to introduceme to her friends, and I feel confident of getting a modelling job as somany of them we met yesterday said I looked the part, and they felt certainthat when they saw more of me their contacts would be interested…””Fucking gigolo…” Sam muttered under his breath, but evidently loudenough for Ian to hear as he laughed out loud at Sam and retorted “Potcalling the kettle black ass, eh, Sammy boy? What about you then, buyingyour way into that stuck-up bitch at the office…?””Sir, it’s not true. Yes, I have been seeing Victoria Greyson…..” Samsaid to me, trying to ignore Ian.”You mean the Honourable Victoria Greyson, don’t you, Sammy? And doing alot more than `seeing’ her, as you are always bragging – I bet she’s `seen’a lot more of you than even we have in the bathroom.” Ian sniggered at hisown joke and looking at me went on “She’s the daughter of a lord orsomething, a manager in currency trading, and Sam’s always saying that hewants to get hitched but her folks won’t agree. They probably don’t wantan East End barrow boy at the castle…”I was intrigued now. “What’s all this `buying in’ then?””Show us all the engagement ring, Sammy” Ian responded, and reaching intohis jacket pocked Sam rather reluctantly brought out one of those ringboxes – in soft calf leather, so I could see it must be expensive. Andwhen he opened it there was a ring, a big solitaire diamond. Even I, whodo not like flashiness and show, could see this was a serious piece ofjewellery. At least fifty thousand, I thought.Ian looked smug and went on “See, Sammy’s going to impress mommy and daddywith that.”I nodded, and suddenly realised why my card company had tried to call meyesterday. I was about to speak sharply to Sam when Ted, always silentgenerally but someone who I knew did not like dissent, broke in and saidquietly “I won’t be coming back either, sir.”All of us now looked astonished and before we could say anything he went on”The corporate life’s not for me. I realised how frustrated I’d been inLondon with all that budget stuff and still not having all the tools Ineeded to work properly. I’ve seen here how much I can do, how much I canfind out…. And I’ve made some friends already….”Seeing me look even more puzzled he went on “On-line friends, sir. I’vejoined a couple of groups… I’m considered very valuable…. I’veretrieved some documents for them, showed them some stuff about how to keepthemselves out of the eye of the government…. It’s all pretty excitingstuff….””Ted, please don’t tell me you have used the equipment the company hasbought for i*****l activities…””Oh, sir, I suppose it depends on what you mean by i*****l. It’s i*****lto do some of the things I’ve found described in some of the governmentdocuments. It’s i*****l to spy on private citizens. Some would say we areexercising our rights to reveal instances of i*****lity to public scrutinyso that the perpetrators can be brought to justice…. There’s a lot to bedone, sir, and I’m going to stay here and do it with my new friends, sir.””They’ll pick you up, you’ll be an i*****l immigrant… And you’ve got nomoney…””No, sir. I think not. With access to the right databases, which I foundand got in to, I’ve become a US citizen! And as for money – well, it’slying there, for the taking: the banks think their security is great, butnot if you’re a real expert, and I am.” He seemed proud of himself andwent on “But you’ve been good to me, sir, so if you do need anything, sir,any information, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll send you an e-mail with anaddress that’s untraceable – guaranteed – and you can ask for anyinformation and get it back from me, all untraceable, with nothing that canbe traced to you…. By anyone, ever!”Well, that seemed to finish the evening, and Anastasia, Ian and Ted got upand walked out. Cyrus and I sat there, and Sam seemed to be hoveringaround as if he wanted to see if there was anything else I wanted – he muststill be in PA mode, I thought.”So, Sam. That ring. My credit card?””Yes, sir.””In ordinary parlance. `treat yourself’ does not usually imply hundreds ofthousands….””Well I reckon you owed me, sir. Not only all the work…. But thatspanking…. A man’s self esteem is worth a lot you know, sir….”I looked at Cyrus and said calmly “Do you think that the littlechastisement we handed out to Sammy was worth hundreds of thousands?”He smiled back at me. “No, not really. But perhaps that charge on yourcredit card is for future services, too?””You’re right, of course.”. I looked at Sam and rapped “You know what todo! Shuck those clothes.”To his credit, Sam did not even try to argue with me, and Cyrus and Ienjoyed seeing him strip in front of us. And this time his ass was notjust red, but was turned blue and black with the severity of the punishmentCyrus, and I, gave him. Still, as he stood there pulling his shorts on Itold him that he could get on to the airline and upgrade himself to firstclass as I thought he needed the even more comfortable seats now! And,anyway, we were saving on Ian and Ted’s tickets.Interestingly as we were on the way to JFK the following morning my phonebeeped and there was a very strange looking e-mail which, when I clicked onit, turned out to be from Ted…. giving me a URL which when I clicked onit opened to a screen with the simple instructions “enter request”. Almostout of curiosity I did put in a question, and the answer came back, veryquickly.Back in my own place late the next evening – the traffic in from theairport was as usual terrible – Greg was waiting for me. He didn’t lookall that pleased, and as I ran my hand up under his T, feeling the skin andthe hard muscle of his belly, I complimented him on what good shape he wasin. I stripped off and threw myself onto my bed, then lay there, relaxed,one arm behind my head and the other playing with my cock, so glad to behome. Greg stood there, still glaring.I pointed at my cock. “You know what to do, Greg! Get down here. Anddidn’t I tell you that you were to be naked in the bedroom?”It was good to see him stripping again – after Sam’s slight body, Greg’sbigger, meatier, muscular one was a refreshing change. And he seemed to bedarker, too. He stretched out between my open legs, took hold of my cock,and put his mouth down on to it. As I reached out to hold his shoulders asI like to do as a measure of `”control”, I felt something.As my fingers explored, a thrill went through me and I could feel my cockstiffen even more. There was something there. I pushed Greg off my cockand he looked at me as I continued to finger his shoulder.”Yes, it’s a fucking brand! You had me branded, as if I was some sort ofa****l you owned.””You’re always making these accusations, Greg. `As if….’. Let me remindyou: you are an a****l I own, you know. But I like the feel of this, it’sgood to play with as you suck me off.””You may like the feel of it! But it fucking hurt, I tell you! At thetime they did it, and for days afterwards. It’s not right…””No right? What’s not right about an owner marking his property? And asfor it hurting, you’re always telling me about your time in the forces, andwhat you put up with… Now, a tiny little brand and you’re complainingabout it hurting!””And it wasn’t good for Jason either…”, he went on without stopping.”That fucking great `S’ on his bum. He cried for hours and hours. Andthen that vile exercise you had us put through….”I wasn’t aware that I’d put them through anything, only that I’d told Samto tell his uncle to make sure my slaves were properly exercised whilst Iwas away.”You do look a lot fitter, Greg. And tanned – I guess there were sunbeds,too? I rather like that darker shade on your skin. And I’m lookingforward to seeing Jason – with that blond hair against a tanned skin he’llbe pretty spectacular. So I don’t see how all that can be described as`vile’. I’ve invested in you, and you’re looking better for it.””Normal exercise is no problem. I like a good, hard workout. But thatthing he calls `the ladder’….””What’s that?””There’s a long plank With these dildo things screwed on to it. Small,thin ones at one end, going up to big fucking monstrous ones at the other.You have to start at the thin end and squat right down, and then work yourway along, further and further every day.”I lay there and my imagination was alight with the thought of Greg’s assbeing impaled like that. Seeing me quiet he probably thought he’d `won’the exchange, as he bent down and applied himself to my cock again, and Iwas rock hard – not only from his lips and tongue, but also because I wasimagining looking at Greg’s legs and thighs as he lowered himself on to thedildos, and then, presumably, was ordered to bob up and down on them.My mind went back to the previous night’s conversation and what I hadheard. Ian giving up a bright future with the company for a life ofscrewing old women (thoughts of `Mrs Robinson’ flashed through me), eventhough he claimed to like it. Then there was Sam, determined to possess anearl’s daughter, and `paying’ to do it if necessary. And Ted, quiet,mouse-like Ted, about to become some sort of urban guerilla or something.I realised that whatever I had achieved I was still, basically,conventional. I never did anything really bold any more, nothing daring,nothing sexually exotic. I needed to do something totally different asCyrus had discussed with me, and this was the right time to start.”Get on my cock!” I commanded, and when Greg went to put his head down Isnapped “No. Time for a change, Greg. Straddle me and then I want to feelthat ass of yours sliding down over my cock – like you were on `theladder’. I haven’t ever fucked you properly, have I? So it’s time for abit more excitement, I think.””No way! You know I’m straight. There’s no way I’m taking cock….”I looked at him and said calmly “So tell me why you left the service, Greg.Why aren’t you still a soldier? Why did you leave, and become penniless,and get enslaved for debt?””It was insubordination, they called it.””Don’t lie to me! You’re my slave, remember? And if you lie to me, I canpunish you, or have you punished! Yes, I know that was on your involuntarydischarge papers, the ones the dealer showed me to explain why you were upfor sale. And that’s why they threw you out without any sort of payment orpension. But now I’ve seen everything – all the witness statements, all thenotes made by the investigator….””You can’t have. They were `sealed’. Never produced in open court.””Some of the government databases are now like open books, Greg. I had oneof my associates – well, former associate – search out the informationabout what really happened. Those poor recruits…. And all you big toughinstructors….”Greg looked slightly ashamed. “It was only the wimps. They neededsomething to make them understand that life in the service is different.We never touched the good guys, proper men, men who would turn out OK aftertraining. Some of the others needed toughening up….””Well that’s one way of putting it! And the Government was complicit,trying to hide a scandal, not jailing you provided you went quietly.`Toughening up’? You and your mates grabbing them, wanking them in frontof the other men, and then fucking them? `Toughening up’ sounds like a bitof a euphemism for ****, Greg.””Only once or twice…””So it’s OK to fuck a guy once or twice, then?””No. Not really. We were all `straight’. But it needed doing, to makethe wimps see things differently…”I stroked my cock so it was ramrod hard. “Well anyway now do as I say,whether it’s right or not, whether you’re `straight’ or not…. straddleme, and ride my cock. Or take the consequences.””It’s like ****…””Actually, Greg, it isn’t. For two reasons. An owner can’t **** a slave -you can’t be unlawful if you use your own property in any way. Andsecondly, I’m not going to force you to do it. You’re going to do itvoluntarily.””Like fuck I am….””I ought to beat you for using that tone with me! But as it is, I’ll letit go this time. And I’ll advise you to think on – about all those slavebuddies of yours…. The doormen here in the building, the other slaves atthat training place I pay for to keep you in good condition. How are theygoing to treat you when they hear that so-called `straight’ Greg ended up aslave because he ****d young trainee soldiers?””It wasn’t like that, as I said… “”Yes it was. Well, it sounds like it to me, and, I’d think, it will soundlike it to all your buddies. Now I’m not going to force you – although Icould have you tied down to a fucking horse and take my pleasure from youin that way as I do own you. But I’m not a man that likes coercion and Iwant a willing fuck toy. So it’s your choice, Greg – straddle me, and ridemy cock, or take the consequences!”Slowly Greg moved his big body and gradually lowered himself. I wasfascinated to see all the muscles in his thighs as they moved to lower him.Then I got that first amazing thrill as Greg’s hot moist asshole touchedthe tip of my cock… And it got better and better as I looked at his facecontorting as he gingerly and slowly lowered himself, even reaching back tosteady himself with one hand on the bed, to get me inside him.It was amazing. The first time I’d fucked a man. I thought Id lie thereand it would be a bit like having my cock sucked, but it isn’t, is it? Allthat hot flesh all around you. The tightness. The pressure and release asyou go through the sphincter. And then the sight and sound of Greggroaning as his body went up and down. And the surprise as I found myselfthrusting upwards, not just lying there passively. Thrusting vigorously,as if my cock wanted to go deeper and deeper in to him. And seeing Greg’scock flying up and down as he rode my cock, and were those droplets landingon me Greg’s sweat, or drops of his pre-cum. It was almost indescribablyerotic. And then, al though I didn’t want to, as I wanted it to go on forever and ever, the sensation of my balls tightening and that amazingfeeling as you pump out your cum – not just into the mouth or hand, butdeep, deep up into the guy.I was panting and heaving with the effort. And Greg stopped, straddling mestill, my cock still buried deep in him. I reached and flicked at his cock- and wondered if I should order him to wank. It seemed the right thing todo to prolong my ecstasy, but I was tired and I didn’t want his cumspraying all along my chest, getting into my chest hair, as then I’d haveto get up and shower. So I told him to get off.As he did there was that very unpleasant smell of faeces, and I remindedmyself that the next time we did this I’d order Greg to have an enema fist.So I said, calmly and quietly “Go and get a wash cloth – a warm wash cloth- and clean your shit off me.”There’s something very masterful about having a man clean his shit off yourcock after you’ve fucked him, I think. And as Greg worked away I washappier than I’d been for a long time, happier than when we’d closed thedeal in New York, even. Now I was a man, a real man. No more mutualmasturbation. No more sucking of my cock. I’d fucked an ass, a big, toughman’s ass. How much time had I wasted, all these years simply playingaround, and not doing what a man is designed to do – to fuck. I wanted tothrow open the windows of my apartment and scream and shout to the worldthat I was a proper man at last. Or perhaps just e-mail someone…. Butwho? I realised I had no real buddy who I could share this triumph with,and my mood began to dissipate.Still, as Greg finished and went back into the bathroom, then came out (Iheard the shower running and I supposed he was cleaning my cum from his assand thighs) and went to go into his slave room, I thought on. “Get inhere”, I told him, throwing the covers back. Then we lay side by side, andI let my fingers twine in his chest hair, then explore down to tug gentlyat his cropped pubes, before I idly teased his cock and then cupped andfondled his balls. I could feel the tension in his body as I did all this,and his cock stiffened in my hand – but I decided not to wank him.”That was good”, I told him. “You’re a good fuck…. For a so-calledstraight guy.”He went to say something to rebut me, and I told him, in a not unkindlytone, that he should shut up and that I had decided to forgive him forlying to me earlier.I’d really never slept with anyone before, in the sense of lying togethernaked in the same bed with our bodies close together. And there were somegood things – the warmth of Greg, the scent of him, the way I could strokehis cock and balls if I wanted to – and hear how his breathing changed as Idid, and the little muttering sounds he made in his sleep. And some not sogood things – when he rolled over, it disturbed my sleep. And he snored -not loudly, but enough, when you’re used to silence in the bedroom.I woke early, as I always do, and felt him right next to me. I’d got myusual morning hard-on, and my cock was kind of nestling along Greg’s asscrack. And as I lay there it seemed to me that there was something else todo – sure, I’d fucked Greg last night, my first time. But it had been abit like a bitch in all those hetero porn films riding the stud – had Ireally been in charge, was I in control? There was only one way to findout: I slapped Greg’s ass, hard, to wake him, then told him to kneel on theedge of the bed.In spite of the heating the air felt slightly chill on my naked body as Istood there looking at Greg`s ass in front of me. My cock clearly wantedto do it, as it was rampantly hard. But I was shaking inside – could I doit? Could I really fuck a man like this? But I’m an expert at concealingany fears I have, so I snapped “reach back and pull your fucking ass cheeksapart!” at Greg.If he hadn’t complied, although he did it so slowly that I had initialdoubts, I’m not sure what would have happened. But he presumablyremembered the lessons from the night before, and soon I could see hispuckered hole tightening and relaxing in line with his laboured breathing.I leaned forward and dribbled a huge load of spit onto my cock then rubbedmyself to cover it all over, and moved forward.Once my cock touched his hole something cut in – some almost primevalknowledge, I suppose. Looking at me you`d have thought I was a lifelongexpert at it, as I used my hand to hold my cock rigid as I forced my wayin, and then rode Greg with wild abandon, sometimes slow, sometimes ingreat, fast busts of vigour, and sometimes pulling right out before Ilammed back in. And yes, spit isn’t the greatest of lube. And yes, Gregdid cry out and even scream and shout a bit as some of it was painful. Andit all added to the excitement, the joy, the fun I was having.Work that day was simply boring. All the usual meetings, and there wasn’teven the sight of Sam’s cute little bum to cheer me up, as I’d moved himinto a so-called “proper” job and HR had back-filled him with a female. Ithought about telling them she was unsuitable, and then remembered all thefuss there had been when I had overridden long-established practices inthese things – it seemed there was a kind of hierarchy involved in workingup to be the PA to the managing partner, and I had upset everything. I’dtold HR I’d be more careful in future, so I could hardly now repeat theprocess and get myself another nice young man. Still, she was pleasantenough and frighteningly efficient, so I decided to stick with the statusquo.I got home earlier than I usually did as I was looking forward to taking my”education” using Greg rather further. He always looks kind of sexy in hissinglet and shorts, and I think the fact that he is bare footed around theplace so that there are only the two garments covering his whole body addsto the visual excitement. But as he continued to prepare my dinner I toldhim to lose the shorts. He turned and glared at me, but seeing my resolutelook did as he was told, and my cock stiffened as the sight of him wearingonly the singlet, which was only just long enough so that at the front hiscock head peeped out from under the hem, and at the back it kind of bunchedup to rest on the “ledge” where his bum flared out so I had anuninterrupted view of his buttocks. I knew he would be embarrassed andhumiliated by this, and was pleased that I had thought of such a simpleidea to further my control of the situation, and of Greg.After dinner he kind of hovered around – I knew he wanted to watch some bigmatch or other on the TV, but didn’t want to sit on the sofa with his barebum and his cock and balls hanging out. Still it wasn’t a question of whathe wanted, so I patted the sofa next to me indicating he should sit there,which he did, but bolt upright and not at all relaxed. I reached out, putmy arm around is shoulders and pulled him close to me – something I’d neverdone before – then let my finger idly trace the brand on his bare shoulder.I did let him turn the TV on but with the sound turned very low so theinane cheering and shouting of the crowd (and the even more inanecommentary) didn’t disturb me. I half turned so my other hand could reachcomfortably and began to fondle his cock and balls. I didn’t know if hewas really turned on by this, and if he was, was it because of my playingwith his cock, or because he could feel my fingers “owning” him byemphasising the brand? But it didn’t really matter, as I could feel himstiffening under my fingers anyway – perhaps you always do, to a certainextent when someone else is touching your cock, even if you don’t find itsensual.”So tell me more about life in the service, Greg.”He sounded a bit irritated as he was trying to watch the TV, but hemuttered “There’s not much to say.””I’m sure there is! Now, start from the beginning. When did you join?””At 16, as a boy soldier. They don’t let you fight or anything at thatage. But I wasn’t any good at school – I’m not stupid, but it was boring.And they look after you really well. Lots of physical activity…. I’dalways been fit and tough, but all the stuff we did really built me up.”I nodded, and he went on “Then at 18 I moved in to the regulars. Andthat’s really good, all guns and weapons and stuff. And I had a realadvantage over the guys joining then as I knew all about militarydiscipline, keeping all my kit in the regulation way….””…and very fit and strong.””Yes. I was made a corporal straight away, and I needed to be fit as someof the older guys resented it, and I had to really make sure theyunderstood I was in charge.””And then?””At 21, I went through all the tests they do and got in to one of theSpecial forces units. The elite. And there I stayed.””And got promoted to sergeant… And then you and your fellow sergeantsabused the new recruits, abused them sexually….””It wasn’t like that, sir!” Greg sounded really upset now. “I’ve toldyou, I’m straight. But some of those young guys need to learn who’s incharge, need to understand the way of the Special forces, need to haveproper respect. And there’s only so much of a hard beating you can givesome of them without doing permanent damage. So a bit of humiliation workswonders. Me and Andy….””Who’s Andy?”Greg went silent a moment, and it seemed to me that he didn’t want to saymore. So I squeezed his balls gently and stroked his brand, to remind himof who was in charge here.”My best mate.””Tell me more””He really didn’t want to say, I sensed. But suddenly he blurted out, as ifhe couldn’t stop. “My best mate. We were in the boy soldiers together,then the real forces, then both managed to get into Special forces and werein the same unit. He was fantastic. We were like brothers, twin brothers,always looking out for each other, covering each others backs. He saved mylife on a couple of operations, and I did his, too. “This sounded interesting. “And I suppose he was `straight’, too?””Yes, of course. He got married when he was 19. I was his best man. Itwas stupid really as he was too young, but some slut in one of the pubsnear the base decided he’d be a good meal ticket, I reckon. And Andy fellfor her. And seven months after they were hitched he had his first son…””His first son…..?””Yes, he had three nippers in quick succession. A girl then another boy.It properly messed him around, I an tell you – he never had any spare moneyas the army can deduct most of your pay and give it to your dependants topay the rent on the married quarters, and stuff like that. He almost lostout on getting in to the Special forces as he was always worried about themand it takes your mind off soldiering. I had to really help him.””How can you help someone get through all those Special forces things? Isaw a documentary last year on the TV – it all seemed very tough, almostbrutal. All those exercises and stuff, with everyone watching. Even thoughyou’re fit and strong, you said it was difficult for you, let alone helpingout this Andy…””No, not physically. It was more kind of…. Kind of….. Emotionalsupport. We were proper mates, been through everything since we were 16,and he needed help…. You know, reassuring him, telling him he could doit, stuff like that. Someone you can really talk to, who knows you’ll keeptheir secrets.”As he was saying all this Greg was clearly so uncomfortable, as his wholebody was tensing and relaxing, and I could even feel some kind oftremoring, or shaking. This was interesting! “So this `support’ – in yourbunks I suppose, as you could hardly do it in public – I’m thinking theSpecial forces wouldn’t take kindly to men not able to take the strain…””No! Blokes don’t sleep with each other in their bunks….””Oh, so you did sleep with him in other places….””Yes…. No…. Not really….”I’d stopped stroking his cock and he could tell I was waiting forsomething.”Look, when you’re out on manoeuvres, for days sometimes…. in thedesert, or the snow, always somewhere wild, miles from anywhere. Too cold,wet….. Well mates do want to share sleeping bags then to keep warm, get abit of comfort….””Get a bit of comfort? You mean you fucked each other….?””NO! I’m straight, and so was Andy.” Greg was all tense again, and Isimply waited. I know that often when you don’t say anything it almostforces the other person too. So I simply sat there and held back all thequestions I wanted to ask. “Mates don’t fuck each other! But when you’relying close, you can feel a cock pressing against you. And it’s hard tosleep, as you’re fit, virile blokes used to wanking yourself. So, youknow….””Ah, so you and Andy would lie there all snug and close, and wank.”Greg nodded.”Wank each other…..?”Greg seemed so tense now that I thought he might get up and walk away, so Itightened my grip on his shoulder and cock to reinforce my control. Hecould easily have broken away of course, but sometimes even a lightphysical touch will remind people of the true situation.”Well….. Yes. Sometimes. But it wasn’t anything special. Andy was justmissing his wife….””Oh come on, Greg! You’re in the Special forces, living in the barracksmost of the time, And out on these manoeuvres. How could he `miss hiswife’? I’d imagine he’d spend almost all his time wanking himself. Unlessyou and he were doing it together.””It’s only wanking, sir…. Not like sex.”I laughed, softly. “Not everyone would agree with you. Anyway, whathappened to this Andy? Was he enslaved when you were, for abusing therecruits?””He should be that lucky. It was years earlier. He was killed. In action.Fucking stupid, it was. I should have stopped it….”I could sense Greg was really upset now, and so I whispered quietly “Itcouldn’t be your fault. It was the enemy, if he was killed in action….””No, it was my fault. He’d been having troubles with his missus. She washaving it away with some other bloke as he was almost never there. And shewas suing for divorce, and for custody of the nippers, saying he wasviolent… He should have gone back to base and sorted it all out…. Buthe wanted to be with me and our other mates, doing our duty, on thisoperation… He said he’d sort it out when we got back. But he was soangry all the time, so tense, thinking about some other bloke screwing hismissus, losing his k**s…. I tried to distract him….””So you held him close, and then you were in a sleeping bag together, andyou masturbated together for comfort…””…and I tried to make it all right, tried to get him to see sense, to tryto focus on the operation, not what was going on back home, told him heneeded to take care of himself…. but he wouldn’t – no, couldn’t, I reckon- listen. And you’ve got to have all your wits about you when you’refighting, not be thinking of other stuff…. And the bastards got him.””It sounds as if you did everything you could….””No, I should have been there with him. He ran out ahead, fucking idiot.It was stupid. Perhaps if I’d gone with him rather than staying undercover… Perhaps they might have shot me, or been distracted….””And perhaps you’d both have been shot. How would that help?””We’d have been together. I miss him, miss him so much. For years I’vethought of him every day.” Something strange was happening to Greg now.He’d relaxed a bit – I suppose “confession” is good for the soul. Thensomething dropped on my hand, and I realised it was a tear.I let go of his cock, and still holding him close to me raised my hand andwiped it gently across his cheek, smoothing away tears. As I did so, Ibrushed his lips, and as if by reflex, I felt them open slightly.It’s time for a confession of my own, I suppose. I’d never really kissedanyone – well, the usual stuff on the cheek with my mother. But nothingserious. Not another man. And somehow it now seemed appropriate tofurther my education. So I leaned closer and pressed my lips to Greg’s,getting a faint taste of salt from his tears.Although I’d not done it practically, I do know how men are supposed tokiss from seeing it in porn movies. So I pressed with my tongue andwriggled it a bit, and pressed harder to force his mouth open, and then Iwas feeling and tasting Greg’s spit. I explored, my cock going painfullyhard as my tongue pressed against his, and then, all of a sudden, it wasalmost as if we were fighting – I’d grabbed his head and pulled it tightagainst mine as our open mouths locked together, then both our tongues weredarting in and out, and I felt Greg’s hand pull my head almost at rightangles with our lips still together as we panted and gasped. I slid myhand up under the loose singlet and pinched Greg’s nipples, and thethrashing of our tongues got even more violent as his passion seemed totake hold.After about five minutes I broke off – although it seemed like longer. Isat there then pulled the singlet up over Greg’s head so he was totallynaked. Then reached down for his cock and stood up, forcing him to do so,and led him by his cock to the bedroom. I pushed him down on the bed, onhis back, and he lay there watching me as I stripped my clothes off. Andthen I fucked him again. And again. On his back, his knees pushed up tohis chest so I could get my cock deep in and lean forward and kiss him -kissing and fucking passionately.Finally I had to stop kissing him as I needed to throw my head backuncontrollably and shout “Yes, fuck, yes….” at the top of my voice as Ifinally shot my load explosively deep inside him. I then lay on him, andhis arm went around me almost protectively, as I laughed and laughed with asort of hysterical joy. It was so strange for me, as I never ever losecontrol like that.It must have been Greg who cleaned the mess up and then slipped in besideme on the bed, pulled the coves over us, and curled his arm around me. Ilay with my head on his outstretched arm breathing in the heady scent ofhis pits, my legs intertwined with his and out cocks nestled together. Ifell asleep, and slept so well until about 03:30, when I woke up and for amoment wondered where I was. I felt the warmth of Greg against me, and hisgentle breathing (and quiet snoring!). I lay there, utterly content, andthought about waking him so I could fuck him again, but it was somehow sopeaceful and I felt so good, and I slipped into thinking about the dayahead, as I always do. But other thoughts kept intruding – I now knew howto fuck, and I knew how to kiss a man, properly. I felt a grin spreadacross my face as I wondered what my colleagues would think if they’d knownhow I’d spent my evening and night – but then they probably thought I wassome sort of homosexual anyway, owning a slave like Greg and not beingmarried.Some of you must be thinking you sense a degree of self delusion here – Iwas falling in love, you’ll say. But I wasn’t. Well, I couldn’t, could I?Greg’s my slave, remember. I own him. And whilst you can love yourpossessions – in the sense that you might love your car, or your home, oreven your dog – you can’t truly love something you own. It needs to bemutual. I could now have a lot more fun in bed with Greg, and really,really enjoy fucking and kissing him, but that’s all – I’d be using him, asI’d use anything I owned.Sam popped his head around he door of my office the next morning, somehowinsinuating himself in between my meetings and causing my PA to glare athim. “Dave’s worried, sir. Can you call him?””Worried, why?””Well we’ve been back from New York, he knows that. And he’s worried aboutthe money you owe him.””Worried about what I owe him? Haven’t you told your uncle about how muchmoney I have?””It isn’t that, sir! It’s how much money he doesn’t have. Training thatslave has cost a lot, especially the money Uncle Dave had to pay out to fixits registration. And he doesn’t have good cash flow, sir. Couldn’t yougive him a call, reassure him….”I thought there was something better that I could do, so I reviewed mydiary, decided that as none of my other appointments were with clients theycould be cancelled, and left the office mid-afternoon. At Dave’s Slavesthe black slave girl had been replaced with a white one on reception – Isuppose tat if you like women, women with prominent tits, she would be OK.I told her I wanted to see Dave, and she told me that he was busy and thatI should come back “later”! What a way to treat clients!Although I am always polite, even to slaves, I can be very forceful andsoon I was being conducted through the “back office” facilities one again.I breathed in that heady mixture of pheromones, sweat and piss as I lookedat the slaves in their cages as I passed – well, the males, anyway. I’vetold you that Dave’s stock was not of the highest quality and although someof the males were marginally acceptable, most of the females looked likewhores, or were past their best, or both! The so-called “overseer” who wasconducting me having been summoned by the receptionist was OK, though – abig, strong-looking nigga with a good firm ass and long legs. I rememberedthat Dave had said that all slaves “out back” were always naked to avoidany possibility of confusion with free men, and I assumed that thisoverseer, being naked, was also a slave. He was considerably better thanthe stock in general appearance and I would have considered buying him Isuppose had I been in the market to buy another slave.The nigga led me into a large, high-ceilinged room and the first thing Isaw were two large solid flogging frames, each with a naked slave stretchedout on it – wrists secured to the top so that the arms were outstretched,and high enough so that the slaves’ bodies were stretched to such an extentthat they had to stand on tip-toe. And then the second thing I saw wasDave – wearing only tight, low-slung jeans. His chest was bare and I gotconfirmation of what I had seen before, that he was muscular like me with anice thatch of hair on him. I couldn`t help looking at his crotch – well,a pronounced treasure trail led my eyes down – and was however a littlesurprised to see that there was no mass of pubes peeking out from the verylow waist of his jeans – I could never have worn those jeans with my propermasculine bush, and was a bit surprised I suppose to think that Dave mustclip and trim his pubes. It is after all the fashion for free men now notto do this, or so I had observed at the gym I go to.He took a couple of steps towards me, hand outstretched, saying “Thatstupid bitch on reception – she said it was `just a customer’ and I toldher they’d need to wait as I have this whipping scheduled – I’ll give her agood spanking later for not understanding that there are customers, andcustomers! Sorry, but I can’t postpone this as the owners of these two aresending a courier to collect them later.””I don’t mind waiting – in fact I’d quite like to. I haven’t seen awhipping – well, not a proper one, with a bullwhip like that one you’recarrying…””Sorry, you’ll have to go back to reception. This is a serious whipping, AVERY serious one, as the owner wants no attempt made to preserve the bodyof the slave. He’s having them couriered out to his farm where they’ll bestrung up as a warning to all the other stock…””Now you’ve really got me interested. And don’t worry about me – I’ve gota strong stomach…”Dave laughed. “It’s not that! We could easily clean up if you puked – thisis my punishment room, and as you’ll see it’s got a solid concrete floorsloping towards that drain so it can easily be hosed down.” He paused fora moment, still looking amused with a nice smile on his face. “The fact isthat most slaves being punished here lose control of their bladders, ortheir bowels – and with a whipping like the one these two are about to get,both.” He paused and went on “It’s that suit of yours – it must have costthousands.”I nodded, as it indeed had cost thousands as it’s hand made in Saville Row,but looked puzzled still. So Dave continued “There’ll be a whole lot ofblood, flying around, and bits and pieces of flesh, too, as the whip tearat the muscle. I’d hate to see you get stained. That’s why I mostly stripoff for these whippings.””…except that you have slaves naked out back here, you told me, so youkeep the jeans on?”Dave nodded and now, feeling my cock straining as I thought about the nakedslaves being whipped, and seeing the half-naked Dave in action, I becamemore determined. “Well I certainly want to stay. So why don’t you sendthat nigga to get me something to wear?”Dave barked a couple of orders at the nigga who left, and Dave and I stoodthere as he told me a bit more about what was going to happen. He let mehold the whip, and I was amazed at the weight of it. “When an owner wantsa real punishment for a slave that’s one of the reasons why they send himhere”, he told me. “You can only do real damage with a heavy, long whip:think of the weight of the thing flying very fast through the air – allthat energy in it that then gets dissipated in the slave’s muscles!”I nodded, and Dave seemed pleased. “That’s why you need an expert – it’s acombination of skill to use the thing properly, to get the tip to strike inthe right places, and power to put the energy in to it. There’s not a lotof men like me who have both. And of course to have a proper whippingframe – when a slave is being flayed to near-death, he’s going to tryanything to try to break free, and you need sturdy equipment.””Ah, so that’s why people ask you…””No, not just that. Anyone can whip a slave, even its owner, but above acertain level of damage to the slave you need a licence. It’s one of thoseanti-cruelty laws that came in a couple of years ago – amateurs attemptinga whipping with a bullwhip like this were doing all sorts of stuff likeripping the slave`s cock off if it snaked around the body. And the RSPCS -that’s like the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to a****ls, butfor slaves, lobbied parliament to get all sorts of new standards in place.”I nodded. “Yes, the RSPCS, of course. We had them as one of our sponsoredcharities a year or so ago.””Well some people don’t like it, you know. They think an owner ought to beable to do what he likes with his property. But you haven’t had thatfreedom with your a****ls or pets for many years, so it’s reasonable tohave some standards for slaves. And the RSPCS doesn’t say you can’t flay aslave to within an inch of its life, only that it must be done properly andhumanely.” He paused and went on, still smiling “And a `good thing too’, Isay, and heartily agree with them. It’s a really good income stream forme! Worth all the effort to get examined for the licence, and for theannual renewal. Not a lot of slave dealers bother, so getting a slavereally well whipped can be difficult, and those of us who do offer theservice can charge a lot. It really supplements my income from sales.”At that moment the nigga came back in. I was expecting he’d have brought along coat, or overalls, or something. But he was carrying a pair of jeans,which he handed to Dave, bowing as he did so. Dave in turn handed them tome. “These are clean. They get washed every day, and I’ve got lots ofpairs as some of the other stuff we do here is even more messy. And youlook about the same size of me – we don’t keep special stuff for visitorsas we don’t have any. So washable jeans for me and the bare hide of theslaves is fine.” He saw me looking hesitantly and went on “That’s OK,isn’t it….?”Well I didn’t want to look like some sort of eccentric, or even a wimp, sotook my jacket off and handed it to the nigga as there didn’t seem to beanywhere to go to change. I usually drop my clothes on the floor for Gregto pick up but the floor here didn’t look that appealing.Look, I’m not ashamed of my body as I’m in good condition, as I’ve told you- all those hours in the gym. And I’m not worried about changing in frontof other men – at school and university I was in the first fifteen, andyou’re always naked there with the other blokes before and after the match.And indeed I know I’m pretty well hung from seeing other men over the yearsin changing rooms. And of course I was used to being naked in front ofGreg. And it wasn’t the nigga that was concerning me here as I strippedoff my shirt and trousers – it was Dave!There were two problems – firstly I was aware that I was fighting not toget totally erect, and I was wondering what to do about my underwear. Daveclearly didn’t have anything on under his jeans, and my own underwear wasjust about stopping me from a full throbbing erection. And secondly,stripping there in front of Dave I couldn’t help but imagine how a newslave must feel as it was ordered by Dave to get naked – how many men likeme had stood there in front of him as he watched them reveal their bodies?What was he thinking about me at this instant? Was he seeing me as a slavein some way? Was he comparing me with all the other males who must havegot naked in front of him over the years?Still I did not want to hesitate, and as I have told you, I am really goodat concealing my emotions. So completely nonchalantly, as if it was themost normal thing in the world, I put my thumbs under the elastic waist ofmy underpants and pushed them down, then stepped out of them and handedthem to the nigga. And, as you do, that male reflex kicked in and I didwhat so many men do when undressing and reached down and “freed” my cockfrom where it was stuck to my balls.It was really exciting to watch Dave flay the slaves. He spent a fewminutes on one then switched to the other, and then back, and so on. Thatmeant that the slaves never had time for numbness to really build up beforethe whip struck again. And both slaves were screaming and cryingsimultaneously. Dave really put a huge amount of effort in to it, and historso was soon glistening with sweat, and the waistband of his jeans,especially at the back at the top of his ass crack, was sodden.When he finally finished he stood there breathing very, very heavily andrapped out a few simple orders to his overseer slaves – to cut the slavesdown and throw them into a recovery cell. “They’ll be in agony, but in therecovery cell we keep the air sprayed with antibiotic so infection oughtnot to set in – although they’re really damaged, they still have some scrapvalue”, he added.Dave himself was streaked with the flying blood, and there was some on me,too. Then he reached out and plucked a scrap of flesh from my chest hair -it was somehow an act so intimate that my cock felt it was going to burstas it strained against the jeans. I mean you never really touch anotherguy’s chest hair, do you? And as he drew his hand away, his thumb somehowmanaged to brush my nipple – by accident, or was it?Dave led the way then from out of the “business” part of his little empireinto what seemed to be his private quarters – plain, almost austere. Hehad a big bathroom though and one of those huge shower cubicles, and hestripped off his jeans and reached in to turn on the water, then after afew moments stood with the water drenching down over him. “Come on!”, heshouted, smiling again. “The water’s at the right temperature so get inhere and let me wash that blood off you. I expect a man like you is usedto having a slave take the cold water first, but I’ve done that, so there’snothing to be worried about…”Look, I’m used to sharing showers with other men – I was a rugby player asI’ve told you. But it’s different when there are twenty or thirty guys alltogether, and sharing with one other guy is different. But what could Ido? So I dropped the jeans, flicked my cock again to free it, and got in.There was nothing overtly sexual about it, actually. Dave stood there andsoaped himself, and I soaped myself. I watched him soap his cock, as hewatched me do mine. But then he did something the rugger guys never did -instead of turning around, he stood there facing me as he `skinned back towash his cock head! I was in a real dilemma – I’ve never exposed myselflike that before, as I always faced the wall in communal showers when Iwashed my cock, but I could hardly do that now, could I? Dave would thinkme rude, or scared, or something. I felt myself blushing as I slid my own`skin back, and hoped Dave wouldn’t notice my colour.As we stood there drying ourselves Dave said “I hope you’ve come for yourslave….””Well, that was the idea.””I like my clients to inspect the slave properly to make sure I’ve doneeverything right…. You don’t need to rush off, do you? No big importantdinner or client meeting or anything?””No.””So why don’t we make a night of it? You can inspect your slave, then wecan go down the pub and get a bite to eat – Sammy said you were in New Yorkand I’m hoping to go there later in the year for a holiday. You can tellme all about the sights, the restaurants…”I wanted to say that it was very unlikely that Dave would go to the kind ofplaces that I frequent as he couldn’t afford them, but thought better ofit. So I nodded, trying to look enthusiastic.”Well you’d better borrow these too, then…” Dave opened a drawer andpulled out a pair of shorts and a polo, and then another set which hetossed to me. “The blokes at the pub will think you’re some sort of queertrying to pick up a bit of rough trade if you go in dressed in a suit inthe evening.”Once again there was no underwear, and I could certainly feel myself”hanging loose” as you might say, as the shorts were those kind of greyexercise shorts, long enough so I was not exposed or could be mistaken fora slave, as they reached almost to the knee. The shorts and polo wereperfectly clean, but wearing another guy’s clothes is kind of exciting, andI did wonder if I just caught the fine scent of another man as I pulled theshirt over my head.We sat next to each other on a sofa in Dave`s sitting room then and heshouted out and a young slave boy at one rushed in with two bottles of beer- no glasses. Dave chugged it from the bottle, and I did so too therefore.I don’t like beer really, and don’t like drinking out of bottles either,but I needed to do as Dave did as I wanted him to think of me as a realman. Dave grabbed at the slave – who was wearing only brief shorts – andpulled him in-between us.”What do you think of this one, then?” he asked me as he ran his handsover the boy’s torso and thighs. “I got him really cheap on his sixteenthbirthday as he was a right little trouble maker and the cops were onlywaiting until he was of age to throw the book at him and get him enslaved.And he was a bit of a runt – no proper food, as he was too busy smoking,drinking and sniffing stuff! But look at him now, six months on -obedient, as you can see. And nicely developed, too – proper grub, andfour hours a day in the gym. And no more smoking, drinking and d**gs – Ibeat the liking for all those out of him. I’m going to sell him inDecember, just in time for Christmas – he’ll make a really nice present forsomeone, and we’ll have time to do whatever mods they want to him.Seeing me looking puzzled, Dave reached up and tweaked the slave’s leftnipple, causing the boy to give a kind of a squeak and to try to pull away.”A lad like this needs ringing – most men buying a youngster like this canfind it hard to control them, but a nice pair of tit rings gives themsomething to grip, and as you can see the lad’s sensitive so pulling on itstit rings will quickly convince him to behave.””I’d never thought of that. I suppose it works on all men – well, slaves -I could have my slave done, as he can be difficult…””Yes, about that, shall we have it brought in?””No, not Jason – my other slave, Greg. I think heavy tit rings might suithim. Well, I’d like to see them, anyway.”Dave nodded and without any warning pulled the slave’s shorts down. He hadthat sort of cock that sits on top of a prominent ball sac so it sticksout. “The buyer can choose to leave him `au naturel’ too, or have him`skinned. Personally I think cocks like this look better with the headexposed, but some owners like the slave to look natural.”I nodded, not sure of what to say. But Dave didn’t seem particularlyinterested in my views as he spun the slave around. “Nice little bum, too,don’t you think? A bit like Sammy’s.””Yes…”, I stammered, then realised what I’d said.Greg grinned. “Sammy said you liked to look at his bum.””He told you that…?””Yes, he said you were always glancing at him in the office differentlyfrom the way you looked at all the other men, and he assumed it was becausehe’s got that nice trim body and fantastic ass.”Well it was true, of course. But I didn’t want Dave to think I was somesort of pervert! So I tried to be urbane and casual “Well, it’s not thesort of thing you usually talk about….”Dave smiled again. “Oh come on! What else do men talk about after sex?”I was shocked. And blurted out “You and Sammy? But he’s `straight’ -quite a cocksman at the office! And he’s your nephew….!”Dave let go of the slave, snapped at him to go and tell the overseers tofetch my slave, and then sat back, completely at ease. “I don’t thinkyou’ve had much to do with young lads, have you? You probably had niceparents, went to a good school, didn’t have sex there as it wasn’t the donething, worked hard, never in any trouble, went to university….”I nodded and Dave went on “Well round here it’s different. Too easy for alad to go wrong. Sammy was a real tearaway, and could easily have ended uplike that slave boy. His mom, my sister, was really worried and asked meto do something. So of course I did.””I told him to stop smoking. To stop nicking things. To do his homework.And Sammy, being Sammy, ignored me. So he needed slapping around a bituntil he understood that when his uncle Dave said to do something, he wasto do it! So we got along, keeping Sammy mostly up to scratch, until hewas sixteen. Then on his birthday he told me he was a man, and he wasgoing to do what he wanted now. He was going to smoke, quit school, andgive a couple of girls he knew k**s – he could easily live on the moneythey`d get from the Social Security!”Dave was grinning now. “It was in this very room – I’d just started in theslave business and found this place. So I said to him `So you think you’rea man now, do you, Sammy’, and he said `Yes’, and that I should fuck off.So I taught him what happens when you’re cheeky and rude to a man that’sbigger and stronger than you!”Seeing me looking puzzled Dave went on “I told him I didn’t like being toldto fuck off, and I was worried about him. And he kept on saying how he wasgoing to do what he wanted, ending up with `..so fuck you!’. `No, Sammy’,I told him. `It’s fuck you…’, and I did. And it was pretty grim thefirst time, I can tell you – all that screaming and shouting, and I had toslap him about a bit. And he wouldn’t suck my cock even though I told himthat was going to be the only lube he got. And it wasn’t even a very goodfuck – tight as a drum he was, so I had to use quite a lot of force to getmy cock in, and I don’t like that.”Seeing y look of astonishment Dave sort of shrugged “It’s not i*****l, youknow, uncles and nephews. I wasn`t his dad, after all. And I did waituntil his sixteenth birthday, whereas I reckon he needed a good fuckingbefore that. And it worked – after I’d taught him how to behave properlywith an older man, after a few sessions he really settled down. Workedhard at school, gave up all his mates who were no good, got to uni, got agood job, a proper job… Well, you know all about that.””But he’s straight…. Always chasing women. And he’s got engaged….”Dave shrugged again. “So? He doesn’t have to fuck men, you know. Well,he wasn`t allowed to fuck me, anyway. But he does have to do what I say -even now…. I suppose it’s a bit of a habit. When I’m bored with theslaves I tell Sammy to get his ass over here… It’s good for him, havingan older man who he respects wanting him. Makes him feel special, andneeded.”I was going to say more, but at that moment the door opened and one of theoverseers brought Jason in and my mouth dropped open! Jason was sexybefore, which is why I’d been looking at him on the tube, but now he wasamazing. He’s put on a few pounds, all muscle, and this was accentuated bythe clothes he was wearing – they looked to be the same T and shorts I’dfirst seen him in, but now they were so much tighter on him and reinforcedjust how sexy his body was.”Unclothe”, Dave rapped, and Jason immediately pulled off his T – his bellywas lines of hard muscle as he raised his arms to get it over his head, andwhen he dropped his shorts to stand there in front of us completely naked Icould see that the honeyed tan I’d seen on his arms and legs was now allover him, making his blond body, arm and leg hair stand out beautifully incontrast.”Turn”, Dave rapped again, and my cock went seriously hard as I saw the big”S” seared into his flank. There was no doubt Jason was now a slave, aproper slave. And, what’s more, MY slave. I owned this beautiful piece ofman flesh standing there looking vulnerable, helpless, and hopeless.

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