CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES A Sequel to "A Reversal of Fortune"
Chapter 18
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years
Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris) "To see all my stories go to groups.yahoo.com/group/SlaveNow"
Chapter 18: "Return to the Stables"
It has been a momentous day for me. Today was my first full day of slavery and as I lie cradled in Norge's strong arms I think back over it.
I have been exposed to the full horrors of my new life. No longer free, I must now conform to my Master's wishes or suffer the consequences. My body still smarts from last evening's caning and from Marv's cruel whipping of me as I laboured at the wood-pile. My body still aches from the unaccustomed, hard, physical labour and my free man's pride -some of which I still retain -has been sorely tested by my recent humiliation in the dining-room at the hands of my Mistress, Charlotte Maratier. I'm overwhelmed by the intensity of her hatred of me. In my naivety, I'd never supposed that one person could entertain such malevolence towards another. But then, I recall that her vehemence isn't just directed at me-Cato also shares in it. He too has been brought undone by her hatred of my late grandfather. Poor Cato!
Even in my own self-pitying state, I can spare a thought for him and for what has happened. As I snuggle up closer to Norge - moulding the front of my body into the contours of his back -I think of Cato lying alone in his cubicle adjoining the household slaves' sleeping quarters. Tonight there'll be no young slave sleeping in his bed; no warm, firm body for him to use and no one to comfort him. At least I have Norge.
As Cato lies alone in his cot I wonder -is he weeping? Can he overhear the sniggering jubilation of the house slaves as they discuss his "fall from grace"? His humiliation at the hands of our new Mistress has been almost as spectacular as my own. And like me he is to suffer yet more humiliation and pain.
Stripped naked like the rest of the household slaves, he must now endure the permanent humiliation of this. Tomorrow, he is to discipline Marv for his overuse of the whip on me and immediately after he too is to be caned. He angered our Mistress and he is to be punished.
Cato has never been caned; of that I'm sure. My grandfather had never punished him and neither had I. Cato had never given us reason to do so. He'd always served us well and we'd both relied on him for the smooth running of our household. Certainly he'd ruled the house slaves with a rod -or should that be a cane -of iron. I knew he was hard on the slaves but that had never overly concerned me -after all he was charged with keeping peace and harmony in my household. And I'd always been of the opinion that slaves should be subject to firm discipline. So like my grandfather before me, I could find no fault in Cato's service to me.
Now for the first time Cato is to be caned. I try to visualise his shame at being strapped down on the caning bench with his naked body stretched out and his bare ass elevated and exposed to the cane. For Cato this will be mortifying. But then it was no less so for me last evening when I had been so publicly caned. Then Cato had applied his cane with relish and vigour and he'd not held back in caning me -his former master. So I'm not too concerned that he is to suffer as I had suffered -indeed a part of me relishes the prospect of watching as he feel s the cane bite into his buttocks. Last evening, my own ass felt the excruciating pain he'll feel tomorrow and I know that no matter how stoically he approaches his chastisement his resolve will quickly crumble. By the second or third stroke he'll be crying out in his agony -much as I had done. For me there is satisfaction in that he's to receive the same number of strokes -twenty-that I had received. Then I remember I had also received extra strokes to the backs of my legs for my bad behaviour. Part of me hopes that Cato will "play up" and earn additional strokes of the cane. There would be a sense of "serve him right" in that for me.
Of course, Cato's ordeal will be painful and like me he'll have no other option but to endure it. Our Master has ordered his punishment and there can be no going back. But will Cato beg our Master for mercy as I had done last night? Even as I begged, I knew none would be shown to me but a slave's fear of the cane is overwhelming and he has nothing to lose and perhaps something to gain by pleading for mercy. And there are many Master's who expect their slaves to beg for a leniency that won't be shown to them.
And for Cato there is the exquisite irony in that he must first cane Marv before he is punished. I wonder what his thoughts will be as he applies the cane to Marv's ass. In the dining-room, our Master and Mistress had taunted Cato with this as they ate their meals. Ignoring Cato-indeed all of us were ignored -they'd discussed Cato's punishment in great detail. It was evident to me that the Mistress relished her power over Cato. She'd pointed out to our Master that he must be on his guard against Cato tomorrow as he canes Marv in case he "holds back" in his use of the cane. Our Master responded that he'll watch Cato "very closely" and if he feels that he is holding back then Cato will receive an additional stroke for each unsatisfactory stroke he'd given to Marv. Both our Master and Mistress found amusement in this and laughed at Cato's obvious discomfiture. As I looked at Cato, I thought I saw his powerful frame tremble slightly.
Over their dinner, our Master and his grandmother continued to show callous disregard for Cato's feelings. Not content with discussing tomorrow's punishment, they then had a long discourse on the most appropriate time to sell him. Charlotte was in favour of a "quick" sale offering the opinion that it would be better for our Master to be free of Cato at the earliest opportunity. As usual our Master deferred to his grandmother and promised he'd look in at the slave-dealers, Schuster and Hanson's, tomorrow and arrange to have Cato sold. Our Master did however, state he considered Cato to be a very valuable slave and that he wouldn't be sold at a bargain basement price.
I was to share in Cato's distress. Once they'd finished talking about Cato they turned their attention to me and discussed my upcoming branding and circumcision. I had to stand in silence as I was spoken of as some dumb, uncomprehending, domestic animal. Of course, I'd been guilty of similar behaviour as a Master; it had never entered my thinking that this dismissal of a slave could be so hurtful to him. But then what Master -or Mistress - would ever consider a slave's feelings. In my experience it would be a very rare slave-owner who did so.
Standing in their presence, I was very conscious of my nakedness and at the effect all this talk of "skinning" was having on my cock. I could feel the involuntary shrivelling of my balls as they sought refuge closer to my body and my cock shrank to a miniscule apology of its customary impressiveness. All this talk about punishing Cato and of my own skinning and branding had an unsettling affect upon all five of us serving our Master and Mistress and I was glad when Guy suddenly changed the subject.
"Grandmama! How much time would you require to organise a smallish function?"
"What type of function do you have in mind, Guy? How smallish?"
"Oh! Nothing too elaborate. I'm thinking of a simple "getting to know the neighbours" type of affair. You know - nibbles and drinks. It's just that all our neighbours -or at least the menfolk - were waiting to welcome me into the neighbourhood when I arrived here from the courts yesterday. I thought that was very gracious of them and I would like to repay their kindness by inviting them and their wives over to formally meet us."
"And when do you envisage doing that?" Charlotte asks tartly. "I'm not sure you should involve yourself too much with your neighbours, Guy. After all you DO now have a position to maintain and I shouldn't think you'll be mixing with them socially."
"You are most probably right about my not mixing socially with them Grandmama, but in the interests of maintaining good relations, I would like, at the very least, to be on a nodding acquaintance with them. Anyway, they have a perfectly natural curiosity about Rafe and I think it will be good for them to see their former neighbour in his new role."
"Yes I take your point, Guy. It will be good for Rafe too to be introduced to them as a slave. What role is he to play at your little soiree?"
"I thought we could use him to serve as one of the waiters. That way they would see him in action. What do you think?"
"What an excellent suggestion." Charlotte has warmed to this idea of further humiliating me in front of my former neighbours, "When do you me to organise it for you?"
"What about the night after next?"
"That soon? Its short notice but no - I can organise something for you. It won't be too elaborate but then it doesn't need to be -after all it's only for the neighbours. Yes, I can do that. But won't you have a problem with Rafe? I thought the slave is to be branded and circumcised that day? If so, I would think he'd be unavailable to serve."
"Oh! Don't worry about that, I'll simply delay his procedures until after our little get-together. Thank you, Grandmama."
I heave a sigh of relief. I have a reprieve from my branding and skinning. True, it's only a brief reprieve but any reprieve is a welcome one.
"I'll get onto first it thing tomorrow morning, Guy." My Mistress adds with new enthusiasm, "I'll have Cato deliver invitations to all the neighbours personally and instruct him on what needs to be done in the way of preparation. You know Guy; I'm quite warming to your idea. It's been quite some time since I've organised something on this scale. I quite like the idea of playing hostess."
I spare a thought for poor Cato, who tomorrow must deliver the invitations by hand in his newly acquired state of nakedness. It would seem that our Master and Mistress will use every opportunity to further humiliate and demean both of us.
Thankfully for me, my introduction to serving in the dining-room went without mishap. True, I held back as much as I could and allowed my fellow slaves to carry the burden of responsibility, but even this went without notice and I was greatly relieved when finally our Master and his grandmother rose from the table and left the room. However, our work wasn't over. We had to clear the table and make the room ready for breakfast. Then it was down to the scullery -adjoining the kitchen - where we spent the next hour washing up after the meal.
It has been a long, hard day for me, first on the woodheap and then in the dining-room. My body aches from the unaccustomed labour, I am very tired and my nerves are fraught. I am ready for rest and sleep and I gladly accompany Cato to the stables where he places me in my night chains and locks me into the stall I now share with Norge.
My first full day of slavery is finally over.
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It's so comforting to lie next to Norge and to feel the warm hardness of his body in such close contact with my own; I am desperately in need of his strength and support but tonight he has given me a new contentment. I feel the steady rise and fall of his powerful chest as he gently inhales and exhales and I tighten my arms around him in an effort to draw him closer into me. He is in a deep sleep and I'm not surprised; from what I'd overheard our Master tell his grandmother, Norge had a hard day. Placed in harness at first light this morning, he'd been driven solidly all day by our Master and even his great strength and endurance would have been sorely tested by the demands made upon him.
I am overwhelmingly grateful to Norge for his generous support of me and I remind myself that I am undeserving of it. Yet I am thankful for it.
When Cato unlocked the door to the stall and instructed me to enter I did so and stood looking down on Norge's sleeping figure unsure of what to do next. I wanted to lie down beside him but my guilt prevented me from doing so. Norge had welcomed me into his stall last night and had sustained me through that awful, first night of my slavery. He doesn't know the depth of my gratitude to him for this gesture of kindness to me; one day, when I have the confidence to do so, I will tell him.
Perhaps it was the sound of Cato's key in the lock that disturbed him. He stirred and stretched into wakefulness and seeing me standing there, he smiled and patted the straw alongside of him. It was an invitation to 'come lie by me" and one I eagerly accepted. As I settled myself by his side, a subdued Cato ordered us to 'settle down and rest" telling us we both had a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. I saw the look of surprise and askance in Norge's eyes as he saw Cato's new nakedness for the first time. I had much to tell Norge.
Now alone in the gloom of our stall -how quickly I have come to regard it as "our" stall -Norge embraces me and sensing my distress he gently strokes my face. By that simple gesture he releases the floodgates of my emotions and through my tears, I hear myself blurting out all my fears; my terror of the branding iron and of the skinning knife - but most of all the shame and humiliation I now feel as a slave. I tell him of our Master's plan to invite the neighbours to a "soiree" where I am to serve naked as a waiter.
He listens patiently and waits for my tears to dry up and my words to cease. Then drawing me even tighter into him -if that is possible - he tells me in a firm tone of voice that I must accept the inevitability of my "changed circumstances" and begin to think as a slave. He tells me there is no other alternative open to me and as I listen, I grow calmer and recognise the wisdom of what he is saying.
He tells me of the hardships that confront me and of the many adjustments I must now make in my transition from free man to slave. He speaks from his own experiences and wisely he doesn't minimise the situation. He tells me the immediate future will be very difficult for me but like all new slaves I too will come to a reluctant but full acceptance of my new station in life. He warns me that I must not "fight" against this or cause my Master any concerns. He further warns me any such contest will be uneven and unwinnable -that the Master ALWAYS wins over a slave. Obviously, he speaks from his own experiences with me as his Master and his words both sting and wound me. But as a former Master, I know he speaks the truth and as a slave I recognise the wisdom of his words.
Nevertheless, I continue with my self-pity and I tell Norge of my absolute fear of being sent into the fields at "La Foret" to work as a field slave, of my terror of the overseers whips and of the rigours I must undergo in my "pony-training".
He listens and sighs deeply -almost out of exasperation with me - and if I was expecting sympathy from him then I'm to be disappointed. He tells me brusquely,
"You'll survive," and adds with a touch of bitterness, "I did."
The irony of his words cuts through my pre-occupation with my own fate -I had minimised the suffering he'd undergone at my hands - and I'm so sorry that I had uttered them. In my thoughtlessness, I had diminished his pain at the expense of my own. Now in my remorse, I hug him closer to me and tell him,
"Norge, I'm so sorry."
He squeezes me in a tight embrace before disentangling himself from me and moving his head down to my groin. Unexpectedly, I feel the delightful touch of his warm, moist tongue massaging my balls much as he'd done so many times before. And as I'd always done at such moments, I arched my body and heard my soft, appreciative moans of pleasure.
Temporarily, my worries vanish and I give myself over completely to Norge's ministrations. Once more, I imagine myself as his Master being pleasured by him and I reach out to draw his head closer to me.
Relentlessly, he continues to work me with his tongue and I squirm beneath his persistence. I move my legs further apart to give him greater access to my balls and I arch my back upwards in eager anticipation of what I know comes next. Ever so slowly, he teases -no torments - the super sensitive area between my scrotum and anus with the flickering tip of his tongue and my nerves -now stimulated into violent re-action - carry the messages of my pleasure to my brain. My body quivers from his onslaught and my soft moans give way to loud cries of ecstatic happiness. I hold his head in my hands and hold it tightly; selfishly I want more from him and in response he wraps his mouth around my cock drawing it into a warm, moist embrace. As in the past, I demand much from Norge and as always he doesn't disappoint me; he gives generously of himself to ensure my pleasure.
My mind is closed to all else but Norge. All my fears and concerns disappear and I'm oblivious of all else but him. My terror of the branding iron and the skinning knife are temporarily forgotten and even the horrors that await me at "La Foret" recede into nothingness as Norge's mouth slides slowly up and down the hard shaft of my cock while his tongue tantalises its myriad of nerve ends. Countless little volts of pleasure surge through my eager, hungry body in response.
Norge draws my cock deeper into the recesses of his mouth. This always amazes me. I am well- endowed and I marvel at the ease with which Norge is able to accommodate me. But I'm not complaining. I feel the working of his tongue and the squeezing of his throat muscles as he continues to "milk" me and I shiver at the exquisite throbbing of my cock and the delightful churning of my balls. I am so wrapped in the ecstasy of the moment that I lose all awareness of time.
For how long this continues, I don't know. Then, I feel my rising passion followed by the inevitable opening of the floodgates as I reach my climax. I hold Norge's head down on my cock and I feel the tight contractions of his throat as he swallows hard. It's impossible to describe my sense of happiness and wellbeing and it is all due to Norge. I am strangely content and we lie in each other's strong embrace and wait patiently for my subsidence.
It is at that moment that I realise the true depth of my feelings for him. I'd been entranced by him from the moment I first saw him standing lost and bewildered at the slave-dealers. Then it had been my lust that had aroused me and caused me to buy him. Of course, as his Master, I'd treated him badly and I now regret this. But what I now feel for Norge isn't cheap lust; it is something much nobler than that.
Over the past two nights, Norge has demonstrated his selflessness and generosity of spirit to me; he has comforted me and eased me into my own slavery. It would have been understandable -at least from my point of view -if he'd simply ignored me and turned his back to me. That I would have expected.
Instead, he'd shown me kindness and compassion and had awakened in me emotions I'd not known I was capable of; now I'm able to look beyond my own self-centredness and see in Norge all that is good and I'm humbled by him. As I gaze fondly at him - lying beside me - I no longer see him as a lowly slave but as the beautiful and noble person he is. And for the first time in my life I look beyond myself and realise that I am capable of loving another man more than myself even if that man is a slave.
There is a sense of liberation in this for me. I didn't ask to become a slave -indeed I wish with all my heart that this isn't so. But I am a slave and I possess nothing except my love for Norge and that is all I can give him.
Tomorrow night, it will be my turn to demonstrate my love as I take his cock into my mouth. It will be the first time, I have done this. Formerly as a Master such an action would have been unthinkable. Now as a slave, it seems perfectly natural for me to do so.
But for now, I draw closer to Norge and leaning my face into his, I kiss him with all the gratitude that my heart allows.
The pain of this first full day of my slavery is behind me and the horrors of tomorrow and all the days to come are still before me. But with Norge by my side, I feel stronger and more confident that I will survive.
I consider our Master's plans for us and I know eventually we are to run together as a matched pair of naked ponies. For me there will be shame and humiliation in this as I am exposed to the curious gaze of my former friends and acquaintances. But I know there will also be happiness for me as I work with Norge. And who knows? There might even be pride in pacing myself against his powerful stride.
Shortly, we'll both awake to a new day of toil; Norge will be harnessed to our Master's cart and I to one of the heavy lawnmowers. But for now all this is temporarily forgotten and I lie contented in Norge's arms.
To be continued. .....