Dad and Me

Dad And Me by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 30

Well, although I did trust Jeff - he was stupidly honest, even when he didn't need to be - I made sure that microphones picked up his conversation with dad. Chas was sent out to work in the far corner of the pleasure grounds and dad was assigned to digging in the vegetable plot for the rest of the afternoon after the studding, and so it was "inevitable" that Jeff, setting out tot talk to the studs, came across dad.

I was not worried at all, as I knew dad was still feeling guilt about having been enslaved, and of course I knew that studding appealed to his sense of "being a man". I've got the whole conversation still, somewhere, but as I recall it now, Jeff first of all asked dad if he deserved to be a slave - and was of course surprised to hear dad say "Yes. I see now that what I did was stupid. I did it for the right reasons, but that's no excuse, is it? You can do the right thing for the wrong reasons, but you must never do the wrong thing - even for the right reasons. I was wrong to defraud the taxpayers, and the IRS had ever right to bring the case against me."

Then when he went on to ask dad about studding, he seemed almost shocked. "Look, sir", dad said. "I'm a man. And men need sex, sir. I was married, had a kid... So I know there's nothing wrong with sex with women. But when I was enslaved and they introduced me to proper sex, sir, well, I mean, once you've had real sex, that's what you do for fun, isn't it? But you still need to do the breeding kind, I guess, so if that's what I'm ordered to do, I do it. It's not as good, of course, and I'm lucky that here at Manderleigh that me and Chas and Juan all work together and are caged together at night so there's lots of proper sex. But there's nothing wrong with studding, sir - I don't mind fucking women, really. If you've never done it sir, you can give it a try - it's not as good as proper sex, as I say, but a lot of men never find that out and always put up with second best."

I thought that would have clinched it, but Jeff seemed to be clutching at straws now. "But they keep you naked, with that ring around your dick.... You're half erect, even now...."

"Sir, have you ever worked naked? Or even exercised naked? You look as if you exercise, sir. Well you'll know that it can really make your balls ache, and having the cinch rings like this really helps as it kind of holds me. And I've got nothing to be ashamed of anyway, have I, sir? And it's not cold down here - well, not most of the time. In fact it's too fucking hot, and humid, most of the year. So working naked is fine, in fact, compared to sweat-soaked chafing clothes, it's an advantage, actually." I smiled to myself as I heard this, as Jeff had been complaining about aching balls himself that very morning and would know that dad was right.

"But that ring..."

"The snout ring, sir? Well, it did take a bit of getting used to. But Chas and I quite like it now - well, I mean, when there are new slaves here, they can tell straight away that Chas and I are special, can't they? Juan isn't allowed one, as he isn't allowed to stud. It marks us out as special."

Jeff just shrugged as if in exasperation and walked away at that point.

That night I made sure Jeff had a stiff drink before dinner, and a few beers with it. Afterwards, as we sat in the study, I said "Well, do I owe you another month's salary?"

"No..."

"Ah! So the slave did believe he deserved it. And he does like studding...?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. That's what he said."

"And do you think I coerced him? Do you think Stryker told him he'd be flayed alive if he didn't give you the 'right' answers?"

"No, sir... I don't think you'd do that. Well, not for something relatively unimportant I guess he was telling the truth..."

How wrong he was! If I hadn't been certain that dad would tell the story I wanted, he would have certainly been threatened. When you're in a contest, EVERY victory is important. But I just said simply "So you owe me a forfeit!"

"I guess so."

"Well now, you're sure you don't want to pay me a month's salary? I'll make it easy for you and make that a month after taxes and your living expenses..."

"There's no need to do that. I can pay my debts..."

"You're looking at a couple of months without any money, then...."

"Yes, but I'm going for the forfeit...."

I looked at him, and he looked kind of defiant, as if he knew that he wasn't going to like what was coming next. "So if it's not money-related, it has to be something to do with you, then doesn't it, Jeff?"

"I guess so."

"You know you've got a nice body, don't you? You're handsome, fit.... A bit of a treat for the eye, some might say."

"Well, yes...." He was cautious now.

"But you don't show it all that much, Jeff. Look at how hard it was to get you to swim naked this morning, and then consider how much you enjoyed it. I think you need to learn that a body like that deserves to be seen. So for the next month whenever you're in the apartment or here at Manderleigh, and we don't have guests, I want you to go around naked.... No, actually, I think I'd like to see you wearing one of the waiter's summer uniforms..."

"Sir, please... I can't do that..."

"Why not? We're all men around here. It's not as if you were exposing yourself to women or anything."

"Sir, please, no...."

"Oh, suit yourself. If you want everyone to know that you won't pay up on a bet, that's OK by me."

"Sir...."

"Pay up, Jeff.... "

He got to his feet, and I knew I had him! Twice before he'd been "forced" to strip in front of me - once when I'd saved him in the police cells in New York, and that night when he'd lost so disastrously at poker with Tony and Miles. I'd seen him naked a lot since then as we changed after exercising or swimming, so it ought not to have been a big deal for him. But clearly it was - and this made it more of a pleasure for me, as I was furthering my plans to have him totally under my control and obeying my every order.

I watched impassively as he pulled off his sneakers and socks, and then undid those wonderfully tight jeans and eased them down over his thighs and off over his feet. He went to pull his T off, but I said quietly "No, the briefs first....", and he shrugged and pushed down the snug grey cotton to follow his jeans into a crumpled heap onto the floor. I desperately wanted to grab my own dick and free it from its imprisonment in my pants, but knew that anything like this would spoil the moment, so I settled myself a little on the couch and said quietly "And finally the T, Jeff."

There's something hugely erotic about a guy who's naked except for a T pulling it over his head, I think. For one thing, when he's still got it on, it kind of draws attention to his nudity, especially when, like Jeff, the hem of it just hovers on the top of neatly trimmed and shortened pubes and you can clearly see the dick hanging there over shaved balls. But then, especially if the guy does as Jeff did and crosses his hands in front of him, grabs the hem and pulls his arms upwards, you get a really special sight: the belly tightens as the arms are raised, it's revealed, tantalisingly, and the dick is pulled slightly upwards by all the muscle movement. Almost as good is the fact that as the nips come into view - also sharply in focus because the arms are moving and stretching the pecs - the guy's head is covered and so for a couple of glorious seconds you can see all of his body as it's there in front of you, and he can't see you admiring it.

It's over all to soon of course, but then you have the man in front of you, looking slightly awkward as naked men somehow seem to in the presence of the clothed.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" My tone was light, almost jovial. "Now let's get you something to wear."

I snapped my fingers and one of the young waiters who is always lurking at the edge of the room in the shadows at once came forward and bowed. I ordered him to kneel so that it was more convenient for me to undo the thin gold chain around his waist, and then dismissed him.

Jeff was just standing there, looking almost shocked.

I thought about ordering him to put the loincloth on himself, but realised in time that it gave me a real opportunity for feeling his body. So I got up off the couch and approached him. "Now, the trick of this is to get it low enough so that we don't have to use a huge piece of silk", I told him confidently, "But not so low that it slips over the hips. It can be a problem with the younger slaves with underdeveloped bodies, but for a man like you with a proper physique it's easy - here...."

I stood in front of him and put the chain around him, way below his belly button, then reached around to fasten it at the back, allowing my hands to feel his butt muscles as I did so. I went behind him and fiddled with the fastening, all the time saying things like "We need it really low down, as I said, but it's easy for you as there's no danger of it sliding down over that butt of yours." and "It's just below the top of your ass crack... Shuffle around a bit, will you, as when your butt moves I want to make sure it's not cutting into you..."

I think I could actually see a blush of embarrassment rising on his body as I did this, making his shoulders just a touch pinker than before I started! I went around to the front of him again, and put my finger in-between the chain and his body, and moved it from side to side. "Not too tight, is it?", I asked, knowing that he would have felt the my finger against his warm skin and in his trimmed pubes.

"No, it's OK. But sir, do I have to do this...?"

"No, Jeff, you don't have to do it. You're not a slave, remember - I saved you from that. You're a free man, and you don't have to do anything you don't want to. But I don't think Stryker, or Tony, or Miles, or me, for that matter, would think very much of you if we knew you were the kind of guy who didn't make good on a bet.... You're not like that, are you, Steve?"

"No, sir." I had him again. It was so easy to manipulate Jeff.

"Yes, I know that. Now, stand still whilst I fit the flap...."

The slaves' loincloths at Manderleigh are just rectangles of thin white silk that hang over the gold chain. I think a big guy like Jeff would normally get one at least two inches wider and two or three inches longer than the one I now threaded under the chain, but I'd taken this one off the young slave to remind Jeff that this was "slave wear", and having it too small just added to its eroticism as far as I was concerned. You know how these flaps are- they're wide enough to cover the dick and balls, and when hanging with the two ends at the same length, they should just clear the tip of the dick. On Jeff you could just see his big ball sac on either side of the silk, and the last quarter inch of his dick was visible even when he was standing stock still - the whole thing is designed to show glimpses of the slave as he moves around, of course, and clever slaves get to know how to minimise their movements to provide them with maximum concealment - but there was no chance of even this for Jeff.

I went and sat down on the couch, and said "There! All done...."

"Sir, please, don't make me go around like this..."

" I'm not making you do anything! Would you rather go around totally naked, then?"

"No, sir, but...."

"Jeff, what's the problem? You're not ashamed of your body, are you?"

"No, sir..."

"Well then...?"

"Sir, it's just so.... Well, sir, it's so fucking humiliating!"

"Don't be so stupid! There's only you, me and the slaves here, and most of them are wearing the same thing. You'll soon get used to it - by the time Tony and Miles come around for poker next week, you won't even think about it..."

"Sir, you said when we were alone...."

"Well, I make an exception for Tony and Miles, as they're such old friends, and you know them too - they're regular guys, and they've anyway seen you naked, at our last poker game. Mind you, we'd better not get on to strip poker again... You wouldn't have much to gamble with!"

"Sir, please.... I feel like a slave!"

My dick stirred again as he said this, and I knew I was sliming my boxers with pre-cum. But I continued to play it cool. "Jeff, let's have an end of it, shall we? You're not a salve, you're a free man, a man with options. It's your choice - pay the forfeit, or not, as you please. Now, be so good as to go over and pour me a drink - I think there's a bottle of Pouligny-Montrachet in the ice bucket - and have a glass yourself, or one of those beers you're so fond of. That proves you're not a slave - slaves aren't allowed to drink alcohol."

If my dick was causing me problems before, it was disaster as Jeff walked across the room: not only was it a total turn-on to see him naked in the room like this, but the thin gold chain stretched around him, so low down, sank in to his skin slightly and emphasises the different motions of each half of his butt as he moved. I just had to shift in my seat and clutch at my crotch to try to make more room for my dick as it reared upwards. And as he fiddled around at the drinks trolley, and used the old fashioned corkscrew to open the wine, the play of his muscles was a delight to behold. He came back towards me, and it was just as I'd hoped - his dick swung from side to side as his big feet padded across the rug and the polished wood of the floor, exposing itself to me in a way that was so much more exciting than if he'd done the same thing totally bare-assed.

He held the glass out to me, and I said calmly "Although you're not a slave, Jeff, you might at least play at being one when you're in 'uniform': haven't you seen how the slaves offer drinks? Kneel down!"

I felt sure he was going to argue, but maybe I was getting to him. He sank to his knees, holding the glass out in front of him, and I was massively tempted to move the toe of my shoe upwards and stroke his dick and balls as he knelt there. I restrained myself, though - this could come later, and, anyway, I'd enjoy it more without shoes on. So I just thanked him and told him he could come and sit on the couch and watch TV. "See", I said, "There's another thing - have you ever seen a slave sit on the furniture?"

It was amusing to see him settle that lovely muscled body down onto the couch then vainly try to arrange the tiny scrap of silk to cover his tackle. I deliberately selected an adventure movie with really good actors and an excellent plot but which was known for the steamy scenes between two of the principal characters, and before long, the inevitable happened. I glanced down and there was Jeff's dick, erect, having thrust aside the totally inadequate scrap of silk. He saw me looking and his reaction was priceless - his hands shot down to try to cover himself.

"Hey, I know it's pretty raunchy, Jeff", I said, laughing, "But you're not going to jerk off, are you? I don't want cum all over the upholstery. And I thought you were shy of exposing your body to me!"

I didn't sleep all that well that night - I was awake at about three with erotic thoughts streaming through my head and had to jerk off before there was any chance of sleeping again. I toyed with the idea of just calling the slave in and getting him to do it, or even of having a quick fuck, but my mind was full of Jeff and I kind of lingered over the whole thing, deliberately slacking off the pace if I felt I was about to cum. However well trained a slave is, he never quite gets that right, does he?

When I woke, I was looking forward to seeing Jeff when we worked out before breakfast, but my mood of eager anticipation was very much dampened by the need to deal with dad, too: I just couldn't postpone that any longer and resolved to fix it today.

I'll say this for Jeff, having decided to pay my forfeit, he stuck to it and when I went into the breakfast room on that Sunday morning he was there in his loincloth, looking strangely out of place with his big muscled body contrasting with the slim boyish ones of the slaves.

"Let's work out before we eat, shall we?", I asked. "It's a good morning for a run, then a swim.... And I won't stick to our forfeit for the run..."

"Thank you, sir...."

"No", I continued, cutting in, "I'll let you wear running shoes as well as your loincloth, as you're not used to running barefoot and it can damage your arches unless you get used to it gradually."

"If you're worried about my arches, sir.... Well, remember how we talked about working and running naked...."

"You're right, Jeff. How thoughtless of me. I don't want you having sore balls and complaining all the way back to New York." I snapped an order to one of the slaves and a few moments later he came back with one of those leather cock straps - the sort that's a few inches long and about half an inch wide with some press fasteners on it.

"What's this...?" he asked.

"Wrap it around your balls and dick, right at the root, and use the tightest press fastener you can - it's easier than getting a conventional cock ring on. It will make your balls and dick stick out a bit - not as good as a proper cinch band that real slaves wear, but it will give you some support.

"I don't think so..."

"Suit yourself, Jeff - you're a free man. But don't complain to me tonight about aching balls...."

It was as if he was embarrassed to be doing it, as he turned his back to me to put the cock ring on, but after a couple of minutes fiddling around, in which I'd been rewarded the consolation prize of seeing his shoulder and back muscles slide over each other as he struggled with the thing, we were ready for the off. At first I really enjoyed it - there's something that's a real turn on about a guy running in the nude except for a cock ring and running shoes. But I didn't get long to revel in it before I was really struggling: as if to revenge himself, Jeff had set a killer fast pace and, as I've told you, the grounds at Manderleigh are gently undulating and running uphill tires you much more. He seemed indefatigable, and ran back and forth, shouting and swearing at me to keep up, and before long I was covered in sweat and my lungs and heart were really straining.

When we got back I almost collapsed with exhaustion, and Jeff just stood there with a smug grin on his face. "Swim now then, sir?", he asked. "I'm really ready for more..."

I know he was testing me, and a lot of men won't admit defeat in circumstances like that. But I'm not afraid to admit that some things are beyond me and just said quietly "Later! I need to recover. That was some work out...."

"Not if you're really fit, sir."

"Jeff, you don't really know what fitness is! Sure, you can run, and do press-ups and chin lifts and are good in the gym, but real fitness is being able to work and work hard, hour after hour after hour. Now some of the slaves here are fit..."

"Sure, there's a difference between instantaneous power and sustained work - when I was in the forces, on long route marches up and down hills with a heavy backpack, I could do it. And I still can."

"Are you after another bet?"

"No, sir! But I do understand my own body."

"So do you want to have a really tough work session this morning - I've got some papers I must go through. Or is it all just talk, Jeff?"

"Hey, there isn't anything here that I couldn't do. I saw all those niggas in your coffles, and it doesn't look that hard, digging and hoeing and picking the stones out and stuff..."

"Oh, I think we can find something.... Come with me!"

It was grass mowing day, and I'd seen dad and Chas and Juan toiling with the big double-gang mower, so I led Jeff over to the top of the slope and waited until the

sweating slaves came up the hill again. Dad and Chas were pulling it with Juan "driving" the mower, and I stopped them and said to Jeff "This is real hard work.

Think you can do this until lunchtime?"

"Sure!"

"These slaves have to work really hard you know, Jeff - they can't just rely on themselves to do the best job possible - especially as the morning wears on and they tire, we need to 'encourage' the extra ten per cent out of them."

"What extra ten percent?"

I had to explain to Jeff about the body's hidden reserves, and how it was only in response to external stimulus, in this instance the tawse, that the brain could be made to tell the body to give its all. He sounded doubtful, and said it was pseudo science and they'd never done that in the forces, and I shrugged and said "Well, it's pretty much standard practice in salve management, in all the text books. If you don't believe me, are you man enough to try it?"

As ever, if you push the right buttons, it's easy enough to get a man to do what you want, and by suggesting that Jeff might not be up to it, he almost demanded to do it.

I ordered Chas out of the harness, and held it out to Jeff. The leather was already wet and slimy from Chas' sweat, and was giving out that agreeable scent of wet leather and maleness, and as Jeff slipped it on and stood next to dad, I almost saw myself there, as we had been for so many years. Two big naked guys, the only real difference between them being that dad's dick and balls were permanently cinched out a lot, whereas Jeff's were much looser being held only by the leather cock ring - oh, and of course as they turned, there was no big brand on Jeff's butt, and no tattoo to spoil the lines of his muscular back and shoulders.

I speculated for a moment as to whether I would eventually have Jeff branded and tattooed, but then came back to the present and ordered Chas to "drive", and Juan to run alongside them all and to ensure they kept up a really fast pace, handing him the tawse as I did so, so he understood what I meant.

None of my papers got reviewed that morning, as I was too intent on sitting there watching them toil up and down the lawns. Juan didn't spare dad and Jeff, and when they were nearest the house, I could hear that characteristic "slap" that the tawse makes on bare skin. There was that wonderful scent of newly-mown grass in the air, and I'm sure, though, that it was my imagination that supplied overtones of male sweat as even though I could see all four of them covered in it, I know I was too far away to actually really get it in my nose.

As slaves at work, they didn't stop at all, not even for a short break, and when I finally called a halt as lunch was about to be served and I wanted to eat with Jeff, it looked to me as if he could barely walk back up to the terrace. He stood there in front of me, literally covered in sweat, with lots of the short mown grass clinging to his calves and thighs. He seemed to have forgotten all his worries about nudity, as his dick, under the influence of the cock ring, was sticking right up. I told him to turn around, and his back, butt and thighs were a livid red, overlaid with stripes of an even darker hue, where the tawse had not only caressed him but had been wielded with enough force to cause bruising. Still, there didn't seem to be any permanent damage - he'd not be able to lie on his back for a few days, but he'd recover.

He stood there in that pose of the utterly exhausted, like you see at the end of marathons - head and shoulders bent, and his hands pressing on his knees to take some of the strain. "So, Jeff, convinced? Anything left to give now?"

"No, sir."

"Think about those slaves, though: they've got to continue doing it this afternoon, unless Stryker has arranged another studding for them...."

"But that tawse... "

"Jeff, I told you that we need to make the slaves give everything: they'd just operate at low efficiency otherwise. And there's no permanent damage, not like a whipping - only that initial sting, and the after glow, to remind your brain to keep your body at it. Anyway, time for lunch - go and wash all that grass and sweat off you: exciting though your smell is, I don't want it spoiling my food."

I watched him under the outdoor shower by the pool as he struggled to get the cock ring off, then just stood there under the jets of water as if they'd somehow wash away his utter exhaustion, He walked back very slowly, still naked, not even bothering to wrap a towel around himself.

"It's not right, sir....", he began after he'd wolfed down a big portion of the lasagne that we were having.

"Not only the tawse, but we never stopped..."

"Of course not. We don't waste the time of the slaves in little rest breaks and so on."

"But not even to piss! It wasn't until I saw Joe letting a stream fly as we walked along that I realised we weren't even going to be able to use a proper restroom...."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Jeff! What do you think this is?

The bank, where we have to give up about ten percent of every floor to restrooms and stuff? These are slaves , Jeff, and they can just piss as they go along - it doesn't harm the grass. It would be different if I was one of those owners who gets some sort of kick from seeing bitches harnessed to the mowers, as their urine would leave dead patches. But a man's piss causes no problems..."

"But sir, it's not that - who cares about your fucking grass! It's treating them like animals... They've got no self respect...."

"That's what slaves are, Jeff - animals. They're my property, remember? And you're wrong about the 'self respect' stuff - I know I keep them naked, they have to piss as they work, and they stud in public, stuff like that. But those slaves still have some self respect - didn't Joe tell you how proud he was to be a stud, and how he was proud to wear the snout ring that marks him out as prime breeding stock?"

"But, sir..."

Our conversation - if that's what it was, as I was calm and collected as ever, but Jeff was getting more and more argumentative and his voice was steadily rising - was interrupted at this point as Stryker came up, holding a portable PC.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, and I know you hate 'New York' intruding down here, but one of your subordinates called Manderleigh a few minutes ago and was absolutely insistent on speaking with you. I told him you had left standing orders never to be disturbed on the weekends, and he was quite abusive, sir. 'Listen, fucker', he'd screamed, 'Go and tell Mr Masters that if he doesn't call Tony in the next half hour the sky will fall in on him! And if you don't, and you're a slave, he'll have your balls, and if you're part of the hired help, you'll be on the streets!' It did sound very important, sir, so I thought you might wish to be informed..."

I almost snatched the PC out of Stryker's hands and flipped the lid open and pressed the keys to get Tony. As soon as the screen lit up he at once began "Thank god, Steve! I thought those idiots down there would fuck up your life for ever! Get your ass back to New York, now - there's no time to lose. A secret board meeting has been engineered for four this afternoon and the word is that it's to appoint a new CEO! They didn't tell me and Miles, but all the other bloodsuckers will be there, I believe. Don't hang around, Steve, get that jet of your fired up...."

"Are you certain? I've got important business here this afternoon."

"Believe me, Steve. Yes."

I snapped the lid shut, and fired off orders to the slaves to get the limo, alert the airport and get the jet ready, and raced across the terrace towards the house. It only took me moments to collect my important papers and a few other things, and I ran down the steps into the limo. Jeff was standing there, still naked, and I shouted "Get in, idiot, unless you want to spend a week down here..." , and we were off.

I told the slave that we wanted a record time to the airport else he'd be whipped, and just to disregard the speed limits and stop signs and such as traffic was light. Jeff sat there looking really uncomfortable - the air conditioning was on, of course, so it wad comfortable for me but chilly for him. I could almost imagine the feeling of the cold leather of the seats against his bare back and butt, and I could see his nips jutting out fierce and proud from his lovely dark aureoles as they reacted to the low temperature. This little feast for the eyes distracted me a bit from my very real concerns about the secret board meeting, but after a minute or so I relented and decided to make Jeff more comfortable. >From my bag got out Jeff's sweat pants and a T that I'd picked up as I ran through the house collecting my papers.

"Here", I said, smiling . "You only have to be naked for our bet when we're alone. I can hardly have you getting off the jet in New York like that - the place is full of fags, and they'd all be after you once they saw you!"

I watched as he struggled into the things - even in a big limo, there's not much room, and anyway seeing a guy raise his butt off the seat by arching his body up, so he can slide pants on, is always interested. When he'd "settled" his dick and stuff, he asked "Trouble, sir?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose. Since I took over running the bank there's always been criticism. I decided to pursue a strategy of investing now, to scoop the pool later. I've turned down several short-term potentially very profitable - but risky - projects in favour of diverting our resources into much longer term strategies. In ten years time we'll be the biggest, most profitable player in the world. But many of the directors disagree - their bonuses are tied to short-term results and they're old: they can't afford to wait ten years, unlike me. And the big investors - pension funds, and mutuals, people like that, all want a bit of money now and can't see that it's best to forgo that in favour of an ocean of it later. So I suspect this is by way of a coup attempt - they're having a secret meeting to unseat me."

"I thought I heard Miles discussing with you one day, sir, the question of your direct holdings and those you exercised through trusts and so on.... He was concerned that you might be breaking some rules or other about not declaring a holding above some level or other.... "

"I can see I need to be more careful with supposedly 'private' conversations! But yes, ordinarily I do control a lot of the bank stock. But a cabal of major external investors could upset things. And if I was voted off, even though I could get voted back on at the next stockholders' meeting, the damage might be done - it's harder to regain control sometimes, and so it's best never to lose it in the first place."

On the plane I was in an almost constant three way conference with Tony and Miles. "Thanks, Tony, how on earth did you find out?"

"You're fucking lucky, Steve, I'll say that for you!", he started. "First you buy Chas at just the right time, and now you find out about this... They really did keep it a close secret until they knew you were going to be away this weekend - you've not been leaving New York a lot recently and they needed time."

I felt a slight twinge of guilt - I hadn't been leaving New York as I'd been avoiding "closing" with dad. And even as I thought this, I realised that I'd once again not spoken to him, not hugged him, not sat down and talked through the future with him. I had been going to do it that Saturday, until the studding was sprung on me. Then Sunday morning, until I started playing games with Jeff, but I had definitely intended to do it after lunch... And now, here I was, en route back still not having done it. Still, there was always next weekend.

Tony was going on "Anyway, we'd have know nothing, had it not been for Billy. He's on the football team at Columbia as you know, and after the game on Saturday he went back to the apartment of one of his team mates, on the Upper East Side. Very big and expensive, he says..."

"Tony, is this about how you wheedled and bribed to get an uneducated kid into college? Or about how well Billy is doing socially? I know those of you who slum it down in the Village are always keen to break out into the rarefied air of the chic apartments uptown...."

We both laughed a bit, and Tony went on "Anyway, he was fucking the guy when they both heard the slave open the apartment door for the guy's father. Billy says the guy was terrified of his father finding them - although they were after all only doing what a lot of football players do together. Billy didn't want to stop fucking as he was about to cum, so he stuffed the guy's jock in his mouth to stifle his cries and moans, and carried on!"

"Tony, get to the point... Billy's love life isn't the issue. But I'm surprised you let him fuck around... I thought he was your boy."

"Hey, Steve, he's nineteen! Remember how you were then - every ass looks exciting, a new challenge? I think it's best to let the kid sow his wild oats a bit.... It makes him appreciate the home comforts of me even more!"

I did remember how I was at nineteen - a slave, being forced to stud. Still, I did have dad. But I felt very envious for a moment of young Billy, having the freedom to fuck who he wanted and Tony to go back to every night.

"Anyway, just as Billy's cum, and they're both lying there totally silent, kissing and stroking quietly, not daring to laugh or talk in case the father hears, Billy hears the man on the phone. He can't make it out completely through the wall, but he pricks up his ear when he hears the bank mentioned, and the names of two of three big Wall Street brokers, and some other names. He's a pretty bright kid with a good memory, so after about an hour he and his friend get dressed and say they've been 'studying'. Then over dinner he tells me about it, and I start to check out the names."

"Once I see that some of our fellow executives are talking to these names on the Street, I get worried. There's this guy in IT - a bit of a geek, a real techno-wizard, but with a nice hard body - who I've been giving it to occasionally after I saw him at the pool, so I call him up and we go down to the bank. He's flattered that I want to fuck him on a Saturday night - well, we hit a couple of the usual bars first and he's kind of proud to show his regular fuck buddies that he can snare a handsome older hunk like me - and I 'persuade' him to break into the executive e-mail and diary system."

"You mean the one we paid all that money for, with the unbreakable encryption, only for executives, as we were worried about the other employees finding out really confidential stuff...?"

"Yes. That one. It seems it's not so 'unbreakable' if you're a real computer geek and have privileged access to our systems as you're in IT.... He was bragging about it but said that he wouldn't do it, of course, as it's a criminal offence that could lead to enslavement.... But after he'd been taught a little lesson by my dick and was in a more relaxed mood, he was 'persuaded'. So as he slept off the sex, I read a whole lot of stuff that's been flying around recently, and some of them have even been stupid enough to block the time in their private diaries!"

"Great, Tony. So now what?"

"Four this afternoon, in our very own board room."

"Can they do this, Miles?"

"Yes, although it's unusual. Normally all board members have to be given two weeks notice of a meeting. But in 'exceptional' circumstances a meeting can be called instantly, although then there must be at least three quarters of members present. And the board can elect who it likes to run the company."

"Bastards!", I snapped. Heads will roll for this. And I'm unhappy about the security of our systems, too."

I saw Tony smile wolfishly on his half of the screen. "Still, some good comes of this - I called the cops and my little geek is even now waiting to be auctioned: he knew it was illegal, so he's only got himself to blame. But I've fancied his body for a long time and thought that he'd make a good personal body slave for me. I'll get the bank to buy him, as with a body like his, and as he's a whitey, he'll be very expensive, far more than I'd want to pay personally. Then the bank can rent him back to me for a 'reasonable' rent - shall we say a dollar a month? I take it that's OK, boss?"

"Of course, Tony. I really owe you. And a dollar a month will be fine - providing I'm still boss, that is!"

End Of Part Thirty