My New Slave

MY NEW SLAVE By Pete Brown.

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

Part Four

Steve turned around as his shorts were pulled down, looking over his broad shoulders at me. This was already further evidence of his wrong attitude, and for a moment I thought he might even dare to protest.

As I have said, there is absolutely nothing wrong in being a pony, and a slave like Steve ought to be glad to be serving me like this at my time of need. Instead of that his whole body stance shrieked anger and defiance, and so I decided that he did need to be humiliated - he evidently thought that being stripped was humiliation, but of course that is not so: I always run my ponies naked, and that's the norm here on my estate and there's absolutely nothing wrong with it at all - so what could I do? The answer came to me immediately, and I called "Dan, I think you've done enough for today. Come and sit here by me on the trap so I can enjoy you as Steve pulls us on, to the packing sheds."

Dan climbed up next to me - the trap is really only for one person, so his body was pressed very agreeably close to me. It would be a problem for Steve, I knew - not only would it be much harder to pull the trap with Dan's additional hundred and fifty pounds in it, but he'd be jealous of him being in such close contact with me, a favour he had always been denied. "Ride on!", I snapped to Steve, using the traditional term to get a pony moving, and I thought Steve would for a moment refuse - but he slowly began to walk, and then moved up to a light jog.

I put my arm around Dan's shoulder to hold him steady as we moved along, and so I had the double pleasure of feeling his strong young body pressed close to me as I watched Steve's muscular body running away in front of me, his strong beautiful butt and thighs making a most agreeable sight.

When we arrived at the packing sheds I allowed Dan to accompany me on my rounds, as it would, I thought, do him good to see how very constrained the life of a slave could be, chained there at the production line for his twelve hour shift before being herded back to the slave barn whilst the second shift took over (we ship produce to our markets twenty four hours a day, as we pride ourselves on the freshness and quality of it). Again, I don't want to give you the impression that I am a bad owner - all these slaves were well fed, received proper medical attention, and were only tawsed if they failed to keep up the work rate - they were, after all, slaves, and were lucky to have such good working conditions. I could see that Dan was a bit disturbed, though, and at one point did whisper "Sir, I just saw one of the slaves pissing...."

"Of course! They are not allowed to stop working during their shift as we cannot afford to have production disrupted. You'll notice that they stand on that grill that runs the length of the shed, to make sure hygiene is maintained - there's a drain underneath it." But then we turned the corner towards the sorting and grading lines, and I heard him gasp audibly as he saw the scene.

It's well known of course that females are better at delicate jobs needing fine discrimination, so here, where the fruit and vegetables went past at high speed and needed picking over to remove defects or over or under sized examples, we used only female slaves. Dan hadn't seen any female slaves before as out in the fields where strength is the prime requirement, the coffled niggas are of course male. And around the house and grounds my personal preference is for males, and so all those slaves are male too. My estate was however a commercial operation as I have explained, and whatever my personal preferences, the facts are unalterable: females are not only better at that type of work, but cost less to purchase in the first instance, and so they were used here. There are, as you can imagine, certain overheads in having a mixture of male and female slaves as, for example, we needed separate slave sheds to house them at night to prevent the females being impregnated. Fortunately, though, when you keep a large number of females in close proximity nature tends to synchronise their menstrual cycles so it was only for a few days in the month where the grading lines were very unpleasant as the slaves' fluids dripped away into the drains as they continued to work.

I wanted to discuss a number of issues with my overseers in charge of handling and packing, which all took longer than expected, and when we finally emerged there was more evidence of Steve's wrong attitude: instead of standing there with his head bowed, as you'd expect from a slave acting as a pony, he'd dared to sit down, and had even moved the trap a little so that there was a convenient stone to rest on as he could not easily sit on the ground with his wrists still tethered. He did at least get to his feet as soon as he saw me, but I was not pleased at his behaviour and was very curt in ordering him "Home!"

It's true of course that he had a heavier than expected load with both Dan and me to pull, and whilst this is not necessarily so much of a problem on the flat as a modern trap with ball bearings and so on can offer relatively little rolling resistance, it does get harder when going uphill as the pony is effectively raising the weight of the trap and occupants through the vertical rise. I keep the packing sheds well away from the mansion, and to take advantage of the views the mansion had been built all those years ago at the highest point on the estate; and so Steve was soon sweating with the exertion therefore. I thought I detected a lack of effort, though, as the trap began to slow - you must remember that Steve is a big, strong slave, at least as powerful as my normal pony Sven - and I suspected that his was another attempt by him to in some way show his disapproval of the whole process. You wouldn't expect me to allow such insubordination, especially when I was already very cross about his sitting, and silent criticism of using him as a pony anyway, and there was only one thing to be done: although I rarely use it, the trap has a pony whip neatly holstered at the side, and I reached for it.

Perhaps I should explain for the benefit of my readers who may not have the luxury of owning a personal pony that a pony whip is not at all like the normal stock whips or bull whips used for the severe punishment of slaves. No, it's rather more like a riding crop, but adapted to the needs of reaching the pony who is a few feet in front of the driver. There's a comfortable handle that fits snugly in the palm of the hand, but then a long shaft that tapers to give the right degree of flexibility, terminating in a thin leather strand about a foot long. It's whole purpose is to sting, rather than to really hurt, as a sharp stinging slash across the pony's shoulders or butt can "encourage" him by making him leap forward and remember that he is supposed to give of his all.

There was nothing for it - I upholstered it, swished it a couple of times to remind myself of the technique, and then slashed down at Steve's butt. It had exactly the required effect - he gave a quick yelp of surprise and alarm, realised what had happened and managed to check himself from complaining or blaspheming, and spurted forward.

Regrettably the sting of the whip on his butt only served to make Steve totally compliant for a few minutes, and I was forced to slash t him again as he began to slow under he remorseless effort of the long pull up to the mansion. And I needed to do it again, and again, and again, and as my anger mounted I hit harder and harder, until there were flecks of blood and thin red trails appearing on his shoulders and butt. You may think this was cruel of me, but you have to remember that all slaves have a small "store" of reserve energy locked up inside them, and a master has a right to use these if he needs. I'm not saying that Steve was deliberately holding back - far from it, and now, after my initial strokes, I think he really was tired and straining - but his whole attitude suggested he was doing the task unwillingly, and in those circumstances a slave never does his best and really does need to be "coaxed" physically.

When we finally arrived at the mansion Steve did seem to be totally exhausted, as he almost sagged to the ground as we halted outside the door. Dan leapt down to release the shackles holding Steve's wrists in place, but I stayed him. "No, Dan. Lead him around to the stables, and tell my stable overseer that I will be using Steve for the foreseeable future as a replacement for Sven, and that he's to be treated in exactly the same way that Sven is. And hurry - I need a relaxing shower after all the work I've done today, and in Steve's absence I will need you to cleanse me."

I saw Steve almost flare up in anger as he heard my words, and I knew I was doing the right thing in teaching him this new lesson in humility, and he looked even crosser as Dan said, very gently, "Come on, Steve - you heard the master. Follow me...." I knew that having young Dan ordering him around like that would add to his feelings of "injustice" - I put the word in inverted commas advisedly, as there can of course be no injustice in the way an owner deals with a slave, no more than your car, or stereo or anything can feel "injustice" at how you choose to use them.

It was not totally satisfactory in the shower - I missed Steve's strong, confident hands on me, and although it was good to have Dan curled up in my arms as we slept, the following morning when we went for a run together the experience was dismal - without Steve's firm guidance and encouragement I know I only ran at about three quarters of the pace I normally do and that therefore I wasn't getting the necessary exercise. I was regretting my decision to tell the stable overseer to use Steve as my pony, but once you've made a public decision like that you can hardly back down, can you? Indeed, it would be worse, far worse, for Steve if he was even to believe that he might have "won" in the battle of his will with mine.

We stopped off at the stables on the way back to the house as I was interested in seeing how Steve was behaving. Inside there was the normal delicious scent of hay mixed with the strong male odours of sweat and testosterone, all overlaid with the real horse scent from my hunters. I keep a mixed stable, with my thoroughbred hunters in stalls towards the end, with the others housing my ponies like Sven, the two slaves used to pull the mowers around the lawns, and the dray ponies used for general haulage around the place - a matched team of eight well-muscled niggas, chosen for their ability to lift and carry, rather than to run long distances.

Steve was in the stall usually occupied by Sven, and Dan and I peered in at him as he lay there sprawled on the straw. He didn't have the courtesy - or good sense - to get to his feet, and just lay there indolently, glaring at us. I could see Dan looking worried as he sensed my mounting anger, and he called out "Steve, it's the master, get to your feet...."

Clearly the lad's attempt to help Steve really riled him, as he got to his feet and lunged towards Dan, but fortunately they'd shackled him by one ankle to the far wall of his stall, and he'd forgotten this as he was brought up short and crashed to the ground again. It's one of those hangovers from the old days - there's no risk of Sven or any of the other slaves in the stables escaping really, but it's considered "good form" to treat pony slaves like that, more as if they were real animals, and on this occasion we'd seen how useful that was.

The commotion brought the stable overseer running up, and he had his slave prod drawn and was about to give Steve a severe shock with it. But I was thinking that Steve had perhaps suffered enough - or was I even just the tiniest bit guilty? "No, leave him!", I said, feeling rather magnanimous towards Steve who had, after all, almost attacked another slave.

"How's Sven?", I asked the stable overseer, and he told me "The veterinarian says that he's lucky to have had some skilled attention on the spot - the wound's a deep one, and without that near-tourniquet, and the sterile washing, it could have been very serious. As it is, though, he'll be out of action for at least a week."

"Well Steve can stand in, then. How was he last night?"

"Sir, I think he could best be described as 'wilful'. We almost had to overpower him to get him in to the stall and shackle him. And then he refused to eat the evening feed. And he hasn't touched the morning feed, either."

I looked down and there in the stainless steel feeding bowl on the floor of Steve's stall I could see the morsels of slave chow he'd left lying there. "He says he doesn't want slave chow, sir", the overseer added unhelpfully.

"That's two problems you have then, Steve", I said sternly, looking down at him as he lay there. "Firstly, you dare to refuse an order from an overseer. And secondly, you were speaking: you know as well as I do, from seeing Sven in action, that ponies are absolutely forbidden to speak."

"Sir, I wasn't hungry...", Steve began haltingly, recognising my anger.

"You are forbidden to speak! Did you not hear me? And if you did not eat last night, you will now. You will be working hard, and a slave needs proper food to return the work his master is due. Now, eat your morning feed."

To my utter astonishment, given that I'd tried to be forgiving of him, Steve was completely insolent, without actually saying anything! He reached out, picked up one small piece of the chow, slowly put it in his mouth, and crunched the hard biscuit five or six times before swallowing it. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out for another piece..... Well, I couldn't allow that, could I? Especially not with Dan and the stable overseer watching - my authority would have been completely undermined.

"Eat properly, Steve..."

"I am!"

Well, that was it! It was too much! I turned to the stable overseer, and snapped "This pony needs proper training Fetch a training bit, and a feeder, and as he's rather wild, bring four strong drays over to hold him."

Steve got to his feet, but at the extent of his shackling chain he could not leave the stall. He stalked around, glaring at me, although he had at least got the sense not to anger me further by saying anything else.

You know that I don't usually bother with all the real "pony" stuff on my slaves, but we do keep a training bit in the tack room, more as a threat, and a punishment, than for any serious purpose. The overseer soon came back with this, and then, as Steve struggled and fought, the four big nigga drays overcame him and held him kneeling in front of me. It was rather erotic, actually, seeing Steve's naked body thrashing around submerged in those of the four niggas, and I felt my dick straining at my pants as finally he was held there in front of me.

"I told you not to speak, Steve, so you've brought this on yourself", I said, showing him the training bit. Now, open your mouth."

He struggled, futilely, as the drays had him held firmly, but kept his mouth clamped shut. I put the toe of my running shoes forward so that they were touching the base of his sac as he knelt there, and then, when this warning was insufficient, brought it sharply upwards. Steve let out a great cry of pain, and that was all I needed - I thrust the bit between his teeth, and then it was all over. I expect most of you have seen ponies at work, and how some owners actually use a bit and reins to control them, so I don't have to describe in detail how the steel bar protrudes from the corners of their mouths and the metal straps go behind the head to be fastened there to hold it in place. The only difference between such a standard bit and the training one we were using was the presence of the tongue plate - the metal plate at right angles to the bar of the bit itself which presses the tongue down on to the floor of the mouth - well, not presses, actually: it's bottom surface is covered in sharp spikes, and the pony soon learns not to move his tongue as it can be extremely painful.

"Now, Steve, that will keep you quiet! Unfortunately it prevents you from feeding, but as you refused food last night and a moment ago in defiance of proper slave behaviour, and as I expect you to work hard today, you do need sustenance."

I turned to the dray slaves, and snapped "Hold his head firmly now... And make he doesn't move at all..."

The four muscular drays' powerful hands gripped at Steve's flesh to hold him as I personally forced Steve's mouth open further - not difficult, as it was already partially open with the bit - and inserted the bright blue plastic feeding spout of the feeder down his throat. His gag reflex was triggered, of course, but that was his problem, not mine, as the four niggas really did have him in their grip and they are extremely strong from their work. Once I was satisfied I'd passed his windpipe, I allowed the stable overseer to pour the slurry of his slave chow mixed with water into the reservoir, and then cranked the handle to force it into Steve. It reminded me rather of the way that geese are stuffed tom make foie gras, and, to tell you the truth, having Steve so totally powerless was very arousing! When I had made sure all the chow was in him, and then I pulled the tube out, leaving Steve wheezing and gasping, his eyes running with tears.

"If you refuse to eat, Steve, in future the stable overseer will feed you like that."

I turned then, and walked off, but stopped for a moment to give the overseer more orders about Steve's treatment.

Dan showered me, but he was unusually silent, a silence that lasted over breakfast: whilst breakfast us usually fairly quiet as I like to read the Wall Street Journal, there's usually a little conversation as Steve and Dan passed things, made sure my coffee cup was always full, and so on, but this morning there was this icy silence. Finally, Dan spoke. "Sir, please, sir.... Don't be so hard on Steve, sir...."

"I am not being 'hard', as you put it. Steve was being wilful and disobedient, and that is not allowed."

"But sir, you had him chained in that stall overnight..."

"..because he defied me yesterday with his dumb insolence. And stop this, Dan - I do not need to justify myself to you! Steve is a slave, he displeased me, and he's now suffering the consequences."

"...but feeding him like that, making him run naked yesterday...."

"He needs his strength, and strength comes from food. If he refuses to eat, it's tantamount to saying that he's not going to give of his best for me. And why shouldn't he run naked? Sven does. All my ponies here do. And, anyway, he's not naked - like all the slaves you've seen in the fields and the packing sheds, he's got a collar on - that's all a slave needs. " I saw Dan fingering the heavy chain around his neck, and continued "Yes, Dan - if I chose, I could have you in only that collar - that's all a slave needs. Modesty and a concern for not displaying the body is something that's only applicable to men, not to slaves. If I choose to look at a slave's body, or to display it for others, that's my choice.."

"But sir..."

"One more word, Dan, and I think you might join Steve in the pony barn as it might teach you a little more about the way a proper slave should behave - you've been a bit of a pampered toy so far..."

I suppose I could have told Dan of my real concern - if Steve's behaviour was not checked and rectified, I'd have no alternative but to sell him as I could not risk having an openly defiant slave around the place as it sets such a bad example for all the others. And any prospective purchasers, looking at his owner's log book, would see that he'd been enslaved for violence, had come from the mines, and would almost certainly not believe he could be a good slave! Quite apart from the fact that I'd get only a pittance for him, I feared that Steve's future would be straight back down the mines, and I had this sneaking regard for him which meant that I thought he did not deserve that.

Dan went silent, but it was the same kind of sullen silence Steve had been using the day before. I began to think I was losing my touch at slave management, and I sincerely hoped that I wouldn't need to carry out my threat on young Dan. Wisely, though, he performed well as I dressed for business, and I allowed him to wear slave shorts and a T, telling him that I had business in the local town and that he could accompany me.

"Sir, can't I stay here and work...?"

"NO, Dan. It's two miles into town, and I'll enjoy your company."

"Please, sir, I might see some of my old buddies...."

"So?"

"Please sir, they'll see I'm a slave...."

"Yes? Well, you are a slave. So they'll be correct, won't they?"

"But sir...."

"No 'buts', Dan! You are a slave, and there's nothing to be ashamed of providing you're carrying out my orders and working as well as you possibly can for me.

And they're no longer your 'buddies', anyway - a slave has no family and no friends, as he should be totally focussed on the needs of his master." I said his in a tone that allowed no further argument, and we went downstairs and out of the front entrance.

The stable overseer had carried out my orders to perfection! Steve positively glistened in the morning sun from the sheen of slave oil all over his pelt, and I went over and ran my hand lightly over his chest, feeling how smooth he had been shaved. I called Dan over and told him to feel Steve, too, knowing that Steve would particularly hate this. Dan hesitated, and I snapped "Feel his genitals, too - doesn't he look different now all his pubes have been shaved off as well?"

"Sir, yes, sir...", Dan said in a small voice.

I now cupped Steve's denuded balls in my palm, running my hands lightly over the root of his dick now also completely smooth, and said to the stable overseer who had brought Steve around from the stables "There is one thing - Steve here is exceptionally well hung, and I don't want to cause him unnecessary suffering as he runs today - I think he needs cinching until he gets used to it, as I usually let him wear slave shorts for exercise. I have a few calls to make - get him done, and bring him back as soon as possible." Turning to Dan I said "Go with them, and watch as they cinch Steve.... It's as well to know how it's done... In case I decide to have you done too."

My calls to New York were particularly frustrating, and I was glad to get outside again to find Steve and Dan waiting for me. Steve's dick was now jutting out almost at right angles from his body as the tight-fitting cinch ring around the base of his dick and balls thrust him forwards and out. It's not just the mechanical action of the ring holding the dick out, of course - it also restricts the flow of blood a little, so once an erection has started, it's extremely difficult, if not impossible, to get it to go down again. I've head that some men use "cock rings" to give them this sustaining effect (I've never found the need myself), but the same principle applies - the only difference being that because the dick and balls have to be squeezed through a cock ring, it can never be as tight and constricting as a cinch ring which basically consists of two halves that can be pushed together around the root of the dick and balls as they are pulled away from the body, and then locked together.

Initially Steve seemed to be rather defiant as we sped along on the estate road, but when I got to the junction with the drive leading up to the county road, and I told him to turn and head for town, he seemed to sag. I knew what was going on in his brain, and sensed the exquisite embarrassment and shame he was starting to feel. Pony traps are a not uncommon occurrence in our sleepy little town of course - being in the middle of an agricultural belt several of he local farmers used them for short journeys, but the ponies were usually "farm stock" - niggas taken from the fields and pressed into service between the shafts. And most farmers allowed them to wear slave shorts, or, as a minimum if they needed to keep the butts bare for exercising the whip, a G-string to contain the slaves' genitals. Only I had enough money to be able to have a "whitey" like Sven, as a pony, and as I was usually chauffeured into the town, Sven had never been seen there in his standard nakedness. There's no prohibition on parading your slaves nude, of course, but I knew, and Steve knew, that the sight of a naked whitey would cause enormous interest, especially as many of the town folk would at once recognise Steve as my personal trainer as he usually was allowed to accompany me when I went shopping and so on, to carry my purchases and my wallet.

As this realisation dawned on him, Steve started to shake his head and slow down, and I snapped "Steve, head for town!", and slashed at his butt with the whip to emphasise the point.

It was just as I anticipated - when I came out of the barber, having had my usual short but stylish cut, a small group of interested onlookers had clustered around Steve. I was annoyed, though, that he had not behaved properly and remained outside the barber shop with his head decently bowed - he'd taken it upon himself to move a few feet so that he was in the shade! In his hearing I said to Dan "Did you move Steve?"

I saw Dan look at Steve, lick his lips nervously, and almost whisper "Yes, master.... I thought it would be better for him to be cool for when you came out..."

I looked at Dan sternly. "I will punish you tonight for lying to me. I saw you look at Steve then... He moved himself, didn't he? You knew that what he did was wrong and would annoy me, and you are trying to cover his disobedience by lying to me! "

"Sir, no...."

"Dan! How dare you lie to your master!"

The boy crumbled "I'm sorry, sir..."

"So he did move himself?"

"I suppose so, sir...."

"So that's two of you to be punished tonight, then."

To his credit, Dan hung his head in shame, and I saw Steve look pretty upset. I moved close to him so that only he could hear, and hissed See, Steve - when you're wilful and disobedient, it's not only yourself who suffers. Now you've got Dan into trouble as well."

He shook his head and made a number of inarticulate gurgling noises, presumably to plead with me. The drool that was dripping from the corners of his mouth where the bit cut harshly into them turned red - I assumed his tongue had been lashing against the spikes of the training bit as he endeavoured to speak to me.

Even though it was unnecessary, I slashed at Steve with the hip - albeit lightly - several times as we drove on a circuit of the four principal streets before heading home. I wanted Steve to feel that everyone in the town had seen him naked and polished, with his dick jutting out, and for him to know that they would see that he was wilful and disobedient as I needed to use the whip so much.

As we bowled along back to the house, I pondered how on earth I would punish both Steve and Dan, but I'm very clever and creative as I may have mentioned, and by the time we were back at the stables I had a plan.

I ordered Steve to be laid on the punishment "horse", but that only his wrists were to be manacled to the front legs as I wanted a lot of movement to be possible. He watched me with a mixture of anger and contempt as I selected a punishment cane - I didn't want to break the skin so it should not be too thin, but I did want it to really hurt, not just form the initial stinging stroke, but from the underlying dull, insistent pain that lasts and lasts. Finally I had one that seemed satisfactory as I swished it backwards and forwards, and I went and stood by Steve's head.

"You know you deserve to be punished, don't you, Steve? You moved, without authority. But worse than that, you colluded in trying to make Dan lie to me! I've never had to use a punishment cane on you before, Steve, and I don't know what's got in to you recently - you used to be such an obedient slave, but since Dan arrived.... I thought you were grateful to me for rescuing you from the mines, and wanted to work enthusiastically to make my life easy... But now.... It saddens me, Steve, to have to do this."

Steve still looked defiant, and I went on "You've seen me use a punishment cane on other slaves, so you know this is really going to hurt you. But more than the physical pain involved, I hope you feel the shame of being such a bad slave that I have been forced to go to these lengths to discipline you. I won't be able to hear you scream physically because of the bit, but I know it will be hurting you...."

I turned to Dan, handed him the cane, and said "Six strokes, two on each buttock, and one on each thigh."

"Sir, please, no... Don't make me hit Steve..."

"You were keen enough to collude with him this morning in lying to me. Now you must bear the consequences of that, and share with me in punishing him."

"Sir, please, no..."

"So you want to make it worse for Steve?"

"Sir?"

"If you cane him, I will expect you to do it hard. But you lack the power, and experience, that I have.... Six strokes from me will hurt Steve far more than six from you...." As I said this, I handed him the cane, and he saw the logic in what I was saying as he positioned himself by Steve's butt. I smiled inwardly - the physical pain for Steve would be a lot less, as I'd said - but Steve would be totally humiliated by having a twenty year old slave caning him, and I thought that the pain of that would linger long after the physical sensations had faded.

I had to help Dan of course, standing behind him and wrapping my arms around him to guide the cane down onto Steve's butt. He's got such pronounced musculature and it swells so appreciably that you need to treat each buttock separately to get a good long stroke across it - if I'd treated his butt a a whole, only the area immediately around his crack would have received the stroke. Dan seemed to hate it, and his body was trembling with emotion as the six strokes fell, and with each Steve's body jerked in pain, helpless on the horse. But as you are all probably aware, a stroke across the thigh, especially when it's stretched taught on the horse, is immeasurably more painful and not only did his body jerk and spasm uncontrollably, but his cries were audible even with his training bit in.

"That was the first part of your punishment, Dan", I told him. "Now, strip!"

He could see all the other ponies and the stable overseer watching him, and began to blush. I knew that although he'd got used to being naked with Steve and me, this was probably the first time as a slave that he'd had to do it in front of other men too.

He stood there before me, one hand hovering on front of his dick, as if in some way this might make his embarrassment less. "And how should I punish you, Dan?"

"With the cane, like Steve, sir?"

"Yes. I am going to give you two strokes, one on each buttock. But the 'horse' is already occupied.... So please go and stand between Steve's legs...."

I watched, as did all the others, as his lithe young body took the few paces over to Steve, and then he stood there, uncertainly.

"Good, Dan. Now, you need to be held on the horse... But Steve is using the shackles. So please make yourself erect... And then insert your dick into Steve's ass... That should hold you secure."

"Sir, please, no...."

I took two steps towards him, raised the cane, and brought it crashing down on Steve's butt. Steve jerked with the pain and there was a muffled scream again from him - I knew that this stroke, administered with all my power, would really have hurt him, and that Dan could see that.

"If I continue to see Steve's butt exposed, I will continue to strike it, Dan! Now, do as you ere told, or be prepared to see Steve continuing to get hurt..."

I raised the cane again, and Dan called anxiously "Sir, no, sir, please, stop...."

As I watched, he stroked frantically at his dick, causing the drays to start to snigger and cheer, and then as his 'skin peeled back and his moist head appeared, he turned and faced Steve's ass, looking faintly helpless.

"Use your hands to spread his cheeks apart, then, when you've seen his hole, use one of them to hold him apart and the other one to position your dick... And then push in!"

He hesitated, and I said "Get to it, boy... My arm is tired of holding this cane up...."

He did as I'd ordered, and stood there. "Push in! I want you buried to the hilt! I want Steve to fell your pubic hair on his bare butt. Now he's lost his own, he'd probably appreciate knowing what it feels like again...." The drays all laughed again as I said this, and I could see the boy blush even deeper, and Steve looked really uncomfortable, too.

Dan's dick is shorter and thinner than mine, so it ought to have been really easy for Steve to accommodate it as he was used to taking me. But whether it was the pain from his stripes, or the tenseness caused by the shame he was experiencing, it seemed to be very hard for Dan to get in, and there was a lot of awkward shuffling and straining before I saw Dan's young body finally pressed close to Steve.

"Bend forward and put your arms under Steve, and hold tight!", I told him, and as he did, resting his head just below Steve's shoulder blades, I struck.

I didn't strike him hard, actually, as I wanted to enjoy his ass that night and I know from experience that a slave with a deep red cane weal across his butt just doesn't perform with enthusiasm! So the two strokes I gave Dan were more of a "taster" than a serious punishment. Nevertheless, as is so often the case, the act of caning the butt had caused him to ejaculate - when he pulled out of Steve's ass, there was a stalactite of his cum drooling down from his dick tip! He was blushing even more furiously now, his whole torso seeming to be going bright red, especially as the drays started to call out things like "A proper fucker!", and "Bullseye on his ass, boy", until the stable overseer went over to them and told them to be silent.

"So you've lost your virginity, too!", I commented. "That is the first time you've ejaculated inside a guy's ass?"

"Yes, sir", he stammered.

"Well now you're so well acquainted wit Steve, I can see no reason why you shouldn't fuck him again - when I don't feel like it, it might amuse me to see you really ride him...."

I could see Steve wriggling with irritation, and to complete his humiliation I said to Dan, but loudly so that everyone else could hear "Take your T and wipe Steve's ass for him - I can see your cum starting to ooze out of him and slide down the inside of his thighs. As I'm going to have his hands cuffed tonight to stop him playing with his dick, I don't want him to have to spend all night with your slime sticking to him." It must have been demeaning for Dan to have to wipe a man's ass, and equally so for Steve, to have a young guy doing it to him.

I left the barn, telling the stable overseer to make sure Steve was chained in his stall, and that his hands were to be fastened behind him so that there was no possibility of him jerking off. Then I strode off, commanding Dan to follow me. He went to pick up his clothes, but I shouted at him to leave them and hurry as I did not want to be kept waiting. He looked so acutely embarrassed at his nakedness as he followed me, but I am sure he remembered what I'd said about a slave needing nothing else other than a collar, and I thought that he must be worried in case I should decide to keep him like that from now on.

All in all it had been a most successful day - Steve had begun to learn how he was under my total control in ways he had not even previously guessed. And Dan had started to see that as a slave he could be made to do the things - like hitting Steve, and fucking him publicly - that caused him the most acute embarrassment.

End Of Part Four