Passing

PASSING

A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk@yahoo.com)

Part Twenty The wedding. Meeting an old friend. I buy another slave.

The day of Sam's wedding was almost upon us and Cyrus and Anastasia had accepted my invitation to use my apartment during their visit as they could have far more privacy there than at a hotel - Cyrus's movements are of course always interesting to the financial press. It was also considered easier for Ian to be with them there as he was invited to the wedding and was accompanying them too..

I knew they were flying on a commercial airline as Cyrus's own plane was, he considered, too cramped for crossing the Atlantic and he preferred the greater space in first class. Thinking about it I realised that even in the big BMW there would not be room for Cyrus and Anastasia, Ian, me, and Greg to drive it and deal with all their luggage. And in any case getting in to London from the airport in the morning is always a nightmare. So I called in a favour from a government minister who owed me one, and he agreed that his official limousine could meet them at the airport and then use the dedicated priority lanes for government traffic into London.

It was therefore easy for Greg to drive me to the airport in the BMW, we met them and Greg was told to take care of their luggage - I noticed Anastasia looking at his body in his tight shorts and top as he strained to carry it all - and then drive it to the flat. Ian was, as I had last seen him, still "sex on legs". Cyrus and Anastasia, Ian and I then had a very agreeable journey in, ignoring the angry glares of the morning commuters as we whisked past them in the government car.

We had a very agreeable morning, with Cyrus and me discussing our various projects. He was keenly interested in what I was doing, and, as I had, confessed to being utterly bored by the endless rounds of meetings and presentations to which he was now subject rather than "doing the real exciting work". I introduced Jason - properly attired in his slave costume of course - and he and Ian seemed to strike up a friendship almost immediately. I suspected that Ian, too, missed "real work" and that his role as Anastasia's "companion" was not proving all he had expected and it was no longer all that much fun. Indeed, when Jason was showing him some documents and put his arm on Ian's shoulders to pull him a little closer to see them better, Ian flinched. I smiled as I saw this, and wondered if his back was still the mess of scratches from Anastasia's nails that the rest of us had seen in New York.

Dave had sent over Milo to prepare lunch as eating "at home" was so much more of a treat for Cyrus than endlessly eating out at expensive restaurants with his clients.

That evening Cyrus wanted to understand more of my plans and he and I, and Jason, sat down to go through them. Ian was eager to be involved in the conversation, which caused Anastasia to become peevish as she wanted to go out "to see the sights". When there was no "buy in" from Ian she declared she would go by herself, but I decided that this was extremely unwise as she was wearing what was obviously a small fortune in rings and necklaces - no, a large fortune might be a more accurate description.

The solution was obvious and I called Greg in and told him he was to escort Mrs Williams and gave him a sheaf of money ordering him to take taxis - parking the BMW would simply be too difficult. Cyrus was worried, but I pointed out that a big, tough, muscular slave like Greg, who also happened to be trained as a fighter in his former life, would be more than sufficient to keep Anastasia safe and that London was a safe city anyway and it was only Anastasia's jewellery that was a concern. No one ever molested women in the streets now as the penalty - enslavement - was so severe and it was only that someone seeing the jewellery might decide the risk was worth it that was the issue, and Greg solved that.

The following morning we were all to go to Chorley in the BMW with Greg driving and Ian making his own way on the train as he wanted to stop somewhere on the way or something to see an old friend from university. When Anastasia appeared though she was wearing dark glasses which she did not want to take off even though Cyrus was joking that the sun in London was not that strong! And I noticed that there was something different about Greg - he was sort of smug in a mild sort of way.

As we were leaving Jason was around and carried some of the smaller bags down to the garage, then slapped Greg on the back to wish him a good journey and to have a great time at the wedding. "I expect there'll be a lot of slaves there at a big society bash - and you might get lucky with some of the ladies' maids" he joked. I noticed though that Greg had flinched as Jason touched him.

Whilst Cyrus and Anastasia were making final preparations to leave I cornered Greg. "So what happened last night?"

"Nothing, sir."

"You know I dislike lies, Greg. And you know that I now have access to an amazing range of punishment options at the new Dave's Slaves. So I would advise you to be frank and honest, as a slave should be, and tell me why your back appears to be hurting. No, better than that, I have not inspected you this morning. Unclothe."

"Sir, Mr and Mrs Williams...."

"I am sure both of them, should they appear, have seen a naked man before. And, indeed, I would quite like to show you off to them anyway so they can appreciate what their money can buy here."

"Please, sir..."

"Do it! Now! Get naked."

Slowly and reluctantly Greg pulled his T up and off, and I saw at once the marks of finger nails raking down his back. And as he dropped his shorts they seemed to have started on his bum. "So?", I demanded.

"It wasn't me, sir...."

"Evidently. Even you could not reach around and do that."

"Mrs Williams, sir. She's like a tiger. When we got back, as I was showing her to her room she dragged me in, sir. And then she started..."

"And you went along with it."

"Sir, she's a free woman. If she gives me an order...."

"When I last saw her in action in New York poor young Ian had a great many more of those marks."

Greg grinned a kind of wolfish grin. "That's the problem with those young guys, sir. They don't know how to handle a woman."

"And you do?"

"Well, sir, before I was enslaved most people reckoned I knew what I was doing."

"And what did you do?"

"Well, sir, a woman needs taming. Especially one that thinks she can treat a man as a toy. Not only did she want to make her mark on me, but she wanted me to lie there so she could ride me like my cock was some sort of dildo, entirely for her amusement and not caring about my enjoyment at all. So I showed her what a real man does..."

Seeing me looking interested he went on "I needed to slap her - not really hard of course, just enough to show her who was really in charge. Then I used my cock like a man should - I took her doggy fashion, as that's the way I like it. You can control the bitch better that way, sir. She was screaming and shouting angrily at me at first, but once I got going that all changed to all those noises bitches make when a man is giving them what they need. I reckon she now knows the difference between a real man like me, very experienced, and a good big cock, and those boys like that Ian that don't take charge and let themselves be used."

"She'll complain, tell Cyrus, who will talk to me and I will have to order you to be punished you know...."

He grinned wolfishly. "I don't think so, sir. Not complain! She wants more. I'm supposed to keep her satisfied during all this wedding stuff, she says. And if Cyrus..." He saw my look of anger as he knows I expect slaves to be respectful "...Mr Williams does come and talk to you I reckon it will be to try to buy me for her, sir."

Suddenly I had to think. As you know, I've had Greg for a long time, and have had a lot of real sexual gratification. That muscular body, especially his big strong butt, is a whole lot of fun to play with and fuck. And it's a real turn on when you have a big strong man totally in your power as you own him. When you know that he could be violent and hurt you, but that he has to lie there and take whatever you want to give. But on the other hand Greg is getting old, and perhaps it was time to move on - seeing the range of slaves being sold by the army was really interesting. I could get a big tough marine as a direct replacement for Greg, or perhaps I could treat myself to a couple of the younger soldiers like the ones we used as guards as I found their tight little bums really exciting when I watched them. And having two to play with - well, there'd be a lot more possibilities.... But then I felt really sad, as Greg wasn't just a sex toy as I considered him more as a friend - well, as much as one can be friends with a slave, of course.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens, then, Greg" I told him, and noticed that he had expected me to say more. Did he really want to be owned by Anastasia? Or did he hope that I wouldn't sell him and things would continue as at present? If he thought about it he must surely recognise that I would sell him at some time as otherwise I'd end up fucking a sixty or seventy year old! Still, I wasn't going to ask him or engage in debate - it's not good for owners to do that with slaves as it weakens their control. And fortunately I was saved by Cyrus and Anastasia who appeared then: both of they stared appreciatively at Greg, I noticed. I told him to dress, and we were ready to set off.

There's not all that much I can tell you about the wedding that is germane to the story, except that it evidently cost a small fortune! Not only was the castle decorated over all, but there were huge marquees for the dinner and dancing, a field kitchen to cook the gourmet banquet, a well known pop group (well, well known to those who know about such things, I suppose) for the music, and so on. I wondered how all this was being paid for as the Chorleys were not all that wealthy in spite of their title, and Sam certainly had not yet accumulated much even working in the City. But then I noticed the reporters and photographers everywhere from one of those "Society" magazines, and it became clear. I don't like to miss out on opportunities so I found Dave and we were photographed together and gave a long interview about the "new approach to selling slaves", and in turn Cyrus and I, with Anastasia in the background wearing millions of dollars of jewellery, talked about how there was still money to be made in the City and that our deal in New York was not the last one - that meant we surely would get a mention, as even the readers of those magazines (or their husbands!) were interested in money.

Ian had turned up and the photographers were swarming around him because of his "celebrity" status - sure, he did look really sexy in his habitual low-slung tight trousers emphasising his flat belly and big cock, but remember up until very recently he had just been one of my junior employees. Such is the superficiality of so much of our society, I suppose. They also took masses of pictures of Anastasia - more than of the countess, mother of the bride, as she was wearing some designer name or other as well as all that jewellery, and somehow she managed to be shown against the background of Greg in his tight top and slave shorts and the reporters seemed really excited when she told them that as an American she was amazed and delighted by how attentive big tough slaves like Greg could be to a lady`s needs! That was certainly going to make headlines in the next issue, I felt.

Dave did a very credible job with his speech, and got a huge round of applause probably because he almost broke down when he spoke about "his Sammy", and even I had to blink away tears. I was much amused to speculate about what they would think if they knew that Dave had slept with Sam more than his new bride had!

My only surprise was when I looked at the seating plan and found that a "Mr E Thornburn" was seated between Cyrus and me at our table and wondered who he was and why he was there. When we sat down though I saw a trim young man approaching with a very fashionable short, neatly clipped beard - I obviously did not see a lot of those as slaves do not have them, and the City is still rather conservative and most workers there are clean shaven.

"Hullo, sir" he said and I then recognised him - it was Ted.

"What the fuck are you doing here", I said as I shook his hand warmly as he had been such a valuable member of the team in New York. "Sam never said he had invited you when we were talking about Cyrus and Ian being here. And aren't you not really into all of this - the wealth, the waste...? Shouldn't you be in some miserable tent somewhere trying to save the planet, or the whales, or the tigers, or refugees, or whatever it is you went off to do?"

He grinned. "Sam didn't exactly invite me. I keep an eye on the team you know, as that time in New York was such fun - my systems alert me to news and happenings about all of you, and Sam's wedding has been trailed in that magazine for weeks. So I decided to come, and wanted to be with you and Ian and Cyrus, so I fixed it."

Seeing me looking puzzled he added "Well the caterers and wedding planners do all this stuff on computers, you know, sir. And there were lots of e-mails flying around with guest lists, seating plans, and stuff like that. And me and my computers do have some expertise in that area, as you know. So here I am."

Well as wedding go, this one wasn`t too bad after that. There was a stream of people who wanted to talk to Cyrus - and to me, too, as I still had my big City reputation. And when we tired of that we sat with Ian and Ted and reminisced about what fun "the big one" had been. And at some point during the evening Cyrus and I had a private conversation.

"It's made me realise how I'm wasting my life", he told me. "I sit there in my office doing all these reviews and sorting out squabbles in my management team. But I actually enjoy doing deals, making things happen! I envy you, you had the sense to get out, and Ian tells me you've got a man researching deals for you..."

"A slave, actually. He was hot stuff in the City, but passing' as a free man until I detected him, and now he works - or should I say slaves' - for me. He does all the grunt work, and I do the negotiation. Not big deals - not usually more than 100 million or so. But fun."

"I do envy you Brits. Being able to order a slave to do the work, and not have all the serious stuff about salaries and bonuses and other incentives... I guess the cane is all the incentive you need! And being able to have a totally obedient chauffeur and servant like Greg. Always available, no time of, no vacations,. I wish the US government would see sense and repeal the Emancipation act!"

"You know, Cyrus, I think there's a piece of advice I should give you. If there's something you want, make it happen! Like me you're probably rich enough to not ever be able to spend all the money you already have. So why work at something you don't any longer really enjoy when there are things you could do that still excite you? And as for slaves - well here in the UK any one can own them - you can't take them out of the country but if you moved to London..."

"No, the legislation passed a couple of years ago makes it an offence for a US citizen to engage in the dealings or ownership of slaves of any kind anywhere in the world. And the penalties are severe."

"You mean they enslave you if you own a slave here in London?"

Cyrus laughed. "No. But severe penalties in the USA really are that - you don't want to be in a federal prison with all those thugs and rapists..."

"You know, Cyrus, I think you're making excuses. You're bright enough to know there are workarounds to those kind of restrictions! You could rent slaves from Dave's Slaves. Or set up a company that rents or owns slaves. Or if all that's too close a call, you could become a British citizen - I know the rules and requirements for that are very, very hard to do because of all the problem we had with immigrants some yeas ago, but for the rich it's simple: hire yourself a good lawyer and you could become a Brit. Or we could get Ted to simply make you one - he's good at that sort of stuff and I expect even our government now has that computerised!"

We both laughed but Cyrus went on "It's a good idea. But Anastasia would never agree. We have to live in Manhattan as she likes being a society lady', a hostess'. She'd never agree to move to London."

"Have you seen her today? We aren't used to the mega-rich actually displaying their wealth here - all those jewels, and that gown. If she held a few parties she'd soon be a top London hostess. She'd need to find some charity she was interested in and use that as a way of publicising her activities - so she couldn't just have a great ball, but she could have a great ball in aid of... well in aid of sick dogs, or orphans, or injured slaves, or something like that. And the Chorleys have a name' but not a lot of money - I reckon Lady Chorley would enjoy being a co-hostess' of all that sort of stuff. So Anastasia could soon easily be queening it over the monied set and the `society' set if she wanted to and if you're happy to finance it all. And as we've agreed you've got more money than you know what to do with, so it's not a cost issue. And you know most of the minor royals get to all those kind of things, and all want support for their charities - surely all Americans want to be in with the royal set, get to sit in the royal box at Ascot, all that kind of thing? They all want to be entertained in great style and luxury - so you'd need a proper London presence - like my apartment - and a county place like this. But that's only money, too."

Cyrus was laughing. "You're very persuasive! But I still couldn't be involved with slaves..."

"Unless we get you British citizenship. And then you could be knighted for services to the City and for charitable good works after a decent interval of a year or so, and it would be Sir Cyrus Williams and lady Williams.... Everyone wants a title, I'm told, especially Americans who don't have the system at all."

"Hmmm... Lady Anastasia..."

"No, Cyrus! If you're going to be a Brit you need to get it right. You'd be Sir Cyrus Williams, but your wife is Lady Williams. She's only be Lady Anastasia if she was the daughter of an earl. So the blushing bride today was Lady Victoria Greyson, as she is the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Chorley. And now she's Lady Victoria-whatever-Sam's surname is. Mr Sam and Lady Victoria whatever..."

Cyrus was almost beside himself with laughter now. "It all sounds so much fun. But I don't think..."

I gave him a knowing look. "You know, Cyrus, when we were in New York Anastasia seemed to have to put a lot of effort in to getting Ian to... to, shall we say, escort' her around. She'd find it a lot easier in London - several fashionable ladies now go around followed by their personal slaves. And the better looking and hence the more expensive the slave, the more fashionable' she is and the more she is respected! We could get Dave to find a very suitable escort' as money is no object, and when she tires, it can be changed. It can be changed with the season, too - a blond for spring, a big nigga for the winter... I could quite see her starting a new trend... Or perhaps she'd like a team of escorts', several handsome young slaves following her around, satisfying her every whim...."

"Or perhaps just one, big, strong, powerful looking one...." Cyrus added, and I understood he knew all about Greg and was really happy that Anastasia was happy.

When we were back in London Cyrus had evidently been thinking and asked me more about my projects, so I invited him to come out to my new office in Leyton - I'd acquired it with all the other real estate on the Dave's Slaves site and decided I liked the idea of having an "office" rather than having Jason work from "home" for me. And I invited Ian and Ted, too, and we had a most interesting meeting. The two young men were really excited about having "real work" to do and seemed to be wanting to be back in the City, and they seemed to take to Jason too even though he was a slave - he was not, after all, all that different to them, except that I owned him.

At some point I asked Ted about all the big ideas he had - why he left in the first place. He looked a bit sheepish. "Well, you know, sir, I couldn't make all that much of a difference. I could do some stuff to make some things a bit easier with my computer stuff, but as fast as I fixed one thing, they wanted me to do something else for them, and they weren't grateful or anything, they seemed to think I ought' to do it. And it was always other people making the plans, doing the exciting stuff, as I was a sort of technician' not a real part of the team, and..."

"That's the problem with idealists, I suppose. At least when you're in my team we're all together, all focused on the same thing, all working to a common goal... I'd like every day to be like it was in New York, but on a smaller scale so it's not quite so successful."

"I'd like to join you sir, but I need a week to fix a few things - some bits of my record I need to make sure are wiped, some of the stuff I was doing was not exactly legal and I don't want to be an embarrassment to you, sir..."

Ian joined in then and said he wanted a "real" job again, and perhaps I would consider taking him on into my team, as it looked as if I was forming one. And as I am a man of action, negotiated "fair" salaries there and then (well fair for me, of course. Ian and Ted had not yet had all that much experience in negotiating).

As we were there Cyrus then said he'd like to take a proper look at a slave dealer "behind the scenes", so we went over and Dave really enjoyed showing him around. And when he had to break off as there was a slave who needed punishment and our professional whipmasters were occupied and the slave's owner was in a hurry, Cyrus went to watch Dave in action too. I could see he was transfixed!

Afterwards he was deep in conversation with Dave, then the three of us went to the pub for lunch, which delighted Cyrus at the informality of it all as no-one there knew who he was. And it seemed to me that he enjoyed being in there with all those "blue collar" men, as he called them. I was going to phone for the car to take him back to Westminster, but he said he's like too spend some more time with Dave, and as I had a meeting to go to in the City, I left them to it.

That night Dave and I were in bed and after we'd played with each other a bit and were both lying there laughing and gasping for breath and letting our cocks recover, he said to me "That Cyrus is quite an interesting bloke. All that money, and yet he likes simple things..."

"You mean like the pub lunch?"

"Yes. But more than that: this afternoon he wanted to try beating a slave! When I told him it was kind of illegal as he didn't own it he said he'd buy it - and this was one of the top of the range great looking hunks, and he didn't even ask the price. But then he realised he couldn't own it, but said he'd work for me for the afternoon. What a laugh! I had to agree to pay him a fiver."

"Then he took the leather strap - he said he was most interested in that - and we had the stud tied down to a flogging horse, and he really laid in to its bum. I was getting worried actually, as he was putting in so much effort that he was sweating, and you never really know with very old blokes- they can have heart attacks, stuff like that. And when I did persuade him to stop he stood there for quite a time running his hands over the slave's bum and saying what a great feeling it was to think that he'd caused all that heat. And he slapped it with his hands once or twice when the slave didn't stop crying and sobbing as he'd ordered it to."

I wanted to learn more, but at that moment the bedroom door opened and a slave - a very young slave - came in looking really nervous. Dave barked at it "Get in here and clean up our cocks and bellies - we're starting to stick to each other as the cum dries!"

The slave nervously approached until Dave lost patience and reached out and grabbed it and threw it down between us.

"What the fuck? Who's this?" I demanded.

"This is Timmy - the new one, that is. I'm sure I told you I call all my sex slaves that as it saves me having to remember a new name. And it's good for them, too, as It makes them easier to adjust to their new lives..."

"Dave, I've told you I don't like you having these kids..."

"And I've told you that I wouldn't touch a kid. Timmy here is old enough to be enslaved, so that means he's old enough to have sex. And even if he weren't, he's a slave. And there's no problem in law with having sex with slaves as we both know. In fact you're more at risk than me - that Darren of yours...."

"He's old enough, it's legal."

"Yes, but I don't think other blokes really would like the idea of you fucking a young lad like that if he was a free man. If it's a slave, it's different, doesn't count. There's no shame. It's normal."

"Actually I don't fuck Darren...."

Dave smiled "So you say. But he's got a nice body, and if you have us work on him here he'll be even more desirable. A few weeks of harsh exercise...."

"What happened to Tim?"

"Oh, I got bored with him. You do, you know. He's up for sale, in the slave pens. And I'll get a really good price for him. He's really matured and the market's strong now for handsome, strong young eighteen year olds... You were probably so used to seeing him around that you didn't realise how much he's come on recently - young men do at that age, you know. So then there was Timmy here fresh on the market, and I decided on a change. Out with the old, in with the new, as they say."

Well I wasn't all that sure about it, but the young slave seemed happy enough once he'd licked our bellies and cocks, and the kind of knowing grin he gave Dave made me think that he was in fact more experienced than Dave had tried to make out.

The next morning I went down in to the selling area to take a look at Tim and the price we were asking - our policy was to display slaves for two weeks and then if they failed to sell we put them in to the next auction. So I knew Tim would be in there somewhere, but we did have about a hundred slaves for sale now. I was careful not to be seen as I stood in the darker passages between the pens (whereas the pens themselves are brilliantly lit to display the stock to its best advantage) and finally I saw Tim. He looked rather pathetic, I suppose - sitting there with his back to the wall of the individual pen he was in, his knees drawn up to his chin and his hands clasped around his knees. It was almost as if he was trying to comfort himself, or hide himself in some way although that wasn't succeeding as his cock and balls were hanging down between his thighs. As he wasn't looking out I could go up to the bars and read the sale label.

It said he was eighteen, and "properly bred" and of a "good disposition" as he had not been enslaved for theft or violent crime. Potential buyers could see his height, weight, chest, inside leg, and cock measurements. He was warranted for three months - our standard - against any existing disease or medical problem. And under "experience" it noted he was properly trained for household duties and sexual activities. He positively was not a virgin it stated.

On the "price" section it listed the extras he came with: a buyer could have him branded, fitted with a collar, have his nipples or cock pierced and fitted with appropriate rings at no additional charge, although the purchase price of the collar and rings was extra as owners would wish to select from the extensive range of styles and sizes available. Finally additional skinning to give him the standard slave "high and tight" could also be performed at the same inclusive price (Tim had been skinned already, by Dave, I suppose, so that his `skin just flowed on to his cock head when he was not erect so that his piss slit kind of peeped out). What did amaze me was the price! Even with the 10% discount that our salesmen are able to give, if the customer asks, he was still very expensive - but then there are not a lot of fit, healthy young men on the market who have not had some criminal reason for being slaves, and I knew Dave was very good at setting prices and that it was probably the right "market rate". I doubted Tim would have to suffer the indignity of being put on the auction block.

Our chief salesman, Stuart, had evidently arrived for the day now as he came along and saw me reading the label. He glanced in to the cage and said "Good morning, sir. There's no doubt we'll get the price for this one and I've told my men not to budge on the price and not give the usual discount! Dave certainly has a good eye when it comes to buying stock, and with the training this one's had whilst Dave has owned him there's some lucky man out there...."

"So he won't be sold to a woman, then? I'd have thought some older woman looking for excitement would want a handsome virile piece of slave like this."

"Well not generally, sir. We do sell slaves to women of course, but usually older than this - in their late twenties generally. Women want an experienced slave, and one who's learned to take his time and deliver the maximum pleasure to her. A young buck like this can't control himself and he'll shoot too quickly. And it leads to all kinds of problems as it's very difficult to overcome the natural male urges at that age and so his owner will have to try to beat a bit of patience into him with the cane and the whip and stuff. Not only can they spoil his skin if they're too enthusiastic - and some women are, believe me, sir. But it can have the opposite effect and the slave can become so traumatised at the thought of shooting too soon that he loses the ability to shoot at all and his cock just hangs there!"

"Anyway, Stuart, I'm planning to buy this one myself. I've seen him in action with Dave of course, and he's got a nice personality to go with that body. Not everyone wants a subservient slave - I like ones like this who know they're slaves, understand they have to obey, but don't necessarily like it and there's a sort of bubbling resentment just below the surface. It makes it all so much more exciting." Even as I was speaking I could feel my cock rising at the thought of possessing Tim as my own property, so I added "So have him taken off sale, give him a T and some shorts, and have him sent up to my apartment."

"I can't do that, sir, not without you inspecting him. It will only take a few moments..."

"No, it's fine, I know the slave, know him well."

"Sorry, sir. But the law requires you to sign the proper slave purchase contract when you buy him from us, as Dave has already transferred him on to the books of Dave's Slaves with the slave sale contract, and it will be registered by now at central slave control. So it won't be a "private" sale between two gentlemen. And as a registered slave dealer we must use the contract, and one of the terms is that you agree that you have carried out a full, formal inspection of the merchandise." He paused then said "Look, sir, it need only take a minute or so. And if I don't get you to do it, what sort of a message is that sending to the other salesmen? It's hard enough already to stop them cutting corners - and it's really important, sir, as if a customer complains and it gets to Court and the customer then says that he did not inspect a slave it tends to invalidate the whole contract, and lay us open to potentially huge damages."

I was wavering, and at once he chipped in "Look, sir, we can do it now. I'll get him out of the cage and we'll go in to one of the private inspection rooms. Then you can just run your hands over him, and that's it."

At that moment my phone rang and Stuart seized the advantage. "I'll take him to room six, sir, then when you've finished your call...." Impatient to answer I nodded my agreement.

Our private inspection rooms are designed to put buyers at ease and give them privacy - some buyers are, after all, new to slave ownership and may be initially nervous about handling another man's body. So everything is calming - the soft carpet (except where the slave stands in case it pisses), comfortable couch, a drinks cabinet with a variety of soft drinks and alcohol, an upmarket coffee machine, and of course a door into a discrete private washroom so that the buyer can wash after handling the slave, or relieve himself if the excitement gets too much. I've also told you of my innovation to increase the customer experience - the salesman is expected to strip off his shorts so that he is wearing only his cap, leather belt hung with his goad, cane, communicator and so on, and his thick boots. I believed that having a naked salesman wearing only these near-fetish "accessories" handling and using the naked slave would increase the desirability of the slave as he would be seen by the client in a much more sensual way, and judging from our sales increases, I have been right as usual.

I relaxed on the sofa looking at Tim under the bright spotlight on the small display area - he could not easily see me, especially as he had adopted the standard slave rest position, with his head respectfully bowed. Stuart was standing next to him and initially said a few things about Tim, using his cane to touch Tim's body when he spoke about the well-formed pecs and dark aureoles, and lifting Tim's cock up with it as he spoke about Tim's general endowment. Then he paused and asked me if I had any questions.

"Yes. When my buddy bought a slave here last week he said he particularly enjoyed seeing the salesman naked too. But you've got those shorts on. Why?"

"I thought...", Stuart began.

"Don't think, act. Do your job properly."

With an angry glare Stuart dropped his shorts, struggling a bit to get them off over his thick boots. I made a mental note to have the next set for the salesmen cut with wider legs so that disrobing would be simple and slick. And it would add to the general air of excitement as the customer would always be wondering if the salesman's cock and balls would drop out from wide, very short shorts. Not in Stuart's case, though - he was one of those men who has a relatively short but very thick cock that was carried "on top of" a big, round ball sac.

"I'd like to see the salve masturbated", I told him. Stuart obediently knelt behind Tim and snaked one hand around Tim's body so that his hand rested flat on Tim's hard muscled belly. He pulled gently so that Tim was resting his naked butt against Stuart's equally naked shoulder, and I now knew I was right - seeing the naked body of a slave pressed close to that of a free man was indeed erotic. And it got more erotic when Stuart's other hand came round and started to stroke Tim.

I could tell Tim was hating it as he made an attempt to move forward, stopped by Stuart's hand on his belly. As a fit strong young man he could easily have broken free, but the hand was clearly an effective psychological restraint. It was then amusing to see that as Tim's cock stiffened and grew, so did Stuart's as he knelt there.

In spite of Tim's evident embarrassment and distress you need to remember that he's a virile young man, and with Stuart's hand sliding up and down his cock it was only moments before it was rock hard. And in spite of its size when Stuart let it go playfully, it reared upwards and I fancied I could hear it slapping against his belly! That's one of the things I miss, actually - my own cock used to go so high that it almost touched my navel, but as I got older and the muscles weakened slightly the most my natural erection now achieves is a few degrees above the horizontal.

Stuart continued to stroke Tim's cock and soon I could see the characteristic small motions and jerking of his body as his climax was close. "Be sure to catch his cum", I called to Stuart. "I want to see the quantity and quality."

I don't think Stuart liked this one little bit, but as soon as he sensed Tim's ejaculation - he had some warning as the shaft was glittering under the lights as Tim's pre-cum was rubbed in by Stuart's hand - Stuart stopped and then knelt there as Tim's cock jerked and jerked to fill Stuart's hand. He came over and presented Tim's cum to me, his nice thick cock jutting proudly out in front of him as he took the few steps, but then when I did nothing with it he realised he had no way of disposing of it so went back over to Tim, ordered him to kneel, and then lap his cum from Stuart's hand. I then had the agreeable spectacle of seeing Stuart pull his shorts on - almost as much fun as seeing him strip - and particularly enjoyed the efforts he had to make to get his erect cock "settled" properly into the tiny shorts.

The contrast between the big, burly free man bulging out of tiny shorts and the naked slim lithe slave was extra erotic, and I wondered if I could get all the salesmen to be erect all the time they were showing slaves - perhaps they could get some special additional payment for wearing tight cock rings, or something. However as an encouragement to him I told Stuart he could anyway take his commission on the sale even though he was selling to me.

Completing all the sale paperwork was, I was pleased to see, quick and easy. And within less than half an hour from leaving Dave in bed I had bought myself another slave.

End Of Part Twenty