Steve's First Job by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at Groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 8
Steve: Thank god you were OK. I used up almost all the credit on my cell trying to contact you - the people at your depot didn't know where you were, and I called your home, who said you were at work.... And you don't carry your cell around: really, Steve, that's so stupid! What are you going to do if one of those fucking slaves of yours escapes?
I know you were pissed off at me when finally you did answer your cell and I said it sounded like poetic justice to me (no, that's not justice meted out by poets like me!). But think about it, Steve - what did you do to those slaves when you first got them? You told me you had that two, and the others, on a "horse" and then you raped him. And when he was disobedient you had him on there again and caned him - in fact, you're proud of your prowess with the punishment cane.
And when we talked about whether that two minded having your dick forced into him, or was upset at being caned, you just said that he was a slave. So perhaps you now know what it's liked to be raped, and beaten up - think about it when you're dealing with that two and your other slaves. Stu.
Stu: For fuck's sake, it isn't the same at all. I'm a man, a free man, and that Matt raped me, and beat me up. What I do with the slaves is entirely different - fucking the slaves is part of the process of turning them from men into slaves - you need to do it, like you have them collared and tattooed and their pubes trimmed. And as for caning them - well, it's not like beating them up at all, surely you can see that! Slaves need discipline, and it's good for them - how else can they know that they've displeased you if you don't cane them? How else can they know that they're not working hard enough without the tawse or the whip "encouraging" them? I really am surprised at you, Stu, to compare what Matt did to me to the proper management of slaves. Steve.
Steve: Look, you and two are both men. And a dick forced up either of your asses causes you just as much pain, and makes you feel just as used, and takes away your sense of being a male. Can't you see that? Stu.
Stu: no, I don't see it at all. You only think that way because you don't work around slaves, and you don't have the responsibility for training and managing them. How on earth could I control big tough guys like two if I hadn't "broken" him, and if he wasn't aware that I could easily punish him if he fails to obey? Get real, Stu - physical discipline is the only thing that salves understand, the only thing that motivates them. I can't give him a bigger salary rise if he works harder, or promote him, or anything like that, as he's a slave. So the only thing left is physical punishment. How else would you keep a slave motivated? Read him a poem?!
Anyway, we're starting another quarrel here. Let's just agree to differ on the problems of slave management, and let me tell you what I did to get back at that fucker Matt. I was still really sore - those bruises all over me; and I looked a fright, with my black eye and bruised face. And it was REALLY painful to have to sit on the dray, and to keep getting on and off to deliver the packages, as my ass was so tender and sore. And crapping was a real trial, even though it turned out that my ass wasn't torn (as it could have been, with that forcible entry) - the blood I'd seen that night was just the kind of stuff you get from "enthusiastic" sex anyway, even though it had been pretty scary at the time. Still, no one gets away with stuff like that when they're dealing with me.
As he did most nights, Matt skimped on looking after his slaves and went over to the bar. I chatted to the concierge at the desk in the hall of the BDQ, and asked him to go and get me another blanket, and whilst he was away I leaned over and took the spare key to Matt's room from the key safe. I went up and let myself in, and I almost panicked as I saw again that terrible scene - it brought my memories flooding back.
The place was like a pigsty, with empty beer cans, unwashed plates, and dirty clothes strewn about the place, and there was the smell of unwashed bodies and stale food in the air. It almost made me gag and vomit. And I had to endure it for about two and a half hours, before I heard Matt getting back, and stumbling around in the hall as he was probably drunk.
The moment he came in I stabbed him with my slave prod, set to its maximum "stun" position, and he collapsed into a big sagging heap on the threshold. As I've told you, he's a really big, heavy guy and it took all my strength to drag him across the floor and onto the bed, and when he was there I hauled his arms above his head and cuffed his wrists to the headboard of the bed. As he's so strong and violent, I pulled his boots off, and the stench of his sweaty feet almost made me vomit yet again. I just waited then until he came around from the prod, and he was in some considerable pain, as you'd expect. But it turned to rage, the moment he realised that he was cuffed to the headboard, and that I was sitting there watching him.
He shouted and screamed at me to let him free, and I just shook my head, and went and stood by the bed. He tried to lash out at me with his legs, and so I reached over and grabbed his dick through his shorts, and squeezed it and his balls hard: he really had something to scream about now, and I ordered him to be silent, and lie still.
"So, Matt, you like sex with other guys", I told him calmly. "So you're going to have a really good night tonight - there's going to be a lot of sex!" He started shouting again, being really abusive and using the type of language I imagine is common in the barracks room, so I shut him up by another squeeze to his balls. But when I started to pull his shorts off it started all over again, and I had to wave the lave prod in the air near his neck to remind him to be silent. Like all of us he didn't have underwear under his shorts, so his monstrous dick, the one that had raped me, was lying there like a fat, lifeless sausage over his big balls. I prodded at it with the slave prod (not turned on) as I wanted to show him that I had the power to seriously hurt him if I wanted to, and as I moved his dick and balls around with the tip, he gradually became erect. "So, do you want to fuck again, Matt? Do you want to force that big dick up me again?" "Look, Steve, just let me go, will you, and we'll forget all about this....", he began, and I silenced him by tapping his balls with my prod, making him wince. "No, Matt - we can't forget about it. And, anyway, I wouldn't want to deprive you of an evening of sex!"
He watched as I tied a rope around his ankle and then looped it around the headboard of the bed, but when I started to tighten the rope to pull his leg up above his head, he resisted. "Now, Matt, be careful!", I chided him. "I think it would be best if you co-operated with me, don't you? Would you like the slave prod turned on?" He could see that he was helpless and in my power, and relaxed his muscles, so that I could then tie his leg in place, and I repeated the process on his right side so that he was then in the classic position for fucking - lying there on his back, legs spread and feet pulled right back. His hole was there, right in front of me, surrounded by his fat butt and the untidy mass of thick black curls that was his pubic hair. There was a nasty smell of shit and stale sweat, and, to tell you the truth, I really didn't fancy fucking it at all. But I'd thought of that, and the fact that I really wanted to hurt this fucker, so during the day I'd had the slaves stop for a few moments downtown whilst I went into a sex shop and bought a dildo - a monstrous, black leather one, one that cannot possibly have been modelled on any real life dick ever in existence! Look, Stu, you know that I've not got anything to be ashamed of as far as dick size is concerned, as you were always telling me how hard it was to wrap your fingers around it when we were fooling around together, and when we stood face to face and kissed, it was obvious that mine was so much longer even than yours. But I really wanted to teach Matt a lesson, and so I'd gone and bought this monstrous thing.
Matt's eyes almost popped out of his head when I produced it, and I said quietly "Do you want to lube it a bit, Matt? " as I moved it towards his lips. He turned his head away, muttering "Fucker!", and I just shrugged, positioned it at his hole, and pushed. I very quickly realised that his screams would alert someone and interrupt us, so I pulled his stinking socks off his feet and simply stuffed them into his mouth (squeezing his balls to make him open wide!). And then I worked on him with that thing - he tried to arch his body as if to get away from it as I slowly and inexorably pushed it right up inside him, and he was thrashing his head from side to side and making loud but totally inarticulate noises as I did so. It was really difficult, I can tell you - there's an incredible resistance to overcome if you try to push something that size up an ass without lubing and stretching! Then when it was right in, I didn't allow him any time to recover at all as I started to slide it in and out, all the time seeing Matt's body spasming, and listening to the terrible noises he was making.
The problem in using a dildo of course is that although it stretches the hole and can hurt terribly as it does so, there's no other physical sensation as there is when you fuck a guy properly - that additional hurt you can cause when you really slam your body hard against the sensitive parts of his, and I didn't want Matt to miss out on any of this! I'd thought about caning him, but had instead also bought a paddle, a long, very flexible one made of stiff black leather, and so I pushed the dildo up him once more and left it there, and then began to beat at those very sensitive parts of his body with this paddle. The "slap" noise it made as the leather made contact with the tender skin on the inside of Matt's thighs right near his hole was most gratifying, especially as I saw Matt jerk with shock each time it struck. In addition to the noise he was making, I could see tears coursing down his cheeks now, so I began once more to alternate quick, violent thrusts with the dildo with sessions with the paddle.
He was lucky that I bore easily, Stu, as I just couldn't be bothered to carry on for more than about fifteen minutes, but when I pulled the dildo out for the last time I almost restarted when I saw how much he'd been stretched by it - I just knew it must be almost agonisingly painful for him, and that he'd be completely humiliated by what had happened to him. I needed to do a few more things, though, so the electric clippers I'd borrowed from the slave sheds were used to quickly strip off the majority of the hair around his ass and pubes, and then I unbuttoned his shirt and ran them right up through the forest of his belly and chest, leaving a white trail through the black curls. I didn't really like having to jerk him off, so I pulled on a rubber glove to do it, and I simply didn't care that the friction this caused seemed to be making the shaft of his dick red and sore, even breaking the sensitive skin slightly so that there were red patches of blood on the glove! The white path down his body was then slicked with his cum, and then, as a finale, I went and stood right by his face and jerked myself off so that my cum sprayed all over his eyes, nose and chin.
It was like photographing the carcass of some hunted animal when I got out my digital camera and started to take shots of him - his ass with the dildo sticking out, his dick and balls shaved of their hair, the cum streaking his shaved chest, and finally the smears of my cum all over his face, and then I'd finished. I untied his legs, and then, as I went to untie his hands, I got out my prod again and let him see me turn it on. "So, Matt, that's what it's like to get force fucked!" I told him. "I could have done it myself: as you saw when I shot my cum all over your face, I've got a big dick, too. But I didn't want it up your dirty ass, and so I used the dildo instead. I've got some good pictures, Matt - picture s that will go up in the BDQ, and in the bar over the road, and out on the web. Do you want all the other draymen to see you with big black dildo up you, Matt? And for them to know that another man's cum has slimed all over your face? So just lie the quietly until I've gone, and let there be no thought of you taking revenge tomorrow - you touch me, and the stuff will be where everyone can see it."
I turned and walked out of the door, and went along the corridor to tell Jon all about it. He was actually quite worried, as he said that Matt couldn't be trusted to leave me alone and that he thought I was now very at much at risk of a really serious beating. But I thought that I could take care of myself, and wasn't worried. I went back through the salve barns to make sure my slaves were OK, and wished them a cheery good night as I was in a good mood now, but as I went past Matt's slaves I also took a look in, and it was horrible! I don't think they had had clean straw for weeks, as it smelt rank and unwholesome, and they were just sitting there looking really miserable. They're not big, tough guys like mine as Matt didn't care what he was given, and they were an odd mixture of sizes and shapes. He also dressed them in shorts on the streets, as the company paid a "laundry allowance" for this, and the more I looked, the more it was obvious that Matt claimed the money, but never had their shorts laundered as they were all filthy and tattered. I really felt sorry for one slave in particular who was just sitting there with his back against the rear wall, his head resting on his drawn-up knees as if he was trying to comfort himself. I ordered the slaves to their feet, and as they did so this one slave seemed to have difficulty in rising, so I shouted at him to get a move on and one of the others called out "Please allow him more time, sir, as his collar hurts so much... Please don't cane him, sir...."
I called this slave to me and was horrified at what I saw - there must have been a rough place on the base of his collar as his neck was covered in sores, some of which were bloody, some weeping pus, and some which were covered in thick scabs. The collar must have been doing this for weeks, and how could Matt not have known as it was obviously affecting the slave's performance if it was so painful that he couldn't move quickly? I then noticed that a lot of the slaves were scratching themselves, and especially their pubes, and it occurred to me that there must be fleas, or even lice, in these filthy conditions! It was absolutely disgraceful, wasting the company resources like this, and I flipped open my cell and called to Jon to come down.
We ordered the slaves to strip, and the damage to their bodies was dreadful as there were cane stripes and whip marks all over them, not just on those areas where it's "safe" to cane a slave, such as the butt and thighs. Jon pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and started to look critically at the slaves' pubes and said quietly one word "Crabs!". The slaves were very thin, too, almost emaciated, and we wondered why as there was always enough food in the feeder to keep the slaves healthy and in good condition. Jon asked them when they were last fed, and one slave dared to say that Master Matt had given them breakfast, but was "as usual" punishing them for not working hard enough by withholding their dinner. I tell you, Stu, it was a complete disgrace: the sores, the filthy conditions giving rise to the crabs, and letting the slaves starve - how on earth was Matt supposed to get them to give the effort they needed to the Company? And he was certainly misusing our valuable assets. I turned to Jon and said "Fire him!", and when Jon started to argue as he quite liked Matt "as a person", even though "he clearly had a few work-related problems", I almost lost my temper with him, and told him that if he didn't fire Matt there and then, I'd tell dad about the very lax state at the depot!
We simmered down, though, and as we worked away together to try to recover the slaves, he did begin to realise that Matt had to go - he was just so fucking idle, so mad keen to get over to the pub, that he neglected his slaves, which were his responsibility. Then there was the issue of defrauding the company - he must be claiming "laundry allowance" for the slaves' shorts but clearly it wasn't being done: apart from anything else, the sight of these dirty creatures on the streets would not be a good advertisement for our company. With this many examples of his unsatisfactory performance, he could not, after all, sue us for wrongful dismissal!
The first thing I did was to fetch a couple of feeders over and we had the slaves kneel so that we could pump some food into them - a couple of complete doses each (you can't give them more, as it's so concentrated that it would be bad for them). Jon then ordered them to clear away their filthy straw (they'd even soiled it, as presumably Matt had not got them trained properly to only crap when they were in the showers), and to scrub out their cage with disinfectant before laying down fresh straw from the barn. Their shorts had to go, of course, and we then took them off to the showers, but as they came out they had to be clipped and shaved: Jon roused one of the slave "grooms" we keep to do things like this, and he clipped off all their body hair, and then shaved away the stubble. Jon told me that the only way you can really get rid of "crabs" - pubic lice - if you don't want a long programme of special shampoos and stuff is just to get rid of the nesting places, so all these slaves' hair just had to go.
You always think I'm "cruel" to slaves, Stu, so you'd have been proud of me then. The slave with all the sores looked so young and vulnerable as he knelt there in front of me, now more naked than he'd ever been before as he'd lost every trace of his hair. He was only about our age anyway, I'd guess, and with more of your taller, lanky build than mine, but he was so painfully thin that I could clearly see all his ribs outlined through his skin. I went to examine the sores, and he whimpered softly as I moved the collar and felt for the rough patch. Then, as I tried to calm him and reassure him, I asked him what his number was, and he said "Chad, sir. Master Matt doesn't give us numbers, but lets us use our own names." I fetched a file from over in the workshops, and as I gently filed away at the rough place, I asked him more about himself. Incredibly, Stu, he'd gone into the northern army at eighteen and was barely out of training before they'd sent him down to fight us! So he was just like us - at some point he'd have been listening to the same music, going to the same movies, learning the same stuff at school - but now he was a naked slave kneeling at my feet, and he'd be a slave for the rest of our lives. If the war had gone differently, Stu, it could have been us kneeling like that in front of some northerner! Once his collar was smooth, I rubbed salve into his wounds and disinfectant - he cried out as that really stung him - and as I worked away he seemed to grow in confidence as he looked up at me as my fingers massaged his neck. He said "Sir, please, sir, could you call my folks in Philadelphia? They'd take a collect call, sir, as they must be worried sick about me - I never got a chance to tell them I was captured, and dad, in particular, will be so worried as I'm his only son, and....". I had to stop him, Stu, as I didn't want to hear more about how similar we were - I mean, I might have to discipline this slave soon, and you can't afford to be too close to them. You know what they say.... in the words of the old saying "You can't be friends with a slave". It was the same with the southern guy, four, who had tried begging me to call his wife and tell her he was alive, as he'd left her with two small kids. I'd had to explain to him, as I now explained to Chad, that he was a slave now, and slaves don't have families! And even if their loved ones knew where they were, there was nothing they could do about it as a slave was a slave for life, with no possibility of being free again. In fact, in law, all sorts of stuff like marriages are automatically dissolved as the slave is of course not a real person and only people can marry, inherit money from their fathers, and so on. Still, he was good to look at, even in his pathetic state, and if I closed my eyes as I massaged the stuff into him, I could almost imagine it was you. Steve.
Steve: So, not content with fucking slaves, you're going into the BDSM scene too, are you? Tying up, leather dildos, shaving..... whatever next? I'm expecting an e-mail from you any day now telling me you've bought one of those female slaves - I know they're high priced as they're relatively rare as there were so few women in the army, but then, your dad can afford it! Perhaps you can share her with him? Look, I know it feels good to take revenge, but remember what the good book says "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the lord". I'm surprised you feel so passionately about these slaves - one minute you say they're just like animals, so they can be fucked and whipped and so on, and the next minute you're feeling sorry for them as they're dirty, lice-ridden, starving, and covered in sores, because their drayman doesn't take proper care of them! It strikes me you're a bit inconsistent, Steve: when it suits you, you say they're animals as you feel it's not right to fuck a man against his will (it's called rape - remember?). But then the next minute it's Steve the caring one, outraged that these "animals" are not being treated properly. Doesn't this strike you as odd? Stu.
Stu: Please.... No more of this! You almost made me vomit into the PC! I mean, even suggesting that I might fuck a woman. And as for sharing with dad - ugh! That great fat belly of his.... I can hardly imagine he could even mount a woman, let alone fuck her. But perhaps it mightn't be so bad - a lot of those women soldiers are really "butch" and if I took them up the ass it can't be all that different, can it? Still, who needs it, when there's enough proper sex to be had any time I want it, with my slaves.
And my attitude to the slaves isn't at all inconsistent - they are animals, and they are there to be used - used for work (when they need "encouraging" to give of their best), and used for sex, if I choose.
And it's not "compassion" that makes me furious at the way Matt treated his gang, it's the waste of money involved! These slaves are really expensive, you know. There's a lot of the company's money tied up in them, and, really, that's going to be my money one day. Of course I'm furious when I see something that belongs to me being mistreated and devalued. I hope that clears it up, once and for all.
Anyway, let me tell you what happened next. Jon called Matt in the following morning and fired him. The bully argued and shouted, but Jon handed him a pile of expense claims where he'd put in for laundry for the slave shorts, and said he'd call the cops if Matt didn't clear out. And he let Matt "notice" that elsewhere on his desk there was one of the photos I'd taken of Matt with the dildo sticking out of his ass, and his face covered in cum where you could just see the last inch of my dick, which had clearly deposited the cum over him! Matt got the hint, that he'd be ridiculed by all the other draymen if he tried to stay, and stormed out. That left his team of slaves and, initially at least, Jon decided to rest them for a day, and then put them into the "pool" of spare slaves that we can use to back-fill a team if one of the regular slaves in that team is injured. I happened to be passing on my way to get two and the boys, as a driver came out to lead them away. Young Chad was standing there, looking really pleased to be let off work, as were the others. But I had an idea, and told the guard to take the other seven away, and to lead Chad over to my dray and tell him to wait.
When I'd got all the other eight in position on the pulling pole and we went off to load up, I told Chad to watch carefully as the warehouse slaves loaded all the packages. I've told you how they load them in "delivery route" sequence except for the large, or bulky ones, and this always causes problems as the stuff gets out of sequence and sometimes we really have to search for a package, that holds everything up. So I asked Chad if he could read, and he snapped back that if it wasn't for the war he'd be in college (like you, Stu!). I had to strike at him with the tawse for using that tone, of course, and then I gave him the loading manifest. I told him that his job was to ride on the back and sort the packages as we went along, so that the right one would always be to hand whenever we stopped. I tapped my cane with my hand as I reminded him that I wanted this done properly, and that I wouldn't tolerate delays as this was his sole task today.
The other slaves looked mildly rebellious as they saw they were going to have to pull the weight of another slave as well as the loaded dray, but this is where two is so good - within seconds he'd reminded them that it was no good bitching and arguing about it, as it was my decision, and they'd just got to get on with it and make the best of it. And, I have to say, it was another one of those strokes of innovative genius on my part - without any delays at each delivery point, we got back to the depot an hour earlier than expected. I looked at my eight sweating slaves and pointed out they had another hour of relaxation now, and I could see them nodding - so maybe they understood that my scheme wasn't so terrible after all. But who cares what they think? Mind you, I told two that I thought that Chad needed exercising, as although he'd been clambering around on the dray all day, that was hardly sufficient. So when I took them over to the cage and fed them, I put all eight of them in it as usual, then pushed Chad in, before locking the gate for the night. Two at once cleared space in the middle of them all - not easy, given the size of the cage, and there were now nine of them in there and not eight, remember - and began to bark orders for Chad to run on the spot, then do "jumping jacks", then push-ups. At first Chad tried to simply ignore two and not do it, but two is of course six inches taller and at least fifty pounds of pure muscle heavier than Chad. After a couple of attempts to reason with him, two bent down, grabbed Chad and put him over his knee, and gave him four big slaps on the butt. Chad squealed, I can tell you, but when he saw all the other slaves were laughing he realised that two had not hurt him all that much, but that he'd better do as he was told in case two really turned nasty. I went home feeling really pleased with progress. Steve.
Steve: OK, so the odious Matt has gone. But you've thrown this poor kid, the one who looks like me, in with these eight big horny men and locked them in overnight together? I thought you told me that there was only just room for the eight to sleep as it was, as it was a deliberate policy, to help with "bonding". And now you've added a ninth? I think I can feel my ass beginning to ache just at the thought of it! I suppose you're expecting these eight big guys to fuck the kid - they're all taller, more powerful, older.... What chance does he have? Psychologists might say that you're doing "transference" - you really want to be in there yourself, being ravished by these guys! Or that you secretly want to ravish me, and you're living out a fantasy by having eight big bucks ravishing a guy who looks a lot like me! It's all a bit "deep", Steve.... Or were you just trying to reward your slaves for a job well done by giving them some tender young chicken (I believe the phrase is, in the circles in which you move!). Stu.
Stu: Firstly, I don't need to reward slaves. Slaves just do as they're told. When will you get this simple idea into your thick skull, college boy? Hmmm.... Have you switched from English Lit and poetry to psychology 101? Transference, indeed! You must know you're spouting a load of rubbish: I've never secretly wanted to ravish you - I've always been perfectly open and frank about it! It's only you who always stopped it getting interesting after I'd finally got you to see how much more fun jerking off together, rather than separately, was. No, I put the ninth slave, Chad, in there as I want him to become part of the team, a full part of the team. And I also want him to look good - a bit more muscle is always pleasing to the eye. And, anyway, what makes you think that he might get "ravished"? A lot of nineteen year olds are perfectly capable of taking charge and "ravishing" older guys, you know, even if they're bigger, stronger, etc. It all depends on who likes to give, and who likes to take, dick.
Anyway, the following morning when I went down to the cage it was good to see that two had protected Chad all night - the kid was spooned up against two, and two had his arm wrapped protectively around him. I woke them all up and had them kneel, then told them I wanted to see them all jerk off (I'd sort of got out of the habit of this, as I generally allowed them to fuck and stuff at night). All my eight at once started, of course, but a look of almost pure horror went across Chad's face! He looked a bit like you, Stu, that night when I suggested that after we'd got used to jerking off together, we might go on to something a bit more adult! He looked along the line of slaves and saw all their dicks sticking out and the hands in motion, and very reluctantly, very slowly, he began to do the same. They all make a lot of noise, actually - as they get near the edge they start moaning and grunting and crying out (I'd thought about ordering them to be silent, but it seems a pity to spoil one of the few bits of pleasure they have, and, actually, it's anyway quite a turn-on to have all these guys grunting away as their seed shoots out), and it didn't take long before Chad was the same: his head was thrown back and his back was arched, and his dick was really good when erect - nice and smooth, without any of those thick veins some guys have. They all shoot at different times, of course, and Chad was one of the first to fire, in spite of his embarrassment: it wasn't just the fact that he had to do this very "private" thing in public now, but he must have seen that his own body was so different from all the others around him - they were tall, muscular, tanned, and nicely trimmed, whereas he was shorter, thin, had stark white thighs and butt, and was completely hairless.
Still, when I allowed them all to stand up, he seemed to have the same type of smile on his face that all the others did, so I guess he enjoyed it. I called him out of the line then, and had him bend backwards over a "horse" so that his dick was at a convenient height for me to work with. I stretched his dick and balls away from his body - as gently as I could - and snapped one of the steel rings around, at the root, locking it shut with the special key. He now had the same sort of cinch ring as the others, except it was much more visible as there was no pubic hair to conceal it. He looked worried, and when I gave the order to march out to the dray, he looked around for his shorts: two evidently guessed what I meant to do, though, as he nudged Chad and made him jog out with the rest, and Chad then had to work away naked as the packages were all loaded. It was only as the dray approached the gates of the depot that he dared to lean forward and said to me "Please, sir, can I put my shorts on now?" and I had to give him the little lecture I'd given all the others about how he didn't need them, as his slave collar was absolutely sufficient. He looked so young and innocent with his thin white body, entirely devoid of hair, and as we went through the gates and out on to the highway he tried in vain to cover himself with his hands.
Today I tried an even more daring strategy for improving efficiency - instead of having Chad just sort the packages so we had short delivery stops, when those packages were very small I had him jump down from the dray, go to deliver them himself and then run to catch us up - we didn't stop at all. He seemed to hate it - well, think about it, Stu: a guy of our age, having to run naked (and more than that - remember, he was completely hairless) to talk to people as he got receipts signed for and so on, and then having to run at high speed with his dick bobbing up and down as he chased after the dray! But that's not the point, is it? The fact of the matter is that we achieved record delivery times, and even though all the slaves were bone tired (the eight on the dray were used to having short breaks in the stops, and Chad was of course running most of the time), it was a huge increase in efficiency. That night I rewarded them all with a couple of slave treats, and declared it another "free sex" night - not that I think most of them were in the mood, as their limbs all ached a lot. Steve.
Steve: Great news! I proposed to Inga last night, and she accepted. We're planning to get married in the Fall, from our house, as my mom and dad and all the family don't want to travel to Sweden - Inga's folks are happy to come here, though. Will you be my "best man", as Inga calls it - you know: organise the stag night, get me to the church on time, make sure I have the ring, look after the bridesmaids, make a funny speech at the reception.... and all that sort of stuff? But seriously, though, Steve: remember, dad's a respected pastor, and we have a position to maintain in society. So no stripping me naked at the stag night, no risky jokes at the reception.... This is serious, Steve: I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I don't want it all to start badly. Stu.
Stu: Of course I will! If you hadn't chosen me I'd never have spoken to you again. And I promise not to strip you at the stag night - but if you're very drunk, I might just jerk you off as we used to! Speaking of which, why don't you come down for the weekend, and let's just be close, and talk, and laugh, and have "fun" just as we used to, before you went away? Now that you're fucking women it doesn't mean that you can't also have a little recreational sex with your oldest buddy. A lot of married guys do, so it must be OK for engaged ones, too. Steve.
Steve: I love Inga, I told you that. I couldn't have sex with another guy when I'm in love with her. I don't care what other men do - this one isn't going to. And you're making a false assumption: we're not "fucking" as you so inelegantly put it. We're saving each other for our wedding night. Stu.
Stu: You can't be serious! How on earth can you even think about marrying her when you haven't fucked her? What's the matter? Are you afraid, or something? It certainly can't be that you're ashamed of that dick of yours, or your body - both very desirable, believe me, speaking as one who has a keen appreciation of the male form. Come on home, buddy, and let's get this sorted - we're close enough that you can tell me what's wrong, and I promise not to laugh! If it's your lack of experience you're worried about, we can just get two or one of the other formerly married slaves to tell you what to do and how to do it! I'm told that providing you do it "doggy fashion" a nice ass isn't all that different from some woman's cunt, so we could get one of the slaves to tell you about it, then you could practice on him, then he could critique it. Steve.
Steve: Look, Steve, I don't suppose you can understand this, but the Lord tells us in the bible that marriage is a sacred trust, and that it's wrong to have sex outside marriage. So I'm remaining chaste until after the ceremony. And as for the idea that I might fuck one of your slaves, it's preposterous - that's certainly a sin, for one man to lie with another! So let's drop this one, shall we? I'll get home as soon as I can for a weekend, but there won't be any fucking - not even any jerking off together. Look, I want us to stay friends, just as we always have been, but marriage changes everything and inevitably there will be some differences in the way we hang out and so on - for one thing, I expect Inga and I will ask you around to dinner, and stuff like that, and there won't be as many times when we are just alone together. But let's stay friends, OK? Stu.
Stu: Of course we'll stay friends. Even if I am a miserable sinner, in your eyes, for "lying with another man" - although as I mostly go with slaves now as most of the other guys are away at college, like you, I suppose that's OK as they're not men (no, don't respond, I'm only teasing!). Let me tell you about how things are going here in the boring old world of work, though.
Having the young slave Chad doing most of the deliveries then running to catch up with the dray was a real success, as we now could go back to the depot and load up again in the day as we'd saved so much time. The slaves all grumbled, of course, but a few gruff words from two, reinforced by a little light caning from me, soon restored them to their senses and made them properly respectful and obedient again. Chad soon put on a bit of muscle and ceased to look like a half-starved waif, but not so much that he looked as well developed as two and the others - well, at our age it's difficult, isn't it? However much you work out you tend to keep toned and fit, but unless you devote yourself to it full time, you can't get those ridges of muscle on your belly, and bulging biceps, and so on - that seems to happen as you get more mature. He really does remind me of you, Stu - providing, that is, you've kept up going to the gym! Nice long legs, a butt that just calls out for fucking, and a dick that's just right for his body size hanging over nice low, swinging balls. And he's got cute eyes, too - the most astonishing piercing shade of blue, and nice white, even teeth. I suspect he's a virgin, too - when I'd initially inspected him his ass was so tight, and he squirmed so uncomfortably as I tried to push a finger in that I suspected that he'd never had proper sex - just like you, Stu! And since he'd been with my team, they'd kind of treated him as some sort of "mascot" - this much younger, slimmer, guy in amongst all those mature men - and they hadn't even tried to fuck him. He generally slept curled up around two, as if this gave him "protection" from the others, and, so far a I could see from scanning the security tapes, two had never even tried to take advantage of him. He did the "group" sex things of course, as he had no option but to obey me when I made them line up and jerk off together in the mornings (well, you can't have these naked slaves going through the streets dripping pre-cum, can you? It would send the wrong sort of messages to our customers. So the slaves needed "draining" occasionally, and getting them all to do it at one time is the easiest way of making sure all of them have done it).
I'd been over to the bar for a couple of beers with the other draymen - even though Matt had gone, the bar tender still served me as he valued the depot's business too much to bother about enforcing the law - and was walking back to the depot a bit unsteadily, when my dick went hard. I don't know why - we all get spontaneous erections, don't we? Even poet like you, who don't have sex....? It's part of being a young male! I was really aching by the time I'd got back, as my dick rubbed against the material of my uniform shorts, and I was almost desperate to jerk off. I thought about putting one of the slaves on the "horse" and fucking him, and as my mind raced through the possibilities and was busy selecting which of the eight I'd have, I almost completely forgot Chad. But once I'd thought about him, it was impossible to get him out of my mind. I just knew that I was leaking pre-cum all over my shorts as I imagined his lovely tender butt pulled apart and my dick nudging at his virgin hole: it would be such a change from the big, hard muscles of the other slaves. And I might even be taking the cherry of a guy my own age - our age, I should say. Other than the bit of mutual jerking off we did together, I'd never had sex with a guy like us before, and the more I thought about it, the more this is what I knew I must do! My pace speeded up and my heart began to thud with the excitement in store for me, and my brain filled with the images of Chad's slim body on the horse, of the way he'd buck and scream as my dick went into him, and how it would feel afterwards to be lying on top of a fresh young body like his: it would be such a change to feel his body under mine and to have my thighs hard up against his almost smooth ones, rather than the tough curly hair on one of the other slaves.
I went into the slave barn, but when I got to the cage with the nine of them in it, I began to sweat with apprehension. I'd never had any problems before when I'd decided to fuck one of the slaves, but for some reason I suddenly began to worry that when my dick was having to force itself in to him, I might have one of those embarrassing failures as my dick went soft on me - it does happen occasionally to all of us, after all.
And the more I thought about it, the more I knew it might happen, and then all the eight others watching me through the bars would start to laugh at me... And as I thought about that, my dick started to go soft!
End Of Part Eight