Slave Revolt

THE SLAVE REVOLT

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Eleven

Rob and I were alone now, and the room was silent. I could feel his cum trickling out of my ass and down my thighs, and I began to move, as best I could, and to call out through the gag for him to let me go. Rob stood there for a long time, looking very uneasy, before he came over and began to undo the straps holding the gag into my mouth. Finally I was free to speak, and I almost shouted "Rob, what the fuck is going on? Why doesn't your father know I saved you? Why does he think I'm one of the rebels, Why...."

"Shut up, Steve! I can't have you speaking like this."

"Shut up? Why should I shut up? You owe your life to me, and yet I've been treated vilely, almost gelded...."

"Steve, I said shut up! I can't have talk like that around the place. Look, you're OK, you haven't been gelded....."

"No, but I've been whipped, beaten, made to work as a dray.... And your father even branded me again - have you any idea how much that hurts?"

"Oh come on, Steve! It's not as bad as all that! You used to work as a dray before, sometimes. You never complained about it then - I remember dad saying that you quite liked the change, as it was a chance to do some real work...."

This was just ridiculous! I was tied down on the horse, arguing the toss with this kid whose life I'd saved, and who didn't seem to think there was a problem. So I tried to calm down as best I could - my temper was rising, and I knew that if I lost it I'd be totally incoherent. So I took a deep breath, and deliberately toned down my voice and spoke more quietly. "Look, Rob, there's been some terrible mistake. I wasn't a rebel - you know that! I certainly never joined them. In fact, as you well know, if it hadn't been for me getting you out of the house, and looking after you all that time as we fled from the rebels, you'd be as dead as most of your father's guards and overseers were. So I don't understand why your father thinks I was a rebel.... And why he doesn't seem a bit grateful to me for saving you.... In fact, he doesn't even seem to realise that I did save you!"

"Steve, all will be explained in due course... Things are a bit complicated...."

I lost it then, and couldn't help almost screaming at him "A bit complicated? A bit fucking complicated? I'll say! I've been almost flayed alive by your father, branded, worked almost to death.... And you say 'it's a bit complicated' - what the fuck's going on?"

"Steve, calm it, will you? The guard will hear...."

"NO I will not! You owe me, Rob, owe me big time! For fuck's sake, tell me what's going on...."

I was shouting so loudly now that the guard must have heard, even through the thick door, as he came in and said to Rob "Is this boy still causing problems, sir? He's nothing but trouble - always fighting with the other drays, and not acting like a proper slave at all. I think the boss had decided to have him gelded in order to calm him down."

"Well, that's called off, at least for the time being."

"At least for the time being?", I screamed at Rob. "What the fuck do you mean?, 'at least for the time being'?"

The guard took his cane off his belt and slashed it down twice across my butt, as I lay there helpless. "Shut the fuck up, boy!", he snarled. "That's no way for a slave to speak to a free man! I know you're only a dray, but surely even slave beasts like you are taught the proper respectful way of speaking to free men...."

"Rob, tell him to leave me alone....", I asked, at least not shouting now and trying to sound calm. "And get me off this horse...."

"Can I borrow your cane, please?", I heard Rob ask the guard, - I was so astonished that I thought I must have misheard him. Then Rob came and stood by my head and ran his fingers almost sensuously through my hair.

"Now, Steve, we can't have you behaving like this, can we? As the guard said, you surely know the respectful way of speaking to free men. And if you don't obey the rules, you know what happens...."

"Rob, for fuck's sake, be real! Let me off this thing, let's talk about what happened, let's....."

"I did warn you, Steve", Rob said calmly, and then proceeded to slash the cane across my shoulders three times. It was one of those thin canes that really, really stings, and I wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't drawn blood.

"Rob!", I protested, and all I got for it was to have Rob move down a bit, and proceed to slash the cane viciously across my butt - again and again and again! I counted at least eight strokes before they all became a single blur of throbbing pain in which individual strokes were indistinguishable.

Finally he stopped, and I was too winded to say anything - all I could do was lie there and take big rasping breaths as I fought to get my body under control.

"Now, Steve, let that be a lesson to you!", he said, standing by my head now again and ruffling his fingers through my hair, in a gesture of ownership, almost. "My father has given me to you, Steve, but he's worried that you're wild and unruly. I need to show him that I can control you, that I can train you to e a properly respectful, hardworking slave. And if you continue to disobey the rules, rules which you know well, then I will have to continue to beat you. It's for your own good, Steve - you know that really: unless you can be seen to be a good slave, my father will take your ownership back and have you gelded. "

He paused for breath and went on "Look at it from his point of view, Steve - the estate was wrecked, the house was almost burned down and was anyway looted, we lots a lot of valuable slaves.... And he's naturally concerned that any future signs of sedition should be stamped on firmly, before they grow into another rebellion. And the way to do that is to ensure that all the slaves know their proper place, that they all obey, totally and completely, all the orders...."

"Rob, you have to be joking! After all we've been through...."

The cane came down four more times across my shoulders, and as I screamed with each blow I was unable to pursue the argument!

"I told you, Steve", Rob said quietly. "Now, we can carry on like this indefinitely. I will have to carry on beating you until you speak properly to your new owner. I will keep you there for days, if necessary, and beat obedience into you if I need to. But I know you're a sensible kind of guy, Steve, and you understand that I'm in control now, totally in control - you stay on the horse until I choose to release you. So are you going to be respectful, or not?"

I lay there, my back and butt on fire from the caning, and every fibre in me wanted to scream out that he should fuck off, that he owed me big time, and that he should cut this crap and start treating me properly. But what was the point? Look, I'm no a coward or anything, but I don't subscribe to the view that when the situation is hopeless you should make a pointless gesture - I'd never have gone on "The Charge Of The Light Brigade", for example. No, I believe in husbanding my resources, and waiting for the opportunity to take the enemy when the odds are more favourable. This was one o those times, I reckoned - there was no way I could break free of the horse, and I could be there for ever, unless I did something. So, quietly and calmly, I said "Sir, yes, sir."

"Good boy, Steve!", Rob responded, and I cringed inwardly as he spoke - I mean, you get used to guards and people like that calling you "boy" because you're a slave, but it was Rob doing it: Rob who was himself only a boy. It was so fucking humiliating - to be fucked by a kid, and now called "boy" by him.

"Right then, Steve - as you've calmed down, I think we can let you out of the horse." I cheered up as Rob said this, but he went on "Guard, will you keep your prod ready in case of trouble? And as you free one arm, attach it to the collar before you do the other...."

All I could do was lie there as the guard bent down and freed my wrist, then, before I could even stretch it to relieve some of the aches and cramps, he pulled it roughly behind my neck and snapped the "D" ring on it to that on my collar, before proceeding to do the same to my other arm. At last my ankles were free, though, and I was able to stand upright. Rob and the guard both looked at me as my body was totally exposed to them as I stood there, and the guard gave a low whistle. "He certainly is a fantastic slave, sir, if I may say so. But he looks vicious to me - all those whip scars and cane marks, and you can tell he's a fighter - look at all the bruising; and someone's broken his nose.... I'd be very careful if I were you, sir - once a slave goes 'rogue', as this one might have done, it's almost impossible to bring them back under proper control".

"Thanks for the advice", Rob told him. "And I am planning to take a few precautions. But they teach us in school that no one is wholly bad, that with care and love, even the most hardened can be redeemed. And I'm going to do it: as you say, he's a magnificent piece of slave flesh, and it would be a pity to waste it."

"It's good to hear you say that, sir. Our pastor is always telling us that good things happen through the love of the Lord Jesus. Would you like me to pray for you, sir?"

"Well I suppose you could pray for the slave - I'm not in need of any help, but he certainly seems every bit of support he can get."

"Oh no, sir: the good Lord only helps men. Although he created animals, and slaves, they have no souls, so he can't influence them."

I stood there in incredulity listening to all this crap. Why on earth did Rob put up with it? Still, as least I could see why a supposed Christian like the guard was able to beat slaves, and, presumably, kill them and fuck them if he wanted to: I didn't have a soul, so I didn't count in his scheme of things.

"I'm going to take him off for a little training now", Rob told the guard. "He's harmless enough cuffed like that - any sign of trouble and I can knee him in the groin, or punch his belly - he can't resist."

"Do be careful, sir. These slaves can be vicious - and a brute like that can do a lot of damage, even secured as he is: watch out for those elbows - if he attacks you with those, he can still damage you. And he can still kick.... Perhaps you'd better go off and check out a slave prod from the armoury, sir..... Or perhaps I should accompany you...."

"There's no need of that - but a slave prod sounds a good idea. Can you lend me yours, and go and get a new one yourself as I'm in a bit of a hurry?"

The guard handed his prod over to Rob - who snapped it open with practised ease, checked the charge dial, and closed it. I wondered when, or why, he'd learned to use one of these vile things that caused such terrible agony to a slave.

"Thanks." He told the guard. "I think we're finished here - at least for the time being."

"Follow me!", Rob ordered, and still not understanding what the fuck was happening, I had no option but to comply. It was odd to be going through the "free" part of the house again - my toes wanted to curl into the luxurious pile of the carpets, but Rob bounded ahead and up the grand staircase and along the bedroom corridor to his suite. We went inside, and he shut the door.

"Now, Steve, I can undo the fastenings and you can put your arms down.... You're not gong to do anything stupid, are you? I do have the guard's prod....." He smiled faintly as he said this, but I couldn't tell whether it was an evil smile, or a faintly sardonic one.

"Rob, what the fuck is going on?", I spluttered, doing my best to keep my anger and indignation under control.

He looked at me, almost sternly. "Look, Steve, you've got to learn! I'm your owner now, and you've just got to be respectful and behave properly...."

"The fuck I will, you young pup! You're only here because of me, you'd be dead by now...."

"Listen, Steve!", there was something in his tone, some note of pleading, rather than of warning, that caused me to stop shouting. "Steve, my dad thinks you're a rebel, OK? And whilst he thinks that, your balls, if not your life, is at risk, OK? Don't forget that he was about to geld you, and he could still call the National Guard and have you taken off and crucified - it's a lot easier now to execute slaves, as the whole country's so jittery after the revolt, and they're determined it's not going to happen again.

He'd only have to swear to the local judge that he had concerns about your rebellious nature, and that would be it. So you've got to behave, Steve, you've got to be properly subservient, to be respectful, to act like a proper slave - to convince my dad that you're 'safe' again. And he'll expect me to 'train' you - I bet even now he's grilling that guard to see what happened when he went off to call New York - your outburst won't have done you any good, Steve - but at least by taking the cane to you he'll know that I'm serious about the training!"

"Yes - about that fucking cane.... And that prod....."

"You don't listen, do you, Steve? You're so intent on pursuing your own agenda that you don't listen properly to what anyone else says. I've told you that I've got to be seen to 'train' you - and if it means that I have to cane you again, or even prod you, to make it look realistic, then I won't hesitate to do so. It's in your own interests, Steve...."

"Will you shut the fuck up about what's in my best interests? I'm a man, Rob, a lot older than you, and I've seen a lot more of the world. I know what's right for me..."

"There you go again!" As Rob said this, he slid the prod out of its sheath. "You don't listen, do you? Now, do you want a taste of this? I will, you know...."

I didn't know whether to believe him or not - I thought he was bluffing, and that he wouldn't really prod me. But with my hands cuffed behind my neck and standing there totally naked, I was vulnerable, very vulnerable. I hesitated for a moment, then stood there, looking at him.

"Kneel down!", he told me, and I hesitated - I mean, kneeling, in front of a seventeen year old - how humiliating is that?

"Steve, I ordered you to kneel down! You've got to obey me - if dad saw that hesitation, he'd order you whipped as it's a sign that you don't accept your status as a slave. Now, just do it, will you - I need to undo the fastenings to free your arms, and it's much easier to do that when you're kneeling! That's all - I want to free you, and yet you won't even do a simple thing like kneeling, to make it easier: those fastenings are fucking fiddley, and you're a tall guy...."

I wasn't sure if I trusted him, but I did want my hands free. So I knelt there as he worked at my collar, and finally undid the fastenings. I felt his fingers on my shoulders, though, and winced slightly as they probed at the sores where my collar chafed and rubbed.

"Fuck me, Steve! This collar's cut right into your skin...."

"They all do. Every slave on this place with one of these collars has sores like that. It's the norm."

"You can't be serious!"

"Why the fuck would I lie about something like that? Anyway, think about it: I reckon it's deliberate - you feel the weight of the collar all the time, but then it hurts you, too, and reminds you that you're a slave."

"Steve, I really do think you ought to try to speak properly - just put a 'sir' on the end of everything, will you? It's in your own interest, you know!"

"Sir, every slave on the place, sir, has painful sores where his fucking collar rubs, sir, because the owners, sir, can't be bothered to buy proper collars, sir, as they don't care if the slaves suffer, sir, as we're only animals, sir! Or they do it deliberately, sir, as they think, sir, that slaves need reminding, sir, through pain, sir, that they are under their owner's total control, sir!"

My voice was dripping with sarcasm, and I got to my feet now, and stood there in front of him, taller, stronger, and perfectly capable of beating him to a pulp before any guards could get there. He saw the angry look on my face and said "Steve, I know things are not perfect...."

"Not fucking perfect? Do you have any idea how much this collar actually hurts, and these cuffs?" I showed him the scars and weeping sores under my manacles, too.

"Steve, I know things are tough at the moment - but you've got to think about what dad and the other owners went through.... And all the experienced guards and overseers were killed, and the new guys drafted in just don't have the experience, and, frankly, they're not all that bright.... But we can get something done about the collars.... "

"And whilst you're at it, Rob, clear up all this 'misunderstanding' with your father! I want him to trust me again...."

Rob looked suddenly defeated and muttered "I'll think about it, Steve...."

"NO, Rob! What the fuck's wrong here? Why not just tell him?"

"Hey, Steve, wouldn't you like a bath, a proper bath, to get properly clean?"

"Rob, don't change the subject like that! I might be a slave, but I'm not a fucking idiot!"

"Look, Steve, things are kind of complicated. You need to trust me.... It will all be OK in the end. Just do as I say, and be properly loyal and respectful...."

I'd had enough! I grabbed his arm, and pushed my face close to his. "Will you tell me what the fuck is going on? "

Rob looked really miserable - yes ,that was it: miserable, rather than scared of me. "Steve, I said I'd make things right soon... Just hang in there, and behave - after all, you were a loyal slave once, dad always said you were the best personal trainer he'd ever had, so you cold do it again...."

"Tell me the truth now, Rob! Or else I'm going to beat the shit out of you....."

"Steve, you're hurting me.... Let go...."

"Not as much as I will hurt you, Rob! Now, tell me the truth, or I'll see if I can't persuade you to, with my fists....."

Rob gave a little sigh, and I thought I'd won. I hadn't really intended to hit him of course - I don't beat up kids - but sometimes you need the threat of a bit of violence to get the right result, don't you? I loosened my grip on him, and he stood there, then reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked a bit like a pager.

"Now, Steve, I'm sorry about this, but see this? Perhaps you don't know - this is a personal alarm - most free guys carry one now, after the revolt. If I press it, the guards will be in here quicker than you imagine, and then there'll be no saving you, Steve: a slave who's hurt an owner will be crucified."

"Rob....." I was lost for words. Surely he couldn't mean it?

"Don't say one more word, Steve! Just trust me, OK? Now, go and have a good long, hot bath and soak some of that grime out of you, then afterwards, we'll go and see what can be done about that collar.... And please, if we see my father ,or any of the guards, act like a respectful slave, OK?"

I was amazed. But was it worth me risking it? There was clearly something going on here, something I didn't understand. I didn't think he's press that alarm, or even prod me, but was it worth the risk? "Rob...."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve! You don't know what it cost me to come down and rescue you today. So cool it, OK?

Can't you just do as I ask? "

There was something about his manner that was at once sincere, and yet showed that he was deeply troubled. I hesitated for a few instants, and considered my options. But what choice did I have ,really? Rob was really the only game in town, and I suppose I had to trust him. So I nodded, faintly, and with as much dignity as I could, given the way my whole body was aching and painful, I walked into the bathroom.

God it was good to have a bath! A real bath, with warm water, and some of Rob's gel stuff to make bubbles and give it a heady tangy scent of pine. I lay there and luxuriated, adding more hot water from time to time, until my skin was all crinkled. I stroked my dick as I lay there as I was so relaxed ad it used to amuse me to see it sticking up out of the water, through the bubbles. I began to jerk off, slowly, soaping my dick to add sensation. My eyes closed as I worked away, and I was getting close to shooting when I heard Rob say "Some things haven't changed then, Steve...."

My eyes snapped open and I saw Rob standing there looking down at me. I was so fucking embarrassed - no, I was ashamed, I suppose, at being caught jerking off n the bath, as if I was a kid.

"Get the fuck out, Rob...."

"Oh come on, Steve: it's not as if I haven't seen that dick of yours erect, is it? And I've seen you jerking off, too, haven't I? I can remember a night when I was covered in cum...."

"Rob, there's some things a guy likes to do in private, if he can...."

Rob grinned, and turned and left. I started to stroke my dick again, but somehow the moment had passed and there was no real enthusiasm for it, so I stopped, and hauled myself out of the water. I felt so much better when I dried myself - I was sore and painful all over, of course, but it was good to have my ass clean at least. I poked around in the cabinets and found a razor, and had a good close shave - as a dray, they'd run clippers over us once a week, and although I suppose it looks "manly" to have stubble all the time, I actually prefer to be clean shaven. Finally, I wrapped a towel around me and walked back into the bedroom.

Rob was sitting at his PC, and he swivelled around to look at me.

"Hey, Steve, what's this? Are you getting all modest?" He was smiling as he gestured at the towel around me. I grinned too - after all, I'd been naked for so long now that it did seem a bit silly.

"I guess it was a reflex!, Rob. When I was in the marines and we'd been on a hard exercise, and we came back and got showered and really relaxed, we just naturally wrapped towels around us."

"It's OK by me, Steve, but, look, I told you you've got to act like a real slave, didn't I? Well, suppose my dad came in now, and saw you like that - he'd think you were getting 'uppity' and making like a free man - a slave in his owner's bedroom is usually naked, you know."

I shrugged, and let the towel fall to the floor. There was something vaguely unsettling and odd about revealing myself to him like that - it must be old habits, I thought. But my body was betraying me - having to strip like that was giving me an erection.

Rob smiled again. "That's one thing that hasn't changed, then, Steve - that dick of yours, always ready for action...."

He got up from the PC and came up to me and stood there; then, as if he was overcoming some terrible inhibition, he suddenly reached out and put one arm around me, and pulled his body close to mine. He reached down with his other hand and grabbed my dick, and stroked it, gently. I couldn't help it - my arms went around him and I held him, as I had for so many nights when we were sleeping rough. A little sob broke out from him.

"Hey, Rob, are you OK, what's the matter?"

"Oh Steve... It's all the shit in my life! And when I saw you, I thought of how you looked after me, and of how good your body felt...."

"All the shit in your life?" I must have sounded totally incredulous. "You have no idea what 'shit' is! How do you think I feel...."

"Steve, stop it, please. I'll do my best to make it up to you, honest I will, but for now..."

"For now, what, Rob? What the fuck's going on?"

He was almost sobbing now as he clung to me. "Please, Steve, let it rest, at least for now, will you, please?"

I felt so sorry for him that I just stood there, and ran my hand down his back in a gesture of comfort - through his shirt I could feel that he was a lot more muscular than he had been when we were on the run. He seemed to get himself under control, and let go of my dick and kind of straightened himself up, and we both stood there.

"Come on, Steve: Let's get something done about that collar, and those cuffs.... Here, put this on - if you're going to be my personal slave I don't want you going around the place naked: I want all the other guys to know that your body is reserved for me."

"It" was a slave tunic, of the kind that the cleaners and waiters and other house slaves - men and women both - wore. I expect you know the type of thing: one piece, sleeveless, made of white cotton. I pulled it over my head and stood there, and felt really embarrassed: it was really too small for me! I pointed this out to Rob, but he just shrugged: "House slaves aren't usually as tall and as well proportioned as you, Steve!"

"But I can't wear this - look, when I'm standing here, it barely comes down to cover my dick! And when I move - well, I'm all exposed...."

Rob just laughed. "You really are funny sometimes, Steve! You've spent months working totally naked, completely exposed to anyone who cared to take a look.

And now you're worried that someone might see a flash of your dick because your tunic is too short!"

"It's different...."

"Well I'll think about buying you a larger size, ut that's all there is for now. And I don't want you going around naked - if you're clothed, it will make people think you're more 'civilised' - and that's important in your rehabilitation."

I wondered why he said "think about buying" me a bigger size, rather than just saying he would. But perhaps I was getting too sensitive. "Couldn't I have some slave shorts, and a T, as I used to wear?"

"No, Steve. Now leave it, will you? I want you to look like a house slave, and that's the end of it. And what happened to the 'sir'? It really is important - you were always properly respectful to my father, even when you were training him and making him really sweat, and making him push himself. Why is it so hard to do it to me?"

"Because you're a kid...."

Rob glared at me. "I was a kid, Steve. But the revolt changed me. I'm a man, Steve. A proper man. And don't you ever forget it. I may not be as old as you, or as big and strong.... But don't ever forget that I'm a man, and I do all the things a man does. So you'd better learn to behave properly around me, to be respectful...."

He stopped, and a small smile broke out on his face. "...except here in the bedroom, in private.... I don't remember you ever being respectful when we were close together at night."

With that, he opened the bedroom door and went out, and I followed him.

End Of Part Eleven