Timmy-In-Chains 3 By Sid G
Captain Morgan's musings were interrupted when Hercules brought a cleaned but very beaten slave into Captain Morgan's office. The giant African-American hooked the boy's manacled hands then pushed a button raising the terrified boy until his feet were off the ground. Hercules looked at his boss who waved him out.
"I don't want to be disturbed until I ring for you."
"Yes sir," Hercules said and departed.
"Forgive me master. I don't know what," Roger started pleading.
"Silence boy or I'll think that you did do something wrong."
Roger shook his head furiously until Morgan put up his hand.
"I have some questions and you have no choice but to answer truthfully. How is your training going?"
"I've never experienced anything like it, never hurt like this, even after the car wreck. But I'm learning to be a good slave and a good slut and I know it's the life I was meant for."
"You will be able to be the leader in the barracks?"
A smile flickered across Roger's bruised face. "My trainer is not alone in beating me, but I don't think the other boys will try it again."
"So that's really what happened to Amos," the Captain said.
Another smile.
"You mentioned a car wreck. Tell me about it. Who was in it?"
"All four of us. We were driving home from a Met's game at Shea Stadium when Dad swerved into the next lane and we got smashed by a bus and the car rolled over one and a half times."
"He was drunk?"
"Of course, but he was so trapped and injured that by the time they tested him he was just under the limit."
"A shame he survived."
"If he'd died I wouldn't be here so it was for the best."
The Captain smiled and pressed a button that lowered Roger just enough so his feet were flat on the ground. "That's your reward, you can just as easily be punished."
"Thank you Master."
"How about you and Timmy?"
"I broke my left leg in two places and they had to remove my spleen. Lots of bruises. Doctor was amazed at how quickly I healed though, was out of the casts in three weeks."
"Excellent, and Timmy."
Roger shook his head. "He'd been out on his feet on the way back to the car so Dad threw him over his shoulder and then into the backseat without strapping him in. With the swerve he came toward me and when the bus hit he was thrown through one of the windows face first. I saw blood gush out and he had to be hit by the car as it rolled," Roger took a breath, "I knew he was dead."
"How long did it take him to recover?"
"They loaded me into the same ambulance he was in and he stood and hugged me when they put me in. There wasn't a scratch on him, not a bruise nothing."
"Amazing, can you remember other times he'd been hurt or cut and healed remarkably?"
"Is Timmy OK?"
"Because he's your brother I'll forgive you, but if you dare ask a question of me again you will be punished. Timmy is fine and doing remarkably well. Now answer the question boy."
"Thank you my Master. Last year, no the year before he fell out of the tree in the backyard. I heard the bone snap and he was screaming his fucking head off. I ran in, called 911 before calling Mom at work. We got to the hospital and they rolled him into the emergency room. Fifteen minutes later they called me and Mom in and started yelling at us for the prank until the EMS gal said she'd felt the break. There was no sign of a break, of any injury."
"You told me the truth about what you and your friends did to him last weekend?"
"Yes sir, and more after you'd gone."
Captain Morgan turned on the big monitor and Timmy stretched out on the rack quickly came into focus. "That's a live shot Roger. Since he started his training he's been whipped several times, including this morning with a bullwhip for forty-five minutes. Do you see a mark on him?"
"No Sir."
Captain Morgan hit a button on the phone.
"Yes sir," a voice Roger didn't recognize said.
"At the mark lower him till his ass is just grazing the bed then whip him with the cat for a half hour before releasing him."
"Sir, if I may."
"I know what you're feeling, but this must be done," the Captain said and stabbed the button.
Minutes later a large white man in his twenties appeared and followed the Captain's orders.
"That's your brother's trainer, one of the best in the business. Watch."
Master and slave watched. The slave in awe as the young boy took the punishment. The older brother unnerved seeing the result of his actions. But unable to move his eyes away, even after Timmy passed out.
When the whipping ended Morgan turned the monitor off. "I will be with him tonight and he will suffer even more. I will cut him deeply with a knife and by the time you see him in the morning there won't be a mark on him. Do you agree? The truth."
"I'm sure you're right Master."
Morgan pushed another button on the phone.
"Yes Sir," Hercules said.
"I'm ready to go home and we're bringing Roger with us. You and Dave can have some fun."
"Yes Sir, I'll be right there."
Timmy stood where he'd been left. Free to move around the dungeon but knowing better. From the other side of the room he heard a door open then footsteps before Captain Morgan finally came into view. Unlike the first times they'd met his master was dressed in tight fitting denim shorts and an open light denim short-sleeve shirt. As he approached Timmy saw Morgan's erection straining his shorts then his eyes moved up to his muscular arms and realized that he was in for a lot of torment even if Captain Morgan never took him near a machine. And he wanted the man to hurt him, abuse him, torture him and most of all fuck him.
"Your trainer has given glowing reports of your training," Morgan said and punched Timmy in the stomach.
"Thank you sir."
"He said you have special talents as a slave," a kick in the balls and Timmy sagged to his knees.
"Even Egor and Roger seem impressed," a knee to the head and Timmy sprawled face downward on the floor.
"And so is your master," a kick to the head sent Timmy into unconsciousness.
When the young slave woke he hung spread-eagled in the center of the room. Every inch of his body exposed to his master's whim. What he felt wasn't pain but hands gently feeling every inch of his body that a finger could touch.
Including those most private areas. Well private for a free person at any rate.
Timmy sighed.
"Ah, you're awake. We can begin. You are being tested my young slave and how you do will close some doors for you and open others. More questions will arise than will be answered."
Timmy listened to his master but it didn't make sense. If he failed would he be kicked out on the street? He had to be good enough to be a slave whore.
"You have quite a remarkable body, so smooth and fine. Not a mark on it. How is that possible my boy? Are you an alien or some kind of mutant?"
Morgan left the confused boy and walked to a stand and picked up a cane and showed it to Timmy. The twelve-year-old gasped. Metal spikes ranging from an eighth to a full inch lined the barrel.
Timmy watched his master step back, bring the cane back like a baseball bat and swing it full force into his chest. The force of the blow knocked his wind out and embedded the spikes into his skin. Morgan had to yank it to get it out.
Timmy screamed.
Captain Morgan smiled.
Then hit him again and again. Slowly covering every inch of Timmy's body except his eyes. Blood flowed freely.
Morgan finally dropped the cane and got a chain and wrapped it tight around the boy's cock and nuts, then hung a five-pound weight on it.
This was followed by a twelve-inch by six-inch vibrating studded dildo shoved up his ass, while it was vibrating.
"Comfortable, good," Morgan laughed, "don't go anywhere cause I'll be right back with another toy."
Morgan's eyes went wide when Timmy nodded his obedience. He walked around to the hanging slave's back and looked closely. Some of the shallow cuts had almost disappeared without a trace.
Timmy tried tracing his actions and words from the time his master picked him and his brother up. What action put his future as a slave-whore in doubt?
A click and a motor starting up broke his concentration. Seconds later he realized he was on a vertical rack and the chains around his wrists and ankles were stretching his twelve-year-old body.
The bat crack on his ass forced the vibrating dildo further and further up his anus, past the prostate and into his intestines.
The pain in his muscles distracted him every muscle and bone stretched to its limits. Timmy wanted to cry out, scream, beg his master to turn it off.
But didn't. If he'd displeased his master, or even if it was just for fun, if his master wanted to tear him apart he accepted it as his place.
Special sensors in the room turned off the motors moments before the first muscle and ligaments would have torn free from the bone.
Morgan dropped the bat and rammed a plug well inside his slave's ass so the dildo wouldn't slip out. Then he slipped a hood over Timmy's head and tightened it. Leaving the boy, blind and deaf but with plenty of air, though the boy didn't know it. The hood was made of soundproofing material so the Captain wouldn't hear the boy's screams, not that they would have bothered him a bit.
The slave master sat on a table, pulled his cock out and flicked a switch. Six mechanical whips pelted every inch of the slave. Four bullwhips plus two cats took their turns. One cat attacked his face and neck. The other his cock and balls.
After five minutes Morgan turned the intensity up followed by a speed increase five minutes later. Then repeated the sequence twice more until both where on ten.
At the beginning Timmy struggled to stay still but that was impossible. Not knowing his master couldn't hear him he bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood just as a blow hit the spot.
Periodically he screamed but never begged. Eventually he gave in and passed out. His body kept reacting so it took a while for Morgan to notice. He hit the kill switch and the whips stopped and withdrew. Morgan pushed himself off the table and led by his ranging, leaking hard-on walked over, checked the boy's pulse and took the hood off.
After checking the knifes' sharpness he walked out of the room.
Down the hall Roger waited in a smaller dungeon. The fourteen-year-old rode from the boy-slave club in lower Manhattan to his master's mansion in the limo's trunk and by the time Hercules pulled him out his master was out of sight. A flick of one big black finger and Roger followed the man. His only thoughts were not to fall and embarrass his trainer or his master.
And Timmy was somewhere inside.
Once inside the dungeon Hercules locked him in a wooden stock. Roger's head and wrists were immobilized and Hercules put leg irons on each ankle before disappearing.
Sometime later Hercules returned with the young white man Roger had seen on the monitor in his master's office.
"Slave, this is your brother's trainer."
"Good evening sir."
The man took one step and delivered a hard slap to Roger's face. "Nobody gave you permission to talk boy. You've got a long way to go before you're half the slave your little brother is."
Roger hung his head. Hercules and Dave lowered the stock's crossbar forcing Roger to bend and stick his naked ass out.
"We're going to fuck your worthless boy pussy, but first you've got a new toy to play with.
Roger smiled.
"You're as bad as your baby bro. He just loves being tortured," Dave said.
Roger sobbed and raised his hand.
"You want to know how he is?" Dave asked.
Hercules' big paw stopped Roger's nod and made it a shake. "What you really want to know you piece of white trash is when your torture's starting."
Roger smiled and nodded vigorously.
The two masters laughed.
"Well, when I left him in shackles in our master's dungeon he was fine. But that was a while ago," Dave shrugged, "to answer your other question."
Dave jabbed a button and Captain Morgan's Enhanced Spanking Machine sprang into action. The first blow followed the basic model, right across both cheeks with a paddle. The next four followed the next model with several other paddles set to attack ass and thighs from all angles. At the end of the first five Roger's firm butt shone pink.
The sixth blow was the Captain's special addition. After a pause a board popped up from between Roger's spread legs and whacked his exposed cock and balls with a carved out piece of granite.
"That's your first taste," Hercules said as he adjusted some knobs. "The full session will be at least thirty minutes and you won't be able to guess when or where the next hit will land. But then it won't be long before you don't care."
Roger nodded and his balls got smashed again. To honor his trainer and masters Roger did everything he could not to scream, cry and most of all beg for mercy.
He succeeded for a long time, mainly because that was the last hit on his cock. His ass and thighs went from pink to red to black and blue.
The slave cried and screamed for the last ten minutes but he never begged.
"I'll go first," Hercules said as he placed his cock at Roger's rosebud."
"But you had him once," Dave said.
"Oh, all right. Why does the black guy always get sloppy seconds? Just don't stretch him to badly with that itty-bitty thing of yours."
"You mean this?" Dave said as he rubbed the head of his eight hard inches on Roger's lips. He let the boy lick the head for a couple of minutes before taking Hercules' place.
Without word or warning Dave thrust one hard stroke until his pubic hair was resting on the slave's cheeks. He immediately started a long slow fuck. Each thrust in lifted Roger's bound feet off the platform.
The tool sliding back and forth on his prostate soon had the boy hard and leaking. When Roger realized that he panicked because he didn't have permission to cum. Fortunately his fright killed the erection. Slowly it returned, harder than he'd ever been.
"You have permission to cum boy, as often as your puny body can," Hercules said.
Roger sighed, smiled and shot his first load all over the floor. He never lost his erection and when Dave finally filled his innards he came again.
Hercules used Dave's cum to ease his ten hard thick inches into the moaning slave. No boy, not even the most experienced slut could take the monster tool hard, fast and dry. The real reason Dave always went first.
Like his lover the big black man took his time screwing the slave who was clearly enjoying every second. Didn't even flinch when he dug his coarse pubic hair into the slave's still red-hot cheeks.
Roger didn't believe how big the cock inside him was. Nor how good it made him feel. How hard it made him. How close he was to coming for a third time. All without anyone touching his prick.
As Roger shot the load he screamed, clenched his ass muscles around Hercules's throbbing tool and brought the fully inserted man over the brink.
Meanwhile back in Captain Morgan's dungeon Timmy stirred and sensors beeped in Morgan's office while he watched goings on at his clubs on secure closed-circuit monitors. A VCR attached to each one. A glance revealed Timmy looking around. He zoomed the camera in and saw most of the marks were gone. So only three steps left, and the third scared even him.
The final test to prove or disprove if Timmy was indeed the one. A slave with talents a master might kill to possess.
And he knew at least one who would try.
As the slave owner entered the room he anticipated the first part to be the most pleasurable for both him and the youngster. Neither would get any pleasure from the second, while the boy might not mind he wouldn't like it.
Morgan knew neither would like the third.
Timmy heard the door open and watched his master, the owner of his body and soul, approach. He called upon his waning strength to straighten up in his hanging rack. Every muscle and joint ached and he knew another notch meant serious injury.
But the only thing concerning him as his master undressed was could he please his master in whatever came next.
Once naked Morgan ran his hands over the remarkably smooth skin. How many males had he tortured or seen used? Couldn't remember. He knew of hundreds who'd endured a quarter of what this small boy had and been scared for life. More, including grown and experienced men who'd broken emotionally and physically with less than half.
Without being psychic or asking Morgan knew the only thing on the boy's mind was pleasing his master.
A man who ranked among the greatest trainers and slave owners in the eastern United States slowly reduced the pressure on his newest slave's arms and legs before letting Timmy hit the floor. Instantly the boy got on his hands and knees and looked up like a dog waiting for his master's signal. Morgan scratched behind his ears and Timmy sighed at the small sign of approval.
He followed his owner through the dungeon, not flinching at the scarier pieces of equipment he'd never seen or experienced. When his master stopped Timmy stopped at healing position and sat on his haunches.
"Up you go boy, get on the table and lay flat on your back," the Captain said.
Timmy did it so fast he didn't notice the nails until his ass landed on them. As he lay back he looked around for something that could come down on him and press him onto the nails like the iron maiden but didn't.
Morgan's yanking his heels up and thrusting his cock into Timmy's rosebud refocused the boy's attention. "Son, there are two more tests after this one. I know we could go directly to the last but I don't think either one of us wants to skip this one."
Timmy felt the Captain continue pressing through his sphincter and smiled as he ignored the nails digging into and dragging through his back. Sighed when he felt his master's pubic hair rub against his tenderized butt. Morgan slowly stroked and watched the boy's blood drip between the nails. As he listened to skin tear he felt tears on his cheek and wondered what was happening to him. He'd never felt this way about a slave. Never called one `son' even to make a badly injured slave feel better.
He picked up the pace, torn between wanting to make it last and make the worthless piece of trash suffer and getting it over quickly and let the special boy he was making love to off the bed of nails quickly.
Morgan pounded the slave's ass, faster and harder. He felt his cock grow and throb as the boy screamed in lust and pain. The master looked into the slave's eyes and saw love, lust, pain and trust. He reached over and caressed the boy's face and filled his ass with his seed.
"Did I pass the test Master?" Timmy said.
"Yes my boy, you know you passed it. Now can you get up or do you need help?"
Timmy gritted his teeth and pushed himself off the bed of nails. Ignoring the further ripping of skin and flow of blood. He knelt in front of his master.
"Stand and walk behind me slave. You've earned the right to be a boy-slave not a dog."
A smile bigger and prouder than any that ever crossed Timmy's face appeared as he stood up straight. The pain that permeated from his neck to ravaged asshole disappeared.
When they reached the regular rack Timmy jumped up and got into position. "Is this the second test?"
"This is where it's going to take place," Morgan said as he attached to the restraints. "You're going to spend the night stretched tighter than you've ever been and with a kicker attached. In the morning there'll be a surprise and the final test."
Timmy nodded and waited as the Captain pushed the button that started stretching the young slave. He turned a knob so the sensors would stop the machine three notches past normal. Further to six.
When the machine stopped moving Timmy was completely off the table. Morgan checked the restraints and turned away.
When he returned he held a large sharp hunting knife in his left hand. Wordlessly he cut the boy deeply above each breast, through and below the rib cage.
The look in the boy's eyes was puzzlement.
"Timmy, listen to me boy."
"Yes Master."
"In the morning I will explain everything to you. Just know if things go like I expect it will only prove that you are one special boy. I know you don't understand now but you have to trust me."
"I do my Master."
Captain Morgan kissed Timmy's forehead and walked out.
After he regained his composure Morgan walked down the hall and into the second dungeon. Hercules and Dave were whipping Roger who was now hanging from the rafters. Feet nowhere near the ground.
"Let him down and release him," Morgan said softly and was instantly obeyed.
Morgan pointed to his feet and Roger crawled over and kissed the foot.
"Boy, if things go well tonight we are one test away from a miracle. And you are going to be part of that miracle. Now, Hercules is going to lock you in here for the night unchained. Don't do anything stupid and get a good night's sleep."
"Sir?" Hercules said.
"Do as I say. We are so close, so damn close that it scares me. This one's going to go through enough in the morning so let him have a good nights sleep."
Morgan turned and walked out the door.
Dave entered the Captain's dungeon the next morning carrying a dog dish full of food and two bottles of Gatorade. After placing Timmy's first meal in almost a day on the floor he walked over to the rack. Once again he shook his head in amazement, there wasn't a mark on the boy, not a sign of a scar. Shock when he realized the settings. Stretched out as far as if not further than the most experienced slaves the twelve-year-old was sleeping without an inch of his body touching the table. Dave reached out and shook the boy's shoulder.
Timmy came wide awake, looked around and saw his trainer.
"Sir."
"It's morning and I've brought you something to eat. I've got to let you down slowly though, too fast and I will injure you."
Timmy nodded and sighed as the first pressure came off his shoulders, hips and knees. He felt exhausted despite knowing he'd slept.
"Sir, am I healed?"
"Haven't seen your back but not a mark on your chest from where our master cut you. You're an amazing boy."
"Thank you Sir. Master hinted at something last night. Another test, something special. Do you know what he was talking about?"
"It's not my place to say anything. He is as much my master as yours. Nor is it our place to expect him to say anything before he is ready," the trainer said.
"I understand Sir," Timmy said and moaned as his rear finally touched the table. Ten minutes later the trainer helped the slave boy off the rack and led him over to the food. It took twenty for the boy to carefully eat and drink everything so he wouldn't throw up like Egor had.
"May I use the bathroom Sir?"
Dave realized the expected mess hadn't been on the rack. Somehow, no forget somehow he realized. This boy was special. He motioned Timmy to stand and led him to a small bathroom in the corner and let him have some rare privacy.
When Timmy emerged Dave led him to the center of the room where the hanging rack had been. Almost immediately Captain Morgan entered followed by Roger in shackles and then Hercules. Both boys successfully fought the urge to run to the other. Just glad to see each other was all right.
Morgan walked over to Timmy and examined the boy. "If I hadn't done it myself, if I hadn't seen the blood and cuts with my own eyes."
"How are you boy? Strength ok?" Morgan asked.
"Fine Master," Timmy said.
"Is that the truth? You had a hard night."
"Yes Sir."
"Sir, when I arrived to feed the slave per your instructions he was sleeping soundly," Dave said.
Morgan nodded and walked over to the table. He looked at the bloody knife from the night before and picked up its twin. Slowly he walked over to Roger then quickly slashed his chest before stabbing him in the stomach.
Roger screamed as blood poured from him. When Morgan nodded Hercules released his grip and the boy fell to the ground writhing in pain.
"Why Master?" Timmy said.
"This is your final test. Heal your brother."
Timmy walked over and knelt next to Roger. "You promised never to tell."
"I swear I didn't. I told our master about the accident and your recovery, but that's it. I'm sorry Timmy. But I need you to do it again."
"It's ok," Timmy said and sighed, laying Roger on the floor.
Timmy put one hand on the stomach wound and the other over his own heart then closed his eyes. While Timmy and the three men remained silent Roger continued to moan and writhe in pain. Pain which appeared to worsen rather than vanish.
"The blood's stopped," Hercules gasped and Morgan slapped him without turning an inch. But the big black man was right.
Several minutes later Timmy moved the hand from the stab wound, no from where the stab wound had been for no mark remained. He slowly moved his hand over the deep chest slashes. With the first touch the blood stopped, the second and third healed them. The fourth and final removed all marks.
Timmy continued in silence removing the other marks from Roger's face and body. His last step was to take hold of each shackle and gently pry it open, freeing his big brother.
Roger took Timmy in his arms and they both cried. Morgan knelt besides the boys, put an arm around each and brought them close to him.
"Master, I know it is not my place to ask but you said that if I passed the tests you would tell me what this is all about."
"Normally I'd string you back up and have Hercules and Dave spend the morning whipping you for that, but you've earned it and more than that you're entitled. It's just that I've waited over forty years to meet you and there are older masters who are still waiting to meet someone like you. Hercules, bring sodas for all of us, and when you return I'll begin. Dave, bring Egor."
"Timmy, Roger," Morgan began as soon as they were alone, "when I'm finished you have the choice to remain with me as slaves or free men or to leave my home and return to your parents or wherever you choose. But I will be honest, whether as slaves or free men you will be better off and safer under my care. And no questions or interruptions until I'm finish. Ok?"
Timmy turned to his older brother.
"We will listen master and then make our decision together. Can I ask one question while we're waiting?" Roger said.
"Yes."
"This means that our days as whores are over?"
Morgan nodded as the doors reopened and Hercules entered through one and Dave and Egor through the other. Timmy saw Egor's hands were handcuffed behind his back. He brought his own wrists together, then apart. Morgan nodded and Dave removed them.
Hercules handed out cans of soda and joined the others on the floor where he could instantly lunge between Morgan and anybody else. Though he knew that that precaution was unnecessary.
Morgan finished one can and took a second from Hercules.
"I've stalled as long as I can, it's now time to explain. As you can well imagine I'm not the only slave master in the world, nor the only one specializing in boys. There are two others in Manhattan alone. This is an old and proud tradition. Roger, your trainer is the tenth in his family to be a master and he's training his adopted son to be the eleventh. In parts of the world there are groups hundreds of years old.
"We are all connected in one way or another. We trade slaves and if another's customer arrives at my door with the proper sign I welcome him right away.
"As is normal with a community if you will that has lasted so long various traditions and legends arise. One tradition is to release our slaves on their eighteenth birthday, or if they choose make other arrangements for them. One of the legends is that of the chosen one. A very special slave."
Timmy squirmed as the Captain looked at him. Timmy took a sip of his soda and moved closer to Roger, taking his older brother's hand.
"The boy is said to appear every generation or every century depending on which version. The first criterion is that he's young and is brought into the world of bondage and torture suddenly and quickly. Roger took care of that last Friday. That's right, it hasn't even been a week yet.
"The second is the boy is a natural slave. Not just submissive but willingly so. He knows that slavery and being bound and tortured is his place in the world and wants to live in our world. You've certainly proved that Timmy."
Timmy smiled and nodded.
"Actually in many ways you met those qualifications too Roger. Except you also like to be in charge. Even now you're looking after your little brother. Even though you were willing to sell him to me and walk away."
The smile on Roger's face vanished, replaced by sobbing.
Timmy took his brother's face in his hands and kissed him on the lips. "Brother, you told me why you did everything and it's come true. I'm far better off than staying with father. If he'd ever realized my healing abilities he'd have sold me in other ways. Don't cry, don't feel bad." Timmy kissed him again.
"And that is the third sign. This innocent masochist can endure extreme physical abuse and then heal himself. No matter what is done to him, internal and external injuries heal almost instantly. Leaving no physical or emotional scars. Your trainer can permanently scar a grown man with one flick of a bullwhip and yet you show no sign of forty-five minutes of hard abuse with the whip less than a day ago. And you shot your load at the end of it. You fell asleep on the rack when most men would have screamed the night away.
"And the final test is healing someone else."
Egor crawled over to Morgan. "Slave 2 can heal the scar on my back?"
"May I Master?" Timmy said.
"It's an old scar slave 2, from when I was first taken to the orphanage. They burned their brand into me."
Morgan nodded and Timmy motioned Egor over. He examined his friends back, traced the brand and some other old marks. He put one hand on the brand and the other on his own heart. Minutes later Egor started crying and Roger cradled the Russian's head.
Ten, fifteen minutes later Egor's breathing returned to normal and he sat up. He reached around and found smooth skin where the brand had been.
"It's a miracle." He moved over to the Captain. "See Master, my old owner's mark is gone. I belong only to you now."
"Well done Timmy, you are truly the chosen one," Morgan said.
"This feels so weird. A week ago I knew I was gay with some special healing powers Roger and I never ever talked about. Now to find my true place in life and that I was predicted in a legend. Too much," Timmy said.
"Too cool," Roger said.
Morgan looked at the three boys and knew they'd never leave his care. He'd known there was something special about them from the first time he'd met each one. While he cared for all the slaves in his care these were special.
Timmy leaned over and whispered in his big brother's ear for a minute. When he was done Roger closed his eyes for a moment then nodded.
"We will stay as slaves for that is what we are meant to be Master. There is no doubt in Timmy or my mind and heart that this is where we are loved and meant to be."
"I'm glad. But there is something more you want to know."
The brothers nodded.
"You will live here and be educated and continue your training as slaves. That includes you Egor. Timmy, when I need you to heal a slave I will either bring him here or bring you to him. But that will only be for serious injuries, most customers like their slaves to look experienced. I have to reveal your existence to fellow masters and some may ask to test you for themselves."
Timmy nodded, "I understand and will comply my Master."
Morgan smiled back, "but boy, that's the rub, that's the rub."
The End? To be continued?
Well they will be back, some place, some time.