You Can't Be Friends With a Slave

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part seven

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

FRIENDS ALWAYS THINK OF THEIR BUDDY'S BEST INTERESTS

As I burst through the door I saw Billy-Joe slumped on a sofa in front of the TV, a beer in his hand. The commentary showed that he was watching a soccer game on pay TV, from somewhere in Europe. He had a baggy T shirt and loose boxer shorts on. He didn't seem to have shaved that day, and his hair was long and lank. My second glance took in another guy - obviously a slave as he was bare from the waist up, and was collared. Unlike Billy-Joe who, looked like a slob, the slave, who can't have been much more than seventeen, seemed neat and elegant: his hair was cropped short like mine and he was cleanly shaven and perhaps had been lightly oiled as he shone with health. All he wore was a small scrap of white cloth that was suspended from a thin chain around his waist just to conceal his genitals - well, conceal them whilst he was standing perfectly still: I suspected that the slightest movement would cause them to swing excitingly in and out of view.

"Hey, Steve! I wasn't expecting you until later!"

"Billy-Joe, you had them 'prepare' me for you. I'd have been standing outside your door for fuck knows how long if I hadn't come in. You've ignored me for weeks. What the fuck's going on....?"

"Hey, Steve, calm down. It's not seemly to shout and swear like that, you know. If the Colonel or Straughan heard, you'd be in trouble." His voice changed, as he snapped out to Charlie and Coon who were peering nervously into the room, "And you two, get in here, and shut that door." Charlie and Coon sidled in, and stood against the far wall, in "rest" mode, as if they were trying to lose themselves and not raise Billy-Joe's anger any further.

"Now, come and sit down by the side of your old buddy, and tell me what's the real problem..." Billy-Joe chugged at his beer as he said this. I moved over, and responded "Aren't you going to even offer me a beer?"

"It's not good for you, you know, Steve. Slaves can't usually take free men's food..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Billy-Joe! You and I have drunk more beers together than most people have hot dinners......"

"Well, don't blame me tomorrow!" Turning to the young slave who'd been standing there motionless, he said "Grunt, get another beer, and bring it in."

The young lad turned and strode out, and I couldn't help but notice how perfect he was - broad shouldered tapering to a narrow waist from which a superb bubble-butt thrust itself onto the world, leading down to long, well-proportioned and quite muscular legs. The most astonishing thing about him was the fact that his skin was pure white - there wasn't a trace of suntan on him, and the slightly oiled effect gave him the appearance almost of one of those alabaster statues. The big "S" on his butt stood out in especially stark contrast against the pure white of his flesh. I hadn't seen him around in the slave quarters, and so I assumed he must be one of the indoor slaves.

"Who's that, Billy-Joe?" In spite of my anger, I couldn't contain my interest and just had to ask.

"Oh that, it's my valet and general servant. I had another one when you were here last - a big black, but he turned out to be, well.... unsatisfactory. So I dispensed with him, and bought this one from a specialist breeder. I've had him ever since his sixteenth birthday when he was first sold, so no other master has had him, and I've been able to mould him to my exact requirements. I'm becoming more and more convinced, you know, that that's the way to go - they come complete with the proper attitude, their bodies are in good shape, and you can have a good pick of types: this one is a kind of 'general purpose', but they do tall ones, neat little trim ones, big bruisers.... Do you like him, incidentally? He's a redhead, a bright copper red as you'll see from the residue I keep on his head, and the little strip I allow him above his dick. But otherwise he's shaved smooth, and as he isn't allowed out into the sun he has that fantastic pure white colouring that only redheads achieve but which you see only rarely: they follow the fashion for the outdoor life, and normally their skin is an angry red, or freckled, of course..."

I didn't need this little homily on the selection and training of slaves, but at this moment Billy-Joe was cut short as the slave came back with a beer: it had never looked more appealing to me, as I hadn't had anything like this for so long. The green bottle was running with condensation, and I could see that faint "steam" rising out of the neck. My mouth filled with saliva. Billy-Joe gestured towards me, and the slave boy dropped to his knees in front of me, and held the bottle up above his head respectfully, waiting for me to take it. "See", Billy-Joe said, "perfectly trained, don't you think? But, Steve, I'd really advise against drinking that beer."

Well, what do you say? I decided not to go down that route of discussing slave training, and instead said "Billy-Joe.. Can you at least get me something decent to wear? These shorts... They're so small, so tight, and my dick's about to burst out of the fly...."

"Oh, don't be so silly, Steve. You're perfectly decent..."

"No I'm not! It's disgusting to keep a guy like this..."

Billy-Joe didn't immediately answer, but looked at Charlie and Coon and shouted "out of those shorts!", then, turning slightly, he tugged at the strip of cloth in front of his valet and pulled it away out of the chain, so that the lad was totally naked. I couldn't help noticing that his dick was disproportionately large for his still-young body, and he had big balls as well.

"There, Steve. Now those three are naked, you look perfectly respectable in comparison. So come and sit down, drink your beer, watch this exciting match, and tell me all about it."

I sat next to him on the sofa, feeling the soft leather cool against my naked back and thighs, and said "Billy-Joe, you told me you'd take care of me... I was going to live in your apartment..."

"Yes, Steve, but when I thought it through, it didn't make much sense. I only have a tiny place, you know, as I like to be right at the heart of things."

"No smaller than that room we shared at college, I bet..."

"No, it's a lot bigger. But then I have different needs now, friends to entertain.... You know how awkward it was when you needed our college room to shag some woman in, and I had to go out... Well, I could hardly have you waiting in the corridor whilst I fucked now, could I? And in the city you're not allowed in the parks without your owner, and you have to walk in the gutter, and the only place you can really work out is the special slave training facility right downtown - vile place: someone took me to see it one day... all those naked slaves sweating away in such close confinement. No, much better to be here, on the estate, in the country, in the fresh air..."

"Well, OK, but why am I in the slave quarters, and not here in the house as your guest?"

"That's down to you, Steve! I had planned to let you use this room and dressing room, bedroom and bathroom when I'm not here - you could bunk down in the dressing room when I came down for the weekend - but the Colonel won't have it. You see Chantelle's parents are friend s of the Colonel's, and at a tea party one Sunday the Colonel got to hear about how some brute of a man had forced his intentions on the lady. And when I was telling him about you, he put two and two together... and said he wasn't going to have a rapist in his house."

"But surely you told him that Chantelle was lying...?"

"Hey, Steve, you forget you're in the south now! The Colonel's a gentlemen, and ladies don't lie to gentlemen. And if I had suggested that she had, the Colonel would not have believed me. I didn't want to push it, as it's only due to of his generosity and his remembering that you had been a gust here and that a gentlemen still has some obligations to his former guests, that he relented and let you stay at all. Think of the alternative... You couldn't stay in my city apartment, and if you hadn't been allowed to stay here, there would have been no alternative but to sell you! That wouldn't have been very good, would it?"

"But Billy-Joe... The branding, 'skinning me..."

"Hey, Steve, come on, be reasonable, old man! Straughan was only doing his job, as best he knows how. When a slave arrives here, he's always branded and 'skinned if he's not already been cut. He was just following orders. He does a hard job, you know - all the Colonel's seventy slaves to control with only a few guards, the administration of the house and estate.... Ease up on him, will you?"

"Billy-Joe! It's easy enough for you to say that. It's not your body that's been burned, your dick that's been cut..."

"OK, Steve, I admit we might have done that better, but he's busy, and I'm busy, and we just failed to communicate properly. But there's no real harm done, is there? Some guys think branding and tattooing is really sexy, you know - I bet when you're free again a lot of people will find you really erotic when you undress, as it's not very often you get branded and tattooed guys these days in case they're taken for slaves. And as for the 'skinning, well, actually, I think you look a lot better that way...."

As he said this, Billy-Joe leaned over and reached into the open fly of my shorts, and started to feel for my dick.

"Cut that out!" I snapped, and grasped Billy-Joe's wrist, hard. Even before I'd done all this hard labour I'd been pretty strong, but now I could grip really hard and Billy-Joe almost yelped as I squeezed him.

"Steve, be careful! I'll make allowances this time, but if you ever do that to another man, you'll find yourself in serious trouble... If you lay a finger on Straughan, for example, he'll have you flayed. And I was only going to get your dick out and show you what a good job the doctor did - how it's now so much more prominent, there's no scarring or anything: we pay top dollar to that doctor to make sure he 'skins properly..."

"Billy-Joe, shut the fuck up, will you? I don't care how 'standard' it is here, and how many slaves, or free men for that matter, have it done: I used to like my 'skin. Jerking off just isn't the same..."

"Well there's not much we can do about it now anyway, is there? So why don't we try to put the past behind us, and move on? Let's be positive, let's just forget what's happened, and...."

"This is madness, Billy-Joe! You're trying to justify the unjustifiable. Look, why don't you just declare me to be free, let's forget this whole stupid thing, and I'll make a run across the border to Canada - they don't send slaves back, I understand, so even if Chantelle tries to enslave me again, I won't be here. How about we make it like a short vacation, as you drive me to the border, then declare me free and I'll cross...."

Billy-Joe looked shifty and uncomfortable for the first time in our conversation. "I'd like to do that, Steve, but something's come up that makes it impossible... Maybe in a year or so."

"What the fuck can have 'come up', Billy-Joe? It was only supposed to be until Chantelle got tired of pursuing me... And now you're taking about 'a year or so'.... Fuck me, Billy-Joe, it just isn't good enough.

I want out, and I want it now!"

"Sorry, Steve... But look, let me explain. The Colonel's been keeping me pretty short of money recently, as he wants me to settle down and stop living a 'dissolute life', as he calls it. He doesn't think I'm a proper southern gentleman, and he's trying to get me to change by making it hard for me to live the life I want with my friends by cutting off the cash. So when I needed a new car last month, I had to borrow to pay for it - and without a regular job, it's hard to get credit. I've got 'prospects', shall we say, for when the Colonel dies, but no ready money now. So I had to borrow from the bank, and they need collateral. And the only real collateral I've got is my ownership of you - once Straughan had got you made a permanent slave (another of his over-zealous activities, by the way, but one that worked out well for me at least) - you had a very high value. Think about it: college-educated, pure-bred white, twenty four years old, great body - there aren't a lot of slaves like you around, and the bank was prepared to lend me all the money I needed for my new Jaguar. So until I can pay them off, they've got kind of a mortgage on you, so I can't let you go free."

I was so astonished I couldn't even be angry. It sounded so unreal in one way, but so obvious in the way that Billy-Joe explained it, in another. "So you've raised money on me for a fucking new car....? Billy-Joe, I thought we were meant to be buddies..."

"We are, Steve, and it didn't seem a problem at the time. You know, I thought that you'd settle in as a slave, and that Chantelle would keep pressing for your enslavement, so that by the time I needed to pay the money off the Colonel would have made me his heir, or, at least, been reconciled to me... It's just that, right now, the timing's difficult, shall we say!"

"You can't use a buddy as something to raise money on, Billy-Joe! Sell the fucking car...."

"Steve, be reasonable! If I sell the car I won't get much for it as it's now 'used'. And with bank interest and everything, I still won't be able to pay of the bank. The Colonel, if he found out that I was going behind his back to lead what he thinks of as a 'dissolute life' certainly wouldn't lend me the money.

And then the bank would come after me, and they can do dreadful things to debtors now, you know: enslave them, for example! So you'll just have to stay a slave for a bit longer. So let's not argue about it, OK? It's a done deal, and there's no way out."

"Billy-Joe... Please.... I can't stand this..."

"Well, Steve, you don't have much choice, do you?" Billy-Joe's tone changed now. He was getting tired of this conversation, he looked bored, and he seemed more interested in the soccer match on the TV. "You're actually my slave, and until I let you go, that's what you'll remain. Now, let's think about making life as easy as possible for all of us."

I went to turn away in disgust, but it was Billy-Joe who now gripped my wrist. "Steve, that's the kind of thing I mean! Although you look like a slave, you don't act properly like a slave. A slave doesn't turn away from his owner, you know."

"Fuck you, Billy-Joe...! What you mean is 'let's try to make life as easy as possible for me, and fuck poor Steve'."

"I see what Straughan means now, Steve. He's always calling me and complaining that you haven't got the right attitude, that you're wilful, and disobedient, and can't do the simplest things like remain silent until spoken to. You're making life very difficult for him, you know, as the other slaves sense that rebellious streak in you. They know you're 'something special', and it makes them all uneasy. Straughan has been going on at me to let me have you treated like a proper slave, so that everyone knows exactly where you are: discipline's a big potential problem here, as the Colonel won't employ more guards, and you don't make life any easier for him."

"What do you mean, 'treated like a proper slave'? What the fuck else can yo do to me? I've been stripped, collared, branded, mutilated, fed that disgusting slave chow, and made to work harder than I've ever worked in my life, 'encouraged' by trustees and guards with those lashes.... What else can there possibly be?"

"Well, if you think about it, it's not all bad: you're looking great, you know. You always were in great shape, and now they've got you to put on that extra muscle... well, it suits you! Look...." Billy-Joe reached up and tried to get his finger between my skin and my collar. It felt almost obscenely warm, and I went to pull away from him. "See - when you were collared, this was all loose, and now the new muscle.... It looks good on you...."

I jerked away. "Billy-Joe, if I'd wanted more muscles, I could have gone to the gym...."

"It's not just that, Steve. I think you're better all over: less stressed. When we went out drinking after you came down here, I sometimes wondered if that desk job wasn't getting on top of you... all the worry, all the office politics... it isn't good for a man. A man needs to use his body, don't you think?"

"Anyway", he continued, "I know Straughan's really complaining about having to treat you just that bit differently. It's more work to have you locked up separately at night instead of using the slave dorms. And, as I said, it makes the other slaves unsure of your status, and that leads to general unease and discipline problems."

Actually, I had wondered why my fellows in the work gang didn't really treat me fully as "one of them". I'd put it down to the fact that they didn't like a white guy working alongside them, and showing them, incidentally, that I could out-work them. I think it kind of offended their sense of racial pride! But perhaps they did resent the special treatment I got, little though it was.

"Look, Steve, let's think about this logically, shall we? ", Billy-Joe went on. "I know you office types like to think through problems and look at alternate solutions, if there are any. Now, you've got to remain a slave for a bit longer, until I'm reconciled to the Colonel and I can pay the bank back, right? If there's any more trouble and the bank hears about it, they might foreclose on the loan, and seize you as the collateral. Then you'd be up there, naked on the auction block, and god knows where you'd end up! What is certain is that, having paid top dollar for you, there's no way a new owner would ever free you. Whereas I will, one day. Right?"

"I suppose so. But I don't like it.... If you'd thought of me, and not bought that fucking car...."

"It's not a question of likes or dislikes, Steve, but of harsh practical reality. And we can't change the past, can we? Now, since I have to keep you as a slave, and we've agreed that's the best thing for you, right...?" I nodded. "...then we have to think about where I'm going to keep you."

"As I've explained, you can't live in my city apartment as it's too small, and, anyway, you wouldn't like the slave life in the city. You can't live in the house here as the Colonel won't allow it, you being a rapist and everything..."

"I'm not a rapist, Billy-Joe..."

"Yes, you know that, and I accept your explanation. But the Colonel doesn't, so you can't live in the house. So that just leaves the slave quarters."

"I could live there, Billy-Joe, I suppose - give me a few things for that 'room' - a cage, actually - that I have: blankets, TV... that sort of stuff. And let me eat proper food..."

"No, Steve. That wouldn't work. As I've explained, Straughan is already complaining about your current treatment causing unrest. If I did that, he'd certainly go to the Colonel, who'd then tell me to take you away totally. And then I'd have no choice but to sell you... with the consequences I've already explained. So I think the only real solution is for you to be treated fully as a slave... To have the other slaves accept that you're a slave, just like them. Do you agree?"

I thought and thought. When Billy-Joe explained it like this, there really didn't seem to be any other way out, did there? Well, at least I couldn't think of any. Billy-Joe had a way of making things seem "obvious" - he'd done law at college, and had that lawyer's way about him that made any other course of action seem impossible. So, very reluctantly, I said "I suppose you're right... But it's only until you can free me, right? And what's involved? Just sleeping in the slave dorms - I already work alongside the others."

"Good, Steve. I knew you'd see sense! Yes, you'll be treated just like all the others, including sleeping in the slave dorms. You already do most of the physical stuff - and the work's OK, isn't it?"

"Well, I suppose so. And, as you say, it probably is doing me good... You're right, I do feel good in myself.... I sleep at night now, and never lie awake worrying... I'm too fucking tired! And I really like some of the other guys, and it will be good to have them accept me properly as part of the team..."

"Yes, Steve.... Good! Now, about that acceptance.... As you say, you've been publicly stripped, collared, branded as a slave and tattooed with your ID... So shall we just do the last step, then, and you can start over as a proper slave....?"

"What's that, then?" I was suspicious now, as Billy-Joe's tone had changed, and there had started to be a little glitter in his eyes.

"Well, you know, the final thing a new owner does to a slave he's just acquired... That's all that's missing, and the other slaves know it. We can do it right now, come on... Drop those shorts, and let's go into the bedroom..."

"What the fuck are you on about, Billy-Joe?"

"Hasn't anyone told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Well, that when a new owner acquires a slave, he fucks him ceremonially. It's really significant for the owner and the slave, as it shows that the slave accepts total obedience to the will of his owner. It's especially important for the newly-enslaved, as it really does mark the end of their old lives for them, when their cherry is taken. I've been looking forward to it, actually - I've always wondered what it would be like to go up your ass... I haven't had a cherry to take since I got young Grunt here - Straughan does all the estate slaves on the Colonel's behalf... In fact, have I told you, that's why he's called 'Grunt'?"

"No, you fucking well haven't told me... And cut out all this nonsense about you fucking me...."

"Steve, calm down! And don't interrupt me again: you've got to learn to think and act like a proper slave. Well, as I was saying, I bought young Grunt here straight from the farms. You're not allowed to even fondle them before their sixteenth birthday, of course, but I went along a week or two before and watched the fresh crop at play, and it was obvious that he was the right one for me. They delivered him to me on his birthday itself, so the slave started off his new life with me fucking him... I can't remember what his original name was, but we had one of them here already so I had to find a new name for him. He was so determined not to cry out in pain as I humped him that first time that he buried his head in the pillow and just grunted.. And there we were... Grunt! Still does it, don't you, boy?" Billy-Joe turned his head towards Grunt at that moment. "You like to show your appreciation of your owner's dick as it thrusts in and out, and you grunt away in time to it!"

As he spoke, Billy-Joe had been idly scratching the lad's head, and the young boy was clearly enjoying it.

He'd come to sit at Billy-Joe's feet as we talked, and seemed perfectly at ease with being naked. "So, Steve, let's go into the bedroom, I'll do the business, as they say, and then you'll be a proper slave... I wonder if you'll make more noise than young Grunt here did? Want to come and watch, boy, so you can tell me?"

The lad nodded eagerly at Billy-Joe, and Billy-Joe went to get to his feet. I pushed my big hand into the middle of his grungy T, and he flopped back onto the couch.

"No way, Billy-Joe! You're not going to fuck me! I'm not some sort of queer, I'm..."

"No one ever said you are, Steve - although a lot of guys get to enjoy dick up the ass after they've tried it the first time. No, you can just lie back and try to relax, and I'll make all the running. I've fucked lots of guys, you know, so I'm fully experienced...."

"No, Billy-Joe! You're not going to fuck me! No way!

I'm not taking dick, from you or anyone else! You can't treat me like this - I'm your buddy.. Buddies don't fuck...."

Billy-Joe's eyes blazed, and he got to his feet and stood over me. Probably shoving him like that hadn't been a good idea.

"Right, that's enough! I've had all I can take from you, Steve. I've tried to be reasonable, tried to make it as easy as I can for you, but you just won't see sense, will you? And I can see what Straughan means.: you do really need an adjustment to your attitude - and you're about to get one, as I am going to fuck you! And buddies do do it to their buddies, you know... it's just that guys like you, always out chasing pussy, sneer at them. Well, let's see how you feel after I've taken your cherry...."

"Fuck you...!" I was on my feet now, and I almost towered over him even though at one time I'd thought we were about the same height. I was sweating, of course, but my body was in such great shape compared to him - he really had gone to seed, and I could even see the start of a ring of flab around his gut as he stood there in the grungy T and absurdly baggy boxers.

"No way are you putting that vile dick of yours anywhere near my ass. And there's no way you can force me - look at you, you're disgusting - when we were on the team together you used to look after yourself, and now you've got a beer gut...." I poked at it, with my finger, contemptuously.

Billy-Joe grasped my finger, looked me in the eye and said, in an authoritative kind of way that I'd not heard him use before. "Steve, I'm really sorry about this. I thought we'd talk tonight, and you'd see reason. Then we'd go to bed, and we'd fool around a bit, explore each other, kiss, all the usual... Then I'd fuck you, gently, and afterwards, when we were lying together in that wonderful state you get after really great sex, we'd talk, and...."

He paused, and looked almost sad. "Anyway, you seem determined to be stupid and obstinate, but I've got to fuck you: I know how to behave properly as an owner, even if you don't behave properly as a slave.... yet."

"No, Billy-Joe..."

"YES, Steve! Someone's got to look after your best interests, if you won't do so yourself! If you're not accepted here as a proper slave, there's nowhere else to go, as we discussed. So I'd be forced to sell you - and then you'd never be free. And, in any case, your new owner would assert his rights and fuck you the moment he got you home. You'll be glad of this, one day, when you look back on it... You'll remember I kept my temper, rather than just having you taken out side and flogged, and that I didn't just wash my hands of you, but pressed on to keep my part of the bargain..."

"What fucking bargain? That you'd go up my ass..?"

"No, Steve, that I'd keep you as a voluntary slave. Well, we lost the 'voluntary' bit through no real fault of mine, but I am keeping you, and one day I will let you go free. Now, are we buddies again...?"

"Fuck no way! No buddy of mine would fuck me..."

"Yes, that's the sad part, really. I was looking forward to a really great time today - lying naked together afterwards, talking about college days, shooting the breeze generally... Still, I've heard a lot of my father's friends say over dinner, when they've been talking about little problems in their households, that you really can't be friends with a slave. Maybe we will be buddies again one day, Steve... But now...."

He looked over to where Charlie and Coon were standing - I remembered them again, and realised they hadn't moved a muscle, or spoken, since they'd assumed "rest". "You two - take this slave into my dressing room, and strap him to the punishment horse."

Charlie and Coon advanced on me, and I put up my fists to defend myself. But I knew it was useless - even in my new muscular state, there was no way I could win against both of them combined, and I could see from the way that the were moving that they were used to this, as they came at me from both sides and wouldn't impede each other. All I could succeed in doing was in hurting one or both of them, and it wasn't their fault - I knew they'd have to obey Billy-Joe or risk being punished themselves. So I just let my hands drop uselessly, and Charlie took one arm, and Coon the other, and they held me there in front of Billy-Joe.

"On his back, or his belly, sir?" Charlie asked quietly, his Jamaican accent soft in the now-still room.

"On his back. I want him to see me as I take his cherry." They went to move me, but Billy-Joe hadn't finished. Looking at me, he said "Do you see anything different about you and the other slaves in the room, Steve?"

I just ignored him, and he said "They're all naked - or, rather, they're properly clothed, in their collars. But you've got those shorts on. Grunt...."

The lad knelt in front of me and pulled my shorts down. Billy-Joe smiled. "Now you're four slaves together , wearing all you need in a master's presence. All nicely branded, all nicely 'skinned. Notice any other differences still, Steve?"

I ignored him again. "No, I suppose this is the difference you can't see - they've all accepted their status, and have all taken an owner's dick. Unless we had you all bend over and looked very hard, we wouldn't be able to tell who had the virgin ass, and who had had his cherry taken. But we could probably tell from their attitude. Not that it matters, as you'll soon be all the same anyway!"

He signalled to Charlie and Coon, and they moved me off through the door into Billy-Joe's dressing room.

End Of Part Seven

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part eight

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

CHERRY PICKING TIME

I'd been in Billy-Joe's dressing room before when staying at the house. It was a nice room, comfortable and warm. One side was lined with the doors of the closets where Billy-Joe kept his enormous collection of suits, slacks, shirts, pullovers and stuff: I'd thought at the time that he needed a valet just to keep it all in order! The other door held the doors to his bathroom and bedroom, the third was almost entirely covered in a mirror, and the fourth was lined with glass-fronted shelves, drawers, and special fitments to hold Billy-Joe's enormous stock of formal shoes, sneakers, boots, and stuff. Everything was exquisitely fitted, and all the wood was fine old mahogany that was kept lovingly polished. The room spoke of tradition, elegance, wealth, and that special southern way of life.

He had two comfortable armchairs in there, and some days I'd sat there for quite a long time, laughing as Billy-Joe tried to decide what to wear that day: I'd have been up for hours, gone for a run around the estate, then showered and dressed. I'd go into his bedroom to find him still asleep, and I sometimes had to strip the bedclothes off, and gently slap his ass through his boxers to make him get up. Then we'd go through this performance of deciding for shorts or slacks, formal or casual, which shirt to wear, which tie went best with which clothes, and so on. His valet - a really big black buck at that time - had pulled out item after item and Billy-Joe had let them casually fall to the floor as he tried to make up his mind: it must have been a huge job, setting things to rights afterwards. It was easy for me, of course, as I always travelled light and only ever had a couple of shirts and so on - I relied on the excellent laundry service in the house to make them clean and fresh each day. Billy-Joe had tried to explain it all to me, and I supposed I'd seen one facet of it when my boss at the office had talked to me at my appraisal interview.

"Steve", Billy-Joe had said, "Folks around here expect a gentleman to dress well, and always to be immaculately turned out. It shows you can afford slaves, and know how to handle them."

I'd had to wait then whilst Billy-Joe showered (with the big black helping him), and then they'd both come back and the valet would help Billy-Joe dress. I was used to seeing Billy-Joe naked of course as we were team mates, and roomies, but it did seem odd having the big buck black there too, with his tackle flopping around as he bobbed up and down, helping Billy-Joe button his slacks, tie his shoe laces, and so on. But it seemed natural to Billy-Joe, so who was I to worry?

As Charlie and Coon led me in now, though, it seemed a very different place - masculine, and scary. And that "southern way of life" of which it spoke was one where I'd now been on the other side. In front of the two armchairs was another piece of furniture, now also - one of the standard punishment horses. It seemed strangely out of keeping for this room, not only because of its purpose, but because it was an ultra modern one, in chrome and black leather.

"Don't give us any trouble, man", Charlie whispered pleadingly. "We've got to do what we're doing, and we don't want to have to hurt you..." They led me over to the horse, stood me at one end of the black leather top, and pushed me gently backwards so that my head was fully supported on it, but my butt just overhung the other end. The leather felt cool against my back. They dropped to their knees, pulled my arms down, and I felt Velcro bindings hold my wrists to the front legs.

Billy-Joe came in and looked down at me lying there, effectively helpless. He moved to stand by the side of me, and ran the palm of his hand across my belly. "Really nice, Steve. I love those ridges overlying the solid flesh. The life really does agree with you, as I've said. And I'm glad I didn't allow Straughan to have your belly hair shaved off - I've always admired the way that little thatch spreads from side to side, with the thicker spine of your treasure trial running through it. You really are one great-looking piece of manflesh, Steve."

"Get your hands off me, pervert!"

"Steve, let's be clear about one thing. It's more than my hands that are going to be all over you very shortly. And it's not 'perverted' in any way - it's just the appreciation that I , as owner, have for one of my prize possessions. I run my hands over the curves on the Jaguar when the slaves have finished polishing it, in just the same way. And I get the same feeling of pride of ownership."

Well, what could I say? He'd borrowed money against my life for his fucking car, and now he's telling me he likes stroking us the same way. But he hadn't finished with me - I almost arched my back in surprise, as the nails of his thumb and forefinger bit into the nub of my left tit!

"...and these", he went on, "Quite superb. Lovely, big, dark aureoles and nice big nubs. And oh.... Steve... you do get excited when another man starts to play with you! I can feel your nub stiffening...." He leaned over me and rubbed the warm damp palm of his other hand over my right tit, and I squirmed slightly as the kind of ticklish pleasure affected me.

He leaned back, grinning down at me. "You told me once you had sensitive nips, when it was so cold and we'd been out training. You were positively moaning from where the cold had struck through your thin sports shirt and it had made you all sore. You know, it's interesting, but there's one set of those mythical lines the Chinese never show when they're trying to convince you there's some scientific basis to acupuncture: the one that I always think joins a guy's nips to his dick. You'll be amazed how many guys can't help getting an erection when you fondle their tits a bit!"

I was evidently one of these, as I could feel my dick was indeed rock hard. Billy-Joe just laughed softly, and almost whispered "So, Steve, getting a hard-on for your owner, are you? And after only a little bit of foreplay? You really are a dumb fuck, you know - we could have had a good thing going if you'd thought about your real nature, and our friendship."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? All that desperate chasing after women, all that whoring around. And all the time down at the gym working out, all that exercising, being captain of the football squad and training hard with them and showering together.... You really like men and men's bodies, Steve, but you're ashamed to admit if for some reason. You want to play that game that so many guys play: 'I'm straight, even though I like male skin'. Well, play time is over, Steve, as you're about to find out. It's just a pity you didn't get to where you are ultimately going to get to sooner, so we could have played together."

As he was speaking, he'd moved around to stand between my legs, and reached down to touch my rock-hard dick that was standing up like a flagpole from my body. My feet were on the ground, and I tried to aim a good kick at him, then to kind of scoop my legs around him to throw him of balance. At once, though, Charlie and Coon threw themselves on to the floor, and grabbed my ankles, and held onto them.

Looking along my body at me, Billy-Joe gave a wicked smile. "Now that wasn't very nice, was it, Steve? Hardly the way to treat a guy you think of as a buddy, much less the way you treat your owner? Still, now's as good a time as any to let me really feel your dick in its new, streamlined shape!"

He started to caress and play with my dick, and I wriggled and writhed as whole sets of sensations went through me. I wanted to jerk away from him. I wanted to thrust myself up at him. I wanted him to stop. No I wanted him to carry on. As he teased my shaft and idly flicked at my meaty flange, I felt as if I might die from anger, or from pleasure, or something. To try to stop myself from cumming, I started shouting, calling him all the vile names I could think of.

He stopped, ran his fingers delicately over my dick head, then moved back towards my head. "See, Steve, perhaps there are things men can do for you. Those angry shouts are often done to disguise the real feelings. And your body knows what it likes - look...." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, and I could see them glistening in the light. He held them underneath my nose. I tried to turn away, but he gripped my chin with his other hand and turned me back. "See that? Smell that? That's pre-cum, Steve. You were about to get off on having your dick played with by a guy! So don't tell me you're 'completely straight': every guy I've ever met likes the feel of another guy's dick and likes to have his own dick played with, if he's honest about it, unprejudiced, and is given the opportunity."

"Still, I can't keep on playing - there's serious work to do. "Grunt... Come and produce some lube for us."

The young lad bounded over, and I saw that his dick was already rock hard. I remembered how I'd been at sixteen - I could hardly keep it down, and was jolly glad that I'd had tight briefs and jockstraps and stuff under my pants. Without even the tiny scrap of cloth, Grunt was totally unrestrained and even though he was really well hung, his dick was making such an angle to the vertical that its head was almost touching his belly. He came and stood between my legs, where Billy-Joe had been, and I bent my head upwards to see what he was doing. To my amazement, he started to jerk off, right there, with Charlie, Coon, Billy-Joe, and me all watching! He didn't seem to be a bit embarrassed or anything, and it didn't take him long: in horror, I realised that the warm sensation I was feeling on my belly was his cum - he'd moved as close to me as he could as he started to shoot, then pointed his dick down so that his creamy white fluid shot all over me, just missing my partially shaved and trimmed pubes.

He stood there, panting, and I shouted "You fucker, Billy-Joe! Making that lad cum over me!"

"You'll be glad of it, Steve, believe me. You know the Colonel's heavily into organics and the environment and all that stuff? Well, he won't allow any artificial lube to be used here: he says it's a waste of the earth's resources, when there are perfectly natural and very good sources always 'to hand', in a manner of speaking! As well as being a good fuck, Grunt here's really big into cum production, aren't you, boy?"

The lad nodded, smiling and eager to please, and Billy-Joe gave him an affectionate slap on his perfect butt as he came around and stood between my legs.

"Right, Steve, time to begin. You two - take his legs back...."

Charlie and Coon continued to hold my ankles, but pulled them back up over me, so that they were almost touching my shoulders. I'm flexible enough that it didn't hurt at all and there's no fat on me that makes it difficult to bend at the hips or anything, but I hated it - I knew that in this position, with my legs spread wide apart, my hole was completely exposed.

Billy-Joe moved in again. He didn't play with my dick this time, but started to massage my balls. "Wonderful, Steve", he almost crooned. "You don't know how much I wanted to do this all that time we roomed together... and now we've had that hair removed... man, are you hung! These are like gulls' eggs.... and now...."

If I could have, I would have jerked away from him as the most extraordinary tingling and tickling spread through me - Billy-Joe must have been lightly running his finger nail up and down that incredibly sensitive area between the back of my balls and my ass hole. How do I know? Well, I once had a real slut of a girlfriend who just couldn't leave me alone down there - gave fantastic head, sucked my balls, and ran her long manicured nails along that little ridge of skin down there. She'd wanted to play with my pucker, too, and hadn't believed me when I told her to cut it out, and said that all the guys liked it really: I'd finally had to slap her a bit, I think, to make her stop, and we broke up soon afterwards. I used to look at the guy she picked up with after me, a big hulk on the ice-hockey team, and wondered if she got her finger up him.

There was no escaping Billy-Joe though, was there? I felt his finger nail scratching at my pucker, and then starting to pry its way in. I clenched my ass muscles as best I could to try to stop him, and broke out with a new wave of obscenities at him. But Billy-Joe just smiled down at me, and said "Easy, Steve... My, but you're tight! No one has ever been up here, have they?"

"No, motherfucker, of course they haven't. Except when the doctor gives me a rectal exam." I started my stream of obscenities again.

There was a stinging slap across my naked butt, on the sensitive exposed area that nothing ever touches normally. I yelped with surprise.

"OK, Steve, that's enough! I'm tired of hearing you talk about my ancestors and our sexual habits. Now, unless you keep quiet, I'll have you muzzled - and that would be a pity. When you first scream as my dick skewers you, I want to hear it. And it's good for you, as a good shout lets out all the tension and anger. But no more swearing, no more blaspheming, or the muzzle goes in, understand?"

I remembered the feeling of complete helplessness that had swept over me at the doctor's office, and decided I'd shut up.

Another stinging slap - harder this time - and I yelped again. "When your owner speaks to you, you reply. Remember that simple rule, Steve? I asked you if you were going to shut up, or be muzzled... and you owe me a reply."

"OK."

Another stinging slap. This time it wasn't just the shock. It really did hurt.

"Lesson time continues, Steve. 'OK' is all right between buddies, but from a slave to his owner? If I have any more insubordination or impoliteness from you, the next time my hand touches you it won't be your butt: it will be your balls. Understand?"

Gritting my teeth with anger and frustration, as I knew I was powerless and Billy-Joe might just start beating my balls, I muttered "Yes, master. And please don't muzzle me, master."

"Good, Steve! I think we're making real progress here."

Is progress when you're coerced really progress? I don't know, but it didn't seem to be the time to argue the point. I lust lay there, the three slaves surrounding me, as Billy-Joe reached down and casually wiped his fingers around in the pool of Grunt's cum still lying on my belly. His finger was at my hole again then, but this time it wasn't the nail gently scratching to request entrance. It was the tip of his middle finger, pushing and pushing. I tried to slither backwards on the horse, to get away from it, but it was no good - the terrible insistent pressure continued, until with a kind of "plop" it gained is objective. I moaned. Billy-Joe smiled.

"Now, just relax, Steve. I'm nicely lubed, so this shouldn't hurt. I'm going to get my whole finger inside you, then I'm going to fuck you a bit with it, then my second finger's going to go in, then I'm going to fuck you with two fingers, then I'm going to use them to stretch your hole a bit... no, a lot. As I'm sure you know from all that time together, I'm got quite a big dick myself, and I want to make it as easy as possible to get in to you. See - that's what friends are for! Some owners just dry fuck their slaves with no preparation - the slave remembers it for ever! But I'm more considerate - and, anyway, dry fucking a virgin hole can give you nasty burn abrasions on your dick."

Well, he did. I lay there and whined, moaned, and swore silently to myself as Billy-Joe's assault on my hole continued. He kind of stood at right angles to me, and rested his other hand on my lower ribs to steady himself so he could get a proper purchase with his fingers up me. He refreshed the supplies of Grunt's cum often, and had it not all been so disgusting and humiliating, I think that I might have found it mildly enjoyable.

He stopped, then, looked down at my face once more, and said "So this is it, Steve - you'll never be the same again! You're going to lose your virginity, buddy, to your old team mate - and there isn't a blind thing you can do to stop it. So try to relax, and try to store this all away in your brain... the first time is special, you know."

He snapped his fingers, and young Grunt came over and eased Billy-Joe's boxers off him, then neatly folded them. He went to help Billy-Joe off with his T, but Billy-Joe waved him away. Billy-Joe's big, thick dick stuck out from under the hem of the T: yes, I had looked at it when we were roomies, and had decided that it was thicker than mine, but shorter; overall, I had the best combination. I wondered if he'd decided to keep the T on as he was ashamed of his belly. Or was it that in this group of good looking naked men, he knew that he was the one who just wasn't in proper condition? Funny how your mind starts to think abut things like that when there a lot more important things going on, isn't it? Who knows - but my speculation was cut short as Grunt fell to his knees in front of him, dipped his fingers in the pool of his own cum still lying on me, then with what amounted almost to reverence, proceeded to stroke and caress Billy-Joe's dick until it was completely coated, and stood out proud, shining in the subdued lighting.

"Right now, Steve.... Here it is", Billy-Joe almost whispered as he moved towards my ass. "Get ready, boy, to feel your owner and master."

I now know there's always something special about the feel of a dick head against your pucker - most of us have felt it, haven't we? That soft, hard, warm, firm, spongy piece of flesh that's impossible to describe. In spite of having been massaged and stretched, I was still tight as a drum, and Billy-Joe stood there, his head pushing into me. He grunted as he moved forward, trying to gain entry. Then pulled his hips back slightly, and thrust forward almost viciously. I gave a howl at the unexpectedness of it, but something had happened - my wall had been breached, my sphincter had opened, and Billy-Joe's dick head was inside me.

"There!" He almost shouted in triumph. "How does it feel, Steve, to have me inside you? How do you like your owner's dick forced into you, being utterly unable to prevent it, and having it ravaging your ass?"

"Bastard!", I managed to say through clenched teeth - it really had hurt, but I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Billy-Joe didn't reply, but I could see him raising himself gently on his toes a little, then leaning forward so that more of his dick slid into me. I was in real discomfort - yes, that's the word for it, rather than pain. It felt huge, and solid, and was if it was trying to split me in half. But at the same time there was that indefinable something, that tingling, that tells you that something strange, yet exciting, is going on. It was almost as if I could feel the motion of his dick, and it seemed to go on for ever. Then I felt Billy-Joe's pubic hair scratching the delicate parts of my ass, and I knew he must be fully home. He looked down at me again, his face now streaked with sweat - it must have been the excitement, rather than the exertion - and whispered "Yes, Steve, I'm right in you now. You're skewered on my dick, boy. My big, thick dick has forced your ass open, and your ass is mine! If you doubted that you belonged to me before, know it now, boy: know that I own you, not only as a slave, but also as a catamite, who has felt my dick right in him. How does it feel, Steve? How does it feel now that you know that you're mine, totally and absolutely and completely?"

"Bastard!", I said again.

Billy-Joe pulled his hips back and I got that wonderful feeling of relief you get as a dick that's been forced into you pulls out - somehow, the flesh of your pucker that's been stretched and stretched almost relaxes, and a great flood of well being went through me, rather like you get when you've been straining to drop a huge turd. But then he thrust forward again, and, in spite of my determination to remain silent, I couldn't help moaning as it was so acutely uncomfortable. "Ah, Steve, a reaction at last! Are you going to turn out to be one of those guys who moans in time to my thrusts, like young Grunt?"

To make his point, he went in and out about four times, and I just couldn't help moaning and groaning. Billy-Joe was starting to smile now, and just to show his complete mastery of me, he pulled back and did a number of short, sharp, hard thrusts, so that his body slammed into mine with a great slapping sound. That hurt! Well, it hurt, and yet it was pleasurable at the same time. I just couldn't help shouting each time, and, in truth, I couldn't tell you whether that was with the discomfort, or the excitement.

Billy-Joe went on and on - sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Sometimes long, leisurely strokes where his dick was right in me, and sometimes little spurts of energy that only moved his dick an inch or so. After a time, I realised I was totally out of control - I was writhing as best I could, moaning, crying out... making all the signs that I'd seen in a woman when I'd really fucked her hard. A part of my brain said that this couldn't be happening to me - I couldn't be reacting this way to getting fucked. But my body seemed to know better - sweat was pouring off me, and I was breathing rapidly and shallowly, and I knew my heart was racing away.

I don't know how long it went on for. I lost all track of time. It was as if my whole being focussed down to the feeling of Billy-Joe inside me, the sounds we were making, and the way our bodies were reacting. Suddenly Billy-Joe threw his head back, his back arched and his hips came right forward so that his dick plunged as deep as it could into me for one last time. "Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm cumming....", he shouted, and, as I looked , a great spasm seemed to go through him. A moment later he collapsed down on top of me, his dick still buried deep inside. I was conscious of his sweat-soaked T pressing down on my sodden chest, and I could feel us both panting and gasping, and our hearts racing, as he lay on top of me.

His sweat-soaked face was pressed close to mine, and I could smell the stale beer on his breath. His lank, damp hair fell forward over his face, and I saw he was smiling. "You're one great fuck, Steve! Really tight, but a great fuck! It's really good to pound a big, muscular ass like yours, as a change from young Grunt here, or some of the guys in the city who've got no muscle tone at all. I'm going to look forward to my weekends here in future..."

"Bastard! Billy-Joe, you fucked me. You fucked me against my will. You utter cunt, Billy-Joe. You did to me what I was accused of doing to Chantelle, even though I didn't...!"

"Two big differences, Steve: one, I'm a guy and you're a guy. Guys can do what they like with each other, you know. You have to be more careful when women are involved. And two, you're a slave, my slave.

I own you, I own your body, and I own your ass. And when I've fucked you a few more times, I'll own your mind, too."

"Never! I may be your slave, but you'll never own me."

"Yes I will, Steve. You've already seen how I can make you take my dick, and I can do it whenever I want, you know. And you'll soon get used to servicing me, making that nice warm hole open up to receive my seed. How does it feel, Steve, to have your owner's man-juice right inside you? Do you like to feel the essence of me right up your ass? Next time, I'll show you how it feels to take it right down your throat - a slave should get used to servicing his owner's dick from both ends."

"Bastard! We used to be friends, Billy-Joe, and you've raped me.... So fuck off, forget it, leave me alone..."

"Yes, Steve. But you can't really be friends with a slave, you know. And I can't leave you - as I said, I'm doing this for your own good, really. This way I won't have to sell you. This way I can give you your freedom, eventually. And you have to learn to live like a slave, think like a slave, and act like a slave to prevent Mr Straughan from complaining. So from time to time we'll have to repeat this little experience. But, as they say, you'll always remember the first time - however many more dicks you take in your lifetime, you'll always remember that it was mine., Billy-Joe's, that was the first."

He pulled out of me, and stood there by my head now, with my ass juices and his semen slicking his dick and almost dripping off onto the floor. He was detumescing rapidly, and as I watched in fascinated horror, he snapped his fingers and pointed at his dick - young Grunt at once fell to his knees, then started to lap and lick at Billy-Joe, cleaning him up. He must have caused Billy-Joe some discomfort occasionally, as during this process Billy-Joe would casually push Grunt's head away from him, slap his face, then point, to indicate that the lad should re-start.

"See, Steve? This is how you slaves have to work together. If you hadn't had your ass properly cleaned, think of how vile it would be for Grunt." Actually, I thought it was pretty awful for Grunt anyway - that mixture of Billy-Joe's semen, my sweat, and worse, must be nauseating.

Billy-Joe signalled to Charlie and Coon, and they lowered my legs to the ground. It was a relief to be un-bent, I suppose, but they made no move to undo my hands so I had to continue to lie there on the punishment horse. I watched as Charlie and Coon moved back and stood respectfully at "rest" against the wall again, although they were clearly excited - their dicks were half-hard, and I suspected they'd been really hard when Billy-Joe had been fucking me. I could se little drops of pre-cum had formed at each of their piss slits. Grunt finished his cleaning of Billy Joe, then helped Billy-Joe back into his shorts.

Billy-Joe went to one of the arm chairs and sat down, sprawling luxuriantly, and Grunt went out and came back in with another beer for him.

Billy-Joe chugged his beer down noisily, looked at me, and said "Doing the right thing can be hard work, Steve. I hope you appreciate what I've done for you."

I decided to say nothing, and Billy-Joe went on "Well, I've done my duty as your owner, and taken your cherry. Now, there's only one thing left to do, to finally finish the process. It's an old tradition, really, and not all that relevant these days, but traditions are so important, don't you think?"

I remained silent, but started to wonder what the fuck he was planning now.

"Yes, in the old days, when there were a lot of female slaves and we needed to take their cherries, there was always the concern that it might be during their fertile period, so the owner might inadvertently sire a pup. Potentially a bit embarrassing, what, to have your kids as slaves? So they hit on the great idea of having a slave fuck the woman immediately afterwards, so no one would ever be sure who was the sire. Neat, eh? Of course, it would be pointless today, with DNA and stuff. And we don't have many women slaves. But somehow the old traditions linger on, albeit slightly changed: after you've experienced the pleasure of your owner's dick for the first time, we still get another slave to fuck you. So that if any semen trickles out of you, no one will ever know if it's mine, or the slave's."

Oh no, I thought - not again. He couldn't be serious.

I went to protest, but he was carrying on talking. "I tell you what, Steve, as we were buddies, I'll let you choose - which of these slaves do you want to fuck you? Who's going to be number two up that ass of yours? One of these two fine blacks - not that it will make much difference, as they're so alike - or young Grunt here? He's got a nice young, fresh dick, you know, and doesn't get much of a chance to use it..."

"Fuck you, Billy-Joe! Haven't you done enough to me already?"

"Steve, you still don't get it , do you? I'm only doing this to make sure you survive, old buddy. You need to be able to fit in here, so Straughan will let me keep you. That's the only way to prevent me from having to sell you... And Straughan and the Colonel are strong on tradition, you know. Straughan told the Colonel that you needed your cherry taken, and so I've done it. Now, what do you think he'd say if he heard we hadn't followed through, and done the rest? After all, it can hardly matter to you - it's the first one that's important, and after that the rest is easy..."

"Please, master, please, Billy-Joe, please... Please don't make me take more dick. I'm a guy, who likes fucking women... Please...."

"Oh, Steve. You still don't get it, do you? All the slaves here are male, as all of them are expected to take part in sex. It keeps you interested, it keeps you amused, and it keeps you fit. Now, are you going to choose one of these magnificent black bucks, or young Grunt?"

"No way! As I said...."

"You say far too much, Steve, for a slave. Now, from here on in, just try to only speak when you're spoken to! There have been things said tonight that slaves shouldn't say to masters... I'll forgive it this time, as you're new to it. But no more, understand?" He looked over to where Charlie and Coon were standing, and snapped "You, on the left, over here and fuck this one's ass: and be quick about it."

It was Charlie, I saw. He stood between my legs, and I didn't have the heart to kick out at him: it wasn't his fault, after all, that he was going to have to do this. He lifted my legs up and put my feet over his shoulders, then bent forward so that my legs bent and his big, handsome face was hovering over mine. "I'm sorry, Steve, man", he whispered, "But I'll be as gentle as I can...."

He reached down and fumbled with his dick, and then I felt again that amazing feeling of a warm dick head nudging my pucker, asking for, no, demanding, entry. Billy-Joe sat on his easy chair, his beer in his hand, watching intently.

"Come on, slave", he commanded Charlie. "I want some action. Get stuck in there, as we haven't got all night!"

Charlie inched forward, then thrust with his hips. I must have been looser now, as his dick slid into me, and the next moment he was fucking away - none of the finesse of Billy-Joe, with varied stroke lengths, changing speeds, and different pressures: no, this was just a crude, persistent vigorous in and out, until, after only a very short time, he too had thrown his head back and his face had set into that rictus of emotion that I now know means that you've shot your load.

He pulled out of me, and Grunt, at Billy-Joe's signal, cleaned up his dick. It seemed somehow strange to see the pure alabaster whiteness of the young lad pressed into the solid black muscle of the older man. Charlie had a smile of pure pleasure on his face as Grunt licked at his dick and balls, and occasionally made little whimpering noises at some specific action. But of course he did not slap the lad, as Billy-Joe had done - there's loyalty amongst slaves, I suppose.

"OK, Steve, your turn! I could have that other black fuck you, I suppose, but he's very like the one who's just taken you, and there's no sport in that. The only one who hasn't really performed is young Grunt - it might be amusing to have his young, vigorous dick plunging up you. But he can't sustain it - four thrusts and he's cum. It does occur to me, though, that we might have a second 'taking of the cherry', though. Have you been up another guy's ass, Steve?"

"NO, of course not... I don't fuck guys..."

"You mean you used not to fuck guys... Now you're a slave, you do exactly as you're told. And rather than having Grunt fuck you, I want to see you fucking Grunt."

"No way! I don't care what you do. I don't fuck ass. I'm not fucking that lad...." Actually, I suppose I was telling a tiny lie - I had occasionally tried to slip my dick up the ass of a girl friend, just to see what it was like, but they'd always screamed and told me to stop It had always seemed deliciously wicked and decadent, so I don' really know why I was refusing to do it up a guy's ass - there couldn't be much anatomical difference, after all. But I wasn't going to give Billy-Joe even the hint that I might go with another guy, was I?

Billy-Joe sat there, and said "Well, it's a pity that the evening's entertainment has to end so soon. And I think your balls are still full, Steve. It's not fair that most of us here have had sex but you haven't... And I don't like your continuing defiance. But let's see if we can do something about it...!"

He snapped his fingers again, and Grunt, who had resumed his position kneeling by Billy-Joe as he lay sprawled in the armchair chair, at once became all alert attention. Billy-Joe rubbed the lad's cropped head almost affectionately, then whispered something into his ear. A huge smile flowed across his face, and Billy-Joe gave a little smirk, too. Grunt leapt up, and the next instant was astride me, straddling my belly (that was still slimed from the lad's cum from earlier). I could feel the warm moistness of his ass against me, and he leaned forward and started to gently tweak my nipples.

I tried to twitch and stop him, but even though he was only sixteen he was a solid lad, firm and muscular, and with my hands still restrained there was just no way I could dislodge him from where he was sitting on me. I shouted for him to stop, but he carried on toying with me, and as my nips were now standing upright, hard, from my pecs, he spat into the palms of his hands, then pressed down on them and rolled his palms around. I could no longer shout at him to stop, and my moans of pleasure were the only sounds that could come from me. The inevitable happened, too - I could feel my dick straining towards the sky, as he continued to assault the tender nubs.

Grunt stopped working on my nips and reached behind him and searched around for my dick whilst continuing to keep his eyes fixed on mine.. Feeling it hard, he moved his body back slightly, and the sweat on his smooth white back felt warm and sensual as he pressed against me. I'd never had another man against me like this before, but, to tell you the truth, if I hadn't been looking up at Grunt and knew it was him, it would have been difficult to tell that it wasn't a woman - his skin was so soft, and totally without hairs, that I could have made that mistake.

His hand stroked up and down my shaft, almost rolling it against his skin and trying to snuggle it into the cleft between his butt cheeks. I was moaning uncontrollably now, and I just knew that pre-cum must be pouring from me - no one had ever played with my dick like this before, as most of the women I'd fucked had been very conventional, and it was a wholly new sensation for me. But Grunt didn't stop there - he now raised himself up off me slightly and moved his body backwards, and still gripping my rock-hard dick started to stroke the tip of it gently along the underside of his ass - I could feel it nudge the silky softness of his ball sac, and then he pushed it backwards so that my tip touched his pucker. I thought I was going to cry out, it felt so amazing, and little waves of tingling pleasure assaulted my brain.

I could see Billy-Joe staring intently at what was happening, as were Charlie and Coon, who were both erect. I guessed Billy-Joe must be, too, but his dick was hidden by the baggy T and loose boxers he was wearing.

Grunt gripped my cock harder now, and slid his hand up and down my shaft a couple of times to make sure I was absolutely achingly erect, then gently, ever so gently, his eyes locked on mine, he lowered himself down on to me. My dick told me that it was being pressured to do something, but still the boy lowered himself until I felt a kind of "pop" and I knew he had fed me up inside him. Grunt now broke into a huge grin, and, still watching me closely, started to rock up and down on me.

I had one really slutty girl once who didn't want me to fuck her normally - all she wanted to do was to ride my dick like this, whilst I reached up and played with her breasts. My arms were still fastened now, of course, so I just had to lie there as Grunt rode me - up and down, up and down - it was like being jerked off by the most soft, silky hands imaginable.

He got faster and faster, and his cries - yes, I suppose they were grunts - were synchronised with my own guttural noises - somewhere, from somewhere deep down inside me, I could hear myself making these visceral sounds brought on by utter abandonment to sexual passion.

To my amazement I found my body responding almost involuntarily - as he rode up and down, I flexed my thighs and forced my dick up and down, as if I was desperate to get as far inside him as I possibly could. There was a lot of slapping of flesh against flesh as his tender ass and balls coming down met my pelvis trusting upwards, and the motion of his body was causing little drops of sweat to fly off him and land all over me.

I just couldn't hold it - I felt my cum bubbling up from my balls, and as the lad sank down on me the next time, I started to pump my cum up into him. He didn't stop, though, and continued his ride of me. I was in real trouble now, as my dick is incredibly sensitive once I've shot - as his motion continued I started to writhe again, desperate to get my dick out from him to stop the exquisite sensations that were racing through me - those of you who have sensitive dicks will know what I mean: you want it to stop, you're desperate for it to stop, but, on the other hand, you want it to go on for ever! I was shouting and screaming now, gasping for air, completely abandoned.

Grunt looked alarmed, then sank back down, quivering from his exertions, but smiling down at me. He bent forward, and kissed me on the lips! I was so astonished and unprepared for this simple gesture from the lad that I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. His tongue was trying to force itself into my mouth, and now his hands were pressed into the side of my face - he seemed desperate to want to get inside me, to possess me in some other way.

"That's enough, Grunt!". Billy-Joe's voice rang out like a pistol shot. "I told you to make him cum, not to have some lovey-dovey session! I just needed him to feel ass around his dick, not to start making proper love to you - now get off him, at once!"

Grunt climbed off me, very reluctantly, I thought, and I raised my head to look along my body. My dick was collapsing now, covered in my cum and Grunt's sweat, and there was that lucious, heavy smell of sex in the air.

"So, Steve, how does it feel to have fucked an ass? Good, isn't it?"

"I didn't fuck ass..."

"Yes you did. I've had Grunt ride other men, you know. Those who really don't like it just lie there, perfectly still. But you joined in, didn't you? Your were thrusting up and down, almost as if you were synchronised with him but completely out of phase, so that you were trying to plunge deeper and deeper into his ass. It's great, isn't it? Young, tender, sixteen year old boy ass? Don't you wish you were here when Grunt first lost his cherry? Don't you wish it was your dick that introduced him to the joys of sex?"

I don't know, honestly I didn't. There was something different about sex as I had just experienced it, something that just seemed better than when that woman had ridden me. Having a hard, firm man's body on me seemed somehow right. I decided not to say anything to Billy-Joe in reply, in case my answers inadvertently revealed something to him that I did not want - I had to think through what had just happened, and until then, say nothing.

"I think we'll have to do this again", Billy-Joe went on. "Steve, you and Grunt are the only two slaves I actually own on this whole estate. I think it might be companionable for us all to get together again, don't you?"

Grunt was nodding eagerly, but I turned my head away to the side, away from Billy-Joe.

"Ah, Steve... Body language! Interesting.... Still, I'm going back to the city early tomorrow, so time for bed." He looked across to Charlie and Coon and told them to release me and take me back to the slave quarters, then without even saying goodnight, he walked into his bathroom, Grunt trotting obediently behind him.

End Of Part Eight