HARBOUR MASTER, Part 21
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
I guess we'd have gone on wandering aimlessly from one motel to another for a few more weeks, waiting for the fuss to really die down, until one day the "secret" cell that I'd bought, and whose number was known only to Bill, rang.
I was expecting to hear Bill, of course, and felt that feeling of sick apprehension you get when you suspect there's going to be bad news - Bill had promised not to ring that number unless it was a real emergency. But it wasn't Bill - it was a voice I didn't recognise at all.
"Is that Steve?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"It's 'Slaves For You', sir, Flagstaff branch. I've been asked to contact you about a young male slave who is being offered for sale in three days time."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"A young male turned himself in to us two days ago under the new Government voluntary enslavement scheme.
Normally, the 250K goes to the relatives, but he instructed us to call you and say that the money's waiting here - you only have to produce the cell phone as proof of identity. Very odd! But then boys do get these mad ideas when they submit themselves."
"What voluntary programme, what 250K?"
"Haven't you heard, sir? In order to try and control slave prices because of the extreme scarcity of new criminals, and to help combat unemployment generally, the government pays a bounty of 250K to anyone who voluntarily commits himself to slavery - 150K for women, as they are less in demand. Quite a lot of men are turning themselves in, and giving their families the benefit of the money - all you have to do is turn up at a slave dealer authorised to participate in the programme, give proof of your age, as we of course don't take men less than 16, and there's an upper limit, too, as slaves older than 45 are not much in demand, and we send the funds to your designated beneficiary - I almost said "family" again, but of course on signing the papers, you're a slave, and all family ties are automatically broken."
"This slave turned up with his papers, and wanted to sign", he went on, "But he asked us to carry out these wishes in regard to the 250K. As a slave, we have no need to do this for him as agreements with slaves aren't worth the paper they're not written on, to use an old joke. But 'Slaves For You' has a reputation for honesty and fair dealing, so if you could come along and present your cell phone, we'll release the funds to you."
"And the slave.... "
"Well, he'll be in the next auction in three days time. And I think he'll get a good price - he's got a nice body, big dick, and he's really quite handsome. Once he's filled out with some harder exercise and reached full maturity, he'll make a magnificent fuck toy for some lucky owner. I expect one of the farms will buy him, rear him to maturity and exercise him properly, then sell him at a very handsome profit."
"And you say he was young... 16, I suppose, answers to the name of Bill?"
"Sir, I'm not allowed to disclose that information under the State's privacy laws. But you would be right in assuming he was at the very bottom end of the age eligibility. As for the name - well, that's now irrelevant, as he merely has a number, until his new owner selects a name for him."
"Loo, there's been a ghastly mistake - can't we back this out.... Take back the 250K..."
"I'm sorry, sir, but the legislation is very clear. As for involuntary enslavement, it must be for the entire life of the slave. The law allows no weakening of the slave ethos - a slave must know he's a slave for life once he's given up his free status. I'm unable to release the slave, and he will be auctioned in three days. Can you indicate, sir, when we might expect you to collect the 250K?"
"I'm on my way!"
I told Matt what had happened, and he was even more horrified than me.
"Boss, please phone my wife... She's a lawyer... She can do something."
"No, Matt, it won't work. I know the slavery laws, as I researched them when I was about to be committed. There have been absolutely no reversals of slave status once a man has been committed! The Supreme Court has quashed every attempt to do so, as it regards slavery as one of the new absolutes in our society. If Bill is going to be saved, it's got to be us that does it!"
We checked out rapidly, and fortunately Flagstaff was only a day's drive for us - I even let Matt take the wheel, so that we didn't need to stop at all on the way.
It was night when we arrived, and the dealers was closed! The security guard absolutely refused to let us in, but told us that "Viewings would start again at ten tomorrow". We checked into a motel, but neither of us slept - there was nothing we could do to make sleep come, and we clung together in an agony of worry.
The next morning we had a potential problem - I couldn't take Matt to the slave dealers, but he really wanted to go, and I understood. So I allowed him to get dressed in a spare T and shorts, and we stood there, so alike, almost like cousins. "Now listen, Matt, no funny business! If you see a slave detection barrier, you MUST turn back as there are probably all sorts of unpleasant things they can do - don't try to tell them the 'real' truth, as I don't think slave dealers care - they'd just see an opportunity to sell you, as you've got a tracker chip, AND me as an escaped slave. If we're going to save Bill, we've got to work together on this one, agreed?"
I could tell Matt was sincere, and grateful to me, as he agreed, and we set out.
We were the first through the doors at ten that morning, and one of the dealer staff greeted us. I explained about the phone call, and we were taken into a small office, where a man arrived wearing neat business casuals, with a badge saying "Slaves For you - Gunther"
"Good morning, gentlemen. You're here with the cell phone, I understand...."
"Yes..."
"Call me Gunther, sir. We like to do business in a friendly way here at 'Slaves For you'."
"Well, Gunther, we don't want the money... Just give us the slave back, and we'll be on our way."
"I'm afraid that really is impossible, as I indicated to you on the phone. Once the papers have been signed and filed with the district slave court, there's absolutely no going back."
"But I want my son back....", Matt almost shouted.
"Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't make the laws, but we have to uphold them here. The only way you can get your son back is to buy the slave in the auction - and even then, technically, he's no longer your son. You no longer have a son in law, sir - your will, all that sort of thing, is no longer valid."
I thought Matt was going to hit the man, but he was only doing his job, after all.
"Gunther, how much do you think a slave like the one we're talking about might fetch?"
"Well, sir, it is an auction. It depends on how many of the city dealers are here looking for new stock, and whether the rearing farms are in the market... But, on average, healthy, handsome, well-built, well-hung, intelligent young guys fetch anything from 200K to 300K."
"The rearing farms....", Matt snapped.
"Yes, sir. There's not all that much call for very young slaves, except from much older men looking for a 'toy'. But there are specialist dealers - we call them rearing farms - who buy up the youngest stock then keep them until they're in their early twenties. A man's musculature really only fills out in the very late teens, and the discerning buyer increasingly wants a slave with big biceps, strong shoulders, six pack stomach, a thick muscled neck.... They're called 'farms' as they tend to be out in places like this: good fresh air, lots of open space to exercise in. It's quite like putting the slaves into the Marines, as they do continuous exercise. Only the training is different, of course - as well as physically preparing the body, the slaves are taught obedience, and how to really please their owners. Most of the slaves in these places really enjoy it after the first week or so - the healthy life, the exercise - they are allowed to play football and stuff, as well as the workout sessions, the comradeship - they get to know their fellows really well in the dorms... All that sort of stuff. It can really build a young guy's character to make him give up TV and junk food and really focus on developing his body, and his personality. And, of course, they get the very best education in sex that there is - most of the guards and instructors on the farms are really expert lovers, and teach these men all they could wish for. Most of the slaves never want to leave the farms - we go along to collect stock for the auctions, and there are many tearful scenes as the young twenty-something studs are selected out and prepared for shipping."
"So, Gunther", I said "We have to compete with the buyers from these places. But we only have the 250K...."
"Well, sir, you might be lucky... But bear in mind that you have to pay us the four percent buyer's premium, like at any auction, and so you really only have 240K to spend. But shall we at least clear up the question of the money we owe you??"
Gunther pressed buttons on the phone on the desk, and the cell phone in my pocket rang. He reached into a drawer, got out a folder with numbers in big letters on the front, and took out a cheque from inside.
"Here we are, the cheque as the voluntary enslavement premium for 073823506. In what name shall we make it out?"
"Is that my son....", Bill asked in despair.
"Sir, he is no longer your son, as I explained. He may have been your son, but we don't know: once his birth certificate and so on has been checked and authenticated by the district slave court it's all destroyed, and he's now only known by his slave identification number, or SID. His new owner can assign him a name, of course. You are of course most welcome to go and inspect the stock, and one of our handlers will pull him out for you if you quote this SID."
I'd thought of another problem, though. "Gunther... This cheque.... Well, we don't want to bank it...."
"Quite, sir. A lot of beneficiaries are like that, especially since the IRS ruled that the premium is to be considered to be part of the man's 'estate' and is thus being inherited by the beneficiaries. They don't like paying the 10% inheritance tax - more in some states, I believe."
"We can make arrangements to pay in cash, if you wish.
Although it is a large sum, and you will find problems in depositing it in banks and so on with the anti-terrorist laws.... Still, two men like you shouldn't be too bothered by robbers: it's the little old ladies I worry about, who go out with all that money in their purses!"
"Yes, we'd like cash, please. But can we go and see the stock now?"
There were no slave barriers inside the offices, and we went through a display area where a number of young studs were posing on small plinths - their bodies gleamed under the spotlights, and I suspected they must be lightly oiled to glow like that. They were keen to exhibit themselves, and to the limits of their ability ( they were chained by one foot to the ground), they all went through a series of poses as we went past. I guess they would have called to us, but it seemed to be the practice of Slaves For You to show off this stock gagged with the same sort of standard ball gag that was used on me, and I'd used on Matt. They were good looking men, though, and several of them managed to sport erections as we went past, as if to entice us to stop and touch.
Gunther commented "These are some of the stock from the farms that I was telling you about - they're almost unbelievable, aren't they? That's what a few years of good living and tough physical training can do for the very young slaves - you wouldn't believe, would you, that some of these might have been unfit, or overweight? But I think you'll agree that buying a man in his prime like this is certainly very appealing - we'll get very high prices for them tomorrow."
"Why are they so eager to display themselves to us?" Matt asked . I knew the answer, of course, from my own time at a dealers.
Gunther told him, though "Well, sir, they of course want to be sold to kind, caring, considerate masters. Otherwise, in spite of all the training and attention that's been lavished on them, after a certain time we have to dump them into the market just as miners, or field hands, or factory workers, or whatever. They know that the life as a cherished possession of a caring master is likely to be so much better than the life of a 'blue collar' slave that they want to make the best impression on you that they can. Miners, you know, never come to the surface - they spend all their time crawling around miles below. Since the introduction of slavery the mine owners have saved a fortune on housing costs and so on - down deep, the temperature's always the same, so the miners can work naked, and there's no energy expended on the need for lifts up and down... and absolutely no possibility of escape so very little has to be spend on guards. Once you go down the mine, you're there for ever, and they all want to escape that. It's a bit like that in the new factories, too - you're chained to a machine that you feed during your shift, then another slave takes over and you sleep on a pad next to the machine, the pad your fellow has just vacated. Twelve hours a day, seven days a week. So you see they'd much rather be bought by an individual master, and, if I may say so, sir, they're particularly attracted to you gentlemen as potential owners as you yourselves are in such obviously good condition...."
By this time we'd reached a big door that said "General Display Area", and Gunther introduced us to one of the showroom assistants, whose name tag told us he was called Joe.
"I'll leave you in the capable hands of Joe, sirs, as he's one of our trainers who knows the general stock. Just call by at the office on your way out, and the cash will be waiting for you."
Daniel had an easy, open smile. He was a good looking guy, about my age, in neat khaki shorts and a dark green polo saying "Slaves For You." In a way I was glad to see that he hadn't followed the fashion for long baggy shorts, as the legs on his khakis were cut very high, and therefore I could admire his muscular thighs and curly blond hair. Suddenly I realised I was appraising a man - I used to look at women and imagine what they'd be like in bed, but now I was looking at this fit, tanned, muscular guy of my own age and considering the possibilities! How I'd changed.
"Sirs, what kind of slave are you interested in? We keep our stock separated by age - 16 to 21, 22 to 28, 29 to 39, and over 40. Within each age category - except the youngest - we break the slaves down into 'show' slaves, that you'd buy to display to friends and for personal use, 'general domestics' fit for work around the house, and of course for occasional use as sex toys, and 'workers' - broadly, everything else. The only exception is the 16 to 21 group, where we don't classify by job type as they all need training to fit them for their role"
"...and men and women?", I asked.
"No, sir, we don't differentiate. Even though we don't need to, as they're slaves, we obey the anti discrimination laws so male and female slaves are all assigned into those categories and are kept together, and displayed together. Again, the only exception is the 16-21 year olds - there are usually no females in that category."
I was interested. "Why not?"
"Oh, you know, girls at that age are much less hot-headed than guys, much less likely to get into trouble. And they're not as macho as those guys who do the voluntary enslavement thing. Pity, really - on the staff here we can use any of the stock for our own pleasure, and I'd like a constant flow of young 19 year old girls through my quarters..."
I realised I was rapidly losing interest in Joe!
"The 16 to 21 year olds!", Mat told him, rather impatiently. He wasn't interested in these aspects of slavery, as I was.
"Certainly, sir, right this way. They're all at their morning exercise..."
He led us to a balcony that looked down onto a kind of sports hall. Around 2o young guys were running up and down, under instruction from a big, tough-looking guy aged about 35, I would guess. He was shouting orders, and if any of the young guys flagged or disobeyed, he hit out at them with a long cane, and they all tried to avoid this. All the young guys were totally naked, as we might have expected, but they all had erections - yes, every single one. It looked kind of strange to see all these men with huge hard-ons running around - you don't usually run when erect, and the penis isn't really designed for it, I suppose, and it really waves around a lot. The instructor was just wearing a G-string - his muscled body was almost totally visible, and the tiny white silk pouch of the G hardly served to conceal him at all.
"That's our instructor", Joe was saying. "He's a slave, but we keep him here as he's too useful to sell. Used to be in the Marines - was a drill sergeant - but he hit an officer one day and the military court of course sentenced him to enslavement.
We let him wear that G so the other slaves know that he's in charge - I think it makes him look kind of sexy, don't you agree..."
"Bill's not here!", Matt cried. "Where's my son, where's the lad who committed himself voluntarily two days ago..."
"Do you have his SID, sir?"
"SID....?"
"Yes, sir, Slave Identification Number. All new slaves get one now, automatically, just like when a car is registered. Didn't Gunther tell you...?"
I cut in and told Joe the number, and he leaned out and called over the balcony to the instructor "Fetch 073823506 to a private viewing room."
We went down, and waited. The room was bare, except for a sort of pedestal about a metre high, a leather-topped table, and two chairs, which Joe indicated we should sit in.
The drill instructor came in, pulling a lad behind him by the guy's erect dick. I thought at first they'd made a mistake, and brought the wrong man, until I saw that it was indeed Bill!
The instructor pushed him and made him stand on the plinth, and I saw that the room lights were designed to shine down and illuminate his body.
"Bill...", Matt cried, and I had to put an arm out to restrain him and stop him from going and hugging Bill.
The drill instructor had stepped in front of Bill, too, and Joe said "I'm sorry, sir, but we must insist on only professional inspections of the stock. You may of course feel any of the muscles, the dick, the balls... and test the ass hole.... But we must ask you to keep a proper sense of decorum. No emotion and no displays of affection are permitted."
As I looked at Bill I saw why we hadn't been able to pick him out from the crowd. His mid-length hair had gone, and he now had the standard quarter inch "slave cut" - it dramatically altered his looks, and he'd gone from being an intelligent-looking laughing teenager to appearing to be some sort of young thug! A big tattoo on his left shoulder said "Slave 0730823506", and there was a similar tattoo on his right ass, we saw, as the plinth slowly rotated. But probably the biggest change of all was that his erect dick clearly no longer had a 'skin.
"This is the slave you were interested in, sirs. At the youngest end of the spectrum, so ripe for training. He's had all the usual medical inspections and injections, so your maintenance bill should be low for the next year. He's fully fertile, and capable of studding if you wish to breed from him. He's been fitted with the standard tracker chip, and, in accordance with the new regulations governing all new slaves, you'll see he has the necessary tattoos on his shoulder and ass bearing his SIN - it's so much easier to identify slaves, isn't it, when this uniform tagging really gets going?
"But.... But he's circumcised!", Matt blurted out.
"Oh, yes, sir. We found that over 95% of our customers had young male slaves 'skinned, and they hated having to wait after the sale for the operation to be performed - we have such reasonable rates, it's easier to have it done here than to take the slave to a local doctor. And, of course, they can't use the slave immediately whilst the scars heal. So now we just do it as part of the slave's processing, like the shaving of the balls and tidying of the pubic hair - it's quick and painless to just 'skin them all - they hardly notice it: they're lying on their backs having their balls shaved, and the doctor just gives them a quick injection of pain killer and a quick snip of the knife."
"We leave the pleasure point, though, sir, but if you purchase this slave and want that removed, we will do it at no additional charge after the sale.", Joe continued. "Personally, I'd just do it to all of them as it means they can sustain longer without shooting, but we can't forecast what the slave is going to be used for, and some masters want the slave to have as much sensation as possible."
As I looked at Bill, I could see that there were almost tears in his eyes as he saw me and Matt. Matt clearly wanted to hug Bill, but knew it wasn't allowed. We all stood there in silence. I wondered how Matt felt about Bill being 'skinned - he'd been ready enough to do me, and it certainly wasn't "quick and painless with a shot of anaesthetic" as Joe had described!
"So do you want to really inspect the slave, sirs? Or would you like to see how he reacts to a good fucking - the drill instructor here will happily fuck him for you so you can watch and see how he takes it emotionally: some lads are so upset that masters know they're in for weeks of effort to get them to accept sex properly, and we have our reputation for fair dealing to consider. We don't want to sell slaves that will result in unhappy buyers, and hence we introduced this 'try before you buy' facility. It's proving very popular."
Actually, I'd have liked to watch the drill instructor fuck any of the lads! He was very much my type - oh, no, I was getting a "type" of man I liked, was I? He was older than me, tough looking, fit, muscular but not obscenely so, big dick, nice thatch of hair on his chest and a neat treasure trail across a flat, muscular belly, and from the rear, wide shoulders tapering in the classic inverted triangle to a flaring muscular arse mounted on nice long legs. It would have been a real pleasure to see those legs and that ass driving his big dick into another man. And I suspected that Bill wouldn't mind, as he really liked being taken. But I knew I couldn't tell Joe that we'd like to see that, as Matt would almost certainly explode! He knew I fucked Bill, of course, but having a total "stranger" do it as an entertainment for us... that was probably going too far.
"No, I don't think that will be necessary... We do know about this lad, you know. But, tell me, he's still erect.... And all the other slaves that were running around were erect, too...."
"Yes, sir. Every morning we give them a shot of 'Erectaslav' - you may have seen it advertised on TV. It's some sort of Viagra derivative, specially marked for owners who like their slaves erect. One shot in the morning lasts all day, and the slave has an almost permanent erection. We think it makes them look better as they exercise - a good hard dick rammed out in front, rather than a load of flaccid dicks flopping around everywhere. There are a few problems, of course - we have to allow them longer piss breaks, as they have to get it down first, and that can be difficult. I think we're going to see more and more slaves going around permanently erect, it's becoming quite the fashion. I think I might even buy shares in the Erectaslav company"
Matt seemed close to tears, and I thought I needed to get him out of there before he did something foolish. I couldn't help thinking, though, that I might stop at a slave suppliers and buy some Erectaslav - it would be good to see Matt permanently erect, and would further teach him the humiliation that a master could bring to his slave.
"Thanks, Joe - most instructive. And this slave comes up for auction tomorrow?"
"Yes, sir. Have you finished looking at him?" I nodded, and Joe continued "Take him back and resume the Programme, sergeant!", and the instructor reached up, grabbed Bill's dick and almost pulled him off the plinth and dragged him out of the door. Both Matt and I saw Bill's tattooed ass as they went, and I wondered how he now felt about the cruel brand he'd done to me- if the government was happy with a tattoo, why should any owner need to resort to branding?
"Are there any other of the young slaves you're interested I, sirs, or would you like to look at some of the older stock? In the young set I've got someone who's almost 21 that might interest you - he's got the thickest dick I've ever seen and he's a real novelty! And I've got some guys in their mid-twenties who were taken as a group: all on a football outing together, all got drunk together and trashed a hotel room, and now all slaves together.... "
"No, thanks", I cut in, "Can you just show us out past Gunther's office, please?"
Gunther had the money ready for us, in bills of 100, so it wasn't too difficult to carry.
"See you tomorrow, then, for the auction?"
"YES!", Matt said, on the verge of hysteria. I was really worried, as I suspected Bill would go for far more than we could afford to pay, and then what?
I was more friendly. "Yes, we'll be here. But, tell me, we're new in town, and don't know the places to go.... Matt's tired, and will probably want an early night. But I'd surely appreciate knowing where a young single guy could go for an evening's.... evening's 'entertainment'."
"Well, sir, I don't have time now, but if you phone me later I'll get you a list...." Gunther was sounding interested.
"Well, could I drop by and collect it? What time do you close?"
"Six, sir."
"No, I'm Steve. So if I came past around six oh five, I might find you in the parking lot, with the list...."
"Yes, Steve... We always try to PLEASE our customers...."
We smiled at each other, and I almost had to pull Matt out of the door.
In the truck he raged at me "You fucker, Steve. Bill's in deep shit, and all you can think about is trying to arrange a date with that Gunther. Sure, he's a good looking guy, but we need to get Bill out. Don't go wasting your time sniffing after sex, when Bill's about to be sold off...."
"Shut the fuck up, Matt! You almost gave us away in there! And remember, you're a fucking slave, MY fucking slave! So get respectable in front of your owner, and drop those shorts! I want your bare ass on the leather of these seats, to remind you of what you are."
"Now, I went n, we have a problem. I'm sure Bill will fetch much more that we've got at the auction. So we need to find some other way. That's why I want to meet Gunther - he knows the system! And, of course, he looks like a good fuck, so it will be fun interrogating him."
We drove back in silence, and I insisted that Matt went through his exercises, as I knew it would help take his mind off things and stop him brooding. I enjoyed working out, too, even though my back did get one or two strange looks from the other guests - I suppose tattoos of all kinds were out of fashion for free men, as they were now being used as markers on slaves.
Later that afternoon Matt went to dress, and I thought he thought he was going to accompany me. I had to be quite harsh in getting him gagged and chained to the bed, before leaving to meet Gunther. On my way I stopped and bought a new pair of Jeans, deliberately selecting those pale, thin ones and buying two sizes too small - as I squeezed into them, I could see the seam down the back pulling into my ass crack and causing my ass to look really great, and the outline of my dick and balls were clearly visible up front. I didn't buy a belt, as I wanted my body to "flow" out of the top of the pale blue Jeans as it would emphasise my flat belly, slim hips, and deeply tanned skin. I also think that a single button holding tight Jeans closed is extremely sexy - another guy thinks all he has to do is flip it open, and you'll be there on display for him.
I couldn't decide on a top, but settled for a sleeveless T, so that my shoulders, pits and biceps were exposed. Again, by buying it two sizes too small, I got it so that it stretched tightly over my pecs, and it was too short - it couldn't tuck into my Jeans, and so as I walked along flashes of my body kept appearing.
The sales assistant was clearly impressed - although I didn't fancy him at all - and almost freaked out when I asked him to pack my sweat-soaked shorts and polo into the bag as I was going to wear the stuff I'd bought. He looked as if he wanted to plunge his nose into the fabric, and suck in the heady scent of my male odour.
I got stuck in traffic, and got really worried that my plan would fail because Gunther would leave, but as I pulled into the lot by "Slaves For You", there he was, pacing up and down. A good sign, I thought - he'd waited, even though he thought I might "no show", so he was clearly interested in me.
He did a kind of double take as I climbed out of my truck and he saw my body, not naked, but erotically displayed.
"Good evening, sir...."
"Gunther! Hey, call me Steve, remember?"
"Well, here's the stuff on bars...."
"Are any of them the kind of place where a single guy could go and.... and expect to meet a buddy for an evening....? I hate to drink alone."
"Well, Steve, several of the bars have hostesses, slaves...."
"No, Gunther, I want to spend an evening with free men.... Still, I don't suppose you know how lonely a strange town can be.... You've got all those slaves to fuck if you need companionship..."
"Sure, Steve. I can take any of the stock home if I want. But , like you, I want to spend time with free men. There is the Flagstaff Freedom Club, that doesn't allow slaves in at all.... But I've just remembered, it's members only."
"Are you a member, Gunther?"
"Sure, Steve."
"So why don't you let me buy you a drink on your way home, and you can sign me in? Then I might meet a guy, or guys, for an evening's fun..."
Gunther went to get into his car, but I said "No, ride with me." Of course, as I drove him off to the club, he was already starting to be in my power - how was he going to get back to his car?
The Flagstaff Freedom Club was one of those shed type places surrounded by a big parking lot, but with a fancy white-pillared portico. As we went through the doors into the lobby two signs caught my eye: "Owners are reminded that slaves must be left outside as they are not permitted on Club premises. The porter will be pleased to assist you if your slave needs special restraints", and "The Flagstaff Freedom Club - Proud to be preserving liberty for free men."
Inside it was dim, but there was a well-stocked bar and numbers of small tables and booths. Gunther went to one of the tables, and I sat opposite him. A waiter - a real one, not a slave - came up and took our orders - Gunther had a beer, but I stuck to mineral water.
"The prices are high here", Gunther explained, "As we use real waiters and have to pay wages. But why don't you have a beer?"
"No - I'll stick to water. I've got to keep in shape - I'm worried about my waist line."
"Surely not! You're the fittest looking man I've seen for a long time - even those farm slaves for the auction, who do nothing else but work out, don't look as good as you.
I deliberately raised my T up my chest, and stroked my hand across my belly, letting my little "treasure trail" of hair slip through my fingers. Gunther's eyes were round as saucers as he stared at my actions.
"Look", I said, "I can feel a faint layer of fat!" I reached out and took his hand, then ran it over my skin as I had done a moment ago. He was definitely interested! He shifted in his seat, and I knew he must be trying to adjust his pants to make himself more comfortable as his erection grew.
"No, Steve, there's no fat there.... You worry too much!"
"Yes, I do - I want to keep in good shape. You know, you see all those slaves, you must know a thing or two about bodies. Would you be able to advise me where I need to focus my workouts on? It's difficult looking in mirrors and so on - I'd really appreciate impartial advice..."
"Well, yes, I could. Would you like me to give you a thorough inspection? There are a few private rooms here..."
So we went towards the back, and into a carpeted room with a private bathroom. The room was empty of furniture, but as we walked in Gunther smiled and said "Feel the floor - all sprung - the whole place is like one giant bed!"
I stood there, then slid my hand down my belly and fiddled with the top button of my Jeans. I opened them, and pushed them down - Gunther was obviously delighted with my dick, which was of course erect and stood out at right angles to me as soon as the Jeans dropped.
"Look", I said, running my hand over my hips and flanks. "I'm sure there's the start of fat here..."
He came over, and repeated the feel that I had just done.
"Hmm... Nice......", he murmured, and then he reached down and started to peel my T upwards. His fingers brushed my nipples on the way, and as soon as the garment was off, he almost whispered "Steve, why not lose the jeans totally, so I can see you properly...."
So I did, bending down, facing away from him so he'd see my ass muscles in action and catch a glimpse of my hole, to take off my trainers, then kind of hopping around from one leg to another to peel the tight Jeans off my calves.
"Amazing...", Gunther was almost crooning. "But where did you get that brand? And that tattoo?"
"Oh, a college fraternity caper that went wrong! I'm stuck with both of them. Now...."
I moved my naked body closer to him, and my erection stabbed at his thigh. He couldn't resist taking it into his hands, and cupping my balls.
"Oh, yes...", I murmured.
Well, it was my bad luck, I suppose, that Gunther was a top, like me! I'd kind of planned to fuck him almost senseless, then question him more closely about auctions and so on. But as we kissed and caressed, it was clear that he wanted to dominate me and be in charge. I was much more powerful than he was and could easily have overridden him and fucked him, but I let him have his way - I took him up my ass, and it was just like the old days, when Matt fucked me. I didn't enjoy it at all, but it was a small sacrifice to make for Bill.
We lay together on the floor, covered in sweat, and I pulled him closer to me. "Oh, that was fantastic...."
"Yes, I am good at fucking ,even if I say so myself" (You would be the only one to say that, I thought, silently!).
"If only,,, If only Matt was as good as that."
"I thought you and the older guy were more than just buddies - you're proper fuck buddies, then, are you?"
"No, more than that... Look.... Well, I don't tell everyone this... But lying here like this, after that incredible sex... I'm ready to talk....". We both shuffled and moved slightly, to get our bodies closer together, as you do.
"Well, I'll always be grateful to Matt. After my folks died, he took me in - he's my uncle - and looked after me. Paid for college, everything."
"How old were you?"
"Well, that's the problem, about the same age as that slave he calls his "son", Bill. The slave's not really his son - he just thinks he could start again, looking after another young guy, as he looked after me. I'm so grateful to him for all he's done for me, but...."
"But?"
"...but, well, I'm kind of bored! I need to meet new guys, guys more my own age, guys who are really good with their dicks, guys who can take charge, like you. Don't get me wrong - Matt's fine in bed, but he is getting older, and you know what that means.... I can't leave him all alone... If only I could fix this slave problem I'd be free to go my own way, free to make new friends, free to find new fuck buddies....."
"So what's the problem with just buying the slave - then all the problems go away..."
"Well, most of Matt's money is tied up in a trust. He gets income, but no capital. So we don't have the cash. As you said, the 250K won't do. I guess we'll just go to the auction to say goodbye to the slave, then head out of here."
As I was saying this, I'd been gently stroking Gunther's body, fondling his balls, and playing with his nips, and he'd been responding in kind.
"Well, there is a way.... Owners can withdraw slaves from an auction, providing they pay Slaves For You the buyer's premium based on what the slave might reasonably have been expected to fetch.... And it is possible to put a slave through the books at a low price, with a note indicating that it was damaged property...."
"So if we said he was worth 300K, and gave Slaves For You 12K, they'd be happy? What would the government expect a "damaged" slave to sell for?"
"Well, let's say 100K. If you turn up tomorrow and give me 12K for the company and 100K for the government, I'll manage the paperwork and you can take the slave away. That will still leave you about 140K, even after you paid the tax.... Now, with that...."
"With that, I could stay on here.... Could I join this Club, I like it here.... Could you sponsor me....? "
Well, I won't bore you with how both Matt and I worried ourselves sick all night when I eventually did get back to the motel. Matt thought that Gunther would not go through with the deal, but I told him not to worry. I had discovered another way to control men - pretend they were fantastic lovers, and let them fuck me, even though all the time I was screaming Internally to take charge, and to let me fuck them.
End Of Part 21