HARBOUR MASTER, Part 6
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
The pain in my lungs was dreadful. I was freezing cold, and shivering. I lay on my back, but my head was turned to the side and I was puking up lake water.
As I started to recover a bit more, I saw my owner, Matt, standing over me. He, too was as naked as I was. I was struck by how alike our bodies were - he could have been my elder brother, almost.
He saw me looking at him, and grinned. "Close call there, Steve. I saw you bobbing up and down, and knew what you were doing. But when you didn't come up that last time, I thought you deserved to pass the test anyway, so I had to jump in and drag you out. Fucking freezing, that water, isn't it? And it's lucky for you I'm physically strong, and have passed the life saving exams, too!"
"So now you owe me your life twice - I saved you from the organ banks, and you'd be fish food if I hadn't done the rescue bit. I don't want puke all over me, though, so I'll save the kiss of gratitude for later."
If I could have, I'd have laughed. He'd only had to save me because of his mad idea of testing me by making me swim the fucking lake with a lethal load of chains around me. But I was at least alive, albeit I was now shaking so much with the cold that I might die of exposure at any minute.
He reached down, and hauled me to my feet, then half carried, half dragged me towards the cab of the pickup. I'm a heavy guy, as you know, and I could see his powerful muscles rippling as he struggled to get me moving - I was almost past being able to offer any assistance myself. Although our naked bodies rubbed together, I didn't feel any embarrassment - I was just past caring.
Somehow he got me into the cab, and got in beside me and started the engine and the heater. Gales of hot air were soon sweeping over us, and he leaned over and wrapped his arms around me to help me heat up.
"OK, Steve?"
"I guess so, boss."
"You know, if anyone came up and looked in, they'd think we were a couple of fags - two naked guys, clutching each other in the front seat of a pick-up at what's probably a local beauty spot. They'd never be able to tell which of us was the owner, and which of us was the slave - I'll get that fixed at some point, of course. But hold still for a bit...."
He'd got the pliers, and was undoing the wire holding the chains around me. They fell to the floor, with a metallic clank, and it made me feel better somehow.
"Hmm, I wonder if that's symbolic", he mused to himself. "I'm freeing you of the chains. You'll be able to start a new life tomorrow, and I'm ridding you of the chains binding you to your old life as a free man."
Fucking hypocrite, I thought, Who'd put the chains on in the first place?
We were both warm by now, and my teeth had mostly stopped chattering. He got out of the cab, and seemed to be completely unconcerned as I watched him pull on his clothes in the beam of the headlights.
"Don't sit there all night, you fucking idle slave! Get those clothes on I gave you, and let's be on our way."
I was so tired, that I could barely stagger around as I pulled on the shorts and the sweat shirt he'd given me. We drove off, in silence, back towards the interstate, and in the warmth of the cab, with the drone of the engine, I fell into a deep sleep - I was absolutely exhausted, and my body just had to recover.
I was shaken awake, and blearily looked around. We were in the forecourt of one of those cheap motel chains.
"I'm tired, too - rescuing drowning slaves is hard work! We can't make Seatown tonight, so we'll rest up. Follow me."
We went into the lobby, and the slut of a girl behind the desk looked at us.
"Single or double occupancy?" No "good evening" or anything, just that.
"Single", my owner said.
"What about the other one? Do you want a room too?"
I went to reply, but Matt said "No. He's in my room."
"It's ten dollars extra for double occupancy."
"It's not double occupancy. This is my slave. He'll just sleep on the floor."
"Well, only use one towel."
"Sure - the slave always dries himself on my used towel. Saves me a fortune on laundry", Matt said jokingly. He handed over a credit card, and we went along to the room.
It was pretty standard - bathroom on the left, and two big beds. Matt didn't say anything, but dropped his clothes onto the floor, and strode into the bathroom saying "Fucking lake water - it smells vile all over me. I need to shower."
I heard a big stream of piss hit the water in the lavatory, then the shower running, and finally Matt strode out, drying his hair with a towel and otherwise totally naked - he didn't seem to mind at all that I could see his whole body.
"You, too, Steve. Get in that shower - I don't want you smelling the place out."
In spite of my tiredness, the hot water worked wonders and I felt real life creaking back into my exhausted body. As I got out and reached for a towel, Matt was there and handed me the soaking mass he'd used. "You heard what the lady said - only one towel! You're costing me enough tonight already, and I don't want to be hit with another ten bucks on my credit card tomorrow."
I hated the idea of drying myself with a used towel, especially one that was still warm from where it had been on Matt's body. So I just stammered "Thanks, boss.. Ill just stand here and dry naturally."
He went into a towering rage almost immediately. "That's the problem with you young slave boys - you don't listen! What did I tell you, about obeying orders as I give them? If I'd wanted you to stand there shivering whilst the water drained off you, that's what I'd have told you to do. But I told you to use my towel to dry off, so that's what you'll fucking well do. Or is there something wrong with a towel that I, your owner, has used?"
He looked at me for a moment, and went on, calmer now, "Yes, that's what it is, isn't it? You're so fucking fastidious that you don't like touching things your master has used. Well, my slave has to live and work in close contact with me, so you'd better get used to it!"
He snatched the towel back off me, and threaded it between his legs. Holding one end in front and one end behind, he kind of see-sawed it backward and forwards between his legs, as if he was drying his ass. I could see his dick and balls bouncing up and down on the towel as it moved backwards and forwards ,and knew it must be sliding over his hole. Then he stopped, pulled the towel free, and handed it to me.
"Now dry your face."
"Please, boss..."
"Dry your face, slave. I want to see you use this towel that I've just used to dry my ass being used to dry your face. Do you have a problem with that? It's only the thought of it, you know - I've just showered, so my body is squeaky clean. But even if it wasn't, so what? You should be proud to take on the scent of your master. You're just inhibited by your free man upbringing, and haven't yet learned to think like a slave, who's proud to use his master's towel, if that's what his master wants him to do."
I suppose he was right. It was a silly taboo, after all, as it was perfectly clean. I moved the towel towards my face, then took the plunge - I thrust my face deep into its moist centre, and breathed in. There was a strange muskiness about it, a dilute form of the scent in his sweat shirt. I scrubbed at my face, then, as he watched used it to wipe the moisture off the rest of me - it was wringing wet by the time I'd finished, but I was now only damp, rather than wet.
He went into the bedroom, and I followed him. He threw back the covers, and slipped between the sheets.
I went towards the other bed, but he snapped
"Weren't you listening? Or are you just fucking stupid? One towel, one bed! Get in here!"
As he said this, he kind of threw his arm across the bed, indicating that I was to climb in beside him. I was so fucking tired, I no longer cared. I just crawled in and pulled the sheet over me, and fell almost instantly asleep.
I suppose I hadn't slept properly for days - the worry about the organ banks had kept me awake, as I've told you. And after the sheer exhaustion of my race, and my swim, my body was just past caring. I didn't dream, I just slept. Until I woke with a start, and a stinging pain on my ass.
I was lying on my belly in the bed, with one leg straight out, one leg bent at right angles, and my head cradled on my arms. The stinging pain in my ass was because Matt was standing over me, holding his trainer, which he'd just used to hit me with, hard, on my exposed ass!
"Rise and shine, tiger. A new day. Your first full day with your new owner! Get up, boy, and pull those clothes on - we don't have time for you to shower, and you're still reasonably sweet from last night."
As he was speaking he was pulling on his own jeans and T-shirt, taking a cautious sniff at the armpits as he did so. I wanted to get up as he'd told me, but was acutely aware that I'd got a morning hard-on, and it was only concealed from him by my body on top of it.
"I've been reading this book", he told me conversationally, "Called 'The Ownership and Management Of Slaves. I've told you I never expected to be able to afford a slave, especially not a young, healthy one like you. But just as some folks like reading books about cars they can't afford, I was interested to read a book that's an owners' manual for slaves. It says in there that if the master allows the slave to sleep in his bed, the slave should be properly appreciative and should ensure he's always available to service his owner's requirements. That means, the book says, that the slave doesn't go to sleep before his master does, and wakes up before his master does, so that if his master likes to wake to a fuck, the slave is ready. Now yesterday was an exceptional day, so I'll forgive you this time. But don't ever let me catch you asleep when I wake up in future. You're a young, fit guy, and you ought to be able to get by on slightly less sack time than me. Just remember!"
"What the fuck are you waiting for?", he demanded. "I told you to get up and get dressed."
When I still hesitated, he flamed "That's it! You must be a fucking stupid pig-ignorant shit! It doesn't seem to have any effect on you, whatever I say. I wanted to be a considerate owner, but you don't seem to want to obey. There seems to be no other way but to beat it into you, and we'll stop at the next town and see if they have a public whipping post - perhaps a few lashes, and real pain, will drive home the lessons you don't want to learn any other way."
I got out of bed, and stood there in front of him, my dick reaching for the sky. I was blushing furiously. "Please, boss... I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just.... Well, this!" - I pointed at my massive erection.
Matt broke out into a smile. "Oh, that. What, are you embarrassed about the size of it? Looks pretty good to me, about the same size as I throw - you've certainly got nothing to be ashamed of. All men have them, you know. They're perfectly natural. I'd have thought a young, virile guy like you would have had them every few minutes!"
"Yes, boss... But, you know.... I don't like showing it...."
"Steve, just learn, will you? Firstly, a whole lot of guys saw you erect yesterday, and saw you shoot that magnificent load of cum. So why be embarrassed now? And, anyway, you're a slave. It's permitted for slaves to be erect in public, to piss in the streets, and do all sorts of other things that are illegal for free men. Your problem is that you still don't think of yourself as a slave. And it's particularly stupid of you to be embarrassed by it in front of me, your owner. I own that dick of yours, remember? So what's wrong in me seeing it, or even sitting and staring at it, if that's what turns me on."
"I should have expected it though, I suppose. 'The Care And Ownership Of Slaves' has a chapter about acclimatising the newly-enslaved to their new status quickly, so they can start to work properly for their new owners as soon as possible. They have a number of useful suggestions for emphasising your new status to you, and I think that as soon as we're back in Seatown, we'll do one or two of them. One of them, of course, is to make the slave appear naked in public as much as possible in the first few weeks - we could do that now, I suppose - so you could be walking through the restaurant naked this morning, with all the nice ladies and gentlemen looking at you, unless you get those clothes on quickly Now, do it!"
I recognised that he was right, and I suppose it is silly, really. After all, all men do have erections. Why should a guy be ashamed of it, and have to conceal it from other guys? Just in case he wasn't joking, I quickly pulled on the tiny shorts and the sweat, and followed him out of the room.
We went into the restaurant next door, and Matt said "Two" to the hostess. As we followed her to the table, a big siren sounded. The hostess turned, and looked at us, then, sensing Matt was in charge, said "Excuse me, sir, but is that your slave with you?"
"Yes, is there a problem?"
"I'm afraid there is, sir. His locator chip triggered our automatic slave alarms, as we don't allow slaves to eat here in the main restaurant. Whilst you're eating he can be fed at the kitchen door - you can order what he's to be fed in here, of course, or just take the standard slave breakfast - most owners choose that option as, combined with any of our standard menu choices for you, it's only a dollar fifty."
"Sounds good to me - the standard for him. Slave - go around the back, and when you've chowed, wait by the pick up. And make sure you piss and so on when you've finished - there's a long drive ahead of us."
He didn't even wait to hear me acknowledge him - he just assumed I'd do it. Scarlet with embarrassment, as so many of the other diners had heard these exchanges, I just retraced my steps through the tables, and made my way around the back. There weren't any slaves where we lived, as I've told you, as there wasn't a lot of money around, so I'd never really been aware on these sort of discriminations between men and slaves before - in a way, it was more shocking than almost everything I'd learned so far about sex with slaves.
I was the only slave to be fed, it seemed, and the short-order cook shoved a bowl of the same sort of stuff as I'd been fed at the dealers towards me. There wasn't anywhere to sit down, or anything, so I just had to stand there and spoon it down. I wanted something to drink, and they just pointed to a tap on the wall, and I stood there, bent over, trying to drink from a very awkward height.
When I went into the rest rooms, there was another example of this discrimination - as well as the obligatory split into "men" and "women", these rest rooms had a third category, "slaves", together with an official looking notice on the wall: "Owners are not permitted to allow their slaves use of facilities for men and women. The management has provided a special slave facility, that all slaves must use. WARNING: Slave detectors in operation - if the alarm sounds, call a member of management. Owners will be fined if their slaves are detected in the incorrect facility."
I was going to go into the men's room, as it seemed to me I looked OK in the shorts and sweat, but I remembered the alarm inside the restaurant and thought they might have installed the same thing here to detect my locator chip, so I shuffled in to the "slave" facility instead.
There was absolutely no privacy - just a row of three holes in the floor along one wall. I was adept at using these by now, and I was desperate for a crap as well as a piss, so I dropped my shorts, stood in front of one of the holes, and squatted down. They'd taught us to reach back and pull our ass cheeks apart, too, and as I was shaved there as well, I'd found that it was usually not necessary to "clean up" afterwards - just as well, as the slave facility wasn't provided with any toilet tissue. Just as I was finishing, another slave came in - a female! She hardly glanced at me as I tried desperately to pull up my shorts, and went and squatted over one of the holes herself - I could see that her owner clearly didn't let her wear any underwear, as all she had to do was hitch up he skirt.
As I've told you, I was amazed to see female slaves on sale at the County Fair, as these were much less common even that male slaves, but it had never struck me that we would have to use the same facilities like this, entirely without any provision for modesty or privacy. Suppose she'd come in a few seconds earlier, when I was in the middle of doing my business? I suppose it was another way of making slaves understand that they are no longer free men, but just some sort of lower life, where different standards apply.
It didn't take long for the female slave to finish, as I think she was just pissing, and she got up and walked over to me.
"Hullo, big boy...."
"Uh... Hi..."
She reached out, and felt for my cock through my thin shorts. I'm not used to women taking the initiative like this - all my life I've had to chase girls and try really hard to get inside their pants. This slave seemed completely shameless and wanton, and she stroked me and groped at me, trying to feel my dick through the thin fabric. I did the only thing any guy would do in the circumstances, as you'd expect - I got a massive erection; and she smiled at me.
"Quick then, while our masters are finishing their breakfasts"
"Quick...?"
"You are some dumb country boy, aren't you - quick, fuck me: I can feel you've got a good piece of meat there - get it up me, now!"
"No... I... Well.... I don't know you...."
"This isn't some high school prom, you know. Us slaves have to take what bit of pleasure we can, when we can. You look like a strong young buck, and I want a real dick inside me, rather than the shrivelled up old thing of my master's.... Come on...."
She'd got hold of my hips, and sort of moved back against the wall as she was talking. Before I could do anything, she'd pulled my shorts down off my hips, and my cock had sprang out.
She raised her skirt and pulled me towards her. "No... I....."
"Are you one of those slaves who doesn't know how to do it with a woman?"
"No! I've got kids...."
"So your master breeds from you.... So you know what to do.... Hurry up....!"
Actually, the closeness of a woman, having my dick out, and the sight of her slit had all turned me on, and I pushed forward and started to fuck her. It was just like being back in High School actually - a quick fumble behind the bleachers, and then taking one of the class slags up against the wall. I soon forgot the surroundings, forgot everything, as my excitement mounted and my strong thighs and ass pumped me in and out of her.
She'd thrown her arms around my neck and had her legs wrapped around my waist to make it easier for me, and I was really pounding away when suddenly there was a great shout..
"You dirty young fucker - get out of that slave... NOW!" I almost dropped the woman in surprise, and turned to see Matt standing there at the doorway, a look like thunder on his face.
"I said STOP THAT!", he screamed. "Get over here at once!"
You know how it is - just as it's difficult to stop pissing in mid flow, when your sex drive is running on high you just can't stop fucking, can you? There's no way you an just stop, especially when you're about to cum.... Which I did, explosively. I moaned out loud, and my legs stopped thrusting, and I just stood there with her still impaled on my dick, my breath coming in huge gasps.
Matt strode over to me, and almost pulled me off her. "You disgusting slave - I can't let you out of my sight, can I, without you starting to rut?.... And I told you to stop, and you carried on."
"Boss, I.... It wasn't my fault.. She...."
"Stop blaming other people, slave, that's all I ever hear form you... 'It's not my fault I'm a slave', 'I can't find a buyer', 'She made me fuck her'.... Take some responsibility, for Christ sake!"
I'd pulled out now, and my dick was shining in the light as it was covered in her cunt juice and my cum. I was all embarrassed and confused, and went to pull up my shorts which were bunched around my ankles.
"No! Give me those! I don't want them all covered in that slave's juices!"
I handed the shorts to Matt. The girl had pulled her skirt down, and was looking not at all concerned.
"Where's your master?", Matt demanded of the girl.
"Eating breakfast, sir."
"Right! Come with me, so I can tell him what you've been up to."
"He knows, sir."
"What?"
"I'm a bed slave, sir, for my master. But he's eighty years old, and finds it difficult to fully satisfy me.
When we're travelling, he requires me to find and fuck slaves, as he says it takes the animal lust from me, and it means I'm more docile that night. So I was just obeying my master's orders - I came in and found your slave, and he's a real stud, and I fucked him."
"Please don't blame your slave, sir, he was just standing there and I forced myself on him. He's so strong and virile that I don't expect he had any chance to resist me, as once I go for a man, they are usually overwhelmed when their sex drive kicks in. There's no harm done, after all, as he's only shot a load of cum, and a big buck like that will regenerate within half an hour....". She was smiling at me as she said this.
"Back to the pick-up, slave", Matt snapped at me.
I went to say goodbye to the girl - I didn't know what to do, really - say "Thanks", or what.... But Matt just dragged me off, and as we left I saw her start back toward the restaurant.
Matt seemed to be in some sort of suppressed fury as we strode across the car park. My dick was swinging around, and I knew that everyone must be looking at me. Matt threw me a tissue from a box on the dash when we got back to the pick up "Get that dick of yours clean - I don't want to have to drive with the scent of that bitch stinking the place out! I ought to make you ride in the back, but we're taking the Interstate and I want to go fast."
I made an ineffectual attempt to clean my dick, and bits of tissue broke off as they got wet and stuck to my shaft.
"Jesus Christ, slave - can't you do anything right? Go back around to the kitchens, and get them to give you some water."
Matt sat back in the seat, and turned on the radio. "And be quick about it - run! If you're not back in three minutes, I'll thrash you tonight, so help me!"
I ran across the parking lot, and even more of the patrons stopped to stare at me now. I remembered the tap I'd drunk from so I didn't have to ask in the kitchen, and stood there with my dick underneath it trying to clean myself a bit. The water was icy cold, and it splashed all over my naked thighs and legs as I went at it. As I finished, I turned and saw the slave girl standing where I had been, by the door, eating a bowl of the slave food I'd been given.
"So long, big boy", she said cheerily.
"Look... "
"Don't worry - you were a good fuck. I hope your master wasn't too cross."
I wanted to say more, but what was there to say, really? And I remembered what Matt had said about three minutes, so simply ran back to the pick up.
Matt looked down at me, at my wet pubes and legs, and handed me my shorts. I pulled them on, jumped into the front seat, and we roared off.
"If you ever fuck anything without my permission again", Matt began, "Whether you instigated it or they did, man or woman, I'll take you to the nearest doctor's office and have you castrated. Is that clear?"
"Boss, I'm sorry..."
"Shut the fuck up! Slaves aren't 'sorry'. Good slaves don't offend their masters in the first place."
"OK, boss. But she did come on to me first, you know...."
"You don't get it, do you, slave? You don't understand that you are not supposed to make choices. Before you were enslaved, if you'd gone to a club or something and some slag had come on to you, you could have decided to go along with it and rammed her as much as you like, until your balls dropped off, as far as anyone would care. And you were free to chase after women, and try to get inside their pants, if that was the way you operated. But you're a slave now, and slaves only do what they're ordered to. That other slave was obeying her master's orders, and coming on to any piece of slave meat she saw, as you heard. But you should have known that it wasn't up to you to decide whether to go along with it: you should have asked me if you could!"
"Boss, I'm sorry... But, as she said, after all, it was only a load of cum..."
"Don't you listen? You should have asked me, not made a decision, even if it was probably one where your dick dragged you along and that feeble brain of yours only contributed 5%! You must ask me - not decide. Suppose I'd wanted to watch - suppose I like porn and wanted to see those big thighs of yours pumping your dick into her? Suppose I wanted to make a deal with her owner, to let you fuck her before he does, in exchange for a share in any kids she has? Suppose I'd rather you fucked a young slave boy, as I don't like the idea of a slave of mine fucking a woman? You don't know the answers to questions like that, do you?
You didn't ask my permission, so I was deprived of the choice about how you use your body."
I began to see there was more to this slavery thing than I'd thought.
"Anyway", Matt continued, "Be careful! If you continue to be headstrong and wilful, I will have to have you calmed down, and you know what that means, don't you?"
"Yes, boss."
We drove along on silence for another couple of hours, then turned off the Interstate and went along state highways, until there was a sign off on to a County road, saying "Seatown 10".
The place sure did seem to be isolated - we went across a couple of ranges of low hills, until we dropped down into a small town that straddled a small river leading into the sea. The shore on one side of the river had a sandy beach, and on the other side there was a stone wall, with a broad paved area behind it with a number of small buildings behind that.
We headed for one of those buildings, and parked in a small lot that said "Town Of Seatown. Reserved Parking For Members Of Seatown Mariners' Society." Matt got out, and I followed him along the pavement, which in fact was a quay I now saw - there were steps leading down to the water at intervals, and bollards that boats could be tied up to.
In my sweat and shorts I felt less out of place than I had before - even though it was only March, the sun was quite warm and there were a number of people strolling around dressed for what I guess you might call "seaside vacations out of season" - well cut shorts, sweaters, that sort of thing. A number of guys were also around, mostly in jeans and Ts like Matt, but some in shorts, too. Matt knew all of these, and stopped and chatted briefly to them, although he never introduced me and I just had to stand there, silent. Listening to their conversation, that ranged from the weather, through the state of the sea, to "business", I gathered that there was a lively fishing trade here - mainly skippers who took loads of rich anglers out for deep-sea fishing, but some commercial catching of lobsters and scallops, too. It was a real working port, although not for cargo or anything, and a "holiday place" for the affluent middle classes from the cities that were about an hour and a half away.
Matt stopped, and pointed out a line of small white boats floating about fifty yards from shore. "Those are all mine", he told me, "And that's what you'll be helping me with. I hire those out by the hour to holiday makers and fishermen. We moor them out there as there's not room at the quay, and, anyway, we get quite different levels of tide here - when it's right out, they're barely floating out there. That's one string to my bow. I also run a service that 'does anything' for the owners of the big boats moored further out - they generally only use them on weekends, but I'll get things fixed if they're broken, provision them, row the owners out when they arrive... All that sort of stuff, so that an owner can just come down here and enjoy his boat. I don't make a lot of money, but then, I like my work, and I meet a lot of nice people."
We stopped in front of one of the small buildings, and Matt pulled out a key and unlocked the door. On the window it said "Matt James Marine - Boats For Hire By The Hour, Or Day. General Services For Boat Owners." Inside, there was just a counter, a couple of chairs, and a phone.
"See, simple, isn't it? I don't need anything fancy. It's mainly a cash business, and everything's to hand.
It's going to be great now I've got you - I used to have to rely on a succession of school kids on vacation, and the occasional college student - but they mostly didn't like the work, and once I'd got one trained, they'd leave. I needed two or three, to keep up with demand, but with you able to swim so well, I shan't need anyone else."
"What's the work, boss?"
"Well, when someone wants to hire a boat, it needs to be bought up to the quay. One of the kids had to row out, then tow it back, and it all takes time, as does taking the boat back to the moorings in the evening. But with you, you can just swim out and bring the boat back - much faster: I'll be able to give a better service to the customers, with less waiting. And if one of the owners of the big boats further out wants his skiff fetched back, it'll be much quicker for you to swim out there and row it back, rather than having to get one kid to row another one out, then fiddle around while they swap boats, then having two boats rowed back. You'll be spending a lot of time in the harbour, and it will be a good healthy life, too - all that swimming!"
"But boss, isn't the water rather cold - I don't think I can swim in a wet suit..."
"Oh, don't worry about that! You won't have to swim in a wet suit, that's not necessary. This isn't the Arctic Ocean you know, just the Atlantic. The water's never much below 40, and provided you swim fast, you'll keep warm!"
As he was speaking, a couple came in and asked about renting a boat for a few hours. Matt spent a couple of minute telling them about the charges, and asking them if they'd ever used a small boat with an inboard engine. They all seemed happy, so he turned to me and said "Right, Steve. Here's your chance to start your new job.... Swim out and bring back the boat from the end of the line."
We all went outside, and Matt looked at me, and held out his hand in a gesture that told me he wanted me to hand him my sweat, so I did. There was no point in prolonging the agony, was there? I am a good swimmer, and I can dive, too, so I just ran across the quay and dived in, and kicked out for the row of Matt's boats. The cold of the sea almost took my breath away as my body hit it, but I'd done a perfect running dive, and as my head broke the surface I seemed to be almost a third of the way towards the boats. I kicked out and went into a fast crawl, and soon got to them. As I swam along, I revelled in the use of my body: I might be a slave, but only I would know the pleasure of swimming like this. It was a bit fiddly to tread water and to try to unhitch one of the boats from the mooring buoy, but I soon did it, then kind of pushed it back towards the quay, holding on to it with my hands and driving us forwards with my powerful legs. About half way it got shallower, so I put my legs down and just strode forward, pushing the boat in front of me.
I got back to the quay, and lightly ran up the steps and handed the painter to Matt.
It was only then that I started to get cold - the sun had gone in, and the icy water ran over my body really chilling me. The wet satin clung to me and dribbled more water down my legs, and I started to rub myself to try to get warm. The man and woman client stood there looking at me - actually, I suppose I was good to look at - big, strong, muscled guy in tiny, wet satin shorts, standing there half shivering! The satin clung to me, and I knew they could kind of see my ass as it plastered itself to my skin, and the outline of my dick was plainly visible.
"Do you need a towel, or something?", the woman asked.
Before I could reply, Matt cut in "No, mam. This is a new slave, and he's just not used to the sea properly yet. Do forgive him for hopping around and making a spectacle of himself like that - you're his first customer, and he doesn't know how to act properly yet!"
The couple kind of shrugged, and climbed down the steps and chugged away in the motor boat.
"Good on you, slave!", Matt told me. "Perhaps you do have some sense after all. I didn't tell you to push the boat back, and I thought you might have climbed in and started the motor - don't do that, will you, as you'll drip water onto the seats, and that pisses off the customers."
There were only a few customers that day, and I got wet about eight times and stood there trying to keep warm - I found that if I "planed" the water off my with my hands it helped, and it was also good to stand in Matt's little office looking out of the window, as what little sun there was felt warmer through the glass. If I ever did succeed in getting completely dry, I was allowed to put the sweat on, and somehow I got through the day without getting frostbite!
When Matt locked up for the night we walked along the quay only a very short distance before he opened the door of a tiny house tucked in-between some of the semi-industrial buildings: downstairs there was just one room, with a couch, a TV and stereo, a desk with a PC, and a kitchen counter running half way across, behind which there was a modest kitchen.
Matt led the way upstairs, where there was again a single room with a big double bed standing low on the floor, and a bathroom that was only half concealed - a bath, a big glass shower cabinet, and a lavatory.
"This is 'home', Steve.", Matt told me. "You notice I'm calling you Steve, as when we're here, it will be just like a couple of guys who are house mates. You can call me Matt here - providing there aren't guests, of course. And you can talk freely, and do more or less as you like - providing of course you don't argue with me, or disobey any of my orders. I'd like us to me more like buddies in this place, rather than owner and slave."
"Thanks, Matt."
"Good. Now, strip off and shower whilst I make dinner." As he was talking, he was rummaging in the linen basket, found some things, and tossed them onto the bed.
"I'm not going to buy you special slave clothes, as we're about the same size and, as you can see, space is a bit limited here. So you'll usually wear the clothes I wore yesterday: that will cut down on the washing and ironing! Here's a T and the boxers I had on then - wash the salt off you, get dressed, and come on down."
It was the first time I'd had a proper shower for a long time: hot water, soap, and, more importantly, the luxury of being able to stand there and wash myself for as long as I wanted without other men watching me.
I could have gone on for ever, but Matt appeared outside the cubicle "Hey - although we're buddies, I have to pay the bills here! Get that fucking shower off, it's costing me a fortune!"
He stood and watched me as I dried, and I used the damp towel lying on the floor, which I guessed must have been from the previous day - Matt noticed, I'm sure, and didn't day anything.
He let me have the same steak, salad and a baked potato as he had, although he made me drink water and I wasn't given one of his beers, then I had to clear away the dishes and wash them, and we finally both sat on the couch in front of the TV.
"So, Steve, your first day. It will get busier as the season starts, and it's always busy at weekends. But provided you work hard, it will be a good life for you. In fact, I rather envy you - you get to swim, to stand around, and to exercise, whilst I have to worry about the money, the taxes, the bills.... It will be like an endless childhood for you - all that good healthy exercise, and no worries!"
I decided not to interrupt him and tell him that it was cold, and fucking hard work!
He didn't let me choose any of the TV programmes - don't even ask me if I liked what was on! He's one of those "channel hoppers", who clicks the remote about every 10 seconds, so it was really hard to watch anything, really. But I didn't care - I felt that at least with Matt as my owner I was unlikely to get sold to the organ banks, or have my balls cut off!
At about 10, Matt said "Enough! I like an early start, so it's early to bed."
I was kind of expecting that I'd have to sleep on the couch, as it was the only place except for the bed, but after a few minutes Matt called down "Get your ass up here, Steve - I'm waiting to turn the lights out!"
I climbed the stairs, and Matt was sprawled out in the big bed. "Get in!", he said.
I pulled the T shirt over my head, and went to get into the bed - it wasn't as big as that in the motel last night, and with Matt's big body half across it, there didn't seem to be much room.
"Get those boxers off! What do you think you're doing?"
"Matt.. I thought that if we were going to share this bed, I should leave them on...."
"Are you some sort of wimp? Real men go to bed totally naked. What do you need boxers on for? For modesty? For warmth? For protection? Forget the modesty - I've seen it all before, haven't I? And, anyway, I own you, so what have you got to be modest about? Warmth - two warm bloodied guys together - no problem. Protection - from what? So get naked."
I dropped the boxers, and slid into the bed, keeping well to the edge so as not to touch Matt. But he shuffled across the bed, and spooned up behind me. The sheet underneath my hips felt kind of stiff and bristly, and I moved a bit.
"Don't mind the dried cum on the sheet", Matt remarked casually. "I usually change them tomorrow, so there's quite a build up now." I had to suppress a little shudder as he said this - it was bad enough feeling it against me, but to have a guy admit there was cum on his sheets - ugh! (It only shows how I wasn't thinking correctly - where do you expect to find dried cum, after all? If a guy can't leave cum all over his bed, where can he leave it?)
He moved even closer to me, and I could feel his dick pressing at my ass crack, and his hot breath, as he breathed in and out, was on my neck. One arm reached across my ribs, and his big hand rested on my flat stomach. He moved it around a bit, then idly twisted his fingers in and out of my pubic hair.
"There, Steve. That's what I mean - just two ordinary guys together, sharing a house. No 'owner', no 'slave' - we might be two guys anywhere in the country who need to share a house."
"Do you have enough room?", he then asked. "You're awfully close to the edge!"
He moved away from me, and I gave a little inward sigh. "Come on over here", he said.
"No, I'm fine, thanks."
"Hey, Steve: I know we're buddies here and everything, but remember what I said about direct orders? I said come on over here!"
So I moved cautiously towards the centre of the bed.
"Turn around and face me."
I did as he said, and then his arm snaked out and kind of pulled us close together so his face was right in mine, and I felt certain I could feel his dick against mine.
"Now, Steve, if we're going to be buddies, you've got to stop being so fucking shy! Now, tell me, what do you normally do before you go to sleep at night - and the answer isn't 'say my prayers!'?"
"Nothing, Matt."
"How old are you again, Steve?"
"24."
"Well, you must be the only 24 year old guy in the world who doesn't jerk himself off before he goes to sleep! So come on, we're buddies together, remember? House mates? Doing just the normal stuff that any two guys do? So why aren't you jerking off?"
I was blushing furiously. I was so close to him, the presence of his body was so powerful, his scent, his breath....
"Matt - I didn't think that guys sharing a house did that."
"Look, Steve, all guys jerk each other off when they have the opportunity. Didn't you have a special buddy at school? Didn't you ever go camping with the scouts? Weren't there 'sleep overs' with the neighbours when you were kids? Surely you've jerked off with other guys?"
"No, Matt."
"Well, the house rules here are that jerking of is compulsory before going to sleep - I don't like waking up in the night with a raging hard on, or getting stabbed by the hard on of the guy in bed with me. So get started!"
I reached down and felt for my dick, and started to jerk. Actually, I was erect, and as soon as my foreskin slid over my head a few times, I almost forgot Matt lying there, until his hand closed over mine.
"Good boy, Steve.... Now let me have a go."
His hand moved up and down my shaft, and I had this unbelievable sensation - a mixture of so many things. Sure, it was sexy, but I was embarrassed at having a guy do this to me, and scared: he was my owner and I knew he had an unpredictable temper, and I worried that I'd "do something wrong".
He was almost crooning at me now, breathing in and out as his hand slid up and down my cock "There, big boy... That's a big fat cock.... Let me stroke it..... Feel my hot hand on your warm dick..."
As he slid his hand up and down, I started to leak pre-cum and he went on "That's right, Steve... I can feel your slime now... Feel how my hand is sliding on your dick.... Feel my fingers stroking your dick head...."
All of this was incredibly erotic, and the touch of his hands against me was really turning me on. I started to moan, gently: it surprised me, as it wasn't something voluntary - just a low moan, from deep down somewhere inside me. My breathing started to synchronise with his, and I felt the pressure building up in my balls.
"Come on, Steve... I know you want to shoot... Come and shoot your cum all over me.... Come on, Steve.... You can do it... Come and shoot...."
My moans had turned to little cries of "Yes, Yes, Yes....", and then, like a great fountain being turned on, my dick started to pump big loads of cum. We were so close together that I knew that it must have hit Matt's body, and that his hand must be covered in it.
"I'm sorry, Matt... "
"For what?"
"For shooting over you... I'll go and get a towel..."
"Don't be such an idiot! If you're jerking a guy off, you expect to get covered in his cum. It's all part of the fun, and entirely natural! What's wrong with it?"
"But it's my cum..."
"Sure - perfectly natural! All guys produce it, and we all know what it's like. So unless you're very different from all the other men on the planet, your cum is perfectly normal, perfectly wholesome, and something that two guys should be proud to share together."
"Now", he went on. "Your turn."
I was going to ask him what he meant, but his hand, slimy with my cum, grasped mine and he moved it down and placed it on his dick. I felt it warm in my palm, and as I held it, it started to grow and go hard. I'd never touched a guy's dick before, not before I had to kiss his yesterday (was it only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago!). And I'd never actually held a dick at all, and certainly not one that was rapidly going hard!
"Come on, Steve.... I want to get to sleep, and I need to cum.... Get to work!"
Cautiously, I ran my hand lightly up and down his shaft, then started to jerk him in earnest. It felt funny, doing it "the wrong way around" - you're used to doing it with your hand on the same side as your dick, aren't you, not to a dick lying opposite you! And it was odd not to have a foreskin to slide up and down - just the shaft, the tight skin, and his big meaty flange. I guess it was lucky there was so much cum around, as my hand slid easily over him, and it started to feel really good - warm, and somehow 'masculine', the sort of thing one guy would naturally want to do to another. I went on and on, and Matt started to moan, then he shouted "Yes, I'm cumming...", and I felt a spurt of something moist lash out and hit my belly.
I carried on gently stroking his dick, but Matt kind of squirmed away, and half in pain, half laughing, said "Enough, Steve! Fucking leave me alone... Oh....
HEY! Don't you know that some guys can't bear to be touched once they've cum? If you don't, learn it soon!"
I let go, and we lay there for a moment or so, then he pulled me close to him again. His right leg pushed a bit and forced itself in-between mine, then he bent his knee so that his thigh was pushed up into my ass crack. His arms went around me, and he pulled me so close to him that our dicks were now pushed together, and our cum-soaked bodies were in intimate contact.
"See.. That's what a couple of buddies sharing a house do... .and a whole lot of other stuff, too, that we'll get on to later in the week. Was that OK for you?"
"Yes... Fantastic, actually."
"And you've never done this with a guy before?"
"No."
"So you had to rely on that wife of yours to jerk you off..."
"No way! She hated to touch my dick, or even look at it. All she'd do was to let me fuck her, and I had to insist on that most of the time."
"You poor guy - you've never known the fun, the comradeship, the sheer pleasure of proper man to man sex?"
"I guess not..."
"Well, perhaps slavery is the best thing that's happened to you in your 24 years! Now, get to sleep!"
End Of Part 6