Passing

PASSING A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk@yahoo.com)

Part Fourteen Dave's training continues. The table are turned. A partnership.

....."I told you to remain silent. And you need a lesson in obedience, Dave." And I struck him twice on each buttock with the heavy thrasher, really enjoying the loud "slap" sound as the blade hit home.

The blows had done one thing, anyway, as it had made him go quiet. I moved to the rear of him and ran my hand over his buttocks, feeling the heat starting to radiate from where he had been struck, and seeing the skin turn a deep red.

"Now, Dave, you see what happens to unruly slaves? I'd advise you to remain silent as I enjoy seeing you masturbated by Jason. When you're enslaved you'll have to get used to things like that, you know."

I motioned at Jason to start, and he pulled Dave's cock back from between his thighs and began to stroke it. I thought about having Jason suck Dave first, but decided that simple manual stimulation would be somehow more humiliating for Dave, especially with his cock pulled back like that.

As Jason worked away I said casually to Dave "I can see one more thing that will have to happen to you as a slave, Dave. Your crack and asshole - all that hair. A slave has it smooth to make it less messy when his owner fucks him, as you assuredly will be. And your balls, too - when I feel a slave's balls I like them to be smooth to the touch. In fact, we might have this done now...."

"Please...", Dave said calmly and quietly. "Enough of this. You've made your point. This is how a slave gets treated. I understand."

"So you accept that you're going bust, or cheating the Revenue, or both?"

"No...."

I slapped his bum again - not with the thrasher this time, but my bare palm. It didn't hurt me at all, but caused Dave to yelp - I suppose even a bare hand hurts on a tenderised rump. "So you still haven't listened to reason? Well I'll have no option but to continue to save you from yourself, then. And unless you want to tell me I'm right, I'd advise you to remain quiet and properly respectful. When you're a slave you'll have to call your owner Master' or Sir' and perhaps you'd better practice that, too - I prefer `Sir', I think, so when you have something to say, remember to address me properly."

Dave lay there then, my words seeming to have struck home - well, he didn't have any choice, did he? Jason continued to wank him vigorously, and Dave was giving little moans and whimpers as he was reaching his climax. Which only goes to show that even if you find something is not erotic, if you're properly manually stimulated your cock can't help reacting!

Finally Dave gave a quite loud groan and Jason stopped, and bent over to catch Dave's cum as he'd been ordered to. Not a lot - well, Dave and I are about the same age, and I wasn't expecting that fountain you get from a very young guy. I was interested in seeing what would happen next though, so I told Jason not to stop, but to carry on wanking Dave.

That was another way we were alike, then - Dave began to buck and writhe and moan and shout "no, please, no.", so he was clearly one of those men who, like me, has a cock of incredible sensitivity after shooting. I enjoyed it for a few seconds then motioned to Jason that he could stop, although I had him hold Dave's cock back so I could enjoy seeing Dave's dark red cock head glistening from his pre-cum and cum before he lost his erection and his foreskin slid back to cover it.

I motioned to Jason to get up and we both stood by Dave's head. "You know, Dave, that's another thing your owner will probably have done - as well as the branding, you'll almost certainly be `skinned as he'll want your cock properly on display. Still, as you told me, it only hurts for a bit as it's done." Dave was glaring at me now, but had obviously seen the sense in remaining silent. I fingered his cum lying there in Jason's palm, knowing Dave would find this humiliating.

"Quality, rather than quantity, I see. Do you know, Dave, I reckon your owner might consider using you to `cover' a bitch, as you showed me with that nigga girl when we first met. I hadn't considered whether you'd like that - you seem to like young men."

Dave continued to glare at me, and I went on "But I don't suppose it matters, as once you're a slave you can be cuffed securely, wanked to erection, and then `put' into the bitch if your owner decides he wants to breed from you. And a few good slaps on your bum then will get you thrusting in and out, however much you hate it."

Dave watched, although he looked agitated, as I dropped my trousers and underwear and kicked them off, and stood there in just my polo.. "It seems a pity to waste all this cum, doesn't it, Dave? It makes a good lubricant....". and I then looked down at Jason and said quietly "Slick my cock."

I was half erect already, but as soon as Jason's fingers started to wipe Dave's cum over my cock, I went totally hard. Seeing Dave watching with a look of horror, or terror perhaps, and not wanting to give him a chance to speak, I quickly moved behind him. I kicked at his ankles to get him to spread his legs wider and effectively lower himself to a more comfortable height for me, then rested my cock along the top of his ass crack. The heat coming from his skin felt magical against the tender underside of my cock.

Dave started to shout as I pushed his bum cheeks apart and let my cock slide down his crack, and I stopped for a moment so I could reach for the thrasher and land a blow on his bare shoulders to silence him. Then I held my cock, teasing it up and down his crack, letting my cock head roam over his hole and taint. It was tough, I can tell you! I had to really make myself hold back and not force myself in to him, and the longer I continued to tease at him, the worse it got - I could tell it wasn't just Dave's cum on my cock now, but my own pre-cum, too.

I am a man who can control himself though, as you know. And I went back and stood in front of Dave. I let my cock jut out towards his face, and said calmly "I decided not to fuck you, Dave. But you couldn't have stopped me, could you? When we were in bed as free men we both held off, but when you're a slave you won't have that choice. As and when he wants to, your owner will fuck you - either nicely in bed, or, until you get used to it, tied down on a `horse' as you are now. So have you anything to say, Dave?"

"Fuck you!", he exploded. And I retaliated with a couple more strokes of the thrasher, which left him wriggling around from the discomfort - or pain.

"No, Dave. I was expecting you to say Thank you', or, rather, Thank you, sir, for not using your slave as you could have'. So I see that you still have not learned any lessons in slave behaviour properly, but I'm tiring of this as I want to go back to more serious business. So clean me up...."

As I was saying this I positioned my cock head on Dave's lips, and pushed forward. He turned his head away to the side, mumbling `No, no, no....".

"Now come on, Dave. Don't be childish! You've sucked cock before, and mine's perfectly clean - no shit on it, as I didn't go up your ass. That's another lesson you'll have to learn - how to flush yourself out so you're squeaky clean for your owner." Dave glared at me, but made no movement, so I went on "And that cum is yours, as you know. So open up your mouth like a man and suck me clean so it doesn't stick to my underwear, or take the consequences."

I saw Dave almost visibly thinking, then slowly he turned his head towards me and opened his lips. "Good", I muttered quietly and calmly, ruffling Dave's hair kind of affectionately but in a way that I knew he would find humiliating. "Good, now remember: no teeth - be careful, as if I feel even the merest scrape the `thrasher' will go in to action again. So lots of licking, a good tongue bath...."

He did as I'd ordered him to, and I refrained from ramming my cock down his throat and giving him a good face fucking, as I wanted to move on. He lay there then licking his lips and clearing his mouth as I dressed.

"Now, Dave, as I have your full attention, as perhaps I did not have before, we're going to go through all the material I used earlier, again. I'm going to sit here and show you the evidence, and you're going to answer all my questions truthfully. And I'm going to give Greg here the thrasher, and if there's any hesitancy, or if I think you're not telling me the truth, he'll tan your bum and shoulders - and as you can see, Greg's much bigger and stronger than me, and no doubt it will hurt even more. And if at the end of it I still don't think you've understood, I'll use him again - and this time you will see what it's like to have another slave fucking you. When you're a slave yourself it will probably happen all the time, so you may as well start to get used to it. And Greg's cock is a bit thicker than mine, as I'm sure you've noticed - and he doesn't use it with as much finesse as I do mine: he's rather a rough, blunt instrument!"

I looked at him and said "So you understand the rules?"

"Yes."

I looked at Greg and said "One, across the shoulders, not too hard."

Dave shouted as the thrasher hit and I could see the skin on his shoulders - especially where his shoulder blades jutted out - was going very red indeed. "Try that again, Dave. And remember what I said about slaves being polite and respectful...."

"Yes, sir", Dave eventually managed to get out, although with rather an ill will, I thought. Still, I was making progress.

It took a long time - about an hour - as he remained tied there as I painstakingly went through all the stuff. Giving him the public statistics and asking him how his business differed from the industry norm, and so on. And he had to agree that my figures for local taxes, and profits tax and so on were correct, as was the rent he paid. And we only had to use the thrasher a couple of times at the start, before Dave finally understood he had to listen and respond. Finally I said calmly "So do you now agree, Dave, that the business is slowly going broke?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good! So you keep going from the other `businesses streams', mostly in cash, that you don't declare to the Revenue?"

He hesitated, and I gestured to Greg, which Dave saw and before the thrasher could land on him again he said through his gritted teeth "Yes, sir".

"So, Dave, unless something changes, you'll end up enslaved. Either because the business is broke or because the Revenue will find out?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent!", I told him, ruffling his hair again in a gesture of approval. "So now we need to discuss what we're going to do to save you from yourself, to make a plan to fix things. Your business will have to go, of course, as it's anyway effectively worthless. But I think you'll make a good employee of mine."

"No!"

I ran my hand over his bum, and stroked his shoulders, feeling him flinch under me. It was intoxicating. The heat radiating from where the thrasher had hit was so strong.

"Yes, Dave. We already talked about the fact that there are no jobs for unqualified middle-aged men. So unless I employ you, you'll be destitute, and destitution leads to slavery. And you'll end up working for me anyway, if you're lucky enough to have me buy you. Working as a slave, subject to punishments, and being used for my pleasure.... Is that what you want?"

"No...."

"Careful, Dave! I didn't hear a `sir' there. And Greg's still here with the thrasher, you know. So let's analyse things... Is it that you don't want to be a slave because of the punishments? You can avoid them, mostly, you know, by being obedient. Or is it because you don't want to be used sexually? That's not very nice for me, is it, Dave? I thought we were getting along so well."

"Look... Sir... Please.... I like working for myself. I can't work for other people, I never have...."

"Oh but you will, Dave. Don't let's have to start all over again! Either work for me, willingly, as an employee. Or end up working for me as a slave. I thought you were a pretty intelligent guy when I first met you, and if you still can't see that...."

He lay there motionless and still for a few seconds. Then a small smile began as he said quietly "Well we need to talk about a salary then, don't we, sir?"

I indicated to Greg and Jason to free Dave's wrists from the legs of the horse, and he slowly got to his feet and ran his hands over his bum - I guess he was hurting a bit, or at least had a few stinging sensations!

I put my arms around is shoulders, feeling him wince as I did so, and pulled him close to me. Then I kissed him, and had that wonderful feeling that you get when two guys are really doing it passionately. I almost wanted to be as naked as he was, but found it strangely erotic to have his naked body pressed against my clothes. I let my hands run down his body, gripping him bum - a lot more flinching - and broke the kiss. "It might be an easier negotiation than you think, Dave. I reckon we're going to get on pretty well together."

Really I'd have liked Dave to stay the night, but he said he had to get back as he had things to do and he had an early start in the morning, so I watched him dress, and reluctantly let him go. And that night I didn't just lie alongside Greg, as I had been so aroused by the evening that I knew I wouldn't sleep properly if I didn't have sex.

The next morning I had to spend over an hour with Jason going through what I wanted him to research this time, and he seemed so doubtful about where the information was going to come from. "Well, it's up to you", I told him. "I'm a manager, and I'm only interested n results, not in how the workers achieve it. And now you're a slave, I have incentives to make sure you work hard, and thoroughly, as you know. I wonder what that thrasher' will fell like on your ass? You've not got as much meat' in your bum as Dave had.... So think on, and get stuck in. I won't tolerate failure."

I set out for Dave's Slaves then, and when I arrived Dave was supervising the niggas in clearing out the slave storage cages. I saw how costs were kept low - a hose could sluice away all the piss and crap that had accumulated under the cages, and the same hose was then sprayed over the slaves so that they could clean themselves. It was rather distasteful, actually, as one of the females was at "that time of the month" and the blood and residue should not have to be seen by a gentleman.

"The females have to go", I told Dave. "They're a distraction. Sell them, preferably today, and make room for more males."

He laughed. "Look, you may know about finance, but you know jack shit about slave dealing. People come in here expecting choice." He stopped, as if that was a totally convincing argument, then seeing I appeared unconvinced, went on more quietly "In any case I can't buy more slaves until I sell some - there's not the money."

"You may know about keeping slaves, Dave. But not about marketing - you say people expect choice, but when they come here they have a very poor choice: only a few not-all-that-good males. We need to focus, to focus on males, exceptional males in one way or another - young, or handsome, or very fit and muscular, or big and burly labouring types, or gingers, or niggas, or something. That way we become a `destination', and people will beat a path to our door when they want to buy a slave like that. And indeed you do have money now - I have this partnership agreement here, a standard one we use when we are restructuring companies. I get 51% of the business in exchange for a big injection of cash."

"No - I'm not giving up control..."

"You did that last night, Dave! When you agreed to work for me, one way or the other. This agreement generously gives you just slightly under half the profits we will make." As I spoke, I pulled out the agreement - fairly standard so it had not been difficult to draw up - and gave it to him. "Sign!".

He stared at me for what seemed like ages, but I know that when men are being asked to make a big, bold decision you need to give them time to think. So I stood stock still, and said nothing. Then slowly he took the pen I was holding out, rested the document on the bare back of one of the niggas, and signed.

Suddenly though Dave changed and barked out orders to his niggas. They grabbed hold of me and I realised I was powerless to resist - they were so much bigger and stronger, and there were two of them, and they were used to handling slaves so had all the right grips. As I shouted protests at Dave they dragged me - literally - along the corridors and into the room where I had first seen Dave administering a whipping.

I struggled as they pulled off my clothes, but it was no use. And then they hung me on a frame - strung up by cuffs around my wrists, and spread my legs and pulled my ankles to the side of the frame and shackled them. I was standing stretched out in a big "X" and it was far from comfortable, as it felt like all my muscles were being pulled hard and stretched.

Dave came and stood in front of me. "What the fuck....", I began.

"Silence!", he barked. "I don't like the way you give me orders. I don't like the way you have already started to take over things. So if we're to be partners you need to understand exactly what that means, even if you do have 2% more than me! You need to ask me, not tell me. Do you understand?"

"It's for the best, I...."

"Silence! If we're partners, and as you treated me like a slave yesterday, it's your turn to be treated the same way now. And slaves remain silent unless they are answering a direct question, don't they?"

"Dave, be reasonable...."

I didn't get any more out as he simply slapped me hard, on the face. My head jerked backwards, and I had that terrible feeling of utter powerlessness as I hung there naked in front of him. I couldn't stop him doing whatever he wanted to me.

"Now, my bum was a bit sore this morning from that thrasher thing - a nice buy, incidentally, as you hit me and hurt me a lot, but there's no broken skin. I haven't got one of those, but I have got this..." Dave held up a cane in front of me, and I recognised it from some of the stuff I'd been looking at in the slave suppliers yesterday. The display had said something like "Finest Malacca".

There's something dreadful about that swishing noise you get as a cane flies through the air, and Dave swished it backwards and forwards a couple of times as if getting the feel of it. Then he hit me with it, across my buttocks. I knew he had as I heard it connect with my flesh, but it was an instant before the pain hit me and I screamed. That hard, burning pain as the cane strikes, to be followed an instant later by the dull, throbbing sensation spreading through the muscles.

Dave came around to face me, smiling. "Painful, isn`t it? But you'll be glad to know that I'm an expert, and so I can hit you very hard but not quite hard enough to break the skin. I think you gave me four strokes with that thrasher, so I owe you three..."

"No, please...." I stammered. "Dave, this is stupid... You can't cane me. I haven't done anything.... I...." All intelligent speech failed me as Dave gave me three more strokes, and I heard myself screaming.

He stood in front of me again then, watching as I desperately shifted around at the limits of the bindings holding me, trying to move my muscles, hoping that somehow if I did the pain might lessen.

"Don't ever call your owner stupid! And be realistic - as you can feel, I can cane you. And you have done something - you've annoyed me." He paused to let his words sink in, then went on "Now, time to have you wanked, I think. I'd like to compare your cum when a slave jerks you off, with mine." He gestured at one of the niggas as he aid this, and the slave knelt in front of me and reached out for my cock.

His hands were warm and surprisingly soft, and be began to stroke me rhythmically. "Shall I suck him off, master?" he asked Dave.

"No. I expect he's used to a nice soft mouth around that cock of his so it would be too easy. Just wank him."

Well, you probably know what it's like when another guy tries to jerk you off. It's simply not as good as doing it yourself, as no-one else really knows the way you like it done, do they? So the nigga had to work away for ages and I was thinking my cock skin was going to get chafed until the inevitable happened, and I got erect. And then as he worked away I felt myself starting to shoot. The nigga neatly caught my cum, but carried on stroking me to get the last drops of cum out of me, and I was writhing and shouting as my cock is so very sensitive after I've shot - just the same as Dave, I now remembered. Then at a signal from Dave the nigga stopped and let go, and I was able to relax - well, as much as possible in the circumstances.

Dave looked at my cum, starkly white against the dark pink of the nigga's palm. "I'm going to be more generous than you were yesterday, by giving you a choice", he told me. "Either the nigga can slick this stuff all over my cock, and then I can force it up your ass. Or..."

"But I didn't do that! I only threatened..."

"A valuable lesson here, I think. In the slave trade you never threaten. If you say you are going to do something to a slave, especially a slave who's held helpless on a frame, as you are, then you do it. No faking, no playing games. If I say I'm going to force my cock up your ass, I will."

"No, please, Dave, I don't take cock..."

His cane whistled again and I screamed again, and when I stopped thrashing around Dave said sternly "I seem to remember respect' comes in here somewhere. A slave does not call his owner by name. Master' or Sir', I believe. And I prefer Sir'. So you need to remember to speak properly.... Now, try again."

I struggled to say it, as it's a long time since in my way up the career ladder I'd had to call people sir. But I did. "Please, sir. I don't take cock...."

"Better! But you're wrong, you know. You don't mean you don't take cock. You mean you used not to take cock. Things are different now, as it's no longer your choice, but mine. I decide whether my cock, or indeed one of those nigga's cocks, goes up your ass."

He was laughing now as he went on "But perhaps I won't fuck you - yet. It's not all that comfortable - for me, that is - to have to do it to a slave strung up on the frame. I'll wait until I take you to bed." He paused, looked thoughtful, and went on "I tell you what, let's pretend I'm a generous owner and I'm in a good mood, and I decide to let you make a decision. You like making decisions, don't you? Always telling me what to do..."

"Yes, sir", I muttered, as I could see he wanted an answer.

"OK, then. You can decide. I fuck you now. Or you get four more strokes of the cane."

I listened incredulously. He couldn't be serious. You can't ask a man to make a decision like that. But then I saw that Dave was serious, and he'd unzipped his jeans and was stroking his cock with one hand as he swished the cane around with the other. I began to realise the utter helplessness a slave feels when he is totally under the control of his owner, an owner who holds all the power.

"No, please.... Please, sir...."

"Of course if you take too long to make up your mind, I might do it for you. But then I wouldn't know what you really wanted, would I? So perhaps I had better do both - fuck you and cane you, or cane you and fuck you, or even cane you, fuck you and cane you again. That way I'd be sure I'd covered all the bases!"

How could I choose? What could I do? I felt tears welling up - it must have been the pain, as I don't cry. But was it that, or the realisation of my utter helplessness?

Dave came and stood close, griped my hair and pulled my head back. "So, not so easy to decide sometimes, is it? Not always so easy to make decisions, as to give orders?" As he said that I could feel his cock rubbing against mine and his jeans and polo pressing against my naked skin. He reached up and rubbed his thumb harshly over my left nipple, and I gasped and writhed as I'm very sensitive there - especially when I've just cum. He noticed, and did it again, this time pinching me quite hard and I desperately thrust myself around, trying to escape, and cried out.

Then he leaned forward and, still holding my hair tight, pulled our faces together and I felt his tongue forcing itself into my mouth, and we began to kiss passionately - very passionately, almost violently, some would say. When we broke off Dave was smiling. "Wow! Real passion. We must do it again."

Seeing me flinch he grinned. "No, relax - I'm not going to fuck you, and I'm not going to cane you again - this time. But you need to remember that we're partners, and we discuss things, not order each other around. OK?"

"Yes."

He tweaked both nipples this time, hard, and I screamed and writhed. "You don't have a very long memory, do you? All that about respect for the man in charge... Now, try again..."

"Yes, sir", I had to force out again.

Dave laughed. "All right, enough threats and punishment. But I think you need to be reminded that a slave dealership is a serious place. So I'm going to leave you hanging there this morning as I go about my work - it will give you a much better perspective than you'd get from simply watching me in all your nice clothes! And I've got a couple of owners coming in this morning with their slaves, and I'm sure they'll like looking over a nice fit man like you - they may even do a bit of hands-on inspection of you. Literally, hands-on: their hands, on you."

It was a terrible, terrible morning. For one thing, standing stretched out in an "X" hurts after a time. You desperately want to lower your arms, but you can't. And it made me realise how utterly powerless I really was - I would have to hang there until Dave let me go! And when some of the owners came in and Dave carried out the whippings and beatings, those vile men did come over and I felt their hot, clammy hands running all over my belly, and my pecs, and my bum, and there was nothing I could do about it, no way of preventing them. And two of them even held my cock and `skinned me back - I mean, that most private of all things, having your cock head examined! And they had the cheek to offer Dave money for me - but he just laughed and said he didn't think it was enough for a piece of prime slave flesh. But that he didn't own me, and was just keeping me "hanging around" - the men all laughed at this pun - until my owner came to collect me later.

At lunch time it was Dave who actually undid the shackles and cuffs, and I almost collapsed into his arms as my muscles were so tired. He put his arms around me to hold me up, and nuzzled gently at my neck, and kissed me. "It's OK, now..." he whispered. "It's OK now...." And he led me off in to his private quarters to shower as he said he didn't want me to have to do it where the slaves pissed and crapped under the cold hose.

As I stood under the blissful hot water, Dave got in with me and started to soap me. And it was fun when this time he teased my nipples with his soapy fingers, so gently, And when he stroked my cock so that I came erect almost immediately, as was he. And when he slid his hands right down my back, and between my ass cheeks, and tickled my asshole. And I did the same to him, too. It was fantastic, and I wanted it to go on and on. But Dave suddenly turned the water off and got out of the shower and began to dry himself, throwing a towel at me.

"Dave, no... Let's carry on.... And let's go to bed...."

He laughed again, a laugh almost of disbelief. "You're supposed to the business man! And it's my - no, our - business that's in trouble. And you want to spend the afternoon on sex? Come on... Just time for a swift half down the pub, and a pie - we need to keep our strength up - and then I've got a full afternoon of work to do, even if you haven't."

So we went to the pub, and there were, as usual, some of the working men in there doing as we were. And now I looked at them with a different eye - not jut because they had hard bodies and nice bums, but because they were potential slaves, and I couldn't help working out in my head how I would go about valuing them for input to a business plan.

Dave was reading the local paper as we sat there - presumably he'd seen these men so often that they were not fresh and exciting. No, not reading it, exactly, more turning the pages, scanning this and that, as you do. The pies arrived then and he threw it down, but something caught my eye.

"What's this then, about a public slave auction?", I asked.

"Oh, that - not for us. It's the garrison up at Colchester. The quarterly sale. Selling off the men who have been court-martialled. They no longer keep them in military custody and all that stuff - it costs too much. So if you do something serious, the court marital sentences you to enslavement. Then every quarter they sell them off. But it's not for us."

"Why not?"

"Well, if you've been in the forces and you do something to warrant enslavement, you've done something really bad. And these blokes are tough at the best of times, after all their training. So to take ones who have been really bad is asking for trouble - dealing with those hard cases would be impossible. And in any case they go for high prices, as they've generally got very good bodies, so I can't afford them."

I thought about how glad Greg was,, to be a slave - well, a slave with a decent owner. And how it might be possible to turn some of these "hard cases" into good slaves if the benefits of finding a good owner were pointed out to them. Or if they understood the difficulties they would face if they did not find a good owner, and ended up with a bad one.

I looked at Dave. "Well, YOU could not afford them. But WE can. I see it's next week. We'll go."

End Of Part Fourteen