Slave Show

THE SLAVE SHOW

By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part Twenty Three

Well things jogged along a bit for the next two or three weeks - now I was watching Shane all the time, and getting steadily more and more annoyed as I saw his disgraceful behaviour, especially towards Julie, who seemed to be almost in despair at his sometimes callous disregard for her.

It was, I suppose, therefore very unfortunate for Andy that he did something totally stupid just at the moment when I was feeling pretty pissed off at young men in general! I'd been up to one of my regular dealers to look at a consignment of new stock - a lot of pretty good looking Eastern Europeans, he'd been enslaved for persistent shop lifting after they'd come up into our rural part of Essex looking for seasonal work. Something was clearly wrong as I drove into our yard, as the slaves out on the course all stopped and were clearly watching me, to see what would happen next! I strode through the barn, which was empty as they were all out exercising, then through the kitchen, where the cook looked at me strangely, and Andy stood there, working away, keeping his eyes well down and apparently not daring to look at me. Something was definitely going on, and I speeded up, now taking long strides out towards the course, calling for Joe.

He came running, and stood in front of me, panting slightly, eyes cast down. "So, what the fuck's going on? Is there some problem out here?"

"No, sir."

"Oh fuck - is it master Dan, or the mistress, or master Shane....?" My heart began to race, as I thought that there must have been some tragedy in the family, especially considering the difficulties with Shane.

"No, sir, they're all fine...."

"So what the fuck's going on, Joe? You slaves can't hide stuff from me, you know!"

"It's nothing, sir... Well, not much... Please, sir, please don't be angry... And remember the promise you made to me...."

"Joe, I'm not a violent man, as you know, but if you don't stop this crap at once and tell me what's been going on, I'll take a cane to you, here and now, in front of the other slaves...."

Joe looked really miserable. "Please, sir, he's just stupid really.... I don't think he realised how angry you might be.... He's just so headstrong, and he got this idea...."

"Joe.... I'm warning you..."

"It's Andy, sir. But he thought it was a good idea....."

I turned and strode back into the kitchen. The cook stood there, looking alarmed, and I looked at him and snapped "Get lost!". He almost ran, so keen was he to get out of my sight. It never occurred to me that I might be quite so terrifying.

Andy stood there then, and I heard Joe come up behind me and stand motionless. "Well?"

Andy just stood there, head down, and I thought I saw him start to shake, just a bit. "What the fuck's been happening, boy? Tell me, and tell me now, before I double any punishment you probably deserve!"

Slowly he pushed up the sleeves of his slave T to expose his biceps, and there were fresh tattoos, making bands around them, just as Joe had.

"Take that fucking shirt off!"

Slowly, infinitely slowly, as if he understood the gravity of his crime, Andy pulled the T over his head, and let it drop to the floor. There, running down his torso, was the word "Andy" in big letters, starting between his pecs, and with the tail of the "y" curling around his navel.

"Please, sir....", he began.... "I wanted to be like Joe...."

"Turn around!"

As he did so, there, across his shoulders, from side to side, was another "Andy".

"Sir, I'm sorry, sir.... I thought you'd like it....", he began. "Joe's inked like this, and you like it on him.... But when Joe saw it he was so cross, and said you'd at least whip me...."

"I don't like it on him, actually! But he was done, and that's that. And how dare you make a decision like that - you're a fucking slave, boy, and if I want you inked, I'll have you inked! I ought to flay the hide off you, get rid of it that way..... You've destroyed your value, as some owners don't like inked slaves, and some like to have their own designs put on a slave's body: you've cut yourself out of both those markets."

Joe cut in now. "Sir, please.... He thought he was doing the right thing.... He saw some of the other slaves in the obedience classes last week wearing skin-tight Ts with their names on them, and he thought this would be even better. And, of course, he wants to be like me, sir. And his value doesn't matter, does it, sir? You promised not to sell him..."

"He's been trouble ever since he came here, Joe. He needs teaching a lesson, once and for all, that he does as he's told, no more and no less. He doesn't make decisions, he doesn't make bets with other slaves... It's a whipping, I think - it's no good just caning him. A whipping it has to be, something that will get deep down into his brain, something he'll remember for as long as he lives, something that will tame him, once and for all. Several owners I've met recently have slaves whipped as a matter of course, as they say that a whipped slave will do anything - anything at all - to avoid having it happen again."

"Sir, please.... He thought he was doing the right thing. He knows he's a slave, sir, and he knows you're his master. He's just a bit wilful, sir, as all seventeen year olds are. But he does respect you, sir, and he is your property.... If you have him whipped almsot certainly something will get damaged as he's so wiry... And then your investment really will be devalued. And even if he's not damaged physically, something will be lost from his personality...."

"Joe, stop trying to rationalise things for me. You're always doing it, always wheedling away at me...

This is a wilful slave, as you say. And he doesn't respect me, his owner...."

"Sir, he does!" I was surprised, as Joe had raised his voice, something he never does to me. "Show him, Andy!"

The kid dropped his shorts as we watched, his oversized cock actually jerking into the air as he did so. Then he turned around.... And my anger evaporated as I almsot burst into laughter. There, across the boy's nicely muscled bum it said "Property of Steve Masters."

"See, sir, he does accept that he's your slave...", Joe went on. "He had that done without any prompting from me, sir."

Well, I wanted to laugh, but it was pretty serious and it's not good to let discipline slide. I could see the slaves coming back form the course now, peering in to the kitchen as they went past but not daring to stop in case any of my wrath were to deflect to them.

I had to do something, I supposed, but a caning just wasn't enough, but, on the other hand, perhaps the brutality of a whipping was too much.

There was one of those meat hooks, in the shape of a big "S", lying on the kitchen counter where the cook had got a side of beef out of the cold store for butchering. I picked it up with some kitchen tongues, went over to the big range and turned on the wok jet, and put the hook in the flame.

"Bend over the preparation table, Andy."

I suppose he thought he was going to be caned, and he shuffled over. Joe was looking terrified, though, as he could see what I had in mind. "Hold him down, Joe, really tightly. I don't want him moving at all..."

"Sir, please, no...", he whispered.

"Joe, you know he's got to be punished. We've got over twenty slaves here, and if I let discipline slip, it will be impossible. Defacing his body like that deserves a whipping, and you know that. I'm sparing him that, but a caning isn't enough. Now, hold him down!"

Very reluctantly, Joe went over and somehow twined his legs around Andy's, pushing him hard up against the preparation table, then put his big hand on the lad's neck and pushed down hard on it. I went over to the stove and picked up the "S" hook, now glowing red from the heat, and carried it over to where they were. I was trembling, actually - I'm not an unfeeling brute, you know, and I'd never done anything like this before.

"Andy, you know you did wrong. And you must be punished. You wanted to decorate your body.... Well, now this is my decoration...."

I pushed the red hot "S" down onto his right flank, just on his bum. His scream rent the air, but Joe held him firmly, knowing, perhaps, that any movement would only cause an even bigger burning and even more pain for the kid. My nose filled with the acrid smell of burning meat, but I held the "S" there, so it would go through the outer layers of the skin and deep into the tissue. Andy's terrified screams were renting the air, an awful mixture of terror and shock. I was shaking and trembling now as I saw what terrible pain I'd inflicted, so I took the "S" away, and went to the freezer and got out a big packet of frozen peas, and came back and pushed it onto the angry red scar.

"Hold that on him, Joe. It will take out most of the pain, eventually...."

The kid was sobbing and crying now, with a terrible, heart-rending sound that showed just how badly he felt. I took Joe's hand off his neck and turned his face towards me. "You're lucky, boy. Lucky that I did that to you. But one day you'll see a slave that's been whipped, thoroughly whipped, and then you'll know how lucky you are to escape with a brand. Get Joe to tell you that tonight."

Actually, I felt terrible as I walked away leaving Joe holding the kid, who now seemed to be almsot twitching in agony. I went into the office and got a needle of pain killers that the vet lets us have for minor injuries, and went back into the kitchen and plunged the needle into Andy's rump. I muttered to Joe "Take care of him, Joe. He's only a lad really, although he likes to act tough. You know I had to do something...."

Joe looked at me. "You always have to do something, sir. That's your way."

I wasn't sure whether that was a complement or not, so I strode off. As I went through the barn those slaves who were standing around talking snapped to attention, and those sprawled on their beds sprang to their feet.

A deadly silence fell on the place, and I knew I'd earned their respect. But once I'd slammed the door into my own room, I went into my bathroom and stood over the lavatory, retching and heaving. It's hard being a master sometimes - but you have to be cruel to be kind in the training business.

Actually, as it turns out, we started a new fashion! I've told you that it was the practice for agility competition slaves to wear shorts and Ts, as when they threw themselves over and around and through the obstacles it was considered they'd run faster if they were not worried about hurting their cocks and balls - if you think about it, the male body isn't well designed for crawling along the ground, or for twining itself around posts and polls: you need to keep the genitals safe and secure. Some of the slaves had started having their names on these Ts and shorts, and it was that, coupled with the desire to emulate Joe, that had given Andy the idea of getting himself inked (we subsequently discovered that the tattooist had sent a slave out to us as Julie needed stuff done to some of the slaves she groomed - making their identification numbers more distinct, that sort of thing - and Andy had taken the slave off afterwards and "persuaded" him that all the work to his body had been agreed and that there'd be trouble if the slave went back to base with it incomplete. We then got a huge bill from the tattoo parlour, but that's another problem!). Anyway, now he was inked like this, and once the "S" brand on his right flank had healed to a dark red line on his pale skin, it seemed we might a well capitalise on it. So the next time Andy appeared in the ring he was just wearing a small silk triangular pouch, tied around his waist and with the third string disappearing up his bum crack. Folk had mostly forgotten that this is the way "show" slaves used to appear at the highest levels (as I had), I reckon, so it created a bit of a sensation. Mind you, Andy complained and complained, as with his slim hips and long body and tiny bum crack, the strings holding this pouch started very low down on him, so low, in fact, that to prevent it looking unsightly, he had to have all his pubes shaved as the top of the pouch was right at the top of his cock! Even Joe laughed when he first saw the kid shaved completely clean, and he got a lot of stick from the other slaves, but that's life, I suppose.

On that fateful day, though, when I was still shaking a bit from what I'd had to do, I went over to the house and Julie saw me looking terrible, and made me sit down whilst she made me a big mug of tea, as people seem to do when someone's not looking in peak condition. She also bought me over a big piece of her Victoria sponge, and I pushed it away. "Julie, you know I don't eat stuff like that... I have to watch my weight."

"Because you're vain, Steve! Always worrying about that body of yours. Why don't you relax a bit - Dan was like that when we first got married, but most women don't mind a bit of covering on a man..."

"Well it's all right for Dan, as he's married! And he's not fat, really - he's got that sort of body that looks OK with just a bit of flesh on it. Not like me.

And, anyway I'm still free... I might need to impress someone... " I tried to smile as I said this, then bit into my cake to cover my confusion.

"Oh Steve, I do feel for you, honestly. You're such a nice man, and it's a real shame you've never met anyone... You ought to have settled down, had kids..... Had someone to love you..."

I just sat there, not knowing what to say. But at that moment the door banged open and Shane stalked through. "Do you want some tea, love, and a piece of cake?", Julie called.

"Fucking no! I hate all that crap. You ought to know that!", Shane almost shouted as he didn't stop, and walked towards the stairs.

Julie sat there at the table, then put her head in her hands, and I saw her start to shake, and sob. I put my arms around her, to try to comfort her.

"It's OK, Steve! It will pass. But I just hate it at the moment. He used to be such a nice boy, so kind and gentle with me and his brother. And now, this last month or so....."

I know I'd promised Dan that I wouldn't interfere, but I was still worked up from dealing with Andy. And seeing Julie sobbing like that was more than I could bear.

I took the stairs two, or perhaps three at a time. I knew it must be Shane's room as loud, heavy music started to pulse out, and I went to open it, but it was locked. I just kicked it, the lock splintered and the door flew open. Shane was sprawled on his bed.

"Fucking get out, this is my room...."

"Turn that noise off!"

"Fuck off, Steve."

I swept his CD player onto the floor, and that stopped it.

"You fucking idiot! That's expensive..."

"Get down there and apologise to your mother..."

"Mind your own fucking business...."

"It is my business. I've known you and Julie since you were a kid. And I won't have her upset by the behaviour of a spoiled kid!"

"I'm not a kid! I'm a man. I was sixteen a month ago, didn't you notice?"

"Men don't treat women like that! Now, get down there and apologise to your mother. She's a nice lady, and she doesn't deserve the way you've been treating her - and your dad - recently. They might let you get away with it, but I won't...."

"Fuck you, Steve! You can't tell me what to do. I'm a man now."

I lost it then. I grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him to his feet. "So you're a man, are you? Right! I'll show you how I deal with men! I give kids some latitude as they're still growing up, but men who piss me off get into trouble - big trouble."

"You don't scare me, Steve! You take it out on those slaves.... But you can't do that to a free man..."

Well, here I was, with my authority being challenged twice in one afternoon. I couldn't let it go, there was no backing down now. I tightened my grip on his arm, knowing my strong fingers in his biceps were probably hurting him, and noticing that he was determined not to let it show. I half dragged, half pushed him along the corridor and down the stairs and across the kitchen, and Julie shouted "No, Steve, no...."

"I won't hurt him, Julie, I promise. But he says he's a man. And we're going to find out just how much of a man he really is...."

I dragged him across the yard and into my quarters, tossed him a pair of slave exercise shorts and snapped "Put these on".

I started to tear my own clothes off as he sneered "No way - these are fucking slave shorts..."

"They're what I wear..."

"You were a slave, so I suppose you're used to them...."

I was standing there naked now, and as my body swung around in anger, I could see him staring at my cock as it bobbed up and down. "Listen, Shane, I don't fucking care whether you wear those shorts or not. But when I'm dressed, you and me are going out to run the course, to see just how tough you really are! And if you haven't got those shorts on, I don't care at all - I'll pull your clothes off, and you'll do it naked."

"You wouldn't dare...."

I just shrugged, and bent over to pull some socks on, then reached for my shorts. Out of the corner of my eye, as I did my boots up, I saw Shane slowly start to strip off. He'd not got a bad body - in fact, he reminded me a lot of Dan when we'd first met: lean and rangy, with long legs, and nice muscles. And I knew that Dan liked to exercise, too - and he shared the enthusiasm Dan used to have for playing football as he was in the school team, and also went out on Sunday mornings to play the knock-about games as we'd done. All that seemed to have stopped recently, but not so recently that I wouldn't have minded showing him as a slave even now, as he really was in superb condition!

My anger was cooling - I'm quick to flare up, but cool down almsot as quickly, but Shane takes after Dan and it continues to burn and build in him. He'd been sullen and angry before, but now something seemed to be blazing in him. "I'm just as much a man as you are, Steve!", he snapped as we walked towards the door. "The only difference being that you're old, and I'm not!"

"Not so old that I can't beat you on the course, Shane!"

"Wait and see..." With that, he ran off to start, and I followed.

Look, I am pretty fit, and I run the course with the slaves as I like to keep my body in good nick and it anyway helps me to really see what they're doing - being right behind one of the slaves as he does some of the stuff gives you quite a different perspective on his performance than that which you get from running along and just watching. So I was expecting to win, but Shane was not only a lot younger than me, but lighter and, it seemed, extraordinarily fit. By the time we got to the end of the course I'd really almost worked myself into the ground, and stood there, my hands resting on my knees, with my body bent, as I sucked air in. Still, I had won.

"Special knowledge, Steve", Shane gasped. "I'll beat you this time..."

Well, I hadn't expected to have to do it twice! We never made the slaves do this, as once in the morning and once in the after noon was considered enough to keep them in top form. But Shane stood there, and I could hardly back down, could I? So off we went, and this time it was pure agony for me - my lungs were labouring and my heart felt as if it was going to burst, a terrible "stitch" was in my lungs, and the sweat was flying off me even though it was not a particularly hot day. We got to the end and it looked as if Dan was in nearly as much trouble as I was - although he was just a few feet ahead of me as there was no way I could make my body sprint the final fifty yards to the finishing line.

Through his teeth, with his breath sounding as laboured as mine was, Shane sneered "Hey, old man - see, now I know the course I can beat you."

"No way!"

"Best of three it has to be then... When you've recovered."

I willed my body to stand up and moved over to the starting line, as did Shane. But Joe came over then. "Sir, stop...."

"Out of the way, Joe... We're running it again...."

"I can't let that happen, sir. One or other, or both, of you will fall or something and injure yourselves. It's too tough to run three times - you know that, sir! You won't even let me put any of the slaves through it a third time when they need punishing."

Shane and I looked at each other. Neither of us would back down, of course. "Out of the way, Joe..."

"Sir, I can't let you, sir...."

"Fucking get out of the way, slave...."

"Sir! Please! What would master Dan say, sir, if his son or his business partner was to be injured and I hadn't tried to stop it? He'd have me punished, sir, and it's not fair.... You'll punish me if I don't let you go, and he'll punish me if I do...."

Shane and I looked at each other again, and I think we both knew that we didn't want to run the course a third time. Shane looked at me "I reckon he's right... About Dad, I mean, being pretty pissed off at you taking the risk. If you had a heart attack or something...."

"...or your muscles gave way, Shane. That's a lot more likely...."

Almost simultaneously we stuck out our hands, and shook. "A draw then, Shane?"

"OK. But you know you've lost, don't you, Steve? I'm only going to get better, and stronger, and you're only going to get weaker as you get older."

I felt like hitting him, but I suppose I knew he was right. Sooner or later young men overtake their elders. "You'd better come into my shower and get all the mud off you - I don't want your mom thinking that something terrible happened to you...."

My shower's pretty big, as I think I've told you, and as we stripped off, I couldn't help admiring Shane's body again - somehow having the stripes of mud all over him made him very sensual. And I noticed that he was looking at me, too.

"You're still in pretty good shape for an older bloke, Steve", he said almost as if he was appraising me. "I reckon it's a pity dad's letting himself go a bit."

"It's all the work I still do training the slaves. And your dad's in the office most of the time. But you're not in bad shape yourself.... If you weren't a free man, you'd be a sure fire 'best of breed' at least...."

He laughed. "Mom and dad would be glad to hear that, I'm sure - that they bred winning kids...."

We stood there, soaping ourselves, and I said quietly "I think they'd be glad to hear anything good about you at all, Shane...."

"For fuck's sake, don't you start... It's bad enough having mom and dad always going on at me...."

"They're just worried about you. You've changed...."

A look of sadness came over Shane's face, but he turned off the water almost angrily, reached for a towel, and started to dry himself. I did the same, then walked into my bedroom to get some fresh clothes, noticing that Shane's eyes seemed to follow me. He came out into the room then, and reached for his clothes. I saw that his cock was partially erect, and as he saw me noticing it, he tried o cover himself and began to blush.

"It's OK, Shane. Blokes get erections, you know. We all do. The slaves are hard a lot of the time..."

Shane stumbled around, pulling his clothes on. "Shane, I've known you since you were a kid.... I know you're a man now, but there's something wrong, isn't there? You've changed, and it's really causing your mom and dad to worry. And, as I said earlier, I think you need to go and say sorry to your mom for that display earlier. Kids can get away with being rude sometimes, but a man, a real man, isn't like that to his family."

He stood there, looking down, not wanting to meet my eyes. I felt so frustrated that I didn't seem to be getting through to him. I couldn't contain myself - I grabbed his shoulders, and almsot shook him as I was so angry. "Shane, you're throwing it all away! You have everything - a family that loves you, good marks at school, a bright future.... You're so fucking stupid you don't realise what you've got."

"Let me go! You think you know it all, just because you can boss slaves around..."

"No, Shane, I know it because I was like you - rebellious, wouldn't do what mom and dad wanted, ran off to join the army.... And if it wasn't for your dad, I'd still be a slave! It's a tough world out there now, Shane, don't you know that? Without qualifications you'll never get a proper job, and you'll always be at risk of enslavement.... That's why your mom and dad are so worried that you're not doing well at school now...."

"I don't care! It's all meaningless."

"Try telling that to one of the slaves! Shall I get young Andy in here and get him to tell you what life as a slave is like? He was a bright kid, too, but it all went wrong for him...."

"At least Andy has Joe.... He's got someone he loves...."

I began to smile. "Oh, so that's what it is, is it? Woman trouble! Well, that's understandable - at sixteen, your hormones are raging.... What's the problem? Your girlfriend won't give you what a man needs...?"

To my amazement it was Shane who became angry now. "So fucking typical! 'It must be a woman. He's upset as he can't fuck his girlfriend'!"

"So it's not a woman.... OK, I'm sorry. So what's the problem? It must be pretty damned serious to cause you to change so much. You can tell me, you know..."

"No I can't Steve."

"Shane, you need to tell someone what the problem is. Sharing a problem helps to make it better. That's about the only good thing about the Catholics - if it wasn't for all the religious mumbo-jumbo, I'd advise you to go off and make a confession totally anonymously. Just saying the words out loud would help, what ever the problem was."

I let go of his shoulders now, put one arm around him and led him over to my sofa, and we both sat down. "But as I'd hate to be the one who got you started on all that religious crap, you'd better tell me. I won't tell your mom and dad if you don't want me to.... It will only e between you and me. And I have some experience of helping other blokes, you know.... In the army, and then there's all the young slaves...."

"It's not a woman, Steve."

"So what is it?"

Shane sat there, and I could feel his body trembling next to mine. I sat there, still and silent, as I knew he was screwing himself up for some revelation. And suddenly he began "It's this bloke Jason, Steve. He's on the football team with me, but he's two years older - he'll be leaving this year. I'm so good they play me in the top team...."

I felt my anger begin to rise. "Has he been messing with you... .in the showers....?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand! If only Jason had 'messed with me', Steve. I love him, but I can't tell him. I've watched him for a year, and I want to be with him, hold him, feel his cock...."

"Hey, calm down.... If you haven't told him what you feel....."

"I can't, Steve! I just can't.... It would be too awful...."

"What would? Telling him? Why would that be awful?"

"He probably doesn't feel the same way. I've never seen him with a girl friend, but a bloke like that, in the football team, handsome...."

"You idiot! Suppose he does feel the same way about you, but doesn't feel he can say anything to you as a handsome sixteen year old like you must have a girlfriend...?"

"You can't say things like that to other blokes."

"Look, you idiot, here's something I was once told by a wise old sergeant in the army. If you ought to do something, and you know you ought to do it, but you keep putting it off as you're worried about what might happen, ask yourself 'what's the worst that could happen?'. So, what's the worst that could happen?"

"He'd laugh at me."

"Is that it?"

"Well, he might tell the other blokes at school, and on the football team, that I was queer, and they'd all

laugh at me as well."

"So all this unhappiness, the way you're doing badly at school, the way you are with your parents... It's because you're afraid that a few kids might laugh at you? Oh, come on, Shane! I had you down for better than that! Now I might laugh at you, for being such a wimp...."

"I'm not! You saw how I ran the course. I'm not afraid. And it's one of the reasons why I'm a good football player, too... I'll tackle anyone."

I really felt for him. I used to be like that, too, thinking that my physical strength and courage was all that was needed. "Look, Shane, no one doubts that you're brave physically. But sometimes it takes a lot more courage to say the right things. But you've got to do it, Shane.... You know that, don't you?"

"No..."

"Yes, Shane! Try this: roll the clock forward until you're my age. Now, will you be sitting there all alone, wondering what life might have been like if you'd told this bloke you loved him? Do you want that possible regret all your life? Or are you going to go up to him and tell him what you feel about him? After all, the worst he can do, you said, was to laugh and tell everyone else, and have the school all laughing at you.... A bit of laughter now, or a lifetime of possible regrets?"

"It's easy for you, Steve...."

I hugged him again. "Look, I know it's hard. But I went for a long time denying what I was, denying what I felt. I tried to conform - chased the women, all that sort of stuff.... But it ought to be easier now, the world's moved on...."

"Not as much as you think, Steve."

"Well, anyway, at least the problem's out in the open now. So you can either deal with it or not, but I bet you feel better for having said it, don't you? And you could go and tell your mom and dad, too..."

"Yes, I guess so. But I couldn't tell mom and dad. And you won't tell them either, will you?"

"Someone should.... It would make them a whole lot less worried...."

"No, Steve! They won't understand...."

"You really are stupid, Shane, you know that? Do you really think that Dan and Julie would rather have you all fucked up as you are now, rather than you having a boyfriend? They love you, you know, and parents put up with a lot from their kids because of that."

"Mom might understand.... But Dad wouldn't...."

"Look, I won't say anything to anyone. But you need to do two things: one is to go over and say sorry to Julie. And the second is to make up your mind to either talk to this Jason, and then get stuck back in to school work, or not to talk to him, and still get stuck into the school work. No more temper tantrums and things because you're unhappy, OK?"

He nodded, and got up and left, and I sat there wondering if I'd done the right thing.

I was even less certain the next morning when I was having breakfast over at the house and Shane came down looking deathly pale and worried. Julie at once rushed over to him and felt his brow. "Are you OK, love? You look terrible...."

"Mom, stop fussing...."

"You'd better stay at home today...."

"Mom, no! I'm OK...."

Before Julie could do or say anything more, Shane turned and went out to go and wait for the school bus.

Julie looked at me. "Steve, I'm so worried.... I'd rather have him belligerent, than looking so pale and wan..."

"I had a talk with him yesterday, Julie. I reckon we'll see some changes today...."

"Steve, what about?"

"It's kind of confidential....."

"You men! You haven't told him to go off and fight someone, have you? I began to think he was being bullied, which is what caused all those changes in him... And you men think the way to beat bullies is by standing up to them physically.... He's not gone off to start a fight, has he, Steve?"

"No, I can promise you that...."

Well, I could hardly concentrate on work all day, wondering what Shane might have done. But when he came home from school he was a changed man - he was smiling for the first time in weeks, and his whole body was held differently. I just looked at him, and grinned. "So..?"

"I didn't want to rush it, Steve. I asked Jason if he'd like to come here tomorrow and do some special training with me for football.... We're going to run the course together.... And he said it sounded pretty cool, but did he have to do it naked, as he'd heard that all the slaves here were like that.... And I said of course not.... And he kind of smiled and said it was a pity, as he'd heard we had some pretty stunning slaves here.... And I told him they were all blokes, though, and he just smiled.... And then I kind of said that I'd like to see more of him naked..... And he said he'd like to see more of me, too..... And then we talked a bit.... And he hasn't got a girlfriend, as he's not interested.... And I told him I hadn't, as I wasn't interested either. And then he asked if I'd got a boyfriend.... And I said I hadn't, but I'd like to... And it all seemed so natural, Steve! I mean, telling another bloke that you'd like a boyfriend...."

"OK, OK... I don't need the full love scene from some teen romance! So he's coming tomorrow, after school?"

"No, he's going home to change first, then coming over on his bike..."

Shane went suddenly quiet. "Steve.... Where shall we go? What shall I wear? What will we do...?"

I laughed. "Hey, slow down. Firstly, you can change in here and shower in here, if you don't want to go in the communal showers with the slaves... Although it sounds to me as if that Jason wouldn't mind taking a closer look at them.... In fact, it might be better to do that, as then you'll have something to talk about afterwards, as you can discuss the slaves you liked...."

"But what shall I wear - mom put my best jeans in the wash this morning...."

"Those vile baggy things that hide what you've got? Hey, I thought you were trying to attract Jason! So why don't you pull on those old frayed jeans you used to wear last year? They were tight then, and now they'll really show off your assets....."

Shane looked at me. "Perhaps you're right. And I've got the new designer boxers...."

I laughed. "On a first date, I'd wear nothing. I don't know if he's going to slip his hands inside your jeans, but what a pleasant surprise for him if he does.... And your cock, and more importantly your bum, will show better without any underwear at all. If you do get past first base, anyway, it's much more erotic to see a bloke's cock jerking upwards as he slips his jeans down, rather than worrying about underwear. And if you change together, seeing a bloke without underwear sends a bit of a signal.... "

"You seem to know a lot about this sort of stuff, Steve..."

"In my younger days I used to chase after women, as I'm sure I've told you, and it's not so different. A bloke needs to show off what he's got. And I do know something about what makes a man attractive, you know - the success of the salve business here is testimonial to that."

"I'd better get out and buy some condoms too....". Shane was blushing now. "And that woman in the chemists always looks suspiciously at you, they say...."

"Frankly, I wouldn't bother. Firstly, on a first date it seems to me it's really unlikely you'll get as far as fucking! And I take it you're a virgin?"

"Yes", Shane muttered, as if he was ashamed of it.

"And are you going to fuck Jason, or are you expecting him to fuck you?"

"I don't really know... I hadn't thought about it....."

"It's not the sort of thing you think about, I suppose. But a lot of blokes know whether they want to fuck, or be fucked. But it's not all that important - you kind of know, and it feels right at the time....

But in either case, if you're a virgin, what about Jason?"

"I don't know."

"But you think he might be as inexperienced as you are? Does he fuck with a lot of blokes at school?"

"No! I told you, that's the problem. No one fucks the other blokes at school, that's why they'll all laugh if they found out...."

"OK, let's assume Jason has some experience, but isn't an expert, and we know you have none. So I reckon you'd be advised to stick to a bit of mutual wanking the first time, or perhaps even sucking each other. But if you do get as far as fucking, you won't want to be bothered with condoms and all that - it takes away all the spontaneity. If it seems right, you just want to get in there and get on with it, and not be bothered about opening condoms and stuff."

"But at school they keep telling us we must wear condoms...."

"...And do they tell you how much better it feels to have a bare cock pressing against the other bloke?"

"No."

I shrugged. "Well, it's for everyone to make his own mind up, of course. But fucking in a condom is a bit like wanking yourself wearing latex gloves! You can do it, but it's not as much fun as feeling skin on skin. There's a risk, I know - but life is all about risk, all about spontaneity. If I were you, I wouldn't bother - I never do."

The next evening Shane was hanging around the gate, looking nervous as hell. Then we heard that characteristic noise of a low-powered motorbike, which pulled in and this nice looking kid almsot unravelled himself from it - he was taller than Shane, and obviously older, and I suppose I ought to call him a man, rather than a kid! He had a sports bag with him, and Shane greeted him and they went off into my room. I waited around on the course, and they came out a few minutes later - Shane looking really sexy, with his trim, muscled body showing to good advantage in a pair of tight, brief slave exercise shorts, whereas Jason had brought with him a baggy T and really loose long gym shorts - I hoped he was wearing a jock or something underneath them, before tackling the course.

Shane introduced Jason, and I gave them a few words of advice about safety, then asked them if they wanted to be timed. Then, as I was turning to go, I said casually "...And have you got a bet on it?"

"You mean money?", Jason asked me. He was handsome, I noticed - in another year he'd be really handsome when he'd finally finished maturing, and I felt my cock twitching at the thought of how he'd probably make a winning champion slave, if things were different.

"No... But the slaves who usually do this make it a bit more interesting.... They bet themselves. You know, if two of them fancy each other but neither wants to take the others cock, they bet on it and the winner chooses...."

I saw the look of appalled horror on Shane's face as I said this, but Jason smiled a slow, languorous smile. "Sounds like my kind of place! Hey, Shane.... Are you on for it, then?"

End Of Part Twenty Three