Steve Grows Up
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownsetoticstries
Part 11
I woke up feeling really great the next morning. I gave Rob his breakfast, but the ungrateful bastard still looked really pissed off as I squeezed the slave mush down past the bit. Then I let him shower, and afterwards, I even undid the bit so that he could stand there and shave properly - it's really hard to do it past the metal holding pieces, as you probably know. Of course I was concerned that he'd try to shout or alert people, so I stood there with his slave prod, watching him as he worked away. I don't know if I could actually have prodded Rob - when it had been done to me it hurt so much that I'm not sure that I could easily inflict that kind of agony on another guy myself. But he didn't know that, so was just silent as he made himself look neat, and then knelt there almost resigned as I clipped the bit back in his mouth.
"We need you to look well cared for today, Rob", I told him cheerfully. "I'm crashing over the border, and by lunch time both you and I will be free men. I expect they'll interview you for the local news and such, and I'd hate them to think that I mistreated another guy!" I was in such a good mood that I even let Rob wear a pair of his "regular" shorts, as he'd worn as a free man - there didn't seem to be much point in exposing him to public humiliation by making him appear almost naked in slave shorts in a couple of hours time.
I left him manacled as I went off to breakfast, and had a really good one - fresh juice, ham, eggs, toast.... And I left a really generous tip for the waitress. This was, after all, the last time I'd be spending Rob's money and tomorrow I'd need to find a job, work, and then save, save hard, as I needed to buy mom and dad from the Colonel.
When we got into the SUV I made sure Rob was really strapped in well, as I didn't want him to get injured, and we set off towards the border. I kind of lurked in a side road until I could see that there was no queue of waiting traffic at the check point, then gunned the motor, and drove straight at the barrier that was lowered across the road. Fortunately the SUV was high off the ground, and the heavy wooden pole shattered on the bull bars at the front, and there I was - free! I could see the Canadian checkpoint up ahead, but I was out of the USA. I started to laugh. I was no longer a slave. I was free!
There was a sickening bang and the SUV Skidded to a halt. I threw open the door and leapt out, to see the tyres in shreds - they'd raised one of those spiked strip things and it had taken out all of them. I started to run towards Canada, until I heard a "crack" and I was thrown to the ground. The pain in my leg was indescribable where they'd shot me, but I was so desperate to escape that I started to crawl, dragging myself along the road, digging my fingernails in to the surface as I desperately tried to get purchase.
It was no good, of course, as the border patrol was on me a few moments later, and they dragged me back. At first they were really worried as they thought they'd shot a free man, but once they'd undone Rob's bit they eventually learned the truth - mind you, it took some time as who listens to someone who looks like a slave?
They called a veterinarian to my wound, but he just looked at it and said to the guards "It's not worth fixing. He's in court later this afternoon, and then you know what happens....". Turning to me he went on "Sorry, boy, but your leg will never heal properly as the bone's shattered, but I can give you this for the pain - it ought to last.... I can at least be as humane as possible, in the circumstances", and slid a needle into my butt.
I was dreading the thought of the flogging that must now happen - I wondered how I'd feel with the flesh on my back and butt shredded, and just sat there in the cell under the court in absolute misery. I should have worried! If only I'd known!
It was all over in less than five minutes. I wondered why they'd even bothered to take me into the Court, as I wasn't allowed to say anything, and just had to stand there - slaves are property, after all, and have no right to speak in a free man's Court. Escaping does indeed only warrant a flogging, and perhaps a gelding.
But kidnapping a free man is a capital offence, and the judge barely listened as Rob stammered out how he felt sure I'd never do it again, how I'd always been a good slave until recently, how expensive I was and how he couldn't afford to replace me if I was killed, and some other stuff. "Slave to be publicly executed tomorrow morning", the judge intoned, and that was that.
The guards were really kind - giving me this paper and pen so I could write something for dad. One of them is a bit like dad - same age, same build - and it's almost too much for me to be able to write this as he sits there watching me. He's told me that I have to be watched all the time now as slaves try to kill themselves rather than face execution, and they need the occasional one to remind all the other slaves what would happen to them if they kidnap their masters. I told him my leg was hurting like hell again and he even fetched me a couple of aspirin, telling me that that was all he could do for me that night - it was little enough, but the veterinarian was no longer on duty.
"Boy, you sure fucked it up, didn't you?", he said as he read the pages I'd been scrawling out. "College was only for three years, then you'd have been free of that Jed... and maybe Rob would have sold you on...."
"But my dick... The docking...."
"He might not have done it. And you could have done something else - sent a text to his dad, when Rob wasn't looking, telling him about the way Rob was going to reduce your value, for example. I bet he'd have called that Rob immediately, and forbidden it. They were pissed off at him wasting his inheritance buying you, weren't they? So they'd have stopped him wasting more. Still, too late for that now..."
"What's going to happen to me?"
He looked a little upset. "You've never seen any of these executions on the TV?" I shook my head, and he went on "Well, it's kind of awkward. They want to emphasise that a slave who turns on his master is nothing better than an animal. So they put you down, as if you were an animal."
"You mean an injection, from the veterinarian...?"
"No. That's for family pets. You get put down like they kill animals like sheep, and cattle."
"How's that?"
"You really don't want to know, son... It will upset you."
"No, tell me..... I'm tough. I can take it." I wasn't sure about this, but you may as well put a brave front on.
"Well, early tomorrow, we'll clean you out properly so you're not full of shit as that upsets the watchers when your bowels let go after death. Then we put the ankle cuffs on you - nice, big, firm ones. I'm afraid you're going to be in big trouble with that leg of yours as when we get you out to the scaffold, we hang you up, upside down, by those ankle cuffs, and I think you'll be screaming and hollering as the leg takes the weight of your body. But it's only for a moment - I'll have a word with the slaughter man and when he's got you right off the ground, I'll ask him to make it as quick as possible and not keep you hanging there for the TV cameras - you seem a decent sort of guy, and I don't believe in cruelty to slaves."
"And then....?"
He looked uncomfortable. "And then the slaughterman puts the stun gun to your head, and that's all you'll know, Steve. Your body will thrash around a lot as they slit your throat and all the blood drains out of you, but we're assured you're right out of it, and you won't feel a thing."
"That's barbaric, that's...."
"Look, Steve, I told you it would upset you. But it's not barbaric at all. That's the way millions of sheep and cattle are slaughtered every year. And a slave who attacks his owner is considered to be just an animal, as I said. Just be grateful you were caught here, and not in the next county, which has a strong Jewish element, or twenty miles west, where the Arabs are...."
I sat there and was so stunned by all of this. I heard myself saying "I should be grateful...?"
"Yes. The Jews and the Arabs don't use humane slaughtering methods for sheep - it's just hung there and they slit its throat without stunning it! Everyone knows it's just barbaric, but the bleeding-heart liberals down in Washington won't make them conform to normal slaughterhouse rules as they say it's 'religion'. Even if it was 'religion' I think they should stop it anyway - superstition surely can't be a reason for ill treating animals. But as they don't stun sheep, they don't stun slaves either... And you'd hang there, choking in your own blood."
It's almost time now. They've put the cuffs on my ankles, and I can hear the guards coming down the corridor. The old guard last night has said he'd try to get this stuff to you. Goodbye, mom, goodbye, dad.
I had a great childhood. Thank you. But now I've grown up, I have to take the consequences.
THE END
Author's note: On those rare occasions when I kill off "Steve", my mail box always fills with complaining and protesting readers who tell me that he "deserved" to live happily ever after. This story really can't end like that though, with a happy ending, can it? I mean, if slaves did kidnap their masters and get away with it, it would be the thin end of the wedge towards the collapse of the rule of law. So morality needs, no, demands, that Steve be properly and justly punished for his crimes and the ending as written is what Steve deserves and what society expects.
It is however the season of good will. Although I have absolutely no interest in the celebration of mythical happenings alleged to have taken place years ago, as a special gift to my more sensitive readers, I'll do it again......
Part 11
I woke up feeling really great the next morning. I gave Rob his breakfast, but the ungrateful bastard still looked really pissed off as I squeezed the slave mush down past the bit. Then I let him shower, and afterwards I even undid the bit so that he could stand there and shave properly - it's really hard to do it past the metal holding pieces, as you probably know. Of course I was concerned that he'd try to shout or alert people, so I stood there with his slave prod, watching him as he worked away. I don't know if I could actually have prodded Rob - when it had been done to me it hurt so much that I'm not sure that I could easily inflict that kind of agony on another guy myself. But he didn't know that, so was just silent as he made himself look neat, and then knelt there almost resigned as I clipped the bit back in his mouth.
"We need you to look well cared for today, Rob", I told him cheerfully. "I'm crashing over the border, and by lunch time both you and I will be free men. I expect they'll interview you for the local news and such, and I'd hate them to think that I mistreated another guy!" I was in such a good mood that I even let Rob wear a pair of his "regular" shorts, as he'd worn as a free man - there didn't seem to be much point in exposing him to public humiliation by making him appear almost naked in slave shorts in a couple of hours time.
I left him manacled as I went off to breakfast, and had a really good one - fresh juice, ham, eggs, toast.... And I left a really generous tip for the waitress. This was, after all, the last time I'd be spending Rob's money and tomorrow I'd need to find a job, work, and then save, save hard, as I needed to buy mom and dad from the Colonel.
When we got into the SUV I made sure Rob was really strapped in well, as I didn't want him to get injured, and we set off towards the border. I kind of lurked in a side road until I could see that there was no queue of waiting traffic at the check point, then gunned the motor, and drove straight at the barrier that was lowered across the road. Fortunately the SUV was high off the ground, and the heavy wooden pole shattered on the bull bars at the front, and there I was - free! I could see the Canadian checkpoint up ahead, but I was out of the USA. I started to laugh. I was no longer a slave. I was free!
I drove now slowly and carefully, and when the Canadian guard asked to see my passport, I at once claimed asylum, saying that I was an escaping slave and that I would like the protection of the Canadian Government from the cruel and unusual circumstances of my life in the USA. He smiled at me, slapped me on the back and said "Hey, well done! Welcome aboard, to the land of the free, the really free!". He picked up the phone, dialled something, and said "Another one's made it over..."
I sat there in his office and he made coffee, then I said "Oh.... Let's not forget Rob....", and went out with him to the SUV and freed Rob. I noticed the change in the guard's attitude as I undid the bit from Rob's mouth, and said "Sorry, old buddy, but I had to bring you through all of this... I needed a mock slave with me so that the cops and everyone would think my slave chip was in fact yours.... Still, you'll really have something to tell the guys at college: the girls should be falling over themselves to hear about your adventures...."
I was totally surprised when the guard grabbed me and snapped cuffs on me. I asked him what was the problem, and he looked at me sternly. "Kidnapping's a really serious offence this side of the border too, you know. You brought this free man over here cuffed and muzzled - that's pretty serious."
"Yes, but I explained.... It was part of my escape plan.... I couldn't do it without having Rob along, and he certainly wouldn't come willingly...."
"You're making it worse!", he snapped. "You're admitting you knew what you were doing. This wasn't just a kidnapping that happened 'accidentally' - as might be the case when you have to take a victim when you're surprised in the middle of a crime. No, this sounds as if you planned it. Best to say nothing more, if you ask me."
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I got an excellent lawyer. A really feisty lady from the Canadian Slaves' Defence League. My case came up only a week later, as she pointed out that I had no real defence, and we needed to throw ourselves on the mercy of the Court and the sooner it was over, the better. She argued with the prosecution's lawyers (Rob's dad paid big bucks for them, I'd imagine) pointing out that "crimes" committed south of the border were of no interest to the Canadian Court, and that if they wanted to try them, they'd need to apply for extradition. But, she went on, the Canadian Courts had no history of ever agreeing to the extradition of an escaped slave, as it was well known that a terrible public execution awaited such men and that as a signatory to the Convention On Human Rights, the Canadian Government itself would be breaking the law if I was sent back to face such an awful punishment.
My spirits rose as I realised I was effectively free, but Rob's lawyers smoothly moved on to the next charge on the sheet: and there was no escaping that! I'd actually driven for twenty metres in Canada with Rob in the SUV. So I was guilty of kidnapping under Canadian law, too. It didn't matter how much my lawyer argued the point, the facts were incontrovertible: there was video footage of me crossing through the barrier, of driving up to the checkpoint, and of me helping Rob out of the SUV!
As he handed down sentence the judge remarked that he thought that it was manifestly unfair, but that he had no choice: Canadian law laid down an indeterminate sentence of "from five years to life" for kidnapping, and he had to sentence me to that.
Afterwards, as I sat in the cells waiting to be taken off to the jail, my lawyer came down to see me. "Pretty tough shit, Steve, but we'll appeal, of course..."
"And will we win?"
"Probably not.... But it will keep the case in the public eye, and at least they won't dare keep you longer than five years.... All you've got to do is keep your head down below the parapet and not get into any trouble in prison. Do you think you can obey all the rules and stuff for that long?"
I smiled at her. "Well, I've had a lot of practice. You forget, I was brought up as a slave!".
To his credit, Rob came down to see me, too. He looked through the bars of my cell, and neither of us really knew what to say. Finally, I broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Rob. But I had to do it. You were going to have me 'docked'. And this was the only way I could think of to escape. But I'm sorry about the branding, and everything."
He smiled a bit. "Well, Steve, as you said, at least I'll have a good story to tell at college. Most of the other guys won't have had such an exciting vacation..."
"...but you won't have time, Rob.... All that work you'll have to do for yourself now...."
"Oh, I can easily get another slave. Dad says that we're insured, and the insurance will pay up as you escaped. So it's not worked out too bad, I suppose."
"We were buddies when we were kids, Rob. You told me, shortly after you'd bought me, that everything had changed as 'you can't be friends with a slave'. But we're both free men now...." He put his hand through the bars. "That's right. You're a free man now, Steve. Well, you've got the prison term, but free, not a slave."
I gripped it, and we smiled at each other.
"I'll see you in five years, Rob. You'll have to come up here though. I think you and I have a lot of catching up to do...."
"Yes, Steve. I always enjoyed those sessions with you at the lake. But we're grown up now, and grown men don't just jerk off! Take care in prison, Steve - I want to experience that body of yours again."
He turned and left, and suddenly I felt as if the future might be bright for me.
The End
Publisher's note:
That marks the end of "Steve Grows Up", the first of the autobiographical trilogy that continues with "Steve in Prison" and "Steve in Love", all of which have been runaway best sellers for Canadian author Steven Masters. As readers are almost certainly aware, Mr Masters began the trilogy whilst incarcerated for five years following his escape from slavery, and it is perhaps a tribute to the Canadian penal system that he was able to pursue his craft so single-mindedly, in spite of the terrible privations, humiliation and abuse he suffered whilst in there: publication of "Steve in Prison" sparked a searching public enquiry into the operation of Canadian prisons and their gang culture, and it is hoped that reforms have taken place since then.
Whilst "Steve in Love" is an uplifting story, the terrible sadness the Steve feels where, in spite of his wealth from his books, he is unable to trace and buy his mother, marks it as one of the great tragedies of our time (she was sold off shortly after his escape as being "barren" and past the age when she could continue to bear new slaves for the Colonel). Steve did of course manage to buy his father, and we are all eagerly awaiting the next volume of the series, "Steve, Family Man" where he tells of his current life with his two sons and their grandfather, and his life partner, Rob. It only proves, we think, that whilst "you can't be friends with a slave", two men who have been both slaves and free men can find true happiness.
THE END
Pete Brown. London And Dublin. November and December, 2005.