Steve Grows Up
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownsetoticstries
Part 9
Two days later I was taken to an inspection room again, and this time I was there before the client. It was a guard who took me along, and he told me to assume the display position, and then tugged at the legs of my tiny shorts so that they hung "properly". He seemed to enjoy it - perhaps he didn't often get to be in such intimate contact with a white guy! I'd expected that it would be at least a week before I'd be on display again as they'd want to give time for the red stripes of the caning to disappear, so this really was all most odd - still, perhaps they weren't going to yank down my shorts, so it wouldn't matter. I stood there for about ten minutes, I suppose, and then the same smooth salesman came in... Followed by Rob!
I let go of my hands and stepped forward to greet him.
"Rob....", I said in total surprise. I was so glad to see my old buddy, and knew he must have come to rescue me. The next moment I was writhing in agony on the floor, as the guard ad stepped forward and just touched my back with a slave prod. When my limbs had stopped twitching - well, almost - the guard shouted at me to stand up and take the position, and slowly and painfully I got to my feet.
"I'm sorry, sir", the salesman was saying to Rob "But this slave is still a little troublesome. He wasn't bred as normal, but brought up in a family and that tends to make him a little unpredictable.... When you telephoned we asked you to delay, sir, as following an incident earlier in the week he needed discipline, and, frankly, it deters some buyers when they see the slave's butt crossed with cane marks...."
"Quite." Rob's voice was calm. "I have some knowledge of this slave as he was allowed to attend the same school as the rest of us in the neighbourhood until he reached sixteen, when he was of course taken away and turned into a proper slave. He was always a little headstrong, but the cane marks won't deter me at all."
"You know the slave, sir...?"
"Yes, and that is why I was interested in acquiring him. He's got a good lineage, and with some work to tame him a little more, will be excellent for my purposes. I'm off to college in two weeks, and have decided I need a slave to keep my clothes neat, to exercise with, and to do research and so on for my term papers - I don't want to have to spend all day studying, when there is the social life to pursue."
The salesman coughed and looked a little embarrassed. "You do realise, I expect, sir, that this property is on sale at a very high price? Nineteen year old whiteys just don't come to the market that often, especially not ones like this, with an exceptional body..."
"Oh yes, but I was left an inheritance by an ancient aunt recently, and I've decided that I may as well enjoy it. I noticed the slave on your site, and thought how interesting it would be to have someone with whom I had connections - I used to like him at school, and so it removes the potential problem of having a slave you just can't bear around you all the time."
I thought Rob was just shooting a line to the salesman by all of this, and that he'd really come to rescue me but didn't like to admit it, so I started to relax. Things were definitely looking up. But then when the salesman asked "Are you ready to inspect the property, sir", and Rob said "Yes, of course, be so good as to make him naked", I began to worry again.
When we were about fourteen Rob's father had started taking him to slave auctions, and sometimes ,when we were jerking off, Rob would tell me how his father had let him help in "inspecting" a potential purchase, and we'd both found the idea of handling a big strong guy really sexy. So I guess Rob had experience of this type of thing, as he spared me nothing. His fingers probed around inside my mouth, to make sure all my teeth were real and not on some sort of prosthetic plate (the salesman held a small towel out to him after this, so he could wipe my saliva off his fingers), then he expertly "appraised" my upper body musculature by running his hands all over it, probing and feeling every major muscle group. I just stood there almost numb with shock at the way my old buddy was treating me, especially when Rob rolled my nips between his thumb and forefinger to see how they erected, and was almost laughing as I winced and tried to back away from him. Then he dropped to his knees and felt my thighs and calves, before standing upright again.
"Superb!", he said. "He always did have a good body when I knew him, but these last couple of years he seems to have been hard at work, and he's now put on a lot of power all over him. Now...."
Without even asking or saying anything, Rob grabbed hold of my dick, and began to stroke it. I murmured something to show that I didn't think he ought to be just doing that to me, and Rob looked into my eyes and smiled. "Oh, come on, Steve! You were happy enough to have my fingers playing with your dick a couple of years ago! Still, they did a good job of 'skinning you - the shaft is really neat. No scarring of loose skin at all. And it does really enhance the look of you."
I thought it must be over then, until Rob said casually "Glove?", and then stood there as he pulled a latex glove over his hand. He nodded to the salesman, who ordered me to bend over, and I was flushing with shame and anger as Rob then probed my asshole with first his thumb, and then his finger.
"Commendably tight!", was his opinion, and the salesman agreed. "However, sir, I think it is only fair to point out that in our details of this slave we do say that he seems to be very reluctant to take dick - that's very unusual for a good looking slave like this, of course, but I expect it's part of his upbringing if he wasn't trained as part of a breeding programme. But the reputation of Scabbard and Drass is important to us, sir, and so if you were thinking of using him sexually, you should consider a specialised 'transition' course so that he loses his inhibitions."
"Quite. But I rather think I might enjoy doing that myself."
The salesman just stood there expectantly then, and asked "So, sir, is there anything else, or would you like to move on to signing the contract?"
"No, I'll take him. But I don't want to collect him for two weeks, before I go to college, and in that time there are a few things to be done.... I assume we can negotiate terms?"
He and the salesman left, and I stood there still, wondering that the fuck was happening. If he was going to buy me and rescue me, why didn't he take me there and then and let me spend a couple of weeks with mom and dad and my brothers and sisters? And why hadn't he been more friendly? I mean, we'd known each other for years and years, and had been jack-off buddies.... It seemed strange that he was so distant, and not at all friendly.
That very afternoon, though, I started to find out what the "few things" Rob wanted doing were! It seems he'd decided that he wanted to see real evidence of a "six pack" on me, and so all my other exercises were dropped in favour of endless, endless sit-ups, trunk curls, and other stuff designed to "tone" me there. It was pure agony most of the time, and I was never sure which was worse - the incessant screaming of my tortured muscles, or the "encouragement" meted out to me if the exercise faltered or slowed, from the trainers. Then there was the slave collar - I'd never been collared before, as the Colonel didn't consider it "proper" somehow for a white man to wear a slave collar. But even the fitters at Scabbard And Drass were surprised as it seemed Rob had ordered the standard, heavy, iron collar for me, one of the kinds that dad and I used to fix to the niggas every day and which were held shut with hot rivets. It seemed that "fancy" slaves like me, who were to be used as gentlemen's servants, most often were given silver, or even gold, collars that were relatively light weight and were more "tokens" - the standard iron ones being reserved for field hands and so on.
I think there was a big psychological change in me as I stood up from kneeling by the anvil where the fitters had been doing their work - it felt so heavy around my neck, and cold as it pressed into my skin, and the weight of it was oppressive. I could never doubt now that I was a slave: my collar pressed me down both physically and mentally, and I noticed that there was a change from the ones dad and I used to fit to the niggas, in that there were four "D" rings equally spaced around it. I asked about this, and the fitters said it made it easier to attach a leash, or to hold cuffs at my neck, and this further depressed me - why on earth would Rob want to do that kind of thing to me? But it was the genital ring that finally made me realise that the Rob who had ordered this stuff was not necessarily my old buddy any longer: a thin stainless steel ring was put around the root of my dick and underneath my sac, and squeezed shut and super glued into position - I'd read about cock rings, and how some guys use them to help maintain an erection, but now I'd got one fitted permanently. I was already prone to erect easily if stimulated, and now it got worse - any kind of sexy thought, and I'd feel myself going hard, and then the damned thing wouldn't easily go down again. Of course, to do this they'd had to shave away even the "slave trim" that was all that was left of my pubes, and I was now totally and utterly bare down there, so that the ring could easily be seen, glinting away. When I looked at myself in the mirror I hardly recognised the Steve I knew - I was now something quite different: shaved, ringed and collared to suit my owner's whim, and I knew my freedom was totally gone.
Rob came to collect me personally from Scabbard And Drass so I was spared another ride in a slave transporter. He'd brought along clothes for me, but as I struggled to get into them I wasn't at all amused at the practical joke Rob must be trying to play on me: there were little satin shorts that rode so low down that it was just as well that my pubes had been shaved right off, and I knew the top of my crack was exposed even when standing up, let alone when I bent down. And on top, there was a tiny sleeveless jacket thing also in satin, that was open up the front (and couldn't be closed, so a few inches of my chest were always going to be on show) and which finished about three inches above my navel, and which bore in big black letters on the back the word "Slave" in big letters - as if there'd be any doubt, as no free man would ever go around exposing his body like this. I was fuming as he led me out to the parking lot, and his big, bright new SUV, especially when he opened the rear door and told me I had to sit in the back compartment "as that's where slaves always travel."
"Rob, can we cut it out now, please? We're buddies... Can I have some proper clothes, and sit upfront with you?"
"Steve, I don't think you remember our last conversation. I told you then that you ought to call me 'sir' as I was a free man, and you're not doing it!
In fact, now that I'm your owner, you should in future call me 'master'. You're my slave, I own you, and if I want to dress you in the latest fashion for 'fancies', I will - I've got a reputation to build at college, you know! I want to be one of the guys on campus that everyone talks about, and who they look to for 'what's new' and fashionable. And as for sitting in the luggage space, well, suppose someone from the college were going along the same highway and saw us sitting together? They'd think I didn't know how to handle slaves, wouldn't they?"
"But R... Master, we were buddies.... I used to look out for you when some of the other guys at school were trying to bully you... We used to jerk off together..."
"And now we're master and slave, Steve. I've done my best, and I think I've repaid all those years of you 'looking out for me'. Wouldn't you rather be owned by me, than by some masters - or mistresses - who might treat you very badly indeed? And there won't be any more jerking off, anyway - we're grown men now, and I fuck properly. I bought you because I knew your pedigree, because it reduces the risk of what I was buying, knowing so much about you.... And because you've turned into a really stunning piece of male flesh that I'm going to enjoy, the sort of slave that a gentleman of fashion would be expected t o own.. But you'd better believe, Steve, that I'm serious about this - any trouble from you, any trouble at all, and I won't hesitate to have you caned, or even flogged: a lot of guys take their personal slaves to college these days, and there's even a resident whipmaster."
We'd gone through the town now and were heading for the highway, and I tried pleading with Rob. "Master, please, could you just stop at the forge, so I can say goodbye to mom and dad - they'll be worrying about who'd bought me, and sacred that I'll be shipped miles away. Whereas if I'm your slave, I'll be back here for vacations...."
"Listen, Steve, forget it! Cut all this crap about mom and dad - you're a slave, my slave, and you owe all your duty and loyalty to me, and me alone. No, I won't take you back to the forge, as there's no point as it will only distract you from your new duties. And you won't be coming back here for vacations anyway, as at the college they will board you and pay me a small hire fee so you can work away around the campus doing repairs and maintenance. I'll be travelling extensively, I expect, and I can't take you to Europe anyway as they don't allow slaves there."
"But master..."
"One more word, Steve, and I'll stop this thing right now and give you a prod with the slave prod - I've bought one of those, too, and I won't hesitate to use it on you. You've got to start thinking like a proper slave, Steve, because, as I said, I've invested in you to make a statement on campus.... And I want the other students to be impressed by me as a slave owner, not laughing about the fact that my slave is unruly and uppity, even though he is stunningly good to look at! So shut the fuck up - and perhaps you'd better reflect on that old saying 'you can't be friends with a slave'. I think that's so true, Steve - I'm your owner now, and the rules have changed."
With that Rob flicked on the CD to some of the awful pulsing rock he liked, and further conversation was impossible anyway. And he played it at full volume for the next couple of hours, all the way to his college, and apart from the fact that I hated the music, it was pretty grim for me as the rear speakers were right next to where I was cramped up in the luggage space!
Rob just left me locked in the SUV whilst he went off to register, and as the sun was out, it soon got fucking hot in there. One of the windows was open a crack, and I was forced to do what you see dogs doing in cars - desperately pushing my nose to the crack so I could get as much cool air from outside in as possible. Even so, I was soaking in sweat by the time Rob came back, and to add to my other miseries about my skimpy clothing, the satin had gone more or less translucent with the perspiration - I guess it was just a well I was basically smoothly shaved all over the area the shorts attempted to cover, as seeing the brown of my skin through the satin wasn't as bad as also seeing a big clump of wiry pubes.
He just did nothing - I was supposed to get the first load of stuff out of the SUV and follow Rob as he strode towards the dorm, and when we found his room he selected one of the two beds in there, and airily told me to start hanging up his clothes, and then to go and fetch the rest of the stuff! He lay there watching me as I worked away, but there always seemed to be something wrong - the hangers weren't lined up, or the socks were not supposed to be in the same drawer as his underwear.... By the time I had struggled up the stairs with the fifth and final load, there was another guy in the room - a huge guy, bigger than me, and strongly muscled.
"Jed, this is my slave I was telling you about - he's called Steve. And if you want him to do anything for you, just tell him. As we're roomies, you'd better use him as if he was yours."
"Hey Rob, you're a real gentleman! My old man wouldn't let me bring my own body slave with me as he said it was 'character forming' if I had to do all my own ironing and shit like that. And I've got enough to do - the football team here is really serious, and I'll be practising every afternoon and evening.... I think they might only have taken me as they want me on the team, as my grades weren't particularly good."
Rob just looked at me, and snapped "Go down with master Jed and fetch his stuff up, too. And be quick about it...."
So five more loads of stuff to carry, and all this seemed much heavier than Rob's as Jed was so big, and because he had a whole lot of stuff like helmets and pads and so on that weighed a ton. In-between times I caught snatches of conversation between Rob and Jed, and Jed was patiently explaining that at his high school the clever guys did all the term papers for the football players, and that he expected Rob to do the same - that's why they'd put he and Rob in the same room, rather than putting him in with another member of the team. Rob equally patiently was explaining that this wasn't going to happen, as he, Rob, didn't intend to do much work anyway as he was really here for the social life. I deliberately held back in the corridor as Jed casually reached over and grabbed Rob's shirt, pulling him to his feet and holding him close. "Look, Rob, I don't want to labour the point, but I'm a footballer. And if you give me any trouble, I'm bigger, and stronger.... And my other team mates won't be too pleased, either. So we'd better understand that I need good grades, and it's your job to get them..."
I went in then, and the two men stood there glaring at each other. "Get out and find the slave quarters, Steve", Rob snapped. "I won't need you tonight, but find out how to wake me with coffee at seven. And for master Jed."
I turned and went, but I heard Jed laugh at Rob "You can't even control a slave properly - if my body slave had ever left like that, with out saying 'Yes, master, as you order', I'd have had him across my knee and spanked his butt until he was screaming for mercy. Still, he's a nice looking guy, with a cute butt. Does he fuck well?"
I stopped and pressed myself close to the still open door. "Oh sure. A really tight ass. But he can be difficult, as he doesn't really like it."
Jed laughed again. "Where did you grow up, Rob? On our demesne it wasn't whether the niggas liked a dick up their asses or not - they're slaves, right? What's liking got to do with it?"
All of this made it sound as if life at college was not going to be easy, and it was with some trepidation that I went off to find the slave quarters - there was a nigga in the corridor, collared as I was, so I asked him and he took me down to the basement and into a very small room next to the laundry, which was apparently where the slaves brought by students were meant to live. It was clean enough, I suppose, and there were bunk beds stacked three high along one wall, with an opening leading into what was obviously a communal shower and shitter. The only light in the room though was from a single, low-wattage bulb in the ceiling (I don't suppose they thought slaves would wish to read in bed!), except that which came in from a narrow window high up near the ceiling - too high to see out of. All in all, it was pretty depressing, but I soon found out that there were only four of us personal slaves in the building and so it wasn't as bad as it might have been.
My life settled down to a routine of hell: every morning I had to be up, showered and shaved so that I could run over to the coffee place in the main building and run back with fresh coffee for Rob and Jed by seven - the place didn't actually open until seven, and I tried explaining this to Rob, but he fucking didn't care. So I had to be there at least twenty minutes before so I could be at the front of the line waiting for it to open, and even then, however hard I ran, I was still "late" which Rob then used as a reason for punishing me if I did anything else wrong later in the day!
Both of them liked to be sucked free of their morning erections as they lay there watching the TV news and sipping their coffee, and after they'd ambled off to the showers they'd come back and dress ready for the day - Rob was an absolute pain as he'd frequently change his mind about which shirt or sweater he was going to wear, and just dump the rejects on the floor, and that all added to the work load on me as he insisted that all the stuff in his closet was freshly, crisply ironed.
Rob went to the classes that interested him, but Jed spent most of the day at the gym or on the field, and Rob and Jed seemed to have reached agreement on how Jed's class work was going to be done by simply telling me that I was responsible for it. As, indeed, I was for all the research and first drafts of Rob's own term papers. So most of the day I was stuck on the PC, frantically researching and hacking some sort of stuff together, except, that is, when I was doing the laundry, ironing all their stuff, making the beds, and all the other crap they couldn't be bothered with.
Sometimes Jed would come back at lunchtime as he was horny, and then I soon discovered that protesting about being fucked was not an option - the first time he tried it and I demurred, he told me that Rob had said he could use me as a slave, and that he always fucked his body servant at home. Then, when I still refused, he stormed out, to come back with some of his buddies from the football team.
Having three of them fuck me - especially after Jed had caned me six times as his buddies held me down on the bed - taught me not to argue with him about things like that, and so at least four times a week he took his pleasure of me. When Rob saw this, he too seemed to pluck up courage and used me most nights as well. And, of course, the slightest failure on my part - a low grade, work not completed on time, a shirt of item of football kit not immaculately pressed - and both of them seemed to relish having me bend over the bed so they could use a paddle on me (Rob had become concerned after the first few times Jed caned me, as he said that he didn't want the skin and muscle of my butt damaged irreparably as it would reduce my value).
I hardly got to go out, and my fitness was falling away, I know, until Rob decided to take up swimming "seriously" again and at least, then, I got to do some stuff. He liked to race against someone, and at the times he used the pool most of the other guys were in class, and so he hit on the simple solution of taking me as his opponent. Although I relished the exercise, it was dreadful as it further cut into the time I needed to do the other stuff and so I had to work on way into the night sometimes. But what was worse was that Rob decided I didn't need a costume: "You're a slave, Steve, and it's OK for slaves to be naked on campus", he said airily. "I allow you to wear stuff normally, but here in the pool, it's ridiculous!"
It was true, I suppose - the lifeguards and the other guys who did stuff like clean the pools and keep the changing areas tidy were all naked niggas, but when I first went out from the changing room into the pool area some of the girls who were in there swimming shrieked and pointed, as they thought I was a free man! Rob, the bastard, used it as a means of getting to know them as he went up to them and told them that it was OK as I was a slave. Then he'd call me over and I had to stand there as he pointed out my collar - and then couldn't resist drawing attention to the metal ring around my dick and balls that was keeping me half-hard! It was good to be able to swim naked, though and it wasn't just the thought that I wasn't quite as "different" when I was in the water as out of it that made it good - no, I enjoyed the feeling of it rippling all over me, especially my dick and balls.
Rob always won our "races", though, as I was seriously hampered by the heavy metal collar around my neck. Not only did it destroy my natural rhythm, but I had to exert a whole lot of extra effort in actually staying afloat - with that weight, I was no longer naturally buoyant and it took constant effort to stop myself drowning.
About the only bit of pleasure I got at college was with my fellow slaves, down in our cramped basement room at night - and even then, not every night. Like me, they were generally so tired from the constant work that it took a huge effort o decide that we'd get together and fuck.
Still, I was looking forward to the break, as surely I'd get a chance to see mom and dad and the kids. But after I'd got all Rob's stuff packed and taken it - and all of Jed's - down to their cars, Rob had another surprise for me! Instead of heading for the highway home, he went to the other side of the campus to the "General Services" building, where I found out that he'd decided to hire me out, as he'd said he would that first day, to the college during the break. I was sad about not seeing mom and dad, of course, but the life wasn't all that bad, I suppose - well, not after I'd got used to being coffled! On the work details around the campus as we swept the parking lots and dug over the flower beds and all that kind of stuff, we were coffled together with a chain through our collars - and worked naked, of course, as it was easier for the supervisor to "encourage" us with the tawse that way as so much more of our flesh was easily accessible. It wasn't the actual nudity I minded - I supposed I'd got used to that by now, and, anyway, there weren't all that many people around to see - but how would you feel, the only white guy chained in a coffle with seven niggas? Mind you, after the unrelenting work for Rob and Jed, this wasn't so bad - sure, it was tiring physically, but once the coffle chain had been pulled through our collars at night and we were safely locked in the communal sleeping cage, we were still "fresh" mentally. And, as usual in life, I discovered that a guy who's got a nice big dick and who knows how to use it, and who enjoys using it, is very much in demand!
So this was my life - acting as slave to Rob and Jed, doing all their personal stuff and most of their class work, then working like a nigga (literally!) in the breaks. But I think the thing Rob most enjoyed was having me "around" - not as a buddy, but as the ultimate status symbol to say to folk what a neat kind of person he was. As I've mentioned, there weren't a whole lot of personal slaves around the place anyway, and at least for the first few months, I was certainly the only "whitey". At the pool, or at any of the innumerable parties that Rob liked to go to and which I also had to attend (so I could just stand there at slave rest, against the wall, ready to "help" Rob home as he usually got very drunk indeed), I was a great "conversation piece" and Rob used me shamelessly as a means of chatting up the women. I soon found out that all these "southern belles" liked nothing more than to be able to run their fingers over the skin of a real man, or gently touch my nips, or feel the outline of my dick through the thin satin of my shorts, and Rob was happy for them do to this as long as they then went off to dance with him, or make out.
The problem with being a status symbol, though, is that it doesn't necessarily last! As it got towards the end of the first year several other "whiteys" had started to appear around campus, and even though Rob tried to make me "different" by deciding that I should go naked all the time, my uniqueness - and his status - was evaporating and people started to see Rob as the shallow person he was. It secretly amused me to watch his increasingly desperate efforts to talk to the women at parties as I stood there against the wall, especially when some of them kind of "took pity" on me and came over and gave me little cocktail savouries or potato chips to eat. When Rob saw them doing this he stormed over and forbad me to eat them, and that only made him look more of a heel.
Rob's kind of crafty, though, and when he started to spend a lot of time on the PC himself, telling me to get out of the room as he did so, I began to wonder what he was up to. When he'd gone out one morning, therefore, I risked a beating that night as I'd be behind in my normal work by browsing the cache on the PC for pages he'd retrieved, and then using one of those special programs that goes through the mail logs and "recovers" supposedly deleted messages. I broke out with a cold sweat of horror at what I found.
Firstly, he'd been to a whole lot of sites like "Calm Your Slave!" And "Slave Decoration And Body Modification Magazine." It seems that what this lot were peddling now for the "advanced" slave owner was the concept they called "docking" - in the sense that you'd dock the tail of a dog! The gist of the argument was that if you had an "uppity" slave who was reluctant to obey orders, the traditional way of dealing wit h it was simply to geld him, which appeared to be "guaranteed" to calm him down. But, as they went on "There are problems. Gelded slaves can become fat and slothful as their male hormones drain away, and the perfection of their muscles can be adversely affected. No owner wants all the fuss and expense of constant hormone injections, especially as if these are not judged correctly, the slave will no longer be 'calmed'. No, the solution is docking - remove the penis of the slave, so he can no longer jerk off or fuck. The slave's testicles continue to produce semen, which the slave is no longer able to release by stimulation. The slave will become willing and obedient as his only hope of relief is for his master to fuck him, so that the action of the master's penis on the slave's prostate will trigger relief. A slave who relies on his master like this will be highly motivated to obey, and obey willingly, all his master's orders."
"Slave Decoration" added that "A docked slave will be the 'must have' accessory for next season - why have just a brand or a tattoo, when you can show your complete mastery of the male slave by displaying him naked, without even a dick to hide his balls? Docking is especially effective for slaves with large, low hanging balls, as these are then completely accessible to the eye and can no longer nestle behind the penis."
My own large, low-hanging balls made up their minds to pull up into my body as I read this!
I read on "Simple! Cheap! An easy operation for your local veterinarian. And no complications - the salve can still urinate through the stub, and there's no risk of unsightly dribbles of urine as the flow is controlled from the bladder." And, worse, and I could see why Rob was interested now "Why don't you become the first owner in your area to have a slave docked? Show how progressive you are, by using the latest techniques for slave control. Meet new people, as you explain what has gone on..."
In the e-mails there was a note from Rob to the veterinarian at home, enclosing the stuff from these sites, and saying that when we got home for the summer vacation Rob would like it done to me! I was really sweating now, but calmed down a bit when I eventually found the reply. "Rob - I'm sorry, but I am unable to comply with your request. In the same way that responsible veterinarians refuse to dock the tails of dogs, so also do we refuse to remove the dicks from slaves. Dogs rely on their tales to help them express their personality, and in the same way, a slave needs a dick so that he maintains an image of himself as a man, albeit a very subservient one. If Steve really is a problem - and I'm surprised at that, as he always seemed to be perfectly respectful and obedient when he was at the forge - I am of course willing to perform a routine 'calming' by the removal of one, or both, testicles as this is a standard, recognised veterinary practice. Done properly and sensitively, the appearance of the slave need not even be affected as the sac can be slit from the rear, the testicle(s) removed, and replaced by prosthetic ones before the sac is sewn up. Let me know what you think."
Rob had declined, thank god! And I was starting to calm down, when I found the same correspondence with a veterinarian in the next town , who evidently did not have the same moral scruples! Further notes revealed that Rob was planning to have me sliced off down to no more than half an inch, and that provided it was done in the first week or so of the summer vacation, there would be no unsightly scarring by the time we came to return to college.
It was therefore with very mixed feelings that I packed up both guys' stuff and carried it down to the parking lot, and then got into the luggage compartment of Rob's SUV. I was really desperate to see dad and mom again, but was he really serious about this docking stuff? Surely he knew that he'd be taking thousands of dollars off my value, as I'd certainly be no use for breeding!
There seemed to be some sort of row going on between Rob and his parents when we arrived home - he evidently had not told them before that he'd used some of his inheritance to buy me - they'd been pretty pissed off, it seems, at the waste of a brand new SUV, but a slave was too much. Especially a slave like me, top of the range, exotic, and expensive! I remembered how nice Rob's mom had been to me when I was a kid (although she'd changed when I became a "proper" slave at sixteen), but now she was really hostile, and it was so unfair as it wasn't my fault, was it? And I heard Rob and his dad having a furious row about the fact that he and his mom had been disturbed the previous night when Rob had noisily fucked me in his bedroom, before sending me down to the slave quarters.
Rob's dad said that no son of his was going to fuck under his roof until he was married, and Rob countered by saying that of course he wouldn't fuck a girlfriend there until they were married, but that what he'd done was merely "used a slave", which was really only just like jerking off, and surely his father didn't want to forbid that, did he?
Still, I felt "safe" with Rob's parents around as they were so cross with him at having "wasted" his money on me that I knew he wouldn't dare do the "docking thing" and really reduce my value. I didn't get to see mom and dad, though, as Rob kept me pretty busy keeping his clothes neat and tidy, and in exercising by swimming in the lake, and he even went so far as to say that if he caught me sneaking off up there, he'd order me to be whipped, as I needed to remember that my loyalty was totally to him now. I realised this state of affairs wasn't going to last, though, when Rob's mother's maid and his father's valet came down to the slave quarters and started complaining about all the extra work in getting out the trunks for their master's and mistress's trip to Europe. I just knew that as soon as their car drove off to the airport, Rob would be driving me in the SUV to the veterinarian in the next town.
End Of Part Nine.