Steve's First Job by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at Groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 6
Stu: Hey, I've had a great day! Rather than wait whilst the mechanics at the depot got their lazy asses together and found time to assemble my dray, I decided to let my slaves do it. Funny that - I've started to think of them as "my" slaves, even though they belong to the company. Maybe this bonding thing is getting to me, and it's some sort of two-way process. Anyway, rather than have them waste another day on the exercise machines, I told them they could put the dray together themselves, and before long all eight of them were swarming over the packing crate it arrived in, then beginning to assemble it. It was kind of erotic, actually, to see eight totally nude guys working away - I mean, I'd been used to seeing them exercise and so on, but that's really different from seeing guys WORKING in the buff! For one thing, there's always an interesting interplay of muscles as they move their bodies in all sorts of ways, and for another, there are some parts of every task where two or more of them need to work closely together and so their bodies are touching. Add in a generous helping of sweat, as some parts of the dray, like the flat-bed and the axles, are really heavy, and you have the perfect recipe for making my shorts tent out very visibly.
It took the most of the morning - you know how it is with any kind of "flat pack" stuff: there's a set of instructions that appear to have been translated from Japanese from someone without a command of either Japanese or English! So there were lots of false starts, with bits being attached in the wrong way and so on. But, as I watched, it became clear that order was being created and things were progressing - two had the instructions in his hands and was rapping out orders to the others, who were obeying him. I guess it was his background as a sergeant that naturally made him assume control of "his" squad, and I have to say it really did work to get the task completed. Mind you, I wasn't all that happy about seeing two begin to reassert himself, after I'd taken so much trouble to "tame" him and make him a slave just like the others.
When it was done I was especially pleased to see the slaves taking a real pride in their work - they didn't just assemble the dray, but went over to the workshops and borrowed buckets, cleaning rags and polish, and gave the whole thing a thorough going over so that it absolutely sparkled and shone in the sunlight - it must be the military's love of "spit and polish" coming through, I think. I was so pleased that I told them to kneel, and went along the line giving them one of my "slave treats" as a reward.
I was feeling a bit sweaty and anxious, actually, as the time had come and I couldn't delay taking them out for their first run pulling the dray. I'd known that this was always going to happen of course, but I'd sort of pushed thinking about it to the back of my mind - there's a lot of worry, if you are really concerned: Will the slaves perform properly? Will they try to escape? Will they be rude to the customers and passers by? Will they obey my orders properly? Will I be able to exert the proper control over them in the streets as I've done in the depot? It's a big responsibility, you know - these eight big, tough, strong slaves , and the reputation of the Company riding on them as we get a lot of our business from repeat customers, and we don't want to upset them in any way whatsoever.
Whilst the slaves knelt there I went along the line and muzzled them - it's a bit of a matter of choice, as some draymen always muzzle their slaves, and some don't. I thought I would, at least initially, as it takes away one of the potential sources of difficulty in that whatever else happened it would prevent the slaves from being rude to people in the streets. It was a real shock for them, though: the muzzles we use are specially designed to allow them to breathe freely as they're working hard, so there's a circular plate with a hole in it that fits over the front top and bottom teeth and prevents the slave from totally closing his mouth, and at right angles to that there's a flat plate that stretches into his mouth and keeps his tongue pressed down. The combination of not being able to fully close the mouth and the depressed tongue means that any attempts at speech just come out as mumbled garbage! There's a trick to getting the thing fitted, though, as you have to get the slave to fully open his mouth to get the circular part over the teeth, and once you've got this done you take the side bars - flexible metal, rather like the arms on spectacles - around his head and snap them shut at the back, locking them closed. Once you've done that the slave can't get the plate off his teeth or tongue, and it's all done. I have to say that I fumbled the first few I did and it took much longer than it should have done, but when I got to two I was pretty proficient, and I really didn't deserve the cruel looks he gave me as I took away his power of speech.
I lined them up and took then back to the shitter next, as I didn't want any unfortunate incidents on our first trip out, and, to tell you the truth, Stu, I'd forgotten to ask Jon what we did about slaves who needed to crap or piss whilst we were out working. None of them crapped, as they were all now used to the concept of regular feeding and regular crapping, but most of them pissed, so it was worth the effort. I led them back out to the dray and for this first time I had them lined up numerically - one and two on the front left pushing bars, with three and four on the front right; and five and six behind one and two, and seven and eight behind three and four. They all stood there, their hands gripping the pushing bars in front of them, and I could see them wrapping their fingers around the smooth polished wood, as if they knew that this was going to be where they would be for many hours from now on. We were almost ready for "the off", but I had one more thing to do: as they stood there, I went around taking a tether chain from its attachment on the dray through the "D" rings on each slave's collar in turn, closing the loop by attaching the other end back to the tethering point. There was now no possibility of the slaves escaping or even moving more than a couple of feet away from the dray. Equally importantly, they would see themselves as part of the "system": the dray and slaves joined together practically by the chain, but symbolically binding them into their servitude as part of the whole; they were no more important than the dray itself. Of course you can't work like this in practice, so the tether chain is really only useful in training: Jon says that some draymen never get to trust their slaves and therefore have to deliver the packages themselves, some allow one or two slaves not to be tethered so they can do deliveries, rotating the "free" slaves daily, but all of this makes more work fro the drayman. Good draymen have their slaves properly trained so that the tether chain is only used as a mark of shame after some unfortunate incident, and all eight slaves can participate in heavy or bulky deliveries if necessary. Naturally I want to be the best, so my slaves will eventually stand there freely by the pulling bars, but for now, they would be tethered.
I climbed up into the driving seat and cracked my whip a few times experimentally - not to strike them, you'll be glad to hear, Stu, but to let them get used to the whistling sound it makes in the air and the "crack" the leather end can make if you jerk your wrist back properly. Then I gave them the order to move forwards, and with a fair degree of accuracy, we headed for the depot gates. I can tell you, Stu, I was really excited to be taking my dray and these magnificent slaves out for the first time - it was just like when dad bought me my first car, and when he then gave me the trap and slave I now prefer to use, only more so! But as we got to the gates and they opened and the slaves saw the busy highway thronged with cars, trucks, and cycles, with the pedestrians all over the sidewalks, they faltered: I think it suddenly occurred to them that they were going to be very publicly visible, very much "on display". They'd got used to being naked around the depot, in the cage and on the training machines, but now the realisation was striking them that their naked bodies, clothed only in their collars and cock rings, were utterly and totally exposed to all these people; and there was nothing they could do about it, as they were tethered to the dray, and they had to keep their hands on the pushing bars and certainly could not even attempt to cover their genitals! It ought to be a valuable lesson for them on their road to total slavery, as they came to realise that all a slave needs is his collar - a slave has no reason to be modest, no need to be ashamed of his body. If his owner decides that he should appear naked, it should be no concern of the slave as he is merely obeying his owner's instructions.
Anyway, they had their concerns and fears, and I had mine. I told them to pull out into the traffic, and turn left as we were going to head downtown. They looked at each other, knowing they were going to achieve maximum public exposure that way, but there was nothing to be done, was there? Especially when I cracked my carriage whip a couple of times in the air above their heads, to remind them I was firmly in control. I may have looked it, in my uniform, sitting up there on the high seat, but inside I was almost as scared as they were, but in different ways. A dray with its team of slaves on the pole out front is long and big, and it's fairly slow to react - the slaves just can't accelerate out of a potential problem, as you can in a car. Could I control these men, avoid danger to them and to other users of the highway? I decided to set a stiff pace right from the outset, and ordered a light jog, and by the time we'd gone through the seven sets of lights into the downtown area, they were sweating almost as much as I was! Fortunately for them, perhaps, the lunchtime rush was over so there weren't that many pedestrians to look at them as we bowled along, neatly in step (all that military training coming out again), and by the time we were out on to River Road I felt much more confident and in control.
As you know, Stu, I've had my own trap for a year, and I'd got used to the slave being able to take me more or less wherever I wanted to go in the neighbourhood with only minimal commands. I once tried to drive a real trap, with a real horse, on a "dude ranch" on vacation, and it was so difficult and frustrating: you have to guide the fucking thing every inch of the way with the reins, and you can't enjoy the scenery or anything. A slave pulling the trap is so much better (and your view of the slave's ass is so much nicer than the great rump of a horse!), and I suppose I'd though that driving the dray would be very much like that - I'd tell the slaves where to go, and that would be it. But of course it's all different in the heart of the city, as in going from the depot to "point A", there are different possibilities, and all the way along, given the mostly grid pattern of our streets, someone has to decide when to take a turn and when to continue straight on.... you can't rely on the slaves to do it, as there are eight of them and one might think that turning into fourteenth street is a good idea, whereas another might think it's a better idea to go on to fifteenth street before turning. So driving the dray is much more of a "hands on" experience than driving the trap, and I needed to keep my wits about me. There are compensations, though: instead of just one slave, you've now got eight beautiful bodies with big strong muscles working away in front of you!
I hadn't really meant to on this first trip, but once you're on River Road it's easy to find yourself suckered on to the off ramp for Piney Hills Road, and as we began the much steeper ascent I wished there had been an easy turn-off - but it's a divided highway, if you remember, for the first mile or so, and so I had no opportunity to turn around and we had to continue. The slaves were really starting to sweat now as it's one thing to jog along on the level, and quite another to jog up Piney hills Road, and I would have allowed them to slow down a bit except that I didn't want to delay the following traffic too much: my dray has the company name and an 0800 number on the back, and I didn't want a string of complaints going back to base from those drivers and their cell phones! So the slaves had to keep on jogging, and as they did begin to tire, they also started to slow down - I hadn't meant to, as I said, but there was little practical choice but to use my carriage whip for what it was intended, and I lashed out at the butts of the four corner slaves - one, four, five and eight - to remind them that they needed to keep up the pace, and then, of course, I needed to do two three, six and seven as well, as they also needed "encouragement". And before you criticise me, Stu, let me remind you tat this is a CARRIAGE whip, as I said, not a bullwhip. It stings - stings pretty badly, I should say, judging by the way the slaves jerk forward as it makes contact with their bare flesh - but it does no permanent damage. There's a red mark on the skin, of course, but that fades within a few hours, and other than that there's no harm done.
We've played there often enough, Stu, so you should remember that there's a turn off for Piney Hills Golf club about half way along Piney Hills Road, and so I allowed them to pull in there to get off the main highway. We went up the drive and into the parking lot, and I allowed the slaves to rest, and got down to take a look at them. It's a bit odd, really, to see them with these metal rings around their mouths and the "wings" holding them in place, but they were doing their jobs in that the slaves were breathing freely. We stood there for a few minutes and I noticed that the slaves were looking at the caddies in their enclosure at the edge of the parking lot - it occurred to me then that these ex-soldiers probably would never have played at an exclusive course like Pine Hills as they couldn't afford the fees (and when we went there, I always had to pay for you, if you remember, Stu), and so they would not have seen before the way that caddies are dressed at places like Piney Hills - or, rather, should I say "undressed"! Do you remember, Stu - they're totally naked, with only that small strip of hair on their heads and that stripe running down their heads, arms, bodies and legs? And the chain "waistcoats" that you can holster your clubs in, and which keep the caddies' arms neatly at their sides? I said to my slaves "See, guys, you could have a worse job that being in the dray - how would you have liked it to have been inked like that when you were their age?" They couldn't reply, of course, but I think it's important to communicate with your slaves every now and then, just to show them you're interested in them.
It wasn't busy at Piney Hills that afternoon as rain was threatened, and the parking lot was mostly empty. It seemed to me therefore to be a good opportunity for the slaves to practice reversing the dray - it's not that easy, as the main pulling pole isn't rigidly attached to the dray but has a swivel fixing. So when the slaves move backwards, the dray tends to move in the opposite direction - it's like trying to reverse a car with a trainer on it! I knew that when we were "working for real" we'd often end up in confined spaces, and one-way streets and things like that, and so the slaves needed to have good control and be able to manoeuvre the dray in tight places. This was an ideal opportunity to practice, and I spend a couple of hours with them turning the dray in tight circles, and reversing it in to small spaces, which I marked out with piles of stones. I was glad to see how their confidence increased as we practised, and we were making real progress when the first drops of rain started to fall out of the sky.
It's not too bad for me - underneath the seat there's a waterproof for the driver, and a hat: it's like a big, long poncho that I simply pulled over my head and which was long enough so that when I was sitting down my whole body was covered, and the hat had a really broad brim all the way around to deflect the rain onto the shoulders of the poncho and not allow it to trickle down my neck. Rain is hard for the slaves, though, on their naked bodies: it's like trying to work in a running shower constantly, except that the water is cold, and with the big drops we get down here, they sting the skin when they hit. I could see the slaves already looking very uncomfortable as we set off, and before long, when it really began to pour down, I really did feel sorry for them as they looked so miserable. There was nothing to be done, though, as it looked as if the rain had set in for the day so there was no point in taking shelter, and, anyway, once we were working "for real" that would never be an option as all our deliveries are timed and you can't take a beak and wait for the rain to pass over. They might as well get used to our working conditions, and so I cracked the whip to indicate that they should move up from a jog to a run, as I thought it would be preferable to get the journey over as quickly as possible. We got caught up in the traffic downtown, though, as it always snarls up when it rains as you probably remember, and as we stood there in an almost stationary queue of traffic, I could see them starting to shiver as the cold rain cooled their skins down.
By the time we got back to the depot the rain was running off them - none of them was even vaguely erect in spite of their cock rings and the running, and the water was trickling off the end of their dicks just as if they were pissing. After we'd backed the dray into the storage building - I was proud of this, as even some experienced draymen find this bit difficult - I leapt down and went and undid the chain holding them to the dray, and pulled it trough their collars so they were free. They're supposed to stand there until given the order to "dismiss", of course, but I didn't have the heart to even think about disciplining them when they quickly huddled all together, running their hands all over each others bodies in a frantic effort to get some warmth back into themselves. So even though there was no need to, as they were clean enough from the rain, I marched them over to the showers and let them stand there under the hot water until they looked a lot better - at least with their gags still in they couldn't be accused of that thing that happens when you're frozen - there was no chattering of teeth!
Although it was still early there didn't seem much point in doing anything else that day in the rain, and I decided I'd quit early so that I could make it back home - I'd had a good day, and I wanted to tell dad about it - so I decided to feed them then and not wait until their regular feeding time. So I had them kneel in their feeding line, and as I was pleased with them I popped a "slave treat" into each of them before I inserted the feeder tube. That's one advantage of these gags with the hole in them - you can feed the slaves without needing to remove the gag.
When I'd finished, I ordered them into their cage, and they all stood there looking at me as I locked the gate, their mouths held open in that big "O" shaped rictus. Two pointed at his mouth and made a kind of desperate sound, and I went over to him. He gestured frantically at his gag, indicating that he wanted it out, and I gestured to him to turn around and used the special key from my belt to undo the straps holding it in. He almost tore the gag out of his mouth, and stood there looking at me. "Yes, two, you need to say something?" He looked astonished, and burst out "Sir, you can't be planning to keep us like this over night.
It's bad enough being gagged and chained to the dray during the day... But keeping us gagged all the time, sir.... It's treating us like animals!". I looked at him and said quietly "Two, you just don't get it, do you? You are animals - slaves. You have no need to speak normally, and so why shouldn't you be gagged? It saves me the worry that you might have some unseemly outburst like this, and upset the customers. It doesn't interfere with me feeding and watering you as the feeder and water tubes go through the hole in the middle, and so where's the problem?"
He just slumped, as if my logic was irresistible, and said quietly now "Sir, please don't treat us like this. We are men, just like you, sir, and we like to talk to each other at night....". I stopped him abruptly right there. "You are NOT men, two. You are slaves. And I have decided that my slaves are going to be silent, and so for a few days at least I'm going to keep you gagged - I may decide that you're all calm enough at some point to be allowed to go ungagged, but that's my decision. However it does occur to me that you were good today in supervising the other slaves to assemble the dray, and it was useful to be able to speak. So although I'm going to keep the other slaves gagged, you may leave yours off so that you can continue in that role." I saw two considering this, and then, in what was clearly an obvious gesture of solidarity with the others, and of defiance for me, he put the gag back in his own mouth, and reached behind his head and snapped the fastening closed himself. He stood there, upright and proud, radiating his moral superiority, and I knew that I needed to do "something" to knock him back to his proper place.
I hadn't watered the salves that night, so I fetched the waterer, ordered them all to kneel, and went down the line putting the tube in through their gags and allowing them all a nice long drink. When I got to two, however, I skipped over him and did the others. Then I went back to two, reached between the bars of the cage and slipped a leather thong around his neck, and hauled his head towards the bars so that his face was jammed right through them as far as it would go. I hauled the thong tight and knotted it securely, so two's head was wedged there. Slowly and casually, so that he and all the other slaves could see what I was doing, I got my dick out from my shorts and went over to the helpless two. As he saw what I was planning to do, two tried to escape, but of course his head was firmly secured and all he could do was kneel there. I pushed my dick forward and let it just go through the hole in the centre of his gag, and began to piss, very slowly. Two was making totally inarticulate noises as
my piss started to fill his mouth, and clearly was not swallowing it as he was breathing through his nose and holding his throat shut, and my piss was trickling out of the corners of his mouth. Had it not been for the ring gas, I'm sure he would have bitten my dick off! His whole attitude annoyed me, so I took a firm hold of his nose and squeezed his nostrils closed so that he could only now breathe through his mouth, a mouth full of piss that he'd have to swallow to clear the air way.
I carried on pissing and could see two's Adam's apple working away desperately as he alternately gulped down air and swallowed my piss, and tears were welling up in his eyes, which I could see as I looked down at him as he knelt there in front of me, now once again humbled. When I'd finished and squeezed my dick to expel the last drops of my piss into his mouth, I wiped my dick head along his upper lip so that the last remaining traces of my piss were left right under his nostrils (as I did this of course it tingled with the excitement as two's growth of beard from that day scratched at it, and I had to exert all my self control to prevent myself getting an erection). I tucked my dick away, and undid the thong holding two, who now just continued to kneel there. I walked away from them all, without even a backward glance.
It was good to be home again that night - I'd spent a lot of time at the depot recently. As it was raining, I'd called up and had my pony bring the trap down to the depot so I didn't have to walk to the street car line; so I put on my big poncho and hat again and went out to where he was waiting - shivering, as my slaves had been earlier - even though he'd managed largely to get shelter from the rain under an overhanging doorway. We might have waited an hour or so for the rain to stop, but I was anxious to get home though, as it had been a tiring day. In my hurry, I practised my newly-acquired carriage whipping skills on him: previously I'd only used a tawse on his back if he ran too slowly, and he was kind of used to this, and it was gratifying to see the additional spurt of speed he was capable of mustering each time the end of my carriage whip snaked out and caught his butt - you probably remember, Stu, that my trap pony has deliciously long legs and a real "bubble" but, as dad chose him more on the basis of speed, rather than endurance like the dray slaves have.
It was much the same as ever that night, though - I was bubbling over and wanted to tell dad all about how I was getting on, and the huge progress I was making in "taming" my slaves and turning them into a proper working dray team, and dad just wasn't interested! He'd made me do this fucking job, after all, and now he just cut me short so he could sit there and tell me what a dreadful day he'd had in his endless meetings, and bore me with another of his incessant lectures on the prudent financial management of large corporate ventures. I always think that he never pays me enough attention, and he doesn't so much want a son, as an heir to carry on the business.... And it's not the same thing. Steve.
Steve: Parents can be difficult, can't they? Your dad has always been nice enough to me, but then I've only seen him occasionally when I've been a guest at your house and I suppose our innate southern hospitality and politeness has made him pay attention to me as a guest (even if I was only there as one of your buddies!). But he must love you, Steve, or at least have some plan for your future which might be his way of expressing his love for you: why else would he want you to do all this dray stuff? And don't you think he's working away for you, behind the scenes? I mean, does every new drayman, even if he's not as young as you, get a kind of "personal advisor" like this Jon? How much time is Jon taking form his other duties to act as a kind of mentor and advisor to you - it sounds like a lot, from what you write, and he must have your fathers' permission for that, surely?
I know that in the past you've often said to me that you wish you were me, with my dad as yours as he's so kind and considerate. You don't know the half of it, Steve - he's like that to you, on the outside, as he sees you as a "sinner" and he thinks that if he spends time with you, gets to know you, and empathises with your problems, he might get a chance to "save" you for jesus! I know you well enough to know that it won't work, of course, but my dad will keep trying as he's happier when he's "saving" lost soul than he ever is when he's dealing with his own son. He never spends any time with me, just as your dad doesn't with you, as he's always too busy sorting out problems in the church, or problems for his flock, or, if he's finished with those, down on his knees praying. So don't think that I get it all good, and you get it all bad.
I still think your dad made a mistake, though. I can't believe all this "training" of those dray slaves is really doing you any good - look at how you told me you whipped your pony to make him get you home quicker, and how you were unconcerned that he was wet and cold - I seem to remember that just after you'd got him you'd hardly touch him with the tawse, and when we were both in the trap one day with our golf clubs and we got to the bottom of Piney Hills Road, you made me get out and walk as two guys plus two sets of clubs would be too much for the poor creature! I guess these days you'd just lash at his butt two or three times, wouldn't you? It's making you hard and uncaring for your fellows, Steve. Watch it! I do care about you, and don't want all this to go horribly wrong for you. Stu.
Stu: You've got it all wrong! It's not making me "hard" at all - it's just making me realise that for the last couple of years my pony had it fucking easy! He's perfectly capable of taking two of us plus two sets of clubs up Piney Hills Road, and all he needs is "encouragement" to see that. It doesn't do a slave any good to know that his owner is soft on him - slaves appreciate owners who are fair, but firm, Stu - Jon says so. Anyway, let's not argue about this, as when you come in a couple of weeks time you'll see that I'm still the same old Steve you always knew, and I really am looking forward to showing you the dray this time.
Anyway, the next morning I was there bright and early to feed and water the slaves, and get them ready for our first real day of work. I ordered them to jerk off as I didn't want them always erect as we went about our business, and I especially didn't want any of them who hadn't had sex for a few days starting to drip pre-cum or even spontaneously ejaculate. It was good to see that they now did this as if it was absolutely normal to kneel there in a row and jerk off with your buddies, and afterwards I emphasised to them that they were to really empty themselves in the shitter, as I'd certainly punish any slave who needed to disrupt the day's work once we'd left the depot. Once they'd showered and shaved I did my morning inspection, even more carefully than usual, and I dished out some of the sun oil and told the slaves to massage it well into the skins of their buddies - I wanted my slaves to look really great, with their skins glowing with a healthy sheen, and this would do it - but only if it's well massaged in, of course, as otherwise you get a horrible shiny greasy mess. And then we marched out to the dray shed, and I was distressed to see that I didn't look all shiny and new any more - I'd been so stupidly concerned for the slaves being cold and wet the previous evening that I'd let them go straight over to their cage and hadn't taken the time to get them to clean it off properly - so we had to waste time now, valuable time at the start of the working day, whilst they completely cleaned and polished it again.
The consequence of this was that the others had started to arrive, and so we were now fourth in line to be loaded up by the warehouse slaves. It's a skilled business, actually - ideally, of course, you'd load the packages in the reverse order from that which they were to be delivered in: as the drayman, I get a palm-PC with all today's deliveries and routes in it, downloaded from the warehouse systems. All I need to do is follow the route, taking the last package off the dray each time and delivering it as we make a smooth, least-effort route around the city. But practical considerations of loading the dray come into play - you can't put very small packages marked "fragile" in front of big, heavy ones in case there should be a sudden halt that would cause everything to slide forward and crush the fragile stuff, and so on. So loading the dray takes longer than you'd expect, and it was irritating to be back in the queue and to have to wait.
Once loaded we headed for the gate - the slaves were now finding it a lot harder than it had been yesterday, and as we got there I decided it was probably unnecessary to keep them muzzled, and I anyway needed to do something about tethering them. I realised I could further my plan to break two and so achieve multiple objectives, and I told them to rest for a moment, and went around and took the muzzles off all except two - I let the slaves see I was putting the muzzles in the box under my seat so they'd know I could always muzzle them again if they were troublesome, and I turned to them and said "I expect silence - no chattering amongst yourselves, no making remarks to passers-by. You are allowed a polite 'thank you, ma'am' if a customer says you've done a good job delivering a package, but that's as far as it goes. If you break the rules, I'll muzzle you again. And you'll see that I'm keeping two muzzled as I gave him the opportunity last night to be free of it, but he chose to wear it! As he clearly likes wearing a muzzle, I'll let him continue."
I saw all of them look at two, and they were thinking that his defiance of me last night had clearly backfired on him. And it got worse, as I went on "I've also decided that I won't be using the tether chain for you - but, again, I expect you to behave properly. You are not to leave your assigned places between the shafts without my express permission - for example, when I need you to carry heavy packages. And if you do, you'll spend the rest of the week tethered.
All except two, that is, who's rather unreliable: I don't want him spoiling things for the rest of you, and so I'm going to tether him anyway as he can't be trusted." So saying, I looped a shorter tether chain through two's collar, fastening then ends to the tether point, and then we were ready for the off.
They'd been embarrassed the day before at appearing naked on the streets, but they seemed to be less concerned about that today - perhaps they were getting used to the idea that my slaves were always going to work like that; or perhaps, and this is I suppose a little more likely, they were so focussed on the much harder job of pulling the loaded dray that they didn't have time to concern themselves about the prospect of someone seeing their dick bobbing up and down as they trotted along! They performed well, too - they were very responsive when I called out things like "next left" as I saw from the map on my palm-PC where we should go, and they maintained a good pace. We got to our first drop-off point, the goods inwards loading bay of a medium sized company, and I was proud of the skill they showed in backing the dray in so that I could supervise the slaves there to make sure they only took their company's packages off the dray. And then we were off to the next place, and so the morning passed relatively easily and without incident. When we had to make a delivery to a private home we tended to keep the dray on the street, and not back it into the driveway, and then I would take one or two of the slaves (depending on the weight of the package) to actually carry it for me, so I could focus on the customer and present the proper "face" of our company. I rotated this around, so that they all got a bit of variety away from the shafts, except for two, of course, who just had to stay there, tethered to the dray.
There are several well-known places in the city where our draymen and other delivery people from rival organisations tend to go at lunchtime (well-known to draymen, that is - I'd never heard of them before!) and as it got closer to one o'clock, I diverted from the planned route to go to one of them for my lunch. There were a couple of our drays already there, and I saw that it was the practice to allow the slaves to go and sit in the shade at the side of the parking lot, and so I told my slaves they could go over and join the others - all except two, of course, who just had to stand there, looking dejected and forlorn, muzzled and shackled to the dray. I don't eat a lot of lunch, but I chatted to the other draymen for a bit, and then went out to resume work. That fucking two had actually dared to sit down, and had perched himself on the central pole of the dray. He made no move to get back on his feet as I approached, and he needed to be taught a lesson he wouldn't forget - I hope you agree, Stu, and we're not going to have any more silly comments about "cruelty", but I couldn't allow this insolence, could I? Not only had he sat down, which is not allowed as he'd had clear instructions that morning to stay in place unless told otherwise, but he was completely disrespectful in not getting to his feet when his master approached! No slave master can allow a slave to get away with things like that, Stu, as it's not good for the slave - let him do little things like that, and soon you have a wild, unruly slave who doesn't obey properly and has to be sold, and probably sold at a lower price into some terrible new situation where his nature isn't so much of a problem, like down the mines. The considerate master corrects faults as soon as he detects them, therefore, and so without hesitation I took the carriage whip and started to beat two about the shoulders and back with it. I've told you it really stings when it hits the butt, but it's much, much worse on the shoulders and back as there's less muscle to cushion the shock. Had he been able to, two would have been howling with the pain, but as it was there was just this muffled kind of bellowing noise form him as my lows continued to fall.
I called the rest of the slaves back then and they looked pretty stunned by the whole thing, and I saw them looking at the vivid red marks all across two's back. Still, I had no more trouble for the rest of the day, and even when one delivery took an age as we had to unpack a new piece of equipment that was replacing a broken one so we could re-use the crate to return the broken piece to the manufacturer. When I got back to the kerbside the slaves were all still standing there in their assigned places, and had not dared to move! They were good guys, "learning by example", and I was even more pleased with having beaten two than I had been at the time: I now had a great deal of intellectual satisfaction with what I'd done, whereas at the time my pleasure had been purely in the physical joy of pounding the whip into male flesh. Steve.
Steve: No, I'm not going to go on at you about "cruelty". I guess you know more about "slave management" and what is, and what is not, considered "cruel", than I do. But I am a bit worried when you say, as you do at the end of your note "...my pleasure had been purely in the physical joy of pounding the whip into male flesh." Look at it, Steve! That isn't the Steve I know - well, I don't think it is. I'll be worried about doing any of those things we used to enjoy together - wrestling, swimming, fooling around.... You may decide that you'd get "physical joy" from pounding something into me. What's happened to the Steve who was considerate and gentle? Stu
Stu: He grew up, and entered the real world. Steve.
End Of Part Six.