Willing Slave

THE WILLING SLAVE, Part 7

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

(Author's note: Readers who are easily revolted by unnatural sex are warned against reading the last paragraphs of this chapter)

My fellow slaves almost didn't believe me when I told them what had happened to me that day, and I had to open my mouth and show them the gaps in my otherwise perfect teeth. Well, at least I'd avoided being lashed by the whip that day as I'd only had to run home from the tram stop, and I could easily do that at full speed and so I had a relatively comfortable night.

I didn't sleep much, though - look, I know that some masters do fuck their slaves, and do use them for all sorts of sexual pleasure. But it had never happened to me, and I never thought it would - after all, I was a premium slave, a fully trained pony. Why would a master fuck a man like me when he could buy any number of slaves who'd been trained to perform stunning sex, just as I'd been trained to pull a trap? You wouldn't expect a trained sex slave to be able to pull a pony trap, so why would you expect a trained pony to be good at sex?

Well, later in my career I got to see the error of this argument. Pulling a trap is a skill you learn, and you train your body for it. But sex is something that all men can do - it's natural and instinctive, and although you can improve with training, every man has the basics "pre-wired" in him. But I'm getting ahead of myself, and at that moment I was worried about sex, and about what else my owner and master Scott had in store for me.

I no longer bothered to put a T on as I knew that I'd be told to lose it as soon as my bit had been fitted as I seemed doomed to suffer the lashes from my owner's whip every day. Other than the intense stinging at the time I'd almost got used to it - and, as my fellow slaves pointed out, it was only really designed to "encourage" me, not to hurt me permanently. One of the gardeners had been to a public whipping of a slave and told me how at a serious whipping the skin is broken and so blood pours out and scars form. Mine was just a "gentle teasing" to "stimulate", was his opinion, and that if my owner really wanted to hurt me he could choose a much better whip than the small lash he was currently using. Well, that's all right, then, I thought! You know, in spite of my protestations that I was working as hard as I possibly could, some of my fellow slaves almost doubted it. Although none of them would say it, I got the impression that they kind of half thought that I must be slacking, else my owner would not even think of using a lash on me.

That morning after the new tough bit had been fitted, Master Scott told me to shuck my shorts. I stood there, nude, in front of the two men and for one dreadful moment thought that they were going to make me run totally naked! But my owner handed me something in leather - as I looked at it, I saw it was a kind of pouch, with two strings hanging from it, also in leather.

"This is your new uniform, boy", the owner said. "Thread the long string through the eye at the end of the shorter one, put your leg through the circle it forms, get your tackle nice and snug in the pouch and the short string bedded in your ass crack, then tie the loose end of the string around your waist and back to the pouch.

It had been bad enough standing there totally naked, but with this leather G-string on, I now felt that other thing - "nude". It was almost as if the black leather pouch and the string around my waist and up my ass crack actually emphasised my nakedness.

I was then told to get between the shafts, and now my owner had a new humiliation for me - I was manacled in to the shafts! Steel cuffs went around each wrist, and were fastened to loops that had been screwed to the shafts - once the catches had been clicked home I was there until they chose to release me. For a trained pony like me this was a real humiliation - didn't my master realise that all he had to do was to order me to stay in the shafts, and that's what I'd do? On the other hand, I suppose, it was all part of the "domination and control" thing they were in to, making me appear truly like their possession with absolutely no free will of my own. Almost nude, and manacled, we set off on a day of "calls". I now had two new difficulties to contend with - firstly, Master Jason and Master Scott now "displayed" me to all their friends again, and they all stood there and admired my almost naked body, and especially my ass. And secondly, Master Scott's whip (he almost always drove) now had a new area of my back to explore, and he focused on my big ass muscles as he "encouraged" me to keep up a very fast pace. All the handling and feeling of my body was made worse for me as I knew I was totally unable to move - I would not have done so, of course, but there's a world of difference between remaining still for an inspection because you have been trained to do so, and having to remain still because you are shackled to your trap.

That night in the bunk house all the others looked at my ass almost in disbelief - none of them had ever experienced anything like this, either in terms of being made to do their work almost naked, or by being "encouraged" - well, except for the handyman when he did the pool, and that was considered "normal" as most pool men stripped off totally for their work.

We went on like this for some days but I heard my owner and Master Scott several times discussing my body and how my costume could e further improved. I found out one morning when, after I'd spent a couple of hours standing idly by the front door, the two men appeared, later than usual.

My owner told unshackled me from the trap and told me to go back to the slave quarters, and I jogged back and stood by the door, waiting. The two men came through the house, then told me to get into the shower room, and strip. I stood there naked in front of them and Master Scott produced a pair of scissors which he "snipped" suggestively in the air. He told me to sit on a table that was against one wall, then came over and started to snip away at my pubic hair! As Master Jason watched, he pulled my dick up and sown and cut into my thick, wiry bush, trimming most of it away. Formerly it had stretched from thigh to thigh, but now all I was left with was a minute patch just above my dick, and this was dramatically reduced in length. He also trimmed all the long hairs off my balls, so that they were just covered in a kind of stubble. I hated the way he casually pulled at my dick and moved it from side to side as he worked, as if it was just a piece of meat, and not the essence of my manhood.

"Are you going to shave him, Scott?"

"No, Jase. I don't need to do that, as I said. We might do that if we have him totally naked, but if he's going to wear the mini-string, just taking off his bush like this so it doesn't all poke out around it will be enough. Now, let's see how he looks...."

From out of his pocket Master Scott produced a new G-string, but unlike the black leather one I had been wearing before this one was made of a white silk-like material. He motioned for me to put it on, and as I eased myself into the very whispy, tiny pouch I saw why they had trimmed me - it was so small, that it barely covered me at all. In spite of having most of my pubic hair trimmed away and the bar above my dick cut down to about half an inch, it still protruded above the thin material. And the pouch bulged suggestively at the sides, as there was barely enough material to cover my dick and balls at all. You could clearly see the shape of my dick through the thin material, and if any passers-by had wondered whether I had been 'skinned or not, they could now easily tell as the pouch really left almost nothing concealed.

"Excellent, Scott!", Master Jason exclaimed. "We're obeying the local ordinance about not having naked slaves in the streets of Pine Hills, but we're still able to display this magnificent animal to all our friends. "

"You're a lucky devil, Jase, to have something like this, you know. If my dad had bought me one, I'd have been fucking it long ago. Why don't we explore this one's ass a bit now...."

"I've told you, Scott, that I don't want him whilst I've got you. I want to make love to you, have you all night, as we do, not just take a quick stab up an ass, as I'd have to with this slave - you know dad won't allow the outdoor slaves in the house."

The two men grinned at each other, hugged, and kissed deeply. I watched in fascination as Master Scott ran his strong hands down the back of my owner as their clinch continued, then kind of cupped them under his ass to pull them even closer together. I'd never seen men behave like this before, and I wasn't certain that I liked it - if I'd ever thought about sex with another person at all, I'd kind of imagined myself doing those sorts of things to a woman, as I'd seen my brothers do (although as I've told you I'd never had the chance to try it, as none of the girls in our town would even consider kissing a boy destined to be a slave).

They broke up after a couple of minutes, and my owner commanded me to get back to the trap, where the two men joined me. I was shackled into the trap and my reins attached, then we set off. It was a day of utter humiliation. Somehow, having the outline of my dick and balls visible through the tiny G-string encouraged all their friends to take liberties with me - the attitude seemed to be that if my tackle was basically "on show", then it was OK to reach over and explore it with your hands. It was like being at the auction all over again, with men running their hands over my body, then cupping my pouched dick and balls and really feeling them. I hated it - not only because I didn't think it as right for men to be feeling me like this, but because I was acutely aware of the sensitivity of my balls and thought that at any moment I'd have a terrible pain of one of the men pressed too hard into me.

I was almost exhausted when we got back home that night as we'd really "done the rounds" of all Master Jason's friends and acquaintances that day, but when we pulled around the back the overseer, Tony, was there.

"Jason, your father has asked if you can lend Steve to me this evening - the slave who cuts the grass, Joe, has fallen a bit behind, and your dad's got guests to dinner tomorrow and wants the place looking immaculate."

"Sure, Tony. In fact, Scott and I were planning on staying home this evening, so we don't need Steve at all. But I we do want to go down to bar later, we'll take that pony of dad's - Jack isn't it - once my father's home from the office. Take this one away now."

My owner undid the shackles holding me to the trap, and Tony said "Does he have to wear that bit? When I've used him to cut the grass before he was your father's pony, and he wasn't fitted with one then."

"Oh, no - you can take it out. It's only for show, really, as I hardly ever use it to actually direct him. And whilst you're at it, you can let him cut the grass totally naked - I think his dick and so on are fading a bit from that all-over tan he had - it will be a good chance for him to catch up."

Well, he was right, I suppose - I now almost never had time to swim as the two men kept me running for such long periods, so I hadn't really been exposed all over to the sun. My ass was nicely tanned, of course, as the G-string left it totally exposed, but my dick and balls were fading a bit. But it was really humiliating to have to trot up and down the lawns, hauling the heavy mower, totally in the nude - as I strained away I could feel my dick swinging in front of me, and with the harness that was used with the mowers, I now just felt like a mule: they'd managed to convert me from a willing slave, proud of doing his job well for my owner, into something not much better than an animal, slaving away at an unpleasant task without even a shred of cloth to cover my loins and hide my nakedness.

After about an hour when Joe and I had each been pulling separate mowers, Tony told us that we needed to cut the broad swathes up to the house with the wide mower, and so Joe and I were harnessed together into the much heavier machine. As a gesture, Joe pulled off his T and worked away next to me just in his shorts - I knew he felt sorry for me, being made to wear absolutely nothing.

As we toiled up the slight incline towards the house, our feet starting to slide somewhat on the damp grass as the evening dew rose, and to my horror I saw some of the family sitting there sipping drinks on the broad stone terrace - the owner's wife, his daughter, and Master Jason and Master Scott. As is the way of rich slave owners, they affected not to notice us two slaves toiling away, the sweat streaming off us in the sultry air. But I saw the owner's daughter starting to smile a bit, then she leaned over and said something to her brother.

"Slaves - stop a minute". Master Jason had stood up, and called out.

"You, my pony, Steve - come up here a minute...."

I slipped out of the harness, and started to walk the remaining few paces up the slope towards them. I felt the heat of a deep blush start to spread over my shoulders and up my neck to my face, as I knew they were all looking at my totally naked body. Yes, I know I've got nothing to be ashamed off - at twenty three, after all my training and the constant exercise, I've got a body most men would die for. And, as I've told you, everything is perfectly in proportion - I'm not over muscled or anything, and it all looks right on my six foot two. From all the other slaves I'd seen at the Double J, I also knew there was nothing I should be ashamed of in the tackle department, either, as my dick was above average in length and thickness, and my balls hung down low and full behind it. I was a perfect specimen of manhood, so why was I embarrassed?

The owner's daughter was a couple of years younger than me - I'd taken her to High School occasionally in the trap when I'd first arrived at eighteen, and seen which class she was in. And since then I'd been around as she graduated, and went off to college. Her eyes were fixed on my dick as I stood there, my ribs rising and falling after my exertions. She leaned over towards her brother, and I heard her say to him "Well, Jason, I can see why you picked this one when dad gave you the choice.... He's much better hung than dad's pony Jack."

"How do you know that, sister mine?"

"Oh, you know... The usual.... But with your special tastes, Jason, I'm surprised you don't know that - I'd have thought that you and Scott would have been in the slave quarters every night, picking out a little entertainment..."

"Look, Linda-Anne, you have your pleasures, and Scott and I have ours. We don't need to go and take a slave to our bed..... "

I was listening to this in amazement! Has this woman really taken Jack off for sex? Well, I knew that slaves were used for this, of course, but not trained ponies like us. And Jack had never mentioned it.

"So, brother, if you aren't using this one, you won't mind if I do...."

"I certainly do mind! This slave's a stud, a real man. I don't want that dick of his learning bad habits, as I do intend to use him for sex at some point. So keep your hands off him - confine yourself to dad's pony, if you are so frustrated. Or get that beau of yours to move in with you..."

"You know I can't do that, Jason. Dad isn't nearly as tolerant with me as he is with you.... He'd completely freak out if I bought one of my men home, and there's no way I could move one in to my bedroom suite, as you have with Scott! I sometimes wonder if he knows what you and Scott get up to, or if he just imagines that you're still 'good friends' like you used to be at High School. I think you're lucky that your rooms are next to mine, not to his, as all that noise you two make certainly gives the game away."

"But", she continued, "If you're not going to let me borrow your slave, there's no point in him standing there making my juices run. Let him get back to work."

Master Jason waved his hand at me in a gesture of dismissal, and I trotted back down the lawn to join Joe again, acutely conscious that they'd be watching all the muscles in my back and ass moving as I did so.

I was flushed with embarrassment, and was terrified that all that talk of sex would make me go erect. And I was amazed at what I'd heard - Jack was actually having sex with a woman! I'd kind of understood that if you wanted sex it was OK with your fellow slaves (as happened with our two long-term lovers, as I've told you), but that sex with a free woman was almost inconceivable.

Joe and I sweated away for another two hours until the sun finally set, then we put the mowers away and trudged to the showers. As we stood there, soaping each other and washing ourselves, Joe was grinning.

"I think you're going to do all right there, Steve... That bitch has the hots for you - she never took her eyes off your dick."

"Oh, come on, Joe - it was horrible! Having to stand there naked in front of them all, and listen to talk about sex. A man's meant to be able to pick and choose who he exposes himself to, and who he takes to bed - and I've now been made to stand there and let them look at me, and you say she's going to come and demand that I fuck her...."

"Well, Steve, I wish it was me. I'd soon have my shorts off and waggle my dick around if I thought a good looking piece of pussy like that daughter wanted me to give her a good fucking. Man, you don't know how lucky you are - when he picked you as his pony, I thought Master Jason would be up your ass within five minutes. I think the only thing that's saved you is lover boy Scott - and even then I'm surprised that they haven't started on threesomes!"

"You're joking!"

"No I'm not - at my previous place, before I was bought by the owner here, the master regularly fucked all the slaves, and he liked us to perform erotic entertianments for him, too - circle jerks, daisy chain fucks... All that sort of stuff. You really got to know your fellow slaves well there, I tell you."

"But you don't fuck now - I've never seen you do anything other than jerk off, like we all do, in bed...."

"I never said I liked it. I just said that's what happened. I didn't have any choice, after all, as my owner ordered us slaves to do it. But here, so far, I've had a choice - and my choice is not to have to fuck other guys. But if a nice piece of cunt came my way... well, that's different....."

Look, I'd honestly never thought about any of this before. I've told you that I'd had no experience sexually, but that I believed I was inclined towards women, having watched my brothers. The guys who fucked in our dorm were all right - it was their choice - but I'd never honestly felt like joining in (even if they'd asked me, which they didn't). And the thought of having a guy's dick rammed into me forcibly, against my will, made me feel sick. To hear that all this kind of stuff went on around me was, frankly, surprising and a bit worrying.

As I jerked off that night my mind kept going back to this conversation - if all the other slaves around me had had sex, and some were still having it, what was going to happen to me? I thought about it all night, and got next to Jack the next morning as we were showering.

"You never told me you were fucking the owner's daughter, Jack..."

"No. It's none of our business, is it?"

"But you're a trained pony...."

"So? I'm a trained pony, sure, but I'm also a man. And when some good looking pussy is offered to me, I'm not going to turn it down, am I? And I don't have a choice, anyway, do I? If she tells the owner I've insulted her or something, even he would have me punished. And, as I think you're about to find out, it's not so much that I fuck her - she fucks me! She's very much in control, and I'm not like a real man taking my pleasure - I'm just like a warm, animated dildo that she uses to get herself off with."

I wanted to talk more, but the day's work called. Jack pulled on his T and shorts, and I watched enviously as I eased myself into the tiny G-string that was now all I was allowed. We trotted around the front together, the owner came out and sped off with Jack, and, as usual, I stood there, waiting. Unusually Master Jason and Master Scott came out soon after, and they went through the ritual of having me kneel so they could fit my bit, then the shackling of me to the trap, and we set out for the tram stop at high speed.

"Pick us up off the 16:30", Master Jason said as the two men alighted, "And until then go back home and report to Tony to help out with the grass cutting again."

They didn't wait for an acknowledgement or anything - it was just assumed that I'd obey - and went into the station to catch the tram.

It was actually pleasant to be able to jog home at my own pace, pulling the empty trap - if It hadn't been for the bit and the tiny satin pouch, it would almost have been like old times, those times when I was a happy slave, proud of using my abilities to serve my master properly.

I was expecting to have a good day cutting the grass with Joe, but when I saw Tony, he said "No, there's been a change of plan - your owner called and said that you're to be lent to his sister, miss Linda-Anne, for the day. She's got lot of running around to do and her brother's decided he'll be nice to her for once."

As we were standing there miss Linda-Anne appeared wearing a short white dress, and Tony smiled and greeted her.

"Shall I take the bit out of the pony, Miss? Your brother always uses it, but it's not necessary as he's fully voice trained as you know and will just take you anywhere you want. And if you'll give me a couple of minutes, I'll get him decently fitted out in the standard T and shorts..."

"No, Tony, there's no need for that. He's got to pick Master Jason up at he tram stop later, and Jason will expect him to be dressed normally as his pony. So let's not waste time - I'll take him as he is.

"Well let me at least unshackle him.... He can run better if he's got a bit more flexibility in moving his arms...."

"No. Leave him. He runs well enough like that for my brother, and it will be perfectly satisfactory for me.

And give me that whip Scott and Jason use - I think he's used to being 'encouraged' now, and I may be in a hurry later...."

Tony handed her up onto the bench of the trap, and she expertly slapped the reins against my naked ass and said "On, slave. Fast trot, to the mall."

I did as I was told, but, even so, as we went down the drive I felt the sting of the lash on my ass - it was a if she was asserting her control over me already.

We didn't stay long at the mall - it was almost as if she was taking this the trip as an excuse to use me as her pony, although one or two of her girl friends were around and they all came over and squealed their amazement at my physique as I stood there in my tiny pouch. But Miss Linda-Anne seemed to be in a real hurry, and we were soon off again.

I was surprised when she didn't direct me up the main drive as we neared the house, but instead went along the public highway then down a small dirt track that led into the bottom of the grounds via a double gate - this was the entrance that was used hen the garbage cart came, or when deliveries were being made from the garden suppliers or slave feed merchant.

I trotted along the private estate road and she told me to halt under one of the big spreading oaks that grew in that part of the garden. I stood there, breathing hard, and was conscious of beads of perspiration running down my body and soaking my tiny pouch - it was semitransparent to start with, but once it was soaking wet, it concealed very little.

She came and stood in front of me between the shafts, and before I could even think to be surprised, her long fingers were probing at my dick inside my tiny pouch! "Mmmmm.... nice....." She muttered under her breath.

I tried to get away, but here was nothing I could do - my hands were shackled to the trap, and I had only limited movement. Nevertheless I backed away as far as I could, but all she had to do was advance a pace or so.

"Let's get rid of this, shall we....", she murmured, and she untied the string holding the pouch on to me, and pulled away the string under my ass so that my dick sprang free. "Yes, very nice, as I saw yesterday.... So, Steve, aren't you pleased to see me?"

I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't give a coherent reply anyway, with the bit in my mouth. So I just mumbled something.

"Most men show their appreciation of a lady taking an interest in them by having an erection", she went on. "What's the matter? Have my brother and Scott got to you already, and taught you all that stuff about 'proper' man to man sex?"

I shook my head, and tried to mutter "No."

"So what's the problem then, slave boy? Don't you like a lady looking at you? Well, as you will find out, as I'm going to do a great deal more than look...."

She reached out and took my dick in her hand, which was incredibly smooth and soft. As I looked down I could see my big, tanned fat dick lying there in her slender white fingers with their bright scarlet finger nails. It was too much - I started to have an erection, and, as I did, she stroked me oh so gently.

"That's better, slave... My, you are a big boy, aren't you?" She said, teasingly.

It was no use - I was almost out of control. She continued to stroke my dick, and I got those incredible sensations you have when you're so erect that it hurts. I shook my head from side to side and made kind of protesting noises, and I did my best to move my body away from her, but it was no use - she continued to stroke and fondle me, and now had her other hand cupped around my balls. As she stroked me I got that different sensation that comes when you start to produce huge quantities of pre-cum - it went from being skin against skin, to having the delicious sliminess that only that most excellent lubricant can produce. To make matters worse, she was slipping my 'skin off and on to my dick head as she stroked away, and that always gives me so much pleasure it almost hurts.

I was on the point of shooting a huge load when abruptly she stopped. "No, Steve, I don't want to waste all that lovely sperm that you're going to shoot

by letting it fly into the air and go on the grass.... I've got a better use for it. You are vasectomised, like all the other slaves, aren't you?"

I nodded, and made kind of "yes" noises to the best of my ability.

"Well then..." She said, and slipped her dress off over her head. I was astonished to see that she was totally naked underneath, and I stood there gaping - well, I would have been gaping if my mouth was not already wedged open - as I saw her firm breasts and then her pubic area. Now you know I didn't go to school, except slave school, where they're not in to book learning. But my brothers, and some of the other slaves, used to have magazines and so on showing naked women. So the sight of breasts and a woman's pubes were not a total shock to me - but you know how it is: the reality is a bit different from pictures! And I was never expecting it to happen to me, anyway - as I've also told you, no girls in our town would even consider going with a boy destined for slavery.

"So, you like what you see, do you, slave boy?" I was too shocked, I think, to say anything, so she went on "It's a pity my brother had you shackled to that thing, as I like to feel a man's body wrapped around me as we fuck - but, actually, taking a big stud like you when he's completely powerless will be a novel new experience...."

She came right up to me, and started to rub her breasts sensuously up and down me - she was shorter than me, of course, and so she stood on the tips of her toes to thrust them into my pecs, then lowered herself so I felt her nipples run all the way down my body. I couldn't help myself - I moaned from deep inside me: it must be some sort of primitive instinct, I suppose. Then she came and wrapped her arms around me, and rubbed herself up and down over my erect dick - I felt her scratchy pubic hair against my exposed dick head, and almost shot my load there and then. I was moaning uncontrollably now, and arching my back as if to try to get my dick closer to her - again, it must be a male reflex, as I'd certainly never been taught this.

"Easy, slave boy.... My, you are excited, aren't you...." As she said this she wiped her long fingers across my forehead, then let them trickle lightly down over my face to caress my lips.

"What a pity we can't kiss, with that vile thing in your mouth. Still, even though you're shackled and helpless, it won't stop us having real fun...."

With this she literally climbed on to me - she put her arms around my neck, pulled herself upwards and rested he feet on the shafts of the trap. Then slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered her body so that my dick, slicked as it was with pre-cum, slid into her cunt!

I'd never felt anything like it in my whole life - the sensuous, moist warmth of it, and the way in which he muscles gripped me. She started to rock up and down gently, and in response to this my body thrust itself backwards and forwards. Her arms slipped down my back and she pulled her body close to mine, so that her pert breasts were forced into my hard muscle, and she raked her fingers up and down me in her passion and ecstasy.

It didn't take long- I was on the edge of cumming already before she started this fucking, and it took only a few thrusts in and out before I shot uncontrollably. I would have cried out with passion if I could have, and my own cries would have mirrored hers, I suppose - she was, I realised, making one hell of a noise, and I hopes that there weren't other slaves around to hear!

She slid herself off me, and stood there, again looking at me.

"That was your first time, wasn't it?"

I nodded, and tried to make "Yes" noises again.

"Good - I like it when I take a man's cherry! It's quite a reverse of the situation that used to prevail, you know, when big studs like you would have been roaming around trying to fuck every inexperienced girl they could. You're the tenth virgin I've introduced to sex.... Did you like it?"

I nodded vigorously again.

"Well, we shall have to see if we can't fit in a few more of these little excursions when my brother and Scott aren't using you - you've got a nice dick, thick and long, that really pleasures me, and I wouldn't want to waste it. Now you know what fun it is, we shall have to repeat the experience. Now, let me clean myself up a bit...."

She went to the trap and took some tissue out of her purse, and I saw her dabbing at herself with it. I marvelled at the difference in her body to mine as she flaunted it in front of me - the difference in her ass, as it's perfect pear shape bent as she moved, and, of course, her breasts as they swayed with her exertions. But I didn't have long to enjoy the view - she slipped her dress back over her head and smoothed it down, then came and picked up my G-string off the floor.

"I suppose I'd better put this back on you", she commented. "Although Jason had you mowing naked the other evening, I think it would be a bit suspicious if we went back to the house with you totally unclothed when you set out with it on!"

It's bad enough having to put your own G-string on, and on that first occasion when Master Scott had done it, I'd hated that, too. But having a beautiful woman fondling my dick and balls as she slid them into the tiny pouch and asked me if I was comfortable, was something else! If I hadn't shot such a huge load only moments before I'd have had another painful erection, and, as it was, I only went just a little way erect. I didn't much like having her thread the back string up my ass crack, as she pulled it too tight at first and I could feel it cutting into the tender flesh of my ass hole underneath. But as soon as I murmured in protest, and shuffled a bit, she saw the problem and loosened it.

You'd have thought, wouldn't you, that after fucking me and being so intimate in the way that only a man and a woman can be, that she'd have let me jog gently back to the house? But it was as if some maniacal fury overtook her, and she commanded me to run flat out, and flogged away at my naked ass unmercifully with the whip!

I arrived completely out of breath, and I think Tony was a bit surprised to see the state I was in as he thought that Miss Linda-Anne was "only s woman" and therefore a gentle driver.

There was no respite for me, however, as it as still only lunchtime, and so I had to spend the afternoon cutting grass with Joe. Tony did undo the bit for this, and as we worked away together Joe and I broke training and exchanged a few words with each other.

"So.... I see you ponies are both being specially favoured", he said mischievously.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Steve! I know Jack's been fucked by the mistress, and now you have, too! I think she must have a thing for ponies... I wonder if she'll extend her favours to those of us who pull the mowers, too? Will you put in a good word for me, or does she always want you gagged with that bit.... I suppose that cramps your style, doesn't it?"

"Joe.. How did you know? And yes, I hate the bit. I hate it all the time, every day. And it's especially hurtful when I want to lick, and kiss, and shout...."

"So it's true, then..."

"Yes. But how did you know?"

"Easy, Steve! In spite of her running you up into a complete sweat on the way back, you look like a man who's just had sex - all your body was flushed, your nostrils were flaring, and there was that smell of sex all over you: the scent of the woman steaming up from you. And, in any case, I was mowing down by the service gate earlier and had just stopped to pee, and I saw you!"

"You watched us?" I was almost incredulous, and not a little cross.

"Sure did. Best performance I've ever seen - her riding your dick like that. How did it feel to be completely subjugated, and used just as her plaything?"

I really didn't want to answer, as my glorious feeling of elation was ebbing away. I knew that I was a man, and a man needs to be in control of things. And when I lost my virginity, I wasn't.

End Of Part 7

THE WILLING SLAVE, Part 8

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Tony put my bit back in before I had to go and meet my owner and Master Scott from the tram stop later that afternoon, and I trotted there gently but was made to race back, as I expected.

Master Jason and Master Scott seemed to be in a very good mood, and were chatting away as we sped home, although I couldn't pick up on what they were saying. They stayed in that night and so I had an easy time of it, although my fellow slaves in the dorm were laughing at me a bit as Joe, rather unkindly, I thought, described how Miss Linda-Anne had fucked me and taken my virginity.

It seemed that my owner and Master Scott had some contract or other in the city, as for the next few days I ran them to the tram stop, then returned to help out at the house by pulling the mowers with Joe - or, at least, that was the idea. As soon as Miss Linda-Anne saw that I was around, she would come out and ask Tony if she could "borrow" the pony and trap for an hour or so in order that she could do "errands". As his employer's daughter, he never refused her, and so Tony would shout for me to leave the mowing and get back in to the trap. Joe always gave me a big wink as this happened, and made little gestures (concealed from Tony and Miss Linda-Anne, of course) to indicate that we would soon be fucking.

The first day this happened I heard Tony say "Well, miss, here he is, and he's not got his bit in - you won't be wanting that, will you, as it's only Master Jason and Master Scott who need that? And I don't need to manacle him to the shafts either, do I? - he's extremely docile and well behaved, and properly trained."

"No, Tony... I think you'd better put the bit in, and cuff him to the shafts.... It's the only kind way to treat him: if he has to be constrained like that when he's with my brother, he'd better get used to it, and it's doing him no favours to let him run 'free'. So harness him properly, please."

When I heard this my heart sank - I thought I'd be able to run as I was supposed to as we did her errands, and was so disappointed when he bit was strapped in and my wrists were cuffed leaving me as immobile as ever. But no sooner had we set off than I saw that the only "errand" she had in mind was to fuck me! We never even left the estate, and just pulled up under the shade of one of the huge oaks at the remote end.

"Ah, pony boy... You're a very good fuck, you know.....", she almost whispered to me as she slid from the seat and came and stood next to me. "I love having a man completely helpless and totally in my power as I fuck him."

As she was speaking her long fingers with her sharp nails was first caressing my dick and balls in their tiny silk pouch, then sliding down over my belly to take hold of them. The very feeling of being touched like this was enough to make me hard, and my dick almost burst out of its confinement. She groped at me for a few more moments, then almost tore my G-string off in her eagerness to explore me completely. My dick was rigidly at attention, and my breath, through my mouth wedged open with the bit was already starting to come in little gasps as my excitement mounted.

She came and faced me again then, and ran those hands all over my chest and belly, playfully tweaking my nipples and causing me to buck backwards and forwards to try to escape her sharp talons. But she didn't persist at any of this for long - she wanted to ride my dick with a terrible urgency, and she soon stripped off her clothes as she had the first time and "climbed" up me so that she could lower herself onto my erect cock.

Well, as I'd felt the first time, it was amazing - to have my dick gripped and pleasured like that by her experienced cunt. But at the same time I felt so dreadfully humiliated as I wasn't able to do anything at all about it - I just had to stand there whilst she pleasured herself, and all I was able to do was buck my body up and down a little in response to the waves of pleasure I was getting through my dick. It's not right, is it? A man ought to be in control, ought to be thrusting with his ass and thighs, and not just be standing there, helpless.

It was over remarkably quickly, and she seemed then to take an almost perverse pleasure in caressing my body as I stood there naked and helpless, and then in shoe-horning me back into the tiny pouch.

"You are so much better than that other pony, Jack", she told me. "Longer and thicker - and he always expects to be able to try to make it happen, rather than allowing me to take my pleasure. I think he forgets he' s a slave and only there to serve, and not to enjoy himself. Whereas you don't have any choice! Still, it's a pity you've got that bit in - I like some foreplay, and I've trained Jack to go down on me first: that tongue of his really does something for me.

I almost shuddered - was it the sweat evaporating from me that had cooled me, or was it the thought of having to probe my tongue into that moist hole of hers? I thought silently to myself that if I was able to control things, there was no way that anything like that would happen - I'd be thrusting away to give myself pleasure, and never mind what she wanted! It was so bloody humiliating to have this girl, who was two years younger than me, calling all the shots like this. I didn't really have long to speculate, though, as she soon got back into the driving seat, said "Trot home", and slapped my ass with the leather reins.

I had about ten days of being used like this, and I saw what was meant by being used as an animated dildo!

I asked Jack about it one night, as he was a bit pissed off because Miss Linda-Anne was no longer asking her father if she could borrow Jack for errands, and he'd had to revert to jerking himself off every night. "Well", he said, "I suppose I don't like it really - she won't let me get on top of her and fuck her, and I have to lie there whilst she rides up and down on my dick. Still, it's better than nothing.... Better than jerking myself off all the time."

"We ought to be grateful", he continued, "as I don't suppose that there will be any opportunities for fucking once she's married - you and I will be back to wanking, or, most probably, you'll be getting fucked by your owner. I've seen him admiring your ass!"

Joe joined in at that point, and said "Don't worry, Steve - Master Jason is at least pretty good looking, slim, and fit. Taking his dick won't be so bad, once you get used to it. Suppose you were sold to a big, old, fat guy who wanted to fuck you? That would e pretty gross, wouldn't it?"

"Look, Joe, I thought that after being trained as a pony that's all I'd do... They told me at my training ranch that owners would pay a premium price for me because of my training, and so they wouldn't want to fuck me...."

"How naive! Most owners fuck all their slaves, even if it's only once or twice - it's a way of establishing who's really in control. And I think they're all a bit bored with their wives, and like a bit of variety, anyway - most of the women would understand a master fucking his slave, after all, but would be pretty pissed off if they went for another woman, or a whore, or something. Those women know that owners need to be complete masters of their slaves, and fucking them is one way of exerting that control."

"Joe, you've been a slave a lot longer than me, and you've been in a lot of other places - were you always fucked, then?"

"Always. This is the first place I've been to where the owner didn't fuck me. Or let the overseer do it - Tony seems to take after the owner in that respect, and leaves us alone."

We carried on talking a bit, as guys do together, then went to sleep as usual. I slept well, probably because I was not so absolutely exhausted as I usually was, and was ready to face the new day as usual. To my astonishment, as I stood behind Jack at the front door, my owner and Master Scott came out first! Each of them had small canvas holdalls which they threw into the back of the trap, then climbed in themselves.

"Right, slave. We're off to my friend's place on the other side of the city. It's about eighteen miles, and we can't take the tram as we need you and the trap there - a number of us are getting together to compare our ponies, and we may arrange a few races and other activities to really test you." Master Jason's words cut through me - eighteen miles would be really pushing my limit at the best of times, but with two of them and their luggage to pull, I almost doubted that I could do it.

"We're not due there until lunch time, and we're having this early start, so there will be no need to go at a fast pace, but neither Master Scott nor I like to see a pony slacking and dawdling - so we expect to see you trotting briskly this morning, and I won't hesitate to 'encourage' you if necessary. Now, off you go..." He did "encourage" me at that point with a light slash of his whip across my ass, and I set off.

My training hadn't really prepared me for this - I'd done a lot of long runs at the Double J, of course, but that was a long time ago, and with a light trap. In the five years I'd been here almost all my work had been much shorter distances, and for long distance work you really do need to have endless practice. So it was with some trepidation that I set out, and I had no idea of the route, either, so there were no "landmarks" by which I could pace myself and divide up the journey - you know "Ah, so now we're half way... At that intersection we've done three fifths of the journey..." and so on: it makes a huge difference to your mental attitude if you can see that you are making progress like that, rather than just having your body haul itself over the endless miles.

But there was nothing for it - I just had to start out, then go at it: I suppose it's possible that I might collapse along the way, but what could I do? I was manacled into the trap, with absolutely no way out, and my owner and master Scott were impatient to be on their journey. They had total control of me and there was no way I could avoid the cut of the whip if I failed to perform to their satisfaction.

It really was hell. And I think that my owner realised it was no use expecting me to run very fast, or to keep "encouraging" me. I kept hearing Master Scott suggesting to him that he should use the whip, but he seemed to be saying that on this occasion we had to let the pony make the pace. He was even considerate when we came to a roadside faucet, and let me stop to drink - it was difficult with my bit in, and Master Jason even took it out so that I could refresh myself properly - although he fastened it again before we set off!

We went, I suppose, on a more or less straight line directly through the centre of the city, and I saw again the city centre traffic with which I'd been so familiar in those days when I'd been happily serving my former owner. It was midmorning as we went through the heart of the business district, and I was very conscious that all the other traffic was in "uniform" of Ts and shorts, and not mostly naked, in a tiny G-string, like me! When we had to stop at intersections for traffic signals, pedestrians would become aware of me and point me out to their companions. I hated it - I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of as I was in perfect physical condition, and my "costume" was not of my choosing, after all - a slave has absolutely no control over what his owner makes him wear, does he?

I know that in olden times men with great bodies like mine would enter into competitions where they wore almost as little as I did, and were proud to display themselves, and thrilled at the way that other men and women were envious of their muscular form. But in spite of telling myself all of this repetitively, I still felt that flush of embarrassment rising over me as they stood there and pointed at me. Perversely, I think Master Jason and Master Scott relished all the attention - it was as if they were saying "Look, we're so rich that we can afford a magnificent animal like this to pull us along. Aren't we splendid, and so much in advance of the fashion that we keep our slave near-naked for our amusement?"

Well, I'm not going to bore you with all the tedious detail of how difficult a slave finds it to actually carry out his owner's orders sometimes. Suffice it to say that, being the type of guy I am, I managed to find the reserves of strength - and, frankly, sheer courage and guts - to keep going until we arrived at our destination. Once there, though, I collapsed - literally - falling to the ground as my legs finally gave way, and l lay on the hard ground with them twitching feebly as my lungs strained away to make up my oxygen deficit.

Master Scott seemed really pissed off, as when I went down I pulled the shafts of the trap with me, of course, and that tipped the seat and almost threw them out. But my owner seemed very concerned, and called the slaves of his friend to come and "do something". They quickly unlocked me, and a couple of burly laves put their arms under mine, hoisted me to my feet, and half led, half carried, half dragged me around to the slave quarters.

I was expecting to go into some sort of dorm as we had at "home" - the odd visiting slave always bunked down in the spare bed with the rest of us. But instead the two slaves took me into a barn - a real barn, with straw on the floor and, down one side, a number of stalls containing real horses. One of these stalls was much larger than the others, and I was led in there. I stood, looking around, and a man appeared outside. I knew he must be a free man as he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Jeans, and he leaned on the low fence separating the stall from the passage way.

"I'm the overseer here. You can call me 'sir'. This little escapade the owner has arranged is a real pain in the butt for me, and you visiting ponies had better be careful - I don't want it to be any more trouble than it already is. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"It's good to see you're well trained! Anyway, as well as the owner's pony, and you, there will be two other visiting ponies. You'll live together in this stall for as long as you're here, as the owners have put together this mad idea of holding their own private equestrian event - a little racing, dressage, that kind of rubbish! As far as I'm concerned, it's completely foolish to get trained animals like you to do stuff that's not your normal work, but the owners pay the bills, and what they say goes. You've run all the way from the South, I understand, and you must be whacked! So rest here: the other visitors aren't due until later this afternoon, and if your owner and his guest want to go out again, I think they'll probably do so in the automobile we keep here - my boss just doesn't know how to spend his money, and we have one of those things as well as a couple of properly trained ponies."

"There's slave chow freely available in the hopper over there", he went on, indicating the back wall, "And that spigot over there is drinking water. You'd better decide amongst yourselves which corner you're going to crap and piss in - these stables are for real horses and they do it in the straw. We 'muck out' every day, so provided you keep it all in one place, it shouldn't be too unpleasant. I expect it will be a bit of a hardship having to sleep on this straw, rather than on those soft beds all you ponies are used to, but think of it as a little holiday - you've gone camping in the countryside, and you expect to 'rough it' a bit."

He must be joking, surely, I thought - anyone who had slept in the beds in our dorm would know that the one think they weren't was soft!

"Oh, and one other thing. Take off that ridiculous G-string. All the activities whilst you're here are going to be on the estate, so the public ordinances about slave nudity don't apply. All your owners have decided that, in keeping with the general pony theme, you're all going to be naked all the time - after all, who has ever seen a real pony wearing clothes: it would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

There was no point in arguing with him. Of course it would be ridiculous to see a real pony wearing clothes. But we were not ponies - we were pony slaves, men, not animals. And it wasn't ridiculous for us to be clothed - those scraps of cloth around your loins are what distinguishes men from animals. But I just smiled weakly, said "Sir, yes, sir", and, as he watched, undid the string holding my G and pulled it away from my body.

"Well, you're a fine looking specimen, I'll say that for you", the overseer went on. "I know all you pony slaves tend to be exceptional, but you've got a physique that's better than most I've seen. One of the visiting ponies is very tall and muscular, but he's a black, and I think that, overall, you've got the edge. Still, we'll see, when we have the grooming and display event! Now, get down and get some rest - I expect you need it - before the others arrive."

Although there are all these ideas about how much fun it is to roll around in straw, actually it's not very pleasant - the sharp ends stick into you. But I was so fucking tired after my run that I think I could have slept on one of those beds of nails you see conjurors using. I drifted off to sleep, and was woken by a resounding slap on my bare ass.

I came awake, and sat up, rubbing my eyes. There, facing me, were three more guys who I knew instantly must be slaves as, like me, they were naked. Each in his own way was so extraordinary, though, that I almost thought that I must still be asleep and dreaming. The most remarkable one stepped forward and said "Hi, I'm the resident pony here.".

I reached out for his arm to read his name in the time-honoured way that slaves do to greet each other, but he went on "Don't bother with my proper name - call me 'Spot' like everyone else does! You must be Steve - a good plain name, for a good plain pony, I guess."

The reason that I was so surprised to see the guy, and the origin of his nickname, was that his owner had turned him into a piebald! Huge patches of black were tattooed over him, and, just as in a piebald animal, they were quite large and irregularly shaped. He was otherwise really fair skinned naturally, I suppose, as his non-tattooed skin was tanned to that light milk-brown that fair people go, and some of his hair was a natural blond. But where one of the "patches" of dark ran across his head, part of his hair had been dyed dark, too, so that the line of the patch was unbroken. One particularly startling patch ran across his belly, and half his remaining small patch of pubic hair was dyed black, and half of his dick was tattooed to keep the line of the patch running! As he turned around, I saw that they'd contrived to arrange it so that one ass was mostly black and the other mostly tan, and a big patch on his neck also meant that the lower half of one side of his face had been tattooed.

He saw my look of astonishment, and said "To save you asking, because everyone does.... Yes, it did hurt. This much tattooing takes ages, and it really hurts - especially when they did my dick. And yes, it's a real effort all the time - every week I have to spend time colouring the roots of the dark hair as my natural colour grows through. But my master thinks having a piebald pony slave makes him something special, so here I am."

The second slave was the biggest black I'd ever seen - he had at least three inches on my six foot-something, and he was, shall we say, "in proportion" - a huge long dick did nothing to conceal very low hanging balls swinging between his massive thighs. He grinned and said "Don't bother to look at my name, either - they call me 'Nigger' as I'm so black. I'm a pure bred salve from Chad - my parents got an immigration visa just before I was born, and they never thought to check whether that meant their new son would have to go into the Lottery! I'm this very dark black because there's no white men anywhere in my ancestry - most of your American blacks have at least one white who's fucked a black woman somewhere in their lineage. And, before you ask, my owner keeps me specially prepared, just as Spot's does - I'd have about as much hair as you have, if I wasn't kept totally shaved: my owner won't allow even a trace of hair on me anywhere as he wants all my musculature to really stand out, and I have to 'polish' myself with slave oil all the time, too, so that I glint in the sunshine."

"Hi...", I said, rather in awe of him, and shook his outstretched hand.

I hadn't had a really good look at the third slave ,as he'd been standing a bit behind the other two, but he stepped forward and took my arm to read my name, and I did the same to him.

"Well, I don't have a nickname", he said. "I'm just plain Ted. Hi, Steve... I see your owner likes to have his pony 'au naturel'!"

He was looking at my naked body as he said this, and I saw at once the point of his remark as poor Ted was almost disfigured with the rings he wore. Both of his nipples sported large diameter, heavy gold rings that would have dragged his tits right down if his pecs had not been so well developed. A third ring protruded from his nostrils - I guessed it must go through his septum - and hung down so that it almost covered his top lip. But most remarkable was the thick ring around his dick and his balls - it must have been at least an inch and a half thick and was cinched very tight around him at the root - it had the effect of lifting his whole tackle kind of "up and out", so that his dick was thrust well out in front of him even though he didn't seem to be erect.

Seeing me staring at him, he went on "It's a bit strange at first like this, but you get used to it after a time - believe me, you'll wish you were cinched like me after we've been running totally naked for a bit - it's OK when you're in shorts and you have a it of support, but when you have to run totally unsupported, this ring is a real help. After you've got used to the different balance, it makes it a lot less sore for you as your balls don't damage themselves by slapping in to your thighs all the time."

"But does your owner make you run naked a lot, Ted?"

"Yes. Our spread is so far out of the city that we don't get tram service, and when my owner needs to go there he has to use an automobile - he's always griping about the cost! So I'm used almost exclusively on the farm, pulling him around as he inspects the field slaves, and he says there's no point in spending money on even shorts or me, therefore. All the outside slaves on our spread are naked, actually - and on those rare occasions when he takes me to the city to pull him around, it feels very strange to wear a T and shorts - they kind of itch, when they're not used to them."

"You mean your owner takes you to the city - I thought you said he went by automobile.", Spot cut in.

"Yes, he does. And I go in the trunk, and when we park in a parking garage in the centre he lets me out and he hires a trap for me to pull."

We all listened with astonishment to this - I'd only been in an automobile three or four times in my whole life, and here was a slave talking about going in one regularly. I could see that the other guys were impressed, too.

Conversation was cut off at this point, though, as the overseer appeared. "Right, you ponies. Your owners have decided to bring forward one of the events they'd planned for tomorrow. They're about to eat dinner, and after that they need entertaining. So get yourselves into the showers and clean yourselves up - you are going to be on show in the main house, and I know you'll all want to be a credit to your owners."

Although we were living in the stables, our areas wasn't locked or anything, of course - we were all slaves and knew that there was no escape. The proper horses in the other stalls had to be kept locked in to prevent them running off, but we were not going to do anything like that. So we all walked together to the open area at the end, and used one of the hoses that was there as a makeshift shower to really scrub ourselves clean. We had to shave each other as there was no mirror or anything, and I was glad that Ted seemed to be happy to help Nigger - I didn't think I could have done what he did, running the razor all over Nigger's huge body to make sure it was completely smooth, moving his dick to one side to get at his balls, and finally even shaving down Nigger's ass crack as the giant black bent over and gripped his ankles.

Nigger had some of the slave oil and rubbed it himself all over his magnificent body, but Ted had to help him to reach the small of his back. "Be careful with that, man", Nigger told him sharply, "And don't waste it. My owner says it costs a lot, as it's a special formula to shine the skin without clogging he pores - when I'm running and start to sweat, it can still come out. My owner says it enhances me, actually, as the sweat 'beads' on top of the oil and adds to the sparkle."

"You're a vain fucker!", Ted replied. "Worrying about the shine on your skin. At least I don't have to bother with these rings - they're solid gold, my owner says. Well, at least they don't tarnish, or anything.

But I think I'm going to put a drop on my dick, to make it look a bit special."

"Do you want some, Steve?", he continued. "It's in my hand here, and I can easily rub it on your dick, too."

I started in amazement as I'd been thinking about something else. I had to think of a reply very quickly, as I didn't want those other guys to think I was a prude or anything, but, equally, I didn't want Ted touching my dick - for one thing, if he rubbed that oil in, I'd get an erection. "No, thanks, Ted. But my owner likes me natural, as one of you said earlier. I'd better not risk putting any of that on me as he might get angry."

"What event do you think they're going to do tonight, anyway", Spot now asked. "I had all my hair re-tinted yesterday, and I heard my owner saying something about racing, and dressage. But I don't see we can do that in the house. Well, we'll find out soon enough, I suppose. Not that it matters - there's not much we can do about it, anyway, is there?"

"What's it like in the house, Spot?", I asked.

"Dunno, Steve. I've never been in there before - the owner keeps a pretty rigorous distinction between inside and outside slaves, and I live out in the outdoor slave quarters."

I was about to tell him that that as the same system my owner used, too, when our conversation was cut short by the arrival of the overseer again.

"Right, are you guys all ready?", he asked.

"Sir, yes, sir", we chorused. It was good to see that all the others were well trained, like me - if we were going to work together, it's always good to work with guys you can trust, isn't it?

He led us out of the stables and across the yard. Somehow, being with the three other naked guys made me feel better - I hated being exposed when I was the only naked slave around, but with the others it made it seem better. And, anyway, at least I wasn't almost "freakish" as they were, especially Spot!

We went in through the rear door of the vast mansion, went along a couple of what were evidently service corridors, then up what were clearly the "back stairs", or perhaps a fire escape. Opening door on the second floor, the overseer ushered us out into a luxuriously carpeted hall way, furnished with occasional tables with big lamps on them. It felt so strange - for one thing, although I'm immensely fit, my legs were aching from climbing the stairs: for the last seven years, I realised, I'd never been up a staircase: I had to climb a couple of steps here and there, but I lived and worked all on one level, and stairs just didn't figure in my existence. Although I could do it absolutely without thinking about it - I suppose it's one of those things your body's reflexes learn and never forget - it had left me feeling that I'd used muscles I didn't usually use. And then there was the general atmosphere - my feet were standing in luxurious carpet, and I couldn't stop my toes wriggling sensuously in it: I hadn't experienced comfort like that since I left my family home; and the air conditioning actually felt cold as the air wafted gently over my naked body - I don't suppose I'd been cooled like this in all that time, either.

"You slaves wait here, in a line, and keep absolutely quiet and still", the overseer said. "In fact, line up, backs to the wall, and clasp your hands behind your necks. Although you don't use it, that's the 'display' position that domestic slaves are taught to adopt when they're otherwise idle."

We all stood there, almost afraid to move, and waited, and waited. Occasionally "domestic" slaves, in their neat Ts and shorts, would go past, but they never spoke to us, or even cast us anything more than a quick glance - I guessed that they, too, were well trained, and were probably extremely busy with their owner entertaining. Some of them were wheeling covered trolleys, and as they went past the most amazingly appetising smells reached us - I hadn't had anything other than slave chow for so long that I'd almost forgotten what "real food" tasted like, but these savoury smells brought it all back and my mouth filled uncontrollably with spit as I salivated heavily.

We stood there for what seemed like an age - although I'd got used to standing still for long periods as my owner and Master Scott never seemed to work to time, this was a bit different - for one thing, when you're in a trap and standing still you can shuffle a bit and flex your knees slightly, and so on. But when your back and ass is pressed hard up against a corridor wall and there's always the possibility of people coming past, that relief is denied you. It felt so strange standing there with three other totally naked guys in surroundings that were almost "normal" - carpets, nice lamps, soft furnishings.... I'd almost got used to being partially nude when I was outside, and to being totally naked in the slave quarters, but standing here, in a "normal" corridor, really brought home to me how different my life really now was.

The overseer did come back eventually, though, and ushered us in through big double doors into a huge formal dining room, where the remains of a lavish meal - and lots of bottles - were still spread on the enormous table. Scattered around it were five men - my owner and Master Scott, and three others - I assumed that these men were the owners of Spot, Nigger, and Ted.

They all seemed to be slightly drunk, and were arguing about something in that very kind of boisterous way that guys do when they're a little worse for wear.

"Look", one of them said very loudly, "I say we should accumulate the marks these ponies get throughout the week, to get an overall 'best'. And if we're doing that, some of the tests are objective: who gets to the finishing line first. But some of them are very subjective, like all the stuff we're doing tonight. It's not fair if Scott judges in this part, too, as then there will be two of us who are familiar with the one pony, and may mark him higher. As he doesn't have a pony of his own to enter, I vote that Scott doesn't take part in the judging here tonight."

"No!", Master Jason cut in. "We all know Scott and think he's a good bloke. I can't believe he'd favour my pony just because he's more used to him than he is to the others. So I think we should let him play a full part - if he's not allowed to judge them for their bodies, he'll miss out on a lot of the fun."

They all carried on arguing, whilst I stood here and shivered inside at the thought of what might be going to happen to me - what was all this about judging our bodies?

The men all totally ignored us as they continued to argue, but at last it seemed to be settled - Master Scott was not going to be allowed to judge for himself, but he could take a full part in it as an "advisor" to Master Jason.

"Get one of your servants back in here and tell them to fetch a flip-chart stand and some paper", one of the men called out, and the guy who I guessed must be the host picked up a phone and snapped some orders into it. The doors opened a few minutes later and two servants came in with one of those easel things, a big roll of paper, and some marker pens. I cold tell that they must be slaves, as they were almost naked - they wore tiny G-strings, rather like the one I was nor used to except they were a little larger and properly opaque (or perhaps their dicks and balls were not as large as mine!), and around their necks they had black silk bands that held black bow ties at the front - they were in the ultimately minimalist waiters' uniform, I suppose.

The host drew columns on the paper headed Nigger, Spot, Ted and Steve, neatly underlined them, then wrote as the name of the first row "Body".

"OK, guys", he told his companions, having banged the table to get silence. "So this is the first competition. In the next twenty minutes examine all the ponies and award your marks out of 20 for general body condition. We'll then add up the scores, and the pony with the highest overall marks will be the winner and will get four points, down to the one with the lowest overall marks who will get one point. We'll use this "positional" marking all the way through, and at the end of all the competitions the pony with the highest aggregate mark will be declared the best. Does everyone understand?"

Ass you'd expect with a set of strong-willed masters who were all slightly drunk, there was a lot of shouting and arguing about the way the scoring should be done - "how many marks shall I set aside in the twenty for muscle tone?" one of them asked as the sort of thing that was going on. "If I award a maximum of five and someone else uses a base of ten, it won't work."

"Yes it will", was the shouted reply, "Provided you use the same base of five for each pony. You'll use more of your twenty for some other characteristic of more importance to you. So it will be consistent."

And so it went on, until the host finally said "Cut the crap, guys... I'm eager to get started...."

They told each of us to go to one corner of the room, and there we were visited by each owner in turn. They all did it slightly differently, but effectively they did a complete "owner's inspection of me" - hands ran all over my naked body, feeling my musculature and general tone. They probed my ass muscles and my thigh muscles with their fingers to gauge the power of my primary pulling muscles. Hands were pressed into my ribs and around my waist to make sure there wasn't even the slightest trace of a layer of fat forming, and to get a feeling for the capacity of my lungs. And then it got more intimate - they cupped my balls and "weighted" them in the palms of their hands to get an impression of their weight and size, before moving on to my dick. It seemed that apart from Master Jason and Master Scott the other owners were not used to examining a slave who still had a 'skin, and there was a lot of laughter as they slid it backwards and forwards to reveal my dick head - I couldn't help starting to get an erection as this was going on, and they liked that - although I hated it, and a flush of embarrassment swept up from my chest to cover my face.

Most of them stopped there, but one owner told me to kneel so that he could open my mouth and feel around inside. "Nice white teeth, boy. I see Jason's had you modified a little to take the bit better, though. Are you properly voice trained?"

He pulled his finger out of my mouth - I was glad, as I could taste the food he'd been eating on it, and it was almost making me drool.

"Sir, yes, sir. I'm fully voice trained, sir. But Master Jason uses the bit every day to show that he is totally in control, sir."

The man just smiled at this, then said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world "One final test - bend over and pull your ass cheeks apart - I need to inspect your hole."

I though I must have misheard him, but realised that he was serious. What was I to do? If I disobeyed him I'd lose points, and make Master Jason look foolish. But if I did as he'd instructed, I'd be utterly humiliated. I stood there, wavering, but he snapped again "Didn't you hear me, boy?"

That was it - with my heart pounding at the thought of what was about to happen to me I bent over at the waist and reached behind me to pull my cheeks apart. I stood there waiting for the inevitable, and then it happened - I felt the tip of his finger scrape down my ass crack and rest lightly on my pucker. I shuffled uncomfortably, and in return the man increased the pressure on me. I could feel his finger almost probing at my hole, and I hated it - but at the same time something inside me told me that this was a new, strange sensation that wasn't wholly unpleasant.

The man stopped his pressure, and I heard him spit, then a moment later his finger was back. This time the pressure increased and increased until a shiver of complete pleasure ran through me - his finger had penetrated my sphincter, and I could feel it inside me. His other hand was now resting on my backbone, at the base of my spine, and he pressed down slightly on that as if to control me, as his finger gently wormed its way in. Something very odd was happening to me - I was getting feelings of the most acutely intense pleasure as he continued - feelings the like of which I'd never experienced before and which I find it difficult to describe accurately. My dick seemed to know it, too, as without any conscious control on my part it went completely erect.

The wave of pleasure intensified as his finger was pulled out, and the man told me I could stand up. I was flushing bright red, and my dick was stuck out rigidly in front of me. The man was cleaning his finger on a silk handkerchief, and he looked at me and grinned.

"You're a virgin, aren't you? Master Jason has never used your ass, has he?"

"Sir, yes, Sir. I mean Sir, no, Sir... I mean..... "

"Take your time, Steve, boy."

"Sir, Master Jason has never been up my ass, and neither has anyone else, Sir."

"How interesting! But I think you found my initial exploration quite enjoyable, didn't you...?"

"Sir, I don't know, Sir. Sir, I..... I..... I really don't know, Sir."

"Well, I think your owner certainly does have a prize in you - a really good body, and a virgin, too. And one who looks as if he'll really take to fucking, once he's been broken in! I might even make him an offer for you."

With that he walked away, and I was left standing there, very confused.

End Of Part 8