You Can't Be Friends With a Slave

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part twenty three

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

MEETINGS WITH MASTER RAFE

Maybe Master Rafe had other motives in making me go through the slave training with the young lads. He said he'd wanted me to learn what they were taught, but perhaps he was wise enough to see that my experience of slavery with Billy-Joe had been atypical.

Shorn of all my hair and shaved smooth all over so that I looked almost a schoolboy again (except for my bulk), and made to spend all my time with the sixteen to eighteen year old trainee slaves, I couldn't help but mentally revert to an earlier age. Then the lessons of slavery seeped in insidiously to me - I didn't need the exercise, of course, that caused some of my fellow trainees so much trouble; but the lessons in slave deportment, slave speech, and so on, began to show me how delinquent Billy-Joe had been in just insisting that I obey only some of "the rules" by which society wisely governs slave behaviour.

I already knew a lot of the sexual stuff, of course - on the second day we were paired and they had us jerking each other off, to help break down any remaining barriers of sexual prudery. And I already knew about sucking cock, or so I thought. On the day they brought in four women and had us spend hours pleasuring them with our fingers and tongues, and then fucking them, I had good start on the rest - most of them had never even seen a woman naked before - and, indeed, I was used as the "demonstration" and had to be the first to fuck whilst my classmates all watched.

The next day it was the same - four guys from the local brothel had been hired to take dick up their asses all day, and, for me, that was fun! But some of my fellows still seemed to think that enjoying the body of another guy was in some way wrong (when I stopped to think about his I realised how much I'd changed during my time as a slave - that would have been my reaction at one time, too).

Because of the importance Master Rafe attached to anal virginity for his graduates, we were of course not allowed to fuck each other, and I was really glad that on the first night with young Chas I'd shown some restraint: two of the lads were found to have fucked each other, and they were "expelled" - sent back to the dealers who had sent them for training. Richie had the rest of us lined up and lectured us gravely on what would happen to them - they would have no hope of finding caring masters who would cherish them and treat them properly, and the dealers would probably have to sell them off to brothels, or just as common field or factory slaves.

Look, I've told you that I'm not at all turned on by young lads, but somehow each night I found myself unable to stop having some sort of sexual experience with the one I was locked in the pallet with. At their age they were at their peak of their sexual ability, of course, and so were naturally horny. And so I suppose it was only natural for me to respond, and suck them, or let them suck me, or jerk them, or for me to fuck their thighs, or whatever - or perhaps it was that I was reverting to an earlier me, a me that had never appreciated just how much fun it could be to do these innocent things with a buddy.

For the first time since I was enslaved I somehow felt totally relaxed, totally secure - all the stuff that Billy-Joe had spouted about how lucky slaves were not to have to worry about things had previously struck me as a load of bullshit. But now I could see it was true: the young lads here had no more worries about exams or SATS at school, didn't have to worry about trying to make out with girls, or of making cash at their Saturday jobs, or anything. Like me, they were free to exercise, to get fit, and to enjoy their sexuality at will. We were well fed, and not stressed, and even the punishment was relatively mild:

the tawse or discipliner set on low; but then only if we misbehaved, or failed to meet the standards that our instructors set for performance of their lessons.

I revelled I being able to work out properly, and always wanted to exceed the quota of exercises set for me - numbers that were anyway always higher than that for the rest of the class. And the lessons continued to be interesting: one day, for example, an Englishman appeared dressed very traditionally in a Harris tweed sports coat and brown cavalry twill slacks, a silk cravat at the neck of his Viyella country shirt. We sat there in the classroom expectantly, wondering what this aristocratic looking man could be here to lecture us about - I suppose we were expecting something like proper manners at the afternoon tea table! But it turned out that he was an expert in the art of cock sucking, a kind of peripatetic teacher who came around to the various slave training establishments to ensure that we were all as skilled as possible.

He talked to us first about the importance of variety - the need to pay attention to the shaft and the head, the use of the tongue in the piss slit, the different things you could do with an uncircumcised master, and the way in which that little piece of skin just under the piss slit is the most sensitive part. It had not occurred to me before, until he told us, that when you're kneeling with your back upright servicing your master's dick you ought to look up at him appreciatively as many masters like to look into the slave's eyes as they service him; but if you're rocking backwards, your heels pressed into your butt and your master is really fucking your mouth, then it is more polite to have your eyes downcast in the usual slave manner. To our amazement he then took of his sports coat, dropped his pants, and then demanded one of us to go up and show him what we'd learned! He had a large, uncut dick and the first lad to try gagged and spluttered as he tried to get the monster right down his throat. It was tough for me, too, when it was my turn, but the Englishman seemed to like my attentions as he said I had a "pass" at the end of it.

Mind you, it did feel odd kneeling there working away at this man's dick with the tails of his cotton shirt brushing my neck, and his pants bagged around his ankles as he stood in front of me - I was used to the guys whose dick I was working on being naked, as I was. Still, I suppose that was part of the training - a master doesn't always have time to take his clothes off if he is in need of stimulation and relief, does he?

All the time I was going through this training I really was treated just like one of the others - I was given the tawse if the guards and trainers did not think I was working as hard as I could, and I was used casually for their pleasure, especially after the cock sucking lessons! I got to really know Richie's dick intimately, and as I knelt there, sucking him to climax, he'd run his hand over my shaved head and almost croon at me "Just wait, Stevie boy, until you're finished training... Then I can take your ass!"

Little did he know, I thought to myself - sucking his dick when I was a trainee was one thing, but no way was he going to fuck me: my ass was not going to be used like that, especially not by Richie. He was a nice enough guy, and, indeed, there was that feeling of true friendship between us already, but even so, that didn't mean that he could fuck me; on the other hand, I'd seen enough of his body to know that he'd be very satisfactory in bed, and I felt certain that his strong thighs and firm butt must conceal a pucker just right for my pleasure. Once again, as this thought came to me, I realised how I was changing: at one time I'd never even have looked at another man's body with a view to considering how good it would be to fuck!

As I've told you, Master Rafe was a very "hands on" owner of his establishment, and was always prowling around looking at progress and monitoring what was happening. He had a magnificent chestnut stallion that had its own special slave to groom it - I suppose that was one of his few extravagances, having heard from the others about his otherwise relatively aesthetic lifestyle. I'd been in the training programme about three weeks, and had already seen the progress my fellow trainee slaves were making as the fat dropped away and their muscles thickened and strengthened under the exercise regime and healthy diet. I'd got used to the totally shaved look, too, and in some ways it was good - it felt really sensual to have another totally shaved body squirming against you at night as you lay together in the tiny pallet. And the young guy I'd seen on the first day (the one who'd first been naked as he had worn no underwear) and I had become special favourites - if we could, we always tried to get locked in together: although the guards were on the look out for this as they wanted us to all experience each other in their efforts to rid us of body shyness. He was most inventive: he hadn't needed the cock sucking lessons at all, and I marvelled at the ways he managed to pleasure me as our sweaty bodies grappled with each other at night. That morning, though, I realised that my fun with these trainees was over, as Master Rafe pulled his horse up next to me.

As I'd been taught to, I dropped to my knees, back straight, and head bent. "Stand up, Steve", he commanded, and I scrambled to my feet and assumed the "rest" position, head still bowed.

"Look at me!". I turned my head upwards, and saw him smiling down at me. "Right, Steve, enough of this little holiday interlude for you. It's time you started to work properly, so get over to the workshops - Richie's there, and I've told him to take out those ridiculous rings you have. I can't do anything about the tattoos - small ones you can burn out with lasers, but the sheer volume of ink your previous owner had them use makes that impracticable. You can start to grow your hair again - I like to see a hairy guy, so there's no need to shave your chest or legs or anything. But shaved balls and ass, a neatly trimmed bush and short pits, of course, and I like the cropped look for the heads of my slaves so that should be kept short. Understand?"

"Yes, master." Hey, things were looking up - I was going to start looking like a proper man again.

"And this afternoon I want you to spend all the time with the slave who supervises the exercising of the trainees - that's going to be your job from next week:

you've got the right body for it, and I think you like working out, don't you? I may as well capitalise on the skills and abilities you already have. As you're on the staff here now, so to speak, no more nakedness either - standard slave shorts, and a singlet if you want, to cover up most of those tattoos. I'll break you in myself in a couple of weeks, when you've got some of your hair back - as I said when you first came here, it will be good to have a bit of white meat to relax with , rather than these endless black slaves. Now, cut along, and prepare for this afternoon."

"Thank you, master", I said as I jogged off. But what did he mean about "breaking me in"? Still, it wasn't going to be for a couple of weeks, and in the meantime I was going to get rid of these rings.

The establishment had a little workshop for repairs to the various vehicles and instruments used in training, and Richie was waiting for me there. He wanted to start with my tit rings, and at first he thought it would be easy - but they were big, heavy ones in stainless steel, and not at all amenable to being just cut through with a metal shears. So I had to kneel down and have the ring clamped in a vice, and then Richie took a long, rat-tailed file and started ever so gently to file away at the ring to cut through it. All this fiddling around with my nips of course make me have an erection, and Richie grinned as he saw my dick reaching for the sky. The work went on and on, and even though he was very careful, the now hot file would occasionally touch my actual skin and then I'd want to jump with the shock - but with my ring gripped in the vice that was even more painful! By the time he'd finished the first ring I was dripping pre-cum, and we agreed to stop for a few minutes so that I could jerk off - well, actually, Richie played with me for a bit and actually did the business, as he said he'd always liked the look of my dick.

Once both tit rings were out, it was the turn of the one in my nose, and once again Richie gripped it firmly in the vice. I had to bend right over to get down to the level of the bench, and I wondered why Richie took the tightening handle out of the vice as soon as the ring was held solidly there.

I felt Richie's hands running over my butt, and he murmured "Hey, Steve, now you're one of us guard slaves, it's fun time.... I wasn't allowed to fuck you when you were a trainee, as I had to treat you just like the others, but your butt's been driving me wild.

How about a quick fuck now, whilst you're in position like this...." As he was saying this, I could feel Richie's finger start to pry my big butt muscles apart, and then the tip of his finger ran down my crack and touched my hole.

I squirmed, and tried to prevent more action, but my nose ring was keeping me firmly in place, bent over. "No, Richie... I don't take dick in the ass.... I'll jerk you off, or blow you if you like, but no fucking of my ass, OK?"

"Well, Steve, that's interesting... I'd heard from one of the slaves at the Colonel's who was talking to a guard from here when they were both at the doctor's office that you had this thing about not getting fucked... And it just makes you more desirable! Taking a guy up the ass is always good, but taking him when he doesn't want it is even better... So much more exciting...."

As he spoke, I felt that presence, that special sensation, that you only get from the warm, moist tip of a rock-hard dick as Richie played it up and down my crack, lingering on my pucker and kind of stirring it around so that shivers of sensation went through me.

"NO, Richie... Don't...." But as he continued, I cried out " Look, fucker, if you don't stop that immediately there'll be problems when you let me go - you can't keep me in this fucking vice all day...."

"Oh Steve... You terrify me... What are you going to do, when I've fucked you? Beat me up? Turn me into a pulp, with those big strong fists of yours? Master Rafe would never allow that, you know. So just stand there like a good boy, and let your mate Richie show you what real sex is all about..."

I started to thrash around as best I could - you try it, with your nose effectively held immobile - but Richie was thrusting at me. I could feel the heat of his thighs against mine, and I was trying to strike out at him with my arms, but he grabbed hold of my wrists and started to push my arms high up my back: even though I was probably much stronger than him, I was at such a mechanical disadvantage that I had to give in as it really began to hurt. I was shouting at him, screaming for the bastard to stop, but Richie carried on. I could feel his dick head at my pucker, and he as forcing himself forward, and even though I tried to clench my butt together as hard as I could, I kind of knew ultimately that he would win.

Suddenly there was a scream from Richie, and my own body jerked, too - really hurting my nose. Master Rafe stood there, his discipliner in his hand, and he was glaring at Richie who was writhing on the floor. "What's going on here?", he demanded.

Richie was silent, and although I wanted to tell him, I didn't want to drop Richie in the shit, so I kept quiet, too.

"So, a couple of slaves having sex during the working day... You know that's not allowed! I don't mind what you do in the dorms, but sex during the day is forbidden as I want you to focus on your work. That's not a good start to your new job, Steve! And you, Richie isn't it? You know the rules as well as I do. What have you got to say for yourselves? Spending time having fun, instead of working for your master..."

It was so unfair! I was being raped, and now I was being blamed. Richie just muttered "I'm sorry, master. Please forgive me..." But I kept quiet, not wanting to say anything.

"Across the bench, Richie, next to Steve", master Rafe commanded, and once the black was in position master Rafe pulled down his shorts. I felt the warmth of his body pressing all along the length of mine as we both knelt there.

"You slaves are getting beyond yourselves - you're lucky I don't send you both off to the doctor to have you calmed - you know what that is?"

"Yes, master", we almost chorused.

"Well, this is the final warning for both of you. Any more sex play during working hours, and you'll each lose one testicle. Understand?"

"Yes, master."

Richie screamed then, and gave four more shouts as there was a "swishing" noise as master Rafe brought down his discipline cane across the slave's naked butt.

And then it was my turn. "I never thought I'd need to punish you so soon, Steve", he said. "But learn this lesson well - I told you I was firm but fair, and you have already abused my trust in you...."

The cane caught me totally unawares, and I too shouted out with the shock as it sliced across my bare butt. Fortunately I'd gripped the vice with my hands, otherwise I think I'd have torn my septum as my whole body jerked. I desperately wanted to tell master Rafe that he was wrong, that I would be an obedient slave, and that I wanted to work hard here for him, but what was the point? He'd probably think the worse of me for trying to escape blame for what was happening. So I just had to stand there and take it, as four more cane strokes made their mark across me.

"Now, Richie, get on and get that ring out of Steve, as you were ordered", master Rafe commanded. "Then get him some shorts, and get on with your work. And you, Steve... What was all that fuss about? I only came in here because I heard you shouting? Do you always make that much noise when you're having sex? Well, it won't do here, you know - I don't care what you slaves do in the dorms, but I won't have my peace disturbed! If you're one of those men who likes to shout and cry when he's cumming, you'd better make sure you gag yourself. Understand?"

Well, what could I say? So I just muttered "Yes, master. I'm sorry, master."

He strode out, and Richie began to file at my nose ring - not as gently as before. When it was finally out I stood and glared at him, and he glared back at me. "You bastard!", I began, "Trying to rape me..."

"Hey, Steve, calm down... I wasn't trying to rape you, just have a bit of fun..."

"But I told you to stop... Look, I don't like dick up the ass, OK. So when I told you to stop..."

"Oh come on, Steve, grow up! Where have you been all your life? Don't you know that it's all a part of the fun? When you've got a guy helpless and you start to fuck him, a lot of guys cry out for you to stop - it adds to their excitement, to make them feel they're being fucked against their will, but they secretly really want you to go at them, and go at them hard. So the more you told me to stop, the more I thought you really wanted a good hard fucking.... We could have had a good time if master Rafe hadn't come in. I suppose the next time, I'll have to gag you..."

"There won't be a next time, Richie! There wouldn't have been this time, if I wasn't stuck in that fucking vice. You took the handle out deliberately didn't you, so I couldn't get free?"

"Of course I did. I've fancied your body ever since you came here, and having you helpless like that just makes you more desirable. Every man wants to fuck an ass that's like yours.. And taking you when you're effectively tied down was just too much of an opportunity..."

"Bastard! Don't even try again, right, or I'll turn your face into pulp!"

"Hey, calm down! It's no big deal, taking a dick up your ass... Anyone would think I was trying to hurt you or something..."

"Richie, no more, OK? Shut the fuck up, and get me those shorts."

It felt odd to be dressed again, to feel the cotton of the shorts rubbing against my dick and balls, especially as there wasn't even a trace of pubic hair to stop the fabric sliding over me. Still, I met the current physical training instructor: He was being sold to the US Marine Corps, he proudly told me. Master Rafe had seen an advertisement saying that the Government was looking for physically tough slaves with knowledge of hard training as it needed to boost the numbers in the armed forces, and after discussion with the slave, had agreed to sell him. The guy was really looking forward to serving our country, and to living with all the other hunks in the corps. "Do you know", he told me, "They don't differentiate between slaves and free men in the corps - we share the same barracks and everything. Except of course that they get paid, and can get married if they want. And I suppose the slaves can't refuse the dicks of the free men, if they want to fuck. Still, it will be a good life...".

And so I began my new career. I really enjoyed it - soon, I was totally in charge of the exercise, which began just after sunrise for all the guards and all the trainees, with an hour of vigorous exercises conducted in the open area, all of us together. It was a mark of pride of the guards and trainers that they could out-perform all the trainees, so everyone was really kept up to the mark - some of the trainees, especially the eighteen year old ones who had been jocks, were after all very good with their bodies. Throughout the day them I supervised the getting into shape of the trainees - in-between their lectures and practicals they always went on a long run, and I also made them do further exercise sessions with weights and so on to build them up. I always ran along with them on the runs, and soon got to know how to use my tawse to good effect to "encourage" those poor young bastards whose parents had let them overeat, or who had never moved from in front of the TV! I believe in practical training, too, so rather than describe the exercises with weights, I always did them along with the trainees (with much higher loads, of course).

Socially, I was having fun, too. Us guards and trainers slept in a roomy, airy dorm, and there was an unprecedented luxury - individual beds, which were "ours". Once you had a bed in the dorm you didn't change it, so when you jerked off at night you could spill your cum all over it if you wanted to, as it was only you who was going to have to endure the stiff patches the next night. Not that there was much jerking off: we were, after all, healthy, fit young guys, and as you would expect we therefore were heavily into sex. Being bigger and stronger than the rest I had no problem in making sure that I didn't have to take dick, but I basically fucked my way through all my fellows to see which of them suited me best. I don't know whether it's because he was the first guy I'd met there, or what, but Richie had a special interest for me, and once I'd forgiven him for trying to rape me, and I'd found out that he had a most fuckable ass himself, he and I spent most nights together. It wasn't like Grunt, who I think I'd almost loved - no, this was two big strong men who just liked sex and who found themselves a reasonably good fit in that area. I didn't mind kissing him and sucking him off, but I usually fucked him for my pleasure. Richie didn't like this much at first, but soon began to appreciate the skill with which I fucked - I think I had that edge on most of the others, from having to "stud" in public - I could now be really uninhibited when it came to drilling my dick into Richie, even if the rest of the guys in the dorm were watching TV or standing around.

I seemed to have been rehabilitated in the eyes of master Rafe, too, after my bad start - he often rode past as I was drilling the trainees, or cantered along beside me as I ran with them. One day when I'd got back, he came over and stood and looked at me as I cooled down - my shorts were sweat-soaked, and I was going through a set of gentle exercises to let my muscles relax and my heart to slow to normal. I of course went to the rest position, and he ran his hands lightly over my pecs, just rubbing my nips very lightly.

"So, Steve... Those nipples feel fine now, I can hardly tell where the rings went through. And that thatch of hair on your chest.... Is that about it?"

"Yes, master. Before I was shaved, that was about the natural limit. And on my belly..."

"Yes, I like that in a man, especially the thicker blade down the middle. Drop those shorts..."

I did as I was told, and he inspected my balls in the usual way, cupping them in his palm and separating them with his thumb to feel them.. I felt confident that he knew what he was doing, as he must have inspected hundreds of slaves before, and made no attempt to pull away.

"Excellent! Keep them shaved like this. And is your ass smooth, too?"

"Yes, master, as you commanded." Actually, I was glad I wasn't expected to grow hair in my ass again - when it had started to re-grow it had been really itchy and painful as the new hairs dug into the opposite cheek, and your skin is really sensitive down there, isn't it? I'd been glad to shave them off again.

"Do you know about cleaning yourself out properly, Steve?"

I blushed slightly, as I remembered how Charlie and Coon had used the enema hose on me. "Yes, master."

"Good. Well, clean yourself out properly after work, then present yourself at my house. It's time we got better acquainted... And I haven't taken your cherry yet, have I?"

"Master, it was Billy-Joe who did that..."

"Yes, I suppose it would be. He was your first owner, wasn't he? Still, I like to fuck all my slaves, just to ensure that they all understand who's the boss around here, and I regard my first time with a new slave as kind of symbolic; so even if, technically, you're not a virgin, you are to me. And, as I said when I won you after that card game, it will be nice to have a bit of white meat for a change - I usually select my trainers and guards because they have reasonable bodies, but apart from you they're all blacks as I need to keep the expenses down. So I'm looking forward to it, so make sure you're nice and clean as I very much dislike the smell of shit when I pull out of a slave, understand?".

I felt sick in my stomach at the thought of what was to come, and all I could do was mutter "Yes, master."

"What's the problem, Steve? You're usually cheerful and enthusiastic when I see you around the place. Aren't you pleased I'm taking the trouble to really get acquainted?"

"Master, please... I'll serve you in any way you command, of course. But I don't like.... I don't like having my ass used, I...."

"You should have thought of that before you became a slave! Billy-Joe was always telling us at the club about how you enslaved yourself voluntarily... Didn't it occur to you that a handsome, good-looking male with a body like yours would be used sexually?"

"No, master. I thought it was only women slaves..."

"Well, you're even more naive than I thought. But it doesn't matter - what you like and don't like is of no concern. Slaves exist to serve; and you will, in whatever way I choose. So remember - I want you squeaky clean inside tonight!"

With that he rode off, and I was left standing there, feeling utterly depressed and worried. I almost thought of running away, just taking off, and running as far as my body would take me. But what would be the point? With my brands, whenever anyone saw me they'd know I was a slave, and there was no way of removing my SIN. With no money and almost no clothes I couldn't hope to get all that far, and the moment the police stopped me for questioning, they'd see my SIN and return me here.... The best I could hope for then would be a whipping, and a fucking; and the worst was, I suppose, castration.

Work for the remainder of the day was just awful. And when I went back to the dorm and stood in the showers, Richie saw me and at once came over and put his arm around me.

"Steve, buddy, what's wrong?"

"Master Rafe wants me tonight... I've got to go around to his house..."

"Hey, that's fun! He usually feeds you on some of his leftovers as he eats dinner, and it's really good to have proper food again. And he sometimes gives you a beer, or a glass of wine - but be careful there, after a long time abstaining, even one beer can make you pretty drunk...."

"Yes, but he's told me to clean myself out inside... So he's going to fuck me...."

"So? No big deal - he's got a nice dick, not too thick, and it's easy to take. And he's a pretty sensual guy - he likes a lot of stroking and stuff beforehand, and he enjoys massaging your hole and lubing it up. And he'll probably play with your dick, too... It's a whole lot of fun."

"Richie, I can't... I can't take it. I hate it. That's why I was so angry when you tried to fuck me..."

"There's no such word as 'can't' for a slave, Steve! You don't have a choice, do you? He's our owner, remember? Look, it's only for a few minutes - even if someone was drilling your teeth without an anaesthetic you could take it for a few minutes, couldn't you? So just lie there and think about something else! I think he's really turned on by your body, so I guess he'll cum almost as soon as he's started. It will all be over before you've even had time to worry about it."

"No, Richie. It's not like that for me. I'm a 'top', and I hate taking it. It makes me feel as if I'm no longer a man, as if..."

"Steve, you are no longer a man - you're a slave, remember? And if you go on like this, you might become even less of a man - if you anger master Rafe, he'll punish you. And he has been known to send slaves for castration if he's very angry. Think about it, Steve - rejecting your owner's dick isn't very flattering to him, is it? What are you really saying when you do that? 'No master, you don't own my body. And I think your dick is repulsive'. No guy wants to hear that, does he? And you know how sensitive owners are about being obeyed... Come on, Steve, wise up! None of us here want to see you losing your balls, especially over something as trivial as this..."

"But I can't...."

"You must, Steve. Now, here, let me help you.... Maybe if I push the enema nozzle up you it will get you thinking about what it feels like to have another guy touching your hole.... You have done this before, haven't you?"

"Yes, Richie. At the Colonel's there were a couple of really nice slaves who always prepared me..."

"Well then, that's the first step... Come on... Bend over, reach back and spread that butt of yours, and let me get started...."

End Of Part Twenty Three

YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part twenty four

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

WORK AS USUAL?

I suppose having Richie help clean me out did help, but I was still shaking inside when I knocked at the slave door at the rear of master Rafe's house, and waited. They'd told me he had two indoor slaves, and I was surprised to see that one of them at least was a woman, when she opened the door - she was a black girl in her mid-twenties, wearing a mid-thigh length slave smock in white. I was in freshly-laundered slave shorts, and I felt my dick stir at the sight of her - I hadn't really seen a woman at close quarters for a long time, especially not someone about my own age who was clearly lithe and sexually desirable.

She kind of smiled as she saw my mouth drop open in amazement, and obviously knew what I was thinking as she whispered "Master Rafe doesn't just like big strong bucks like you, you know! Now, stop standing there getting a hard on, as he's waiting for you..."

She led me into a big room on the ground floor that was very masculine - leather sofas, a big table, polished wooden floor, a huge fireplace that was currently empty. There were no trinkets or ornaments, but a few good original pictures on the walls. The lighting was low, and master Rafe was sitting casually on one of the sofas. The girl bowed to him, and said "Is there anything else you requite, master...?"

"No. But stay close. It's time you were bred, and I might choose this slave to do it." Turning to me, he said "You do know how to fuck women, don't you?"

"Yes, master. I used to be put out to stud often, as master Billy-Joe needed the money. And before I was enslaved I had a lot of girlfriends, and I never..."

"Silence! A simple answer will suffice. I'll think about it - half breeds get better prices than pure black babies, and she needs a pregnancy to really bring her body on. Now, come and sit here by me..."

He indicated the couch, and told the girl to leave. This was like a dreadful re-enactment of a scene with Billy-Joe, and I could feel the sweat on my back as I leaned in to the cool leather of the couch.

His arm reached out, and he casually stroked my upper arm, caressing my biceps, then allowed it to fall onto my pecs where he toyed with my nips a bit - I felt myself starting to go hard as he did this. "I think you're better without those rings, don't you, Steve?"

Well, actually, Id' got used to them. And they were useful when I was running - when they bounced up and down they gave me a whole lot of sensation, and generally made me have an erection: a real advantage, when you're running naked, as I've explained. But he was my master, so I said politely "Yes, master, thank you."

Something in my voice must have sounded odd as he looked at me straight on, left his hand resting on my pecs, and said "You're not scared, are you, Steve? Your voice..."

Actually I was scared as hell about what he was planning to do to me. But you can't admit you're afraid, can you? So I mumbled "No, master..."

"Steve, what's wrong? Do you find me repulsive, or something?"

"No, master!" Actually, compared to being pawed by Billy-Joe's fat clammy hands, master Rafe's refined touch from his long, strong fingers was actually rather sensual.

He leaned forward. "Kiss me, Steve..."

Well, Billy-Joe had done that sometimes, forcing his vile tongue into me, and I hated it. And of course I'd done it with Grunt... But I'd never really taken the initiative. I though of how I used to kiss my girlfriends, put my hands on either side of his face and pulled him towards me. I pressed my lips to his, then pushed my tongue forward into his mouth. Once I'd got started it was easy, actually, and he responded. Soon we were kissing passionately, and embracing and running our hands all over each other's torsos - he'd been wearing a tight-fitting T and I simply rolled it up so it perched under his arms, so that I could get my hands on him.

I was hopelessly erect now, and his hand slid over my belly and under the waistband of my shorts to start to feel me. I moaned with pleasure, and our kisses got even more passionate. Then he pushed me away gently, and I saw from the way he began to look down what he wanted me to do - I slid off the couch to kneel between his legs, and undid the buckle on his leather belt, then the button at the top of his crisp pale blue jeans, and peeled his fly open. Underneath he had snowy white cotton briefs, and I pulled them down so that his dick flew up into the air. My nose was assailed by that delicious scent of man, that special smell you only get when a dick that has been confined in underwear breaks free.

Remembering my lessons I kept my eyes looking up to his as I took his dick into my mouth and started sucking it. I did every trick that the Englishman had taught us in the hope of getting him to cum - if he did that, something in my brain said, then he won't want to fuck! He was moaning with pleasure as I worked on him, but he made me stop, reaching down and pushing my head away.

"Let's get naked..." He whispered, and raised himself up slightly so that I could ease his jeans and briefs down over his butt and his legs. I undid his trainers and took them off, and removed his clothes over his feet, then knelt up and pulled his T over his head. Quickly, I slipped my shorts down, then went and sat beside him and stated kissing him again. We each groped at each others crotch, and were getting really passionate. I was really enjoying it, enjoying having another man appreciate my body like this, as I explored his.

Master Rafe broke off again, and stood up. He held out his hand to me and helped me to my feet, and, with our dicks jutting out proudly in front of us, he led me across the big room and we started up the wide staircase. At that moment the young slave girl popped her head out of a door that presumably led to the kitchen, and stared at us.

"Do you need me, master Rafe?"

"No, but stay in the kitchen, Luella. I haven't decided whether to use Steve here with you tonight yet. What do you think of him?"

I was astounded. I mean, it's one thing to be stark naked in front of a male slave, isn't it? But master Rafe didn't seem at all embarrassed about his female looking at him - I suppose that's how it is when you're a master. I felt really ashamed, though, thinking about how she was seeing me - all erect like this, when I'd been playing with another guy! The girl cast her eyes up and down me, appraising my body as if it was some piece of statuary, and said "He's a handsome stud, master... But are you sure he's up to breeding"? She laughed as she said this, and I realised why: under her gaze, my dick had collapsed, humiliatingly.

Master Rafe looked down - he was still rock solid - and his reply was meant to be funny, I suppose. "Don't worry - when the time comes, I'll make sure there's some life in him, even if I have to whip it into him!"

He led me on up the stairs and into his bedroom, that had a very modern steel-framed bed covered in snowy-white sheets. He pushed me back on to it, and sat astride my belly, then leaned forward and started to kiss me again. I was at once erect again, especially when he reached back and started to tease the tip of my dick up and down his butt crack.

"You like that, don't you, Steve? You want to fuck, don't you? I thought you were meant to be a big male stud, but you couldn't keep it up for a slave girl could you? But you like the feel of an ass, don't you?", he whispered, and his words gave me a real jolt. I mean, until I was enslaved I'd always thought sex with men was perverted, disgusting, and I'd been known as a cocksman always ready to fuck anything in skirts... And now here I was, with a naked man astride me, starting to leak pre-cum at the touch of his pucker against my dick. What had happened to me?

Master Rafe saw that something had changed in my mood, and stopped. He pushed my hands above my head and held me there with his - well, not really, as I could have easily pushed him off - but I guess it was symbolic of his mastery of me - and looked down into my eyes.

"You're surprised that you like men, aren't you, Steve? All those years of perverted education when you were growing up telling you it was "wrong" to like men, that it was somehow shameful to want to feel another dick against yours, to slide into a man's ass... I tell you, the Christians in this country have done more to cause misery and unhappiness for so many men than any other set of people in the whole of human history! Before they came along with their strange ideas about sex, men had a healthy enjoyment of their bodies: look at the Ancient Greeks, the Romans - they all understood that men like to bond together, than men enjoy the feel of other men against them, that it's only another man who can really understand what brings pleasure to a guy. And then the Christians spoiled it all for everyone, just as they try to spoil everything that men enjoy: no swearing, no drinking, no fucking other men... They just want to emasculate us, turn us into little harmless goodies, who creep along to church on Sundays and sing silly hymns to the big ju-ju in the sky! They've got a lot to answer for, I tell you, and, sadly, you're one of the ones they got at - it's not your fault, it's just that their influence is so pernicious and pervasive in our society."

"Don't misunderstand me", he went on. "There's nothing wrong with women. We need them to breed with.

And a lot of men get real satisfaction from a life-long relationship with them. But a lot of men don't - men who would prefer to be with other guys, men who want to really appreciate and enjoy the body of another man. That's what's wrong with the Christians - they want everyone to be the same, everyone ought to go out with women, get married, and breed 2.4 children so that they can pervert them in turn. It's ironic really, isn't it - their founder spent all his time running around with twelve other guys, and never married, and yet when guys today want to bond together, it's somehow wrong."

He stopped, and looked at me again. "Still, enough of me trying to explain your problem to you. There are more practical ways of teaching you how wrong you are...."

His head came down and he started kissing me again, and then he rolled off me and took me in his arms, and soon we were again caressing and stroking, feeling our dicks, enjoying the manly scent of our bodies and the taste of our sweat as out tongues explored each other.

I was enjoying it. It was fantastic. It wasn't at all like being used by Billy-Joe. Master Rafe treated me as an equal, and I forgot he was my owner, and I was a slave, until.... until he told me to lie on my belly with my feet on the floor. I thought he was going to sit astride my waist and massage my shoulders as he'd been enjoying feeling my muscles there only a moment before, but instead he pushed my feet apart with his, and I felt his dick probing at my crack. I froze. And as his pressure against me increased, I could take it no more.

I pushed him back, rolled over, sat up, and cradled my head in my hands with shame. "Please, master... Please, don't...."

I was expecting him to be angry, to shout, to have me punished. But instead he came and sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Steve, what's wrong... We were enjoying it.... "

"Please, master, I can't bear the thought of a dick up my ass. Please, master, I'll do anything else. I want your body, master, I want to feel you all over me. I want you to cum into my mouth, to stroke my balls, to..."

"Ssshhhh, Steve. Enough of this 'I want'. That's selfish, as well as not being very slave-like! Slaves don't 'want' things, do they? They get given things by their masters, and are grateful for them. And don't say you'll 'do anything else'.... Of course you would, if I commanded it."

I kept my head in my hands almost in shame, because I knew he was right. That's how slaves did think and act, and I wasn't doing that, was I? Somewhere deep down inside me I just knew I wasn't a slave, in spite of my collar and my brands. I was still a man, a strong, virile man with my own needs and desires, and I just couldn't mask all of them, even though I'd been taught the polite ways of slave speech, the correct way to hold my body in supplication, and all that stuff.

"I ought to have you taken out to the whipping frame, and get you thoroughly whipped, to beat some sense into you, you know that, don't you, Steve?"

"Yes, master."

"Is that what you want, Steve, a thorough whipping?"

Actually, even though I knew that was a terrible thing, at that moment it seemed preferable to being fucked. I just sat there, and muttered "Master, it's your choice, whether to whip me or not. I'm your slave, master." I knew this was the polite way of putting it, but there was still that terrible dichotomy in my brain - at one level I was his slave, at another, I was still a man.

"Hmmm... I think there's a deep problem here, Steve. By rights, I ought to tie you down and simply take what's mine. But I want you to give me your ass freely, as a proper slave would, thinking only of my pleasure. We'll need to do some more work on training you.... But you can relax... I'll stop trying to fuck you, for now..."

It felt just as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I sat upright, and saw him looking at me, smiling slightly. The next instant we were all over each other again, and in the heat of our passion it was only moments before we'd jerked each other off, shooting big streams of our cum across each others bodies.

We lay there on the starched white sheets, my deeply tanned muscular body against his more ordinary one, pale from the lack of exposure to the sun. He kissed me again, and said "Well, Steve, when I do breed you with Luella, there ought to be enough there to get her pregnant!"

I grinned back and said "Yes, master, and I'm soaking wet, too, with yours - do you always shoot so much...?" I stroked my chest as I said this, rubbing his creamy white cum into the thatch on my pecs to show him I loved his cum and wanted it to be part of me.

"Only when the other guy really turns me on, Steve..."

He didn't send me back to the slave quarters that night, and I forget how many times we woke and found each other again, just taking enjoyment from the feel of each others skin, the taste of our sweat, and that wonderful sensation as our dicks touched another guy's skin. Luella woke us in the morning, shortly before dawn: she stood there looking down at us, bodies intertwined together, and said "Master Rafe, it's almost dawn... Time to get down and see the slaves starting to exercise...."

She was holding a silver tray on which was a thin bone china cup and a silver teapot. She poured tea into the cup, added milk, took a biscuit from the silver caddy also on the tray, and handed the cup to our master. He sat up, brushing his hair back from his brow where it had fallen during our love making, and took the cup. I wasn't offered anything, of course- I might be his equal in bed, but I was a slave in the eyes of the world, and to Luella. He started to sip his tea, then said to me "No time to waste, Steve... Get up now, and get out there - don't you have to start the morning exercises soon?"

To tell you the truth I was embarrassed at having to get out of bed where it was obvious I'd been sleeping with another man, especially as my chest hair and pubes were stuck together with dried cum, and I was semi-erect. There was nothing for it though, was there, and so I got to my feet and stood there. In all the movies the guy covers himself with a sheet or something, or reaches down and picks up his pants and pulls them on quickly - but I couldn't do that as I couldn't disturb master Rafe by pulling the sheet off him, and my shorts were presumably downstairs in the living room. So I had to walk across the polished floor, almost hearing the slap of my naked feet as I saw the girl watching me, and acutely conscious of my state of arousal.

As I went out, I heard her say "That sure is one fine looking buck, master... When are you going to put him into me? I love that dick of his...."

I was blushing all over as I went down the stairs. I mean, I know I'm handsome, and I do have a great body, and I'm well hung... But you're not used to hearing yourself discussed like that, are you, especially not by a woman?

The next couple of days were uneventful, in that master Rafe just carried on as if nothing had happened - I saw him riding around on his horse, observing everything, and several times he rode alongside me as I ran with a pack of trainees on one of their strengthening runs. At night I generally slept with Richie, and he seemed pleased to have me fuck him - I think he liked being the one I'd "chosen", as most of the other guards did regard me as something rather special, being so physically desirable, and white. I began to relax - perhaps master Rafe had given up on the idea of fucking me, I thought. I just buckled down to working hard, and trying to be as dutiful as possible.

I wasn't there when master Rafe's horse took a tumble and threw him: they said it was a gopher hole or something, the horse's hoof went into it, and he was thrown. He wasn't badly hurt, but was very shaken and bruised. They thought at first that the horse had broken a leg and would have to be put down (thank goodness that didn't happen to slaves, I thought - or did it? What happened to men injured in the mines or quarries?), but the vet finally diagnosed only very bad bruising. The prognosis seemed to be that both rider and horse would be unable to ride together for a couple of weeks.

When I was finishing off later that day, clearing away all the weight training equipment, master Rafe appeared and, as a dutiful slave, I went and knelt in front of him.

"Get up, Steve, and carry on with your work." He watched me as I jogged around the area with the weights, and when I was done he said "With master Billy-Joe, you were used to pull his rickshaw, weren't you? I saw you lots of times tethered in that humiliating way outside the club, totally naked and chained there by your nose ring."

"Yes, sir. He used me like that."

"Well you're going to have to do the same thing for me - I can't ride, but I do need to get around the place here. I've borrowed that rickshaw from Billy-Joe, or, rather, he's charged me an exorbitant hire fee for it, as he says it's difficult for him to do without it (even though I've seen him in town recently in some fancy gold-plated contraption - very vulgar it is). So tomorrow morning you can pull me around the estate, and one of the other slaves can temporarily take over your training duties. There are several slaves who can do that, but only you know how to pull a rickshaw properly, I believe. Be at the back door of my house at dawn, ready for my first inspection."

"Yes, master", I replied humbly, even though I was seething inside. It just wasn't fair - I'd done the rickshaw think, and pretty humiliating it had been. Now I was on my way up again, near the top of the hierarchy of slaves here, I was being demoted, made to do this utterly humbling job. All my fellows in the dorm would secretly be laughing at me, I knew. And it was just like that - as I went to pull Richie into my bed, one of the guys at the other end of the room let out a loud imitation of a horse neighing, and all the others burst into laughter. I went to go and punch the bastard, but Richie held on to me and whispered "that's what they want, Steve! If you react, it will only get worse... Just ignore it, or laugh along with them and it will soon stop."

Several other guys were doing it now, and there were horse sounds running around the dorm. I suppose Richie was right, so I said to him in a very loud voice so they could all hear "Get on your hands and knees tonight, Richie, as a real stallion's going to fuck you.... You always say I'm hung like a horse, well, I'm feeling really randy tonight and you're going to take it, hard, like a stallion fucks."

The other guys all laughed at this, and, indeed, the mocking noises stopped - or, rather, they were silenced by Richie's cries as I really did pound him: I was in pretty foul mood, and, frankly, I worked out my anger on him. As we lay together afterwards I felt a bit ashamed, as there were tears running down Richie's cheeks. I hugged him close to me, and at first he just refused to respond, lying there stiff and immobile, but when I whispered into his ear "Richie, please... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be like that.... I didn't mean to hurt you" he turned to face me.

Putting his mouth close to my ear, so that none of the others could hear, he kind of sighed "Steve, you've got to learn to control that temper of yours.. Look, buddy, for your own good.... A slave with a temper is a slave that sooner or later will be 'calmed' by the doctor. I'm not crying because you hurt me - but don't ever take me brutally like that again, please. I'm crying because I'm going to lose you as a buddy one day - you'll be sent off and come back as a eunuch, with all your fire and energy gone. Please, Steve, try and behave - I love you, Steve, and I want you with me as a proper whole guy...."

I was shattered. I mean, how could he love me? We'd hardly know each other for very long. But the worse thing was I didn't love him. Sure, I liked him a lot.

And, as I've told you, he was the slave I'd rather fuck that any of the rest of them. But I just didn't feel for him the way he evidently did for me.

"Richie, Richie.... Oh, this is a fucking disaster. Look... You know I like you a lot. You're my fuck buddy here. But Richie... I don't... I can't... Oh, shit... I don't know how to say this without hurting you. But Richie, I don't love you."

"So why do you keep fucking me, rather than take the others in turn?"

"Well, because, as I said, I like you a lot. I like you more than any of the others. I like fucking you, I like talking to you, I like to be around you. But I don't love you, Richie. Look, can't we just be fuck buddies, best friends here....?"

"No, Steve. It's not like that. I love you, and I want you to love me in return."

"But I can't do that. No, I don't know how to do that. It's not something I've got control over. You either love someone or you don't. You can't alter that..."

"It seems to me there's a lot of things you don't have any control over, Steve. Your temper, how you feel... Some buddy you are!"

"Please, Richie, don't be like that... I would if I could. I do really like you. Can't we just carry on as we are now? It's pretty good for me when I'm fucking you, and I thought the same was true for you..."

"It is, Steve, but only because I believed it was leading on to more..."

Jesus fucking Christ, I thought to myself. I'd been here before with one of my girl friends. She'd let me fuck her, and we were having great sex. Then she started in on all this love stuff, and finally she told me she'd only let me fuck her as she thought I wanted to marry her - I mean, I was only nineteen at the time, and all I wanted was great, hot sex, and lots of it. And now here I was again, in essentially the same position. What was wrong with people? Couldn't they understand that a man like me needs sex, and that it was meant to be fun, something you did together because you liked it, something that caused your whole body the most incredible feelings it ever had? Why did they have to come on with all this "love", when sex was enough?

"Richie, I never told you... I never gave you any reason to think... "

"You did, Steve. You kept fucking me. You kept sleeping with me...."

"Yes, but that's because the sex was good. I thought you were enjoying it, too. It's not serious with me, it's just sex.... I never said anything about going further..."

"But now you know, can you take it further, Steve? Can you start to love me?"

I thought about this. Well, anyway, it wouldn't be good to give an immediate reply, would it? I remembered seeing one of those postcards once, those with the supposedly meaningful mottos on them, and this one said "If you have to ask if you're in love, the answer's no."

I felt his whole body tense, as I lay there, considering. It was obviously very important to him. "Look, Richie", I whispered eventually, "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I really do like you. But that's all it is. That's all it ever has been. And that's all it ever will be. I don't want to lose you as a friend, as a fuck buddy... But that's it...."

"Yes, Steve. That does have to be it. I can't carry on sleeping with you, enjoying your body, loving you, when you don't love me. Find some other guy to fuck, will you?"

"Hey, Richie, don't be like that.... The sex is great between us: you like my dick and I like your ass... And the other stuff, the kissing and cuddling, that's good, too. Be reasonable.... Let's be buddies, friends...."

"Didn't they tell you, Steve, that you can't be friends with a slave? Slaves like us need to be casual fucking partners so we don't care if one or the other of us is sold. Or we need to have intense, deep relationships so that if we're split up, we do at least have something meaningful to look back on after we've got over the pain. But friends... No. Slaves can't be friends, Steve. After all, master Rafe might order me to whip you tomorrow, or order you to whip me.... Friendship doesn't work."

Tears were really flowing down his cheeks now, and as I tried to lick them away and hold him to me to comfort him, he thrust me away and got out of bed, and walked back to his own. I lay there thinking about what he'd said. Billy-Joe had told me that you couldn't be friends with a slave, but he meant that a free man and a slave were now so different that friendship no longer worked. Richie's outburst gave a whole new meaning to it.

Look, I'm not insensitive, and I really felt for Richie, but what was I supposed to do? There was no point in me lying awake worrying about it, was there? That wouldn't serve any useful purpose, and I had a busy day tomorrow, probably. So I turned over and went to sleep.

Actually I didn't sleep all that much - not long after the lights went out I could hear Richie gently sobbing. The others heard it, too, and occasionally one of the other slaves would slip out of his bed and go and kneel by Richie to try and comfort him. All this coming and going really disturbed me, and I called out to them to tell them to stay in bed and get to sleep. I was astonished when the youngest guy of all, someone who was normally pretty mild and retiring and was usually fucked by all the others, came over, looked down at me, and said "Shut the fuck up, Steve! Haven't you done enough already?"

I ought to have taken him across my knee and given him a good hard spanking, but several of the other guys called out "Right on, Jerry, you tell the bastard." I'd never known that the others so resented me until now, and I lay there in the dark, wondering what I'd done wrong - after all, we were all slaves together, and I thought we were getting on well: I'd fucked all of them at one time or another, and none of them had complained. I was so shocked that I did nothing, and he walked back to his own bed, his young butt clenched together in tension - I guess he'll never know what he avoided just then.

They cold-shouldered me in the showers in the morning - well, I mean, when you're all crowded in together you can't really avoid touching the others, can you? But they didn't speak to me at breakfast, and they all made a special effort to chat to Richie, who was wearing a kind of martyred look. It was almost as if he was enjoying "the break up", as I heard him refer to it, as much as he'd enjoyed the actual sex.

I went out, leaving them behind, and went over to master Rafe's house, and there at the back door was my familiar rickshaw. I'd dressed in clean slave shorts as usual, and stood there wondering if I ought to take them off - would master Rafe require me to run totally naked, as Billy-Joe had? I decided to wait and see what happened, and master Rafe came out shortly afterwards, looking immaculate as usual in his short-sleeved shirt and pressed jeans, his boots highly polished. His discipliner hung from his belt, and he was idly moving his tawse around from hand to hand.

"So, Steve, good morning... You aren't looking as bright and cheerful as you normally do...."

"Good morning, master."

"What's the matter? They tell me there was a disturbance in the dorm last night. It was you and that Richie, wasn't it?"

"Yes, master."

"Let me guess - a lovers' tiff....?"

"NO, master!". I almost forgot myself, and shouted.

"Ah, so we're sensitive about it, are we? He's your fuck buddy, isn't he? And something happened."

"He was my fuck buddy, master." I was amazed almost that I could say this. At one time I'd never have admitted to anyone that I was fucking another guy.

"And you broke it up...?"

"No, master, he did. He didn't want to be just fuck buddies...."

"Oh, one of those drama queens that wanted you to love him, I suppose. Can't you slaves understand that you ought to focus on what your owner wants, rather than your own selfish emotions? So you broke up?"

"There was nothing to break up, master. We were just fuck buddies, friends... And he wanted more."

"He should know that you can't be friends with a slave, Steve. Especially not a tough one like you - tough in mind, and tough in body. I think you know what you want, and you just go after it, just like me.

We operate in different spheres now, of course, as all you can pursue is the bodies of your fellow slaves, and I can chase wealth and power.... But it's much the same: you and I are alike, I think, we both know what we want, and we go out to get it. Still, enough of this philosophising - work calls."

"Now, Billy-Joe had you run naked, but I don't need that as I see enough naked slave butts all day without having yours right in front of my face all the time. And he told me how important it was to have you manacled into the shafts, to remind you of your proper position - but I think you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, master."

"He said a lot of other things too about the management of a pony slave, that I'll ignore for the moment. You can just run free, and obey verbal orders as usual. Now, take me off to the exercise ground, so I can see how the exercises are going without you leading them."

I picked up the shafts, and trotted off at a fast jog, feeling again that sensation of being used, used just as an animal might be used. Sure, I wasn't manacled, and I wasn't naked. But I was still like a draft animal, pulling my master along behind me. And I couldn't help wondering what other things Billy-Joe had told my owner about the management and control of pony slaves.

End Of Part Twenty Four