Young Stud

YOUNG STUD

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Thirteen

"NO, boss, please....", I begged. I couldn't bear the thought of having to expose my asshole to my dad.

"Do as you're told!", he rapped. "Your sale is far from certain....."

Well, what could I do? I spread my feet a little - I have to, to touch the floor, as with a muscled body like mine it's not so easy to touch the floor with your feet together, especially as the boss insists on Jeff and me doing it with our palms on the floor, and not just our fingertips, when we were training.

I felt the boss's hands pulling my butt cheeks apart. "See, Mr Masters - I have him shave down here of course, as when he is studding it is inevitable that glimpses of this delight make themselves seen by the audience. But observe that in spite of the rather heavy usage that he has had, the sphincter is nice and tight, and ready to welcome any man...."

"What do you mean, sir? 'Rather heavy usage'? Steve is straight - in fact his mother and I worried perpetually about him knocking up some girl at high school or college...."

"You certainly should have been worried, Mr Masters - Steve is exceptionally virile. A lot of my studding customers reported back that Steve's cum 'took' much more often than expected, and you have more than a hundred grandchildren by now.... But then Jeff discovered sex with men, and now, I think you'll find, his preference is man-on-man sex. And his former partner, Jeff, had a very large penis: Steve's sphincter took a real battering whenever he was being fucked by Jeff."

"Sir, you must be joking....", dad almost spluttered. "A hundred grandchildren? And Steve enjoying male sex?"

"Not at all. Think about it - he has been used as a stud for two years or so, and generally several times a week. So perhaps he has studded four hundred to five hundred times, and if we think of the percentage conceptions, as most owners of the bitches ensure he is used at their fertile period.... then we need to allow for the aborting of the females, as owners mostly require males as they are more versatile when grown.... A hundred is not at all unlikely. You are a lucky man, sir, to have your genes spread so widely: not many men have the opportunity to see their sons perpetuate the family line like that. And as for the sex with men - well, my suspicion is that Steve is one of those men who always 'conformed', who saw their buddies at school talking about sex with the girls, may even have seen them doing it, and who simply went along with it. He's good at it, too - I have enjoyed watching him at stud. But once he had discovered the delights of sex with men, I think his ardour for studding went away a little."

"NO, sir, Steve would never willingly have sex with another man. You must have forced him..."

"Far from it! Only this morning I discovered he had forcibly fucked a young Mexican slave, against the boy's will. And when he was with his partner, the Jeff he keeps on about, it was spectacular. And don't you think that's why he's so worried about Jeff? It's not just his buddy - it's his lover. Anyway, once he's yours you can discuss, and indeed control, his sexuality further. In the meantime you need to examine his anus...."

"Certainly not!"

"I'm afraid I insist. I do not want the possibility of you repudiating the sale later on the basis that his anus is torn or damaged, and so he is unsuitable for sex."

"That is nonsense! I have no intention of repudiating the sale, on any grounds. And the state of his anus will in future be irrelevant to any consideration of sex...."

"I expect you're right - Steve does not really enjoy taking cock, and he prefers to 'top' the other man, I believe. So if you give him some choice, I doubt that his anus will see much use. But, nevertheless, I insist you at least make a token gesture to examine him properly. I will not look at how much of how many fingers you insert into him, but I could, with a clear conscience, tell a Court that you did finger him if you did at least touch him there... Without that, the sale cannot proceed."

Standing there, rather uncomfortable, my face flushing as my head was down, let alone from listening to the conversation as the boss and my dad talked about my asshole, it seemed surreal. But then I almost jumped a mile, as something touched my asshole - it could only be dad's finger! I could hardly believe it - especially when he scratched around a bit, causing me to move uneasily, shifting my weight around. And then, mercifully, it was over.

"I assume he is satisfactory?", I heard the boss ask.

"I suppose so - I have no experience of this."

"Well I earnestly recommend that you ensure the slave keeps himself perfectly clean down there - he is trained in administering enemas. Now please examine his thighs - I am rather pleased with the way that my programme of making him run long distances has strengthened them and given them a lot of power - it was particularly useful when studding, as a lot of thrust comes form the thighs. And of course with another man, power is essential to force the dick home..."

Dad said nothing, but I felt his hands running down my thighs, from my butt crack almost to my knees. My face was burning with shame, and then the boss ordered "Lift your leg, Steve - end the left leg back from the knee, so we can feel your calf."

So I had to stand there, wobbling a bit on one leg, as the boss and dad commented on the muscles in my calf, and the boss complimented dad on evidently allowing me to go barefoot a lot of the time as a kid, as my toes were so straight. I hated being talked about like this, and, to make it worse, dad even seemed to be entering into the spirit of the thing and actually asked the boss questions about my exercise regime, diet, and so on.

The words I was dreading came then, though. Well, I thought I would dread them, as I was ordered to turn around and face the two men. I had not wanted to expose my dick to dad, but after he'd fingered my ass, it no longer seemed so important.

The boss insisted dad feel all around inside my mouth, to make sure there were no loose teeth, or ulcers, and as he did so my nose was assailed by the smell of the soap he always used - it took me right back to childhood, when he'd popped some sweet or something into my mouth and I smelled the faint aromatic scent of his skin next to my nose.

Dad asked the boss about the tattoo on my jaw line, and the boss's view was that this was sufficiently small that it might be possible to remove it. "After all, Steve's SIN is clearly tattooed all over the inside of his forearm, too", he added, "and so you would not be breaking the law that requires SINs to be visible - provided, that is, you never let him wear a long-sleeved shirt. Many owners prefer the jaw line as it gives you more flexibility in dressing the slave...."

The boss was justifiably proud of my pecs and nips, and now dad had to run his hands over them, and he even agreed that I was better developed than when he had last seen me. But for some reason his hands lingered over my nips, and I knew they were going hard and thrusting at his palms. Finally, dad commented on this to the boss, who just shrugged and said "I told you Steve was a really sexy man: it's a sure sign that a man is interested in sex when his nipples erect when touched."

The boss actually asked dad where I'd been born, as he said that he'd always been impressed by the very neat way that my belly button was tied off, and dad's hand was running across the plane of my belly now, and he in turn complimented the boss on ensuring that I was so wonderfully strong there.

Both men stood there then, as the boss looked at dad. "The final stretch, then - please examine the penis for blemishes: I had the finest veterinarian 'skin him so there's absolutely no scarring, and when you erect him you'll see the shaft is wondrously smooth. And you should squeeze each testicle gently to satisfy yourself that they are genuine: it's not unknown for unscrupulous owners to have a slave castrated and then fill his sac with prosthetic balls to maintain 'the look' - a gentle squeeze, so you can see his reaction, is generally sufficient to ensure they're genuine."

"But why did you have his foreskin removed?"

"Market forces, really: my customers preferred to 'see' a stud fully, and are interested in observing his cock head before studding. And I personally prefer it, and so although Steve did not have a long foreskin, I decided to have it removed about a year ago."

Dad looked distinctly nervous as he reached down for my dick - not as nervous as I was, I can tell you - or as ashamed, and embarrassed. And the boss told dad to stroke me to erection, as it was impossible to examine my shaft properly in a relaxed state.

Look, I don't know if you've ever had your dad holding your erect dick in the palm of his hand, but it's very odd. I mean, it's bad enough having an older guy playing with your dick, but when it's your dad, well, that's something else. And then it was as if dad was used to feeling a guy's balls, as he seemed to be every bit as expert as some of the stud customers at "weighing" them in the palm of his hand, and then gently rolling each one between thumb and forefinger.

When, on prompting form the boss, he gently squeezed my left ball I actually cried out, to which the boss nodded, and said "Genuine!". But when dad's fingers started to feel for my right ball, I couldn't bear the tension - well, you'll all know what I mean, with your balls so very sensitive. I was anticipating the "squeeze", and couldn't help moving away from dad's fingers, totally involuntarily.

"Steady!", the boss snapped. "It will soon be over, Steve." And then to dad "Go ahead, please...."

Well dad was nervous too, now, and it wasn't so much a

gentle squeeze as a rather sharp pinch, and I actually screamed.

"Satisfied, Mr Masters?", the boss asked.

"Oh yes, of course. I'll just sign....."

"No - you are buying this slave who is described in the contract as 'fully functioning' and 'suitable for stud and other sexual purposes'. Before you can sign, we will have to see Steve using his sexual apparatus."

I stood there wondering what was going to happen, and the boss led dad over to one of the couches, and the two men sat side by side. "Come over here, Steve, and kneel in front of us", the boss called. "I think you find it easier to masturbate kneeling down, rather than standing up?"

I began to panic. I mean it's bad enough being naked in front of your dad when you're twenty one, and to have him "inspect" your body. But to have to jerk off in front of him - well, I mean, I assume dad knew I did jerk off, as all young guys do. But it's not the sort of thing you talk about together, is it? And you certainly don't do it together.

But there didn't seem to be much choice. I walked very slowly across the room to where the two men sat, trying not to let my dick jerk up and down (it was still almost hard from where dad had stroked it). I knelt in front of them, and at once the boss snapped "You know how I like to see you kneeling! Knees spread, your butt resting on your heels, back straight, head bowed...."

Well, at least my head was going to be bowed - there's no way I could look at them whilst I was trying to jerk off. But as my butt touched down onto my heels, I was almost consumed with the unpleasant sensation as my slippered ass protested. There was no postponing it, though, was there? So I began to tease my dick, letting my thumb strike the flange, and occasionally raking the piss slit with a finger nail. I tried to think of all the sexy thoughts I could - of all the bitches I'd fucked, but the recurring images that kept coming to mind was of Coon's lovely big ass, and of Jeff, both fucking away with me. And then that thought cleared, and it was only Jeff - and as soon as I began to remind myself of how fantastic it was to have this big, strong man totally in my power, skewered on my dick, things began to happen: my dick went rock solid, and I started to grunt softly in time with my strokes. Somehow, just as when I fucked Jeff for a "demonstration" in front of a lot of other guys, once I'd got started the world kind of closed down around me, and all I had was the sensation from my dick, and my own erotic imagination.

"Catch it!", the boss shouted, and I realised I was about to shoot. Almost instinctively I put my hand up and felt the hot splash of cum strike my palm. Then I had to look down, and try to stop the stuff leaking through my fingers onto the rich carpet of the hotel suite.

I rested there, my chest heaving and sweat pouring off me as it had been a really intense session, and as I looked down at the palm of my hand I was actually quite proud of the amount of cum I'd managed to produce - especially considering that I'd only fucked Juan an hour or so before! There's not a lot of guys who can produce a big quantity so quickly, but then, I suppose I really am fit and virile, so it helps!

"Present it, Steve", the boss said quietly, breaking into my reverie.

I knew I had no choice, so now I had to raise my head and look at the two men who sat in front of me, both of whom were staring at me intently. The boss gestured, and I realised he wanted me to raise my hand filled with cum up towards them. I had been hot and sweaty form the effort of jerking off, but now I felt the heat flooding my cheeks in embarrassment and shame as dad peered down at my cum, and the boss said quietly "Satisfactory, Mr Masters? Young Steve here had sex only just before we set out, so I think this is very impressive.... You can see why he is such a good stud.... That's one of the reasons why you have all those grandchildren...."

It was too much. A guy shouldn't have to let his dad see how much he can shoot! The nearest we'd ever got to this was when I was about fourteen, and dad had come into my bedroom unexpectedly as I had been jerking off. I was right on the edge, and couldn't stop - even though I let go of my dick under the bedclothes, I began to shoot, and dad looked at me very strangely as I lay there trying not to move and make it obvious I was trying to catch my cum without disturbing the sheets. I failed miserably, and then it was even more embarrassing as I knew mom would find the hard patches on them when she changed them the next week. I tried to avoid it by changing my own bed and taking the sheets down to the laundry room, but mom and dad saw me do this and both laughed, making jokes to each other about how I must be getting to be a man, to want to help around the house like that.

But now here I was with a palm full of cum, and my dad staring at it. He seemed somehow interested and muttered to the boss "Indeed... Most spectacular... In fact, a chip off the old block... I remember how I was at his age."

"OK, Steve. We've seen enough - get rid of it", the boss ordered.

I went to get up to go and get some toilet tissue or something to clean my hand, but the boss sent an icy chill down my spine as he added "Lick it up, so your new owner can see that you're used to the taste of cum."

"Please, no...."

"Steve, obey me! You've never been worried about taking my cum, so why should your own cause you a problem? Now, do as I command, or it's off to the auction for you."

Well, what could I do? I raised my hand towards my face and slurped it down, then licked my palm and fingers clean, all the time blushing furiously.

"Steve ate your cum?", I heard dad ask.

"Certainly! With Steve and Jeff, it seemed pointless to pay some whore bitch to come in and relieve my tensions - and there's no difference between a man or a woman blowing you, is there? Indeed, like a lot of men I've spoken to, I find I prefer a man with his lips around my cock - he does a better job, I find, as he had practical experience of knowing what it feels like. Both Steve and Jeff are most satisfactory cock suckers... And of course you want the slave to eat your cum as you want your cock left nice and clean, and with no cum leaking out and soiling your pubic hair, or your boxers."

"But my son... Eating your cum...."

"Mr Masters, as I keep explaining, it was not your son - it was, and is, my slave! You will find that the slave called Steve is a very different person from the boy you call Stephen. He has lived for two years as a stud, lived very close to another stud, discovered ways of using his body to please men that he would have perhaps never been aware of. I do earnestly counsel you to think again, very seriously about buying this slave: he will never be your son again in the eyes of the law as I have explained; and in terms of his personality he will never be the 'Stephen' you raised and nurtured - all that has gone, to be replaced by the new, hard, Steve, sure of his sexuality and unashamed of displaying it, as we have already seen."

"No, I can't leave Stephen to this life of depravity. We will learn to live together again, as a proper family..."

"Well, Mr Masters, do not say that you have not been warned. But perhaps a further demonstration of how things have changed is called for - I think I would like to feel Steve's lips on my cock one last time before he is no longer mine: as I said, he has very considerable skills as a cock sucker, and I will miss them, I think. I propose that he should pleasure me, and then proceed to do the same to you - once you have experienced his abilities, I doubt you will feel the same way about him...."

I listened in dumb horror. I mean I didn't particularly object to sucking the boss's dick, as I'd done so many times before. It would be a bit more difficult, with dad watching. But what the boss was now proposing was utterly disgusting, totally vile... I mean, I'd hardly ever seen dad's dick, and now the boss was suggesting I should blow him.

"Absolutely not!", dad exploded. "I have never heard of such a thing. Although I am divorced, I was a happily married man, and there's no way I am going to receive a blow job from another man."

"It's your loss, Mr Masters. As I said, statistics show that most men prefer another man, once they have experienced it. After all, how can a woman possibly know what it feels like when your cock is caressed by the lips and tongue? But I think I will avail myself one last time, as I said." The boss looked at me calmly, pointed at his crotch, and said "Steve... Get to work! And make sure not one drop of cum falls on this suit."

Almost numb with shock I shuffled forward until I was between the boss's outstretched legs, and rested my hands on his knees in the way he liked (but without putting my weight on them). I put my head forward and nuzzled his cock gently through the fabric of his suit, then moved back, pulled down his zip, and gently, oh so gently, eased the boss's dick out through his fly. He was half erect already, and as soon as I kissed his dick head and let my tongue flick sensuously to touch the sensitive areas just under the head, he became totally hard.

Look, I don't need to describe how to suck a guy's cock to you in detail, do I? I was used to the boss, and he was used to me, and after a few seconds I totally forgot dad was watching me as I did as I had been taught. And, of course, it was no problem to swallow all his cum as the boss never produced all that much - I wondered if my flow would dry up like that as I got to be old.

The boss tucked his dick away himself, leaned back and gave a contented sigh, and ruffled my hair gently as I knelt there still. "I'll miss you, Steve", he said. Then, turning to dad, asked casually "Are you sure you haven't changed your mind?"

"Certainly not!"

"Well then, we may as well sign the contracts now. Do you have the certified cheque with you for the payment?"

I knelt there as dad and the boss both signed both copies of the agreements, then took one each, and dad handed over a cheque to the boss, which he examined cursorily, folded once, and put into his calf skin wallet. Both men shook hands, and dad came over to me.

"Get up, Stephen. I've got some proper clothes with me, and you can dress sensibly again and not go displaying yourself to everyone...."

"If you would be advised by me, Mr Masters....", the boss began. "...that would be a bad idea. I have pointed out that you are in effect breaking the law by buying a slave who was formerly related to you. There is indeed some family resemblance between you and Steve, and yet it is clear that you are a free man, and the SIN on Steve's jaw line, which is impossible to disguise, marks him out as a slave. If you dress him in free men's clothes, it will draw attention to the fact that your slave looks like you, and questions might be asked. As a lawyer, any prosecution of you for breaking the slavery laws would be bound to be looked on unfavourably by the Bar Association, and you might have to pay an enormous fine to the Courts, and then find yourself without a livelihood. I would advise you to keep Steve dressed as a slave - he's used to it, and there's no harm in it - indeed, you might think of yourself as spreading a little happiness in the world, as other men get the opportunity to feast their eyes on Steve's handsome body."

I don't think dad liked the last bit of the boss's remarks, but he saw me nodding generally in agreement, so told me to get dressed - and, as you know, that hardly takes a moment when all you've got is a T, shorts and slave sandals. Dad and the boss then shook hands, and I went to do the same. The boss looked at me "You're still a slave, Steve, even though you're not my slave. And free men do not shake hands with slaves."

With that he turned and walked out of the suite, dad fiddled around packing a few things into his overnight case, and we turned to leave. "Sir....", I began. "You'd better let me carry that case - it would be a dead give-away if you carried your own case and had a slave with you."

"Stephen, you don't need to call me 'sir' - I'm your father!"

"Dad.... It's hard.... But, look, we're going to be going around together, and you heard what the boss said about us looking alike and all that... Well, if anyone heard me calling you 'dad' they'd be on to us, and I don't want you to be enslaved for breaking the law! It's best if I act like a slave, I reckon, all the time, and that means being respectful to you. So I'll call you 'sir', all the time, even when we're alone, and that way I'll be used to it."

There was a twinkle in dad's eye as he muttered "Good thinking, Stephen. And it will be nice to have some respect from you - that was sadly lacking in your last years at home."

"Sir...", I hesitated, as a slave does, waiting for acknowledgement. "Sir, perhaps you should call me 'Steve' - that's what's tattooed all over my back."

Dad nodded, and we went out of the suite and down to the garage ,where dad had a hire car. He went to drive, and I suggested I should, as that's what slaves do. Then when he went to sit in the front seat, I had to point out to him that owners were meant to enjoy the luxury of the whole of the rear to themselves, so he shrugged and got in the back.

With dad's permission I drove straight to the gay bar, but when we got there the solitary barman who had arrived told us that a slave transporter had been by earlier and had "collected the big gay white guy and the young Mexican" and "no, he didn't know which slave transporter, but he thought it was one of the big companies like UPS."

Dad tried calling some of the big companies on his cell, but all he got was the stonewall reply that "They couldn't discuss a delivery except with the client", and so that seemed to be that. Dad sat there in the back and said "Head out of town, and we'll pick up the interstate - it's a long way to Florida."

"Sir, please... We can't leave Jeff..."

"And I've told you, Steve, that I am not going to buy another slave, so the fate of Jeff is unimportant. Not under any circumstances. So hit the road."

I tried pleading and begging, and dad finally lost his temper and told me that he'd call the SP if I didn't obey him. Well, I think he was bluffing, as I could tell them that he had bought me illegally, but I wasn't about to risk it as he was after all my dad, so we headed out of town.

"Please, sir, why Florida?"

"You heard your old owner, Steve: the 'no slave' zone between here and the North. I was going to drive us home, but now that's not possible, we're going to find one of those slave smugglers in Miami."

I took a couple of days, and I can still remember some of the incidents on the way. For example, the first few times we stopped to eat, dad didn't realise that he and I would have to go to different parts of the restaurant unless the place had a shared eating facility. And then, when we were in one of those places, a woman at the next table with a young slave boy with her who looked really miserable (could it be the love bite marks all around his slender neck, I wondered - she looked very predatory and he was so young) seemed shocked when she heard dad discussing the menu with me. I leaned forward and whispered "Just order for me, sir... A slave doesn't choose....", as I pointed to the woman who was still looking at us suspiciously.

Later that day we were at one of the rest stops on the Interstate and dad got chatting to the owner of a cute young nigga bitch - she and I simply stood there, but I could see her looking at my body admiringly. Dad finished his coffee and was about to get back into the car when the other guy said casually "Fine looking slave you've got there - it's unusual to see a whitey as handsome as that boy. He must have cost a packet."

Dad nodded, and the guy went on "You wouldn't consider letting him stud my bitch, would you? She's in season, and a fine handsome boy like your slave would be just the thing to produce a really nice pup..."

"Certainly not!"

"You sound like a Northerner, sir! You come down here, buy up a good-looking slave, and then don't extend traditional Southern courtesies.... I suppose you're a fag, and you're slamming that boy's ass: you fags just can't get to grips with breeding...."

"Now hold on!" Dad sounded very angry. "Yes, I am from the North, and I did indeed buy this slave. But I wasn't aware of these' courtesies' as you call them.

And I most certainly am not a fag! How dare you!"

"Perhaps I have been overly hasty, sir. But down here if a man has a nice-looking bitch like mine, and another man has a fine looking boy like yours, then it's generally considered polite, if the bitch's owner wants to breed her, to offer the use of the stud if asked. After all, it will only take a few minutes, and the boy is not harmed in any way. In fact, I reckon, looking at the way your boy is aroused, that you'd better let him stud her or else he'll be uppity for the rest of the day...."

Both men looked at me, and I was very conscious of the bulge at the front of my shorts. It's not that I wanted to fuck the bitch, but having this guy talk to dad about the possibility of being used was really turning me on: it might make dad realise something of the life I'd been leading.

Dad seemed very hesitant, and the guy went on "Well a real slave owner would be glad to let his boy work out some of his spunk...."

I saw dad hesitate again, then look at me, and I nodded faintly. "Thank you, sir, I can see I've got a lot to learn about Southern ways", he told the guy "As you say, it will take only a few minutes." He turned to me and said "Steve, go with this gentleman and do as he says."

"Oh come, come, sir! Surely you'll want to watch your boy in action? My bitch is not unattractive, and most slave owners would want to see a boy like yours perform."

I could see dad thinking that he might be perceived as not being a "proper" slave owner, so he muttered "Of course..." To the other guy.

He led us away from the parking lot to picnic area, told his bitch to lie on one of the picnic tables, and told me to get stuck in. I didn't bother to take off my T, just dropped my shorts, stroked my dick to get it hard, and went over to the bitch. She wore only a short tunic which I pushed up to expose her, then simply fucked her - she must have bee turned on by me as she was nicely wet even before I started.

As I stood there "mechanically" fucking her and not really interested, I thought about how strange it was that here I was, fucking an attractive bitch, and that at one time that would have been the height of my ambition for the day, to get inside a girl's pants. But now that I was actually doing it, it was, frankly, boring: I was glad when my body's normal reactions took over and I could shoot my load into her.

Afterwards I walked back to the car carrying my shorts as my dick was all slimed up from her juices and my cum, and I did not want to have to spend the rest of the time in stained shorts. Some of the other folk in the parking lot just stared, and a group of college boys gave a big cheer as I went past, but I ignored it all - I had, after all, appeared in front of people nude so often now that it no longer mattered to me.

Back at the car I used toilet tissue to wipe my dick, then dressed. I saw dad take a forty new dollar bill from the guy, and then he came and sat in the car and told me to drive off. He was smiling faintly, and said "Well, Stephen, I never thought I'd earn money from you like that!"

He saw I was silent, uncaring, and went on "Look, son, I'm proud of you - a man likes to think his son enjoys sex, proper sex, that is. When your previous owner told me about the way that you and this Jeff had been carrying on, I was very worried in case I'd got a fag for a son. But you've set my mind at rest - not a lot of men could have fucked that bitch so hard, and so diligently."

"Sir... Dad... Sir.... You've got it all wrong. I fucked the bitch as I'm a stud. That's what I do. Anyone can fuck a bitch. But I didn't enjoy it, not one little bit. I got no excitement from it at all. But when I fuck Jeff, or Jeff fucks me, that's different: man on man sex IS the real thing, sir... It's thrilling ,exciting, totally erotic, a complete turn on... That's what I want to do, dad, and that's all I want to do."

End Of Part Thirteen