Novice Slaveowner

Part 3

The storeroom was exactly that. Bare concrete walls and floor, sixty cages piled three on top of each other in a row along one wall, only just big enough for a human being to lie down on a thin vinyl mattress. Along the other wall were the usual showerheads over open drains. Three bare bulbs in the ceiling spread a feeble light in the windowless room. Without any ventilation, the air was stifling hot and putrid with the stench of sweat, human waste and cheap disinfectant. "Good Lord!", I mumbled, shocked, "This is even worse than that horrible room upstairs". Fred didn't answer. "But not uncommon, I suppose?" "No, Sir". Shuddering with disgust I left hastily. In contrast, the punishment room was bright and airy, though not exactly cosy. Tiled floor and walls, fluorescent lightning and air conditioning. Rows of punishment instruments were hanging neatly on the wall and six sets of shackles from the ceiling. Three tiny cages, of the same type I'd already seen at the Allens' house, were lined up on the floor beside three sets of elaborate stocks, in which a victim could be restrained in numerous positions. To my surprise, the room was in use. A young woman was vigorously paddling the bare arse of a teenage boy, bent over and locked into one of the sets of stocks. "Twelve, thank you, Miss", he gasped, when yet another stroke made his flaming red buttocks dance.

She stopped the next in mid-air and turned when she heard us entering. "Hullo there, you must be our mysterious landlord. I'm Jane Thompson". Her face lit up in an enchanting smile and she offered a well-manicured hand. "John Marshall, pleased to meet you, but why mysterious?" "Well, maybe that's exaggerating it a bit, but we haven't seen much of you yet". "Just moved in". "Argh, two weeks ago! Why haven't you joined one of our little get-togethers on Friday?" I'd seen people down at a barbecue area in the grounds, but thought it to be a private party. "Thank you, I'll be happy to". "Fine. You're here to study, aren't you? Most of us are at Uni too". "Yes, I've planned a thesis on French/American relations after 1945". "Sounds interesting. I'm in art history myself, but I can see that you come well prepared". "What makes you think so?" "You've bought Fred, haven't you. Brightest undergrad head in the politics department until he got himself enslaved". She nodded at the slave, who knelt quietly just inside the door. "Shame, really, great guy, everybody liked him". She grinned. "As a matter of fact I dated him for a while about a year ago, best pussy licker I've ever come across. Perhaps I could borrow him for the night once in a while?" "Eh, I...". She laughed, blushing. "Just joking, or at least only half serious, he really is good, but I suppose you're going to work him hard seeking stuff for your study. He sure knows his way around the library and plays the databases like a pro". "Well, yes, I... I'm very satisfied with him". "Don't doubt it. Fred always does everything better than anyone else, no matter what it is, but of course even he can make mistakes". "None that I've noticed so far". "Oh! I thought you brought him down here for a whipping". "No, I'm just looking the place over". "Pity, I've always dreamt about watching one of my lovers writhing in the chains". She chuckled. "Just joking again, of course". "Of course. Well, nice meeting you, Jane". "My pleasure, and do come down next Friday, will you? Or how about joining me and my neighbour for a drink? Third floor". She smiled again and added hastily. "He's my present boyfriend". "Thank you, I'd like to. I know very few people in this town". "Tonight at seven?" "Yes, please, but perhaps you'd want to see the penthouse?" "Love to, thanks, we'll be there. Charlie's in politics too. I'm always attracted to those serious guys. Actually he replaced Fred in my bed". "What about dinner then? I'd very much like to know more about the department and my fellow students". "An offer one can't refuse, thanks". We shook hands again and she turned to the boy in the stocks. "Where were we, Toby?" "Twelve, Miss Jane", he moaned. "OK, last three". The paddle fell with a resounding smack.

Back in the roof garden Fred sank to his knees beside my chair. "You can let Tim serve tonight, and keep out of sight. I see no reason to humiliate you". "As you wish, Sir, but I won't be humiliated". "Serving your former girlfriend and your rival?" "A slave cannot be humiliated, Sir, and it was bound to happen anyway. In a small town like this a slave cannot avoid meeting some of his former friends". "Perhaps not. Very well, do as you like". "Yes, Sir. May I leave for a moment to tell Chris about dinner?" I waved my hand and he left silently, only to be replaced by Tim. "Want a cup of tea?" His grin was back. "Thanks, Sir". "Or something else?" "A coke, if I may, Sir". "Sure". "Thanks a lot, Sir". He disappeared for a moment to come back with a plastic bottle and kneel again. "Sit". "Thanks, Sir". "Fred just met one of his old friends, how about you?" "Sir?" "Have you met someone you used to know?" "Yeah, Sir, seen 'em around". He grinned hugely. "Fucking envious, they look, Sir. Me driving that fantastic car". "Hardly envying your present position". "Nah, maybe not, but that's how it is, Sir. I'm not the only one of the old gang who's a slave now. That's what happens to guys like us, always get in trouble". "Miss them, your mates?" "Yeah". He sighed. "Take a break, then, when waiting for me by the car and have a talk with your friends if you see them around". "Gee, Sir, thanks a lot! You're just about...". "Tim!" I hadn't heard Fred's soft footsteps. "Oops, sorry, Sir". "What were you about to say?" "Only that you're just about the best master I ever heard of, Sir. Excuse me, Sir. Sir". "Thank you". I smiled evilly. "I expect you to change your mind when I tie you up tonight, whip your arse and fuck it". "No, Sir". "You like being whipped and arsefucked?" "Nah, Sir, not supposed to, am I, being slave, but that won't make me change me mind, Sir". "We'll see about that". I waved him away and told Fred to take his place.

"You heard that. I'll have sex with you from now on". "Yes, Sir". "You and Tim that is". "Yes, Sir. You won't want Chris?" "Perhaps later, but not while she's still new to this and scared out of her wits". "No, Sir". He looked up. "Tim's right, Sir". "Perhaps. How far had you come with your studies?" "To my graduation thesis, Sir". "What subject?" "Nearly the same as yours, Sir. Only it was Germany, not France, and limited to the 1960'es". "Really! Jane was right then. You can help me searching for sources and literature?" "I'll do my best, Sir". "And slaves are allowed to use the library?" "To serve their masters, yes, Sir". "Good. I'll probably use you for sparring. Two clever heads are better than one". "Thank you, Sir".

"Back to the present. As of today, Christine will have to work harder". "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry...". "Making breakfast, lunch and dinner for four". "Yes, Sir". "Perhaps not the same for all, but proper meals for you and something you like". "Yes, Sir. Thank you very much, Sir". "Slaves can have all the tea, coffee and soft drinks they need". "Thank you, Sir". "Slaves will from now on have time to relax. The two of you not serving me can spend their evenings as they wish". "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir". "For what?" "Your kindness, Sir". "So you're looking forward to free evenings in your cosy room?" "If you allow us, we could stay in the kitchen, Sir". "I don't". "No, Sir". "Come here". I got up and went to one of the spare rooms. "Store that double bed somewhere. Buy three singles, with good mattresses, sheets, blankets, pillows, perhaps screens to allow you a bit of privacy. Leave the rest of the furniture". Fred stared around the pleasant room, the thick carpet, the two armchairs, the desk, the TV. "Yes, Sir. I...Yes, Sir", he stammered. "Move in here at once. You boys can sleep on the floor tonight". "Yes, Sir". "And stop chaining yourself up at night". The adjoining bathroom was simple, with just a shower cubicle, lavatory and wash basin, but a paradise compared to what they had now and to what I'd seen in the cellar. "Buy some better clothes. Jeans for the three of you, a couple of skirts, short and long, for Christine, sneakers". "Slaves are not allowed footwear, Sir". "If I order it?" "That's the law, Sir, to mark us as slaves". "Very well, then, but a table and chairs for the kitchen". "Yes, Sir".

The evening turned out very pleasant. I was in the sitting room, when my guests arrived, and heard a deep, masculine voice from the hall. "Hi, Fred. Good to see you, how's things?" "Fine, Sir". "Not too bad, you mean. Bloody shame it is". "This way please, Sir, and Miss Jane". "Hello, Fred". I thought to hear a soft kiss. "Sorry about the teasing. Forget about it, will you?" "Yes, Miss Jane". Charlie was almost the exact opposite of Fred. At least a head taller, dark hair, broad shoulders and chest, and a hand like a shovel. Jane caught me looking from her petite, slender frame to Fred and then Charlie. She laughed. "Wondering about my change of taste, are you? Sometimes I do so myself. Fred was the perfect roommate, tidy and careful. I couldn't share with Charlie, even for one day. You can't imagine the mess that man can create within two minutes. Luckily he got the flat beside mine". "So Fred and you have been living together?" "For about seven blissful months until we grew apart and parted, amiably. We're still friends, aren't we, Fred?" "If it may please you, Miss Jane". I ushered my guests to the roof garden and he brought a tray of drinks. "Chablis, Miss Jane?" "Perfect". Charlie had a beer and I my usual vodka martini. They'd brought the slaveboy, I'd seen punished in the cellar, with them. He was stark naked and his ankles were hobbled with a short chain. Jane saw me looking at him kneeling beside her, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. "Couldn't leave him and I don't like locking them up in the cages", she explained, "Can't keep his hands, not to mention other parts of his body off my slavegirl". "Was that why you spanked him?" "No, that was because he dropped a plate when washing up. I don't deny them a bit of petting, not much fun in their lives, but he's not allowed fucking her and I don't trust him not to get carried away. Normally I keep her locked, but she has her period and it's such a bother when she comes running to be unlocked all the time". "Locked?" "She has rings in her labia lips, easy to padlock". "Really! Is that common? And allowed?" "Allowed, yes. Piercing is not mutilation, the holes heal up if the rings are removed. Common? I don't know, but it's for her sake and I don't think she minds at all". "No, I meant, slaves allowed to, eh...". "To have sex with each other. No, I don't think many masters allow that, rather the opposite, but don't understand why. A happy slave is a better slave".

"Sorry about all these questions, but I'm new to this". "Ask all you want, but Charlie and I are not very typical slaveowners. Both of us were brought up in homes where slaves are treated decently". "But you do punish them?" "Of course, if they deserve it. What else can you do if not satisfied? Besides, some slaves need it". She glanced at the naked boy. "Some are perfect, willing and careful, others try cutting corners or get sloppy if not kept on their toes. If their master's not a sadistic bastard, it's mostly their own fault if they're punished. Toby here gets his arse warmed or his back striped frequently, but I don't think I've punished my girl for, oh, I don't know, more than a month". "Me neither", Charlie added, "It's bad enough for them as it is, no need to humiliate them further by spanking them like naughty children. If my boy needs a reminder, I tie him up painfully or lock him in a cage, but very rarely". "But you do keep slaves?" "Of course and I won't deny that I enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with the system as such, it's better for them to be out working among other people than locked up in a prison, especially the teenagers, and many of them do need to be put back on the right track. But two things are wrong, very wrong. One, that there's no control of slaveowners. They should be vetted before being allowed to keep slaves and their slaves inspected frequently to ensure that they're not abused. Two, that it's mostly girls and boys from poor families, who're sentenced to slavery for petty offences". "So the judges are unfair?" "I can't prove it, but it seems so to me. Not when it's real crimes, shoplifting, drug dealing or things like that, but when rich youngsters generally make a nuisance of themselves, are drunk and disorderly, vandalise public property, they're let go with a warning. Poorer kids get five years as slaves".

Fred came out to announce that dinner was ready. I'd grown used to Christine's perfect meals, but my guests marvelled over the lobster soufflé, asked if I'd hired a professional cook for the occasion and was surprised when I called for the teenage slavegirl. She stood blushing, while they praised her skills, not so much because of that, I thought, rather under Charlie's admiring scrutiny of her half naked body. "Delicious!" He grinned to me and Jane slapped his arm. "Not for you, darling!" "What! No more food for a poor hungry guy?" "You know what I mean!" I dismissed Christine and Tim came out to serve the roast duck. Now it was my lady guest, who had trouble averting her eyes from the magnificent black body. I'd ordered Fred to put on a T-shirt, but Tim was in shorts only. "Uh, huh!" Charlie shook his head sadly.

When cheese was served, Jane looked down at her slaveboy. "Could Toby have a bowl of slave chow? I forgot to feed him". "No he can't. Slaves don't eat chow here, and that reminds me". I turned to the slave behind my chair. "You may leave for your own dinner, Fred. Tim can manage". He'd stayed with us throughout the meal, supervising the younger slave and serving the wines. "Thank you, Sir". "What'll you have?" "Vegetable soup and lamb stew, Sir". "Can you allow your slave that, Jane?" "Well, I don't know if he deserves it, but OK. Run off, Toby". "Yes, Miss Jane. Thanks, Miss". He kissed her shoes and followed Fred inside. "A happy slave is a better slave", I reminded my guest. "As I just said, yes. Perhaps I should try feeding them better, never really thought about it. Everybody gives their slaves chow, it's easier, and good for them". "For their health, but so boring. You're right there, John, why deny them decent food?", Charlie added. When we rose for coffee, he asked if I could allow Fred to join us, to let him pick his brain, and I readily agreed. That gave me the first opportunity to spend time with my slave on almost equal terms and I decided that it wouldn't be the last. He was on the floor, we in easy chairs by the poolside, had his coffee in a mug, not cups like us, but nevertheless managed to partake in our conversation as an equal, yet unfailingly polite, never overstepping the line between slave and free persons. The three of them told me about town and university, teachers and students, and Charlie, Fred and I discussed mutual subjects. It was puzzling how they could act so freely, friends once, lovers even, and now slave and free, but it didn't seem to bother them. 'Decent people can handle slavery without degrading neither themselves nor the unlucky', I thought.

It was late when we parted. I'd dismissed Christine and Tim to enjoy their first free evening since they became slaves and Toby was curled up at his mistress' feet, half asleep. "A very pleasant evening". Fred had hurriedly cleared away while I saw my guests out. "Can I bring you anything, Sir?" "No, I think I'll go to bed". "Yes, Sir. Shall I call Tim?" "No, let him sleep". "Yes, Sir". He followed me to the bedroom to help me undress and was a few moments later on his knees in front of my chair, licking and rubbing my feet. Finished, he looked up. "Would you want me to suck you off, Sir?" I hesitated, uncertain if this was how I wished to end the day. "No, I think I'll like to try fucking you". "Yes, Sir. How do you want me?" He rose to drag off his shirt and shorts. "You were trained for this, show me how good you are". I opened my legs. "Yes, Sir". Back on his knees he let his tongue slide slowly from the top of my left foot, up the shin and along the inside of my thigh to reach my ballsack. The hot tongue touched it only briefly before it went down the other leg to end up on my right foot. "May I raise your legs, Sir?" "Go ahead". He grabbed my ankles, placed my heels on the edge of the chair and bent over my crotch. Now the sack was washed thoroughly, the nuts sucked into his mouth one by one and massaged gently by an adept tongue. My cock stood up, stiff and pulsating, waving in his face, but was ignored when he traced his way down the sensitive area below the sack to reach my arsehole. I jumped with surprise. No one had ever touched me there, at least not since I was a small kid. He licked around the puckered hole and suddenly stabbed into it. That almost brought me over the edge. My cock twitched and I felt the juices rising, but he knew what he was doing, raised his head abruptly, swallowed me and closed his lips around the base of my cock, preventing the imminent explosion. "God!", I moaned. "Please, Sir". He rose and dragged me with him, turned to kneel on the edge of the bed and reached back to open his arse. The brown hole winked at me and I didn't hesitate to bury my throbbing piece of meat in it. "God!", I moaned again. Only once had I felt something remotely similar, when a half drunken girl had challenged me to try her arse. That had hardly been a pleasure, it hurt, both of us. This was heaven, so hot and narrow, yet smooth like a young girl's breasts. I pumped, slowly, trying to prolong the pleasure and felt his muscles contracting around me. Another thrust and I had to give in, buried myself to the hilt and with a shout of joy spurted deeply into his bowels, again and again and again. There seemed no end to my juices, never had I come as much, as long and as hard when I at last collapsed on his back, barely conscious.

He stayed motionless while I lay panting, slowly regaining my breath. After what seemed like hours, I was finally able to rise on trembling legs, extricating my spent tool with a soft plop. A steady stream of sperm and arsejuices ran down the inside of his thighs, but was ignored when he quickly rose and turned to steady me, gently lowering my body to the bed, then knelt to lick and suck my soiled cock clean. I protested feebly and he left for a moment, only to come back with a glass of cool wine, offering it on his knees. "That was fantastic!" "Thank you, Sir". I sat up and he arranged the pillows behind my back. "But you're not gay! You can't be if you've been living with that chick?" "I'm your slave, Sir, here to serve and please you". "As you most certainly do, but if not gay, where did you learn how to please a man?" "At slave training, Sir. We were taught how to serve our future masters or mistresses in every conceivable way". I took a sip of my wine and thrust the glass at him. "Have a taste". "Thank you, Sir". "You practised on each other?" "Yes, Sir" "On girls too?" "Yes, Sir". He'd hardly touched the wine, when offering it to me again. "So Christine has been trained as well, very thoroughly in fact". "Yes, Sir". "You were in training together?" "Yes, Sir". "Have you, eh, had her?" He looked calmly at me. "I've assisted in preparing Chris for her duties as a slavegirl, Sir". "Fucked her, you mean?" "We've practised vaginal and rectal penetration together, Sir". "Was it good?" "It was...clinical, Sir. Fifty female and fifty male slaves on a row of mattresses performing different sexual acts together under the supervision and guidance of experienced prostitutes, changing partners after each act". "Male/female, female/female and male/male sex?" "Yes, Sir". "Advanced too. Bondage and such?" "Yes, Sir". "So Christine were fucked by several boys there and had sex with other girls". "Yes, Sir". "I do wonder why she's so shy then". "It was very stressful for the slavegirls, Sir". "Of course, yes, it must have been. What a stupid way to train a girl, scaring her off the pleasures of sex, for life perhaps". "A slave pleases her master, not herself, Sir". "Of course, but how can a frightened girl offer any pleasure?" "Not all masters are as considerate as you, Sir". 'True, and I've met more than one of them', I thought. "But you were not scared". "I'm a grown man, Sir". "And Tim?" "Sir?" "He's two years younger than Christine". "It would take a lot more to scare Tim, Sir. He's been living on the streets since he was fifteen, practically banned from home by his mother's new boyfriend". "Really? But he was apprenticed to a mechanic?" "Tim's determined to have a good life, Sir". "Not much hope for that after twelve years as a slave". "Perhaps not, Sir, but he'll only be about thirty, when he's free again, and a slave can learn a lot, if he has a good master". "Like me?" "Yes, Sir".