Novice Slaveowner

Part 5

The autumn term was about to begin and the student population trickling back to town. The number of participants at the barbecue parties on Friday grew as my tenants took up residence. I'd been down there a couple of times, not to join the meals, I'm no fan of half cooked, charred steak, but to share a bottle of wine or two. As Jane had told me, most of the tenants were students, with a few junior lecturers thrown in. They were generally a pleasant lot, fairly well off, since they, or their parents, could afford the rent, and all of them kept at least one slave.

That Friday there were far more than the usual dozen down there, rather about thirty. Their slaves were milling around, tending to the three barbecues and serving at the tables set up on the lawn. I heard talking and laughing, while enjoying my own dinner and decided to join the fun. When I came down, with Tim in attendance, they'd finished dinner and were sitting in smaller groups around the pool, most of the men nursing beer and the girls white wine. Charlie jumped up to introduce me to those of the party I hadn't met before and then asked me to join Jane and him and two of the newcomers, a handsome couple, Paul and Paula, quite obviously twins. They had naked slaves trussed up to serve as footstools; the young man a girl and his sister a boy. He saw me looking curiously at them and confirmed my guess. "Yes they are, twins I mean. Paula and I thought it fun to have another pair like us, and we know how close you get, don't we, Sis?" "Sure, and they're so grateful to be allowed serving together, aren't you?" She moved a shapely bare foot down in front of the boy, who pressed his lips to it and then looked up with a strained smile. "Yes, Miss Paula". "You share a flat?" "We share everything, have done so since our cradle, though not a bed nowadays, at least not when sleeping". I must have looked shocked, because Paula laughed. "Not quite what you think, John, but we play our slaves together, the girl licks me and the boy sucks Paul before we switch to plunge in and on. Great fun". She smiled sweetly. "We really have no secrets and nothing to hide". "And our slaves just love it, don't you?" The slavegirl had her wrists cuffed to her ankles and her arse towards her master, who was resting his bare feet on the soft flesh. He dug one of them between her thighs to rub against her sex. A shiver ran through the naked body. "Don't you?", he persisted. "Yes, Sir", she moaned and jumped as far as her bondage allowed, when his big toe apparently found her clit. "Yeah, always horny, those two. That's what got them in trouble. Found in a sixty-nine on the beach one night, ten years for indecent and incestuous behaviour in public". The slavegirl was breathing hard and cried out softly. "But so lucky to be bought by a caring and understanding master and mistress". Paul chuckled and turned to wave his soiled foot at the slaveboy, who dutifully licked it clean of his sister's juices. "Who allow them all the incestuous behaviour they may wish for. You ought to see them rolling on the floor, fucking like rabbits, heats one up no end, and they have the most fantastic arseholes, tight as gloves and completely identical".

Jane shook her head and sent me an embarrassed smile. "Please excuse them, John, they're always like that, but fun to be with, once you've grown used to their antics". "Yeah, sorry if we're shocking you, but we don't consider sex indecent or shameful, something to suppress". Paula winked seductively at me. "It's wonderful, I can't get enough of it". "Will you lay off him!" Jane hissed angrily. "You saw him first, you mean?" "I did, but that's not the point. You're wasting your talents, dear". "Oh!" Paula glanced at Tim and smiled sweetly. "Well, OK, sorry. Can't blame a girl for trying". "May I offer you something else. A glass of champagne perhaps?" I returned the smile. "That'd be great, and no hard feelings?" "None, and you?" I turned to her brother and Charlie. "Beer, thanks, and please take no notice of my crazy sister". "Impossible and unfair!" I sent Tim for the drinks and Paul kicked his slavegirl's arse gently. "I've got to make room for another beer". "Yes, Sir". She wriggled around on her knees, gasping with the strain in her cramped limbs, and managed to get her head between his legs, while he quite unperturbed asked me how I liked the town. Her teeth drew down his zipper and she nuzzled with her nose until she at last could get her lips around his flaccid cock and drag it out. "Aah!". Paul sighed while her throat worked frantically. I looked at the others, but neither his sister, nor Jane or Charlie seemed to take any notice of the humiliation of the poor girl. "Is that normal?" I asked. "What?" Jane looked puzzled. "That!" I nodded at the scene. "Well, I guess it is". "In public?" "Not in the middle of the street, but discreetly, like this, sitting at a café table, on a park bench, yes, many people do that. Men of course, another unfair discrimination of women". "Not true, darling", Charlie interrupted, "Some girls do it too, but of course you'd have to wear a skirt". "And no panties, that's what you'd like, isn't it, Romeo?" He grinned. "Not your piss, darling, but I wouldn't mind doing something else under your skirt". She shook her head. "No more drinks for that guy, but he's right, it does happen". "In your bed, for example. She hates getting up, so Toby's there every morning, with a glass of juice and his mouth ready. Some sight, I tell you".

I thought it disgusting, but refrained from comment when Tim came back to serve drinks. The twins released their slaves to let them kneel beside their chairs. Jane and Charlie had a girl and a boy with them, I hadn't seen before. They were in shorts and T-shirts, but I noticed that many of the other slaves were naked like Paul's and Paula's. We talked about the coming term, and the twins, who were studying business administration, sharing even that, were very much looking forward to a series of lectures on investment by a number of younger bankers and stockbrokers. "Those kids can really teach you a thing or two". Paul's eyes gleamed. 'Well, why not?', I thought. My father had never pressed me to take an interest in his business, but it might please him if I one day could tell him something he didn't know. 'Not very likely, but why not try?' I'd already planned to attend another series, with politicians and experts from all over the world, and following two would take up much of my time, delaying my own work. 'But Fred can do the initial research for me, can't he, and enjoy it too'.

Disregarding their obsession with sex, Paul and Paula turned out to be very charming and full of fun, so I grew to enjoy their company. Some of the other tenants came over; mostly to tell how satisfied they were with their flats and the facilities the place had to offer. One of the young men remarked that he'd noticed strangers using tennis-court and swimmingpool, one of them apparently a slave, something he found unusual. I told him that Dan was a friend of mine, who had free access at any time, and that if he wanted his slave as a tennis partner and allowed him to cool off in the pool afterwards, he had my blessings. A girl complained that the slaves, who were renovating the garden cottage, had refused to wash her car. That gave me an opportunity to make it known that the boys were free employees of mine and, although expected to treat my tenants with proper respect, not obliged to take orders from them. "You could try asking how much they charge for a car wash. I'm sure they'll do a good job". She looked startled and mumbled something about borrowing her neighbour's boy.

I was contemplating leaving the party, which was becoming a bit noisy, when loud laughter at the other side of the pool caught my attention. Two naked slavegirls were tied across a couple of small tables, arses high and ankles lashed to table legs. A third, likewise naked girl was tied kneeling upright against a pole. "What's going on?" Charlie sent a disgusted look at the scene. "Preparations for a slaverace, time we leave". "A slaverace, what's that?" "Drunken 'fun', for the masters and mistresses that is. They send the slaveboys for a run a number of times around the building. The losers, usually the last three, are paddled or whipped, the winners, another three, are 'rewarded' with a free fuck of the two girls, arse and cunt, or a blowjob from the third". "Out here, for all to see?" "Disgusting!", Jane spat, "And so humiliating for the slaves, who haven't any choice but to obey". I rose and Tim jumped up to follow, when I happened to look at Charlie's slave, a younger version of himself, and Paul's, who was slender, but seemed wiry, with very long legs, and got an idea. "Why don't we enter our boys for the race?" Jane gave me a sour look. "You can't mean that!" "Yes I can, but let's try changing the 'fun' a bit". I explained and the four others readily agreed when they grasped my idea.

The slaveboys were running naked, of course, and had their hands tied behind their backs. Their owners took up positions along the gravel path, where they could 'encourage' their slaves with a whip as they came by. The race was ten rounds and our three boys nodded and grinned, when told what was expected of them, while we tied their hands. Actually it was great watching the about thirty naked youngsters running all out to avoid the threatened punishment, though the pleasure was somewhat spoiled by the row of drunken men who were shouting and lashing at bare thighs and arses, as they flashed by. Our boys kept to the middle of the field during the first seven rounds and Tim sent me a smile every time he went by. On the eighth they'd advanced towards the front, and when they passed again were running three abreast a couple of yards in front of the others. They won, of course, as I'd expected, and weren't even exhausted when they finished by dropping to their knees in front of us. Some of the other contestants were gasping for breath and rolling on the lawn with stomach cramps. "Hey!", the most rowdy guy of the party shouted, "Your boy won, landlord. He gets to fuck the arse, gonna be a fine show when that black pole splits her and she's screaming her head off". He laughed nastily and pointed out one of the tied girls, a petite, almost skinny teen. "Perhaps", I answered coolly, nudging Tim with my foot, "Eager to claim your price, are you?" He looked up with a knowing grin. "If it please you, Sir" "But will it please you?" "No, Sir". "Why not, she looks like a fine fuck, and you haven't had a girl since I bought you". "Don't want to hurt her, Sir". "Hey!", the drunkard shouted, "What's this? You just do as told, slave!" He stumbled closer, raising his whip, but Charlie caught his wrist in a firm grasp. "Lay off, buddy, don't damage John's property". "But he's spoiling the show!" He wrestled free. "OK, then your boy takes the two of them". "I don't think he'd like that?" His slave shook no. "And neither will mine", Paul added. "Aahrg, what's this? Three slave-loving prigs!" The man was furious and some of his friends tried to calm him down. "Indeed and no proper company for you", I answered, icily, "So you'd better find somewhere else to stay, haven't you?" "What?" "You heard me. The estate manager will deliver notice tomorrow". I indicated a slight bow to the rest of the now silent party and left, followed by the twins, Charlie and Jane and our slaves. "That was a fine thing, you did there, John", Paula told me, "He's always been such a nuisance. Our Fridays will be much better without him as a self-proclaimed leader".

I washed Tim in the shower. He mumbled a protest when I took the soap from him and began lathering up his sweaty hide. To feel up the hot muscles in his strong back, the hard flat stomach and the long, wiry thighs was sheer delight, and the slaveboy moaned softly when my hands caressed his cock and balls and went between his damp arsecheeks. "Nice, huh?" "Yessir, but you shouldn't...". "Why not?" I squeezed his ballsack gently and pressed a finger up his hole. "Who owns this body?" "You do, Sir, aargh! Please, Sir, I...". "Don't you dare!" "No, Sir". He clenched his jaws in an attempt to restrain himself, but his long cock was hard as a board and banging against his stomach. "So if its owner wants to enjoy his property, a slaveboy doesn't tell him to stop, does he?" "No, Sir", he hissed. I found his prostate and massaged it gently. "Siir!" My other hand grabbed his cock. "Very well, you may come, since you can't restrain yourself". I gave the stiff member a few hard strokes and felt it convulsing before four long spurts of sperm hit the shower wall. Tim's legs gave way and he sank to his knees under the still streaming water, breathing heavily. "Gawd! Thanks, Sir, thanks". His mouth was pressed to my feet and a hot tongue licked them reverently. "You deserved it, now I've deprived you of an opportunity to fuck a girl. But then it's not too late, is it. Would you like a go at Christine?" His head jerked up and he stared at me in alarm. "No, Sir!" "No?" I asked mildly. The head sank down again and he swallowed hard. "If it please you, Sir". "But it wouldn't please you?" "No, Sir". "Why not, you wouldn't have to hurt her?" "She's like me sister, Sir". "You get on well together?" "Sure, Sir". Clearly relieved when he understood that I had no intention of forcing him, he rose to begin soaping me up.

When I next morning passed the reception hall on my way to visit the wine merchant with Fred, the abusive tenant accosted me. He'd apparently already been presented with a two weeks notice and was fuming with rage, but at first tried pleading that I was being unfair, that he'd been drunk last night and had no intention of insulting me. There was no apology, though, and I coolly told him that I didn't like the way he behaved and frankly didn't want him as my tenant. That made him blow a fuse and tell me what a prig I was, that I was already well known in town as a slave-lover, that I wasn't welcome and ought to get out fast, and if not, he had friends in the police department, who'd make life very difficult for me. With that he stormed off and I was having second thoughts. He could very well be right, police harassment wasn't unknown and I'd already antagonised two officers. Fred seemed to read my mind and coughed discreetly. "Excuse me, Sir. I don't think the gentleman will have any luck, if he tries to carry out that threat". "Why not, he seemed very certain?" "The chief of police is Chris' uncle, Sir". "And so?" "Chris' family is very grateful that she has such a kind master, Sir". 'Her mother perhaps', I thought, 'But hardly a policeman, who'll have any reason to wash his hands of a niece enslaved for a criminal offence, and all that has to do with her'.

As the tenants had noticed, Dan came over most days for a couple of hard games, mostly with Steve as his partner, but sometimes bringing a friend. He didn't come up to the penthouse uninvited, but I'd told Reception to inform us when he arrived and one of my slaves went down with drinks and snacks, and often an invitation for lunch. It angered me to see the state of Steve's back and arse, always covered in fresh red welts, but the two boys seemed to get on well together, and at least the slave gained some respite when sent to join mine for lunch and a friendly talk in the kitchen. It angered me even more, when I began attending lectures and saw how some of the students treated their slaves. Not all, but the majority brought their own, and the lecture theatres were built to accommodate that, with room for slaves to kneel under the tables, beside the chairs or to stand behind their masters or mistresses. Most of them were treated decently; some even seemed on friendly terms with their young owners. I especially noticed that a few of the girls, who had male slaves, were very affectionate, allowing them to sit on the floor and often stealing down a hand to play with a lock of hair or receive a lingering kiss. 'Well, well, slaves have many uses', I thought. Most relationships were like mine, friendly, but businesslike, both parties knowing their place and acting accordingly, but especially one group of undergraduates was pure sadists.

Of course Harry Allen was one of the worst and appeared to be leader of the ten other young men and a girl. Common among them they kept their slaves practically naked. Most of the others followed the normal dress code, a pair of shorts, a T-shirt for the girls, often for the boys as well; some were allowed jeans or even a skirt. The 'ugly dozen', as I privately named them, kept their boys in tight jockstraps, the girls in a diminutive string bikini bottom, no shirts and always with their ankles hobbled by a short chain, sometimes their wrists chained as well. Of course it wasn't enough that they followed the customary two steps behind their owners, they were led around on a leash to their collars, or even crawling on all fours. It was a pitiful sight to see Julie scurrying after her former boyfriend like a dog, her ample breasts swinging and long, fair hair almost sweeping the floor. But that was only part of the routine cruelty. Weights or chains attached to their nipple rings seemed to be standard and when they had to kneel, it wasn't even reasonably comfortably resting on their heels, but upright, hands clasped behind their necks and toes pressed to the floor. Standing wasn't much better, ramrod straight, feet spread, hands behind neck, elbows back, chest thrust out. Only when they were used as footstools did the slaves gain a bit of respite, but, innovative as he was, Harry had found new ways of humiliating his girl. Not satisfied with the usual position, he made her sit cross-legged on the floor with her back to him and his legs resting on her shoulders, and ordered her to take off his shoes and socks to lick the sweaty feet. Or she was on her back under his chair, conveniently positioned to let him rest his feet on her bare breasts. I don't have to add that the slaves' bodies always bore witness to recent punishments. It seemed an unspoken code of conduct that whippings or canings would only take place in private, but that a public spanking was acceptable. So her former classmates had ample opportunity to study Julie's red arsecheeks when Harry took her over his knees and smacked them resoundingly.

He was very friendly, diffident even, when we met, and proudly introduced me to his circle of friends, especially his current girlfriend, a rather plain, plump girl with bleached hair and too much make-up. The other boys were all nerdy types, who didn't look as if they wasted much time on sport, whereas their slaveboys seemed carefully chosen for their athletic bodies. Obviously their masters got a kick out of humiliating and tormenting boys, who under other circumstances would be looking at them with disdain. Perhaps they had, they could very well be former schoolmates, just like Harry and Julie. The girl had made a similar choice, a long legged black beauty, whose finely chiselled face was only made even more attractive by her shaven scull, something I guessed her bitchy owner hadn't done out of kindness.

It was disgusting to watch and most of their fellow students avoided the gang, but some seemed to be courting them, laughing at their silly jokes, copying their manners, seeking their advice. Probably because the brutes were rich, I guessed. Harry tried the same, courting me, and I had to keep myself in check, just acted very cool and postgraduate-like to keep him at bay. He had the cheek to comment that I was very lenient towards Fred, who accompanied me at some of the lectures. I brushed him off with a remark that I'd gained my own experiences as a slave-owner and was very satisfied with things as they were. Later I was amused to see him send envious glances when Charlie and other senior students came up to chat amiably with a mere slave, while studiously ignoring him and his friends.

The lectures from visiting speakers did interest me, not least those at the business department and my small circle of friends grew, so I soon found myself occupied most of the day. Evenings too, when I entertained guests for dinner a couple of times a week or went out. That didn't leave much time for my studies, but Fred amended that. He was working constantly, from the slaves rose early in the morning to clean and wash before it was time for him to wake me up. We usually talked about my day. I gave my orders and he told if any of the slaves had done something to earn a punishment the previous day. If he was up for one, I usually dealt with it at once, with a paddle or a cane on his arse. Christine came to get orders for lunch and dinner and Fred left to do the necessary shopping, while Tim bathed and dressed me and I ate my breakfast. After that we were off to University, where Fred stayed with me during lectures on politics, taking notes while sitting cross-legged on the floor with a board on his knees, and otherwise worked at the library. If necessary he went back after lunch or else prepared my reading and wrote summaries for me. I suppose he spent most of his evenings on his own thesis after I'd dismissed him.

Not that my other slaves were idle. Now Fred was more or less out of the picture, they had their hands full with keeping everything up to the very high standard, they set themselves. All of my friends envied me and first Jane, then Paula and later a couple of others asked if they could send their slavegirls to learn finer cooking from Christine, something I of course agreed to, partly for my slavegirl's sake. She saw very few people, shut up in the house all day, except the afternoon when her mother would fetch her for a visit. "Fucking girls' school, Sir". Tim grinned, when I asked him how it was with three or four females in the house. "Yabbering away all the time, drives me crazy". "Or horny?" Jane's slavegirl was always just in shorts, Paula's completely naked. "Aw, Sir!" His grin widened. "I could ask for a favour in return". "Sir?" "The loan of one of them as a treat for my good slaveboy". "If it please you, Sir". His face suddenly turned grave. "And they're not your sisters, like Christine". "No, Sir". "But it still wouldn't please you. Why not?" "Cause they're slaves, Sir, ain't got no choice, like rape it'd be". I ruffled his hair. "You're a good boy, Tim". "Try to be, Sir, not hard with you as me master". "And your girlfriend down at the cottage?" My gardeners worked as satisfactorily as did my slaves. The grounds were in perfect order and I heard no complaints from tenants. They'd done a fine job renovating the cottage and proudly showed me around when it was finished. A common room, four small bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom, sparsely, but adequately furnished, a porch and a small secluded garden. I'd hardly noticed them when they came up to have their meals with my slaves, just that they seemed to dress like them, barefoot and in shorts. When asked if they now could fend for themselves, the three boys shuffled their feet and hesitatingly assured me that the kitchen was fine for heating burgers and pizzas, but none of them really knew how to cook. One of them asked if his sister could move in as their housekeeper, at their own expense, of course. I could hardly refuse and earned three relieved smiles, four actually. Tim was positively beaming, not least when I asked if they'd still allow my slave to spend an evening with them every now and then and was told that they liked that very much. Later, when licking my feet before I turned in, he admitted that he did know the girl very well, and when pressed further, that 'they'd made out some' prior to his enslavement.

"You mean I fuck her, Sir, but I can't, that'd be statutory rape. Slaves aren't allowed fucking free women, Sir". "Except when ordered, I assume". "Course, Sir, but...". "If a girl should express a wish to borrow you for shorter periods and asked your owner nicely, I'm inclined to think that he'd grant it". Tim stared. "You mean... Oh, Sir! You're not just the kindest master alive, you're...". I held up my hand. "But she has to ask and assure me that this won't cause any trouble with her brother or the other boys". "Course not, Sir. We've been... I mean...". "Lovers for some time". He nodded mutely and bowed over my feet again, covering them in kisses. "Good. I'll be expecting a visit then, but just now we have some unfinished business". He regained control and looked up with a beaming smile. "Yessir, what do you want to do to me?" "Any suggestions?" He hesitated. "You ain't hit me crack more'n once, Sir, makes the fucking very hot". "So I've been told, but it seems unnecessarily cruel to me". "Does hurt some, Sir, but I can take it". He jumped up to fetch a short cane for me and then knelt on the edge of the bed, spread his legs and reached back to force his arsecheeks apart. I looked at his by now familiar, but always tempting hole. "I don't know. How many can you take?" "As many as you like, Sir, but least twenty. Got to heat me up real good, Sir". "And I won't have to tie you?" "If you like, Sir, but I can take it". "Very well". I flicked the cane and hit the inside of his left buttock. "One, Sir. Thanks, Sir". "Too hard?" "Nah, Sir, mebbe a bit too soft". I swung again and hit the other side. "Two, Sir. Thanks, Sir". The third stroke fell precisely along the sensitive skin of the crack and Tim jumped, but continued his calm counting. My cock stirred and I swung down with gusto. After the tenth stroke, the tortured slave's voice became strained and his fingers pressed desperately into his flesh, but he remained in position, even when I after fifteen lashes dropped the cane, freed my cock and entered him. "God, you were right, Tim. You've never been so hot and tight". "Tha... Thanks, Sir, augh!" He kept his arse open for me, while I ploughed him slowly, savouring the heat of the striped hide.