Novice Slaveowner

Part 4

Dan turned up the next morning as agreed. Steve was waiting on his knees when we came down to the tennis courts. A short chain hobbled the tall slave's ankles and his back sported a tight pattern of fresh red lines. I've always liked tennis and enjoyed myself thoroughly, even if Dan beat me in five hard sets. "Whew!" I wiped sweat from my brow before Steve could reach me with the fresh towel he had ready for us after each set. "You have a nasty backstroke". Dan grinned. "How about a return match?" "Some other day. I'm an old man". "Sure, sure, but do you mind if I play another? Steve's a great player". "I thought it was football". "He played tennis to keep in shape. Feet, Steve". "Yes, Master Daniel". He dropped to his stomach and raised his legs to let Dan unlock the cuffs. "Something of a bother, but Dad insists that our slaves are shackled whenever leaving the house". I sat down to watch the match. To my delight, Steve beat his master in three straight sets, running effortlessly on the hard gravel in spite of his bare feet. "Mighty sore arse for you tonight, slave!", Dan threatened. "Yes, Master Daniel". The half-naked boy hung his head, but with a smile on his face. He knelt to offer the ankle chain, but his young master shook his head and we went up to the penthouse. I showed my guest and his slave to the second spare room for a shower and went to my own bathroom to let Tim wash me.

Dan was already in the garden when I came out, a barearsed and hobbled Steve at his feet. "Hope you don't mind naked boys. This stupid slave of mine forgot to bring fresh shorts for himself and the sweaty rag he was wearing is just too disgusting". "Not at all. Can I offer you a drink before lunch?" "A coke, please". I didn't have to tell Fred to bring it, along with a glass of cool white wine for me. "He doesn't deserve it, but can Steve have something to eat?" "Of course, he may share with my slaves". Fred ushered him in and a little later told that our lunch was ready. It was as delicious as ever and Dan and I discussed tennis techniques while Fred and Tim took turns serving. Hopefully, I thought, because our slaves were enjoying their own lunch in the kitchen. We were waiting for dessert when Dan looked over my shoulder and abruptly stopped talking. He stared with a stupefied expression on his face, blushing furiously, then shook himself out of his stupor and finished the sentence. A moment later my slavegirl served us hot strawberry pie and offered a bowl of homemade ice cream. He took a helping, without looking up, still blushing. "Perfect as always", I remarked when she was serving me, "What did you have, Christine?" "Thank you, Sir. The same, Sir". She, too, was blushing, staring fixedly at her bare feet. "Good, isn't it, Dan?" "Sure", he mumbled, still without raising his head. "I think you may take that as praise for your excellent cooking, Christine". "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir". She topped up my wineglass and left for a moment to come back with a fresh glass of coke for my guest. This time he managed to stammer his thanks.

"Living in such a small town must be difficult. Most of you seem to know each other". I leaned back, nursing my wine and looking at my young guest. "Yeah". He seemed lost in thought. "Not least when one's friends get in trouble and suddenly are transformed to slaves". He nodded mutely. "And that happens quite often, I've already learned. You and Steve, your brother and his girlfriend, my neighbours and my own slave". "Yeah". "You and Christine?" He shook no. "Don't lie to me, Dan. You know each other, don't you?" He looked away. "Friends, at school perhaps?" "Yes, she, we were classmates, Chris and Steve and I". "Just classmates?" At last he looked me in the eyes, his own brimming with tears. "No, we...dated". "And did more than just holding hands?" "Yes, we... Oh, shit! Why did you have to buy her?" "Actually I didn't, but I do own her. Is that a problem for you?" "No, I...". "Dan, I like you and I'm looking forward to seeing you here again, often. If you don't want Christine around as she is now, I'll sell her, even if she's a marvellous cook". "No, please don't! It's just...". "I haven't used her, for sex, if that's what's bothering you, hardly even touched her". "No, it's not that. She's yours and you can do to her what you like, that's how it is. No, it, I...". He drew a deep breath. "It's my fault". "Her enslavement? But that was for shoplifting. I can't imagine that you forced her to steal". "No, of course not, but when... We only did it once, for real, and when I... undressed her, she was so embarrassed about her underwear. Her family isn't very well off and she... I mean, you couldn't buy one pair of my boxers for what she paid for ten sets of bra and panties, so...". "So she stole to look pretty for you?" "I think so", he whispered. "But that was still her own choice, you didn't tease her about it, did you?" He shook his head. "Of course not, I... I was in love with her. It doesn't, didn't matter how she was dressed. I could've bought her anything, but if I hadn't... pressed her, she wouldn't...". "Do you still love her?" "I... You know I can't!" "But you do?" He nodded mutely again. "Do you want her? I'll happily sell her to you, for a price you can afford". "No! No, absolutely not!" He looked panicked. "Why not? Your brother owns his girlfriend". "I... Because I don't want to". "You don't want her as a slave, but you could make it easier for her, treat her as your girlfriend?" He looked away. "No I couldn't. At our house slaves are slaves and treated... as slaves must be treated. It's bad enough with Steve". "So you prefer that I keep her?" "Yes". He fastened his moist eyes on me again. "Please!"

Just then Steve came back and surprised me by kneeling to kiss my shoes. "Thank you for lunch, Sir". "Enjoyed it?" "Very much, Sir. Chris is a great cook". He crawled to kneel by his master's chair. "Some time since you had real food, what, Steve?" Dan had regained his composure. "Yes, Master Daniel". "Your slaves eat chow?" "Out of dog bowls on the floor, hands clasped behind their backs, if you must know". "Nice, that brother of yours", I remarked dryly. "No he isn't and I've already told you that I don't like the way he treats our slaves". "You did, and I suppose that he's responsible for the stripes on Steve's back". "Yes". "And what did this slave do to earn those?" "Nothing!" "Nothing?" "Harry claims that Steve scratched his balls when sucking them this morning". "Clumsy". "Harry was fucking Julie's arse and ordered Steve to work his balls over when he was up her. Maybe Steve did touch him with his teeth, but it must have been accidentally, with him hammering away on the girl". "I see". "No, you don't!" His eyes flashed angrily. "Harry will never forgive the two of them that she dropped him in favour of a poor scholarship guy, but Steve has only himself to blame. I'll never understand how he could be so stupid". I glanced at the kneeling boy, but he kept his head bowed. "He's guilty of a major crime, but he's my friend. I do try making it easier for him, but what the hell can I do?" I leaned over to squeeze his hand. "Don't blame yourself".

After Dan had left, I spent the remainder of the afternoon reading. My slaves moved quietly around, doing their chores and taking turns to kneel beside my chair. When Fred brought my pre-dinner drink, he asked permission to speak. "I have to report Chris and Tim for punishment, Sir". "So soon! What have they done?" "Chris dropped an egg on the floor while making lunch, Sir, and Tim didn't iron your underwear before stowing it away after washing". "I see, and what kind of punishment do you suggest?" "It was an accident, but Chris should have been more careful, Sir. Ten strokes of the cane on her buttocks, if it may please you. Tim was deliberately lazy, Sir. Thirty lashes with the whip on his back and three days in heavy ankle chains and with weights in his nipple rings, if it may please you". "Quite severe, isn't it?" "You ordered me to suggest punishments, Sir, and that is what I consider appropriate". "What other masters consider appropriate, you mean?" "Some, Sir, others would be harder". "I don't doubt it, but I'm not one of their kind". I thought for a moment. "I don't want to cane Christine. She can serve as my footstool after dinner, naked and chained hand and foot". "Yes, Sir". He looked relieved. "I'll deal with Tim when he sees me to bed. Place some rope, a cane and the foot whip in my bedroom". "Yes, Sir".

I was nursing the last of my wine after dinner when Fred led a naked Christine out to kneel in front of an armchair, made her curl into a ball with her arse towards it, cuffed her wrists behind her thighs and chained her ankles, then fetched my coffee. I emptied my glass, dismissed Fred, kicked off my loafers and sat down in the chair, resting my bare feet on her arse. I resumed reading, but it was hard to concentrate with the tempting globes right in front of my eyes. The girl tried to keep her body immobile, but as time went by, her legs began twisting and her arsecheeks opened to reveal a small rosebud. My cock stirred in my pants and I had to fight an urge to feel her up. After an hour I gave in, closed the book and swung down my feet. "Turn and kneel upright in front of me". She laboured around, grunting with the pain in her cramped limbs, until she was facing me. With her hands cuffed behind her back, her chest was straining towards me and she surprised me by spreading her legs, offering a clear view of the pink, hairless slit. I swallowed hard and took a grip of myself. "Look at me". She raised her head to reveal a pair of frightened eyes.

"Fred tells me that you've been trained to serve me in bed". "Yes, Sir". Her voice was quavering on the verge of breaking into sobs. "Did you enjoy the training?" "No, Sir". "None of it?" "No, Sir". She shuddered. "It was horrible!" "Dan told me that he has fucked you". "Yes, Sir". "Did you enjoy that?" "I...", she lowered her eyes, blushing all over her naked body, "Yes, Sir". "So you can enjoy sex?" "Yes, Sir". "Was he your first?" "Yes, Sir". "It must have hurt then, but you enjoyed it anyway?" "Yes, Sir". "Because you were in love with him?" "Yes, Sir". Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think you'd enjoy sex with me?" "I'm your slave, Sir". "And not supposed to enjoy what you have to do?" "No, Sir". "Has the 'horrible' training scared you away from the pleasures of sex?" "I, eh, I don't know, Sir". Her frightened eyes were brimming with tears. "If I let Dan fuck you, would you enjoy that?" She stared uncomprehendingly at me. "Would you?" "I...Please, Sir. I don't know what to... I, it...Yes, Sir. I think I would". "So you still love him?" "Yes, Sir", she whispered. "Even if it was his fault that you ended up a slave?" "But he had nothing to do with it!". "That's not what he thinks or what he told me". "But it's not true!" "Didn't you steal that underwear in order to please him?" "I, but...". "That's why he blames himself". "I, oh...". She burst into tears, fighting against the handcuffs. I rose abruptly. "Your punishment is over, for now". "Thank you, Sir", she managed to stammer, "I'm sorry, Sir". "Take greater care in the future". "Yes, Sir". I went in to tell Fred to release her and send Tim to my bedroom.

He came running to throw himself at my feet, already naked. "Fred reports that you've been lazy and neglecting your duties". "Yes, Sir". "Why?" "I was down to empty the dryer and iron the stuff, Sir, and I met this old mate of mine. He's been a slave for 'bout a year, but we ain't seen him around, 'cause of his master being away, but now he just moved in here and me mate, he was down to do his laundry and we got talking, sort of, 'bout what's happened and our friends and such...". "And you forgot all about your duties?" "Yeah, Sir, got carried away some and thought I could sort of sneak your boxers down at the bottom of the pile and iron them later, but Fred caught me doing it. No excuse, Sir". "And now you're mad at Fred". He sent me a puzzled look. "Why's that, Sir? He's just doing his duty and he's a great guy". "I'm happy to hear that. Shall we get on with your punishment?" "Yes, Sir, what do you want to do with me?" "Get on the bed, on your back and spread your arms". "Yes, Sir". He placed himself to have his wrists lashed to the bedposts. "Spread your legs". "Yessir". I tied a piece of twine around the base of his cock and balls, ordered him to raise his feet and tied the ends to his big toes. "Comfortable?" "Not much, Sir". He tried to keep his legs still and some slack in the string, but soon had to give in when I began beating the soles of his broad feet with the small whip. "Augh! Oh, shit, ouw!" He waved his legs, tightening the string around his genitals, hissing between his teeth. After fifteen hard lashes on each foot, I lowered the whip. "Learned your lesson?" "Yeah, Sir. Sorry, Sir". "Perhaps". I grabbed the cane and laid a stripe across his buttocks. "One, Sir. Thanks, Sir". Another stripe joined the first. "Two, Sir. Thanks, Sir". His black hide was nicely decorated with clearly raised welts, when he moaned: "Twenty, Sir. Thanks, Sir". I changed position and hit along the gaping crack of his arse. "Aieeh! Ooh, shit!" "Forgot to count, didn't you?" I hit the same spot again. "Ooh, arrgh! Twenty.... Ooh!" "Twenty-two it was". I dropped the cane and tore off my shirt, jeans, and briefs and knelt between his widespread knees. "And now the reward". My aching tool was rammed into his puckered hole and I began mauling him mercilessly. It was heaven, better than anything I'd experienced so far, even better than Fred's arse. The helpless teenage-boy, his burning hide against my thighs, when I slammed into him, his blistered feet waving, his cock and balls turning blue, the feeling of total control, all of it combined to make it a nerve-shattering experience when I erupted into him. "Whew!" I sank back on my haunches, looking into the boy's pleading eyes. His long cock stood stiff and waving. "That was good, Tim". "Thanks, Sir. Happy to serve you", he croaked. I quickly freed his toes and genitals and grabbed the rock-hard tool. "But what about you?" "Sir?" "You didn't enjoy it". "Not supposed to, Sir". "Not even this?" I stroked his cock. "Please, Sir!" "Please, what?" "Please, Sir. I... If you go on like that, I can't hold off". "And why should you?" "Arrgh, shit!", he moaned, biting his lower lip, "Slaves are not allowed to come, Sir". "You are". "Yessir, thanks, Siir, aah!" He gave in and long hot spurts of sperm hit his chest. "Gawd! Thanks, Sir. Ooh!"

I untied his wrists and he rolled on his knees to suck shit and sperm off my cock. "Thanks a million, Sir". He looked up with a genuine expression of gratitude. "For punishing you?" "That too, Sir, but mostly for being such a kind master". "You consider me kind, even after what I've just done to you?" "Course, Sir, me own bloody fault, and you let us eat real food, sleep in a real bed, have a decent room, TV and all, and you allow me to come. Yessir, you can do anything you like to me". "I don't think I have to ask your permission for that". "Course not, Sir, but...". "But you accept it?" "Got to, ain't I, and times I like it, Sir". "You like being whipped?" "Nah, Sir, not just like that, it bloody hurts, but that blockhead me mum ganged up with, he was always beating the shit out of us. Sometimes I got a boner, when he was belting me arse, and had to run off, soon as he was finished, and beat off, so when you whipped me and let me blow me load, that was so great, Sir!" He beamed at me, planted a kiss on my cock and jumped up to run my bath. I allowed him a shower while I was soaking in the tub, earning another beaming smile, before he hurried to change the soiled sheets on my bed and come back to dry me.

I won't say that the relationship between my slaves and me changed radically after that day, but they seemed much more cheerful and content, even if punishments became a regular part of their life. Perhaps because of their better living conditions, perhaps because I was now acting more like a 'proper' master. I seldom found any reason to be dissatisfied, but Fred dutifully reported a number of minor infractions, which he thought warranted a punishment. Tim was often the culprit and did I enjoy striping his hide before fucking him! Perhaps he enjoyed it as well. I sometimes wondered if he made mistakes on purpose. Christine never suffered a beating. I simply couldn't make myself take a cane to her arse, but she 'was' punished, mostly chained up naked as my footstool, sometimes put on display in a set of stocks, an iron bar with four curved spaces to lock on her wrists and ankles. She hated it, just as much as I enjoyed looking at her slim body, forced into cramped positions on her knees or back, bare toes curling with strain and cunt gaping open. Tempting, but I never touched her, actually began wondering about my own sexuality. Up until now I'd considered myself straight, had fucked a number of girls, but after I'd learned to enjoy the two boys' hot mouths and tight arses, it wasn't difficult to resist the teenage girl's charms. It was much more difficult when Tim was trussed up at my feet. Fred didn't spare himself and I had to cane him occasionally for very small offences, but acknowledged his unspoken insistence that he must be treated like his fellows, even if he was as perfect a slave as anyone could wish for. Unlike with Tim, I didn't mix pain and pleasure with Fred. Sex with him was always quiet lovemaking, his tongue teasing my body until I was about to explode and then a long hot fucking of his arse.

The offences were mostly minimal and called for minimal punishments, if you name ten hard lashes with a cane across your arse minimal, but a few times I had to be harder. The first occasion was when Fred stumbled and dropped my lunch on one of the Persian carpets. It was an accident, but he quietly insisted that it had to be punished severely, at least with a whipping of his back. I didn't want to do it in front of the others, so I took him down to the cellar and had just strung him up when Jane entered with the hapless Toby in tow. "Hello again!" She looked startled at her former lover's naked body, painfully stretched on tiptoe. "We can't go on meeting like this". She grinned and dragged her slaveboy towards the stocks. I looked apologetically at Fred, but apparently he was quite unperturbed by the encounter. Jane finished strapping down her boy and turned to the display of whips and paddles hanging neatly on the wall. "Do you know how to use that?" She looked at the heavy whip in my hand. "Ah, not exactly. I've only used canes so far, and I had some experience with those". I grinned a bit sheepishly. "Then use this instead". She handed me a flogger with ten thin suede tails. "It stings like hell, but doesn't draw blood. You have to practice with that whip before using it or risk damaging the slave seriously". "Thanks". I took a practice swing. "Not like that". Jane grabbed the flogger with her right hand, the tails with her left, drew them up towards her shoulder and let it fly with a swishing sound. "Make sure to spread them". She repeated the demonstration then offered the flogger back. "Eh, I...Could you show me?" "On Fred! You must be kidding". She stared from me to the bare back beside us. "Please?" "Aw, I can't do that, he's too sweet". "That's why he deserves to be dealt with by an expert, not a clumsy amateur like me". "Aw...". She hesitated, but her eyes were gleaming. "Well, OK, but only to do you a favour". Her small hands grabbed the tails again, raised the flogger and let it slash across the exposed flesh, leaving ten thin red lines. "One, Miss Jane. Thank you, Miss". Fred's voice was as calm as ever. "You're welcome, loverboy". The tails flew again. "Two, Miss Jane. Thank you, Miss". "How many?" The breathless voice revealed her excitement. "Twenty". "OK".

She really was an expert. The evil strands of the flogger travelled slowly down Fred's back, covering it from shoulders to the back of his thighs. The last two lashes were directed at his arse and even if he continued his calm counting and thanks for the punishment, his voice was strained when he at last announced: "Twenty, Miss Jane. Thank you, Miss". She dropped the flogger and went round to confront him, "You're welcome", then surprised me by throwing her arms around his midriff, burying her face at his chest and whispering: "I'm sorry, Fred. Can you forgive me?" "There's nothing to forgive, Miss Jane. I deserved my punishment. Thank you, Miss". She let go and took a step back, while I let him down and released his chafed wrists. The naked slave dropped to his knees and kissed her feet, then turned to me. "Thank you, Miss Jane and Sir". I looked at the striped back and raised my eyes to meet Jane's. They were moist, but held a strange gleam. 'Sorry or aroused?', I mused and saw her thighs rubbing against each other. "Is Charlie at home?", I asked. "Noo, not until tonight", she whispered. "Would you like to borrow Fred for an hour or two?" "What for?" She stared at me. "He may be able to help you relax". "What do you mean... Aw, shit! Is it that obvious?" I just grinned and nudged the kneeling slave with my foot. "See Miss Jane to her flat and make her comfortable". He looked up, staring at me for a moment, rose and bowed to her. "Yes, Sir". She swallowed hard, stepped up to give me a peck on the cheek and whisper: "Thanks, John, but not a word to Charlie!" I shook no. "I think I'll leave Toby to contemplate his fate". She
swept towards the door, Fred jumping ahead to open it for her, and I followed, patting his shoulder on the way.

I didn't know he was back until he served my tea, calm as always. "Was Jane satisfied with you?" I took a sip, looking at his bowed head and striped back. "So Miss Jane very kindly said, Sir". "And you?" "I was happy serving Miss Jane well, Sir". "Of course, but was it good?" "Miss Jane is a very, eh, passionate woman, Sir". "Miss her?" He looked up at me. "It's as Miss Jane told you, Sir. We were happy together, but parted amiably when it was over". I refrained from prying further and he knelt silently by my chair, while I resumed reading, after all satisfied that I'd done the right thing. Both of us was startled, when Tim a couple of hours later announced that Charlie wanted a word with me, and exchanged worried looks, but the large young man was as friendly as ever when accepting a beer, flopping down on a chair. "I came to ask if I could borrow Fred for a couple of hours tomorrow. Have to finish an essay and I've got stuck". I choked on my drink and almost spluttered it over the floor. "Of course", I gasped, looking at my slave, whose shoulders seemed to be shaking in soundless laughter.

"Very much in demand, aren't we?" I asked, when Fred later that night was licking along the crack of my arse. "So it seems, Sir". He looked up briefly, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "No wonder", I moaned when his tongue stabbed into my hole, "Perhaps I should try the same as Jane". "Sir?" He looked up. "Fuck me". "Yes, Sir, just a minute". He jumped up and left for a moment to come back with a tube of KY-jelly. I'd turned to kneel on the edge of the bed and moaned softly when his fingers probed my arsehole, carefully spreading the lubricant. "Aah, feels good". "Thank you, Sir. Have you tried this before, Sir?" "No". "I've better open you up a bit then, Sir". One of his fingers wormed its way into me, feeling around. A shiver of pleasure ran down my spine when it touched my prostate and I moaned again when a second finger joined it. "God, this is fantastic!", I mumbled and felt a third finger enter. He fucked me slowly and carefully for a while, then withdrew. I felt strangely empty and wriggled my arse impatiently until the head of his cock touched my opening. "Yess, ram it in!" He didn't, just held it there for a moment before pressing gently against my sphincter, slowly going past it and up the hot tunnel until his balls at last touched my arse. "God!", I whispered. It hurt, but sent sensations through my body like nothing I'd felt before. "Good, Sir?" He moved slowly back and forth. "My God, yess!" I was shivering, tears running down my face, when he slowly increased his speed, and began thrusting back to meet him. My own cock banged against my stomach, stiff as a board and throbbing almost painfully until it suddenly spurted thick wads of come on the sheet and I collapsed, spent but more satisfied than ever. Fred's dick left me and I felt his tongue cleaning my hole, but of course he hadn't shot his own load. "God!" I rolled on my back to stare up at him. "Why did I wait all those years for this?" He sank to his knees and cleaned my aching cock carefully.

The next day Fred was his usual calm and subservient self, never revealing the slightest hint that he'd fucked his master. His back was still marked by Jane's flogger and I ordered him to put on a shirt. Charlie phoned after lunch and I sent Fred down as agreed. He kept him all afternoon and, when I asked how it'd gone, Fred told that Charlie had three of their mutual friends over and that he'd been asked for some quite extensive tutoring. "An embarrassment or a pleasure?" "A pleasure, Sir, I was happy to serve the young masters". "Rubbish, Fred! It must have been embarrassing". "No, Sir, it was good to...". "To be allowed using your brain and your skills again". "I...". "Do you still have notes and drafts for your thesis?" "Yes, Sir, at my parents". "I want you to finish it". "Yes, Sir". He sent me a puzzled look. "I expect to use it in my own work". "Yes, Sir". "And if you really don't mind, I'll let Charlie and his friends borrow you again". "I don't, Sir". I told him to phone his parents to prepare them for a visit, and, as an afterthought, asked Christine if she'd like to visit hers. She stared speechlessly at me and burst into tears, but managed to stammer that she would like it, very much.

That night I ordered her to see me to bed for the first time as my slave. She was quite obviously frightened, but did what she could to hide her nervousness when serving as I by now had grown used to, licking my feet and undressing me, hesitating only when my stiff cock sprang free, waving in her face. "Do you ... want me to suck you, Sir?" Her voice quavered and she didn't dare looking up at me. "Not now, start my shower". "Yes, Sir". She jumped up to shed her clothes and pad naked to the bathroom. Her hands were softer than Tim's when they slid down my back, in between my arsecheeks and down my legs. She crept around on her knees to wash my feet and shins. "You may suck me off now". "Yes, Sir". She shuddered, but raised her head to lick my sack and suck gently on the nuts. Her tongue continued up and down my stiff pole and finally her mouth closed on it. I threw back my head into the streaming water, moaning with lust when the hot tongue swirled around me, and came violently. "That was good, slave". "Thank you, Sir". She retched, but managed to swallow my load and rose to continue washing me. When we came back to the bedroom, she drew sheets and blankets off my bed and stood awkwardly cradling them to her chest. "No need to hide your body, I know it quite well already, and don't I own it?" I smiled evilly. "No, Sir. Yes, Sir". She lowered the covering with a resigned look in her eyes. "You may go now. Good night". "Good night, Sir". "Disappointed?" I chuckled and lay down on the bed. "Sir?" She covered me. "That I won't fuck you? Perhaps I should change my mind?" "I...I'll be happy to serve you, Sir". I chuckled again and waved her away.

The next morning I told her to put on a long skirt, which almost covered her bare feet, and Fred to dress in jeans. He advised me that slaves ride in the trunk, but I let them kneel on the floor in front of the back seat instead while we drove to the modest residential area where Christine had her former home. I watched her run up to the door and caught a glimpse of a slender woman when it was opened and she flew into her arms. Fred was dropped off at the entrance to a housing estate. He was as calm and polite as ever, but his eyes revealed his joy. I paid a visit to the library and later went downtown to browse a couple of bookshops. While in the second, I happened to glance through the shop window to see a police van double-parked beside my Bentley. An officer was forcing Tim, hands cuffed behind his back, into the van. 'What the hell!', I thought and hurried out to cross over. Three other, white, teenage-boys, whose worn sneakers revealed that they couldn't be slaves, were on their stomachs beside the van, likewise cuffed. "What's going on here?", I demanded, "What are you doing with my slave?" The two police officers turned, surprised. "This is your slave, Mister, and your car?" "It is". "We caught him conspiring with these punks". "Conspiring?" "Yeah, planning a crime". "Really?" My eyebrows rose questioningly. "What exactly were they doing?" "Well, talking. Your slave used to be member of the street gang the others belong to". "Talking to his friends, then?" "Like I said, Mister, conspiring. Slaves ain't got no free friends and don't talk to free people, 'specially not punks". "I've explicitly allowed mine to do exactly that, if he's waiting by the car and has nothing else to do". "I told, them, Sir, but they wouldn't listen". The officer, who was manhandling him, slapped the back of his head. "Shut the fuck up, slave!" "Will you please refrain from damaging my property, officer, and release him, at once!" "But we caught him planning a crime, Mister", he hissed. "You did nothing of the sort. You saw him talking quietly to his friends, as his master has allowed". "So you believe him innocent?" "I have no reason not to, and neither have you. Now release him!" Grudgingly he unlocked the cuffs and my slaveboy dropped to his knees to kiss my shoes. "Thanks, Sir. We didn't do nothing but talk, Sir". "Of course not, Tim, you may rise". "Let's get the others loaded", the officer grumbled to his fellow. "We can't take them if this gent won't press charges". "And he will not". "Aw, shit, Mister! We know that those punks are criminals, just like your slave". "Then prove it, but without my assistance". He shrugged his shoulders. "OK, OK. We'll get them some other day". They retrieved their cuffs and drove off.

The boys rose, rubbing their wrists. Tall and muscular, they looked very much like my slaveboy, except for their grubby jeans, T-shirts and sneakers. "Thanks", one of them mumbled. "Hey, you say 'Sir' to my master!", Tim hissed. "What for? I don't say that to no bloody master until I've got one". "You do to mine!" The two large boys faced each other, clenching their fists. "Tim!" "Yes, Sir, sorry Sir, but he's gotta show respect". One of the other boys stepped between them, bowing politely to me. "Thanks, Sir, that was fucking decent of you". "Not really, I won't perjure myself". "Lots of people wouldn't think twice about it, and they'll get us anyway, like he told you ...Sir". The first boy sent Tim a sly grin. "Why? Are you criminals?" "Nah, Sir, but we've got to live, ain't we?" "You have no jobs?" "You're kidding, Sir. There are no jobs for guys like us". "Because you're lazy?" "Nah, 'cause they've got slaves...Sir". "But you want work?" "Sure, Sir, if we could find any". I considered for a moment. "Very well. I may have something for you if you show up at Marsfield Gardens in two hours, prepared for honest hard work". "What kind of work, Sir?" "What you tell me slaves do instead of you". "Kay, Sir, thanks". "See you, then. Tim!" "Yessir". He opened the door for me, sent his stupefied fellows a grin and got behind the wheel.

I'd told the two other slaves that they could stay out until six and Christine to prepare a cold lunch for me. We ran an errand on the way and I made some phone-calls while my slaveboy tossed a salad to serve with slices of cured ham, followed by fine cheeses and the strawberry pie, he'd been told how to heat up. When he announced that lunch was ready, somewhat nervous about the outcome of his efforts, I ordered him to lay the table for two. He looked puzzled and was obviously shocked when I told him to sit down and eat with me. "But, Sir!" "I want to talk to you". "Yessir". He was apprehensive, but managed to get through the meal without mishaps, serving me, and himself, and answering my questions about his former life. He even found time to stuff himself and drink the two bottles of coke, I allowed him

I was looking through some files in my study, when I heard him answering a call from Reception and some minutes later open the door. "Get out of them dirty sneakers", he hissed. "Aw, man, we're no slaves, not yet". "Nah, but 'tis me who's gotta clean the fucking floors". "OK, OK". "Those guys are here, Sir". He knelt by the door. "Show them to the garden. I'll join them shortly". "Yessir". The three boys were whispering together, pointing out sights from the rooftop when I came out. "Good afternoon". "Afternoon, Sir". They straightened to face me and I noticed that they'd made an effort to make themselves presentable, even if their grubby bare feet did spoil the picture somewhat. "Please be seated". I indicated a group of garden furniture beside the pool. "May I offer you something to drink?" They sank down on the edge of the chairs. "A coke would be great, Sir". I waved to Tim, who'd followed me out, and took the fourth chair. "I own this estate and have until now employed a service company to maintain it, using slave labour, of course, but am willing to offer you an opportunity to prove that you really are willing to work for your living". Tim came back with a tray and served me a glass of white wine, then turned on his knees to offer the boys coke. "You may have one as well, Tim, if you can stomach more of that nasty stuff". I saluted them and took a sip of my wine. "The estate has quite extensive grounds, as you can see, including swimming-pool and tennis-courts. I want them kept as they are now, flowerbeds weeded and pruned, lawns trimmed to perfection, footpaths raked, forecourt swept, pool cleaned and tennis-courts tidy. Can you do that?" They exchanged doubtful looks. "Guess so, Sir". One of them nodded. "Worked some with a gardener, promised to teach me, but threw me out and bought a couple slaves". "Excellent. What I have in mind is to terminate that part of my contract with the service-company and offer it to you for the same fee as I pay them". They looked at each other again. "Thanks, Sir, mighty kind of you, it is".

"That's settled, then. I have to give two weeks notice, so you can't start until then". "OK, Sir". "But I don't want to risk losing you before actually entering my service, because of some stupid mistake". "We won't make no mistakes, Sir". ""The police might". "Yeah". They looked down, shuffling their bare feet. "Tim tells me that you're more or less homeless, like himself, before he was enslaved". They nodded. "Then I have another proposal. Down at the back of my grounds is a small cottage, built to house the janitor, but unoccupied since he was replaced by slaves, years ago. I'll let you stay there, free of rent". They gaped at me. "But, Sir!" I held up my hand. "And that's not particularly generous. In return I expect you to take care of my property. You can start by cleaning it out, paint it and repair what you can manage". "Yes, Sir. Thanks ever so much, Sir". "Which again means that you are now employed by me". I fished a stack of notes out of my pocket and distributed them to the stupefied boys. "The cottage is not uninhabitable, so I suggest that you fetch your belongings and move in right away to start working on it tomorrow". "Yes, Sir". They jumped up. "Just a minute. Tim!" "Yessir". He hurried in to come back a few moments later with three plastic bags, handing them to his friends. They stood clutching them awkwardly. "Open them", Tim urged and they hauled out a pair of overalls and three T-shirts each. I had 'Marsfield gardener' printed on them. "Put them on, guys. You'll look great". A bit shy they got out of their worn shirts and jeans to reveal three splendid teenage bodies. I almost regretted having saved them from slavery, it could have been a pleasure to play with them, but they did look great in the new clothes. "Tha… Thanks, Sir", they stammered in chorus. "Not at all. I want my employees looking neat. Now, if you've finished your drinks, you may go down to have a look at the cottage. Tim can show you around, and until you've made it ready, you can have your meals up here, with my slaves, provided you treat Christine politely. She may be a slavegirl, but not to you". "Course, Sir, and thanks again, it's...". I raised my hand to silence them and they gathered their clothes and filed out. "One hour, Tim". "Yessir". He followed and a few minutes later I saw them crossing the lawn, Tim gesturing eagerly and slapping their shoulders. 'Another group of old friends, who know how to retain a relaxed relationship, even if one of them is a slave', I thought and went back to my study. Some time later I heard Tim moving around the flat, vacuuming and later cleaning the pool. He came in to remind me that it was half past five, time to fetch his fellow slaves.

Christine was waiting at the front door when Tim drove up. She gave the woman beside her a quick kiss, when I opened the car door, and came running to kneel on the floor beside me, face pressed to the seat and hands clasped behind her back. The older woman, her mother, I presumed, stood looking after her, then strode towards my car. I leaned across the kneeling slavegirl to offer my hand. "How do you do, Ma'am". She looked gravely at me. "I know it's awkward, but I couldn't just... Thank you for treating my daughter so kindly". "I don't know if I do, Ma'am. She's a model slave". "I, eh, but you...". She looked away. "I don't know what to say, but if I can do anything in return...". "Thank you, Ma'am, I'll bear that in mind, but I see no reason to be unnecessarily cruel, don't you agree?" She swallowed hard, "Yes, now", and looked at me again. "We've sold our slaves. I...we couldn't...not after Chris...". She shook her head and turned abruptly to go back to the house. I closed the door and raised her daughter's head to make her look up at me. "Enjoyed your outing, did you?" "Yes, Sir", she whispered, eyes brimming with tears, "Thank you, Sir". "Like another?" "Yes, Sir, very much". "Good, you can have one afternoon a week off, provided that your mother fetches you by car. I won't have you exposed to bullies in the streets". "Thank you, Sir, thank you", she stammered, kissing my hand.

Fred's eyes lit up in surprise when I told him about the new staff, but he didn't comment. "Have a look at the cottage tomorrow and buy what's needed, paint, furniture and fittings, simple, but of good quality". "Yes, Sir". "When the boys come up here, they're your equals, even if they are free and you are slaves". He hesitated. "That's ... unusual, Sir". "But what I want". "Yes, Sir". "I've told Christine that she may visit her family one afternoon a week, you're allowed the same". "Thank you, Sir". "And Tim may have an evening off to stay with his old friends down at the cottage". "Yes, Sir. You are...". I cut him short. "I want to read the draft of your thesis". "Yes, Sir". It was good, in fact brilliant, even if it lacked the finishing touches. A stringent presentation of the subject, at an academic level, I with a pang of regret had to admit that I'd never be able to reach. He got it back without comment, but with an order to take time off to finish it, using my laptop in one of the spare bedrooms.