A Favour for a Friend

Part 4. Pete

"Anybody home?", I call, slamming the door. "Just me". A clear voice answers from upstairs. "What do you mean by 'Just me'?", I demand, kicking off my shoes before taking the stairs in three strides, "You're the most important person of my life". "Why, thank you, kind Sir". She's standing in the bathroom door, naked and still damp from her shower. "And not just at home, but ready to be eaten". Grinning like a madman I grab and swing her kicking and screaming over my shoulder to carry her to our room, dropping her on the bed. "Help! Rape! Someone help me!", she screams. "But there's just me!" I catch her ankles. "Oh, my God! I'm lost". "Not to me, you aren't". I spread her legs, blowing gently at the moist slit. "Oh! What are you doing?" "Nothing much". My tongue parts the inviting lips. "Ooh! Don't…". "Don't what?", I mumble. "Don't stop, ooh, please don't stop. Aieeh!" I close my lips around the stiff nubbin and she lets out a piercing scream, while a torrent of juice bathes my face. I sink back on my heels, looking wonderingly at the naked beauty. "My God! What a horny slut you are. I hardly touched you!" She rises on her elbows, shaking the long blonde mane out of her face. "What are you doing with all those clothes on?"

Half an hour later I roll off her sweaty body, kissing the ample breasts on the way, and stretch out beside her. "Danny, I love you". "I think I've heard that song before, young man. Shame on you, using dirty tricks to get into the trousers of respectable elderly ladies". "I didn't notice no trousers just now, and it's you who ought to be ashamed, seducing innocent boys". She snorts derisively and seconds later her slow breathing reveals that she's asleep. It's always like that, one minute she's most passionate girl imaginable, the next sleeping like a baby. I fold my hands behind my neck and lie staring up to the ceiling. 'How can a boy be so lucky. What did I ever do to deserve this happiness? Well, endured a spell as a slaveboy, I guess, as if that's something. Just imagine, if we hadn't been enslaved, I'd never met Danny!'.

OK, not all of it is fun. A slave, even a happy slave, is still a slave. Limited freedom, lots of hard and boring work, a sore arse every now and then, but I'd had lots of that from I was just a boy. Not that my parents are cruel or neglecting their kids, far from it. You couldn't find a better home, but if not actually poor, neither are they very well off. With Dad a bus driver and Mum a nurse, working all the overtime they can manage to feed and clothe four teenage sons, those sons aren't allowed just dawdling around, enjoying themselves. We have an old house on the outskirts of town, with a fairly large garden that's not all lawns and swimmingpool, but a place where we grow practically all our vegetables, us boys of course, and we do most of the housework, washing and cooking. We'd preferred paper rounds and odd jobs at a diner's or one of the local stores, even if we had to hand most of our earnings over to Mum, but jobs like that went down the drain when slavery was introduced. I won't say that we resented contributing to the family income, but it was a bore that you always had to run straight home after school when your mates got all the time in the world to play games, surf the net, watch TV or a video. Of course we were envious, especially of those of them who had their own private slaves serving them literally hand and foot. We rarely went to parties, simply didn't have the money, but did spend time training hard to gain a sports scholarships, the only way we could hope to go on to high school.

Dad used to joke that he didn't have to buy slaves, he had his own home products, and in a way he was right. We worked as hard as any slave and looked like one too, changed to worn cutoffs and no shoes as soon as we came home, to save our better clothes for school. Another of his jokes was to tell us how lucky we were, getting free training for our future as real slaves. A joke, yes, but it could well happen. Statistically at least one of us would end up enslaved. We knew, but didn't think much about it, only once when Dad talked it over with us. "As long as you haven't done anything wrong, there's no shame in being a slave. What with the laws as they are, it's much too easy for youngsters like you to get in trouble. You just have to be at the wrong place at the wrong moment and off you go. If that should happen, God forbid, promise me that you'll stay good boys, who do a good job to make your mum and me as proud of you as we are now".

And then exactly that happened to me. I was angry, of course, it was so bloody unfair, and didn't get much sleep that first night in the holding cell. Once I overcame the initial shock, though, and could think my situation over more clearly, I was relieved in a queer way. 'Better me than one of the others'. All of my three brothers were well under way through high school or college. They're much taller than I, great basket players, very much in demand, so their future seems secure. I, on the other hand, did slip in on the high school swimming team, but I'm not good enough for a college scholarship, and, frankly, I was a bit tired of school. I don't say that I was looking forward to becoming a slave or anything, only fairly sure that I could handle it. I mean, five years, that's what I reckoned to get, slaving for a service company with a bunch of other young guys, and some nice chicks too perhaps, well it could be fun, at least some of it. Of course it was something of a blow when that surly old judge handed down ten and not five years, especially because I might be sold to a private owner. Service companies prefer short time slaves. That meant longer hours, more boring work and, almost certainly, sexual abuse. It cheered up me up no end when Dad came to say goodbye, telling that he didn't believe for a second that I'd done anything to justify this, but there was nothing to do but make the best out of it. "Always remember that we love you, son".

The camp was OK, such as it was. Tough training, but plain business run by professionals, not sadistic slave whoppers. I was in pretty good shape, used to go barefoot, and they couldn't teach me anything about household chores. Of course I'd never actually served a master, but that wasn't difficult to learn, just humiliating. Staying nude didn't bother me at all. I mean, four brothers growing up together doesn't leave much room for privacy. I'm pretty disciplined and quick to follow orders, so I didn't get more than a few slaps after the initiation on arrival and that was nothing. Dad's no brute, but he does believe in corporal punishment. Has to, I guess, with four sons who can't help getting into trouble sometimes, quarrelling, shrinking from their duties, things like that. All of us knew how Dad's old leather belt felt on a bare arse. So I more or less sailed through the first ten weeks of training, unlike most of the other boys, especially rich kids like Nick. We didn't share a bed, but he was bunked next to me, so we could talk during the R & R hour in the evening. He was pretty much down and out, not least because his dad washed his hands of him. What kind of person treats his kid like that, and a preacher too! He had no idea what had happened at the party, but was full of remorse, so I told him that it couldn't be his fault and not to be silly, and did what I could to get him back on his feet. We agreed that someone had laid a trap, but he couldn't for the life of him guess who or why. Well, he did find out later.

The sex training was bad. I didn't like sucking another guy's cock, especially not forced to go down on one of the other slaves as we had to, not to mention swallowing his piss, but told myself that I'd better learn to do it well. We were asked if we'd tried taking a cock up the arse and were spared, ha, saved for our future masters, if not. The worst part was learning to please a mistress. I'd actually never dated a girl, had neither the time nor the money for it, and didn't know much about women. They brought on a bunch of older slavegirls, about forty or so, well used and not exactly pretty, and made us practise on them. It was disgusting and humiliating to crawl around on the floor, licking their dirty feet and flabby bodies, their sagging breasts or gaping cunts, or their arseholes. It made me turn from girls for the rest of my life, or so I thought at the time.

Anyway, there was an end to that too, and one day I found myself chained at the auction house, ready for inspection. People were milling in and I braced myself for the ordeal, when I suddenly spotted my brothers heading down the line. "Hi, bro. Bad business, ain't it, but we're gonna try making it a bit easier for you". I wasn't allowed to say anything, could just watch them closing on me, gesturing and apparently discussing the possibilities as if preparing to buy me. 'Gee, man! They're trying to spare me being fondled by those perverts' A deep feeling of gratitude overwhelmed me and I almost burst into tears. They shielded me for almost an hour until a guard, who'd been watching us for some time, came up to ask if they were registered buyers, and, if not, find somewhere else to spend their time. With apologetic smiles to me they shuffled out, and, just after they'd left, a rather nice looking fellow looked me over and felt me up a bit. He seemed friendly enough, so I gave him a smile and a wink. When he strolled off with a nod, three of my former schoolmates took over shielding me, later replaced by another three until it was time for the actual auction. 'Gosh, such friends you've got, Pete', I thought. There wasn't much they could do for me, but they'd done what was possible, preventing anyone humiliating me, apart from the friendly guy.

I wasn't able to determine who'd bought me and lost hope that it might be him when they ringed my nipples the next day. Hurt like hell, it did, and I knew that it couldn't be a service company. They don't waste money on special equipment. 'Shit!', I thought', 'Must be some sadistic pervert'. But then I was unloaded together with Nick and Chris and my spirits rose again. At least I knew my fellow slaves and liked them, although we'd never been close, what with my obligations at home and lack of money to spend on fun, and our owner was that friendly guy. My future suddenly seemed a lot brighter. Not for long, though. The nice guy turned out to be a cold master, who just demanded hard work and caned me for no reason. On top of that Chris began shouting at Nick and Master James reduced him and me to snivelling little boys, beating and fucking us without care or pity, that first night. He didn't do it again, but apart from that, things only got worse. We were worked hard all the time and Chris was so beastly towards Nick, absolutely refusing to say a word to him. I tried arguing with her, but she was too angry to listen and even what little light a friendly chat in the evening could have brought into our bleak lives went down the drain. A couple of days after we'd arrived, Nick's brother, Steve, came over to work with Master James on a project. Not that it made it easier for poor Nick. He treated us just as coldly as our master and the two of them made no secret that they were lovers and not just that. We couldn't avoid hearing Steve screaming under the whip before they made noisy love in the bedroom, see the stripes on his arse and back or rope burns on wrists and ankles. To watch the brother he'd always looked up to allowing himself to be treated like that and obviously loving it, made Nick lose his spirit completely.

When some people from the slave court turned up one day, about two weeks after Master James bought us, they found three very subdued slaves, naked and hobbled, worked to exhaustion and freshly striped by their master's cane, which came down whenever he found anything to criticise, and that was practically every day. They made a thorough inspection of the house and garden, and of us of course. "Are you dissatisfied with your slaves, Sir?", one of them asked Master James. "No, not really". "But you cane them quite often, don't you, Sir?" "Only when they deserve it. Do you suggest that I'm too hard?" "Not at all, Sir, but some masters tend to shrink from chastising lazy slaves". "Not me, I rather like it and they're not lazy, just don't always live up to my standards". "A very commendable attitude for a slaveowner, if I may say so, Sir". One of the others turned from Chris. "You keep her locked up, Sir, a very wise precaution, with two boyslaves around". "Well, I don't really know if they'd dare fiddling with her". He chuckled. "No, the real reason is that she's a virgin. You see, I have a nephew at about her age and I've promised him her cherry, actually sent him the key to her locks at his last birthday". The inspector laughed politely. "Very generous, Sir". "Perhaps, but I don't know. I've used her other hole, so delightfully narrow, much better than that the real thing, if you ask me". "I don't, Sir, but heartily agree with you". "And a boyarse isn't much different". "Definitely not, Sir". The third of the party commented on our nudity and hobbles. "Is that wrong? It does save costs" "Not at all, Sir, not at all, but please remember that they must be dressed when leaving your house, in shorts at least". "Of course, but I see no reason to let them out. There's quite enough to occupy their waking hours around here". "Quite, Sir. It's always a pleasure to meet a slaveowner who truly understands his duties".

It could hardly be worse, but anyway I feared that when Master James the next day called the three of us to his study. At first I hardly registered what he was saying, but eventually it sank in. 'Nick an innocent victim of an evil trap and we with him. The crime exposed and that bitch and her cronies enslaved. Our sentences reduced'. What a guy! 'Taking us with him, which meant that he could treat us better. Get dressed'. Nick had obviously not understood a word and I had to drag him bodily to the slaveroom, carrying the bags and key Master James handed us. Once there he stood passively while I unlocked his ankle chain. "Come on, man, wake up! Bad times are over, it's gonna be better from now on". But he just shook his head, mumbling something unintelligible, while I tried to get him into a pair of shorts. Chris came in, babbling how sorry she was and asking him to forgive her, even dropped to her knees and tried to kiss his feet. "Will you stop that and get dressed! We can't keep the master waiting". I freed her badly chafed ankles. "Come on, Chris!" But she didn't listen, just rose to embrace Nick, pressing her naked body to his. "Please! Please, I'm so sorry. I've been such a bitch. Please say you can forgive me? Please!" She kissed him tenderly on the mouth. That woke him up and he tried to free himself. "Chris, don't. It's my fault". "No it isn't, I was wrong, wronged you!" I gave up, took off my own hobble and got dressed in the crisp white shorts and t-shirt from my bag, and left them to sort out their affairs.

Master James had fetched a bottle of white wine and was pouring himself a glass when I came back and knelt before him. "I'm sorry, Sir, but your other slaves are all upset and I can't make them see reason, Sir". "Get up and let's move to the terrace". He handed me a glass and I followed him through the French doors. "Sit down". He dropped into a chair and I knelt beside it. "I told you to sit". "But my new shorts, Sir!" "On a chair". "Yes, Sir". I balanced myself on the edge of a garden chair. "Cheers then". He saluted me and I took a small sip. "I'm sorry". "What for Sir?" "Treating you so badly that you can't cope". "But it's not that, Sir". I told how angry Chris had been and how much it had hurt Nick. "I see, my fault, I should have told you earlier, but I didn't dare raising your hopes until after the inspection, when I knew for certain that I could take you with me and wouldn't have to sell you again". "Yes, Sir". "But perhaps you'd prefer that?" "No, Sir". "Why not? You'd at least stay here in your own country, perhaps see your family". "Slaves are not allowed that, Sir, and we'll like serving together". "I see. Let's talk it over later when you've had time to digest the news. Can you whip up some lunch?" "Yes, Sir, but not as good as Chris, Sir". "Do what you can, the same for all of us, and take the afternoon off to sort out your problems". "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir". I rose. "Don't forget to drink your wine". "No, Sir. Thank you, Sir".

After that things went from better to good. Chris and Nick calmed down. We ate a simple lunch of salad, ham and cheese, the first real food we'd had for almost four months, in the kitchen, making small talk, joking even, almost like we used to at school. Master James repeated that we could spend the afternoon as we liked and retired to his study. Steve came for dinner and had a long talk with his brother before all five of us sat down to eat. Nick was coming back to his old self and Master James and the wine he insisted we had with the meal made us slaves lose our initial shyness and talk freely. The master mostly listened, asking questions about our former lives and what sort of education we'd planned prior to our enslavement. Afterwards, over coffee in the living room, he told that we'd leave in about ten days to stay at his house in his hometown, one of, if not the oldest in his country. "I'm duty bound to treat you according to the rules and customs over here, but slaves are unknown where I come from, so whenever leaving the house, you'll be dressed and behave like all other young people. And you'll spend quite some time getting educated, starting with a crash course to obtain our equivalent of your high school exam". He looked hard at us. "That's one part of your work. Beside that, you'll take care of house and garden and serve me as usual". "Yes, Sir, of course, Sir, and thank you, Sir", Nick answered gravely. "And I'll be a cruel master". "Yes, Sir". "Because I've no intention of punishing you physically, even if you deserve it, just scold you". "Yes, Sir". We looked surprised at him and he grinned. "To make you feel miserable because of your ingratitude. I've saved you from a much worse fate, haven't I". "Yes, Sir". I dared grin back. "Maybe you ought to keep the cane, Sir". "I will, Pete, but not to use on you. I'm thoroughly ashamed as it is, because you're quite innocent and in my opinion wrongly convicted, but I couldn't risk being labelled a slack slaveowner. That might have made it impossible for me to keep you, not to mention bring you out of the country".

Master James allowed us to spend a couple of days with our families before going abroad. Nick's reverend father still refused to see him in his state of disgrace, but his mother went up to stay a few days with his sister at her college and Steve drove him there. Master James took Chris and me in his own car, dropping her at her parent's house on the way, before delivering me to my family. He'd given each of us a cell phone, with orders to call him in any emergency. Dad and Mum had taken half the day off, something I knew they could hardly afford, and greeted Master James very cordially, inviting him in for a cup of tea. He accepted, gladly I think, and spent an hour with us. My parents were more than pleased to hear him praising my skills. Those days were like old times, just as if I wasn't a slave, and it was a bit heavy hearted that I prepared to go, not only back to my duties, but away for the next more than four years. "A great opportunity, son", Dad gravely told me, "Do not disappoint your mother and me by wasting it".

Steve fetched me, telling that Nick's outing had been a mixed blessing. He was glad to see his mother and sister, but felt unjustly rejected by his father. For Chris, though, it had been a disaster from the very beginning. Her mum and dad did appear happy to see her, but insisted that they were bound by law to treat her as the slave she now was. It was already an infringement of the rules that an enslaved relative visited her family. Because she wasn't their own property, only placed in their care, she was hobbled as an extra precaution. She had to sit on the floor in their presence and eat in the kitchen with the family slaves. It dismayed her, but offered an opportunity for a talk with her former slavegirl, Rosie, on equal terms. The girl poured out her heart, telling how beastly Chris' younger brother had behaved since she became his after the enslavement of her mistress. She had to submit to all of his sexual demands, even suck his friends or offer up her arse or cunt for their pleasure. Sometimes she'd been taken simultaneously in all of her three holes. Chris was horrified and tried to comfort the poor girl, but didn't want to spoil what little pleasure she had from the visit by complaining about her brother, even if she expected her mother to be furious if told about the abuse. She didn't even tell how he and his friends had humiliated her at the auction.

The clever little beast played the role of a loving younger brother perfectly as long as their parents were about, telling at length how sorry he was for her, how much he missed her and how unfair he found her enslavement. When she asked to see her former room, he obligingly offered to follow her up, pointing out that she had to be under supervision, and helpfully took her arm in case she should trip over the ankle chain. Once alone, he 'happened' to stomp on her toes and when she cried out in pain and stumbled, grabbed her breasts to support her. "Hey, Sis, you've been ringed!" She suppressed an angry outburst, tersely confirming the fact. "Poor, poor Sis", he cooed and followed her up the stairs. "Down here as well?" His hand went between her legs. "Stop that!" "Just trying to help, Sis". Once in her, now his, room, he flopped down on a chair while she stood looking around at the lost treasures, fighting her tears. "Hey! Slaves don't stand when their master's sitting. On your knees, Sis". Once again she controlled her anger and sank down, looking pleadingly at him "Please! Can't you leave me alone for a while?" "Got to keep an eye on you, haven't I?" "You could wait just outside the door". "What! A master banned to the cold landing while his slave's enjoying herself?" "Please, just a few minutes!" "What's in it for me?" "You can have my Elvis poster" "That's not yours any longer, Sis. Slaves can't own things". He grinned lewdly. "But you could show me those rings". "Why, you little…". She caught herself, thinking: 'He's seen me naked already', and raised the hem of her t-shirt to bare the firm mounds. He leaned forward to have a closer look, eyes gleaming. "Real nice, ought to be standard for slavegirls. Chain her to the headboard by them, on her knees, and she stops squirming around while you fuck her arse. Does he do that, your master?" She looked away and covered herself. "Please leave me alone now. I've done what you asked". "No way. I said rings, didn't I? Show me the others". She jumped up, eyes flashing angrily. "You've seen enough, more than enough , you snot…. And so have I, let's go". "Aw, Sis, not that soon. Don't you want to relax a bit? Let's listen to some music". "No!" "But I say yes. Put on a CD… slave. Now!"

When their mother an hour later came up, followed by a slave with a service of tea and fresh apple pie, she was pleased to find her children apparently enjoying each other's company. Something they never did when Chris was still at home. What she didn't see, was that her dear son denied his sister tea, "That's not for slaves, Sis", and ate all of the cake, smacking his lips and telling how delicious it was. She kept her temper at bay and endured his domination in silence until they were called down for dinner, which for her was slave food in the kitchen. She joined the family for coffee in the living room afterwards, sitting on the floor of course, but the atmosphere was strained and awkward, so she pretended to be tired and asked if she could go to bed early. In one of the spare bedrooms, she naively expected, but that couldn't be allowed. "No, dear, rules are rules. You must be locked up in the slaveroom". With a sigh she kissed her parents good night, while her brother once again jumped up and offered to take her to the cellar.

Once down there he told her to lie down on the floor and raise her legs to be relieved of the ankle cuffs. "OK, Sis, get naked". "No way!" She jumped up, clenching her fists. "Standing orders, Sis. Slaves' clothes are locked away during the night, and besides, you have to do your things, don't you?" He nodded at the three rusty showerheads over open drains at one end of the bare room, grinning hugely. "Not with you around, you dirty, snivelling bastard!" She finally lost her temper and screamed in his face. "Hey, Sis, you can't talk to a free man like that. You're a slave!" But she went on, calling him all the dirty names she could think of at the top of her voice, until their parents came down, alarmed by the noise. "What's going on here? Have you lost your mind, girl?" Her father grabbed her arm and shook her angrily. "No, it's… He…". She broke down crying, pouring out how beastly her brother had behaved, what he and his friends had done to her at the auction house, how they'd planned to buy and abuse her, even what Rosie had told her. When she finally stopped, sobbing helplessly, he looked calmly from her to their parents. "She's lying". "Of course she is, darling". Their mother shook her head sadly. "What's gone into you, Chris, you've always been such a kind and gentle girl?" "You know what, dear. They change, once enslaved, become subhuman, though I'd never thought that my own daughter…". "Dad! How can you say that, that I'm not human?" "Because of what I see and hear with my own eyes and ears. You're behaving like a slave, obstinate, disobedient, telling lies, and such behaviour must have its consequences. Ten strokes with the cane. Undress and bend over the sawhorse". "Dad!" "Now!" "Mum!" "I'm sorry, dear, but it's only what you've earned yourself". "Can I do it, Dad? It's about me she's telling lies". "That's only reasonable, you can give her the last five. Get out of those clothes, slavegirl!"

Frozen in shock Chris mechanically fumbled with the shorts, but woke of her stupor when she felt a hard object in a pocket. Regaining her senses she suddenly jumped past her father and ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door locked behind her, then fled to the adjacent bathroom, locking herself up. Ignoring the angry shouting and banging on the door she hauled out the cell phone, Master James had given her, and pressed the button.

With the help of his male slaves her father had broken through the first door and they were working on the next when the noise died down to be replaced by loud arguing. A little later she heard her master's voice: "You can come out now, Christine. No one will hurt you, I'm here". She unlocked the door and threw herself into his arms. "Come now, little one, calm down. They haven't hurt you, have they?" "Noo, but they were going to cane me, my father and, and my brother". "She's lying, it was just a threat to make her see reason". "If you say so, and I wouldn't hesitate to sue if you'd damaged my property". "You left her in my care. It's my right and duty to chastise an unruly slave!" "So who's lying here, Sir? But I'll relieve you of that burden. Come, Christine, let's go home".

Master James listened patiently to her ramblings, sharing a bottle of wine with her and gently guiding her back on track when she lost the thread, until he'd heard the complete story of her enslavement, the horrors of the training camp up until the auction. "And there you were bought by a sadistic master". Unloading her heart had calmed her down and she smiled shyly. "So we thought, Sir, but that's not true. You're the kindest and most generous master any slave could hope to have. Thank you for saving me tonight". "I'm sorry that it went so wrong". "I hate them! I don't want to see them again, ever! I'm so glad that you're taking me far away, Sir". "Time will heal, Christine, but just now you're right. It wouldn't do you any good to stay here and risk meeting your brother in the street". "That beast!" She shuddered. "I hope he'll do something to get him enslaved". "He might benefit from the experience, but as a whole I find the idea of enslaving people wrong, even if it's real criminals, and I've already seen too much injustice done". "Oh, yes, Sir, and there's more". She told how Danny had been enslaved for twenty years, defending her sister against a rapist. "She saved my life, Sir, and I promised to find her and make my dad by her, but I can't do that now. Oh, it's so terrible!" She burst into tears again. "Do you know her full name and where she used to live? Perhaps I can find out who bought her and how she fares now". They talked it over and he told her to take a long hot bath in his bathroom and sleep in the spare bedroom.

Back from our outings, all of us downcast, though for different reasons, we were kept busy packing Master James' stuff and preparing to leave the rented house. Nick and I still slept in the cells, but were not locked up at night. Chris stayed on in the bedroom, even if she protested that it was unfair to us boys. We were allowed to use the bathroom and eat the same meals as Master James and Steve, even watch TV in Chris' room when not serving in the evening. Master James stayed kind and polite, asking, not ordering us to serve him, and the cane wasn't used again. Not on us, that is. Steve was still moaning and screaming in the bedroom every night, but now even Nick accepted their relationship and all of us sensed how hard it was for them to part and felt sorry for them. Steve had considered taking a job abroad, but in the end decided not to leave their parents alone and opted to stay.

We had almost everything ready two days before we were due to leave when Chris one morning burst into the garage where Nick and I were scrubbing the floor, naked for once and covered in sweat and grime. "There's a slave van at the door. Oh, God! He's selling us after all". She was on the verge of tears. "Of course he isn't, but it could be another inspection. Quick, get naked, Chris. I'll fetch the hobbles". Just then we heard Master James calling her and she ran off, frantically tearing off her t-shirt. We followed to get chained up, at least we looked like two hard worked slaveboys, and had reached the scullery, when we heard Master James again. "Christine, fetch Nick and Pete too. I'll need all three of you for this, I think. Here you are, officer, and thanks for the quick delivery". We hurried through the kitchen, glimpsing two slave handlers leaving, and heard Chris cry out. In the hall we found her on her knees, sobbing and cradling a naked girl in her arms. Master James stood beside them, looking concerned. "Meet my new slavegirl, Danielle". He touched Chris' shoulder. "Come on, there'll be a time for that later. What she needs just now is a hot bath, run along to prepare it. The boys can help her". She turned on her knees to kiss his shoes and looked up with a face stained by tears. "Sir! You're not only the kindest master, but the kindest man alive! I…". "Sure, but hurry now". She kissed his shoes again, jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

Master James turned to us. "Lift her up, gently. She's exhausted and pretty badly hurt, I'm afraid". The new girl's head was cropped to a mere stubble, her wrists and ankles badly chafed, and her back and arse striped and scarred by a whip. I grabbed under her armpits and gestured Nick to take her legs. "No, Sir, I can walk, or crawl, Sir", she protested feebly. "You'll do as I say". We hefted her up to reveal that her front, not least her ample breasts, were marked like her back, even her pubic area was heavily striped. Nick gasped and Master James shook his head. "She'll need more than a bath, but let's begin with that". We got the limp body to the bathroom where Chris had filled the tub with hot scented water and lowered it gently. "Let's leave it to the girls, shall we?" Master James gestured us out. "Wash off the dirt and get dressed". "Yes, Sir. Can we finish the garage first, Sir?" "Do as you like. I'll run up to town and get some salve and things".

When we saw her again, resting on a sun bed on the terrace, now partly covered by shorts and shirt, Danny looked much better, but still very weak. Master James was sitting beside her with a glass of wine. "Lay a table out here, we're lunching together today". Chris had made a rich vegetable soup, fillet of plaice, and strawberry flan, and Danny begged to be allowed at table, even if Master James told us to serve her where she was. "I haven't been sitting at a table for more than three months, Sir, haven't had real food either". During lunch Master James told her about our imminent departure and what kind of life she could expect as his slave. I could hardly take my eyes from her, even bald she seemed to me the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, but wondered about the glimpse of steel I thought to detect in her eyes the few times they met mine. Not that she wasn't subdued, humble even, didn't speak unless asked a direct question and mostly kept her eyes lowered, but her spirit was clearly not broken, in spite of what she so obviously had suffered. After lunch Master James told her to rest again and Chris to stay with her. Nick and I gave the garden a last touch up. The girls talked quietly for a while, but then Danny apparently fell asleep. Later Master James called for Nick and I worked on. When I was weeding the roses around the terrace Chris came over to whisper that she had to start dinner and would I keep an eye on the sleeping girl? I'd almost finished when I heard a clear voice: "Pete, isn't it?" I jumped up. "Can I do anything for you?" "Show me where I can have a drink of water". "You just stay there and I'll get it. Just water?" She nodded. "How about a coke?" "Are we allowed that?" "Sure, you like?" She nodded again and I fetched a cool glass in the kitchen and sat down beside her bed. "Aah, first coke I've had for months. He must be a very kind master". "He is, the best", I answered emphatically. "Must be, but he can do whatever he likes to me. He saved my life". "Was it that bad?" "Yes". She closed her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, not just now, but I was bought by a couple of true sadists, man and wife. Had to pay §78.000 for me, that's something, isn't it?" "You're worth a lot more". "Thanks". She sent me a weak smile and took another sip. "They kept me in the cellar and tortured me, every day, both of them. I'd decided to kill myself, but wanted to take at least one of them with me. Had figured out how to do it. That's what kept me alive until I was suddenly fetched up and handed over to the chief of police. I knew him from the trial of that cursed bastard of a stepfather I had. He took me to the slave centre and I was examined by a doctor, then locked up in a holding cell for the night and brought here today. To Heaven on Earth". She sniffed and I saw tears in her eyes. "Now tell me about yourself. I know Chris, but not you and that other boy, Nick, isn't it?"

So I talked a bit about myself and what I knew of Nick, but mostly about the last few weeks. "He must be a saint, our master, saving not only you, but me as well". "He did, Chris and Nick for certain, I might have gone to a service company, that's not too bad, but he got my sentence reduced. And yes, he's kind, very kind, but not a saint. He has his dark side". I told about the relationship between Master James and Steve. "But that's consensual. He doesn't abuse people who can't resist, his slaves". "No, only once and only for our sake". "Well, he can do anything he likes to me, and welcome, as I said". "Same here, and I'm sure that Chris and Nick agree, but I don't think he will. May want to, but too decent to force us".

Danny was sent straight to bed after dinner, she slept most of the next day as well, but we joined Master James for coffee in the sitting room. "I know that your new fellow doesn't want to talk about her experience as a slave, and we'll respect that". He looked sternly at us. "Yes, Sir", Chris answered firmly. "But I can tell you this much. When Christine cried out her heart about being unable to help her friend, I decided to make use of my connections, so I asked my police friend if he could find out what had happened to the girl. It was easy enough, she'd been bought by a well-known businessman from this town, very influential, close friend of the mayor. It seemed quite straightforward, the girl would be all right, just one slave among many in a big household, but now I'd got three fine slaves for free, why not buy another, one I could keep for a longer time? So I asked my friend to find out if her owner was willing to sell. He did and was told that the man knew nothing about her. That was puzzling and my friend checked again, only to find that she indeed had been sold to that particular person. Now more suspicious than puzzled, he asked to see her, but was rebuked. Policemen don't like that, not even from the mayor's friends, so he instigated an unannounced inspection of the slaves of that household. She was not among the houseslaves. That really made him smell a rat and demand to see her or he'd come back with a search warrant. The man and his wife tried to fend him off, mentioning their connections in high places, but my friend is rather insistent and completely incorruptible. In the end Danielle was brought up, even worse looking than she is now, and the couple admitted that they have this very special hobby, torturing and abusing young girls. Only slavegirls, criminals, nothing wrong with that, was there? My friend thought so and demanded to see the place where she'd been kept. It was a veritable dungeon, complete with chains on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, X-cross, torture bench, cage, every conceivable instrument for tormenting a girl. My friend is not against slavery, can't be in his job, and fully agrees that it's a punishment, not a holiday, and that slaveowners are entitled to get their money's worth out of their property, but finds unjustified cruelty and excessive abuse unacceptable. He threatened the couple with exposing their abnormal sex habits and when they, as expected, offered money for his silence, he for once abandoned his principles and asked for the girl. They dared not refuse and signed her over to him on the spot. Yesterday he made me a present of her, so now she's mine". He smiled thinly. "Not the worst gift I've ever received, but the prospect of keeping captive for twenty years a girl, who in my opinion has committed no crime, doesn't appeal to me at all". "No, Sir". Chris had tears in her eyes. "But she has to stay a slave for that long and couldn't have a better master".

The next day we shipped off most of Master James' belongings and Steve came over to bid a tearful goodbye, tearful in more than one way. A car and a van brought us to the airport next morning. We slaves were chained up in the van and delivered to the cargo area of the airport in handcuffs and hobbles. When it was time to board the aircraft we, and a few other slaves, were taken aboard first and brought to a screened off part of the cabin where we were chained by the neck to some hard wooden seats and had our ankles cuffed to rings in the floor. Master James came down a couple of times during the long flight, 'to inspect his property', feeding us bottles of soft drink. Apart from that there were no meals or drinks for us slaves, not even water. Too much work to unchain us to go to the loo, I guess. After landing we waited until all regular passengers had left and were then taken to the luggage room. The workers, who were handling the suitcases, looked curiously at us, but said nothing. After standing there for a while, cuffed and hobbled, barefoot in skimpy shorts and t-shirts, we were called out to a crowded arrival lounge where Master James was waiting. He looked dismayed at us, took off my handcuffs and handed me the key. "Get those damned chains off, and quickly". People were staring and whispering while I hurriedly freed my fellow slaves. "Take these and get changed, over there". He pointed to the lavatories and indicated four carrier bags. They contained not only jeans and polo neck sweaters, to hide our collars, but underwear, socks and trainers as well, even a windbreaker. In a way it felt odd to be fully dressed again after almost four months, but no one took any notice of us when we followed Master James to the taxi stand. He handed me a card. "This is the address, in case you get lost. It's quite a long drive". I stared at him. "Did you expect to be chained on the floor?" He called two cabs, got into the first with Danny, who seemed near collapse, worn out as she was before we even started the journey. We loaded his suitcases in the next and drove off to our unknown destination.

'And what a paradise that was!' Even after three years I haven't really grown used to it. A three-storey eighteenth-century town house at one end of what they call a crescent, right in the middle of this ancient town, with a walled garden behind. It was a bit dusty and stuffy when I first saw it, but charming, filled with antiques and paintings. "Unoccupied since my aunt died", Master James explained while we went through the spacious rooms, "Cleaned once every three months, but there's some good honest work for you here". "Yes, Sir. Looking forward to it, Sir". Nick grinned hugely. "Of course there are no slaveroom, but I guess the old coal cellar will do". "Yes, Sir". His grin faltered. "Or perhaps the garden shed". Now it was Master James' turn to grin. He led us across the lawn to a two-storey building at the far end. "The old mews". Now the garage, of course, with two large black cars. A little hall with a door opening to a back street had a staircase to the second floor. Five rooms upstairs, one of them large enough to be named a sitting room, bathroom, even a small kitchen. "Is this", Chris stammered, "Is this the slaverooms, Sir. Do we stay here?" "If you don't mind. There's still the coal cellar, you know".

Danny mumbles in her sleep. A slim arm comes across my chest and I snuggle closer to the warm body. 'Paradise! That's what it is. A fucking paradise'. Grinning to myself I drift off.