The Prince Trains a Slave, Pt. 9

The following morning, I found Pashir with Brigitta in her chamber. Steven was already there and automatically snapped into a slave’s ready position before he could catch himself. He flushed with color and gave a sheepish half grin when he realized what he’d done.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, patting him on the shoulder in greeting. “It’s an old habit that will take time to get over.” I slowly walked around the examination table on which Reggie was strapped. His fresh Mohawk was slightly wilted on top and crushed down on the back of his head. “You know, this is a high maintenance style for a slave, Steven. You’ll have to make sure he keeps it neat.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Steven replied. “But, it will probably be worth it - I kind of like how he looks with it.”

“S-s-slave?” Reggie stammered.

“Yes - a slave,” I nodded, giving his face a pat. “Get used to the idea, Reg old boy - because that’s what you are now. Steven here will train you. Pay attention to him and learn your lessons and you’ll get along nicely. If you don’t - well, let’s just say that it will be a very painful experience for you if you don’t.”

“Yew can’t do that!” Reggie cried.

“Sure we can,” I assured him. “In fact, we can do anything we please with you now.”

Reggie shook his head in disbelief. “No - no you can’t - it ain’t legal,” Reggie argued.

Everyone joined me in laughing at Reggie’s line of reasoning. “And I suppose extortion, drugs, and everything else you were involved in was legal?” I laughed. “Try another line of reasoning, Reg. That one just doesn’t hold water.”

“Nah - it ain’t possible,” Reggie said, his voice betraying a lack of conviction.

“Oh, of course it’s possible,” I said. “Let me demonstrate.” I turned to Brigitta. “Put a ring through each of his nipples.”

Brigitta grinned. “With pleasure,” she said turning on her heel to get the necessary equipment. When she returned to the table, she made a show of pulling on her latex gloves as Reggie watched with mounting concern.

“This ain’t ‘appenin’,” he blubbered as Brigitta wiped each of his nipples with antiseptic solution. He screamed in fear as Brigitta expertly pushed a needle through his right nipple.

“Oh behave, you big baby,” Brigitta chided. “It hurts, I know, but it doesn’t hurt that much.” Amazingly, Reggie’s scream stopped almost immediately and was replaced by whimpering as Brigitta worked the first silver ring through the hole she’d just made. She went around the table and began working on his other nipple as he watched and continued to whimper. “There, you are all finished. Now you see that all that noise was unnecessary. You were behaving like a big girlie boy - you should be ashamed of yourself.” Reggie’s face turned a deep crimson as Brigitta chided him.

The door opened and Alexi slipped into the chamber. “I regret having to miss everything yesterday,” he said softly after I greeted him. “I borrowed Monk and began checking out things on the street.”

“Already?”

“Already,” Alexi nodded. “All of Manchester’s gang who were here the other night have left the area already for parts unknown.”

“Can’t really blame them,” I said.

“No, no you really can’t,” Alexi agreed. “Only Sidney Snell is still in the area - and after running into Monk yesterday, I don’t think he’ll be around here much longer. He was in the process of making protection collections from some small shopkeepers when Monk and I found him. It turned out that he hadn’t checked in at the minicab stand yet. He almost wet himself when Monk told him what happened.”

“The neighborhood is better off without those punks,” I said. “I’m sure the shopkeepers will be happy not to have to make protection payments anymore.

“That’s true,” Alexi agreed. “But, it’s not going to last long.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nature abhors a vacuum, and you’ve created one by eliminating Manchester and his gang,” Alexi pointed out. “Sooner or later another gang will move in to take their place.”

I sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to discourage that when the time comes.”

Alexi glanced over Reggie approvingly. “I like the changes so far.”

I explained to Alexi the modifications that were about to be done to Reggie. The dimples in his cheeks deepened as I described what was planned for the former gangster. Alexi was impressed when I told him that Mackenzie had done the Mohawk and dye job on Reggie.

“What about his brother?” Alexi asked.

“Aside from a couple of canings to remind him of what a bad lad he’s been and some sensory deprivation to screw up his sense of time, he’s going to be left alone for the next couple of weeks,” I said.

“Why is that?” Alexi asked curiously.

“I want little Reg here healed up and trained a little so Barry can see what’s become of Reggie thanks to him,” I said.

“And then?”

“His punishment will begin in earnest,” I said. “I’ve already sent out word to several of the markets that he’ll be going on auction. He’s definitely going to be penectomized. Other major modifications will be made once he’s sold to suit his buyer.”

“Good idea,” Alexi nodded. “His auction will be a good way to inaugurate the opening of the London operations.”

Pashir came up and politely interrupted us to say that Brigitta was finally ready to brand Reggie. He added that he’d perform the nullification immediately following that. Pashir explained that he already had Sam and Diana preparing the operating room and that they should be arriving with a gurney soon.

Moving closer to the table, I noticed that Brigitta had added two more straps to the table. One was placed across Reggie’s upper abdomen and the other was placed between his hips and navel. Both straps had been pulled tight to prevent Reggie from moving. Brigitta was bending over her subject marking his smooth skin with a grease pencil. While Alexi and I had been talking, Brigitta or Steve had fitted a ball gag in Reggie’s mouth.

Brigitta looked up and winked. “I want to make sure the lettering is exactly in the middle of his belly,” she explained. “The marks will make sure everything is lined up perfectly.”

Pashir stood by a small cart and carefully laid out some sterile pads and antiseptic ointment. I wandered over to him and he explained that as soon as Brigitta finished branding the new slave, he’d apply an anesthetic ointment and an antibiotic salve before applying a sterile dressing. I nodded – he was the doctor and I trusted his decisions. I stayed out of the way as Brigitta slid metal letters onto a steel plate and spelled out the word SLAVE. Once she had the letters aligned, she connected the plate to a metal rod and began heating the plate with a propane torch. Brigitta watched intently as the metal letters heated up. When the letters glowed white, she moved quickly to the table, lined up the branding iron over the marks she’d made and carefully pressed the hot iron against Reggie’s belly.

Even with the gag in place, Reggie managed to fill the room with a scream of agony as Brigitta held the brand in place exerting even pressure for a moment before pulling it away. We all leaned closer to examine her work. The word ‘SLAVE’ was perfectly formed in angry red welts across Reggie’s belly. Satisfied with her work, Brigitta stepped away and nodded to Pashir who quickly moved in to apply a soothing ointment to Reggie’s burned skin and apply a bandage. As he worked, Pashir spoke soothingly to Reggie in the manner of a vet talking to a frightened animal.

“He won’t feel anything once I get him down to the clinic,” Pashir said, removing his latex gloves and heading to the internal phone. “I’ll have the gurney here shortly,” he said as he punched in the number to the clinic. “It will take a while to get him prepped,” the doctor explained. “Do you wish to be present? I can call you when we’re ready to begin.”

“Yes - yes that would be a good idea,” I said. “I have a couple of things I need to take care of and I do want to be present if possible. Call up to my office - if I’m not there, someone can reach me.”

Entering the outer office Irma looked up from the desk and brightened. Half-emptied boxes were scattered about the desk and on the credenza. She hurried around the desk and threw her arms around me.

“Thank you, thank you for everything you have done,” Irma cried excitedly.

I disentangled myself from her and smiled. “Don’t make such a big deal out of it,” I said in amusement. “I needed a secretary who was efficient and whom I could trust.”

“I mean about Ingo,” Irma said. “You have done so much for him.”

“Look, he wasn’t being treated fairly,” I said. “Don’t be so quick to thank me yet. He still has a debt to pay - an even bigger one than before. If he doesn’t manage to pay it off, he could still end up collared for life.”

“But that won’t happen now,” Irma said with confidence. “You’ll be fair and he will be confident in himself - he won’t make so many mistakes as he did before.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Now, have you gotten settled in at your flat?”

“Oh, still some boxes are to be unpacked,” she said. “The flat is beautiful.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it,” I said. “Now - to work. Have Konrad and Mackenzie meet me next door at the Emporium.” I wrote my cell phone number on a card. “I’m expecting a call from Dr. Pashir - if I’m not back when it comes, give me a call at this number.”

The Emporium was a beehive of activity as the contractor’s crews worked to finish their work and the first of the tenants were beginning to set up their businesses. Some had small shops, while others had opted for stylish stalls or kiosks. The full shops lined the two outer walls, while the stalls and kiosks ran down the center of the refurbished warehouse in a double row.

“It’s looking very good,” Alexi said.

“You should see the upper level,” I responded. It’s just as nice and there’s a fantastic restaurant at the back overlooking the Thames. Actually, the restaurant occupies both levels and it has patio tables.”

“Sounds like an expensive proposition,” Alexi commented. “Who did you find to take on that rent?”

“Me,” I grinned.

Alexi regarded me with a bemused expression. “You began life with one fortune,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re well on your way to a second fortune with your share of the club and these properties. Working on your third fortune already?”

“Something like that,” I grinned. I led Alexi to the upper level of the Emporium and stopped in front of a double-sized shop housing a barbershop and styling salon. Each shop was a separate entity and not accessible through the interiors. The fronts were finished to resemble Victorian-era shops.

“This is for Konrad,” he said. “It’s nice.”

“Actually, he’ll only be half owner,” I said. “You and I own the other half.” Before I could say anything else, Konrad and Mackenzie came trudging up the wide stairs from the lower level. They brightened when they saw us and headed straight over. “What do you think of this place?” I asked Konrad.

He wandered along the whole front of the shop, peering into the windows. “Very nice, I must say,” he admitted.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said pulling the keys to the door from my pocket and tossing them to him. “Because you’re half owner.”

Konrad’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline in shocked amazement. The keys hit his outstretched hand, but in his amazement, he forgot to close his hand and they dropped to the floor with a clatter. “What are you saying?”

“You - own - half - of - this - shop,” I said very slowly. “It’s not such a hard concept to grasp.”

“No - no, it is not,” Konrad stammered. “But, I don’t understand why.”

“For one thing, because I wanted to do it,” I said. “And, as a totally honest and mercenary reason, because I expect you to turn a handsome profit on this place for Alexi and me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Konrad murmured, still awe-struck.

“Go on, open the shop up,” I encouraged. “There’s still quite a bit of work to be done on the inside - but, you’ll have to take care of that.”

Konrad’s hands were trembling with excitement as he tried to fit the key in the lock of the barbershop and get the shop doors open. He eventually got the doors open and rushed into the shop. Like I had said - there was a lot of interior work to be done. Five old-fashioned barber chairs sat clustered along one wall, waiting for their final placement.

Before I could say anything else, the phone in my pocket gave a double bleep. Answering it by the second ring, I listened as Dr. Pashir announced that he was ready to begin the surgical procedure if I was interested in being present. I told him to hold off for about ten minutes and we’d be joining him in the clinic. Snapping the phone closed, I watched in amazement as Konrad moved through the deep shop trying to decide where to put the shampoo stations and whether to have some kind of barrier between the waiting area and the shop floor.

“Pashir is ready to begin,” I called. “If you two would like to join us, we’re headed over now. If not, have fun here.”

Konrad looked torn between the two options. “Ah, would it be possible for us to come over in a little bit?”

Alexi laughed at the question. “Sure - we’re just going to be watching, not assisting. We’ll see you later.”

Entering the clinic, we found Pashir deep in conversation with Steven. Both looked up in greeting as we approached. I noticed that Steven was still having trouble addressing me as either Duncan or Mr. Masters and he only barely managed not to snap to a position of slave attention at our approach.

“I was telling Steven here that I could proceed in one of several ways,” Pashir explained. “I can remove everything and create the appearance of female genitalia, I can leave a stump of the subject’s penis, or I can create a totally smooth look.”

I turned to Steven. “What’s your choice?” I asked.

“Each method has a certain appeal,” Steven said slowly. He chuckled. “I’m a little out of practice on making choices and I’m afraid of making the wrong one.”

“None of them is wrong,” Alexi said. “Which look do you want for your slave?”

“Well, I kind of like the idea of him looking as gender neutral as a doll,” Steven said slowly. As he explained his reasoning, a chime sounded inside my brain.

I told Steven to hold off on making a decision until I returned and pulled Brigitta into the clinic waiting room. She listened attentively as I described Steven’s original idea of turning Reggie into a living doll. Then, I explained the idea that had just popped into my head. As I talked, Brigitta’s face lit up as she leaned closer as if afraid of missing a single word.

“Oh yes,” Brigitta said when I’d finished. “I think what you have suggested is very possible - in fact, I have some additional ideas which might work very well.” I noticed that when Brigitta was excited, her German accent became more pronounced. She asked if I could get Pashir to hold off on starting the operation for a few more minutes and hurried from the room, promising to return shortly.

I asked Pashir to wait a bit longer, and told Steve to hold off on making a decision until Brigitta returned. I was tempted to tell him about my idea, but decided to let Brigitta have that pleasure. We didn’t have a long wait - the tattooist bustled in with a large case that she laid on a small trolley, which she rolled over to the operating table.

“I understand that Steven’s original idea was to turn this prick into a living doll and have him made totally smooth between his legs,” Brigitta said. She opened her case and took out a small puff applicator and a vial of rouge and began applying it to Reggie’s cheeks. “Imagine taking that idea a little further,” she said as she worked, making a perfectly round circle of color on each of the new slave’s cheeks. Once she was finished with Reggie’s cheeks, she took a lip liner and began working on Reggie’s mouth - creating exaggerated bow lips. She finished up by using an eyebrow pencil to draw slightly arched eyebrows where Reggie’s own brows had been. “Of course, this makeup is just for demonstration purposes,” Brigitta explained. “I can do everything permanently with my tattoo gun and really turn this slave into a living doll.” Smiling, she rummaged in the case and brought out a latex wig. “I quickly cut this from a costume mask, but it should give you the idea,” she said pulling the rubber hair over Reggie’s head.

“That’s just fucking incredible!” Steven exclaimed. “That’s perfect - exactly what he deserves.”

“Um, if I might be so bold,” Sam said from the other side of the room. “If you’re going to go that far, why not go all the way - if it’s possible, of course.”

“Go all the way?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, most dress up dolls that I’ve seen don’t have any nipples, either,” Sam pointed out.

“Oh ja, he is right,” Brigitta said.

Steven turned on Pashir. “Can you do that?”

Pashir pretended to look offended. “Can I do that?” He asked. “Of course I can do that.” He smiled. “Of course, I am extremely offended that I didn’t think of that in the first place.” He turned and bent over Reggie, closely examining his chest. He was smiling as he straightened up. “It seems that young Mr. Manchester is going to be even more cooperative in this matter than I could have hoped. He has nice small nipples which means that the scarring will be minimal.” He turned to Sam and Diana. “Let’s begin - we have some extra work to do now.”

As Pashir went to work, the rest of us retreated to the observation gallery where we found Konrad and Mackenzie waiting for us. Brigitta excitedly told Konrad about the new plans for Reggie. Both he and Mackenzie grinned in delight at the idea of the additional modifications planned for Reggie. I watched through the observation window and on the television monitors, which could show close up images of the procedure. Pashir began with the nullification. He supervised Diana as she slid a catheter into place before making his first incision. Pashir worked well with Sam and Diana - giving them more opportunity to actively participate in the procedure. Even though the three of them had been together only a short time, they all worked smoothly together.

About midway through the first operation, a young slave appeared with refreshments. As he served us, he glanced through the observation window and paled - for a minute, I thought he was going to pass out. He took a deep breath and looked away quickly, regaining his composure as he continued to serve us.

Turning my attention back to the monitor, I watched as Pashir carefully relocated the urethra farther back between Reggie’s legs. He took nearly as much time with that procedure as he did with the rest of the surgery. Once he was finished with the relocation, Pashir had Sam assist him in closing the incision. I noticed that he used sutures for the internal stitches and surgical skin glue on the outer incision. Leaving Sam to apply bandages to Reggie’s groin, Pashir and Diana went right to work on removing the slave’s nipples. I was surprised at how small the incisions for that procedure turned out to be, but Pashir seemed to know what he was doing. I had to admit that when he was finished, almost all traces of the slave’s nipples had been eradicated - only a thin red line remained behind, which Pashir assured us would leave only a faint scar.

I asked the good doctor how long Brigitta would have to wait before she could begin her work on Reggie. He thought for a few moments and suggested that we wait for about a week. He assured me that he’d have Reggie up on his feet by then. That seemed like a good timetable to me - I had a few things to settle with Barry before his isolation began in earnest.

Before leaving the clinic, I placed a call down to the dungeon cells and ordered Barry moved to a procedures cell. “Interested in joining me for Barry’s next phase of punishment?”

The corners of Alexi’s mouth turned up. “What have you planned for him?”

“Oh, just a little something special to demonstrate the fine line between pleasure and pain,” I said.

“That sounds interesting,” Alexi said. “Would you care to elaborate more?”

“And ruin the surprise for you?” I asked in mock shock. “I wouldn’t think of it!”

On the dungeon level, I led Alexi straight to the procedures cell. The chamber was based on a concept of my own - minor medical procedures that didn’t require a complete sterile setting could be performed in the chamber. And, I had had the chamber fitted with some special equipment.

When we entered the procedures cell, Barry was already strapped down on a medical exam table with his legs strapped into stirrups and spread wide. Two bodyguard slaves were waiting patiently off to one side of the room. I ordered them to remove the ball gag from Barry’s mouth.

“Wot ‘ave yew done wiv my bruvver?” Barry croaked as soon as the gag had been removed.

“Relax - your brother is just fine,” I said. “As a matter of fact, when I saw him just a little while ago he was sleeping peacefully.”

“Yew let me go now and I’ll ferget about comin’ after yew,” Barry said.

I smiled and shook my head. “You need to get it through your head that you’re not going to leave here until it suits me,” I said pleasantly. “And, when you eventually do leave here, it will be with a collar around your neck and most likely a ring through your nose.”

“When I get out o’ ‘ere, I’m goin’ t’ fuck yew over,” Barry snarled.

“No, no you won’t,” I said. “But, I am going to fuck you.” I reached into the cabinets and removed a large dildo. “Actually this dildo is going to be doing all the fucking of your ass - but you get the idea.”

Alexi had pulled on a set of latex gloves and took the dildo from me, examining it. He pointed to two metal strips on the dildo. “What are these for?”

“Oh, they deliver an electrical charge to stimulate the prostate,” I said. “The charge can be adjusted from mild and actually pleasurable - or so I’m told - to high and decidedly uncomfortable.” I coated the dildo liberally with lubricant and approached the table.

“Yew ain’t puttin’ ‘at fing up my bum,” Barry warned.

“Sure I am,” I said cheerfully. “Now, take a deep breath because it’s going to be a tight fit.” I carefully positioned the head of the dildo at his virgin hole and began to slowly work it in. Barry resisted, but his resistance was in vain. I ignored his protests and continued to press the phallus forward. Suddenly, it passed his sphincter ring and slid forward easily. I attached the wires to the dildo that ran to the control box on the shelf under the table and turned it on to the lowest setting.

“Yew - yew - Ahhhhh,” Barry gave an involuntary sigh as the first charge hit him and brought a pleasurable sensation to his prostate. Almost instantly, his dick began to grow erect.

I waited until it was fully erect and then nodded to the bodyguards. “Get the milker set up,” I ordered.

“You’ve installed a milking device?” Alexi asked in wonder. “This should be interesting indeed.” He watched with interest as the two bodyguards set the device up. One guard slathered a thick lubricating cream all over Barry’s erection before sliding a rubber tube over his engorged organ.

“I ain’t no bloody animal,” Barry protested.

“Of course you are not,” Alexi agreed. “An animal has more status than you do. You are a slave - that’s lower than being an animal.”

Alexi’s words shocked Barry into silence. He watched nervously as plastic tubes were attached to the chrome tube over his erection. When everything was ready, I gave a nod and the milking machine was activated. I adjusted the machine to its lowest and most pleasurable setting. Then, I gave the order for the bodyguards to attach clear acrylic tubes to Barry’s nipples.

“The tubes on his nipples will create a suction and actually pull his nipples up into the tubes,” I explained to Alexi who was watching with interest. “After fifteen minutes, the pump will begin to cycle the suction levels which will give Barry the sensation that his nipples are being sucked.”

With everything in place and operating, Barry began to moan and sigh with pleasure in spite of his circumstances. His hips writhed against the table as the machines brought pleasure to his body.

I leaned over Barry to look him in the face. “It feels good right now,” I said. “It might even feel good after your second orgasm. But, the machine is going to keep pumping and pumping for the next five hours. It’s not going to stop. After a while, your moans of pleasure will turn to gasps of discomfort?”

I stepped back and watched as the machine did its work manipulating Barry’s erect cock and bringing him to orgasm for the first time. Barry gasped and moaned in involuntary pleasure as he shot his load into the tube. We watched as his cum was literally sucked out of him, through a clear plastic tube to a collection jar. I nodded and one of the bodyguard slaves stepped up and adjusted the milking machine to a faster tempo. Barry continued to moan as the machine continued to milk him, but his moans were quickly becoming ragged as the pressure on his erection increased.

By the time his fifth ejaculation was forced from him, Barry was crying and begging that I stop the machines. My answer to his requests was to increase the electrical stimulation to the dildo.

Alexi pointed to Barry’s nipples, which seemed to fill the acrylic tubes covering them. “It looks like they’re being permanently enlarged.”

“They are,” I nodded in confirmation.

By the time Barry entered his third hour, the milking had become an unbearable torture for him. He sobbed, he begged, he cried for relief. I leaned over him, so that my face filled his entire field of vision and stroked his long hair.

“Listen carefully, you miserable prick,” I said evenly. “You brought this on yourself - you could have just walked away the other night. Remember I gave you the chance to just walk away, but you didn’t. Instead, you did this to me,” I pointed to the bandage covering my right cheek.

Barry’s mouth moved as he tried to form words, but he couldn’t make any intelligible sounds as the milking machine brought him to another dry ejaculation.

“You think this is bad,” I said. “But, it’s just the beginning of your punishment. I have other things in store for you - things that are far worse than this.” Barry shook his head, afraid to even comprehend what else might await him. “Before I’m through with you, you’ll be eager to bend over and take it up the ass. You’ll willingly drop to your knees and suck any and every dick that is shoved in your face. I just want you to think about that while the machine keeps working away on you.”

When I finally ordered the machines stopped, Barry had cried and screamed himself hoarse. The bodyguard slaves blanched when the milking tube was removed from Barry’s dick. The shaft of his dick was raw and bruised from the non-stop suction it had endured. Each of the bodyguards unconsciously reached down to protectively cup their own genitals. To tell the truth, I had the same feeling myself.

“Give him a half hour to rest,” I ordered the bodyguards. “Then, take him down to a holding cell.”

“What’s the plan for Barry now?” Alexi asked as we headed back upstairs.

“Basically, we just leave him alone until his brother is healed,” I said. “His sense of time will be distorted - we’ll fit three days into the space of one and make one stretch out over two. He’ll have no human contact. Food will be slid in through a flap in the bottom of the door and removed when he’s asleep. By the time we return to him, he’ll be totally disoriented.”

“And then?”

“And then, we introduce him to his little brother and let him see the new Reggie,” I said. “At that point, I’ll inform him that he’s scheduled to be nullified as well.”

“That ought to have him right where you want him,” Alexi observed.

“If it doesn’t, another trip to the milking machine should do the trick,” I said.

“And then what happens to him?” Alexi asked.

“Once he’s nullified, he’ll go up for auction,” I said. “I’ve already put the word out among our regular customers that he’s going up for sale.”

“Good for you,” Alexi smiled. “Has anyone shown any interest?”

“Several, in fact,” I said. “In fact, some have asked if we could perform some additional modifications before they take possession should they happen to win.”

“That’s not unusual,” Alexi said. He stopped suddenly. “You know, instead of holding the auction online as we normally do, you could hold a live auction right here. It would make the perfect grand opening event. I could arrange to have some additional slaves brought from other clubs.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” I exclaimed. “That would also be the perfect test for Ingo - if he can handle the catering needs of an event like that without going to pieces, he’s ready for the full-time responsibility of taking charge of all catering services in the club.”

“Are you sure you want to risk that?” Alexi asked.

“I have to know his capabilities sooner or later,” I replied. “Better sooner when I can explain them away as just one of the little bugs of opening a new club. Of course,” I added, “I’ll be sure to have someone ready to take over in case he does fall apart.”

“Smart move,” Alexi said.

Simon demonstrated an uncanny ability at organizing the arrangements for the slave auction. Some of the visitors would be staying in the luxury suites of the club. Others, however, indicated preferences for public hotel accommodations. Simon quietly made the arrangements for their stay with a minimum of fuss. He worked with Ingo to make arrangements for a welcoming buffet and a formal dinner when the auction ended. From what I could see, Ingo was handling the stress of the events very well - although the slave auction was only in the earliest of the preliminary stages and the stress levels were quite low. However, Ingo was responsible for overseeing the finishing touches on the kitchens, various snack bars, and formal dining rooms - and as usual in such matters, there were last minute complications. All in all, though, Ingo seemed to be handling things well.

Nearly a week after having my cheek slashed, Pashir asked Sir Bernard to return to the clinic to check my face. The older physician poked, prodded, tut-tutted, and hawed his way through a thorough examination of his work as I sat under a brilliant light. Finally, he turned the light off and stepped back.

“I must say that you’re healing remarkably well,” Sir Bernard said, removing his latex gloves. “The stitches should be ready to come out in a few more days. You will, of course, have a slight scar.”

“I figured that,” I said.

“There are some techniques that can lessen the appearance of the scar,” Sir Bernard said.

“Such as?”

“Acid peels, dermabrasions and that sort of thing,” the plastic surgeon said. “In your case, I really wouldn’t recommend it. Personally, a scar such as the one you’ll have can add an air of mystique to your appearance. You’re handsome enough that the scar will only make your appearance more intriguing and interesting.” He rolled his sleeves down and busied himself with his cuff links. “Of course, all of those techniques would have to wait until after you’re fully healed.”

“Then let’s see how it looks and decide at that point,” I said, sliding off the exam table and slipping into my jacket. “In the meantime, can I leave the bandage off?”

“I should think there wouldn’t be any harm in that,” Sir Bernard agreed. “I’d like to check out the patient Ali worked on last week, could you join me?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “I need to check on how he’s progressing anyway.”

I led Sir Bernard to the ward area where Reggie was being kept and chatted with Sam as the older physician and Pashir removed the bandages and examined the work that had been done on the new slave. When the bandages over his groin were removed, Reggie began crying softly again.

“He does that a lot,” Sam said softly. “Every time Diana or I change his bandages there’s a fresh bout of tears.” He shrugged. “But, that’s to be expected I guess.”

“Oh do stop that infernal boo-hooing,” Sir Bernard snapped at Reggie. “The deed’s been done and that’s that, you might as well accept it. Besides,” he said looking up from his examination, “I’ve seen the before pictures of what you had before the surgery - it wasn’t at all impressive. You’re much better off the way you are now.” He turned his attention to Reggie’s chest and removed the bandages over each nipple - or where each nipple had been. “Oh, I say - you’ve used Bernoulli’s technique here with amazing results.” He straightened and faced Pashir with admiration. “I didn’t realize that you’ve been keeping abreast of the latest innovations. Good for you, lad! Good for you.”

“The clinic here gets all of the latest journals, and I’ve been following the discussions of the new procedure on the Internet,” Pashir said humbly. “I thought that this was a perfect opportunity to try it out. I found that it really wasn’t all that difficult.”

“You’ve had him on his feet?” Spillsbury asked.

“Oh yes,” Pashir assured his mentor. “I had him out of the bed and walking around the day after his surgery.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Sir Bernard nodded. “Best thing for him - don’t want overdo it, of course, but keeping him in bed all day long isn’t any good, either.” Sir Bernard stared down at Reggie thoughtfully. “I’d give him another five days or so before returning him slowly to normal activities. When do you plan to remove the catheter?”

“I was thinking in the next day or so,” Pashir said.

Sir Bernard nodded. “Just what I’d do if he were my patient,” he agreed. “Remember, to watch for urinary infections and instruct him in proper hygiene - that’s a new habit he’ll need to learn.”

“Of course,” Pashir nodded.

Spillsbury turned to me. “Would it be possible for us to have a small talk?”

“Certainly,” I agreed. “I was going to try out the new café in the Emporium next door. Why don’t you join me?”

Sir Bernard looked slightly uncomfortable. “Will we - ah - be able to speak openly without being eavesdropped upon?”

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems,” I said. “And, if we aren’t able to speak openly, we can pop upstairs to Konrad’s shop. We will be able to talk there.”

Somerset’s Café in the Emporium was the first of the businesses to open. Located right inside the main doors, it was an open shop without walls. The sparkling glass cases were slowly filling with fresh homemade cookies, pastries, and cakes. A huge gleaming copper samovar - a gift from Alexi - stood behind the counter, next to an impressive espresso and cappuccino machine. A young man of about 24 or so behind the counter brightened as he saw my approach.

“Mum! Mum!” He called. “It’s Mr. Duncan.” He leaned over the counter. “I can’t begin to tell ya how grateful we are - givin’ us a chance t’ ‘ave our own place like this. Mum’s been in ‘eaven since the ovens was operational. She couldn’t wait t’ get opened.”

“How’s business been, Tim?” I asked.

“Not bad,” Tim answered. He leaned conspiratorially over the counter. “Truth t’ tell, it’s better’n I figgered it t’ be. Them workmen been keepin’ us busy today.”

A short, stout woman of about sixty came bustling from the back kitchen, wiping her hands on a small towel. “Mr. Masters what a pleasant surprise,” she said, coming up and taking my hand in both of hers. “Now, you and your friend just order whatever you want - it’s on the ‘ouse.”

“I won’t hear it of, Mrs. Somerset,” I said. “I meant to get over here earlier but just couldn’t get away.”

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be able to ‘ave our own business ever since the restaurant closed,” Mrs. Somerset said. “Every bank turned us down an’ you just set us up ‘ere based on nothing but trust.”

“The whole idea of this Emporium is to give local residents a chance to have their own business,” I said. “I’d heard what a great baker and cook you are. I didn’t need to know more than that.” I looked toward the front wall of the Emporium. “I was thinking - what do you think of double doors right there in the middle of the wall opening out onto the sidewalk. You could put a couple of tables out there.”

“That would add a continental flair to the shop,” Mrs. Somerset cooed.

Sir Bernard and I each ordered a tea and slice of pear cake before retreating to a table in the far corner. As we waited for Tim to bring our orders, I watched as workmen from the contracting crew drifted up to place orders. Tim brought our orders and quickly retreated, leaving us in peace.

“So, what’s on your mind?” I asked, sipping the hot, milky tea.

Sir Bernard glanced around before speaking softly. “Are The Dungeons set up to train a slave?”

“That will be one of the many services we’ll offer,” I said. “The club also provides facilities and equipment for Masters who wish to bring their slave to the club. After all, not everyone has the room to build their own dungeons in their homes. And, there are others who may have the room for such facilities, but who maintain a certain amount of discretion.”

“True, true,” Sir Bernard. He toyed with his spoon, shooting subtle glances in my direction. “For years I’ve been content to use the in-house slaves at The Castle rather than taking one for myself.” Sir Bernard paused, as if waiting for me to respond. But, I didn’t. I waited for him to go on. “I - um, I am interested in perhaps bringing a slave into my home and life.”

“Go on,” I said.

“The slave will, of course, need to be properly trained,” Sir Bernard said. “In that respect, I uh - well, quite frankly, I am out of my depth in that area.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” I asked.

“That presents another problem,” Sir Bernard said. “There is someone in whom I’m interested - what I was hoping was in you’d be able to advise me...”

“Is this individual willing to accept becoming a slave?” I asked, interrupting the plastic surgeon.

“I think so,” Sir Bernard said. “But, I would be grateful if you could meet with the young man and determine just how amenable he might be to the whole concept. I can take you to meet with him now, if you’d like.”

I reached up and gingerly touched my cheek. “After what you’ve done for me, I’d be pretty ungrateful to refuse you. I’m at your service. When would you like me to meet with this person?”

“Immediately - if that’s not too inconvenient,” Sir Bernard said. “There is a bit of a time constraint. The young man in question is presently in a ward in St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.”

“How’d you come to meet him?” I asked.

“He was brought in to the Casualty Ward where I treated him,” Sir Bernard said. Seeing my confusion, he quickly explained. “It’s part of the National Health Service, don’t you see. For a fee, I provide my services to the hospital a couple of days a week. I happened to be at the hospital when the lad was brought in bleeding severely. He’d been stabbed several times.”

“So what makes you think he’d be interested in becoming your slave?”

Sir Bernard looked a bit embarrassed. “He’s a ... a ... um, perhaps the best way to describe him...”

“He’s been selling himself on the streets,” I said flatly.

“Yes,” Sir Bernard admitted, looking a bit embarrassed. “He offered ... um, let’s just say that he has offered to perform certain services.”

“He made a pass at you,” I said. “It could be a positive sign. You do know that it is possible that he was just trying to hustle you.”

“I’ve considered that possibility,” Sir Bernard admitted. “But, I’d still like to explore the possibility that there might have been more behind his offer. For that, I’ll need your opinion and possibly, your experience in training him properly - I’ve seen the kind of relationship you have with your boy.” Sir Bernard shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps it’s just the dream of a foolish old man.”

“Maybe it is,” I said. “But, then again - maybe it’s not. There’s only one way to find out and that’s to have a talk with the fellow. Can you arrange that for me at the hospital? In a private setting, I mean.”

“Yes, that could be arranged,” Sir Bernard admitted. “I’ve managed to extend his stay one more day - but, he’s likely to be discharged by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I checked my watch. “It’s a little after eleven now - we’ll meet you in the front lobby at two.”

“We?”

“Simon and I,” I said. “I want him to see and hear this fellow’s story. Simon has a pretty good feel for people. I trust his judgement.”

Just before two o’clock, Simon and I strolled into the hospital lobby and found Sir Bernard waiting anxiously for us. He led us through a maze of corridors to a small relative’s waiting room where he left us. The furniture was the cheap, upholstered furniture found in public waiting rooms all over the world. It was designed to be just comfortable enough to make waiting for news - good or bad, usually bad - barely endurable, but not comfortable enough to make anyone want to stay in the room longer than necessary.

Sir Bernard returned a several minutes later with a skinny young man with a shaggy thatch of mousy brown hair that fell into his green eyes and a scruffy first attempt to grow a goatee. He was dressed in a baggy loose-fitting hospital gown and an even more ill-fitting robe. He looked nervously from me to Simon and back to Sir Bernard, who introduced Simon and me by name. I almost winced. The physician opened his mouth as if to speak, but I held up my hand to cut him off.

“Have a seat,” I said looking the young man in the eye and motioning to a chair across from me. “What’s your name?”

“Billy - uh, William Cosgrove,” the young man said in a delightfully soft and lilting voice.

“How old are you William?” I asked.

“Nineteen.”

I stood up. “Well, I think we can end this interview right here and now,” I said firmly.

“What’s wrong?” Sir Bernard asked.

“He’s nineteen and I’m the Prince of Wales,” I said. “If we’re going to start off with him lying, he’s just wasting my time.” I turned back to William. “What’s your real age? And, don’t even think of lying to me again.”

“I didn’t mean no harm,” William said sullenly. “I’m seventeen.”

I gave a bob of my head and sat down. “That’s better,” I said. “How long have you been hustling on the streets?”

William looked around as if trying to decide whether to flee from the room, but Simon had casually moved across the room and leaned lazily against the door. “About a year now,” William said faintly.

“What about your family?” I asked.

“Don’t have none now, do I?” William said. “And, before you ask - the foster care family they put me with didn’t want anything to do with me when they found out about me being a faggot...”

“I don’t like that word,” I said sharply. “They had a problem with you being gay?”

“Yeh - they tried to pray it out of me,” William said. “When that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of me. And finally, they just turned me out. Said they didn’t want me contaminating their kids.” He snorted. “Like they was any kind o’ angels - them kids done a lot worse’n me when their folks’ backs was turned.”

“What drugs are you doing?” I asked.

William’s green eyes flashed hotly and spots of color appeared on his sunken cheeks. “I don’t do none o’ that shit,” he retorted. He stared me down as if challenging me to call him a liar.

“Why not?”

“I seen what being messed up does to ya, haven’t I?” He asked. “Doin’ drugs is a good way t’ wake up dead - either from a knife in the gut or a bad hit. There’s some who’ll be ‘appy to sell drain cleaner as drugs. And, there’s others who cut their product an’ then one day sell a almost pure hit, won’t they?” William shook his head. “I seen guys kickin’ and screamin’ from a bad hit and others who jus’ never wake up again. I’d rather eat than get high.”

I believed him. “From the looks of you, you haven’t been doing much eating on a regular basis,” I observed.

William blushed again and shrugged. “Doin’ tricks on the street don’t bring in much money - sometimes yew gotta make choices. Gotta eat, find a place t’ kip, even buy clothes sometimes.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know,” I said. “I can help change all that.”

“I won’t do nuffin’ illegal,” he said quickly. “I ain’t goin’ t’ run drugs or steal fer yew. I ain’t got no papers and I ain’t gonna start now.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the irony of the statement. Despite the illegality of prostituting himself on the streets, he didn’t see that as criminal activity because he wasn’t harming anyone else. But, he still had a moral code that said he wouldn’t do anything against others that he wasn’t willing to violate yet. It wouldn’t be long before he either broke that personal code or ended up dead in an alley. I’d be willing to bet on dead in the alley.

“Okay,” I nodded at Sir Bernard. “He’s got potential - go ahead and make your offer.”

William looked from me to the physician and back again in confusion. Sir Bernard haltingly laid out his offer to the young hustler. William wouldn’t exactly be a slave - not the always chained and shackled type of slave anyway. The way Sir Bernard described it; he was willing to take William almost as a house pet to care for. There would, of course, be sexual demands - of course. William listened, his green eyes wide in wonder.

“Is this fer real?” He asked when the physician had stopped talking.

“It’s a very real offer,” I said. “Think it over - you’ll be off the streets and have a nice - hell, a luxurious home. You’ll eat on a regular basis. No one will stab you to take what little you have. And, you won’t be doing anything you haven’t already been doing.”

“Yew don’ fancy things up any, do yew?” William said.

“Why should I?” I smiled. “I don’t like wasting time - yours or mine.”

“I dunno,” William said, slowly. “This is all ‘appenin’ so fast.”

“What’s to think about?” Simon asked, breaking his silence. “On the one hand, you’re living hand to mouth on the street - trying to make enough on a good day to eat what - one or two decent meals and get a cheap place to sleep for the night. How often does that happen for you? I’ll bet you sleep rough more often than not - and you’re belly is empty. And, I’ll bet that half the time when you do have some money in your pocket, there’s someone bigger around who takes it from you.”

William looked at Simon with surprise all over his face.

“What happened to get you slashed up?” I asked before he had a chance to recover. “Did you get desperately foolish and hold out, or resist entirely a shakedown attempt?”

“If it helps any,” Simon said. “Duncan owns me - I gave myself to him and don’t regret it for one second.”

William’s eyes grew big and round again as he stared in open amazement at Simon. “Yer kiddin’.” He said, staring gap-mouthed at Simon who smiled gently and shook his head. “”Yew ain’t kiddin’ are yew?” He turned to Sir Bernard. “And, yer offerin’ me the same thing?”

“Basically, yes I am,” the physician answered.

I stood. “Look, Simon and I are going to find the canteen and give you two a few minutes to talk.” I faced Sir Bernard. “Come find us when you’re finished talking and reached a decision one way or another. If the answer is yes, we’ll take William back with us right away.”

After a few wrong turns, we found the canteen. I had Simon order some coffee and find a place to sit while I found as much privacy as possible by a window in the corridor and called Monk on my cell phone. After a short conversation, I found Simon and waited in silence. At last, Simon looked up at me and said, “He’s got a crush on him, know.”

“What?” I said - Simon had interrupted a mental fugue where I had been imagining beating on the foster parents with a cricket bat. “What did you say?”

“Sir Bernard,” Simon repeated. “He’s got a crush or infatuation with William.”

I smiled. “Yeah, yeah I guess he has. I’m not sure he’s aware of what he’s getting into, but I think it will be good for the two of them. He’s lonely and William - well, you’ve heard what his life has been like.”

I had just finished a second cup of coffee when Sir Bernard bustled over to the table, a look of nervous satisfaction on his face. “He’s decided to give it a try,” he said. “Matron is releasing him from hospital now - I’ll head along and bring him to the main entrance.” He started to move away.

“Sir Bernard,” I said, stopping him in his tracks. “Just so you’re aware - there is no ‘giving it a try’ involved. William has no choice but to commit himself fully - especially if we’re to train him. We have to maintain security for the club, you understand.”

“Of course,” Sir Bernard nodded.

Standing on the sidewalk outside the main doors on Giltspur Street, I looked around and finally recognized the Range Rover carrying Monk and Tom. I gave an exaggerated nod of my head as I reached into my pocket to pull out my cell phone and call our Mercedes from the parking lot. Monk and Tom got out of the vehicle, crossed the street and took up positions near the bus stop. Monk didn’t face me directly, but he stood in such a way that he could see me from the corner of his eyes, which were hidden behind dark glasses.

Simon followed my gaze. “What’s Monk doing here?”

“Insurance,” I said, snapping my phone closed. Simon looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, I intended to snatch him off the street if I needed to,” I said in answer to Simon’s unvoiced question. “He doesn’t know much, but he still knows too much to let him wander around homeless. What little he does know is enough to make the wrong sort curious if he talked too freely.”

I looked through the glass doors into the lobby and watched as Sir Bernard guided William in our direction. I waved unnecessarily as they came through the doors, getting a nod from Monk. Should William try to break away, the big security chief knew exactly what to do. He and Tom could have William subdued and into the Rover in a matter of seconds if necessary with hardly any fuss.

William looked frightened as Sir Bernard brought him up to us. He was dressed in a ragged T-shirt that had seen better days before it had been dumped on a charity shop, dirty jeans and an even dirtier, greasier denim jacket. “That’s all you have?” I asked.

“They took my pack, didn’t they?” William replied his voice an octave higher than it had been earlier.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “You’ll be fitted out with all new things before you know it.” Behind me, a horn honked. Turning, I saw that the Mercedes had pulled up to the curb. “Good, here’s the car,” I said. “Sir Bernard, we’ll take things from here.” I placed my hand lightly on William’s elbow and steered him towards Simon. “Simon will take you to the car.”

I watched silently as Simon took William to the car, turning to face Sir Bernard only after they had both gotten into the back. He was staring at Monk. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s here to make sure William goes where I want him to go,” I said firmly and quietly. “Once you introduced us, all choice for William was gone. But then, you knew that didn’t you?”

Sir Bernard actually smiled. “I saw your reaction when I introduced you by name,” he admitted. He looked longingly at the car. “I don’t know what it is about him - maybe his delicate, vulnerable looks - but whatever it is - I want him. I don’t know whether I actually love the lad, or just lust after him. But, I do want him to be mine like Simon belongs to you. And, one way or another, I usually contrive to get what I want.” He gave me another self-satisfied smile. “I was fairly certain that you couldn’t afford to let him walk away once I made that faux pas and gave your name.”

I returned his smile. “You’re a crafty old bastard,” I said. “I like that.” I shook his hand. “You won’t be able to see William for a while. I’ll contact you and let you know how his training is going and when you can see him.”

“I quite understand,” Sir Bernard said.

As I neared the car, Simon shifted over to the jump seat across from William. I slipped into the back seat and gave the driver a nod. The big Mercedes pulled away from the curb and into traffic smoothly.

William endured the ride back to the club in nervous silence. He alternated casting glances at Simon, out the window, and at me. Once the heavy wooden doors to the subterranean levels of The Dungeons closed behind him, William gave a frightened start and actually began trembling for the first time since getting into the car. I took his shaking elbow and steered him straight to Konrad’s salon.

“Welcome to The Dungeons, William,” I said closing the door behind us. “I don’t see any reason not to begin your training immediately. Strip out of those clothes. If you have anything in the pockets important to you, or that you want to keep for any reason - pull it now, because this is the last time you’re going to see that set of clothes.”

“Wha...?”

“They’re rubbish,” Simon explained. “They’re so dirty that they wouldn’t even qualify as decent rags.”

William gave me a hard look and I thought he was going to refuse the command. Then, with a very slight glint of defiance in those beautiful green eyes, he quickly pulled his clothes off and dropped them in a pile at his feet. He ran a hand through his overgrown mop of hair and held his arms out from his sides slightly. I looked him over - most of the ravages of his life on the streets were clearly displayed on his skinny frame. His skin was stretched tightly over his frame giving him the look of a prison camp inmate. Three fresh scars showed in ugly relief across his right side and belly. He had a fairly nice dick on him - I guessed him to be about six or maybe six and a half inches erect. He had an unusually long foreskin. He’d look better cut, I decided.

The door behind us opened, and Brigitta came in. “Konrad will be here in just a few moments,” she told me. “He apologizes for not being here to meet you - he was tied up with the workmen.”

“That’s not a problem,” I said.

Brigitta turned and regarded William with a cold, appraising stare. His pale face flushed with color and he looked away after a few moments. “So this is the new stray puppy, eh?” She asked, circling him. “My God, he’s cute in a pathetic, abused way. Looks like life has used this one hard.”

“Too hard,” Simon said.

“Any work on this one for me?” Brigitta asked, running a finger along the curve of William’s jaw.

“Not at the present,” I said. Brigitta was getting enjoyment from her light teasing. To his credit, although his face turned various shades of red and he kept his eyes downcast, William remained silent.

The door opened again to admit Konrad and Mackenzie. Both stopped short at the sight of William standing naked in the middle of the room. I noticed that Mackenzie began to reach out protectively and stopped short when he realized that I was watching him closely.

“Now that everyone’s here, I’ll excuse myself,” Brigitta said. “I’ve got some more work to do. I was just visiting Konrad in the Emporium shop when we got word that you had returned.”

“Konrad, you’ve got a hell of a task ahead of you,” I said as Brigitta slipped from the room. “Use all of the tricks of your trade to make him look beautiful again. I want his hair shorter, but not buzzed.”

Konrad studied William intently, running his fingers experimentally through William’s shaggy hair. Without turning away from William, Konrad spoke over his shoulder to me. “What limitations am I under?” He asked.

“Aside from not buzzing his head, nothing,” I said. “I trust your decisions.”

“Okay ... I’ve got a couple of ideas already,” Konrad said. “Mackenzie take William here over to the shampoo station and start by washing his hair. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

“William, go with Mackenzie - he’ll take good care of you,” I said. I watched the young slave lead William across the room and turned back to Konrad. “Do your best to make him beautiful - Sir Bernard wants to make him a house pet.”

“He is beautiful in a street urchin sort of way,” Konrad said softly.

“He is,” I agreed. “Do your best with him.”

“I suppose you want him smooth all over?” Konrad asked.

“Naturally,” I said. “Once you’re through with him, I want him given a thorough medical work up.” I turned to Simon. “Stay with him,” I ordered. “Once he’s finished here and in the clinic, get him something simple to wear and bring him up to the flat. For the next couple of weeks he’s the responsibility of you and Mackenzie. Oh - and involve Malcolm, too. I want him to get some meat on his bones - so, it’s food and exercise for him.”

Simon grinned. “That won’t be a problem. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Oh, and Konrad - talk to Sam and Pashir about having William circumcised later on.”

“Um, before you go, I have something to show you,” Konrad said. “That is, if you can spare the time.”

My curiosity aroused, I followed Konrad into his backroom where he picked up a canvas wig form and held it out to me. I examined the short yellow-blond wig on the wig form. The color was clearly unnatural. I ran my fingers over the hair and found that it felt unnatural.

“It’s for Reggie,” Konrad said, clearly proud of himself. “I got several men’s wigs, cut them into appropriate styles and then coated the hair with liquid latex to give it a plastic fake look.”

I laughed and playfully mussed Konrad’s hair. “You’re a genius, Konrad. It does look exactly like a doll’s hair. You have different wigs, you said?”

“I’m not finished all of them,” Konrad said, blushing. “But, here are a couple of the others.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out three other wigs - one was a tawny orange that had been cut into a long flattop. Another was blue black and styled into a pompadour with a curl directly in the middle of the forehead. The last was chocolate brown and styled in a collegiate shorthaired style. Each had carefully been coated with liquid latex to give them a plastic look to the hair.

“They’re all perfect,” I smiled.

“Oh, and you should see the work Brigitta has done so far,” Konrad said. “It’s really very good.”

“That’s one of the places where I was headed,” I said. “I can’t wait to see what she’s done so far.”

I found Brigitta in the clinic where Pashir was allowing her to work. He wanted Reggie close so he could keep an eye on him for a bit longer. Reggie was strapped to an examining table and moaning pathetically as the sound of Brigitta’s tattoo gun filled the room.

“How’s it coming?” I asked from behind her.

“You tell me,” she said, moving out of the way.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Her work was just incredible so far. She had already managed to give Reggie permanent color to his cheeks. Each cheek had a light, but noticeable pink blush that faded along the edges of the tattoos. She had already stenciled in delicately arched eyebrows that gave Reggie a slightly surprised look to his face. She had been working on Reggie’s lips when I came in - she already had all over his lower lip colored a subtle red - not garishly red, but deep enough to be obvious.

“Brigitta you never cease to amaze me with your abilities,” I said in praise.

“If you think he looks good now, wait until the swelling goes down,” Brigitta said. She pinched his cheek and shook his head. “In a couple of days, he’ll be a living doll.” She leaned closer to his face and cooed. “He will be so fucking cute, yes he will!” She turned back to me. “By then, I’ll have all of this finished and will have his eyeliner tattooed on as well.”

I found Pashir in his office going over notes and told him to expect William. He held up the notes and told me that Sir Bernard had already faxed over all of William’s charts from the hospital and he was prepared to examine the young man.

“Good, he’s malnourished, so he’ll be needing a special diet I think,” I said.

“Not a problem - especially here,” Pashir said. “We’ll have him bulked up in no time.”

“As for Reggie - will he be ready to show off by the time Brigitta’s finished with him?” I asked.

“That depends,” Pashir said. “I’d prefer a little more time to make sure everything is perfectly healed.”

“I just want to show him to his brother Barry,” I said.

“Oh, in that case,” Pashir chuckled. “He’s ready for that now. I presume the demonstration is purely for shock value.”

“Exactly - I want Barry to get a good look of what he’s gotten his little brother into,” I said. “And, I want him to have a little preview of what he can expect to experience himself.”

“You want him totally nullified as his little brother was?” Pashir asked. “Nipples and all removed.”

“No, no I think he’s going to keep his nipples,” I said thoughtfully. “Brigitta will have so much fun piercing them and hanging rings from them. But, his dick and balls come off - you don’t need to be nearly as exacting as you were with Reggie. I want a scar remaining where his tackle has been removed.”

“So you want it obvious to all that his genitals have been taken from him,” Pashir observed. “I’ve been watching the younger brother - he appears to already be accepting his present circumstances. Will it be the same with the older brother, do you think?”

“Reggie is in a state of mental shock,” I said. “He’s going to have some hard times ahead yet before he truly accepts the fact that he’s now a slave for life. He’ll have more than a few visits to one of the punishment rooms, I suspect. As for Barry - well, he should be fairly disoriented mentally by now. And I really doubt that he’s really accepted the fact that he’s never going to be anything but a slave from now on, yet.”

“Do you think he ever will?” Pashir asked.

“Oh yes - he’s not nearly as tough as he makes out,” I said. “Most of Barry’s personality is pure bully - he’s got what appears to be a tough and rugged personality. But, it’s just a shell - when that shell breaks, he’ll break totally.”

“When will that happen, do you think?”

“The first break should come later today,” I said. “But, the crumbling of his façade will come when he sees his brother and discovers that the same fate awaits him.”

I went down to the slave quarters and had Steven trot out all of the available slaves for my inspection. I immediately dismissed all of the muscular slaves as being inappropriate for my needs. Once they had gone, Steven and I wandered down the rows of slender boyish and effeminate slaves. I stopped in front of one young man who had a head full of loose blond curls, long curling lashes, brilliant eyes the color of an Aegean sky, and a sweet, gentle mouth. He couldn’t have been more than five feet tall.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Matthew, sir,” the slave replied in a soft voice.

“Age?”

“Nineteen, sir,” Matthew answered.

“You look more like fourteen or fifteen,” I said.

“Yes sir - everyone tells me that.”

I looked over Matthew’s body again - he had only the slightest hint of muscle definition, which suited my needs exactly. In looks and physical build, Matthew was more feminine than masculine. I nodded. “Come along with me,” I said to him. “You’ve got an enjoyable job ahead of you.” I turned to Steven. “Has Barry been moved yet?”

“He has,” Steven said. “He’s in the torture chamber. Is all that stuff in there for real?”

“Are you asking if the equipment in there is designed to actually be used?” I asked. Steven nodded. “It can be,” I said with a smile. “But, aside from the St. Andrew’s cross, the rack, and restraints tables, most of the things in there are just window dressing.”

“It’s effective,” Steven shuddered. “That place gave me the creeps.”

Matthew looked up at me with a frightened expression. I smiled and patted his curly head. “Don’t worry - nothing where we’re going is going to be used on you. I promise you that.”

Entering the torture chamber, we found Barry chained spread-eagle between two massive wooden posts. Two muscular bodyguards in leather harnesses were putting on a good show of stoking the fire at a blacksmith’s forge and examining various branding irons that glowed wickedly.

“Where’s my bruvver?” Barry called out as I entered the chamber.

“He’s somewhere else,” I said calmly. “In fact, I saw him just a little while ago and he was looking very good indeed. You don’t need to worry about him at all.” I reached out and stroked his hairless groin - the keepers had done a good job of keeping Manchester shaved smooth from the neck down. “No - if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about Reggie at all.” I let my voice grow ominous. “If I were you, I’d worry about yourself.”

“Wot’re yew goin’ t’ do t’ me?” Barry asked, nervously licking his lips.

“That all depends on you, Barry,” I said. “If you cooperate, nothing at all will happen to you. If you don’t cooperate - well, all I can say is that you’re going to find new yourself experiencing new levels of pain that you had never imagined.”

I wandered over to a table on the other side of the room and looked over the equipment that I had requested be brought down. I selected a TENS unit and went back to Barry, holding it up for him to see.

“I’ll bet the people who developed this little device never imagined all the other uses it could be put to,” I said gently. “I’m sure all they really thought about was the therapeutic benefits this electrical stimulation device could bring to patients. But, if the conductor pads are applied to a subject’s penis like so...” I peeled the protective backing from the conductors and applied one to the mushroom head of Manchester’s dick and one on the top of his penis right behind the glans and another in the same place on the underside of his dick. “.... And then the current was switched on,” I let my voice trail off and chuckled. “I bet you can imagine the discomfort that could result.”

Barry eyed the device in my hand with trepidation as he nervously licked his lips. He clearly wanted to say something, but was afraid of daring me to activate the unit.

“Now, we’re going to play a little game,” I said conversationally. “I’m going to tell you to do something - something very simple. If you do it, then nothing bad will happen to you. If you don’t - I’m going to give you a jolt of electricity.”

“W-wot do I ‘ave t’ do?” Barry asked, his voice cracking.

“Well for starters, I want to hear you say that you’re a dickhead,” I said.

Barry’s eyes flashed angrily at the demeaning comment, but then he glanced down at the device controller in my hand. “I a dickhead,” he said sullenly.

“There you go! That wasn’t such a hard thing to do, now was it?” I said cheerfully. “Now, I want you to tell the room that you’re a slave.”

“Fuck that!” Barry spat automatically. He looked horrified the instant the words left his lips and he tried to correct his mistake. But, he didn’t have a chance to apologize. I activated the unit and turned the power dial to half strength. Barry cried out in agony as electricity jolted through his penis. I turned the unit off and then switched it back on again before Barry could even recover. He screamed out in agony again and began trembling.

“Now, that wasn’t what I asked you to say,” I admonished. “Let’s try it again - tell the room that you’re a slave.”

Barry glowered at me, clearly debating defying me. “I-I’m a slave,” he managed to stammer quickly as I moved my finger along the controller.

“That’s a good slave,” I praised him. “Now, let’s try something else. I want you to tell Matthew here that you want to get down on your knees and suck his delicious looking cock.”

Barry shook his head, tears beginning to build in his eyes. “I ain’t no poof,” he said, more than a hint of a whimper crawling into his voice.

I turned the unit back on and dialed the power up to full. Barry jolted against his bonds, screaming as the electrical current surged through his penis. His long hair fell across his face as he jerked around. After a few minutes, he finally managed to screech out the word ‘please.” I turned the controller off. Barry sagged between the posts, crying softly.

“Don’ make me say ‘at,” he begged.

“You’re not only going to say it,” I said firmly. “You’re going to do it. You’re going to get down on your knees and take Matthew’s sweet cock in your mouth and give him a blow job - and, you’re going to swallow every drop of his juice.”

“I can’t do ‘at,” Barry whined. “Please don’ make me do it - do somefing else t’ me, but don’ ‘urt me no more and fer gawd’s sake don’ make me do ‘at.” He looked down at my hand in terror. “Please!” he cried. “I can’t take no more!”

“Nonsense,” I chided. “Certainly you can take more - and you’re going to until you do ask you’re told,” I said turning the unit back on. Barry yowled as the electricity went through the head of his penis again, his body jerked so hard that his teeth snapped together with a clack everyone in the room could hear. The room filled with a foul stench as his bowels emptied themselves. I turned the unit off and let Barry sag against the chains holding him in place.

“no more, no more,” Barry whimpered over and over like a mantra.

I gently smoothed the hair back from his face and stroked his face. “I know, I know - it hurts, it hurts more than you ever imagined anything hurting,” I said softly. “But, you can make the pain go away if you really want.”

“I can’t do it,” Barry said in a barely audible voice. “I just can’t do it.”

“Of course you can, Barry,” I said. “Look at Matthew’s dick - doesn’t it look so delicious and inviting. You know you want to taste how sweet he is - that’s all you have to do to make the pain go away.”

Barry tiredly shook his head. “I - I can’t,” he whimpered.

“I guess this type of inducement just didn’t work,” I sighed as I removed the electrode patches. Barry’s eyes held a faint flicker or triumph while Steven looked at me in dumbfounded surprise. I took the TENS unit back to the cabinet and returned with a metal probe. “Get the generator set up,” I ordered the bodyguards as I waved the probe in front of Barry’s face. “This isn’t going to be as nice as the other one was,” I said. “You thought that you experienced pain before - that was nothing.”

Barry tried without success to swivel his hips to keep his flaccid dick away from me. His efforts were a waste of his time and energy. I grabbed his cock and pushed the sound into his urethra, stepping back to allow one of the bodyguards to attach the electrical leads to the sound. He unraveled the leads and connected them to a hand-operated generator.

“Give him a taste of the output on that thing,” I ordered.

The bodyguard grinned as he eagerly cranked the generator. Barry went rigid as the electrical shock was delivered to the inside of his already tortured dick. He threw his head back, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. Eventually, the scream managed to escape his throat - it was a ululating sound that echoed in the stone chamber. The bodyguard continued to crank away until I raised my hand for him to stop.

The process went on for over an hour - Barry refusing to ask for permission to give Matthew oral sex and one of the bodyguards cranking the generator as Barry screamed in agony. Finally, during one of the breaks, Barry began to whimper and beg for release from his pain.

“Please, please ... no more ... no more ... yer frying my dick off,” Barry sobbed.

“You know what you have to do,” I said coldly. “It’s your choice. The pain can stop right now, or we’ll continue until your dick is cooked.”

“okay ... okay ... I’ll do it ... I’ll do anyfing to make the pain stop,” Barry sobbed.

“What will you do?”

“Yew know,” Barry said.

“Hit him again,” I ordered.

The bodyguard on the generator grinned again as he began turning the crank. Barry’s body convulsed as the shock jolted through the inside of his dick. I raised my hand after only a few seconds and let Barry recover a bit from his latest shock.

“You have to say the words,” I said. “Otherwise, we’ll continue with a larger generator that will fry your dick like a rasher of bacon.”

“I’ll do it,” Barry screamed. “I’ll do it!”

“What do you have to say?”

“Please, let me suck his dick,” Barry wailed. “Lemme suck his dick, please. Just don’t ‘urt me no more. I can’t take no more.”

“Let him down and put him on his knees,” I ordered the guards. As Barry was brought to his knees in front of Matthew, I grabbed the gangster’s hair and jerked his head back. “Don’t even think about biting Matthew or harming him in any other way. You do anything but suck his dick and I’ll have yours cut off right here.”

Tears streamed down Barry’s face as he leaned forward and tentatively opened his lips to take the slight slave’s dick into mouth. Barry gagged almost as soon as the head of Matthew’s dick entered his mouth.

“Suck on it,” I ordered. “Just like it was a sweet - you know how to do that. Do a good job now.”

Barry’s eyes were wide with fear, darting around at the small cluster of people who were gathered around watching him suck his first cock. Finally, he squeezed his eyes closed and managed to get a reasonable rhythm going.

Matthew’s breath began to grow heavier as Barry worked his dick. He looked up at me, “Please, sir - I’m getting close. May I?”

“By all means - released your load,” I said cheerfully. “That’s what Barry’s mouth is for.”

Matthew’s eyes glazed slightly as he shot his juice in the gangster’s mouth. Barry gagged again as the first spurts of cum hit the back of his throat, but Matthew had his pelvis thrust hard against Barry’s chin and he had no choice but to swallow the load. When the little slave finally stepped away from the gangster, Barry collapsed onto the floor in a heap, sobbing.

“That’s just your first taste of dick,” I said standing over him. “But, it certainly isn’t going to be the last one.” I turned to the bodyguards. “Take him back to the detention cells - see that he’s showered and clean.” The guards each grabbed an arm and took the limp, sobbing gangster from the room. I turned to Matthew and patted his curly head. “You did a good job, Matthew.”

“B-but I didn’t do anything,” Matthew said in amazement.

“You played your part well,” I said. “And, that’s all that matters.” I stroked his cheek. “Now, you run on back to your quarters and get cleaned up. I’ll be needing you again in just a couple of hours.”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Steven said as we left the chamber.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you use Matthew - why not just have the bodyguards take Barry?”

I stopped and smiled at Steven. “How big is Matthew?”

“I’d say he’s tiny,” Steven said.

“Exactly - even with guards around, Matthew didn’t pose the slightest physical threat to Barry,” I said. “Even though Barry sucked Matthew’s dick to make the punishment stop, he’s humiliated because of how small and inoffensive Matthew is. He’d be able to accept being forced to service the bodyguards, you, or even me. But, in the deep recesses of his mind, his humiliation was increased because he sucked the dick of someone he’d normally have bullied and abused.” I gave Steven a wink. “That’s going to eat at the back of his mind.”

“But, won’t he be able to rationalize his actions?” Steven asked. “After all, he only did it to stop the electrical shocks to his penis.”

“Sure – his rational mind will provide him that argument,” I said. “But remember, he had to specifically ask to give Matthew a blow job. In fact, he eagerly begged to do it. In the dark corners of his mind that is what will be important – that’s what will create that nagging doubt in his mind that he really wanted to do it all along.”

Steven smiled suddenly. “I understand now,” he exclaimed. “To someone like Barry Manchester, that tiny doubt is more than he can handle."

“Precisely,” I nodded. “And, when we show up in his cell with Matthew in a couple of hours for a repeat performance, he’ll drop to his knees immediately to avoid more electrical shocks…”

“And when he does that, his doubt will grow even stronger,” Steven said.

“Especially when he gets rewarded this time,” I said.

“What kind of reward?”

“A nice hot bath and massage followed by some food.”

“The carrot and the stick,” Steven said. “Reward him for good behavior and punish him for bad.”

“Exactly,” I grinned. “It worked wonders for Pavlov’s dogs. It’s a lesson that even Barry should be able to learn.”

Simon had an idiotic grin plastered across his face when I entered the flat. He took me by the hands and guided me to an overstuffed wing chair that faced the stairs.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Simon giggled covering my eyes with his hands as he sat in my lap.

I took a deep breath, savoring the lingering scent of the sandalwood soap Simon used. I loved the woody smell his body gave off, and was quite willing to have him in my lap as I drank in his scent. I felt Simon turn slightly and then heard him give a sharp whistle.

“Tada!” Simon called, removing his hands.

I blinked at the sight of William in front of me. I almost had a hard time believing that it was the same person I had left with Konrad earlier. Mackenzie was standing slightly behind William, his hand resting on the new slave’s shoulder. The mop of bland mousy brown hair had been cut and expertly styled in a casual Caesar style. William was dressed in loose-fitting sea foam green linen slacks and a matching T-shirt. He looked over at me with a self-conscious smile playing across his mouth.

“Like it?” Simon asked, an impish grin on his face.

“It’s incredible,” I said. “I can’t believe that I’m looking at the same person.”

“I know what you mean,” William said softly. “When saw myself for the first time, I thought I was looking at someone else.”

“Konrad said that William’s hair was more on the red side of the brown spectrum, so he dyed it a deeper chestnut and then added high and low-lights before doing the style,” Mackenzie explained running his fingers over William’s casually styled hair. “Then, he cut it to add more texture to compliment the coloring.”

“Before Dr. Pashir examined him, we got his measurements and Mackenzie and I went out to get William some clothes.”

“So I noticed,” I said. “You look fantastic, William.”

“Thanks,” he said in slight embarrassment, his head tilted down to the floor. “I didn’t know I shined up this good.”

“That good and better,” Simon said emphatically.

“The first thing you need to learn William is to hold your head up,” I said. “Street trash should look down at the floor in shame, but a slave shouldn’t. Keep your head up, and cast your eyes slightly down – but, never lower your head in shame again.”

“Y-yes sir,” William stammered, lifting his head.

“Simon, have him fitted for a posture collar,” I said. “That will help him learn the correct posture for a house slave.”

“I still ain’t so sure about this slave thing,” William said hesitantly.

“It doesn’t really matter at this point,” I said frankly. “You’ve agreed to enter into slave training and be trained you will. Accept that and you’ll adjust nicely.”

“I guess it’s better’n bein’ on the streets,” William said uncertainly.

“Sure it is,” Mackenzie said. “I know – I was there once myself.” He put his hand on William’s shoulder again and gave it a squeeze. “I bet it’s the word that’s giving you a hang up. Don’t focus on the word and you’ll be all right.”

“I guess,” William agreed.

“Just follow the examples Simon and Mackenzie set for you,” I said. “Like anything else in life, the path you’ve accepted will require some compromise and some outright changes to your life.” I gently patted his face. “But for now – we need to get some weight back on you. In case you didn’t know it, Mackenzie is a very good cook.” I made a point of looking at my watch. “For now, I have to excuse myself – I’ve got some work to see to. Simon, if you’ll come down to the office with me, I have some things for you.”

I took the main stairs down to the mezzanine level instead of using the secret stairs. When Simon asked why I didn’t use the secret stairs, I told him honestly that I didn’t want William aware of them just yet. I had hardly gotten behind my desk when Simon spoke.

“You’re worried about William doing a runner, aren’t you?”

“I have to be,” I said. “I’d rather not put him down in detention, but will if it’s necessary. I’m counting on you to keep an eagle eye on him. If he shows the first sign of skipping out….”

“I’ll have Monk blocking the entrances before he gets down the stairs,” Simon finished. “I don’t think he’s going to run, but I promise not to let you down.”

“Good boy, I knew I could count on you,” I said. I moved a couple of folders across the table towards Simon. “I took the liberty of having copies of Sir Bernard’s files faxed over – from what I can see of his activities in Basel, he’s not really into any pain trips. There’s no caning or physical abuse in his files – he’s more into bondage, chastity and cum control and things like that.”

“But, you really don’t think he’s going to do that stuff with William, do you?” Simon asked.

I smiled. “I think the old boy is totally, head-over-heels in love with William,” I said. “That’s what I think – I think he fell in lust at first sight and that it’s already turned to puppy love of the most dangerous kind.”

“Dangerous?” Simon asked.

“Yeah – the kind of puppy love that turns into the deepest of infatuations,” I laughed. I checked my watch again. “I really do need to get back down below. Do your best to keep William in line – let Monk know to have someone ready to move at a moment’s notice if it’s needed.”

Simon leaned over the desk and kissed my nose. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” he promised.

I found Steven and Matthew waiting for me in the detention corridor. Matthew was freshly scrubbed and looking even more appealing than he had before. “Good to see you again, Matthew,” I said. “Do you think you can muster up another load of cum for us?”

The little slave managed a genuine smile. “As horny as I am all the time – I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Good boy,” I joined in his laughter. “This should pretty much be a repeat of earlier today. All you have to do is get an erection and stand there.”

Steven patted Matthew’s groin. “He doesn’t have any problem with the erection part,” he teased. “He’s already halfway there.”

“Well, let’s not keep Matthew waiting any longer than we need to,” I laughed, tapping at the keypad by the door.

Barry climbed uncertainly to his feet as the three of us entered the room. For the first time he didn’t offer any threats. Instead, he watched me with a nervous expression on his face.

“Well, feeling better I hope,” I said as I approached. “We’re here to see if you’ve learned your lesson of earlier.” Barry looked from me to Steven and then to Matthew. His eyes began to well up with tears. “You did a good job – for a first time effort – and Matthew here is eager to feel your mouth around his dick again.”

I fully expected Barry to voice at least a feeble protest, but instead, he tottered over to Matthew and dropped to his knees, tears flowing down his face. I nodded to Matthew who eagerly dropped the skimpy shorts he was wearing to expose his shaved dick. Barry gulped a couple of times – as if summoning up his resolve – before timidly opening his mouth and going down on the little slave’s nearly erect cock. Barry still needed to learn a lot about technique that was for sure. His technique – if it could even be called that – was to keep his lips wrapped around Matthew’s slender dick and slide his head back and forth a few inches in each direction. Still, in his own clumsy way he was managing to excite the small slave. It wasn’t long before Matthew began moaning slightly and moving his hips back and forth, working Barry’s mouth. Suddenly, he stiffened and arched his back as he filled Barry’s mouth with his juices. Barry swallowed the load with a visible effort before releasing Matthew’s dick from his mouth.

“Okay – that wasn’t bad,” I said walking over to Barry. “Up on your feet now – come with us.”

“I done wot yew wanted,” Barry wailed looking around in fright as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Yes, yes you did,” I said stroking his long hair. “You’re not going to be punished, I promise. Just come with us now.”

Barry climbed shakily to his feet as Steven took him by the elbow and guided him from the room. As we moved down the corridor, Barry continued to whine and protest that he had done exactly as ordered. His whining stopped suddenly when we led him into a room dominated by a large sunken bathtub and a massage table. A cloth covered table and chairs sat off to one side of the room. Fragrant steam was already rising from the tub as one of the Dungeon’s slaves poured bath salts into the tub. The slave was totally naked and hairless from head to toe. He gave Barry an inviting smile and quickly crossed the room to take his hand.

“Go on, go with him,” I said in response to Barry’s confused look. “You did what you were ordered to do as well as you were able. You earned a reward – I think you could use a nice relaxing soak. Boy – that’s the slave’s name – will take good care of you.”

Barry tentatively went with Boy. He fearfully dipped a toe into the water as if he expected it to be scalding hot. Finding that it wasn’t he eased himself into the deep tub. An involuntary sigh of surprised pleasure escaped from his mouth as he leaned back and let the water cover him to his chin. Barry gave a start when Boy slid into the water along with him.

Boy immediately began cooing calmly to Barry, urging him to relax as he took a natural sponge and began to tenderly wash the gangster. Boy spoke to Barry like he was a helpless child in a basinette. Steven, Matthew, and I took seats at the table after Steven ordered refreshments brought to the bath chamber.

Boy spent nearly half an hour in the tub, tenderly washing Barry from head to toe. He even shampooed and conditioned Barry’s long hair before leading him from the tub. Opening a heated cabinet, Boy removed a warm, soft bath sheet and gently patted the gangster down before leading him to the massage table and placing him face down on it. Boy was well trained in the art of massage. He expertly kneaded Barry’s neck and shoulder muscles while continuing his non-stop soothing banter. When he finished the massage, he had Barry sit up and then lovingly combed out the gangster’s damp hair before producing a short, thick terrycloth robe. The robe barely reached halfway down Barry’s thighs, but it covered his nakedness and seemed to be a comfort to him.

“Have a seat, Barry,” I said indicating a chair opposite me. I poured him a cup of tea and pushed a plate of hot scones towards him. “Help yourself, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“I-I don’ understand,” Barry stammered after taking a huge gulp of the milky tea.

“What’s so hard to understand?” I asked. “It’s really a very simple concept. You did what was expected of you – that earned you a pleasurable reward. When you don’t do as expected of you, you’ll be punished.”

“So – all ‘at stuff about bein’ a slave was…”

“The absolute truth,” I finished. “You are a slave, so get used to it.” Barry’s face paled and he had difficulty swallowing the mouthful of scone he had just bitten off. “But, that doesn’t mean that you won’t be rewarded for learning your lessons and accepting your new place. Of course, not all of them will be as lavish as this one is. But, you endured a lot earlier and learned your lesson quickly.” I stood. “Tomorrow, you’ll have a new lesson to learn. Take your time here and enjoy yourself. When you’re finished, Boy will summon someone to take you back to your cell.”

“Wot’re yew gonna do t’ me tomorrow?” Barry asked with trepidation.

“Oh, that’s going to be a surprise,” I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.” I turned to leave and then turned back as if I had forgotten something. “Oh, it almost slipped my mind,” I said. “You’ve earned music and television privileges in your cell. And, I’ve arranged for some soothing environmental sounds to play through the night – it should make the cell seem less sterile.”

In the corridor, I scribbled a note on the back of one of my cards for Matthew to take back to the slave quarters with him. In the note, I said that until further notice that Matthew was assigned to me and for him to be ready at all hours for my call.

“Give this to the schedule supervisor,” I told the small slave. “He’ll see to it that you’re out of all other duty rotation.”

“Thank you, sir,” Matthew said, his eyes shining brightly.

“Oh, have you ever fucked someone before?” I asked.

Matthew blushed as he shook his head. “No sir.”

“Well – tomorrow is going to be a first for you and Barry then, isn’t it?” I chuckled.

Matthew smiled shyly. “I hope I do a good job, sir.”

“You will,” I said with assurance. “Now, run along back to your level and hand that note to the supervisor.” I watched Matthew turn and hurry away before turning back to Steven. “Walk with me,” I said.

“I understand the bath and food,” Steven said. “But, what about the television and music? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Do you think so?” I asked. “How else would you deliver subliminal messages to a slave in training?”

“Subliminal messages?”

“Of course,” I said. “They’ll make him more susceptible to accepting the new training. As it is, he’ll still be humiliated as all get out when he has to bend over and take it up the ass from Matthew for the first time tomorrow – especially when there’s a little subconscious message telling him that he really wants to do it.”

When I entered the flat, I found Simon busy showing William how to stand properly with his chin raised and eyes slightly lowered. Ignoring William for a while, I took Simon from behind in my arms kissing and biting the nape of his neck, breathing in his sandalwood aroma. I allowed Simon to twist around in my arms so that we could face each other. Our open mouths found each other and our tongues wrestled passionately until we both needed to break for air.

I surprised William by taking him in my arms for a tender hug and kissing his cheek. Breaking the hug, I ruffled his cropped hair and asked how his lessons had been going.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “There’s a lot to remember – but so far most of it don’t seem too hard.”

“Don’t worry, the harder things comes later,” I teased.

“There’s somefing I don’t understand,” William said. “Simon’s yer slave, yeh? An’, he said slaves wear collars, ‘at’s why I gotta wear this collar.”

“And you want to know where Simon’s collar is,” I grinned. I pulled Simon closer and reached under his collar for the thin herringbone gold chain he always wore around his neck. “Here it is,” I said. “Of course, he’s got several different other collars to wear at other times.” I turned to Simon. “What is it – three leather and one steel collar?”

“Three leather, one nylon, and one steel collar,” Simon said, counting them off on his fingers.

“I know the posture collar is a bit uncomfortable,” I consoled William. “But, you’ll have to continue wearing it almost all the time for two reasons. The first, you need to learn how to hold your head and that collar will make it second nature for you. Secondly, you need to get accustomed to always having some kind of collar around your neck. It might be a simple chain like Simon normally wears, or it might be a more traditional collar. But, you will always have your owner’s collar around your neck in one form or another.”

William’s face went blank as he considered my words while staring at Simon. I let him think things over and joined Simon in the kitchen where we started knocking around preparing dinner. We could easily have ordered a meal through Ingo – the young German was already showing a culinary remarkable flair in his new position, and took every opportunity to prepare meals for Alexi or me. But, Simon and I both liked preparing our own meals together. I pretty much forgot about William as Simon and I got busy at the kitchen work island slicing red, green, yellow, and orange bell peppers. As I was slicing a sweet red pepper, I stuck one of the slices between my lips and turned to Simon – who eagerly pressed his open mouth against mine, biting off half of the sweet pepper while we shared a kiss.

For us, food preparation was generally a unique combination of actually preparing a meal and sensual adventures – breakfast was the best since the two of us were usually half naked. Through our playing, I had discovered that marmalade tasted even better when licked off of Simon’s nipples. And, licking strawberry preserves from his lips always gave the preserves an extra mystical sweetness. Even a drop of Tabasco sauce on Simon’s lips added extra intensity to a shared kiss. It had taken a bit of trial and error with that one, though. Too much of the hot sauce and both of us would be sorry – but just a drop smeared across Simon’s sweet mouth was enough to make an already hot kiss even hotter.

Returning to our preparations, I noticed that William had perched himself on a stool on the other side of the workstation and was watching us intently. I gave him a wink and smile as I added some crabmeat to the salad bowl while Simon mixed malt vinegar, olive oil, honey, and anchovy paste to make the salad dressing. Once he had finished whisking everything together, he dipped a finger into the liquid and held it out for me to taste. I slowly licked his finger, moving my tongue up from where it joined his hand to the tip before sucking his entire index finger into my mouth and sucking on it.

“Needs a little more anchovy paste,” I said licking my lips. “Just a touch – not too much.” I glanced over at William. “How about you slicing the bread,” I suggested. “We’re having a light meal – just salad and sandwiches.”

“Yeh, sure,” William shrugged.

Simon produced a loaf of fresh Italian bread, a slicing guide, and large serrated knife for the new slave. “Just follow the guide and you’ll have the perfect thickness for each slice,” Simon explained. “Do three slices for each sandwich – we’re having club sandwiches.”

William nodded and to my surprise went straight to the sink to wash up before touching the bread. That was a good sign, I decided. While he was drying his hands, Simon started frying up the bacon as I sliced a thick beefsteak tomato. By the time the bacon was finished frying, I had finished with the plate of tomato slices and was working on cracking open three cold lobster tails. William watched with interest as I sliced each of the lobster tails into thick chunks.

“You like lobster?” I asked.

“Dunno, do I?” William said. “I’ve never ‘ad it.”

“Well, in that case, try a slice,” I said, holding a piece up to his lips. William tentatively took the offered lobster and chewed it thoughtfully as he I stroked his smooth cheek.

He swallowed and nodded with a little smile. “I like it,” he announced.

“Which – the lobster or the other?” I teased.

William blushed and offered me a shy grin. “Both.”

I let Simon show William the steps in making the sandwiches – slathering the first slices of break generously with mayonnaise before adding a bed of lettuce and smoked ham before topping that layer off with the second slice of bread. Then came the tomato and bacon, before the third level of more lettuce and the lobster. While they prepared the sandwiches, I mixed Simon’s dressing with the pepper slices and carried the salad to the table.

William tried his best not to wolf down the food before him, but without much success. He glanced around sheepishly as if embarrassed for gulping down his food so quickly. Simon just grinned and reached over to playfully pat William’s belly.

“It won’t be long before we have some meat on your bones,” he teased.

Later that evening, as I was reading the through the newspapers, William came over and stood by my side shuffling from foot to foot slightly. I lowered the paper I was reading and offered the new slave a seat and told him that he should feel free to talk. Instead of pulling over an ottoman or taking one of the chairs, William sank to his knees by the side of my chair.

“Do yew and Simon act like that all the time,” he asked. “I mean – like yer did making dinner – all the kissin’ and touchin’?”

“Or was that just an act for your benefit?” I said, finishing the thought he was afraid to ask. “That’s pretty much the way we are whenever we get the chance.”

William’s face became troubled. “But, yew said he’s yer slave,” William said.

I chuckled and rubbed his head. “Of course he is – but that doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other because we do,” I explained. “And, we like to show our affection to each other. You’ve got to get the image of the field hands or galley slaves out of your head. There’s more to being a slave than that. There are some slaves treated like that – even here. But, I can’t imagine Sir Bernard treating you like one of them.”

“So it’s like all a game?” William asked.

“Oh no – it’s not a game at all,” I said. “Simon had a certain amount of freedom to be sure, but I control everything in his life. I decide when he gets his hair cut, how it is cut – even the color. If I want him naked all day long, then he’ll be naked all day long. He’s given up the ability to make most decisions for himself. He’s given them willingly to me. I, on the other hand, am totally responsible for taking care of him in every way you can imagine. Not just putting a roof over his head – I have to worry about his health, his mental and emotional well being.” I reached out and stroked his soft hair. “And, Sir Bernard will do the same for you.”

The following morning, I had just stepped out of the shower when Simon came into the bathroom with a steaming mug of coffee for me. I took one sip and pulled a face – Simon normally made a wonderful pot of coffee, but this was a little too strong and bitter.

“I know,” Simon said quickly. “It’s not quite what you’re used to – but you like it.”

“I do?”

“Oh yes, you do,” Simon assured me with a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s part of a surprise for you.”

I stared at the mug. “It certainly is a surprise – almost a fucking shock to the system.”

“But pretty good for a first effort, right?” Simon smiled at the confusion on my face. “When I went down to put the coffee on, I found that William was already up and had tried his hand at making the coffee. He made kind of a mess – he’s probably more used to instant powder. But, he figured out how to grind the beans on his own and get the pot working.” Simon smiled at me and handed me my comb. “So, get your hair combed and get your robe on and hurry downstairs while the food is hot.”

Going downstairs in a hooded scarlet robe I was greeted by the sight of William standing next to the breakfast table in the alcove overlooking the river. The table had been charmingly – if inexpertly laid – and a plate filled with at least five slices of French toast sat at place.

“Simon said yew’d be down – so I set out yer plate,” William said. “It ain’t real fancy – but it’s the best I know ‘ow t’ do.”

I crossed to the table, taking Simon briefly in my arms for a good morning peck on the lips and put my arms around William before giving him a kiss on the forehead. Both Simon and William watched as I placed dollop of strawberry jam on my plate, dipped a slice of the French toast into the jam and looked as confident as I could as I placed the fork in my mouth. It wasn’t bad – William clearly hadn’t known that he should add a dash of vanilla to the egg batter, but he had been generous with the cinnamon. William had been generous in buttering the French toast when it was piping hot.

“This is really good,” I said after swallowing. It wasn’t a total lie – as far as French toast went, it was fairly good. Considering that William probably never cooked for himself, the breakfast was really very good. “I hope that you two don’t intend to just stand there and not eat.”

William became galvanized and hurried back to the wide griddle and began dipping fresh slices of bread into his egg batter before dropping them on the griddle where they hissed. It wasn’t long before the two of them were seated and eating with gusto. I had another cup of William’s strong coffee and decided that it really wasn’t as bad as some coffee I’d had before. It was certainly better than the hot liquid mud I’d had at McDonalds on the few occasions that I was foolish enough to get coffee there.

Once we had all finished breakfast, I looked across at William. “To what do we owe the honors?” I asked.

William looked down at the table sheepishly. “Well, I gave what you said last night a lot o’ thought, didn’t I? And, I thought a lot about what I seen when yew two was makin’ dinner last night. Seems to me, it’s a lot like bein’ a family – that’s sumfing I reely never ‘ad, did I?” He looked up at me, his emerald eyes staring straight into mine. “I know that I don’t reely know Sir Bernard real good. But, livin’ on the streets – well, yew learn to read people, yeh? All them other nurses and doctors was polite, but not really kind. Sir Bernard was different – he talked to me like he reely cared.” William rubbed his hands over his face. “Anyway, I done some thinkin’ like I said – and, and I decided I wanted to see if I could have the same kind of relationship wiv Sir Bernard, yeh?

I smiled. “Yeah, I think it’s a pretty good idea,” I smiled back.

To be continued…