PZA: Closing the Books - A Five Little Boy Slaves Story

"I know, Master. But of all the boys we've had, this one really stole my heart. When I think of how sad and frightened he was that first night, I just, just, just 3; He was just so loving and beautiful!"

It took us several days to regain 'normal' activity. Was our house ever normal, with a free person and a life slave who were lovers?

"I've been contacted by a man with a problem, a very big problem," I told my lover/slave. "In fact, two of them. Named Willie and Joe."

"Seems Willie, who is eleven, is completely out of control. Truant, bullies other kids, steals and smokes pot. Joe is ten and is rapidly following his brother into petty crime. So far, he has managed to keep them out of the clutches of the police, but it's only a matter of time."

"He wanted me to take the older one off his hands. His wife is preggers again and he thought he could bring the younger one about. I doubted it and I told him so. I told him it would have to be a 'package deal'. He refused at first, but then gave in. He's that desperate. But I really believe he is more interested in his own reputation than in the two boys. I offered him a three-year contract with an optional extension. He's got piles of money so I mentioned a shameful price and he snapped it up."

"Wait, there's more. At the end of the contract, they go up for adoption by a family of my choice. If they don't work out, they go right to the slave dealer, no questions asked."

"No and I don't intend to make this a first. But it will make Danny seem like a summer outing at the park in comparison, I'm sure. Better get your whips and ropes ready."

"No, you know I can't do that to a kid, I don't care how wild he is. We'll use the marking solution. That hurts bad enough as it is."

"I know. Just pullin' your leg a bit," replied Michael. "Master," he asked thoughtfully, "shall I get Thunder's cart ready for tandem ponies?"

Michael spent the rest of the day getting our facilities ready while I concentrated on getting the proper documents signed and certified. They would be a bit different than others we had routinely had 3; I was, in fact, not only the boys' master, but their guardian as well. Their birth parents had abandoned all claim to them.

It took both of us to get the two hellions stripped and into restraints for the short ride to their new home. Willie fought us tooth and nail 3; I have a couple of bite marks to this day. The only way to stop the screamed obscenities was to gag him. The only way to prevent him from injuring himself was to hog-tie him. Finally, he lay in the cage in the back of our car utterly defeated and sobbing with rage.

Joe was less trouble. Having observed what happened to his brother despite his battle with us, he submitted meekly as we cuffed his hands behind his back and placed him in the cage with his brother.

Throughout our struggle, the boys' father stood by impassively. Never lifting a hand to assist us. Never bidding them goodbye. Never showing the tiniest bit of compassion or love for them. His expression simply said, "Get these two out of our house and out of our lives." I could only imagine what kind of home life these two abandoned waifs must have had.

Arriving home, we released Willie from his hog-tie, but kept his hands cuffed behind his back. Michael took charge of them and the house soon rang with their shrieks as he attacked them with scrub brush, strong soap and ice-cold water. Having gotten most of the grime off them, he conveyed them to the slave pen in the basement telling them, "This is where you will sleep until you have earned the right to be upstairs with civilized people." Holding out two bowls of slave gruel, he continued, "This is what you will have to eat until you earn the right to eat the same food as Master and me. It will keep you strong and healthy. Since your hands are cuffed, you will have to lap it up like a dog. There's a bucket in the corner for you to relieve yourselves. Don't pee on the floor or you will lap it up!" Then he hobbled them with short chains, turned down the light to very dim and locked them in.

I had listened to him on the open mike and gave him a 'thumbs-up'. He had handled it perfectly as usual. I would take the first shift tonight, monitoring them with infrared camera and open mike, as we always did whenever slaves were restrained in the pen. They, of course, didn't know that. We purposely wanted them to believe they were completely alone.

"I don't know, little brother. But, we'll get away somehow. I ain't gonna be nobody's fuckin' slave."

They did try some of the gruel and ended up licking each others faces somewhat clean. But shortly, they rolled together and cried themselves to sleep. Michael relieved me about midnight and we hugged, before he took his post and I went to bed 3; a lonely bed, I might add.

The next morning, more shrieks from the shower before two shaking boys were forced to their knees in front of my chair in the office. "Keep your foreheads touching the floor and do not rise or speak until Master gives you permission. I'm going to uncuff you, but keep your hands in back of you." He had already removed their hobbles, so, except for leather wrist and ankle cuffs, they were completely naked.

"You will wear these cuffs and your collars so long as you are slaves." I told them.

That earned each of them a cut from Michael's short whip accompanied by a yelp from each boy. There was now a nice red welt on each little ass. "When you misbehave, that is how you will be punished. Now, sit up and look at me." Two tear-stained little faces peered up at me.

"You are now my slaves; I own you. You do not have parents any more. You must do what Michael and I tell you at once and whether you want to or not. Unless Michael or I give you permission, you may not speak, even to each other. If you do what we ask, you will not be punished. If you don't understand, you may ask, but that is all."

"I expect you to keep yourselves clean and work hard at the tasks Michael gives you. You will have schoolwork, too. You will be naked at all times and kneel with your foreheads touching the floor to greet my guests. That's called your 'position of respect' and you will go there whenever you wish to speak to Michael or me, too. If Michael or I punish you with the whip during the day, that evening you will receive two cuts for each one."

"But, I don't want to be a slave," blubbered Joe. Michael raised his whip, but I waved him off.

"I know you don't. But it doesn't matter. You will be my slaves until you earn the right to be free boys again. But that time is a great way off."

"Well, I'm not 3;" began Willie, but squelched himself as Michael's whip made contact with his already sore behind once more. Joe said nothing; he was a faster learner.

"Now, Michael has chores for you to do and then you may have some more of that excellent slave gruel. You will be branded this afternoon." The shock of that statement paralyzed them and Michael had to drag them from the room and off to work.

After our lunch, we adjourned to the slave pen for their 'branding'. They stood in front of me shaking so badly, Michael had to steady them. I showed them the branding iron and they nearly collapsed. "I'm not going to use this on you, but you will be marked. It will burn, but not nearly so bad as a red-hot iron."

Michael forced Joe across my lap and held him so I could draw the fox-head on his left thigh. The solution burned as it penetrated his tender skin, but he did not cry out. Willie received his mark similarly. His brother had been brave so he had to be, too. For the first time I saw a glimmer of the friendship, but competition between these two. That would come to be a major force in controlling and training them. "You are now one of my household," I told them.

That evening after receiving their punishment strokes, I called them to me. Taking Joe in my lap and placing my arm around his brother, I said, "Whatever happened today is past. Tomorrow you start with a clean slate. It was a hard day and they will get harder still. But I want you both to know something."

"I think you are both good boys at heart. You simply have not been taught how to live properly. Well, you will learn that from Michael and me. And you will be punished when it is necessary. But understand something. Neither Michael nor I enjoy beating little boys. You may not be ready to believe this quite yet, but we suffer every time we take the whip to you."

They looked at me as if I were barmy. I thought Joe had started to hug me, but he swiftly withdrew, not quite ready.

"Put them to bed Michael," He nodded and led them down to the pen. We did not cuff or hobble them.

That week went about as usual. Two steps forward and one back. By week's end their little asses and the tops of their legs were crisscrossed with welts. Despite the lotion Michael applied at bedtime, they hurt terribly.

Saturday was a particularly bad day for Willie. He earned a total of 16 strokes from me that evening. It was his mouth that kept getting him in trouble. Joe, on the other hand had learned that Willie was not, perhaps, the best role model and had none.

Willie simply lay over my lap while Michael applied the lotion to his inflamed buttocks. When he was finished, I took the defeated and angry boy into my arms and just held him. Joe stood by Michael, fearfully waiting for the outburst he was sure was coming. Willie glared up at me with seething anger. But then his emotional dam broke and he dissolved into tears and bawled like an infant for some minutes. "I'll try to do better, I promise!" he gasped.

"I know you will." I replied. Then, to my utter surprise, he gave me a genuine hug, before trotting painfully off to the pen, followed by his equally surprised brother.

"Yessss!" I pumped my hand. It turned out my elation was premature. The second week was equally hard for them 3; and for my lover and me. I seriously considered forcing them to be pony slaves, but rejected that for the time being, much to Michael's relief.

Friday morning, both boys rebelled and refused to do anything. There is simply a limit after which applying the whip to them only made them cry without changing their behavior. So, we had locked them in the pen in the dark.

It was a miserable day 3; a very discouraging day. But it was about to get much better. Call it fate, divine intervention or whatever you like, a breath of sunshine came bouncing into our house shortly after four o'clock. "Hi, Uncle Marcus. Hi, Michael!"

Author's note: If you find what follows a bit puzzling, you should read Danny's Education.and all will be made clear.

"Danny!" I welcomed him with open arms. "It's great to see you! What brings you here today?"

"Well, I wanted to tell you the news! Billy's going to live with us! His dad took an assignment in South Africa and he'll be gone for seven years. Isn't that brilliant? He didn't want to go, but Dad convinced him it was too good of a chance to pass up."

We both agreed the arrangement was wonderful for him; Billy was his best friend and they loved each other fiercely.

But, then he looked at the floor embarrassed. "And, and, and. Well, I miss both you guys SO much. It's nice to be back with my mom and dad, but I'll never forget all the good times we had together. And all the things you taught me."

"And we'll always remember them, too, little one," Michael assured him. Then he suddenly realized he had not greeted him as a slave should, and started to go to his knees.

"Don't you dare kneel to me!" snorted Danny. "You're family!" All three of us chuckled.

"That's great to hear!" I told him as I took him into my arms and Michael stood back beaming.

"Dad says you have some new slaves. Can I meet them?" asked Danny. I guess he could tell by the looks on our faces. "Not going well, huh?"

I sighed. "No. They're a tough case. They've run wild for years and their parents could not have cared less. I think we got them just ahead of the law."

"The oldest 3; that's Willie and he's your age 3; fights us tooth and claw and his brother Joe just goes along."

"They simply have never had any upbringing or even parental love," added Michael and he told Danny about the scene when we had picked them up.

"No Danny. You were not a twit. Just a sad and frightened little boy whose world had turned about. And there's has too."

"Locked in the slave pen in the dark. Come, I'll show you." We walked into my office where the monitor was located. They lay on their bellies with their hands cuffed behind them, weeping softly. "They were absolutely out of control this morning and it was the only thing we could think to do. They've been whipped so much, there's no vacant skin left on their little behinds, especially Willie's. They just cry but won't give in."

"Gosh! That's terrible!" said Danny. He stood watching them for a few moments and then turned to me. "Uncle Marcus, would it help if I talked to them?"

Michael and I looked at each other. "Master," he said, "it certainly can't hurt. And maybe it's just the thing they need 3; to hear about what they must go through from another boy their age. A boy who has been through it."

"Uncle Marcus, do you remember Frankie and Johnnie? I might have been their only hope. Maybe I'm the only hope these kids have, too. Please, may I?"

"Ok. But I'm going to watch on the monitor. Not that I don't believe you can pull it off, but I certainly don't want you to get hurt. Willie can be pretty vicious."

He looked at them again on the monitor. "Please, Uncle Marcus, may I uncuff them?"

I hesitated for a moment but then said, "All right. But be careful." And I handed him the keys along with an electric torch [flashlight].

Michael gave him a jar of lotion. "Put some of this on their welts, if you get the chance."

He paused only long enough to give each of us a hug and then scampered down to the pen, unlocking the door and entering and locking it behind him.

"I didn't do anything bad. I wanted to talk to you." The two slaves stared at him. "I wanted to try to help you get on with your lives, if I can."

"Some life! We're supposed to be his fucking slaves. Look how he marked us!" said Willie, nodding toward the fox-head on his thigh.

Danny pushed down his jeans exposing his mark. "I have one of those too," he told the amazed slaves.

"No shit! You were one of his slaves? What the fuck did you do to deserve that?"

"I didn't do anything. My dad and Uncle Marcus were slaves along with four other friends when they were my age. Dad wanted me to know what it was like. What it really meant to be a slave," he answered them.

"Well, that fucking sucks!" said Joe. "Your mom and dad must have been real bastards to do that to you."

"Yeah, I thought so at first. I thought my parents didn't love me any more. Uncle Marcus was my buddy since I was little and I thought he didn't love me either. I thought they hated me. And my ass was pretty sore before I decided I was wrong."

"Master Marcus told me I was not being punished, but I didn't believe him at first. He said he wanted me to learn to be a good slave and that life could even be fun, if I did. Well, my ass simply hurt too much, so I decided to try it his way. And you know what? He was right."

They stared at Danny in disbelief. "You mean he told you that he loved you and still beat your ass bloody?" asked Willie. "And you fell for that shit?"

"It was the truth! And after a while, I wanted nothing more than to please him and so I tried very hard. And I was proud to be his slave. He and Michael taught me so much about how to live properly, stuff I might never have learned any other way. And I really did understand how hard it must have been for Dad and the others. Uncle Marcus had been their leader and he became my hero. It was the most exciting time of my life."

Finally Danny moved over to Willie. "I'm going to release your cuffs. Just lie there quietly and I have some lotion for your ass."

"Ow! That hurts! Oh, Goddddd!" squealed Willie as Danny rubbed the lotion on his blistered little ass.

"You know, it doesn't have to be that way if you'll just try," Danny assured him. "It's not that hard! It's not too late to begin. You can earn the right to be upstairs and have regular food."

"I keep trying to tell you that, brother," cried Joe as Danny released him and treated his ass as well. Willie just cried as Danny put his arms around him.

"You know, I had a best friend 3; a free boy 3; named Billy who helped me a lot. We're still best friends and we might be mates when we grow up. You're lucky! You have each other. And, if you'll let me, I'll be your friend, too. And so will Billy I'm sure." He put his arms around both of them and they just cried on his shoulders. After they calmed down, he told them, "Tomorrow's a new day. A new beginning, if you want it. Now, I've got to go." Leaving the torch with them, he let himself out of the pen and came back up to us.

I suppose neither Michael nor I should have been surprised, but we were both amazed at how he had handled them. And we told him so. He blushed, but looked pleased. "I have an idea. Give them a goal. If they behave for so many days, they don't have to sleep in the pen. If they behave for more, they can eat regular food. They need something real they can shoot for." It sounded like a good idea to Michael and me and we both nodded.

After he had gone, Michael and I discussed Danny's idea and decided we would try it with a few modifications.

The next morning, Michael released them from the pen and they took their ice-water showers without complaint. Once they had finished their early morning chores 3; some of the mess was left over from the day before 3; I told them I wanted to see them in my office. About an hour later, two abject slaves knelt in front of me, foreheads touching the floor. I winced at the welts on their posteriors; they must really hurt.

"Please sit up and listen to what I have to say. And you may speak." Michael stood behind them, short whip in hand. I motioned to him to put it away and to sit next to me. Two serious, but hopeful, faces gazed up at me.

"No Master. It's cold and dark and scary!" answered Willie. "Specially when we're cuffed."

"Ok, guys. Here's the deal. If you can do your chores and the other things we ask you to do for four days without either of you being punished, you will have a room up here and eat the same food that Michael and I do. After that, if either of you are punished two days in a row or more than two strokes on a single day, you go back to the pen and slave gruel and start over again. Does that sound fair?"

"Master, we have behaved very badly," Joe confessed, crying. "We don't deserve a second chance. But we will try very hard and your offer is very fair."

"Master, I haven't been a very good example for Joe and I am awful sorry. I will try very hard to be a good slave. Sir Danny told us what he went through and that he will be our friend. I have only one thing to ask."

"Could we have a hug?" Michael and I were quite ready to respond. It had been a while since I had a naked and willing little boy in my arms. Coming after all the chaos of the past few weeks, it was wonderful.

It took them about three more weeks to reach the goal. They occupied the same room Danny had. Michael had equipped it for two boys. And, as in Danny's case, we respected their privacy. When I mentioned that to one of my neighborhood friends, he was aghast. "You let them have privacy? Next thing you know, you'll let them wear clothes!"

Not bloody likely. At least not for a while. Those sexy little bodies about the house were just so beautiful.

As they settled into the routine of our household we observed a few things. Although he was a year younger, Joe was almost the physical equal of his brother. And it was clear he was the natural leader of the two. Both boys had started to grow sexually and it would soon be time to consider that part of my 'curriculum'. They did well in schoolwork and it would not be too many months before school attendance could be considered. Perhaps in the fall.

But, as the weather moderated, it was time for their next big hurdle. Their nakedness around the house became second nature. But, how would they react to being naked in public?

Their first foray was not a complete success, but, on the whole, satisfactory. They had the usual objections to going in public 'au natural', but knew better than to argue. But I had to cuff them to prevent their attempting to hide their boy parts. I warned them they were getting dangerously close to slave pen existence again.

I chose a Saturday and we met the usual assortment of neighborhood people. Sadly, our good friend, Evan, was not among them; he had suffered a heart attack and was now confined to a nursing establishment. But we did meet a couple of free boys their age and that provided some interesting moments.

"Please, mister. Can we play with your slaves a bit?" one of them asked with a smirk on his face.

From their kneeling positions, I saw my slaves both tremble and I told them to stand quietly. Addressing the boy and his comrade, I asked, "Well, they certainly can't play football with you so you mean with their boy parts, right?"

"Because they're slaves and we're free boys. We thought it might be fun to make them squirm."

"Well, if I were to tell you that they are not criminals 3; their parents never taught them how to behave and just abandoned them 3; what would you think?"

"That's right. Do they deserve to have their private parts handled by two strangers without their permission?"

Turning to my shaking slaves, I asked, "Would you give them permission to touch you?"

"Yes, Master," answered Joe. "If that is what you wanted, Master. We don't have a choice."

Turning back to the free boys, "So you see they can't deny you, but I can and my answer is 'No you may not play with them.' They have a very hard life 3; a life of sorrow, work and often humiliation from young boys like you."

"You look like good lads to me. Would you be willing to do something for them to make that life a bit easier?"

They hesitated for a minute and then held out their arms and my two didn't need any more encouragement. Only they couldn't hug back; their hands were cuffed behind them. "Thank you," breathed my two charges.

"You're welcome. And thank you, mister. I guess we didn't think. Thank you for helping us to understand. I hope they are free boys again soon and, then, perhaps we might be friends."

"You can be friends now. Slave and free boys can be friends. You're all just kids, so why not?"

"I'm sure you will," I interrupted. "But we need to get home. Goodbye boys. We'll see you!"

And indeed Darryl and Aaron became fairly regular visitors at our house and several times Michael and I took all four of them, along with Danny and Billy, to the park to play ball. They were all good role models for our boys.

Darryl and Aaron gave each of them another hug, nodded to me and scampered off and we resumed our trek homeward. The looks on my slaves' faces told me they didn't quite understand what had happened.

"Ours," sighed Willie. "Master," he asked , "we both know you would never have allowed them to do anything to us that would really hurt us. But suppose you had said 'yes'?"

"When I was a young slave your age, my master used to take me out for walks. Some people treated me OK, but others did not. The worst were free boys my own age 3; I knew some of them, but that didn't matter. They liked to tease me, pinch me, squeeze my balls, pull my prick 3; even pee on me 3; and all sorts of other things that were humiliating. And my master let them!"

"Since I was a slave for life he told me I had to be prepared to expect that kind of treatment forever. I remember one little boy who pulled so hard on a chain connected to my penis I was sore for days. And he was the little brother of one of the other boys who were slaves with me. But there was nothing I could do."

"You, on the other hand, need to learn how to treat slaves so they have some dignity left. Think about what went on today. Slaves are people, too, no matter what you may have been told. You are both persons 3; yeah, you're in a bit of a hurt just now 3; but all persons deserve to be treated kindly and respectfully. That was the lesson they learned. And out of it all, you now have two new friends to help you on the road to freedom. Just think what a priceless gift friendship is!"

They nodded vigorously. "Please, Master. Will you uncuff us?" I did as they asked and they never again attempted to hide their 'jewels' on any of our walks. I could see the wheels turning in those little heads as we walked on.

That evening after supper, they appeared for their daily 'accounting'. They both were quite sure they had lost their 'upstairs' privileges.

"Please, Master, give us our strokes," requested a sad Willie. They were not happy with the prospect of at least four nights in their 'dungeon'.

Michael and I each took a boy on our lap and I told them, "Today was pretty intense and, on balance, you did quite well. I was very proud of how you handled the two boys. But, if I give you the two strokes you each have earned, you'll be in the pen again and we'll miss our meals together. I know you enjoy our time together and so do Michael and I."

"So I'll make you a deal. I can give you your strokes and down you'll go. Or, we can give you a hand spanking on your bare bum and we'll call it even."

Willie, who was in my lap, stood up and draped himself over my knees. He had made his choice. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

I rubbed the two luscious melons displayed before me to enhance the feeling. They were so smooth and the last of the welts were almost gone. And I began to methodically spank each one.

Willie was soon howling with snot and tears dripping onto the floor. I stopped at thirty strokes and he just lay there bawling. I turned him about and cuddled him and he hung onto me for dear life.

"Master, I'm sorry to have made a mess," he gasped. "I almost wished I had chosen the whip. I'll bet there's a hand-print on my ass."

Joe had been watching this all with very mixed feelings. He wanted to support his brother but had been shocked at how hard he had cried. It must really, really hurt! But, he made his choice and his howls soon shook our house and his snot and tears formed a puddle on the floor beside Michael. The hug and 'cool down' from my lover soon had the boy back to a semblance of normal.

They each cleaned up their mess, bowed deeply and hurried off to bed. I suspect there was a lot of serious discussion that night behind their 'privacy fence'. In the months ahead, there would be much discussion about who could spank the hardest, Michael or me. But they never failed to opt for spanking. The pain was bearable 3; they never could take their hiding without tears, however 3; but the time in our arms being cuddled and comforted afterward was when we all felt closest.

The greengrocer I shopped had a 'pen' where masters and parents could 'park' their slaves and even rambunctious free children while they shopped and I usually left Willie and Joe there until I needed them to carry packages. They were quite content to be with other boys their age 3; slave and free 3; and were especially thrilled one day to find Darryl and Aaron there.

They were both growing rapidly. As my lover put it, "They're getting pretty big 'down there'. We best do something."

I had puzzled for some time how to simultaneously teach two boys 3; for all intents and purposes they were the same age and level of maturity, just on the cusp of puberty. But, before I could act, Joe seized the moment.

Several of the older slaves at the greengrocer had plied them with tales of bedtime romps with their masters 3; not always pleasurable, I might add. One evening just before bed, he asked, "Master, when are you going to take us to bed with you?"

They both looked unsure. I'm sure some of the tales they had heard were exaggerated, but many masters did engage in painful sex with their young slaves. We would swiftly show them that was not the case in our household. Michael and I had agreed we would simply alternate boys until they were comfortable with both of us.

Another new privilege crept in that evening as I told them, "Go and take a hot shower. Don't be afraid to use some soap; it works even better in warm water than it does in cold. When you are 'squeaky clean', Willie, you get into my bed and Joe you get into Michael's, and just wait for us. Now move!"

They hurried off to comply, leaving Michael and me standing. "Well, I suppose I can survive so long as I have a little one to warm my bed," he sighed in mock resignation.

"Don't start that song!" I chided him. "This is serious business." He giggled and I joined him a few seconds later. "Just take it slow and easy and let them explore tonight," I declared for the benefit of both of us.

When I crawled in beside my naked little bed-mate, he was trembling. Not since that last night with Danny had I had a little naked boy in bed with me and I spent some time reliving all those exciting feelings. But I had a new little bed-mate who wasn't at all sure he wanted to be there.

"Are you g-g-g-going to hurt me?" he asked shaking. Damn those older slaves! What kind of nonsense had they filled my boys' heads with?

"Come here, little one," I called him to me and held him close. "I will never knowingly hurt you while we're in bed together. Both Michael and I want our bedtimes with you to be full of fun and pleasure for both of you. Michael and I will try our best to teach you about sex. We'll practice good sex 3; the kind that is fun 3; and talk about the bad sex 3; the kind that hurts 3; so you can avoid that."

He looked at me wide-eyed. "You mean sex can be fun for me, too? It's not just pleasing you, Master?"

"Yes, my dear little stud-muffin. The slaves who told you otherwise were trying to scare you."

"Just remember; your bodies belong to you. No one has the right to make you do something that is unpleasant or painful in bed with them."

"That's true. But Michael or I will never force you to do something sexual that you don't want to do. And someone who wants to have sex with you must have my permission, even if it's just to tease you or touch and play with your boy parts."

"As a free person you would have the right to refuse sex if you are not comfortable with the person or if he wants you to do something painful. And, as far as Michael and I are concerned, you are already free boys when it comes to sex. In our family, your bodies belong to you. Just promise me you'll try the things I suggest and I can promise you you'll have more pure pleasure than you can possibly imagine."

I began to stroke him, paying particular attention to his nipples. He gasped and, after a while, moved my hand down to his prick. I don't think he was 'with it' after that until he crashed down from his first-ever orgasm. He hugged and kissed me and only wanted to know how he could make me feel that good, too.

While sex with Michael was special, sex with a little boy had an allure all its own. It would be the first of many nights 3; actually until they left sometime in the future with a new family.

Michael and I taught them everything we knew 3; every way they could give us pleasure and receive pleasure from us in return. It turned out they both really liked oral sex and that was fine with Michael and me. A tender moment was reached when they each filled our mouths with their cream for the first time.

We talked about the bad parts, too. Fucking turned them off big time, especially after I had plunged my finger gently up each little ass. I didn't tell them that I had actually liked it from Michael when we were much younger. We talked about rape and its dehumanizing effect, whether perpetrated on male or female. And they readily agreed it was the worst thing one person could do to another.

Occasional four-in-one-bed nights punctuated our evenings and we made certain they knew how to pleasure each other, too. But it was all kept contained. We made sure that sex wasn't the only thing in life. Just an 'important' thing, same as eating, breathing, learning and other 'important' things. And we discussed finding mates, male or female, in the future.

They were now well into puberty and each had the beginnings 3;OK, just a few hairs 3; of a respectable little 'bush' above their cocks, so we gave them each a small slave covering to be worn in public. That pleased them; it was a sure sign of our recognition of their growth. With or without their covering, they were rapidly becoming very attractive young teens.

For some reason, the police inspector in that district decided the greengrocer was concealing runaway slaves and raided him, sweeping up all the slaves and free boys in the pen, stripping them and hauling them off to the local lockup. We 3; masters and parents both 3; were held in the store at gunpoint for several hours. By the time we were released, the kids 3; including several little girls 3; had been thrown into a common cell and locked in for the night. We were told to come by in the morning.

How I avoided piling up the car on the way home I shall never know, but I arrived roaring with anger. After Michael had managed to calm me down long enough to be coherent, I told him what had happened. A call to my friend Chief Inspector Lewis was scant help as the incident was not in his district. But I made sure he knew both slave and free children had been taken, and he assured me he would immediately contact the authorities in both Richmond and London.

The next morning I joined a considerable crown of enraged parents and masters outside the police post demanding their kids' release. The entire district police force had barricaded themselves in the building and only the timely arrival of a SWAT team from London prevented bloodshed. We learned later the district force was distraught because of the death of one of their number at the hands of a runaway slave and used that as license to beat and abuse these slaves, not realizing they had also abused free children as well.

The kids 3; both slave and free 3; were swiftly reunited with their masters or parents.

As the room cleared, I spotted Willie and Joe crouching in the corner with another boy 3; whom I was horrified to discover was Aaron Cohen 3; and swept them into my arms. Joe had a black eye and numerous cane cuts on his back, stark evidence of his attempt to protect his brother and Aaron with his own body. Under the law that was all he could do. As I gathered up my two, another man 3; an orthodox Jew by his dress 3; took charge of Aaron. I had never met him, but was sure he was Aaron's father.

Willie was even more battered. "Master!" he bawled in my arms, "what have we done? Why were we punished like this? Oh, it hurts!"

"You did nothing wrong," I comforted them. "This whole thing is a terrible crime, a blot on all of us." I set Willie down and we started to walk to my car but I noticed he was walking funny and I suspected the worst. "Are you all right?" I asked him. "Did they?????"

"Yes, Master. They raped him! More than once! And they did it to the little girls, too." asserted Joe starting to cry. "He didn't want me to tell anyone. He was trying to keep them off the two little girls! He tried hard, but they just raped him instead! And then Aaron tried to save him and they beat him, too. I couldn't do anything to help!"

"Not true," I assured him. "You helped by shielding them with you own body and taking the blows meant for them." I stopped and took Willie back into my arms and he began to sob 3; deep, gasping sobs. I held him close and just let him cry himself out. I'm sure the physical pain had been terrible enough, but the shattered emotions were far worse. But, at last he stopped and looked up at me.

"Willie, if there had been any way I could have saved you from this, I would have done it. You did not deserve that; no child should have that happen. The men who did that to you will be punished."

Actually, save for the fact that several free kids were part of their prey, they could have gotten off with demotions and reassignment. They couldn't even have been charged with 'interference' since police are exempt from that statute. As it was, they were speedily sacked, arrested and charged with assaulting a free person. Unfortunately, the two little girls were not free children or they could have been charged with child rape and hanged.

"I know you would have, Master," he blubbered. "I knew you would come for us. I knew you would save us from worse. But you are right; it hurts awful!"

As soon as I got them home, Michael and I examined Willie thoroughly, coming to the conclusion that his anus had been cruelly stretched but not torn. There was some blood, but no real physical damage to his little hole. He would be sore, even with the salve Michael applied to him and both of them would be sore from their numerous cane cuts.

But more potentially damaging were the injuries to their emotions. Willie, particularly, was despondent 3; he had been raped and was now somehow 'unclean' because of that. When I took him into my bed that night he was trembling and rigid 3; and not from physical pain as I was very careful not to aggravate it.

"Please, Master!" he wept, "if you don't want me in your bed any more, I'll understand. I'm dirty! I'm not worthy to be here with you!"

I had feared he might see things that way and it nearly broke my heart. "Willie, beautiful Willie, my wondrous slave boy, why would I not want you in my bed?"

"Because he raped me, Master," he sobbed. "He used me like a whore! I'm dirty. I have his stuff inside me. I'll never be clean for you!" And he just cried and cried.

I sighed. "I won't insult you by saying that nothing has changed. We both know you're not quite the same boy you were. But you're still Willie, still the wonderful slave boy I love and that hasn't changed. Michael and I still want you in our beds, of that you may be certain. We want to help you and Joe move beyond the pain of this terrible time. Will you let us?"

"But God is punishing me for the way I used to live and for the terrible things I did when you first 3;"

"Willie! Listen to me.! You were not being punished by God. He forgives you, just as Michael and I have. God forgives us all when we are sorry for the bad things we have done."

"When he was a young boy, Michael did a very bad thing. He sold drugs to kids. That is a very serious crime and the penalty is slavery for life. Many people have forgiven Michael and would like to see him free. Certainly I have and nothing would make me happier. But humans are not as forgiving as God."

"The men who raped you and beat you and Joe are bad men and those who want to keep Michael enslaved are just as bad. You are not 'dirty' and you are not bad. Please believe me!"

I was rapidly becoming 'undone'; frustrated that I seemed unable to give this child the comfort and love that he so desperately needed just now. I had done my best, so perhaps I had been able to reach him after all. For he hesitated a second but then reached for me. I held him close until he cried out the hurt and frustration of the terrible day. And we fell asleep in each others arms.

When I awoke the next morning, I knew he felt better 3; his lips were wrapped around my prick and his was poking me in my chin. We both had beautiful early morning crème.

As we soon found out, the most seriously injured kid was their friend, Aaron. He had tried to drag the brute who was raping him off Willie. Another of these thugs in uniform bashed Aaron in the face with his club, breaking his nose, cracking one of his facial bones and knocking out several teeth. Aaron would be star witness number one in the assault case against them.

As soon as their friend was out of hospital, both boys begged me to take them to see him. "Please, Master. Take us to see Aaron. He was hurt 'cause he tried to help me" pleaded Willie. "I need to thank him!"

Rebekah Cohen was surprised, but not put off, when I appeared at her doorstep with two naked young slaves who asked after her son. A devout Jew, she had a decidedly different opinion about slavery than most of our countrymen. Her ancestors had often been in that condition going back to the time of Moses.

"Mr. Shay. This is indeed a pleasant surprise. And you," indicating the two boys kneeling before her," must be Joe and Willie. You are most welcome in this house."

I nodded and they rose. "We are mere slaves and are very honored, Mistress, to be invited into your home."

This could get dicey, so I told them, "Slave discipline is off, 'til we leave." I could tell she felt better about that, too.

"I'm happy to tell you," she began, "that Aaron is healing well. The doctors at hospital say he will be fine with rest. They were even able to implant several teeth for the ones he lost. Let's go and see him; he'll be delighted you came. I must warn you, however, he doesn't look very nice just now. His buddy Darryl was here this morning and he cried a good bit when he saw Aaron."

We entered what was unmistakably a 'boy's room'. Aaron was lying in bed on his back and my two charges immediately ran to him. One look at his horribly disfigured face forced them to their knees as they started to sniffle. "Please don't cry," Aaron begged them. "Darryl did enough of that for one day." Even though it must have hurt, I could see he was smiling.

"Aaron, Sir! See what your friendship with us has done to you?" began Willie. "You 3;"

Aaron looked at me for a moment, but then answered Willie, "Because you're my friend. I don't give a fig if you're a slave. That's what friends do. We try to help each other."

I let the potential breech of slave discipline go by without correction. In reality, they could not have aided either Aaron or Darryl physically against a free person without serious repercussions, and they knew that. But, it was a 'teachable moment' and I was not going to spoil it.

"Please call me Rebekah. I guess it must be several months since Aaron and his friend came across you and your slave boys out for a walk. He came home that day profoundly excited 3; it was as if he had learned some eternal truth straight from Yahweh. He and Darryl had two new friends. They were slaves, but it didn't matter! His father and I had been trying for some time to help him understand that Yahweh looks with kindness on all his people and that includes gentiles and even slaves. You taught him that simple truth, Marcus, and his father and I thank you. In hospital he told us how one of your boys tried to shield him from the worst of those evil men."

"He said your boys had been abandoned by their parents and you took them in and were teaching them how to be good slaves so they could be free boys once more. That intrigued us and we asked about and discovered that you had done that with others. Some you led away from a life of crime. And others you taught how to be good citizens so they could be free persons once more. Even your own nephew?"

"Well, Danny isn't really my nephew," I explained. "His father was my best friend since we were in diapers. He and I suffered an unjust slavery together. And he wanted his son to know what we went through. What it was like being a slave. It was very hard for me to be Danny's master. He and I had been buddies almost from the time he was born and I found it almost impossible to be the strict master he deserved. I simply loved the little guy too much."

She studied me for a moment and then nodded, "Yes. You are one of the 'six'; I'm sure of it."

I nodded. Since Sebastian's book and the film, we were somewhat famous, although we made little of it.

"Yes," she continued, "I was sure of it. It shows in your manner and concern for both my son and the terrible hurt both he and your two slaves must have suffered. You are what we sometimes call a 'mensch'," she declared with finality. I knew what the term meant and there was no greater honor she could have conferred upon me.

That fall, we decided they had come far enough along to abandon home study in favor of public school attendance.

Per our agreement with the school district, that meant full-day attendance and they had to wear clothes. So, I got them both some simple shorts and shirts sets. They had been naked for so long it seemed strange to them to be wearing clothes again. There were already several other young slaves in their class, so their appearance at the beginning of the fall session was accepted as routine. And they soon made friends with the other kids in their class.

To comply with the requirement that they be under control of a free person at all times, I took them to school each morning, handing them over to Mr. Larson, their teacher. He also coached the football [soccer] team and begged me to free them so they could be on his team. Both boys, it seemed, were gifted natural athletes. But I could not free them as their statutory time had not yet expired and they were not permitted to participate in extra-curricular activities. Larson sighed and went away sad. But they did well academically and he always had words of praise for them.

I enlisted Danny and Billy to bring them home after school. Willie and Joe would sit in their classroom quietly working on their homework until football practice was over. Then the four of them would walk to our house. It gave Danny and Billy a ready excuse to visit and Michael was always ready with after-school snacks. And occasionally Danny and Billy got to stay for supper. "Good!" declared Danny's father, Timo. "You can have the task of trying to fill up those perpetually empty stomachs."

As the weather grew colder, I had considered whether to buy them jackets or sweats, but Willie and Joe assured me their light clothes were adequate. Got to be 'macho' you know. Unknown to them, I bought them each a set of sweats anyway. But they didn't have occasion to wear them since, in the worst weather, I did meet all four after school and drive them home.

That fall and winter I also made sure they both knew how to swim. I'm not sure why it seemed so important; maybe I was being prescient. Our local municipal pool 3; after a bit of prodding 3; agreed to allow me to bring them after hours and we spent many a late weekend night there. I need not have been concerned; they swam like young eels.

But spring blossomed as it always had and Michael and I decided a week-end camping trip was in order. I did provide the boys with sturdy boots as I didn't want them to injure their feet on the rough terrain we would be traversing. The weather during the day had turned warm enough that they were comfortable in only their slave coverings. Chopping wood is a great way to keep warm in the cool of the evening, and the wood-stove in the cabin I had engaged keep the rather chilly night at bay.

Michael and I each had a warm sleeping bag equipped with our very own bed-warmers, so sleep came early and comfortably. The only problem was getting our two bed-mates to forsake their warm cocoons in the morning. "Out!" I yelled, pushing my reluctant companion into the rather frigid interior of the cabin. "Get the fire built and we'll all have breakfast." It was comical to watch them scamper about gathering wood and getting things started, but they never once complained.

I did feel a bit guilty in my warm clothes as they sat next to the stove shivering. So, I dug out the hidden sweats and gave them to my little icicles. They accepted them, but did I see a look of disdain on those little faces?

By the time breakfast was over they could again be outside in just their slave coverings without discomfort.

But I had planned a little 'test' for them. There was a small rowboat at the dock on the lake which fronted our cabin. "Come," I told them. "We're going out on the lake. Leave your coverings and boots here; I don't want them to get wet." They looked puzzled but did as I asked. I showed them how to row and we were soon quite a distance out on the lake. I had them stop and ship the oars.

"Ok," I told them. "You get to swim back." The shock on their faces was profound. This particular body of water had been frozen over only two weeks prior to our visit.

He grit his teeth and jumped. He surfaced in a few moments screaming at the top of his lungs, "It's too cold! I can't stand it! Let me back in the boat! Please, please."

"Nope," I answered his pleas. "The way out of the water lies there," I told him, pointing to the shoreline in front of our cabin. Joe had sat there paralyzed, so I picked him up and threw him in. He, too, surfaced sputtering and screaming.

"You better save some of your breath and energy for swimming," I advised them. Seeing I was not going to rescue them, they grimly set of for the distant shore. I followed behind; if they really ran into serious trouble, I would pull them back into the boat.

During their transit, when one of them flagged a bit I heard the epithets 'sissy' and 'pussy' bandied about. But in a relatively short time, they dashed up onto the stony beach and into Michael's waiting arms.

By the time I had tied up the boat, they were thawing out in front of the stove with huge cups of hot chocolate.

"You were never in any danger. I was right behind you and the lake really isn't that deep." He wasn't quite convinced but knew better than to argue.

"I was trying to teach you something, so, tell me," I continued, "what did you learn?"

"That water is fricking cold!" Joe burst out. Then he looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry." I would let his outburst go without punishment. "At first, I didn't think I could do it! The water was so cold. But then, I saw Willie was having some trouble and I needed to encourage him and help him. I knew you wouldn't let us drown, but it became a matter of honor to do what you asked."

"And I needed his encouragement," confessed his brother. "But then he needed my help, too sometimes."

"I guess not!" he replied. "'Cause I realized Joe was depending on me and I was depending on him and together we could do it. I needed him to push me and he needed me to push him." A look of amazement spread across his face. "That was the whole idea, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was. Separately, you might not have made it. But together you could do it. You supported each other and always will." The lesson was taught and it was time to get back to having a good time.

That night in the warmth of our bedroll, Joe told me, "This was an important day, Master. I guess we never thought how important we are to each other before. But you showed us!"

"Yes," I told him. "And when it is time to choose a family for you, I promise you will never be separated."

He heaved a great sigh. "I guess that means you won't be our family once we are freed, doesn't it?" And he dissolved into tears.

"Little one, don't be sad or frightened. Michael and I have come to love both of you very much, but you need a family that can love you and inspire you and give you a good life. An exciting life, a better life than Michael and I can give you. And I will search until I find that family. But you and Willie will always be close to our hearts and the two of you will have the final say."

He wiped his tears and what he said next warmed my heart. "I trust you, Master; we both do. You will do what is best." And he snuggled down and was instantly asleep.

When I told Michael about our conversation the next morning, he was pragmatic. "Well, Master, they had to know sometime. But, perhaps not quite this soon." I just hoped it had not spoiled our weekend.

I had actually started to put out feelers several months earlier, even though the indenture still had three months to run. I could have easily placed them individually, but no one, it seemed, was interested in two young slaves.

But, one morning Timo called me all excited. "Marcus! I think I have found a family for your two boys! There was a retirement party at the restaurant last evening for Vice Admiral James Mountbatten and his wife. You know, Lord Ismay. He's leaving the Royal Navy after a distinguished career and they might be the very ones you are looking for."

"See, they've purchased and are outfitting a sloop and intend to sail it around the world. He mentioned he was looking for two young boys he could train as deckhands, but I kind of got it from his wife's comments they were really looking for boys they could adopt."

I knew of Mountbatten's record 3; who didn't 3; but a retired naval officer? Might be too old! "Well, I'll certainly check them out. Thanks for the tip," I told my friend.

The next day I took the train to London where Mountbatten received me at his office in the Admiralty. He was a distinguished looking man, vigorous and in his prime 3; my doubts about his age were immediately put to rest. "What can I do for you Mr. Shay?" he asked.

"My! Word certainly spreads quickly. By the way, please use the title 'commodore'; it's what I'll be known as once I leave here at the end of the month. I never did like 'Lord Ismay'. Makes me sound unduly important."

"Well, actually a bit more than that," he chuckled. "Elizabeth has had four miscarriages so we had decided to put a family on hold until my naval service was over."

"Sir, I have two young boys serving an indenture and I believe they might fit your situation," I told him. "They are brothers, eleven and twelve and are really outstanding students and eager learners."

"Hmmm!" he replied. "They're the right age, but we had hoped to find two available free boys. I guess there are not many of those around. How did they come to be enslaved?"

Ok, he was willing to call a stone, a stone. "They were abandoned by their parents."

"Under the terms of the indenture, I am legally their guardian and am obligated to find a family for them before they can be freed. Would you and your wife be willing to meet them?"

"Why don't you and Mrs. Mountbatten come for dinner next Friday evening? I assure you they will astonish you."

I hurried home with mixed feelings; happy that I may have solved the problem, but sad to think these two little guys we had become so fond of, might be soon gone from our lives. I asked myself a question,"When we took boys for training, were Michael and I setting ourselves up for disappointment when they left us?" I well remembered the pain and emptiness we had both felt when Danny returned to his parents. "Perhaps it was time to close the books on this venture and find a boy who could be my son 3; and Michael's, too."

I was purposely mysterious to the boys about the 'visitors' who were coming to dinner, but I'm sure they knew 3; or at least speculated. I brought out the tunics that Danny and Billy had worn when they were serving and, together with new silver-colored slave coverings, they looked fabulous. The tunics were just short enough to nicely show off their shapely legs.

When our guests arrived, I made sure to introduce Michael and he started at once to go to his 'position'. "Please," spoke up the Commodore, "you are in your own home. Is this really necessary? I know, it's part of the discipline, but really!" Michael was shocked, but pleased, and I was beginning to like this man more and more.

When my two charges came in with the appetizers, I watched Mrs. Mountbatten's face.

With the love that only a mother can show, she was smitten. For most of the rest of the meal she was in sort of a trance. Finally her husband grinned at me and asked her, "I trust you find the service satisfactory, my dear?"

She sort of jumped and then sheepishly smiled, "Oh yes! Quite!" And we all laughed.

After dinner, we all sat in the living room for a pleasant visit. I had Michael, of course, join us and it was he who suggested, "Master, the little ones did such a fine job serving, perhaps they might join us?" Good thinking! After they poured our coffee I had them return and sit one on the floor on either side of me.

The Commodore asked them about their life with us, their schooling and their hopes for the future. Both he and his wife seemed pleased with what they heard.

I could tell they were both a bit frightened by that prospect. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, boys," I told them. "They have not made a final decision and, more importantly, you haven't either." And then I told them about sailing 'round the world and, in their excitement at that prospect, they forgot to be frightened.

But, no one slept well that night 3; even though we were all together in the big bed.

The call came early the next morning. "Your boys were just marvelous! I'm sure Elizabeth would have taken them home with us if I had let her. The Endeavour is completely finished and stocked and we thought to take a little maiden voyage to Guernsey, next weekend 3; it's about a six-hour sail from Plymouth. Could they come with us?"

And so it was on the following Friday morning Michael and I drove them to Plymouth Harbor. Lying ready to sail was Endeavour, as beautiful a small sailing vessel as can be imagined. Except for the fact that I get terribly seasick, I could have wished to be in the boys' places.

"I'm scared!" admitted Joe. Somehow they knew how much was at stake 3; how much their future depended upon the next four days. "What if we screw up?"

"You won't," I assured them. "Just be the polite and eager little slaves you have become, and you'll be fine. I'm sure the Commodore will work you hard to see what kind of stuff you are made of, but you're used to that. Together there is no way you could fail."

"Well, slave discipline is off for us," I replied, "but you do whatever he wishes." I guess that wasn't much help, but it was the best I could do at that moment.

Commodore Mountbatten and his wife stood at the top of the gangway, both smiling broadly. He had assured me that he had suitable sailing togs for the boys, so they scampered up the gangway barefoot and clad in only their slave coverings. At the top, they hesitated for a second and then faced the Commodore and saluted and two voices piped, "Permission to come aboard, Sir!"

"Permission granted!" replied their surprised host. Elizabeth stepped up and took them in hand, leading them down into the vessel. I saw Michael's barely suppressed smirk; he had obviously been doing some coaching.

"Very much, Sir!" I answered him, ignoring Michael's whispered, "Don't get seasick."

Imitating our two young charges, I too, observed proper protocol at the top of the gangway and was duly welcomed aboard.

She was a trim vessel 3; just enough space for all the necessities 3; but comfortable too. As we started down the companionway, we met two young recruits coming up, now properly dressed in sailor's working denims. "Look! Uniforms!" chirped Joe. "And we have our own wee room," added his brother.

Endeavour was truly a beautiful ship. But, alas, I would probably have been hanging over the rail before we cleared the harbor. I thanked him and retreated to the dock.

Michael and I left. Somehow I wasn't in the mood to see our two boys sailing away, even if it was just for a long weekend. Michael and I spent most of the time in bed. "How were the boys doing? Did they like James and Elizabeth? How did they like the boys?" kept playing in my mind. Patient and loving as always, Michael just held me. But, I was certain his thoughts were similar.

Late Monday afternoon, an Admiralty car delivered Willie and Joe to our doorstep and they came thundering into the house, shouting all at once, their babbling making little sense. I finally had to shout above the din, "WAIT A MINUTE! ONE AT A TIME, PLEASE!"

"It was just awesome," his brother joined in. "We got to pull up the anchor and wrap up the sails 3;"

"And scrub the deck and polish all the brass 3; my gosh there's a lot of it. And I even got to steer," added Willie.

"You twit!" admonished his brother. "That's called 'taking the helm'. Don't you remember anything the Commodore told us?"

"Well you should stop calling it a stairway," rejoined Willie. "It's a companionway!"

I finally managed to ask the question that was foremost. "What did you think of the Commodore and Mrs. Mountbatten?"

"And Mistress Elizabeth!" Joe began to cry. "She took us both in her arms and held us and I don't think I have ever felt that good. It's different than when you hold us."

"Why couldn't our real mother have been like her?" Willie lamented, tears running down his cheeks. "Do you think we have a chance?" Every young boy needs 'mothering' and these scamps were no exceptions.

But suddenly Joe hung his head sadly. "But, if we go with them, we won't be with you!"

"You're going to do what is best. And know that we will always love you no matter where you are," I answered them.

We didn't hear from the Commodore for another day, twelve hours and forty-eight minutes. The boys 3; well, all of us 3; were irritable and jumpy.

OFFICE OF THE VICE ADMIRAL ADMIRALTY SQUARE LONDON

To the honourable Marcus Shay, and his bonded servants Michael Lang, William Sanders and Joseph Sanders:

Greetings,

His Grace, Lord Ismay, requests the honor of your presence at The Navy Club, London, on Friday next at five o'clock in the afternoon. Dress uniforms.

(signed) Ronald W. Stone, Captain
For the Vice Admiral

And with the message were two boxes containing regulation dress navy seaman's 'whites' complete with piping as Able Seaman. Michael and I, it seemed, would have to clothe ourselves. Well, it was a fine excuse for both of us to have our first formal attire.

We drove to London the day before and I took rooms for us at The Charles Dickens, a small hotel in Lancaster Gate. We had a gala orgy that evening.

When it came time the next day to dress for our invitation, there was some discussion among the youngest in our party about the necessity of wearing shoes, but Michael and I managed to turn them out all dressed up and looking marvelous. "Do we do our positions?" asked a nervous Willie.

"I should think not." I replied. Truthfully, I had no notion of the proper protocol for this situation.

The marine at the door of the Navy Club, examined our invitation and handed us off to a young rating who took us immediately to a private room on the upper level.

Waiting to welcome us was the Commodore, resplendent in his dress whites and gold braid, and Mrs. Mountbatten in an exquisite blue gown that took my breath away. Within a few minutes we were all seated and chatting like old friends. The boys, for their part, recounted again how much they had enjoyed the weekend.

"You know, I had them do every task a regular seaman must perform 3; some of them not much fun, I might add 3; and they never so much as blinked," reported their weekend host.

"They are just marvelous boys," added Elizabeth. "And so appreciative of the little amount of loving I could give them."

The boys actually blushed. I really can't tell you what we were served, but they surely liked it. "Quite a few steps up from slave ration," I thought.

After dessert 3; I remembered that, Bananas Foster 3; the Commodore, studied the two carefully. "William and Joseph, I have a very important question to ask you."

"Will you honour me by becoming a full crew member of the Endeavour? And, when your indenture has expired, will you do Elizabeth and me the honour 3; the very great honour 3; of becoming our sons?"

The room was silent for a moment and then two little boys breathed, "Yes. Oh yes." I can tell you I felt both joy and sorrow at that moment.

Finally, our host continued, "I should let you all know a few things. The Endeavour belongs to us 3; and now shortly to these two fine young men 3; but our voyage is being financed by the Royal Geographic Society. We will be taking films along the way and you two will be the young stars of this epic. Don't let that go to your heads! The Society will have a film crew aboard from time to time."

"Marcus 3; and you, too, Michael 3; you have our undying thanks and admiration for rescuing these two 'orphans from the storm' as it were."

"I should like to sail on the noon tide next Wednesday, if that is convenient. My solicitor will be by with the necessary papers on Monday if that suites."

But somehow, we got it all together and were on the dock at Plymouth at 10:00, Wednesday morning. Danny, Billy, Darryl and Aaron had come along to bid their friends goodbye. Did I detect a slight look of envy on four faces?

We all got out of the car and Willie and Joe 3; sorry, Able Seaman William Sanders and Able Seaman Joseph Sanders 3; shook hands with Michael and me 3; and then threw themselves into our arms one last time.

Straightening their whites and hefting small sea-bags 3;the rest of their kit, books and a few games had been brought on board yesterday 3;they marched up the gangway, saluted smartly and were duly received. They disappeared down the companionway and shortly returned in their work denims and stood waiting for orders.

"Aye, aye, Sir!" They pulled the gangway on board and stowed it neatly and then stood at the fore and aft mooring lines.

The Commodore skillfully used the inboard engine to move the ship into the outgoing traffic lane, accompanied by a cacophony of greeting from every vessel in the harbor.

"Let go the mainsail!" And two little seamen ran up the ratlines like monkeys going after bananas. In a moment or two the great, white sail was unfurled and filling with the fresh wind. As they moved toward the harbor entrance, two small figures stood in the crow's nest waving frantically.

Author's note: Will we hear about their adventures on the high-seas? Perhaps they will share with us, but just now we have other tales to be told in this story.

Chapter 2
Freedom at Last?

Unfortunately, I was unwisely looking for another Danny. There wasn't another Danny. But I kept looking and who knows how many otherwise deserving boys foundered on those shoals. I somehow always found a reason why 'they were not Danny' and, thus, discarded them.

But before I could stumble too far down that treacherous path, another way with profound meaning for our lives opened for Michael and me.

One Saturday morning, Michael was busy doing some much needed repairs and painting in the attic when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" I shouted, not wanting to disturb his efforts.

Opening the door, I beheld a somewhat smaller and younger version of my lover. I frowned, puzzled.

"You don't remember me, Mr. Shay. You were there when my parents begged your father to take Michael. I was there, too. I must have been about ten-years-old. I'm Paul Lange, Michael's brother."

That I was shocked is the understatement of the year! "My God! After all these years! Please come in! We never heard from any of you after Michael was enslaved."

"I know," he replied, sorrowfully. "Father forbade any contact. He said it was too painful for Mother. But, as I have learned recently, that wasn't the real reason."

I recovered my wits sufficiently enough to turn and shout, "Michael! Come here quickly! You have a visitor."

Covered with plaster dust, he stepped into the room a few moments later. "Who is it? Who 3;" He stared at his brother for a moment. "Paul?"

"Yes, Michael. I'm here." Paul held out his arms and Michael started to go to him, but suddenly stopped short and went to his 'position.'

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I did not greet you properly," he told his long, lost brother. I could see the pain on Paul's face.

Turning to my lover, I said, "Michael, you may rise and be one of us." He did and immediately fled into his brother's arms.

"After you were taken away, Father was adamant that we 'forget' you. I didn't have a brother any more! I'm ashamed, but I guess that was the way I started to feel. Mom was never quite the same again after she found out your sentence was for life. Father became tyrannical and beat me for the slightest thing. And Mom acted like she didn't love me any more either. So, as soon as I was old enough, I took my degree in architecture and moved to North America, I guess mostly to get away from Father."

"But, I've been back here in England for several months. Father was killed in some kind of drug deal gone bad. And, for the first time, Mom and I learned how he really made all his money."

"He was the brains behind the largest ring of illegal drug dealers in all of Great Britain! He used his connections on the council to protect his little empire. But, worst of all, he had been behind the scheme to force you to sell drugs. He wanted to ensnare you so you would have to be part of the enterprise. The business about saving me from harm was all made up. But the authorities spoiled his plan."

Michael and I sat there in shocked silence. His own father! He had been sold out by his own father! I was sure Mike, my father, had never known or he would have treated him much more humanely, like he did the rest of us.

"When she found out about the lie we all had been living, it was more than she could take. She retreated into complete senility. She's with the Sisters of Charity, now and they care for her lovingly."

"But I haven't come here just to give you all the bad news," Paul went on. "My solicitor believes that, since you were led into crime by your own father, you might have your sentence reduced. That you might be freed."

Then my lover began to sob. "Master has given me a new life, a good life, a life with dignity. And I am content to serve him until the day I die. Freedom is not for me! It is too much for me to bear."

"Yes!" he finally admitted after sobbing for several minutes. "I want to be free and I am so ashamed. You have given me so much and still I want more. I yearn for freedom and it's not fair. It's like I'm ungrateful for your love," he wailed.

I pulled him into my arms and told him gently, "Michael, every human yearns to be free. It's part of what makes us human. Certainly I did when I was a slave. Only the hope that I might be free someday despite what my father told me 3; all of us 3; kept me from despair. You are not ungrateful; you are just being human."

Finally, he got himself together and looked at Paul. "Do you really think it might happen?"

"I don't know, Brother. But my solicitor thinks it could. Isn't it worth a try?"

Paul stood up, retrieved a thick packet of papers from his brief and handed them to Michael. "Here is all the information my solicitor put together. When your petition is heard, I will appear in person, if it will help. Don't lose hope, Michael. Your day is coming!"

That evening, after Paul left, I held Michael tenderly in our bed. He was shaking and I could tell he was frightened. "Be strong, my lover," I counseled.

"Just be yourself," I answered. "Be courteous and enthusiastic and steadfast, just as you always are. You have done marvelously as my registered slave and being free isn't that much different outwardly. It's just that the shame and sorrow and petty annoyances are gone."

"Michael, my love, those who know you 3; really know you 3; will not only accept you as a free person but will rejoice with me that your unjust situation has been removed. Yes, there will be some who do not approve, but that is their problem. And remember, I will always be here for you."

"What your father did to you was despicable!" he agreed. "I'll certainly prepare a petition for manumission, but I'm not sure we will prevail in court. But don't lose heart; it's not the only avenue we have for redress."

Two weeks later, we stood before the Lord Chief Justice. Michael was in chains, but did not have to bear the added humiliation of nakedness.

"I have reviewed your case meticulously," Justice Holmes told us. "That you were betrayed by your own father while you were a yet child of tender years is simply hideous. I have searched for a way to set aside the conviction or mitigate the sentence. But, unfortunately, I have found none. That law is quite specific and leaves no chance for extenuation. While I personally agree you were done a great injustice, I cannot set aside it's provisions or unmake the law."

"It is with much personal sorrow that I must tell you that your petition is denied."

Despite Sir Robert's warning, the ruling was a blow to both of us. Michael was desolate and ready to give up. Only Sir Robert's steadfast belief that we would ultimately prevail kept us going. "I'm going to petition the Crown for clemency. I have a good friend on the Privy Council and he has agreed to lay your petition before the King. Be of good heart! We're going to win this!"

We didn't hear anything for several weeks 3; several weeks of turmoil for both Michael and me. But, one morning, a messenger delivered an official dispatch from Buckingham.

PALACE OF BUCKINGHAM
LONDON

To the Honourable Marcus Shay of the District of Richmond.

Your petition for the manumission of your Registered Bonded Slave, Michael Lange, has been received by His Majesty and studied forthwith.

You are, therefore, summoned to Buckingham Palace on Wednesday Morning next, at ten o'clock there to await the pleasure of His Majesty. The subject of your petition must appear at that time in shackles.

Charles Albert Hoskins, Chief Equerry.

Accompanied by Sir Robert, we arrived on time. The footman who met us, escorted us to a parlor and saw that we were comfortable 3; at least as comfortable as we could be, realizing that this might be Michael's only chance. Sir Robert was optimistic, but neither Michael nor I were inclined to be so, having seen our hopes dashed by the High Court.

We had been there about 15 minutes when an usher took Michael and me to His Majesty. Sir Robert would wait for us.

To my surprise, we met him in a small study. I guess I had read too many historical novels and expected a large hall filled with courtiers and important personages, with the King sitting on a throne. He was actually sitting behind a desk.

He beckoned us forward and I stood in front of him and bowed deeply while Michael went to his 'position'.

"Mr. Shay, please bid your slave to stand," he directed me. I nodded and Michael got back to his feet.

"I want you to know at the outset, that we are quite familiar with your history, Mr. Shay and that of your slave. And we are appreciative of the work the two of you have accomplished by your steering young boys away from potential lives of crime and onto the road of freedom and worthy service as our valued subjects. We know that Michael has been your strong right hand and support in that effort. You both have our grateful thanks for your devotion to that cause."

"Unlike some of our predecessors, we have never believed that we rule by some amorphous divine right over our subjects. Rather, it is our subjects who determine what is good and proper through their elected representatives in Parliament. And we deem it a sacred trust to support and nurture that spirit."

"Your petition for the manumission of Michael Lange, rests its foundation on the premise that, as a child of tender years, he was led into a nefarious crime by his own father. Yet the act under which he was convicted is quite precise and makes no allowance of extenuation."

I was not feeling well at all and neither was Michael. I could tell he was trying very hard to keep from tears. Were we to be denied again? The King studied both of us again evidently realizing our state, and held up his finger.

"A former Lord Chief Justice, Baron Hewart, almost a century ago, put forth the doctrine that 'Not only must Justice be done; it must also be seen to be done.' It is abundantly clear that justice has not been done and it certainly was not seen to be done. Michael, please come and kneel before me."

"Now, therefore, I, William Arthur Philip Louis of the House of Windsor, King, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain and Ireland and of Our Empire beyond the seas, do absolve you, Michael Lange, of any and all offenses against us and our people and restore you once again to the ranks of free yeomanry, to be conditional on this date and made permanent one year from this date. Rise and take your place as our free subject."

For a moment, Michael hesitated 3; he found it hard to believe what he had just heard 3; but he rose and stood with shock on his face.

"Mr. Shay," the King continued, "it is not proper that a free subject should stand before his king in chains. Please remove the fetters from your former slave." And he got up from the desk, walked to where I stood and handed me a key.

My hands shook so badly, I could hardly act, but the shackles soon were on the carpet. Michael threw his arms about me and wept like a little child. And, to our utter surprise, William embraced us both.

Once we had recovered sufficiently to be rational again, the King motioned us to some comfortable chairs and he joined us.

"Your Majesty," gasped Michael, "I had hoped you might reduce my sentence, but a full pardon? Never in my wildest fantasy did I ever begin to think of a pardon."

"If I had simply reduced your sentence or overturned your conviction, it would widely be seen as a slur on the court. The law under which you were convicted is, in my view, flawed. But it is the law, nonetheless. Lord Holmes acted entirely properly in upholding the law as it is written. Parliament may, one day, correct that flaw and I shall speak my piece to encourage it. But that time has not come and the sanctity of both the law and the court must be upheld."

"But, as your monarch, I have the power to look beyond the confines of the law and say, in effect, 'This person failed to receive justice under the law and I will remedy that for I believe him to be a valuable subject. And thus, I will right the scales of justice and pardon him.' It's one of the few ways I can directly intervene to better the lives of my people."

We rejoined Sir Robert a few minutes later and related what had happened. "I thought he might take that approach, but I wasn't sure. How do you feel, Michael Lange, free subject of His Majesty?"

The ride home was quiet as we each strove to understand, what this new status for Michael meant for each of our lives. Bidding Sir Robert goodbye and thanks again, Michael and I decided to make a visit to an old and dear friend before telling the other members of the 'family'.

Evan Carouthers was now at hospice, his physical condition having greatly deteriorated in the last several months. But his mind was sharp as ever as we told him what had happened.

"Jesus, Mary and all the Saints! That be indeed good news! The last of Mike's slaves now be free and the books be closed on that chapter. I told Mike when he was near his passing I would live to see all ye freed. He doubted: but then he doubted when I told him you be his son, Marcus. I'll be after correcting him when I see him next. 'twont be long, now I recon." He roused himself to give Michael a hug and I saw the tears shining in in his eyes. A good and great friend would soon leave us 3; the very next day, to be exact.

Our next stop was at the Belvedere, where we told the young hostess that we needed to talk to Timo at once.

He emerged from his kitchen a few minutes later looking annoyed 3; he had been in the midst of preparing for the evening supper crowd. He looked back and forth at the two of us standing there grinning broadly.

"Michael has something he wants to tell you," I announced to my best friend of many years.

Timo stood there in shock for a moment. The he swept Michael into his arms and shouted, "WHAT WONDERFUL NEWS! IT'S GREAT! IT'S STUPENDOUS!"

"We've got to have a party! I'll close early tomorrow evening so we all can celebrate. The last of Mike's slaves is now free. Wait 'til I tell Jenny. And Danny! Oh, he'll be so proud!"

Sebastian came up from London. Chris and Jan were there with their new son! And Timo and Jenny and Danny and Billy. It was quite a night and Michael was almost done in by all the hugs and well wishes 3; that, and a little too much wine. The next morning he had his first ever hangover.

Three weeks later, the 'family' met 3; as had been our custom 3; to remember my father's passing. Six young men around the table in my parlor, joined for the first time by a young teen 3; the first member of the next generation. His wine was thoroughly watered, much to his chagrin.

"To Mike!" I proposed. "Who loved us all and kept us safe. And to the two of our number, Nico and Julian, who are with him in that far off land to which we all will go some day."

"I never knew Master Mike, but I know if he had not saved my dad, I wouldn't have been born. So, he saved my life, too. But, I would like to honor someone else who saved my life when I was hurt so bad."

"To Michael! You will always be my hero! You were like a big brother to me when I was in training. Along with Uncle Marcus you taught me what a wonderful thing freedom is. And now you, too, are free." And he stood there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Michael got up, went to Daniel, took him in his arms and held him close. "Thank you, little one 3; sorry, you're not little any more. But, now, I truly feel free."

Chapter 3
How to Choose a Son

Characters chapter 3 and 4:
Marcus, a former slave now free and a businessman; Michael, now free and Marcus's lover; Robbie (11yo), Marjorie McGreggor, teacher; Peter (11yo); Elizabeth Berg, Peter's mother.

Michael's transition from slavery to freedom meant that we could pursue a civil union under the law, one of a whole host of things his new status allowed. For me, it was the tangible declaration of the love we had shared for so long. The 'family' knew us and always had supported us, but outsiders did not know about our unusual relationship. Never again would it have to be in secret.

At first, Michael was decidedly nervous about being out in public. But he soon discovered that most people accepted him for what he was and welcomed him wholeheartedly. The 'family' had always welcomed him without reservation as did our neighbors who had watched his plight with sympathy for so many years.

And now our search for a son would be for a boy who could be our son as there was no doubt in either of our minds that he would be the boy's father just as much as I.

We happened to be in London one Friday. I had gone there on business the day before and had Michael come down on the train and meet me Thursday evening, intending a holiday of sorts. We would stay the weekend at our favorite small hotel, The Charles Dickens in Lancaster Gate. We slept late and spent much of the rest of Friday morning giving ourselves to each other. But, finally hunger drove us out and we dressed and went to find some lunch.

Strolling down the Embankment after stuffing ourselves with fish and chips, we were watching all the other strollers, when we both spotted a naked young boy 3; obviously a slave 3; running towards us being chased by a red-faced constable. "Stop!" he shouted. "Don't make me use this!" as he waived a stun gun at the boy. The boy ignored him and kept on running 3; right into my arms. He was a scrawny little mite, but it took the both of us to wrestle him to the ground and hold him until the constable arrived and caught his breath.

"Thank you, Sirs. My back-up is on the way. I suppose you wonder how such a small boy could get away from me? Well, you've not had to deal with the likes of Robbie North or you'd not be surprised. I was taking him in for formal sentence. Now it will have to wait 'til Monday."

Indeed we had heard of Robbie North; it had been in all the newspapers and on the 'telly'. The boy had been found living on the streets several years ago and had managed to escape from 'care' dozens of times. But, now he had been sentenced by the court to Class 3 (Lifetime) Slavery for beating up a much older free boy 3; no matter that the teenager had been trying to rob him.

Two burly constables arrived and strapped the screaming and struggling boy to a transport board. At last secured, hand and foot, he simply lay there, all the fight gone out of him.

He was a good-looking little chap with dark hair and cool gray eyes. When I gazed deeply into those eyes, the look of fright and anger I saw there nearly drove me to my knees. Michael was similarly affected, but he obviously had seen something I had missed. With thanks, the constables left carrying their burden and Michael and I resumed our stroll.

My lover was very quiet as we ambled on. I could tell he had been shaken by the encounter with the boy; how much, I would shortly find out. Leading me over to a bench he indicated I should sit and he sat beside me. "Marcus, I think we should try to save that boy."

"Marcus", he replied, "I have never asked you for anything like this. But this is different. He's worth saving and much, much more." I looked at him like he was daft. And what he said next almost convinced me he had gone 'round the bend.

"Marcus, I saw the same anger and fright you saw," he continued. "But I saw something else beneath all that. Despair and a desperate longing just to be loved. I could see the abuse he has experienced and it makes my treatment by your father seem pale in comparison."

Michael had always been a keen judge of character and I had come to rely on his insight when considering a new customer for our investment business. But this child a candidate to be our son? No way! No how! And I told him so. He cringed as if I had struck him 3; and maybe I had, emotionally. He started to tear up. "Marcus, please. I beg you! Won't you even consider it?" I was much too upset to even answer him. Taking my silence as rejection, we walked back to our hotel in silence.

We lay on our beds, each in turmoil. I felt abandoned! Alone! And he obviously felt the same way. Finally, I could not stand it any longer. Rising, I went and lay down beside him and gently enfolded him in my arms. "Forgive me. I know I've hurt you and I'm sorry."

"I don't know. I just do! Trust me, Marcus. If we don't save him it will be our future that will be lost as well as his." Somehow I knew he was right. Don't ask me how or why. It's what's called a leap of faith.

I picked up the phone and called our solicitor, Sir Robert McDaniel. When I explained to him what we wanted to do, his only question was, "Are you sure?" I looked at Michael and we both nodded. "Yes," I replied.

We spent the weekend with Sir Robert preparing our petition and negotiating with the Slave Authority. We insisted Robbie be registered as Class 2, not Class 3 and that caused them some distress, but they finally agreed. In turn, they had some rigorous conditions they insisted upon before they would even consider our purchase of him. One of the conditions frightened me: if, for any reason, we failed to adequately prepare Robbie for full citizenship within three years, he would revert to Class 3 and Michael's and my status as free persons might be at risk.

I balked at that. "No Michael! It's too much to risk. After all we've been through!"

"Marcus, you have given me everything: unquestioned love, a life of dignity, and my freedom. I simply wish to give those same things to a frightened and abused little boy. Besides, I have no intention for us to fail." Those words from my lover thrilled me to my core and I was ashamed at my timidity.

Monday morning, we appeared at the court in time for Robbie's sentencing. Sir Robert, our solicitor, had petitioned that we be allowed to enter the case as Amicus Curiae. At first the judge was skeptical, but the Slave Authority had no objections, so he allowed our petition to proceed.

The Judge studied our petition and asked, "Mr. Shay and Mr. Lange, are you sure you know what you are doing? This little monster has escaped from care innumerable times, beat another boy almost to death, is a thief and has resisted all efforts at civilizing him."

Before I could answer, Michael spoke up, "Yes, Your Honor, but we believe that he can be saved."

"Mr. Lange, I am quite aware of the other boys you and Mr. Shay have brought out of slavery into freedom. But no one can civilize this child. Better for you 3; indeed for the whole realm 3; that he should serve out his life at hard labor."

The representative from the Slave Authority spoke up, "If it please the court, we have negotiated an agreement with the petitioners that adequately protects the public." And he handed the Judge a copy of the agreement.

After studying the document for some time, the Judge asked, "Are you both aware that if he escapes or you are unable to show progress in preparing him for freedom, you will both be held accountable? And you are willing to post a substantial bond to secure this agreement?"

"They are, Your Honor," broke in Sir Robert. "I am absolutely certain they appreciate their obligations under the agreement and will fulfill them."

"If it were any other solicitor who came with such a petition, Sir Robert, it would be laughed out of court. But I know you well and you would not have come here unprepared. I will adjourn to consider my reply."

All during this discussion and while the Judge was out, the object of it all sat in the prisoner's box, tightly restrained hand and foot. The straps were so tight, they must surely have hurt. When Michael tried to talk to him, he turned his face away and mumbled, "I ain't gonna be your fuckin' slave, fagot!" Not a very auspicious sign.

The Judge, at last, returned and gave his decision. "Mr. Shay and Mr. Lange, I will approve your petition, subject to the conditions to which you have agreed. The sentence of Class 3 Slavery upon Robert Edward North is suspended and he is remanded to your custody as a Class 2 Slave for a period not to exceed three years. On or before that time, he must qualify to be a free subject to the satisfaction of this court or the original sentence will reinstate. Let me remind you that if he should escape from your custody, he will be considered a runaway slave and you may be charged with aiding and abetting."

They delivered him the next day and we were forced to chain him in the slave pen as we had no other place to secure him. He got slave gruel to eat and water, nothing more. Both Michael and I agreed the first thing he would try to do if we removed his restraints was to flee. And that would abrogate the agreement.

So I put in a hurried call to Chris. "Do we still have any collars like my father used on us? And the perimeter wiring to go with them?" I asked him.

In a bit he called back. "Yes we do," he assured me. "Whatever do you want them for?"

"I have a slave who I don't want to keep in restraint all the time but will flee at the first opportunity."

"Please, Chris. Just get the wiring installed as soon as possible. I'll explain later."

True to his word, everything was ready to go in two days, so we brought Robbie up and forced him to kneel while I removed his chains.

It was the first real opportunity we had had to examine him thoroughly. He lay there quietly, just doing what he always did 3; biding his time until the opportunity for escape. We, of course, were determined that would not happen.

Considering the life he had led on the streets he was in fair physical shape. Skinny but not starving. The Authority had circumcised him and he winced when I applied some salve to his sore prick. There were fresh weals on his behind and he hissed when Michael applied some healing lotion to them. Obviously, someone at the Authority had taken a cane to him. His little hole was not inflamed, so they at least had not visited that humiliation on him, although it was quite clear he was no longer a virgin. On the streets, selling one's body just to survive included anything the buyer wanted to do and most wanted to fuck a young boy.

Several of the Slave Authority guards made it their sacred duty to rape all new Class 2 and Class 3 slaves. They claimed to be preparing the boy for the realities of his new life. They were not my favorite people and I would cheerfully have had them castrated if it had been my call.

We both tried to be gentle, but he jumped every time one of us touched him. He lay there with a smirk on his face and mumbled, "Bunch of fucking fags!"

Michael forced him to sit and secured the collar around his neck. Next were his wrist and ankle cuffs. I fastened the latter together and his hands behind him so he had no choice but to sit there.

"Robbie, there are some things you need to understand," Michael told him. "Your old life is over. You belong to us and must do what we tell you."

Michael ignored his outburst. "If you behave, we will not punish you. If you fail to do what you are told, you will feel my short whip."

"The collar around your neck identifies you as a slave, our slave," I told him. "It also has another purpose. If you try to leave the grounds around our house, it will give you a shock. Like this." And I pressed the button on the control.

He uttered a scream and rolled over on the floor convulsing. I had only given him a half shock, lasting less than an instant. After a few minutes he stopped struggling and just lay there crying.

"I'm going to remove your restraints, now." And I unclipped his ankle and wrist cuffs and he sat up rubbing his wrists. "Don't try to remove your cuffs or collar. If you do, you will get a continuous shock. You will never again wear chains in this house, but we will restrain you if you do not behave."

"When you are ready to begin, come and find one of us." And we both left the room.

True to my prediction, we heard him get up; heard the outside door open and, a few moments later his agonized scream as he had tried to cross the perimeter. I walked over to him and dragged him back away so the collar would stop shocking him. Taking him into my arms, I held him until he calmed down. "You just had to try it out, didn't you?" He didn't answer; just buried his head on my chest and bawled. That was the moment the awful truth of his slavery hit him.

The next several weeks were the usual; anger, defiance and much weeping as his little ass sprouted their welts. By shear force, we got him to do a few things, but precious few. We had no illusions about how hard it was going to be to 'break' him.

He spent every night in the pen, but not shackled. He hated the slave gruel, but was unwilling to do anything to earn the right to a room upstairs or better food. Like our practice had been with Willie and Joe, he had a specific goal to meet, but had not a single day 3; let alone four in a row 3; when he wasn't punished repeatedly.

One night, I locked him into the den and turned out the light completely once he was asleep, leaving him in inky blackness. Exhausted from the day's 'battles' he had succumbed quickly, but it wasn't long before hysteria set in.

"NO, UNCLE!" he screamed. "DON'T MAKE ME BLIND. I'LL DO BETTER! DON'T! AHEEEEEEEE!"

I jumped up from where I had been monitoring him. "He's having a nightmare," I told Michael and I ran down to the pen. Switching on the low lights, I pulled him into my arms. "It's Ok, Robbie. I'm here and you're safe. No one is going to hurt you." After a while, he subsided into sobs. "Do you want to tell me about it?" I asked him.

He was quiet for a bit, but then it poured out of him. He had been living with a man he called 'Uncle' and was made to beg on the streets. If he didn't bring home what 'Uncle' though he should, he was beaten. One night, after his beating, he was strapped to a board and 'Uncle' told him, "I'm going to blind you so you make a more appealing beggar."

But the man was not to be dissuaded. He got a small bottle of liquid from the shelf and approached the boy. Holding his head, he was about to pour the liquid into his eyes, when Robbie managed to get a foot loose and kicked him squarely in his balls. The man jumped, pouring the acid all over himself. Screaming from the acid burns, 'Uncle' ran from the house.

"I knew I had to get loose before he came back and I did," he told me. "That was when I started to live on the street. I said I would never be someone's slave again."

"Robbie," I tried to comfort him, "you may be our slave, but I promise you we would never do such a horrible thing to you."

He thought about that for a while and then sat up and asked, "Why do you do this? Why did you take me in?"

"I once read something written by a very wise and loving woman," I began. "Her name was Dame Ruth and what she said has guided me ever since I was freed."

Robbie was quiet for quite a while, just gazing at me with his cool, gray eyes. Then he looked down at the floor and began to sob, "I don't deserve your love! I'm bad and I only deserve to be punished."

"No, Robbie!" And I took him into my arms again. "You are a child of God and every child deserves to be loved, no matter what."

His feeble attempts to gain our love lasted all of five days. Old habits 3; even destructive ones 3; are hard to break. But we realized we would have to bring him upstairs. The slave pen simply held too many terrors for him.

We remodeled 'Danny's Room' so that we could secure him there if misbehavior warranted. It was where he spent his nights also, shackled to his bed. But the slave-gruel regimen continued as he was simply unwilling to work toward his goal.

But help arrived in the persons of Danny and Billy. I had trained Danny at his father's request and Billy was his best friend and future mate. They had helped with my slaves before by providing role models for them to emulate.

Robbie was having one of his usual bad days and was shackled to his bed spread-eagle when they arrived. Eager to help 3; and generally quite effective 3; they wanted to talk to him. I was a bit hesitant but Michael accepted their offer immediately. But before I allowed them anywhere near our disobedient slave, I told them Robbie's story 3; omitting any hint that he might one day be our son. No point in complicating things for our two young 'therapists'.

"All the same, promise me both of you that you'll be careful. I don't want either of you hurt and I don't want him hanged." They, of course, didn't know about the terms of our agreement but they knew what the penalty was for a slave who struck and injured a free person.

Handing Danny the key to Robbie's fetters, I let them into his room and closed the door. For a second, I almost turned on the monitor. But that would have been a breach of trust. What was said at one of these confrontations was sacrosanct.

Michael and I heard some shouting and some loud thumps from behind the walls, but steeled ourselves not to interfere. After that, it was quiet.

Danny exited a short time later and the bruise on his face was unmistakable. "Oh, no!" I groaned. What I had feared had happened.

Billy had finished restraining Robbie again and now joined his 'wounded' friend. "Yeah, he popped him. But he's just a kid who doesn't know any better. He's had to fight to survive on the streets and thinks that's the only way to go."

"He's got a 'potty mouth', that's for sure," Danny added. "He called me some names I'm going to have to look up on the Internet. I'm sure they weren't terms of love. But please don't turn him in. I think he's a neat kid under all that crap."

"We said we would like to be his friends," continued Billy, "but he wasn't having any of that. Said he didn't need friends. Said we were just fags who were after his ass. That really hurt, but we're not ready to give up just yet."

"What do you think, Uncle Michael?" It was the first time Danny had ever called my lover by that name and Michael was thrilled by it.

"If you're willing, we'll give him another chance. We won't turn him in," Michael answered. He pulled Danny to him and hugged him. "Thanks for making yourself my nephew," he told Danny. "That's the most wonderful thing you have ever said to me."

The boys departed, but would return often, and were eventually acknowledged as Robbie's first ever friends. As soon as they left, I confronted Robbie.

"Danny just left here, after begging for your life! He asked us not to report you to the Slave Authority! He saved your life, you ungrateful brat!"

'How can I get through to this kid?' I asked myself. "You can just stay here on your bed until you decide to be a human instead of a wild animal." I slammed the door as I left.

It was the following afternoon before his cramped muscles drove him to promise he would behave. That's a relative term when it refers to Robert Edward North.

But we did see a bit more humility on Robbie's part. Perhaps some of Danny's and Billy's innate goodness had rubbed off. And maybe I was just wishful thinking too.

His defiance and misbehavior continued, however. Yes, he had some 'good' days, when he was somewhat cooperative. But many days were a terror for both Michael and me. Had Michael been wrong? Could this little guy be salvaged, let alone be our son?

Things all came to a head one day in an incident and my reaction to it about which I shall always feel deep shame. It was one of Robbie's worst days. Completely uncooperative 3; every utterance full of profanity 3; every statement meant to hurt us. I had ordered him to wash the lunch dishes 3; including those from which he had just eaten 3; and his reaction was unique to say the least.

He gathered up the stack of dishes, walked into my office where Michael and I were at work.

And threw them on the floor in front of me! "I'm not gonna wash your fuckin' dishes no more! And you can't make me."

In an action I will regret to my dying day, I grabbed him, threw him over my desk 3; scattering the papers I had been working on 3; and began to beat him with a cane that had been leaning conveniently nearby.

He bore the first ten strokes or so without a sound which served to infuriate me still more and I redoubled my efforts. He was soon screaming and howling and I wanted to beat him still harder.

Michael, at first, was too shocked to do anything. But, as I looked up from that little ass now full of red welts and bleeding weals, I could see my lover was weeping. I could imagine him thinking that all his love and care for Robbie had been in vain. Finally, not able to take it any longer, as had happened one day with Julian, he attempted to restrain me.

"You're god damned right!" I snarled. "And I'm going to continue until the little shit's ass is 3;"

Like a blow, the realization of what I had done struck me. Strong, unflappable Marcus 3; the Marcus who was always right 3; the Marcus who was 'perfect' 3; had blown it big time. The shame and revulsion I felt at that moment was not unlike the time Father had made me beat my best friend Timo for spilling a glass of milk.

The cane fell from my hand. I picked up the still howling boy, cradled him in my arms and sank to the floor. As he clung to me in his pain, I began to sob 3; crying like I had never done in my life before. The pain I felt was every bit as savage as that I had felt on Father's punishment frame on that first tragic day as his slave. "Oh Robbie! How could I have done this to you? Why? Why?" I bawled.

But, I managed at last to draw myself a bit together. "No you didn't, Robbie. No child deserves the beating I just gave you. No matter what he's done. Oh, Robbie, I know I've hurt you. I just hope 3;"

"Sure, I deserved it!" he sobbed. "All you and Michael have tried to do for me! And all I do is mock you and try to hate you. You should have let me go to the mines. I'm not worth your efforts. I not worth your love!"

I hadn't heard such self-hatred in a long time. I could tell by the look in his eyes this desperately lonely and hurting child had perhaps reached his limits. But, I found myself unable to help him. "Please take him and see what you can do," I implored my lover.

Michael managed to dry his tears, picked the boy up and started to leave the room. "I, I, I need to be alone for a while," I explained.

And I prayed! Something I had not done for a very long time. "Lord! I have sinned terribly! I struck a little boy in anger, completely out of control. I may have hurt him seriously. Can you forgive me? Is it possible that Robbie could forgive me?"

I prayed for the wisdom and strength to continue to raise Robbie and for the love and understanding of my lover. For my intemperate actions had hurt him, too. Deeply. But mostly I prayed for Robbie. He deserved our love, the chance for freedom, despite what he had said and it was up to us to make that happen. And I had failed! Big time!

For a long time, I sat there in silence. Feeling a despair I had not felt since that first frightening day in my father's slave pen. But gradually, I felt a peace that was wonderful. God really does answer prayers I decided. It had been just too long since we had 'talked'.

He did and immediately swept me into his strong arms. "Marcus, I was afraid for you," he sniffed.

"I know," I replied. "And I need your love and understanding more than I ever have before. If you had not stopped me, I might have killed him." We both knew that would have destroyed us. "My love, I just don't understand the anger I felt!"

"I think I do," he assured me. "I felt that same way when your father first beat me and made me a 'pony'. I couldn't do anything about it, but I would have killed any of you within reach. Fortunately none of you were."

"Sore, but nothing that won't heal pretty quickly. I put lotion on his backside and restrained him on his tummy."

"Well, strange thing!" he interrupted. "He insisted on cleaning up his mess before he let me treat him."

I was shocked to my core! Could this whole unfortunate thing have a positive side? Was that too much to expect? It was more than I could fathom, so I let my mate take me off to bed. Strangely, I slept rather well, until the early morning. Then I lay awake, fearfully waiting to face Robbie.

When we both got up, we were in for another shock. He was kneeling in his 'position' waiting for us. The condition of his backside made me physically ill and I almost hurled.

"Master, I want to apologize," he began after Michael had 'released' him. "I don't deserve to be your slave. I deserve to die in the mines." Calmly and forcefully he continued, "You showed me your love and I rejected it. You tried to teach me how to live, but I refused to listen. So, send me to the mines and get another little boy who will listen to you. I'm bad and I always will be."

I went to him and put my arms around him. "Robbie, I was very wrong yesterday, more wrong than I have ever been in my life. I hurt you; I beat you in anger and I am truly sorry. I hope you can find the courage to forgive me."

"Yes, Master, I forgive you. But I learned something yesterday: just how bad I really am. So, send me away before I do something else terrible."

"Robbie," I sighed, "you are not bad! You're a lonely and frightened little boy who does some bad things. Together, you and Michael and I can change that. We will never send you to the mines."

"We will never give up," added Michael. "We will always love you. You will be a free boy some day. I believe that with all my heart. And so does Marcus."

That day 3; despite the pain from his beaten ass 3; he demonstrated for the first time how good he could be if he really tried. God had answered my prayer in spades.

Just before bedtime, he came into the room and went to his position in front of us. Michael released him and, his voice breaking with emotion, he told us "Masters, I want to make you a promise." He had never formally pledged to us but he, at long last, seemed ready to do so.

He went to his knees again, looked up at us, and began, "I am Robert Edward North, a slave. I promise to be your faithful slave. To obey you without question. To do what you want me to. If I fail to please you, I will gladly take my punishment. I will serve you for my whole life, if that is your wish. And I will never forget that you love me and hope you will forgive me for the way I have behaved in the past. I am really sorry for the hurt I have caused you and will try very hard to not ever hurt you again." And he bowed his head.

Both Michael and I were floored. This ten-year-old boy had spoken from his heart!

Michael finally found his voice and replied, speaking for both of us, "We 3; Michael Lange and Marcus Shay 3; accept your pledge. We promise to be kind and loving masters. We will be fair but strict, teaching you all the things you must learn to be a free boy once more. And we will never stop until you are free once more. And then we will continue to love you for as long as we all shall live." It wasn't quite protocol, but very appropriate.

"You may rise, Robbie," I croaked, still partially overcome. He did so, hugged each of us and gave each of us a solemn kiss. It was the first time he had ever kissed either of us. That he might be scamming us never entered my mind; I was completely sure he was being honest.

And then he asked me a question that surprised me. "Master, why don't I have a slave mark like Danny? He has one and he told me it was his mark that he belonged to you and you were his master. But Billy doesn't have one."

Truthfully, we had been so busy just trying to control him I had overlooked it. And, anyway, his collar was proof enough of his enslaved status. "Billy was never my slave," I explained.

"Do you think they might be my friends after all?" he asked, his face a picture of doubt.

"Please, Master. But Danny said you drew his with a special ink that won't never come off. He said you tricked him into thinking you did it with a red-hot iron."

"Yes, that's how slaves were marked in the past. It's called branding and both Michael and I received ours from my father that way. It's hurts a lot!"

"Then, I want mine done that way, too. And can I have it right here?" he asked pointing to a place on his left breast just above the nipple. "Please, Master, can I"

For a moment I choked. He was asking to have a red-hot branding iron applied to a very sensitive and somewhat public part of his anatomy? "Why there?" I asked, ignoring the far more important other issue.

"Master, I want everyone to be able to see that I am your slave. That I was wrong and now I am proud to be your slave. I know it will hurt, but I promise to be brave!"

It sounded like guilt to me, but all I could think of was, "Michael and I will have to think about it. Now please go and finish your chores." He bowed and scampered off.

I looked at my lover in horror. "Does he have any inkling how painful that's going to be? And on his chest?"

"I doubt very much if he has a clue how much it will hurt. I know I didn't when Mike did mine."

"Marcus, I think this is something that is very important to him. So important that he will risk any amount of pain. It might be a 'guilt trip' but I think there is more to it."

"I certainly did not like Mike branding me and I recall I cried like a baby. After all, I was a spoiled, overindulged brat. But, somehow, when Mike did that, I understood that I really was a member of the 'family'. No matter that he continued to beat the crap out of me and humiliate me, I would always be safe. I would always have all of you as my family. I knew you would always love me, even if you couldn't show it."

"Marcus, I think we must be brave, too," he interrupted. "I'll do it if you wish."

We gave him our decision the next day, just after lunch. It had taken me all morning to find the long-unused implements. We had decided to do the deed in the room off the pen 3; it had a dirt floor 3; in case he lost control of his bladder. I remembered that had happened to me during my branding.

We took off all his cuffs and his collar and he stood in front of me with Michael firmly holding him by his upper arms. He was apprehensive but not overly fearful. I took the hot iron from the brazier, and held it on front of him. "By this sign, you will be known as our slave forever." My hands were shaking badly and I took a deep breath to still them. I wanted to make a clean mark, not a badly bungled one. 'Help me, Lord!' I prayed as I pressed the iron firmly to his breast.

As soon as the iron touched his skin, he sucked in a huge breath. His lips were drawn up into a little 'O'. But he made nary a sound.

Michael released him and he stood there rigid for a second. We were both prepared for his scream, but, instead, his eyes rolled back into his head and he would have collapsed onto the ground if Michael had not caught him and gently lowered him to the dirt.

We both knelt beside him, heedless of the spreading stain of his urine, each of us clasping a hand. I dipped my other hand into the pot of healing lotion and rubbed it gently on him, brushing away any burned skin and leaving only a fiery, red fox-head. He was well and truly marked.

After about five minutes, his eyes fluttered. "Was I brave, Master?" he croaked.

"Master, I knew you didn't want to do it, so you both had to be brave, too. I know you will always love me and protect me because you are brave and strong. I just hope I can grow up to be like you."

We picked him up, gently cleaned him off and tucked him into bed. He had had quite enough for one day. The shackle for his bed-time went into the trash. The next morning, he knelt in his 'position', clutching his collar and cuffs and asked to be 'dressed' again.

With that began one of the most satisfying times of my life. He was not Danny, but just as good and precious in his own way. Yes he made some mistakes 3; and took his punishment without a whimper. The strokes were gentle and delivered by hand 3; Like Danny, it was his disappointment that he had failed that was his real punishment.

He thoroughly enjoyed being held and comforted afterward. In fact, we suspected the little scamp occasionally misbehaved just so he could be punished and comforted. So, we instituted 'spanking night' with Michael and me alternating.

But the most effective punishment still was being banished to the slave pen for the night. The very threat of that sometimes sent him into hysterics. But gradually, too, he began overcome his fear of the dark as the memory of what his 'uncle' had almost done to him faded and was replaced by the certainty of our love and protection.

John Samson, the inspector from the Slave Authority, had visited us from time to time as the court had ordered. The first few times he emerged from his session with Robbie and sadly shook his head. "A number of us at the Authority had so hoped you might turn this kid around. Living as he did for so long on the streets, he had to have a lot of bravery and resourcefulness. It's just a shame that he hasn't responded."

"It's been tough for us too," Michael responded. "But we're determined. He will be free one day."

"I hope you are right," Samson said fervently. "At least he hasn't been able to flee. I suppose that's a small step forward."

He spent almost two hours talking to Robbie in his 'room'. Finally emerging, he asked, "This is not the same boy I have visited before. You are sure you haven't traded him in for another?"

For an instant, I was afraid he was serious and would report fraud to the Authority, but then we both saw he was joking.

"I don't pretend to know what you did to this angry little boy, but it is truly a miracle. If I hadn't seen it, I would not have believed it. I'm sure he will be free."

"You know," said the inspector, "you guys work pretty hard to undo all our hard work!"

"We make boys into slaves and you just make them free again! It's not fair!" he joked.

Robbie loved to be out shopping with us or elsewhere away from the house. He walked with his head held high, proud to be our slave. His slave discipline with free persons was quite correct, but he was rather disdainful of other slaves, sometimes treating them rudely 3; trying to show that he was somehow better than they were. There was obviously something missing, so Michael decided to teach him a lesson in humility.

He was due to go shopping with us one afternoon and Michael called him before we left. Telling him to stand at attention, Michael tied a big red bow snugly around his boy parts. In addition to the adornment itself, it stimulated him to erection.

And so we went. We had picked a route where we expected there would be lots of kids his own age 3; slave and free. And they did not fail us; he was the butt of their jokes and derision as soon as they spied him. Even other slaves laughed at him until they were silenced by their chortling masters. A red-faced, sobbing little boy stumbled at last back inside our home and curled up in a ball on the door mat.

"Get up and come here," I instructed him. When he stood before me, head bowed, I asked him, "What's the matter? Have you been injured?"

"'Cause everyone laughed at me and made fun of me. 'Specially the kids. The worst was the other slaves."

The point of the whole exercise suddenly struck him and he was devastated. After a few minutes he managed to say, "You are right, Master. You see things that I can't hide. I haven't learned that they are just like me. I'm sorry I treat them badly. I'll try hard to do better."

"Robbie, some of the slave boys you see have done bad things just as you did. And they are being punished for that. But some are slaves simply because their parents died and there was no one to care for them."

He looked at me in shock for a moment and then bowed his head again. "Master, I didn't know. I'm ashamed. I'll try to do better."

"I know you will. Come here, your punishment is over. Would you like me to take the bow off?"

I removed the offending symbol from his parts and wrapped him in my arms. He wept on my shoulder for a bit, but then said, "Thank you, Master," and went off to do his afternoon chores. It wasn't long before he even managed to make a few friends with other slaveboys.

We had tried to start Robbie on schoolwork, but had not had much success. At first, he simply rebelled at this just like everything else. But, one evening he came to me with a book in his hand. It was an illustrated book of exotic places published by the Royal Geographic Society. "Please, Master. Will you teach me to read? I don't want to be stupid all my life."

"Well, I am if I can't read about all these places in this book. The pictures are nice, but I want to read what it says about them. Please, Master?"

"Ok. If you promise to work on all your lessons, I'll help you learn to read. It'll cost you three spankings."

Throwing himself across my knees, he challenged me, "Go ahead, you nasty man, give it your best."

I pulled him up into my arms and hugged him. "I refuse to punish you for wanting an education, you silly little boy. But I have an idea that might help us. Danny had a teacher that he really liked and I thought I might ask her to teach you. I warn you, she's tough! But she'll do a much better job than either Michael or I. What do you say?"

"Master, I will do my very best to learn everything. I'll make both you and Master Michael proud."

Emma Thompson had been Danny's teacher for his entire primary school. "After Danny moved up to upper school," she once told me, "it wasn't nearly as satisfying. Somehow the other students just were not as hungry to learn. It was exciting to have young slaves in our school, but there were just no more Danny's among them." She had retired at the end of the last semester and I called her to ask for her help. Robbie had never been schooled at all and would need a lot of it.

She began coming three days a week and spent the afternoon with her young scholar in his room which we had equipped for study. She soon got used to his nakedness 3; she confessed she actually enjoyed seeing him au natural 3; and the two of them got along fabulously. From the very beginning he earned lots of hugs from her, and Michael and I both thought that was a good sign. She had completely accepted Michael's new status as one more evidence that she was 'right' about slavery being an abomination, but she simply treated him as an equal and treated Robbie as her young student.

She had been coming only a few months when she asked to have a 'conference' with Michael and me. "You know, you have a very bright child?" she asked.

Truthfully, neither Michael or I had thought much about it. He was quick to learn, once he decided something was worth his effort, but we knew almost nothing about his intellect.

"Do you realize after only three months he is reading at fifth-year level. And his math skills are simply unbelievable! He'll soon be doing upper school algebra. I have never seen such hunger 3; that's the only way I can describe it. He wants to know it all 3; right now! Danny was bright, but he worked hard for his grades. This little fellow absorbs everything like a giant sponge and comes back for more."

"Well, I'm sure it has something to do with the teacher, too." I complemented her. She frowned a bit, but then smiled.

"I will continue through for the rest of the school year," she assured us, "but he needs to be in school. He lacks one thing; he needs to be with kids his own age. I can see that sadness in his eyes every time he reads about other kids. He needs to have some friends his own age."

"We had thought about starting him as soon as he was up to level, hoping maybe in the fall. His indenture has another year to go, so perhaps he can finish primary school as a free boy," I told her.

The smile on her face was dazzling. "He'll be ready, Marcus," she assured me. "And I mean to see you get your Certificate, too, Michael."

She had, unknown to me, tested my lover and found him qualified in full. He was shortly a proud 'graduate'. "Of the school of hard knocks," I teased him.

"You're a good man, Marcus," she teased me, "in spite of what you did to poor Danny."

"Well, you're a super person, Mrs. Thompson, because of what you did for Danny and all of us."

One evening in late summer, Michael and I lay together after Robbie had pleasured us. He no longer spent every night in our bed and had gone to his room. "I think it's time he knows the full story," Michael told me.

"Yes, I agree. If he is going to step out into the world, he needs to know all the issues. I guess it's a matter of trust."

Chapter 4
It's a Matter of Trust

Returning with our beverages, he placed them on the table and sat down between us. I guess he could tell by our expressions that something important was in the offing and he looked back and forth at us. Finally, not being able to contain himself any longer he asked, "Masters! What?"

I nodded to him and Michael began, "Robbie, in a few days you'll be going to school 3; out in public without either of us with you. It's an important step in your journey toward freedom and there are a few things you should know."

"Do you remember the first day we saw you, strapped to that board?" Robbie nodded. "You were so frightened and angry! But I saw something else in those pleading gray eyes. Marcus didn't see it at first, but I saw a fine young man who simply needed love and encouragement to blossom."

"Michael's right!" I interrupted. "All I saw was the anger and hurt. But I should have known better. Michael is never wrong about people, but when he told me you would turn out to be the loving and courageous boy you have become, I thought he was crazy."

"But I was wrong! And it didn't take me very long to discover just how wrong I had been. I needed to believe in you and, more importantly, you needed to believe in yourself."

"So, because Michael felt so strongly about you, we decided to intervene on your behalf with the court. The court wasn't very sympathetic and we had to agree to some pretty stiff conditions."

"We were given three years to turn you about," Michael continued. "If that didn't happen, you would go directly to one of the mines and probably be dead within a few months. And we would have to pay a large fine; maybe even become slaves ourselves again."

"You had a long history of escaping, of running from child care authorities. Well, this time you were a slave and, if you escaped from us, you would be hanged. And, no doubt about it, we would be slaves again."

Robbie burst into tears and Michael took him into his arms. "You did that for me? Put yourselves in danger for me? Risked your lives for me?" he bawled.

"Because Michael believed in you and I believed in Michael," I replied. "And I soon learned to believe in you, too."

Robbie just sobbed to a few minutes. "And I treated you so badly! I didn't know! How could you have believed in me? How could you possibly have loved me?"

"Robbie," I comforted him, "you were a frightened little boy who had almost never known love. All the grown-ups you had ever met just wanted to hurt you. When I think what that 'uncle' tried to do to you, I simply cannot imagine how anyone could do that to a child. It gives me the shakes. So, how could you possible trust us; how could not believe that all we wanted to do was to hurt you too. I'll be forever ashamed how I beat you that day 3;" I sighed.

"But I deserved it! " Robbie interrupted. "Somehow, I knew that the only reason you were beating me was because I had disappointed you so badly. Yes, it hurt! But you did it because you loved me. Me! Who had treated both of you so badly. Yes, I would have run, if I could have! But I couldn't. I had to stay and take my punishment."

"We're sorry we had to use the collar on you," Michael told him. "But, now you understand why we could not let you escape. Not just to save ourselves. It was to save you.

"No! No! You're the first family I've ever had. To leave you would be stupid! Besides, the collar 3;"

He got up, marched out the walk to the gate, opened it and stepped over the line. Then he turned and hurled himself back into my waiting arms. "See! I'll never leave you. You're both good and strong and kind and I want to grow up to be just like you. I love you with all my heart."

We all just sat there in a hug for a while. Then, I said, "Robbie, what we have talked about tonight must be our secret. You can't tell another soul about our agreement with the Slave Authority. Can we trust you?"

"Oh, yes! I'll never tell anyone, Masters. I promise with all my heart. But now I love you both even more because you told me how you risked your lives for me."

"And so do I," I assured him. "Now go to the closet in our room. You will find two white boxes 3; a large one and a small one 3; and bring them here please."

Robbie returned a short time later and deposited the boxes on the table. I selected the smaller one and told him to stand in front of me. He was quivering with excitement as I removed his collar, followed by his wrist cuffs. I couldn't help myself; I ran my hands down over those smooth, shapely legs as I removed his ankle cuffs.

He shivered and his boy pole stood out straight. But there was a look of distress on his face, "Master, why are you removing my slave things? Did I do something wrong?"

From the box I took a different collar 3; made of soft leather and decorated with silver and turquoise 3; and fastened it gently around his neck. "This one will not shock you. You must take it off when you shower," I admonished him.

In lieu of his cuffs, I fastened a single silver slave-bracelet on his right arm above his bicep. He looked at it in wonder and saw the engraved fox-head on it.

He continued to stand there transfixed, but then asked, "May I go look in the mirror, Master?" Michael nodded and he ran into the house, returned a short time later and fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks. "Oh it's beautiful!"

"There's one more item in the box," I told him. He looked and drew out a small pouch with thin straps attached to it. "Come here." I placed the pouch over his boy parts and fastened the straps around his waist. "You are almost twelve-years-old, now, so you may cover yourself when you go outside our house and yard. You're getting pretty big down there."

He simply stood with his mouth open for a bit, but then hung his head and said, "Thank you, Masters. But what if I get an erection?"

"Proper marking for a beautiful, young slave-boy," I assured him. "Now get up and sit with us. We need to talk about school." He hopped into Michael's lap and sat with an intense expression.

"You know that Monday, you will start school." He gulped and nodded. "It will be a brand new experience for you 3; the first time you will be away from us. Your teacher is Mrs. McGreggor and I think you will like her. She's tough but fair and Mrs. Thompson assures me you are ready."

"There are thirty-three other boys and girls in your class and two of them 3; a boy and a girl 3; are slaves, just like you. So you won't be the first slave-boy they've seen."

He digested that for a bit and then asked, "I guess I have to go naked except for my covering, won't I, Master?" I could tell that distressed him.

"I guess not except 3; there are girls in the class and the covering doesn't hide much. They will all be able to see my boy parts almost."

"And they are very pretty boy parts, just like the rest of you," Michael teased him.

"Come and stand in front of me," I directed him. He hopped off of Michael's lap. "Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I say so."

I opened the other box and removed two articles of clothing. Raising his arms, I slipped the shirt over his head. Then, carefully lifting his legs one at a time, I slipped on the pair of shorts and buckled the belt around his waist. "Now you may open your eyes."

He stood in front of us dressed in a pair of dark blue shorts 3; short enough to reveal his shapely legs 3; and a white collared shirt with a blue monogram over the right breast 3; a fox-head with the words 'I BELONG TO MASTER MICHAEL AND MASTER MARCUS' above and below it. I had put it over his right breast so as not to irritate the brand on his left breast, now almost healed.

He stood frozen for a minute. Then, at my nod, he dashed back into the house to look at himself.

"Master!" he yelled as he dashed back out to us. "You mean I get to wear real clothes to school?"

"Yes, that's one of the rules," I told him. "You can't be naked there, but you'll still be barefoot until the weather gets too cold. You'll still be naked everywhere else, except for your covering when in public. Your shorts and shirts are only for school and your covering is only for when we go out."

"You'll get used to it." Indeed, he would be lightly dressed and barefoot until well into the winter, arriving home many days half frozen and shivering. It was a 'macho' thing, I determined and I finally put my foot down. It wasn't that we had not provided him with warm outer clothing and shoes, and he never once took advantage. He was still a naked slave-boy and was content with that.

"Some other things you need to know. Take off your school clothes and hang them away carefully and come, sit on my lap." He did and was back in my lap again in his nicely naked state. He snuggled down and waited breathlessly for what else we had to tell him.

"Mrs. McGreggor has a traditional way of welcoming a new student," I told him. "And I think it's quite a splendid idea. First day, you will stand before your class and tell them about yourself."

"No, you were an abused little boy who did some bad things. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I would wager the other kids will see you as a hero, if you tell them your story."

"Well, we'll see on Monday. But you need to think about what you're going to say. You can do that while you do your chores this weekend and, if you need to be alone in your room, Michael and I certainly understand." I had not told him about the other part of his 'welcome', one that would cement his place I was sure.

Sunday night, Michael found him on his bunk, crying pitifully. His soaked pillow was mute evidence to his upset. Sitting down beside him, Michael told him, "I know it's frightening. I remember the first time I went out as Marcus's registered slave. But you are strong and brave 3; much more than you think 3; and you will do fine," That seemed to comfort him and Monday morning he was dry-eyed and determined.

He stood in front of the room 3; Michael and I sat in the back as was the custom. He was trembling despite Mrs. McGreggor's arm protectively about his shoulders. I caught his eye and gave him a big wink. He smiled and his confidence was restored.

"Class," began Mrs. McGreggor, "we have a new student this morning. His name is Robert North and I have asked him to tell us a bit about himself."

"I am Robert Edward North, but most people call me Robbie. Yes, I'm a slave. I did some very bad things when I was younger and the court sentenced me to be a slave all my life and wanted to send me to a mine. I would have died there in a short time."

The other two slave children in the class had been taken into care when their parents had been killed. So, this would be a new experience even for them.

"Just as I was about to be taken to the mines, two men came along. Master Marcus and Master Michael. And, they are the most loving, brave, strong and patient people on earth. But for them, I would be dead!"

The other kids sat enraptured. So did Mrs. McGreggor, even though I had told her about Robbie's history.

"Every grown-up that I had ever met had wanted to hurt me or make me do bad things. One of them made me beg in the streets and wanted to make me blind so I would get more money. But I escaped from all of them. Except Master Marcus and Master Michael. They stopped me from escaping. They put a collar on me that gave me a bad, bad shock if I tried to escape."

"Well, it was the only way and I only tried it once. I had to stay and take whatever beating they wanted to give me. I didn't treat them very nice at first. Yeah, they punished me when I was bad. One day I was really bad and Master Marcus took a cane to my bare backside."

"But I saw that it hurt him! I saw that he loved me and was so disappointed that I could not understand. That I refused to believe that he and Master Michael really did love me and wanted what was right for me." Tears were running down his cheeks by this time. "I'm sorry to be such a baby," he apologized to Mrs McGreggor.

"You're not a baby at all, Robbie," she assured him, wiping her own eyes. "You may go on when you are ready."

After a few minutes, he resumed his tale. "Well I decided to change! I would let them show me how a slave was supposed to behave and I would try very hard to live that way. And you know what? It has been the happiest time of my life. They were right; being good is much better than being bad. It was easier on my backside, too."

"They are my family, the only family I have ever known. Yeah, I still get punished, but only if I deserve it."

"And they always hold me afterward and tell me that they know I will do better. That's my story! And I promise to work hard in school because I want to make my masters proud. I want to show them they made a good choice. Most of all, I want to earn my freedom."

The class was quiet except for a few sniffles. It was time for the part of his greeting I had not told him about.

Mrs. McGreggor broke the silence, "That was very good, Robbie." Turning to the class she asked, "Who will be Robbie's friend?"

Robbie stood there gawking at the sea of waving hands, not at all prepared for the greeting he had received.

There was a little boy sitting in the third row, wildly waving both hands. The desk beside him was vacant. "I know that all of you want to be his friend," said Mrs McGreggor, "but Peter, will you be Robbie's special friend?"

"Oh yes, Teacher," replied the boy. "I would be keen to be his friend." And he came forward, took a thoroughly surprised little slave-boy by the hand and led him to the desk beside his.

The next afternoon when I picked Robbie up 3; Michael or I would have to take him in the morning and bring him home to comply with the rule that a slave-boy must always be under the control of a free person 3; I met Robbie's 'special friend'. His name was Peter Berg and he lived but a few doors from us.

Robbie couldn't get finished telling both Michael and me all about Peter. We learned he lived mostly with his mother as his father was an intelligence officer and was away a lot of the time. They had moved here only a year ago.

The friendship continued to blossom and I stopped Peter one afternoon. "Robbie thinks you are a pretty cool friend," I told the boy.

"Thank you, sir," answered Peter. "I think he's pretty neat, too. I don't care that he's a slave. We're friends and he was so brave to stand and tell about his awful life before he met you. I wish there was some way I could thank you and Mr. Lange for bringing me such a good friend."

"Well, there is," I said, not wasting the 'opening' he provided. "You walk to and from school each day, right?" He nodded. "You know that a slave-boy must always be with a free person." He nodded again. "That person doesn't have to be an adult, so would you like to take Robbie to school and bring him home each day?"

"Ask your mom if that would be all right." I got my answer when he appeared at our doorstep the next morning, ready to take up his commission.

Robbie couldn't believe his good fortune and was quite ok when Michael snapped the short lead to his collar and handed it to Peter. Since Peter had football [soccer] practice after school, I made arrangements with Mrs. McGreggor for Robbie to work on his homework quietly in the classroom until Peter was finished. She always stayed late, correcting papers and writing lessons and it gave her the opportunity to help him along with his science and history, two subjects he was a bit behind.

About a month after they started traveling together, Robbie reported one afternoon that Peter's father had come home and wasn't happy with the arrangement, but his mom was very pleased and insisted it continue. He would be off again in a few days, so not to worry. And she wanted all three of us to come to diner then.

On the appointed day we arrived on time to be greeted at the door by Elizabeth Berg and Peter's older sister, Heather. Since this was not a school function, Robbie had to be naked except for his covering. As Elizabeth was greeting Michael and me, Robbie dropped into his position. I released him and he told his hostess, "I am just a slave and not worthy to be invited into your home, but thank you for inviting me."

Elizabeth was a bit lost for words and Heather contributed to her consternation by saying, "See, Peter. That's the way you should dress and behave."

Appalled, Elizabeth rounded on her daughter, "Heather that is quite enough! Robbie is a guest in this house and I will not have you making sport of him. The very idea!"

Heather turned bright red. This was not getting off to a very good start and her mother looked at me with pleading eyes. "Robbie, I think we can dispense with slave discipline for this evening," I told him. That seemed to break the ice and she heaved a sigh of relief.

"You didn't at all," our hostess assured us. "We've never had a slave-boy as a guest before and I just wasn't quite ready for it all." Heather beat a hasty retreat to her room upstairs as the rest of us trooped into the living room. "Peter, why don't you take Robbie up to your room." At a nod from Michael, the two boys scrambled up the stairs.

"I want to tell you both," said Elizabeth, "how much I appreciate your trust in Peter to make him responsible for Robbie to and from school. Peter had a 'special friend' who moved away about six months ago and he's been a little down ever since. Robbie has been good for him and taking charge of him has done wonders for his self-esteem."

"When we started him in Mrs. McGreggor's class last year," she continued, "I wasn't at all thrilled with the idea there would be slaves in his class. But it was their first day, too. and I looked at that little boy and girl and it suddenly hit me. They were really no different than my children. Just caught up in a bit of a muss, that's all. And, I was really ashamed of myself for being such a twit."

At that moment, Heather came dashing down the steps. "Mama! They're up there and they're almost naked!"

"Oh dear," said our hostess. "Peter asked me if he could dress just like Robbie and I said yes. I didn't stop to think what that meant. Heather, it's not the first time you've seen your brother unclothed, so don't be such a prude. Boys, it's all right. You can come to dinner that way." And she started to giggle. All of us 3; including Heather 3; were soon laughing uproariously.

And when dinner was announced, we were treated to two marvelous examples of boyhood in all their almost-naked glory.

On the way home that night, Robbie was very quiet. Finally, I broke the ice. "Did you enjoy your visit with Peter?"

When we arrived home, Michael immediately took Robbie into his lap. "Come on, my little slave, what's bothering you?"

"Because his father hates him and you would love him and show him how to be a man. Please, please Master, do you think 3;?"

"No Robbie, we can't," I told him softly. "Why does he think his father hates him?"

"Because he told his mother that Peter was an accident and should never have been born and she should have stopped him from being born," Robbie sniffed, near tears. "When his father is home, he calls him 'stupid' and 'weak' and nasty names. And he and Peter's mom fight all the time. And when he's away, she cries a lot."

"That's pretty tough for a kid to go through. But he's a pretty tough little guy to stand up under all that," I commiserated, realizing there was nothing we could really do.

"Just be a good and faithful friend, Robbie," Michael answered him. "Listen to him if he wants to talk, hold him when he needs comfort and just sit quietly with him."

"Just like we do with you," I added. "But I want you to know something else, too. If things should ever get so bad he just can't stand it, he will always be welcome here."

Through his tears, Robbie's eyes shown with joy. "Oh thank you Masters. Oh, thank you!"

Robbie giggled. "Didn't you notice I was a little too big down there tonight? I just stuffed it in with me. I fooled both of you, didn't I, Masters?"

We all had a good laugh at that stunt. But it was typical for our little sometimes-mischievous slave. And several weeks later, Robbie reported one evening, "Peter's father has left for a year assignment overseas and he's feeling much better, now. Master, please! Could he stay overnight?"

I looked at Michael; we both remembered the sleepover fiasco we had had with Danny and Billy and neither of us wanted that again. "We'll see," I told our little slave. For the record, he did sleep over a number of times with no problems. This was not Billy with his somewhat unwholesome attraction to me.

Robbie did well in school and Mrs. McGreggor had high praise for him. He was soon up to level in all his subjects and even reading two levels higher. Yes, a major milestone on the road to freedom would soon be reached.

We had not had to teach Robbie much about sex or pleasing another male of any age. He had learned that early on the street, although he had been shocked to learn that it could be fun for him, too. That Michael and I insisted that it be pleasurable for him. He even 3; quite willingly 3; offered us his cute little ass.

"Robbie, that is something that neither Michael nor I would do to a young boy. Ever!" His 'boy pussy' had been well stretched by many, but never by either of us. "We want you enjoy our bed games just as much as we enjoy you."

He demonstrated his passion for us with both gentleness and exuberance. He gave the best blow-jobs of any boy I had ever bedded. And his naked body 3; even after he began to move into puberty 3; felt fabulous pressed up against ours. The little bunk in 'his' room didn't get much use and he insisted on showering with each of us and scrubbing us from head to toe, while we returned the favor to him. He was probably the cleanest slaveboy in the realm.

In bed, Robbie could be mischievous and funny. If he sensed we were up for a bit of fun, he would simply slide in between us, turn on his back and announce, "Ok! Play with me!" And both of us would tease, tickle and stroke him until he gasped, "Oh please stop! Ahhhhhhhh!"

Other nights the three of us just lay quietly, rubbing and hugging while he thought about the changes that had been wrought in his life. He would sigh and whisper to us, "I thought I would never be able to love someone 3; that someone would never love me. I get all squirmy inside when I think how lucky I've been to be your slave."

And then he would usually crawl between Michael's legs and give him the most mind-bending blowjob you can imagine. He seemed to know just the right moment to stop, to keep Michael on edge. Finally Michael would scream for his release.

And I would continue waiting patiently until I felt those soft lips engulfing my prick. After he had 'tortured' me sufficiently, we would roll together and sleep like the dead.

I knew we had been successful with our 'instruction' when Robbie asked one day, "Master, is it all right to share my body with Peter?" I nodded for we both knew Peter would be receiving 'expert instruction' and tender love.

"Robbie, you have become the finest, most loyal and loving slave we have ever had. You are a simply magnificent young teen, even if you're still twelve-years-old. We're going to free you."

The silence in the room was thick for almost a full minute. Then Robbie dropped to his knees and gasped, "Master! Really? You would free me? After all the bad things I used to do to you and everyone else?" His face was a mask of wonder and joy as he knelt there, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Anticipating his next question, I told him, "Don't worry about how you'll get along. You will always have a home with us for as long as you want. But as a free person. You'll go on in school, make new friends and we'll be just like a family."

"Yes you did, at first," I replied. "But that's all past. You had to learn how to love. And you have. And you have made us both very happy. So, yes, you have earned a place in free society."

"Every day, you show us how much you love us, Robbie. That is how you earned your freedom," Michael added. And with that, Robbie launched himself into Michael's arms and smothered him with kisses. I stood there with a goofy grin on my face waiting for my turn.

After things had settled down for a bit, Robby asked, "Master I have no right to ask this question, but when?"

"If you had not asked, I would have considered rushing you straight to hospital," I chuckled. "Your hearing is four weeks from today." Turning to Michael, I continued, "So you see you have ample time; you can still go!"

Michael had received an invitation from his brother, Paul, to visit him in North America. Even though he had now been free for more than three years, he was plainly uncomfortable about the prospect of such a trip. He had really never been anywhere 3; let alone overseas 3; without me, and he wanted me to come along and bring Robbie, too. I told him it was important for him to make the trip; there would be other occasions. Besides, it would take far too long for the bureaucracy to crank out the necessary papers for Robbie. I knew this would be a rite-of-passage for Michael and I wanted my lover to experience the full of it.

But, later that day, I found Robbie lying on his bed crying. When he looked up at me, his face was a mask of terror. I immediately sat down beside him and rolled him into my arms. "You're frightened by the whole idea of being free, aren't you?"

He nodded, "Master, I'm just so scared I'll screw up and I won't know how to act as a free boy."

"Robbie," I replied gently, "freedom is all about choices. You made some very bad ones when you were younger, but that's past and forgotten. You've learned how to make good choices. Yes, you'll make a few mistakes; all of us do. Michael and I both know how hard it is at first. We'll be here for you when you need us."

"Just be the courageous, loving boy you have become. You won't need to be in slave discipline any more, but you'll still need to be courteous and polite. Some people will respect you because they know you and know what a fine young man you've become. You'll have to earn the respect of others. And, a few will never respect you; that's their problem."

"Lots of them and they will be tough at first; believe me, I know. You won't go out in public naked any more. Here at home, you can choose to be naked or not. You know that Michael and I enjoy seeing your sexy body, but you won't have to show us if you don't want to."

"You can choose who you want to associate with, be friends with. Who you want to share your body with; maybe other boys, maybe girls. We know you'll be responsible in that. Some day you'll choose the person with whom you wish to spend your life."

"You'll go on to upper school and make new friends; maybe play football. And, some day a few years from now, you'll decide on a profession. But those choices will come in due time."

"Who said anything about you leaving? Robbie, you are part of this family forever! You will have a home within these four walls as long as you want and need it. Michael and I will love and welcome you always. Some day, you'll want to start your own family and we'll be happy for you and your mate when that time comes. So, don't be concerned about the future. We're sure you'll continue to contribute to this family, but as a free boy. You can still serve Michael and me, but you must let us serve your needs as well."

"Oh, Master!" he sobbed, "why must I be such a wimp? After all you've done for me?"

"You're not a wimp Robbie. Just a sweet little boy 3; well, not so little any more 3; who's scared a bit. It is scary! But you'll do fine and bring loads of honor to both Michael and me."

We just sat holding each other for quite a while. "Thank you, Master!" he sniffed through his tears. "You always understand."

A week later, accompanied by Robbie, I drove Michael to Gatwick for Great Circle Air Flight 492, calling in Philadelphia and Denver. Paul would meet him in Denver and the two of them would have a two-week trek in the Rocky Mountains, returning him to us in quite adequate time for Robbie's hearing. After seeing him safely in the air, I drove Robbie into London, intending for us to have a bit of a holiday, too.

That was a mistake! Even though he was neatly dressed in shirt and shorts 3; carefully marked as slave attire 3; nudity was optional for slaves over a certain age 3; I could quickly tell just being in the city of his birth conjured up all sorts of sad and painful memories 3; memories he wasn't quite able to deal with yet. So, we returned home to await Michael's call that he had arrived safely. It would be the last time we could contact him until the day of his return flight. Where he and Paul were going, phones were few and unreliable. Even after one short day, I was lonely for him.

Robbie tried his best that night to assuage my emptiness. He had always been more Michael's boy than mine. Somehow 3; even though we had never discussed it 3; he knew instinctively that it was Michael who had read the message of fright and longing in those sad grey eyes when I had been ready to consign him to the rubbish heap. I had to learn to love Robbie! And I did, with all my heart. We simply held each other close and talked late into the next dawn, unburdening our very souls to each other. That night, we made tender, satisfying love. He was going to be an outstanding free boy.

He had been outside trimming the lawn 3; naked, as was usual at home 3; and I went looking for him near to dinner time. I found his tools next to the sidewalk, but no slaveboy. Annoyed that he had not finished the job properly, I search the entire house with no results. By now I was starting to panic.

Him running away was simply inconceivable! When he had not reappeared and it was going on toward night, I called my friend, Chief Inspector Dan Lewis.

"Well, we could list him as a 'runaway slave'," he told me," but then he would be subject to sanctions. I just can't believe he would flee, knowing his hearing and freedom were so close. And I was going to testify in his behalf. You don't suppose he was simply frightened at the prospect of freedom, do you? It's happened already, I'm sorry to tell you."

"No," I replied, "he's rarely afraid of anything. In fact, he can be a little foolhardy at times."

I slept not a wink that night. In addition to the staggering loss I felt for our young slave, how could I ever explain it to Michael. Something terrible had happened to Robbie and I had not protected him from it.

Early the next morning there was welcome 3; well sort of 3; news from Lewis. "They've found him. At a town named Brompton-on-Swale. He claims to have been abducted, but they classified him as a runaway. You'd better get there as quick as you can! It's not my jurisdiction, so I can't help you, but the Inspector there is Arthur Jennings. I've met him and he seems like a good chap." I thanked him heartily, consulted my Ordinance Survey Map and set out for Brompton, some 100 km [60 mi] northwest determined to avert a catastrophe.

I should explain about runaway slaves. No matter what their age or their putative reasons for fleeing, they were considered serious felons. For a first-time runaway, his owner had three choices:

Rushing into the Brompton police post, I confronted an astonished Inspector Jennings. "I'm Marcus Shay," I told him breathlessly. "You are holding my slave, Robbie North!"

"Yes we are," relied the inspector. "But it's almost unknown for an owner to be present for his slave's hanging."

"We found him wearing rough travel clothes and boots and he had an identity card on him. So we contacted you at the number on it. You told us emphatically to hang him. We're getting him ready now."

"He doesn't have an identity card and he's never worn boots in his life! You didn't contact me; I was alerted by Chief Inspector Lewis."

I ready the document and was horrified. It described our gentle, compassionate, well-behaved Robbie as 'violent', 'insolent', 'sadistic', and 'incorrigible' to mention just a few of his terrible characteristics. It directed that he be hanged immediately. I felt like I had been poleaxed! "This is a forgery!" I managed to squeak. "That's not my signature and they've misspelled his name; It's 'R-o-b-b-i-e', not 'R-o-b-b-y'. The phone number's not mine, either."

Jennings eyed me for a moment, dialed the number and waited. He got a 'this-number-is-not-in-service' message. A quick call to the presiding magistrate who had signed the death warrant and he told his constable, "Stay the execution of Robbie North. There's been a terrible mistake."

"Inspector, he had absolutely no reason to run. He's a fine young boy; those terms don't describe him at all. We've filed for manumission and he knows that. Why would he run away?" Without a word, Jennings got up, took me by the arm and led me to one of the two cells in the lockup.

They had already stripped him, tightly strapped his arms and legs and ball-gagged him. A butt-plug and penis clamp lay nearby. The constable sat with his arm around him. The look of terror and anger in Robbie's eyes were ones I hadn't seen in almost two years. The constable looked up at us with tears in his eyes. "We almost hanged an innocent boy, didn't we?"

Jennings nodded. "Take the gag off and release him." We stood outside while the straps and ball-gag were removed and then entered the cell.

Robbie flattened himself in the corner farthest from me. His look and what he screamed at me nearly broke my heart. "HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE? YOU LIED TO ME! YOU NEVER LOVED ME AND SENT MICHAEL AWAY SO YOU COULD HANG ME! THEY READ ME THE PAPER. WHY DID YOU SAY ALL THOSE TERRIBLE THINGS ABOUT ME. WHY? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I HATE YOU!" And he burst into tears.

"Robbie!" I replied as I fell on my knees, arms outstretched, imploring him to come to me and he just cringed. "That document is a forgery and I love you very, very much. You've got to believe me! If you were hanged, I would die! And so would Michael. Please! Please, believe me."

The looks of fright and anger slowly faded, doubt replaced them. Then, suddenly he hurled himself into my waiting arms. I sank to the floor, cradling him, and we both just sobbed for a long time. "I just couldn't believe you would do this to me. I'm sorry I ever doubted, but I was scared terrible."

He choked back a few tears and began. "I was trimming along the sidewalk and this car pulls up. A lady got out of it and asked me to help with the cases on top that was coming loose. She had me reach up and hold the cover on one side while she pulled from the other side. I had to really stretch. All at once it felt like a bee stung my ass. I looked down and there was a little dart sticking in me and that's the last I remember until the cops dragged me to my feet. I told them I was not a runaway, but they didn't believe me."

"They brought me back here and read that terrible paper to me and I thought my whole life had been wasted." Reaching up, he patted the young constable. "He was as kind to me as he could be and I could tell he didn't want to do what he had to. He even cried a little."

Jennings looked tired and defeated. "Yes we were. We 3; I 3; should have known better. We don't get many runaways in the whole of England. The penalties are too severe. But, lately, we've had a rash; fifteen by our latest count. All claimed they were abducted. Three were hanged and the rest sent to the mines. Why couldn't we have seen the pattern?" he lamented.

"They were probably never contacted, either," Jennings admitted. "They're probably still waiting to find out about them. The Home Secretary is going to have quite a scandal to explain. I only hope the ones we sent to the mines are still alive. We'll try to find out who is behind this nefarious scheme and why. But I swear, sometimes this job really, really sucks. This has been the very worst day of my life."

"I'll talk to the magistrate and have the charge quashed," he continued. "You should be able to pick Robbie up in the morning."

"Thank you, Inspector. I can imagine it's a tough job." To Robbie, I said, "You're going to have to stay here tonight. I have to meet Michael's flight at Gatwick at 4:30 tomorrow morning, but it's not far and we'll both be here right off."

"Get him some blankets and a decent meal." Jennings instructed. "I'm sorry, Robbie. Truly I am."

"I'll stay with him, sir," spoke up the young constable. "I have a young'un and I think this one needs a friend." He picked Robbie up from my arms, hugged him and deposited him on one of the bunks.

I kissed my boy and we both left 3; Jennings to see the magistrate and me to meet Michael. He had been trying to reach me, but was now over the Atlantic.

Michael's flight was on time and as soon as he cleared, I collapsed into his arms. He listened quietly as I sobbed out the account of what happened. It's a good thing at least one of us can keep his head at any given time. "It's my fault," I bawled. "I didn't keep him safe!"

"Hey lover, it sounds like you did everything you could. Why on earth is this happening? Who's behind it?"

"I don't know," I sniffed. "But the inspector promised to get to the bottom of it." I stood in Michael's strong arms for a few more minutes, then, "Come on. Let's get him and take him home."

We arrived back in Brompton just as Inspector Jennings was unlocking his office. I introduced Michael and we all entered.

"The release order should be on the fax," and he went to get it. "Here it is. Hmmm! The Home Secretary has suspended all hangings until we solve this awful mystery." He picked up the intercom and said, "Constable, please bring Robbie to my office. His masters are here to take him home."

When he didn't get a reply, he called, "Ned? Are you there?" Still no reply. "Something's wrong!" And the three of us dashed into the lock-up.

Both the door to Robbie's cell and the outside rear door were standing open. Instead of Robbie in the cell, we found the constable, bound and gagged. We quickly cut him loose, but it was a few minutes until he could talk. "They came and got him! They took him away. There were too many and I couldn't stop them," he gasped

Jennings grabbed my arm, "Come on! We haven't a moment to loose! Ned, get some back-up and follow us."

We jumped into the inspector's car and he tore out of town along a gravel road. "Squire Henry has the nasty habit of taking the law into his own hands when he thinks the courts are too slow or too lenient," he explained. "I just pray we're not too late!" Michael and I were frozen in shock.

In less than five minutes we roared into the courtyard of a manor house. A crowd was gathered and in their center was a raised platform with an overhead hoist. Off to the side, a man was turning a winch that was slowly raising our strangling and wildly kicking boy off the platform. He was clawing at the rope around his neck and already his face was a ghastly shade of purple.

Michael and I bolted from the car. Scattering people right and left 3; including the Squire, himself 3; he ran up on the platform and lifted Robbie by his legs trying desperately to keep the noose from completely choking him. I tackled the winch-turner, knocked him aside and released the rope. I saw Michael sink to the floor of the platform with Robbie, just as the boy lost control of his bladder. Michael immediately began to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as I began to struggle with the man I had punched.

Jennings had been right behind us and he fired his service piece into the air. "All of you get back!" he thundered. "I will shoot anyone who comes near." The man I was fighting backed off and I ran to Michael.

"You!" Jennings said to the Squire. "I charge you with assaulting my constable, unlawful removal of a prisoner, and the attempted hanging of a young slave without court approval. You will have at least ten years breaking rocks to contemplate your misdeeds. If that young boy dies, I will personally see to it that you never walk free again!" By this time the back-up had arrived and they speedily placed Squire Henry in their van and dispersed the crowd.

I held one of Robbie's arms and felt for a pulse. "He's alive! I can feel his pulse!" Michael redoubled his efforts as I noticed the red welts covering our boy's body. He had been thoroughly whipped. It was a blessing in a way; they had busied themselves with this rather than hanging him right off. There was an ugly open wound on his neck where the rope had cut him.

"Right! Good lad!" replied Jennings. "I want you to know that you are not at fault. I'm sure you resisted stoutly."

"Thank you, sir. But all that matters to me is the hope that Robbie will recover."

Two EMT's came running up and we quickly explained what had happened. "Please, sir, let us have him," they requested Michael. He surrendered his burden to them and sat back fighting tears.

The EMT's laid Robbie down and placed an oxygen mask over his face. One of them began to gently probe his neck. Satisfied, he looked up and told us, "I don't believe any vertebra were damaged, so that's fortunate." After about five minutes, the oxygen did its task and Robbie began to breathe on his own again. "We need to get him to hospital. We won't know if there is brain damage from lack of oxygen until he regains consciousness."

Moving him gently onto a litter, they strapped him down and slid it into their ambulance. "I'll go with him," shouted Michael and he jumped in just as they were closing the doors.

The ride back to Brompton with Inspector Jennings seemed to take forever. I sat there just numb from the shock of what had happened. 'After all I told him yesterday, this had to happen!' I thought. 'If he dies, I'll never forgive myself!'

Arriving at the hospital, I joined Michael waiting for the medics to complete their work. We didn't talk, just sat there with our arms around each other. We didn't need to speak to convey our hopes and fears.

After about an hour, the pediatric surgeon who had been called came out to speak to us. "You have been mighty fortunate. A few seconds more in that noose and you would be burying him. The X-rays show no damage to his neck bones, so that's fortunate. His voice box is bruised but I think he'll be able to talk. He won't be much of a singer, though. He was awake and alert, so there appears to be no brain damage. So, I believe he's going to be all right. It was a very close thing."

"He has a lot of nasty whip marks all over; they really thrashed him. He'll have some scaring, I'm afraid. I'd like to get hold of the chappies who did that to him. It's despicable!"

"Yes, come with me. We gave him something to help him sleep, but he's been asking for you."

In the bed lay our boy, looking frail and vulnerable. Michael and I stood on either side, holding his hands. I could tell he was in pain from the whip marks. He gazed up at first one then the other of us.

"I thought it was over and I would never see you again," he whispered. "You saved me again! Oh, Masters! I love you both so very, very much!" And with that, he dropped off to sleep.

To give him time to recover, I asked for and received a three-week postponement of Robbie's manumission hearing. By the time the new date came around, he was back on his feet although still a bit weak. His voice, however, was rather a rasp.

The day of his hearing, we arrived early at the chancery court. Since this was a manumission hearing, Robbie would have to be completely naked and in chains. As we entered the courtroom, he looked up in astonishment to see all his classmates 3; and Mrs. McGreggor, too 3; sitting in the visitors' gallery. He choked and turned to me in distress. "Master, they're all going to see my parts!"

He proceeded to the petitioner's table and had another surprise. Sitting at the table with Sir Robert was Peter Berg. I was puzzled, but decided not to ask.

"I don't know. Your solicitor just told me to sit here. Decided to give the girls a little thrill, did you?" he teased Robbie. Reaching down, he gave Robbie's prick a few strokes under the table.

At that moment, the bailiff entered and cried the court to order. The judge, The Honorable Penelope Middleton, swept in, took her place and the hearing was in session.

"I have here a petition from Marcus Shay and Michael Lange, the lawful owners of the slave, Robert North, asking that the bonds of slavery between them and Robert North be dissolved and that said Robert North be adjudged a free subject of our Sovereign William. Will the petitioners and their slave please approach the bench."

"Young slave," she addressed Robbie, "do you wish to be adjudged a free citizen? Are you ready to undertake the burdens of free citizenship?"

"Yes, your honor. My masters have promised to help me become a valued free citizen. And they have been the best masters any slave could want."

Pippa continued, "With the petition is a letter from the Slave Authority, attesting that this slave has fulfilled all their considerable requirements for manumission and recommending the petition of the owners be approved. Do I hear any objections?"

Spontaneous applause broke out from the gallery and the judge allowed it to continue for some moments before graveling the hearing back to order again. "Is there a Peter Berg in the chamber?" she asked.

"Please come forward, Peter," she commanded him. When he was in place, she smiled down at him and said, "Peter, you know it is not proper at all for a free citizen to stand here in chains." Handing him a key, she instructed him, "Will you please remove your friend's shackles so that he may stand before us as a free citizen should."

Peter gulped, turned toward Robbie and began his task. When the chains were piled on the floor, he took Robbie by the hand and presented him to the crowd.

Sir Robert beamed; he always did have a flair for the theatrical. Then, he rose and handed the Judge another paper.

She took it from him, read it and remarked. "I was expecting this. You have been busy, Sir Robert." Turning to us, she read, "We, Michael Shay and Paul Lange, being free subjects of our Sovereign William wish to adopt Robert Edward North, a free boy, and declare him to be our son and heir."

Robbie stood frozen, his mouth wide open. Then he just stood there and sobbed. After a while he pulled both Michael and me into a tight hug and continued to sob. Peter stood in the background, his face shining. His best friend was going to have a father 3; well, two of them 3; who he was certain would love and care for him. I waved him over to us to join in our hug.

"Robert," said the judge, "you are of an age where you are considered competent to make your wishes known in this matter. Do you wish to be adopted by petitioners?"

Robbie continued our hug for a few seconds, but then faced the judge and the words just tumbled from him. "Oh your honor! When I was a very little boy, I always hoped I might have a real father some day. A man, strong and loving, who would teach me how to be a man. But every man who took me only wanted to hurt me and I knew my hope would never be."

"Then, suddenly, Master Marcus and Master Michael rescued me as I was on my way to die. And they promised to be good to me and love me. I didn't believe them at all. I acted terrible! I swore at them and called them bad names and refused to do even the easiest work they asked me to."

"Yeah, they beat my ass some times and it hurt. But somehow I began to know that it hurt them, too when I didn't behave. And I began to believe them; they really did love me and only wanted the best for me. And just a short time ago, they rescued me again from death."

"I thought and said some very bad things about Master Marcus that day and I am very, very ashamed of myself. But he forgave me. That's the kind of men they are and I'm just a little boy who can't begin to be worthy of being their son."

"But, no matter. They have offered me a gift so priceless that it takes my breath away."

"Your Honor, I would gladly remain their slave all my life just to be their son for one day. They are the most kind, brave, strong, loving men on this earth and they have given me a life and a family 3; the only family I have ever had 3; and to be their son! I have simply, simply, simply 3;!" He had run out of words.

"I will take that as affirmative," said Pippa gently. She, too was caught up in the moment.

"Now, therefore, let it be known that on this date, Robert Edward North 3; henceforth to be known as Robert Edward Shay-Lange 3; is indeed the son and heir of Marcus Shay and Michael Lange. God save the King. This hearing is closed."

Robbie had only a few seconds to hug Michael and me before he was engulfed by his classmates and teacher. He was still naked, but no one seemed to care, least of all, Robbie. We had a son and I have never in my life been more happy!

Epilog

All three of them plunged into the crowd of well-wishers and were happily accepting their congratulations and accolades when there was a sudden shout, "Look out! She has a gun!"

Before Robbie could react, Marcus and Michael both forced him to the ground and tried to shield him with their bodies, as a gunshot rang out. A single shot fired by a bitter, demented old woman 3; Lady Swickert 3; had turned what was supposed to have been a day of joy and gladness into a day of terror and sadness.

When the mist cleared he looked down upon two people 3; a man and a young boy 3; standing on a hilltop before a grave into which they had gently placed a coffin only a few minutes earlier. The other mourners had left and it was just the two of them, holding each other and weeping.

He and the man had been lovers 3; no partners 3; for more years than either of them wished to remember, never minding that, for much of that time, one of them had been slave and the other free.

The boy was their son 3; a child everyone else had consigned to the dustbin. But they had persevered and love and faith had won out as it always does, turning this sad and neglected child into an outstanding son, just on the verge of young manhood 3; a son who had loved them both with all his being. The boy had spoken the simple truth during the service when he said, "You believed in me! You both believed in me before I believed in myself!"

"Why?" asked the boy. "How can I ever be happy again? Both of you were my life and now one of you is gone."

That he was safe and with friends, just waiting to welcome them when their time came.

At his side, stood two young friends, and behind him, their hands resting lightly on his shoulders stood two older men. One of them had saved him from a life of pain and sorrow even if he had been very cruel at first. The other had been a good and faithful friend when they had needed him most. One of the men placed an open book into his hands 3; open to the last page on which had been inscribed four names:

He looked at the fifth name just added to that last page. "Will there be other names added?" he asked.

Maiocxx

Closing the Books

A Five Little Boy Slaves Story

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
Willie and Joe 3; a Tough Case

Chapter 2
Freedom at Last?

Chapter 3
How to Choose a Son

Chapter 4
It's a Matter of Trust

Epilog

The end

Author's note

Maiocxx

Closing the Books

A Five Little Boy Slaves Story

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

Table of Contents

Chapter 1Willie and Joe 3; a Tough Case

Chapter 2Freedom at Last?

Chapter 3How to Choose a Son

Chapter 4It's a Matter of Trust

Epilog

The end

Author's note

Chapter 1
Willie and Joe 3; a Tough Case

Chapter 2
Freedom at Last?

Chapter 3
How to Choose a Son

Chapter 4
It's a Matter of Trust