Patrick

I Bought Five Little Boy Slaves

Chapter 24-..

Chapter 24
The Castle

"Boy, are you asking me to give you the strap?"

"Master, no Master!" was the boy's high pitched and surprised response.

"Then stand still, boy! Slaves don't show any emotions when someone plays with them. Stand still, look down and don't grimace!"

"Master, yes Master." the young slave answered sheepishly, not knowing how to manage that.

I continued massaging his scrotum and perineum. I could feel the tension in his body and his efforts of trying to keep still. Of course, for a ten year old boy this was almost an impossible task but he fought. As I started to stroke the lower side of his penis the tension built up rapidly towards the edge so I stopped. Slowly his panting faded. I told him to stand at attention in front of me.

"Marcus, what I tell you now is nothing new to you but you should always remember that. You are a slave boy. You belong to me; you are a piece of property, not a human being anymore. To the world outside the boy Marcus doesn't exist anymore. You have no rights, only duties to perform. What I'm trying to say is that if we are outside you have to act like a slave. Don't speak without permission, when someone asks you something look at me and I'll decide. Otherwise keep your head down; always look at your feet. Never let your eyes wander around and don't dare to look at a free person or I'd have to punish you in front of this person, regardless whether I want it or not. The only exception may be a game you are ordered to play with other kids. Address every free person with 'Sir', 'Ma'am' or 'Miss', even younger kids. You will always walk behind me unless you are required to open a door for me. Do you understand?"

"Master, yes Master," he answered meekly.

"O.k., I know I have told you many times. The reason for repeating is that we are going out today. I was out with Julian but that was different. He was in bondage and on a leash. From my prefect boy I expect perfect behaviour without any restraints. Maybe you will be teased and called names from free kids or adults. You will feel embarrassment and humiliation and I'm sorry but some of that will maybe be caused by me too. Nevertheless you are not to show any reactions. Just keep on doing what you are doing or keep still."

"Master, yes Master."

"Marcus, for the world outside you are just another piece of furniture. It'll help if you remember that to me you will be always my special little boy whom I love."

"Master, yes Master." Marcus managed a week smile. "Thank you, Master."

"Well boy, there's another thing I think you won't like. Put yourself face up over my lap and spread your legs."

He gave me a quizzical look but did as been told.

"Boy, I hope you remember my speech about touching your private parts. But you're in an age when your penis gets hard even without you knowing why. If you get hard in public it'd be embarrassing not only for you but for me as your owner too. Therefore I think you'll agree we have to take actions preventing you from getting hard. The chain that I have attached to your penis already will help you. Now as I connect the other end to the ring between your legs, there is now way your penis can rise again without permission."

Marcus whimpered as I pulled his cock down.

"Stop that! It doesn't hurt. Do you want everyone to know you have no control over your body? Now go and put on your tunic."

Marcus bowed his way out. He had no idea what it really meant to be a little slave boy. The people he had met so far were all kind to him because they knew him. But in public he would be pushed around, beaten and humiliated. Especially other kids would be cruel to him, even former friends. If he was with me I would protect him from the worst but as my prefect boy he would have to do tasks for me alone soon.

He returned and had wisely chosen the new tunic with two holes keeping his nipple rings exposed. I made him standing in front of me. He turned slowly while I watched him. My trousers started to become tight as I looked at my little love. Marcus stopped turning around and sunk to his knees. Not looking up he brought his face to my crotch and opened the flies with his teeth. As he pulled at my pants my rigid cock popped out, hitting his right eye. Marcus flinched but wrapped his mouth around the pole without hesitating. I could see the tears welling up in his irritated eye but as I told him earlier he fought not to show any discomfort. I was proud of him. I reached down, took him by his armpits and lifted him up so I could kiss the tears away. When he was back on his knees he swallowed my cock again, now with a smiling face.

The boy was a perfect cocksucker. Within minutes he brought me over the edge and with a scream I pumped my cream into his throat. Marcus swallowed all of it and after licking my penis clean he put it back into my trousers and pulled the flies shut. He shuffled a few steps back and got into resting position, his hands folded behind his head, legs slightly spread and eyes down to the floor. When I had composed myself again I couldn't suppress a delighted sigh. I couldn't tell how much I loved this boy.

"Right, let's go, boy!"

Marcus jumped up and went to the table where the heavy back bag was waiting for him. Though he was my love he was still a slave with duties to perform. I liked to see him working, his muscles straining and struggling. The bag was heavy because of a bottom plate of lead that could be removed if other heavy things had to be carried. This time there was only my portable computer and some papers in it so the lead was in to give the boy something to do. In the side pockets of the bag were some tools of discipline like a strap, cuffs and a leash but I was confident not to need them. Nevertheless I made sure Marcus knew they were there.

It was a nice day in early autumn, still quite warm so I decided to walk the mile into the village. With my long legs I set a strong pace and Marcus had to jog along to follow. As we passed the house of Sebastian's parents little Luke spotted us and ran to the gate to greet us. Thomas came out and we chatted a while. Luke saw that Marcus penis was pulled down by a small chain. Curious like all boys of his age he had to explore that immediately. Marcus stood still with his head bowed as Luke bent forward to get a close look.

"Daddy, Marcus has a chain pulling his weewee down!" he shouted to his father.

Marcus blushed heavily as Thomas stopped his talking and looked at him. Luke, oblivious to Marcus discomfort, reached out for the chain and pulled sharply. Marcus bit on his lip to suppress a cry. Knowing that interfering with the kid's actions would cause him a severe punishment he grabbed the straps of the back bag to hold on them. Marcus managed to keep still after a second pull but felt tears welling up in his eyes.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Luke asked Marcus innocently while pulling a third time.

Marcus remembered his instructions and gave me a pained look. I nodded my assent. "Sir, yes it does if you pull, Sir." Marcus whispered.

Luke was taken aback by that response. Again an older boy had addressed him as 'sir', something he was required to do with adults. And he had caused an older boy some pain without being hit himself. His curiosity increased. He bent forward and brought his head between Marcus' legs who had spread them dutifully to allow the younger boy a closer look. He tried his best not to show any embarrassment but his red face told everything. Luke pulled again, bringing out some tears of the slave's eyes. He expected Marcus to punish him but nothing happened, even when he twisted the ring between the slave's legs.

"Luke, leave the boy alone, come to me!" Thomas called him.

Very reluctantly the little boy started to move to his father but didn't leave Marcus without another sharp pull. Marcus almost dropped to his knees in pain. He was angry with the boy but knew better than to allow this feeling go further. He reminded himself that he was just a slave and Luke was a free boy with a right to do that to him. Nevertheless he wished that his master had given him something to cover his parts. He also guessed that there were worse things in store for him so he composed himself and returned to his resting position.

I bade Thomas and his son goodbye and without taking notice of my slave boy I turned around and headed further to the village. Marcus, still in pain, struggled to follow me. We met several kids on our way and most of them teased my slave in cruel ways only kids can do to each other. I saw a friend of mine sitting in a coffee shop so I went in. There was a sign at the door indicating no animals were allowed inside and a dog was already bound to the handrail of the stairs. I pointed to the sign and Marcus just nodded slightly and positioned himself beside the dog, facing the wall with his head bowed, focusing the floor. I ordered him to turn around and not to move until I came back.

Marcus had again to fight some tears. A short walk with his master had taught him more about being a slave than the months before. Not long ago he was a regular customer in the coffee shop, buying sweets from his meagre pocket money. Now a simple sign blocked him out of the shop. It didn't even say 'no slaves allowed' but a simple gesture of his master had told him what he was now: just an animal like the dog beside him. The dog's leash was quite long and so the dog could get up and sniff at the boy. Marcus, scared of dogs since he was very little, almost panicked but realized that his master had ordered him not to move. The dog stuck his nose into the boy's butt crack. Tears of fear ran down Marcus' face but the fear of disobeying an order from his master was stronger so he kept still. He realized that he was wrong in his earlier assessment to be like the dog. The pet showed him that it was at least free to move around as long as the leash allowed; a liberty Marcus knew he should never dare to take. He shed more tears as the thought of the dog as one of his betters entered the boy's mind.

I had a good view of the boy through the window so I saw him crying. I felt sorry for him but knew he had to go through this. There was no other way to learn but the hard one. The dog had lost his interest but the boy's relieve was only short. Unlike the near town the village had not many slave boys in the streets so standing so exposed in front of one of the most popular places in the village the boy drew attention. Some adults and most kids just insulted him by calling him names or telling him that he was not more than a piece of shit. Marcus just stood their and suffered quietly. Even as some boys threw acorns and chestnuts at him he didn't move, just let some tears run down his cheeks.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain as someone had slapped in his face. His chin was lifted and he saw a boy of 15 years who was known as a bully. Marcus knew that it was about to become worse and hoped his master would come out to rescue him. He tried to keep his eyes down but the boy immediately shouted to his companions.

"Look at that filthy son of a whore. He looked at a free man! Hadn't your master taught manners?"

Marcus got another slap in his face and bowed his head again. The boy continued to scold and smack him. Marcus fought not to cry out. I decided to intervene. I paid the bill and went out. The boy zipped his jeans as I stepped through the door and a pool of urine had formed around Marcus' feet. I looked at Marcus and then at the boy who just laughed.

"Hey mister, if this is your slave you should better put some diapers on him so he can't piss himself!"

I said nothing, just passed him and Marcus.

"Come!"

Marcus followed me with a tearstained face and wet legs. When we reached the burial ground I pointed to the well and told Marcus to clean his legs and feet. I waited until he was finished.

"Tell me!"

"Master, I'm sorry Master," he cried.

"You pissed yourself?"

Marcus thoughts raced. He knew he was not allowed to lie but also he had been told not to tell about free people. After a few seconds he shook his head slightly.

"Tell me!"

Marcus gulped.

"Master, he took his penis out and told me to suck, Master. I said that I was not allowed to move and he should ask my master for permission for me to do so. He just laughed and started to piss at me, Master."

Marcus burst into tears again. I reached out and pulled him close to me.

"Master, they hit me, hurt me and called me names, Master. Why were they doing that, I haven't done anything to them, Master?"

"Boy, they did that because they could. It's quite simple. You are a slave and they free boys. I'm sorry but this will happen to you from time to time. You'll have to accept it."

I had wrapped my arms around him and stroked his head.

"Master, you are not mad with me, Master?"

"No boy. Why should I? I told you not to move and you didn't, did you? You will learn to take such things without crying. If you don't react, they'll loose interest and go away."

"Master, I'll try, Master."

"Well Marcus, I think you have figured out already that nobody would help you if you decided to run away."

I looked into his eyes and sensed that this must have hurt him.

"But I don't think my little love would ever think about anything like that." I quickly added.

Marcus sniffled but managed to smile.

"Master, I said I'm forever yours and I meant it, Master."

"I know."

I said ruffling his hair. We went further through the village and Marcus realized we headed to the castle. It was not a real castle, more an old mansion, but it overlooked the village and was once owned by very powerful people. Now again a very powerful man lived there, shielded by the high walls around the estate. Before we entered the driveway I stopped and took a pair of very skimpy shorts out of his back bag before turning the boy around.

"Listen, boy. This is going to be a hard test for you. You'll have to show you can behave like a good slave boy should. If there is the slightest mistake from you I might lose this contract. Believe me you don't want to find out what happens then. I love you Marcus but this meeting is very important for me."

Marcus gulped hard. I ruffled his hair and smiled at him.

"But I know you will do fine. Just do what you have learned. Keep always next to me and make no sound, whatever happens to you or around you. Keeps your eyes down and you head bowed. Understood?"

The boy nodded meekly. I took a pair of white panties out from his bag and held it out for him to step in. He looked at me a bit puzzled as they seemed to fit barely for a six year old. When he stood in with two legs I pulled it up quickly. The panties were made of a very elastic fabric that clang tightly to his skin. It didn't really hide anything; his cock, balls and chain were clearly outlined, but it gave him a little bit of dignity. He reached to touch the pants but hesitated. I told him that it was all right and he should adjust the fabric for being comfortable to him.

"Marcus, from the moment we walk through this gate you won't get any kindness from me or anyone else. Whatever happens in there, just remember I'll always love my little one."

"Master, thank you Master. I love you too, Master."

Marcus got into position behind me, his head bowed and his hands behind his back. We were greeted by a white haired butler who led us into a large but dark room. All walls were covered with bookshelves and comfortable chairs were set in front of a fireplace that was almost the only source of light since heavy curtains covered the windows. On our way in I hadn't seen any slaves though I knew they were there, not only by the doors that swung silently open without any touch. My slave boy was two steps behind me and followed without any noise.

The butler asked me to wait a few moments and left. I knew we were watched and so I decided to have a look at the bookshelves. As I wandered along looking at old and rare books I came to a place where my way was blocked by a chair but I didn't stop. Just before I bumped into the chair Marcus had passed me and pulled the chair back, placing it on exactly the same spot as before. We repeated this three times more and no sound was audible other than the clacking of my shoes on the wooden floor. Finally I took a seat in one of the chairs and waited.

The butler appeared again and asked me to follow him into another room. In the middle of the dark room I could see two divans, surrounded by a kind of satin curtain. Some lanterns bathed the arrangement in subdued light. My host sat on one of the divans and waited for me. He was clad in a traditional Arab dress. It seemed as if he had put up a kind of a Bedouin tent to meet his business partners. He rose as I approached him.

"As-Salamu `Alayka, Misha"

"Wa alayka salam, Ahmed."

"Thank you for coming, Misha." My host said, indicating me to take a seat.

"Thank you for inviting me, Ahmed. I didn't know you had brought your old world with you."

"Just a little reminder of days long ago, my friend. I hope you like it."

When we sat comfortably on the divans he clapped his hands twice. Oriental music filled the room and suddenly a boy of about twelve or thirteen, clad in transparent satin pants, jumped between the divans into the room. The boy had thick black hair, his skin was almost golden and his face showed the characteristic Arabic features. He was tall and slender, well toned muscles played through his skin as he started slowly dancing to the music. It was a very erotic dance and the boy surely got our attention. I didn't see Marcus but didn't worry about him.

Marcus had found himself grabbed and taken to a totally dark room. He couldn't see anything and was scared but he remembered his orders to keep still whatever happens. Countless hands removed his tunic and panties, applied oil and herbs all over his body, combed his hair, put some very light fabric on and worked a good amount of ointment into the palms of his hands. Five minutes later he found himself being pushed into a room where his master and a strange looking man laid on large cushions, watching an almost naked boy dancing in front of them.

When the dancer had finished he disappeared behind the curtain and returned with a large silver teapot in his hands. It had no handle so he had do balance it on his palms. He approached my host he poured steaming tea into a glass standing on a small table beside the divan. Then he made some steps back and turned to his left side. Marcus felt a hand between his shoulders pushing him forward. He got the hint, passed my divan and met the other boy in the middle of the room. Marcus looked up just half a second but could see the pain in the other boy's eyes. He realized that the teapot must be very hot but didn't hesitate to hold out his hands for it.

It was very hot and Marcus fought hard not to cry out or worse. The other boy gave him a quick smile, full of encouragement but also relief. Marcus held his head down as he moved over to me and filled my glass with hot tea. He had no idea what to do next but knew he couldn't hold the hot pot much longer so he decided to move back to where he was pushed out. His hands burned like fire and tears welled up in his eyes. As soon as he reached the curtain the pot was taken from him and someone put another amount of ointment to his hands, soothing the pain quickly. Still he couldn't see anyone in the dark, just hints of movements in the dim light.

I was surprised to see my boy clad and shining like the other boy but was kind of proud of him because of the way he served the tea bravely. Both boys returned half a minute later and each one carried a tray with some oriental fruits and other snacks. Keeping an eye on his fellow servant and copying his movements Marcus knelt in front of me and held the tray up, his head down between his stretched arms. Ahmed and I tasted the tea and some of the snacks while we did some small talk. I wondered how long Marcus could hold the tray in this uncomfortable way. After about ten minutes I sensed some trembling in his body. I don't know if the other boy had similar problems but Ahmed didn't look very pleased and waved his boy away. I did the same with Marcus.

A couple of minutes later the boys returned carrying a low table with a water pipe on it. They placed between the divans and each boy took one of the mouthpieces and handed it to his master. Both boys retreated into the dark. Music started again and the dancer made his way back into the light with energetic and highly erotic movements. The music changed, a second instrument joined in and much to my surprise Marcus danced into the room in the same way as the other boy did. The first steps were a bit awkwardly but soon there was no difference in the boy's movements. The music increased its pace and the boys jumped and whirled around. Finally, with the last beats of the music, the boys dropped to their knees and slit towards the divans of their masters, only that Marcus ended up in front of Ahmed and his companion in front of me. Both boys panted heavily but held their heads respectfully bowed.

I was astonished but also highly aroused. I had never seen such an erotic boy's dance and of course never dreamed of Marcus doing so. Ahmed just smiled. He reached down and lifted Marcus chin. The boy kept his eyes down. My host stroked his cheeks gently. I took the opportunity to get a better look of the boy in front of me. He was an exotic beauty. There was no wonder why Ahmed held this boy. My cock stirred against my pants. Without hesitation the boy lowered his face to my groin and started to unzip the flies. I looked over to my host and saw Marcus head disappearing under the large white dress the man held up. I lifted my hips so the boy could pull my pants down. As if nothing happened Ahmed resumed the small talk.

The boy worked slowly but expertly on my swollen member. He pleasured me with all his skills but managed to keep me from coming for almost forty minutes. By the way Ahmed's voice changed I could tell Marcus did a good job too. As if the boys were a well trained team they brought us over the edge at the same time. To my surprise the boy drew his head back and my seed plastered his face. Marcus emerged from beneath Ahmed's dress; his face was covered with white cum too. Obviously my host liked it that way and had pushed Marcus from his erupting cock. My boy cleaned my cock and pulled my pants up. He kept kneeling in front of me, his head bowed, but didn't try to wipe the seed of. Ahmed sighed.

"Misha, my friend, where did you find this fine specimen of slave boy?"

"It's a villager, Ahmed. I bought him with his friends after a very stupid stunt."

"I see. Very talented. Looks like a natural."

"No, my friend, he's not. He's one of the most intelligent boys I've ever seen. He has accepted his place and everything he does is the result of calculation, will power and fear of consequences. But, of course, you're right. He's talented. Unfortunately some skills have been forced into him before he became my slave."

"What a pity. But nevertheless he's well trained. I think he would fit into my house."

"Sure he would, Ahmed. But don't you already have a very fine slave with this boy here?"

The boy's cock was unrestrained and I had started to caress his parts almost unconsciously. My host laughed.

"I think you're right, my friend. I have a fine boy, but he's not a slave. Hassan is my nephew."

I pulled my hand back, shocked by his words.

"Ahmed, I'm sorry, but 3;"

"No need to be, my friend. Let me explain. All boys in my family were trained to serve until the age of fourteen. I was and so was Hassan's father. Usually the boys served their fathers but sometimes a boy was transferred to the head of the clan if he didn't have a boy of his own or if one family had two sons of similar age. The purpose of the training is to teach the boys discipline, respect and obedience. Our family ruled parts of our country for centuries. We believe that the boys become better leaders if the knew what it meant to serve. I still believe that. Unfortunately I have no son of my own and so my brother sent his son to me since I am head of the clan. Hassan lives with me for eight years now. As servant he lives the life of a slave. But at the same time I'm responsible for his education. He will play an important role in our country one time and I'll make sure he is ready. So he visits one of the best schools that happened to be in the town. That's part of the reason why I have bought this estate."

I cleared my throat but he continued.

"Nevertheless his duty as servant is to entertain me and my guests. My friend, the reason why I had asked you to visit me today is not only you are skilled in financial things. Part of Hassan's training is about sex. So far he has learned the art of fellatio as you have experienced. But it's tradition for the servants to lose their virginity at their thirteenth birthday. The deflowering has to be performed by a guest of the house who has the skills to make this unforgettable for the boy, in a positive way, of course. You have these skills so I want to ask you to do the honours today."

Chapter 25
Hassan

"You know what we're supposed to do here, boy?"

The young Arab nodded.

"Do you think you can do what your uncle wants?"

Hassan nodded again but I could sense he wasn't convinced. I pulled him closer and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His breathing increased. Slowly I caressed his naked back, trying to calm him a bit. While rubbing him with one hand I carefully pulled the string that held is thin pants. The fabric fell to the floor. I kissed his hair, inhaling the scents of the boy. I managed to open my trousers and shirt. Again there were little hands from nowhere taking my clothes off and away so I didn't have to let the boy go. I had my face buried in his hair but I noticed that at least one little hand was as black as the night.

The boy tensed as I lifted him up and carried him to the pool. I held him closely as I took the steps inside, kissing his neck and shoulders. The boy remained passively. Warm water washed around our legs as we reached the bottom of the tube. I lowered him down without stopping my administrations to his body. As we both sat I carefully rinsed his face. For the first time he allowed his eyes to meet my gaze. As the rest of his body his deep brown eyes were just amazing.

"You are a very beautiful boy, Hassan."

A hint of a smile ran over the boy's face before it returned to its expressionless state.

"Now since you let me see your eyes would you let me hear your voice too?"

Hassan looked at me again, but with wide eyes, almost scared. I thought I knew the problem. If he were a slave it would be outrageous to speak to a stranger. Anger began to rise in me. How could Ahmed deprive his own blood of his boyhood? It wasn't right to treat a free boy like this.

"Hassan, I want you to talk with me. Whatever you are used to be outside this room, here and now you are a boy free to do what you want."

He stared at me for a long time. Then he lowered his head and whispered.

"Sir, that's not true, Sir. I might not be a real slave but I still have to do what Uncle and you want, Sir."

There was a certain amount of resignation in his voice. I changed tactics.

"Well, then I want you to tell me your story. Who is the boy I hold in my arms? And don't look for the easy way. Tell me everything." The boy kept silent. I didn't push him. Eventually he answered quietly.

"Sir, I'm sorry Sir. I can't tell you. Please punish me, Sir."

It was my turn to let him wait. There was something disturbing me in the way he spoke.

"Why should I punish you?"

"Sir, because I have to do what you say, Sir."

"That's what you said, not I. As I said, you aren't a slave and so free to decide. Now, shall we do as your uncle requested?"

Again he waited long before he nodded but again with a worried face. I wondered what was really going on there but was determined to find out. Not caring about the water I left behind I lifted the boy up and carried him to the bed. For a few seconds I admired the boy's beautiful body before I bathed him with kisses. My hand ran over his smooth skin. He lay there almost apathetic and let me roam around every part of his body.

I kneaded his soft soles and soft they were indeed. After just a few months of running bare Marcus' soles had developed some horny skin. Either this kid had a very effective ointment to treat his feet or he wasn't running without shoes very often. After I had felt the palms of his hands I doubted that Hassan was a servant of any kind but a good actor. I really wondered now where this might lead to.

Slowly I stroked and pinched the boy's tender nipples while my tongue ran round his lovely belly button. Whatever the boy had in his mind there was something he couldn't control. I kissed my way down to his boyish parts. Not a single hair could be seen on his groin. Without warning I slurped his little balls into my mouth. His semi hard penis grew to its full glory, a nice 12 cm [5 inch] pole pointed up to his chest.

My tongue ran over his shaft up to his circumcised glans, licking and teasing it all the time. The boy's breathing increased and though he tried to keep calm he started to moan. Using all my skill my hands and mouth soon brought him to the edge. But just as he was about to come I stopped. Caressing his skin in other places I held his hands away from his groin. I waited until he came down a bit before starting all over.

Hassan really tried to keep his composure but he had no chance, after all he was a young teen. I kept him close for about 20 minutes. All the time I offered him relief when he told me what was going on but all he said was that he couldn't. His penis was wet from my salvia and his pre-cum. His face was trenched in sweat and tears. I knew I was cruel to the boy but I wanted to find out everything.

Suddenly I lifted his legs and pushed the knees up to his shoulders. My cock was hard and I lined it up against his pink little rose. I didn't really intend to break in but this was the moment of truth. His whole body shivered. As I expected the boy broke down. He started sobbing and begged me to stop. I didn't move but told him to speak.

"Sir, you're right, I'm not a slave. Please, Sir!"

"So why this charade?"

"Sir, I'm sorry. Ahmed said it was necessary. Please Sir, Ahmed will tell you everything."

The boy was crying now. I let his legs go but there was one task to finish. Despite his fear he was still hard. It took me only seconds to send him over the edge. I swallowed every bit of his boyish cream while he screamed his lungs out. When I looked up again I was surrounded by about ten boys, all nude and as black as could be, even their eyeballs were not white but dark grey. They didn't look very friendly.

Then it hit me. My father had told me often about his time at the sultan's palace. It was there he met Ahmed who became a close friend to our family. Once my father told me about the sultan's servants. They came all from a small African tribe, black as the night and almost invisible in the dark. They were bred for centuries only for the sultan's service. The presence of at least ten of these slaves in this room could have only one meaning.

The boys had pushed me aside as they cared for their master. Hassan slowly recovered from his mighty orgasm. I had put my pants back on and waited for the boy regain his composure. He was helped sitting up by two of the boys while others wiped his body dry. All the time one of them looked at me. If gazes could kill I would be dead on the ground. Hassan looked at me clearly puzzled.

"I'm sorry, I thought you would enjoy." I apologized.

"Highness." I added after a short pause and bowed slightly.

"May I please be excused?" I asked and was about to leave.

"Wait, please."

Hassan was still panting.

"I had never experienced anything like that before. Thank you," he said slowly while his head turned slightly red.

"You're welcome, Highness."

"How do you know?"

"Your servants, Highness. My father told me about them and since only the royal family has slaves of this tribe you must be Prince Hassan."

The boy nodded while he was dressed. He said something in his own language to his servants. Their expression changed immediately. Bowing deeply two of them brought me my shirt and shoes.

"Your father was always welcome to my family. I can't remember him myself but Ahmed always held him in awe. Even these boys here know his name. "

It was true. My father lived for years at the royal court after I took over his business. I never knew what exactly he did there. I always guessed it was something financial. Maybe I should ask Ahmed. The boys finished dressing their young master, he was clad in long black trousers and a blue shirt, and we slowly walked back to the hall. Suddenly Hassan stopped and turned his face to me. "You wouldn't really have entered me if I had refused to tell, would you?"

"Of course not, Highness. I'm sorry if I went too far."

"No Sir, you didn't. And I knew you wouldn't," he smiled at me.

Even before we entered the hall I heard the sounds of a crying boy. Marcus knelt in front of Ahmed and bawled his eyes out. I felt a pain in my chest and instinctively I darted forward. Hassan stopped me and shook his head. I felt a bit foolish about my reaction. What did it matter if a slave boy cries?

We stood and watched the man and the boy. I heard Ahmed talking but couldn't understand the words. He spoke to Marcus firmly but gently. Every now and then the boy nodded or shook his head. I felt a bit relieved, not that I thought Ahmed would do my boy any harm. Ahmed beckoned us to come closer. He moved a bit back so Hassan could sit in front of him, resting his back on his mentor's broad chest.

I took my seat on the other pillow, looking at the still crying slave. He crawled over to me and was now kneeling beside my feet, not daring to look up. Hassan and Ahmed talked quietly in their own language and I could see the relief in Ahmed's face. Hassan seemed to ask the man about Marcus as he pointed at him. After he got an answer the young prince addressed me.

"I want to apologize for the test we had put up for you, Mr. Michael. You will understand when Ahmed tells you what you need to know. But I think there is someone who needs your attention right now."

"Highness, I don't think it'd be appropriate 3;" I started.

"Rubbish! I'm not blind; he isn't just a slave to you. Take him, he needs you. Don't worry about etiquette; there is none in this house."

Ahmed added an encouraging nod so I reached down and pulled my boy onto my lap. He was still crying and as I wrapped my arms around his body his little arms flew around my chest and he held on for dear life. I didn't know why he was crying in that moment but it didn't matter. There was no longer my tough little prefect slave in my arms but a little boy that needed protection from whatever bothered him.

Though I wasn't aware I was more than ready to give this protection to the little boy. Seeing my little Marcus crying so hard hurt me more than I wanted to admit. I was close to tears myself and placed a kiss on his forehead. As if this was a signal the boy let lose totally. He really broke down in my arms, bawled and sobbed helplessly. I was puzzled and looked at my hosts.

"You have a very tough boy, my friend. He's so strong and grown up one can easily overlook the little boy inside. A little boy with a heart full of love but as lonely as could be."

Ahmed's words were not spoken to hurt but they did. I held the boy even tighter. "Eliciting secrets from boys is a little hobby of me. Usually I get what I want to know."

Hassan nodded, somehow embarrassed.

"But I didn't have to dig deep. Once he had started it poured out of him. Don't be angry with him, he couldn't tell you. He would do everything for you and not because he is a slave. You're not only his master but his hero. He worships the ground you're walking on. He simply couldn't bother you with his sorrow."

"I've told him he could come to me with everything."

"He will but he needs to find the courage. Let him take his time. But you have to be ready to take the burden of his shoulders."

"Ahmed, he might be a slave but if he comes I'll be there."

"I know. My friend, you are a slaveholder and you are very demanding. But you also care. That's why I had invited you. We need your help."

He took the time to dink some tea.

"What I told you about the boys in our family is partly true. We all learned how to serve and it's not different with my nephew Hassan. I have once raised his father as now I did with the son. But time has changed. The boy's life has been threatened so we decided to move to this country. Hassan visits a small public school that is unknown to most of the people and I think all worked quite well. But unfortunately I have to go home soon. Hassan will be able to live at the school but he will need a guardian and a place where he can spend the holidays."

Hassan took over.

"My father wants the son of his mentor to become my guardian until I finished school. But you are a slaveholder and you have sex with boys so father wanted to be sure you wouldn't take advantage when you are able to. The easiest way to find out was to give you the opportunity."

"Knowing you for a long time I was sure you wouldn't but as Hassan said, we had to find out. I'm glad I was right." Ahmed added.

"I'm too. Even though I'll be not home very often I think we will have a good time," Hassan said.

"There is not much to do when Hassan is at school but they'll need someone who can make decisions on his behalf. For his security we can't make a link to our country. The school will only know you."

"I don't need much room for me, I'm not spoiled. The servants are going home with Ahmed."

"Wait, wait a moment! I can't do that!" I interrupted their speeches.

Silence fell over the room.

"You don't like me?" Hassan asked after a while with a whiny voice.

"No!" I replied, "Yes!" I corrected, recognizing my fault by the boy's expression.

"I like you, Hassan. It's not that. It's 3; it's 3; it's simply too fast." I stammered.

"We don't need your answer right now." Ahmed said and stood up.

"Take your time to decide. But you should know it wouldn't be at your expense. Money doesn't matter as long as the boy is safe."

Marcus crying had almost ceased so I handed him over to the servants to get dressed. I stood up too and addressed Ahmed.

"My friend, if I decide to do this it's not because money but out of respect for my father and our friendship. But I can't promise anything."

"I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

"I hope so. But you haven't told me why you have to leave, my friend. What is wrong?"

I could see pain rising in Ahmed's eyes and he turned his face away. I heard a sob and looked at Hassan who was wiping his eyes. When Ahmed eventually started to speak his voice trembled.

"Allah is our Lord and the Lord of all the worlds. He is the creator of all things; he sustains and nourishes everything; he gives life and death; anything good that we have is from him; and everything is dependant on him and nothing can happen unless Allah wills it to happen."

It took me a few seconds to understand the meaning of his words. I put his hands into mine.

"Ahmed, why?" I asked breathlessly.

"The great scourge of mankind didn't spare me, Mischa. I need to go home and arrange everything as long as I'm able to."

He put an arm around the shoulders of his charge.

"As much as I want to see this boy become a man it will not happen. But it would make it easier for me if I knew he is in good hands."

Trying not to burst into tears I hugged them both.

"He will be, Ahmed. He will be."

Chapter 26
Angels

Almost eight years ago my mother passed away and just about a month later my broken hearted father followed her. It was a very hard time for me and a much more for my slaves. In my grief I often beat them for hours just to relieve my frustration. When I came back to my senses weeks later I realised that I had abused them so much we never would be able to live together like we did before. I'm still ashamed I took the easy way out and gave them away. At least I found a good place for them.

I didn't come to the grave often. I kept my parents in my memories and sometime I felt as if they were still alive, living in a foreign country as they did the years before their death. But as I stood there in front of their gravestone, telling them what Ahmed hat told me, I suddenly felt the loss again, the grief and the pain, as if it was yesterday. I sunk to my knees and bawled my eyes out like Marcus did earlier.

I was pretty sure I felt Marcus' small hand at my back, trying to console me. But as I recovered after a while the hand was gone. Turning my head left and right I couldn't see him. Only as I turned around completely I saw him standing behind be, like frozen. He didn't move his head or body; just his knees were slightly trembling. My eyes followed his stare. At first I didn't see anything but gravestones. I read the names on the stones and then it hit me.

I had no idea Marcus' parents were buried here too. I knelt beside the boy and pulled him close.

"Seems as if there is a place to visit for both of us." I whispered in his ear.

Marcus didn't react; he just kept staring at the gravestone. I took his hand and wanted to walk over to the grave but the boy didn't move. Not wanting to carry him around I slapped his but with my hand, not very hard, just to get his attention. It worked. He gave me a questioning look. Our eyes met and I could sense a deep pain mixed with confusion.

"Have you ever been at your parent's grave, Marcus?" I asked gently.

He shook his head no.

"Why not?"

I could see the tears bursting out of his eyes. He tried to say something but all he produced were some sobs. I opened my arms and the boy almost melted into my body as he wrapped his little arms around my chest.

"They 3; told me 3; my parents 3; died in a crash 3; and burnt 3; I didn't 3; know 3; there is 3; a grave." Marcus sobbed into my shirt. Suddenly I understood what Ahmed had told me about the boy's loneliness. If he didn't knew there was a grave he didn't attend the funeral. He never had a chance to say goodbye. How much grief a little boy could carry inside without breaking, I wondered. I didn't know whether I should take him home right now or leave him here at the grave. I thought about and made my decision. Gently pushing the boy away from me I took a coin out of my pocket.

"Marcus, I want you to go to the church and buy a candle from the vending machine. Then come back to me."

The boy looked at the coin in his hand as if he never had seen any before. Without a word he turned around and shuffled to the church. As he came back he carried a candle in a red plastic tube. Again I took his hand and led him over to his parent's grave. There were no flowers on the grave; it consisted of a gravestone and a slab. Setting the candle on fire I knelt beside the trembling boy.

"Hello Mary, hello Robert. I don't know if you remember me but I have brought a little boy who wants to say hello to you. I'm sure you will remember him. It's your son Marcus. Don't be angry he didn't come sooner, it wasn't his fault. Marcus has a lot of things he wants to tell you."

"Marcus, it's here where your parents are resting. Don't be afraid, they still love you. They were waiting for long to meet you again but now you're here. Tell them what you want to tell. I'm sure it's pretty much.

Marcus looked at me, clearly puzzled.

"But they are dead, how can they here me?"

"Marcus, your Mommy and Daddy are now in heaven. Their bodies might be buried here but their souls are still alive. They can hear you even if they can't answer. Trust me."

He turned his face back to the grave.

"I leave you three alone now." I said and felt his hand tighten its grip.

"I'm not far away. I'm going to talk to my parents; there is a lot I have to tell them too. Don't worry about time. When you need me, just call."

He managed to give me a weak smile and let my hand go. Slowly he sat down on the slab and ran his hand over the letters of the gravestone. My heart hurt but I know he had to do this alone. And, to be honest, I needed some time alone too. I needed to think about the promise I had made to Ahmed without knowing how to keep it. Again I wished my parents were still here to talk with.

I lost the track of time. When I woke up from my thoughts dusk had begun to fall. Walking over to the other grave I found Marcus sleeping on the slab of his parent's grave, stains of dried tears on his face. Instinctively he had curled into a ball to protect himself from the chillness of the evening. He awoke as I stepped beside the grave. Struggling for orientation he looked up to me. No words were spoken. I held out my hand like a father would do with his son. He got up and put his little hand into mine like a son would do with his father.

Neither of us spoke on our way home. Marcus walked at my side and held my hand until the first person came in sight. He let my hand ho, waited a step and then trotted along behind me; the right place for a slave. The boy kept his head down; stepped into the road gutter when someone passed by and waited patiently outside the newsagent as I bought the evening paper. He was a perfect little slave boy.

The next days passed by without anything special. The boys functioned well and everything went as usual. I had a lot of work to do for some clients and was often out of home. Marcus slept in my bed as before, we made love to each other, but there was a certain lack of passion in his actions and I sensed something was still in his mind. I tried to talk to him but he denied any problems, so I decided, for the first time with my new boys, to use the technology every boy has around his neck.

Every word a boy spoke was automatically recorded by their collars and transmitted to the central computer system in my house. Usually it was deleted after four or five weeks if I didn't touch the files but now I opened the folder of Marcus and looked at the right files from the time in the graveyard. Making sure none of the boys could disturb me in my office I started the playback. The boy's high voice came out of the speakers.

"Mummy, Daddy, I don't know if you can understand me but Master had said you can. Daddy, I'm sorry, but I've broken my promise to be good. I'm a slave and Mike, I think you know him, is my master. He's a very good master and I like him very much. Don't worry Mummy; he is good to me and my friends. He is a bit like you, Daddy. We have to do what he says or we get punished. But he always says he loves us and I believe him."

The more he talked the more the words poured out of him. Marcus told his parents what had happened to him in the orphanage and the foster home. He spoke about their crime; the trial and how I bought them. All the time his voice was clear and steady. But then, while he talked about the camping trip, his voice broke. I could him hear sobbing and crying.

"Mummy, Daddy, I miss you so. Please come back. I'm really sorry. I was just upset by your arguing. I didn't really want you to leave me alone. Please, come back to me, I'll be good, I promise."

He pleaded some more but I didn't pay attention. Tears were running freely over my face. I felt ashamed for listening to the boy's most intimate words but also felt the pain of the boy's misfortune. I could see him, a little boy, holding his ears shut with his hands, wishing his parents would stop shouting or leave him alone. When he awoke the next morning, they were gone. Nobody knew what happened that night but their car was found at the bottom of a deep slope, both parents dead in their seats. Word spread about financial problems but that was never confirmed. The boy had no other relatives because both parents were orphans too so he was put into an orphanage. I didn't expect anyone to listen to a five year old boy's sorrow.

I wondered again what the boy had done to me. There was something special with him I couldn't resist. If any of my previous boys would have such a problem, I probably wouldn't have cared. Slaves had to function, not more. But now even what had happened more than five years ago touched my heart and soul. The next hours I was agonizing over the solution for the boy's grief. I even contacted a friend from high school who was now a psychologist, but he couldn't or maybe wouldn't help me very much with this unique situation. But finally I had a plan.

A couple of days later I was in a bad mood. Every boy knew that Marcus' backside would be sore at the end of the day, the question was only which boy would be the reason. Some of them hoped I would take my frustration out at Julian so no other boy would be harmed but that was not to happen. They were eager not to make any mistake but being overcautious made everything worse. After the evening discipline session each boy, including Jan and Marcus, knelt on the floor weeping.

In my bedroom I lectured my prefect boy how disappointed I was with the day's performance. He wasn't allowed to join me in my bed so Marcus crawled into his basket in the corner of the room. For the first time in weeks he cried himself into sleep. My foul mood had subsided and my instincts said I should comfort the boy but the situation way ideal for my plan.

I had placed a small speaker under the basket where the boy's head rested. The program was set and when the boy's vital parameters indicated that he was between two phases of deep sleep the audio file started to play. Marcus had once told me how his parents liked to call him so I used this to get the boy's unconscious attention. Two voices from far away whispered in the dark.

'Robert, can you see our little boy down there?"

'Yes Mary, but he isn't so little anymore.'

'He will always be my little boy, even when he's grown up."

'And growing up he will. He's a tough little guy, he will survive."

"Mummy, Daddy?" a sleepy voice whispered.

'Shhhh, my little shooting star. Mummy and Daddy are here.'

'We'll always love you, little sunshine.'

'We are sorry we had to leave you. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't anybody's fault.'

'Farewell Marcus, our son, we love you'

"Don't go!" the little boy cried.

'Everything will be all right, just do what your master says.'

'You know your master loves you like we do. He will always care for you.'

'We have to say goodbye now but we'll always be with you. You can't see us but our love is always there."

'Goodbye my love, goodbye."

"Goodbye Mummy, Daddy. I love you." Marcus whispered.

'We'll always love you, son.'

I could hear the boy crying heavily as the voices subsided. When I heard the boy's regular breaths I carefully removed the speaker and put small locket with a picture of his parents in his little right hand, the hand that had its thumb stuck right inside the boy's mouth. Letting my own tears flow I went to bed, wondering if I did the right thing.

Chapter 27
The Mundane

By the tension in his body I could sense he wanted to ask me something but didn't know how. To get him more relaxed I started to stroke his back slowly. It had the expected result. Eventually the boy said without lifting his head.

"Master?"

"Yes, Marcus?"

"Master, did you see or hear anything unusual last night, Master?"

"No, nothing. Why?"

"Oh." The boy gulped.

"Master, then it was just a dream, Master. Sorry for bothering you, Master."

Marcus sat up and started to ride my cock. Soon he brought me to climax, followed by a start into the daily routines. The boy never lost a word again about that night.

The next weeks I kept him busy; increasing his and the other boy's chores as well as demanding more personal service. Jan had to take over more and more of the supervising tasks. That way the punishment orders changed too. Jan was told to cut a switch and use it at the boy's hands and thighs freely. But he had to report to Marcus who would punish him for the boy's faults as well as Marcus would get it from me afterwards. The first days there was a lot of crying in the house but the boys settled in quickly.

The reason for this new strict regime was only partly to distract Marcus. Mostly it was because Christmas time was approaching fast. In the shops and streets the decoration advertised 'Happy Christmas'. But as I knew from my previous boys the time would be everything else but happy for my young slaves. I kept the newspapers from them, radio and TV were forbidden. Though they hadn't much chances to get a glance at the TV, radios were in most of my rooms and I had allowed them to hear some music while doing their chores as reward for their efforts. That was reduced to a CD every now and then.

As nice at the summer was that year, the fall was awful. It rained and stormed almost every day. The temperature had dropped dramatically and at night it was already freezing. Outdoor tasks were therefore not very popular by the boys and though they all liked Nico, walking him out in the garden three times a day for at least half an hour was really hated, by the boys and the puppy. I insisted in keeping this routine up because I didn't have much time to care for him. The end of a year brought always a lot of work for me.

All boys but Julian took turn in walking Nico. They had to lead him around so he could stretch his muscles and make sure he dumped his faeces. In summer they all had fun but now they came back all soaked wet and cold to the bones. I expected a report how my puppy behaved immediately after returning, not so much to control them but to see the boys standing there with chattering teeth; stammering their words, something I found always kind of funny. Nico then was dried and groomed; fed and stored in his cage for a nap. The boys had to return to their chores without a rest. The only concession to their health was a cup of thin but hot tea, normally the only hot food they got at all. I liked the boys but had no intention to spoil them.

Julian spent most of the time with me in my office. There was a murmur when it started to become cold outside and Julian wasn't required to go out too but my strap stopped this 'rebellion' quickly. Beside, no boy did really want to swap places with him. The worse the weather got the worse it became for Julian. At least 'worse' was what the other boys thought about it. Of course, none of them tried to intervene, not even Marcus. All they dared was to comfort Julian in the evening, not understanding why the boy often cried but never complained.

Of course I didn't torture the boy all day long. He spent a lot of time under my desk, taking care of my cock. It was convenient to have him there when I had to have a leak while making a phone call or browsing the net. It was convenient and relaxing to feel his mouth caressing my manhood; his hands massaging my feet and legs or the warmth of his skin and flesh while pressing my heels or toes to his young body. The boy was also trained to carry items like bottles, tea pots or books in a pouch that was attached to his ball stretcher. He was encouraged to walk with wide spread legs by the spiky morning star the piercing artist had given to me. It was now dangling from his large perineum ring between his legs.

When he had no tasks he took his place in a corner of my office. There was a metal plate that could be cooled or heated. Several v-shaped wedges on the surface made it painful to stand or kneel on it. Julian did not once hesitate to step on the plate, though he didn't know whether it was icy cold or hot as fire. He didn't know whether he would get an electrical shock when his soles closed one of the built in circuits or not. He knew his master wanted him to get on the plate so he did, no matter what was waiting for him. The boy knew it would be uncomfortable and painful for him but he also knew his master had told him there wouldn't be danger of permanent damage of his body. So far I had never lied to him so he trusted me completely. Of course I had no intention to abuse his trust, it didn't matter he was a slave and I was free to produce as many damage as I wanted to.

Sometimes I pointed at two other devices mounted at the wall next to his plate. One was a metal plank that could be adjusted in height or width. Usually it was set that Julian could barely touch the floor with his toe tips while riding the plank. Three chains could be attached to his collar to hold his neck in place and his body upright when his ankles were fastened to his wrists. Sitting on such a thin edge becomes rather painful the longer one sits on it. The boy had to make sure the morning star and the ball stretcher were safely out of way. The other device was a simple metal bar attached to pulley. Fastening his wrists to the bar and his ankles to rings at the floor he could be stretched to his limits.

But most of the time it was Julian who stepped on one of the devices without order. He would mount one of it not before attaching the wires of the electro shocking device to his various rings. By doing that he put himself completely at the mercy of his master. And it was his free will. The other boys couldn't understand but it was Julian who initiated most of the torture sessions, not me. The boy could simply choose to stand at attention next to me and wait for orders. But he knew I liked seeing him suffer so he wanted to please me. And he wanted to please himself because he longed for one of the mind blowing orgasms he could only get through pain. He knew I would let him come if I was pleased with his suffering.

The boy didn't realize he had jumped into a vicious circle. I knew I had to be careful with Julian. The path he had started to go would lead into self destruction if I would let him go so far. It was a dangerous balance between my sadistic streaks and the boy's well being. But he was young and what we did was not supposed to really harm him. I limited the torture sessions to three a day and made him cum only once. If he didn't come by himself the other times – too bad.

However, the boy knew the difference between games and punishment. Though he didn't complain about anything I did to him while playing he freaked out at two places. Those were his hands and his face. Of course I respected that during our games but they became my favourite places for punishment. Even in matters of discipline the boy was strange. He wouldn't frown if I announced six of the best with the cane on his bare bottom, but three strokes with the strap on each palm was a nightmare to him. Once as he screwed up royally I slapped his face. Julian cried the whole night long. Since then only the threat of being slapped made the boy crying and obeying instantly.

Apart from torture sessions and punishments the boy was still my toy. That meant he had to pleasure me without or just occasionally satisfaction of his own needs. I liked spanking him for no other reason than that. I liked embarrassing or humiliating him and of course I liked fucking him. I loved seeing him bound helplessly in front of me, without any other choice than letting me do whatever I wanted. That started usually right after the boys had slurped their chow, which was now usually postponed until the evening assembly was over. That kept the boys hungry and therefore reminded of their status during the daily punishments. But sleep did come easier with recently filled bellies.

Easy sleeping was usually not in store for Julian. Marcus had learned to tie him up in various ways, making sure he was uncomfortable and pain would rise. Though Marcus was sorry for his friend he had to admit that he got quite excited by tying Julian up. It helped that Julian got a boners too. The boy would stay in my bed and warm it for me until I was ready for the night. Julian was then connected to a motorised pulley system I had installed. I could move him in any position I wanted but most of the time he would hang face down, suspended by his arms and legs. This granted me access to his boy parts as well as his face. It depended on my mood whether I just fucked him or let him suck me of. I had learned to be careful turning him around since I was almost knocked out by the swinging weight attached to the boy's ball stretcher.

Sometimes he was included but often he could only watch my love making with Marcus. Occasionally, if Julian behaved well that day, I allowed Marcus to suck his friend off. When Marcus and I were asleep the automatic system stored the boy in a cage I had placed in my bedroom for this purpose. His wrists and ankles were released so he could relax until morning, after all there was no use to cause cramps in the boy's musculature. Julian's days were full and I was sure he didn't waste a thought about Christmas.

The plans for taking the young prince in my house were postponed until the New Year. Ahmed mentioned some security issues but his explanations were vague. Taking Hassan in wouldn't be a big problem since I had two guestrooms and Ahmed wanted the boy to board at school so he would be around only at holidays. Marcus was disappointed; he liked Hassan and had hoped to learn some of his dancing skills as well as he was attracted by the thought of serving for a real prince. Realistically, he didn't expect Hassan to be a friend. How could a slave boy become a friend to a prince?

At the early days of December snow fell from the sky. The boys were excited, they had never seen real snow in their short life, at least they didn't remember. Their parents would have been the last generation to experience a real winter; but only when they were kids themselves. The boys started to frolic around but realized soon that snow and bare skin doesn't match very well. Sunday afternoon was outdoor time, that hadn't changed even in the bad weather of the last months, and it wouldn't stop because of some snow on the ground. Dressed in warm winter clothes I watched my boys running and jumping, their usually white skin slightly pink, with clouds of steam around their faces. And they were all moving, trying to keep their bare feet away from the snow as long as possible.

It was funny sight. The boy's balls and cocks had almost disappeared in their bodies, at least as far as the chain on the younger boy's cocks allowed. This time they experienced not an uncomfortable erection but an uncomfortable shrinking. After some fast laps around the lawn my pet snuggled against my legs; panting and shivering. I couldn't help; I got aroused by the sight of his small wet and shivering body. Throwing him over the back of a garden bench, removing his tail plug and unzipping my flies were one single motion. I was inside him before his sphincter could contract.

The boy yelled, but more out of surprise than pain. It happened to fast for him to react or prepare. His skin was cool and wet. While establishing a fast rhythm I rubbed the boy's sides and back to get the blood circulating. It was a quick one. Nico was tight and his muscles worked on my shaft as if they wanted to suck it in. The boy moaned as my hot load hit the inside of his guts. When I had recovered I pulled my cock out, cleaned is crack with some snow (Nico yelled again) and sealed his boy pussy with the plug. Knowing his duty Nico started to turn around but I ordered Julian on his knees and pushed my groin into his face.

The boys stood at attention in a line, with blue lips and chattering teeth. The clearly had enough. They were tired and cold. I hosed them down in their cell and after the luxury of drying themselves with a towel, something they usually didn't have, I marched them into the living room where I had lit a fire. Their faces lit up too as they were allowed to cuddle in front of the fireplace. I thought they were grilling their feet as they stuck out their legs to the warming glow. Some of them squirmed and whimpered as the blood started its circulation painfully.

It wasn't even time for dinner but lying around the warm fire the boys passed out quickly. I was hungry but Marcus and Nico's heads rested on Timo's chest. Their faces looked so sweet and innocent so I ordered a pizza by the village's only Italian restaurant. Jan woke up as the door bell rung and jumped up. He didn't dare to look at me as he came back a few minutes later and told me the pizza was waiting in the dining room. Unconsciously he rubbed his butt, knowing that none of the boys would sleep on their backs that night. Timo had still sleepy eyes but was deathly pale as he brought a glass of wine to my table a couple of minutes later. He didn't look at me too but he needed two hands to hold the glass still.

One night as I couldn't sleep I went to the boy's cell. Marcus and Julian were sleeping in my bedroom and Nico was in his cage so there were four slaves lying on the new rubber floor I had installed lately. It was easier to clean and provided more isolation than the old stone floor. The beds were removed to get more space in the small cell so the boys slept on the floor now but the new floor was softer than the old metal beds. The cold outside had crept into the basement and into the cell. The four boys were cuddled together with Jan at the one side and Sebastian on the other. They held on each other to keep the younger ones warm. Though the boys never complained I decided that those temperatures weren't good for a healthy sleep. I got an old blanket from the storage and laid it over the sleeping boys.

While doing that I noticed two things. First it was clear that Timo had wetted the floor. That happened from time to time but I would ask Jan about it tomorrow. Second there was evidence on the floor that Sebastian had a wet dream. That was good news for the almost twelve year old boy. His balls were working despite the damage that was done. The bad news was that he would have to join Jan on the milking machine. That troubled me, because Sebastian was still suffering from his trauma. Jan did a great job with him but the boy still freaked out when he was left alone, even only for a few minutes. A difficult man to boy talk was due for the next days.

When I entered the dining room for breakfast the four boys stood lined up against the wall. The younger ones were glancing to Jan. Jan sunk to his knees, kissed my feet and pressed his forehead to the floor. Chris, Timo and Sebastian followed his example.

"What's wrong, boys?"

Jan lifted his head just enough to speak.

"Master, we want to thank you for your kindness, Master."

Jan gulped.

"We love you, Master," he added with a sob.

"Get up boys, on your feet."

"I know it's hard for you, boys. Sleeping naked on the floor is nothing new for Jan, but the rest of you was used to sleep in warm beds. But that's gone. You are slaves now. You are my property. And like I look after my other property and try to keep it in good condition I do the same with my livestock."

The boys winced as they realized what I had said.

"However boys, you all know you are more than property to me. You are slaves and you will be slaves for a very long time, longer than any of you can imagine. It's just about half a year you live with me but at your age that's an eternity. You may hate me when I punish you or order things you don't want to do. But you do it because you know you have no choice. Obedience is the most important thing you have all learned. And that's how it works. You give me what I want and I give you what you need. You may disagree with me in matters of need but be assured I know what you need. And tonight you needed a blanket and I gave it to you. Now go back to your work and all will be good."

Jan bowed deeply and started to walk away, followed by the others.

"And boys 3;"

They lifted their faces.

"I love you too."

They smiled, turned again and kissed my feet before leaving.

Chapter 28
Doubts

The boy didn't resist at all, he just sat limp in the chair and let me strap him in. But when I had finished the preparations tears ran down his cheeks. Before I could lower the helmet I met his glance. He looked at me with fear, sadness and confusion. His eyes pleaded to me. They accused me but yet they begged me to protect him. Suddenly his eyes went blank and turned away. With a stinging pain in my heart I felt it would lose the boy if I continued, maybe not completely but our relationship would never be the same again.

Sebastian wasn't ready for milking; he wasn't ready for anything. I wondered if his young soul would ever be able to recover. I wondered if his young heart would ever be without fear again, if it would ever be able to trust someone again in the way he did before the disaster struck him. I clenched my fists by the thought of the people that had damaged that little boy so badly.

I hit the emergency button on the control panel and all restraints opened immediately. Wrapping my arms around his body I pulled Sebastian out of the chair. He hung in my arms as limp as in the nights of his battle against the drugs. I hoped this time that the only reasons were the sedatives he had drunk. Rocking and swaying I carried the boy into my bedroom, waving Marcus and Jan off when we passed them. I managed to undress without letting the boy go and with him in my arms I mounted the bed.

There was no sound in the room except the breathing of a man and a boy. Sebastian lay on me, his head and body rested on my chest. I had my arms wrapped around him and was determined to hold him until he woke up. Hours passed by and I kept talking to him. I told him how much I loved him and how important he was for me even if I didn't show it very often.

I assured him he was safe with me and I would protect him. But I also told him that he was my slave and that meant he had duties to fulfil. My pleasure had to be his primary goal. I repeated my words but there was no sign he understood me. It didn't really matter to me whether he understood or not. My words were spoken not only to him. Wondering what was going on I tried to assure myself. For the first time in all the years I had slaves I questioned my role in the whole business. Finally I drifted into a fitful sleep.

Waking up I felt something wet under me. I needed some time to get orientated but when I saw the sleeping face of Sebastian next to me I knew what had happened. Luckily I caught myself before I went ballistic. I remembered why Sebastian and I were lying in my bed and I calmed down. When I looked at him I could see his contorted face and the tears that were drying on his cheeks. Surely the boy had a bad dream. Maybe that's why he lost control over his bladder.

Sebastian had rolled of me while sleeping and lay now on his side next to me, still squirming and moaning. I felt a dull ache at my chest and saw a light bruising. The boy had his hands clenched to a fist; probably he had hit me during his nightmare. A slave that hit his master could be put down without consequences but of course that was different. Sebastian wouldn't get away with this unpunished too but later. I pulled the boy back onto my chest and held him tightly. His young face was now relaxed, the dream probably over, and though Sebastian wouldn't win every beauty contest I realized again how cute he was in his very own way. I could look in his face often but would find something new each time. This time I saw a very tiny mole right on the tip of his little nose. I couldn't resist and placed a kiss right onto it.

The boy opened his eyes slowly after I had kissed them too. He looked at me with glassy eyes, squeezed the shut again. I stroked the back of his head and eventually his lids flapped and one by one they went up, even slower as before. I smiled at him and for a couple of seconds he held my glance. Then he turned his face to the right but wrapped his arms around my neck and hugged my as tight as he could. His left cheek was pressed against mine and I could feel the tears dripping down from the corners of his eyes.

"Easy boy, it was just a dream. Nobody is going to harm you." I whispered in his ear.

We stayed there for a while until his crying had ceased. He lifted his head and tried to smile at me between the last sobs. His eyes were showed still traces of fear but gratitude prevailed. His legs went down to the mattress at each side of my body. When he felt the wetness of the sheets he blushed at first but went quickly pale. He shivered as he realized he had wet his master's bed. I pulled him close before the fear could return into his eyes. He started to stammer.

"Don't worry about that, my boy. That happens to little boys who are scared. Just don't let anything scare you and it won't happen again."

I put on an evil smile.

"Meanwhile we'll just make a knot into your little pecker."

The boy had seen too much of the stuff I had done with Julian so he didn't even think about a joke. His eyes went wide and his jaw hit the floor.

"Oh, come on. Didn't I say just a couple of minutes before that nobody would do you any harm? I'm just kidding." I said laughingly.

Sebastian frowned but eventually he joined my laughter. Hearing him laughing was so rare I enjoyed every second. I tickled his flanks. He squirmed and tried to escape but I pulled him back every time he moved away. We fooled around quite a while until we were both exhausted from laughing. He lay on his back and I knelt over him, suspending my weight with my arms. None of us cared about the wet bed. The boy didn't move, he just kept looking at me.

The sight of his young body made me hard. Of course I wanted the boy but I loved him too much to simply take him. Sebastian stared at my cock and then turned his eyes back to my face. Without breaking the gaze he spread his legs and lifted his knees to his shoulders. He didn't say a word but the invitation was obvious.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" I asked him.

Sebastian nodded.

"It'll hurt. Are you still sure you can do it?"

He nodded again.

I sighed. I wasn't sure at all that he was ready for this. But if I rejected him, wouldn't that add only more damage to his abused soul? I reached to the nightstand for the jelly. But I still had my doubts. Was it right to fuck the boy right now, a boy I knew since he was born? But wasn't that exactly what I wanted to do since I had him sitting in my lap many years ago? Everybody who saw me watching him when he played with my slaves knew that that was exactly what I wanted the boy to be, my pleasure slave. But wasn't that the reason his parents didn't call me for help when the boy was taken away? Didn't they want him not to end up just where he was now; in my bed at the verge of losing his virginity?

Sebastian sensed my doubts. For the first time since he was my slave, he gave me one of this trademark gazes. It was that kind of gaze that melts the heart of every loving adult. I saw it before. He didn't it very often, only when he wanted something very badly. As he saw I still hesitated he gulped.

"Please do it. From the moment Thomas told me you were fucking him I wanted to know how it felt. I wanted you to show me. I knew you wanted it too but couldn't imagine how it could work. Then, after I woke up in your bed, Marcus and later Julian talked about sex and that it felt good. I hoped again you would bring me to your bed but it didn't happen."

Sebastian almost whispered. Suddenly he burst into tears again.

"I was afraid you didn't like me anymore because… because…"

"Shhhh." I hushed him, placing a finger on his lips.

"Silly Sebastian. Of course I like you. I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

I lowered my face and kissed him on his lips. My tongue quickly found its way into his mouth. He responded immediately. He wrapped his arms around my neck. I rolled around, taking him with me. Caressing his back with my left my right hand found his butt. He moaned as my finger touched his little rose. I teased him for a while before pushing in. He yelped as it went in but gave up his resistance quickly.

The boy had shown enormous courage I thought. I wouldn't have dared to speak to my parents or a teacher that way, let alone my master. But Sebastian was a strong headed boy, always up to challenge everything he wanted. That was probably the reason why he had survived.

I felt his little pecker pressing into my crotch. He was clearly enjoying the attention. When I felt he was enough loosened, I pushed him down. The boy understood and wrapped his lips around my cock. He had sucked me before but surely he had some lessons by the other boys. This wouldn't be a slow love making. This was going to be quick and rough. He wanted to be fucked - he would get it. Before Sebastian could react he was flipped over and laid on the bed with his knees on his shoulders. My cock was through the first muscle before he felt the fabric of the sheets. The boy screamed in surprise and pain. Two more trusts and I was completely in. I waited. He panted heavily and his face was contorted. I could feel his heart pounding. He groaned between the breaths but slowly he calmed down. The pain subsided and his breathing became normal again. But as soon as I pulled out and went back in he cried out again. I established a steady rhythm. The boy was tight, even tighter as young Marcus, and his muscles kept working. It was just a matter of seconds before I shot my load.

I stood in front of the bed, pulling the crying boy out and on his knees. His task wasn't finished yet. My cock found his mouth, pushing in and let him lick his own fluids. This was clearly not what he had expected. This was a fucking, almost a rape.

"Boy, now you know what it feels when a Master fucks his slave boy. Did you enjoy it?"

Sebastian looked up, tears running still down his cheeks.

"Master, no Master. It hurt, Master." he stammered.

"I hope you will be more careful in future. You might get what you ask for."

"Master, yes Master." Sebastian cried.

I waited a minute or two before I reached down and lifted the sobbing boy up. Looking him deep in his eyes I said.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian, but you had to learn this. I didn't enjoy it. Don't make me do that again. What you deserve is not a fucking. What you deserve is making love. I love you boy and when you are in my bed I want you to feel good. I want you to love me."

I smiled at him.

"Do you want me to make you feel good?"

It took some time before Sebastian realized what I had said. Then his face lit up, his lips formed a broad grin.

"Master, yes Master!" he shouted.