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Related article: Date: Wed, 27 Apr little sexi models 2011 16:12:21 -0700 (PDT) From: Christian Debus Subject: Changed Circumstances Chapter 22CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES' A Sequel to "A Reversal of Fortune"Chapter 22 "The Slave Pens"This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen yearsWritten by Jean-Christophe (Chris) "To see all my stories go to groups.yahoo.com/group/SlaveNow" Chapter 22: "The Slave Pens"Cato, Norge and I are left to recover from our strenuous run. Our Master dismounts from the cart and waits impatiently as an elderly slave hurries forward to greet him. The slave bows obsequiously and asks how he can assist. My Master haughtily tells the slave who he is and that he has business with his master and dispatches him to fetch Lionel Schuster. However, before the slave leaves the yard, my Master has him untether me from the cart and japanese models tgp to unfasten my wrists from behind my head.The unfastening of my arms is most welcome. They have been positioned behind my head for several hours and after my long run, my muscles are severely stressed and to ease them, I exercise my arms through a range of loosening up movements. I'm not aware that I have done anything out of the ordinary and I'm genuinely surprised at my Master's angry response to my flexing. His shouted order cowers me into instant compliance."Rafe, stop waving your arms around and stand still, damn you!"I had begun my limbering up exercises without thinking; after all it seemed perfectly natural for me to do so. And so it would be if I'd been a free man. But such spontaneity is denied a slave. The marilou model slave must stand still- and mute- and await his master's command. I'd not done this; I should have known better and I have angered my Master. As I think on this I recall how, as a master, I would have been similarly angered if one of my slaves had behaved as badly. The thought uppermost in my mind now is- will I be punished for my lapse french models young in judgement? Bitterly, I remind myself that now I must always think as a slave. After all, hasn't Norge has been telling me in the quietness of our nights together.My Master is most definitely "out-of -sorts". I don't know him well enough to understand that he's a cool weather person and that heat affects him adversely. However, his anger with me is short-lived and he gives me an instruction."Rafe, in the parcel compartment behind the seat, you'll find a parasol. FETCH IT!"I hasten to obey and as I walk to the rear japanese models tgp of the cart I catch sight of Cato. Poor Cato! He really is in a sorry state. The long run has exhausted him and he stands dejectedly with his trembling legs akimbo and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Unused to such strenuous exercise his sweaty chest heaves from the exertions forced on him as he stumbled along behind our Master's cart. Stripped of his tunic and made to run naked through the streets has cost him the swaggering air of authority that he'd always affected in girl model imageboard his dealings with the other house slaves and it has been swimsuit models replaced by a sense of rejection and hopelessness.Cato knows this place and he knows why he has been brought here. He is to be sold and his eyes show his wild despair. Suddenly, he begins to sob loudly.I retrieve the parasol - it's a new addition to the cart and it wasn't there in my time as Master -and I walk back to my Master where I stand before him and wait for further instruction."Rafe are you stupid?" Puzzled by my Master's question, I simply ask."What Master?""Why do you think I instructed you to fetch my parasol?""I don't know, Master?""THINK! Damn you! Stupid slave. Why does one use a parasol? Just think about it.""For shelter bestiality model Master," I state the obvious, "for protection, Master, against the rain and the sun.""Right," he replies sarcastically, "you're finally worked it out. Well then, open it up and hold it over my head. Your job is to protect me from the sun. Make sure you hold it above my head and always position yourself so that I'm shaded. Do you understand?""Yes Master.""One more thing Rafe. Should I become sunburnt or even if my face is just reddened, I'll hold you personally responsible and you'll be caned."I shudder at this prospect and determine that I will shield my Master from the sun at all times. I position myself just to his right and slightly behind him and I make sure his face is fully model teen list protected. When he moves - no matter how slightly -I move too.Of course, given that my Master is girl model imageboard fair-skinned with dark auburn hair, his concern is understandable; he is a most likely biker models candidate for sunburn. But this is a new role for me and I find it very demeaning. I have become an "umbrella slave".Umbrella slaves aren't all that uncommon; most ladies of quality use them. You'll see these women strolling in any street or public place and submissively walking the mandated two steps behind them is a naked, male slave whose only role in life is to hold an umbrella over his mistress' head and protect her fair complexion.These ladies regard their umbrella slaves as highly prized "pets" and they have become "status" symbols. Their mistresses vie with one another to have the very best fabiana teen model slave that money can buy and they like for nothing better than to meet in groups where their slaves are discussed and compared with one another. Usually, these gatherings are lively affairs and provoke much raucous laughter, all of it at the expense of the unfortunate, umbrella slaves.It goes without saying that these women are true connoisseurs of prime, male slave-flesh. Their preference is for a slave who is young, good looking with an impressive physique and with a well-rounded ass. Most importantly however, the slave must be well endowed with prodigious genitalia; the larger the better. The most highly prized of these umbrella slaves are the ones with the ability to show "proud" and maintain a sustained erection. Such a slave brings great credit to his mistress who becomes the instant envy of her friends and acquaintances.Consequently, umbrella slaves are widely despised and frowned upon by the wider community. The lower classes contemptuously describe them as "whore slaves" and view their use as an unnecessary affectation - no doubt this is prompted small pedo models by their jealousy of their more fortunate sisters. These slaves are seen as figures of ridicule and they are the source of many salacious stories and crude jokes. Even among the slave fraternity great stigma is attached to an umbrella slave and he is held in contempt and treated with scorn by his fellows.My Master, by having me carry his parasol, has reduced me to their level. I feel diminished by his action. I ask myself - is there no end to the humiliation he inflicts upon me? Is there to be no limit to the shame I must endure?My Master grows impatient with waiting and begins pacing backwards and forwards; I am hard pressed to keep in step with him and to provide him with the shade he demands. I am mindful of his threat to cane me should I fail to protect him from the sun and I conscientiously apply myself to my new task. But it is difficult.He stops his pacing as Lionel Schuster and the elderly slave hurry across the yard to greet him. I position myself at his side and ensure that the parasol provides him with protection from the sun.."Good morning, Mr Maratier. I'm sorry to keep you waiting in this heat. Today promises to be a "scorcher" doesn't it? I don't know what's happening to our weather these days. The winters are becoming milder and the summers getting hotter. All this talk about global warming does make you wonder, doesn't it?"It has to be said my Master doesn't like this hot weather and he is obviously distressed by the rising temperature. His brow, even in the shade of my umbrella is beaded with perspiration fabiana teen model - idiotically I remember that a Master perspires whereas a slave sweats - which he wipes off with a handkerchief. He is angry at having been kept waiting in the heat anita teen model and isn't in the mood for idle talking. He ignores litle tgp model the slaver-dealer's greeting and goes directly to the purpose of his visit."These are the two slaves I spoke of yesterday, Mr Schuster. I have a busy schedule to keep. Could we get on with valuing them please?"If Lionel Schuster had hoped that the new heir to the Barrois fortune would prove more amenable than the previous one he is to be disappointed. sweet cindy model He notes in Guy Maratier's impatient reply to his friendly greeting all the disdain that the former Lucien Barrois had shown to him. As he looks at the slave holding the umbrella over his master's head, he recognises both the former Lucien Barrois and the new slave, Rafe. He smiles inwardly; he'll really enjoy subjecting this slave to the humiliation of an intimate appraisal. He has so many slights and insults pretty asiatic models to repay. He savours the prospect; revenge is indeed sweet. Still in his own business interests, he will need to defer to Guy Maratier much as he'd done with Lucien Barrois."Certainly, Mr Maratier. It's just the two slaves and not the pony?""That's correct! It's just these two." My Master replies pointing to Cato and me.My stomach knots in fear. I now know Cato and I have been brought here to be valued and I wonder if this is a prelude to my own sale. I'd not expected this. I have only been a slave for three days and I'm unprepared for such an eventuality. Hadn't my Master said he was sending me out to the plantation to be conditioned and trained as a pony -to run alongside Norge? Has he changed his mind? Am I to be parted from Norge and made to mount the auction-block and sold to a new owner?These questions tumble around in my feverish mind and I am afraid. The uncertainty of my fate now weighs heavily on my mind. I don't want to be sold but I am powerless to prevent it.Lionel Schuster looks intently at me and smiles maliciously before telling my Master"He's a fine specimen. Yes indeed - a prime slave. I congratulate you on your good fortune in possessing him, Mr Maratier."Then turning his attention to Cato, he asks,"Is this the other slave?""Yes! He's to be valued and sold." My Master answers tersely.Poor Cato! As he hears the word "sold" he loses all composure; bikini model chanel he falls to his knees begins to plead with his master."Why Master? Why are you selling me?" He begs piteously, "Please Master, don't sell me. What have I done? Please tell me. I'll be good. PLEASE!"Cato's world has come crashing down around him and he doesn't know why. No explanation has been given to him nor will it be. For, as a slave, he isn't entitled to one. His master has decided to sell him and that's the end to the matter. He is christina model gif shocked and bewildered by the suddenly changed circumstances to the comparative ease and comfort of his life as the household steward.Once he'd been the pampered and spoiled slave of my late grandfather and because of that fact - and that alone - he's been brought undone by the almost pathological hatred of his late master's spite-filled sister. Cato isn't aware of this. He does know his new Mistress had taken an instant dislike to him - that had been obvious in the dining-room two nights ago - and in the brutal beating he'd been subjected to at her instigation. But he doesn't know the reason for little sexi models her hatred of him and he's left wondering - what has he done to deserve her displeasure? After all, until two days ago, she had never set eyes on him. Yet he knows she hates him with a passion. Hadn't he worked hard to impress his new master and mistress and to ingratiate himself into their child modelinfo good graces. His efforts had been in vain. They have rejected him, stripped him of his long-held authority as surely as they had stripped him of his tunic and still not content, they have sent him to be sold.WHY?He doesn't know why and miserably, he'll think on this as he mounts the auction-block; this thought will stay with him throughout the remaining years of his slavery and he'll never know why he was sold. It is a question that will haunt him over and over without ever providing him with an answer.I'm as appalled and as fearful as Cato. I'm to be appraised by Lionel Schuster; is this an littlemodels 10yo indication that christina model gif I am to be sold alongside Cato? I share Cato's despair.Both my Master and the dealer ignore Cato's pleading and his tears and continue with their discussion."In that case, Mr Maratier, I'll have my slave escort them both to separate pre-sale inspection rooms and we'll make a start on them.""By all means take this slave away," my Master points to the still grovelling Cato, "but Rafe stays with me. I need him to carry my umbrella. Firstly, I want to take a stroll through your pens. When I was here yesterday I saw a possible replacement for my steward. I'd like to inspect him, please.""AAH! I remember the slave you mean. His name is Pollux. He's part of a deceased estate and has already served as a house steward so he comes with some experience. He's an excellent choice. "Lionel Schuster senses my Master's genuine interest in the slave, Pollux and wishing to capitalise on it, he adds,"Such experienced slaves are rare, particularly one as young and comely as this one. They seldom come on the market. He won't be cheap."My Master ignores this; the rising heat is making him irritable and turning he delivers a stinging slap to the side of my face. As tears audit samplng models fill my eyes, french models young he bad-temperedly snaps at me,"Hold the umbrella steady, damn you! This confounded heat!" Then he turns to speak to Lionel Schuster, "Could I trouble you for a glass of water, please?""I'm sorry, Mr venus teen models Maratier, Please forgive my bad manners - I should have offered you refreshments before this. Can I offer you something stronger? A whiskey, perhaps? Or iced tea if you prefer something softer?""Iced tea will do nicely, thank you. But make it a large glass, please."The elderly slave is sent away by his master to fetch the refreshments and soon he returns carrying a tray bearing a glass flagon and an empty tumbler. As I look at the ice-frosted flagon I become aware of my own thirst; my tongue sticks to the dry roof of my mouth and I watch thirstily as my retro nude model Master quickly downs his first glass and waits as the slave refills it. His initial thirst satisfied, he now drinks slowly from his glass relishing each thirst-quenching bethann model management sip. I lick my lips and imagine the cooling balm sliding down my parched throat. What I wouldn't give for just one mouthful.Cato and I are ignored; there is to be no water for us. But our Master does ask Lionel Schuster to have one of his slaves tend to Norge; he is to be given water - sparingly - to replace the body fluids lost through his sweating and he venus teen models is to be assisted to piss if necessary.As yet there isn't any shade in the yard - the sun is still too low to cast much shadow -and poor Norge is tethered in its full glare. Sweating profusely, he must christina model phun stand and wait patiently in the cruel heat while our Master conducts his business. I'm glad that Norge is to be given water - but I do envy him - and as I look at him I appreciate the darkness of his hide. Thankfully, its deep, chestnut brown colour affords him some protection from the sun's burning rays.Cato and I are now separated. I watch as a sobbing Cato is led away to an inspection room. He disappears through a doorway and I lose sight of him. Is this the last time I'll see Cato? As he is taken in a different direction I wonder if our paths will cross again.Lionel Schuster escorts my Master across the yard to the slave-holding pens. I trail two paces behind ensuring the parasol shades my Master at all times.I am no stranger to the slave pens. After all, as a free man I had been a frequent visitor to them when I had been on the lookout for a likely slave to buy. Their squalor had never worried me and I had accepted their slave stink as an annoying but necessary inconvenience. After all you can't incarcerate large numbers of naked slaves together and not expect some smell.The slave pens have their own distinctive odour very much as a stable smells of horses or a barn of cattle. The smell of the incarcerated slaves is malodorous and cumulative; it has been added to slowly over many years by all those wretched slaves imprisoned within these walls as they wait to be sold. Those slaves may be long gone but something of their essence lingers on.To be fair to Lionel Schuster and his partner they do their best to run a "clean" establishment. They regularly change the straw bedding in the pens -selling the soiled bedding to a garden fertilising plant where it is mixed with other components and composted, then pelletised and bagged as garden fertiliser - and once a week it is "bath time" for the slaves. They are taken out of their pens in small groups and totally immersed in a plunge bath that both cleans them and keeps them free of pests. The theory behind this is sound but the reality is quite different. The turnover of slaves is high and on average, most slaves spend less than a week in the pens before they are sent to the auction block. Inevitably, some slaves never visit the bath and are only cleaned when their bodies are scrubbed clean and oiled immediately prior to inspection and sale.As a master and slave-owner I'd always believed slaves possessed very few "human" attributes when it came to matters of personal hygiene; in this they are more closely akin to their animal cousins. Shiftless and untrustworthy by nature and left to their own initiatives, I'd always believed it's doubtful if slaves would ever clean model teen list themselves. It is as well for them that their owners remain vigilant and ensure their lingerie hose models cleanliness.That had always been my belief as a master. Now apache model kit as I enter these pens as a slave, my view of them is very different.As a slave I am depressed by these pens. I now see them as places of hopeless despair and mental anguish. As a master it would have been impossible for me to empathise with the occupants of the cages lining both sides of the long, paved passage leading out into the inner courtyards. These yards are closed to the public and are where the slaves are exercised, disciplined and made ready for their pre-sale inspections and ultimate sale.The pens are under the supervision of "trusty - slaves" raised to their positions by Lionel Schuster to control and manage the slaves under their care. These trusties are callous, brutish creatures who are devoid of compassion and without any feeling for their charges and this morning there are four of them "on duty". Armed with whips, they prowl along the length of the passage-way keeping watch over the pens' unhappy occupants.I now look on the imprisoned slaves with new sympathy. They all possess an air of helpless despondency; cowered and with their spirits crushed, they are devoid of all hope. They have nothing to look forward to other than long years of subservience and unremitting slavery. Some pace aimlessly within the confines of their prison - no doubt they do so out of sheer boredom - while others stand and peer disinterestedly out through the bars into the corridor. I wonder -what are they thinking? As they look out through the bars of their prison are they dreaming of the freedom denied them or do they just wait and hope that some benevolent master will come along and choose them.Mostly, they just sit or lie listlessly on the straw covered floor and wait....As a master, I used to look into these pens seeking out a likely slave for my attention. Now I look into these same pens and I am appalled. Am I to find myself locked away in such a pen jamie teen model after Lionel Schuster has assessed me?Then I remember that Cato will very shortly join these wretches. A wave of sympathy for Cato sweeps over me. Is this to be his reward for the long years of devoted service he'd rendered to the Barrois family? He doesn't deserve this.Our entry spurs the trusties into action who gain their charges attention by noisily cracking their whips in the air. As one, the silent slaves crowd to the front of the pens and press their naked bodies close to the bars ready for inspection.It is cool within the pens and my Master doesn't need me to shade him. I am ordered to collapse the parasol and follow some four or five paces behind as he walks slowly from pen to pen pausing to look at those slaves who attract his attention.As I wait I retro nude model look around and I see I'm arousing interest; I am being scrutinised by the slaves. At first I'm puzzled by their interest and then it occurs to me that they see me as a privileged slave. I walk behind my Master and Lionel Schuster and my only role is to carry my Master's umbrella. Compared with their unhappy lot, I am indeed privileged. I see the looks of envy in their eyes. But I notice something else - the scorn and contempt they feel towards me little sexi models as an "umbrella slave".As we move down the corridor, I maxwells model see, at the far end, the figures of three young men - gentlemen judging by child modelinfo their clothes. There is baby 3d model something very familiar about them but in the gloomy interior of the pens I can't quite see what it is.My Master stops before a pen. He has found who he is looking for. With his body pressed hard against the bars is the young slave, Pollux. As I look topless model teenagers at him, I can see why he has attracted my Master's interest. As a master, I know I would have been smitten by him too.Pollux is an impressive slave and I estimate his age at somewhere around thirty. He is tall and possesses a magnificent physique; his slave-smooth, hairless body is coloured by an all-over, light golden tan and it admirably emphasises his well -defined musculature. I have to say he is childmodel toplist without doubt one of the handsomest slaves I've ever seen. His closely cropped, black hair is thick suggesting it would be naturally curly and his eyes are the greenest I've seen on either free man or slave. As my Master reaches between the bars to touch his chest and belly, he pushes his body forward and smiles beguilingly - no doubt hoping to impress -and his full red lips part to show even, white teeth.He responds to my Master's touch by moving his groin even closer to the bars until his genitals protrude in a blatant invitation to my Master to pics pree models audit samplng models fondle them. My Master accepts the invitation and slowly strokes the willing cock to a hard erection. Pollux is an accomplished "showman"; he moans appreciatively and writhes suggestively against the bars. It is obvious that my Master is quite taken by this beautiful, young slave.Pollux excites me too and embarrassingly, I find myself re-acting to the scene being played out before me. As my Master teases Pollux' piss slit, I feel the shrinking of my scrotum as my balls are drawn closer to my body and the retraction of my foreskin as my own penis thickens and hardens. I'm aware that my glans is now fully exposed and I feel that delightful small spark of pleasure as my pre cum beads at the eye of my cock.Momentarily, I'm lost in my little world of sexual pleasure and don't hear my Master laughing at me. But I do hear his comment."Steady on there, Rafe!"Shamefaced, I wilt as quickly as I was aroused and shrink as Lionel Schuster adds to my Master's laughter at me."Mr Maratier, model male young it seems your slave, Rafe has a `hair-trigger'. That's a good. It's always a good selling point with a slave."My Master orders Pollux to, "Turn around."The slave obeys willing and presents himself for inspection. He moves his legs apart, pushes his buttocks as close to the bars as possible and leans inwards into the pen. He has positioned himself beautifully for my Master and he suggestively wriggles his ass in a cheeky invitation to my Master to examine him.I can't see what is happening; my Master's body obscures my view. But I do swimsuit models see Pollux thrusting back and forth and I hear his soft moaning - my past experience of similar slave inspections suggests that Pollux is "faking" - as he rides my Master's finger. Pollux is proving to be a cunning slave. He recognises my Master interest in him and he is striving to turn this inspection to his advantage.Obviously Pollux is a clever slave - but cleverness isn't always to a slave's advantage as most owners only need for their slaves to listen attentively to an order and to give unquestioning obedience - and even I can see that this slave is trying to manipulate my Master.I think there is some danger in this for Pollux should my Master buy him. Pollux may well play on Guy Maratier's obvious sexual attraction for him but he would also need to deal with our Mistress, Charlotte Maratier and her presence in the household. Charlotte would soon see through him and recognise that Pollux is too clever for his own good. She would delight in humbling him and in such an eventuality, I foresee much pain and suffering for the over-reaching Pollux. But all this is conditional on my Master buying him. Then, even as I think of this, my Master answers my question."I'll take him. I'll buy him."Pollux, delighted by this, falls to his knees and reaching through the bars embraces my Master's legs and thanks him profusely. He is overwhelmed to be spared the indignity of the pre-sale inspections and the ignominy of the auction-block. But his delight at this could prove premature as Lionel Schuster hesitatingly replies."I don't know, Mr Maratier. The executors of the estate sent him to be sold by auction. They never said anything about selling him by private treaty. Their instructions to me were that he's to be `knocked down' to the highest bidder. I'm not really authorised to sell him to you.""Nonsense! No doubt they set a reserve on him. Am I correct?""It's true, they have put a reserve on him and quite a high one I might add but.............""Well then," my Master doesn't allow the dealer to finish his answer, "get in touch with them and negotiate a price. I want this slave and price isn't an issue. But I want to take him with me today."My Master is correct. swimsuit models Price isn't the issue; after all he now has the vast resources little teenmodel of the Barrois fortune behind him and the cost of buying Pollux is secondary to his need to own the slave. This had always been the case with the former Lucien Barrois. As Lucien, I'd never quibbled over the cost of any slaves I wanted."Well, if that's what you want, I'll put it to the executors and see if I can negotiate a price for you. You say you want to take him with you. In that case, I'll need to telephone them now. Is that your wish?""Yes please and if you're successful, there'll be a bonus for you over and above your usual commission."My Master's need for Pollux is making him generous.Lionel Schuster is greatly encouraged by this mention of the additional bonus. He excuses himself and hurries back to his office to contact Pollux' owners leaving my Master to continue with his inspection of the slave pens Slowly he wanders from cage to cage pausing to peer in through the bars at the waiting slaves. They are well trained and know they must stand at the front of their pens whenever a free person visits.As I trail behind him, I stop whenever he pauses and dutifully drop my eyes to the ground. Therefore, I'm only vaguely aware of the presence of the three, young men I'd noticed a few minutes earlier and as one speaks I recoil in horror. I recognise the voice; it is that of one of my oldest friends, Miles Fortescue. We'd been at school together and our friendship had endured over many years. Now I'm in his presence not as a lifelong friend but as a slave. What should I do? How should I re-act?"Excuse me sir! You must be Mr Guy Maratier? Am I correct in assuming this?""Indeed I am and you are?""Sorry sir, allow me to introduce myself. I am Miles Fortescue and these are my friends, Jack Stanford and Daniel Carew."As the four men shake hands, I burn with shame. I feel the hot flush of this shame sweep over my body and my body glows bright red. My intestines knot within me and I feel nauseous. I bow my head even lower and hope that they'll ignore me. For, I had been at school with all three of these young men."I'm pleased to meet you. But tell me how did you know I was Guy Maratier?""Oh! That's easy." Miles replies, "We recognised you by your slave. We recognised him as the former Lucien Barrois. All three of us went to school with him.""So you knew him well?""Yes sir! But I have to say he's not as we remember him. He's very different to the old Lucien we all knew.""Well for a start he no longer Lucien Barrois. He's now a slave and I've renamed his Rafe. So I guess that does make a difference to how you would all remember him."That's an interesting name, sir. Can I ask its origin?""Certainly, I named him after a dog I once had as a boy."So you named him after a pet. Is Rafe to be a pet?""Indeed he isn't! He's a fully functioning, working slave, aren't belfast girls model you Rafe?"Tears of shame stain my face and a silent sob chokes in my throat. I know I must answer yet I can't vocalise the words demanded of me. My Master shows his annoyance with me in his shouted command"Answer me; damn you boy! You'll answer or you'll feel the cane when we get home."Somehow I manage bethann model management to stutter out my response, "Y-y-yes-s M-m-master.""LOUDER BOY! We didn't hear you. Now tell us what you are.""Yes Master, I'm a working slave.""What did I say Rafe? How did I describe you? THINK, BOY!"Momentarily, I'm confused by his questions. brooke the model What have I forgotten? What is it that I'm supposed to think of? What should my answer have been? His threat to cane me only adds to my confusion. Then I remember and hopefully I blurt out the right answer.Master! I'm a fully functioning, working slave, Master."My answer is the right one and my Master seems pleased with it. I breathe easier for I have avoided the cane.I can't put into words how I feel. I thought nothing could be worse than the drama of my courtroom trial and the trauma of my enslavement. But I am wrong. This new humiliation in front of my former schoolmates and friends seems infinitely worse. teen latina models How I wish Norge was here standing alongside of me to make my situation more bearable.As I look at the faces of my erstwhile friends I realise Norge's friendship is far more precious to me than the transient one I'd shared with them. They are free and I am now a slave; because of that, they have rejected me and I now see them as just "fair-weather" friends. Norge on the other hand offers me pure friendship- one that is sincere and unconditional - and it more than compensates me for my loss of friendship with these unworthy, young men.Norge is a just slave but for purity of heart and for generosity of spirit he is worth a thousand of them.My Master isn't finished with me. He has more humiliation to heap on me. He takes the parasol from me little teenmodel and orders me to,"Lift up your head and display, Rafe. NOW!"What alternatives do I have other than to obey? None! So I move my feet apart, tighten my body and present myself for inspection. But surely Miles, Jack and Daniel won't subject me to such an indignity. After all we had been lifelong friends. Wouldn't they still have some affection for me and have pity for my changed circumstances. I am to be proved wrong. Horribly wrong."What brings you three here?" My Master asks. "Are you in the market for a slave?""Yes sir." Miles replies politely - for some reason I remember that Miles is always child modelinfo polite. "Daniel has a birthday coming up biker models shortly and his father is giving him a slave as a present. Danny's here to look over the current stock and Jack and I came along to help him choose.""Have you seen any that appeal?""There is one slave that appeals to me. I quite like that black-haired one over there." Danny replies as he points at Pollux."I'm sorry to disappoint you, Daniel. But I've just bought that slave. Unfortunately, you'll need to choose another.""Well then sir! What about your slave? Is Rafe for sale?""He could be, Daniel." Mischievously, my Master is playing a game with me by keeping me in a heightened state of anxiety about my future. "He's about to undergo a pre-sale valuation. Are you interested in him?""Well he's certainly the type of slave I'd like to own swimsuit models - but then who wouldn't? Somehow I think he'd be too expensive for the amount my father has in mind.""But it does pretten model flowers make for an interesting scenario doesn't it? How would you feel about owning an old school chum and lifelong friend as your slave, Daniel?""It wouldn't be any different to owning any other slave. Once Lucien was enslaved he was no longer my friend. Now he's just a slave, like any of these others in the pens and I'd treat him as I would any of them. What about you, Mr Maratier? How do you treat Rafe? After all you are related to him aren't you?""Touch‚, Daniel! But call me Guy there's no to be so child modelinfo formal. Yes, I was related to him, but as you said he's a slave so that no longer applies. And I treat him as a slave; no differently or no better than any other of my slaves. He's already been punished, haven't you Rafe?"Yes Master.""Well then turn around and show them your punishment. There's no need to be shy, Rafe. You're among `friends'. Turn around and show them your ass."I stand with my back to my Master and my former friends and I weep silently as they "finger" the site of my cane strokes. I wince at the roughness of their touch and yelp loudly as one of them - I don't know who- examines my brand. I suspect it was Miles because he exclaims to the others."Hey take a look guys, Rafe's been branded. WOW! I bet that hurt."With my back turned to them, I'm only aware of their touch but I know both Jack and Daniel also examine my slave brand; I feel their fingers tracing over the scabbing outline of the large S I now wear on my left flank. I'm unprepared for what happens next."Guy, can I ask Rafe a question? Do I have your permission to speak to him?""Certainly Miles, ask him anything you want and he'll answer truthfully won't you Rafe?""Yes Master!""Tell me, Rafe. Did it hurt when you were branded?"This question is unworthy of Miles. He's not stupid - in fact quite the opposite and he is highly intelligent - and he would obviously know the answer to baby 3d model his question. Therefore why did he ask it of me? I can only guess it was to further humiliate me. As a free man I would have ignored such inanity and treated it with the contempt it deserves. But I'm not a free man. I maxwells model am a slave and I must answer- and answer truthfully- as my Master has instructed me to do. I do answer truthfully, but my reply is sarcastic."Yes, of course it hurt!"My reply is wrong on two accounts. Firstly, my sarcasm is barely concealed and I have omitted to address Miles as "Sir". Both are unpardonable and earn my Master's angry response. Furiously, he lashes out at me and strikes a heavy slap to the side of my head. There is much force in his blow and I'm unprepared for its fury. I am knocked sideways and fall to the ground."GET UP!"I hastily scramble to my feet and stand chastened before my Master in the presence of my former friends."NOW BOY! Apologise and say it as though you mean it and show respect. Slaves address ALL free men as Sir. DO IT NOW!"My shock at my Master's anger is real and my apology to Miles is heartfelt. Through my tears I hear myself saying."I'm sorry Sir. Please forgive me Sir. I didn't mean to be disrespectful Sir and yes Sir - the brand did hurt Sir."I have used the honorific - Sir - five times. Are they enough to make amends, I wonder? Nervously, I await my Master's re-action. But as I raise my tear-stained face to look at Miles, I model teen list see his look of sympathy for my plight and perhaps even a little guilt as he realises that his silly question had provoked me and was the cause of my current distress.But ultimately the guilt is mine. I have transgressed; I have caused my Master to suffer public embarrassment in front of other free persons and I have shown disrespect to a free man. Both deeds are punishable. A slave mustn't allow himself to be goaded; he isn't allowed the luxury of answering back in a sarcastic tone of voice. My new slave awareness tells me I'd provoked my Master's anger and brooke the model his response was both natural and justified.Mile's sympathetic look suggests to me that perhaps deep down, he pretty asiatic models might still retain something of our former friendship. The thought of this breaks me up and I begin to sob uncontrollably and I'm not aware that Lionel Schuster has returned.He takes my Master aside - out of earshot of my former friends and me - and they conduct an animated conversation. After several minutes, they shake hands and both are smiling broadly.It would seem that Pollux now belongs to my Master and with his purchase satisfactorily concluded, Lionel Schuster suggests it's time to move onto the remaining two items of business -the inspections and valuations of Cato and me.By mutual agreement they decide to begin with Cato and finish with me. The slave-dealer instructs one of his trusties to escort me to an inspection room and prepare me for my inspection. He is to stay with me and watch over me as I wait.As I'm lead away, I hear my Master graciously invite my three, former friends to join him and observe as Lionel Schuster appraises both Cato and me.They accept with alacrity. To be continued ......
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