"THE AFTERMATH"
(Or What Follows Next)
Chapter 11 Part 1: "Slave 327"

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years.

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris)
Read my stories  at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories 

"The characters and ideas contained in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be used without permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any re-writes, make alterations or add pictures."

Chapter 11  Part 1: "Slave 327"

The slave lies on his back and tied to the branding table, his movements are restricted by the tight straps holding him down. Fearfully, he awaits the arrival of his new master.

He knows he is to be branded - that much is obvious. Heating up, on a table alongside him, is the cruel instrument of his impending torture; an electric branding iron. He turns his head to look at the design of the brand. He is horrified to see the outline of an erect cock and two balls - thrown almost into 3-D relief - contained within an ornamental, five centimetres diameter circle. 

He supposes this to be the sign of a Patroklos Club `pleasure slave'. Futilely, he struggles to free himself; his now smooth chest heaving from his exertions.

He knows from his previous branding that he is about to experience much pain. He vividly remembers the occasion when he received the mandatory S brand at his old Master's farm. The slave recalls that there are two types of pain associated with a branding. There's the short-lived, intense, unimaginable pain of the actual branding itself and then there's the lingering, throbbing pain as the brand heals itself. Helplessly, he accepts the inevitability of both.

He knows it is morning but doesn't know the exact time of day; anyway time is of no relevance to him. As a slave, all his actions are decided for him by his Master and his only role is to listen and obey. He is aware that he is to be branded at some time around midday, in the presence of his new Master. That much he'd overheard in a conversation between his Master and the man who operates this vile place.

Already his body is in distress. Firstly, there is the lingering itching of his body as a result of the removal of his body hair. And secondly, there is the pain in his swollen nipples to remind him of their recent piercing; both nipples, puffed up and throbbing with pain, are aggravated by the weight of the platinum rings he now wears. And he is, as yet, unaccustomed to the weight of the new platinum collar around his neck and the matching cock-ring and ball cinch fastened around his genitals.

Left lying on the table, he has time to reflect on all that has happened to him over the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday, he'd been displayed and sold; that much he remembers with clarity. After that, everything is a jumble of confused thoughts, discomfort, pain, and soul- destroying humiliation.

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Firstly, they removed his former Master's rough, iron collar from around his neck. Without his collar for the first time in the six, long years of his slavery, he felt that the freedom that is enjoyed by all free men; yet, without the collar, he also felt strangely naked. Then he'd been taken from the display room to a rudimentary ablution block to be cleaned up by the establishment's slave assistants.

Humiliatingly, he'd been flushed clean. Forced to bend at the waist he'd had a nozzle inserted into his ass and water pumped into his bowels. Then, made to squat over a latrine set into the floor, he expelled the foul mess before the nozzle was re-inserted.

This process was repeated four times before the assistants were satisfied that he was running clean. And all this was done in the assistants' presence; as they nonchalantly watched him empty himself.

Through the years of his slavery, he thought he was inured to all the indignities a master could inflict upon a slave. He was wrong; this was a new low. In his mind, his already poor perception of himself plummeted to a new depth - one he'd never envisaged. He now felt the heavy weight of utter worthlessness and bleak despair.

Next, the assistants had vigorously scrubbed him from head to toe him with a coarse, grey soap that had a strong carbolic smell. Then, hosed down, he was left to dry. Once dry, he was taken to the stripping room.

There, he was hurriedly chained, spread-eagled, into an upright frame and left to wait. Looking around he saw that he wasn't alone- there were two other slaves wriggling in identical frames. Like him, both were young and hairy - the one in the frame next to him was particularly so. Thick, black hair covered the chest, belly, back, arms and legs of this slave; its coarseness and thickness concealed his impressive musculature. How long they waited the slave didn't know. Soon, to ease the strain on his outstretched body, he too began to wriggle.

Eventually, the three, waiting slaves were joined by the proprietor and his two slave assistants. The slave knew the man's name was Samuel Norton; his assistants were nameless and were referred to simply as "slave".

Sam Norton was businesslike in his approach to the three, suspended slaves. Approaching the first slave, he barked the order to. 

"STOP WRIGGLING! And that goes for the three of you." Then, laughingly he added. "You'll soon have a reason to wriggle."

Quickly and methodically he ran his hands down over the first slave's body. Turning to his assistants he simply stated. 

"Just the medium treatment for this one."

Then, standing in front of the hairy slave, he stated. 

"You're an ugly brute aren't you? You're a real gorilla. I wonder what your owner sees in you. Let's see what you're like under all that fur." 

Then, after examining the slave's body, he instructed his assistants. 

"This one requires full strength."

Next, it was the slave's turn and for the second time that afternoon, he felt the man's hands on his body. As they moved swiftly over the slave's body, Sam Norton confirmed his earlier decision to use a weak solution on this slave. The slave's skin was tender and Sam didn't want to damage him in any way. 

Anyway, his hair was fine -in places it's little more than down -and it will remove easily, unlike the hairy slave next to him. Unfortunately, for that slave he will, most probably, require further treatment.

Sam enjoyed his examination of the slave and as his hands moved slowly over the magnificent, young body, he envied Simon's ownership of such a beautiful slave. Still Simon had kindly invited him to visit the Patroklos Club and had offered him the free use of the slave. This was an offer too good to refuse and he'd certainly avail himself of Simon's generosity. 

He determined to ensure that the slave's conversion from a rough field slave into one of the club's `pretty boys' met with Simon's approval. He instructed his assistants. 

"This one only requires a weak solution, but make it a bit stronger around the genitals and in his ass-crack."

Respectfully, the slaves replied. "Certainly, Master. Do you require them to be gagged?"

"Of course, that goes without saying. You SHOULDN"T need to ask" Sam snapped."

The chastened assistants humbly apologized with a profusion of. 

"Sorry, Master. I'm sorry Master."

Ignoring their apologies, Sam left them to continue with their work.

Working quickly, the assistants coated each of the slaves with a milk coloured, jell-like substance before thoroughly massaging it into their skins. Particular attention was paid to those areas of the body where the hair grew thickest; the armpits, beards, chests, bellies and pubes. 

As one of the assistants worked on the slave's genital area - and suggestively stroked his cock - the other was busy applying the gel to the cleft between his buttocks. Stimulated by a finger playfully tickling his hole, the slave was soon in a state of arousal and like the other two slaves his rampantly erect cock poked out at right-angles to his belly. Finally the three slaves were gagged and their job now done, the two slave assistants left the room.

Unable to talk and with restricted movement, the slave hung suspended in his frame. He felt uncomfortable from the stickiness of the glue- like substance covering his body; but there wasn't any pain. Like his fellow slaves he fidgeted to relieve the strain on his aching limbs. He wondered for how long he'd be left to hang like this.

Slowly, the late afternoon light, filtering in through a skylight, gave way to an early evening gloom. Suddenly, he became away of the hairy slave's agitation and muffled moans as he began to thrash about in frame. Soon, he was joined by the other slave.

Then, the slave noticed a tingling sensation enveloping his body. Slowly, as the room darkened into night-time blackness, the tingling turned to a burning sensation and the slave too began to moan through his gag and wriggle in a vain effort to find relief. 

Within the darkness of the room, the three moaning slaves thrashed around in their restraints futilely seeking to ease their suffering. Through his distress, the slave recalled Sam Norton's earlier comment to Simon about `an uncomfortable night but it can't be helped.' Despite his pain, he was aware that his treatment was mild in comparison to that of his two fellow slaves. He can only guess at their suffering; particularly that of the hairy slave.

Through the long hours of darkness the three slaves writhed in their common misery; their muffled moans breaking the silence of the night. Then, as the first light of dawn showed through the skylight, his suffering eased - the burning gave way to an irritating itch.

Unable to physically relieve this itch, the distressed slaves vainly sort relief through the constant movement of their bodies. Then, in the early morning light, the slave looked at his companions and saw that their bodies were bright pink under a messy mixture of gel and hair. Glancing down over his own body he saw he was also coated with the same mess as his fellow slaves.

Eventually, when the assistants returned, their gags were removed and the slaves unfastened from their frames. Once their hands were free, the three slaves immediately sought to ease the tormenting itch by vigorously scratching their bodies. As they did so, the assistants laughed heartily at their contortions to reach the inaccessible parts of their bodies. Their humour was lost on the three, suffering slaves.

Quickly, the three were hurried into the ablution block and ordered to relieve themselves before being hosed down and scrubbed clean, ready for inspection by Sam Norton. The slave luxuriated in the cool, calming effect of the cold water as it sprayed over his tormented body; he watched as his hair disappeared down the drain. He looked at the other two slaves and was amazed at the sleek appearance of their now smooth, hairless bodies. He supposed he must look the same.

Ordered to assume the display position, the three slaves were allowed to drip dry and wait for Sam Norton's arrival. Still irritated by their itching, the three slaves struggled to maintain their positions but they were encouraged to do so by the canes of the two assistants. Soon they were joined by Sam Norton.

Slowly, he walked around the three slaves before pausing in front of the slave. Then, with the expertise born of much experience, Sam moved his hands over the slave's body paying particular attention to the smoothness of the skin. He grunted his approval as his hands slid over the now hairless chest and belly before he ordered the slave to. 

"Raise your arms above your head, slave".

Obeying, the slave tried desperately to maintain his composure as Sam Norton's fingers tickled the silky smoothness of his hairless armpits; his quivering response earned him a sharp slap to the side of the face with the even sharper rebuke to.

"Stand still, fuck you!" 

Sam smiled as tears of pain and shame trickled down the chastened slave's cheeks. He was pleased at the slave's response.

For Sam, there isn't room for either sympathy or leniency in dealing with slaves; they are undeserving of any such displays of emotion from their owners. Slaves are, after all, only a commodity; they exist to serve the needs of their masters. He thinks of slaves as just another form of domesticated livestock - although, in truth, he has a higher regard for horses and dogs than he does for slaves. These latter require very little training to give unequivocal affection and loyalty to their owners.

Slaves however, possess a higher intelligence and this requires that they be more strictly controlled by their owners and handlers. Every aspect of a slave's existence must be channelled into serving his master's requirements. Above all, a slave must be totally submissive to his master; he mustn't be allowed to think for himself and he has to be subjected to the firmest discipline.

Sam sincerely believed that a master must be forever vigilant in controlling his slaves. Sam's own slaves are subject to his very definite views and, as a consequence, they routinely receive harsh treatment. Therefore, this slave's tears weren't of any consequence to Sam.

Pausing to explore the deep navel with his index finger, Sam's hands then moved down over the slave's belly to his smooth groin where all traces of the pubic hair have been permanently erased. He was delighted with the incipient hardening of the cock and its eager response to his ministrations. 

As he stroked the cock to a full erection, he rolled the balls between his fingers. He was surprised at the warm suppleness of the scrotum - it had the soft, satiny texture of the finest kid leather - and really the slave was a delight to handle. He felt the first stirrings of his own erection as he continued to play with the slave's balls. 

However, all good things come to an end, and reluctantly, he removed his hands from the slave's genitals and placed them on the inside of the slave's thighs -squeezing them to gauge their muscular hardness. Then, testing for any residual hair that needed removing, his hands travelled slowly down the inside of the legs to the feet and then back up the outside to the waist.

The slave struggled to ignore Sam's attention to his body; desperately he willed himself to remain calm so as not to anger the man. Once more, Sam grabbed hold of the cock and balls and reflected that very shortly they would be ringed.

In his imagination, he saw the slave's genitals gathered together into a tight, prominent package that placed them on permanent show for all to see and admire. He had a mental picture of the tightly cinched balls, hanging low in their sac, swinging freely between the thighs and of the semi-erect cock being forced forward into an obscene display. He was sure that Simon's clients would truly appreciate this slave. He knew he did.

Ordering the slave to lower his arms, Sam ran his hands over them, testing their smoothness before moving over the shoulders to the neck. As Sam placed a thumb on either side of the throat, he felt the hard throbbing of the arteries keeping time with the slave's rapid heartbeats. He smiled as he thought of the collar soon to be fastened around this neck. 

He'd spent time yesterday evening engraving the collar with the slave's new designation - `327'. He thought the platinum collar - highly ornate as befits a pleasure slave - would further enhance this slave's natural allure to those who will use him at the club. He eagerly anticipated his own visit to the club in response to Simon's kind invitation and the chance to see the slave at work in his new environment.

Suddenly, Sam attention was drawn to the slave's laboured breathing. He watched as the powerful chest rose and fell and the clearly defined abdominal muscles rippled with each gulping breath. Drawn to the two very erect nipples adorning the slave, Sam reached out to touch them - the slave drew back. 

At Sam's shouted order to "STAND STILL!" the frightened slave hastily complied.

Sam, grasping the nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, slowly and deliberately began to work them by alternately pinching them and stretching them out from the body; the slave winced but stoically maintained his position. Sam for his part was expertly examining each nipple with a view to its impending piercing. 

Sam did his own piercings and decided the slave would be easy to ring. The nipples were large and stood out from their surrounding areolae - it would be a simple matter to pierce them and insert the rings. It was an operation he'd performed many times in the past; he reflected that if he had a drachma for every slave's nipple he'd pierced over the years, he'd be considerably richer than he already was.

Then, he turned his attention to an area of the slave's right pectoral just above the nipple; the area where the slave is to be branded. Quickly, he accessed the thickness of the slave's skin and decided to apply the branding iron for the minimum amount of time necessary for the brand to be effective. 

The slave's flesh is young and Sam knew from experience that it will take the brand beautifully - you only needed to look at the S brand on his left flank to see that this was so.

To date, Sam was very satisfied with his examination of the slave's body and there now remained only one other area to examine; perhaps the most important part and certainly from Sam's perspective the most enjoyable. The slave was ordered to. 

"Turn, bend and spread."

As the slave shuffled into position, Sam gazed over the inverted V shape of the slave's body moving up from the widely spaced feet to the firm, rounded mounds of the buttocks. Slowly his eyes travelled up the slave's legs pausing to appreciate the hard knotted, muscles of the calves and the bow-string tightness of the corded thighs before coming to rest at the apex of the triangle. 

As Sam watched, the slave reached behind and, as instructed, parted the twin orbs of his buttocks exposing his most intimate part to Sam's scrutiny. Sam stood entranced.

The slave's testicles hung loose in his scrotum and swung freely between his thighs; Sam appreciated their more than adequate size and the way one hung slightly lower than the other. Then, even as he watched, he saw the gradual contraction of the scrotum as it tightened its grip on its precious contents and drew the balls closer into the body.

Lasciviously, Sam ran the tip of his tongue over his lips as he thought of the accompanying, but unseen, hardening of the slave's cock. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of his own throbbing erection.

Once again, the slave felt the sense of degradation and shame that he always felt when ordered into this position. He felt the sudden rush of blood to his head and a burning sensation in his face. Was he blushing from embarrassment and humiliation? Or was he flushed with an anticipatory excitement at what he knew would inevitably follow? He didn't know.

His mind was a seething cauldron of mixed emotions. On one level, he was acutely aware of the utter self-worthlessness he felt at this abuse of his body yet, at the same time, he recalled the enjoyment he felt when this man had inspected him the previous afternoon. Was he about to experience this pleasure again? Despite his feelings of self-loathing he really hoped so.

He was confused by his conflicting needs - on the one hand he wanted to be spared the humiliation of an examination and yet, on the other hand, he hoped for the sexual release he so desperately yearned for. 

As he looked back between his outstretched legs to the man standing behind him, he felt the contraction of his balls and the rapid erection of his cock. He felt the first, tiny sparks of pleasure as beads of pre-cum dribbled out of his piss-slit and threaded their
way down to the floor. 

Suddenly, he sensed movement behind him and his body quivered as Sam's hands came to rest on his ass.

Sam enjoyed the feel of the warm, hard buttocks under his hands and he particularly appreciated their hairless smoothness. Then, he moved his hands down over the knotted muscles of the slave's back to the broad shoulders. He was pleased with the feel of the slave; especially of the warm, silky texture of the skin. Unusually for Sam, he lovingly stroked the slave's back and playfully ruffled his cropped hair. The slave shuddered in response.

Sam admired the deep, golden tan of the slave's body. He was particularly fascinated at the way the deeper colour of the buttocks faded into the paler, softer tones of the protected valley dividing them; the subtlety of these colour changes perfectly complemented the deep, rosy-pink jewel gleaming at the centre of the cleft.

Sam had always wondered why people persisted in ludicrously referring to an ass-hole as a rosebud. Within the limited scope of his imagination, he couldn't see any similarity to that flower. Was it the colour? Perhaps it was someone's idea of a joke or was it simply a case of `poetic license?' 

Still, as he watched the involuntary contractions of the slave's sphincter; the striated flesh radiating out from the central opening did vaguely resemble the unfolding petals of an opening flower. Perhaps that's it?

Sam was enchanted by the daintiness of the slave's anus - its pulsations promised so much pleasure. Damn it! He really needed to fuck this slave.

Sam recalled from yesterday's inspection that the slave's ass is tight. He was eager to once more explore the warm, moist interior of the slave's rectum. But first he ran his index finger up and down the crack to determine if it was free of any residual hair; he was gratified to find no trace of either hair or stubble. Then, he used his finger to excite the slave.

The slave enjoyed the touch of the man's hands resting on top of his buttocks. He knew he should feel revulsion at their touch but instead he longed for them to further explore his eager body. As the hands moved down over his naked back to his shoulders, he shivered with an expectancy of further pleasure. And as they softly stroked his back and tousled his cropped hair, his brain began to register the countless sparks of pleasure now coursing through him; reducing him to a quivering mass of nerve-ends. He moaned softly at the exquisite agony as the finger relentlessly teased his anus. 

Bewildered, he wanted it to stop, but he wanted it to continue and, most of all, he desperately wanted to feel the man's finger enter into his body.

Confused, the slave wondered - what is happening to me? The slave didn't know the answer to his question. He only knew that in the past two days he'd been awakened to new feelings and new sensations that he'd previously been unaware of. 

He'd always enjoyed mutually agreed upon sex with his fellow slaves - especially with his friends, the two blond cousins. Suddenly, the thought of them overwhelmed him and intruded into the pleasure of the moment.

His eyes filled with tears as he thought of his friends. He wondered about them. Have they been sold? Are they still together or have they been parted and sold separately? What type of slavery have they been condemned to? 

A silent, solitary sob racked his body as he realised that, most probably, he would never see them again. The slave felt hatred for his former master and his callous decision to sell him and his two friends; this hatred even extended to the cruel treatment of the former farm steward, Toby. 

Momentarily, he knew the suppressed bitterness, hurt, rage and frustration that all slaves inherently feel but, fearful of the direst of punishments, they carefully keep hidden from their masters.

Suddenly, these thoughts were interrupted as Sam's finger was thrust deep within him causing him to gasp, audibly. Helplessly, he yielded his body to Sam's ministrations and as the finger continued to violate him, the slave surrendered himself to the intense pleasure engulfing his body.

Then, the slave's confusion returned.

Once again he asked -what is happening to me? Previously, he'd never willingly submitted to being fucked by the other slaves at the farm. Of course, there had been occasions when he'd allowed the cousins to do so; but that was different and had only been done out of his affection for them. However, he'd never really enjoyed the experience. Now, he wondered; why he hadn't?

For some inexplicable reason he found himself enjoying, what was for him, a new, unaccustomed use of his body. What did it mean? Did it mean that at some deeper level he was realising his true nature? Did this mean that he would enjoy his new life as a pleasure slave? Would his life at the Patroklos Club give him the same intense pleasure as he now felt? He really hoped so. 

Or was it just an acceptance of the reality of his new status - that of a slave whose only purpose in life is to submit to his new master's clients giving THEM the sexual pleasure denied him? 

He didn't really know the answers; yet at some level of his consciousness, he realised that the enjoyment and excitement he was experiencing at the hands of this man was a capitulation on his part.

Then, as his body shook and his legs trembled, he suddenly heard himself pleading for the release that only a master could grant.

"Master! Please master! Ohh master, pleaseee!"

Sam was contemptuous of the slave's pleading and callously disregarded his needs. He roughly withdrew his finger and with a loud, dismissive slap on the ass, Sam ordered the slave to.

"STAND! FACE THE FRONT AND DISPLAY!"

Disappointed and frustrated, the slave stood quietly as his cock quickly wilted from his unfulfilled desire.  Sam now turned his attention to the other two slaves standing alongside him.

Dealing with them in the same efficient manner, Sam quickly dismissed them - one to be placed in a holding cage to await collection by his master and the other - the hairy slave - to be returned to the stripping frame for further treatment. 

But first, Sam instructed that the three slaves were to be given food and water.

To be continued .......................

