When the Master comes to me that evening, I’m not surprised to see Stephen with him. It’s Stephen who carries my food bowl and crouches over it to moisten the gritty meal with his piss so I can eat it. The Master sighs and watches, saying nothing until I finish. When I thank him, still on my knees, he tells me to stand up and slowly turn around. I do so, barely suppressing a groan — I ache everywhere! The Master checks the bruises left by Stephen’s beating.
“Down, slave,” he says at last. “You may speak freely. Stephen did this to you?”
“Did you want him to?”
“No, Master. It was all his idea, Sir.”
“But you enjoyed it?”
“No, Master, not exactly. But he enjoyed it, and that made it okay.”
“I see. Do you feel that he went too far, exceeded your limits?”
“No, Master . . . .”
“Go on, slave.”
“Thank you, Master. It was the worst beating anyone’s ever given me, Sir. But as you can see, Sir, I survived in one piece.”
“I see. What did Stephen say to you, exactly, about why he did this?”
“Master, he said that you told him that he’d be freed if he mastered me.”
“And do you feel that he has? A beating alone is not Mastery.”
Now my eyes move over to Stephen standing beside the Master’s chair. His bare arms are crossed behind his back, his booted legs spread, his cock half erect, to all appearances a perfect slave. He raises his bowed head just enough to hold my eyes and pull them down to his boots. I know exactly what he wants from me, needs from me. His fate is now in my hands. I could say one word, “No,” and he’d remain a slave, and probably be barred from my cell so I would have nothing to fear from him. He’d be just another slave boy who got above himself and was slapped down again.
No way can I do that to him. I might not be totally sure yet that he’s the right Master for me, but what do I have to lose by trying? A few more months of solitude in my cell? I’m suddenly eager to move on and try real slavery again.
A second or two was enough for these thoughts. The Master sees only the barest hesitation as I shuffle on my knees toward his slave boy and bend my head to kiss his boots. As soon as I do so, Stephen reaches down and hooks a finger through one of the rings on my collar, pulling me upright between his legs. I kiss his cock, too, now proudly erect.
“Let it be so,” the Master says, and I swear he sounds pleased. “Stephen, come here.”
Quickly, my new Master releases my collar and steps around me to stand in front of his Master.
“Kneel, boy, for the last time.” The Master pulls out his key ring and unlocks Stephen’s collar chain, then rises from his chair and they embrace, hugging each other with every evidence of considerable affection. I see all this over my shoulder, as I don’t dare move without permission.
The Master kisses Stephen and holds him at arm’s length, looking him up and down as if for the first time before speaking again.
“You’ve grown so much in the past year. I never intended this outcome when I agreed to this slave’s proposal. I’m going to miss your smooth running of this house and all your help in my business. But it feels right. I think it’s what you both need.
“This slave’s greater age and experience will help you mature and develop into a fine Master, as long as you never lose his respect. You may not stay together long, or you might be a match for the ages — there’s no telling yet. But right now I think you’ll do very well together.”
“Sir,” Stephen replies, still giving the Master the respect he deserves, “unless you wish us to leave immediately, I’d be happy to continue here for another month or so, while I make other arrangements. My slave can do my chores, under my direction, and I can help you find and train a new assistant for the business.”
“Stay as long as you like,” the Master says. “But won’t you find your room too cramped now?”
“It’ll be good for the slave to get used to it, Sir,” my new Master says, grinning as he steps over to me and turns me around with a touch on my shoulder. “You’ve been too easy on him, Sir, letting him have all this space to himself. At least he won’t need any of my closet — I’m going to be filling it with my new clothes.”
“Very good. Take this key and unlock his leg chain from the wall. Do you want to take off his collar and cuffs, too?”
“Thank you, Sir, but I’d like to keep them on, with your leave, for as long as we stay in your house. I’ll give him a new collar when we move to my own home. Meanwhile, your chains suit him well, I think. Don’t they, fuckface?”
So ingrained was the rule against speaking to anyone but the Master that I hesitate to reply.
“You can answer me, slave,” Stephen says. “I am your Master now.”
“Sir, yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!” I say in a rush, and bend to kiss his boots again.
“Silly slave boy!” he says, grinning down at me. “It’s going to be fun training you all over again.”
He squats down to disconnect me from the wall chain, then pulls me to my feet and into his arms. I wince as he hugs me, because of my bruises, but there’s nowhere else I want to be.
“Looks like our experiment is finished,” the Master says, “but given such a wild card as Stephen here proved to be, I’d have to call the results inconclusive. What do you think, slave?”
Glancing at my new Master for permission, I answer firmly,
“Sir, it was a wonderful experience, and I am deeply grateful to you for it, but it’s time I faced my responsibilities. Sir, I’m ready to be a slave in the real world again, Sir.”
“Good boy!” the Master says.
“Woof!” Stephen says, and kisses me hard. “C’mon, dickface,” he says at last, grinning widely, “and I’ll show you where the real slaves around here live.”
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