One Step Behind You

By: Randall Austin
(© 2011 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 12

Weston banged me furiously, "Oh yeah Billy! What a hot fuck you are!" He shouted out loud moans of pleasure as he came. When he pulled out I curled up on the ground. As I lay there I realized everyone else, slaves and overseers, were all sprawled out, and exhausted, on the ground as well.

Except Eric, who ran out of the corral as he zipped up his trousers. I sat up. Everyone else remained sprawled out. Some were quietly chatting. I got up, walked out of the corral, and ran after Eric. I called out to him and told him to stop. He did. When I reached him I went and stood in front of him, put my hands on his shoulders, and was about to ask, "What in the hell were you doing?" But instead I took my right hand and slapped him in the face as hard as I could. He didn't move. I slapped him again. He didn't move. I walked over to a picnic table and sat down, put my arms on the table, my head in my arms, and wept.

I sensed there was some notice of what went on back in the corral, and after a couple of minutes I saw that everyone was coming out of the corral and walking up the pathway to where I was seated. Lang approached first and asked me what had just happened. I replied that nothing had happened. Tony then asked Eric what happened, and Lang interrupted him, "Tony, there is no reason for a free man to be interrogated in such a way. Billy will tell us what happened." They all stood looking at me waiting for me to say something. Andy said, "Well it looked to me like Billy slapped Eric, twice."

Lang asked me if I had slapped Eric, and I, afraid of pain, stumbled, "I, no, I was - ".

Lang showed all what a direct disciplinarian he was, "Well, obviously something is going on here. I'm not going to waste any more of my time fishing for answers. For that last wishy-washy answer you deserve punishment. Weston, have you got any work that needs to be done?"

Weston pointed out 16 bales of hay along the pathway, "These bales need to be returned to the corral. I was going to have my boys do it right now."

Lang held up a hand, "No need to have them do it. Billy is going to do it right now, in his knee hobbles, and in record time!"

Tony asked Lang how he intended to accomplish that. Lang pulled some strange looking devices out of his field pack and held them up for all to see, "I just purchased these today from Gideon. We're going to get a chance to see if they work. They're called 'motivators', and once I clip them on Billy's tits they are going to stay on until he finishes moving all of these hay bales back into the corral." He clipped and locked the motivators onto my tits. They hurt intensely, and I started jumping and moaning, "Get to work moving those bales, little guy! And don't try to pull the motivators off; you'll just seriously tear your flesh. We'd hate to have you lose your tits. I'm taking them off only when you have all of those bales moved into the corral!"

The 'motivators' dug deep into my tits and surrounding tissue, stinging like hornets, and I cried as I scrambled as fast as I could to carry the 16 bales of the hay into the corral. After I had carried the first bale into the corral and was hobbling back as fast as I could to pick up another one, I noticed everyone was lying around in the grass watching and smiling at me hobble-walking and crying and trying to move the bales as fast as I could.

Lang explained, "Those nipple clips should keep him scurrying about carrying those bales as fast as he possibly can. Gideon told me the idea behind them is that the slave thinks that by running as fast as he can he will be able to get away from the pain." Everyone laughed.

Perry laughed as well, and added, "Well, they seem to be working. Look at Billy going to town!"

Tony was amazed, "Fuck, look at him move! I can't believe that's our Billy!"

Weston, too, was impressed, "Shit, those babies really work. Look at our little guy scrambling to move those bales! He's kind of goofy looking in those hobbles, but I've never seen him so purposeful. I'm going to get me some of those 'motivators' for my boys!"

Lang was satisfied, "Gideon was right. They seem like they really can turn the laziest-ass ambling slave into a real workhorse. Neat implements. It feels good making a purchase, for once, that seems like it really will pay for itself in no time!"

By this time everyone was openly amused and laughing at me scurrying about with my legs spread wide. Not only RS and BB, but also Weston's slaves were laughing out loud at me.

Weston had RS remove the harnesses and hobbles from himself and all the other slaves, as everyone continued to enjoy the spectacle I presented. Eric went and sat at the bench I had been crying at along with my other friends. At first he was quiet and pensive, but gradually he started chatting with Tony and Perry and soon was smiling, laughing, chatting, and cracking jokes along with everyone else.

Tony asked Lang if he and Perry, and maybe Eric too if he was interested, could use me as their 'domestic entrant' in the college weight pulling games. Tony explained that he didn't know a lot about slave games on campus, but that the games today had seriously stoked his interest and he would be interested in getting into it if he could borrow me. What he did know was that the next campus competition extended over a two-week period in February, that most slaves in the games were not student owned, but were either student's family slaves, or were borrowed or rented.

Lang expressed reservation but Tony seemed somewhat knowledgeable; "One of my roommates is slave gamer. Nine of the 14 days are spent in training, and the games span a period of five days. When the slaves are not in training they are kept caged at all times, and are under the direct supervision of the campus police, who, believe me, keep all campus slaves on a very short leash! I commonly hear it said that slaves who game tend to be more focused and obedient. In slave psychology class we learned that it was beneficial, overall, for slaves to be gamed, since it added to their self-esteem. And you can be sure that the two weeks spent in constant workout and gaming will help keep Billy trim and taut. It'll help him get rid of any winter flab he accumulates. And best of all, Lang, if you come to the games you can be sure that Perry and I will treat you like a king. You'll have a super time those five days on campus. And, of course, your name will be listed as Billy's owner in all programs, articles, and notices."

Lang beamed, "Ooooh, I like that!"

Tony proceeded a little hesitantly, "For the games themselves Billy would have to have his clamp removed, since campus slaves are always gamed totally naked. It's kind of the culture of college games. And gamers win the respect of chicks, as you can well imagine. You know how babes are; they get off on seeing a guy making his slave perform to the utmost. All those straining muscles really impress the chicks. Turns them on, makes them think the gamers are heroes the way they are able to make slaves no bigger than themselves pull those humongous weights by just wielding the whip in a skillful way. But naked, they gotta be naked. The campus police will make sure the clamp is put right back on after each round."

Lang agreed, "I don't have any problem with Billy being gamed naked. The entire idea sounds wonderful, and I look forward to my time with all of you in February. And I also think you are right; it will be good for Billy. He'll have fun!"

At one point as everyone watched me moving bales Eric rubbed his cheek. I heard Tony ask, "Come on Eric, tell me what happened between you and Billy. It'll be between just you and me." I wanted to hang around and listen, but the pain in my breast was severe, so I kept scrambling to get all the bales moved.

When I finally finished moving the last of the bales I hobbled over to Lang and he removed the tit clips. My eyes were red from crying, and I started to massage my breasts. Lang just watched me in silence. When the pain was somewhat soothed, and I put my arms to my sides, Lang shook his head at me; "Billy, Eric just told Tony what happened, and Tony told me."

Lang asked Weston where he could 'string me up' for a whipping, and Weston pointed out a set of bars right off the pathway that looked almost like a children's playground swing set. Lang led me by my shoulder over to the whipping frame and Weston removed my harness and knee hobbles, and then secured me to the frame with my arms cuffed wide apart above my head, and my legs cuffed and similarly stretched as wide as they could with me still able to support myself with my legs.

When Weston had me strung up Lang came up to me and hugged me, and said, "Billy. I have no choice but do what I'm about to do. Pennsylvania law mandates that an assault on a free citizen demands a level two punishment. Why did you do it Billy? Why did you go and slap your best friend repeatedly on the face? Look Billy, you simply have to get to the state of mind, the level of acceptance, where you are not affected by whatever free men say or do. And you certainly can't react in anger to anything they do!"

Weston came up to me, hugged me tight, and spoke quietly into my ear, "Billy. Damn! I hate to see this. I love you so! I know what you're going through. But let me tell you something. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this. You're a smart guy so I thought you would have picked up on this without having to be told. But what do you care any longer what Perry, Tony, or Eric thinks of you? Do you think these three guys think of you as their friend? Slaves don't have friends. They don't; they have gawkers. Do you think these three guys really care about you? They only came out to visit you at Lang's in order to gawk, to see if you were 'adjusting', how you've accepted your lot, gather fodder for bar conversations with their buddies. And seeing you doubtless makes them feel good about themselves. Helps them to better appreciate their free status. You can be sure that when they were driving over here they were joking about your situation, your tattoos and penis ring, wondering if you've accepted your lot, wondering how many spankings you have to get every week. Making jokes about how you once were a hot shot A-student, and now you're just a cocksucking slave. They don't care about you anymore, they know you can't do stuff together anymore. Billy, they're just here to gawk. I know it, Lang knows it, and they know it. I think you know it too. So why in the hell would you react in such a way to them as to get yourself strung up here on the whipping frame? And let me tell you this also; the fact that you slapped Eric just made their day."

When Weston finished speaking, he continued to hold me quietly. The man I had once loved, and then came to despise, I was now starting to love again. I needed someone to love so desperately.

When Weston broke his embrace and walked over to help Lang select his punishment implements, Perry and Tony came over to me. Perhaps thinking it was some sort of pre-whipping protocol Tony hugged me, "I love you, man! Fuck! This sucks. Just know I'm here for you, dude!"

Perry hugged me next, "I love you Billy. Sorry about this. Wish I could stop it!" I didn't say anything. I was numb with despair and fear. I was either afraid or unsure of all the people I knew who were gathering around me to watch me get a whipping. I was afraid of the other slaves. I was afraid of being alive.

Lang, armed with several implements, came and stood in back of me, as everyone took positions in front of me so they could see my face as I got punished. Before Lang laid the first crack of the paddle across my ass RS was already broadly smiling in anticipation and slightly fluffing his cock. By the time Lang had delivered three strokes of the paddle, and was changing to a tawse, all the spectators were watching wide eyed, mouth-opened, and tenting in their jeans. Weston and Tony brushed their hands across their crotches.

I have learned during my years of enslavement that when free men are around slaves, their natural lubricity is heightened. And especially during punishment time a free male's preponderance towards lechery comes to the fore. Guys, who among peers would never touch their crotches or intimate that they so much as masturbated, feel free to do anything they want when around slaves. The feeling that free men can do anything around slaves and get away with it is what has most frequently made my life as a slave hell.

Lang came closer to me to work the tawse over my back. He covered my entire back, and I yipped, squealed, and yelped as he swatted away at my back. By the end of the tawsing portion of my punishment all of the spectators had their dicks out and were slowly tugging away. Andy's three slaves couldn't get at their cocks, but they too were gawking wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Lang next took up the flip whip, and when he landed the first blow across the backs of my upper legs I bucked so much I thought I had loosened the whipping frame from its foundation. Perry was thrilled, "Wow Lang, you really know how to whip a slave's ass!" Andy was jacking furiously, "Man, I love seeing a slave getting an ass taming!" Lang nodded and his second crack had his whip curling around my upper thigh and stinging me in my ass crack. I did a hysterical scream. Weston was curious, "How in the hell did you do that Lang? I never heard Billy yelp like that before."

"It's a special stroke I use on whining slaves. I really like to let whiner boy slaves like Billy get it real good in the ass crack. It feels good!"

Weston came and stood right in front of me, and with his left hand he squeezed my right nipple as he jacked with his right hand. Tony moved right in front of me and followed suit. He grabbed my left nipple with his left hand and increased the tempo of his stroking. Both of their mouths were wide open, they were breathing fast and heavy, sweat was on their brows, and they stared intently into my teary eyes with their open mouths broken into lust smiles, trying to drink up the anguish they saw to fuel their lust.

Eric was standing furthest away from me, in back of the others, but he was the first to cum. He kept watching and stroking as his remaining sperm dribbled out.

Lang next lashed me with two successive blows to my upper legs, each of which allowed the whip to snarl and strike me in the front legs. I was crying hysterically, and screamed for Lang to stop. He did not but continued slicing the whip across my back. Then suddenly, in the desperate throes of pain I decided that I really was a worthless-ass, disobedient, slave, and shouted, "I'm sorry Lang, I'm sorry Eric, I'm sorry everyone. I have been a shit. I'm a lousy slave, please stop! Forgive me! I want to be all you want me to be! Help me!"

At that Weston and Tony both shot giant wads which hit me on my chastity pants. And that was followed shortly after by moans of pleasure from Andy, Perry, BB, and RS. Lang, seeing that everyone had done their business, laid on one more powerful stroke of the whip to my ass, then stopped the punishment. There was only silence and heavy breathing as Lang gathered the punishment tools and hung them back on the punishment frame. I was bawling loudly. Weston, with his dick still hanging out of his trousers came up to me and released me from the frame.

I was about to slump to the ground, but Weston embraced me tightly. Having just had sexual release, he spoke to me in that low moaning voice one uses after having sex, "Sweet Billy, that compliance you just displayed right now is what Lang and I want to see in you. Continue in that mode and you'll be on easy street. Oh Billy, I'm so happy for you, because if you mean what you just shouted out right now, about wanting to be all that we want you to be, then you've got it made. That's all we ask! And that means whippings like this will probably be a rare, rare, thing."

Weston's words were a soothing balm to me, and I started to cry anew, not from pain, but from the comfort I was feeling in Weston's embrace, and his words that promised easier days ahead if I remained in my compliant mode. I was ready to accept Lang and Weston at their word. Weston then took his right arm from his embrace and shook his flaccid penis. As he did so he looked at me, inviting me to look at it. I did. He smiled, stuffed his cock back in his trousers, zipped up, and kissed me on the cheek.

All six of us slaves were ordered to get dressed as the free men started bidding their farewells to each other. I was somewhat sullen and off by myself as I dressed, and was surprised when RS came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, "Take care Billy! It was nice meeting you." I thanked him, and he continued. "I used to be like you, Billy. I was in graduate school when I was enslaved. My first years were hell. But the moment I accepted my lot, just went with the flow, accepted my new carefree, even if heavily controlled lifestyle, I started to actually be happier at times than I ever was before." I shook hands with him and we parted.

My three friends insisted on coming up to me and saying "goodbye", as if all was well with the world. And when Tony said he looked forward to gaming me in February, a momentary flash of anger from the depths of my being was stifled when I thought of the whip on my back, and the wisdom of the whip overruled, and I found it, amazingly, easy to say to him, and with a smile, "Oh, I do too! I hope I can do you proud!" When Tony heard me say that he was genuinely pleased and hugged me long and hard. Perry embraced me next, "I don't care how you do. Just having you around will be great!"

Eric came up to me next and put out his hand, and again my momentary flash of seething anger gave way to my new found slave humor, "Thank you sir", I said as I grasped his hand, then embraced him. I needed to embrace him, to feel him. My desire to ask him if he enjoyed getting his rocks off just now while he watched another human being get tortured gave way to my new slave caution, which told me I no longer needed to ask the question. But the question, nonetheless, hung in the silence between us as sure as the afternoon sun. After a moment Eric began to whisper in my ear, "Billy. Billy. I just want you to know - I really - ". He never finished his statement. We broke our embrace and he walked away.

Lang came up to me, smiling broadly, put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked to his car. As I opened the door of his car for him to get into the driver's seat he tousled my hair and said proudly, "Little guy! You are something! I think my little slave has finally found his stride." He pinched my cheek, "Get in the car you little scamp!" He was treating me, as usual, like a 10-year-old kid, but this time it was feeling good to me. As we drove off I don't know what got into me, but I started crying, "Lang, I never ever want to upset you again. I just want to serve you like an A-1 slave." Lang reached over and pinched my ear, then grabbed my arm and put it to his crotch, "Give me a little gentle kneading action through my trousers." I started rubbing his unit through his slacks and he hardened instantly, "Atta girl! Oooh, that feels good! Oh man, I can hardly wait until we get home and those pretty little lips of yours go down on me." He moaned as I kneaded, and asked, "Do you like sucking your owner off? Does it make you proud that you can make me feel so good with your cocksucking?"

I nodded 'yes', and leaned back in the seat, playing with my owner's trousered package as he drove us home. How lucky I was to have such a tall handsome, Nordic blond for an owner. In my fantasies as a free boy I used to dream of having such a man as my stern daddy. If I could fully let go of my pride and face reality, I would find that my new reality was, in fact, the very stuff of my adolescent dreams.

To be continued...

Posted: 10/21/11