Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES A Sequel to "A Reversal of Fortune" Chapter 18:
"Return to the Stables"

   This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age
of eighteen years Read my stories at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

   Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris) "The characters and ideas contained
in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be used without his
permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any
rewrites, make alterations or add pictures.""

   Chapter 18: "Return to the Stables"

   It has been a momentous day for me.  Today was my first full day of
slavery and as I lie cradled in Norge's strong arms I think back over it.

   I have been exposed to the full horrors of my new life.  No longer free,
I must now conform to my Master's wishes or suffer the consequences.  My
body still smarts from last evening's caning and from Marv's cruel whipping
of me as I laboured at the wood-pile.

   My body still aches from the unaccustomed, hard, physical labour and my
free man's pride -some of which I still retain - has been sorely tested by
my recent humiliation in the dining-room at the hands of my Mistress,
Charlotte Maratier.  I'm overwhelmed by the intensity of her hatred of me.

   In my naivety, I'd never supposed that one person could entertain such
malevolence towards another.  But then, I recall that her vehemence isn't
just directed at me - Cato also shares in it.  He too has been brought
undone by her hatred of my late grandfather.  Poor Cato!

   Even in my own self-pitying state, I can spare a thought for him and for
what has happened.  As I snuggle up closer to Norge - moulding the front of
my body into the contours of his back - I think of Cato lying alone in his
cubicle adjoining the household slaves' sleeping quarters.  Tonight,
there'll be no young slave sleeping in his bed; no warm, firm body for him
to use and no one to comfort him.  At least I have Norge.

   As Cato lies alone in his cot I wonder - is he weeping?  Can he overhear
the sniggering jubilation of the house slaves as they discuss his fall from
grace?  His humiliation at the hands of our new Mistress has been almost as
spectacular as my own.  And like me he is to suffer yet more humiliation
and pain.

   Stripped naked like the rest of the household slaves, he must now endure
the permanent humiliation of this.  Tomorrow, he is to discipline Marv for
his overuse of the whip on me and immediately after he too is to be caned.

   Cato has never been caned; of that I'm sure.  My grandfather had never
punished him and neither had I.  Cato had never given us reason to do so.
He'd always served us well and we'd both relied on him for the smooth
running of our household.

   Certainly he'd ruled the house slaves with a rod - or should that be a
cane - of iron.  I knew he was hard on the slaves but that had never overly
concerned me; after all he was charged with keeping peace and harmony in my
household.  And I'd always been of the opinion that slaves should be
subject to firm discipline.  So like my grandfather before me I could find
no fault in Cato's service to me.

   Now for the first time Cato is to be caned.  I try to visualise his
shame at being strapped down on the caning bench with his naked body
stretched out and his bare ass elevated and exposed to the cane.  For Cato
this will be mortifying.  But then it was no less so for me last evening
when I had been so publicly caned.  Then Cato had applied his cane with
relish and vigour and he'd not held back in caning me - his former master.
So I'm not too concerned that he is to suffer as I had suffered - indeed a
part of me relishes the prospect of watching as he feels the cane bite into
his buttocks.

   Last evening, my own ass felt the excruciating pain he'll feel tomorrow
and I know that no matter how stoically he approaches his chastisement his
resolve will quickly crumble.  By the second or third stroke he'll be
crying out in his agony - much as I had done.

   For me there is satisfaction in that he's to receive the same number of
strokes - twenty - that I had received.  Then I remember I had also
received extra strokes to the backs of my legs for my bad behaviour.  Part
of me hopes that Cato will play up and earn additional strokes of the cane.
There would be a sense of "serve him right" in that for me.

   Of course, Cato's ordeal will be painful and like me he'll have no other
option but to endure it.  Our Master has ordered his punishment and there
can be no going back.  But will Cato beg our Master for mercy as I had done
last night?

   Even as I begged, I knew none would be shown to me but a slave's fear of
the cane is overwhelming and he has nothing to lose and perhaps something
to gain by pleading for mercy.  And there are many Masters who expect their
slaves to beg for leniency that won't be shown to them.

   And for Cato there is the exquisite irony in that he must first cane
Marv before he is punished.  I wonder what his thoughts will be as he
applies the cane to Marv's ass.  In the dining-room, our Master and
Mistress had taunted Cato with this as they ate their meals.  Ignoring Cato
- indeed all the slaves were ignored - they'd discussed Cato's punishment
in great detail.

   It was evident to me that the Mistress relished her power over Cato. 
She'd pointed out to our Master that he must be on his guard against Cato
tomorrow as he canes Marv in case he holds back in his use of the cane. 
Our Master responded that he'll watch Cato very closely and if he feels
that he is holding back then Cato will receive an additional stroke for
each unsatisfactory stroke he'd given to Marv.

   Both our Master and Mistress found amusement in this and laughed at
Cato's obvious discomfiture.  As I looked at Cato, I thought I saw his
powerful frame tremble slightly.

   Over their dinner, our Master and his grandmother continued to show
callous disregard for Cato's feelings.  Not content with discussing
tomorrow's punishment, they then had a long discourse on the most
appropriate time to sell him.

   Charlotte was in favour of a quick sale offering the opinion that it
would be better for our Master to be free of Cato at the earliest
opportunity.

   As usual our Master deferred to his grandmother and promised he'd look
in at the slave-dealers, Schuster and Hanson's, tomorrow and arrange to
have Cato sold.  Our Master did however, state he considered Cato to be a
very valuable slave and that he wouldn't be sold at a bargain basement
price.

   I was to share in Cato's distress.  Once they'd finished talking about
Cato they turned their attention to me and discussed my upcoming branding
and circumcision.  I had to stand in silence as I was spoken of as some
dumb, uncomprehending, domestic animal.

   Of course, I'd been guilty of similar behaviour as a Master; it had
never entered my thinking that this dismissal of a slave could be so
hurtful to him.  But then what Master -or Mistress - would ever consider a
slave's feelings.  In my experience it would be a very rare slave-owner who
did so.

   Standing in their presence, I was very conscious of my nakedness and at
the effect all this talk of skinning was having on my cock.  I could feel
the involuntary shrivelling of my balls as they sought refuge closer to my
body and my cock shrank to a miniscule apology of its customary
impressiveness.  All this talk about punishing Cato and of my own skinning
and branding had an unsettling affect upon all five of us serving our
Master and Mistress and I was glad when Guy suddenly changed the subject.

   "Grandmama!  How much time would you require to organise a small
function?"

   "What type of function do you have in mind, Guy?  And how small?"

   "Oh!  Nothing too elaborate.  I'm thinking of a simple getting to know
the neighbours type of affair.  You know - nibbles and drinks.  It's just
that all our neighbours - or at least the menfolk - turned out in force to
welcome me into the neighbourhood when I arrived here from the courts
yesterday.  I thought that was very gracious of them and I would like to
repay their kindness by inviting them and their wives over to formally meet
us."

   "And when do you envisage doing that?" Charlotte asks tartly.  "I'm not
sure you should involve yourself too much with your neighbours, Guy.  After
all you DO now have a position to maintain and I shouldn't think you'll be
mixing with them socially."

   "You are most probably right about my not mixing socially with them
grandmama, but in the interests of maintaining good relations, I would
like, at the very least, to be on a nodding acquaintance with them. 
Anyway, they have a perfectly natural curiosity about Rafe and I think it
will be good for them to see their former neighbour in his new role."

   "Yes I take your point, Guy.  It will be good for Rafe too to be
introduced to them as a slave.  What role is he to play at your little
soiree?"

   "I thought we could use him to serve as one of the waiters.  That way
they would see him in action.  What do you think?"

   "What an excellent suggestion." Charlotte has warmed to this idea of
further humiliating me in front of my former neighbours, "When do you me to
organise it for you?"

   "What about the night after next?"

   "That soon?  Its short notice but no - I can organise something for you.
It won't be too elaborate but then it doesn't need to be - after all it's
only for the neighbours.  Yes, I can do that.  But won't you have a problem
with Rafe?  I thought the slave is to be branded and circumcised that day?
If so, I would think he'd be unavailable to serve."

   "Oh!  Don't worry about that, I'll simply delay his procedures until
after our little get-together.  Thank you, grandmama."

   I heave a sigh of relief.  I have a reprieve from my branding and
skinning.  True, it's only a brief reprieve but any reprieve is a welcome
one.

   "I'll get onto first thing tomorrow morning, Guy." My Mistress adds with
new enthusiasm, "I'll have Cato deliver invitations to all the neighbours
personally and instruct him on what needs to be done in the way of
preparation.  You know Guy; I'm quite warming to your idea.  It's been
quite some time since I've organised something on this scale.  I quite like
the idea of playing hostess."

   I spare a thought for poor Cato, who tomorrow must deliver the
invitations by hand in his newly acquired state of nakedness.  It would
seem that our Master and Mistress will use every opportunity to further
humiliate and demean both of us.

   Thankfully for me, my introduction to serving in the dining-room went
without mishap.  True, I held back as much as I could and allowed my fellow
slaves to carry the burden of responsibility, but even this went without
notice and I was greatly relieved when finally our Master and his
grandmother rose from the table and left the room.

   However, our work wasn't over.  We had to clear the table and make the
room ready for breakfast.  Then it was down to the scullery-adjoining the
kitchen-where we spent the next hour washing up after the meal.

   It has been a long, hard day for me, first on the woodheap and then in
the dining-room.  My body aches from the unaccustomed labour, I am very
tired and my nerves are fraught.  I am ready for rest and sleep and I
gladly accompany Cato to the stables where he places me in my night chains
and locks me into the stall I now share with Norge.

   My first full day of slavery is finally over.



   <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

   It's so comforting to lie next to Norge and to feel the warm hardness of
his body in such close contact with my own; I am desperately in need of his
strength and support but tonight he has given me a new contentment.  I feel
the steady rise and fall of his powerful chest as he gently inhales and
exhales and I tighten my arms around him in an effort to draw him closer
into me.

   He is in a deep sleep and I'm not surprised; from what I'd overheard our
Master tell his grandmother, Norge had a hard day.  Placed in harness at
first light this morning, he'd been driven solidly all day by our Master
and even his great strength and endurance would have been sorely tested by
the demands made upon him.

   I am overwhelmingly grateful to Norge for his generous support of me and
I remind myself that I am undeserving of it.  Yet I am thankful for it.

   When Cato unlocked the door to the stall and instructed me to enter I
did so and stood looking down on Norge's sleeping figure unsure of what to
do next.  I wanted to lie down beside him but my guilt prevented me from
doing so.  Norge had welcomed me into his stall last night and had
sustained me through that awful, first night of my slavery.  He doesn't
know the depth of my gratitude to him for this gesture of kindness to me;
one day, when I have the confidence to do so, I will tell him.

   Perhaps it was the sound of Cato's key in the lock that disturbed him.
He stirred and stretched into wakefulness and seeing me standing there, he
smiled and patted the straw alongside of him.  It was an invitation to
"come lie by me" and one I eagerly accepted.  As I settled myself by his
side, a subdued Cato ordered us to settle down and rest telling us we both
had a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.

   I saw the look of surprise and askance in Norge's eyes as he saw Cato's
new nakedness for the first time.  I had much to tell Norge.

   Now alone in the gloom of our stall - how quickly I have come to regard
it as our stall - Norge embraces me and sensing my distress he gently
strokes my face.  By that simple gesture he releases the floodgates of my
emotions and through my tears, I hear myself blurting out all my fears; my
terror of the branding iron and of the skinning knife - but most of all the
shame and humiliation I now feel as a slave.  I tell him of our Master's
plan to invite the neighbours to a "soiree" where I am to serve naked as a
waiter.

   He listens patiently and waits for my tears to dry up and my words to
cease.  Then drawing me even tighter into him - if that is possible - he
tells me in a firm tone of voice that I must accept the inevitability of my
changed circumstances and begin to think as a slave.  He tells me there is
no other alternative open to me and as I listen, I grow calmer and
recognise the wisdom of what he is saying.

   He tells me of the hardships that confront me and of the many
adjustments I must now make in my transition from free man to slave.  He
speaks from his own experiences and wisely he doesn't minimise the
situation.  He tells me the immediate future will be very difficult for me
but like all new slaves I too will come to a reluctant but full acceptance
of my new station in life.  He warns me that I must not fight against this
or cause my Master any concerns.

   He further warns me any such contest will be uneven and unwinnable -
that the Master ALWAYS wins over a slave.  Obviously, he speaks from his
own experiences with me as his Master and his words both sting and wound
me. But as a former Master, I know he speaks the truth and as a slave I
recognise the wisdom of his words.

   Nevertheless, I continue with my self-pity and I tell Norge of my
absolute fear of being sent into the fields at La Forêt to work as a field
slave, of my terror of the overseers' whips and of the rigours I must
undergo in my pony-training.  He listens and sighs deeply - almost out of
exasperation with me - and if I was expecting sympathy from him then I'm to
be disappointed.  He tells me brusquely,

   "You'll survive," and he adds with a touch of bitterness, "I did."

   The irony of his words cuts through my pre-occupation with my own fate -
I had minimised the suffering he'd undergone at my hands - and I'm so sorry
that I had uttered them.  In my thoughtlessness, I had diminished his pain
at the expense of my own.  Now in my remorse, I hug him closer to me and
tell him,

   "Norge, I'm so sorry."

   He squeezes me in a tight embrace before disentangling himself from me
and moving his head down to my groin.  Unexpectedly, I feel the delightful
touch of his warm, moist tongue massaging my balls much as he'd done so
many times before.  And as I'd always done at such moments, I arched my
body and heard my soft, appreciative moans of pleasure.

   Temporarily, my worries vanish and I give myself over completely to
Norge's ministrations.  Once more, I imagine myself as his Master being
pleasured by him and I reach out to draw his head closer to me.

   Relentlessly, he continues to work me with his tongue and I squirm
beneath his persistence.  I move my legs further apart to give him greater
access to my balls and I arch my back upwards in eager anticipation of what
I know comes next.

   Ever so slowly, he teases - no he torments - the super sensitive area
between my scrotum and anus with the flickering tip of his tongue and my
nerves -now stimulated into violent re-action - carry the messages of my
pleasure to my brain.  My body quivers from his onslaught and my soft moans
give way to loud cries of ecstatic happiness.  I take his head in my hands
and hold it tightly; selfishly I want more from him and in response he
wraps his mouth around my cock drawing it into a warm, moist embrace.  As
in the past, I demand much from Norge and as always he doesn't disappoint
me; he gives generously of himself to ensure my pleasure.

   My mind is closed to all else but Norge.  All my fears and concerns
disappear and I'm oblivious of all else but him.  My terror of the branding
iron and the skinning knife are temporarily forgotten and even the horrors
that await me at La Forêt recede into nothingness as Norge's mouth slides
slowly up and down the hard shaft of my cock while his tongue tantalises
its myriad of nerve ends.  Countless little volts of pleasure surge through
my eager, hungry body in response.

   Norge draws my cock deeper into the recesses of his mouth.  This always
amazes me.  I am well-endowed and I marvel at the ease with which Norge is
able to accommodate me.  But I'm not complaining.  I feel the working of
his tongue and the squeezing of his throat muscles as he continues to milk
me and I shiver at the exquisite throbbing of my cock and the delightful
churning of my balls.  I am so wrapped in the ecstasy of the moment that I
lose all awareness of time.

   For how long this continues, I don't know.  Then, I feel my rising
passion followed by the inevitable opening of the floodgates as I reach my
climax.  I hold Norge's head down on my cock and I feel the tight
contractions of his throat as he swallows hard.  It's impossible to
describe my sense of happiness and wellbeing and it is all due to Norge.  I
am strangely content and we lie in each other's strong embrace and wait
patiently for my subsidence.

   It is at that moment that I realise the true depth of my feelings for
him.  I'd been entranced by him from the moment I first saw him standing
lost and bewildered at the slave-dealers.  Then it had been my lust that
had aroused me and caused me to buy him.  Of course, as his Master, I'd
treated him badly and I now regret this.  But what I now feel for Norge
isn't cheap lust; it is something much nobler than that.

   Over the past two nights, Norge has demonstrated his selflessness and
generosity of spirit to me; he has comforted me and eased me into my own
slavery.  It would have been understandable - at least from my point of
view - if he'd simply ignored me and turned his back to me.  That I would
have expected.

   Instead, he'd shown me kindness and compassion and had awakened in me
emotions I'd not known I was capable of; now I'm able to look beyond my own
self-centredness and see in Norge all that is good and I'm humbled by him.
As I gaze fondly at him - lying beside me - I no longer see him as a lowly
slave but as the beautiful and noble person he is.

   And for the first time in my life I look beyond myself and realise that
I am capable of loving another man more than myself even if that man is a
slave.

   There is a sense of liberation in this for me.  I didn't ask to become a
slave - indeed I wish with all my heart that this isn't so.  But I am a
slave and I possess nothing except my love for Norge and that is all I can
give him.

   Tomorrow night, it will be my turn to demonstrate my love as I take his
cock into my mouth.  It will be the first time, I have done this.  Formerly
as a Master such an action would have been unthinkable.  Now as a slave, it
seems perfectly natural for me to do so.

   But for now, I draw closer to Norge and leaning my face into his, I kiss
him with all the gratitude that my heart allows.

   The pain of this first full day of my slavery is behind me and the
horrors of tomorrow and all the days to come are still before me.  But with
Norge by my side, I feel stronger and more confident that I will survive.

   I consider our Master's plans for us and I know eventually we are to run
together as a matched pair of naked ponies.  For me there will be shame and
humiliation in this as I am exposed to the curious gaze of my former
friends and acquaintances.

   But I know there will also be happiness for me as I work with Norge. 
And who knows?  There might even be pride in pacing myself against his
powerful stride.

   Shortly, we'll both awake to a new day of toil; Norge will be harnessed
to our Master's cart and I to one of the heavy lawnmowers.  But for now all
this is temporarily forgotten and I lie contented in Norge's arms.

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



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