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 "THE AFTERMATH" (Or What Follows Next) Chapter 11 Part 2: `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 his permission.  Please respect the integrity of
the story and don't do rewrites, make alterations or add pictures.  "

   Chapter 11: Part 2: `Slave 327'

   Fearfully, the slave stands alone in the middle of the room.  Placed
there by one of the slave assistants, he'd been ordered to assume the
display position and wait in silence.  He's grateful for the food and water
he'd just been given; this was the first he'd had since leaving Dave
Matheson's slave pens the previous day.

   With his eyes caste downwards he has very limited vision; his spatial
awareness of his surroundings is more of an assumption rather than an
actual recognition.

   He guesses at the room's drabness and overall ugliness.  His nostrils
wrinkle at the faint, stale smell of charring; at first it is vaguely
familiar and then suddenly he recognises it as the smell of branded flesh.
Filled with terror, he realises he is in the branding room and his body
shakes violently.

   Around him are the furnishings necessary for the processing and branding
of slaves.  He stands alongside the waist-high branding table; its long,
wooden length worn smooth and polished by the struggles of countless
slaves; its surface darkened by the fear induced sweat of its many, hapless
victims.  Lying atop the table are the leather straps and chains that will
soon hold him in their grim embrace.

   Out of the corner of his eye he sees a wooden, reclining chair also
equipped with straps and chains - he can only guess at its use - and
alongside it is a small table on top of which are placed, ready for use, a
chrome tray of gleaming surgical implements.

   Panic-stricken, he begins to quake in fear; his trembling legs barely
able to support him.  Fighting for air, his chest rapidly rises and falls
as his belly bellows in and out with each gasping breath.  Sweating
profusely, he fights hard to control his bladder and bowels.

   Feeling trapped, like a cornered animal, he looks around for some means
of escape even though his brain tells him there aren't any.  Loud sobs
convulse his body and his tears flow freely down his cheeks.

   The slave is truly at the depths of his despair.  Then, suddenly, he is
startled out of his despondency.

   "What the fuck is all the fuss about?"

   Somehow, for the slave, there is an unexpected air of re-assurance in
Sam Norton's question.

   Again the question is asked.  "What's all the fuss about, slave?  Lift
your head and look at me."

   "I'm sorry, Master.  But I'm afraid."

   "What are you afraid of?"

   "O -o -o -of what is going to happen to me, Master."

   "Nonsense!  You're here to be fitted out as your master requires -
that's all.  There will be some pain but that can't be helped.  But I'm not
going to damage you.  You're far too valuable.  Now pull yourself together
and let me get on with my job."

   "Yes Master." The slave sniffles, not completely re-assured.  For the
first time he notices the assistant standing slightly behind Sam holding a
small basket.

   "First of all, I'm going to fit you with your collar so let's have you
down on your knees."

   As the slave kneels, he watches as Sam retrieves a collar form the
assistant's basket.

   "You're in luck, slave.  Your master is giving you a shiny, brand new,
platinum collar that's never been worn before and has got your new club
number on it.  I engraved it there myself.  Now bow your head and bend your
neck."

   The slave shakes as the collar is fastened around his neck.  Was it only
yesterday that his old collar had been removed from him?  At first, he'd
felt naked without it but he had soon grown used to it not being there. 
Now, once again, he feels the physical weight of his slavery as this new
collar is locked around his neck.  He kneels patiently as Sam runs a finger
around the inside of the collar checking that it isn't too tight.

   "It's a perfect fit and it suits you, slave.  Now up on your feet and
what do you say?"

   Scrambling to his feet, the slave simply says, "Thank you, Master."

   "You'll need to remember the number `327' that your master has given
you. From now on that's what you'll be called by your master and his
clients.  So what's your number?'

   "It's `327', Master."

   "Good boy.  I like your pleasing manner.  Now let me check your cock and
balls.  We need to get them ringed don't we, 327?  You want them to look
good for your master's clients, don`t you, slave?"

   "Yes Master."

   The slave, 327 stands placidly at display, looks straight ahead and
wonders what to next expect.  Is he to feel pain or discomfort as the rings
are fitted, he wonders?  Will it take long?  He is now very aware of the
weight of the new collar fastened around his neck.  Will his cock and balls
feel a corresponding weight?

   He flinches nervously as Sam gently eases his genitals through the tight
fitting platinum rings.  Then, the inevitable happens; aroused at Sam's
touch, his cock begins to harden into an erection.

   "Keep it down, 327," Sam laughs, "at least until I get you ringed.  When
that's done you can show proud for all you're worth"

   Then after a few more adjustments.  "There now, we're all done.  That
didn`t hurt - did it slave?"

   "No Master." the relieved slave answers.

   As Sam steps back to survey his handiwork, the slave is very conscious
of being slightly off balance - the placement of the rings has forced his
genitalia forward and upward into a prominent display.  Once more, fully
aroused, his cock is showing wilfully hard and he aches for the release
denied him earlier.

   Not quite satisfied, Sam steps forward to adjust the rings on the slave.
He checks to make sure that the cock-ring, encircling both the cock and
balls, is flat against the plain of the lower stomach.  Then, with a gentle
tug, he ensured that both testicles are positioned at the bottom of the
ball-sac and permanently confined below the cinch ring.  Finally satisfied,
he orders the slave to.

   "Turn around, spread your feet, bend and grab hold of your ankles."

   Ever the perfectionist in these matters, Sam scrutinises the slave from
behind.  And he likes what he sees.  Both balls hang low and heavy below
the cinch and are individually contoured through the stretched tautness of
the hairless scrotum - just the way Simon likes them to be.  Sam reflects
Simon will be pleased at the slave's `new look' and, no doubt, it will also
be appreciated by the patrons at the Patroklos Club.

   Stepping forward, Sam takes them in his cupped hand and playfully
bounces them up and down, before making one final and imaginary adjustment
to the cinch.  Then with an almost affectionate pat on the ass, the slave
is ordered to.

   "Stand, face the front and display."

   "Well slave that was the easy part.  Now comes, what for you, will be
the hard part.  We need to get these ringed." Sam tells him, almost
maliciously, as he pinches both nipples.

   White-faced, the slave plaintively pleads.  "Please Master, don't do
this, please Master."

   "Right then, into the chair and be quick about it.  Your master will be
here in a couple of hours to collect you.  So let's move it along."

   "Please Master!  Please don't." The slave vainly continues his pleading.
"Please Mast....ARGHH!"

   Ignoring the pleas, Sam nods to his assistant standing behind the slave.
Totally unprepared, the slave hears the gentle swish of the cane passing
through the air just seconds before the loud thwack as it cuts across his
buttocks.

   "ARGHH!  O shit." the slave cries out at the second stroke of the cane.

   Furiously, Sam roared.  "MOVE!  Get your ass into the chair, NOW!

   The chastened slave, ruefully rubbing the red criss-crossed stripes on
his rump, hastens to obey.

   Moving quickly, the assistant soon has him constrained within the chair;
with straps fastened around his ankles, wrists, belly and neck.  Fearfully,
the crying slave watches Sam's every movement; he trembles as he feels
Sam`s fingers fondling his nipples.

   "You have beautiful tits, slave.  After I've enhanced them, I'm sure
they'll be very popular with your master's clients.  Let's get started
shall we?"

   The slave gasps in surprise as the chair is inclined backwards, thus
lowering his head and raising his feet, but placing his chest at the right
level for Sam to work on.  With his neck held fast by a high leather strap,
he is unable to raise his head and has very limited sideways movement.  Out
of the corner of his eye, he nervously watches as Sam stands at the
adjacent table examining the instruments on the tray.  Suddenly he needs to
urinate.

   Sensing 327's distress, Sam orders his assistant to help him by holding
a bucket between his legs and correctly positioning his now flaccid cock to
enable him to piss.  Sam isn't surprised; in his experience, most slaves
react to the threat of pain by losing control of their bladders and bowels
and this slave isn't any different.  However, from long experience, he
knows the tell-tale signs of when a slave is about to lose control and he
always takes steps to minimise any mess.  After all, he hates working on a
slave who had fouled himself.

   "Have you finished, slave?"

   Humiliated, the slave answered.  "Yes, Master."

   "Good!  Here we go then." Sam replies as he used an antiseptic swipe to
sterilise both nipples and their surrounding areas.

   Sam is very particular with hygiene when working on a slave.  His record
to date is impeccable; he's never had a slave suffer from an infection as a
result of any of his procedures.  He's proud of this and he isn't about to
spoil it now.

   With his acute business acumen, he knows this emphasis on a slave's
well-being is valued by his many customers and because of it, they don't
have any qualms about entrusting their slaves to his care - a fact that Sam
greatly appreciates.

   After all, as a businessman, he stands or falls by the quality of his
workmanship.  Consequently, he ensures all the instruments he used are of
the finest quality and that they are sterilised immediately before and
after each use.  After all, slaves are valuable assets and represent a
considerable investment of their owners' money; another fact that Sam -
himself a slave-holder - appreciates.

   Apprehensively, the slave waits as Sam works on his nipples.  Unable to
raise his head to see what is happening, his chest rises and falls in time
with his rapid breathing and he is bathed in sweat born out of his fear.

   If he were able to look, he'd see Sam use a black felt tipped pen to
mark the entry and exit spots for the needle on each side of his sensitive
nipples.  Sam ensures these spots line up perfectly with each other and are
carefully positioned where the nubs of the nipples met their surrounding
areolae.

   Sam takes his time in doing this.  From his point of view it is
essential to get the preliminaries right - he would never jeopardise his
work with sloppy preparation.  Satisfied that the marks are in line, he
then uses a set of callipers to determine the thickness of the nipples - he
needs to know what length and diameter of needle to use.  He decides to use
a large gauge needle; the slave's tits are large and thick enough to take
this size and anyway, Simon has stipulated the slave is to be fitted with
heavy gauge rings.

   Sensing what is to happen; the slave arches his back and struggles in a
futile attempt to free himself from the chair.  Once more, he begins to
plead although he knows his pleas will be ignored.

   With a re-assuring....  "STEADY BOY!  STEADY!" Sam strokes the slave's
sweat soaked, straining chest.  Then, not unkindly, he places a piece of
leather strapping between the slave's teeth and tells him to.

   "Here, bite down on this.  It will help to ease the pain."

   Then, disgusted at this display of sympathy for a slave, he gruffly
adds.

   "It'll stop you from biting your tongue.  We don't want you damaged, do
we?"

   Never before has Sam had shown such consideration to a slave.  Why then
did he just do that?  But, inexplicably, there is an indefinable something
about 327 that appeals to Sam.  And if he needs evidence of this then he
need not look any further that his massive erection tent-poling his
trousers.

   Looking into the slave's fear-filled eyes he feels an inexplicable
attraction to the slave - certainly the slave is very appealing.  He
decides that the only cure for this attraction is to fuck him.

   And for that to happen, he'll need to visit the club at the earliest
opportunity.  Now, once more in control, he picks up a needle and
approaches the slave.  The slave steels himself for what is to follow.

   Sam works swiftly; he never prolongs this procedure.  In his experience,
it is better for a slave if it is performed quickly; he does this not out
of any consideration for the slave's suffering but rather to prevent him
going into shock.

   The slave's expectation of pain is greater than the reality.  Certainly,
he feels the quick, penetrating pain as the needle passes under both
nipples but it isn't as severe as he'd anticipated.  However, this is
followed by the deep, throbbing pain of his lacerations.

   The slave bites down on the leather gag and his body spasms as Sam
inserts the heavy, five centimetre rings through his perforated nipples. 
Finally, satisfied with his work, Sam steps back once more back to appraise
the slave.

   He is very pleased with the slave's transformation.  This time
yesterday, the slave had been a rough, field slave; his superb torso
unkempt and covered with body hair.  Now, his beautiful, glabrous body
displays the perfection of his musculature and his new body jewellery
enhances that perfection.

   Sam always takes pride in his work and over the years he's transformed
many slaves into objects of beauty for their owners.  However, this slave
is exceptional; Sam can't recall another to beat him.  Many others could
come close to matching him - but not quite.  Sam is extremely gratified and
he knows that the slave's new owner, Simon will also be satisfied with
327's transformation.

   "Well 327 that's done and I've got to say, you look even better than I
thought you would.  Your master will be pleased with you.  And if I'm any
judge, you'll be very popular with your master's clients too.  "

   The slave flinches as Sam moves the new rings through his painful
nipples with the advice to him to" move these from time to time until
you're healed.  I'll also mention it to your master before you leave."

   As Sam leaves, he instructs his assistant.

   "Let him settle down for twenty minutes or so, then move him onto the
branding table.  And don't forget to heat up the branding iron ready for
use when his master arrives."

   >>>>>>>>>>>>>>

   Now, the fearful slave lies strapped to the branding table and waits.

   The only sounds to break the silence of the room are his ragged
breathing and the occasional metallic `click' of the thermostat on the
branding iron as it cycles through its heat settings.  Like a moth's
attraction to a candle, his eyes are fixed on the glowing end of the brand;
he shudders violently as he anticipates its inevitable use on his body.

   In his misery, he reflects that three days ago he was happily - well, as
happy as a slave can be - employed as one of Andy Trevorrow's farm slaves.
There, he knew the affection and companionship of his fellow slaves -
especially that of the two blond cousins.  Once more, tears well in his
eyes as he thinks of them..

   Although his life as a field slave had been hard and the labour
repetitious, he had, however enjoyed a degree of certainty and a measure of
stability in his life.  Monotonously, each day was the same as the one
before it; he would be woken before dawn, fed and watered and then driven
into the fields to begin a long day of back-breaking labour under the
supervision of his master's overseers.

   This supervision had been benign in that the Trevorrow's, both father
and son, were conscious of the good appearance of their slaves and had
always insisted that they not be punished unnecessarily.  Therefore whips
and canes were used only when warranted.  Then, at the end of the day, once
more, he'd been fed and watered and locked in the stables for the night. 
There, lying between the two cousins, he'd enjoyed the warmth and comfort
of their hard, naked bodies pressing against his own.  And of course there
were the many, happy hours of sex with one another.  He weeps at his loss.

   Suddenly he hears approaching footsteps and voices.  Turning his head,
he sees his new master and Sam Norton enter the room.

   "Well Simon, what do you think?  Does he come up to your expectations?"
Sam asks.

   Simon leaves the question unanswered as his hands move over the slave's
body testing it for its new smoothness.  He fingers the collar around the
slave's neck before moving down to his chest.  The slave flinches and yelps
as Simon toys with the rings piercing his now swollen nipples.

   "I've instructed the slave that he must move the rings from time to time
to prevent the flesh from adhering to them as he heals.  I suggest you make
sure he does so, Simon."

   "Thanks Sam.  I'll make sure he does.  Or I should say, I'll make sure
his `buddy' does."

   "A buddy?  What's a buddy, Simon?"

   "Well, I usually pair a new slave like this one with one of my more
experienced slaves.  It's that slave's job to serve as an example to the
new slave and show him the ropes so to speak.  He'll instruct the new slave
in the things he needs to know to be the perfect pleasure slave.  He'll
teach the new slave the different positions that he'll need to adopt in
front of my clients - and things like walking and displaying his body
seductively - the proper manner of address and speech to my customers, how
to serve as a valet, work as a waiter and as an assistant in the club's
bars, pools and bathhouse areas.  You know - things like that.  But most
importantly, he teaches the new slave how to service a patron's cock."

   "That sounds like a good system to me, Simon.  Does it work?"

   "You bet it does, Sam." Simon laughs." As part of the training, I adopt
an inflexible policy of `if one slave offends both slaves are punished'. 
Take it from me, that exercises their minds and ensures they remain focused
on the task in hand.  It never fails to work."

   "Do you have a buddy picked out for this slave, Simon?"

   "Indeed I do, Sam.  I've chosen my most popular slave to pair with him.
This particular slave is a firm favourite with the patrons which, however,
is unfortunate for him."

   "How is that so, Simon?"

   "Well he's so popular that supply can't keep up with demand so to
speak." Simon chuckles.  "I literally have to take bookings for his
services and I'm hoping that this new slave will prove as popular and
relieve the pressure on him.  Somehow, looking at him I suspect he will. 
Although, he'll need to do much better than this." Simon adds, in disgust,
as he fondles the slave's disinterested cock.

   "I wouldn't worry on that score, Simon.  You should have seen the show
he put on for me earlier when I fitted him with his cock-rings.  It was
very impressive, believe me.  I guess it`s the thought of the branding iron
that's keeping it down at the moment."

   "Good!  I'm glad to hear it.  And to answer your first question Sam. 
Yes, he is everything I expected of him - and more.  I'm delighted with him
As usual, you've excelled yourself.  My congratulations and thank you for a
job well done."

   "As always, it was my pleasure, Simon.  The slave was a delight to work
with.  But I guess you're anxious to be on your way back to the club with
him.  I see the iron's ready, so let's get him finished."

   The slave, fully aware of his imminent branding, plaintively begs his
new master.

   "Please Master, please?"

   Straining against the straps holding him to the table, the slave hears
Sam ordering him to open his mouth.  Defiantly, the slave disobeys and
keeps his mouth firmly closed.

   "Open your mouth, fuck you."

   Sam angrily shouts as he pinches the slave's nostrils and waits for him
to begin breathing through his mouth.  Then, as he does so, the slave once
more, tastes and feels the leather strap between his teeth.  Desperately,
he bites down hard in anticipation of the brand.

   "Where do you want the brand, Simon?  In the usual spot?" Sam asks;
indicating a spot on the right side of the slave's chest.

   "Yes Sam.  Right about there!  On his right pectoral about five
centimetres above the nipple should be right."

   "I'll just wipe away the sweat before I apply the brand; it takes better
if the skin is dry."

   The slave raises his head and watches in horrified fascination as Sam
retrieves the branding iron.  Desperately he begins to thrash around;
struggling against the tight straps holding him to the table.  Arching his
back and thrusting his chest upwards in a vain attempt to break free, his
musculature is highlighted by the stress of his struggling.  Through the
confusion of his panic he hears Sam telling him to.

   "Settle down, slave.  It'll soon be over."

   This serves only as an incentive for the slave to struggle even harder.

   "Simon, the slave's struggling means I'm going to need your help.  If
you could just hold his legs steady, I'll get my slave to hold his
shoulders down long enough for me to apply the brand."

   Now, as the slave struggles helplessly in the hands of his Master and
Sam's slave, he curses unintelligibly through his gag.

   "I think the slave is abusing us, Sam.  Do all slaves re-act like this?"

   "Yes usually, most of them do.  Their fear overcomes their normal good
behaviour.  But then, some slaves accept the inevitable and just lie
placidly as they are branded.  That type makes my job much easier.  But
those slaves are the exception rather than the rule.  Most of them act up
just like your slave here."

   "Well then, Sam he's just earned himself a caning for his bad behaviour.
As soon as we arrive back at the club he`ll receive ten of the best
delivered by my head trainer and believe me he doesn`t hold back when
applying the cane to a recalcitrant slave's ass."

   "It makes good sense to punish him right at the outset.  It fixes in his
mind that you are the master and that you won't tolerate this type of bad
behaviour from him.  My guess is that his acting up is fear induced and
completely out of character.  Nevertheless, a caning will be good for him.
I believe slaves should receive a periodic whipping or caning.  All my
slaves routinely receive one, whether it's warranted or not.  It does
wonders for their attitude.  Now just hold him steady.  Steady...  Here we
go.....  NOW!"

   The slave screams through his gag as the iron sears itself into his
chest.  372 is lost in the intensity of his pain and his suffering borders
on the unendurable.  For the slave, his mind is clouded by shock and pain
and time stands still.  He is unaware that Sam has withdrawn the brand - it
grim work done.  The lingering severity of his pain convinces him it is
still searing itself into his flesh.

   The slave gradually realises that the actual branding is over.  With his
body still aflame, he is sweating profusely and through the red haze of his
pain and confusion he hears himself crying.  Looking up, he sees his Master
and Sam, engaged in conversation, gazing down at him.

   "Well that's it, Simon.  He's finished.  I know the brand looks a bit
angry at the moment, but it'll heal up cleanly." The slave cries out in
pain as Sam, placing his fingers just above and below the brand, stretches
his tortured flesh.  "Great!  Crisp and clearly outlined-just the way a
brand should be.  Just keep an eye out for infection until it heals over. "

   "The slave looks distressed.  Is that normal, Sam?'

   "He's alright, Simon.  He's just a bit sick and sorry for himself.  But
he'll soon get over it.  Slaves are resilient and I've never lost one to
branding." Sam laughs "We'll let him settle down for a few minutes and then
we can have him off the table and you can be on your way with him."

   "That's excellent, Sam.  And he'll be even sicker and sorrier when I get
him back to the club; he'll have a sore ass to think about after his
caning. But once again, I thank you for a job well done.  And don't forget
that my thank you invitation to you to visit the club and use the slave
still stands."

   "Thank you, Simon.  I'll certainly take you up on that.  I look forward
to spending time with him."

   "Look Sam, I've just had a thought.  Why don't you come to the club for
the slave's initiation?  I'm sure you'd find it interesting and
entertaining."

   "It does sound interesting, Simon.  What happens?"

   "Well, as I was explaining to Dave Matheson only yesterday - by the way,
he'll be there - it's a charity fundraising night.  When this slave is
introduced to the club's patrons for the first time, we'll auction him off
to the highest bidder.  The winning bidder gets to fuck the slave before
anyone else does.  I guess I should qualify that a little.  As the slave's
owner, I get first bite of the cherry, as you'd expect.  Anyway it's a fun
night and all the money raised goes to a worthwhile charity.  So what do
you think; how about it?"

   "Simon, count me in.  I'd be delighted to attend.  It'll give me the
opportunity to see how my handiwork has turned out.  When is it?'

   Not until he's fully trained.  I'd guess about two to three weeks from
now.  Naturally, I'm keen to get him started as soon as possible.  I need
to start getting a return on my investment in him, so his training will be
speeded up.  Anyway, I'll let you know in advance so you can arrange to be
there, Sam."

   "Simon, I look forward to it and thank you."

   "No!  Thank you, Sam for your excellent work I guess all that needs to
be done now is for me to settle up with you for your work on my slave. 
Shall we go to your office for that?"

   "Certainly, Simon.  By the way, are you going to tomorrow's auction?  I
hear there's some interesting stock being offered for sale; some captured
soldiers from the north."

   "Yes, Sam.  As usual, I'll be there.  I attend all auctions as I'm
always on the lookout for suitable recruits for the club.  Occasionally I
find an outstanding specimen but mostly they're just run of the mill stuff.
But I keep an open mind and attend as you never know what you'll find on
offer.  And, actually you're right about the soldiers.  I took a quick
stroll through Dave Matheson's pens yesterday and saw a couple of
possibilities for the club.  I'll check them out tomorrow and decide then
if I'll bid for them.  You`ll be there of course?  And you'll be there with
your new display boards?"

   "Yes Simon I`ll be there.  And yes, I`ll be introducing my displays to
the general public tomorrow."

   "Good.  I'll make sure I look in on your booth tomorrow and see what
reaction you've had to them.  They should prove to be quite a novelty."

   "Before we go to my office, I'll just instruct my assistant to make your
slave ready for you.  What do you want done with him, Simon?"

   "Oh!  The usual I think, Sam.  Fasten his wrists behind his back, put a
leash around his neck and fasten him to my waiting rickshaw if you don`t
mind, Sam.  He can run alongside my ponies back to the club.  No doubt, the
exercise will be good for him"

   "Consider it done, Simon."

   Once released, the slave clambers painfully off the table and stands
defeated as his hands are fastened behind his back.  He yelps with pain at
the stress this placed on the tortured, stretched flesh of his chest. 
Then, leashed he is led to wait alongside his master's rickshaw.

   Within the hour, he'll be at the Patroklos Club and his life as
`pleasure slave 327' will begin.

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