Passing

PASSING A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk@yahoo.com) Part Five More conversation with a slaver. Sam revealed. Making a movie.

Perhaps I'd touched a raw nerve even speculating about the extent of Dave's illegal business dealings, and it was clear that he wanted to change the subject completely. And, fascinating though it was to see more about how the slave trade worked at this end of the market, I did have me own problem that needed working on. And I certainly didn't want to tell him more about my life than I absolutely needed to.

So I used the old trick of simply answering the part of a "stacked" series of questions that I wanted to. "Yes, Sam likes to think he knows everything. But age and experience will always triumph over youth and enthusiasm as the old saying goes! And I do manage to keep some of my private affairs secret from him. Anyway, it's quite simple, really. I've acquired a slave. And I need the position regularised."

"A pillar of society like you? `Regularised'..?"

"It's a little complicated. I discovered a slave who has been passing'. Pretending to be a free man, and rather successfully so. For several years. And I decided to claim' him."

"Claim?"

"Well, rather more than that. I - or rather my slave Greg and I - seized him. And now he's at my place, he's my slave."

"Well who would have thought it! When I first saw you, I thought you were the very essence of law-abiding public rectitude. And now `seizing' a slave. Keeping an illegal slave for yourself...."

"He's not illegal! He`s a proper slave, with a SIN tattooed on his arm and everything."

"Yes, but if he's been passing, then the slave is guilty of a serious crime. He won't even be bull whipped - just executed. And they could make the case that you have been harbouring him - an escaped slave, a slave who was passing. You knew, and you didn't immediately inform the Slave Police."

"Oh I'm sure they won't see it that way..."

"And why not? The SP get a bonus, you know, based on the `takings' they make from dealing with slaves. So if they decided to investigate and you were found guilty and enslaved and sold, they'd get 25% of that - you'd fetch a good price, as you look in good condition for a what - thirty three year old."

"Thirty five...."

"Very good condition. Then there's selling all your property - including that slave Greg, a good looking slave, worth a lot - and your savings, pension fund.... Why wouldn't they try to enslave you? "

"But the law...."

"As I said, it looks as if you're harbouring the slave. He's presumably at your place now, and has been for some time."

"A couple of days...."

"Long enough. You get 24 hours to report escapees, and after that...."

This looked serious! Or perhaps this Dave was bluffing, trying to scare me so he could strike some sort of deal. But I don't scare easily - I always play for high stakes in business. I'm used to playing my cards close to my chest, so shrugged nonchalantly. He gave me a long, slow stare then said "Anyway, we might as well see how bad things really are. You said this slave had a SIN tattoo?"

I reeled off the eight digits - numbers come easily to me of course.

Dave typed them into his terminal and I could see him reading and kind of nodding. "Hmmm... A good looking property, or at least he was when he was enslaved and just before he escaped."

"Very good looking. That's what attracted me to him - he was sitting opposite me on the tube. Then I saw his SIN by accident."

Dave looked at me seriously "My best advice to you...."

"Yes?"

"My best advice is to forget all about this. Have the slave vanish. Forget you ever had anything to do with it."

"Well if he went free how could I be sure he wouldn't come back? Even try to blackmail me?"

"When I say vanish' I mean just that. Have it disappeared', as we say in the trade. Removed from the face of the planet. His record will remain open for 100 years and then be wiped. I can arrange that, for a modest fee."

"Disappeared? What do yo mean?"

"Do I need to spell it out? Well, killed. And the body disposed of. It will go out to the disposal works at Becton and be ground up for pet food, like all the other dead slaves."

"You can't be serious! Kill a slave? A slave like that?"

"I am serious. Perhaps it's you who is not being serious, not serious enough about the position you find yourself in. Dispose of this slave, or get yourself enslaved. You can always buy another slave if you find this one so attractive. Slaves in this condition of his age don't come cheap, but you look as if you could easily afford it, if I may say so."

"Yes, I could afford it. I bought Greg, who was expensive, years ago when I didn't even have as much as I do now. But that's not the point."

"Well what is the point? The killing? It's a slave, you know, not a free man.... Slaves get killed all the time, at work.... Or with a Court order if they have been violent or whatever."

"It's not that. It's just that this one's special..."

He almost sneered. "Another mistake, then. Falling for a slave! And after only a couple of days! You really ought to think buy em, fuck `em, sell 'em'. No romantic involvement with a slave. It's madness."

I slammed my hand down on the desk with anger and frustration. "How dare you! What do you take me for? Some sort of idiot who has nothing better to do than have sex with slaves?"

I rarely lose my temper and show it publicly. I do lose it frequently, but I have learned not to show it. So it's rare for me to make a public display like that. Then I realised that this Dave was pretty good at meetings, too, as he gave that same little smirk and said quietly "Except that Greg, of course. Pretty fond of him, I suppose. You've had him all this time..."

I recovered my composure instantly, and smiled. "What? Fuck Greg? No, he's just there to provide services any gentleman requires - he's got a good mouth and a trained throat. But how did you know I've had him for some time?"

"The girl saw his SIN and I looked it up before I came out to meet you. The value of a slave a man has is a useful guide to how wealthy he is in general."

"Look, I don't want the slave killed, as he's mine. And yes, of course I could afford one like him. Better than him, if I wanted. But that's not the point. It's more complicated."

"How so?"

"I suppose you'd call it the thrill of the chase'. I saw this slave passing'. I made a plan and did something about it. And now it's mine. The spoils of my labour. Something I did." I leaned forward to show we were being confidential and went on "I fight for things all the time. That's what I do. I fight to make deals, deals that give the very best return for my company. When I started out it a very personal, and a huge load of fun - outwitting the opposition, wheeling and dealing, scheming, making things happen... Now it's my people who have all the day-to-day action: I supervise, orchestrate, manage them... I cut huge, huge deals, but it's not as much fun."

"So there I was on the tube to the office for another day of making money, and there's this stunning man. And then I see he's a slave. Illegally `passing'. And now he's mine, through my efforts. It's a bit like the old days - I've got something through my own direct efforts. And I'm not about to let it go! So whatever the cost, there needs to be a way through this - money isn't an issue here."

Dave was smiling now. "Yes, I understand! My parents wanted me to go into law, or into the city, or something. But I only ever wanted to be doing something for myself, and dealing with slaves - or, rather, resolving problems with slaves, not so much dealing, is so satisfying."

"I think we understand each other then. So what's the first step?"

"You need to leave it with me for a couple of days whilst I look into a few things. You could bring the slave here for safe keeping..."

"No, I'm enjoying the interplay with my other slave."

"You're putting yourself at a higher risk, keeping it around our place. If there should be a raid..."

"In my building, there are no raids! There's a senior police officer living five floors below me, and a government minister eight down."

"I'll be in touch then...."

At that moment the slave girl from reception came in and said, rather familiarly I thought, "That nephew of yours is here."

Before any of us could do or say anything, Sam burst into the room. He was looking even more interesting than usual - tight, low-slung jeans, and a leather bomber jacket emphasised his pert little bum. And he was bouncing around, full of fitness and vitality.

"Dave! And.... Sir! I just came to see if everything was OK."

Dave glared at him. "I've told you to stay out of here when I've got clients. We might have been in the middle of important business."

"I wanted to make sure my boss was OK...."

"Well of course I am! You must have seen Greg outside, and you know that if he was there nothing serious could happen."

Dave grinned. "It's his usual curiosity. He wants to know everything. Wants to be in on everything." He winked at me, out of Sam's sight, and went on smoothly "Now you're here, though, you can help me out. You do want to help, right? To do me a favour?"

"Yes, of course, Dave."

"It's the new pictures for the website. I'm going to have Timmy here feature - I'm not going to sell him yet, but it might drive some business through the doors when they see his nice little body. I'll get the camera." He turned to me and added "You're welcome to stay....", winking again. So I nodded.

It wasn't particularly interesting at first - although Timmy has that nice slim little body I've told you about, and the way he was so thin and totally shaved made him look very young, he basically is not "my type". Dave had him done in the tiny shorts, and then had him strip them off almost coquettishly, before doing several totally naked poses where he also had to erect himself, and then bend right over for close-ups of his asshole.

Then Dave asked me "Could I use that slave of yours? He's in better physical condition than any of the stock out in the cages, as you've seen. And I want some pictures with more than one body in them."

"I'd rather not. And in any case wouldn't it be rather dishonest, suggesting you had him for sale, when he's not? You can't be too careful with the trade inspectors always looking for misrepresentations..."

"You're right. But we can show pictures of the slave Timmy and a free man, providing I don't say it's two slaves." His gaze turned and he went on smoothly "So come on then, Sammy, out of those clothes, and let's do the business...."

"Hey Dave, no way! I'm not having my pictures splashed all over the web."

"I won't show your face. Just your body. I want Timmy across your lap and you spanking him, as this gives a good hint of some of the specialised services I offer. Come on, you owe me a few favours..."

Sam looked kind of helplessly at me. "Don't mind me, Sam. We're all men here. I've seen enough naked men in my time - I used to play rugger at university, you know, and the showers..."

"No, I really don't want to, Dave."

"Sammy, I think you've forgotten a few little things I've helped you keep from your mom, and step mom, and her bloke, and your aunts, and cousins.... You owe me. Now, get that jacket and shirt off."

Slowly, very slowly, he undid his jacket and hung it carefully on the back of one of Dave's chairs, then unbuttoned his shirt and untucked it from his jeans. I'd always wanted to see the whole of his torso, and not just the glimpses I'd seen between shirt buttons, and I wasn't disappointed. Not a trace of fat. Lovely smooth skin. No unsightly rows of muscles, but clearly fit and muscular nevertheless. And a very nicely finished navel - tucked in - from which a faint treasure trail ran downwards. To add to the excitement his jeans were so low-hanging that there was a couple of centimetres of the waistband of his underwear showing.

There was a bit of messing around then as Dave took shots, posing Timmy's pert little body across Sam's lap, then getting Sam to spank him, albeit gently. Finally he seemed to have stopped and Sam stood up, looking relieved. Then Dave turned to me and said quietly "I don't know if it's only me - but you look like a man who understands slaves and knows what he likes... Did you think this was erotic? It's desire that drives a lot of this business."

"Yes, it was erotic... A bit."

"I thought so. We need to do more. Sammy, off with those jeans and underwear."

"No way!"

"Come on, Sammy! Do it for Dave... And remember all your family. And as your boss says, we're all men here, and we've all seen naked blokes before. And I can tell from that bulge in your jeans you've got nothing to be ashamed of... You're always flashing yourself around, showing it off to pull in the women..."

"No, Dave!"

"I don't like to pressure you, Sammy. But remember that money you borrowed? I haven't seen any of the repayments yet.... It sounds a bit ungrateful to me, not wishing to return a favour when I've been so patient about the money. You can look at it as a way of paying off some of the interest..."

It was my turn now. "Sam hasn't borrowed money from you has he, Dave? The financial Services Authority is very hot on unauthorised loans from irregular lenders. They think it exposes people working in the industry to pressure. I hope there isn't a loan, as I'd have to report it and Sam's chances of a good job..." This wasn't strictly true, of course. But it sounded good.

Slowly and reluctantly Sam undid his belt and his flies, pushed the jeans to the floor with some difficulty as they were so tight, levered his shoes off, and stepped out of the jeans. He stood there in his small, tight, shorts - the little legs made his thighs look particularly appealing. His arms were wrapped around himself, as if to give him some comfort or protection.

"All the way, Sammy."

"Dave, please. You can take the photos of him lying on my lap like this. They won't see my underwear..."

"They will, or they might. And it will inhibit my photography. Now, off with them."

Sammy was even slower now, but once the waistband was down beyond his cock - which interestingly was half-hard so he evidently find it too distressing - he kind of dropped them quickly and stepped out of them. Now he was almost defiant as he stood in front of us.

"...and the socks. We can't have one slave in bare feet and another who is supposed to be a slave too with socks on."

On those occasions when I've watched them, and in the changing rooms when I had time for sport, I've always enjoyed seeing men take their socks off. They sort of perch on one foot, bend their other leg to pull the sock off, then repeat it with the other foot. And all the time they are doing this the muscles in their backsides and thighs are stretching and bending, their cocks are waving around, and if you're lucky you might even get a glimpse of their taint. But not on this occasion. But I suppose you can't have everything.

Dave then directed Sammy to sit in one of the chairs, and to straddle Timmy across his lap. My own cock was ramrod hard now as I could imagine the feeling of the hot, sweaty flesh of both young men pressed close to each other. And when Dave positioned Timmy to be more kind of "central", their two cocks must have been right together. And there's nothing as good as another man's cock pressed against yours, I think. I wondered if Timmy and Sam were enjoying it as much as I was!

The spanking was mildly interesting, but only in as much as it caused Timmy to writhe and squirm about - if their cocks had not been erect before, all this motion would be rubbing them so hard they now would be, I reasoned.

When Dave said he'd got enough images, Timmy stood up and stood there rubbing at his flaming red bum with his hands - and, indeed, he was erect. And under the light I'm sure I could see a drop of pre-cum drooling out of the end of his cock. Poor Sam, though - as soon as Timmy stood up he clutched at his crotch to cover himself with both hands before standing. But then he realised the difficulty he had - presumably he didn't want us to see his erection, and yet with it shielded by his hands there was no way he could dress. It's not surprising, I suppose - even men who are used to being naked together in the changing rooms never want other men to see them erect, and I've seen many men making frantic attempts to drag a towel around themselves if it seems to be happening.

Sam chose to fix the problem by turning his back to us and reaching out for his underwear, but Dave winked at me and reached over and slapped his bum - not hard, but enough to make Sam gasp and involuntarily turn around. Sure enough, as I'd thought he would, he had a very, very nice erect cock. It was stretched so high that it looked as if his cock head would bump into his belly. That's one really good thing about young men, I think: the force of their erections. As you get older somehow it's never the same, and they barely go above the horizontal. And sure enough, he too had a little jewel of shiny pre-cum.

Sam was blushing desperately as he pulled on his little shorts, trying to stuff his cock into them and only half succeeding, and then pulling up his jeans - I bet he wished now that he hadn't got those ultrafashionable, ultra-tight ones. He didn't speak to us as he put his shirt on, and Dave said to me "I bet that's the only time you've heard young Sammy be quiet for more than thirty seconds!"

I said goodbye to Dave then, with him saying again that we'd be in contact in a couple of days, and we went out through the slave pens and the yard which now I saw was full of men alone doing sexual exercises - one of the guards was ordering them to all wank themselves in unison.

"Sir, don't tell anyone at the office, will you?", Sam whispered.

"Of course not! But you've got nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Most of the men there would be glad to have a cock like yours, especially as they're so much physically taller generally. And I understand some of the women already know, they've had practical experience of it, I'm told."

I saw Sam smile then, and he was clearly recovering his normal happy self. And proud of himself, too, in that endearing way he has.

Greg was waiting for us in reception still, and as we went through the door he frantically tried to brush the girl off him - she was twining herself all over him, it looked like, and her tits were brushing against his bare chest through the crack where the zipper of his fleece had slipped down. "Thank god, sir...."

"I thought you weren't interested in the woman, Greg. You could have gone all the way, you know."

"It's not me, sir. It's her. She's been all over me, sir. I've had to hold her off..."

"Are you sure, Greg?", Sam asked. "It looks to me as if you're pretty interested!" He pointed at the bulge in Greg's shorts as he said this, and both Sam and I laughed - which didn't seem to amuse Greg at all.

By the time we'd got back to my apartment I'd thought about what I needed to do, and I needed a good camera - I usually use the one in my communicator, but the need now was for the ability to film for a long time. I was impatient to proceed, and didn't want to risk the "guaranteed on the day delivery" services, so decided to go up to Tottenham Court Road to buy one. It was a god opportunity to get some exercise, too, so I changed into my running gear, and told Greg to do so too as we could run together.

It's a good run across Green Park and then up the mass of small streets to avoid most of the worst of the traffic fumes, and I soon found a camera in the Tottenham Court Road stores, and a tripod to hold it on - although it took three shops and a lot of bargaining to get the price to rock-bottom - I just have to do this, I can't stand wasting money. And then we ran home - I really pushed the pace because I wanted to show Greg he wasn`t the only fit one (especially as he had to carry the camera and tripod, which, although no particularly heavy, did obstruct a runner's really free style).

Jason was slumped in a corner when we got back, and it looked as if the lazy bugger had fallen asleep. I woke him up with a good kick (not too hard as I didn't want to damage him, and certainly not to the head, or the balls, as I wanted to keep him in good condition). It amused me then to tell Greg to give him a good workout as I caught up on the Weekend Financial Times, and I half-watched as he was made to run on the spot, do star jumps, and pres-ups, and things like that - his cock and balls bobbing up and down were probably rather uncomfortable as although he clearly was used to working out he`d probably always done it wearing some sort of support like a jock strap or in-built supporters in shorts. Half way through I told Greg that perhaps he needed to do some more work on his fitness too as he'd been "breathing hard" when we got back from the shops. He scowled at me but did of course obey, and it got harder for Jason then as Greg attempted to show that he was fitter than Jason! It didn't seem fair to have Jason mostly naked, so I told Greg he could keep his T on but to lose his shorts, too - which he didn't like. I was really distracted from the FT then as seeing two semi-naked men working out competitively is really quite arousing. In the afternoon I worked away on my scheme, and by teatime I was ready.

Greg had been trying to watch a big rugby game on TV (with the sound turned right down so as not to disturb me, and probably in the hope that I wouldn't notice as he knows I dislike sport on TV. To me, sport's something you do - running, skiing, squash... not a passive thing you watch. And even the sight of the professional rugby players isn't really all that good these days - I guess at the start of the century all those big fit men bending over in the scrum in very, very tight shorts would have been extraordinarily erotic. But now you can go into any of the slave sex places and have big fit men bend over in front of you in real life, and without the shorts!

As the game as getting to its climax with only a few points at stake and five minutes to go, I stopped what I was doing and flipped the TV off. I enjoyed seeing the disappointment on Greg's face, followed by a flash of anger, but he did not of course criticise me. When I used to live with a man (a free man, that is) it would have caused a torrent of abuse, but Greg's been my slave no for long enough to know that I will not tolerate any dissent.

I told him what I wanted, and soon he was clambering around - making Jason co-operate, too - in pinning a white bed sheet to the top of the curtains to make a plain backdrop. I then had Jason sit on a small set of steps (kept somewhere around to make it easy to change light bulbs or whatever) in front of it.

"Right, Jason. You're going to tell us your life story. I want just the key details - what you did at uni, your first job, your enslavement, escape, how you got a job with George, "passing" as a free man for all that time, and how you managed to get all the right financial sign-offs in spite of not having free man's papers...."

He began, and soon I stopped him, barking "too long". And after a time when he seemed to be incapable of just stating the facts and I had to keep correcting him, I warned him to mend his ways or else I would order Greg to spank him again. That mostly seemed to do the trick. As he was speaking I wrote key words on individual pages from my pad, in very large letters. Then I rehearsed him, making him go through the story again, and again, and again, as I held up the pages.

"Please... This is so boring...." He whined.

"Again!"

After that, it seemed to be about right. He had it all, quite smooth and "natural" sounding. Not as if he had been rehearsed, or coerced.

"Now, I'm going to film it. You'll see we have a plain background, and you'll only be seen from the waist up so no details of the apartment will be visible. This is going to be totally untraceable. But first..."

I went into the bedroom and fished out my white shirt I'd worn the previous day from the laundry basket, and came back and threw it at him. "Off with that T, and put this on. I want you to look like a professional".

He dared to sniff sort of suspiciously at my shirt! Sure, I had sweat a lot on Friday, but so what? And I had to snap at him again to get a move on. Somehow he looked even more erotic standing there in the shirt than he had in the singlet - the shirt was just that bit shorter on him as he's so tall, so the bottom couple of centimetres of his cock hung down below the hem. I told him to sit back on top of the steps, and then positioned the camera so he was properly framed and in focus, and made him say a few lines so I could tell it was picking up the sound OK.

"Now, here's the rules for the live show, Jason. Listen well. You're going to go through your life story one more, and only once, as I film as I want it to sound really spontaneous. I'll stand behind the camera and show you your cue cards to make sure you don't miss anything out. And to focus your mind and give you just that little degree of nervousness that might be expected if this was truly the first time you'd done it, Greg here is going to lie on the floor out of shot, and hold your balls. At the merest signal from me he'll squeeze them good and hard. So don't upset me, don't make me get Greg to hurt you. Understand?"

I'd been motioning to Greg to position himself during this, and I could see him now reaching up to find Jason's balls as he sat there. This was all doubly exciting for me as not only was Jason nervous and hating it, but so was Greg! He still thinks of himself as "straight" as I've told you, and it was a huge effort initially to get him to suck my cock, which he still hates doing. So making him hold Jason's balls was a really unpleasant task for him.

We got through the filming first time, though, and watching it I was pleased with the result - "spontaneous", with just the right amount of hesitancy and nervousness. And absolutely no clues as to where it had been filmed. The part where Jason had had to hold up his arm to show his SIN was particularly effective, and wearing my expensive white shirt really added to the idea that he was a business executive.

I encrypted the movie and uploaded it into my secure virtual server in the cloud, then told Greg to run down to the river and throw the camera and tripod in - I didn't want there to be any possibility of it being traced back to me, and I suspect camera makers secretly encode all sorts of invisible "watermarks" to assist police in tracing the origin of things.

A previous arrangement to a dinner with senior work colleagues and their wives took me out then - tedious for me, and somewhat awkward for them I suppose as the table seating is all wrong when there's couples, plus one. The wives didn't know what to say to me, understanding that chattering about girlfriends might be unfortunate. But the food was excellent as you'd expect with two Michelin stars (I'd managed to convince all the others in the firm over my time there that paying the even higher prices for three stars really is not good value for money!) And we had excellent Krug as an aperitif, and a stunning Chateau Palmer. I was glad it was not me picking up the bill - although I suspected it would be charged to the company so some part of it would come out of my next bonus!

There was that general air of tension when I got back, and when I was in bed and ordered Greg to come in and suck my cock, he did it with even worse humour than he usually did. And all through the night there were muffled sounds through the wall, that were not conducive to a good night's sleep.

On Sunday morning therefore faced with the simmering resentment between the two slaves, and of me by both of them, I decided to act. I suppose I could have caned both of them to improve their attitude, but instead called Dave.

"You said it would take a couple of days before you had everything ready for Jason, but could you take him now? There are a few of your `fixes' I want for him, and it occurs to me that you could be getting on with those whilst the paperwork or whatever is sorted out."

"Sure! And it will be good to see you again, anyway. Perhaps we could go out for a beer and a sandwich afterwards...?"

I shuddered at the thought of beer, but I liked Dave, as I've told you, so I agreed.

As we had to transport Jason I broke one of my golden rules and called a minicab. I specified one with a slave driver so he would appreciate what was going on, and when it arrived I had Greg bundle Jason into the boot for the journey.

End Of Part Five

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