Paolo

Zero

The Special-Needs Slaveboy

Chapters 18-20

After being dressed down at the party for Cory, Zero and I sort of settled into a routine at chez-Collins. His days were full, and so were mine. It helped to keep my mind off of how irritated I was with Dr. Collins, and as much as I hated to admit it, some of the boys as well. It seemed like every time I turned around, I was stepping on one of them. I don't know which was worse – the patronizing dressing downs I normally got from Collins, or the far-too-grown-up-sounding ones I got from his slaveboy of a son.

I mean, really now?! This little leather-bedecked-body-pierced-gingery-tattooed nightmare of a child was going to tell ME how to raise my kid?

A good slap to the bare ass, though, seemed to make him happy. I guess he thought I'd taken his sage advice?

I was, however, of two minds on the subject. True, I'd bought a slaveboy (and a special-needs one at that) on a whim. What did I know about slaveboys? Hell, I'd raised Peter, and for me, that had been enough justification in my mind at the time. However, all these people that seemed to want to now run our lives (and all this from a simple doctor's office visit?) were bound and determined to let me know how incompetent I was where it came to owning a slave. Supposedly, you couldn't raise a slaveboy like you could a free boy. To me, there was still no difference. Zero was my boy now. He deserved anything, I thought, that anyone else did.

Thank God I was on vacation. I don't think I could have handled Marv's input at work right then. As Zero had once said, "Marv's a att-hoe!"

Add to that the fact that we still couldn't go home. I was beginning to think that Mark and his department might be having some say in that. I suspected just a bit of corruption there, as Mark stopped by every night to check on Cory and play with the boys.

So, with Zero's days filled with physical training and schoolwork and speech therapy, I filled mine with making sure that the new Collins' computer network was operating properly. Once that was done, I set my sights for my accumulated time off of work to study all the mysterious data that had been dumped into the old systems – apparently from Zero's brain scans.

The first problem was, I realized, that I wasn't going to get much peace from the other boys. It was like trying to study for a final exam in a daycare center. The only difference was that these children were dressed in bondage gear and hoping for a quick round of sex before they were counted tardy or put in a timeout! And, of course, I'd been told that such was something that Zero was going to expect. They said he had the heart of a slave, but I was beginning to wonder if I had the heart of a Master.

The problem there was, that I just couldn't bring myself to do it. True, I was attracted to him. I felt that I loved him. But for God's sake, he was a child! Every single time I got worked up, and thought that I might present the idea to him, the idea that I would be raping a baby made me almost ill.

There. Happy now? It's out.

"Master?" Henry's never-breaking soprano voice asked me. "I… I'm s'posed to come see if you want anything, like a drink, sir?"

Poor little Henry. Geeez, you couldn't help but pity and love the kid at the same time. Orphaned at a young age, Henry had been a street kid for a while. Then the authorities had caught him, enslaved him for being homeless and unadopted in time (in accordance with one of those insane population control laws), and botched his mandatory sterilization. The poor kid had developed a raging infection, almost died of it, and ended up having to be castrated by Dr. Collins in order to save his life, in case you've forgotten. The poor little guy just had a tiny acorn of a tightly circumcised penis, hidden and kept off limits by a small gold cap of sorts, which seemed to be held on by a small padlock through a Prince Albert piercing. There was no way to fit a customary non-belt style chastity device on him, as he had no balls to hold it on. But then again, there was really no point in that. The law said that a castrated slaveboy could not have hormone therapy, so therefore, Henry would never go through puberty. His penis would never grow, only shrink more, until it finally disappeared up into his body. He'd never have erections, never have to shave, and his angelic voice would remain unbroken for life. Capping his penis was sort of redundant, since it would never do him much good anyway.

Collins had told me that one of the side effects of neutering a human male, just as it was with animals, was the tendency for him to become more docile and submissive. Well, that was our Henry to a "T". He really was a sweet kid, and despite being plump with a buzzed haircut, he was downright adorable. What with that round face, creamy complexion, and the shy way he looked at you with his hands behind his back. He was always nervously rubbing one or the other of his feet over the arch of its mate when he awaited your reply. Always looking down at his ever-bare feet too, which couldn't have been more than a size 4, 4.5 at the most. [US 4=3.5 UK or 35.5 EU]

Honestly, I couldn't see how anyone could use this poor child as a sex toy. Then again, maybe that was part of my training? I had to come to grips with the idea that some boys out there really did like it, and wanted it. Henry certainly did, it seemed.

And that Zero was one of them, they said.

Good grief, those blowjobs he gave… well, they were one thing. Full-blown sexual relations were another. It made me think about Collins. How could anyone fuck his own son?

"Henry, why don't you fetch us an iced tea with lemon, and whatever else you want?" I palmed my face. Millions of mega-quads of data staring me in the face, and all of it enormous 'scrap' files that the computer didn't recognize. For the last twelve hours, I'd had my work laptop working on breaking the encryption codes, in hopes that some of the data would come together and form a recognizable file format. So far, no luck.

"Yes, sir," Henry said softly, scratching at his face, where his feeding tube was taped to his cheek. I could see that the boy had already gained back the weight he'd lost during his sojourn with the Collins family. I felt sorry for him all over again, knowing that the poor kid didn't like being 'the fat kid'. However, his Master wanted him plump, and so Henry got tube-fed when he wouldn't eat.

One other side effect of neutered males, which I'd learned from my nephew Peter's one dog some years ago, was that they were also very needy of affection. I've said before that I did a little happy dance with Rocky had finally died, but to be totally honest, I'd missed those pleading eyes and that thumping tail, always needing to be petted or scratched somewhere. Poor little neutered Henry wasn't that different. He'd sobbed inconsolably for hours when his Master had left him here again, even though the boy would be the first one to tell you that Sebbie's place was the coolest place in the world to stay. Separation anxiety was another thing, and Rocky would howl his heart out when we left him home. As he came back with our drinks, Henry looked like he was ready to cry again.

Then again, Henry always looked as if he might burst into tears at any given time.

'Why not?' I told myself, seeing that Henry had gotten himself a fizzy drink [soda]. I guess my orders carried some weight with the boys, too – even if I were only a Master-in-training?

I patted my leg, and Henry obediently climbed up on my lap, almost purring like a cat!

"What do you know about encrypted files, Henry?" I asked him, rubbing his shoulders.

"Not much, sir," Henry replied, sipping his drink, and shifting himself a bit towards my knee.

"Henry, are you trying to manipulate your new plug?" I asked him pointedly. He blushed and nodded. As his hands were in front of him, bound with only 6" [15 cm] of light chain, there was no way he could reach around behind himself to touch it. Maybe if he'd been a bit slimmer, or his limbs had grown a bit more out of proportion, as castrated boys are prone to have, he could have reached it. "Owww!" I felt something, and Henry jumped. "Henry, is there an attachment on that thing?"

"Not that I know of, sir?" he answered.

"Well something poked me," I told him.

"Wish something would poke me," he snickered. "Thanks for permission to get a drink, Master," he added, "I just hope I don't have to pee before it's allowed! Did you know the pool has a chemical in it that turns dark blue if you pee in the water, sir?"

"I didn't know that," I informed him, "But if you have to pee, you can do it now."

"I better not, sir," Henry shook his head, that tiny bit of fringe they were allowing him to grow just long enough to move a bit. I rubbed his buzzed head; it felt like velvet. He was staring at the screen. "Master, what is all this stuff?" He pointed to the strings of 1's and 0's.

I sighed. "That's the mystery, my boy. That's data that the computer was overwhelmed with when it scanned Zero's brain. We don't know what it is, how it got in there, or what to do with it."

"Is it from the chip in his brain, sir?" Henry asked.

"Yes, it is."

"Well, it probably needs an access code, then, sir," Henry pointed out, reminding me with that comment of how they'd said something about him like, "He's not the brightest crayon in the box."

"That's what my laptop is trying to decode," I told him.

"It'd have to be easy, for Zero to remember it," Henry thought aloud. It looked like it hurt, too.

"Henry, what is this thing with your plug?" I asked him again. "Stand up and bend over, let me have a proper look at it. If it's broken, it could cut you."

Henry did that, and as I spread his ample buttocks, I could see that there was a small red knob on the phalange of his plug. I was familiar with this style plug, although it was different from Zero's. This one had two phalanges, one that was inside the boy's rectum, and would make it impossible for him to work it back out. There were four symbols: an "O", 3 waves, a lightning bolt, and a lightning bolt through 3 waves. I turned the small knob to the 3-waves icon.

Henry stiffened at once, and I could hear a low hum. His plug was now vibrating!

"Oh oh oh!" He squeaked. "I didn't know it did that! It's a new one!"

I figured they'd blindfolded him when they'd put it in him, not bothering to tell him, since he couldn't reach it to activate it anyway. The boy looked like he was enjoying it, so I cuddled up with him again to think about the conundrum of the "Zero Data Dump."

"Feel good?" I asked him.

"Oh, yes sir!" He gasped. "That must be the surprise Daddy said he left for me! Thank you for finding it, Master!"

"You love him very much, don't you?" I asked the boy, not so much for his benefit, but for mine. I had to understand this Master/slave relationship, and the ever-needy Henry seemed like the perfect one to interview.

"Yes, sir," he answered. "I miss him when he goes away."

Damn, he was so cute… I kissed his ear. I remembered another small boy who used to fall asleep in my lap in front of the television. He used to love that. "He'll be back," I assured him. "He'd be a fool to not come back after you, you know!"

"Th-thanks," Henry hiccoughed, clearly enjoying his new toy that he couldn't access himself.

"Henry, I want you to be honest with me, son. Did you love your Daddy at first, when you first went to live with him?"

God, how was he supposed to answer that stupid question? And why had I asked it?

Simple: I was having doubts as to if Zero loved me as much as I loved him. You can thank Collins for implanting that niggling little doubt in my mind.

"No, sir," Henry sighed. "I w-wuz scared of him, Master. I… I hated him at first," he sniffled. Then he shivered and moaned again. I wondered if he were having an orgasm of some kind? Could Henry even have an orgasm? Or did he just like the stimulation that would eventually lead to nowhere?

"Did he have to hurt you, Henry?" I asked. "Did he try and break you in any way?" I felt the need to explain myself as the boy turned his head to face me. He looked puzzled.

"My daddy never hurts me," Henry protested. "Not EVER! He loves me! I… I was the one what hurt him, at first! I… I t-told him I… I h-h-hated him!" The boy started to cry. I switched his vibrating plug off and pulled him into a hug. I let him cry it out, rubbing his bare back and nuzzling his neck, being careful of his leather "work" collar.

When he'd calmed down a bit, he went on.

"He always t-told me, when I said I hated him, 'But I love you, child.' Then he'd leave me alone. Sometimes he'd put me in a quiet room, other times he'd leave me alone in my room and just tell me to think about it. Then he'd bring me food, you know, I didn't get much food on the streets, so I liked that. I wouldn't have fed me," he added.

"Was that why you stopped hating him?" I asked.

"No," Henry shook his head, and I noticed he wasn't 'sir-ing' me. "He took care of me. He took me to the doctor when I got bad sick. He stayed with me, and I… I don't like being… being… alone," Henry confessed. "I'm afraid of being by myself."

So Cabot had played on Henry's fears, then, to win him over?

There was more to it than that, though.

"Henry, did someone else hurt you when you were on the streets?" I asked, wondering just what kind of abuse my Zero must have suffered to have signs of such traumatic past injuries, long since healed up.

He nodded.

"Daddy promised he'd never hurt me," Henry went on. "He promised that Dr. Collins would never hurt me, but he… I know he… he saved my life." He paused.

"Henry, the doctor told me about some of the things he feels very strongly about. He hates to hurt a person, especially a boy, did you know? He turns down a lot of money that he could make from Masters who want to hurt their slaves. Did you know he cried the night he had to castrate you?"

OK, I might have been exaggerating, but it looked like the kid needed it. Jesus, how traumatic could it have been to wake up and find out that you'd been neutered like a stray dog?!

Henry nodded. "Sebbie says his daddy hates to hurt anyone," he agreed. "Doctor Collins told us all once that his Master was a doctor, too, and that they hurt him sometimes when he was a boy."

"I think that sometimes, on purpose or not, we all hurt the ones we love, my boy," I told him. "Whether we mean to, or not."

"I was afraid I'd disappoint my daddy," Henry admitted, "You know, at first, I thought all he wanted to do was hurt me, like everybody else did, but he didn't. Then I was scared I'd screw up, and he'd sell me or something."

That gave me pause. After all he'd been through, Henry had been afraid of being a disappointment to a man that wanted to use him for sex? A boy whose entire world of normality had been taken away from him, and he was afraid of disappointing someone who might be labeled his 'new abuser'? Was I now a 'new abuser' to Zero, then? I was now even more confused.

"Zero's lucky he's your boy," Henry agreed. "You'll never let anyone hurt him again, will you?"

"No, Henry, Zero will never be harmed so long as he's my boy. Not again. I just wish he could tell me who did all this to him. And why."

"He will, someday, Master Don," Henry smiled again, and I could see why any potential Master of this child would have been so infinitely patient with him. Plump or not, Henry was such a beautiful boy. "He's learning to talk more, and even write, every day."

"You boys are the best thing for him," I assured him. "All he talks about is you lot, you know."

"All's he talks about to us is YOU, 'Uncle-this and Uncle-that'!" Henry laughed. Then he turned serious again, his mood shifting so suddenly. "He loved you since the night you fixed his skinned up knee, Un-I mean, Master." He finally remembered his place, but I didn't mind. Still, there were my own lessons to be learned – despite how grateful I was to hear Henry say this.

"Henry, you were very informal without permission, boy," I admonished him. "Don't you think you messed up?"

Henry looked shocked. "I did?!" He squeaked. "Oh, shit!" Then he covered his mouth, eyes wide. He was so damn cute!

"Well, before we think about punishment, boy, let me thank you for this chat. You've been very helpful to me, Henry." That only confused him more, poor kid. "Now, I think you should bend over!"

Henry sighed, but he got up and did that. "Yes, sir." He groaned. "Daddy spanks me with his bare hand when I'm bad, sir," He offered helpfully.

I turned his plug's red knob to the lightning bolt instead.

Henry began to tremble all over at once. His eyes grew even wider, and his knees buckled. He went down on them, making strangled little sounds and looking as if he might be on the verge of a slight seizure! Then he collapsed, tightening his buttocks and humping at the air in futility. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the ceiling.

"It – it – it's electric!" he yelled out. "Oh oh oh!" he kept whimpering, thrashing about on the floor and struggling with his bound hands to reach his backside. Of course, that was impossible for him. If the plug were activated, there would be no way he could escape it.

I turned the knob to the wave/lightning bolt symbol.

Henry went spastic!

I managed to pick up the words "It's gonna make me cum!" as I watched him thrash about on the floor in what looked like ecstasy combined with agony.

I suppose it did, although there was no leakage from Henry's little penis-cap-trap. As a prepubescent eunuch, there was no way he could make any fluids to expel. Still, it looked as if his plump, hormone-deprived body were trying its best to do just that.

I let him enjoy it for about ten minutes, until I began to worry if he might have a heart attack or something. Then I turned it off.

"Don't you dare tell the others about that, boy!" I warned him. "You try and get one of them to switch it on for you, and I'll take it and hide it!"

"OH NO SIR!" Henry assured me, when he could speak again.

"How was it?"

"Best… thing… ever…" he panted, getting unsteadily to his feet. "Thank God I have quiet room time next hour, sir," he nodded groggily. I helped him along to the lift [elevator]. Just before it opened (yes, he was supposed to take the stairs, I know!), he hugged me as best he could, which was just a snuggle, really. "I love you, Uncle," he bid me farewell, with a cheeky grin.

"Some punishment," I snorted, as I went back to my work – or lack thereof.

Of course, I was interrupted again, and I think there was a pattern to it. Just when I'd get going, and my drink would run out, a boy would show up offering to be of service. It was a good thing that I could pee whenever I wanted to! For the life of me, I couldn't see how a boy could be trained to hold it for so long! Then again, Zero hadn't had any more accidents, either. That in itself was astounding.

I imagine the threat of being catheterized for two weeks as punishment for accidents were incentive enough, though.

This time it was Bin, or Cyborg, as he preferred to be called. Now that his artificial hand was repaired again, the little Filipino slaveboy was back to his usual chipper self. Despite all his hardships, he certainly was a happy fellow. I entertained the notion of doing a stint as a slaveboy to a good master, in lieu of antidepressant drugs for depressed boys. Was that part of Zero's turnabout, I wondered? I shuddered at the thought of some pervert having gotten hold of him…

"Hello, sir," Cyborg greeted me. He was dressed in the usual black workout gear with short chains, just like Henry had been. "Thanks for getting me out of quiet room, time, sir! Would you like anything?"

"How about some quiet for me?" I smirked at him.

"I can be really quiet, sir!" He assured me, his artificial foot making an odd sound on the hardwood floor. "You'll hardly even know I'm here, Master! Would you like me to bring you anything, sir?"

"An aspirin?" I joked.

"Yes, sir!" He snapped to and ran, before I could stop him. TUNK-TUNK-TUNK! And away he went. The boy sure could move, despite not having a complete leg. He was back in a few minutes, aspirin in hand with a glass of ice water, and a wide smile on his face. "We did Kung Fu today in physical education class, sir!" He informed me. "Talk about hurt! Did you know Zero can throw Mason, sir?" Cyborg asked.

"And how is Zero?" I asked, taking the aspirin, on second thought. God, they were teaching my child how to beat up other people? I saw so little of him, and he went to sleep so fast in his own bed, that we hadn't much time to talk lately.

"Fine, sir!" the boy answered, but he didn't stop there. I wondered just what his lung capacity was, as it seemed that he didn't breathe when he chattered: 'Zero did this, Mason did that, Sebbie did this, you should have seen it, sir, and Cory… '

When he was finally done, he just stood there nodding and smiling.

"Come here, Cyborg," I ordered him, not really taking to the feel of giving orders yet. I pulled him onto my lap, as I had Henry.

"What's all this, sir?" he asked, as I was obliged to explain the computer data again.

"Well, it'd have to be pretty easy codes, for Zero to remember it, sir," Cyborg advised.

What was it with this lot!? Were they all trying out to be the new Captain Obvious?

"Can I, sir?" Cyborg asked, clicking his robotic thumb against his forefinger. The kid might have thought it was cool, but I wished they'd cover his prosthetics with synthetic skin or something. A glove, at least? Creepy…

"Sure," I nodded.

"Computer, access code 'Kabila-0'," Cyborg told it, touching the ENTER key with a robotic finger.

The screen went blank, then filled with an animated wallpaper. It looked like a desert oasis, with sparkling water in the sun, an idyllic grove of palms and flowers, all bordered by a tall stone wall beneath a cloudless blue sky.

But that was all it did.

"How did you know that?" I asked him in surprise.

Cyborg shrugged. "Zero writes that word on all his papers, sir. And his name is Zero, so it made sense to me, Master!"

I felt like an idiot. Like any proud parent, I had Zero's test papers and drawings, all with that word, and those other odd characters, too. Characters of that extinct African language…

Was this some oasis in the desert? I didn't think it likely, since the climate changes had pretty much eliminated most of the Sahara. Sure, there were a few left, but who wanted to live there, other than a few tribes of Bedouins? Given what we knew about Zero, I doubted that there was much genetic engineering business going on out there. Then again, they did train their operatives in those remote locations, and as all the boys told me, Zero 'had some moves'. I looked at the monitor. Was this where Zero had spent his childhood?

But here I was with another opportunity. "Cy, how did you end up with Master Paul?" I asked him.

"He found me, sir?"

I decided to take another risk. "He found you on the streets, and he took you home with him, Cy. Did you know what he was going to do to you when he took you?"

The boy fidgeted a bit. "Well, uhhhm, no, not really, sir," he confessed. "But it was like… what was I supposed to do? I mean, other boys did things for money, you know? Or just for food, or a nice place to sleep. And what could I do, sir?" He held up robotic hand. "Beg all my life, until I died?"

"You don't think he's taking advantage of you, then?" I asked, feeling silly for thinking that a what – seven year old – could answer this question?

"Master, I got a home now!" Cyborg protested. "I get to travel a lot with my daddy, I got a nice bed to sleep in, a roof to keep me dry, no dirt, no bugs, and someone to take care of me! I get to eat every day, and all I have to do is do what he tells me to? How great is that?!" He smiled. "You know, no offense, sir, but sometimes I don't think you Masters are too smart?"

I was taken aback by that last comment!

"Sorry, sir," he apologized. "It just seems like a lot to do, a lot of money to spend, to take care of a boy like me."

Good grief, this kid thought he had it made?

"What about the sex thing?" I had to ask him. "What about the restraints? You're a slave now!"

"I was a slave before, sir," Cyborg explained. "We all were. We just didn't have gear on. When you're an orphan, you're a slave to what you need. So what if I have to wear this?" He showed me his wrist cuffs and chain. "At least I don't have to worry about getting sick, or getting killed, when a guy wants sex just so I can have something to eat, sir." He thought about it some more. "I got someone to take good care of me now, sir. Not somebody who just wants to use me for my disabilities, and take everything away from me that people give me."

A pimp? Some pimp was using this kid to make money? Disgusting…

He was pretty articulate for an imported slave that was so young, I had to admit. I guessed that Master Paul made him study hard.

"So you think you're cheating your daddy out of his money?" I smiled at him.

"Sometimes," Cyborg admitted. "I mean, all I do is eat and sleep and study, and sometimes, you know," He blushed, "Do THAT stuff! And he has to make sure I go the bathroom on time, give me baths, feed me, make sure my enema goes OK, keep my gear right, take me almost everywhere with him, or bring me here. I'm a lotta work, sir!"

"Do you like that stuff, Binoahan?" I used his given name.

"I didn't used to," he admitted. "But it's different now."

"Why is that, son?"

He looked at me as if I were totally daft. "Because it's like this, Master!" He looked dumfounded as he leaned back into my chest and snuggled. "It's nice when somebody loves you, and you know he's not going to just fuck you and dump you, or beat you, maybe without even paying, sir! You wouldn't believe what you have to do to get some new clothes and shoes, even, and now I get everything I want, without even asking! Can you believe it, sir? I mean, I get presents for not even doing anything!" He was smiling again, now.

"Well, clothes aren't a big worry now, are they?" I reminded him.

"Oh, Daddy has permits for some places, where they want slaves dressed," Cyborg explained. "And sometimes," he looked around like he was being sneaky, or someone might hear, "He dresses me up like a free boy and no one even notices!" He grinned, as if this were scandalous news! "We went to Nor-ah-way once (he mispronounced it), and I got wear turtleneck shirts, and coats, and furry boots, and trousers! No one even knew I was a slaveboy!" He snickered. "And there was SNOW!"

Again, I was perplexed at the boy's story. So similar to Henry, Binoahan had been a street kid, a beggar, and a deformed one at that. He must have been a real cash cow for his pimp, I thought. It also told me a lot about Master Paul; he must have spent a fortune to rescue this unfortunate lad, provided that he hadn't just stolen him.

I had this vision of the handicapped boy, sitting naked on a dirty street corner somewhere, probably in the rain, begging for any kind of handout he could get. Maybe standing there with a crutch, looking pathetic. Wondering where his next meal was coming from, afraid that the next man to approach him might do something terrible to him.

I thought about Zero again.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what all had been done to him.

Cyborg was still chattering, I realized. I'd missed most of what he was on about, but he ended it with, "It's a lot of work, taking care of me, sir. Thanks for fixing my hand, again!"

"Thanks for the access code," I replied. The boy got up, bowed, and left. It was quiet room time now, then probably some cleanup time. I wondered who the next one was going to be. I wondered how I hadn't thought to use that code.

"Computer, where are the boys now?" I asked it.

"Cleanup duty, household level," the computer replied.

"Visual," I told it, and I got an image of them in the living room. It figured that Collins would have bugs and cameras all over the place. Hell, he'd probably even recorded my conversations with Henry and Cyborg, but I didn't care. I had nothing to hide, and I really didn't care if he approved of me or not.

Zero was vacuuming, or rather, playing with the vacuum. He was putting his palm over the hose, pulling it off with a POP! sound, and laughing at the red circular ring it left. He also had some puffiness around one eye that promised to be a real shiner by tomorrow morning! "Self defense training," I muttered.

I was being watched. I could feel it. There was a presence in the room now, although I'd heard nothing. It was like a scene from a horror movie, the moment right before the victim gets it, in fact!

"Hello, Mason," I said to the seemingly empty room.

"Hello, Master Don," came the reply in an alto voice that warbled once, clearly struggling through the phase of voice change that all pubescent boys someday face.

"Is it your turn to check up on me, now, Mason?" I asked him.

He cocked his head, spilling those blue-black locks across his hard face. "Sir?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Not that I know of, sir? I was supposed to come and tell you that dinner may be a bit late, there's a problem with the grocer's delivery. That, and Doctor Collins wants you present in Exam 3 for my maintenance this evening, just before bedtime, sir."

"'Maintenance'?" I asked. "What happened to you? You need a new fuel cell, or break a gear?" I joked. He didn't get it, clearly.

"No, sir. Doctor Collins wants you to observe a proper prostate drainage with orgasm denial, sir. His orders were to empty me out twice a week, and make sure I don't climax or ejaculate. He thinks you should learn how this is done, since Zero might need it someday."

"You can tell Doctor Frankenstein that I don't ever intend to do something so cruel to Zero, now, or at any future date," I informed him, giving him what I intended to be a glance.

It was hard not to look him over, though. Of all the boys at 'Collins' Daycare', Mason was the tallest, the oldest, and the most developed. His voice warbled between boyish soprano and sour note alto, and he didn't have any of the baby fat that the other boys had. True, they all worked out and weren't babies, but just given their ages, they looked softer.

Mason was not soft. From his black hair, down past those hard eyes set in a not-so-round face with a serious expression, on down to his broader shoulders and more developed chest, this boy was something to look at. Even at rest, he had budding biceps and pectorals, and his stomach was a six-pack of abs that were just noticeable, but more so when you compared him with Cory or even more contrastier, Henry. On down his slightly longer legs with their round calf muscles, it was clear that Mason was… how to put it? If he were an auto, let's say, it was clear that he was built for speed.

Even though he wore the same plain black work gear that the other boys did, his chastity setup was different. For one, it was larger due to his age and naturally larger genitals. For another, it was a black belt setup that wasn't the small pod or container device worn by all the other boys but for Henry. It also sported larger, shiny chrome padlocks.

Sebbie had once said that you don't even notice the pod or the plug after a while, when you're so used to it. In fact, if they were gone, he said, you missed them. In Mason's case, however, I thought that belt didn't look comfortable at all – especially the back strap that had to constantly remind him that it was locking a plug inside of him. Even though he wasn't wearing the fancier gear now that I'd first seen him in at the party for Cory, there was something different about his gear.

"I don't need anything, thank you, Mason," I told him. He didn't move, other than to relax a bit and stand there at parade rest, his eyes on the wall behind me. It was unsettling. "Mason, is there, ahhh, something different about your, uhm, work gear?"

"Sir?" He didn't look right at me.

"You look different, boy."

"I'm older and taller, and it's much heavier, sir. I'm not a little kid, sir," he answered stiffly.

He didn't seem to waste words, either. Needless to say, this one wasn't going to sit in my lap!

"Yes, you are. You're a very handsome young man, Mason," I complimented him. All right, FINE! Sebbie might have been scary in his own way, but he was little. Mason was a teenager, nearly as tall as a grown man, and his… aura… let's call it, was just downright frightening. It was probably a good idea to stay on his good side.

"Thank you, Master," he said flatly. "What should I tell the Doctor, sir?"

I groaned. I didn't really want to watch yet another procedure. I'd seen enough of them. In fact, it was getting boring.

"Let me get this straight," I said, looking him over again. If it mattered to Mason at all, he didn't show it. "Twice a week, you have to have a procedure done to drain your prostate, without making you ejaculate or have an orgasm?"

Mason nodded.

"And just… ahhh… why?" I wondered.

Mason didn't reply at once. When he did, there was the tiniest waver to his façade. "It gets the juice out of me, so I don't have a wet dream or spontaneous orgasm," the boy explained, "It keeps me empty. When it's over, I'm still horny, and I still want to get off, but I can't, since I'm empty. Even if I could touch my stuff, getting off, or even getting hard, is impossible when you've been drained, sir."

"So it's to make sure you can't become erect, for a bit, or have an orgasm?" I asked, "To deny you any sexual pleasure?"

He nodded again. "And to make me even hornier, sir," Mason added.

"I don't get it," I admitted. "If you're empty, why are you still aroused? I thought that once you got off, or came, you were done? I usually just go to sleep."

"That's because you get off, sir," Mason explained. I had to admit, it wasn't as much fun talking to him as it was the other boys. Mason was all business. "When I have maintenance, it's arousing. But the way they do it to me, you don't get the right kind of stimulation, sir. It's more like pressure on the right part of your prostate, without anything to do with your dick or even your balls. It's not like being fucked, either, sir. There isn't any of that stuff. It's just pressure, it kinda hurts, and the only thing you feel is your juice running out of you like you're peeing. It's like you wanna cum, sir, but you don't. You just… I dunno, sir… leak?"

"It must send very confusing signals to your brain, play hell with your nerves. One part of your system thinks it's time to get off, but then it's like getting into a car with an empty fuel cell? You don't go anywhere, even though you want to?"

"You need to, sir," Mason corrected, and I noticed he shivered just a bit. "But you can't! No matter what you do, even if they fuck you right away, you can't get off, sir."

"That's awful!" I told him bluntly. "And they want me to learn to do this to Zero?"

"You can't do it to Zero yet, sir, because he's prepubescent, or rather, he's so hormone deprived and undeveloped, sir." He looked he wanted to go on. I nodded at him. He turned a bit and winced. There was a bruise on his side. "Your Zero is dangerous, sir. I'm good, you know. I've been training hard since I was like seven, sir, but Zero can get good hits in on me. That's saying something, sir. I think I got a cracked rib! If you ask me, sir, I think Zero's older than you think. He's not a kid, well, he's maybe older than me, Master Don. He's built all wrong, sir."

I noted the change of address, and the point that Mason was making.

"Mason, why do they do this to you?" I had to ask.

He looked like Henry confronted with a math problem.

"Because my Master wants me to do a period of denial, to see what it will do with my behavior, sir," Mason explained. "It's not really punishment, but, I'm his slaveboy, so I don't have any say in it, Master."

"Do you like it?" I had to ask.

Mason looked confused. "I… I don't know, Master Don. I really don't. On one hand, I want to get off so bad! On the other hand, being so wound up and horny all the time, not knowing when or if you will?" He left it hanging.

"And what do you think it's doing to you?" I had to ask. After all, it was hard to imagine being kept in a state of constant need, without the ability to fulfill it.

"I… I'm not really sure, sir. It's frustrating! I want to get off so bad, but I can't!" Mason's voice began to betray his cool veneer. "Every time they do it, you know, you hope that this'll be the time. They'll mess up, you'll cum, you'll shoot, and it'll feel good – but they never mess up, sir. You never get off, and when it's done, you just wanna… cry. Still, you know if you do get off, it'll ruin the other feelings, too!"

I couldn't imagine Mason crying.

"And how does it make you feel, when they do this to you?" I asked.

"I hate them for it, Master Don," Mason admitted. "But, it's like, you know, 'next time', you tell yourself. Maybe next time, I'll have done what they want me to do, and they'll let me get off, for being a good boy."

"So you try and be good?" I persisted.

"Yes, sir."

"Even though you admit you hate them for doing this to you?" I added.

He nodded.

"But you don't even know which feeling you like best?"

He didn't have an answer for that one. Hell, I wasn't sure that I understood his meaning.

"Mason, you've been a slave since you were what, seven?" Again he nodded, looking at the wall. "You're just-turned fourteen now?" Again a nod. "All those years of training? Weren't you sold to Devereaux by your stepfather?" Again, only a nod. But his face wasn't as hard as before. "You didn't like that, did you?"

"NO, sir," he said coldly.

"I hear you had a bad time of it? Lots of punishment? Fighting back? Hard to control?" I dug in, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but to satisfy my own deep need to know. What pleasure did they get out of tormenting this boy by keeping him in orgasm denial?

But like Mason, longing to orgasm and ejaculate, would I ever really know? Or would I just have to keep seeking, waiting, as he did, for something that might never come? Something that I wasn't even sure that I wanted, again, like Mason?

"Yes, Master Don, I was a pretty bad boy," he admitted. "My Master punished me a lot. Sometimes, pretty bad." It was clear that he wanted to say more, from the look on his face.

"Mason, speak freely. It's very important that I understand you boys. Please?"

He cocked his head. I guess he wasn't used to hearing that word? I was sure I'd hear about it, though. I guess I was supposed to just order him "Spill it!" or something like that.

"Really?" He asked, like he thought I was going to trick him.

"Really, son. I insist!" I encouraged him. After all, I really wanted to hear this.

"I wasn't like Cyborg or Henry, Master," Mason declared, his voice sounding defiant, yet comically cracking now and then. "I wasn't rescued like they were, so I didn't have any reason to be grateful to my Master. I wasn't created and raised to be a slave like Sebbie, either, so it's not how I was raised. I wasn't made a slave early enough, like Boy or Tahj, to just adapt to it and think it's normal. They don't know any other way of life, but I do!" Mason explained, and it was clear that something, at least on the exterior, was about to crack.

"And that nutcase, Cory?! He just walks into this life like it's a big game? He's got NO clue, sir! It's like one day, my whole world just ended!" He suddenly exclaimed, "I had a home, and a family! One day, my mom was taking me to school, I was playing with my friends, doing what I wanted, and then POW! Suddenly she's gone, I'm naked, chained up, and being sold to some stranger who wants me to suck his dick, and train me so he can fuck me! WHAT THE HELL DID THEY EXPECT?!" Mason then yelled, raising his arms, like he was going to wave them around. "Hell, I can't even MOVE freely anymore! I haven't even seen my dick in seven years, much less touched it! I'm so damn horny, and it hurts to get hard in this thing!" He smacked the front of his leather-clad pod. "The only way I can get off is if my Master fucks me, and now I can't even have that! If they don't drain me, they shoot my prostate full of something to make it numb, so I can't feel anything! I lose control of my bladder, too, and I pee all over everything unless they plug my dick!"

"Sounds pretty harsh," I conceded.

"All they ever did was punish me, Master Don," Mason admitted sadly, and I was surprised to see his shoulders slump. It was as if talking about it to me was taking a lot out of him. "I didn't wanna be a slave. I was seven! I didn't understand it! To me, all they wanted to do was hurt me! I just wanted to go home! The sex stuff was gross, and it wasn't funny anymore, you know, like kids think it's funny to talk about it without knowing what it is?"

I nodded, beginning to regret my telling him to speak freely. Then again, was it really healthy for Mason to keep all that bottled up? God, what was going on Zero's head, I wondered, that he wasn't yet capable of telling me?

"Then I found out what it was all about, Master Don," Mason went on, his voice much softer and lower now. "And I didn't like it. I was always restrained, I got an enema every night, a plug in me that hurt and I couldn't get it out, and all these cuffs and chains and chastity things! I thought they'd get rid of me, if I fought them, but they just punished me more. It was like getting raped every night."

"You want to tell me about some of it?" I asked him.

"Not really, Master Don," he admitted. "Some of it was pretty bad." He looked at me then, right at me, and he was crying. "Please don't do that to Zero, sir," he added in a whisper.

"Why not?" I asked, and I admit, I was provoking him. I had to know what he thought about Zero. Call it my being protective.

"Because he's a good kid, sir!" Mason sniffled. "He… he just loves everybody, don't you see that? He's so… I dunno, he's kind of a… dork? You know? Like he doesn't know anything, like how people really are?"

"You think he's an innocent?" I chuckled. "What about the licking he just gave you in karate class?"

Mason rubbed his side and sort of grinned. "Yeah, that too, Master Don!" He thought about it some more, and I gave him time. "I try to be good now, sir, I really do. So why do they still treat me like a wild animal, or some kind of trophy? I mean, I'm not like the other boys, but I like them! I'm not gonna hurt them, or any of the Masters now!"

"But you wanted to, at one time?"

"Yeah," he agreed, "But what's the point now? I got all the tattoos, I'm chipped, collared, barcoded, I'm a slave, and I'll be one for the rest of my life."

"Maybe not," I tried to console him. "Doctor Collins probably thought the same thing, you know. He was raised from the age of four as a slaveboy."

"I don't think I can go another eight years, maybe more, 'til I'm through college," Mason admitted. "Sometimes I think I'm losin' my mind now, Master Don."

"Mason, come here," I told him, and he obeyed me, probably out of conditioning. But wasn't that what they'd done to him? Condition him? Break him into submission? Make him a good little slaveboy, when that was not his nature? I hugged him and kissed his forehead, and that was all. Yes, he was erotic! Very erotic, and my inhibitions certainly seemed to subside, looking at the more mature boy. If his current appearance was any sign, Mason was certainly going to be a handsome young man that would break a lot of hearts – or at least – cause a lot of lust! "Thank you for sharing all that with me, son," I added.

Mason started to cry. I held him, but it wasn't like holding Henry. For one thing, I had to stand up. In fact, it made me feel bad for him, more so than I did for the other two. As Mason had said, he wasn't rescued. He didn't feel like he was better off. In effect, at least to him, it must have seemed like a rapist had kidnapped him. All traces of that Joe Cool exterior of his disappeared as he cried on my shoulder. But no, it wasn't crying.

Mason wept.

When he was done, he looked ashamed of himself.

"Thank you, Master Don," he mumbled. "So, are you gonna watch tonight?"

"Do you want me to, son?" I asked in reply.

"I'd feel better about it if you did, Master," he nodded. "Please?"

"If you say so," I promised him. "Besides, this time might be different?"

He laughed in sarcasm, and got up to go. On the way out, he met Cory coming in. They sort high-fived one another, but with their wrist chains, it was more of a high-ten, slapping both hands.

"Dude! You been cryin'?!" Cory gasped.

"I think Zero cracked a rib," Mason explained.

"Damn, man, you better get Doc to scan that!" Cory advised. "Sebbie says if you're done here, they need your help to get dinner started. The stuff finally showed up."

"OK," Mason shrugged, and off he went. He gave me one fleeting backward glance.

"Hey, Don! I mean, Master Don!" Cory greeted me. After all, I'd known Cory as the boy next door since he was very small. It wasn't like we were strangers, and I was sure that Cory was learning just as much as I was.

One thing he was still learning was walking with a plug up his butt! He stepped gingerly, and he paid close attention to his ankle chain. I guess it was his turn to get underfoot now? Other than a screensaver, thanks to Cyborg, I'd made NO progress on my work.

"How are you, Cory?" I asked, as he trotted over and sat on the floor next to my chair, looking up like an expectant puppy.

"Tired, sir! This schedule of Doctor Collins' is worse than mowing both yards in one day!"

"So, are they sending you guys down one at a time to spy on me?"

"Huh?!" Cory gasped.

The thing with Cory was that you could always tell when he was lying: his ears turned really pink! They didn't this time. However, he did have a silly look on his face.

"No, sir!" Cory repeated, looking at the screen. "Say, tha's cool! What is it?"

"Something that came out of Zero's head," I answered him. "Cyborg told it a code."

"'Kabila'?" Cory asked, nodding. "Yeah, I think Zero thinks it's his name or something, sir?"

"It could be," I agreed. "Maybe he remembered it?"

"Maybe it was stored on his chip, and not in his brain?" Cory suggested, forgetting his 'sir's'.

I started at that. It was theoretically possible. After all, the firmware on a chip like the one that ran Cyborg's artificial limbs wasn't known to his organic brain, although the two communicated to run the hand and foot. And as for Zero's abilities with computers and other electronic devices? Was it possible that the chip was programmed to respond to certain commands, if the need were great enough? Was it the chip that was responsible for Zero's now learning new things so quickly?

"Cory, you're a genius," I told him, and Cory laughed. "So what's new with you? You boys have been so busy in school, working out, cleaning, that we never see you much anymore, unless you just pop in like now! What have you been up to?"

"That," Cory nodded. "Being busy! Sebbie's like a crazy drill sergeant, or something, you know!"

"How's your daddy?" I asked. I knew that Mark had been in and out, hadn't found out much about my house either, but we didn't really have time to see one another and chat.

Cory looked around and then got up on my lap to whisper, "He did it to me last night, you know!"

"Did what?" I teased him.

Cory looked shocked. "You know, THAT! He put it IN me!"

"So you were finally ready for it, huh?"

"Sebbie and me kinda sneaked one of his other plugs, you know, and kinda got me ready faster than they planned! I had to beg Daddy to do it, but he did it!"

"And how was it?" I had to ask.

Cory looked just plain silly. "It hurt at first, Don, I mean, Master Don! But once he got it in me, and I got used to it, then he started fu-…"

"I think I get it, Cory!" I interrupted him. "So it felt pretty good after that?"

"It was good, like, after a while? Does that make sense?" Cory asked. "'cause I wanted to cry at first, it hurt!"

"I think that's how it's supposed to work, Cory, yes," I assured him.

"You did it to Zero yet, sir?" He finally remembered to say 'sir'.

"No, not yet, not that it's any of your business, Cory," I assured him. "How do feel about being a slave now, Cory? Now that you're being fucked, made to pleasure a Master, and not having any say about anything?"

"I like it, that my new daddy will take care of me," Cory replied, nodding. "It's not like my real dad ever did, Don," he slipped up again, but after all those years of familiarity, it was excusable. At least, I thought so; Collins wouldn't, but I did. So there!

"You like it, being touched, having sex, don't you?" I asked. "You always were a loveable kid, Cory." I gave him a squeeze. "But what about this?" I tapped his pod.

Cory's eyes got wide. "I dunno, but if Daddy says 'wear it', I will! He says I can have all kinds of fun with it on, anyway!"

I thought about Mason. "But what if you want to, say, jack off later on? You can't, you know?"

"I'm not allowed, sir," Cory replied. "When you're a good slaveboy, you do what your Master says! You be good, and you get treated good! Be bad, and you get punished! Besides, I'm too little to jack off."

"And have you had to be punished yet, Cory?" I had to ask.

"NO, sir!" Cory snapped, crossing his legs. "I don't wanna get spanked!"

"You have to pee, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah, but it's not time, sir!" Cory responded, "And I don't want a catheter put in me!"

"You've never had one, so how do you know it's bad?" I asked.

"Sebbie says it sucks," Cory answered. "He says it makes you feel like you have to pee all the time, but you can't!"

I laughed. "So things are going well with you and Mark? That's good to hear, Cory," I kissed his ear. "I see the tattoos are healing well?" I touched the circled "C" on his arm, the © emblem that looked like the copyright seal. It was like the "S" on Sebbie, the "T" on Tahj, or Mason's "M".

"So, no regrets on giving yourself to Master Mark?"

"Oh, NO sir!" Cory shook his head. Such a contrast.

By that time, we were being called for dinner. Sebbie was running the kitchen like a master chef, but Doc Collins was nowhere to be seen.

"He's got a skateboarder with a busted collarbone, sir," Sebbie explained. "Splattered himself right on our doorstep, sir. He knows when dinner is, and if he's late, he's late, sir!"

I was taken aback!

I was also sitting at the table all by myself. "This is ridiculous, boys! Get up here and sit at table like civilized human beings!" I ordered them. Given no choice, they nervously did that.

"You're going to get us in trouble, sir," Sebbie warned me.

"No I'm not," I disagreed.

"Yes, you are, sir," Sebbie argued, as Henry picked at his steamed asparagus. "Eat that!" Sebbie barked at him, "Or I'll puree it and shoot it down your nose tube!"

"You snap at him again, and I'll spank you!" I warned him.

"Promise?" Sebbie grinned.

There was just no winning with this kid. Collins had trained him too well.

We were halfway through dinner when the good Doctor arrived. He paused behind my chair. The boys all froze, except for Zero.

"What's all this?" Collins asked.

"I don't like dining alone, Doctor," I informed him, "So I ordered them to sit at table. They argued. I won. Now, let's get dinner eaten, dishes done, get Mason drained out, because I want to spend some time with my boy tonight! This schedule of training of yours is ridiculous!"

"Congratulations, Don, you get a gold star!" Collins smiled. "Take charge, man! Bark some orders! Have your way!"

"Oh, shut up," I growled at him.

Sebbie went and got his plate, and Collins pulled him onto his lap. "You were sitting at table with him?" He asked the boy.

Sebbie shrugged. "I told him, Master, but he said to sit in a chair, so we did."

"Very good, son," Collins kissed his ear.

God, I was confused.

"Well, dinner was late, I hardly ever see Zero anymore, bedtime is at half-nine, and I've been informed that I have a class tonight?" I told Collins. "So you'll excuse my being a bit cranky, I'm sure? And where's that cop, anyway? I'd like to go home at some point in the future!"

"Was he this crabby all day?" Collins asked the boys.

"No, sir," they all replied.

Collins looked at each of the boys. Then he settled on Zero. "Are you having fun here, Zero?" He asked him.

"Yesh, Doctor sir," Zero nodded and smiled.

"Don, why don't you save some time and money and just move into the vacant suite a few floors down? I believe it's right next door to… what's his name again, Sebbie?"

"Raul Puente, Daddy," Sebbie supplied. "The Pittmanns moved out last week, remember. It's a very nice flat, sir," he told me. "I'm sure we can break the wall and expose the old dumbwaiter system, so Zero won't have to go outside to get back up here," the ginger assured us.

"Uncle, can we?" Zero said clearly, those pleading eyes staring at me.

"Why do I feel like I'm being set up?" I asked them.

After dinner and the dishes were done, the boys had some free time. They all sat quietly on the floor, watching a movie, while I held Zero next to me. Had he gotten bigger? I thought surely that he had. I wasn't that interested in the science fiction movie, so I just watched the boys and thought about the conversations we'd had that day.

I couldn't help but glance at Mason, who would nervously glance at the clock now and then. Cory, Henry and Cyborg: boys who all loved their Masters. Sebbie – the enigma. And then there was Mason: the one who seemed to hate his Master.

Collins let them go until half-nine, in violation of his schedule, then he shut the television off and ordered the boys to the bathroom for their nightly enemas and baths. "You're in charge, Sebastian," he told his son. "I'll be along to tuck you in when we're done with Mason." He handed him a key. "Put the work gear up, you can clean it tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Sebbie agreed.

"And don't forget to hook up Henry's overnight infusion," Collins told him. "You'll find it in the refrigerator, use the 3.5k calorie bag."

"Yes, sir," Sebbie repeated. Henry sighed.

"What is it now, Henry?" Collins sighed.

"Why do I have to eat the stuff I don't like, sir, and have the good cream stuff pumped in my tube, Master?"

"Because it's more fun that way," Collins replied with a smirk. God, I wanted to slap him!

"Zero, you wait in my room for me when you're done," I told him, which got Collins to raise his eyebrows. Mason followed us on out, and down to Exam 3, never looking up.

Collins ordered him to take a quick shower and pee, once he'd stripped the boy down to his belt. Then, surprisingly, he undid the padlocks and removed it too. The poor boy was wearing a stainless steel pod on his genitals under it! For the size of it, Mason must have been growing pretty well, not that he would even know this, of course.

When he was done with his shower, Collins attached a hose to his vented plug and had him lay on a small bench. I figured that this exam room had been set up just for this purpose. Once Mason had had his enema and expelled the rinse after ten minutes, he was ordered to the exam table. The size of his plug, I thought, was large enough to make me wonder how he could tolerate it. Compared to Zero's, it was huge! I wondered what the size of his Master's cock must be?

The table was somewhat high, so that Collins wouldn't have to bend over. Mason knelt on all fours, his wrists and ankles secured by padded straps to the table. A padded whiplash collar was then put around his neck, connected to a chain that went up and over the extendable arm at the end of the table. As Collins adjusted it, Mason's head was raised up so that he couldn't bow it. It didn't really matter, because Collins then blindfolded him.

"What we're going to do, Don, is drain his prostate. We have to be careful, though, so that he doesn't climax or ejaculate."

"And the point is?" I asked him.

"To keep him incapable of accidental orgasm or ejaculation, which can be mutually exclusive, in some cases," Collins explained. "However, we have to keep him empty at his phase of development to achieve this result. That, and orgasm denial over time is a useful tool for behaviour modification."

"I see," I nodded. "Seems cruel to me."

Collins then put a ball gag in the helpless boy's mouth. "It's something of a paradox, Don. You see, men and boys can become addicted to orgasm, to sexual release. Aren't we all, really? Don't you remember how it was when you first learned to wank?"

I nodded. Of course, he was right. Once a boy discovers that his favorite toy is attached between his legs, and is good for more than just peeing, that's that! Peter certainly had!

"Well, having been a slave since he was seven, Mason's never had a penis-orgasm, you see. Of course, he's had plenty of prostate orgasms, which can be repeatedly induced in a prepubescent boy. In Mason's case, though, with full Tanner Stage development taking place normally, that can be more difficult. Usually, the pubescent, or adult male, can only do it once in a day or so, maybe twice. However, when the patient is totally empty, his body thinks it's been sexually fulfilled. It hasn't, though, so the system gets confused. This creates new sensations, which can also be addictive. In essence, our Mason here is addicted to two things: prostate orgasm, and orgasm denial. He cannot have one with the other, but the decision on which to have is the paradox. 'Do I want to cum?' or 'Do I want the frustration and anticipation'?"

"It's like a perverse chicken-and-the-egg puzzle, then?" I asked. "You're saying that a boy can enjoy both? Being denied, or getting off? One is as good as the other?"

"Precisely!" Collins nodded and smiled, donning a rubber glove. He lubed it up, then began lubing Mason's anus. Then he removed the chastity pod. "Don't comment on it, Don," he warned me. "We don't want the boy to know what he's got."

Mason whimpered into his gag, but he didn't move.

"So he has no idea what his own genitals look like?" I had to ask.

"None. Neither does Sebbie. So, does our boy here cum – or not? Which addiction do we satisfy this time?" Collins asked, as Mason's freed penis grew hard. It was obvious that he'd had his body hair waxed off, and he was a good 6" [15 cm] hard, with a nice girth. It seemed a shame to hide such a nice cock from its owner. As the head swelled, growing more dark and even purple, I could see that Mason had no frenum whatsoever, and his circumcision was very tight. I figured it probably hurt him to get hard, he was cut so tightly. His balls drew up, too, the skin pulling up the shaft of his penis to compensate. His ample balls, probably full to bursting, pulled up tight and almost into his inguinal canals.

"You're telling me that he enjoys this?" I had to ask.

Collins handed me a spray bottle. "Of course, Don! Use that on his package, it's a powerful topical anesthetic. We don't any accidental genital stimulation." He then inserted a finger into Mason's rectum. When he looked at his work, I sprayed the stuff in the other direction!

The boy whimpered again.

"Twice a week, every week," Collins reminded me, as the wax paper covering the table crinkled a bit as Mason adjusted his knees. Collins tickled his bare foot with his free hand. Mason strained at his restraints and squealed into his gag. "He's such a good boy now, Don. But my, my, you should have seen him when he was eight or nine! What a hellion!"

"And don't you think he had a right to be?" I persisted.

"No?" Collins replied. "He's a slave. He had to learn."

If I'd had my gun, so help me God, I'd have shot him!

As Collins worked in a second finger, a drop of precum formed up on Mason's throbbing penis. It grew quite large as he worked on the boy, who trembled. Collins watched it, then he moved his wrist. I guess that he was pinching the boy's prostate. Then he stopped. Mason flinched, and a glob of cum dripped out of him and onto the paper. Collins felt his balls, played with them a bit, then began working a third finger into him.

I could tell by the way he acted, the arch of his back, that Mason had felt that. I was quite pleased with myself.

All the while, Mason strained and squirmed and groaned. When he would begin to shiver, Collins would stop his actions. Another glob would be released. From his whimpering, I honestly could not tell if Mason were suffering from this, or enjoying it.

After the fourth glob, somewhat smaller, Collins shook his head. "Well, that's four. Probably no chance he'll climax now. Surely no chance that he'll shoot. There's not enough left to shoot!" Collins continued with his work, reaching around with his other hand to squeeze the boy's penis and force out what was in it. I could see that Mason was trying to contain himself, as he could feel it. I wondered how long it had been since his penis had had any stimulation other than pain? The next glob was smaller, and the next, quite small. After another ten minutes of squeezing and rubbing, with the helpless boy now whining, the flow stopped altogether.

There was a sizeable puddle under him on the paper.

"No climax for you tonight, my boy," Collins reminded him. "You see, Don? Did you hear him? He enjoyed it!"

I snorted. I didn't see anything funny or therapeutic about it.

"Boys his age make a LOT of cum," Collins replied. "I've packaged probably several liters of it," he joked. "I think we'll let Mason clean this mess up," he added. "Waste not, want not, you know!" He laughed.

Mason wasn't laughing, though. He was crying softly. Tears leaked out of his blindfold, and he was just kneeling there, trying not to collapse lest he choke himself. It was clear that he was exhausted.

"So, one addiction fulfilled, another left aching for such," Collins explained. "One ruins the other, you see. Polar opposites, you could say."

"He wouldn't be addicted to this milking thing, as you say, if you hadn't started him on it," I countered, as Collins cleaned the boy up.

"Yes, and now he's so horny that he'd love nothing more than a good fucking, or should I say, one that he could feel?" Collins replied. "It's not quite as good as castration for insuring docility, but it works. If we were to let him enjoy real orgasms, Don, then he'd probably end up right back in a straightjacket and sleeping in a cage."

Mason's erection had gone back down, and Collins applied some ointment to his genitals, as there was a tiny bit of rash there. Then he put the steel pod back on. This was accomplished by reconnecting two halves of a thick metal ring snugly about the boy's balls, so small in diameter that they could not slide back up through it. Then he secured a curved metal tube over the boy's penis and aligned it. The tube attached to the ring with a click, then the outer pod was placed over the whole apparatus and put in place with two very small padlocks that held to the scrotal ring through small openings. The pod and tube had tiny vent holes, so that the boy could urinate and keep clean without ever taking it off.

"That's a bit much, what with the belt, too, isn't it?" I asked. "It must get uncomfortably hot?"

"I know some masters who have devised permanent devices like this," Collins informed me. "This one also has an internal metal tube attachment for the urethra, but since he's been a good boy, Mason doesn't warrant that this time. You see, Don, with a bit of some liquid-weld compound, like the kind they use on autos and in machine shops, you can seal the screws and locks so that they never open again."

"That's even crueler than castration," I decided, as Collins removed Mason's blindfold and gag. He freed him, but the boy didn't move.

"Clean up your mess, boy," Collins ordered him.

Mason flexed, stretched, blinked, then wiped his eyes. "Yes, sir. Thanks for draining me, sir," he said. Then he began to lick up his own spilled juice!

For some reason, I felt myself becoming aroused. Collins seemed to pick up on it. "Would you like to have him?" He asked. "There's no danger that he can orgasm, or even feel it," Collins added. "And I'm sure that Devereaux wouldn't mind."

"No, thanks," I snorted. "He's worn out! The poor boy needs to go to bed!"

When he was finished cleaning up his semen, Collins had him wash his own plug. Mason then knelt again so that his plug could be put back in. He whimpered some more, fidgeted to get it seated just right, then relaxed a bit. He was trembling, he was so tired. Between that and his rib, he was miserable.

Or was he?

"Maybe next time, sirs," Mason managed a grin. He slipped me a wink, and the corners of his mouth rose just the tiniest bit.

"That's a good boy," Collins encouraged him. Then Collins saw his bruise. "What the hell is that?!" He demanded.

"He thinks Zero cracked his rib in class," I told him.

"I asked the boy," Collins snapped at me. "And how do you know?"

"Why don't you talk to him, instead of barking at him?" I snapped back. "I know because I talked to him today! We had a very nice chat. And why are you so angry at him? Maybe he was trying to save you some work?"

"Because a milking session puts strain on the ribs, Don! If it was cracked, it could be broken by now! We need to scan him at once!" Collins hissed, moving Mason to a gurney. One room over, and Mason was on the scanning table, dressed only in his pod.

Gods, he was so perfect! I shook my head, reconsidering Collins' offer. You've heard the term "Adonis" used to describe the perfect male form? Well, this was Adonis, in all of his just-shy-of-fifteen-years-old-glory! Only that bruise and his red eyes marred the illusion of perfection.

"Cracked only, thank God," Collins sighed, as the scan completed. "We'll brace it, and keep him in bed for two days."

Mason whimpered again as Collins went over his bad rib with a small humming device. "The waves will stimulate bone growth, but it'll hurt a bit," he mused. "Don, fetch me that small one-pint [~½ litre] green bottle over there, yes, that's the one!" He then inserted the spout into Mason's butt plug, and squeezed it. Then he put a small stopper into the plug's vent. "Pain meds, he'll go right to sleep and be sleepy and stupid all day tomorrow," Collins explained. "Contrary to what you think, I'll not let him suffer."

As if that prostate milking for orgasm denial wasn't suffering? I thought it was.

"Help me move him to a bed," Collins told me. We wheeled him across the hall, and Mason was already becoming loopy. Once he was tucked in, which meant strapping him down so that he couldn't move, Collins paged his son.

Sebbie arrived, wearing only his little silver pod.

"Everyone's in their beds, sir," the boy reported. He nodded to me. "Master Don, Zero is waiting in your room as ordered, sir."

I looked at Mason. He was drooling and grinning. "Hey, Shebbeee!" He slurred. "Know I bwoke a wib?"

"I'll stay with him," I offered. "You go tend to your own son, and Zero, if you don't mind, Doc. Please?"

"I think Zero's already asleep, sir," Sebbie informed us.

"Why this sudden urge to play nurse?" Collins asked.

"We had a talk today, I told you. Why don't you play it back?" I replied, but that was all I said.

"I heard you had a talk with everyone today," Collins grinned.

"You little snitch," I glared at Sebbie, who grinned back at me.

"The little snitch is going to pay for today," Collins informed us both. "I should have been notified at once of any potential injuries, just like I was with Zero's black eye! Why wasn't I informed of Mason's rib?"

"I didn't see it, sir!" Sebbie gasped, wide-eyed, "I was busy training with Cory!"

"You can't expect him to watch everyone, and take classes!" I snapped at Collins. "He doesn't warrant any punishment! For God's sake, man, he's a child, not a business manager!"

Collins stared back at me. "Two gold stars in one day!" He commended me, and so help me, I drew my fist back!

Collins took his son's hand and they turned to go. "And make sure Zero's OK!" I called after them. Collins waved back.

"Sebbie, how long's it been since you had a good stretch?" Collins asked the boy.

"Too long, Daddy!" Sebbie smiled at him. "Oh, and you know when you put that raw steak on Zero's eye in the quiet room?"

"Yes?"

"He ate it later," Sebbie informed his father.

Well, at least they'd treated Zero's black eye! Probably didn't bother to tell him NOT to eat it?

I then went to Mason's bedside and sat. Drugged up, he looked pretty happy now.

"Mashtur Dean?" He asked, totally whacked, as the boys sometimes say.

"Yes, son?"

"Tanks fer not, puttin' shit on my dick. Fehhhlt goooood," he slurred. "Mats-hur?"

"Yes, Mason?"

"I wanna b-bw-ank… I's cold."

I got him a blanket and tucked him in. Then I kissed his forehead. I held his hand until his breathing became slow and even.

***

Mason slept peacefully all night long. At some point in the night, I must have dozed off, because he woke me up, begging for a pee! There was a urinal by his bed, so I used that for him. It wasn't that difficult, since his belt hadn't been put back on. I figured the urinal was designed to accommodate such chastity devices.

"You still lookin' at that picture, sir?" Mason asked. Then he laughed.

I put the laptop down. "All this data has to mean something," I muttered. "You OK?"

"Shoot sum'more o' that green stuff up my arse, and I'll be good!" Mason laughed. "When's break-fust?" He slurred. Then he drifted off again. He was still pretty loopy when Zero showed up with breakfast on tray about an hour later.

"Uncle?" He asked, looking at Mason. "You stay here, him, at night?"

"Yes, Zero. He needed someone to take care of him," I told him.

"Me… I… hurt him?" Zero asked. "We… in school, me… I kick him, Uncle!" He sniffled and put the tray down.

"It's OK, buddy," Mason mumbled. I undid his arm straps so he could sit up to eat. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Home," Zero offered, biting his lower lip. Mason went for his breakfast on the tray while I held Zero on my lap.

"Did they teach you to fight, really?" I asked him.

Zero nodded. "I know, Uncle. Know… stuff. I talk… good… then?"

"You can tell me all about it then, Zero," I assured him. I ran a finger along his nose. "Is that why you have all these old wounds?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "I… I talked, but me… Zee-row… get sick."

"You got sick, and when you got better, you couldn't talk? Were you in a hospital like this, Zero?"

He nodded. "Long t-time?" Then he saw the laptop. "THAT!" He yelped. "HOME!"

Then he rubbed his temples and started to cry.

"Head hurt?" Mason asked.

"Yeah. Go home?" He whimpered.

God, it was heartbreaking, those two little words.

"Go home, go home, go home…" Zero kept whimpering.

"Think about something else, Zero," I told him. Was the chip hurting him, by not letting him remember all of it? Or was he just excited? Then I saw that he hadn't geared up yet. In fact, he only had his pod on. "Zero, did you sleep all night by yourself? Not in your bed, in your room, like the other slaveboys?" I asked him. He nodded. For some reason that made me proud. "And you weren't scared?"

"No!"

He'd come so far so fast. I just wanted to hold him and kiss him, but unfortunately, we had other things to do. "I want to talk to you when you get a break, Zero," I told him. "Right now, you run along and get dressed, eat and go to class. I'm going to stay with Mason."

"I sorry, May'-sun," Zero managed, before he dissolved into tears again.

"It's OK, Zero, you didn't mean to," I tried to tell him.

"Bad! Make me bad! Teach me bad!" Zero cried. "Bad boy!" He started to beat himself about the head with his fists, and I held tight to his wrists.

"Don't do that! You'll hurt yourself!" I yelled at him.

"Hurt me! Bad Zero! Bad Kabila! Kabila bad boy!"

"ZERO!" I screamed at him, "Is that your name? Is Kabila your real name?"

He froze. Then he nodded. "Zach! Zach-ree Kabila!"

Then he swooned. The laptop crashed. Lights flickered. The fire alarm went off, a sprinkler popped, and the AC kicked up to maximum. Mason paused in the middle of his bacon. "There goes the computer again," he sighed. Then he laughed again. "Get me some ketchup, would ya, dude?"

Sleepy and stupid all day, huh?!

I got Zero into the chair, and wondered if I should leave them or not. Probably not. Mason was phasing in and out of lucidity, and Zero definitely could not be left alone, should he wake up. I paged the computer, which of course, didn't reply. I yelled at it again.

"Reboot cycle in progress, emergency CPU online. Please hold!" It replied.

The lights went out. Mason laughed. The something scraped in the dark. A flashlight [torch] came on. "Damn auto doors," Sebbie complained. "You OK in here, sir?"

"Fine, thanks," I snorted. "Sorry, Sebbie. Zero got excited, and he sort of…"

"Yeah, Dad's pissed, sir," Sebbie told me. He came over and secured Mason's hands and took the tray. "He'll go back to sleep, he's fine. Let's get Zero to Exam 1, sir." He looked around and went to find a wheelchair.

"Master Don?" Mason called after us. I turned, and he yawned. "Thanks, sir!" I went back and fixed his blanket. "Master?" He whispered in my ear. "I love you!"

"Glad I could help, son," I whispered back.

The damn elevators were out, too. Once back up the stairs, I made a vow to get in better shape. Zero was heavier than he looked!

"He remembered, Collins!" I told him excitedly, "Zero remembered his name! It's Zachary Kabila!"

"And remembering his name did all THIS?!" Collins snorted. "Good thing I wasn't in the middle of a sex change operation!" He paused. "Joking," he added. "Well don't just stand there, man! Go fix it!"

"Go fix my kid, Doc," I retorted, handing an insensate Zero off to him.

Some time later, after a routine diagnostic, I found that the new system's reboot sequence had solved its problems. Given the new protection in place, this new system was ready for an unexpected dump – just like the one that had come from Zero some weeks ago. This time, though, it had been a download – NOT an upload. I decided to keep that to myself. After all, I was sure that Collins wasn't telling me everything.

So that was our excitement for the day. Skateboard boy was brought back in by his father, complaining about his catheter. It seemed that he'd given his groin a good whack on a railing, and his urethra and penile root were so badly swollen that he couldn't pee.

"Sucks to be him, sir," Sebbie pointed out, when they'd left.

Zero was back up and back to his usual self by lunch, and he didn't appear the worse for it. Mason was still sleeping it off, and it seemed that the routine at the Collins Building was getting back underway.

"My – name is – Zachary Kabila!" Zero told us all, and he was so proud of himself. Other than that, though, he either didn't remember much, or just couldn't put words to it.

But it was enough. My boy finally had a name, not some damn number off a slave's bill of sale!

"Zachary," I whispered, kissing his ear. He giggled.

"You can still get a 'Z' tattoo, then!" Cory piped up, pointing to the © on his bicep.

"Zach, for short, is cooler!" Henry suggested. Zero liked that idea.

Zero – rather, Zach – got up and went to get a pen and paper. He wrote out a word in those characters I didn't recognize. "Tat'-too!" He showed it to me. Then he pointed to his chest, above the word "SLAVE".

"I don't know, Zach," I told him. "You really want that? You know what it means?"

"Uncle. Uncles. Uncle's slave!" Zach smiled at me, nodding, pointing to the tastefully done word on his chest.

"Let him have it, Don," Mark suggested, having finally graced us with his presence for lunch. "So, Doc tells me you're moving in down below?"

"I haven't decided yet," I retorted. "And you're not helping here, Mark!"

"Your house is totaled, Don," Mark added. "And if there's one thing you need right now, it's security. I'm trading apartments with the family next door to the vacant one, you know. Save us all some time and travel." He glanced at Zach. Zero.

"Point taken," I had to agree. I hadn't forgotten about our urbane friend with the taser, remember.

"Move?" Zach asked. "Move, sir?" He added.

"Yes," I finally caved in. "There's no sense in rebuilding way out there. Let's salvage what we can before it rains and call the movers!"

The boys were ecstatic.

"Let's not forget, we still have a lot of training to get done," Collins pointed out. Leave it to him to be the wet blanket.

I admit, I was feeling frivolous after all the arrangements were made. I think Collins was too, because he violated his rule on organic foods and allowed me to order takeout from the one Chinese restaurant that he half-trusted. After a very big day, which included knocking a hole in the wall to find the old dumbwaiter that Sebbie had mentioned, we had a party to celebrate my boy's new name and his new home. Even Mason decided to forego any more pain meds and was allowed to join us, even though he was strapped into a padded wheelchair and leaned back to favor his ribs.

"You better not have any more cola," Sebbie warned Cory, who was trying to get the hang of using chopsticks, and getting more noodles in his and Mark's laps than in his mouth.

"Why?" Cory asked.

"You pee the bed, you'll get a catheter," Sebbie reminded him.

"This from the boy who wore diapers [nappies] until he was, what, six?" Collins pointed out.

"You never bothered to potty-train me, Daddy!" Sebbie protested. "I had to figure it out on my own!"

"But you're so cute in them!" Collins teased him.

"I am not cute, Daddy," Sebbie protested.

"Amen," I had to offer. 'Cute' was not a word that described young Sebastian X. Collins II, no no! Perhaps 'chilling'? 'Threatening'? 'Ominous'? But not 'cute'. No.

"Remember those big-boy Pull-Ups with the blue bunnies and stars?" Collins teased him.

"No die-purrs," Zach told him. "Sir!"

Even Collins had to laugh at that.

All in all, it was a grand day without Collins' bloody training schedule. That night, after his bath, I took Zero… Zach to my bed. The other boys offered to watch Mason in shifts, and all I wanted was to be with my boy. My boy with a real name.

I didn't put any of his gear back on him, not even his collar. I'd removed his pod, too, because I wanted to see him as he was. No glasses, no gear, no nothing. Just Zach in his natural form. While he wasn't the young god that Mason was, he was still something to look at.

Mason had been right: Zach wasn't proportioned like a child. He wasn't built like a teen, either. He did, in fact, look like a little man that was just slightly out of proportion, leaning to the childish side. I touched his braided hair, and Zach reached out to put a warm hand on my cheek.

"I love you, Uncle," he told me clearly. "I want… talk… good, tell you… it?"

"Not now, baby," I reminded him. "In good time."

"Not a baby!" He reminded me. I had to laugh. Then he carefully began to remove my bathrobe. How long had it been since we'd been together? Too long…

I was hard, of course, and Zach wanted to give me one of his famous blowjobs. I didn't protest. He did so with no coaxing, no orders. It was as if he knew what to do, and he was good at what he did. I climaxed all too soon. He apparently swallowed it, too. More than anything, and Collins' rules be damned, I wanted to give him some pleasure.

But I didn't want to hurt him.

"Zach, can I touch you, down there? Will it hurt you?" I asked him.

He looked frightened, but he nodded. "Touch?" He asked, clearly thinking hard about it. "OK."

I didn't know if what they'd left of his poor little genitals could give him any pleasure, but I so wanted to try. He deserved that. He deserved a lot more, in fact. Gone was that wild animal of a child I'd brought home, and in his place was someone new.

Zachary Kabila Jameson.

His tiny penis didn't stiffen at all, but it did twitch as I touched it. Zach gasped, but he didn't cry out. I kissed the head of it. He thought that was funny. His skin was so soft, too. There was not one single hair in the way, and the healing gel and ointments had finally smoothed out his skin. He looked more like a toddler down there, I thought, as I gently explored him like that for the first time.

Zach trembled. I know he was scared, afraid that it would hurt. I wondered if he was doing it because he wanted to try it, or because he was afraid to hurt my feelings? Perhaps he thought he couldn't say 'no'? I reminded him to say so, if it hurt.

It had been a long time since I'd given a blowjob, and I was being very careful with Zach. As I worked on him, he got just a little bit hard. He gasped a few times at these new sensations, but that was all. I sucked him for a while, until my jaw ached, but he never became fully erect. He never cried out in pain, either, but it was clear that he wasn't going to climax. What weak erection he had soon subsided. I cursed the surgeon who'd done this to him, whoever had robbed him of so much of his manhood – and any chance at the pleasures he deserved.

"You OK, Zach?" I asked him, laying him back on the bed.

"Yeah. Thank you, Uncle. It no hurt."

"No owweee?" I reminded him playfully.

He frowned a bit. That was it, I had hurt him! He held up two fingers, just a bit apart. "Dat pod t'ing, here," he pointed at his balls, victims of that radical vasectomy they'd forced on him.

"Your balls hurt, a little bit?"

Zach nodded.

"Uncle, Henry… no… got no balls?" He then asked. "Why dat?"

"Henry was sick, Zach. He had a bad infection, and they had to come off, or he'd have died."

"Oh," Zach shrugged. "OK. Uncle?"

"Yes?"

"Z… my… balls, huwt?" He held up his fingers again. "Like… Hen-wee?"

Geeez, was he asking me if we were going to cut his balls off because he'd said that they hurt? I hugged him close and assured him that we wouldn't, not unless they started to hurt so bad, or got infected or something.

"Uncle?"

Was it time for 20 questions now? "Yes, Zach?"

"You put … in me? Mark and Coh-wee?"

Zach was asking me to penetrate him.

"You know we can't, not yet, buddy," I apologized to him. "You know you're not ready. Your plug is still too small, and it would hurt you very badly." Then I remembered the small blue toy that Sebbie had given him.

I laid him back and raised his legs, lubing him up generously. I switched the toy on, remembering how Henry had reacted to such stimulation. Remembering what I'd seen Collins do to Mason, I began working the vibrator in him. The difference was, I was looking to make him cum.

Zach closed his eyes and moaned. I moved it slowly, gently, letting him take it at his own pace. Soon, as he developed his own rhythm, his muscles moved in time to help. It took a while, but eventually, he was sweating and gripping the sheets in his fists, arching his back and moaning in pleasure.

When he finally reached orgasm, I had to remind myself not to stop. Zach was young and healthy, and he wasn't going to have a heart attack, I told myself! He cried out, his feet firmly in my shoulders, pushing on me, and his toes curled. Then it passed, and he lay there panting.

Remembering what Collins had said about repeated prostate orgasms, I continued working on him. His little penis had stiffened some again, but not a real erection. It was larger, though, and I took it in my mouth again as I continued to use the vibrator on him.

When the second climax hit him, he screamed. But I didn't stop. His head was thrashing from side to side, he was drooling, his eyes clenched shut, but the sounds he was making were clearly ones of bliss. For half an hour, I kept him that state, until he finally passed out.

I curled up with him, nestling his head into my shoulder. He squirmed only a little, a smile still on his face.

That next morning, he hadn't moved. I watched him sleeping for the longest time, relishing the feel of his warm body against mine.

His first words, when he opened his eyes, were, "I love you, Uncle."

***

To make a long story short, we called a moving company to salvage our stuff. I had no problem selling the lot, with intact yard and pool, and the boys were anxious to come to our new flat to help unpack. Given the layout of the Collins Building, it was easier to use the tenants' entrances. Of course, the dumbwaiter could get Zach to the Collins' home and business levels without being seen, but then again, why bother with that? No one gave a slaveboy a second look, really. They were always here, there, and everywhere. Those owned by the State worked on the streets, picking up trash or trimming trees, painting curbs, and whatnot, sometimes with adult prisoner-slaves, even. It wasn't unusual to see a slave with a list, maybe even a data tablet and some cargo, running errands for his family while receiving directions on a wireless headset.

If nothing else, it was a great way to take my mind off of my many problems to date.

It was while we were moving boxes that we met Raul Puente, the Mexican boy next door. I thought about Cory. God, another 'boy next door'. I wondered how badly this one was going to extort me, if he got the chance? Then again, I think I still owed Cory money from his last lawn mowing?

I hate to say it like this, but Raul was your stereotypical Mexican kid – brown skin, Native American look, straight black hair, dark eyes, round face… you know the drill. He was all of about twelve or thirteen, I guessed, shorter than Mason, but taller than the rest. The only sign of puberty was a dusting of dark fuzz on his upper lip. As it turned out, his family owned the restaurant we'd eaten at some weeks before.

Business must have been good, as the boy who was dressed in a white A-shirt and black cargo shorts and sandals, was also wearing a nice gold necklace, bracelet, and had what appeared to be ½ carat diamond earrings in both ears.

"Sebo!" Raul shouted through the open door. The vase I'd just unpacked went flying as I jumped. There was Raul standing in the doorway.

"You could have knocked?" I snorted.

"Sorry, man!" Raul apologized. Sebbie and the boys made quick little bows to him, then Sebbie hugged him. "Where you been, amigo? You ain't been around in like a month!" I guessed that 'Sebo' was Raul's nickname for our little ginger terror?

"I'm sorry, Señor Raul," Sebbie apologized to the taller boy, "We've been really busy. The boys are back in town, and we have a new friend. Have you met Zero, yet, sir? I mean Zach, mi amigo?"

Raul slung his arm around Sebbie's shoulders. "No chains today, Sebo?" He rubbed Sebbie's head, hard. "Wha's all this black leather stuff, boy?"

Apparently, these boys who lived in the same building knew one another well, and Sebbie held slave status, while holding friendship status at the same time, with Raul.

"Easier to work in, Amigo," Sebbie bowed to him slightly. Then they laughed.

"Who's this?" Raul asked, still holding Sebbie's head in the crook of his arm, as Cory came around the corner with a box. Actually, he looked like a large box with feet.

"Raul, Cory! Cory, Señor Raul! Master Mark just got Cory, Señor." Sebbie explained.

"Tha' cop?!" Raul gasped, but he grinned. "He comin' 'round more now?" Cory put his box down and bowed to Raul, as he'd been taught, trying hard to be the perfect little slaveboy.

"Pleased to meet you, Señor Raul, sir," Cory bowed to him again.

"Damn, Sebo, he's a cute one! You think Master Mark'd let me do him once?" Raul breathed, and I could see his shorts tenting out. Cory blushed.

So our new neighbor boy was gay, too. OK…

There were introductions all around, and Raul was excited to see the others, too. "Henry! How's my favorite little eunuco?" Raul gave him a noogie as well, then kissed him soundly on the mouth. He put a hand on Henry's crotch, right under his little gold penis-cap where his balls should have been. "You puttin' on weight again, fat boy!" Raul observed, patting Henry's tummy. Henry just hugged him back and smiled, and Raul had similar greetings for the rest of them.

"Rib!" Mason gasped, pointing at his brace. Raul seemed leery of Mason, though, and I didn't wonder why, as I swept up the remnants of my vase.

I cleared my throat. Raul flinched, then he shook my hand in respect and inclined his head ever so slightly. "Sorry! Nice to meet you, Señor." Sebbie cleared his throat and nodded his head at me. The Mexican boy's eyes went wide, then he bowed slightly, shaking my hand again. "Very nice to meet you, Señor Master Don!" He added quickly. He turned back to Sebbie. "You coulda warned me 'bout Jefe Don, pendejo!" Sebbie just laughed.

(From Peter's Spanish classes, I remembered that word meant "pubic hair", which was funny, since slaves weren't allow to have any. It also meant 'fool' in slang! 'Jefe' meant boss, but translated often as 'father'. I rather liked that.)

"Raul," I told him firmly, "When you meet my boy, Zach, be nice to him. He's had a very rough life, and he can't talk very well."

"He a slaveboy, too, Señor?" Raul grinned. I nodded. "Never met one I didn't like!" Raul laughed at his own joke.

About then, Zach came out of the room he'd claimed for his own. He saw Raul and froze, dropping the empty box he was carrying.

"Dat's one cool lookin' little nigga!" Raul gasped. Raul seemed to slip into slang when he was excited, I noted, and he was very excited just then. The term 'nigga' had come into vogue in the black community, and with the wannabes, around the turn of the 21st century, mainly due to the influence of rap music. Things had only gone downhill from there. "Nice to meet you, Zach!" Raul smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. I was going to have to watch this one, living next door!

Zach bowed, just as Sebbie and the boys had been teaching him. Just weeks before, he'd have probably freaked out at meeting a stranger. I felt that tingle of pride again as Zach straightened up and stood at parade rest, letting Raul look him over. It was like watching a stray dog at the butcher shoppe's window.

Raul nodded at him. "Hi, R-Raw-uhl!" Zach greeted him, fumbling his name. "Sor-r-ree!"

"It's all good, little man! They told me you can't talk too good. So, you hangin' with Sebo and his crew now?" Zach nodded. "You got some mean rows, there, Z! Jefe Ralphie do 'em?" Raul touched Zach's hair. He nodded. "Dang, Jefe Don, this one hot little slave you got!" He put an arm around Zach's shoulders. Zach smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"T'ank you, sir," Zach said to the surprised Raul.

"Zach's still learning, remember," I reminded them. "So, you know Ralphie?"

Raul shook his head. His all-one-length black hair billowed out, revealing that his head was shaven high underneath in a hidden undercut. Then I saw the ® tattoo on his bicep. So did Zach. "Uncle, see?" He pointed. "Tat'-tooo!"

"I see," I nodded at them. Raul flushed a bit.

"Don't worry, he's cool, Amigo," 'Sebo' said to Raul. "They been stayin' with us, since Zero, I mean, Zach, got sick."

"Ain't no better doc' around than Jefe Collins," Raul agreed, touching his crotch nervously. "If it's broke, he da man to fix it!"

"So, Raul," I dived right in, "You're a free boy? Does your family have a slave? Because we seem to have an abundance here."

"I ain't nobody's slaveboy, but I gets around, Jefe Don," Raul smiled at me. "My Papa, he's all like, you know, 'feels good, then do it'!"

"Hence the 'R' tattoo, then?" I laughed.

"Jefe Ralphie's da man for that!" Raul agreed.

"Among other things, Master Don," Sebbie reminded me with a wink.

"Shut up, boy, 'for I smack your ass!" Raul laughed at him, his face turning more red than brown.

"Promise?" Sebbie grinned at him. "Seriously, Master Don," Sebbie turned back to me, "Raul's our friend, even though he's a free boy. He's lived in our building all his life, with his family. We trade off things at the restaurant, and Daddy's work, you know. I've known them since I can ever remember. Raul's the first friend I ever had. They're good people, sir," he informed me, his sudden slang vanishing back into his formal address mode. "He knows everything about us, sir."

I gave Raul an appraising look. "Is that so?"

Just about then, Binoahan showed up with two large cans of paint. He put one can down, ripped the lid off with his robotic hand like it was paper, and snorted. "That stupid moron put the wrong sticker on the wrong can!" He yelled. Then he looked up. "RAUL!" He cried, all slave formality forgotten as he got his greeting.

"Cyborg! You grew, amigo! You trained up big enough yet?" Raul winked at him.

"For you, Amigo, yeah!" Cyborg nodded.

"You sayin' I got a little dick?" Raul teased him.

"No, sir!" Cyborg squeaked.

"So Raul," I had to tease him, "You're sexually active then?"

"Man, Jefe Don, I been getting' laid since I was… ," Raul began, but Sebbie cut him off daringly.

"Since his brother busted his cherry when he was eight," Sebbie laughed.

"Oh no, you didn't just go there!" Raul gave him a look.

I swear, nothing about the Collins family, or their friends, could surprise me anymore. "Well, they say incest is best," I joked. "Lighten up, Raul. It's all good, ain't it?" I threw it back at him. "You think it's not OK for a free boy to get it up the butt if he wants to?"

"Man, like I said, I gets around, Jefe Don!" Raul repeated.

"United Parcel Delivery gets around," Sebbie provoked him again. "Nobody gets more free haircuts than Raul!"

"Hey, I pays my way!"

"Not with money, though," Sebbie teased his friend.

"Uncle?" Zach piped up, touching his hair.

"I know, you're overdue to see Master Ralphie," I agreed.

"You call me, Jefe Don, I can take him next time I go," Raul offered.

"Which is, in what, ten minutes, Amigo?" Sebbie snickered.

"Man, I'm gonna wear that ass out, when I tell yo' Daddy!" Raul threatened him.

"That's what Master Ralphie said last time he cut your hair!" Sebbie countered.

"You gonna get it, so bad, Bitch-boy!" Raul threatened him again, but it was all in good fun. It was yet another facet of the slave/friend relationship for me to learn to spot. The other boys were laughing too as the old friends kissed, rather passionately.

"Maybe we should have a haircut party?" I suggested. "Sebbie, where have you been hiding this wonderful boy all this time?" I moved to put my arm across his shoulders. If Raul wanted to play his game, so could I. "Here he is, a free gay boy in your building who knows all about your extended family, knows all the boys, and you never mentioned him to me? I'll have to ask Ralphie about this, or Mark!" Just for good measure, I ran a hand up under Raul's hair, tickling his shaven nape.

Raul gulped. I could see that he was just about to mess his shorts. Oh, to be young and full of adolescent testosterone again! Raul's budding drive was beginning to find high gear, it seemed.

"Sebbie," I asked, teasing the cocksure Mexican boy further, "Has Raul ever had any formal training like you lot?"

"Yes, sir!" Sebbie replied in an oily tone, the pure evil sparkling in those ice blue eyes. I could tell I'd asked the right question! "But not like a real slaveboy, Master Don. He just does it when he feels like playing, sir."

"Man, I… I did six months with you last winter!" Raul protested. "Fuckin' chains, pods, plugs, all dat shit!"

"Lot of fucking?" I had to ask. Raul went redder.

"That was your 12th birthday present, Amigo," Sebbie reminded him. "You want me to tell Jefe Don all about it?"

"I guess a free boy can do that, if he likes," I sighed. "Me, I'd rather have a real slave. Most Masters do, I wonder? I bet these boys get more sex than you do, little Raulito!" I gave him a look, using the diminutive form of his name. Then I pulled out my phone. "RALPHIE! Don here. Yes, yes, he's fine, thanks! Say… what? Oh no, no. What I was calling about was this, Ralphie. We want to have a housewarming party for Zero. He remembered his real name, you know, and we moved! Yes, into a flat in the Collins Building. Where? Right next to one of your customers, Ralphie! You know Raulito Puente?" I paused. "Raulito Sanchez de la Santos Puente III? How old were you before you could spell all that, boy?" Raul looked like he was about to faint. "Well, yes, I know, Ralphie. When can you all come?"

Zach was tugging at my sleeve. I gave him the phone, and he scampered off to his room with it, babbling.

"You wanna play with me some more, Raul?" I asked him flatly.

"Of course he does," Doctor Collins interrupted from the open door. He looked all around. "I had no clue this flat was so large, Don! I should raise the rents!" He smiled at the boys, who all bowed. Even Raul nodded his head low. "I heard. Nice game, Don!" He congratulated me. I still wanted to smack him…

"Daddy, you're wet?" Sebbie wondered.

"It's raining outside, now. Perfect timing, Don! Sebbie, I want you to get with John in maintenance and get the dumbwaiter going. That, or bust open one of the antique stairwells! Who oversaw the refit of this place?"

"You did, sir," Sebbie reminded him.

"Oh! Could I get a towel, Don?" Boys scattered all over to find one, ripping into boxes. It never occurred to them to look in the bathroom. "I see you've met Raul?"

"Interesting character," I snorted.

"Ah! I can see he must ready for some remedial training?" Collins grinned. "I'll have to talk to his father about that!"

"Oh?"

"Yes, these little gay Mexican boys get off to an early start, you know. Puberty hits them hard and fast. Raul was getting fucked by his older brother when he was eight, and I think he started sucking dick when he was five!" Collins laughed. "Always was a filthy-minded little kid, you see! Anyway, by the time he was eleven, his father realized that the kid was totally out of control. It's fine to keep it in the family, but Raul wanted to branch out and they were afraid he'd shame them or something, or bring something home that even I couldn't cure. So he asked me if there was a way to teach him a lesson, maybe make him more like Sebbie?"

"They knew about Sebbie?" I had to ask.

"Of course," Collins waved it off. "I had a slaveboy, so what? Lots of people do. So, Raul's papa brings him up right before he turns twelve, and 'happy birthday', hello Raul! The boy does six months of slave training with us, just like Zero, Zach – I mean – is doing now."

"But now he's free again?"

"He was never legally a slave, Don. We got a permit from Mark's captain, under the premise of saving them time and money by corralling and collaring the boy for preventative measures and therapeutic purposes! You'd be surprised how much parents will pay for up to a year of training, to keep their delinquent children from becoming real slaves in the criminal system. Hot little brown arse, that Raul," he mused.

"That explains his ® tattoo," I guessed.

"Oh yes, Ralphie's quite fond of Raul," Collins laughed, as Zach came back in. He handed me the phone, bowed to Collins, then hugged him. There were party plans laid out on the screen. It looked like our boy had been busy with Ralphie.

Raul had found a towel, and Collins took it. "Not a very impressive showing upon meeting a new Master, was it, Don?" He asked me.

I know, I shouldn't have done it, but that vase had been a pricey antique! That, and this foul-mouthed little cocksure… boy… seemed to be in need of a refresher lesson in etiquette!

"Hey, I said I was sorry, Jefe Don!" Raul repeated, with a little nod. Collins put a hand on his back and pushed him down further, into a bow.

"You know, Don, my arm used to get so sore beating this one's arse," Collins mused. "Strap him bent over a table, just the right height, and just lay into those little brown cheeks with a nice, thick leather belt!" Collins' eyes sparkled. "He'd howl and cry and promise to be good, but you know, I had to go so far as to leave him with bleeding welts before it soaked into his empty head."

"Man…" Raul drawled, but Collins wasn't done.

"You should have heard him scream when I waxed him," Collins went on. "Warm up that arse, then when the wax was dry, RIP! I think Raul had hair by the time he was ten?"

"Gay boys do hit puberty sooner," I agreed. "And they have bigger dicks, too!" I went along with it.

All right, all right, yes! I was enjoying it. So were the other boys, I think, who'd all lined up to watch the show. Mason was particularly amused, even if Raul wasn't!

"I had to ice him down, to shrink it, the little horndog was so aroused," Collins continued his story. "Always hard, it seemed. Once it was down, I had to get that pod on fast! Then it was 'it's tight' or 'it hurts' or 'please take it off me'!"

"Whined like a little bitch," Sebbie offered.

"He did!" Collins smiled, patting his son's head. "But you know what, Don? After a few weeks, he started to like it! Boy could get it four or five times a night at a party, and still be begging for more!"

"Man, da' enough!" Raul protested. "OK, Jefe Collins, you win, man! I done my bit, you and Papa both happy with Raul, so what gives, Jefe? Why you dissin' me like this?"

"Because you're a rude, arrogant, cocky little bastard with wet shorts!" I pointed out.

Raul looked down. There was a wet spot of precum, a blacker patch on his black shorts, about double the size of a large grape at the apex of the tent in his shorts. The boys all snickered.

"What's this?" Another voice called from the doorway, "Hello Señors?"

"Ahhh, Mr. Puente!" Collins greeted him. "Shouldn't you be making burritos about now?"

"I got a dishwasher come down with a bag bug," Puente Senior explained. "I think Montezuma got him!" He looked at his son, who was by now, a few shades paler. "What did you do now, Raulito?"

I presented my dustpan full of broken vase. Mr. Puente went very red. What was that about Mexican tempers?

"Six months, I have them train you!" Puente Senior said coldly, "You shame me, you get arrested, I bail your ass outta baby jail, I get you trained, and what do you do now? You know how much this Collins family EATS in six months, you chucha cuerera?! Organic, authentic Mexican food?!" Then he spotted the wet spot. "You down here messin' with these boys? You botherin' this new boy already?"

"Papa! I wasn't!" Raul protested, "I saw Sebo, and I…"

"It really was an accident sir," I cut in, thinking it had gone far enough. "The boy got excited, yelled, I've been a bit stressed out, and he scared me, is all. I dropped the vase. It's nothing, sir. Really. Don't be too angry at him," I gave Raul a look. I'm sure it didn't inspire confidence, though.

"And who'r you?" Puente Senior asked.

"Oh, Don Jameson! Your new neighbor. Just moving in! Pleased to meet you!"

"You like Mexican food, hombre?" He handed me a coupon. Then he grabbed Raul's arm. "You comin' to wash dishes until we close! Then we talk to the doctor again tomorrow morning!" He then looked at Sebbie. "You come see me sometimes, Sebo, si? You been hidin' from us?"

Sebbie smiled, bowed, and promised that he would. Good grief, was Raul's father doing Sebbie, too?! Then again, why was I surprised?

"Papa!" Raul wailed, as Puente Senior then began swatting his son's butt all the way out the door and down the hall.

"Don't you just love ethnic diversity?" Collins grinned.

"He's backsliding, Daddy," Sebbie pointed out. "All that 'look at me' stuff, and 'I'm so cool Raul!' Telling me he's gonna…"

"Yesssss, he is," Collins leered at the doorway, interrupting his son. "Good job in flushing it out, boy!"

"You're setting Raul up?" I gasped. "I didn't mean to… over a vase?"

"What vase?" Mark asked, poking his nose in the door. "Say, Seb, is it OK if we have the movers come tomorrow?"

"Movers?" I wondered.

"Well, yeah? Cory and I are moving in next door, remember?" Mark reminded me. "Say, I saw Raul and his dad on the way up? What's that about?"

"Raul's backsliding, Master," Sebbie told him, with a nod from his father.

"Oh my!" Mark smiled darkly.

"Yes, best we nip it in the bud, again," Collins decided. "Skateboard-boy across the way, from yesterday? Remember him? My outside cameras caught him and Raul tagging the Davis Building a few nights ago, before he met up with the rail. What do you want to do, Mark?"

Mark thought about it. "Raul's got too many priors," Mark decided. "If he gets charged again, it's the baby jail-slave shop until he's twenty-one. Cory, you want Mexican food tonight, son?"

"Yes, sir!" Cory beamed.

"Good! We'll go by and talk to Raul Senior at closing. You can stuff yourself on leftover chips and salsa, kid!"

Cory literally drooled.

"You're going to take ANOTHER one in?!" I gasped. "Are you nuts, Collins?"

Zach had moved to my side. He'd been very quiet the whole while, but now he was scared. "Jail, Uncle? Jail bad?"

"Jail is where they lock you up in a small room and make you miserable, Zach. Do you understand?"

He clearly didn't. "Master?" It was Mason who held up his hand. I nodded at him. "Zach, remember that movie where the cops, like Master Mark, took that bad guy who stole the car? On the movie? They put him in that room, in a cage?"

"No jail, Uncle!" Zach whined. "Pweeez! Rul bad boy? Him… he come… here, Uncle?" Zach begged. "He know Sebbie? Come here, no jail?"

"Out of the mouths of babes," Collins sighed. "Don, do you know what a treasure you have here? Zach just met that boy, and he's upset that he might be going to jail?"

"Bad boy," Zach whimpered, looking hard at Mason.

"No, Z, it's not like that!" Mason intervened. "You didn't mean to hurt me! But Raul thinks it's fun to be bad, and get in trouble! You don't think it's funny, do you?"

"No," Zach pouted.

"Then you're not a bad boy," Mason assured him, hugging him. "Don't you think you are, 'cause you're NOT! Doesn't matter what somebody did to you once, Z. You don't have to be bad, even if they wanted you to a long time ago. You don't care what they told you, OK? You're here with us now, and Master Mark will help Raul. He won't go to jail. He won't be bad any more."

"OK," Zach conceded, and the absolute trust on his face was all I needed to see. Mason had pulled him through something that I wasn't sure I could have.

"Zach, why don't you show the boys your new room?" I pointed to the door. "Get all your things unpacked now."

"OK!" Zach agreed, and off they went.

"What was that?" Mark asked. "Mason willingly talked?"

"Don broke him yesterday," Collins explained, and I started.

"What?!"

"You made him cry, Don," Collins explained. "I watched the surveillance footage, as you suggested. You held him, and you made him cry. You got him to spill his true feelings. Now that we know, we can help him. Devereaux's been trying to get that out of him since he bought him."

"But Mason hates him," I pointed out.

"Yes, we know," Mark put in. "Sad thing is, Dev really loves that boy. He didn't want to see him fall into the wrong hands when the stepdad sold him, but Dev moved too fast – because he loved him too much. Sometimes, the road to Hell really is paved with good intentions. Mason had a gay gene marker, Seb found, but Dev fell in love with him and moved too fast. In Mason's head, he's a prisoner being tortured and raped."

"It's one of those rare cases of the slave breaking the Master," Collins explained. "My boyhood friend, Alexander, used to be able to do that, without even trying." He paused for a moment, turning his back.

"Don't ask," Mark whispered to me.

"Don," Collins finally said, his voice hoarse now, "I think I may have misjudged you and your technique as a Master. I want you to take over with Mason. You and that little miracle you now call 'Zach'."

Collins called it an 'emergency intervention session'. I called it a chance to show off his slaveboys and mooch some free Mexican food. It must have been a golden opportunity, for him to sack his precious schedule and let the boys stay out late!

We quickly rounded up the boys from Zach's already-a-disaster-area of a bedroom and hurriedly dressed them in their 'formalwear' for a trip downtown. The boys were, of course, thrilled. I thought that Mark's idea of handcuffing Cory to his own wrist was a bit much, though.

Having a police escort, though, I had to admit, eased my mind a great deal. Since the attempted abductions, what had happened to Cory's biological father, and the destruction of my house, we'd been holed up inside the Collins Building for a while. It had been beginning to get to all of us, I think. That, and the fact that I was now worth more than a small nation in some parts of the world gave me pause. I tried not to think about it, but honestly, we still had no clue just whose money Zero had absconded with. I just hoped that that chip in his brain that tended to like certain computers had covered its virtual tracks. After all, someone was bound to miss that kind of money and come looking for it.

For Zero – or rather, Zach, as he insisted was his real name – going out on the town was a thrill. To him, everything in the city was something shiny and new. He hardly blinked, trying to take it all in and process it all. If the image that we'd recovered from his data dump was indeed "home", then the city must have been fascinating for him. I wondered what it was like to see it through those innocent eyes.

As we've said before, some businesses didn't like having slaves about. Some used them for labor. Others banned them altogether. Mr. Puente's establishment, The Flaming Chihuahua, was quite slave-friendly, however. (I know, what's in a name, right?) We were all escorted to a rear banquet room that was not in use, and the boys were hardly able to contain themselves. Mr. Puente seemed quite taken with Zach, and almost collapsed when I told him how little I'd paid for him – and that he was NOT for sale at any price. I guess that explained Raul III's behaviour, huh? Like father, like son.

"So where's Raulito?" Mark asked our host.

"Chained to the sink, washing dishes," Mr. Puente replied with a snort. "You eat, I'll bring something nice for the boys. Then we talk, OK?"

Seated between Mason and Zach, I was lucky to be able to snatch a chip at all without fear of losing a finger. I prefer mild salsa myself, but Sebbie encouraged everyone to try his favorite salsa. It sent poor little Cyborg into sneezing fits.

What surprised me, though, was the turn of the conversation, and who was in charge of it.

"Right then, boys," Sebbie started off, at his father's suggestion, "We're here to discuss the problem with Raul. Cory, Zach, since you weren't here last year, you don't know about him. In a nutshell, Raul's dad contracted my daddy to train Raul as a slave and discipline him for six months, since he was an out of control horndog. He's a bad seed, an embarrassment to his family, and Master Mark's probably tired of cleaning up the messes that Raul makes. If we don't do something with him, he's gonna end up in juvenile custody until he's twenty-one, probably on a highway crew. If you guys thought that community service in the city park was bad…?"

"Well, we have to take him back in," Henry nodded between bites. "And I hate trimming hedges!"

"Agreed," Mason piped up, which got everyone's attention. "Question is, just how hard do we go on him this time? I mean, no offense Masters, but you guys weren't all that hard on him last year, and he really deserves it."

I was perplexed by this turn. Yet another facet of the slave business that I needed to learn. Some areas, it seemed, were best governed by the slaveboys? How odd. I also found it fascinating that Mason, whom I thought would be the last one to want to see a free be enslaved, was taking this harsh tone.

"I think we should make him do all we do, just so he knows how bad he screwed up," Cyborg added. "Like, I'd make him help clean the pool for two weeks, but not let him go swimming in it."

"Straightjacket," Mason suggested.

"Shave his head," Henry added.

"Gagged, 24/7, except for meals," Cory offered shyly, holding up his hand.

"You don't have to ask permission at a slave conference," Sebbie informed him.

I'll leave out some of the more lurid ideas that the veteran slaveboys came up with, but suffice it to say, they have vivid imaginations.

"Question?" I cut in.

"Respectfully, Master Don, you do not have the floor right now, and it's out of line, but I think in your case of being a novice, we can take exception?" Sebbie asked around. The boys all agreed. I was stunned. Collins just laughed at me. And this kid was eleven? I'd heard less articulate politicians giving speeches.

"Thank you, Chairman Sebbie," I snorted at him. "I noticed that Raul has a special circled-R tattoo, like Sebbie's 'S' and Cory's 'C'. Now, I'm thinking this is some special sign that I am not party to yet, so I won't ask, however – I am curious that you didn't make him get any more. Or did you?"

"No, but excellent suggestion, Master Don!" Sebbie leered at me, looking especially creepy just then, in fact, downright manic.

"We can have Master Ralphie use that special fading ink on him," Mason suggested, "But don't let Raul in on it."

"How did you know about that?" Collins cut in.

"Daddy, you're out of order," Sebbie reminded him, and I nearly fell off my chair!

"Master used it on me, to see if he liked the idea he had, sir," Mason shrugged. "He didn't. The tattoo went away after about a month, the ink was really weak."

"He'll freak out if he gets slave tattoos!" Cyborg gasped, choking and shooting iced tea out of his nose.

"Yeah, but it'll sure get his attention, let him know we're not fucking around this time," Sebbie agreed. "Make a note of that, Daddy," he told Collins, and he nodded seriously. "A headshave and a set of slave tattoos."

"Yes, sir," Collins smiled at him, looking just like any other proud father, and not an incestuous slave Master.

This whole conference was fascinating!

"I think a more permanent, serious punishment is needed," Mason spoke up again. "I'd put him in orgasm denial for at least three months, maybe six And increase his bondage, added security, you know. He might freak out and try to make a break for it. We should restrict his movements, even GPS chip him."

Collins nodded again. Mason nodded back. "What do you mean 'permanent'?" The Doctor asked. "Anything as such would have to have written consent from his father, and a special dispensation from the State Health Care Office. Remember, boys, this only temporary enslavement. And you know how I feel about permanent harm, Mason."

"Let's hear it!" Sebbie said anxiously.

"Circumcise him," Mason said coldly. "You do that, with him thinking the tattoos are permanent, and he'll break," he snapped his fingers, "Just like that!"

Sebbie nodded deviously. "He is pretty proud of that cock of his!"

"It's a nice cock," Henry agreed. They all just gave him a look. "What?"

"Never mind," Sebbie sighed.

Throughout the whole conversation, Zach had been very quiet. "Jail bad, Sebbie, like place… Uncle got me?" He finally asked.

"Zero, I mean, Zach, I think the place where Master Don got you from is a lot worse. You probably had it worse than all of us."

"Yeah," Henry put in, "And I been in the system."

"But baby-jail can't sell Raul, can they?" Cyborg asked.

"That's up to a judge, depending on his behaviour while incarcerated, if I may?" Mark cut in.

The boys all looked at him. Sebbie nodded. What was this bizarre sudden role reversal I was seeing?

"If Raul gets into trouble while in custody," Mark explained, "The State has the option to send him on, as a minor, to someplace like The Clearing House in order to recover costs, if he doesn't live up to their expectations. If he costs them more than what he puts out in work, they'll sell him for sure."

"NO!" Zach stood up so quickly that he bumped his knees on the table. "No house! No bad man… got thing! Hurt thing!" He poked his straw around, as if to make his point, since he didn't know the words 'cattle prod' or 'stun stick'.

All too well, I recalled the night I'd first seen Zero. That unmitigated arse with his cattle prod, the cruel chains holding the boys to the floor so that the patrons could ogle them, and the overall cruelty of the place. My boy curled up and crying on the floor, hit with that pain stick. And I even had no idea what went on in the back!

"Raul come… us… live with… us!" Zach managed it, slamming his fist on the table. He turned on Mark. "You, cop! You get R-R-Rah-him! Get right now!"

The look on my boy's face was deadly.

"Well, I think that's that," Sebbie cut in. "All in favor of adopting Raulito for at least one year, probably longer, with severe discipline and full workup?" He asked.

All the boys' hands went up. I noticed that Sebbie used the diminutive form of the Mexican boy's name just then. Something had just changed, and I feared for Raulito if General Sebbie were placed in charge of him.

"So carried," Sebbie announced. "Daddy, you'll have to see to this and make the arrangements. I'm sure you'll talk to Mr. Puente tonight, then?"

"Now!" Zach reminded him.

"Let's eat first," Henry assured him, "Raulito's doing dishes right now."

"Oh, OK," Zach conceded. You'll recall that doing dishes was a very serious thing for my boy. He went back to his chips and dip. I guess if Raul was doing dishes, then it was all right?

When the main course arrived, Mr. Puente joined us at table. "Señor Collins, I don't know what else to do," the man conceded. "I thought that staying with you for six months would help, but it didn't. He thinks it was all just fun and games, and those weekend visits were just play for him. Raul is sneaking out at night, getting into trouble, and we can't take it anymore. His mother is a wreck over it! And it shames us all. I cannot keep up with paying for the damages he does, or paying fines and bailing him out. The lawyer alone eat me out of house and home!"

Collins raised an eyebrow. "Raul, we have a plan," he said, "But I don't think your boy's going to like it. I don't know if you'll like it!"

"But you like it, Doc?"

"I do," Collins smiled at him.

"You have to do something, Doc, I swear, that boy! I am just about ready to cut his balls off!" Raul Sr. ranted.

"Oh!" Henry squeaked.

"Well, we weren't going to go that far!" Collins laughed.

Puente Sr. threw up his hands. "Why not?!"

"Raulito is looking at eight years in juvenile custody," Mark said, "If and only if this latest adventure of his gets out. Seb has video of him tagging [spray painting] the Davis Building last night. That, or if he gets caught even littering! He's flat out of chances, Raul. He can't screw up again with the law. Now, since I'm party to this, I can take him in. However…"

"However, you get me lawyer bill, big ticket to pay, and I still lose him?" Raul Sr. shook his head. "No, we cannot have such shame on us. What you do, then, Collins? You take him back as a slave again? That didn't work, I see, but for what – six months?"

"This time, he's going all the way, and it'll be for at least a year. More, if you'll consent," Collins explained. "Raul will stay with us fulltime. He will, in effect, be a slave, until such time that we think he deserves to be free again. That will be up to me, as well as up to you and your family. We can leave the duration open? However, this time he will be more severely disciplined. I'll let my son explain the rest?"

"Sir," Sebbie nodded to him. "What we plan is this: Raul moves in with us. Master Ralphie will use a special ink to tattoo him, making Raul think he's a real slave – for good. But it'll be temporary stuff, sir. Thing is, Raul won't know that. You know he's a real horndog, sir? Well, the only sex he'll get is slaveboy-sex: being a total bottomboy. He won't even see his dick for all the time he's with us. He'll be in long-term orgasm denial, and his punishments for messing up will be hard, sir. One more thing, to teach him a real lesson, sir?"

"Go on, Sebo?" Mr. Puente smiled, seeming to like the idea. I wondered just how perverted this man was? He was certainly eyeing Sebbie like a king burrito with extra sauce!

"Let my Daddy circumcise him, sir. Just like us."

Mr. Puente raised his eyebrows. "You sure you don't wanna castrate him, Doc?" He then laughed.

"Oh, no! I think we'll even feed him all sorts of nice aphrodisiacs, come to think?" Collins grinned.

"Think about this, Raul," Mark warned him. "This is gonna be a mind-breaker this time! It won't be all fun and games, with a known expiration date. It won't be a weekend play date to play slaveboy, or an excuse to get sex! He may like it now, but after a few weeks of no cumming, and having his little butt worn out, it's gonna get to him! And once Doc peels his dick like a banana, well, circumcision is forever, Raul!"

"Nah, a few grafts, a few stem cells, I can loosen him back up later," Collins promised. "Piece of proverbial cake. But we won't tell him that."

Puente Sr. thought about it, but for only as long as it took Henry to finish his burrito.

"You draw up a contract, Collins," the man decided. "You go get him when he gets all the dishes done, Mark! You take him home, and you whip him into shape! You do that, and you eat here free for life, Doc!"

"I just happen to have a contract right here," Collins reached into his breast pocket. Damn, the man had planned this all along! One more slaveboy for his harem?

Puente read over it. "So if I get this, Doc, you could keep my boy for a long, long time? More than a year?"

"For as long as it takes," Collins replied. "Like Sebbie said, at least a year. And believe me, Raul, we're going to make it tough on him. We're going to break him." He paused for a drink. "You never know, Raul… the boy might come to like it so much that he won't want to go back to being a free boy."

Mr. Puente pulled out a pen and signed the contract. It was a real one on paper, and Mark scanned it in and forwarded it to the proper authorities. An arrest warrant came back to his tablet at once, signed by the judge himself. Mark snickered. "His Honour is looking forward to coming by your place, Seb," Mark commented.

"Now you see how we get things done around here, Don?" Collins smiled at me.

After our meal was done, and the restaurant ready to close, we waited until the dishes were done. Mark then did his thing. He strolled into the kitchen (Raulito really was chained to the sink by one leg), pulled out his cuffs, and said, "Raulito Sanchez de la Santos Puente III? You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…"

"What the hell is this?" Raulito squeaked, as Mark cuffed him, without even taking off his apron.

"You're under arrest! ARE YOU DEAF, KID?" Mark shouted at him. "You're under arrest for the vandalism of the Davis Building!"

Raulito was very pale as Mark led him from the kitchen in handcuffs. "Jefe Mark! There's gotta be some mistake! It wasn't me, I swear!"

"Save it for the judge, kid," Mark told him flatly. "Among other things to save!"

"NO! Shit, no, man! That judge got a hard-on for me! One more time, and I go up the river for ten years, man!" Raulito cried.

"We'll talk about it later," Mark snorted, "And yes, you have no idea."

"PAPA! PAPA!" Raulito yelled. "Don't let 'em take me, Papa! I won't do it no more, I promise, Papa!" He cried desperately. "Don't let 'em take me to baby-jail again! I don't wanna be a State slave!"

"The last, what? Six times? That didn't do it? You didn't think of this before?" Puente Sr. replied. He then began to rant, waving his arms about. I don't speak Spanish all that well, but Mr. Puente's command of the language was… colorful.

"Sebo!" Raulito turned to Sebbie, "Can you get your dad to do something? He got the jack [money] and the friends, Sebo! Have him do something!" Sebbie just smiled at him, a smile that sent chills down my spine. This was how young Sebbie could treat his so-called friend?

"Well, now!" Collins smiled, as Mark and Mr. Puente frog-marched the boy along down the road towards the Collins Building. "Just what did you have in mind, Raulito?"

"I dunno! Anything! I could like, lay low for a while at your place, you know? Work it off, man? We can make a deal, Doc!"

"What do you think, Señor Puente?" Collins played along.

"You want him, you keep him, Señor Doctor!" Puente agreed, "So long as he don't cost me no more money, shame me, or make his Mamma cry no more! This way, we know where he's at and who watching him."

"Very good," Mark nodded, and he pulled a ball gag from his belt and put it in Raulito's mouth, who protested all the time and had to be held, still mumbling into the gag when it was in place.

It wasn't a long walk back, and we took the business entrance in. Raulito was trembling and pale as the door closed between him and his father. He made a small sound as the lift started up, and (I suspected it was Sebbie) one of the boys was snickering.

***

"Sebbie, you'll get everyone ready for bed again?" Collins told his son. "Daddy has work to do."

"Yes, sir!" and off they all went. Sebbie paused. "What about Zach and Mason, sir?"

Collins looked at me. "Send them to us in… ah?"

"Exam 1," Collins filled in.

"Send them there when they're done. I'll be taking them home with me tonight."

"You think that's wise, Don?" Mark asked, as Raul was shoved on along into Exam 1.

"I'm in charge of Mason now, and Zach needs to get used to his new home," I explained. "Hell, he never got to see that much of his old one! I've got to establish some stability in his life."

"As you wish, good idea," Collins nodded, as Mark removed Raulito's cuffs. Coming from the Doctor, that a high compliment.

"Strip, and get up on the table," Collins ordered the terrified boy.

Raulito did that. I'll give the boy one thing, he certainly had a body. He was just as ripped as Mason, and his uncut dick was just as big! No wonder the boys had said he was so proud of it! He already had an erection that was a good 6" [15 cm], and his foreskin was big enough so that it still covered the head with a bit of reservoir tip to spare. A neatly trimmed patch of thick black hair surrounded his package, but his ample scrotum was smooth, containing what looked like sizable treasures within. He also had a modest gold PA piercing, just peeking out of his foreskin.

I had to admit, I think I could have fucked that boy right then and there. His situation, shall we say, was very arousing! So much for inhibitions…

Standing there naked, Raulito paused.

"On the table, boy!" Collins repeated, picking up a leather strap from the nearby cart full of medical horrors. Collins then held up the contract. "READ!"

Raulito's eyes moved, and then his bladder let go.

"Congratulations, Raulito," Collins told him, as he cleaned it up, "Not only have you earned up to eight years as the newest slaveboy here, but you've also earned a catheter for a month!"

Raulito bolted, but Mark grabbed him. As he spun the naked boy around, Collins lashed out with the strap. SMACK! A red weal appeared across Raulito's buttocks. He screamed into his ball gag.

Mark forcibly put him on the table, and Collins glared at him. "You so much as twitch, boy, and I'll start cutting things off. Got me?"

Raulito nodded and mumbled into his gag.

They did a medical scan, and then ordered him towards the shower area. "You know the drill, boy," Collins told him. "Wash up, and then get on the bench!"

Raulito complied, being very careful of the angry red weal on his backside. He also washed his impressive genitals carefully, I think, so as not to give the impression that he was trying to pleasure himself. Once on the bench, Collins began his enema. Raulito's belly swelled, and he whimpered. "Get used to the cramps, boy, there's a lot of soap in that mixture! You know you get one every day now, just like the rest of them."

Four rinses later, and the pregnant-looking boy was panting in exhaustion and misery as he expelled the last one. Just for the record, he needed that cleaning out badly. Nothing that smells that bad should come out of anyone!

Raul was then strapped down to a rolling X-frame device, and moved back into the exam room. By this time, Sebbie (dressed only in his pod) arrived.

"Doctor, can you use some help?" He asked.

"Fetch me a #14FR foley cath kit, nurse," Collins ordered playfully, and Sebbie's eyes lit up. Raulito's proud cock pounded in time with his racing heat, thumping on his flat stomach. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking in his restraints.

"Master Don, sir," Sebbie reported to me, as he prepped the kit, donning sterile gloves and a white mask, "The boys are awaiting your orders outside, sir."

I decided to try my plan. I went to the door. "Mason, you and Zach are to go down the dumbwaiter to our apartment. No gear, and go right to bed. Lock the door to the flat behind you, all right? I'll be along soon. It's late, so you both go right to bed! No TV, no talking! Got it?"

"Sir!" They both snapped, and ran. I saw that Zach had a hold of Mason's hand.

"You know that Mason could run away now, don't you?" Mark asked. "He could just go right out your front door and out the main entrance?"

"He won't," I replied. "Besides, he's naked, barefoot, marked, and someone from your department would pick him up right off. It's not like he could hide that well, or try to use public transportation? Besides, where would he go?"

"I hope you're right," Collins snorted, as he picked up a syringe and shot some lubricant up into Raulito's hard penis. He worked it up the urethra a bit, injected some more, as Sebbie anxiously handed him the catheter.

Raulito's eyes were even wider, and he was screaming into his gag, fighting his restraints.

"Sucks to be you, Amigo!" Sebbie told him.

"Sebbie," Collins warned him, as Sebbie swabbed Raulito's cock with disinfectant. Either it stung, or it was cold, as Raul yelled into his gag again.

"Sorry, sir!"

Collins slid the catheter tip in, then began slowly pushing it up and in. Raulito's erection wilted some. Then Collins stopped. "Relax and pee," he ordered Raulito, "Or this will hurt like hell!"

The catheter slid on in, and Raulito gasped. Collins strapped a bag to his leg, and urine dripped into it. Then he used another small syringe to inflate the balloon that was in the boy's bladder. For the next month, Raulito would have no bladder control.

"Should have used a #12, I think," Collins mused, as he examined his tray. He pulled out another swab on a long stick and a bottle of Betadyne disinfectant, with which he swabbed Raul's package again. Positioned as he was, Raulito couldn't help but watch. Then he picked up a metal tube, studied it, discarded it, and fitted another over the boy's penis while Sebbie moved the catheter out of its way. He rolled the foreskin back, then back up over the tube. He then removed the catheter from the bag, after watching it drip for a moment, and plugged it. Sebbie held it out of the way. For a moment, I expected him to tug on it!

Collins then picked up a small tool like a scalpel, and switched it on. The tip of the blade began to glow. "Cautery tool," the Doctor explained, "Minimizes bleeding. You're going to be circumcised, Raulito," he patted the boy's tummy.

Raulito strained and screamed into his gag, but that was all he could do, held immobile as he was as his foreskin faced its demise.

"I hope you had a good wank with it this morning, Raulito," Mark told him, running a hand over his nipples, "Because it's the last one you'll ever have with your stuff all intact! Just so you know, you're Papa wanted to castrate you. Did you know?"

Raulito's eyes bulged, as if he thought that this was it. Well, in a way, it was.

Collins touched the hot tip to Raulito's stretched foreskin, pulling it tighter, and ran it around his penis in one smooth movement.

Raulito screamed into his gag. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. The amount of skin that Collins pulled off was impressive. He flipped it into a small dish, and Sebbie handed it to Mark, who sealed it in small container and put it in a freezer. The metal tube came off, and Raulito's exposed penis looked entirely different. The burn scar was very near his body, but there was little blood. The skin was tighter, and veins shown. Collins swabbed it again. Raulito screamed again.

"No anesthetic?" I protested.

"Sometime, the student calls for the teacher to bend the rules," Collins sighed. He then turned his attention to Raulito's inner foreskin, now that most all of his outer was gone. He removed a generous amount of it, as well. Then he turned his attention to the boy's tightly stretched frenum. "That's gotta go," Collins stated, and when touched the tip of the cautery pen to it, Raulito strained and screamed again. He was covered in sweat, his body spasmed, and semen leaked out around his catheter.

"Damned if he didn't just cum!" Mark gasped. "Think we got another pain pig here, Doc?"

"Could be," Collins nodded clinically, as he deftly removed all of Raulito's frenum, the most sensitive part of the penis. Exposed and throbbing again, Raulito's remodeled penis looked like a totally different thing. The boy was crying now, mumbling, probably still begging for mercy into his gag. Collins swabbed his penis down again. Raulito fainted. Sebbie helpfully offered a vial of smelling salts to revive him.

"Damn, I fucked up," Collins observed. "All that cum in there around his catheter? He could get an infection?"

"It's OK, Daddy, it happens to everybody," Sebbie pointed out.

"What do you suggest we do, doctor?" He asked the boy.

"Take it out, clean it, give him a bladder rinse, then put it back in, doctor," Sebbie advised. Under other circumstances, that exchange might have been cute.

"My thoughts exactly, son," Collins nodded, as he had Mark grab a large bag of saline solution to hang on an IV pole. Collins connected it to the catheter, and gravity did the rest. Raulito's tummy bulged, just above his pubic region. Somehow he managed to look even more terrified. The urgency to pee must have been torture for him.

Collins then deflated the catheter's holding balloon with the small syringe, and it slid out. Sebbie helped it along, of course. Raulito whined into his gag, and Sebbie had just enough time to get a large urinal to Raulito's penis before his overextended bladder let go.

When he was done, I was treated to another lesson in prostate drainage, just to be sure that Raulito was empty. He still had quite a bit in there. "Boys this age make a lot of cum,' Collins reminded us, as it was collected in a small dish.

Sebbie then soaked the catheter in Betadyne again, and back in it went. Collins then picked up a larger syringe, and loaded it with something. Raulito's welted and red left buttock was then injected with what turned out to be a potent antibiotic. It looked like it hurt, too, but this time, all the boy could do was whimper.

"Do no harm?" I reminded the good doctor.

"This is for his own good," Collins justified it. "Sebbie, run and fetch some heavy work gear. I think the ones Mason outgrew should do nicely?"

Raulito's gear was a set of padded black leather cuffs for his wrists and ankles that weighed 10 pounds [4.5 kg] each. As his freshly circumcised penis needed time for the healing gel to work, he got no chastity device put on. Collins then turned the boy on the frame, and began studying a selection of butt plugs in a cabinet. It was like some ghoulish trophy case, I thought.

He selected a black plug that was larger than Mason's, even. It had two phalanges, and a bulge that seemed designed to keep constant pressure on the prostate. He lubricated the boy, then began working it in. Still, all that the exhausted boy could do was whimper.

"Oh, c'mon, Raulito," Mark encouraged him. "Don't tell me you can't take that? Hell, Master Ralphie's dick is bigger than that, and we all know how much you like it!"

I think I understood why Raulito had an ® tattoo on his bicep now. Then again, Cory had the ©, and I knew that Ralphie hadn't penetrated him?

Yet…

The plug went in. It was also vented, so as to facilitate any infusion of liquid medications into the boy's colon, who would then helpless to expel them once the vent was plugged. The second phalange also made it impossible for him to work it back out. However, Collins was now studying a selection of black leather belts.

He selected a nice thick one, about 6" [15 cm] in height, and locked it around the boy's waist. He connected the thick back strap to the plug, and aligned it so that the attachments in front could later accommodate fastening a chastity pod to it. Raulito's limp and raw penis was a stark contrast to the black leather. Frankly, I was amazed that the boy was still conscious.

Then came the collar.

Mark selected this – a black posture collar that looked quite heavy, and would make it impossible for Raulito to move his head. He snapped it on, and locked it with a tasteful chrome padlock that was another great contrast.

The lock clicked – Raulito finally fainted.

"Well, that's that," Collins observed, "For now. Let's get to bed, shall we? Sebbie, you come with Daddy, OK?"

"Yes, sir!" Sebbie almost crooned, and we were apparently back to father/son again, and not slave/Master. I figured that Sebbie was probably in for a rough night, judging from the bulge in his father's trousers. I had to admit, I was quite aroused myself.

"You're just going to leave him there?" I asked, as Mark switched off the lights. It was pitch black in the room now.

"Eh, he'll sleep it off," Collins waved it off. "He'll be fine."

'Fine' was not a word that I would have used to describe Raulito just then.

"Seb, I think I'll go wake up Cory," Mark added.

"I'm going to bed," I snorted.

I tried to put Raulito out of my mind as I went down and out, and then back up the tenants' way again. No way was I using that silly dumbwaiter! I made a note to set up a computer terminal in my new flat, so that I wouldn't have to do all this running up and down. I unlocked the door, and crept to Zach's room.

He and Mason were curled up together in Zach's bed. Just as I'd thought, Mason hadn't fled. His free arms were around Zach, the blanket down at about their waists. Zach was spooned up against him, his thumb in his mouth, and Mason's chin resting on Zach's shoulder. It was so damn cute that I took a picture of them.

Mason had a smile on his face as I pulled the blanket up and tucked them in.

***

Not surprisingly, I couldn't get to sleep that night. I sat up in bed, studying the idyllic desert image and just thinking. At around 2:30AM, there came a soft tap at the door. "Yes?"

Mason opened the door, standing there with his hands behind his back and looking at his feet. "I saw your light on, sir, and well, I didn't know what to do, sir, or I wouldn't have come to get you, sir, but…"

"Is Zach all right, Mason?" I gasped.

"He peed the bed, sir. I'm sorry, sir, I think we all had too much to drink, sir." I saw that Mason looked as if he had to pee too, but wasn't going to ask. "He didn't even wake up, sir, and I don't know where the clean linens are, or I'd have just…"

"Go and pee, Mason, it's all right. I'll be right along."

"Really?" The boy whispered. I nodded, and he fled. Fast.

You'll recall that Zach is a sound sleeper. Once he's down, he's down for the night. I held him while Mason changed the bed and took the soiled linens to the laundry. Then he went to the corner, picked up a suitcase, and ushered me into the living room. He opened the case and selected a leather strap. Then he bent over the sofa, exposing that hard arse of his to me.

"What the hell do you expect me to do with this?" I asked him.

"I got up, sir, and I had to pee. I bothered you in the middle of your work, sir. I'm sorry, but I should punished now, sir."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, boy, at ease before you sprain something!" I snapped at him. Geeez, just what did Devereaux do to this kid? No wonder he hated him.

Mason didn't know what to do. Seven years of conditioning had obviously done something to him, but I wasn't sure what. "There's a catheter kit in my case, sir, if you'd rather do that. I can install it myself, sir, if you don't know how."

"Mason, it was a boys' night out. You had more to drink that you normally do, and you had some excitement. It's perfectly normal, son! I'm not going to punish you for that. Hell, I've had to go twice tonight myself."

"But you're a Master, sir," Mason reminded me.

"I'm not YOUR Master, boy. I'm just your guardian for now, and I do things a bit differently." I went to the sofa and got him to sit beside me, pulling that head of thick black hair down onto my shoulder. I rubbed his thigh as I talked. His skin was soft and hairless, but the muscle below it was hard as a rock! I realized I'd not bothered to dress, and that I was very aroused. Mason saw this too.

"Thank you, Master Don," Mason mumbled. "Y-you're very kind, sir." He then bent down and took me into his mouth!

"You don't have to do that, Mason, it's … oh, damn!" I gasped.

"Sorry, sir," the boy paused, "I'm not very good at it. I don't get much practice at home."

"Why not?"

"Master's afraid I'll bite it, sir," Mason explained. "And I… if I did, I'd get sent to…"

"Just get back to work, son," I encouraged him, and Mason did that. While he wasn't nearly as good as Zach, he was good enough. I soon climaxed, but Mason kept on 'keeping on' and brought me off again. I admit, I needed it!

"Was it OK, sir?" he then asked shyly.

"It was very good, son," I told him, and I wasn't lying. "Mason, is your plug in?" I asked, and he nodded. "Get up and bend over." He did that, and I took it out. Mason dutifully took it to the bathroom and washed it. He was walking funny when he came back, obviously not used to it being out of him. He looked confused. I told him to go and get Zach's small travel kit, something that Collins had put together for us. I took a chance that it would work when he got back – Zach's pod key looked as if it would work, and it did.

Mason Devereaux froze. His eyes were wide, and he trembled as I removed his pod. He didn't look down. He clenched his eyes shut and whimpered. "No, sir, please!" He choked, "He'll find out! He'll punish me, bad, sir! I can't! You can't, sir! Please, no!"

"Mason, look at it," I told him. The boy's cock was tightly circumcised, just as Raulito had been. There was no frenum, and the veins of his impressive member stood out clearly. The head swelled like a wet purple mushroom, and he was, fully erect, just as large as a grown man. Probably still growing, too. Beneath it hung a smooth scrotum, smooth as silk, containing two very ample balls. It was a thing of beauty, locked away and wasted, I thought.

I held him tightly, until the shaking stopped. Confident that Collins couldn't have gotten this flat bugged yet, as he'd not been there alone and I'd not found anything, I was sure I could guarantee the boy's safety.

"He won't let me, sir," Mason fretted, still not looking and shaking his head. Those long black loose curls smelled of a floral shampoo, and they were so shiny and soft.

"Mason, you will look at it, now, boy!" I ordered him.

He opened his eyes and gasped.

"You're hung like a bull moose, kiddo," I told him. Were moose really large, though? I didn't know, but it sounded good.

Mason just stared at himself. For the first time in seven years, he was looking at his own genitals. I guess I'd just undone all the 'work' that his Master had been trying to do, and I relished that thought. If he loved the boy, then why was he so cruel to him?

But wasn't that it? Didn't Devereaux love him? Perhaps he really did. I had to try it.

"You know, Mason," I explained, while he just stared, unsure of what to do next, "Your Master loves you. He bought you, because he was afraid that your stepdad would sell you to someone very bad. He loved you from the first time he saw you." I paused, to let him digest it. "Where he went wrong, though, was that he thought that since you had a gay gene marker, that you'd like what he wanted to do. He didn't give you enough time to adapt to being his slaveboy, and he hurt you in doing so. He didn't want to do that, Mason. He wanted to train you in the best way that he knew how, because he loved you. But it didn't work, and all he did was make you hate him, isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir," Mason whispered, still just staring at himself. His hands hadn't moved.

"So here you both are, him wanting to take care of you and give you the best life he knows how, but you reject every move he makes, right?" Mason nodded. "All he gives you is love, patiently, for seven years, and all he gets in return is hate and derision? Mason," I dug in, "If Zach did that me, I think it would kill me. You see, I'm training him, and taking care of him, in the only way I know how. It's just like your Master did with you. And while I don't claim to understand all of it, I understand why he did it – because it's all he knows. Just like how I treat Zach is all I know. While I can understand some of the things that your extended family of Masters and slaves thinks is right, I don't agree with all of them. I think it's horrible that they keep you drained, and won't let you cum. You're in the prime of your sexual life, child. And you are a child, Mason. You might think that Devereaux stole your childhood from you, but all he was trying to do was give you one that he thought would be better. Maybe even one like he had? You never know, but you can ask. Can you really hate him for that?"

Mason Devereaux cried again.

He never tried to touch himself. In fact, his erection went down as he leaned into me and sobbed.

"You want to love him, don't you?" I pressed it, hoping that I could break this particular problem that was causing them both so much pain. "It's torture to live your life without loving anyone, or thinking that no one loves you, boy. But until you open up, Mason, all that love is just going to keep turning to hate, poisoning your body and soul. Even though he won't let you even see this beautiful manhood of yours, you can still have pleasure in other ways. You can still be loved."

"B-but he h-hurts m-me… ." Mason sobbed. "A-and he l-leaves me!"

There was a clue that I could seize upon.

"Because the poison that's in you, son, is beginning to affect him," I explained. "Mason, what if your Master gives up on you? It's been seven years of fighting you, kid, and you'd bring a handsome price on the market! They'd pay millions for a beautiful boy like you!"

He looked right at me. "I… I'm b-beautiful?" He choked.

God, how could he NOT KNOW this?!

"You are, child," I repeated. "Women, girls, men, and gay boys of all ages adore boys like you. Your life could be a hell of a lot worse, you know. Think about what Raulito's in for? Think about what those other poor boys like Zach at the Clearing House are in for. Think about what those road crewmen and boys are in for. Don't throw this away, Mason. There's no reason you can't be as happy as Henry, or Sebbie or Cory."

He snorted. "Cory's a nut," he mumbled.

"Cory is loved, and he loves back," I reminded him. "To him, he doesn't care if he has to be a slaveboy. Mark tells him he loves him, and Cory believes it. And trust me, Cory loves Mark with all of his little heart." I let him cry it out a bit more, watching the boy break right there in my lap. His sobs choked him, and he shook so badly that I feared he'd hurt his ribs again. He had to be in pain from it, and I felt like crying with him. For just a moment, I did, as I stroked his hair and tried to assure him it would be all right.

"What if, Mason, what if someday you're all grown up and your Master frees you? What if you meet up with some poor little boy in a mess like you were in? Will you be able to love him, then? Or will you just let some monster get him, like your Master saved you from?"

"Y-you really th-think he loves m-me? R-r-really?"

I had to make him believe it. If nothing else, I at least had to make him believe that someone loved him, and it wasn't going to be a lie.

"Mason, there is not one single person a few floors up right now that does not love you. You're more than a sextoy, kid. You're part of a family," I went on, and with that came more understanding on my part, too. We were part of a family – a family that had long since had to hide its love in the darkness, but one that could now walk in the light without fear. "And that little boy in there," I pointed to Zach's door, "simply adores you! With all he's been through, Mason, I swear, Zach doesn't know how to hate. I bet even told you he loves you, when you went to bed? How bad does your Daddy, do you think, want to hear those words from you?"

THAT did it.

Seven years of fear and hatred finally broke. Mason cried so hard, that through his sobs he begged me for something for his hurting ribs. Mason's suitcase had a first aid kit in it, and there was a small injection marked for such. In fact, it was enough of a drug called 'morphinox-8' to take down a baby elephant! I gave him one quarter of it.

After a few minutes, he calmed. His eyes grew glassy, but he was still awake. His breathing slowed, and he looked back down at his flaccid member. "Thank, Uncle Don," he whispered, snuggling up against me. I didn't correct him. It wasn't the time. "My luck, my pod's finally off, and the drug causes impotency."

"Uh-Uncle?" Zach's voice called from behind us. I'd not even heard him come in. Mason's sobs must have awakened him. "What's'a'May-sun?" He slurred his words, rubbing his eyes.

"He had a nightmare, baby," I told him, motioning for him to come sit. "But he'll be OK now."

Zach sat in my lap, and he leaned over and kissed his friend. He patted his hand, then saw that his pod was off. "Dat hurt?"

"Yeah, it's OK, Z," Mason assured him, sniffling. "Uncle fixed it."

Zach looked at me with those pleading eyes of his, the face you just couldn't say 'no' to. I nodded. He bent over and took Mason's penis in his warm little mouth. Mason gasped and started, but I pushed him back into the cushions and reassuringly rubbed his chest. His nipples were hard, and he closed his eyes. I could see that he was getting only half-erect, probably dizzy as the drug lowered his blood pressure, but Zach kept working on him. It didn't take long, and Zach dutifully went about the work he was so famous for. He brought Mason off again, a second time, and only half erect. He didn't stop until the boy spasmed one more time, and when Zach pulled off of him, he was limp.

In case you've never had a flaccid ejaculation and orgasm, it's something, I can tell you.

"Oh, God!" Mason gasped, crying softly again, as the sensations of his first-ever blowjob carried him off to somewhere.

"Hurt?" Zach fretted.

"No, buddy," Mason hugged him close, "No. I love you, Zach," he whimpered.

"I told you so," I reminded him.

And with that, Mason drifted off to sleep on sofa. I covered him and left him there, hopefully to dream something that all teenage boys should dream of. I took Zach to my bed, and cuddled him until he fell asleep in my arms.

***

The next morning, Zach woke his friend up in the best way you could. He was sucking him off again when the older boy woke up. One devastating orgasm later, and I sent them both off to the bath with a smirk. Mason returned a minute later, wet and soapy, and hugged me. He didn't say a thing, standing there in all of naked glory without even the pod. He just smiled.

It was like the sun coming up.

When they were done, Mason insisted that I put his pod back on. He was scared to death that someone would find out, even though I assured him that we wouldn't tell. Then he asked to borrow my phone. He punched in a number, then waited.

"HELLO?" the voice of Devereaux sounded foggy. "Gad, what time is it? What's… Don?! What's wrong? Is Mason all right?" He came to. Wherever he was, it must have been late there.

"Daddy?" Mason whimpered, holding the phone to his face and hitting the 'video' button. "D-daddy, it's Mason! I'm so sorry! Please come home!" He started to cry again.

"Mason, what's happened boy? Is everything all right?" Devereaux demanded, the fear evident in his voice. "Why are you using Don's phone? Where's Sebastian?"

But Mason couldn't talk. He handed me the phone.

"Your son needs you, Devereaux. Badly. Get here as soon as you can. Where are you?" I told him bluntly.

"Tunisia," he replied. "I've just closed a big deal. Don? What's… is he…? I don't know what Sebastian might have said, but…"

"He's not all right, Dev," I cut him off. "He's broken."

"I'll be on the next flight!" Devereaux replied. "Don?"

"Yes?"

"How? How did you do it, Don?"

I looked at the two boys. Zach was trying to comfort his friend again, holding him, babbling as best he could that it was OK to cry. Then it came to me. You'd have to be a fool to believe that they'd gone to bed without talking, at least on the way down. Slaves or not, boys are boys.

"Zero did it," I said. "Come back to him, Dev," I repeated. "Your son needs you."

"M-my son?" he breathed.

Then an incoming call interrupted us.

"Don, where the hell are you lot?" Collins demanded. "It's time for breakfast, or did you cook?"

My bacon was burning. Zach yelped and ran to it, throwing it in the sink in a cloud of smoke and steam. "SHIT!" He yelled. So he'd learned a new word!

"We'll be up in a bit, I've wrecked breakfast." I told him, and that seemed to satisfy him.

"Who was that?" Dev asked.

"Collins, wanting to know where we were."

"Fuck him," Dev replied, sounding giddy.

"Not on your life!" I replied, as the boys headed for their private little lift.

"He called me 'Daddy'?" Dev then realized with a start.

Then he closed the connection.

***

I decided not to share this surprise with Collins. Besides, he was too intrigued with Raulito to care about much else. We found them all in the kitchen, with Sebbie just serving breakfast. I sent Zach and Mason to gear up, trusting that they'd get it right unsupervised, and took in the sight.

The boys were setting the table, and a groggy Cory had a dumb look on his face. So did Sebbie. Raulito didn't, though.

The new boy was standing in the corner, his arms held crossed horizontally behind his back at the small of it, I saw, as Collins ordered him to turn. A strap from his belt to his collar held them in place, and his gag was still in place. His penis was flaccid, and looked awful. It was inflamed, swollen, and looked like it must have felt on fire. His catheter was hanging freely, the drain plugged, and his feet were held apart by a short crossbar that was sure to make walking very difficult. He was looking straight ahead and right at us, his collar allowing no head movement. I saw that Collins had already pre-inked the tattoo templates on him with a marker. The word SLAVE was going to be across his chest in large block letters that were going to cover his nipples with the "S" and "E". There was also a newly pierced ring in his navel, and I could imagine his PA being connected to it to hold his raw penis up. There was also a heavy metal ring about the top of his scrotum, pulling his plump balls downwards.

He might not have been able to talk, but his eyes said enough.

Just as Mason had predicted, it wasn't going to take long for Raulito to break.

"Don, so good of you to join us!" Collins greeted us.

"Sorry, I was trying to burn your building down, but Zach saved it," I told him, just as they arrived, all geared up and ready to start their day.

Mason paused by Collins' chair and bowed. "I'm sorry, sir. For everything," he said softly. Then he hugged him and kissed his cheek. Then he sat quietly on the floor, wincing a little.

Collins dropped his fork and stared.

"What did you do to him?" He pointed down at Mason, looking as if he'd been smacked instead of kissed.

"Trade secret," I shrugged, as Zach sat on the floor and leaned on my leg. "How's he gonna eat?" I pointed at Raulito.

My answer came when we were all done. Sebbie put a slave loaf on a saucer, on the floor, and removed Raulito's gag. The boy was forced to nibble it like a dog, until it was gone. He must have been hungry, to eat one of those things! Then his gag went back in, after a large glass of water to wash it down.

"Take him to the quiet room now, Sebbie," Collins ordered.

"Yes, SIR!" Sebbie snapped, and out they went.

"I think it's beginning to sink in," Collins observed, sneaking nervous glances at Mason. "You left him loose all night?"

"He's a very nice boy," I replied. "Oh, and Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"You're not draining him anymore. Leave him alone. You'll see why very soon. In about eleven hours, I'll wager."

"You're his guardian," Collins shrugged, finishing his eggs and juice. "How's his rib?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I suggested.

Collins raised an eyebrow, but did that.

"It hurts some, sir. I think it didn't set good, sir," Mason replied with a smile. "But thanks for taking care of it, Master."

"Is he on drugs?" Collins wondered.

"I gave him a bit for the pain," I replied honestly. "He cried last night. Hard."

And that was all that needed to be said. As a doctor, Collins knew how hard he must have cried to aggravate his rib injury.

"Boys, off to class," Collins then dismissed them. "Mason, come with me. Does it hurt very bad, boy?"

***

It was back to business as usual. I discovered that I could move the image from Zach's data dump if I touched it, and eventually, the computer assembled some of it into what seemed to be a movie. It was blocky and compressed, but it showed a pair of little brown hands writing what might have been homework in some unintelligible language that the computer couldn't identify. Every now and then, the view would change to the wall, the plants, or the sky. After a while, those little hands moved, and picked up a plate of food. Rice, steamed vegetables of some kind, and a small bit of bread. Fascinated, I watched it for hours until Zach came to tell me it was time for lunch.

He sighed and looked at the screen. "Home," he said mournfully, and I knew that the story about his grandfather dying had to be a lie. Sometimes, the view had changed as I watched it. Black people, much darker than Zach, came and went in and out of his field of vision. That was what I was seeing – a video record, dumped from the chip in his brain, of his life.

Was it possible that his entire memory had been compressed and duplicated into a computer? If so, then all we had to do was play it as the computer compiled it, and we could know the truth.

Then I realized we might have fifteen years worth of video to watch!

Merde.

Still, it was unprecedented. If it were true, then Zach's implant was the ultimate interface between man and machine. Theoretically, everything that he knew, everything that he'd learned, might be stored on that ever-growing chip in his head, and most of it on Collins' old computer network. I thought about Cyborg's limbs. Hell yes, it was possible. Cy's brain and limbs had to communicate, doing so across the chips that touched nerves in a layer of monoatomic gold. I made a note to try and scan him again. While he was talking better, learning so much in school with the boys, my concern was that the chip was still growing. I just didn't know how it could be.

I adjusted the volume. There came a babble of language. "Computer, translate!" I gasped.

"Unable to comply. Language unknown."

"Search Kore of Lamu, extinct languages."

"Language not found in database," the computer replied. "The Kore of Lamu lived in Somalia, and have adapted to speak…"

"I know, I know!"

BEEP!

"Computer, are there any known studies, speakers, or university work on this language?"

The computer worked. It sent out thousands of requests online. I waited.

"Negative. That language has been extinct too long. There are no known archives."

"Zero speaks it," I mumbled. "Someone else in this video speaks it."

The computer froze, flickered, then came back on. "Compiling data, video file Kabila Z005-06-152-18-22-03."

The movie went on. A young black boy's face, he must have been about five or six, filled the screen. He was bald, with a metal slave collar around his neck. He babbled something.

"Patterns indicate intelligence," the computer reported.

"Five," I mused.

"There are four massive data blocks with signatures time stamped before this one," the computer reported.

That was it.

The file name was a time code! I was seeing a moment in Zach's life from when he was five years old, six months, 152 days, etc.! Right down to the second. I watched as the blacker boy took his empty plate, smiled, and then got up to go. He was also naked, and it looked as if Zach had just sat and watched him. He looked healthy enough; a servant, perhaps?

Kabila.

The name made me shiver. That family had been running parts of, and now all of, Africa since the late 20th century. And not all of their history had been pretty. I ordered the computer to search for dialog, and try to compile a translation matrix. Unfortunately, it had no idea what it was 'looking at' in the video stream. To it, it was just a video codec running 1' and 0's.

Zero.

If the computer couldn't build a database of words, maybe Zero… Zach… could? "I don't think he knew English, sir," Sebbie had theorized.

These boys were geniuses!

"Master Don, sir?" Sebbie's voice then called. Talk about creepy. Speak of the Devil? "Sir, it's nearly dinner time? Are you OK, Master?"

"Sebbie, I love you boys, did you know?"

"Really, sir?!" Sebbie gasped. "Shall I call my father? Are you ill, sir?"

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