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Related article: Date: Thu, 7 Apr 2011 17:32:14 -0700 (PDT) From: Christian Debus Subject: "Changed Circumstances" Chapter 19 Gay Male/AuthoritarianCHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES A Sequel to 'A Reversal of Fortune'Chapter 19: "The Gardens" This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen yearsWritten by Jean-Christophe (Chris) "To see all my stories go to"Chapter 19: "The Gardens"I've always loved these gardens. They were my late grandmother's pride and joy and she had lavished much love and unstinting effort in establishing and maintaining them. When she married my grandfather all those years ago, both the house and its gardens were best described as "run down". She immediately took it upon herself to restore them to their former glory.My grandfather was deeply in love with his new wife and he could deny her nothing. He'd given her "carte blanche" in renovating the rather tired house and had actively encouraged her in re- establishing the long, neglected gardens. Money was no object and he'd personally searched among all the city's slave-dealers looking for suitable slaves with a background in horticulture and gardening. By judicious selection, he assembled a team of skilled slaves whose only task it was to bring the grounds back to their former glory thus complementing the colonial grandeur of the dilapidated mansion.My grandmother personally supervised all aspects of the house renovations and the replanting of the spacious grounds. It was she who chose the decor and furnishings for the house and it was she who designed the flower-beds, the shrubberies and selected the trees that now give the grounds an appearance of a mature, botanical gardens.My grandfather -always proud of his wife's achievements - often told me how in those early days, my grandmother spent her days supervising both the renovators in the house and her team of garden slaves as they worked industriously under her firm direction. From all accounts, she was a demanding task-mistress and in her enthusiasm she drove the slaves hard. If she wasn't satisfied with either their efforts or their results she never hesitated to refer lesbian swimsuit models them to my grandfather for punishment. teenie models board I gather from his words that he was indulgent of her and could deny her nothing.I have seen the "before" photos taken at the time my grandmother embarked on her ambitious plans for both the house and its gardens and it has to be said her efforts were remarkable. Of course, it wasn't a quick project and it took some years to reach fruition. But, I only ever remember the house and gardens as they are now.The grand, white painted, two storied colonial mansion sits on top of a small knoll and overlooks the surrounding suburbs. It was this small hill which inspired my grandmother to rename the house "Jolimont" which is French for pretty mount. My grandmother was proud of her French heritage and spoke the language fluently and she insisted that I did so too. Like her, I am proficient in both English and French and she always encouraged me to be proud of my French, Barrois ancestry.The gardens were a source of wonderment for me during my childhood. They were my playground and my world. How many times did I "roll" down the gentle, verdant slopes of the lawns to make myself giddy? How many times did I play "horsey" mounted naked models videos on the shoulders of some young slave and gallop him along the maze of tree-lined pathways until he was exhausted? The slaves toiling in the garden refused me nothing; I was the "young Master" and they were fearful of offending me.As I rode my steed, I saw myself as many things; sometimes I was a cowboy chasing after stampeding cattle or as a highwayman fleeing from capture. My imagination was limitless as I enthusiastically dug my heels into my "pony's" side or whipped his ass with a makeshift whip car model girl to make him run faster.Eventually the day came when I could no longer sit astride a slave's shoulders and I put aside my childish games for more mature pursuits. I had just entered puberty and my body was awash with my raging hormones and my emerging sense of identity. Now I watched as the slaves toiled in the gardens and the sight of their strong, naked bodies both excited me and confused me. I liked nothing better than to look upon their sweaty nakedness and watch the play of their powerful muscles flexing and rippling as they bent to their labours.Soon I found leslie teen model myself visiting the gardens every young chil models day to slowly stroll along the shady paths and stopping from russian teenage model time to time to surreptitiously observe the slaves at their labours. Of particular interest to me were the lawnmowers and the slaves who provided their motive power. How I grew to love these unique machines.I have stated previously that nude amateur models my grandfather eschewed modern machinery in favour of slave labour. He much preferred to use the raw, muscle power of a slave more than an internal combustion machine. And so it was with our lawnmowers. They were designed by him and made to his specifications adult model teen and each was to be pulled by a strongly built slave.There are four such mowers although, for the majority of the year, only two are used. The other two are brought out and used in the springtime when the lawns are in full kid model growth or used as reserves should the others break down.Today there are two in action and I am harnessed to one of them.Early this morning-just before sunrise- Norge and I were woken by a now naked Cato and his groom assistants and prepared for our day's labours. Both of us were put into harnesses; Norge for his duties as our Master's pony and I for my new role as a beast-of-burden to pull one of the two lawn- mowers.My harness is identical to the one worn by Norge; it is comprised of two, wide, leather straps which fit over my shoulders and drape down both the front and back of my upper body to waist-height. Additionally, there are two horizontal straps which buckle tightly around both my chest and waist moulding the harness firmly into the contours of my upper body. Then I and the other slave, who was to share in the lawn mowing duties with me, were led out on to the lawns and fastened by our harnesses between the shafts of our respective mowers.It was a particularly humiliating experience for me to stand like some dumb, submissive animal as Cato attached my body harness to the shafts by short lengths of chain. frree young models Thus fastened, I was then ordered to grasp a shaft firmly in each hand as he used iron manacles to fasten my wrists to them.That is how a slave provides the motive power for the lawn mowers which were so cleverly designed by my late grandfather. The unfortunate slave uses both his hands and the forward thrust of his body to move the mower. Of course to work effectively -and to provide a smoothly cut sward of velvet like lawn-the rotor blades needs to be kept at a constant speed. Today, I'm to find that building up to and maintaining that speed is much harder than one would think.The slave must pull really hard to reach the required speed and then to work diligently to keep it constant. It is for this reason that once started; the mowers aren't stopped until the end of the day. There are no rest periods for the slaves and all water breaks are taken on the move.I'd always admired my grandfather's ingenuity in designing these mowers and I took pride in the fact they are both energy efficient and non-polluting in that they use muscle power rather than our limited, fossil fuels. Indeed my grandfather was so pleased with them, he'd patented their design and had one of our many companies manufacture them for sale to the general public. They proved extremely popular and can now be found in use all over the country. Even today, they are still a source of great profit to the Barrois-correction-Maratier family fortunes.Today, my admiration for them will turn to hatred. By day's end, I will see them for what they really are-instruments of jerk off model pain and torment.I strain into my harness and pull. It is a constant "tug-of-war" between the forward thrust of my body and the resisting, counter-weight of the mower. My body inclines forward and every muscle in my upper body is under stress in an effort to keep the blades of the mower rotating at the required speed. My lungs gulp greedily for prettens models forum the oxygen to fuel the engine of my body and my aching, stretched legs are the pistons that drive it forward. My perspective of the lawnmowers is now very different to the one I'd held as a free man.I gaze across the lawns-they now seem so much bigger than I previously remember- and see in the distance the shady tree under which I'd spent so much time as a youth. I'd had a table and bench built there ostensibly as a place where I could sit and study in quiet solitude-at least that's what I'd told my grandparents-but my real reason was to watch the toiling slaves.I found watching the slaves as they worked to be highly erotic; it titillated by burgeoning sexuality and was highly arousing. Most of the time my cock was rock hard. In my shyness I took great pains to hide my very obvious erection from my body slave by sitting at the table and pretending to study my text books; by keeping "it" under the table so to speak. Eventually, I was to overcome this early "shyness" and not worry too much if the slave saw me in my aroused state.However there were some potentially embarrassing times when my grandfather visited me as I "studied" under the tree. I never knew he understood my reasons for spending so much time there and sympathised with my youthful lust. In my youthful ignorance I'd never once thought he'd also been a young man subject to the same urges and desires I felt. Nor did it occur to me that, even as an older man, he could still appreciate the beauty and sheer physicality of a naked, male slave sweating under the sun. If I'd taken the trouble to notice, I'd have seen there were even occasions when my grandfather also shared my "delight".This morning it is me who sweats and strains to keep my mower moving and watching from the cool shade of "my" tree is my Mistress, Charlotte Maratier. She had discovered my little nook while on an exploratory stroll through the gardens with Cato and had stopped to rest at the table where once I'd studied. She was quickly enamoured of the spot and had sent back to the house for a slave to attend her with refreshments. Now she sits as a naked Cato stands before her ready to receive his instructions.I estimate the time to be mid-morning-how I miss my watch and the ability to know precisely what time it is-and I wonder about Cato's thoughts. If I'm correct about the time, then it is only two hours until his and Marv's canings. My Master has set midday as the designated hour and has arranged his affairs so he'll be in attendance. He has also organised for Major Swanston and his major domo to be present. Immediately after Cato has caned Marv it is this major domo who will cane Cato. He is a big, leslie teen model strong, brutish slave and I have seen his "handiwork" on occasions in the past. I know he model bianca christians doesn't "hold back" in using the cane and I do feel some degree of sympathy for Cato.Never-the-less there is also a sense of satisfaction in knowing Cato is to feel the same pain he'd inflicted on me. I am to witness the canings; our Master has ordered all his slaves to assemble in the courtyard at midday to watch the punishments of the two slaves and that of course includes me. I wonder if Charlotte Maratier will attend and watch Cato's humiliation or will she consider it "beneath" her. It bikini model porn will be interesting to see.Already this morning, Cato has been humiliated by female porn models our Mistress. Immediately after breakfast he'd been sent off to the neighbours with the invitations to attend our Master's soiree tomorrow evening. The neighbours are aware of Cato's existence and on the rare occasions when they'd had contact with him, he would have been clothed in his customary tunic. However today, he'd arrived at their front doors slave-naked and I can only imagine at their surprise seeing him like this and of his shame as he stood before them. How humiliating it must have been for the once proud and indulged slave to have to stand silently as their curious gazes swept over his nude body?Now he stands before Charlotte- beneath my tree -and receives her instructions for the running of the household and what she frree young models requires to be done for tomorrow evening's function.For my part, I give of my best in pulling the heavy mower across the lawns. Apart from the birdsong and the busy buzzing of insects, the only other sounds to disturb the morning's calm are my laboured breathing and the soft 'tic-tic-tic" of the rotating, mower blades as I move inexorably forward.The tight-fitting harness cuts into my shoulders and they ache from the strain placed upon them by the dead weight of the mower. My legs are leaden and it requires much effort on my part to put one heavy foot in front of the other. My chest heaves and my stomach bellows in and out from my exertions. I'm shamefully aware my balls are hanging low in the day's heat and swing freely between my straining legs whilst my partially erect cock waves from side to side like a metronome keeping time with my steps. But most humiliatingly, the straining forward into my body harness places undue stress upon my ass-hole which feels it has been stretched wide open to public scrutiny.My body is an open invitation to the many types of insects who live in the gardens; flies young chil models swarm over me feasting on my sweat , mosquitoes bite me and my feet stir up myriads of tiny midges who live at ground level; they classic packard models rise in small, black clouds and settle all over me. They enter my eyes, my open mouth and my nostrils and no amount of head shaking will dislodge them; their persistence is annoying in the extreme. They cover my legs and genitals and I feel their irritating presence in the deep cleft of my buttocks. I have suffered them for four hours and I estimate there are still two hours remaining before I am unfastened and kiki leeds model taken to the courtyard to witness Marv's and Cato's chastisements. Can I endure that long?Sweat trickles down my body in ever-flowing rivulets but I'm not allowed to pause not even to replace this water loss. Once started the mowers aren't allowed to stop. Periodically, another slave will bring young chil models a water container to me and place a nozzle and tube in my mouth and through which I am able to satisfy my burning thirst as I keep the mower rolling. Cool water has never tasted so good; for a thirsty slave it truly is "nectar from the gods".I am stricken with conscience. For all the years I had "enjoyed" watching my slaves pull the mowers over the verdant sweep of my grandmother's lawns, I'd not once considered their discomfiture. Now I have an appreciation of their misery and suffering and I am deeply shamed by my callous indifference to their plight.As a free man I'd thoughtlessly used and abused my slaves; profiting from their labours and enjoying the delights of their bodies. That was my due as their Master and my rights over them were enshrined in law. For them there wasn't any other recourse but to accept what I demanded of them. When issuing an order to a slave, amateur xxx model I'd never considered whether or not he wanted to do as I commanded; that was irrelevant. My will always prevailed. A Master commands and a slave gives unquestioning obedience. That is the true nature of slavery.Now I'm a slave and my world has been turned upside down. My suffering of the past two days- and the further suffering I must undergo as I am branded and skinned- have opened my children modeling xxx eyes to the cruel iniquities of slavery. If all free men suffered but a fraction of what I classic packard models have suffered then, there is no doubt in my mind that slavery would cease to exist. But this won't happen and it will endure in its awfulness for as long as greedy men stand to thoughtlessly profit from the labours of others. That is human nature.I lesbian swimsuit models look over to the far edge of the lawns to where my fellow slave is pulling his mower and I wonder about his thoughts. Is he actively thinking or is his mind a blank? What do slaves think about bikini model porn as they labour? Do they reminisce about past lives now lost to them or do they simply "shut down" and close their minds to the horrors they must now endure?At first, when I'd been harnessed to my mower, all my concentration had been centred on getting the mower started and keeping it rolling at the required speed for the effective cutting of the grass. I am on an "honour system" and I am expected to "pull my weight". At some stage Cato is to check on my progress and if he is dissatisfied with my efforts then he is to report back to my Master who will decide if I'm to be punished. Fearful of further punishment, I apply myself diligently to my task and I ask myself-is what I'm doing good enough?My labours have reduced me to the level of a beast-of-burden. I'm reminded of a strong ox yoked lesbian swimsuit models to a plough plodding along in docile obedience to its handler. I feel an affinity with that ox as I too plod along in dumb subservience. And like the ox if I need to urinate, I can't stop to relieve myself; I just piss as I pull. Even now, despite my profuse sweating, my bladder is full to capacity. However my pride prevents me from voiding it so publicly. Beginning at one end of the lawn's vastness, I pull my mower to the opposite end taking great care to keep the cut width straight and even for I know I will be judged on that. Inevitably I reach the other end and must then turn around and position my mower for the return cut. This then is the nature of my day's work.I try to relieve the sheer boredom of my labours by thinking of other things. At first I think of all that has happened to me over the past two days. I become depressed and my eyes fill with tears. Then I think of the words spoken by Norge last night when he'd advised me to accept my "changed circumstances". Once more, I see the wisdom of those words and I change my thoughts to us. Today, I am classic packard models like Norge; I too am in harness and I think of the day when I will be harnessed alongside of him for the first time. The thought of this eases my troubled mind and gladdens my heart.I approach the edge of the lawn nearest to "my" tree and I see my Mistress and Cato looking in my direction. Although out of earshot, I know I'm the subject of their discussion and the focus of their attention.Cato approaches and viciously swipes his cane across my ass. I cry out in pain and I adult model teen see Charlotte Maratier smiling at my discomfort. Apparently bra teen models she has been watching me and is dissatisfied with my efforts. She has ordered Cato to walk alongside of me and to use his cane to encourage me to 11yo model pics pull harder and faster.Once more I feel the bite of Cato's cane cutting across my ass as I turn my mower around and begin the return journey to the far end of the lawn. The sudden shock of Cato's caning causes me to lose control of my full bladder and despite my best efforts, I piss myself. Shamefaced, I look to see if my Mistress has prettens models forum noticed and I'm mortified to see that she has; her smile of triumph at this ultimate humiliation of me tells me this is a moment she is savouring. I ask myself how much more debasement I must suffer before she is satisfied. Will nothing quell her desire for revenge?Cato now walks by my side and he "encourages" me along every step of the way.As I feel the cruel cuts of his cane, I lose all sympathy for Cato and know I will take great delight in witnessing his caning.Behind me I hear Charlotte Maratier's malevolent chuckling.Oh! How I hate that woman! To be continued....
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