The Bezistan Chronicles
Chapter 5: Geoff's Pet

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over
the age of eighteen years

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): October, 2009.
An archive of my stories can be found at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

"The characters and ideas contained in this story are the
writer's and shouldn't be used without permission. Please respect
the integrity of the story and don't do rewrites, alterations or
add pictures."

Chapter 5: "Geoff's Pet"

I am known as `slave'!

My name used to be Aindrias, now however I'm simply referred to
as `slave'. However, in my secret thoughts, I still think of
myself by my given name. But, I'm always very careful to refer to
myself as `slave' in front of my fellow slaves and our overseers.
To do otherwise would be unacceptable to my owner, Prince Rashid,
who has decreed that all his slaves shall remain nameless.

When I was younger, I used to wonder why this was so, but as I
grew older and gained some understanding, I came to realise this
was done, quite deliberately, to dehumanise us. Without a name,
we are no longer individuals; we are mere beasts-of-burden. That
is how our Master views all his slaves and indeed, that is how we
slaves see ourselves.

I don't know my age or for how long I've been a slave. If I was
aware of time, I would realise that I'm in my nineteenth year.
But I don't know this. As a slave, time isn't of any consequence
to me. I know only the dull monotony of its passing - today is
the same as yesterday and tomorrow promises to be the same as
today - with the days stretching into months and the months into
years. As with all slaves, any concept of time has no relevance
to my life.

I bitterly remember the occasion when both my father, a Greek
fisherman and I, a young teenager, were enslaved; although I
can't remember the circumstances of our enslavement.  I vividly
recall being brought to this isolated estate somewhere in the
Middle East and being presented to our new owner, Prince Rashid.
I still recall the humiliation and shame I felt as he examined
our naked bodies for the first time and the utter terror that
overwhelmed me as he ordered my father to be cruelly flogged for
disobedience. Those moments - and our subsequent branding - are
fixed indelibly in my consciousness.

After our branding, we were sent to the stables; my father to be
trained as a human pony and I as a stable hand. I lost my father
that day; indeed I was to learn that family relationships aren't
allowed between slaves. Our Master strictly forbids them and
insists that his slaves should focus all their attention on him
and his needs.

As we began our separate lives as slaves, I watched, at a
distance, as my father's resistance was broken down and he became
the docile animal that he remains as to this today. When fully
trained, he was assigned to pull the rickshaw of Geoffrey
Myles-Lytton, the English estate manager and close friend of my
Master. In the stables, I was given the duties of a stable-boy.

In my ignorance, I wondered why my father was condemned to such a
demeaning existence. At that time, I didn't understand my
Master's attitude to his slaves.

Later, I was to learn that he has the Arab's inherent fondness
for horses and regards them with great affection. He would never
debase such noble creatures by using them to haul his carriages
and drays around the estate. From his perspective, slaves are
better suited to perform these baser tasks.

My Master has many fine, thoroughbred horses of various breeds
and he takes great pride in his ownership of them. They are his
pets and he lavishes much love on them. These pampered creatures
are housed in palatial, air conditioned stables where they are
fed the finest fodder and are groomed by an army of slaves who
cater to their every need.

By comparison, the human ponies and we grooms are stabled in more
austere surroundings, without the comfort of air conditioning and
where we exist on a bland, unsatisfying diet of specially
formulated food designed to keep us fit, lean and healthy. This
disparity between the treatment of his horses and his slaves
reflects my Master's complete contempt and disdain for us.

At first, I considered my life as a stable slave to be hard;
although I subsequently found there are other slaves on the
estate whose existence is much bleaker than my own. When I first
commenced work in the stables, my duties were determined by my
youth and included keeping the large number of traps and
carriages used by my master clean and in running order and
ensuring that the ornate harness sets worn by the ponies were
always polished and sparkling. My other duties included `mucking
out' the ponies' stalls and the spreading of fresh, straw bedding
for them.

During this period, the overseer's cane was my ever vigilant
teacher and under its tutelage I became a quick learner.

As I grew older and my body developed, I progressed through the
ranks until finally, fully matured, I joined a select band of
stable slaves - the senior grooms. It was here that I found a
small degree of pleasure.

Together with the other senior grooms, I am responsible for the
care of the ponies; we grooms exist to serve their needs. We are
woken while it is still dark and our first task is to clean and
prepare our bodies for the new day.

Then, in the predawn light, we feed and water the ponies before
leading them out to an area adjacent to the composting pits where
we wait patiently for them to relieve themselves. After that, we
take them to the ablution block and prepare them for their day's
duties.

Once they are tethered in place, we first of all hose them down
with cold water, wetting their bodies prior to body shaving,
soaping them, and scrubbing them clean. Faris, the Stable-Master
is very fastidious in insisting that the ponies `sparkle and
shine' and he will subject them to close scrutiny before they are
harnessed; any slackness on the part of a groom is rewarded with
two strokes of the cane.

We grooms have our favourite ponies that we choose to work on. I
never work on my former father; even after all this time I still
have a residual respect for him. My current favourites are two
Australian ponies recently acquired by my master.

I overheard a conversation between Faris and one of his
assistants and learned that they were once brothers before their
enslavement. They are so alike that they could easily be mistaken
for twins; but they are not. Formerly known as Liam and Patrick,
they are aged twenty-one and nineteen respectively.

When I first saw them, I was strangely attracted to them.
Standing at just over six feet and evenly matched at
approximately 85 to 90 kilograms, they are heavily muscled and
possess magnificent physiques. With their blond hair and blue
eyes, they stand out from the other ponies that have darker
complexions and hair. Being black-haired and olive-skinned
myself, I suppose it is this unique colouring that attracts me to
them.

Unusually, they still retain their body hair, unlike all the
other ponies that are smooth-bodied. Their muscular limbs are
dusted with a golden down that gleams against the deep, brown of
their skin.  Their powerful chests have an attractive covering of
hair that matches that on their blond, cropped heads and
intriguingly, for me, each has a delightful line of slightly
darker hair trailing down the centre line of his muscled belly to
his thick, golden pubes. For some reason not explained to us
grooms, Faris has allowed them to keep this hair.

Strangely, since their arrival, Faris has taken a personal
interest in these two slaves. He has personally broken them into
harness and taught them all the Arabic commands a pony needs to
know and how they are required to respond to these commands. He
has reserved them for his personal use and they spend all day
harnessed to his trap waiting to deliver him to whatever part of
the estate he needs to travel to. This is unusual; in the past he
has only ever used whatever ponies were available to him at the
time he required them. Although there's a Spanish pony that he
favours and uses frequently. However, it is almost as though
Faris has higher plans for the Australian ponies.

Like my fellow grooms, I enjoy my daily contact with the frisky
ponies' bodies. Our common nakedness makes for a sexually charged
atmosphere and I like nothing better than to feel my hands glide
over their wet, soap slicked torsos. It is obvious from their
rampantly erect cocks that the ponies also enjoy these close,
personal encounters. They aren't alone in this enjoyment - all we
grooms sport cocks to rival those of the ponies. My own is always
painfully erect and throbbing with unfulfilled lust.

What parts of the ponies do I enjoy working on the most? I don't
know. All parts of their bodies are exciting and all offer
varying degrees of pleasure. When working on a pony's chest, I
playfully tweak his nipples until they are fully erect and I
especially like the way they respond to my touch. But then, there
is pleasure to be derived from stroking his hard abdominals or
inserting my finger into his sensitive navel.

Of course, we must be circumspect in all this; after all we are
supposed to be preparing the ponies for their day's labours and
not indulging ourselves in sexual pleasure. Sometimes, an
impatient overseer will apply his cane to a groom's back; jerking
us all back to the reality of our true work. Mostly, however they
are indulgent of this covert attention we pay to the ponies. The
overseers seem to enjoy watching this interaction between the
ponies and their grooms; the `tent-poling' in their voluminous
pantaloons is testament to this.

I always enjoy soaping and washing the cocks and balls of my two,
Australian ponies; I find the rise and fall of their chests and
the nervous fluttering of their stomachs, as I do so, to be
especially erotic. Surreptitiously, I tickle their balls, gently
stroke the sensitive underside of their throbbing, hard cocks and
tease their piss-slits. Invariably, as I do this, I feel their
legs tremble and their knees sag - just a little. Both possess
beautiful penises; each is long, thick and ramrod hard.

They are circumcised and as I look at them I see a particular
badge of their slavery - the bright red ring left as a result of
their recent skinning. Our Master follows the age-old al-Bahr
tradition that all male slaves are to be deprived of this symbol
of their manhood. He believes that on becoming a slave, one is no
longer considered to be a man.

Somehow, under the guise of working on each pony, I always
contrive to move my body closer to him. I like the feel of their
muscular hardness pressed up against me and as our chests and
bellies touch and our cocks `cross swords', I am overwhelmed by
sheer sexual longing. I want for nothing more than to spend a
night in their stall with them, where they can fulfil my every
fantasy and satisfy my lust. Most of all, I want to be free of my
frustration. However, this isn't to be!

My Master, forever disdainful of his slaves and ruthless in his
treatment of them, does however recognise that they have sexual
needs and he has a fairly relaxed attitude to what happens in the
stables between the overseers, the ponies and their grooms.

In the stables, there is a pecking order in operation with the
overseers being at the top of the `food chain'. To satisfy their
sexual appetites, they have first call on any slaves under their
control. That is their right, given to them by my Master, and is
seen by them as one of the perks of the job.

The overseers have a decided preference for the grooms and very
rarely will they interact with a pony - why I don't know? Perhaps
they see a pony as being too animal-like whereas a groom, while
still a slave, does retain some vestiges of his former humanity.

The grooms, for their part, have learned to respond immediately
to an overseer's command to service his cock. They are
conditioned to quickly stop whatever they are doing and to either
drop onto their knees and take a cock into their mouths or to
present their asses for fucking.

When speaking of the grooms, I say `they' and not we because I am
excluded from these activities. And frustratingly, I don't
understand why this is so.

Inexplicably, I'm NEVER used for sex by either the overseers or
other grooms. It seems that I'm `off limits' to them and even
though they look at me lustfully, I'm left alone. I'm not stabled
with the other grooms - whilst they are locked into a communal
stall, I sleep alone. Each night, my wrists are fastened behind
my back and I'm locked into a stall by myself.

Here, as I lie on the straw covered floor, I'm surrounded by the
sounds of the ponies and grooms in their uninhibited enjoyment of
each other. Frustratingly, I'm tormented by their sounds of
sexual pleasure; by their slurping, grunting, moaning, panting
and farting as they suck or fuck one another to climax. How I
envy them!

As I listen to them, my own cock is rampantly erect and my balls
are churning for release. And with my hands fastened behind me,
I'm denied this release.  Occasionally, there are times when my
arousal is so great that I ejaculate spontaneously - the
intensity of these ejaculations only adds to my overall feelings
of frustration. Enviously, as I listen to the sounds of the
rutting ponies and grooms, I picture them humping and thrusting
into each other and I long to join them.

I ask myself - which would I enjoy the most? Fucking or being
fucked? If only I knew!

However, there is one stall that remains silent; its occupants
impervious to all the activity around them. The occupants of that
stall are the two Australian ponies.

Even though they share a stall, I know that neither is sexually
active. I was puzzled by their indifference to sex until I
overheard Faris talking to another overseer. He believes that the
two recently enslaved ponies, quite mistakenly, still think of
themselves as brothers and with their obsolete `western values',
they have decided NEVER to indulge in sex with each other. Faris
concludes that time and their natural urges will overcome their
scruples and that eventually they too, like all the other ponies,
will be vigorously fucking one another.

Why am I excluded from the activities allowed the other slaves? I
don't know!

I'm aware that the overseers refer to me as `Geoff's pet' and
that they are resentful towards me. This resentment is directed
at me in the overuse of their canes and I, more than any other
groom, am likely to be punished for any real or imagined
misdemeanour.  I'm not to know the estate manager Geoff had
inexplicably taken a liking to me upon my arrival and had
strictly ordered Faris, the Stable-Master to protect me from the
predations of the overseers, ponies and other grooms. I've always
sensed that Faris strongly disapproves of this and, strangely, of
late he has shown me a number of little kindnesses.

When he is absolutely sure that the estate manager is well away
from the stables, he'll order one of the other grooms to
illicitly `milk' me. How I now look forward to these clandestine
occasions and my gratitude to Faris knows no bounds. Because of
this, he has my complete devotion and loyalty.

Once, in a moment of weakness, he confided in me that Geoff saw
me as being different from the other slaves and was keeping me
for something special. Perhaps, it is as Faris said.

"He intends to fuck you himself'.

Certainly, over the years of my slavery, the estate manager has
taken a personal interest in my development. There isn't any
doubt that, in his eyes, I'm a slave and no different to any
other slave on the estate. However, he has always involved
himself in my physical well-being. He subjects me to regular
inspections to gauge my musculature and, if not satisfied, he
will direct Faris to assign me to duties that will rectify any
shortcomings in my physique.

Now, at the peak of my physical development, even Faris
grudgingly acknowledges the estate manager's efforts and he often
tells me.

"You're a magnificent slave and one any master would be proud to
own".

I glow with pride at Faris' compliments. Slaves, of course, don't
own their bodies, and possessing nothing, they take immense pride
in a master's appreciation of their appearance. And so it is with
me.

In many ways I'm very similar to the Australian ponies. Our
bodies are almost identical in height and weight. The three of us
possess broad shoulders, narrow waists and long legs. Like them I
have a muscular chest and a flat, hard-muscled belly and I am
very aware of my large, circumcised cock and balls. I am slightly
younger and they have blond-hair and blue eyes whereas I have
black hair and brown eyes.

As I have already noted, both slaves still possess their body
hair; normally my Master requires that his slaves' bodies are
smooth and hairless. My own body meets his requirements in that
it is smooth and glabrous. In my natural state, my head is
covered with thick, black curls but it is cropped short as befits
a slave.

And, if allowed to grow, I know my chest and belly would have a
hair covering. But since I was brought here at an early age and
my body kept smooth, I really don't know the true appearance of
my body or how it would look if I was a free man.

On his last inspection of me, the estate manager showed special
interest in my buttocks - playfully patting them and laughingly
telling Faris that.

"The slave's ass is a thing of great beauty and appeal."

And sensuously, that is how I see the asses of the two Australian
ponies.

Like all the grooms, I like to linger on the ponies' buttocks as
I prepare them for harnessing. I feel a special eroticism as I
massage the soap onto their muscular, well rounded buttocks and I
always manage to slide a soap- slicked finger into the valleys
between seeking out their tight, sensitive ass-holes.

At first, they reacted with horror at this; the sharp intake of
their breathing, the tight clenching of their buttocks, the
movement away from me and the shuffling of their feet all
indicated their abhorrence at what I was doing. Still, tethered
as they were, there wasn't any way they could avoid my probing
finger.

Overtime, they have overcome their natural shyness to such extent
that I now believe they actually welcome the attention I pay
them. I sense this in the way their flanks quiver at my touch,
the relaxation of their sensitive sphincters and the less than
subtle pushing back of their asses against my finger in an
invitation to probe deeper.

I also sense that Faris is correct; slowly but surely their
resolve not to have sex with each other is crumbling. I am
certain that, as he predicts, they will soon be fucking one
another and, in my imagination, they include me.

Whenever, I look into their handsome faces, I'm entranced by
their dazzling white teeth and the brilliant blue of their eyes
where I see mirrored all the sadness and disbelief of the newly
enslaved. All too soon, these will give way to despair and will
be replaced by an empty hopelessness as they learn to accept the
grim reality of their fates.

I know - for I have been there!

Still, I'm unaffected by their sadness. Slaves don't feel
sympathy for each other; each is too pre-occupied with himself to
show concern for another slave. For me, as with all slaves, there
is grim satisfaction in knowing that others are to share my fate.

Today, as I harness them to Faris' rickshaw he seeks me out. I
have been chosen by the estate manager to deliver the Master's
two black ponies and his cart to the front steps of the palace.
This is normally a job for a responsible overseer and like Faris
I'm surprised that I have been commanded to do so.

Unlike the overseer, who would normally drive them, I'm to lead
the ponies up the long driveway to the palace and tether them at
the bottom of the front steps. As Faris points out, my Master
wouldn't want his upholstery soiled by my naked, sweat-stained
body and fouled by my stable stench.

Then worryingly, I'm commanded to climb the marble steps to the
front door of the palace and assume the `display' position.
There, I'm to wait for my Master's arrival.

I overwhelmed with fear and quake at the thought of coming face
to face with my Master.


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









