
THE SLAVE AND THE ELECTRICIANS:  LATER LIFE


By Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete Brown's  stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

FROM "JOURNAL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIAL STUDIES"

PREFACE

An earlier paper in my series  on modern slavery told, largely in their own words, the story of how two ordinary electricians readily adapted to the use of slaves in their work ("The Slave And The Electricians, Journal Of Contemporary Social Studies, January 2010).  Whilst I had intended to continue their history in a later paper in the series, after I had examined other issues affecting contemporary slavery, a number of researchers have contacted me privately to ask for my notes from my interviews with the electricians, the slave, and the newly-enslaved Marine in order that their own work could be furthered. 
 
Rather than have many researchers transcribing my notes separately, I have brought forward the second part of the story of these ordinary men.  Let us be clear:  these are not "intellectuals" who could rationalise the practice of slavery on economic and social grounds. The electricians are ordinary, working-class men who were exposed to a new environment and made the most of it.  The primary slaves of course are farm-bred, and whilst the stock there is selected for its general aptitude and abilities, they are deliberately not "educated" in the sense that we understand the term - their "education" is to accept their lot, willingly.  Whilst the slave "3" may actually be intellectually superior to either of the electricians Steve and John, his lack of early education now gives him a hurdle that he cannot readily overcome.  In the circumstances, the adaptations that he makes to the "new world" represented by the arrival of Steve and John are impressive.  It is also clear that the Marine has a great ability to adapt - again, this is not "officer material" with advanced education, just an ordinary "grunt private" who, through circumstances beyond his control, goes from doing his duty by his country to a wholly different set of requirements for "duty".

I hope readers will find this exposition of the adaptations that these "ordinary" men make is instructive:  with a proper education and publicity programme, it is my belief that modern "humane" slavery could easily be introduced in to the West, with the majority of the working population easily coming to terms with it.

Professor P Brown
London, February 2010

THE ELECTRICIANS

Our contract was up, and our six months done.  So we flew home - the contrast between the luxury of the palace and the squalor of England when we got back was very apparent. 


I said goodbye to John at Heathrow because he was catching the bus to Woking for his train to Dorset, whereas I was going into London on the Underground.  I really thought it was the last I would ever see of him, as he was full of how he was going to get married straight away now he had saved enough for a deposit on the house, then have nippers.... On and on about how much he was looking forward to it.  It was sad, really - we'd been together a long time, and I'd got used to having him around even though he could be annoying at times.  He was almost crying when we finally shook hands, and was trying to say some thing that wouldn't come out.

"Steve....  Steve.....    "

"Yes, mate.  Hurry up as the bus is about to go."

"Steve... I.... Steve...   "

"Go on, spit it out."

"Steve... Thank you...."

I think he was trying to tell me he was grateful to me for looking out for him these last couple of years.   But blokes don't say those sorts of things to each other, do they?  So in the usual way I did when I wanted him to do something, I just said

"For fuck's sake, John.  Stop pratting about, and get on the fucking bus.  And don't forget to send me an invitation to that wedding of yours!"

I didn't look back as I walked away - actually, I was more upset than I like to think as he was a really nice bloke, and even though he was a bit of a nuisance at times, I already missed him.  But men don't cry when they say goodbye to their mates, do they, so I just quickened my pace and went down into the Underground.

I'd given up the flat when we went abroad of course, so I was going back to my mom and dad's place until I found somewhere else.  It was fucking awful - I only had my old small cramped room, mom and dad were all over me and never left me alone.  Fucking hell - had I given up all that in the Gulf for this?

I couldn't even stand staying in the first night - mom and dad went on at me about being ungrateful and everything as soon as I said I was going out to see my mates, but I couldn't stand the stupid game shows on the telly that they watched all the time, with the sound turned right up.  Fucking moronic, if you ask me.  

I wanted to start going out with birds again, but when I got to my local I found a whole lot of them had disappeared in the past months - they'd married, moved away, etc. And the ones that were left were nothing special.  I got bored with the need to chase them and chat them up - all I wanted was to get my leg over, and they wanted to make a big deal of it.

I idled away a week, and got nowhere.  I had to lie in my little bed at night wanking myself, trying to stop the cum leaking on the sheets in case my mom saw when she changed the bed.  It was just like being a little kid again.

And I found I couldn't get a job - the construction industry is very cyclical, and was going through a bad time.  There were lots of openings for blokes who would go out and do poxey "household" work - fixing plugs for old ladies, and the like.  But wearing overalls with some fucking company's name on them and being made to do a quota of 10 calls a day was not for me - too much like being a fucking slave!  There was one company that wanted me to wear overalls with "operative 19" on the breast pocket:  I might as well have been branded. 

Quite apart from anything else, you didn't even have a lot of lads to talk to like on the site, just tired old slags of housewives who thought that if they chatted you up you might give them a jump.  Actually, I was so tired of wanking myself that if any of them had been even half way reasonable looking, I would have.  

I tell you, life was fucking boring.  And I didn't even have enough savings to buy a flat - I'd made a lot of money in the Gulf, but still not enough to buy in London.

I wondered when the invite to John's big wedding  was going to come - I was looking forward to seeing him again.  Every night when I got home I scanned through the post, expecting to hear, but there was no letter or anything.  I thought it was going to be almost straight away, and every day I expected to hear.

After an evening out playing arrows, I get home one night and Mom says there's a woman wants to speak to me urgently.  Dad says he supposed I've finally done it and got a bun in someone's oven and she's going to land me with a paternity suit:  "that'll trim your wings, when you're paying for a sprog.", he said.   Ha bloody ha.

I was going to leave it until the morning, but Mom said she'd said I was to call that night, however late it was.  So I phone up the number, and it turns out it's John's mom.  She's at her wits end - John is  in his room, and won't come out.  He's not eating, and he's sort of crying all the time.  She's remembered that I'm his best mate, who he was always talking about at weekends, and I'm now the only person she can think of to do something for him. She's even been to the doctor, who has given her some pills for him, but he won't take them.  She says she knows he's upset about Carol.

"So who's Carol?", I ask her.

"His ex-fiancee."

"Ex?  I though they were going to get married when he got back!"

She tells me the whole story. It seems that whilst we are away, Carol got married!  As soon as John got home and found out, he went all funny and hasn't been out of his room since.

So I tell her I'll go down to Dorset and sort John out straight away.  But I don't have a car and the last train, the 19:35, left hours ago.  So I ring the railways - you need a decent fucking service for emergencies like this - and find that the earliest train I can get the next morning is the 07:10.  You just can't get down there on public transport before 09:45, when it gets in.  What a fucking shit house of a country.

The next morning on the train I phone work on my moby to tell them there's an emergency and I won't be in.  Five minutes later the fucking foreman phones me back and says I'm fired!  My money's in the post, and I needn't bother going back to them again!  Bloody John getting me into problems again, as usual.

I suppose the country outside London is OK if you like that sort of thing.  The train takes an age to do the 140 miles or so, and I finally get out at one of its interminable stops.  John's town seems a really small place: there's a few run-down shops around a market square and not much else.  It's fucking quiet!  It's in a fold of hills - can see green everywhere!

I had to ask a couple of the local yokels where John's address was, but it was only a few minutes walk.  Actually in that one-horse town there wasn't anywhere more than a few minutes walk from anywhere else.  It was a pretty standard council house - better than my mom and dad's poky flat, with a garden that was well kept.  

So I go in, and they're really pleased to see me.  They're both in their early sixties, and John's mom tells me he's her youngest.  She's worried sick about him, as ever since his bird Carol told him she'd married someone else, he's stayed up in his room.  He won't come out, he's not been eating, and she hears him crying in his sleep.  She's got his three elder brothers in to try to get him to come out, but they haven't been able to do anything.

So I go up to his room... And it's still like a little boy's room - model aeroplanes on the  window ledge, pop posters on the wall.  John is lying face down on the bed, and I can see he's in pyjamas!  Those flannelette pyjamas with stripes on them, for Christ's sake!  No young bloke wears pyjamas now, let alone pyjamas like those.

I sit down on the bed and shake his shoulder.

"Wotcha, mate!  What's all this then?"

"Steve....  Go away.  Leave me alone.  It's all over for me, as Carol's married another bloke whilst we were in the Gulf.  I knew we shouldn't have gone."

"Fucking hell, mate:  there are plenty of birds around.... Just get out there and look.  Come on back to Lonmdon with me, and you'll be shagging again in no time."

"No, Carol's special. She's the only one for me.  I was saving myself for her.  I only want her.  I don't want to be fucking everything around, like you do." 

"Look, Steve.  Believe me - I've known more women than you've had hot dinners.  She's not special  - all women are alike:   they lead a bloke on, and promise heaven for his cock.  But all they want really is his money.  I've known lots of guys like you who can't wait to get married, then find that once they've had a kid and are trapped, all their old ladies want to do is sit and watch the telly all evening.  All that fun they used to have in bed is soon forgotten.  Believe me, mate, you're better off out of it

"So come on, snap out of it!  Get out of those stupid pyjamas, and take me for a drink in this town - I see there is a pub, and I suppose it does open at dinner time!"

"Fuck off, Steve.  Leave me alone...."

"You're my best mate, and I'm not going to leave you like this.  I'm not going back to London without you, and as a first step I'm nor even going downstairs without you.  So fucking get yourself together, and get up!"

As I said that, I pulled of the bedclothes, and slapped him on his arse as I did to wake him when we were sharing a flat.

"Get your lazy arse out of that bed, matey!  We've got things to do.  I need you to come back with me to Gulf -  I can't go by myself, as I can't sort out the paperwork.  I was wondering how I was going to manage with you married down here, and so this is a bloody miracle.  We're going for a pint, then we're going back to London, then we're going back to the Gulf so that I can earn enough for a flat of my own."

There's no reply, so I slap him again.  

"John, I'll  drag you out of that fucking bed if you don't get up - now, move."

Amazingly, because I had no idea what to do next if he hadn't, he does!  He stands up, and goes off to the bathroom.  I sit on the bed, waiting.  Having got up out of it, I'm dammed if he's going to get back into it.

He comes back, and he looks half way respectable.  He hasn't had a bath, but he has shaved.  
"Come on, get dressed - you're going to show me this town of yours you were always going on about when we were in London and the Gulf."

He just stands there in his stupid pyjamas , and I realise he wants me out of the room.

"Don't be a silly bastard, John.  I've seen you there in all your medals lots of times before... Fucking get dressed, will you, and stop keeping me waiting!"

So he does.  Unlike when we were two blokes living together when we just used to hang our shirts over the bath to dry and didn't worry about creases, here all his shirts, and even his boxers, are neatly ironed!  You wouldn't catch my mom doing that for me after I'd left school.

We  go downstairs, and his mom and dad look ecstatic.  His mom starts to rabbit on, but I'm worried that she'll say something to break the mood John is in of doing what I tell him as usual, so I cut in and say

"John's going to show me the town.  He used to bore me silly with all his talk of it, so now I'm going to see it with my own eyes."

So we go out, but of course it's dead boring.  There's fuck all there, except for the scrubby shops and the countryside.  But there is a boozer, his old local, and at lunchtime we're the only customers.  

I pour three pints of the local brew into him - he never drank his full whack usually, just sat and watched the rest of us, but this time I made him match me.  When we're on our fourth, I say 

"Right then.  So what's all this fucking nonsense about your bird?   You've got your mom and dad worrying themselves into the grave over you."

So he starts to tell me, with lots of hesitations and false starts, that when he gets back he goes round to Carol's on the first night and finds she's not at home.  Her parents are all shifty, and say she's moved out, and only give him her new address when he really demands it.  So he goes around there, and finds it's one of the new boxes on the private estate that they'd planned to buy together. Only she's about eight months gone!  And there's this bloke with her, who says he works in the local bank, and is her husband.  

He's almost embarrassed and ashamed as this story as it comes out, and he keeps looking down at his glass - he won't look at me directly as he usually does.

"The worse thing is, Steve, that she must have been going with this bloke before we went to the Gulf.... During the week, when I was in London"

"But didn't you know she'd been having it away with this bank clerk?  Couldn't you tell, when you got her knickers down?"

He's squirming with embarrassment now, and I deliberately say nothing so that he has to answer me.

"Well, Steve.  Well, you see....  You see I never actually did it with Carol.  She was my girl friend ever since school.  It never seemed right...."

I break the tension by laughing.

"You really are a one, John!  Almost got the girl to the alter, and you'd never even shagged!"

"Well, we were saving ourselves for each other."

"You mean you were saving yourself.  That's why you turned down all those birds I was always pointing out to you.  She wasn't saving herself for you.... She was fucking away like a ferret with Mr Bank Clerk!  You really have been made a fool of, mate."

"Anyway", I go on, "Put it all down to experience.  Come back to London with me.  We've got enough to buy a nice two bedroomed flat together, and you can start catching up for lost time - you can fuck every night until your balls are blue, and as you seem determined to get married, I'm certain one or other of the tarts we know will soon get herself in the Club...."

"She's spent the money, Steve.  I haven't got any left."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I used to send it home every week, so she could save it.  And she says she's spent it all on the house."

"You chump!  Well, we'll just go around there tonight and get it back for you.  So what's next?"

So he takes me off for a walk in the country - he really likes it, but I think it's dead boring.  Then we go back to his mom and dad's, and they're really relieved to see us.  His dad is talking to John, and his mom motions for me to go into the kitchen and she's almost crying - "You've bought John back to us".

So I tell her that I think he'll survive.  But that he needs to get away - he can't stay festering down there in Dorset.  And I tell her that we're going back to London at least, if not to the Gulf again.  But that I'll take care of him, just as I have before.

I think she wants to have a little weep, so she shoos me out of the kitchen as she says she's got to get the meal on the table.  And when it does come, it's amazing - a proper meat and two veg,  followed by apple pie and custard. It's not like anything I've ever had from my mom.  And we all sit around the table to eat - not just eat it off our knees as we do in our place.  And his mom and dad and John all talk, all the time.  Not actually about anything, really.  But John's dad talks about his garden, his mom tells him what the neighbours have been doing, all that sort of stupid stuff that I suppose you get in a small town.

At about seven o'clock I get up, and tell John it's time we went around to see Carol about his money.  He doesn't want to come, but I make him, as I say I can hardly do it for him, can I?  And without the money, we can't get back together as we did before.

We walk around to the house, and it's one of those tiny boxes that are on the outskirts of every town in the country - one room and a kitchen downstairs, one tiny bedroom and a supposed "second bedroom" upstairs.  Tiny garden, and big garage.  This was John's dream, so I don't say anything - we're all different, after all.

I ring the bell and this smug bastard of a husband comes to the door.  John just stands there, so I tell him that we've come to see his wife about repaying John's money.

"She's got nothing to say", he tells us.  "The money was a present to her, and she's chosen to spend it on our matrimonial home.  She's resting now, as our baby is due in under two weeks, and I don't want her disturbed."

Fucking prick using phrases like "matrimonial home"!  The slut has cheated John, and he deserves better than that and I tell him his wife's a two-timing cow and that we want our money.  He tells us that it's all spent on the house - and surely John wouldn't want Carol's baby to be homeless?

I'm all for carrying on arguing there on the step, and I can see the neighbours looking from behind their net curtains.  But John tugs at me and tells me to come away.

We go back to the boozer, and have four pints each.  John's going on about how he doesn't mind - he's loved Carol all that time, and he doesn't care if she keeps his money.  

Well, it's his choice.  But I wouldn't let a tart get away with anything like that with me.  And what about that smug bastard of a husband, who's cheated you, too, I ask him.

Anyway, we're pretty tanked up by this time so we go back to the house, ring the bell, and when the husband pokes his head out of the door we pull him into the road and give him a good seeing to!  We both punch him a bit, but I then see a side of John I've never seen before - he's always the mild, placid one.  But now he really goes at the husband, punching away and the guy is totally unable to defend himself (remember, John actually works for a living, and the husband's only a bank clerk).  He's soon down on the road, and John starts kicking him.  When he's just aimed a particularly vicious one directly into the guy's crotch, and is starting on the ribs again, I get a bit worried:  John will kill the guy, he's in such a rage.

So like a good mate, I pull him off - and he almost turns on me!  Have you ever tried to deal with anyone in a complete, mindless, out of control rage? Once they start lashing out, it's almost as if they don't even know who they are hitting.  But I calm him down, and we run off, leaving the man groaning and vomiting in the road.  If you ask me, that kick of John's into his goolies will mean that he won't be fathering another kid with the lovely Carol.

I never get to actually see this woman that's been John's passion all these years, as she doesn't even come out to see what's happened, unlike all the neighbours!  

As he calms down, John starts to worry about the police.  But I tell him that it's unlikely the bloke will call them in:  if he does, they'll prosecute us, sure, but then the whole story will come out.  And he won't want everyone to know that their bank clerk has actually connived at cheating John out of his money.

By the time we get back to his mom and dad's, John has cheered up a lot, and actually kisses his mom as he goes in.  I think she's a bit concerned about the beery breath we're both pumping out, but  his dad tells me that they're really glad to see John "happy" again.

Of course I've missed the last train back to London, so I've got to stay. John and his mom and dad fuss around, worrying about whether I'll be comfortable on the settee, or whether John should sleep on it and I should have his bed.  I can't see what all the fuss is about - it's a double bed in his room, after all.  So I say that I could sleep with John.

His dad says "Yes, that's best.  I used to do that with my old army mates during national service sometimes if we had a weekend pass.  You just put a pillow down the centre of the bed."

And his mom fusses on about the fact that I haven't got anything with me, so she'll find me some of John's pyjamas "They're all freshly washed and ironed of course", she says as if to reassure me, and not knowing that I'd rather be dead than be seen in those awful flannelette things. 

We go up to his room, and I go of to the bathroom to pee. When I get in to the bedroom, John's in his pyjamas, and is holding out a set for me.  I take them off him, and he goes off to the bathroom.

I strip off, and get into the bed naked, which is the way I always sleep.  When John comes back he starts fussing around with the pillow like his dad was going on about - so I tell him not to be such a wimp, and to get into bed.  

"But first", I say, "Take those fucking silly pyjamas off.  Real men don't wear pyjamas.  Real men sleep naked."

He goes to argue, but he can see that I'm naked, and he doesn't argue with me.  The old John is back now, as he always wants to do what I do, and do what I say.  So he slowly unbuttons the jacket and takes it off, then starts to get in."

"John, naked means without the trousers!", I have to remind him.

So we're then both naked, a "respectable" distance apart.  And we start to talk about the day and everything that's happened.  I tell him about the problem of finding work, and that without his money we'd have to find another rented flat in London -  unless we want to go back to the Gulf again and save up once more.

He seems quite keen, so I start to talk about the fight.  I remind him of how we saw our slave "3" fighting that first time, and I tell him I though John was actually better tonight.  

"After all", I say "3 was trained to fight, whereas you just took that guy out when you've never raised your fists at anyone before."

Just thinking about the fight of 3 and the marine has given me a hard on, and I can tell by the shape of the bedclothes that John's got one too.  I don't know what makes me do it, but I do something now I've never done before, not to John, not to anyone - I reach over and feel his hard cock.

You could have blown me down with a feather because the next moment I feel John's hand around my cock, too - and he's usually such a quiet one!  

Well, once you've got your hand on a cock there's only one think you do, isn't there?  So I start to jack him off.  And he's doing the same to me.  It feels amazing to actually be doing this to another guy, and we both cum, very quickly.

John starts to worry that his mom will see the semen on the sheets when she does the weekly wash, but I tell him not to think about it - she's had John and his four brothers in the house, after all, and it can't be the first time an "accident" will have happened.

But he's still restless, and I tell him to roll over on his side and go to sleep.  I roll over  too, and "spoon" into the back of him.  It's a long time since I felt naked flesh pressed against me, and it's almost like snuggling up next to a bird - until I reach my arm out over his body, and instead of having a nice soft tit to fondle feel John's hairy chest.

But It's obviously OK for John, as he seems much calmer and I can tell from the rise and fall of his chest that he's breathing deeply and has gone to sleep.


I wake up with my usual morning erection, and as I lie there in that half sleeping half waking state, wonder why it feels better than usual.  It's because it's nestling in John's crack, of course, that warm, moist area between his muscular arse cheeks.  I'm not touching his arse hole or anything, it's just that lying with my erect cock wedged between his cheeks feels - well -  feels right.  My right arm is over his body and my hand is on his hairy belly, so I move it down and feel that John is erect, too, although he's obviously still asleep.

So I start to wank him, and it's amazing to be doing this to the guy without him knowing it consciously.  At some level it is getting through, as he's gently thrusting at me, and making little sighs and moans in his sleep.  When he finally does cum, there's a huge load shot and I do try to catch most of it because of his mom - but lying like that, you can't do much.

I then wake him up, and tell him that it's my turn for a bit of fun, and pull his hand down onto my erect cock.  But now he says it's not right and that we shouldn't be doing things like this.   I'm going to argue with him, but he gets up and goes off to the bathroom.

I follow him after a few minutes, and see he's in the bath.  So I stand there and piss, and he's looking at me in amazement.

"Come on, John, hurry up out of that bath", I tell him.  "I want one too."

"OK, Steve, I'll be with you in a minute.  Just go back to bed..."

"No, come on!  Get out now!  You don't even need to run a fresh bath, as I'll use your water.  You haven't pissed into it, have you?"

The poor guy looks really worried as he stands up - I can't imagine why, as I've seen him naked lots of times before.  And we have been wanking each other, after all.  And his eyes look like saucers as I get into the water he's just got out of - why not, after all.  You swim in swimming pools where other people's bodies have been, so why not bathe in their bath water?

I go back to our bedroom with just a little towel around my waist, and John has already dressed.  He's got a pile of his clothes - all neatly laundered and ironed - for me to choose from, and I see him watching me as I let the towel fall and then stand there naked as I choose which of his shirts I'm going to put on.

I'm standing there with my cock poking out from underneath the shirt, and I ask him for some boxers.  

"You're not going to wear my underwear are you, Steve?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Well... Well... I don't know.  It's just that I always thought that underpants were sort of personal."

"Look, John, you know what we did last night.  You can't get more personal than that!  So stop being a silly prat and give me a pair of those boxers before my bollocks freeze, will you?"

Actually, it does feel a bit strange putting another guy's underwear on - I don't know why, really ,as it's all perfectly clean. 

We go down and his mom has a huge breakfast for us - bacon, sausage, tomato, egg, beans, toast, the lot.  After we've eaten, I tell John we ought to go back to the Gulf to rebuild his stash of money, and he agrees.  So we phone the agency, and they tell us they'll post the application forms to us at John's.

So then there's nothing to do all day.  John is still worried about the police, but I tell him that if they didn't come for us during the night, it isn't going to happen now.  The only thing in this town apart from the boozer is the swimming pool, so we decide to go.

I had to borrow John's old swimming trunks from when he was at school - they were the standard black Speedo briefs most schools use, but of course John was smaller then so on me they were really tiny.  We swam for almost two hours, because we'd got used to doing this in the Gulf on our day off, and as usual we raced each other:  it's almost the only thing John can beat me at, as he's a bit more muscular than I am, and if you do lots of lengths, that strength ultimately tells.

Afterwards, in the showers, we saw how tanned we were compared with the other guys there, although our colour was highlighted by the stark white bands around our asses and cocks.  England is a funny place - at least half the guys in the showers kept their swimming shorts on as they soaped themselves down to get rid of the chlorine from their skin.  And it wasn't just the old fat guys who did this - even reasonable looking young guys of about our age did.  We saw them looking at our totally naked bodies, but who cares?

When we got home the post had delivered  the application forms - this remote Dorset place wasn't so remote that first class mail from London couldn't  get here the net day.  So we filled them in, and went down to the Post Office to fax them off, before mailing the originals as well.

The rest of the day was much the same - nice cooked meal, a few pints in the boozer, then back to John's mom and dads where we again slept naked and wanked each other before going to sleep.

We'd only just had our breakfast the next morning when the phone rang - it was the employment agency, to say that there weren't any jobs going in the capital, but they were looking for electricians who were prepared to undertake a long-term assignment at a "remote palace in the desert, where the Sheikh had decided to totally renew all the electrics".  We asked a few more questions, and guessed that it must be the same place where we'd renewed the ceiling lights and discovered the pleasures of slave riding.  

The agency told us that because there was no entertainment, and no other expats around to socialise with, the pay was even higher than usual and in addition there was free accommodation, flights, etc.   We didn't even have to think for very long - John and I both said "yes" and the agency rang back later that day to say we could have flights on Monday - and it was now Friday.

This was a bit sooner than we had expected, and John's mom was really tearful when we told his parents - they'd got used to having him around again, and now we were going to be away for a year.  She started fussing about not being able to get all his washing and ironing done in time, but I told her - and John - not to bother much:  after all, it was hot there and we normally only wore shorts and Ts for work.  

John wanted to take a couple of suitcases of stuff, but after I had made him justify everything to me, and throw out a lot of stuff, it was down to one (the lad wanted to take 10 pairs of boxers, when we never wore underwear there anyway, and eight long-sleeved shirts... I ask you!).  For my part, I phoned my mom and told her to give all my stuff to a charity shop, or sell it.  I knew that when I came back I'd want to buy all new clothes and stuff as the fashions would all have changed. 

That weekend John insisted I go for a long walk with him in the country, so he could really show me where he had grown up.  Actually, it's not that bad - once you get used to the grass and stuff, it is better than walking around in London (if you like walking, that is).

But the real purpose of his walk turned out to be a really secluded cove,  surrounded by a couple of headlands, that you could only get to by walking miles as there was no road access.  We went down to a little beach  and it was so hot, and we were so sweaty, that we decided to go for a swim.

We stripped off, and ran across the sand and plunged in:  it was cold at first, but actually the sea was quite warm at this time of year.  We swam and swam, and it felt great - it really is good to swim naked, rather than all cramped up in swimming shorts, as the feeling of the water ploughing over your cock and balls is really nice.

We went and lay on the hot sand, and my prick, which had shrivelled up in the cold sea, started to recover.  The next minute John's hand is on it, and he's starting to wank me, without so much as a by your leave.  He seems to be losing that shyness he's always had!

When I came he'd not been watching what he was doing, because my cum shot up all over my stomach and chest.  I told him he was a clumsy git,  and we had to run into the sea again so he could wash me.  As we ran out and back across the sand to lie in the hot sun again, it occurred to me that we were experiencing the way that most of the Sheikh's slaves lived - as I ran across the sand, I was very conscious of the way that my cock bobbed up and down and my balls jerked - when you're running normally, after all, it's all supported inside your clothes.  And being totally naked with John was just the same as the way the slaves were with each other. 

To show there were no hard feelings about him wanking me without asking, I leaned over and did the same to him.  But I made sure that when I felt him starting to spurt I could push his cock to the side, so he shot onto the sand and not over himself. 

On the Monday morning his mom was really tearful, and his dad looked as if he might spring a few tears, too.  She took me to one side, and told me what a good influence I was on John - he'd always been so shy and not all that bright, but now he seemed to be getting a lot more confident.  And she knew I was looking out for him, so she wasn't so worried about him going off to a foreign country.  She said, and it sticks in my memory, "It's as if you've done something to him that's made him wake up."

We got the train to Woking, then the bus to Heathrow, and then everything was perfect - first class lounge where we had a refreshing glass of champagne, then flights in first class.  At the airport we were whisked through customs and immigration, and out into one of the Sheikh's big limos.  We noticed that apart from his smartly peaked cap the chauffeur was totally naked - it can't have been all that comfortable for him as you could tell his naked body was sticking to the leather seats. 

After the three hour drive across the desert waste we arrive at the palace, and the same foreman greets us as before.  We have the same big room,  with two double beds, and the drawers are stuffed with Ts and shorts as they were before

In spite of the air conditioning in our room and the car, we're both sweaty.  John throws off all his clothes and goes into the shower room, and I follow a moment later.  The two shower slaves are in there too, as before, and after they have soaped us and washed us thoroughly, kneel down and start to suck us off.  I look in the mirror, and the sight of John and me being sucked off by two naked slaves is somehow, well, erotic.  I'm a bit surprised by this feeling, as I don't really think a guy should find the sigh of other naked guys sexy.

John doesn't get dressed after the shower, and lounges around our room naked.  I was going to put shorts and a T on, but think that if he can disport himself like that, why shouldn't I?  It's a lot of fun somehow to be totally relaxed with your best mate naked like that, and we don't even feel funny when the naked waiters bring our dinner in.

I turn in early, as we have an early start the following morning and I want  to make a good impression.  Just as I've turned over and am about to go to sleep, I feel John get in beside me and the next minute he's "spooning" me.  

"You don't mind me sleeping with you, do you Steve?", he whispers.  "We did at home, and I'm a bit lonely tonight on this first night in our new place."

As usual, I have to think about what's best for him, so I just push him away, roll him over a bit, so I can spoon up to him instead of him doing it to me.  I shuffle around a bit so that I can get my cock lodged in his arse crack, and it does feel good to be close to him like that.  I don't bother to reply - I can tell he knows I don't mind.

The following morning I wake up with a bloody great erection sticking up between us, and the next minute he's rolled over and is wanking me.  So I start to wank him.  We've thrown the bedclothes off so we can see each other's cocks as they're jerked backwards and forwards, and the next minute the door opens and the bloody naked waiters come in with our breakfasts!

Fucking hell, they're seeing us two stark naked, wanking each other.  I go to stop and think about pulling the sheets over us or something, then think "Why?".  The waiters are only slaves after all, and we're masters - we can do what we like in front of slaves!

It's really good to lie with your best mate and eat breakfast, when you've just wanked each other.  I suppose that's why men like to join the forces, as in the barracks this must go on all the time.

We get up and dress, and go down to meet the foreman, who shows us the first job - replacing the power supplies to the kitchens.  It's a huge job, and we tell him we're going to need help - some of the "walking step ladders", like we had last time.

So he says we can go off and pick them, and we go outside and get into his "pony trap".  It's only a light cart, really but we can see four huge naked black men in leather harnesses standing between the shafts.  The foreman picks up a small whip, and aims it at the naked bums of the slaves, and we set off at a cracking pace.

These blacks really have to run fast - if they show any sign of flagging the foreman "encourages" them with a crack across their backs or bums.  He says that it's not a proper whipping -  they know that they'll get that if they really don't perform.  This light cart whip is just to "encourage" them in their efforts.

We stop at a field, and there's a gang of 20 naked slaves working away.  They're all doing something like hoeing weeds, and there's only one guard - the slaves are all chained together to collars around their necks, and so it's easy for him to supervise them all.  The foreman gets the guards to make them stop, and we walk up and down inspecting them.

They're all "average" guys, about like John and me, nicely muscled and there's all body and hair colours to choose from.  They're all branded, of course, and they've all had their pubic hair trimmed in the way that we know the Sheikh insists on for his stock.

The foreman suggests we choose one of them as a general "fetcher and carrier and odd job man", but  John and I don't think we need this.  We really need height, as we have to be able to get up into the palace ceilings easily.

Further down the field we can see two teams of big slaves pulling ploughs, six in a team.  These are all the tall, heavily muscled types we're after, so we walk down the field to inspect them.  They're all really straining, and you can see it's really hard work by the way their muscles have to flex to drag the plough through the dry soil.  Each team has a naked slave guiding the plough, and a guard with a whip who is constantly "encouraging" them in their efforts.  Perhaps I'd better get one of these light whips to "encourage" our slaves, I think.

I then see that the second  team has the slave "403" in it that we used before so I tell the foreman I'll have him, as he's already trained.  Actually, I like him, somehow - it can't be his personality, as I really didn't speak to him.  Must be his body - but it can't be, as I don't like bloke's bodies. 

The other slaves are all quite like him in size and shape, so I simply pick another one and we set off back across the field.  I can see 403 is kind of shaking, and he looks as if he wants to say something but dare not do so.

Suddenly, he says "Master..."

The foreman at once picks up the whip and really lays into him across his back and bum.  The slave doesn't even try to defend himself, just stands there and takes it.  But I can tell it must be hurting.

When the foreman has finished, he just goes to walk off, but the slave again starts "Master..."

The foreman is furious, and goes to start whipping the slave again, telling us that slaves are not allowed to speak unless spoken to.  I wonder what he's got to say, though, as it's obviously important to him - I'd seen him tremble, and then risk being whipped a second time.

So I stop the foreman, and gesture to indicate the slave can speak.

"Master... Master....  Could you take slave 806 instead of this other slave?"

I can't see any difference between them, so I just say

"No."

The slave then does something quite extraordinary.  He falls to his knees in the dirt, and starts to kiss my work boots, wrapping his arms around my legs.

He looks up and says "Please, master.  I've always looked after 806.  Without me he'll get into trouble on the ploughing team.  Please take him as well.   Or if you can only take one of us, take him rather than me.   I know you're a kind considerate master, and you could make 806 work well...."

I think of John, and how I look out for him, and it seems that this slave is a bit like me.  So I say "OK" - after all one slave's as good as another.   So I dismiss the other slave and he goes back to join the ploughing team, and the foreman calls to the guard to send 806 over to us.  The slave 403 looks deliriously happy, and is looking at me as if I'm some sort of god!

403 and 806 are told by the foreman to run behind us, and we get back into the cart.  As the four blacks pull us along at their fast pace, I turn around and see the two slaves really straining to keep up with us. Their magnificent bodies are sweating and you can tell that it's a real problem for them - although they're both obviously very fit, and they're both big tall guys, the blacks are trained "ponies" who do nothing else but run like this.  And, I suspect, they've been specially selected for this work as they all have magnificent long legs.

Back at palace we don't waste any time and start work immediately.  John and I have to tell them every little thing at first - it's almost as if they've been brought up not to take even the tiniest decision for themselves.  But we soon find it's really good to have such strong labourers to do all the hard work for us - you know, the stuff like shifting the heavy spools of new cable, tearing down unwanted partition walls, drilling new holes for cable runs through concrete floors, and all that type of thing.  John and I can just concentrate on doing proper electricians' work. And of course whenever we need to reach up,  we can command the slaves to kneel, sit on their shoulders, then get lifted up to do the work really easily.  

Unfortunately in a way the air conditioning in this part of the palace is working and it's not in our way so I can't have it turned off.  So it's not hot enough that I can justify taking off my T and shorts.  So I have to ride the slave with a layer of cotton between my arse and his shoulders - when we were here before I did actually think it was better to be completely naked, as I don't really like the way that the shorts get soggy from our sweat.  But I remembered that to get proper control you do have to dig the ribs of the slave with your toes and heels, so as he kneels prior to my mounting him, I now always get 403 to unlace and take off my work boots, and pull my socks off.  Somehow it feels god to be able to command the slave to do this for me, rather than having to bend down to do it myself.  And he doesn't seem to mind the smell of my sweat-soaked socks at all.

Our work goes well for the next couple of weeks, and we make excellent progress.  John continues to come into my bed every night, even though he seems to have got over being home sick!  And of course as you do when you have two naked horny guys in the same bed together, we fall into the habit of wanking each other, rather than just lying there and wanking ourselves.  It's also good to be able to have instant relief from the shower slaves when we get back from work - they really do know how to excite a cock and tease you to cum.

We lose 403 for an hour one morning a week when he's off to the breeding sheds, and two afternoons a week we lose him totally, as he has to go off for his special fight training.  It's not a problem for me, as I simply tell John that I'm going to use "his" slave. 

 Looking at 403 when he comes back, muscles all puffed up and covered in a sweat from his workout, I can't believe that I have absolute control of all that muscle power.  Indeed, if anything, 403 is even more of a slave than he was before: he is totally servile and dog-like in his devotion to me,  because I picked 806.  And 806 is happy, too - he adores John.  

This slavery thing has also had a huge effect on John, and he has continued to come on in leaps and bounds.  He commands 806 so confidently it's as if he has always done it - perhaps that's what he needed, total power over another man.

One morning  John tells me to go on ahead to work, and says he'll catch up.  He won't say why, and I'm a bit intrigued because even though he has got a lot more independent, he's still not one to take initiatives.  When he gets in about two hours later, he just picks up work as usual, and won't tell me where he's been or what he's been doing.  I'm in for a surprise, apparently!   It had better be a fucking good one.  

I still haven't found out what it is when we get back to our room that night and go into the shower.  The water comes on as usual, but no slaves appear.  

John comes in for his shower, too, but still no slaves.  Then he tells me what he's been doing:  the water and the summoning of the slaves is controlled by an IR sensor in the shower, he says.   So that morning he traced the connections and cut out the call to the slaves, although the water works as usual.

"You stupid fucker, John", I say.  "Who's going to wash us then?  And I know you like them blowing you as much as I do...."

I don't get a chance to continue because he has taken the soap and is now starting to soap me down, running his hands all over me.  He hands me the soap, and I realise he wants me to do the same to him.  As we run our hands over each other, I decide it's much better to be doing this with your mate rather than with slaves - it's nice to be touching and feeling him like this.  And John seems totally uninhibited - he washes my hair, soaps his hand and runs it down my arse crack, and even washes my cock and balls - he's so gentle.  I realise I need to do the same to him - we are equals, after all - and I find I actually like the sensation as I slide my soapy fingers down his crack.

There's only one thing missing that the slaves do, but as we stand under the water and wash away the last traces of soap, John does that, too!  After looking directly into my eyes for a few seconds, he drops to his knees and takes my prick into his mouth!  He starts to suck and lick at it, and I get a hard on.  He's got his hands around my bum and is kissing, sucking and caressing my cock with his tongue, and I realise he's going to blow me.

But this isn't right! No! I'm not queer!  A bit of wanking's one thing - lot of blokes do that with each other.  But having your mate put your cock in his mouth is disgusting.  It's OK for slaves to do it, but not your mate!  So I push him away, and even as I do so I think this is illogical somehow - if your mate wants to blow you, why shouldn't he - it's not as if it hurts you to be sucked off by a guy after all?  If it pleases him, why not?  But it's too late, and John has gone out of the shower room.

We hardly speak to each other for the rest of the evening.  Just stuff like "Want the TV news?"

"If you do it's all right by me", and we don't have our usual happy interchanges, and don't talk about the programmes with each other.

When we get to go to bed John is still sulking.  I think he's going to get into his own bed, but he still gets into mine.  But instead of lying on his back so we can start to wank each other, he turns over and moves to the side of the bed so we're bum to bum.

I miss him wanking  me, and can't get off to sleep.  I start to wank myself, and then think I can hear him listening to me doing it and thinking he's won some sort of victory.  Well, I can show him!  So I get out of bed, pull on a pair of shorts, and go down to the "pleasure rooms".  If he wants to sulk, I can show him that it isn't going to affect me!

I've never been inside the pleasure rooms before, although we've both looked at the selection displayed on the in-house TV, and I'm not sure what to do.  I'm greeted by a rather superior slave, who asks me if I want to "eat here or take away?"  Well, that isn't the way he put it exactly, but it is a bit like going to an Indian restaurant and having a huge variety of things to choose from!  

I finally pick a big olive-skinned slave with a nice pelt of dark hair down his front (although his back is smooth), and a very big cock.  We go off down to a simply-furnished room with a shower, wash basin and bed in it, and the slave waits obediently.  

I realise I have to command him to do something, so I drop my shorts, sit on the edge of the bed, then tell him to kneel down and suck me off.   He is, as you'd expect, an expert.   It's clear he can hold me almost at the point of coming for as long as I like, just by slackening his pace a little, but I tell him to get it over with  and I fill his mouth almost immediately with my spunk.  

He cleans my cock thoroughly with his tongue, and asks me if he would like him to wash me in the shower.  But I just pull my shorts back on and go back through the palace up to our room.  I get in beside John, who I can tell is awake, and just ignore him.  That's taught John a lesson!

The next morning, we work, mostly in silence.  I can see the slaves are worried, as normally John and I keep up a stream of banter and chat.  I suppose they're wondering if they've done something wrong, to annoy both of us.

At lunchtime, without even asking me, John commands 403 - my 403 normally - to kneel and make a seat for him.  Before he sits on the slave's naked back, he drops his shorts - that's unusual, because he's normally a bit modest.  Then, with me watching in astonishment, he commands 8006 to come over and suck him off!

806 looks as if he's in heaven..... It's obvious that he's wanted to do this for a long time for "his" master!   I can see 403 looking at me, pleadingly.  But there's no way I'm going to have a work slave blow me - it's one thing to have shower slaves and pleasure room slaves do it for you, but not a slave who works with you every day!

That night, back in our room, when it's time to shower neither John or I is willing to let the other be first.  So as usual we go in together.  We stand there, each trying to shower without touching the other.  

I look at John and say "Replace the fucking wiring, will you.... Get those slaves back in here!  A man needs a bit of relief when he gets back from work.  And whilst you're at it, sleep in your own fucking bed tonight - I don't want your mouth around my cock in the shower, and I don't want your bum shoving up against mine in bed."

John's really upset - I think he realises he's carried things a bit too far.  So he says

 "Look... I'm sorry, Steve... I only did it because I thought you'd like it.  You're such a good mate to me, I thought you'd want  to do everything with me, rather than with those impersonal slaves...."

The big lummox!  You can't really be angry with such devotion, can you?  So I put my arm around his shoulder, push him over towards the bed and then gently down on it, and we lie there and wank other.

When we've eaten, I tell him we're going out:  we ought to do different things together.  So I take him down to the pleasure rooms, but John won't pick a slave from all those lined up.  I take the olive skinned one again, but John still won't choose, and won't let me choose for him either.  Then he whispers that he wants to watch me and the slave together!

But in the private room, with John watching I just can't get it up however much the slave tries.  I didn't have that problem the night before, so it's not the slave's fault:  I guess I'm not used to being watched!   John then starts to get upset because he thinks it's him that's spoiled it for me, but I tell him I'm just tired.

I don't want the evening to be a total wash out, so I go back to the slave at the entrance and ask what we can do.  The answer is, effectively, anything I like with the slaves here.  Whilst they're primarily for sex, it I'd be more turned on by whipping the slaves, he tells me, there is a specialised fully-equipped whipping chamber as part of the complex.  But instead I select four of the slaves, and for the next couple of hours John and I amuse ourselves by commanding them do re-enact scenes from the porno movies we've been watching -  it's a big laugh!

The next day we're close to finishing and I want to carry on and work late - you know how it is, a couple of hours when you're close to finishing will save you half a day the next day when you have to pick up and remember where you got to.  So we work on, and John and I are still there when the guards come to take them off to be locked up for the night.

I tell them I'm using the slaves, and they should be left, and a few minutes later the guards reappear with the slave's "supper"... 4 biscuits for each of them, in a bowl.  We stop work so that 403 and 806 can eat, and I'm astonished at the way they devour the biscuits - they're gone in an instant.  We used to have a Labrador that eat like that - you only had to put food in front of her and it was gone in an instant.

I ask 403 if he's always that hungry, and he tells me yes - it turns out that the standard rations are designed to keep the slaves just exactly balanced between "enough" and "starvation".  And when they've been working really hard, they get really hungry.

I call the guards back, and tell them to fetch me two more biscuits. When they've gone, I give 403 and 806 one more each.  I can't believe 403's reaction: he falls to the floor on his knees in front of me, and kisses the fingers of my hand that fed him, each in turn.

We work on, and it's really late when we finish, as, like there usually is, there's an unexpected snag at the last minute.  I call the guards to take 403 and 806 away, but they say it's not now possible.  The slaves are still sleeping with the field gangs, and they have all been locked up for hours and the guards at the slave barracks have all gone off duty until the morning.

The guards start to chain up our slaves to one of the pillars holding up the roof, and say they can simply sleep there, as they're only slaves.  But it doesn't look very comfortable, and I tell the guards that the slaves can come back to our room with us. 

"Suit yourself", the guard says and give me a sort of leering wink.  "Here's the chains and shackles for them - even though they won't try to escape, the Sheikh's standing orders are that all slaves must be secured over night.  And, sir, they may come in handy if you like to play those little games with them, if you know what I mean."

I can see the guard thinks I just want the slaves for sex, and he thinks I'm into bondage games!  So I tell him to mind his manners, and he apologises and tells me that he's sure there will be shackling points in our room - there are almost everywhere in the Palace.

We lead 3 and 6 off through the palace back to our room, and tell the slaves to go in and shower as they're covered in dirt from the days work, to say nothing of their sweat.  John and I strip and go in too, so all four of us are naked in there.  The slaves don't know how to take being in the shower with their naked masters - having us sit on them is clearly one thing, but being in the shower with us is another!  I tell them to relax, we're just blokes together.

Well, actually that's not so.  It isn't like being in the showers after a gym session in London, as this shower is much smaller and we're all touching each other.  I decide this is a good time to really feel 3's muscles, and of course I have good reason to:  a responsible master occasionally checks his laves for "damage".

I've never really felt his body before in so much detail, and it's very exciting to have it under my hands.  I go on to inspect 6, too, then decide I want to compare them.  So I have them stand close together, then put both their cocks together in the palm of my hand.  I can feel both of the flanges of their cock heads in my sweaty palm, and they're both getting harder and harder as we just stand there.  Fucking hell!  What is this?  I'm not supposed to get a thrill from feeling blokes' cocks

After the shower 3 and 6 can't believe the room - I don't think that being outdoor work gang slaves they have ever seen carpet before.  And they look at the beds in wonder.  There's a little trap door  let into the carpet between the  two beds, and I'd always thought it concealed more power points. But when I open it up I see it's a big stout loop of steel, obviously  shackling point.  So I put cuffs on each of their ankles, and attach them by a short chain and padlock to the loop.

I wake up n the middle of the night, and just know that John is awake, too.  We can hear all these little noises, sort of like flesh on flesh.  We look over and see  that 6 is fucking 3 - and I always thought that 3 was the dominant one!  It must have given John ideas, because he pulled me towards him and started to wank me, without even asking!

In the morning we eat our breakfast and they crunch their biscuits, then it's of to work as usual, just as if nothing has happened.

Later that day I talk to the foreman and tell him that we've got several late nights lined up.  We don't want the slaves sleeping in our room all the time, and so can't something be done about making sure they can always get back to the slave barracks, however late it is?
He suggests instead that we move to a room with inbuilt slave quarters, then they could be with us all the time, and we would have complete flexibility with working hours but complete privacy if we wanted it.

That sounded like an excellent idea, so after work he shows John and me to a different corridor where the room doors are further apart.  Inside the outer door there's a little lobby, with two doors - one leads into a normal bedroom, just as we have now, and the other into a room that is totally bare.  Three walls are plastered, but the fourth seems to have bars in front of the plaster.  But we find out why - in "our" room panels of the wall can be pushed back to reveal the bars, so that if we want we can look into the slave quarters.

It seems an excellent idea, but the space we have seems a bit smaller than we're used to.  John then suggests that as we don't really need it, one of the double beds could be moved out to give us a bit of breathing space!  When I tell the foreman this he grins, and says 
"Oh, I always thought you were  a bit more than just mates!" 

I feel myself blushing, as I'd never thought of myself like that.  But I could see how people might get he wrong idea about John and me

He then shows us some of the facilities of the slave part of the room - we can turn the light on and off, there's a built-in shower head that we control from our side, one of the standard water dispensers, and, of course, in the corner, a crap hole.  

"You can leave the slaves locked in here for long periods", the foreman tells us.  "In fact, why don't you leave them in here tomorrow, Friday, and we three will go out together?"

But I think that's a bit cruel, so instead I suggest instead that the slaves are taken to the gym and thoroughly worked out - I don't want them to lose that superb muscle tone, and I'm concerned that we just don't work them hard enough.

The following morning the foreman calls for us in a pony trap.  It's only a small one, and we have to squeeze together quite a lot to get in.  Instead of the four big tall blacks, who have apparently already gone out, our trap is pulled by only three slaves:  they're a bit Russian-looking, only about 5'10", and all near-identical blondes.

The foreman takes us on a tour of the estate to "show us the sites", and says that it doesn't matter about the ponies:  the blacks were for speed, but these three are tough little work horses who can trot all day if necessary provided we don't want a flat-out gallop from them.  They are indeed Russians, and the foreman says they're becoming quite popular not just because of their colouring, as there are lots of blondes, but because they do seem to have more stamina than other white races.

Actually the estate is quite boring.  Nothing but fields under cultivation, with here and there gangs of naked slaves doing something or other to the soil or the crops.  But at one point we come across a solitary naked slave standing there "pumping" - he's chained to a treadmill that's turning a pump, and he's stolidly pushing up and down as the water spurts out into the adjacent field.  There's something a bit unusual about this slave, though:  unlike every other slave on the Sheikh's estate, this one has long shaggy hair and a scraggly beard!

I ask the foreman about this and he reigns in our ponies and stops our cart.  "

"Oh yes, that's one of the 'sights'.  He's that Marine who was enslaved last time you were here.  In spite of being  'ringed', he didn't adjust.  He had constant punishment, and many, many savage whippings. The trainers just couldn't break him!"

"You know", he went on, "It's not always successful to enslave Marines.  If you're going to enslave men, you need ordinary men, without 'trained' bodies.  You have to be able to break them with a reasonable amount of physical pain.  We couldn't break this one without killing him, and that would probably have been the best thing to do, really.  But the Sheikh hates waste.  And, to a certain extent, if you whip a slave so hard to break him that it kills him, the slave could be said to have 'won'."

We stop to look more closely, and the foreman goes on to tell us that the slave has to pump so many thousand litres a day, else he's not fed.  Otherwise he's not touched at all.  He's never able to move more than four feet or so from the spot, and to be able to pump enough water he has to work at it about 16 hours a day, eight with his legs on the treadmill, and eight with his arms on a big wheel at the other side.  It seems the slave is stubbornly determined to stay alive,  and hence he works!

Taking a closer look at him we see there's a really tough look in his eyes.  He has magnificent muscles on his wiry, compact body.  And it's so strange to see a slave with hairy balls!  

We get out and I go over and run my hands down the slave's back as he stands there stolidly pumping away.  I can feel scars everywhere, and as I move lower to his muscular arse and thighs, they're  there too.  The slave starts to shout at me to fucking leave him alone, but the foreman warns him to be silent else his food will be withheld.  And, as the foreman reminds him

"No food, and you won't be able to work.  If you don't work, you won't be fed....."

The slave shuts u, but I can tell from the way he is standing that he hates me for inspecting him in this way.

When I go around the front I see that his cock is sticking right out!  He has a big gold band at the root of his cock, around his cock and the top of his ball sack.,  It's about an inch wide, so his cock is made to jut out from his body - he's permanently semi-erect.  And he has big rings, about two inches in diameter, in his nipples. They flop up and down as he pounds away:  it must be agony!

The foreman tells me as we drive away that the nipple rings usually calm down unruly slaves as their constant motion reminds the slave of his status every time he moves.  And, of course, an Overseer can very conveniently deliver a punishment just by pulling on them.  This slave has been "banded" around the cock, too, as a mark of his difficult nature.  But none of this worked.

That night I left John watching TV - there's a good porno movie on, and I tell him not to get any ideas as he's only allowed to wank me and nothing more!

I go down to the stables, and check out a light, one-man chariot.  The pony is a tall young guy, who can't be more than 22 or 23.  The stable master says he's been selected for speed - I'm not going far, am I, as the slave does not have a great deal of  stamina but is good for a couple of quick sprints.  Another pony can of course be harnessed... But I tell him I'm in a hurry and not going far, so the current one will be satisfactory.

As we go out of the yard, I flick the carriage whip lightly onto his bum, and the boy almost starts to fly!   Using the reins I pull his head from side to side and guide him towards the pump, where the marine is still working away in the moonlight.

"Stop pumping for a minute, and listen to me", I shout.  And, reluctantly, I think, he does.

I move around in front of him and can't help looking a his cock stuck out like that. I say

"I need an assistant... I've got a lot of technical work coming up, and it's too difficult to train 'bred' slaves."

"Fuck off!"

"Suit yourself.  But how long are you going to last?  This will kill you, sooner or later... And absolutely no possibility of escape.  You owe it to yourself to maximise chances of escape, and to keep alive.. As my slave, you'd do that."

"You may be right, I suppose..."

"But I'm not going to have surly disobedience from you.  If I get you out of this, you've got to behave like a proper slave.  You can do whatever you like to try to plot and plan your escape, although I understand you risk death if it fails.  But the rest of the time you've got to behave 'properly', as a slave does.  So no arguing with my orders, no hesitancy, no disobedience of any kind - total submission to me, your master, as any slave would.  Do you agree?"

"OK, we've got a deal."

"No, slave.  We do not have a 'deal'. Slaves and masters don't deal.  Masters command, and slaves obey.  Now, do you want to be my slave, working for me?"

"Yes", quietly, with his head down a bit, as if in shame.

"Fuck you, Marine, or should I say Slave 397!" (I'd read his number, branded across his upper chest).

"You haven't learned... I said you were to behave as a slave, and you have not answered me as a slave should.  A slave should be happy to serve a master, always answers respectfully, and always addresses a master as 'master'.  I've a good mind to leave you here until you work yourself into exhaustion.  Last chance, 397...."

"Yes.... Master."

"Good!  One more test, to make sure you have understood the lesson.  I want you to give me the kiss of subservience and obedience."

"Master....", hesitantly, "I don't know what that is."

"When a master acquires a new slave, the new slave shows he worships his master's cock by kissing its head, reverentially."

I could see the ex-Marine fighting something within himself.  I felt sure I'd get another "Fuck you", and would have to leave him there to his fate.  But I think the logic of my arguments had got through to him, because after a moment or two he said, although it was almost in a whisper, not the crisp replies a slave usually gives....

"I understand, Master...."

"Kneel, then."

It felt amazing to have this big powerful piece of man meat, a trained killer, kneel in the dirt in front of me.  I took a couple of steps forward and thrust my hips forward a bit.  I could see the ex-Marine fighting within himself still, as he reached up with his filthy hands, pushed the leg of my shorts gently up my thigh and exposed my cock.

I said nothing, and continued to look.  His hands were trembling as he continued to hold my shorts leg up and moved his head towards me.  It was disgusting, really, to see his long shaggy hair - all slaves here are of course normally smooth - as his bowed head moved towards me.  And it was only a token kiss - his lips barely brushed my cock head.  But I decided to let it go - he was making remarkable progress in his obedience training."

He leaned back, and I could see the guy was almost crying with the stress he was under.

"Good,  397.  I shall call you 7 from now on.  Carry on working as usual, and tomorrow I will arrange for you to be picked up, cleaned like a proper slave, and brought to the site."

I turned and leapt into the pony cart.  I felt great - I was going to dominate this ex-Marine where all the so-called experienced masters had failed.  I would break him, and show them that English lads could teach Arabs a thing or two about controlling men!  I loved the feel of the cooler night air on me as the pony slave pulled me along, and wanted more, so I whipped him, and then again and again, until I sensed from the way he no longer reacted that he was going absolutely flat out.  But just to make sure, I kept lashing at his arse so that he didn't flag.

When we got back to the stables, the lad collapsed, and lay on the ground with his chest heaving and the breath rasping in and out of him.   The stable lads came out and helped him to his feet, and I could see that there was blood streaming from the places where I had perhaps been just a touch too enthusiastic in my urging of him to go faster.  The stable master then appeared, and I was worried for a moment that he was going to tell me off for harming the slave, but instead he just said

"You are obviously a skilled master, sir.  Too many of the masters who take out these livery ponies treat them too gently:  it takes a real master to appreciate how to drive them to their limits, so they are totally exhausted when they get back here.  And the less experienced riders never draw blood - it does the ponies good to be reminded of their position every now and again with a proper thrashing."

I felt like a million dollars!  This was the first time I'd controlled a pony, and I was considered to be an excellent driver.  

I was in such a good mood when I got back to our room that I tossed the slaves a biscuit (I'd had a small supply placed in our room, as "treats" for them as you would for a dog or any pet animal) .  But only one, as it is of course vital not to over feed them, as you don't want their bodies losing that superb chiselled look that only comes when there's absolutely no fat in evidence.  So 3 had to bite it in half, and it was touching to see how they looked at the two bits to decide which was slightly the larger, and then argue as 3 insisted that 6 have it.   He was still "looking out" for 6.

John was almost asleep when I got in beside him, but I slapped him on the arse and told him to get wanking - I really needed relief after all the night's excitement.

We had been working away for a couple of hours the next day when the guards arrived  with our new slave, 7.  John gasped when he saw the man - now, with his hair cut short and his genital area having received the slave's standard trim, he looked amazing - the way his cock was stuck out in front of him as a result of the wide ring meant that you couldn't help look at him.  And as he walked towards us, his naked feet slapping on the marble floor, you could see the two giant nipple rings bouncing up and down.  When we'd first arrived at the palace we had thought that it was humiliating for slaves to have to go naked - but this was an entirely different level of humiliation.

John and I were working in the ceiling again, riding 6 and 3.  So we used 7 to "fetch and carry" for us, bringing tools when we needed them, or carrying the end of a new cable from one of us to the other.  The ex-marine wanted his commands in English, but I knew that as part of his training - however unsuccessful that might have been - he would have been taught Aralish.  I was determined that he would be treated as a slave, exactly like 3 and 6, so I always commanded him in Aralish and refused to speak English to him.

Whenever he showed any signs of failing to obey the Aralish, I'd simply invent additional work, so that he was kept constantly running between John and me.  It was quite funny, actually, to see his cock sticking out as it did.  And a lot of the time he was hopelessly erect.  I thought it was a bit of a laugh, actually, to have him do all this unnecessary stuff just because of his stubborn pride. 

But he didn't tire as much as I wanted, and he still was not completely subservient, and still was reluctant to obey Aralish commands.  So I thought of a new humiliation for him - I started to use him as a walking tool box.  

Usually I carry all my commonly used tools in a leather workmen's belt around my waist, but it does get a bit hot and sweaty sometimes, even in England.  I hit on the idea of using the slave 7 to hold my special screwdrivers and wire-stripping pliers:  I simply dropped them down into his nipple ring - the blade of the screwdrivers went through, but the handles wouldn't.  Then he had to walk along beside 3 as I sat astride him, and I called down for whatever tool I needed.  And when I had finished with them, I would simply drop them on to the floor.  Hew had to bend down and retrieve them and put them back into his nipple ring, keeping his body upright at all times so that the others didn't fall out.

It was a real laugh to see him bobbing up and down - really humiliating, and painful, too, because of the  weight of the tools (especially the pliers) pulling down on his nipples.
 
You'd think the silly fucker would learn quite quickly, wouldn't you, that it would be sensible to obey orders correctly, and that I would then tire of playing games with him.  But no - he went on all morning, with a generally surly disposition and reluctance to do what he was told the first time.  E really had to be taught a further lesson.

So I got down from 3 and told 7 to take a roll of insulating tape to John who was at the other end of the room, still mounted on 6.  He went to take it from my hand, but instead I reached down and pushed it over his cock, which was erect and so readily to hand!  Then I told him to run along, and to be sure to keep excited as I didn't want the tape dropping off on to the floor!   
When he'd done that, he was my "tool box" again, but now he was also my personal tape dispenser - he had to stand there holding the roll on his cock for the rest of the morning.

At lunchtime I told 6 and 7 form a "sofa" for John and me as they have done before - we didn't do this much as, frankly, sitting on the hot sweaty backs of the slaves when our own arses were already hot and sticky from working was not all that good:  John and I usually preferred to sit on the cool marble floor.  But 7 wasn't used to being used as a piece of furniture, so I could further humiliate him by making him kneel in front of us on hands and knees so we could use his back as a table.  

As we moved our food around on his back, I pointed out the  scarring to John from his whippings.  I tell John, knowing that 7 is listening, that the scarring is permanent.  Not only can the Sheikh not sell him because of his brands, but most people in the palace won't even use him as it is so unsightly.

I carried on humiliating him all afternoon, using him as a tool box, and making him run up and down with a roll of tape carried on his cock - I saw that he particularly disliked this.  And when I needed a length of tape, I made him take a pair of pliers out from his tit ring, unwind a length of tape from the reel on his cock, cut it to length, and hand it up to me.

That night we lodged  all three slaves in their quarters next to us.  I deliberately leave the "doors" open so we can watch them through bars.  I say to John in a loud voice that "It's so convenient to have this new tape dispenser.  We'll never lose the tape again as we know it will always be around the slave's cock.  We'll use him that way every day."

7 completely "lost it", as I hoped he would, with my taunting.  He came to the bars, grabbed hold of them, and started screaming 

"You fuckers!  I'm not a slave!  I'm a man, like you!  If you were men, you'd help me get out of this hell hole and not humiliate me...."

I went up to the bars and said, calmly and quietly, so I contrasted with his furious raving

"You are a slave.  Remember, I can have you sent back to that pump, where you will certainly die sooner, rather than later.  But I'm not going to do that this time - You have to be punished for this insolence and I'm going to have a whipping instead."

"You fucker!  You don't scare me!  I've had more whippings than I can remember.  Marines don't break under the whip!"

I thought about this, and realised I was in a difficult situation - I could of course order him to be flogged to within an inch of his life, or even to death.  But if he didn't break, he would then have he upper hand.  But, equally, I'd said I was going to have a whipping, and I couldn't back down, for the same reason.

I consulted the phone book, picked up the phone, and within a couple of minutes one of the palace's punishment squads came into the room.  I whispered to the guard captain who was in charge of the six men quietly, then they went  to the cage and unlocked it.  Four of them went it (any more than that and they simply get in each other's way), and 7 backed into a corner taking up a fighting stance.

But the guards understood my requirements, and ignored 7, took 6 by the arm, and led him out into the bedroom, locking the cage now only holding 3 and 7 behind them.  Without saying another word they pushed 6 against the bars of the cage so his back was towards us and his front faced the astonished 3 and 7,  spread his arms apart so that his shoulders were protruding nicely and cuffed his wrists above his head to the bars of the cage, and spread his legs and similarly cuffed his ankles.

"Now, 7, your punishment.  You're going to have to stand there in that cage, looking at 6 here, whilst he takes your lashes.  Every  time you show me disrespect in future, 6 will be whipped.   You can explain your attitude and actions  to him and 3 later."

I told the guards to get started, but only to give 6 six lashes on that occasion.  

It's actually pretty fearsome to see a man whipped for real - not one of those mock whippings we'd seen over and over in the porno flicks on the TV.   There's a sinister "swish" as the end of the whip flies through the air, the "crack" as it strikes the flesh of the slave, and then the immediate scream of pain that is forced out from him, however hard he has tried to suppress it.  And I don't think "scream" is quite the right word, as it implies fear:  this sound comes from deeper down in the body, and is a great shout of pure anguish.

It was followed almost immediately by another cry - 3 had rushed up to the bars and was trying to comfort 6.  Then he turned, and simply flew at 7.  It was like a repeat of that fight we had seen them in all those months ago - although then 3 had been fighting as the Sheikh's champion, and was doing it as a "professional".  Now both men were fighting in absolute fury - 3 had lost all control, and would, I'm sure have killed 7 if he had not in turn been fighting back with that same determination and ferocity we'd seen before - I think all the suppressed rage and fury was coming out of him as he laid in to 3 in turn.

I spoke to the guard captain, and the four trained guards went back into the cell - rather them than me - to break up the two fighters.  They had to use their cattle prods on the two naked slaves to break them up and momentarily stun them, and then had them cuffed, as I had instructed:  they were stood back to back so their bums were touching, then had each one's right hand cuffed to the other's left, and vice versa.  

The whip master then gave 6 the remaining five lashes, and 3 and 7 could only stand there and watch - although they struggled and jerked at each other, they couldn't do each other any harm, cuffed as they were.  

6 was uncuffed, and with streaks of blood coming off his back was placed back into the cage.  3 wanted to comfort his friend, but had no use of his arms.

I went up to the bars and stood looking at them.  7 started to shout again

"You fucker!  You cunt! You..."

"Silence!" I snapped.  "One more word, and 6 here will get another six lashes.  And another six, and another, until you learn to behave properly and respectfully."  

"Now I'm going to leave you three to think about what has happened here.  Goodnight!", and I walked over and closed the doors separating the cage from our bedroom.

God, I was horny!  I leaped onto John, and told him to get wanking before I burst.

All through the night we could hear noises of shouting and talking coming though the doors from the cage, and John seemed very upset - I think he really didn't like the whipping.  But I hugged him to me, and told him not to worry, as I was looking out for him as I always did and knew what was best.

In the morning, I personally undid the cuffs holding 3 and 7.  All three slaves looked subdued, and I had to command them to kneel in front of me - even 3 forgot his normal courtesy.  They all clearly hadn't slept much, and I was concerned about 6 and went to look at his back - I was expecting to see a mass of dried blood, but it was clean and scabs had formed nicely over the six lines left by the whip.   

"How...?" I started to ask.

It was 7 who cut across me - I thought about punishing him again - "Master,  your slaves 3 and I Iicked the wounds of slave 6 so that he would recover quicker".  

It was his prefacing the answer with "Master" that saved him - perhaps my lessons were starting to bite home.

They were all sullenly silent still when we started work, but I knew that I had won a small victory:  As I sat on 3's muscled shoulders waiting to start work in the ceiling again, 3 sort of shook his head at 7 in a gesture.  Blushing deeply, 7 picked up a roll of insulating tape and stuck over his prick without being commanded to by me.  The slaves had obviously worked something out between themselves!       

That evening I kept the slaves' evening biscuits from them, and we worked on.  Normally I allowed 3 and 6 to feed at 18:00 promptly, as it only meant stopping for a few moments whilst they crunched down their meagre rations of four slave biscuits.  But tonight I made them wait until they were all in their cage.  

First I locked the door, then told them to shower, and be quick about it.  I made sure the water was icy cold - that's one of the little refinements that's been fitted to these master/slave combination rooms:  the water in the palace is never usually cold, only lukewarm  from the desert's heat, so slaves normally shower in "raw" water that is not heated explicitly.  But in these master/slave rooms, you can mix cold into the normal supply of hot water as you can in any normal western hotel, and - here's the difference -  it's icy cold chilled water from the palace air conditioning system.  

The slaves all hated the icy water as it splashed over them, but I insisted they all stood under it for five minutes before turning it off.  They all tried to huddle together to stop the water causing them so many problems, but even so by the time they had finished they were all shivering and were all covered with goose bumps.  3 and 6 rubbed each other's bodies to try to get some warmth back, but even though they offered to do this to 7, he stood aloof I noticed. 

I then told them to kneel against the bars of our room, and then fed them individually:  I gave 3 and 6 each four of the large size slave bars, making them take each one from my outstretched hand individually, and lick my finger tips in reverence as they did so.  Then I went to give 7 four of the medium sized bars (his smaller body mass did not warrant the full size bars).  After the first one, I told him to lick my fingers but he just knelt there sullenly.  When he didn't lick them after the second one, I just said

"You're obviously not hungry tonight", and went and fed 3 and 6 the two remaining biscuits.  Then I simply shut the doors of the cage, so John and I did not have w to look at them again.

John was upset again by my treatment of 7, and said I should at least have fed him, even if I made him get cold.  

"You know how little excess food they have", he said, "So every bit is vital to them.  The poor guy will not be able to sleep tonight..."

"Good.  If he's hungry, and deprived of sleep, he'll perhaps be a bit more compliant tomorrow."

We spent the rest of the evening eating our meal and watching a porno flick, but John seemed very silent.  When we were in bed and I as looking forward to a good wank with him, he turned over so that he was facing away from me!  I "spooned" up against him, and went to reach over his body to grab his cock, but I got a muffled

"Fuck off, will you?" for my troubles.

I lay there for about an hour, but John didn't seem to be coming around - why he was so upset about me giving 7 a lesson I can't imagine.  But he wasn't going to get the better of me, so I got up and made my way down to the pleasure rooms again.  Funny, without John watching I could easily get it up and that big olive-skinned slave I'd had before really does do a fantastic job.

When I went back to the room I too turned around, so that it was only our bums that made occasional contact during the night.

The following morning I opened the doors to the cage and again told the slaves to kneel as I was going to give them breakfast individually, and again the same thing happened - I fed 7 two of his ration, but wouldn't give him the rest as he had not licked my finger tips as  a grateful slave should.  Again, I gave the biscuits to 3 and 6.

They almost got away with it!  If I hadn't turned back to shout at John as I was going into the bathroom, I wouldn't have seen 3 and 6 each pop the biscuits out of their mouths and give them to 7.  Even though they were soaked with the slaves' spit, 7 greedily stuffed them into his mouth and crunched them up - I guess he must have been desperately hungry.  All three of them continued to kneel there, 7 looking defiant, 6 looking worried, and 3 looking bewildered, as if he didn't quite know what he had done.

Work that day wasn't a barrel of laughs.  7 looked almost defiant as he slipped a roll of insulating tape over his prick.  John wasn't really speaking to me except for the absolute minimum to get the work done, and both 3 and 6 seemed downcast somehow and 3 did not have that "ever eager to please" look that means his face is often smiling.

But that evening I was faced with open defiance from all of them.  As they knelt, shivering from their icy shower that this time went on for eight minutes, I told 7 he wasn't going to get any more than half rations - two biscuits - unless he properly thanked the hand that fed him.  Surely, I thought, it's humiliating enough to have to be hand-fed by your master - what possible difference can licking his fingers make?  But he didn't, and after two biscuits I told all three of them that the other two biscuits were not going to 3 and 6 as they had that morning, as they had greatly displeased me by thwarting my wishes and giving the extra to 7.

I told them they could get up, and then I saw something quite extraordinary - 3 went to kiss 7!  He'd never done that before, as 7 always pushed him away, although he and 6 kissed frequently, and deeply.  Now 7 had his mouth locked on 3's, and they were obviously deep tonguing each other!  What had brought about this amazing increase in comradeship, I wondered?

Then I realised what had happened - 3 had the crunched up remains of his last biscuit in his mouth, and was sharing it with 7.  Complete defiance of my wishes - if not of my exact orders, as I had not forbidden them to do this of course.

I hid my feelings, as it was important not to let 7 see that he had bested me, but was in a pretty foul mood as I shut the cage doors.  John knew this, but said something fucking stupid like "Well, it's your own fault....."

We didn't speak at all that evening, and if there had been two beds in the room, I'd have kicked him out and made him sleep in the other one. As it was, we just lay there silently, each cross with the other.  Those slaves were coming between me and my best mate.

The next morning I told John to say nothing, whatever I did. I was pissed off enough at him as it was, and I told him that if he criticised me again for my handling of the slaves, especially in front of them, I'd find another room.

So he just stood there and watched as I fed 3  three of his four biscuits, and made him open his mouth after each one so I could ensure he had swallowed them all.  Then I gave him his fourth one, and as he was crunching it, I said

"Feeding time's over for this morning.  Those slaves who did not get fed will have to wait until tonight, unless 3 here wants to share anything with you!"

I could see 3's brain trying to cope with the dilemma he now faced - he only had a little soggy biscuit chewed up in his mouth, and he really needed that himself - it was one of his fight training afternoons that day.  But 7 and his lover 6 had had none at all, and by the evening they would be ravenous.  He stood there, and then went and basically "kissed" each of 6 and 7, transferring a little of the slave biscuit to each.   I noticed that 7 was relatively fastidious, basically just taking the biscuit that was given to him as 3's tongue pushed it out, but 6 ravenously licked all around the inside of 3's mouth to clean out the last traces of biscuit - but then, he was used to having is tongue deep inside 3!

During the day I made sure that both slaves worked hard:  I insisted that John rode 6 all day, so he had to cope with John's weight for protracted periods.  And I made sure that John and I were working at opposite ends of the long entrance hall, so that 7 could be kept running backwards and forwards between us carrying messages and tools.

When I came to give the slaves their meal that evening I had another test up my sleeve:  I fed 3 all four of his biscuits and made him eat them down totally.  Then I gave him three biscuits and said "Here - you feed 6 and 7."

I could see him looking at the biscuits, and knowing that there was not enough to feed one slave, let alone two.  And remember that they had not been properly fed that morning either.  It was pure torture for him - yes, torture, that is what it was:  not only was the slave totally unused to make decisions of any kind, but now he had a terrible dilemma.  He had to choose whether to almost starve his long-time lover, 6, and totally starve 7.  Or whether to half-starve both.

He looked as if he was going to cry as he gave each slave one biscuit, then broke the other one in half and gave half to each one.  We all knew that one and a half biscuits was not sufficient to feed the slaves after a hard day's work - remember, they were kept permanently lean anyway, so had no body fat reserve to rely on.

To my annoyance I saw that 7 did not eat his biscuit and a half, but went to give them to 6!  I commanded 6 to hand them back to me, and all three slaves had to watch as I threw the precious food into the waste bin in the corner of our room.

Calling 7 to one side of the cage, I told him in a quiet voice in English so that 3 and 6 should not understand 

"This is going to get you nowhere.  All you have succeeded in doing is hurting both slaves - 6 will go very hungry tonight as your actions prevented him being fed this morning and only getting quarter rations tonight.  And you may think that 3 is OK, but look at the poor guy - he's torturing himself with worry because he has to decide which of you will be fed and which will starve whilst he remains comfortable."

"So wise up, and start to think and behave like a slave.  You may choose to starve yourself by nobly handing over your food, but it will not benefit the others as you have seen.  Your wilful disobedience to my wishes has caused all this - even though they were not express commands, you knew that you should be properly grateful for being fed from my hands and show this by kissing them.  A proper slave would see what his master wanted, and do it even though he would prefer not to."

He stood there, looking at me with a mixture of hate and resignation.  I thought hat perhaps I was winning again.

"Master..... "

"You dare to speak without being asked a question, slave?"

"Master... I'm sorry.  Sorry for speaking. But I needed to beg you to do something for slave 6.  I know it is all my fault that he is suffering now, but you can change that:  please, master, feed 6."

"I said yesterday that I do not bargain with slaves, 7.  But I am now going to set you a test.  If I agree to feed 6, will you agree to being fed as I want you to be fed?"

"Master... Is this a trick?  If I say 'yes', I have bargained with you, and slaves must not do that.  If I say 'no', I am still being disobedient..."

"Very clever, 7.  No - a simple question... If I feed 6 now, will you agree to consume nourishment yourself, as I command?"

"Yes, Master.  Please feed 6.  He knows that your displeasure is not his fault, but does not understand what he can do to make you pleased with him.  I know he is very hungry, but, worse, he is confused.  And, as you said, 3 is deeply upset and worried.  I do not want my fellow slaves to suffer."

"Very well.  But remember, 7, that I totally control you slaves.  If I feed 6 now and you subsequently disobey me, understand that I will automatically, without any further discussion and without any hope of me changing my mind, starve both you and 6 for the next 48 hours."

I went over to the box where I kept the supply of additional biscuits as "treats", took out two, called 6 over, and allowed him to take them from my fingers into his mouth.  He had not heard or understood my conversation with 7, so thought that whatever he had done to displease me must now be all right.  The poor lad was almost crying.

"Now 7, for your meal.  I think you're in need of pure protein.  So no biscuits for you... But you are hungry, and I want you to have a couple of mouthfuls of delicious pure man-milk.  Go over and suck both 3 and 6 until they cum, and be sure to take every drop down your throat - you can't afford to miss out on a drop of nourishment!"

The look of pure hate that filled his eyes told me that I had not yet won the battle to tame this slave, but he did at least start to obey my order.  He went over and knelt in front of 3, took the slave's enormous cock into his mouth, and started to suck.

I could tell that he was not an expert at this - there was no way he could get 3's larger than average cock into his mouth.  And unlike our bath slaves or the one who had serviced me so well in the pleasure rooms, he did not seem to have a knack for doing anything to particularly excite.  So it took a long time for 3 to cum, but I knew that when he did 7's mouth must have been filled with cum because 3 was capable of producing very large quantities.  

7 was obviously not used to drinking cum, because as 3 shot he pulled away and was choking and gagging.  I made him lick up the cum which was spilled on to the floor, then commanded a second performance, with 6.

As I shut the doors covering the bars of their cage, I saw 3 and 6 lying together as usual, but 7 was sitting against the wall on the far side, in that position of abject misery I'd seen before - knees drawn up, and head slumped down.  He clearly felt totally humiliated and degraded by being forced to drink slave cum in this way, at my command, and whilst John and I watched. 

That night John continued his policy of an icy silence towards me.  And I was really pissed off - it was bad enough having to cope with the slaves, without having him playing up as well. So I didn't even think about going to bed with him so that he could lie with his back turned to me - as soon as I had eaten dinner I went down to the pleasure room where the olive skinned slave soon relieved some of my tensions.  

When I went back to our room, John was pretending to be asleep, so I just ignored him.  And in the morning I didn't even have to wake him up as I usually did - he had been tossing and turning all night, and hadn't slept much so that, unusually for him, he was awake when I was.

I wasn't going to have this all day again, so I said

"Look, John, don't fuck me around, will you?  It's bad enough trying to get control of these slaves as it is, and I need your support and help not your fucking sullen dumb criticism!"

He didn't say anything, so I continued

"If you carry on like this I'm going to quit.  I'll work with you until the end of the contract, but one of us can find another room.  Then you can be alone every night by yourself, not saying a word, as you have been this week.  So either change your attitude, or change your mate.  Now, which is it to be?"

He sat there quiet, then said

"Steve......."

"Yes?"

"Steve... You're the best mate I've ever had.  In London, on the site, it was fantastic.  And the first time we came to this country.   But this time it all seems to have gone wrong - I thought it was getting better, with you  and me wanking each other.  I really liked that.  But the way you're treating those slaves.... It upsets me."

"Don't be an even more stupid cunt than you usually are, John!  If I don't control these slaves, who will?  You?"

"No, Steve... It's just that....."

"Just nothing!  Tell me what you'd do, or shut your fucking mouth, change your attitude, and let me get on with it!"

"Steve... I don't know."

The poor guy was trembling now, and I could see that I'd gone too far.  It wasn't fair to get John to have to make choices and decisions, as it upset him.  So I calmed down a bit, changed my tone and went and stood beside him and said

"Look, mate, it's for the slaves' own good!  3 and 6 were OK, they're used to being slaves.  But that ex-Marine, 7, isn't and his behaviour is upsetting the others.  He has to be taught to behave properly for the good of all of them."

"Why don't we simply send him back, Steve?  We don't really need him on the site."

"Because, you stupid idiot, I was trying to save him.   You saw him chained to that pump - how long did you think he would last?  I thought that if we took him, he would at least have a chance to live a bit longer.  And if he's going to work for us with the other slaves, he's just got to learn to behave like a slave.  I'm determined to break his rebellious spirit and tame him properly."

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing, John.  We do it my way, or we don't do it at all.  Now - are we mates again, or are we going our separate ways?"

"Steve.... Steve..... Are you sure you're right?"

"I'm always right.  You know me, mate!"

"Well OK, then, I suppose so".  

For the first time in days I saw him cheer up a bit.  He visibly straightened as some of the tensions in his body seemed to drop out.  I decided to press home my advantage

"OK.  Now I'm going to open the doors for the next stage of the training:  no interference, right?  And if I tell you to do something, you do it.  OK?"

"Yes, Steve."

So I opened the doors, and fed 3 and 6 with their daily ration of biscuits.  I again made 7, with the threat of punishing 6 held over him, suck 3 and 6 and take their cum down.  John and I had been standing there watching, and I was hard - partially because I hadn't relieved my morning hard-on, and partially because it was quite erotic to see the trim, lithe ex-marine on his knees sucking off the two giant studs who towered over him.

I commanded 7 to kneel right up against the bars of the cage, and to open his mouth.

"I'm going to be generous this morning, 7.  You have already had two good doses of man protein, but I'm going to feed you some more."

As I spoke, I started to jack myself off, and I knew it would only take a few strokes to bring me to climax.  As I felt it coming, I moved up to the bars and as I shot I aimed my prick so that my cum flew into 7's open mouth.   

As he swallowed my load, he said nothing, but I could tell from the look of pure hate in his eyes that he knew just how humiliated he was, having to kneel there and take it from me like that.  

I looked at John, and said "Your turn now.  This is all the food 7 is going to get until tonight, so be sure to give him a nice big helping."

I thought John might defy me, and saw that he was struggling with himself.  But he did do as I told him - so perhaps we were almost back to normal - and went up to the cage and started to wank.  But I could tell it wasn't easy for him, as  he's usually one of those guys who cums extremely quickly once he starts stroking his meat, and now he just stood there thrashing at it as if it was an inanimate sausage.  I could see sweat breaking out all down this naked back with the effort he was making, and I even think he was blushing.  Well, I suppose if you can't cum it is a bit demeaning - especially when you have two big buck slaves watching who could cum almost without touching themselves, and you've seen your best mate do it, too.

The poor guy needed a helping hand, so I went and stood behind him and pushed my resting prick up against his ass crack, and my chest into his back.  Then I reached around his body and put my hand on top of his as he continued to jerk himself.  I don't know whether it was feeling my body against him again, or having my hand on his prick again, but he quickly shot.  But if I hadn't been there and aimed his cock properly at the last moment, he would have missed 7's mouth!  He always needs a bit of last minute advice and encouragement, does John - I have to look after him all the time.

As we walked along the miles of corridor in the palace towards today's work - still replacing the main supply cables to the kitchens complex - I could hear 7's guts rumbling.  He was obviously desperately hungry, as the amount of nourishment in even four big loads of cum just isn't enough to keep a man going.  But all to the good, I thought - I wanted him weakened for the next stage of his re-education.  So all day whenever there was any really heavy work, like moving the heavy cables from one place to the other, I commanded him to do it and ordered 6 and 3 away if they tried to help.

His plight was made worse by another icy shower that night, and as I stood looking through the bars at all three slaves I said 

"Before I feed any of you, Master John and I want a bit of entertainment.  We'd like to see slave 7 fucked by slave 6."

7 lost it again, and started screaming at me about not having a prick up his arse.  He went to a corner of the cage and took up the fighting stance, and I could see 6 looking very worried.  He didn't want to disobey me, he knew that 7 was a trained fighter and he was not, and, I suppose, he couldn't understand what he problem was anyway - why wouldn't a slave have another slave fuck him, after all? Remember, he was a farmed slave, who had been introduced to sex at an early age and who knew that it was perfectly natural for slaves to enjoy each other totally.

I looked at 3 and said to him "I'm afraid that 6 might get hurt here, as you know only too well what a vicious fighter 7 is."

I changed my tone, and looking at all three of them said "Well, then.  I think before 6 fucks 7, we'd better have 7's arse stretched a bit.  You can go first, 3."

3 was so relieved that I had "saved" 6 that he threw himself on to 7.   It was a repeat of that first fight of theirs, except  hat 3 was no longer the cool professional, either.  I think he knew that 7 would have seriously hurt 6, and simply went at the guy in his anger and frustration.

It wasn't much of a fight, actually, because of course 7 was much weakened by the lack of food and the icy cold showers - his muscles were not warmed up properly and he had had no time to exercise and stretch.  I had planned it this way as I didn't want either slave to seriously incapacitate the other.  I was glad when 3 soon had 7 pinned under him and started to fuck him, remorselessly and hard, just as he had that first time.

When he'd climaxed and had pulled out he stood there with his cock covered in cum and 7's crap.  7 was spread-eagle across the floor, arms and legs lying all over the place - he was defeated, beaten.

"Right, 6, off you go!", I commanded.

6 went between 7's outstretched legs, knelt down, and started to move his massive cock towards 7's arse.

"No, stop!", I commanded.  "I think 7 ought to be able to look at you."

I issued my commands to 3, and he went over to the supine 7, and flipped him over from where he had been lying belly-down, onto his back.  Before 7 could react further, 3 went behind him and knelt on his shoulders, facing down 7's body - I didn't want 3 to straddle 7.  Then as I had instructed, 6 picked up 7's legs and gave them to 3 to hold.

7's arse had come high into the air, and we could see his shaved arse hole with 3's cum still dribbling out of it. 

"Right!  Now go to it, 6", I snapped.  "And I want to see long, hard thrusts, going all the way in."

Now as we all know, it can be painful on occasions to take a thick-cocked man up your arse when you're face down.  But face up and spread-legged, with your arse raised in the air and your arse hole completely exposed, it's another matter - the thruster can get that last half inch or so into your arse, as it's more readily accessible.  And he can really slam into you, so his pubic bone goes into that sensitive area between your hole and your prick.  I've now found that being fucked on my back is always more painful than on my face - and it isn't just the cock going into you, it's the constant pounding that he can give you that goes on hurting as he thrusts away.

7 was no exception, and as 6's big thick prick pounded into him he started to gasp in time to it, the gasps turning into little shouts as I commanded 6 to show him no mercy and really fuck him hard.  

7 could of course look up at 6's face as 6 fucked away, and 6 could look down and see the look of humiliation and pain on 7's.  But what was worse for 7 was that 3 and 6 leaned forward and started to kiss each other deeply as 6 fucked away - that made 3's prick fall over 7's face, of course, as his body moved forward.

6 came with a great shout, and he and 3 embraced and kissed again.  I could see tears  - whether from pain, or from humiliation and rage, I couldn't tell, streaming down 7's face.

"OK slaves, we're off to work now", I said, and went and unlocked their cage door.

I allowed 3 and 6 to wash the arse juice and shit off their pricks in our bathroom, but I made sure that 7 would continue to be humiliated throughout the day by not allowing him to wash - I didn't even allow him to use any toilet tissue to wipe away the cum that was now running down his thighs.  He had to follow us through the palace, exuding that unmistakable smell that tells everyone that the slave has just been used for sex.

That night I again restricted 7's feeding, and made him shower in the icy cold water, but I didn't command 3 or 6 to fuck him again.  I noticed that he still slept apart from them, and, if anything, looked more wretched than the day before.

John wanted to go to bed early and watch a film, but I said "No, time for a change!  I've got something special lined up for you, John", and made him come with me down to the pleasure rooms.

He looked really nervous when we went in, but I told the chief honcho to bring out "my" olive-skinned lad.  

"Right, John!  You liked those bath slaves sucking you off, and you like wanking with me - well, this is going to be a new experience with you.  Go off with this lad and let him show you what being sucked is like when you've got the chance to really lie down and relax."

"No, Steve, I....."

"Yes you do!  You didn't think you'd enjoy wanking with your mate, did you?  Well, trust me - you will enjoy this, too.  Now run along, and I'll see you back here in about an hour."

"An hour... Steve.... "

"Yes, it will take that long.  He's a real master at it, and he can hold you on the edge for ages and ages.  He's the one I've been using, and I like him, so I know you will."

With that, I sort of dismissed them both, and the olive-skinned slave led a still-reluctant John off to one of the private rooms.

Even I felt embarrassed next - I turned to the "master of ceremonies" and said "Look, there's something....."

"Something master wants to do?  Something strange and exotic, something that requires a slave with exceptional athletic ability, something......"

"No.  Just something ordinary, really.  It's just that.....", and I stopped, because I've never been used to talking about things like this. 

"Sir, anything you want can be supplied here in the pleasure rooms..."

"Well.... It's..... It's just that I want to fuck a slave up the arse."

"But of course, sir.  All masters do that."

"Yes... But..... ", I was really cringing now.  "It's just that I have never done it before, and I'm afraid I'll do it wrong."

To his credit, the Overseer in charge of the pleasure rooms obviously understood my predicament.  He came closer to me and lowered his voice to say, conspiratorially 

"Sir, occasionally we do get masters who need to learn to control slaves fully when they have not done so.  It happens to Overseers, too, when we recruit them to work in the Palace.  It can indeed be difficult as a mature man to start these things later in life, and you are understandably concerned....  However we have a whole range of gentle, fully compliant slaves who you can practise on.  And of course they will be grateful for whatever a master does to them...."

"No, it's not that.  I don't think I know enough about it to be able to command a slave to do what I want exactly.  I don't want a passive slave just waiting for me to make the running.... " 

 I was finding it difficult now to pick my words to say exactly what I did want - I'm not used to even thinking that I want any of this stuff, let alone being able to say that I want it!

"What I really need is a slave who is able to take control fully, and show me what to do."

"Ah, I see, sir.  You ant a dominant slave, who will fuck you...."

"NO!  Absolutely not!  I'm not going to be fucked by anyone!  I need a slave who will teach me how to fuck him!"  I was shouting now, and had quite forgot my embarrassment at this whole thing.

"Of course, sir.  Now I understand.  We have a small number of special slaves ,who are usually used when a master wants his son to have 'lessons' in proper slave fucking technique - however much a father loves his son, he isn't necessarily the best teacher of these things.  It's difficult for the slaves, as they have to almost forget that they are slaves.  It's difficult to teach them that, for some short periods, they must take charge so that the master can fully enjoy himself."

"So we have a very limited selection, I'm afraid."  He turned to his PC and called up a few images.

"There are three, basically.  This 17-year old"  - a lithe, "lad" type,  appeared.

"This nicely muscled 'swimmer', about your build and age, I would say, sir"

"And this muscle stud." I saw a picture of a big, 6'6" "rugger type".

He went on "Would you like to see any of their bodies in close up, or shall I arrange for them to be paraded in front of you, sir, so that you can choose?"

I was all in confusion again.  I didn't think a 17-year old could really tell me what to do.  And the big muscle stud just looked too scary.  On the other hand, they were both slaves, and used to obeying orders, and I was certain the training they had had would make them satisfactory... Perhaps I should see them all together.  

But, no!  Time was running out.  I'd said an hour to John, and I needed to get on with it.  So I said "The one like me, I think."

He pressed a couple of keys on the PC, looked at a message on the screen, and said "Follow me then, sir."

As we walked along the corridor in  the pleasure rooms, I was more nervous than I can remember being for years - it was just as if I was about to lose my virginity again!  I could feel my face all red and hot, sweat was trickling down inside my loose T, and I could feel little drops of it running over my ribs.   

The Overseer opened a door, and I went into a "conventional" western-style room that could have been in any hotel anywhere. 

There was a slave standing there, who was almost exactly like me in appearance, as I had seen on the screen.  But immediately I found out a big difference from other slaves.... Instead of just standing there, waiting for my orders, as a slave normally would, he came across the room towards me.

He was smiling broadly as he did so, stopped in front of me, said "Hi.....", and then, before I had any time at all to react, he reached out and hugged me, holding my body close to his nakedness.  Then he looked straight at me and started to kiss me, wrapping a hand behind my head to pull my mouth towards his.  I was so startled that my mouth opened as if by reflex, and instantly I could feel his tongue probing at mine, and stabbing into it.  

Actually, it was a bit like kissing a bird - but a thousand times better - most of them like you tonguing them, even on a first date, but they don't want to kiss you back.  But this slave was... was....  well, the only word I can think of to describe it is "passionate."

He kissed me, and was running his spare hand up and down my back, first on top of the T and then under it.  I felt his hand go down the back of my sweat shorts, and cup my ass.

He adjusted the position of his legs, which were intertwined with mine, to get more comfortable, and then his hand was cupping my balls and feeling my cock, outside my shorts.

It was absolutely amazing - I'd never had another bloke treat me like this before.  

He broke away from my mouth, stood back a pace, and said 
"Let's get those clothes off you, so I can see that lovely body of yours completely....", and before I could react, he as helping to push my T up over my head, and then to push my shorts down.  

We stepped away, so that I was out of the crumpled shorts lying on the carpet, and he started to hug me again.  Our cocks were now pushed together, and I could feel an amazing sensation all up my chest as he slowly and sensuously moved himself against me and our two treasure trails rubbed together.

He carried on kissing me, and I had responded now by rubbing my hands all over his body, too, and feeling his firm, tight arse and his generous ball sac.  This was completely different than the "inspections" I had seen masters making of slaves in the slave market, when their inspection of the slave's body is altogether more clinical.

He pushed me gently backwards, so that we fell onto the bed, and we continued to kiss and explore each other's bodies.  I had never realised how amazing a complete mutual exploration of another man's flesh could be, when you're both in the heat of sexual passion, and we  tossed and turned, rolling around the bed so that one was first on top, and then the other.  

I lost track of how long it went on for, but suddenly he broke away and whispered in the ear that he had just been licking  

"Master, fuck me.  Please, master, fuck me.  I need to feel you inside me.  Please, master!"

It all seemed perfectly natural.  He rolled over onto his stomach, pressed his shoulders into the bed and moved his arse a bit up into the air.  It was as if I knew instinctively what to do - I knelt between his outstretched legs, and moved my erect prick in towards him. 

He reached around behind himself and pulled his arse cheeks apart, so that I could see his lovely puckered arse hole, freshly shaved and looking so inviting.  I touched the tip of my prick to it, and it was almost like a bolt of electricity shooting through me - I never thought a man's arse hole would be warm and feel so inviting.

"Please, master.  Please, master, would you like me to lube myself first?  I know we were both excited, but master might enjoy me more if he could slide easily...."

"Yes, slave, you're right.  But quick about it!"

He'd pointed out to me that I hadn't lubed in quite a nice way, really, and I was glad of this experienced slave now.  He was remarkably agile, and with a quick flip of his body had rolled to the side of the bed, pulled out a tube of K-Y, and was back next to me.  

Laughing and smiling, he kissed me again whilst reaching down and spreading the K-Y over my erect prick - I almost came there and then, as it was so erotic to have a guy do this to me whilst kissing me passionately.

But another flip of his body, and he was lying down again in front of me, reaching around and pushing the K-Y up his hole whilst I watched.  He was very quick at it, and pushing his face down into the bed covers, I heard him say in a muffled voice

"Now, master.  Now.  Please take me now, master.  I can't wait for you to be inside me, master.  Please...."

So I pushed my prick at him again, then realised I had to push harder to get my cock head in through his sphincter.  As soon as it was in, I found I could easily push it in much further, with very little effort.  The slave, head still muffled by the bed covers, was going 

"Yes, oh yes.  That's good.  Yes,  Yes...." 

As I thrust in and out of him I thought it was the best sensation in my life - better ever than all those birds.  This is what men are meant to do to each other, I knew now.

It was great to be able to vary my speed and my stroke - sometimes going fast, sometimes infinitely slowly.  And sometimes just quick little "ins and outs" of an inch or so, and sometimes pulling out until I felt the flange of my cock head almost pop out, and then thrusting back in to my whole length.

I just couldn't stop myself cumming - much too quickly.  I wanted it to go on for ever.  And I collapsed forward onto the slave's back, still inside him whilst my cock started to subside.  It was great to feel his sweaty back on my sweaty chest.

"Thank you, master.  Thank you... Thank you...." -the slave seemed genuinely pleased.  If he as faking it, it was bloody good.

I pulled out of him, and he wriggled around so that he was then lying on his back, with our chests together.  He reached out to kiss me again, and hugged me.  Our sweat-soaked bodies rubbed together, and I could feel his erect cock nudging at my now flaccid one.

Then he gently pushed me off him, lay me down on my back, and bent over me to clean up my cock!  I realised that he must have been very clean up his arse, as there was no shit or anything on it - just sweat and my spunk.

I was still panting, and my heart was still racing, but I knew that John would be waiting for me so I went and showered.  The slave of course followed me into the shower, and washed me so tenderly I started to get erect all over again.  Rubbing his body against mine, hugging me, and kissing me as he helped me shower was again one of the most fantastic things I have ever experienced - why don't all men do that when they shower together, I wondered, and thought of all the time I had wasted in communal showers with lots of guys around - we could have been having a ball.

Having another guy help you dress is also very sensual, especially when he does totally intimate things for you, like settling your balls gently into your shorts - I didn't think that was the sort of thing another guy could do for you, but he can!

We kissed a final goodbye, and I went out into the hall.  They say you always remember your first time, and I would always remember this.

John had a big idiotic grin on his face - it almost matched mine.  

"Good time?", I asked him.

"Fan - fucking - tastic, Steve!  Did you have that slave when you came down here, and that's why you knew he was so good?"

"Yes."

"And you gave him up to me?  But why are you grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat?  What new slave have you had sucking at you?"

"That'll be for you to find out soon, John.  Come on, let's go back to bed as we have to start early in the morning."

That night John actually snuggled up to me and was all over me - he wanted us to wank each other, but I wanted to lie there and have my body remember the feeling of the slave.  But I soon realised that John's body felt good, too.  So as he reached out to me again and started to grope for my cock, I reached for his head, held it, and kissed him.

He resisted at first, but then his mouth opened and I pushed my tongue in.  Soon, we were kissing passionately, our tongues beating against each other and our spit mingling.  

We broke off, and John said in a small voice  "Steve.... I'm worried."

"Why?"

"Look, mate, you and I are here naked in this bed.  Well.. You know.... Well, wanking was one thing....."

"Yes?"

"Well... It's just that I suppose you can sleep with a mate, as a lot of guys have to do that camping, if they're in the army on manoeuvres, or if you've got relatives staying at Christmas.   And wanking another guy is really only like wanking yourself, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, John."

"But kissing like that.... It isn't right, is it?  I mean, that's what gays do, isn't it?  And you've always told me that's totally wrong...."

"Look, John, how can anything that two best mates do together be wrong?  I didn't force you, did I?  And you're certainly not forcing me!  So if we both want to do it, and if we both enjoy it.....  You did enjoy it, didn't you?"

"Of course, you know I did, don't you?"

"Well then, how can it be wrong? "

I could sort of feel him tensing up, trying to think of an answer, so to shut him up I kissed him again.  And as I was doing it, I felt down for his cock and started to wank him.  

I carried on kissing him for a bit, with my hand gently stroking his cock, then broke off and moved down his body.  He tensed and arched his back when I first kissed, and then nibbled at, his nipples, and he was uttering little moans of pleasure.  I let my tongue run all down his stomach, and finally I kissed the tip of his cock.  He was moaning with pleasure by now, so I decided to go the whole way.

I really didn't know if I would like a cock - even John's cock - in my mouth.  I'd pulled his foreskin well back, and when I first pressed my lips to the moist head, it felt sensuous and much warmer than I thought.  There was an interesting taste as I slipped a couple of inches of his cock into my mouth, experimentally. I now know that a lot of cocks have that strange "animal" taste, if it isn't completely overridden by bath oils and soap.  It's something to do with it lying against the powerful sweat glands down there - and it's a real turn on.  But I couldn't bring myself to suck him off that first time - instead, I sucked for a moment or so, then went back to kiss his mouth passionately, whilst wanking him to a giant climax now that his cock had been moistened by my spit.

Usually when we wanked each other we used paper tissues to catch the cum at the crucial moment, but this time I was too busy and I felt his hot cum spurt all over my body.  Whilst still kissing him I rubbed our bodies together, so that his cum made a slick layer between us, allowing us to slip and slide over each other.  The scent of his cum came up to our noses as we did this, and I was so aroused that the moment his hand reached out and started to wank me, I cane, too.

Later we just lay there, the cum drying on us and that smell filling the room.  

"Fucking hell, John!  So how was that for you?"

"Steve, I.... I..... I don't know.  It was... Well.... The best thing that has ever happened to me.  You really are a good mate to do that for me."

"Get to sleep, you sexy beast!  We have to get those slaves up early tomorrow as we have a lot of work still to do in the kitchen block!"   

The next morning I decided to move on to the next part of my plan to tame 7.  Firstly, I fed 3 and 6 with their full ration.  Then, as 7 knelt, expecting me to feed him a load of my cum for breakfast, I instead gave him four biscuits, noting that he properly now licked my fingers in gratitude after each one.  I was of course naked whilst doing this, and was sporting my morning erection, so I imagine hat he though that I was going to jerk off into him.  

He crunched up all four biscuits hungrily, and then, to his astonishment, I gave him a fifth, but turned away before he started to crunch it up.    I was pleased to see that a moment later he had taken the spit-soaked biscuit out of his mouth, had bitten it in half, and was offering a half to 3 and 6.  This was, I hoped, the first part of his proper "bonding" with them, to make a team of slaves who were fully integrated.

That afternoon I got John to take 6 and 7 continue to work on our renovation of the wiring in the palace kitchens, whilst I took 3 with me over to our store, telling John that I needed the big slave to carry a drum of cable back for us.  In the store room, I commanded 3 to kneel down on all fours, and press his forehead to the floor.  As he knelt there, I couldn't help but admire his fantastic muscled arse - the cheeks were straining as he knelt there, and I could see the outline of his muscles stretching down into his equally delightful thighs.

I dropped my work shorts, and my erection sprang upwards.  I knelt down in-between 3's legs, and pushed my prick at his arse hole, which was invitingly pink between his heavily tanned cheeks.  I decided that I would not fuck him totally dry, so I spat onto my fingers then probed his hole to make the initial centimetre or so a bit slick.  I then spat on my fingers again, and rubbed them all over my cock head - I was so close to cumming already, that the touch of my own fingers on my head was almost enough to make me cum.

As I pushed at him, 3 gave out a little groan.

"Is there a problem, slave?"

"NO!, master.  It's...."

"Yes, you may answer."

"Master has never fucked me before.  Usually masters do not fuck us draft slaves - masters only fuck the slaves in the pleasure rooms.  Us draft slaves usually only fuck with our fellows."

"Well, I have decided that I want to try out your hole.  Your fellow slave 6 seems to enjoy it long and hard, every night, after all."

I cut the conversation there and pushed in.  He was indeed a good fuck - even by my limited experience.  I suspect his years of practice had taught him how to bring great pleasure to his fellows - he synchronised the movement of his arse with my own thrusting, to my greater enjoyment.  He clenched his arse muscles to grip my cock wonderfully firmly as I slid in and out.  And he obviously knew that his cries of pleasure would contribute to the experience for me, as he made those wonderfully erotic groaning noises from deep down in his chest, in time with my thrusts.

But I came all too quickly, and allowed myself the luxury of falling forwards onto 3's muscular back - I could feel the sweat and the heat of him through my T.  I told him he could relax, and lie out full length, and pushed my T up to my shoulders so I could enjoy to the full the sensation of his back against my nips, which were of course erect after my experience.

I lay there, feeling the pure animal sensation of having another body breathing heavily as you lie on top of it.  But I knew it was time to go back to work, so I reluctantly pulled my now flaccid cock out of him and scrambled to my feet.  Fortunately there was a wash basin in the corner of the store room, so I could wash the crap off my cock, then pulled my work shorts back on.

"Come on, slave!  On your feet!", I commanded, as 3 had continued to lie there.  The big man got to his feet, and I thought I saw a very strange look in his eyes - a mixture of pleasure and puzzlement.

"Now, 3, I want to talk to you.  Listen carefully to what I'm going to say."

"I want you to be very nice to slave 7.  Treat him as you do 6. In other words, I want you to make sure he lies with you at night.  And I want you to have sex with him, as you do with 6."

"To make sure you do this, I forbid you to have sex with 6 until you have with 7.  You may only wank 6 after you have wanked 7.  You may only fuck 6 after you have fucked 7.  And you may not touch or kiss 6 until you have done the same thing to 7.  Is all that clear?"

"Yes, master.  But...."

"BUT?  Are you questioning my orders, slave?"

"No, master.  It's just that 7 will not join in with 6 and me."

"Well, you'll have to try harder!  And if you can't have sex with 7, or with 6 because of my orders, I do not want you sexing yourself, either.  You may not jerk yourself off - it must be 7 who does it for you, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, master".

"Good.  Pick up that cable, and let's get back."

In our room that night I again fed 7 excess rations, and he again, when he thought I hadn't been noticing, tried to share them with 3 and 6.  I was pleased to see that he had to at least talk to them in this way.

Then it was time for their night time shower, and I turned on the warm water to the shower head.  3 and 6 at once went under it and started to soap each other, but when 3 saw me looking at him, he at once stopped the enthusiastic soaping of 6's cock that he had been doing.  7 just stood there, waiting for them to finish as he knew I had been "punishing" him with the icy water.  

But instead I called out to him "Join you fellow slaves, 7.  Are you too proud to share a shower with your comrades?"

He went over, and the other two made room for him under the stream of water.  There was of course very little space for all three of them, and they had to be intimate contact with each other under the water.  7 couldn't avoid rubbing and touching the others, and they simply treated him as if he was one of them - they soaped his back, and washed his hair for him.  7 looked a bit surprised - you'd have thought that having been in the marines, he'd have been more used to having showers with other naked guys than he was.

I shut the doors of the cage so that John and I were private, then switched the TV to show the inside of the cage from the concealed camera.  7 had as usual gone to sit against the far wall, in his usual stance of legs drawn up to his chin.  But now 3 was sitting beside him, and was trying to put his arms around the smaller man.  7 at first shook 3 off, almost angrily, but 3 persisted.

Later, I was pleased to see that they had persuaded 7 to lie with them - 3 and 6 were stretched out flat, and 7 was half on them, to avoid the cooler floor.

Even though I now felt a lot more confident in my ability to fuck, I decided not to  start on my final conquest of John that night, but we had another great night of kissing and sucking each other before falling into a deep sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

We continued like this for another two days, and poor 3 was in a terrible state:  we were used to seeing  7 with a semi-erection, and even with a full erection a lot of the time, because of his cinch ring. 3 normally was not erect whilst he was working, except for an odd minute or two every now and then - all men get these constant erections, as we know, but they usually go away pretty quickly, and 3 was no exception as a rule.  But now he was almost continuously erect, and precum was leaking all the time from his prick.

I fucked him each day, but I didn't allow him to cum, and it was an added excitement to be able to see his huge cock rampantly erect, hanging down between his thighs, as I pounded away in his ass.

I felt I was now really experienced at fucking men, and on day three 3 was off for his afternoon's fight training so my regular "fuck slave" was not available.  So I took 6 off with me, leaving John and 7 to work,

I won't bore you with the details - but I practised fucking 6 on his back, with him gripping his ankles almost to his head to give me the maximum access to his hole.  He seemed to be even more grateful than 3 had been at this mark of my favour to him as a mere draft slave.

That Friday John and I were by the pool, when everything stopped - there was a failure of the main breakers somewhere that drove the filtration plant and the fountain that played at one end.  Even though it was our "day off", it needed fixing so I told John I'd go and get one of our slaves to help us.  When I got to the slave exercise area, all three of them were working away hard on the exercise machines, but I brought 7 back with me, as I considered it more important that 3 and 6 should keep their superlative physical condition.

Back at the pool we started to work away, but it was the regular time for John to phone home - he always did this at the same time of Fridays, and if the phone didn't ring out in Dorset then I knew that his mom and dad would start to worry that "something had happened to him".  So I sent him off to phone, leaving me and 7 to work away.

It was easy to fix, really, and 7 looked as if he was expecting me to send him back to the exercise room.  Instead, I said, casually, "Fancy a swim, then?"

I think he could hardly believe his ears!  

"Swim?"

"Yes, it's a hot day, and there's no other master here that would be offended by a slave swimming in our pool.  Get in there and swim if you want - but only as serious exercise.  I want to see you doing proper lengths, fast:  in fact, I'm a fair swimmer, and we'll race.  And no pissing - you slaves don't always have the same standards about things like that!"

Without further command, probably expecting me to change my mind, he leaped in and started to power up and down the pool.  I'm a pretty good swimmer myself, but I wasn't sure I was as good as him - and certainly I wasn't as fit.  So I let him do fifteen lengths before calling him to the end and telling him we were going to race, best of four lengths.

I won, narrowly.  I knew of course that it was only because he had already been tiring, but, never the less, the slave could see that it was indeed me who had finished our four laps first.

We hauled ourselves out of the pool, and lay there on the hot pavement breathing hard.  If it hadn't been for the fact that he was naked whereas I wore a tiny swimming slip (to preserve the mark of a master, that pure white area around the cock and on the arse), you would have found it difficult to see the difference between us - we were after all about the same age and physical build.  No - that's not right:  anyone could immediately tell that 7 was the slave because as we lay on our bellies, the brand on his bum was clearly visible.  And when we turned over, you could see his slave ID number on his chest.

As we lay there, we were both a bit drowsy - you know how the hot sun does that to you after a swim.  He looked so comfortable and relaxed, that I decided this was a good moment to start the next part of my plan.

In a quiet voice, I said "Have you noticed anything different about 3 recently?"

"Well... Yes."

"What?"

"He doesn't seem as relaxed as he usually is.  Normally he's calm, and just gets on with things. Now he seems all jumpy and edgy."

"Yes, he would.  And I assume you've noticed that he's constantly erect and dripping precum everywhere?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's all your fault, you know?"

I had overlooked his not using "master" in his replies as I didn't want to disturb the atmosphere between us.  But now his tone was starting to turn - he would probably need a sharp rebuke soon.  But I continued

"Yes.  You know I was punishing 6 for your transgressions, as you would never break under a whipping yourself.  Well, you don't relate properly to 3 and 6, and I have told 3 that until you do, it's his problem."

"Relate....?"

"Yes.  I need my slaves to work together as a proper team.  And you're not doing that if 3 and 6 are together all night, with you sitting sullenly on the sidelines.  You have to bond properly with them, and that means you've got to get fucking with them."

"NEVER!  That's one thing you can't make a slave do!  You may be able to have me forcibly masturbated, and make me swallow cum, but you can't make me fuck another slave.  It's just not possible - if I can hold off an erection, you can't make me go up another man's hole!"

"You'll come around to seeing my point of view in time, I'm sure.  Meanwhile, it's 3 who is suffering, and in turn 6 is getting unhappy.  I've commanded 3 that he is not to have anyone else except you make him cum:  he's not allowed to touch his cock, or to let 6 touch it.  Until then, he's going to go without - and you've seen the result:  erections, leaking precum, frustration, unhappiness...."

"You bastard...."

"Careful, slave.  Remember your station and show me respect.  You don't want to earn another whipping for 6, so you?"

"No, master...."  (very reluctantly!).

"Well, then, I can't see what the problem is.   3 and 6 have already fucked you - it's taking a cock up your arse that's normally the problem for a supposedly straight guy.  Once they've done that, I really can't see why you'd be concerned about doing the same thing in reverse."

"Master, I just can't fuck a man's arse...."

"Yes, you can.  And you will, sooner or later.  Now I suggest you start gently - wank 3, or suck him:  that can't be too difficult, as you have already had many mouthfuls of his cum.  I think you'll find you like the taste and texture of cock - I know I did, and I used to think I was straight.  Then, if you want, just close your eyes and think of fucking a woman - anyway, didn't you ever give it to  any of your girlfriends up the arse?"

"No...... Master."

"Well, be that as it may, think of 3 and 6.  Try to be nice to them this evening.  Remember, just as much as when I had 6 whipped instead of you, this punishment of yours is really falling on 3 and 6."         

That night I watched the three of them on the CCTV, and thought that my message had got across - 7 wanked 3!  Well it's a start, I suppose.

But what was I to do about John?  He wanted to kiss, endlessly, and now had turned into a most satisfactory cock sucker.  It was a lot more fun than wanking each other to have long "69" sessions, but my prick knew it needed more.  So that night I didn't allow John to make me cum, although I swiftly brought him off so that we could move on to the next stage of his education.

As he lay with his head cradled in my arms, I said  "John, there's one more thing that real mates do together.... Are you my best mate?  Do you want to go the whole way with me?"

"Of course I am, Steve."

"OK, roll over...".  And I helped him roll over onto his stomach.  I pushed his legs gently apart, raised his hips and slid one of the pillows under him so that arse was comfortably in the air.

It felt really good when the tip of my prick touched his warm arse hole, especially as I knew that I was the first.

"Steve..."

"Steve... Is this OK?  Isn't it what gays do?"

"Sure, John."  I leaned forward so my chest was pressed into his back, feeling his delicious warmth, and whispered in his ear  "This is the best thing that two blokes can ever do together.  It shows that they are real mates - closer than anyone else they know to each other.  You want to be like that with me, don't you?"

John said nothing, but I could tell by the way that his body relaxed, which had been a bit tense, that he had been reassured by my words.  So I went back to kneeling, then remembering how painful it could be without lube, knew that I had to do something as I needed to be very gentle the first time with John.  So I spat on my fingers, then as gently as I could pushed my forefinger up his hole.

He moaned softly, and I used more spit and a second finger to open him up a little and make sure he was well slicked.  

John was obviously enjoying this sensation, so I wasted no more time, wet my prick with another copious gob of my own spit, then pushed gently into him.  

I think John must be a natural - his arse accepted my cock head enthusiastically, and I had no difficulty in pushing in up to the root.  Of course I went slowly and gently, and John knew I would stop if he asked me to.  But he didn't ask - he just lay there moaning gently and sighing.  Not moans of pain or anything, but deep sounds of pleasure.

That first time I fucked him very slowly and gently, and with the excitement of his sucking at me first, it didn't take me long to cum.  I lay on his back, and let my arms fall to my sides where I found his, and we held each other close until I felt I had recovered.

Then I pulled out of him, and before he had time to move, took some of the toiled tissue from the bedside box and wiped his arse of the trail of spit, cum and shit that was all around it. Is there a more tender thing a guy can do for another than clean him up like that after sex?   A whole lot of guys make their partners  fend for themselves!   Then I went out and washed my own cock at the basin in the bathroom, before returning to slip in beside John and wrap my arms around him again.

To my surprise, there were signs of tears on John's cheeks.  

"I didn't hurt you, did I mate?", I asked him as gently as I could.

"No, Steve.  I just couldn't believe how fantastic that felt.  And I loved having you so close to me, lying against my back and with your cock up me.  But Steve... I'm worried.  It's.... It's.."

He stopped, so I probed gently  "It's what, John?"

"Well we're two straight blokes, right?  I had a fiancee, and you were always shagging birds.  When we came here we used to undress in the bathroom, and sleep in separate beds.  Then after those slaves sucked us off, we started to wank each other, and you said that was all right as every man wanks,  so what's the problem with wanking your mate?  It wasn't being gay at all - just the thing that straight blokes do when there's no women around - like in prison, or guys in the army out on patrol, or those in the navy cooped up on ships...."

"I love sucking your cock, but I don't think it's right - I don't think straight blokes do that."

"Oh, John, don't worry about it!  I'm your best mate, aren't I?  Haven't I always done the right thing by you?"

"Of course, Steve.  When I was living alone you took me to the pub with your friends... You always looked out for me on the site... You sorted out my girl friend.... You look out for me here...."

"Well, then.  If you and I do something together, and I always look out for you, how can it be wrong?"

"Look", I continued, "There are no women around here.  It's natural for a couple of blokes like us to need to release our sexual energy at least once a day.  So isn't it better for us to have a bit of fun together than just to fuck the old five-fingered widow?   When we go back to England, I bet you'll soon find a new girlfriend, especially with all the money you'll have saved!"

"But Steve, you went up my arse.... That's wrong, somehow....."  

The poor boy was obviously a bit confused, so I said "Look, did you enjoy it?  No - don't answer - I know you did.  And I did, too.  So how can anything that two blokes, really good mates, do together  that they both enjoy be wrong?"

"And look at in another way:  an erect prick is a great size and shape for sliding into an arse.  Do you think the body would be made that way if it wasn't meant for pricks to go up arses?  And would it be so enjoyable?"

"But Steve, all our mates in the pub back home, they'd call us 'queer' for doing this...."

"It's only because they haven't tried it, John!  They all have slags of wives who occasionally let them have it, or they go home and wank themselves off to a porno mag, just like you used to.  If they had a best mate like you to take to bed, they'd all be doing just the same as we are.  They all really want to be close to someone, just as we are, but they're all too scared to give it a try.  It's them that are 'queer' - we're doing the normal thing that any two blokes would do who get he chance, with someone they really like."

I think I'd reassured John, because he was falling asleep in my arms as we lay there, and I could just enjoy the warmth of his breath as it fluttered across my face.   Actually, although I liked fucking men, it was good to have a really faithful mate like John who would do as I say and then trust me to do the right thing by him and be so tender at moments like this.  I knew then that I needed both sorts of sex - I wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck, slaves from the pleasure room, slave 3, John, slave 7 when  I could:  I wanted to top all of them.  But I also wanted to feel the pleasure of having a loyal, trusting mate like John in my arms when I slept:  someone who would do whatever I said, and would expect nothing other than to be allowed to follow me around and do whatever I did.

We started the next day "normally", and I fed all three slaves properly, and woke John with a cheery slap on the bum.  He didn't mention the night before, so I didn't make a thing of it, either. At work I took the foreman aside and asked him if he thought the Sheikh would mind if I had 7's rings removed.  

"No, anytime you like", he replied.  "They were only to put in to punish him, to remind him that he's a slave - as they flop up and down as he works, he's constantly reminded of his status - and as a warning to other Overseers and masters that he's potentially very unruly.  But you seem to have got him tamed a bit, so if you want them out, have it done - he's been punished enough anyway - his back will never heal properly with all that scarring."

At lunchtime that day whilst John and I were eating our sandwiches, I made all three slaves sit along the wall rather than use them as seats for us.  It was interesting to see that 3 and 6 now made 7 sit between them, and the three slaves all looked a lot happier.  Of course 7's prick was still sticking out as a result o his banding, but 3's constant erections had gone away - he and 6 now only had the occasional erections we all get.

When John and I had finished, I called all three slaves over and told 3 to go and get my big wire cutters from my tool box.  As I approached 7, I saw him flinch, just a little, momentarily:  I think he thought I was going to slip he handle into his nipple ring and use him as a tool carrier again, and these wire cutters were seriously heavy.

But instead I snipped his left ring, then snipped again to take a little piece out of its circumference.  Then I repeated the process on his right, put the cutters down on the floor, and rotated the rings on his nipples until I could take both rings our.

"There, slave.  I think that looks better", I said.  I rubbed his left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, because I was interested to feel the hole let by the ring. 

"They tell me the hole will close up in a day or two, and then you'll almost be like the rest of us!", I said jokingly, pointing down at his banded cock that was still jutting out firmly in front of him.

"OK, guys, back to work."

The week was going well - I fucked 3 and 6 when I had them working with me and John and 7 were off at the other end of the palace.  It felt exciting to have 6 watch as I ploughed 3's arse.  But later, when I fucked 6, I made 3 kneel at the side of the room - even though I didn't hurt 6, I knew how protective 3 was of him and I didn't want any unpleasant incidents.

Things really went well with John, too.  After that first time, I fucked him every night and he really did appreciate it.   He still liked a lot of foreplay of course, so we had all our usual kissing, caressing, nipple teasing, and stroking before I fucked him - I didn't just tell him to lie there and prepare, as I did the slaves.  He liked that that sort of thing a lot, and, actually, so do I with the right guy.   It was good in a way because I usually tossed him off as the signal that the "fore" was over and the real "play" was about to begin for me - so I could use his cum to slick his arse and lube up my cock.  Feeling his warm slime being rubbed into my cock, and having that special scent it his filling the room made the whole scene that much more sexy.  

I could hardly restrain myself sometimes, and John took a bit of time to get used to a very hard pounding especially as I taught him the position I liked most was with him on his back with his bum raised as he grasped his ankles up to his head.  The first time I really forgot myself and pounded into him hard like this he was actually crying out - but I knew it was as much pleasure as pain, so I didn't stop.  And we laughed a lot after it anyway.

I'd planned to make more progress with the retraining of 7, but when John called his mom later that week he came to me crying, and said that his dad had been taken to hospital.  It wasn't serious - appendicitis -  but he didn't like his mom having to cope on her own and he didn't know what to do.

It was easy, actually - I told him to stop crying.  I threw a few of his "UK" clothes into a bag as we now habitually just wore Ts and shorts, and called on the phone for a car.  As we were driving to the international airport, three hours away over the terrible roads across the desert, we called the Sheikh's travel advisor who fixed everything. I was going to go with John, but he said "no", as I needed to stay and look after the slaves and get on with our contracts.

Someone was bumped off the flight, even though it was only making a refuelling stop on its way from Australia:  I saw him, and as he was a first lass passenger used to making a lot of fuss and commotion, I can tell you he wasn't a happy bunny.  To have come all that way and now be stuck here for 24 hours seemed to make him really pissed off.

But John was on, and away.  That night he phoned me and said everything was marvellous - he had a chauffeured car at Heathrow, and the car was waiting outside, 24 hours a day for him and him mom.  The Sheikh really is an extraordinarily considerate and generous employer.

He was in England a week in total, and the second night he was away I was really lonely in bed.  I was used to a good shag, and without one, and a warm body by me, I couldn't get to sleep.  I thought about going down to the pleasure rooms, but had a better idea:  I opened the wall, unlocked the cage door, and called 7 into the bedroom.  I left 3 and 6 locked in the cage, as I knew they were all right together.

He stood there in front of me, naked, and I was of course naked too as I'd got out of bed.  This was the time for boldness, and I simply walked up to him and kissed him - hard - putting my hand behind his neck and forcing my tongue into his mouth.

He broke off, and started to say "Fucking.... ", but perhaps remembered that he was a slave.  Or perhaps the intimate contact he was no having with 3 and 6 had mellowed him.  Or perhaps no one had ever kissed him before.  Anyway, he didn't complete the sentence... he didn't give me a lot of verbal, as I thought he might.

Instead he just stood there, and I could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply, sweat starting to break out all over him.  He was betrayed, too, by his cock - it had gone from being semi-erect to fully erect and was now swinging in front of him even more than usual.

So I went back and kissed him again, and he responded.  Soon we were both kissing deeply, and clawing at each other's bodies in passion.   We stepped back, and it was him pushing me onto the bed, rather than the other way around!

We continued to kiss, touch, stroke and grope each other for a long time.  Both he and I were fully erect, and both dripping precum.  I caressed his nipples which had now almost totally healed, and traced my little finger around the scars of his slave number on his chest. 

We were both ready to do more, so I pulled my mouth off his and said

"Roll over, so I can fuck you."

"I don't fuck" was the harsh reply.

"What?"

"You heard me.  I've learned to wank with 3 and 6, and to suck and be sucked.  But I don't fuck, and I don't get fucked!"

Oh God, not another one.  He's almost as bad as John, worrying about whether it was "right" or not.  And I was worried about his tone - this isn't the way a slave should address  his master.

"Look, 7, you've been fucked before.  3 and 6 have been up that arse of yours, so I don't see what the problem is.  You're right that you're not going to fuck - I don't want to be fucked.  But I do want to fuck you, and there's two ways we can do it:  either we can go on with this very nice love making, and I'll fuck you like I would any other bloke I'm in bed with.  Or I'll get 3 and 6 to come and hold you down, whilst I rape that arse of yours."     
         
"You wouldn't fuck in front of 3 and 6.... "

"Oh yes I would, 7.  I have already - I've had both 3 and 6 whilst the other watches.  It was quite a turn on really.   So it would not be a hardship for me to have them watch me fuck you.  Come on... What IS your problem?  It's not as if you're a virgin, even."

"Look... I wasn't brought up like this.  I went straight into the marines, and we didn't do this sort of thing."

"Actually, I bet the other marines did, even if you didn't.  It's well known that men join the army, the navy and the marines so that they can be with lots of other men.  And then the inevitable, natural thing happens..."

"It's not right to order me to let me fuck you... "

"Actually, it is.  You're a slave, and I can order you to do anything I like. But stop this 'I'm only a slave' nonsense - you're as free now as you were in the Marines."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, of course you are.  'Freedom' is some thing you have inside you, and you must like obeying orders and being commanded what to do or you wouldn't have gone into the marines in the first place.  You don't see entrepreneurs, captains of industry, anyone who likes to control their own lives joining the forces, do you?  Only guys who, whether they admit it or not, like to be commanded and don't like to have to think for themselves too much.  You were a good marine, I should think, and I don't see why you hate being a slave so much:  I was tough that you didn't obey the Sheikh properly that first night and that led on to all those terrible punishments.  But since you've been living a 'normal' slave's life working away with us - working hard, admittedly - it hasn't been so bad has it?  I bet I give you fewer orders in the course of a day than your sergeant did!  And you couldn't hope for nicer mates than 3 and 6 - since you've been treating each other properly, I think it's probably almost exactly like having really good buddies back in the marines."

"Shit, no.. It isn't the same...."

"It isn't the same, but if you would just accept that you're a slave, and make the most of it, it could actually be better.  You can be totally controlled and not have to think at all. And you can have really good times with your fellow slaves, who'll be closer to you than the other marine grunts ever were.  Wise up, 7.  You're in for the long haul:  make the most of it."

Before he could say anything in reply, I kissed him again and we started again to go through all the exciting things that two young, fit blokes can do to each other in bed.  I really don't know whether he genuinely wanted me to fuck him at the end of all this, or whether my words had really struck home.  But after we had caressed, stroked, rolled, and kissed each other a  whole lot more I found him opening his arse to me and I slipped in to him.

It actually was better than any of the fucks I'd had before.  Although the pleasure slave was expert and fun, I knew it "was his job".  3 and 6 were physically great fucks, but their servile acceptance of me as a master took away some of the pleasure:  they probably enjoyed it because I was a master, rather than a skilled fucker.  And I was too used to John "following" me and doing what I did and what I said - he was altogether too passive and accepting, even though I know he enjoyed it deeply, as did I, and he's the one man in the world I'll never let down.

But 7 was different - he was a tiger!  Once he had accepted the inevitable, he fully co-operated and I have never had such a great time. We were both already sweating and panting from our strenuous foreplay, and even though I quickly gained entrance for my cock head to his arse hole, 7 then started to really take part.  He bucked and threw himself around under me, so his movements reinforced my own thrusting; he shouted out in joy as I struck home hard; and he reached out for my legs, arse and body to take them with his strong fingers and try to almost pull me into him with even more force.

As we lay together afterwards, sweating heavily and with the smell of our sex filling our nostrils, I couldn't believe that two men could act so passionately together.  In fact, I didn't think a bloke and a bird could, either:   you need both partners to have approximately the  same body shape and body mass to be able to really go at it as we had.

"So what am I going to do with you now, 7?", I asked when we'd recovered a little.

"That was fantastic! ", he stuttered.  "You could start by calling me Joe!"

"Used that to be your name, 7?  I don't think it would be a good idea for me to call you that, or even for you to be thinking of yourself as that.  Remember, even though we've just had a great time together, man to man, almost as equals, you're still a slave.  And you always will be a slave.  There's no escape for you, and no going back to your old life, you know.  You're going to live your life out as a slave of the Sheikh's, here on his estates, and you've got to learn to live with and accept that. Look at 2 and 6, and see how happy they are:  although you weren't bred to it like they were, you'd be a whole lot happier if you just accepted your slavery as your condition now.  So I'll continue to call you slave, or 7, even when we're in bed and I'm allowing you a bit of leeway in your attitude towards me."

I didn't put him back in the cage that night, as it was good to have another man's body against me. In the morning, after a bit of kissing and stroking, I did however put him back with the other two - he needed to understand that he was a slave.  And I needed 3 and 6 to see that, too.

If anything, we got better and better at fucking:  he was always trying to push me, and I had to exert quite firm control (and self control!) to keep him in his place.  He scratched at that skin between my balls and my arse hole, and he saw that that was pleasant for me.  He probed at my hole with his finger, and when I didn't stop him, went all the way in and started to massage my prostate - if they taught him that in the marines, then he was lying about what he and his mates did together!  And he tried to push his cock in - when I felt its warmth touching against my virgin pucker, I almost relented- but really, slaves shouldn't be allowed to fuck masters, even if they thought they might quite like it.

John only spent a week in England as his dad was soon out of hospital and, as I've said, it wasn't a really serious operation anyway.  He looked so different - so confident somehow - as he bounded up to me and started hugging when he got back to the palace.  He was full of how he had done the journey all by himself, how proud his mom and dad were of the fact that he was doing well for himself (remember the chauffeur and the car), and how he'd been able to go and see his ex girl friend without any longer feeling anything for her.  But as we talked more, it seems the thing that had pleased him most was that he had picked up a guy in the local pub and fucked him in the back of the car!  It was so unlike the old, timid, John, that I thought he must be having me on.  But no, he told me every detail - he'd seen this bloke he fancied, so he'd made the first approach!

I wondered what to do now.  Five is  a difficult number.  I could leave 3 and 6 together for ever, but what was I going to do about John and 7?  I couldn't abandon my best mate, but, equally, I wanted to go on fucking 7 and I knew that if he wasn't attended to regularly, he'd start to brood and we'd be back to square one again. 
   
But, as it happened, I didn't have to do anything as the Sheikh did it for us.  John and I were invited to one of the Sheikh's "evenings" again, and 3 was of course to be the Sheikh's champion fighter.  It was an even more glittering and magnificent occasion than the previous one, as the king himself was coming.  Unlike the last time, when the crowd had been so scandalised by the actions of the marine, this time everything went according to plan - 3 and the visiting champion came out and bowed to the king and to the sheikh, so that the rest of us in the room had an excellent view of their magnificent arses as their foreheads touched the floor.   It was actually exciting to watch them oil each other, sensuously rubbing their hands over each other 's bodies, and paying particular attention to their cocks (I suppose that's sensible as one or other was after all going to be forced up the other's arse before the evening was out).

It was a great fight, and John and I really enjoyed it as we had someone to rout for - our boy, 3.  I commented to the foreman, who was also amongst the invited guests, that it showed that he had been able to keep his fighting form in spite of being taken out of his normal harsh duties for the comparatively "easy" life as our moveable stepladder and general worker.   

After he had triumphantly fucked the vanquished visiting champion, we then saw how incomplete the evening before had been - the loser had to clean off 3's cock, by licking it clean of his arse juice and 3's cum.  The foreman explained that the slaves were always given at least four enemas, so that their arses ran clear, before the fight.  As this cleaning of the victor's cock was the traditional end and the audience liked to see it,  they didn't want the slaves catching any diseases, or even getting an upset stomach, from licking crap off the prick - fighting slaves like these were just too valuable.

3 then mounted the dais, and again knelt down and touched his forehead to the floor.  The Sheikh said something to him, and as a mark of favour, he was again allowed to sit at the feet of the chief guests on the dais.  His chest still faintly heaving from his exertions, he looked even more magnificent in his nakedness than usual - I think it was the comparison of the oiled, naked warrior with the sumptuous surroundings and the otherwise totally clothed audience that made it so clear that he really was a perfect specimen of maleness.

As the evening progressed, we ate and drank more, and were again entertained by the troupe of naked dancers.  I was beginning to appreciate now the perfection of these guys' bodies, and the efforts that they had put in to make them so perfect at executing their complex sexual manoeuvres.  I know I was erect for most of the time just thinking about being able to interact with another guy as they were doing, and I suppose everyone else was, too - certainly I could see 3 looking in amazement, and his prick was standing straight out in front of him as the show progressed.

The king and the Sheikh were talking throughout the evening, and I could see a number of gestures being made at 3's naked back as he sat in front of them.  After a few minutes the Sheikh made a gesture to summon over the guard commander, whispered something in his ear, and the man went around behind the dais to emerge again on the side where 3 was, and lead him off.  What was happening, I wondered - and something prompted me to go and find out.  

So excusing myself from the foreman, I gestured to John and we both went out of the banqueting hall and down the steps we had been down before into the area underneath the arena where the slaves were kept before and after the performance.  The vanquished slave was sitting around perfectly normally, looking none the worse for the fucking he had got from 3, but 3 was locked into a tiny cage.  It would only just hold his big body, and he was sat with his back against one set of bars, his feet against the other so that his knees were bent upwards, and his body curled over so that his head was on his knees so that the lid of the cage could be closed down onto him.  He looked the picture of misery as he huddled there, and even his cock - which was hanging down between his naked thighs, looked sort of shrivelled up.

"What's happening?", I asked the guard commander who was standing there.  "Why's that slave locked in the cage - he won tonight, so surely he's not going to be punished!"

"No, sir.  Far from it.  He has been given a great honour:  the king was so impressed with his performance that he asked the Sheikh if he could buy him.  The Sheikh at once gave the slave to the king as a gift, as is the custom when a guest admires one of your possessions.  So the slave is only in that transit cage so that he can be loaded in to the trunk of the king's car when he leaves."

"You'd have thought that he'd be pleased, and honoured", the man continued.  "The King doesn't keep a stable of fighters like the Sheikh, so he'll never have to fight again.  The king has ordered him for his bedchamber- that slave will spend the rest of his life in luxury, only having to satisfy the desires of the king.  He'll have lots of free time to keep himself in good shape, and it's not like working at all:  As I said, you'd have thought he'd be pleased.  And instead of that, when I told him about it, he started to struggle - I've known this slave ever since he first came here at 16, and I've never seen him like this before."

I went over to 3, and started to speak to him.

"So, you've made it at last!  They tell me it's a great honour to be chosen by the king - you'll be his favourite."

"Oh Master, yes.  I want to serve the king.  I want to be his bed slave.  But I'm worried about 6.  I've always looked out for him, and now I will never see him again.  Without me he's sure to get into trouble, and before long he'll be whipped for some silly mistake because he doesn't understand - and once the Overseers and masters think that he's always doing the wrong thing and always getting whipped, they'll send him off to the mines!"

"Look, 3, that's what being a slave is all about.  If your master sells you or gives you away, then you have to go  Yes, it is unlikely that you will ever see 6 again.  But you know that he is currently working for me and master John - and we know that he is good and strong, and a very willing slave who always does his best for us. So you don't have to worry about him being whipped:  we'll look after him."

"Oh Master, thank you.  I've known 6 for so long, and I've always taken care of him and I was really worried about what was going to happen to him.  Will  you say goodbye to him for me, and tell him why I was not able to do so myself?"

"Of course we will, won't we John?"

Even John was moved at the sight of 3 being torn away from his long time friend and lover, and said (and this was unusual, as he didn't usually speak to the slaves directly and left it all up to me) "I'll tell 6 for you, 3."

I was even more amazed when he put his fingers in through the bars of the cage and rubbed them all over 3's cock and balls - 3 became erect, of course, and as John continued to massage his fingers around, even leaked a couple of drops of pre cum.

"I'm not going to wash my hand now, 3, until I see 6.  Then I will allow him to smell and lick my fingers, so he can have a final scent of you as I tell him why you're going", John continued.  "I'm sure it will be better that way."

The guard captain came over at that moment and said they were ready to load 3 then, and the last we saw of him was as his caged body was taken out of the holding area towards the loading bay.

Back in our room John looked at me, and said "Shall we tell him now, or in the morning?"

"I don't know - let's look and see what they're doing."

I turned on the TV and tuned it to the CCTV camera in the cage, and saw 7 and 6 both sitting companionably against the wall, talking.

"I guess they're waiting for 3 to come back", I said to John.  "So you'd better go in there and get it over with!"

"Steve, won't you tell him?"

"No,  John.  You said you would.  And, anyway, I think you ought to start as we need to go on from now."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, 6 is going to be pretty upset about losing 3.  He's always been 'taken care of' by 3, and he's going to feel lost and alone.  The slave 7 isn't really the kind of slave who will look out for 6 - he's too much of a loner.  So I think you ought to take 6 as your special charge and be his 'special' master.   If he wasn't a slave, you'd like him as a bloke, wouldn't you?"

"Well, yes."

"So, you ought to be able to like him as a slave.  Just don't let him get too familiar - remember, we're going back to England one day and he's going to have to cope on his own.  I think that he never  really improved because 3 was like a big brother  to him - but you could start off like that, but make sure that he got more independent so that when he has to go back to the work gangs, he'll be able to fend for himself."

"After all", I continued, "Guys can get more confident..."

I think John realised I was referring to him, and saw the parallels between the way I looked out for him as a mate, and 3 treated 6.  

"What's more", I went on, "I know you've looked at both him and 3 for a long time - you've been thinking abut fucking them, haven't you?"

"No....."

"Come on, John, I've seen you thinking about it.  You're not worried about that silly 'gay' stuff are you?  You know how perfectly normal, and how absolutely great it is, when we have sex.  So why shouldn't you fuck 6?"

"If I were you, I think the best way of dealing with the poor guy tonight would be to go in there and tell him about 3 as well as you can, and let him smell 3's juices on your fingers.  Then, as he'll be very upset, bring in here, push him onto the bed, and fuck him!"

"That will do two things.  Firstly, it will take his mind off 3 - it's a great honour to be fucked by a master, after all.  And secondly, it  will bond him to you - having you so close to him so soon after losing 3 will make it easier for him to switch to you as the one he looks up to."

"But I can't just bring him in here and fuck him, Steve.  You're here."

"So....?"

"Well, I can't be fucking with you lying there listening....  "

"OK, John.  So here's what we'll do.  You go and tell 6, and then fuck him.  I will fuck the slave 7, so I won't be able to hear what you're doing - I'll be too busy concentrating on getting my prick up that slave's arse."

"But Steve, in the same room?"

"Why not?  We don't have any secrets from each other do we, John?"

Well, to cut a long story short, it all went really well.  It's amazing how it's turned out, really.  6 is almost like a pet dog to John - follows him everywhere, does everything for him. It's almost at the point that when I want 6 to do something, he hesitates and looks at John for permission, in case John needs him for something more important.  And having the slave to control has absolutely made a difference to John:  he's far more confident and controlling now than he was.  He's also doing a great job at teaching 6 to listen to masters' commands, and to '"think" just a bit. I feel that when we do go back to England, 6 will be able to return to the slave pool and actually live out a long,  happy and useful life.

I actually miss being quite so close to John:  it was good being his best mate" (of course I still am), but we're not in that same relationship.  I still fuck him occasionally, but I don't have to watch out for him all the time to make sure he's doing the right things.  He's a really nice bloke, and I think that when we do go back to England,  we'll probably drift further apart.  He still wants to get married, because he wants nippers of his own, but he says that it won't make any difference to us - he still wants us to be mates, and he says he'll still let me fuck him.  But  know it won't be like that - if he does get married, we'll inevitably drift apart as he won't need me at all.  And as for the fucking - well, I suppose that if he comes to visit me he'll happily jump into bed "for old time's sake", but that won't be very often.  You do get to the point with people like John that you have to let them go, however much you don't want to, as it's for their own good that they grow and develop.  He couldn't go on being "looked after" for ever by me, I suppose.

But I don't think we'll be going back to England for a long time.  We've just signed up for another year.  The money's piling up, the work's still interesting, and there's no end to it - like painting the bloody Forth Bridge:  when we eventually do get to one end of this Palace, we'll be able to go back and start all over again.

However the real reason I don't want to go home is 7.  He's a slave and always will be, as there's no way that the Sheikh will ever let him go.  I've got him permanently assigned to us, and after he'd been without his nipple rings for a couple of weeks, managed to get the foreman to get agreement that his cock band could be removed as well so his cock and balls hang down just like a normal slave's does.  When you see him around the Palace now, you couldn't tell he was once considered to be a really wild slave, who needed those special punishments to mark him out as trouble maker.  

We're so alike, that when I'm walking around our rooms naked, you can hardly tell who is the slave, him or me - if it wasn't for his brands, he'd be just like us. Although I liked fucking a massive muscular slave like 3, I really do prefer men of my own height and weight in bed, and 7 fits the bill perfectly.  He's such a fantastic sex partner, and after that performance on the first night, has never lost his enthusiasm for sex.  We all four share the same room, and the cage door stands open permanently - John tends to fuck 6 and I tend to fuck 7, but we're all perfectly free and natural with each other and if John or I fancy a change, we just take the other's "special" slave.

I've given 7 another privilege, too.  Although I always refer to him as 7 at work and when there are others around ,when we're making love every night I call him Joe and I allow him to call me Steve, not master.  

I asked him last night if he ever thought he'd end up in bed with a man every night, and work naked all day, and he said of course he didn't.  I couldn't resist asking him if it was better than the Marines - and he'd almost forgotten that he'd ever been in the corps.  He really is living for the moment, and he's enjoying every minute of it.  You have to watch him in bed, though - at the end of the day, I am the master and I say what goes.  But he still tries to get his prick up my arse, however much I try to stop him - it's become one of our little games.  I might even give it a go one day, just to see what it fells like.

And me?  Well, there's a turn up for the book.  I was always a bit of a Jack the lad, and never wanted any responsibility.  And look at me now - I've got these three dependent on me.  I've got to run their lives, as well as my own.  All I ever wanted was enough money so I could enjoy a pint every night, shag a couple of birds every now and then, and not have to worry much about where the next pound was coming from.  And here I am, with all these responsibilities.  I couldn't have forecast that.  And, you know what?  It isn't just the fantastic sex - and I never thought I'd ever want to go with a bloke - I actually like being in charge.

Author's note:

That is the end of the transcript of my conversation with Steve.  I interviewed John, the slave 6 and the ex-marine 7 separately, but their narratives do not contribute substantially to my theme and so have not been published here.  I could not arrange to meet the slave 3 for interview - he is, I understand, still in the King's palace, and still acting as one of the King's special pleasure slaves.

In my earlier paper on the theme of how the two ordinary electricians Steve and John reacted to slavery, I said that it was clear that "working men" could readily adapt to working with slaves, and would readily use them if it made their life easier.  When I come to draw my final conclusions on slavery today, I will use the continuing story of Steve and John to support my assertion that not only would they work with slaves, but that they would easily learn to be in complete control of slaves, and would do everything that "normal" masters do to slaves, up to and including using them for their sexual pleasure and relief.  

It is interesting to notice how both Steve and John modify their attitudes to the ownership and control of slaves, and to gradually accept that "gay" practices are a natural regular part of the life of "ordinary" blokes.  Freed of the artificial constraints imposed by Western society, both of them discover that it is natural for men who had previously thought of themselves as completely heterosexual to learn that it is fact "gay" sex that is truly satisfying.  

Readers are reminded that  there is nothing special about Steve and John - they are, by their own admission, just ordinary working blokes from the East End.  If they can find happiness and fulfilment in their new gay life, how many more of their fellow could, too?

THE END     



          
 

  

       

  



