MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 9

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups

WORKING OUT

Mike started to tell Kev and me about his day.

"Pretty average - just a couple of small whippings - nothing like
yours Steve, that was an epic! And later, after I had cooled down,
three castrations."

"I don't really like doing the castrations, as I think it's a waste
of prime men, personally. But masters want it done, and so I suppose
it's better for me to do it than for them to go to some amateur
butcher, or for them to do it themselves."

"I feel particularly sorry for the young boys, who won't ever get to
know the pleasure of shooting a full load of juice. But fortunately
that's relatively rare now - most masters buying slaves want them to
look good and be fully functional, and if you cut a man's balls off
too young, he never properly develops good masculine musculature,
even if you try to do some sort of hormone replacement. They always
end up too podgy, too sleek, and without any proper manly growths of
hair in the pubes and pits, and that severely restricts their
attraction, and hence lowers the price."

"So most of the castrations I do now are simply as punishment - and,
again, it's no longer something a master does lightly as it affects
the slave's value. A master has to be really pissed off with his
slave, and have gone through all the usual beatings and whippings,
before he decides that the slave will never really reform unless he
suffers some form of mutilation. I suppose castrating the slave is
the least awful alternative - chopping off a hand, foot, arm or leg
is probably worse for the slave. And, of course, the master may
believe that this one final lesson is preferable to allowing the
slave to continue in his bad ways, because sooner or later that will
lead to his execution."

"I'm particularly proud of pioneering several interesting new
techniques, too. In the old days, a castration was just that -
chopping off the entire sac, and whilst some masters like to see
their castrated slaves with their cocks hanging straight down as
there's nothing underneath to support them, there's a new thing that
I pioneered. I just cut the balls out of the sac, then replace them
with prosthetic ones. As I cut up the back of the sac, and sew the
wound very carefully, it's not noticeable at all once it has healed
unless you have the slave on his back with his legs spread apart in
the air, then you can just see it (and only then if the prosthetics
are very large so the sac is permanently stretched very taught)."

"Many masters now order this as the look of the slave is not
affected - indeed, it can even be improved as I can fit big
prosthetics to replace small cherry-stone ones, or I can have them
low-hanging if the slave was formerly held high. And with regular
hormone injections, the slave - providing he was mature to begin
with - can keep his body tone, carrying on growing his hair, carry on
shaving, and so on. The only thing he can't do is shoot sperm - but
a lot of the stuff you shoot out is fluid from the prostate anyway,
and that goes on. So provided the slave is stimulated, he can even
carry on as a sex toy."

"The advantage for the master is less loss of value, and a bit more
power over the slave: the slave knows that if he fails to obey the
master utterly his injections can be withheld, and he'll lose his
manliness over the next few weeks. And if the master does not tell
his other slaves about the operation, the slave knows that at any
time he can be revealed as being no longer a 'proper' man to his
fellows."

"It's also good for those masters who like a bit of rough sex play
with their slaves - the prosthetic balls don't hurt if they're
squeezed too hard, or punched, so a master can play at hurting his
slave without all that shrieking and sobbing that would otherwise go
on."

"The operations I really don't understand is where the master orders
the slave's cock to be cut off as well - there's no real difficulty
with that as you can dissect out the urethra before you do it and
leave a perfectly satisfactory arrangement so that the slave can
still piss, but why bother? A slave without a cock is like a... Oh,
I can't think of a good analogy! But even stranger is something I
was asked to do the other week, which was to take the slave's cock
off, but leave his balls. I really did feel sorry for that slave -
can you imagine, all the sexual drive of a normal man left
functioning, but totally unable to do anything about it. I think he
would probably have painful balls for ever, although it's not
medically dangerous - all sperm you don't shoot out within a few days
are reabsorbed back into the body in the normal course of events
anyway."

"But, come on, enough of this chat. We've got to get you started."

He came over and oh so gently helped me to get to my feet - that was
difficult anyway as I'd been prone for 24 hours, and even without the
constant pain from the whipping I'd have had a few problems. But
stand I did, and Mike held his big muscular arm out to me so I could
hold on and steady myself.

He walked all around me, obviously making a thorough inspection.
Funny, I no longer felt shy about having this big naked guy
inspecting me so intimately - as I've said, I'm used to being naked
with other guys, but usually there are a lot of them in locker rooms
and so on. Having your body inspected by a naked guy who's got a
body that's even bigger and stronger than yours, and in a bedroom, is
something else, though.

Mike muttered to himself a couple times as he lightly ran the tips of
his fingers over my back, ass and thighs, then came around to the
front of me again and with exquisite care lightly felt around my
tits.

"Well, it's good news, Steve. There's absolutely no sign of
permanent damage, so provided we take proper care of you, you'll be
as good as new in no time. But it is going to hurt you again - as
soon as those muscles start to get active, they're going to know they
are really sore and are going to complain to you"

"Are you ready to start?"

I said yes, and Mike went on "OK, then, I think the best thing we can
do is get you into a deep bath of warm water again, so you can try
to move gently in there without gravity pulling at your muscles. Do
you think you can walk into my bathroom, or would you like me to
carry you again? But if you want me to carry you, you've got to
promise to contain your excitement - I don't want to end up covered
with your spunk again!"
I blushed, remembering how the erotic experience at being carried
over Mike's naked shoulder had caused me to ejaculate the day
before. Mike seemed so unworried about it, as if it was normal.
Perhaps he didn't mind having guys' jism all over him.

I didn't bother to answer, but started to shuffle towards the
bathroom, and it was agony. Just moving my legs ever so slightly
caused all the skin on my thighs, ass and back to stretch and move,
and a whole lot of the pain that I had managed to suppress whilst
lying totally still came back, causing me to gasp.

"East, Steve", Mike whispered. "Just go slowly and carefully, and
stop if it gets too much".

But I wanted to impress Mike, and there was no way I was going to
look like a wimp in front of him. So I gritted my teeth together,
and just carried on.

Even though the water in Mike's hot tub had been set at body-heat, it
still hurt as I lowered myself in. And when it got to my nips, I had
a double hit from back and front. But after I had settled down
immersed up to my neck, it did start to feel better.

Mike came and slid himself in alongside me, and Kev hovered around at
the edge looking at us two studs together in the water. After a few
minutes, Mike gestured to Kev to indicate that he could get in, too.
So the lad pulled his vest off over his head, and slid in on the
other side of me.

Mike and Kev could sit on the seat, but even though the water was
taking most of my weight, when I tried to do this the muscles in my
ass really protested, so I remained standing.

I've been in hot tubs with other guys before, but usually on the base
or in hotels. You all keep shorts or bathers on then, of course, and
being in the warm water with totally naked guys was a wholly
difference experience. I could look down, and as Mike didn't have the
whirlpool feature on in case it was painful for me, I could see all
our dicks floating in front of us - it's funny to see a guy's dick
out horizontal without it being erect (not that I'd had much
experience of seeing erect dicks, other than my own of course.).

Mike leaned over the side and turned up the heat control, telling me
that now I was in, it would be better for me to be warmer, and as his
arm stretched out I could see the interplay of the muscles in his
forearm and biceps, and got a peek at the neatly trimmed crop of dark
blond hair in his pit. Jesus Christ! Am I turning into some kind of
queer, I wondered - I've started to notice things like the way
another guy's pits look.

We stayed in the warm water for about an hour, just shooting the
breeze like three normal guys who only know each other slightly would
in a hotel spa or something - it seemed almost normal. Then Mike
said it was time to move on, and I had to start the slow climb out.
Actually, I was beginning to feel better - I wasn't hurting quite so
much.

Mike said it would be unwise to try to dry myself with a towel yet,
so I just stood there in the warm bathroom letting the water
evaporate from me naturally. Have you ever noticed that if you try
to do this some water always trickles down your six-pack and down
onto your dick, then, if you're not circumcised, there's no head to
stop it so it drips from the end of your dick. It looks as if you're
taking a very slow piss.

When I was dry, I started to shuffle back towards the bedroom, but
Mike said "No, Steve, go over and stand in the shower. There's one
more thing we need to do first."

I wondered about this, as I was perfectly clean after the hot tub,
but I did as Mike said as I trusted him completely. He came over,
and told me to open my mouth, then he squirted something onto my
tongue from a small medicine bottle and dropper he had taken out of
the bathroom cabinet.

"Is that it?", I asked.

"Hang on a minute, Steve. Any minute now you are going to have a bit
of preventative treatment..."

Even as he spoke I could feel my guts start to churn. Surely I
couldn't want to crap - I'd only had that total enema yesterday to
make sure my bowels didn't let go during the whipping. But now I
felt those agonising cramps you get when you've got raging diarrhoea,
and I knew I just had to go!

I was going to move over towards the crapper, but Mike said "It's OK -
I've just given you a powerful laxative that makes you start to
defecate almost immediately. Just stand with your legs apart, and
let it all drop out - you won't be able to sit on the lavatory."

"I can't risk a giant turd forming and pushing out through your anus
normally, given the state it's in. It might tear, and then, as I
told you, the sewing up of it wouldn't necessarily be totally
successful. So I've induced this diarrhoea - you've only got a bit
inside you, so it will trickle out quite quickly. Don't try to fight
it or hold it in, just let it out naturally."

What else could I do? I could understand the logic of what he was
saying, but the thought of crapping in front of a couple of other
guys was dreadful. But my guts were cramping so badly that I just
opened my legs as he had said and the next moment a thin stream of
watery, brown crap was oozing out of me and dropping onto the tiled
floor of the shower. You know how diarrhoea smells much worse that
normal turds? Well, this lot was no exception and the pungent,
meaty, foul aroma flooded the bathroom.

This was hell - nothing in my slavery, no, in my whole prior life,
was a degrading as this! But it was mercifully soon over, and I went
to reach up for the portable shower head to wash away the crap - but
I couldn't reach - my punished shoulders just couldn't yet force my
arms up high enough.

"Don't worry, Steve", Mike said, and gestured to Kev to go over.
Between them they gently sprayed my legs and feet that had got
splattered by my shit as it had hit the floor, and hosed down the
shower floor until it was sparkling clean again. Having to deal with
my shit didn't seem to phase them at all - could guys really get to
be so concerned for another guy, and find his natural functions so
normal, I wondered? But as they were finishing, a new problem arose -
I just had to piss! Why couldn't I do it whilst I was crapping -
after all, you do normally, don't you. But I hadn't, and now I
needed to!

If only I had thought of it before Kev and Mike cleaned me off - but
I really needed to go! So I told them, and they just laughed. Kev
offered to hold my cock and direct my piss down the drain hole of the
shower, but I was able to do that for myself. Another taboo broken!
I know a lot of guys piss in their own showers, but pissing in a
shower that other guys use just isn't on normally.

I then did go back towards he bedroom, but before I lay down on the
bed, Mike came over and ever so gently rubbed an antiseptic cream
into the weeping wound on each of my nips where he had hit me with
the hard steel-wire brush before my whipping. The cream was cool to
my inflamed nips, and Mike's big strong fingers were so gentle. I
couldn't help seeing and feeling my nips go hard and erect - a guy
isn't normally aware of that happening, unless he's wearing a T-shirt
that's too tight. I'd never had anyone else really touch my nips
before- the women I'd been with barely wanted me to touch theirs, and
I couldn't imagine they'd want to touch mine. But Mike seemed to
know something special about touching another guy's nipples - it's as
if he did it all the time, not just when he needed to treat them, as
a doctor.

And when I was again lying on the bed, Mike said he was going to oil
me - it would be good for the recovery of my skin to keep it moist
and supple. Mike and Kev knelt on either side of me on the bed and
were both so gentle that I hardly felt their hands running tenderly
over me. Either way I looked I could see their naked bodies and
bobbing dicks as they worked, and all the time they kept up a stream
of chat with each other and me, as if it was the most natural thing
in the world for three guys to be together like this.

I also couldn't help noticing that Kev and Mike played with each
other as they were doing it, leaning across me to rub their oily
hands over each other's shoulders and necks, and reaching out for
each other's nips. Kev was even reaching over and trying to grab
Mike's dick, until Mike told him to stop as he might slip and hurt me.

Mike then allowed me to rest for a couple of hours whilst he and Kev
went off somewhere, but when they came back, he was quite strict in
making me get up again and do some more walking, and even start to
try to raise my arms and move my shoulders. It actually did feel
better, but in any case I couldn't wimp out in front of Mike, so
stayed doing the small exercises he suggested even thought they did
in fact hurt a lot.


After that exercise Mike said I should eat again, but he didn't feed
me the mashed up slave meal - he said I was well enough to stand up
and chew it down normally, and this is another sign if a return to
normal.

And then another round of exercise - Mike was a real "slave driver",
to use a phrase that has taken on a different meaning for me! He kept
on and on at me to work and stretch, telling me that the more I did
now, the quicker I would recover. But when finally I really had had
enough, he let me stop.

I went to lie back on the bed as I had become used to, but Mike
instead told Kev to go to a cupboard and spread out a large, thick,
feather comforter against one wall.

"It's the night when my regular fuck-buddy comes over", Mike
explained, "And whilst we'd both like to have you on the bed with us,
I'm sure, as you're such a tasty-looking morsel, I don't think it
would be good for you - it would be too easy for us to hurt you if we
weren't careful, and when Ras and I get going we like to be really
uninhibited!"

So I lay there wondering what I was going to see and hear that night,
and didn't have to wait long.

BLACK AND WHITE


Mike went out when there were vague sounds of someone arriving at the
house, and I heard the massive outer doors slam. I heard sounds of
conversation and laughter on the stairs, and then the bedroom door
opened and Mike came in with this big black guy, dressed in a
conventional western-style suit and crisp white shirt.

"Steve, Ras. Ras, Steve", he said, pointing us out to each
other. "Ras - Steve here is a special patient who I am working on to
speed his recuperation. I know you're not shy about anything we do
here, so you won't mind if Steve just lies there, will you? He's
promised not to interfere, except for the occasional moan and groan,
which he can't help, poor chap."

The big black hardly bothered to reply. "Shut your talking, Mike!
Come here, give me a big kiss and hug, and get these clothes off me.
You always talk too much, until I manage to get your throat stopped
up with my dick."

Mike grinned, and it was clear they knew each other well. Both men
moved close, wrapped their arms around each other, then to my
amazement, because I've never seen guys do this before, started to
kiss each other deeply. All I could hear were little moans of
pleasure from deep inside each other, and each of them was caressing
the other's body, and pushing his head closer to him. It was as if
they wanted to climb down each other's throats and the action of
their tongues was not enough.

After a couple of minutes, they broke away. "For fuck's sake, Ras,
I've asked you not to have those sharp buttons on your suits", Mike
said laughingly. "It's OK for you, but they've been cutting in to my
naked body".

I could see Mike was completely erect, and I guess the black guy must
be, too, because Mike reached out to his crotch and stated to fondle
the man's dick through his trousers. It had looked strange to see a
fully clothed guy and a naked guy embracing, but this didn't last for
long: Ras and Mike worked together, almost in a frenzy, to pull off
the black's jacket, rip open his shirt and push that off, then
impatiently push his trousers down to the floor. The black stepped
out of his trousers, then, clad only in small cotton briefs, resumed
kissing Mike passionately.

Now as well as Mike's body, the black was also massaging Mike's dick,
and Mike in turn was grasping the black passionately, and cupping his
hands all over the guy's briefs to feel his cock and balls, and to
thrust his hand down the black's ass crack. I looked on, as these
two men enjoyed each other's bodies passionately. I now know that
groping your partner through his briefs can be even more erotic than
doing it to him when he's totally naked - somehow, sliding your
fingers down his ass crack when your hand is inside his briefs is
just more exciting.

But after a few more minutes when they continued to hug each other,
kiss passionately and explore each others' bodies, Mike broke off,
went down to one knee, and reached out and pulled the black's briefs
down to the floor. I could then see his enormous black dick jutting
out, and the next moment Mike's mouth closed around it, and he
started to make little moaning noises of pleasure from deep down in
his throat. The black in turn had his big hands behind Mike's head
and was pushing his face down into his pubic hair, alternating with
rubbing his hands over Mike's big muscular shoulders and moaning
faintly in ecstasy himself.

After a few minutes of this, Mike stood up and kissed the black
deeply again, and by obvious mutual consent they both fell onto the
bed together, continuing to grope wildly at each other whilst kissing
passionately.

When they broke off, the black, Ras, said "My turn now", and went
down on to Mike's big erect dick. I just continued to watch - what
else could I do? I'd never seen two big guys go at it before in such
obvious mutual pleasure. The contrast between Ras's deep black body
(he must have been from North Africa as he was one of those very dark
black blacks, not one of the "diluted" blacks you usually see in the
USA because so many of our blacks have some white somewhere in their
ancestry from the plantation owners) and Mike's deeply tanned but
basically very fair body, was astonishing. It was very easy to see
which bit of which man was where, on and around his companion. But
even though Ras was that very dark jet black, I couldn't help but
notice that the soles of his feet were still paler than the rest of
him as happens in blacks, and some parts of him were ever blacker
than others - there was an area on his lower back, just above his ass
crack, that was noticeably deeper in tone than the rest of him.

After a lot of sucking., Ras said to Mike "So who's turn is it first?
Enough of this foreplay!".

"You first this week", Mike replied, and with that effortless
springiness of his body that his physique gave him rolled over on to
his back and pulled his legs up into the air, putting his hands
behind his knees to hold them in the air.

"Lube?", Ras asked.

"As a change, my friend, why don't you go over to the slave lying
there, jerk him off, and use that? It might amuse you to play with
another man's cock first."

Ras chuckled, got up off the bed, and came over to the mattress on
which I was lying. The black was clearly an experienced master of
slaves, because he made no indication that I was at all involved as
he approached me - no "Hi", not even a smile! He just knelt down by
my ass, reached under me to pull my dick out between my legs, and
roughly groped it and my sac.

"Nice slave here, Mike", was the first thing he said. "Is he for
sale?"

"No, Ras - you can't do business here! His master had me whip him
almost to death, then asked me to get him back together again. Just
de-spunk him and get back over here, will you, I'm dying for you to
get started."

The black stared to jerk me off, quite coldly and mechanically. He
wasn't at all concerned about whether I wanted it or not, or even
whether I was enjoying it: it was just a purely physical thing, and
he clearly wanted me to cum as quickly as possible.

"Come on, fucker! Don't keep me waiting! Shoot that load!", he
snapped at me when he had been roughly working on me for several
strokes. But I found it very difficult - just being used in this
way was awful - did they think of me as nothing more than something
to provide them with lube? I'm a man, not a machine! But I could
see that this is how experienced slave owners and users actually did
think of their slaves - just possessions, to be used for the masters'
convenience.

When I still didn't cum, the black suddenly slapped me on my ass,
hard - and I screamed as all the old pain started again.

"Interesting!", Ras started to say, but I heard Mike cut across
him "NO, don't touch his body as you'll set back his recovery and I
have to get him back to his master quickly if I'm to get the biggest
fee. For fuck's sake, can't you just get a slave to shoot his load
without starting to slap him around and try his body in other ways?"

"OK, Mike, if it's money, I understand!"

His big hands gripped my dick even harder and continued their brutal
masturbation. Fortunately I could feel my excitement building, as
the way the black was wanking me would otherwise soon have caused me
to have those horrible friction burns your dick can get if you are
too vigorous with it without lubing it properly. To encourage me, he
roughly pushed my foreskin back and scraped a finger nail over my
cock head, letting it catch slightly in my piss slit. This always
makes me writhe with that fantastic mixture of pain and pleasure, and
this time was no exception - I really didn't want to move at all, but
my body was now operating "on auto pilot" - and then I felt myself
shooting.

But the black didn't stop jerking at me "Come on, slave - I want the
last drop out of you", he whispered as he continued to jerk at me in
spite of my gasps of pain - I think I've mentioned to you that like
most uncut guys I'm really sensitive after I've shot, and need my
dick left well alone. But, I suppose, he was experienced at jerking
off slaves, and probably knew that if he went on jerking me, he would
get even more jism out. And that was what he was after from my body,
after all. So what did it matter to him if I, only a slave, was
either humiliated or in physical pain from this? It was only
important that the master got what he wanted, as soon as convenient
for him.

He'd cupped his other hand under my dick as I'd shot, and now went
back over to Mike. Mike had relaxed his legs, and now raised them in
the air again. The black knelt beside Mike, and I could hear them
whispering and chuckling to each other as the black massaged my jism
into Mike's asshole.

I thought it was disgusting At that time I didn't like to see one
guy playing with another one's ass, let alone using someone else's
jism to do it! But both men were obviously enjoying it hugely, and
perhaps having taken my jism from me so callously added to their
pleasure in some way.

When he'd finished, the black simply wiped his hands that were
covered with the remains of my jism over his big rampantly-erect
dick, then said

"OK, then? You're nice and relaxed now, and I'm all slicked up... So
here goes!"

He knelt between Mike's legs, and I could just see his big cock head
starting to push up into Mike's hole. Mike was moaning, not with
pain, but with pleasure, as Ras continued to slide his enormous dick
up Mike's ass. Then he was rocking backwards and forwards, ever so
slowly at first. I could see that sweat had broken out all over the
black's back and thighs as he continued to thrust in and out. And
then the tempo changed, and he started to thrust hard and fast, and I
could head a faint slapping noise as his belly collided with Mike's
upended ass cheeks. I could only imagine how his pubic bone must be
slamming into Mike!

Mike was shouting "Jesus! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Oh
Christ! Yes! .....", with the cries interspersed with moans - whether
pain, or pleasure, or both, I couldn't tell as I didn't then know
that these were the sort of wild, harsh, hard, passionate sounds that
guys make when they're being fucked.

And the black was shouting as well: "Come on! Come on! Oh yes! Oh
yes!...."

Both of them were in a frenzy of deep sexual passion, and both had
obviously lost all sense of time, or where they were.

But the black stopped, and I didn't think from the shouts that he had
yet cum. Still inside Mike he leaned forward, lay his big body
forwards over Mike and started to kiss him again. Mike was still
moaning, but now much quieter as the black's mouth was over his and
his body was muffling he sounds anyway, but I could tell he was
enjoying it passionately. His legs had dropped and were now around
the black's waist, and I could see his big leg muscles contracting as
he gripped the black tightly.

Then, with his mouth clamped tightly over Mikes, Ras reached up and
pinched Mike's nose shut! What was this? Was he trying to suffocate
Mike?

But Mike seemed to be in real ecstasy, and the two men were clearly
synchronising their breathing so that Ras was only taking occasional
breaths through his nose, whilst Mike was only breathing the air from
Ras's mouth. This is real domination of one man by another, I
thought - being totally reliant on another man for your every breath,
whilst his dick is buried deep inside you.

Although I'm not gay, I felt my own dick start to go hard- what they
were doing did look deeply pleasurable and satisfying. I started to
imagine the feel of the big, heavy, muscular black pressing his
sweaty body into mine. I could feel his big hot dick inside me, and
I could almost imagine what it must be like to be only taking hot,
moist air from another guy as he allowed me to.

Mike was obviously enjoying it too, because his leg movements had
become synchronised with the breaths he was being given - his whole
body and mind were clearly focussed only on what Ras was doing to
him. That's the way to have sex, I thought - I wish I had been lucky
enough to experience that total abandonment to another person with
any of the women I'd been with.

But then Ras knelt up, and started his fucking again, whilst Mike lay
there, arms spread above his head in total abandonment, moaning in
ecstasy.

Ras didn't stop this time - I could see him thrusting hard and deep,
and small droplets of sweat had started to fly off him.

Then with a great shout of "Oh YES! Fuck!", he obviously shot, and a
couple of moments later again fell forward onto Mike so that their
bodies were again pressed close to each other. He and Mike started
kissing again, this time gently, with mutual passion and obvious
complete enjoyment.

After a few minutes Ras broke off, got up, and went into the bathroom
where I could see him washing his dick at the sink. He came back
with some toilet tissue and quite roughly - but in a really friendly
way - moved Mike's legs up into the air, and wiped around his ass.
What a thing to do for another guy - clean his ass! I was
astonished. But then, as I thought on, I supposed that when you have
been as completely intimate with another guy as you are when you
shoot your jism deep up his ass, why should you be embarrassed or
concerned about doing such an intimate service for him? That's the
sign of a real man, I guess.

"You're a great fuck, Mike, but I think there's one way my slaves are
better!"

"Fuck you, Ras! You haven't had better sex since last Tuesday when
you were last here. Don't tell me any of your slaves- whether
they're those thin lads you keep in your bedroom suite, or those big
wild newly-enslaved ones you fuck to subdue - pleasure you nearly as
much as my ass does!"

"No, you're right. Mike's asshole ought to get an award for services
to mankind! But I can insist on all my slaves being flushed out
before I fuck them, so there's none of this shit that has to be
cleaned up afterwards."

"Do you always have them given an enema?"

"Yes. I have my men flush all the slaves I'm going to fuck at least
four times, so the water runs clear. Then I can just pull out, zip
up, and go about my business if I want to. And, of course, for the
newly-enslaved, the actual process is part of their general training -
it starts to show them they it's me, not them, who are now in
control of their bodies."

"Now, Mike, are you going to fuck me?"

"No, you black bastard. This week I want to fuck your face. I'm
going to stick my cock right down your throat, and fuck away until
you're gagging with pleasure - literally!"

As he said this, Mike had sprung astride Ras and was now kneeling
with his kneecaps on Ras's shoulders. I could see in profile how his
cock was hanging just above Ras's mouth.

Mike leaned forward to grip the bed-head, then pushed his rampantly
hard dick down onto Ras's lips, which opened to receive it.

As Mike thrust his hips up and down as he pistoned in and out of Ras,
I got a birds-eye view of his ass - not just the muscular cheeks
themselves, but little flashes of his asshole. And of course his low-
hanging balls were swinging around wildly between his thighs as he
pumped in and out.

Ras wasn't able to say anything with his mouth full of dick, but Mike
was really entering into the spirit of things as he cried out each
time he plunged in. Sweat was flying from his muscular back, and I
could tell that Ras was enjoying the experience, too, because his
legs and feet were rising and falling and scrabbling around in
obvious ecstasy.

With a great shout of "Sweet Jesus", Mike obviously shot his load,
and rested, his dick still plunged in to Ras, with his body towering
over the black. Then after a few moments he pulled out, wiggled his
way down the bed, then lay parallel to the big black, wrapped his
arms around him, and kissed him deeply.

I could see their cheeks going in and out as they sucked at each
other, and the motions of their tongues. What would it be like, I
wondered, to kiss a guy deeply like that when his mouth and throat
are coated with your own spunk?

As their heavy breathing subsided, Kev came into the room. With that
eager way he had, he slipped off his short top so that he was totally
naked and threw himself down in-between Mike and Ras. He was
obviously trying to excite Ras, to get him hard, so that the black
would want to fuck him. But Ras and Mike were obviously aware of the
lad's ploys, because Mike gave him a good-natured slap across his ass
and said

"Come on, Kev! You know the rules. I'm not going to fuck you, and
neither is Ras. We'd both like to, but we're waiting until you
fulfil that promise to get your body in proper shape, and to pass
those exams. I've told you that the moment you do that we'll show
you what heaven really is - we'll 'spit roast' you, and you can
choose which of us is going up your ass, and which one down your
throat."

It was an amazing sight to see them all three together on the bed -
the golden, darkly tanned muscular Mike, the huge, muscled black, and
the dead white Kev. Although Kev had a good body, the contrast
between the fully mature men and this lad was very apparent - he just
didn't have the musculature that men don't develop until they're in
their twenties. But the sight was very erotic - if one of those gay
magazines had been able to have a photo of it, I think they would
have had a sell-out that month!

In spite of what Mike had said, Kev had continued to play with both
guys, holding their dicks, tweaking their nips, trying to kiss each
of them in turn, and so on. But he wasn't having any success, and so
he tried a different tactic: he slipped down the bed, then started
to lick the dicks, sacs, and pubic areas of both guys in turn, really
cleaning them up from their exertions. Both of the big studs seemed
happy enough for the lad to be doing this, and whilst he continued,
they started to talk.

"We've got a real problem these days", Ras said, "With the supply of
slaves. Although there are lots of blacks from Africa, and plenty of
Orientals, good European whites are getting very scarce and the price
is going up all the time. As record keeping in the West gets better
and better, it's becoming harder and harder to extract enough young
men to satisfy demand without their loss becoming visible."

"And I can see that the problem will only get worse and worse -
especially as the demand is increasing all the time, too. There are
more and more billionaires in the world, and once they have bought
everything else, the only thing they can spend their money on is
luxurious estates and slaves - I guess it's the ultimate power trip
for them. So I've taken a long term view, and since we last fucked
I've started my new business venture. Provided I can afford to wait,
I will end up as the richest slave merchant the world has ever known."

"So what are you doing, you black bastard? I've always thought you
had brains, and weren't just a good fuck..."

"Well, Mike, I've set up a breeding farm. I've taken a whole load of
women of childbearing age - they're relatively a lot less expensive
than men - and I'm having them inseminated to bear white children.
As soon as the children are mature, I can sell them for a handsome
profit. Of course, it's a long term investment, as it will be about
15 years before I start to see the revenue coming in, and in the
meantime I have the continuing running costs of the operation. But
after that....."

"I don't see how that works, Ras. As well as the expensive male
slaves you want, aren't you going to get a whole lot of less
expensive girls, too?"

"No, Mike. I've gone into the whole thing thoroughly. Each of the
women breeders can produce a new child on average once every 14
months. You can breed from them again almost as soon as they've
given birth, but there will be some loss as we test the pregnancies
as early as possible and then abort any girls. So the 14 months is a
good average."

"Each breeder is probably good for at least 14 children before we
have to replace her. And although I could sell the slaves off before
they're 15, the prices of young kids are always depressed. The
actual costs of bringing the lads on to maturity are not that high -
I don't intend to educate them, of course, and from the age of about
five they can start to do some sort of productive work - light
assembly, that sort of thing. Likewise, the breeding women can
mostly work when they're not actually giving birth - they won't bring
up their children individually, as they'll all be looked after in
communal dormitories, and only about 5% of the women will be needed
for childcare."

"So most running costs will be paid out of the work that will get
done... So the eventual sale of the slaves will be pure profit. But,
as I said, I've only just got started and there's a long time to wait
before the first cash starts to flow in."

Ras went on "I could cut you a good deal on that slave you have lying
there - the one you're treating."

"Oh? - what sort of a deal?"
"Lend him to me for a few weeks, so we can milk him and use him for
insemination. He has just the sort of characteristics I want my crop
of new slaves to have: excellent body, white, relatively
handsome...."

"Sorry, Ras. No can do. The slave doesn't belong to me. You'll
have to ask his master."

"Oh come on, Mike. It's not going to damage the slave in any way -
he probably masturbates himself all the time and all that good semen
goes to waste. All I'm asking for is that you lend him to me so that
we can milk him. It's not as if we're going to get him into bad ways
by encouraging him to fuck women - life's too short for that.
They're all inseminated artificially, and one good load from a slave
like that will probably produce at least ten slaves with the right
sort of genetic heritage."

"Well, although it's tempting, I can't allow it. His master is
particular about what his slaves do and don't do - especially the
slaves like him who are going to be in intimate personal contact with
their master. You can always make his master an offer, I suppose,
but I think he'll turn you down. But as you're setting up this
business for the long term, you can always wait until the slave's 35
and then buy him on resale!"

"35?"

"Yes - his master is strange that way. I treat all the slaves on the
estate, and they are all disposed of at 35. Most of them still have
years of productive life left in them, but their master just likes
all his slaves to be less than 35. It's silly, really - rather like
changing your car when it's only three or four years old - but that's
what he does. It's ridiculously early for a slave to be replaced:
after all, given the life they lead, they're not nearly worn out."

"Well, 35 would be too old for me, too."

"Don't be silly, Ras. These slaves are all fed a perfectly balanced
diet. They're all well exercised. And, most importantly, they lead
completely stress-free lives: no worries, no decisions to make, and
so no stress. At 35 they're in absolutely peak condition still.
Indeed, I'd almost rather have a fully mature 35 year old than some
smoking hot stud of 25."

"Well you may be right in general, Mike. But 35 is too old for my
breeding programme. At 35, a slave's sperm has started to
deteriorate - it isn't as fertile as it was when the slave was 16.
And I can't afford failures: every month one of my breeders isn't
pregnant costs me money. No, by the time he's 35, I won't be
interested any longer."

"But, Ras, there is a chance. This slave is a work-out companion
and, I assume, fuck-buddy for his master. As such he's very much a
fashion item: his master will want to be seen with him, working out,
whilst his body type is the currently fashionable one. But once the
fashion changes, his master will want the latest style: we've had
these big, muscular, mature types for some time now, and almost any
day I'm expecting 'Slave Today' to start to have articles and
pictures of the leaders of society with thin, willowy youths. Once
that happens, his master will want to get rid of him and have one of
the latest style. And the fact that he's been a loyal fuck-buddy and
a whole lot of fun in bed won't count for anything - I know these
masters, and fashion is everything. After all, if he wants a
muscular ass to plough, it's easy enough to hire one in temporarily."

"The problem is for the slave", he continued, "that when his master
tries to sell him he'll find that everyone else is dumping their big
muscular slaves at the same time. So the price will plummet. And
the only interested buyers will be the mines - they always need the
heavily muscled types because of the need to work hard and do intense
manual labour in very cramped conditions. But life is so harsh down
there that they rarely last more than two or three years. So that
poor slave over there has at most another year with his current
master, then two or three years of hell in the mines...."

"Still, you could rescue him and buy him for your stud!"

"Mike, thanks for that. You've just given me a new parameter that I
need to factor in to my business plan. I'd thought that all I needed
to breed was big, strong, muscular, good-looking types - and now I
think I'll need to research it further: I'll need to try to get some
sort of forecast for trends, so that as my slaves come to maturity,
they'll be in accordance with the fashion."

"Well, Ras, that will just be a few thousand dollars for a
consultancy fee, then, in addition to the fifty you owe me for a good
fuck!"

"Don't joke about that, Mike! You know, it would be easy enough for
me to have my enslavers call on you late one night and spirit you
away. Then I could plough your ass whenever I wanted - until I tired
of you. And I could hire you out, as there are a lot of men out there
who want to fuck studs like you. And in the meantime, you could be
my semen source: you've got a great body..... Yes, perhaps
enslavement of you would be the best thing to do...."

"Ras, sometimes I wonder if you're joking or not. "

"Well, perhaps I won't have you enslaved. But how about fucking me
again, then when I get home I can drain my ass of your load and use
it for my women?"

"No, sorry, Ras. I don't feel like fucking again tonight. I have to
be up early, and it's already past midnight. Time for you to go
home, nigger. If that big black cock of yours is still rampant, do
what you usually do and plough some of those young slave boys from
your stock pens who are waiting to be sold."

Ras got up and started to dress. As he did so, he said "But are you
sure you won't be a donor for me? I would be prepared to pay. And
you won't of course have the indignity of having to see the women or
anything - you and I could just have a fun time in bed, and I'd just
arrange for one of my slaves to collect your load as soon as it was
shot."

"No, I don't think so."

"I'd be prepared to donate a handsome fee to charity. And, of
course, you'd be ensuring your own immortality, with all those little
Mikes coming on stream...."

"Well, put like that, I'll think about it. Next week our meeting is
at your place, isn't it? You'd better lay in a supply of test tubes,
or whatever you use, just in case!"

As I lay there listening to this conversation, which was all carried
out perfectly matter of factly as if it was the most normal thing in
the world, I had got a huge hard on. As Ras continued to dress, Mike
had noticed this and whispered something to Kev.

The next instant Kev was crouching beside me, and had my dick in his
mouth: he started to give me a blow job! I didn't like the young
guy having to do this to me, and tried to stop him. But Mike called
out

"Stop that, Steve! If you don't let Kev have some sort of sex
tonight, I'll never sleep: he'll be pestering me for it until I
finally have to give in just to shut him up."

Kev was anyway driving me wild, and there was no way I could argue -
his ministrations were causing me to gasp with pleasure. He had a
special way of letting his teeth just catch the flange of my cock
ever so gently, which causes that exquisite sensation we all like.
And in addition to swallowing the whole shaft and sucking in and out
lustily, the tip of his tongue would pass over my piss slit and tease
it: it was this that finally drove me wild, and caused me to explode
into his mouth.

Ras had finished dressing and had been watching this. When Kev drew
away from me and stood there panting and licking his lips with
obvious pleasure, he said to Mike

"How about letting me borrow this young lad for my breeding
programme? I'd like to get some of those red genes into my offering,
and, who knows, in 15 years time they could be the fashion!"


"OK. You can have him three days next week. But there are a few
conditions: you're not to embarrass him by making him actually fuck
any of the women himself. You have to watch him to make sure that he
doesn't fuck any of the male slaves, or seduce any of them to fuck
him, whilst he's in your care. And we'll need to talk about that
charitable donation."

"Oh - and one final thing. I want the lad to have a bit of fun from
this little adventure, so don't expect him to wank himself. I think
you should get some of the handsomest slaves in your place to jerk
him off whenever you need another donation - he likes to see handsome
men, and I know he'd be harder and hornier if they were wanking him,
rather than if you used an electric milker or anything."

Ras laughed, said OK, kissed Mike deeply, and left.

"Bed, Kev!", Mike snapped. "It's late."

"Mike, thanks, I'm really...."

"Shut it, Kev, before I change my mind about your bit of fun next
week! I want to get to sleep. Turn out the light!"


END OF PART 9. TO BE CONTINUED
MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 10

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups

WORKING OUT


Mike was actually quite a cruel task master - he was never physically
violent, but his harsh criticism if he thought I was not putting
enough effort in to recovery and getting my body back in order was
enough to make sure that I went through the daily programme of
exercises and workouts he had mapped out for me.

At first he had insisted that I slept in the same room as him, so
that if there was a crisis in my recovery he would be immediately on
hand. By the time I was past this critical phase, I was so used to
being with him and Kev that it seemed natural to continue and there
was never any discussion of taking me down and locking me into a room
more suited to a slave.
I watched the way that Kev and Mike behaved, and they were so
natural, both with each other and with me and any other visitors:
Mike was not at all concerned about his nudity, and although Kev was
supposed to wear clothes, he usually only wanted to wear the
long "vest" that I had first seen him in, so that when he sat down or
sprawled on a couch his laddish cock and mop of bright red pubic hair
were exposed. Their relationship was just like that of a wise and
loving father, and a mischievous but loving son: Mike could be quite
stern with Kev and insisted he do his workouts and his school work -
he regularly checked the PC Kev used, as there was a program that
monitored the number of hours Kev had been at the keyboard. Kev was
always trying to play with Mike's cock - he would for example sit
next to Mike on a couch, and try to steal his hands onto Mike's cock
without Mike realising until it was cupped in Kev's hands, and Mike
would then playfully slap his hand away. Kev never really made any
move to touch me, however - Mike had told him I was strictly "out of
bounds" whilst I was recovering.

Every night we were all three in the same big bed - I was on the left
side, Mike on the right, and then Kev would lie next to Mike and the
bed edge, saying that he had to put his arms around Mike then to save
himself from falling out! There was no sex - we were just three
naked guys sharing the same bed, but like all strong virile men we
needed to jerk off each night and each morning. Mike just lay there
and did it almost as soon as he had got in to bed, as he saw no
reason to be embarrassed or ashamed of doing this natural act in
front of Kev and me. Kev of course also jerked himself off, and at
his age he only needed a few strokes to cause his cock to shoot a
fountain of cum.

At first, it was too painful for me to jerk myself off as the
movement of my arms and shoulders was just too much. By the second
night Mike had realised this, and after he had jerked himself off,
turned to me and said that he had better jerk me off, too, as it
wasn't good for a man to keep his semen bottled up inside him. Kev,
hearing this, at once offered to do it to me, but Mike said that he
had to do it as it needed skill and care as my cock was sore as well,
and he thought that Kev's enthusiasm for men's cocks would get the
better of him and he would be too rough.

Mike then sat up in the bed and knelt next to me, and in spite of
myself - because I'd never had another man jerk me off before - I
found I was erect. Mike had caught his own cum in the palm of his
hand, and dipped the fingers of his other hand in and through it to
give them a good coating, before ever so gently running them up and
down my cock. It felt absolutely amazing - I'd never thought of
using a lubricant before jerking myself off, as like most guys I just
took my cock in my hand and started to wank it - I suppose it stems
from those unfortunate experiences many of us have as lads when we
first start to wank. Like a lot of us, I was doing it in the
bathroom so my mom wouldn't see (you could never be sure she wouldn't
come into my bedroom) and experimentally lathered my hands with soap
before jerking off - it was very good, except that the soap started
to dry, and so I needed to wet my hand every now and then to keep the
slippery sensation going. I'd never had such a good wank before, and
was really excited and shot a really big load eventually - and then
the problems started. Some of the soap froth ran into my piss slit,
and it was agony! I was jumping up and down, trying to relieve the
pain, and had to try to wash my cock under the tap to get the soap
out. It didn't really help, and so I tried pissing: that's
difficult enough immediately after a good wank, of course, but now as
the piss came out, the pain was worse. After that, I never really
tried to lube my cock again!

However the combination of Mike's gentle, strong fingers and the warm
slimy cum he was using to lube me was entirely different. I never
knew that jerking off could be as good as this. I quite forgot that I
should be really horrified at another man doing this to me, and just
lay there and really enjoyed it. Whether it was the sensation of
having Mike's warm hand around my shaft, or whether it was because I
had not cum for days, there was only a short time to enjoy this new
pleasure before I shot my load. Mike carried on wanking me - gently
and slowly now, to try to ensure I enjoyed all the after-spurts, but
I cried out: I'm one of those guys whose cock is amazingly sensitive
after they have first cum, and if I carry on jerking myself it causes
that incredible mixture of pure pleasure and exquisite pain in my
cock head. If you're doing yourself, you can just about carry on
jerking as you know exactly how much you can take, but when another
guy's doing it to you he does not have that immediate feedback and
even the mildest stroke at the wrong moment can cause you to almost
faint with the pleasure and the pain. So I just had to gasp and cry
for him to get his hand away, and my cock simply dribbled the last
few spurts out all by itself.

Mike obviously knew what had happened, because I saw him grinning
down at me.

"Ah, so I can tell your master that if he ever really wants to
torture you he should forget the whips in future", he said.

"If he just gets one of his big black slaves to come and jerk you
off, he can hear your screams and cries if the slave just carries on
wanking you: that should be enough to satisfy his desire to punish
you, without the risk of all this damage to your body!"

"I didn't really hurt you, though, did I?"

"No. It's just that I'm sensitive after cumming."

"Silly man! You should have said! The first time you can never tell
with a guy - some are disappointed if you stop wanking them, as they
really like the feeling of being wanked on whilst the 'after shocks'
are still pumping spunk out of them. But some, like you, just can't
bear it. Actually, I suppose I should have known: in my experience,
uncut guys like you are always a lot more sensitive than cut guys.
In fact, some masters have their slaves cut just for that reason, so
the slaves can be sucked or wanked hard, to get every last drop of
cum out of them - although it's usually only the slaves who have been
selected for breeding, as the master wants every drop of cum milked
out of them to go off to the AI centre."

"Well, I didn't really think.... It's not quite the same when you
wank yourself."

"Sure, but what about the last guy who did it to you?"

"There hasn't been a last guy - you're the first."

"Well, it's not often I have a virgin in this bed! Most of the men I
meet are, shall we say, connoisseurs of man sex! So you haven't been
fucked either?"

I felt myself blushing. Mike was so open about discussing things
like this, and they terrified me.

"No. That's what started all this. My master was just using me as
an exercise buddy, but he had talked about me to an old friend of
his, and sent him pictures on the web, and the friend had asked my
master if he could be the first to take me up the ass. My master of
course agreed, as he himself was not particularly interested, and so
I felt I was 'safe' from being fucked for a long time. But then my
master said that the friend was coming to stay, and so I knew that if
I didn't try to escape then, I'd...."

"Hold it there, Steve. I think I get the idea. You're so terrified
of having a man's cock up your ass that you'd rather risk death by
trying to escape from your legitimate master...?"

"Yes, I guess that's about it."

"But why? What's so awful about having another man's cock up you?"

"Well, it's not right! And it hurts! And it's the most shameful
thing a man can do to you - he's totally dominated you when he's
managed to fuck you. He's...."

"Whoa.... Don't be so stupid! Where on earth did you get all
this 'it's not right' rubbish from? And all this crap about it
hurting? Of course it can hurt, especially the first time, if it's a
giant cock that's rammed into you really roughly, without any lube.
But most masters don't fuck their slaves like that - it's not all
that much fun to go in hard without lube, you know, as your own cock
is a bit sensitive! And you're a valuable slave, and they don't want
to damage you - if they tear your sensitive membranes in the anus and
rectum, you'll lose a lot of value as the sewing up is never totally
satisfactory. So most masters are very considerate when fucking
their slaves, especially the first time. Yes, it will hurt even
then, but it's that sort of special hurt that makes you cry out for
it to stop but when you really don't want it to - you actually want
it to go on and on for ever, and the cries are a way of showing the
other guy that you are really enjoying it. Once you've had a cock
inside you once or twice, you'll start to live for the day when your
master will fuck you again - the feeling of his hot cock up inside
you, the amazing feeling as his cum shoots, and the wonderful
sensation as he relaxes after cumming and lies on top of you, hot,
sweaty and panting. There's absolutely nothing to beat the feeling
of being fucked, unless of course it's doing the fucking yourself."

"And for a slave", he went on, "It should be a double pleasure. Not
only do you have all these sensations flooding your body, but you
know that it's your master who is doing it to you. What better way
is there of serving your master? How else could you get as close to
him as when he's sprawled out on your body, recovering from his
efforts in fucking? You seem to forget that slaves exist to serve
their masters' pleasures, and what better way is there of doing that?"

"But it's.... It's... Wrong!"

"Rubbish! How can anything that two men do together with their
bodies be wrong? I suppose you're still worrying about 2000 years of
the Christian ethic that basically forbids people from having fun!
All that crap about only using your cock for procreating children.
If you believe in a God, why would he have made assholes just exactly
the right size to take cocks and give pleasure to both men, if he
hadn't intended you to do it? They never try to answer that
question, do they?"

"Look, Steve, my advice to you is to relax and enjoy it! You've
never had another guy jerk you off until today, and this wasn't so
bad, was it? Stop worrying about being fucked - it's going to
happen, whether you like it or not. So start to focus on how you are
going to experience it, and how you're going to really go out of your
way to make it special for both you and your master that first time.
Sure, you're going to squirm and shout, and he'll be expecting that
from a virgin ass - it's part of his pleasure. But you should savour
the feeling as his cock head first pushes into you, and really focus
on seeing how the pain is actually one of the most amazing sensations
you've ever had in your life. Gasp and shout as your master thrusts
into you, but really enjoy it."

"Now", he went on, "I've got all this cum here still in my hand, and
I hate it going all over the sheets!"

He raised his palm to his mouth, and his tongue came out and licked
at it, slurping about half of it up. Then he put his hand towards my
mouth, and I realised he wanted me to lick up the other half.

"Come on, Steve - it's half and half. It's come from both of us, and
I don't want you to miss your share."

"I don't do that, Mike"

"Don't do what?"

"Eat cum."

"You mean you have not up until now! Are you serious? I though all
guys tried their own cum - you mean you never even tried it after you
had jerked off as a lad?"

"No, never! I don't like the smell! It's disgusting."

"Well, you're going to have to learn. Most masters like a slave to
take their cum down after they have been sucked off, so you'll be
eating enough of it sooner or later. But what did you do with your
cum when you jerked yourself off in your former life?"

"Well, you know..."

"No, I don't."

"Well, I either used toilet tissue, or yesterday's boxers...."

"How fucking disgusting! All those scraps of cum-soaked tissue about
the place - and isn't there a risk of getting it stuck to your cock
head? Imagine the shame of getting your cock out and seeing a bit of
toilet tissue still sticking to it. And as for using your
clothes..... Well, ever since I was a lad I've always just shot
into my hand, and then licked it up. So simple, so hygienic. And it
tastes good, too! It's one of those things where the taste is not
the same as the smell - we all know what it smells like, faintly
ammoniacal, but the taste is really rather neutral and bland. It's
rather like eating oysters - it's the texture as much as the taste
that's the pleasure, as it slips down your throat. But if you don't
believe me, ask Kev here - he's been brought up properly, at least
since he's been here, and he always swallows it. Isn't that right,
Kev?"

"Yes, Mike. Hey, Steve - if you're not going to lick it up, I'll
have it! I love Mike's cum, and that load you shot was so fucking
huge....."

"Watch your language, Kev!", Mike cut in. "You can't have this, as it
is for Steve. It's time he learned what real men do with their cum."

He pushed his hand towards me again, and I could smell that
characteristic smell of hot cum. I felt like gagging, but Mike said

"Come on, Steve. You're a man now, not a little boy! Put your
tongue out, and have a taste, and then when you see that what we've
said is true, I want to see you slurping it all up and licking my
hand clean."

So I did. And they were of course right - the first touch of my
tongue to it and it wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be all
these years. And when I did actually suck and lick it all down, it
was fine. And I discovered something else - licking a man's hand is
actually really exciting: I loved the soft warmth of Mike's palm
against my tongue and lips, and the contrast with the casual
roughness of his fingers: although he was a doctor doing delicate
work with his hands, he did of course work out a lot and I could feel
the small callouses and ridges of hard skin on his fingers as I
licked and sucked at them.

After that, I just lay there, and I felt a big happy smile come over
my face: it just felt so good, so right, to be there with Mike and
Kev and to have been able to talk proper men's talk with them - I've
never been able to do that before. I knew that all my marine buddies
must have had the same sorts of thoughts as I did, but you could
never talk about them to each other.

Kev was going on, though, about being left out! He went on and on
about how I had had Mike jerk me off, how I got to eat Mike's cum,
and so on. Why couldn't he have any fun?

Mike was in a good mood, because he suddenly said, with an amused
smile on his face:

"I can see I'm not going to be able to get to sleep until I've played
with this lad a bit, Steve! Bear with me!"

I thought he was going to wank Kev, or let Kev wank him, but instead
he said to the lad

"OK, just this once. But only because I need my sleep as I've got a
heavy day tomorrow. Go and fetch the oil."

Kev gave an excited little gasp, leaped off the bed and went into the
bathroom, throwing himself back on to the bed a moment later holding
a plastic container of oil. Mike stood up, and Kev hurled himself
down on the bed, face down. He really did seem to be excited, and
was rubbing his body up and down, and making little thrusting motions
in the air with his ass.

Mike bent over him, squirted some of the oil out on to his hands, and
rubbed them down into Kev's ass crack, and all over his back. He
himself was erect by now, and he smeared some of the oil over his
cock, and all over his chest.

"It's just ordinary sunflower oil", he said to me, "You can use those
fancy smelling oils, but I like this. Not only is it cheap, but it
doesn't detract from the smell of your sweat, and the smell of the
guy you're with. Now......"

He was kneeling with his knees on either side of Kev's ass, and be
lowered his body and started to move his erect cock up and down Kev's
ass crack. He then lowered himself on his elbows, so that his chest
was in contact with Kev's back, and started to rock gently, to and
fro - I could see that he was staking his whole weight on his elbows
and knees, so that Kev was snot crushed by Mike's muscular frame and
their oil-slicked bodies were just making the lightest of contacts.

He continued to rock to and fro, alternating this with kneeling up
occasionally and pushing his cock up and down Kev's crack. Kev was
moaning with pleasure - yes, that's it, moaning - no recognisable
sounds, but small gasps and grunts, in time with Mike's rocking.

After a few minutes of this Mike stopped, kneeled up, and slapped
Kev's ass - quite hard, as the slap resounded in the room. But you
could tell it was a friendly slap, not intended to hurt.

"That's enough of that for you tonight, young Kev! I've got to
control myself, or I might go too far! And you're exciting Steve,
too - look, he's hard again, and he says he doesn't like the thought
of men fucking each other. Not that I was fucking you: that
pleasure is being kept in reserve for you, until you've achieved
those targets I set you for your body, and your school work!"

Looking at me, he continued "It's called frottage - the sensual
movement of men's bodies over each other. It's particularly good
when you move your cock up the ass like that - no anal penetration or
anything, just enjoy the feeling of the ass cheeks against your
cock. I almost shot another load then, with Kev's ass massaging my
cock like that. Do you want to try?"

"What? ME?"

"Yes, why not? If you move slowly and carefully, it shouldn't cause
you too much pain from the whipping. And Kev would love it, wouldn't
you, Kev?"

"Oh yes! Please, Steve....."

I lay there for a minute or so, thinking. But there didn't seem to
be any harm in it - it wasn't as if I was going to fuck him. And it
did look like a lot of fun.

So I carefully stood up, and stretched as much as I could. My cock
seemed to have a life of its own, as I was massively erect and I
could feel that straining sensation you get in it when you're in the
middle of something amazingly erotic - like an ordinary erection, but
ten times more.

Mike poured some of the oil into the palm of his hand, and came and
gently massaged my cock with it. As his fingers went over my cock
head, I almost jerked backwards, so strong was the sensation. He
sensed this, and murmured to me to hold steady, but he continued to
gently massage the oil in to me. He even moved my foreskin p and
down, as much as he could with my huge erection, to ensure that there
was a good coating of oil under there, too.

"I think you'd better stick to just rubbing up and down Kev's ass",
he said. "I won't oil the rest of you, as you probably should not
rub up and down as I did as your muscles won't yet stand for it."

He reached out and grabbed Kev's ankles, and pulled the lad down the
bed so that his ass was at the edge. Pushing Kev's legs apart, he
gently guided me in between then and continued

"Don't bend down more than you have to. Bend just your legs to get
to the right height, then move your cock up and down between his ass
cheeks...."

As I started, he went on "Use your hand on your cock to help guide it
in and separate the cheeks a bit... That's right! Feel good?"

It didn't just feel good, it felt sensational! The warmth of Kev's
ass against my cock was fantastic, and the slippery oil made it easy
for my to push it up and down. My foreskin had of course fully
retracted, and my sensitive cock head was sending all sorts of
incredible sensations to me.

Kev was moaning again, and his obvious excitement, and enjoyment of
what I was doing contributed to the feeling of the most intense
pleasure that I had ever known before.

I went on and on, and as my cock was sliding up and downm I too
started to grunt in time with my motion.

"OK, Steve, you'd better stop - I don't think all that action is good
for you", Mike finally said.

"But just one last thing - stand back a bit so your cock isn't down
the crack, more at right angles to it. Then move forward, very
gently, and see what you feel."

I did, and then the very tip of my cock made contact with Kev's ass
hole - the first time I had ever felt a man's hole at all. It was
warmer than the surrounding ass, and I could sort of imagine it lying
there all moist, waiting for my cock head to enter it. Kev was
moving his ass around to "encourage" me, and I too started to move my
hips slightly to alter the angle of my cock. I could feel my cock
leaking pre-cum, and the incredible pleasure I was experiencing
almost made me cum totally.

"OK, Steve! Enough! Come on, back out!", Mike said.

"Kev's panting to be fucked, as you know, and I think he thought that
if he just lay there and wriggled a bit as he was doing, you might
push yourself in. But he's got to wait! Just because he's 16 he
thinks he has the right to have a man's cock up him, but I've told
him he has to earn that privilege!"

"So how was it for you, as they say? There's an awful lot of
pleasure in frottage, and a lot of guys overlook it in the rush to
get their cocks stuck in. But if you'd been doing that for 15
minutes, and THEN went fully into Kev, both of you would have had an
awful lot more pleasure."

"Anyway, guys, fun's over for tonight! Let's all try and get some
sleep."

My return to "normal life" lasted another six days, with every day
giving me my strength back and the exercise programme Mike had
devised restoring my battered muscles to their normal state.

Mike told me that it was so frustrating - every night he had to share
his bed with a superb stud like me, and a highly desirable lad like
Kev, but he couldn't fuck either of us - me because my master was
saving me for his friend, and Kev because "the lazy lad has to learn
to work for the finer things in life". That didn't stop us doing a
lot of other things, though - jerking off with oiled cocks, cum
eating, and frottage all combined to make those nights in bed with
them some of the most extraordinary times that I had ever known.

But on day seven, Mike told Kev to kiss me goodbye, as I had to go
back to my master - he judged me well enough to be able to continue
my recovery all by myself in the gym where I was the slave. And, he
said, he wanted the big fat fee my master was to pay him.

End Of Part 10


MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 11

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups

WORKING OUT

So I was back at my masters. The fabulous gym, pool and spa complex
looked very sterile and bare after the excitement of Mike's house.
Left alone all day - my master was away on a business trip, the house
steward told me - I missed the company of Kev and Mike even more than
I would have done had I at least had my master's visit once a day.

The only thing left to me to do was to workout - so I did, hour after
hour, until I was just so exhausted that I slept from the sheer
tiredness, even though my brain was still active because of the lack
of mental stimulation. I drove myself on - in marine training I had
been used to pushing myself "the extra 10%" and going through that
pain barrier that enables you to continue long after you think you're
finished. But here the "pain" was worse than that, as in the early
days all my muscles shrieked in agony whenever I tried to do anything
too taxing.

I pressed on, though, as I knew my only hope of surviving as a slave
was to please my master - it would be all too easy, I now knew, for
him to send me to the mines where the average life of a slave toiling
away deep under the desert was measured in months only, or even to
the Brazilian organ banks. He had bought me because of my physique
and the general "look" of my body, so, I reasoned, in order to
continue in his service I had to restore that body to the shape it
had been in, or better. So I ignored the constant shouts of pain
from my body, and subjected myself to an almost brutal regime of
running, weights, sit-ups, squats, and all the other "power"
exercises you can do to increase muscle strength and general supreme
physical fitness. In between the hours in the gym, I thrashed up and
down the pool doing endless lengths, as I knew that swimming produces
those long, lean muscles that men so much admire, rather than
the "bunched up" balls of muscle that it's so easy to get if you just
work out. I knew my master wanted strength, fitness, and general
masculine perfection rather than the overdeveloped bloated body that
professional body builders end up with. I also allowed myself time
just to lie in the sun, too, as it was important that the areas of
white skin revealed as the scabs from the whip lashes fell off should
get tanned to the dame deep brown colour as the rest of me - my
master had commented when he first bought me that he did not like the
way Western men had white areas around their asses and cocks because
they always wore swimming shorts, so, I reasoned, he would like even
less a "striped" effect on my back because of the whipping he had
ordered.

If I ever stopped to think, I was basically rather ashamed at
participating so fully in my own slavedom. Here I was, a big, virile
man, trying to turn myself into something that another man would
crave - all my previous life told me that this was not the way men
behaved: "real" men did not worry about their appearance, and
certainly did not go out of the way to turn themselves into objects
of desire. However I stuck firm to my purpose - if I was to survive
slavery, it could only be because my master allowed it. I was
totally in his power I now knew, and he thought of me only as
something that he had bought to give him pleasure. He had no regard
for me as a man, only as a specially selected, expensive, animal that
could be trained to perform tasks for him.
So the days passed, and I continued to work. Nothing changed - I was
fed twice a day, cleaned the whole area, and worked out. As I lay by
the pool in the time I had allotted for tanning, I could hear "life"
on the other side of the high wall - I knew that out there was the
American Embassy, guarded by marines; it might even now be guarded
by marines who were ex-buddies of mine. But it was totally
unattainable - we lived in different worlds. I was a slave, behind
the walls of my master's palace, and they were free men in a tiny
enclave of "free" America, where the rules of slavery did not apply.
I could not cross from one to the other, though, as I knew from my
previous experience how my master's whiles and the Ambassador's
desire not to upset my master would prevent me from ever escaping
that way to get back home.

I don't know how long it was, but one evening my master appeared in
the gym and, just as if nothing had happened, started to strip off
his clothing prior to starting to exercise. He gave no explanation
of where he had been, and did not even comment on his absence, or on
the terrible punishment that he had ordered for me before he left. I
suppose it did not even occur to him that he needed to say anything -
after all, I was only a slave, and slaves do not require
explanations: in his view of the world, I was just there for his
pleasure. He would not think of commenting to a pet dog or cat about
his life, or the things in it, so why should he to a slave?

We took up exactly where we left off, with his programme of
exercising and swimming. He had left the machines in the gym when he
went away, and they were still there when he came back; and so was
I. That's the view I believe he had of me - a part of the equipment
of his gym, and nothing more.

RENEWING ACQUAINTANCES

It was probably the fifth day after my master's return when, in the
middle of the day, Mike suddenly appeared. He greeted me cheerily,
more like a friend than a slave, and took the time to run his hands
over my body - not in a sexual way as lovers would, or as a master
would when his is examining a piece of man flesh when contemplating a
purchase, but as a concerned doctor. He got me to flex my muscles so
he could see that there were no tiny scars or abrasions still on my
back and thighs, then rolled my nipples most tenderly between his
thumb and forefinger to make sure that the whipping he had
administered there had not damaged them.

"OK", he then said, "Drop those shorts, bend over, and spread your
ass - I need to look at your hole and make sure that's OK, too."

I had been wearing my master's shorts from the day before, as during
hard exercise I still preferred to have support for my cock and
balls, but I was of course not at all self-conscious of taking them
off in front of Mike. Not only was he a doctor, but of course we had
spent all those days together totally nude. It was however he first
time I had felt his fingers on my hole, and as their strong coolness
touched my moist warmth, a thrill of pleasure swept through me - if
the touch of a guy on that sensitive tissue could do this to me, what
would a cock feel like, I wondered. And I began to see why Kev had
moaned in ecstasy when the tip of my cock had brushed over and over
his hole when we were doing the frottage.

There was a hard slap on my ass, and Mike said "That's fine, Steve!
One of the best holes I've seen - and I've seen a few! There's
absolutely no sign of damage, and I only wish your master would let
me play with you properly up there. But when he said I could come
and use the gym, and use you as a workout partner just as he does
(although I think you'll find it a lot harder to keep up with me), it
was on the strict understanding that there's to be no sex."

"I'm not allowed to fuck you, as he's still saving you as a 'welcome
gift' to his friend, and he doesn't even want any jerking off or
anything. He says that if you're denied the touch and feel of
another man, your response to his friend will be all the more
explosive when he first takes you."

As he was speaking, Mike was stripping off the clothes he wore, which
were pretty minimal anyway, just a loose T-shirt, baggy exercise
shorts with a string waist, and trainers. I bent down and put on my
master's shorts again, catching a whiff of his body odour as I did
so. It struck me as strange that I, the slave, was wearing shorts,
and Mike, a free man, was nude - but it suited both of us!

Mike was right - exercising with him was much harder work that being
the workout buddy for my master, as Mike was fitter, bigger, and more
energetic! It turned into a real contest between us - the sort of
contest that men have without ever saying they are in competition.
Neither of us ever said "I'll race you....", or "I can lift more than
you...", or whatever, but we both knew we were competing with the
other guy. Typical behaviour of men who are supremely confident in
their physical abilities, and where the natural tendency, bred into
them over thousands of years of evolution, is to be the "top dog".

We ended the session simply collapsed by the side of the pool,
soaking up the late afternoon sun, just lying there, side by side,
not needing to say anything as real buddies do when they are content
just to be in each other's company. Then I heard the door open, as
my master arrived for his evening session. Knowing that I wanted to
please him in all things, I at one scrambled to my feet and ran to
help him change.

Mike followed, and stood there chatting to my master as he stripped
off. I felt humiliated at having to pick up and fold my master's
clothes as he discarded them - a moment ago I felt the equal of Mike
as we lay there, and now I was clearly a slave, whereas he, in spite
of his nakedness, was clearly a master.

The interruption to my usual routine caused me to forget one vital
matter, and suddenly my master stopped talking to Mike and screamed
at me

"Slave! How dare you defy me again! I told you that another act of
open defiance would lead to the loss of your balls, and this is it!
How dare you!"

"Master, I... I'm sorry. What I have done to displease you? I was
only talking to master Mike..."

"Don't compound your crime, slave! Before that deplorable incident
when you tried to escape, I warned you about your insolent
behaviour. I told you it was not seemly for a slave to be clothed
when his master was naked, and punished you for it. I warned you
that any further acts of wilful disobedience would result in an
extreme punishment, and that time has come! Your further insolence
in pretending not to know the cause of my anger is simply another
proof that you are too arrogant to be a slave properly, and that my
decision to have you castrated is the right one. Now, don't stand
there compounding the problem, take off those shorts as I am naked -
I've told you many times that I cannot bear a slave who believes hat
he has the right to conceal parts of his body from his maser,
especially when the master is fully exposed to the slave!"

I did as I was told, and let the tiny silken shorts fall to the
ground.

"Whilst you're here, Mike", my master went on, you can now examine
this slave's balls. I will send him to your surgery tomorrow for the
operation."

Mike came over, and told me to stand on one of the benches so that my
balls were more convenient for him to examine. He first cupped them
in his hands, and I squirmed a bit and almost gasped as he first
separated them with his thumb, then rolled his thumb over each in
turn as it lay in the palm of his hand. Then he told me to turn
around, spread my legs, and bend over to touch my toes.

"See", I heard him say to my master, "From the rear you can really
see how they hang. It can be deceptive from the front, but between
the legs, particularly if the slave is low hung like this one, you
can more easily judge the relative size and shape of each ball."

"You are presumably planning to have the prosthetic ones installed at
the same time, sir?

"Come on, Mike! Prosthetic balls! Is this just a way of further
increasing that outrageous fee I already pay you every month for the
health care of my slaves?

"No, sir, it was a serious consideration. In my father's time it was
of course the fashion just to cut the balls off cleanly, taking the
sac with them, then cauterise the wound. You're left with a slave
with his cock just hanging down over nothing, and some masters
considered this attractive and just had it done for that reason.
Nowadays, though, I can do more."

"Specifically, for good-looking slaves like this one, I recommend
fitting prosthetic balls so as not to spoil the general appearance of
him - I assume you're going to want to continue to exercise with him,
and this is just a punishment to teach him a lesson he will never
forget?"

"Yes", my master replied.

"Well then", Mike continued, "I would not recommend removing the
balls and the sac. Instead, I will slit the back of the sac open,
and pull each ball out in turn and simply snip them off from their
blood supply and suspensor ligaments. Before I sew the sac back up,
prosthetic balls can be inserted, and there's a number of choices you
can consider."

"Firstly, we can use ones made of a core of hard plastic with less
resistant plastic on the outside. These approximate very well to the
general weight and feel of real balls, so the slave's look will be
essentially unchanged, and if your guests want to grope him and tease
his balls, they will not be able to tell."

"Secondly, we can go for stainless steel balls - if these are the
same size as the ones I cut out, they'll also be much heavier. So
his sac will stretch, and they will hang lower. Although this boy is
so well hung already, it might be a bit extreme in his case as they
might look as I they're reaching to his knees!"

"And then thirdly, there is the whole question of the look
generally. As I have said, you can have them hang lower by fitting
heavy balls. Of course you can also have them carried higher - I
just sew up the bottom of the sac. This one might be very attractive
re-mounted that way - imagine two balls slightly bigger than he has
now, carried really high under the base of the cock. The cock would
rest on them, rather than hang separately as now, and so it would
tend to jut out more: I'm sure you're familiar with slaves who look
like that."

"Quite so", my master replied. "And I suppose you can do different
sizes?"

"Oh of course, sir. If you're striving for realism, rather than one
of the more extreme situations such as the balls being stretched
right down, or carried very high, then you need to replicate the
slave's basic equipment. Almost all men have one ball bigger than
the other, and so the replacements can mirror this by being
differently sized, too. The objective is after all to make
something 'perfect', so that only you and the slave know he is an
impotent mule, whereas to the rest of the world your investment in
the slave appears to have paid off handsomely"

"Excellent!", my master said. "I want him to have stainless steel
balls, about 20% heavier than now so that the end of the sac is right
down, at the level of the tip of the cock when the slave is flaccid.
Can you do that?"

"Certainly, sir. There's a set of tables that correlate the
elasticity of the skin that we can quickly measure with a small
instrument, the length of the current sac, the current weight of the
balls (we have this as soon as they are cut out), and the desired
hanging height. They just tell us which size ball set to select. It
couldn't be easier, and the whole thing is accurate to within 5% as
we've now had so much experience of this type of operation. If you
have the slave to me by 09:00, he can be back here ready for your
evening gym session."

"You mean he will be able to exercise with me tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir. It will be somewhat painful for the slave, but then he's
only a slave so it doesn't matter. The sewing up of the sac is
relatively trivial, and the good blood supply there ensures that it
all heals up quite quickly. Your own exercise programme should not be
disrupted at all."

"And after that?", my master enquired.

"Well, nothing, really. If you want the slave trained as a fighter,
he would actually be improved as even if his opponent grabs him by
the balls, it won't have the desired effect! It won't affect his
performance in bed, as only a small proportion of ejaculate is sperm,
the rest being seminal fluid from the prostate, and that's
unaffected. He loses the production of masculine hormones, of
course, so to keep him in really tiptop condition as he is, I'd
recommend a course of hormone treatments - but that can be done
weekly and once he has been injected once or twice, he can do it
himself."

"Good! I need to teach the insolent fellow a lesson, and this all
seems very easy. And he will know that if he ever displeases me
again I can cut off the hormone supply and that hard, toned body of
which he is so proud will slip into one of those silky-smooth,
fatter, eunuch's bodies - just like a woman! What a powerful
incentive for him to behave properly in future. I can't think why I
don't do it to more slaves. I will have him shipped to you in a
transit cage first thing tomorrow morning."

I had been left bending over whilst this conversation was going on,
and as well as the humiliation of standing with my ass and the back
of my balls exposed and discussed like that, I was horrified at what
they were proposing. It wasn't just the castration itself - that was
bad enough - but the way they talked about it so casually. It was
nothing to do with me, just what my master wanted. And Mike, who had
treated me so well, was now calmly discussing how he would just snip
my balls out, and giving my master all these choices for their
replacement. I wanted to leap down and attack both of them, but what
was the point? I almost certainly could not overpower both of them,
abut even if I did, the guards would kill me as soon as they found
out. Was I going to have to survive as less than a man, as a
eunuch? That seemed to be the only choice facing me.

"There is just one thing, though", Mike replied, "You will of course
not be able to breed from him. If you were planning to put any of
his physical traits into your herd, you might want to postpone the
operation for a couple of weeks - have him milked heavily twice a
day, and send the sperm to one of those specialised places where they
have good cryogenic facilities to store slave sperm."

"A good point, doctor. But I don't think it's relevant in this case -
there's a whole lot of good looking, well built slaves out there to
choose from, and there's nothing special about this slave that needs
breeding in to my herd. However it does occur to me that my friend,
to whom I have promised this slave's virginity, is very much looking
forward to playing with him - from what you say, that won't be
affected, will it?"

So now their conversation had turned so that it was just as if they
were talking about a prize bull or something, not me, a man, even
though I was slave! Surely they couldn't really be thinking of doing
this to me - it was perhaps some sort of elaborate joke between them
at my expense - but I knew, deep down, that they could. My master
had not hesitated to have me flogged to within an inch of death; and
even though Mike had been really friendly to me whilst I was
recovering, once recovery was over he had not hesitated to send me
back in order to collect his fee. Their view of slavery conditioned
their every thought and action.

I felt like shouting and screaming at them that it was me they were
talking about, not some piece of meat! To my master, though, that
was just what I was. My mind in turmoil, I carried on wondering what
to do, as Mike continued

"Not unless your friend is a real connoisseur. He might detect some
slight difference in the taste of the cum, but it 's very slight and
there's not much there to start with, as we all know. He will of
course detect the 'feel' of the stainless steel balls as we'll need
to use those, rather than the plastic ones, to get the degree of hang
you require. And if he plays with the slave's balls violently, he'll
certainly know that something has happened as the slave just won't
react, whereas a normal slave would be retching, writhing on the
floor, and screaming in agony."

"Ah, well, I may need to postpone the operation, doctor. I have
promised my friend the slave 'au naturel', and I don't think he would
appreciate these changes. When he first makes the slave cum to
provide lubrication for his ass hole, I think he would like it to
be 'real' cum, even if the difference is, as you say, very slight.
My friend is very much into the simple life, buys organic products,
only drives a large car rather than a limousine, you know the sort of
person. If he thought he was having to put up with something
artificial, it would not give him as much pleasure as 'the real
thing', and he's been deprived of slaves for so long that he deserves
a treat."

My master looked at me and continued "Well, slave, it looks as if you
owe my friend again! He's already saved your life, and now he's
saved your manhood. I trust you will be suitably grateful when he
first comes to possess you!"

With that, my master pulled his exercise clothes on himself, and went
off to exercise with Mike. I went to join in with them as usual, but
both of them waved me away - when there were 'real' men to work out
with, neither of them wanted to have to use a slave. I felt
humiliated, as I thought my master liked working out with me, and I
almost thought of Mike as a friend - and both of them had now
rejected me absolutely, I was rather like an escort or prostitute
with a regular client who he likes and who he though liked him, who
is just about to have a session when a "regular" guy appears and the
escort is left in the cold as the client prefers going with a "free"
man.

I cleared up, and just waited around - I didn't dare risk their wrath
by going into the gym or pool area whilst they were in there. When
they came out, they similarly commanded me to stay out of the shower,
and I could see them both enjoying each other's bodies as they
showered together, soaping each other clean, shampooing each other's
hair, and so on.

When they came back into the changing room, my master seemed
surprised that Mike made no attempt to dress. "I'm going straight
out to the car and driving home, and I prefer being naked", he told
my master.

My master started to dress, then looked at Mike's magnificent body.
He stopped what he was doing, went over to Mike, wrapped his arms
around him and kissed him. Mike responded, of course, and within
seconds they were moaning and grappling at each other's bodies whilst
their lips were locked together and I could tell from the movements
of their cheeks that their tongues were lashing each other to a
frenzy.

The next instant they were on the floor, Mike on his back with, my
master between his legs. My master was kneading Mike's tits and Mike
was groaning and shouting with pleasure. I saw my master's erect
cock move in towards Mike's ass hole, as Mike first gripped my master
around his waist with his legs, then moved them up to be on my
master's shoulders.

Then my master stopped his preparations for fucking Mike in
midstream, and commanded me over to be beside them. Curtly he told
me to jerk off, as he needed my semen to lube Mike!

I've never been so humiliated, having to stand there and try and jerk
myself off with the two men watching me, especially as they expected
me to get hard instantly and come at once, so they could resume their
own pleasure. You just can't cum like that - well, I can't.

First of all I had a problem getting an erection, then, as hard as I
beat at my cock, I just couldn't persuade even a tiny drop of cum to
flow! The eyes of the two men on me, the general shame of having to
do it, and the need to do it quickly on command all combined to make
me absolutely dry. I know there's supposedly no shame in not cumming
sometimes when you really want to - but that's what it
is: "supposedly". Any guy who can't shoot a load when he tries knows
how deeply shaming it is not to be able to perform this essential
function of a man.

"Slave, you have two minutes to obey me and provide me with cum", my
master said, "Else I will have you castrated anyway. If you're not
going to cum when a master commands you, you don't deserve those
balls. You've tried my patience sorely already since I owned you,
and I might just decide to cut my losses - and your balls!"

Whilst he was saying this I had continued to beat at my cock, and I
was doing it desperately. My hand was gripped tight around the shaft
as it frantically slid up and down, and I was using my other hand to
tease my cock head and fiddle with my piss slit. My hips were
thrusting forwards as I tried to simulate fucking in the hope of
having some psychological effect. But I still didn't think I could
do it, and my cock was actually getting painful from the friction -
if I wasn't careful, I found myself thinking, I'd end up with
those "wank burns" we all get as lads.

It was fortunate for me that, almost at the end of my tether, the
inevitable ultimately happened and I shot, and my hand was already
positioned to catch the load. I was panting and breathing so hard,
and I was covered in sweat from the attempts.

My master said nothing, but imply beckoned me to come closer. He
dipped his fingers in the pool of cum on my outstretched hand, and
reached down and started to lube Mike's ass. Satisfied, he used more
to grease his own cock, then slid forward to fuck Mike.

Neither man seemed at all concerned that I was standing there
watching them - I know Mike was generally uninhibited, and my master
was of course used to being naked in front of me. But to fuck in
front of another man - surely they would feel embarrassment, or
something? Then it occurred to me what was happening - I was a
slave, and I simply didn't count. Either man was prepared to do
anything, even the most basic acts, in front of me as it just didn't
matter. You could do anything to slaves, with slaves, or in front of
slaves, and who cared?

Mike was groaning and thrashing around under my master, who was
taking big, stabbing thrusts up Mike's ass. Then he came, with great
shout, and collapsed down on top of Mike. Both men were kissing
again, and just lying there enjoying the animal pleasures they had
just experienced. I heard my master say

"It's good to be home, so I can fuck properly again. You know I've
just come back from London, New York, and LA - well, can you believe
it, I haven't had as good a fuck as you since I left."

"Why's that, sir?" Mike asked.

"It's this basic problem with condoms. Every man I wanted to fuck
there more or less insisted on using them, and it's so unnatural.
And all those tubes of chemical lube, too, disgusting! It's so much
better to take a man up the ass with your naked cock, so both of you
get the feeling of warmth from the other man's body, and experience
that true manly intimacy as your cock is gripped by his ass. And
why should you need chemicals to slick up with, when there's a
perfect natural ingredient - it's almost as if cum has been designed
to lube cocks and asses, it's so good."

"These Westerners think they're so sophisticated", he continued, "But
I think there's nothing to beat a good natural fuck like we have just
had. It's Ben a real pleasure to be able to feel your ass around me
properly, doctor."

"Unfortunately of course there is a penalty to pay for this
spontaneity. You have not cleaned yourself out, doctor - no, don't
apologise, as here's no reason why you should have - it's not as if
you were expecting us to fuck today. My bed slaves are always purged
inside before they make it to my chamber, of course, so I'm not used
to having my cock covered in shit when it comes out. So you and I
had better get back in the shower! I suppose there is some good in
everything."

He and Mike then again enjoyed the pleasure of washing each other,
and I could see Mike's big strong sensitive hands paying particular
attention to soaping and washing my master's cock. Somehow I felt
envious - was it the thought of my master's cock in my hands, or the
thought of being handled so masterfully but so gently my Mike, I
wondered.

My master dressed, and, one arm companionably around Mike's naked
shoulder, they left. It seemed even more alone than usual in the
complex when they had gone.

End Of Part 11



MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 12

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups

SPIT ROASTED

The next day Mike was there again, and it was really good to have
another strong man to work out with - there was that unspoken
competition between us that men always have when they are doing
physical things. Who was really the top dog? As we sweated and
grunted our way through our gruelling programmes we kept looking at
each other to see who was going to have to stop first! This is the
way that real men engage with each other, arriving at an
understanding of who is the boss.

When we had both finally had enough, we went out to the showers.
Although Mike allowed me to soap him and wash him, he made no move to
reciprocate - after all the fun times we had had in bed during my
last few days of recovery, I naturally expected that he would again
want to indulge in the mutual pleasure we had had. I even took his
hand and placed it on my cock (which reared into an erection) in the
hope of interesting him. I thought he would be pleased, but instead
he snapped at me

"How dare you, slave! Never touch a master like that again! If I
want to fondle you, I do not need your permission or encouragement.
You are a slave and I am a master, and I decide whether to enjoy your
body or not. I will overlook your transgression on this occasion,
but should it happen again I will ask your master to order a
whipping or beating."

"I'm sorry, Mike, I thought...."

"Slaves don't think! Slaves obey! Just because I chose to allow you
certain liberties and pleasures when you were in my care does not
mean that this should continue."

"Look, Steve", he went on, changing his tone slightly to be a little
more friendly, "You're a nice guy but you won't survive as a slave
unless you start thinking like one. I'm being hard on you now for
your own good - if you had done that to any other master, he would
certainly have ordered you to be punished. Masters want to be in
control, and make the running - it just isn't seemly for a slave to
do it. So from now on I will treat you like a slave. If I want to
be sucked, then I will command you to do it. If I choose to fuck
you, then I will. But for your own good you'd better learn - and
learn quickly - that our role is just to serve, to accept, and to be
commanded."

He then went back into "command" mode, and continued "That's it,
slave. I'm finished. Get a towel and dry me."

So that was it. I dried him, as I would my master, and without
another word to me he dressed in his skimpy clothes and left. Not
even a "goodbye", or a "see you tomorrow". He was treating me like
the slave I was.

When he'd gone my loneliness was if anything more extreme that it had
ever been before when I was alone here in the gym. I now new that I
could never look forward to anything more than this - my master would
occasionally use me as his workout partner, and might occasionally
speak to me, or perhaps even use me sexually. But there would never
be any of the pleasures of human conversation, or real human
contact. They just didn't see me as a man - I was just an object to
be used, there for their pleasure and nothing more, and no more to
them than any other piece of equipment provided in the gym for their
use.

The day after that Mike did not appear until the evening, when he
came in arm in arm with my master. They again exercised together,
and I was simply left out altogether. All I could do was stand there
and watch as they enjoyed their workout, "spotting" for each other on
the weights, exchanging the odd word as they pounded away on the
running machines, and so on. This was the way that "men" acted
together, the way that I wanted to be with my master, or with Mike.
But I now knew that here was no possibility of this, as they were
masters, and I was just a slave.

After they were showered and were back in the luxurious changing
room, my master looked at Mike and said

"Doctor, I enjoyed that work out. But there's one part of me that
wasn't used. My cock is, as you will see, sad at being left out and
is bringing itself to my attention..... Let's fuck."

Looking down at my master's cock, that was now fully erect, Mike
replied

"I'm sorry, sir, but my ass is a bit tender today. I had my regular
liaison with the slave dealer Ras, and he's so well built that it
always leaves me a bit sore the next day even though I ought to be
used to it by now. But if your cock needs its daily exercise, what's
wrong with the slave there? He looks a tasty morsel."

"Oh him, doctor. Well, fucking a slave is all right, but it can't
compare with what real men do to each other. Are you certain I can't
fuck you, even if I'm careful?"

"I'd rather you didn't, sir. But I'm really impressed with that cock
of yours - can I suck you off...?" As he said this, Mike had moved
to stand next to my master and was now fondling his erection. Mike
had, of course, also become hard, and my own erection had sprung into
life too as I saw these two desirable men standing there starting to
enjoy each other's bodies.

"No, doctor. Let's use the slave instead. I see he's showing an
interest in our activities!"

"Well, sir, how are we going to do that? Spit roast him, obviously.
But who's going to fuck his face, and who's going to fuck his ass?"

"A good question, doctor. As he's my slave, I can do either whenever
I want. As my guest, you must have the pleasure of selecting."

"No, sir, that wouldn't be right. You are the boss here, and I'm
only a doctor! You choose, of course."

"No, doctor, I insist - you choose".

Clearly I was not even considered in their thinking - it didn't
matter which of these men I would prefer to take my ass. As a slave,
I could have no opinion.

"Well, sir, we can't go on arguing like this all evening - I'm
starting to get a pain in my balls from waiting to start. Why don't
we toss a coin for it - that's fair to both of us."

"An excellent idea, doctor. You get a coin from your pocket, as I
never carry money of course. We don't even have to do that thing of
shouting 'heads' or 'tails' as the coin lands... You toss the coin,
and if it lands 'heads' I will face fuck him, and if it lands 'tails'
I will take him up the ass."

So that was it - again, I was no more than an elaborate sex toy.
Neither of these men thought anything of taking me either way, and
neither of them even thought of asking me which way I would want.

As it happens, the coin landed "heads" so that I knew that I would at
least have Mike up my ass. I should have been looking forward to it -
it's what I'd wanted all those nights when he and Kev and I had been
in bed together, but he never would as he had understood my master's
requirement to "save" me for a later date.

"Slave, lie on that bench!", my master commanded, and I did as I was
told. It was just the standard sort of changing bench as you see in
changing rooms everywhere - slatted, polished wood, and I went over
and stretched out on it, on my belly, so that my ass was ready for
Mike.

"NO, fool!", my master snapped. "On your back, as I am going to face
fuck you at the same time!"

I flipped over, and wriggled along the bench a bit so that my head
was off the end and flopped downwards - I'd heard that this opened up
your throat into a straighter line, so it was easier for a master to
get his entire cock down (and easier for the slave, who would not be
so likely to gag, which is what I was worried about).

My master positioned himself behind my head, and pushed his massive
cock forwards towards my lips. At the same time, I felt Mike lift up
and spread open my legs. I couldn't see what he was doing, as my
master's body was now blocking my view as his cock entered my mouth,
but from the sensation and the noises I guessed that Mike had knelt
down and spat at my ass hole, then had massaged the spit into it as a
lube.

Almost simultaneously my master thrust his cock forward , and my
whole mouth was filled with the meaty head., and at the same time I
felt the tip of Mike's cock warm against my anus. I could taste the
bath lotion overlaying that regular taste of cock that you always get
as my master thrust into me, and at the same time that indescribable
mixture of pain and pleasure as Mike started to ram home into my ass.

This is what I'd wanted - Mike's big, hot cock filling my ass and my
whole consciousness. But not like this! I had wanted Mike to take
me slowly and lovingly, with his body pressing close to mine and with
me able to respond to him. I wanted to groan and moan as he thrust
at me, and to be able to tell him how much I was enjoying the feel of
his body inside mine. But in this situation I could do none of this -
this wasn't making love, it was just being fucked.

Mike stood there, my legs on his shoulders, and simply thrust away.
I was experiencing the pain and the pleasure, but there was no
response I could give: my master's cock was completely filling my
entire mouth and was probing down my throat - it was all I could do
to prevent myself from gagging, and there was no possibility of my
saying anything or expressing any form of pleasure in what Mike was
doing.

I really lost track of what was happening - at some moments I was
aware of the delicious warmth of Mike inside me as he pushed in and
out, and at other times the sensation of my maser's cock in my
throat. But I could not properly focus on either, so intense were
both sets of sensations.

I was not involved in their passion at all. I was just a convenient
receptacle for their cocks. I could see them leaning towards each
other over my body, then starting to kiss passionately and grasp at
each other's bodies above mine. They continued to enjoy each other
whilst thrusting away, and both men were making those grunts and
sounds that you start to hear as they approach their climax.

My mouth and throat filled with my master's cum, and almost at the
same moment Mike gave one final shout and I realised that he, too,
had cum inside me. Both men carried on kissing and stroking each
other, than withdrew and stood there looking at each other, gasping
and sweating from their passion.

My master looked at Mike's detumescing cock, and I heard him say

"I must apologise, doctor. This is not one of my usual sex slaves,
so he isn't regularly flushed out. I'm afraid that there's a whole
lot of shit on your cock. Will you shower again? Or, of course, if
you are in a hurry, we will have the slave clean it off- it's his
shit after all."

"Thank you for your consideration, sir, but a quick shower will be
fine. I'm sweating all over, too, as that slave's ass is such a good
tight fuck that I really rather enjoyed myself and was more vigorous
than I have been for a long time! Won't you join me?"

With that, the two men walked back into the shower, and again I could
see the pleasure they took in soaping and washing each other.

Then I was alone again, and could clean myself up - I probed my ass
for a taste of Mike's cum in an effort to try to remember him, but it
was so mixed up with my own shit that this was impossible. All I
could do was stand there, lonely, and wash myself clean, remembering
with envy the way my master and Mike had been able to enjoy each
other.


And so my life went on. If I was lucky my master came for his
exercise, and that was the only human contact I had. I continued to
take care of myself, and was really proud of the way that I had
turned from a well-build, fit, but "ordinary" guy into a real power
house of strength and energy. I avoided those very "gym" muscles by
dint of ensuring that my workouts emphasised length as well as
just "power" exercises. I had a body that I, and any man, would be
proud of.

WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE......


So this was it, life as a slave. Nothing much "happened" to me. No
human contact, just my master, and occasionally Mike, treating me
like an object rather than as a person. I was fucked a few more
times, but always as if I was just there as a receptacle or their
cocks - it was their pleasure that was important, and their
requirements were the only ones that mattered. In all other respects
I was treated well - there was just enough food so that I felt
slightly hungry all the time, but my body could develop - there was
however no chance of me laying down even the slightest layer of fat,
and my body had the fashionable "lean and mean" look. I was
regularly examined by Mike as my master's doctor, to make sure I was
in excellent physical condition, and I was not whipped or beaten as I
had by then learned how to obey my master's slightest wish
immediately and without hesitation (even those wishes that he merely
indicated by the tilt of a hand, or the flicker of an eye - he did
not waste unnecessary words commanding a slave).

I was of course a valuable piece of stock, and just as you would look
after a prize race horse by giving him the best food and veterinarian
care, so too was I looked after. It was just economic sense for my
master - having spent so much money acquiring and training me, he now
wanted to get the results of his investment.

My regular, if boring and humbling , life changed abruptly when one
day my master appeared in the gym with a tall, thin blond guy, of
about his own age. They were chattering away in rapid Arabic, even
though the stranger did not look like an Arab in terms of his
physique or colouring. You could tell from the way that they caught
each other's eyes, and touched each other from time to time, that
they were close friends.

My master brought the newcomer over to me and they continued to
chatter away to each other. My Arabic had not improved since I was
enslaved as I had no opportunity to learn it - my master rarely
spoke, and when he did, it was in English. So I had no real idea of
what they were talking about, except that it was me!

"So, old friend, this is the moment you have been waiting for... Here
is the slave you were looking forward to", my master said, switching
into his faultless fluent English.

"I'm afraid that he's no longer a virgin, as I had hoped, but we got
a little carried away one night here and I simply fucked him. But I
can thoroughly recommend him - good and muscular, and really tight."

"Oh don't worry, he's such a perfect specimen from what I can see,
that it really doesn't matter that he's slightly used!"

Then, coming closer to me, he snapped "Get out of those shorts, so I
can see you properly."

I had been waiting in my exercise shorts, and now of course did as he
commanded, and stood there in front of my master and what I now knew
must be the long-awaited friend. Having two men look at my naked
body brought back all those old feelings of shame and humiliation - I
had got used to being naked in front of my master in the environment
of the gym, but both of them were completely dressed - my master in
his traditional robes, and the friend in a Western business suit,
pale blue shirt, and expensive silk tie.

The man came up to me and snapped "Display", and almost by reflex I
went into the position I had been taught that slaves should assume -
my hands clasped behind my neck, my feet apart, my eyes looking at a
spot about three feet in front of me, and my hips thrust slightly
forward so that my genitals were better exposed,

He then started a detailed examination of my body, probing my neck
muscles, then my biceps, running his hands down the sides of my ribs,
coming back to take my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger
and roll it around so that I wanted to squirm and shout - I'm very
sensitive there.

"Ah, Ethan, you have found one of this slave's weaknesses - extremely
tender nipples. Remember that, as you can use it as a mild
punishment for him if you don't want to go so far as to order a
flogging or whipping", my master said.

Ah, so the friend's name was Ethan - he must presumably be an
American like me, as Europeans don't use this name.

The examination continued. The man Ethan probed my belly button with
the tip of his little finger, and again I experienced that terrible
mixture of pain and pleasure that some men get when their navel is
abused. But his hands were then moving on down, his fingers running
over the lines of muscle across my belly, until he reached down to
cup my balls in the palm of his hand. As he separated each ball with
his thumb and quite roughly rolled it around, trapped inside the sac,
I thought I might throw up, but I held on, and the examination was
soon over. I didn't like it either when he quite roughly pushed my
foreskin back so that my moist cock head was exposed, then raked his
thumb nail over it. I couldn't help myself - my body took over, and
I jerked my hips backwards, to try to get my cock away from him.

"Steady, slave!", my master commanded. "Master Ethan is only
examining you. Hold still!"

But fortunately this part of the examination was over, because Ethan
went round behind me and I could feel his hands examining my
shoulders. Then sliding down the sides of my back to cup my ass
cheeks in his hands and start to squeeze them.

"Excellent! Just what I had hoped for", he said to my master. "You
can see that he's not used to this sort of examination - you've
managed to tame him a little, but not turned him into so much of a
slave that he's lost all of that defiant nature that must have made
him a good marine."

"So shall I have him shipped to your quarters this evening?", my
master asked. "I think it might be advisable to have him restrained
in some way, as he is as you say not completely 'broken'. Whilst I
don't think there's all that much likelihood of him attacking you, if
you want to play with his body totally he might forget his slave
training and defy you when you are planning some of the more intimate
pleasures."

"No, old friend! Not tonight! We have not seen each other for over
four months, and tonight is for us! Now I'm stationed here, there
will be many opportunities for me to take this slave, whereas you are
a busy man - let's enjoy each other tonight. I've waited so long for
this slave that another night isn't going to make a bit of
difference. I'd much rather be with an old friend, than an uncouth
slave!"

So I was "safe" for another night - but what lay ahead? My master
and Ethan went out, arm in arm, and I was left wondering what to do.
If I was going to try to escape again, this would be my last
opportunity. But would it work - would I be sent back again, as I
had been last time, and what then would happen to me? I'd almost
certainly be killed - but was that worse than becoming the fuck toy
of the blond American? And, anyway, how could he do this? He was
an American, like me, and he knew I was a Marine. Surely he didn't
think that he could get away with what would in effect be rape? But,
my mind continued, yes he could and he would - look at how the
American Embassy had treated me in order to preserve good relations
with my master.

Perhaps I should just co-operate - after all, I'd already had one
cock up me, and I had been wanting Mike to fuck me when I was in
recovery. Perhaps I was not as straight as I had thought. Perhaps I
would get to enjoy Ethan. Perhaps I could turn myself into a really
useful slave - after all, my life as a fuck toy was rather limited -
even if my master did not tire of me, my body would one day lose its
perfection as I aged. So perhaps I should make a determined attempt
to learn Arabic, so that I could do other domestic duties. Perhaps....

However at that instant all my choices evaporated, as two of my
master's guards came in and told me that I was required in my
master's bed chamber.

Fresh horrors were waiting on the way, though. I was led into a
tiled ante room, where two naked slaves were standing holding long,
flexible hoses. They told me to take off my shorts, then to bend
over and touch my toes. I then felt the end of one of the hoses
probing at my ass, and the slaves told me to try to relax and let
them get on with their work - I shouldn't try to fight the entry of
the hose into me. It seemed to be inevitable, whatever they were
doing, so I remained bent as they continued to push.

I could then feel something starting to flow up inside me, and the
slaves told me to stand upright. I realised that water was flowing
into my guts, and as my belly started to distend with the volume, I
started to get incredible cramping pains. One of the slaves - a
tall, muscular guy - stood behind me, pressed himself close to me,
reached around my body and started to massage my stomach.

"Hang in there", he said, and I was surprised it was in
English. "It's just a water enema. We'll pump you full, then wait a
few minutes, then you can let fly!"

They pulled out the hose, and I've never wanted to crap so much in
all my life. But the slaves told me to "hold it in", and continued
to massage me, then told me to jump up and down a bit.

Finally, when the cramping pains from my guts were almost more than I
could bear, they led me over to a tiled area draining into a big
hole, and said "Now!"

I've never felt stuff expelled from my ass with such force. Even the
worse bouts of diarrhoea I've ever had were as nothing compared to
this. It seemed to go on forever, with brown water intermixed with
bits of turd hitting the floor and splashing all three of us as we
stood there. The smell was, of course, disgusting.

"You see why we do this naked now", said the English-speaking slave
to me jokingly.

"But we'll soon all get clean afterwards. Now, that's the first
pass, and we have to go on until you're absolutely clean inside."

"It's for your own good, you know", he continued. "All the slaves
the master is going to fuck get processed here first, so that they
are sweet and clean inside. Then, after master has fucked you, you
can clean off his cock with your tongue - it will only be covered in
bits of his semen, your sweat, and some flecks of your blood if he's
been rough and torn your membranes. If we didn't do a proper job, it
would also have your crap all over it, and then you might go down
with a disease if you cleaned it off. You're too valuable to risk
that, and hence the cleaning. Now, bend over again."

It took three more flushes before I was clean to the satisfaction of
the slaves, and whilst it was going on they told me their story.
They were English, and were thirty years old. They'd been lovers for
several years in England, and were into the "mildly kinky" gays scene
in a big way, always looking for others who wanted to play at scat
and water sports. Made redundant when the economic downturn came,
they had been approached by an Arab who had offered them this job -
preparing slaves for the master's pleasure. When they got to the
country they found that they were to be slaves, rather than
employees, but didn't mind a bit - they were totally relaxed about
being naked with other slaves, and simply loved giving the compulsory
enemas to master's bedroom guests.

"Look", as the one in charge said, "In England we had to really
search out guys who wanted to play with us. We're both young and
good-looking, and most of the guys we did hook up with were old and
fat. Here we get to see absolutely superb examples of manflesh, and
we can do our favourite things with it. We wouldn't go back to
England, even if we had the chance!"

But I didn't get the chance to ask more ,as they judged me to
be "clean" and we moved on to clean my body (and theirs) of the bits
of crap and stuff that had splattered up and were now coating my
legs.

They were expert at showering slaves, too, and getting them "squeaky
clean". The first treatment was with an antiseptic soap, but then
there were endless rinses with clear water as, they said, the master
liked his slaves to have a "natural" smell, untainted by chemicals or
perfumes. Their insistent hands covered every part of my body,
minutely, and afterwards they helped me to towel dry.

"Have fun!", they chorused, as the guards came in to take me
away.

SO THIS IS FUN?

Two giant negroes stood outside a massive pair of oak doors, running
from floor to ceiling. Their genitals were barely concealed by a
tiny scrap of white silk hanging from a gold chain around their
waists, but as they moved to open the doors at the approach of me and
the guards, they were totally inadequate to conceal their huge
penises and low-hanging balls.

The guards left me at the door, and the negroes closed it behind me.
I advanced across a thick carpet, and this felt so strange to my
naked feet - everywhere else in my master's residence the floors were
marble (in the "public" areas), or bare concrete (in the part
reserved for slaves). Somehow it felt even stranger being naked here
in the luxurious "western" surroundings of my master's bedroom than
it did when I was in a "normal" part of the residence.

My master and his friend Ethan were lying in each other's arms on a
huge bed in the centre of the room. They were naked, and the
bedclothes had been tossed onto the floor. The heat in the room was
more than comfortable, so the men were obviously not cold, and were
also clearly used to displaying their bodies to each other as there
was not even a hint of shyness from either of them as I approached.

"Jerk off!", my master commanded when I was almost at the bed.

I was so startled that I forgot my slave training and said

"Sorry, master, what?"

"I said 'jerk off'. We want to watch you masturbate yourself. And
be sure to catch every drop of your cum in your other hand - not only
don't I want it spoiling the carpet, but we need it!"

I don't know if you have ever tried masturbating in front of other
guys, especially if you've been ordered to do it. There are a few
problems! Firstly, you find it difficult to get an erection. And
then you find it's really hard to jerk of standing up - I guess most
of us are used to doing it lying in a bed, or sprawled in a chair.
In this instance the fact that I was in "western" surrounding again,
rather than in the gym, made it even more difficult.

I just couldn't get an erection, and I could se my master was getting
annoyed.

"If your balls are not going to be of any use to us", he
started, "you may as well lose then as I have threatened you with
before."

This was hardly designed to make it any easier for me, and as the two
men lay there watching, I continued to beat at my cock, getting ever
more frantic as I tried to get it to stir into life. As we all know,
if you tease your cock enough it will go erect - eventually - but by
then I had already broken out in sweat all over myself as I continued
to wank myself frantically. In my effort then to cum, I thrust my
hips forward and felt that tight feeling at the back of my knees as I
stood there straining. I thought I was going to catch fire, there
was so much friction between my hand and my dick, but, inevitably, I
did cum and shot a reasonable load into my waiting palm.

I stopped wanking, but my master snapped "Carry on! I want every
last drop milked out of you!"

Now I'm one of those guys who is incredibly sensitive after he has
just cum - any pressure on my cock causes incredible pain. I think
that's something to do with being uncut, as the cock head is
particularly sensitive when it can remain covered all the time. I
wanted to cry out as I started to wank again, feebly, but I could see
that my master was in a bad mood and did not want to risk losing my
balls! So in spite of the pain, I massaged my cock as best I could,
gasping with that incredible shrill feeling as I did, to get all my
cum out.

When I had finished, and was standing there with my detumescing cock
in front of me, my palm filled with my own cum, and my whole body
going cold as the sweat I had generated started to evaporate, my
master started to discuss something in Arabic with Ethan then, in
English again, commanded my to go and lie face down on the bed
between them, being careful not to spill my cum from my hand.

As I did so, I saw Ethan's cock - it was much longer than my
master's, in keeping with his generally rangy body shape, but not
nearly as thick. I saw him get up, and felt him kneel between my
spread out legs, then reach out to coat his fingers with my cum.

The next thing I felt was his slimed finger probing my ass, and then
push itself in and wriggle around. He did it a couple of more times,
all the while talking to my master in Arabic. He reached forward
again to take more of my cum, and by squinting backwards I could see
him coating his long cock with it.

The next think I felt was the hot tip of his cock probing at my ass,
and almost without any effort (perhaps it was the thinness, perhaps
it was because it was all so well lubed) it slipped into me. He
continued pushing, gently, until he must have been totally inside me
because I could feel the heat of his belly pushing against my ass
cheeks. And then he fucked me, crying out occasionally in Arabic to
my master.

I'd then only been fucked by my Mike, so I didn't have that much to
compare it with. But this felt different - it was smooth and gentle,
and gave me exquisite sensations of pleasure as he gently pistoned in
and out of me. I heard myself moaning gently in time to his thrusts,
and it even remained pleasurable as his pace quickened and he started
really slamming in and out of me - I could feel his wiry pubic hair
crashing into my own shaved ass as he did so. His own cries, and my
moans, became louder, until he suddenly collapsed on top of me.

I realised he must have cum deep inside me, but contrary to what I
had read in the occasional story I had read, I didn't feel it - there
was no sensation of his cum spurting inside me, just an incredible
feeling of pleasure and warmth as his sweating body lay on top of my
own.

He lay like that for a few minutes - I had lost all track of time -
then pulled out and rolled over to lie beside me. My master, who had
been watching all this time, now said to me

"Lean over and clean up master Ethan, slave."

I now saw how wise it had been to have me flushed out completely -
master Ethan's cock, still quite rigid, was covered in his cum and in
the juices from my ass. But it wasn't totally revolting, and I
leaned down and licked gently at it to clean him. He evidently wasn't
as sensitive as me (like most Americans he had been circumcised), as
I could lick and suck at his cock so soon after cumming without any
apparent discomfort on his part.

When I had finished, my master and he rolled over and started to
embrace and caress each other, and my master snapped at me

"Go back to the gym now, slave!"

I left, and the guards took me back down - I could feel Ethan's cum
and my own cum used as a lube starting to trickle out of my ass as we
did, and slick the inside of my thighs. I could tell from the way
that the guards were looking at me that they had seen it, too, and
knew what had happened to me.

End Of Part 12


MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 13

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups


RENEWING ACQUAINTANCES

The next day I was exercising away as usual when Mike came in for a
morning workout - but, to my surprise, because he had not even
mentioned him during his other sessions, he was accompanied by Kev.

Kev bounded over to me and shook me warmly by the hand, then started
to run his hands over the top part of my body, telling me how much I
had come on since I had last seen him. When he had lightly fingered
my stomach, he went to move on down and grope my cock and balls
through the thin shorts I was wearing, but Mike came over and sternly
told him to stop.

"And don't be so familiar with the slave, Kev", he
commanded, "Because that's what he is. You are not to shake his
hand, as that's a greeting reserved for free men. It's OK to feel
his body as you were, and normally you could of course go on to
inspect a slave's tackle if you wanted, but you know my prohibition:
no real sex until you have done all the things I have told you you
have to achieve. And I think that going to feel the slave's cock as
you were is just the prelude to sex!"

Kev had obviously wanted to talk to me, but faced with Mike's
admonitions, he turned away and started to strip off his clothes.

"I don't want this boy exercised too much", Mike said to me as he too
started to strip, "As part of his charm is his laddish figure. But
he does like to swim, and so as a treat I've bought him here to use
the pool. I don't mind him swimming for as long as he wants, as that
develops nice lean muscles - I don't want him to turn into one of
those big muscle gods, but a bit more definition wouldn't hurt."

Kev and Mike were both now naked, and the contrast between them was
extreme - Mike was his usual magnificent self, bronzed all over from
his love of exercising and swimming totally naked, whereas Kev was
still recognisably still a "young lad", and this was emphasised by
his very white skin and shock of bright red hair at his pubes.

"Race you!", said Mike, and ran off towards the pool, followed by
Kev. I looked with envy at them as their trim bodies bounded across
the area, cocks flying, without a care in the world, and they dived
into the bright blue water and started to race up and down.

They did ten lengths, and I would have loved to join them - but Mike
had firmly put me in my place as "only a slave", and I knew from past
experience that slaves were not allowed to join in activities like
that without being specifically told to.

The two men then hauled themselves out, and sat for a moment on the
edge of the pool with their feet still dangling in the water. Kev
then hauled himself out totally, and went to lie on the pool
surround, throwing himself full-length face down, and cradling his
head in his folded arms. He looked completely relaxed and totally at
ease with himself and his surroundings.

Mike came over to me and commanded me to fetch oil and sun block,
then went and knelt by the lad and started to massage the sun block
and the oil into his naked body using long, sensuous strokes to
spread the mixture evenly from his shoulders, down his back, across
his ass, and down his thighs and back of his legs. After he had been
massaging away for a few minutes, he then said

"OK, Kev, turn over!"

And the lad obediently obeyed. Mike re-oiled his hands, and started
to repeat the process over Kev's front. I felt my own erection
straining at my tiny shorts as Mike's big brown hands lingered over
Kev's nipples, then moved on down to stroke the oil into his cock.

Kev, not unnaturally, came erect as Mike massaged the oil into the
lad's cock, and when Mike went to move on, he grasped at Mike's hand
and moved it back to massage him again there.

"Stop that, Kev!", Mike said, but in a playful tone, "This isn't the
time or place for me to jerk you off! Let me get on with putting
this sun block all over you, properly, else with that very fair skin
of yours you'll soon roast. I don't want some horrible red-skinned,
freckled thing in bed with me - your pale white skin is one of your
best assets, and we need to keep it that way!"

Mike then lay down beside Kev, on his back, and spread his superb
arms out. Without hesitation Kev moved a little closer, and shuffled
his body down a bit so that he could rest his head on Mike's biceps.
I felt so envious of them lying there - the lad, and his "protector",
just enjoying the intimacy and warmth of each other's company in this
totally relaxed way.

After about 20 minutes, Mike got up and went into the gym for his own
regular programme of gruelling exercise, leaving Kev lying by the
side of the pool. He seemed to be asleep, but when I moved, his eyes
opened and he said

"Never mind what Mike says, Steve, it's good to see you again. And
it's really good to know that you've obviously completely recovered.
You're looking fantastic! If I was allowed to, I'd fuck you straight
away - you're so desirable!"

I just smiled at the thought of this boy being so unashamed of his
sexuality that he could talk so openly about fucking a real man like
me, and I think Kev thought this was an encouragement as he went on

"Come on, Steve! I'm not allowed to fuck you, but get those shorts
off so I can see your lovely cock again. They're not hiding much,
after all, and I can see that you're really glad to see me...."

My erection was of course straining at the front of the shorts, and
faced wit h a direct order from a master, albeit a young one, what
could I do? I unbuttoned the top of the shorts, and let them drop to
the ground. My cock sprang upwards to it's erect horizontal
position, and I just stood there looking at him.

Kev reached out and ran his oiled hands lightly up and down the shaft
of my cock, and I thought I was going to cum there and then, but I
think he heard Mike coming back so he quickly withdrew and instead
said

"Come and race me - I need a pace maker if I'm to do all the exercise
I should!"

With a sinuous movement he got up off the ground, and executed a
perfect dive into the pool. I didn't need any more encouragement,
and dived in after him. We raced up and down for 20 lengths, and it
actually was hard for me - although I was much bigger than Kev, and
much stronger, that's not necessarily what counts in swimming as I
had a lot more body to drag through the water.

We were both exhausted at the end, and just stood there in the
shallow end, letting the water mostly float our bodies whilst our
arms were spread along the edge. Kev was just reaching over to
start to feel my cock again, when Mike appeared and curtly told us
both to get out of the water.

"I've told you, Kev, that you are not to play sexually with the
slaves!", he snapped, "And you, slave, heard me say that you were not
to be interfered with. I ought to have you whipped for disobeying my
orders like that - had I not come back, I think you would have
allowed the boy to actually jerk you off!"

He was going to say something else, when, at that moment, my master
came in for his regular exercise and looked a little surprised to see
the three of us, all totally naked, standing there.

"Well, doctor, problems?" He asked

"No, sir. It's just that the boy here is rather precocious and I
caught him starting to play with the slave, in spite of my specific
prohibition against it."

"Well, he is of course a prime slave and I can understand why anyone
would want to play with his body. But surely your boy is fully
mature - there's no harm in him indulging himself, is there?"

"No, sir. No physical problem at all. As you can see" - he pointed
at Kev's cock, which was now fully erect and straining upwards to
ward his belly - "He's always ready for sex. But I have forbidden
him anything other than the pleasures of his own hand until he
completes a programme of study and exercise that I have specified for
him."

"Well, doctor, it would be a pity to have the young lad
frustrated!". Turning to Kev, he continued, "The doctor allows you
the pleasures of your own hand, so let me see you perform! Jerk off
for me."

Without hesitation, Kev reached down and started to stroke the shaft
of his erect cock, and It only took a couple of strokes before we
could see the sheen of pre-cum starting to coat his cock head, thumb
and forefinger as he stood there - the water had long since
evaporated from his body, and the oil coating had of course been
washed off in the pool.

Then with a series of satisfying grunts from his throat, Kev shot and
a small fountain of cum sprayed across the tiled surround of the
pool. He stopped stroking himself, and stood there grinning,
obviously pleased with his performance.

"Excellent, young man", my master said. Then, turning to Mike,
continued:

"You must be very proud of your nephew, doctor. Is he staying here
for long."

"Well, actually, sir, he's not my nephew. Technically, he's a
slave. He was an orphan who I decided to look after, and, as you
know, it's not really acceptable here for an older man to live with
an unrelated young man. So I had him enslaved, as a master can have
as many young slave around him as he wants."

"So, he's a slave! Have you fully experienced him?"

"No, sir. He's sill a virgin, as I think of him as my son rather
than as my slave. I have forbidden him to have real sex until, as I
say, he has performed all his studies and so on properly."

"Well, even if he were your son, you could have fucked him - my own
father did me, and the father-son bond that then grows is something
that I have treasured all my life. But, if he's a slave, even if
only technically, I'll buy him from you. Name your price."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but he's not for sale. As I said, he's more like a
son to me than a slave, and I couldn't sell my own son."

"Nonsense, doctor. I think you're merely haggling over the price.
Sell him to me, and buy yourself another 'son'. I particularly like
his red hair and white skin, and it would amuse me to have him in my
bed. Then I think he would add a little excitement to my troupe of
general sex slaves I keep for visitors - I think there's a fair
number of men here who would like a nice fresh young body like that,
with that youthful slightness still so much in evidence. And I
particularly like the bright red hair and milky white skin - a really
nice contrast."

"No, sir. I'm sorry. He's not for sale, at any price. He's only
technically a slave, and I intend to free him when he's 20."

"Doctor, you try my patience. I am not used to being thwarted. I
suggest you take yourself and your slave out of here, whilst you
still can."

Mike said nothing, but gesturing to Kev to follow him he turned and
went quickly into the changing area ad both quickly pulled on their
clothes and left.

My master was extremely annoyed, and as he exercised I could tell
that he was hatching a plan. As I washed him in the shower
afterwards, I could hear him muttering to himself.

"Dares to defy me.... Who does he think he is? If that boy is a
slave, I will have him. No power to force a sale... Except....
Except that a slave cannot own a slave. So I will have the doctor
before my courts on some charge, have him sentenced to enslavement,
and then all this possessions - including the boy slave - will
automatically become mine as part of the enslavement."

After he had gone, I sat and thought about what I had heard. What
could I do? I didn't want to see Mike and Kev as slaves like me.
But if I tried to warn Mike, I felt certain my master would find out -
I had long suspected that the whole of the gym and pool areas were
comprehensively bugged, so that my master could keep tabs on his
guests. My master's fury with me at such a "betrayal" would almost
certainly result in my death.

The following day Mike appeared to exercise, but without Kev - he'd
obviously decided that he didn't want to risk showing the lad to my
master again.

"You're looking glum today, slave", he said cheerily. "Where's that
smiling Steve I'm used to seeing?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking about the future", I said. "I've come to
realise that I'm a slave, and I'm not going to get back to my old
life, ever. I think it was seeing young Kev yesterday - he's at the
start of his life. I hope it holds more for him that mine ha turned
out to have for me."

"Don't you worry about Kev", Mike replied. "I'm going to see he has
the best possible education. And he'll be fully fluent in English
and Arabic, and there aren't many non-Arabs who are like that. He'll
always be able to get a good job."

"But I thought you said he was a slave?"

"Well, only technically. I will give him his freedom as soon as he's
properly mature and can take care of himself."

"And what about you Mike? Will you ever go back to England? Had you
eve thought of returning?"

"No..... The life here is too good. Why should I want to go back to
London?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that you might be tired of life here. You
might want to go back to your roots. Don't you even need to go back
for a holiday, to do a refresher course at a hospital, or anything?
I'm sure Kev would like to see London..."

I could see Mike looking at me curiously, as I'd never had this type
of conversation with him before.

"I'd have thought that this was almost the ideal time for a trip to
London", I continued. "It's the summer here, and so amazingly hot.
You could take Kev to keep you company..."

Mike looked at me again, curiously, and I pressed on

"Didn't I hear the slave trader Ras tell you that there was a dearth
of good-looking white slaves, like you, at he moment? And that he
was having to take steps to try and increase the supply! So if you
do go to London, be careful not to be out alone at night in case
Ras's enslavers get you and bring you back unexpectedly."

I think Mike had got the idea, because he turned and started to pull
his skimpy clothes on again, without exercising.

As he left, instead of his usual "See you!", I thought it was
significant that he instead said "Goodbye, slave. I don't know when
I'll be in next."

SOLD AGAIN?

The following day both Ethan and my master came to the gym, and my
master was obviously agitated as he was telling Ethan how the doctor
had caught a plane to London the previous evening, together with Kev.

"The fools or my border police let him slip through their fingers",
he was complaining. "I didn't think to put a prohibition on his
travel, as I assumed the border police would have enough sense to
check with the palace if any of he foreigners known to be associated
with me were travelling. But they didn't. I suspect that wily
doctor actually paid out a lot in bribes, to make sure they got on
the aircraft. But I'll have my revenge - I may have lost the
doctor, and that utterly delicious young redhead, but a number of the
border police are being questioned under torture, and if I find any
evidence at all of bribery, they will of course all be enslaved."

Ethan was looking at me with interest as this conversation was going
on, then simply turned and said "Strip!"

I shrugged off my shorts, and watched as his eyes roamed up and down
my body taking in the sight.

"Can I fuck the slave?", he asked my master.

"Of course, friend Ethan! As we say, my house is your house. And
there's no need to ask for things like that - you can do anything you
like with my slaves. Do you just want to fuck him, or would you like
to take one of the more exotic pleasures with him.... When I had him
flogged a few weeks ago, his screams were most satisfying and it
might amuse you to hear some of that if we put him through a few
little tortures..."

I had broken out in a sweat, at the casual way in which my master was
considering having me tortured just for the pleasure of he and his
friend. This was really what slavery was all about - my body was
nothing more than something that could be used in whatever way he
thought fit that would cause him amusement.

"No, friend", Ethan said. "I've lusted at the thought of a marine
like that for so long, that I don't want the flesh spoiled yet. Jut
being able to fuck him whenever, and however , I want will be more
than sufficient for the time being. But I'll bear your kind offer in
mind, and when the routine pleasures fade, I'll think of moving on to
something more exotic!"

Looking at me, Ethan snapped "Hands and knees! Then reach back and
pull your ass cheeks apart."

I did as I was told, of course, and the next moment I felt the tip of
his cock pushing at my asshole. I realised that this was going to be
brutal - there was no attempt to lube me as there had been last time,
not even a slick of spit. Without wasting any time, he thrust
brutally into me, and I almost screamed as the flange of his cock
head pushed in. Fortunately, although his cock was long, it was also
thin - and so it was not as bad as perhaps it might have been. And
after the first few thrusts, his cock was anyway coated with my ass
juices and so it got a lot easier.

What was particularly humiliating was not the actual fucking itself,
although that was bad enough, as I was just being taken like an
animal, on my hands and knees, entirely without any agreement on my
part: the real humiliation was having my master watch his friend do
this to me, as if it was some exotic entertainment for him. Ethan
didn't seem to mind being watched, however, so perhaps he was used to
fucking slaves in front of my master.

Mercifully it was soon over, and my master and Ethan went on for a
brief period of exercise as if nothing had happened.

After their shower, they were relaxing, naked, by the side of the
pool prior to dressing, and I heard Ethan say

"That marine excites me so much. Can I trade on your good offices,
old friend, and buy him from you?"

"No, friend Ethan. I have a firm policy of not selling slaves once I
have bought them. You are of course welcome to use him as often as
you like. And, if you wish, I will lend him to you for an extended
period - you can take him to your quarters with you and keep him
there. But his ownership remains with me, and when you tire of him,
I will have him back."

"No, I actually want to own the slave. I have had enormous pleasure
from actually fucking a marine - being in the diplomatic corps for so
many years, I've had to constantly look at those young, fit virile
men strutting up and down as they guard the buildings I've been
working in, and I've long wanted to humiliate one of them by fucking
him against his will. Even when I've made overture to them to just
spend an evening with me, I have always been rebuffed: those proud
marines are so intent on preening their own bodies that they forget
that there are men like me who are prepared to pay for the pleasure
of experiencing them. At my last positing, one of them, a
particularly delicious 22-year old, actually called me a dirty
faggot! So now I have managed to manoeuvre a posting to this country
when you have such a relaxed attitude to powerful men taking the
bodies of other men, as they deserve, I am determined to actually own
a marine of my own. Of course it's good to be able to fuck this one,
and I expect that in his former life he used to strut around
flaunting his body and turning down men who wanted to get pleasure
from it. But it doesn't compare to the additional pleasure of
actually owning one myself."

"As you will, friend Ethan. I can understand how frustrating it must
be for a man like you of intelligence, power and influence not to be
able to take your pleasure with other men as you choose. We do
indeed have it better arranged here, where I can buy good looking
bodies for my pleasure. I suggest you go to the slave dealer Ras -
he's one of the more adventurous ones, and usually has a selection of
newly-enslaved Western men. Even if he doesn't have a marine, at a
price he can get you one - specify what you want, and he'll
commission the enslavers to get it for you. There' no shortage of
marines, after all, and so many of them do foolish things: I've
heard that in places like San Diego, with large bases, it's really
easy to grab a few bodies on any Saturday night when the men are
fuddled with drink."

A NEW FRIEND

To my astonishment, when my master and his friend Ethan arrived at
the gym complex he following day, they were accompanied by a slave.
He looked very much like me - same general height and musculature,
and he had a very short crop of dark black hair on his head. But
other than that, he was completely naked - he had been shaved all
over - chest, arms, legs, ass, pubes, everything. He hadn't even been
allowed the dignity of keeping a tiny patch of pubic hair above his
cock - we was as smooth and naked as the day he was born.

As he stood there looking around him, I saw something that made my
heart leap - on his left bicep, I could clearly see a big "USMC"
tattoo.

"So", my master was saying, "You took my advice, and went to see Ras."

"Yes, and by an extraordinary stroke of good luck, he had this superb
specimen in stock! Fresh in that morning, and he hadn't had time to
circulate his details to all the usual buyers. He's newly captured -
he's not actually a marine, as he is recently discharged after
serving his term. They found him hitching around the States
somewhere, and so the enslavers simply took him. It's not so
unusual, apparently, as many of these young men do their time in the
marines when they are properly trained and disciplined, then when
they leave their lives just fall apart. They go on a sort of
extended holiday, until their money starts to run out, and they lose
contact with their old buddies. A lot of them have no close
families. So they're ripe for the plucking, so to speak - Ras tells
me he gets at least a hundred or so every year who the enslavers have
just picked up from the sides of the Interstates.

"Have you fucked him, friend Ethan?"

"Yes! It was delightful. He truly was a virgin, and kept screaming
that he was a straight, and wasn't gong to have any fag cock up his
ass! The slaves in the slave centre really had to fight to get him
strapped down so that I could take him for the first time. He tried
to buck and squirm, but of course there was no escaping the
inevitable for him, and after he had finished screaming and cursing
at me, it as unbelievable: he burst into tears after it was all
over."

"I told the centre to keep him overnight for me, and to ensure he was
used by at least five more slaves. After I had taken his virginity
and he knew it was my cock that had been up his ass for the first
time, I wanted to ensure that he understood that his ass was at my
disposal - if I choose to have it stuffed with a succession of cocks,
then that is his fate. That's also why I have had him totally shaved
like this - stripping away a man's body hair again reminds him that
he is no longer a free agent, just a piece of property. And I am
making him walk around totally naked for a few days, so that he loses
any feeling that his body is his own to command."

"Shall I get your gym slave to fuck him for our amusement?", he
continued.

"An amusing idea, friend Ethan, but I'm afraid I have little time
today. Just let's get on with our exercises now, and we'll return to
the consideration of your new slave later."

The new slave and I just stood there ,eyeing each other, as my master
and Ethan went through their programme of exercises. After they had
showered, Ethan asked my master if he could leave his new slave in
the gym with me that day - he explained that he was off to a meeting
where it would be inappropriate for a slave to accompany him, and
that "anyway the lazy fellow needs a good exercise - I don't think
he's been putting the time in since he left the marines!"

So there we were, alone together. I had my tiny shorts on, but the
new guy was totally bare-assed naked and, as I have said,
humiliatingly totally shaved except for the stubble of hair on his
head.

"So, hi, I'm Steve", I said as the two masters left - I was of course
not permitted to talk before then.

"Hi, Steve - Jay". The guy reached out and we shook hands - it was
one of the few free, manly gestures left to us.

"So - this slavery shit - are you one too?", he asked.

"Yes. Captured in the USA, and sold - just like you, I'm told."

"Yes - I was hitching across Tennessee, and got a lift from a guy in
a big rig - we talked for a few hours, and then he suggested I might
like to lie down in his bunk at the back of the cab. I hadn't had a
good night's sleep for some days, so I went to lie down. When I woke
up, I found the bastard had tied me to the bunk when I was asleep
and when I started to shout he stuffed a gag in my mouth. I had to
lie there until we stopped at a truck stop somewhere and four guys
came in, untied me, then dragged me away into the trunk of their
car.... Well, to cut a long story short, I was flown here, stripped,
and then sold."

"They treated me just like a fucking animal", he continued. "They put
me in a cell, totally naked, in a row of cells each with a naked guy
in it, and for a couple of days all these other guys walked up and
down looking in through the bars at us. Then we were all taken one
day, buck naked (although I was getting used to it by now), and a guy
used one of those magic markers to draw a big number on my ass. We
were driven along a corridor and into an arena - more guards with
whips and sort of cattle prod things that really hurt if they touched
you made all of us - there were about 30 nude men all together - run
around and around in this arena whilst the audience watched us. They
had all been to look at us standing in our cells, but the idea of
this was to show us off to potential buyers 'in action'."

"Then came the auction - and this was the worst of all. We were
herded together, all of us panting and sweating because, man, had we
had to run! It was really the first time that I had been that close
to other guys - you know how it is in the service - you see all your
buddies naked all the time, but you never really touch them. But
waiting for this auction, we were so close together you just couldn't
help your dick touching another guy's ass, or your chest pushing into
his back. We were made to go up, one by one, onto a stage and there
was an auctioneer there gabbling away whilst the audience bid for
me! I've been to cattle auctions down in Texas, and it was just like
this - the prize steer is there, the buyers are all looking, and the
auctioneer takes bids. It was bad enough being naked in front of all
these buyers like that, but one of them called something out to the
auctioneer and he stopped the auction for a few minutes whilst a
young guy came up and tried to jerk me off! I would have hit him,
but there guards were all around with those cattle prods, and I just
had to stand there whilst he got me hard - but that's all they wanted
to see, apparently - what my dick looked like when it's erect. Man,
I was blushing, all over, I can tell you!"

"After that, I had this number tattooed onto the sole of my foot, and
then they shaved me - all over, except for my head - as you can see.
I was then taken out onto a loading bay, and put into a delivery
truck - that's all I can call it - a plain white truck with little
cages inside, and me and about ten others were just driven around and
unloaded, one by one."

"How about you?"

"Much the same, Jay - I was captured after accepting a lift, shipped,
and sold, although I was not auctioned as apparently my master who
now owns me had specified that he wanted a slave with just my looks,
and so the enslavers went out and just looked round until they saw
me! I was a contract enslavement, they call it."

"Steve.... I don't know how to ask you this.... But something
happened to me when I was delivered to that bastard Ethan....
Something that shouldn't happen to a guy.... I don't know how to tell
you, but I want someone to know so that, one day, the bastard can be
punished..."

"Let me guess, Jay- he fucked you!"

"How did you know?"

"Because that's what happens to all good-looking studs like us.
We're here to pleasure our masters in any way they want - in my case,
my master needed a workout buddy, and he wanted someone easy on the
eye, so he sent out an order to enslave the sort of guy he was
looking for, and that was me. But none of the masters here just want
that - part of the whole slavery thing is not just that we're no
longer free men and have to work at what we're told, or that they
keep us naked, or nearly naked, but that they can use us sexually
however and when ever they want!"

"So has your master fucked you, Steve? "

"Yes. I almost said 'of course', because as far a s I can tell, all
the good looking men get fucked. And your master, Ethan, has fucked
me - and that's probably why he bought you. He and my master are old
friends, and my master told Ethan about how he had this fabulous
marine as a plaything. So Ethan first of all said he wanted to try
me out, which of course my master agreed to, and then when my master
wouldn't sell me to Ethan, Ethan went out and bought himself a
marine."

"So they buy and sell us just like animals?"

"Yes, Jay - and you'd better get used to it. I don't suppose Ethan
will keep you much longer than my master will keep me: they're just
like two guys back home in a contest to see who has the newest car,
or the fanciest stereo. Here it's who's got the most handsome slave,
with the best body, and most fuckable ass?"

"You mean he'll fuck me again?"

"Yes, of course. And I expect he'll lend you to my master, as my
master lent me to Ethan, for a comparison. And I expect they'll make
you and me fuck each other, whilst they watch - it's a popular
entertainment after dinner, instead of having to watch TV."

"Christ, Steve - I can't fuck a guy: I'm straight."

"Look, Jay, did you ever think you'd have another guy's cock rammed
up your ass?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, then, there you are. I heard Ethan say he fucked you, and
that he ordered another five slaves to do the same - did they?"

Jay almost looked as if he was going to cry, he was so ashamed and
embarrassed, so I said "There's nothing to be ashamed off, you know,
it's the lot of slaves to be used sexually. It will probably be
easier if you tell me about it.... As a straight guy myself, I hated
it when a cock pushed into me the first time, but now I'm used to it,
it actually isn't all that bad. It hurt like hell the first time of
course, but that gets easier..."

"Steve, I don't know how to say this, but that's what worries me -
sure, even with that spaghetti dick of his, Ethan hurt me like hell
the first time he went up me. But the other slaves later on probably
knew the position I was in, so they were gentle. They knew they'd
had to fuck me, but they used plenty of lube (my ass hole was anyway
leaking Ethan's cum out of it) and went nice and slowly. I actually
found myself enjoying it - the sensation as their cock slipped in and
out, and the warmth of the other guy's body against mine as I lay
there. Look, as I said, I'm straight, always have been.... But I
started to enjoy having another guy fuck me...."

"Me too, Jay. Don't worry about it! I was completely straight, but
after I had been fucked, I realised that I might have been missing
something all these years. And I started to really want a guy I'd
met - I actually wanted him to fuck me! When I think of all the
really good buddies during my years in the service that I really
liked, perhaps I was missing something: we could have been so much
closer . It's one thing to spend all your time with your marine
buddies, sleep in the barracks with them, exercise with them, shower
with them, and sometimes even jerk off to porno movies with them, but
how much better it would have been if after a really brutal day's
training, you could have completely relaxed just enjoying the feel of
their body beside yours in your bunk.... I guess there's no such
thing as a straight guy, really, just a lot of men who have not yet
experienced the pleasure of sex with another guy. Sure, I'd still go
with a lady if one was available, but, actually, there's something
better about going with a guy: the feel of their bodies is better,
and you knew just what to do to really make them feel good, as it's
the same things that make you feel good yourself."

"Look", I continued, "Before we start that exercise programme your
master ordered, why don't we just relax a bit? You look all tense,
and it's not a good idea to start pushing the muscles in that
state."

I dropped my shorts, put my arm around Jay's shoulder, and led him
off to the Jacuzzi. We sat companionably, side by side in the warm
water as the bubbles burst all around us. Our system is on a timer,
so it's like three minutes of bubbles, followed by a couple of
minutes of calm, followed by the bubbles again, and in the
first 'calm' period I saw that Jay, like me, was sporting a huge hard
on under the water.

I mover a little closer to him so that our thighs were touching, and
put my arm around his shoulder, encouraging him to do the same to me,
so that our upper bodies were touching. Then I reached down with my
other hand and grabbed hold of his cock. The effect on him was
electric - I felt his whole body stiffen, and I though he was going
to say something, but as I gently massaged it with my fingers,
occasionally reaching down to fondle his balls, he really relaxed and
he turned his head towards me and I saw he was smiling.

I continued to fondle him, and, to my surprise, I then felt his hand
gently touch my erect cock and start to do the same thing. Our heads
were so close together and we were both smiling so much that it
seemed only natural to kiss him, first with just our lips touching,
then, when it was so obviously pleasurable to both of us, we went all
the way and our tongues were soon lashing each others, probing deep
into our mouths.

In a frenzy, we climbed out of the Jacuzzi, and continued kissing
deeply as we hugged each other, out rampant cocks pressing against
each other and stabbing at each other's balls as we pushed our bodies
together.

I can't remember who fucked who first - we just moved on from kissing
and fondling to pressing our cocks against each other's asses, and,
after that, it's such a small step to actually push them in and go
all the way.

Up until now, I guess I could say that I had been fucked - by my
master, Mike, and Ethan. But I now realised what it could be like
when two big, virile men each used each other gently and
sympathetically. It was the most incredible experience of my life so
far.

End Of Part 13



MY LIFE AS A SLAVE. PART 14

By Pete Brown. Petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all Pete Brown's stories in group petebrownseroticstories on
Yahoo! Groups


CAN LIFE BE BETTER?


A new pattern to our lives soon established itself - Ethan and his
slave Jay would arrive with my master in the late afternoon, and all
four of us would exercise in the luxurious gym. Sometimes my master
and Ethan just used to lie and watch Jay and me, and we revelled in
competing with each other to do the most hard work, so that our
bodies were displayed to their best advantage. It's really great
when there's that air of friendly rivalry between true buddies, and
those hard exercise sessions were some of the most enjoyable times I
have ever spent. Jay and I were perfectly at ease exercising
totally naked, and it was good to see how two big studs like us could
be so uninhibited in our workouts - so much better than needing to
wear tight shorts and singlets in the gym.

After our workouts, Ethan and my master retired elsewhere in the
complex to spend the evening together, leaving Jay and me alone. We
took full advantage of our time together by kissing, caressing and
fucking: this is what being a man is all about, I now knew, and I
knew Jay thought the same. We realised that all those years in the
marines we'd had good buddies but we'd never got close to them like
this - what a series of wasted opportunities! In the marines we used
to brag about being straight, and laughing at queers we saw in the
streets, but we now saw how completely wrong this had been. If only
we had had the courage to really get to know our best buddies as
intimately as Jay and I now knew each other, we would have been so
much happier. Our lives in the service would have been truly
fulfilling.

Other than my master, Ethan and Jay, the only other time I now saw
anyone else was on my weekly trip to the breeding farm. Once a week
a guard came for me and led me out of the gym complex through the
corridors of the complex and out on to the loading bay. Although I
was wearing my tiny exercise shorts, men passing us still turned to
look at me as I went by - I now was really in the peak of my
condition, and my body was a superb muscled machine that anyone would
envy.

A small white truck was waiting, and I was caged in a tiny cell-like
structure inside it. We stopped a couple of times on the way each
week, and two other slaves were loaded into other cells in the van.
We were then driven off on a journey that always seemed to take about
the same time - jut under an hour - until we arrived at the breeding
farm.

The three of us (we were always together) were unloaded and made to
stand there in a courtyard, totally naked, until a guard came out to
lead us into the milking room. When my Master had first told me that
I was going to be part of the programme he had in place to breed a
new generation of slaves I had been quite excited - although I really
relished sex with men now, I still remembered what it used to be like
when I had been fucking women, and I was interested in doing it
again to see if it really was like I remembered it.

When I had had my first fuck with a woman, I had thought how
fantastic it as and I was always trying and manoeuvring to fuck more
women. And in the marines, of course, this had been the pattern of
my life - at weekends, and on leave, the idea was that you tried to
pick up a woman and fuck her to "prove" how virile you were. But now
I had experienced real sex, with other men, I had realised how stupid
I had been all that time to be chasing after women when my buddies
had been so much more available and accessible, and they would have
been so much more enjoyable. Never the less, when the thought of
fucking a woman had come up again, I had been interested to see if my
memories were correct, and if the sensation would be a poor second to
the enormous pleasure I was now experiencing, particularly with Jay.

I was very disappointed on that first trip to the breeding farm,
therefore, to find that I never even got to see any of the women who
were the breeders of the next generation of slaves - the only reason
for taking us studs there was so that our sperm would be as fresh as
possible when it was "milked" from us! I now knew, therefore, that
the three of us would be sat in what was very similar to a dentist's
chair, padded with leather and with a very high back, our feet would
be put into stirrups that came down from the arms and which were then
raised up and apart so that our cocks were totally exposed. A
technician - because that's the only word I can use to describe him -
a scientist type, with a short white coat, then sat between my
outstretched legs and with latex-gloved hands lifted my cock onto a
small table that was wheeled in.

They used an electric masturbator - a tube with seals at each end
that was slid over my cock- and which then pulsed rapidly to bring me
to a climax. My semen sprayed into the end of the tube, which, as
soon as the technician as satisfied that there was no more left
inside me, was slid off my detumescing cock and taken off to be
injected up into the breeding slaves with the minimum of delay. They
told me that a good load of semen like mine would easily "cover" 20
breeders at a time, and how much more efficient this therefore was
than having me fuck them!

I can't tell you how degraded I felt the first time this happened to
me - I was just being used as an animal to produce high-grade semen
for my master. I never even got to see any of the women it was
inseminating, and they of course never told me whether there were any
resulting pregnancies or whether I had fathered any children.

In the transport van I got to talk to the two other slaves who, like
me, were being used in the programme by their masters because of
their superior physiques. One of them as a "captured" slave, like
me, and he had had the same sort of problems that I had had
initially - the feeling of embarrassment and shame at being made to
appear naked, the utter humiliation of being "sold" like an animal,
and he initial feeling of revulsion at having to be used for sex when
I thought of myself as "straight". The second guy had however been a
slave as long as he could remember, and he had none of these
problems - he thought it was perfectly OK for his master to keep him
however he wanted, and to treat him as an object. He had no concept
of actually being "free" and of ever being able to do some of the
things that I used to take for granted - but I think he was actually
the happiest of us all!

THE AMERICAN AMBASSADOR FUCKS UP MY LIFE AGAIN

I suppose I could have been quite content going on for ever as I now
was - my master was not cruel to me, I had a good life and enjoyed
keeping myself in first-class shape, and I had the love and
companionship of Jay for several hours every day.

My nice cosy little world was however torn apart when Ethan arrived
with my master for their daily work out without Jay! I wasted to ask
where he was, but knew of course that my master would think that was
not the behaviour of a slave and would punish me when Ethan had left.
So I just had to bite my tongue and wait impatiently to see if
anything was said.

When they were taking a break and were sitting side by side, I heard
Ethan say to my master

"The ambassador is a read arsehole! He's supposed to be a trained
career diplomat, but he has no concept of understanding and
respecting the way of life o the country in which we live. Yesterday
he published this new rule that said that because slavery was illegal
in the USA, it was inappropriate for members of the embassy staff to
be connected in any way whatsoever with the ownership of slaves!"

"There was uproar, of course, as most of the senior staff like me are
only here because we can keep a nice clutch of slaves for our
pleasure. And even the detachment of marines guarding the place have
found how convenient it can be to collectively own a few young men
who can 'bull' their uniforms and so on (as well as providing a bit
of pleasure in the long evenings). So he had to back down, and
change the order so that it said that it was inappropriate to keep
slaves on US Government property - i.e. in the embassy, its compound,
and the residences that stand in the ground - including, of course,
mine!"

"The new ruling means that I can still trade and own slaves, but I
can't have them here with me. So that delicious hunk of man flesh
that we have been exercising with has had to be sent to that estate
you persuaded me to buy out in the country"

Ah, so now I knew what had happened to Jay! But that probably meant
I would never see him again - it didn't matter where this country
estate was, I was never allowed to leave my master's exercise complex
and so the change of us ever meeting again was remote. My heart
sank, and I felt so sad and depressed - I had come to truly love Jay,
not only because I revelled in the sensation of his body against
mine, but because of the common background we shared that gave us so
many things in common to discuss and to laugh about. He was my first
real love, the love of my life, and now this arsehole of an
Ambassador had torn us apart. Why the fuck did he need to interfere
in our lives in this way? Why couldn't he just leave well alone!
Did he really think that his stupid new rules would really make
things any better for the slaves here - in fact, he'd only succeeded
in making them far, far worse!


DEPRESSION

The light seemed to have gone out of my life. It was all routine and
humdrum. I had nothing to look forward to now, only the endless
stupid exercising of my master. I just went through every day as if
it was a dream.

My master of course noticed my change in mood, and several times
warned me about being surly and stand-offish - he liked his slaves to
really participate with him in his exercises, and to be seen to be
enjoying themselves. He wanted me not only to work out with him, but
to do so enthusiastically. But there was just no way that I could
snap out of the black mood that had overtaken me - I just couldn't
revert to my old happy-go-lucky self.

I heard my master discussing me with Ethan one night, and Ethan told
my master that sometimes the only way to get a slave to snap out of a
surly state was to whip him - "Give him something else to occupy his
mind", Ethan counselled.

My master was at first reluctant, because he knew that the first time
I had been whipped how terrible the consequences had been. Ethan
however persisted, saying that my master didn't have to be quite so
extreme this time - perhaps just a few lashes might cause me to
remember who I was, and how I needed to serve my master properly and
joyfully! My master's reluctance continued, as he pointed out to
Ethan that the skin on my back was particularly sensitive following
my cruel whipping almost to death - even a few light lashes might
open up old wounds, and cause irreparable damage and lower my value.

Ethan listened attentively, then said "Very well then, let's try
something a little different!"

"Slave - go and bend over the vaulting horse."

I did as I was told, and felt the smooth leather of the padded top
press into my belly and chest.

"No, idiot!", Ethan snapped, "Drop those stupid exercise shorts
first. Your ass needs to be exposed."

So I reached back and pushed my shorts down, feeling them fall along
my thighs and legs to drop on to the floor."

A moment later my world exploded into pain. I guess I'd seen stories
of canings of naked asses before, and in my time on the marines I'd
even hired a few porno movies where women shrieked and moaned as a
guy gave them little taps on their backsides with a light cane. But
this was nothing like that - Ethan was using a long, thin cane and
was wielding it with all the power and force his muscled body could
muster.

The sheer shock of the first blow had caused me to shout out as he
struck, but as he continued to cane me I thought that I could take it
silently, like a man: how wrong I was. Whilst each blow was no more
painful than the first, the cumulative effect was far, far worse. He
only gave me six strokes across my naked ass, but my whole backside
was so hot, throbbing sea of pain by the time he had finished, and I
was left there still lying on the padded leather whimpering quietly
as I tried to get my body back under control.

"I think that should teach him a lesson", Ethan was saying to my
master. "As you will see, unlike the whipping on his back we were
talking about that would almost certainly have broken the skin again,
these cane strokes did not actually cause any bleeding. You can see
them quite clearly across his ass, and if you run your fingers over
the flesh" (he did this as he was talking) "you can feel the skin has
been raised. But that will disappear within a couple of days. But
I'm certain the memory of it won't."

"What's so satisfactory about a caning", he went on, "Is that as well
as the actual pain itself there's a lot of psychological humiliation
in having the slave expose his ass in this way to be caned. It
reminds a lot of men of humiliating experiences with their fathers as
children. I'm certain he won't forget this beating, and tomorrow
you'll find him co-operative once again."

Well, actually, much as I dreaded another caning, there was still no
way of lifting my mood of depression and despair following the loss
of Jay. Ethan was always nagging at my master about how surly I was,
and suggesting that I needed further punishment, but my master did
not seem so certain. When we were alone one day, Ethan not having
turned up at the gym that afternoon, he said to me

"Slave, you're causing me big problems! Master Ethan is almost
laughing at the lenient way I'm treating you. He's always suggesting
I allow him to cane you again, but I'm not so certain that's what's
needed. You used to be a good, willing, co-operative slave and it
was enjoyable to be with you here in the gym. But recently, you're a
proper misery.... my exercise period here is meant to be a relaxation
for me, but now I get depressed at having to spend time with you."

"Whatever it is that's caused this change in attitude in you, I
advise you to snap out of it and go back to serving me properly. I
don't want to beat you repetitively, because I don't think that will
fix the problem. But if it persists I will have to punish you in a
spectacular way to restore my standing in Master Ethan's eyes. So
take this as a once and final warning: I want my old happy slave
back, immediately, or I will punish you in a way that you will
remember for ever. I will have you castrated, and fitted with
prosthetic balls so that your general appearance is not affected. Do
you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Good. You were a good slave when I first bought you, and I want
that slave back again! I don't like to have slaves castrated as I
think it's important that you retain some feeling of being a man, but
I warn you, that's what will happen: this is your last chance. Now,
one more time, do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

But of course I couldn't actually do anything about it - the
depression that hung over me like a black cloud since losing Jay had
no simple fix. And although I tried as hard as I could to serve my
master well when he came to the gym, I could see it wasn't working.
Although I could not understand my master and Ethan when they were
speaking Arabic rapidly to each other, I could tell from the gestures
they were using that they must, from time to time, be discussing me!

CUT!

We'd had a particularly bad time in the gym one day - my master had
said that I hadn't been trying hard enough to beat him at squash.
Actually I had been trying, but he was an excellent player and my
superior fitness was only just good enough to enable me to give him a
good match at the best of times. When I was not fully focussed on
it, my game was just that tiny bit "off", and it was enough to allow
my master to win easily.

"That's it!", he snapped at me as we came off the court. "I'm
sending you to the slave doctor tomorrow, and I'm having your balls
cut off."

I remembered with horror how when I had been at Mike's he had told
Kev about his work as a surgeon, and how he "routinely" performed
castrations and fitted prosthetic balls. Presumably there was now a
new doctor to replace Mike, and he would be equally proficient with
the gelding knife.

I hung my head in abject misery. I knew it was no good arguing with
my master, as that was only likely to make matters worse. So I just
stood there wondering what the fuck I could do. If anything, I think
I was, in a strange way, glad. Without Jay my life was pretty
meaningless, and without him to play with my balls, suck the semen
from my cock, and generally love me, what was the point in having
balls anyway? Sure, I would no longer be a real man, but what did it
matter? Without Jay my life wasn't complete anyway.

Ethan had been watching our match, and to my surprise he now
counselled moderation to my master.

"Surely this is a valuable breeding specimen?", he said. "I thought
you told me that he had all the desirable physical characteristics
that you wanted yo build into your next generation slaves. Without
his balls, you're not going to be able to use him for that...."

"Look, Ethan, you're always telling me to punish him until he changes
his mind. I warned him a week ago that if his attitude didn't
improve I'd punish him in a way he'd never forget, and that I'd have
his balls taken. You know I'm a man of my word, and if I backed down
now, there will be no hope of taming this slave."

"Well, how about something that he'll remember for ever and ever, but
is just a little less extreme?"

"Such as?"

"Why don't you circumcise him? I know he's a bit of an exotic, as
it's rare to find an American with his good looks and with his
foreskin still on as they cut so many of them at birth. So although
you'll lose a bit of value if you cut him now, it won't be nearly so
severe as it would be if you had his balls taken.... And he'll still
be able to participate in your breeding programme. Every time he
looks down, every time he pees, every time he has an erection, he'll
remember what it used to be like when he still had a foreskin and
that it was you who ordered it to be taken. It will emphasise his
slavery to him every single day of his life...."

"As ever, Ethan, you are the diplomat trying to find a solution
through a maze of conflicts. Yes, I think that is a good plan -
and, if it fails, I can still order the ultimate punishment and have
his balls taken later."

"A favour, then old friend"

"Of course, Ethan."

"Instead of sending for the doctor to do it, I'd like to cut him
myself. I've always wanted to actually cut a slave's foreskin off,
and this one is particularly fine looking - I think it would be
really pleasurable for me to feel the scalpel slicing through that
piece of skin."

"Why yes of course, Ethan. When do you want to do it?"

"There's no time like the present - why delay? Let's shower, and
whilst we're doing that you can order the guards to take him down to
that punishment cellar I know is under here somewhere."

The two men walked off, and shortly afterwards a guard came and
motioned for me to follow him. I felt like running away, but what
was the point? There was nowhere for me to go, and a naked man would
not even get very far even if he tried it. We went along the
corridors of the complex, then down a flight of concrete steps - down
and down, until I thought we must be at least three storeys under the
surface.

The punishment room was as I remembered it, stark concrete, lit by
utilitarian strip lights, and containing a number of devices and
pieces of apparatus the function of most I could only guess at. I
stood there, looking around, shivering slightly as the remaining
sweat from my squash match evaporated into the air, which was anyway
cooler than I was used to in the complex as a whole.

The guard stood there, grinning at me, and occasionally stroking at
his crotch and making little laughing noises. My master and Ethan
came in after about 20 minutes, and Ethan at once commanded me to go
and stand against a large wooden "X" that was bolted to the floor so
that it sloaped at a 45 degree angle to the vertical.

I did as I was told - that other option was open to me? - and felt
the wood press into my legs, thighs, back and arms as I leaned back
onto the "X". Ethan at once used strips of Velcro to bind my wrists,
biceps, ankles, knees and thighs tightly to the "X".

He then took a longer length, passed it around my waist, and cinched
it tight.

Looking at my master he said "Do you want to test that the slave is
really tightly secured? As we've decided to do it without
anaesthetic, this is going to be pretty painful for him and I want to
make certain there's no possibility of him moving."

My master came and stood in front of me, reached down, took my balls
in the palm of one hand and then, without warning, squeezed them
hard. I almost vomited with the pain, and tried to break free of his
grasp, but it was clear that the bindings were indeed tight - there
was actually no movement at all of my pelvic region and my leg-jerk
reflex had been unable to make any movement at all of the bindings.

"Very good", Ethan said. He pulled up a wheeled chair so he was
sitting in front of me, and strapped a piece of wood onto his left
thigh with Velcro bindings. Moving the chair closer, he reached down
to adjust its height so that my could rest my cock on the wood on top
of his thigh.

I could feel his fingers manipulating my cock and rolling it around
the wooden board. He teased my foreskin up and down once or twice,
and I of course started to get an erection. Instantly I was grunting
with pain again as with his other hand he reached down and gave my
balls a sharp slap."

"No erections, slave! At least, not until afterwards!".

The blow had been enough to make me lose the erection, and I saw him
take up one of those "Magic Marker" pens with a fine point. It
itched as the tip of the pen was moved around my cock, and after a
couple of minutes Ethan said to my master

"I think that's it. If I cut along that line, there will be a nice
neat job with the upper part of the shaft left nice and smooth, and
such puckering and scarring as there inevitably is neatly concealed
underneath. Do you agree?"

My master came up, and I felt his firm fingers probing my cock and
sliding the foreskin just as Ethan had.

"Yes. Are you ready to cut, then, friend Ethan?"

"Yes. But are we going to hear the salve scream, or shall we give
him something to bite down on? That might be better, as we don't
want to risk his injuring himself by biting his tongue or anything."

My master went out of my field of vision, but returned moments later
with a piece of hard black rubber about two inclose in diameter and
six inches long. He pushed it toward my mouth, saying

"Take this, slave, and bight down on it. Master Ethan is going to
cut slowly, to do a good job of it, so you'll have several seconds of
pain as the scalpel slices through your flesh. But you'll find that
if you bite down firmly into the rubber, it will help."

I took the rubber bar into my mouth, and could smell its
characteristic smell as I forced my teeth into it.

A few moments later, the pain began. Nothing at first, but then I
realised that Ethan was using an incredibly sharp scalpel to slice
through me. After a couple of seconds, my nerve endings, which had
been temporarily fooled by the sharpness o the blade, started to fire
and I wanted to scream and scream. It went on and on, for what
seemed like for ever, but which probably wasn't for more that about
ten seconds in total.

Then I heard Ethan say "There! Clean as a whistle!"

I was just about recovering although my cock was throbbing, and I
could feel drool from the corners of my mouth trickling down onto my
naked chest, when a new wave of pain struck me - this was quite
unlike the first, as it was sharp, fierce, and totally overwhelming.
It was like when you get lemon juice or chilli in a small cut when
cooking, except that it was far, far worse. In spite of myself I
screamed and screamed and screamed, but the pain only gradually
subsided.

Tears were running down my cheeks, and my master now came up and
removed the bar from my jaws.

"All over, slave! That last pain was when Master Ethan rolled the
cut end of your cock into styptic powder to staunch the bleeding, and
disinfect the wound. I guess it hurts a lot more than we imagine!"

He and Ethan then started to remove the Velcro bindings that were
fastening me to the large "X", and I was able to stand upright again,
although every muscle in my body was quivering with tension and it
was a huge effort.

Looking around, I could see the wood that had been strapped to
Ethan's leg as an impromptu "operating table". It was now soaked in
my blood, and lying beside it on the floor was a bloody scrap of skin
that I realised must be what Ethan had cut off. I looked down, and
couldn't help prevent myself from gently reaching down to hold my
cock in my hand. It was a bloody red mass at the end, with a white
powdery coating which I guessed must be the styptic powder my master
had been referring to. I could see the tip of my cock head and my
piss slit in front of all this, though.

"Look, but don't touch!", my master commanded. "You are not, I
repeat not, to touch your cock until at least tomorrow morning to
give time for the scalpel cut to heal. Master Ethan used an
extremely sharp scalpel and cut carefully, and the styptic powder
stanched the flow of bleeding. So there should be minimal scarring,
provided you don't touch it and open the wound again. Now, can I
trust you not to fiddle with it tonight, however painful or itchy it
is? Can you act like a real man and leave your cock alone, in your
own best interests, or shall I treat you like a common slave and have
your hands tied behind you as you are incapable of exercising self
control?"

"You can trust me, master."

"Good. Now I'll have the guard take you back to the complex."

It actually took the best part of two weeks for my cock to heal
totally. It felt strange at first to always have my cock head
exposed and not tucked up snugly inside the foreskin. But as I got
used to it, I realised there were some advantages - I was much less
sensitive now, and when I was masturbating I could jerk myself for
much longer before I came, and afterwards it was not nearly as
painful as it was before.

A WEEKEND IN THE COUNTRY

Did the threat of castrating me finally get through after my master
had shown his determination to alter my mood by circumcising me? Or
was it just natural that, however much you are 'down', a healthy, fit
guy will sooner or later come out of it? It was probably a bit of
both, and, to my own surprise, I did eventually find myself revelling
in the exercise regime again, and enjoying keeping my body toned and
fit. My master was pleased to see this change in me, and evidently
ascribed it tot the circumcision.

He and Ethan had of course inspected me closely as soon as the wounds
had healed, and they now made me exercise naked as they said that my
cut cock was so much more pleasant to look at when it wasn't erect
than it had been before.

I'd never forgotten Jay, of course, and the feeling of his hard body
pressed close to mine as we kissed, caressed, and made love. But I
knew I was never going to see him again, and the pain of his loss had
subsided somewhat. I don't know - he was the first man I had ever
loved, but he seemed to me to be the perfect lover - considerate,
fun, a great body, and always willing to have another bout of sex.
Although I had no real standards of comparison, I knew that not all
men could be like this with each other, and I supposed that I had to
count myself lucky to have known Jay, even though we had been torn
apart so cruelly.

One day my master gave me a surprise, however. He announced that he
was going to spend the weekend at Master Ethan's country estate, and
that I was to accompany them! He had not been able to put his full
quota of time in at the gym for a couple of weeks as I understood
that he was hatching some major deal that was badly eating into his
leisure time. So he was determined to catch up on his exercise that
weekend, and so had decided to take me along as I was used to his
regime - although Master Ethan had other slaves on his estate who
could exercise with my master, it was much more convenient for him to
be able to work out with the slave who was totally familiar with his
needs.

I was of course overjoyed - I would have a chance to see Jay again,
as I knew he was at Ethan's country place! We might even get to be
together for the night, as I doubted that my Master would want to
exercise in the evening (and he had never shown any interest in using
me as a bed slave for his sexual enjoyment).

We set out late on the Thursday evening from the capital, my Master
and Master Ethan in a big air-conditioned limousine in front, and
their luggage and me in a small truck following behind. This again
emphasised to me my status - after all their luggage had been loaded,
two of the house slaves lifted on to the back of the truck a barred
cage about four feet square and three feet high. I was then told to
get in to it, and the door on the front was shut and secured by a
small padlock - I was just another piece of "luggage" to be
transported along with all my master's other effects. It wasn't
very pleasant in the cage, as I could not stand up, or even sit up.
All I could do was lie there, bent up, whilst the sun beat down on my
naked body and the dust swirled around me as we sped along the crude
roads out into the country.

We stopped after what must have been a couple of hours, and I could
see my Master and Ethan going into a roadside guest house. The
driver of the truck came around and offered me a drink, pushing a
bottle of water through the bars of my cage, and I swallowed it
eagerly as I had been sweating a great deal as the dry air flowed
over my body as we drove along. I was still very dry after I had
drained it, and the driver was evidently a good man because he went
over to a tap on the wall of the guest house, and re-filled the
bottle so that I could drink my fill again.

Of course, the inevitable happened, and just as my Master and Ethan
were coming out of the guest house, obviously refreshed, and joking
together in that way that only true intimates do, I knew that I
needed to piss. I told the driver this, but he just shrugged his
shoulders - he hadn't got the key to the padlock on my cage door (and
I don't suppose he would have unlocked it anyway, even if he had!).
I tried to hold it in, but I didn't know how long the rest of the
journey to Master Ethan's estate would be. And as the truck bounced
up and down over the rough road, the pain in my insides got worse and
worse. I just knew I had to piss, and the only thing I could do was
just to lie there, curled up to fit in the cage, and let the piss
flow out of me. I could see it making little rivulets as it ran
along the bed of the truck, before spraying off the end into the
desert air. I felt so humiliated, as no guy really likes to have to
piss where he's lying - even when you're forced to piss in a strange
place, you can after all usually at least stand there and direct the
flow against a tree, or a post, or something. Here I couldn't do
that, and I just had to lie there and let it happen.

It was dark by the time we arrived at our destination, and I had no
chance to see what it looked like. The truck with my cage on it was
driven around the back into a complex of outbuildings, and eventually
a man came along with a key to uncage me. With the fall of night the
temperature had of course gone down dramatically, and I was actually
very cold as I lay there. When the cage was opened, the combination
of the cold and the cramped conditions meant that it was actually
quite difficult for me to crawl out, and then I had difficulty in
standing upright. I rubbed at my muscles as best I could, and did a
few simple exercises to try to get life back into my aching muscles.

I was led off and put into a small cell, and the door was locked. It
was very simple - plain concrete walls and floor, a crap hole in one
corner, a spigot for drinking water in the middle of one wall, barred
door, so that anyone in the corridor could look in, and just a rough
leather-covered sleeping pad lying on the cold concrete.

I crapped down the crap hole, and lay down onto the leather pad and
tried to sleep. But excitement kept me awake - I could, after all,
be within a few feet of Jay at this very moment. When would I get to
see him again. Or, of course, frighteningly, would I get to see
him? Life couldn't be so cruel that I could be so close to my lover,
and yet never get to contact him, could it?

Sleep did come eventually, of course, and I was woken up by the
clanging of the door of my cell as it was opened. A guard stood
there, and he told me to be quick to get out of the cell, as I needed
to be cleaned up and showered as my Master was planning to go for a
run around the estate that morning, and I was of course to accompany
him.

I scrubbed myself clean in the shower, revelling in having my body
fresh and sweet-smelling again, and one of the slaves in the showers
came over and shaved my face. He reached down to feel my balls, but
said these didn't need doing that morning as they were still quite
smooth. I was given a small pair of the usual white silk exercise
shorts that fitted low down below my hip bones, and barely concealed
my tackle - in fact, I now knew that the purpose of the shorts was to
emphasise my body rather than conceal it, so the silk was cut so that
the outline of my cock and balls could plainly be seen as I stood
there. The shorts were specially made for me, as the leg openings
were sized so that movement was not impeded but my cock couldn't flop
out - they were designed to support me whilst exercising, whilst
being as revealing as possible.

I was led out to the front of the building, which I now saw was of a
very considerable size, and told to wait at the foot of the imposing
flight of steps that led up to the front entrance. I stood there in
the bright, hot morning sun, watching the activity of the estate
going on in front of me. I could see gangs of slaves working in the
fields, and occasionally overseers and guards came by, on horseback,
evidently on their way to supervise the work.

My master eventually came down the steps, and he was as usual
immaculately dressed in a white exercise singlet and running shorts,
cut high on the thigh so that his own muscular legs were displayed.

"We're waiting for Master Ethan, slave", he said. "Master Ethan
isn't going to exercise with us as he does not like running outdoors,
but he's going to accompany us in his pony cart so that he can show
us the estate properly."

We stood there and did stretching and general warm-up exercises for a
few minutes, my Master standing facing me and following me as I went
through the regular programme we always did before a serious
workout. As I watched his body in the skimpy singlet and shorts, I
thought what a fine body he was developing by his devotion to the
exercise regime we were following.

My Master was getting impatient as we finished our warm-up, as Master
Ethan had still not appeared, and we went on to do a little gentle
running on the spot just to keep our muscle tine up. I could see my
Master starting to lose his temper, however, and just as he was about
to snap commands of some type to the slaves who had stood
respectfully at the foot of the steps, watching us, Master Ethan
appeared.

I gasped, and my Master looked rather surprised, because Master Ethan
was seated in a light cart rather like those you see in trotting-
horse races in the USA. But the "pony" pulling this light cart was
not a pony, but a naked slave! As they got closer I could see that
the slave had his hands cuffed to the shafts of the cart, and was
wearing a tight-fitting black leather hood covering his eyes. The
hood had some sort of attachment at the front of it, and below that a
stainless-steel bit protruded from the corners of the slave's mouth,
from which leather reins ran back to Master Ethan.

"Whoa", Master Ethan said as he drove parallel to us and hauled back
on both reins so that the slave's head was pulled back. Now I could
see the slave clearly, and whilst my Master and Master Ethan chatted
away I looked in astonishment to see how he had been "decorated" to
it with the light cart.

The cart itself was made of shiny stainless steel, except for the
small seat on which Mater Ethan sat which was of padded leather. The
slave had two very thick, very large stainless rings, one through
each nipple, and another hanging down from his nose where you could
see that it passed through his septum. His body was completely
shaved, with not a trace of hair anywhere on it, and his cock was
jutting out in front of him in a most unnatural way - as I looked, I
saw that this was because a thick stainless-steel band passed around
the root of his cock and balls, causing them to be thrust forwards
almost at right angles to his belly even when he was not erect.
His "ringing" finished with a large stainless "Prince Albert" ring
hanging out of his piss-slit and entering his cock again on the
underside, just behind his cock head.

I could see a series of Arabic characters had been branded into his
left ass cheek - it was clear that they were not just tattoos, as
there was a definite "texture" where the flesh was raised up to form
the shapes. 
But probably the most amazing feature was the tattoo that covered his arms and back - stretching from the elbow, the
slave's upper arms were completely covered in a heavy tattoo design
that looked like that sea weed called kelp. This stretched all across
his shoulders and upper back, and went down his other arm, again down
to the elbow. The heavy, dark tattoo spreading across him like this
actually emphasised the stainless steel rings that glistened on his
body, and they were the same deep black as the tight-fitting leather
helmet covering his head and the upper part of his face.

My Master, too, was looking in astonishment at this pony, and Master
Ethan started to tell him how much enjoyment he had had in deciding
on the tattooing and ringing of the slave.

"I'm surprised you don't recognise him", he was saying to my
master, "In spite of all the changes. Can't you see that, underneath
it all, he's that marine that I bought to exercise with after I had
seen that marine that you have with you now?"

I gasped, audibly. What had they done to Jay? He'd changed so much
that I simply had not recognised him!

"Yes", Ethan continued, "His physique fits him ideally for this
work. Good, strong muscular legs, and a good heart and lung system
so that he can trot for hours - with a little encouragement from the
lash, of course! After the Ambassador forbade us embassy staff from
keeping slaves in the embassy compound, you'll remember that I had
him sent here to my estate. Of course I'm only really here at most
one or two nights a week, so it seemed a waste to keep an exercise
slave just for my gym here. One of my neighbours came over in his
pony cart one day, and I decided that this was the perfect job for
the slave - don't you agree?"

My master was looking over Jay's body, and replied "Well, you
certainly have changed him! I like all the rings - they complement
the cart so well."

"Yes - these new lightweight stainless steel carts mean that you can
go for a fair distance, at a reasonable speed, without needing a huge
number of ponies to pull them. I know that gold is usually the
preferred material for ringing, and I wouldn't want anyone to think I
couldn't afford it - but somehow, when I saw the shiny steel, I
thought that the pony should be adorned to match."

"The cock cinch is a good idea", my master commented.

"Yes, since I've had that fitted, the pony has been able to run
harder and faster - he's very well hung, as you can see, and before
he was cinched like that his balls could be quite painful at the end
of a long run from where they had bounced up and down totally
unsupported - American men aren't used to exercising like that, as
even from an early age they wear a jock or something. But of course
it's really designed to display him to even better advantage - you
know, I was once told that the advantage of having nipple rings on a
slave was that as he runs they bounce up and down and the sensation
in his nipples constantly reminds him of his slave status. Well,
it's a bit like this with this cinch ring - he can never doubt that
he's a slave, as every movement he makes is amplified through his
cock as it's forced to stick out like that!"

"What's that thing on his head for?", my Master asked.

"Oh, it's something else I thought of - the hood is tight onto the
head so that it can carry in-build glasses. They serve two purposes -
firstly, they're like blinkers, so he can't see to the side, only to
the front. The pony's task is to pull me, not to enjoy the scenery!
And secondly, there are prisms in there so that even though he's
looking up, he can only actually see the ground about three or four
feet in front of him. I find that this increases his dependence on
me, as he's absolutely reliant on me to guide him with the reins and
not allow him to fall into any large potholes or anything. Neat,
don't you think?"

"Anyway, shall we set out now?", Ethan continued. "I can see you're
standing there in the hot sun, and if we leave it any longer, I'm
worried you'll burn!"

My Master agreed, and he and I set off at quite a fast pace. Ethan
slapped the reins against Jay's naked ass, and he too set off,
trotting along at our pace.

As I ran, I thought about poor Jay - what had they done to him? I
suppose it was reasonable that I couldn't recognise him as the
tattoos mostly disguised his upper body, and of course the leather
hood covering half of his face didn't help either!

It was easy for me to run the five miles or so of our exercise, and
my Master did not find it too difficult, either. But for Jay it was
a different matter - even though I knew he could have done it
perfectly easily if he'd just been running by himself, dragging
Master Ethan in a pony cart was quite a different thing! From about
half way through our route he was obviously suffering, and Master
Ethan used a light whip to "encourage" him to keep up with us. By
the time we got back to the central complex, his back and ass were
criss-crossed with the marks of the whip, and the flesh had been
broken in several places and there was a trickle of blood down the
back of his straining thighs.

"Exercised enough, old friend?", Ethan asked when we had come to a
halt.

My Master was now standing in that characteristic pose of all runners
who have done just a little too much exercise- he was half bent, with
his hands resting on his hips, and he was breathing hard. His
singlet was completely soaked in sweat, and you could clearly see the
outline of his well-muscled body through it.

"Yes, enough!", he said. "I just want to relax for the rest of the
day. Can you tell your people just to take care of my exercise
slave, as I won't be using him again this weekend!"

With that, my Master and Ethan went off, and Jay and I were left
standing there. But not for long - two servants (or slaves?) came
out, took hold of Jay's reins, and led him, still attached to the
cart, off around the back. I was told to follow, and stood and
watched as they then uncuffed him from the cart, and released the
elastic straps that were holding the bit into his mouth. They then
went and undid the back of his leather hood, and peeled it off, and
then Jay could turn - and saw me!

"Steve!", he shouted. "I never thought I'd see you again!"

"Jay!", I cried in return, and before the servants could stop us, we
had leaped at each other and were embracing. I could feel Jay's
cinched cock stabbing at me as we hugged and grasped each other
tight, and in response my own cock, barely restrained by the tiny
silk shorts that my Master insisted I wore when we ran together, went
hard as a rod and stabbed back at him.

The next moment we both broke free, flinching, as the servants had
cracked the carriage whip over each of our asses - even through the
silk of my shorts it hurt, and knew it must have been even more
painful for Jay as he had been lashed so many time when we were
running.

We were taken off and allowed to shower, and it was heaven to be able
to run my hands over Jay's body again, in spite of the cruel rings
that now protruded from his nipples and cock head. He in turn
caressed and stroked me as we stood there under the sluicing water,
and we even had the opportunity to kiss - just once, before the
servants broke us up. It felt very curious to try to get my lips
locked onto Jay's with his nose ring hanging down, but he was still
my friend, my lover, whatever that bastard Ethan had ordered done to
him.

Of course it couldn't last - we weren't allowed to spend any more
time together as he was a "pony" and so was taken into the stable
sand chained into his usual stall - just an area of the stables with
low walls to separate out different areas, with straw on the floor.
As a visiting slave, but potentially as escapee, I was locked into a
small cage on the other side of the stables, and all that Jay and I
could do for the rest of the day was to stand there and look at each
other.

SOLD AGAIN

The following morning my Master came in and looked at me through the
bars of the cage.

"Goodbye, slave", he said. "You will not be accompanying me back to
the city as I have sold you to Master Ethan. He has a thing for
marines, as you know, and he offered to take you off my hands after I
had lost rather a large amount to him last night at backgammon! I'll
miss you in a way, as you were a good slave to exercise with - but
fashions change, you know, and your build is no longer really 'the
thing' in the city - it was getting quite embarrassing to bring some
of my other work-out buddies back to my complex, knowing you were
there. I've had my eye on a young guy, only about 5'10", with more
of a swimmer's build, and I'll probably complete the purchase of him
on Monday."

H turned and walked out. So that was it? He'd spent all that time
with me, and now he had lost me at a game of chance! And he hadn't
minded much, as I was no longer "fashionable"! I knew again what it
meant to be a slave, a mere object, that meant as little to a master
as did, say, an automobile that would be changed when the
next "fashion" came along.

But what was to become of me now? Why did Master Ethan want to buy
me, if I was no longer "fashionable"? I thought that he was even
more sensitive to "fashion" than was my master.

I soon found out! Later that morning servants came and unlocked my
cage. I was told to strip off my shorts, and one joked that that was
the last cloth I'd ever feel on my body again.

I was led off into a small tiled room off the main stables, and told
to sit in what looked a bit like an old-fashioned dentist's chair.
The leather of the back and seat was cold and clammy against my bare
back and ass, and as soon as I was down the servants used leather
straps built into the chair and its arms to tightly hold me into it -
leather bands with Velcro bindings held my wrists, forearms, thighs,
ankles, chest and belly all firmly in place.

Strapped completely immobile, all I could do was just sit there and
wait to see what happened next.

After about half an hour, a man - obviously a Master of some sort,
judging by the way the servants and slaves deferred to him - came
in. He had one of those short nylon tunics, of the kind dentists and
doctors wear, over his normal clothes, and he came and stood by the
chair.

"Open wide", he snapped at me. And when I did nothing, as I did not
know what to do, he rapped "Get your fucking mouth open when I
command it, slave, else I'll pull your balls off!"

So I opened my mouth, and he used one of those tiny mirrors and a
steel probe to examine my teeth, closely. Without saying anything
more, he rummaged in his bag - one of those big bags like doctors
carry, bought out a syringe, and injected my lower jaw on both
sides. I hate injections at the dentist, as the needle can scrape
against your jaw bones, and this guy evidently didn't care at all
whether it caused me any discomfort or not.

I was moaning slightly when he had done, and he just looked at me and
said "Count yourself lucky that I'm here at all, slave! You've got
to have the two bottom molars removed so that a bit will fit neatly
in your mouth, and if it hadn't been my 'day' to be here to treat the
slaves generally, they would just have done it in the old fashioned
way with no anaesthetic. As it is, it's going to be pretty tough, as
I'm only paid a fixed price per slave, and so I don't really want to
waste too many drugs. The pain will have lessened, but you should
expect, as they say, 'some discomfort'!"

He was fucking right! He reached in to my mouth with a vicious
looking pair of pincers, and, almost kneeling on my chest, gripped
one of my back teeth, pushed down hard, then heaved with all his
might. But back teeth are deep rooted, and he had to do it again
before finally the tooth tore out of my jaw.

He stood looking at it for a moment, the brilliant white of the top
(I'd always had good teeth, and of course the Marine's dental service
kept us in tip top condition), and the bloody root. Then just
causally dropped it onto the floor. My mouth and jaw felt as if they
were going to explode, I was in so much pain, but there was no
respite.

"Open again", he snapped, and when I hesitated he simply reached down
and twisted my balls, quite viciously. As my mouth opened to scream
at him, he simply put the pincers in again on the opposite side,
pushed down to break the fixing in the jaw, and heaved again to pull
out a back tooth from the other side.

"There! All done!", he said. "Just remember, even though it hurts,
it's as nothing to the way it would have been if you'd had no
anaesthetic at all!"

I sat there, mumbling and almost crying, whilst my mouth filled with
blood and it trickled out of the corners of my lips to run across my
naked chest.

I was kept there for an hour, and one of the slaves was good enough
to bring we some water so that I would rinse my mouth out. The pain
went from the sharp agony of the extraction to a dull, persistent
ache in my jaws, but I forgot this when a second man, again in a
doctor's uniform, came in.

This man sat in a swivel chair which he pulled up so that he was
right up against me, in-between my legs. A small wheeled table was
pulled up beside him, and he took up a long instrument from it - I
guess it was a just like a brad awl, except that the metal bit
protruding from the wooden handle was in stainless steel, and looked
much sharper.

He reached up and took my left nipple between his thumb and
forefinger, and started to roll it around. With that stimulation, my
nipple soon went hard, and the next instant he had plunged the brad
awl through it into a cork which he held on the other side. I'd
yelped with the sheer unexpectedness of the pain, but hadn't been
able to move at all because of the way I was so tightly restrained.
Without stopping, he picked up a steel ring and threaded it through
the hole in my nipple. A drop of glue on the open ends of the ring,
and a pair of shaped pliers, the gap in the ring was closed, and he
wiped off the excess glue.

It was worse when he did the right nipple, as I was now expecting it,
and as the brad awl advanced towards me I braced myself, which almost
made the pain worse.

I had a nose ring, too - he made the hole in my septum bit a special
pair of pliers that had a spike on one side and a cup with a hole in
it on the other side - rather like those kitchen instruments you see
for stoning cherries.

My body felt as if it was on fire all over - I didn't know which pain
was the worst - my jaws, nipples, or nose. When they released the
bindings holding me to the chair, I cold barely stand properly. And
worse was yet to come - the servants had bought a wooden sawhorse
with a padded top into the room, and I was dragged and made to lie on
it on with the top running along by chest and belly. My legs were
spread across it, and strapped to the legs of the horse, and my arms
were similarly restrained. A leather strap was then put around the
horse and my waist, and really pulled tight.

I lay there, wondering what was going to happen next, and then saw
them bring in what was clearly a branding iron.

"No theatrical messing around with charcoal braziers these days", one
of the servants joked. "Just this little cylinder of gas and a
burner. Now you lie nice and still, whilst we get this iron up to
white heat. The hotter it is, the less painful it will be for you!"

When the white hot iron was pressed into my left ass cheek, and held
there for several seconds, I first of all screamed, then I fainted.
When I came to, I saw that my bowels had involuntarily let fly, and
there was the dreadful smell of my own shit everywhere - I could feel
some of the shit still between my ass cheeks.

"Don't worry!", the servant said, "That happens quite a lot when
you're branded. You can't help it, and we'll soon have it cleared
up. That's why you're in this tiled room."

A hose did indeed soon clear most of the shit away, and they directed
a stream of the icy water up my ass crack, too, to flush away the
shit lurking there.

I was dragged back to my cage, and all I could do for the rest of the
day was just lie there in complete agony. I didn't have to do
anything on the next day, either, although the servants came by to
twiddle my three new rings to make sure that as the wounds healed the
rings would move freely.

On day four the slaves took me and shaved me, completely, all over.
I had no hair left on my body, anywhere. Somehow the loss of my
remaining hair, including the tiny bar of pubic hair above my cock,
was the final indignity and I felt even less of a man . The rest of
the day I was lying flat out on my stomach whilst the tattooist went
to work on me - the thousands of pin pricks were as nothing to the
pain I had already suffered. And when he was finished, I saw that my
own upper arms and back were now covered with the same tattoos as Jay
had been.

Fitting the cinch ring didn't hurt at all - my balls were teased
forward and stretched as much as possible, whilst a two inch collar
went around the root of them and my cock. It did feel strange to be
standing there with my cock jutting out, and when I was told to walk,
jump and run, the sensation was extremely odd - I almost had to learn
how to walk again and do the most obvious things.

But let me tell you that if you're going to have a PA, make sure you
get he head of your cock anaesthetised first! They didn't do that to
me, of course, and when my final ring was fitted the pain as the
spike pushed through my cock was acute.

I realised that I was now just like Jay - branded, tattooed, shaved,
and ringed. I assumed Master Ethan had bought me from my old master
to replace Jay - what could have happened to him?

MY NEW LIFE

When I was led out of the stable for the first time after all my
modifications, I was astonished to see Jay there, too! We looked
just like twin brothers - all the work that had been done to us had
removed the small individual differences between our bodies, and we
were almost complete clones of each other.

We were led between the shafts of a new carriage - one for two ponies
to pull, with a longer seat (so, I surmised, Master Ethan would be
able to take a friend with him on his trips around the estate). The
first time the bit was pushed back in my mouth and down into the pit
left by the removal of my back teeth it still hurt a bit, and I hated
it when the grooms fitted the leather hood over my shaved head so
that I could only see the ground immediately in front of me.

A young guy - judging by the sound of his voice - came up and told
Jay and me that we were to be Master Ethan's new show ponies - we
needed to learn how to run perfectly in step with each other, and for
the next few days we would do just that - constant running exercises,
with liberal use of a light lash if we failed to run smoothly, in
perfect harmony with each other. As if that wasn't bad enough,
though, the carriage was loaded with sacks of flour to simulate the
effects of having two masters in it. The young guy evidently ran
alongside us (we couldn't see, of course), as he could always tell
when we weren't in step and a stinging last went across our bare
asses.

I was exhausted by the end of the day, but it didn't matter - to my
joy, Jay and I were led to the same stall in the stables, and a light
chain through both our nose rings kept us tethered there.

"Jay - I can't believe it!"

"Hey, Steve. Come here! Hold me!"

I needed no more encouragement. I no longer cared about the pain. I
didn't mind about the humiliation of my ringing, branding and
tattooing, or about being made to lose all my humanity and live life
as a pony. I was with Jay. That's enough for me.

THE END









