Date: Fri, 9 Feb 2007 19:23:32 EST
From: SANIBELBOYS@aol.com
Subject: a lesson in time part 25

This story is (C)Copyright 2006, by  TM. All World Wide Rights Reserved.
This story may not be sold or made part  of any collection without prior
written
permission.



A Lesson  In Time, Chapter Twenty  Five


Apparently the pony slaves had something heinous in mind for me. Just as I
was  being pulled backwards from the mounting bench I heard one of them yell `
stop'.

With hands  on either side of my head, the slave began to rub my face in the
vomit which had  remained on the smooth surface from just moments ago. This
act of depravity  seemed to bring out the laughs and demonic verbiage from the
rest of the slaves  and I instantly knew that I was heading for even rougher
treatment.

"Poor baby boy thinks we're to mean", hollered one of the  slaves.

"Pussyboy ain't seen nothing yet", exclaimed  another.

""He's gonna know who the real men are, by the time the sun comes up", said
yet  another of the  slaves.

After a brief moment, I was shoved to the floor, with someone putting their
foot  up against my ass; pushing me in the direction in which he wanted me to
crawl.

"Yep, it's sure gonna be nice playing with a new piece of slave meat", said
the  one that I perceived to be the black  slave.

As  soon as I felt the straw against my skin I realized that I must've
arrived in  the designated  stall.

I was  ordered to kneel erect, which I did; and without any hesitation on
their part,  the slaves began to urinate on my body, including my face. The
rancid piss  quickly began dripping down every conceivable part of my body, rapidly
being  absorbed by the straw floor  covering.

My  jaw was pried open and some form of hard rubber was forced in and set in
place  behind my teeth; leaving my mouth wide open. "Can't deny that the
bitch has got  nice teeth, now can we", said one of the slaves. "I guess his two
little slave  friends ain't gonna be much help to him now, unless they want to
get the same  treatment."

Again, I was the brunt of the slave's comment, as the group broke out into
yet  further disgusting  rants.

My  hands were pulled behind my back and then my wrists were roped to the
cuffs on  my ankles, leaving me totally incapable of defending myself. Another
rope was  passed underneath my collar, from behind, and tied in such a way as to
prevent  my head from falling  forward.

I  nearly lost my balance, as they pulled my legs further apart; which also
placed  even greater restrictions on my movements. "Looks like he's about the
right  height now", remarked the slave that I knew to be a Latino.

"Sure does,  and I'm guessing he'll be able to take any cock that comes his
way too", shouted  one of the  slaves.

The  slaves began going back and forth, amongst themselves, as to who was
going to  fuck my face first. And about the only thing I remember about their
conversations was when one of them said "I'm going to fuck his throat so hard
that he won't be able to talk for a fucking week". I was fairly confident
that  it was the black slave who made that  remark.

I  had forgotten about Nathan and his camera, until I heard him speak up. "
Before  you guys get started, don't forget that we have to wait for John Henry
to get  back with the pussyslaves  bottle".

There was some grumbling amongst the slaves, but they seemed resigned to
having  to wait.

I  wasn't the least bit surprised, or shocked, when Nathan made the
suggestion `for  the sole purpose of the documentary', that the younger pony slave get
down and  `slurp the drippings' from my  ass.

Moments  later, the slave was behind me, his face planted between the cheeks
of my ass;  sucking out the remnants of slave sperm. I could vividly imagine
him, with his  pristine face and glacier blue eyes being made to rim my anal
orifice.

"Ah, young slave does approach" laughed a  slave.

"The  Housemaster and housekeeper thought that this would be much better than
the  regular nipple", commented John Henry in a less than enthusiastic tone
of voice.  At least I now knew that he was here and not off doing something
else. He and  Jordan were my only connections to the real world at this point and
I didn't  want to be here without  them.

"Indeed so", barked the black slave. "It'll give the pussyslave something
to  practice on before he gets the real  thing".

I  instantly felt something gliding over my tongue. It was rubbery yet not
all that  soft. "You need to get you some nourishment boy", said a slave. "Just
think of  it as a preliminary lesson before you get the real  thing."

Moments later, my gag reflex kicked in and I began to struggle as the object
worked its way back and forth in my mouth. Each time my throat passage was
invaded, my muscles squeezed against the object, which I assumed was some form
of imitation cock; and with each convulsion I could feel liquid pouring into
my  throat.

I  took me awhile to recognize that what I was tasting was identical to the
liquid  that I sucked from a large bottle just last  night.

There  didn't seem to be any breaks between the thrusts and soon my nose was
spewing  snot; which seemed to please the group of slaves. There were several
times when  Nathan had the slaves move this way and that way, just so he could
get a better  angle for the camera  lens.

I  began to feel different, much as I had the previous night. It only took me
a  minute or two before I finally came to the realization that last night and
 tonight... my liquid was tainted with something other than a nutritional
substance.

My muscles began to relax; more obvious were the muscles in my throat, as my
gagging began to subside. My head seemed to want to spin just a bit and my
brain  was revving up; in such a way that all I could think about was sex. Pure
unadulterated  sex.

I'm  positive that my initial response to the aphrodisiac was what caused the
slaves  to become more anxious about fucking my face. I say this, because of
the one  time that the object was making its way down my throat, that I,
unprovoked,  leaned my body forward in an attempt to get more of it in my mouth. I
never  understood why I reacted in such a manner but as they say, "its water
under the  bridge" now.

The rubbery textured object was replaced with a blood gorged cock; which made
a  quick entrance down my throat. I could feel every muscle in my throat
pounding  back and forth against his cock, and I wanted to control it  myself.

The  more I concentrated on the slave's cock, the more relaxed I became and
was able  to will my own muscles to control the situation; which apparently
brought even  more `excited' pleasure to the slave standing in front of me. The
more relaxed I  made myself, the easier time I had at controlling my breathing
as well.  I  couldn't imagine, for the time being, me doing anything else
except sucking  cock.

I  could still feel the slave sucking and tonguing my rectum, and I could
also feel  someone's hand rubbing my shoulder; all the while, I sucked on the man
flesh in  my mouth and throat. I wanted, had I been able to, to wrap my hands
behind the  legs of the man in front of me. I wanted to feel more of him, as
my throat  massaged his cock. I needed to feel wanted and needed just as much
as any other  human being; but sadly I was only role playing the part of a
novice  slave.

Guttural sounds, combined with the sudden thrust of his hips alerted me to
the  impending orgasm. I could feel the wiry stubbles of the slave's pubic hairs
 against my face as rope after rope of his cum burst down my throat. There
were  several slaves exclaiming congratulatory remarks, before the cock eased
itself  out of my  face.

"That  was the best throat fuck I've had in a year" remarked the slave.  "
Next!"

"I  don't what to fuck his face with him having a mouth spreader", said the
next  slave standing in front of me; and the next thing I felt was his fingers
prying  the rubber ring out from behind my teeth. "We all know what we'll do
to him if'n  he bites or scrapes his useless fucking teeth on any of our
mansticks."

I worked my jaw sideways, back and forth, working out the minor stiffness;
just  prior to feeling the cockhead pressing passed my lips. Just from the
gargantuan  girth of the cock, I knew that it must have belonged to the  Latino.

"That's it bitch boy, suck a real man's cock; you fucking poor excuse for
white  trash", he said, sliding himself completely into my  face.

I was  a bit perplexed, trying to actually understand the slave's words. Here
was a  slave, talking to me as if he, himself, was a free  man.

"With  enough practice, this here bitch will almost suck cock as good as my
boy does;  but nobody will ever be able to suck cock like he  did."

The  man continued on, with a slower and more rhythmic response to his own
needs, as  compared to the last man. He seemed to be relishing the fact that he
was fucking  a white man's face slowly and with purpose. "This brings back a
lot of memories.  Sorta like the last time my boy sucked me off before I got
myself arrested. Now  I suppose he's sucking on his younger brother' boy
meat... least till I get back  home."

There  was some laughter mixed with comments, as the slave's all stood around
watching  the proceedings. "You ain't ever going home you dumb piece of
shit. You'll be a  slave for the next ten years and by then your boy will be all
grown up and  probably fucking his own  slave."

With  some laughter still remaining, one final comment seemed to send the
slave into a  fuck frenzy. "For all you know, you stupid fuck, your boy just
might end up  owning you and then you'll be sucking his cock and taking his dick
up your slimy  `spic' ass."

The slave's hands pressed against the sides of my head as he held his cock
embedded down my throat. He seemed to take his anger against the remarks made;
out on me. Over and over again, he cursed me and called me every vile name he
 could conjure up. He pumped his seed violently into my mouth as he pulled
back a  couple of inches.

I felt his  cock go limp rather quickly, as he extracted it. Before moving
aside, the slave  landed a forceful blow up side my head; sending me sideways to
the  floor.

The  stall was awestruck, deep in silence, as they watched me fall. The sound
of the  slave's hand striking my head, still rang in my ears as I was hauled
back up to  my knees.

My  next `experience' was the feeling atop my head and on my back, of two
separate  streams of piss striking my flesh. "Nothing better than to piss on the
bitch who  just swallowed a mouth full of baby making seed", said the  Latino.

If  it hadn't been for my blindfold, the other slaves would have seen the
stream of  tears pooling up.

However, I  still wanted more cock; I needed it, just to feel complete. I had
a strong  desire for every one of their cock poles. I visualized myself in
many different  and strange places sucking cock after cock until I couldn't suck
any  more.

Two  more cocks followed the Latino's cock and that seemed to be the end of
the  sucking, for now at  least.

>From  behind, someone pulled my head backwards. The next thing I know, I have
a  slave's ass pressed against my face and then I felt his cheeks move which
presented me with his pucker  hole.

The  odor of the slave soap filled my nostrils as I tongued his ass, which
seemed to  be tight. I could only `assume' that he and the other pony slaves
hadn't  bothered or needed to fuck one another; since there seemed to be an
ample supply  of other younger slaves to  fuck.

"This  is gonna make for a great learning tool", remarked Nathan; whose
voice seemed  rather close to my face. "I'd be anxious to get feedback from the
schools and  anybody else who sees the final cut of this  film."

Nathan's remarks seemed to bring me back to reality for a few moments. I hadn'
t  realized, or maybe I just forgot, that I was allowing my `inner self' to
be  exposed in front of the camera. Thankfully, with my eyes covered, the
person  viewing the film would never recognize who the slave was.

As I  continued to perform, someone from behind had reached between my legs
and taken  hold of my bound balls. Squeezing them seemed to only heighten my
sexual  awareness; sending my tongue darting back and forth across the rosebud
planted  against my face. My own dick seemed to have the desire to become
erect; but the  catheter somehow prevented it, causing me a minor amount of grief.
At the  moment, all I wanted to do was to get my nuts off and enjoy a mind
blowing  orgasm.

I  wasn't bothered by how many cocks I'd sucked or how many butts I licked
and  tongued out; but I was a conscious of the click and clat of hoofed feet
against  the bare floor just outside my  stall.


** Author's Note! The following is a tip-toe through a part of the story that
 some just may feel the need NOT to read. It is rather brief, and the author
will  denote the ending of this particular scene by the inclusion of asterisks
upon  conclusion... so scroll passed this part until you see the  `**'
notation.


The unmistakable fragrance of a horse soon filled my senses; allowing me the
perverted reality that there was now a horse entering the stall. Once or
twice,  the animal brushed up against my flesh, sending shivers of pure fright
coursing  through my entire  body.

There  was very little talking as the slaves positioned the stallion over me.
The only  words that I heard making any sense were `best to hobble the stud
before we go  any further', which were spoken by  Nathan.

With  my body now drenched in my own sweat, I feared the unknown. Soon the
unknown  became the known, as the horse began unleashing a river of piss. One of
the  slaves must have been directing the stream, as most of it struck me just
about  even with my nipple  line.

"Guess  we know what happens now", said one of the  slaves.

I  expected that someone was going to wipe the horse's dick off, much like I
did  yesterday; but that wasn't the case.

Who ever  had hold of the equine phallus simply rubbed it on each side of my
face; while  the slaves looked on in sheer happiness. There were muffled
sounds of joy coming  from a few of the slaves; which apparently was the signal for
Nathan to speak  up, saying; "The idea behind males used as sex slaves, is a
long standing  tradition in the world. It is not the intent of a slave owner
to simply use the  sex slave to satisfy his own bodily urges, but to explore a
universe of sex  which emanates in the mind of the sex slave's owner. Dog,
sheep, pig or horse;  regardless of the genetic makeup of the beast... many slave
owners have deep  seeded needs to witness the act between man and beast. It is
not a mere case of  abusive treatment, such as you've offered this slave
today. It should be looked  upon as a means to an end. An end, none of you slaves
will ever feel, in your  current life. A good and true sex slave would do
anything to please his master,  even if it strikes the slave as ill and  demented."

Nathan's words seemed to ring out with a bit of understandable and
uncompromising sense of slave loyalty; such as I'd never even thought about or  even
considered. I was definitely going to have to research such topics when I  had
the  opportunity.

I felt what I perceived as the head of the horses cock brush up and across my
 mouth over and over again. I could smell the remnants of piss as it passed
under  my nose. Soon, the cock slowed with each pass over my lips and I was
certain,  deadly sure, of what everyone was  expecting.


"*****************************************************"

I allowed myself to fall sideways, as the horse was led from the stall. I was
 still in shock as to what had just transpired, let alone the fact that I didn
't  seem to give a shit. All I could remember was someone whispering in my
ear  saying something that I'd said to somebody else just a day or two ago. "A
cock  is a cock, regardless of what it's attached  to".

"Best  you two get this whore cleaned up before he stinks up the whole
fucking barn",  barked one of the pony  slaves.

"WAIT!" shouted another. "Let the bitch clean up his own fucking mess first
and  then let them scrub  him".

My  limbs were released and my blindfold was removed; as my eyes began to
focus on  the slaves standing around me like Indians to a doomed wagon. Jordan
and John  Henry rose to their feet just as the circle of slaves bathed me one
final time  in their piss. I balled myself up into a fetal position, covering my
face from  the four or so slaves pissing on me. I saw Nathan standing off in
one corner,  dutifully recording the  event.

Jordan scooted out and brought a wheelbarrow into the stall and as the pony
slaves left laughing and patting each others ass; I began to use my hands to
pick up the piss soaked straw and place it into the wheelbarrow. Nathan left
shortly after I had started removing the straw, which seemed to motivate
Jordan  and John Henry; as they both dropped to the floor and began helping me with
my  task.

They  must have had to do this many times before, because they made sure that
even the  smallest shred of straw was picked up. John Henry quickly took the
wet straw  away and returned with a fresh bale. After spreading the straw,
they allowed me  to crawl to the shower area without replacing the  blindfold.

With diligence, yet a certain amount of caring and understanding, the two
slaves  began their task of getting me cleaned up. The warm water felt so
relaxing that  I didn't want it to stop. My mind continued reeling from what had just
happened,  yet I still had that carefree, care less, mindset. I was almost
certain that it  was from the effects of whatever it was that I'd ingested from
the bottle. I  struggled to get my mind free, back on track with my purpose
for even being here  this week. I tried to focus on family and friends, but that
was, in its self, a  hard thing to do.

The three  of us were still in the shower, when Doc appeared just beyond the
tiled floor.  He had a look of deep concern on his face. He called to John
Henry and the slave  followed Doc from the  barn.

I was  just about finished getting my intestines washed out for the third
time by the  time John Henry returned. John Henry looked as if he'd just been
handed a death  sentence; as his eyes were swollen and filled with tears. If I
hadn't been  kneeling on the floor, I would never have seen the look of
disappointment and  sadness on his  face.

As he  knelt beside me, I heard him tell Jordan that Doc wanted to speak with
him too.  Jordan left with a look of bewilderment, and  fear.

John  Henry was just about finished scrubbing between my butt cheeks when
Jordan  returned; looking as if a mirrored image of John Henry.

They both  remained stoic, yet they completed their task; as Doc stood idly
by watching the  three of us.

"Kevin, I'm sorry to have to say this, but I have to cut your experience
short.  Perhaps we can find the time for one more day before you leave us", Doc
said  with a solemn  voice.

"Get  Kevin's plug in and then we'll all go back down to the main house",
he said  turning and walking  away.

My own  face showed bewilderment and some degree of sadness, as I looked both
of the  slave's in the face. They could do nothing more than to embrace me,
as their  eyes once again began to release monumental amounts of tears; all
shed in total  silence.

I  was so distant from myself, feeling the pain of the two slaves, that I didn
't  even feel the huge plug seat itself inside my ass.

While they  walked towards the barn door, I crawled behind; noting the two of
them with  their arms over one another's shoulder and their free hands
grasping each of the  others.

Outside, sat Doc on the four wheeler.  He motioned for the three of us to
find a place to sit and then he slowly drove over the knoll and down towards the
 main house.

Nothing was said to me, and I could only assume that whatever created the
sadness amongst the two slaves was none of my concern; as the two of them sat
behind me, facing back away from me so that I couldn't see their faces. The
only  thing that kept me from questioning Doc was the fact that every little bump
in  the path bounced me just enough to keep reminding me that I had my ass
stuffed  with a large, horse tailed butt  plug.

The  looming house rapidly seemed more like a safe haven the closer we got;
and I  felt relieved once we finally came to a  stop.

With  all of us going in through the back gate, I saw the Housemaster, rise
up from a  chair and move towards the two slaves. I watched in a rather solemn
way, as the  three men exchanged  hugs.

I  knew, that it had to be late; but nonetheless, the housekeeper came out
with a  tray of refreshments.

With the  exception of the housekeeper, we all found a vacant chair in which
to sit and  enjoy a cool drink; even Jordan and John  Henry.

As  the glasses emptied, the Housemaster suggested that the two slaves might
want to  relax a few minutes in the pool before retiring. Still remaining
silent they got  up and walked down the few steps into the pool; leaning against
the wall with  their backs towards the free  men.

We  three watched, as the slaves once again embraced one another. I could
easily  detect the sounds of sobbing and was now even more perplexed as to the
reason  for such a display of  affection.

I  turned towards Doc, looking as if I was waiting for and expecting an
explanation  for the sudden turn of  events.

"Any  explanation must come from the slaves" Doc said in a somber voice. "
They have  about an hour before their `free speech' time is over".

That said,  Doc rose from his chair, followed by the Housemaster. The
housekeeper refilled  my glass, and she too followed the free men into the  house.

I  continued sitting there, watching the two slaves; wondering beyond
imagination  what it could be that brought about their  sadness.

Lifting myself from the chair, I quietly moved over to the pool steps and
began  descending into the tepid waters. I paid no attention to my butt plug nor
the  tail, as it seemed to float up to the top of the  water.

I  kept my distance from the slaves, regardless of how bad I felt that I
needed to  know the reason or reasons for their  tears.

They  must have sensed my presence in the pool, as both turned to face me and
then  began to walk towards me in the darkness of the night air.

To Be  Continued...