Date: Fri, 11 Aug 2006 14:50:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: The Fate of a Poor Man's Son, part 13

THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, PART 13


By Master Redbeard
The rest of the summer


This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between
males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for
this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age
is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this
story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to
read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better
if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are
someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get
some help.


I welcome reader response (no flames). Include name of the story in title
line. You can reach me at email address below.


- - - - - - - - - -

THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, chapter 13

By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo dot com)


Which is worse physical pain or dehumanizing degradation? Not that anyone
ever gave me a choice. I was subjected to both. When I woke up to daylight
the morning after the captain's party, I felt the blinding pain from my
recently circumcised penis. But I knew that just a few hours earlier, when
I was tossed onto the pool table for hours of sexual abuse, I wasn't even
aware of the searing pain from the surgical procedure.


Rye was beside me wiping my forehead with a damp cloth when I awoke. I
looked around disoriented. I was in the small cage where Rye and I
slept. He put the nipple of a water bottle to my lips and encouraged me to
drink. "It has vitamins and also an analgesic for the pain." Then he told
me I could stay in bed. "Until your circumcision heals you only have to
work a few hours a day," he assured me.


As I sucked on the nipple of the water bottle I found myself thinking how
kind my masters were. I was a slave, after all. Any master would expect a
full day of hard labor from every slave. But my masters were allowing me
extra time to rest.


Then my brain rebelled at the thought. They were allowing me just a few
extra hours to try to recuperate from the pain caused by the circumcision
they had forced upon me, the knife wielded by the sadistic man whom I had
once looked up to when he was my high school coach, a crowd of dirty old
men looking on and reveling in my agony. I tried to feel anger at my
masters for all they'd put me through. But I continued sucking on the water
bottle and before I could fully form the thought I was once again asleep.


For the next three days, although there was a lot of work to do cleaning up
and dismantling the remnants of the big party, I wasn't made to do any work
around the grounds. I also wasn't called upon for sexual service. My only
duties were helping Rye in the bathing and grooming of other household
slaves. Meanwhile, Rye was solicitous in changing the bandages and putting
ointment on my surgically-scarred penis. At one point he softly told me
that the same thing had been done to him, also in front of an audience,
except he had been even younger when his foreskin was removed. But when I
asked questions about his experience, he refused to discuss it further.


On the fourth day things were back to normal - well as normal as they'd be
for me as a slave on the Winston estate. Within another week I had an
all-over tan from working around the grounds nude. I lost track of which
nights I serviced the captain and which nights I serviced Brad. It was only
when both the father and older brother were out of the house that Randy
dared to have me come to his room. My sessions fucking Randy's ass were so
different from anything I experienced with the other Winston men I knew
they had to be kept secret.


As weeks went by I also began developing friendly relationships with some
of the other slaves, the ones I was frequently shaving and cleaning. One
boy named Scott was just a year older than me. He had dark eyes and dark
hair and a lean swimmer's body. It turned out Scott had also been on his
school's swim team and we had both been at the state championships two
years earlier. Scott's father had a gambling problem and the boy was
philosophical about the fact that he had been enslaved because of the older
man's debts.


It seems Scott had been the captain's favorite prior to my arrival and the
dark-eyed swimmer was grateful that I had provided a break from his sexual
services. But when I was recuperating from my circumcision, Scott was
pulled back into daily service. After that, the captain and Brad rotated
between me, Scott and a few other boys for their pleasure.


One night Scott came down from the captain's rooms at a very late hour. Rye
and I joked with him about having endured a long fucking session, but Scott
shook his head. He whispered that the captain had fallen asleep with his
fat cock deep inside the slave boy's ass. When the captain woke up, he
pushed Scott out of his bed and sent him on the way, so Scott had
experienced hours of being filled with a thick cock, but virtually no
fucking.


I'm not sure how the conversation turned the way it did, but soon enough
Scott was bent over and guiding my erection into his already-spread
asshole. Rye had explained that if any slave had fucked Scott before the
boy's session with the captain there would have been hell to pay (and at
least one slave flayed with a whip). But after a boy left the captain's
chambers, any slave was welcome to "sloppy seconds."


As my hard cock slid easily into Scott's ass, I looked down at his broad
shoulders and tapered torso. I remembered seeing him in his Speedos
competing in the state swimming championships. I had been a Speedo-clad
underclassman in the same competition where he was a senior. But now we
were both slave boys - sex slaves to be exact.


Scott's ass gripped my cock firmly. I was a little surprised he wasn't more
stretched out, but I suppose the hole and chute beyond it are elastic and
had snapped back into shape. I was afraid I would shoot my load too
quickly, but I took a few deep breaths and then plunged in. In the back of
my mind a little voice was protesting, "I'm straight!" But that voice was
soon drowned out by the squishy rhythm of my quickly sliding cock.


When I came deep inside Scott I was able to forget for a moment that I was
a slave. I was a teenage boy with a hard cock that was pulsating and
shooting cream deep into a tight hole. Then my head cleared. I looked down
and saw Scott's SIN number tattooed across his ass cheek. I saw Scott's
collar reflecting the ceiling lights. I looked to the side and saw Rye
stroking his cock. At that moment, Rye's sperm landed all over my chest and
Scott's back.


The following night when I was called to the captain's rooms, I found him
watching his widescreen television. He grinned at me and then looked back
at the screen. The image of me fucking Scott was larger than life. I
couldn't blame Scott. He had only been following orders, as any slave
must. He had been told to make sure I fucked him up the ass. He had even
been told exactly where in the slave bathing room it should be done for the
best camera angles.


Of course the captain didn't know that I had already fucked his younger son
Randy a half dozen times. As far as my master knew, my experience with
Scott was the first time I fucked a boy up the ass - also the first time I
had ever fucked. Knowing how deadly it would be if the secret of my
sessions dominating the submissive Randy was ever revealed, I went along
with Captain Winston's assertion that Scott had been my first fuck.


That was the night when the captain's verbal humiliation of me hit a new
level. Actually, the captain made me the tool of my own verbal
humiliation. I had a lot of new phrases to learn. From that day forward I
would be a "queer pussyboy," "hot for throbbing man meat," with a
"dick-hungry cunt" and a "cocksucking homo mouth." I learned to sound
convincing as I told the captain (and soon enough Brad) that I was "made to
service real men" like them and that I "need to be fucked hard and long and
to worship free man pricks."


Although I had only been a slave for a few weeks, I took this latest round
of humiliation in stride. Being ordered to swallow my master's piss was the
same as being ordered to scrub the bathroom floor with a small handheld
brush. It was all part of my humiliating duties.


In fact after leaving the captain's room that night I made plans to
reassure Scott the following day that I didn't hold any grudge against
him. He had offered me his ass to fuck, it turned out, only on orders from
our master. But none of us had any choice. In fact, I found it oddly
amusing.


The following morning when I awoke I took inventory and doublechecked for
cleanliness in the bathing room. The large windows of that room looked out
on a broad driveway that was only used for deliveries to the slave barracks
or through the slave entrance to the house.


There was an open-backed truck parked in the driveway. I looked out and saw
a cage on the truck with Scott inside it facing the window. His hands were
cuffed to the back of his collar and he was chained within the cage so that
he couldn't move his body. There was a ballgag in his mouth, the kind with
holes in it so a slave can still breathe.


I was stunned, frozen on the spot. Rye entered and grabbed me by the arm to
see what was wrong. Then he looked out the window and saw what I'd reacted
to. He urged me to turn away. I stammered, "B-but I thought the captain
l-liked Scott. Did Scott do anything wrong?"


Rye rubbed my neck and softly said, "I heard some talk that the captain was
going to give a gift to seal a business contract. I guess that Japanese
industrialist liked Scott." Rye urged me to get back to work. I kept
glancing at Scott in the truck. How many hours did they need to keep that
truck parked right in that spot? At one point I thought Scott had made eye
contact with me through the window and I raised my hand in a thumb's up
sign to him. I wasn't sure if I saw tears in Scott's eyes or just a glassy
expression. Finally the truck drove away.


"You've heard the phrase 'You can't be friends with a slave,' right?" Rye
asked, putting an arm around my shoulders. "That's not only true for free
men. Between slaves - well, you never know when your master may sell you or
lease you or give you away or simply move you somewhere else."


I wrapped my arms around Rye and hugged myself so tight against his large
body. I had lost so much. I lost my father and my brother. I lost my
friends and my education. I lost the respect of everyone in my hometown and
I'd lost all respect for myself. I lost my freedom. With all that loss, Rye
had come to mean a great deal to me. But I knew he was right. I knew I
could easily lose him based on the whims of our masters.


That night I was fucked by the captain and gave a quick blowjob to
Brad. When I returned to the small cage I shared with Rye, I snuggled up
against him. It was our habit to masturbate each other. Often we would suck
each other as well. But on this night I turned my back to him. I reached
behind me and took hold of his erect cock sliding it in my ass crack. Rye
kissed me on the neck and asked, "Are you sure, Wally?" I simply pushed my
ass back against him.


I had been fucked so many times on the order of my masters, but now I was
freely offering my ass. I invited Rye to fuck me that night and it was
great. He started off by taking me from behind. Then he flipped me on my
back. He fucked me face-to-face, kissing and caressing me in a loving
way. I gave myself to him as if we were lovers. I suppose, in a way, we
were lovers.


That night I slept very peacefully. Rye had been telling me that slaves
needed to learn to live in the moment. I put everything out of my mind. I
forced myself to forget that at any time Rye and I could be separated and I
would never see him again. I just enjoyed that moment, feeling his strong
arms holding me against his powerful chest.


One week blended into the next as the summer progressed. I had lost all
track of the date or days of the week. What did it matter what day it was?
I was still a slave.


Then one night as I was being cleaned inside and out, Rye told me that I
would be providing after dinner entertainment for the captain's guests. I
looked at Rye, swallowed hard and asked, "What does that mean?"


He wouldn't meet my eyes. He kept very busy as he explained that I would be
given a costume to wear, that there would be other slaves, and that he
would narrate a story for us to act out. "B-but, w-what kind of story?" I
blurted out.


"I don't know that, Wally," he said calmly. "And even if I did know I
couldn't tell you."


Clad in only my white slave briefs, Rye led me to a backstage area. I
looked through a curtain. There was a well-lit stage with comfortable
chairs, couches and divans forming a semi-circle in front of it.


I was startled by the appearance of two enormous ebony pony slaves beside
me. I had to crane my neck to look up since each of them was at least a
foot taller than me. One black pony grinned down at me while the other one
remained expressionless. The smiling pony said, "I am Tar and my buddy here
is called Pitch. Don't mind Pitch. He got his vocal chords cut so I do all
the talking."


There was a musical lilt to Tar's voice that told me he was from Africa. I
had never seen skin so black as on these two towering figures. If their
size and color wasn't enough to be intimidating, each was decorated all
over with geometric tattoos and what appeared to be cuttings in their
flesh. Each of them wore a mesh pouch that could barely contain their
oversized genitals.


"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to stare."


Tar let out a hearty laugh and Pitch opened his mouth as if laughing, even
though no sound was emitted. But then Tar became very serious. He moved
close to me and talked softly as he said, "Look, boy, we are not bad
men. But there are things we will do out there... to play out the
scene...."


"Then you know what scene the captain wants us to play?"


"It changes each time, boy. At least the costume and the characters
change. Oh, sometimes he'll repeat a favorite scene. But... well... all the
scenes end up with..." Tar looked at Pitch and then looked back to me. He
didn't need to finish the sentence. I knew that, for the entertainment of
the captain's dinner guests, I was going to be raped by the two Africans. I
had been fucked plenty of times. But as I looked at the pouches each of
these slaves wore, my mouth went dry. Each black cock looked literally as
thick around as my arm.


Pitch tapped his partner on the shoulder and made some movements with his
hands. Tar turned back to me and said, "Please also remember that for
us... well, we are kept with the other ponies, all big brutes like
us. These entertainments for the captain are the only times we get to be
with someone... to be with a boy like you, so tender and young and pretty."
Pitch's fingers moved down my arm sensually. A tingling went through me and
I automatically pulled away.


It was as if they were waiting for me to say something. But what could I
say? Tar continued, "One time the captain had Scott dress up in a gym
uniform from his old high school. We were each dressed in sweats like we
were coaches. There were lockers and benches on the stage." Pitch made some
gestures at Tar who nodded and went on, "The most humiliating was when we
were supposed to be African natives, some kind of cannibals...." I could
tell from the way he spoke that Tar was well educated. But all that
education didn't matter now. He was a pony slave.


Rye came backstage and handed each of us our outfits. I was given a grey
prison uniform, including grey boxer shorts. Pitch would be dressed the
same. Tar was given dark grey slacks with a light grey shirt and a black
tie. He was even given black shoes and striped boxer shorts to wear as well
as a guard's cap. It was clear that Pitch and I were going to be prisoners
while Tar would play the role of a prison guard.


Rye whispered to me explaining that he would be reading the story and it
was up to the three of us to act out the scene. "You're allowed to speak as
long as it's in character." There was sadness in his eyes as he turned away
and went out onto the stage.


I heard Rye's voice starting the scene. "There was a boy who got in trouble
with the law. He was so young and cute but he had a free boy attitude,
typical of many spoiled brat teenagers. So the guard at the county jail
decided to teach the boy a lesson." (Yes, the script had definitely been
written by Captain Winston!)


Tar's powerful hand was on my neck leading me onto the stage. I glanced out
at the audience. There was Mr. Blank - I used to baby-sit for his twin
sons. Beside him was Coach Baker, the head of the athletic program at my
high school and the man who had performed my circumcision.


Then I looked around the stage. There were two cots and a wall of bars
behind them, as if this was a prison cell - well actually it looked more
like a stage set of a prison cell. Pitch stood watching as Tar pushed me
into the mock cell. I looked from one to the other.


The three of us acted out the scene as Rye read through it. I was ordered
to show my ass and begged the black men not to make me do it. When I was
bent over and my hairless cheeks revealed, there were cheers from the men
in the audience. Those evil pigs in the town! They were cheering and
laughing and encouraging my rape!


Granted, we were playing out a scene, but soon enough it became all too
real for me. Those African cocks were half again as large as any cocks I'd
had before. It was very real as I tried to push Pitch away from my
mouth. Why was I even expending the effort trying to push the man away? He
weighed twice what I did, with muscles more powerful than my scrawny body
could hope to develop. It was hopeless. And yet I suppose there is a
survival instinct. Barely half his cock went down my throat and I gagged
fully believing I would choke on it.


That was nothing compared to the scream I let out when Tar's thick black
tool went all the way into my asshole. I was howling and sobbing, "Take it
out. Please, I can't take it." I turned in the direction of the
audience. In between my sobs, I saw that men were rubbing their erections,
laughing and snickering with each other. My pain and degradation was a turn
on for these bastards!


Finally my ordeal came to an end. The audience applauded
enthusiastically. Tar and Pitch pulled me to my feet to face the free men
who had enjoyed our performance. Tears were still streaming down my cheeks
as the captain announced, "Well, needless to say the boy's asshole won't be
much fun to us normal-sized men" (chuckles from the audience). "But his
throat should be nicely warmed up."


Rye led me offstage into the audience and Coach Baker was the first to
shove his cock in my mouth. It took him less than two minutes to feed his
load of cum down my throat. I figured he had been very aroused at seeing me
raped onstage. As he pulled his cock out of me, Coach Baker called to the
captain, "Hey, if you ever decide to redo that locker room scene with Wally
here as the star, I could play the coach and make it real authentic." Then
he laughed at his own joke.


I lost count of how many cocks I sucked that night. But when everyone else
was done and most of the guests had departed, I was dragged by my collar to
a back corner of the big room. I could smell the man as we approached. I
could hear the ugly rasp of his breathing. I didn't need to glance up. I
knew that the mountain of flesh filling up the big chair was Judge
Snow. His stomach was round as a globe and protruded. His thighs were
massive. Yet somehow he managed to spread his legs and lean his body back
so that his hard cock stuck up stiff in front of me.


The huge man was pulling his hairy balls out of his fly. He grabbed my
collar and pushed my face to his fat testicles. I started licking and had
to use all my willpower to keep from gagging. Did this man ever shower?
There was a sour smell from his crotch. And my tongue seemed to be licking
up layers of cheesy sweat from his balls. Judge Snow wheezed loudly and he
had a laugh that was more of a cackle.


For an instant I wondered how a man in such poor health could sport such a
stiff erection. But then I remembered Rye's warning - there were so many
pills that men could take these days to keep their erections for as long as
they liked. That must have been the case with the judge.


My lips were going numb from moving up and down his pole when the judge
finally grunted and his cock pulsed a few times. There was just a trickle
of watery cum in my mouth, but I slurped loudly and made a big show of
swallowing. Rye had also taught me that men like these needed their egos
boosted especially when other men were watching. I pretended to be choking
on a volume of spunk that did not exist. Then I slid my mouth off the old
man's cock, licked it clean, and put it away. The room was quiet. I sensed
I was done for the night.


The judge wheezed and coughed and then said, "Captain, you'll have to loan
me this little one. He's so slim and looks so young. He's a real delight."


Captain Winston offhandedly remarked, "Sorry, chum, but I actually bought
the boy for Brad as a campus frat house slave. I'm afraid this will be his
only performance with us before being shipped off to the university."


Slaves are never told anything about their master's plans. I'm sure that
when Scott was chained up in that cage he had no advance warning and he had
no idea what fate held in store for him. But I had just learned what was in
store for my future. I remembered Brad and the captain both saying that I
was Brad's property.


All my life I had dreamed about going away to college or university. I had
counted the years and months. I had worked so hard to get good grades and
to excel at sports in hopes that I might get to a high-class university
where I'd mingle with the sons of the rich and powerful. It was August
now. This would have been the time when I would have become a college
freshman. Well, I was going away to a fancy university after all. I would
live in the coolest frat house at that university with college guys who
were destined to become leaders of our country. But I would be there as a
slave to scrub their toilets and suck their cocks.