Date: Mon, 11 Oct 2004 23:03:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Four The Same, Part One

FOUR THE SAME    by Pete Brown    petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part One

Usually my business keeps me tied to my desk in
London, but just occasionally a client is of such
importance to us that I need to travel to visit him.
Such a client is Sheikh Rashid who places substantial
business with us, and I sometimes think that almost
all of the staggering oil wealth from his tiny kingdom
passes through our hands.  The Sheikh rarely, if ever,
leaves his palace, and having been there it is perhaps
not so surprising:  every conceivable luxury is there,
ultra high-speed links give him instantaneous access
to his people around the globe, and what is not
already there can be rushed to him, to satisfy any
possible whim, within a very few hours.

One of the reasons why my bank is so successful is
that we cater to the demands of our important rich
clients.  Nothing is too much trouble.  And we are
very conscious of their need for privacy, and of their
customs.  So when I visit Sheikh Rashid I am
extraordinarily careful about not crossing my legs
when sitting, about not using my left hand for
anything (even though, like so many talented, creative
people I am naturally strongly left-handed), and with
agreeing to any suggestions from my host with
enthusiasm.

After our business had been concluded there was the
usual sumptuous banquet in my honour, attended by all
the Sheikh's personal advisors, and the after dinner
entertainment was a staggering display of gymnastics,
to music, given by a troupe of fifteen lithe young
men, all of whom performed totally naked for our
pleasure.  The Sheikh told me that they were all
assorted Rumanians, Czechs and Poles who had not been
quite good enough for their countries' Olympic teams,
and who had therefore chosen to use their skills in
these displays, so that they could, within a very
short period of time, retire as wealthy men.

There is something very erotically exciting about the
Slavic races, I always think, and these young men were
almost classic examples of their types with their dark
blond hair (not that you could see much of it as their
head hair was all very short and their pubic hair had
been neatly trimmed), blue eyes, and compact, muscular
bodies.  It was an entrancing sight, and, like the
Sheikh and his other guests, I was literally on the
edge of my seat with the erotic excitement of it all,
as their sweaty bodies, glinting in the light from the
crystal chandeliers, slid over each other.

The Sheikh clearly saw my interest, and offered to
arrange for me to sleep with any of them who appealed
to me particularly - all that was required was a
further payment, he told me, and any of these men, who
had already agreed to prostitute their bodies for
public display, would gladly oblige in this further
way - he even hinted that I would probably be the
first man to slide his dick up the hard, muscular
asses of many of the men, who did not mind appearing
naked but who maintained that they were "straight".  I
turned down his offer, as I could see that there would
be a potentially difficult situation about this
payment - if he, as my host, paid, I would be under an
obligation to him and would have to find some way of
recompensing him in future:  I felt certain that his
would take the form of a "better deal"  on some piece
of business we were transacting, and, as a senior
officer of the Bank, I would, in all conscience, find
it difficult to agree.   On the other hand, if I paid,
he might feel slighted and, in any event,  I would
probably have difficulty in justifying such a payment
to the auditors who examine the expenses of even the
most senior people.  I therefore laughingly declined
his kind offer, offering as an explanation that as I
had just had my sixtieth birthday I did not feel able
to keep up with the kind of rigorous sexual athletics
that going with such a young man would require.

"My dear friend", he said laughing at my evident
discomfort, "I can understand you.  Although you do
appear to be in excellent condition for your age,
perhaps it is the long flight that has tired you.  Let
me instead pick out for you a special companion for
tonight, one of my own slaves:  there is then no
question of the man doing it only for money, and if he
should displease you in any way, or tire you too much,
we can have him flogged in the morning as we
breakfast.  I'm sure you will find the ministrations
of a trained sex slave will help you sleep more
easily, and, if you wish, you need do nothing as the
slave can, if you desire, simply ride your member as
you lie there admiring his body."

This seemed to be such an admirable resolution to a
potentially otherwise difficult problem that I readily
agreed, especially as it would not have been at all
polite to scorn my host's kind offer of this
exceptional form of hospitality - it was, I knew, rare
for one of the Sheikh's renowned pleasure slaves to be
offered to an "outsider".

Waiting for me in my room after I had made my
"goodnights" to my host, was a slave with the most
stunning body I have ever seen - he was about six foot
two, heavily, but not overly, muscled, and his dark
tanned skin simply glowed with health.  He was smiling
with his even white teeth from his handsome face as I
entered the room, and at once fell to his knees and
bowed his forehead to the floor at my feet.  I just
could not help but be excited by the sight of his
backbone standing proud from his lean musculature,
leading from his powerful neck down to disappear into
his ass crack, from whence his wide, muscular buttocks
started to flare to frame his lovely thighs and legs.
Backbones that stand out from the flesh are always a
particular pleasure for me somehow:  of course a man
with a good back but an indented trough can be
exciting, too, if he's otherwise well muscled, but for
me, the sight of the bones under the skin adds that
little extra frisson of excitement when I am about to
discover a new body.  Almost the only thing to mar
this perfection was that his body was shaved totally
smooth - everywhere:  his head, crotch and arms and
legs were all as smooth as the palms of his hands, and
even his eyebrows were none-existent.

Once I had told him to get up, he helped me undress
and we indulged in a little foreplay - he was skilled
at kissing, and at teasing my dick and nipples to get
me totally aroused.  And, dear reader, before you send
me a flood of e-mails asking if I really was too tired
to fuck this delicious morsel, the answer is of course
no.  I decided to take him in the missionary position,
and it was a particular pleasure to look down at his
face framed by his muscular legs, and to see the
muscles in his six-pack belly ripple as I had my way
with him.  I must confess though that thirty minutes
later I did lack the energy to again amuse myself with
him, and although I was rampantly erect, I simply did
not want to stir from lying down. I was in that state
of happy contemplation of the world that only comes
when one is truly satisfied:  I had done substantial
good business with the Sheikh, and had this enjoyable
bout of sexual release with such a stunning piece of
male flesh.  Regrettably, I find that in London young
men with strong, virile bodies seem to shy away from
sex with men of my age, as they do not understand how
years of experience, and a high intelligence, can
enhance the encounter.

The man was skilled at pleasing his companion,
however, and seeing my erection simply straddled my
body and "rode" me to a second magnificent climax - he
did all the work, and held his hands clasped behind
his neck as his powerful thighs pushed his body up and
down over me.  I always like to see a man's
musculature at work, and I had the double joy of
watching his thighs stretching and contracting, and
his belly muscles rippling, emphasised as they were by
his upper body stance, as he worked away.

He would of course have continued indefinitely, but
two orgasms before sleep is sufficient for me these
days.  I did however command him to sleep with me, as
it is only rarely that  I have an opportunity to wrap
myself around a strong, virile young man all night
long.  Whether it was the journey, or the alcohol
(although not drinking himself, my host never stinted
his guests the fine champagne and classic wines that
were served at his banquets), I woke at around three
in the morning, and had that sensation of which no man
ever tires - my dick was erect and nestling
comfortably in the warm, moist crack between my
companion's delightful buttocks.

He clearly had been well trained, as the moment I
stirred he gently turned to face me and whispered
"Master, shall we have sex again, to help you sleep?"


Why do men whisper, I wonder, at such times?  We were
alone, with no-one to hear, and we could have spoken
normally.  But I suppose a whisper helps reinforce
that sense of intimacy that you have when you are
together totally naked.

Delightful though the prospect was, I knew I had much
business to transact the following day, and I needed
to be on my mettle:  I find that an overindulgence in
sex, good though it is at the time, tends to take the
sharp edge off me, and so I declined.  Sleep would not
come, however, and after tossing and turning in his
strong arms for some minutes, he asked me if I would
prefer to talk instead - clearly, this was a most
superior slave, if he felt confident in being able to
amuse his master's guests with conversation:  like me,
almost all the men he would come into contact with
would, after all, be experienced men of the world,
with high intellects and sharp intelligence.

Never the less we did start to talk, and naturally I
was interested in his background as I could not
imagine how such a beautiful man, with his perfect
English and obvious personality, had ended up as a sex
slave in the Sheikh's palace.  His story, as he told
it to me, is so extraordinary that I feel I can do no
better than simply transcribe it as it was told to me.


THE SLAVE'S STORY

At first I couldn't figure out where I was, or why I
was there.  The last thing I remembered was going for
a drink with this woman I'd met, then going back to
her place.  I remembered feeling faint, and now here I
was - in some sort of cell.  What the fuck had I done
to get here?

I didn't get an explanation either when my cell door
opened and three guards came in and told me to follow
them.  They had those words in English, but the rest
of the time they spoke to themselves in some
weird-sounding language  They led me (forced me?)
Along a series of corridors and stairways

We came into an enormous room - all marble floors and
gold decorations, with rows of pillars down each side.
 At the far end, surrounded by more of the guards, was
a guy in what I always think of as 'traditional' Arab
dress.  Just in front of him were three other men,
all, like me, in "normal" Western style dress - Jeans,
slacks, and one in what looked like army fatigues.  It
didn't strike me at the time, but perhaps I should
have noticed even then - all the three guys were like
me, tall and well muscled.  In a group of guys, my
height usually makes me stand out a bit as I kind of
get used to being  a few inches taller than the rest.
But these three guys were the same height as me, and
as the guards pushed me close to them, we seemed to
almost tower over them.

I started to shout, demanding to know why I was there,
and for my trouble was clubbed in the back by one of
the guards with the stock of his rifle, and I fell to
the ground.  The three guys came over and helped me to
my feet, and we all stood there, looking at the guy at
the front.

"You men have been brought here to my palace for my
amusement and pleasure", he began.

All of us now started to shout and protest, and he
snapped "Silence!  Remain silent, unless you want my
guards to beat you."

The guards standing around us looked threatening and
half-advanced on us with their rifles, and we fell
silent, standing there looking at the chief honcho.

"That's better.  The first lesson you must learn as my
slaves is to remain silent, unless you are asked a
direct question.  Slaves, like children in olden
times, should be seen, and not heard, I believe."

The guy in the combat fatigues started to shout "Cut
the crap!  There's no such thing as a slave these
days.  What the fuck's going on....."

A signal from the chief honcho to the guards had its
effect, however, and he was clubbed to the floor,
where he lay groaning in agony.

"Let that be a lesson on to you.  I will be obeyed,
and you will obey.  You will remain silent until you
are commanded to speak.  And, for the benefit of your
colleagues, one of whom has started to learn that
lesson,  and has already felt  the effects of my
wrath, let me say that you are wrong:   there
assuredly is slavery.  Here in my kingdom there always
has been, ever since ancient times, and it is such an
excellent institution that I see no reason to change
it.  There is no substitute for a ruler like me being
able to command slaves to obey his every whim, and to
order appropriate punishments for them if they fail.
You will all learn that, some quickly, and some will
take a little longer, but learn it you will, as my
control is absolute and my punishments are swift and
painful."

"You have been brought here for one purpose, and one
purpose only", he continued.  "That is to amuse me.  I
tire of the endless problems that running this kingdom
causes me - the petty internal problems, the pressure
from large, powerful nations to reform, the endless
bickering about the US bases I allow on our territory
and the constant negotiations about the price of our
oil....   So I need a little relaxation.  I have tired
of 'playing' with my own slaves, even though I have
several hundred of them working in my palaces and
toiling on my estates and in my quarries and my mines,
and I need a little more stimulation."

"My cousin, with whom I have always had a friendly
rivalry since we were at boarding school together in
England many years ago, recently acquired a pair of
twins - identical twins.  He was browsing one of those
mildly pornographic websites that you Westerners are
so fond of and saw pages and pages devoted to pictures
of brothers and twins.  He found the whole concept so
exciting, and so exotic, that he ordered the 'taking'
of  a pair of identical twins - two Australians, I
believe, and had them enslaved to serve in his
pleasure rooms. I have to say they are very exotic -
two identical men, and handsome ones, too.  Having two
men who grew up together in that intimacy only twins
could share perform sex with you is so different -
they know each others bodies ad minds so well that
they can properly focus on mine."

"Of course I cannot allow him to triumph in this way,
so I am going to go one better, or, rather, two
better.  You four men are going to become my slaves,
identical slaves, perfectly matched."

The four of us captives looked at each other, and what
he said seemed to be absolutely crazy:  although, as
I've told you, we were all the same height and general
build, we were so dissimilar in almost every other
way.  I had dark black hair, wiry, whereas one of the
guys was a redhead, another had longish blond hair,
and the guy in military fatigues was a kind of brown.
There was just no way we could be taken for identical
twins, let alone quads!  We all started to protest,
kind of taking comfort in being together, I suppose,
and the man in front snapped  "Silence!  I will not
tell you again.  The next man to make a noise, or a
disturbance of any kind, will be taken out to my
flogging frame and given twenty lashes."

I suppose that made us stop and think - he hadn't
hesitated to have us clubbed to the ground, after all.
We stood there, shifting our weight warily, trying to
make some kind of sense of what was being said.

The chief went on "Of course now you all look
dissimilar, but I have been assured by my agents that
in all important respects you are alike.  Important
measurements, like the length of your inside leg,  the
size of your feet, and your underlying bone structure
around your hips and chest, are all the same.  Some of
you are currently a little more muscular than the
others, and some of you have, regrettably, got some
incipient signs of a fat belly developing  But a
strenuous exercise program will fix all that, and as
the underlying structure is the same, we will soon
have the outer body the same, too."

"You may have noticed that you all look alike
facially, too - although perhaps you have not.  Your
very different hair colours, and hair styles, again
mask the underlying basic similarity, and I have plans
to remedy things in this area, too.  So you see, after
a proper period of training, and some adjustments, I
will have four identical slaves."

It was the guy in military fatigues who spoke up
again.   Perhaps he was used to being clubbed by
rifles.

"You're fucking mad!  You can't take four men like us
away from our normal lives without someone
noticing.... As soon as my unit notices I'm missing,
they'll search... And I'm sure these other guys have
got wives, mothers....."

"Ah, sergeant, as I believe you have, or, rather had,
that rank in your army... How wrong you are.  Your
commanding officer will find a note from you saying
that you are sickened by war and have deserted.  In
the circumstances, I believe it is not your army's
policy to hunt down those who it considers to be
cowardly deserters.  And the rest of you - well,
you'll know better than I.  One of you has never
settled into a stable relationship, one is recently
divorced, acrimoniously, and his ex-wife will make no
effort to trace him.... And as you were all taken from
different places, at different times, I doubt if
anyone will ever link yo together.  No, you had better
all accept that for the rest of your lives you are my
slaves, and will live your lives here in my country,
in my palaces and on my estates.  At least, that is,
until I tire of you, and then, who knows.... I may
sell you to other owners here, and some of them might
allow you to travel.  But, for the time being,
reconcile yourselves to life as a slave, here.  The
sooner you do, the easier it will be for all of you."

We all started to shout again, and this time we were
shown no mercy.  Within seconds we were all writhing
on the floor, groaning from where the butts of rifles
had brutally clubbed us.

"Right, slaves.  Strip.  I want to make a closer
inspection of your bodies."

The four of us looked at each other, and we might, I
suppose, have protested.  But the surrounding guards
looked so menacing that, reluctantly, we started to
remove our clothing.  Finally, we stood there, two in
boxers, and two in briefs.

"I said 'strip'", the head man commanded.  "I will not
tell you slaves again that I will be obeyed, obeyed
first time, obeyed completely, without argument.  Now,
we are all men together - what are you ashamed of?
Remove those last vestiges of your garments, so that I
can verify that the photographs I have already seen of
all of you are accurate.  It is perhaps indicative of
the effort I have already put into this project that
not only did my agents scour the world for four
basically similar men, but they then had to get nude
photographs of you - from prostitutes (yes, I'm sad to
say, one of you pays for sex), at your sports club,
and so on."

We still stood there, kind of looking at each other,
and now the chief seemed to be really angry.  "I will
not tolerate this!  What on earth is the problem you
men are experiencing?  As I said, we are all men
together.  And you are all used to being naked with
other men, at your clubs, in the barracks.... But you
forget, too, that you are now slaves.  And, most
importantly, a slave has no secrets from his master.
You are my property, and if I wish to see you naked,
so that I can inspect my property, then I will.  There
can be no shame in a slave submitting to his master's
inspection, can there?  Now, before I order you all
out to the flogging frame, strip!"

We all looked at each other again, and the army guy
kind of shrugged, and pushed his boxers down and
stepped out of them.  We all did the same then, and
stood there on the cool marble floor.  It felt really
odd - I'm no prude, and I play a lot of sport, so I'm
used to other guys seeing me naked.  But normally
they're naked, too, as we're changing before or after
a game.  But standing there in that huge, airy room,
surrounded by guards who were all dressed, was really
odd.  And although I'd heard the words form my master,
they somehow didn't seem to make sense - all this
master, slave, inspection crap.  Was it all an
elaborate joke?  Was some TV game show host about to
burst in saying "smile for the cameras"?

But no.  We all stood there, not really knowing what
to do.  I suppose your instinctive reaction is to try
to cover your nakedness, isn't it?  You want the
comfort of your big hands cupping your dick and balls.
 I'm sure I'd have done that if any of the others had,
but, as it was, we all just stood there, feeling
slightly foolish.

"Excellent", the chief, who I suppose I was now
thinking of as "master", said.  "Look at each other,
and marvel at how similar you are.  Once you have all
been exercised, some of you have lost a little weight,
some of you have put on a little more muscle.... You
will be near clones.  Of course, there is one thing
that has to be fixed - only two of you are Americans,
and so were circumcised at birth, whereas the other
two still have their foreskins.  But that's easily
fixed, and, even if I did not want to make you clones
of each other, it is anyway my policy for all slaves
here to be 'skinned as I do not like the concept of a
slave hiding his dick head form his master."

"Now, you may have many questions, but as I have told
you, slaves do not question,  Their only role is to
obey.  So now the guards will take you away, and your
new life will begin.  I have allowed my slave trainers
six weeks to complete the task I have set for them,
and when you are next back in this room I expect you
all to be very, very different."

He made a kind of dismissive gesture with his hand, an
the guards stated to herd us together, and towards the
huge doors at the end.  We went to pick up our
clothes, but they pushed us on, so we were totally
naked as we left the chamber and went along the
numerous corridors and staircases of what must be an
enormous building.  We passed lots of people going
about their business - servants carrying trays of food
and piles of bed linen, men waving papers, others on
mobile phones, gabbling away, but they hardly seemed
to notice us.  It was as if it was a perfectly normal,
regular occurrence to have naked men going along the
corridors of the place!

As we progressed through the place, the "scenery"
gradually changed:  the wide airy corridors, lined
with marble, gradually became narrower and plastered,
then these in turn became even more utilitarian as the
walls seemed to become just building blocks, covered
in a layer of paint.  The lighting changed, too, from
sumptuous crystal chandeliers through concealed
spotlights to bare fluorescent tubes.  At one point
the corridor was barred by a sliding gate that
completely filled it, and the guards stopped, pressed
a button, and looked up at a video camera in the
ceiling.  There was a grinding sound, and the gate
slid aside to allow us to enter, and as we walked on
down the corridor we heard it sliding closed behind
us:  it was as if we were in some prison, and even if
we had been thinking of making a run for freedom,
naked though we were, our exit was now totally closed
off.

I got used to being treated as if I was a dumb animal
with no free will as my "training" progressed, but
that first day, when they "encouraged" us into the
showers with their rifle butts, it was a complete
shock.  Look, it wasn't the showers themselves - just
a bare space, with nozzles in the ceiling - it's a bit
like that, well, a bit more luxurious, I suppose, at
my club, and there's no shame in standing there and
soaping yourself in front of other guys, is there?
But here, the moment the water turned on and we
started to wash ourselves, there was shouting and
screaming from the guards and one of them, with some
English, commanded us to stop.

We all stood there, wondering what to do, as we had
assumed that there would be no reason to be in the
showers if we weren't to clean ourselves.  But it soon
became clear, as one of the guards had more English
than the others, and he told us, in halting tones,
that slaves were not allowed to touch their bodies in
any way that might give them sexual satisfaction, and
that this meant that a slave could not be trusted to
wash his private parts in the shower, in case he
started to get pleasure from it.  All four of us
looked at each other, as if we couldn't wash
ourselves, how were we to get clean?

We son found out!  Into the room came two young lads -
I suppose they must have been sixteen or so, as they
were clearly sexually mature, judging from the tufts
of hair around their dicks - yes, they, like us, were
stark naked!  They didn't hesitate for a moment, and
came over to us and started to soap us.  I just didn't
k now what to think - look, showering with a woman
you're about to fuck or have just fucked is fun, isn't
it?  The feel of her hands sliding over your body is
really almost as good as sex itself.  But having
another man touch me - I didn't know what to think as
the lads' soapy hands slid over my pecs, then carried
on to wash my abs.  That must surely be it then, I
thought.... They've finished... But no, they dropped
to their knees, and their ministrations continued as
their soapy fingers first started to caress my dick,
and to slide down my ass crack! I'd have jerked away
from the hand around my dick, but the lad behind me
had his hand wedged by now in my crack, and so there
was no escape.  I snapped "Fuck off!" At them, and the
guard at once responded "Silence, slave!  Slaves  do
not speak until they're spoken to!  Any more noise,
and all four of them will be punished."

Fortunately, though, the problem kind of went away as
the two lads slid their hands down , washing my thighs
and then my lower legs, and then kind of tugging at me
to get me to lift each foot in turn so that they could
soap between my toes and do the soles of my feet.  I
suppose it didn't take more than a minute or so in
total and then they moved on to perform their expert
activities on another of my four companions.
Actually, I think it was good that it was so quick:
even though I felt physically sick at the thought of
another man handling my dick, there was a stirring of
life in it as the lad's strong fingers has caressed
it.  He had even 'skinned me back to clean under my
'skin - I mean, there's no way that anyone had ever
done that to me before - I'd never even let a woman do
that to me, as I think a guy's dick head and 'skin are
really private and personal to him, don't you?  It was
the same with my asshole - I once had a girl friend
who was very forward sexually, and as I'd started to
fuck her one night sh'e'd tried to tickle me there, as
she said it would be more sexually exciting for me.
Personally, I didn't  get it - I mean, your ass is
where you crap from, isn't it?  And you don't want
people interfering with you down there, do you?

It did feel good to be clean again, though, and even
though I was still naked I felt somehow better, and my
confidence started to return.  The guards turned the
water off, and the four of us just stood there, kind
of planing the water off our bodies with our hands, as
you do before towelling yourself dry - but no towels
were forthcoming.  We all looked at each other as we
stood drying in the air, but didn't speak - I suppose
we'd all decided not to antagonise the guards until we
understood better what was actually going on.

We might have started to ask them questions, though,
if the two young lads had not reappeared, and selected
one of my companions.  They gestured to him to sit
down on the tiled floor, then they stood over him and
used a pair of batter-operated clippers to buzz of all
the hair from his head!  He was the one with the long,
beautiful blond hair, and he started to protest as his
locks began to fall down over his body - at once one
of the guards came over, held his rifle by the stock
and threatened to club him with the butt, so he shut
up.  After the hair was buzzed off, the two lads used
a can of shaving foam and a razor to shave his head
totally smooth, then he was made to stand up and raise
his arms I the air, so they could clip away and then
shave his pits.  The other three of us just stood
there in total shock as the two young lads then
proceeded to shave his arms, his pubes, and his legs!
We thought it must be over then, but finally he was
made to bend over and spread his ass cheeks, so that
they could shave down his crack, too.  When they had
finished with him he looked so completely different
from the confident, handsome young guy of just a few
minutes before - he was now just an object, a piece of
raw flesh, some how much more boyish than he had been,
and he seemed to lack personality.

It was my turn then, of course, and I knew there was
nothing I could do, and somehow this feeling of utter
helplessness in the face of the guards helped me to
get through it - I mean, if anyone had tried to shave
my head and my body completely in "real life", I'd
have struck out at them or given them a good kicking.
But al I could now do was just squat there as my head
was shaved, then put up with the utter humiliation as
their razors and clippers ran all over me - the
feeling of utter helplessness as they lifted my dick
up to shave underneath it, and then the casual way
they stretched my balls to get all the hairs off them.
 I just can't tell you about how awful it felt to have
to stand there holding my ass crack open whilst a
young lad shaved it!

Once all four of had been shaved totally clean, you
could see how alike we were - our bodies were
different colours as some of us were tanned and some
not, and the tanned amongst us had different areas of
white depending on whether we wore cut-offs or jeans
in the sun, but otherwise the resemblance was
startling.  I've already told you that I had been
surprised to see so many other tall guys in one place
at one time, and now the other similarities in our
bodies, once they were revealed, became very clear:
we all had broad shoulders and well-developed pecs
with dark aureoles and largish nips.  We all had
fairly slim waists, and from behind I suppose we all
were that classic "triangular" shape on top.  Our
butts were much the same, too, flaring out from our
waists to end in broad, muscular thighs.

You know how sometimes you get a good long look at
another guy's dick in a changing room?  You don't mean
to look, but most men can't resist comparing
themselves with others, can they?  Well, I can't  help
making the comparison - but then, I've got nothing to
be ashamed of in that department as I've never given
anyone anything to complain about when it comes to the
length or girth of a my dick.  I guess if you're all
small, like a tiny peanut, you probably don't want to
even sneak a peek at other guys as it would make you
ashamed, but that certainly wasn't me!  Anyway,
whenever I have seen other guys' dicks - and, believe
me, I wasn't looking at them because I'm turned on my
them - I've often thought that three are a few
different categories.  Mine, for example, is in the
best category - long, thick and hanging down on top of
a pair of big, low-hanging balls that swing loose
underneath, the whole being well proportioned.  But
some guys have really tight, almost spherical ball
sacs, and their dicks somehow seem to almost "float"
on top of them, so the dick juts out all the time -
although usually then the dick is really on the short
side. And then, as I've said, there are guys with
little tiny peanuts, some with long but obscenely thin
dicks that look rather  like a spear of asparagus, and
so on.  Well, I suppose it takes all types to make the
world, but the surprising thing about us four was that
we were all of the same type - long, think, big-balled
, hanging loose:  in fact the only difference between
us was  that two of us had 'skins, and two were cut.

I didn't like thinking about my companions' dicks like
this, actually, but it's funny how these thoughts can
go through your head at stressful times, isn't it?
Evidently, though, we were "done" with whatever they
intended to do to us, and now, naked as the day we
were born, without even any hair to show that we were
men, we were herded along a corridor and locked in a
room - well, "cell" would probably describe it better:
 bare walls and floor of concrete, a hole in the
corner to crap into, and a bare fluorescent tube
behind shatter-proof glass in the ceiling.  The door
was made of bars, so that anyone passing in the
corridor could look in at us, and there was a heap of
straw in the corner which they told us we could spread
out all over the concrete, to sleep on.  It was a tiny
cell - as we soon found out when we did try to sleep
as there was almost no way that we could avoid
touching each other as we lay down.

We  started to talk, to exchange experiences, that
first night, but at once a guard appeared and told us
that slaves remained silent if they wished to avoid
punishment - there was a microphone in the ceiling,
and any further noise from us would result in the
offender receiving a caning.  So we just lay there
,trying to avoid touching each other, and trying to
sleep.

The next morning we all woke from our fitful sleep as
a guard banged his cane on the cell bars, and got to
our feet to stand there feeling acutely embarrassed at
our morning hard-ons.  Even though I'd seen other
guys' dicks at the club before, I really hadn't ever
seen another man erect, except in porn films before he
starts to fuck one of the women performers, and even
that doesn't prepare you for the reality, does it?
Especially when, as here, the rigid dicks sticking out
in front of us all kind of "got in the way" in the
tiny cramped space and we just couldn't help them
grazing against each others bodies!

That was the first time I was fed slave chow - I've
had hundreds and hundreds of meals of it now, of
course, but that first time it seemed really odd to be
trying to crunch up that stuff that most closely
resembled what I used to feed to the dog we had when I
was a kid.  And then they took me, and the other
un-cut guy, out from the cell, forced us along the
corridor into a room, strapped us to a table, and
circumcised us!

End Of Part  One