Date: Sun, 19 Oct 2003 00:33:27 EDT
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mandrasat: Part 16

"Mandrasat" is a continuing work of adult fiction; any similarity to
persons, places, or events present or past is unintended and purely
coincidental.

-0-

	"I think," Hassan answered humorously, "we will pay great attention
to his lower belly muscles, his abdominals.  As they become more powerful,
you, my dear Zarak, will instruct him on their use in giving the greatest
pleasure to his future master as he fucks his cock up his ass."
	"Even now, in his underdeveloped state," Zarak commented blandly,
"his abdominals have provided me with most pleasurable fucks.  I can but
imagine what ecstasy awaits as you, my dear Hassan, create a passageway of
thick, grinding muscles for me to plow."
	Both overseers laughed heartily, then Zarak stepped across the room
to where Bret sat, under the shower, astride the Nubian's ass.
	"Get up, slave," he barked.  "Clean yourself; Master Kasim is
waiting for your return."
	Bret nodded his head abjectly and slowly moved off the Nubian's
body, sliding his cock free from his hole.  He bent over to pick up the
block of soap lying next the Nubian's head; suddenly, the Nubian grabbed
Bret's wrist, and, rolling on his side, attempted to pull him down on top
of himself.
	Zarak responded instantly with a ferocious kick to the Nubian's
ribs.
	"Do not interfere with my orders, you fucking slave, or I will have
you skinned alive."
	Kicking him a second time, he raged, "do you understand me!"
	Crying out in pain and shaking his head furiously, the Nubian
howled and groaned, rolling himself into a ball.
	Zarak was beginning to show the signs of stress and anger at the
steel mesh chastity pouch Shareem obliged him to wear.  Never had a day
gone by since he received his overseer's gold rings that he had not taken
malicious delight in repeatedly fucking some auction slave's butt hole and
mouth hole.  Now, in addition to his enforced abstinence, his tackle was
constantly pinched and scraped by the steel mesh, squeezed as the pouch was
between his own massive thighs.
	Bret regained his footing under the shower and began rubbing the
block of soap over his body.
	"Squat down," Zarak ordered, "and clean out your hole.  Master
Kasim will fill it up again soon enough."

-0-

MANDRASAT
Chapter Two: Zarak! (cont'd)

	Reacting mindlessly to Zarak's command, virtually oblivious to his
surroundings and hunching down like a frog, Bret squatted under the shower,
and, reaching behind his balls, began soaping his hole, his brain too
stunned to make a conscious connection between Zarak's words and his own
action.  His body would not let go of the overwhelming power and ecstasy
he'd felt when he rammed himself through the Nubian's hole and full force
into his tight, hot chute.  It was like drilling his cock into a wet,
grainy, tightly clenched fist.  His whole body shuddered and he was dizzy
recalling it, breathless even; the roar of his heart beat drowned out the
pounding shower overhead; his rod stiffened, jutting out in front of his
belly like a handle.
	The thrill of remembering his rock hard spike grinding against the
walls of the Nubian's guts, the stretching and the friction from jamming it
raw and deep sent waves of fiery excitement surging through his belly, his
genitals, his soul; he could taste it in his mouth, he relived it in his
rigid, throbbing cock, and he shook with delirium as his body flexed and
released in rhythm with its beat.
	His free hand reached automatically for his hot, twitching rod, his
fingers closing around it, his ass pumping back and forth driving it into
his own clenched fist.  Suddenly, with no warning, Zarak swooped down on
him, grabbed him by the shoulders, raised him up, and hurled him face first
into the back wall.
	"You fucking slave," he screamed.  "You do not touch what does not
belong to you.  Master Shareem owns your cock.  He owns your balls and your
asshole.  You do not pleasure yourself.  Ever!"
	Zarak punctuated his final word with a vicious kick to Bret's ass.
	"You play with your cock again," he stormed over the whimpering
slave, "and I will have Master Jullah play with it every day for a month.
Do you hear what I say, you fucking slave?"
	Cringing against the wall, Bret cried, "Master, yes, Master.
Forgive me, Master" he begged, his cock quickly falling limp.  "I'm sorry,
Master."
	"I am not interested in 'sorry,'" Zarak stormed, looming
threateningly over the cowering slave.
	He ordered Bret to his feet, then shouted, "Bend over, you piece of
dog shit, and grab your ankles."
	"You!" he hollered to the Nubian.  "Pick up that soap and come
here.  Clean out this slave's hole, and if you dare make him cum, I will
castrate you myself."
	With his massive paws, Zarak yanked Bret's buttocks wide and
watched closely as the Nubian slave soaped his finger and worked it into
Bret's hole.  The terrified Nubian was exceptionally careful not to hit
Bret's prostate, knowing fully that the nodule had the power to trigger the
white slave's cock hard again like a rock and shoot his cum across the
floor.
	His finger, buried deep in Bret's hole, could not completely avoid
the protuberance, and as much as he would have liked to ravage it, longed
to ravage it, with his own cock, with his own tongue, he studiously wiped
it with the lightest touch he could. Even that light brush brought moans
from Bret's throat and a quiver to his cock.
	When Zarak was satisfied the Nubian had sufficiently cleansed
Bret's hole, and no bubbles of cum were visible in his chute, he ordered
him to stand up and exit the shower.  Hassan grabbed a piece of coarse
cloth from the utility shelf and tossed it to him.
	"Dry yourself, slave.  I want no puddles in my workroom or in the
exercise pit."
	Bret quickly toweled himself all over, and Zarak told him to give
the cloth to the Nubian.  As he turned to pass it to the black slave, his
hand instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder; he held the Nubian's
gaze in his eyes for a moment and smiled slightly, then the flat of Zarak's
hand cracked loudly against the back of his head.
	"I said give the towel to the Nubian, you stupid slave, not make
eyes at him."
	Zarak, slowly shaking his head, gave Hassan a look of utter
exasperation.
	"Perhaps," Hassan laughed, "your slave and mine might like to be
left alone a little while longer."
	"I will leave them alone," Zarak spat, "hanging by their balls from
the ceiling."
	"Move out!" he commanded striking Bret hard across his right
buttock.  He had one quick second for a final, furtive glance back at the
Nubian before Zarak pushed him toward the exercise pit and into Mandrasat's
dank hallways.  Zarak said not a word; nothing needed to be said.  His
slave had begun to feel the full weight of Mandrasat.  By this time
tomorrow afternoon, he would know its full horror.

-0-
 	The door to Kasim's workroom slid open at Zarak's approach; as the
overseer shoved him into the chamber, Bret shivered at the sight of Kasim's
magnificent naked body.  A firey recollection also swept across his
shoulder and chest recalling the whip that Kasim used on him that morning
by the field cart in the courtyard.  A sneer crept across Kasim's face as
he stepped into the middle of the room; behind him, head bowed and hands
behind his back, stood his slave, the Navy fighter pilot, and against the
wall to Bret's left, three naked, giggling, and heavily muscled Nubians.
But Bret's eyes were riveted on Kasim.
	"Salaam!" Zarak hissed, and Bret instantly fell to his knees before
Kasim.
	He struggled desperately to keep from throwing a hard on, but Kasim
radiated a power, an energy, that snared Bret like a rabbit in a trap.
With his cock fully hard and rigid, he bent over and kissed the overseer's
feet, letting the tip of his tongue protrude between his lips, dragging it
over Kasim's toes, then knelt up and, as his upper lip touched the tip of
Kasim's cock, he drew his tongue lightly across the underside of his
cockhead.
	Bret applied the slightest of pressure as his lips encircled the
cockhole; Kasim shifted his weight almost imperceptively from one foot to
the other, a low rumble sounding in his chest.  Bret kissed each of Kasim's
testicles, faintly jabbing his tongue into each.  Finishing the Salaam, he
waited on his knees, head bowed, for Kasim's next pleasure.
	"On your feet, slave," he commanded, looking down at Bret, a wicked
smirk spreading across his face.  "I've been looking forward to this for
almost two days now," he continued, not even attempting to disguise his
Texan accent.  "I hear," he whispered standing directly in front of Bret,
"that you and Master Jullah had a fine old time last night.  I'm sure," he
continued, smiling and drawing the tips of his fingers over the tip of
Bret's cock, "that we will have just as good a time tonight."
	Bret was shaking like a windblown leaf; his cock painfully hard as
Kasim tightened his fingers around it, then after a few moments of slow
stroking, he let go of it, turned his head toward his slave and ordered him
to his side.
	Kasim's slave stepped forward, naked, with the pall of defeat and
submission hanging over him.  Bret's previous encounter with him took place
less than a day and a half before and was such a horrifying experience,
swathed in pain and brutality, that he never really had the chance to look
at him closely.  Even on his first day at Mandrasat, strung up in Shareem's
neural torture device, numb with fear, terrorized out of his mind when and
had seen this slave for the first time, he had not been able to focus on
anything more than the hefty tackle he hung.  Now, as he approached his
master, cowed and beaten, it was obvious what a strikingly tall, handsome,
lean and muscular man he was.
	Bret felt an icy chill surge through his guts, and dread hang heavy
in his chest; what hope is there if one like this can be so completely
destroyed?  He also couldn't help noticing the large adhesive patches
pressed onto the front and inside of the man's thighs, on his calves, and
on the sides of his torso between his rib cage and hips. His thought was
that they were first aid bandages covering the bruises and batterings all
slaves seem to be subject to, but not knowing their exact nature or
purpose, a new layer of fear enveloped Bret's mind as he watched his
counterpart stand next to, but one step behind his master.
	After years of hormonal research, Shareem's European biochemical
conglomerate had devised these patches exclusively for his slave training
facilities.  On a time release basis, they would secrete endorphins through
the skin and directly into the blood stream.  This, combined with the
herbal stimulants and steroids that he consumed in his daily slave slop the
Navy pilot was kept in a constant state of mid level arousal, which would
explode into a devouring, all consuming lust during orgasm, over which he
had no control.  At the moment, his cock was semi hard, pointing outwards
from his crotch.
	"Tell me, slave," Kasim mocked, "have our Nubians taught you well
these past few days?"
	Head still bowed and his eyes cast down to the floor, the slave
whispered, "Master, yes, Master."
	"Louder, you fucking slave," Kasim shouted.  "I could hardly hear
you.  Have our Nubians taught you well?"
	"Master, yes, Master," he cried aloud. "The Nubians have taught me
well, Master."
	Kasim growled, "then suck this slave's cock just the way you were
taught"
	As the overseer stepped aside, his slave dropped to his knees in
front of Bret, grabbed him tightly above the hips, and, slamming his tongue
wildly into his cock, slid his mouth down its full length.
	A loud, piercing moan escaped Bret's lips; his eyes were squeezed
shut and, grasping the slave's smooth, flawless head, he began pumping his
ass, slowly grinding himself against his face.  The pilot had sucked his
mouth so tightly around Bret's cock and commenced jabbing his tongue
against it so forcefully, that Bret shuddered uncontrollably with pain and
excitement.
	Kasim's slave dug his fingers into Bret's hips and this thumbs into
his belly, pulling him down onto the floor.  He cried out in ecstasy and
agony as he forced his burning cock against the pilot slave's powerful
mouth grip.  He was flat on his back, his cock fully in the slave's throat;
his furious gulping spasms drove Bret wild.
	Without surrendering an inch of Bret's cock, the slave reached back
and grabbed him behind the knees and hoisted his legs over his shoulders.
Bret immediately clasped his ankles together behind the slave's back and
began slamming his ass up and down on the floor, groaning loudly and
thrashing about madly.
	Kasim's slave, his eyes ablaze, sweat streaming from his body,
worked his finger into Bret's hole while ramming his mouth relentlessly
along his cock; he found, then shoved his finger roughly across Bret's
prostate causing him to scream and his cock to explode, shooting wads of
hot cum down the slave's throat.
	The slave, now fully consumed with a raging lust for Bret's body,
pulled his mouth off Bret's still hard and discharging cock and fell face
first onto his left breast, growling beast like and snapping his teeth shut
on his nipple.  He maneuvered his cockhead against Bret's hole, paused for
a fraction of a second, then rammed it full length into Bret's ass.
	Bret cried out in agony over and over, but the roar of his own body
deafened him to any sound outside.  He writhed furiously under the pounding
attack of the slave's cock; he beat his fists on the floor and howled and
shoved his ass forcefully back to slam onto the forward thrust of the
slave's cock.  His gut muscles squeezed tight, then released, then squeezed
tight again, crushing cock, milking cock until it finally erupted, sending
geysers of cum splattering against his insides, a blossom of heat streaking
out from the center of his body.
	His hole had been brutally stretched over the course of the day
beginning with Jullah pounding him mercilessly into Zarak's bed, then the
monstrous Nubian slave beast yoked behind him to the field cart splitting
him wide open with his gigantic tool, and finally Hassan and his Nubian and
their huge cocks grinding and wrenching his hole open until he thought he
had to die.  Kasim's slave produced a flash of searing white pain as he
plowed himself fully into Bret's ass, but after his initial agonized cry,
Bret hung mute, almost comatose, suspended on the massive spike slamming
deeper into his ass, detonating wave after wave numbing ecstasy.
	His arms extended, his head rolling to one side, his eyes closed,
spittle running out of the corner of his mouth, he was beyond
consciousness, his mind short circuited, his higher faculties paralyzed.
His rasping cries collided with the growls emanating from the other slave's
throat as he ground his teeth back and forth over Bret's excruciatingly
pained nipple.
	If Bret could have described the forces tearing at his body and
mind, he would have said it was as though he were hurtling around inside a
tornado; with neither up nor down, left or right, darkness or light, only
the grinding, the trobbing, the fire storm, the electric currents surging
through his body.  Somewhere out there, beyond his care, were shouts and
screams as he was tossed about by the storm's violent currents.  Suddenly
everything stopped.
	Bret's eyes popped open; Kasim's slave was off his body, nowhere to
be seen, and the three Nubian slaves were pulling him to his feet.  As the
largest of the Nubians grabbed him from behind, pinning his upper arms to
his sides, the other two bound his wrists tightly together in front of him
with a heavy line hanging from the ceiling.  When his wrists had been
securely tied, the Nubian pinning his arms let go and stepped away; Bret's
arms were then jerked violently upwards, over his head, as one of the other
Nubians pulled down forcefully on the end of the rope.
	With his arms stretched tightly above his head, the Nubians then
busied themselves shackling his ankles to chains, pulling his legs apart,
and clamping the chains to eyelets anchored in the floor.  When they had
finished with these restraints, Bret's body, pulled taut, resembled an
inverted 'Y'.
	Directly in front of him, separated by five, possibly six feet, was
the Navy fighter pilot, similarly shackled in the upside down 'Y' position.
Lengths of heavy rope were jammed into their mouths, looped around their
jaws, and tied behind the back of their heads.  These rope gags were not
intended to silence them or even muffle their voices; their screams would
be perfectly clear; they just would not be able to form any words.
	Kasim stepped between the two tightly restrained slaves, the
contemptuous smirk lingering on his lips.
	"Will you not stay and join us," he called to Zarak who had already
turned in the direction of the door.  "I can promise an exciting evening."
	"Thank you for the offer," he shouted back over his shoulder, "but
I'm sure you noticed how my chastity pouch is straining greatly against its
precious contents.  I will see you and these slaves in Master Shareem's
discipline room tomorrow morning."
	"Try not to hurt yourself tonight," Kasim laughed as the door swept
open before Zarak and slid silently shut after him.  Kasim's eyes then
returned to his prey.

-0-
	He snapped his fingers and one of the Nubian slaves ran up to him
and handed him what Bret immediately recognized as length of bungee cord
with loops reinforced at either end with black duct tape.  Kasim stepped in
front of Bret and, after a quick piercing glance, dropped to one knee and
wrapped the cord around the top of Bret's scrotum, threading one looped end
through the other and drawing it tight.  Bret grunted at the sudden
pressure on his balls.
	Kasim then wound the cord around the base of Bret's cock, again
threading the looped end in between the cord itself and the already
stiffening organ; he repeated the process at mid shaft and finally around
the underside of Bret's cockhead.  Then pulling on the cord, he turned
around and walked over to the fighter pilot.  Bret cried loudly into his
rope gag at the stabbing pain shooting through his cock and lacerating his
balls as they were dragged out in front of him.
	Beginning with the underside of the pilot slave's cockhead, and
continuing in reverse order to Bret, Kasim affixed the bungee cord tightly
around his slave's cock and balls, stretching both out from his body and
toward Bret.  The slave groaned as a ring of fire seemed to explode in and
around his genitals.  Both slaves strained forward toward each other as far
as their wrist and ankle restraints would allow.  The cord felt as though
it were ripping their balls and cocks out by their roots, and the throbbing
pressure from this strangulation caused their organs to turn purple.
	Sweat streamed from their heads, their torsos, their outstretched
legs, puddling on the floor as they tried to release the pressure by
pulling harder against their restraints.  Neither the rope binding their
wrists and stretching their arms above their heads nor the shackles pulling
their legs apart gave an inch.  Both slaves were screaming into their gags,
writhing in agony.
	With sweat burning his eyes, Bret watched two of the Nubians
approach, each carrying what appeared to be several folded pieces of cloth.
What the folded pieces of cloth turned out to be were Shareem's endorphin
laced adhesive patches, identical to the ones on the fighter pilot's body.
The Nubian slaves tore the backing from the patches and applied them to
Bret's body, onto the front and inner parts of his thighs, onto his calves,
and around his midsection below his ribs.
	Almost immediately, as the Nubians, giggling and chirping, rubbed
their hands over the patches, Bret's head began to swim, and inspite of the
searing pain from having his genitals bound tightly and stretched, a
sweeping, breathless thrill washed through his body.  The agony he was
suffering did not seem independent of, or hostile to the pulsating waves
surging out from his belly; in fact, in Bret's mind, the pain was the cause
of this ecstatic feeling.  It was, however, still excruciating.
	After some moments of letting the slaves feel the agony of their
bungee cord union, Kasim stepped between them, and Bret's eyes bulged as he
screamed louder and longer into his gag.  Kasim was holding two narrow
leather straps, one of which he handed a grinning Nubian.  He then stepped
behind Bret as the Nubian stepped behind the other slave.  In only a matter
of seconds, a sheet of fire tore across both slaves' buttocks, and Bret
watched the Navy pilot receive the same lashing from the leather strap in
the Nubian's hand.
	Both slaves convulsed under this new torture, and in doing so,
amplified the agony in their genitals; their shrieks bombarding the walls
of the room.  On a totally instinctual level, both slaves realized they
would have to remain still or risk tearing each other's cocks and balls off
their bodies.  As a second tongue of flame raked their buttocks, they again
convulsed under its pain, but they quickly tried regaining control of
themselves.
	Again and again, Kasim and the Nubian lashed the slaves flaming red
buttocks; the two could only whimper as the strap slashed back and forth,
but they forced their bodies to move as little as possible from the
beating.
	Under such savagery, there was no way either slave could hear the
workroom door slide open, nor, drenched with pain, would their minds have
been able to process the sight of Dr. Katib entering the room.

-0-

MANDRASAT is very much a 'Work Under Construction,' and I would appreciate
hearing your thoughts and suggestions should you choose to continue reading
through the story.  Please email your comments to
Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>