Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2007 00:08:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mandrasat, Chapter 24

MANDRASAT -- Chapter 24

(The author of this story wishes to remain anonymous.
It is posted for him by Pete Brown petebrownuk @
yahoo.com )

	Shareem lay enthralled on a huge satin draped bed in
his sumptuous airborne sleeping quarters; the sounds
of two powerful jet engines on either side of the
massive plane sent tremors throbbing throughout a
dimly lit but otherwise empty fuselage.  He was naked
and hurtling through the night skies at forty-two
thousand feet; his two favorite body slaves attending
him. One sucking his cock, the other his balls.  Each
had but a year previously been outstanding members of
championship football teams at their respective
American universities, but Mandrasat's instruments of
torture and Shareem's single mindedness had made
willing sex slaves of them both.
	Hanging from the compartment's ceiling like a trap
door was a giant flat screen, plasma TV, and on the
screen, writhing in agony, the recorded images of
Brett Hauser, of late a priest of Rome, screaming into
a cloth gag, tightly restrained in a chair of torment.
	From a distance of several hundred miles, indeed from
his destination in London, Shareem could control the
cameras in the torture chamber for live transmissions.
 Now, in flight, he could control which recorded
images from that very morning he wished to view.  And
view again.
	With the TV remote clutched tightly in his right
hand, Shareem alternated between images of Brett and
the American Navy pilot slave Ballard.  How gorgeous
they were, even with blood still trickling from their
nipples and earlobes down over their bodies.
	Shareem writhed in his own way as his slaves slowly
and expertly brought his cock to an explosive orgasm,
and the sight of Brett, naked, hairless, glistening
with sweat, his nipples and earlobes excruciatingly
pierced with the steel rings of slavery, added to his
frenzy.  Katib and the overseers would use as much
bandage as needed to absorb the blood and wipe the
slaves' bodies clean.
	When Shaareem met with the doctor and the
slavemasters, he assigned Jullah the task of spraying
the antibiotic lubricant on the rings every quarter
hour and rotating them through the punch holes until
the bleeding ceased. This would keep the piercings
sterile and would prevent the healing process from
causing the flesh to adhere to the rings. It was also
screaming red torture.
	How he had wanted to be with them in that room this
morning, listening in person to the agonized cries for
mercy, watching the actual gouging through tender
flesh, and the insertion of the steel slave rings.
And with that vision burning in his imagination,
Shareem's cock exploded in spasms of ecstasy, and his
two body slaves sucked all the harder. They brought
him to orgasm twice more before he ejected them from
his sleeping compartment, then Shareem stretched and
twisted on his bed, feeling euphoric, letting the
muffled roar of the plane's engines bathe his mind and
body.
	His plans for Brett and Ballard were progressing
perfectly and on schedule, and he had to admit that
the rapid compliance of captured auction slaves to
their plight never failed to amaze and amuse him.
They would all inevitably know beyond any doubt that
they were property.

-0-

Shareem had comandeered a specially outfitted Royal
Qassir Air Force 747-400 for a quick trip to London to
meet with executives and managers of his many
companies in Europe to review the current year at its
closing and to finalize both short and long range
plans for 2003.  The meeting was more perfunctory than
anything else.  Shareem operated his companies on five
year plans and the present cycle would end in 2004.
But he knew the importance of his personal presence at
the distribution of year end bonuses, and their
excessive amounts insured silence on the part oh his
directors and executives, but his real joy came from
Mandrasat, and the sale of beautiful young men as
newly trained slave meat, plus there were no
end-of-the-year bonuses for anyone at Mandrasat.
	The second and more appealing reason behind his trip
to London was the acquisition of new slaves now being
processed at his installation south of London before
transport to Mandrasat.  This huge plane he occupied
as the sole passenger, was outfitted like a royal
palace, complete with ample storage for a number of
slave cages. Shareem arranged this flight through the
Royal House of Qassir, thus guaranteeing his own as
well as the plane's diplomatic immunity; there would
be no customs inspection nor manifests to file.
Ground transportation would carry diplomatic license
plates as well.  Shareem and his cargo would be
eminently protected.

-0-

Trap Baited

	 Cash Collier had easily 'aced' his first semester
final exams; and with the first half of his freshman
year at South West Texas U. under his belt, and a good
bet to be starting quarter back on next year's team,
he was going to coast through the year end break,
sleeping, partying, and maybe hopping down to Cancun
for a week or two.  It was a great life.
	Cash's father, Ned Collier, fully approved of blowing
off steam whenever the chance arose, and there was no
better opportunity than semester break.  He hadn't had
the luck his son had with an athletic scholarship and
a soft touch for a dad.
	All through high school, Ned was wild, smart,
athletic, and more sexy than girls could hope for. By
his sophomore year, he was six foot four, a hundred
ninety pounds, and irresistible, and in his senior
year, he knocked Kathleen Tomlenson up all the way to
pregnancy.
	Ned's Achilles Heel was his extreme sense of
responsibility; when Kathleen's pregnancy became known
to him, he insisted on marrying her, even though this
would derail his plans for the athletic scholarship he
had received from South West Texas University.  It
would now be a long, hard haul to earn a degree in
petrochemical engineering; he knew it, but he also
knew without doubt that he could do it.
	Kathleen never loved Ned for his own sake; she loved
his dick.  She loved to look at it, to stroke it, to
suck it, and to feel it deep inside her.  She wanted
Ned's dick and Arnie Smyth's personality and
prospects.  Arnie's dad owned a huge  car dealership
and a local meat packing plant, and Arnie would finish
college in four years with a degree in Business and on
a path that would make him a very young millionaire.
	Since she could not bear the thought of an abortion,
Kathleen decided she would marry Ned secretly right
after high school graduation; he could go to Lubbock,
get a job and go to college part time if he wanted to;
she would go live with relatives in El Paso, have the
kid, give it up for adoption, and after a year or so
apart, divorce Ned.  She gave birth in January of
1984; it was a boy; the one thing she hadn't counted
on was Ned's obstinacy about the adoption.  He wanted
to keep the boy; he agreed to the divorce, provided he
got complete custody.  Kathleen was more than
agreeable,  She could return home with no husband or
kid and begin  snaring Arnie Smyth.
	Ned named his son 'Cash' to remind him how hard he
was going to have to work to support them both and to
see that the boy had a good future and whatever he
needed to reach it.  It took Ned six years of
roustabouting in the oil fields and part timing in
college to get his BS in chemistry.  He prospered in
his jobs and rose through the ranks to become a gang
supervisor.
	Recognizing his talents and abilities, the company he
worked for agreed to pay for his master's program in
exchange for a commitment to continue working for them
for seven years.  For Ned, this was a no-brainer, and
in two years, he was a petrochemical engineer, and did
the wine ever flow!
	Cash grew up with a dad who loved him more than life
itself; every free moment Ned could wrestle from his
work, his studies, his chores, belonged to Cash and
Cash alone. He wasn't above a sexual fling now and
then to blow off steam, but there was no room for
anyone else in Ned's life except for Cash.  His folks
sent him enough money every month to pay for baby
sitters and child care and a little extra for fun with
his son, and he continued receiving his regular
salary.
	Ned began his career in petrochemicals just after
Cash's eighth birthday and his own midterm graduation.
 A lot more money was flowing into Ned's bank account
now, but a lot of time was draining out of his life;
time that he wanted to spend with Cash.  He considered
the expression 'spending quality time' a lame excuse
for absentee parents, but there was nothing he could
do.  He worked very hard to let Cash know how much he
loved him, and Cash himself was more than bright
enough to realize this and loved Ned in return.  With
everything that crammed their lives full, the seven
year commitment to Ned's employer flew by, and when it
was fulfilled, Cash was going on sixteen and quite a
sensation in his own right at his high school.
	He had inherited his dad's athletic prowess, his
brains, and his spectacular good looks. Throughout his
high school career, Cash was one of the top
quarterbacks in the state and was a shoe in for a
scholarship to South West Texas. Ned was bursting with
pride, and Cash knew that all he had came from his
dad's sacrifices.
	They were always together and their pictures
regularly appeared in newspapers and sports magazines
all through Cash's high school years.  The two of them
looked like exceptionally handsome brothers, and most
could not believe that they were father and son.  A
lot of people came to know about this father and son
team; probably too many, for everything was about to
change.
-0-
	With the 2002 Fall semester at South West Texas over,
and the celebration  of Christmas thankfully done
with, Cash had nothing but time on his hands for the
next five weeks.  He'd hang with friends, party, pick
up chicks, all the fun stuff he didn't have time for
during school.  A couple of days after Christmas, he
was lolling around the house, thinking about going to
Cancun and trolling for babes in bikinis, when the
door bell knocked him out of his reverie; he padded to
the door in his bare feet; a mailman was standing
there with a special delivery letter that he asked
Cash to sign for.  It was addressed to his dad with
the return addressed to Qassir Petroleum, Qassir City,
The Kingdom of Qassir.
	"Hm," Cash thought, "these guys must be so big, they
don't even need a street address" But since Cash had
never heard of the Kingdom of Qassir, he thought maybe
the place was so small there wasn't any need for
street addresses at all.  He dropped the letter on the
dining room table and thought no more about it until
his dad came home, opened the letter, and gave out a
howl that seemed to shake the house.
	"Shit, Dad.  What's wrong? What happened?"
	"Nothing's wrong, Cash.  You're just not going to
believe what's in this letter."
	"OK," Cash answered, "what's it all about?"
	"An invitation, kid.  An invitation to come and talk
about a position with an oil company in the Persian
Gulf."
	"What kind of position," Cash demanded excitedly.
"What do they want you to do?"
	"Well," Ned responded, his eyes scanning the letter,
"this Qassir Petroleum company wants me consider a
position as a CADCAM Engineer."
	"Which is?" Cash asked.
	"Actually, it's a sort of teaching position they want
me for, I guess.  To work with their engineers in
computer aided design and manufacture of the next
generation drilling and exploration equipment.  I've
been doing a bit of that kind of work for the past
couple of years.  Wrote a paper on it a year or so
ago.  Remember?"  Cash noded and Ned continued, "It's
not field work, but it's pretty challenging."
	"But Dad!  The Persian Gulf?"
	"It's OK.  It's just an invitation to come and to
look around, not to make any snap decisions.  But I
have to say, the pay scale is huge.  That makes it a
real tempting offer.  Plus, if I decide to take them
up on their invitation, there'll be two first class
round trip tickets and a couple of day's lay over in
London going and in Paris coming back."
	"Wow?  But why two tickets?"
	"Because the Qassir Petroleum company invites you to
come along with me."
	"Wow!" Cash repeated himself.  "When do we leave?'
	"Let's see.  Three days till the 30th, so if we leave
then that puts us in London on New Years Eve.
Apparently we'll be staying at one of the best hotels
in London for five days and then off to Qassir.
Waddya think, kiddo?"
	"I think," Cash laughed, "I think I'd like to spend
New Years Eve in London."
	"All right, then.  Let's get to it.  I'll call them
right now and accept their offer.  London, here we
come."
-0-
	Along with the two first class round trip tickets
from Lubbock to Dallas to London to Qassir, came a
daily itinerary with things they could do in London.
There was also a chashier's check made out to Ned from
The Royal Bank of Qassir in the amount of five
thousand dollars, all delivered by special messenger
first thing the next morning.
	"To cover our expenses in London," Ned gasped.  "This
company's got to be something else!"
-0-
	They were met at Heathrow by a Rolls limo and a
taciturn dark skinned Middle Eastern looking driver,
and were whisked from the airport to the VIP entrance
of their Park Lane hotel. A private elevator took them
to the top floor and the Royal Suite.
	"This place is humongous," Cash exclaimed, his eyes
wide with astonishment.
	Ned's predicament was what to give the bell man as a
tip; he had never even thought of this degree of
luxury let alone ever seen a place like this.  He
decided fifty pounds would be appropriate, although
his stomach cringed.  "With this kind of tip," he
thought, "this guy makes almost as much as I do."
	Cash was 'oohing' and 'ahhing' all over the place.
"We've got two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room,
a dining room, a kitchen, and a couple of other rooms
I'm not sure of," he laughed.
	The view over London from the Royal Suite was
spectacular, and totally mysterious to Ned and Cash.
As they were walking from window to window, a doorbell
rang.
	"Jeeze," Cash yelped. "What's that?"
	"The doorbell you nignog," Ned smiled heading to the
front door. "What did you think it was?"
	Standing at the door was a distinguished gentleman
with short white hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes,
resembling very much the limo driver.  He was wearing
a 'sort of' tuxedo, a black and white vest, but no
coat, and carrying a silver tray with a coffee pot two
cups and saucers, and a folded newspaper."
	"Good morning, Mr. Collier," he said in a clipped
accent.  English, but not British.  My name is Faran,
and I am butler to this suite.  I trust your flight
from the United States was enjoyable."
	"Very nice," Ned responded, overawed at having a real
live butler serve him.
	"If you require anything at all, Mr. Collier, please
dial number 2 on the telephone, and I will come
immediately."
	"Thank you very much."
	The butler laid his tray on a coffee table, gave a
slight bow to Ned and quietly left the room.
	After a few moments of staring at the closed door,
Cash piped up saying, "That was unexpected.  Let's
dial 2 and order something."
	"Go ahead, kiddo.  Go crazy.  I'm going to take a
nice long nap and then a long hot shower.  Tonight's
New Years Eve and I don't expect to hit the hay again
till dawn's early light.  While you're ordering
something for yourself, order me a ham sandwich on rye
with mustard and pickles.  Put it in the fridge.  I'll
eat it between my nap and my shower.  See you later."
	Ned disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door.
Chase headed directly to the Room Service Menu lying
next to the phone, his mouth watering.
-0-
	Their New Years holiday in London was turning out to
be everything Cash could ever have wished for, a whirl
of five star restaurants, hit musicals in the West
End, privately conducted tours of the top historical
sites, dance clubs galore, all arranged for them by
Qassir Petroleum.
	They had a limo available twenty-four hours a day;
and each of the drivers looked Middle Eastern and
spoke virtually not at all, which surprised Ned, but
not to the point of pressing the issue.	He and Cash
hooked up with stunningly beautiful women every night,
and that secluded VIP entrance at the hotel and
private elevator to the Royal Suite came in mighty
handy.  Fucking such choice cunt kept Ned and Cash
from ever noticing the small apertures in the four
corners of each bedroom or the mini cams behind them,
and they were so wrapped up in their London holiday
that they were totally oblivious to the same in the
four corners of each bathroom.
	Midmorning on the fourth day of their trip, Faran
entered the suite carrying his silver tray which bore
a white envelope.  Ned took it and thanked the butler,
opened the envelope and began to read the note inside.
	 "Hey, Cash.  Listen to this.  You and I are invited
to visit the London headquarters of Qassir Petroleum
this afternoon, tour the facilities, and have   tea
with the high and mighty in the executive dining room.
 How about that?"
	"Well," Ned responded with a haughty tone, "I think
it's about time they invited their next CADCAM
Engineer to tea."  They both burst out laughing.
	"Get ready then; they're expecting us at one thirty
and suggest we leave here no later than noon"
	"Will do, sir, dressed to the T's."
-0-

	The headquarters of Qassir Petroleum was located on a
large estate south of London in a massive country
house. Extensive underground facilities beneath the
house were hidden from view, and in no way disturbed
the illusion that the entire estate was a retreat for
some important and obscenely wealthy personage.  Cash
and Ned were duly impressed by the lengthy drive to
the manor house after passing through security at the
gates.  When they entered the huge foyer, a butler
greeted them and his two assistants took Cash's and
Ned's overcoats.
	The three servants must come from the same Middle
Eastern country as Faran the hotel butler.  All spoke
with the same clipped English-but-not-British accent.
"Apparently," Ned thought, "Qassir Petroleum must
staff its foreign facilities with nationals from
Qassir itself."
	Leading the way, the house butler accompanied Ned and
Cash up a flight of ornate marble stairs and down a
plushly carpeted hallway, its walls lined with
original and expensive art work.  He knocked lightly
on a gleaming teak wood door, opened it and gestured
Ned and Cash inside.
	Ned was used to entering and working in expensive
executive offices, but this one of Qassir Petroleum
might possibly surpass anything any U.S. billionaire
might create for himself.  A  strikingly handsome
middle aged gentleman sitting behind a huge mahogany
desk rose as they entered. He was tall, but not as
tall as either Ned or Cash, lean with dark skin and
short cropped black hair, streaked with silver.
	"Welcome, my friends," he said standing up, but
without moving from behind the desk  "My name is
Shareem."
	"Their photos do not do justice to these two
specimens, " he thought.  "One would never know an
eighteen year difference lies between them."  The
mental image of Ned and Cash stripped naked, hairless
from head to foot, pierced with slave rings as the two
back at Mandrasat had just been, aroused Shareem and
he bent slightly over his desk until he regained
control of his stiffening cock.
	"Please, take a seat. I'm happy that you were able to
accept our invitation to come to London and Qassir to
discuss possible employment with us."
	"Thank you," Ned responded, as he and Cash took their
seats in exquisitely fashioned leather chairs, "I'm
sure you know that I've got a couple of years
experience with designing and controlling the
manufacture of research equipment."
	"One thing I truly like about Americans," Shareem
grinned, "is the way you get right to the point
without wasting time," then Shareem laughed. "I was
referred to the article you wrote in 'Petroleum' a
year or so ago," he commented sitting down in his own
high back executive chair.  "And I think," he
continued with a slight smile crossing his face, "you
are just what I've been looking for.  I've asked a
couple of our own engineers to come and join us in a
little while to discuss the research and development
facilities we have here and in Qassir."   Shareem then
pressed a button under the edge of his desk.
"Meanwhile, you and I should talk about the more
practical aspects of the position we're offering you."
	At that moment, a tall, lean, graciously smiling
young Arab fellow entered Shareem's office through a
side door hidden in the wainscoting.
	"Gentlemen, this is my executive assistant, Tariq.'
Shareem hid his distaste at calling Ned and Cash
"gentlemen."
	"I don't want to subject your son needlessly to the
boring and endless details of Qassir contract law or
the ins and outs of CADCAM Engineering,"  Shareem
chuckled, "however, Tariq is an excellent and
knowledgeable tour guide for this facility and we have
many interesting projects underway in our research
labs that he would be happy to show your son." Shareem
would rather have said, "your whelp."
	"What do you say, son," Ned asked.  "You up for a
little sight seeing?"
	"Yeah! Sure," Cash answered quickly sliding his chair
back and standing up, happy to avoid an afternoon
filled with the jargon of engineers and technicians.
	Tariq gave Cash a killer smile and gestured toward
the door saying, "Then let us go."
	After Cash and Tariq exited Shareem's office, he
again pressed the button under the edge of his desk
and the butler who had first met Ned and Cash entered
the room by the same door as Tariq.
	"Hamid," Shareem said, addressing the butler, "please
bring us a pot of that wonderful Ethiopian coffee our
guests find so entrancing.  I think," he continued,
turning to Ned sitting across the desk from him, "that
you will find this blend exquisite."
	"Wonderful." Ned was beginning to feel more at ease
in Shareem's company.
	They spent the next twenty or so minutes talking
about many things: Ned's current employer, his
experience in the fields as a roustabout, Cash's high
school career, his athletic accomplishments.  Ned
found Shareem very interested in his and Cash's
athleticism, Ned's secrets for looking as young and
strong and virile as Cash.  Ned laughed at that last
query.
	Shareem's butler entered the room as silently as he
had before and set a silver tray bearing a silver
coffee service on a table to the side of Shareem's
desk.
	"One lump or two," Shareem asked nonchalantly.
	"Two," Ned replied.
	"Excellent!" Shareem thought.
	Hamid poured Ned's coffee and dropped two sugar cubes
into it with silver tongs.  Shareem took his coffee
without sugar or cream.  Hamid bowed and left.
	Shareem continued talking about the excellent
physical condition Ned and Cash enjoyed.  "Do you do
much physical exercise together?"
	"Sometimes we run together," Ned said sipping his
coffee. "This is really a delicious blend.  You said
it was Ethiopian?"
	"Yes," Shareem answered.  "I have it blended with a
few other strains, but basically it is Ethiopian."
	Shareem watched Ned closely as he finished his
coffee, placed the cup on the desk and slid back
relaxed into his chair.
	"I guess I'm starting to feel the effects of delayed
jet lag," he said slowly in a slightly raspy voice.
"Been so busy having a blast in London, I didn't
notice," he yawned.  "Excuse me, Mr. Shareem.  I don't
know what's come over me."
	Shareem pressed the button under his desk top for a
third time.
	"Funny.  I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton."
	Ned's mind was working, but his hold on his body was
slowly slipping away.  He was aware of his body, but
he had no control over it.  His arms fell over the
sides of his chair and his head slumped to his right
shoulder.
	The door in the wainscot opened again, only this time
it was a double door and no attempt was made to open
it silently.  Six men in military fatigues and combat
boots rushed into Shareem's office, one of them
pushing a large hospital type gurney.
	Five of these guards dragged Ned to the floor.  He
wanted to struggle, but his body would not obey; he
wanted to shout, but his tongue was mute.  His only
sensation was panic.  The guards began ripping off his
clothes.  He was aware his tie had been jerked loose
and with his suit coat, dress shirt and tee shirt
dragged over his head and down his arms; he knew his
shoes and socks were being pulled off, and his
trousers and briefs yanked down his legs and over his
feet.  He knew in his panic that he had been stripped
naked, but any bodily reaction was beyond his control.
	He was hoisted up and strapped to the gurney.  Sight
and sound were the only senses operating; he could
feel nothing nor move his body.  He could make no
sound.
Shareem came and stood by the gurney, looking down
smiling on his prisoner.  He began to draw his left
hand back and forth across Ned's chest, pinching his
plump nipples, then down over his belly.
	Ned knew what Shareem was doing to him, but that was
the extent of his response.  Shareem cupped Ned's
hefty cock and balls in his hands and began rubbing
and twisting and tugging on them.  In his mind, Ned
was horrified.  In his panic, he was terrified.
	One of the guards came and stood by the gurney
opposite Shareem.  He held a hypodermic needle in his
hand, and when Shareem nodded, he shoved it into Ned's
right arm.  In a few moments, Ned became aware of a
whirling in his mind, as though his consciousness were
spinning faster and faster, and then he spun out into
the darkness and was gone.
-0-
	Consciousness returned to Ned's brain like a deep
winter dawn, pale, shrouded, muffled.  Nothing to hear
or see in any clear fashion.  Slowly light and sound
began rotating into the center of Ned's eyes and
awareness.  His head hurt and he felt cold; his vision
was too blurry to isolate and focus. He closed his
eyes and slipped back into semi-consciousness until a
searing, fiery pain tore through his body, wrenching
him fully awake, howling from a mouth fully restored.
	When the blinding pain slashing him subsided, he
found he was looking into the face of one of the
guards who had burst into Shareem's office and taken
him; the man was stripped to the waist, wearing only
low slung fatigue trousers and  loose untied combat
boots.  He was holding a long, narrow, metal wand in
his hand and a malevolent smile on his face.
	"This is electric shocker," he said in an almost
incomprehensible accent.  "Feel it again," and he
jabbed the end of the metal wand into Ned's left
nipple, detonating a second explosion of gut
throttling agony.  Ned screamed again.  "Next time,"
the guard laughed derisively, "we hit your balls."
	Before his tormentor turned and walked away from him,
Ned realized his arms were stretched above his head,
his wrists shackled together and attached to a chain
hanging from the ceiling.  His legs were spread wide
apart, and his ankles were anchored to the floor.  He
was bathed in sweat from the pain still coursing
through his body, and when the guard stepped away, Ned
cried out again, but from a different pain, from his
anguished mind, not his tortured body.
	Cash was suspended ten feet in front of him in the
same way, stripped naked, his arms stretched above his
head, his legs spread wide, and Ned saw in stark
horror that his son had been denuded of all his body
hair from head to foot, and a steel ring hung around
his neck.  A cloth gag had been shoved into his mouth
and tied behind the back of his head.
	Ned twisted and strained against his restraints,
screaming his son's name over and over.  The guard who
had tortured Ned with his electric shocker walked up
to Cash, the metal wand in his hand.  He turned his
head toward Ned and shouted over Ned's cries, "See how
this one likes electric shocker," and he hit Cash in
the belly with the end of his wand.
	The youth convulsed against the chains and shackles
restraining him and screamed into his gag.  Ned howled
as loud as he could, "No. No. No. No. No." And the
guard guffawed loudly and struck Cash again on his
right nipple.
	"What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you
doing this for?" Ned cried and Cash kept screaming
over and over.
	Suddenly a voice roared over a PA system, "Silence!
Silence or I will have my guards use their electric
prods on the tenderest parts of your bodies.  Do you
understand?"
	"Why are you doing this?" Ned screamed again, and
again the guard hit Cash midway between his navel and
his cock.
	"If you speak again," the voice over the PA
thundered, "I will have your young whelp tortured with
prods for an hour."
	Ned bit his lip to keep Cash safe from the voice's
savage threat.  He could hear his son groaning as his
body was lacerated with bolts of agony.  After several
moments, the voice spoke again when Cash's cries
subsided.
	"This is Shareem, and if you so much as grunt, that
whimpering whelp of yours will suffer the
consequences.  Do you understand?"
	Still biting his lip, Ned slowly nodded his head and
desperately looked around this torture chamber and saw
a large window build into the wall at his far left
with Shareem standing behind it.
	"You two are my slaves," he growled. "I own you and I
can do whatever I want with you, and you will do
everything I command you to do or you will feel the
agony of my prods biting into your flesh.  Do you
understand that?
	Again Ned nodded his head slowly and silently.  Cash
was still wrapped in pain and did not respond.
	"Your lives as you knew them are over forever,"
Shareem snarled.  "No one knows where you are or will
ever discover your whereabouts.  All traces of your
connection with me have been eradicated. Your seats on
tomorrow's flight to Qassir will be occupied, your
credit cards will be used throughout the Kingdom and
the Arab Emerates, then the two of you will fly to
Myanmar for a wilderness adventure, and all traces of
you will disappear.  Now it is time to test your
ability to be slaves."
	Shaeem spoke his own language bruskly into his
microphone, and a second guard also stripped to the
waist joined the one standing at Cash's side.  This
guard too carried an electric prod.
	"The first thing you need to know as slaves is that
you no longer have names. You will be called 'slave'
from this moment on, throughout your lives, until the
moment of your death. But so that you may become
accustomed to your new identities," he sneared, "I
will call you 'older slave' and 'younger slave'.  So
let us begin."
	Again Shareem spoke his own language over the PA
system, and five more half naked guards trotted to Ned
and stood surrounding him; two held electric prods.
	"I will now have the guards release you from your
restraints, older slave, but hear me well, if you
struggle or try to break free, the younger slave will
die horribly in a whirlwind of electric fire.  Do you
understand me?"
	Ned again nodded his head, and the guards began to
unhook his wrists from the ceiling chain and his
ankles from the floor clamps; when his arms were free,
they unshackled his wrists."
	"Down on your hands and knees, slave"
	Ned complied in silence.
	"The younger slave across from you has suffered much
because of you; would you not agree?"
	Ned nodded his assent.
	"Good.  I'm glad you see it that way because you are
now going to atone for the pain you have caused him.
Crawl over to him on your hands and knees, then kneel
in front of him."
	Ned slowly did what he was told, the rough cement
floor biting into his knees and the palms of his
hands; he dreaded what Shareem's next command might
be.  When he was in place, on his knees in front of
Cash, "Now," Shareem gloated, "suck his young, silky
cock."
	Ned was stunned and horrified.
	"Do it," Shareem commanded, "or you will forever hear
this one's dying screams."
	Tears welled up in both Ned's and Cash's eyes, and
Ned slowly shook his head in disbelief.  How could
they possibly have come to this end?
	"Do it, slave, or be prepared to see the young one
convulse in agony until he dies.  Stroke his body.
Kiss his cock.  Lick it.  Blow on it.  Slide your
hands over his satin smooth buttocks.  Reach up and
play with his nipples just as my whores did for you
these past three nights.  Now suck his cock and give
this slave a taste of ecstasy>"
	Ned had no choice.  He couldn't let Shareem torture
his son to death.  He had to do what he was told to
do.  He had to suck his son's cock.  He looked up into
Cash's face and their eyes connected.  Tears ran down
their cheeks as Ned rotated his hands over Cash's hips
and buttocks.  Slowly he slid his lips over Cash's
cockhead and began to suck on it as he slid his mouth
down its base.
	Cash hung a huge, thick cock, and Ned could feel his
cheeks begin to bulge as it began to stiffen.
	"Suck it down your throat," Shareem commanded, "and
do not let any of the young slave's warm juice run out
of your mouth.  Swallow it all, or he will suffer."
	Ned grasped Cash's hips with his huge hands and began
to rock his son's body back and forth while sucking
his mouth tight around his cock, gouging its underside
with his tongue and forcing his mouth down again and
again to the hairless, glistening crotch before him.
	Instinctively, Ned began shoving his mouth faster and
faster up and down the length of Cash's stiffening
fuck muscle, swallowing hard; his cheeks sucked in
tight around, the hot, throbbing cock imprisoned
within.  The moans and twistings and glistening sweat
on Cash's body went unnoticed as lust frenzy obscured
Ned's revulsion to Shareem's command.
	Ned's arms, locked solidly around Cash's waist, held
the boy immovable, and with his fingers digging into
into his flesh, Cash surrendered to the incendiary
lust consuming him, his cock spitting ropes of hot cum
into his father's mouth and gulping throat.  Orgiastic
spasms convulsed the youngster's body; Ned greedily
sucked the man-boy's rigid, satin smooth fuck tube;
both minds inflamed beyond reason; neither able to
rise above the insane carving to writhe against naked
flesh.
	The horror of this deed will soon enough come to them
and be etched on their minds along with as endless
procession of monstrous horrors beyond imagining.


End of Chapter 24