Date: Thu, 23 Dec 2004 14:05:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Pleasure Slave, Part 7

PLEASURE SLAVE, By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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


Part 7

We went back into the gym, and Gary showed me the
control mechanisms in place - you had to touch your
name on a screen on each machine, and then it would
automatically set your parameters, and start to
monitor the time you spent on it.  "There' s a
check-up every week", Gary told me, "And if you
haven't put enough time in on each of the machines,
you're in trouble - unless, that is, a client has
hired you for a multiple day stay, and then you're not
necessarily expected to come back here to exercise."

As well as all the hurt from my caned ass, my ringing
and my 'skinning, I felt generally shattered - when
you're used to leading an active life, with lots of
exercise, you do feel it when you're not able to work
out, don't you?  So I was glad of the opportunity to
do some active exercise, but when I touched my name on
the weights machine, I soon realised the problem:  it
was set much higher than I would have chosen, and it
indicated to me that I needed to keep up a fairly
brisk pace for fifteen minutes, for it to count
towards my total at al!.  It was tough - I was soon
absolutely covered in sweat:  this was no "fun"
workout at my club, but real, hard, muscle-toughening
work.  I didn't think I could keep up the pace or the
effort for the whole time.  But I kind of knew I was
going to have to, to avoid punishment if I was to
fulfil my quota in the week, so I persevered.

Gary saw me when I'd finished, standing there, hands
on knees, trying to recover my breath, and he grinned
at me:  he, too, looked a bit out of breath, but it
seems that he was only generally required to do the
equivalent of hard jogging for his cardiovascular
good, as the intention was to keep him "slim looking"
and not build up his muscles too much.

Most of the other guys, I noticed, were having a hard
time of it, too.  And even when I did something simple
like running, they made it tough by titling the
machine at a very steep angle so that the run was all
uphill!

I couldn't do more than an hour, and I was exhausted
at the end of it.  And I'd always thought I was fit,
with my work, and the time I spent at the gym.  I was
now beginning to understand the difference between
being fit as a hobby, and being fit because my owner
considered that it would make me better at my job.
And as a slave, if my owner wanted me to be really
fit, I knew that I would have no choice - I couldn't
slacken off, or miss a day, or anything:  it would be
work, work, work, until he considered that my body was
perfect.

There were three other guys in the showers when I
decided to pack it in for that day, and I didn't mind
stripping off my sweat-soaked shorts and standing
there under the communal shower heads with them -
after all, I was in good shape myself, and even though
I'd lost my 'skin now, there was still more than
enough of my dick left to show them that I was very
much above average in that department!  We stood there
exchanging details of how long we'd got to serve for,
and from the way they were talking about life, I
started to get the impression that they all thought
they'd got it easy.  "Look, Steve", a guy who I could
see from his tattoos was called Sam, "There's a lot
worse slave assignments you could have pulled if you
hadn't been bought by this place - the road gangs, the
mines, or just stuck for sixteen hours a day, seven
days a week, working on some fucking production line,
trying to keep the costs down enough to make it
worthwhile to manufacture here - it's about the only
way a company can compete with those coolies now,
using slaves.  So this is pretty good - most of the
clients are pretty nice guys on the whole, with very
few bastards, and once you get used to it, it can be a
lot of fun."

He turned away from me then, and to my amazement took
one of the hoses from the wall, handed it to the guy
standing next to him, and asked him to help him out.
Without even batting an eyelid his friend stood there,
probing at Sam's hole and gently inserting the nozzle,
then Sam just waited as his insides filled.  He walked
casually over to the lavatory bowl, squatted there for
a moment or so, then came back for more.  "This is the
worst bit, Steve", he added conversationally, as if
talking o another guy whilst you're administering an
enema to yourself is the most naturel thing in the
world. "But you soon get used to it.  And we don't
normally work more than every other day, to give them
time to get all the tests done.  I'm working tonight,
of course, but I'll have the day off tomorrow - that's
better than a lot of free men achieve, isn't it?"

Gary came in then, stripped off, and came over and
joined us under the water.  To my embarrassment and
amazement, he dropped to his knees and tried to soap
my dick and balls, and I had to push him away.  Sam
saw this, laughed, and said "You need to watch young
Gary, Steve!  He's a real cock hound - always after
the first taste or feel of a new dick!  Hey, Gary...
What's wrong with me?  Fed up with my dick, are you?"

"You're working, Sam... You know our owners don't like
us to play around when we're going to work - we need
to keep our cum for the paying clients."

"Aw, come on, Gary!  Come and just let me fuck you a
little bit - I won't cum - but I need to be reminded
what a young, sweet ass is like, as the guy I've got
tonight is really old and flabby.  You were eager
enough yesterday.... But was that before you set eyes
on Steve?  Are you going to let him fuck you tonight,
Gary?  Oh, come on... Before I get jealous..."

I could tell they were joking with each other, but
began  to wonder if they might be serious - I mean,
you just don't joke about fucking another guy, do you?
 Amongst my buddies - or should that be my former
buddies as they always say that free men and slaves
can't be friends - would they still be friends with me
as a slave if I met them in the street? - we didn't
make jokes like that;  even when we were a bit drunk
and on a fishing trip without women, we never really
talked about sex:  one guy who did, always bragging
about how he fucked his current girlfriend, was always
regarded as not being quite a gentleman.

As Sam trotted off to expel another load of his enema,
Gary looked at me and was suddenly serious.  "If you
do want to fuck, Steve, we'd better do it now...
There's no space in a close confinement cage for stuff
like that..."

"Gary,  I don't want to fuck, OK?  I don't want to
fuck other guys, or have them fuck me!  I don't do
that sort of thing..."

"Steve, it's allowed - our owners think it makes for a
good atmosphere here if we're all fuck buddies.  We're
not supposed to do it on a day when we're booked to
work, but on the other days we can fuck or whatever,
if we want to.  I heard Master Jed tell Master Brett
that it was better that we should  'let off steam'
with each other, rather than charging around in
testosterone-fuelled frustration."

"No, Gary!  I don't want to fuck or be fucked.  If I
get too frustrated, I'll do what I always do,
I'll...."

I stopped there, realising that I was about to say
that I'd jerk myself off.  Well, you just don't do
that, do you?  I mean, every guy knows that every
other guy jerks off, but you never admit it, do you?

"Hey, Steve... If you mean you'll jerk off, then we
can do it together... That's fun!  Does that mean
those scabs and stuff on your dick have healed....?"

"Mind your own fucking business, Gary!  My dick and
its status are my business, not yours."

He just kind of shrugged, and with a kind of sly smile
said "That's just where you're wrong, Steve!  Your
dick is now the business of Master Jed and Master
Brett!  Dicks, and ass holes, are very much their
business.  But you'll soon learn... Come on, let's get
dressed, and go and eat - you heard Master Brett say I
could have a double ration, didn't you?"

Gary's description of what we then did, "getting
dressed", hardly seemed completely correct as all we
had were the tiny shorts, but he showed me where the
pile was - just two sizes, one that was just above the
obscene for him, and the other larger size, which was
definitely obscene on me!   We then went through into
the bunk room, and there were a number of the guys
just lounging around on the beds, and some were
sitting around the table at one end of the room.  Gary
went straight to a spigot on the wall and got a beaker
of water, then touched a screen against his name, and
there was a whirring noise and slave chow fell into a
bowl.

"See, Steve?  Master Brett is a good master - I really
have got double rations.  Come on, get yours..."

I looked at the screen, found "Steve", and touched it.
 What looked like a very small portion of slave chow
fell into a bowl, and Gary and I went over to join the
guys sitting around the table.

Two guys moved apart to make room for me to sit, and
introduced themselves, then looked at my bowl.  "Ah,
they think you're too well fed - don't worry - it
always happens when you first arrive:  they really cut
your portion down for the first week or so.   Coupled
with the hard exercise, it soon burns off any excess
fat - not that you've got much, I must say - and it
keeps you hungry.  There's a feeling here that a
hungry slave is more attentive to the client, in the
hope that the client will reward him with a few
peanuts or something... And it also means that you're
very keen to mop up any cum that may be going!"

As he said this, my companion, who I saw was named
Mike, had run his hand over my belly to feel my
general tone, and was smiling slightly at the end of
the sentence.  I couldn't decide whether he was joking
or not about being keen to eat cum as I was so hungry.
 But I began to understand more of these guys' lives,
the life I was going to live:  it wasn't thought to be
at all unusual to touch another guy's body, evidently,
as Mike had run his hand over me without even asking,
or seeming to think it was in any way important.  I
mean, you don't touch another guy, do you?  Especially
not somewhere like his belly?  And especially not when
it's bare!  They obviously had a different view of
personal space, and the way one guy treats another,
than I then did.

As the conversation flowed around the table and they
discussed the various clients they'd been with the
previous night, or were going to tonight, I sensed a
real feeling of camaraderie.  We might all be slaves,
and slaves required to sell our bodies to other men,
but we were also buddies - I thought that this at
least might make it a bit more bearable.  And it
seemed they all had almost an affection for Gary -
form the odd bits and pieces dropped into the
conversation I gathered that most of them were in
their late twenties to mid thirties, and that Gary was
very much the "baby", being only twenty two.  Like me,
most of the guys were fairly big and well muscled, and
there again Gary was the odd man out, being slighter
and generally more wiry.

Gary held his own in the general conversation and the
kind of joshing that guys do when they're shooting the
breeze, though.  When he was laughingly called "a bit
of a shrimp" by one of the guys, he shouted out "Well,
Larry, the last time I measured my dick against yours
in the shower, it wasn't at all clear to me who was
the shrimp!", and the other guys joined in the
laughter - they all seemed to know that Gary's dick
was above average for his body size.

I was just finishing chewing down my slave chow when
another slave came in:   he must have been six two at
least, and, unlike the rest of us, he was black - that
really dark, deep black that you usually only see in
films about Saharan Africa, not the kind of muddy
brown that most of the blacks are in our country (some
say as a result of interbreeding with the original
slave holders all those years ago).   They'd had to
use a pale coloured tattoo ink to make his name stand
out, and there it was, "Jomo".

He came and sat next to me, and we all squeezed along
the bench to make room.  I was getting used now to
having the other guy's naked bodies pressed into mine,
and Jomo's felt perhaps just a little warmer than
mine.   "So, the new boy", he said to me.
"Experienced, or being trained?"

"Being trained, I guess...  I didn't go with guys...."

"So that was s your loss all your life!  I'll be
looking forward to doing a bit of teaching later in
the week, then.  It should be fun:  being as thatched
as you are makes you almost as much of a rarity as I
am, and I like a rugged, hairy guy for a change."

"What do you mean?"

"Hasn't anyone told you?  Master Brett and Master Jed
like to do the initial training of a new guy, as I
guess they like fresh, virgin meat.  But before you're
let out to clients, you need lots of experience and
expertise, so the rest of us get to train you. You'll
soon get to know every dick, every mouth, and every
hole around this table!  And you get a double ration
of me, as I'm the only black - they really want to
make sure that you don't have any prejudices against
black dick.  There was a complaint once from a client
- some guy over here from Europe on a conference or
something, who just didn't understand that blacks
don't frequent this type of establishment - when the
slave he had hired wasn't as properly enthusiastic as
he should have been when he was told to get down and
pleasure the client's black hole with his tongue.
The client even went to the City and complained, and
we almost got shut down!  So now Master Jed and Master
Brett make sure all the guys here are unprejudiced,
or, if they are prejudiced, they don't show it!  I'm
the token black on the staff, and I'm mainly used for
'familiarisation' lessons with new guys, and to make
sure the credentials of the rest are more or less up
to date."

"So we don't get many black clients?"

"No, almost none.  I suppose they're a bit more into
religion, or something.  Or maybe no one has ever told
them that guys are fun for sex."

"But don't a lot of our clients ask to go with a black
guy - I'd have thought you'd have been pretty busy..."

Jomo laughed.  "No, Steve, they don't!  I guess most
of you white guys have heard that all us black studs
are REALLY well hung, and you don't want to risk the
embarrassment of having your little boy dicks
alongside a real man cock!"

All the other guys around the table started to shout
and yell at him, saying they all knew that they were
just as well hung as he was, and to stop being so
stupid.

He turned back to me, and went on "But actually it is
true that over ninety eight percent of our clients are
white guys, and they all choose white guys to go with.
 And you can understand it, I suppose - a white guy
that's into the dark meat probably likes to live life
a bit dangerously, or is a bit more daring.  And if
you're like that, you don't come to an upmarket place
like this!  You go to the cheaper end of the market,
or even risk going into the black bars on the South
side and pick up a bit of the freelance trade:  the
risk only adds to the excitement of humping a black
ass.  About the only time I ever get to see clients is
when we're putting on a display..."

"A display?"

"You know, or perhaps you don't.... When there's a
convention in town, they quite often hire a group of
us guys to do a performance for them - they're so
liqueured up that they can't get an erection for
themselves, but they can sit there and watch us all
fucking each other.  Then they all like to see a black
taking it from a load of whites... Until, that is, I
fuck a white guy in turn.  The last time it was Gary -
they all hurled abuse at me as my big black body
covered the little white boy, and fucked him so hard
he screamed!  It was a huge success - just what they
paid for."

"Yes, nigga - but when I then fucked you, they all
cheered even more", Gary retorted. "That's what guys
like to see - a big black ass performing its proper
role, as a hole for a white dick to fuck!"

All the guys, including Jomo were all laughing at
this. And I could tell that they all thought it was
just part of the general banter that went on amongst
them, and there was no ill feeling on either Gary's
part, for having to take Jomo's dick, or Jomo, for
taking Gary's.  Gary turned to me then and said
"Come on, Steve, if you've finished - no point in
delaying - remember, Master Brett said it was the
close confinement cage tonight...."

He got up and motioned for me to follow him, and some
of the guys started to clap and laugh, telling me to
"Be careful with that one!".  I wondered what he fuck
they meant, but it seemed to be a matter of amusement
to them, so I wasn't particularly worried.

Gary led me through to the gym area, and from a
cupboard at the far end rolled out a cage, literally.
I mean, when I've said I was in a cage before, I've
meant a cell, really, with bars forming one side.  But
this thing truly was a cage, just like those things
you see at airports when an owner has to transport a
large pet.  The only difference was the shape -
instead of being roughly cubic, this one was a bit
like a coffin - seven feet long, I suppose, and about
four feet wide and four feet high.  Gary opened the
top - the whole top opened, on hinges, and motioned
for me to get in.  The base was covered with a thin
mattress, and I went to step in.

"No, Steve, lose the shorts!", Gary said, smiling.  So
I shrugged, let them drop to the floor, and lay down.
  Gary stood there watching me, then a guard came in.


"OK, Gary.... In with you", he said, "Then I'll lock
you in."

With a huge smile on his face, Gary dropped his
shorts, then, to my amusement, leapt in beside me,
lying alongside me in the very confined space.

"Right, you guys, enjoy yourselves.... See you
tomorrow morning", the guard said cheerily as he
closed the lid on us, and snapped a latch closed.

We lay there, and I tried to move my body away from
Gary's, but the thing was only just big enough to hold
us both, and there was no real way I could keep from
touching him except by forcing my own body against the
bars, which was very uncomfortable.  Still, I did it,
but it made no difference - Gary just slid close to
me, rested himself all along the length of me, then
put his face close to mine and said "Hey, Steve - the
ideas is that we get to know each other, right?  Don't
be shy - you can't be comfortable like that!  And
you'll find it can get a bit cool in here all night
long, unless you've got another body to be close to.
Come on, be sensible...."

As he was saying this, I could feel his legs pressing
against mine, and he managed to insert one of his
between my two.  He started to bend his leg, and I
felt his warm thigh pressing against my ass hole.
"Come on, Steve.... That's better, isn't it?  I can
feel your hot ass on my thigh.... Now, you do the
same, and we'll both be much better....."

Of course I didn't  want to, but it was so cramped,
and I could see that we'd both be better off like
that, so very tentatively I raised my leg, and pressed
my thigh up between his legs.  It felt very odd at
fist - Gary was delightfully warm up there, and I felt
something I'd never experienced before - a guy's
loose, soft sac lying against my hairy skin.  Gary
responded by sighing deeply in contentment, putting
his arm around  my body, and pulling himself closer to
me. My dick was being pressed close to him, and I
realised that what I could feel was his dick and his
pubes - and for some reason, I found this exciting, so
exciting that my own dick started to stiffen.

We couldn't sit up or anything in the very enclosed
space, but Gary's head suddenly went down on my chest,
and he began to suck and tease my nipples.  I
wriggled, and tried to push his head away:  he stopped
for a moment, looked up at me, smiling, and murmured
"Oh come on, Steve - I know you like this.  I saw how
you reacted when Master Brett played with your
tits.... I wish I had lovely juicy tits like yours,
and these fantastic dark aureoles and all this
hair.... Mmmmmm..."

He plunged down again, and it was such an exciting
feeling that all I could do was throw my head back as
far as I could and start to laugh.  My dick had other
ideas, though, and went ramrod solid, and I
experienced that wonderful sensation of another guy's
skin against my bare dick head for the first time.

Gary took hold of one of my hands and put it on his
chest, and started to push it backwards and forwards
over his nips - they were very unlike mine, being just
like tiny, hard nubs under my palm, but even so, the
action seemed to excite Gary, as whenever his mouth
was not full of me, he was kind of groaning in
excitement.  We went on like this for what seemed like
a long time, then he put his face close to mine again.
  We were both laughing - no, it was more like
giggling.   I hadn't done that since I was a kid -
that half-insane, helpless feeling that you have when
you just can't stop yourself.    Finally we quietened
down again, and just lay there, our bodies locked
together, hard dicks against each others bellies.  I
was aware for the first time of just how wonderful
another guy's body feels when it's really close to you
- sure, I suppose I'd had this kind of thing from a
couple of my girl friends, but it wasn't the same:
they weren't hard like Gary, and just didn't feel as
good with their layers of subcutaneous fat.

"So, Steve, not so bad is it?"

"Well, no...."

"So, do you want to fuck?  I'm not allowed to fuck
you, as Master Brett always likes to take the cherry
of new guys.  But you can fuck me... That's allowed."

"No."

"Hey, I'm sorry.  Is your dick still hurting from
where they had you 'skinned?  Hey, it's pretty neat,
whilst I think of it - I meant to tell you that having
your dick head partially covered like that is really
cool:  I'm sure a lot of the clients will  really go
for it."

"No, thanks for asking, though - my dick's feeling
fine now."

"So why don't we fuck?"

"I don't fuck guys, Gary."

"Oh, come on!  Why ever not?  I don't mind - in fact,
I'd like to have that dick of yours inside me."

"No, Gary."

"Oh, Steve, I'm sorry, I should have realised.....
You're shy, aren't you?  Look, it doesn't matter if
you can't do it properly - we've all got to learn.
I'll show you - there's no need to be embarrassed..."


"Gary, NO!  I've told you, I don't fuck guys.  It's
bad enough having to lie here like this, with your
dick sticking in to me...."   Although I protested
like that, I suppose I was a bit ashamed and
embarrassed, as I really didn't know what to do,
actually.

"Steve, get real!  The reason why Master Brett ordered
the close confinement cage is so that you can get used
to feeling another man's body against yours.  A lot of
guys like you are a bit shy at first - they seem to
think there's something wrong with the touch of
another man.  But there isn't, you know... It's
perfectly natural...."

"Look, I'm not shy, and I'm not scared.  I just don't
think it's right...."  Well, I wasn't going to admit I
didn't know what I was doing, would I?

"But you've got no choice, Steve.  Your owner decides
what's right and what's wrong for the next ten years,
remember that.   And you're wasting time now - you and
I could be discovering how much fun it is...."

"NO, Gary.  How many more times do I have to say it?"

He went silent then, and I tried to move my body as
far from his as possible, and go to sleep.    But of
course, as you'll know, when you're sleeping with
another guy, especially when there's not a lot of
space, you get disturbed all the time, don't you?  I
could feel the heat of Gary's body against mine, and
he tossed and turned gently a lot of the time, so I
kept waking up and I suppose I was only dozing,
really.  To try to make myself more comfortable I
spooned up behind him, so that his back was pressed
into my chest, and put an arm around him to sort of
hold him steady - this seemed to calm him:  perhaps he
got some comfort from being held like that.  But I had
another problem a couple of moments later - the
constant small movements of his buttocks against my
crotch gave me an erection, and it was bloody
uncomfortable.  In desperation I put a foot between
his calves and levered his legs apart.  My dick then
slipped between his thighs, and when I lowered his
legs it was comfortably trapped there.  I could feel
the warm moistness of his ass against my dick, and the
pressure of his soft inner thighs on me was not
unpleasant.  Almost against my will I tried moving
myself backwards and forwards a bit, and my dick
responded by sending waves of excitement to my brain.
It wasn't as good as fucking one of my girlfriends,
but it was pretty close.

I knew it was wrong.  I mean, I shouldn't be doing
that to the sleeping guy nestled against me, should I?
 But you know how it is - when you're sexually excited
and you've got a raging hard on, there's just no way
you can stop, is there?  So I pressed on, kind of
jerking myself off, using Gary's thighs in stead of my
hand, and, of course, the inevitable happened - I shot
my load.  The hand of my arm that was draped over him
had wandered down, almost without my noticing, and had
brushed his dick and come to rest just below his balls
- it now was all wet and slimy with my cum, and I
realised what I'd done - Gary's thighs would now be
covered in my cum.  Oh fuck - what was I going to do?

It seems Gary was playing possum, though, as the
instant I'd finished I felt his hand take mine, then
he pulled forward slightly, releasing my dick from its
warm confinement.  He turned over and faced me, and
ran his hands lightly over my body- his hands slimed
with my cum.  I could feel his breath on my neck, and
that special smell of cum drifted up to my nose as it
was forced out from between our moving bodies which
acted rather like a bellows.

"Oh, Steve....", Gary sighed.  "Oh, Steve.... I love
your body.  I love having you close to me like
this....  You said you didn't want to fuck, but you
wanted to be with me after all, didn't you?"

"Gary... Look, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to cum.... I
didn't want to fuck you, I don't fuck guys...."

"But you do like me, don't you, Steve?"

"Of course I do.  But liking a guy doesn't mean....."

"Well it should, Steve... Here....."  As he murmured
this, his face still pressed close to my neck, he had
taken his hand in mine and moved it down his body.  I
could feel the blood pulsing away underneath his warm
skin, through the thin sheen of sweat that covered
him. Over his belly I moved, then into the wiry
thicket of his clipped pubes.  Gary moved my hand down
a little further, and I felt his dick for the first
time.  Well, I suppose it was the first dick of
another guy that I'd ever felt.

You'll all know that excitement the first time you
touch another dick - the warmth of it, the silky
softness of the skin, but with the concealed
excitement of something hard and solid underneath....
the way it seems to move of its own accord, giving
little jerks and twitches as you touch it, quite out
of control of the guy it belongs to, almost as if it
has a mind of its own.  I ran my hand lightly along
the shaft, feeling it against the base of my fingers
as they almost instinctively curled around it, and
then the excitement as the flange around the head
bumped into my thumb and forefinger.    I just wanted
to know more, to explore this exciting new sensation,
and I allowed my thumb to stray onto Gary's dick head,
and lightly brush his piss slit.  It felt all moist -
surely he couldn't be leaking piss?  I went to move my
thumb away almost in horror, until I sensed that this
was not piss, but pre-cum.

Gary was breathing hard, and his breath against the
delicate skin of my neck, under my ear, was somehow
exciting.  He moved his body closer to me, wrapping
his legs between mine, and was murmuring  "Yes...
Yes... Yes, Steve.... Please.... Go on....."

Lightly, scared at first about what I was doing, I
stroked his dick gently, then as it was clear that he
was responding with huge enjoyment to what I was
doing,  I speeded up.  His little sighs and moans of
pleasure soon became big gasps, and I felt that
incredible sensation of his dick going even harder:
you all know how it is - you think the other guy's
dick couldn't be harder, but as you stroke and tease
it, somehow it finds even more power and strength, and
it responds to your hand by thickening even more, and
resisting any efforts you might make to push it down.
The inevitable happened, of course - Gary shot his cum
all over me as we lay there:  I could feel it splash
against my belly -  but I was so excited by the feel
of his dick that  I carried on jerking him off.  His
whole body arched and convulsed and his little moans
of excitement and joy changed to big shouts of "No...
Steve... No... Stop...."

I was terrified for a moment, as I thought I'd hurt
him!  Then he hugged me, pulling us so close that we
were almost as one body, and I heard him laughing,
almost hysterically.   "Gary... Are you OK?", I asked
nervously.

"Oh, Steve... Of course I am.  Who wouldn't be, lying
here with you?  But I'm like a lot of guys - once I've
shot, my dick is incredibly sensitive, and if you
carry on stroking me it's almost painful.  Well, you
know, not exactly painful, but the sensation is so
strong that it actually hurts, in a nice sort of
way...."

There was no way of knowing how long we lay there,
with Gary and me locked together like that, but we
were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a guard,
who undid the top of the cage so that we could climb
out.

"See, I told you that Gary's a bit of a dick hound",
the guard said to me laughingly.  "Look at you
two...."

To my horror I realised that my body was slimed with
Gary's cum, and as I looked down I could see little
balls of it in my pubes, looking almost like tiny
glittering decorations on a Christmas tree.  I went to
cover myself with my hands, but Gary and the guard
were both smiling and talking, as if it was the most
natural thing in the world - which, I suppose it is,
really, two guys enjoying each other - and I relaxed.

"Come on, Steve...", Gary said, pushing me forwards
with his hand on my butt.  "Let's go and shower, then
have something to eat.... You'd better start working
out early, as Master Brett said he was going to
continue our training later on."

End Of Part Seven