Date: Mon, 05 Mar 2007 15:20:01 +0000
From: Drin Whethers <cobradelight@hotmail.com>
Subject: Royal Nightmare - 5

			ROYAL NIGHTMARE -- 5

By Cobradelight
M/M, B&Dm etc

Previously....In one day I'd gone from a King's trusted assistant to a lowly
slave -- all because I wanted extra money at my ruler's expense.  King Nikos
had discovered the treason and arranged for my captivity in Yemen.  At first
I could not believe it, it must be some sort of huge joke.  Then I was
swinging upside down, my huge cock stiff as a board from an injection, being
processed with dozens of other guys.   It was a most humbling experience,
one I will never forget, the various stations, the good-natured American
Marines and the silence as I waited to appear for auction.  I'd disobeyed my
guards and for punishment they'd worked a rod up my as that drove me nearly
insane with its constant itch.  After I squatted to relieve the pressure
they made me retain that position.  The arrival at my owner's estate was no
less horrifying, an examination the Mistress. A further act of disobedience
resulted in a trip to the woodshed where Troy, the stern, American overseer,
blistered my bottom to the cheers of common laborers. I was then displayed
at a royal banquet that night only to have my thick body hair publicly
trimmed.   After the party....

Now -- I hung writhing on the round wheel, naked, my cock hard and purplish,
the veins bulging, from the injection and whipping Marcus had just given.  I
was alone and left to my thoughts which were scrambled.  I tried to make
sense of it all, to rationalize my ill treatment as a temporary punishment
but the reality smothered all attempts to accept my fate. In the giant
mirror on the wall I stared and once again wave after wave of shame roiled
over me as I contemplated my nakedness (well, boots, collar and cock ring)
and unflagging dick.  My pubes had been closely trimmed as had my armpits
and Troy had taken his time and scraped off every black curl that had been
growing up my shaft.  It looked so fucking huge. My balls ached with pent-up
cum as I was kept on edge.

My cock -- how proud I had been of its length and girth, taking my time to
dry off in the gym showers, standing naked while shaving, aware that the men
cast envious glances at my crotch.  Now, exposed and vulnerable, it loomed
as a badge of my helpless passions.  At last two Arab guards approached.
They used minimal English.

"You be real good, understand?"  I nodded my head and said, "Yeah."  The
other one drew back and landed a loud smack on my reddened rump.

"Say `yes sir', understand?"  I nodded vigorously, almost shouted, "Yes I
understand" Another loud wallop followed and I cried out and jumped.  "Say
again, slave."

"Yes Sir, yes sir, I understand."  I spoke loudly and rapidly.  These two
young men, probably no more than 19 years old and likely illiterate grinned
at one another.  This was so difficult to accept after having had everyone
from ministers to presidents greet me respectfully.  I was in a foreign land
at the mercy of these local lads who took their jobs quite seriously.   One
of them placed a hand on my head and pushed me down to the dreaded squat as
I reluctantly laced my hands behind my head. He bent closer, looked me right
in the eye and grabbed my pulsing hardon.  He looked at his pal with a grin
then back at me.

"Mr. Troy say walk like this.  Keep back real straight."  The other lad
laughed and gave my cock some extra pressure. "This stay straight too."
They guffawed as I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking back tears.  I tried to
remain still, trembling, waiting for the order to move.  They giggled at my
deep groans as I began the slow trek to my next trial.  The place was
closing down for the night, workmen screwed in light bulbs, cleaning ladies
dusted and local help vacuumed the carpets and scrubbed the walls.  They all
had a smile for me until they noticed the monster between my legs.  The
women would blush and the men open their mouths in surprise and glee, yell
out to a buddy who would then look.

My presence in the midst of these workers was insufferable.  All I could do
was inch forward and accept their looks and unknown remarks.  A jail or even
a brigade of slaves would be preferable to this exposure.  I did not
understand the young men but tried to keep up with them.   We entered a
bedroom of sorts where several slaves rested on small mattresses on the
floor, arms over their heads.  Their wrists and ankles were in a stock-type
apparatus and they were so hard their dicks bobbed in the air off their
stomachs.  Two American Marines walked around keeping an eye on the men and
their rigid organs.  I entered and one of the lads walked over to the guards
and they pointed to me.  They again talked and the Marine shook his head,
laughing.

I did a double take, tied rightly to a chair was the lean redhead I'd seen
at the auction. He looked like a street tough with his rough scowl and
barely suppressed attitude. The tats on his upper arms inflated as he
flexed, unable to move a muscle.  He still had a defiant expression but it
was tempered by a hard dick that pointed upward.  I was forced into a chair
facing him, our knees rubbing. A Marine scooped a drop of clear cum resting
on the tip of his cock and held it out to me. I shook my head but his frown
made me open and taste a guy's cum for the first time.  It was hot and sour
and he chuckled at the face I made and asked how it tasted.  .

I was soon bound like him, all attempts at movement failing. I was gagged
and my head placed into a downward position and immobilized. My eyes could
search the area and I looked at him - red hair, early 20's, fit, his cock
long and straining.  His eyes widened when one of the guards held a jar over
his crotch and liquid honey poured over the over the tip of his red dick.  I
stared at my own thrusting organ as the thick, sweet stuff slowly coated my
knob that was swollen so tight the cum flowed constantly out of the slit and
combined with the honey.  The warm mixture flowed down the shaft slowly as
the Arab guys returned with barely disguised grins and two kittens that were
placed in our laps.

It was one of the most excruciating, agonizing and sensual acts ever
devised.  The kittens meowed and began licking.  Their little feet climbed
on our stomachs as they reached to get the nectar, licking slowly but
steadily up the shaft.  I shivered and broke out in a cold  sweat as they
positioned themselves, their little paws pressing deep in my short pubes.
The other guy trembled, his face and torso beet red, making pitiful noises
behind the gag as his little pet licked without ceasing.  At last the two
gave a meow and jumped down.  I closed my eyes, breathed easier then bolted
upright when another pair was brought in.

"Look, Taylor, those big toes are curling like crazy."  Our toe was the only
part of our body left free and they were wiggling like mad.  The torturous,
tiny licks got worse as they worked drew closer to the ultra-sensitive knob.
I shut my eyes when they reached the ridge of skin that circled under the
head, the little strokes indescribable as jolts of sensation kept popping my
brain.  I strained to come yet the quick little flickers only kept me right
on the edge.  I glanced at the other slave and his kitten's tongue was
buried in his pubes, darting deep in the red curls as he moaned and
shivered.  I was looking at him when a big hand gripped the back of my neck
and a low American voice spoke in my ear.

"Keep your eyes on your own pecker, understand?"  I tried to say "Yes sir"
as I gulped and looked down, barely stifling a sob that was heard despite
the gag. He knelt beside me, threw and arm around my shoulders and leaned
over as I shook harder.

"You look at your buddy's dick again and you'll suck it dry."  I managed to
make some garbled sound as he knelt, taking a rest.  My legs were wide open
and I sobbed in sheer confusion, the rough treatment, the sexual torment and
now this Marine who knelt beside me making sure I watched my tormented
prick.  For some reason, this humiliation, his closeness, kneading the back
of my neck in this quiet place, seemed worse than the licks of the cats.  As
a guy he had to know my desperation and again it hit - he was a man and knew
exactly how I felt and that sent hot waves of shame coursing thru my body.

Was this treatment designed to break a slave in the early going, to vanquish
any thoughts of rebellion?  I obeyed these new masters almost pathetically,
doing what they asked in the hope that I would receive kind treatment in the
future.  Our gags were removed and the guards left, leaving us bound,
blinking at each other and our ferocious stiff cocks. At some point I fell
into a restless slumber filled with horrible dreams that I could not
remember the next morning.

The next morning we were untied and crawled to a john which we both
desperately needed. We sat side by side, inches apart on, on open toilets as
guards stood nearby.  I hated sharing a bathroom and being forced to
publicly perform this private act was yet anther blow to my psyche.  I
needed a wank something awful but instead sat with my hands locked behind my
head, making loud, embarrassing noises as I completed my task.  We were
allowed to wipe ourselves as the guards held their noses and watched with
fake grins.  The quick shower I was allowed restored some measure of pride
even if the two of us were forced to jostle under a single showerhead and we
were expressly forbidden to rub our crotches.  I no longer smelled and felt
half-human again even thought I was on my hands and knees crawling to
breakfast.

Some slaves had scrambled eggs and sausage while the rest of us had a kind
of mush that was bland but filling.  Red, my companion in agony, had been
here only three days.  He was from Philadelphia and worked on car engines
before he was persuaded to participate in a stupid robbery.  We were talking
lowly when we felt a presence behind us and froze.  The man did not move and
I swallowed, waiting.

"Raise those asses, get on tiptoes, palms flat!"  Both of us scrambled to
strike that godawful position.  I pressed flat and raised my feet as did he.
  The Marine who'd ordered this stood nearby as we both both breathed
coarsely, holding ourselves aloft to satisfy his whim, waiting for the next
order.

"Good job."  He stroked my tender bottom and I bit my lip hard trying to
contain my mortification.  "I see somebody got taught a good lesson."  I
panted, blushing, and then I glanced at Red who was quivering and muttering
under his breath, his eyes shut. He took a sharp breath, bit his lip and I
knew something was happening to him but could not see. We looked at one
another and instantly understood each other's plight. Somhow that made it
all the more appalling, grown men sharing these indignities.  The guard
actually spoke to some slaves, discussing their routines or news from the
city.  One in particular he talked with and at last I realized, stunned,
that he had been a former guard here.  I had no idea what he had done -- only
that he had another 2 months to go on his sentence.

"Get busy."  We had crawled down the long runners to a large round room and
the first thing I saw was a bucket and brush.  I scrubbed side by side with
Red so that we could whisper when the guard was not near.  We had been
toiling for half an hour when a loud voice asked if we had been "fixed" for
the morning. A shared laugh followed and a guard walked close, his footsteps
heavy.

"How could I forget your boosters?"  I scrubbed carefully and felt the
needle jab into my rump.  "You wanna look your best for all the visitors
walking through."  It was only a matter of minutes until the surge hit my
loins.  From my left a loud "Oh Fuck" was heard and the next time I looked
his cock was extended, the tip red and wet, seemingly at the point of
explosion. I had seen my own hardon of course but had never seen another
guy's up close and at leisure until the last day.  His cock was long and
curved upward, the top third with the smooth, tight skin lighter than the
lower part.

The work was drudgery, boring but not extremely difficult.  I can't say I
grew used to my erection but at least I could learn to forget it for long
periods of time.  Occasionally I'd realize that I was only partially or
semi-hard.  Yet it refused to stay that way because of the movement or the
slightest touch.  If a guard noticed our cocks had softened he had a small
little brush he applied.

The first time this happened to me I was so stunned I could barely move.  He
had made me rise up on my knees, hands behind my neck and then he dipped the
little bristles in the cleaning water and started making long strokes down
the length of my cock.  I gasped as it instantly began to swell, rising up
in the air until it pointed vertical, pulsing angrily at the ceiling. Still
the little stroked did not cease and I began to thrust forward with my hips
at the gathering storm. Then he pulled back and left me undulating
helplessly. I actually begged him to continue and let me come but in 30
seconds I was once again scrubbing a granite slab while my cock buzzed.

This was my life for the next three days until the next morning I noticed a
change.  We were hustled off to a transport van where we crawled up the ramp
and stayed in position -- nine naked men closely packed in three neat rows on
hands and knees. I faced the guard who had hopped on board, yelled that we
were packed and lit a cigarette.  He sat on the railing behind the cab, his
boots under my face, watching us.  We were allowed to whisper -- it depended
on the guard I learned -- and look out at the never-ending sand.  Although I
had not received the dreaded injection my cock hung heavily, swollen and I
tried not to think of my full balls and my overpowering need to jerk.
Besides the four Americans there was a Frenchman, Italian, Algerian, local
guy and me.  All of us were very fit, in prime shape you might say, and all
of us were taller than average.  Those who purchase slaves tend toward a
certain type I guess.

I smelled the sea before we heard it and a low anxiety rose within me as we
pulled to a stop.  It was happening right before me, this transformation to
a new life so casually and effortlessly.  It was as if this were natural,
the nakedness, the horrible positions, the scoldings and punishment as if we
were 6 years old.  We crawled down the ramp and when I looked up at the gang
of rough local workers, milling around, talking to one another, paying us no
mind, my heart skipped a beat. One man caught my stare and spat in derision,
turning his back on me.

We were made to sink down to the miserable squat, all nine of us, and slowly
waddle to the dock.  I headed up the rear and what a sight we made, a row of
muscular guys bent low, inching forward, farts and groans and gasps breaking
out from our little group.  We moved slowly, broad backs and wide chests
shiny in the bright sun.  The workers slowly walked over and waited, bemused
at our sweaty, strained movements with dangling cocks and red faces.  The
waves crashed, the wind whistled on the beach and my tears flowed as a
strange calm seemed to descend.  This was an ancient routine, presenting the
slaves for daily toil, so why was I so affected?

We lined up and faced the ocean and now I saw several vessels and in the
distance, on another dock, another line of naked men standing before a mob
of workers.  Three captains walked up to the guards and spoke.  Few words
were spoken as they studied us.  I tried not to think about my pressing need
and suddenly felt the familiar stirring between my legs.  Oh no, not here in
front of all these men. I bit my lip but as I stood in "position" my cock
began swelling.  The harder I tried to ignore it the worse it grew and then
it attracted attention and I heard a tickled voice shouting and a lad
pointing in my direction.    A group walked closer as my cock began its
journey to a standing position.

"I've heard of friendly greetings but this is carrying it a little too far,
pal."  One of them reached and squeezed my huge cock and it throbbed when he
let it go.  Tears of disgrace flowed now and I was helplessly stuck with
this public hardon.  The captains were all Italian who hired local crews.
They approached for an inspection and my heart almost stopped. Coming right
toward me was someone I knew -- Guillemo Torino.  He'd played on the Florence
team we'd defeated for the European Championship six years ago, my final
year of play.  I was 23 and after discovering we were the same age, we
celebrated our birthdays in a pub.  I felt like a deer trapped in the
headlight, unable to move, forced to hope against hope that he would not
recognize me like this.  Oh fuck, I had very short hair back then.

The captains walked up and down the line, feeling our muscles and Torin as
we called him kept talking to a friend the whole time until he glanced at
me.  Then he stopped and drew closer.  He rubbed the tat on my shoulder as
the final proof - a Slovenian flag with the year 2017.

"Jere?"  My heart almost jumped out my chest as I tried to ignore him,
consumed with shame.  He turned to the other captains. "Hey, I know this
guy.  He was captain of that Slovenian team that went undefeated in the
finals six years ago.  We played against each other in the championship --
see that tat on his shoulder?"  They looked and it seemed my cock pumping
furiously, untouched, as they viewed it with bemused expressions.

"Did he play with his prick standing like that?"  General laugher as Torin
scratched the back of his head, scowling.

"I have no why he's here.  He was close to the royals and must have really
fucked up bad."  He grabbed my enormous stiff cock and grinned.   "What the
fuck you do to, Jere?
I swallowed, unable to make a sound.  The guard came over.

"All we know is that just a few days ago he was some arrogant playboy and he
plotted against his king or something."   He kept an iron grip on my
erection to my consternation.  He looked back at my red face.

"If I take you on my ship you gonna be able to work with this thing?"  He
squeezed the organ and then I spoke in a quavery deep tone.  "Yes sir."   Oh
fuck, how I hated this!  He tested my arms, chest, nodding as he squeezed
the muscles.  He turned me around and chuckled.

"Whoa, someone's had their bottom blistered recently."  A burst of laughter
rang out from the men as hands touched the pink flesh, squeezing or rubbing,
all in good cheer, their tone jolly and playful.   When he turned me back
around I saw a large drop of cum resting on my tip.  He looked at it then at
me with a wide grin and my vision literally clouded, the knot of humiliation
growing and consuming me.  He motioned to the guard.

"This is one of my old pals -- I'll take him and that one next to him, the
redhead."  The guard nodded, wondering how I kept such a huge piece of meat
so stiff but Torin cut him off.  "We'll be out a few days so make sure
they're healthy."

We were bent over and someone threaded a health probe up our rectums. It
would report any problems but it could not begin to report my feelings as I
bent over on that dock, the plastic tube jutting from my rear end,
vibrating, gathering data, pricking deep inside me.  Torin waited patiently,
a hand on my shoulder.  The guard jerked it out two minutes later and gave
us a clean bill of health.  Six local Arabs boarded and the Marine forced us
into the customary squat before we waddled on board.  What must he think
about me now?

"Polus!" I turned at Torin's voice to see a young man emerging from down
below.  He looked remarkably like Torin and even walked like him.  He walked
over, shirtless, his smooth tan chest powerful with the daily work on the
sea.  His hair was curly and his big grin was devastating when he caught
sight of my erection.  Torino came over and put a hand on the back of my
neck as I squatted.

"This is the great Jere, remember when you were 12 and we played Slovenia
for the cup?  This was their captain."  He sounded downright excited that I
was joining them -- what a fucking mess this was.  "This is my brother,
Polus, working with me so he can get his own boat in a few years."  I said
nothing since I could think of nothing.

My former buddy guided us to the side of the vessel and side by side, Red
and I were forced over until our chins rested on top of the railing.  We
stared at the shore, waiting men and new arrivals, the scene so huge and so
natural to them.  I thought about the appearance I made and then I felt a
hand reach under and pull my cock back between my legs.

"Get a load of this thing, bro."  It was Torin holding my cock painfully
back for Polus to see.  I tightened my rump when I felt a finger rub the
head as a hand held my cock in place.  This was an indignity of such huge
proportion that I had to struggle not to rise in protest.

"Look, he's leaking too.  I bet he has not come in days, right?"  I gave a
mangled answer that I hoped they interpreted as "no".   He let go and it
swung up, smacking my stomach loudly.  I looked to the side and took a sharp
breath when I saw Torin take a leather strap from a hook on a beam.  Right
beside it hung cuffs and several dildos.  I'd wondered if my past would
exempt me from slave status on this voyage.  I didn't have to wait long to
find out.

"Here Polus, take this strap.  You need the practice."  I waited, bent over,
ass in perfect position. He kicked my feet far apart and I shivered and
tightened my rump.  My heart  thumped fiercely then the leather exploded
with a loud crack that could be heard above the noisy motors.  I yelped in
surprise and indignation.  Another loud smack sounded and Red winced.  The
strap whistled and the blast shot to my brain -- instant heat and sting.
After a few licks Torin's voice range out.

"Don't hold back, bro, doing a good job."  That seemed to inspire Polus who
really put his his arm behind it.   I saw my former drinking buddy talking
on his cell phone in the distance and when he caught my eye he even waved!!
We were thrashed in silence and I could think of no reason.  He alternated
bottoms with sizzling licks as we gasped and squirmed.  There was nothing to
do, no place to hide my rump so all I could do was swing my rear end from
side to side which surely entertained the crew.

His wide swipes swept upward and I hopped to my tiptoes as my tail was
spanked upwards.  Once I sprang up, howling, and instantly a hand pushed on
the back of my neck, forcing my chin firmly on the wooden railing.  Despite
the torrid whacks I couldn't help but flush at the snicker from above.   I
kept my fingers locked behind my head and shot a glance at Red whose eyes
were shut tight as he bawled.  His face was as red as his hair and he cried
out "fuck" louder and louder. I hollered with each fresh lick but realized
that even though my behind was in flames and I choked on sobs this was
nothing compared to the paddling with the board.   We were not scolded or
made an example.

The crew continued with their tasks, once even lifting my foot as a lick
landed to remove a net I had been standing on. The casualness of this action
sent a shudder thru my frame.   I noticed that the strap was smacking but
not my bottom.  Red was getting an extended thrashing and squalled as the
strap exploded over and over.  In the silence I heard the heavy breathing of
both men.  He hung the strap back on the hook then came over with Torin who
rubbed my shoulder as I jerked with tiny spasms.  My rump was on fire.

"Nothing personal, Jere.  I find a good strapping at the first usually
eliminates behavior problems for the rest of the cycle, you understand?"  He
rubbed my bottom and the sense of lowliness surged with each touch.   "We
need to get something straight right off the bat, both of you."  He got
between us and threw an arm around our necks, pulled us close.  I thought
back to the past as we posed for a camera at the bar, arms circling one
another holding a beer. This was cataclysmic, his low voice and closeness.

"My brother & I are boss and as much fun as we had in the past I won't
hesitate to punish you.  You think that was bad -- how you'd feel if one of
these lads pulled you over his knee for a good spanking?  I've seen it break
down many a tough guy. "   I literally could not imagine such a thing.  He
turned to Red.

"You listen up, pal.  You got an attitude and we got ways to deal with that,
none of them good.  Nobody gets special treatment around here and that
includes my old friend Jere."  I squirmed and took a sharp breath at the
stinging rebuke. He was not thru.   "You both work hard, obey all commands
and things will be fine."  His hand rested on my glowing backside and he
gave it a quick pinch as he stood.  "I wanna see that cock hard again -- man,
that is a monster." He told Polus to fetch a bottle of suntan lotion.

"We don't want any blistered balls around here, do we?"   A hand slapped on
the creamy solution to Red's backside and he gave a loud "Ow!" that brought
genial laughter.  He kept hissing, little intakes of breath as his white
body was coated from head to foot. My tail received a painful, deep rubbing
then we were turned around and Polus quickly rubbed my sides before even
more quickly coating my balls.  My fucking dick found a renewed vigor and
perked up to the delight of the young man who knew how utterly degrading
this was.  He kept looking at it then grinning at me like while he lightly
fingered the tip, rubbing oil slowly as my knees shook.

"Man, your face is about the color of your ass.  How you keep this thing so
stiff?"  A low keen was heard and I realized it was me. Red's front was
coated from top to bottom and this time his cock sprung to life.  He'd
confided that he had not been allowed to jerk since he arrived and was
desperate.

We chopped bait, cleaned fish, scrubbed decks and ate with the rest of the
crew. Yet our nakedness was always present and frequently our cocks hardened
for no reason -- a small breeze, a tiny rub, a thought.  The Arab guys were a
fun-loving group that got a kick out of tormenting us.  I was working on a
net when my knees were kicked wide apart and a small, stiff brush began to
stroke my tight, hanging nuts.  I tried to keep working but had to stop
occasionally, unable to continue I shuddered so badly.  The young man
wouldn't stop despite my deep groans.

Red had it even worse. One lad had taken a shine to him and sat next to him,
polishing his near-bursting cock head without ceasing, moving when he moved,
keeping the brush in contact with the dripping knob.  Once I saw him rock
back on his heels, hands locked behind his head, writhing as the bristles
stroked.  He was hot and sweating, moaning almost continuously to the
delight of the workers.  When another worker applied a stiff little brush to
his anus he threw his head back, gasping and slowly undulating as the sexual
pleasure went on and on.

Polus took a seat in front of him to watch and enjoy a beer.  Red saw the
young man in his cargo shorts and deck shoes watching with a big grin and he
broke down, bawling and pleading.   Polus searched for another little brush
and began stroking deep in his pubes. He reminded Red of an earlier warning
of swift punishment if he came.  His cock began to jump and thrust and Polus
rose and fetched the black leather strap.  He walked to where I worked.

"How much time you think he's got?"  I didn't dare answer but he looked
down
at the shuddering figure, held the strap aloft and stretched with a loud
yawn, feet wide apart, confident that he'd be swinging in a short time.  It
was evident that Red could hold out only for a few more minutes and everyone
knew it.  He breathed faster, gulping air as the bristle whirred and
stroked.  He was mumbling furiously, trying to calm himself when suddenly he
looked up with a startled yet defeated look.  His cock twitched and then
jumped and suddenly he cried out "Oh Fuck!" and exploded in a white squirt
of cum that soared six feet in the air.  A second blast was almost as huge.
He gave a third and even a fourth squirt then fell to his face, out of
breath.

Two workers dragged him to the back of the ship and I was told to get busy
and mind my own business.  In seconds I heard a loud "No, I couldn't help
it!" followed by laughter from some men and then the slap of the strap rang
out over the deck and a loud pitiful "Oh my ass" was heard.  Polus, who
wielded the strap, paid no attention, thrashing furiously and reminding him
that he had disobeyed an order.  Maybe it just seemed louder, the licks
cracking the silence of the sea in the middle of nowhere.  Polus berated him
even as he thrashed, warning him of his attitude.   I stood and ventured a
glance.
He was on his back, his feet pulled back over his head and held firmly by
two workers. They kept leaning over and grinning at him as he howled.  One
of them rubbed his rump and said, "Hot like fire."   Polus chuckled and
swung.  I was mesmerized then felt a hand touch my arm.  It was Torin.

"Jere, weren't you suppose to be working?"  I swallowed, gave a hated "yes
sir" and held my breath as he debated.  "I should tie you to the support
beam and let Polus beat that handsome rump raw to teach you a lesson."  I
stood very still, fear gripping my soul.  He smiled and I saw his look
downward.  My cock danced madly as I stood, just the two of us, and the rush
of humiliation took my breath away.  It was dark red, freshly shaved and
helplessly pulsing as I stood before this former soccer opponent.

"Position." I spread my legs and clasped my fingers behind my head.  He
paused then lifted my balls, rubbing them slowly.  "Man, these are rally
drawn up tight."  I stared ahead, tears streaming as he tugged on them one
at a time.  All the while Red was hollering although his whipping had slowed
considerably.  I heard the talking as the punishment continued and a finger
rubbed the sensitive ridge of skin that ran up the back of the knob.  He
slowly masturbated me on deck with the waves surging.

"Jere, I could make you come if I wanted."  His fingers sent chills up my
spine and I could barely stand his soft touch, rubbing each ball.  I tried
to pull back and he said "Don't".  I stood shaking uncontrollably, edging
closer until the suddenly quit.

"That was your one chance. I won't be so kind next time, Jere."   I heard a
commotion and then Red fell beside me, weeping loudly.  Polus stood, strap
in hand.

"You learned your lesson?"  Red nodded and managed to quavery answer. He
could not stop crying as he refilled the lavatory with bucket after bucket
of sea water.  His ass was the reddest I'd seen here but his attitude had
vanished.  He worked without stopping or complaining, biting his lip at the
occasional pinch by a passing worker. He was carrying another bucket of
water when the young man who'd been responsible for his orgasm stopped him
and made him turn around.  In the bright sun he examined the thrashed bottom
slowly.  Red trembled at the ignominy of it all -- standing quietly as hands
explored the cauldron of his backside.

Another worker joined and together they discussed in that foreign language
his fiery rump.  They made him set one foot on the railing, stretching him
and opening his backside wide to their exploration.  The red curls twinkled
in the sunlight.  I could not be sure but I thought one of them had thrust a
finger inside him as he stood in this position, unable to do a thing. The
two kept grinning at him, rubbing and poking and when he was finally allowed
to return his cock was once again standing firm.  This little incident
seemed to satisfy the crew and we worked unmolested the rest of the day.

That night we were scrubbed by the workers in a soapy, lively free for all
on the deck.  We had to stand facing one another in the wide-legged stance
and although I came close to coming several times, they stopped before I had
reached the point of no return. Our meal was good -- fried haddock with
potatoes.  We ate on the deck and were allowed to sit up.  Red had to stay
on his knees due to the pain of his rear end.

The whispering started as the sun went down and a radio suddenly blared.
The men grew restless and I detected a rising tension and frequent glances
in our direction.  At last, one of the Arab guys yelled for us to come to
the back.  I rose, shivering with fear and when I saw the stocks I froze.
Hands pulled me forward and I fell to my knees beside Red, our heads pushed
forward and locked in place. Our wrists were also locked tight and in the
utmost horror I could imagine, two of the young men began unbuckling their
trousers.  I had heard stories of men getting off on slaves but had never
given them serious thought.

Red began yelling and I wanted to tell him we were bound helpless in the
middle of the ocean.  Torin and Polus were down below apparently.  We stared
as the men drew straws determining their order.  The two winners spoke
excitedly in Arabic and fetched stools.  A muscular young man with a creamed
coffee pigment dropped his trousers and sat on the stool at my face.  His
legs were wide, cock half hard, pants around his ankles.  Another guys was
in front of Red.  I felt the knife on my balls and understood.

My heart raced and I was sure I would pass out but instead a guy's thick
knob advanced toward my mouth.  It was hardening rapidly, the slit opening,
a drop of liquid emerging.

"Kiss!"  I obeyed, trying to avoid the hot cum.  "Again, like girl!" I
puckered my lips, tears streaming and kissed the hot, smooth knob over and
over as it leaked.  I jerked back at the taste of the hot, sour cum.  He
moved and his cock swung, grazing my cheek and nose with slime.  I closed my
eyes to shut out the presence of the others who leaned in close, shouting
excitedly.  He made me lick his thick black curls and I did so eagerly,
hoping against hope that this would somehow satisfy his randiness.   Behind
me arms reached and pinched my nipples and I groaned.  He smelled of fresh
soap but there was a hint of mustiness.  He drew back and it touched my lips
and I began sobbing, knowing what was going to happen.  My sobs were
silenced as for the first time a cock slowly sank in my mouth.  Hell, I'd
never even touched a guy's dick. The smooth knob was enormous, filling my
mouth and rubbing the roof, leaking constantly.

I looked out of the corner of my eye and was startled at Red.  The tough,
Philly auto mechanic was eating dick, in this case a thick Arab prick.  Both
of the workers got into a rhythm, in and out, leaking continuously, a salty
solution that reflected the local menu. Workers were now counting in Arabic,
seeing how long they held out.  I gagged when it thrust deeper but there was
nothing I could do.  That's when I felt a finger in my crack, inching closer
to the prize. I tried to shut it out but the thick meat in my mouth plunged
deep and distracted me.  A finger tried to enter my rear, pushing despite my
wiggling.  I heard laughter as my cheeks were spread wide and the halo of
curls surrounding my hole were ruffled.

"NO!"  Torin had appeared and I almost wept with relief.  "His ass is off
limits."  He put a hand on my head as I kept sucking the hot prick. Polus
made a suggestion.

"We should dildo their butts to make sure.  Want me to fix em up?"   I did
not like any answer but when he told him that was a good idea the cock
inside my mouth grew more vigorous.  He pulled out till just the knob was
inside as hands parted my spread my red cheeks wide apart.  The greased
stick pierced me to the hilt, a steady, slow filling. It was tied tight and
I squealed as a wad of hot fluid filled my mouth and I began swallowing.
It pulled out and I took a few huge breaths before another dick took its
place. The whole time Torin had stood there rubbing my head.

"Having fun?"  I opened my eyes and saw Polus, red-faced and grinning as I
sucked his dick.  He was average size but to me that seemed gigantic.  He
grabbed my ears and pulled me back and forth slowly.  "Take your time, Jere.
  You're sucking every dick on this ship!"  He finally erupted and sat there
with his wilting cock in my mouth.

"We call it the slave's dessert -- you like the flavor?"  Dick after dick
thrust in eagerly, squirting, few lasting longer than a minute, all
apparently with the horniness of a guy on his first night of marriage.
Eventually it stopped but my jaw ached and I felt full of hot cum.  They
drifted away, leaving us alone in the dark, panting and blinking back tears.
We'd just sucked dick for an hour and would probably do so again.  Torin
walked over at last and wiped our faces clear of the streams of dried sperm.
  He held up a water bottle for both of us and I gulped gratefully.

I was in shock as he almost gently as freed us from the stocks.  We were
bound on our backs on top of the cabin.  I stared at the stars and again
thought how my life had turned upside-down in less than a week.  Red
grimaced as his punished rump came in contact with the roof but he was
helpless. We whispered about getting out, ignoring our stiff cocks that
seemed to throb as soon as we were bound in place.

The next few days passed almost uneventfully.  We rode out a storm during
which Red & I huddled with three workers under a small structure on the
deck.  We were so frightened that our cocks actually relaxed.  Red got very
sick and we had to hold him as he threw up over the side.  He grew so weak
he could barely walk so I tossed him over my shoulder and brought him back.
He groaned loudly along with one of the crew who was also sick. In the small
space he rolled over on me, moaning and I held him as he broke down
completely, vowing to jump overboard. He seemed unaware of our naked,
sliding bodies.  Even then a worker could not resist a slow finger fuck as
he lay squirming, holding onto me tightly.

We had only one more suck session but it was mercifully short because Torin
said we needed the rest.  In an odd turn, Polus and I grew closer, almost
like a little brother.  We played chess games and he loved to talk about
sports and cars.

The one thing that never left my mind was my nakedness and my hard prick.
Although it became a way of life I could never accept it and the amused
grins that immediately was visible when a worker spied our embarrassing
condition never failed to make me gulp with shame.  Once when I was caught
desperately pulling at my organ Torin decided to keep my hands bound out of
the way when alone.  I would have preferred a sound thrashing to this long,
slow boil.  Many a night I'd sit waiting for the meal, my cock throbbing
relentlessly, hands tied behind me.  Polus would walk past and give a low
wolf whistle -- playful but so devastating.

Red was not as fortunate.  He could not lose his "attitude" which he said
was the result of his tough upbringing in his blue collar background.   He
would talk back or yell at one of the workers and they would run to Torin or
Polus who would then take action.  The first time they hung little weights
from his nipples and ears, a constant reminder of his status and place in
this new world.  It did no good so they added a weight to each swollen
testicle that bounced around as he moved.

Again it worked for a while but then he would snarl and curse one of the
"dumbshit boys from Araby" or "accidentally" drop a bucket of fish guts in
their midst.  I tried to talk to him about it but nothing worked.  One day
Torin gave them permission to act and they dragged him away to the back of
the ship not caring if I watched their discipline.

They held him over a barrel and very slowly shaved his armpits as he cursed
and fought. They were in an excited, jolly mood and spread his bottom wide
for a lingering but very thorough shave of his hairy crack.  The little red
curls were scraped off quite easily as they denuded the man.   The leader of
the group had them bend him back over the barrel and he cried as his full,
red bush was removed.  The men took their time, taunting as they worked,
holding up the red curls to his face so that he could see his manhood in
their hands.  He was like a madman but they were adamant and when it was
over he was as smooth as a new babe.

This caused incredible humiliation for the young man.  It was bad enough
that he had to remain naked in the presence of other men but now he would
not even have the luxury of normal masculine clumps of hair.  Every single
person he met would see his denuded pits, crack and bush and contrast it
with his furry arms and legs, still covered in tight, red curls.  You'd have
thought this would have tamed his wild soul but he took a swing at the
grinning faced of a nearby crew member.

Immediately they grabbed him and the young man who appeared to be the
leader, the one who directed their actions, said something in Arabic and the
men screamed in glee. They dragged him to the deck and circled him.  He
tried to crawl away and got a solid kick in his butt from the nearest guy.
They grabbed him, wrestling him on his back as he cursed in his New England,
working-class accent.

"No, you motherfuckers, I'll fucking kill you'ns, I'll....Ohhhh shit!"
Polus
walked up with a little flat rod that he swung.  It really packed a wallop
and left a deep red stripe across his left buttock.  They exploded with
laughter and threw the poor guy on his back.  His legs were pulled over his
head and spread wide and began scolding him, pointing their finger at him as
he looked up, defenseless.  Polus stepped back and swung, spanking the
sensitive, sore walls of his crack.  His howls would have raised the dead.
Polus snarled, set his stance and swung again.  His freshly shaven crack was
soundly blistered and I knew his anus received several licks in the process.
  His threats of defiance turned to pleas, screams and choked sobs but this
did not affect his punishment that seemed to go on forever.  Afterwards, he
sobbed bitterly, choking on the words as he promised to act good.  Polus
dragged him to each man who gave him a mighty bare-handed wallop after which
he was forced to kiss their palm and thank them for their attention. They
made him squat, opening his crimson crack for light strokes or an extended
inspection. They were amazed at the heat generated from the burning, red
flesh.

He crawled back to me, sobbing, but was immediately put to work untangling
the nets. Men would pinch his rump or run a foot up his smooth crack to
emphasize the loss of hair. They kept him in a state and he was inconsolable
that night when we were bound on the cabin.  He kept whimpering and yelling
because of the pressure on his raw flesh.  At last two men climbed up,
released him, then pulled him over on me, binding out wrists and ankles so
that we slept like this, torso to torso.

When we returned to shore weeks later, I was fixed up with the belt and a
noose around the cock head.  I had not come the entire time and was
desperate for relief. Torin laughed and put a hand on my shoulder, pulled me
close.

"I'll be thinking about your gigantic hardon tonight while I visit the pussy
houses."  He reached and ran a finger up and down the shaft.  "Polus is so
excited he can't get his dick in his pants." He gave my balls a quick,
little rub and I popped up on my tiptoes, gasping at the gentle, delicious
torment.   He pushed me into the old squat and gave me a nudge in the
direction of Troy.  My cock stood firm and proud, the steely hardness
unrelenting.  The old fear was back as we drew nearer to the foreman.

He waited, legs wide, smoking and watching with piercing blue eyes.  To my
right Red cried out with a loud "Oh" as he received a final punishment.  He
wore a blindfold and behind him, Polus held a rod with a dildo forced inside
him.  He was running the poor guy in circles, prodding his ceaselessly as
Red tried frantically and uselessly to gain speed in that crouched position.
  He kept bobbing and yelping, flushed and exhausted at the effort to stay
ahead of the jabs from the young man.  Polus kept shouting for him to "Step
it up" or "Get a move on" or simply emitted a long, deep masculine yodel.
He yelled that Troy was watching the whole thing and gave a quick jab.  Red
hopped and squirmed as he approached our estate foreman. He arrived, huffing
and puffing, the dildo lodged inside him.

"You left a man and came back a boy!"   Red stood silently, crying, as Troy
rubbed the shaved areas slowly.  He said a few more things I could not hear
then turned to me. My dick was dancing eagerly, an incredible display of
desire that would not be satisfied anytime soon.

"Nice to see you too, Jere!"   Hearty laughter rose all around me as he
smiled and took hold of the tips of our cocks and bent them down slightly.
I shuffled from one foot to the next and Red moaned lowly.  We were both
unable to stop squirming and when I looked over, his mouth was wide open as
were his eyes, shocked at the immediacy of it all.  Our buzzing tips were
grasped with gloved fingers, rotating the aching organs in a circle and once
again goose bumps rose on my ball sac. I caught sight of some workers
looking at this little scene and the indignity doubled as I remained in
place, squirming pitifully.  He let go and backed up, grinning at our
blushes and shivers.

"We're going for a ride so you need to get decent!"   He tossed Torin a
little cloth and he wrapped it around my waist, pressing my cock sideways as
he tied the loin cloth in place. It did nothing to hide our hardons which
poked out, desperate to be free and stand tall.

"You know where to go, boys."  We set off on the torturous trek toward the
transport van as the trio followed, talking and laughing. I took a deep
breath and waddled, my mouth open wide.  It was interrupted by a loud crack
of the strap that exploded across my bottom.  As I gasped another smack rang
out and Red grunted.

"Welcome Home, fellows!"  His mood was downright giddy as he urged us to go
faster.   We crawled up the ramp of the transport and got on all fours.  He
sat in front of us and talked on his cell about tickets to a car race and
which restaurant to meet.  I was trading one life of subservience for
another but the effect was enormour.  I wondered if I would ever learn to
accept this new life or if each new humiliation would top the last.

We did not return to the estate but instead drove to the Zakin, a lush oasis
where farms grew food for the whole country.  The layout was beautiful -- a
border of native trees surrounded the area which was a huge circle of green
farms.  A series of barns dotted the landscape and a large building stood in
the middle.  My heart raced when I saw men working steadily in the fields as
we passed.  The sight literally took my breath -- this was no huge mansion
but an isolated piece of Arabia where we would toil -- true slavery and the
closer we got, the greater my agitation.

We rolled up to the large building in the center and Troy jumped out,
calling greetings to a scruffy Arab before they exchanged the traditional
embrace.   He told the workers to rest for thirty minutes.   The men were
stripped to the waist, shiny in the sun. They stopped, downed water bottles
and sat, watching us silently as Troy set down the ramp.

"Jere, pit stop for you -- crawl down."  A wave of fresh anxiety rose as I
obeyed.  You can't imagine the anxiety I felt as I crawled down that ramp.
The workers watched my exit with smiles and when I waited on the grass he
scolded me.

"I shouldn't have to tell you what to do.  Get presented."  My face burned
but it was not from the sun.  I rose and slowly squatted, hands locked
behind my neck, thighs screaming as I bobbed up and down. I could not
control my quick breaths and kept gulping.  My prick was buzzing stronger
than ever, barely contained in the flimsy loin cloth. I heard a voice from
nearby.

"Get a look at those balls -- looks like a damn bull."   A shudder passed
thru me and I cried out when my cock slipped free and shot upwards, lifting
the cloth.  I realized my horrible position, my utterly displayed thick
hardon that reached to the sky.  I gritted my teeth but nothing could keep
the wetness from springing to my eyes.

"Here's another, Karez.  He's brand new so he'll need personal attention."
I whirled to stare at Troy, speechless at the casual way I was being
introduced.  Karez spoke near-perfect English and nodded quickly, talking
into a transmitter.

"I understand...there's a man I use for training.   He'd be perfect."  Troy
pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Karez.   As they smoked, Troy
looked at me and pointed.

"I want to be sure he gets the needed discipline."  The man laughed and said
that was not a problem.    I held my breath when out of the corner of my eye
a tanned young man in shorts and work shoes strode forward.  Fuck!  I knew
in a glance he was another fucking American -- they were everywhere.   He had
the lean, muscular physique of common laborers.  His movements were raw and
masculine as he ran a hand briskly thru his short, dark brown hair and held
it out to Troy.   They exchanged firm handshake and the young man called him
"sir".  Troy laughed at his fine manners.

"Hey, it's Troy to you.  I'm not that old."   The young man wiped his brow
and spat, answering with another, "Yes sir".  He took a stance.

"Jacob Jones here, from Baltimore."   The Arab foreman beamed as he walked
over, squeezed his arm and slapped his back, keeping a hand on his neck.
The young man was slightly embarrassed at the obvious affection shown by the
foreman and slowly scratched his armpits as he looked me over with a slight
sneer.   My upright organ kept drawing the attention of the trio and the
young man snickered and shook his head.

"I think of this boy as a son.  I snatched him up four years ago in Maine
after that nuke took out DC.  He was in a camp and already a leader at age
17!  He's been with me ever since, best worker I ever met.  He began
training the newcomers with his English and work skills -- already in line
for management.  We've processed several slaves and they leave chastened but
productive.  He's not at all hesitant to apply discipline, are you Jonesy."
  The lad blushed at the nickname but returned a tight smile.

"Not at all, sir."  I swallowed and felt this sinking feeling in my gut.
He turned to me, scowling as I squatted in front of him, eyes blinking in
trepidation.   Sand dunes stretched as far as I could see as the young man
walked around me, sizing me up.  He stopped and squatted in front of me, not
a word, and bounced my testicles in his palm lightly. I gasped and shot a
quick glance at Troy and Karez who looked on with interest.

Oh God, it was happening again, standing mutely in public as some guy
examines me intimately.  Fingers tugged the curls on my sac, not sharply but
insistently. Shivers in the hot sun alternated with sensations that whipped
thru my body.  In silence he slowly rubbed first one, then the other swollen
testicle, tracing a finger up the ridge of skin on my sac that divided my
balls.   I whimpered as my nuts shifted and I almost cried out yet the fluid
streamed from my open slit.   He looked up at the waiting pair.

"This buck's getting my undivided attention. I can tell right now that he'll
need firm discipline and close observation. "   He stroked another ridge of
skin -- the one that ran up the back of my cock.  "I bet this thing has not
gotten a lot of relief lately, right."  My face  blanched and my eyes bulged
as he stood with a half-smile.

"What you think about all this, you and Super cock?"  He laughed and raised
me from the crouch, pulled away the ineffectual cloth and threw an arm
around my shoulder as I stared down, unable to make a sound.  I jumped when
he popped my rump hard and raised my chin with one finger until our faces
were inches away.

"When I ask you a question I want an answer."   I swallowed and managed to
eke out a shallow, "It's all right, sir."   I was shaking so badly I forgot
the other two men were still present.  He rubbed the cheek he'd just smacked
and grinned, slowly forcing me back to the wicked, difficult stance.  He
faced Troy and spoke almost gleefully.

"He's gonna do just fine.  I feel it in my bones just like he feels it in
his boner."  That got a chuckle and when I saw Troy turn toward the van I
almost cried out, begging him not to leave me alone with this stern trainer
who I now feared more than a battalion of tough Marines.   I knelt in the
silence and caught a glimpse of two guys making the universal "pumping"
motion and pointing at my cock. Jones stood beside me, arms folded and I
felt his glare.

"I hope you behave cause if I have any trouble you'll be soundly thrashed.
Let me tell you up front, I don't care if you've just been paddled by
another worker ten minutes earlier. You mess up with me and you pay the
consequences, understand?" I nodded and mumbled something as the tears
threatened.  The wind blew and rustled the thick hairs on my legs.   This
was a lonely place of discipline and toil and I this American would be a
strict taskmaster.  Troy turned around as he opened the door of the van.

"I'm leaving you in friendly hands, Jere. I want a good report in a month
when I come back to fetch you."   Those words were apt for an 8 year old --
not a former minister to a king.  He hopped in the van and they drove away.
Jones turned to me and I looked down so that he could not my misery.

"OK, Jere, let's get started.  Ever worked on a farm before?"  I shook my
head and he took hold of my arm, once again raised me and turned me around.
Suddenly I cried out as his strong hand delivred a huge wallop that stung
like hell.  I yelped and turned to him in shock, struggling to remain in
place as the utter shame of the act sunk in.  He took his job quite
seriously and was in mood for chatter.

"Slaves answer verbally and respectfully.  I don't want to have to tell you
this again."   I trembled at the admonishment and mumbled "Yes sir", my
voice quivering.   I couldn't fucking believe it -- my cock was dark red, the
veins prominent as it literally jumped up and down, powerless to shoot
without further stimulation. The young mad stood watching, arms folded, the
hint of a smile on his face. He repeated the question and I said, "No sir",
burning with an overwhelming mortification.

"I should ask if you've ever worked outside at all?"   I gave another "No
sir" as my cock continued its little show.  He walked behind me, feeling my
back and shoulders, sizing me up.  Small jolts of electricity coursed with
each touch.   Workers sat under a tree, watching my reaction, leaning over
and chuckling with a buddy.

"I've seen your type before, rich guy, private gym.  Bet with all this hair
were a hit with the gals, right?"  I answered a low yes-sir as he chuckled
and idly scratched my hairy abs before giving my pubes a little tug.  He
told me to stand tall beside him and when I did he grinned.  It was
difficult to stand there and when he gave my rump a firm squeeze, my skin
actually crawled in sheer sensation.  That little action was so demoralzing.

"How old are you Jere?"  It was all I could to get out "29".  I could not
help but writhe and wiggle, badly shaken by the turn of events, by this
place and this new guy in charge.  Every question increased my lowliness and
my cock was pumping like there was no tomorrow.   He grabbed my hardon in
his fist and I clenched my buttocks.

"How long since this thing got relief?"   I opened my mouth, tried to speak,
swallowed several times then gasped, "Almost three weeks, sir."  He gave it
a firm squeeze and the thick liquid burped out. "You act good and I'll let
you come in a few days."  So this was a rewards-based training and then I
reeled at the thought -- this serious young man was not here to think up
punishments or torment me for no reason.  He had a job to do and that's
exactly what he was going to do. The treatment I received was nothing
special. I felt a bond with every naked man who had stood in this position.
He again fingered my hairy nuts, tugging on them and the sensations made me
rise on tiptoes.

"These need support -- dangling like this is not a good thing."   His tone
was casual, almost conversational.  He pulled a leather cord from his pocket
and bent over, quickly wrapping it around the base of my nuts and prick.  My
balls were lifted on either side of my cock.  I moaned at the touches as he
pulled my erection out of the way, held my hairy sac and tied the cord
tightly.  He rubbed my right nut swiftly then stood back, admiring his
handiwork.

"There you go, that should help."  I cried silently, standing there almost
proudly with my hairy muscular frame shaking and sweating.  I hated losing
control.   I could have withstood cruel torture easier than this.  The men
had gone back to work and although I could hear voices all around me my
world had shrunk to this small piece of ground and this trainer.  The Arab
foreman was talking to someone on his phone and I waited for the next move.

"In time your feet will develop calluses but for now you need some work
shoes."  He guided me to a small shed and asked my size.  They only had one
size 12 so I was lucky.  I knelt and pulled on the white socks and clunky,
large shoes that made me even more away of my nakedness.  I stood and gulped
again, my arms swinging freely and he shook his head slowly.

"No, Jere, your hands are to be locked behind your head at all times unless
otherwise ordered."    My face burned and the flush spread to my chest as I
obeyed while he got a metal and leather collar that locked with a loud
click.  It had cuffs that held my wrists and once again I stood defenseless.
  He tugged on a few tufts of my pubes that were short but quite thick.

"You've had a recent trim, I see."  Before I could catch my breath he
continued. "You are probably wondering how you'll work like this.  It's easy
-- you won't need your hands. You're carting these veggies in a basket which
will be bound to those strong shoulders."  He slapped my back in a
congratulatory manner and pointed to a post where several baskets hung.  We
walked over and he selected one, turned me around so that I faced the dunes
again.  The straps fit over my shoulders and around my waist.  A small thick
plug, cold and metallic, sunk in my anus as he pulled the bindings up
between my legs and buckled them to the belt.

"That keeps the straps in place."  He pressed the plug as he spoke.   He
worked briskly, taking a hint from the Georgia boys and fixing a loop under
the swollen bulb so I stayed upright. He actually grinned and took another
devilish device.

"Open wide!"   The round ball stretched my mouth but I could breathe easily
as he tied it in place.  Several little straps with clamps hung from the
ball gag.  They dangled and rubbed the hair of my chest, making my nipples
point stiffly.  Two clamps were fastened to the hair in my armpits, forcing
me to stare straight ahead.   Two other straps wrapped round my back to my
chest and clamped to my nips.  The final two straps attached to my ear
lobes.  The rush of sensation was overwhelming as I tried not to move.

"Man, that has to be the stiffest prick that size I've ever seen.  Fuck,
it's a monster.  Hate to be any of your bitches."  He had a hand on my
shoulder, pressing lightly as if we were exchanging stories at the gym.

"Let's go meet the workers."  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  The sudden
consternation made all other times seem downright forgettable.  He pointed
to the fields and when I took a step it ignited a fury of sensations as the
various pinches and tugs exploded.  My anus itched as the metal plug wiggled
inside me.  He slowed, letting me get accustomed to the little toys.  The
men looked up as I approached and he marched me to the group that couldn`t
hide its glee or stifle its chortles.  He introduced me to the other workers
who were duly impressed by both my athletic body and huge prick.  I stood
mutely, hard as a rock, as Jones filled them in.

He walked away and I thought it was over but he returned, mumbling he almost
forgot, and from his pocket withdrew a small comb.  I was puzzled since my
"crew cut" was still quite short.  He had a lop-sided smile as he began
running it slowly thru my short, dense pubes.  I squealed behind the gag as
these rowdy workers who made howling sounds and little dog yelps, a local
custom of male celebration. Jones whistled "Yankee Doodle" as he steadily
combed.  I quivered and shut my eyes, feeling the comb run thru the hair on
my legs.  His hand rubbed my rough, dark stubble and his thumb wiped away a
hot tear.

The workers pulled me with them, laughing and genuinely happy to have a
Basket Man, as I was called.  Onions, beans and squash were tossed in. I had
to run from one spot to another, turn or kneel, keeping my back straight, as
the workers jabbered and threw the produce into the bag.  Men everywhere
used any excuse to turn work into play and with a Basket Man, these young
men could actually have contests.  They took long shots, awarded points for
difficulty, cheered when a particularly difficult goal was completed.

I had to stand still in the right spot despite the tiny explosions from the
clamps that racked my body without ceasing. They thought nothing of pulling
me in place by my dick.  The first time someone grabbed it and marched me to
a new spot I screamed behind the gag to well-received laugher.  They always
commented on my size and hardness in that good-natured way men do when
someone is being hazed.  It was as if I had no feelings at all and my sole
purpose was providing a means of amusement.

Every step brought a new round of sensations that made it difficult to think
straight. I could not find a position in which some part of me was not
tormented. I moaned as the straps jerked this way and that, tugging on my
armpits, earlobe, nipples, cock head.  My feet felt like they weighed a ton
with the heavy shoes, my anus throbbed and my cock pumped relentlessly.
When the basket was full (and heavy) I heard a shout from Jones who waved me
over to a produce truck.  I had to climb a little ladder, bend over and pour
the contents into the bin.

This was repeated several times and I found myself almost getting used to
the flood of sensations.  He blew the whistle and the men stopped.   My
basket was full and I headed to the truck but Jones called me over.  I was
hot, drenched in sweat, tired and even my cock had relaxed a bit. He had
wrapped a cloth band around my forehead to absorb the sweat yet stinging
sweat still stung my eyes. I heard a low but growing chorus.

"Vote, Vote, Vote."    He held up his hand and turned me so that he could
see the basket.  He was all business, telling me it was a "good load".  He
then pointed to a spot on the concrete displaying the outline of bare feet.
I placed my feet in them and got a bad feeling about this.  I was bent over
until my chest rested on a smooth beam and I stared at the men who were
wiping the sweat away and drinking bottles of water.  A cool bottle was held
to my mouth and I gratefully took a long sip. Now that I was motionless I
felt the wicked pull of the straps even worse.

The men lined up in front of a pole where a long leather strap hung. Above
it was a tablet divided into two sides.  I recognized the Arabic for "yes"
and "no".    In an instant I recognized that they were deciding if I was to
be thrashed.  I thought surely with our interaction and the genial
friendliness I had nothing to worry about but one glace at the tally brought
an astonishing realization -- the vote was overwhelmingly "yes".

Without a word, Jones nodded and removed the strap. The men ran to get in
line behind me and I heard an accented "I'm first!"  Jones came back around
and stood in front of me, staring at my face without emotion.  I screamed
thru my gag, furious at him but mainly the workers who so eagerly voted to
thrash me themselves -- and for no reason!

He nodded and the lash exploded across my rump with a smack and I tensed
with a sharp intake of breath.  The lick hung in the air and then my ass
jumped up high as the worker landed a resounding crack on the lower part of
my bottom, then a third on my upper legs before handing the strap to the
next guy.  The man who'd just whipped me walked by and rubbed my scalp
affectionately as the next guy went into action.  It was not the  savage
beating of the wooden paddle but it was a very sound thrashing from ankle to
waist. The back of my knees were targets and I yelped when they were
smacked.  They  concentrated on my bottom, though, and like all men
attempted to outdo each other in loudness and force.

I soon was bucking and hollering and several hands had to hold me in place.
One of the men remained beside me, rubbing my back soothingly as the leather
landed over and over, one sizzling smack after another.  The last man seemed
to swing harder than any of the others and I hollered behind the gag,
screeched and wagged my hips wildly. Then it stopped and someone hung the
strap on the hook.  Jones lifted me off the beam and I swayed, bawling,
racked with small spasms.   He waited a minute for me to calm.

"Jere, you got your butt blistered cause the men voted that way.  Don't get
upset -- I've never seen a new slave whose bottom was not kept red for a week
or so.  It was not because of any mistake on your part.  It's a reminder of
what can happen when you don't try your best."  I lowered my head, wet with
sweat and detecting my own rank odor.  My behind was broiling and my cock
had now sprung hard again from the excitement. I was  grateful when he led
me to the bin and waited while I climbed to unload that last basket.

"Lots of red here."  His hand rubbed my furry legs while I was on the ladder
and I slowly descended and stood.  He began unstrapping the awful devices
and although each release of a clamp was a new, shocking rush of pain I was
grateful.   When he finished I was brazenly naked, not a stitch of clothes.
I kept my hands dutifully behind my head as he led me toward the large
central building.    My shame at accompanying this fully-dressed trainer
knew no bounds.  He commented that  Idid a "great job" and was well-liked.

We stepped inside and down a hallway.  I heard sounds of water then voices
engaged in loud, good-natured horse play in the showers, men laughing and
having a good time.   We walked past them to another room with some large
tubs.  A bored worker, a local man, walked over slowly and took my arm.   He
pointed to one of the sudsy tubs.

I stepped in and the water came to my knees.  I bit my lip, watching him
select a brush with long bristles from a table.  He dipped it in the water
and began scrubbing briskly, neck, chest, armpits, legs, crotch.   He
ordered me to turn around and started at the top and worked down.

He bent me over and scrubbed my crack, the long bristles rubbing deep and
tormenting my anus. I cried out when the red flesh was touched but he was
rather gentle on the blistered areas.  He pushed me down so that I sat on
the edge, my red, quivering bottom over the rim.   I was bent forward and my
scalp lathered and my face scrubbed with a rough cloth.

"Up!"  The only word he spoke the entire time.  He dragged me by my cock to
a wall, had me lean and lift my arms, spread my legs.  He filled a tube
topped by a squeezable bulb with soapy water and rammed it inside me,
pumping it deep up my rectum. This was done three times as I moaned and
shivered at the utterly open manner in which this was done. I was made to
squat over a hole and when finished, stepped under a powerful spray for a
full minute.  The man, who was probably my own age, quickly dried my body
and led me upstairs.  A minute later I was on all fours gobbling down dinner
between two other freshly, scrubbed slaves. Jones came back and knelt beside
me.

"I got a call from Troy asking how you did." I waited. "I said you had a
good first day that ended with a sound spanking from the crew.  He was
pleased as punch!" He rubbed my still-wet scalp and walked off, whistling,
as the night guard came on duty.  A few minutes later I felt a cool palm on
my upturned rump and heard a low snigger from the guard.  I was trapped.

(Final chapter on the way)