Date: Sun, 15 Apr 2007 03:54:51 +0000 From: Drin Whethers <cobradelight@hotmail.com> Subject: ROYAL NIGHTMARE 7 (The REAL Final) ROYAL NIGHTMARE -- (The REAL Final) By Cobradelight NOTE**** LOTS of readers wrote complaining about the "ending". It wasn't fair, you stopped the story, was poor Jere gonna survive, what about the next 8 months, blah blah. As the writer I get to say what happened to Jere -- would he stay in the desert forever or return to Slovenia and be a good guy? Why did he have to serve a year and his royal victims only a few months, would he learn his lesson and be humbled by the experience or return to his wild ways? Here's the answer and the absolute, final, complete ending. Previously...Jere's nightmare continued as some of the royals he'd sent to the Georgia island paid him a visit at the oasis. The night was brutal yet the next day Nikos promised a transfer out of the barbaric conditions. Jere got his transfer and discovered in the back of a military transport vehicle he was assigned to an army base. Unfortunately the six randy soldiers had just returned from a two month boot camp and eager for some fun. Now...the rest of the story. My ride back to the army base would have been terrifying if I'd had time to think about it but I was so busy it passed in a blur. The Arab recruits had been in training for months and during this time had little time for enjoyment or sexual release. It was a raucous time in the back of that transport. When they were at last satisfied I had no relief since two new recruits took their place, laughing and congratulating one another. I gagged and protested and for all my efforts they would lean close and ask how I liked my dick breakfast. "Open that mouth, slave!" They sat in a circle and I knelt on hands and knees in the middle. It was a wild scene with grunts, cries, shouts and my own loud slurping. My head was held tight, raised up and down on eager cocks as pals yelled instructions. Each man had only 2 minutes to come before I moved on to the next guy, opening and taking in the thick, hairy rod. They sat on their rumps and their cocks pumped impatiently. Their fatigues and shorts bunched around their heavy military shoes planted firmly on the floor and they spread their feet as wide as possible. My ears scraped hairy muscular thighs as each eventually shot his load with long sighs or deep guttural cries. "Clean my ass you fucking slave!" My face was pressed deep into sweaty dark curls as he leaned back, assisted by his pals. I lapped vigorously when hands circled my vulnerable nuts. The officer in charge had forbidden cocks up my hole but that did not prevent them from finger fucking me silly. They slapped my belly repeatedly and tugged on the curls down there. My flaming rump was given hearty smacks as the guys vied to get the hardest lick. My nipples were tweaked and my cock pumped, the dripping knob teased unmercifully. These randy soldiers loved seeing me pant and groan and swallow. There was not a moment when hands were not doing things to me. Most of them had never had a chance to torment a guy to their hearts content and they were taking full advantage of it. Every single guy wanted his pubes cleaned thoroughly and as I tongued the curly patches I realized in horror that the hoots and cheers were over the fresh erections. My mouth against plunged onto eager cocks and I sucked. I was never given a break but kept in heat -- had I been given the hardon drug or was this simply the result of weeks of sexual teasing that could not be satisfied with one spurt? When they were sated I was forgotten and rolled over on my stomach. We settled in for a long ride and my body was used as pillows. The back of my knees held two men, one of whom kept rubbing the fur on my legs. Someone rested on my lower back and another on my upper back. I stiffened when a finger slid inside my hole but the offender drifted off to sleep leaving me leaking and unsatisfied, surrounded by the snores of happy men. I had feared that this suggested my life would be an endless round of endless sexual escapades for the soldiers' gratification. It was worse. The van broke down and we had to stop for a day. I was the only Westerner here and when they told us we would have a day of rest until the part arrived, the soldiers smiled in their good-nature way, their red, sweaty faces suddenly relaxing. When I was eyed, streaks of despair and fear shot thru me. I was taken to the group officer, trying nervously to cover my private parts as I was pulled toward him. He took one look, chuckled and ordered them to hand me my old clothes so they wouldn't have to view my boner. The suit and tie made me feel whole again. I was convinced this was my final few hours especially when a black limousine rolled into camp the next day. I'd finished breakfast and the men were cleaning their weapons. A man rushed to open the door for a sheik. He was in his 30's and did not wear the traditional robes but preferred casual Western attire. The commander walked over and exchanged a ceremonial greeting. They spoke and looked at me and I felt a knot in my stomach when they approached. "Sheik Mamoud Khalil, this is the one." I gulped, unsure what that meant or what I was supposed to do. I thrust out my hand but a hand grabbed the back of my neck and bent me over until I stared at my shoes. When the hand moved I tried to rise but it shoved me back again. I stayed humbly bowed as they talked, switching to the intimate Arabic. At last I was raised and the commander chortled. "Sorry you can't stay and enjoy the military hospitality, slave." I looked into twinkling, mischievous eyes. The sheik stepped up, looked me over and adjusted my tie, rubbing my stubble. I was very still, a deep flush spreading over my face at this inspection. Then two of the sheik's guards took my arms and led me to the waiting car that seemed to stretch forever. I almost tripped over the burning sands but the guards never released their steely grip. I was forced into the back seat between the two muscular brutes. . These were not guys who enjoyed polite dinner conversation. If he has said wrench off my right arm they would have obeyed without blinking an eye. When the sheik got in he motioned to the driver and turned around to me. His cold smile was chilling and my position, squeezed between these toughs, only added to my terror. Where was I going? I tried not to think of the possibilities. I was glad I wore my coat because the temperature was almost frigid. A crude blindfold covered my eyes and a strong hand grabbed my tie and jerked, pulling me over so that my head rested between my knees. A plastic bottle with a long nozzle sat on the floor and the tube entered my mouth. I shook my head but a voice told me it was nothing but plain water. I drunk greedily, fear fueling my thirst. This was true terror -- the unknown and the silence. Soon came the familiar rush to my loins. My cock swelled, throbbed and thrust but was unable to fully expand, trapped by my position and my trousers. The water was surely doped. The pressure never ceased but became a low ache. After some time I was raised and a hand flicked my crotch, laughter. I froze then squirmed as my zipper was lowered. My cock popped out and stood straight up as the two men chuckled. It felt enormous, a thick, nine inch slab of pulsing muscle with bulging veins. I stared straight ahead into the darkness. Fingers squeezed the tip and I tried to wiggle out of the way but another hand gripped my shaft in his fist so that I did not move. Fingers traced the line in the back of the head and I moaned before I was again bent over, sucking the water furiously. I drifted to sleep and when I woke I had to piss like a racehorse. I tried to rise but a hand kept my face down low. I yelled my discomfort and then grew angry but nothing changed. At last, with no other choice, I literally pissed my pants. I felt the sting of tears at my lowliness having to perform such an utterly despicable act. The car now smelled and the men yelled at me for not being able to control myself. In a few minutes we slowed down and then stopped. The front door opened and then the back. I was jerked upright and my blindfold yanked off. The sheik leaned close to me. "Welcome to your new home, Handsome. You'll be able to show off that magnificent body all you want." He turned to the nearest guard. "Get him started as soon as possible. I want to take a ride in an hour." My heart thudded faster as I took in the sounds and smells of the place, the lush palms, fountains and fruit trees. The door shut and the driver rounded the large, Moorish estate. The limousine traveled slowly over a long unpaved road to a low, solitary structure of wood. Several camels made odd noises in the distance as the car slowed and stopped. Busy workers separated bags of fruit while others brushed large Arabian stallions. Men walked in the orchards and the land was dotted with houses. This was a lush place but the desert could be seen in the distance. I was dragged from the car, petrified of what I faced. My cock throbbed in the breeze and I wondered if it was from the water I drank, my desperate need, the excitement or all three. Why had I been brought here - was my new task taking care of the sheik's camels? We waited in front of the barn while one of the guards called someone on his cell. "I got a new one and the sheik wants him up and running in 55 minutes." A voice said something and he turned and leered. "Yeah, he's primed and ready to go." The guard reached out and pulled down my cock and let it fly upwards. Both men grinned when it popped the smelly, wet cloth of my shirt. The splat it made sounded frighteningly loud in this open place. I was pulled into the building out of the blazing sun. They lit cigarettes as I looked around fearfully and then I heard someone whistling, approaching from inside the building. The door swung open as my anxiety level hit its peak. "Abed, Jamal, let's see what you brought me this time." I cringed at the young man -- another fucking American! They had cornered the market -- a few years here at a salary defying belief and they could return and live their dreams. He had short red hair, green eyes and a big smile with white, straight teeth. His loose workout shirt could not hide his fit and lean torso, powerful arms and wide shoulders. He was ruggedly handsome with the fashionable dark stubble and what caught my eye were the freckles. Women went crazy over this lad -- I knew it. His voice was a mellow baritone, friendly. I prayed that my cock would relax. "How's it going, guys?" He strode over to the pair, brimming with vigor and confidence. He shook hands with the men and they hit his shoulder affectionately. They chatted for a few minutes, ignoring me completely as I waited, helpless and hard. I heard sounds of activity in the background - the spray of a hose, the loud click of a metal lock, orders to spread the straw evenly. Someone ran past followed by a guard yelling that he had 2 minutes to get clean. Finally the trio turned to me and walked over. The tension was palpable, as if I were being facing an execution. The young man's hand shot out and squeezed my standing prick. "Nice to meet you too!" He turned to the chuckling guards with a big innocent grin and my face burned. "Bud, we ain't going to church out here." He brushed my coat and then sniffed, drew closer and bent over, frowning. I stood still as he rose, his nose wrinkled. "You pissed yourself, slave. Can't you use the can like normal guys?" The roar of a machine being turned on in the distance startled me and yet it seemed to insulate this room. "The sheik wants him in action by 1:30, 45 minutes from now. Where we take him?" The young man said "15". They grabbed my arms and hauled me down the hay-strewn hall past numbered stalls. I marched quickly, stumbling, barely noticing the straps and tools that hung in the hallway or the objects dangling overhead. I saw the "15" on a small plaque nailed to a door. The young man came behind us, still whistling, and kicked the swinging door wide open. He plopped a large tub in the middle of the stall and left, returning with more equipment, dumping it on the floor in front of me. This was a true stall -- one for animals, not humans. He returned with a fellow American. "Hey, meet my best bud from home. Eric, this is Abed and Jamal, guards for the sheik." The young man with the blond buzz walked over in three large steps and gave the guards a manly handshake as the redhead continued. "He just got here two days ago, finally left the university and the farm. I told him it's not just the money - I love this job!" The male banter went on until Eric looked over. "Who's the model with the boner?" I flinched at their sudden attention as they seemed to have remembered my presence. Faces lit up with immediate grins and I felt that knot of anxiety begin to swell inside my chest as a guard unbound my hands. Sweat rolled down my face and it seemed as if the air was closing in around me. I desperately wanted to cover my erection but knew better. "It's a new camel and the sheik did good. Look at him -- his body's probably as hard as his cock. He's going straight to the habilya -- no training necessary. Eric, you need experience on fixing up a camel. Stay around and help me with him then we'll grab a bite." I shook violently at those words and thought of the dog races on the island. The videos were the top seller and never failed to evoke a side-splitting reaction -- men fixed up like dogs running back and forth on all fours with only the winner escaping punishment. The roar of the crowds and the excitement of the guys who waited for them were captivating. I saw no crowds and no track around here. "I'm Wes -- but you call me "Sir". He didn't bother to look at me when he spoke. He set down a final load of supplies and they watched, arms folded. I slowly assumed the position, spreading my legs and locking my hands. "No, we're shucking those nice clothes and getting rid of that pissy smell." I hesitated, blushing but he was again on the move, telling Eric to hook up the hose and fill the tub with soap and water as I stripped. He looked at me and grinned. "Besides, it's downright obscene for you to keep walking around in that fancy suit with that prick pointing up." That drew a round of fresh chuckles. "You look about as out of place as a tit on a cactus. Hand the guard your coat, step on it." I shrugged off the nice jacket and the guard stuffed it in a bag and looked at me. "Come on, shirt and tie." I swallowed and exhaled sharply when I looked down, half hard. My lips trembled when I tried to unbuckle my belt. "That big dick getting in the way?" I looked up and then back down quickly, breathing faster and louder. Next came my shoes and socks and then my silk trousers. I was naked before these men. The guards left with my clothes as Wes pulled the hose out of the tub. I heard a sound behind me. "Position!" I shuddered as I hurriedly jumped to slave stance. The friends squeezed and tested the muscles in my shoulder and arms and back, chatting amiably about my fine body. They knelt and a hand rubbed the hairy spot right between my legs, pressing on my thighs that they agreed were powerful. My legs inched even wider apart. The blood rushed to my loins and when they rose and faced me, sure enough, my cock raged, bobbing up and down uncontrollably. Their upbeat attitude and manly chuckles were as devastating as their fingers. Wes patted my stomach lightly, flicking the tip accidentally. "He's leaking!" I shut my eyes as he touched my back. "Nice posture -- a proud camel is a happy camel." He rubbed my spine and I realized he was quite serious. A few of the workers stopped at the door to watch. I followed his every move as he pulled on a thick glove with a rough bristle-like covering and tossed one to his pal. "The camel's name is Jere but I'm calling him Rocky on account of that wowzer." He took my arm and led me to the tub and when I stopped he pulled down my rigid thick organ and let it go, yelling "Pow" when it smacked my stomach. The laughter was like a slithering virus, attacking my defense system. The men enjoyed my mortification in a good-natured way, as if it were a team initiation. "Step in." I tried to control my shaking at the thought of a bath from these farmers. I stood in the warm, soapy water and Wes knelt, dipped the sponge and began vigorously soaping my legs, making me turn and rubbing the between them. "See, it's like cleaning your dog except this one understands what you say. Squat, slave." I obeyed, biting my lip, and felt the roughness between my legs, my open crack and anus. He dipped the glove and attacked my chest. The bristles stung slightly and my nipples throbbed. His friend was as voluble as he was. "Look at the chest hair on this guy. I bet you're a real stud with that piece of wood." Eric smacked my cock, knelt and bent it slowly down, testing its stiffness. He wore a gleeful sneer and his square jaw jutted forward with hard eyes. "Now don't get any ideas, pal. I'm not into dick." My loins thrust uncontrollably when he scrubbed my crotch. "You better not spurt on me or it won't be pretty." The pair egged each other on. Wes kept a hand flat on my chest and they took turns in my crack, giggling and rubbing deep, making me bounce and yelp. The horse play was friendly but I could think of nothing but the sensations and rough fingers against my anus and the way my cock strained for release. Adding to my torment were the watchful eyes of those workers. "Get his armpits." Eric raised my arms and scrubbed while the redhead gave my cock a few strokes making me moan loudly to their delight. I groaned louder when each of them took a testicle and cleaned it thoroughly, the bristles creating an avalanche of sensations on my slick, hairy scrotum. I bounced up and down on my toes until they finally tired of the fun and made me dip my head in the water. My hair and face were scrubbed as I stood. Mutely I watched as Wes dipped a rubber bag in the soapy water, filled it and calmly hung it from a rafter above. A long tube hung down from it, dripping steadily. Eric could barely contain his pleasure "God damn, I don't believe it!" He needed no instructions on what to do and pulled my arm. I stood still, hearing the crowd of workers behind me, praying they would leave or that I would wake up from this nightmare. I had heard of such a thing but never in a million years thought I would experience it, much less in front of two all-American farm boys and a crowd of rowdy workers. He pulled harder on my arm and I shakily stepped. "Come on, Rocky, it's just an old-fashioned enema." He was almost cackling and his mad grin sent shivers down my spine. I flinched, unbelievably mortified, when I was told to grab my ankles and move under the dripping tube. I stared at the walls thinking of the men behind me who had a perfect view and then the rubber hose was forced inside me and the water flowed. I could not help but squirm and bristle at the laughter. My eyes opened wide, staring at the worn, wooden wall as the little band hooted and cackled. Someone yelled to turn me around and Wes did so. I raised my head to them, panting like a runner as they cheered and waved. I lowered my head, unable to meet their glance and suddenly a strong hand popped my wet bottom with a loud, startling smack. "Keep that head high -- camels look at what's right in front of them." Instant hot tears sprang to my eyes at the indignity and the wicked grins. I was slowly filled in front of these strangers and I was mute, panting and groaning and writhing. Wes drew close, rubbed the area he'd smacked and told me I only had a little more to go. At last I was directed to a bucket. My mouth flew wide open and I whimpered a pitiful, "Please", barely able to contain my shock as the water churned inside me, the pressure unrelenting. He centered me over the bucket, reminding me to hold it all in. I sat as the snickers and catcalls from the group pelted me. They yelled to keep my bright red face turned to them the whole time. He squeezed my shoulder and leaned close. "Now, Rocky." In the silence I exploded with awful sounds. This brought its own explosion -- cheers mixed with laughter from the crowd of men. When Wes called one of them to carry out the bucket the guy shot me a look of spite like it was my fault. "Spread eagle and turn slowly!" Eric sprayed me down with a high pressure hose, rinsing me thoroughly with cold water, concentrating on my crack, making me grab my ankles. I smelled better but tensed when the two faced me with towels. They quickly dried me and we were still for a moment -- these two young men in work clothes and then there was me. My cock was again on the rise. Did they realize I had not come in days? "The sheik loves his camels -- two and four-legged." He picked up a leather contraption of straps and adjustable buckles. "Eric, you gotta admit he's got a performance build. It's a camel's physique - strong legs, wide, powerful shoulders and proud stance. Look at that posture -- he even keeps that cock straight!" I flushed further if that was possible and as they worked the shame seeped to the marrow. They laughed easily and made comments that I could scarcely hear due to the beating in my chest. He showed Eric the straps and explained the camel's "hump" that fit on my back. It was a soft half globe covered in rough hair. The leather assemblage looked complicated, smelled of male sweat and was all one piece. "Start with the broad belt -- it buckles in the back." The thick strap wrapped around my waist and even as it was being buckled a thick, leather collar circled my neck, forcing my head high in the air. Tears spilled as it suddenly became so very real. A strap hanging from the back of the collar was pulled taut until I was ramrod straight, chest thrust out, and then it was buckled to the wide belt with a loud click. My insides were doing flip flops at the roving hands. "You're standing proud, Rocky." The nickname sent a sudden flush of heat to my cheeks. "See that other thick strap, Eric? It fits right under his pecs, lifts that chest like those nipples are tits. Yeah now work it through that hump in the back and buckle it in. That hump measures the strength of his thrashing." Did I hear him correctly? But I had no time to ponder the thought because Eric pulled the loops tight, worked diligently, nodding in agreement as Wes continued his explanation in a calm voice. "See that short strap hanging from the front of the collar? Snap it to the chest belt. Yeah, it holds that strap high, lifting and bisecting those powerful pecs. You got it!" Eric stood back as Wes watched closely. "He should be secure now. Pull those straps -- see how cool it is, fits like a puzzle?" I was a sniffling, quivering thing encased in black, powerful leather straps. A slight breeze caressed my body. Wes noticed my tears and gripped my shoulder firmly. "I didn't expect the crying quite so soon." I felt squeezed, my nakedness on full display and accentuated, my cock dancing, relentlessly and I could not stop hiccupping and gasping in fevered dread. He gave my red face a few light friendly smacks and pulled my wrist behind me. Eric took my other wrist and both were buckled to the hump. I was utterly helpless, barely aware that I was mumbling "No" over and over. Eric got into the spirit of the event and lifted my chin even higher. "Oh yes, you may hate it now but I bet you become a real star for the sheik, right bud?" He gave my rump a little pinch and a surge of shame exploded like a volcano. It was such a tiny action but it sent me reeling. Wes laughed and agreed with him that I had huge potential. "Stand up straight!" He had Eric hold my weeping cock back so he could slowly fit a black, studded band under my scrotum then snap it over the base of my dick. It also separated my testicles and pulled them upwards on full display in all their rampant neediness and hairiness. Eric looked over to his pal. "What a fucking dick -- can you imagine the gals having to take that thing?" He gave the weeping knob a tweak and chuckled as I shuddered and gasped. He tugged lightly on the curls that sprang from my swollen sac, still grinning. Wes spoke so fucking casually. "That cock ring is almost a perfect fit despite the huge size. We have to ensure his cock will stand tall but that won't be a problem I don't think." He pulled out a tiny Velcro loop that fit just under the bulging, purplish, moist cock head and was bound to the chest strap. I kept shivering at every touch and then realized that this was all perfunctory, simply part of his duties and he had probably done this a hundred times. I was alone with these two pals, easy-going, whistling American guys who should have been back on the farm milking cows. They smiled when I rose on my tiptoes as Wes showed Eric how to adjust the cock ring for a closer fit and reminded him to make sure the testicles were evenly divided. All the time he was touching and pulling my private parts, asking if it was comfortable. I was too stunned for words, unable to stop the tears even though I managed to weep silently, pressing my lips as best I could. He stood and looked me up and down then put an arm around my shoulders. "We're almost finished, Rocky. First time is the hardest." I nodded almost pathetically, agreeing with him since it was impossible to be worse. My cock throbbed so violently I feared spurting in this stall. They knelt and laced on the heavy, long, leather boots and he read my mind. "This is not over after a single race or a single day. This is your life from now until you are freed." He accidentally rubbed the black curls on my thighs and I quivered at the touch, unable to process the words. He playfully ran his hands up and down my legs and then Eric joined him. I could hear them talking so matter of factly. "These little curls are springy, almost like fur." They continued to rub them as if they were experimenting. I shuddered at the touch as they rose. Wes wiped my face, beaming with purpose, not a motion wasted as he worked. "Eric, except for special cases, start off with the small tail. The end won't be so big and he'll grow into it." I was confused until he pointed to a bushy tail marked "S". Eric whooped and took down the long, brown camel's tail from the wall. He held it high in the air and I was breathless, caught in its glare. When he gave me a shit-eating grin and dangled it in front of my startled face, I almost fainted as it all fell into place. I began to plead but Wes drew close until our faces were inches apart, shaking his head slowly, eyes piercing and mouth tightly set. I quieted and he nodded, grinned and quickly fondled my constricted ball sac for a few seconds before turning me around. Eric moved in front of me, hands on hips. "Spread those legs." I gulped and Eric stepped up, reached around me and pulled my cheeks wide apart. The entrance was breached and the tail eased inside almost languidly, filling my rectum deeper and wider until I grunted. This was small? The tiny cross bar stopped its progress and I shook with nonstop tremors as the thing seemed to move inside me. I rested my head on Eric's shoulder and he snickered in my ear. I felt the tail jerked and fastened to the belt around my waist, the thick connecting cord sinking deep in my crack. When they stood back, the thing bounced and the sudden vibration startled me. The heaviness of the tail made it constantly probe and jab. "Almost there, Rocky." He squeezed my shoulder, rubbing for a few seconds, and it only grew worse. I knew at some point I had to accept it but not now. I was choking with sobs, trying to hold back desperately in front of them. Each new act seared my soul, like when he calmly attached small nipple clamps and smiled gently, the throbbing echoing in my loins. I shook my head but the thick, wet leather bit was forced in my mouth and the straps fixed around my head. I gasped, mouth held open, strange horrible sounds coming forth. He looked at his watch and said they only had 10 minutes. My anus itched horribly and when I wiggled my rump they nodded at each other, grinning. "Don't worry, you'll get used to this tail after a while." Wes took hold of it and the thing moved inside me, shoving and prodding, making me yelp. He gave me a push and I pranced to the door. The little bounce from my steps made the dildo rock back and forth and I moaned pitifully between rapid, loud pants. Eric pulled me close, his voice gleeful. "Think how you'll feel once you start a nice trot! That tail will fuck you from here to China!" I almost broke down, shaking violently, bowing my head and shutting my eyes. Wes threw an arm around my shoulders again. "Eric, don't scare him. What if you were in this position?" His voice was friendly yet quite serious. I broke a rule and looked at him and he shook his finger back and forth. I whipped my head around and Eric snorted. Wes gave my rump a long squeeze and then rocked the tail up and down swiftly, telling me I was learning fast. My skin literally crawled at his touch and I thought of the journey from trusted aide to camel. I tried to still my strangled, loud breathing and then a sob broke forth from within. I chewed the bit to control myself. Only the top part of the stall door was open. I stood waiting against the bottom but suddenly another low door closed behind my legs, locking me in place. "Bawling's not gonna do either of us any good, Rocky." Wes wiped my face, chest and back of the sweat flowing from my pores. He rubbed my back above the belt and squeezed my arm almost gently. Then he again gave me an inspection, checking my back and then my front, tugging on straps or adjusting my balls until he was quite satisfied. My cock went mad, jutting up and down ferociously. "Man, that prick won't quit!" Eric was as amused as he was amazed. Wes sighed and walked to the wall where the tail had hung. He removed a shiny, worn leather strap with a wooden handle and moved behind me explaining his actions to his pal. "All new slaves must be prepared for the sheik." Eric asked what he meant. I screamed inside at the words but the smack refocused my attention. It sounded like an explosion in this place, startling me into a muffled shout behind the bit. I flinched but could not move. Eric yelled and jumped the little fence to stand in front of me. His loud, deep voice betrayed a new level of excitement. "Yeah, give that slave a good licking!" He absent mindedly scratched his crotch and got in my face, reverting to "gangsta" tones. "My bud's taking you to the woodshed!" Wes lashed and I jumped, crying out again. "How much time, Eric?" The gloating young man replied "three minutes". It is truly amazing what a determined trainer can accomplish with a strap in that amount of time. Over and over it whacked and I was helpless to do anything but stand there and listen to the taunts and loud, echoing cracks of the paddle. Eric had a handsome lopsided smile, cracked his knuckles and drew close with a hangdog look and a phony "ah". My muffled cries were lost in the ear-shattering flurry of licks. "How red is that pretty tail getting, Rocky?" He stood, hands on hips, rocking back and forth then he pulled my forehead to his shoulder and rubbed the back of my head. I jerked and screamed as his best bud thrashed me soundly. When the doors opened I was driven outside, realizing suddenly that this was no dream. My emotions overflowed, anus throbbing and my rear end blazing. The sheik stood beside a small hibalya, the light carriage so common in the area. I was guided toward it right behind another camel that stood mutely. His pink rump contracted around the bushy tail that flowed from his bottom. I almost bolted but Wes kept a firm grip on my arm. I was moved in place and the straps were connected to the reins. I shivered even in the heat. The sheik strolled over and nodded, satisfied, as I wiggled and gasped, my dread a living, breathing entity. He snickered at my hardon and gave my red rump a friendly pat. "Look at him, a package of testosterone just raring to go. You know he played soccer on the national team? What a find!" Wes was quickly tightening the various locks and adjusting the straps. "All that hair and he's not even 30. I want that chest hair taken care of now." Wes nodded and ran away. He was back in seconds carrying a buzzing object. Quickly he ran it up and down my chest, removing all evidence of black curls. I wept harder at yet another blow to my manhood. "Leave him a treasure trail, a thick one, right up to his neck." Finally he stopped and fished a comb from his pocket. He ran it thru my short hair, then my wet, rank armpits. The sheik half-jokingly told him to get the thick, black trail of curls. He started at my neck and moved lower. I gasped when the sheik said not to forget my pubes. I stood tail and straight, my chest heaving, cock jumping excitedly as Wes slowly combed the sweaty, thick black curls until they fluffed out. The tears from my eyes matched the little ones from my prick. The sheik swiped a hot drop of sperm, gave it a whiff, and wiped it on my upper lip. I scarcely noticed the aroma I was so caught up in the events, staring at the camel in front of me. Wes held my arm as he rubbed oil on my steaming bottom. I was practically choking in apprehension and yet it was normal business here. Wes kept nudging the tail as he rubbed but that was nothing compared to what would happen once I started moving. The mood shifted when the sheik climbed into the hibalya and asked if the hump was turned on. Wes replied that it was and gave my shoulder a hearty squeeze, whispering that he knew I would do well. Eric was talking quietly to the squirming camel in front of me and when he turned slightly I saw that his fingers were teasing the man's dickhead. The poor guy's ears were bright red in shame and the teasing ceased only when the reins flicked and we set out. This could not be happening but I ran after the camel. I was naked and hard, gritting my teeth on the bit as the thousands of sensations hit like a tidal wave. I felt the heavy shoes, bouncing clamps, the straps, the hurried pace. I almost collapsed I was shuddering so violently from the relentless bouncing, heavy tail. I could barely see for the sweat and tears as I placed one foot in front of the other and my attention wandered. What would the sheik do if I simply stopped? Then I jumped and yelped when he smacked my rump with a sharp lick and a loud order. "No dallying, slave." The strap popped again with an amazing sting as it landed on my right then left butt with a carefully controlled flicks of the wrist. The leather whipped and landed under the tail and I grunted and trotted faster as if I could escape the licks. I sucked the leather bit furiously and noticed we were headed toward one of the houses I'd seen in the distance. I could hear him talking on his cell, telling the person to hold on and then delivering a mighty lick. He told the person on the phone he'd just purchased a fine camel and he should come over and take a ride. I jumped at another sharp lash. "Show some energy, slave!" He stopped once to talk to one of the managers of his estate and we were parked beneath a palm tree. Large pouches of water hung and I stood beside the other camel and sucked ardently, the warm water amazingly refreshing. I smelled my own fear as the sweat flowed from every pore on my body. The other man had a good-sized cock and sparse brown hair around his crotch. We said nothing since we were closely watched. The sheik told me the man was deemed "camel material" as soon as he arrived three months ago. We fell silent when the sheik climbed on board. A worker roughly returned us to our place, cinching the tethers extra tight. My anus buzzed, my legs ached and my bottom radiated heat and soreness. My cock seemed stuck in this upward position and no matter how often it happened, I cringed when we caught the attention of some passerby. The sheik thrashed throughout the trip, loudly but intermittently, each lick a resounding clap. He smacked the back of my legs and my sides occasionally. I was out of breath, dripping in hot sweat, thinking that every step was my last. We finally arrived at the house and a local worker came forward and led us away, still bound to one another by the reins. The Arab lad held the leather grips of our bits, pulling us like true animals to the back. I was startled to see a camel grazing back there, such a huge creature. A sprinkler shot water into a large arc and we were allowed to stand in the stream that was amazingly refreshing. We lapped cool water from a bowl to our heart's content. The lad set out a large bowl of couscous and lamb on a table and led us over. We had to bend over to eat, our bottoms high in the air. I was hungry and any nourishment was welcome at this point. As we ate he moved behind us and removed our tails and I felt my anus relax. He stood behind me, snickering, yet it was a blessed relief even as he rubbed my steaming rump, measuring the heat! When we finished he returned us to the spray where we whispered furtively. We were side by side still in our straps and fell asleep amid dreams of escape. Remarkably, my cock had softened by the time the sheik strolled out of the house and approached. I held my breath as he drew closer, my throat bobbing in anticipation. He motioned to us and we hurried over. "Have an enjoyable rest, camels?" We nodded that we certainly had, mumbled thanks. "Don't get used to it because in five minutes you will be on the road again. I better not see any evidence of slacking off or these little rest stops will be few and far between. Now get back to the hibalya or you'll feel my strap." I hurried but he caught my arm and grinned. "You've already felt my strap, haven't you Rocky?" Oh God, he knew my nickname. I was almost beyond shock when he laughed. "Turn around and let's see the damage." With a heavy heart I revolved, allowing him to inspect me here in a backyard of a house. I looked up and saw the worker smugly gazing and again that instant shock of realization hit. He felt the welts and dark spots and chuckled, telling me we'd see what score he got. His soft strokes did nothing but remind me that I was his property and most likely, would get the same treatment on the way back. When I faced him again, my cock was again as hard as my nickname. We were moved in place and the tails shoved back inside. The reins were snapped and we were off. We had not traveled fifty feet when the first pop from the lash smacked fully across my behind. I jumped and gasped and heard a chuckle. What saved me from an even worse thrashing was his constant talking on the cell. Once he told the caller to wait while he smacked his camel's bottom. I was not even aware of where we were going or what was happening. I heaved and gasped, staring at the bouncing tail, the pink bottom and the broad back as I lifted one foot in front of the other. I stumbled and fell once and the sheik climbed down. I feared a beating but he waited until I was back in place and let both of us drink. We pissed while we ran, unable to stop for any length of time. When he pulled on the reins my mind flashed, what now? Then I heard the familiar whistle and realized we'd returned. Wes came out of the barn alone and although I was exhausted, sore and sweating like a pig, the relief I felt was indescribable. He walked up and gave my cock a quick squeeze causing me to back away. "Still living up to your name, right Rocky?" He was amused and as I stared straight ahead he placed a cool palm on my rump and looked up at the sheik. "I see you held back a little." I gasped. Held back? Wes rubbed the flaming flesh absentmindedly as he chatted with the sheik, my feelings of abject unworthiness ballooning. The sheik said I'd performed "magnificently". A well of gratitude gushed even if I was praised for such a lowly task as pulling him like a camel. Wes removed the hump and told the sheik he scored a 44. The man nodded and said he had been distracted a lot of the time. Wes grabbed our handles and pulled us into the barn. We were both gasping for breath and the sweat dripped from our bodies as if we had emerged from a lake. The other camel was dropped off on the way and Wes led me to stall 15. He squeezed my shoulder, a genuine smile on his face. "Rocky, I am really proud of that report. Not many camels get such good remarks the first time out. You're a natural with those powerful legs, proud stance and big boner!" He beamed and I stared straight ahead, overcome, as he removed my strap, bit, shoes and finally the tail until I stood stark naked in front of him. He began to instruct me in my duties that included keeping the leather clean and shiny, washing the tails, polishing the boots and jerking off in less than a minute. I looked at him in utter amazement and he looked at his watch. "Fifty seconds." I stuttered, a million questions and protests swarming in my brain and then he said "35 seconds". Oh shit, I needed to come so bad. I began flaying my cock like a madman but it was much too late. "Stop!" I looked at him, holding my cock, chin on my chest. He placed my hands behind my head. My poor dick was so eager and so needy of relief that I literally whimpered. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me toward the waiting sloshing bag and tube. "Maybe next time you'll start beating that meat when I tell you. Now it's time for your enema -- we want you all nice and clean inside and out! I felt the tube brush my anus and Eric walked in, always with that arrogant grin. Wes was in a good mood, quite talkative. "The sheik gave Rocky a glowing report!" Wes pushed the tube inside me and the soapy water filled me once more. Eric laughed, strolled over and rubbed my steaming rump as I was bent double. "He also gave him a glowing behind, right Rocky?" Wes thought that quite funny and was still laughing when I exploded on the bucket, holding myself above the rim due to the pain of my backside. On hands and knees, I crawled down a corridor to an open area and lined up with other human camels. At least 20 men were here, almost all Westerners. Food was served on plastic plates and like the others I lapped it up with gusto. Behind me I heard the trainers murmur or laugh and once I looked and saw several strangers staring at us. Oh fuck, they were observing us as we ate -- what else did they see? Back in my stall Wes showed me the soft mat on the wall. I set it on the floor, next to the wall and lay on my back, groaning as my rump throbbed painfully. My hands were cuffed wide apart and Wes leaned over, face to face as my cock throbbed, bouncing off my belly. He fetched a soft, small pillow and slid it under my head. "We better trim some of that body hair now, don't you think?" I swallowed, the memory of the sheik's words suddenly so very real. We heard someone calling for him and then the sound of voices. Wes turned and I looked up, trying to see the fracas and cause for all the noise. A worker stood in the doorway. "Sir, we just got an influx of camels -- six more for the sheik. Where do you want them?" Wes walked over and looked over the group of frightened men waiting with chains. He took the arm of one of them and pulled him into the stall. "Distribute the rest where you can, I'll take this one." The man was dragged forward, his face set in a furrowed scowl. I gasped in recognition. It was the redhead Philly mechanic who had been with Nikos. I would have recognized him anywhere -- that hard, square jaw and brooding eyes, the tough boy manner. Did Wes feel kinship with another redhead or did he know he was an American? The man's attitude was unaffected by months of servitude and I thought of my own quick surrender. My cuffs were undone and I was ordered to fill a tub, fetch straps, carry objects while the man stood in his worn slacks and undershirt. "Strip! Those clothes are filthy." The man stifled a response as he nonchalantly removed his clothes. He stood naked, unconcerned, lean and fit with bright, red pubes. A tattoo on his chest blared "LUV 2 FUCK". It seemed to go along with the whole blue collar image. His cock was swollen but not fully erect. Wes called Eric on a cell and told him to have the others outside ASAP, ready to run. The new guy who Wes dubbed "Red" now underwent the transformation to a camel. His stoicism did not outlast the enema as he knelt in the center of the room, breathing deep and ragged. I heard a gurgle, a gasp as the straps were tightened and when he faced me, tears flowed down his crimson cheeks and his cock stood straight up. I could not help but stare at his enormous balls lifted high by the cock ring, resting on either side of his erection. The skin was pulled very tight so that almost every detail could be seen. "You're going for a little night trot, Red. I'm sure we can get some of the local lads to take you for a spin around the place. You'll get a good bath when you return." The man did not even acknowledge the words but remained motionless, fighting back tears. Wes turned to me. "Grab a "medium" and a "small" tail." An earthquake went off inside me when he picked up my straps. "You're going with your new roommate, Rocky." I blazed angry then fearful and protested. He held up his hand but I continued. He grimaced and stepped forward and in a blur slapped my face hard. My head jerked back at the force. "You don't argue with me. I can keep you out there all night long if I want. You got experience and besides you were a real trooper the first time out." He smiled now and quickly had me in the damn straps, clamps and boots. It was not any easier this time, not one bit and when he squeezed my rump and asked if I'd settled down now I shook my head slowly, blinking back those tears that I thought were under control. I started down the corridor followed by Red. Wes had a wooden paddle and walloped his bottom harshly. The guy from Philly cried out as another smack landed, wood on bare, wet skin, the worst combination. The crack of the board echoed in the large place. Wes paddled him thru the building and his cries became louder and more desperate as did his frantic movements to avoid the board. When we were in the clear, Wes placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him. They passed a group of local lads milling about and Wes gave him an especially hard wallop and they cheered. We stood in front of a hibalya and both of us chewed the soaked leather ferociously. Red was wracked with small spasms, his colored rump in constant motion. Wes turned to the guys and asked if they would be interested in "breaking in" some new camels. Shouts filled the air and we cringed. There was no shortage of volunteers and Wes chose two robust guys with big smirks. When the others complained he told them more camels were on their way. They began screaming, warning us of what he faced. The pair reacted as most young men would -- pumping their fists and even doing a little impromptu dance. Wes gave them orders. "Slather that red bottom and get those tails in place." One of them dipped his hand in a bucket and smacked Red's hot flesh before rubbing the oil in roughly. The other held our tails up and told us exactly what he was going to do. He shoved the thing inside him, working it in and out, deeper until Red spread his legs as far as possible to ease the pressure. They cinched it very tight, ramming it deep. He cried out at the wide dildo that for some reason was a "medium". His cock stood straight up, throbbing with tension and need as the amused men tormented it along with the huge set of testicles. I was also impaled and felt as if it were a baseball bat inside me. My nuts were teased mercilessly and they stood before us, their smug tones cutting to the quick. "That bit's soaked in hardon juice so bite hard and kept those pricks standing nice and tall for us." They smirked and elbowed one another as we swallowed and wiggled. Our hips squirmed wildly and the tails flew in the air as we tried vainly to satisfy that throbbing. I stared ahead, jerking as the loud licks resounded from inside the barn and other camels joined us, all with wagging hips and bushy camel tails doing a little dance. Two by two they were lined up by Wes and Eric and bound to waiting habilyas. The local lads had the poor camels in bitter tears soon, teasing and touching them at will. Two guys stood before a trussed-up pair, tickling and pinching them. Swollen balls were always targeted as were the wet, near-bursting knobs. Two pals got into a loud debate before a pair of terrified camels over who was going to whip the hardest. These workers were not being cruel but simply blowing off steam and what better way to pass the time than to break in a new camel with a buddy? The pair climbed up in the hibalya behind ignoring our suffering, giving no words of encouragement or kindness. Instead a loud pop rang out and Red jerked as we hurried off. I flinched when a blow landed and I knew this story well -- the boisterous drivers would try to outdo one another. The attitudes of the drivers were almost as difficult to take as the pops from their straps. Trotting down a darkened path at night, driven faster and faster by two chortling young men with straps was so demeaning. There was no escape and these young men showed no mercy nor did their energy wane. This trip only built on today's thrashing - my rump was blistered and exploded with pain at every fierce pop. Red had it no easier but at some point they began arguing and wrestling over who hit hardest and this took up some of their time. At last we returned and Wes greeted us with a calming voice. "Whoa there, camels. You two have fun?" The scathing laughter of the drivers as they jumped down told the story. He pulled us into the stall by our bits. We were exhausted - red, dripping with sweat, defeated. My bottom was swollen and incredibly sore. We sunk to our knees in the middle of the stall and even in this state I wondered if we would be given a chance to come. Wes quickly removed the straps as Eric dropped by. "Hey man. We got a lot to process but can you scrub this one while I give Rocky a trim?" I swallowed at those words -- a trim. After a quick bath Wes sat my hot rump on a small, round metal stool. The surface was cold to my bottom but I was in agony. I locked my hands behind my head and panted and squirmed. "That ass is positively glowing, Rocky. Bet it hurts like a mother fucker." He chuckled as the shears in his hand suddenly buzzed. He moved behind me and quickly gave me a buzz, turning my head from side to side, bending it forward as he worked. The clippers went silent. "If you ain't a handsome fucker with that black stubble and powerful body - and here you are a good camel. Eric, look at that prick. It's about to blast off for the moon." The vibrations had made my cock go wild and I sat, legs spread as my cock literally bopped up and down. The chuckles were again almost unbearable and I felt more exposed than ever. He got my armpits next, cutting the long curls to an even, short length. He was whistling again, a merry little tune, and he gave me a smirking grin as we both stared at my relentlessly pounding cock. He dropped to one knee and spread my legs wider, then matter-of-factly trimmed the thick, black pubes. My tears streamed as he worked. It was worse than the enema, the nakedness or the tail, something so debasing it was unimaginable. Worse, I was on the verge of a huge spurt and feared what that would mean. He carefully snipped and sheared leaving a thick, short growth spreading from my crotch like an explosion. "On your back and grab your ankles, let's get that crack." A new feeling of dread hit with a jolt and when I looked up and saw Eric snickering, the humiliation consumed me. I held my feet high, legs wide apart as Wes knelt again and pulled out a comb. He teased the curls out before cutting the ends and my cock leaked steadily the whole time. Eric shook his head and I wanted to knock that wide grin off his face. "You two are something. Rocky and Red -- sounds like a fucking porno movie." They both chuckled and Wes told him to catch my feet. I grunted at the strain as he pulled back, my toes touching the ground over my head. Wes swiped a dollop of cream and gently coated my anus then forced his finger thru the quivering opening, coating my rectum, the intimacy literally consuming my oxygen. Out of the corner of my eye Red squatted in the water. His cock was hard and his face was scrunched up but he could not hold back tears. I heard a sound and Wes answered his cell without a pause. He didn't even pull out his finger! He slowly massaged my rectum until I began twitching. Red was roughly fingered and bound beside me. Both of us gasped at the pain to our bottoms and were restless with huge boners and desperate need. Our humiliation prevented much conversation bit I was grateful for companionship even if was nothing more than sharing my suffering. The next morning we were "saddled" very early. Even at this time a steady stream of visitors waited for a ride. A soldier and his girlfriend walked over. Her presence was mortifying in a way that cannot be described, a suffocating knot of desire that I could barely grasp. She had a half smile, long dark hair, full lips - gorgeous. She stood behind her boyfriend as he talked to Wes. The trio stopped in front of me. I could hide neither my obvious misery nor my erection that quivered at the scent of her perfume. Wes raised my face and wiped my wet, hot brow, smiling almost gently. She flicked her tongue over her ruby lip1s and when she looked down I knew I was leaking. I thought of my freshly-trimmed pubes and armpits, my enormous dark cock achingly stiff. Her presence was almost consuming in the morning sun. Red was also affected by the scene and his cock was equally stiff. Like most men we'd woken with hardons that had not been touched. When Red's tail was playfully rocked up and down he moaned, trembling with silent convulsions. She gently traced welts on his hot rump then drifted to his curly, red pubes. Wes and her boyfriend talked while she explored the thick hairs between his legs and he blinked back hot tears. Nothing had prepared him for this. She seemed fascinated with his large testicles and he emitted loud groans behind the bit as her fingers explored further, squeezing lightly and rubbing. The soldier helped her onto the hibalya then snapped the reins. The strap flicked instantly and she clapped and cheered when Red yelped. I heard her over the clop of our feet and our harried breathing. "Get the big one." The man complied gladly and I jumped yet her presence prevented any real punishment. She tried her hand but struck the hump with ineffectual smacks. The man laughed and said he'd show her a thing or two about how to wield a strap. Fortunately he was too horny to care much about punishing us, preferring to get a hand job as we trotted. The sounds of their lovemaking only made it worse. We returned in a few hours, sore, dusty and sweaty. After a meal and a short nap Wes lined us up for another trip. "Camels that trot together perform well. They can synchronize their actions so much better." I didn't give a shit and neither did Red. He must have detected our attitudes for he glared and strode away angrily. He returned with a group of Canadian junior executives, grabbed our cocks to a chorus of belly laughs and pulled us to a hibalya. "I'm going to make sure these two stay focused." The men were in the region and had heard about the camel farm. The mortification was even worse than this morning, being on display in this demoralizing outfit before these sharply dressed executives. He let them torment us and our tails were pulled and jiggled as they exchanged high fives and doubled over with laughter at our reaction and quivering pricks. "Damn, look at that fucking pecker." I shut my eyes and felt fingers on my rump. "Got any gal camels?" When they were told we could be taken for rides and soundly thrashed, a mad rush for the hibalyas ensued. Two men, fit and vigorous, claimed our hibalya and took straps, swinging, nodding and grinning as Wes oiled our cocks and bottoms. Red took a sharp breath when his bulging nuts were thoroughly oiled. All of a sudden it was dark and silent as Wes made use of blindfolds and earplugs. It was all touch now and goose bumps rose on my scrotum. I flinched when the reins were attached and a strong hand squeezed my rump -- a promise and a threat. The reins were shaken and we set off. The strap startled me, playing a tune on my behind that afternoon, striking unexpectedly and harshly. These two businessmen yelled and congratulated one another. We'd march for a while then a fierce explosion on my rump made me straighten and go faster. They stopped often to let us drink and I flinched at the palms that tested the heat of my rear end. My cock remained erect and I chewed the leather bit with all my effort even though it was oaked in the hardon liquid. I was faint with heat and shame and my legs ached. Since we were mute, we had to nod or shake our head when a question was shouted in our plugged ears. Our trek in broad daylight was so terrifying -- what were strangers thinking about us? When they learned Red was an American they greeted him like a long-lost pal. One of them pulled out his ear plugs and tried to engage him but his attitude was untamed. He pointedly turned his back on the man who became furious. I could hear him yelling even with the ear plugs. "Who the fuck you think you are? You're a slave with a boner and an attitude. Just wait till we get going and I'll show you an attitude!" My heart raced as the reins were shaken and I could only imagine his terror. I heard a loud whack and then a shout behind the gag as the thrashing got under way. We raced, stumbling and frantic. The young man was relentless in his punishment. I was not neglected but for Red it was unceasing. My sense of time vanished and it felt like I had been pulling the little cart for days when the reins tightened and we drew to a halt. They jumped down, invigorated, and quickly related their adventure to their buddies. It never grew easier, particularly having to face a new round of visitors daily. We lined up outside the barn and stood at attention as the grinning visitors surveyed us. The scene was unreal -- a along row of tanned, naked muscular men, cocks primed, proud postures and breaking hearts. Often the visitor walked up and down in front of us, then behind us, pinching and testing muscles, asking waiting friends who snickered what they thought. I was singled out a week later by visitors from Wales. I'd been driven almost exclusively by locals up to that point. Wes walked over to steady me and the man chatted with his gal and two other couples. They walked with him making comments. The women were red with excitement or embarrassment, I was not sure. He stopped in front of me and looked up and down as I held my breath. "Hey Ross, is that thing real?" I gasped at the woman's voice and made a small sound through clinched teeth, sweating profusely when he took the tip in two fingers and pulled it down slowly. He looked at his friends with a delicious smirk as he did bent it lower. My cock ached it was so hard. They could hardly wait for him to let go and when he did it sprang back and smacked my stomach loudly. I cried out, unable to keep silent in the face of such an ignominious act. I was turned around and the stripes on my pink rump were examined with "oohs" and "ahs" as I broke down. Wes stood in front of me, arms folded, watching steadily. They chose me and Wes insisted that Red accompany us. Strangely, this time we marched with a minimum of orders and punishment. Many times we were lent to local farmers. Some of the most horrifying experiences took place on these small farms. Once a farmer showed up with his nephew who worried the whole time that he would not win a soccer scholarship to the university this fall. I pulled them to the farm and was tethered to an old, heavy planter. The black earth in this area was rich with minerals and it had rained recently, a rare event in this godforsaken place. My boots stuck in the mud as I pulled the planter. The uncle said the entire field must be planted by noon and then he left me alone with the lad. He was on his cell almost immediately, exclaiming his boredom with having to watch a big-dicked camel. I heard a loud, "Sure, we're in the fields." I returned and he placed another bag of seed in the chute admonishing me to hurry up. I looked up on my way back and my heart fluttered. Standing with him were two buddies who were obviously having a good time, laughing and punching each other lightly. They turned as I drew near and I heard a loud, "See what I mean?" I was stopped as the trio watched amused. "What a boner, how the hell he keep that big thing so hard?" The nephew laughed and pointed out my bit that was soaked in the hardon juice. "Plus, they aren't allowed to come except once at the end of the day. They got only one minute and they told my uncle this stud hasn't come for 10 days." The friends were flabbergasted, shaking their heads, carrying on as if I had three heads. "No shit, man. No way some dude is gonna keep from popping." The nephew went on to tell him how our hands were always bound even at night. In the silence one of them had an idea. I felt my stomach rumble at his suddenly energetic tone. "Hey, let's see who can make him go the fastest. Up and down, top guy rides shotgun for two weeks." They were arguing and screaming then one of the pals yelled they'd draw to determine order. One of the buddies was first. "Ready with the timer?" He turned to me, ruddy faced and grinning. "You ready, slave, to run fast." I nodded, gagged, and he rubbed my scalp. "I hope so cause I'm gonna beat your ass if you don't." He held a rubber strap and smiled. The others had a countdown from 10 and then shouted go. I jumped to pull but just how fast can you go when you're attached to a heavy load in soggy ground with heavy boots. The strap whistled and hit -- what a fucking wallop! It propelled me rush faster and the guy yelled encouragement. "That's the spirit, slave. Now you got the rhythm." He turned to the others. "See, this camel knows who to fear." I slowed a little and he lashed hard. "No slacking, slave." Fifteen feet from the end he really delivered a smack and I rushed to get over the "finish line". The time was 2: 16. The nephew was next and though I was rested it was still harder than the first time. He beat a steady tattoo on the way back and amazingly I beat the time by 3 seconds. I was huffing and puffing, knees weak. "You two are going about this all wrong." The last guy removed the tail and I sighed in relief. I watched in horror as he pulled out a piece of ginger from his pocket and rubbed it up and down the dildo, coating the thing. The others were laughing so hard they could barely stand, holding one another up while hooting and celebrating. They slapped his back and made triumphant little shouts like he'd discovered the secret to immortality. The smirking kid took hold of my cock and jerked, holding up the coated tail. "This thing is going right back up your ass and if you're smart you will trot like your life depended on it. You win and I'll clean it off -- guaranteed. You lose and it's itchy ass all day. Got it, dickhead?" I nodded, unfortunately understanding all too well. He shoved the tail in and waited until I started squirming before lining me up. They yelled "Go!" and I bolted. The searing itch of the ginger invaded every crevice of my rectum, spreading the horrible sensation like a colony of ants up my butt. I jerked and wiggled but more than anything I hurried. They were screaming and I was yelling behind the gag and the lad gave me a shattering lick with the paddle. "Get that itchy ass in gear, dickhead!" He punctuated that with another stupendous lick and I trudged fanatically, my pride non-existent. My only concern was my rectum that radiated the awful sensations in waves. Even the fierce licks could not get my mind off my churning insides. I crossed the line and the guy went wild at the time. "1:55!" He yelled it over and over and even gave me a big bear hug, slapping my back. He backed away. "And look at that cock leaking and dancing -- great job, slave!" True to his word he pulled out the dildo and the itch came down a notch. The others pressed my shoulders and told me I was Grade A material, treating me more as a hero than a lowly slave. They kept reliving the little scene. "Did you see that fucker fly? Maybe our soccer team needs a little ginger." They laughed as I stood, shivering in the faint breeze as he scraped the ginger away with a clear cloth then rubbed it with oil. It grew quiet as he stood behind me and despite their rampant masculinity I saw the trio adjusting hard cocks at the thought of ramming the thing back inside me. The nephew spoke oddly. "His insides need cleaning." The other two waited while he dragged me to a broken down machine. Protruding from the top was a smooth, rounded metal bar. He coated it with oil. "Get up there, slave. It's for your own good." I would have eaten dirt to relieve the itch but still I shivered at what he asked. I climbed, trying to ignore the trio that watched in anticipation from below. The nephew climbed up and stood beside me. "OK, squat now, you know what to do -- up and down." "It's just a lazy fuck, guys, only he's the one getting fucked." He kept an arm around my shoulders as I lowered myself on the slick, thick thing and slid back and forth. The fire inside was quelled with each successive plunge. The other two yelled that they could see the thing go in and out of my red ass. Up and down I moved, feeling fingers down there touching me, sighing as the itching subsided. I looked down and saw a large wet patch on his pants. He saw my glance and told me to stare straight ahead. In minutes I was hooked up to the planter and stomping up and down the field. When I finally finished I was given a long drink then brought to the back of the shed. Wordlessly, with lots of loud pants, they lowered their trousers and surrounded me, thrusting eager cocks aching for relief. I was pushed on my knees, still bound by the straps and tail. I was pulled from dick to dick, rammed hard on the throbbing, leaking organs. I had to clean the thick black hairs, suck balls and one of them made me kiss his ass while another had me lick his sweaty arm pits. I licked their flat stomachs as they joked and reveled - a muscular, masculine Westerner forced to service their needs. Eventually all exploded in my mouth, huge, thick wads of sperm nearly choking me and I swallowed every last drop. Ginger was always an option for disobedience. Without a word the two left, almost embarrassed about the ordeal. The nephew pulled up his trousers, sneering at me and walked behind me back to the house. I hurried as fast as I could. On the return trip the nephew rode back in the hibalya in silence. I saw the farm at last but he pulled on the reins and dismounted. "What happens if you trot in with a limp cock?" I could not speak with the bit but I tried to frantically convey my message. He smirked and paused, pondering my fate. I was struck with fear but what could I do at the moment? He reached out with a big smile and grabbed my cock. He was relentless -- up and down - and I found myself begging this lad not to make me cum. I suddenly felt the sudden plunge and knew I could not hold back and then it hit, the force of the release racking my body. I stood still, straight and cried out as I spurted at last, his hand whipping furiously even as shot after shot rose in huge arcs. When I'd calmed after a few seconds he nodded curtly and mounted, satisfied. "Let's see what your trainer has to say." I shivered, I mean literally shook to my toes. My heart pounded and my anxiety was like a three-fire alarm. Surely he would allow me to explain. Wes came out whistling as normal but frowned when he caught eye of my limp prick. He began talking to the driver. "He did a good job on the farm, hard worker, but the whole time it was like he was in heat or something. We were trotting back and suddenly he stopped and damn if he wasn't shooting a load." Wes replied it was my first time and some leniency should be shown. I had a choice -- accept his punishment or return for another day on the farm. What a dilemma! He fingered the wooden board that hung from his belt as it to warn me of at least one of my options. I shuffled, hoping he would dismiss the whole thing but he made me choose. Swallowing, I looked at the paddle and nodded, biting my lip as the lad moved to the side. I took one glance and he covered his smirk with his hand. Wes wasted no time. He unbuckled the paddle, jerked the tail up and as the driver watching in grim satisfaction, Wes gave me an old-fashioned paddling. My bottom jiggled with heat and an unbelievable sting as he smacked one booming whack after another. The lad watched closely until I was dancing and hollering behind the bit. Wes stopped and rebuckled the belt. This was pure chastisement, no lectures this time. He grabbed the handle of the bit as the driver walked up. "No hard feelings, slave. You'll just have to learn to control that dick." I was in agony and Wes made me nod and agree with the bastard. I was led into the barn, convulsing with spasms, tears streaming yet again, trying to catch my breath. I was quickly bathed and my steaming rump oiled before eating dinner. The next morning Wes returned, white t-shirt and jeans, backwards hat. He had a confession. "John saw that guy jerk you off yesterday, Rocky. Sorry I didn't inquire." I nodded, grateful for the apology but wishing the worker could have been more forthright and saved my ass. For the next few days I worked around the barn and then it was out with Red for the hibalyas. Days became weeks and despite the trials and tribulations, the place became almost like home. We no longer committed any stupid errors and most of our punishment was due to our driving need. I finally gathered the courage to tell Wes that keeping us on the very edge actually hindered our performance. He nodded but that night sent in a camel being punished. The man who looked like a dockworker begged but Eric was insistent. The tough guy fell to his knees and in seconds I'd shot a huge load down his throat. He tried to stand but was directed to Red's pulsing member for yet another huge wad. It was one of the best sleeps in my life. Sometimes, Wes would kneel between us and pump out a spurt. He left us red-faced, sweaty and temporarily satisfied. The night before Red was to be released we talked about our time as camels. He made a vow to obey the law when he returned -- no fighting, drugs or any other shit. We were side by side as usual, dicks pulsing and he recalled the time before he got here, the horror of the slavery in a private house where even the gardener could torment him. Despite the daily grind this was the best of all worlds -- we were in great shape, well-fed although I shuddered still at the need for discipline, Wes was a great trainer. We marched only some of the time and sometimes he'd get us drivers who were lax on the strap. When punishment was required we still pleaded to no avail. Once we were discovered beside a tree attempting to rub our cocks, an act that is strictly forbidden. We returned at noon and Wes was told. Right in front of us he rubbed the ginger on our tails. In less than a minute we were both hooked up to one of the orchard carts used on the estate. In horror I noticed that we had no bit -- every cry from my throat was audible. My left hand was bound to the back of his collar and his right hand bound to the back of mine. The sight was surely hilarious -- two strapping guys, side by side like buddies, wagging and shaking their butts frantically. "These two are here for one reason -- they've been bad boys. Work `em hard, fellows." The workers needed no encouragement and were soon forcing us to march faster, wait, turn, rocking the tails inside us while our rectums itched unmercifully. When the whistle blew we were wrecks. The manager was the last with us, a powerful man. He eyed us as he took down a leather straps and walked toward us. Menacing cannot begin to describe the effect. He thrashed us soundly, wordlessly, remorseless, stopping only to feel the heat or chuckle at our tears. We were then led back to the barn. Wes asked if we'd learned our lesson and we promised we had. Other punishments were available -- that ginger was rubbed on my balls once when I would not speed up. Likewise, my bulging cock head was rubbed with the stuff one day and I trotted at the head of a trio of camels. I could hear even their laughter at the frantic movement of my hips as I tried to weave my tortured swollen knob in the air. One of the most excruciating tortures I endured was as bad on the soul as the body. The tail was not used but instead we were pierced by a thick rubber nozzle that connected to a bulging rubber sack of sloshing water. As we marched, we were slowly filled, emptied then filled again. The time it happened to me the driver did not even bother to find a hidden place but made me squat on the side of the road. I wept the entire time, never accepting the punishment. One day I felt the reins shake and I took off. The unknown driver behind me was silent but that was not unusual. The strap walloped me good and I straightened and ran faster. On our next stop the driver disappeared and I was taken inside by a worker who scrubbed me thoroughly. He spoke only Arabic so I could ask no questions. I was dried and taken to room where my old suit awaited me along with deodorant and cologne. Release was too much to hope for but I dressed, shaking in excitement at the possibility. I waited for what seemed like hours until the door opened and Nikos entered. He stared at me and I found myself on my knees, kissing his shoes, crying for forgiveness. He raised me with a steady hand -- "We're going home, Jere".