Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002 05:29:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Brown Pete <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave And The Electricians - Later Life
THE SLAVE AND THE ELECTRICIANS: LATER LIFE
By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
FROM "JOURNAL OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIAL STUDIES"
PREFACE
An earlier paper in my series on modern slavery told,
largely in their own words, the story of how two
ordinary electricians readily adapted to the use of
slaves in their work ("The Slave And The Electricians,
Journal Of Contemporary Social Studies, January 2010).
Whilst I had intended to continue their history in a
later paper in the series, after I had examined other
issues affecting contemporary slavery, a number of
researchers have contacted me privately to ask for my
notes from my interviews with the electricians, the
slave, and the newly-enslaved Marine in order that
their own work could be furthered.
Rather than have many researchers transcribing my
notes separately, I have brought forward the second
part of the story of these ordinary men. Let us be
clear: these are not "intellectuals" who could
rationalise the practice of slavery on economic and
social grounds. The electricians are ordinary,
working-class men who were exposed to a new
environment and made the most of it. The primary
slaves of course are farm-bred, and whilst the stock
there is selected for its general aptitude and
abilities, they are deliberately not "educated" in the
sense that we understand the term - their "education"
is to accept their lot, willingly. Whilst the slave
"3" may actually be intellectually superior to either
of the electricians Steve and John, his lack of early
education now gives him a hurdle that he cannot
readily overcome. In the circumstances, the
adaptations that he makes to the "new world"
represented by the arrival of Steve and John are
impressive. It is also clear that the Marine has a
great ability to adapt - again, this is not "officer
material" with advanced education, just an ordinary
"grunt private" who, through circumstances beyond his
control, goes from doing his duty by his country to a
wholly different set of requirements for "duty".
I hope readers will find this exposition of the
adaptations that these "ordinary" men make is
instructive: with a proper education and publicity
programme, it is my belief that modern "humane"
slavery could easily be introduced in to the West,
with the majority of the working population easily
coming to terms with it.
Professor P Brown
London, February 2010
THE ELECTRICIANS
Our contract was up, and our six months done. So we
flew home - the contrast between the luxury of the
palace and the squalor of England when we got back was
very apparent.
I said goodbye to John at Heathrow because he was
catching the bus to Woking for his train to Dorset,
whereas I was going into London on the Underground. I
really thought it was the last I would ever see of
him, as he was full of how he was going to get married
straight away now he had saved enough for a deposit on
the house, then have nippers.... On and on about how
much he was looking forward to it. It was sad, really
- we'd been together a long time, and I'd got used to
having him around even though he could be annoying at
times. He was almost crying when we finally shook
hands, and was trying to say some thing that wouldn't
come out.
"Steve.... Steve..... "
"Yes, mate. Hurry up as the bus is about to go."
"Steve... I.... Steve... "
"Go on, spit it out."
"Steve... Thank you...."
I think he was trying to tell me he was grateful to me
for looking out for him these last couple of years.
But blokes don't say those sorts of things to each
other, do they? So in the usual way I did when I
wanted him to do something, I just said
"For fuck's sake, John. Stop pratting about, and get
on the fucking bus. And don't forget to send me an
invitation to that wedding of yours!"
I didn't look back as I walked away - actually, I was
more upset than I like to think as he was a really
nice bloke, and even though he was a bit of a nuisance
at times, I already missed him. But men don't cry
when they say goodbye to their mates, do they, so I
just quickened my pace and went down into the
Underground.
I'd given up the flat when we went abroad of course,
so I was going back to my mom and dad's place until I
found somewhere else. It was fucking awful - I only
had my old small cramped room, mom and dad were all
over me and never left me alone. Fucking hell - had I
given up all that in the Gulf for this?
I couldn't even stand staying in the first night - mom
and dad went on at me about being ungrateful and
everything as soon as I said I was going out to see my
mates, but I couldn't stand the stupid game shows on
the telly that they watched all the time, with the
sound turned right up. Fucking moronic, if you ask
me.
I wanted to start going out with birds again, but when
I got to my local I found a whole lot of them had
disappeared in the past months - they'd married, moved
away, etc. And the ones that were left were nothing
special. I got bored with the need to chase them and
chat them up - all I wanted was to get my leg over,
and they wanted to make a big deal of it.
I idled away a week, and got nowhere. I had to lie in
my little bed at night wanking myself, trying to stop
the cum leaking on the sheets in case my mom saw when
she changed the bed. It was just like being a little
kid again.
And I found I couldn't get a job - the construction
industry is very cyclical, and was going through a bad
time. There were lots of openings for blokes who
would go out and do poxey "household" work - fixing
plugs for old ladies, and the like. But wearing
overalls with some fucking company's name on them and
being made to do a quota of 10 calls a day was not for
me - too much like being a fucking slave! There was
one company that wanted me to wear overalls with
"operative 19" on the breast pocket: I might as well
have been branded.
Quite apart from anything else, you didn't even have a
lot of lads to talk to like on the site, just tired
old slags of housewives who thought that if they
chatted you up you might give them a jump. Actually,
I was so tired of wanking myself that if any of them
had been even half way reasonable looking, I would
have.
I tell you, life was fucking boring. And I didn't
even have enough savings to buy a flat - I'd made a
lot of money in the Gulf, but still not enough to buy
in London.
I wondered when the invite to John's big wedding was
going to come - I was looking forward to seeing him
again. Every night when I got home I scanned through
the post, expecting to hear, but there was no letter
or anything. I thought it was going to be almost
straight away, and every day I expected to hear.
After an evening out playing arrows, I get home one
night and Mom says there's a woman wants to speak to
me urgently. Dad says he supposed I've finally done
it and got a bun in someone's oven and she's going to
land me with a paternity suit: "that'll trim your
wings, when you're paying for a sprog.", he said. Ha
bloody ha.
I was going to leave it until the morning, but Mom
said she'd said I was to call that night, however late
it was. So I phone up the number, and it turns out
it's John's mom. She's at her wits end - John is in
his room, and won't come out. He's not eating, and
he's sort of crying all the time. She's remembered
that I'm his best mate, who he was always talking
about at weekends, and I'm now the only person she can
think of to do something for him. She's even been to
the doctor, who has given her some pills for him, but
he won't take them. She says she knows he's upset
about Carol.
"So who's Carol?", I ask her.
"His ex-fiancee."
"Ex? I though they were going to get married when he
got back!"
She tells me the whole story. It seems that whilst we
are away, Carol got married! As soon as John got home
and found out, he went all funny and hasn't been out
of his room since.
So I tell her I'll go down to Dorset and sort John out
straight away. But I don't have a car and the last
train, the 19:35, left hours ago. So I ring the
railways - you need a decent fucking service for
emergencies like this - and find that the earliest
train I can get the next morning is the 07:10. You
just can't get down there on public transport before
09:45, when it gets in. What a fucking shit house of
a country.
The next morning on the train I phone work on my moby
to tell them there's an emergency and I won't be in.
Five minutes later the fucking foreman phones me back
and says I'm fired! My money's in the post, and I
needn't bother going back to them again! Bloody John
getting me into problems again, as usual.
I suppose the country outside London is OK if you like
that sort of thing. The train takes an age to do the
140 miles or so, and I finally get out at one of its
interminable stops. John's town seems a really small
place: there's a few run-down shops around a market
square and not much else. It's fucking quiet! It's
in a fold of hills - can see green everywhere!
I had to ask a couple of the local yokels where John's
address was, but it was only a few minutes walk.
Actually in that one-horse town there wasn't anywhere
more than a few minutes walk from anywhere else. It
was a pretty standard council house - better than my
mom and dad's poky flat, with a garden that was well
kept.
So I go in, and they're really pleased to see me.
They're both in their early sixties, and John's mom
tells me he's her youngest. She's worried sick about
him, as ever since his bird Carol told him she'd
married someone else, he's stayed up in his room. He
won't come out, he's not been eating, and she hears
him crying in his sleep. She's got his three elder
brothers in to try to get him to come out, but they
haven't been able to do anything.
So I go up to his room... And it's still like a little
boy's room - model aeroplanes on the window ledge,
pop posters on the wall. John is lying face down on
the bed, and I can see he's in pyjamas! Those
flannelette pyjamas with stripes on them, for Christ's
sake! No young bloke wears pyjamas now, let alone
pyjamas like those.
I sit down on the bed and shake his shoulder.
"Wotcha, mate! What's all this then?"
"Steve.... Go away. Leave me alone. It's all over
for me, as Carol's married another bloke whilst we
were in the Gulf. I knew we shouldn't have gone."
"Fucking hell, mate: there are plenty of birds
around.... Just get out there and look. Come on back
to Lonmdon with me, and you'll be shagging again in no
time."
"No, Carol's special. She's the only one for me. I
was saving myself for her. I only want her. I don't
want to be fucking everything around, like you do."
"Look, Steve. Believe me - I've known more women than
you've had hot dinners. She's not special - all
women are alike: they lead a bloke on, and promise
heaven for his cock. But all they want really is his
money. I've known lots of guys like you who can't
wait to get married, then find that once they've had a
kid and are trapped, all their old ladies want to do
is sit and watch the telly all evening. All that fun
they used to have in bed is soon forgotten. Believe
me, mate, you're better off out of it
"So come on, snap out of it! Get out of those stupid
pyjamas, and take me for a drink in this town - I see
there is a pub, and I suppose it does open at dinner
time!"
"Fuck off, Steve. Leave me alone...."
"You're my best mate, and I'm not going to leave you
like this. I'm not going back to London without you,
and as a first step I'm nor even going downstairs
without you. So fucking get yourself together, and
get up!"
As I said that, I pulled of the bedclothes, and
slapped him on his arse as I did to wake him when we
were sharing a flat.
"Get your lazy arse out of that bed, matey! We've got
things to do. I need you to come back with me to Gulf
- I can't go by myself, as I can't sort out the
paperwork. I was wondering how I was going to manage
with you married down here, and so this is a bloody
miracle. We're going for a pint, then we're going
back to London, then we're going back to the Gulf so
that I can earn enough for a flat of my own."
There's no reply, so I slap him again.
"John, I'll drag you out of that fucking bed if you
don't get up - now, move."
Amazingly, because I had no idea what to do next if he
hadn't, he does! He stands up, and goes off to the
bathroom. I sit on the bed, waiting. Having got up
out of it, I'm dammed if he's going to get back into
it.
He comes back, and he looks half way respectable. He
hasn't had a bath, but he has shaved.
"Come on, get dressed - you're going to show me this
town of yours you were always going on about when we
were in London and the Gulf."
He just stands there in his stupid pyjamas , and I
realise he wants me out of the room.
"Don't be a silly bastard, John. I've seen you there
in all your medals lots of times before... Fucking get
dressed, will you, and stop keeping me waiting!"
So he does. Unlike when we were two blokes living
together when we just used to hang our shirts over the
bath to dry and didn't worry about creases, here all
his shirts, and even his boxers, are neatly ironed!
You wouldn't catch my mom doing that for me after I'd
left school.
We go downstairs, and his mom and dad look ecstatic.
His mom starts to rabbit on, but I'm worried that
she'll say something to break the mood John is in of
doing what I tell him as usual, so I cut in and say
"John's going to show me the town. He used to bore me
silly with all his talk of it, so now I'm going to see
it with my own eyes."
So we go out, but of course it's dead boring. There's
fuck all there, except for the scrubby shops and the
countryside. But there is a boozer, his old local,
and at lunchtime we're the only customers.
I pour three pints of the local brew into him - he
never drank his full whack usually, just sat and
watched the rest of us, but this time I made him match
me. When we're on our fourth, I say
"Right then. So what's all this fucking nonsense
about your bird? You've got your mom and dad
worrying themselves into the grave over you."
So he starts to tell me, with lots of hesitations and
false starts, that when he gets back he goes round to
Carol's on the first night and finds she's not at
home. Her parents are all shifty, and say she's moved
out, and only give him her new address when he really
demands it. So he goes around there, and finds it's
one of the new boxes on the private estate that they'd
planned to buy together. Only she's about eight months
gone! And there's this bloke with her, who says he
works in the local bank, and is her husband.
He's almost embarrassed and ashamed as this story as
it comes out, and he keeps looking down at his glass -
he won't look at me directly as he usually does.
"The worse thing is, Steve, that she must have been
going with this bloke before we went to the Gulf....
During the week, when I was in London"
"But didn't you know she'd been having it away with
this bank clerk? Couldn't you tell, when you got her
knickers down?"
He's squirming with embarrassment now, and I
deliberately say nothing so that he has to answer me.
"Well, Steve. Well, you see.... You see I never
actually did it with Carol. She was my girl friend
ever since school. It never seemed right...."
I break the tension by laughing.
"You really are a one, John! Almost got the girl to
the alter, and you'd never even shagged!"
"Well, we were saving ourselves for each other."
"You mean you were saving yourself. That's why you
turned down all those birds I was always pointing out
to you. She wasn't saving herself for you.... She was
fucking away like a ferret with Mr Bank Clerk! You
really have been made a fool of, mate."
"Anyway", I go on, "Put it all down to experience.
Come back to London with me. We've got enough to buy
a nice two bedroomed flat together, and you can start
catching up for lost time - you can fuck every night
until your balls are blue, and as you seem determined
to get married, I'm certain one or other of the tarts
we know will soon get herself in the Club...."
"She's spent the money, Steve. I haven't got any
left."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I used to send it home every week, so she could
save it. And she says she's spent it all on the
house."
"You chump! Well, we'll just go around there tonight
and get it back for you. So what's next?"
So he takes me off for a walk in the country - he
really likes it, but I think it's dead boring. Then
we go back to his mom and dad's, and they're really
relieved to see us. His dad is talking to John, and
his mom motions for me to go into the kitchen and
she's almost crying - "You've bought John back to us".
So I tell her that I think he'll survive. But that he
needs to get away - he can't stay festering down there
in Dorset. And I tell her that we're going back to
London at least, if not to the Gulf again. But that
I'll take care of him, just as I have before.
I think she wants to have a little weep, so she shoos
me out of the kitchen as she says she's got to get the
meal on the table. And when it does come, it's
amazing - a proper meat and two veg, followed by
apple pie and custard. It's not like anything I've
ever had from my mom. And we all sit around the table
to eat - not just eat it off our knees as we do in our
place. And his mom and dad and John all talk, all the
time. Not actually about anything, really. But
John's dad talks about his garden, his mom tells him
what the neighbours have been doing, all that sort of
stupid stuff that I suppose you get in a small town.
At about seven o'clock I get up, and tell John it's
time we went around to see Carol about his money. He
doesn't want to come, but I make him, as I say I can
hardly do it for him, can I? And without the money,
we can't get back together as we did before.
We walk around to the house, and it's one of those
tiny boxes that are on the outskirts of every town in
the country - one room and a kitchen downstairs, one
tiny bedroom and a supposed "second bedroom" upstairs.
Tiny garden, and big garage. This was John's dream,
so I don't say anything - we're all different, after
all.
I ring the bell and this smug bastard of a husband
comes to the door. John just stands there, so I tell
him that we've come to see his wife about repaying
John's money.
"She's got nothing to say", he tells us. "The money
was a present to her, and she's chosen to spend it on
our matrimonial home. She's resting now, as our baby
is due in under two weeks, and I don't want her
disturbed."
Fucking prick using phrases like "matrimonial home"!
The slut has cheated John, and he deserves better than
that and I tell him his wife's a two-timing cow and
that we want our money. He tells us that it's all
spent on the house - and surely John wouldn't want
Carol's baby to be homeless?
I'm all for carrying on arguing there on the step, and
I can see the neighbours looking from behind their net
curtains. But John tugs at me and tells me to come
away.
We go back to the boozer, and have four pints each.
John's going on about how he doesn't mind - he's loved
Carol all that time, and he doesn't care if she keeps
his money.
Well, it's his choice. But I wouldn't let a tart get
away with anything like that with me. And what about
that smug bastard of a husband, who's cheated you,
too, I ask him.
Anyway, we're pretty tanked up by this time so we go
back to the house, ring the bell, and when the husband
pokes his head out of the door we pull him into the
road and give him a good seeing to! We both punch him
a bit, but I then see a side of John I've never seen
before - he's always the mild, placid one. But now he
really goes at the husband, punching away and the guy
is totally unable to defend himself (remember, John
actually works for a living, and the husband's only a
bank clerk). He's soon down on the road, and John
starts kicking him. When he's just aimed a
particularly vicious one directly into the guy's
crotch, and is starting on the ribs again, I get a bit
worried: John will kill the guy, he's in such a rage.
So like a good mate, I pull him off - and he almost
turns on me! Have you ever tried to deal with anyone
in a complete, mindless, out of control rage? Once
they start lashing out, it's almost as if they don't
even know who they are hitting. But I calm him down,
and we run off, leaving the man groaning and vomiting
in the road. If you ask me, that kick of John's into
his goolies will mean that he won't be fathering
another kid with the lovely Carol.
I never get to actually see this woman that's been
John's passion all these years, as she doesn't even
come out to see what's happened, unlike all the
neighbours!
As he calms down, John starts to worry about the
police. But I tell him that it's unlikely the bloke
will call them in: if he does, they'll prosecute us,
sure, but then the whole story will come out. And he
won't want everyone to know that their bank clerk has
actually connived at cheating John out of his money.
By the time we get back to his mom and dad's, John has
cheered up a lot, and actually kisses his mom as he
goes in. I think she's a bit concerned about the
beery breath we're both pumping out, but his dad
tells me that they're really glad to see John "happy"
again.
Of course I've missed the last train back to London,
so I've got to stay. John and his mom and dad fuss
around, worrying about whether I'll be comfortable on
the settee, or whether John should sleep on it and I
should have his bed. I can't see what all the fuss is
about - it's a double bed in his room, after all. So
I say that I could sleep with John.
His dad says "Yes, that's best. I used to do that
with my old army mates during national service
sometimes if we had a weekend pass. You just put a
pillow down the centre of the bed."
And his mom fusses on about the fact that I haven't
got anything with me, so she'll find me some of John's
pyjamas "They're all freshly washed and ironed of
course", she says as if to reassure me, and not
knowing that I'd rather be dead than be seen in those
awful flannelette things.
We go up to his room, and I go of to the bathroom to
pee. When I get in to the bedroom, John's in his
pyjamas, and is holding out a set for me. I take them
off him, and he goes off to the bathroom.
I strip off, and get into the bed naked, which is the
way I always sleep. When John comes back he starts
fussing around with the pillow like his dad was going
on about - so I tell him not to be such a wimp, and to
get into bed.
"But first", I say, "Take those fucking silly pyjamas
off. Real men don't wear pyjamas. Real men sleep
naked."
He goes to argue, but he can see that I'm naked, and
he doesn't argue with me. The old John is back now,
as he always wants to do what I do, and do what I say.
So he slowly unbuttons the jacket and takes it off,
then starts to get in."
"John, naked means without the trousers!", I have to
remind him.
So we're then both naked, a "respectable" distance
apart. And we start to talk about the day and
everything that's happened. I tell him about the
problem of finding work, and that without his money
we'd have to find another rented flat in London -
unless we want to go back to the Gulf again and save
up once more.
He seems quite keen, so I start to talk about the
fight. I remind him of how we saw our slave "3"
fighting that first time, and I tell him I though John
was actually better tonight.
"After all", I say "3 was trained to fight, whereas
you just took that guy out when you've never raised
your fists at anyone before."
Just thinking about the fight of 3 and the marine has
given me a hard on, and I can tell by the shape of the
bedclothes that John's got one too. I don't know what
makes me do it, but I do something now I've never done
before, not to John, not to anyone - I reach over and
feel his hard cock.
You could have blown me down with a feather because
the next moment I feel John's hand around my cock, too
- and he's usually such a quiet one!
Well, once you've got your hand on a cock there's only
one think you do, isn't there? So I start to jack him
off. And he's doing the same to me. It feels amazing
to actually be doing this to another guy, and we both
cum, very quickly.
John starts to worry that his mom will see the semen
on the sheets when she does the weekly wash, but I
tell him not to think about it - she's had John and
his four brothers in the house, after all, and it
can't be the first time an "accident" will have
happened.
But he's still restless, and I tell him to roll over
on his side and go to sleep. I roll over too, and
"spoon" into the back of him. It's a long time since
I felt naked flesh pressed against me, and it's almost
like snuggling up next to a bird - until I reach my
arm out over his body, and instead of having a nice
soft tit to fondle feel John's hairy chest.
But It's obviously OK for John, as he seems much
calmer and I can tell from the rise and fall of his
chest that he's breathing deeply and has gone to
sleep.
I wake up with my usual morning erection, and as I lie
there in that half sleeping half waking state, wonder
why it feels better than usual. It's because it's
nestling in John's crack, of course, that warm, moist
area between his muscular arse cheeks. I'm not
touching his arse hole or anything, it's just that
lying with my erect cock wedged between his cheeks
feels - well - feels right. My right arm is over his
body and my hand is on his hairy belly, so I move it
down and feel that John is erect, too, although he's
obviously still asleep.
So I start to wank him, and it's amazing to be doing
this to the guy without him knowing it consciously.
At some level it is getting through, as he's gently
thrusting at me, and making little sighs and moans in
his sleep. When he finally does cum, there's a huge
load shot and I do try to catch most of it because of
his mom - but lying like that, you can't do much.
I then wake him up, and tell him that it's my turn for
a bit of fun, and pull his hand down onto my erect
cock. But now he says it's not right and that we
shouldn't be doing things like this. I'm going to
argue with him, but he gets up and goes off to the
bathroom.
I follow him after a few minutes, and see he's in the
bath. So I stand there and piss, and he's looking at
me in amazement.
"Come on, John, hurry up out of that bath", I tell
him. "I want one too."
"OK, Steve, I'll be with you in a minute. Just go
back to bed..."
"No, come on! Get out now! You don't even need to
run a fresh bath, as I'll use your water. You haven't
pissed into it, have you?"
The poor guy looks really worried as he stands up - I
can't imagine why, as I've seen him naked lots of
times before. And we have been wanking each other,
after all. And his eyes look like saucers as I get
into the water he's just got out of - why not, after
all. You swim in swimming pools where other people's
bodies have been, so why not bathe in their bath
water?
I go back to our bedroom with just a little towel
around my waist, and John has already dressed. He's
got a pile of his clothes - all neatly laundered and
ironed - for me to choose from, and I see him watching
me as I let the towel fall and then stand there naked
as I choose which of his shirts I'm going to put on.
I'm standing there with my cock poking out from
underneath the shirt, and I ask him for some boxers.
"You're not going to wear my underwear are you,
Steve?"
"Yes, why not?"
"Well... Well... I don't know. It's just that I
always thought that underpants were sort of personal."
"Look, John, you know what we did last night. You
can't get more personal than that! So stop being a
silly prat and give me a pair of those boxers before
my bollocks freeze, will you?"
Actually, it does feel a bit strange putting another
guy's underwear on - I don't know why, really ,as it's
all perfectly clean.
We go down and his mom has a huge breakfast for us -
bacon, sausage, tomato, egg, beans, toast, the lot.
After we've eaten, I tell John we ought to go back to
the Gulf to rebuild his stash of money, and he agrees.
So we phone the agency, and they tell us they'll post
the application forms to us at John's.
So then there's nothing to do all day. John is still
worried about the police, but I tell him that if they
didn't come for us during the night, it isn't going to
happen now. The only thing in this town apart from
the boozer is the swimming pool, so we decide to go.
I had to borrow John's old swimming trunks from when
he was at school - they were the standard black Speedo
briefs most schools use, but of course John was
smaller then so on me they were really tiny. We swam
for almost two hours, because we'd got used to doing
this in the Gulf on our day off, and as usual we raced
each other: it's almost the only thing John can beat
me at, as he's a bit more muscular than I am, and if
you do lots of lengths, that strength ultimately
tells.
Afterwards, in the showers, we saw how tanned we were
compared with the other guys there, although our
colour was highlighted by the stark white bands around
our asses and cocks. England is a funny place - at
least half the guys in the showers kept their swimming
shorts on as they soaped themselves down to get rid of
the chlorine from their skin. And it wasn't just the
old fat guys who did this - even reasonable looking
young guys of about our age did. We saw them looking
at our totally naked bodies, but who cares?
When we got home the post had delivered the
application forms - this remote Dorset place wasn't so
remote that first class mail from London couldn't get
here the net day. So we filled them in, and went down
to the Post Office to fax them off, before mailing the
originals as well.
The rest of the day was much the same - nice cooked
meal, a few pints in the boozer, then back to John's
mom and dads where we again slept naked and wanked
each other before going to sleep.
We'd only just had our breakfast the next morning when
the phone rang - it was the employment agency, to say
that there weren't any jobs going in the capital, but
they were looking for electricians who were prepared
to undertake a long-term assignment at a "remote
palace in the desert, where the Sheikh had decided to
totally renew all the electrics". We asked a few more
questions, and guessed that it must be the same place
where we'd renewed the ceiling lights and discovered
the pleasures of slave riding.
The agency told us that because there was no
entertainment, and no other expats around to socialise
with, the pay was even higher than usual and in
addition there was free accommodation, flights, etc.
We didn't even have to think for very long - John and
I both said "yes" and the agency rang back later that
day to say we could have flights on Monday - and it
was now Friday.
This was a bit sooner than we had expected, and John's
mom was really tearful when we told his parents -
they'd got used to having him around again, and now we
were going to be away for a year. She started fussing
about not being able to get all his washing and
ironing done in time, but I told her - and John - not
to bother much: after all, it was hot there and we
normally only wore shorts and Ts for work.
John wanted to take a couple of suitcases of stuff,
but after I had made him justify everything to me, and
throw out a lot of stuff, it was down to one (the lad
wanted to take 10 pairs of boxers, when we never wore
underwear there anyway, and eight long-sleeved
shirts... I ask you!). For my part, I phoned my mom
and told her to give all my stuff to a charity shop,
or sell it. I knew that when I came back I'd want to
buy all new clothes and stuff as the fashions would
all have changed.
That weekend John insisted I go for a long walk with
him in the country, so he could really show me where
he had grown up. Actually, it's not that bad - once
you get used to the grass and stuff, it is better than
walking around in London (if you like walking, that
is).
But the real purpose of his walk turned out to be a
really secluded cove, surrounded by a couple of
headlands, that you could only get to by walking miles
as there was no road access. We went down to a little
beach and it was so hot, and we were so sweaty, that
we decided to go for a swim.
We stripped off, and ran across the sand and plunged
in: it was cold at first, but actually the sea was
quite warm at this time of year. We swam and swam,
and it felt great - it really is good to swim naked,
rather than all cramped up in swimming shorts, as the
feeling of the water ploughing over your cock and
balls is really nice.
We went and lay on the hot sand, and my prick, which
had shrivelled up in the cold sea, started to recover.
The next minute John's hand is on it, and he's
starting to wank me, without so much as a by your
leave. He seems to be losing that shyness he's always
had!
When I came he'd not been watching what he was doing,
because my cum shot up all over my stomach and chest.
I told him he was a clumsy git, and we had to run
into the sea again so he could wash me. As we ran out
and back across the sand to lie in the hot sun again,
it occurred to me that we were experiencing the way
that most of the Sheikh's slaves lived - as I ran
across the sand, I was very conscious of the way that
my cock bobbed up and down and my balls jerked - when
you're running normally, after all, it's all supported
inside your clothes. And being totally naked with
John was just the same as the way the slaves were with
each other.
To show there were no hard feelings about him wanking
me without asking, I leaned over and did the same to
him. But I made sure that when I felt him starting to
spurt I could push his cock to the side, so he shot
onto the sand and not over himself.
On the Monday morning his mom was really tearful, and
his dad looked as if he might spring a few tears, too.
She took me to one side, and told me what a good
influence I was on John - he'd always been so shy and
not all that bright, but now he seemed to be getting a
lot more confident. And she knew I was looking out
for him, so she wasn't so worried about him going off
to a foreign country. She said, and it sticks in my
memory, "It's as if you've done something to him
that's made him wake up."
We got the train to Woking, then the bus to Heathrow,
and then everything was perfect - first class lounge
where we had a refreshing glass of champagne, then
flights in first class. At the airport we were
whisked through customs and immigration, and out into
one of the Sheikh's big limos. We noticed that apart
from his smartly peaked cap the chauffeur was totally
naked - it can't have been all that comfortable for
him as you could tell his naked body was sticking to
the leather seats.
After the three hour drive across the desert waste we
arrive at the palace, and the same foreman greets us
as before. We have the same big room, with two
double beds, and the drawers are stuffed with Ts and
shorts as they were before
In spite of the air conditioning in our room and the
car, we're both sweaty. John throws off all his
clothes and goes into the shower room, and I follow a
moment later. The two shower slaves are in there too,
as before, and after they have soaped us and washed us
thoroughly, kneel down and start to suck us off. I
look in the mirror, and the sight of John and me being
sucked off by two naked slaves is somehow, well,
erotic. I'm a bit surprised by this feeling, as I
don't really think a guy should find the sigh of other
naked guys sexy.
John doesn't get dressed after the shower, and lounges
around our room naked. I was going to put shorts and
a T on, but think that if he can disport himself like
that, why shouldn't I? It's a lot of fun somehow to
be totally relaxed with your best mate naked like
that, and we don't even feel funny when the naked
waiters bring our dinner in.
I turn in early, as we have an early start the
following morning and I want to make a good
impression. Just as I've turned over and am about to
go to sleep, I feel John get in beside me and the next
minute he's "spooning" me.
"You don't mind me sleeping with you, do you Steve?",
he whispers. "We did at home, and I'm a bit lonely
tonight on this first night in our new place."
As usual, I have to think about what's best for him,
so I just push him away, roll him over a bit, so I can
spoon up to him instead of him doing it to me. I
shuffle around a bit so that I can get my cock lodged
in his arse crack, and it does feel good to be close
to him like that. I don't bother to reply - I can
tell he knows I don't mind.
The following morning I wake up with a bloody great
erection sticking up between us, and the next minute
he's rolled over and is wanking me. So I start to
wank him. We've thrown the bedclothes off so we can
see each other's cocks as they're jerked backwards and
forwards, and the next minute the door opens and the
bloody naked waiters come in with our breakfasts!
Fucking hell, they're seeing us two stark naked,
wanking each other. I go to stop and think about
pulling the sheets over us or something, then think
"Why?". The waiters are only slaves after all, and
we're masters - we can do what we like in front of
slaves!
It's really good to lie with your best mate and eat
breakfast, when you've just wanked each other. I
suppose that's why men like to join the forces, as in
the barracks this must go on all the time.
We get up and dress, and go down to meet the foreman,
who shows us the first job - replacing the power
supplies to the kitchens. It's a huge job, and we
tell him we're going to need help - some of the
"walking step ladders", like we had last time.
So he says we can go off and pick them, and we go
outside and get into his "pony trap". It's only a
light cart, really but we can see four huge naked
black men in leather harnesses standing between the
shafts. The foreman picks up a small whip, and aims
it at the naked bums of the slaves, and we set off at
a cracking pace.
These blacks really have to run fast - if they show
any sign of flagging the foreman "encourages" them
with a crack across their backs or bums. He says that
it's not a proper whipping - they know that they'll
get that if they really don't perform. This light
cart whip is just to "encourage" them in their
efforts.
We stop at a field, and there's a gang of 20 naked
slaves working away. They're all doing something like
hoeing weeds, and there's only one guard - the slaves
are all chained together to collars around their
necks, and so it's easy for him to supervise them all.
The foreman gets the guards to make them stop, and we
walk up and down inspecting them.
They're all "average" guys, about like John and me,
nicely muscled and there's all body and hair colours
to choose from. They're all branded, of course, and
they've all had their pubic hair trimmed in the way
that we know the Sheikh insists on for his stock.
The foreman suggests we choose one of them as a
general "fetcher and carrier and odd job man", but
John and I don't think we need this. We really need
height, as we have to be able to get up into the
palace ceilings easily.
Further down the field we can see two teams of big
slaves pulling ploughs, six in a team. These are all
the tall, heavily muscled types we're after, so we
walk down the field to inspect them. They're all
really straining, and you can see it's really hard
work by the way their muscles have to flex to drag the
plough through the dry soil. Each team has a naked
slave guiding the plough, and a guard with a whip who
is constantly "encouraging" them in their efforts.
Perhaps I'd better get one of these light whips to
"encourage" our slaves, I think.
I then see that the second team has the slave "403"
in it that we used before so I tell the foreman I'll
have him, as he's already trained. Actually, I like
him, somehow - it can't be his personality, as I
really didn't speak to him. Must be his body - but it
can't be, as I don't like bloke's bodies.
The other slaves are all quite like him in size and
shape, so I simply pick another one and we set off
back across the field. I can see 403 is kind of
shaking, and he looks as if he wants to say something
but dare not do so.
Suddenly, he says "Master..."
The foreman at once picks up the whip and really lays
into him across his back and bum. The slave doesn't
even try to defend himself, just stands there and
takes it. But I can tell it must be hurting.
When the foreman has finished, he just goes to walk
off, but the slave again starts "Master..."
The foreman is furious, and goes to start whipping the
slave again, telling us that slaves are not allowed to
speak unless spoken to. I wonder what he's got to
say, though, as it's obviously important to him - I'd
seen him tremble, and then risk being whipped a second
time.
So I stop the foreman, and gesture to indicate the
slave can speak.
"Master... Master.... Could you take slave 806
instead of this other slave?"
I can't see any difference between them, so I just say
"No."
The slave then does something quite extraordinary. He
falls to his knees in the dirt, and starts to kiss my
work boots, wrapping his arms around my legs.
He looks up and says "Please, master. I've always
looked after 806. Without me he'll get into trouble
on the ploughing team. Please take him as well. Or
if you can only take one of us, take him rather than
me. I know you're a kind considerate master, and you
could make 806 work well...."
I think of John, and how I look out for him, and it
seems that this slave is a bit like me. So I say "OK"
- after all one slave's as good as another. So I
dismiss the other slave and he goes back to join the
ploughing team, and the foreman calls to the guard to
send 806 over to us. The slave 403 looks deliriously
happy, and is looking at me as if I'm some sort of
god!
403 and 806 are told by the foreman to run behind us,
and we get back into the cart. As the four blacks
pull us along at their fast pace, I turn around and
see the two slaves really straining to keep up with
us. Their magnificent bodies are sweating and you can
tell that it's a real problem for them - although
they're both obviously very fit, and they're both big
tall guys, the blacks are trained "ponies" who do
nothing else but run like this. And, I suspect,
they've been specially selected for this work as they
all have magnificent long legs.
Back at palace we don't waste any time and start work
immediately. John and I have to tell them every
little thing at first - it's almost as if they've been
brought up not to take even the tiniest decision for
themselves. But we soon find it's really good to have
such strong labourers to do all the hard work for us -
you know, the stuff like shifting the heavy spools of
new cable, tearing down unwanted partition walls,
drilling new holes for cable runs through concrete
floors, and all that type of thing. John and I can
just concentrate on doing proper electricians' work.
And of course whenever we need to reach up, we can
command the slaves to kneel, sit on their shoulders,
then get lifted up to do the work really easily.
Unfortunately in a way the air conditioning in this
part of the palace is working and it's not in our way
so I can't have it turned off. So it's not hot enough
that I can justify taking off my T and shorts. So I
have to ride the slave with a layer of cotton between
my arse and his shoulders - when we were here before I
did actually think it was better to be completely
naked, as I don't really like the way that the shorts
get soggy from our sweat. But I remembered that to
get proper control you do have to dig the ribs of the
slave with your toes and heels, so as he kneels prior
to my mounting him, I now always get 403 to unlace and
take off my work boots, and pull my socks off.
Somehow it feels god to be able to command the slave
to do this for me, rather than having to bend down to
do it myself. And he doesn't seem to mind the smell
of my sweat-soaked socks at all.
Our work goes well for the next couple of weeks, and
we make excellent progress. John continues to come
into my bed every night, even though he seems to have
got over being home sick! And of course as you do
when you have two naked horny guys in the same bed
together, we fall into the habit of wanking each
other, rather than just lying there and wanking
ourselves. It's also good to be able to have instant
relief from the shower slaves when we get back from
work - they really do know how to excite a cock and
tease you to cum.
We lose 403 for an hour one morning a week when he's
off to the breeding sheds, and two afternoons a week
we lose him totally, as he has to go off for his
special fight training. It's not a problem for me, as
I simply tell John that I'm going to use "his" slave.
Looking at 403 when he comes back, muscles all puffed
up and covered in a sweat from his workout, I can't
believe that I have absolute control of all that
muscle power. Indeed, if anything, 403 is even more
of a slave than he was before: he is totally servile
and dog-like in his devotion to me, because I picked
806. And 806 is happy, too - he adores John.
This slavery thing has also had a huge effect on John,
and he has continued to come on in leaps and bounds.
He commands 806 so confidently it's as if he has
always done it - perhaps that's what he needed, total
power over another man.
One morning John tells me to go on ahead to work, and
says he'll catch up. He won't say why, and I'm a bit
intrigued because even though he has got a lot more
independent, he's still not one to take initiatives.
When he gets in about two hours later, he just picks
up work as usual, and won't tell me where he's been or
what he's been doing. I'm in for a surprise,
apparently! It had better be a fucking good one.
I still haven't found out what it is when we get back
to our room that night and go into the shower. The
water comes on as usual, but no slaves appear.
John comes in for his shower, too, but still no
slaves. Then he tells me what he's been doing: the
water and the summoning of the slaves is controlled by
an IR sensor in the shower, he says. So that morning
he traced the connections and cut out the call to the
slaves, although the water works as usual.
"You stupid fucker, John", I say. "Who's going to
wash us then? And I know you like them blowing you as
much as I do...."
I don't get a chance to continue because he has taken
the soap and is now starting to soap me down, running
his hands all over me. He hands me the soap, and I
realise he wants me to do the same to him. As we run
our hands over each other, I decide it's much better
to be doing this with your mate rather than with
slaves - it's nice to be touching and feeling him like
this. And John seems totally uninhibited - he washes
my hair, soaps his hand and runs it down my arse
crack, and even washes my cock and balls - he's so
gentle. I realise I need to do the same to him - we
are equals, after all - and I find I actually like the
sensation as I slide my soapy fingers down his crack.
There's only one thing missing that the slaves do, but
as we stand under the water and wash away the last
traces of soap, John does that, too! After looking
directly into my eyes for a few seconds, he drops to
his knees and takes my prick into his mouth! He
starts to suck and lick at it, and I get a hard on.
He's got his hands around my bum and is kissing,
sucking and caressing my cock with his tongue, and I
realise he's going to blow me.
But this isn't right! No! I'm not queer! A bit of
wanking's one thing - lot of blokes do that with each
other. But having your mate put your cock in his
mouth is disgusting. It's OK for slaves to do it, but
not your mate! So I push him away, and even as I do
so I think this is illogical somehow - if your mate
wants to blow you, why shouldn't he - it's not as if
it hurts you to be sucked off by a guy after all? If
it pleases him, why not? But it's too late, and John
has gone out of the shower room.
We hardly speak to each other for the rest of the
evening. Just stuff like "Want the TV news?"
"If you do it's all right by me", and we don't have
our usual happy interchanges, and don't talk about the
programmes with each other.
When we get to go to bed John is still sulking. I
think he's going to get into his own bed, but he still
gets into mine. But instead of lying on his back so
we can start to wank each other, he turns over and
moves to the side of the bed so we're bum to bum.
I miss him wanking me, and can't get off to sleep. I
start to wank myself, and then think I can hear him
listening to me doing it and thinking he's won some
sort of victory. Well, I can show him! So I get out
of bed, pull on a pair of shorts, and go down to the
"pleasure rooms". If he wants to sulk, I can show him
that it isn't going to affect me!
I've never been inside the pleasure rooms before,
although we've both looked at the selection displayed
on the in-house TV, and I'm not sure what to do. I'm
greeted by a rather superior slave, who asks me if I
want to "eat here or take away?" Well, that isn't the
way he put it exactly, but it is a bit like going to
an Indian restaurant and having a huge variety of
things to choose from!
I finally pick a big olive-skinned slave with a nice
pelt of dark hair down his front (although his back is
smooth), and a very big cock. We go off down to a
simply-furnished room with a shower, wash basin and
bed in it, and the slave waits obediently.
I realise I have to command him to do something, so I
drop my shorts, sit on the edge of the bed, then tell
him to kneel down and suck me off. He is, as you'd
expect, an expert. It's clear he can hold me almost
at the point of coming for as long as I like, just by
slackening his pace a little, but I tell him to get it
over with and I fill his mouth almost immediately
with my spunk.
He cleans my cock thoroughly with his tongue, and asks
me if he would like him to wash me in the shower. But
I just pull my shorts back on and go back through the
palace up to our room. I get in beside John, who I
can tell is awake, and just ignore him. That's taught
John a lesson!
The next morning, we work, mostly in silence. I can
see the slaves are worried, as normally John and I
keep up a stream of banter and chat. I suppose
they're wondering if they've done something wrong, to
annoy both of us.
At lunchtime, without even asking me, John commands
403 - my 403 normally - to kneel and make a seat for
him. Before he sits on the slave's naked back, he
drops his shorts - that's unusual, because he's
normally a bit modest. Then, with me watching in
astonishment, he commands 8006 to come over and suck
him off!
806 looks as if he's in heaven..... It's obvious that
he's wanted to do this for a long time for "his"
master! I can see 403 looking at me, pleadingly.
But there's no way I'm going to have a work slave blow
me - it's one thing to have shower slaves and pleasure
room slaves do it for you, but not a slave who works
with you every day!
That night, back in our room, when it's time to shower
neither John or I is willing to let the other be
first. So as usual we go in together. We stand
there, each trying to shower without touching the
other.
I look at John and say "Replace the fucking wiring,
will you.... Get those slaves back in here! A man
needs a bit of relief when he gets back from work.
And whilst you're at it, sleep in your own fucking bed
tonight - I don't want your mouth around my cock in
the shower, and I don't want your bum shoving up
against mine in bed."
John's really upset - I think he realises he's carried
things a bit too far. So he says
"Look... I'm sorry, Steve... I only did it because I
thought you'd like it. You're such a good mate to me,
I thought you'd want to do everything with me, rather
than with those impersonal slaves...."
The big lummox! You can't really be angry with such
devotion, can you? So I put my arm around his
shoulder, push him over towards the bed and then
gently down on it, and we lie there and wank other.
When we've eaten, I tell him we're going out: we
ought to do different things together. So I take him
down to the pleasure rooms, but John won't pick a
slave from all those lined up. I take the olive
skinned one again, but John still won't choose, and
won't let me choose for him either. Then he whispers
that he wants to watch me and the slave together!
But in the private room, with John watching I just
can't get it up however much the slave tries. I
didn't have that problem the night before, so it's not
the slave's fault: I guess I'm not used to being
watched! John then starts to get upset because he
thinks it's him that's spoiled it for me, but I tell
him I'm just tired.
I don't want the evening to be a total wash out, so I
go back to the slave at the entrance and ask what we
can do. The answer is, effectively, anything I like
with the slaves here. Whilst they're primarily for
sex, it I'd be more turned on by whipping the slaves,
he tells me, there is a specialised fully-equipped
whipping chamber as part of the complex. But instead
I select four of the slaves, and for the next couple
of hours John and I amuse ourselves by commanding them
do re-enact scenes from the porno movies we've been
watching - it's a big laugh!
The next day we're close to finishing and I want to
carry on and work late - you know how it is, a couple
of hours when you're close to finishing will save you
half a day the next day when you have to pick up and
remember where you got to. So we work on, and John
and I are still there when the guards come to take
them off to be locked up for the night.
I tell them I'm using the slaves, and they should be
left, and a few minutes later the guards reappear with
the slave's "supper"... 4 biscuits for each of them,
in a bowl. We stop work so that 403 and 806 can eat,
and I'm astonished at the way they devour the biscuits
- they're gone in an instant. We used to have a
Labrador that eat like that - you only had to put food
in front of her and it was gone in an instant.
I ask 403 if he's always that hungry, and he tells me
yes - it turns out that the standard rations are
designed to keep the slaves just exactly balanced
between "enough" and "starvation". And when they've
been working really hard, they get really hungry.
I call the guards back, and tell them to fetch me two
more biscuits. When they've gone, I give 403 and 806
one more each. I can't believe 403's reaction: he
falls to the floor on his knees in front of me, and
kisses the fingers of my hand that fed him, each in
turn.
We work on, and it's really late when we finish, as,
like there usually is, there's an unexpected snag at
the last minute. I call the guards to take 403 and
806 away, but they say it's not now possible. The
slaves are still sleeping with the field gangs, and
they have all been locked up for hours and the guards
at the slave barracks have all gone off duty until the
morning.
The guards start to chain up our slaves to one of the
pillars holding up the roof, and say they can simply
sleep there, as they're only slaves. But it doesn't
look very comfortable, and I tell the guards that the
slaves can come back to our room with us.
"Suit yourself", the guard says and give me a sort of
leering wink. "Here's the chains and shackles for
them - even though they won't try to escape, the
Sheikh's standing orders are that all slaves must be
secured over night. And, sir, they may come in handy
if you like to play those little games with them, if
you know what I mean."
I can see the guard thinks I just want the slaves for
sex, and he thinks I'm into bondage games! So I tell
him to mind his manners, and he apologises and tells
me that he's sure there will be shackling points in
our room - there are almost everywhere in the Palace.
We lead 3 and 6 off through the palace back to our
room, and tell the slaves to go in and shower as
they're covered in dirt from the days work, to say
nothing of their sweat. John and I strip and go in
too, so all four of us are naked in there. The slaves
don't know how to take being in the shower with their
naked masters - having us sit on them is clearly one
thing, but being in the shower with us is another! I
tell them to relax, we're just blokes together.
Well, actually that's not so. It isn't like being in
the showers after a gym session in London, as this
shower is much smaller and we're all touching each
other. I decide this is a good time to really feel
3's muscles, and of course I have good reason to: a
responsible master occasionally checks his laves for
"damage".
I've never really felt his body before in so much
detail, and it's very exciting to have it under my
hands. I go on to inspect 6, too, then decide I want
to compare them. So I have them stand close together,
then put both their cocks together in the palm of my
hand. I can feel both of the flanges of their cock
heads in my sweaty palm, and they're both getting
harder and harder as we just stand there. Fucking
hell! What is this? I'm not supposed to get a thrill
from feeling blokes' cocks
After the shower 3 and 6 can't believe the room - I
don't think that being outdoor work gang slaves they
have ever seen carpet before. And they look at the
beds in wonder. There's a little trap door let into
the carpet between the two beds, and I'd always
thought it concealed more power points. But when I
open it up I see it's a big stout loop of steel,
obviously shackling point. So I put cuffs on each of
their ankles, and attach them by a short chain and
padlock to the loop.
I wake up n the middle of the night, and just know
that John is awake, too. We can hear all these little
noises, sort of like flesh on flesh. We look over and
see that 6 is fucking 3 - and I always thought that 3
was the dominant one! It must have given John ideas,
because he pulled me towards him and started to wank
me, without even asking!
In the morning we eat our breakfast and they crunch
their biscuits, then it's of to work as usual, just as
if nothing has happened.
Later that day I talk to the foreman and tell him that
we've got several late nights lined up. We don't want
the slaves sleeping in our room all the time, and so
can't something be done about making sure they can
always get back to the slave barracks, however late it
is?
He suggests instead that we move to a room with
inbuilt slave quarters, then they could be with us all
the time, and we would have complete flexibility with
working hours but complete privacy if we wanted it.
That sounded like an excellent idea, so after work he
shows John and me to a different corridor where the
room doors are further apart. Inside the outer door
there's a little lobby, with two doors - one leads
into a normal bedroom, just as we have now, and the
other into a room that is totally bare. Three walls
are plastered, but the fourth seems to have bars in
front of the plaster. But we find out why - in "our"
room panels of the wall can be pushed back to reveal
the bars, so that if we want we can look into the
slave quarters.
It seems an excellent idea, but the space we have
seems a bit smaller than we're used to. John then
suggests that as we don't really need it, one of the
double beds could be moved out to give us a bit of
breathing space! When I tell the foreman this he
grins, and says
"Oh, I always thought you were a bit more than just
mates!"
I feel myself blushing, as I'd never thought of myself
like that. But I could see how people might get he
wrong idea about John and me
He then shows us some of the facilities of the slave
part of the room - we can turn the light on and off,
there's a built-in shower head that we control from
our side, one of the standard water dispensers, and,
of course, in the corner, a crap hole.
"You can leave the slaves locked in here for long
periods", the foreman tells us. "In fact, why don't
you leave them in here tomorrow, Friday, and we three
will go out together?"
But I think that's a bit cruel, so instead I suggest
instead that the slaves are taken to the gym and
thoroughly worked out - I don't want them to lose that
superb muscle tone, and I'm concerned that we just
don't work them hard enough.
The following morning the foreman calls for us in a
pony trap. It's only a small one, and we have to
squeeze together quite a lot to get in. Instead of
the four big tall blacks, who have apparently already
gone out, our trap is pulled by only three slaves:
they're a bit Russian-looking, only about 5'10", and
all near-identical blondes.
The foreman takes us on a tour of the estate to "show
us the sites", and says that it doesn't matter about
the ponies: the blacks were for speed, but these
three are tough little work horses who can trot all
day if necessary provided we don't want a flat-out
gallop from them. They are indeed Russians, and the
foreman says they're becoming quite popular not just
because of their colouring, as there are lots of
blondes, but because they do seem to have more stamina
than other white races.
Actually the estate is quite boring. Nothing but
fields under cultivation, with here and there gangs of
naked slaves doing something or other to the soil or
the crops. But at one point we come across a solitary
naked slave standing there "pumping" - he's chained to
a treadmill that's turning a pump, and he's stolidly
pushing up and down as the water spurts out into the
adjacent field. There's something a bit unusual about
this slave, though: unlike every other slave on the
Sheikh's estate, this one has long shaggy hair and a
scraggly beard!
I ask the foreman about this and he reigns in our
ponies and stops our cart. "
"Oh yes, that's one of the 'sights'. He's that Marine
who was enslaved last time you were here. In spite of
being 'ringed', he didn't adjust. He had constant
punishment, and many, many savage whippings. The
trainers just couldn't break him!"
"You know", he went on, "It's not always successful to
enslave Marines. If you're going to enslave men, you
need ordinary men, without 'trained' bodies. You have
to be able to break them with a reasonable amount of
physical pain. We couldn't break this one without
killing him, and that would probably have been the
best thing to do, really. But the Sheikh hates waste.
And, to a certain extent, if you whip a slave so hard
to break him that it kills him, the slave could be
said to have 'won'."
We stop to look more closely, and the foreman goes on
to tell us that the slave has to pump so many thousand
litres a day, else he's not fed. Otherwise he's not
touched at all. He's never able to move more than
four feet or so from the spot, and to be able to pump
enough water he has to work at it about 16 hours a
day, eight with his legs on the treadmill, and eight
with his arms on a big wheel at the other side. It
seems the slave is stubbornly determined to stay
alive, and hence he works!
Taking a closer look at him we see there's a really
tough look in his eyes. He has magnificent muscles on
his wiry, compact body. And it's so strange to see a
slave with hairy balls!
We get out and I go over and run my hands down the
slave's back as he stands there stolidly pumping away.
I can feel scars everywhere, and as I move lower to
his muscular arse and thighs, they're there too. The
slave starts to shout at me to fucking leave him
alone, but the foreman warns him to be silent else his
food will be withheld. And, as the foreman reminds
him
"No food, and you won't be able to work. If you don't
work, you won't be fed....."
The slave shuts u, but I can tell from the way he is
standing that he hates me for inspecting him in this
way.
When I go around the front I see that his cock is
sticking right out! He has a big gold band at the
root of his cock, around his cock and the top of his
ball sack., It's about an inch wide, so his cock is
made to jut out from his body - he's permanently
semi-erect. And he has big rings, about two inches in
diameter, in his nipples. They flop up and down as he
pounds away: it must be agony!
The foreman tells me as we drive away that the nipple
rings usually calm down unruly slaves as their
constant motion reminds the slave of his status every
time he moves. And, of course, an Overseer can very
conveniently deliver a punishment just by pulling on
them. This slave has been "banded" around the cock,
too, as a mark of his difficult nature. But none of
this worked.
That night I left John watching TV - there's a good
porno movie on, and I tell him not to get any ideas as
he's only allowed to wank me and nothing more!
I go down to the stables, and check out a light,
one-man chariot. The pony is a tall young guy, who
can't be more than 22 or 23. The stable master says
he's been selected for speed - I'm not going far, am
I, as the slave does not have a great deal of stamina
but is good for a couple of quick sprints. Another
pony can of course be harnessed... But I tell him I'm
in a hurry and not going far, so the current one will
be satisfactory.
As we go out of the yard, I flick the carriage whip
lightly onto his bum, and the boy almost starts to
fly! Using the reins I pull his head from side to
side and guide him towards the pump, where the marine
is still working away in the moonlight.
"Stop pumping for a minute, and listen to me", I
shout. And, reluctantly, I think, he does.
I move around in front of him and can't help looking a
his cock stuck out like that. I say
"I need an assistant... I've got a lot of technical
work coming up, and it's too difficult to train 'bred'
slaves."
"Fuck off!"
"Suit yourself. But how long are you going to last?
This will kill you, sooner or later... And absolutely
no possibility of escape. You owe it to yourself to
maximise chances of escape, and to keep alive.. As my
slave, you'd do that."
"You may be right, I suppose..."
"But I'm not going to have surly disobedience from
you. If I get you out of this, you've got to behave
like a proper slave. You can do whatever you like to
try to plot and plan your escape, although I
understand you risk death if it fails. But the rest
of the time you've got to behave 'properly', as a
slave does. So no arguing with my orders, no
hesitancy, no disobedience of any kind - total
submission to me, your master, as any slave would. Do
you agree?"
"OK, we've got a deal."
"No, slave. We do not have a 'deal'. Slaves and
masters don't deal. Masters command, and slaves obey.
Now, do you want to be my slave, working for me?"
"Yes", quietly, with his head down a bit, as if in
shame.
"Fuck you, Marine, or should I say Slave 397!" (I'd
read his number, branded across his upper chest).
"You haven't learned... I said you were to behave as a
slave, and you have not answered me as a slave should.
A slave should be happy to serve a master, always
answers respectfully, and always addresses a master as
'master'. I've a good mind to leave you here until
you work yourself into exhaustion. Last chance,
397...."
"Yes.... Master."
"Good! One more test, to make sure you have
understood the lesson. I want you to give me the kiss
of subservience and obedience."
"Master....", hesitantly, "I don't know what that is."
"When a master acquires a new slave, the new slave
shows he worships his master's cock by kissing its
head, reverentially."
I could see the ex-Marine fighting something within
himself. I felt sure I'd get another "Fuck you", and
would have to leave him there to his fate. But I
think the logic of my arguments had got through to
him, because after a moment or two he said, although
it was almost in a whisper, not the crisp replies a
slave usually gives....
"I understand, Master...."
"Kneel, then."
It felt amazing to have this big powerful piece of man
meat, a trained killer, kneel in the dirt in front of
me. I took a couple of steps forward and thrust my
hips forward a bit. I could see the ex-Marine
fighting within himself still, as he reached up with
his filthy hands, pushed the leg of my shorts gently
up my thigh and exposed my cock.
I said nothing, and continued to look. His hands were
trembling as he continued to hold my shorts leg up and
moved his head towards me. It was disgusting, really,
to see his long shaggy hair - all slaves here are of
course normally smooth - as his bowed head moved
towards me. And it was only a token kiss - his lips
barely brushed my cock head. But I decided to let it
go - he was making remarkable progress in his
obedience training."
He leaned back, and I could see the guy was almost
crying with the stress he was under.
"Good, 397. I shall call you 7 from now on. Carry
on working as usual, and tomorrow I will arrange for
you to be picked up, cleaned like a proper slave, and
brought to the site."
I turned and leapt into the pony cart. I felt great -
I was going to dominate this ex-Marine where all the
so-called experienced masters had failed. I would
break him, and show them that English lads could teach
Arabs a thing or two about controlling men! I loved
the feel of the cooler night air on me as the pony
slave pulled me along, and wanted more, so I whipped
him, and then again and again, until I sensed from the
way he no longer reacted that he was going absolutely
flat out. But just to make sure, I kept lashing at
his arse so that he didn't flag.
When we got back to the stables, the lad collapsed,
and lay on the ground with his chest heaving and the
breath rasping in and out of him. The stable lads
came out and helped him to his feet, and I could see
that there was blood streaming from the places where I
had perhaps been just a touch too enthusiastic in my
urging of him to go faster. The stable master then
appeared, and I was worried for a moment that he was
going to tell me off for harming the slave, but
instead he just said
"You are obviously a skilled master, sir. Too many of
the masters who take out these livery ponies treat
them too gently: it takes a real master to appreciate
how to drive them to their limits, so they are totally
exhausted when they get back here. And the less
experienced riders never draw blood - it does the
ponies good to be reminded of their position every now
and again with a proper thrashing."
I felt like a million dollars! This was the first
time I'd controlled a pony, and I was considered to be
an excellent driver.
I was in such a good mood when I got back to our room
that I tossed the slaves a biscuit (I'd had a small
supply placed in our room, as "treats" for them as you
would for a dog or any pet animal) . But only one, as
it is of course vital not to over feed them, as you
don't want their bodies losing that superb chiselled
look that only comes when there's absolutely no fat in
evidence. So 3 had to bite it in half, and it was
touching to see how they looked at the two bits to
decide which was slightly the larger, and then argue
as 3 insisted that 6 have it. He was still "looking
out" for 6.
John was almost asleep when I got in beside him, but I
slapped him on the arse and told him to get wanking -
I really needed relief after all the night's
excitement.
We had been working away for a couple of hours the
next day when the guards arrived with our new slave,
7. John gasped when he saw the man - now, with his
hair cut short and his genital area having received
the slave's standard trim, he looked amazing - the way
his cock was stuck out in front of him as a result of
the wide ring meant that you couldn't help look at
him. And as he walked towards us, his naked feet
slapping on the marble floor, you could see the two
giant nipple rings bouncing up and down. When we'd
first arrived at the palace we had thought that it was
humiliating for slaves to have to go naked - but this
was an entirely different level of humiliation.
John and I were working in the ceiling again, riding 6
and 3. So we used 7 to "fetch and carry" for us,
bringing tools when we needed them, or carrying the
end of a new cable from one of us to the other. The
ex-marine wanted his commands in English, but I knew
that as part of his training - however unsuccessful
that might have been - he would have been taught
Aralish. I was determined that he would be treated as
a slave, exactly like 3 and 6, so I always commanded
him in Aralish and refused to speak English to him.
Whenever he showed any signs of failing to obey the
Aralish, I'd simply invent additional work, so that he
was kept constantly running between John and me. It
was quite funny, actually, to see his cock sticking
out as it did. And a lot of the time he was
hopelessly erect. I thought it was a bit of a laugh,
actually, to have him do all this unnecessary stuff
just because of his stubborn pride.
But he didn't tire as much as I wanted, and he still
was not completely subservient, and still was
reluctant to obey Aralish commands. So I thought of a
new humiliation for him - I started to use him as a
walking tool box.
Usually I carry all my commonly used tools in a
leather workmen's belt around my waist, but it does
get a bit hot and sweaty sometimes, even in England.
I hit on the idea of using the slave 7 to hold my
special screwdrivers and wire-stripping pliers: I
simply dropped them down into his nipple ring - the
blade of the screwdrivers went through, but the
handles wouldn't. Then he had to walk along beside 3
as I sat astride him, and I called down for whatever
tool I needed. And when I had finished with them, I
would simply drop them on to the floor. Hew had to
bend down and retrieve them and put them back into his
nipple ring, keeping his body upright at all times so
that the others didn't fall out.
It was a real laugh to see him bobbing up and down -
really humiliating, and painful, too, because of the
weight of the tools (especially the pliers) pulling
down on his nipples.
You'd think the silly fucker would learn quite
quickly, wouldn't you, that it would be sensible to
obey orders correctly, and that I would then tire of
playing games with him. But no - he went on all
morning, with a generally surly disposition and
reluctance to do what he was told the first time. E
really had to be taught a further lesson.
So I got down from 3 and told 7 to take a roll of
insulating tape to John who was at the other end of
the room, still mounted on 6. He went to take it from
my hand, but instead I reached down and pushed it over
his cock, which was erect and so readily to hand!
Then I told him to run along, and to be sure to keep
excited as I didn't want the tape dropping off on to
the floor!
When he'd done that, he was my "tool box" again, but
now he was also my personal tape dispenser - he had to
stand there holding the roll on his cock for the rest
of the morning.
At lunchtime I told 6 and 7 form a "sofa" for John and
me as they have done before - we didn't do this much
as, frankly, sitting on the hot sweaty backs of the
slaves when our own arses were already hot and sticky
from working was not all that good: John and I
usually preferred to sit on the cool marble floor.
But 7 wasn't used to being used as a piece of
furniture, so I could further humiliate him by making
him kneel in front of us on hands and knees so we
could use his back as a table.
As we moved our food around on his back, I pointed out
the scarring to John from his whippings. I tell
John, knowing that 7 is listening, that the scarring
is permanent. Not only can the Sheikh not sell him
because of his brands, but most people in the palace
won't even use him as it is so unsightly.
I carried on humiliating him all afternoon, using him
as a tool box, and making him run up and down with a
roll of tape carried on his cock - I saw that he
particularly disliked this. And when I needed a
length of tape, I made him take a pair of pliers out
from his tit ring, unwind a length of tape from the
reel on his cock, cut it to length, and hand it up to
me.
That night we lodged all three slaves in their
quarters next to us. I deliberately leave the "doors"
open so we can watch them through bars. I say to John
in a loud voice that "It's so convenient to have this
new tape dispenser. We'll never lose the tape again
as we know it will always be around the slave's cock.
We'll use him that way every day."
7 completely "lost it", as I hoped he would, with my
taunting. He came to the bars, grabbed hold of them,
and started screaming
"You fuckers! I'm not a slave! I'm a man, like you!
If you were men, you'd help me get out of this hell
hole and not humiliate me...."
I went up to the bars and said, calmly and quietly, so
I contrasted with his furious raving
"You are a slave. Remember, I can have you sent back
to that pump, where you will certainly die sooner,
rather than later. But I'm not going to do that this
time - You have to be punished for this insolence and
I'm going to have a whipping instead."
"You fucker! You don't scare me! I've had more
whippings than I can remember. Marines don't break
under the whip!"
I thought about this, and realised I was in a
difficult situation - I could of course order him to
be flogged to within an inch of his life, or even to
death. But if he didn't break, he would then have he
upper hand. But, equally, I'd said I was going to
have a whipping, and I couldn't back down, for the
same reason.
I consulted the phone book, picked up the phone, and
within a couple of minutes one of the palace's
punishment squads came into the room. I whispered to
the guard captain who was in charge of the six men
quietly, then they went to the cage and unlocked it.
Four of them went it (any more than that and they
simply get in each other's way), and 7 backed into a
corner taking up a fighting stance.
But the guards understood my requirements, and ignored
7, took 6 by the arm, and led him out into the
bedroom, locking the cage now only holding 3 and 7
behind them. Without saying another word they pushed
6 against the bars of the cage so his back was towards
us and his front faced the astonished 3 and 7, spread
his arms apart so that his shoulders were protruding
nicely and cuffed his wrists above his head to the
bars of the cage, and spread his legs and similarly
cuffed his ankles.
"Now, 7, your punishment. You're going to have to
stand there in that cage, looking at 6 here, whilst he
takes your lashes. Every time you show me disrespect
in future, 6 will be whipped. You can explain your
attitude and actions to him and 3 later."
I told the guards to get started, but only to give 6
six lashes on that occasion.
It's actually pretty fearsome to see a man whipped for
real - not one of those mock whippings we'd seen over
and over in the porno flicks on the TV. There's a
sinister "swish" as the end of the whip flies through
the air, the "crack" as it strikes the flesh of the
slave, and then the immediate scream of pain that is
forced out from him, however hard he has tried to
suppress it. And I don't think "scream" is quite the
right word, as it implies fear: this sound comes from
deeper down in the body, and is a great shout of pure
anguish.
It was followed almost immediately by another cry - 3
had rushed up to the bars and was trying to comfort 6.
Then he turned, and simply flew at 7. It was like a
repeat of that fight we had seen them in all those
months ago - although then 3 had been fighting as the
Sheikh's champion, and was doing it as a
"professional". Now both men were fighting in
absolute fury - 3 had lost all control, and would, I'm
sure have killed 7 if he had not in turn been fighting
back with that same determination and ferocity we'd
seen before - I think all the suppressed rage and fury
was coming out of him as he laid in to 3 in turn.
I spoke to the guard captain, and the four trained
guards went back into the cell - rather them than me -
to break up the two fighters. They had to use their
cattle prods on the two naked slaves to break them up
and momentarily stun them, and then had them cuffed,
as I had instructed: they were stood back to back so
their bums were touching, then had each one's right
hand cuffed to the other's left, and vice versa.
The whip master then gave 6 the remaining five lashes,
and 3 and 7 could only stand there and watch -
although they struggled and jerked at each other, they
couldn't do each other any harm, cuffed as they were.
6 was uncuffed, and with streaks of blood coming off
his back was placed back into the cage. 3 wanted to
comfort his friend, but had no use of his arms.
I went up to the bars and stood looking at them. 7
started to shout again
"You fucker! You cunt! You..."
"Silence!" I snapped. "One more word, and 6 here will
get another six lashes. And another six, and another,
until you learn to behave properly and respectfully."
"Now I'm going to leave you three to think about what
has happened here. Goodnight!", and I walked over and
closed the doors separating the cage from our bedroom.
God, I was horny! I leaped onto John, and told him to
get wanking before I burst.
All through the night we could hear noises of shouting
and talking coming though the doors from the cage, and
John seemed very upset - I think he really didn't like
the whipping. But I hugged him to me, and told him
not to worry, as I was looking out for him as I always
did and knew what was best.
In the morning, I personally undid the cuffs holding 3
and 7. All three slaves looked subdued, and I had to
command them to kneel in front of me - even 3 forgot
his normal courtesy. They all clearly hadn't slept
much, and I was concerned about 6 and went to look at
his back - I was expecting to see a mass of dried
blood, but it was clean and scabs had formed nicely
over the six lines left by the whip.
"How...?" I started to ask.
It was 7 who cut across me - I thought about punishing
him again - "Master, your slaves 3 and I Iicked the
wounds of slave 6 so that he would recover quicker".
It was his prefacing the answer with "Master" that
saved him - perhaps my lessons were starting to bite
home.
They were all sullenly silent still when we started
work, but I knew that I had won a small victory: As I
sat on 3's muscled shoulders waiting to start work in
the ceiling again, 3 sort of shook his head at 7 in a
gesture. Blushing deeply, 7 picked up a roll of
insulating tape and stuck over his prick without being
commanded to by me. The slaves had obviously worked
something out between themselves!
That evening I kept the slaves' evening biscuits from
them, and we worked on. Normally I allowed 3 and 6 to
feed at 18:00 promptly, as it only meant stopping for
a few moments whilst they crunched down their meagre
rations of four slave biscuits. But tonight I made
them wait until they were all in their cage.
First I locked the door, then told them to shower, and
be quick about it. I made sure the water was icy cold
- that's one of the little refinements that's been
fitted to these master/slave combination rooms: the
water in the palace is never usually cold, only
lukewarm from the desert's heat, so slaves normally
shower in "raw" water that is not heated explicitly.
But in these master/slave rooms, you can mix cold into
the normal supply of hot water as you can in any
normal western hotel, and - here's the difference -
it's icy cold chilled water from the palace air
conditioning system.
The slaves all hated the icy water as it splashed over
them, but I insisted they all stood under it for five
minutes before turning it off. They all tried to
huddle together to stop the water causing them so many
problems, but even so by the time they had finished
they were all shivering and were all covered with
goose bumps. 3 and 6 rubbed each other's bodies to
try to get some warmth back, but even though they
offered to do this to 7, he stood aloof I noticed.
I then told them to kneel against the bars of our
room, and then fed them individually: I gave 3 and 6
each four of the large size slave bars, making them
take each one from my outstretched hand individually,
and lick my finger tips in reverence as they did so.
Then I went to give 7 four of the medium sized bars
(his smaller body mass did not warrant the full size
bars). After the first one, I told him to lick my
fingers but he just knelt there sullenly. When he
didn't lick them after the second one, I just said
"You're obviously not hungry tonight", and went and
fed 3 and 6 the two remaining biscuits. Then I simply
shut the doors of the cage, so John and I did not have
w to look at them again.
John was upset again by my treatment of 7, and said I
should at least have fed him, even if I made him get
cold.
"You know how little excess food they have", he said,
"So every bit is vital to them. The poor guy will not
be able to sleep tonight..."
"Good. If he's hungry, and deprived of sleep, he'll
perhaps be a bit more compliant tomorrow."
We spent the rest of the evening eating our meal and
watching a porno flick, but John seemed very silent.
When we were in bed and I as looking forward to a good
wank with him, he turned over so that he was facing
away from me! I "spooned" up against him, and went to
reach over his body to grab his cock, but I got a
muffled
"Fuck off, will you?" for my troubles.
I lay there for about an hour, but John didn't seem to
be coming around - why he was so upset about me giving
7 a lesson I can't imagine. But he wasn't going to
get the better of me, so I got up and made my way down
to the pleasure rooms again. Funny, without John
watching I could easily get it up and that big
olive-skinned slave I'd had before really does do a
fantastic job.
When I went back to the room I too turned around, so
that it was only our bums that made occasional contact
during the night.
The following morning I opened the doors to the cage
and again told the slaves to kneel as I was going to
give them breakfast individually, and again the same
thing happened - I fed 7 two of his ration, but
wouldn't give him the rest as he had not licked my
finger tips as a grateful slave should. Again, I
gave the biscuits to 3 and 6.
They almost got away with it! If I hadn't turned back
to shout at John as I was going into the bathroom, I
wouldn't have seen 3 and 6 each pop the biscuits out
of their mouths and give them to 7. Even though they
were soaked with the slaves' spit, 7 greedily stuffed
them into his mouth and crunched them up - I guess he
must have been desperately hungry. All three of them
continued to kneel there, 7 looking defiant, 6 looking
worried, and 3 looking bewildered, as if he didn't
quite know what he had done.
Work that day wasn't a barrel of laughs. 7 looked
almost defiant as he slipped a roll of insulating tape
over his prick. John wasn't really speaking to me
except for the absolute minimum to get the work done,
and both 3 and 6 seemed downcast somehow and 3 did not
have that "ever eager to please" look that means his
face is often smiling.
But that evening I was faced with open defiance from
all of them. As they knelt, shivering from their icy
shower that this time went on for eight minutes, I
told 7 he wasn't going to get any more than half
rations - two biscuits - unless he properly thanked
the hand that fed him. Surely, I thought, it's
humiliating enough to have to be hand-fed by your
master - what possible difference can licking his
fingers make? But he didn't, and after two biscuits I
told all three of them that the other two biscuits
were not going to 3 and 6 as they had that morning, as
they had greatly displeased me by thwarting my wishes
and giving the extra to 7.
I told them they could get up, and then I saw
something quite extraordinary - 3 went to kiss 7!
He'd never done that before, as 7 always pushed him
away, although he and 6 kissed frequently, and deeply.
Now 7 had his mouth locked on 3's, and they were
obviously deep tonguing each other! What had brought
about this amazing increase in comradeship, I
wondered?
Then I realised what had happened - 3 had the crunched
up remains of his last biscuit in his mouth, and was
sharing it with 7. Complete defiance of my wishes -
if not of my exact orders, as I had not forbidden them
to do this of course.
I hid my feelings, as it was important not to let 7
see that he had bested me, but was in a pretty foul
mood as I shut the cage doors. John knew this, but
said something fucking stupid like "Well, it's your
own fault....."
We didn't speak at all that evening, and if there had
been two beds in the room, I'd have kicked him out and
made him sleep in the other one. As it was, we just
lay there silently, each cross with the other. Those
slaves were coming between me and my best mate.
The next morning I told John to say nothing, whatever
I did. I was pissed off enough at him as it was, and I
told him that if he criticised me again for my
handling of the slaves, especially in front of them,
I'd find another room.
So he just stood there and watched as I fed 3 three
of his four biscuits, and made him open his mouth
after each one so I could ensure he had swallowed them
all. Then I gave him his fourth one, and as he was
crunching it, I said
"Feeding time's over for this morning. Those slaves
who did not get fed will have to wait until tonight,
unless 3 here wants to share anything with you!"
I could see 3's brain trying to cope with the dilemma
he now faced - he only had a little soggy biscuit
chewed up in his mouth, and he really needed that
himself - it was one of his fight training afternoons
that day. But 7 and his lover 6 had had none at all,
and by the evening they would be ravenous. He stood
there, and then went and basically "kissed" each of 6
and 7, transferring a little of the slave biscuit to
each. I noticed that 7 was relatively fastidious,
basically just taking the biscuit that was given to
him as 3's tongue pushed it out, but 6 ravenously
licked all around the inside of 3's mouth to clean out
the last traces of biscuit - but then, he was used to
having is tongue deep inside 3!
During the day I made sure that both slaves worked
hard: I insisted that John rode 6 all day, so he had
to cope with John's weight for protracted periods.
And I made sure that John and I were working at
opposite ends of the long entrance hall, so that 7
could be kept running backwards and forwards between
us carrying messages and tools.
When I came to give the slaves their meal that evening
I had another test up my sleeve: I fed 3 all four of
his biscuits and made him eat them down totally. Then
I gave him three biscuits and said "Here - you feed 6
and 7."
I could see him looking at the biscuits, and knowing
that there was not enough to feed one slave, let alone
two. And remember that they had not been properly fed
that morning either. It was pure torture for him -
yes, torture, that is what it was: not only was the
slave totally unused to make decisions of any kind,
but now he had a terrible dilemma. He had to choose
whether to almost starve his long-time lover, 6, and
totally starve 7. Or whether to half-starve both.
He looked as if he was going to cry as he gave each
slave one biscuit, then broke the other one in half
and gave half to each one. We all knew that one and a
half biscuits was not sufficient to feed the slaves
after a hard day's work - remember, they were kept
permanently lean anyway, so had no body fat reserve to
rely on.
To my annoyance I saw that 7 did not eat his biscuit
and a half, but went to give them to 6! I commanded 6
to hand them back to me, and all three slaves had to
watch as I threw the precious food into the waste bin
in the corner of our room.
Calling 7 to one side of the cage, I told him in a
quiet voice in English so that 3 and 6 should not
understand
"This is going to get you nowhere. All you have
succeeded in doing is hurting both slaves - 6 will go
very hungry tonight as your actions prevented him
being fed this morning and only getting quarter
rations tonight. And you may think that 3 is OK, but
look at the poor guy - he's torturing himself with
worry because he has to decide which of you will be
fed and which will starve whilst he remains
comfortable."
"So wise up, and start to think and behave like a
slave. You may choose to starve yourself by nobly
handing over your food, but it will not benefit the
others as you have seen. Your wilful disobedience to
my wishes has caused all this - even though they were
not express commands, you knew that you should be
properly grateful for being fed from my hands and show
this by kissing them. A proper slave would see what
his master wanted, and do it even though he would
prefer not to."
He stood there, looking at me with a mixture of hate
and resignation. I thought hat perhaps I was winning
again.
"Master..... "
"You dare to speak without being asked a question,
slave?"
"Master... I'm sorry. Sorry for speaking. But I
needed to beg you to do something for slave 6. I know
it is all my fault that he is suffering now, but you
can change that: please, master, feed 6."
"I said yesterday that I do not bargain with slaves,
7. But I am now going to set you a test. If I agree
to feed 6, will you agree to being fed as I want you
to be fed?"
"Master... Is this a trick? If I say 'yes', I have
bargained with you, and slaves must not do that. If I
say 'no', I am still being disobedient..."
"Very clever, 7. No - a simple question... If I feed
6 now, will you agree to consume nourishment yourself,
as I command?"
"Yes, Master. Please feed 6. He knows that your
displeasure is not his fault, but does not understand
what he can do to make you pleased with him. I know
he is very hungry, but, worse, he is confused. And,
as you said, 3 is deeply upset and worried. I do not
want my fellow slaves to suffer."
"Very well. But remember, 7, that I totally control
you slaves. If I feed 6 now and you subsequently
disobey me, understand that I will automatically,
without any further discussion and without any hope of
me changing my mind, starve both you and 6 for the
next 48 hours."
I went over to the box where I kept the supply of
additional biscuits as "treats", took out two, called
6 over, and allowed him to take them from my fingers
into his mouth. He had not heard or understood my
conversation with 7, so thought that whatever he had
done to displease me must now be all right. The poor
lad was almost crying.
"Now 7, for your meal. I think you're in need of pure
protein. So no biscuits for you... But you are
hungry, and I want you to have a couple of mouthfuls
of delicious pure man-milk. Go over and suck both 3
and 6 until they cum, and be sure to take every drop
down your throat - you can't afford to miss out on a
drop of nourishment!"
The look of pure hate that filled his eyes told me
that I had not yet won the battle to tame this slave,
but he did at least start to obey my order. He went
over and knelt in front of 3, took the slave's
enormous cock into his mouth, and started to suck.
I could tell that he was not an expert at this - there
was no way he could get 3's larger than average cock
into his mouth. And unlike our bath slaves or the one
who had serviced me so well in the pleasure rooms, he
did not seem to have a knack for doing anything to
particularly excite. So it took a long time for 3 to
cum, but I knew that when he did 7's mouth must have
been filled with cum because 3 was capable of
producing very large quantities.
7 was obviously not used to drinking cum, because as 3
shot he pulled away and was choking and gagging. I
made him lick up the cum which was spilled on to the
floor, then commanded a second performance, with 6.
As I shut the doors covering the bars of their cage, I
saw 3 and 6 lying together as usual, but 7 was sitting
against the wall on the far side, in that position of
abject misery I'd seen before - knees drawn up, and
head slumped down. He clearly felt totally humiliated
and degraded by being forced to drink slave cum in
this way, at my command, and whilst John and I
watched.
That night John continued his policy of an icy silence
towards me. And I was really pissed off - it was bad
enough having to cope with the slaves, without having
him playing up as well. So I didn't even think about
going to bed with him so that he could lie with his
back turned to me - as soon as I had eaten dinner I
went down to the pleasure room where the olive skinned
slave soon relieved some of my tensions.
When I went back to our room, John was pretending to
be asleep, so I just ignored him. And in the morning
I didn't even have to wake him up as I usually did -
he had been tossing and turning all night, and hadn't
slept much so that, unusually for him, he was awake
when I was.
I wasn't going to have this all day again, so I said
"Look, John, don't fuck me around, will you? It's bad
enough trying to get control of these slaves as it is,
and I need your support and help not your fucking
sullen dumb criticism!"
He didn't say anything, so I continued
"If you carry on like this I'm going to quit. I'll
work with you until the end of the contract, but one
of us can find another room. Then you can be alone
every night by yourself, not saying a word, as you
have been this week. So either change your attitude,
or change your mate. Now, which is it to be?"
He sat there quiet, then said
"Steve......."
"Yes?"
"Steve... You're the best mate I've ever had. In
London, on the site, it was fantastic. And the first
time we came to this country. But this time it all
seems to have gone wrong - I thought it was getting
better, with you and me wanking each other. I really
liked that. But the way you're treating those
slaves.... It upsets me."
"Don't be an even more stupid cunt than you usually
are, John! If I don't control these slaves, who will?
You?"
"No, Steve... It's just that....."
"Just nothing! Tell me what you'd do, or shut your
fucking mouth, change your attitude, and let me get on
with it!"
"Steve... I don't know."
The poor guy was trembling now, and I could see that
I'd gone too far. It wasn't fair to get John to have
to make choices and decisions, as it upset him. So I
calmed down a bit, changed my tone and went and stood
beside him and said
"Look, mate, it's for the slaves' own good! 3 and 6
were OK, they're used to being slaves. But that
ex-Marine, 7, isn't and his behaviour is upsetting the
others. He has to be taught to behave properly for
the good of all of them."
"Why don't we simply send him back, Steve? We don't
really need him on the site."
"Because, you stupid idiot, I was trying to save him.
You saw him chained to that pump - how long did you
think he would last? I thought that if we took him,
he would at least have a chance to live a bit longer.
And if he's going to work for us with the other
slaves, he's just got to learn to behave like a slave.
I'm determined to break his rebellious spirit and
tame him properly."
"Yes, but..."
"But nothing, John. We do it my way, or we don't do
it at all. Now - are we mates again, or are we going
our separate ways?"
"Steve.... Steve..... Are you sure you're right?"
"I'm always right. You know me, mate!"
"Well OK, then, I suppose so".
For the first time in days I saw him cheer up a bit.
He visibly straightened as some of the tensions in his
body seemed to drop out. I decided to press home my
advantage
"OK. Now I'm going to open the doors for the next
stage of the training: no interference, right? And
if I tell you to do something, you do it. OK?"
"Yes, Steve."
So I opened the doors, and fed 3 and 6 with their
daily ration of biscuits. I again made 7, with the
threat of punishing 6 held over him, suck 3 and 6 and
take their cum down. John and I had been standing
there watching, and I was hard - partially because I
hadn't relieved my morning hard-on, and partially
because it was quite erotic to see the trim, lithe
ex-marine on his knees sucking off the two giant studs
who towered over him.
I commanded 7 to kneel right up against the bars of
the cage, and to open his mouth.
"I'm going to be generous this morning, 7. You have
already had two good doses of man protein, but I'm
going to feed you some more."
As I spoke, I started to jack myself off, and I knew
it would only take a few strokes to bring me to
climax. As I felt it coming, I moved up to the bars
and as I shot I aimed my prick so that my cum flew
into 7's open mouth.
As he swallowed my load, he said nothing, but I could
tell from the look of pure hate in his eyes that he
knew just how humiliated he was, having to kneel there
and take it from me like that.
I looked at John, and said "Your turn now. This is
all the food 7 is going to get until tonight, so be
sure to give him a nice big helping."
I thought John might defy me, and saw that he was
struggling with himself. But he did do as I told him
- so perhaps we were almost back to normal - and went
up to the cage and started to wank. But I could tell
it wasn't easy for him, as he's usually one of those
guys who cums extremely quickly once he starts
stroking his meat, and now he just stood there
thrashing at it as if it was an inanimate sausage. I
could see sweat breaking out all down this naked back
with the effort he was making, and I even think he was
blushing. Well, I suppose if you can't cum it is a
bit demeaning - especially when you have two big buck
slaves watching who could cum almost without touching
themselves, and you've seen your best mate do it, too.
The poor guy needed a helping hand, so I went and
stood behind him and pushed my resting prick up
against his ass crack, and my chest into his back.
Then I reached around his body and put my hand on top
of his as he continued to jerk himself. I don't know
whether it was feeling my body against him again, or
having my hand on his prick again, but he quickly
shot. But if I hadn't been there and aimed his cock
properly at the last moment, he would have missed 7's
mouth! He always needs a bit of last minute advice
and encouragement, does John - I have to look after
him all the time.
As we walked along the miles of corridor in the palace
towards today's work - still replacing the main supply
cables to the kitchens complex - I could hear 7's guts
rumbling. He was obviously desperately hungry, as the
amount of nourishment in even four big loads of cum
just isn't enough to keep a man going. But all to the
good, I thought - I wanted him weakened for the next
stage of his re-education. So all day whenever there
was any really heavy work, like moving the heavy
cables from one place to the other, I commanded him to
do it and ordered 6 and 3 away if they tried to help.
His plight was made worse by another icy shower that
night, and as I stood looking through the bars at all
three slaves I said
"Before I feed any of you, Master John and I want a
bit of entertainment. We'd like to see slave 7 fucked
by slave 6."
7 lost it again, and started screaming at me about not
having a prick up his arse. He went to a corner of
the cage and took up the fighting stance, and I could
see 6 looking very worried. He didn't want to disobey
me, he knew that 7 was a trained fighter and he was
not, and, I suppose, he couldn't understand what he
problem was anyway - why wouldn't a slave have another
slave fuck him, after all? Remember, he was a farmed
slave, who had been introduced to sex at an early age
and who knew that it was perfectly natural for slaves
to enjoy each other totally.
I looked at 3 and said to him "I'm afraid that 6 might
get hurt here, as you know only too well what a
vicious fighter 7 is."
I changed my tone, and looking at all three of them
said "Well, then. I think before 6 fucks 7, we'd
better have 7's arse stretched a bit. You can go
first, 3."
3 was so relieved that I had "saved" 6 that he threw
himself on to 7. It was a repeat of that first fight
of theirs, except hat 3 was no longer the cool
professional, either. I think he knew that 7 would
have seriously hurt 6, and simply went at the guy in
his anger and frustration.
It wasn't much of a fight, actually, because of course
7 was much weakened by the lack of food and the icy
cold showers - his muscles were not warmed up properly
and he had had no time to exercise and stretch. I had
planned it this way as I didn't want either slave to
seriously incapacitate the other. I was glad when 3
soon had 7 pinned under him and started to fuck him,
remorselessly and hard, just as he had that first
time.
When he'd climaxed and had pulled out he stood there
with his cock covered in cum and 7's crap. 7 was
spread-eagle across the floor, arms and legs lying all
over the place - he was defeated, beaten.
"Right, 6, off you go!", I commanded.
6 went between 7's outstretched legs, knelt down, and
started to move his massive cock towards 7's arse.
"No, stop!", I commanded. "I think 7 ought to be able
to look at you."
I issued my commands to 3, and he went over to the
supine 7, and flipped him over from where he had been
lying belly-down, onto his back. Before 7 could react
further, 3 went behind him and knelt on his shoulders,
facing down 7's body - I didn't want 3 to straddle 7.
Then as I had instructed, 6 picked up 7's legs and
gave them to 3 to hold.
7's arse had come high into the air, and we could see
his shaved arse hole with 3's cum still dribbling out
of it.
"Right! Now go to it, 6", I snapped. "And I want to
see long, hard thrusts, going all the way in."
Now as we all know, it can be painful on occasions to
take a thick-cocked man up your arse when you're face
down. But face up and spread-legged, with your arse
raised in the air and your arse hole completely
exposed, it's another matter - the thruster can get
that last half inch or so into your arse, as it's more
readily accessible. And he can really slam into you,
so his pubic bone goes into that sensitive area
between your hole and your prick. I've now found that
being fucked on my back is always more painful than on
my face - and it isn't just the cock going into you,
it's the constant pounding that he can give you that
goes on hurting as he thrusts away.
7 was no exception, and as 6's big thick prick pounded
into him he started to gasp in time to it, the gasps
turning into little shouts as I commanded 6 to show
him no mercy and really fuck him hard.
7 could of course look up at 6's face as 6 fucked
away, and 6 could look down and see the look of
humiliation and pain on 7's. But what was worse for 7
was that 3 and 6 leaned forward and started to kiss
each other deeply as 6 fucked away - that made 3's
prick fall over 7's face, of course, as his body moved
forward.
6 came with a great shout, and he and 3 embraced and
kissed again. I could see tears - whether from pain,
or from humiliation and rage, I couldn't tell,
streaming down 7's face.
"OK slaves, we're off to work now", I said, and went
and unlocked their cage door.
I allowed 3 and 6 to wash the arse juice and shit off
their pricks in our bathroom, but I made sure that 7
would continue to be humiliated throughout the day by
not allowing him to wash - I didn't even allow him to
use any toilet tissue to wipe away the cum that was
now running down his thighs. He had to follow us
through the palace, exuding that unmistakable smell
that tells everyone that the slave has just been used
for sex.
That night I again restricted 7's feeding, and made
him shower in the icy cold water, but I didn't command
3 or 6 to fuck him again. I noticed that he still
slept apart from them, and, if anything, looked more
wretched than the day before.
John wanted to go to bed early and watch a film, but I
said "No, time for a change! I've got something
special lined up for you, John", and made him come
with me down to the pleasure rooms.
He looked really nervous when we went in, but I told
the chief honcho to bring out "my" olive-skinned lad.
"Right, John! You liked those bath slaves sucking you
off, and you like wanking with me - well, this is
going to be a new experience with you. Go off with
this lad and let him show you what being sucked is
like when you've got the chance to really lie down and
relax."
"No, Steve, I....."
"Yes you do! You didn't think you'd enjoy wanking
with your mate, did you? Well, trust me - you will
enjoy this, too. Now run along, and I'll see you back
here in about an hour."
"An hour... Steve.... "
"Yes, it will take that long. He's a real master at
it, and he can hold you on the edge for ages and ages.
He's the one I've been using, and I like him, so I
know you will."
With that, I sort of dismissed them both, and the
olive-skinned slave led a still-reluctant John off to
one of the private rooms.
Even I felt embarrassed next - I turned to the "master
of ceremonies" and said "Look, there's something....."
"Something master wants to do? Something strange and
exotic, something that requires a slave with
exceptional athletic ability, something......"
"No. Just something ordinary, really. It's just
that.....", and I stopped, because I've never been
used to talking about things like this.
"Sir, anything you want can be supplied here in the
pleasure rooms..."
"Well.... It's..... It's just that I want to fuck a
slave up the arse."
"But of course, sir. All masters do that."
"Yes... But..... ", I was really cringing now. "It's
just that I have never done it before, and I'm afraid
I'll do it wrong."
To his credit, the Overseer in charge of the pleasure
rooms obviously understood my predicament. He came
closer to me and lowered his voice to say,
conspiratorially
"Sir, occasionally we do get masters who need to learn
to control slaves fully when they have not done so.
It happens to Overseers, too, when we recruit them to
work in the Palace. It can indeed be difficult as a
mature man to start these things later in life, and
you are understandably concerned.... However we have
a whole range of gentle, fully compliant slaves who
you can practise on. And of course they will be
grateful for whatever a master does to them...."
"No, it's not that. I don't think I know enough about
it to be able to command a slave to do what I want
exactly. I don't want a passive slave just waiting
for me to make the running.... "
I was finding it difficult now to pick my words to
say exactly what I did want - I'm not used to even
thinking that I want any of this stuff, let alone
being able to say that I want it!
"What I really need is a slave who is able to take
control fully, and show me what to do."
"Ah, I see, sir. You ant a dominant slave, who will
fuck you...."
"NO! Absolutely not! I'm not going to be fucked by
anyone! I need a slave who will teach me how to fuck
him!" I was shouting now, and had quite forgot my
embarrassment at this whole thing.
"Of course, sir. Now I understand. We have a small
number of special slaves ,who are usually used when a
master wants his son to have 'lessons' in proper slave
fucking technique - however much a father loves his
son, he isn't necessarily the best teacher of these
things. It's difficult for the slaves, as they have
to almost forget that they are slaves. It's difficult
to teach them that, for some short periods, they must
take charge so that the master can fully enjoy
himself."
"So we have a very limited selection, I'm afraid." He
turned to his PC and called up a few images.
"There are three, basically. This 17-year old" - a
lithe, "lad" type, appeared.
"This nicely muscled 'swimmer', about your build and
age, I would say, sir"
"And this muscle stud." I saw a picture of a big, 6'6"
"rugger type".
He went on "Would you like to see any of their bodies
in close up, or shall I arrange for them to be paraded
in front of you, sir, so that you can choose?"
I was all in confusion again. I didn't think a
17-year old could really tell me what to do. And the
big muscle stud just looked too scary. On the other
hand, they were both slaves, and used to obeying
orders, and I was certain the training they had had
would make them satisfactory... Perhaps I should see
them all together.
But, no! Time was running out. I'd said an hour to
John, and I needed to get on with it. So I said "The
one like me, I think."
He pressed a couple of keys on the PC, looked at a
message on the screen, and said "Follow me then, sir."
As we walked along the corridor in the pleasure
rooms, I was more nervous than I can remember being
for years - it was just as if I was about to lose my
virginity again! I could feel my face all red and
hot, sweat was trickling down inside my loose T, and I
could feel little drops of it running over my ribs.
The Overseer opened a door, and I went into a
"conventional" western-style room that could have been
in any hotel anywhere.
There was a slave standing there, who was almost
exactly like me in appearance, as I had seen on the
screen. But immediately I found out a big difference
from other slaves.... Instead of just standing there,
waiting for my orders, as a slave normally would, he
came across the room towards me.
He was smiling broadly as he did so, stopped in front
of me, said "Hi.....", and then, before I had any time
at all to react, he reached out and hugged me, holding
my body close to his nakedness. Then he looked
straight at me and started to kiss me, wrapping a hand
behind my head to pull my mouth towards his. I was so
startled that my mouth opened as if by reflex, and
instantly I could feel his tongue probing at mine, and
stabbing into it.
Actually, it was a bit like kissing a bird - but a
thousand times better - most of them like you tonguing
them, even on a first date, but they don't want to
kiss you back. But this slave was... was.... well,
the only word I can think of to describe it is
"passionate."
He kissed me, and was running his spare hand up and
down my back, first on top of the T and then under it.
I felt his hand go down the back of my sweat shorts,
and cup my ass.
He adjusted the position of his legs, which were
intertwined with mine, to get more comfortable, and
then his hand was cupping my balls and feeling my
cock, outside my shorts.
It was absolutely amazing - I'd never had another
bloke treat me like this before.
He broke away from my mouth, stood back a pace, and
said
"Let's get those clothes off you, so I can see that
lovely body of yours completely....", and before I
could react, he as helping to push my T up over my
head, and then to push my shorts down.
We stepped away, so that I was out of the crumpled
shorts lying on the carpet, and he started to hug me
again. Our cocks were now pushed together, and I
could feel an amazing sensation all up my chest as he
slowly and sensuously moved himself against me and our
two treasure trails rubbed together.
He carried on kissing me, and I had responded now by
rubbing my hands all over his body, too, and feeling
his firm, tight arse and his generous ball sac. This
was completely different than the "inspections" I had
seen masters making of slaves in the slave market,
when their inspection of the slave's body is
altogether more clinical.
He pushed me gently backwards, so that we fell onto
the bed, and we continued to kiss and explore each
other's bodies. I had never realised how amazing a
complete mutual exploration of another man's flesh
could be, when you're both in the heat of sexual
passion, and we tossed and turned, rolling around the
bed so that one was first on top, and then the other.
I lost track of how long it went on for, but suddenly
he broke away and whispered in the ear that he had
just been licking
"Master, fuck me. Please, master, fuck me. I need to
feel you inside me. Please, master!"
It all seemed perfectly natural. He rolled over onto
his stomach, pressed his shoulders into the bed and
moved his arse a bit up into the air. It was as if I
knew instinctively what to do - I knelt between his
outstretched legs, and moved my erect prick in towards
him.
He reached around behind himself and pulled his arse
cheeks apart, so that I could see his lovely puckered
arse hole, freshly shaved and looking so inviting. I
touched the tip of my prick to it, and it was almost
like a bolt of electricity shooting through me - I
never thought a man's arse hole would be warm and feel
so inviting.
"Please, master. Please, master, would you like me to
lube myself first? I know we were both excited, but
master might enjoy me more if he could slide
easily...."
"Yes, slave, you're right. But quick about it!"
He'd pointed out to me that I hadn't lubed in quite a
nice way, really, and I was glad of this experienced
slave now. He was remarkably agile, and with a quick
flip of his body had rolled to the side of the bed,
pulled out a tube of K-Y, and was back next to me.
Laughing and smiling, he kissed me again whilst
reaching down and spreading the K-Y over my erect
prick - I almost came there and then, as it was so
erotic to have a guy do this to me whilst kissing me
passionately.
But another flip of his body, and he was lying down
again in front of me, reaching around and pushing the
K-Y up his hole whilst I watched. He was very quick
at it, and pushing his face down into the bed covers,
I heard him say in a muffled voice
"Now, master. Now. Please take me now, master. I
can't wait for you to be inside me, master.
Please...."
So I pushed my prick at him again, then realised I had
to push harder to get my cock head in through his
sphincter. As soon as it was in, I found I could
easily push it in much further, with very little
effort. The slave, head still muffled by the bed
covers, was going
"Yes, oh yes. That's good. Yes, Yes...."
As I thrust in and out of him I thought it was the
best sensation in my life - better ever than all those
birds. This is what men are meant to do to each
other, I knew now.
It was great to be able to vary my speed and my stroke
- sometimes going fast, sometimes infinitely slowly.
And sometimes just quick little "ins and outs" of an
inch or so, and sometimes pulling out until I felt the
flange of my cock head almost pop out, and then
thrusting back in to my whole length.
I just couldn't stop myself cumming - much too
quickly. I wanted it to go on for ever. And I
collapsed forward onto the slave's back, still inside
him whilst my cock started to subside. It was great
to feel his sweaty back on my sweaty chest.
"Thank you, master. Thank you... Thank you...." -the
slave seemed genuinely pleased. If he as faking it,
it was bloody good.
I pulled out of him, and he wriggled around so that he
was then lying on his back, with our chests together.
He reached out to kiss me again, and hugged me. Our
sweat-soaked bodies rubbed together, and I could feel
his erect cock nudging at my now flaccid one.
Then he gently pushed me off him, lay me down on my
back, and bent over me to clean up my cock! I
realised that he must have been very clean up his
arse, as there was no shit or anything on it - just
sweat and my spunk.
I was still panting, and my heart was still racing,
but I knew that John would be waiting for me so I went
and showered. The slave of course followed me into
the shower, and washed me so tenderly I started to get
erect all over again. Rubbing his body against mine,
hugging me, and kissing me as he helped me shower was
again one of the most fantastic things I have ever
experienced - why don't all men do that when they
shower together, I wondered, and thought of all the
time I had wasted in communal showers with lots of
guys around - we could have been having a ball.
Having another guy help you dress is also very
sensual, especially when he does totally intimate
things for you, like settling your balls gently into
your shorts - I didn't think that was the sort of
thing another guy could do for you, but he can!
We kissed a final goodbye, and I went out into the
hall. They say you always remember your first time,
and I would always remember this.
John had a big idiotic grin on his face - it almost
matched mine.
"Good time?", I asked him.
"Fan - fucking - tastic, Steve! Did you have that
slave when you came down here, and that's why you knew
he was so good?"
"Yes."
"And you gave him up to me? But why are you grinning
like the proverbial Cheshire cat? What new slave have
you had sucking at you?"
"That'll be for you to find out soon, John. Come on,
let's go back to bed as we have to start early in the
morning."
That night John actually snuggled up to me and was all
over me - he wanted us to wank each other, but I
wanted to lie there and have my body remember the
feeling of the slave. But I soon realised that John's
body felt good, too. So as he reached out to me again
and started to grope for my cock, I reached for his
head, held it, and kissed him.
He resisted at first, but then his mouth opened and I
pushed my tongue in. Soon, we were kissing
passionately, our tongues beating against each other
and our spit mingling.
We broke off, and John said in a small voice
"Steve.... I'm worried."
"Why?"
"Look, mate, you and I are here naked in this bed.
Well.. You know.... Well, wanking was one thing....."
"Yes?"
"Well... It's just that I suppose you can sleep with a
mate, as a lot of guys have to do that camping, if
they're in the army on manoeuvres, or if you've got
relatives staying at Christmas. And wanking another
guy is really only like wanking yourself, isn't it?"
"Of course it is, John."
"But kissing like that.... It isn't right, is it? I
mean, that's what gays do, isn't it? And you've
always told me that's totally wrong...."
"Look, John, how can anything that two best mates do
together be wrong? I didn't force you, did I? And
you're certainly not forcing me! So if we both want
to do it, and if we both enjoy it..... You did enjoy
it, didn't you?"
"Of course, you know I did, don't you?"
"Well then, how can it be wrong? "
I could sort of feel him tensing up, trying to think
of an answer, so to shut him up I kissed him again.
And as I was doing it, I felt down for his cock and
started to wank him.
I carried on kissing him for a bit, with my hand
gently stroking his cock, then broke off and moved
down his body. He tensed and arched his back when I
first kissed, and then nibbled at, his nipples, and he
was uttering little moans of pleasure. I let my
tongue run all down his stomach, and finally I kissed
the tip of his cock. He was moaning with pleasure by
now, so I decided to go the whole way.
I really didn't know if I would like a cock - even
John's cock - in my mouth. I'd pulled his foreskin
well back, and when I first pressed my lips to the
moist head, it felt sensuous and much warmer than I
thought. There was an interesting taste as I slipped
a couple of inches of his cock into my mouth,
experimentally. I now know that a lot of cocks have
that strange "animal" taste, if it isn't completely
overridden by bath oils and soap. It's something to
do with it lying against the powerful sweat glands
down there - and it's a real turn on. But I couldn't
bring myself to suck him off that first time -
instead, I sucked for a moment or so, then went back
to kiss his mouth passionately, whilst wanking him to
a giant climax now that his cock had been moistened by
my spit.
Usually when we wanked each other we used paper
tissues to catch the cum at the crucial moment, but
this time I was too busy and I felt his hot cum spurt
all over my body. Whilst still kissing him I rubbed
our bodies together, so that his cum made a slick
layer between us, allowing us to slip and slide over
each other. The scent of his cum came up to our noses
as we did this, and I was so aroused that the moment
his hand reached out and started to wank me, I cane,
too.
Later we just lay there, the cum drying on us and that
smell filling the room.
"Fucking hell, John! So how was that for you?"
"Steve, I.... I..... I don't know. It was... Well....
The best thing that has ever happened to me. You
really are a good mate to do that for me."
"Get to sleep, you sexy beast! We have to get those
slaves up early tomorrow as we have a lot of work
still to do in the kitchen block!"
The next morning I decided to move on to the next part
of my plan to tame 7. Firstly, I fed 3 and 6 with
their full ration. Then, as 7 knelt, expecting me to
feed him a load of my cum for breakfast, I instead
gave him four biscuits, noting that he properly now
licked my fingers in gratitude after each one. I was
of course naked whilst doing this, and was sporting my
morning erection, so I imagine hat he though that I
was going to jerk off into him.
He crunched up all four biscuits hungrily, and then,
to his astonishment, I gave him a fifth, but turned
away before he started to crunch it up. I was
pleased to see that a moment later he had taken the
spit-soaked biscuit out of his mouth, had bitten it in
half, and was offering a half to 3 and 6. This was, I
hoped, the first part of his proper "bonding" with
them, to make a team of slaves who were fully
integrated.
That afternoon I got John to take 6 and 7 continue to
work on our renovation of the wiring in the palace
kitchens, whilst I took 3 with me over to our store,
telling John that I needed the big slave to carry a
drum of cable back for us. In the store room, I
commanded 3 to kneel down on all fours, and press his
forehead to the floor. As he knelt there, I couldn't
help but admire his fantastic muscled arse - the
cheeks were straining as he knelt there, and I could
see the outline of his muscles stretching down into
his equally delightful thighs.
I dropped my work shorts, and my erection sprang
upwards. I knelt down in-between 3's legs, and pushed
my prick at his arse hole, which was invitingly pink
between his heavily tanned cheeks. I decided that I
would not fuck him totally dry, so I spat onto my
fingers then probed his hole to make the initial
centimetre or so a bit slick. I then spat on my
fingers again, and rubbed them all over my cock head -
I was so close to cumming already, that the touch of
my own fingers on my head was almost enough to make me
cum.
As I pushed at him, 3 gave out a little groan.
"Is there a problem, slave?"
"NO!, master. It's...."
"Yes, you may answer."
"Master has never fucked me before. Usually masters
do not fuck us draft slaves - masters only fuck the
slaves in the pleasure rooms. Us draft slaves usually
only fuck with our fellows."
"Well, I have decided that I want to try out your
hole. Your fellow slave 6 seems to enjoy it long and
hard, every night, after all."
I cut the conversation there and pushed in. He was
indeed a good fuck - even by my limited experience. I
suspect his years of practice had taught him how to
bring great pleasure to his fellows - he synchronised
the movement of his arse with my own thrusting, to my
greater enjoyment. He clenched his arse muscles to
grip my cock wonderfully firmly as I slid in and out.
And he obviously knew that his cries of pleasure would
contribute to the experience for me, as he made those
wonderfully erotic groaning noises from deep down in
his chest, in time with my thrusts.
But I came all too quickly, and allowed myself the
luxury of falling forwards onto 3's muscular back - I
could feel the sweat and the heat of him through my T.
I told him he could relax, and lie out full length,
and pushed my T up to my shoulders so I could enjoy to
the full the sensation of his back against my nips,
which were of course erect after my experience.
I lay there, feeling the pure animal sensation of
having another body breathing heavily as you lie on
top of it. But I knew it was time to go back to work,
so I reluctantly pulled my now flaccid cock out of him
and scrambled to my feet. Fortunately there was a
wash basin in the corner of the store room, so I could
wash the crap off my cock, then pulled my work shorts
back on.
"Come on, slave! On your feet!", I commanded, as 3
had continued to lie there. The big man got to his
feet, and I thought I saw a very strange look in his
eyes - a mixture of pleasure and puzzlement.
"Now, 3, I want to talk to you. Listen carefully to
what I'm going to say."
"I want you to be very nice to slave 7. Treat him as
you do 6. In other words, I want you to make sure he
lies with you at night. And I want you to have sex
with him, as you do with 6."
"To make sure you do this, I forbid you to have sex
with 6 until you have with 7. You may only wank 6
after you have wanked 7. You may only fuck 6 after
you have fucked 7. And you may not touch or kiss 6
until you have done the same thing to 7. Is all that
clear?"
"Yes, master. But...."
"BUT? Are you questioning my orders, slave?"
"No, master. It's just that 7 will not join in with 6
and me."
"Well, you'll have to try harder! And if you can't
have sex with 7, or with 6 because of my orders, I do
not want you sexing yourself, either. You may not
jerk yourself off - it must be 7 who does it for you,
do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, master".
"Good. Pick up that cable, and let's get back."
In our room that night I again fed 7 excess rations,
and he again, when he thought I hadn't been noticing,
tried to share them with 3 and 6. I was pleased to
see that he had to at least talk to them in this way.
Then it was time for their night time shower, and I
turned on the warm water to the shower head. 3 and 6
at once went under it and started to soap each other,
but when 3 saw me looking at him, he at once stopped
the enthusiastic soaping of 6's cock that he had been
doing. 7 just stood there, waiting for them to finish
as he knew I had been "punishing" him with the icy
water.
But instead I called out to him "Join you fellow
slaves, 7. Are you too proud to share a shower with
your comrades?"
He went over, and the other two made room for him
under the stream of water. There was of course very
little space for all three of them, and they had to be
intimate contact with each other under the water. 7
couldn't avoid rubbing and touching the others, and
they simply treated him as if he was one of them -
they soaped his back, and washed his hair for him. 7
looked a bit surprised - you'd have thought that
having been in the marines, he'd have been more used
to having showers with other naked guys than he was.
I shut the doors of the cage so that John and I were
private, then switched the TV to show the inside of
the cage from the concealed camera. 7 had as usual
gone to sit against the far wall, in his usual stance
of legs drawn up to his chin. But now 3 was sitting
beside him, and was trying to put his arms around the
smaller man. 7 at first shook 3 off, almost angrily,
but 3 persisted.
Later, I was pleased to see that they had persuaded 7
to lie with them - 3 and 6 were stretched out flat,
and 7 was half on them, to avoid the cooler floor.
Even though I now felt a lot more confident in my
ability to fuck, I decided not to start on my final
conquest of John that night, but we had another great
night of kissing and sucking each other before falling
into a deep sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.
We continued like this for another two days, and poor
3 was in a terrible state: we were used to seeing 7
with a semi-erection, and even with a full erection a
lot of the time, because of his cinch ring. 3 normally
was not erect whilst he was working, except for an odd
minute or two every now and then - all men get these
constant erections, as we know, but they usually go
away pretty quickly, and 3 was no exception as a rule.
But now he was almost continuously erect, and precum
was leaking all the time from his prick.
I fucked him each day, but I didn't allow him to cum,
and it was an added excitement to be able to see his
huge cock rampantly erect, hanging down between his
thighs, as I pounded away in his ass.
I felt I was now really experienced at fucking men,
and on day three 3 was off for his afternoon's fight
training so my regular "fuck slave" was not available.
So I took 6 off with me, leaving John and 7 to work,
I won't bore you with the details - but I practised
fucking 6 on his back, with him gripping his ankles
almost to his head to give me the maximum access to
his hole. He seemed to be even more grateful than 3
had been at this mark of my favour to him as a mere
draft slave.
That Friday John and I were by the pool, when
everything stopped - there was a failure of the main
breakers somewhere that drove the filtration plant and
the fountain that played at one end. Even though it
was our "day off", it needed fixing so I told John I'd
go and get one of our slaves to help us. When I got
to the slave exercise area, all three of them were
working away hard on the exercise machines, but I
brought 7 back with me, as I considered it more
important that 3 and 6 should keep their superlative
physical condition.
Back at the pool we started to work away, but it was
the regular time for John to phone home - he always
did this at the same time of Fridays, and if the phone
didn't ring out in Dorset then I knew that his mom and
dad would start to worry that "something had happened
to him". So I sent him off to phone, leaving me and 7
to work away.
It was easy to fix, really, and 7 looked as if he was
expecting me to send him back to the exercise room.
Instead, I said, casually, "Fancy a swim, then?"
I think he could hardly believe his ears!
"Swim?"
"Yes, it's a hot day, and there's no other master here
that would be offended by a slave swimming in our
pool. Get in there and swim if you want - but only as
serious exercise. I want to see you doing proper
lengths, fast: in fact, I'm a fair swimmer, and we'll
race. And no pissing - you slaves don't always have
the same standards about things like that!"
Without further command, probably expecting me to
change my mind, he leaped in and started to power up
and down the pool. I'm a pretty good swimmer myself,
but I wasn't sure I was as good as him - and certainly
I wasn't as fit. So I let him do fifteen lengths
before calling him to the end and telling him we were
going to race, best of four lengths.
I won, narrowly. I knew of course that it was only
because he had already been tiring, but, never the
less, the slave could see that it was indeed me who
had finished our four laps first.
We hauled ourselves out of the pool, and lay there on
the hot pavement breathing hard. If it hadn't been
for the fact that he was naked whereas I wore a tiny
swimming slip (to preserve the mark of a master, that
pure white area around the cock and on the arse), you
would have found it difficult to see the difference
between us - we were after all about the same age and
physical build. No - that's not right: anyone could
immediately tell that 7 was the slave because as we
lay on our bellies, the brand on his bum was clearly
visible. And when we turned over, you could see his
slave ID number on his chest.
As we lay there, we were both a bit drowsy - you know
how the hot sun does that to you after a swim. He
looked so comfortable and relaxed, that I decided this
was a good moment to start the next part of my plan.
In a quiet voice, I said "Have you noticed anything
different about 3 recently?"
"Well... Yes."
"What?"
"He doesn't seem as relaxed as he usually is.
Normally he's calm, and just gets on with things. Now
he seems all jumpy and edgy."
"Yes, he would. And I assume you've noticed that he's
constantly erect and dripping precum everywhere?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's all your fault, you know?"
I had overlooked his not using "master" in his replies
as I didn't want to disturb the atmosphere between us.
But now his tone was starting to turn - he would
probably need a sharp rebuke soon. But I continued
"Yes. You know I was punishing 6 for your
transgressions, as you would never break under a
whipping yourself. Well, you don't relate properly to
3 and 6, and I have told 3 that until you do, it's his
problem."
"Relate....?"
"Yes. I need my slaves to work together as a proper
team. And you're not doing that if 3 and 6 are
together all night, with you sitting sullenly on the
sidelines. You have to bond properly with them, and
that means you've got to get fucking with them."
"NEVER! That's one thing you can't make a slave do!
You may be able to have me forcibly masturbated, and
make me swallow cum, but you can't make me fuck
another slave. It's just not possible - if I can hold
off an erection, you can't make me go up another man's
hole!"
"You'll come around to seeing my point of view in
time, I'm sure. Meanwhile, it's 3 who is suffering,
and in turn 6 is getting unhappy. I've commanded 3
that he is not to have anyone else except you make him
cum: he's not allowed to touch his cock, or to let 6
touch it. Until then, he's going to go without - and
you've seen the result: erections, leaking precum,
frustration, unhappiness...."
"You bastard...."
"Careful, slave. Remember your station and show me
respect. You don't want to earn another whipping for
6, so you?"
"No, master...." (very reluctantly!).
"Well, then, I can't see what the problem is. 3 and
6 have already fucked you - it's taking a cock up your
arse that's normally the problem for a supposedly
straight guy. Once they've done that, I really can't
see why you'd be concerned about doing the same thing
in reverse."
"Master, I just can't fuck a man's arse...."
"Yes, you can. And you will, sooner or later. Now I
suggest you start gently - wank 3, or suck him: that
can't be too difficult, as you have already had many
mouthfuls of his cum. I think you'll find you like
the taste and texture of cock - I know I did, and I
used to think I was straight. Then, if you want, just
close your eyes and think of fucking a woman - anyway,
didn't you ever give it to any of your girlfriends up
the arse?"
"No...... Master."
"Well, be that as it may, think of 3 and 6. Try to be
nice to them this evening. Remember, just as much as
when I had 6 whipped instead of you, this punishment
of yours is really falling on 3 and 6."
That night I watched the three of them on the CCTV,
and thought that my message had got across - 7 wanked
3! Well it's a start, I suppose.
But what was I to do about John? He wanted to kiss,
endlessly, and now had turned into a most satisfactory
cock sucker. It was a lot more fun than wanking each
other to have long "69" sessions, but my prick knew it
needed more. So that night I didn't allow John to
make me cum, although I swiftly brought him off so
that we could move on to the next stage of his
education.
As he lay with his head cradled in my arms, I said
"John, there's one more thing that real mates do
together.... Are you my best mate? Do you want to go
the whole way with me?"
"Of course I am, Steve."
"OK, roll over...". And I helped him roll over onto
his stomach. I pushed his legs gently apart, raised
his hips and slid one of the pillows under him so that
arse was comfortably in the air.
It felt really good when the tip of my prick touched
his warm arse hole, especially as I knew that I was
the first.
"Steve..."
"Steve... Is this OK? Isn't it what gays do?"
"Sure, John." I leaned forward so my chest was
pressed into his back, feeling his delicious warmth,
and whispered in his ear "This is the best thing that
two blokes can ever do together. It shows that they
are real mates - closer than anyone else they know to
each other. You want to be like that with me, don't
you?"
John said nothing, but I could tell by the way that
his body relaxed, which had been a bit tense, that he
had been reassured by my words. So I went back to
kneeling, then remembering how painful it could be
without lube, knew that I had to do something as I
needed to be very gentle the first time with John. So
I spat on my fingers, then as gently as I could pushed
my forefinger up his hole.
He moaned softly, and I used more spit and a second
finger to open him up a little and make sure he was
well slicked.
John was obviously enjoying this sensation, so I
wasted no more time, wet my prick with another copious
gob of my own spit, then pushed gently into him.
I think John must be a natural - his arse accepted my
cock head enthusiastically, and I had no difficulty in
pushing in up to the root. Of course I went slowly
and gently, and John knew I would stop if he asked me
to. But he didn't ask - he just lay there moaning
gently and sighing. Not moans of pain or anything,
but deep sounds of pleasure.
That first time I fucked him very slowly and gently,
and with the excitement of his sucking at me first, it
didn't take me long to cum. I lay on his back, and
let my arms fall to my sides where I found his, and we
held each other close until I felt I had recovered.
Then I pulled out of him, and before he had time to
move, took some of the toiled tissue from the bedside
box and wiped his arse of the trail of spit, cum and
shit that was all around it. Is there a more tender
thing a guy can do for another than clean him up like
that after sex? A whole lot of guys make their
partners fend for themselves! Then I went out and
washed my own cock at the basin in the bathroom,
before returning to slip in beside John and wrap my
arms around him again.
To my surprise, there were signs of tears on John's
cheeks.
"I didn't hurt you, did I mate?", I asked him as
gently as I could.
"No, Steve. I just couldn't believe how fantastic
that felt. And I loved having you so close to me,
lying against my back and with your cock up me. But
Steve... I'm worried. It's.... It's.."
He stopped, so I probed gently "It's what, John?"
"Well we're two straight blokes, right? I had a
fiancee, and you were always shagging birds. When we
came here we used to undress in the bathroom, and
sleep in separate beds. Then after those slaves
sucked us off, we started to wank each other, and you
said that was all right as every man wanks, so what's
the problem with wanking your mate? It wasn't being
gay at all - just the thing that straight blokes do
when there's no women around - like in prison, or guys
in the army out on patrol, or those in the navy cooped
up on ships...."
"I love sucking your cock, but I don't think it's
right - I don't think straight blokes do that."
"Oh, John, don't worry about it! I'm your best mate,
aren't I? Haven't I always done the right thing by
you?"
"Of course, Steve. When I was living alone you took
me to the pub with your friends... You always looked
out for me on the site... You sorted out my girl
friend.... You look out for me here...."
"Well, then. If you and I do something together, and
I always look out for you, how can it be wrong?"
"Look", I continued, "There are no women around here.
It's natural for a couple of blokes like us to need to
release our sexual energy at least once a day. So
isn't it better for us to have a bit of fun together
than just to fuck the old five-fingered widow? When
we go back to England, I bet you'll soon find a new
girlfriend, especially with all the money you'll have
saved!"
"But Steve, you went up my arse.... That's wrong,
somehow....."
The poor boy was obviously a bit confused, so I said
"Look, did you enjoy it? No - don't answer - I know
you did. And I did, too. So how can anything that
two blokes, really good mates, do together that they
both enjoy be wrong?"
"And look at in another way: an erect prick is a
great size and shape for sliding into an arse. Do you
think the body would be made that way if it wasn't
meant for pricks to go up arses? And would it be so
enjoyable?"
"But Steve, all our mates in the pub back home, they'd
call us 'queer' for doing this...."
"It's only because they haven't tried it, John! They
all have slags of wives who occasionally let them have
it, or they go home and wank themselves off to a porno
mag, just like you used to. If they had a best mate
like you to take to bed, they'd all be doing just the
same as we are. They all really want to be close to
someone, just as we are, but they're all too scared to
give it a try. It's them that are 'queer' - we're
doing the normal thing that any two blokes would do
who get he chance, with someone they really like."
I think I'd reassured John, because he was falling
asleep in my arms as we lay there, and I could just
enjoy the warmth of his breath as it fluttered across
my face. Actually, although I liked fucking men, it
was good to have a really faithful mate like John who
would do as I say and then trust me to do the right
thing by him and be so tender at moments like this. I
knew then that I needed both sorts of sex - I wanted
to fuck and fuck and fuck, slaves from the pleasure
room, slave 3, John, slave 7 when I could: I wanted
to top all of them. But I also wanted to feel the
pleasure of having a loyal, trusting mate like John in
my arms when I slept: someone who would do whatever I
said, and would expect nothing other than to be
allowed to follow me around and do whatever I did.
We started the next day "normally", and I fed all
three slaves properly, and woke John with a cheery
slap on the bum. He didn't mention the night before,
so I didn't make a thing of it, either. At work I took
the foreman aside and asked him if he thought the
Sheikh would mind if I had 7's rings removed.
"No, anytime you like", he replied. "They were only
to put in to punish him, to remind him that he's a
slave - as they flop up and down as he works, he's
constantly reminded of his status - and as a warning
to other Overseers and masters that he's potentially
very unruly. But you seem to have got him tamed a
bit, so if you want them out, have it done - he's been
punished enough anyway - his back will never heal
properly with all that scarring."
At lunchtime that day whilst John and I were eating
our sandwiches, I made all three slaves sit along the
wall rather than use them as seats for us. It was
interesting to see that 3 and 6 now made 7 sit between
them, and the three slaves all looked a lot happier.
Of course 7's prick was still sticking out as a result
o his banding, but 3's constant erections had gone
away - he and 6 now only had the occasional erections
we all get.
When John and I had finished, I called all three
slaves over and told 3 to go and get my big wire
cutters from my tool box. As I approached 7, I saw
him flinch, just a little, momentarily: I think he
thought I was going to slip he handle into his nipple
ring and use him as a tool carrier again, and these
wire cutters were seriously heavy.
But instead I snipped his left ring, then snipped
again to take a little piece out of its circumference.
Then I repeated the process on his right, put the
cutters down on the floor, and rotated the rings on
his nipples until I could take both rings our.
"There, slave. I think that looks better", I said. I
rubbed his left nipple between my thumb and
forefinger, because I was interested to feel the hole
let by the ring.
"They tell me the hole will close up in a day or two,
and then you'll almost be like the rest of us!", I
said jokingly, pointing down at his banded cock that
was still jutting out firmly in front of him.
"OK, guys, back to work."
The week was going well - I fucked 3 and 6 when I had
them working with me and John and 7 were off at the
other end of the palace. It felt exciting to have 6
watch as I ploughed 3's arse. But later, when I
fucked 6, I made 3 kneel at the side of the room -
even though I didn't hurt 6, I knew how protective 3
was of him and I didn't want any unpleasant incidents.
Things really went well with John, too. After that
first time, I fucked him every night and he really did
appreciate it. He still liked a lot of foreplay of
course, so we had all our usual kissing, caressing,
nipple teasing, and stroking before I fucked him - I
didn't just tell him to lie there and prepare, as I
did the slaves. He liked that that sort of thing a
lot, and, actually, so do I with the right guy. It
was good in a way because I usually tossed him off as
the signal that the "fore" was over and the real
"play" was about to begin for me - so I could use his
cum to slick his arse and lube up my cock. Feeling
his warm slime being rubbed into my cock, and having
that special scent it his filling the room made the
whole scene that much more sexy.
I could hardly restrain myself sometimes, and John
took a bit of time to get used to a very hard pounding
especially as I taught him the position I liked most
was with him on his back with his bum raised as he
grasped his ankles up to his head. The first time I
really forgot myself and pounded into him hard like
this he was actually crying out - but I knew it was as
much pleasure as pain, so I didn't stop. And we
laughed a lot after it anyway.
I'd planned to make more progress with the retraining
of 7, but when John called his mom later that week he
came to me crying, and said that his dad had been
taken to hospital. It wasn't serious - appendicitis -
but he didn't like his mom having to cope on her own
and he didn't know what to do.
It was easy, actually - I told him to stop crying. I
threw a few of his "UK" clothes into a bag as we now
habitually just wore Ts and shorts, and called on the
phone for a car. As we were driving to the
international airport, three hours away over the
terrible roads across the desert, we called the
Sheikh's travel advisor who fixed everything. I was
going to go with John, but he said "no", as I needed
to stay and look after the slaves and get on with our
contracts.
Someone was bumped off the flight, even though it was
only making a refuelling stop on its way from
Australia: I saw him, and as he was a first lass
passenger used to making a lot of fuss and commotion,
I can tell you he wasn't a happy bunny. To have come
all that way and now be stuck here for 24 hours seemed
to make him really pissed off.
But John was on, and away. That night he phoned me
and said everything was marvellous - he had a
chauffeured car at Heathrow, and the car was waiting
outside, 24 hours a day for him and him mom. The
Sheikh really is an extraordinarily considerate and
generous employer.
He was in England a week in total, and the second
night he was away I was really lonely in bed. I was
used to a good shag, and without one, and a warm body
by me, I couldn't get to sleep. I thought about going
down to the pleasure rooms, but had a better idea: I
opened the wall, unlocked the cage door, and called 7
into the bedroom. I left 3 and 6 locked in the cage,
as I knew they were all right together.
He stood there in front of me, naked, and I was of
course naked too as I'd got out of bed. This was the
time for boldness, and I simply walked up to him and
kissed him - hard - putting my hand behind his neck
and forcing my tongue into his mouth.
He broke off, and started to say "Fucking.... ", but
perhaps remembered that he was a slave. Or perhaps
the intimate contact he was no having with 3 and 6 had
mellowed him. Or perhaps no one had ever kissed him
before. Anyway, he didn't complete the sentence... he
didn't give me a lot of verbal, as I thought he might.
Instead he just stood there, and I could see his chest
rising and falling as he breathed deeply, sweat
starting to break out all over him. He was betrayed,
too, by his cock - it had gone from being semi-erect
to fully erect and was now swinging in front of him
even more than usual.
So I went back and kissed him again, and he responded.
Soon we were both kissing deeply, and clawing at each
other's bodies in passion. We stepped back, and it
was him pushing me onto the bed, rather than the other
way around!
We continued to kiss, touch, stroke and grope each
other for a long time. Both he and I were fully
erect, and both dripping precum. I caressed his
nipples which had now almost totally healed, and
traced my little finger around the scars of his slave
number on his chest.
We were both ready to do more, so I pulled my mouth
off his and said
"Roll over, so I can fuck you."
"I don't fuck" was the harsh reply.
"What?"
"You heard me. I've learned to wank with 3 and 6, and
to suck and be sucked. But I don't fuck, and I don't
get fucked!"
Oh God, not another one. He's almost as bad as John,
worrying about whether it was "right" or not. And I
was worried about his tone - this isn't the way a
slave should address his master.
"Look, 7, you've been fucked before. 3 and 6 have
been up that arse of yours, so I don't see what the
problem is. You're right that you're not going to
fuck - I don't want to be fucked. But I do want to
fuck you, and there's two ways we can do it: either
we can go on with this very nice love making, and I'll
fuck you like I would any other bloke I'm in bed with.
Or I'll get 3 and 6 to come and hold you down, whilst
I rape that arse of yours."
"You wouldn't fuck in front of 3 and 6.... "
"Oh yes I would, 7. I have already - I've had both 3
and 6 whilst the other watches. It was quite a turn
on really. So it would not be a hardship for me to
have them watch me fuck you. Come on... What IS your
problem? It's not as if you're a virgin, even."
"Look... I wasn't brought up like this. I went
straight into the marines, and we didn't do this sort
of thing."
"Actually, I bet the other marines did, even if you
didn't. It's well known that men join the army, the
navy and the marines so that they can be with lots of
other men. And then the inevitable, natural thing
happens..."
"It's not right to order me to let me fuck you... "
"Actually, it is. You're a slave, and I can order you
to do anything I like. But stop this 'I'm only a
slave' nonsense - you're as free now as you were in
the Marines."
"No I'm not!"
"Yes, of course you are. 'Freedom' is some thing you
have inside you, and you must like obeying orders and
being commanded what to do or you wouldn't have gone
into the marines in the first place. You don't see
entrepreneurs, captains of industry, anyone who likes
to control their own lives joining the forces, do you?
Only guys who, whether they admit it or not, like to
be commanded and don't like to have to think for
themselves too much. You were a good marine, I should
think, and I don't see why you hate being a slave so
much: I was tough that you didn't obey the Sheikh
properly that first night and that led on to all those
terrible punishments. But since you've been living a
'normal' slave's life working away with us - working
hard, admittedly - it hasn't been so bad has it? I
bet I give you fewer orders in the course of a day
than your sergeant did! And you couldn't hope for
nicer mates than 3 and 6 - since you've been treating
each other properly, I think it's probably almost
exactly like having really good buddies back in the
marines."
"Shit, no.. It isn't the same...."
"It isn't the same, but if you would just accept that
you're a slave, and make the most of it, it could
actually be better. You can be totally controlled and
not have to think at all. And you can have really good
times with your fellow slaves, who'll be closer to you
than the other marine grunts ever were. Wise up, 7.
You're in for the long haul: make the most of it."
Before he could say anything in reply, I kissed him
again and we started again to go through all the
exciting things that two young, fit blokes can do to
each other in bed. I really don't know whether he
genuinely wanted me to fuck him at the end of all
this, or whether my words had really struck home. But
after we had caressed, stroked, rolled, and kissed
each other a whole lot more I found him opening his
arse to me and I slipped in to him.
It actually was better than any of the fucks I'd had
before. Although the pleasure slave was expert and
fun, I knew it "was his job". 3 and 6 were physically
great fucks, but their servile acceptance of me as a
master took away some of the pleasure: they probably
enjoyed it because I was a master, rather than a
skilled fucker. And I was too used to John
"following" me and doing what I did and what I said -
he was altogether too passive and accepting, even
though I know he enjoyed it deeply, as did I, and he's
the one man in the world I'll never let down.
But 7 was different - he was a tiger! Once he had
accepted the inevitable, he fully co-operated and I
have never had such a great time. We were both already
sweating and panting from our strenuous foreplay, and
even though I quickly gained entrance for my cock head
to his arse hole, 7 then started to really take part.
He bucked and threw himself around under me, so his
movements reinforced my own thrusting; he shouted out
in joy as I struck home hard; and he reached out for
my legs, arse and body to take them with his strong
fingers and try to almost pull me into him with even
more force.
As we lay together afterwards, sweating heavily and
with the smell of our sex filling our nostrils, I
couldn't believe that two men could act so
passionately together. In fact, I didn't think a
bloke and a bird could, either: you need both
partners to have approximately the same body shape
and body mass to be able to really go at it as we had.
"So what am I going to do with you now, 7?", I asked
when we'd recovered a little.
"That was fantastic! ", he stuttered. "You could
start by calling me Joe!"
"Used that to be your name, 7? I don't think it would
be a good idea for me to call you that, or even for
you to be thinking of yourself as that. Remember,
even though we've just had a great time together, man
to man, almost as equals, you're still a slave. And
you always will be a slave. There's no escape for
you, and no going back to your old life, you know.
You're going to live your life out as a slave of the
Sheikh's, here on his estates, and you've got to learn
to live with and accept that. Look at 2 and 6, and see
how happy they are: although you weren't bred to it
like they were, you'd be a whole lot happier if you
just accepted your slavery as your condition now. So
I'll continue to call you slave, or 7, even when we're
in bed and I'm allowing you a bit of leeway in your
attitude towards me."
I didn't put him back in the cage that night, as it
was good to have another man's body against me. In the
morning, after a bit of kissing and stroking, I did
however put him back with the other two - he needed to
understand that he was a slave. And I needed 3 and 6
to see that, too.
If anything, we got better and better at fucking: he
was always trying to push me, and I had to exert quite
firm control (and self control!) to keep him in his
place. He scratched at that skin between my balls and
my arse hole, and he saw that that was pleasant for
me. He probed at my hole with his finger, and when I
didn't stop him, went all the way in and started to
massage my prostate - if they taught him that in the
marines, then he was lying about what he and his mates
did together! And he tried to push his cock in - when
I felt its warmth touching against my virgin pucker, I
almost relented- but really, slaves shouldn't be
allowed to fuck masters, even if they thought they
might quite like it.
John only spent a week in England as his dad was soon
out of hospital and, as I've said, it wasn't a really
serious operation anyway. He looked so different - so
confident somehow - as he bounded up to me and started
hugging when he got back to the palace. He was full
of how he had done the journey all by himself, how
proud his mom and dad were of the fact that he was
doing well for himself (remember the chauffeur and the
car), and how he'd been able to go and see his ex girl
friend without any longer feeling anything for her.
But as we talked more, it seems the thing that had
pleased him most was that he had picked up a guy in
the local pub and fucked him in the back of the car!
It was so unlike the old, timid, John, that I thought
he must be having me on. But no, he told me every
detail - he'd seen this bloke he fancied, so he'd made
the first approach!
I wondered what to do now. Five is a difficult
number. I could leave 3 and 6 together for ever, but
what was I going to do about John and 7? I couldn't
abandon my best mate, but, equally, I wanted to go on
fucking 7 and I knew that if he wasn't attended to
regularly, he'd start to brood and we'd be back to
square one again.
But, as it happened, I didn't have to do anything as
the Sheikh did it for us. John and I were invited to
one of the Sheikh's "evenings" again, and 3 was of
course to be the Sheikh's champion fighter. It was an
even more glittering and magnificent occasion than the
previous one, as the king himself was coming. Unlike
the last time, when the crowd had been so scandalised
by the actions of the marine, this time everything
went according to plan - 3 and the visiting champion
came out and bowed to the king and to the sheikh, so
that the rest of us in the room had an excellent view
of their magnificent arses as their foreheads touched
the floor. It was actually exciting to watch them
oil each other, sensuously rubbing their hands over
each other 's bodies, and paying particular attention
to their cocks (I suppose that's sensible as one or
other was after all going to be forced up the other's
arse before the evening was out).
It was a great fight, and John and I really enjoyed it
as we had someone to rout for - our boy, 3. I
commented to the foreman, who was also amongst the
invited guests, that it showed that he had been able
to keep his fighting form in spite of being taken out
of his normal harsh duties for the comparatively
"easy" life as our moveable stepladder and general
worker.
After he had triumphantly fucked the vanquished
visiting champion, we then saw how incomplete the
evening before had been - the loser had to clean off
3's cock, by licking it clean of his arse juice and
3's cum. The foreman explained that the slaves were
always given at least four enemas, so that their arses
ran clear, before the fight. As this cleaning of the
victor's cock was the traditional end and the audience
liked to see it, they didn't want the slaves catching
any diseases, or even getting an upset stomach, from
licking crap off the prick - fighting slaves like
these were just too valuable.
3 then mounted the dais, and again knelt down and
touched his forehead to the floor. The Sheikh said
something to him, and as a mark of favour, he was
again allowed to sit at the feet of the chief guests
on the dais. His chest still faintly heaving from his
exertions, he looked even more magnificent in his
nakedness than usual - I think it was the comparison
of the oiled, naked warrior with the sumptuous
surroundings and the otherwise totally clothed
audience that made it so clear that he really was a
perfect specimen of maleness.
As the evening progressed, we ate and drank more, and
were again entertained by the troupe of naked dancers.
I was beginning to appreciate now the perfection of
these guys' bodies, and the efforts that they had put
in to make them so perfect at executing their complex
sexual manoeuvres. I know I was erect for most of the
time just thinking about being able to interact with
another guy as they were doing, and I suppose everyone
else was, too - certainly I could see 3 looking in
amazement, and his prick was standing straight out in
front of him as the show progressed.
The king and the Sheikh were talking throughout the
evening, and I could see a number of gestures being
made at 3's naked back as he sat in front of them.
After a few minutes the Sheikh made a gesture to
summon over the guard commander, whispered something
in his ear, and the man went around behind the dais to
emerge again on the side where 3 was, and lead him
off. What was happening, I wondered - and something
prompted me to go and find out.
So excusing myself from the foreman, I gestured to
John and we both went out of the banqueting hall and
down the steps we had been down before into the area
underneath the arena where the slaves were kept before
and after the performance. The vanquished slave was
sitting around perfectly normally, looking none the
worse for the fucking he had got from 3, but 3 was
locked into a tiny cage. It would only just hold his
big body, and he was sat with his back against one set
of bars, his feet against the other so that his knees
were bent upwards, and his body curled over so that
his head was on his knees so that the lid of the cage
could be closed down onto him. He looked the picture
of misery as he huddled there, and even his cock -
which was hanging down between his naked thighs,
looked sort of shrivelled up.
"What's happening?", I asked the guard commander who
was standing there. "Why's that slave locked in the
cage - he won tonight, so surely he's not going to be
punished!"
"No, sir. Far from it. He has been given a great
honour: the king was so impressed with his
performance that he asked the Sheikh if he could buy
him. The Sheikh at once gave the slave to the king as
a gift, as is the custom when a guest admires one of
your possessions. So the slave is only in that
transit cage so that he can be loaded in to the trunk
of the king's car when he leaves."
"You'd have thought that he'd be pleased, and
honoured", the man continued. "The King doesn't keep
a stable of fighters like the Sheikh, so he'll never
have to fight again. The king has ordered him for his
bedchamber- that slave will spend the rest of his life
in luxury, only having to satisfy the desires of the
king. He'll have lots of free time to keep himself in
good shape, and it's not like working at all: As I
said, you'd have thought he'd be pleased. And instead
of that, when I told him about it, he started to
struggle - I've known this slave ever since he first
came here at 16, and I've never seen him like this
before."
I went over to 3, and started to speak to him.
"So, you've made it at last! They tell me it's a
great honour to be chosen by the king - you'll be his
favourite."
"Oh Master, yes. I want to serve the king. I want to
be his bed slave. But I'm worried about 6. I've
always looked out for him, and now I will never see
him again. Without me he's sure to get into trouble,
and before long he'll be whipped for some silly
mistake because he doesn't understand - and once the
Overseers and masters think that he's always doing the
wrong thing and always getting whipped, they'll send
him off to the mines!"
"Look, 3, that's what being a slave is all about. If
your master sells you or gives you away, then you have
to go Yes, it is unlikely that you will ever see 6
again. But you know that he is currently working for
me and master John - and we know that he is good and
strong, and a very willing slave who always does his
best for us. So you don't have to worry about him
being whipped: we'll look after him."
"Oh Master, thank you. I've known 6 for so long, and
I've always taken care of him and I was really worried
about what was going to happen to him. Will you say
goodbye to him for me, and tell him why I was not able
to do so myself?"
"Of course we will, won't we John?"
Even John was moved at the sight of 3 being torn away
from his long time friend and lover, and said (and
this was unusual, as he didn't usually speak to the
slaves directly and left it all up to me) "I'll tell 6
for you, 3."
I was even more amazed when he put his fingers in
through the bars of the cage and rubbed them all over
3's cock and balls - 3 became erect, of course, and as
John continued to massage his fingers around, even
leaked a couple of drops of pre cum.
"I'm not going to wash my hand now, 3, until I see 6.
Then I will allow him to smell and lick my fingers, so
he can have a final scent of you as I tell him why
you're going", John continued. "I'm sure it will be
better that way."
The guard captain came over at that moment and said
they were ready to load 3 then, and the last we saw of
him was as his caged body was taken out of the holding
area towards the loading bay.
Back in our room John looked at me, and said "Shall we
tell him now, or in the morning?"
"I don't know - let's look and see what they're
doing."
I turned on the TV and tuned it to the CCTV camera in
the cage, and saw 7 and 6 both sitting companionably
against the wall, talking.
"I guess they're waiting for 3 to come back", I said
to John. "So you'd better go in there and get it over
with!"
"Steve, won't you tell him?"
"No, John. You said you would. And, anyway, I think
you ought to start as we need to go on from now."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, 6 is going to be pretty upset about losing 3.
He's always been 'taken care of' by 3, and he's going
to feel lost and alone. The slave 7 isn't really the
kind of slave who will look out for 6 - he's too much
of a loner. So I think you ought to take 6 as your
special charge and be his 'special' master. If he
wasn't a slave, you'd like him as a bloke, wouldn't
you?"
"Well, yes."
"So, you ought to be able to like him as a slave.
Just don't let him get too familiar - remember, we're
going back to England one day and he's going to have
to cope on his own. I think that he never really
improved because 3 was like a big brother to him -
but you could start off like that, but make sure that
he got more independent so that when he has to go back
to the work gangs, he'll be able to fend for himself."
"After all", I continued, "Guys can get more
confident..."
I think John realised I was referring to him, and saw
the parallels between the way I looked out for him as
a mate, and 3 treated 6.
"What's more", I went on, "I know you've looked at
both him and 3 for a long time - you've been thinking
abut fucking them, haven't you?"
"No....."
"Come on, John, I've seen you thinking about it.
You're not worried about that silly 'gay' stuff are
you? You know how perfectly normal, and how
absolutely great it is, when we have sex. So why
shouldn't you fuck 6?"
"If I were you, I think the best way of dealing with
the poor guy tonight would be to go in there and tell
him about 3 as well as you can, and let him smell 3's
juices on your fingers. Then, as he'll be very upset,
bring in here, push him onto the bed, and fuck him!"
"That will do two things. Firstly, it will take his
mind off 3 - it's a great honour to be fucked by a
master, after all. And secondly, it will bond him to
you - having you so close to him so soon after losing
3 will make it easier for him to switch to you as the
one he looks up to."
"But I can't just bring him in here and fuck him,
Steve. You're here."
"So....?"
"Well, I can't be fucking with you lying there
listening.... "
"OK, John. So here's what we'll do. You go and tell
6, and then fuck him. I will fuck the slave 7, so I
won't be able to hear what you're doing - I'll be too
busy concentrating on getting my prick up that slave's
arse."
"But Steve, in the same room?"
"Why not? We don't have any secrets from each other
do we, John?"
Well, to cut a long story short, it all went really
well. It's amazing how it's turned out, really. 6 is
almost like a pet dog to John - follows him
everywhere, does everything for him. It's almost at
the point that when I want 6 to do something, he
hesitates and looks at John for permission, in case
John needs him for something more important. And
having the slave to control has absolutely made a
difference to John: he's far more confident and
controlling now than he was. He's also doing a great
job at teaching 6 to listen to masters' commands, and
to '"think" just a bit. I feel that when we do go back
to England, 6 will be able to return to the slave pool
and actually live out a long, happy and useful life.
I actually miss being quite so close to John: it was
good being his best mate" (of course I still am), but
we're not in that same relationship. I still fuck him
occasionally, but I don't have to watch out for him
all the time to make sure he's doing the right things.
He's a really nice bloke, and I think that when we do
go back to England, we'll probably drift further
apart. He still wants to get married, because he
wants nippers of his own, but he says that it won't
make any difference to us - he still wants us to be
mates, and he says he'll still let me fuck him. But
know it won't be like that - if he does get married,
we'll inevitably drift apart as he won't need me at
all. And as for the fucking - well, I suppose that if
he comes to visit me he'll happily jump into bed "for
old time's sake", but that won't be very often. You
do get to the point with people like John that you
have to let them go, however much you don't want to,
as it's for their own good that they grow and develop.
He couldn't go on being "looked after" for ever by
me, I suppose.
But I don't think we'll be going back to England for a
long time. We've just signed up for another year.
The money's piling up, the work's still interesting,
and there's no end to it - like painting the bloody
Forth Bridge: when we eventually do get to one end of
this Palace, we'll be able to go back and start all
over again.
However the real reason I don't want to go home is 7.
He's a slave and always will be, as there's no way
that the Sheikh will ever let him go. I've got him
permanently assigned to us, and after he'd been
without his nipple rings for a couple of weeks,
managed to get the foreman to get agreement that his
cock band could be removed as well so his cock and
balls hang down just like a normal slave's does. When
you see him around the Palace now, you couldn't tell
he was once considered to be a really wild slave, who
needed those special punishments to mark him out as
trouble maker.
We're so alike, that when I'm walking around our rooms
naked, you can hardly tell who is the slave, him or me
- if it wasn't for his brands, he'd be just like us.
Although I liked fucking a massive muscular slave like
3, I really do prefer men of my own height and weight
in bed, and 7 fits the bill perfectly. He's such a
fantastic sex partner, and after that performance on
the first night, has never lost his enthusiasm for
sex. We all four share the same room, and the cage
door stands open permanently - John tends to fuck 6
and I tend to fuck 7, but we're all perfectly free and
natural with each other and if John or I fancy a
change, we just take the other's "special" slave.
I've given 7 another privilege, too. Although I
always refer to him as 7 at work and when there are
others around ,when we're making love every night I
call him Joe and I allow him to call me Steve, not
master.
I asked him last night if he ever thought he'd end up
in bed with a man every night, and work naked all day,
and he said of course he didn't. I couldn't resist
asking him if it was better than the Marines - and
he'd almost forgotten that he'd ever been in the
corps. He really is living for the moment, and he's
enjoying every minute of it. You have to watch him in
bed, though - at the end of the day, I am the master
and I say what goes. But he still tries to get his
prick up my arse, however much I try to stop him -
it's become one of our little games. I might even
give it a go one day, just to see what it fells like.
And me? Well, there's a turn up for the book. I was
always a bit of a Jack the lad, and never wanted any
responsibility. And look at me now - I've got these
three dependent on me. I've got to run their lives,
as well as my own. All I ever wanted was enough money
so I could enjoy a pint every night, shag a couple of
birds every now and then, and not have to worry much
about where the next pound was coming from. And here
I am, with all these responsibilities. I couldn't
have forecast that. And, you know what? It isn't
just the fantastic sex - and I never thought I'd ever
want to go with a bloke - I actually like being in
charge.
Author's note:
That is the end of the transcript of my conversation
with Steve. I interviewed John, the slave 6 and the
ex-marine 7 separately, but their narratives do not
contribute substantially to my theme and so have not
been published here. I could not arrange to meet the
slave 3 for interview - he is, I understand, still in
the King's palace, and still acting as one of the
King's special pleasure slaves.
In my earlier paper on the theme of how the two
ordinary electricians Steve and John reacted to
slavery, I said that it was clear that "working men"
could readily adapt to working with slaves, and would
readily use them if it made their life easier. When I
come to draw my final conclusions on slavery today, I
will use the continuing story of Steve and John to
support my assertion that not only would they work
with slaves, but that they would easily learn to be in
complete control of slaves, and would do everything
that "normal" masters do to slaves, up to and
including using them for their sexual pleasure and
relief.
It is interesting to notice how both Steve and John
modify their attitudes to the ownership and control of
slaves, and to gradually accept that "gay" practices
are a natural regular part of the life of "ordinary"
blokes. Freed of the artificial constraints imposed
by Western society, both of them discover that it is
natural for men who had previously thought of
themselves as completely heterosexual to learn that it
is fact "gay" sex that is truly satisfying.
Readers are reminded that there is nothing special
about Steve and John - they are, by their own
admission, just ordinary working blokes from the East
End. If they can find happiness and fulfilment in
their new gay life, how many more of their fellow
could, too?
THE END