Date: Thu, 14 Apr 2005 05:12:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Spoils Of War,  Part 27

THE SPOILS OF WAR  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 27

Another transporter truck.  We all sat there, huddled
together, wondering where we were going, and whether
the work we'd have to do in our new place would be
better, or worse.  My only worry was that we might
have been sold off to the mines, as I'd heard that
slaves there had a really dreadful time of it;  but I
didn't voice this concern, except in a whispered
conversation with Ali so he would be prepared, in case
it upset the other guys.

We didn't go all that far, though - only about three
hours or so.  Of course we still had no exact idea
where we were as we'd never learned the place where
the original farm was.  Still, we must still be in the
South, and so we were still going to be slaves,
weren't we?  

They unloaded us onto a beautiful green lawn in front
of one of those elegant white southern mansions - the
sort that have big columns down the front, and a wide
veranda all around them.   We stood there, stretching
our limbs and breathing in the warm, fresh air (as
usual it had been pretty fetid in the truck, as we'd
all had to piss).  Two guards - they all seemed to
have the same kind of "uniform" to do this job - crisp
shorts, short sleeved shirts, black leather belts,
black boots, and a variety of prods and whips hanging
about them - paced up and down.  Without saying a word
they marched us off around to the back, and there the
situation changed a bit - the elegant white mansion
had a neat slave quarters in a separate block, and
they led us in through the doors.  The guards lined us
up, consulted papers, and went up to Ali.  He was
called forward out of the line, and told to bend over
a small table they carried up, and then, to our
astonishment, a high speed electric saw was brought
over and they proceeded to saw through the coupling
holding him to the coffle.  To cries of alarm from my
fellows - soon silenced by threats from the guards -
Ali was led off, and the rest of us were left standing
there.

Actually, this place didn't seem to treat slaves too
badly - the seven off us were taken down a corridor
and locked into a slave cage, but it was big, and
light, and airy, and, luxury of luxuries, there were
even sleeping pads made of foam rubber on the floor! 
We had a place to get water, too - there was a kind of
nipple thing on the wall which you could put your
mouth over and when you pressed with your tongue, you
got cool, fresh water.  It was a bit difficult to use,
as we were chained together, but we all shuffled past
it, and felt a lot better.  We were even more amazed
when, in addition to the normal slave chow, the guards
even tossed some apples into the cage a few minutes
later.  We fell on  them and devoured them all -
literally!  Even the stalk and the pips!  It was so
long since any of us had anything other than slave
chow that we'd forgotten how food tasted, and even now
I can remember the shock as the tart sweetness of that
apple hit my tongue.

In the absence of Ali, the other guys sort of looked
to me as a leader, and they clustered close to me that
night, as if the presence of my body could provide
them ith some protection.  We were so used to sleeping
on the hard dirt floor of the barn that even though it
would have been more comfortable to sleep on the
sleeping pads, we all still lay in a heap, as if we
needed the comfort of each others closeness at this
time.    The men all whispered to me to see if I knew
what had happened to Ali, but all I could do was tell
them that I had no more idea than they did, but that
we needed to remain strong, and hope that he was going
to be OK.    I don't think that any of us really slept
that night, though- we were all too worried about what
was going to happen to us, and what had happened to
Ali.  I didn't like to say it out loud, but the
thought had occurred to me that perhaps they had
mistaken Ali for me, and he'd been taken off for
gelding by some bizarre twist of fate.

The next morning we were allowed to shower - an
unbelievable luxury for us! No more hose and scrubbing
brush wielded by slaves, but a proper warm shower,
where we were actually allowed to soap ourselves and
clean each other!  And afterwards, they actually
issued us with razors so we could stand there and
shave each other.  This must be slave heaven we
thought, and a couple of the guys who had still clung
to a shred of their absurd religion said that at any
moment they expected to see their prophet guiding them
even further into paradise!   The guards fed us again
- and we had more fruit, too, and then we were taken
out onto the smooth green lawn and  commanded to wait
there.

It was all very mysterious, but I sensed trouble when
the guards told us to stop and line up neatly (I was
now having to act as translator as Ali had gone) and
line up neat row.  Two white robed figures appeared on
the veranda, and they  seemed to be arguing with each
other, the leading one fatter and evidently older than
the younger one.  They made their way across the grass
towards us, and as they got closer I felt my fellow
slaves stirring with excitement - I couldn't imagine
why, until I realised that the younger guy was Ali! 
He didn't acknowledge us, though, as he was engaged in
a furious argument with the older man.  I was fluent
enough now to be able to follow it

"Ali, it is impossible!  It was difficult enough to
locate you and I had to buy the whole coffle!  I
cannot afford to let all the slaves go..."

"Father, it's not a choice!  These are my men:  good
men,  loyal men, who fought with me against the
invaders... I will not go back to our country and
leave  them here to live out their lives as slaves..."

"You will do as I command, my son.  Not only because
you are my son, and you have a duty to wards me for
that reason, but because you are also my slave - you
forget that I bought you, and that, in law, you are my
property.  You will return with me to our lands, and
these other slaves will remain here - they will not
have a bad life on our plantation, and they will be
treated well..."

"No, father!  These are free men, fighters, our own
countrymen...."

"All except for the American - yes, I know all about
his history, as I paid well for my agents to locate
you, and when they did, they also unearthed this
slave's curious tale.  He is the enemy, Ali, and even
though I will keep our fellow countrymen here as
gardeners and so on, he will be sold - he's  a marine,
the type who are holding our country in captivity, and
he deserves to continue to be treated as the low life
that he is..."

"No, father!"

"Yes, my son.  You will return with me.  Our fellow
countrymen will remain here as slaves working the
grounds - the work is not hard, and they will be well
treated.  And the American will be sold, sold to live
out his life in a coffle where he will be worked into
an early grave.  And so to all the infidels who
invaded our country...."

"But father, Steve did not do that.  He never left the
USA, he...."

"Silence!  Return to the house and prepare to leave: 
we are travelling home on one of our oil tankers and
time is money - we do not want the sailing to be
delayed."

"No, father!"

"You will do as you are told, my son.  A son owes a
duty to his father, even though you are thirty years
old, and you will obey.  And, as  I said, you are as
lave, and will obey for that reason if no other."

We all stood there listening to this, and then, to our
astonishment, as we watched, Ali let his robe fall to
the ground.  He was wearing small white briefs
underneath, the pure white of the cotton contrasting
with the deep tan of his flesh, and as if it was the
most normal thing in the world, he pushed these down
over his hips and let them drop to the ground.  He 
"fluffed" his dick to free it  from his balls where it
had been squashed, and came and stood next to me, in
the space created on the chain by his removal from the
coffle.

"You say I am a slave, father!  Well, this is how
slaves appear in front of their owners.  I am a naked
slave of yours, father - you own me, as you said.  And
so I will take my place with the other slaves,  back
in the coffle."

His father seemed to be almost apoplectic with rage,
and turned and stalked back towards the house.  All
eight of us stood there, and I whispered to Ali
"Please... Don't do this for me... I'm tough, I can
survive... Go back home... Give all the other guys a
chance of an easy life:  being a slave here doesn't
seem to be all that bad...."

"Silence!", one of the guards shouted, and I felt the
sting of a tawse on my bare butt - not serious,
really, but enough to remind me that they had all the
power, all the control, and that even on a relatively
good plantation like this, a slave's life might not be
quite as good as we had all been imagining.

We all waited in the morning sun wondering what was
going to happen next, until Ali's father reappeared,
followed by two guards carrying a standard
semi-portable flogging horse.  They put it down on the
grass in front of us, then the guards came over and
pulled Ali over towards it.  They were clearly
experienced, as before he could protest or even
struggle, they had him across the horse and his ankles
and wrists pushed firmly into the restraints on its
legs.

Ali's father advanced on him, and I'm sure I saw Ali's
thighs tremble with fear - or was it anticipation, or
was it shame?    We had a grandstand view of the
thrashing that his father now gave him - his ass was
towards us, so we could see his dick and balls hanging
down between his thighs, and his father stood at right
angles to bring the long, flexible cane down again and
again onto Ali's butt.  We watched as his whole body
jerked convulsively as each blow landed, and we could
see the red marks appearing on the deeply tanned flesh
as the beating continued. We all knew that Ali was
tough and strong, and that he must have hated doing
it:  but after the fourth or fifth blow, he just
couldn't help crying out as each stroke of the cane
cut into his flesh

His father went on and on, and had I not been confined
in the coffle, and known that had I made a move the
prod would have been used to make us all insensible,
I'd have rushed over and stopped him.  He seemed to
have lost all sense of proportion - this was not just
a mild caning, administered to an unruly slave, but a
hard, vicious attach that was probably doing serious
damage.  I guessed that Ali and his father had always
had disagreements, and now, at this climactic moment,
his father was punishing Ali not just for his attitude
to his fellow slaves, but for all the other
irritations, disappointments and arguments that
fathers and sons inevitably have in the course of
their lives.  Young men always challenge the authority
of their fathers, and now it seemed as if Ali's father
was taking revenge.

It only stopped when the father was plainly completely
exhausted, and he strode off back into the plantation
house.  The guards released the bindings holding Ali
to the horse, but then had to help him to his feet, so
severe had the beating been.  Even in his terrible
state Ali tried to stagger  back over towards us, to
rejoin us, but the guards held him firmly by the arms
and took him off back towards the house.

"Show's over, boys!", one of the guards said almost
cheerily, and he led us back to the slave quarters,
where we were again caged together.  We all sat
around,  and the men and I all discussed what we had
seen.  It seemed amazing to us all that his father had
managed to buy us, but then, as was pointed out to me,
Ali's family was fabulously wealthy and were in the
ruling class in their country.  Such people always do
well, even if the country is invaded and conquered -
indeed, they probably collaborated with the South, and
consolidated their wealth and power.   The men told me
that they didn't doubt that he could use his position
and wealth to track Ali down, and then to buy him -
but they couldn't understand why he wouldn't also free
them all  and let them return to their homes.  

"I don't like to say this, guy", I told them "But
that' s what rulers always do.  You're strong, brave
fighters, and if I was a member of this 'ruling
class', I wouldn't want you back in the country -
you'd never settle back to your normal work, and you'd
always be fermenting dissent and trouble.  I mean,
you'd be agitating for your rulers to locate and buy
back all your fellow countrymen, wouldn't you?  If you
were returned and freed, why not do the same for all
those other poor bastards in the coffles?  And it's
not as if there wouldn't be the money - your rulers
must be making billions from the oil...."

We spent another day sitting there, and it was so
unusual for us!  I suggested that we all do exercises
as our bodies were not used to being idle, and we did,
although without much enthusiasm.  After I'd fucked
one of my fellows that night and we were just lying
close, arms wrapped around each other, he whispered
"Do you think Ali will succeed, Steve?  I'd like to go
home, like to go back to my wife, and my children..."

"You've got a wife?!"  I couldn't keep the tone of
astonishment out of my voice, as he was known to be
one of the most enthusiastic participants in our sex
games.

"Of course!  I needed sons, and now I have two, I do
not need to breed further.  I want to see my sons, who
were only babies when I fought in the war, but who
will now be growing into proper little men."

"Look, I can't say whether Ali is going to manage it
or not - but if anyone can, it's him.  You saw how he
returned to the coffle, and how he was punished...."

That seemed to calm him a little, and as I drifted off
into sleep I wondered how many of my fellow coffle
mates were married and had kids - you'd never guess
it, from the way we all fucked so enthusiastically! 

Ali was thrown back into our cage later that night. 
We all clustered around him, and even after all those
hours he was in considerable pain from the beating
he'd received, and winced if we even touched his butt
gently.  He settled himself in-between our naked
bodies, though, and his men were all asking what was
happening.  

"My father will not relent.  He requires me to go
home, and leave you here as slaves.  And especially
you, Steve, he insists you're sold...."

It was interesting to see the debate that then went
on.  Some of the men thought that he had an absolute
duty to his father, to do as he was ordered and
return.  And some of the men pleaded not to be left as
slaves, even though we all know that this place was
far, far better than the farm we had been on.  I just
sat there quietly, until Ali put his arm around my
shoulders, and said quietly  "And what about you,
Steve?  Should I abandon you, to be sold off into
another of those foul work coffles?  Leave you here to
be worked to death....?"

"Yes." I replied, keeping my voice equally low, as I
ought to keep emotion out of it.  "You must go.  No
useful purpose is served by condemning yourself to
perpetual slavery.  If you return with your father,
maybe one day you will inherit his fortune, and you
will be able to return and free your men...."

"But what about you, Steve?  This is my father's
American estate, and the men here can be looked after.
 But you will have disappeared into the mass of slaves
spread all around - even if they have not worked you
to death, you will be impossible to trace...."

"Yes, Ali... But it's only me, whereas if you go back,
you will save yourself, and can make sure the rest of
your men do eventually get free.  You're a commander,
aren't you?  And sometimes commanders have to take
hard decisions, deciding to do things they'd probably
rather not do in the interests of the greater  good.  
It's good to be in command most of the time, but when
the payback comes, it can be tough.... that's when
real commanders don't flinch from doing the right
thing"

"No, Steve."

"Yes, Ali.  It's the only way.  You know I'm right. 
Show me how brave you really are, show me how tough a
commander you are by making the decision that you know
you have to make."

Our love making that night was so completely
different, so much better than anything we had ever
done before.  The other guys ignored us as we lay in
each others arms, talking, kissing, and fondling each
other.  I desperately wanted to fuck Ali for one last
time, but with the damage to his butt, it was out of
the question - he begged with me to put myself in his
ass one last time, telling me that he could bear the
pain in return for feeling my dick in him, but I
couldn't bring myself to do it.  He went down on m
dick then, kissing it, playing with my piss slit with
his tongue, and stroking my balls with one hand as
with the other he tweaked my nips, and then, when I
could bear it no more and had shot and filled his
mouth with my cum, he bent over my face and we kissed
deeply, sharing my cum on our beating tongues.

"Give me something to remember you by, Ali", I then
whispered.  "Fuck me."

"But Steve, you don't take it..."

"Ali, I want you, I need you.   I want you buried deep
inside me, so that I'll have a final, special memory
of your body.  Do it, Ali...."

And he did, but with such exquisite gentleness and
stealth that I hardly noticed his hard, warm dick
forcing it s way past my sphincters.  And then of
course as he slowly and languorously fucked me, we
shared that most beautiful experience that only two
fit hard men can have when they're making love, not
just having sex.

He was crying when he'd finished, and we lay together
still, and I licked the salt tears off his cheeks. 
And then it was morning, and the guards came and
pulled him away from us, for what we all thought must
be the last time.  As they led him away, protesting ,
down the corridor, he was still calling out
exhortations and encouragements to the men, telling
them  to be strong, and not to give up hope.

We went through our daily exercises with very heavy
hearts, and later they even got us started on the type
of tasks I though we'd be doing on that plantation -
or, rather, what the other six guys would be doing! 
It was easy, really - pushing lawnmowers over the
beautiful green lawns, then weeding and stuff like
that.  Not at all hard, but not really the type of
work that big strong men needed to use their bodies
for.

We were allowed to shower again that night, and we got
more fruit as well as slave chow, and I tried to cheer
the guys up by pointing out that this was a pretty
superior kind of place to be a slave in, but now they
seemed reconciled to have lost Ali, and were sad that
they were going to lose me!  How different it was from
when I'd first been put into the coffle, and they'd
tried to injure or even kill me as a "dammed Yankee". 

The next morning we were all lined up again and the
little table was brought forward, and I was pushed
down onto it so that they could saw me free from the
coffle chain.  And then they led me off, to heartfelt
cries of farewell from my buddies.  I knew that this
was it, and was expecting to be taken out side and
thrown into a slave transporter to be carried off for
re-coffling, and I thought of making a break for it-
plunging my fist into the belly of the guard, and
running! But what was the point?  I didn't know where
I was, except that I was somewhere in the deep South; 
I was naked; and I guessed that anyone who saw me
would not give me shelter, but would reach for the
phone and call the cops.

To my surprise, though, I was taken over into the
plantation house, and I felt really cold as for the
first time in so many years the whisper of
air-conditioned air came onto my naked skin.  They led
me through the huge hall, my bare feet making "slap,
slap" noises on the highly polished parquet, and into
the presence of Ali's father.  He was in what was some
sort of study or smoking room, with leather couches,
heavy velvet drapes on the windows, and the general
air of opulence and wealth.  The guard halted me in
front of him, and Ali's father's eyes raked my naked
body.  Somehow being nude in these very ordinary
"domestic" surroundings felt far, far worse than I'd
ever felt when I'd had to toil away completely
bare-assed!

"You're a handsome brute, aren't you?"

I just looked at him.

"It's traditional for slaves to reply when their owner
addresses them!", he said calmly.  "I can see that
you're a bit of a trouble maker - and that's probably
why my son likes you so much!  He was always a rebel,
always questioning my authority, always testing the
system.  I had to save him from jail several times
when he questioned the rulings of our Sheikh, and the
way that he ran our country..."

I still stood there, silently.

"So now I have a problem.  A big problem.  And one I
cannot solve.  Ali is sitting in his room.  He
resolutely refuses to dress.  He says that if I am
going to treat him like a slave, he will dress like a
slave.  He refuses to escape this life of slavery here
and return with me to resume a proper life, as a well
educated, rich member of our ruling family.  He says
that he and his men, and you, are to be treated all
together, all the same."

I remained silent, and he went on "And I sense that
you are the pivot around all which this turns.  I have
offered him a life of ease for his men.  I have even
compromised and said that I will take them home with
us - I do not like giving in to the boy, but on this
occasion he may be right - these are my people, after
all,  and although they are expensive, it is but a
trifle compared to my total wealth.  But the sticking
point is you - you are an American.  And I cannot -
no,  I will not - engineer your release."

"Why not?"

"Slave, keep a civil tongue in your head!  I am your
owner, you will remember!"

"Sir, why can't you take me with you?"

"Your country invaded mine, you are the enemy.  You
deserve to receive the harsh treatment that life as a
coffle slave brings."

"But sir, it's not like that... I'm a victim of this
war, too!  I've lost my parents, when the South went
to war on us.  I was a soldier, an honourable soldier.
 I've fought to liberate the oppressed peoples all
over the world.  I didn't ask to be enslaved, I was
captured... I'm just a pawn in all of this, part of
the spoils of war...."

He looked at me, and  I went on "Sir, I don't know if
it is allowed for me to say this... But I have a huge
respect for your son.  All his men think he is a good
commander.  He needs to be free, so that he can fight
and get your country its freedom one day."

"You speak well, for a slave.  But why do you refuse
to give him up?  He will not leave without you?"

"Sir, I haven't.  I told him he must go.  I told him
that he needs to serve a higher purpose than looking
after me.  I don't want to lose him, sir, but its the
best thing for him, the best thing for your country...
 And a man should not argue and fight with his father,
sir..."  I stopped then, my voice almost choking.  "I
know, sir.  I had lots of arguments with my father. 
He never wanted me to be a marine, he wanted me to go
to college, but I knew better.  Then he wanted me to
leave, and get a job, but I knew better.... We were
both strong men, sir, and we could never agree with
each other.  But how he's dead, and I can never tell
him that he might have been right, but that a son
always has to make his own way in the world.  If he'd
lived, sir, I think we'd have been good friends by now
as we could both respect each other in a way that we
couldn't at the time when we were too close to the
problem.  But I don't doubt, sir, that one day you and
Ali will be reconciled, that you will both see each
other for what you are:  strong, powerful men.  And
men have to do what men have to do, sir."

I paused for breath, and rushed on "And just as you
cannot or will not take me back to your country, sir,
so Ali will not leave without me.  Neither of you is
right, neither of you is wrong.  But if you continue
like this, neither of you will ever be truly happy.  A
father should love his son, sir, and a son should love
his father - if both of you continue to simply argue
your own corner, you may never recover.  Please, sir,
for Ali's sake, for the sake of the relationship of
you and your son, don't let your pride prevent you
from doing something that will help you work towards
being reconciled...."

He looked at me again. "As well as being a handsome
brute, you're a clever one!  If you'd begged and
pleaded for tour life, I could have continued to
refuse.  But you have made me see that in the
relationship between a father and his son there has to
be some give and take.  And Ali has been brave -
leading his men against the invaders, giving up an
easy life of luxury..."

He stared at me again, and put out his hand, palm up,
in the way that I'd seen slave owners do.  I moved
forward, and stood with my legs slightly apart, and
his moved his hand  up between my thighs as I stood
there, so that my balls were resting on his warm,
moist palm.  "So do you agree that you are a slave?"

"Sir, I was enslaved, as one of the spoils of war. 
And you bought me... So I must be your slave..."

He almost smiled. "Again, a good answer.  Avoiding the
direct 'yes' or 'no'.  But yet you let me feel these
big, fiery testicles, as any owner might feel those of
his slave.  Have you bred?"

"No, sir."

"So you have no sons to carry on your genes!  Neither
has Ali.  He has not yet bred with his wives and
produced me grandsons."

"He's married?" - I almost gasped this out as I was so
surprised.

"Of course.  He was betrothed when he was a child, and
married at sixteen.  He had four wives.  But I sense
from the way your balls are reacting when you talk
about Ali that there is some deeper relationship
between you and him?"

I blushed deeply.  I mean, here was my lover's father
asking me about our relationship, and I  was naked  in
front of him, and he was holding my balls!  Any of
these things would have been inconceivable in my
former life. But this was a time for honesty.  "Sir,
yes, sir.  We are lovers."

He let go of my balls, took up a phone and barked
something into it in Arabic so guttural that I
couldn't follow it.  He sat there looking at me, and
in my confusion, I felt my dick starting to erect.

"Yes, slave, I can see why Ali likes you - a most
desirable set of organs for any man..." He said.

The door opened then, and a guard led Ali, naked as I
was, into the room.  He tore free of the guard, rushed
over, and threw his arms around me, rubbing his dick
up and down against me and burying his face in my
shoulder.  I'd have died if someone had done that to
me in front of my day, but evidently Ali didn't care.

"This slave has told me many truths, my son",  Ali's
father said.  "And I can see that there is a deep bond
of affection between you.  All my life you and I have
argued, and I have always stood my ground, as a father
must show his son who is master.  But perhaps  I have
been too harsh, and I am going to reverse the habits
of a lifetime and give in to you, to let you have your
way.  The slave can accompany us back to our country,
along with your other men."

"Father...."  Ali let go of me, and rushed and threw
his arms around his father's neck, and hugged him.  I
watched as the red, yellow and blue of the weals and
bruises on his butt ran up and down as he hugged the
man, and  I wondered again what my father would have
thought if I'd ever appeared like that in front of
him, and embraced him when I was totally nude!

The Arab broke away, and went on "But in this spirit
of compromise, you must do something in return, my
son."

"Yes, father, anything..."

"Anything...?"

"Oh yes, father..."

"Very well.  You must breed.  You must produce sons
from those wives of yours.  Grandsons, who I can train
to carry on the family traditions..."

"But father I no longer wish to lie with women..."

"My son, this is so typical of you.  I agree to
everything you want, and you will not do this simple
thing for me.  I am the laughing stock in the Ruling
Council, as even with a big, virile son like you, with
four wives, I do not have any grandchildren.   It's
such a little thing, my son - a few minutes at
most...."

"No, father!  I've told you - my life is devoted to my
men.  And now I really know what being with men means,
there is just no way...."

"Ali", I cut in "Listen to him!  Come on, for fucks
sake ..."  I put my arms around him again, feeling his
hard dick thrusting into my belly, and whispered "Just
agree, will you, you stubborn bastard!  Look at how
far he's come... "

"No, Steve, I can't...."

"Even if I help you?  If you don't give him something
now, the whole deal will be off - I know his type. 
Think of what he's given up:  a lifetime of ordering
you to obey, and having you do it.... Then when the
chips are down, it's him who has to go back on all
those old habits....  You've got to trade something
back to him in return, Ali."

"What?"

"You've got four wives, right?  So let's you and I
'play' as we usually do, then I'll fuck one of them
and you can fuck another... It won't be so difficult,
really... We'll make it a game.... I've been with
women, so I know what to do.... You can fuck them and
think of me, and afterwards...."

"And afterwards, I'll fuck you, Steve?"

"No!  Last night was a one-off..."

"Oh Steve, you've just been telling me we all need to
trade a little to win the deal....!"

Smiling, he broke away from me, walked back to his
father, his dick bobbing bravely in front of him, and
embraced the man.

End Of Part 27