Date: Fri, 25 Nov 2005 05:20:23 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Grows Up, Part Two

Steve Grows Up

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownsetoticstries


Part 2

The moment Mr. Stryker had left the atmosphere seemed
to lighten a little, as the niggas all relaxed.  One
of them slapped dad's hand in greeting, and said that
they hadn't seen him for a long time, and hat he hoped
dad remembered the form.  Dad smiled back at him and
said "Oh yes - how could I forget.  But this is my son
- it's his first time. ...."

"...and a fine boy", the nigga broke in, "...and I can
see he's a chip off the old block.  You surely have a
fine son there, and we'll be gentle with him, just as
we always are with you, you know that.  Now come on,
over to the tables, so we can get started."

Dad kind of shepherded me over to where there were two
stainless steel tables next to each other.   There was
a faintly unpleasant smell in the air, something or
other overlaid by strong disinfectant, and I began to
feel afraid.  But dad said "Come on, Steve, lie
down... Like this....."  He lowered himself onto the
table, belly up, with his ass over the edge and his
feet resting on the floor.  I was unsure, scared,
even, but with dad there it must be OK, so I did the
same thing on the other table, almost shivering as the
cold steel touched my back.

The niggas came over and picked up our feet!  I was so
surprised, but dad was lying there calmly as they
raised our legs and pushed them apart, back towards
our heads.  So I just accepted it,  even though I knew
my most private and intimate part was being exposed to
them.  One nigga held my left foot, one dad's right
foot, and the third one held my right foot and dad's
left, together.  I was not exactly scared, I suppose -
more really, really worried about what was going to
happen, and dad must have known this as he reached out
his hand, and I did the same and he clasped mine
firmly as we lay there.  "It's OK, Steve - this
doesn't hurt, honest!", he said.  "But you must lie
still whilst the niggas do their work.  OK, son?"


"Yes, dad", I muttered, as, to tell you the truth, I
was a bit worried that my teeth might begin to chatter
or my voice to break, as I was feeling so unsure of
what was happening.  But then when the fourth nigga
started work on me - well....  Look, it's not that it
hurt or anything, but it was the complete humiliation
of having another guy holding my dick and fondling my
balls as I lay there.  I started to whimper a bit, but
dad gripped my hand more tightly and said "OK, Steve,
just stay calm.  It's not going to hurt, honest - I've
had this done lots of times..."

And then the nigga began to clip away at my pubes with
scissors, and when he'd done that, he used a big
shaving brush to cover everything in foam - it
tickles, I can tell you! And of course when he
approached me with the big cut-throat razor, I wasn't
all that worried as I realised what he was going to
do:  and he did it very well, too, taking infinite
care not to cause me any pain or discomfort as he
rolled and squeezed my balls around in my sac so he
could stretch the skin tight and shave the hairs off!
Mind you, when he did the same thing to the area
behind my balls and up to my asshole, I really hated
it - the niggas pushed my legs ever further backwards
so my butt was raised right up to give him access, and
I felt so exposed, then, as the shaving brush
slathered the whole area in foam. I wanted to almost
laugh as it tickled so much, and the scraping of the
razor as he oh so carefully removed all the hair from
around my asshole was actually somehow erotic - I felt
my dick starting to go hard, and the niggas all
laughed as they said that often happened to guys in
this situation.

They left me lying here then as they did the same
thing to dad, and I couldn't really understand why
they didn't let me get up.  But when they'd finished
with his shaving, I found out - the nigga who was
doing all the work wheeled over what I now know was an
enema cart.  He rested one big black hand on my belly,
as if to control me, as he murmured "Now, young Steve,
you just lie quiet as we start to clean you out.  I've
warmed the nozzle, and the water's warm.... But it can
be a bit strange first time... Just  lie still, and
don't worry - I've done this lots of times before, and
I've never lost a guy yet."

The first time someone tries to stick something up
your ass it's awful.  He might have warmed the nozzle,
and it was shiny steel and greased to make it slide
easily, but even so I hated it as he gently pressed on
it to get it in me.  Then, as the water started to
flow, it felt so odd- not hurting exactly, but you're
just not used to tuff flowing in to you and starting
to swell you up, are you?  The nigga kept his hand on
my belly as it rose up, and then said "That's enough.
Now I'm going to take the nozzle out and I want you
just to lie there and hold it all in, whilst I do your
daddy.  OK?"

I muttered a yes, and almost freaked out at the
sensation of the nozzle being pulled out of my ass -
it was like taking a huge crap, only much more so, and
yet somehow different.  It wasn't so bad at first and
I just lay there as the nigga filled dad up, but soon
the kind of cramping pains you get when you've got
diarrhoea started.  I called out, saying they had to
let me go as I needed the bathroom, and dad said "Just
hold it, Steve....", and the nigga came back over to
me, dragging the enema cart behind him.    He pulled
something up from the lower shelf and there was the
kind of sucking sound you hear at the dentist when he
turns on the mouthwash thing, and something was
pressed against my ass.

"OK, Steve, fire away! Let go!  The funnel's in
place", the nigga called out cheerily, as if it was
the most natural thing in the world.  Look, I don't
know if you've ever had to do it, but however badly
your guts are cramping, you just can' take a dump with
other guys watching, can you?  Somehow I was almost
frozen, and the nigga evidently knew this as he began
to massage my swollen belly gently, crooning quietly
and telling me everything was OK.  There comes a
point, of course,  when you can bear it no longer and
I just had to crap - but  I was surprised by the
violence with which my body expelled the water and
stuff down through that suction tube into the cart.

They did dad next, and now I understood why the
disinfectant smell was hovering in the air when we
came in - it was to mask the smell of our shit which
pervaded the place as there wasn't a perfect seal
between the funnel thing and our asses.

It took four "flushes" of the water through us before
the nigga declared us "ready", and they lowered our
legs and we were allowed to stand up.  I looked at
dad, and he looked at me, and kind of grinned.  "You
do take after me, Steve!", he said, as if joking would
somehow make it better.  "Look at you now you can see
your dick properly - we're proper men in our family!"
Well, if what I could see of dad was anything to go
by, I understood what he meant: they'd trimmed the
forest of thick wiry pubes back so it no longer went
across from hip to hip, and what was left was much
reduced in length.  His dick stood out proud and
visible now, lying on top of balls which were so much
more apparent now they'd been shaved clean , as they
hung there.  I knew I must look the same, and the
nigga told dad and me to sit on the table now, and
they went through a whole range of stuff on us - some
I didn't mind at all, like having my hair cut
(although I'd been proud of my luxuriant thick hair,
worn fashionably long, and now it was cropped close to
my skull, as dad always wore his.  I'd always assumed
that was because he didn't want to get his hair all
soaked in sweat as he worked, but now I saw the real
reason).    Some of it was pretty terrible, though - I
mean, a grown man doesn't have another one to cut his
toenails and finger nails, does he?  Or to clean out
his ears with those cotton bud things, or scrape
around inside his nose?  For fuck's sake, if they'd
just given me a tissue or something I could have
cleaned my own snot out!

Dad and I stood there then with the four niggas, and I
have to say we had nothing to be ashamed off - I mean,
at school we'd always joked about the size of nigga
dicks, and the way that they had good bodies because
of their breeding and so on, but dad and me could
stand comparison easily.  Dad and the head nigga
slapped hands again, and dad didn't seem to be
embarrassed at being naked with them, so I suppose
that made it a bit easier for me, and when the nigga
led us across the room in to what was clearly a sauna,
I began to cheer up -  we had one of these at school,
and sometimes we were allowed in after a particularly
hard game, to "loosen up".

The nigga opened the door and dad and I went in, but I
soon realised this wasn't like the one at school - for
one thing, the niggas outside locked the door, so we
were trapped inside it until they chose to let us out.
 And for another, you didn't tip water over the
"coals" when you weren't sweating enough - the niggas
controlled a spray from outside, and it soon became
obvious that they were going to keep the humidity up
at the maximum, whatever we wanted and however much we
were sweating.  All dad and I could do was just sit
there on the hot pine, in that kind of companionable
nakedness guys have in saunas.

"Dad, what's going on?  Why have you got a slave mark
on you... Why...?"

"Steve, look, I'm sorry.  I should have told you
before.  But a the years went by and everything seemed
to be going OK, your mom and I just couldn't get
around to telling you.  Look, you know how they
reintroduced slavery for serious crimes, years ago?
Well, the numbers fell right off, of course, and the
jails gradually emptied.  Only the niggas, who were
into drug dealing and such, kept getting caught and
enslaved, and that's why almost all the slaves today
are niggas.  In fact, 'nigga' almost means the same as
'slave', doesn't it?    There are white slaves, of
course, but not many of them, and most people simply
don't even think that a white guy can be a slave - but
I'm one of the stupid ones who got caught, and was
enslaved."

"What did you do, dad?"

"Oh, something completely stupid.  I mean, I knew the
risks.  And that made it somehow even more exciting.,
There was this girl I really fancied at school - and
the fact that she was 'forbidden' just made it all the
more exciting.  So we met, one thing led to another,
and of course I fucked her.  She was only fifteen but
looked and acted as if she was nineteen, and that was
part of her attraction as I was sixteen, the same age
a you are now, and I liked the idea of being seen with
someone older and more sophisticated.  But she told
her parents when they were rowing about something or
other,  and she used the fact that she was getting
fucked by a boy to try to get them to see that she was
'grown up'.  The sky fell in -  I was an 'adult', even
though much less experienced than she was, and they
enslaved me."

"I was lucky, really - there aren't a lot of young
white slaves, especially not good looking ones like
me.  They fetch very high prices, and they're usually
destined for the sex industry -  a lot of those blacks
who have made it into the professions and such and are
rich like the idea of fucking a young white guy, and I
might have expected to have ended up in a brothel for
some years.  But the old Colonel, the Colonel's
father, was  at the courthouse on the  day I was
sentenced, and when they stripped my clothes off me
and paraded me around the courtroom after sentence was
passed  - that's the tradition, you know - he liked
what he saw."

"He went to the auction - I'll tell you about just how
humiliating that was some day, and bid for me, brought
me here and 'apprenticed' me to his current blacksmith
so that I got a good training.  And then he bought
your mother, and told us we were to breed new slaves
for him."

"Dad!", I burst out.  "You mean mom's a slave, too?
And you didn't meet her, court her, and marry her for
love...."

"Steve, it doesn't matter.  Sure, we were put
together, and at first every night we were locked in a
cage by the blacksmith, locked in together, naked.
And of course you can imagine what happened - I'm a
virile guy, and there's no way I could sleep with a
woman, particularly not a real looker like your
mother, without wanting to fuck her!   Once the
doctors told the Colonel that I'd 'done my duty' and
you were on the way, they would have separated us, but
we both begged the Colonel to be allowed to stay
together... And he did.  Just because your mom and I
met like that it doesn't mean we don't really love
each other, Steve.  And the problem has always been to
 stop breeding new kids - it's not that we don't have
sex, you know!  It's been a real problem over the year
s to hold back at those times of the month to try to
stop producing more kids - we're never allowed condoms
or the pill or anything, as the Colonel wanted lots of
young slaves to sell.  Still, at least he lets us keep
you all with us - you may have seen that the
piccaninnies on the plantation are taken from their
mothers after they're weaned and are bought up
communally in the nurseries.  The Colonel thought that
allowing us to bring up you kids 'naturally' would
produce 'nicer' offspring, in general."

"Dad, you mean you're happy to do this - just to be
breeders for the Colonel!"  I just couldn't keep the
note of astonishment, and disapproval, out of my
voice.

"No, son, of course I'm not!  But what other choice is
there?  I'm a slave, your mother's a slave, and
there's no escape these days, you know.  Without
'papers' we couldn't get a job or anything.  And if we
didn't breed for him, he'd just sell your mom, or me,
or both of us - and then what would happen?  Do you
want your mom to be sold into some brothel?  Or me for
that matter?  And what about all you kids?  Do you
think the little ones want our family broken up?  It
may not be much, but at least we try to make you
happy."

"But dad, what's going to happen now?"

"Steve, just obey the Colonel.  Your future's entirely
in his hands.  He owns you.  And now your sixteen,
there are certain things he can do to an adult that he
can't do to a kid..."

I gulped, as the realisation was dawning on me.  "You
mean..... I'm a slave?"

"Yes, Steve.  And all your brothers and sisters.  The
offspring of a slave is a slave, you know."

"Dad, why didn't you tell me?"

"We wanted you to have a happy childhood, Steve.  To
grow up 'normal'.  We always knew this day would come,
of course, when you'd be sixteen and a man.  And then
you'd be taken from us  - but then, if you were free
and went away to college, or got married, or moved to
another part of the country, you'd have 'gone' one
day, as all self-confident men do anyway.  So it
seemed best to let you enjoy life - and I think it's
not been too bad, has it?"

He sounded so anxious, so worried, that I put out my
hand for his, and said "No, dad.  Thanks.  You did the
right thing."  Well, even if I wasn't so certain, it
didn't cost much to say it, did it?  Still it  was
bit creepy - all those nights I'd listened through the
wall as they fucked away, and all the time they were
trying to avoid making new slaves for the Colonel!

We might have gone on talking in that intimate
atmosphere, but the niggas opened the door and we were
able to get out - you really do feel great after a
sauna, don't you?  And the shower they gave us was
even better - I've never felt so squeaky-clean in my
life.  "There you are", the chief nigga said to dad,
"As clean inside and out as you possibly can be.  I
sure do envy the Colonel having two such hunks
tonight!"

I looked at dad with alarm, but he just shook his head
gently at me as if to tell me to keep quiet and stay
calm.  He put his arm around me again, and that was a
comfort, and we stood there until Mr Stryker came back
for us.   Dad chatted to the niggas and it seemed as
if they knew him well, and in a break in the
conversation I asked him how he knew about all this
stuff.  He looked really embarrassed, and half turned
away from me as he said "Well, over the years,
occasionally... Especially with the old Colonel....
I'd be sent for and cleaned up like this.... And then,
well, you know...."

"No, dad, I don't know.  What then?  Why is all this
stuff done to us?"

Dad really didn't want to answer, but at that moment
Mr. Stryker reappeared and curtly told the niggas to
stop wasting time and get the place cleaned up, then
told dad and me to follow him.  We went  back up the
service stairs and back along the grand corridor, and
perhaps I was getting used to being naked by now, as
it didn't feel quite so odd.  The young nigga at the
door knocked and then, as we were waiting, I saw him
giving my dick a real once-over, and he was nodding
appreciatively.  But then we heard the order to open
the door, and Mr Stryker led us in.

The Colonel must have been having dinner whilst we
were being "prepared", as he said casually "Excellent!
 You two are even better than before, and I'm glad I
skipped desert as I think I'm going to enjoy this more
to finish the evening with...."

He looked at Mr. Stryker and told him he could go, and
I saw Mr. Stryker look concerned, but the Colonel said
"Oh go on, Stryker!  There's no danger.   I've been
alone with the blacksmith before, and he's never
caused trouble to with my father or me.  And I'm sure
he's capable of controlling young Steve, even though
he looks like a strong young man!"

Mr. Stryker kind of saluted, and turned and left, and
the Colonel said "Come and sit on the chesterfield by
me, Steve.  And you, blacksmith, go and stand over
there, in the corner, and I'll call you if I need
you."

I was  surprised that dad seemed almost keen to obey
the Colonel's order, but he did, and then the Colonel
kind of put his arm along the back of the
chesterfield, and repeated "Here, Steve, right by me."

So what was I to do?  For one thing, I'd always been
taught that you should be polite to grown-ups, and the
Colonel had invited me to sit.  It seemed odd to be
naked next to him in his expensive casual clothes, and
the leather of the chesterfield felt cold against my
bare butt and back, but I sat there and did my best to
relax.  The Colonel picked up the remote thing that
I'd seen Rob use to control his TV when I was
visiting, and pressed a button, and the TV lit up.
There was a scene showing of a young guy, in his
mid-twenties, I'd guess, vigorously fucking a girl on
a bed as another girl lay beside them playing with her
tits!

I felt myself going erect, and the Colonel must have
seen as he asked "You like this, don't you, Steve?
I've heard that you're quite one for the ladies!
Which one of those two beauties would you like to be
with - the one he's fucking now, or the one he's going
to fuck in a few minutes?  Which one reminds you of
your girlfriend, Steve?"

Desperate to try to say something in the hope of
distracting myself from the feeling of becoming erect,
I mumbled "I don't have a girlfriend at the moment,
sir."

"But you have been with girls, haven't you, Steve?
Even though it's not strictly legal until today?  Come
on, you can tell me - I'm not a cop, or anything."

I was flushing as I said "Yes, sir.  Some of the girls
at school...."

"Excellent, Steve.  I like a man with experience."

I was watching the film intently now as it was quite
exciting to see the guy really pounding away as the
second girl now stood behind him and started to rub
her breasts all over his sweating back.  I knew I was
completely erect, as I was really turned on, and I
could feel my dick really straining.  I prayed that
the Colonel wouldn't see, or wouldn't say anything, at
least, as there was no real way I could hide my dick
as I sat there naked.  And then I felt it - the
colonel's hand resting on my thigh, well above my
knee.  His fingers were warm and slightly sweaty on
the tender skin on the inside of my leg, and his hand
was moving upwards towards my dick.  Although he'd
"inspected" me before we went down to be "prepared",
having his hand advance on my dick and balls like this
was too much, and I almost shouted "No, please, sir,
stop it!"

"Oh come on, Steve, it's only my hand...."

"No, sir, please.... Don't!"  As I said this, I
gripped the Colonel's wrist with my hand, and went to
pull it away from me.

"Let me go, Steve!"

"No, sir, please don't touch me like that....
Please....."

The Colonel seemed to blaze with anger.  He shouted
"Blacksmith!  Get over here and stop your son before I
call for the guards and have him really punished."

Dad came racing over, and when he saw me still
gripping the Colonel's hand, said quietly, in that
authoritative way he has sometimes, "Steve, let the
Colonel's hand go.  It's absolutely forbidden to touch
a free man unless he orders you to.  Come on, son,
relax, calm down... You don't want to be punished, do
you?"

I did as dad told me to, and the Colonel looked at him
kind of intently, and said softly "Excellent,
blacksmith.  That's the way a son should obey his
father.  And I'll forgive young Steve, at least this
time, as he probably doesn't know the rules.  But I'll
expect you to teach him, and he'd better learn from
you, and quickly, if he's to avoid a whipping.  Do I
make myself clear?"

I didn't like this talk of whipping, as I'd often been
to the regular weekly sessions where really bad niggas
were strung up and the public whipmaster came in to
flay them.  The poor guys always shrieked and screamed
until they passed out, and their backs were bloody
tattered things when the man was done.  The thought
that I might be one of those guys on the whipping
frame terrified me - I'd always assumed it could never
to happen to me, as I wasn't a nigga - but I could see
that the Colonel could have me whipped as a slave, if
he wanted.

Dad nodded, anyway, and the Colonel went on "So,
blacksmith, just this first time I think you'd better
sit there next to him, and control young Steve."

"Yes, sir", dad replied, and came and sat next to me
on the chesterfield, so that I was between him and the
Colonel.  Dad put his arm along the back of the
chesterfield and kind of pulled me towards him.  "Now,
Steve, behave!", he told me, looking straight into my
eyes.  "No resistance, understand?"

I nodded, and as that video played, the Colonel again
put his hand on my leg, and started to move it upwards
towards my dick and balls.  He leaned over as he got
closer, and with his other hand began to stroke my
right nip, and I started to moan and I knew my
erection was now rock hard.  But when I felt his
fingers stroking the shaft of my dick, and then moving
up to start sliding my 'skin on and off my dick head,
I said softly "Sir, please, no.... "

The Colonel carried on, though, and the more he played
with my nip and teased away at my 'skin, the less I
liked it - although the sensations flooding my body
were almost overpowering, somehow I just knew it
wasn't right.  "No, please, sir, stop!", I said again
and tried to twist my body away from him, but dad held
me firmly by the shoulders, and almost whispered in my
ear "Keep calm, Steve...  It's OK, son....".

"No, dad, please, make him stop...."

The Colonel seemed to lose patience at this point as
he stopped and took his hands away, and looked at dad.
 "Well, blacksmith, you've seen that I've tried to be
nice and gentle with the boy, and he doesn't
appreciate it.  I think he needs to start learning,
and learning fast, what happens to a slave who
disobeys me!"

"No, please sir..." It was dad now pleading.  "Please,
sir, don't order him to be whipped, or even caned..."

"Very well, blacksmith, I'll not punish him harshly -
yet!  But if the behaviour persists, it may be the
only way, as I seem to remember you found out when you
first came to my father.  But the boy needs to learn,
and the only way you slaves learn is by physical
reinforcement of the basic messages, and I can't let
young Steve here believe that it is satisfactory for
him to argue with his owner.  So I think you should
tan that hide of his - put him across your knee, and
spank him six times."

"Sir, please, no.... Give the boy another chance", dad
said, not sounding too hopeful.

"You too, blacksmith?  Why is it so difficult to just
do as you're told?  Now, before I order you both down
for a good whipping...."

I saw dad looking, calculating, almost, and then he
grabbed me.  Before I knew what was happening almost
he'd moved his grip from around my shoulders to hold
the back of my neck, then forced my body down over his
bare thighs.  With his other hand he kind of scooped
at my legs, and before I knew it I was stretched out
across him.  I started to shout and protest, as
there's no way he ought to be doing this to a man my
age - the last time he'd  spanked me was when I'd been
particularly trying to mom all day, and upset all my
kid brothers and sisters, when I was about ten years
old!  I tried to break free, but it was no use as
dad's fingers dug into my neck and held me down, and
then the next moment I really shouted, as dad's hand
came down across my butt with a great "slap" sound.
It wasn't just that it hurt - really hurt, as dad's
got arm muscles like coiled springs from all the work
he does in the smithy - but it was the total
humiliation of it all.  But before I could do anything
about it, there was another, and another....

My dick was pressed under me against dad's powerful
hairy thighs, and I knew that he'd be feeling my
erection pressing into him, and then I felt his
stabbing at my belly as I lay there across him.   But
then it was over and dad released the pressure on my
neck, and I struggled to get to my feet.  I stood
there, erect and ashamed in front of the two men, and
I saw the Colonel was almost laughing!  "Turn around,
Steve", he ordered, "as I want to see that butt of
yours now its nicely warmed up."

I did as I was told, and I'm sure my cheeks were as
red with embarrassment as my butt was from dad's
ministrations.  I could feel my butt throbbing with
the after burn of the spanking, and just knew that it
must be bright red.  I turned back to face them, and
saw dad looking really unhappy at what he'd had to do
to me - I think I understood why he'd done it, to save
me from a worse punishment (and him, too), but
nevertheless I wasn't happy at being so humiliated
like this.

The Colonel looked at dad and said "Well done!  It's
good to see a father still able to discipline his son
properly.  Now, I think I'd like to see young Steve
jerk off, and we need his cum, as you know.... But I
think it might encourage you both to 'bond' a little
more if you did it."  He looked at me and went on
"Come on, Steve, back in-between your dad and me...
The leather will soothe that hot butt of yours."

I really didn't want to, but what choice did I have?
Dad seemed to be under the Colonel's control, and
would certainly beat me again if I refused, so
gingerly, well aware of how tender my butt now was, I
sank back onto the chesterfield.  Dad put his arm
around my shoulder again to kind of hold me there next
to him - or perhaps it may have been to give me some
sort of encouragement or support.  Then the Colonel
said quietly "Come on, blacksmith - I haven't got all
night:  let's see that boy of yours shoot a load."

Dad turned to face me, and looked pretty anguished,
but he reached down for my dick, and began to stroke
it.  "No, dad.... No, please don't....", I said
quietly, but dad just carried on, and said quite
calmly "Steve, be quiet.  Just enjoy it...".

Well, actually, if it hadn't been for the Colonel
watching, I might have enjoyed it quite a lot -  I
always wanted to be close to dad, but he was never
very physically demonstrative to me as he was always
with mom.  And now here he was, our naked bodies
pressed companionably close together so I could feel
the warmth of him and the sweat on both of us made it
seem even more intimate.  And dad really did know how
to jerk a guy off - he was so much better than Rob
when we'd tried it,  but not as good as doing it
myself, of course:  although I liked the way he slid
my 'skin over my head, alternating this with gripping
my shaft firmly and stroking his thumb over my piss
slit.  Mind you, dad's heavy, work-calloused hands
were a bit rough, but somehow the excitement of having
this done to me took over, and I just couldn't help
moaning with the sheer excitement of what was gong on.
 I couldn't even say "No" when the Colonel joined in,
stroking my balls as dad jerked me off, and then
putting his hand on dad's as he worked at me.

I heard the Colonel say "Point him down, he's
cumming!", and I knew I was about to shoot.  And then
there was that fantastic sensation as my dick started
spasming, pumping my cum out. I looked down, and the
Colonel was holding a big crystal ashtray under my
dick, which dad had angled downwards, and the glass
was covered in a huge pool of my thick cum.  But I
started to squirm as dad continued to jerk at me, and
my cries of "No, stop, please....", were drowned out
by the Colonel's insistence to "Keep on jerking him,
blacksmith, as I want him completely drained".  You
know how it is when you've shot - well, for me at
least, my dick goes incredibly sensitive - and
although it's a kind of pleasure, it's also extremely
uncomfortable, and I almost arched my body to try to
escape dad's hand, and was  calling out "No...... Oh,
please..... Oh fuck.....".

We all slumped back eventually on the chesterfield,
and dad took his hand off me, although he still kept
his arm around me as if to comfort me now.  He looked
at me, a worried look on his face, but all I could do
was grin now as in spite of the humiliation and
everything, it had been a pretty good - no, great -
experience.  I was breathing hard, and there was
almost a rivulet of sweat running down between my pecs
and across my belly, and dad used his hand - the one
he'd just jerked me off with - to rub at it, as if to
make me more comfortable.  We both smiled at each
other now, and I think I really felt like a man for
the first time , to have had another man, a big, tough
man like dad, treat me like this.  But as we sat there
like that I heard the Colonel say "Excellent, Steve!
Now,  you are a slave, and the first thing an owner
does to a new slave, or to his slave once he's a man,
is to take his cherry.  Do you know what that means,
Steve?"

"No, sir."

"Well, Steve, you learned about sex, sex with women,
at school, don't you?  What they don't tell you is
that although sex with women is fine, and a lot of men
really enjoy it, and of course we have to do it to
continue the human race, there's something better,
much better.  I think they ought to teach all young
men in high school about it, but they clearly don't.
You see, Steve, a man can fuck a woman, as you've been
doing.  But he can also fuck another man.  And it's
very enjoyable indeed - well, at least for the man
who's doing the fucking!  And although some men enjoy
being fucked, a lot of them don't.  And do you know
what, Steve?  I think you're like your dad in that
respect - I don't think you're going to like being
fucked at all!  But I'll tell you another thing, too -
that only makes it even more exciting for the man
who's doing the fucking.  Combining the fun of sex
with the joy of totally controlling another man is the
ultimate experience."

I listened with horror. I mean, although the Colonel
was right and  they didn't teach it to us at school,
there was a lot of stories circulating about men
pushing their dicks up other guys' asses.  I'd always
wondered what would have happened if Rob and me had
gone further than jerking each other off - but I think
we'd been a it scared by these stories we'd heard.
But the Colonel was continuing "So, Steve, let's get
you ready... Now, as it's your first time, and you're
pretty strong for a sixteen year old,  I think I'd
better take you on the 'horse', as we call it."

He looked over at dad, whose grip on my shoulders had
steadily increased, whether it was to comfort me or to
stop me running away, I don't know.  "You know where
the 'horse' is, don't you, blacksmith?  Why don't you
go and drag it over here, where there's more room?"

Dad got to his feet and went to the far corner of the
room, and half carried, half dragged back towards us
an antique-looking cabinet about three feet high.   It
seemed to be made of solid dark walnut or something
like that,  standing on four very solid looking legs.
Dad put it down and opened the top, which was hinged
and split in half, to reveal a leather covered padded
top about four feet long and eighteen inches wide.  I
wondered how dad knew that this was what the Colonel
meant, and how he'd known to open it up like this.

The Colonel got to his feet and held out his hand to
me, to join him.  He moved me to the cabinet thing,
and said quietly "This is the 'horse', Steve.  You'll
soon get used to it, as I'm sure you and I are going
to have several interesting sessions here...  It's a
good one, as you'll see - been in my family for
generations.  Most of the ladies who come here for
parties never realise that this cabinet holds such
potential delights!  Now, just go and lie on the top,
belly down - it's padded, so it's not uncomfortable.
Leave your dick hanging over the end and keep your
feet on the floor..."

"Please...",  I said desperately.  But it was dad, not
the Colonel,  who replied  "Steve, do as you're told!
Remember what I said, as we were coming here.  Don't
worry, son - it will soon be over."

End Of Part Two