Date: Sat, 3 Dec 2005 14:26:12 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Steve Grows Up, Part Six

Steve Grows Up

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part 6


Well, as you know, I like to give dick.  So after a
decent time of fondling and stroking Sam, I half
pushed him down into the straw, and began to feel for
his hole so that I could massage and stretch it.  Sam
started to moan as I did so, and I whispered "So, Sam,
I jerked you off, but now it's your turn to please me.
 So down on your knees, and get those shoulders into
the straw and your ass in the air...."

Sam did as I told him, and to leave me free to enjoy
his body I told him to reach back and spread his butt
cheeks - I positioned myself, and began to push in and
then once I was past his sphincter, I lay forward onto
him, holding his shoulders with my hands, so that I
could give lots of little short gentle fucks.  Sam
moaned and moaned with pleasure, and I was just
approaching my climax when my own ass was attacked!  I
suddenly felt hands on my butt, prising me apart, and
then a hot dick nudging at me.  I stopped, and looked
around, and there was Dob's huge black body right
behind me.

"Fuck off!", I shouted at him.  But the nigga just put
his huge arms around me as I knelt there and squeezed
me back towards him.  I could feel his dick stabbing
at me, and then his harsh African voice rasped "You're
one of us, Steve, and I've always wanted a bit of
white ass - and a slave can fuck another one.  Come
on, boy - open up, before I have to hurt you..."

"Fuck you, Dob - let me go...", I shouted, and by now
I'd slipped out of Sam and was kneeling there
struggling, desperately trying to free myself.  I'd
been trying to tear his big hands away from me,
completely without success, of course ,as he was so
much bigger and stronger than me.  So in desperation I
tired another tack - I relaxed and stopped struggling,
and reached behind myself as if I was going to spread
myself and facilitate his access.  I heard Dob give a
sigh of expectation, as he obviously thought he had
won - but this turned to a shrill scream of rage as I
gripped his big balls which were hanging there right
behind me.

I carried on gripping him, and twisted around to face
him.  "So it's OK for slaves to fuck each other, is
it, Dob?  That's good - as when I saw that big ass of
yours and those long, long legs it really set my dick
twitching...."

"Let me go, white boy..."

"No, Dob - you were going to fuck me, but I've decided
that Sam can wait, and I'll have you instead...."

Still gripping his balls tightly so that he knew I was
in control, I pushed him backwards, down to lie on his
back on the straw.  I was kneeling between those long,
black legs and looking at him across his wonderfully
muscled body - completely hairless, as it seemed that
was the way Mr. Stryker liked his slaves.  I
remembered thinking how well the lack of body hair
added to the look of this big man - the muscles in his
belly and his pecs were so wonderfully delineated when
you could see them like this, especially as they were
all shining in the dim light as he was covered in a
faint sheen of sweat.

"OK, big boy - pull your legs back and grab your
ankles", I told him, and then, when he hesitated, I
gave his balls a little extra squeeze, causing him to
give a startled cry of pain.  "Do as I tell you,
nigga!  Do you want to get hurt?"

Slowly he raised first one leg and then the other and
moved his feet up and back, grabbing his ankles as I'd
told him.  Thank the fuck for that, I thought to
myself, as I'm not sure what I'd have done if he'd not
obeyed - I mean, you wouldn't really want to hurt a
fellow slave, would you?

His big, pink puckered asshole was tantalisingly
displayed now, and my dick was throbbing at the
thought of it.  I kept my eyes locked on his and
guided my dick down onto it by touch, and then pushed
forward.  I saw him gritting his teeth, as if he was
determined to stop me entering him, and thought about
squeezing his balls again - but I knew I had to be
careful, as if I overdid it he might just throw me off
him totally and risk a sharp sudden pain.  So I just
pulled back a bit and stabbed forward, slamming my
dick head at him.

I wasn't experienced in these things at that time so I
was amazed as I saw Dob's expression change totally -
as I carried stabbing at him his eyes kind of rolled,
and his face, previously knotted in that determination
to stop me, seemed to soften.  I played on this, and I
lowered my tone - always a good thing, I think, to
show you're serious  - and murmured to him "Good boy,
Dob... Now, you like this really,  I can tell.  So
just relax..... Come on, boy.... Push out, pretend
you're going to take a crap...."

And that was all it took, really!  Once I had my dick
in him, it was as if he was totally in my power.  I
was able to let go of his balls and focus on fucking
him, all the time watching his face and observing how
his expression changed as I varied the length of my
stroke and the force with which I slammed in to him.
And then when I leaned forward and grabbed his nips
and pulled them, hard, it was even better:  he was
moaning and crying, not in pain, but in the sheer joy
of the experience I was giving him.  I felt fantastic,
too - unbelievably good, and I wanted it to go on for
ever.   I had this huge black man totally in my power-
he had at least six inches and sixty or seventy pounds
on me, and he'd tried to fuck me against my will:  yet
here he was, skewered on my dick, with me absolutely
controlling whether he was sighing with passion or
moaning with that mixture of pain and pleasure that a
hard fuck gives you.

I'd remembered reading somewhere about trying
different things, and so I started to rotate my hips
gently when I was buried in him, as if to widen his
hole - and it was magic!  He started to cry aloud, and
 the sheen of sweat all over him turned into big
droplets as I worked away.  It couldn't go on, of
course - my own excitement just carried me over the
edge, and I felt my balls beginning to contract, and
then my cum shot up into him.  I heard my own cry of
triumph and ecstasy as I finished, and I was so
exhausted that I just slumped forward onto him,
revelling in the heat of the body and the smell of the
sweat of this man that I'd conquered.  I got a bit
worried as his legs wrapped around me as I knew that
those powerful muscles could easily crush me, but he
seemed he needed to hold me tight, to pull me almost
further into him.  We lay together, breathing hard,
and then we both started to laugh, just quietly, not
uproariously.

I remembered what dad had told me about what men like
really, and it seemed to me that big, tough, strong
Dob had really always wanted to take a man's dick but
had been constrained by his image to have to fuck
instead.  I pulled out of him, and pushed upwards so
he unwound his legs from me, then knelt there, looking
down at him. "OK, big boy?  Is that what you needed?"

He just looked at me, and so I said "When you're asked
a question, you reply, boy!"  A tingle ran down my
spine as I said this, as the thought of me, a sixteen
year old, controlling and dominating a big man like
this was an excitement in itself.  Dob looked up at
me, and half whispered "Thank you, sir."

I went and sat by Sam then, and he put his arm around
me.  "So you won't be fucking me, Steve, will you
now?"

"Oh yes, Sam.  Dob was just a warm-up!  Just give my
balls a few minutes to recover...."

Well, it took more than a few minutes - about half an
hour, I suppose.  And then when I'd fucked Sam, it
seemed silly to get up from the warm comfort of the
straw and the two niggas' bodies around me, so we
settled down to sleep.  It felt absolutely amazing to
be sandwiched in-between these two muscled guys, the
smell of the straw, sweat and cum all making an
intoxicating cocktail in my nose;  and, of course, as
we all moved constantly throughout the night,
adjusting our positions as you do, I kept drifting in
and out of sleep and feeling their hard muscles
against me.  It must have been about three in the
morning - I'd just heard the church clock in the
village strike - when I knew we were all awake
simultaneously.  Dob's dick was rock hard and was kind
of wedged along the crack in my butt, and Sam had
turned around to face me so that our dicks were
pressed into each others bellies.  "Fuck me again,
Steve.  Please." He whispered, but I was just too
tired.

Instead I shuffled a bit so that our dicks could
stretch to their maximum, then held them together.
Even when you're close to another guy, really close,
feeling his body all along you and around you, there's
something very special about having your dicks in
contact all along their length, I think.  Sam and  I
were both sighing with excitement, and when I started
to stroke us, still together, it wasn't long before we
both shot, covering our bellies and pubes with each
others cum.    I felt really sorry for Dob then, and
rolled over so that I was facing him.  His dick really
was a monster, and I stroked it almost reverentially.
Dob's breathing got stronger as he woke up more, and
then, as I continued to stimulate him, I was rewarded
by the feeling of his big spurt of cum hitting my
belly.

We all fell asleep again then, in an unruly tangle of
limbs and bodies, and I don't think I've ever slept as
well before.  Too well, in fact, as I was brought from
deep sleep to full wakening by something sharp - well,
that's what it felt like at first.  You know how an
external thing can be incorporated into your dreams,
well, it was a bit like that - I dreamed that I was
cutting something and the knife slipped and hurt my
arm, and then my back, and then my butt.... And then I
went through that stage when you start to realise it
wasn't a dream at all, but something really
happening.....  Mr. Stryker was standing there with a
tawse, slashing down at our bodies and calling us lazy
animals for not being up and ready for work!
Evidently our night-time exertions had totally tired
us and we'd slept through the ponies' wake up call.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to avoid the tips of
the tawse as Mr. Stryker continued to slash out at us,
and he sneered at me.  "So, Steve, you're a real slave
at last!  Sleeping in the slave barn, and fucking with
the other animals!"

I was hopping around trying to pull my boxers on, and
Mr. Stryker almost deliberately lashed out with the
tawse at my bare butt.  "Leave all that, boy!  Just
pick up your stuff and get out of here and back to the
forge, to start work!", he snapped.  So I had to run
through the barn naked, with all the other guys in
their stalls laughing at me as my dick bobbed up and
down.  I had to risk disobeying Mr. Stryker, though,
as I didn't want to arrive home like that, and once I
felt certain I was out of sight, I sat down on the
grass still damp with the morning dew and pulled my
clothes and boots on.

It was breakfast time by the time I got back to the
forge, and mom hated people to be late for meals so
there was no time to change or anything, and I went
straight in to the kitchen.  All the others were
already there, and dad had almost finished his bowl of
stuff.  Mom looked at me, and sniffed the air
suspiciously.  "Steven!  You haven't showered this
morning  Or shaved...."

"Sorry, mom, I overslept..."

"Why didn't you put your clean clothes on at least?"

"Sorry, mom, I didn't see them...."

"I left them on your bed, Steve.  You couldn't fail to
see them...."

Cliff let out a loud guffaw, and said to the world in
general "If you ask me, mom, Steve hasn't been in his
bed!  I reckon he was off somewhere, sexing.... those
girls from his school...."

"Clifford!  I won't have you talking about things like
that at the table."  Cliff knew he'd gone too far when
mom said this, but just sat there, almost sniggering.

"Steven, could your brother be right?  Were you out
all night?"

"Mom, please... I'm a grown man... You can't ask me
things like that..."

"Steven, I'm your mother!  And whilst you live under
my roof, you'll obey my rules.  And one of them is, as
you know, that you do not go out at night without
permission."

"Mom, I'm not a kid any more.  I'm a s...."  I almost
said it, but stopped just in time and went on
"...grown man.  Those rules are for Cliff and the
kids.  Now I've got my own place in the forge, I'll
come and go as I please...."

Dad sprang to his feet, knocking over his chair.
"Steve, outside.  Now!", he snapped.

"Dad...."

"Steve, I said outside.  Now.  Get yourself outside,
now, before it gets any worse...."

I saw the look of rage and anger in dad's eyes, and
turned and went outside, followed closely by dad.  He
grabbed me by the arm and shook me.  "You may be a
man, Steve, but I won't have you being rude to your
mother."

"I wasn't being rude.  She shouldn't pry."

"Go in and apologise to your mom, son.  And then go
and get cleaned up - look at you:  not shaved, your
clothes all scuffed, and you stink of sweat and...."
Dad stopped and I added

"...yes, dad.  And of cum. I've been fucking, dad.
That's what men do.  So if you want me to go and
apologise to mom I will.  I'll tell her I'm sorry I
overslept  and that made me late for breakfast as I
had such a horny time with two other guys last night
that it made me exhausted."

I though t dad was going to hit me.  He clenched is
fists and took a step towards me, but I just stood my
ground. He backed down, and kind of shrugged.  "Best
not upset you mom, Steve.  Get over to the forge and
start the fire...."  He grinned at me, and went on "I
suppose you're only young once, and we can wait whilst
you work your way through the sex thing."

"It's not a 'sex thing', dad!  You haven't worked your
way through it!  I can hear you at it every night with
mom, and you seem to do pretty much OK when the
Colonel...."

He did hit me then, and I was sprawled on the ground,
blood streaming from my nose.

"Don't go too far, Steve.  You always try to push it,
don't you?   Now shut up about your mom and me.... If
I ever hear you say anything like that again, I'll
give you the biggest beating you can even imagine.
Now, go and get that fucking fire started...."

Dad and I worked in silence all morning.  Just grunts
like "Fetch me the hammer", or "Blow the fire more".
And I felt sorry for the poor niggas who were being
re-collared that morning as dad wasn't his normal
gentle self with them, but seemed intent on working
out his anger by really bashing the rivets into their
collars.  Then at lunchtime mom came over with the
stuff for us as usual, and she saw us sitting at
opposite ends of the bench, instead of close together
as we generally did.

"I thought I'd got two men around the house now", she
remarked, looking at us and kind of wagging her finger
in mock distress.  "But it looks as if I've got two
kids, two silly squabbling kids! "

"Mom, it's not me....", I began, and she snapped
"Steven, not another word!  If you want to be
considered to be a man, start acting like one.  Go and
sit by your father so I can give you your lunch."

"But mom, it was dad...."

"Steven!  Not another word, if you want to eat.  And
you didn't have any breakfast, did you?  You must be
starving, after working all morning.  Now do as I
say...."

Well, I had those hunger pangs, and I did need
something, so I shuffled along and sat next to dad,
who was kind of scowling.

"That's better!", mom said brightly.  "Both of my big
strong men together, as they should be.  Now, eat
up!".  She gave us our  fried slices of the mush which
is what we normally ate, and then went back to the
house.  Dad and I ate on in silence,  until he said
"We'd better get back to work, Steve."

I said "OK, dad", completely automatically, and
somehow, once the silence had been broken, things were
a lot better. In the afternoon as we talked to each
other as usual about what we were doing.  We both knew
we were in the wrong to some extent, I suppose, but
neither of us was ever going to admit it.

Another bout of fucking with Sam and Dob was in order
that night, I thought, but as we were packing away in
the forge a runner arrived with a message for us.
There wasn't a phone or anything in the house, and  we
obviously didn't run to a cell, so if they wasted to
communicate with us the usual method was to send a
runner like this - a young nigga, who could only have
been sixteen.  There were a couple of them around the
place and I often saw them running around - and they
always did run!  Not jog, run.  The idea was that once
someone had decided to send a message, it was urgent.
So these runners  were all tall, very tall, and very
thin so that they were light on their feet, and it
always seemed to me that they were kept half starved,
as in an effort to keep them slim they were not fed
enough as you could see all their ribs.  Because of
the speed he had to run fast and might be hindered if
his dick and balls were flopping around he was even
allowed to wear something, unlike a normal nigga - his
dick and balls were neatly held in a small mesh pouch,
just a triangle of the stuff, held by a string around
his waist and one that went under him and up his ass
crack.

"You're to go to the big house", the lad said to dad.
"You and Steve both.  Now."  He turned and raced off,
probably to deliver another message somewhere else,
and dad looked at me.

"You know what this means, don't you, Steve?  I'm
going to have to fuck you again.  Just run and tell
mom we won't be in to dinner, so she doesn't worry.
And then we'd best go - we don't need anything, after
all, as we're going to be stripped naked as soon as we
get there."

I felt my heart begin to pound and that funny feeling
of excitement building in my stomach.  I didn't much
look forward to being fucked by dad again, but, after
all, the Colonel might let me fuck him afterwards.
And dad was wrong about being made to strip naked -
well, we were showered and shaved and cleaned out by
the four niggas, but then we were given brief "house
servant" tunics to wear - somehow I felt even more
exposed and vulnerable like this than totally buff, as
the hem of the shirt-like garment only just came to
the tip of my dick, and there were broad slits up each
side so that as I walked my thighs were exposed as
high as my waist.  The whole thing, with its deep "V"
neck and total lack of sleeves seemed designed to show
us off, to draw attention to our bodies, rather than
to give us any measure of modesty as clothes should.

We waited outside the door to the Colonel's room,
standing together as if we were trying to provide
shelter for each other from the stares of the slaves
who busied themselves with their comings and goings as
they hurried past us.  I'd got used to wearing my
heavy work boots now, and my are feet felt cold on the
smooth cool tiles, and I kept trying not to think
about sex as I knew the moment my dick started to move
it would poke up the hem of my tunic.

I don't know how long we were there - it could have
bee an half an hour, it could have been more.  But
then, if a master wants to keep a slave standing
around, that's his choice, isn't it?  From the slave's
point of view, it beats working!  Except that for dad
and me we'd almost finished working for the day, and
I was looking forward to my dinner, and then going to
see Sam and Dob.  I wanted to talk to dad to relieve
the boredom, but he told me to keep quiet as the
Colonel didn't like slaves chattering to each other,
so we just stood there and dad showed me how it was
meant to be done - hands clasped neatly behind our
backs, feet a little apart, and head down, looking at
a point about two feet in front of us.  It's really
boring, but, as dad whispered, with practice you can
almost doze off to sleep like that.

When we were allowed in, the Colonel told us to stand
in front of him and I noticed that dad assumed that
"slave rest" position he'd taught me outside, so I
followed suit.  "Well done, blacksmith! The
veterinarian tells me you've obeyed orders and I've
got another slave to look forward to."

"Yes, sir", dad said quietly. As if he didn't know
whether to be ashamed, or proud, of this.

"I shall have to start looking for a mate for you,
Steve", he went on, turning towards me.  "Young men
are at their horniest and most fertile at your age,
and the sooner you start planting the seed and
producing new slaves for me, the better.  I had
thought of putting you out to stud, but I think
there's more to be gained by keeping you here as a
paired breeder, like your mother and father - having
the slaves grow up in a family is so much better for
them, I think.  'Family reared' slaves fetch so much
higher prices than those from the breeding farms."

I just stood there, and the Colonel sounded testy.
"Have you nothing to say?"

"No, sir."

"You're not pleased that I'm going to find you a mate?
 You'd rather the life of a stud, would you?   You'd
rather have endless different women than your chosen
mate?"

"No, sir."

"Which is it?" - he sounded very tetchy now.

"Neither, sir.  I don't want a mate, and I don't want
to stud.  I don't want to produce more slaves at all."

The Colonel just laughed.  "Ah, the idealism of the
young.  I suppose you think it's all wrong, me
breeding from you.  But it doesn't matter, actually,
as you have no choice. Your opinion is worthless.
You'll breed when I tell you, or stud when I tell you,
as you're a slave.  Now, come and sit by me."

I went and sat on the chesterfield as I had the time
before, and of course the short tunic rode up so that
the leather was clammy against my bare butt.
Absolutely without asking, and as if he didn't care,
the Colonel rested his hand on the inside of my thigh,
and smoothly moved it up to begin fondling my balls.

"Now, Steve, what shall we do tonight?  I think I'd
like to sit here and toy with you whilst we see your
dad in action.  Would you like to see him fuck one of
the niggas from the showers, or shall I send for one
of the washerwomen - I haven't seen him with a woman
for some time.  Or shall we just have him jerk off for
us?"

"Sir, please.... You can't ask me to make a choice
like that... He's my dad."

"Steve, I'm not asking you - I'm your owner, remember?
 So I'm telling you.  And anyway you ought not to
think of him as your father - he's a nice piece of
male flesh who I may want you to do things with, and
that's all there is to it.  The fact that one of his
millions of sperm gave rise to you is of no interest
to anyone.  Now, one of the niggas, a washerwoman, or
a nice piece of solo action?"

I thought about it for a moment.  I'd enjoy watching
dad fuck one of the niggas as they'd both got such
superb bodies and would be well worth looking at - but
I remembered dad saying how he didn't much like
actually giving dick, even though he had to.  Perhaps
I could ask the Colonel if the nigga could fuck him
instead.  On the other hand I'd never seen dad fuck a
woman - I'd heard him, through the bedroom wall, but
it might be interesting to actually see him do it:  I
could compare his techniques with my own.  But then,
dad had been on at me today, and perhaps he should be
punished a bit - it would be really humiliating to
have him jerk off as we watched.  So I suggested to
the Colonel that that's what should happen, and the
Colonel told dad to kneel in front of us and get on
with it.

Dad did as he was told, of course, and knelt there,
knees apart.  The Colonel told him to take off his
tunic and a quick pull and it was off over his head,
so dad was totally naked.  He leaned back so his butt
was resting on his heels and his body was sloped
backwards a little, and began.  As he did so, the
Colonel began to stroke my dick and, we both watched
dad as he beat away at himself.    I started to moan
gently and arch my body upwards as if welcoming the
Colonel's hand on my dick, but dad seemed to be in
trouble as he was really beating himself hard, but
seemed to be kind of frustrated.

I looked at the Colonel, and made a little gesture
with my head, seeking his permission to help, and when
he let go of me I slid off the chesterfield and went
and knelt behind dad.  His body was warm against mine
as I pressed myself to him, so I could reach around
and start to jerk him.  I pressed my face into dad's
big strong back as I stroked his dick, my nose filling
with his scent and giving me an incredible sense of
closeness and bonding.  I could feel dad's dick going
harder and harder under my hands, and then he started
to shudder, and I felt his dick give those kind of big
jerks that happen when you've cum, and so I knew he'd
shot.  I let go of his dick and wrapped my arms around
his chest, pressing him close to me, and as my body
rubbed against his my dick was so hard that it was
almost painful, and I was glad that it managed to
nestle just a little between dad's big butt cheeks as
we stayed there.

"OK, Steve", the Colonel called, "Enough of this
father and son bonding!".  Reluctantly, as I'd felt so
close to dad, I got to my feet as dad continued to
kneel there.  The polished floor had a big streak of
dad's cum on it stretching away out from the front of
him, and dad's head was bowed, looking down at it as
if he was ashamed of it , rather than glorying in the
power and virility that had allowed him to generate
this sign of his manhood.

"So what about you, Steve?"  The Colonel was smiling,
and gesturing at my erect dick as I stood there.
"We've seen what your father can do, shall we have a
competition and see if you could shoot further - you
could kneel by the side of him, and measure how far
you shot against his cum slick here."

I remembered how dad had forced his dick down my
throat  and decided that he needed to learn that he
couldn't use me like that now I was a grown man.  So I
shook my head, and as the Colonel raised his eyebrows
in a silent question, I walked towards dad until I was
standing so close to him as he knelt there, and then I
moved my hips forward gently, so that my dick touched
his closed lips.  I reached down and put my hands
around dad's head, and stroked it gently, all the time
nudging my dick at his mouth, until he opened it and
my dick slid in.

"Come on, take it right down...", I muttered as I
pushed forward, feeling the slimy warmth of dad's spit
and his tongue against me.   I pushed forward more,
holding his head  not so tightly that he couldn't
escape if he had just pushed himself away, but giving
him that feeling that I was in control of him, so that
he understood that I was running the show.

"Good....", I murmured, to encourage him, and then I
really did hold his head tighter as my dick touched
the back of his throat and his gag reflex cut in.

I eased off so that he could cough and splutter, but
never took my dick out of his mouth fully, and each
time he seemed to be able to take it again, I thrust
home once more.  Occasionally I'd stop and give him a
gentle fuck with my dick, pleased that he closed his
lips around me to maximise my pleasure.  And once or
twice I did pullout completely and then beat his face
with my slimy dick - not hard, obviously, but again
just to make no mistake about who was in control.

Actually, I don't find having my dick sucked all that
erotic, and a fuck is much better.  So after we'd been
going for what felt like at least ten minutes, with
dad now moaning and slobbering all over my dick, I got
bored.    I pulled out again, and said calmly "Keep
your mouth open, and your tongue out...." And then I
slid  the tip of my dick up and down the scaly surface
of his tongue tip as I jerked away at it with my hand.
 It only took a couple of minutes and I felt my balls
beginning to contract, and I shouted "Hold it, dad -
keep your mouth open...", and the next instant his
mouth was filled with a huge load of my creamy cum,
just as mine had been with his.

The Colonel applauded, and called me over to him.
"Well done, Steve!  Excellent!  I'm having a small
dinner party on Saturday, just four local couples, and
when the ladies have retired as we have our brandy and
cigars, I was going to have your father entertain the
gentlemen as he usually does, with a display of
fucking of some of the niggas.  But I think we'll do
something different this week - I find myself getting
bored with the purely ordinary, and these locals need
some new stimulation to interest them.  So we'll have
you and your father performing together - he can fuck
you, or you can fuck him, or it might be amusing to
see you '69' each other.... Work something out between
you so that you're ready to perform."

"Yes, sir." I replied, not really sure of how we were
going to do this.

"Oh, Steve....  And don't forget:  I want a real
display.  So you're not to jerk yourself off, or fuck,
from Thursday onwards.  And you neither, blacksmith -
now your mate's in pup again you ought to be stopping
anyway."

He waved his hand then in a gesture of dismissal, and
dad and I pulled the erotically short tunics over our
heads, and turned and left.  We went back out via the
shower area so we could change back into our jeans,
boxers and Ts, and dad seemed strangely, ominously
silent.  The niggas were laughing and joking and
asking us if we had had a good time, but dad was
really monosyllabic.  Then, as we strode back home, he
turned on me!

"I ought to beat you, Steve - and I would, too, if it
didn't upset your mom."

"Hey, dad, what for?"

"For that... Making me eat your cum...."

"Dad, you did it to me the other day..."

"But you're a kid, and it's not right to make a man do
it...."

"Dad, stop talking about me like that.  I'm a man, a
grown man.  A man just like you.  So if it's OK for
you as a man to do something to me, it's OK for me to
do it back to you, by the same argument."

"You little brat...."

Dad had stopped, and was clenching his fists again as
if he was going to attack me.  I stood my ground, and
just said "Come on, then.....  You may be able to beat
me now, but one day soon I'll be stronger than you -
I'm still growing, but you're over the hill, dad....
And every beating you give me now, I'll give you one
back sooner or later."

Dad stood there, his fists still clenching and
unclenching, and obviously thinking.  I pressed home
my advantage, by saying "And in any case, we've got to
work something out for next weekend - you heard the
Colonel's orders.  So we don't have any choice, dad...
He wants to see us suck, or fuck..."

I thought dad was going to cry.  He stood there, both
of us together under the moonlight, and his voice was
almost choking as he stuttered out "Steve,  I'm sorry,
son. I'm sorry for doing all this to you.... It would
have been better if I'd never fucked your mother....
And then you wouldn't have to be going through all of
this...."

"Dad, it's no use saying things like that.  If you
hadn't performed, they'd have punished you, and if you
continued to defy them and not do it, it would only
have got worse and worse.  And they could have decided
that if you weren't going to use your balls, they
might as well cut them off.  Don't worry about it, dad
- you keep telling me that I'm a slave now and I have
to obey:  well, I understand that.  So if the Colonel
wants us to fuck, dad, that's OK...."

End Of Part 6