Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2006 23:39:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Tables Were Turned, Part Five

THE TABLES WERE TURNED

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

The Tables Were Turned, Part  Five


I knew that the gag with its water feed would
effectively silence me, so I tried to resist Tim as he
went to fit it.  He didn't "prod" me, though, merely
reached down into the crate and took my balls in his
strong hands.  I got the message and opened my mouth,
and he pushed in the hard rubber thing, then carefully
attached the tube to the water bottle.

The last I saw of him was as he lowered the lid - he
had to push my head forward and between my knees, to
make me fit, and then, as he screwed the lid down, I
knew my fate was sealed.

It was vilely uncomfortable - I had no room and my
body was all scrunched up.  I couldn't move because of
all the straps and restraints, and soon waves of cramp
went through me, waves I simply had to endure, as
there was absolutely no way I could relieve them.  I
heard the truck approaching up the track, and then Tim
and the driver joking about "another shipment", with
Tim saying that his uncle had asked him to look after
this one as he was away on business.

I knew what was going on - pushing and shoving the
crate to get it onto the platform lowered from the
truck, then the whine of the hydraulics as it was
lifted up, then more pushing and shoving as the crate
was moved inside the truck, and secured.  We were
leaving my home then, as the truck bounced down the
track, and in the next hours I heard all the sounds of
the "normal" world going on around me - the jokes and
shouts of workmen and fork-lift truck drivers as my
crate was shuffled abound some warehouse or other, and
then someone from Customs and Excise giving it a
perfunctory examination before signing the export
documentation.  I knew I was loaded onto a plane, and
then it was pretty cold - they say these cargo planes
are pressurised and heated, but only minimally, if you
ask me.

Shivering and cramping, there was fuck all I could do
except sit there and endure it.  I sucked at my water
- and remembered what I'd told all the lads about
going sparingly on it as there was only a litre or so.
 I pissed, and then had the unpleasant sensation of
having my cock swilled occasionally with piss as the
aircraft banked and the collecting bag allowed some of
it to flow back onto me.

Once we landed I started to warm up - and was soon so
hot that sweat was, literally, running off me.  The
roads were fucking awful, as I bounced around
constantly on the journey, and then there was a whole
lot of jabbering and shouting as the crate was
unloaded - no mechanical stuff here!  It got hotter
and hotter, and I imagined the crate sitting out in
the sun, and I'd long since drained the last of my
water - I was pretty desperate as I was sweating like
a pig and knew that soon that would stop, and then I
would die of heat exhaustion.  But at long last I
heard the sounds of screwdrivers opening the top, and
at long last I could uncurl my head and at least sit
upright.

I was surrounded by guards - big, tough-looking blokes
in khaki, some carrying rifles, and some carrying
clubs not unlike the baseball bat Tim had hit me with
- and they looked as if they knew how to use them, or,
rather, they looked eager to use them.

I had to be lifted out of the crate once all the
restraints had been undone, and then I collapsed onto
the hot ground as I'd lost the use of most of my
muscles from cramp.  They let me lie there for a
couple of minutes, but then began shouting at me - I
couldn't understand a word, but the inference was
clear:  get up or we'll beat you.

They "escorted" me into one of the buildings, then
along corridors - no one seemed to notice or even care
that I was naked - and all the time the escorts were
babbling away in some foreign language.  Most of the
guards with rifles disappeared then, but some big
blokes with the clubs stayed behind and continued to
look menacing.  No one spoke English, but it was clear
that I was to go and crouch over a hole and crap (I
remembered how embarrassed I'd been when Tim had made
me do this, but now I was surrounded by real tough
blokes, and it was even worse).    I was told to
shower, and did then begin to feel better, but it
seemed that this was only the first step in "grooming"
me - I was made to lie on a steel table as they pushed
an enema pipe up my ass and used one of those "colonic
irrigation" machines to thoroughly clean me out.  Then
I had to sit in a sauna - a very hot, very humid sauna
- for half an hour as dirt sweated out of my pores.
Still naked, I was made to sit on a low three-legged
stool as a barber trimmed my hair and shaved me - and
then used a variety of small instruments to clear the
hairs out of my ears, and my nostrils, and finally, to
floss my teeth and scrape my tongue.  The barber then
indicated I should stand on the stool, so that my
genitals were at a convenient height for him to be
able to shave my balls totally smooth, and there was a
lot of general snipping and trimming of my pubes
generally, to reduce the length a bit.

It was pointless to protest, pointless to argue - they
didn't seem to know English, or, if they did, they
didn't care.  And at the slightest sign of resistance
from me the guards would advance threateningly.

It did feel good to be clean, though, and when I was
made to lie on the table again, it became positively
sensual as a young bloke wearing only some sort of
tiny loin cloth that barely covered his tackle, came
in and massaged oil into me, all over.  And I no mean
all over - he not only did my back and bum and thighs
and calves, but slid his oily hands between my bum
cheeks too.  And when he did my front, my balls got
special attention, and he even 'skinned me back so
that he could oil my cock head!

I saw myself in a mirror then and I have to say I did
look good - I'm basically a handsome bloke with a good
body, as you know, but oiled like this, my skin
positively glowed and I looked the specimen of perfect
health.  They gave me some clothes then - well, not as
such exactly:  it was a kind of tunic thing, like a
long vest, that left my shoulders bare and which
finished at mid-thigh, but at least my tackle and bum
were decently covered now.

They led me along more corridors then, and the
atmosphere seemed to change, with it getting more and
more luxurious as we went, with fluorescent light
being replaced by glass chandeliers, concrete floors
by marble, and that sort of thing.     I began to
recognise where I was, I think - I'd been down some of
these corridors before, on business.

Two big wooden doors were flung open and the guards
pushed me into the middle of a vast audience room -
and there, on the dais at the end, was one of my most
important customers.  I strode over towards him,
conscious of my cock swinging underneath the small
tunic, but nevertheless pleased to be safe now.
"Highness!", I said, extending my hand "Good to see
you again. Thank you for rescuing...."

"Silence!", he screamed.  "Say one more word without
being spoken to first, and I will have the guards beat
you."

I looked, and the blokes with clubs were all tensed,
ready for action. So I stood there, still and not
moving.

"Good.  I understand you have had some training, and
of course you know of the way I treat my purchases as
you have been here before when making deliveries.  But
this time you are the delivery, not the delivery man.
So disrobe, as I wish to see exactly what I have
acquired."

"Highness, please...."

"I said disrobe, boy."

My heart began to race, but I had no choice.  I pulled
the tunic thing over my head, and stood there in the
centre of the marble floor, utterly bare.  I heard an
interested murmur come from some of the men lining the
room.

He clapped his hands, and Tim came out from a door at
the back, and joined him.  A Tim now even more finely
dressed - a really expensive-looking dark blue blazer,
smart grey trousers, shiny shoes, a white silk shirt
and a stunning tie: the perfect "English gentleman"
look, in contrast to my customer who was, as usual, in
full-length robes of the very finest white wool,
richly embroidered in white with intricate designs
along the edges.

"Excellent!  Truly excellent!", I heard him say to
Tim.  "All the time I was dealing with this man I
wondered what his body was really like.  In his shirt
and jeans he stirred a certain excitement, but I
longed to see his bare buttocks, to know whether that
hair that poked so excitingly from the top of his
shirt extended to his belly, and to wonder whether his
cock was truly as good as the bulge in his jeans might
suggest.   Time and time again he came here to receive
payment for my latest purchase from him, and only the
absolute duty of a host, as is laid down in our holy
book, prevented me from having him stripped and
displayed.  Or even of having a concealed camera in
his room.  But when you contacted me I knew I could
have my wish without breaking with my religion - it
was an act of extraordinary good sense, young sir, to
offer him to me first.  And I salute your good
business sense in sticking to the agreed price, even
though those South American drug dealers tried to open
a bidding war!"

He stopped then, and gazed at me for a few more
moments, then ordered me to turn around so that my
back was to him.  I heard him say to Tim "Lovely
shoulders - so broad.  And that classic 'V' shape.
And those buttocks - almost like an African's, the way
they flare so sensuously.  Did you use him after you
captured him?"

"No,  Highness.  I had him wank for me, of course.
But he never used me anally, so I didn't think to do
so to him - and then, of course, I found your
correspondence with him and know that you stipulate
that the men you buy should be virgins.  I can't
guarantee that he is, of course, as he was in the
British Army and I expect your own soldiers are not
unused to taking pleasure in the barracks either....
But he always talks about women, so perhaps he has not
experienced anal sex - although I believe he has
certainly indulged in mutual masturbation with other
men."

"Oh, that is of no consequence!  Almost all men to
that.   And, to some extent, I even prefer a man who
has gone a little further, and is not afraid of taking
my cock into his throat. But I do prefer to be the
first to use a man's rear entrance for my pleasure -
it is so much more satisfactory to have a virgin as
they are totally unprepared for the feeling of cock
deep inside them, and they scream and writhe all the
more excessively.  The prophet has also written that a
man always remembers he whose cock first enters him,
and I like to think that I am also achieving this
little piece of fame as I take my pleasure.  Sadly, it
does not work the other way around, as I can barely
remember most of the young men who I have deflowered
here - but I think the deep, muscled bum of Steve here
may provide me with a memory that will last for some
time..."

He called out something in Arabic, and two men at once
wheeled into the centre of the floor what  I suppose
was the upmarket equivalent of my Workmate!  It looked
to be made in gold, and there were a multitude of
wheels and levers on it to make adjustments.

"Lie of the leather pad", he commanded, looking
straight at me.

"NO, highness, please... We were business partners...
I brought you all those young men, to your
specification.... You can't do this to me...."

He nodded his head, and four of the guards simply
rushed me, and before I could resist properly, picked
me up and forced me down on to the pad.  I felt cuffs
tightening around my wrists and ankles, and knew I was
helpless.  One of the men stood there then and made
adjustments to the level and slope of the thing - my
head was slightly down, and my bum sticking right up,
and my feet were spread wide apart so I could feel my
cock and balls swinging freely.

The Arab called out something and I saw the room
emptying, then heard Tim's voice.  "Shall I go too,
Highness?"

"No, I think you deserve to see this - and you are
familiar with him, perhaps you can even help."

I heard footsteps and the swish of robes as Tim and
the Arab approached me, then gave a little involuntary
gasp as the Arab's big hands grasped my bum.  His
fingers kind of kneaded my muscles, and he remarked
"These are splendid!  So firm.  So strong.  And so
deep - concealing his private place so well.   I
usually prefer the slimmer buttocks of a younger man
not yet properly mature, but, as I said, this man has
aroused me ever since I first saw him.  And I am not
disappointed - as I said, he was enticing in jeans,
but naked he is one of those men who reminds me why
the prophet has given us the power to appreciate the
male body. "

His fingers continued to knead and probe, and then I
could feel him pulling my buttocks apart.  "Please be
so good as to assist me, young sir", I heard him say
to Tim.  "Hold these delicious globes of flesh apart -
I have seen his secret place, and must examine it."

The next moment I whimpered in surprise, or pain, or
delight, or something, as his finger nail raked down
along the bottom of my ass crack and came to rest on
my sphincter.  I could hear the excitement in his
voice as he told Tim "See - he reacts.  He is not used
to a man's touch here.  And yet his hole does not open
to welcome my finger:  I am getting more and more
excited, as I do believe he is indeed a virgin.  And
the prophet has said that the reward for the righteous
here on earth is a virgin - I think I am being
rewarded today for my good works and wise rule."

I heard a slithering sound as he dropped his robe to
the floor.  He came and stood in front of me in a thin
cotton shift open all down the front, and his cock was
erect and jutting out through the fabric - a big,
long, fat cock, not unlike my own.   "This is to be
the cock that will first enter you, boy - you have
never experienced the delight of a man using your hole
before, have you?"

"You're fucking right!  I'm no pervert....  No one's
fucked me....."

He turned to Tim and said "You told me he was not
fully trained, and I can see that now.  He will need
to be punished later for such an outburst."  He stood
beside me, his cock rubbing up and down my ribs as I
lay there, and bent over me, asking Tim to again pull
my buttocks apart.  I felt his finger resting on my
hole again, and then wriggling and squirming to try to
break in.  I tried to clench my bum, I did all those
things you do to try to stop shitting when there's no
lavatory in the vicinity.  But the relentless pressure
of his finger made me gasp.

"Young sir, he is so extremely tight, that I think I
shall abandon my first plan, to take him 'dry' - such
a tight sphincter might chafe my cock unpleasantly.
So I will lubricate him, but I prefer to use only
natural ingredients, not like you Westerners who buy
potions and creams to do it.... Would you be so good
as to milk him for me, please, so that I can use his
natural juice to ease his passage - and thus my
passage!"

He paused, then went on "...see... I have such mastery
of English that I can even use 'passage' in two senses
at the same time!  Your English school system is so
excellent.  I did enjoy my time there, and at
Cambridge."

"Which college, Highness?"

"You are familiar with Cambridge, young sir?"

"I was supposed to be going there in September, until
Steve... This man.... Captured me.  I suppose I'd be
the man lying there now in front of you, if I hadn't
outwitted him...."

The Arab roared with laughter. "Of course!  A man who
was qualified for Cambridge would always outwit a
rough soldier like this one.  And whereas there are
many men who can function here for my pleasure, the
world needs clever people to drive business, do
research.... You must, of course, take up your
place...."

"Yes, Highness.", Tim answered.  "I'll think about it.
 But I quite like the idea of taking time out,
thinking, travelling, finding my own self, making
plans, discovering something  I could be really good
at.... And now I have the money - the money I took
from this man that he had accumulated from his
activities, I can do so."

It was utterly surreal, these two talking about
universities and crap like that when I was tied down
here naked, about to be fucked by one of them.  "If
you're going to fuck me, cut the crap and get it over
with!", I shouted in frustration and anger.

I wish I hadn't, a moment later, as the Arab's big
hands slapped my bum four times, very hard, causing me
to yelp as each blow hit.    He walked around behind
me then and I could feel his cock pressing into my bum
as his hand slid up between my thighs and grabbed my
balls as they hung there, defenceless.  "One more
word, boy, and next time it will be these that get
slapped",  he hissed.  "Have you ever had a mans' hand
strike your orbs as they swing there between your
thighs?"

"Sir, no, sir" - I decided to play safe, and give a
proper response!  You don't argue with a bloke who's
got your balls in his hand.

"Young sir the delight of being in such close
proximity to such a desirable piece of male flesh is
so great that I fear I may not be able to contain
myself", the Arab continued.  "Could you assist, by
kneeling here and milking him for me?"

"Of course, Highness", I heard Tim reply, and the next
moment I felt his clothes brush against my bare skin
as he crouched down, and then his long fingers probed
up between my thighs to take hold of my cock.  I
shuddered with that particular delight as he skinned
me back and raked his thumbnail over my piss slit, and
then he began to slide my 'skin slowly and sensuously
over my cock head. I couldn't help it, and moaned with
the pleasure.  Even when you're tied up and utterly
humiliated, if someone is really using your cock
properly, you can't help it.

"Come on, Steve.... Shoot....", he muttered.  "You're
so proud of your fucking cock, it ought to be
easy...."   And it was - somehow, being utterly
helpless like that and having a young bloke forcibly
masturbate me was a huge turn on.  Within seconds I
was gasping "Yes, yes, yes... Oh....." as I shot, and
then I felt Tim getting to his feet.

"Highness.... As usual, he has produced a large
quantity of very thick cum...."

"Truly he is a delightful piece of male flesh, and
everything  I see of him enhances it."

I cried out then, though, as his finger, now slimed
with my cum, forced its way up into me.  And then
carried on moaning and whimpering as another finger,
and then three, forced my sphincter apart.  And of
course, with three up there, he was able to spread
them and stretch me even more.

He came around to the front again then, his cock still
jutting rampantly through the front of his shift, and
I could see the thick curls of black hair over his
body as he stood there.  "You are ready to receive me
now, boy.  Look once more at what will soon be buried
deep inside you, at what will be demonstrating that I
am more powerful than you, and that I control you
utterly...."

He looked at Tim and said quietly "Please... The
lubrication...."

As I watched, Tim knelt by the man and almost
reverentially used his cum-covered hand to stroke the
cock, smearing my remaining cum all over it.  The Arab
was of course circumcised, and as Tim's ministrations
brushed against the thick flange at the base of his
cock head, he gave a tiny, almost inaudible moan of
pleasure.

He waved Tim away then and came and stood very close
to me.  His cock was right in front of my face, and I
could smell my cum covering it, and see it shining and
glistening in the lights.  "This is the cock that will
possess you, boy.  This cock will take your virginity,
and be the first one to use you in the way that a man
like you should be used.  Look at it, and marvel."

I wanted to say something, but what was the point?  I
heard his footsteps moving to the back of me, felt his
hands once more pulling my bum apart.  Then there was
that strange felling of warmth, moist warmth, as a
cock first touches your sphincter.  He rested for a
moment, then pushed.  I resisted and he pushed harder.
 I began to get uncomfortable, and now he was pushing
very hard indeed - and he broke through.  I screamed,
as the pain shot through me.

"See, boy", I heard him say.  "The cock is mightier
than the arse hole of a man like you!  A cock can
always force entry.  Now...."

He slid more into me - easy for him, but painful for
me, and I gasped with it, and clenched my fists in an
effort to stop crying out.  I knew all my back muscles
would be tightened and standing out, and, indeed, his
hand was soon in  the middle of my shoulder blades,
feeling the muscles, as he pushed further in to me and
whispered "Easy, boy, take your master's cock, and
take it deep.... I like to feel you struggle..... As
it shows us both who's the stronger, who's in charge."


I did cry and scream and shout, of course.  Once he
was buried fully into me and I could feel his wiry
pubic hair against my bum, he started to pull out, and
then push in again.  It hurt - well, I suppose its
that very special pain you get there, mixed with that
very special pleasure.  But I knew I was violated, I
knew I was now changed:  a man's cock was deep inside
me, controlling me, and I didn't much like it.

How long did it take before he finally gave a great
cry, one last final thrust deep in to me, and
collapsed forward onto my back (I could feel his
sweaty, hairy belly and chest all along me)?  I don't
know.  Time seemed to lose meaning.  I knew he varied
things tremendously, sometimes doing long, hard
strokes to cause me to cry out, and sometimes little
short ones that made me moan with a perverse kind of
pleasure.  But finally he was done, and, sweating and
panting slightly, he stood by my face once more, his
cock detumescing rapidly.

"You're mine now, boy.  Really mine now.  I paid to
have you brought here, so I suppose I owned you - but
now I truly own you:  you have lost your virginity to
my cock, and you will always know that I am your
master."

He looked at Tim then, and went on "After all he did
to you, you should show him that you are superior to
him in every way.  Of course you outwitted him, but a
man like this understands only one thing - physical
domination.  You should use him now to show him that,
like me, you are a master and he is a mere boy, here
for our amusement and pleasure."

I saw Tim nod, and he slipped his blazer off and let
it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor.   His shirt
and tie followed, then he slipped off his loafers to
allow his trousers to fall.  Stepping out of them he
stood there in very thin white briefs - he seemed to
have abandoned the boxers he wore when I'd first seen
him as a skater!  As the Arab and I both watched, he
slipped those down, allowing his cock to spring
upwards as if it was glad to be out of their
confinement.

The Arab went up to  him and put one of his big hands
on Tim's naked shoulder, holding him at arms length
and raking Tim's body with his eyes.  "Truly this boy
had the power to pick men", he  told Tim.  "Had he
brought you to me, I would have been delighted."

"Thank you, Highness."  Tim took the Arab's hand from
his shoulder, then, almost spontaneously, moved closer
to the man and put his hands on the Arab's shoulders -
he slowly pulled the man to him, and I could see Tim's
cock touching the Arab's, and then moving upwards as
they moved closer together.  "Thank you.  And thank
you for offering me the use of this boy, who is indeed
prime stock, as you say.  After I have seen your
magnificent performance a moment ago I only hope that
I can be half as good.  Truly, as you told the boy,
your cock utterly conquered him, and I cannot hope to
emulate that."

The Arab chuckled.  "You are a diplomat, as well as a
businessman and vanquisher of the less intelligent, I
see!  Now, though, go to it - we shall feast tonight,
you and I, and afterwards might explore our interest
in our bodies a little further...."

Tim's cock was thinner than the Arab's monster, so I
should have been able to take him without all that
much pain.  But Something inside me snapped.  As he
slid it into me, I began to shout "No, you young
fucker!  Tim, stop it!  Please!  No....", and then I
began to scream all the vile names I could think of at
him - it wasn't right, a young bloke like him, who I'd
"trained" doing this to me.  And Tim was like a wild
animal, too - he didn't just stand there and fuck me
as the Arab had, but was almost climbing up onto my
back, leaving only one foot on the ground: as if in a
frenzy he wanted to get every last millimetre of his
cock in to me.  His hands scrabbled at my shoulders to
get a better purchase, and it was as if he was raging
and totally passionate about what he was doing.

When it was over, he went and stood by the Arab,
smiling slightly.  The Arab looked astonished, and I
heard him say "Such passion!  Truly you are a stallion
amongst men!  You must promise to treat me more gently
should we decide to explore each other later....  But
first, the boy must be punished.  He knows that such
language is not permissible, and his attitude to a
master must be corrected."

He called out something in Arabic then, and a servant
came in.  I couldn't see exactly what they were doing
until the first cane stroke hit my bare bum - and
then, as the blows rained down and they all melded
into one sheet of blinding, almost unbearable pain, I
knew I was screaming and raving, but no longer had any
intelligible words:  it was just the ranting of a
wounded animal, an animal who could not defend
himself, who could do nothing except take the
punishment that these two men were handing out, and
whose cries were cries of total despair.

Both men stood in front of me again then, holding
their canes (which I couldn't help noticing were now
tinged with blood - my blood.).  Both were erect once
more, and were sweating from their exertions.  The
Arab looked amused, but there was a look of triumph in
Tim's eyes, as he said quietly "The cane hurts,
doesn't it, Steve?  You showed me that, rather early
on."

The Arab called out again and more servants came in -
they had soft towels, and cleaned their master's cock,
and Tim's, before helping the Arab back into his
sumptuous gown, and holding out an equally fine robe
for Tim to slip on - his clothes were cleared away, I
noticed.

As they were turning to leave, the Arab said to Tim
"Now I have used him, he is of little further interest
as my tastes are generally more to younger men, like
you.  I would be pleased to give him back to you as a
gift....  I will of course pay you for him, as we had
an agreement, but you may take him home with you."

My heart began to pace with hope - at least back in
England I had some chance of freedom.  Here in Arabia
I knew there was none, as foreigners stood out like a
sore thumb, and all the police, army and other
services were totally under the control of his
Highness.

"Highness, your generosity is overwhelming.  And I
hope I can find some way of repaying you later this
evening, after we have feasted - or perhaps whilst we
are feasting, if we dine alone.... But I cannot take
him back with me."

I listened to this chance of freedom slipping away,
with horror.  "No, please, Tim, please, get me out of
here...."

"See", Tim said to the Arab, "He is not properly
trained.  And I lack the facilities in England - I
thought I had broken him, but clearly he was
masquerading.  If I take him back to England he would
do something foolish, and although he would end up
spending the rest of his life in jail, I expect his
money - which I now have - would be confiscated or
something...."

"No, please, I won't... I swear...."

Tim picked up the cane where the servants had left it,
and came over and struck me four more times, causing
me to howl with misery as later strokes really do hurt
more.

"Shut the fuck up, boy!", he said as if it was the
most normal thing in the world to punish a man like
this.  "Shut the fuck up, or else  I will ask your
owner to have you gagged."

"....or perhaps permanently muted?", the Arab cut in.
"We have the vocal chords of many servants here in the
palace snipped through, as it stops them making idle
chatter about their betters."

"Highness, you can see that he is incorrigible.  I
cannot accept your gift and take him back...."

"Come, young sir.... Let's get started on the
feasting, and the 'entertainment' promised for
afterwards:  we have ways of permanently 'breaking'
even strong-willed boys like that one here... Think no
more of it - when you next visit, as I hope we will
develop a permanent friendship, I think you will find
your boy is properly obedient and subservient, and you
might then want to take him back with you:  good
servants are impossible to find in England, as I know
from my years there, and one trained as he will be
will be almost beyond price."

They left me there then, and I could feel their semen
trickling down the inside of my thighs as I lay there
- or was it blood from my utterly terrible caning?  Or
perhaps both.  But not for long- the doors opened, the
guards with their clubs came in and I was released,
and marched off back down into the grim depths of the
place where I'd started my journey earlier that day.

End Of Part Five