Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2007 13:55:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Instrument, Part Three

THE INSTRUMENT

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Three

It was a pretty routine day on the estate.  With so
many slaves you just know there are going to be some
who don't turn in their full quota of work, but one of
my jobs is to "prowl" around looking for slackers,
wherever they might lurk.  You don't often find them
on the coffles, of course - the need to work at the
same pace as your coffle mates to keep the line moving
evenly across the field sees to that (and the
overseers are on a productivity bonus, so they are not
even remotely tempted to let the whole coffle slack).
But elsewhere on the estate the slaves have a little
more freedom, a little more discretion in how they do
their duties - I mean, you can't have the chefs
shackled, or the waiters, can you?  And the gardeners
who mow the lawns and tend the exotic foliage plants n
the pleasure grounds need some freedom of movement,
too.  So I "prowl" around the estate for most of the
day, just making sure all the slaves keep up their
maximum output all the time.  They know that if I find
them not totally focussed on their tasks they'll get a
swift blow from my punishment strap (I carry it
prominently tucked in to the back pocket of my shorts,
so that as I pass they're all aware of what awaits
them if I see them not working).

It's not particularly arduous work, but you do need a
free man to do it, as you'd expect.  It's never proven
very satisfactory to have slaves supervising slaves -
somehow the knowledge that they themselves are subject
to being punished physically makes them resistant to
handing out such punishments themselves.  And at the
end of the day it's only the fear of punishment that
keeps a slave really working hard, isn't it?  Well,
the way I see it, there's no other incentive:  he's
not going to get a better pay rise, or promoted, or
anything, is he?   As I've mentioned to you, though,
in addition to the strappings and canings I do, and
the "ad hoc" punishments as I prowl the estate, the
thing they all fear the most is a beating - a real,
prolonged, physical beating.  None of the slaves want
to be put into the fighting pit with me and then have
me totally and comprehensibly beat them up (but doing
no permanent damage as I have said).  So I need to
keep really fit and strong for this reason alone, and
at the end of the day I usually spend a couple of
hours at one of the "hard labour" tasks around the
estate - pulling a plough, cracking rocks for a new
road, that kind of thing.  In the hot sun I almost
envy the slaves their nakedness as  I work alongside
them, as my own shirt and shorts get soaked in my
sweat - but it's against the law here for a free man
to appear naked, and the Sheikh is a stickler for
obedience to the law.

There are only two real problems with my job - the
lack of alcohol, and the lack of vacations!  Well you
can understand the alcohol thing,  I suppose - their
ju-ju in the sky forbids it, apparently, and, as I
said, the Sheikh is a stickler for obeying the law.
So if you really want to relax the only thing to do is
to have sex - I can take my pick of any of the bucks
or bitches on the estate of course, but after a time
the endless supply of fit, lithe bodies gets a bit
boring and sometimes I wish I was back home with a
wife and kids.  Not that I've been home for five years
-  I'm supposed to get six weeks of vacation a year,
with the flights home paid, but so far I've never been
able to take any of them.  They took my passport off
me when I arrived  "for processing by the police", and
it's never been returned and I suppose I've stopped
asking for it.  But the Sheikh assures me that six
weeks more pay is paid into my account - they show me
the statements from the numbered Swiss account if I
ask them.  I've no real need of money here as
"everything's found",  so I've never had to use any of
my savings - although I suppose I ought to ask how I
actually go about accessing that account one day.

That evening, though,  I was pretty tired after my
epic raping of the captured sergeant, and I just
didn't fancy working away somewhere.  So I went back
to my quarters, and told them to bring the new slave
boy Marc to me.  He had his usual sullen, slightly
defiant look as he came in to my room, so I put him
across my knees and slapped his butt a few times:
it's a good way of learning - he'd soon begin to
associate, deep down, displays of ill humour and
defiance with physical pain.  And in any event it's
pretty humiliating for a sixteen year old to have a
bare-assed spanking, and so it helps him to continue
to learn that his life has irrevocably changed.

Marc had told me that he was really keen on sport -
any sport - and there was the World Cup soccer on the
TV that evening.  I told him I was going to watch it,
and that cheered him up a bit and as the slaves served
me my dinner I allowed him to sit on the floor at my
feet,  and fed him scraps of this and that - he was
losing the squeamishness about taking food from my
fingers that he'd had when he first arrived, as he
began to realise how dull a life of eating only slave
chow was  (although he had to eat his bar of the
"puppy" formulation at each meal, even if he didn't
want it, as it contains all the stuff needed for a guy
who's rapidly putting on muscle, as Marc was).

There was a lesson he had to learn after dinner,
though.  Once I'd dismissed the serving slaves and we
were alone together I sat on one of the couches facing
the TV, and sprawled out - then wriggled a bit so I
could take my shorts off and sat there in just my polo
shirt.  Marc came to sit beside me as the match began,
but  I snapped "No, you're a slave, remember?  And
I've told you before that slaves don't sit on the
furniture!  They stand, or, if a free man allows it,
they sit on the floor."

Marc glared at me for a moment, probably remembered my
hand slapping his butt earlier, and sank to the floor,
resting his back against the edge of the couch.  "No,
slave!  Get over here and sit between my legs", I
commanded.

Looking very reluctant, he came and sat on the floor
between my legs, kind on hunching himself up as if he
was somehow embarrassed to have his naked body in
contact with my skin.  The game started, and I could
see he was really excited at being able to see this
bit of "real life" as he called it - forgetting, of
course, that his life here as a slave was now the
reality, and TV  sport via the satellite was in fact
the fantasy for him.

"Turn around and kneel, facing me!", I ordered.  He
turned his head, looking startled.  "You heard me!", I
repeated.  "Do it - or come across my knees again
whilst I beat the idea into you."

Very reluctantly he raised himself to his knees, then
turned around to face me.  I could see him listening
to the commentary, and the moment there was a roar
from the crowd, he turned to face the TV.

"Listen, you fucking slave", I told him. "You need to
focus on your work, on the needs of a free man who you
are serving.  How dare you turn away from me to watch
the TV!"

"But I'm missing the game...."

"It is of no consequence.  You are a slave, and the
only thing that should matter to you is serving a free
man.  Now, continue to kneel there, and I want to see
you keep your eyes on my cock and balls - what finer
sight could a young slave boy have than that to watch
a free man's cock?  Focus on it, enjoy it, learn the
subtleties of his it swells and moves as I get
excited.  If  I see you so much as half turn your head
away from looking at me, I'll spank you again.  Is
that understood?"

"Please, Steve...."

"It's 'Sir' to you, slave."

"Please sir, it's the semi-finals... It's...."

"I don't care.  And neither should you.  All that is
in your past life.  You need to focus on the here and
now - your life as a slave."

He looked pretty rebellious for an instant, and I felt
certain I'd be feeling his firm young ass under my
hand again, but then his defiance somehow collapsed,
and he knelt there, in resigned misery.  I gave him a
bit of sport though, as I scratched my balls and
played with my cock, as you do, and  as the evening
progressed I even had a couple of erections.  Mind
you, it must have been tough on him, as like all the
floors in this part of the palace it's marble in my
quarters, and an hour and a half kneeling on marble is
really painful for the knees.   I did let him move a
bit, though, as occasionally I reached forward and
pulled his head down into my crotch so he could enjoy
my scent, and then I "encouraged" him a little to lick
at my cock (although I stopped him after a while, as I
didn't want to cum because I had another of those
captured soldiers to look forward to the next day.)

It was a really good game, though, and they went to
extra time.  I decided to relent a bit and lay back on
the couch, resting my head on the arm at one end.
Then I patted the surface beside me and told him he
could come and lie by me and on me - as usual, he
didn't like the thought of this intimacy, but then he
realised he could see the extra time!  And when they
went to a penalty shoot-out, we were both so excited
that we were sweating profusely and it was hard for me
not to fuck him there and then as his body slid
sensuously over mine.

I took him into my bed as he needed to practice
sleeping with another man, and it was hard not to
resist him - but I knew I needed a really convincing
display of fucking, with a big load of cum the next
day, and so it was just not sensible to allow myself
the luxury of having him wank me, or suck me off (I
could not actually fuck him, as he was a virgin and
therefore reserved for the Sheikh's first use).  I
made him jerk himself off, though, as I wanted a good
night's sleep and did not want him constantly awake
with a hard cock.  So I lay there and watched him
(more good training in losing his inhibitions), and it
was especially good to make him catch his cum and lick
his hand clean afterwards:  something he said he found
"gross", but was prepared to do as the alternative was
a good spanking.

The next morning I sent him off to work in the fields
without a morning run, as I was conserving my own
energy, and after a good breakfast once more went down
to the interrogation room.  The Sheikh had decided not
to attend this time, so I had a little more leeway in
the arrangements (he's rather conservative, and
believes a slave should only be fucked from the rear,
for example).  So it amused me to ask the men which of
them would volunteer for a beating and fucking - it's
not a bad strategy, actually:  it's relatively easy to
identify the strongest man, the one in command, but
more difficult to gauge who's next in line.  By asking
for a "volunteer", the second-most feels the need to
step forward to "prove" to himself, and possibly to
his buddies, that he can take it as well as the
commander.

I knew I was in for a pleasing morning as the
"volunteer" was a tall, redhead.  Once out of the cage
and ordered to strip, he had that wonderful
milky-white skin that only redheads have, although it
was marred with a rash of ugly freckles on his
forearms and lower legs from exposure to the sun in Ts
and shorts.  His ass promised much, though -  firm and
well muscled, blending well with his long thighs.  He
was almost hairless on his body,  but there was a big
ginger bush of very wiry hair surrounding his cock and
balls, and I decided to take him on his back so  I
could get a better look at this as I fucked him.

Before that could begin, though, we had to go through
the ritual beating of him, and given his milky-white
skin, I decided to break with "tradition" and use a
cane, rather than a strap.  Across the pure whiteness
of his buttocks the red line from the cane would be
much more pronounced, and would tell his comrades more
of the pain and humiliation he was suffering.  I knew
I had to be careful, though, as it was important not
to break the skin at this stage  - if the Sheikh
wanted to give him away as a gift in a relatively
short time, scars on his butt would not be a good
idea.

You know it gets a bit boring sometimes when you have
to do all this beating and stuff - the cane makes a
nice change, I suppose, and it was vaguely interesting
to see the red stripes marching across his white skin.
 But you can't really concentrate on it and make the
most of it when all the audience is shouting and
swearing all the time.  He wasn't a  bad fuck, though
- a really nice tight ass, and as I had decided to
fuck him on his back, I got to look at the eyes of the
guy as he screamed and shouted at me.  It means you
have to release him and tie him down again, of course,
but with a couple of guards standing around with their
prods at the ready, that's not a problem really.  I
had him tied so that his wrists were stretched
downwards to the front legs, but used long ropes to
pull his ankles wide apart and almost back to his
head, so he was really utterly and completely exposed
to me.

He thought he'd try to spit at me as I entered him,
though - a big gob of it flew towards me.  I had a bit
of a warning, as he stopped shouting and swearing at
me as he gathered all his spit ready for it, so he
missed my face (although it hit my shirt).  Well, you
can't allow the guy being punished to get away with
stuff like that, can you?  So I pulled out of him and
stood there between his spread-eagles legs,  looking
down at him along is body.  His cock had flopped
forward onto his belly and his balls were therefore
lying right in front of me - I slapped at them,
hitting them quite hard, and that took all thoughts of
any more spitting right out of his head!  I thought he
was going to vomit with the pain, but fortunately he
didn't, and I simply smiled quietly at him so he knew
that there was more punishment like that if he tried
spitting again.

I thought it would add another bit of humiliation if
he got covered in my cum, so as I was about to shoot I
pulled right out of him and allowed my cum to spew
forwards onto his belly and chest  - I must be getting
old, I reckon, as in my young days  I think I could
have reached his face with my initial spurts.  Before
I finished, though, when there was still that last
"ending" after-flow of cum, I plunged straight back
into him, really hard, feeling my balls slam into him
and letting the others see that there would still be a
load of my cum inside him.

Like the sergeant the day before I did not allow him
to pull back on the few tattered rags he had been
wearing when he came out of the cage, and thrust him
back amongst his fellows with shit and sweat trickling
down between his thighs.  I then went over to them and
said, as casually as I could, "So, two down, and still
four to go..... You know one or other of you is going
to break and tell me the truth, so why put yourselves
through all of this?  It's fun for me, as you can see,
to have six virgin asses to fuck, but the two so far
don't seem to have enjoyed it quite as much as I did.
Still, I'll see all you guys again tomorrow...... And
I think I'll take the young blond one.... I've had two
really big guys so far, and so you at the back, the
young-looking one, will be tomorrow's little
exercise."

Before they could react, I turned and left, knowing
that the poor guy would now spend the next twenty four
hours worrying about what was going to happen to him.
It put me in quite a good mood, actually - I knew the
Sheikh wanted to hear them "confess", and the earlier
they did it, the better:  he relies on me as his
instrument in these things, and if an instrument isn't
playing well, I suppose there might be unfortunate
consequences.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful - I prowled
around the estate and caught a few slaves slacking,
and as I patrolled  I caught sight of Marc working
away - it was the day when one of the dray slaves had
been harnessed to pull the mover that cuts the broad
swathes of lawn in front of the palace - keeping it
green in the desert heat is one of the symbols of the
Sheikh's power and wealth.  Marc had been told to
empty the box that caught the clippings whenever it
got empty - the dray stopped, Marc had to kneel down
to unhook the box from the mower, run with it to the
wagon that was waiting at the side, empty it and
return.  There's an awful lot of lawn, and a big, big
load of trimmings, so it's hard work for the dray and
for Marc - he was sweating profusely, and his body was
stained with the green sap of the grass.  I
deliberately didn't stop and speak to him, actually:
I wanted him to see that as a working slave who was
working properly he was of no special concern or
interest to me - it doesn't do slaves any good to
think that they're in any way "special" to a free man
(and I have to confess that I had got a tiny bit
attached to the boy, so I knew I had to be on my
guard).

At the end of the day, when I had got back to my
quarters, there was no sign of the grass stains on
Marc though.  I'd given orders for him to be bought to
my rooms, and to be properly cleaned, and it can't
have been too pleasant for him I suppose.  His skin
was shining and squeaky clean, and it must have taken
a lot of extremely hot water and very diligent
scrubbing to get rid of the stains.

As I ate I had him sit at my feet, and I kicked off my
sandals and enjoyed the sensation of having my toes
tease and caress his cock and balls.  He boned up, as
you might expect, and this added a little extra
amusement:  I got his cock between the soles of my
feet and "wanked" him so that I brought him almost to
the point of climax - there was a big trickle of
pre-cum drooling out of his cock.  I didn't let him
cum, though - that's part of the fun of playing with a
sixteen year old - they're so easily aroused, and then
when they're not allowed to finish the thing, it makes
them really frustrated (and I guess their balls hurt
with all that unreleased cum!).  Marc began to beg me
to let him actually cum, and I found this rather
amusing:  only a very short time before he'd been
hideously embarrassed, blushing, and almost sobbing
with shame when I made him jerk off in front of me,
and now here he was, asking, no, pleading, to be
allowed to do it!

I did finally relent, and said that he could shoot his
load, but it did have to be done in the right way with
him kneeling in front of me, his butt resting on his
heels and his back straight, and with him looking
directly at me as he knelt there at my feet, making no
attempt to let his eyes lower in shame or humiliation.
 It's an important part of a slave's education to
learn that all bodily functions are no longer
"private" in any way - he is owned property of his
master, and if his master wants to see him jerk off,
or piss, or fuck, or whatever, that's how it is and
the slave should feel no hesitation or embarrassment
of any kind in complying.  After that, though, I sent
him away as the sight of his firm body and lovely cock
has made me really horny - I sincerely felt that if I
allowed him to sleep next to me I might not be able to
restrain myself and would have him suck me off,  or
perhaps I might even "fuck" him between his thighs....
and as you know I was saving myself for the next day.

The next morning I was really horny, and I could
hardly restrain myself from wanking as I lay in bed
with my morning hard-on.  But although I was expecting
the third captured soldier to "break", you ever know,
do you?  So I "saved" myself, and sprang out of bed
and then was really careful not to let the boy (who
I'd made to sleep at the foot of the bed where I could
touch him with my toes if I wanted to) be too vigorous
as he soaped my cock in the shower.

When I went down to the interrogation chamber all six
of the captives at once began shouting and swearing,
as they usually did (although their enthusiasm for
this was now a bit dampened, as I'd given orders for
them to be kept short of food and so their energies
were at a lower level).  I pointed at the slim, young
blond and the guards opened the gate and dragged him
out, as usual keeping all the others at bay with their
prods.  He walked almost defiantly towards the
"horse", as if to show that he was not afraid, but I
could tell from his whole attitude that this was an
immense effort of will on his part.

I commanded him to strip and then went and stood next
to him.  Putting one arm around his shoulders as if to
restrain him, I reached down with my other hand and
took his cock in my hand.  It lay there in my palm,
and above the noise from his buddies I could hear him
say plaintively "No, please, no.....".  I gently
teased it with my thumb, and was rewarded with the
subtle sensation as it began to "creep" across my skin
as he began to get an erection.

"So, boy, you like men, do you?", I whispered.
"Perhaps you're looking forward to having my cock up
your ass?  Have other men been there before?"

"No!  I'm not a faggot...."

"No matter.... You like this attention to your cock,
though, don't you?"   As I said this I deftly moved my
thumb backwards, and his moist cock head was now
exposed, lying there in my palm.

He and I could both see all his buddies looking at him
as he stood there exposed like that, and  I now said,
in a loud voice "We're going to have a bit of a
variation on what we do to you.  I'm tired of
strapping you and fucking you on the 'horse', and
instead I'm going to take you to the next room and
scourge your back, butt and thighs with a whip, on the
whipping frame.  Come on....."

"No!", all the other men shouted.  But I simply
grasped his now very hard cock, and using it as a kind
of handle, half led, half dragged him to the door.
Actually, when you've got a guy in your control like
that it doesn't make much to make him follow you!

There wasn't actually a whipping frame in the next
room - these men were to be given as gifts by the
Sheikh, remember, so even if there had been, I could
not have used it.  Instead it was bare except for a
desk and a chair, and I now sat down leaving him
standing on the other side of the desk.

"At ease, soldier!", I snapped.  And in spite of being
naked, he at once stood upright, braced his shoulders,
clasped is hands behind his back, opened his feet, and
stared straight at me.

He was still erect, and I laughed quietly at him.
"So, do you still deny that you are a soldier?  You
certainly act like one!  How many times have you stood
like that in front of an officer's desk?  Well, not
like that exactly, nice and hard as you are, all
skinned back...."

He stared straight at me, and muttered "Sir, fuck you,
sir."

I laughed openly now.  "No, soldier boy.  As we both
know, it's you who is going to get fucked.  Across
this very desk.  I don't need to have a very young guy
like you tied down - I'm going to subdue you jus with
my own power and strength:  you'll feel the weight of
my body crushing yours as I ram my cock up your ass
and fuck you hard, really hard.  But I think you'd
like that - young handsome guys like you, in the
army....  I can imagine what your buddies do to you."

"No they don't!  We're all soldiers and don't do
things like that.  We're mostly married, anyway."

I laughed again.  "Since when did having a wife stop
soldiers enjoying the pleasure of each other?  But, no
matter - if you're a virgin, it will be all the more
fun for me."

Still keeping my voice low and sort of intimate, I
went on "Look, soldier, there's no point to all of
this, is there?  You know that I know that you're a
soldier - your very stance gives you away.  So why not
save yourself a whole lot of pain and degradation and
simply say it openly?  Just tell me openly and
honestly that you're a soldier, and that you and your
buddies were sent here on a spying mission, and it
will all be over.  That's the truth, isn't it?"

He stared at me, but  I could tell that his  defiance
was ebbing away.  "Very well then, have it your way!",
I said still quiet and calm, showing him that I was
totally in control.  "Bend forward over the desk -
you'll probably find you want to grip the edge of it
with your hands to give yourself something to hang on
to as I enter you...."

He looked at me, now extremely indecisive, but
shuffled forward, and lay his body gingerly across the
shiny metal surface of the desk.  I moved around to
stand behind him, and stroked my hand down his lower
back, allowing just the tip of one finger to poke
gently into the top of his ass crack, whilst my thumb
caressed the base of his spine.  I could feel his
whole body quivering slightly under my touch, and I
did begin to feel rather sorry for him - even if he
agreed  and confessed to me, he'd be fucked sooner or
later - I mean, why would anyone own a handsome young
guy like this and not fuck him?

I decided that gentleness was probably the way to
break him, and so I didn't spank him or even slap his
butt playfully.  Instead  I stood there behind him,
allowing the fabric of my shorts to press against his
bare butt, and my legs to rub against his naked
thighs.  "Oh boy, you're going to be fun....", I
whispered.  "Such a lovely body.....  And it's all so
pointless - once I've fucked you, I'm going to have to
take you outside and whip you... It's too messy to do
it before, as all the blood and flayed skin makes it
all but impossible to get into your butt.  Still, it's
your choice....."

Letting my shorts slip to the floor as I said this, I
began to play my dick up and down his ass crack - not
pushing in between the buttocks, but sliding it up and
down on the surface of them.  "Oh yes....", I
whispered again.  "I'm ready for you, boy.  Can you
feel my hard cock on your ass?  Well, in a few
moments, it's going to be in your ass...."

"No, please, no....", he whimpered.

I leaned forward, so my legs pressed against his, my
cock pushed along the crack of his ass, and my chest
was against his back.  I put my hands on his shoulders
and half wriggled forward to make myself comfortable.
"You like this, I think, boy.  I tell you what... I
think I'll just fuck you, and not whip you at all.
Then I'll tell all your buddies that I didn't need to
whip you as you enjoyed taking my cock so much that  I
decided to let you off the whipping.  I'll tell them
you didn't cry out with pain and shame as I fucked
you, but in ecstasy;  and that you begged me to fuck
you deeper, and harder...."

"No, sir, please, don't.....", he whispered, his voice
now matching mine.  But I sensed he didn't mean it...
So I shuffled around, and poked my hard dick, not only
hard but running with pre-cum, down into the warm,
moist cleft between his buttocks and let it slide over
the entrance to his ass.

He moaned now, very audibly, and began to move his
body almost in synchronisation with mine, as if
tempting my cock to enter him.  So I did, pushing
forward gently, oh so gently, in order to minimise any
pain to him but also to prolonging the exquisite
sensation as my cock head forced his sphincter open
and gradually slid in.   And, of course, once the
head's in, the rest is relatively easy, isn't it?  I
slipped forward so slowly and gently that he never
cried out at all, just moaned and groaned with the
sheer pleasure of it all.

When my pubes were pressed hard up against his tender
ass, I didn't immediately pull out and begin fucking
him - instead I moved around a little, just a very
little, to kind of "ream" his hole a bit, and now he
was definitely enjoying it, almost shouting "yes, oh,
yes,  please....." as I went about it.  And at some
point he looked back over his shoulder at my face
which was so close to him, and as he watched I
delicately bit his neck and shoulders, something that
a lot of men find totally erotic (and, of course, it
"marks" them as being under our control).

I was so turned on that I couldn't stay like this for
very long, so I did fuck him then, but gently, very
gently indeed - actually it was a whole lot of fun for
 me, too, to "play" his body as if it were a musical
instrument that would respond to my every touch,
rather than simply battering him with my brute
strength.  And when I'd cum, I lay there, buried in
him, enjoying the sensation of his sweaty skin against
mine.

I pulled out after a few minutes, then helped hi to
stand upright.  I faced him, putting my hands on his
shoulders, and said quietly "That was your first time,
wasn't it?  I reckon you liked it, though!"

He nodded, blushing, as if ashamed to admit it.  Then
he muttered "But my wife, the kids...."

"Don't worry.  There's a lot of married guys who
discover what sex is really all about.  But what are
we going to do now?  I don't want to have to flay the
flesh off you.....  And we both know the truth, so why
not admit it?  Telling the truth about your mission
can't be any harder than telling me that you actually
like sex with another guy...."

"No, please...."

"Yes!  You have to!  Now we're going to walk back in
there, and I'm going to tell them that I fucked you -
which is true.  And then you're going to tell them you
confessed.  And if you do that, I won't tell them that
you enjoyed being fucked.... OK?"

It took a couple of rounds of argument to get the poor
guy to agree, and I did feel truly sorry for him:  the
one who does confess is never popular with his
buddies.  And, of course, any hope he had of ever
seeing his wife and kids again was utterly futile:  a
young, handsome guy like that would be a sex slave for
many years, and the fact that he was known to have
been "straight" would only add to his attraction.

Back in the interrogation chamber, when he told his
buddies, they were angry at first, but then, when he
was pushed into the cage with them, my cum now
staining his thighs, it seemed as if they forgave him.


There was only one thing that then needed to be done,
and  later that day the Sheikh accompanied me o the
chamber once more, and this time the sergeant stood
there, said they were all soldiers on a reconnaissance
mission, and demanded to be given access to their
ambassador.

The Sheikh smiled, and stood there looking at them.
In his perfect Oxford-accented English, he said
quietly "I  am the ruler of this kingdom, and the
absolute monarch with total power.  My word is law,
and cannot be overridden by the courts.  As you have
confessed to entering my country illegally, with a
potentially malicious purpose, I find you guilty, and
sentence you.  Sentence you to slavery.  Lifelong
slavery.  You are no longer free men, but slaves."

He turned and walked out as they all began shouting
and screaming at him.  I stayed behind, and when they
had stopped, gave them the hard facts.  "Slavery is
legal here.  You have been condemned to be slaves, and
there is no appeal from the Sheikh's sentence.  So
later today we will begin the process of enslavement,
turning you from free men into slaves, slaves who will
bear the marks of slavery:  all slave stock here is
branded with a large 'S' on the butt, and you will
also receive an ownership brand on the upper arm.
Your slave identification number will be tattooed
indelibly into your forearm, and you will be collared.
 It may be that your bodies will be decorated n other
ways later, but, for the time being, those marks of
your new status will be both necessary, and
sufficient".

I turned and left, hearing the noise break out behind
me again.

Somehow the boy Marc was less than satisfactory in bed
that evening - I mean, these young guys are nice for a
bit, but when you can't fuck them it does get a bit
tedious.  And I do prefer a more mature guy, I think -
I lay there and thought of the feeling of the young
soldier was still with me and I definitely prefer the
harder, more mature muscle on a guy like that.  Still,
perhaps the Sheikh would elect to keep him about the
palace... Well, you can but hope, can't you?

End Of Part Three