Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2007 00:10:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Instrument, Part Five

THE INSTRUMENT

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part  Five

I felt the eyes of all the men in the room on me as I
stood there, the ridiculous scrap of white satin of
the loincloth barely concealing my manhood.  Or were
they really looking at Marc - his shaved, oiled body
looked somehow so young and vulnerable, and yet it was
clear that he was of an age when he ought to be
introduced properly to sex.  There's that time, isn't
there, when a body has all the innocence of youth and
yet has started to develop properly so that it is
indeed that of a man, albeit a man with development
still to do?

I heard the Sheikh call out "Before you begin, Steve,
display the boy properly for us.  Show my guests that
he is properly mature".

I knew what he wanted, of course - he wanted to see
Marc masturbated to climax, so that his seed could be
admired by the audience.  And I suppose it wasn't a
bad idea, actually - I wasn't going to fuck Marc
without lubrication as there's just no way that my
cock could enter his tight, virgin hole when it was
dry, without causing damage.    I wondered whether to
order Marc to wank himself, but I was concerned that
he'd start to argue about such an order, and that
might cause the Sheikh to be embarrassed when his
guests realised that he had such a wilful slave.  So
it seemed kinder to do it myself, and accordingly I
dropped to one knee by the side of Marc, and circled
one arm around his butt:  his body felt all hot and
sweaty as it nestled against me, and I could feel him
trembling slightly.  To reassure him I whispered "It's
OK, Marc, we've done this before.....", and reached up
with my other hand and began to stroke his cock into
life.

The room had gone eerily silent as they saw the
performance about to begin, but fortunately not so
silent that Marc's tiny "Don't, please, Steve, not
now, not in front of all these men...." could not be
heard by anyone other than me.  I didn't answer him
though, but instead continued to gently tease and
stroke his cock, and of course, as you would expect,
it began to stir into life and stiffen under my
fingers.  As I continued to stroke him, now curling my
fingers around his totally erect cock I could also
feel his buttocks clenching and unclenching against
the skin of my shoulder as I knelt there, and this
stated to turn me on - to my horror  I felt my own
cock begin to stiffen, and I sensed the tip begin to
nudge against the satin of the loincloth as I knelt
there (up until this point I'd been feeling a little
less embarrassed, as when I was on one knee the satin
hung down and concealed my tackle from the audience).

As hard as I tried, I  just couldn't stop myself
getting more and more excited - in fact, you all
probably know how it is:  once your cock has decided
its going to go erect, the more you think about it,
the more it seems to encourage it to happen!  I
realised that as I was wanking Marc my own cock had
now pushed aside the loincloth and was fully exposed
to the watching men, although fortunately I had not'
skinned back and so at least my cock head was  not
fully on display- just as well, as I knew that I'd be
leaking pre-cum and if it did pop out it would be all
shiny and ready for action.

My ears told me that Marc was about to cum - his
breathing had gone all ragged, and I could hear the
breath rushing in and out of him as I worked his cock
properly - letting my thumb and forefinger roughly
slide over the ridge of his cock head, and then
rasping the pad of my thumb right over his piss  slit.
 These actions were spreading the precum that was
dribbling out all over my fingers, and so it was
getting easier and easier to stroke him without fear
of causing a wanking scar, and so I allowed my fingers
to tighten on his shaft to give him even more
sensation and thus to hurry the climax along.

"OK, Marc", I said when I just knew he was ready
"Reach down and catch your cum - if you get any on the
marble floor here I'll have to spank you."

He didn't have time to protest as at that moment his
body started to shudder convulsively, and his spunk
shot out.  I stopped wanking him for a few moments,
but then started again, to make sure he was properly
"milked" dry - quite a lot of guys give up after the
first spurt, I know, but if you carry on you get to
shoot a whole lot more (although for guys with
sensitive cocks it's difficult to do yourself as you
get that peculiar mixture of pain and pleasure from
doing it, don't you?)  Marc's like that, and as  I
continued to wank him I could feel his whole body
shuddering against mine, and I had to curl my
restraining arm around him even tighter to prevent him
breaking away.

When  I was convinced he'd given everything he'd got,
I stopped and ran my fingers once more along his cock
from root to head, now squeezing his cock like when
you're emptying those final drops of piss out of
yourself when you've finished.  A few more tiny pearls
of cum appeared at his piss slit, but then it was
over.  I got to my feet, very conscious now of my own
rampant erection, but then held the naked body of Marc
in front of me to shield me from the audience's gaze -
I steered him around the room, past all the guests so
that they could inspect the big pool of creamy white
cum that was filling the palm of his hand.  His oiled,
sweaty buttocks rubbing against my cock didn't
actually help - my erection got harder and harder, but
at least no one could see it (although Marc must have
felt it, as it stabbed at him as we moved).  It was
stupid really - after all, they were all going to see
sooner or later, going to see my cock in action, but
somehow I was less concerned about this than I was at
being stared at and observed by their hungry eyes at
this moment.

The Sheikh called out "Enough! On with the show,
Steve", and with a kind of sinking feeling inside I
knew I had to start fucking Marc.  I ought to have
been delighted - I'd been looking forward to using his
ass ever since he had arrived, but I suppose I was
still enough of a prude to be concerned at doing this
in front of an audience!  I hesitated, and heard the
Sheikh call "Begin!", in a harsher tone, and knew I
now had no choice.

I knelt down on one knee again, and threw Marc across
it  so that his but was in the air.  He began to
protest and squirm so I slapped his ass several times,
hard, to remind him that I was in control, grabbed his
hand that was covered in cum and pulled it up and
smeared it down his ass crack.  Gripping his  neck
with one hand to keep him under my firm control, I
massaged the cum right down towards his hole, and
then, as my fingers were covered in cum, began to
gently push the tip of one finger inside him.

He began to whimper and plead "No, no, no....", but it
was no use -  I soon had my entire finger inside him
and began to gently ream it around to open him up a
bit, and then waited for his fresh cries of protest as
I gently slid another finger in beside the first.
I've done this lubing and stretching of virgins before
so I knew it's really better to go very slowly and
take you time - it's somehow more exciting for both
men, I find.  But I could sense the Sheikh's
impatience, and had to rush it:  ideally, I think you
need to get three fingers in and then really move them
apart to properly open up a guy if he's to take your
cock smoothly and easily.  Of course they don't always
appreciate that this is in their best interests, as a
little "discomfort" a this stage can save a lot of
pain later, and Marc was no exception:  as I forced
his hole open with my powerful fingers, he began to
scream and shout and swear, so I had to pull out, slap
his butt a few times to remind him of my  power,
before starting again.

When he had been giving me his instructions before the
evening began, the Sheikh had decided that Marc was
not to be put on a fucking horse.  That's the usual
way of breaking virgin slaves as you probably know, as
once their wrists are secured to the horse they're
pretty helpless, But he had said to me "No, Steve. The
boy is relatively weak compared with you, and my
friends are all used to seeing a slave violated on a
horse.  You can simply take him in any other way you
like, as it will be more interesting to see the slave
apparently free to resist you, and possibly even
trying to do so, but with you overcoming him.  It will
all add to the excitement, and it will be more like a
rape than the simple customary initial usage of a
slave.".

"I'm not sure I like the idea of raping anyone,
Highness..."

"Well you will not be raping anyone, will you?  The
boy is a slave, and a slave is merely an animal who
can be used in any way that his owner decides.  Only
free men can be raped, Steve."

Well, that seemed to shut off any possible arguments I
might have, and now here I was, with Marc in front of
me, and with me needing to fuck him against his will.
 Still, there was nothing to be done, so I snapped at
him to bend over and grasp his ankles - he guessed
what was about to happen, of course, and tried to
protest.  He was trying to break free so I grabbed him
by the upper arm and roughly slapped his ass two or
three more times, as he wriggled and squirmed in my
firm grip - all the men began to applaud, and I hit
him a bit harder on each stroke so that he began to
shout and scream: but got the message. - when I
stopped, he obediently bent over.

I prised his buttocks apart so I could see his hole -
it was  a little angry looking but was flexing and
contracting as if in anticipation.  I ripped away the
scrap of satin, which after all was pretty useless
anyway, and stroked my own cock once or twice just to
make sure it was maximally erect.  Then using one hand
to guide my cock, and curling the other one under him
so that he was in effect lying on my forearm, I
positioned the tip of my cock on his sphincter and
began to push.

Look it's not all that difficult, is it?  Earlier on
I'd told him that when there's a cock trying to get
inside you the thing to do  is not to resist - it
won't work, as a powerful cock is always going to
break through an ass hole.  If a guy has got you in
that position, I'd told him, the best thing to do was
to "go with the flow" and pretend you're about to take
a crap - that way your sphincter relaxes, and the cock
slides in.  Marc had kind of nodded in agreement, but
evidently he had not taken the lesson to heart - the
more I pushed, the harder he resisted, and now he was
writhing and squirming to try to escape me, and began
to shout and scream again.  There was nothing for it -
no point in prolonging things and trying to do it
gently - I pulled back slightly and then slammed
forwards into him, so that my cock head burst through
into him.

Well, once you're through, that's ninety percent of
it, isn't it?  He carried on screaming as I forced the
whole length of my cock home so that my pubes were
right up against the skin of his butt, and then stood
there for a moment.   The room had gone silent then,
except for Marc's sobbing, and it was almost as if I
could hear my own heavy breathing as I stood there
with him impaled on me.   I'd have enjoyed savouring
that feeling for a bit, but out of the corner of my
eye I could see the Sheikh give a small hand gesture
to me to indicate that I should continue, so I began
to fuck the boy.

At first I went slowly, taking long strokes so the
whole of my cock almost came out of him each time, but
you do need to vary it a bit, don't you?  So I changed
to a lot of fast, short strokes, with the sound of my
flesh crashing into his butt forming almost a constant
tone - but one that could clearly he heard above
Marc's cries.

Although I felt certain that the audience was enjoying
the sight of my powerful thighs and butt thrusting in
and out, I don't actually like fucking when standing
up all that much. So after a time I swept Marc's feet
away from under him and lowered him onto the floor,
then threw my body down on top of him, reached
underneath myself and positioned my cock at his hole
once more, and began to fuck him like that - well, at
least he stopped shouting quite so much, as the weight
of my body tended to crush the breath out of him.

It's strange, actually - I'd been so embarrassed about
this whole thing when the Sheikh had first decided on
it, and earlier on I'd genuinely hated exposing my
cock to all the watching men.  But as my inbuilt
animal instincts took over from the "rational" me, all
this was forgotten - as I fucked away all I could
think of was the incredible sensation in my cock, and
the way that my body was working to do that which
millions of years of evolution had designed it to do.
This was what men did - strong ones fucked weaker
ones, and everything else was forgotten as I felt my
climax building.  I suppose I was dimly aware of the
cheers of the men in the background and I suppose I
was exhilarated at the thought that they were admiring
my body - well, we all like other men to be a bit
envious of us, don't we?  But that was a secondary
consideration - it was the sex that was driving me!

However much you're enjoying fucking, it has to stop
sooner or later though, doesn't it?  In fact the more
you're enjoying it, paradoxically the sooner it tends
to stop as your cock just can't restrain itself.  And
so it was now - all too soon  I felt my balls
contracting and then the torrent of cum shooting along
my dick right up into Marc.  I gave a great cry - more
a shout of triumph -  and plunged into him for one
last glorious time, and finally lay on him, conscious
of my butt twitching as my aftershocks forced a few
last dribbles of cum out of me.  I was panting and my
heart was racing, and my sweat-soaked chest slid on
Marc's oiled and sweaty back.  I buried my face in
that lovely part of a man, between his neck and
shoulders, and bit Marc so that he cried out once more
and tried to get away from under me - I  really can't
help it:  after a really great fuck I want to leave my
mark on the other guy a bit more permanently.  And
it's not as if it would damage the Sheikh's property
permanently, after all - the dark bruise would fade
after a few days.

I'd have stayed like that for some time - I like to
feel close to the guy I've fucked - but I knew I was
meant to be giving a performance and the audience
would not be sharing in my enjoyment of this part of
it, so slowly and reluctantly I pulled out of Marc and
got to my feet.  My cock was still mostly erect,
although now it was slimed with cum and sweat, and as
I stood there I realised that they could all see my
head properly as my 'skin had fully retracted - and,
actually, I didn't care.  I reached down and began to
pull Marc to his feet, but then remembered what the
Sheikh had said, and as he was half up, I pushed him
down so that he was now kneeling in front of me.
Keeping him in place with one hand on each of his
shoulders, I pushed my dick towards his mouth and said
quietly "Clean me up."

Marc shook his head, and even though I pushed the head
of my cock right up against his lips, he refused to
open them!  Well, you can't have that, can you?  I
mean my cock was perfectly wholesome as we'd cleaned
out his ass so thoroughly, and all I needed him to do
was to tongue the cum and sweat off it - he had sucked
me off before, so it wasn't as if it was something
totally new to have my cock in his mouth.  His refusal
was just irrational and stubborn, and I wasn't having
it:  I slapped him hard on the face, twice, once on
each cheek, and saw tears forming in his eyes as the
blows must really have hurt.  I pushed my cock forward
again, and now he did as he ought to have done at
first, and nuzzled and licked at me to clean me up.  I
did feel sorry for him, I suppose, but it was his own
fault - I mean licking sweat and cum off a guy's cock
is no big deal is it, really?  It's different if it's
all covered in shit, but this absolutely was not so on
this occasion.

Well that was it really - I pulled him to his feet
then and kind of led him around the room so that the
guests could get a last look at him - or were they in
fact looking at me?  They probably weren't used to
having seen a white guy who was a free man fucking in
public  - and a couple of them actually reached out
and ran a hand over my butt as I passed, as if trying
to detect if I had been branded but it had somehow
been filled in!  It was all pretty humiliating, I
suppose - a guy ought to be able to choose who touches
his butt - but I couldn't risk upsetting the Sheikh's
guests by telling them to keep their hands to
themselves!

There was lively chatter from the guests now, and they
almost lost interest in us so I led Marc back over to
the alcove where he had been standing earlier, and
reached down and snapped the shackle chain closed
around his ankle again.  I don't suppose there was any
risk of him trying to run away - after all, where
would he go?  But keeping a slave shackled like that
does tend to emphasise his status and signals that he
is owned property and not a free man.  Once I'd done
this, one of the slaves who was a waiter attending to
the guests' needs handed me the strip of satin that I
had discarded earlier, and I tucked it into the gold
chain around my waist so that I was a little more
"decent" again.  I wanted to go off then, go back to
my quarters and shower, and dress properly, but the
Sheikh had ordered me to stay until the evening was
over and so I made my way, as inconspicuously as I
could, back to my seat behind the low table.

The Sheikh was looking pleased, which was good, and
was clearly enjoying the congratulations of his guests
at having laid on such a spectacle for them.  But now
it was his turn to surprise them again - he clapped
his hands in command, and the huge double doors at one
end of the feast hall were heaved open by the slaves.


The soldiers who were to be given away as gifts were
brought in, and the Sheikh's ingenuity had been at
work so that what we all saw was not merely naked men,
but something totally and completely humiliating,
something designed to demonstrate that they were not
really men at all but something else - mere animals
who could be disposed of at the Sheikh's pleasure.

I've told you how each of them had been branded,
'skinned if necessary, trimmed and shaved, exercised,
and generally "bronzed" so that, individually, each
was a very good example of an expensive white slave.
But now, displayed as they were, all together, they
were a stunning sight:  each had been fitted with a
ball gag that was held around his head by a metal
strap, his wrists had been shackled to the end of a
bar about a metre long, and this bar in turn was
suspended from a frame on wheels.  A leather cord had
been bound tightly around the root of the cock and
balls of each of them, and in addition to forcing
their genitals to be more "displayed" instead of
merely hanging there, it had of course caused most of
them to sport erections as it was somewhat like
wearing a cock ring.  The frame was wheeled into the
centre of the room, and the former soldiers hung there
from it as if they were sides of beef in a butcher's
shop!  I'd rarely seen men reduced to such an abject
state, and as a statement of the power of the Sheikh,
it was truly impressive.

Clearly the sheikh's guests were impressed, but when
he named the most important amongst them as the
recipients of one of these slaves as a gift, there was
genuine astonishment:  slaves are, after all, very
expensive (you may not realise it, but even a bred
nigga, when he's mature, is worth a lot - it's all the
costs of maintaining him, as he grows to maturity),
and it was clear that these men , being very obviously
in prime condition, virile (as evidenced by their
erections), and white, were very expensive indeed.

The selected guests went over to the rack and began to
"inspect" the men as they hung there - I watched as
the bodies writhed in a futile attempt to escape the
fingers and hands of the guests as they tweaked
nipples to judge the sensitivity, and squeezed the
balls to make sure they were genuine.  This last bit
was of course rather disrespectful to the Sheikh -
when you buy slaves in the market, as I had sometimes
done for the Sheikh, you do of course squeeze the
testicles to make sure they are genuine and not
prosthetics inserted into an otherwise empty scrotum
after an earlier castration.  There had been a
fashion, apparently, some years before for castrating
young males at puberty as they were thought to be more
"biddable", but improvements in control technology
such as the new mylar whips, the tracing chips
embedded under the skin, and the electric shock
control collars, had rendered this unnecessary.  It
was now felt that when buying a male slave you wanted
a "real man" so that he could if necessary be bred.
The market had responded by inserting prosthetic balls
made of some wonder plastic into the empty sacs of the
already gelded, and with a casual fondle these felt
very lifelike:  you did need to squeeze suddenly, very
hard, to make the slave shout out to determine if the
testicles were the genuine thing!  But surely the
guests would not think that the Sheikh would offer
them less than perfect slaves, would they?  On the
other hand, perhaps they were keyed up sexually after
seeing my performance, and were simply enjoying
causing a little harmless pain to the slaves as some
sort of sexual relief for themselves.

The Sheikh was engaging his guests in conversation as
they carried out their inspection, and at some point
he called me over.  "Steve, my old friend here has
just made me a most generous offer for you", he told
me.  "It's a pity you are a free man, as I want my
guests to go home satisfied.  But perhaps we can
convince him that at least one of these slaves is at
least as good as you.  Be so good as to strip off that
loincloth, and go and stand by the third one from the
end, so we can make a proper comparison."

I went to protest, but saw a look of raw anger blaze
for a moment in the Sheikh's eyes, and decided not to
challenge him.  I pulled the strip of satin away once
more (not that it was really doing all that much good,
I suppose), and went and stood by the side of the
slave he had indicated.  Both the Sheikh and his guest
pushed and manoeuvred me into position so that the
slave and I were back to back, our butts and shoulder
blades touching, and they then discussed how we were
both the same height, and even had the same general
body shape!  The slave was moving and shuffling around
as all this went on, and I hated the way that our
bodies were sliding over each other - well, not so
much hated it, as hated being used in this humiliating
way.  I was then told to come around to the front, and
both men started to discuss our cocks and balls,  the
Sheikh claiming that we were effectively identical,
and his guest alleging that I was hung better.  To
settle the argument they agreed that we should compare
ourselves to each other directly, and the jewelled
hand of the Sheikh's guest reached out and began to
stroke the semi-erect slave to full erection.  The
Sheikh then did the same to me!  Well, he'd touched my
cock before, I suppose, kind of in passing, when I'd
been having sex with a new slave as a private
entertainment for him.   But this was different - this
was the man deliberately fondling and stroking my
cock, and I didn't like it.  Blatantly reaching out
and starting to jack me off in public just wasn't on!
I reached down and grasped his wrist, and instantly
knew I'd done the wrong thing as he hissed in English,
in the hope that the guests would not hear, "How dare
you!  I am the supreme ruler here, and it is forbidden
to touch my person.  Let go of my wrist
immediately..."

I did as he said, and had to stand there as he
continued to stroke me to erection, and then have the
added indignity of him sliding my 'skin back.  "See",
he now said in a jocular tone to his guest, "This is
the only real way that Steve differs from a slave -
all my slaves are of course 'skinned, but as a free
man, Steve has choice...."

They then decided that the only real way to judge
whose cock was the longer was to have me face the
slave and then move forward so that our cocks were
side by side, and move forward again to see whether
the head of my cock touched him first, or vice versa!
It wasn't entirely fair, as the slave had of course
been trimmed and shaved for display whereas my bush,
although trimmed somewhat, was still mostly that of a
free man.  So it was difficult to judge exactly when
we made contact with each other - but at least it
seemed to satisfy the guest, and he and the Sheikh
were laughing and enjoying the experience of being
able to compare a slave so intimately with a free man.
  I suppose you'd say "so that was OK, then", but,
frankly, it left me feeling really humiliated and
somehow as if I was less of a man.

Once the guests had made their selections form the
slaves, guards released each one in turn from the
hanging frame, neatly cuffed their hands behind  them,
 then attached a chain "leash" to the leather cinches
around each man's balls.  The handle of the leash was
handed to each of the principal guests by the Sheikh,
and they left, tugging the hapless enslaved soldiers
behind them.

You might think that all of this excitement would be
sufficient for one night, but of course the Sheikh,
whilst entertaining his guests and enjoying the
spectacle wit the rest of them, had not had sexual
relief.  Consequently when the guests had finally left
and the Sheikh had retired to his chamber, I was
summoned to go there by one of the slaves to perform
my customary duties.

One of the things that I  have to do as the Sheikh's
instrument is to help him with his own sexual
endeavours - well, not help him exactly, but make sure
that all goes well..  There ought not to be a problem
with a relatively slight young boy like Marc, but when
we have recently acquired a mature slave that the
Sheikh finds particularly attractive, you do have to
take precautions!  A lot of these older men have been
selected because of their physique and power, and many
of them do not wish to take the Sheikh's cock, even
though he is their owner.  Things could go badly wrong
if they resisted him violently, so I'm in attendance
to make sure that doesn't happen - with my background
in fighting, I'm more than a match for even the
biggest, toughest slave, and very often my mere
presence is sufficient to ensure they behave properly
and submit to the Sheikh's will.  Sometimes, though, I
think the Sheikh almost goads them deliberately, in
the hope of causing a little trouble:  I think he
finds it extra erotic to have me and the slave fight
in front of him, and then to take the slave when he
has been totally vanquished and overpowered by me.

Tonight should be easy though, as I said, as I didn't
think Marc was in any way able to offer any resistance
after what he'd been through, and, in any case, even
if he did, it would hardly mean a fight - I'd probably
just put him across my knees and spank him again (and
that would certainly amuse the Sheikh anyway!).

All was not quite as simple as I had imagined, though.
 When I was admitted to the Sheikh's bed chamber
through the security gates (assassination is a
constant worry for those in power like him), I found
that the Sheikh had not wanted to fuck Marc normally -
his usual way was to have the slave secured with a
cuffed collar, so that the slave's wrists were
fastened securely behind his neck, and then to push
the slave face down on to the bed so that his ass was
ready for fucking.  Tonight, though, the Sheikh was
exhausted after all the effort of holding his party -
he had been under considerable stress, and was so
tired that he wanted just to lie there and have the
slave do all the work.  His enormous body lay
spread-eagled on his back in the middle of the giant
bed, his cock sticking up into the air.  He was
commanding Marc to get onto the bed, to straddle him,
and lower himself onto his cock, and the boy had been
refusing.

I had showered and changed into my normal "work"
uniform of shorts and a polo, and as I entered the
Sheikh called out cheerily "Oh Steve, you do
disappoint me!  I thought you looked truly excellent
dressed only in that chain, and now you have gone and
covered that magnificent body of yours!"

That was good news in a way, I suppose - if the Sheikh
had been in a foul mood and Marc had dared to disobey
him, the best Marc might have expected would have been
a severe caning, and a proper whipping, or even
gelding, might not have been beyond the bounds of
possibility.  But as long as the Sheikh was cheerful
there was less risk of that.  The Sheikh was almost
laughing as he called out "persuade the boy that he is
to ride my cock, Steve.  I am tired, and need to sleep
but cannot do so whilst my balls are loaded with cum.
You've opened him up, so it ought to be easy for him
to take me - I can't understand why he is not
obeying!"

"Come on, Marc!  You told me that you had sex with one
of your girlfriends with her riding your cock - it's
just the same for you - hop up on to the bed, straddle
your owner, then lower yourself on to that magnificent
cock.... And when you're comfortable with it right up
inside you, start pumping up and down.  You've seen it
from the lying down position, so it ought to be
obvious what's needed when you're on top.... "

"No, Steve!  It's disgusting...."

"Marc, how can anything that two men can do together
be 'disgusting', as you call it?  As you've already
found out tonight, your ass can easily accommodate a
cock. So let's have no more of this nonsense, and get
down to work!  You heard your owner say that he was
tired, and you are preventing him from sleeping."

I could see the Sheikh beginning to lose his mood of
general affability, and thought that Marc did not
realise just how close he was to being in really
serious trouble.  I didn't want to continue arguing
with him, so instead I strode over to where he was
sitting defiantly on the floor, put my hands under his
armpits and dragged him to his feet.  He wasn't all
that heavy and  I actually lifted him off his feet and
began to carry him over to the bed.  He started
screaming and shouting then and kicking out at me, and
fortunately the Sheikh seemed amused by it - but
again, I didn't want to risk it for too long.  So I
dropped him, suddenly, so that he landed with a crash
on the floor, unable to do anything to help prevent
his fall with his hands cuffed, and that did at least
shut him up.  I expect it was quite painful on his
butt to land like that, but it seemed to teach him a
lesson!

"Now, Marc", I said, as sternly as I could, as it was
rather amusing to see him sprawled helplessly there.
"Just behave, will you?  You've felt my hand on your
butt already today, and if you keep up this silly
protesting, I'll be forced to give you another good
spanking.  It's inevitable, and you know it - you're a
desirable young slave, and your owner is going to use
your ass for the purpose for which it is intended - to
give pleasure to him.  And we can either do it the
easy way,  with your co-operation, or we can do it
after you've been hurt a bit more.  But it's going to
happen, absolutely for certain.  So stop all that
noise, and use your brains a bit!"

I bent down and hauled him to his feet, again with my
hands under his armpits (which were running with
sweat), and basically marched him over to the bed.  We
both climbed on it, both straddled the Sheikh with our
feet on either side of his huge body, and then I  put
my mouth close to Marc's ear and whispered "Now when
you're more experienced, and you can use your hands to
help, you'll do all this by yourself.  But for now I'm
going to lower you gently down onto your owner's cock,
and you're going to relax - remember what I said about
pretending to crap and not trying to stop a cock going
in?  It would have been a lot easier this evening if
you'd taken my advice, so don't continue to be stupid,
and do it properly now."

Well it's not all that easy, as some of you may know -
you really need your hands to pull your butt apart and
guide the cock into you, don't you?  But once I'd
lowered Marc a bit and he was taking the strain on his
thighs and kind of squatting there, I leapt off the
bed, knelt by the side of it, and reached under him to
take the Sheikh's cock (giving it a companionable
squeeze as I did so, so that he moaned a little with
pleasure), and then told Marc to lower himself fully.

I always think it's interesting to see the look on the
face of a guy as he lowers himself onto your cock, and
now I watched Marc intently as he went  through those
same feelings that I believe everyone does - the look
of apprehension as he worries that it will hurt, the
faint shock as the hot tip of the cock head touches
his sphincter, and then the grimace almost, that look
of fierce determination, as he lowers himself gently,
ever so slowly and gently, downwards, hoping that the
pain will not be too intense as his sphincter pops.  A
lot of guys don't trust their leg muscles to hold
them, I know, and sort of lean a it backwards, bracing
themselves with their hands on the bed, but this
option was not available to Marc - still he was
relatively light, and his legs, after all the exercise
he'd been doing, were well muscled.  I thought about
getting on the bed again and helping him by taking
some of the weight of his body, but decided against it
as he needed to learn how to do these things for
himself.

Actually I think all the stretching I'd done, and the
epic fucking I'd given him earlier, had loosened him
up considerably.  He was probably a bit sore and
somewhat uncomfortable, but he was also suitably
eased, and so in fact the Sheikh's cock slid into him
relatively easily, and soon was totally buried so that
Marc's butt was almost resting on the Sheikh' thighs.
"Take your weight, boy!", I snapped.  "Your owner
doesn't want you using him as a stool!  Now, start to
ride up and down...."

To his credit, I think Marc was sensible enough to see
that if he performed properly the whole thing would
soon be over, and after a very short time he was
riding up and down in a manner that I might almost
call enthusiastically on the Sheikh's cock.  The
Sheikh seemed to be enjoying it, too, until he cried
"Enough!  Get off me, and finish me with your mouth."

Marc had sucked my cock often enough in his initial
training, so this simple request ought not to have
caused him any particular problems.  But instead, he
began to say "No....", and before he then spoiled all
the good will he had built up with his owner, I leapt
on the bed, pulled him upwards off the Sheikh's cock,
and stood him down by the  side of the bed.  I reached
down and put my hand between his thighs and grabbed
his balls, and then hissed "Do as your owner
commands.... Unless you'd like me to squeeze these
balls of yours, and squeeze them hard...."

Fortunately he then did as he had been commanded,
taking the Sheikh's cock delicately between his lips,
and starting to suck at it with some degree of
enthusiasm.  I thought I ought to continue to hold his
balls, though, "just in case".  Then I saw the Sheikh,
and he was smiling as Marc's lips and tongue raised
him to his climax, and I knew everything would be all
right.

I watched carefully, though, and as it was clear that
the Sheikh was about to cum, I reached over and held
Marc's head down so that his face was pressed into the
pubes and fleshy body of the Sheikh - the lad couldn't
therefore help but take the Sheikh's cum into his
mouth, and it was only after I'd seen his throat spasm
several times as he struggled to swallow the Sheikh's
seed that I let go, so that he could lift his head up.

The Sheikh lay there breathing heavily for a time,
then smiled at me.  "This little slave has potential,
Steve.  I think I will keep him with me tonight, so he
can service me should I awake."

"Are you certain, Highness.... He is not fully trained
yet, and although he is only sixteen his lithe frame
belies his real strength...."

"You are a good and faithful servant, Steve, but you
worry too much.  I am confident that I can control
this slave, but in any case I have the alarm button at
the bedside and the guards can be in here almost
instantly."

"Highness, it is still risky - he could injure you
before you could reach the button.... Perhaps I should
stay, too, to make sure...."

"No, Steve.  That will not be necessary.  There may be
things I wish to do with the boy that I would prefer
to do in private.  Retire to your own chamber, as
tomorrow we will tackle the remaining one of the
captured soldiers, the one I retained for my own
use.... And you need to be fresh and rested in order
to mount him."

He made a dismissive gesture as he said this, and I
knew it would be unwise to disobey him.  As I looked
back I saw that the Sheikh had thrown wide the
bedclothes and stretched one of his arms across the
bed, and gestured for Marc to lie beside him.  The boy
stretched his thin, white almost hairless body
alongside the Sheikh's  bloated, hairy flesh, the
Sheikh wrapped his arm around Marc's shoulders and
pulled the boy into total intimate closeness to him,
and pulled the covers over them.

"Now, my little slave, let us sleep... And when I
awake I will have my pleasure of you again....", I
heard the Sheikh mutter.  To my surprise, I saw Marc
snuggle up companionably against the Sheikh, and put
his arm over the big man's hairy chest as if to more
completely experience the sensation of their
togetherness.  I watched as the bed clothes moved,
indicating that Marc had thrown his leg over the
Sheikh, too, so that he was half astride the big man's
thigh, and I couldn't help but wonder how the Sheikh
was enjoying having Marc's hard cock pressed into his
pubes.

If only I'd realised the trouble that this first
intimacy between the Sheikh and Marc would ultimately
lead to I would have mad some further protest and
broken it up.  But it's easy to be wise after the
event, isn't it?

End Of Part Five