Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 13:05:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Story: A Slave's Life, Part 8

A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 8

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

There was a change in our work routine the next day,
as we'd finally finished digging out the trenches for
the foundations of the new building, and it was time
to start filling them with cement.   I'd though that
they'd use a cement mixer, or perhaps have it
delivered ready-mixed, as you would in England, but
I'd forgotten, I suppose, that part of the purpose of
having us slaves was to enable our owner to have the
pleasure of seeing naked men hard at work on tough
physical tasks.

Just as we'd run up to the site as usual and were
getting our shovels out, there was the sound of
lashing and shouting and a cart came into view - a
cart pulled by six sweating naked men,  who were being
heavily lashed by an Overseer.  All the men were
black, and they were all exceptional specimens, well
over six two.  It looked just as if they'd been chosen
to be clones of each other and this effect was
heightened as they were all totally shaved all over -
there wasn't a hair between them - and their skins
shone under the sun just as if they'd been oiled (as I
later learned they had been!).  In addition to their
neck chains with the locator mechanism, they were
cinched, like us.  But welded around their shoulders
and chest were harnesses of chain, and these were in
turn attached to the cart by further chains.  Their
Overseer walked alongside the men "encouraging" them
with his whip, and, again like us, these seemed to be
designed to stimulate and urge the men onwards, rather
than do permanent damage to their bodies.

The cart drew to a halt, and our Overseer told us to
unload it - it was full of the 100lb sacks of cement,
and we had to put them on our shoulders and carry them
to where a neat pile was being made.  The six blacks
stood there panting and recovering  whilst this was
going on, but the instant we had the last sack off
their Overseer "drove" them away.

We scurried around "preparing" things - using shovels
to clear a flat area of the coarse scrub that covered
the ground, and so on.  We even had the totally
unexpected luxury of doing nothing for several
minutes, as it seemed we were waiting for the cart to
return - which it eventually did, full of sand and
aggregate.

We had to start work in earnest then, firstly
unloading the cart into a big heap, and then working
away at mixing cement manually - we had to measure
precise numbers of shovelsful of sand and aggregate,
add the requisite number of shovelsful of cement
powder, then thoroughly mix it with water before
loading it into barrows and taking it over to be
tipped into the trenches we'd dug the previous days.
After the wait for the load of cement and aggregate
initially, the team pulling the cart managed to keep
up with us, so we never stopped for the rest of the
morning, and after our break, resumed the backbreaking
shovelling and stirring once more.

During the afternoon we saw a light rickshaw arriving,
and the Overseer called to us that it was our owner
who had come to survey progress, and that on no
account were we to stop work - indeed, he "encouraged"
us a little with his whip.  "Your owner needs to see
that you're properly stretched", he told us.  "Keeping
a big slave operation like this going is an expensive
business, and he needs to know he's getting his value
for money out of you slaves."

Value for money?  What the fuck was it costing him,
after he'd paid for us to be captured and enslaved?
No clothes, the slave biscuits, no proper housing
other than the bare pen....  I suppose he had costs
for Overseer and guards, but then he'd have some of
that anyway, wouldn't he, if he had to supervise paid
workers?

We worked on, but I saw that the owner's rickshaw was
pulled by the slave Karl that I'd met the first day,
and I remembered that Stu told me that he was the
owner's favourite "pony".  Karl was totally naked
except for the security chain around his neck, and he
wasn't even cinched - as he moved, his cock and balls
were bouncing up and down in line with his motion, and
now I was used to being cinched, I thought how
uncomfortable it must be for him - although I suppose
he'd be used to it.  Unlike the blacks pulling the
cart, he wasn't even chained to his rickshaw - I
guessed it was the ultimate in control for the owner,
to have this magnificent naked man so in his power
that he could be allowed total freedom like this and
be secure in the knowledge that Karl would perform his
assigned role.

The rickshaw pulled up, and the owner sat there for a
couple of minutes watching us.  Now that I could
observe him more closely I could see that he was
probably in his late forties, big and powerfully
built, and with an air of authority about him.  He was
wearing a kind of traditional long Arab robe in white,
but his face and head were uncovered and he had short,
iron-grey hair closely cut.

He got out of the rickshaw and came over to speak to
the overseer, who in turn came to me.  "Your owner
wants to inspect you now that you have been here for
two weeks.   Go over to him, and kneel. And remember,
if he speaks to you and requires an answer, you use
the correct mode of address.  If you fail in any of
this, the whole team will be punished when he has
gone.  Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Careful, slave!  Is that the proper mode?  Try
again... Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good.  Now go over, kneel, and make obeisance to your
owner.  Remember, he totally controls your life, and
if he is displeased with you things can become very
unpleasant, and he can even decide to sell you on to
the mines..."  Once again, I felt a chill run through
me - not only because I'd heard bad things about the
miens, but primarily because the idea that the owner
could sell me was so wrong:  I was a man, not an
object like a car.  You couldn't - or shouldn't - sell
men.

But what could I now do - nothing!  So I jogged over
to stand in font of my owner - yes, I did think of him
as this, even though I found it difficult still to get
used to the concept of "owner" and "slave" - and
remembering what the Overseer had told me I knelt on
the hot ground, and bent forward to touch my head to
the ground.  It's so utterly humiliating to do this in
front of another man:  you demonstrate your complete
subservience to him. And touching your forehead to the
ground means that your ass is raised in the air, and
your whole body is exposed to his gaze as he looks
down at you.

"On your feet, slave, and stand with your hands behind
your neck."  His voice was deep and calm, and you
could tell that he was used to being obeyed.  So I
scrambled to my feet, and clasped my hands behind my
neck - I realised that when you stand like this your
chest is almost automatically thrust out to display
your pecs to their best advantage, and, of course,
there's absolutely no possibility of concealing any
part of your lower body

My owner said "Turn around - rotate slowly", and I
kind of shuffled my feet to do a complete turn in
front of him.

"Good", he said, to himself.  Then to me "Excellent.
When I saw you I knew that you would have a pleasing
body, and now that that silly white band where you hid
it from the sun has been obliterated, I can see that I
was proven right."

He mover closer to me, and ran his hands over my pecs,
then to my waist, where he probed his fingers into my
muscles quite hard.  He moved around behind me and I
could feel his strong hands running over my shoulders,
then down to my waist again.  It was as if he was
inspecting some show animal - which, I suppose, that's
what I was as far as he was concerned.

"Excellent, too.  Much increased muscle tone.  And our
regime has got rid of that thin layer of fat that your
idle Western lifestyle was starting to lay down."

He reached down to take my cock in his hand, and I
started backwards as I still wasn't used to having my
intimate parts touched, except in the context our sex
at night.

"Easy, boy.  This cock belongs to me, remember!"

He rolled my cock around in his hands, and I tried as
hard as I could not to get an erection.  I failed the
moment he started to 'skin me back, exposing my moist
cock head in the palm of his hand and stroking it with
his thumb - I'm so sensitive there that there was just
no way I could avoid  getting completely hard, and I
knew that small trickles of pre-cum would be forcing
themselves out of my piss slit.

"Hmmmm....", he was musing to himself. Then he
addressed me.  "I allowed you to keep your 'skin
initially - normally all of my slaves are of course
cut as no part of their bodies should be hidden from
their owner.  And I think those long 'skins that some
men have, tailing past the end of their cock heads,
really spoil their general look and appearance.  But I
left yours, as an experiment, as there were intriguing
glimpses of your piss slit even when you were 'skinned
fully forward.  But, on reflection, I have decided
that I was wrong - you're far too sensitive with a
'skin, and your head needs constant exposure.  So my
veterinarian will 'skin you shortly."

"Now, slave", he went on, "Are you adjusting to life
here?  I have seen the tapes from your holding pen,
and you seem to be partaking fully of sex with your
fellows..."

I was so astonished to think that anyone could have
been videoing our actions at night and viewing them,
that all I could think of to say was "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good!  Losing your 'skin won't affect sex - indeed,
you'll be less sensitive and so you'll be able to fuck
away for longer.  Does that please you?"

"Sir, no, sir... I like it the way I am, I....."

"Silence!   You do not have opinions,  You neither
like nor dislike things.  You are a slave, and slaves
accept whatever their masters command for them.  If I
consider that sex will be better for you as you will
be able to fuck longer, then that is as it will be.
Now, perform your obeisance again, and return to
work!"

I knelt humiliatingly again, but my owner called me to
back to my feet.

"One more thing - I know your cock is in good form,
but I have not had an independent verification of your
ass hole.

He turned towards his rickshaw, and called "Pony, over
here!"

Karl came towards us, and I saw his huge cock swinging
in front of him.

"Kneel slave", the owner snapped at me, indicating
that I should do so in front of him, "touch your head
to the ground, and raise your ass high in the air."

I could guess what was going to happen to me, and I
wanted to scream at him that I wasn't a salve, that I
was a free man really, and that I wasn't going to be
raped by Karl!  But I knew that there was nothing I
could do about it now - there was no way I could
escape the estate, with my security chain around my
neck.  And if I dared disobey my owner, it would not
just be me that would suffer, but all the other guys
in my group as well.  So I gritted my teeth and knelt
there, starting to sweat with dreadful apprehension
about what was going to happen to me.

It came soon enough - Karl knelt behind me, and I felt
his strong hands pull my ass cheeks apart, then I
flinched as something hit my sensitive pucker - Karl
had spat a big gob of saliva at my hole, and his
finger was now probing me and almost massaging it in.
But it was a very cursory attempt at lubing me -
nothing like the prolonged, gentle massage that Craig
had done.

And I heard him spit again, and, looking back, saw him
rubbing his big, engorged cock with his saliva .  Then
it was pressing against me, and he really pressed
hard.  He forced himself forward, and put his big arms
around my waist d I knelt there, to hold me back
against him.

My sphincter still resisted him, and I was really
hurting.  I was starting to panic, and sweat was
pouring out from all over me.  I felt him pull away
slightly, and thought that it might be over, but it
was only so that he could gather a little space so
that he could thrust forward at me.... And his cock
head did now penetrate me.  It was so painful, though,
that I gave a scream, but Kurt didn't seem to care:
once through my ring of muscle, he carried on
thrusting forwards until I could feel his hot belly
pressed against my ass.

I was sobbing now, as I was in such agony and distress
from this brutal entry, but my owner shouted
"Silence, slave, else I'll order a whipping for your
fellows."  So I gritted my teeth, and tried to
restrain my lungs from providing air for my cries.

"Well, pony, how is the slave?"

"Master, very tight, master. Almost as if he is a
virgin."  Kurt was almost grunting as he said this, so
I knew he'd found it difficult.

"Interesting.  Proceed to fuck him to completion, and
make it quick as I have other things to do today."

"Master, yes, master!"

Kurt started to fuck me, and unlike Craig's gentle
slithers in and out of me, this was just hard and fast
- Kurt withdrew almost the entire length of his cock,
then slammed it back into me in one quick movement
with no consideration at all for what it was doing for
me.  Was he doing this because he liked hard, rough
fucking like this, or because he was obeying our
owner's order to get it over with quickly?  I didn't
know, and, frankly, I didn't care - all I knew was
that it was hurting like hell, and I wanted him out of
me.

My body reacted almost automatically and I tried to
buck and wriggle to get him off me and put an end to
my torture, but Kurt evidently had done this before as
his arms gripped me tighter and tighter, making it
impossible for me to escape.

On and on it went, harder and harder and faster and
faster, and I could hear Kurt's breathing change to
harsh gasps with the effort he was making, and little
low grunts were coming from deep inside him.  Then,
suddenly, he cried "Yesssss....", and he slammed into
my ass one last time and then remained completely
buried in me up to the hilt of his cock, as he pumped
his cum up into me.

Even though he must have been in that state when
you've just cum and you need a moment to recover
yourself, there was no respite for Kurt:  the owner
had no consideration for him, and told him to get to
his feet as they needed to be off.  Kurt pulled out of
me, and stood there - his chest was heaving up and
down from his exertion, and there was a slick of his
cum hanging from the end of his deflating cock.  His
cock was covered in cum, sweat and my ass juices, and
the pungent smell drifted to me on the still air.

"Get up", the owner commanded me, and I got to my feet
and stood looking at Kurt.  I could feel his cum
gently trickling out of my ass hole and running down
the inside of my thighs, and when I instinctively
reached down to touch it, and then pulled my hand up I
saw there were traces of blood, too!

The owner saw me looking with horror at this, and
said, almost kindly, "Don't worry - that often happens
with you new slaves as Kurt is so big and there can be
a little tearing.  You'll be sore for a few days, but
there won't be any permanent damage as he knows what
he's doing."

As he finished speaking, he called for the water boy,
and Stu came running over with his water sack slung
over his shoulders.

"Clean the cock of my pony", the owner told him. "I
can't have him going around all day stained like
that."

Stu looked at Kurt and me, and he knew what must have
happened.  He looked at me almost in desperation, but
did as he'd been instructed - he splashed water out of
his water bag onto Kurt's now semi-flaccid cock, then
reached down and rubbed his hands all over it to clean
it.
It only took a few moments, and the owner then
commanded Kurt to bring the rickshaw over.

He looked arrogantly proud, standing there between the
shafts, completely naked and unadorned except for his
security collar, and the owner climbed aboard.  He
flicked idly at Kurt's magnificent ass with his whip -
not hard, but almost as if he was using it as a means
of giving orders, rather than as a punishment or
"encouragement", and Kurt jogged off, gradually
getting faster as he took the strain of the owner and
the light carriage.

It looked as if Stu wanted to say something to me, but
he couldn't, of course, and so he gave me a look of
encouragement, then loped off to water the men who
were still hard at work.

There was nothing else for me to do but to return to
my mates and carry on with the gruelling mixing of the
cement, and so, in spite of the pain from my ass,
that's what I did for the rest of the afternoon.

When we were at last in our pen that evening, all the
guys crowded around me and asked how I was - they'd
all seen Kurt fucking me, although they had not been
allowed to stop work.  And some of them had been
"tried out" in the same way after they arrived, and
remembered how painful it was to have Kurt's enormous
cock thrust into them that way.

Craig was extremely concerned, and when we lay down
whispered that he wasn't going to fuck me that night
as he knew I must be hurting.  However whilst we were
kissing and gently stroking each other pleasurably,
the gate was unlocked and Stu came in again.

He picked his way across the heaped bodies, playfully
fending off the approaches and touches of the other
guys until he saw me.  He came and crouched by Craig
and me, and grinned.

"The owner's friends want to play with Kurt again
tonight - although I doubt he'll be much use after
that epic fucking of your ass this afternoon - so I
asked to be put in again with you guys. Can I ride
your cock again, Jon, please...?"

I wasn't used to such a direct approach, and was
anyway very tired.

"No, you can't!  I told you last time that I didn't do
things like that."

"Yes, but it's all different now, isn't it......"

"How?"

"Well, Kurt's fucked you.  And he fucks me all the
time.  So we've got something in common - Kurt's big
cock has been up both of us.... So it must be OK for
your cock to go up me...."

I almost laughed at his twisted logic, but, all the
same, I did remember how pleasurable it had been when
he rode me.  I looked at Craig, and saw him smiling...
 "Go on, Jon - give it a go!  The lad wants you to
fuck him, so why not try it?"

Well I suppose some part of the "old" me was still
saying that it wasn't right, that I shouldn't be even
thinking about things like this. But after having been
fucked by Craig and Kurt, being "ridden" by Stu, and
spending all my time humiliatingly naked with an
almost constant erection from the cinch ring,
something else inside me was saying "why not?"

I smiled back at Stu, and went to start wanking him
for a supply of lube, but Craig pulled me closer to
him.  "Not so fast, Jon!  I'm going to lose out here -
if you're going to fuck the lad, I want you to wank me
first - I want those big strong fingers of yours
around me, else I'll have to do myself and it's not
the same."

It wasn't as good, of course - both guys really need
to be wanking each other, don't they, for the best
sex?  But it was interesting all the same - as I
kissed and stroked Craig, I had time to focus on what
was happening to him in a way that I couldn't when he
was doing equally pleasurable things to me.  I saw how
his breathing changed, how he sighed and moaned as I
varied my grip on his cock, how he moved his body
closer to mine then further away as I stroked his
balls and scratched at his pucker, and how, as he was
ready to cum, his breathing almost froze and his whole
body arched in anticipation of the giant splash of hot
cum that shot out of him.

He was panting afterwards, and I smiled down at him
and said "So was that OK?  Worth giving up a fuck
for?"

He grinned, and said "No way!", but I knew he was
joking and reached down and playfully gave his cock a
couple more strokes, causing him to almost double up
with the discomfort,  as I knew he had an incredibly
sensitive cock after he'd cum.

"Hmmm. Craig.... Perhaps I'd better keep stroking you,
get you erect again, and let you in my ass then...."
I took hold of his cock, and he gasped

"No.... Bastard.... You know what I'm like when I've
cum..."  We both collapsed into helpless laughter, and
it was one of the best moments I've ever shared with
another guy - we were so relaxed, so happy, so
completely unconcerned about what anyone else thought,
and were only focused on what happened between us.

"Now you've exhausted me, get to work on young Stu
whilst my cum's still fresh to slick his hole", Craig
went on.  "I can see he's desperate to have that cock
of yours up him again - but do it properly this time,
like I fucked you.  Or do it 'doggy', as Kurt did."

Stu was kneeling now, and it was he who took some of
Craig's cum and started eagerly rubbing it into his
hole.  Craig was watching, and pushed sideways,
forcing some of the other guys even tighter together
and so making a small space on the floor.

"Come on, lad - lie here beside me", he said kindly,
and moved his arm out sideways to make a pillow for
Stu's head to lie on.   Stu sank down and lay beside
Craig, and I knelt between them and started to massage
Stu's hole, just as Craig had done to me.  He started
to moan, and at first I thought I was hurting him, but
I realised that it was just the pleasure he was
feeling from the tender way my finger was working him.
 Again, in a kind of detached way, I was interested to
observe how I could almost "play" his body - as my
finger went in and out of him he moved sensuously, his
breathing changed,  his eyes closed, and a smile
played all over his handsome face.

I know you have to do it, but after a time massaging a
guy's hole gets a bit boring, doesn't it?  As soon as
I thought I'd relaxed him enough, therefore, I moved
so that I was between his legs, then picked them up
and put them on my shoulders, as Craig had done to me.
 Then I entered him, ever so slowly, ever so gently,
just nudging his sphincter with my cock head at first,
and teasing it  so that Stu's body writhed with
pleasure.  I knew he was ready, and so was I - pre-cum
was pouring out from me, as the touch of the lad's
pucker on my sensitive cock head was almost more than
I could bear.  So I thrust my hips forward, and my
cock head went in that vital first inch or so.  Stu
moaned deeply, and I continued to push until I was
buried inside him as far as I could go - the cinch
ring got in the way a bit, as you'd expect, so I
couldn't get that wonderful feeling of having my body
in complete contact with his ass.

And then, as they say, I fucked him - long and slow,
short and fast, I forget how many times I varied my
stroke, changed my pace.... I was carried away, and so
was Stu.  We both were laughing, grunting, moaning and
shouting as the fucking went on, and his body was
responding perfectly to me.  Even though I was in some
sort of sexual ecstasy, another part of me was in
control:  I was watching, observing, and even
experimenting, to a certain extent, to see what
happened as I modified the way I fucked him.

It couldn't go on for ever of course - the more I
tried to be detached, the more excited I became, and
then the inevitable happened - that roaring, raging,
rampaging feeling exploding through me as my balls
pumped my seed along my cock and deep into him.  I was
absolutely the best feeling I'd ever had in my whole
life.  Better even - much better - than any of the
women I'd fucked.  So this is why men went with each
other:  now I knew.  And something inside told me that
this was how it was meant to be for me, that this is
how I was always going to have sex in future.

The world seemed to have stopped for me for a few
moments, but I came back to reality as Craig gently
shook me.

"Are you OK, Jon, mate?"

"OK?  Are you kidding?  I'm fantastic!"

I gently pulled myself out from Stu, and leant forward
over him, being careful to take most of my weight on
my elbows.  I kissed him, deeply, and he put his arms
around my neck and pulled me close to him

"Oh, Jon..... That was amazing. After Kurt.... Oh
Jon....."  A tear had formed at the corner of Stu's
eye, and as I watched, it rolled down his cheek.

"Jon... Don't make me go back to Kurt... Keep me here
with you...."

Craig was listening to this, and cut in "Don't be so
stupid, lad!  You know that's not possible. Even if
Jon wanted you with him, he has no choice: we're all
slaves, and it's the owner who decides who's allowed
to be with whom.  He's decided that you're going to be
with Kurt, and so that's your life:  you have no
choice, Jon has no choice, and neither does Kurt!  So
stop being like some stupid half-baked love-sick
school kid:  you're a slave, and for the good of all
of us, you do what you're told."

After that outburst Stu just lay there quietly, but I
knew that Craig must have thought that he'd been
unnecessarily harsh with the lad as he joined me in
wrapping ourselves around Stu so that we all slept
companionably close together.

In the middle of the night we were all awake, though,
and we were all erect.  I wanted to fuck Stu again,
but I also knew that Craig had been very good in
letting me do it earlier instead of spending my time
with him.  It seemed to be the classic "love
triangle", and I didn't know what to do.  Craig had so
much more experienced, of course, and neatly solved
the problem - he started to gently wank me, then used
his other hand to move my hand onto Stu's erect cock,
and then to get Stu to wank him!

The following day it wasn't just my ass that was sore
from the brutal fucking that I'd received from Karl -
my legs and back ached, too.  As I tried to stand up
in the morning I almost groaned, and I thought it was
just from the incredibly hard work we'd been doing -
although I'd mostly got over the sheer muscular ache
that I'd experienced when I first arrived.  Craig saw
me and laughed - "You've got fucking pains, Jon", he
told me laughingly.  "When you fuck a guy in the
missionary position, as you did young Stu last night,
you use your body differently from when you're
working, and so you can get sore the following day.
It'll soon wear off - and if you carry on fucking, as
I suspect you will, as I can see you're a top, like
me, then it will go away as your muscles get used to
it.

Stu was taken away as we all crouched there crapping
over  the grille, and we did our usual morning run out
to the construction site.  Half way through the
morning the owner appeared again, with Karl pulling
him in his rickshaw.  I was almost glad to see that
Karl was really working hard - his chest was heaving
up and down as our owner had evidently run him fast on
their journey.  The owner said a few words to our
Overseer, and he in turn came over and told me to go
and stand behind the rickshaw.

I did as he told me, and the Overseer pulled a short
chain out of a small box on the back of the rickshaw,
and clipped the end to my snout ring!  With a tiny
crack of the whip, the owner urged Kurt into motion,
and I was  forced to follow if I wanted to avoid
excruciating pain from my nose.  After we'd been
running for a few minutes I saw that Kurt's job was
not as easy as I'd thought - the ground was sharp and
hot under my feet, the owner set quite a fast pace for
the run, and it was a bit of a struggle for me to keep
up even when there was only me to move.  Kurt must
really have to work hard to make himself and the
rickshaw and the owner go along at this pace!  Still,
I didn't feel all that sorry for him really - he
wasn't cinched, he didn't have a humiliating snout
ring, and he was able to choose to have young Stu with
him most nights - I think I'd have willingly treaded
places with him, if that had been on offer.

We stopped outside one of the buildings in the central
complex, and at once a guard ran out.  The owner said
something to him (he mostly spoke in some strange
foreign language, unless he was addressing us slaves,
when he used English), and the guard came around and
released my snout ring from the chain, that he then
neatly coiled back into its box on the back of the
rickshaw.

The guard led me in to the building, and along a
corridor and back into the "veterinarian's office"
that I'd been in on my first day.  The same
white-coated man was standing there, and he consulted
something on his PC screen.  He came over and read my
name from my shoulder, and said "Right, Jon, you're
here for the circumcision.  I thought the owner
wouldn't delay it for long - he has all his slaves
done routinely, you know.  It's not usually a problem
for the Americans, but as we get more and more men
coming from Europe - especially Eastern Europe - I get
more and more little operations like this to do."

"I heard all that nonsense about leaving you whole as
you only had a short 'skin and your piss slit was
mostly uncovered, but I knew the owner wouldn't leave
it like that for long.  It spoils the symmetry, don't
you think, when there's a whole gang of slaves and one
of them still has a 'skin?"

I went to answer, but realised that he was just musing
and I wasn't required to say anything. "Still, you're
lucky", he went on, "On another estate where I work
fairly regularly, the owner there doesn't like the
slaves to get much pleasure from sex.  So when I 'skin
the new slaves, I have to cut away the little piece of
skin underneath the head, too - that's what gives you
most pleasure, you know.  And e even has it removed
from slaves that come ready 'skinned!  Your owner is
more sensible - he knows that a big group of men kept
together would turn unruly and fight, unless they were
getting plentiful sex.  So he instructs me to let you
keep your pleasure point, so you'll enjoy sex more,
and so you'll do it more often, and so you'll be less
likely to cause other problems.  Clever guy, really -
you can see why he's made so much money."

I desperately wanted to ask about the owner - how had
he got to this position of absolute power over other
men?  But I supposed I was still under the injunction
to stay silent at all times, and just stood there.

"Now", the veterinarian went on, "Don't worry!
Although it says 'veterinarian' on the door, that's
only a bit of 'window dressing' - I'm a fully
qualified doctor really.  They wouldn't trust
extremely valuable property like the slaves here to an
unqualified hack, would they?  And I've done hundreds
of 'skinnings - it's not difficult, after all, as even
medically untrained people, like rabbis, can do it.
Well, at least on little babies and kids - with a
fully mature cock, it's a tad more difficult, but the
principle's the same.  Now.... Lets' get on with
it..... Sit down on that chair..."

Well, he was right.  It actually didn't take long, and
it was painless - I'd been worried that he'd do it
without anaesthetic, as when he'd punched the hole for
my snout ring.  But once I was sat down he gave me an
injection into my cock, waited for a couple of minutes
for it to take effect, then it was over before I even
knew it.  Look, I didn't want it done, as no mature
man wants to lose a part of himself, but I recognised
I had no choice - the owner had decreed it, and there
wasn't a blind thing I could do about it without
risking terrible punishments for myself and my
comrades.

He mopped at the cut ends of my skin with something
that stopped the bleeding, and put a kind of giant
sticking plaster around the end to cover the wound.

"Don't go fucking, or even wanking, for about a week",
he told me.  "You can't help getting erect, of course,
especially as you're cinched, but friction on the
wounds would definitely b e a bad idea.  But after a
week, you can go at it gently - I'd wank at first,
rather than fucking.... you do fuck, don't you?"

I realised he was expecting a reply, and it was OK to
speak, so I muttered "Sir, yes, sir...".

"Good.  We need more men who fuck here - a lot of the
guys like taking it, but there aren't a lot of us who
give it.  So it's always good when one of the new
slaves turns out to be a 'top' - it's more difficult
when he has to be fucked, of course, but the rest of
the time it really helps to keep the rest of the
slaves happy.   Anyway, keep that cock of yours out of
your mates' asses for a bit longer, but then you'll be
fine."

Actually, I hadn't thought of it like this before.
I'd realised that I did like fucking, after my
experience with Stu, and I could see that there were
probably more guys that liked to take it, rather than
give it.  Perhaps I was in for interesting times in
the slave pen at night.

End Of Part 8