Date: Mon, 3 Nov 2003 03:24:34 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: A Slave's Life, Part 9

A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 9

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

The work never stopped, of course, and, as the
veterinarian had predicted, after about a week I was
able to "lightly wank" again - what a relief that was,
as by then my balls were screaming for relief, I spent
almost the entire time completely erect, and streams
of pre-cum were constantly leaking from me.  All this
time Craig continued to fuck me, and he reckoned that
if he spent enough time massaging my ass and caressing
my prostate, he could make me cum spontaneously
without needing to wank me - but, in spite of a lot of
truly thrilling sensations as he worked away, it
didn't happen.  

When I was ready to wank, and after I'd found that
there was no bleeding from where my circumcision scar
had healed, it was such a pleasure.  I wanted to wank
myself, as I still think that it's only you who really
knows how best to do this, but Craig insisted that he
should be the first - "it will be like taking your
virginity all over again", he laughed.

It felt odd at first to be walking around with my cock
head exposed, and, honestly, wanking without a
foreskin just isn't as good:  there's no natural
lubrication, and you lose that delicious feeling of
your foreskin sliding on and off your cock head.  But
there are some compensations - I didn't have to 'skin
back in the showers in the evening to get really
clean, and there wasn't the worry, when one of the
guys was sucking me, that I might not be as "fresh" as
I might be because of any build up of smeg.

After a couple of days of this, the next night when
Craig was about to wank me to get the lube he liked
before fucking me, I stayed his hand.  

"No - my turn!", I told him.

"Hey, Jon, you know I always 'top'.  I don't take it
up the ass, mate."

"Craig, I told you I didn't take it up the ass, either
,that first night.  But I did.  So now it's my turn -
after waiting all these years for proper sex, I really
want to try everything.  And if you're not going to
let me fuck you, I'd better find one of the other guys
- most of them seem to want a 'top', as I understand
it...."

Craig looked genuinely shocked, as he wasn't used to
me taking the lead in things like this.  But at the
same time he knew I was right - before he'd started
fucking me regularly he had generally "polled around"
all the other guys, fucking each one in turn.  They
all missed Craig's attentions as he was so focused on
me, and he knew that if I offered to fuck any one of
them, they would at least let me try.    So, rather
reluctantly, he kind of shrugged his shoulders, and I
hugged him, then got to work wanking him.

I'd enjoyed fucking young Stu, but with Craig it was
different.  For one thing, Stu had wanted me to fuck
him, and, as you'll remember, he'd basically forced
himself on me the first time we'd met.  Craig didn't
want to be fucked, and was a very experienced fucker
himself - inside, I was dreadfully worried that I'd
"do something wrong", and that Craig would correct me
or, even worse, start to laugh at my inexperience and
ineptitude.  But I did all the preliminaries properly,
even getting a little grunt of surprise form Craig as
I hit his prostate as I loosened him up, and then I
was ready to go into him.

It was easy!  There's clearly something in the human
brain that knows what a cock needs to do to an ass, as
the moment I slid my cock between Craig's ass cheeks
and my bare cock head touched his pucker, it all
happened as if I was on autopilot!  I pushed myself
in, then very slowly and gently inserted the full
length of my cock (or, rather, as much of it as  I
could before my cinched balls stopped me) into him,
and rocked backwards and forwards to give him a
completely sensuous experience.  

Whilst all that was enjoyable, I soon found that the
real pleasure for a top is to be got from good,
honest, solid, hard fucking, and I revelled in the
feelings that flooded into me from my cock as I rammed
in and out of Craig as hard as I could.  At first he
just grunted under my battering, but soon he was
panting and shouting in time to my thrusting - and
this all made it better for me!  To have a man impaled
on my cock, completely powerless to stop me fucking
him, was fantastic.  It wasn't just the physical
sensations that amazed me, but the way in which I was
controlling another body, dominating another human
being in the way that a top man was intended to.

I wanted it to go on for ever, but of course the
inevitable happened and I felt my balls spasming and
shooting my cum deep up inside him.  Even after the
'skinning, my cock was (and remains!) incredibly
sensitive after I've cum, and much as I wanted to
carry on thrusting, there was just no way that I
could.  It doesn't exactly hurt, indeed, it's more
like an exquisitely refined form of sexual
titillation, but I just can't make myself keep on
going: the pain and the pleasure are just too great.

So instead I fell forward onto Craig, and just lay
there, feeling his heart beating through his chest and
enjoying the slickness of our sweat-soaked bodies as
they slid over each other.  

"You bastard, Jon!"

I was so surprised, I thought I must have misheard. 
"Hey, what's the problem?  I thought that was pretty
good.  It was great for me!  And I spent a long time
relaxing you first, so you'd enjoy it, too."

"Yes, that was OK  But once you got started, you
completely lost control, didn't you?  You were almost
like a wild animal, completely oblivious to how I felt
about it. I was crying out when you slammed into me so
hard so repeatedly, but you didn't even care....."

"Oh come on, Craig, it wasn't that bad!  Sure I fucked
you hard - what do you expect?  That's what tops do,
you know.  And you fucked me pretty hard most of the
time too, and I don't complain."

I guess we could have had a real argument about this,
but I kind of backed off, even though I knew I was
right.  I lowered my voice - always a good thing when
you want to appear to show you're giving something
away - and whispered  "You're right.  I'm sorry.  But
it was my first time with a real man, as you know. 
When I fucked Stu last week I had to be so very gentle
with him as he's such a young guy - but when I felt
your fantastic hard ass, something just came over me. 
You're so fantastically desirable..... I just wanted
to possess you... And I guess I lost control.  Look,
I'm sorry mate...  I really like you, and I wouldn't
want to do anything to upset you..."

It was all bullshit, of course.  Yes, something took
control over me - my desire to utterly dominate and
control the body I was fucking!  Craig seemed
mollified however and almost smiled.

"Don't worry, Jon, you'll learn.  That was OK for a
first time, but when you get more experienced you'll
be able to take it more gently, and really give
satisfaction to the guy you're fucking."

"So I'm forgiven?"  Although I said this gently,
inside I didn't care at all.  All that crap he was
talking about giving satisfaction to the guy I was
fucking - I felt differently about it.  I knew that
the most important thing for a guy to do was to
satisfy himself:  if he pleasured the guy he was
fucking at the same time, that was OK, but it wasn't
the objective of the whole thing!  I'd spent my whole
life so far trying to please other people - my
parents, the school, my team mates, and, of course,
the women I was fucking.  Now, for the first time
ever, I'd discovered how important it was to me to
ensure that it was me who was satisfied, that it was
me who got what he wanted, and that it was me who was
in control and ran things.  So I didn't intend to
learn more - I already knew what to do, and how to do
it.

Craig gave a little sigh - contentment, or
resignation?  I didn't know, or care all that much,
except that he shut up - and wrapped his arms around
me.  "You'll learn, Jon - that was OK for a first
time, but you'll learn."

I could have shaken him, and told him it wasn't just
OK, it was fucking fantastic!  But what was the point?
 I wanted to go up his ass again, so there was no
point in unnecessarily antagonising him.  And,
actually, I really liked Craig.  He'd been good and
kind to me, better than any mate I'd ever had before: 
even after a couple of weeks  I felt closer to Craig
that I did to any of the guys in my Club, some of whom
I'd grown up with.

We went to sleep wrapped closely together, but I was
restless all night - it was as if my body, having 
learned something new and amazing, wanted to repeat
the experience.

The whole of the next week was tough.  We carried on
at the work of building the foundations for the new
structure on the estate, but my mind, not really
engaged in it anyway, was even further away - all I
could think about as we toiled away was how to get my
cock the satisfaction it needed.  It was easy, of
course - all I had to do was position myself next to
one of the other guys in my group at night, then start
to fuck him - most of them just wanted to experience
cock up the ass, as I've told you.  But there was
Craig to worry about - he wanted to fuck me, didn't
want me to fuck him again, and he really didn't like
me abandoning him for the other guys. So I had a
difficult balancing act to perform - how to give
myself the satisfaction I deserved, whilst not totally
pissing off Craig!  All this thought and worry had one
good consequence, though - I almost completely forgot
the backbreaking toil and grind we were all engaged in
every day.  

>From the time we marched out of our pen in the morning
I could almost completely turn off from the real world
and let my fantasies just run wild:  the Overseer may
have thought I was concentrating on shovelling the
aggregate, or mixing the cement, and, at one level, I
was.  But the real me, the thinking part of my brain,
was obsessed with sex:  which ass was I going to
conquer tonight?  How was I going to pacify Craig? 
How had that ass been the last time I'd fucked it, and
what was I going to try next?  I was  completely
enthralled by sex, in a way that I'd never been before
- sure, I'd plotted and schemed to get my hands on
some girl's tits, or down her knickers, but now I had
grander schemes afoot.  I didn't only want to fuck all
the guys in my group, but I wanted to totally dominate
and control them.  They didn't just have to lie there
and let me take my pleasure - I wanted them to know
that it was me fucking them, that it was me who was
forcing his man seed up into their bodies, that it was
me who was in total charge and control of them as they
lay helplessly under my thrusting cock.         

To tell you the truth, life as a slave wasn't turning
out to be a bad thing for me - of course it was
backbreakingly hard.  Of course it was utterly
humiliating to be cinched and made to work totally
naked.  Of course I had no "freedom" in the
conventional sense.  Of course it was mind-numbing and
I had no chance to use my intellectual powers. But at
another level I was free - free of the constraints
that had kept me at an office desk, and had made me
take my pleasure by indulging in team sports where I
had some male companionship, free of the need to be
"nice" in order to try to attract and keep girl
friends, free of the constraints that society imposes
on men that keep them from realising their full
potential as sexual beings.  Now I could utilise my
cock to its full power, to dominate and control other
men and to give me the pleasure I deserved.

I'd almost come around to the view that slavery was
not a bad thing, as it allowed some men to realise
their full potential, until the visit of a group of
the owner's friends caused me to re-think a little.

Even though we'd not quite finished the work on the
foundations of the new structure, one morning our
Overseer didn't lead us on the run out there -
instead, we turned towards the main building complex,
in front of which was a large ornamental garden.

"You slaves are going to did this land over thoroughly
today", he told us.  "It's to be dug to a depth of two
spades, and all - and I mean all - the stones are to
be removed.  As this work is so close to the main
house, and as the owner has a number of guests this
weekend  who are nervous of slaves, you will have an
additional security measure - you will be held
together as a group at all times."

The other guys kind of groaned under their breaths, as
they must have experienced this before.  I didn't know
what he meant, though, until we were ordered to form
up in a line to work our way across the ground, then a
steel cable was run through our snout rings!

Have you ever tried to work - really work, at hard
manual labour - when you're constrained not to move
more than a couple of feet form your colleagues?  The
wire running through our snout rings meant that we had
to keep together, had to move uniformly across the
work area, had to move up and down in the same uniform
way, and we had absolutely no freedom of movement at
all.  It wasn't so much that it hurt, it was the total
inconvenience of the thing - we were expected to work
really hard, with this constraint that prevented us
from using our bodies with the total freedom we
usually enjoyed.  And, of course, if working naked,
with a cinch ring isn't humiliating  enough, try being
part of a gang of eight men who are effectively roped
together by their noses!

I learned later that digging over this particular part
of ground was a regular activity - every time the
owner had a big "house party", the existing content of
that part of the garden was thrown away and we were
scheduled to dig it over for the amusement of the
guests.  They gathered on the terrace - a cool, shaded
terrace hung all over with lush green vines - and
watched as we toiled away under the burning sun.  We
could hear their chatter faintly, and the tinkle of
ice in their glasses, as they amused themselves whilst
we toiled away.

Occasionally, a small group of guests would leave the
shelter of the patio and come over to observe us more
closely.  The men - and women - seemed fascinated by
the sight of our naked bodies, and particularly by the
way in which our cinch rings made us always on display
so prominently.    On the second day of the first such
visit I experienced, one of the guests came over and
said something to our Overseer.  He at once gave us
the command to stop work, and to stand there in a
line, with our hands clasped behind our necks.

The guests who had asked for this then came along and
"inspected" us - running their hands over our sweaty
bodies, feeling our tits and our asses, and,
occasionally, cupping our balls to feel the weight of
our manhood.  One woman in particular on this visit
spent a long time touching our cocks - at first,
gingerly, and then with more and more confidence as
she moved along the row of us.

She whispered something to her male companion, who in
turn spoke to the Overseer, who replied - we couldn't
hear what was said.

This was a new form of humiliation for me - somehow it
wasn't so bad when the only people who saw you were
other slaves, the Overseers, and the owner.  But
having a big group of guests - mixed men and women -
watching your naked body as it toiled away, was
something different.  We were so used to seeing
everyone outside naked, except for the overseers, that
having clothed people around somehow emphasised the
differences between us and them, and it brought back
memories of "ordinary life", the life I'd been
snatched from.

That night, as we crapped and then showered, the
guards came along and selected one of us - Rob - and
marched him off.  Once we were in our pen there was
the usual buzz of interest and conversation, and I
hear several of the guys saying how lucky they were
that they weren't Rob.

As I lay in Craig's arms I asked him why Rob had been
taken, and he said "Well, I don't know - but whatever
it is, the poor guy will be suffering now!  Those
guests who singled him out earlier will be enjoying
the spectacle of seeing Rob whipped; or perhaps
they've decided to have him fuck some of the dinner
waiters to amuse them; or he might have been put to
stud, as an after-dinner entertainment...."

"Put to stud?"

"Well, you know, the owner does breed slaves. 
Normally the sire is one of the guys kept for that
purpose - he has a number of big, blond Scandinavians
kept for just that, as the owner wants to introduce
paler shades into his herd.  But as an entertainment,
any one of us can be taken and made to fuck one of the
brood mares to amuse the dinner guests as they drink
their coffee and sip their liqueurs...."

God!  Was there no end to what we had to suffer as
slaves?  Of course I had no objection to fucking
women, as I'd done it many times before (or had had no
objection - I now really didn't know what I felt). 
But fucking them as an entertainment - that was
something else.  And I didn't like the idea of being
bred from, either - at one point in my life I suppose
I'd had a vague idea that having kids was the right
thing to do - all my mates were doing it, after all -
but being deliberately bred from so that my kids could
grow up as slaves?.... Well, I was actually shocked by
the idea.

Anyway, there was nothing we could do about it, and we
all just went about sucking ,wanking and fucking as
usual.  

The next morning Rob was brought back to be added to
the line of us as we toiled away - they had to stop us
all from working for a few minutes, as the line
running through our snout rings was released so that
Rob could be added.  I saw that he looked a bit
dejected, but it wasn't until the midday break, when I
saw him turn around, that I saw that he'd clearly been
through some sort of experience the night before. 
Running all across his back - from his shoulders, down
onto his naked ass, were huge stripes and welts,
turning into scars.  They weren't whip lash marks, as
they were in a pattern that I recognised:  I'd once
had a girl friend who absolutely refused to cut her
nails properly, and she actually filed them down into
points.  My mates at the Club all laughed at me when I
turned up one day for a match with huge finger nail
marks all down my back - in her passion, as I'd fucked
her, she'd clawed at my back with her talons, and the
marks were still showing twenty four hour later.  

Rob was suffering from the same thing - but infinitely
worse.  These weren't just scratch marks from a
passionate woman in rut, as a muscular stud fucked
her:  it looked more as if the purpose of the sex act
had been to leave talon marks all over the body of the
unfortunate guy.
We clustered around Rob, and he told us what had
happened.

"They really cleaned me up", he said.  Not only did I
have to shower, but I was locked in a sauna for almost
an hour - man, did I sweat!  But the guards said it
was to make sure there was no ingrained dirt in me, as
I was going to be with a lady that night.  Well, I
used to like fucking women, so I was looking forward
to it - until I learned what I had to do."

Rob halted for a moment, and we urged him on.  "It
turns out that it was that woman who inspected us, in
her late forties - and I'd never fucked an old woman
before.  I didn't think I could make it, couldn't get
it up and keep it up.  The guards were all laughing
about how a young stud like me was going to have to
perform, and they advised me to be careful - there had
been a case only recently where a slave had displeased
a woman guest of the owner and she had asked the owner
to give him a suitable punishment - and it had been
decided that as the slave didn't want to fuck, he
didn't need his balls!  They castrated him the next
day, and the owner gave him away as a 'pet' to the
woman afterwards.  I didn't want that to happen to me,
and I was shit scared."

"The veterinarian came to inspect me next, to make
sure I was 'clean' and had no unsightly scars or
anything - he was most concerned about the possibility
of wanking scars on my cock, of course.  He noticed I
was trembling, and asked me what was wrong, and I told
him.   He was a good guy, told me not to worry, and
gave me a huge shot of viagra so that I almost
immediately went hard, and stayed that way.  At least,
then, I could go through the motions, I thought. 
However it turned out that the real purpose of his
visit was to fit me with a 'contraceptive'..... The
woman only liked to be fucked with a raw cock, but
didn't want to risk any of my semen getting into her. 
The veterinarian therefore fitted me with a device
he'd invented himself for just this circumstance - a
little piece of plastic, that looked just like a tiny
mushroom.  The 'stalk' went into my piss slit - only
about half an inch, just enough to hold it steady, but
enough to make me squirm as the vet pushed it in - and
the cap covered about half my cock head."

We were all listening really intently now, and most of
us were erect at the thought of having something
pushed down our cocks.  "The worst thing, though", Rob
went on, "Was that after he'd fitted it and found the
right size as there were several of the little
mushrooms, for different sized cocks, he told me to
piss.  Well, I didn't need to, but he told me I had to
as once the thing was fitted, it wouldn't be possible
until it was removed.  So I forced myself to piss, and
then he came back for the 'final fitting'.  He used
superglue on the underside of the cap to 'cement' the
mushroom onto my cock!  You know how careful you have
to be with superglue as you can actually stick your
fingers together when you're using it - well, now the
plastic of the mushroom cap was bonded to the head of
my cock.  He told me to touch it and feel it, and I
saw the cleverness of it - the bit of your cock that
the woman feels as it slides into her was completely
untouched, as the mushroom was only over about half my
cock head.  And, with it stuck on, there was no way
anything could come out of my piss slit."

"The vet told me I had to be careful not to cum, but
he thought that judging from my previous conversation
that wouldn't be a problem for me - I'd remain rock
hard, but as I wasn't sexually excited, there would be
no need for me to shoot.  And that's it, really."

"Oh go on, tell us what it was like...", one of the
other guys said, and so, rather reluctantly, perhaps,
Rob continued "Well, it's completely humiliating, of
course, to be taken naked by a guard to a bedroom
door, and then pushed in.  She was lying on the bed
wearing some sort of filmy nightwear, and first of all
I had to go and stand by her so she could inspect my
balls again, and feel my cock.  She showed me one of
the prods like the guards have, lying on the bedside
table, and told me she wouldn't hesitate to use it on
me if I didn't perform properly.  Then I had to go
down on her and lick and suck her to rouse her."

Poor Rob was in difficulty now.  "Well, I used to like
doing that to my girl friends, but to an old cunt, it
was disgusting.  And she didn't let me stop at all - I
had to go on and on, and then fondle her disgusting
sagging breasts and so on.  And when she finally told
me to mount her, she said she expected to be pleasured
for a very long time - and it was a long time, I can
assure you:  I haven't worked so hard for ages.  It
was just as well that the vet had given me the shot as
there's no way  I could have kept an erection for all
the time I had to fuck her."

"The worst thing, though, was the way she reacted to
me - she was just like a wild animal under me,
thrashing around and clawing at me to pull me down
onto her and 'encourage' me.  When I started I didn't
think I'd have a problem with cum, but actually even
when you are completely turned off by the woman,
enough stimulation of your cock by a cunt does have
the effect you'd expect - I felt my balls straining,
and realised I was on the edge of shooting.  I was
terrified - you guys all know that I shoot really big
loads, and I didn't know what would happen when all
that hot cum raced up my cock and found the exit
blocked:  would my balls explode, or something?"

"So I had to stop, and pulled out of her.  She was
incandescent with rage, and prodded me so that I
writhed around on the floor a bit - well, at least
that took away any immediate desire I had to shoot. 
But then she ordered me 'back to work', and threatened
an even more severe prodding if I dared stop again. 
She had no interest in me at all, and was really only
using me as a living, warm, dildo - she didn't care
what happened to me, didn't care that I might be hurt
by shooting: she was only interested in her own
pleasure."

"The next hour was a nightmare.  I didn't dare stop
thrusting, so had to do everything  I could to stop
myself cumming.  I varied the pace and stroke, stopped
completely sometimes but only so that she could see
that I was giving full attention to playing with her
breasts, and even tried to kiss her.  I say 'tried' as
she wanted my mouth, but I found the taste of lipstick
and the smell of her makeup almost made me retch. 
But, thankfully, I did manage to stop myself from
shooting."

"I was almost at the end of my strength when I was
rescued by a phone call - her husband or lover or
something was on the line, and she told me to stop
fucking her so she could speak to him, although she
wanted me to tongue her as she lay there having this
incredibly long conversation about what they were
going to do when they were next in bed together.  I
got really worried when she started talking about
taking a slave and making a threesome, as I thought
she might have me in mind.  But, fortunately, when she
put the phone down she dismissed me - perhaps the sexy
conversation with her man had put her mind to other
things."

"What happened next?", we asked.

"Well, nothing much.  There was a knock on the door,
and she told me to get out - the guard was in the
corridor, waiting for me.  She never even said 'thank
you' or anything - to her, I was just an object that
she'd used.  I think the guards felt a bit sorry for
me as they allowed me to shower and get the awful
smell of her off my body.  And then I went to the
vet's so that he could remove the 'mushroom'."

"There's no easy way", Rob continued. "He told me it
was going to hurt, and it did!  Basically he had a
little tool that gripped the edges of the plastic,
then he just pulled it out with a quick jerk. I
screamed, I can tell you, as the glue was bonded to my
skin and it tore away the top layer - look...."

Rob showed us the end of his cock, and there was a
small circle that was all red and inflamed, centred on
his piss slit.  We all of us had our hands on our
cocks now - the thought of having the skin on top of
your cock head torn away was making us wince!

"The vet laughed and said all the guys used as toys
hated that part of it, but that I'd only be sore for a
day or two, and he smeared a bit of antiseptic cream
on it.  He was more concerned about my back, with all
these marks from her fucking fingernails - he cleaned
all the wounds, but he was worried that some of them
might be so deep that there would be scarring, and
that means I'd be out of here as the owner won't have
'blemished' slaves in a gang like this that's designed
for display as well as for labour.  I had to jerk off,
too, as he said he wanted to make sure that there were
no bits of glue residue in my urethra, although I
think that was just an excuse:  When I started to wank
myself , he stopped me and he brought me to climax."

We all felt so sorry for Rob, to be used in that way. 
Somehow it seemed to be much crueller, much more of an
infringement of our dignity than any of the other
things we had to do routinely.  I didn't think there
was any way that a slave could be more humiliated than
by being used as a living dildo.  But, of course, I
was later to be proved wrong.                    

End Of Part 9