Date: Sun, 16 May 2004 21:21:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mandrasat 18

MANDRASAT - Part 18 (Ch 4 pt 1)

Kasim's analgesic gel would not erase the inevitable bruising that would
shortly appear over most of Bret's body; it would, however, in conjunction
with the rohypnol, the steroids, and the potent natural sedatives Bret was
imbibing significantly decrease the pain he would otherwise feel.  It would
also help in healing his welts, scrapes, and temporary skin discoloration.
	The overseer placed the can and the pitcher and bowel back on the
storage shelf and returned to his bed, climbing onto it and lying down full
length, resting his head on his right arm and facing Bret.  He said nothing
for a minute or two, simply tracing the finger tips of his left hand across
Bret's chest and belly, then fondling his cock and balls.
	"You are," he sighed slowly, "a pretty, pretty, very pretty slave,
and I can see why Zarak might hate to share your holes with anyone else.
But," he smiled, leaning over Bret's face and gliding the tip of his tongue
across the slave's partly open mouth, "I'm not just anyone else."  -0-
	Kasim stared intently into Bret's face for a moment, then tossed
his head back and laughed silently to himself.  His slave was dead asleep.
After pulling a farm cart most of the morning, followed by a couple of
strenuous hours in the exercise pit, some rough mouth and ass fucking by
Hassan and his Nubian, a good ass cracking, more fucking, and several hefty
rohypnol cocktails, Bret was done in, and nothing but time was going to
rouse him back to consciousness.
	The overseer pressed his lips again to Bret's mouth, deeply
tonguing him and savoring the heady mixture from the tasty remnants of
Hassan's cum and the powerful drugs coating that warm, wet cave inside.
Seeing no reason for not continuing with his plans, Kasim rolled Bret onto
his stomach, spreading his legs across the huge bed as wide as they would
go and peeling off the adhesive endorphin soaked pads from the slave's
calves, thighs, and hips.
	Kasim had more than ample time to plow his cock repeatedly into
this slave's firm, dimpled ass; their appointment the next morning with
Shareem in his torture chamber was many, many hours away.
	The analgesic gel layered onto and into Bret's inflamed hole would
provide a perfect lubricant for Kasim's cock, "and," he chuckled, "an
antiseptic one at that."  Mounting the slave's buttocks and sitting tall,
he wedged his cockhead into the lips of his hole, then, leaning forward and
gripping Bret's hips and sliding his legs down the length of the bed, he
twisted and shoved himself onto Bret's back, ramming his cock all the way
into the long, tight chute beneath him.
	"Even unconscious," he groaned, "this slave is a phenomenal fuck."
	The overseer would have preferred to have Bret writhing and
screaming underneath him, but for the moment, he was satisfied with riding
his inert body the way he would ride a champion horse, fiercely pushing
himself forward, clenching his teeth, constricting cries of pleasure and
pain in his throat as Bret's gut muscles crushed his cock shaft.  He knew
that Bret, even through layers of unconsciousness, could feel his steel
hard spike pounding its way into his belly; he could hear him moan and feel
his body shudder.
	Slowly and methodically, he ground himself against Bret's ass,
driving his cock between walls of layered muscle, forcing them to part.  He
clamped his arms around Bret's head, closed his lips on the base of his
neck and sucked in a mouthful of warm flesh.
	Everything about this slave felt good and tasted good; he wanted to
devour him with his body, with his arms and legs coiled around him rubbing
as much of his sweating skin against the slave's as possible, the flat of
his hard belly pressed tightly against and scraping Bret's back, fueling
the inferno blazing in his balls and at the base of his cock and building
volcanic pressures for the inevitable eruption.
	After endless minutes of delirium and pain, Kasim's entire body
stiffened, every muscle taut, his shoulders jerked back, his buttocks
clamped tightly together, then, with a gasp of dizzying ecstasy and a
vicious lunge forward, his cock exploded, drilling bolt after bolt of hot
cum into Bret's guts, burning the lips of his own cockhole.
	Over and over he pounded Bret's ass, gasping, groaning, crying out,
slamming himself on top of the slave with each powerful thrust, until,
exhausted, he collapsed, sweat rolling off his body.  Knowing he would
remain embedded in Bret's chute all night, he relished its tightness,
grinding his teeth in delirious agony as he drove himself deeper inside his
prize.
	Kasim blasted one salvo after another into the firm tight ass
beneath him, cumming four more times through the night, rising only once
from Bret's body to extinguish all the lights save a dim night light on the
wall over the bed.  He truly felt he was already in the eternal Paradise
promised faithful overseers, forever taking the holes of comely young and
lean body slaves like this one he was ravaging tonight.
	Bret's holes exceeded most such delights that had come his way
after he had been taken and broken by Shareem's slavers; now the feel of
this warm, strong flesh under him lulled him to sleep.  -0-

	When Mandrasat's automatic timer snapped on every overhead light at
dawn throughout the citadel, Bret did not awaken so much as come to in the
midst of an intrusive and incomprehensible brightness.  His mind rose
slowly from complete darkness through a blurred and fuzzy consciousness
like a gas bubble surfacing in a tar pit.  His first vague awareness, that
of Kasim's body sprawled on top of his own; his second, the hard spear
impaling him, rammed into the very core of his body, his gut muscles
clamped tight around its shaft, imprisoning it in a grip of steel.
	Still in a daze, the effects of the rohypnol dimming his awareness,
conscious of little else except the fullness of that hot grinding shaft
buried so deep within his belly, Bret began mindlessly shoving himself back
and forth against it, scraping its head abrasively against the center of an
exquisite pinpoint of pain flaming at the center of his gut.  He rammed
himself harder and faster into Kasim's cock, arousing the overseer
instantly to a furious heat.
	Wrestling Bret violently across the bed, Kasim, snarling hungrily,
threw his arms tightly around his ribs, pinning his arms to his sides and
coiling his legs around the slave's thigh and calf muscles, jabbing his
feet along his shins and ankles.  He pinned Bret under him, slamming his
ass back, driving his blazing cock wildly, furiously into the depths of his
body.
	Overseer and slave writhed in unison, pounding into each other;
Kasim thrusting forward as Bret rammed himself back hard, grinding the tip
of Kasim's rigid cock into that unquenchable fiery spot deep inside,
screaming for more pain.
	Bret's own rock hard cock, squeezed between his belly and the bed,
erupted at the same instant the overseer's swollen, blistering shaft
blasted barrage after barrage into that hot, wet void.

	Crying aloud, Bret shook violently, his guts clamping tight around
the overseer's cock, milking it for every drop.  Gasping for air and glued
to each other's sweat smeared body, the two continued twisting and growling
long minutes after their cocks had ceased pumping and had started to
soften.
	Neither moved; with his cock still planted in Bret's ass, Kasim
slid himself over the slave's body, licking his neck and tongue fucking his
ear, and all the suffering that Bret had endured over five days, still
living in his flesh, whirl- pooled deep into that burning, pulsating crater
of excruciating ecstatic pain.  He hated himself for his lust, hated
himself for wanting Kasim's cock fucking deep into his ass, but he wanted
more; he wanted the searing, rapturous agony never to end.
	Snarling like wild beasts, Bret and Kasim kicked and fought across
the top of the bed, curling themselves around each other, roughly slamming
their bodies together.  Bret cried out as Kasim straddled his hips,
twisting his right arm behind his back and shoving it up between his
shoulders, his scrapes and bruises screaming back to life.
	"I've got cock enough to last you forever," Kasim roared.
	"Master," Bret cried aloud, wincing. "Please, Master Kasim, I
hurt."
	"That's what slaves do," Kasim laughed, falling on top of Bret,
grinding his gold nipple rings abrasively across his back and shoulders
aggravating the slave's already inflamed welts and cuts and sending shock
waves of pain slicing back through his own nipples and plunging down his
belly into his guts and groin.  "They hurt to please their masters," he
choked, "and you please me very much."
	To emphasize his point, Kasim ground his teeth into the base of
Bret's neck, puncturing the skin, and drawing enough blood to redden his
lips and teeth and drip from the corners of his mouth.
	"And now," he snapped, rolling off Bret's body and over the edge of
the bed, "it's time to get you ready for the great performance between my
slave and Zarak, your master.  If my slave satisfies both Zarak and me
completely, I will urge Zarak to give you to him for his pleasure for an
hour.
	"I have seen the way the two of you have glanced at each other,
even when Katib and I were flailing your asses raw.  You like to look at
his cock, so we will get you ready to do more than just look at it.
	"Get out of bed," he ordered, "and stand in the middle of the
room."
	Grimacing, Bret painfully complied, groaning as he raised himself
up, gripping the edge of the mattress as he eased himself off the bed and
onto his feet.  He stood there a few moments, moaning and swaying back and
forth.
	"You fucking slave," Kasim shouted, grabbing Bret's left ear and
swinging him to the middle of the room .  "You obey me instantly; you do
not whimper and cry."
	Teeth clenched, tears streaming down his face, Bret stood totally
defeated, beaten physically, emotionally, spiritually, psychologically; in
every way imaginable, he had been broken.  He throbbed with pain and simply
wanted everything to be over, to be done with, to be ended.  He didn't care
about death, only that it be soon and quick, but he knew in a wordless way
deep inside his mind that if he were to die at Mandrasat, his death would
be neither swift nor painless.
	Kasim grabbed a chain leash from the storage shelf and snapped one
end quickly to the small ring on the front of Bret's slave collar, then
yanked the other end to pull him forward.  As the cubicle's door slid open,
Kasim dragged Bret into the dim and dingy corridor he'd been led through
the previous evening.  He was beginning his sixth full day of captivity,
and he could only hope it would not be the most painful one yet.  He would
shortly discover that hope to be in vain.
	The automatic door closed behind Kasim and Bret, for the moment
sealing the overseer's playroom away from the rest of Mandrasat,
extinguishing the lights inside and deactivating Shareem's motion sensitive
video cameras in each corner of the ceiling.  -0-

	Five Nubian slaves were waiting for Bret as Kasim hauled him into a
latrine, snapped off the leash and shoved him into their midst.  Even they
were astounded at his battered condition.
	"Clean this slave inside and out," Kasim shouted as the Nubians led
him to a line of shit holes in front of the far wall.
	They were as gentle as they could be in greasing his hole and
positioning him for the enemas, but Kasim, standing close behind, growled
menacingly if he thought they were moving too slowly.
 Could Bret have mustered his thoughts, he might have seen that a
continuing, inescapable, agonizing pain somehow numbs the contact point
between body and mind, not eliminating his suffering by any means, but
blunting its intensity.  He groaned and cried aloud as the Nubians went
about their task in total silence.  He was douched and flushed three times
before being led to the showers.
	Kasim stood by the doorway, his legs spread and his fists planted
on his hips as Bret was guided from the latrine.  Motioning for one of the
Nubians to accompany him, then, exiting the latrine, he ordered the rest to
keep washing and rinsing the slave until he returned.
	They stood Bret outside the harsh cascade from the showers,
catching water in the cups of their hands and gently letting it dribble
over his body.  Even these slight ministrations were almost too painful for
Bret to bear.  Trying to be as easy with him as they could, they soaped and
rinsed him several times before the overseer returned.
	One of the Nubians was brushing Bret's teeth, and two others
clipping his finger and toe nails when Kasim burst into the room; the
Nubian accompanying him carried a large open cannister and an arm full of
adhesive pads.
	"Wipe off all that excess water," he ordered, "then stick on these
pads and spread the gel over him.  Top to bottom.  Every crease and crack."
	  At the first touch of gel to his damp flesh, after the pads had
been affixed to his body, Bret's skin again erupted into fire, then, as
quickly, a blossoming, chilling numbness enveloped him.  Because his
recollections of the previous night were scrambled, he could not recall
Kasim applying this same gel to his body before.  As hard as he tried to
remember anything from the previous night, he could not; as it always
would, the rohypnol had short-circuited recollections of recent events.
	He did, however, remember every horrifying and agonizing detail of
pulling a farm cart like a draft animal in a team of Nubian slave beasts.
He winced at the memory of the driver's whip, and the Nubian monster raping
him throughout.  He could also see the exercise pit and Hassan and his
Nubian's whip and the room where they took him to fuck his mouth and ass.
But from that point on, a thick, dark cloud swirled in front of his mind.
	The gel anesthetized the surface of his body, but within, pain
still beat relentlessly from his Adam's apple to the lips of his anus, and
Bret knew exactly why.  No cooling gel, no gentle strokes from Nubian
fingers could halt the images flooding in his mind, the massive base of
overseer and black Nubian cocks protruding from his mouth, stretching his
lips and jaws to the extreme, each giant cockhead and cockshaft slamming
into his throat, jabbing against his tongue and cheeks.  Like a video loop,
over and over, hairless, muscled abs crushed against his face; lips
squeezed tight against his own, tongues digging into his mouth, his ears,
his nostrils.
	He could see grasping hands stretching his buttocks wide apart, and
fingers digging into his rectum, layering his chute with lubricants.  He
could see every cock that had fucked his ass, every swollen cockhead, every
throbbing cockshaft.  He saw again each meaty spike shoved into his mouth,
bulging his cheeks; saw his own tongue coiled around every turgid hunk of
cock flesh, scouring each vein, each ridge until the final stiffening as
the cock tube split open discharging wad upon wad of thick, hot cum, and he
saw himself insanely, greedily sucking cock day after day.
	Memories and pictures bombarded his brain, assaulting his mind,
corroding his spirit; chocking with despair and degradation, Bret flung
back his head and howled as loud and long as he could, until Kasim slapped
him twice across the face.
	"What the fuck are you doing, slave," he shouted.  "Cut that noise.
Now!"
	The Nubians stepped back against the wall, their eyes cast down;
Bret continued sobbing.
	"I don't have time for this crap," Kasim snarled.  He snapped the
leash back onto Bret's collar, and, ordering the Nubians to clean the
latrine and showers, he dragged the slave back into the corridor and into
the horrors of a new day.  -0-

	Shareem, flanked by two naked, hairless Nubian giants, stood in
exactly the same spot in his torture chamber where Bret had last seen him
five days before, on the day following his capture, and spasms of terror
raced through his body.  The fiend who had been so gracious on board Flight
Zero-Zero-One, ordering Bret champagne and chatting easily about the exotic
items he seeks around the world for his elegant clients, so hospitable in
offering air conditioned sanctuary at Colonel Mustafa's desert air base,
and who, without a second thought or moment's hesitation, ordered him
chloroformed, stripped naked, brutally beaten and unrelentingly raped for
almost a week, posed once more, arms folded, in front of one of the torture
devices he called 'neural simulators,' gloating obscenely at the bruised
and pain wracked slave.
	"How the proud have fallen," he thought with great satisfaction.
"This self-absorbed whelp, claiming the world as inheritance because he had
become a priest of Rome, believing nothing could breach his smug existence
or hurl his life into the pit, has discovered something new in his
universe, pain and degradation"
	He chuckled under his breath at the naked, beaten slave cringing
before him, images of this same specimen lolling across the airplane seat
next to his in first class, as though first class were his birthright,
jabbering inanely about his exalted education, with his hair and clothing
in wild disarray, flaunting his arrogance.  Shareem's evil grin spread as
he now contemplated Bret's gleaming bald head and hairless body.
	"Salaam," Kasim hissed, slamming his fist between Bret's shoulder
blades, knocking him to his knees in front of the monster who owned his
flesh and blood, his body and soul.
	Shareem stood in brown leather sandals and wore an elaborately
embroidered white, ankle length sleeveless robe, held in place by a white
cord tied in front which he undid immediately, letting it slide from his
shoulders when Bret fell to his knees, then, stepping out of his sandals,
stood naked in front of him, a vision of terror and brutality.
	"Well, slave," he growled as Bret bent over to kiss and tongue his
feet, "it appears you are learning your lessons, and now that you are
beginning to learn the true meaning of the word pain, I trust you will do
anything and everything you can to avoid it.
	"Of course," he sighed, enjoying the first brush of Bret's lips and
tongue on the tip of his cock, "some pain is unavoidable."
	Shareem gripped the top of Bret's head, holding it in place as he
shoved his stiffening cock between the slave's lips.
	"Open your eyes, slave, and look at me," he hissed
malevolently. "Your master's pleasure and will are all that matters; you
have no other reason to exist except to pleasure me and obey, and if you do
not," he threatened, emphasizing his words with a sharp forward thrust of
his cock into Bret's throat, "the games Kasim has played with you till now
will be nothing against the agonies he is capable of."
	Only his primal instinct to survive had enabled Bret to avoid
stangling each time he took cock unawares down his his throat.  Twisting
his head and rolling it from side to side, swallowing as forcefully as he
could against invading cockheads before starting to pass out seemed to
induce a piston reflex in the overseers and Nubians who had fucked his
mouth before, and it appeared to prompt the same response from Shareem who
grunted as he ground his thick patch of wiry cockhairs across the slave's
face.
	Bret's eyes and cheeks bulged as Shareem's swollen cock slammed
into the sides of his mouth and the back of his throat.  He clasped his
hands around the sides of Shareem's buttocks as he had been taught to do
over the previous five and a half days, sliding his hands over Shareem's
muscled cheeks and into the warm, crease between them.
 He rubbed his fingertips over the tops of Shareem's inner thighs, on
either side of his balls, while shoving his tongue rapidly along the
underside of his cock until the familiar spasms began to take hold,
signaling Shareem was ready to blow cum.
	In spite of himself, Bret surrendered to the explosions of lust
surging through his body, stiffening his cock and insanely compelling him
to attack Shareem's mass of cockflesh with ravenous lips and tongue.
Suddenly, with a mighty shove, Shareem knocked Bret backwards, sending him
slamming into the floor.
	"You are not worthy of a Master's cock," he sneered, his hard shaft
jutting out in front, precum glistening its head.  "You suck like a
whithered, old Roman whore.  Did you never fuck a withered, old Roman
whore, slave?  Tell me!  You lived in Rome did you not?" he spat, "prancing
across all the fine piazzas in your long black dresses?  Maybe you chased
boy whores.  Did you never fuck boy whores all your years in Rome?"
	Doubled over, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands,
Bret burned with humiliation and disgrace, tears of despair welling in his
eyes.  Shareem had ripped the scab from his most painful wound, the
betrayal of his life of privilege and honor as a Roman priest.
Unacknowledged self-doubt and denial of his sexual desire for men had
throughout his entire life lain buried behind an impregnable wall of
shining intellectual and athletic accomplishments.  He had been dubbed
competitor and champion, hero and scholar, the pride of his peers and his
Church, a charade now ruthlessly exposed in a most catastrophic and
traumatic manner imaginable.
	No matter how much he wanted to defy and repel Shareem and his
loathsome nature, he wanted the pain filled subjugation of his body that
much more; he wanted granite hard thighs clamped tight around his hips and
swollen, steel hard cocks ripping deep into his ass, detonating screams for
mercy from his lips.  He wanted cock more than he wanted to wake up from
this madness. He had always wanted cock, and that strangled the life out of
him.
	Shareem jabbed his foot between Bret's buttocks and shouted, "Crawl
like the dog you are and kneel next to Kasim; kiss his feet and lick them
with your tongue and pray I do not hand him a whip."
	His face contorted with pain and loathing, Bret pulled himself
across the floor, and scant moments after he began his chore of kissing and
tonguing Kasim's feet, the door to Shareem's chamber slid open once again,
and giant Zarak, his massive genitals still constrained in a steel webbed
chastity pouch, strode into the room flanked by two Nubian slaves equal in
every way to his massive dimensions.
	Behind him, the fighter pilot, a dazed automaton, his hairless
body, like Bret's, adorned with endorphin secreting adhesive pads and
gleaming under a coat of pain numbing gel, entered the room, a lean and
muscular Nubian leading him by a chain leash.  Behind him, three additional
naked black slaves completed the procession, each swinging whips of bundled
knotted twine.
	In an extraordinary demonstration of the raw power and control
Shareem exerted by his simple presence, Zarak came to a halt in front of
him, dropped to his knees, and performed his salaam.  It was not the terror
filled performance executed on command by Bret or any of the other auction
slaves, rather it was an act of complete and abject surrender to his
Master's will and was accepted as nothing less by Shareem.
	When he had finished kissing his master's cockhead and testicles,
Zarak rose straight up from his knees, propelled by his mighty calf and
thigh muscles; one of the Nubians accompanying him then unhooked the sides
of the steel chastity pouch, letting it slip into the palm of his hand and
unleashing Zarak's gigantic cock and balls from two full days of biting
confinement.  The slave then carried the pouch to the wall cupboard
containing Shareem's whips, chains, and restraints.
	Zarak stepped to the center of the room, shaking first one then the
other massive leg and pulling and stretching his balls and his rapidly
hardening cock; he dropped onto and sprawled spread eagle on the floor, his
cock jutting above his flat, hard belly.
	The Nubian leading the pilot snapped his leash free, as Shareem's
slaves assisted their master back into his robe and sandals.
	Kasim suddenly kicked Bret to the side, away from his feet, and
lunged at the pilot.  "Salaam to Master Shareem, you fucking slave," he
growled, shoving him to his knees.
	"Oh, no, no, no, Kasim," Shareem clucked, feigning disinterest.  "I
think we can forgo that little ritual.  We have, after all, a much more
engaging event to observe.  I want your slave to slide himself down Zarak's
cock; have him facing Zarak as well.  That image of pure delight on Zarak's
angelic face should not be missed, especially by your slave."
	His face twisted in a vile smirk, Kasim bent over and grabbed the
front of the pilot's slave collar and hauled him to his feet, shoving him
toward the monstrous shape lying, waiting, in the middle of the room.  The
slave stared wide eyed at Zarak's massive, twitching shaft, it's veins and
muscles straining so tightly against the skin it appeared to be on the
verge of splitting open.  He remembered how this huge hunk of cock meat
felt crammed into his mouth less than a week before, how it felt as it
hardened, bulging against his cheeks and tongue and clogging his throat.
Now it was going to split his ass and dig deep into his belly.
	A Nubian, his own cock stiff and slapping his belly as he walked
across the room toward Zarak, carried an open jar of lubricating gel from
the cupboard.  Kneeling beside the overseer's right hip, the slave scooped
out a generous wad of gel, then, shaking with excitement, wrapped his fist
around Zarak's hot meaty spike, slowly greasing it's full rigid length with
long even strokes eliciting deep rumblings from the giant's throat.  His
cock now thicker, darker, and throbbing visibly after the Nubian's firm
caress, Zarak pressed his fingers forcefully around its base, stretching it
tight and forcing it stand straight up like an ax handle on end.  Just the
sight of Zarak's gigantic mast hardened every cock in the room.  The eight
Nubians knew better than even to think about jerking their quivering spikes
without direct permission; Kasim, pushing his slave with one hand, tugged
on his ball sack with the other, forcing his own fleshy spear to jut
straight out from his hairless abs, and Bret, gaping bug-eyed at the
enormity of Zarak's shaft, wondered how that monster had ever fit up his
ass, and how he had ever survived.
	"Begin!" Shareem commanded as the pilot positioned himself astride
Zarak's hips.
	His eyes glinting with fear and, staring directly into the giant's
misshapen face, he half squatted, half knelt, directly on top of the
cockshaft's huge mushroom cap, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering as
its tip nudged his hole. Before the slave could adjust himself, the
overseer drew his legs up instantly, bending them at the knees and, with a
mighty explosion of power and strength, with slabs of gut and abdominal
muscles bulging through his skin, arched his upper body from the floor to a
sitting position and in one rapid swoop, unclasped his hands from behind
his head, and snapped his arms around the slave's midsection, pinning his
arms to his sides, crushing their torsos together.
	Zarak roared in triumph as the pilot's head fell back and he
emitted a long, loud gasp.  The giant simultaneously shoved himself upwards
as he ground the slave's ass down the full length of his monstrous spike.
The pilot was on his knees, immobilized, his hole sucking at the base of
Zarak's cock, his gut muscles grinding against it.  His hips were now
pinned between Zarak's tree trunk thighs, and his chest squeezed flat
against the overseer's.  Both shook violently, spasms ripping through their
bodies as Zarak pounded his cock again and again straight up into the
pilot's guts.
	The noise in the room was ear shattering as Zarak bellowed his lust
and the pilot, writhing like a speared fish, screamed his pain.  Bret
stared open mouthed at the two bodies, welded together, twisting and
straining, slamming violently against the floor.  The pilot's head, thrown
back, his mouth agape, screeching and groaning.
	Bret's own experience of Zarak mercilessly slamming his cock deep
into his belly enabled him to know what the pilot slave was going through,
and he winced at the pain still burning in his own guts.  Zarak then
clamped his mouth tight on the slave's left nipple, sucking and chewing,
his cock fully embedded in a long, hot tunnel of crunching muscles
	The pilot, teeth clenched, strangling cries of pain and rapture in
his throat, stiffened suddenly as his rigid cock squeezed between his belly
and Zarak's shot geysers of cum onto them both.  Zarak pressed their bodies
tighter together as he continued to pile drive his cock into the dark
recesses of the slave's bowels, and the slave, fully impaled on Zarak's
massive shaft, slammed his body down to meet the howling overseer's upward
thrusts.
	Zarak's body suddenly stiffened, every muscle knotted tight.  He
unlocked his power hold around the pilot's arms and with massive hands,
grabbed him at the elbows, bent backwards, holding himself rigid midway
between the floor and the pilot's upright body.
	He stretched and violently twisted his gargantuan torso, coiled
slabs of muscles rippling from chest to hips, his back arching, his huge
hands cementing the pilot rigidly in place, impaled on the pounding length
of the his monster cock.  The pilot slave moaned and cried out loudly as
Zarak's battering ram thickened, digging deeper, gouging into his guts.
The two rocked wildly until suddenly, both froze in place, suspended in an
instant of time as Zarak's cocktube expanded and the lips of his cockhole
dilated wide enough to swallow a finger tip.
	The giant slammed the pilot's body hard onto his crotch, thrusting
himself upward with one final plunge, his hot semen erupting like boiling
magma exploding through the mouth of a caldera, blasting bolt after bolt
into the deepest parts of the slave's guts,
	The onlookers howled along with slave and overseer as the two
thrashed about the floor, locked together in orgiastic convulsions; even
Shareem, his face glossy with sweat, his eyes glazed, could not remain
aloof as the pilot, writhing like a boa constrictor, instinctively crushed
Zarak's gigantic cock inside his guts at each spasm.

	The Nubians screeched like wild animals, flailing their arms and
leaping around the room, their beefy cocks slashing the air like huge black
truncheons.
	Zarak, roaring through clenched teeth, his cock burning fiercely,
the muscles and veins of his neck and shoulders pounding through his skin,
unleashed a blistering torrent of hot cum through his tightly squeezed
cocktube. His massive spike, clearly visible to all in the room, strained
through the slave's belly like a burrowing serpent, fighting against
undulating slabs of muscle squeezing, stretching, crushing it.
	Even after five days of continuous ass fucking by fifteen Nubian
slave beasts, hand picked by Kasim, the fighter pilot was swept far beyond
any pain he'd so far endured, and far beyond any ecstasy he'd ever
experienced.  A searing tidal wave of fire surged through his belly, as
Zarak's cock, thrusting itself machine gun like at each salvo, drilled
bolts of cum into his body.  With his levels of endorphins drastically
increased by the adhesive pads and swirling through his system, and
excruciating pain and pleasure feeding off each other, the Navy pilot
exploded into a state of mindless, blind euphoria, jetting cum straight
onto Zarak's chest.
	Eventually, even giant Zarak had spent himself; his cock continued
pumping even as it grew soft.  The pilot slave moaned, and the room grew
quiet.  Zarak released his grip on the pilot's elbows and, dropping his
arms slowly to his side, lowered his body to the floor, his legs following
suit; the slave remained upright, straddling Zarak's hips, eyes squeezed
shut, shaking violently, with Zarak's cock, gigantic even limp, still
embedded firmly in his belly.
	Zarak motioned the slave to bend forward, then, grabbing his flanks
just above his hips, pulled him off his gargantuan cum smeared, fleshy
shaft.
	"Lick me clean," he growled, dragging one hand up the slave's back
and grasping the back of his head, pushing his face into his sweat and cum
streaked chest.  "Lick me clean."
	As the pilot slave began dragging his tongue across Zarak's broad
barreled chest, Shareem turned to Kasim and said, "Get the other slave to
work on Zarak as well.  Two tongues are better than one," he chuckled.
	Kasim grabbed Bret's slave collar and dragged him bodily to where
Zarak lay, "You do his right side," he ordered.  "My slave will do his
left.  Get busy.  I want to hear loud sucking noises coming from your
mouths.  I want to hear how much you love dragging your tongue over Zarak's
big, beautiful body.  I want to hear you sucking every crack and crease.
Start at his arm pits."
	The pilot slid off Zarak's chest, kneeling tight against his ribs,
bent down and began sucking hard in his left arm pit.  Bret pressed his
lips into the right one, shoving his tongue into grooved, sweaty muscle.
Almost instinctively, as the slaves worked their lips and tongues back and
forth around Zarak's arm pits, they began to run their hands over his belly
and sides, through the layer of cum the pilot had showered over him.
	As Bret's lips and tongue slid ever closer to Zarak's right nipple,
he could not but remember his first encounter with that pierced, bulbous
tube and the pain racked day that followed.  Chocking both on the sweat and
body taste in his mouth and his own fear, he was terrified at what horrors
Zarak, Kasim, and Jullah could bring down upon him if he did not comply.
He would do what he had to; not completely understanding why this excited
him, or why his cock was hardening between his crotch and Zarak's knotted
rib cage.  He did know he wanted his mouth and body sliding and writhing on
top of Zarak's hard manflesh.  He wanted that electric sensation pulsing
through his cock, balls, and guts.
	Zarak groaned as the slaves' mouthes closed over his distended
nipples, suckling like babes at the breast.  As their tongues coiled around
his nipple rings, and they slowly ground their teeth around the base of his
nips, his groans increased in volume; he squirmed and twitched against the
floor.  Both slaves were now prone, lying flat against Zarak's sides and
hips, their heads bent over his chest, their tongues scraping the cavity
between his pecs, and their stiff cocks pushing against his taut skin.
Slaves and overseer fought the fire blazing in their groins, not to
overcome it, but to prolong its ecstasy.
	Kasim stood over Bret, staring mesmerized at the slaves' tongues
darting back and forth across Zarak's belly, digging into his navel, their
lips sucking ridges of flesh into their hungry mouths, his own cock jutting
rigidly toward the ceiling.
	Zarak bellowed as the slaves' mouths reached the base of his
turgid, swollen cockshaft twitching against his abs, and rose up on his
elbows, throwing his head back, gasping as they both licked and sucked the
cum from its steel hard length, their lips and tongues sliding against each
other.  Bret dragged his mouth slowly back down Zarak's cock to his smooth
velvety ball sack and began to suck on the two over sized plums one at a
time.
	His head lay back across Zarak's massive thigh, his face under the
giant's huge genitals, his cheeks bulging and lips stretched to the limit.
Bret worked Zarak's whole scrotum into his mouth, and, crammed full of
Zarak's balls, simulated a rhythmic swallowing reflex, squeezing the beefy
orbs together at the bottom of their sack and tugging not gently at all on
the giant's scrotum.  Zarak kicked and twisted, writhing at the explosions
of lust pounding through his body from one mouth sucked tight against his
cock and a second tight around his balls.
	As they sucked on the giant, the slaves' jabbed their fingers hard
against his inner thighs, between his buttocks, over and into his hole,
until, in one cataclysmic convulsion, he hurled himself across the floor,
hauling Bret and the pilot along with him, his cock blasting massive gobs
of cum, much of it spewing out of the slave's mouth and splattering onto
Bret's chin and neck.
	The frenzied Nubians were near hysteria, leaping and screeching,
trying mightily to keep from cumming in front of Shareem, their master of
pain and suffering.  Kasim made no such pretense, his face frozen in a wide
eyed leer, his fist clamped tight around his throbbing cock, blasting
streams of cum over the three bodies writhing together on the floor.  But
Shareem, almost benumbed himself by raw sexual arousal, noted Kasim's
thrusting hips behind arcs of cum erupting out of his swollen, purple
cockhead.  He would deal with Kasim later.
	"Enough, enough," Shareem shouted over the din.  "Silence!"
	Almost immediately the Nubians stopped their noise, their black
cocks still hard and quivering.  Zarak and the two slaves lay on top of
each other, rubbing their bodies together, gasping and panting, Kasim
looming over them, open mouthed, spit dripping from his chin.
	Clapping his hand rhythmically, Shareem continued, "Most diverting,
Zarak," a slight strain evident in his voice as he brought himself back
under control.  "Both slaves showed improvement over the past five days."
Then switching into Arabic, he said to the overseers, "Give the two slaves
to the Nubians for an hour, then take them to the courtyard and have them
branded."

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