Date: Sun, 17 Sep 2006 21:46:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mandrasat, Part 23

(Posted by Pete Brown on behalf of the author.  The
author was subject to harassment and threats when
earlier chapters were posted, and Pete is acting as
"cut out").

MANDRASAT PART XXIII

At high tide, and under a scorching noonday sun, the
guided missile destroyer, Everett Ralston, sailed out
of Maputo Harbor, Mozambique, and into the Indian
Ocean; it was the 27th of December 2001 and ahead lay
a New Years Eve blow out at the ship's second Good
Will Port-of-Call, Dar es Salaam, 1400 nautical miles
and four days north at top speed.
Sean Olivier, assistant Electronics System Mate and on
board Olympic body building contender, had already
begun planning raucous and riotous orgies for himself
and a select bunch of his fuck buddies, "select" in
terms of the amount of cash in their totes.
He'd been working out the juicy details for over a
month before they'd set sail on this cruise from Diego
Garcia. Even during the time just now on Christmas
liberty with his good bud, Jeremy Posten, fucking his
way through shore leave in the luxury of Maputo's
Hotel Europa, he was choreographing his next fuck
fests in Dar es Salaam, and the ones later on that
week in Mombasa, before the isolation of a long,
monkey jerking seven day cruise to Qassir City on the
Persian Gulf.
"Gettin a fuckin beach house. New Year's Eve. Right on
the fuckin ocean, Man," he'd squawked harshly, as the
final hours of his shore leave in Maputo began , and
the abrasive bite from the crisscrossed ribs of his
condom sent fiery shock waves surging through his
thick meaty cock and deep into ass hole.
"Jesusgodfuck!" he howled, thrashing atop the hotel
room's extra large bed like a wild bull, his legs
rigid, spread wide and his back arched over a stack of
pillows, his cock swallowed whole by the lean, tawny
cunt straddling his crotch, stretching, twisting,
crushing, grinding the rigid stalk deep inside her own
hot muscled fuck sack. Sean's eyes crossed and saliva
dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.
A second creamy, cafe-au-lait skinned high assed
hooker knelt behind Sean's fuck pussy, squeezing their
bodies together, and reaching around, grabbing her
tits and tugging at her nipples as she bucked and
slammed the sailor's cock.
Sean screeched loudly, his fingers digging into a
third female body sprawled black flesh on white across
his belly, mouthing the lips of her cunt into his
right flank, just above his hip, her teeth and tongue
buried in his left arm pit.
"Gonna be fucked out when this trip's over," he'd
growled hardly above a gasp, his straining cock
squeezed tight by his whore's well trained abs and gut
muscles. "Gonna need medical attention," he hissed
through clenched teeth.
Then, "Gotta get movin, Dude," Jeremy squealed,
convulsing with laughter, plopped bare ass naked in a
giant overstuffed chair across the room, legs wide
open, eyes glazed over in fuck ecstasy, a beer in one
hand and two huge breasted naked neighborhood whores
sucking his cock and balls, a third draped over the
back of his chair, her tongue stroking the base of his
neck, her finger tips twisting and pinching his
nipples. "Gotta be back by eight o'clock AYEMM, Dude,
or we ain't goin nowhere New Years Eve PEEMM."
At that moment, Sean howled in the flaming heat of his
own fuck frenzy as the last of his steaming cum spit
through the lips of his piss hole.
His bitch collapsed face down on top of him, dragging
her companion with her, over the one writhing on
Sean's belly, all four gasping for air, their arms,
legs, tongues, fingers, toes, digging into each other,
uncontrollable sex spasms jerking their muscles, an
incendiary finale to a day and a half of cum and sweat
drenched orgasms.
Jeremy gaped open mouthed and dumbfounded at the
bodies coiling around each other on the bed in front
of him, sweat glistening on hot flesh, himself barely
aware of the three sets of mouths and hands assailing
his own beefy cock, balls and ripped torso.
"Ain't got a fuckin boner left in me," Sean panted,
shoving the tangle of cunt meat aside and pulling
himself to the edge of the bed. "C'mon, you bitches,"
he rasped. "We gonna play rub my duba-dub-dub in the
shower," he leered, poking his finger into the one's
cum slimed cunt, inching her off the bed. "Get your
ass movin," he shouted over his shoulder at Jeremy,
"got to get back by eight."
"Ass what I said," Jeremy slurred, hauling himself and
his whores up off the chair, "said that a hour ago.
Fuck," he lurched into a table then stumbled into the
second bathroom pulling his giggling train with him.
"Gotta shower, Tooties." With one arm hugging the
nearest whore tight against his hip, Jeremy reached
into the beige marble cabinet and twisted the knob,
releasing a torrent of hot water. "Grab the soap, baby
doll," he screeched. "My wet ass is yours!"
Fucking their hot, meaty cocks up squirming, grasping,
pink lipped mocha cunts along the East Coast of Africa
surpassed any and all fantasies for Sean and Jeremy.
Their grueling, daily unending body building regimen
enabled them keep every fiber of their being, sexual
and psychological, deliberately focused, including on
the volatile, fuck maddening triangle of wrinkled skin
on the underside of their cock heads, up until now.
After more than thirty-six hours of pounding sanity
out of their consciousness in throbbing spasms of gut
wrenching ecstasy, their balls were on empty and their
cocks on heavy dangle.
Since the two sailors and their six whores had been
naked their entire time together, Sean and Jeremy had
little packing to do. They'd brought trinkets for the
girls, some noxious smelling French perfume they'd
bought back at the PX on Diego Garcia, faux jewelry,
and a wad of US dollars that would make any working
girl happy to start all over again. After they all had
showered and dressed, the girls gave Sean and Jeremy
passionate farewell but soon to be forgotten kisses.
With a scant hour to make it back to the dock and onto
the Everett Ralston before their leave was up, the two
young sailors by-passed the hotel's antique elevators,
and scrambled down five flights of stairs in less time
than one of the gilded carriages would have taken just
to reach them on the fifth floor. In a flurry of
laughter and high-fives, they checked out of the
elegant dowager hotel, scurried across the marble
lobby floor and burst through the staid entrance,
exploding into the torrid brilliance of a sun blasted
Christmas morning.
"Njonjo, my man," Sean bellowed at the sight of the
hotel's chauffeur. "Right on time. Good for you."

-0-
Zarak wrapped his fist tightly around Bret's cock and
pulled him out of the latrine; the Nubian slave grooms
circled around the door, giggling and jerking their
thick, black fuck poles so recently buried deep the
white slave's ass and throat. Bret groaned at the
intensity of Zarak's grip on his cock and at the sharp
pain still stabbing him from the fiery brand scrawled
across his right buttock.
Three days before, Kasim had declared the scars burned
into Bret and Ballard's asses works of art as he
traced his finger along blackened lines of raw seared
flesh, impervious to their screams of anguish.
Striding ahead, Zarak refrained from speaking as he
dragged his slave through Mandrasat's maze of
corridors. The giant overseer enjoyed the feel of this
slave's cock squeezed tightly in the palm of his hand;
when this day's proceedings were over, he would again
enjoy his lean, hard body, a tasty fuck toy with warm
throbbing holes at either end.
Zarak decided to increase his pace to their
destination, forcing Bret to swallow his pain and sob
inwardly.
"Silence you fucking slave," Zarak roared, twisting
and yanking Bret's cock even harder. "I will have none
of your moaning and groaning. Slaves do not moan or
groan when they do their master's bidding. Do you hear
my words, slave?"
Bret ground his teeth together and with tears rimming
his eyes, nodded silently, desperately trying to match
Zarak's gait and keep from surrendering to an
overwhelming need in his cock to blow the huge load of
cum boiling at its base and along the length of its
fuck tube. Eventually the overseer slowed and came to
a halt in front of a door that quickly slid open for
him
Still gritting his teeth, Bret squeezed his eyes shut,
not just for fear of looking into this new room, but
because of the pain raking his ass and the fire
burning the length of his cock. Suddenly, jerked
violently into the room and abruptly released from
Zarak's grip, Bret gasped loudly, his eyes popped
open, and terror once again tore at his guts.
The room was one of Mandrasat's typical grey cement
vaults with four florescent lights hanging from the
ceiling and motion detector cameras at the top of each
corner; what was not typical was the intense heat in
the room and the two metal dentist chairs anchored in
the middle of the floor, facing each other, ten feet
or so apart, their backs arched behind their seats at
a forty-five degree angle. In spite of his pain and
the heat beginning to envelope him, Bret was wrapped
in cold, clammy sweat. He shook as droplets ran from
his arm pits, his forehead, his chin, down his belly
to the tip of his cock, mixing with a strand of precum
suspended from his piss hole.
"Over there," Zarak snarled, shoving him toward one of
the chairs, the one opposite the one occupied by his
fellow slave, Jonathan Ballard.
Ballard was strapped to the bare metal, his arms drawn
up and back tightly above his head, wrists clamped to
the top of the chair's extra high back; a heavy
leather strap across his mid-section held him in
place, his legs were spread wide in front of him,
elevated above his hips, feet pointing up at the
ceiling, strapped at thighs, knees, and ankles to
wide, rigid appendages, jutting out from the sides of
the chair, his every muscle glistening with sweat.
Nothing barred full access to his helpless, naked
body.
With his own fear virtually blinding him to his
surroundings, Bret did not notice the streak of angry
red skin encircling the flange of Ballard's cockhead,
and even when his eyes registered the sight, his mind
was so paralyzed he did not comprehend that his fellow
slave had been circumcised. Spread eagled as he was
and affixed tightly to the chair, Ballard's newly
clipped cock hung over his elongated ball sack like a
thick meaty faucet, swollen and purple. His rapid,
shallow breathing pummeled the air.
Several Nubians were clustered about each chair,
giggling and fingering one another's cocks and balls,
twitching in anticipation of what was to come. Without
a word, Zarak shoved Bret into the chair across from
Ballard, and the three Nubians around it held him down
as the overseer strapped him securely in place. His
eyes wide with fear, his own rapid and shallow
breathing matching Ballard's, he slowly became aware
of his situation and the oppressive heat in the room.
Now streams of sweat poured from his body. It was all
part of the brutal process he and Ballard were about
to undergo.
Bret's eyes were ultimately drawn to Ballard's cock
and balls directly across from him, and, as he began
to realize that the man's foreskin he had so
ecstatically sucked had been sheared away, exposing a
reddened mushroom head, the door to the room slid open
and overseers Kasim and Jullah, and Dr. Katib burst
noisily into the room.
"Ah," Katib loudly proclaimed, "our two baby slaves
are ready for their next beauty treatment."
The overseers laughed along with Mandrasat's sadistic
medic.
"Yes," Jullah concurred, his black muscled body
already beginning to gleam with sweat from the
excessive heat pouring into the room. "I think this is
going to be a delightful experience for us all."
Katib kicked off his sandals and let his ankle length
brown sleeveless caftan drop to the floor; he wore
nothing underneath, and stood as naked as the
overseers next to him. Turning to Kasim and Jullah, he
said, "Get everything ready, let's get this done
quickly before we melt in this fucking heat."
The two overseers stepped to a black topped counter
that ran the length of a side wall; several sets of
cupboards were arranged above, and as they began to
place instruments onto metal trays, Katib went and
stood in front of Ballard, bent over and slid his hand
under the slave's thick limp cock and held it up for
inspection.
"Very good cut if I do say so myself," he said
grinning cruelly, fingering the crimson scar
encircling the cockhead as Ballard twisted against his
restraints and cried aloud, begging, "No, Master,
don't. Please don't, Master" over and over.
"Shush, baby slave," Katib mocked Ballard's pleas,
"When you're up on the block, this big smooth hunk of
slave meat will get our customers hot and hard and
ready to bid high." Then turning to Zarak he hissed in
their own language, "Gag them."
With a jerk of his head, Zarak communicated Katib's
order to the Nubians who scurried to the counter to
retrieve two strips of cloth from one of the wall
cupboards. In less than a minute, the gags were forced
into the slaves' mouths and tied tightly in back of
their heads. The gags' function? Simply to prevent any
words erupting from the victims' throats, not to
bridle their screams.
Jullah, holding a tray with the implements of torture,
stood on Katib's right. The doctor bent over Ballard's
chest, and cupping his hands around the slave's tits,
began to suck and tongue his nipples, smearing them
with his saliva, drawing them up hard and erect and
eliciting deep moans from the slave.
He took a four inch clear plastic cylinder with a
suction cup on one end from Jullah's tray and affixed
it securely on top of Ballard's left nipple. He
repeated the process with the right nipple.
When both vials imprisoning Ballard's stiffened
nipples stuck out from the slave's chest, Katib took a
hand pump from the tray and, attaching its rubber
tubing to the open end of one of the cylinders, began
squeezing the pump's handle.
Ballard squirmed as forcefully as he could against the
restraints pinning him to the chair, crying loudly
into his gag as the vacuum Katib was creating began to
suck his nub gradually and searingly painfully up the
cylinder's length, and when the distended nipple
reached almost halfway to the top, the doctor quickly
detached the pump's rubber tubing and capped the
cylinder, leaving the trapped vacuum to continue its
work. He repeated the excruciating torture on
Ballard's right nipple; in the end, each would be
agonizingly stretched the full length of the
cylinders.
Pain, like a white hot poker, gouged Ballard's tits,
plunging into his belly and grabbing his genitals. In
spite of the torment slashing his mind and body,
Ballard's cock began to rise and harden, and the
scarred tissue ringing its head began to ooze blood.
"Bandage it up a bit," Katib said to Zarak, indicating
Ballard's cockhead. "It won't leak for long." Then the
doctor, stroking his own hard on, went and stood
between Bret's outstretched legs. Jullah turned and
positioned himself again on Katib's right.
"Ahhh," he sneered, bending over the helpless wretch,
a ruthless smile twisting his face, "Master Shareem's
priest slave from Rome. Hear me well you piece of dog
shit; it does not matter what any fucking slave was
before being delivered into Master Shareem's hands,
you are just fuck toys, and cock is now your god, and
you best not forget that." Katib then rolled Bret's
cock and balls between the palms of his hands,
delighting in the hefty feel of the slave's genitals.
"We're going to take you one step closer to the
auction block today, my sweet, luscious monk, and when
we finish with you, even your whoring pope would rush
to bid for your body."
Bret's eyes bulged with terror as Katib bent over his
chest and closed his mouth over his left nipple. The
doctor took more time sucking Bret's tits than he had
with Ballard, and he dug his fingers deeper and harder
into his pecs. In spite of the terror he felt watching
Ballard's suffering, his cock hardened quickly to its
full rigid length, now quivering against Katib's who
leaned into his body.
The doctor remained pressed against Bret, biting,
chewing, and sucking on his nubs, their cocks,
lubricated with sweat, grinding against each other,
and when Bret reached the edge of the precipice,
straining to loose a massive barrage of boiling cum,
Katib suddenly stood up straight, a vile smirk
twisting his face, and pinched the base of Bret's cock
hard, sending a lightening bolt of pain smashing into
the slave's guts, and withering his hard on instantly.
Denied release, liquid fire burned the length of his
cock, even the ring of his ass hole burned, but these
were nothing compared to the stretching of his nipples
that Katib had initiated. Pulling and straining
against the straps binding him to the chair just
exacerbated the pain from his branded ass. He was
consumed with pain.
"You just sit there a little while, my sweet priest
slave," Katib smirked as he finished capping the
second cylinder jutting out from Bret's chest. "I have
another patient to take care of," he howled gleefully,
then turned his attention back to Ballard.
A snear spread across Kasim's face, and his eyes
glistened with cruelty as he held his tray in front of
Katib; the doctor removed the loose bandage from the
end of the slave's cock and dropped it onto the tray
top, then took a set of three intersecting rings from
the tray, bent over the helpless Ballard, smiled and
whispered, "Now we make you irresistible."
He slid the first ring over the tortured head of
Ballard's cock and forced it down to the base, then
slid his hand under the slave's ball sac, elongated as
all their ball sacs were by the intolerable heat in
the room, and, with a malevolent grin twisting the
corners of his mouth, he forced Ballard's right ball
through the second of the intersecting rings,
flattening it as he shoved it along.
Unable to do more than twitch impotently against his
restraints, Ballard screamed into his gag as his balls
were flattened and squeezed through the rings of his
genital cinch, then Katib snapped the rings together,
between Ballard's ass hole and his scrotum, forcing
his balls to bulge out on either side of like two
swollen, red pontoons.
As incomprehensible as the pain was surging through
his body, mercifully, Ballard did not know that he'd
barely crossed the threshold of suffering. The pain
from his circumcision battered his cock, his balls
were on fire as also were his nipples, still
imprisoned and distended within the two plastic
cylinders.
Bret strained uselessly against the leather straps
binding him as the cinch was fitted onto his cock and
balls, and to the delight of Katib and the overseers,
his screams increased ever higher in pitch when his
testicles were flattened and forced through the rings
of his genital cinch. When the cinch was snapped into
place, his cock, like Ballard's, was fully erect,
rigid and throbbing, precum bubbling out of its piss
hole. The crushing pressure on his balls was
excruciating, his consciousness pounded by the
horrific fear that they would split wide open.
"Jullah will give you a nice massage," Katib grinned,
"while I attend to my other patient."
The black overseer took his place between Bret's
outstretched legs and began to stroke his own cock
until it too was fully erect and rigid, then bending
over the slave's pain wracked body, he whispered, "You
know I love your body, slave. Every curve, every
ridge, every dimple." Jullah drew his hands over
Bret's hips and thighs, slid his fingers into his
crotch, and all the while rubbing his cock up and down
the full length of Bret's. "You and I will have many
hours of ecstasy together. Just like this," and he
closed his lips over Bret's swollen cockhead and,
sucking his mouth tight around its shaft, slid down to
its base, assailing it with his tongue.
Bret groaned and cried aloud as his ball sac shriveled
and squeezed his testicles hard against his cinch's
rings, and his cock exploded in the warm tight
envelope of Jullah's mouth. Again and again, in the
frenzy of his orgasm, he shot volley after volley of
hot thick cum, pent up, denied release, and aflame for
so long. Seemingly every muscle of his body convulsed
with his cock to blast every thread of cum down
Jullah's throat.
For just a moment, Bret was lost in explosive wonders
of his orgasm; it fully consumed him, but just for a
moment. The hot, oppressive air in this torture
chamber was ripped apart by screams no gag could
muffle. Jullah continued sucking Bret's cock, but
Ballard's screams had annihilated the euphoria Bret
had drifted into. The cinch kept his cock semi-erect,
but its rigidity was gone, and he was besieged by wave
upon wave of inhuman howls and shrieks from across the
room.
When Jullah released Bret's cock, stood up, and
stepped aside, all Bret could see in front of him were
Katib, Zarak, and Kasim, naked and huddled over
Ballard's body. Terror of the unknown agony awaiting
him seized his guts, and Bret began to moan into his
gag out of mind mangling fear.
What Bret could not see, the overhead cameras captured
in every detail; they recorded Katib removing the
plastic cylinders from Ballard's distended nipples by
uncapping and blowing into them, then taking a pair of
forceps and a piercing tool, like a large ice pick,
stretching each nipple further out, then driving the
pick through the base of each one. Katib worked the
pick like a corkscrew, twisting it and shoving it back
and forth through Ballard's flesh.
Zarak blotted what blood splattered from the wounds
with pieces of bandage; when Katib was satisfied with
the width of the bore, he put the ice pick and the
forceps back on Kasim's tray and took a large, heavy
gauge steel ring from it. As Kasim returned his tray
to the work counter, Katib opened the ring by pulling
back on it, releasing a miniature precision spring
mechanism within and snapping it open.
Kasim returned almost instantly with a cannister of
antibiotic lubricant which he sprayed liberally all
over the ring as Katib held it.
"I knew from the moment I first saw this slave's
nubs," Katib laughed, "that they would take the rings
perfectly. Watch this," and he shoved an open end of
the ring into and through Ballard's tormented left
nipple, his renewed screams cracking the air.
Katib snapped the ring closed and rotated it through
the nipple several times. He then repeated the entire
ringing procedure on the right nipple. When both rings
hung heavily from Ballard's nipples, Kasim again
returned to the work counter, placing the lubricant
and a few other items on his tray before rejoining
Katib.
Ballard was drenched in sweat, his face reddened and
bathed with tears. The unbelievably brutal assault on
his body and his person by these fiends had left his
mind teetering on the edge of sanity. How much more
pain and degradation could he take; his manly,
military self sufficiency had been ripped out of his
psyche by almost four weeks of torture and depravity,
yet for him and Bret, the eternity of hell had barely
started.
Kasim held his tray out and Katib removed a hand held
hole punch from it, bent close in to Ballard's body,
slid the punch over the slave's left earlobe and
squeezed the trigger A white hot spike of pain ripped
through Ballard's head as a shaft of sharpened steel
pierced his earlobe. A second later, the same agony
was wreaked on the right one. Again, heavy gauge steel
rings were inserted into the puncture wounds, rotated
and sterilized.
When the bleeding from Ballard's earlobes and tits had
been reduced to a minimum, the doctor and his two
overseers stepped aside, revealing in front of Bret's
eyes the full horror of Mandrasat's ancient barbaric
manner of gouging out humanity like a depraved demon
would a man's eyes, and in its place, brutally
fashioning a hellish curiosity to adorn a madman's
pleasure halls or torture pits. Ballard's agony had
been passed down through generations of slave masters;
he was but the latest in an endless line of shattered
human beings, still born as slave meat, property for
the perverse amusement of their owners.
Bret's mind refused to accept what his senses were
telling it, and as Katib stepped in front of him with
forceps and piercing tool in hand, Bret slumped
against his restraints and passed out.
"Oh," Katib pouted, "this is the one I wanted to hear
scream. He screams so well." Then turning to Zarak he
said, "Have the Nubians get some buckets of ice water.
I want to have my fun now."