Date: Sat, 17 Mar 2007 07:19:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Revolt, Part Ten

THE SLAVE REVOLT

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Ten

Later on they moved my cage out into the rear
courtyard where all the domestic slaves and those
visiting the house passed through.  They used one of
those small trolleys fitted with a hydraulic jack to
lift the crate up onto the trolley, then a couple of
slaves simply dragged the thing out, and left me there
- it was just as if I was something that was kept in a
warehouse and could be shunted around like that,
rather than a living, breathing man.   One of the
overseers came out from the house shortly afterwards
and fixed a label onto the cage - he sneered as he
told me "It says that you're waiting here to be
gelded, and that other slaves should take note in case
they find themselves in your position."

"Please, sir, I need to piss...."

"So piss!  Who cares?"

I was used to pissing as I worked by now of course, as
that was how all of us drays had to do it in the new
regime.  But at least you left your piss behind you as
you moved on.  Here, though, the pool of piss formed
under the cage and then it rolled out from the sides,
and I knew that everyone passing would know that I had
not got control of my life as I was now reduced to
pissing where I was caged, just as an animal would in
similar circumstances.

It was extremely uncomfortable for me - my body was
very cramped in the tiny cage, and my knees were in
agony from taking my weight.  But there was nothing I
could do about it, and I suppose I was fortunate that
all the work I'd done outside did at least mean that
my body was hardened to the sun, otherwise as it beat
down on me I'd have been in even more trouble.  It
caused me to sweat a lot, of course, but there was no
sign of anyone thinking about this and coming and
giving me a drink:  you'll be amazed how welcome ever
a small sip of water would have been  be in those
circumstances.

I suppose I did kind of doze - I was always extremely
tired, and in spite of being so worried (and scared, I
suppose) about what was going to happen to me, this
enforced idleness did at least give me a chance to
rest.  I "came to" from one of these little periods of
half-sleep to see a nigga bitch standing in front of
my cage, together with the young one I'd studded so
very recently.  I'd studded the older one some months
before, too - I particularly remember it as she was
older than most of the other bitches I was put to, and
in normal circumstances I'd never have fucked a woman
like that.  Now, I could see from the huge swelling in
her belly that it must have been successful, so I kind
of consoled myself that even though  I was about to
lose my balls, I had at least got some progeny passing
on into the world's gene pool!  But then I realised
that the young nigga bore a startling resemblance to
her, and with a shock it occurred to me that I must
have studded both the mother and her daughter.  I
couldn't help wondering if the young one was pregnant,
too - and what relationship would her kid then be to
her mother's?

The mother was speaking now, and I heard her say "Look
at him, my daughter.  This is the man that defiled us
both.  And now see him, caged there, like an animal.
Still, he will not deposit his seed inside any more of
us - today a man will come and will slice off his
testicles."

"Look, it's not my fault....", I called out.  "I
didn't want to fuck you!  They made me!  I'm a slave,
just like you.  And if they want me to fuck you, I
have no choice...."

"Yes you do.  A man does not have to fuck when he
knows it is wrong.  Even a slave has that choice."

"If I didn't fuck you, they would punish me.  They
would whip me..."

"You are always whipped - I can see the scars on your
back...."

"....and if I continued to refuse, they would geld
me."

"You are going to be gelded anyway, so you have gained
nothing.  You have defiled me and my daughter with
your whitey seed...."

"Look, it's not like that!  Even if I refused, and
they gelded me, they'd find another stud:   you're a
slave too, and your owner has decided he wants you to
have pups.  Whether it's me, or some other guy, it's
going to happen."

"But you took the virginity of my daughter...."

"She was going to lose it anyway, as her owner wants
her in pup as well.  If it wasn't me, it would have
been some other stud. We all have no choice:  our
owner directs, and we have to obey.  And at least I
was gentle with her - some men are like animals when
they are rutting, especially if they get a young
virgin.  I realised she had no experience, and I was
as gentle as it is possible to be...."

"You are an animal, like all of them!  Come
daughter......"

I could see there was no persuading her of the justice
of my case, and the two women walked past me.  But
then I almost screamed in agony as my balls were
squeezed painfully hard.  I realised the woman had
stopped at the rear of the cage and her hand had come
through the bars and had grabbed my balls, as they
hung there between my thighs.  I tried to press my
thighs together, but it was too late:  the woman's
forearm was in there, and her fingers were encircling
my sac - she'd pulled my balls down, and was kind of
cinching the top of my sac, holding my balls at the
bottom.

"See, daughter!  These are what this slave is going to
lose.  He will defile no more women like you and me.
Come and see them, and remember that these are the
cause of your shame....", I heard her say.

"No, please!  You're wrong!  It's no shame for you, or
your daughter.... You're slaves, and it's your owner's
fault, not mine...."

My explanation was cut short as I shouted "NO...", at
the top of my voice as her grip tightened on my balls
and she tugged firmly downwards.  I felt like vomiting
- you know how it is when something like that happens
to your balls:  the body knows they're vital, and your
reflexes take over.  The pain from her action
completely flooded out all the others I was
experiencing.

"If there was any justice, daughter, it would be you
and me who is taking these from this animal", the
woman went on.  "We should not have to wait for the
white man to give us justice.  But at least we know
that he will not do this thing again - he will no
longer be able to squirt his seed into women...."

The young girl piped up now "Momma, whilst he is like
this, should we not act?  I could get a knife from the
kitchen, and the deed would be done....  You and me,
we would have our revenge...."

"You are a good girl.  You think clearly.  Yes, it is
a good plan.  I will hold these globes ready, and you
run and fetch the knife which is kept specially for
filleting the fish - but be careful, it is very sharp,
the sharpest in the kitchen, and I do not want you to
cut yourself."

I started to say "Please... please don't... this isn't
the solution... It wasn't my fault...", but she pulled
down sharply on my balls again, and my protests were
cut off as I shouted once more as the agony surged
through me.

"Be silent, animal!  You did not use a woman as a man
should, willingly and with love, because you wanted to
share a child. No, you raped me and my daughter, like
an animal.  And like an animal we are going to deal
with you so that you do not do it again."

I saw the daughter emerging from the rear door of the
mansion then, holding a knife whose long steel blade
glinted in the sunshine.  As she got nearer,  I could
see that it had been lovingly and carefully honed to
be razor thin, and I  suppose it did a good job on
filleting the delicate fish and stuff.  One part of me
said that at least this was going to be relatively
painless - with the emphasis on the "relative", as
presumably all gelding  really hurts.

"No, No", I started to shout.  And then, seeing a
guard, I began to scream at him "Stop these women!
They're mad!  They're bringing that knife to my
balls...."

"Traitor!", the woman screamed at me.  "Traitor!  One
slave telling on another to a guard."

She really pulled at my balls now, and I lost the
ability to tell the guard anything else as my speech
was totally incoherent.  But he glanced at the bitch
holding my balls, and at the young bitch carrying the
knife, and sized up the situation.  In an instant he
had his prod out and stabbed at the young bitch, who
fell to the ground, the knife skittering across the
courtyard as she let it go.  He at once picked it up,
and snapped "We can't have slaves armed like that!
Now, bitch, let go of that slave's balls...."

Actually, although I hated to see the young bitch
writhing around on the ground (and I did, after all,
know something of the agony she was experiencing), it
had had the effect of causing the old nigga to let go
of me anyway - she was rushing over to her daughter,
to comfort her.

The guard came over and looked at me.  "Well, boy, it
looks like  I saved you there.  Or maybe not - I know
the vet's coming to see to you anyway.  And maybe that
woman and her knife might have done an easier job for
you  - she's one of the cooks, and pretty skilled with
a knife.... At least it would have been quick, whereas
maybe the boss is going to have the vet make a
spectacle of you this afternoon, to warn the other
slaves:  perhaps he'll have him pull each of your
balls out, one by one, then stretch the ligament to
the maximum, and then slowly and gently cut through
them, each in turn.....  The last boy they gelded as a
warning to the others took over half an hour - mind
you, that was because they had to keep reviving him,
as he fainted all the time."

Laughing, he walked off, and I knelt there now even
more worried (and sacred) about my fate.

It was early afternoon before they finally came to
release me from the cage - two guards, both with prods
at the ready, as they were obviously expecting me to
make trouble.  Fat chance!  I was too stiff with
cramp, and maddened by thirst, to put up any
resistance.  They marched me into the mansion and down
to the punishment room, and almost without saying a
word, strapped me face down on to the "horse", making
sure my legs were spread as far as possible -
presumably to aid the veterinarian in gaining access
to my balls.  I don't know how long I waited there -
well, who cares how long a slave waits for anything?
And usually a slave enjoys waiting - when you're
waiting, you're not working, and when you're not
working, you're not going to be tawsed!  But this time
was different.  I knew I was going to be gelded, and
frankly, the waiting was terrible:  so often the
anticipation of something is worse than the actual
execution, isn't it?  I knew it was going to hurt,
really hurt, so what was the point in postponing it?

Finally, though, my owner came in accompanied by the
vet - I recognised him from when he'd been called in
to treat other slaves previously.  I'd always thought
of him as quite a considerate guy who tended the
slaves well, but now it seemed to me that he couldn't
be:  I mean, a proper doctor wouldn't geld guys, would
he - isn't there some sort of oath they take to act in
the best interests of the patient?  And how was this
in my best interests?  Funnily enough, as I listened
to my owner and the vet speak, my question got
answered as they'd evidently been discussing "ethics".

"Oh no, sir, I think you're showing a very twentieth
century view of these things", the vet was explaining.
 "Back then the rights of the patient - human and I
suppose slave, although they didn't have them then,
would have been interpreted as meaning that something
like a gelding could not take place unless there was,
for example, cancer of the testicles that needed to be
cut out before it spread.  'The good of the patient'
was paramount - as indeed it still is today!  It's
just that we interpret it a little differently:  I
regard gelding a slave as being  for his own good."

He slapped me on the butt, and went on "In the case of
this brute, I've seen him when he's been working and
he's obviously tough and strong.  But as he's turning
into a renegade, there are serious potential problems
for his future:   as a responsible owner you can
hardly have a strong potential rebel at large, can
you? So probably the only long term solution for this
slave is death:  kill him off, before he causes any
more problems.  Unless, that is, you have him
gelded.... So, you see, gelding him is indeed in his
own best interests, so there's no difficulty ethically
in performing the operation."

He came up to my head and thrust a gag at me.
"NO...", I managed to say, and calling out to my
owner, started with "Please, sir, please, I've done
nothing...."

The vet twisted my ear savagely, that caused me to
open my mouth fully, and the next moment the gag was
in and my pleas were stifled.

"There - that's a little trick they teach you at
veterinarian's college to get slaves to open their
mouths! It saves a lot of distress to gag them", he
told my owner.  "Even if we use anaesthetic, they
always beg and plead to be allowed to remain men.  It
can be distressing for the owner sometimes, so I
routinely gag them.  Are you going to have him
anaesthetised, by the way?  I generally advise against
it, as the pain serves to remind them of the power you
hold over them should they still be inclined to
disobey you, even after the operation."

"Well, if you think that's best....", my owner
muttered.

The vet now moved behind me, and  I could fell his
hands massaging my balls, and pulling and squeezing
them down to the bottom of my sac.  "This was a
display slave, I think?", he queried my owner.  "I
seem to remember an excellent dinner here one evening
when you had him perform for us....  There is an
option, you know, to slit the sac, take out the balls,
and replace them with prostheses:  he can look much
the same afterwards if the sac is re-sewn carefully.
Or, of course, you can have larger, steel balls put
in, which will make him hang even lower and look even
more heroic.... I have some out in my carriage."

"No.  He's no longer a display slave.  His excursion
with the rebels left his body scarred and not in
perfect condition.  If a man is going to have a
display slave to delight his guests, I think he has to
be perfect."

"Well, then, sir, do you want the testicles removed
and the sac re-sewn?  Or do you want everything to go,
so that from the underside of the penis to the anus is
basically smooth?"

"What do you suggest, doctor?"

"It matters little.  But perhaps aesthetically, a
complete removal is best.  And, of course, whilst I'm
here, I wondered if you'd considered a full or partial
penectomy?  If you want to use him as an example to
other slaves, a penectomy can be spectacularly
successful.... Total removal, leaving a small slit for
him to urinate from, shows an owner's power to the
other slaves, I  think.  On the other hand, simply
slicing off the head can be very effective, too:  even
with the testicles removed, a slave can get some
pleasure from stimulating his penis, and without the
head, this is dramatically reduced."

My owner looked at me -  sadly, perhaps?  "No, leave
his penis.  Removing his manhood will be sufficient
punishment for Steve here."

I tried to shout, tried to thrash my body around in a
last desperate effort to make my point, but it was
impossible to make myself understood.  I mean, here
they were, discussing my gelding and even the
potential removal of my dick, and I was utterly and
totally powerless to do anything about it.  If a
demonstration was needed of one man's power over
another, this was surely it.

My efforts were useless, though, and my testicles went
icy cold, as the vet commented "Just some antiseptic,
no anaesthetic - we don't want infection, do we?"
Then I felt his fingers again, kneading and stretching
my sac, pulling my balls down.  "I need to get a nice
long 'neck', he told my owner, "So that when I incise
above it, the remainder can be sewn back neatly to the
body as you want him smooth.  Now.... Let me get a
scalpel..."

So this was it, then, I thought.  Any moment now, and
I'd no longer be a man.  I braced myself for the
inevitable, but just as the scalpel was about to
strike, the door opened and the vet stayed his hand.

"Dad", a familiar voice said.  "I've been looking
everywhere for you and for some reason the house
slaves didn't want to tell me you're down here in the
punishment room."

"Perhaps it's as well you came down, Rob - as you'll
be a slave owner yourself one day, you need to see
some of the less pleasant aspects of it.  Sometimes an
owner has to be tough, really tough, to protect our
way of life, and this is one of those occasions.  I'm
having this slave gelded, as nothing else has
succeeded in making him back into a loyal, trustworthy
slave.  It's regrettable, I know, as he used to be a
real pleasure to us all, and even now he's a useful
stud.  But, needs must....."

Rob came and looked at me, and I think suddenly
recognised my tattered face, in spite of the gag.
"But dad, this is Steve...."

"Quite so!  He used to be my trainer, and was a good
and trustworthy slave, until all this revolt.  But
now...."

"Dad, no, you can't geld Steve..."

"Yes, Rob.  It's a tough decision to make, I know,
especially when it involves a slave who has been more
to us than a mere coffled field worker.  But it's in
his own best interests - if we don't 'calm' him, he'll
end up crucified - and  I wouldn't want that for any
slave.  You must have seen some of those during your
own escape, and although I understand the reasons for
killing them that way, I find it rather distasteful."

"But dad, please, no... Not Steve...."

"It's absolutely necessary, Rob.  After your exploits
escaping from the rebels I thought you were toughening
up - don't say you're slipping back and becoming one
of those liberal wimps who want to treat slaves as if
they were free men...."

"No, dad.... But Steve.... Please, dad, don't do it."

I lay there, my spirits alternately soaring and
plummeting.  Why the fuck didn't Rob just tell his dad
about how I'd saved him?  Surely then all this stuff
would be over, and with the scalpel hovering over my
balls, time was short!

"Rob, stay out of this...."

"Dad, no!  You promised Steve to me, when  I was
seventeen.  And I'm seventeen now, dad, and I want
him."

"Oh don't be so stupid, Rob.  I may have said you
could have Steve, but that was back then, before the
revolt.  Things are different now.  And you're
different, too -  I was going to give Steve to you in
the hope that he would help you become tougher, more
mature.  But now I've heard about the way you
outwitted those rebels, and lived on your wits until
you got back to the safety of our troops, we don't
need that, do we?  You're mature enough."

"Dad, a promise is a promise!  You promised Steve to
me, and I want him.  And you're right - I am different
after escaping g from the rebels, but I still need a
slave...."

"But not this one, Rob!  You can have your pick of the
others.  Two or three, if you like  This one is too
rebellious."

"So I'll tame him, dad.  Give him to me, as you
promised, and I'll show you how to treat a slave -
I'll tame him, even if you can't."

"Nonsense, Rob!  You're still a boy..."

"There you go, dad!  You want me to be mature, and
tough, and hard, and at every chance you get, put me
down:  I'm not a boy, dad, I'm a man, a real man.  I'm
seventeen, remember?  You still treat me as if I'm
only ten sometimes!  I can take car of myself, dad -
you've had proof of that.  And if I can do that, for
all that time, then I can surely manage a slave like
this one."

"Rob, I'm sorry.  Yes, I do underestimate you, I know.
 Look, I'll give you this slave, if you insist, but
first he must be gelded - he's much too spirited, even
for a young man of your undoubted talents."

"No, dad!  I want a whole slave, one who  I can tame
properly.  You'd always be telling me that I had it
easy, if you have him gelded."

My spirits soared as my owner sighed, and said "I
suppose you're right.  But I will insist  on you
telling me every week how you're getting on.  And
there is of course no question of you taking him to
college - here on the estate we do at least have
guards and overseers who can be called in if he shows
the slightest sign of trouble.  He must remain here
and not accompany you."

"Fair enough.  And, dad, you won't be disappointed:
Steve always used to be a good slave, and he will be
again, you mark my words."

"Rob, I think you should start as you mean to go on,
then...."

"Sure, dad."

"Well then, the traditional thing an owner does when
he acquires a new slave...."

"He's already got our brand on him, dad."

"No, I mean taking his cherry - well,  not exactly
that, of course, as I did that when he was first
brought here, newly enslaved.  But I think it would be
 kind of 'right of passage', if that isn't a terrible
pun, for you to mark your new status as a slave owner
in your own right to actually fuck Steve.  And he
never liked taking dick, so it will set his mind along
the right tracks, to know that you will not hesitate
to fuck him..."

Look, although I was pleased that I'd been spared the
scalpel, I really didn't want to be fucked by Rob!
For one thing, I hated taking dick.  And for another -
well, it's not right, is it?  I'd treated Rob almost
as if he was my kid brother, looking after him.... And
he was only seventeen - a guy like me doesn't want a
seventeen year old kid fucking him!

"OK, dad - I will fuck him, I promise.  But not here."

"Why ever not?  He's secured, and can't hurt you..."

"It's not that, dad - but the vet's here...."

"I'm sorry", my owner said to the vet.  "You've had a
bit of a wasted journey.  Please don't hesitate to
bill he estate for your time this afternoon."

"No problem, sir  - I don't really enjoy gelding
slaves.  It's necessary, I know, but it seems such a
shame to waste the essence of a man..."

I could hear him snapping his case shut as he said
this, then there were some polite farewells, and my
owner said "Now then, Rob, down to business - there's
only you and me..."

"Dad, you can't expect me to fuck a slave in front of
you...."

"Why ever not?  I certainly wouldn't expect you to
expose your wife or fiancee to my view, but this is a
slave!  There's no harm in a man fucking a slave in
front of his friends, or his family....  When your
mother was alive I never hesitated about taking he
cherries of the new slaves in front of her - indeed
she used to be quite proud of me, seeing me in action
like that."

"But that was mom, dad!  I'm your son...."

"Rob, you are indeed my son!   I've seen you naked
hundreds of times.  Not only when you were a kid, but
when we use the gym together in the shower afterwards.
Now get on with it."

"Dad, there's a bit of difference between seeing me in
the showers, and seeing me fucking a guy... Seeing me
fucking anyone, for that matter.  Or even seeing me
having an erection - guys don't do that in front of
their fathers."

"Well, Rob, I'm afraid you are going to have to - if
you want me to gift you this slave, that is.  You need
to learn that a man needs to exert proper control over
his slaves, and one of the best ways of doing that is
to show them that they are there to be used sexually
by you.  A slave owner never has anything to fear by
dropping his pants and fucking his slaves - whether
male or female.... Although I would advise you to be
careful in fucking females, as if they get pregnant,
they then think they have some sort of 'special
rights' because their pup might have a free father:
not that it matters, as one slave parent means that
the pup is a slave.  Indeed ,when I take the cherries
of new females, I always wear a condom, and take the
precaution of having one or more slaves fuck her
immediately afterwards, too, so there will always be a
doubt about the paternity.  That's why Steve is such a
useful slave to have around - in the past, I have had
him stud a female the day after I have 'welcomed' her
to our little estate here:  if there is  a pup it is
then automatically paler than the dam. I mean, if I
got them fucked by some of the big nigga bucks, and
the pup was pale, it would kind of point to me as the
father, wouldn't it?  But with Steve, there's no
problem like that."

"Dad, I don't see what this has got to do with it -
I've never watched you fucking any of the slaves, so I
don't see why you want to watch me...."

"Son, I've never stopped you coming to see me
'welcoming' the new slaves.  It's a duty, I know, but
it has to be done if we are to maintain proper
traditions.  And I'm not ashamed at other men seeing
me doing it in any way - when your uncles are
visiting, indeed, we often do it together as it's more
fun than watching a movie in the evenings.  And if you
wish, the next time a batch of new slaves arrives,
I'll hold off from this little ceremony until you are
around.  But that's all beside the point - why
wouldn't I want to watch you?  You're a handsome young
man, and I'm proud of you, and I'd like to see how you
go about it."

"But dad...."

"No, Rob.   No excuses!  The only time I've ever
passed on an opportunity to see one of these occasions
is with old Mr Svensen next door - he's so old, and so
grossly overweight, that I simply can't stomach the
sight of those great slabs of fat of his pounding up
and down over the slave. I've got no worries on that
score, of course, as I keep in shape - and neither
have you!  You're a real chip off the old block, and
you're shaping up nicely:  I only thought the other
day when I saw you in the pool that if things were
different you'd make a fine slave yourself:  your body
is ripening to perfection."

"I haven't got a condom, dad..."

"Excuses, Rob!  Steve's a male, not a female!  He's
not going to get pregnant!  One of the minor pleasures
of life is feeling your raw dick in totally intimate
contact with the warmth of a good slave ass -
personally, I've never used a condom on a male.  Now,
are you going to do it, or shall I call the vet back,
have Steve gelded, and proceed with the original
plan?"

Oh no - for Christ sake, get on with it, I willed.  I
didn't want to be fucked by the kid,  but that was
infinitely preferable to being gelded.  Couldn't the
idiot see that?  I didn't want to be gelded just
because he was for some reason ashamed of stripping
off in front of his dad.  And, after all, I knew from
experience that he had nothing to be ashamed of - as
his dad had already pointed out, he had a good body;
and is dick was, if anything, above average (although
perhaps all seventeen year olds' dicks look big as
they're mostly fully grown, whereas their bodies still
have some muscle and perhaps even an inch or so of
height still to grow).  I lay there, motionless now,
as I didn't want any struggling or attempted shouting
to distract the two men in their argument.  I'm not
one given to praying (I've always thought the concept
of a big juju in the sky is totally absurd), but I
could see why people did it at this moment - if I had
believed in that rubbish, I'd have been praying for
Rob to get his dick out!

"Come on, Rob, I haven't got all day...." His father
said, now sounding rather impatient.  "I was beginning
to think that you'd matured, and had lost some of your
timidness after your outwitting of the rebels.  I'm
starting to doubt it, though, if you can't do this
simple thing.... Most sons would really enjoy the
prospect of fucking a slave, especially one who,
although he's no longer in peak condition, has such a
totally fuckable ass as Steve here...."

Rob still stood there hesitating, and then to my
immense relief, he reached down and began to unbuckle
the belt on his neatly-cut formal pants.  It took him
a long time, standing there in his boxers, to neatly
fold the pants, as if he was hoping that by prolonging
the act some other thing might intrude to save him.
Then he looked again at his father, who nodded
impatiently at him, and with an almost despairing
shrug he slipped his boxers down and stood there
uncertainly for a moment.

I was beginning to breathe more easily now as it
looked as if I was going to be saved - although as Rob
began to stroke his dick into an erection, new doubts
began:  he was indeed, as I'd noticed, well hung, and
the prospect of the monster forcing itself up my ass
was not one I was looking forward to.

He came and stood behind me, watched by his father,
and he pressed his hands on my butt and prised it
apart.  Then I couldn't help shuffling my feet when
the sensation of having his dick running up and down
my crack started - look, I don't like taking it up the
ass, but sometimes when you're in really intense
foreplay with another guy you let him do something
like that, don't you, as the feeling of a dick head
against your tender skin down there is kind of
exciting.

"He's not lubed, dad...."

"Of course not, Rob!  He was going to be gelded,
remember?  And around here we don't fuck eunuchs:
some perverted owners have slaves gelded as they enjoy
the sensation of fucking a eunuch, but personally I
prefer the ass of a real virile man, who would be
capable of fucking me in return, if he was ever
allowed to:  Steve here would certainly do that, I
know, in order to 'prove' that he was still in
control."

Too damned right  I would!  He'd only fucked me the
once, when I first arrived, but if he'd ever tried it
again I certainly would have retaliated, in spite of
the consequences - I don't think I could have helped
it.  And when two of you are naked in bed, there's
little a guy like him could have done to stop a
bigger, stronger one like me.

Rob was still stroking my ass rather seductively, and
his father seemed to be getting very impatient.
"Jesus, Rob, get on with it!  I have to call New York.
 He's not lubed, but that doesn't matter - you need to
use a bit more force, that's all, to get the head in,
but once you're through, you can fuck pretty
naturally.  He'll really feel it, but it's quite good
for you, actually... Come on, boy - try it, and
see...."

I felt Rob's hairy thighs pressing against mine and
his dick pushing at my ass.  I tried to relax, tried
to do that thing they say you should do and pretend
you're crapping, to make your sphincter relax, but
either they're lying, or I'm not very good at fooling
myself:  it took him a huge effort to batter his way
through, and I was bucking and shouting as he did so
(well, as much as I could) not only because it was
hurting like hell, but because I don't naturally take
dick from another man - and especially not from a
seventeen year old.

Once he was in, though, Rob seemed to take to it
naturally!  He slammed his dick home - another muffled
scream from me - and then began to pound me
vigorously, and I mean vigorously, with that
exuberance that only a muscled teenager can.  He was
slamming in and out of me and I could hear the
rhythmic slap, slap, slap of his body and balls
against my skin as he gave me an epic fucking.  To say
it was uncomfortable was a total understatement:  it
hurt, and I mean hurt!  I know I ought to be used to
pain, given everything I'd experienced recently, but
some pains are different, aren't they?  And I suppose
you never get used to the hurt as another man fucks
your ass totally against your will.

Another characteristic of very young guys, though, is
that their sheer eagerness to fuck means that it's not
very sustained:  the excitement, and the fact that
they're at their most fertile at that age and their
balls are desperate to empty, means that it doesn't
take them long to shoot - I'd noticed that if Rob and
I were both jacking off as we huddled together for
warmth it always took me much, much longer than him to
shoot.  Well, that was in my favour now, as it seemed
like only seconds before he gave a great shout of
"Jesus fucking Christ......" And slammed into me one
last time, before collapsing forward onto me.

His father came over and slapped him kind of
affectionately on the butt.  "Well done, son!  But
pull out now, as I really have to get on with things
and that call to New York won't wait...."

He put his arm around Rob's shoulder and guided him
over towards a sink in the corner, telling Rob that he
needed to wash his dick carefully as I hadn't really
been perfectly cleaned out:  "...and if you're going
to fuck him regularly, you need to train him to use
the enema fixture on the shower", he added.

We both watched as Rob then dressed, and his father
seemed really pleased.  "You know, Rob, I was
beginning to doubt some of those stories you told
about defying and defeating the rebels, but I can see
that you are indeed a real man - there's not a lot of
seventeen year olds who could fuck a tight-assed slave
like Steve as well as that.  You know, son, it's kind
of a 'right of passage' - when you fuck your first
slave, you've really come of age:  forget all that
stuff about sixteen, eighteen, or twenty one as the
'age of majority' - I reckon the first time a man
fucks a slave against the slave's will is the point at
which he's really ready to take on the world."

With that, my (former?) owner strode out of the room,
leaving Rob and me there.  He looked down at me, and
gave a shrug.  Now what the fuck did he mean by that?

End Of Part Ten