Date: Sun, 6 May 2007 23:51:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Revolt, Part Fourteen

THE SLAVE REVOLT

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part  Fourteen


I suppose all of you are used to the conventional
"horse" that can be used for holding a guy relatively
immobile whilst he's fucked, or beaten with a cane or
whip.  The problem is, as my owner had pointed out,
that even with his legs spread wide apart when
shackled to the horse, the hole of a big-butted slave
is not all that accessible.  I wondered what the fuck
this "new apparatus" was going to be like, but of
course knew that slave owners and the plethora of
special businesses that were in existence to service
their every need, were endlessly inventive, and no
doubt some of the finest mechanical inventiveness of
the age would have gone into whatever my owner was
about to use,

It was rather a disappointment then when what appeared
looked a bit like a table, with a steel top that was
polished to a mirror-like finish  There seemed to be a
number of wheels and screws that could raise and lower
it, and straps on the surface clearly designed to hold
a slave down.  My owner snapped at me to go and kneel
on the table, which I did (although it's really
difficult to climb onto a table when you can't use
your hands).  Then as I knelt there one of the
domestic slaves fastened straps around my ankles, and
others just behind my knees, to hold me there.    I
was then commanded to lean right forward so that my
forehead was touching the steel surface, and as I did
so, the slave fastened my collar to a further strap at
the front, effectively holding my head down.

"Right, Steve", my owner said, his hand caressing my
butt as I knelt there helplessly.  "Now let's really
open you up wide, and get you at the right height for
me....."

He began to turn some o the adjusting wheels, and as
he did so I felt my legs moving apart - the rear of
the table split down the centre, and as my owner
continued to turn the handles, my legs went further
and further apart.  It soon got quite painful as the
distance between them increased, and there was the new
twist:  a strap from the table was cinched over me at
waist level, and then my owner heaved on it, forcing
my belly down onto the table top and further
increasing the discomfort in my splayed legs.  I
resisted - I've got strong belly and back muscles, as
you know, and however hard my owner tugged at the
strap, he couldn't force my belly lower.

"So, Steve defiant as ever, are you?", he said with a
determined tone in his voice.  "Well, let's see how
you like this....."

I heard that characteristic "swish" sound in the air
and the next instant my butt exploded into pain as the
thin, springy punishment cane, wielded with
considerable strength by my owner, struck me.   I was
so surprised that I lost my grip on my muscles and my
owner triumphantly pulled on the strap around my
waist, and hauled me lower.

"Another one, Steve, or are you going to co-operate?",
he asked me, that same note of determination in his
voice.

Well, what could I do?  I a already helpless, and he
could carry on beating me as much as he wanted until I
eventually gave in.  What was the point of putting
myself through all that additional pain?  I relaxed my
body, and allowed my belly to sag more, so that my ass
was forced even higher, and with an evil laugh my
owner cinched the waist strap tight, holding me there.

He didn't spread my legs all that much more -
fortunately, as I felt I was already being ripped
apart - but as a final adjustment he went to my feet
and turned them outwards, the pressure on my legs the
making my ass even more painful, tightening the ankle
straps to hold them like that.  More adjustment, but
this time to the wheels regulating the total height of
the thing, and he seemed satisfied.

"There, Steve!".  They call it "Fucking The Frog", as
with your ass high up like that, and your legs spread
so very, very wide and your feet twisted to put all
your leg muscles in tension, you do look a bit like a
frog, I suppose."

He laughed a little, but now stood between my splayed
legs and stroked my ass again.  "But you see, Steve,
the real beauty of this apparatus is that even for a
man with big, strong butt muscles, like you, in this
position they are so far apart that your hole is much
more easily accessible.... See?"  As he said this he
stopped stroking my butt and pushed at my asshole
cruelly with one finger.

"See, Steve?  Here it is, nicely exposed for me and
just waiting to be used, as a slave should be.
Nothing to protect it - all totally vulnerable and
available.  You can't even clench your butt to try and
keep me out, can you?"

I tried to shout at him in protest, to tell him he had
no right to treat me this way, but no intelligible
words came out.  And, anyway, what would have been the
use, even if they had?  As far as he was concerned,  I
was a slave.  He owned me   He could do what he liked
with my body.  And if he wanted to tie me down so  I
was helpless and then rape me, that's what he knew he
could do.

He went and sat on a couch to pull off his shoes, then
stood up and let his pants and boxers drop to the
floor.  I could see his erect dick jutting out in
front of him, pushing the tails of his pale blue
cotton shirt aside as it strained upwards.  He stood
there for a moment, stroking himself casually with
that air of easy assurance that men have when they
know they are totally in control of a situation, and
his cock twitched as if in anticipation of what was to
come.

"This time it's a punishment, Steve", he said calmly
and quietly.  "The first time I fucked you it was
routine, something an owner has to do to a new slave.
You were all slicked up, and I barely went in to you,
and then just did a couple of symbolic strokes to
inform you that I now owned and controlled you.  But
this time I'm punishing you - punishing you for
betraying my trust for all that time, pretending to be
a good, obedient slave whilst all the time harbouring
thoughts of rebellion and escape.  I know that
whipping you would not be punishment enough - even if
we went as far as the bull whip it would not do any
good:  a man like you who believes he's tough, and can
'take it' can simply endure the pain as we tear his
flesh to pieces, and all I would end up with is
permanently damaged goods.  So, Steve, instead I'm
going to fuck you, and fuck you hard, very hard.  A
lot of supposedly tough men can't bear the thought of
having another man up their ass, and that feeling of
shame and degradation will contribute to your
punishment;  and whilst we all know that some small
amount of pain adds to the excitement of proper man on
man sex, this is going to be quite different, Steve:
there's no pre-stretching of you, no lubrication, no
preparation of any kind.  I'm simply going to position
my cock at your hole, and push in with a single
movement:  right in, so that you will feel my pubic
hair scratching at you immediately.   And then,
without stopping, I'm going to fuck you with long,
fast strokes - you'll feel me slamming into you
repeatedly, and each time you'll want to scream with
the pain and discomfort of it all."

He stopped for a moment and looked down at me, and
went on, calmer now "I think the pain you will
experience will do more for you than any whipping
could.  I may - no, I will - use you for sex again
after this, and each time I do, you will remember that
I have the power to inflict a terrible, terrible hurt
on you.  As you lie under me, you'll always be
worrying that my lovemaking might turn hard and rough,
and you'll remember how this feels, and cringe and
hope that I am going to be merciful.  Instead of
disliking being used for sex, you will lie there and
fervently hope that I will be gentle, and afterwards,
if I have been, you will be properly and truly
grateful that I have been a kind and considerate
owner."

He stopped speaking then, and I carried on protesting
as best I could - although the gag prevented me saying
anything.  It was so unfair - if only I could explain
to him what had really happened, he could see that I
was no rebel:  far from it - if I hadn't fought the
rebels, his precious son wouldn't still be with him.
But it was no use - there  I was, utterly helpless and
totally in his power, unable even to explain.  He
moved between my cruelly spread legs, and I felt the
heat of his body as it brushed the tender flesh on the
inside of my thighs.


"Now, Steve, feel this....", he said, and the tip of
his dick was pressed to my hole as I lay there.  I
could feel its warmth as it scraped over my pucker,
with absolutely no lubricant, not even a drop of spit,
to ease it.

"Get ready.....", he said cruelly, and the next moment
the most terrible pain shot through me as he rammed
his dick home in a single smooth stroke, right deep
into me.  I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream, I
wanted to cry and sob and give vent to the terrible
hurt I experienced, but it was no good - all that  I
could do was splutter and stutter into my gag.  And
then he began to fuck me - no nice gentle strokes as a
lover might do, but huge, pull right out and slam
right home kind of strokes, each one causing a new
wave of pain to spread through me.  My whole being
became centred on my ass - I could think of nothing
other than the awful hurt that was consuming me,
spreading from that centre of my being to totally
consume my every thought.

On and on it went, and I was no longer capable of
sensible thought.  All I could do was lie there and
pray that this terrible, terrible process would soon
finish.

Look, I know that when you're fucking a guy it can go
on and on.  You can prolong the pleasure by slowing
your strokes, pausing a little, playing with the body
of he guy you're with, and generally enjoying each
other.  But when you're just doing a hard, brutal fuck
like that, it doesn't go on for all that long.  It may
seem to be ages as the cock of the guy ravages you,
but in practice I suppose it was all over in four or
five minutes.  My owner suddenly gave a great cry of
"Jesus Christ!", thrust himself deep into me one more
time, and then fell forward on to me as I lay there
helpless.

I could feel his heart beating from his exertions as
he lay on top of me, and he rested for a couple of
minutes before he pulled out.  I lay there almost
whimpering as he strode across the room and into the
small bathroom opening off it, and I heard water
running as he presumably washed his dick.    He came
back then and stood once more by my head, his soft
dick now barely visible under his shirt tail.

"So, Steve - this is what happens to rebellious
slaves!  They get used.  They are punished by their
owners.  But you are in fact a good fuck, I think -
that ass of yours is almost designed to truly delight
a man.  You used to be my trainer and I enjoyed
working out with you, but I suspect that I am going to
enjoy you even more in your new role:  when  I have a
few friends around to dine, I think I'll "'frog' you
like this and let them use you.  Or perhaps I'll have
you like this in my bedroom, every night....."

As he was speaking the door opened and Rob came in.  I
saw the startled look in his eyes as he took in the
scene of me lying there spread out as I was, and his
father half naked by me.

"Dad, what's going on?", Rob finally stuttered.

"I've just been using Steve, son.  Or, rather, I've
been punishing him. I thought he needed to learn a
lesson about how a slave can be used - he's had it too
easy in the past."

I saw Rob's eyes darting around, taking in his
father's cum that was now oozing from my ass, and
seeing his father's state of undress.

"Dad!  Steve's my slave.  You gave him to me. You have
no right...."

"Silence, you insolent young puppy!  I gave him to
you, but I have not yet transferred the title
formally, so in law he is still mine.  But, in any
event, you would surely not object to me enjoying him,
would you?  A father and son should share things like
that.  You've told me often enough that he is a good
fuck - so where's the harm in me trying him out?  A
slave is, after all, there to be used...."

"But dad... I didn't want Steve fucked...."

"You told me, Rob, that you fucked him yourself,
frequently, so I cannot see the harm..."

"Why's Steve looking like that, dad?  He looks as if
he's been crying.... And those straps - they're
cutting into his flesh...."

"Oh, it's only superficial injuries - the straps may
have cut him a little, and there'll be some bruising,
I expect, but it will all clear up in a week or so.
He thrashed around a lot as I used him."

As he said this, my owner came over and thrust a
finger up my ass, causing me to wince and squirm
again.  He pulled his finger out and held it up to
Rob.  "See, he's not injured where it matters - no
bleeding or anything down there.... All the fuss he
was making you'd have thought he was seriously and
permanently inured...."

"Dad, you fucked him so hard that there might have
been....?"

"As I said, son, he needs punishment.  I am concerned
that you are taking on a wild, unruly slave.  He needs
to be 'tamed' properly, taught that his only function
is to serve you and me.  So I determined to fuck him
roughly, very roughly, as that's a very good way of
opening up a slave's mind to the fact that he is a
mere object for his owner's satisfaction...."

Rob continued to stare in horror, and his father went
on "Indeed, I think it would now be appropriate for
you to repeat the exercise -  why don't you slip off
those shorts and fuck Steve now?  It won't be as
satisfactory a lesson for him, of course, as now he is
somewhat stretched already, and of course my semen
will act as a lubricant.... But, nevertheless it will
remind him that you can dominate him and control him
whenever you choose...."

"No, dad."

"Rob, I asked you nicely.  In matters relating to the
discipline of slaves you are still young and a little
innocent.  I know you told me all those stories of
defeating the rebels, but in matters of handling the
domestics you seem curiously naive.

"So come now, do as  I say and slip those shorts off,
and I'll adjust the table so that he's at a more
convenient height for you - this new apparatus opens
him right up, as you can see - take a close look, as I
doubt that his hole has ever been quite so visible to
you..."

"No, dad!  It's not right!  It's not right to use a
man like that, against his will..."

"Of course it's not right to use a man like this, but
Steve is not a man - he's a slave, a man-beast, if you
will recall.  And a slave has no rights - a man can
use his slave, his property, in whatever way he wants
to.  Now, do as I say..."

"NO, dad!  I'm not going to fuck Steve - rape him,
even.  It's not right.... I don't believe in it...."

"Don't believe in fucking?  Come now, Rob, don't be
stupid.  All young men of your age like sex.  And I
spoke to one of the domestics this morning, and she
was telling me that there is clear evidence that there
has been sex in your bed, lots of it..."

"Dad - you've been spying on me!"

"Oh don't be silly, Rob!  It's hardly 'spying' as you
call it, to make conversation with some of the
domestic slaves.  It makes them feel more valued, to
know that their owner takes an interest.  And so they
work harder....  So I know that you have been having
sex with Steve, and that's perfectly right and proper,
as a young man should learn to enjoy slaves from an
early age."

"But I don't fuck him, dad!  And I wouldn't, well, not
against his will."

"Not fuck him?  All the semen....  And what's this
nonsense about 'against his will'?  A slave has no
right to a will of his own."

Rob was blushing now, but seemed on the verge of
panic.  "Dad, we...... We kind of play
together......."

"No, I do not know, Rob!  Using a slave for sex is one
thing, something that all healthy men might do.  But
'playing' with a slave, by which I take it to mean
'playing sexually' - well, that borders on
perversion!!   There's nothing wrong with a man
choosing to fuck his slave, male or female, but it
should be clearly understood that the slave is there
to be used, a receptacle for his owner's cock and his
semen.    But 'playing' with a slave, using him in a
way that causes him pleasure as well as you, that's
not on - you'll be telling me next that you actually
enjoy sex with men...."

Rob stopped suddenly and said quietly "Dad, I like
men.  I really like them, dad.  And there's...."

 I saw my owner's face drop in astonishment.  But now
he'd started, Rob seem determined to continue.  He
went on   "And, dad, I need to tell you something....
Something about all that time I was trapped down here,
during the revolt...."

Seeing his father was silent, he continued "It was
Steve that saved me, dad!  He's not a rebel.... He
was, and is,  a good and trusted friend.  And if he
hadn't saved me, the rebels would have crucified me.
He  saved my life, dad, several times".  Now Rob
lowered his voice and almost whispered "But as it was
dad, I was raped!  Just as you raped Steve a few
minutes ago.  That's what happened to me during the
slave revolt, dad...."

"...which shows you how careful we need to be to keep
slaves under control..."

"It wasn't the slaves, dad!  It was our own soldiers!
The boys in grey!  They raped me.  And it's terrible,
I can tell you, being used like that, totally
powerless, totally unable to prevent yourself being
defiled....."


"You lied to me, Rob!"

"I had to, dad, I was so ashamed...."

As I knelt there, vilely uncomfortable still and with
my ass hurting like it had never hurt before, I saw
Rob's lip trembling as if he was about to burst into
tears.  And then my owner threw his arms open, Rob
rushed at him, and father and son stood there locked
in an embrace that seemed to indicate all was well.
They left then, though, arm in arm, leaving me there,
as if  they had simply forgotten me - perhaps that's
how they viewed slaves, just things you could leave
behind you as you left a room, as you might leave an
ornament.!  I felt pretty miserable, I can tell you -
there was the sheer physical discomfort of being on my
knees, by legs spread out so unnaturally like that,
and now the straps that were holding me down were
really hurting - as I'd thrashed around under the
brutal assault of my owner they had indeed cut in to
me and bruised me, and now I was beginning to feel the
effects of this.

I don't know how long I stayed therefore, but
eventually two guards came in, accompanied by two
household slaves, and I heard the order to "Free him,
and take him and get him cleaned up."

I thought that at last my salvation had come, but the
moment I was released from the straps holding me, and
was beginning to rub some life back into m limbs, the
guards slipped proper cuffs on me, holding my hands
behind my back.  They made no attempt to loosen or
remove my gag.

"This one's a rebel",   one guard told the other, "And
we'd better take precautions.  Even though he looks as
if he's had a good seeing to by the boss, you never
can tell.  Once a rebel, always a rebel, that's what I
think.  Personally I can't understand why the boss
bothers with him at all - if he were mine, he'd be
down to the vets and the gelding shears would be out,
I can tell you."

"Aw, come on!   I can see why the boss wants to keep
him whole - look at his magnificent body, look at
those testicles... Can you imagine playing with them,
as you fuck him?"

"Well I don't suppose we'll ever get the chance to use
a prime piece of flesh like this...."

"Oh, I don't know - I reckon that if the boss  gets
tired of him he might turn him over to the staff.....
We usually only get to play with the bitches at the
moment, I know, but every now and then they give us a
nice tight ass to fuck - and if we were to ask....
Well, he'd be wasted in the fields, coffled with the
niggas, wouldn't he?  I mean, look at this rump......"

As he said this, the guard slapped my butt
appreciatively, and I felt my anger rising that he was
treating me just as if I was some sort of sex object,
with no feelings of my own.  I moved away in anger,
and  he, seeing the furious expression on my face,
reached out, grabbed my dick and balls, and hauled me
back towards him.  I squirmed as he did this, but as
he squeezed my balls and that awful sensation you get
when your testicles are under threat went through me,
I steadied myself and stood there meekly.

"Listen, boy!", the guard snapped.  "Behave!  My buddy
and I know how to deal with unruly slaves.  Would you
like me to yank these balls of yours down towards your
knees?  I've had many a slave writhing on the floor
when he's dared to even think of misbehaving. "

He turned to his companion and went on "You should
come and get some of this - his dick's magnificent -
look, he's starting to go hard, so I reckon he likes a
guy fondling him....."

Well I didn't like it at all.  I hated it.  But you
can't control your body sometimes, can you?  If a guy
has you by the balls and is stroking your dick,
something's going to happen, whether you like it or
not.

"Hey, stop playing with him!  You know the boss's
orders - get him cleaned up ... I reckon there's
something special planned for him.... I think I saw
the whipping frame being prepared, and it's always
good to see a slave thrashing around as the lash cuts
into him...."

"Why would they be cleaning him up, if he's going to
be whipped?"

"Oh come on!   Most slaves let their bowels go when
the whip hits, and it's pretty unpleasant for the
spectators to see all that stuff trickling down their
thighs... And the smell...  No, I reckon he's going to
get a good cleaning out inside, so that when the whip
kisses him, there won't be any unseemly consequences."

I stood there in impotent fury listening to this.
Surely it couldn't be true - why would I get a
whipping now?   But they seemed so sure of themselves,
and there was no way  I could protest - any physical
activity and they'd torture my balls.  And I still had
the fucking gag in ,so there was nothing I could say.

All  I could do therefore was to acquiesce as they led
me out and down to the slave quarters (the guard
seeming to get a particular pleasure in leading me by
my now-solid dick, adding to my discomfort and
humiliation by scraping his thumb roughly over my piss
slit as he did so).

They washed me - thoroughly, all over, and even the
other slaves seemed to know that "something was going
on" as they too dared to play with my balls and fiddle
with my dick.  And, yes, they did  clean me out
inside, too - I had to stand there, bent over, as they
pushed the enema tube up my aching ass so they could
fill me and flush me out four times.

I stood around for quite a long time then, wrists
still cuffed behind me, and feeling really depressed.
I had thought that as soon as Rob had told his father
about what had really gone on rescue would be assured.
 But now.... all this talk of whipping, and being
prepared for it....

Guards came eventually, though, and led me back into
the main part of the house (leaving my dick alone this
time, thank God, and positioned me outside the big
double doors to the main drawing room - I'd never been
in there before, only seen it as I had occasionally
gone with my owner through the house when we were out
on a training session.  The guard knocked, heard a
voice from inside, and led me in.

Rob and his father were standing in front of the big
fire place (filled with flowers, as it was summer),
and my owner looked really cross and stern.

"I am very displeased with you, slave!", he began.
"Very displeased indeed!"

This was so fucking unfair!  What had I done, other
than protect his son?

"You have lied to me, slave, and that is totally
unacceptable.  A slave never lies to his owner, or, if
he does, he must expect and accept the consequences!

I went to say something, but of course the gag was
still in place, so I was still effectively dumb.

"All this time you knew you had done a great service
to my son,  and thus to me, and yet whenever the
revolt was spoken of you remained silent.  You have
caused my son much unnecessary suffering, by making
him lie to me!  Had you spoken out as a proper slave
should have, mindful of his absolute duty to be honest
at all times, my son and I could have avoided a lot of
misunderstandings, and would not have been so distant
with each other because of he secret that was not
spoken of."

Dad, dad....", Rob blurted out.  "Don't be so unfair
It was me who told Steve not to say anything.  I
ordered him not to tell you about all the stuff I've
discussed with you now, as I didn't want to have to
tell you about being raped...."

"Be quiet Rob, and keep out of this!  The fact remains
that Steve is my slave.  He had a duty to me,
irrespective of what you may have told him.  A good,
honest, trustworthy slave would have told me the real
truth about your adventures.  And them being the wise
and caring father I am, I could have helped you.  As
it is, there has been much needless deception and
stress for you, and for that, Steve must be punished."

"No, dad..."

"Yes, Rob!  If he does not understand now that he has
an absolute duty to think of my interests in
everything he does, he is a danger to us all.  He
might not rebel outwardly, but we cannot have a slave
thinking for himself, working out what's 'best', as he
sees it.  That's what us owners do:  we plan and
manage, and the slaves, dumb beasts as they are,
obey..  So he must be punished."

I shook my head violently, and tried to scream and
shout that it was all so fucking unfair.  But my owner
stood there impassively, and turned to Rob, and
remarked "See, Rob, this is what happens when you
allow a slave to take part in your life and put him in
the position of making decisions and acting on his own
volition  It's not good for them - can you  imagine
one of the domestic slaves standing there and
attempting to shout at me in such a way?    You are
very much in the wrong, Rob, for putting Steve in this
position.  But he should have known that as my loyal
slave he should have told me before.  As he did not,
he is guilty.  And as you can see, he is no longer
behaving as an obedient slave should.  There is only
one way to deal with him now - he must be whipped, and
whipped hard.  We may yet save him."

"NO, dad!  It's not Steve's fault...."

"It is, Rob.  And if we do not take strong corrective
action now, he will always be a wilful, disobedient
slave.  You have allowed some aspects of a 'free man'
to creep back into his life, and there is, in my
experience, only one way to rid him of them:  the
whip."

"NO, dad..."

"Yes, Rob!  It is in Steve's own best interests, if
you think about it.  If he is allowed to go on as he
is, sooner or later he will commit some major error by
thinking and acting 'free' - and then we would have no
option but to have him gelded, or even crucified.  If
we whip him now, and whip him hard, we may yet manage
to reset his brain so that he is once more a proper
humble obedient slave.  He will be much happier, you
know - perhaps not immediately, when he is in agony,
but long term..."

"...happier with his body cut to ribbons?"

"Yes, Rob.  I know we may damage him permanently, and
it is indeed a pity for that lovely back and those
magnificent shoulders to get flayed, but in the long
term, it's for the best. A lot of physical pain now
may save him from a lifetime of mental anguish as he
struggles to reconcile his 'free' thoughts with his
duties as a slave. "

Rob came over to me, put his arm around my neck and
pulled me down slightly so he could say to me quietly
"I'm sorry, Steve.  It is mostly my fault, you know.
But dad's right - he knows a lot about slave handling,
and since our time on the road, you haven't been the
same Steve as when you were a slave here before.  I
reckon he does need to do this, but you can rely on
me:  I won't care - I'll still want you as my slave,
even with your back flayed and scarred for life."

I tried to say something to him, but of course  I
could not.  And as he let go of my neck, thne pushed
me gently away from him, the doors opened and the
guards came in to take me away.

End Of Part Fourteen