Date: Fri, 25 Nov 2005 05:20:23 -0800 (PST) From: Pete Brown Subject: Steve Grows Up, Part Two Steve Grows Up By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownsetoticstries Part 2 The moment Mr. Stryker had left the atmosphere seemed to lighten a little, as the niggas all relaxed. One of them slapped dad's hand in greeting, and said that they hadn't seen him for a long time, and hat he hoped dad remembered the form. Dad smiled back at him and said "Oh yes - how could I forget. But this is my son - it's his first time. ...." "...and a fine boy", the nigga broke in, "...and I can see he's a chip off the old block. You surely have a fine son there, and we'll be gentle with him, just as we always are with you, you know that. Now come on, over to the tables, so we can get started." Dad kind of shepherded me over to where there were two stainless steel tables next to each other. There was a faintly unpleasant smell in the air, something or other overlaid by strong disinfectant, and I began to feel afraid. But dad said "Come on, Steve, lie down... Like this....." He lowered himself onto the table, belly up, with his ass over the edge and his feet resting on the floor. I was unsure, scared, even, but with dad there it must be OK, so I did the same thing on the other table, almost shivering as the cold steel touched my back. The niggas came over and picked up our feet! I was so surprised, but dad was lying there calmly as they raised our legs and pushed them apart, back towards our heads. So I just accepted it, even though I knew my most private and intimate part was being exposed to them. One nigga held my left foot, one dad's right foot, and the third one held my right foot and dad's left, together. I was not exactly scared, I suppose - more really, really worried about what was going to happen, and dad must have known this as he reached out his hand, and I did the same and he clasped mine firmly as we lay there. "It's OK, Steve - this doesn't hurt, honest!", he said. "But you must lie still whilst the niggas do their work. OK, son?" "Yes, dad", I muttered, as, to tell you the truth, I was a bit worried that my teeth might begin to chatter or my voice to break, as I was feeling so unsure of what was happening. But then when the fourth nigga started work on me - well.... Look, it's not that it hurt or anything, but it was the complete humiliation of having another guy holding my dick and fondling my balls as I lay there. I started to whimper a bit, but dad gripped my hand more tightly and said "OK, Steve, just stay calm. It's not going to hurt, honest - I've had this done lots of times..." And then the nigga began to clip away at my pubes with scissors, and when he'd done that, he used a big shaving brush to cover everything in foam - it tickles, I can tell you! And of course when he approached me with the big cut-throat razor, I wasn't all that worried as I realised what he was going to do: and he did it very well, too, taking infinite care not to cause me any pain or discomfort as he rolled and squeezed my balls around in my sac so he could stretch the skin tight and shave the hairs off! Mind you, when he did the same thing to the area behind my balls and up to my asshole, I really hated it - the niggas pushed my legs ever further backwards so my butt was raised right up to give him access, and I felt so exposed, then, as the shaving brush slathered the whole area in foam. I wanted to almost laugh as it tickled so much, and the scraping of the razor as he oh so carefully removed all the hair from around my asshole was actually somehow erotic - I felt my dick starting to go hard, and the niggas all laughed as they said that often happened to guys in this situation. They left me lying here then as they did the same thing to dad, and I couldn't really understand why they didn't let me get up. But when they'd finished with his shaving, I found out - the nigga who was doing all the work wheeled over what I now know was an enema cart. He rested one big black hand on my belly, as if to control me, as he murmured "Now, young Steve, you just lie quiet as we start to clean you out. I've warmed the nozzle, and the water's warm.... But it can be a bit strange first time... Just lie still, and don't worry - I've done this lots of times before, and I've never lost a guy yet." The first time someone tries to stick something up your ass it's awful. He might have warmed the nozzle, and it was shiny steel and greased to make it slide easily, but even so I hated it as he gently pressed on it to get it in me. Then, as the water started to flow, it felt so odd- not hurting exactly, but you're just not used to tuff flowing in to you and starting to swell you up, are you? The nigga kept his hand on my belly as it rose up, and then said "That's enough. Now I'm going to take the nozzle out and I want you just to lie there and hold it all in, whilst I do your daddy. OK?" I muttered a yes, and almost freaked out at the sensation of the nozzle being pulled out of my ass - it was like taking a huge crap, only much more so, and yet somehow different. It wasn't so bad at first and I just lay there as the nigga filled dad up, but soon the kind of cramping pains you get when you've got diarrhoea started. I called out, saying they had to let me go as I needed the bathroom, and dad said "Just hold it, Steve....", and the nigga came back over to me, dragging the enema cart behind him. He pulled something up from the lower shelf and there was the kind of sucking sound you hear at the dentist when he turns on the mouthwash thing, and something was pressed against my ass. "OK, Steve, fire away! Let go! The funnel's in place", the nigga called out cheerily, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Look, I don't know if you've ever had to do it, but however badly your guts are cramping, you just can' take a dump with other guys watching, can you? Somehow I was almost frozen, and the nigga evidently knew this as he began to massage my swollen belly gently, crooning quietly and telling me everything was OK. There comes a point, of course, when you can bear it no longer and I just had to crap - but I was surprised by the violence with which my body expelled the water and stuff down through that suction tube into the cart. They did dad next, and now I understood why the disinfectant smell was hovering in the air when we came in - it was to mask the smell of our shit which pervaded the place as there wasn't a perfect seal between the funnel thing and our asses. It took four "flushes" of the water through us before the nigga declared us "ready", and they lowered our legs and we were allowed to stand up. I looked at dad, and he looked at me, and kind of grinned. "You do take after me, Steve!", he said, as if joking would somehow make it better. "Look at you now you can see your dick properly - we're proper men in our family!" Well, if what I could see of dad was anything to go by, I understood what he meant: they'd trimmed the forest of thick wiry pubes back so it no longer went across from hip to hip, and what was left was much reduced in length. His dick stood out proud and visible now, lying on top of balls which were so much more apparent now they'd been shaved clean , as they hung there. I knew I must look the same, and the nigga told dad and me to sit on the table now, and they went through a whole range of stuff on us - some I didn't mind at all, like having my hair cut (although I'd been proud of my luxuriant thick hair, worn fashionably long, and now it was cropped close to my skull, as dad always wore his. I'd always assumed that was because he didn't want to get his hair all soaked in sweat as he worked, but now I saw the real reason). Some of it was pretty terrible, though - I mean, a grown man doesn't have another one to cut his toenails and finger nails, does he? Or to clean out his ears with those cotton bud things, or scrape around inside his nose? For fuck's sake, if they'd just given me a tissue or something I could have cleaned my own snot out! Dad and I stood there then with the four niggas, and I have to say we had nothing to be ashamed off - I mean, at school we'd always joked about the size of nigga dicks, and the way that they had good bodies because of their breeding and so on, but dad and me could stand comparison easily. Dad and the head nigga slapped hands again, and dad didn't seem to be embarrassed at being naked with them, so I suppose that made it a bit easier for me, and when the nigga led us across the room in to what was clearly a sauna, I began to cheer up - we had one of these at school, and sometimes we were allowed in after a particularly hard game, to "loosen up". The nigga opened the door and dad and I went in, but I soon realised this wasn't like the one at school - for one thing, the niggas outside locked the door, so we were trapped inside it until they chose to let us out. And for another, you didn't tip water over the "coals" when you weren't sweating enough - the niggas controlled a spray from outside, and it soon became obvious that they were going to keep the humidity up at the maximum, whatever we wanted and however much we were sweating. All dad and I could do was just sit there on the hot pine, in that kind of companionable nakedness guys have in saunas. "Dad, what's going on? Why have you got a slave mark on you... Why...?" "Steve, look, I'm sorry. I should have told you before. But a the years went by and everything seemed to be going OK, your mom and I just couldn't get around to telling you. Look, you know how they reintroduced slavery for serious crimes, years ago? Well, the numbers fell right off, of course, and the jails gradually emptied. Only the niggas, who were into drug dealing and such, kept getting caught and enslaved, and that's why almost all the slaves today are niggas. In fact, 'nigga' almost means the same as 'slave', doesn't it? There are white slaves, of course, but not many of them, and most people simply don't even think that a white guy can be a slave - but I'm one of the stupid ones who got caught, and was enslaved." "What did you do, dad?" "Oh, something completely stupid. I mean, I knew the risks. And that made it somehow even more exciting., There was this girl I really fancied at school - and the fact that she was 'forbidden' just made it all the more exciting. So we met, one thing led to another, and of course I fucked her. She was only fifteen but looked and acted as if she was nineteen, and that was part of her attraction as I was sixteen, the same age a you are now, and I liked the idea of being seen with someone older and more sophisticated. But she told her parents when they were rowing about something or other, and she used the fact that she was getting fucked by a boy to try to get them to see that she was 'grown up'. The sky fell in - I was an 'adult', even though much less experienced than she was, and they enslaved me." "I was lucky, really - there aren't a lot of young white slaves, especially not good looking ones like me. They fetch very high prices, and they're usually destined for the sex industry - a lot of those blacks who have made it into the professions and such and are rich like the idea of fucking a young white guy, and I might have expected to have ended up in a brothel for some years. But the old Colonel, the Colonel's father, was at the courthouse on the day I was sentenced, and when they stripped my clothes off me and paraded me around the courtroom after sentence was passed - that's the tradition, you know - he liked what he saw." "He went to the auction - I'll tell you about just how humiliating that was some day, and bid for me, brought me here and 'apprenticed' me to his current blacksmith so that I got a good training. And then he bought your mother, and told us we were to breed new slaves for him." "Dad!", I burst out. "You mean mom's a slave, too? And you didn't meet her, court her, and marry her for love...." "Steve, it doesn't matter. Sure, we were put together, and at first every night we were locked in a cage by the blacksmith, locked in together, naked. And of course you can imagine what happened - I'm a virile guy, and there's no way I could sleep with a woman, particularly not a real looker like your mother, without wanting to fuck her! Once the doctors told the Colonel that I'd 'done my duty' and you were on the way, they would have separated us, but we both begged the Colonel to be allowed to stay together... And he did. Just because your mom and I met like that it doesn't mean we don't really love each other, Steve. And the problem has always been to stop breeding new kids - it's not that we don't have sex, you know! It's been a real problem over the year s to hold back at those times of the month to try to stop producing more kids - we're never allowed condoms or the pill or anything, as the Colonel wanted lots of young slaves to sell. Still, at least he lets us keep you all with us - you may have seen that the piccaninnies on the plantation are taken from their mothers after they're weaned and are bought up communally in the nurseries. The Colonel thought that allowing us to bring up you kids 'naturally' would produce 'nicer' offspring, in general." "Dad, you mean you're happy to do this - just to be breeders for the Colonel!" I just couldn't keep the note of astonishment, and disapproval, out of my voice. "No, son, of course I'm not! But what other choice is there? I'm a slave, your mother's a slave, and there's no escape these days, you know. Without 'papers' we couldn't get a job or anything. And if we didn't breed for him, he'd just sell your mom, or me, or both of us - and then what would happen? Do you want your mom to be sold into some brothel? Or me for that matter? And what about all you kids? Do you think the little ones want our family broken up? It may not be much, but at least we try to make you happy." "But dad, what's going to happen now?" "Steve, just obey the Colonel. Your future's entirely in his hands. He owns you. And now your sixteen, there are certain things he can do to an adult that he can't do to a kid..." I gulped, as the realisation was dawning on me. "You mean..... I'm a slave?" "Yes, Steve. And all your brothers and sisters. The offspring of a slave is a slave, you know." "Dad, why didn't you tell me?" "We wanted you to have a happy childhood, Steve. To grow up 'normal'. We always knew this day would come, of course, when you'd be sixteen and a man. And then you'd be taken from us - but then, if you were free and went away to college, or got married, or moved to another part of the country, you'd have 'gone' one day, as all self-confident men do anyway. So it seemed best to let you enjoy life - and I think it's not been too bad, has it?" He sounded so anxious, so worried, that I put out my hand for his, and said "No, dad. Thanks. You did the right thing." Well, even if I wasn't so certain, it didn't cost much to say it, did it? Still it was bit creepy - all those nights I'd listened through the wall as they fucked away, and all the time they were trying to avoid making new slaves for the Colonel! We might have gone on talking in that intimate atmosphere, but the niggas opened the door and we were able to get out - you really do feel great after a sauna, don't you? And the shower they gave us was even better - I've never felt so squeaky-clean in my life. "There you are", the chief nigga said to dad, "As clean inside and out as you possibly can be. I sure do envy the Colonel having two such hunks tonight!" I looked at dad with alarm, but he just shook his head gently at me as if to tell me to keep quiet and stay calm. He put his arm around me again, and that was a comfort, and we stood there until Mr Stryker came back for us. Dad chatted to the niggas and it seemed as if they knew him well, and in a break in the conversation I asked him how he knew about all this stuff. He looked really embarrassed, and half turned away from me as he said "Well, over the years, occasionally... Especially with the old Colonel.... I'd be sent for and cleaned up like this.... And then, well, you know...." "No, dad, I don't know. What then? Why is all this stuff done to us?" Dad really didn't want to answer, but at that moment Mr. Stryker reappeared and curtly told the niggas to stop wasting time and get the place cleaned up, then told dad and me to follow him. We went back up the service stairs and back along the grand corridor, and perhaps I was getting used to being naked by now, as it didn't feel quite so odd. The young nigga at the door knocked and then, as we were waiting, I saw him giving my dick a real once-over, and he was nodding appreciatively. But then we heard the order to open the door, and Mr Stryker led us in. The Colonel must have been having dinner whilst we were being "prepared", as he said casually "Excellent! You two are even better than before, and I'm glad I skipped desert as I think I'm going to enjoy this more to finish the evening with...." He looked at Mr. Stryker and told him he could go, and I saw Mr. Stryker look concerned, but the Colonel said "Oh go on, Stryker! There's no danger. I've been alone with the blacksmith before, and he's never caused trouble to with my father or me. And I'm sure he's capable of controlling young Steve, even though he looks like a strong young man!" Mr. Stryker kind of saluted, and turned and left, and the Colonel said "Come and sit on the chesterfield by me, Steve. And you, blacksmith, go and stand over there, in the corner, and I'll call you if I need you." I was surprised that dad seemed almost keen to obey the Colonel's order, but he did, and then the Colonel kind of put his arm along the back of the chesterfield, and repeated "Here, Steve, right by me." So what was I to do? For one thing, I'd always been taught that you should be polite to grown-ups, and the Colonel had invited me to sit. It seemed odd to be naked next to him in his expensive casual clothes, and the leather of the chesterfield felt cold against my bare butt and back, but I sat there and did my best to relax. The Colonel picked up the remote thing that I'd seen Rob use to control his TV when I was visiting, and pressed a button, and the TV lit up. There was a scene showing of a young guy, in his mid-twenties, I'd guess, vigorously fucking a girl on a bed as another girl lay beside them playing with her tits! I felt myself going erect, and the Colonel must have seen as he asked "You like this, don't you, Steve? I've heard that you're quite one for the ladies! Which one of those two beauties would you like to be with - the one he's fucking now, or the one he's going to fuck in a few minutes? Which one reminds you of your girlfriend, Steve?" Desperate to try to say something in the hope of distracting myself from the feeling of becoming erect, I mumbled "I don't have a girlfriend at the moment, sir." "But you have been with girls, haven't you, Steve? Even though it's not strictly legal until today? Come on, you can tell me - I'm not a cop, or anything." I was flushing as I said "Yes, sir. Some of the girls at school...." "Excellent, Steve. I like a man with experience." I was watching the film intently now as it was quite exciting to see the guy really pounding away as the second girl now stood behind him and started to rub her breasts all over his sweating back. I knew I was completely erect, as I was really turned on, and I could feel my dick really straining. I prayed that the Colonel wouldn't see, or wouldn't say anything, at least, as there was no real way I could hide my dick as I sat there naked. And then I felt it - the colonel's hand resting on my thigh, well above my knee. His fingers were warm and slightly sweaty on the tender skin on the inside of my leg, and his hand was moving upwards towards my dick. Although he'd "inspected" me before we went down to be "prepared", having his hand advance on my dick and balls like this was too much, and I almost shouted "No, please, sir, stop it!" "Oh come on, Steve, it's only my hand...." "No, sir, please.... Don't!" As I said this, I gripped the Colonel's wrist with my hand, and went to pull it away from me. "Let me go, Steve!" "No, sir, please don't touch me like that.... Please....." The Colonel seemed to blaze with anger. He shouted "Blacksmith! Get over here and stop your son before I call for the guards and have him really punished." Dad came racing over, and when he saw me still gripping the Colonel's hand, said quietly, in that authoritative way he has sometimes, "Steve, let the Colonel's hand go. It's absolutely forbidden to touch a free man unless he orders you to. Come on, son, relax, calm down... You don't want to be punished, do you?" I did as dad told me to, and the Colonel looked at him kind of intently, and said softly "Excellent, blacksmith. That's the way a son should obey his father. And I'll forgive young Steve, at least this time, as he probably doesn't know the rules. But I'll expect you to teach him, and he'd better learn from you, and quickly, if he's to avoid a whipping. Do I make myself clear?" I didn't like this talk of whipping, as I'd often been to the regular weekly sessions where really bad niggas were strung up and the public whipmaster came in to flay them. The poor guys always shrieked and screamed until they passed out, and their backs were bloody tattered things when the man was done. The thought that I might be one of those guys on the whipping frame terrified me - I'd always assumed it could never to happen to me, as I wasn't a nigga - but I could see that the Colonel could have me whipped as a slave, if he wanted. Dad nodded, anyway, and the Colonel went on "So, blacksmith, just this first time I think you'd better sit there next to him, and control young Steve." "Yes, sir", dad replied, and came and sat next to me on the chesterfield, so that I was between him and the Colonel. Dad put his arm along the back of the chesterfield and kind of pulled me towards him. "Now, Steve, behave!", he told me, looking straight into my eyes. "No resistance, understand?" I nodded, and as that video played, the Colonel again put his hand on my leg, and started to move it upwards towards my dick and balls. He leaned over as he got closer, and with his other hand began to stroke my right nip, and I started to moan and I knew my erection was now rock hard. But when I felt his fingers stroking the shaft of my dick, and then moving up to start sliding my 'skin on and off my dick head, I said softly "Sir, please, no.... " The Colonel carried on, though, and the more he played with my nip and teased away at my 'skin, the less I liked it - although the sensations flooding my body were almost overpowering, somehow I just knew it wasn't right. "No, please, sir, stop!", I said again and tried to twist my body away from him, but dad held me firmly by the shoulders, and almost whispered in my ear "Keep calm, Steve... It's OK, son....". "No, dad, please, make him stop...." The Colonel seemed to lose patience at this point as he stopped and took his hands away, and looked at dad. "Well, blacksmith, you've seen that I've tried to be nice and gentle with the boy, and he doesn't appreciate it. I think he needs to start learning, and learning fast, what happens to a slave who disobeys me!" "No, please sir..." It was dad now pleading. "Please, sir, don't order him to be whipped, or even caned..." "Very well, blacksmith, I'll not punish him harshly - yet! But if the behaviour persists, it may be the only way, as I seem to remember you found out when you first came to my father. But the boy needs to learn, and the only way you slaves learn is by physical reinforcement of the basic messages, and I can't let young Steve here believe that it is satisfactory for him to argue with his owner. So I think you should tan that hide of his - put him across your knee, and spank him six times." "Sir, please, no.... Give the boy another chance", dad said, not sounding too hopeful. "You too, blacksmith? Why is it so difficult to just do as you're told? Now, before I order you both down for a good whipping...." I saw dad looking, calculating, almost, and then he grabbed me. Before I knew what was happening almost he'd moved his grip from around my shoulders to hold the back of my neck, then forced my body down over his bare thighs. With his other hand he kind of scooped at my legs, and before I knew it I was stretched out across him. I started to shout and protest, as there's no way he ought to be doing this to a man my age - the last time he'd spanked me was when I'd been particularly trying to mom all day, and upset all my kid brothers and sisters, when I was about ten years old! I tried to break free, but it was no use as dad's fingers dug into my neck and held me down, and then the next moment I really shouted, as dad's hand came down across my butt with a great "slap" sound. It wasn't just that it hurt - really hurt, as dad's got arm muscles like coiled springs from all the work he does in the smithy - but it was the total humiliation of it all. But before I could do anything about it, there was another, and another.... My dick was pressed under me against dad's powerful hairy thighs, and I knew that he'd be feeling my erection pressing into him, and then I felt his stabbing at my belly as I lay there across him. But then it was over and dad released the pressure on my neck, and I struggled to get to my feet. I stood there, erect and ashamed in front of the two men, and I saw the Colonel was almost laughing! "Turn around, Steve", he ordered, "as I want to see that butt of yours now its nicely warmed up." I did as I was told, and I'm sure my cheeks were as red with embarrassment as my butt was from dad's ministrations. I could feel my butt throbbing with the after burn of the spanking, and just knew that it must be bright red. I turned back to face them, and saw dad looking really unhappy at what he'd had to do to me - I think I understood why he'd done it, to save me from a worse punishment (and him, too), but nevertheless I wasn't happy at being so humiliated like this. The Colonel looked at dad and said "Well done! It's good to see a father still able to discipline his son properly. Now, I think I'd like to see young Steve jerk off, and we need his cum, as you know.... But I think it might encourage you both to 'bond' a little more if you did it." He looked at me and went on "Come on, Steve, back in-between your dad and me... The leather will soothe that hot butt of yours." I really didn't want to, but what choice did I have? Dad seemed to be under the Colonel's control, and would certainly beat me again if I refused, so gingerly, well aware of how tender my butt now was, I sank back onto the chesterfield. Dad put his arm around my shoulder again to kind of hold me there next to him - or perhaps it may have been to give me some sort of encouragement or support. Then the Colonel said quietly "Come on, blacksmith - I haven't got all night: let's see that boy of yours shoot a load." Dad turned to face me, and looked pretty anguished, but he reached down for my dick, and began to stroke it. "No, dad.... No, please don't....", I said quietly, but dad just carried on, and said quite calmly "Steve, be quiet. Just enjoy it...". Well, actually, if it hadn't been for the Colonel watching, I might have enjoyed it quite a lot - I always wanted to be close to dad, but he was never very physically demonstrative to me as he was always with mom. And now here he was, our naked bodies pressed companionably close together so I could feel the warmth of him and the sweat on both of us made it seem even more intimate. And dad really did know how to jerk a guy off - he was so much better than Rob when we'd tried it, but not as good as doing it myself, of course: although I liked the way he slid my 'skin over my head, alternating this with gripping my shaft firmly and stroking his thumb over my piss slit. Mind you, dad's heavy, work-calloused hands were a bit rough, but somehow the excitement of having this done to me took over, and I just couldn't help moaning with the sheer excitement of what was gong on. I couldn't even say "No" when the Colonel joined in, stroking my balls as dad jerked me off, and then putting his hand on dad's as he worked at me. I heard the Colonel say "Point him down, he's cumming!", and I knew I was about to shoot. And then there was that fantastic sensation as my dick started spasming, pumping my cum out. I looked down, and the Colonel was holding a big crystal ashtray under my dick, which dad had angled downwards, and the glass was covered in a huge pool of my thick cum. But I started to squirm as dad continued to jerk at me, and my cries of "No, stop, please....", were drowned out by the Colonel's insistence to "Keep on jerking him, blacksmith, as I want him completely drained". You know how it is when you've shot - well, for me at least, my dick goes incredibly sensitive - and although it's a kind of pleasure, it's also extremely uncomfortable, and I almost arched my body to try to escape dad's hand, and was calling out "No...... Oh, please..... Oh fuck.....". We all slumped back eventually on the chesterfield, and dad took his hand off me, although he still kept his arm around me as if to comfort me now. He looked at me, a worried look on his face, but all I could do was grin now as in spite of the humiliation and everything, it had been a pretty good - no, great - experience. I was breathing hard, and there was almost a rivulet of sweat running down between my pecs and across my belly, and dad used his hand - the one he'd just jerked me off with - to rub at it, as if to make me more comfortable. We both smiled at each other now, and I think I really felt like a man for the first time , to have had another man, a big, tough man like dad, treat me like this. But as we sat there like that I heard the Colonel say "Excellent, Steve! Now, you are a slave, and the first thing an owner does to a new slave, or to his slave once he's a man, is to take his cherry. Do you know what that means, Steve?" "No, sir." "Well, Steve, you learned about sex, sex with women, at school, don't you? What they don't tell you is that although sex with women is fine, and a lot of men really enjoy it, and of course we have to do it to continue the human race, there's something better, much better. I think they ought to teach all young men in high school about it, but they clearly don't. You see, Steve, a man can fuck a woman, as you've been doing. But he can also fuck another man. And it's very enjoyable indeed - well, at least for the man who's doing the fucking! And although some men enjoy being fucked, a lot of them don't. And do you know what, Steve? I think you're like your dad in that respect - I don't think you're going to like being fucked at all! But I'll tell you another thing, too - that only makes it even more exciting for the man who's doing the fucking. Combining the fun of sex with the joy of totally controlling another man is the ultimate experience." I listened with horror. I mean, although the Colonel was right and they didn't teach it to us at school, there was a lot of stories circulating about men pushing their dicks up other guys' asses. I'd always wondered what would have happened if Rob and me had gone further than jerking each other off - but I think we'd been a it scared by these stories we'd heard. But the Colonel was continuing "So, Steve, let's get you ready... Now, as it's your first time, and you're pretty strong for a sixteen year old, I think I'd better take you on the 'horse', as we call it." He looked over at dad, whose grip on my shoulders had steadily increased, whether it was to comfort me or to stop me running away, I don't know. "You know where the 'horse' is, don't you, blacksmith? Why don't you go and drag it over here, where there's more room?" Dad got to his feet and went to the far corner of the room, and half carried, half dragged back towards us an antique-looking cabinet about three feet high. It seemed to be made of solid dark walnut or something like that, standing on four very solid looking legs. Dad put it down and opened the top, which was hinged and split in half, to reveal a leather covered padded top about four feet long and eighteen inches wide. I wondered how dad knew that this was what the Colonel meant, and how he'd known to open it up like this. The Colonel got to his feet and held out his hand to me, to join him. He moved me to the cabinet thing, and said quietly "This is the 'horse', Steve. You'll soon get used to it, as I'm sure you and I are going to have several interesting sessions here... It's a good one, as you'll see - been in my family for generations. Most of the ladies who come here for parties never realise that this cabinet holds such potential delights! Now, just go and lie on the top, belly down - it's padded, so it's not uncomfortable. Leave your dick hanging over the end and keep your feet on the floor..." "Please...", I said desperately. But it was dad, not the Colonel, who replied "Steve, do as you're told! Remember what I said, as we were coming here. Don't worry, son - it will soon be over." End Of Part Two