Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2007 23:41:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Instrument, Part Four

THE INSTRUMENT

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part  Four

It was a particularly busy time of year on the
Sheikh's estates at that point, and in the next couple
of weeks I had little time to focus on the soldiers,
now slaves.  Nor, indeed, on the boy Marc all that
much.  In any case, we have many guards and overseers
on the estate, and one of them had been entrusted to
the training of the soldiers, and the conversion of
them into gifts that the Sheikh could give to his
guests without the possible embarrassment of insulting
them by offering them low quality slaves.  As I did my
rounds of the estate I did see them from time to time
- they were being "bronzed" by doing their exercises
out of doors in spite of the broiling sun (although
they were slathered with sun block, as it was not of
course the intention to damage them by causing them to
burn).  It's not all that difficult to exercise slaves
like that, actually - for toughening the legs and the
general heart and lungs all you need to do is to make
them run - and with a collar around their necks and a
chain joining them to the back of a  small quad bike,
that's not difficult at all.  And to make sure that
their upper body development  was properly in
proportion, you can get them to do something like
swimming - well, not swimming exactly:  you chain
their ankles together with a heavy set of manacles and
chains, and then drop them into deep water:  in order
not to drown they then have to paddle around endlessly
with their arms, and that generally suffices.

The first couple of times I saw them they were looking
decidedly dejected - although perhaps that's because
they'd experienced the pain of the branding iron as it
seared the traditional "S" into their butts.  And, of
course, the three of them who had previously retained
their foreskins had now all been neatly and properly
'skinned, as befits a slave (the Sheikh , in common
with most owners, likes to see his slaves' cock heads
properly exposed, and it is not considered proper for
a slave to be able to hide any part of himself from
his owner).

The night of the Sheikh's big feast came up on me a
little unexpectedly therefore, as I had not been
deeply engaged in the preparations.  That afternoon
the Sheikh summoned me into his audience chamber and
when he had finished his various telephone calls (as I
waited patiently, at a kind of parade rest - not the
formal one used by slaves, but nevertheless
sufficiently still and semi-formal, to show my respect
for him) he said to me "Steve, tonight I think my
guests would like to see something a little
special...."

"Yes, Highness - you are presenting them with the new
slaves, as a gift...."

"Indeed, but that is to be by way of a finale.   I
want them to think that they have had a truly
spectacular evening's entertainment, and then, when
they believe that there could not be anything further
to come, that is when I will give them their gifts.
So before that there is to be the entertainment
itself, and I have decided that they would relish
seeing a virgin losing  his cherry - the young slave,
Marc - is that his name? - will do admirably."

"Yes, Highness, it is indeed Marc.  And he is indeed
still a virgin, as in accordance with your
instructions we have been most careful to ensure that
no cock has yet entered him.  He is of course trained
now in all the other arts of sex, but as yet his arse
remains inviolate.  But Highness, surely.... I thought
he was being reserved for your personal pleasure...."

"And that was the plan, Steve.  But when I see him
from time to time I cannot help thinking that he is a
particularly spectacular example of a young boy - no,
a man, just on the cusp of maturity  -  and that he
would therefore provide particularly exotic
entertainment for my guests."

"But Highness, you surely cannot... You cannot
'perform' in front of your guests.... Your dignity,
your prestige, your power...."

"Of course not!  How could you even think such a
thing?  No, he will be deflowered by you.  You will do
it."

"Highness, I'm not sure...."

"Rubbish!  Of course you will.  It's not as if you are
shy or bashful - think of how many times you have
performed for me, as an entertainment."

"But Highness, that was just for you.  There will be
many men there tonight...."

"Indeed yes.  And it will be a particular pleasure for
them to see a free man perform, rather than just a
slave.  Most of them are used to having slaves engaged
in sexual acts for their delectation, but no one has
ever, to my knowledge, had a free man perform such
acts in public before.  It will be a further example
of my power and prestige that a free man, and
especially a free man as handsome and virile as you,
is to perform."

"Highness, please, no...."

"Steve, you are not ashamed of your body, are you?  A
man like you, who keeps himself in shape, who is
always exercising, where his musculature is a joy to
behold, and whose sexual organs are so well  formed
and perfectly in proportion to the rest of his
magnificent body.... Surely you are not ashamed of
yourself, are you?"

"No, Highness.  But you want me to fuck the boy in
front of other men.... I would like to fuck him, of
course.  But fucking in front of other men is
something else....  These things ought to be private."

"Indeed yes - if you were with a free man, you could
exercise your choice and not do it in public.  But the
boy Marc is a slave.  There is no harm in exposing a
slave to public gaze."

"But I will be exposed too, Highness.  Even though I
keep my shirt on, they will see...."

"You will of course be naked.  My guests will, as I
said, want to see a free man performing, in all his
glory...."

"No, Highness.  You can't expect me.... "

"Enough!  I have spoken.  It is not a matter of choice
for you - you are  my employee, and you will do as I
order."

"But sir, it is not reasonable for an employer to
require one of his people to fuck in public...."

"Nonsense!  On my last visit to London I went to a
club, and there were many men performing for us.  They
were all employees, as slavery is not widespread in
London.  And I am asking you, no, I am telling you,
that I expect no less."

"But Highness..."

"Enough!  You will do as you are ordered.  Now, make
sure the boy is properly cleansed for tonight's
performance - I find it very unaesthetic to see shit
everywhere.  And as an encore, I think you should get
the boy to clean your cock with his tongue when you
are finished - and I do not want him to sicken
afterwards from the germs in excrement.  And then
there is the smell to consider - we will, after all,
have eaten."

"Highness, please..."

"Enough, I said!  I do not tolerate argument from
slaves, and I do not think I should have to do so from
my employees either."

I stood there in miserable silence, and he went on "As
I said, the fact that you are a free man is part of
the eroticism and excitement of the event, so it is
important that my guests to know that you are not a
slave.  Consequently you will join us for dinner and
then when we are moving on to the coffee, I will
summon you forward into the centre, and you will
begin."

"Is it a formal dinner, Highness?  Your guests will no
doubt be wearing traditional robes, but should I get
the slaves to prepare my formal suit, and get out a
tie..."

"I think it would be more interesting for my guests if
they had the opportunity of enjoying your body for the
entire evening.  It will add an additional frisson of
excitement to the spectacle if a free  man is with
them all the time, naked. So you will sit at the table
unclothed, and of course at the reception beforehand
you will mingle with them as a free man, even though
you are exposed totally to them."

"NO!  No, Highness, please.... Don't make me do that."

"As I have explained, your embarrassment is
unnecessary, as you have a splendid body.  And it is
in any event irrelevant, as I have made a decision.
But, on reflection, I think it might be more
interesting, and indeed more erotic,  to hide you
somewhat before all is revealed when the boy is
brought in.  So you will dress in a loin cloth, just a
small one, one that barely conceals your genitals...
Conceals them but reveals them, if you understand me:
when you are standing still they should not be on
public display, but any movement should offer my
guests brief, tantalising glimpses of what is to
come."

He saw me about to protest again, and held up his hand
in a gesture of silence.  Then he continued "You are
well bronzed, and so I think a pure white loin cloth
will produce a good contrast.  And around your waist a
thin gold chain - let it be sufficiently lose so that
it rests on those superb buttocks of yours and
suggests that it might slip down at any moment.  Then,
when you have removed the cloth itself as you begin to
fuck the boy, the gold chain will remain to add
emphasis and interest to your rear."

I went to protest again, but he snapped "Enough!  See
to it.  Now, go, and make sure the boy is well
prepared.  I want to see vigorous fucking, but it is
important that when you enter him you do not damage
him as he is a valuable property, a property that I
intend to make full use of myself later in the
evening.  He is to be sufficiently tight that the
entry of your cock causes him to scream and writhe
with pain, but not so tight that any membranes are
torn.  See to it!  Now, go."

As he said that the Sheikh picked up the telephone
again, and I knew that further argument was useless -
he was, as you know, a total and absolute ruler and
was simply unaccustomed to the idea that anyone might
oppose his ideas in any way.

I have to say that preparing the boy was not a
particular pleasure - he had not experienced the enema
nozzle before, and was most unhappy as I ordered him
to bend over so  I could insert it into him - he
squirmed and moaned, even though it was well greased,
and I have to say I felt a bit of sympathy for him:
if he found this so uncomfortable, how was he going to
be later, when my cock was thrusting his sphincter
wide open?

As you probably know it's important to fill the gut
with the washing fluid and then to hold it there for
some few minutes if it is to do its work with maximum
effectiveness, and I suppose it was vaguely amusing to
see him hopping from foot to foot, desperate to
relieve the pressure in his bowels, and with his
normally flat belly now distended with the volume of
liquid inside him.  And then, when I did allow him to
relieve himself, he hated the way the contents were
expelled with such force that his feet and legs were
splattered with it!  And he was so naive that he
failed to realise that we had to go through the entire
cycle three more times, until the liquid flowing out
from him was clean and sweet.

I was tempted to spend a very long time massaging his
hole and really stretching him, but I remembered the
Sheikh's instructions that he was to cry and writhe
when he was entered - as you are all aware, I'm sure,
it is possible to massage and stretch a guy so that
your cock simply slides in almost without hindrance,
but this was not the object of tonight's exercise and
so I did the minimum necessary:  a good quantity of
oil, which should avoid tearing.

He knew that something special was about to happen, of
course, and after these preparations I summoned one of
the valet slaves to trim his hair again, cut his
fingernails, and shave him once more so that he was
totally smooth and his youthfulness was emphasised.  I
also decided that he should be "finished" with a sheen
of slave oil all over him so that he positively glowed
under the lamps.

My own preparations were more difficult.  I had
tentatively decided to ignore the Sheikh's commands
about the loin cloth and wear my normal white polo and
loose shorts to the dinner.  Then when I came to fuck
Marc, I'd simply drop the shorts and rely on the
length of the polo shirt to give me some measure of
modesty.   But as I was about to leave the bathing
area one of the valets bowed low and said humbly "Sir,
are you ready for us to prepare you?"

"Of course not!  I will shower in my quarters."

"But sir, the Master said that you were to be prepared
too... He gave us instructions, sir."

"There is no need.  I will shower and shave myself."

I went to push him aside, but the poor guy fell on his
knees and was almost sobbing.  "Oh please, sir, please
let us prepare you.  His Highness has ordered it.  And
if we do not, he might think we have disobeyed, and
the punishment would be a whipping if we were
lucky.... And if we were not, he might order us to be
mutilated..."

"Nonsense.  I will explain matters to his Highness."

"But sir, please... You may not have the opportunity.
An overseer might come in, find you not here, and
order us to be whipped...."

He was so terrified that I decided to relent,
especially as Marc was looking alarmed when he saw how
these slaves feared for the actions of the Sheikh.  So
I said casually "Oh all right - but be quick..."

The valets are good, of course.  After I had showered
(with them soaping my body, and shampooing my hair), I
lay on a sloping table covered in a thick luxurious
towel, and almost fell asleep as they massaged oil
into my skin.   I was so drowsy that I failed to
notice until it was too late that they trimmed all the
hair on my chest, and it was only after they had also
reduced the size of my pubic bush and were beginning
to shave my balls that I came to life (I suppose that
a guy's fingers on your balls, however light and
gentle, trigger some sort of survival reflex!).

"What the fuck....", I started.

"Sir, we were ordered, sir.  The Master said that as
you were to perform for him and his guests he wanted
them all to have a good view, and so we are to trim
you and shave you so that your cock and balls assume
an even greater prominence."  He lowered his voice as
if conspiratorially, and went on "Not that you need
it, sir.  We see a lot of men here, and I can honestly
say that very, very few are as well proportioned as
you..."

"Well that's as may be, but stop this!"

"Sir, we can hardly leave you like this - half
finished.  It looks odd, sir, as we only have half of
you trimmed...."

Well I suppose he was right, so I allowed them to
finish, but then when they asked me to turn over, I
went to get up.  That only triggered fresh protests
from them and they again professed to be terrified of
their fate if they did not do as they were ordered.
So I complied, and lay there, my face buried in my
crossed arms, trying to relax, as they began work on
me.

At first I didn't understand what they were doing, as
I imagined they were just shaving a few of the stray
hairs on my back, but if felt very sensuous as they
worked on my butt, and it was too late to command them
to stop when I felt the first touch of the razor
running up and down my ass crack!  They reassured me
that it was "normal" to do this as the Sheikh did not
like to see hairs protruding from a man's butt, so I
let them get on with it - although I did think it was
a bit odd as the Sheikh had never complained before
about my hairy ass when I had been fucking one of the
slaves in front of him.

Once they'd finished, though, and I stood up, they
showed me my body in a big mirror.  It was amazing the
transformation that a bit of clipping here and there
had made - my cock, always nicely sized, now looked
much bigger, my balls were so prominent now as they
swung there, and without the forest of chest hair
around them my nips seemed somehow much more solid.
Then, as I took a couple of steps, I was so surprised
as my butt cheeks literally slid over each other - I
guess we all get used to walking around with hairs in
our ass cracks, and we never notice them.  But once
they are shaved away, and when your skin has been
oiled, your butt cheeks slide over each other so
sensuously that you become aware of your ass in a way
that you never usually are.  Mind you, trimmed and
clipped like this I did start to look a little like a
slave, rather than a free man.  I fingered my cock,
teasing my 'skin a bit, and was glad that at least
this way I was different from all the naked slaves
around me.

One of the valet slaves coughed politely and when I
acknowledged him said "Shall we try on your costume
now, sir?"

I felt like telling him to fuck off, as I had no plan
to wear something humiliating.  But I knew that if I
did this he'd start begging and pleading again, and on
the whole it seemed simpler to let them go ahead -
after all I could always take it off later and get
dressed in my polo and shorts.  So I stood there as
they fetched a thin chain of that very expensive
looking dull gold, and draped it around my hips, and
then fiddled adjusting its length so that it kind of
lay on the top of my butt at the back, and yet plunged
at the front so it was only just, only barely just,
hovering above the line of the top of my pubes.  It
felt strangely cold against my skin at first, and the
slaves indicated that they'd like to see me walk
around to make sure it was "secure" and couldn't slip
off, whilst at the same time not being so tight that
it cut into my skin.

It felt really odd to be parading around in front of
the slaves, almost as if I was putting on an
exhibition for them.  I could feel my butt cheeks
sliding as I have told you, my newly prominent cock
and balls were lurching up and down, and wearing only
this thin chain it somehow felt really demeaning - I
mean, when you're totally naked, that's it, isn't it?
You're naked, and if you've got a good body, as I
have, there's nothing really to be ashamed of.  But a
chain around your waist like that somehow turns you
from being "naked" to "nude" - and kind of erotically
nude, too.  It was the sort of thing that strippers
and rent boys might wear, so they could prance around
in front of their customers in an effort to turn them
on.

The slaves fiddled around a bit, adjusting the length
until they were satisfied, and then did something to
fasten the chain, at the back where I couldn't see.
Next  they produced a thin strip of very high quality
silk - it was kind of heavy and shiny, and I suppose
it was satin really, rather than raw silk.  Hanging it
over the chain at the front, they produced a pair of
shears and neatly cut it off to length, and then asked
me to take a look at myself in the mirror again.
Well, I suppose you could say that from the front I
was "decent", in that the strip of satin (which was
not all that wide) hung down between my thighs and
concealed my cock as I stood there.  But it really was
only just wide enough, and only just long enough, and
as I made a slight movement I couldn't help but see a
glimpse of my tackle in the mirror as the satin swung
from side to side.

I thought they might but a strip down the back, too,
to hide my ass crack, but apparently not.  Still, I
didn't care, as I had no intention of wearing it
anyway.  So I told them they'd done a good job, pulled
the strip of satin off, and went to remove the thin
chain, only to find that somehow the ends had been
cemented closed, and I couldn't get it off - it could
not pass over my butt, and clearly not up past my
armpits, either.

"Don't worry, sir", one of the slaves said as he saw
me tugging at it.  "We've got the length just right
for tonight, and afterwards we'll simply use shears to
cut if off you - like that, fastened permanently, it's
neater as there's no visible fastening."

Well, I wasn't sure, but what was I to do?  So I
shrugged, pulled on my shorts, polo and sandals, and
went up to my room - one of the slaves hurrying after
me to give me the strip of satin that I'd casually
left behind.  I thanked him, but of course I had no
intention of wearing it.

Although it's not my direct responsibility as the
Sheikh has a slave who's a kind of "major domo" to
generally supervise and run the palace and its slaves,
I went down early to make sure everything was running
smoothly - this was, after all, a most important event
for the Sheikh.  As I expected, the palace was humming
with activity, but all seemed on schedule - the
reception chamber with its low couches with stables in
front of them was perfect, a row of slaves stood with
flaming torches to light the way from the palace gate
to the entrance hall, and inside there were further
slaves holding silver bowls of scented water so that
guests could ritually wash their hands on entry. It's
surprising what the constant threat of hard physical
punishment can do to ensure that on occasions like
this everyone is performing his duties thoroughly and
properly!

I spoke to the major domo and he assured me that
everything was in an equal state of readiness in the
kitchens for the sumptuous banquet, that the waiters
were all freshly shaved and their short white tunics
were spotless and immaculate, and then he took me to
see Marc - the boy was standing in an alcove in the
reception chamber, a silver chain tethering him by one
ankle to keep him there.  Although there was no danger
of his escape, the chain added a nice touch I thought,
emphasising the helplessness of him.  Taking me to one
side the major domo indicated that the fucking horse
was ready to be carried in when required, and that he
had plans to have Marc's balls squeezed suddenly, very
hard, as he was being carried to the horse so that he
would scream and cry, and struggle to break free from
the slaves who were holding him, in case they did it
again.  "I thought it would be exciting to see that
the boy was unprepared for what was a bout to happen,
and that his struggles would be a good prelude to the
way he would buck and scream when your cock entered
him", he confided.

"That will not be necessary.  Bring the boy in quietly
as it will heighten the mood of an innocent young man
who is about t be violated.  And it will not be
necessary to use the fucking horse - although he has
put on a lot of muscle in these past weeks, he's no
match for my power and I intend to take him without
mechanical restraints.  I'll throw him to the floor,
and then fuck him there:  it will be more spontaneous,
as the use of the horse is always a bit contrived, I
think."

The man muttered "Yes, sir", but it was in a kind of
sullen way as if he did not really agree with me, even
though I was a free man.  Had it not been for the
importance of the occasion for the Sheikh and we did
not want anything to go amiss, I'd have taken him out
and caned the incipient disobedience out of him.

As I was finishing my inspection the Sheikh came down.
 He stared at me for a moment and snapped "I gave
orders for you to wear a loincloth, did I not?"

"Sir, yes, sir, but...."

"The only 'butt' I want from you, Steve, is a proper
sight of yours as you provide tonight's entertainment.
 Now, do as I command."

"Highness, please...."

"If you are going to wilfully disobey me and
constantly dissemble, I may as well terminate your
employment.  I cannot run this estate with employees
in whom I have no trust."

I felt a lurch in my belly as he uttered these words.
I mean, I was earning a whole heap of money, and where
else would I find employment that enabled me to
exercise as much as I did, and enjoy a lifestyle where
all my needs were found in such a sumptuous place?  I
went to protest again, but could tell that the Sheikh
was in no mood for argument, and muttered instead "I
apologise, Highness.  I am only wearing these clothes
whilst I make sure all is in readiness for your
guests.  I will change later...."

"Be sure you appear at the reception, Steve, from the
start, dressed in the loincloth as I decided.  It is
part of the evening's spectacle for my guests to have
the pleasure of seeing an almost naked free man -
there is that something extra special about a free man
who is displaying himself for other men's enjoyment,
something that having a naked slave, however perfect
his physique, cannot match."

I nodded and said, as humbly as I could o assuage his
evident anger,  "Of course, Highness.  You will be
obeyed.", and then when he made a dismissive gesture,
turned and left.

Back in my room I stripped off and hung the hateful
piece of white satin in place, and again looked at
myself in a mirror.  Actually, I suppose I was pretty
stunning, and the thin chain did tend to emphasise the
power of my body, and the thin strip of white swinging
between my thighs emphasised just how flat my belly
was as it was slung so low.  If I'd been planning an
evening's fun with a guy I liked I might actually have
enjoyed wearing it to give him a bit of fun - but then
when I thought about all the Sheikh's guests staring
at me, and lusting after my flesh, and knowing that I
was being made to appear before them so provocatively
and humiliatingly, I began to get angry.  How could
the Sheikh humiliate me like this?  Perhaps I ought to
chuck it all in, take my accumulated back pay, and
return home and find a "proper" job.  But you get used
to an easy, quiet life with a comfortable routine,
don't you?  So with a sigh I made my way downstairs,
trying to hold my hands a little loosely in front of
me as I did so in a vain hope of making my humiliation
a little less severe.

In  the reception hall I tried to position myself in
an obscure corner, half hidden by one of the giant
plants in their ornate tubs that served as the room's
principal decoration.  I could see Marc standing there
in his alcove, fully exposed, though, and his
nakedness was emphasised by the spotlight that was in
the alcove that made him more brightly illuminated tan
the room itself.  Already the earlier arrivals were
clustering around him, and although they were not
touching him, I could tell from the way that their
hands were moving that they would like to and were
perhaps only waiting for the Sheikh's explicit
permission.  You could tell Marc was an expensive
property - white boys of his age, physique and beauty
were, after all, a great rarity, and the guests were
perhaps concerned that they might in some way "spoil"
such a treasure.

I scooped a glass of champagne off a passing waiter
(the Sheikh himself said he was religious and himself
observed the superstitions that went with it and
refrained from touching alcohol, but could see no
reason to deny his guests), and the slave whispered
conspiratorially to me "They're in high spirits
tonight, sir.  My butt's been fondled so many times as
I move around.  I reckon they're looking to fuck...."

"Be silent!", I snapped, and to emphasise my point I
lifted the back of his tunic and gave his butt a
resounding slap - well, I mean, you can't have slaves
commenting on the guests, whatever the guests do, can
you?

Unfortunately the sound of my palm against his bare
skin ricoched around the room, and attracted the
Sheikh's attention.  He beckoned me over to him, and
of course I had to go, conscious of all the eyes in
the room swivelling to look at my body as I strode
towards him.

"Excellent, Steve!  You are a delight to the eyes", he
told me.  "Do not deny my guests the pleasure of the
sight of your body - some of them may have slaves who
are muscled as you are, but it  is most unusual for
them to be rewarded by the sight of a free man
voluntarily exposing himself to their gaze.  So stop
skulking in the corners, and circulate and talk to my
guests - you know many of them, as they are regular
visitors here."

"Sir, yes, sir", I muttered, thinking to myself just
how "voluntary" this exposure was!

"Come, everyone", the Sheikh now said in a much louder
voice.  "I have an evening of surprises in store for
you.  Many of you have been admiring the young slave
so fetchingly displayed in the alcove, and now here is
Steve, who many of you will know as he is my chief
Overseer."

The Sheikh motioned me to come closer to him, and when
I stood by his side, he reached down and I felt his
hand running over my butt -  his fingers were smooth
and vaguely cool against my skin (I suppose I was
flushing with embarrassment, and a thin sheen of sweat
was covering me), but at the same time I was aware of
the large diamond ring he wore on his little finger.
"See", he continued, "This is a truly excellent
well-formed butt, one which we would all certainly
appreciate on one of our slaves.  But see - there is
no brand:  Steve is a free man, and is displaying
himself to you tonight as it pleases me for him to do
so."

Actually, I did wonder for a moment whether the Sheikh
was boasting about my butt, or was doing this to cause
all the men's eyes to look at his hand as it continued
to rest on me - he did perhaps want them to see the
magnificent diamond on his ring, a diamond worth many
millions and which he had commissioned the theft of
from an exhibition of the British crown jewels which
had been on tour in the USA.  All of these rich
powerful men had an interest in possessions and
display, and all would have been aware of the robbery,
and would therefore see that the Sheikh was unafraid
of the power of other nations.

He gave my butt a small pat to dismiss me, and
watched, so that all the others did to, as I took a
few paces away from him and unavoidably exposed my
cock as I moved.  I could hear murmurs of approval
coming from the men, and felt a hot flush of shame
spread up from my shoulders to my face at the thought
of being used in this way.

The start of the banquet was announced then, and to
some extend I began to feel a bit more comfortable -
the Sheikh's guests reclined on the low couches as the
slaves brought out one spectacular dish after another,
and I was able to sit in a corner, cross-legged in
front of one of the low tables, so that only my torso
was on view to the rest of the room.  Most of the
guests were soon so absorbed with the food, and with
fondling the slaves underneath their short tunics as
they served them, that they seemed mostly to forget
me.

My respite was relatively short lived, though, as of
course the Sheikh had not forgotten his intentions!
As the slaves were serving platters of assorted
sweetmeats which are the traditional end of such a
feast, he clapped is hands for silence and ordered
Marc to be brought into the centre of the room.

"My friends", he began once the excited chatter that
had arisen as Marc was put before them had stopped.
"My friends, it is a tradition in our country that
feasting should be followed by entertainment.  And for
your enjoyment tonight we have this young slave - he
is sixteen years old, and as you can see, on that
verge of full manhood.  I had him captured and brought
here after I had seen him during a foreign visit, and
as yet he is unspoiled:  he has been introduced to
some of the arts of sex, proper sex, that is, with
men, and he says that in his former life he had a girl
friend of whom he had carnal knowledge.  It is
symptomatic of the decadence of the West that a young
man like this should be despoiling those tender
flowers of womanhood whom the prophet says we should
revere, whilst at the same time was unaware of the way
that men should behave together!"

There were a lot of cries of "shameful" and
"disgraceful", and even stuff like "western
barbarians", until the sheikh raised his hand for
silence and then continued "But tonight, all that will
change.  He has never yet experienced the delights of
full sex with another man and is still an anal virgin,
and so now, here in front of you, he is going to
experience the male organ entering him for the first
time. "

There was a hubbub of noise again, now in approval,
and again the Sheikh had to signal for silence.  "I
had thought of having one of my stud niggas taken from
the breeding barns and put to him - they are all
chosen, as I expect yours are, for their physiques and
the power in their bodies to drive their cocks home
repeatedly.  It would perhaps be amusing to see a big
black stud force himself in to this white boy.  But I
expect you have seen similar entertainments before,
and may even use your own niggas for similar.  I wish
to entertain my guests with the exotic and rare, and
so instead  conceived of the idea of having another
white male perform this important introduction to
manhood with him."

I heard one of the younger, probably drunken,
princleings shout out "So one white slave fucks
another - big deal".     His friends tried to quieten
him, and I think he was lucky that the Sheikh took it
in good part as he smiled and continued "As my nephew
has so aptly stated, one white slave fucking another
might be entertaining - but I want this evening to be
special.  Consequently We are going to have the slave
deflowered not by a slave, but by a free man."

There were mutterings of excitement, and questioning,
from the audience, and after gesturing for quiet again
the Sheikh continued "Nothing special in that, you may
say - after all, which of us has not ritually taken
the virginity of a new slave ourselves?  But the
entertainment, gentlemen, is that instead of something
that a free man will do in the privacy of his own
chambers, this is to take place in public, right here
in front of you.  Some of us have seen such acts
between free men on DVD - another example of Western
decadence that men should disport themselves like that
for an audience, for money - but tonight my chief
overseer, Steve, is going to do it entirely
voluntarily, right here in front of you.  And I know
that many of you were looking at Steve admiringly
earlier, and so it will be a special pleasure to see
that magnificent body in action, performing that
special act that all men prize above all others."

Marc had been standing there in the middle of the room
as all this was going on, evidently wondering what was
happening as of course the Sheikh and his guests were
speaking in Arabic, and I have been translating the
sense of it for you.  He seemed to be trembling with
embarrassment, or anticipation, but as the Sheikh
gestured for me to get up and move to the centre of
the room, his demeanour changed.  A faint smile broke
out on his face, and I head him say "Steve, I'm so
glad you're here...."

He did of course, have no Arabic and therefore knew
nothing of the fate that awaited him.  I wondered if
he would be so happy to see me if he knew what I was
going to do to him in the next few minutes.

End Of Part Four