THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, PART 13
By Master Redbeard The rest of the summer
This story involves erotic situations and actual sexual contact between males - as well as humiliation, exhibition, and much of the usual stuff for this genre. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or whatever legal age is where you are) go away now! If you are offended by the content of this story go away now! If you are in a jurisdiction in which it is illegal to read or possess such fiction stories go away now (well, it would be better if you could get the hell away from that jurisdiction). And if you are someone who cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, please go away and get some help.
I welcome reader response (no flames). Include name of the story in title line. You can reach me at email address below.
THE FATE OF A POOR MAN'S SON, chapter 13
By Master Redbeard (redbeardedsf at yahoo dot com)
Which is worse physical pain or dehumanizing degradation? Not that anyone ever gave me a choice. I was subjected to both. When I woke up to daylight the morning after the captain's party, I felt the blinding pain from my recently circumcised penis. But I knew that just a few hours earlier, when I was tossed onto the pool table for hours of sexual abuse, I wasn't even aware of the searing pain from the surgical procedure.
Rye was beside me wiping my forehead with a damp cloth when I awoke. I looked around disoriented. I was in the small cage where Rye and I slept. He put the nipple of a water bottle to my lips and encouraged me to drink. "It has vitamins and also an analgesic for the pain." Then he told me I could stay in bed. "Until your circumcision heals you only have to work a few hours a day," he assured me.
As I sucked on the nipple of the water bottle I found myself thinking how kind my masters were. I was a slave, after all. Any master would expect a full day of hard labor from every slave. But my masters were allowing me extra time to rest.
Then my brain rebelled at the thought. They were allowing me just a few extra hours to try to recuperate from the pain caused by the circumcision they had forced upon me, the knife wielded by the sadistic man whom I had once looked up to when he was my high school coach, a crowd of dirty old men looking on and reveling in my agony. I tried to feel anger at my masters for all they'd put me through. But I continued sucking on the water bottle and before I could fully form the thought I was once again asleep.
For the next three days, although there was a lot of work to do cleaning up and dismantling the remnants of the big party, I wasn't made to do any work around the grounds. I also wasn't called upon for sexual service. My only duties were helping Rye in the bathing and grooming of other household slaves. Meanwhile, Rye was solicitous in changing the bandages and putting ointment on my surgically-scarred penis. At one point he softly told me that the same thing had been done to him, also in front of an audience, except he had been even younger when his foreskin was removed. But when I asked questions about his experience, he refused to discuss it further.
On the fourth day things were back to normal - well as normal as they'd be for me as a slave on the Winston estate. Within another week I had an all-over tan from working around the grounds nude. I lost track of which nights I serviced the captain and which nights I serviced Brad. It was only when both the father and older brother were out of the house that Randy dared to have me come to his room. My sessions fucking Randy's ass were so different from anything I experienced with the other Winston men I knew they had to be kept secret.
As weeks went by I also began developing friendly relationships with some of the other slaves, the ones I was frequently shaving and cleaning. One boy named Scott was just a year older than me. He had dark eyes and dark hair and a lean swimmer's body. It turned out Scott had also been on his school's swim team and we had both been at the state championships two years earlier. Scott's father had a gambling problem and the boy was philosophical about the fact that he had been enslaved because of the older man's debts.
It seems Scott had been the captain's favorite prior to my arrival and the dark-eyed swimmer was grateful that I had provided a break from his sexual services. But when I was recuperating from my circumcision, Scott was pulled back into daily service. After that, the captain and Brad rotated between me, Scott and a few other boys for their pleasure.
One night Scott came down from the captain's rooms at a very late hour. Rye and I joked with him about having endured a long fucking session, but Scott shook his head. He whispered that the captain had fallen asleep with his fat cock deep inside the slave boy's ass. When the captain woke up, he pushed Scott out of his bed and sent him on the way, so Scott had experienced hours of being filled with a thick cock, but virtually no fucking.
I'm not sure how the conversation turned the way it did, but soon enough Scott was bent over and guiding my erection into his already-spread asshole. Rye had explained that if any slave had fucked Scott before the boy's session with the captain there would have been hell to pay (and at least one slave flayed with a whip). But after a boy left the captain's chambers, any slave was welcome to "sloppy seconds."
As my hard cock slid easily into Scott's ass, I looked down at his broad shoulders and tapered torso. I remembered seeing him in his Speedos competing in the state swimming championships. I had been a Speedo-clad underclassman in the same competition where he was a senior. But now we were both slave boys - sex slaves to be exact.
Scott's ass gripped my cock firmly. I was a little surprised he wasn't more stretched out, but I suppose the hole and chute beyond it are elastic and had snapped back into shape. I was afraid I would shoot my load too quickly, but I took a few deep breaths and then plunged in. In the back of my mind a little voice was protesting, "I'm straight!" But that voice was soon drowned out by the squishy rhythm of my quickly sliding cock.
When I came deep inside Scott I was able to forget for a moment that I was a slave. I was a teenage boy with a hard cock that was pulsating and shooting cream deep into a tight hole. Then my head cleared. I looked down and saw Scott's SIN number tattooed across his ass cheek. I saw Scott's collar reflecting the ceiling lights. I looked to the side and saw Rye stroking his cock. At that moment, Rye's sperm landed all over my chest and Scott's back.
The following night when I was called to the captain's rooms, I found him watching his widescreen television. He grinned at me and then looked back at the screen. The image of me fucking Scott was larger than life. I couldn't blame Scott. He had only been following orders, as any slave must. He had been told to make sure I fucked him up the ass. He had even been told exactly where in the slave bathing room it should be done for the best camera angles.
Of course the captain didn't know that I had already fucked his younger son Randy a half dozen times. As far as my master knew, my experience with Scott was the first time I fucked a boy up the ass - also the first time I had ever fucked. Knowing how deadly it would be if the secret of my sessions dominating the submissive Randy was ever revealed, I went along with Captain Winston's assertion that Scott had been my first fuck.
That was the night when the captain's verbal humiliation of me hit a new level. Actually, the captain made me the tool of my own verbal humiliation. I had a lot of new phrases to learn. From that day forward I would be a "queer pussyboy," "hot for throbbing man meat," with a "dick-hungry cunt" and a "cocksucking homo mouth." I learned to sound convincing as I told the captain (and soon enough Brad) that I was "made to service real men" like them and that I "need to be fucked hard and long and to worship free man pricks."
Although I had only been a slave for a few weeks, I took this latest round of humiliation in stride. Being ordered to swallow my master's piss was the same as being ordered to scrub the bathroom floor with a small handheld brush. It was all part of my humiliating duties.
In fact after leaving the captain's room that night I made plans to reassure Scott the following day that I didn't hold any grudge against him. He had offered me his ass to fuck, it turned out, only on orders from our master. But none of us had any choice. In fact, I found it oddly amusing.
The following morning when I awoke I took inventory and doublechecked for cleanliness in the bathing room. The large windows of that room looked out on a broad driveway that was only used for deliveries to the slave barracks or through the slave entrance to the house.
There was an open-backed truck parked in the driveway. I looked out and saw a cage on the truck with Scott inside it facing the window. His hands were cuffed to the back of his collar and he was chained within the cage so that he couldn't move his body. There was a ballgag in his mouth, the kind with holes in it so a slave can still breathe.
I was stunned, frozen on the spot. Rye entered and grabbed me by the arm to see what was wrong. Then he looked out the window and saw what I'd reacted to. He urged me to turn away. I stammered, "B-but I thought the captain l-liked Scott. Did Scott do anything wrong?"
Rye rubbed my neck and softly said, "I heard some talk that the captain was going to give a gift to seal a business contract. I guess that Japanese industrialist liked Scott." Rye urged me to get back to work. I kept glancing at Scott in the truck. How many hours did they need to keep that truck parked right in that spot? At one point I thought Scott had made eye contact with me through the window and I raised my hand in a thumb's up sign to him. I wasn't sure if I saw tears in Scott's eyes or just a glassy expression. Finally the truck drove away.
"You've heard the phrase 'You can't be friends with a slave,' right?" Rye asked, putting an arm around my shoulders. "That's not only true for free men. Between slaves - well, you never know when your master may sell you or lease you or give you away or simply move you somewhere else."
I wrapped my arms around Rye and hugged myself so tight against his large body. I had lost so much. I lost my father and my brother. I lost my friends and my education. I lost the respect of everyone in my hometown and I'd lost all respect for myself. I lost my freedom. With all that loss, Rye had come to mean a great deal to me. But I knew he was right. I knew I could easily lose him based on the whims of our masters.
That night I was fucked by the captain and gave a quick blowjob to Brad. When I returned to the small cage I shared with Rye, I snuggled up against him. It was our habit to masturbate each other. Often we would suck each other as well. But on this night I turned my back to him. I reached behind me and took hold of his erect cock sliding it in my ass crack. Rye kissed me on the neck and asked, "Are you sure, Wally?" I simply pushed my ass back against him.
I had been fucked so many times on the order of my masters, but now I was freely offering my ass. I invited Rye to fuck me that night and it was great. He started off by taking me from behind. Then he flipped me on my back. He fucked me face-to-face, kissing and caressing me in a loving way. I gave myself to him as if we were lovers. I suppose, in a way, we were lovers.
That night I slept very peacefully. Rye had been telling me that slaves needed to learn to live in the moment. I put everything out of my mind. I forced myself to forget that at any time Rye and I could be separated and I would never see him again. I just enjoyed that moment, feeling his strong arms holding me against his powerful chest.
One week blended into the next as the summer progressed. I had lost all track of the date or days of the week. What did it matter what day it was? I was still a slave.
Then one night as I was being cleaned inside and out, Rye told me that I would be providing after dinner entertainment for the captain's guests. I looked at Rye, swallowed hard and asked, "What does that mean?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes. He kept very busy as he explained that I would be given a costume to wear, that there would be other slaves, and that he would narrate a story for us to act out. "B-but, w-what kind of story?" I blurted out.
"I don't know that, Wally," he said calmly. "And even if I did know I couldn't tell you."
Clad in only my white slave briefs, Rye led me to a backstage area. I looked through a curtain. There was a well-lit stage with comfortable chairs, couches and divans forming a semi-circle in front of it.
I was startled by the appearance of two enormous ebony pony slaves beside me. I had to crane my neck to look up since each of them was at least a foot taller than me. One black pony grinned down at me while the other one remained expressionless. The smiling pony said, "I am Tar and my buddy here is called Pitch. Don't mind Pitch. He got his vocal chords cut so I do all the talking."
There was a musical lilt to Tar's voice that told me he was from Africa. I had never seen skin so black as on these two towering figures. If their size and color wasn't enough to be intimidating, each was decorated all over with geometric tattoos and what appeared to be cuttings in their flesh. Each of them wore a mesh pouch that could barely contain their oversized genitals.
"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to stare."
Tar let out a hearty laugh and Pitch opened his mouth as if laughing, even though no sound was emitted. But then Tar became very serious. He moved close to me and talked softly as he said, "Look, boy, we are not bad men. But there are things we will do out there... to play out the scene...."
"Then you know what scene the captain wants us to play?"
"It changes each time, boy. At least the costume and the characters change. Oh, sometimes he'll repeat a favorite scene. But... well... all the scenes end up with..." Tar looked at Pitch and then looked back to me. He didn't need to finish the sentence. I knew that, for the entertainment of the captain's dinner guests, I was going to be raped by the two Africans. I had been fucked plenty of times. But as I looked at the pouches each of these slaves wore, my mouth went dry. Each black cock looked literally as thick around as my arm.
Pitch tapped his partner on the shoulder and made some movements with his hands. Tar turned back to me and said, "Please also remember that for us... well, we are kept with the other ponies, all big brutes like us. These entertainments for the captain are the only times we get to be with someone... to be with a boy like you, so tender and young and pretty." Pitch's fingers moved down my arm sensually. A tingling went through me and I automatically pulled away.
It was as if they were waiting for me to say something. But what could I say? Tar continued, "One time the captain had Scott dress up in a gym uniform from his old high school. We were each dressed in sweats like we were coaches. There were lockers and benches on the stage." Pitch made some gestures at Tar who nodded and went on, "The most humiliating was when we were supposed to be African natives, some kind of cannibals...." I could tell from the way he spoke that Tar was well educated. But all that education didn't matter now. He was a pony slave.
Rye came backstage and handed each of us our outfits. I was given a grey prison uniform, including grey boxer shorts. Pitch would be dressed the same. Tar was given dark grey slacks with a light grey shirt and a black tie. He was even given black shoes and striped boxer shorts to wear as well as a guard's cap. It was clear that Pitch and I were going to be prisoners while Tar would play the role of a prison guard.
Rye whispered to me explaining that he would be reading the story and it was up to the three of us to act out the scene. "You're allowed to speak as long as it's in character." There was sadness in his eyes as he turned away and went out onto the stage.
I heard Rye's voice starting the scene. "There was a boy who got in trouble with the law. He was so young and cute but he had a free boy attitude, typical of many spoiled brat teenagers. So the guard at the county jail decided to teach the boy a lesson." (Yes, the script had definitely been written by Captain Winston!)
Tar's powerful hand was on my neck leading me onto the stage. I glanced out at the audience. There was Mr. Blank - I used to baby-sit for his twin sons. Beside him was Coach Baker, the head of the athletic program at my high school and the man who had performed my circumcision.
Then I looked around the stage. There were two cots and a wall of bars behind them, as if this was a prison cell - well actually it looked more like a stage set of a prison cell. Pitch stood watching as Tar pushed me into the mock cell. I looked from one to the other.
The three of us acted out the scene as Rye read through it. I was ordered to show my ass and begged the black men not to make me do it. When I was bent over and my hairless cheeks revealed, there were cheers from the men in the audience. Those evil pigs in the town! They were cheering and laughing and encouraging my rape!
Granted, we were playing out a scene, but soon enough it became all too real for me. Those African cocks were half again as large as any cocks I'd had before. It was very real as I tried to push Pitch away from my mouth. Why was I even expending the effort trying to push the man away? He weighed twice what I did, with muscles more powerful than my scrawny body could hope to develop. It was hopeless. And yet I suppose there is a survival instinct. Barely half his cock went down my throat and I gagged fully believing I would choke on it.
That was nothing compared to the scream I let out when Tar's thick black tool went all the way into my asshole. I was howling and sobbing, "Take it out. Please, I can't take it." I turned in the direction of the audience. In between my sobs, I saw that men were rubbing their erections, laughing and snickering with each other. My pain and degradation was a turn on for these bastards!
Finally my ordeal came to an end. The audience applauded enthusiastically. Tar and Pitch pulled me to my feet to face the free men who had enjoyed our performance. Tears were still streaming down my cheeks as the captain announced, "Well, needless to say the boy's asshole won't be much fun to us normal-sized men" (chuckles from the audience). "But his throat should be nicely warmed up."
Rye led me offstage into the audience and Coach Baker was the first to shove his cock in my mouth. It took him less than two minutes to feed his load of cum down my throat. I figured he had been very aroused at seeing me raped onstage. As he pulled his cock out of me, Coach Baker called to the captain, "Hey, if you ever decide to redo that locker room scene with Wally here as the star, I could play the coach and make it real authentic." Then he laughed at his own joke.
I lost count of how many cocks I sucked that night. But when everyone else was done and most of the guests had departed, I was dragged by my collar to a back corner of the big room. I could smell the man as we approached. I could hear the ugly rasp of his breathing. I didn't need to glance up. I knew that the mountain of flesh filling up the big chair was Judge Snow. His stomach was round as a globe and protruded. His thighs were massive. Yet somehow he managed to spread his legs and lean his body back so that his hard cock stuck up stiff in front of me.
The huge man was pulling his hairy balls out of his fly. He grabbed my collar and pushed my face to his fat testicles. I started licking and had to use all my willpower to keep from gagging. Did this man ever shower? There was a sour smell from his crotch. And my tongue seemed to be licking up layers of cheesy sweat from his balls. Judge Snow wheezed loudly and he had a laugh that was more of a cackle.
For an instant I wondered how a man in such poor health could sport such a stiff erection. But then I remembered Rye's warning - there were so many pills that men could take these days to keep their erections for as long as they liked. That must have been the case with the judge.
My lips were going numb from moving up and down his pole when the judge finally grunted and his cock pulsed a few times. There was just a trickle of watery cum in my mouth, but I slurped loudly and made a big show of swallowing. Rye had also taught me that men like these needed their egos boosted especially when other men were watching. I pretended to be choking on a volume of spunk that did not exist. Then I slid my mouth off the old man's cock, licked it clean, and put it away. The room was quiet. I sensed I was done for the night.
The judge wheezed and coughed and then said, "Captain, you'll have to loan me this little one. He's so slim and looks so young. He's a real delight."
Captain Winston offhandedly remarked, "Sorry, chum, but I actually bought the boy for Brad as a campus frat house slave. I'm afraid this will be his only performance with us before being shipped off to the university."
Slaves are never told anything about their master's plans. I'm sure that when Scott was chained up in that cage he had no advance warning and he had no idea what fate held in store for him. But I had just learned what was in store for my future. I remembered Brad and the captain both saying that I was Brad's property.
All my life I had dreamed about going away to college or university. I had counted the years and months. I had worked so hard to get good grades and to excel at sports in hopes that I might get to a high-class university where I'd mingle with the sons of the rich and powerful. It was August now. This would have been the time when I would have become a college freshman. Well, I was going away to a fancy university after all. I would live in the coolest frat house at that university with college guys who were destined to become leaders of our country. But I would be there as a slave to scrub their toilets and suck their cocks.