Four the Same

It was embedded, I thought - looked OK on my screen, but evidently one of those odd things that happen. Here it is (gay/male/authoritarian).... thanks, Pete

FOUR THE SAME by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Nine

I went up to the luxurious guest suite in a frenzy of excitement after I had made my "goodnights" to my host, and commiserated with him on the unpleasant task awaiting him. When I entered the room the five slaves were salaaming, and to my great joy I found that Darren had put his short tunic back on and was once again partially clothed, with his spine and ass exposed as he knelt there.

I sat on one of the huge, feather-filled couches, and called the lad over to sit beside me. As he sat down, the short tunic of course rode up, exposing the now 'skinned end of his penis to my gaze. I put my arm around him, and felt a kind of shudder go through him.

"What's the matter/ Are you afraid of me?"

"Sir, please. It's not too late. Help me get out of here... .the things they've done to me...."

"Nonsense, calm down. You will be happier if you accept what has happened to you, and that you are now a slave. The old Darren, the skateboarder from East London, is gone and will never return. You are a slave, my slave...."

"But they've branded me, cut my dick, tattooed me.... I've had to do disgusting things with these men...."

"Calm yourself. Accept the inevitable. You are a slave, and an owner needs to mark his property. There are in every society important rituals that we go through called 'rites of passage'. In our normal Western world they tend not to be very important, but they are there: getting a driver's licence; eighteenth birthday parties; graduation from high school or college.... Well, slaves have 'rights of passage', too, but they are even more important and significant. A man only understands that he is truly a slave, no longer his own free agent, when he feels his owner's mark on his body and knows that it is irrevocable. For your entire life, if you ever begin to doubt that you are my property, simply feel the brand on your arm, or on your buttock, and know that it tells the world that you are no longer a free man but a piece of owned property - MY property!"

As I had been saying this, my fingers had been tracing the brand on his bare arm, and my cock, which had already shot once this evening, was nevertheless showing many signs of arousal.

I let my arm wander down and began to stroke and caress the lad's penis and balls. I was rewarded by the delicious sensation of the silky softness of the sac now that it was shaved, and as my fingers spread and teased it, the lad started to moan faintly as I spread and examined the wonderfully firm, yet spongy, orbs inside. His cock became erect, and there's a special feeling, isn't there, when you're holding a man's balls and his cock stretched along the palm of your hand to that the tip nuzzles the sensitive pulse spot on the underside of your wrists? The more I teased and gently squeezed Darren's balls, the more his cock strained at its erection. Indeed, the warm pulse spot on my wrist was now covered with his pre-cum, and as the tip of his penis slid along this most sensitive part of me, my own erection responded with force against my constricting clothes.

I stopped, pushed Darren slightly away from me, and murmured, to encourage him, "That's not so bad, is it?

Now, let's take this silly tunic off you...."

Helping a man undress is one of life's little pleasures, I always find, and when the man is only wearing one garment, it doesn't take long! I helped Darren pull the light fabric up over his head, and then, in one smooth movement, I put my arm around his naked shoulders and pulled his body towards mine. That's another erotic thing I always find- of course I love the feeling of one another man's skin against me, but having a naked man rubbing against my clothed body is somehow very special. Not necessarily better than naked flesh, just excitingly different. Perhaps it's something to do with the idea that a clothed man is in charge, whilst the naked man is vulnerable. I don't really know. Anyway, having the lad naked against me gave me a further erotic charge, and I could now gently stroke his belly, feeling the hardening ridges of his new muscles enticingly under the surface, and moving upwards to gently tweak his nipples.

There's something very special about a man's nipples, I always think, On most of the beefy "blue collar" men I usually go with, the nipples are big and pronounced, and with a little stimulation become rock hard, jutting proudly upwards. Moving the palm of the hand over them then causes me pleasure, and is generally most agreeable to the man, too. But Darren's were still only the nipples of a lad not yet properly fully developed - they were hard and sharp even before I stroked them, and generally undersized for his body. I was nevertheless gratified to feel his body gently begin to move sensuously against me - I like a man to have responsive nipples, and so was glad that my slave was like this.

It was time now to explore the lad's training,, I thought. I put my hand behind his head, feeling the stiff brush of his cropped hair against my palm, and gently began to move it down, towards my crotch. He seemed to resist a little at first, but as his head got closer to the fly of my trousers, he began to give in and bent almost resignedly to what he knew was inevitable.

He didn't seem used to the concept of buttons on the fly of suit trousers! Odd, as so many Jeans these days seem to have them. But on hand-tailored Saville Row suits, they are of course the norm. He fumbled for some moments, then my cock felt the blessed relief as it forced its way through the fly of my boxers then thrust upwards via the opening in my trousers.

I didn't want to say anything, didn't want to disturb the atmosphere that was building, so I gently guided his body off from next to me on the couch so that he was kneeling between my outstretched legs. Now I once more used my hand to guide his head down on to me, and experienced for the first time his lips and tongue as they began to caress my cock.

Having your very own slave, a man that you own completely, begin to pleasure you is a simply indescribable experience. I had of course had many previous men attending to the needs of my cock with their mouths, but this time was special. Was it that I'd never had a sixteen year old do it to me? Was it his nakedness and my clothes? Was it the though that my cock was already covered in drying cum from my spontaneous ejaculation earlier, so that the lad must be tasting, even now, my seed? Or was it that I owned this man, this slave now worshipping my cock? He was mine, mine to command, mine to own, mine to do with exactly as I pleased, and he had no choice in the matter.

As he ministered to me my excitement mounted, so much so that I almost shot again. I knew that even with this intense stimulation I would be unable to cum three times that evening, so after a few minutes I put my hands on both sides of the lad's head and gently raised his face up off me.

"Good boy, Darren....", I said softly. "You've been learning, haven't you? Did you do this to the four slaves?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good... You've learned well. But do you remember what we did last time... Do you remember taking my cock up your ass? Well, it's time to do that again..."

"Please, sir, no..."

"Now, slave, don't be silly. Do you also remember how I had you spanked last time, when you tried to disobey me? Slaves do as their masters command, remember. Didn't the other slaves teach you that? "

The boy looked almost sheepish, and I knew that he understood what he needed to do, and had been "trying it on" to attempt to avoid the inevitable. I contemplated for a few moments having him spread out on the back of one of the slaves and spanked, or even caned, for his attempted insubordination, but I had a more pressing and urgent need to use his body in another way. Getting to my feet, I led him over to the giant bed and commanded him to kneel on the edge, then stood there as the four slaves clustered around me, helping me undress.

I stood between Darren's calves as he knelt there, and gently parted his buttocks. His pink pucker was now clearly visible, the fine rim of hairs that had been there last time having been cleared away. His balls seemed more prominent, too, hanging there without their protective thatch, and as my finger went to tease his sphincter, one of the four slaves coughed, politely.

"Yes, slave?"

"Sir, the slave has been prepared for you, sir. He is cleaned out, stretched, and lubricated. But of course if you require additional work done on him, to ease his passage for your member..."

I shook my head, and began to play the end of my cock up and down his ass crack as I had done before, relishing the excitement that coursed through me. I would have enjoyed doing this for a very long time, but did not believe I could hold out, so I positioned myself at his entrance, and pushed in.

It wasn't all that easy. In spite of the lubrication and stretching that had evidently gone on, the boy was still not experienced at taking cock, and there was a lot of unnecessary noise and shouting as I forced my way in and buried myself up to the hilt. He calmed down, though, as I began my rhythmic pistoning in and out of him, and his cries did that thing that is always so pleasing - they synchronised with my thrusts, so that we were in complete harmony.

Afterwards I pulled him close to me as I lay in the bed, still breathing hard. I'd been amused to see that as soon as I'd pulled out of him one of the slaves had rushed up and begun to clean my cock with his tongue, whilst another knelt behind Darren's naked ass and proceeded to lick traces of my semen away from his hole - having these four slaves around to perform little services like this dramatically added to the overall feeling of eroticism, and I began to wish that I owned more than just a single slave.

"So, Darren.... You've been educated. But not in taking your master's cock. We'll remedy that as time goes on, until you begin to properly appreciate the feeling of my hot cock inside you - there can be few greater pleasures for a slave - well, for a man, actually - than to feel a cock sliding in and out of him. But don't you know this - when you were being trained, did you not get to fuck other slaves?"

"No, sir. They taught me the eight ways to masturbate another man, and how to please a man by taking his cock in my mouth, and down my throat. But they had been told that you wanted to train me to take your cock, sir, and so they didn't bother any further."

"But you've lived with these four slaves, I believe. Don't they fuck each other? Didn't they fuck you? Or let you fuck them?"

"Oh yes, sir. I've often watched them fucking. But of course they didn't touch me, as they knew of your prohibition. And they'd never let me fuck them - they call me 'kid', and say I'm too young. And, anyway, they say that they only really enjoy other proper grown man dicks."

"So would you like to try fucking, Darren? Would you like to see why I want to use your ass? Yes, I think I'll have you fuck one of these slaves do that you are better able to understand what I am doing to you. Is there one of them in particular you want to fuck?"

"Sir, Matt, sir!"

The four slaves were now standing in a line close to the bed. I thought I saw one of them flinch slightly as the lad said this, but it was only the merest tiny unconscious movement, not enough to warrant a punishment..

"Which one is that?", I asked him. "I can't tell them apart."

"Oh I can, sir. It's easy..."

I thought that there must be very small differences between the men that only someone who lived with them could appreciate. I thought of asking him about this, as it would be a trick to amuse my host the next time, if I could identify his supposedly "identical" slaves.

"So how do you do that, Darren?"

"Oh,. It's easy, sir, they all smell differently!"

""No, you're not telling the truth, boy! They must all smell the same - they live together, bathe together with the same soap, and all of you eat the same slave chow. There's no way that their bodies can end up smelling differently. Now, tell me the truth, before I get one of them - any one of them - to spank you!"

"No, sir! I'm not lying. It's true...."

"Well, we'll have a test. And if I do find you're lying, I will not only have you spanked, but will personally cane you."

I'd noticed on my previous visit that there was a well-equipped study area in a far corner of the room, and now I strode over there, enjoying the sensation of the utter freedom my nakedness bought to me. I rummaged around on the desk, and found one of those marker pens you normally use for writing presentations on flip charts, and came back. Darren was half sitting, half lying, on the bed, watching intently as I went up to the first of the four slaves and demanded to know his name, I used the marker pen to "simulate" the tattooing that regular slaves had of their names on to his pecs, then repeated this on each of the four slaves - as I believe I've mentioned, these four did not bear the normal slave tattoos, to keep them all exactly alike.

I pulled Darren's skimpy tunic down on his head, and used the ends to tie it as if it were a blindfold. Taking him by the arm, I led him around the room and convinced myself he could not see out at all - it was quite amusing, actually, as I led him towards one of the huge floor cushions, and he stumbled and fell into it, so I was certain.

I then "shuffled" the slaves around in their line, so that he could not possibly know which one was in which position, and then brought him over to face them. Holding his wrists behind his back so that he couldn't use his fingers to get any sensation from their skins, I told him to begin.

He knelt, then shuffled along on his knees in front of the four slaves, leaning forward to take deep breaths from their genital areas. Then he recited "Steve, Ray, Matt, Marc". I looked at the names that I had scrawled on the slaves, and saw that he was indeed correct.

I undid the blindfold, and he saw me laughing. "You were right, Darren - so you get to fuck, without being punished. Now, it was Matt you said you wanted, wasn't it?"

I took the slave by his arm, and pushed him down onto the bed, on his back. "Grip your ankles!", I commanded him, and watched as his muscular body curled up, his buttocks spread apart, and the dark brown of his hole was revealed. I snapped my fingers to indicate that one of the lounging chairs should be drawn up, then settled into it, before commanding Darren to position himself between the slave's thighs, and begin.

Actually, I always enjoy seeing one man fucking another, and I like to watch it from behind: there's something really exciting, I find, in seeing the thrust of the buttocks in and out, the way that the muscles in the thighs and calves all stretch and contract, and the sight of the man's back bent forwards. Now, seeing my own, young slave thrusting away between the muscular thighs of this older slave, I was entranced.

Like all the young, though, he could not control his body and the spectacle lasted for only a very short time. I could see his thrusts getting longer and harder, then, in that appealing way that only a man who is truly enjoying it can do, his head went back, his hips thrust forwards one last convulsive time, and he gave a great shout of "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ....!" Then his whole body seemed to spasm, and his buttocks jerked convulsively two or three times more and my imagination supplied me with the feeling he must be experiencing as his after-shots spurted out of him.

I was amused to see that in spite of not having any experience, he did what you would expect after a fuck, and collapsed forward on to the chest of the muscular slave. The slave reacted very badly, I thought: he should have gripped Darren, with his legs around the lad's waist, to show that he enjoyed still having the cock buried in him, but he just lay there. I had half a mind to punish him for his sullen attitude, but I wanted to sleep and knew that a caning of the slave would give me even more erotic thoughts and make it more difficult to rest.

So after Darren had had his cock cleaned, I took him into my arms in the bed, and ordered the slaves to turn out the lights.

The following morning there was no time for further excitement, and as I breakfasted with the Sheikh I recounted to him the incident of Darren being able to scent the slaves and identify them.

"I have a tiny problem, anyway, my fiend, that you have brought to my attention. Although these slaves are externally identical, there are differences in their genes and basic biochemistry as they are not true quadruplets. Even after all this time, my cousin still is upset about the stunning victory I scored over him with these four, compared with his identical twins. I have heard rumours that he has been trying to infiltrate spies into the palace to collect DNA samples, but if a test based just on scent alone is possible, his task will be so much easier!"

We laughed and talked on, but it did occur to me that in this life, everyone has problems, everyone has worries. The Sheikh's concerns and worries might be very different from my own, and very different, I suppose, from those of the slaves whose lives he ruled so absolutely. But, never the less, they were, to him, just as important.

THE SLAVE'S STORY

It was really stupid of young Darren to select Matt as his fuck. Firstly, there's been that long-time antagonism between them, for reasons none of us quite understand. It started almost on day one, and really showed up when Matt took charge of Darren's cock-sucking training and used the collar, rather than gentle persuasion. Perhaps Darren thought he was getting a little revenge, but that's just fucking dangerous with a big strong guy like Matt! Secondly, of course, Matt doesn't like to take dick at all really. I'm sure I've told you that he and I generally like to "top", whereas Marc and Ray don't mind taking it - it works out well, as we all get what we like.

Normally we are so alike that when we're with a client we can arrange it so that if the client wants to be fucked either Matt or I does it, and if he wants to fuck slave ass, then we supply Ray or Marc. Even if the client thinks he's picked out the one he wants to use, we manage to fool them just by changing places when they're not looking! They really can't tell, and I think it's best for them, actually, as they get really enthusiastic participation from us. Of course, if we were ever found out and a client complained, there'd be hell to pay - but, in a way, that makes it just that bit more exciting for all of us.

With our names written on our bodies, though, no such deception was possible, and I knew Darren could anyway tell which of us he was fucking. I could see the look of fury that passed across Matt's face when Darren announced his choice, and when he realised that he was going to be taken "missionary", so that we could all watch his expressions, it must have been even worse for him.

There was nothing Matt could do about it, of course, as to disobey the master's orders would have resulted in all of us being whipped, or worse, and so he had to just lie there and take it, as Darren ploughed into him. I mean, I think Matt was being stupid, actually, as with a lusty young guy like Darren, the whole thing was over almost as soon as it had begun. And it's not as if Matt isn't used to being fucked - in spite of his preferences, it does happen, you know, especially when we've all been taking part in some big orgy or other. So he could have accepted it with good grace, and I don't think it wad very nice for the kid at the end when Matt basically ignored him, and didn't hug him, or wrap his legs around the kid to hold him in, or anything.

The next day was scary, actually. Once the master had got up and bathed with Darren, and dressed and left, all five of us were alone. Before we could stop him Matt pounced on Darren and started to really slap him around, grabbing him by an arm whilst using his other hand to slap the kid's ass, then throwing him down on to the ground and starting to kick at him with his bare feet. It was a much as the rest of us could do to pull Matt off him - he lashed out at us as we tried to intervene, and even poor Ray got punched in the fracas. It was jolly lucky that none of us was seriously hurt or damaged - we were kind of expected to be bruised and so on occasionally, as some masters might be hard with us, so a few surface problems could be explained away. But if we'd broken an arm or a leg, or even damaged any of the furniture, then incredibly severe punishments would have been handed out to all of us.

As it was, even when Matt had seemed to calm down, he still wasn't happy - and that night, in our cell, he took Darren hard. This had never happened before as we had been told we were not to fuck the lad as his master wanted him saved, and, as far as we knew, this prohibition still held. But when we tried to stop him, all Matt said was "Look, his master fucked him last night. So I'm going to fuck him now- no one will be able to tell whether the stretching of his ass is caused by his owner, or by me!"

There was no way, short of having a major fight, that we could do anything about it in the cramped cell, so Matt just got on with it. He had Darren on his knees, with one of Matt's big arms around his waist, holding his ass up into the air, then just fucked him. When Darren started to cry out and complain, Matt's other hand at once went over his mouth to stifle the cries, and all we could hear was the slap, slap, slap of Matt's body slamming into Darren, Darren's muffled cries of protest, and Matt's triumphant sounds as he climaxed.

Darren spent the rest of the night cuddled up against me, and I thought he was going to cry because he was hurt, mentally if not physically. Instead, he whispered "Is this is what being a slave is like, Steve?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Some of the guys you'll be put with will be really rough and tough with you, just as Matt was then. But some of them will be kind, and gentle, and then you'll really enjoy it."

"How do you mean, Steve?"

"Well, do you remember when we were teaching you to suck dick? You didn't like it when Matt kept forcing himself down your throat, did you - when he held you onto his dick with the training collar? But then, afterwards, when the rest of us taught you how nice it is to lick a dick, to kiss it, to rub your lips all over it - that's fun isn't it?"

"I guess so..."

"Well, the rest of sex is like that. If you're a free man, you can choose how to do it. But as a slave you have to go along with what your master wants. So if your master wants to be hard and cruel, as Matt just was, you've just got to accept it. But most masters just want to feel the hot muscles of an attractive slave against them, and to enjoy the slave's skilled attentions to them. When it's like that, it can be pretty good."

"But you like fucking, don't you, Steve? You don't like taking anyone else's dick up you, do you?"

"No, Darren. I don't. I like fucking. But if I have to, then I don't have any choice, do I, as a slave? So I've learned to accept it, ad understand that it doesn't go on for very long."

"Well, perhaps I'm like you then, Steve."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't much like being fucked by my master. And I hated Matt taking me as he did. But when I was fucking Matt yesterday, it felt fantastic... You know, when I was thrusting in and out of him, I was in control, I was using his body to enjoy myself...."

"Well I guess it is a bit like that for me, Darren. And if we were free guys, we could always choose to fuck like that. But we're not - we're slaves, and we don't have any choice. So you just have to learn to accept it...."

"Can I fuck you, Steve?"

"What?"

"Steve, please... I want to try fucking another guy. Can't we do it now...?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I told you - I don't take dick. Now, get to sleep, or else I might follow Matt's example, and fuck you...."

"Oh, come on, Steve... Pretend I'm a master and you have to let me fuck you..."

Well, this conversation could have gone all night, and there was just no way I was going to let him fuck me, was there? But he was so horny - his dick was stabbing into me, and something had to be done. So I threw one arm around him to stop him getting away, then called to Marc to come and wank him! As you know, Marc's always ready for a bit of a laugh, so as I held Darren's wriggling body, Marc wrapped his big fist around Darren's dick and jerked him off. No harm done - except to Darren's pride, I suppose.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't looking forward to the next few weeks, as it didn't seem that Matt and Darren would get on well as they used to. But the following morning, our lives took a turn for the worst! We'd always known, I suppose, that we'd be sold one day. I mean, there's usually a limited life for a slave who works in the pleasure rooms as the clients get tired of seeing the same old bodies. We'd had a good run - more than five years, I guess, and we'd always talked about what might happen to us then.

We knew that our master was the ruler and the richest guy by far in the place, and I think we imagined that he'd send us off to the auction rooms and we'd e bought by someone else for his enjoyment. Or, perhaps, we might be sold to one of the brothels we'd heard about in the city. In a way, grim though that prospect was, it seemed it might be preferable - a brothel would be able to buy all four of us, whereas a private person wouldn't: even if he could afford it, he wouldn't want to be seen to be competing with our master, we reckoned. So the best we could hope for in a private sale was that we might be sold as two pairs, and we reckoned then that if we were careful, we might manage to be split in the way we wanted: me and Marc, and Matt and Ray. Actually, if Matt was going to carry on behaving in the way he had, I wouldn't have been that sorry to see the back of him!

Anyway, that morning, instead of going down to the exercise yards and rooms, we were simply told to report to the palace loading bay as we were to be shipped out. And that was it! No goodbyes, nothing. Five years of our lives, and it was all over, just like that. Well, I suppose we had no "stuff" to pack, as we didn't own anything - not even a stitch of clothing. All we had was the skin we stood up in, so I suppose we were the ultimately easy-to-move people!

We all kind of hugged each other as we stood on the loading bay. In spite of what I'd thought about Matt, it's hard to say goodbye to a buddy you've lived with, worked with, and fucked with for five years, isn't it?

And Marc was close to tears, as it was by no means certain that we were going to be able to pull off our plan to keep together as two pairs. This fucking slavery was so cruel, so unjust - four guys who really liked each other, who were real fuck buddies, were going to have their lives torn apart just because our owner had tired of us! It was all so fucking unfair: they shouldn't treat men like this. But then, of course, we were not men - we were slaves, mere chattels of our owner, who could do as he liked with us.

A truck eventually drew up - it looked just like a delivery truck you used to see when we were free men all over the place, just delivering boxes and stuff to small businesses. The doors opened, and we were herded inside - there was a neat row of manacles along one wall, and one of the guards simply fastened us in.

We barely got to see the outside of the palace that had been our home for five years as we sped away, and we were so unhappy, so very unhappy, believing that this was the last time that we'd all be together.

It became clear, however, that we were not heading for the slave markets - these were in the downtown area, and as we pulled up the ramp on to the country's one major motor road, we saw that we were heading out of town. We bumped along, and after an hour of driving through the empty desert countryside, Marc suddenly said "Oh no! You see what this means, don't you? They're sending us to the mines!"

He sat there then, his head sunk in his hands, and I put my arm around his shoulders to try to comfort him.

"Hey, Marc, is can't be all that bad - at least we'll all be together...."

"But you don't know, Steve, what it's like..."

"Hey, it can't be all that bad. I've heard the stories, sure, about how no one ever comes back., But after all they want us for the work we can produce, so they're not going to treat us all that badly.... And we'll be together, as I said. We're used to working out, so doing real work will be just the same...."

"No, Steve, you don't understand!"

End Of Part 9