"Mandrasat" is a continuing work of adult fiction; any similarity to persons, places, or events present or past is unintended and purely coincidental.
-0-
"I think," Hassan answered humorously, "we will pay great attention to his lower belly muscles, his abdominals. As they become more powerful, you, my dear Zarak, will instruct him on their use in giving the greatest pleasure to his future master as he fucks his cock up his ass."
"Even now, in his underdeveloped state," Zarak commented blandly, "his abdominals have provided me with most pleasurable fucks. I can but imagine what ecstasy awaits as you, my dear Hassan, create a passageway of thick, grinding muscles for me to plow."
Both overseers laughed heartily, then Zarak stepped across the room to where Bret sat, under the shower, astride the Nubian's ass.
"Get up, slave," he barked. "Clean yourself; Master Kasim is waiting for your return."
Bret nodded his head abjectly and slowly moved off the Nubian's body, sliding his cock free from his hole. He bent over to pick up the block of soap lying next the Nubian's head; suddenly, the Nubian grabbed Bret's wrist, and, rolling on his side, attempted to pull him down on top of himself.
Zarak responded instantly with a ferocious kick to the Nubian's ribs.
"Do not interfere with my orders, you fucking slave, or I will have you skinned alive."
Kicking him a second time, he raged, "do you understand me!"
Crying out in pain and shaking his head furiously, the Nubian howled and groaned, rolling himself into a ball.
Zarak was beginning to show the signs of stress and anger at the steel mesh chastity pouch Shareem obliged him to wear. Never had a day gone by since he received his overseer's gold rings that he had not taken malicious delight in repeatedly fucking some auction slave's butt hole and mouth hole. Now, in addition to his enforced abstinence, his tackle was constantly pinched and scraped by the steel mesh, squeezed as the pouch was between his own massive thighs.
Bret regained his footing under the shower and began rubbing the block of soap over his body.
"Squat down," Zarak ordered, "and clean out your hole. Master Kasim will fill it up again soon enough."
-0-
MANDRASAT Chapter Two: Zarak! (cont'd)
Reacting mindlessly to Zarak's command, virtually oblivious to his surroundings and hunching down like a frog, Bret squatted under the shower, and, reaching behind his balls, began soaping his hole, his brain too stunned to make a conscious connection between Zarak's words and his own action. His body would not let go of the overwhelming power and ecstasy he'd felt when he rammed himself through the Nubian's hole and full force into his tight, hot chute. It was like drilling his cock into a wet, grainy, tightly clenched fist. His whole body shuddered and he was dizzy recalling it, breathless even; the roar of his heart beat drowned out the pounding shower overhead; his rod stiffened, jutting out in front of his belly like a handle.
The thrill of remembering his rock hard spike grinding against the walls of the Nubian's guts, the stretching and the friction from jamming it raw and deep sent waves of fiery excitement surging through his belly, his genitals, his soul; he could taste it in his mouth, he relived it in his rigid, throbbing cock, and he shook with delirium as his body flexed and released in rhythm with its beat.
His free hand reached automatically for his hot, twitching rod, his fingers closing around it, his ass pumping back and forth driving it into his own clenched fist. Suddenly, with no warning, Zarak swooped down on him, grabbed him by the shoulders, raised him up, and hurled him face first into the back wall.
"You fucking slave," he screamed. "You do not touch what does not belong to you. Master Shareem owns your cock. He owns your balls and your asshole. You do not pleasure yourself. Ever!"
Zarak punctuated his final word with a vicious kick to Bret's ass.
"You play with your cock again," he stormed over the whimpering slave, "and I will have Master Jullah play with it every day for a month. Do you hear what I say, you fucking slave?"
Cringing against the wall, Bret cried, "Master, yes, Master. Forgive me, Master" he begged, his cock quickly falling limp. "I'm sorry, Master."
"I am not interested in 'sorry,'" Zarak stormed, looming threateningly over the cowering slave.
He ordered Bret to his feet, then shouted, "Bend over, you piece of dog shit, and grab your ankles."
"You!" he hollered to the Nubian. "Pick up that soap and come here. Clean out this slave's hole, and if you dare make him cum, I will castrate you myself."
With his massive paws, Zarak yanked Bret's buttocks wide and watched closely as the Nubian slave soaped his finger and worked it into Bret's hole. The terrified Nubian was exceptionally careful not to hit Bret's prostate, knowing fully that the nodule had the power to trigger the white slave's cock hard again like a rock and shoot his cum across the floor.
His finger, buried deep in Bret's hole, could not completely avoid the protuberance, and as much as he would have liked to ravage it, longed to ravage it, with his own cock, with his own tongue, he studiously wiped it with the lightest touch he could. Even that light brush brought moans from Bret's throat and a quiver to his cock.
When Zarak was satisfied the Nubian had sufficiently cleansed Bret's hole, and no bubbles of cum were visible in his chute, he ordered him to stand up and exit the shower. Hassan grabbed a piece of coarse cloth from the utility shelf and tossed it to him.
"Dry yourself, slave. I want no puddles in my workroom or in the exercise pit."
Bret quickly toweled himself all over, and Zarak told him to give the cloth to the Nubian. As he turned to pass it to the black slave, his hand instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder; he held the Nubian's gaze in his eyes for a moment and smiled slightly, then the flat of Zarak's hand cracked loudly against the back of his head.
"I said give the towel to the Nubian, you stupid slave, not make eyes at him."
Zarak, slowly shaking his head, gave Hassan a look of utter exasperation.
"Perhaps," Hassan laughed, "your slave and mine might like to be left alone a little while longer."
"I will leave them alone," Zarak spat, "hanging by their balls from the ceiling."
"Move out!" he commanded striking Bret hard across his right buttock. He had one quick second for a final, furtive glance back at the Nubian before Zarak pushed him toward the exercise pit and into Mandrasat's dank hallways. Zarak said not a word; nothing needed to be said. His slave had begun to feel the full weight of Mandrasat. By this time tomorrow afternoon, he would know its full horror.
-0-
The door to Kasim's workroom slid open at Zarak's approach; as the overseer shoved him into the chamber, Bret shivered at the sight of Kasim's magnificent naked body. A firey recollection also swept across his shoulder and chest recalling the whip that Kasim used on him that morning by the field cart in the courtyard. A sneer crept across Kasim's face as he stepped into the middle of the room; behind him, head bowed and hands behind his back, stood his slave, the Navy fighter pilot, and against the wall to Bret's left, three naked, giggling, and heavily muscled Nubians. But Bret's eyes were riveted on Kasim.
"Salaam!" Zarak hissed, and Bret instantly fell to his knees before Kasim.
He struggled desperately to keep from throwing a hard on, but Kasim radiated a power, an energy, that snared Bret like a rabbit in a trap. With his cock fully hard and rigid, he bent over and kissed the overseer's feet, letting the tip of his tongue protrude between his lips, dragging it over Kasim's toes, then knelt up and, as his upper lip touched the tip of Kasim's cock, he drew his tongue lightly across the underside of his cockhead.
Bret applied the slightest of pressure as his lips encircled the cockhole; Kasim shifted his weight almost imperceptively from one foot to the other, a low rumble sounding in his chest. Bret kissed each of Kasim's testicles, faintly jabbing his tongue into each. Finishing the Salaam, he waited on his knees, head bowed, for Kasim's next pleasure.
"On your feet, slave," he commanded, looking down at Bret, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. "I've been looking forward to this for almost two days now," he continued, not even attempting to disguise his Texan accent. "I hear," he whispered standing directly in front of Bret, "that you and Master Jullah had a fine old time last night. I'm sure," he continued, smiling and drawing the tips of his fingers over the tip of Bret's cock, "that we will have just as good a time tonight."
Bret was shaking like a windblown leaf; his cock painfully hard as Kasim tightened his fingers around it, then after a few moments of slow stroking, he let go of it, turned his head toward his slave and ordered him to his side.
Kasim's slave stepped forward, naked, with the pall of defeat and submission hanging over him. Bret's previous encounter with him took place less than a day and a half before and was such a horrifying experience, swathed in pain and brutality, that he never really had the chance to look at him closely. Even on his first day at Mandrasat, strung up in Shareem's neural torture device, numb with fear, terrorized out of his mind when and had seen this slave for the first time, he had not been able to focus on anything more than the hefty tackle he hung. Now, as he approached his master, cowed and beaten, it was obvious what a strikingly tall, handsome, lean and muscular man he was.
Bret felt an icy chill surge through his guts, and dread hang heavy in his chest; what hope is there if one like this can be so completely destroyed? He also couldn't help noticing the large adhesive patches pressed onto the front and inside of the man's thighs, on his calves, and on the sides of his torso between his rib cage and hips. His thought was that they were first aid bandages covering the bruises and batterings all slaves seem to be subject to, but not knowing their exact nature or purpose, a new layer of fear enveloped Bret's mind as he watched his counterpart stand next to, but one step behind his master.
After years of hormonal research, Shareem's European biochemical conglomerate had devised these patches exclusively for his slave training facilities. On a time release basis, they would secrete endorphins through the skin and directly into the blood stream. This, combined with the herbal stimulants and steroids that he consumed in his daily slave slop the Navy pilot was kept in a constant state of mid level arousal, which would explode into a devouring, all consuming lust during orgasm, over which he had no control. At the moment, his cock was semi hard, pointing outwards from his crotch.
"Tell me, slave," Kasim mocked, "have our Nubians taught you well these past few days?"
Head still bowed and his eyes cast down to the floor, the slave whispered, "Master, yes, Master."
"Louder, you fucking slave," Kasim shouted. "I could hardly hear you. Have our Nubians taught you well?"
"Master, yes, Master," he cried aloud. "The Nubians have taught me well, Master."
Kasim growled, "then suck this slave's cock just the way you were taught"
As the overseer stepped aside, his slave dropped to his knees in front of Bret, grabbed him tightly above the hips, and, slamming his tongue wildly into his cock, slid his mouth down its full length.
A loud, piercing moan escaped Bret's lips; his eyes were squeezed shut and, grasping the slave's smooth, flawless head, he began pumping his ass, slowly grinding himself against his face. The pilot had sucked his mouth so tightly around Bret's cock and commenced jabbing his tongue against it so forcefully, that Bret shuddered uncontrollably with pain and excitement.
Kasim's slave dug his fingers into Bret's hips and this thumbs into his belly, pulling him down onto the floor. He cried out in ecstasy and agony as he forced his burning cock against the pilot slave's powerful mouth grip. He was flat on his back, his cock fully in the slave's throat; his furious gulping spasms drove Bret wild.
Without surrendering an inch of Bret's cock, the slave reached back and grabbed him behind the knees and hoisted his legs over his shoulders. Bret immediately clasped his ankles together behind the slave's back and began slamming his ass up and down on the floor, groaning loudly and thrashing about madly.
Kasim's slave, his eyes ablaze, sweat streaming from his body, worked his finger into Bret's hole while ramming his mouth relentlessly along his cock; he found, then shoved his finger roughly across Bret's prostate causing him to scream and his cock to explode, shooting wads of hot cum down the slave's throat.
The slave, now fully consumed with a raging lust for Bret's body, pulled his mouth off Bret's still hard and discharging cock and fell face first onto his left breast, growling beast like and snapping his teeth shut on his nipple. He maneuvered his cockhead against Bret's hole, paused for a fraction of a second, then rammed it full length into Bret's ass.
Bret cried out in agony over and over, but the roar of his own body deafened him to any sound outside. He writhed furiously under the pounding attack of the slave's cock; he beat his fists on the floor and howled and shoved his ass forcefully back to slam onto the forward thrust of the slave's cock. His gut muscles squeezed tight, then released, then squeezed tight again, crushing cock, milking cock until it finally erupted, sending geysers of cum splattering against his insides, a blossom of heat streaking out from the center of his body.
His hole had been brutally stretched over the course of the day beginning with Jullah pounding him mercilessly into Zarak's bed, then the monstrous Nubian slave beast yoked behind him to the field cart splitting him wide open with his gigantic tool, and finally Hassan and his Nubian and their huge cocks grinding and wrenching his hole open until he thought he had to die. Kasim's slave produced a flash of searing white pain as he plowed himself fully into Bret's ass, but after his initial agonized cry, Bret hung mute, almost comatose, suspended on the massive spike slamming deeper into his ass, detonating wave after wave numbing ecstasy.
His arms extended, his head rolling to one side, his eyes closed, spittle running out of the corner of his mouth, he was beyond consciousness, his mind short circuited, his higher faculties paralyzed. His rasping cries collided with the growls emanating from the other slave's throat as he ground his teeth back and forth over Bret's excruciatingly pained nipple.
If Bret could have described the forces tearing at his body and mind, he would have said it was as though he were hurtling around inside a tornado; with neither up nor down, left or right, darkness or light, only the grinding, the trobbing, the fire storm, the electric currents surging through his body. Somewhere out there, beyond his care, were shouts and screams as he was tossed about by the storm's violent currents. Suddenly everything stopped.
Bret's eyes popped open; Kasim's slave was off his body, nowhere to be seen, and the three Nubian slaves were pulling him to his feet. As the largest of the Nubians grabbed him from behind, pinning his upper arms to his sides, the other two bound his wrists tightly together in front of him with a heavy line hanging from the ceiling. When his wrists had been securely tied, the Nubian pinning his arms let go and stepped away; Bret's arms were then jerked violently upwards, over his head, as one of the other Nubians pulled down forcefully on the end of the rope.
With his arms stretched tightly above his head, the Nubians then busied themselves shackling his ankles to chains, pulling his legs apart, and clamping the chains to eyelets anchored in the floor. When they had finished with these restraints, Bret's body, pulled taut, resembled an inverted 'Y'.
Directly in front of him, separated by five, possibly six feet, was the Navy fighter pilot, similarly shackled in the upside down 'Y' position. Lengths of heavy rope were jammed into their mouths, looped around their jaws, and tied behind the back of their heads. These rope gags were not intended to silence them or even muffle their voices; their screams would be perfectly clear; they just would not be able to form any words.
Kasim stepped between the two tightly restrained slaves, the contemptuous smirk lingering on his lips.
"Will you not stay and join us," he called to Zarak who had already turned in the direction of the door. "I can promise an exciting evening."
"Thank you for the offer," he shouted back over his shoulder, "but I'm sure you noticed how my chastity pouch is straining greatly against its precious contents. I will see you and these slaves in Master Shareem's discipline room tomorrow morning."
"Try not to hurt yourself tonight," Kasim laughed as the door swept open before Zarak and slid silently shut after him. Kasim's eyes then returned to his prey.
-0-
He snapped his fingers and one of the Nubian slaves ran up to him and handed him what Bret immediately recognized as length of bungee cord with loops reinforced at either end with black duct tape. Kasim stepped in front of Bret and, after a quick piercing glance, dropped to one knee and wrapped the cord around the top of Bret's scrotum, threading one looped end through the other and drawing it tight. Bret grunted at the sudden pressure on his balls.
Kasim then wound the cord around the base of Bret's cock, again threading the looped end in between the cord itself and the already stiffening organ; he repeated the process at mid shaft and finally around the underside of Bret's cockhead. Then pulling on the cord, he turned around and walked over to the fighter pilot. Bret cried loudly into his rope gag at the stabbing pain shooting through his cock and lacerating his balls as they were dragged out in front of him.
Beginning with the underside of the pilot slave's cockhead, and continuing in reverse order to Bret, Kasim affixed the bungee cord tightly around his slave's cock and balls, stretching both out from his body and toward Bret. The slave groaned as a ring of fire seemed to explode in and around his genitals. Both slaves strained forward toward each other as far as their wrist and ankle restraints would allow. The cord felt as though it were ripping their balls and cocks out by their roots, and the throbbing pressure from this strangulation caused their organs to turn purple.
Sweat streamed from their heads, their torsos, their outstretched legs, puddling on the floor as they tried to release the pressure by pulling harder against their restraints. Neither the rope binding their wrists and stretching their arms above their heads nor the shackles pulling their legs apart gave an inch. Both slaves were screaming into their gags, writhing in agony.
With sweat burning his eyes, Bret watched two of the Nubians approach, each carrying what appeared to be several folded pieces of cloth. What the folded pieces of cloth turned out to be were Shareem's endorphin laced adhesive patches, identical to the ones on the fighter pilot's body. The Nubian slaves tore the backing from the patches and applied them to Bret's body, onto the front and inner parts of his thighs, onto his calves, and around his midsection below his ribs.
Almost immediately, as the Nubians, giggling and chirping, rubbed their hands over the patches, Bret's head began to swim, and inspite of the searing pain from having his genitals bound tightly and stretched, a sweeping, breathless thrill washed through his body. The agony he was suffering did not seem independent of, or hostile to the pulsating waves surging out from his belly; in fact, in Bret's mind, the pain was the cause of this ecstatic feeling. It was, however, still excruciating.
After some moments of letting the slaves feel the agony of their bungee cord union, Kasim stepped between them, and Bret's eyes bulged as he screamed louder and longer into his gag. Kasim was holding two narrow leather straps, one of which he handed a grinning Nubian. He then stepped behind Bret as the Nubian stepped behind the other slave. In only a matter of seconds, a sheet of fire tore across both slaves' buttocks, and Bret watched the Navy pilot receive the same lashing from the leather strap in the Nubian's hand.
Both slaves convulsed under this new torture, and in doing so, amplified the agony in their genitals; their shrieks bombarding the walls of the room. On a totally instinctual level, both slaves realized they would have to remain still or risk tearing each other's cocks and balls off their bodies. As a second tongue of flame raked their buttocks, they again convulsed under its pain, but they quickly tried regaining control of themselves.
Again and again, Kasim and the Nubian lashed the slaves flaming red buttocks; the two could only whimper as the strap slashed back and forth, but they forced their bodies to move as little as possible from the beating.
Under such savagery, there was no way either slave could hear the workroom door slide open, nor, drenched with pain, would their minds have been able to process the sight of Dr. Katib entering the room.
-0-
MANDRASAT is very much a 'Work Under Construction,' and I would appreciate hearing your thoughts and suggestions should you choose to continue reading through the story. Please email your comments to Pete Brown petebrownuk@yahoo.com