Steve Grows Up

Steve Grows Up

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 6

Well, as you know, I like to give dick. So after a decent time of fondling and stroking Sam, I half pushed him down into the straw, and began to feel for his hole so that I could massage and stretch it. Sam started to moan as I did so, and I whispered "So, Sam, I jerked you off, but now it's your turn to please me.

So down on your knees, and get those shoulders into the straw and your ass in the air...."

Sam did as I told him, and to leave me free to enjoy his body I told him to reach back and spread his butt cheeks - I positioned myself, and began to push in and then once I was past his sphincter, I lay forward onto him, holding his shoulders with my hands, so that I could give lots of little short gentle fucks. Sam moaned and moaned with pleasure, and I was just approaching my climax when my own ass was attacked! I suddenly felt hands on my butt, prising me apart, and then a hot dick nudging at me. I stopped, and looked around, and there was Dob's huge black body right behind me.

"Fuck off!", I shouted at him. But the nigga just put his huge arms around me as I knelt there and squeezed me back towards him. I could feel his dick stabbing at me, and then his harsh African voice rasped "You're one of us, Steve, and I've always wanted a bit of white ass - and a slave can fuck another one. Come on, boy - open up, before I have to hurt you..."

"Fuck you, Dob - let me go...", I shouted, and by now I'd slipped out of Sam and was kneeling there struggling, desperately trying to free myself. I'd been trying to tear his big hands away from me, completely without success, of course ,as he was so much bigger and stronger than me. So in desperation I tired another tack - I relaxed and stopped struggling, and reached behind myself as if I was going to spread myself and facilitate his access. I heard Dob give a sigh of expectation, as he obviously thought he had won - but this turned to a shrill scream of rage as I gripped his big balls which were hanging there right behind me.

I carried on gripping him, and twisted around to face him. "So it's OK for slaves to fuck each other, is it, Dob? That's good - as when I saw that big ass of yours and those long, long legs it really set my dick twitching...."

"Let me go, white boy..."

"No, Dob - you were going to fuck me, but I've decided that Sam can wait, and I'll have you instead...."

Still gripping his balls tightly so that he knew I was in control, I pushed him backwards, down to lie on his back on the straw. I was kneeling between those long, black legs and looking at him across his wonderfully muscled body - completely hairless, as it seemed that was the way Mr. Stryker liked his slaves. I remembered thinking how well the lack of body hair added to the look of this big man - the muscles in his belly and his pecs were so wonderfully delineated when you could see them like this, especially as they were all shining in the dim light as he was covered in a faint sheen of sweat.

"OK, big boy - pull your legs back and grab your ankles", I told him, and then, when he hesitated, I gave his balls a little extra squeeze, causing him to give a startled cry of pain. "Do as I tell you, nigga! Do you want to get hurt?"

Slowly he raised first one leg and then the other and moved his feet up and back, grabbing his ankles as I'd told him. Thank the fuck for that, I thought to myself, as I'm not sure what I'd have done if he'd not obeyed - I mean, you wouldn't really want to hurt a fellow slave, would you?

His big, pink puckered asshole was tantalisingly displayed now, and my dick was throbbing at the thought of it. I kept my eyes locked on his and guided my dick down onto it by touch, and then pushed forward. I saw him gritting his teeth, as if he was determined to stop me entering him, and thought about squeezing his balls again - but I knew I had to be careful, as if I overdid it he might just throw me off him totally and risk a sharp sudden pain. So I just pulled back a bit and stabbed forward, slamming my dick head at him.

I wasn't experienced in these things at that time so I was amazed as I saw Dob's expression change totally - as I carried stabbing at him his eyes kind of rolled, and his face, previously knotted in that determination to stop me, seemed to soften. I played on this, and I lowered my tone - always a good thing, I think, to show you're serious - and murmured to him "Good boy, Dob... Now, you like this really, I can tell. So just relax..... Come on, boy.... Push out, pretend you're going to take a crap...."

And that was all it took, really! Once I had my dick in him, it was as if he was totally in my power. I was able to let go of his balls and focus on fucking him, all the time watching his face and observing how his expression changed as I varied the length of my stroke and the force with which I slammed in to him. And then when I leaned forward and grabbed his nips and pulled them, hard, it was even better: he was moaning and crying, not in pain, but in the sheer joy of the experience I was giving him. I felt fantastic, too - unbelievably good, and I wanted it to go on for ever. I had this huge black man totally in my power- he had at least six inches and sixty or seventy pounds on me, and he'd tried to fuck me against my will: yet here he was, skewered on my dick, with me absolutely controlling whether he was sighing with passion or moaning with that mixture of pain and pleasure that a hard fuck gives you.

I'd remembered reading somewhere about trying different things, and so I started to rotate my hips gently when I was buried in him, as if to widen his hole - and it was magic! He started to cry aloud, and

the sheen of sweat all over him turned into big droplets as I worked away. It couldn't go on, of course - my own excitement just carried me over the edge, and I felt my balls beginning to contract, and then my cum shot up into him. I heard my own cry of triumph and ecstasy as I finished, and I was so exhausted that I just slumped forward onto him, revelling in the heat of the body and the smell of the sweat of this man that I'd conquered. I got a bit worried as his legs wrapped around me as I knew that those powerful muscles could easily crush me, but he seemed he needed to hold me tight, to pull me almost further into him. We lay together, breathing hard, and then we both started to laugh, just quietly, not uproariously.

I remembered what dad had told me about what men like really, and it seemed to me that big, tough, strong Dob had really always wanted to take a man's dick but had been constrained by his image to have to fuck instead. I pulled out of him, and pushed upwards so he unwound his legs from me, then knelt there, looking down at him. "OK, big boy? Is that what you needed?"

He just looked at me, and so I said "When you're asked a question, you reply, boy!" A tingle ran down my spine as I said this, as the thought of me, a sixteen year old, controlling and dominating a big man like this was an excitement in itself. Dob looked up at me, and half whispered "Thank you, sir."

I went and sat by Sam then, and he put his arm around me. "So you won't be fucking me, Steve, will you now?"

"Oh yes, Sam. Dob was just a warm-up! Just give my balls a few minutes to recover...."

Well, it took more than a few minutes - about half an hour, I suppose. And then when I'd fucked Sam, it seemed silly to get up from the warm comfort of the straw and the two niggas' bodies around me, so we settled down to sleep. It felt absolutely amazing to be sandwiched in-between these two muscled guys, the smell of the straw, sweat and cum all making an intoxicating cocktail in my nose; and, of course, as we all moved constantly throughout the night, adjusting our positions as you do, I kept drifting in and out of sleep and feeling their hard muscles against me. It must have been about three in the morning - I'd just heard the church clock in the village strike - when I knew we were all awake simultaneously. Dob's dick was rock hard and was kind of wedged along the crack in my butt, and Sam had turned around to face me so that our dicks were pressed into each others bellies. "Fuck me again, Steve. Please." He whispered, but I was just too tired.

Instead I shuffled a bit so that our dicks could stretch to their maximum, then held them together. Even when you're close to another guy, really close, feeling his body all along you and around you, there's something very special about having your dicks in contact all along their length, I think. Sam and I were both sighing with excitement, and when I started to stroke us, still together, it wasn't long before we both shot, covering our bellies and pubes with each others cum. I felt really sorry for Dob then, and rolled over so that I was facing him. His dick really was a monster, and I stroked it almost reverentially. Dob's breathing got stronger as he woke up more, and then, as I continued to stimulate him, I was rewarded by the feeling of his big spurt of cum hitting my belly.

We all fell asleep again then, in an unruly tangle of limbs and bodies, and I don't think I've ever slept as well before. Too well, in fact, as I was brought from deep sleep to full wakening by something sharp - well, that's what it felt like at first. You know how an external thing can be incorporated into your dreams, well, it was a bit like that - I dreamed that I was cutting something and the knife slipped and hurt my arm, and then my back, and then my butt.... And then I went through that stage when you start to realise it wasn't a dream at all, but something really happening..... Mr. Stryker was standing there with a tawse, slashing down at our bodies and calling us lazy animals for not being up and ready for work! Evidently our night-time exertions had totally tired us and we'd slept through the ponies' wake up call.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to avoid the tips of the tawse as Mr. Stryker continued to slash out at us, and he sneered at me. "So, Steve, you're a real slave at last! Sleeping in the slave barn, and fucking with the other animals!"

I was hopping around trying to pull my boxers on, and Mr. Stryker almost deliberately lashed out with the tawse at my bare butt. "Leave all that, boy! Just pick up your stuff and get out of here and back to the forge, to start work!", he snapped. So I had to run through the barn naked, with all the other guys in their stalls laughing at me as my dick bobbed up and down. I had to risk disobeying Mr. Stryker, though, as I didn't want to arrive home like that, and once I felt certain I was out of sight, I sat down on the grass still damp with the morning dew and pulled my clothes and boots on.

It was breakfast time by the time I got back to the forge, and mom hated people to be late for meals so there was no time to change or anything, and I went straight in to the kitchen. All the others were already there, and dad had almost finished his bowl of stuff. Mom looked at me, and sniffed the air suspiciously. "Steven! You haven't showered this morning Or shaved...."

"Sorry, mom, I overslept..."

"Why didn't you put your clean clothes on at least?"

"Sorry, mom, I didn't see them...."

"I left them on your bed, Steve. You couldn't fail to see them...."

Cliff let out a loud guffaw, and said to the world in general "If you ask me, mom, Steve hasn't been in his bed! I reckon he was off somewhere, sexing.... those girls from his school...."

"Clifford! I won't have you talking about things like that at the table." Cliff knew he'd gone too far when mom said this, but just sat there, almost sniggering.

"Steven, could your brother be right? Were you out all night?"

"Mom, please... I'm a grown man... You can't ask me things like that..."

"Steven, I'm your mother! And whilst you live under my roof, you'll obey my rules. And one of them is, as you know, that you do not go out at night without permission."

"Mom, I'm not a kid any more. I'm a s...." I almost said it, but stopped just in time and went on "...grown man. Those rules are for Cliff and the kids. Now I've got my own place in the forge, I'll come and go as I please...."

Dad sprang to his feet, knocking over his chair. "Steve, outside. Now!", he snapped.

"Dad...."

"Steve, I said outside. Now. Get yourself outside, now, before it gets any worse...."

I saw the look of rage and anger in dad's eyes, and turned and went outside, followed closely by dad. He grabbed me by the arm and shook me. "You may be a man, Steve, but I won't have you being rude to your mother."

"I wasn't being rude. She shouldn't pry."

"Go in and apologise to your mom, son. And then go and get cleaned up - look at you: not shaved, your clothes all scuffed, and you stink of sweat and...." Dad stopped and I added

"...yes, dad. And of cum. I've been fucking, dad. That's what men do. So if you want me to go and apologise to mom I will. I'll tell her I'm sorry I overslept and that made me late for breakfast as I had such a horny time with two other guys last night that it made me exhausted."

I though t dad was going to hit me. He clenched is fists and took a step towards me, but I just stood my ground. He backed down, and kind of shrugged. "Best not upset you mom, Steve. Get over to the forge and start the fire...." He grinned at me, and went on "I suppose you're only young once, and we can wait whilst you work your way through the sex thing."

"It's not a 'sex thing', dad! You haven't worked your way through it! I can hear you at it every night with mom, and you seem to do pretty much OK when the Colonel...."

He did hit me then, and I was sprawled on the ground, blood streaming from my nose.

"Don't go too far, Steve. You always try to push it, don't you? Now shut up about your mom and me.... If I ever hear you say anything like that again, I'll give you the biggest beating you can even imagine. Now, go and get that fucking fire started...."

Dad and I worked in silence all morning. Just grunts like "Fetch me the hammer", or "Blow the fire more". And I felt sorry for the poor niggas who were being re-collared that morning as dad wasn't his normal gentle self with them, but seemed intent on working out his anger by really bashing the rivets into their collars. Then at lunchtime mom came over with the stuff for us as usual, and she saw us sitting at opposite ends of the bench, instead of close together as we generally did.

"I thought I'd got two men around the house now", she remarked, looking at us and kind of wagging her finger in mock distress. "But it looks as if I've got two kids, two silly squabbling kids! "

"Mom, it's not me....", I began, and she snapped "Steven, not another word! If you want to be considered to be a man, start acting like one. Go and sit by your father so I can give you your lunch."

"But mom, it was dad...."

"Steven! Not another word, if you want to eat. And you didn't have any breakfast, did you? You must be starving, after working all morning. Now do as I say...."

Well, I had those hunger pangs, and I did need something, so I shuffled along and sat next to dad, who was kind of scowling.

"That's better!", mom said brightly. "Both of my big strong men together, as they should be. Now, eat up!". She gave us our fried slices of the mush which is what we normally ate, and then went back to the house. Dad and I ate on in silence, until he said "We'd better get back to work, Steve."

I said "OK, dad", completely automatically, and somehow, once the silence had been broken, things were a lot better. In the afternoon as we talked to each other as usual about what we were doing. We both knew we were in the wrong to some extent, I suppose, but neither of us was ever going to admit it.

Another bout of fucking with Sam and Dob was in order that night, I thought, but as we were packing away in the forge a runner arrived with a message for us. There wasn't a phone or anything in the house, and we obviously didn't run to a cell, so if they wasted to communicate with us the usual method was to send a runner like this - a young nigga, who could only have been sixteen. There were a couple of them around the place and I often saw them running around - and they always did run! Not jog, run. The idea was that once someone had decided to send a message, it was urgent. So these runners were all tall, very tall, and very thin so that they were light on their feet, and it always seemed to me that they were kept half starved, as in an effort to keep them slim they were not fed enough as you could see all their ribs. Because of the speed he had to run fast and might be hindered if his dick and balls were flopping around he was even allowed to wear something, unlike a normal nigga - his dick and balls were neatly held in a small mesh pouch, just a triangle of the stuff, held by a string around his waist and one that went under him and up his ass crack.

"You're to go to the big house", the lad said to dad. "You and Steve both. Now." He turned and raced off, probably to deliver another message somewhere else, and dad looked at me.

"You know what this means, don't you, Steve? I'm going to have to fuck you again. Just run and tell mom we won't be in to dinner, so she doesn't worry. And then we'd best go - we don't need anything, after all, as we're going to be stripped naked as soon as we get there."

I felt my heart begin to pound and that funny feeling of excitement building in my stomach. I didn't much look forward to being fucked by dad again, but, after all, the Colonel might let me fuck him afterwards. And dad was wrong about being made to strip naked - well, we were showered and shaved and cleaned out by the four niggas, but then we were given brief "house servant" tunics to wear - somehow I felt even more exposed and vulnerable like this than totally buff, as the hem of the shirt-like garment only just came to the tip of my dick, and there were broad slits up each side so that as I walked my thighs were exposed as high as my waist. The whole thing, with its deep "V" neck and total lack of sleeves seemed designed to show us off, to draw attention to our bodies, rather than to give us any measure of modesty as clothes should.

We waited outside the door to the Colonel's room, standing together as if we were trying to provide shelter for each other from the stares of the slaves who busied themselves with their comings and goings as they hurried past us. I'd got used to wearing my heavy work boots now, and my are feet felt cold on the smooth cool tiles, and I kept trying not to think about sex as I knew the moment my dick started to move it would poke up the hem of my tunic.

I don't know how long we were there - it could have bee an half an hour, it could have been more. But then, if a master wants to keep a slave standing around, that's his choice, isn't it? From the slave's point of view, it beats working! Except that for dad and me we'd almost finished working for the day, and I was looking forward to my dinner, and then going to see Sam and Dob. I wanted to talk to dad to relieve the boredom, but he told me to keep quiet as the Colonel didn't like slaves chattering to each other, so we just stood there and dad showed me how it was meant to be done - hands clasped neatly behind our backs, feet a little apart, and head down, looking at a point about two feet in front of us. It's really boring, but, as dad whispered, with practice you can almost doze off to sleep like that.

When we were allowed in, the Colonel told us to stand in front of him and I noticed that dad assumed that "slave rest" position he'd taught me outside, so I followed suit. "Well done, blacksmith! The veterinarian tells me you've obeyed orders and I've got another slave to look forward to."

"Yes, sir", dad said quietly. As if he didn't know whether to be ashamed, or proud, of this.

"I shall have to start looking for a mate for you, Steve", he went on, turning towards me. "Young men are at their horniest and most fertile at your age, and the sooner you start planting the seed and producing new slaves for me, the better. I had thought of putting you out to stud, but I think there's more to be gained by keeping you here as a paired breeder, like your mother and father - having the slaves grow up in a family is so much better for them, I think. 'Family reared' slaves fetch so much higher prices than those from the breeding farms."

I just stood there, and the Colonel sounded testy. "Have you nothing to say?"

"No, sir."

"You're not pleased that I'm going to find you a mate?

You'd rather the life of a stud, would you? You'd rather have endless different women than your chosen mate?"

"No, sir."

"Which is it?" - he sounded very tetchy now.

"Neither, sir. I don't want a mate, and I don't want to stud. I don't want to produce more slaves at all."

The Colonel just laughed. "Ah, the idealism of the young. I suppose you think it's all wrong, me breeding from you. But it doesn't matter, actually, as you have no choice. Your opinion is worthless. You'll breed when I tell you, or stud when I tell you, as you're a slave. Now, come and sit by me."

I went and sat on the chesterfield as I had the time before, and of course the short tunic rode up so that the leather was clammy against my bare butt. Absolutely without asking, and as if he didn't care, the Colonel rested his hand on the inside of my thigh, and smoothly moved it up to begin fondling my balls.

"Now, Steve, what shall we do tonight? I think I'd like to sit here and toy with you whilst we see your dad in action. Would you like to see him fuck one of the niggas from the showers, or shall I send for one of the washerwomen - I haven't seen him with a woman for some time. Or shall we just have him jerk off for us?"

"Sir, please.... You can't ask me to make a choice like that... He's my dad."

"Steve, I'm not asking you - I'm your owner, remember?

So I'm telling you. And anyway you ought not to think of him as your father - he's a nice piece of male flesh who I may want you to do things with, and that's all there is to it. The fact that one of his millions of sperm gave rise to you is of no interest to anyone. Now, one of the niggas, a washerwoman, or a nice piece of solo action?"

I thought about it for a moment. I'd enjoy watching dad fuck one of the niggas as they'd both got such superb bodies and would be well worth looking at - but I remembered dad saying how he didn't much like actually giving dick, even though he had to. Perhaps I could ask the Colonel if the nigga could fuck him instead. On the other hand I'd never seen dad fuck a woman - I'd heard him, through the bedroom wall, but it might be interesting to actually see him do it: I could compare his techniques with my own. But then, dad had been on at me today, and perhaps he should be punished a bit - it would be really humiliating to have him jerk off as we watched. So I suggested to the Colonel that that's what should happen, and the Colonel told dad to kneel in front of us and get on with it.

Dad did as he was told, of course, and knelt there, knees apart. The Colonel told him to take off his tunic and a quick pull and it was off over his head, so dad was totally naked. He leaned back so his butt was resting on his heels and his body was sloped backwards a little, and began. As he did so, the Colonel began to stroke my dick and, we both watched dad as he beat away at himself. I started to moan gently and arch my body upwards as if welcoming the Colonel's hand on my dick, but dad seemed to be in trouble as he was really beating himself hard, but seemed to be kind of frustrated.

I looked at the Colonel, and made a little gesture with my head, seeking his permission to help, and when he let go of me I slid off the chesterfield and went and knelt behind dad. His body was warm against mine as I pressed myself to him, so I could reach around and start to jerk him. I pressed my face into dad's big strong back as I stroked his dick, my nose filling with his scent and giving me an incredible sense of closeness and bonding. I could feel dad's dick going harder and harder under my hands, and then he started to shudder, and I felt his dick give those kind of big jerks that happen when you've cum, and so I knew he'd shot. I let go of his dick and wrapped my arms around his chest, pressing him close to me, and as my body rubbed against his my dick was so hard that it was almost painful, and I was glad that it managed to nestle just a little between dad's big butt cheeks as we stayed there.

"OK, Steve", the Colonel called, "Enough of this father and son bonding!". Reluctantly, as I'd felt so close to dad, I got to my feet as dad continued to kneel there. The polished floor had a big streak of dad's cum on it stretching away out from the front of him, and dad's head was bowed, looking down at it as if he was ashamed of it , rather than glorying in the power and virility that had allowed him to generate this sign of his manhood.

"So what about you, Steve?" The Colonel was smiling, and gesturing at my erect dick as I stood there. "We've seen what your father can do, shall we have a competition and see if you could shoot further - you could kneel by the side of him, and measure how far you shot against his cum slick here."

I remembered how dad had forced his dick down my throat and decided that he needed to learn that he couldn't use me like that now I was a grown man. So I shook my head, and as the Colonel raised his eyebrows in a silent question, I walked towards dad until I was standing so close to him as he knelt there, and then I moved my hips forward gently, so that my dick touched his closed lips. I reached down and put my hands around dad's head, and stroked it gently, all the time nudging my dick at his mouth, until he opened it and my dick slid in.

"Come on, take it right down...", I muttered as I pushed forward, feeling the slimy warmth of dad's spit and his tongue against me. I pushed forward more, holding his head not so tightly that he couldn't escape if he had just pushed himself away, but giving him that feeling that I was in control of him, so that he understood that I was running the show.

"Good....", I murmured, to encourage him, and then I really did hold his head tighter as my dick touched the back of his throat and his gag reflex cut in.

I eased off so that he could cough and splutter, but never took my dick out of his mouth fully, and each time he seemed to be able to take it again, I thrust home once more. Occasionally I'd stop and give him a gentle fuck with my dick, pleased that he closed his lips around me to maximise my pleasure. And once or twice I did pullout completely and then beat his face with my slimy dick - not hard, obviously, but again just to make no mistake about who was in control.

Actually, I don't find having my dick sucked all that erotic, and a fuck is much better. So after we'd been going for what felt like at least ten minutes, with dad now moaning and slobbering all over my dick, I got bored. I pulled out again, and said calmly "Keep your mouth open, and your tongue out...." And then I slid the tip of my dick up and down the scaly surface of his tongue tip as I jerked away at it with my hand.

It only took a couple of minutes and I felt my balls beginning to contract, and I shouted "Hold it, dad - keep your mouth open...", and the next instant his mouth was filled with a huge load of my creamy cum, just as mine had been with his.

The Colonel applauded, and called me over to him. "Well done, Steve! Excellent! I'm having a small dinner party on Saturday, just four local couples, and when the ladies have retired as we have our brandy and cigars, I was going to have your father entertain the gentlemen as he usually does, with a display of fucking of some of the niggas. But I think we'll do something different this week - I find myself getting bored with the purely ordinary, and these locals need some new stimulation to interest them. So we'll have you and your father performing together - he can fuck you, or you can fuck him, or it might be amusing to see you '69' each other.... Work something out between you so that you're ready to perform."

"Yes, sir." I replied, not really sure of how we were going to do this.

"Oh, Steve.... And don't forget: I want a real display. So you're not to jerk yourself off, or fuck, from Thursday onwards. And you neither, blacksmith - now your mate's in pup again you ought to be stopping anyway."

He waved his hand then in a gesture of dismissal, and dad and I pulled the erotically short tunics over our heads, and turned and left. We went back out via the shower area so we could change back into our jeans, boxers and Ts, and dad seemed strangely, ominously silent. The niggas were laughing and joking and asking us if we had had a good time, but dad was really monosyllabic. Then, as we strode back home, he turned on me!

"I ought to beat you, Steve - and I would, too, if it didn't upset your mom."

"Hey, dad, what for?"

"For that... Making me eat your cum...."

"Dad, you did it to me the other day..."

"But you're a kid, and it's not right to make a man do it...."

"Dad, stop talking about me like that. I'm a man, a grown man. A man just like you. So if it's OK for you as a man to do something to me, it's OK for me to do it back to you, by the same argument."

"You little brat...."

Dad had stopped, and was clenching his fists again as if he was going to attack me. I stood my ground, and just said "Come on, then..... You may be able to beat me now, but one day soon I'll be stronger than you - I'm still growing, but you're over the hill, dad.... And every beating you give me now, I'll give you one back sooner or later."

Dad stood there, his fists still clenching and unclenching, and obviously thinking. I pressed home my advantage, by saying "And in any case, we've got to work something out for next weekend - you heard the Colonel's orders. So we don't have any choice, dad... He wants to see us suck, or fuck..."

I thought dad was going to cry. He stood there, both of us together under the moonlight, and his voice was almost choking as he stuttered out "Steve, I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry for doing all this to you.... It would have been better if I'd never fucked your mother.... And then you wouldn't have to be going through all of this...."

"Dad, it's no use saying things like that. If you hadn't performed, they'd have punished you, and if you continued to defy them and not do it, it would only have got worse and worse. And they could have decided that if you weren't going to use your balls, they might as well cut them off. Don't worry about it, dad - you keep telling me that I'm a slave now and I have to obey: well, I understand that. So if the Colonel wants us to fuck, dad, that's OK...."

End Of Part 6