THE INSTRUMENT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Twelve
I felt better after seeing Marc - he really had treated me badly for years, and it's always satisfying when the tables are turned, I think. Still, his body had excited me and it did seem a pity that it was going to be wasted - after a crucifixion you can't even harvest the organs for the organ banks and the body is only fit for disposal.
My erection was really hurting now though, and I knew that there would be a very visible damp patch on the thin shorts where I was leaking pre-cum: I needed sex, and I needed it now. And there was another person who had treated me badly, and where now I might now take a little revenge.
I strode into the stables, and told them to prepare Jason for me.
"Shall we clean him inside as well as outside?", the stable slaves enquired.
"Neither! I assume he has just returned from his toils, and is sweat-stained... So much the better. No, by 'prepare', I mean render him more biddable: request an overseer with a prod to control him, and then cuff both of his wrists to his collar."
As they scurried off to obey my orders I stood there in this place that had become so familiar to me - the scent of straw, and of males, was almost intoxicating to me. The drays came in, covered in sweat and as usual laughing and joking with each other in spite of their tiredness, but they shied away from me as I stood there, clearly scared of me now. But their glistening black hides beaded with sweat inflamed me even more, and I was sorely tempted to order one of them to kneel and present his ass to me. But good sense prevailed as I wanted to conserve all my energies for Jason, and when one of the slaves came back, bowed, and told me that all was prepared, I could hardly contain my enthusiasm as I made my way along that oh-so-familiar path down between the stalls.
In the "old days" I'd only been able to overcome Jason when I'd had one wrist secured to his collar. Now, although I was immensely more powerful after years of "proper" work as a pony rather than from working out, I had decided to take the precaution of having both wrists secured as Jason, too, had gained in power and strength in that time. I felt I could probably subdue him if he had one arm free, but I didn't want myself damaged - as I started my new life, I thought it would be inappropriate to have a black eye, for example. Nevertheless I was expecting fierce resistance from him, and, to tell you the truth, this was something I was rather looking forward to - not only was it going to be good to fuck Jason, but doing so against his will, when he'd exerted all the effort he could to prevent me, was going to be particularly satisfying. He'd get to know how I felt, after the way he'd so frequently used me.
He was lying sprawled on the straw in a typically defiant pose - his legs stretched out and parted to show he was unashamed of his large cock and balls which were casually "draped" across one muscular thigh. His head was propped against the wall so he was staring down his body, and the lights reflected from the big snout ring and his tit rings.
He saw me standing looking at him, and made no effort to get to his feet. OK, I suppose he was in some way "correct" about this as we were both slaves, but you might have thought that he'd have shown a bit of respect as it was obvious from the fact that I no longer had visible rings, and was wearing shorts and a T, that something had changed.
"Get up, Jason, and come over here as I want to inspect you!", I commanded.
"Fuck you, Steve. You're a fucking slave, just like me."
I smiled at him. "Yes, Jason. You're right. A fucking slave. With the emphasis on the fucking!" Now, get up and come over here - I'm going to milk that cock of yours to give me some lube when I move on to fuck your ass."
"You mean you're going to try to fuck my ass. A fag like you doesn't get to fuck a guy like me. It's me that fucks you, remember?"
"Oh yes, Jason. I do remember. I remember all those nights in here when you've fucked me as if I was some piece of shit, and then rolled over and gone to sleep.
Not once did you ever treat me like a buddy.... We could have had fun together, and instead of that you just treated me like some convenient place to deposit your semen...."
"You're right, Steve. That's what you are - a big asshole, just there to take a real man's cum. Now why don't you take those fancy clothes off and get in here and down on your knees, where you're supposed to be, and let a real man fuck you."
Well he needed to be taught a lesson. There were always one or two of the carriage whips used in the traps lying around, and now I reached for one of them and lashed out at Jason - as I've told you, these really sting when they hit your back and butt, but my blows landed on the soft inner parts of Jason's thighs, his cock, and his balls. It must have been excruciatingly painful!
With a great shout he sprang to his feet - not easy to do with your hands cuffed behind our neck, but of course Jason was in superb physical condition. He lunged at me, forgetting that he was tethered to the floor by his ankle manacle, and as the chain went tight, his momentum caused him to lose his balance and sprawl on the floor in front of me.
Well, this was too good an opportunity to miss! I leapt onto him and we began to struggle - in spite of not having the use of his hands, Jason fought and bucked and tried to but me with his head in an effort to get me off him. His powerful legs tried to crush me. He attempted to bite me. It was all completely useless, of course: there was no way he could stop me. And actually it was very satisfying, very satisfying indeed: the more he fought and the more I overcame him, the more sexually exciting it was! My cock, if I'd had time to analyse one sensation from my body rather than the totality of what comes from a hard fight, was throbbing with excitement. Finally I was sitting astride him with his belly down - my hands were under him and I had grabbed his tit rings, and by twisting these viciously I had got him to lie still.
"Right, Jason. You know what comes next, don't you?" My breathing was hard and irregular, and it was difficult to get the words out. He bucked again in an effort to unseat me, in spite of what must be considerable pain from his tits. And, to tell you the truth, it was hard to remain astride him as he was drenched in sweat that was making his whole body incredibly slippery.
It was going to be easier said than done, as I knew the moment I got off him to get him into a position to fuck him, the battle would start all over again. Fortunately I'm a pretty resourceful guy, and the solution came to me: I tore the flimsy sweat-soaked T off me, ripping it into a strip as I did. Jason thought I was going to use it to gag him, and clamped his jaws resolutely closed, but instead, keeping control of him as best I could with only one tit ring, I deftly threaded the fabric through his snout ring! Once I'd managed to get the other end through one of the tethering rings in the floor of the stall, I had him: hauling on both ends of the material, I pulled Jason's head down to the floor, then triumphantly knotted the fabric to hold him there. If you've ever had a snout ring fitted, you know that there's no way you're going to resist too hard as the pain in your septum is intense - we both hated being tethered that way when we were working, even more so than we hated being tethered by the reins. I had the added benefit now of knowing that Jason was not only immobile but would also be feeling totally humiliated.
I got to my feet and looked at his lovely naked body lying there on the floor of the stall, and let the end of the whip stray along his thighs and butt, lingering in the hollow at the base of his spine. "Well, Jason, that wasn't very nice of you, to try to fight with your old stable mate, was it? Perhaps I should punish you - how about I give that butt of yours a good whipping, to warm it up before I fuck you?"
"Fuck you!", he muttered, defiant as ever, although his words were somewhat indistinct as he face was pulled down to the floor.
I ripped off my shorts, grateful that my cock was now free, and literally threw myself down on top of him. Pulling my body up and down his, I allowed my cock to start to plough between his butt cheeks as I crooned "Feel it, Jason? It's outside now, but soon it's going to be down there, pushing for entrance to your ass.... And do you know what, Jason? It's going to get in, isn't it? Because you know an asshole can't keep out a cock that's determined to force its way in!"
I paused to catch my breath, as I was breathing so hard not only with the exertion, but with excitement "Now, are you going to be sensible, and get up onto your knees nicely, so I can reach between those thighs of yours and wank you, so that there's your cum to lube your hole?"
Another muffled "Fuck you!" was all I got.
"All right, Jason... But don't say I didn't offer....."
Look, you don't want to read all the details of how I fucked Jason. After all, we've all fucked, or been fucked, and so we know what it's like. All I can say is that the way I was taking Jason was a position I like - I forced his legs apart so I could half kneel, half lie between them, prised his butt cheeks open so I could see his hole, and then entered him as he lay there. He screamed, of course, and tried to stop me - but his ability to thrash around was severely restricted; and, as you know, a guy with a rock-hard cock can always used it to batter open an asshole, however tightly its owner tries to keep it clenched shut. And once you're in, it's all over, isn't it? Well, all over for the guy underneath, who simply can't stop you. And unfortunately, it was all over for me all too soon! The pent-up desire to fuck Jason and the struggle to subdue him had left me so aroused that after a very few strokes I felt that wonderful tightening in my balls as they got ready, soon followed by that fantastic, convulsive jerking of my cock as it pumped my cum deep inside him.
I lay on top of him afterwards as I allowed my body to calm down after this fantastic session. We were both covered in sweat, and it felt ever so slightly cool, in spite of the heat of Jason's body under me, as it evaporated. I left my cock in him as I moved my head to rest on his shoulder blades, and whispered "There, Jason.... You'll be sore, but it's your own fault.... You should have let me lube you."
To my amazement I didn't get back another foul set of abuse from him. Instead, he seemed to be slumped, and just lay there. So I went on "You know the drays across the way seem to have enjoyed seeing you get fucked. They've watched you fuck me often enough, I suppose - but when we were allowed to go over there, you never let them fuck you, did you? You always said that whiteys were naturally superior to niggas, and that nigga cock wasn't allowed up a whitey's ass."
I paused for dramatic effect, and went on "But maybe there's a lesson you need to learn, Jason - and an interesting one for them, too..... Perhaps I should invite one or two, or even three, of them over here, and show them that nigga cock can perfectly well ream a whitey's ass? I can, you know - I'm in charge again...."
At first, I didn't hear what he mumbled. So I slapped his shoulder, and said "Louder!"
"No, Steve, don't...."
"I think you missed out something there, Jason.... You don't give orders to me any more, you know. You can ask me things, though. And didn't you learn in school how to ask for things nicely?"
To my amusement - and pleasure, I suppose, as I recognised I was getting control of him back - he muttered "Please, Steve. Please, no."
Much as I'd have liked to lie there, my cock buried in Jason's tight ass and his lovely sweaty body taking my weight, I knew I had work to do. So very reluctantly I eased myself out of him and got to my feet. I thought for a moment about finally humiliating Jason totally by making him clean up my cock, but with him tied to the floor by his snout ring, this was not really practicable without a lot more effort. So I slapped his butt in a way that was both sort of friendly, and designed to show him that I was in control, and said "Tomorrow, Jason, I think you'll be pulling me, so be sure to get a lot of sleep and be well rested as I'll need to tour the entire estate. And I'll be in a hurry, so you'll need all your strength as otherwise you'll be feeling the whip where my hand just slapped you!"
I thought I detected another "Fuck you!", so I slashed at his butt with the whip again, quite enjoying seeing how he flinched and did his best to avoid the strokes.
"Say what you like now Jason", I added. "As tomorrow you won't be saying anything, with the bit in!"
I strode off before he had chance to say anything else, then stopped at the clean-up area to take a shower - I suppose it was habit, really, as I could have gone over to the palace and done it in privacy. But I saw the stable slaves peering at me nervously as I soaped myself, waving them away as it was good to be able to do this for myself for a change, rather than having to stand there and have someone else clean me. Then, dressed in clean slave shorts and a clean T and with that incredible feeling you have when you're sexually satisfied, squeaky clean, and full of enthusiasm and energy for the future, I strode over to the palace to pick out a room for myself - it seemed best, at least until I was sure I had secured my position with the Sheikh once more, not to use my old quarters in the "free" part of the palace, but instead chose a large room - with a very lage bed, and a private shower - in the quarters reserved for senior slaves.
As it happened, I didn't get to drive around with Jason the following day. Instead, I went very early to the accounting offices and demanded from the weary manager and his toiling slaves the latest state of play. For the rest of the morning I was adsorbed in reviewing the perilous financial state of the Sheikh's affairs, and I say "perilous", rightly, as his expenditure was far exceeding his income.
When we think of Sheikhs I suppose that most of us conjure up is a stereotype with which the TV has made people all over the world familiar - a white-robed man in dark glasses descending from his private jet with a vast entourage of wives and servants, about to plunder the stores on Manhattan or the casinos of Las Vegas; or mingling with aristocracy and royalty as his string of fabulously expensive polo ponies and his highly-paid professional riders play a chukka; or perhaps sitting on his huge "yacht", almost the size of a cruise liner, moored in the harbour at Monte Carlo. There are of course sheikhs who can indulge in this conspicuous consumption, as their income is still buoyed up by a sea of oil, but "my" Sheikh was not like this - the oil revenues had long since been spent (mostly wasted), and he once again relied on the meagre taxes he could raise from his people in this desolate place where there were not very high incomes, and in the profits he made from growing the crops on his extensive land holdings (profits which ought to be fairly substantial, as there was no labour cost involved in planting, tending for, and harvesting them).
His income, although fabulously high by the standards of "ordinary" workers in normal societies, had a lot of calls on it: he had a "position" to maintain as ruler, the expenses of operating and maintaining the palace were considerable, he contributed generously to the welfare and health care costs of his subjects, and so on.
The more I looked at the books, the more I realised he was living way beyond his current income, as the manifest failings of Marc in running the estate had virtually wiped out the profits that this business ought to have produced. We needed urgently to dramatically reduce expense, or to find other ways of increasing income in the short term as the crop business recovered.
It was not a pleasant interview when I broke this news to the Sheikh later that day - he professed to be "unaware" of his finances, as he had been unconcerned about the way the estate was run. He tried to stop discussion of this whole area by cutting into my exposition and saying "Yes, Steve. But enough of this boredom. Tell me how plans for the crucifixion of the slave are progressing - I need some amusement and excitement."
"I have been concentrating on understanding the position we are in, Highness...."
"...and neglecting my interests, Steve! You know I am a firm believer in the importance of being seen to punish slaves who disobey, and especially slaves who ferment revolt. And my plan to punish Marc is known, Steve - I heard some of the bath boys discussing it this morning as they assisted me. It is essential that the slave be punished, and punished as scheduled.
Go and ensure all is progressing, the stage...."
"Highness, are you sure you wish to continue with this? The slave was a very special favourite of yours, and I regret to tell you that you cannot afford to replace him: young, lithe whiteys like him currently fetch very high prices in the markets. Would it not be best simply to trade him in for a new slave to minister to you....."
"No, Steve! All the other slaves know he is to be punished. If the sentence is not carried out, I will not be seen to be in control of matters."
"Highness, what do you care for the opinions of slaves? You are their owner, and the ruler of this kingdom: it is you who makes the rules, you who decide what shall be done. And it is their lot to accept your wise judgement.... And without a pleasure slave, highness, your nights will be lonely."
"I must accept that, Steve. I cannot be seen to be weak. If the slave is not punished, others will be tempted to revolt. Now, go and make sure preparations are in hand. And select a suitable nigga for my bed tonight - I must accept, I suppose, that I can no longer afford the pleasures of a young whitey."
"But sir...."
The Sheikh glowered. "You are a slave, Steve! I did not like the way you used to argue with me sometimes when you were a free man, but I had to tolerate it on occasion. But not any more - do as I command, or in addition to the crucifixion I will command the public whipmaster to attend, and stripe that back of yours permanently....."
I decided not to press the issue further as the Sheikh was known to have a short temper, and having seen whippings with a "proper" whip, administered as a very severe punishment, I had absolutely no desire to be the victim of one. At the same time, I did think the Sheikh was being a little unfair - I had not much time for Marc, but he hadn't had much of a life: captured and enslaved at sixteen, fucked by me, used by the Sheikh as his sex toy.... And now to lose his life at such a young age because of some indiscreet remarks made after tender scenes of passion with his lover. But perhaps most of all I was annoyed that my authority was being usurped: I was in charge of the estate again, I'd told the sheikh he couldn't afford to replace Marc, and that Marc should be "traded in" at the dealers, and my advice was being ignored.
Still, I couldn't afford to disobey, and went about arranging for the construction of the stage, and for the slaves to be lined up the following day to witness Marc's punishment. When it came to selecting a slave for the Sheikh's bed, however, there was more of a problem: he liked young slaves, and they had to be relatively lithe and agile so they could "perform" for long periods, riding up and down on his cock as it always took him a considerable time to cum. None of the slaves about the palace seemed suitable, and I could hardly bring in one of the coffled field slaves as many of them were simply untrained in the civilised behaviour - once on a coffle, they tended to piss and crap whenever they wanted, as Jason did, and I wondered what the Sheikh's reaction would be if he woke up to find his bed soaked in slave piss.
As I continued to ponder my choices, I saw the drays heading back towards the stables and the solution presented itself. There had been a young nigga who had joined the team a couple of weeks before - he must have been nineteen or so, I suppose, but was big, strong and exceptionally well muscled as were all the niggas chosen to be drays. I expected that as he matured he'd develop that thick, solid layer of muscle that all his fellows had, but at the moment he was just a "normal" well-set up guy. The drays were always quite particular about crapping and pissing, as being so many of them sleeping in such a confined space they took care to ensure that they could control themselves so that their excreta could be done in the corner of their stall, and I supposed he'd be properly trained in that respect.
I ordered the stable slaves to thoroughly prepare the young dray - inside and out - and when I collected him later that evening I was well pleased with the result. They had freshly shaved him all over, and his jet black nigga hide positively shone and glowed with health and the effects of the slave oil. I ordered him to bend over and spread his buttocks, and when I pushed my finger in to his ass the effect was all that one might hope for - he was relaxed enough, having been used by his fellow drays, so that he did not scream, and yet his sphincter was still strong and subtle offering just the right amount of resistance. Feeling me inside him, he began to massage my finger with his muscles, and it was all together a most pleasing performance. When I pulled my finger out it was moist and yet sweet, and once the dray stood up, he respectfully fell to his knees so that he could take my finger and lick it clean with his delightfully pink tongue. All in all, I thought, the Sheikh should have nothing to complain about in terms of his ability to provide a proper sexual experience. Mind you, the nigga was big, in every sense - tall, much taller than me, and very impressively hung: his cock was in proportion to the rest of him and swung freely on top of low-hanging balls the size of pullets eggs: I wasn't sure how the Sheikh would react to having such a young giant in his bedchamber - or, rather, I felt sure he would not particularly relish the experience, as the contrast between his own fat, bloated body and short, stubby cock would be very great.
Very carefully I "briefed" the young nigga on his role - he was to be totally obedient, very humble, and focussed only on the Sheikh's pleasure. He was not to speak, and must continue to "ride" the Sheikh until the Sheikh allowed him to stop, however tired he got. I ordered the nigga to kneel and wank himself as I watched, rather enjoying seeing his huge cock spurt out loads of thick, rich cum: it would of course be totally unacceptable for the Sheikh's cock in his ass to excite him to the point at which he might spontaneously cause him to ejaculate, and at least now his balls were relatively empty.
It was a bit like the old days, I suppose, when I had first introduced Marc to the Sheikh: the old man insisted I stay, and lie next to him on the bed to make sure that all went well. I commanded the nigga to arouse his owner, and the big buck bent over the Sheikh's groin and took the small, slug-like cock between his big lips and worked away enthusiastically - I rather enjoyed seeing the muscles in his back stretching and relaxing as he worked away, especially as he had one of those spines where the backbone is visible its whole length. Then, when the Sheikh signalled that he was ready, I ordered the nigga astride him and was pleased with the way he did this with enormous care, so that the small white erection slid easily into his ass - although not very far, of course!
I'll say this for him: the nigga gave every appearance of enjoying his ride! He never stopped smiling as he worked away, and work it was: he was a big, heavy guy, as I've told you, and both the Sheikh and I enjoyed watching the powerful muscles in his long thighs powering away as he strained to raise and lower his body and properly "work" the Sheikh's cock. Mind you, the sight of his long, thick nigga dick was a little disconcerting as it was so very big as it bounced up and time in synchronisation with the rest of him, and I don't think the Sheikh particularly liked the way his balls slapped against the Sheikh's flesh. The nigga was soon covered in sweat, and I have to say that there's is something particularly attractive, I find, about seeing little rivulets of sweat running down the hard ridges and valleys of solid muscle, especially when the skin has been shaved totally smooth and oiled: it forms trickles then drops, which re-form.... Totally fascinating.
After abut thirty minutes I began to et concerned that the nigga's stamina would fade, but he kept up his work until at last the Sheikh gave a great sigh, and commanded him to stop - but to remain crouched over him so that his cock remained lodged in the nigga's ass until the Sheikh's ejaculations were spent. When the boy was finally allowed to "dismount", I asked the Sheikh if he should sleep on the floor at his bedside as Marc had done, but the Sheikh shook his head, and I dismissed the young dray telling him to rejoin his companions in the stables.
"That was excellent, Steve: you chose well. His muscles massaged me and thrilled me....."
I smiled my acceptance of the Sheikh's praise of my choice, but he continued "....but it will not do. I have become accustomed to smaller, more lithe, slaves.... And it is aesthetically more satisfying to have a whitey, rather than a nigga. You will procure one of those for me."
"Highness, I have explained.... The expense.... We simply cannot afford it currently. Perhaps your Highness could accept a nigga for a year or two, whilst our finances recover: one or two good crops...."
"NO, Steve! I particularly want a whitey."
"The only other one available, Highness, is the pony, Jason. He is big and strong and muscular, but a real whitey.... He is not used to taking cock, but I can train him quickly - indeed, I am training him already to allow a man's cock entry to his ass. And his thighs are powerful enough so that he can 'ride' you for long periods...."
"Are you mad? Do you consider me some kind of pervert? Fucking my pony... Who has ever heard of such a thing? I would be the laughing stock amongst my friends, if such a thing were to be found out!"
"We can keep it secret, Highness...."
"Nonsense. As you know, there are no secrets here with so many slaves in the palace. I will not be the subject of salacious gossip."
"Well, Highness, other than Jason, there is only Marc...."
"...who is to be punished tomorrow. Of course, Steve, there is you... It would save a lot of time were I to decide to use you as my plaything here in my bedchamber. We could discuss matters of importance to the estate as I fucked you...."
I felt a cold sweat break out on me! No way did I want to have to spend every night with this old man's cock up me, especially if I would be expected to talk business as he used me. Thinking quickly, I responded "It would of course be an honour, Highness. But I understood you to particularly enjoy younger slaves..."
"You are right. I might use you occasionally as an interesting variation on my usual pleasures, but on a regular basis it would be less than satisfying."
"Am I right in supposing, Highness, that the slave Marc would be perfect for you in every way..... If he did not have to be punished."
The old man's eyes seemed to fill with tears. "Yes, Marc was good and exciting and gave me great joy, until his disloyalty.... His flesh was exciting, and he could be tender.... And now he must be punished. It is announced....."
"Highness, if he could be punished in a way that did not cause his death, then all would be fine. He could resume his duties here...."
"But it is announced that he is to be crucified. And as I told you, I cannot be seen to rescind the order, without losing face."
"Highness, the coffled slaves are being lined up to witness a punishment.... That is all that has been said. That it is to be a crucifixion is mere speculation...."
I saw a glimmer of hope in the Sheikh's eyes. "But you can devise a punishment that will be seen to be sufficiently severe.... Without permanently 'damaging' him? I would not like a eunuch in here - it might change his character without his hormones flowing - so gelding is not an option."
My plan seemed to be working, so far! I had though that the nigga dray would be at once exciting but intimidating, and had been proven correct. Now I needed to keep the Sheikh's interest, so I slipped off the bed to retrieve something form my slave shorts, and came back and showered several small objects onto the luxurious silken bedcover, near the Sheikh's hands.
"Feel these, Highness..."
I watched as he fingered the items one by one, and finally he said "What is this, Steve? Some bits of plastic, glass, metal...."
"They are prosthetic testicles, Highness. See, they come in various sizes. And the plastic ones are designed to feel 'spongy' if squeezed, rather as a real testicle does if you are squeezing hard enough to cause real pain. And the metal one - it's stainless steel actually - is specially designed to be 'heavy': it will drag the sac down, and make one of a pair of extremely low-hanging and mobile balls.... Rather as the nigga's balls were swinging tonight."
"Yes, but I have said that a gelding would not be acceptable. How does this help?"
"I propose that we only half geld Marc! We do it in public, without anaesthetic. The assembled coffle slaves will see his agony as one of his testicles is sliced out. Most of them will probably not realise that only one is being removed anyway. They will all see this a a very great punishment: in spite of being slaves, they are still men, after all, and they will have watched Marc being un-manned. And then, afterwards, we get the veterinarian to sew one of these prosthetic testicles in place of the real one: you can select whether you would particularly enjoy squeezing one, or seeing Marc hang very low...."
"But I said I do not want a gelding. The changes... He could become soft and flabby, his voice would change...."
"No, Highness! Not if we take only one testicle. A young guy in his prime, like Marc, produces much, much more semen than he ever needs, and his hormone production is anyway regulated by other hormones in the body. One testicle will suffice to keep him as a 'man', and to provide a fountain of cum should you elect to allow him some release. I have all of this on the authority of the veterinarian, who loaned me these stones anyway."
I saw the old man begin to smile. "Yes, Steve. Your solution appeals to me. Most subtle. I will be seen to be punishing Marc in an extreme way, and yet I will still have the use of his body."
"There is one more thing, Highness..... We should agree everything in advance, tonight...."
The old man nodded, and I continued "To help raise revenue, he must be studded, regularly. Many of your colleagues and neighbours will pay substantial sums to have such a handsome whitey bred into their herd. And watching him perform will be an added interest as an entertainment in the afternoon."
"Agreed."
"And we must make sure he cannot ferment sedition against you again. Not with your nephew. Not with anyone. Ever. I have a plan for this...."
"Do not bother me with details. I agree with you, of course. See to it. Indeed, go now and make sure all is arranged for tomorrow." The old man paused, and said finally "And I think I like the steel testicle - if there was ever a criticism of Marc, it is that his balls tended to contract as I fucked him. Perhaps now he will be even more desirable!"
End Of Part Twelve.