The Instrument

THE INSTRUMENT

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Fifteen

Jamie still stood there doing nothing - whether he simply couldn't take in what had happened to him and just didn't believe me, or whether he was being defiant, I couldn't tell. But I saw an angry look start to come to the Sheikh's face, so I grabbed Jamie's arm, squeezing his biceps quite painfully, bent my head to his ear and hissed "Listen to me: do a I tell you, and get naked, get naked NOW! Or do you remember that time when you were ten when you were deliberately defiant, even when you'd been warned and warned.... And finally I had to put you over my knee and spank the resistance out of you? You're not so old that I can't do that again, you know... Just do as I fucking well say, and obey me, for Christ sake.... You don't understand, you don't know the danger.... So just do as you're fucking well told!"

I don't know whether it was the urgency in my voice or the threat of the spanking that did it, but as I let go of his arm, Jamie began to slowly - very slowly - unbutton his shirt, and finally let it fall to the floor. He didn't bother to untie the laces of his sneakers - perhaps he was in some way aware that he wasn't going to wear them himself ever again - put used each foot in turn to lever them off. He stood there then in his fashionably low jeans - I could see he was "sagging" as there was a big strip of boxer visible above the waistband, and I had to glare at him and whisper "....and the jeans, son" before his hands reached down and fumbled with his belt buckle and the buttons on this flies. He gradually lowered the jeans to the floor, then stepped out of them.

Both the sheikh and I then stood there looking at Jamie's body. I don't know what the Sheikh thought, but I was staring in amazement at my son who I hadn't seen for some time, and who had matured astonishingly in the interim. He'd gone from being a "schoolboy", a mere kid, to that interesting state of being a very young guy just on the cusp of turning into a real man.

My mind flashed back and I knew I had looked just like him when I was his age - we were both tall, both probably better-built than our fellows (I wondered if Jamie spent as many hours in the gym as I had at his age, as I wanted a strong body to ensure I got picked for the football team). Like me he had prominent, dark aureoles which were surrounded by the beginnings of the thatch of chest hair that I had, and from there a visible trail of hair snaked down across his hard, flat belly (with a nicely turned-in navel) to disappear into the top of his boxers. I remember thinking that it was funny that in this, too, he was like me at his age - not for us the tight briefs some young guys favour, or even those tight elasticated boxers: no, like me Jamie had loose cotton boxers that if they had not had a fly could have doubled as shorts: I wondered if it was for the same reason I chose them at his age - I had so many erections that I needed my cock to be loose, and not all cramped up!

Jamie stood there, clearly uncertain of what to do next. He was shifting his weight slightly from one foot to another as if in some sort of inner turmoil, and his hands moved too, sometimes just hanging loosely at his sides, sometimes almost crossing to the front as if to hide his dick, and sometimes fingering the waistband of his boxers as if very, very uncertain as to what to do next. I knew it was inevitable, though, so I put my arm around his naked shoulders to comfort him a bit - I hadn't had bodily contact with Jamie for a long time, and a strange thrill ran through me: was this how all fathers and sons were with each other in normal circumstances, I wondered? I then said quietly and calmly "OK, Jamie - drop the boxers, and then get those socks off."

"No, dad.... You've got to stop this...."

"I can't, son. Now, just do as you're told. Come on,

I know you're a jock, and you can't be a stranger to stripping publicly - just imagine you're in the locker room, before a match. And I've seen you naked before, you know.... I was around more when you were a kid, so you've got no secrets from me.... And if you take after me down there as much as the rest of you seems to, you've got nothing to be ashamed of: most guys are proud of cocks like ours."

"But dad, the old guy.... The way he's looking at me...."

"Just ignore him, Jamie. You've got to do this. I'll explain it all later, but we're both in big, big trouble if you don't get a move on. Trust me....."

Reluctantly, and slowly, very slowly, Jamie put his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and did that kind of combined stretching of it and shuffling of his hips that caused them to pass over his butt and slip down his legs. He stepped out of them, and as he did so he did that thing a lot of guys do when they strip off - as if it was a reflex, he reached down and gave a little "flick" of his cock to free it from where sweat had stuck it to his balls. Even through the thick dense forest of pubic hair (he matched up to me in that score, too), I could see his thick-ish cock was properly in proportion to the rest of him, and, like me, his balls hung low in their sac. Mind you, like a lot of free guys he did look a bit strange: his torso and lower legs were heavily tanned, whereas the band around his butt and upper thighs were lily white - when I was a kid the fashion was for small bathing trunks, like Speedos, but I supposed this was the effect of today's fashion for long-legged "swimmers". I sometimes wonder if guys who wear stuff like that at the pool or beach realise just how ridiculous they look when the do strip completely off.

"Now the socks.... Come on....", I said calmly, and Jamie bent down to pull them in turn off his feet. I was glad to see his mom had always ensured he had loose shoes, as his toes were long and not deformed in any way - indeed, there was something almost sensuous as they wriggled slightly on the smooth tiles of the floor.

The Sheikh's voice broke the silence - his accent was one of barely suppressed excitement. "Excellent, Steve, truly excellent! You have clearly sired a son who shares all the splendour of your body. I always enjoy seeing a man bend over as he just did, and what I have witnessed of your son's long, lean thighs as he pulled his socks off tells me that this slave holds many, many delights for me."

I could see Jamie starting to look distressed, and I said "Highness, please....."

"No, Steve. Let us have no uncertainty over this. Your son is a slave, as are you yourself, and you know a slave has no need of false modesty, no need to be concerned about displaying his body to his owner, or to anyone else his owner commands. After all, I own him, and you could therefore expect me to wish to look at my possessions - especially when they are as intoxicatingly sensual as your boy is."

He carried on staring - or was it leering - at Jamie for a few seconds, and before I could say anything else he continued "The resemblance to you is so truly astonishing that I think I wish to make a closer comparison. Be so good as to unclothe, Steve, so I can compare you two more closely."

Look, I knew it was futile to argue with him. Indeed, the more I argued, the more unpleasant things he would probably think of me to do. And, of course, I'd been naked in front of him many, many, many times. So I ought to have had no problems with just shucking my shirt and shorts. But when I saw Jamie staring at me, almost in horror at the idea of us both being naked, I hesitated. Even that slight hesitation didn't escape the notice of the Sheikh, but fortunately I saw the way his mood was about to change and before he could say anything else I reached down, grabbed the hem of my polo shirt and pulled it up over my head, and then let the thing drop to the floor.

Jamie's look of horror changed to one of shock when he saw the rings in my tits - well, you can hardly escape seeing them as they're so big and thick, and with the exceptionally well developed pecs that I've got, they hang down. Or was it the glinting of the lights in the highly polished surface of the steel that caught his eye?

I sort of hoped that this would be enough, but the Sheikh made a little twitching gesture with his hand that indicated he wanted more, so I undid the button holding he top of my shorts closed, slid down the zip, and let them fall. I kicked my sandals off as I stepped out of the fabric bunched around my feet, and stood there utterly naked.

Jamie was really staring at me now - it was possible, I suppose, that he was surprised at my all-over tan that was so rich and deep: well, if you'd been working as I had as a pony totally naked in the fierce sun it was hardly surprising, and even after my return to power as the Instrument I'd found it so much less of a fuss just to go swimming naked, so keeping the colour deep and even.

"Astonishing!", the Sheikh commented. "You two really are so alike,"

"Yes, Highness, when I look at my son I can almost see myself as I was at his age."

"Ah, so I have an excellent investment! The boy is very tempting as he is, as a young stripling buck; but the thought that he will mature and grow into a fine, strong beast like you, Steve, is very pleasing. And, of course, I could demonstrate that your genes 'breed true' into your progeny: when I decide to stud you, that will mean that I can charge a very high level of fees."

A small chill went through me at the thought of him putting me to stud - not because I didn't know how to fuck a woman, as, after all, I had been married and fathered Jamie, but because to me that's the ultimate degradation that you can put a slave to. Not only do you totally own and possess him, but you can require him to perpetuate his slavehood down into the future. It's not right - a man ought to be able to fuck who he wants and sire his kids when he wants to, not at the whim of his owner. But I knew it was futile even starting to argue the point, so I stood there silently.

"I think I want a better comparison. Stand back to back, so I can gauge which of you is the taller", the Sheikh rapped, breaking my momentary reverie.

Jamie's eyes went even wider as he heard this, so I put one hand on his bare shoulder to reassure him and said as calmly an as quietly as I could "It's OK, son... Just carry on doing as you're told, and everything will be all right."

I turned him so that he was sideways-on to the Sheikh, then took up position behind him, so we were back to back.

"I can't see properly like that, Steve", the Sheikh called out. "I want to make a proper comparison. Get right up close."

It was no use arguing, so I kind of shuffled slowly backwards. As my butt touched Jamie's he gave a little quiet cry, and in return I whispered "Now stand up straight, brace yourself, shoulders back... Make a good impression!"

Jamie's shoulders were hot against mine, too, and as we stood there in such intimate contact I could feel him trembling slightly - we were both sweating, and his small movements caused our buttocks to rub against each other. I know it was wrong, but for some reason I found the whole thing rather erotic, and I could start to feel an erection building - something I desperately tried to stifle. I hoped that Jamie was not having the same problem - after all, I was more or less used to springing a boner in front of the Sheikh, but I doubted that Jamie has ever had anyone else see him in this intimate state (well, I suppose one or other of his girlfriends might have - if he took after me in behaviour as much as he did in looks, he'd certainly have fucked around a bit at school by now!).

"Excellent, truly excellent!", the Sheikh said. "The boy is within a hair's breadth of being the same height as you, Steve. And I suspect he has a little more to grow. You are a delight to the eye, Steve, as your tall frame carries your muscle so well - but this boy, if taller, and if rigorously exercised to put on proper muscle, has the potential to surpass you."

I hated being described like this - I mean, Jamie and I were men, weren't we? Not some prize cattle in a stock show, whose owners would decide the amount of muscle they would exhibit. But even as my anger started to rise at this humiliation, the next words were even worse.

"So now turn around and face each other. I find it hard to make a proper comparison of your cocks. So face each other, to make it easier."

I turned, and found Jamie still standing where he was, as if frozen into inactivity. I put my hand on his bare shoulder again and said very quietly, hoping the Sheikh would not hear, "Come on, son. It will soon be all over." As I said this I tugged gently at him to cause him to turn, then, seeing the scared look in his eyes, I kept my hand on his shoulder as we faced each other.

"You are both beautiful", I heard the Sheikh say (something which caused Jamie's already deep blushes to get even worse). "But I cannot judge the length of your male members properly. Be so good as to become erect, and then move towards each other and tell me who touched who first."

I could see Jamie's lips forming a "NO!", so squeezed my hand on his shoulder, that caused him to stop. "Come on, Jamie", I hissed. "It's no big deal. Remember, there's danger here for both of us if you don't obey."

His head began to move to signify "No", but I tried to smile faintly to reassure him, muttering "It's no big deal, really. Come on, guys get erect all the time. I bet you've been hard several times already today."

He was looking away, trying to avoid my direct stare, so with my other hand I reached down and began to stroke my dick into hardness - you might think it would be difficult, given the anger and shame I was feeling, but of course I'm not all that old, and you guys I'm sure know how it is: a bit of teasing of your dick, and it will usually want to show how big and firm it can get!

Gripping Jamie's shoulder even harder now, I said calmly "OK, son, come on.... You've seen how it's done. Now, are you going to do it, or shall I stroke your dick for you?"

"No, dad!" Even though he was clearly terrified, or most probably angry, Jamie's voice was a whisper in reply - it's often like that, isn't it? If you keep your voice low, the other guy does so too.

I carried on staring at him, now directly into his eyes, and retained my grip on his shoulder - I suppose he could have twisted away from my grasp, but it's kind of psychological to exert control over a guy like that, isn't it? I felt, rather than saw, the slight movement in his body as his hand went across and he began to stroke himself - slowly at first, and then when evidently it wasn't having the desired effect, harder and faster.

When he stopped and a quick look down showed that he was hard and erect, I started to move forward. But the Sheikh called out "No, Steve, that's not fair! You're getting on a bit, and your cock is not even horizontal, even though I can see you are properly erect. But the boy's is reaching for the sky! It looks to me as if he wants his cock head to touch his belly! I do like that in young men, that extra virility it implies. But it's unfair to compare the length of your cocks that way. Wrap your hand around both of them so that they're side by side."

I hated it. I mean, a guy doesn't want to have an erection in front of other guys, does he? (well, not unless the other guys are about to be fucked by him!). But there was no point in delaying. Once the Sheikh had commanded it, I was going to have to do it sooner or later. And if I delayed, there would be an opportunity for Jamie to do something foolish. So, still keeping a grip on his shoulder so he couldn't move away, I let my other hand snake across and grab his dick. A couple of quick shuffles then and our dicks were side by side, with my hand wrapped firmly around them.

Look, when I was with Jason I quite often liked to hold our dicks close together like that - I think it's incredibly sensual to feel the heat of another guy's dick all the way along the length of yours, and if you start to rub them together, the slight stretching and stuff that you both experience just adds to the excitement. But when it's your son's dick, it's different, isn't it? I mean I suppose I'd touched Jamie's dick before, when he was a tiny kid and needed help going to the bathroom, but as he got older I'd never done it. And you know how it is when guys get to puberty - as soon as Jason started to grow his pubes I never even saw his dick again, let alone had any opportunity to touch it!.

I reckoned I'd better get it over with as quickly as I could, and moved forward. The end of my dick gave a little thrill as Jason's wiry pubic forest made contact with it, but to my amazement I felt the end of his dick touch me before I made contact with his skin!

I've always got the idea that I've got a big dick, bigger than almost all the other guys I see, so this did surprise me. But then I thought that if Jamie was already as tall as I was, and was going to end up taller, it probably wasn't surprising that his dick was a few millimetres longer than mine.

Evidently the Sheikh had seen enough, as he slapped his hands and exclaimed "Excellent! Alike in this too, Steve. Except of course for one thing.... Bring the boy over to me, as I wish to take a closer look."

Still erect, Jamie looked dumbfounded as with my hand on his shoulder I "steered" him over towards the Sheikh. We stopped facing him, and I heard the Sheikh say "Put him in 'display', Steve."

Well, as you probably know, "display" is the position that slave owners the world over prefer their slaves to adopt if there is to be a proper inspection of their flesh, or if the owner is proudly exhibiting his property to a guest. The combination of having the hands behind the head, signifying helplessness, and the open stance of the spread legs and the chest and pelvis thrust forward causing the body to be totally open to view, is far the best way of ensuring that a valuable piece of man flesh is exhibited to its full advantage. Jamie knew nothing of this, of course, so I had to fuss around a bit, gently lifting his arms and telling him to clasp his hands behind his head, then putting my foot between his to spread his feet a little more apart, and finally gently pushing his butt forward to cause his pelvis to be positioned correctly. His strong blushes were continuing, and, indeed, the red colour had spread down from his face to his shoulders (my hand print, where I had perhaps gripped him a little too tightly, stood out starkly against it). He was sweating profusely, and the heady scent of it was almost overpowering as I stood so close to him manipulating his body.

"He's lost his erection", the Sheikh commented. "Show him to me properly, Steve."

"Highness, please, no...." I had to protest a this point, as I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, having "shown" slaves to him many times before like this.

"You are my Instrument, remember, Steve. At least for the time being. If you do not wish to perform your proper functions....."

The threat was enough. You may not think that being his Instrument, but a slave, is much - but, believe me, it's infinitely preferable to being just a slave. So I knew what I had to do, and, as I had with others so many times in the past, I knelt behind Jamie - his scent was almost overpowering now, and as my eyes were so close I could see all the tiny droplets of sweat all over his flanks and legs. I eased my shoulder forward so that it pressed against his butt and at the same time my arm wrapped around his waist and I flattened the palm of my hand on his belly. His skin was so hot, and so slippery with the sweat, that I began to feel aroused in spite of the fact that it was my son.

I know from experience that having a slave "locked" in place like this is very powerful - it must be something in the brain, as if the slave is very powerful (as when, for example, we're about to examine a potential new powerfully-muscled dray) there's just no way that your hand spread on his belly and your shoulder against his butt will hold him there. But it always does.

I decided then that I had to try and put aside the fact that Jamie was my kid, and do the job professionally, as I would for any slave. That way the thing would be over as quickly as possible, and, at least if Jamie sensed that it was being done professionally and there was nothing personal in it, he'd be spared as much embarrassment as is possible in the circumstances. So I snaked my other arm around him and smoothly cradled his dick in the palm of my hand, raising it up so that the Sheikh could have a proper view.

The Sheikh leaned forward to examine the dick as if it were some rare object being presented to him in a showroom, and then nodded at me. The next stage is quite difficult, as some slaves react very badly to it, and I found it impossible to forecast how Jamie would behave. But there's no going back, and I curled my fingers lightly around the dick and began to stroke it - not at all difficult, given the amount of sweat there was to lube it!

I think there's something very erotic about the feeling you get as another guy goes hard in your hand, and as Jamie reacted to my ministrations and I felt his thickening dick creeping across my palm, I knew the same was happening to me: I just can't help boning up when I'm getting another guy aroused into that state! I knew Jamie didn't want to be doing this, so it took a few moments before anything happened - but, as you know, he's a young, virile guy, and it's just not possible for a dick on a guy like that not to react when another guy's stroking it, whatever the circumstances! I could feel all Jamie's muscles tensing as his butt pressed against me, and I knew his breathing would be slowing and getting deeper.

When I sensed we'd gone as far as we were going, I uncurled my fingers, and again the Sheikh peered forward to get a proper look.

"Very pleasing!", he told me. "And exactly like you, Steve, except in one respect of course. Be so good as to skin the boy back, so I can see the head properly and make a truer comparison." Look, it's one thing to be holding your son's dick when, like Jamie and me, we hadn't really lived together as father and son for many years, and when I saw him only infrequently as he grew up; but somehow 'skinning another guy back, whether you know him or not, whether he's related to you or not..... well, that's a big thing, isn't it? I mean if you're a guy who's grown up with his dick head nicely covered by a 'skin, it's a really private part of you, isn't it? The only people who get to see it, beside yourself, is your mom when you're a tiny kid and she's bathing you, and the women you fuck when you grow up. Even if you do a lot of sport and stuff and are always changing in public locker rooms, or if you're in he forces and live your life almost communally with your buddies, your dick head stays private, doesn't it? When you shower, you turn decently away from the others when you 'skin back to clean under it, and so you're absolutely not used to having another guy look at you.

Of course as a slave it's all different. Almost 100% of owners have their slaves 'skinned anyway as it's more hygienic, and the slaves don't waste time in the showers (if they're allowed to shower, and aren't just kept dirty like miners, or farm workers). It also tells the slave quite clearly that his old life is over - his owner can decide to have a part of the slave's body removed as he wants it done, and there's not a fucking thing the slave can do about it. It says to him that if his owner can have his 'skin removed as the slave is merely property, the owner could, at any time he chose, decide to have other parts of the slave's body removed equally casually.

So as I knelt there feeling Jamie's body trembling very slightly against mine, I knew this was going to be tough for him. His very private dick head was about to be revealed to others, and to make it worse, it was me who was going to do it - I think he thought of me more as a "dad" than I did of him as a "son": and, anyway, I was used to handling slaves, their dicks, and their 'skins, whereas he was not used to being handled.

"Highness, the boy is my son.... Could one of the other slaves do this for you....", I muttered. I felt my own body was betraying me, as somehow I didn't really want to get these words out.

"I will remind you that you are my Instrument, Steve. Your only function is to manage and control my slaves.

If you do not wish to perform a simple task like displaying this slave fully to me, perhaps I should get myself a new Instrument....."

Well, as I've told you, being a slave was bad, but at least as his Instrument my life was a whole lot better than that of many other slaves, so I didn't want to go down that route! So what option did I have? All I could do was to press my palm against Jamie's belly a little tighter, to remind him that I was still "in control" of him, then with my other hand begin to stroke his dick gently to revive his flagging erection and make him rock solid hard. I heard a faint whimper of "No, dad, please...." Coming from Jamie (too faintly for the Sheikh to hear, I think), but I ignored it. Then, still keeping his dick in the palm of my hand, I used my thumb to gently tease back his 'skin.

I couldn't see what I was doing, actually as my head was half behind Jamie's butt (and the heady odour of sweat streaming down him was therefore very close to my nose as I knelt there), but it didn't matter - I've displayed a lot of new slaves like this, and after a time you get used to it as your thumb gets to "know" what it's doing. It was obvious I was doing the right thing, though, as the Sheikh was craning his head forward to get a better view, and a faint smile was playing over his lips as he evidently got a lot of pleasure from what he saw!

Of course once you've teased the 'skin back and it's kind of "docked" behind the head, you can stop and let go, and this I now did, so that Jamie's dick could stand there proud and erect and in full view.

I continued to kneel there, still "controlling" Jamie so he wasn't tempted to do anything stupid, until the Sheikh said softly "Excellent, truly excellent."

I got to my feet and stood next to Jamie, now putting m arm once more around his naked shoulders to hold him there. I felt some how proud that we were father and son, proud that we both had good bodies, bodies that other men would admire and envy.

"The new slave is extremely pleasing, Steve. I can think of so many ways in which he will be an advantage to me, in addition to the obvious ones of being pleasing to the eye, and providing fresh sport in bed - I always felt that your were overpoweringly mature compared with Marc, and if I decide to take this slave to my bed with Marc, it will be more enjoyable as they are so much more evenly matched. But there will be financial advantages, too: if I decide to stud him, I can point out what strong genes must flow in him and that therefore the progeny will bear a strong resemblance to you both. Or, of course....", and here he gave a little chuckle, "I could decide to stud you - several of my friends have offered considerable sums to have you cover their bitches. And I could now ask a whole lot more, as I could display the boy as a concrete example of what your seed produces. And there again, should I decide to sell you, as a father and son pair you would fetch much more than I could hope to get for both of you individually. Or perhaps I should hire you out as an accomplished pair of slaves, trained to satisfy the needs of jaded men - even those normally satiated by sex will surely thrill to the concept of having a father and son together ministering to their needs!"

A tiny chill of horror was going through me as he said this - he had obviously been thinking of all these sexual possibilities, and it was bad enough that I might have to perform degrading sexual acts for him and his friends. But to have to do so with my son.... Well, I just couldn't bear it. I was about to say something, even though it would probably cause trouble, but fortunately I was saved as he continued "However all this is for the future. First we must remove that ugly white belt around his middle, and secondly I think I would like him a little more toned and buffed. Take him away and hand him over to the slave in charge of my gymnasium complex and order him to work with the boy to improve him - a few weeks of enforced exercise in the nude under the sun should achieve both objectives."

I breathed a sign of relief at this reprieve, but the Sheikh continued "I have not yet decided whether the perfection of such a fine young butt should be marred by the slave brand, so for the moment there is no need to use the branding iron on him. But of course I must uphold the law as an example to all my subjects, and so he does need marking: have his SIN tattooed on his upper arm as is usual, and brand a small house ownership mark underneath it - something small and discreet, but which indicates that he is my property."

I knew it was no use arguing about this - all slaves were branded and have their slave ID's inked into their skin, as had been done to me. So I simply said "Yes, Highness", and hoped that we could manage to get it done with minimal pain for Jamie. But the Sheikh continued "And of course have that pubic thatch properly trimmed and thinned...... And clear his ass of hair, so that when we next meet the traditional taking of his virginity will be more pleasant.

Again that chill went through me as I thought of what Jamie was going to have to endure, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, so I nodded and said "It will be as you command, Highness", and turned to lead Jamie out of the room.

Stupidly, Jamie stopped to go to pick up his boxers and jeans, and made an attempt to start to dress. The sheikh looked at me and remarked "Such innocence! And the sight of him bending like that is so very seductive.... Perhaps we should not wait, and perhaps it would be amusing were you to induct him properly as a slave now."

"It grows late, Highness... Perhaps such excitement for you will disturb your sleep.... And perhaps it would be even more erotic if the boy was properly prepared, and was more buff...."

"As ever, Steve, you think of me, and what you say has some merit. Yes, we will wait - the anticipation will add to the overall pleasure." With that the Sheikh gave a gesture of dismissal, and I grabbed Jamie by the arm and almost dragged him across the floor and out of the room as quickly as I could.

Outside, as the giant doors closed behind us, Jamie stood there looked totally embarrassed and desperately trying to hide his genitals with his hands. "Dad, we're naked....", he hissed, scanning the corridor both ways anxiously.

"It doesn't matter. Come on, let's get out of here before the old man changes his mind...." I grabbed his arm again and strode off at a quick pace, feeling my cock bobbing up and down as I did so. I was used to it, of course, but I could understand what Jamie must be going through. The next concern that struck me was what I ought to do with Jamie that night - I could of course take him to the general slave quarters and have him caged: in a one-man cage there would be no fear of any of the other slaves molesting him, but, on the other hand, he'd have to curl up in there naked and exposed and he'd be able to see all the other slaves disporting themselves around and about him - and I didn't think he was ready for that. So the only choice really was to take him back to my own room, and I headed off down the service corridor that way.

"Don't worry, son", I told Jason reassuringly as we scurried along. "You can stay with me in my room tonight. There's plenty of room for two in my bed, and tomorrow we can get you some clothes."

It was only as my hand reached for the handle of my own space that I remembered that I'd told Jason he was to spend the night there with me, and not in the stables!

As I opened the door I heard Jason give an audible gasp of astonishment. Jason had got tired of waiting for me, and had decided to "amuse" himself. And what way can a guy amuse himself when he's alone and in a featureless room with no books, no TV, nothing like that? Jason was sprawled across the bed, his deeply tanned body in high contrast to the plain white sheets, and his whole frame somehow covering the bed. His nipple and cinch rings were glittering in the light. He was sweating and moaning as his hand stroked up and down his long, thick rampantly erect cock.

End Of Part Fifteen