THE INSTRUMENT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Three
It was a pretty routine day on the estate. With so many slaves you just know there are going to be some who don't turn in their full quota of work, but one of my jobs is to "prowl" around looking for slackers, wherever they might lurk. You don't often find them on the coffles, of course - the need to work at the same pace as your coffle mates to keep the line moving evenly across the field sees to that (and the overseers are on a productivity bonus, so they are not even remotely tempted to let the whole coffle slack). But elsewhere on the estate the slaves have a little more freedom, a little more discretion in how they do their duties - I mean, you can't have the chefs shackled, or the waiters, can you? And the gardeners who mow the lawns and tend the exotic foliage plants n the pleasure grounds need some freedom of movement, too. So I "prowl" around the estate for most of the day, just making sure all the slaves keep up their maximum output all the time. They know that if I find them not totally focussed on their tasks they'll get a swift blow from my punishment strap (I carry it prominently tucked in to the back pocket of my shorts, so that as I pass they're all aware of what awaits them if I see them not working).
It's not particularly arduous work, but you do need a free man to do it, as you'd expect. It's never proven very satisfactory to have slaves supervising slaves - somehow the knowledge that they themselves are subject to being punished physically makes them resistant to handing out such punishments themselves. And at the end of the day it's only the fear of punishment that keeps a slave really working hard, isn't it? Well, the way I see it, there's no other incentive: he's not going to get a better pay rise, or promoted, or anything, is he? As I've mentioned to you, though, in addition to the strappings and canings I do, and the "ad hoc" punishments as I prowl the estate, the thing they all fear the most is a beating - a real, prolonged, physical beating. None of the slaves want to be put into the fighting pit with me and then have me totally and comprehensibly beat them up (but doing no permanent damage as I have said). So I need to keep really fit and strong for this reason alone, and at the end of the day I usually spend a couple of hours at one of the "hard labour" tasks around the estate - pulling a plough, cracking rocks for a new road, that kind of thing. In the hot sun I almost envy the slaves their nakedness as I work alongside them, as my own shirt and shorts get soaked in my sweat - but it's against the law here for a free man to appear naked, and the Sheikh is a stickler for obedience to the law.
There are only two real problems with my job - the lack of alcohol, and the lack of vacations! Well you can understand the alcohol thing, I suppose - their ju-ju in the sky forbids it, apparently, and, as I said, the Sheikh is a stickler for obeying the law. So if you really want to relax the only thing to do is to have sex - I can take my pick of any of the bucks or bitches on the estate of course, but after a time the endless supply of fit, lithe bodies gets a bit boring and sometimes I wish I was back home with a wife and kids. Not that I've been home for five years - I'm supposed to get six weeks of vacation a year, with the flights home paid, but so far I've never been able to take any of them. They took my passport off me when I arrived "for processing by the police", and it's never been returned and I suppose I've stopped asking for it. But the Sheikh assures me that six weeks more pay is paid into my account - they show me the statements from the numbered Swiss account if I ask them. I've no real need of money here as "everything's found", so I've never had to use any of my savings - although I suppose I ought to ask how I actually go about accessing that account one day.
That evening, though, I was pretty tired after my epic raping of the captured sergeant, and I just didn't fancy working away somewhere. So I went back to my quarters, and told them to bring the new slave boy Marc to me. He had his usual sullen, slightly defiant look as he came in to my room, so I put him across my knees and slapped his butt a few times: it's a good way of learning - he'd soon begin to associate, deep down, displays of ill humour and defiance with physical pain. And in any event it's pretty humiliating for a sixteen year old to have a bare-assed spanking, and so it helps him to continue to learn that his life has irrevocably changed.
Marc had told me that he was really keen on sport - any sport - and there was the World Cup soccer on the TV that evening. I told him I was going to watch it, and that cheered him up a bit and as the slaves served me my dinner I allowed him to sit on the floor at my feet, and fed him scraps of this and that - he was losing the squeamishness about taking food from my fingers that he'd had when he first arrived, as he began to realise how dull a life of eating only slave chow was (although he had to eat his bar of the "puppy" formulation at each meal, even if he didn't want it, as it contains all the stuff needed for a guy who's rapidly putting on muscle, as Marc was).
There was a lesson he had to learn after dinner, though. Once I'd dismissed the serving slaves and we were alone together I sat on one of the couches facing the TV, and sprawled out - then wriggled a bit so I could take my shorts off and sat there in just my polo shirt. Marc came to sit beside me as the match began, but I snapped "No, you're a slave, remember? And I've told you before that slaves don't sit on the furniture! They stand, or, if a free man allows it, they sit on the floor."
Marc glared at me for a moment, probably remembered my hand slapping his butt earlier, and sank to the floor, resting his back against the edge of the couch. "No, slave! Get over here and sit between my legs", I commanded.
Looking very reluctant, he came and sat on the floor between my legs, kind on hunching himself up as if he was somehow embarrassed to have his naked body in contact with my skin. The game started, and I could see he was really excited at being able to see this bit of "real life" as he called it - forgetting, of course, that his life here as a slave was now the reality, and TV sport via the satellite was in fact the fantasy for him.
"Turn around and kneel, facing me!", I ordered. He turned his head, looking startled. "You heard me!", I repeated. "Do it - or come across my knees again whilst I beat the idea into you."
Very reluctantly he raised himself to his knees, then turned around to face me. I could see him listening to the commentary, and the moment there was a roar from the crowd, he turned to face the TV.
"Listen, you fucking slave", I told him. "You need to focus on your work, on the needs of a free man who you are serving. How dare you turn away from me to watch the TV!"
"But I'm missing the game...."
"It is of no consequence. You are a slave, and the only thing that should matter to you is serving a free man. Now, continue to kneel there, and I want to see you keep your eyes on my cock and balls - what finer sight could a young slave boy have than that to watch a free man's cock? Focus on it, enjoy it, learn the subtleties of his it swells and moves as I get excited. If I see you so much as half turn your head away from looking at me, I'll spank you again. Is that understood?"
"Please, Steve...."
"It's 'Sir' to you, slave."
"Please sir, it's the semi-finals... It's...."
"I don't care. And neither should you. All that is in your past life. You need to focus on the here and now - your life as a slave."
He looked pretty rebellious for an instant, and I felt certain I'd be feeling his firm young ass under my hand again, but then his defiance somehow collapsed, and he knelt there, in resigned misery. I gave him a bit of sport though, as I scratched my balls and played with my cock, as you do, and as the evening progressed I even had a couple of erections. Mind you, it must have been tough on him, as like all the floors in this part of the palace it's marble in my quarters, and an hour and a half kneeling on marble is really painful for the knees. I did let him move a bit, though, as occasionally I reached forward and pulled his head down into my crotch so he could enjoy my scent, and then I "encouraged" him a little to lick at my cock (although I stopped him after a while, as I didn't want to cum because I had another of those captured soldiers to look forward to the next day.)
It was a really good game, though, and they went to extra time. I decided to relent a bit and lay back on the couch, resting my head on the arm at one end. Then I patted the surface beside me and told him he could come and lie by me and on me - as usual, he didn't like the thought of this intimacy, but then he realised he could see the extra time! And when they went to a penalty shoot-out, we were both so excited that we were sweating profusely and it was hard for me not to fuck him there and then as his body slid sensuously over mine.
I took him into my bed as he needed to practice sleeping with another man, and it was hard not to resist him - but I knew I needed a really convincing display of fucking, with a big load of cum the next day, and so it was just not sensible to allow myself the luxury of having him wank me, or suck me off (I could not actually fuck him, as he was a virgin and therefore reserved for the Sheikh's first use). I made him jerk himself off, though, as I wanted a good night's sleep and did not want him constantly awake with a hard cock. So I lay there and watched him (more good training in losing his inhibitions), and it was especially good to make him catch his cum and lick his hand clean afterwards: something he said he found "gross", but was prepared to do as the alternative was a good spanking.
The next morning I sent him off to work in the fields without a morning run, as I was conserving my own energy, and after a good breakfast once more went down to the interrogation room. The Sheikh had decided not to attend this time, so I had a little more leeway in the arrangements (he's rather conservative, and believes a slave should only be fucked from the rear, for example). So it amused me to ask the men which of them would volunteer for a beating and fucking - it's not a bad strategy, actually: it's relatively easy to identify the strongest man, the one in command, but more difficult to gauge who's next in line. By asking for a "volunteer", the second-most feels the need to step forward to "prove" to himself, and possibly to his buddies, that he can take it as well as the commander.
I knew I was in for a pleasing morning as the "volunteer" was a tall, redhead. Once out of the cage and ordered to strip, he had that wonderful milky-white skin that only redheads have, although it was marred with a rash of ugly freckles on his forearms and lower legs from exposure to the sun in Ts and shorts. His ass promised much, though - firm and well muscled, blending well with his long thighs. He was almost hairless on his body, but there was a big ginger bush of very wiry hair surrounding his cock and balls, and I decided to take him on his back so I could get a better look at this as I fucked him.
Before that could begin, though, we had to go through the ritual beating of him, and given his milky-white skin, I decided to break with "tradition" and use a cane, rather than a strap. Across the pure whiteness of his buttocks the red line from the cane would be much more pronounced, and would tell his comrades more of the pain and humiliation he was suffering. I knew I had to be careful, though, as it was important not to break the skin at this stage - if the Sheikh wanted to give him away as a gift in a relatively short time, scars on his butt would not be a good idea.
You know it gets a bit boring sometimes when you have to do all this beating and stuff - the cane makes a nice change, I suppose, and it was vaguely interesting to see the red stripes marching across his white skin.
But you can't really concentrate on it and make the most of it when all the audience is shouting and swearing all the time. He wasn't a bad fuck, though - a really nice tight ass, and as I had decided to fuck him on his back, I got to look at the eyes of the guy as he screamed and shouted at me. It means you have to release him and tie him down again, of course, but with a couple of guards standing around with their prods at the ready, that's not a problem really. I had him tied so that his wrists were stretched downwards to the front legs, but used long ropes to pull his ankles wide apart and almost back to his head, so he was really utterly and completely exposed to me.
He thought he'd try to spit at me as I entered him, though - a big gob of it flew towards me. I had a bit of a warning, as he stopped shouting and swearing at me as he gathered all his spit ready for it, so he missed my face (although it hit my shirt). Well, you can't allow the guy being punished to get away with stuff like that, can you? So I pulled out of him and stood there between his spread-eagles legs, looking down at him along is body. His cock had flopped forward onto his belly and his balls were therefore lying right in front of me - I slapped at them, hitting them quite hard, and that took all thoughts of any more spitting right out of his head! I thought he was going to vomit with the pain, but fortunately he didn't, and I simply smiled quietly at him so he knew that there was more punishment like that if he tried spitting again.
I thought it would add another bit of humiliation if he got covered in my cum, so as I was about to shoot I pulled right out of him and allowed my cum to spew forwards onto his belly and chest - I must be getting old, I reckon, as in my young days I think I could have reached his face with my initial spurts. Before I finished, though, when there was still that last "ending" after-flow of cum, I plunged straight back into him, really hard, feeling my balls slam into him and letting the others see that there would still be a load of my cum inside him.
Like the sergeant the day before I did not allow him to pull back on the few tattered rags he had been wearing when he came out of the cage, and thrust him back amongst his fellows with shit and sweat trickling down between his thighs. I then went over to them and said, as casually as I could, "So, two down, and still four to go..... You know one or other of you is going to break and tell me the truth, so why put yourselves through all of this? It's fun for me, as you can see, to have six virgin asses to fuck, but the two so far don't seem to have enjoyed it quite as much as I did. Still, I'll see all you guys again tomorrow...... And I think I'll take the young blond one.... I've had two really big guys so far, and so you at the back, the young-looking one, will be tomorrow's little exercise."
Before they could react, I turned and left, knowing that the poor guy would now spend the next twenty four hours worrying about what was going to happen to him. It put me in quite a good mood, actually - I knew the Sheikh wanted to hear them "confess", and the earlier they did it, the better: he relies on me as his instrument in these things, and if an instrument isn't playing well, I suppose there might be unfortunate consequences.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful - I prowled around the estate and caught a few slaves slacking, and as I patrolled I caught sight of Marc working away - it was the day when one of the dray slaves had been harnessed to pull the mover that cuts the broad swathes of lawn in front of the palace - keeping it green in the desert heat is one of the symbols of the Sheikh's power and wealth. Marc had been told to empty the box that caught the clippings whenever it got empty - the dray stopped, Marc had to kneel down to unhook the box from the mower, run with it to the wagon that was waiting at the side, empty it and return. There's an awful lot of lawn, and a big, big load of trimmings, so it's hard work for the dray and for Marc - he was sweating profusely, and his body was stained with the green sap of the grass. I deliberately didn't stop and speak to him, actually: I wanted him to see that as a working slave who was working properly he was of no special concern or interest to me - it doesn't do slaves any good to think that they're in any way "special" to a free man (and I have to confess that I had got a tiny bit attached to the boy, so I knew I had to be on my guard).
At the end of the day, when I had got back to my quarters, there was no sign of the grass stains on Marc though. I'd given orders for him to be bought to my rooms, and to be properly cleaned, and it can't have been too pleasant for him I suppose. His skin was shining and squeaky clean, and it must have taken a lot of extremely hot water and very diligent scrubbing to get rid of the stains.
As I ate I had him sit at my feet, and I kicked off my sandals and enjoyed the sensation of having my toes tease and caress his cock and balls. He boned up, as you might expect, and this added a little extra amusement: I got his cock between the soles of my feet and "wanked" him so that I brought him almost to the point of climax - there was a big trickle of pre-cum drooling out of his cock. I didn't let him cum, though - that's part of the fun of playing with a sixteen year old - they're so easily aroused, and then when they're not allowed to finish the thing, it makes them really frustrated (and I guess their balls hurt with all that unreleased cum!). Marc began to beg me to let him actually cum, and I found this rather amusing: only a very short time before he'd been hideously embarrassed, blushing, and almost sobbing with shame when I made him jerk off in front of me, and now here he was, asking, no, pleading, to be allowed to do it!
I did finally relent, and said that he could shoot his load, but it did have to be done in the right way with him kneeling in front of me, his butt resting on his heels and his back straight, and with him looking directly at me as he knelt there at my feet, making no attempt to let his eyes lower in shame or humiliation.
It's an important part of a slave's education to learn that all bodily functions are no longer "private" in any way - he is owned property of his master, and if his master wants to see him jerk off, or piss, or fuck, or whatever, that's how it is and the slave should feel no hesitation or embarrassment of any kind in complying. After that, though, I sent him away as the sight of his firm body and lovely cock has made me really horny - I sincerely felt that if I allowed him to sleep next to me I might not be able to restrain myself and would have him suck me off, or perhaps I might even "fuck" him between his thighs.... and as you know I was saving myself for the next day.
The next morning I was really horny, and I could hardly restrain myself from wanking as I lay in bed with my morning hard-on. But although I was expecting the third captured soldier to "break", you ever know, do you? So I "saved" myself, and sprang out of bed and then was really careful not to let the boy (who I'd made to sleep at the foot of the bed where I could touch him with my toes if I wanted to) be too vigorous as he soaped my cock in the shower.
When I went down to the interrogation chamber all six of the captives at once began shouting and swearing, as they usually did (although their enthusiasm for this was now a bit dampened, as I'd given orders for them to be kept short of food and so their energies were at a lower level). I pointed at the slim, young blond and the guards opened the gate and dragged him out, as usual keeping all the others at bay with their prods. He walked almost defiantly towards the "horse", as if to show that he was not afraid, but I could tell from his whole attitude that this was an immense effort of will on his part.
I commanded him to strip and then went and stood next to him. Putting one arm around his shoulders as if to restrain him, I reached down with my other hand and took his cock in my hand. It lay there in my palm, and above the noise from his buddies I could hear him say plaintively "No, please, no.....". I gently teased it with my thumb, and was rewarded with the subtle sensation as it began to "creep" across my skin as he began to get an erection.
"So, boy, you like men, do you?", I whispered. "Perhaps you're looking forward to having my cock up your ass? Have other men been there before?"
"No! I'm not a faggot...."
"No matter.... You like this attention to your cock, though, don't you?" As I said this I deftly moved my thumb backwards, and his moist cock head was now exposed, lying there in my palm.
He and I could both see all his buddies looking at him as he stood there exposed like that, and I now said, in a loud voice "We're going to have a bit of a variation on what we do to you. I'm tired of strapping you and fucking you on the 'horse', and instead I'm going to take you to the next room and scourge your back, butt and thighs with a whip, on the whipping frame. Come on....."
"No!", all the other men shouted. But I simply grasped his now very hard cock, and using it as a kind of handle, half led, half dragged him to the door. Actually, when you've got a guy in your control like that it doesn't make much to make him follow you!
There wasn't actually a whipping frame in the next room - these men were to be given as gifts by the Sheikh, remember, so even if there had been, I could not have used it. Instead it was bare except for a desk and a chair, and I now sat down leaving him standing on the other side of the desk.
"At ease, soldier!", I snapped. And in spite of being naked, he at once stood upright, braced his shoulders, clasped is hands behind his back, opened his feet, and stared straight at me.
He was still erect, and I laughed quietly at him. "So, do you still deny that you are a soldier? You certainly act like one! How many times have you stood like that in front of an officer's desk? Well, not like that exactly, nice and hard as you are, all skinned back...."
He stared straight at me, and muttered "Sir, fuck you, sir."
I laughed openly now. "No, soldier boy. As we both know, it's you who is going to get fucked. Across this very desk. I don't need to have a very young guy like you tied down - I'm going to subdue you jus with my own power and strength: you'll feel the weight of my body crushing yours as I ram my cock up your ass and fuck you hard, really hard. But I think you'd like that - young handsome guys like you, in the army.... I can imagine what your buddies do to you."
"No they don't! We're all soldiers and don't do things like that. We're mostly married, anyway."
I laughed again. "Since when did having a wife stop soldiers enjoying the pleasure of each other? But, no matter - if you're a virgin, it will be all the more fun for me."
Still keeping my voice low and sort of intimate, I went on "Look, soldier, there's no point to all of this, is there? You know that I know that you're a soldier - your very stance gives you away. So why not save yourself a whole lot of pain and degradation and simply say it openly? Just tell me openly and honestly that you're a soldier, and that you and your buddies were sent here on a spying mission, and it will all be over. That's the truth, isn't it?"
He stared at me, but I could tell that his defiance was ebbing away. "Very well then, have it your way!", I said still quiet and calm, showing him that I was totally in control. "Bend forward over the desk - you'll probably find you want to grip the edge of it with your hands to give yourself something to hang on to as I enter you...."
He looked at me, now extremely indecisive, but shuffled forward, and lay his body gingerly across the shiny metal surface of the desk. I moved around to stand behind him, and stroked my hand down his lower back, allowing just the tip of one finger to poke gently into the top of his ass crack, whilst my thumb caressed the base of his spine. I could feel his whole body quivering slightly under my touch, and I did begin to feel rather sorry for him - even if he agreed and confessed to me, he'd be fucked sooner or later - I mean, why would anyone own a handsome young guy like this and not fuck him?
I decided that gentleness was probably the way to break him, and so I didn't spank him or even slap his butt playfully. Instead I stood there behind him, allowing the fabric of my shorts to press against his bare butt, and my legs to rub against his naked thighs. "Oh boy, you're going to be fun....", I whispered. "Such a lovely body..... And it's all so pointless - once I've fucked you, I'm going to have to take you outside and whip you... It's too messy to do it before, as all the blood and flayed skin makes it all but impossible to get into your butt. Still, it's your choice....."
Letting my shorts slip to the floor as I said this, I began to play my dick up and down his ass crack - not pushing in between the buttocks, but sliding it up and down on the surface of them. "Oh yes....", I whispered again. "I'm ready for you, boy. Can you feel my hard cock on your ass? Well, in a few moments, it's going to be in your ass...."
"No, please, no....", he whimpered.
I leaned forward, so my legs pressed against his, my cock pushed along the crack of his ass, and my chest was against his back. I put my hands on his shoulders and half wriggled forward to make myself comfortable. "You like this, I think, boy. I tell you what... I think I'll just fuck you, and not whip you at all. Then I'll tell all your buddies that I didn't need to whip you as you enjoyed taking my cock so much that I decided to let you off the whipping. I'll tell them you didn't cry out with pain and shame as I fucked you, but in ecstasy; and that you begged me to fuck you deeper, and harder...."
"No, sir, please, don't.....", he whispered, his voice now matching mine. But I sensed he didn't mean it... So I shuffled around, and poked my hard dick, not only hard but running with pre-cum, down into the warm, moist cleft between his buttocks and let it slide over the entrance to his ass.
He moaned now, very audibly, and began to move his body almost in synchronisation with mine, as if tempting my cock to enter him. So I did, pushing forward gently, oh so gently, in order to minimise any pain to him but also to prolonging the exquisite sensation as my cock head forced his sphincter open and gradually slid in. And, of course, once the head's in, the rest is relatively easy, isn't it? I slipped forward so slowly and gently that he never cried out at all, just moaned and groaned with the sheer pleasure of it all.
When my pubes were pressed hard up against his tender ass, I didn't immediately pull out and begin fucking him - instead I moved around a little, just a very little, to kind of "ream" his hole a bit, and now he was definitely enjoying it, almost shouting "yes, oh, yes, please....." as I went about it. And at some point he looked back over his shoulder at my face which was so close to him, and as he watched I delicately bit his neck and shoulders, something that a lot of men find totally erotic (and, of course, it "marks" them as being under our control).
I was so turned on that I couldn't stay like this for very long, so I did fuck him then, but gently, very gently indeed - actually it was a whole lot of fun for
me, too, to "play" his body as if it were a musical instrument that would respond to my every touch, rather than simply battering him with my brute strength. And when I'd cum, I lay there, buried in him, enjoying the sensation of his sweaty skin against mine.
I pulled out after a few minutes, then helped hi to stand upright. I faced him, putting my hands on his shoulders, and said quietly "That was your first time, wasn't it? I reckon you liked it, though!"
He nodded, blushing, as if ashamed to admit it. Then he muttered "But my wife, the kids...."
"Don't worry. There's a lot of married guys who discover what sex is really all about. But what are we going to do now? I don't want to have to flay the flesh off you..... And we both know the truth, so why not admit it? Telling the truth about your mission can't be any harder than telling me that you actually like sex with another guy...."
"No, please...."
"Yes! You have to! Now we're going to walk back in there, and I'm going to tell them that I fucked you - which is true. And then you're going to tell them you confessed. And if you do that, I won't tell them that you enjoyed being fucked.... OK?"
It took a couple of rounds of argument to get the poor guy to agree, and I did feel truly sorry for him: the one who does confess is never popular with his buddies. And, of course, any hope he had of ever seeing his wife and kids again was utterly futile: a young, handsome guy like that would be a sex slave for many years, and the fact that he was known to have been "straight" would only add to his attraction.
Back in the interrogation chamber, when he told his buddies, they were angry at first, but then, when he was pushed into the cage with them, my cum now staining his thighs, it seemed as if they forgave him.
There was only one thing that then needed to be done, and later that day the Sheikh accompanied me o the chamber once more, and this time the sergeant stood there, said they were all soldiers on a reconnaissance mission, and demanded to be given access to their ambassador.
The Sheikh smiled, and stood there looking at them. In his perfect Oxford-accented English, he said quietly "I am the ruler of this kingdom, and the absolute monarch with total power. My word is law, and cannot be overridden by the courts. As you have confessed to entering my country illegally, with a potentially malicious purpose, I find you guilty, and sentence you. Sentence you to slavery. Lifelong slavery. You are no longer free men, but slaves."
He turned and walked out as they all began shouting and screaming at him. I stayed behind, and when they had stopped, gave them the hard facts. "Slavery is legal here. You have been condemned to be slaves, and there is no appeal from the Sheikh's sentence. So later today we will begin the process of enslavement, turning you from free men into slaves, slaves who will bear the marks of slavery: all slave stock here is branded with a large 'S' on the butt, and you will also receive an ownership brand on the upper arm. Your slave identification number will be tattooed indelibly into your forearm, and you will be collared.
It may be that your bodies will be decorated n other ways later, but, for the time being, those marks of your new status will be both necessary, and sufficient".
I turned and left, hearing the noise break out behind me again.
Somehow the boy Marc was less than satisfactory in bed that evening - I mean, these young guys are nice for a bit, but when you can't fuck them it does get a bit tedious. And I do prefer a more mature guy, I think - I lay there and thought of the feeling of the young soldier was still with me and I definitely prefer the harder, more mature muscle on a guy like that. Still, perhaps the Sheikh would elect to keep him about the palace... Well, you can but hope, can't you?
End Of Part Three