THE INSTRUMENT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Five
I felt the eyes of all the men in the room on me as I stood there, the ridiculous scrap of white satin of the loincloth barely concealing my manhood. Or were they really looking at Marc - his shaved, oiled body looked somehow so young and vulnerable, and yet it was clear that he was of an age when he ought to be introduced properly to sex. There's that time, isn't there, when a body has all the innocence of youth and yet has started to develop properly so that it is indeed that of a man, albeit a man with development still to do?
I heard the Sheikh call out "Before you begin, Steve, display the boy properly for us. Show my guests that he is properly mature".
I knew what he wanted, of course - he wanted to see Marc masturbated to climax, so that his seed could be admired by the audience. And I suppose it wasn't a bad idea, actually - I wasn't going to fuck Marc without lubrication as there's just no way that my cock could enter his tight, virgin hole when it was dry, without causing damage. I wondered whether to order Marc to wank himself, but I was concerned that he'd start to argue about such an order, and that might cause the Sheikh to be embarrassed when his guests realised that he had such a wilful slave. So it seemed kinder to do it myself, and accordingly I dropped to one knee by the side of Marc, and circled one arm around his butt: his body felt all hot and sweaty as it nestled against me, and I could feel him trembling slightly. To reassure him I whispered "It's OK, Marc, we've done this before.....", and reached up with my other hand and began to stroke his cock into life.
The room had gone eerily silent as they saw the performance about to begin, but fortunately not so silent that Marc's tiny "Don't, please, Steve, not now, not in front of all these men...." could not be heard by anyone other than me. I didn't answer him though, but instead continued to gently tease and stroke his cock, and of course, as you would expect, it began to stir into life and stiffen under my fingers. As I continued to stroke him, now curling my fingers around his totally erect cock I could also feel his buttocks clenching and unclenching against the skin of my shoulder as I knelt there, and this stated to turn me on - to my horror I felt my own cock begin to stiffen, and I sensed the tip begin to nudge against the satin of the loincloth as I knelt there (up until this point I'd been feeling a little less embarrassed, as when I was on one knee the satin hung down and concealed my tackle from the audience).
As hard as I tried, I just couldn't stop myself getting more and more excited - in fact, you all probably know how it is: once your cock has decided its going to go erect, the more you think about it, the more it seems to encourage it to happen! I realised that as I was wanking Marc my own cock had now pushed aside the loincloth and was fully exposed to the watching men, although fortunately I had not' skinned back and so at least my cock head was not fully on display- just as well, as I knew that I'd be leaking pre-cum and if it did pop out it would be all shiny and ready for action.
My ears told me that Marc was about to cum - his breathing had gone all ragged, and I could hear the breath rushing in and out of him as I worked his cock properly - letting my thumb and forefinger roughly slide over the ridge of his cock head, and then rasping the pad of my thumb right over his piss slit.
These actions were spreading the precum that was dribbling out all over my fingers, and so it was getting easier and easier to stroke him without fear of causing a wanking scar, and so I allowed my fingers to tighten on his shaft to give him even more sensation and thus to hurry the climax along.
"OK, Marc", I said when I just knew he was ready "Reach down and catch your cum - if you get any on the marble floor here I'll have to spank you."
He didn't have time to protest as at that moment his body started to shudder convulsively, and his spunk shot out. I stopped wanking him for a few moments, but then started again, to make sure he was properly "milked" dry - quite a lot of guys give up after the first spurt, I know, but if you carry on you get to shoot a whole lot more (although for guys with sensitive cocks it's difficult to do yourself as you get that peculiar mixture of pain and pleasure from doing it, don't you?) Marc's like that, and as I continued to wank him I could feel his whole body shuddering against mine, and I had to curl my restraining arm around him even tighter to prevent him breaking away.
When I was convinced he'd given everything he'd got, I stopped and ran my fingers once more along his cock from root to head, now squeezing his cock like when you're emptying those final drops of piss out of yourself when you've finished. A few more tiny pearls of cum appeared at his piss slit, but then it was over. I got to my feet, very conscious now of my own rampant erection, but then held the naked body of Marc in front of me to shield me from the audience's gaze - I steered him around the room, past all the guests so that they could inspect the big pool of creamy white cum that was filling the palm of his hand. His oiled, sweaty buttocks rubbing against my cock didn't actually help - my erection got harder and harder, but at least no one could see it (although Marc must have felt it, as it stabbed at him as we moved). It was stupid really - after all, they were all going to see sooner or later, going to see my cock in action, but somehow I was less concerned about this than I was at being stared at and observed by their hungry eyes at this moment.
The Sheikh called out "Enough! On with the show, Steve", and with a kind of sinking feeling inside I knew I had to start fucking Marc. I ought to have been delighted - I'd been looking forward to using his ass ever since he had arrived, but I suppose I was still enough of a prude to be concerned at doing this in front of an audience! I hesitated, and heard the Sheikh call "Begin!", in a harsher tone, and knew I now had no choice.
I knelt down on one knee again, and threw Marc across it so that his but was in the air. He began to protest and squirm so I slapped his ass several times, hard, to remind him that I was in control, grabbed his hand that was covered in cum and pulled it up and smeared it down his ass crack. Gripping his neck with one hand to keep him under my firm control, I massaged the cum right down towards his hole, and then, as my fingers were covered in cum, began to gently push the tip of one finger inside him.
He began to whimper and plead "No, no, no....", but it was no use - I soon had my entire finger inside him and began to gently ream it around to open him up a bit, and then waited for his fresh cries of protest as I gently slid another finger in beside the first. I've done this lubing and stretching of virgins before so I knew it's really better to go very slowly and take you time - it's somehow more exciting for both men, I find. But I could sense the Sheikh's impatience, and had to rush it: ideally, I think you need to get three fingers in and then really move them apart to properly open up a guy if he's to take your cock smoothly and easily. Of course they don't always appreciate that this is in their best interests, as a little "discomfort" a this stage can save a lot of pain later, and Marc was no exception: as I forced his hole open with my powerful fingers, he began to scream and shout and swear, so I had to pull out, slap his butt a few times to remind him of my power, before starting again.
When he had been giving me his instructions before the evening began, the Sheikh had decided that Marc was not to be put on a fucking horse. That's the usual way of breaking virgin slaves as you probably know, as once their wrists are secured to the horse they're pretty helpless, But he had said to me "No, Steve. The boy is relatively weak compared with you, and my friends are all used to seeing a slave violated on a horse. You can simply take him in any other way you like, as it will be more interesting to see the slave apparently free to resist you, and possibly even trying to do so, but with you overcoming him. It will all add to the excitement, and it will be more like a rape than the simple customary initial usage of a slave.".
"I'm not sure I like the idea of raping anyone, Highness..."
"Well you will not be raping anyone, will you? The boy is a slave, and a slave is merely an animal who can be used in any way that his owner decides. Only free men can be raped, Steve."
Well, that seemed to shut off any possible arguments I might have, and now here I was, with Marc in front of me, and with me needing to fuck him against his will.
Still, there was nothing to be done, so I snapped at him to bend over and grasp his ankles - he guessed what was about to happen, of course, and tried to protest. He was trying to break free so I grabbed him by the upper arm and roughly slapped his ass two or three more times, as he wriggled and squirmed in my firm grip - all the men began to applaud, and I hit him a bit harder on each stroke so that he began to shout and scream: but got the message. - when I stopped, he obediently bent over.
I prised his buttocks apart so I could see his hole - it was a little angry looking but was flexing and contracting as if in anticipation. I ripped away the scrap of satin, which after all was pretty useless anyway, and stroked my own cock once or twice just to make sure it was maximally erect. Then using one hand to guide my cock, and curling the other one under him so that he was in effect lying on my forearm, I positioned the tip of my cock on his sphincter and began to push.
Look it's not all that difficult, is it? Earlier on I'd told him that when there's a cock trying to get inside you the thing to do is not to resist - it won't work, as a powerful cock is always going to break through an ass hole. If a guy has got you in that position, I'd told him, the best thing to do was to "go with the flow" and pretend you're about to take a crap - that way your sphincter relaxes, and the cock slides in. Marc had kind of nodded in agreement, but evidently he had not taken the lesson to heart - the more I pushed, the harder he resisted, and now he was writhing and squirming to try to escape me, and began to shout and scream again. There was nothing for it - no point in prolonging things and trying to do it gently - I pulled back slightly and then slammed forwards into him, so that my cock head burst through into him.
Well, once you're through, that's ninety percent of it, isn't it? He carried on screaming as I forced the whole length of my cock home so that my pubes were right up against the skin of his butt, and then stood there for a moment. The room had gone silent then, except for Marc's sobbing, and it was almost as if I could hear my own heavy breathing as I stood there with him impaled on me. I'd have enjoyed savouring that feeling for a bit, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the Sheikh give a small hand gesture to me to indicate that I should continue, so I began to fuck the boy.
At first I went slowly, taking long strokes so the whole of my cock almost came out of him each time, but you do need to vary it a bit, don't you? So I changed to a lot of fast, short strokes, with the sound of my flesh crashing into his butt forming almost a constant tone - but one that could clearly he heard above Marc's cries.
Although I felt certain that the audience was enjoying the sight of my powerful thighs and butt thrusting in and out, I don't actually like fucking when standing up all that much. So after a time I swept Marc's feet away from under him and lowered him onto the floor, then threw my body down on top of him, reached underneath myself and positioned my cock at his hole once more, and began to fuck him like that - well, at least he stopped shouting quite so much, as the weight of my body tended to crush the breath out of him.
It's strange, actually - I'd been so embarrassed about this whole thing when the Sheikh had first decided on it, and earlier on I'd genuinely hated exposing my cock to all the watching men. But as my inbuilt animal instincts took over from the "rational" me, all this was forgotten - as I fucked away all I could think of was the incredible sensation in my cock, and the way that my body was working to do that which millions of years of evolution had designed it to do. This was what men did - strong ones fucked weaker ones, and everything else was forgotten as I felt my climax building. I suppose I was dimly aware of the cheers of the men in the background and I suppose I was exhilarated at the thought that they were admiring my body - well, we all like other men to be a bit envious of us, don't we? But that was a secondary consideration - it was the sex that was driving me!
However much you're enjoying fucking, it has to stop sooner or later though, doesn't it? In fact the more you're enjoying it, paradoxically the sooner it tends to stop as your cock just can't restrain itself. And so it was now - all too soon I felt my balls contracting and then the torrent of cum shooting along my dick right up into Marc. I gave a great cry - more a shout of triumph - and plunged into him for one last glorious time, and finally lay on him, conscious of my butt twitching as my aftershocks forced a few last dribbles of cum out of me. I was panting and my heart was racing, and my sweat-soaked chest slid on Marc's oiled and sweaty back. I buried my face in that lovely part of a man, between his neck and shoulders, and bit Marc so that he cried out once more and tried to get away from under me - I really can't help it: after a really great fuck I want to leave my mark on the other guy a bit more permanently. And it's not as if it would damage the Sheikh's property permanently, after all - the dark bruise would fade after a few days.
I'd have stayed like that for some time - I like to feel close to the guy I've fucked - but I knew I was meant to be giving a performance and the audience would not be sharing in my enjoyment of this part of it, so slowly and reluctantly I pulled out of Marc and got to my feet. My cock was still mostly erect, although now it was slimed with cum and sweat, and as I stood there I realised that they could all see my head properly as my 'skin had fully retracted - and, actually, I didn't care. I reached down and began to pull Marc to his feet, but then remembered what the Sheikh had said, and as he was half up, I pushed him down so that he was now kneeling in front of me. Keeping him in place with one hand on each of his shoulders, I pushed my dick towards his mouth and said quietly "Clean me up."
Marc shook his head, and even though I pushed the head of my cock right up against his lips, he refused to open them! Well, you can't have that, can you? I mean my cock was perfectly wholesome as we'd cleaned out his ass so thoroughly, and all I needed him to do was to tongue the cum and sweat off it - he had sucked me off before, so it wasn't as if it was something totally new to have my cock in his mouth. His refusal was just irrational and stubborn, and I wasn't having it: I slapped him hard on the face, twice, once on each cheek, and saw tears forming in his eyes as the blows must really have hurt. I pushed my cock forward again, and now he did as he ought to have done at first, and nuzzled and licked at me to clean me up. I did feel sorry for him, I suppose, but it was his own fault - I mean licking sweat and cum off a guy's cock is no big deal is it, really? It's different if it's all covered in shit, but this absolutely was not so on this occasion.
Well that was it really - I pulled him to his feet then and kind of led him around the room so that the guests could get a last look at him - or were they in fact looking at me? They probably weren't used to having seen a white guy who was a free man fucking in public - and a couple of them actually reached out and ran a hand over my butt as I passed, as if trying to detect if I had been branded but it had somehow been filled in! It was all pretty humiliating, I suppose - a guy ought to be able to choose who touches his butt - but I couldn't risk upsetting the Sheikh's guests by telling them to keep their hands to themselves!
There was lively chatter from the guests now, and they almost lost interest in us so I led Marc back over to the alcove where he had been standing earlier, and reached down and snapped the shackle chain closed around his ankle again. I don't suppose there was any risk of him trying to run away - after all, where would he go? But keeping a slave shackled like that does tend to emphasise his status and signals that he is owned property and not a free man. Once I'd done this, one of the slaves who was a waiter attending to the guests' needs handed me the strip of satin that I had discarded earlier, and I tucked it into the gold chain around my waist so that I was a little more "decent" again. I wanted to go off then, go back to my quarters and shower, and dress properly, but the Sheikh had ordered me to stay until the evening was over and so I made my way, as inconspicuously as I could, back to my seat behind the low table.
The Sheikh was looking pleased, which was good, and was clearly enjoying the congratulations of his guests at having laid on such a spectacle for them. But now it was his turn to surprise them again - he clapped his hands in command, and the huge double doors at one end of the feast hall were heaved open by the slaves.
The soldiers who were to be given away as gifts were brought in, and the Sheikh's ingenuity had been at work so that what we all saw was not merely naked men, but something totally and completely humiliating, something designed to demonstrate that they were not really men at all but something else - mere animals who could be disposed of at the Sheikh's pleasure.
I've told you how each of them had been branded, 'skinned if necessary, trimmed and shaved, exercised, and generally "bronzed" so that, individually, each was a very good example of an expensive white slave. But now, displayed as they were, all together, they were a stunning sight: each had been fitted with a ball gag that was held around his head by a metal strap, his wrists had been shackled to the end of a bar about a metre long, and this bar in turn was suspended from a frame on wheels. A leather cord had been bound tightly around the root of the cock and balls of each of them, and in addition to forcing their genitals to be more "displayed" instead of merely hanging there, it had of course caused most of them to sport erections as it was somewhat like wearing a cock ring. The frame was wheeled into the centre of the room, and the former soldiers hung there from it as if they were sides of beef in a butcher's shop! I'd rarely seen men reduced to such an abject state, and as a statement of the power of the Sheikh, it was truly impressive.
Clearly the sheikh's guests were impressed, but when he named the most important amongst them as the recipients of one of these slaves as a gift, there was genuine astonishment: slaves are, after all, very expensive (you may not realise it, but even a bred nigga, when he's mature, is worth a lot - it's all the costs of maintaining him, as he grows to maturity), and it was clear that these men , being very obviously in prime condition, virile (as evidenced by their erections), and white, were very expensive indeed.
The selected guests went over to the rack and began to "inspect" the men as they hung there - I watched as the bodies writhed in a futile attempt to escape the fingers and hands of the guests as they tweaked nipples to judge the sensitivity, and squeezed the balls to make sure they were genuine. This last bit was of course rather disrespectful to the Sheikh - when you buy slaves in the market, as I had sometimes done for the Sheikh, you do of course squeeze the testicles to make sure they are genuine and not prosthetics inserted into an otherwise empty scrotum after an earlier castration. There had been a fashion, apparently, some years before for castrating young males at puberty as they were thought to be more "biddable", but improvements in control technology such as the new mylar whips, the tracing chips embedded under the skin, and the electric shock control collars, had rendered this unnecessary. It was now felt that when buying a male slave you wanted a "real man" so that he could if necessary be bred. The market had responded by inserting prosthetic balls made of some wonder plastic into the empty sacs of the already gelded, and with a casual fondle these felt very lifelike: you did need to squeeze suddenly, very hard, to make the slave shout out to determine if the testicles were the genuine thing! But surely the guests would not think that the Sheikh would offer them less than perfect slaves, would they? On the other hand, perhaps they were keyed up sexually after seeing my performance, and were simply enjoying causing a little harmless pain to the slaves as some sort of sexual relief for themselves.
The Sheikh was engaging his guests in conversation as they carried out their inspection, and at some point he called me over. "Steve, my old friend here has just made me a most generous offer for you", he told me. "It's a pity you are a free man, as I want my guests to go home satisfied. But perhaps we can convince him that at least one of these slaves is at least as good as you. Be so good as to strip off that loincloth, and go and stand by the third one from the end, so we can make a proper comparison."
I went to protest, but saw a look of raw anger blaze for a moment in the Sheikh's eyes, and decided not to challenge him. I pulled the strip of satin away once more (not that it was really doing all that much good, I suppose), and went and stood by the side of the slave he had indicated. Both the Sheikh and his guest pushed and manoeuvred me into position so that the slave and I were back to back, our butts and shoulder blades touching, and they then discussed how we were both the same height, and even had the same general body shape! The slave was moving and shuffling around as all this went on, and I hated the way that our bodies were sliding over each other - well, not so much hated it, as hated being used in this humiliating way. I was then told to come around to the front, and both men started to discuss our cocks and balls, the Sheikh claiming that we were effectively identical, and his guest alleging that I was hung better. To settle the argument they agreed that we should compare ourselves to each other directly, and the jewelled hand of the Sheikh's guest reached out and began to stroke the semi-erect slave to full erection. The Sheikh then did the same to me! Well, he'd touched my cock before, I suppose, kind of in passing, when I'd been having sex with a new slave as a private entertainment for him. But this was different - this was the man deliberately fondling and stroking my cock, and I didn't like it. Blatantly reaching out and starting to jack me off in public just wasn't on! I reached down and grasped his wrist, and instantly knew I'd done the wrong thing as he hissed in English, in the hope that the guests would not hear, "How dare you! I am the supreme ruler here, and it is forbidden to touch my person. Let go of my wrist immediately..."
I did as he said, and had to stand there as he continued to stroke me to erection, and then have the added indignity of him sliding my 'skin back. "See", he now said in a jocular tone to his guest, "This is the only real way that Steve differs from a slave - all my slaves are of course 'skinned, but as a free man, Steve has choice...."
They then decided that the only real way to judge whose cock was the longer was to have me face the slave and then move forward so that our cocks were side by side, and move forward again to see whether the head of my cock touched him first, or vice versa! It wasn't entirely fair, as the slave had of course been trimmed and shaved for display whereas my bush, although trimmed somewhat, was still mostly that of a free man. So it was difficult to judge exactly when we made contact with each other - but at least it seemed to satisfy the guest, and he and the Sheikh were laughing and enjoying the experience of being able to compare a slave so intimately with a free man.
I suppose you'd say "so that was OK, then", but, frankly, it left me feeling really humiliated and somehow as if I was less of a man.
Once the guests had made their selections form the slaves, guards released each one in turn from the hanging frame, neatly cuffed their hands behind them,
then attached a chain "leash" to the leather cinches around each man's balls. The handle of the leash was handed to each of the principal guests by the Sheikh, and they left, tugging the hapless enslaved soldiers behind them.
You might think that all of this excitement would be sufficient for one night, but of course the Sheikh, whilst entertaining his guests and enjoying the spectacle wit the rest of them, had not had sexual relief. Consequently when the guests had finally left and the Sheikh had retired to his chamber, I was summoned to go there by one of the slaves to perform my customary duties.
One of the things that I have to do as the Sheikh's instrument is to help him with his own sexual endeavours - well, not help him exactly, but make sure that all goes well.. There ought not to be a problem with a relatively slight young boy like Marc, but when we have recently acquired a mature slave that the Sheikh finds particularly attractive, you do have to take precautions! A lot of these older men have been selected because of their physique and power, and many of them do not wish to take the Sheikh's cock, even though he is their owner. Things could go badly wrong if they resisted him violently, so I'm in attendance to make sure that doesn't happen - with my background in fighting, I'm more than a match for even the biggest, toughest slave, and very often my mere presence is sufficient to ensure they behave properly and submit to the Sheikh's will. Sometimes, though, I think the Sheikh almost goads them deliberately, in the hope of causing a little trouble: I think he finds it extra erotic to have me and the slave fight in front of him, and then to take the slave when he has been totally vanquished and overpowered by me.
Tonight should be easy though, as I said, as I didn't think Marc was in any way able to offer any resistance after what he'd been through, and, in any case, even if he did, it would hardly mean a fight - I'd probably just put him across my knees and spank him again (and that would certainly amuse the Sheikh anyway!).
All was not quite as simple as I had imagined, though.
When I was admitted to the Sheikh's bed chamber through the security gates (assassination is a constant worry for those in power like him), I found that the Sheikh had not wanted to fuck Marc normally - his usual way was to have the slave secured with a cuffed collar, so that the slave's wrists were fastened securely behind his neck, and then to push the slave face down on to the bed so that his ass was ready for fucking. Tonight, though, the Sheikh was exhausted after all the effort of holding his party - he had been under considerable stress, and was so tired that he wanted just to lie there and have the slave do all the work. His enormous body lay spread-eagled on his back in the middle of the giant bed, his cock sticking up into the air. He was commanding Marc to get onto the bed, to straddle him, and lower himself onto his cock, and the boy had been refusing.
I had showered and changed into my normal "work" uniform of shorts and a polo, and as I entered the Sheikh called out cheerily "Oh Steve, you do disappoint me! I thought you looked truly excellent dressed only in that chain, and now you have gone and covered that magnificent body of yours!"
That was good news in a way, I suppose - if the Sheikh had been in a foul mood and Marc had dared to disobey him, the best Marc might have expected would have been a severe caning, and a proper whipping, or even gelding, might not have been beyond the bounds of possibility. But as long as the Sheikh was cheerful there was less risk of that. The Sheikh was almost laughing as he called out "persuade the boy that he is to ride my cock, Steve. I am tired, and need to sleep but cannot do so whilst my balls are loaded with cum. You've opened him up, so it ought to be easy for him to take me - I can't understand why he is not obeying!"
"Come on, Marc! You told me that you had sex with one of your girlfriends with her riding your cock - it's just the same for you - hop up on to the bed, straddle your owner, then lower yourself on to that magnificent cock.... And when you're comfortable with it right up inside you, start pumping up and down. You've seen it from the lying down position, so it ought to be obvious what's needed when you're on top.... "
"No, Steve! It's disgusting...."
"Marc, how can anything that two men can do together be 'disgusting', as you call it? As you've already found out tonight, your ass can easily accommodate a cock. So let's have no more of this nonsense, and get down to work! You heard your owner say that he was tired, and you are preventing him from sleeping."
I could see the Sheikh beginning to lose his mood of general affability, and thought that Marc did not realise just how close he was to being in really serious trouble. I didn't want to continue arguing with him, so instead I strode over to where he was sitting defiantly on the floor, put my hands under his armpits and dragged him to his feet. He wasn't all that heavy and I actually lifted him off his feet and began to carry him over to the bed. He started screaming and shouting then and kicking out at me, and fortunately the Sheikh seemed amused by it - but again, I didn't want to risk it for too long. So I dropped him, suddenly, so that he landed with a crash on the floor, unable to do anything to help prevent his fall with his hands cuffed, and that did at least shut him up. I expect it was quite painful on his butt to land like that, but it seemed to teach him a lesson!
"Now, Marc", I said, as sternly as I could, as it was rather amusing to see him sprawled helplessly there. "Just behave, will you? You've felt my hand on your butt already today, and if you keep up this silly protesting, I'll be forced to give you another good spanking. It's inevitable, and you know it - you're a desirable young slave, and your owner is going to use your ass for the purpose for which it is intended - to give pleasure to him. And we can either do it the easy way, with your co-operation, or we can do it after you've been hurt a bit more. But it's going to happen, absolutely for certain. So stop all that noise, and use your brains a bit!"
I bent down and hauled him to his feet, again with my hands under his armpits (which were running with sweat), and basically marched him over to the bed. We both climbed on it, both straddled the Sheikh with our feet on either side of his huge body, and then I put my mouth close to Marc's ear and whispered "Now when you're more experienced, and you can use your hands to help, you'll do all this by yourself. But for now I'm going to lower you gently down onto your owner's cock, and you're going to relax - remember what I said about pretending to crap and not trying to stop a cock going in? It would have been a lot easier this evening if you'd taken my advice, so don't continue to be stupid, and do it properly now."
Well it's not all that easy, as some of you may know - you really need your hands to pull your butt apart and guide the cock into you, don't you? But once I'd lowered Marc a bit and he was taking the strain on his thighs and kind of squatting there, I leapt off the bed, knelt by the side of it, and reached under him to take the Sheikh's cock (giving it a companionable squeeze as I did so, so that he moaned a little with pleasure), and then told Marc to lower himself fully.
I always think it's interesting to see the look on the face of a guy as he lowers himself onto your cock, and now I watched Marc intently as he went through those same feelings that I believe everyone does - the look of apprehension as he worries that it will hurt, the faint shock as the hot tip of the cock head touches his sphincter, and then the grimace almost, that look of fierce determination, as he lowers himself gently, ever so slowly and gently, downwards, hoping that the pain will not be too intense as his sphincter pops. A lot of guys don't trust their leg muscles to hold them, I know, and sort of lean a it backwards, bracing themselves with their hands on the bed, but this option was not available to Marc - still he was relatively light, and his legs, after all the exercise he'd been doing, were well muscled. I thought about getting on the bed again and helping him by taking some of the weight of his body, but decided against it as he needed to learn how to do these things for himself.
Actually I think all the stretching I'd done, and the epic fucking I'd given him earlier, had loosened him up considerably. He was probably a bit sore and somewhat uncomfortable, but he was also suitably eased, and so in fact the Sheikh's cock slid into him relatively easily, and soon was totally buried so that Marc's butt was almost resting on the Sheikh' thighs. "Take your weight, boy!", I snapped. "Your owner doesn't want you using him as a stool! Now, start to ride up and down...."
To his credit, I think Marc was sensible enough to see that if he performed properly the whole thing would soon be over, and after a very short time he was riding up and down in a manner that I might almost call enthusiastically on the Sheikh's cock. The Sheikh seemed to be enjoying it, too, until he cried "Enough! Get off me, and finish me with your mouth."
Marc had sucked my cock often enough in his initial training, so this simple request ought not to have caused him any particular problems. But instead, he began to say "No....", and before he then spoiled all the good will he had built up with his owner, I leapt on the bed, pulled him upwards off the Sheikh's cock, and stood him down by the side of the bed. I reached down and put my hand between his thighs and grabbed his balls, and then hissed "Do as your owner commands.... Unless you'd like me to squeeze these balls of yours, and squeeze them hard...."
Fortunately he then did as he had been commanded, taking the Sheikh's cock delicately between his lips, and starting to suck at it with some degree of enthusiasm. I thought I ought to continue to hold his balls, though, "just in case". Then I saw the Sheikh, and he was smiling as Marc's lips and tongue raised him to his climax, and I knew everything would be all right.
I watched carefully, though, and as it was clear that the Sheikh was about to cum, I reached over and held Marc's head down so that his face was pressed into the pubes and fleshy body of the Sheikh - the lad couldn't therefore help but take the Sheikh's cum into his mouth, and it was only after I'd seen his throat spasm several times as he struggled to swallow the Sheikh's seed that I let go, so that he could lift his head up.
The Sheikh lay there breathing heavily for a time, then smiled at me. "This little slave has potential, Steve. I think I will keep him with me tonight, so he can service me should I awake."
"Are you certain, Highness.... He is not fully trained yet, and although he is only sixteen his lithe frame belies his real strength...."
"You are a good and faithful servant, Steve, but you worry too much. I am confident that I can control this slave, but in any case I have the alarm button at the bedside and the guards can be in here almost instantly."
"Highness, it is still risky - he could injure you before you could reach the button.... Perhaps I should stay, too, to make sure...."
"No, Steve. That will not be necessary. There may be things I wish to do with the boy that I would prefer to do in private. Retire to your own chamber, as tomorrow we will tackle the remaining one of the captured soldiers, the one I retained for my own use.... And you need to be fresh and rested in order to mount him."
He made a dismissive gesture as he said this, and I knew it would be unwise to disobey him. As I looked back I saw that the Sheikh had thrown wide the bedclothes and stretched one of his arms across the bed, and gestured for Marc to lie beside him. The boy stretched his thin, white almost hairless body alongside the Sheikh's bloated, hairy flesh, the Sheikh wrapped his arm around Marc's shoulders and pulled the boy into total intimate closeness to him, and pulled the covers over them.
"Now, my little slave, let us sleep... And when I awake I will have my pleasure of you again....", I heard the Sheikh mutter. To my surprise, I saw Marc snuggle up companionably against the Sheikh, and put his arm over the big man's hairy chest as if to more completely experience the sensation of their togetherness. I watched as the bed clothes moved, indicating that Marc had thrown his leg over the Sheikh, too, so that he was half astride the big man's thigh, and I couldn't help but wonder how the Sheikh was enjoying having Marc's hard cock pressed into his pubes.
If only I'd realised the trouble that this first intimacy between the Sheikh and Marc would ultimately lead to I would have mad some further protest and broken it up. But it's easy to be wise after the event, isn't it?
End Of Part Five