Slave Revolt

THE SLAVE REVOLT

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part Ten

Later on they moved my cage out into the rear courtyard where all the domestic slaves and those visiting the house passed through. They used one of those small trolleys fitted with a hydraulic jack to lift the crate up onto the trolley, then a couple of slaves simply dragged the thing out, and left me there - it was just as if I was something that was kept in a warehouse and could be shunted around like that, rather than a living, breathing man. One of the overseers came out from the house shortly afterwards and fixed a label onto the cage - he sneered as he told me "It says that you're waiting here to be gelded, and that other slaves should take note in case they find themselves in your position."

"Please, sir, I need to piss...."

"So piss! Who cares?"

I was used to pissing as I worked by now of course, as that was how all of us drays had to do it in the new regime. But at least you left your piss behind you as you moved on. Here, though, the pool of piss formed under the cage and then it rolled out from the sides, and I knew that everyone passing would know that I had not got control of my life as I was now reduced to pissing where I was caged, just as an animal would in similar circumstances.

It was extremely uncomfortable for me - my body was very cramped in the tiny cage, and my knees were in agony from taking my weight. But there was nothing I could do about it, and I suppose I was fortunate that all the work I'd done outside did at least mean that my body was hardened to the sun, otherwise as it beat down on me I'd have been in even more trouble. It caused me to sweat a lot, of course, but there was no sign of anyone thinking about this and coming and giving me a drink: you'll be amazed how welcome ever a small sip of water would have been be in those circumstances.

I suppose I did kind of doze - I was always extremely tired, and in spite of being so worried (and scared, I suppose) about what was going to happen to me, this enforced idleness did at least give me a chance to rest. I "came to" from one of these little periods of half-sleep to see a nigga bitch standing in front of my cage, together with the young one I'd studded so very recently. I'd studded the older one some months before, too - I particularly remember it as she was older than most of the other bitches I was put to, and in normal circumstances I'd never have fucked a woman like that. Now, I could see from the huge swelling in her belly that it must have been successful, so I kind of consoled myself that even though I was about to lose my balls, I had at least got some progeny passing on into the world's gene pool! But then I realised that the young nigga bore a startling resemblance to her, and with a shock it occurred to me that I must have studded both the mother and her daughter. I couldn't help wondering if the young one was pregnant, too - and what relationship would her kid then be to her mother's?

The mother was speaking now, and I heard her say "Look at him, my daughter. This is the man that defiled us both. And now see him, caged there, like an animal. Still, he will not deposit his seed inside any more of us - today a man will come and will slice off his testicles."

"Look, it's not my fault....", I called out. "I didn't want to fuck you! They made me! I'm a slave, just like you. And if they want me to fuck you, I have no choice...."

"Yes you do. A man does not have to fuck when he knows it is wrong. Even a slave has that choice."

"If I didn't fuck you, they would punish me. They would whip me..."

"You are always whipped - I can see the scars on your back...."

"....and if I continued to refuse, they would geld me."

"You are going to be gelded anyway, so you have gained nothing. You have defiled me and my daughter with your whitey seed...."

"Look, it's not like that! Even if I refused, and they gelded me, they'd find another stud: you're a slave too, and your owner has decided he wants you to have pups. Whether it's me, or some other guy, it's going to happen."

"But you took the virginity of my daughter...."

"She was going to lose it anyway, as her owner wants her in pup as well. If it wasn't me, it would have been some other stud. We all have no choice: our owner directs, and we have to obey. And at least I was gentle with her - some men are like animals when they are rutting, especially if they get a young virgin. I realised she had no experience, and I was as gentle as it is possible to be...."

"You are an animal, like all of them! Come daughter......"

I could see there was no persuading her of the justice of my case, and the two women walked past me. But then I almost screamed in agony as my balls were squeezed painfully hard. I realised the woman had stopped at the rear of the cage and her hand had come through the bars and had grabbed my balls, as they hung there between my thighs. I tried to press my thighs together, but it was too late: the woman's forearm was in there, and her fingers were encircling my sac - she'd pulled my balls down, and was kind of cinching the top of my sac, holding my balls at the bottom.

"See, daughter! These are what this slave is going to lose. He will defile no more women like you and me. Come and see them, and remember that these are the cause of your shame....", I heard her say.

"No, please! You're wrong! It's no shame for you, or your daughter.... You're slaves, and it's your owner's fault, not mine...."

My explanation was cut short as I shouted "NO...", at the top of my voice as her grip tightened on my balls and she tugged firmly downwards. I felt like vomiting - you know how it is when something like that happens to your balls: the body knows they're vital, and your reflexes take over. The pain from her action completely flooded out all the others I was experiencing.

"If there was any justice, daughter, it would be you and me who is taking these from this animal", the woman went on. "We should not have to wait for the white man to give us justice. But at least we know that he will not do this thing again - he will no longer be able to squirt his seed into women...."

The young girl piped up now "Momma, whilst he is like this, should we not act? I could get a knife from the kitchen, and the deed would be done.... You and me, we would have our revenge...."

"You are a good girl. You think clearly. Yes, it is a good plan. I will hold these globes ready, and you run and fetch the knife which is kept specially for filleting the fish - but be careful, it is very sharp, the sharpest in the kitchen, and I do not want you to cut yourself."

I started to say "Please... please don't... this isn't the solution... It wasn't my fault...", but she pulled down sharply on my balls again, and my protests were cut off as I shouted once more as the agony surged through me.

"Be silent, animal! You did not use a woman as a man should, willingly and with love, because you wanted to share a child. No, you raped me and my daughter, like an animal. And like an animal we are going to deal with you so that you do not do it again."

I saw the daughter emerging from the rear door of the mansion then, holding a knife whose long steel blade glinted in the sunshine. As she got nearer, I could see that it had been lovingly and carefully honed to be razor thin, and I suppose it did a good job on filleting the delicate fish and stuff. One part of me said that at least this was going to be relatively painless - with the emphasis on the "relative", as presumably all gelding really hurts.

"No, No", I started to shout. And then, seeing a guard, I began to scream at him "Stop these women! They're mad! They're bringing that knife to my balls...."

"Traitor!", the woman screamed at me. "Traitor! One slave telling on another to a guard."

She really pulled at my balls now, and I lost the ability to tell the guard anything else as my speech was totally incoherent. But he glanced at the bitch holding my balls, and at the young bitch carrying the knife, and sized up the situation. In an instant he had his prod out and stabbed at the young bitch, who fell to the ground, the knife skittering across the courtyard as she let it go. He at once picked it up, and snapped "We can't have slaves armed like that! Now, bitch, let go of that slave's balls...."

Actually, although I hated to see the young bitch writhing around on the ground (and I did, after all, know something of the agony she was experiencing), it had had the effect of causing the old nigga to let go of me anyway - she was rushing over to her daughter, to comfort her.

The guard came over and looked at me. "Well, boy, it looks like I saved you there. Or maybe not - I know the vet's coming to see to you anyway. And maybe that woman and her knife might have done an easier job for you - she's one of the cooks, and pretty skilled with a knife.... At least it would have been quick, whereas maybe the boss is going to have the vet make a spectacle of you this afternoon, to warn the other slaves: perhaps he'll have him pull each of your balls out, one by one, then stretch the ligament to the maximum, and then slowly and gently cut through them, each in turn..... The last boy they gelded as a warning to the others took over half an hour - mind you, that was because they had to keep reviving him, as he fainted all the time."

Laughing, he walked off, and I knelt there now even more worried (and sacred) about my fate.

It was early afternoon before they finally came to release me from the cage - two guards, both with prods at the ready, as they were obviously expecting me to make trouble. Fat chance! I was too stiff with cramp, and maddened by thirst, to put up any resistance. They marched me into the mansion and down to the punishment room, and almost without saying a word, strapped me face down on to the "horse", making sure my legs were spread as far as possible - presumably to aid the veterinarian in gaining access to my balls. I don't know how long I waited there - well, who cares how long a slave waits for anything? And usually a slave enjoys waiting - when you're waiting, you're not working, and when you're not working, you're not going to be tawsed! But this time was different. I knew I was going to be gelded, and frankly, the waiting was terrible: so often the anticipation of something is worse than the actual execution, isn't it? I knew it was going to hurt, really hurt, so what was the point in postponing it?

Finally, though, my owner came in accompanied by the vet - I recognised him from when he'd been called in to treat other slaves previously. I'd always thought of him as quite a considerate guy who tended the slaves well, but now it seemed to me that he couldn't be: I mean, a proper doctor wouldn't geld guys, would he - isn't there some sort of oath they take to act in the best interests of the patient? And how was this in my best interests? Funnily enough, as I listened to my owner and the vet speak, my question got answered as they'd evidently been discussing "ethics".

"Oh no, sir, I think you're showing a very twentieth century view of these things", the vet was explaining.

"Back then the rights of the patient - human and I suppose slave, although they didn't have them then, would have been interpreted as meaning that something like a gelding could not take place unless there was, for example, cancer of the testicles that needed to be cut out before it spread. 'The good of the patient' was paramount - as indeed it still is today! It's just that we interpret it a little differently: I regard gelding a slave as being for his own good."

He slapped me on the butt, and went on "In the case of this brute, I've seen him when he's been working and he's obviously tough and strong. But as he's turning into a renegade, there are serious potential problems for his future: as a responsible owner you can hardly have a strong potential rebel at large, can you? So probably the only long term solution for this slave is death: kill him off, before he causes any more problems. Unless, that is, you have him gelded.... So, you see, gelding him is indeed in his own best interests, so there's no difficulty ethically in performing the operation."

He came up to my head and thrust a gag at me. "NO...", I managed to say, and calling out to my owner, started with "Please, sir, please, I've done nothing...."

The vet twisted my ear savagely, that caused me to open my mouth fully, and the next moment the gag was in and my pleas were stifled.

"There - that's a little trick they teach you at veterinarian's college to get slaves to open their mouths! It saves a lot of distress to gag them", he told my owner. "Even if we use anaesthetic, they always beg and plead to be allowed to remain men. It can be distressing for the owner sometimes, so I routinely gag them. Are you going to have him anaesthetised, by the way? I generally advise against it, as the pain serves to remind them of the power you hold over them should they still be inclined to disobey you, even after the operation."

"Well, if you think that's best....", my owner muttered.

The vet now moved behind me, and I could fell his hands massaging my balls, and pulling and squeezing them down to the bottom of my sac. "This was a display slave, I think?", he queried my owner. "I seem to remember an excellent dinner here one evening when you had him perform for us.... There is an option, you know, to slit the sac, take out the balls, and replace them with prostheses: he can look much the same afterwards if the sac is re-sewn carefully. Or, of course, you can have larger, steel balls put in, which will make him hang even lower and look even more heroic.... I have some out in my carriage."

"No. He's no longer a display slave. His excursion with the rebels left his body scarred and not in perfect condition. If a man is going to have a display slave to delight his guests, I think he has to be perfect."

"Well, then, sir, do you want the testicles removed and the sac re-sewn? Or do you want everything to go, so that from the underside of the penis to the anus is basically smooth?"

"What do you suggest, doctor?"

"It matters little. But perhaps aesthetically, a complete removal is best. And, of course, whilst I'm here, I wondered if you'd considered a full or partial penectomy? If you want to use him as an example to other slaves, a penectomy can be spectacularly successful.... Total removal, leaving a small slit for him to urinate from, shows an owner's power to the other slaves, I think. On the other hand, simply slicing off the head can be very effective, too: even with the testicles removed, a slave can get some pleasure from stimulating his penis, and without the head, this is dramatically reduced."

My owner looked at me - sadly, perhaps? "No, leave his penis. Removing his manhood will be sufficient punishment for Steve here."

I tried to shout, tried to thrash my body around in a last desperate effort to make my point, but it was impossible to make myself understood. I mean, here they were, discussing my gelding and even the potential removal of my dick, and I was utterly and totally powerless to do anything about it. If a demonstration was needed of one man's power over another, this was surely it.

My efforts were useless, though, and my testicles went icy cold, as the vet commented "Just some antiseptic, no anaesthetic - we don't want infection, do we?" Then I felt his fingers again, kneading and stretching my sac, pulling my balls down. "I need to get a nice long 'neck', he told my owner, "So that when I incise above it, the remainder can be sewn back neatly to the body as you want him smooth. Now.... Let me get a scalpel..."

So this was it, then, I thought. Any moment now, and I'd no longer be a man. I braced myself for the inevitable, but just as the scalpel was about to strike, the door opened and the vet stayed his hand.

"Dad", a familiar voice said. "I've been looking everywhere for you and for some reason the house slaves didn't want to tell me you're down here in the punishment room."

"Perhaps it's as well you came down, Rob - as you'll be a slave owner yourself one day, you need to see some of the less pleasant aspects of it. Sometimes an owner has to be tough, really tough, to protect our way of life, and this is one of those occasions. I'm having this slave gelded, as nothing else has succeeded in making him back into a loyal, trustworthy slave. It's regrettable, I know, as he used to be a real pleasure to us all, and even now he's a useful stud. But, needs must....."

Rob came and looked at me, and I think suddenly recognised my tattered face, in spite of the gag. "But dad, this is Steve...."

"Quite so! He used to be my trainer, and was a good and trustworthy slave, until all this revolt. But now...."

"Dad, no, you can't geld Steve..."

"Yes, Rob. It's a tough decision to make, I know, especially when it involves a slave who has been more to us than a mere coffled field worker. But it's in his own best interests - if we don't 'calm' him, he'll end up crucified - and I wouldn't want that for any slave. You must have seen some of those during your own escape, and although I understand the reasons for killing them that way, I find it rather distasteful."

"But dad, please, no... Not Steve...."

"It's absolutely necessary, Rob. After your exploits escaping from the rebels I thought you were toughening up - don't say you're slipping back and becoming one of those liberal wimps who want to treat slaves as if they were free men...."

"No, dad.... But Steve.... Please, dad, don't do it."

I lay there, my spirits alternately soaring and plummeting. Why the fuck didn't Rob just tell his dad about how I'd saved him? Surely then all this stuff would be over, and with the scalpel hovering over my balls, time was short!

"Rob, stay out of this...."

"Dad, no! You promised Steve to me, when I was seventeen. And I'm seventeen now, dad, and I want him."

"Oh don't be so stupid, Rob. I may have said you could have Steve, but that was back then, before the revolt. Things are different now. And you're different, too - I was going to give Steve to you in the hope that he would help you become tougher, more mature. But now I've heard about the way you outwitted those rebels, and lived on your wits until you got back to the safety of our troops, we don't need that, do we? You're mature enough."

"Dad, a promise is a promise! You promised Steve to me, and I want him. And you're right - I am different after escaping g from the rebels, but I still need a slave...."

"But not this one, Rob! You can have your pick of the others. Two or three, if you like This one is too rebellious."

"So I'll tame him, dad. Give him to me, as you promised, and I'll show you how to treat a slave - I'll tame him, even if you can't."

"Nonsense, Rob! You're still a boy..."

"There you go, dad! You want me to be mature, and tough, and hard, and at every chance you get, put me down: I'm not a boy, dad, I'm a man, a real man. I'm seventeen, remember? You still treat me as if I'm only ten sometimes! I can take car of myself, dad - you've had proof of that. And if I can do that, for all that time, then I can surely manage a slave like this one."

"Rob, I'm sorry. Yes, I do underestimate you, I know.

Look, I'll give you this slave, if you insist, but first he must be gelded - he's much too spirited, even for a young man of your undoubted talents."

"No, dad! I want a whole slave, one who I can tame properly. You'd always be telling me that I had it easy, if you have him gelded."

My spirits soared as my owner sighed, and said "I suppose you're right. But I will insist on you telling me every week how you're getting on. And there is of course no question of you taking him to college - here on the estate we do at least have guards and overseers who can be called in if he shows the slightest sign of trouble. He must remain here and not accompany you."

"Fair enough. And, dad, you won't be disappointed: Steve always used to be a good slave, and he will be again, you mark my words."

"Rob, I think you should start as you mean to go on, then...."

"Sure, dad."

"Well then, the traditional thing an owner does when he acquires a new slave...."

"He's already got our brand on him, dad."

"No, I mean taking his cherry - well, not exactly that, of course, as I did that when he was first brought here, newly enslaved. But I think it would be

kind of 'right of passage', if that isn't a terrible pun, for you to mark your new status as a slave owner in your own right to actually fuck Steve. And he never liked taking dick, so it will set his mind along the right tracks, to know that you will not hesitate to fuck him..."

Look, although I was pleased that I'd been spared the scalpel, I really didn't want to be fucked by Rob! For one thing, I hated taking dick. And for another - well, it's not right, is it? I'd treated Rob almost as if he was my kid brother, looking after him.... And he was only seventeen - a guy like me doesn't want a seventeen year old kid fucking him!

"OK, dad - I will fuck him, I promise. But not here."

"Why ever not? He's secured, and can't hurt you..."

"It's not that, dad - but the vet's here...."

"I'm sorry", my owner said to the vet. "You've had a bit of a wasted journey. Please don't hesitate to bill he estate for your time this afternoon."

"No problem, sir - I don't really enjoy gelding slaves. It's necessary, I know, but it seems such a shame to waste the essence of a man..."

I could hear him snapping his case shut as he said this, then there were some polite farewells, and my owner said "Now then, Rob, down to business - there's only you and me..."

"Dad, you can't expect me to fuck a slave in front of you...."

"Why ever not? I certainly wouldn't expect you to expose your wife or fiancee to my view, but this is a slave! There's no harm in a man fucking a slave in front of his friends, or his family.... When your mother was alive I never hesitated about taking he cherries of the new slaves in front of her - indeed she used to be quite proud of me, seeing me in action like that."

"But that was mom, dad! I'm your son...."

"Rob, you are indeed my son! I've seen you naked hundreds of times. Not only when you were a kid, but when we use the gym together in the shower afterwards. Now get on with it."

"Dad, there's a bit of difference between seeing me in the showers, and seeing me fucking a guy... Seeing me fucking anyone, for that matter. Or even seeing me having an erection - guys don't do that in front of their fathers."

"Well, Rob, I'm afraid you are going to have to - if you want me to gift you this slave, that is. You need to learn that a man needs to exert proper control over his slaves, and one of the best ways of doing that is to show them that they are there to be used sexually by you. A slave owner never has anything to fear by dropping his pants and fucking his slaves - whether male or female.... Although I would advise you to be careful in fucking females, as if they get pregnant, they then think they have some sort of 'special rights' because their pup might have a free father: not that it matters, as one slave parent means that the pup is a slave. Indeed ,when I take the cherries of new females, I always wear a condom, and take the precaution of having one or more slaves fuck her immediately afterwards, too, so there will always be a doubt about the paternity. That's why Steve is such a useful slave to have around - in the past, I have had him stud a female the day after I have 'welcomed' her to our little estate here: if there is a pup it is then automatically paler than the dam. I mean, if I got them fucked by some of the big nigga bucks, and the pup was pale, it would kind of point to me as the father, wouldn't it? But with Steve, there's no problem like that."

"Dad, I don't see what this has got to do with it - I've never watched you fucking any of the slaves, so I don't see why you want to watch me...."

"Son, I've never stopped you coming to see me 'welcoming' the new slaves. It's a duty, I know, but it has to be done if we are to maintain proper traditions. And I'm not ashamed at other men seeing me doing it in any way - when your uncles are visiting, indeed, we often do it together as it's more fun than watching a movie in the evenings. And if you wish, the next time a batch of new slaves arrives, I'll hold off from this little ceremony until you are around. But that's all beside the point - why wouldn't I want to watch you? You're a handsome young man, and I'm proud of you, and I'd like to see how you go about it."

"But dad...."

"No, Rob. No excuses! The only time I've ever passed on an opportunity to see one of these occasions is with old Mr Svensen next door - he's so old, and so grossly overweight, that I simply can't stomach the sight of those great slabs of fat of his pounding up and down over the slave. I've got no worries on that score, of course, as I keep in shape - and neither have you! You're a real chip off the old block, and you're shaping up nicely: I only thought the other day when I saw you in the pool that if things were different you'd make a fine slave yourself: your body is ripening to perfection."

"I haven't got a condom, dad..."

"Excuses, Rob! Steve's a male, not a female! He's not going to get pregnant! One of the minor pleasures of life is feeling your raw dick in totally intimate contact with the warmth of a good slave ass - personally, I've never used a condom on a male. Now, are you going to do it, or shall I call the vet back, have Steve gelded, and proceed with the original plan?"

Oh no - for Christ sake, get on with it, I willed. I didn't want to be fucked by the kid, but that was infinitely preferable to being gelded. Couldn't the idiot see that? I didn't want to be gelded just because he was for some reason ashamed of stripping off in front of his dad. And, after all, I knew from experience that he had nothing to be ashamed of - as his dad had already pointed out, he had a good body; and is dick was, if anything, above average (although perhaps all seventeen year olds' dicks look big as they're mostly fully grown, whereas their bodies still have some muscle and perhaps even an inch or so of height still to grow). I lay there, motionless now, as I didn't want any struggling or attempted shouting to distract the two men in their argument. I'm not one given to praying (I've always thought the concept of a big juju in the sky is totally absurd), but I could see why people did it at this moment - if I had believed in that rubbish, I'd have been praying for Rob to get his dick out!

"Come on, Rob, I haven't got all day...." His father said, now sounding rather impatient. "I was beginning to think that you'd matured, and had lost some of your timidness after your outwitting of the rebels. I'm starting to doubt it, though, if you can't do this simple thing.... Most sons would really enjoy the prospect of fucking a slave, especially one who, although he's no longer in peak condition, has such a totally fuckable ass as Steve here...."

Rob still stood there hesitating, and then to my immense relief, he reached down and began to unbuckle the belt on his neatly-cut formal pants. It took him a long time, standing there in his boxers, to neatly fold the pants, as if he was hoping that by prolonging the act some other thing might intrude to save him. Then he looked again at his father, who nodded impatiently at him, and with an almost despairing shrug he slipped his boxers down and stood there uncertainly for a moment.

I was beginning to breathe more easily now as it looked as if I was going to be saved - although as Rob began to stroke his dick into an erection, new doubts began: he was indeed, as I'd noticed, well hung, and the prospect of the monster forcing itself up my ass was not one I was looking forward to.

He came and stood behind me, watched by his father, and he pressed his hands on my butt and prised it apart. Then I couldn't help shuffling my feet when the sensation of having his dick running up and down my crack started - look, I don't like taking it up the ass, but sometimes when you're in really intense foreplay with another guy you let him do something like that, don't you, as the feeling of a dick head against your tender skin down there is kind of exciting.

"He's not lubed, dad...."

"Of course not, Rob! He was going to be gelded, remember? And around here we don't fuck eunuchs: some perverted owners have slaves gelded as they enjoy the sensation of fucking a eunuch, but personally I prefer the ass of a real virile man, who would be capable of fucking me in return, if he was ever allowed to: Steve here would certainly do that, I know, in order to 'prove' that he was still in control."

Too damned right I would! He'd only fucked me the once, when I first arrived, but if he'd ever tried it again I certainly would have retaliated, in spite of the consequences - I don't think I could have helped it. And when two of you are naked in bed, there's little a guy like him could have done to stop a bigger, stronger one like me.

Rob was still stroking my ass rather seductively, and his father seemed to be getting very impatient. "Jesus, Rob, get on with it! I have to call New York.

He's not lubed, but that doesn't matter - you need to use a bit more force, that's all, to get the head in, but once you're through, you can fuck pretty naturally. He'll really feel it, but it's quite good for you, actually... Come on, boy - try it, and see...."

I felt Rob's hairy thighs pressing against mine and his dick pushing at my ass. I tried to relax, tried to do that thing they say you should do and pretend you're crapping, to make your sphincter relax, but either they're lying, or I'm not very good at fooling myself: it took him a huge effort to batter his way through, and I was bucking and shouting as he did so (well, as much as I could) not only because it was hurting like hell, but because I don't naturally take dick from another man - and especially not from a seventeen year old.

Once he was in, though, Rob seemed to take to it naturally! He slammed his dick home - another muffled scream from me - and then began to pound me vigorously, and I mean vigorously, with that exuberance that only a muscled teenager can. He was slamming in and out of me and I could hear the rhythmic slap, slap, slap of his body and balls against my skin as he gave me an epic fucking. To say it was uncomfortable was a total understatement: it hurt, and I mean hurt! I know I ought to be used to pain, given everything I'd experienced recently, but some pains are different, aren't they? And I suppose you never get used to the hurt as another man fucks your ass totally against your will.

Another characteristic of very young guys, though, is that their sheer eagerness to fuck means that it's not very sustained: the excitement, and the fact that they're at their most fertile at that age and their balls are desperate to empty, means that it doesn't take them long to shoot - I'd noticed that if Rob and I were both jacking off as we huddled together for warmth it always took me much, much longer than him to shoot. Well, that was in my favour now, as it seemed like only seconds before he gave a great shout of "Jesus fucking Christ......" And slammed into me one last time, before collapsing forward onto me.

His father came over and slapped him kind of affectionately on the butt. "Well done, son! But pull out now, as I really have to get on with things and that call to New York won't wait...."

He put his arm around Rob's shoulder and guided him over towards a sink in the corner, telling Rob that he needed to wash his dick carefully as I hadn't really been perfectly cleaned out: "...and if you're going to fuck him regularly, you need to train him to use the enema fixture on the shower", he added.

We both watched as Rob then dressed, and his father seemed really pleased. "You know, Rob, I was beginning to doubt some of those stories you told about defying and defeating the rebels, but I can see that you are indeed a real man - there's not a lot of seventeen year olds who could fuck a tight-assed slave like Steve as well as that. You know, son, it's kind of a 'right of passage' - when you fuck your first slave, you've really come of age: forget all that stuff about sixteen, eighteen, or twenty one as the 'age of majority' - I reckon the first time a man fucks a slave against the slave's will is the point at which he's really ready to take on the world."

With that, my (former?) owner strode out of the room, leaving Rob and me there. He looked down at me, and gave a shrug. Now what the fuck did he mean by that?

End Of Part Ten