THE SLAVE REVOLT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Three
I worked away all day really testing my body in the gym, as I was determined that there should be no excuse for punishing me the next weekend when my owner wanted me to give another exhibition for his friends. How easily I fall into the use of the phrase "my owner", I notice: when I was a marine it would have been inconceivable that I could think of another man owning me, or even of having me under some sort of control (yes, I know we had officers and such, but wise officers step back when the going gets tough and let the marines on the ground use their initiative. You obey officers in stuff like what time to get on parade and so on, but when it comes to really important things, you're very much your own man still).
By evening I was totally exhausted, and, indeed, the swimming had made some bits of me ache a bit. So I decided to go and visit my buddies the drays, as one of them had been a skilled masseur at some time in his former life and was really good at soothing strained muscles - a skill he frequently used on the other drays. So by seven o'clock when the drays had finished work and had been fed and showered, I was lying on my belly in the straw and was experiencing the tough fingers of the guy really digging in to me. I could feel his hands all over me, and was enjoying it in spite of the occasional twinges when he dug deep to release some intransigent bit of stiffness - it's perhaps indicative of the way that our owner was basically a good guy in that he made oil available to the drays as he recognised that this massage was good for them: it's little things like that which make the difference, I suppose.
He was kneeling, straddling my left leg, as he worked away on my shoulders and back, and I was almost asleep as his hands ranged so sensuously over me. Some of the other guys were laughing a bit, and I only realised why when he finally slapped me playfully on my butt and told me to roll over as he wanted to do the front of me - as he went to kneel again, sort of straddling my belly, I could see that he was erect and, what's more, that there was a thin trace of pre-cum drooling out of his piss slit. "Sorry, Steve", he said, pointing to his dick. "But this happens a lot when I get my hands on another guy's body."
I didn't know what to say - I wasn't exactly pleased to have his pre-cum mingling with the oil on my body, but on the other hand I could hardly complain, could I? For one thing I wanted him to continue the massage, and for another, I didn't want to look like some sort of wimp to the drays. So I just gave a little shrug of my head and gave him a faint smile, and let him get on with it.
It seemed to me that he spent a lot of time doing my pecs, and unlike previous times, he seemed to be almost playing with my nips. It was so sensual and relaxing that I was drifting off into a doze, and I realised that there were more of those "happy" sounds from the other drays - so I opened my eyes and saw that my own dick was now erect. My masseur saw me looking, and smiled, whispering "Don't worry, Steve - that often happens, too. Now we're both the same...."
Well, what could I do? I mean, the other drays had seen me with a hard on before, when they sucked me off, so I could hardly complain, could I? So I closed my eyes and relaxed as best I could as he carried on, digging his fingers into the hard ridges of muscles on my belly. It was really good, but then my body started to tell me something else - my dick wasn't just passively erect now, it was tingling and straining with a new sensation, and I assumed that my masseur, or one of the other drays, had bent down and was giving me a blow job as well. So I lay there with my eyes closed, but heard the laughter from the other guys starting to build.
I flicked my eyes open, and to my utter amazement saw that the masseur wasn't giving me a blow job - no, he was crouching over me, and had lowered his ass down onto my dick so that I was inside him! I went to move, to get away, but all that did was thrust my dick even higher up into him, and he moaned. Then, before I could stop him, he started to move up and down, and I could see his superb thighs and the hard muscles of his belly working away as he moved his big body up and down on me. Oh shit - what was I to do now? The other drays were watching me, and if I threw him off, or shouted and told him he was some sort of pervert, they really would think that I was at fault and not really "one of them" - they all fucked each other, I knew, and it was only because I was a "guest" that week I'd spent with them that they hadn't been up my ass. I reckoned the best thing to do was to let it happen - after all, it felt really amazing, and my masseur clearly was enjoying himself, too. So I lay back, but then something else started to happen: As he slid his ass down on to my dick, I just couldn't help but thrust my hips upwards to meet it! It was almost totally involuntary, and I realised it was increasing my pleasure five fold. Soon, of course, I was in effect no longer a passive partner but was taking an active part in the whole thing.
My balls were telling me I was about to fire, and I shouted out in ecstasy "Jesus Christ! Oh Fuck! I'm cumming....", and thrust my hips up in one last effort to bury my dick as deep in him as I could. He stopped moving then and remained straddling me, with my dick still deep in him. Sweat was pouring off his body, and he was laughing in that way that guys do after great sex. As I watched, he moved forward so he was lying along me, taking most of his weight on his elbows. His face was right above mine, still laughing, as was I, and he now pushed it towards me and began to kiss me passionately!
Look, I've never had another guy do that to me. I mean, it's one thing to have a guy give you a blow job, but kissing, well, it's something a bit personal, isn't it? But just as my body had wanted to take part as he fucked me, so now it wanted to respond to his kisses. Almost without me realising it, my own tongue was thrusting back into his mouth, my teeth were nibbling at his bottom lip, and my hand went up and held the back of his head to pull him even closer to me.
I don't know how long it was before we broke off, then he gently raised himself off me and came and lay next to me. We were both smiling and laughing, and I felt better about things than I had for a long time. One of the other drays came and knelt beside me and began to lick at my dick, cleaning me off, and I called out "No, I can shower at the big house.... The shit...."
"Steve, he's been waiting for you to come for a massage for a long time now! Every night in the showers he cleans himself right out, in the hope you'll come and he can ride you....", another of the drays told me, and the guy with his mouth around my dick continued to lick and suck greedily at me.
Well, this was a bit of a turn-up for the book! Not only did guys want me to fuck them, it seemed, but I have to say I'd actually enjoyed it - the way that the tight, warm ass lips gripped my dick was fantastic, so much better than fucking pussy. And kissing a big strong bloke, one who thrust his tongue and down my throat and who responded when I did the same to him, rather than just lying there passively, was something else. And I liked the feel of his hard body as it pressed and slid against mine as we let our passions cool down - so much more exciting than the soft skin of a bitch. As these thoughts raced through my head it came to me, though: I must be a fag to enjoy this - I mean, one guy isn't really meant to enjoy another one like that, is he? As gently as I could I broke off and sat up, then scrambled to my feet and searched for my shorts. It was almost more embarrassing than the time I had to stuff myself into my clothes and run out as the husband came in through the front door!
They all wanted me to stay the night, and I reckoned that if I did, I'd be fucking some of the others, and I wasn't like that.... Or was I? I stumbled out a few words about having to be up especially in the morning and almost staggered out of the stables, so drunk was I on what had happened.
The next morning Rob was waiting by the pool again, and determined not to cause any trouble, I immediately pulled off my T and stripped off my shorts before starting to clean the pool. He sat there watching me, and then afterwards challenged me to another race - which I barely won. He had a big white fluffy towel to dry himself, but nothing like that is provided for slaves, of course - well, slaves aren't meant to be in the pool at all, as I've told you, so perhaps that's not surprising. But you'd have thought that he might have let me use his. So I had to stand there in the cool air planing the water off my body, and resisting the natural reaction to start shivering.
"I've talked to my dad", Rob finally said, and he agrees with me that you're not properly dressed - it's OK when you're naked or in a G-string, as everyone can see your brand. But when you're in a T and shorts - especially some of those dad lets you wear which hardly look like slave shorts as they're so long and baggy, it would be easy to mistake you for a free man, especially as you're a whitey. So you're going to wear a collar in future."
"That will upset the gymnastics - your father said he didn't want to see me in a heavy collar, as...."
"Shut the fuck up! The rules have changed. I want you collared - dad wants you collared - and so collared you will be." With that he opened a small box that was lying on the table beside him and inside were a set of thin stainless-steel collars. "These are thin enough not to upset that precious body of yours - and yet they scream 'slave' as no free man now ever wears anything around the neck. Come over here and kneel down."
I knelt on the tiles of the pool surround, and I can remember to this day how the hard surface began to hurt my knees. He had me like that as I was now at a convenient height for him to be able to reach out and without stirring himself unnecessarily, to try the collars on me - the metal was cold against the skin, or was the chill that was running through me something more? Was it a grim warning to me of how my life would be when my owner gave me to Rob? I'd no longer be a personal trainer, almost a buddy of my owner, but would instead be a normal, collared slave.
The "fitting" went on and on, and I got restive as it seemed to me there was very little difference between the collars he was fitting on me. My knees - and my toes, which were crushed a bit as I knelt there - were
so uncomfortable that I shuffled a bit, and Rob at once snapped "Steady! Are you such a dumb fuck that you can't even kneel for a bit?"
"Sorry, sir", I said, trying to sound contrite. "But it doesn't seem to me that there's a whole lot of difference between these collars...."
"It's not up to you to bother about things like that - you're not thinking like a slave, you're still a bit like a free man. I reckon my dad's been far too lenient with you, and that's all going to change. Anyway, I will keep fitting these collars until I get one that I think is right - and you're fucking lucky that I'm taking all this trouble. If a collar is too loose, it will abrade your skin and case scabbing and dad wouldn't want that. And if it's too tight, then when you're really working and your neck muscles swell, it will start to cut off the air supply: and we don't want your efficiency reduced!"
That sounded fucking typical of the way they treat slaves - never mind that I might be choking if the collar was too tight, it was my "efficiency" that was all that mattered. The session went on and on, until finally he was satisfied - he ran his finger around my collar, in-between it and my skin, and pronounced himself satisfied. I hated it, having him do this to me: feeling his finger against my neck, and knowing he felt ownership of me as I now wore his collar. But what was I supposed to do?
"Right, hold still now - I'm going to make it permanent", he said. "I just have to break this little thingy, and the glue will seal the join." He was bending right over me and I could fee his hot breath on my body as he worked away. And as I looked, I saw his shorts were tenting up in the front - evidently collaring a slave, or feeling his skin at close quarters, was turning him on.
He nodded to give me permission to get to my feet and I stood there, half erect, and I couldn't help putting my hand up to my neck and feeling my collar, the symbol of my slavedom. He watched, perhaps a little amused, then said "I also spoke to dad about your shorts. He lets you wear standard slave shorts, and all kinds of other stuff, doesn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well not any more! I told him we're wasting a valuable asset by having you all covered up, and so I got these for you - here, put them on."
The shorts were white, like standard slave shorts, but looked very small. They were kind of stretchy, and once I'd got my legs in I went to pull them up, only to find that they stopped about an inch above my dick, as they were so low cut. I stood there, tugging at them ineffectually, and Rob laughed.
"It's no good, Steve - they're really low-rise! We want to see your hipbones, we want to see the way that lovely muscular belly is tapering down to the top of your legs; and at the back the way the top of your ass crack is now exposed gives us the idea of the excitement waiting down there...."
He watched me in my futile efforts to make myself a bit more "decent", then went on "I reckon you'll need to trim your pubes even more - even though you've lost most of them, I can still see the hairline straggling over the top..... There's no chance that your T is going to cover it as most of the time those shorts are all you're ever going to wear. And when we do let you have a T, it's going to stop short, well above your belly button, so we can still enjoy that six pack of yours."
"Sir, why...?"
"Shut the fuck up, as I've told you before! It's not up to a slave to question his owner, or his owner's son. We've decided we want to enjoy the sight of your body, and that's all there is to it. There will be some other changes, to - on Saturday night when you're performing on the mat, we're reducing the size of the pouch of your G-string, so that will be another reason why you'll need to do a bit more trimming. And dad and I are going to really inspect you this weekend - I reckon it would be a good idea for you to be totally shaved below the eyebrows, so we can really see all your muscles. Dad thinks that thatch of hair on you looks 'masculine', but I'm talking to him about the latest fashion, and that's definitely for 'show' slaves to be totally smooth. So expect more changes...."
"Please, sir, I....."
"You don't get it, do you, Steve? I told you once to shut the fuck up. I told you a second time not to question my orders. I think it's time I taught you a lesson. Take the shorts off, and bend over the table!"
Once again I found myself exposed to his gaze, as he roughly kicked at my ankles to make me spread my legs as I lay there. He rested his hands on my butt, and he told me "This is so tempting, Steve! A big, muscular butt like this, and inside, deep down there, a virgin ass - well, almost virgin - waiting for me. I'm so tempted to fuck you right here and now, but I think I'm going to resist the temptation again as I'd rather wait until you're totally mine. If I fuck you hard now, you'll be sore and then I know what slaves do: you'll tell dad that your performance on Saturday was bad because of it. Once you're totally mine there'll be no excuses - if I fuck you until you're bleeding, that will be my choice."
He paused for a moment, then went on "But you do need to be taught proper slave manners, and unfortunately I can't do what I do to my valet and take the punishment cane to you: the stripes on his butt after that last over a week, as I'm something of an expert, and dad wouldn't like it if on Saturday night his guests were to see that you're so wilful that you need punishment.
Dad prides himself on being a good owner, and a good owner rarely needs to punish his slaves. So I guess it will have to be this...."
As I watched he slipped his trainers off and stood there in his bare feet on the pool side. The front of his swimming shorts were definitely now tented.
The first blow was still a surprise: well, I'm not used to the idea that one guy will hit another one deliberately, like that, with a trainer on his bare butt. I know I've hit a lot of guys when I was in the marines ,but that was always part of training, or in battle. The idea that you might take a guy and start to beat him with the sole object of causing pain was alien to me. Without realising it I'd taken another stop on the road to becoming a "proper" slave, a slave who could be physically punished for displeasing my owner. And not even my owner - I'd displeased a sixteen year old boy, and because of that he was now able to make me lie there bare-assed naked and be physically abused by him.
Although it hurt, I suppose it's better than the cane or the whip. And Rob soon tired of taking swipes at my butt and instead stood there rubbing his hands over my ass cheeks, and telling me how it wouldn't be long before I'd be lying there as I was now, but reaching back to pull my butt apart so that his dick could go up me. I hated the fact that his sixteen year old was treating me just as if I was some sort of plaything - I was a tough ex-marine, and I didn't think he ought to do this to me.
For the rest of the week, though, I had to exercise and run in these tiny shorts, and in some ways it was worse than working totally naked on the drays - at least there I was with the other guys and we were doing good, honest work - now, as I pounded my way along the roads and paths when I was out running I felt as if I was something else - an ornament, a symbol of how one man could impose his will on another by making him disport himself in a totally humiliating way.
My owner came down late on Friday night, so I didn't see him until I was waiting patiently outside the door of the big house to see if he'd appear for his morning run on Saturday. He bounded down the steps, saw me standing there, and burst into laughter. "Steve, buddy - you look amazing: those shorts really look good on you, and the collar - well it contrasts so well with your bare skin. Rob's done a good job, don't you think?"
"Rob says a slave shouldn't think, sir."
A faint smile twitched at his lips. "I take it you are not as enthusiastic about your new costume as Rob is! Still, no matter. Come on - I really want you to make me work this morning...."
We set off and I reckoned he sometimes quite deliberately dropped back so he could look at me from behind - normally we ran along side by side. At the halfway point when we stopped so he could get his breath, he was still smiling. "I've never noticed your butt before, Steve - but it is exceptional, isn't it?"
"If you say so, sir."
"Hey, Steve, you're not going to go all sullen on me, are you? I thought we had one of those special owner and slave relationships where we could both relax a bit...."
"I thought so too, sir."
"It's the collar, and the shorts, isn't it? For fuck's sake, what's wrong with them? All my other slaves are collared, and this is a light, fashionable one that surely doesn't interfere with you. And as for the shorts - well, the other week when you were working on the drays, you were start naked...."
"So you knew I was working on the drays?"
"Yes - they sent me some pictures, and I must say seeing your tanned body contrasting with the black of the niggas was quite something."
"....so you knew I couldn't practice, so it should have been no surprise that my performance was off that weekend...."
"Oh Steve, come on! It's not as if it was all that important...."
"You didn't have the agony of Rob's punishment....."
"Look, I'm not going to carry on this conversation. You're a slave, and a slave accepts. And that's all there is to it."
With that ,he jogged off in the direction of home, and I had no option but to follow him. Mind you, given that he was not treating me as well as he used to, I decided to make it hard for him: I ran ahead of him, gradually increasing my pace, and occasionally looking over my shoulder and calling out "Have you seen enough of my butt yet, sir?"
He didn't want to slow down - if he had, and the gap had been too large, I'd have slowed down. It was as if he wanted to "prove" himself to me. Stupid, really, as a guy in his fifties is never going to be able to outperform one in his late twenties. It didn't stop him trying, though, and when we got back to the house he was really exhausted. He refused my advice that we should both gently jog around a bit to cool down, and stormed off in the direction of the fitness suite, followed by me. I was beginning to get worried that I might have really upset him, and he sank onto one of the benches panting and puffing, the sweat streaming down him and soaking his clothes.
"Oh, fuck me! Cramp.....", he finally muttered, and started to rub his thigh urgently.
"Lie down, sir, and I'll massage you", I shouted. I was clearly in charge now as stuff like that is my business. I helped him pull his T off and then I pulled his shorts down and led him, limping, to the massage table. The oil in the fitness suite smells a lot nicer than the stuff they give the drays, I'll say that for it, and soon I was probing his big ass and thigh muscles with my powerful fingers. He started to give sighs of satisfaction, indicating that it was working and the pain was going away. Then I noticed that I was in the same state as the dray who had massaged me: I was really turned on, and it was almost painful to have my dick pressed against the tiny shorts I was wearing. So painful, in fact, that I stopped for a moment and pulled them off - it's not as if he hadn't seen me naked hundreds of times before, after all.
I was kneeling over him therefore, and to my horror realised I was dripping pre-cum onto his back. I went to wipe it away, but at that moment he raised himself slightly and turned his head around. "Ah, Steve.... I wondered what that was, brushing against me, occasionally - I actually excite you, do I?"
"Sir, no, sir! It's just... Well, for some reason, massaging your body.... I've got a hard-on. I'm sorry, sir."
"Carry on anyway, Steve.... It's not unpleasant." So I carried on massaging his back, and somehow I couldn't resist letting mg my dick trail along his flesh. I was rock solid and 'skinned back, and I suppose the first time it happened it was an accident:
the head of my dick brushed the top of his ass crack as he lay there, and I almost moaned with the exquisite sensation that pulsed through me.
Well, I couldn't let it stop here, could I? Slowly, making as if it was part of the normal massage, I pulled his but cheeks apart and stared at the sweat-soaked forest of his hair down there. Then I gradually let my dick trail up and down it, and when I first touched his actual pucker, and he shifted and gave a low moan, I almost shouted out, so intense was the sensation.
I got bolder and bolder, and started to run one hand lightly over his back whilst with the other I guided my dick up and down his ass crack. Then I stopped, and nudged gently at his pucker with the tip of my dick that was now almost running with pre-cum. My owner moaned and wriggled slightly, and emboldened by this, I pushed a bit to try to force an entrance.
Suddenly the boss called "Enough, Steve!"
I pulled back, almost in terror, and the boss turned around and sat up and patted the side of the massage table, indicating I should sit by him. He put his arm around my shoulder, and with his other hand began to idly toy with my erect dick. "So, Steve, you like man on man sex, do you? I thought when I took your cherry that you were a virgin...."
"No, sir! No, I don't."
"For a man who doesn't find another man's asshole exciting, you sure have an odd way of showing it." He gripped my dick harder and began to stroke it, and there was a laughing tone in his voice.
"No, sir... I'm straight. I don't like other guys, sir... It's just that the drays you mentioned... Well, we're sort of buddies, and last night...."
"Ah, so you've started down the path of real sex, have you? And look at you now..... at that moment, the boss's attention to my dick had the obvious effect and I pumped cum out - and when I pump, I really pump: some of it shot across the room, and the rest lay there in a big, white puddle on my thigh.
"I think we will need to continue your education later, Steve! Rob told me he thought that like a lot of men you were actually gay, but liked to act straight..."
"No, sir, I am straight. I fuck women, sir...."
"...and you were in the marines, Steve! Everyone knows that men who have an affinity with other men tend to be found clustered in the armed forces - where else can you be so close to so many other men and yet be seen as 'straight'? All living together in the barracks, running around half naked, communal showers, all that sort of stuff... And, of course, the companionship. I read a most interesting book the other day that postulated that most guys in the forces sublimate part of their sex drive so that they can be with other guys, really close, but don't have to admit they're gay. So you may not have actually had sex with your marine buddies, but the experience in the Corps was giving you something you were missing - close companionship with other men, things like that. Tell me, though: there must have been men in your barracks who actually fucked each other?"
"Yes, sir, but we didn't talk about it. We were men, sir, real men..."
"And you don't think real men like sex with other men?
What about your dray buddies? Aren't they real men?"
Sir, yes, sir...."
"And they like fucking other men?"
"Well yes, sir...."
"I think that prove it, Steve! Anyway, no time for more talk now as I have some work to do before tonight's little entertainment.... Which, I trust, is going to show you off to your best advantage?"
I felt really miserable as I muttered "Yes, sir, Rob's got me a new G-string - he says it's even tinier...."
My owner just laughed. "That boy spends too much time reading the slave magazines. Still, we shall see what we shall see....", and with that he walked off, uncaring that he was naked.
Well my display was OK that evening - I did all the mat work wearing the most absurdly little G-string I'd ever seen - it barely covered me at all, and my pubes sprayed out all around. In a way it was better to be naked, as I was when I did the rings and the parallel bars and the horse routines. There was a change from the normal routine, though: instead of being allowed to go away and shower and dress afterwards, Rob told me to stay in the room with all the other men, so I had to stand there, my chest heaving as my lungs tried to recover, and sweat pouring off me. I could see most of the men looking at me with huge interest, and it wasn't like it usually was, that they were admiring an athlete. No, somehow, perhaps it was my collar, perhaps it was something Rob had told them over dinner... Something made them look at me more as a sexual object. I hated it. I mean, I'd heard that some men bought others to use purely for sex, and I suppose that I was a prime candidate to be used in that way: after all, what man doesn't want to sexually subdue a big, strong, handsome, masculine guy who he knows has the power to beat him to a pulp except for the fact that he's enslaved - but my owner had never used me that way. I sincerely hoped that things were not about to change.
The following morning I ran and worked out with my owner again, and then after lunch, when he was preparing to go back to New York, I heard him arguing with Rob. He was insisting that Rob accompany him, but Rob didn't want to go, saying he wanted to stay on the demesne and enjoy the sun, and do some revision for some exam or other. The debate seemed to centre on whether it was going to be " safe" - my owner wanted Rob to leave with him just to be sure, and Rob was saying that the problem was over fifty miles away and that the National Guard had been called out and would fix it.
Rob and his father carried on arguing as I lurked around ,trying to look inconspicuous, and trying to understand more of what the problem was - as a slave I wasn't allowed to watch the news channels on TV, and I really did miss knowledge of happenings in the world. But you know how it is - when two men are talking about something they know about and of which you are unaware, it's almost impossible to really get an understanding of the situation, and after a few minutes m owner just shrugged, told Rob to take care and to "get out if it looks as if the situation is deteriorating", and went out into the limo to take him to the airport.
End Of Part Three