THE SPOILS OF WAR by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 27
Another transporter truck. We all sat there, huddled together, wondering where we were going, and whether the work we'd have to do in our new place would be better, or worse. My only worry was that we might have been sold off to the mines, as I'd heard that slaves there had a really dreadful time of it; but I didn't voice this concern, except in a whispered conversation with Ali so he would be prepared, in case it upset the other guys.
We didn't go all that far, though - only about three hours or so. Of course we still had no exact idea where we were as we'd never learned the place where the original farm was. Still, we must still be in the South, and so we were still going to be slaves, weren't we?
They unloaded us onto a beautiful green lawn in front of one of those elegant white southern mansions - the sort that have big columns down the front, and a wide veranda all around them. We stood there, stretching our limbs and breathing in the warm, fresh air (as usual it had been pretty fetid in the truck, as we'd all had to piss). Two guards - they all seemed to have the same kind of "uniform" to do this job - crisp shorts, short sleeved shirts, black leather belts, black boots, and a variety of prods and whips hanging about them - paced up and down. Without saying a word they marched us off around to the back, and there the situation changed a bit - the elegant white mansion had a neat slave quarters in a separate block, and they led us in through the doors. The guards lined us up, consulted papers, and went up to Ali. He was called forward out of the line, and told to bend over a small table they carried up, and then, to our astonishment, a high speed electric saw was brought over and they proceeded to saw through the coupling holding him to the coffle. To cries of alarm from my fellows - soon silenced by threats from the guards - Ali was led off, and the rest of us were left standing there.
Actually, this place didn't seem to treat slaves too badly - the seven off us were taken down a corridor and locked into a slave cage, but it was big, and light, and airy, and, luxury of luxuries, there were even sleeping pads made of foam rubber on the floor! We had a place to get water, too - there was a kind of nipple thing on the wall which you could put your mouth over and when you pressed with your tongue, you got cool, fresh water. It was a bit difficult to use, as we were chained together, but we all shuffled past it, and felt a lot better. We were even more amazed when, in addition to the normal slave chow, the guards even tossed some apples into the cage a few minutes later. We fell on them and devoured them all - literally! Even the stalk and the pips! It was so long since any of us had anything other than slave chow that we'd forgotten how food tasted, and even now I can remember the shock as the tart sweetness of that apple hit my tongue.
In the absence of Ali, the other guys sort of looked to me as a leader, and they clustered close to me that night, as if the presence of my body could provide them ith some protection. We were so used to sleeping on the hard dirt floor of the barn that even though it would have been more comfortable to sleep on the sleeping pads, we all still lay in a heap, as if we needed the comfort of each others closeness at this time. The men all whispered to me to see if I knew what had happened to Ali, but all I could do was tell them that I had no more idea than they did, but that we needed to remain strong, and hope that he was going to be OK. I don't think that any of us really slept that night, though- we were all too worried about what was going to happen to us, and what had happened to Ali. I didn't like to say it out loud, but the thought had occurred to me that perhaps they had mistaken Ali for me, and he'd been taken off for gelding by some bizarre twist of fate.
The next morning we were allowed to shower - an unbelievable luxury for us! No more hose and scrubbing brush wielded by slaves, but a proper warm shower, where we were actually allowed to soap ourselves and clean each other! And afterwards, they actually issued us with razors so we could stand there and shave each other. This must be slave heaven we thought, and a couple of the guys who had still clung to a shred of their absurd religion said that at any moment they expected to see their prophet guiding them even further into paradise! The guards fed us again - and we had more fruit, too, and then we were taken out onto the smooth green lawn and commanded to wait there.
It was all very mysterious, but I sensed trouble when the guards told us to stop and line up neatly (I was now having to act as translator as Ali had gone) and line up neat row. Two white robed figures appeared on the veranda, and they seemed to be arguing with each other, the leading one fatter and evidently older than the younger one. They made their way across the grass towards us, and as they got closer I felt my fellow slaves stirring with excitement - I couldn't imagine why, until I realised that the younger guy was Ali! He didn't acknowledge us, though, as he was engaged in a furious argument with the older man. I was fluent enough now to be able to follow it
"Ali, it is impossible! It was difficult enough to locate you and I had to buy the whole coffle! I cannot afford to let all the slaves go..."
"Father, it's not a choice! These are my men: good men, loyal men, who fought with me against the invaders... I will not go back to our country and leave them here to live out their lives as slaves..."
"You will do as I command, my son. Not only because you are my son, and you have a duty to wards me for that reason, but because you are also my slave - you forget that I bought you, and that, in law, you are my property. You will return with me to our lands, and these other slaves will remain here - they will not have a bad life on our plantation, and they will be treated well..."
"No, father! These are free men, fighters, our own countrymen...."
"All except for the American - yes, I know all about his history, as I paid well for my agents to locate you, and when they did, they also unearthed this slave's curious tale. He is the enemy, Ali, and even though I will keep our fellow countrymen here as gardeners and so on, he will be sold - he's a marine, the type who are holding our country in captivity, and he deserves to continue to be treated as the low life that he is..."
"No, father!"
"Yes, my son. You will return with me. Our fellow countrymen will remain here as slaves working the grounds - the work is not hard, and they will be well treated. And the American will be sold, sold to live out his life in a coffle where he will be worked into an early grave. And so to all the infidels who invaded our country...."
"But father, Steve did not do that. He never left the USA, he...."
"Silence! Return to the house and prepare to leave: we are travelling home on one of our oil tankers and time is money - we do not want the sailing to be delayed."
"No, father!"
"You will do as you are told, my son. A son owes a duty to his father, even though you are thirty years old, and you will obey. And, as I said, you are as lave, and will obey for that reason if no other."
We all stood there listening to this, and then, to our astonishment, as we watched, Ali let his robe fall to the ground. He was wearing small white briefs underneath, the pure white of the cotton contrasting with the deep tan of his flesh, and as if it was the most normal thing in the world, he pushed these down over his hips and let them drop to the ground. He "fluffed" his dick to free it from his balls where it had been squashed, and came and stood next to me, in the space created on the chain by his removal from the coffle.
"You say I am a slave, father! Well, this is how slaves appear in front of their owners. I am a naked slave of yours, father - you own me, as you said. And so I will take my place with the other slaves, back in the coffle."
His father seemed to be almost apoplectic with rage, and turned and stalked back towards the house. All eight of us stood there, and I whispered to Ali "Please... Don't do this for me... I'm tough, I can survive... Go back home... Give all the other guys a chance of an easy life: being a slave here doesn't seem to be all that bad...."
"Silence!", one of the guards shouted, and I felt the sting of a tawse on my bare butt - not serious, really, but enough to remind me that they had all the power, all the control, and that even on a relatively good plantation like this, a slave's life might not be quite as good as we had all been imagining.
We all waited in the morning sun wondering what was going to happen next, until Ali's father reappeared, followed by two guards carrying a standard semi-portable flogging horse. They put it down on the grass in front of us, then the guards came over and pulled Ali over towards it. They were clearly experienced, as before he could protest or even struggle, they had him across the horse and his ankles and wrists pushed firmly into the restraints on its legs.
Ali's father advanced on him, and I'm sure I saw Ali's thighs tremble with fear - or was it anticipation, or was it shame? We had a grandstand view of the thrashing that his father now gave him - his ass was towards us, so we could see his dick and balls hanging down between his thighs, and his father stood at right angles to bring the long, flexible cane down again and again onto Ali's butt. We watched as his whole body jerked convulsively as each blow landed, and we could see the red marks appearing on the deeply tanned flesh as the beating continued. We all knew that Ali was tough and strong, and that he must have hated doing it: but after the fourth or fifth blow, he just couldn't help crying out as each stroke of the cane cut into his flesh
His father went on and on, and had I not been confined in the coffle, and known that had I made a move the prod would have been used to make us all insensible, I'd have rushed over and stopped him. He seemed to have lost all sense of proportion - this was not just a mild caning, administered to an unruly slave, but a hard, vicious attach that was probably doing serious damage. I guessed that Ali and his father had always had disagreements, and now, at this climactic moment, his father was punishing Ali not just for his attitude to his fellow slaves, but for all the other irritations, disappointments and arguments that fathers and sons inevitably have in the course of their lives. Young men always challenge the authority of their fathers, and now it seemed as if Ali's father was taking revenge.
It only stopped when the father was plainly completely exhausted, and he strode off back into the plantation house. The guards released the bindings holding Ali to the horse, but then had to help him to his feet, so severe had the beating been. Even in his terrible state Ali tried to stagger back over towards us, to rejoin us, but the guards held him firmly by the arms and took him off back towards the house.
"Show's over, boys!", one of the guards said almost cheerily, and he led us back to the slave quarters, where we were again caged together. We all sat around, and the men and I all discussed what we had seen. It seemed amazing to us all that his father had managed to buy us, but then, as was pointed out to me, Ali's family was fabulously wealthy and were in the ruling class in their country. Such people always do well, even if the country is invaded and conquered - indeed, they probably collaborated with the South, and consolidated their wealth and power. The men told me that they didn't doubt that he could use his position and wealth to track Ali down, and then to buy him - but they couldn't understand why he wouldn't also free them all and let them return to their homes.
"I don't like to say this, guy", I told them "But that' s what rulers always do. You're strong, brave fighters, and if I was a member of this 'ruling class', I wouldn't want you back in the country - you'd never settle back to your normal work, and you'd always be fermenting dissent and trouble. I mean, you'd be agitating for your rulers to locate and buy back all your fellow countrymen, wouldn't you? If you were returned and freed, why not do the same for all those other poor bastards in the coffles? And it's not as if there wouldn't be the money - your rulers must be making billions from the oil...."
We spent another day sitting there, and it was so unusual for us! I suggested that we all do exercises as our bodies were not used to being idle, and we did, although without much enthusiasm. After I'd fucked one of my fellows that night and we were just lying close, arms wrapped around each other, he whispered "Do you think Ali will succeed, Steve? I'd like to go home, like to go back to my wife, and my children..."
"You've got a wife?!" I couldn't keep the tone of astonishment out of my voice, as he was known to be one of the most enthusiastic participants in our sex games.
"Of course! I needed sons, and now I have two, I do not need to breed further. I want to see my sons, who were only babies when I fought in the war, but who will now be growing into proper little men."
"Look, I can't say whether Ali is going to manage it or not - but if anyone can, it's him. You saw how he returned to the coffle, and how he was punished...."
That seemed to calm him a little, and as I drifted off into sleep I wondered how many of my fellow coffle mates were married and had kids - you'd never guess it, from the way we all fucked so enthusiastically!
Ali was thrown back into our cage later that night. We all clustered around him, and even after all those hours he was in considerable pain from the beating he'd received, and winced if we even touched his butt gently. He settled himself in-between our naked bodies, though, and his men were all asking what was happening.
"My father will not relent. He requires me to go home, and leave you here as slaves. And especially you, Steve, he insists you're sold...."
It was interesting to see the debate that then went on. Some of the men thought that he had an absolute duty to his father, to do as he was ordered and return. And some of the men pleaded not to be left as slaves, even though we all know that this place was far, far better than the farm we had been on. I just sat there quietly, until Ali put his arm around my shoulders, and said quietly "And what about you, Steve? Should I abandon you, to be sold off into another of those foul work coffles? Leave you here to be worked to death....?"
"Yes." I replied, keeping my voice equally low, as I ought to keep emotion out of it. "You must go. No useful purpose is served by condemning yourself to perpetual slavery. If you return with your father, maybe one day you will inherit his fortune, and you will be able to return and free your men...."
"But what about you, Steve? This is my father's American estate, and the men here can be looked after.
But you will have disappeared into the mass of slaves spread all around - even if they have not worked you to death, you will be impossible to trace...."
"Yes, Ali... But it's only me, whereas if you go back, you will save yourself, and can make sure the rest of your men do eventually get free. You're a commander, aren't you? And sometimes commanders have to take hard decisions, deciding to do things they'd probably rather not do in the interests of the greater good. It's good to be in command most of the time, but when the payback comes, it can be tough.... that's when real commanders don't flinch from doing the right thing"
"No, Steve."
"Yes, Ali. It's the only way. You know I'm right. Show me how brave you really are, show me how tough a commander you are by making the decision that you know you have to make."
Our love making that night was so completely different, so much better than anything we had ever done before. The other guys ignored us as we lay in each others arms, talking, kissing, and fondling each other. I desperately wanted to fuck Ali for one last time, but with the damage to his butt, it was out of the question - he begged with me to put myself in his ass one last time, telling me that he could bear the pain in return for feeling my dick in him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He went down on m dick then, kissing it, playing with my piss slit with his tongue, and stroking my balls with one hand as with the other he tweaked my nips, and then, when I could bear it no more and had shot and filled his mouth with my cum, he bent over my face and we kissed deeply, sharing my cum on our beating tongues.
"Give me something to remember you by, Ali", I then whispered. "Fuck me."
"But Steve, you don't take it..."
"Ali, I want you, I need you. I want you buried deep inside me, so that I'll have a final, special memory of your body. Do it, Ali...."
And he did, but with such exquisite gentleness and stealth that I hardly noticed his hard, warm dick forcing it s way past my sphincters. And then of course as he slowly and languorously fucked me, we shared that most beautiful experience that only two fit hard men can have when they're making love, not just having sex.
He was crying when he'd finished, and we lay together still, and I licked the salt tears off his cheeks. And then it was morning, and the guards came and pulled him away from us, for what we all thought must be the last time. As they led him away, protesting , down the corridor, he was still calling out exhortations and encouragements to the men, telling them to be strong, and not to give up hope.
We went through our daily exercises with very heavy hearts, and later they even got us started on the type of tasks I though we'd be doing on that plantation - or, rather, what the other six guys would be doing! It was easy, really - pushing lawnmowers over the beautiful green lawns, then weeding and stuff like that. Not at all hard, but not really the type of work that big strong men needed to use their bodies for.
We were allowed to shower again that night, and we got more fruit as well as slave chow, and I tried to cheer the guys up by pointing out that this was a pretty superior kind of place to be a slave in, but now they seemed reconciled to have lost Ali, and were sad that they were going to lose me! How different it was from when I'd first been put into the coffle, and they'd tried to injure or even kill me as a "dammed Yankee".
The next morning we were all lined up again and the little table was brought forward, and I was pushed down onto it so that they could saw me free from the coffle chain. And then they led me off, to heartfelt cries of farewell from my buddies. I knew that this was it, and was expecting to be taken out side and thrown into a slave transporter to be carried off for re-coffling, and I thought of making a break for it- plunging my fist into the belly of the guard, and running! But what was the point? I didn't know where I was, except that I was somewhere in the deep South; I was naked; and I guessed that anyone who saw me would not give me shelter, but would reach for the phone and call the cops.
To my surprise, though, I was taken over into the plantation house, and I felt really cold as for the first time in so many years the whisper of air-conditioned air came onto my naked skin. They led me through the huge hall, my bare feet making "slap, slap" noises on the highly polished parquet, and into the presence of Ali's father. He was in what was some sort of study or smoking room, with leather couches, heavy velvet drapes on the windows, and the general air of opulence and wealth. The guard halted me in front of him, and Ali's father's eyes raked my naked body. Somehow being nude in these very ordinary "domestic" surroundings felt far, far worse than I'd ever felt when I'd had to toil away completely bare-assed!
"You're a handsome brute, aren't you?"
I just looked at him.
"It's traditional for slaves to reply when their owner addresses them!", he said calmly. "I can see that you're a bit of a trouble maker - and that's probably why my son likes you so much! He was always a rebel, always questioning my authority, always testing the system. I had to save him from jail several times when he questioned the rulings of our Sheikh, and the way that he ran our country..."
I still stood there, silently.
"So now I have a problem. A big problem. And one I cannot solve. Ali is sitting in his room. He resolutely refuses to dress. He says that if I am going to treat him like a slave, he will dress like a slave. He refuses to escape this life of slavery here and return with me to resume a proper life, as a well educated, rich member of our ruling family. He says that he and his men, and you, are to be treated all together, all the same."
I remained silent, and he went on "And I sense that you are the pivot around all which this turns. I have offered him a life of ease for his men. I have even compromised and said that I will take them home with us - I do not like giving in to the boy, but on this occasion he may be right - these are my people, after all, and although they are expensive, it is but a trifle compared to my total wealth. But the sticking point is you - you are an American. And I cannot - no, I will not - engineer your release."
"Why not?"
"Slave, keep a civil tongue in your head! I am your owner, you will remember!"
"Sir, why can't you take me with you?"
"Your country invaded mine, you are the enemy. You deserve to receive the harsh treatment that life as a coffle slave brings."
"But sir, it's not like that... I'm a victim of this war, too! I've lost my parents, when the South went to war on us. I was a soldier, an honourable soldier.
I've fought to liberate the oppressed peoples all over the world. I didn't ask to be enslaved, I was captured... I'm just a pawn in all of this, part of the spoils of war...."
He looked at me, and I went on "Sir, I don't know if it is allowed for me to say this... But I have a huge respect for your son. All his men think he is a good commander. He needs to be free, so that he can fight and get your country its freedom one day."
"You speak well, for a slave. But why do you refuse to give him up? He will not leave without you?"
"Sir, I haven't. I told him he must go. I told him that he needs to serve a higher purpose than looking after me. I don't want to lose him, sir, but its the best thing for him, the best thing for your country...
And a man should not argue and fight with his father, sir..." I stopped then, my voice almost choking. "I know, sir. I had lots of arguments with my father. He never wanted me to be a marine, he wanted me to go to college, but I knew better. Then he wanted me to leave, and get a job, but I knew better.... We were both strong men, sir, and we could never agree with each other. But how he's dead, and I can never tell him that he might have been right, but that a son always has to make his own way in the world. If he'd lived, sir, I think we'd have been good friends by now as we could both respect each other in a way that we couldn't at the time when we were too close to the problem. But I don't doubt, sir, that one day you and Ali will be reconciled, that you will both see each other for what you are: strong, powerful men. And men have to do what men have to do, sir."
I paused for breath, and rushed on "And just as you cannot or will not take me back to your country, sir, so Ali will not leave without me. Neither of you is right, neither of you is wrong. But if you continue like this, neither of you will ever be truly happy. A father should love his son, sir, and a son should love his father - if both of you continue to simply argue your own corner, you may never recover. Please, sir, for Ali's sake, for the sake of the relationship of you and your son, don't let your pride prevent you from doing something that will help you work towards being reconciled...."
He looked at me again. "As well as being a handsome brute, you're a clever one! If you'd begged and pleaded for tour life, I could have continued to refuse. But you have made me see that in the relationship between a father and his son there has to be some give and take. And Ali has been brave - leading his men against the invaders, giving up an easy life of luxury..."
He stared at me again, and put out his hand, palm up, in the way that I'd seen slave owners do. I moved forward, and stood with my legs slightly apart, and his moved his hand up between my thighs as I stood there, so that my balls were resting on his warm, moist palm. "So do you agree that you are a slave?"
"Sir, I was enslaved, as one of the spoils of war. And you bought me... So I must be your slave..."
He almost smiled. "Again, a good answer. Avoiding the direct 'yes' or 'no'. But yet you let me feel these big, fiery testicles, as any owner might feel those of his slave. Have you bred?"
"No, sir."
"So you have no sons to carry on your genes! Neither has Ali. He has not yet bred with his wives and produced me grandsons."
"He's married?" - I almost gasped this out as I was so surprised.
"Of course. He was betrothed when he was a child, and married at sixteen. He had four wives. But I sense from the way your balls are reacting when you talk about Ali that there is some deeper relationship between you and him?"
I blushed deeply. I mean, here was my lover's father asking me about our relationship, and I was naked in front of him, and he was holding my balls! Any of these things would have been inconceivable in my former life. But this was a time for honesty. "Sir, yes, sir. We are lovers."
He let go of my balls, took up a phone and barked something into it in Arabic so guttural that I couldn't follow it. He sat there looking at me, and in my confusion, I felt my dick starting to erect.
"Yes, slave, I can see why Ali likes you - a most desirable set of organs for any man..." He said.
The door opened then, and a guard led Ali, naked as I was, into the room. He tore free of the guard, rushed over, and threw his arms around me, rubbing his dick up and down against me and burying his face in my shoulder. I'd have died if someone had done that to me in front of my day, but evidently Ali didn't care.
"This slave has told me many truths, my son", Ali's father said. "And I can see that there is a deep bond of affection between you. All my life you and I have argued, and I have always stood my ground, as a father must show his son who is master. But perhaps I have been too harsh, and I am going to reverse the habits of a lifetime and give in to you, to let you have your way. The slave can accompany us back to our country, along with your other men."
"Father...." Ali let go of me, and rushed and threw his arms around his father's neck, and hugged him. I watched as the red, yellow and blue of the weals and bruises on his butt ran up and down as he hugged the man, and I wondered again what my father would have thought if I'd ever appeared like that in front of him, and embraced him when I was totally nude!
The Arab broke away, and went on "But in this spirit of compromise, you must do something in return, my son."
"Yes, father, anything..."
"Anything...?"
"Oh yes, father..."
"Very well. You must breed. You must produce sons from those wives of yours. Grandsons, who I can train to carry on the family traditions..."
"But father I no longer wish to lie with women..."
"My son, this is so typical of you. I agree to everything you want, and you will not do this simple thing for me. I am the laughing stock in the Ruling Council, as even with a big, virile son like you, with four wives, I do not have any grandchildren. It's such a little thing, my son - a few minutes at most...."
"No, father! I've told you - my life is devoted to my men. And now I really know what being with men means, there is just no way...."
"Ali", I cut in "Listen to him! Come on, for fucks sake ..." I put my arms around him again, feeling his hard dick thrusting into my belly, and whispered "Just agree, will you, you stubborn bastard! Look at how far he's come... "
"No, Steve, I can't...."
"Even if I help you? If you don't give him something now, the whole deal will be off - I know his type. Think of what he's given up: a lifetime of ordering you to obey, and having you do it.... Then when the chips are down, it's him who has to go back on all those old habits.... You've got to trade something back to him in return, Ali."
"What?"
"You've got four wives, right? So let's you and I 'play' as we usually do, then I'll fuck one of them and you can fuck another... It won't be so difficult, really... We'll make it a game.... I've been with women, so I know what to do.... You can fuck them and think of me, and afterwards...."
"And afterwards, I'll fuck you, Steve?"
"No! Last night was a one-off..."
"Oh Steve, you've just been telling me we all need to trade a little to win the deal....!"
Smiling, he broke away from me, walked back to his father, his dick bobbing bravely in front of him, and embraced the man.
End Of Part 27