THE SPOILS OF WAR by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 5
It didn't seem so bad the next day. Sure, we were locked in our "barracks" with guards patrolling down the corridor on the other side of the barred wall, but otherwise life wasn't so different from life on a marines base.
They banged the bars to wake us all up, then we got out of our bunks, most of us with our morning boners (you just don't comment about that in the barracks - every one has them but no one talks about them) and pulled on our "uniforms" of the brief shorts and skimpy Ts. The guards then led us out into what must normally be part of the car park for this huge building, and for two hours we did hard physical exercises, along with all the other slaves in the place, under the "command" of one big muscular slave who really reminded me of my drill instructor at boot camp! All the time there were guards with rifles around, and I didn't doubt that we'd be shot if we tried to escape, and so we all just stayed there and did it. Still, I actually enjoyed it - I like working my body hard, and the more I sweated, the happier I felt.
After that we went inside and showered and got fresh clothes, munched away at our "rations", the large biscuit things that we were given as our food, and then went away to individual exercises. As most of you will know, it's difficult to really get guys to exercise hard unless they're truly motivated, so most exercise facilities for slaves have some form of coercion built into the machines, and the various gyms and exercise rooms here were no exception. The trainers would set the repetition rate, or the speed, or tension, or whatever for each of us, depending on their judgement of what we needed, and then the timer;
then when they said "go" you then had to do it or else you got that stimulating little shock running through you - the light chain holding you on the machine allowed of no escape, and so you exercised at the rate they wanted for the time they wanted, irrespective of what you wanted! It wasn't all that hard for me, actually, as I like to be pushed to my limits when I'm exercising, but judging from the occasional screams and curses you heard, some guys were zapped quite often.
We were fed again in the middle of the day - I guess we were really burning up the calories - and allowed to rest for an hour or so, then more exercises until "dinner", and being locked back into our "barracks". Most of us were so tired then that all we wanted to do was just lie on our bunks and sleep.
This routine went on for five days, but on day six there was a small change - we were lined up and then stood there as, one after the other, we were photographed as they were putting the finishing touches to the sale catalogue, they said, and needed to get he web site up to date. It looked like an ordinary photographer's studio - one of those fancy cameras, and strong lights, but otherwise the place was bare. You had to stand up against a grid of lines drawn on the wall whilst he took the pictures, so that any prospective purchasers interested in your body size could get a visual clue, as well as reading your statistics. I was told to strip, as this was always done of the full nude body, I was told, then stood there as they did the various shots: full body, at ease, front; full body, at ease, rear; left side; right side; and then that "Michaelangelo" pose where you stand with your legs spread and your arms forming a giant "X" with them. That was all bad enough - I mean, supposing my mom or dad happened to tap into the web site and see me naked like that - but then they did the dick shots! You had a close-up of your dick and balls flaccid, then the photographer casually told me, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, to make myself go fully erect so he could photograph my dick side ways on!
It's not that easy - especially when there's a load of guys who you now know quite well standing there in the room, watching. And it was especially tough for me, as after he'd done all that, he told me to 'skin back so he could do it all again with my head exposed. I've told you how, for an uncut guy, exposing the head in public is awful, and now here I was doing it so that the whole world could see it if they wanted to. The "mug shots" were OK - staring straight into the camera, and then the side, but the last one was absolutely the worst of all - I was told to sit on a chair, then haul my knees up towards my chest, keeping them apart. The photographer then came in real close, hunching himself down, so that he could poke his lenses in so he was almost touching my hole to take that one.
I actually protested to him about that, risking a prodding. "Please, sir, don't... Please don't put those pictures of my dick and asshole on the web, sir.
I'd be so ashamed if my folks, or any of my old buddies, were to see them..."
"Boy, you don't understand, do you? You're a slave now. A slave can feel no shame at having any part of him exposed if that's what his owner wants. You should only feel happy and proud that you're fulfilling your owner's purpose - a slave's highest duty is to obey his owner and to make life better for him. It can't possibly be embarrassing or humiliating for a slave to appear naked, or to do anything at all with his body, if that's what his owner required: embarrassment and shame have no place in a slave's life unless, that is, because the slave knows that he is doing something that would displease his owner! That's the only time you should ever be embarrassed or ashamed, boy. Men can be ashamed, embarrassed, and humiliated, but such things have no part in a slave's life, except, as I said, if you're being disobedient. So let's hear no more of this. Anyway, I'm done with you.... Get dressed, and get along, as I have a lot of you to do today."
Most of the other guys were, like me, angry and humiliated about what we'd gone through, and when I told them what the photographer had said, it didn't make it any better. "This slavery thing really sucks!", one of my new buddies said. "Look, we have to get out of this somehow - we're marines, for fucks sake - proud, strong men, who can fight...."
"Yes, and we're locked up in here, half naked, with guards with prods, whips and guns, and with slave collars around our necks!", said another. "I don't think we can escape - well, at least not for now. Surely our best bet is to go along with it all until we're out of here and working on some farm or other - it has to be easier to escape then, as they can't possibly guard us all the time."
"Yes, but what if we're chained in another of those fucking coffles, naked? Are you going to get all the other slaves to run off with you? And how far do you think you're going to get?"
"Yes, but they aren't going to do that to us. Look, if they were, they'd have done it that first day. They're spending a lot of money and time to sell us off as some sort of 'specialists', and I bet they don't coffle specialists... For one thing, a whole string of highly-priced slaves is probably more than most owners can afford. No, I bet we'll be left mostly to ourselves, when they've given us a job... Then we can steal a little money, hide a stash of clothes and food, then make a break for it. Get over the border, rejoin the marines, and come and fight these bastards again..."
There was a lot of general agreement to this, and, I suppose, we all just let the prospect of breaking out drop, as the guards came to tell us to get off to the afternoon exercise then. If only we'd known how slaves are in fact controlled, even when they're "specialists", we might have hanged our minds and tried something whilst we were still more of a fighting force, together.
Dylan was still with us, and most of the guys had kind of accepted him as a "pet", being as he was so much younger than the rest of us. Now we'd seen more of the slavery system in action, we all accepted that he'd had no choice but to jerk us off and so on when he'd been ordered to, as those prods and whips on his tender young body would be even worse than they were for us, who were more used to physical pain after all our training and battlefield experience. I had a problem with him, though!
I've told you that he'd taken the bunk above mine in our "barracks", and the first night, just as I was about to fall asleep with exhaustion after all the hard exercise, above the noise of all the other guys jerking off around me I heard a faint slithering sound, and then Dylan was trying to get into my bunk beside me - it was hardly wide enough for me, and there was no way that I was going to let this happen.
"Get back up into your own bunk, Dylan", I whispered, not wanting to make a disturbance that the other guys would hear.
"Please, Steve... Let me in...."
"No!"
"Please, Steve... I'm afraid. I don't know what's going to happen to us, Steve... I'm worried, I can't sleep..."
"Dylan, you're just going to have to learn to - you're a man now, as we said."
"Steve, please... Just for a few minutes, Steve. I'm so worried, Steve, tell me it's going to be OK... Tell me my new owner won't abuse me, as the slave dealer did..."
Well, I couldn't tell him that, honestly, could I? It seemed highly likely to me that a young boy like him with a lean, athletic body might quite well be "abused" by his new owner, given the casual way most of the men we'd seen so far seemed to treat sex with other men.
Dylan was still trying to get in with me, and he carried on "Please, Steve....", and he sounded so pathetic, and I thought of what was probably going to happen to him and suddenly felt so sorry for him. This might be the last time he ever had a "proper" relationship with an older guy, someone who wasn't trying to fuck him. I kind of relented, and stopped trying to prevent him from crawling under my thin blanket - and that was all it took. I never said he could, never invited him in, just stopped for a moment trying to stop him! The next moment his body was pressed right against mine - as I said, there wasn't any room, really, in the bunk - and then it occurred to me that this was really all wrong. I'd stripped off the ridiculously skimpy tight shorts before getting into the bunk, and so, evidently, had he, as we were both totally naked.
He snuggled his body into mine as he had done before, and reached for my hand to pull my arm over his body and kind of hold him. I could feel his warm, slim but muscular butt pressing into my crotch, and for some reason I sprang a boner.
"Steve... Thanks... ", he whispered. "And you want some of the other, don't you?"
"What?"
"You know, Steve, like the last time. 'The other'. The thing guys do when they don't want to fuck you..."
As he said this he shuffled around, and wriggled and squirmed, still pressed closely to me, and managed to get my now rampantly erect dick in-between his thighs, as he had before.
"Oh, Steve... That feels so good... Your dick is so hot, so hard....", he whispered. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't seem to have much control in the matter as his wriggling turned into a gentle pumping action as he moved his ass in and out, massaging my dick between his tender thighs. My erection was now actually hurting, and I tried to pull right out but there was no room at all in the bunk - and then, of course, it happened - my dick just shot it's load, unable to stand the stimulation he had been giving it.
Dylan lay still then for a moment or two, then eased himself off my dick and turned around to face me. It was his arms around me now, pulling his body close to mine. "Steve, did you like that?" His mouth was close to my ear, and he whispered it so softly.
"Dylan, that was wrong. You're not allowed to do that to a guy...."
"Steve, you did like it, didn't you? So how could it be wrong? How can something I do that you like be wrong, Steve? Surely, if both guys want to do it and like it...."
I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to tell him that this stuff, that he must have learned from the dealer, was all wrong, that only fags did that stuff with other men. It would probably upset him and he was having a hard enough time as it was. He took my silence for agreement, though, as he whispered "I'm glad I pleased you, Steve. I really like you, and I want to do everything I can to please you...."
"Then get back into your own bunk..."
"No, Steve... Please don't send me away. I've done something to upset you, haven't I...."
I could hear his voice beginning to tremble, and just had to say "No, Dylan, of course you haven't...."
"Oh thank you, Steve, so I can stay. Thank you, thank you..."
Well, I was getting worried that some of the other guys might hear all this, so I decided to keep quiet from then on, and wake up early, before the others, to get Dylan back into his own bunk. But, as such simple plans always do, I fucked up - I was so tired from all the exercise, that I just didn't wake up! When the guards banged on the bars to get us all up the next morning, all the guys saw Dylan's naked body still curled up, pressed hard against mine.
As we stumbled around, dicks hard with our morning erections, there was a lot of ribald comments. "Hey, Steve, why are you hard, when you've got that bum boy there?" And "Steve, will you lend me your little toy boy tonight?" And "Dylan, don't waste your time with a hairy monster like Steve... Come to my bunk tonight and see what a real man could do for you..." You all know the kind of things guys say to each other, kind of joking, but with some underlying truth in it. I felt so fucking embarrassed, I can tell you - I mean, I was a marine, and they'd found me sleeping with some sixteen year old lad: and one of the guys even held my blanket up to show everyone the huge cum stain, so I couldn't deny that there had been sex.
When we were abroad some of the guys who got really horny used to fuck some of the local boys, I knew - there were always boys of about Dylan's age hanging around the camp, whether we were in South America, or the Gulf, or Thailand, or wherever. They were always happy to "relieve" a marine, for a few bucks, and as we were strictly forbidden to frequent the local brothels as the women were though to be either diseased, or agents for the rebels, or both, a lot of guys took up the offer just to give their dicks a bit of a change from their own hands. I'd always been one of the guys who had refused, and rather looked down on the others for using the kids like that, even though they all enjoyed it; and now here I was, with my new buddies thinking those things about me!
The next night Dylan didn't even attempt to get into his own bunk, but climbed straight in with me! I was going to throw him out, but another guy was passing who saw me start to do this, and came up and grabbed Dylan's arm. "Come with me, young Dylan", he said, in a tone of voice that said to me that he was right on the edge, ready for sex. "Come on, I'll show you a good time..."
I couldn't let that happen, could I? So I told him to fuck off, and put an arm protectively around Dylan's naked shoulder, and pulled the blanket up over us both. Dylan had got the idea, though, that I liked "the other" as he called it, and as soon as we lay there he started manoeuvring to get my dick between his thighs. I suppose in a way he was right - I "liked" it in the sense that my dick loved the special stimulation of his warm soft flesh of his thighs imprisoning it, with the occasional moistness of his asshole pressing down on it, and, as you'd expect, I shot again.
In the middle of the night I woke up, and at first it was odd to have another body pressed against mine, but somehow comforting. We'd turned over at some point, as Dylan had his body "spooned" into the back of me - I cold feel his breath on the base of my neck as he gently breathed in and out, and I assumed he was asleep at first. But then I realised why we had awakened - the young fucker was trying to manoeuvre his hard dick between my thighs! I was half sprawled out so it wasn't that difficult, and Dylan was slowly but surely nudging his dick up into the warmth and moistness at the top of my legs!
At first I just lay there, hardly able to believe what was happening. But then I turned over quickly, grabbed hold of his dick, and in as menacing a tone as I could manage, given that I didn't want to wake the other guys, snarled "What the fuck were you doing, Dylan...?"
"Please, Steve, it wasn't anything..."
"Yes it was! You were trying to get your dick into me!"
"No, Steve. Honest! I wasn't trying to fuck you. I only wanted a 'bit of the other'..."
"Dylan, you're a kid! You shouldn't be doing things like that with guys."
"Why not, Steve? You do it to me. It doesn't hurt or anything, and I like your dick up there - it makes me feel good. I only wanted you to feel the same way, Steve...."
I felt ashamed, I suppose. Sure, the kid had pulled at my dick and "persuaded" me to do "the other", but I ought to have known better. I was a lot older than him, and I ought to have realised that it wasn't right. Only when he'd put it to me like this, the other way around, did I see that I might be wrong.
"No, Dylan. You can't do it. I don't go with young lads like you."
"Steve, that's stupid! So it's OK for you to use me for 'the other', but not OK for me just to do the same to you? My dick needs exercise too, you know."
"Well be that as it may, you're not doing it with me."
I heard his voice faltering, and I thought he might be about to cry. "Steve, I thought you liked me. I thought you were different from the others, Steve...."
"What do you mean?"
"The dealer, his men... All they wanted to do was to fuck me. They didn't care about me at all, Steve. They just took me and used me, as soon as they'd bought me from my folks. No one was ever kind to me. It hurt, Steve, hurt a lot. And they just left me there, crying. No one was ever nice to me, Steve, not like you were. And you didn't fuck me Steve, just did 'the other', which is nice.... But now I see you're just the same, Steve. You just want to use me, you don't want to be real friends with me..."
"Yes I do, Dylan...."
"No you don't, Steve - you just want to shove your dick between my legs so you can get off, and when I just want to do the same to you, as I've got the same problem, you know - I'm horny too - probably more horny than you, as men are at their most potent at my age and you're going off - you stop me. No, Steve, you're just the same as that dealer and the other men - I'm just a sex toy for you. You don't care about me at all, Steve...."
"No, you're wrong, Dylan. I do care about you. What those men did was wrong....."
"And what you did to me was wrong, too, Steve. Guys should have sex together, not with one using the other just as a toy. "
I felt worse and worse now. There was something wrong here in the logic, but I couldn't quite see what it was. Of course he'd led me on, but then, I was a mature guy, and I ought to have had the sense to resist. But I hadn't - and even after the first time, I could still have stopped. But each time my dick slid between those young thighs, I'd enjoyed it more and more, and hadn't really even tried to resist him.
Dylan was almost snivelling now, and once again I thought of the raw deal he'd been cut - I mean, sold by your parents, then I guess raped by the dealer and his men. I at least had left home voluntarily, had had a good life in the marines, and was meant to be a tough guy - I was supposed to look after younger and weaker guys, and , my conscience told me, I had really been taking advantage of him.
"Look, Dylan, I'm sorry.... I won't do 'the other' again, right? "
"No, it's not all right, Steve. You owe me!"
This was getting ridiculous! Surely he didn't believe that he should be allowed to slide his dick between my thighs, just because he'd lured me into doing it to him - well, the first time, at least.
"Hey, Dylan, I've let you sleep with me...."
"Steve, when two guys share a bed, they expect to have sex. Surely you know that?"
I felt myself blushing a bit, as if I was embarrassed.
I didn't know that- or, rather, I'd never thought about it. I mean, in the marines you do sometimes bunk with another guy if space is short, but he's a fellow marine, and the same age, and you're usually in your combats. It hadn't occurred to me, I suppose, that allowing a much younger guy into my bed, when we were both totally naked, might mean something to him. How could I have been so fucking stupid? And what was I going to do now, as he evidently was upset, and had entirely the wrong idea about me? He'd have a tough time, and with the auction approaching, it was going to get worse, I suspected. I tried to put my arm around him to comfort him, pulling him close to me.
"No, Steve. Leave me alone... You don't want me touching you, I know that now..."
"Dylan, you've got me wrong..."
One of his legs went over me, so that his body was pressed along my side - I felt his dick stabbing my ribs - then the other joined it so that he was behind me again. I felt his hand on my butt, then at the top of my thighs, then he was wriggling his fingers, trying to open a space between them.
"Hey, cut that out..."
"You said you liked me, Steve. We were two guys together... Come on, Steve, show me you don't just think of me as a sex toy! I'm not going to fuck you, just have a bit of 'the other'."
I lay there, my brain spinning. I didn't want to do it, but then, I thought, it's harmless enough. After all, I had been covered with his cum already. Reluctantly, I raised one leg slightly, and heard Dylan give a faint giggle as his fingers slipped in, to be replaced a moment later by what could only be his dick.
He lay there, his body pressed close to my back for a moment, then I felt him start to slide backwards and forwards, in and out. I lowered my leg, thinking that I'd somehow trap him, make him stop, but I heard his breath sigh with pleasure. The feel of his dick between my thighs was like nothing else I'd ever experienced - soft and yet hard, warm. And somehow totally male. I cold feel him getting more and more excited, and his breath against my back was almost panting, when he gave a tiny cry, and that was it. I could feel his hot, slimy cum trickling down the inside of my thigh, and Dylan was now making little chuckling noises of happiness.
His leg came over my body again, followed by the rest of him, and he almost threw himself against me now, putting his arm around me and pushing his face close to mine. "Hey, Steve, we're real buddies now.... "
"Hey, Dylan, look, it isn't like that, you know. Two guys can be real buddies without having sex together..."
"Oh sure - but it's good, isn't it? I wondered why the dealer's guys wanted to use me, and now I know. That was the most fantastic thing I've ever done. Having a 'bit of the other' is much better than just jerking off, isn't it, Steve?"
Well, I had to agree that it was, actually. Then Dylan went on "So will you let me fuck you properly, Steve? Like the dealer did to me?"
"No, Dylan! Look, we're only here for a few more days, and then you've got to get used to the idea that we'll never see each other again. They'll sell me, and they'll sell you to someone different, and we'll end up hundreds of miles apart. You've got to learn, Dylan, that only two people who really love each other ought to fuck... And there's no time for that."
"That wasn't what the dealer said, Steve - he just fucked me, and fucked me hard. I cried, it was so painful. "
"Well I guess that when two people really love each other they're much more gentle, they take their time, they do it properly, respecting each other...." Oh shit, I thought as I heard myself saying all this. It sounds as if I'm trying to write a sex manual for kids! I didn't believe all this crap, really - firstly I didn't think guys should fuck each other, and secondly I didn't believe you needed to love someone before you fucked them - all those prostitutes and 'camp followers' I'd had around the globe would testify to that. But I wanted to make Dylan feel good, wanted him to be happy, for as long as he could be, and this seemed the best way."
Dylan seemed to be calmer now, and I could feel himself falling asleep in my arms. The next morning, though, I wasn't very pleased when as we got up, the guy in the next bunk, who might have heard some of this - no, probably did hear some of this - pointed at the dried cum that was sticking the wiry hairs to my skin on my thighs, and called out, so they could all hear, "Hey, guys, Steve's Dylan's bum boy now!"
If the guards hadn't been there, I'd have punched him out!
End Of Part 5