THE TABLES WERE TURNED
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
The Tables Were Turned, Part Five
I knew that the gag with its water feed would effectively silence me, so I tried to resist Tim as he went to fit it. He didn't "prod" me, though, merely reached down into the crate and took my balls in his strong hands. I got the message and opened my mouth, and he pushed in the hard rubber thing, then carefully attached the tube to the water bottle.
The last I saw of him was as he lowered the lid - he had to push my head forward and between my knees, to make me fit, and then, as he screwed the lid down, I knew my fate was sealed.
It was vilely uncomfortable - I had no room and my body was all scrunched up. I couldn't move because of all the straps and restraints, and soon waves of cramp went through me, waves I simply had to endure, as there was absolutely no way I could relieve them. I heard the truck approaching up the track, and then Tim and the driver joking about "another shipment", with Tim saying that his uncle had asked him to look after this one as he was away on business.
I knew what was going on - pushing and shoving the crate to get it onto the platform lowered from the truck, then the whine of the hydraulics as it was lifted up, then more pushing and shoving as the crate was moved inside the truck, and secured. We were leaving my home then, as the truck bounced down the track, and in the next hours I heard all the sounds of the "normal" world going on around me - the jokes and shouts of workmen and fork-lift truck drivers as my crate was shuffled abound some warehouse or other, and then someone from Customs and Excise giving it a perfunctory examination before signing the export documentation. I knew I was loaded onto a plane, and then it was pretty cold - they say these cargo planes are pressurised and heated, but only minimally, if you ask me.
Shivering and cramping, there was fuck all I could do except sit there and endure it. I sucked at my water - and remembered what I'd told all the lads about going sparingly on it as there was only a litre or so.
I pissed, and then had the unpleasant sensation of having my cock swilled occasionally with piss as the aircraft banked and the collecting bag allowed some of it to flow back onto me.
Once we landed I started to warm up - and was soon so hot that sweat was, literally, running off me. The roads were fucking awful, as I bounced around constantly on the journey, and then there was a whole lot of jabbering and shouting as the crate was unloaded - no mechanical stuff here! It got hotter and hotter, and I imagined the crate sitting out in the sun, and I'd long since drained the last of my water - I was pretty desperate as I was sweating like a pig and knew that soon that would stop, and then I would die of heat exhaustion. But at long last I heard the sounds of screwdrivers opening the top, and at long last I could uncurl my head and at least sit upright.
I was surrounded by guards - big, tough-looking blokes in khaki, some carrying rifles, and some carrying clubs not unlike the baseball bat Tim had hit me with - and they looked as if they knew how to use them, or, rather, they looked eager to use them.
I had to be lifted out of the crate once all the restraints had been undone, and then I collapsed onto the hot ground as I'd lost the use of most of my muscles from cramp. They let me lie there for a couple of minutes, but then began shouting at me - I couldn't understand a word, but the inference was clear: get up or we'll beat you.
They "escorted" me into one of the buildings, then along corridors - no one seemed to notice or even care that I was naked - and all the time the escorts were babbling away in some foreign language. Most of the guards with rifles disappeared then, but some big blokes with the clubs stayed behind and continued to look menacing. No one spoke English, but it was clear that I was to go and crouch over a hole and crap (I remembered how embarrassed I'd been when Tim had made me do this, but now I was surrounded by real tough blokes, and it was even worse). I was told to shower, and did then begin to feel better, but it seemed that this was only the first step in "grooming" me - I was made to lie on a steel table as they pushed an enema pipe up my ass and used one of those "colonic irrigation" machines to thoroughly clean me out. Then I had to sit in a sauna - a very hot, very humid sauna - for half an hour as dirt sweated out of my pores. Still naked, I was made to sit on a low three-legged stool as a barber trimmed my hair and shaved me - and then used a variety of small instruments to clear the hairs out of my ears, and my nostrils, and finally, to floss my teeth and scrape my tongue. The barber then indicated I should stand on the stool, so that my genitals were at a convenient height for him to be able to shave my balls totally smooth, and there was a lot of general snipping and trimming of my pubes generally, to reduce the length a bit.
It was pointless to protest, pointless to argue - they didn't seem to know English, or, if they did, they didn't care. And at the slightest sign of resistance from me the guards would advance threateningly.
It did feel good to be clean, though, and when I was made to lie on the table again, it became positively sensual as a young bloke wearing only some sort of tiny loin cloth that barely covered his tackle, came in and massaged oil into me, all over. And I no mean all over - he not only did my back and bum and thighs and calves, but slid his oily hands between my bum cheeks too. And when he did my front, my balls got special attention, and he even 'skinned me back so that he could oil my cock head!
I saw myself in a mirror then and I have to say I did look good - I'm basically a handsome bloke with a good body, as you know, but oiled like this, my skin positively glowed and I looked the specimen of perfect health. They gave me some clothes then - well, not as such exactly: it was a kind of tunic thing, like a long vest, that left my shoulders bare and which finished at mid-thigh, but at least my tackle and bum were decently covered now.
They led me along more corridors then, and the atmosphere seemed to change, with it getting more and more luxurious as we went, with fluorescent light being replaced by glass chandeliers, concrete floors by marble, and that sort of thing. I began to recognise where I was, I think - I'd been down some of these corridors before, on business.
Two big wooden doors were flung open and the guards pushed me into the middle of a vast audience room - and there, on the dais at the end, was one of my most important customers. I strode over towards him, conscious of my cock swinging underneath the small tunic, but nevertheless pleased to be safe now. "Highness!", I said, extending my hand "Good to see you again. Thank you for rescuing...."
"Silence!", he screamed. "Say one more word without being spoken to first, and I will have the guards beat you."
I looked, and the blokes with clubs were all tensed, ready for action. So I stood there, still and not moving.
"Good. I understand you have had some training, and of course you know of the way I treat my purchases as you have been here before when making deliveries. But this time you are the delivery, not the delivery man. So disrobe, as I wish to see exactly what I have acquired."
"Highness, please...."
"I said disrobe, boy."
My heart began to race, but I had no choice. I pulled the tunic thing over my head, and stood there in the centre of the marble floor, utterly bare. I heard an interested murmur come from some of the men lining the room.
He clapped his hands, and Tim came out from a door at the back, and joined him. A Tim now even more finely dressed - a really expensive-looking dark blue blazer, smart grey trousers, shiny shoes, a white silk shirt and a stunning tie: the perfect "English gentleman" look, in contrast to my customer who was, as usual, in full-length robes of the very finest white wool, richly embroidered in white with intricate designs along the edges.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!", I heard him say to Tim. "All the time I was dealing with this man I wondered what his body was really like. In his shirt and jeans he stirred a certain excitement, but I longed to see his bare buttocks, to know whether that hair that poked so excitingly from the top of his shirt extended to his belly, and to wonder whether his cock was truly as good as the bulge in his jeans might suggest. Time and time again he came here to receive payment for my latest purchase from him, and only the absolute duty of a host, as is laid down in our holy book, prevented me from having him stripped and displayed. Or even of having a concealed camera in his room. But when you contacted me I knew I could have my wish without breaking with my religion - it was an act of extraordinary good sense, young sir, to offer him to me first. And I salute your good business sense in sticking to the agreed price, even though those South American drug dealers tried to open a bidding war!"
He stopped then, and gazed at me for a few more moments, then ordered me to turn around so that my back was to him. I heard him say to Tim "Lovely shoulders - so broad. And that classic 'V' shape. And those buttocks - almost like an African's, the way they flare so sensuously. Did you use him after you captured him?"
"No, Highness. I had him wank for me, of course. But he never used me anally, so I didn't think to do so to him - and then, of course, I found your correspondence with him and know that you stipulate that the men you buy should be virgins. I can't guarantee that he is, of course, as he was in the British Army and I expect your own soldiers are not unused to taking pleasure in the barracks either.... But he always talks about women, so perhaps he has not experienced anal sex - although I believe he has certainly indulged in mutual masturbation with other men."
"Oh, that is of no consequence! Almost all men to that. And, to some extent, I even prefer a man who has gone a little further, and is not afraid of taking my cock into his throat. But I do prefer to be the first to use a man's rear entrance for my pleasure - it is so much more satisfactory to have a virgin as they are totally unprepared for the feeling of cock deep inside them, and they scream and writhe all the more excessively. The prophet has also written that a man always remembers he whose cock first enters him, and I like to think that I am also achieving this little piece of fame as I take my pleasure. Sadly, it does not work the other way around, as I can barely remember most of the young men who I have deflowered here - but I think the deep, muscled bum of Steve here may provide me with a memory that will last for some time..."
He called out something in Arabic, and two men at once wheeled into the centre of the floor what I suppose was the upmarket equivalent of my Workmate! It looked to be made in gold, and there were a multitude of wheels and levers on it to make adjustments.
"Lie of the leather pad", he commanded, looking straight at me.
"NO, highness, please... We were business partners... I brought you all those young men, to your specification.... You can't do this to me...."
He nodded his head, and four of the guards simply rushed me, and before I could resist properly, picked me up and forced me down on to the pad. I felt cuffs tightening around my wrists and ankles, and knew I was helpless. One of the men stood there then and made adjustments to the level and slope of the thing - my head was slightly down, and my bum sticking right up, and my feet were spread wide apart so I could feel my cock and balls swinging freely.
The Arab called out something and I saw the room emptying, then heard Tim's voice. "Shall I go too, Highness?"
"No, I think you deserve to see this - and you are familiar with him, perhaps you can even help."
I heard footsteps and the swish of robes as Tim and the Arab approached me, then gave a little involuntary gasp as the Arab's big hands grasped my bum. His fingers kind of kneaded my muscles, and he remarked "These are splendid! So firm. So strong. And so deep - concealing his private place so well. I usually prefer the slimmer buttocks of a younger man not yet properly mature, but, as I said, this man has aroused me ever since I first saw him. And I am not disappointed - as I said, he was enticing in jeans, but naked he is one of those men who reminds me why the prophet has given us the power to appreciate the male body. "
His fingers continued to knead and probe, and then I could feel him pulling my buttocks apart. "Please be so good as to assist me, young sir", I heard him say to Tim. "Hold these delicious globes of flesh apart - I have seen his secret place, and must examine it."
The next moment I whimpered in surprise, or pain, or delight, or something, as his finger nail raked down along the bottom of my ass crack and came to rest on my sphincter. I could hear the excitement in his voice as he told Tim "See - he reacts. He is not used to a man's touch here. And yet his hole does not open to welcome my finger: I am getting more and more excited, as I do believe he is indeed a virgin. And the prophet has said that the reward for the righteous here on earth is a virgin - I think I am being rewarded today for my good works and wise rule."
I heard a slithering sound as he dropped his robe to the floor. He came and stood in front of me in a thin cotton shift open all down the front, and his cock was erect and jutting out through the fabric - a big, long, fat cock, not unlike my own. "This is to be the cock that will first enter you, boy - you have never experienced the delight of a man using your hole before, have you?"
"You're fucking right! I'm no pervert.... No one's fucked me....."
He turned to Tim and said "You told me he was not fully trained, and I can see that now. He will need to be punished later for such an outburst." He stood beside me, his cock rubbing up and down my ribs as I lay there, and bent over me, asking Tim to again pull my buttocks apart. I felt his finger resting on my hole again, and then wriggling and squirming to try to break in. I tried to clench my bum, I did all those things you do to try to stop shitting when there's no lavatory in the vicinity. But the relentless pressure of his finger made me gasp.
"Young sir, he is so extremely tight, that I think I shall abandon my first plan, to take him 'dry' - such a tight sphincter might chafe my cock unpleasantly. So I will lubricate him, but I prefer to use only natural ingredients, not like you Westerners who buy potions and creams to do it.... Would you be so good as to milk him for me, please, so that I can use his natural juice to ease his passage - and thus my passage!"
He paused, then went on "...see... I have such mastery of English that I can even use 'passage' in two senses at the same time! Your English school system is so excellent. I did enjoy my time there, and at Cambridge."
"Which college, Highness?"
"You are familiar with Cambridge, young sir?"
"I was supposed to be going there in September, until Steve... This man.... Captured me. I suppose I'd be the man lying there now in front of you, if I hadn't outwitted him...."
The Arab roared with laughter. "Of course! A man who was qualified for Cambridge would always outwit a rough soldier like this one. And whereas there are many men who can function here for my pleasure, the world needs clever people to drive business, do research.... You must, of course, take up your place...."
"Yes, Highness.", Tim answered. "I'll think about it.
But I quite like the idea of taking time out, thinking, travelling, finding my own self, making plans, discovering something I could be really good at.... And now I have the money - the money I took from this man that he had accumulated from his activities, I can do so."
It was utterly surreal, these two talking about universities and crap like that when I was tied down here naked, about to be fucked by one of them. "If you're going to fuck me, cut the crap and get it over with!", I shouted in frustration and anger.
I wish I hadn't, a moment later, as the Arab's big hands slapped my bum four times, very hard, causing me to yelp as each blow hit. He walked around behind me then and I could feel his cock pressing into my bum as his hand slid up between my thighs and grabbed my balls as they hung there, defenceless. "One more word, boy, and next time it will be these that get slapped", he hissed. "Have you ever had a mans' hand strike your orbs as they swing there between your thighs?"
"Sir, no, sir" - I decided to play safe, and give a proper response! You don't argue with a bloke who's got your balls in his hand.
"Young sir the delight of being in such close proximity to such a desirable piece of male flesh is so great that I fear I may not be able to contain myself", the Arab continued. "Could you assist, by kneeling here and milking him for me?"
"Of course, Highness", I heard Tim reply, and the next moment I felt his clothes brush against my bare skin as he crouched down, and then his long fingers probed up between my thighs to take hold of my cock. I shuddered with that particular delight as he skinned me back and raked his thumbnail over my piss slit, and then he began to slide my 'skin slowly and sensuously over my cock head. I couldn't help it, and moaned with the pleasure. Even when you're tied up and utterly humiliated, if someone is really using your cock properly, you can't help it.
"Come on, Steve.... Shoot....", he muttered. "You're so proud of your fucking cock, it ought to be easy...." And it was - somehow, being utterly helpless like that and having a young bloke forcibly masturbate me was a huge turn on. Within seconds I was gasping "Yes, yes, yes... Oh....." as I shot, and then I felt Tim getting to his feet.
"Highness.... As usual, he has produced a large quantity of very thick cum...."
"Truly he is a delightful piece of male flesh, and everything I see of him enhances it."
I cried out then, though, as his finger, now slimed with my cum, forced its way up into me. And then carried on moaning and whimpering as another finger, and then three, forced my sphincter apart. And of course, with three up there, he was able to spread them and stretch me even more.
He came around to the front again then, his cock still jutting rampantly through the front of his shift, and I could see the thick curls of black hair over his body as he stood there. "You are ready to receive me now, boy. Look once more at what will soon be buried deep inside you, at what will be demonstrating that I am more powerful than you, and that I control you utterly...."
He looked at Tim and said quietly "Please... The lubrication...."
As I watched, Tim knelt by the man and almost reverentially used his cum-covered hand to stroke the cock, smearing my remaining cum all over it. The Arab was of course circumcised, and as Tim's ministrations brushed against the thick flange at the base of his cock head, he gave a tiny, almost inaudible moan of pleasure.
He waved Tim away then and came and stood very close to me. His cock was right in front of my face, and I could smell my cum covering it, and see it shining and glistening in the lights. "This is the cock that will possess you, boy. This cock will take your virginity, and be the first one to use you in the way that a man like you should be used. Look at it, and marvel."
I wanted to say something, but what was the point? I heard his footsteps moving to the back of me, felt his hands once more pulling my bum apart. Then there was that strange felling of warmth, moist warmth, as a cock first touches your sphincter. He rested for a moment, then pushed. I resisted and he pushed harder.
I began to get uncomfortable, and now he was pushing very hard indeed - and he broke through. I screamed, as the pain shot through me.
"See, boy", I heard him say. "The cock is mightier than the arse hole of a man like you! A cock can always force entry. Now...."
He slid more into me - easy for him, but painful for me, and I gasped with it, and clenched my fists in an effort to stop crying out. I knew all my back muscles would be tightened and standing out, and, indeed, his hand was soon in the middle of my shoulder blades, feeling the muscles, as he pushed further in to me and whispered "Easy, boy, take your master's cock, and take it deep.... I like to feel you struggle..... As it shows us both who's the stronger, who's in charge."
I did cry and scream and shout, of course. Once he was buried fully into me and I could feel his wiry pubic hair against my bum, he started to pull out, and then push in again. It hurt - well, I suppose its that very special pain you get there, mixed with that very special pleasure. But I knew I was violated, I knew I was now changed: a man's cock was deep inside me, controlling me, and I didn't much like it.
How long did it take before he finally gave a great cry, one last final thrust deep in to me, and collapsed forward onto my back (I could feel his sweaty, hairy belly and chest all along me)? I don't know. Time seemed to lose meaning. I knew he varied things tremendously, sometimes doing long, hard strokes to cause me to cry out, and sometimes little short ones that made me moan with a perverse kind of pleasure. But finally he was done, and, sweating and panting slightly, he stood by my face once more, his cock detumescing rapidly.
"You're mine now, boy. Really mine now. I paid to have you brought here, so I suppose I owned you - but now I truly own you: you have lost your virginity to my cock, and you will always know that I am your master."
He looked at Tim then, and went on "After all he did to you, you should show him that you are superior to him in every way. Of course you outwitted him, but a man like this understands only one thing - physical domination. You should use him now to show him that, like me, you are a master and he is a mere boy, here for our amusement and pleasure."
I saw Tim nod, and he slipped his blazer off and let it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. His shirt and tie followed, then he slipped off his loafers to allow his trousers to fall. Stepping out of them he stood there in very thin white briefs - he seemed to have abandoned the boxers he wore when I'd first seen him as a skater! As the Arab and I both watched, he slipped those down, allowing his cock to spring upwards as if it was glad to be out of their confinement.
The Arab went up to him and put one of his big hands on Tim's naked shoulder, holding him at arms length and raking Tim's body with his eyes. "Truly this boy had the power to pick men", he told Tim. "Had he brought you to me, I would have been delighted."
"Thank you, Highness." Tim took the Arab's hand from his shoulder, then, almost spontaneously, moved closer to the man and put his hands on the Arab's shoulders - he slowly pulled the man to him, and I could see Tim's cock touching the Arab's, and then moving upwards as they moved closer together. "Thank you. And thank you for offering me the use of this boy, who is indeed prime stock, as you say. After I have seen your magnificent performance a moment ago I only hope that I can be half as good. Truly, as you told the boy, your cock utterly conquered him, and I cannot hope to emulate that."
The Arab chuckled. "You are a diplomat, as well as a businessman and vanquisher of the less intelligent, I see! Now, though, go to it - we shall feast tonight, you and I, and afterwards might explore our interest in our bodies a little further...."
Tim's cock was thinner than the Arab's monster, so I should have been able to take him without all that much pain. But Something inside me snapped. As he slid it into me, I began to shout "No, you young fucker! Tim, stop it! Please! No....", and then I began to scream all the vile names I could think of at him - it wasn't right, a young bloke like him, who I'd "trained" doing this to me. And Tim was like a wild animal, too - he didn't just stand there and fuck me as the Arab had, but was almost climbing up onto my back, leaving only one foot on the ground: as if in a frenzy he wanted to get every last millimetre of his cock in to me. His hands scrabbled at my shoulders to get a better purchase, and it was as if he was raging and totally passionate about what he was doing.
When it was over, he went and stood by the Arab, smiling slightly. The Arab looked astonished, and I heard him say "Such passion! Truly you are a stallion amongst men! You must promise to treat me more gently should we decide to explore each other later.... But first, the boy must be punished. He knows that such language is not permissible, and his attitude to a master must be corrected."
He called out something in Arabic then, and a servant came in. I couldn't see exactly what they were doing until the first cane stroke hit my bare bum - and then, as the blows rained down and they all melded into one sheet of blinding, almost unbearable pain, I knew I was screaming and raving, but no longer had any intelligible words: it was just the ranting of a wounded animal, an animal who could not defend himself, who could do nothing except take the punishment that these two men were handing out, and whose cries were cries of total despair.
Both men stood in front of me again then, holding their canes (which I couldn't help noticing were now tinged with blood - my blood.). Both were erect once more, and were sweating from their exertions. The Arab looked amused, but there was a look of triumph in Tim's eyes, as he said quietly "The cane hurts, doesn't it, Steve? You showed me that, rather early on."
The Arab called out again and more servants came in - they had soft towels, and cleaned their master's cock, and Tim's, before helping the Arab back into his sumptuous gown, and holding out an equally fine robe for Tim to slip on - his clothes were cleared away, I noticed.
As they were turning to leave, the Arab said to Tim "Now I have used him, he is of little further interest as my tastes are generally more to younger men, like you. I would be pleased to give him back to you as a gift.... I will of course pay you for him, as we had an agreement, but you may take him home with you."
My heart began to pace with hope - at least back in England I had some chance of freedom. Here in Arabia I knew there was none, as foreigners stood out like a sore thumb, and all the police, army and other services were totally under the control of his Highness.
"Highness, your generosity is overwhelming. And I hope I can find some way of repaying you later this evening, after we have feasted - or perhaps whilst we are feasting, if we dine alone.... But I cannot take him back with me."
I listened to this chance of freedom slipping away, with horror. "No, please, Tim, please, get me out of here...."
"See", Tim said to the Arab, "He is not properly trained. And I lack the facilities in England - I thought I had broken him, but clearly he was masquerading. If I take him back to England he would do something foolish, and although he would end up spending the rest of his life in jail, I expect his money - which I now have - would be confiscated or something...."
"No, please, I won't... I swear...."
Tim picked up the cane where the servants had left it, and came over and struck me four more times, causing me to howl with misery as later strokes really do hurt more.
"Shut the fuck up, boy!", he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to punish a man like this. "Shut the fuck up, or else I will ask your owner to have you gagged."
"....or perhaps permanently muted?", the Arab cut in. "We have the vocal chords of many servants here in the palace snipped through, as it stops them making idle chatter about their betters."
"Highness, you can see that he is incorrigible. I cannot accept your gift and take him back...."
"Come, young sir.... Let's get started on the feasting, and the 'entertainment' promised for afterwards: we have ways of permanently 'breaking' even strong-willed boys like that one here... Think no more of it - when you next visit, as I hope we will develop a permanent friendship, I think you will find your boy is properly obedient and subservient, and you might then want to take him back with you: good servants are impossible to find in England, as I know from my years there, and one trained as he will be will be almost beyond price."
They left me there then, and I could feel their semen trickling down the inside of my thighs as I lay there - or was it blood from my utterly terrible caning? Or perhaps both. But not for long- the doors opened, the guards with their clubs came in and I was released, and marched off back down into the grim depths of the place where I'd started my journey earlier that day.
End Of Part Five