Tables Were Turned

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 Seven

I don't know how long I was kept toiling in the fields, chained to my fellows in the coffle. There was no way of registering the passage of time, as every day was exactly like another and the climate was almost unchanging. We went through cycles of digging, planting, hoeing and picking, but there was no real pattern to it - one day we'd be digging, but another day picking a crop: under the hot sun, providing there was irrigation, the crops seemed to grow continuously. I had no calendar, and even the normal way that traditionally prisoners are supposed to register the passing of time - making "tally marks" on the walls - was denied to me as our coffle was not always put into the same pen every night.

If anyone had asked me if I could have been fitter or stronger when I was living a normal life I'd have laughed. I ate well, exercised a lot, and thought of myself as in really good shape. But after working in the coffle, I knew that it had all been an illusion: with the unvarying diet of vegetable stuff I was now much "leaner" and with the constant toil my muscles were now all "stringy", and every one of them was used and honed. I'd gone from having the body of a man who looks after himself "artificially" to having one of a true worker, an animal who does nothing from morning to night except use his muscle power in the service of his owner. And it was continuous, too - we could never stop, or else the cane or tawse of the overseer would fall on out naked bodies; and this constant working had enhanced my heart and lungs so that even though I was dog tired and exhausted all the time, I could continue to work without ceasing until I was allowed to stop.

Given that I was strong to begin with, it was only the combined force of the boss man and his henchmen that had been able to overpower me so they could use me for sex. Once the novelty of fucking a white guy had worn off they mostly left me alone, though (indeed, they preferred to sit and laugh as the young water boy used me, as I have told you). Of course I couldn't refuse the young lad as otherwise he had his method of "bringing me to heel" by denying me water the next day. But I had my own urges, of course, as I was still young and was now leading this healthy life - untroubled by thoughts of "the world" or of needing to make decisions or anything like that, my brain was free to focus on the only thing still available to give me pleasure - sex! I soon gave up solitary wanking and entered the "hierarchy" amongst us of who could fuck whom. My natural strength and my general like of being in control soon taught me that taking one of the other servants, either in the mouth or arse, was so much more satisfactory that wanking. And, of course, as in any collection of men, those who like me enjoy "topping" were in relatively short supply so I never lacked an almost endless succession of willing, eager blokes willing to kiss and caress my cock, or to lie there as I entered them and fucked them properly.

I suppose I'd really given up all hope of escape (impossible, chained in the coffle), and was making the most of my life as an animal whose only purpose now was to work and to fuck. I'd forgotten that I had been a civilised man, with a house ,car, bike, clothes and all that stuff, and now I "knew" that I was just an animal, nothing more than a human machine whose only function was to toil away, day after day, in the service of my owner.

It all changed though when one day, as I was being unchained from the coffle and pushed into the pen for the night one of the guards came over and instead marched me off. They took me to the "dip" place where we were disinfected and shaved once a week, and it was kind of eerie to go through that all by myself - I realised I'd never truly been alone (well, apart from the watching guards) since I'd been here. They led me outside then and I watched as a truck arrived with a cage on its back carrying its human cargo of new servants, just as I had been all those months before. But then the guards herded me into the now-empty travelling cage, and once more locked the gate of it.

The straw on he base of the cage was damp from the piss of the human cargo who had just arrived, but I really no longer cared - I was almost used to that from where we were penned every night. And it was almost a luxury to spend the journey away from the farm complex all by myself, with no other blokes' bodies pressing against mine. I was so used to being totally naked now that when we reached the town I did not feel even the slightest twinge of embarrassment as I crouched there watching the faces of the crowd as they looked at me as we edged our way through the narrow streets and market places. I recognised the palace as soon as we got close - and remembered how many times before I had driven in through the huge gates in his Highness's limousine that had collected me from the airport (a limousine that had held one of my captives securely bound in the trunk).

Inside the handlers - yes ,that is what they were, as they were completely used to dealing with the new "imports" - rapidly took me through a process of showering, and then cleaning my insides out thoroughly with a series of enemas. I was so used to being fucked now that taking the metal nozzle of the enema pipe up my arse was no real problem, and I was totally unembarrassed by being there naked in front of the men; and, indeed, the times when I had been forced to crap in the fields, or in the barn overnight with all the others watching, had long since rid me of any feeling of shame about my own excrement. But as they worked away I couldn't help wondering what it would have been like for a bloke like Tim to have been here experiencing this: although by then he would have been used to being naked in the cage in my basement in front of me, this whole new environment and all the "handlers" working on him would have been utterly devastating to him.

Once I had been showered again and scrubbed all over with a brush by one of the handlers who seemed pleased to be able to strip off and get close to me under the streams of water (well I noticed them arguing about whose turn it was!), they took me to a hamman, or steam bath, and locked me in. I sat there sweating away, trying to remain calm and breathe steadily in the turgid atmosphere, and when I had had enough I tried to leave - but it didn't matter: however much I pounded on the door and shouted, they clearly had a scheduled time for me to remain in there, and that was it! Still, afterwards, I was clean - it felt absolutely wonderful after all those months of having my skin caked with dirt to be really deeply and truly clean once more. I ran my hands almost in wonder over my muscles, feeling the smoothness of my skin and almost marvelling at how dirty and grime-encrusted I had been. They took huge pains to shave me, too, going over my entire body three times with their soap and razors, so that there was absolutely no trace of hair on me.

I couldn't believe it when they gave me clothes! Well, not clothes exactly, but a short white cotton tunic that left my shoulders bare and finished half way down my thighs so that my cock and bum were covered. I hoped they might feed me as I'd missed the normal feeding time at the farm complex and my stomach was rumbling with hunger, so used had it become to the regular pattern of my life, but when I asked one of the handlers for something, I got a mild slap on the face and was commanded to remain silent unless spoken to.

I was led through the place as I had been on my last visit and into the vast audience chamber. The handlers told me that I must now lie in the "obeisance" position until commanded otherwise by his Highness, and they instructed me on how to kneel there on the cold marble floor, my body right forward so that my forehead touched the ground and my arms were straight out in front of me on the ground to. It's actually pretty uncomfortable, as normally you only do it for a few seconds, but I was told to lie like that whilst his Highness and his guest finished dinner, and I was acutely conscious that the tunic had fallen forward so that my bum was now exposed to all the guards and general "hangers on" who were lining the vast room.

My muscles were cramping and my knees and toes were sending messages of pain to me as I knelt there, but I did not dare move as I had been told that if I did, I would be taken out and beaten. So I had to suffer, and to make things worse, I could not even see what else was going on as my face was directly downwards as my forehead had to remain in contact with the floor. Finally, though, I heard a lot of commotion and guessed that his Highness had entered the room, and shortly afterwards his voice rang out "On your feet, Steve!".

I've never been so glad in my life to be allowed to move again, and I scrambled to my feet, tugged at the hem of my tunic to make myself as respectable as possible, and stood there. Standing next to the man who had been my best customer was Tim - but a changed Tim, someone who now looked like a properly mature man, rather than someone in the last stages of his teenage years - it wasn't so much his body (although that seemed to have filled out and matured a bit, as far as I could see), but his whole attitude: he stood there calm and confident looking, the understated elegance of his expensive clothes all underlining the fact that he was a friend and confidante of his Highness.

"He looks good, doesn't he?" His Highness remarked, and I saw Tim nod in agreement.

"But let's see all of him", he went on, and his voice changed instantly to "command mode" as he snapped at me "Unclothe!".

The tunic had obviously been designed for quick removal as it was very loose around the neck, and I only needed to reach up and pull it over me head in one smooth fluid movement - even so I felt my cock jerk upwards as my stomach muscles tightened with the action, and I somehow felt that the eyes of all the men in the room were looking at me as stood there totally and utterly bare. Even those of you who are used to stripping off in front of other men should try to imagine how I felt now - I was the only one naked, and it wasn't at all like the communal changing rooms at a gym or sports club, or even an army barracks with all the blokes living together. No, here were twenty or thirty clothed men all feasting their eyes on me - and I wasn't just naked from removing the tiny tunic: you should remember that there wasn't a scrap of hair anywhere on me, so every plane of my body was revealed to their gaze. Only the big "S" on my bum and his Highness's mark on my chest detracted from the acres of bare skin I was revealing to them. I felt utterly wretched and miserable, the more so as I remembered that I'd been 'skinned, and so even my cock head was exposed to them. Still, after all, a few moments before they'd all been gazing at my arse, and I ought to have been used to it all by now after months of utterly naked toil. But somehow this was all different - out at the farm complex I'd just been one naked guy amongst many, and here I was the only one, surrounded by all these men in their mixture of traditional Arab robes and expensive western suits.

His Highness and Tim came across the floor towards me, and I saw Tim "ask" his Highness something by raising an eyebrow, and his Highness nodding in agreement. Tim then came and put his hands on my shoulders, and ran them down over my body, his fingers lingering on my brand, then both hands gliding down the sides of my ribs.

"So, Steve, even a man like you who was always going on about his body can be improved". Tim's tone was calm and even. "I see you're now very lean, and your waist is much better defined.... And I like he way we can see your ribs properly. I think you were perhaps running just a little towards having a small layer of fat there.... And now you're superb!".

I stood there, and, strangely, felt myself starting to blush at the thought of being "inspected" and commented on like that.

Tim went around behind me and once more I felt his hands, now running all over my powerful shoulders, then down to cup my bum. His thumbs went into my crack so he could squeeze my bum firmly with each hand, muttering "So solid, so strong.....", before the hands danced down, almost caressing my long, lean thighs.

I stood there as Tim said to his Highness "You were right, sir! When you told me over dinner about the way Steve would have 'improved' I doubted you as I thought he was pretty good when I left him here. But now....."

The Arab laughed. "Well we do have some experience in these matters - he's not the first, and I doubt he'll be the last! But the biggest change is not in him physically - although I agree with you that he is much better even than he was before - but in his whole attitude. You'll find him totally compliant and obedient now."

I saw Tim nodding, and the Arab went on "Do you remember last time? He had to be tied down on to the horse before we could avail ourselves of the delights of his body? Well, perhaps a little demonstration will show you....."

He clapped his hands and barked out orders, and the room cleared of the watching men, as servants once more positioned the golden "horse" on which I'd been raped into the centre of the room. I watched as once more his Highness dropped his outer robes so that he stood there with his huge cock tenting out the front of his thin cotton under garment. Mentally I shuddered as I remembered the agony I had suffered as his cock had battered my arse - but even worse, the terror, anger and shame I'd experienced as he'd raped me and taken my virginity. Now though, when he commanded me to lie once more on the horse, it didn't matter - I was completely used to being used by the boss man and his henchmen, and knew that my arse was there for the pleasure of other men.

The cool leather of the horse felt almost calming to me as I positioned myself with my head turned to one side, and rested it on my folded arms. I spread my legs and positioned my feet to be comfortable, and heard his Highness tell Tim "See - last time the guards had to hold him down as they fastened the wrist and ankle cuffs, but now he understands that he is here to serve us, and accepts it willingly."

I heard the rustle of the Arab's shift fall to the floor, and then his strong fingers prising my bum apart. I didn't care. It no longer mattered. And as the hot tip of his cock pressed at my arsehole, I almost welcomed it into me - the sooner this man had used me, the sooner I would be out of here, and might even get fed.

It wasn't an epic fucking, as the boss man had given me so many times, but his Highness's thrusts were hard and vigorous as he cared only for his own satisfaction and was not at all concerned with me. I took them well, though, lying there knowing that there was a natural limit to the pain and discomfort I was feeling as even the hardest fuck sooner or later ends in an orgasm. And when he was done and I was left lying there as I saw him pull his robes back on, I really no longer felt anything: all the anger, all the rage, all the shame, all the humiliation, had long since been worked out of me and I now understood that I was just a piece of flesh whose only purpose was to serve my owner.

His Highness was of course an excellent host, and he therefore at once offered me to Tim, and I'm sure I saw a note of triumph in Tim's face as he approached me, pulling down the zip on his trousers as he did so, and said curtly "On your back, boy!"

I didd as he commanded, and realised that Tim was going to fuck me so that he could watch me: in turn he picked up each of my feet and pressed them back towards my head, commanding me to grasp my ankles. I lay there looking down the length of my body, knowing that my arse was totally exposed and open to him, and saw that my cock was flopped forward, not even vaguely erect, lying there on my belly.

I don't suppose it was being ashamed of his body that stopped him from undressing - after all, he had done so on the previous occasion. No, I think it was to emphasise to me that I was nothing more than a mere naked servant, whereas he was a master. His cock jutted through his fly and he came forward and rested his hands on the back of my thighs, pushing them down and forward even further. He had the glimmer of a smile on his face as he reached down to 'skin himself back, and then, in one savage thrust, he was in me, buried as deep as he could go. I could feel the wool of his trousers scratching at the sensitive area between my spread-eagled thighs, as he began an unmerciless pounding of me: deep and hard and fast. Soon he was panting wit the exertion and drops of sweat were flying off him on to me, and I could hear, faintly, my own body making grunts of effort in synchronisation with him as he worked away. I had to endure it, but I was somehow detached, knowing that he was in total charge and that I simply had to lie there and experience it to the end.

When he did cum finally, his back arching as he strained to get the last millimetre of his cock buried in me, there was a smile on his face. Then, still buried in me, he leaned forward so he was close to my face. "So, Steve - how many men like me did you leave here to be fucked like this? Now you know what it feels like".

He and his Highness went off then, and the "handlers" came back to take me away to the depths of the palace where I was caged in a cell which at one time I'd have felt was small, but which now felt like luxury accommodation. And they even pushed a bowl of some sort of food into me, which I devoured hungrily. I lay there, their cum still gently trickling out of me, but somehow I didn't care - they'd used my body, but their usage was no worse than the way I'd become accustomed to being a mere animal, working and toiling away in the fields, I suppose. In both cases I had no choice, no freedom to act - so why was taking my owner's cock any different from slaving and toiling away for him?

The next morning I was again cleaned both inside and out and shaved again, given one of the tunics, and led once more through the palace. His Highness and Tim were breakfasting when I was led into the room - the smell of coffee was heavy in the air and I couldn't stop my mouth watering as it wafted towards me - I had, after all, only drunk water since I'd been brought here. There were piles of big, buttery croissants, lavish platters of fresh fruit, and silver chafing dishes with little lights under them filled with sausages and tomatoes and eggs, and the two men were evidently just finishing. I looked longingly at the food, but knew I would be offered none even though there was an excess available.

At a gesture from his Highness I shrugged my tunic to the floor then stood with my head bowed and my hands clasped behind my back.

"See, Tim - total obedience. He has been properly 'broken' now, and is tame and docile, anxious only to satisfy and please his owner in every way possible."

"What are you going to do with him now, sir? Return him to your farm?"

"No, Tim. I intend to give him as a gift, to you! You have given me much amusement by overcoming this man and bringing him here, and now that he is broken he is no longer of any interest to me as I prefer to take men against their will. Fucking him last night was really only like masturbation - I like my men to scream and shout and buck and resist.... This one is, as I said, 'broken'. Of course I could return him to the pool of servants on the farm complex, to live out his life in my service, but it seems a waste - he has such a perfect body, and as a white man is relatively rare. I'd like to present him to you as a token of my continuing regard and friendship."

"But what could I do with him, Highness?"

"Take him back to England with you - surely a young man like you needs a servant? He can be trained to look after your clothes, your house, chauffeur you around... And, of course, to give you satisfaction when you have not lured another man into your bedchamber...."

"He's broken enough to make that possible?"

"Oh yes, believe me! But haven't you got that DVD you made of his previous exploits, that you can always show to the British police if he causes trouble? I suspect he would prefer to work for you as a servant rather than spend the rest of his life in one of your British jails. And I can offer you something else, too.... The ultimate 'calming' of servants where their 'breaking' fails....."

"What's that, sir?"

His Highness imperiously beckoned for me to move closer to the two men, and then reached out and took my cock in his hand. His thumb teased the flange of my cock head, causing me to start to stiffen, and he said quietly "Observe, Tim - the head of a man's cock is the most sensitive part. He has already lost some sensation when we had him 'skinned - men like you always tell me that you enjoy your foreskins, but of course the Prophet dictates that all servants must lose them. However we can take it one stage further: imagine a cigar cutter, to take the ends off a fat cigar. Now imagine Steve's cock here inside it, and squeezing it shut... So that his cock head falls neatly to the floor like the discarded tip of a cigar.

Once he had been cauterised to stop the bleeding, he would still be able to function as a male, but he would have no pleasure, no excitement, no stimulation.... If you want to breed from him his shortened cock could still be inserted into some woman and he could fertilise her. But as a man, his life would be over: no pleasure from his sexual organ, and other men, seeing him, would know this and would see him as a pathetic, unmanly creature."

I saw Tim nodding, his eyes shining, and felt a chill go through me as I wondered if he'd ask for that to be done to me.

"Of course", his Highness continued, "If you do not want to breed him, there's a slightly more radical procedure. At one time men who could not be 'broken' were castrated, and we could still have that done to him if you wanted. But it has undesirable side effects as he will start to gain weight and lose that hard, sharp edge of manliness in his musculature that we all so admire. So nowadays we leave the balls, but remove his cock - totally: instead of taking the head off, we take off the whole cock, leaving perhaps a half-inch stub. His balls are still intact so his male hormones keep his body in proper shape, but he is totally unable to ejaculate in the normal way. Every man will see that his is no longer a man, without a cock. He can still urinate, but will have to sit, like a woman! "

"But, sir, if he's in England....."

"Do you not believe, Tim, that my power extends there?

We have a large staff of guards and others at our embassy in London.... And they can hunt him down. Removing the cock is a simple operation - in the cellars of the embassy we can soon have him strapped to a horse ,and then you can even do it to him yourself if you are so minded."

With a wave of his hand his Highness dismissed me then and the handlers took me back down to my "cage" in the cellars. Later that morning as I lay there on the straw I heard a rattling of keys, and Tim was there at the bars. "I understand that it's customary for servants to get to their feet when their owner comes in", he said quietly, and I scrambled to my feet.

"So, Steve.... Do you want to go back to England?"

"Sir, yes, please ,sir."

"Well things would be very different, you know... I'd expect absolute obedience. You will work as my servant, and have no life of your own."

"Sir, please, sir.... Yes."

"Bu perhaps you'd be better off left here, working on this Highness's farm, living a good, healthy life.... I can use you on my visits.... I've been asked to work as one of his advisors, you know..... With that money of yours I invested in the markets, and got the hang of it - I was telling him how I've become quite an expert, and when he learned how I've increased that little pile of yours, he has asked me to consult and advise him.... So I expect I'll be here two or three times a year....."

"Sir, please, no, sir... Please take me back. I'll work for you...."

"No, Steve. You won't work for me, in the conventional sense. You will not be paid - and you are a pauper, remember? I have your money, your house... Everything. And you will remain utterly dependent on me for housing, food, clothes.... Everything."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"And if there's the slightest hint of disobedience to my authority, or of any attempt to run away... Well, there's always the DVD to go to the police, isn't there? And those cellars at his Highness's embassy don't sound such a nice place... I wonder how it would feel to have a cock without a cock head, Steve? Or even just to have a little tiny stub nestling on top of your balls? So you understand what I will be expecting? Total and utter subservience and obedience."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"I'll think about it, then!"

With that Tim turned and left, and I spent the rest of the day lying there wondering whether I'd ever see England again, or would spend the rest of my life in this place as a naked servant. But as I lay there, I couldn't rationalise why I cared really: a servant to his Highness was hard work but on the other hand I had no responsibilities, and endless sex. What would Tim be like as a master? After he fucked me yesterday he had gone on again about how I was now experiencing what all the other lads I'd captured had been experiencing - would he continue to take it out on me for the rest of my life? I basically fretted away at these things, until I realised I was being stupid as it didn't matter: what would be, would be. Que sera, sera. I had no choice in the matter, no freedom of action. It was Tim who would decide, and no one would even ask for my opinion. I was there only to obey.

The next morning they gave me clothes! Proper clothes. Jeans, and a T, and socks, and boots! I felt so odd, having my skin covered. I itched and scratched, and it felt so uncomfortable at first. And as the fabric of the jeans teased my cock, I was almost constantly erect. Then they led me out to the car, and I was got in and sat there - until Tim came out, said his farewells to his Highness, and joined me.

"I've decided to take you back, Steve", he said curtly. "But remember - total obedience. I have your passport still.... Here....."

I took the red book, and idly flipped the pages. The face that stared out at me seemed so different - there was a hard, cold, confident stare that was no longer me. Tim saw me looking "They won't stop you at Heathrow as a British passport holder, but if they do, you've been doing a contract out here in the Gulf and are coming home at the end. That will explain the tan. And they are unlikely to strip you and notice that you have lost all your hair.... And your 'skin.... I don't think they record that at all!"

I was in the back of the plane, of course, whereas Tim had been booked in first class. I hardly dared taste the food and drink they served me, as it seemed so strange and exotic after all this time. And I had no interest in the newspapers and magazines, as the lives they told me about were so different from anything I had experienced recently. And at Heathrow Tim went through immigration and customs with me - not that I was stopped, as it happened.

He had hired a car to take us to Cardiff, and we picked up what used to be my old van there to drive us "home". It seemed to be so odd arriving at "my" cottage again, and I felt like crying when I realised it was no longer mine. Inside, I assumed that Tim would make me sleep down in the cage in the cellar, and, indeed, he at once ordered me down there and told me to strip.

I stood there, naked in front of him, and he muttered "It's your turn now, Steve. How many lads like me did you keep down here? How many of them were naked in front of you? And now you're even more exposed that we were. Still, I have decided that you can grow the hair on your head again, and I'll let you have pit hair and pubes, too - but shave your balls, and keep everything else neatly cropped, understand?"

I smiled. "Great...."

"OK, Steve! That's it! I think you're slipping - remember, I can turn you over to the police, call in his Highness's goons..... I never want to hear anything other than a proper servile response in future."

He looked at me expectantly, and I cast my eyes down, hung my head, and said "Sir, thank you, sir."

"Good! Now, put some shorts on and get out there and start tidying the grounds. The vegetable plot is over run, the grass needs cutting, the leaves are to be swept from the entrance....."

"Sir, yes, sir."

I'd never really liked outdoor work, but now, after my time at the desert farm complex, it felt good to be able to work out of doors like this "decently" clad, and my own master. I could hardly believe that I could move around freely, without having to bother about keeping the coffle chain free of obstructions.

I worked away diligently, and could see Tim occasionally looking through the window at me, and when he finally called me in he told me he was pleased with my progress, and that I should go and shower before dinner. I was allowed to sit opposite him at the table, although he reprimanded me when I started to wolf down the food before he had given me permission to begin. I had to clear away and wash up the plates and stuff, and then stood there uncertainly.

"It's been a long day - time for bed", Tim stated, giving me no choice. I expected him to tell me to go down to the cage in the cellar, but instead I had to follow him upstairs, then stand there and watch as he undressed and threw himself into my bed and pulled the beautiful goose down duvet over him - how I remembered the caress of that against my bare skin, and now, like everything else I had once owned, it was his.

I could see him stretching his body as he lay there, then he pointed at the mound forming where he was clearly having an erection. "On your knees, boy, then get under there and get rid of this for me", he said calmly, his eyes locked on mine.

I did as I was told, tunnelling my head under the duvet and locating his cock almost by the strong male smell that was coming from his pubes. I nuzzled it, kissed it, teased my tongue under his 'skin, and soon had him writhing and moaning with pleasure as I worked away. I tasted his salty pre-cum, and then my mouth was full of his cum as he shot into me. He cried out as I carried on sucking and licking, but I knew by now that a lot of blokes find attention to their cocks at times like that gives them that exquisite combination of pain and pleasure that you can't really describe, so I carried on sucking him until he was empty.

Tim told me to get a blanket and sleep on the floor by the side of the bed in case he wanted further attention during the night, and it seemed somehow good to be there in the cool rather than the desert heat, with only the sound of Tim's breathing as he slept, rather than that of all my coffle mates. I lay there feeling the scratchy wool all around me and was somehow glad to be "home", even if it was no longer mine.

In the morning, as dawn broke, I heard Tim commanding me to get onto the bed, and he threw the duvet aside to reveal his morning hard-on. This time, though, I was ordered to squat over it and lower myself so that he could enter me, and then I had to fuck away as Tim moaned and reached out for my powerful thighs almost in ecstasy, as he enjoyed seeing and feeling them power my body up and down on him.

After breakfast Tim looked at me. "One final test, Steve. Do you accept that you belong to me totally now? And are you prepared to be mine for the rest of your life, as punishment for what you did to all those lads, and tried to do to me?"

"Yes, sir", I said quietly.

He led me down to the cellar, and told me to lie on my back on what had been my horse. "You wear the ownership mark of his Highness, Steve. Now you belong to me again. So You must have my mark on you. Are you prepared, or shall I cuff you?"

I remembered the searing agony of my branding, and at first thought I should be held down. But I had born it before, and I was tough. So I said quietly "I am prepared, sir."

Tim had fashioned a big "T" from the end of a wire coat hanger, and he used a blowlamp to heat it to in a bright cherry red. He sat astride my belly, looking down at my eyes as he pressed it into my skin, next to the existing mark. I screamed, but managed to hold my body still as the brand seared into me, and then Tim pulled it away. "Good boy, Steve! I do believe you have learned to obey!"

So I was his, totally and completely. As he explained frequently during the next few weeks, I was to atone for my errors for the rest of my life by living a life of total obedience to him. So I did all the chores, ironed his clothes, and acted as his sexual plaything whenever he chose - usually sucking him off at night, and learning to "ride" his cock, to prolong his pleasure, in the morning. Tim meanwhile worked at the PC, growing his financial holdings, and occasionally went into the local town for supplies, and even occasionally off for a night or two to London. Somehow it was satisfying for me, as I had learned at the farm complex to totally subdue my natural desire to be in charge, and now it was Tim who decided everything, and as long as I obeyed him, I was happy.

But things are never as simple as that, are they? And although my conscious mind had accepted that this was to be my life from now on, deeper down some more primitive part of me was stirring and wanting to - no, needing to - assert itself.

Tim had fucked me "properly" one morning - that is to say instead of me "riding" is cock and doing all the work, he'd commanded me to kneel down with my arse in the air so he could fuck me properly. As usual, he was energetic and enthusiastic, pumping me vigorously and hard until he was satisfied. He had fallen forwards, his sweaty body along my back, and something inside me welled up and made me do it: I threw him off me, and before he could react I had him on his back and was lying on top of him, my face next to his and my cock stabbing at his belly. His knees were banging my side and his feet kicking at my bum, and he was futilely scrabbling at me with his hands - something I soon stopped as I gripped his wrists and pinioned them above his head.

As he shouted and threatened me, I wriggled by body down a bit, and then moved forward so that my rampantly hard cock was nudging at his arse. He shouted more, and I smiled down at him. "There's no one to hear, Tim!"

"You'll regret this, Steve.... The police....."

I didn't care, though. That primeval thing in my brain was driving me. I was no longer rational. I was a man, a man who liked to be in charge. Who needed to be in charge. A man who needed to prove his domination and control of another by using his cock for the purpose it was intended. But actually I was gentle. Well, as gentle as a bloke can be whose natural sexual desire is to be on top, in charge, making the running. It was really hard to force my way into Tim, especially without any pre-stretching or lubing, but I managed it. And then I enjoyed his arse, going through the whole repertoire of fast and slow, long and short, hard and soft, to give myself finally one of the biggest climaxes I had ever had in my entire life.

I fell forward on to him again, now biting his neck and shoulders to mark him as mine, and forcing my tongue into his mouth as if it was a replacement for my cock which I had now pulled out from him. We were both breathing incredibly hard, and covered in sweat and cum. Finally I stopped, and lay there, his head by the side of mine, with him still pinioned under me.

"You know what I said, Steve", he murmured. "I reckon it's prison for you for the rest of your life."

I shrugged. "Sorry, Tim. Something.... Something snapped. I agree with you that I ought to be punished. I wanted to work for you. But I am a man, you know - and a man who was used to being in control.

I can subdue it most of the time.... But when it comes to sex....."

I saw a glimmer of a smile forming on his face. "That was an ace fuck though, wasn't it?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Reckon you could do it again, Steve?"

"Well, not immediately...." As I said this, I felt an emotion flooding through me that I'd never felt before. I'd subdued myself to serve his Highness and had learned to obey. And I could obey Tim, as I did need to be punished. But as I saw that smile on his face I realised I wanted to obey him, I wanted to be with him - be with him all the time. When time I'd captured him I had felt that there had been "something" about him that was different from all the others.... What it was, I don't know. But I felt a rush of desire, of longing, of needing him.

"So if I ordered you to do it again tomorrow, you could?"

"Sir, yes, sir!", I snapped, smiling as I did so, and once more thrusting my tongue into his mouth so we could start again to enjoy the closeness of two males who knew there was some special bond between them.

He broke away. "So perhaps I had better keep you a little longer, Steve."

"Thank you, sir", I said, smiling back, as I once more bit into the delicate softness of his shoulder and tasted the sweetness of his sweat.

THE END

Pete Brown, London, August 2006