A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 13 (concludes)
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
We inched across the thick carpet, and Craig picked up the prod that the two young men had left lying casually on the bedside cabinet.
"Do you think the guards are watching this on TV", he whispered.
"I don't think so - these are the private, family quarters. It's not like we were in the slave pens. I'd guess that they like their privacy, and that these rooms are not only not monitored, but that they're pretty well soundproofed. I don't suppose the owner would like his sons to hear what he's doing sometimes with some of the slaves he must bring here."
We slid into the luxurious bathroom - all marble tiles and mirrors - and the two young men were so intent on their mutual exploration of their bodies that they failed to notice us immediately.
"Christ, I need a piss!", Craig announced in a loud voice, and the two men splashed around in shock when they saw us both standing there.
"Get out, slave...." I'll say this for the owner's son - he recovered his composure very quickly, and managed to try to be in control.
"Shut the fuck up, boy!", Craig snapped in reply. "One more word out of you and this prod goes in the water. Ever seen a slave prodded....? Yes, of course you have! Ever thought it would happen to you and your playmate? I wonder if the effect is worse if water helps make the contact with your naked flesh....?"
Craig went and stood at the edge of the bath, then started to piss! He directed the thick, heavy stream of piss over both young men, and they frantically tried to cover their heads and faces with their hands to stop the torrent hitting them.
"Your turn, Jon."
"No, I don't need to piss..."
"Yes you do! I need you to piss. I need you to piss over these lads, to show them who's in charge now. Get over here, and get started!" Craig sounded so angry, that I decided it would be best to go along with him to avoid him losing it completely.
I've never pissed over anyone before, and it was quite interesting. Actually, watching the two guys wriggle and try to get away from the direct blast as I played my cock up and down over them was almost funny! And it was a good experience - you are totally dominant when you hose your piss over another man. I filed the experience away as something I'd do again, if we got out of there.
When I'd finished, Craig leaned down over the bath and grabbed the owner's son by one arm, and hauled him to his feet. The lad stood there, dripping water off his naked body, whilst his mate still lay in the bath underneath him.
"Do you need to piss, too?", Craig asked him. "Yes, I think you do. Start pissing!"
The son didn't want to, I could tell, but he could see Craig was in no mood for an argument. And as well as being bigger and stronger than the lad, Craig was clutching the prod rather menacingly.
The lad let fly, but almost stopped in shock as Craig reached in and casually took his cock and directed it over his mate who was still lying there, drenching the poor guy's head and shoulders. We could all smell the pungent piss scent now filling the room as the hot piss mixed with the warm bath water. I realised that this was another way Craig was telling both of them that things had changed - Craig was directing the piss, using the son's cock just as a hose.
As soon as the son had dried up, Craig dragged him out of the room, telling me to keep a close watch on the lad still in the bath. "I don't expect he'll try anything", Craig said, "As he's not so stupid to take on someone who's three inches taller, fifty pounds heavier, and who's used to tough manual labour!"
So I stood there and looked down at him, and he looked up at me. After a few moments, he said quietly "Please.... Please..... "
"What?"
"Look, please don't hurt me. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone..."
"Won't tell anyone what? That you went off to a foreign country and raped a guy? That you connived with keeping a man captive in London? That you raped another man in London?"
"No.. You've got it wrong..."
"Not from my perspective, I haven't!"
"No... Please... Just let me go. We'll let you and your fiend go. We'll pay you - his father's got money... I didn't mean to do anything wrong - it was just a bit of fun, something to do in the vacation, before going to Uni...."
It was pathetic, really. Begging like that. He'd acted like a man, using his cock up my ass and Craig's ass, and now he was just like a school boy who's been found out, and wants to escape punishment.
I didn't know what to say, but at that moment Craig came back into the room and hauled him up out of the water, then half-dragged him out of the room, dripping water all the way.
In the bedroom Craig picked up the collars and cuffs that the guards had taken off us and quickly and efficiently cuffed the lad's wrists behind his head, just as we'd been. Then he almost threw him onto the bed, to lie there next to the owner's son who was similarly restrained.
"I think a fucking competition's in order, Jon, don't you? Their winner was the one who shot his load first, but I think we ought to take our time - it's the last one to cum who wins, OK?"
"Actually", he went on, "It's not exactly the same game, as, unlike you two the first time, we're not going to take you dry."
As he was speaking Craig knelt on the bed beside the owner's son, and started to wank him. The lad couldn't resist, of course, and after a couple of strokes I could see his cock head sticking our from Craig's clenched hand as he vigorously - and I do mean vigorously - wanked away. It must have been a bit painful for him, as you could see from his expression that he wasn't enjoying it at all, and I thought of how it would be to have Craig's work-calloused hands gripping my cock really tight, then wanking me!
"Come on, Jon - milk yours, too."
"No - I'm going to use the luxury product! Specially bottled on a well known estate, and imported and sold at enormous expense to the discerning."
The owner's son shot his load at this point, and Craig cleverly pointed the lad's cock up towards his head just as he did so, causing the cum to be shot all over his chest. Craig was idly mopping some of this up and rubbing it into his erect cock, as I took the little bottle, released the lid, and started to slather my cock with the cool viscous liquid.
"I wonder if we know any of the slaves who contributed to this?", Craig said, pointing at the bottle. "You know, if it's so rare and precious, it's a pity to be using it just to slick a slave's cock like yours! Like a rare vintage wine, it ought to be savoured and enjoyed...."
He took the bottle out of my hands, then lightly vaulted to sit astride the owner's son's chest, pressing his knees down into the lad's shoulders to pinion him to the bed.
"Yes", he went on "A luxury product like this should be really appreciated by a rich man's son..."
He held the bottle near the owner's son's nose, then tipped it up so that a big glob of the semen dripped out and lay on the lad's upper lip. The lad was struggling and his hips and legs were bucking up and down, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to dislodge Craig's weight. And Craig's knees kept the lad firmly under control.
Craig smeared the spunk all over the lad's upper lip, and into his nose.
"How does that slave cum smell?", he asked. "Does that remind you of all the slaves you've used?"
"Now, open wide....", he went on. And when the lad did nothing, Craig reached down and pinched his nostrils together. To breathe, the lad opened his mouth, and as soon as he did Craig jammed his fingers and thumb into the lad's cheeks, forcing him to keep it open.
With almost infinite slowness Craig held the bottle above the lad's open mouth and tipped it. All four of us watched almost in horror as a huge glob of the thick, white semen formed on the edge of the neck, then lengthened into a long drool before dropping majestically into the waiting mouth.
I thought the owner's son was going to choke, as he desperately tried to spit it out. But Craig pushed his mouth shut, and held it closed - there was no way the lad could avoid the power of Craig's strong fingers.
"There... That wasn't so bad, was it?", Craig said, mockingly. "I expect you're used to taking slave cum fresh from the cock, and the preserved, pasteurised stuff's a bit of a let down..."
"Bastard!" The lad seemed to be recovering. "I don't suck cock, especially not slave cock! So, no, I don't take slave cum! Slaves are there to suck my cock, and....." He stopped, abruptly, as he realised what he'd said.
Craig shuffled forward so that he was now towering over the lad's chest, his cock almost directly over his face.
"Perhaps we'd better have a lesson in cock sucking before we go on", he said, looking down at the lad. "Open your mouth, and put your tongue out."
"No... I won't...."
His sentence was cut off, as there was a resounding "slap" noise - Craig had half turned around and slapped the lad's belly, very hard. I could see a red hand-print outlined on the pale flesh.
"Do as you're told! Open your mouth, and put your tongue out..."
The lad complied, fortunately, I think, as Craig didn't seem to be in a mood to be trifled with. Being cinched has some problems, and the way it makes you jut out means that you can't just feed your cock in to a guy's mouth - Craig had to force his cock downwards, but he decided not to go right in - he played his cock head over the son's lips and tongue, all the time wanking himself slightly, so that towards the end a few drops of pre-cum were dripping on to him.
I don't know exactly what Craig had in mind, but as we were so intent on watching this, his mate had slowly slid off the bed and made a run for the door. Of course the stupid lad hadn't thought it through - with your hands cuffed behind your neck you can't open a door!
He almost cowered as I advanced on him, and, as I think I've mentioned before, I suppose we do look fierce even if we mean no real harm - our general musculature, our deep, dark tan, the cinched cock pointing angrily forward, and the nose ring, all combine to make us look like thugs even if were not.
The lad cowered to the floor, and was almost sobbing "Please, sir... Please don't hurt me...."
I contrasted this behaviour with the way that Stu had bravely face the two guards who fucked him so brutally. This lad was prepared to be big and tough, and fuck Craig and me when we were helpless, but, when it came to it, he was jut a snivelling coward.
I didn't bother to say anything, but to emphasise just how much he was in our power, I picked him up bodily and threw him over my shoulder so that his head was hanging just above my bum, his cock was pressed into my shoulders, and I stopped him from sliding off by wrapping one of my strong arms around his thighs. I carried him across the room as if he weighed nothing, and threw him back on to the bed.
And then Craig and I fucked them. I enjoyed the tight ass of the one I had, and I could see Craig revelling in forcing himself into the owner's son. And it was so much better to be doing it like this - two studs, two great buddies, Craig and me together, showing how superior we were to the effete rich young men. They had no dignity - their cries weren't caused by pain, or shame, as ours had been. No, they just cried out because they never thought it would happen to them, never thought that heir rich, privileged world could so easily be blown apart by two ordinary guys like Craig and me. I'd never felt so good, so right about a fuck, and I wanted it to go on and on. I did all I could to control my lust, wanting to enjoy my power for as long as possible. But the more I revelled in my superiority, the more excited I became and the more I needed to shoot.
Afterwards, Craig stuffed the lads' boxers into their mouths to keep them quiet, then we took them in the lift - all four of us naked and pressed close together - down in to the basement.
Craig pushed open the door of the room where we'd been kept, and we both rushed in. It was easy to overpower the two guards- without their prods they were totally unable to defend themselves against our strength and the sheer unexpectedness of our attack.
I unlocked the cell and Stu came out, and we pushed the two young guys in and locked the door.
"Get naked!", Craig rapped at the guards.
"What...?"
"You heard! Strip. Get naked. You're the only ones in here with clothes on, and I want you naked like the rest of us."
Craig and I were holding the prods now, and trembling and afraid, the two guards slowly removed their garments as we watched.
"Our mate Stu tells me you like fucking young guys", Craig said to them. "Is that right?"
"No.... We're just ordinary men. We're married...."
"But you both fucked him, right? If you don't like it, why did you do it?"
"Well, it's boring down here on guard all the time. And anyway, the owner's son told us to...."
"OK! Jon and I are bored. So now we're going to tell you to fuck, as we'd like our boredom relieved." As Craig was speaking, he opened the cell and roughly pushed the two guards in. They and the two young men stood there, looking out at us.
"Right, guards. Fuck those two. You're experienced at fucking young guys against their will, and I want to see you in action."
All our shouted no, and told us they weren't going to do it. So Craig unlocked the cell, stepped inside, and "prodded" all four of them.
I suppose I should have felt sorry for them, but, after all, they'd brutally raped me, and Craig, and Stu. And the guards never hesitated to use the prod on us.
We waited until they'd finished writhing and groaning, then Craig repeated is command. This time it was only the young guys who protested, and when he advanced towards the cell again with the prod, the two burly guards had had enough - they pushed the two young men down to the ground and started to fuck them "doggy style".
I'm not a Christian, but I do admire the Christian beliefs, and I could see how much sense it all made. If I was going to be a religious guy I'd certainly become a Christian rather than a Buddhist or a Muslim or anything - it's the only one that seems to make any sense, and certainly the only one that lets men fuck each other and even condones rape. I was watching a perfect example of the Christian ethic in action right in front of my eyes - "do unto others as you'd be done unto", and "love thy neighbour as thyself" were being enacted there in that cell as the two guards vigorously fucked away at the young men. As at least none of them would need to feel at all guilty afterwards, I mused, as their god encouraged it.
Afterwards, as they all sat against the wall, looking rather dejected, I thought, Stu turned to me and said "Well, it's all right for you guys - you've fucked the two young guys, and they've had the guards fuck them. But those two bastards raped me, and I'm still unsatisfied.... I want them punished"
"Oh, come on, Stu - you always take it up the ass. It can't have been that bad to have those guards fuck you. I know they're not as good specimens of manhood as Craig and me, but they aren't bad looking - they've got OK cocks, too. And, anyway, they will be punished - do you think the owner will let them keep their jobs after he's learned they've fucked his son and his friend? Actually, I bet they'll be lucky to escape enslavement: I wouldn't be surprised if the owner doesn't order them 'taken' so they can't talk about their experience. I bet they'll be down the mines next week, if not sooner!"
"No - I want to fuck them!"
"But you don't fuck... You've never fucked me, or any of the other guys in the group..."
Stu turned to Craig and took a prod out of his hand, then went to the cell, unlocked it, and gestured to one of the guards to come out. The poor guy was almost shivering with fear, but Stu marched him over to a crate, and roughly pushed him down over it.
Stu really grew up that day. I'd seen him progress from a very young man of 16, eager to please as a water boy, through to being "one of us" in the group as he'd matured - but he'd always wanted to please me, and, to a lesser extent the other guys, and was always trying to get my cock up his ass. He'd never shown any inclination to "top", and he'd never taken the lead in anything.
I think it was good that he was able to assert himself in this way. He carried on fucking in spite of the guard's cries of protest that turned into shouts of outrage, and then whimpers of pain as Stu's hard cock forced its way home. He needed to work off his rage at the way he'd been treated, and after being a slave for so long, it was the first step back to being a proper free man.
When he'd pulled out and we'd locked the guard back in the cell with the others, Craig, Stu and I showered. This is the first time we'd ever showered together as free men, and it was somehow different - we gladly crowded together under the single shower head so that we could enjoy each others bodies ,and that was so much better than being forced into a humiliating closeness. We laughed and joked as we soaped each other, playfully tweaked our nipples and hefted our balls, and ran soapy hands along cocks and down ass cracks.
"OK, now let's get out of here, and tell the police", I said.
"No, Jon. That won't do any good. They'll never believe us. And all these guys will lie through their teeth, and say we broke in her and raped them, or something - and they'll find our cum up their holes, after all. Let's just leave...."
Well, it's easier said than done. We were naked, and had no clothes. We went through the house, ransacking the wardrobes in the luxurious bedrooms, but there was very little suitable - we were all big, muscular guys, and most of the clothes were for the "regular" sized owner and his son. We ended up dressed mostly in "exercise" clothes, and even then we looked vaguely obscene - the fabric stretched very tight over our muscular frames, and our cinched cocks making quite a statement as they bulged prominently through the fabric.
It was whilst we were doing this search that Stu came across a safe, behind a picture in the master bedroom suite. It had a combination lock on it, and Craig suggested that perhaps there was cash in there - these rich men, he suggested, always kept a big supply on hand in case "something went wrong" and they needed to flee the country.
He went out, and came back a few minutes later with the owner's son, still cuffed and naked.
"Right. Open the safe."
"No... I can't..... I don't know the combination....."
Craig reached down and squeezed the lads balls hard. He shrieked with the suddenness of the attack, and the agony it caused him.
"Perhaps you didn't hear what happened to a friend of mine on your father's estate", Craig said conversationally. "He offended one of your father's guests, and so as an amusement they all spent some time 'playing' with his balls. I was one of the other slaves brought in to provide 'after dinner entertainment', and all I could do was stand and watch. The pain made him lose his temper completely, unfortunately, as when one of the men then went to fuck him, he hit out. Your father ordered my friend to be castrated there and then, and they did it on the dinner table, with a carving knife."
"So I know something about playing with a man's balls, and I've seen a castration done. And I'm absolutely no friend of your fathers. So I suggest you try to open the safe - if there's a lot of money in there it might just persuade me to send you back to your father intact."
"No... Honestly, I don't know.....", the lad wailed.
Craig squeezed him again, and I think it must have been harder this time as the lad doubled up with the pain, and seemed almost to be vomiting.
"Last chance", Craig said, icily calm. "Next time, it's the knife. And as you won't be needing your cock when you've lost your balls, as once your hormones dry up you won't feel like fucking, I've decided to take that off, too.
Much to my relief, as I thought Craig honestly would go through with his threat, the son whispered "try this......" He had a small gold chain around his neck with a medallion on it, and gestured at it. Craig brutally ripped the chain off the lad, and went and fiddled with the safe, using stuff written on the medallion.
You could have herd a pin drop in that quiet London bedroom, with its thick carpets and heavy drapes keeping out the normal city noise. If anyone had looked in, who would have guessed what four naked men were doing? Then there was a "click", and Craig swung the door open.
As I sit here on the terrace of our house writing this memoir, what happened after we got the money out of the safe has dimmed to a bit of a blur. We took the owner's son back down and locked him in the cell with his mate and the guards, telling them we'd send the police to release them later. Then, wearing our incredibly tight clothes, we let ourselves out of the house into a very exclusive Holland Park road, just as dawn was breaking.
We had a few problems - the taxi we found didn't want to accept Euros, and that's all we had - great wads of 100 Euro notes! And when we tried to check into a hotel at six in the morning, dressed as we were and without credit cards, they took a lot of persuasion - although a very large cash deposit did help.
All three of us slept in the same bed in the luxury suite we took, and it was probably the best sex I'd ever had - relieved of all the tensions, we fucked and fucked! I still wanted to go to the police, but, when we woke up after a brief sleep to find it lunch time, the local news on the TV showed shots of a "major fire in Holland Park", and we saw the house where we'd been kept in flames. They interviewed the guards and the owner's son and his friend, who all said that it was totally sudden and unexpected - they'd "been woken by the flames and were lucky to get out alive."
"See", said Craig. "These super rich can get away with anything. Someone found them, and they've very cleverly destroyed the evidence - we'll never be able to show we were imprisoned there."
And, later, even though we spent hours at the Foreign Office, I could never convince anyone to take my story of being enslaved on the estate seriously. Actually, I think the senior official I finally met did believe me, but he wouldn't admit it - "diplomatic relations with important trading partners" were not going to be upset, I saw.
It was hard, too, to get rid of the cash - the anti-drug laws make it really hard to do anything with very substantial cash sums, but fortunately I knew a bit about the banking system from when I was working, and by opening a number of accounts (not in itself easy these days, when you've got no "history") and dribbling the cash in over almost a year, we did manage it.
I suppose I could have gone back to my "old" life and got a job back in the City, but having used my body for work, I knew this was what really satisfied me. Craig was a labourer anyway, and could never do a "desk job". We wanted Stu to go to Uni, but he said he didn't want to catch up on three years of missed education. So we decided to go into business.
We moved to this really nice small town on the coast in Devon, where it's a lot more sunny than most parts of the UK. We have a nice house with a sea view, bought with the owner's cash. There's a lot of retired people here, and they're always remodelling their houses and gardens, and they can afford to do it, too! So when three hardworking "respectable" men set up shop as general labourers and landscapers, the business just flowed in.
All Summer we work stripped to the waist, as we all like feeling the sun beat on our backs as we work. And, of course, around the house, we all go naked, all the time - we can easily afford the heating bills!
Sex was a bit of a problem after a time - Craig always wanted to fuck me, and Stu always wanted to be fucked by me. But, as I've told you, I quite like to arrange things to suit myself - and although Stu has everything you'd want in a bed companion, you do get tired of the same ass, night after night, don't you?
I found this great club in London, though - it's a bit of a pain to get to, as we're three hours away - but most Saturday nights you'll find me there. Craig and Stu understand it's my bit of escapism, and I think they find it quite funny that I go there and put myself through it - I don't get back until nearly lunch time on Sunday, and I'm always dog tired for the rest of the day. You go in, strip and lock all your clothes away, and then it's up to you to take what ass you can - they only allow 'tops' in, and you have to argue and fight to subdue a guy if you want to fuck him. You can almost smell the testosterone in the air, and most times I do get to fuck and manage to avoid taking it - although when I lose out, it only spurs me on to try harder next time.
Craig and I had our snout rings taken out as we tend to go and call on potential new customers, and we make a lot of money by being seen to be very "polite" and helpful - and a snout ring just doesn't go with that! But Stu is proud of his, and I think most people in the town think he's just a young punk who will grow out of it. We've told everyone we're brothers, and customers keep commiserating with me about "your wild young brother" and how they're sure "he'll learn one day, and grow up to be just like you". I sometimes wonder what these folk would think if they knew I fucked him almost every night, and that we have to keep the double glazing closed, even in Summer, to avoid his cries of passion disturbing the neighbours. It's even more amusing when women around the town - especially the summer visitors - try to flirt with him, attracted by his nice body, his handsome face and quick smile, and his general attitude to life.
All of us decided to keep our cinch rings - although it is a bit of a problem when we want to go swimming in the local public pool: in our work jeans our very prominent bulges are almost unnoticed, but you try wearing Speedos when your cock is being forced out in front of you.
I said earlier that slavery taught me things about myself, and, in a way, I ought to be grateful to the owner. Without his ordering me to be "taken", I'd never have met Stu and Craig, I'd have gone through life in some boring office job, and would probably have got fat and flabby. Now I work hard physically, never have a moments worry, have all the great sex I want, and continue to be in superb shape physically. I had a lot of friends before I was enslaved, but nothing can compare with the real bonding I have with Craig and Stu.
We do worry about the other slaves in our group still on the estate, but we can't do anything about it - I've told you the Foreign Office wouldn't help, and there's just no way we can search an entire country looking for an estate full of slaves, is there? We don't even know in which part of the country we were kept!
So that's it, really - a slave's life, from free man, through those "interesting" years, and out the other end. There's only one piece of advice I'd give all you fit young guys reading this - you probably don't want to try it: you might not be as lucky as me, and might end up down them mines or in the organ banks. So if you're fond of displaying your body in public, on the Rugby pitch, or at the swimming baths, or whatever - watch out: you could be the next one the owner orders to be "taken".
The End. Pete Brown, London, August/September 2003.