A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 4
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
They led me off, and it turned out to be several weeks before I was to see my "owner" again.
We went trough the huge building and I almost got used to walking naked - after a bit you ceased to notice how your cock slaps your thighs, and how your balls feel when they are unsupported by your jeans, or a jockstrap. It was also clear that the presence of a totally nude man in this building was nothing unusual - the other people who passed us, mostly in Arab dress, although some were in normal Western "office casual" wear, hardly glanced at us as they went by. And I saw several other naked men - slaves, I now supposed - hurrying along.
Eventually we went into a room with small barred cells lining the wall, and the guards opened one, and motioned me inside. There was a small, padded leather-covered area on the floor to lie on, a hole in the corner that I took to be where I should piss and crap, and a spigot on the wall - when I looked at it later I saw that I had to kind of suck at it to get water out.
One of the guards fetched one of the food packs that I'd been given on the plane, opened it, and threw the biscuits into my cage.
"Here you are, boy", he said. "Now behave tonight - no shouting, no shaking of the bars. Just lie there and get some sleep - you've got a long, tiring day tomorrow, and you need to be rested and fresh if you're going to avoid getting your group punished!"
"Oh... And one other thing.... You are forbidden to speak whilst you are here in the cages. I expect that there will be other slaves in here tonight, but you may not speak with them. We have microphones in here, and any conversation, and you will all be beaten."
"And finally, remember what your master said about sexual relief. You are forbidden to touch your own cock, under any circumstances! You may be lucky and there might be another slave in the next cage, in which case you can wank, suck or fuck each other through the bars. But if there is not, or if he does not want to do it, then you had better hope you get a 'wet dream' tonight, else your balls will be aching by the morning - we know you young guys like to jerk off two or three times a day, but it is not allowed."
The guard went out, and I sank to the floor on the leather-covered pad, naked and alone. Jesus Christ, what sort of place was I in? Naked slaves, men having sex with each other.... And, I realised, I hadn't seen a woman all the time I'd been there.
I sat against the bars of the cage, and pulled my knees up towards my body and hugged my arms around my legs, in a kind of gesture of comfort to myself. What was going to happen to me? What was in store for me tomorrow, when I met my group? All I could do was speculate, and all sorts of dreadful thoughts went through my head - perhaps I'd have to fuck a man in the group - I'd read about going up men's arses, but had of course never done it (I'd not even tried it with my girl friends, as I always found their cunts were so much fun). And then the sick realisation came that perhaps it wouldn't me that would be doing the fucking - perhaps the group would all stick their cocks up my arse! Fucking hell - would it be painful? I'd read that it was, when they reported cases of gay rape in the papers - the victims were always described as "sobbing" or "in agony from their ordeal".
I just sat there and I was almost in despair. Then the outer door opened again and a solitary guard came in with another slave. I got to my feet, and stood there holding the bars of my cage, and I was oblivious to the fact that my cock was almost jutting through them as I held on - it's funny how you can forget something like your nakedness ,when there's the prospect of something important happening. I almost shouted out, but remembered what I had been told about maintaining silence.
The guard glanced around, and said to slave "I'll put you in net door to the other slave, so that you can have a little fun together if you like - he's new, so he doesn't understand our ways yet... So don't try to tempt him to speak or do any of the other silly slave tricks - we're watching and listening, you know, and all these cells have an electric shock circuit in them.
The new slave and I looked at each other, and I could at once see how different he was to me - for one thing, although he was clearly a white man from the set of his features, he was tanned a deep brown all over - and I mean all over, as there was not even a tiny shadow of white where he might have worn shorts or briefs. And for another, he seemed to have absolutely no body hair below the neck, except for a tiny patch of almost blond hair just over his cock - it could only have been about four inches wide and an inch high, and the hair had been cut so that it wasn't more than half an inch long. As a result of this lack of hair, his body definition was amazingly visible - he had a true six-pack stomach, and big muscular pecs leading up to broad shoulders and a muscular neck.
He grinned at me, and nodded his head, as if to say hello.
"I'm.."
"Ssshhh...!", he went. And at this time I realised they must be serious about the threat of electric shocks, else why would an "experienced" slave be so concerned that we should not speak.
He reached his hand through the bars and reached for my shoulder, and turned me towards him - I realised that he was reading the tattoo on my shoulder, and his finger traced out the "Jon", so he knew my name. He then turned sideways, and I read, in turn, his name - Karl. I in turn ran my finger over it, to signal that I now knew who he was.
The guards had thrown him a packet of the food, too, and he didn't waste any time - he tore it open, and started to gnaw and bite at it as if he was ravenously hungry. It was only after I had been a slave for a few weeks that I realised why this was - all the slaves were slightly hungry all the time! They wanted us to have enough to eat so that we could do the challenging and gruelling work we had to, but not so much that we would put on any fat at all. Consequently they tended to err on the side of "too little", and slaves were always on the lookout for more food.
I couldn't really eat both of my biscuits as they were so hard and bland, and so I offered the second one to him - I wasn't yet experiencing the effects of the estate's regime. He seized it and devoured it as he had his own, and shook my hand in a gesture of real gratitude.
And then there was nothing to do! Without being able to speak, what do you do when there's another guy in the next cell to you? We'd looked at each other, and we'd eaten, and now there was nothing. I thought about using some sort of sign language to try to ask him questions, but it was just too difficult - all the questions I had were complex ones, and I couldn't think of a way of doing it.
I was saved from any further attempt at communication, though, as Karl lay down on his leather pad and stretched out almost luxuriously. He closed his eyes, and seemed to go to sleep - it was almost as if he was completely unused to having any "quiet time" to himself, and just wanted to lie there and enjoy it.
I looked at his body lying there, and wondered if I'd become like this - Karl was obviously completely unconcerned about being naked, found the dreadful biscuits to be something he really wanted to eat, and could fall asleep almost immediately even when another man was watching him. What kind of life did he have, I wondered, and what twist of fate had brought him here?
Karl was indeed asleep, as I could tell from the way his chest was rising and falling so rhythmically, and his eyeballs, underneath his closed lids, were flickering backwards and forwards as he slept. Every now and then he gave a little half moan, or a sigh, and I knew that this was a sign of sleep, too - when you share a room with other guys on rugby tours you get to know that a lot of guys make these tiny noises in the night as they drift into and out of different levels of sleep.
Other than for the lack of body hair, and clothes, he looked like some amazing fashion plate designed to illustrate life on the beach - his deep tan and handsome features made him really rather a classic. But of course in adverts you never see a man's cock, and his was lying casually draped over one of his muscular thighs, exposing his two big balls in their sac lying snugly there. As his dream went on, something must have aroused him as I saw his cock start to go erect, and soon it was sticking vertically up from his body. He was cut, and his cock head was always exposed, but now that the whole member was erect it made even more of an impression on me.
As I watched, he came out of sleep, and saw me looking down at him. He reached through the bars, took my hand, and moved it towards his cock! I realised that he wanted me to wank him, and I pulled away in disgust, shaking my head violently! He must have got the wrong message, because he got up to his feet in one smooth movement (in the way that big, strong men who are in control of their bodies can) and came and pressed himself to the bars separating us, so that his erect cock stuck through into my cell.
He opened his mouth and thrust his index finger in and out of it - I realised he was pantomiming that I could suck him off if I wanted to - he'd got entirely the wrong message from my refusal to wank him! So I again shook my head violently.
He looked so puzzled, as if to question why any one would not want to wank him or suck him off, then his face lit up in a smile. He turned around so that his arse was facing me, half bent over, then mimicked his finger going in and out of his hole! He saw me looking, then turned again so that his cock was once more sticking into my cell, and motioned for me to draw close so he could get into my arse!
Again I shook my head violently, and he now looked even more puzzled. He pointed at his hard cock, pointed at me, and raised his shoulders in a kind of quizzical way. I shook my head, and he just shrugged and turned away, and went and sat on his pad, rather as I had been doing earlier. His erection was still with him, though, and now it was even harder - the poor guy obviously did want some relief, but I wasn't going to do it!
We sat, silent, in or own cells for what must have been hours, and I know I drifted off to sleep once or twice. I too got a raging erection, and at one point he stood at the bars making gestures for me to go closer to him as he clearly wanted to do something about it - but I of course refused. But even as I did so I wondered how long this could go on for - if I wasn't allowed to touch my cock, how was I ever going to get rid of all that cum that my balls kept generating?
I suppose it must have been morning - the lights had been on all the time - because two guards came in. Karl and I both stood up, and we were both erect with morning hard-ons - I suppose I should have been embarrassed about having the other men see me like this, but perhaps I was getting used to it already. Or perhaps the presence of Karl, treating it as if it was perfectly normal to have his erection on display, that did it.
The guards tossed us a packet of the slave bisuits each, and now I must havebeen getting hungry as, like Karl, I crunched at mine and devoured it greedily. The guards watched us - it ionly took a couple of minutes - then unlocked our cages and told us to follow them. This would have been my opportunity, I suppose - two guards and two slaves - to make a break for it: but how was I to escape the estate when I had that collar on me? I decided that I'd better wait and find out more, and so I followed the guards and Karl docilely down the hall. Thankfully, my erection subsided, as I hated walking around with my cock bobbing up and down rigidly in front of me.
We went into a room that was clearly a shower, as there were nozzles sticking out of the ceiling, and Karl immediately went to where there was a grating in the corner and squatted down, reaching under himself to pull his bum apart. Oh no - he was going to crap, right there, in front of us!
"Hey, slave - get over there and do your business like that one", one guard told me, gesturing towards Karl. "You won't get another chance today, you know, as slaves are only allowed to crap in the morning and after their duties are done."
Well, I didn't want to - I couldn't imagine trying to crap in front of other men like that, but, to tell you the truth, I did feel very "full" inside, and it had been a long time since I had crapped. Blushing with embarrassment, I went and squatted down by the side of Karl, and, seeing what he had done, I reached under myself and pulled my bum apart. I never thought I could, but, once I was in that position, a couple of giant turds soon slipped out, and fell through the grating. It would have been bad enough having to crap like this if I had been by myself, but squatting so close to Karl made it even worse - I could almost feel the heat radiating from his body.
I stood up, and Karl had evidently finished, too, as he did the same. I looked around for toilet tissue, but there was none in sight - then it occurred to me that perhaps this was not needed by slaves: Crouched right down like that, with your bum pulled apart, there was almost no mess, I supposed. And this would be especially true for Karl, I reasoned, if, like the rest of his body, his arse crack had been cleared of hair too.
The water turned on and the guards motioned us to go under. I went to soap myself as you do, but to my surprise Karl at once came and started to run his soapy hands all over me - and I do mean all over! Now when I've showered at the club, you do occasionally touch another guy in the showers, and sometimes you even might soap a guy's back if he's got a big mud stain there that's particularly hard to get at. But Karl was all over me, running his hands over my shoulders, pecs and stomach, then coming back to do my arms. He had his hand under my pits, too, and apart from the fact that I didn't like another man touching me all over, there was the problem that his hands were so rough - unlike his magnificent body that was silkily smooth in its hairless state, there were all sorts of ridges of really hard, dry skin, and callouses, on Karl's hands, and they quite grated as he ran them over me. Now he was soaping my back, and I felt his hand start to slide over my bum - well, I suppose that was all right, but when he moved and I felt his fingers start into my crack, I turned around and stopped him. He looked very surprised, as if running your soapy fingers down another man's crack was the most normal thing in the world.
But he shrugged, and knelt down and started soaping my legs - he tapped at me to lift my foot, and first did in between all my toes, then the other foot. It really felt odd, and somehow it was so intimate to have this huge tough naked man kneeling in front of me doing such things. His soapy hands moved up to do my thighs, and then I had to stop him again - he'd actually gone to start soaping my cock and balls! I held on to his hands and pushed them away, but he as insistent, and tried to get me to let go so that he could resume. I really didn't know what to do - there was the prohibition on speaking, I knew, but I had to make him stop. The more insistent I got with trying to make his hands go away, the more insistent he became in trying to do it.
The guards were watching us, as one of them suddenly said "Stop fucking around in the shower! You, new boy: the experienced slave is only trying to wash your cock and balls. And he was only trying to clean your ass earlier. How else are you going to get clean - you're not allowed to touch your own cock, remember! So stand there, and let him get on with it - we need you all clean for what's going to happen to you next."
I was so shocked at what he'd said that I did in fact stop, and the next moment I felt Karl's soapy hands caressing - yes, that's what it was - caressing my balls and sliding along my cock! I'd never had a man do this to me before - no, I'd never had anyone at all do this to me before, as my girlfriend really didn't like touching my tackle. Oh hell, it actually felt good, although as his big hands continued to stroke and probe at me I felt like standing up on tiptoe to try to get away from them - I guess every man is so sensitive about his balls, as one wrong touch and you know it's going to be agony. Even when I wank myself, I'm so careful; and I wasn't convinced somehow that another man would take the same care with my jewels as I did myself! My other worry was that I might start to get an erection: don't get me wrong, this was a man doing it to me, and I didn't think it was a sexual turn-on: it's just that anyone sliding their soapy hands along a man's cock is likely to get a simple physical reaction, aren't they?
Karl stood up at last, smiling at me, and handed the bar of soap to me. He turned around so that his big broad back, tapering in that classic triangle to his waist, was towards me, and was obviously expecting me to do the same thing to him. Well, it was all right doing his back - as I said, you sometimes help out your mates at the club - but when I came to do his bum, my courage almost failed me. I'd never touched a man's hard, muscular arse muscles before (well, except in rucks and so on, but then there's his rugger shorts between you and him, isn't there?), and they felt somehow good under my hands. But the guards were watching me, and one shouted "Not just the surface - get that hand down his crack! He's just crapped, and although he's usually clean, it's best to make sure!"
It was awful. I put as much soap all over my hand as I could, then kind of slid my hand down with my little finger going between his muscular cheeks. It was so warm down there, and when my finger touched what I knew must be that puckered flesh that's his hole, I almost freaked out. Quite apart from the fact that I'd never ever dreamed I'd be touching that most intimate part of a man, the thought that this whole area might be covered in his crap was revolting, and I wanted to get my hand out as soon as possible. Karl had obviously had this done before, however, as he kind of bent both legs outwards at the knees, so that his bum naturally opened up a bit, and I had no choice but to quickly - as quickly as I cold - continue to push my hand along so that the side of my palm felt his pucker and the tip of my finger was touching his ball sac. Thank God that was over!
But now I had to wash the front of him, and it was sort of OK doing his shoulders, chest and stomach, except that I noticed that his nipples almost went hard as my soapy hand brushed over them. It felt odd pushing my hand into another man's pits, too, especially when there was no hair there - it's a bit like trying to tie someone else's tie: you know how to do your own, and you never even think about it. But try doing another man's , when you're the wrong way around, and it all seems to be very wrong!
I remembered how Karl had washed my toes, and how he had knelt in front of me, so I did the same - it seemed so odd to be kneeling in front of another man, especially when we were both naked. I could see his big cock and balls swinging around in front of me, and I tried not to think about what was coming next as I soaped away at his feet - I noticed that the whole of his sole was covered in thick, horny flesh, and, on thinking about it, I realised that this must be because he walked around in bare feet over the hot, stony ground of the estate - I almost winced at the thought that this was presumably how my feet were going to end up, and I just knew that it would probably be painful getting there!
But as I ran my hands up his calves and then on to his superbly muscled thighs, I knew I couldn't long delay the inevitable. So I soaped my hands as much as possible again, as if a thick covering of soap suds could in some way make a barrier between me and him, and gently reached for his balls. I was terrified that I'd do something wrong, make some move that would cause him to scream, or lash out at me, or something - I've told you how worried I was when he was doing my balls, and now I was even more worried, if that was possible, in reverse.
The only balls I'd ever fondled in my whole life before today were my own - an these felt so different. Although they were about the same size as mine, and hung in a loose, low-hanging sac as mine did, they felt so very, very different - somehow softer, and silkier. Then I realised it was because his sac was completely free of pubic hair - I began to think that this was why I'd read that some men always shaved their balls: if your own balls felt like this without hair, how much better it would be to stroke them when you're having a solitary wank? If I ever got out of this vile place I'd have to consider doing it.
I was so engrossed in taking care of Karl's balls that I almost forgot what I had to do next. Very timorously I reached up and took hold of his cock in my fingers. I sort of soaped it very gently, and wanted to get away from it as quickly as I could. But Karl obviously had other ideas - he reached down and held my hand so that I couldn't get away. And as he did this, I felt his cock start to go stiff. I wanted to recoil in horror, but he tightened his grip on my wrist and I couldn't move. Then, as he looked down at me, with an expression on his face that was almost triumphant, he moved my hand up and down, so that I was, in effect, wanking him. Oh, fuck me - it actually felt all right: I'd always thought that having to wank another man would be vile and disgusting, but as my soaped hand slid up and down his shaft, that was now rock hard, it somehow felt as if this is what hands and cocks were meant for. Of course I know that there's endless pleasure to be got from wanking yourself, but I now realised that holding another man's cock and stroking it was good, too - this hard, fleshy, hot muscle that was the essence of another man just felt so right in my hand.
"Stop that!", one of the guards shouted. "If you slaves wanted to wank each other you had ample opportunity overnight. Separate, and rinse off, as you've got work to do today!"
Very reluctantly I got to my feet, and Karl just shrugged at me, as if to say "I told you so", and we sluiced the soap off our bodies and stood there as the water stopped running.
Karl clearly knew what to do as he stood there kind of 'planing' the water off his body with his hands, and when I saw that we were not going to be given towels, I did the same thing.
One of the guards then gestured at Karl and walked off, and Karl obediently followed him. I wondered why he had been in the cage, and where he was being taken, and what his role at the estate was anyway, and wondered if I'd ever find out. But the other guard was now telling me to buck up and follow him, and so my reverie was cut short.
We went along more corridors, and after a few moments my trail of wet footprints ceased as my body dried in the air conditioning.
The guard did not knock when we came eventually a door, but went straight in, and I followed. In the room there was a hairdresser's chair, and a man in a white smock who looked just like a conventional barber.
"This one's joining the heavy work squad", the guard said. "So he gets a Mohican, and the standard all-over removal except for the cock bar."
The "barber" hardly acknowledged him, and motioned for me to sit down. His electric clippers buzzed, and soon hair from my head was falling all over my naked body - there was no sheet like a conventional barber uses, and the hair kind of tickled my naked flesh as it fell onto it. But I wondered why there was so much hair - I kept mine pretty tightly cropped anyway, and so where could all this be coming from?
The barber then gestured for me to get out of the chair and to go and lie on a table next to it. It was covered in black leather, and felt cool to my skin. The barber stood over me, and started to run his clippers up and down my body, taking off the thatch of hair on my chest and the treasure trail that ran across my stomach. He went very slowly around my nipples, and the cold steel of the base of the electric clippers almost made me flinch as he worked. A quick journey up into my pits, and then he approached my pubic hair.
"Please, no... Don't do that... I'm a man..."
"Shut the fuck up, slave! How dare you speak!", the guard cut in, and I saw him fingering the "tickler" on his belt.
"Get on with it - I haven't got all day!", he then rapped at the barber. "He's got to be shaved after you've taken the rough off. And you, slave, don't be so fucking stupid - losing your pubic hair's got nothing to do with being a man! Some men with forests of wiry hair down there are useless at fucking, and some men who are smooth as a baby's bottom are champions in the sexual athletics league. Anyway, you don't get to choose - your owner has put you into the hard work group, and all those slaves are shaved smooth except for the ornamental cock bar to show your natural hair colour and to help men looking at you imagine what you'd be like 'au naturel'. It makes sense, really - you'll get all sweaty working hard during the wet season, and on the sort of jobs you do there's often a lot of dust, mud and general muck. It's much easier to keep your pelt clean and you looking presentable if there's not a lot of hair for everything to get matted in. And, of course, it shows off your muscle definition so much better - even before your chest is shaved, I can see your pecs so much more clearly."
The clippers buzzed, and my feet tingled as the wiry bits of my pubic hair fell all over them. The barber then ran his hands generally over my body, and said to the guard "The rest can be shaved - I can't get it with the clippers."
"Get on with it, then!", the guard snapped. "The vet is coming soon, and he's got to be done..."
So the barber went away, and came back with a stainless steel bowl containing water, a conventional shaving brush, and a set of razors. Well, I'm not going to tell you all about the humiliation of being shaved all over - the way the barber casually brushed me all over with shaving foam, just as if he was painting a wall, then used the razors to pull huge swathes of it, and my body hair, off. It was particularly vile when I had to lie on the table again and have my balls and the root of my cock shaved - the barber almost seemed to take a delight in moving my cock from side to side and scraping again and again over my sensitive skin to make sure I was completely smooth. The worse part, of course, was when they shaved inside my arse crack and around my pucker - I had to lie on the cool leather on my now smooth chest, and hold my bum apart so that they could do it! The feeling as the barbed dabbed at my hole with the soapy brush was, though, somehow exciting - it tickled at first, but as he started to scrape away at it with the razor, I could feel my cock getting hard. Oh, shit, this couldn't be happening to me - real men don't get excited when their holes are played with, only fags!
When it was all over the guard went to lead me away, but as we went out there was a full-length mirror. I gasped as I saw what was standing there - I had been a normal, moderately hairy guy, with short hair. And now there was something completely different staring back at me - my body looked not just naked any more, but nude - I could see all my muscles so much more clearly defined than when I'd had my normal body hair, and they somehow looked bigger and more impressive. Even the ridges of muscle on my stomach seemed to be emphasised, and my cock - well, I've told you I've always considered myself to be well hung, but now I looked enormous. Without all the hair around it, it stood out from my body so much more clearly. And the little strip of hair that remained on top of my cock seemed to emphasise it, although it was clipped so short that you could really only tell the colour, and couldn't know that I'd had a really wiry forest down there. The worst thing, though, was the way my face had changed - I now only had a four inch wide strip of hair running front to back from my forehead to my neck, and the rest of my head had been stripped completely bald - I had no sideboards any longer, nothing, just this strip sticking up and cropped to about half an inch. It made my face look harsh and somehow cruel - I'd always been considered "handsome", but now I looked more like a thug!
The guard pointed at a bucket of some sort of goo standing there, and snapped "Smother yourself with that, all over. It's sun block, and you'll be given it every day until we've got a good tan worked up all over you. Be careful not to miss any part of you, as the sun is very strong here and can reach into surprising places - it will be your problem if you fail, and we will make no allowances in your work schedule if you're sore.
So I rubbed the creamy stuff into myself, as you do when you're on the beach, but then, thinking about what he said, I started to rub it into my cock and my balls, and down my ass crack. I hated handling myself and almost fondling myself as the man watched me, but I have to say it did feel good to have the oily stuff and my hands and my bare balls all together.
"Don't forget your head", the guard said. "You're completely white there at the moment - it takes some getting used to a Mohican."
I did as I was told, and my nude body now shining with the oil, we again went off down one of the seemingly interminable corridors.
When we stopped again the guard did knock, as the sign on the door said clearly "Veterinarian - Knock before entering." We waited for an instant, and then were told to enter. Inside there was a guy not much older than me, wearing a kind of green smock, the sort you see doctors wearing sometimes on the TV.
The man came over and read the number tattooed on my shoulder, and went to a screen and keyed it in. He read the screen for a few moments, then said "So, slave Jon, did you have unprotected sex after you saw your doctor on 14 July?"
I looked surprised. How did he know I'd seen the doctor then?
"No, sir, no", I said. In fact, it was true - My girl friend and I had had a spat, and she hadn't let me in her bed for a week, so I hadn't had sex of any kind with her.
"Good! When you went to see your doctor about that strained muscle you had, he took a blood test as a routine. We got access to it, and so we know you have no major diseases. Because of your master's view that slaves should be allowed to sex freely amongst themselves, we have to be particularly careful that all new slaves are disease free."
"Please, sir.... "
"Yes, slave, you may speak."
"Please, sir, how did you get access to my medical records. They're confidential..."
"Don't be stupid, slave. When a man as rich as your new owner decides to commission the taking of a new slave, his agents simply bribe whoever it is that has all the information we need about him. We have your complete medical history, and all the details of your bank statements, your academic history, everything. But I'm only interested in your medical history, and your local doctor did a thorough job and so I don't have to waste time on a whole lot of tests and so on. Now, in the chair..."
I went and sat in another of those chairs that looked like something in a dental surgery, and the guy came over and snapped a couple of catches closed so that my wrists were locked to the arms of the chair. Then he bent down, and my ankles were secured. Straps were pulled out from behind the chair, and he cinched them closed, really quite tight, around my hip bones, and under my arms, above my pecs. Finally, clamps were moved in from the side of the headrest so that my head was completely immobile.
I didn't know what was going to happen to me, but from all these preparations, I knew it wouldn't be anything pleasant!
End Of Part 4