A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 6
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
I woke up with a start, as a hand slapped my naked arse. All of the others were standing around, rubbing their eyes, and at least half of them were, like me, erect with their cocks jutting harshly forward out of our cinch rings. We all looked as if we'd been sleeping, and my fellows were rubbing their eyes, and stretching their muscles.
Stu, the young water boy, was doing the rounds, and when it was my turn I gratefully sucked a deep draught of the warm, bitter water.
My whole body ached. It was like the day after a very hard game, when you know you've got to go to the gym, but you'd rather not! On those days I usually cheated a bit, cutting back on the number of reps and so on, but now I realised there would e no faking it: in spite of the ache all over me, I'd have to work all the long afternoon, and work hard, too, if the group was to avoid punishment.
I suppose it's amazing what you can make yourself do, especially when you're "encouraged" by the whip! In spite of what he'd said, the Overseer seemed to spend most of his time adjacent to me, so if there was any letup in the way I was working, it was me who got the whip across my back, bum ad thighs. The constant stinging pain from the strokes only added to my misery - the ache from all my muscles, and the burning sensation from all over me where the sun was striking through the sun block. I began to realise the power that a man holding a whip has over a naked man - there's no way you can prevent the tail of the thing striking your flesh, no clothing to cushion the sharpness of it. You just have to endure, especially as any sound resulted in another stroke. My body jerked each time a blow struck, but it really did spur me on - even though I was dog tired and my muscles were all screaming for relief, I worked on and on.
I saw that having the Overseer looking at such a small number of slaves really did pay dividends - I'm certain that they got much more work out of the nine of us than they would have if we'd only been eight slaves and they economised by not having an Overseer.
We toiled on and on, and through my sweat-streaked eyes I finally saw relief approaching - the shadows got longer and longer, and I knew it must be getting close to sunset. Finally, the end did come, and the Overseer came and told us we could stop.
Under his supervision we had to collect all the tools into a neat pile, then form up into two rows of four. I stood there surrounded by my fellow slaves, and could smell the strong man scent of work- induced sweat pouring off them, and could almost feel the exhaustion radiating from us all. We were all breathing hard still from our exertions, but our trials were not over: the Overseer made us run back towards the building complex in the middle of the estate - all eight of us had to run in step, I discovered when I broke ranks and got a touch of the whip for it! After all that day's work, it was almost beyond endurance - but I later realised it was all part of the owner's plan to keep us in a state of physical perfection: you use quite different muscles running than you do when you're working, and so this was another opportunity to keep us fully toned up. I began to realise some of the advantages of being "cinched", too - on the odd occasion when I've run naked in the past, my balls have slapped against my thighs and it's hurt - now I could run with my fellows and they were neatly tucked up out of the way (although having the heavy ring at the base of my cock did make it feel very strange as my cock bounced up and down in time to my steps).
We arrived back at the central complex and the Overseer ordered us to halt whilst he went inside. We stood there, breathing hard and sweating, and the guys all obviously knew what was expected as they stood there in two rows of four, not moving, just waiting.
The Overseer came out eventually, and ordered us in - the code tattooed on our shoulders was scanned as we passed through the entrance, so I suppose they kept a record of which slaves had returned, in case any had tried to escape. We were in a wide corridor, and we marched in our formation onto a large grill set into the floor.
"Down!", the Overseer commanded, and I had to copy what all the other s were doing - I squatted down, then pulled my arse cheeks apart. This was a communal crapping!
I couldn't do it! I've never crapped in front of anyone before. It's one of those private things you do by yourself, isn't it? In the middle of a group of naked guys, squatting over a grille, I just couldn't let go. The Overseer was watching, and came up and said "Better do it, Jon, boy. It's a long night, and if you have to crap in your quarters, you won't be very popular with your mates!"
So I tried, and I shut my eyes to try to blot out the sight of the other naked men crapping around me. But I couldn't shut out the sound of the tiny grunts and sighs that came from them as they let go, or stop the smell that rose from the sewer under the grill from assailing my nose. Actually, in spite of myself, I did manage to crap, although I hardly pissed at all - in spite of the amounts I'd been drinking all day I guess I'd sweated so much that there was nothing left inside me to get rid of.
They let us shower next - it was incredible to have the water cascading over my body that was now acing from its exertions and extremely sore from where the harsh sun had beaten through the sun block - although "cascading" was hardly the right term - there were only four shower heads for the eight of us, and the water really only trickled out of them: how I longed for the kind of deluge a power shower gives you! I suspected that even this meagre water supply wasn't going to last long, as the other guys didn't wait for one to use the shower, then a second to get under it - they all clustered together, and started to soap each other frantically as the evidently knew time was short.
Now I'm not shy about showering with other men, of course, as I did it all the time at the Club. But there was always plenty of room there, and it was nothing at all like the huddle of hot, sweaty bodies writhing together in the very confined space of the showers here. Indeed, it was almost a point of honour not to touch another guy in our showers at the Club - it was OK to be close to your mates in the communal bath after a match, but that was different. When you were just showering after a practice, or a session in the gym, it was absolutely no touching. So I stood back a bit, wondering what to do.
I edged towards the huddle of nude men, and gingerly started to soap myself, using some of the water splashing off their bodies to avoid getting too close. But at once a guard, who had been patrolling along the corridor, shouted at me.
"Get in there, slave! How dare you start to touch yourself. Slaves tend to each other, and it's forbidden to start to enjoy your own body!"
All the others looked at me, and one of the guys kind of reached out and beckoned to me, then, as I got closer, put his arm around me and pulled me into the group. Quickly I felt soapy hands sliding all over me, and I realised that three of them were cleaning me, running their hands over my pecs, down my back, up and down my legs, and then, even into my ass crack. I went to turn away, but there were bodies and hands whichever way I turned. I wanted to tell them to stop, to leave me alone, but I knew of the prohibition on speaking, so said nothing. They didn't seem to recognise how uncomfortable all this was making me, or, if they did, they didn't care, as they just carried on. Then, to my horror, I felt a soapy hand grab hold of my cock and give it a few quick strokes, followed by that feeling of helplessness you get when your balls are cupped in another guys hands! I wanted to pull away, but was scared it might do me damage, so I just stood there.
It was only a "mechanical" process, though - the guys didn't seem really intent on doing anything sexual. I soon realised that this was how they had to do it - if there's only a limited space, and a limited time, and you're forbidden to touch yourself, how else are you going to get clean?
We all stood there under the drizzle of water, planing hands down each others' bodies to get the soap off - I even joined in, as it seemed so harmless, so asexual. I'd felt other guys' bodies before, of course, as in the rucks you can't help but be aware of the muscles of all your team mates as they strain around you. And when you're in the communal bath, you obviously touch each other. But this was different - running your hands all over another guy to make sure you cover ever inch of him to get the soap off means that you touch all of him - I felt the hard tone of pecs, the little shock as nipples touched my hand, the ridges of stomachs toned by hard work, the power of the huge muscles in the bum, and then, because I wasn't really paying all that much attention to what I was doing, I felt the silky smoothness of another guy's cock. I stopped at once, of course, and jerked my hand away - but the feel of that soft yet strong muscle was so different from anything else I'd ever touched that a tiny thrill ran thorough me.
All too soon the water was turned off, and we spilled out from the area and stood there with the water dripping off us. They didn't give us any towels or anything, but we soon began to dry in the hot arid air. The guard snapped an order, and we formed up into our two by four formation again and marched off. The guard stopped in front of one of a number of barred doors leading off the corridor, opened it with a key, and we went in. The door clanged shut behind us, and at once the guys all began to speak... "Hey, Jon, I'm Craig....", "Tony, man...", "Sam...." The total prohibition on speech evidently didn't apply here.
They were all grinning and smiling, and slapping me on the back in welcome. Things only calmed down a it when the guard appeared at the bars of the door and thrust in sixteen of the slave biscuits that seemed to be our only food, and we all champed hungrily on them - I'd found them bland and tasteless before, but now, after really working hard all day, I was so glad to have anything at all to eat that I tore at them and champed away with the same enthusiasm that all my fellows did.
Looking around I saw that we were in a very tiny space - it was utterly bare except for the bars on the door. The floor was faintly cushioned and covered in some sort of plastic, there was a light fitting on the ceiling, and on one wall one of the tongue-action taps I'd seen before to give us drinking water. As they stood there and chatted to me, the other guys were anyway lining up to suck away at the tap, taking in great draughts of the warm, brackish water, and I realised I wanted to do the same, too.
Gradually, from the excited chatter, I learned that we were all here together for the night, as we would be every night - there was only just room but, it was explained to me, it didn't matter as the cool nights meant that you needed to be huddled up against your mates in order to keep warm. This time, in our cell at night, was also the only time that we were allowed to speak, and they were all telling me how I really had to learn to keep quiet during the day to avoid the whole team being punished.
Strangely, they didn't seem at all interested in world events. They wanted to know how I'd been "taken", how much I'd fetched at the sale, but I had no idea what they were talking about. "When you were auctioned", Craig explained to me, "How high did the bidding go?"
"I wasn't auctioned - they said they 'took me to order' and I was brought straight here..."
"So you didn't go through one of the auction houses, didn't have to stand there whilst all the prospective purchasers handled you.... lucky guy!"
It was only after I'd been a slave for some time that I realised what was going on - events in "the world" no longer had any meaning for me - it was all too remote, and made no difference at all to my life. Things happening in London or New York might just as well have been on a different planet, as there was absolutely no way that it seemed to affect me. And when you spend all your time slaving away totally naked, just eating slave biscuits, you forget you were ever interested in clothes, or food, or "stuff" like stereos and cars! So they didn't want to know about "the news", but how much I'd been bought for was of huge interest because it told them how much our owner was willing to spend on the group - if we were all very high priced and continued to be very valuable, they argued, there was less likelihood of us being sent to the organ banks, or sold to the mines. I learned that in the hierarchy of things I did have to worry about, I needed to do everything I could to avoid being whipped for not performing my work properly. Then I had to be concerned about the possibility of my owner "selling me on" to somewhere far worse - everyone feared the mines, as it was known that once you disappeared down the big hole in the ground, you never came up again - not ever! You lived and died in the total darkness down below, and never saw the sun again. And worst of all was the possibility that you might so annoy your owner that he's sell you to the organ traders - I don't know whether the tales I heard were apocryphal or true, but even hearing rumours of being tied permanently to a bed with tubes to feed and drain me, whilst my organs were "harvested", one after the other to satisfy rich clients' orders, was enough to send shivers all through me.
That first night I was faintly astonished, I suppose, at exactly how little interest they all paid in me - after all, I had outside knowledge, I could tell them so much... But they weren't interested, and it was because those things no longer mattered to them. They, in turn, had little to tell me: I tried asking what life as a work slave was like, but they all just shrugged, and said "like today." As my time there went on, I came to realise what they meant - every day was just like all the others as we woke, ate, crapped, then worked, rested, crapped, ate and slept! The routine never changed, and all that differed from day to day was our work assignment - and they all had the same characteristics: they were all hard manual labour, and we were "encouraged" by the whip to work away at them as hard as we possibly could. Our days consisted of a slight continual hunger as our bodies always craved more food than we were given, and huge efforts to avoid the sharp crack of the whip over our naked bodies - nothing else mattered, after a time.
Such chatter a we'd had soon began to subside, and I realised it was because the other guys were, like me, absolutely exhausted. Gradually we all sank to the floor, and I saw that this is where we were going to spend the night. I'd felt cramped in the confined space standing up, but as we tried to stretch out, it was clear that it wasn't possible at all to keep even a tiny gap between you and the guys on either side of you - I was going to be in close, intimate contact with these other men all night.
The light dimmed, and our cell was now only illuminated by the lights from the corridor outside coming in through the barred doors. I tried to move myself so that I had as much space as possible, but I could feel the warmth of my companions pressing in to me, and they seemed to be totally unconcerned - I even felt the wiry brush of pubic hair, and the touch of a cock, against my thigh, and I instinctively drew away - only to find myself pushing my own cock into the guy on the other side of me!
The first man to speak to me, Craig, was on one side of me and as we shuffled around to try to maximise our comfort, he kind of half whispered "Remember, Jon, you're forbidden to touch yourself for pleasure - that light fitting in the ceiling is also a camera, and if they see your trying to jerk of or anything, they'll send a shock through the floor that will hurt us all. So if you want to wank yourself, don't.... But I'd be glad to do it for you....."
"Hey, no! I'm not a fag!"
"Look, Jon, the sooner you forget all that rubbish the better. We all live together here, and the only bit of pleasure we get is from each other. So stop being a silly cunt..."
As he said this, I felt his hand cupping my balls, and I struggled to get away from him. But of course I was "locked in" by the presence of the other guys all around, and the man behind hissed "For fuck's sake, stop wriggling...."
Craig's hand tightened around my balls, and I cried "No. Stop that. Get off me!"
The next moment there was uproar. I felt hands gliding all over me, and Craig was saying "Let's show Jon how we spend our free time, shall we, guys?"
One of the men - Tony - vaulted across me and straddled my chest. As I lay there helpless under him all I could see in front of my face was his gigantic cock and balls, and I could feel his hot naked ass pressing into my chest. Craig's hand had was now stroking my balls, and someone else was doing something to my cock - there was a hot, moist sensation all around it, and the most incredible feeling coming from my cock head. In spite of the flood of sensations almost totally overpowering my brain, somewhere something inside me told me what was happening - I was getting a blow job. And as there were only men in here, it must be one of the other guys who was doing those things to my cock - I'd managed to persuade some of the women I'd been with to blow me occasionally, but this seemed wholly different.
Other hands were stroking me all over, and a finger was probing into my navel, causing me to try to buck and writhe to make it go away. Another hand was in between my thighs, and I suddenly felt a warm, moist "something" - a finger I realised - probing at my ass hole!
"No, stop it....."
Tony shuffled forwards so that his cock was right over my mouth, and as I continued to try to protest, he rubbed his cock head all over my lips. I clamped them together and twisted my head from side to side trying to get away, but he just laughed and said "Come on, Jon... Time for your first taste of cock. Come on, be a good boy... Open your mouth, and take it down..."
I kept my mouth tightly closed, but even so I began to experience him - the feeling of his hot manhood against my lips and my face: he was holding his erect cock around the root now, and slapping each of my cheeks with it. And, as he pressed closer to me, that special man scent that only comes from the sweat glands all around the balls filled my nostrils.
I was trying to buck even harder now as one (or two?) Guys had hold of my nipples and were rolling them around between their fingers - I never knew how sensitive I was there before, and I wanted to cry out to tell them to stop as it was hurting - or was it really hurting?.... Was it just a pleasurable sensation, the like of which I'd never known before? But I knew that if I opened my mouth Tony would push his cock in, and there was just no way that I was going to have that!
I knew I was erect, and the guy who now had his hand on my cock had skinned me back and was raking across my sensitive cock head with a finger nail. I wanted to scream to get this stopped, too, but somehow it was turning me on - I had a massive, hard erection and as he moved from his touching of me to start a gentle wanking, moving my 'skin up and down over my cock head, I almost groaned with pleasure. No one had ever done this to me before except me - somehow all the women I'd been with just didn't seem to want to play with my cock, and I now knew what I'd been missing all these years.
The pain from m nipples subsided, but something else was going on - oh no, they were being sucked and nibbled! I'd done this to my women, of course, and now I began to see what it did to the body, and just how exciting it could be.
The combination of the wanking, sucking, caressing, and general scratching was too much for me - my balls were aching for release, and I knew that if it all didn't stop soon, I'd shoot. And I knew that if I shot, it would go everywhere - I always shoot a huge load, and after several days abstinence, it would be massive! I'd cover all the guys in my cum... No, I couldn't let that happen... So I opened my mouth and half cried, half moaned "No... Stop... Please... I'm going to cum... "
But as my lips parted, Tony reached down and pressed his thumb and finger into the side of my open mouth so that I couldn't close it, and then pushed his cock in to me!
I'll always remember that first experience of taking a cock - the heat of it, the faint taste of his sweat, the smell of his genitals filling my nose, and now, as he pushed it home, the sheer difference between the feel of a cock in your mouth and anything else I'd ever known. Well, there's nothing like it, is there? Hard and rigid, yet soft and somehow mild. The way the flange is thick and meaty, and the shaft is smooth and subtle. In spite of my initial revulsion, my tongue couldn't help exploring it and I started to get something else - a mild salty taste.... Oh no, Jesus Christ no.... I wasn't the only one about to cum.... Was this pre-cum I could taste?
I tried to spit his cock out, force it away with my tongue, but Tony only pressed down and started to rock up and down. As he did so, I started to gag - I wanted it out, and I wanted it out now. My whole thoughts became focused on this one thing - to get his cock out of me - and all the other things flooding through me slipped in to the background. I could vaguely hear Tony shouting "Good boy... Take it down.... Take my cock, Jon.... You can do it.... Take it down..." And he began to both stroke himself and thrust himself more vigorously in and out of me.
The next instant I knew that I'd shot my load - my balls and cock were messaging my brain and telling me that I had just had the best wank I'd ever experienced, but, at the same time, I heard Tony's cries stop as he shouted "Yes... Yes... Yes...." And my mouth filled with his hot, fresh spunk. I wanted to gag and choke and spit it out, but his cock was still blocking my mouth and my jaws were clamped open by his strong hands, so all I could do was lie there and take it. Actually, as I relaxed, I realised that it wasn't a problem - I'd tried tasting my own cum once, as a teenager, and knew that it's one of those things where the smell just isn't the same as the taste - you all know what I mean, don't you? If you have a bowl of raspberries, the smell of raspberry is rather like the taste. But cum isn't like that, is it? The smell is sort of like ammonia, but it doesn't taste of anything much: vaguely salty, vaguely sweet, but not at all like it smells. It's the texture that puts some people off, I suppose- that warm, thick, rich oiliness that's really rather unlike anything else you ever experience.
All the guys were cheering and shouting now, and Tony pulled out of me and got off me, to kneel beside me. I started to flush with embarrassment as I thought of all the other guys getting covered in my cum where I'd shot, but as I looked around, I saw they were all brushing their bodies, rubbing in patches of it to their skins. It was Craig who must have wanked me, as he seemed to have his hand covered in it, and he was moving around from guy to guy letting them smell it, and lick his fingers!
"So that was your first time, was it?". Craig asked, laughingly, and when I saw how unconcerned all the other guys were about things, I relaxed a bit and instead of being angry at how they'd just used my body, I just kind of mumbled "Yes."
"Look, Jon, it happens", Craig went on. "When we get a new guy joining the group - which isn't often - he has to get used to it quickly, and we find that getting it over with like this is the best way. It isn't good enough just to be a work slave here, as sometimes the owner wants us to put on bit of a show for his guests - we'll get taken out of this cage after a big dinner and paraded around his dining room, then we have to do a kind of orgy scene for them. You've got to take part, or else it's the same as if you don't work properly - we'd all get punished."
We both got to our feet, and I blurted out "But I'm not a fag.. I've got.. Had... A girlfriend. I only go with women. I don't go with guys..."
"Wise up, Jon! You didn't have a snout ring, or a cinch ring, either. You didn't work naked. What you mean is that you used to have a girl friend, and you used not to go with guys. Well, you do now. Come on... Now you've started, show us how much you like it... I just gave you a wanking the like of which I bet you've never had before... So I think you owe me a favour... Why don't you wank me, in return, or suck me off?"
I could sort of see what he was saying, but it's one think to be held down and masturbated whilst another guy cums into your mouth, and quite another to go and do those things willingly! So I said "No... "
"Yes, Jon, you will!"
"No... I'm not going to...."
But when there are seven guys surrounding you who want you to do something, even when you don't, there's not much you can do about it, is there? They didn't exactly force me, but they all shuffled and clustered around me and my hands were put onto a hard, stiff cock.
"Go on, Jon... Wank it..." Voices were whispering, and at the same time a body pressed into me from the back and hands reached around and started to tweak my nipples again. There wasn't much I could do, as I could see there was no escape, so rather gingerly I stroked my hand up and down the warm muscle that was cradled in it. It was all smooth and slippery, and I guessed that some of my own cum must be lubricating it.
As I worked away, the hands let go of my nipples and at once two mouths clamped over them and started to nibble and suck at me - it felt amazing! But a new sensation now intruded - a hot, hard cock was pushing itself down my arse crack, then started to rub up and down.
I actually moaned - yes, that's the right word - moaned. I tried to say "Stop". But all that could come out was a low moan of ecstasy as the cock spilled up and down between my cheeks, and the body owning it rubbed up and down my back - we were all slicked with sweat now, and our bodies slid sensuously over each other. I heard whispering in my ear... "That's it, Jon... Do you like the feel of a cock between your ass...?", and all I could do was moan a reply.
With all this going on I'd stopped wanking the cock in my hand, but its owner didn't want me to, as his own hand closed over mine to fold it tightly over his cock, and he started to rock backwards and forwards as if he was fucking.
I was in a frenzy - and then I felt the hot spurt of cum as the guy I was wanking came and shot his load down onto my belly and thighs. At the same time, the guy behind me pushed my thighs gently apart and pushed his cock in between them - I could feel his cock head, moist and warm, banging into the back of my balls. Almost be reflex, I squeezed my thighs together, and he moaned as he continued to thrust backwards and forwards between them.
There was another hard cock in my hand now, and it was easier to wank this one - for one thing, my hand was covered in the cum of the previous guy, and for another, my ass hole and balls were telling me that something extremely pleasurable was going on as the cock between my thighs continued to slide over and into them. I moaned again, and there was a lot of reaction from the other guys around me as they all gave little gasps of pleasure and sighs of encouragement.
The guy between my thighs came, and more cum hit me, and as I wanked the second guy, I felt hands on my shoulders gently pushing me down onto my knees. And then there was another cock pressing for entry to my lips. He was much gentler than Tony, and didn't hit my cheeks with it, or force my jaws apart - he just put his hands around my head and pulled my face into his little strip of pubic hair so that his cock kind of went sideways across my lips, and his balls were pressed against my chin. I heard him whispering "Come on, Jon..." So gently, to encourage me.
By now I think I was in some sort of "sex shock". I'd been wanked, I'd tasted cock for the first time, a guy had slid himself down my ass and between my thighs, and I wanked another man... But, most of all, it was the fact that I was surrounded by other naked men, and we were all covered in cum. There was the incredible smell of raw, pure sex everywhere, and, I suppose, the whole atmosphere was full of male pheromones urging my body on at some primeval level to "do the right thing."
However much you don't want to, you just can't override primitive instincts, can you? My higher brain still, at some level, wanted to say "no", but a deeper, primeval part of it was saying "Yes... Yes... Yes... This is what bodies were made for. This is what men were meant to do..."
I opened my lips, and took the delicious cock into me, sliding my tongue willingly over its head, and revelling in the taste of pure manhood as the pre-cum hit my taste buds.
It's not clear to me how many men I experienced that night - it was far more than seven, so I knew that the guys must be going around for "second helpings". I sucked cocks, and they went between my ass cheeks, and in my arm pits. Bodies slid over me. Tongues caressed mine as we deep kissed. And I was wanked and sucked so many times that I lost count and all I knew was that my balls were screaming for relief as pleasure piled on pleasure. The extreme fatigue that everyone seemed to have been experiencing seemed to have vanished, as the sex went on, and on.
But eventually we subsided into a big, unruly heap on the floor, soaked in our own sweat and cum, and not caring which part of which guy was in contact with who!
I can't say I slept well as the constant shuffling of other bodies around mine tended to make deep sleep impossible, but I honestly didn't care - I'd never known anything like this, never had so many men so close to me. And I'd loved it!
End Of Part 6