MANDRASAT -- Chapter 24
(The author of this story wishes to remain anonymous. It is posted for him by Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com )
Shareem lay enthralled on a huge satin draped bed in his sumptuous airborne sleeping quarters; the sounds of two powerful jet engines on either side of the massive plane sent tremors throbbing throughout a dimly lit but otherwise empty fuselage. He was naked and hurtling through the night skies at forty-two thousand feet; his two favorite body slaves attending him. One sucking his cock, the other his balls. Each had but a year previously been outstanding members of championship football teams at their respective American universities, but Mandrasat's instruments of torture and Shareem's single mindedness had made willing sex slaves of them both.
Hanging from the compartment's ceiling like a trap door was a giant flat screen, plasma TV, and on the screen, writhing in agony, the recorded images of Brett Hauser, of late a priest of Rome, screaming into a cloth gag, tightly restrained in a chair of torment.
From a distance of several hundred miles, indeed from his destination in London, Shareem could control the cameras in the torture chamber for live transmissions.
Now, in flight, he could control which recorded images from that very morning he wished to view. And view again.
With the TV remote clutched tightly in his right hand, Shareem alternated between images of Brett and the American Navy pilot slave Ballard. How gorgeous they were, even with blood still trickling from their nipples and earlobes down over their bodies.
Shareem writhed in his own way as his slaves slowly and expertly brought his cock to an explosive orgasm, and the sight of Brett, naked, hairless, glistening with sweat, his nipples and earlobes excruciatingly pierced with the steel rings of slavery, added to his frenzy. Katib and the overseers would use as much bandage as needed to absorb the blood and wipe the slaves' bodies clean.
When Shaareem met with the doctor and the slavemasters, he assigned Jullah the task of spraying the antibiotic lubricant on the rings every quarter hour and rotating them through the punch holes until the bleeding ceased. This would keep the piercings sterile and would prevent the healing process from causing the flesh to adhere to the rings. It was also screaming red torture.
How he had wanted to be with them in that room this morning, listening in person to the agonized cries for mercy, watching the actual gouging through tender flesh, and the insertion of the steel slave rings. And with that vision burning in his imagination, Shareem's cock exploded in spasms of ecstasy, and his two body slaves sucked all the harder. They brought him to orgasm twice more before he ejected them from his sleeping compartment, then Shareem stretched and twisted on his bed, feeling euphoric, letting the muffled roar of the plane's engines bathe his mind and body.
His plans for Brett and Ballard were progressing perfectly and on schedule, and he had to admit that the rapid compliance of captured auction slaves to their plight never failed to amaze and amuse him. They would all inevitably know beyond any doubt that they were property.
-0-
Shareem had comandeered a specially outfitted Royal Qassir Air Force 747-400 for a quick trip to London to meet with executives and managers of his many companies in Europe to review the current year at its closing and to finalize both short and long range plans for 2003. The meeting was more perfunctory than anything else. Shareem operated his companies on five year plans and the present cycle would end in 2004. But he knew the importance of his personal presence at the distribution of year end bonuses, and their excessive amounts insured silence on the part oh his directors and executives, but his real joy came from Mandrasat, and the sale of beautiful young men as newly trained slave meat, plus there were no end-of-the-year bonuses for anyone at Mandrasat.
The second and more appealing reason behind his trip to London was the acquisition of new slaves now being processed at his installation south of London before transport to Mandrasat. This huge plane he occupied as the sole passenger, was outfitted like a royal palace, complete with ample storage for a number of slave cages. Shareem arranged this flight through the Royal House of Qassir, thus guaranteeing his own as well as the plane's diplomatic immunity; there would be no customs inspection nor manifests to file. Ground transportation would carry diplomatic license plates as well. Shareem and his cargo would be eminently protected.
-0-
Trap Baited
Cash Collier had easily 'aced' his first semester final exams; and with the first half of his freshman year at South West Texas U. under his belt, and a good bet to be starting quarter back on next year's team, he was going to coast through the year end break, sleeping, partying, and maybe hopping down to Cancun for a week or two. It was a great life.
Cash's father, Ned Collier, fully approved of blowing off steam whenever the chance arose, and there was no better opportunity than semester break. He hadn't had the luck his son had with an athletic scholarship and a soft touch for a dad.
All through high school, Ned was wild, smart, athletic, and more sexy than girls could hope for. By his sophomore year, he was six foot four, a hundred ninety pounds, and irresistible, and in his senior year, he knocked Kathleen Tomlenson up all the way to pregnancy.
Ned's Achilles Heel was his extreme sense of responsibility; when Kathleen's pregnancy became known to him, he insisted on marrying her, even though this would derail his plans for the athletic scholarship he had received from South West Texas University. It would now be a long, hard haul to earn a degree in petrochemical engineering; he knew it, but he also knew without doubt that he could do it.
Kathleen never loved Ned for his own sake; she loved his dick. She loved to look at it, to stroke it, to suck it, and to feel it deep inside her. She wanted Ned's dick and Arnie Smyth's personality and prospects. Arnie's dad owned a huge car dealership and a local meat packing plant, and Arnie would finish college in four years with a degree in Business and on a path that would make him a very young millionaire.
Since she could not bear the thought of an abortion, Kathleen decided she would marry Ned secretly right after high school graduation; he could go to Lubbock, get a job and go to college part time if he wanted to; she would go live with relatives in El Paso, have the kid, give it up for adoption, and after a year or so apart, divorce Ned. She gave birth in January of 1984; it was a boy; the one thing she hadn't counted on was Ned's obstinacy about the adoption. He wanted to keep the boy; he agreed to the divorce, provided he got complete custody. Kathleen was more than agreeable, She could return home with no husband or kid and begin snaring Arnie Smyth.
Ned named his son 'Cash' to remind him how hard he was going to have to work to support them both and to see that the boy had a good future and whatever he needed to reach it. It took Ned six years of roustabouting in the oil fields and part timing in college to get his BS in chemistry. He prospered in his jobs and rose through the ranks to become a gang supervisor.
Recognizing his talents and abilities, the company he worked for agreed to pay for his master's program in exchange for a commitment to continue working for them for seven years. For Ned, this was a no-brainer, and in two years, he was a petrochemical engineer, and did the wine ever flow!
Cash grew up with a dad who loved him more than life itself; every free moment Ned could wrestle from his work, his studies, his chores, belonged to Cash and Cash alone. He wasn't above a sexual fling now and then to blow off steam, but there was no room for anyone else in Ned's life except for Cash. His folks sent him enough money every month to pay for baby sitters and child care and a little extra for fun with his son, and he continued receiving his regular salary.
Ned began his career in petrochemicals just after Cash's eighth birthday and his own midterm graduation.
A lot more money was flowing into Ned's bank account now, but a lot of time was draining out of his life; time that he wanted to spend with Cash. He considered the expression 'spending quality time' a lame excuse for absentee parents, but there was nothing he could do. He worked very hard to let Cash know how much he loved him, and Cash himself was more than bright enough to realize this and loved Ned in return. With everything that crammed their lives full, the seven year commitment to Ned's employer flew by, and when it was fulfilled, Cash was going on sixteen and quite a sensation in his own right at his high school.
He had inherited his dad's athletic prowess, his brains, and his spectacular good looks. Throughout his high school career, Cash was one of the top quarterbacks in the state and was a shoe in for a scholarship to South West Texas. Ned was bursting with pride, and Cash knew that all he had came from his dad's sacrifices.
They were always together and their pictures regularly appeared in newspapers and sports magazines all through Cash's high school years. The two of them looked like exceptionally handsome brothers, and most could not believe that they were father and son. A lot of people came to know about this father and son team; probably too many, for everything was about to change. -0-
With the 2002 Fall semester at South West Texas over, and the celebration of Christmas thankfully done with, Cash had nothing but time on his hands for the next five weeks. He'd hang with friends, party, pick up chicks, all the fun stuff he didn't have time for during school. A couple of days after Christmas, he was lolling around the house, thinking about going to Cancun and trolling for babes in bikinis, when the door bell knocked him out of his reverie; he padded to the door in his bare feet; a mailman was standing there with a special delivery letter that he asked Cash to sign for. It was addressed to his dad with the return addressed to Qassir Petroleum, Qassir City, The Kingdom of Qassir.
"Hm," Cash thought, "these guys must be so big, they don't even need a street address" But since Cash had never heard of the Kingdom of Qassir, he thought maybe the place was so small there wasn't any need for street addresses at all. He dropped the letter on the dining room table and thought no more about it until his dad came home, opened the letter, and gave out a howl that seemed to shake the house.
"Shit, Dad. What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing's wrong, Cash. You're just not going to believe what's in this letter."
"OK," Cash answered, "what's it all about?"
"An invitation, kid. An invitation to come and talk about a position with an oil company in the Persian Gulf."
"What kind of position," Cash demanded excitedly. "What do they want you to do?"
"Well," Ned responded, his eyes scanning the letter, "this Qassir Petroleum company wants me consider a position as a CADCAM Engineer."
"Which is?" Cash asked.
"Actually, it's a sort of teaching position they want me for, I guess. To work with their engineers in computer aided design and manufacture of the next generation drilling and exploration equipment. I've been doing a bit of that kind of work for the past couple of years. Wrote a paper on it a year or so ago. Remember?" Cash noded and Ned continued, "It's not field work, but it's pretty challenging."
"But Dad! The Persian Gulf?"
"It's OK. It's just an invitation to come and to look around, not to make any snap decisions. But I have to say, the pay scale is huge. That makes it a real tempting offer. Plus, if I decide to take them up on their invitation, there'll be two first class round trip tickets and a couple of day's lay over in London going and in Paris coming back."
"Wow? But why two tickets?"
"Because the Qassir Petroleum company invites you to come along with me."
"Wow!" Cash repeated himself. "When do we leave?'
"Let's see. Three days till the 30th, so if we leave then that puts us in London on New Years Eve. Apparently we'll be staying at one of the best hotels in London for five days and then off to Qassir. Waddya think, kiddo?"
"I think," Cash laughed, "I think I'd like to spend New Years Eve in London."
"All right, then. Let's get to it. I'll call them right now and accept their offer. London, here we come." -0-
Along with the two first class round trip tickets from Lubbock to Dallas to London to Qassir, came a daily itinerary with things they could do in London. There was also a chashier's check made out to Ned from The Royal Bank of Qassir in the amount of five thousand dollars, all delivered by special messenger first thing the next morning.
"To cover our expenses in London," Ned gasped. "This company's got to be something else!" -0-
They were met at Heathrow by a Rolls limo and a taciturn dark skinned Middle Eastern looking driver, and were whisked from the airport to the VIP entrance of their Park Lane hotel. A private elevator took them to the top floor and the Royal Suite.
"This place is humongous," Cash exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment.
Ned's predicament was what to give the bell man as a tip; he had never even thought of this degree of luxury let alone ever seen a place like this. He decided fifty pounds would be appropriate, although his stomach cringed. "With this kind of tip," he thought, "this guy makes almost as much as I do."
Cash was 'oohing' and 'ahhing' all over the place. "We've got two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and a couple of other rooms I'm not sure of," he laughed.
The view over London from the Royal Suite was spectacular, and totally mysterious to Ned and Cash. As they were walking from window to window, a doorbell rang.
"Jeeze," Cash yelped. "What's that?"
"The doorbell you nignog," Ned smiled heading to the front door. "What did you think it was?"
Standing at the door was a distinguished gentleman with short white hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes, resembling very much the limo driver. He was wearing a 'sort of' tuxedo, a black and white vest, but no coat, and carrying a silver tray with a coffee pot two cups and saucers, and a folded newspaper."
"Good morning, Mr. Collier," he said in a clipped accent. English, but not British. My name is Faran, and I am butler to this suite. I trust your flight from the United States was enjoyable."
"Very nice," Ned responded, overawed at having a real live butler serve him.
"If you require anything at all, Mr. Collier, please dial number 2 on the telephone, and I will come immediately."
"Thank you very much."
The butler laid his tray on a coffee table, gave a slight bow to Ned and quietly left the room.
After a few moments of staring at the closed door, Cash piped up saying, "That was unexpected. Let's dial 2 and order something."
"Go ahead, kiddo. Go crazy. I'm going to take a nice long nap and then a long hot shower. Tonight's New Years Eve and I don't expect to hit the hay again till dawn's early light. While you're ordering something for yourself, order me a ham sandwich on rye with mustard and pickles. Put it in the fridge. I'll eat it between my nap and my shower. See you later."
Ned disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door. Chase headed directly to the Room Service Menu lying next to the phone, his mouth watering. -0-
Their New Years holiday in London was turning out to be everything Cash could ever have wished for, a whirl of five star restaurants, hit musicals in the West End, privately conducted tours of the top historical sites, dance clubs galore, all arranged for them by Qassir Petroleum.
They had a limo available twenty-four hours a day; and each of the drivers looked Middle Eastern and spoke virtually not at all, which surprised Ned, but not to the point of pressing the issue. He and Cash hooked up with stunningly beautiful women every night, and that secluded VIP entrance at the hotel and private elevator to the Royal Suite came in mighty handy. Fucking such choice cunt kept Ned and Cash from ever noticing the small apertures in the four corners of each bedroom or the mini cams behind them, and they were so wrapped up in their London holiday that they were totally oblivious to the same in the four corners of each bathroom.
Midmorning on the fourth day of their trip, Faran entered the suite carrying his silver tray which bore a white envelope. Ned took it and thanked the butler, opened the envelope and began to read the note inside.
"Hey, Cash. Listen to this. You and I are invited to visit the London headquarters of Qassir Petroleum this afternoon, tour the facilities, and have tea with the high and mighty in the executive dining room.
How about that?"
"Well," Ned responded with a haughty tone, "I think it's about time they invited their next CADCAM Engineer to tea." They both burst out laughing.
"Get ready then; they're expecting us at one thirty and suggest we leave here no later than noon"
"Will do, sir, dressed to the T's." -0-
The headquarters of Qassir Petroleum was located on a large estate south of London in a massive country house. Extensive underground facilities beneath the house were hidden from view, and in no way disturbed the illusion that the entire estate was a retreat for some important and obscenely wealthy personage. Cash and Ned were duly impressed by the lengthy drive to the manor house after passing through security at the gates. When they entered the huge foyer, a butler greeted them and his two assistants took Cash's and Ned's overcoats.
The three servants must come from the same Middle Eastern country as Faran the hotel butler. All spoke with the same clipped English-but-not-British accent. "Apparently," Ned thought, "Qassir Petroleum must staff its foreign facilities with nationals from Qassir itself."
Leading the way, the house butler accompanied Ned and Cash up a flight of ornate marble stairs and down a plushly carpeted hallway, its walls lined with original and expensive art work. He knocked lightly on a gleaming teak wood door, opened it and gestured Ned and Cash inside.
Ned was used to entering and working in expensive executive offices, but this one of Qassir Petroleum might possibly surpass anything any U.S. billionaire might create for himself. A strikingly handsome middle aged gentleman sitting behind a huge mahogany desk rose as they entered. He was tall, but not as tall as either Ned or Cash, lean with dark skin and short cropped black hair, streaked with silver.
"Welcome, my friends," he said standing up, but without moving from behind the desk "My name is Shareem."
"Their photos do not do justice to these two specimens, " he thought. "One would never know an eighteen year difference lies between them." The mental image of Ned and Cash stripped naked, hairless from head to foot, pierced with slave rings as the two back at Mandrasat had just been, aroused Shareem and he bent slightly over his desk until he regained control of his stiffening cock.
"Please, take a seat. I'm happy that you were able to accept our invitation to come to London and Qassir to discuss possible employment with us."
"Thank you," Ned responded, as he and Cash took their seats in exquisitely fashioned leather chairs, "I'm sure you know that I've got a couple of years experience with designing and controlling the manufacture of research equipment."
"One thing I truly like about Americans," Shareem grinned, "is the way you get right to the point without wasting time," then Shareem laughed. "I was referred to the article you wrote in 'Petroleum' a year or so ago," he commented sitting down in his own high back executive chair. "And I think," he continued with a slight smile crossing his face, "you are just what I've been looking for. I've asked a couple of our own engineers to come and join us in a little while to discuss the research and development facilities we have here and in Qassir." Shareem then pressed a button under the edge of his desk. "Meanwhile, you and I should talk about the more practical aspects of the position we're offering you."
At that moment, a tall, lean, graciously smiling young Arab fellow entered Shareem's office through a side door hidden in the wainscoting.
"Gentlemen, this is my executive assistant, Tariq.' Shareem hid his distaste at calling Ned and Cash "gentlemen."
"I don't want to subject your son needlessly to the boring and endless details of Qassir contract law or the ins and outs of CADCAM Engineering," Shareem chuckled, "however, Tariq is an excellent and knowledgeable tour guide for this facility and we have many interesting projects underway in our research labs that he would be happy to show your son." Shareem would rather have said, "your whelp."
"What do you say, son," Ned asked. "You up for a little sight seeing?"
"Yeah! Sure," Cash answered quickly sliding his chair back and standing up, happy to avoid an afternoon filled with the jargon of engineers and technicians.
Tariq gave Cash a killer smile and gestured toward the door saying, "Then let us go."
After Cash and Tariq exited Shareem's office, he again pressed the button under the edge of his desk and the butler who had first met Ned and Cash entered the room by the same door as Tariq.
"Hamid," Shareem said, addressing the butler, "please bring us a pot of that wonderful Ethiopian coffee our guests find so entrancing. I think," he continued, turning to Ned sitting across the desk from him, "that you will find this blend exquisite."
"Wonderful." Ned was beginning to feel more at ease in Shareem's company.
They spent the next twenty or so minutes talking about many things: Ned's current employer, his experience in the fields as a roustabout, Cash's high school career, his athletic accomplishments. Ned found Shareem very interested in his and Cash's athleticism, Ned's secrets for looking as young and strong and virile as Cash. Ned laughed at that last query.
Shareem's butler entered the room as silently as he had before and set a silver tray bearing a silver coffee service on a table to the side of Shareem's desk.
"One lump or two," Shareem asked nonchalantly.
"Two," Ned replied.
"Excellent!" Shareem thought.
Hamid poured Ned's coffee and dropped two sugar cubes into it with silver tongs. Shareem took his coffee without sugar or cream. Hamid bowed and left.
Shareem continued talking about the excellent physical condition Ned and Cash enjoyed. "Do you do much physical exercise together?"
"Sometimes we run together," Ned said sipping his coffee. "This is really a delicious blend. You said it was Ethiopian?"
"Yes," Shareem answered. "I have it blended with a few other strains, but basically it is Ethiopian."
Shareem watched Ned closely as he finished his coffee, placed the cup on the desk and slid back relaxed into his chair.
"I guess I'm starting to feel the effects of delayed jet lag," he said slowly in a slightly raspy voice. "Been so busy having a blast in London, I didn't notice," he yawned. "Excuse me, Mr. Shareem. I don't know what's come over me."
Shareem pressed the button under his desk top for a third time.
"Funny. I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton."
Ned's mind was working, but his hold on his body was slowly slipping away. He was aware of his body, but he had no control over it. His arms fell over the sides of his chair and his head slumped to his right shoulder.
The door in the wainscot opened again, only this time it was a double door and no attempt was made to open it silently. Six men in military fatigues and combat boots rushed into Shareem's office, one of them pushing a large hospital type gurney.
Five of these guards dragged Ned to the floor. He wanted to struggle, but his body would not obey; he wanted to shout, but his tongue was mute. His only sensation was panic. The guards began ripping off his clothes. He was aware his tie had been jerked loose and with his suit coat, dress shirt and tee shirt dragged over his head and down his arms; he knew his shoes and socks were being pulled off, and his trousers and briefs yanked down his legs and over his feet. He knew in his panic that he had been stripped naked, but any bodily reaction was beyond his control.
He was hoisted up and strapped to the gurney. Sight and sound were the only senses operating; he could feel nothing nor move his body. He could make no sound. Shareem came and stood by the gurney, looking down smiling on his prisoner. He began to draw his left hand back and forth across Ned's chest, pinching his plump nipples, then down over his belly.
Ned knew what Shareem was doing to him, but that was the extent of his response. Shareem cupped Ned's hefty cock and balls in his hands and began rubbing and twisting and tugging on them. In his mind, Ned was horrified. In his panic, he was terrified.
One of the guards came and stood by the gurney opposite Shareem. He held a hypodermic needle in his hand, and when Shareem nodded, he shoved it into Ned's right arm. In a few moments, Ned became aware of a whirling in his mind, as though his consciousness were spinning faster and faster, and then he spun out into the darkness and was gone. -0-
Consciousness returned to Ned's brain like a deep winter dawn, pale, shrouded, muffled. Nothing to hear or see in any clear fashion. Slowly light and sound began rotating into the center of Ned's eyes and awareness. His head hurt and he felt cold; his vision was too blurry to isolate and focus. He closed his eyes and slipped back into semi-consciousness until a searing, fiery pain tore through his body, wrenching him fully awake, howling from a mouth fully restored.
When the blinding pain slashing him subsided, he found he was looking into the face of one of the guards who had burst into Shareem's office and taken him; the man was stripped to the waist, wearing only low slung fatigue trousers and loose untied combat boots. He was holding a long, narrow, metal wand in his hand and a malevolent smile on his face.
"This is electric shocker," he said in an almost incomprehensible accent. "Feel it again," and he jabbed the end of the metal wand into Ned's left nipple, detonating a second explosion of gut throttling agony. Ned screamed again. "Next time," the guard laughed derisively, "we hit your balls."
Before his tormentor turned and walked away from him, Ned realized his arms were stretched above his head, his wrists shackled together and attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling. His legs were spread wide apart, and his ankles were anchored to the floor. He was bathed in sweat from the pain still coursing through his body, and when the guard stepped away, Ned cried out again, but from a different pain, from his anguished mind, not his tortured body.
Cash was suspended ten feet in front of him in the same way, stripped naked, his arms stretched above his head, his legs spread wide, and Ned saw in stark horror that his son had been denuded of all his body hair from head to foot, and a steel ring hung around his neck. A cloth gag had been shoved into his mouth and tied behind the back of his head.
Ned twisted and strained against his restraints, screaming his son's name over and over. The guard who had tortured Ned with his electric shocker walked up to Cash, the metal wand in his hand. He turned his head toward Ned and shouted over Ned's cries, "See how this one likes electric shocker," and he hit Cash in the belly with the end of his wand.
The youth convulsed against the chains and shackles restraining him and screamed into his gag. Ned howled as loud as he could, "No. No. No. No. No." And the guard guffawed loudly and struck Cash again on his right nipple.
"What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing this for?" Ned cried and Cash kept screaming over and over.
Suddenly a voice roared over a PA system, "Silence! Silence or I will have my guards use their electric prods on the tenderest parts of your bodies. Do you understand?"
"Why are you doing this?" Ned screamed again, and again the guard hit Cash midway between his navel and his cock.
"If you speak again," the voice over the PA thundered, "I will have your young whelp tortured with prods for an hour."
Ned bit his lip to keep Cash safe from the voice's savage threat. He could hear his son groaning as his body was lacerated with bolts of agony. After several moments, the voice spoke again when Cash's cries subsided.
"This is Shareem, and if you so much as grunt, that whimpering whelp of yours will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?"
Still biting his lip, Ned slowly nodded his head and desperately looked around this torture chamber and saw a large window build into the wall at his far left with Shareem standing behind it.
"You two are my slaves," he growled. "I own you and I can do whatever I want with you, and you will do everything I command you to do or you will feel the agony of my prods biting into your flesh. Do you understand that?
Again Ned nodded his head slowly and silently. Cash was still wrapped in pain and did not respond.
"Your lives as you knew them are over forever," Shareem snarled. "No one knows where you are or will ever discover your whereabouts. All traces of your connection with me have been eradicated. Your seats on tomorrow's flight to Qassir will be occupied, your credit cards will be used throughout the Kingdom and the Arab Emerates, then the two of you will fly to Myanmar for a wilderness adventure, and all traces of you will disappear. Now it is time to test your ability to be slaves."
Shaeem spoke his own language bruskly into his microphone, and a second guard also stripped to the waist joined the one standing at Cash's side. This guard too carried an electric prod.
"The first thing you need to know as slaves is that you no longer have names. You will be called 'slave' from this moment on, throughout your lives, until the moment of your death. But so that you may become accustomed to your new identities," he sneared, "I will call you 'older slave' and 'younger slave'. So let us begin."
Again Shareem spoke his own language over the PA system, and five more half naked guards trotted to Ned and stood surrounding him; two held electric prods.
"I will now have the guards release you from your restraints, older slave, but hear me well, if you struggle or try to break free, the younger slave will die horribly in a whirlwind of electric fire. Do you understand me?"
Ned again nodded his head, and the guards began to unhook his wrists from the ceiling chain and his ankles from the floor clamps; when his arms were free, they unshackled his wrists."
"Down on your hands and knees, slave"
Ned complied in silence.
"The younger slave across from you has suffered much because of you; would you not agree?"
Ned nodded his assent.
"Good. I'm glad you see it that way because you are now going to atone for the pain you have caused him. Crawl over to him on your hands and knees, then kneel in front of him."
Ned slowly did what he was told, the rough cement floor biting into his knees and the palms of his hands; he dreaded what Shareem's next command might be. When he was in place, on his knees in front of Cash, "Now," Shareem gloated, "suck his young, silky cock."
Ned was stunned and horrified.
"Do it," Shareem commanded, "or you will forever hear this one's dying screams."
Tears welled up in both Ned's and Cash's eyes, and Ned slowly shook his head in disbelief. How could they possibly have come to this end?
"Do it, slave, or be prepared to see the young one convulse in agony until he dies. Stroke his body. Kiss his cock. Lick it. Blow on it. Slide your hands over his satin smooth buttocks. Reach up and play with his nipples just as my whores did for you these past three nights. Now suck his cock and give this slave a taste of ecstasy>"
Ned had no choice. He couldn't let Shareem torture his son to death. He had to do what he was told to do. He had to suck his son's cock. He looked up into Cash's face and their eyes connected. Tears ran down their cheeks as Ned rotated his hands over Cash's hips and buttocks. Slowly he slid his lips over Cash's cockhead and began to suck on it as he slid his mouth down its base.
Cash hung a huge, thick cock, and Ned could feel his cheeks begin to bulge as it began to stiffen.
"Suck it down your throat," Shareem commanded, "and do not let any of the young slave's warm juice run out of your mouth. Swallow it all, or he will suffer."
Ned grasped Cash's hips with his huge hands and began to rock his son's body back and forth while sucking his mouth tight around his cock, gouging its underside with his tongue and forcing his mouth down again and again to the hairless, glistening crotch before him.
Instinctively, Ned began shoving his mouth faster and faster up and down the length of Cash's stiffening fuck muscle, swallowing hard; his cheeks sucked in tight around, the hot, throbbing cock imprisoned within. The moans and twistings and glistening sweat on Cash's body went unnoticed as lust frenzy obscured Ned's revulsion to Shareem's command.
Ned's arms, locked solidly around Cash's waist, held the boy immovable, and with his fingers digging into into his flesh, Cash surrendered to the incendiary lust consuming him, his cock spitting ropes of hot cum into his father's mouth and gulping throat. Orgiastic spasms convulsed the youngster's body; Ned greedily sucked the man-boy's rigid, satin smooth fuck tube; both minds inflamed beyond reason; neither able to rise above the insane carving to writhe against naked flesh.
The horror of this deed will soon enough come to them and be etched on their minds along with as endless procession of monstrous horrors beyond imagining.
End of Chapter 24