MANDRASAT
Book One. Chapter One (cont'd): "The End Of The Beginning"
Bret awoke with a start, trembling as though from a bad dream, and tried to get out of bed, only he wasn't in bed. Confusion enveloped him like a cloak; something was not the way it was supposed to be. He was immobilize and in total darkness. Faintly at the edges of his mind, a throbbing began to inch its way across his consciousness, bringing with it an overwhelming fear. He could not make sense out of his predicament, no light, paralyzed, terrified, a throbbing that was now a burning engulfing his body.
The blackness around him was so complete, he blinked his eyes rapidly to make sure he wasn't squeezing them shut; trying to move, he discovered he was standing upright, fixed in place, restrained at wrists and ankles. Struggling, he discovered he was tightly bound, spreadeagled; he cried out, but to no avail. A thick, course gag was jammed into his mouth and tied in place, and in an erupting terror, he discovered that a crisscrossing of metal strips was wedged on the top of his head. Again he screamed impotently into his gag.
He shook with mindless terror, his whole body now consumed with a pain that wrenched terrible images buried in his memory, and he saw with horrifying clarity the bestial atrocities wreaked upon his person, the beatings, the gang rape, Tariq, Mustafa, and his hold on consciousness, on life, began to evaporate, to fall away. With no other avenue open to him, he sobbed uncontrollably into his gag. Terror and reason fought for domination. His mind and his will screamed for help.
After a few moments of sheer panic, reason slowly began to surface in his tortured mind; inspite of the pain, inspite of the fear, he had to know his situation. He had already ascertained that he was standing upright, spread-eagle, restrained at ankles and wrists; a glaze of sweat over his entire body told him that he was naked and the crisscrossing metal straps on his bald head recalled for him that he had been denuded of all body hair. The horror of his circumstance was almost too much to bear.
Suddenly, a sliver of light pierced the endless darkness, across the floor in front of him. Then in the distance, the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by voices, drawing closer and louder. Reflexively he tried to cry out but the gag prevented him. The voices stopped outside the door and there was an audible click, then a door above the sliver of light burst open. A massive tidal wave of light exploded over him, and he could barely make out the silhouettes of two people.
Seconds later the room was awash with the glare of four high wattage, unshielded lamps aimed directly at his face. The pain to his eyes made Bret scream into his gag and to writhe as he futilely tried to shade his eyes with his hands.
"Ah, my new slave has regained consciousness. Now, Zarak, would you bring him fully to his senses."
Shareem! Jesus God Almighty! The voice belonged to Shareem. Bret was not able to focus on whoever he spoke to, but he was horrified to remember this was his co-passenger and then his chief torturer.
A new and grating sound behind him startled and terrified him, water gushing against metal, followed next by the sound of metal being dragged across the floor. Then it hit him, violently. A wall of ice cold water crashed over his body, and as it streamed down his torso and legs, he realized with freezing certainty that he was indeed still naked and had been shaved head to foot. He forced his eyes open, but the pain from the glare of the lights made him close them almost immediately. The room's walls were covered in glistening white tiles and that reflection added to his pain.
"I think my slave is still sleepy." Shareem chuckled. "Let the tap run till it is good and cold, then try again."
The sound of running water pouring into the bucket again filled the room. Bret tried repeatedly to force his eyes open. Eventually he had some degree of success and he was rewarded with a most terrifying sight, a monster of a man, naked, dark skinned, hairless; filling a metal bucket. A few seconds later Bret managed a quick glimpse of the man as he threw the contents of the bucket into his face, and a thousand needles pounded against his skin as the frigid water cascaded over him to the floor.
"Ah, success," Shareem cried in mock joy. "He is wide awake now. Good! I want you to listen carefully, slave, to what I have to say. It will be very important to your future well being."
Bret could now see reasonably well through squinted eyes. Shareem stood behind what appeared to be a console, and the naked man was standing next to him. This dreadful apparition struck a new chord of fear in Bret's guts; the naked man appeared to be totally unconcerned that he was naked in the presence of a fully clothed man. In any event, he was making no attempt to cover his genitals, he just stood calmly, with his arms folded, like some sort of enormous two legged pet. The second thing apparent to Bret was how extremely ugly this naked giant was, ugly to the point of being riveting.
His face was severely disfigured and heavily pockmarked; his lips, large and thick, like the wax kind kids back home wear on Halloween; his jaw, oversized and protruding; his ears, ballooning on either side of his head. A number of his teeth were missing. This behemoth stood at least six foot ten inches tall, the largest man Bret could remember ever seeing close up. He must have weighed at least two hundred and eighty or ninety pounds. His entire body bulged with muscles, slab upon slab of muscles. Large gold rings hung from his thick, distended nipples, and slightly smaller ones from his ears, and a gold slave collar hung around his neck, but it was the size of the man's cock that stunned Bret; it was so huge, it didn't look real. more like a prosthetic than a massive, living organ. His balls, plainly visible, hung like two large eggs in their hairless sack.
Bret quickly realized that his attention was riveted on the man's enormous genitals, and, as he turned his head, he blinked his eyes rapidly to regain control. He was now looking directly at Shareem. He wore a loose fitting, brown sleeveless robe, revealing well developed biceps; the front of robe was open down the front, to midway between his navel and his crotch. Bret noted he was not bereft of body hair, but was heavily coated with it, reminding him of Mustafa and he felt that chill race through his guts, tickling his cock and balls.
"In case you do not remember my words to you in Colonel Mustafa's office," Shareem began, "your life, as you knew it, has ended. You are now and will be forever a slave. You have been transported here to my training facility where you will learn the skills necessary to be a good and proper slave.
"You will never speak unless you are given permission to speak; human beings speak their minds when they choose, slaves speak only at a master's command. You will not move a muscle, ever, unless you are ordered to do so; human beings come and go as they please; slaves do only what they are told to do. And you will remain naked for the rest of your life; human beings alone on this earth own their bodies, and only human beings have the right to wear clothes, slaves and dogs do not. Your body is for the pleasure of your master, and as with his prize hounds and thoroughbred horses, part of that pleasure is seeing and stroking the physical perfection to which I shall bring your body.
"Of course," he laughed, "your master will take other pleasures from your body in ways not easily available from hounds and horses.
"I trust," he continued, "that these examples will impress upon you sufficiently the difference between human beings and slaves. The price of forgetfulness is pain in the extreme. So, from this instant on, slave, when ordered to address me, you will call me Master or Master Shareem. More than likely you still do not believe what you are seeing and hearing, and will no doubt hope to escape or be rescued; however, let me assure you that escape, in any form, is not an option. To assist you in giving up any idea of flight, let me demonstrate how we enforce discipline here," he said, tapping some keys on the console.
Shareem slid his fingers across the face of the console, then punched one of the buttons. Almost immediately a door in the wall to Bret's left slid open and three men exploded into the room, two dark skinned Arabs and a white man whose hands were cuffed behind his back. The Arabs were struggling to push and shove the third one across the room. All three men were naked, tall, athletic, well muscled; they were also completely shaved, head to foot.
With much screaming and cursing, the captive put up a ferocious battle, kicking and head butting the two men trying to control him. The two Arabs were adorned with the same kind of gold ornamentation as Zarak, who himself, roaring like a wild animal, charged across the room to the three men and, shoving the two Arabs aside, grabbed the prisoner's balls, squeezing and twisting them. The man screamed in agony and all resistance ceased.
With the faintest trace of a smile curling his lips and addressing himself to the two Arabs, Shareem asked, "What have we here?"
Both men were breathing heavily, trying to catch their breath, but one managed a halting answer, "This slave refused a direct order from his Overseer, Master Shareem."
Without looking at either man, and continuing to let his fingers play across the surface of his console, Shareem questioned them further. "What was the order? Who is the Overseer, and did he specify a punishment?"
"He was ordered by Kasim, his Overseer, to kneel in front of a Nubian slave and suck his cock, but he attacked the Overseer instead, and it took all three of us to cuff him. Then Kasim ordered us to bring the slave to you for punishment."
Nodding his head as though deep in thought, Shareem walked slowly across the room to where Zarak had incapacitated the slave. Zarak, now snarling like a beast of prey, held the prisoner up on his toes by his balls and throat; the man struggled just to breath.
"I fear this crime calls for stern retribution," Shareem said softly, fingering the prisoner's nipples.
The man tried to say something, but Zarak squeezed harder at both ends; the poor wretch could not even scream, but only gurgle at the pain he was enduring.
"Your punishment," Shareem declared firmly, "will be five lashes a day for ten days. Zarak, secure him in the box." Then he turned and strode back to the console.
The prisoner moaned and tried to struggle, but Zarak was more powerful than all the men in the room put together and, with no more effort than an ordinary man would use to pull a chair away from a dinner table, he pulled the unfortunate slave toward a cage in front of the wall opposite Bret. He quickly and efficiently strapped the man upright and spread-eagle into the box, clamping a metal helmet of metal straps to the top of his head, then Shareem pushed a button on his console.
What Bret witnessed next unleashed a depth of terror he had not yet known; the prisoner screamed like a wild beast, writhing in agony and howling over and over and over. Shareem kept his finger on the button, and when he released it, the man slumped forward, still screeching aloud, his head hanging down to his chest, sweat pouring from his body; the cycle was then repeated four more times.
The whole scene looked surreal, bazaar, as though the man were play acting; there were no sounds except his screams, there was no movement except his convulsions, there were no marks, no wounds, no blood, yet he kept screaming until he could scream no more.
"This is one of your wonderful Western inventions," Shareem called to Bret sarcastically. "It is based on a neural stimulator that was originally designed as an instrument for the medical profession. With a few modifications, it produces the exact low frequency pulse required to stimulate every sensory nerve in the human body. Thus it causes the maximum amount of pain, without causing any physical damage to the victim. Is that not marvelous?"
Zarak walked to the box, unfastened the restraints from the man, pulled him out and dropped him onto the floor where he lay groaning.
"You see now what happens to defiant slaves," Shareem asked the unfortunate captive.
The man kept moaning and crawling slowly on his belly across the floor; Shareem motioned to Zarak with his head, and the giant stepped over to the man and viciously kicked him in the ribs shouting, "Answer Master Shareem you dog."
The man cried out in pain, and Shareem repeated his question.
"Yes, Master Shareem," the man sobbed. "I see what happens to defiant slaves."
"And will you remember, "Shareem continued, "when you come here for your punishment every day for the next nine days?"
"Oh, Master Shareem," the man begged, "please don't do this to me, not again."
Bret was stupefied by what he had witnessed and what he was now watching. . A physically powerful man, well over six feet tall, with a well defined muscular body, incredibly handsome even with his face twisted in pain, older than Bret by several years, groveling and crying for mercy, nor could he avoid focusing on the man's heavily hung genitals, irresistibly, his attention was drawn to the man's long and thick uncircumcised penis. Bret had never seen an uncircumcised penis before, at least not in the flesh. He'd known about circumcised cocks from pictures and classic, ancient statues.
Throughout his schooling, and even preparing for athletic competitions, Bret had always averted his eyes from the next man's tackle as much as possible, but not always. Realizing now that he was preoccupied with the man's hooded organ, he averted his eyes again.
"The punishment for your defiance," Shareem pronounced, " is five lashes a day for ten days. Defiance cannot go unpunished. What else am I to do?"
Bret caught the wink Shareem flashed at Zarak.
"Master Shareem," the man whimpered and crawled toward the console. "Master Shareem, I will do anything only please, not in the box again. Please, Master." The man was now on his hands and knees, sobbing, obviously still in pain.
Bret felt the fire from bile rising in his throat; he was shaking uncontrollably, sweating and terrified at what he had seen and heard. "Oh, God," his mind reeled, "what is this place. I'm in hell. I've died, and I'm in hell."
His attention was snapped back to the scene in front of him as Shareem shouted, "Slaves do not determine their own punishment," then after a pause, his voice dropping dramatically, he whispered "However, I think I am a reasonable and generous person; perhaps there is an alternative."
"Master Shareem," the man raised his head and pleaded, "I will do whatever you ask, only please don't put me back in the box."
"Zarak" Shareem snipped officiously, "do you remember any slave ever escaping the lash in exchange for some other form of punishment?"
Taking his cue from Shareem, Zarak answered, "Master, I do not remember any such thing ever happening. Our traditions about slave punishments are quite clear and ancient. The lash has always been the punishment slaves remember best."
"I wonder, " Shareem continued lightening his voice almost to a lilt. "Perhaps it is time to try something different," and with a benign smile spreading across his face he looked down at his slave and asked, "Do you think we should try something different?"
"Yes, Master. Tell me what you want me to do and I will do it."
"Very commendable, but if I choose an alternate punishment it is because I want it, not because you do. Now, slave, kneel up straight." Suppressing any thoughts of his pain, the slave complied instantly, and Shareem continued, "in exchange for five lashes a day for the next nine days, you are to suck Zarak's cock here and now."
The man gasped and slumped backwards, "No," he moaned. "Please no."
"If you choose to reject this alternative, slave," Shareem continued, "you will be lashed five times a day for twenty days, and this round today will not count at all.
The man doubled over, sobbing.
"What do you choose, slave? The lash for the next twenty days, or," Shareem paused then chuckled, "Zarak's adorable and appetizing cock?" Then he and Zarak laughed out loud.
Bret's shock knew no bounds as he continued to witness the scene before him, but his eyes were once again drawn to Zarak's massive, rising cock, and he was aghast to find his own beginning to stiffen in anticipation. A few moments passed, and the slave finally knelt up straight, tilted his head back, and opened his mouth.
"Very good, slave," Shareem chirped, "but I must warn you, if you do not swallow every drop of Zarak's warm and salty juice, you will take one lash for every time it spills from your mouth. And I will keep count" Then to reinforce his injunction, he punched the torture button on the console, and Bret's world and very being exploded in a searing fire ball of pain. Shareem kept his finger on the button over ten seconds, enjoying the intensity of Bret's muffled screams and ferocious convulsions.
No pain on earth could surpass the agonies shredding Bret's mind and body. Every cubic centimeter of flesh and bone was burning, creating an inferno through which he could neither see nor hear, nor think. His guts and heart and lungs were ablaze in sheets of fire. His smothered screams, hysterical cries for death, then in a sudden body wrenching convulsion, it stopped. The agony remained, surging through his limbs and torso, but the searing, mind devouring firestorm had ceased. He fell forward against his restraints, shuddering violently, sweating and crying into his gag.
"Just in case you have forgotten," he barked at the kneeling slave. Then, turning to Zarak he said, "Now."
Zarak smiled wickedly and stepped in front of the kneeling slave. He placed a giant hand behind the man's head and with the other, held his hardening cock straight out in front of him, then leaned forward and shoved it into the slave's mouth. The poor wretch's cheeks and eyes bulged, and he began to struggle as Zarak continued to press forward.
"Zarak," Shareem said with mock seriousness, "enjoy yourself, but please do not kill him. I expect him to bring a high price on the auction block." Then chuckling to himself, he walked from the console to Bret's cage and, standing next to him, began to slide his hand between his buttocks.
"Do you see how the slave would rather suck Zarak's monumental organ than endure the agony of the lash, but then you can certainly understand why?" Shareem was not asking Bret a question; he was making a statement of fact, and the fact was that Bret had better pay attention or he would feel that agony again, very soon.
"He is, by the way, one of your compatriots," Shareem continued in a jovial voice. "And not just any compatriot; he is a sailor, and not just any sailor, but an officer, a fighter pilot. Imagine," he gloated, "I own a priest slave and a fighter pilot slave.
"Do you wonder how a fighter pilot came to Mandrasat? Some of my slavers observed him running every morning at dawn on an empty country road outside of Qassir City, and one morning, they pretended their truck had broken down, and when this slave stopped to help them, they simply took him." Shareem laughed at the story.
"It was child's play for them to strip him naked on the spot, tie him up, and transport him here." Shareem began to finger Bret's hole, watching for any sign of resistance. Bret stiffened slightly against his restraints and shuffled his feet, but remained still.
"Good boy," Shareem cooed. "As soon as you and this one are accomplished sex slaves, I will have the two of you entertain my dinner guests. Now watch the show. Mount Zarak is ready to erupt." He laughed and started working his finger deeper into Bret's ass.
Bret's insides were strangled with knots of terror. As he watched the slave suck Zarak's huge cock, he saw himself sucking cock, Tariq's after he had driven it into his ass, the soldiers, one after the other, unable or unwilling to prevent his tongue from digging wildly into the fleshy underside of each cock and sliding his mouth forward and back on each shaft, burying his face in thick patches of cock hair. He could see each firm, rigid hose, like some primeval beast burrowing into his mouth, hard, hot, delicious.
In shock and despair, he shook his head violently, trembling as he saw his own cock stiff and rock hard, jutting toward the ceiling, unwanted, but the only wisp of pleasure in a horrid, darkened world.
"Suck, you filthy dog," Zarak shouted. "Suck so I can feel it or I will rip your ears off." Then Zarak clasped the slave's head between his hands as though he were going to crush it like an egg, threw his head back, growling and pumping his hips back and forth. Over a third of his cock was buried in the slave's mouth who had wrapped his arms around the giant's hips and was hanging on for the ride.
Suddenly, Zarak arched his back and rose up on the balls of his feet carrying the slave along into a half crouched, half bowed position. With his head thrown back, the giant bellowed like a bull elephant and exploded into the slave's mouth.
The man clung as tightly as he could to Zarak who was now himself writhing as cords of hot semen ripped through his cockhole, slamming into the back of the slave's mouth. The slave who had been a Navy fighter pilot gulped as furiously as he could, but he knew it was hopeless, and as Zarak's balls slapped his Adam's apple, he could feel cum spurting out of the corners of his mouth, splattering his face, chest, and Zarak's balls.
"Oh my," Shareem clucked. "He just can not seem to hold his cum, so it looks like your fellow American goes back into the box." He was now jabbing his finger into Sean's prostate, causing him to clench his teeth and groan, squirming as much has he could against his restraints. Beneath his robe, Shareem's own cock had grown as rigid as Bret's, and sweat glistened on his forehead, chest hair, and arm pits; his breath was heavy and rasping. He stepped in front of Bret and called to the two Arab slaves to join him as Zarak and his slave collapsed together onto the floor
The two ran across the room past Zarak and the slave and threw themselves at the feet of their master. They too were sweating and breathing heavily, their cocks stiff and hard as steel. He ordered them to remove his slippers and robe, and in a brief moment, he stood naked before Bret, his hands slowly stroking the full length of his prisoner's torso and hips..
Shareem was lean and muscular, amply covered with dense, black body hair, his cock, long and thick, heavily veined, its bulbous head straining at the end of its rigid shaft. Pressing himself tightly against Bret and embracing him with both arms, he devoured him with his own body, raking his hands across shoulders and buttocks, entwining their legs and writhing against Bret's naked flesh.
"I advise you," he said forcing himself to control his breathing, "to remember as vividly as you can how the lash felt as it caressed your flesh. Remember your convulsions. Remember your pain." Then he began to slide his body harder against Bret's, their cocks trapped, squeezed against each other between their bellies; both men groaning as bursts of pleasure detonated along each cockshaft and head.
Shareem raised himself up on his toes and bent his head forward, closing his mouth on the base of Bret's neck and sucking in a mouthful of flesh. Clamped as he was into his cage's restraints, and with Shareem's body virtually wrapped constrictor like around his, Bret was immobilized and could not resist the deluge of sensations pulsating from his cock throughout his body.
He grimaced at the heat rising from his balls, spreading through his groin, and building pressure below the base of his cock. He was going to explode. Suddenly, Shareem released him and, smirking, stepped back, denying Bret his orgasm. leaving him hanging in burning helplessness.
As he made his way back to the console Shareem paused and looked down at the fighter pilot slave. His cheeks were still bulging with Zarak's cum. He was obviously swirling it round with his tongue, trying to keep from swallowing, and looked up at Shareem pleadingly.
"Oh, you may swallow it now, slave," Shareem said indifferently, "then lick all that ran down onto Zarak's balls."
The slave gulped and swallowed grimacing, then crawled over to Zarak, and kneeling before him, his hands pressed against the giant's hips, diligently sucked his balls clean. When Zarak snarled, the slave jumped to his feet and scurried to the door. It opened as he approached and he disappeared through it.
"Well done, Zarek," Shareem chuckled. "Hardly a mark on him. Now I think we shall add some hard labor to his punishment, just to make the point a little clearer."
Shareem punched up the slave's dossier on his console monitor and said, "Currently, his daily training schedule includes pony training and the exercise pit in the morning, and sex training and road labor the rest of the day. For the time being," he addressed Zarak directly, "instruct his Overseer to have him yoked with a pod of Nubians into an eight-slave drayage team. Let the American fighter pilot haul farm carts ten hours a day for the next five days and feel the kiss of a bullwhip on his bare ass. Stable him with the Nubians, and let them know he is to be their fuck toy."
Then with visible satisfaction, he concluded, "Have him brought back here when his stint with the Nubians is over, and we will have him demonstrate what he has learned from them."
"That will be a pleasure to watch," Zarak responded.
"You're not going to be watching," Shareem giggled. "Whose cock do you think he'll be demonstrating on?"
Zarak grabbed his massive organ, shook it, and roared with laughter, then said, "I had best break in this new slave quickly before the other one's five days are up and I have nothing left for him to enjoy."
With an evil grin spreading across his face, Zarak turned slowly and sauntered toward Bret, exaggerating his walk and swinging his massive cock back and forth. "I think I can convince this one to be very cooperative," he said, and, stepping around the cage, removed Bret's gag and headgear, then, dragging his hands slowly along Bret's sides and hips, he stroked his body fully, pressing his massive cock into the cleft between Bret's buttocks and dragging his hands over and down his captive's chest and belly.
When he had finished and Bret shuddered on the verge of orgasm, Zarak stood squarely in front of him, his giant fists planted on his hips, his legs spread, and his cock hardening. Bret, focusing on his revulsion toward these two demons, struggled to keep from panicking. Suddenly and explosively, Zarak grabbed and twisted Bret's genitals; he screamed, fighting uselessly against his restraints. The giant kept increasing the pressure on his balls and cock.
"Do I have your attention, slave?" he roared. Gritting his teeth, Bret desperately shook his head yes. "Good, because I will not repeat these instructions. You will do what I command, when I command, and as I command. Do you understand this?" Zarak pulled Bret's cock and balls down and squeezed them tighter and Bret quickly gasped and wildly shook his head that, yes, he understood.
Zarak released Bret's tackle, turned and walked across the room to a wall closet and opened it, revealing an array of chains and restraints. He selected two sets of cuffs, shut the closet, and returned to Bret who was still shaking and sobbing with pain. Standing behind the prisoner, and under Shareem's amused gaze, he cuffed one wrist before releasing it from the restraint, released the other wrist, and then quickly secured them together behind Bret's back..
With Bret's wrists shackled, Zarak walked around the cage, knelt down, mouthed the tip of Bret's hardening cock for a few minutes, then removed his ankle restraints and, in another quickly executed move, cuffed his ankles together, and propelled himself explosively upwards, ramming himself into Bret's guts. With the wind abruptly and savagely knocked out of him, Bret gasped, doubling over and falling across Zarak's shoulder.
Howling in triumph, Zarak quickly stood up straight with Bret draped sack like over his right shoulder, then, before Bret could recover, he bent his right arm up and over, securing him in place.
"Marvelous," Shareem laughed in delight. "Just like a Neanderthal carrying off his mate."
Zarak turned his head toward Bret's upended buttocks and sank his teeth into a fleshy globe. Bret screeched in pain and Shareem laughed ecstatically. The giant threw his head back and roared again, stomping toward the door which slid open automatically or perhaps out of fear. Bret's struggles and shouts added to the overall pandemonium, and he cracked his head on the door frame as they passed through. Shareem stood at the console, shaking his head and chuckling heartily at the circus that had just exited the room.
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