The Instrument

THE INSTRUMENT

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part Seventeen

The so-called "training master" isn't a master at all, of course - no free man would want to spend his days in the company of all the sweaty slaves being exercised into shape: it's just a convenient way of referring to him, as he has total charge of the gym and all the other apparatus that we use. He's a big nigga - and when I say big, I mean big, really big - not only is he taller than me even, but he's broad, and very muscled. I know him quite well as I suppose you could regard him as one of my "direct reports" - he's one of the slaves, like the head of the household slaves, who reports to me and has responsibility for a particular sphere of the operation of the demesne. Of course it was easier when I was a free man as there was never any doubt that I could order him around, and

I thought I might have some trouble with him once I returned to my job - he had, after all, been in charge of exercising me to turn me into a pony slave, and I'd

often been caned and tawsed by him as he ensured that I quickly put on the power and speed necessary to "match" me with Jason. But my fears were groundless:

once I was reinstated he put his huge arm around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be good to have you back in charge, Steve", he told me. "It was getting hard to properly work on and discipline all the other slaves when that Marc was here - he had no interest in it, and I thought at one time he was actually going to give up training altogether, and then I'd be put back into a coffle...."

I gave a little laugh, and extricated myself from him.

Of course when I was a free man there was no way he would have dared touch me like that, or call me "Steve", but now we were after all both theoretically the same. I hated having his sweat all over my crisp polo shirt, but there was little I could do about it and I continued "Don't you worry about that, Winston! It's normal service again now, and, as you know, our master likes to see all the slaves fit and strong and as I get around the place and see those who have let themselves go a bit, I think you'll find you're actually overworked. And don't worry about being put into a coffle - with a body like yours we'd use you as a dray or something anyway! Or perhaps as a stud......"

Winston was justifiably proud of his body and would happily have worked naked as he relished displaying his physique to the envy of other men. But in order to differentiate him from the mass of slaves, I had always insisted that he wore a "uniform" and had suggested that he wore a polo and slave shorts to mark his status. But he hadn't liked that, and, over time, the "uniform" had been whittled away so that he could still claim to be obeying my orders whilst satisfying his need for "display". So he stood there by me now in the tiny white loincloth that he thought constituted a "uniform" and that barely concealed his massive genitals, and at the mention of the word "stud" he now pulled it to one side, and burst out laughing.

"You can't use me as a stud, Steve! Look at this - it would take so long to soften the bitches up before they could take this that everyone would get bored waiting. If I tried to 'cover' them quickly they'd get torn and battered....."

"You're right, Winston! If we ever retire you from being training master, it's going to have to be service as a dray for you". I carried on smiling as I said this, as I needed Winston's active co-operation. But, actually, he was right: choosing a slave as a stud is difficult. Most owners assume that all they need to do is find a very big, very strong slave, and that the studding process will then make it likely that the progeny will inherit some of the sire's characteristics and produce a next generation of hard workers. But in selecting for a large, heavily-muscled body on a stud, you also tend to get large, fat cocks and this can, as Winston rightly said, cause problems for the bitches. Of course you don't want a stud with a small cock, as you want the progeny to "look good" when they're working, and so you don't want to risk breeding small cocks into your herd. So it's a matter of balance: a good, big, strong body, but a "reasonable" cock is what you're looking for in a stud, and on those criteria, Winston failed spectacularly as his cock was so very, very, big. On the other hand, I mused, if he did not perform properly as a training master, there would be a certain pleasure in seeing him sweating and straining, totally naked, along with a team of drays, and I made a mental note to myself of this.

I pushed Jamie forward now, and seeing the boy Winston of course knew what he was there for. "Ha, a new slave to train!", he began. "I haven't had a nice young tender boy like this for a long time.... It will be a pleasure to start to build him up - but he looks a bit feisty to me.... So what's his job to be? If he's going to work in the palace I can't use the whip as the scars on his back are always there afterwards....."

"Listen, Winston, this is my boy...."

"You sly dog, Steve! Picking the sweetest meat for yourself! So you want his body nice and hard, so he's good to touch, but not damaged..... And do you want me to stretch him a bit, so that he's more than ready for you....?" As he said this, Winston reached under his loincloth and stroked his cock suggestively.

"No! Absolutely not! Look, he isn't my 'boy' like that... He's my son!"

Winston's big black hand gripped Jamie's shoulder and he held the boy away from him a little. "Hey, Steve.... Well done! I can see the family likeness now....." He pulled Jamie's tunic up, and went on "Yes, he certainly is like you - same nice long cock, well hung....."

Jamie wriggled, trying to get free, and was blushing furiously.

"Look, Winston, the Sheikh has said that Jamie has to be properly built up. As you can see, he's always taken care of himself as he's a strong young man.... But he needs that additional hard work that only you know how to give. I'm running him in the morning, so that ought to take care of his legs and thighs, but it's his upper body..... And I don't want him whipped, or even caned.... He's used to working out, and if you just show him the equipment, and guide him on the reps and so on...."

"It won't work, Steve! You know that. Our owner's always in a hurry, and if I'm not allowed to punish the boy, there's no incentive for him to put 101% of his effort in to it. We're not training for some college football team here, you know: this is serious stuff, turning out bodies that will please our owner...."

"No whips, no canes! And no cock either, Winston."

"Aw, Steve. Come on.... A boy like this, with your features, and a good body.... You know what our owner wants to do with him. Better to get him used to it now, get him stretched a bit, get him to understand that there's always pain when a cock first goes in, but that you can learn to take it, learn to enjoy it, turn the pain into pleasure.... Who better to do it than me?"

"Dad, what's he going on about?", Jamie cut in.

"Don't worry, son....", and then I snapped at Winston "Let's be clear about this: no whip, no cane, and no cock! The boy's willing, and he'll work just as hard as he's able."

I had a lot to get through that day, though, so as much as I'd have liked to stay and make sure all went well with Jamie, I could not afford the time. So I slapped Jamie affectionately on the shoulder and said "See you tonight, son - come back to my room when Winston here says you're free to go", then I looked at Winston again and added "....and take good care of him, Winston! You understand?"

"Sure, Steve. Don't worry. I'm used to 'bring on' young guys like this.... Don't worry... No harm will come to him."

"It had better not, Winston...." I finished, and strode off. It was one of the hardest things I'd done, as I knew something of the training methods Winston used on the slaves, and I was seriously concerned about the effects on Jamie. But there was nothing else I could do about it - the Sheikh had ordered Jamie to be toned up, and Winston was the guy who did that.

I have to say though that I was worried all afternoon about Jamie, and that made me cross and irritable and several of the coffles and departments I visited got the sharp end of my tongue, and had punishment orders made out against them. Jason got it, too - in my hurry to get around all the places I had to go, I was more than usually vigorous in my use of the carriage whip to '"encourage" him, and at one point he turned around as he was racing along and shouted "Stop it, Steve, I'm going as fast as I can...."

Well, that's what you get, I suppose, when the guy who's in charge of the place has been made a slave, as I had: previously I'd never have allowed Jason to shout out like that, and he'd have known that if he had dared to do so, he'd have felt the punishment cane later in the day. Still, he was right, I knew - I was being a bit unfair to him, so I did tone down my use of the whip just a little.

My day got worse, though, as one of the visits I had to make was to the Sheikh's nephew in the old harem, and of course the moment I went in I had to put up with his complaints and his sneering at me as a slave.

Then I had to strip off so he could "inspect" me - and you probably don't realise just how utterly humiliating it is to have another man running his hands over your whole body as he examines you like that (yes, I know it's really sensual when a lover does it, but when it's someone who is appraising you as if you were an animal, it's different). And, of course, once he'd done that, once he'd felt my thighs, ran his sweaty palms all over my flat belly, tweaked my nipples, and then stroked me to an erection, he wanted sex. And if being force fucked by a guy isn't bad enough, the bastard managed to make it even worse for me in that his routine was to require me to jerk off first - but not discretely, privately: oh no! As he sprawled on one of the silken divans, I had to kneel in front of him with my knees wide apart so that my tackle had maximum exposure. Then he liked me to have a straight back, with my butt resting on my heels as I knelt there, and then to begin to jerk off as he watched. He was very particular that I was to keep looking at him, and not at my dick as I worked away, so I could see him sneering at my efforts; and I had to position one hand under the end of my dick so that when I did shoot, all of it was caught. The second part of the whole humiliating process could then begin, on his command: I had to turn around so that my ass was facing him, press my forehead down to the ground so my ass was raised up, then reach back between my spread legs and lube myself with my cum! It was so fucking humiliating to know that he was watching as my finger slid in and out of my asshole, sliming it with my own cum.

He never bothered to speak to me as he then shed his robe, knelt behind me, shuffled forwards so that I could feel his hot skin against mine, and fucked me. Not one word. It wasn't a gentle fuck. He didn't play with my body or press his cock head against my sphincter and ease himself in - it was just a brutal, hard, thrust that made me cry out as much as I tried not to. He didn't care if it hurt, he wasn't concerned if I was enjoying it, it didn't matter - I was a slave, and my whole body was there for his enjoyment. And when he'd finished - today he withdrew before he'd shot his load so that he could stroke himself to a final climax and shoot his cum all along my back as I continued to kneel there - he totally ignored me. No kind words, not a joke, not a thank you: nothing.

I wasn't allowed to stay in the harem and shower afterwards - he just dismissed me curtly, ordering me to be back the following day - and I had to stumble out naked into the corridor, and then pull my clothes on over my sweat and cum-soaked skin in front of the passing slaves, as they tried to hide their laughter. It was horrible, as for the rest of the day the smell of my own body and his cum kept coming to me, and it made me in such a bad mood that poor Jason got more than he deserved again.

Jason was bitterly disappointed, too, when I dismissed him at the door of the palace and told him to sleep in the stables with the other ponies that night, and when he started to protest, I was really curt with him, snapping "Shut the fuck up, Jason! You're always complaining that you don't like me fucking you, so when I give you the opportunity to go and have some fun with the other ponies, just be grateful, will you!"

He went to say something else, and I went on "Maybe I ought to re-introduce the bit! At least then I wouldn't have to put up with your whining and complaining - shut the fuck up, or I'll have you silenced tomorrow. And get off to stables, like a pony should."

It wasn't right of me, I'll admit. And I felt particularly bad when I saw the reproachful look on Jason's face, as if he really did want to spend the night with me in spite of his usual complaints. But I was so worried about Jamie, and when I got to my room and found he wasn't there, I almost rushed out and over to the training area, to find out what the fuck was happening. But it's hard being a manager, being responsible and in charge - if Winston thought I didn't trust him, it would only make things worse in the future. So I threw myself on the bed and lay there impotently.

When he finally did appear, Jamie looked absolutely done in! I've seen guys come off the football field, off exercises in the marines, and stuff like that, and you expect to see them really tired and weary. Jamie was just like that, only more so. His whole body was kind of "slumped", and he just sagged onto the bed, lying half on, half off it, on his belly, with his head cradled in his arms.

"Come on, Jamie.... It can't have been as bad as that...."

"Shut the fuck up, dad! You don't know....."

"I do, son! A few months ago I was put through 'training' by Winston. And I've saved you from the worst of it...."

"It's your fault, dad, your fault I'm here, that they're doing all this to me...."

I'd been so worried about him, and hearing this all my pent-up emotion burst out. I lost my temper, grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet. Still gripping him I thrust my face at his and almost screamed "Listen, I'm doing my best! You've been brought here, it was nothing to do with me, and I'm trying to make the best of it...."

Jamie looked terrified at this outburst, and I knew I was in the wrong. I'd been tough on Jason all afternoon, and now here I was, the same way with Jamie. But he shouted "If you'd been a proper father, one living with mom, none of this would have happened!"

I released my tight grip on him, intending to say I was sorry, and pushed him backwards onto the bed.

Jamie fell, then leapt to his feet, shouting. "My ass, dad! That fucking hurts.....!"

We stood close again, so I turned him around and pulled up his tunic. His butt was a dark, dark red, and I was at once furious. "Jamie, I'm sorry... You heard me tell Winston not to cane you.... I'll have him punished tomorrow...."

"He didn't cane me., dad. It was worse."

"You don't know what you're saying, Jamie. There's nothing worse than a caning administered by Winston.... Well, except a whipping, and he certainly hasn't done that or you'd be covered in blood."

"Dad, he grabbed me, threw me across his knees, and spanked me!"

"With his hands?"

"Yes, with his hands!"

I began to calm down a bit. "Look, Jamie, a spanking with the hands isn't all that much of a big deal.... You're sore, I suppose, but there's no permanent damage...."

"It was disgusting, dad! Vile...."

"What do you mean?"

Jamie started to blush, his cheeks getting almost as beetroot a red as his butt. "Come on, son, you can tell me....", I murmured.

Jamie stood there, as if not knowing what to do, then sort of mumbled "Well, I was made to do all the stuff on the machines naked. I didn't have a scrap of clothing on. And when he grabbed me... Well, Winston only wears that little flimsy loincloth thing, as you know...."

"Yes, of course I know...."

Jamie's voice was so quiet that I could barely hear him, as he stammered "So I was naked, across his lap.... And as he spanked me, I felt it... I felt...."

He stopped, looking miserable, and I said quietly "Go on...."

"I felt his cock, dad. His cock, was thrusting up, into my belly, against mine...."

I began to chuckle, and Jamie looked really pissed off. "Oh Jamie, Jamie.... Look, it's only natural, isn't it? When you're spanking a guy's butt and he's across your knees, it's only natural to get an erection, isn't it? What else did you expect?"

"I don't know, dad! You fucking tell me! I've never spanked anyone, so how the fuck should I know?" He stopped for a moment, and went on "I do know it was disgusting, though! Having another guy's cock pressed into me like that. And.... And....."

"Yes?"

"I ended up covered in pre-cum! Winston's cock was leaking pre-cum, and it went all over me...."

Well, I couldn't help laughing, and Jamie just stood there, glaring at me. Above my smiles I said "Look, Jamie, things are different here. We punish guys who don't work as had as they could, punish them physically - and Winston was only doing his job, by spanking you. As I said, you're lucky you're my son, so at least it was only a spanking Winston usually likes to 'break in' new guys with a light use of the cane on the first day, as he says they remember it more and it makes them work harder afterwards - he only has to cane them once. And yes, you were exercising naked - so what? You've got nothing to be ashamed of, have you? You're very well set up, and most guys hung like you would be proud of it, not ashamed. And it's hot here, remember, so you don't need clothes to keep warm, and it's better to let the sweat evaporate off you. And yes, I expect Winston did get an erection: as I said, who wouldn't? Especially when he's got a nice ass like yours in front of him. And when you get an erection, you expect pre-cum, don't you? Especially as you said Winston's cock was rubbing against your body. It's only natural that it starts to get ready.... You're lucky he didn't shoot all over you!"

"Dad, it's not right...."

"Jamie, I don't want to hear any more. Try to understand, son, that things are different here. You've got to get used to men being men here." As I said this, I stripped off my clothes (and I knew from the change in expression on his face that Jamie could smell the sweat and cum on me), and went into the shower.

"Come on, Jamie: come and shower", I called. "You'll feel better, with Winston washed off you!"

Jamie hovered around outside, but I insisted he got into the shower with me. "This is another thing, Jamie - you've got to learn not to be embarrassed about showering with other guys."

"I'm not, dad - at school, after the match.... But you're my dad!"

"...and you're my son. We've got the same DNA. So what's wrong with being in the shower together?" As I said this I ran my soapy hands all over Jamie's body, and that did at least shut him up.

Afterwards, though, when we were in bed, he was still clinging to the far edge of the bed as if feeling our skin together was somehow wrong. And I guessed that he had difficulty in getting to sleep, as, unlike me, he hadn't had the opportunity to jerk off that day. Still, I thought, as I drifted in to sleep, he'll soon learn - he'll soon learn that a slave has no privacy, and that the things that men do naturally and mostly in private are all done publicly here.

The next two or three weeks followed this same pattern - I worked hard keeping things running, and got regularly fucked by the Sheikh's nephew. I banished Jason to the stables, in the hope that I could bond properly with Jamie, and Jamie spent his mornings running alongside Jason and then his afternoons working out with Winston. All I got for my trouble was a load of grief! As if being humiliatingly fucked by the nephew wasn't bad enough, I found myself without even the excitement of having Jason to fuck myself. And in response to Jamie being in my bed, I had to become kind of furtive - jerking off before he came back from his training, or sneaking back during the day when he was not there. I never found out what Jamie did for sex - certainly he was aroused a lot, as in the middle of the night when his grip on the edge of the mattress had slipped, he'd often roll against me in the bed and I'd find my body being "stabbed" by his rock-hard cock. The only person who seemed to be doing OK was Jason - banishing him to the stables was no big deal for him, as he promptly resumed fucking the drays. He was even blatant enough about it in the mornings when I went out to get into my card that he'd rub his dick suggestively, and tell me how sore he was getting from having to use it so much to satisfy the drays. I felt like taking the punishment cane to his ass, to remind him that it ought to be his asshole that was a little tender from my love making! I think that if I hadn't been so preoccupied with worrying about Jamie I'd perhaps have noticed that this was all "show" from Jason - he was bragging about all this sex, as he was hoping to make me feel jealous.

It couldn't last, of course. One morning the Sheikh summoned me to his audience chamber, and started to question me about the progress that Jamie was making. I tried to give answers that were both totally truthful, and yet evasive. So Jamie was making "satisfactory" progress; he was "developing his muscles well", and so on. I did not dare lie to the Sheikh, but, equally, I was desperately trying to postpone the date at which he would order Jamie to his bedchamber, to be ravished. It was silly, really, as I knew that the best I could hope for was a postponement - the Sheikh had brought Jamie here to use as a fuck toy, and there was no power that I possessed that could ultimately prevent it. And if the thought of Jamie having to ride the old man's cock was not bad enough, I couldn't help worrying what the future held for him after that: the Sheikh might choose to use him as a stud, or perhaps have him trained as a pony, like Jason, or, or course, and this was the terrifying prospect: he could simply give Jamie as a gift to one of his relations or business associates. There would be nothing I could do to prevent this, and I knew than that I'd probably never see my son again: both of us were just pieces of property, and it was the Sheikh who would dispose of our future as he pleased, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

The sheikh ended our conversation by saying, in that way he has that brooks absolutely no dissent "Well it sounds as if he is ready - bring him before me, after I have dined this evening."

I felt sick in my stomach as I heard these words, and every fibre of my being wanted me to scream "No, I'm not going to give my son to an old pervert....", but something held me back. I knew it was utterly futile:

once the Sheikh had commanded something, he never rescinded the order as he thought it made him look weak. Were I to argue with him all that would happen would that I would no longer be his Instrument, just a common slave, and then whatever small protection I might be able to offer Jamie would be lost. So I meekly assented, and left the audience chamber, bowing low as usual.

For the rest of the morning my mind was in turmoil. I thought about trying to escape, but as you know I'd outlined to Jamie why this was impossible and I knew it simply was not worth trying. I thought about going back to the Sheikh and asking him, no, begging him, to leave Jamie alone - but that would not work either: the Sheikh "knew", knew from a lifetime of having his way in everything, and from always owning slaves, totally owning them, that he had a right to use Jamie in whatever way he wanted. Indeed, he could probably not even see why I would be asking - after all, a slave exists only to serve his owner, and the Sheikh would naturally assume that Jamie would serve him in whatever was he was ordered. After hours of inner debate and turmoil I decided the only way I could help Jamie was to make it as easy for him as possible to take the Sheikh's cock - it was kind of inevitable that he would be used sooner or later, and now the time had come, all that was left to be done was to make it as comfortable for Jamie as possible.

Rather than have a long angry argument with Jamie I also decided that I would not tell him what was about to happen to him - he'd know soon enough, and there was simply no point in having him fret and worry for the rest of the say about it; it was going to happen, whatever he thought or said on the subject, so he might as well remain in ignorance, I thought. I did however decide that his "preparation" should be done by Winston and the slaves in the training centre, rather than by handing him over to the domestic slaves who normally prepared men for the Sheikh's service - at least in this way he might think it was part of the training, and so stave off his worry for some time.

I went to see Winston, making sure that the slaves being exercised did not see me (not all that difficult, actually, as they needed to remain very focussed on their exercises if they were to avoid punishment from the ever-present trainers and electronic sensors on the machines). He and I stood on a balcony looking down on to the training floor, and Winston, in that comradely way that I so much disliked, put his massive arm round my shoulders. "Do you remember, Steve? It's hard down there, isn't it?

Look at all the sweat flying off them, listen to their shrieks when the electricity cuts in, hear t he snap of the cane against bare skin.... does your body still ache when it's reminded of it, Steve? I enjoyed training you, you know: you tried to resist all the time, tried to let your will override mine, but in the end it was no use, was it? You ended up as a beautifully muscled slave."

As he said this, his massive hand snaked down under the hem of my polo, and I felt it's sweaty heat on my belly. "You're losing it now though, aren't you, Steve? I can no longer feel those lovely ridges we built up here...."

"Stop it, Winston! Get your fucking hands off me, or I'll....."

"Or you'll what, Steve? You're only a slave now, remember....."

"A Slave who has the ear of the Sheikh, Winston, as his Instrument! Now, get your fucking hands off me."

I shook him clear of me, and then went on, somewhat calmer "Anyway, I'm not in bad shape - all the time I spend in the office, you can't expect me to have the body of a pony or a worker.... There's not a lot of guys of my age who've got a body like mine...."

Winston began to laugh. "Oh, Steve, that's so fucking typical of you. You're still proud, still trying to control things.... Most slaves, if they were proper slaves, would say something like 'My body pleases my owner, and that is all that is required'. But you - no, you have your own views on it, don't you...?"

"Look, cut this crap, Winston. I'm not here to discuss me, but Jamie."

"A real chip off the old block, he is, Steve! Just like you - every day he comes here, and every day you can tell from the way that he does it that he resents having to strip off that tunic and allow me to inspect him. And then all the time he's exercising, he's always trying to 'beat' the machines, just like you: it's hard enough just to keep up with them, but that's not enough for him - no, he wants to be in control. Still, that's good - he's always working that bit harder, always pushing the limits, and he's really come on.... Look...."

Winston and I peered over the edge of the balcony and observed Jamie as he worked away. Of course I was used to seeing him naked in our room at night, but the sight of a very athletic, toned, well muscled young guy engaged in hard physical effort is something else!

In spite of him being my son, I couldn't help feeling my cock stir at the sheer eroticism of it - his superb buttocks thrashing away, his cock bouncing up and down, and the sheer perfection of his taut body in all its naked glory, together made a stunning sight.

"You've done well, as usual, Winston", I muttered. "But I think Jamie's training is over. He is ordered to appear before the Sheikh tonight...."

"Lucky man!", Winston exclaimed. "I wish I'd been born a master, so I could command such a perfect specimen to make himself available to me...."

"I'm worried though, Winston.... The boy's not experienced another man before...."

"He's no boy, Steve! He's sixteen, isn't he? And look at his physique... I'd say he was a man, a real man, if ever I saw one. And a man like that - well, the sooner he gets to understand just how much fun sex can be, the better! Once our owner has tired of him I wouldn't mind having a proper session with a man built like that myself - especially one as well hung as he is.... Another way in which he takes after you, Steve! I could do some more training, I could teach him things about how a body can get the most enjoyment from another man...."

"You will do no such thing, Winston! Now, I need....."

I gasped and almost fell over as Winston's hard elbow dug into my ribs. "Oh you're a sly one, Steve! So you're going to do all that yourself, are you? Keep this delicious piece of manflesh for yourself? I always thought that you and that Jason had a thing going, but I suppose the thought of a really young guy like that, especially when he's your son....."

"Don't be so fucking disgusting, Winston.... He's my son, as you said....."

"...and who better to teach a man the finer points of sex than his father? Before I was brought here, in my tribe it was always a man's older relatives who taught him the facts of life...."

"Yes, we do that, too.... The facts, but not the practice!"

"Then you whiteys are even more stupid that I thought.

There is no point in teaching a man the facts about sex - he needs to be shown, to have another loving man take his body and instruct it in the manly arts, in...."

"Shut the fuck up, Winston! I don't care what you niggas used to do in the jungle! I'm a civilised guy, and we don't do that."

"Well, more fool you. I think that the mark of civilisation is when men can deal with each other as equals, when one man can admire the body of another, can take a younger one to a quiet place and instruct him in how to use his body for maximum pleasure, to...."

"Look, I told you to shut the fuck up! Now, this is serious: he'd better stop exercising now, as it's going to be tough enough for him tonight as it is, and I don't want him in that totally exhausted state he's usually in when he leaves here."

Winston nodded. "....and I want you and the slaves here to prepare him: make like it's part of the normal exercise routine, or something, so he doesn't get worried - I don't want to turn him over to the normal palace slaves, but he needs all that stuff done that the Sheikh likes: after he's showered, make sure his balls are shaved smooth, trim his pubes - they're getting a bit unruly since he was last trimmed, when he arrived - and whilst you're at it, I guess you'd better shave down his ass crack, and around his hole....."

Winston nodded again. "And make sure none of you says anything about this, OK? It's just 'routine'. And absolutely no fucking him, of course. Then, when you're done, a nice massage, rub lots of slave oil in good and deep so he's got a nice sheen."

"There is one thing, Steve.... One thing that the palace slaves do.... You probably remember...."

Winston saw me looking puzzled, and added "...and shall we make sure he's clean inside, too? I seem to remember that the Sheikh likes to be cleaned up afterwards, and...."

"No! I hate all that enema stuff, and I don't want that for Jamie."

"So you'd rather he tasted his own shit, as he licks the Sheikh's prick clean?"

I felt myself crumple. The awful realisation of what was going to happen to Jamie was finally striking home to me. And I felt utterly powerless to do anything about it.

As I turned to leave, I finally muttered "Yes, I suppose he'd better be flushed out, too."

End Of Part Seventeen