THE INSTRUMENT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Four
It was a particularly busy time of year on the Sheikh's estates at that point, and in the next couple of weeks I had little time to focus on the soldiers, now slaves. Nor, indeed, on the boy Marc all that much. In any case, we have many guards and overseers on the estate, and one of them had been entrusted to the training of the soldiers, and the conversion of them into gifts that the Sheikh could give to his guests without the possible embarrassment of insulting them by offering them low quality slaves. As I did my rounds of the estate I did see them from time to time - they were being "bronzed" by doing their exercises out of doors in spite of the broiling sun (although they were slathered with sun block, as it was not of course the intention to damage them by causing them to burn). It's not all that difficult to exercise slaves like that, actually - for toughening the legs and the general heart and lungs all you need to do is to make them run - and with a collar around their necks and a chain joining them to the back of a small quad bike, that's not difficult at all. And to make sure that their upper body development was properly in proportion, you can get them to do something like swimming - well, not swimming exactly: you chain their ankles together with a heavy set of manacles and chains, and then drop them into deep water: in order not to drown they then have to paddle around endlessly with their arms, and that generally suffices.
The first couple of times I saw them they were looking decidedly dejected - although perhaps that's because they'd experienced the pain of the branding iron as it seared the traditional "S" into their butts. And, of course, the three of them who had previously retained their foreskins had now all been neatly and properly 'skinned, as befits a slave (the Sheikh , in common with most owners, likes to see his slaves' cock heads properly exposed, and it is not considered proper for a slave to be able to hide any part of himself from his owner).
The night of the Sheikh's big feast came up on me a little unexpectedly therefore, as I had not been deeply engaged in the preparations. That afternoon the Sheikh summoned me into his audience chamber and when he had finished his various telephone calls (as I waited patiently, at a kind of parade rest - not the formal one used by slaves, but nevertheless sufficiently still and semi-formal, to show my respect for him) he said to me "Steve, tonight I think my guests would like to see something a little special...."
"Yes, Highness - you are presenting them with the new slaves, as a gift...."
"Indeed, but that is to be by way of a finale. I want them to think that they have had a truly spectacular evening's entertainment, and then, when they believe that there could not be anything further to come, that is when I will give them their gifts. So before that there is to be the entertainment itself, and I have decided that they would relish seeing a virgin losing his cherry - the young slave, Marc - is that his name? - will do admirably."
"Yes, Highness, it is indeed Marc. And he is indeed still a virgin, as in accordance with your instructions we have been most careful to ensure that no cock has yet entered him. He is of course trained now in all the other arts of sex, but as yet his arse remains inviolate. But Highness, surely.... I thought he was being reserved for your personal pleasure...."
"And that was the plan, Steve. But when I see him from time to time I cannot help thinking that he is a particularly spectacular example of a young boy - no, a man, just on the cusp of maturity - and that he would therefore provide particularly exotic entertainment for my guests."
"But Highness, you surely cannot... You cannot 'perform' in front of your guests.... Your dignity, your prestige, your power...."
"Of course not! How could you even think such a thing? No, he will be deflowered by you. You will do it."
"Highness, I'm not sure...."
"Rubbish! Of course you will. It's not as if you are shy or bashful - think of how many times you have performed for me, as an entertainment."
"But Highness, that was just for you. There will be many men there tonight...."
"Indeed yes. And it will be a particular pleasure for them to see a free man perform, rather than just a slave. Most of them are used to having slaves engaged in sexual acts for their delectation, but no one has ever, to my knowledge, had a free man perform such acts in public before. It will be a further example of my power and prestige that a free man, and especially a free man as handsome and virile as you, is to perform."
"Highness, please, no...."
"Steve, you are not ashamed of your body, are you? A man like you, who keeps himself in shape, who is always exercising, where his musculature is a joy to behold, and whose sexual organs are so well formed and perfectly in proportion to the rest of his magnificent body.... Surely you are not ashamed of yourself, are you?"
"No, Highness. But you want me to fuck the boy in front of other men.... I would like to fuck him, of course. But fucking in front of other men is something else.... These things ought to be private."
"Indeed yes - if you were with a free man, you could exercise your choice and not do it in public. But the boy Marc is a slave. There is no harm in exposing a slave to public gaze."
"But I will be exposed too, Highness. Even though I keep my shirt on, they will see...."
"You will of course be naked. My guests will, as I said, want to see a free man performing, in all his glory...."
"No, Highness. You can't expect me.... "
"Enough! I have spoken. It is not a matter of choice for you - you are my employee, and you will do as I order."
"But sir, it is not reasonable for an employer to require one of his people to fuck in public...."
"Nonsense! On my last visit to London I went to a club, and there were many men performing for us. They were all employees, as slavery is not widespread in London. And I am asking you, no, I am telling you, that I expect no less."
"But Highness..."
"Enough! You will do as you are ordered. Now, make sure the boy is properly cleansed for tonight's performance - I find it very unaesthetic to see shit everywhere. And as an encore, I think you should get the boy to clean your cock with his tongue when you are finished - and I do not want him to sicken afterwards from the germs in excrement. And then there is the smell to consider - we will, after all, have eaten."
"Highness, please..."
"Enough, I said! I do not tolerate argument from slaves, and I do not think I should have to do so from my employees either."
I stood there in miserable silence, and he went on "As I said, the fact that you are a free man is part of the eroticism and excitement of the event, so it is important that my guests to know that you are not a slave. Consequently you will join us for dinner and then when we are moving on to the coffee, I will summon you forward into the centre, and you will begin."
"Is it a formal dinner, Highness? Your guests will no doubt be wearing traditional robes, but should I get the slaves to prepare my formal suit, and get out a tie..."
"I think it would be more interesting for my guests if they had the opportunity of enjoying your body for the entire evening. It will add an additional frisson of excitement to the spectacle if a free man is with them all the time, naked. So you will sit at the table unclothed, and of course at the reception beforehand you will mingle with them as a free man, even though you are exposed totally to them."
"NO! No, Highness, please.... Don't make me do that."
"As I have explained, your embarrassment is unnecessary, as you have a splendid body. And it is in any event irrelevant, as I have made a decision. But, on reflection, I think it might be more interesting, and indeed more erotic, to hide you somewhat before all is revealed when the boy is brought in. So you will dress in a loin cloth, just a small one, one that barely conceals your genitals... Conceals them but reveals them, if you understand me: when you are standing still they should not be on public display, but any movement should offer my guests brief, tantalising glimpses of what is to come."
He saw me about to protest again, and held up his hand in a gesture of silence. Then he continued "You are well bronzed, and so I think a pure white loin cloth will produce a good contrast. And around your waist a thin gold chain - let it be sufficiently lose so that it rests on those superb buttocks of yours and suggests that it might slip down at any moment. Then, when you have removed the cloth itself as you begin to fuck the boy, the gold chain will remain to add emphasis and interest to your rear."
I went to protest again, but he snapped "Enough! See to it. Now, go, and make sure the boy is well prepared. I want to see vigorous fucking, but it is important that when you enter him you do not damage him as he is a valuable property, a property that I intend to make full use of myself later in the evening. He is to be sufficiently tight that the entry of your cock causes him to scream and writhe with pain, but not so tight that any membranes are torn. See to it! Now, go."
As he said that the Sheikh picked up the telephone again, and I knew that further argument was useless - he was, as you know, a total and absolute ruler and was simply unaccustomed to the idea that anyone might oppose his ideas in any way.
I have to say that preparing the boy was not a particular pleasure - he had not experienced the enema nozzle before, and was most unhappy as I ordered him to bend over so I could insert it into him - he squirmed and moaned, even though it was well greased, and I have to say I felt a bit of sympathy for him: if he found this so uncomfortable, how was he going to be later, when my cock was thrusting his sphincter wide open?
As you probably know it's important to fill the gut with the washing fluid and then to hold it there for some few minutes if it is to do its work with maximum effectiveness, and I suppose it was vaguely amusing to see him hopping from foot to foot, desperate to relieve the pressure in his bowels, and with his normally flat belly now distended with the volume of liquid inside him. And then, when I did allow him to relieve himself, he hated the way the contents were expelled with such force that his feet and legs were splattered with it! And he was so naive that he failed to realise that we had to go through the entire cycle three more times, until the liquid flowing out from him was clean and sweet.
I was tempted to spend a very long time massaging his hole and really stretching him, but I remembered the Sheikh's instructions that he was to cry and writhe when he was entered - as you are all aware, I'm sure, it is possible to massage and stretch a guy so that your cock simply slides in almost without hindrance, but this was not the object of tonight's exercise and so I did the minimum necessary: a good quantity of oil, which should avoid tearing.
He knew that something special was about to happen, of course, and after these preparations I summoned one of the valet slaves to trim his hair again, cut his fingernails, and shave him once more so that he was totally smooth and his youthfulness was emphasised. I also decided that he should be "finished" with a sheen of slave oil all over him so that he positively glowed under the lamps.
My own preparations were more difficult. I had tentatively decided to ignore the Sheikh's commands about the loin cloth and wear my normal white polo and loose shorts to the dinner. Then when I came to fuck Marc, I'd simply drop the shorts and rely on the length of the polo shirt to give me some measure of modesty. But as I was about to leave the bathing area one of the valets bowed low and said humbly "Sir, are you ready for us to prepare you?"
"Of course not! I will shower in my quarters."
"But sir, the Master said that you were to be prepared too... He gave us instructions, sir."
"There is no need. I will shower and shave myself."
I went to push him aside, but the poor guy fell on his knees and was almost sobbing. "Oh please, sir, please let us prepare you. His Highness has ordered it. And if we do not, he might think we have disobeyed, and the punishment would be a whipping if we were lucky.... And if we were not, he might order us to be mutilated..."
"Nonsense. I will explain matters to his Highness."
"But sir, please... You may not have the opportunity. An overseer might come in, find you not here, and order us to be whipped...."
He was so terrified that I decided to relent, especially as Marc was looking alarmed when he saw how these slaves feared for the actions of the Sheikh. So I said casually "Oh all right - but be quick..."
The valets are good, of course. After I had showered (with them soaping my body, and shampooing my hair), I lay on a sloping table covered in a thick luxurious towel, and almost fell asleep as they massaged oil into my skin. I was so drowsy that I failed to notice until it was too late that they trimmed all the hair on my chest, and it was only after they had also reduced the size of my pubic bush and were beginning to shave my balls that I came to life (I suppose that a guy's fingers on your balls, however light and gentle, trigger some sort of survival reflex!).
"What the fuck....", I started.
"Sir, we were ordered, sir. The Master said that as you were to perform for him and his guests he wanted them all to have a good view, and so we are to trim you and shave you so that your cock and balls assume an even greater prominence." He lowered his voice as if conspiratorially, and went on "Not that you need it, sir. We see a lot of men here, and I can honestly say that very, very few are as well proportioned as you..."
"Well that's as may be, but stop this!"
"Sir, we can hardly leave you like this - half finished. It looks odd, sir, as we only have half of you trimmed...."
Well I suppose he was right, so I allowed them to finish, but then when they asked me to turn over, I went to get up. That only triggered fresh protests from them and they again professed to be terrified of their fate if they did not do as they were ordered. So I complied, and lay there, my face buried in my crossed arms, trying to relax, as they began work on me.
At first I didn't understand what they were doing, as I imagined they were just shaving a few of the stray hairs on my back, but if felt very sensuous as they worked on my butt, and it was too late to command them to stop when I felt the first touch of the razor running up and down my ass crack! They reassured me that it was "normal" to do this as the Sheikh did not like to see hairs protruding from a man's butt, so I let them get on with it - although I did think it was a bit odd as the Sheikh had never complained before about my hairy ass when I had been fucking one of the slaves in front of him.
Once they'd finished, though, and I stood up, they showed me my body in a big mirror. It was amazing the transformation that a bit of clipping here and there had made - my cock, always nicely sized, now looked much bigger, my balls were so prominent now as they swung there, and without the forest of chest hair around them my nips seemed somehow much more solid. Then, as I took a couple of steps, I was so surprised as my butt cheeks literally slid over each other - I guess we all get used to walking around with hairs in our ass cracks, and we never notice them. But once they are shaved away, and when your skin has been oiled, your butt cheeks slide over each other so sensuously that you become aware of your ass in a way that you never usually are. Mind you, trimmed and clipped like this I did start to look a little like a slave, rather than a free man. I fingered my cock, teasing my 'skin a bit, and was glad that at least this way I was different from all the naked slaves around me.
One of the valet slaves coughed politely and when I acknowledged him said "Shall we try on your costume now, sir?"
I felt like telling him to fuck off, as I had no plan to wear something humiliating. But I knew that if I did this he'd start begging and pleading again, and on the whole it seemed simpler to let them go ahead - after all I could always take it off later and get dressed in my polo and shorts. So I stood there as they fetched a thin chain of that very expensive looking dull gold, and draped it around my hips, and then fiddled adjusting its length so that it kind of lay on the top of my butt at the back, and yet plunged at the front so it was only just, only barely just, hovering above the line of the top of my pubes. It felt strangely cold against my skin at first, and the slaves indicated that they'd like to see me walk around to make sure it was "secure" and couldn't slip off, whilst at the same time not being so tight that it cut into my skin.
It felt really odd to be parading around in front of the slaves, almost as if I was putting on an exhibition for them. I could feel my butt cheeks sliding as I have told you, my newly prominent cock and balls were lurching up and down, and wearing only this thin chain it somehow felt really demeaning - I mean, when you're totally naked, that's it, isn't it? You're naked, and if you've got a good body, as I have, there's nothing really to be ashamed of. But a chain around your waist like that somehow turns you from being "naked" to "nude" - and kind of erotically nude, too. It was the sort of thing that strippers and rent boys might wear, so they could prance around in front of their customers in an effort to turn them on.
The slaves fiddled around a bit, adjusting the length until they were satisfied, and then did something to fasten the chain, at the back where I couldn't see. Next they produced a thin strip of very high quality silk - it was kind of heavy and shiny, and I suppose it was satin really, rather than raw silk. Hanging it over the chain at the front, they produced a pair of shears and neatly cut it off to length, and then asked me to take a look at myself in the mirror again. Well, I suppose you could say that from the front I was "decent", in that the strip of satin (which was not all that wide) hung down between my thighs and concealed my cock as I stood there. But it really was only just wide enough, and only just long enough, and as I made a slight movement I couldn't help but see a glimpse of my tackle in the mirror as the satin swung from side to side.
I thought they might but a strip down the back, too, to hide my ass crack, but apparently not. Still, I didn't care, as I had no intention of wearing it anyway. So I told them they'd done a good job, pulled the strip of satin off, and went to remove the thin chain, only to find that somehow the ends had been cemented closed, and I couldn't get it off - it could not pass over my butt, and clearly not up past my armpits, either.
"Don't worry, sir", one of the slaves said as he saw me tugging at it. "We've got the length just right for tonight, and afterwards we'll simply use shears to cut if off you - like that, fastened permanently, it's neater as there's no visible fastening."
Well, I wasn't sure, but what was I to do? So I shrugged, pulled on my shorts, polo and sandals, and went up to my room - one of the slaves hurrying after me to give me the strip of satin that I'd casually left behind. I thanked him, but of course I had no intention of wearing it.
Although it's not my direct responsibility as the Sheikh has a slave who's a kind of "major domo" to generally supervise and run the palace and its slaves, I went down early to make sure everything was running smoothly - this was, after all, a most important event for the Sheikh. As I expected, the palace was humming with activity, but all seemed on schedule - the reception chamber with its low couches with stables in front of them was perfect, a row of slaves stood with flaming torches to light the way from the palace gate to the entrance hall, and inside there were further slaves holding silver bowls of scented water so that guests could ritually wash their hands on entry. It's surprising what the constant threat of hard physical punishment can do to ensure that on occasions like this everyone is performing his duties thoroughly and properly!
I spoke to the major domo and he assured me that everything was in an equal state of readiness in the kitchens for the sumptuous banquet, that the waiters were all freshly shaved and their short white tunics were spotless and immaculate, and then he took me to see Marc - the boy was standing in an alcove in the reception chamber, a silver chain tethering him by one ankle to keep him there. Although there was no danger of his escape, the chain added a nice touch I thought, emphasising the helplessness of him. Taking me to one side the major domo indicated that the fucking horse was ready to be carried in when required, and that he had plans to have Marc's balls squeezed suddenly, very hard, as he was being carried to the horse so that he would scream and cry, and struggle to break free from the slaves who were holding him, in case they did it again. "I thought it would be exciting to see that the boy was unprepared for what was a bout to happen, and that his struggles would be a good prelude to the way he would buck and scream when your cock entered him", he confided.
"That will not be necessary. Bring the boy in quietly as it will heighten the mood of an innocent young man who is about t be violated. And it will not be necessary to use the fucking horse - although he has put on a lot of muscle in these past weeks, he's no match for my power and I intend to take him without mechanical restraints. I'll throw him to the floor, and then fuck him there: it will be more spontaneous, as the use of the horse is always a bit contrived, I think."
The man muttered "Yes, sir", but it was in a kind of sullen way as if he did not really agree with me, even though I was a free man. Had it not been for the importance of the occasion for the Sheikh and we did not want anything to go amiss, I'd have taken him out and caned the incipient disobedience out of him.
As I was finishing my inspection the Sheikh came down.
He stared at me for a moment and snapped "I gave orders for you to wear a loincloth, did I not?"
"Sir, yes, sir, but...."
"The only 'butt' I want from you, Steve, is a proper sight of yours as you provide tonight's entertainment.
Now, do as I command."
"Highness, please...."
"If you are going to wilfully disobey me and constantly dissemble, I may as well terminate your employment. I cannot run this estate with employees in whom I have no trust."
I felt a lurch in my belly as he uttered these words. I mean, I was earning a whole heap of money, and where else would I find employment that enabled me to exercise as much as I did, and enjoy a lifestyle where all my needs were found in such a sumptuous place? I went to protest again, but could tell that the Sheikh was in no mood for argument, and muttered instead "I apologise, Highness. I am only wearing these clothes whilst I make sure all is in readiness for your guests. I will change later...."
"Be sure you appear at the reception, Steve, from the start, dressed in the loincloth as I decided. It is part of the evening's spectacle for my guests to have the pleasure of seeing an almost naked free man - there is that something extra special about a free man who is displaying himself for other men's enjoyment, something that having a naked slave, however perfect his physique, cannot match."
I nodded and said, as humbly as I could o assuage his evident anger, "Of course, Highness. You will be obeyed.", and then when he made a dismissive gesture, turned and left.
Back in my room I stripped off and hung the hateful piece of white satin in place, and again looked at myself in a mirror. Actually, I suppose I was pretty stunning, and the thin chain did tend to emphasise the power of my body, and the thin strip of white swinging between my thighs emphasised just how flat my belly was as it was slung so low. If I'd been planning an evening's fun with a guy I liked I might actually have enjoyed wearing it to give him a bit of fun - but then when I thought about all the Sheikh's guests staring at me, and lusting after my flesh, and knowing that I was being made to appear before them so provocatively and humiliatingly, I began to get angry. How could the Sheikh humiliate me like this? Perhaps I ought to chuck it all in, take my accumulated back pay, and return home and find a "proper" job. But you get used to an easy, quiet life with a comfortable routine, don't you? So with a sigh I made my way downstairs, trying to hold my hands a little loosely in front of me as I did so in a vain hope of making my humiliation a little less severe.
In the reception hall I tried to position myself in an obscure corner, half hidden by one of the giant plants in their ornate tubs that served as the room's principal decoration. I could see Marc standing there in his alcove, fully exposed, though, and his nakedness was emphasised by the spotlight that was in the alcove that made him more brightly illuminated tan the room itself. Already the earlier arrivals were clustering around him, and although they were not touching him, I could tell from the way that their hands were moving that they would like to and were perhaps only waiting for the Sheikh's explicit permission. You could tell Marc was an expensive property - white boys of his age, physique and beauty were, after all, a great rarity, and the guests were perhaps concerned that they might in some way "spoil" such a treasure.
I scooped a glass of champagne off a passing waiter (the Sheikh himself said he was religious and himself observed the superstitions that went with it and refrained from touching alcohol, but could see no reason to deny his guests), and the slave whispered conspiratorially to me "They're in high spirits tonight, sir. My butt's been fondled so many times as I move around. I reckon they're looking to fuck...."
"Be silent!", I snapped, and to emphasise my point I lifted the back of his tunic and gave his butt a resounding slap - well, I mean, you can't have slaves commenting on the guests, whatever the guests do, can you?
Unfortunately the sound of my palm against his bare skin ricoched around the room, and attracted the Sheikh's attention. He beckoned me over to him, and of course I had to go, conscious of all the eyes in the room swivelling to look at my body as I strode towards him.
"Excellent, Steve! You are a delight to the eyes", he told me. "Do not deny my guests the pleasure of the sight of your body - some of them may have slaves who are muscled as you are, but it is most unusual for them to be rewarded by the sight of a free man voluntarily exposing himself to their gaze. So stop skulking in the corners, and circulate and talk to my guests - you know many of them, as they are regular visitors here."
"Sir, yes, sir", I muttered, thinking to myself just how "voluntary" this exposure was!
"Come, everyone", the Sheikh now said in a much louder voice. "I have an evening of surprises in store for you. Many of you have been admiring the young slave so fetchingly displayed in the alcove, and now here is Steve, who many of you will know as he is my chief Overseer."
The Sheikh motioned me to come closer to him, and when I stood by his side, he reached down and I felt his hand running over my butt - his fingers were smooth and vaguely cool against my skin (I suppose I was flushing with embarrassment, and a thin sheen of sweat was covering me), but at the same time I was aware of the large diamond ring he wore on his little finger. "See", he continued, "This is a truly excellent well-formed butt, one which we would all certainly appreciate on one of our slaves. But see - there is no brand: Steve is a free man, and is displaying himself to you tonight as it pleases me for him to do so."
Actually, I did wonder for a moment whether the Sheikh was boasting about my butt, or was doing this to cause all the men's eyes to look at his hand as it continued to rest on me - he did perhaps want them to see the magnificent diamond on his ring, a diamond worth many millions and which he had commissioned the theft of from an exhibition of the British crown jewels which had been on tour in the USA. All of these rich powerful men had an interest in possessions and display, and all would have been aware of the robbery, and would therefore see that the Sheikh was unafraid of the power of other nations.
He gave my butt a small pat to dismiss me, and watched, so that all the others did to, as I took a few paces away from him and unavoidably exposed my cock as I moved. I could hear murmurs of approval coming from the men, and felt a hot flush of shame spread up from my shoulders to my face at the thought of being used in this way.
The start of the banquet was announced then, and to some extend I began to feel a bit more comfortable - the Sheikh's guests reclined on the low couches as the slaves brought out one spectacular dish after another, and I was able to sit in a corner, cross-legged in front of one of the low tables, so that only my torso was on view to the rest of the room. Most of the guests were soon so absorbed with the food, and with fondling the slaves underneath their short tunics as they served them, that they seemed mostly to forget me.
My respite was relatively short lived, though, as of course the Sheikh had not forgotten his intentions! As the slaves were serving platters of assorted sweetmeats which are the traditional end of such a feast, he clapped is hands for silence and ordered Marc to be brought into the centre of the room.
"My friends", he began once the excited chatter that had arisen as Marc was put before them had stopped. "My friends, it is a tradition in our country that feasting should be followed by entertainment. And for your enjoyment tonight we have this young slave - he is sixteen years old, and as you can see, on that verge of full manhood. I had him captured and brought here after I had seen him during a foreign visit, and as yet he is unspoiled: he has been introduced to some of the arts of sex, proper sex, that is, with men, and he says that in his former life he had a girl friend of whom he had carnal knowledge. It is symptomatic of the decadence of the West that a young man like this should be despoiling those tender flowers of womanhood whom the prophet says we should revere, whilst at the same time was unaware of the way that men should behave together!"
There were a lot of cries of "shameful" and "disgraceful", and even stuff like "western barbarians", until the sheikh raised his hand for silence and then continued "But tonight, all that will change. He has never yet experienced the delights of full sex with another man and is still an anal virgin, and so now, here in front of you, he is going to experience the male organ entering him for the first time. "
There was a hubbub of noise again, now in approval, and again the Sheikh had to signal for silence. "I had thought of having one of my stud niggas taken from the breeding barns and put to him - they are all chosen, as I expect yours are, for their physiques and the power in their bodies to drive their cocks home repeatedly. It would perhaps be amusing to see a big black stud force himself in to this white boy. But I expect you have seen similar entertainments before, and may even use your own niggas for similar. I wish to entertain my guests with the exotic and rare, and so instead conceived of the idea of having another white male perform this important introduction to manhood with him."
I heard one of the younger, probably drunken, princleings shout out "So one white slave fucks another - big deal". His friends tried to quieten him, and I think he was lucky that the Sheikh took it in good part as he smiled and continued "As my nephew has so aptly stated, one white slave fucking another might be entertaining - but I want this evening to be special. Consequently We are going to have the slave deflowered not by a slave, but by a free man."
There were mutterings of excitement, and questioning, from the audience, and after gesturing for quiet again the Sheikh continued "Nothing special in that, you may say - after all, which of us has not ritually taken the virginity of a new slave ourselves? But the entertainment, gentlemen, is that instead of something that a free man will do in the privacy of his own chambers, this is to take place in public, right here in front of you. Some of us have seen such acts between free men on DVD - another example of Western decadence that men should disport themselves like that for an audience, for money - but tonight my chief overseer, Steve, is going to do it entirely voluntarily, right here in front of you. And I know that many of you were looking at Steve admiringly earlier, and so it will be a special pleasure to see that magnificent body in action, performing that special act that all men prize above all others."
Marc had been standing there in the middle of the room as all this was going on, evidently wondering what was happening as of course the Sheikh and his guests were speaking in Arabic, and I have been translating the sense of it for you. He seemed to be trembling with embarrassment, or anticipation, but as the Sheikh gestured for me to get up and move to the centre of the room, his demeanour changed. A faint smile broke out on his face, and I head him say "Steve, I'm so glad you're here...."
He did of course, have no Arabic and therefore knew nothing of the fate that awaited him. I wondered if he would be so happy to see me if he knew what I was going to do to him in the next few minutes.
End Of Part Four