THE INSTRUMENT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Seven
I didn't see all that much of the new slave for the next three weeks - one of the Sheikh's nephews was in residence at the palace and he decided that he would enjoy training the slave, and so after the first morning when I generally supervised the cuffing of the slave into the rickshaw, I left him to it. I did of course have to remind him that in training he needed to use the whip sparingly, as being a whitey the slave was particularly valuable, and his uncle the Sheikh would not appreciate having permanent marks made on the slave's back and butt! He laughed at me, and said not unkindly "As ever, Steve, you're protecting my uncle's interests - but you don't have to worry - I have a pony of my own, not as good as this one, actually, but I am used to driving him and I am aware of the damage that savage beatings can do. But it's not necessary - a thin carriage whip like this does all that's needed: a quick slash across the buttocks really stings, and I find it encourages the pony sufficiently."
I nodded, and went on "Shall I gag him the first time, sir? I know from experience that they don't take well to it initially....."
"Oh no, Steve - I can put a ball gag in without trouble."
"His Highness does not allow the use of ball gags, sir. He believes they spoil the 'look' of the slave, having that thing disfigure his mouth and face generally."
"So how do you keep the pony silent? Surely you don't allow them to speak!"
"Indeed not, sir. And these early days of training are vital, so that they learn from the outset that it is not permitted for them to use human speech at all anywhere outside the stables. They have to be gagged, but we use the throat-opening ball."
"You'd better show me...."
I strode over to the new slave, who'd been listening to this as he stood there manacled between the shafts.
I have to say he did look a lot better than when I had left him the night before - the stable boys had given him a proper "pony trim" so his body was now totally devoid of hair, except for the four inch wide strip across his head which would eventually be trained into his mane. It's a real advantage to have all the body hair removed when a slave is to be used for display, which is, after all, a pony's primary purpose: you can "see" all the muscles so much better as he moves. And, of course, without that forest of pubic hair, his cock and balls are revealed in all their magnificence - and given even greater prominence by the cinch ring and ball holder, his were particularly fine.
"Kneel!" I commanded him.
"Fuck you...."
I could see from the marks on his body that they must have already given him a pretty fair beating this morning - bruises were very apparent, and I thought I could see a black eye, too. I suppose he tried to prevent them shaving him, but of course the stable boys are used to that and would have responded quickly. Still, he was probably very sore, so I said quietly "If you want to be beaten again, simply continue to disobey. We are skilled at teaching slaves to be obedient, and as you have already experienced, we do not hesitate to use force to achieve our ends. You are even more powerless now than you were earlier, cuffed as you are into the rickshaw. So if you do not do as I say, you can expect further pain. Now, accept that you are powerless, and kneel!"
The conflict raging in him was evident as he stood there flexing his muscles, but finding himself utterly impotent. I could imagine it was hard for a man like him, used to being strong and free, used to being afraid of nothing physically, to have to accept that he now needed to yield. To encourage him, I flexed my own muscles and clenched my fists to signal to him that I could easily beat him as he stood there, and after a few seconds, he finally knelt - although with an obvious reluctance.
It took me a few moments to manoeuvre into position - I had to straddle his shoulders as he knelt in the dust, so his head was clamped between my thighs with his face to the front. "Right, boy.... Open your mouth wide", I commanded.
He hesitated again, and I grabbed his nose, squeezed his nostrils together, and then painfully pulled it to one side. He cried out, and he tried to struggle free - but I clenched my thighs harder, and with his hands manacled to the shafts, he had no chance..
"See? Now, do as you're commanded, and it will be better for you. This next part's not pleasant as it is, and if you resist it will only be harder, and much worse, for you.... So open wide... and then keep your fucking mouth open!"
The bit we use in training is just an adapted form of the regular bit - the stainless steel bar about the thickness of a pencil with a ring at either to attach the reins, and steel chains a little inside that which pass around the pony's head to fasten at the back to hold the whole thing in place. Once a pony is properly trained so he knows it's forbidden to speak, we find that the bit is sufficient, by itself to stifle any things he might inadvertently try to say and to remind him that he must stay silent. But in training, it's different - the pony has such a temptation to shout real words as his exercises tire him, and as he begins to experience the utter subservience of the tug of the reins, and his body reacts to the encouragement of the whip.
The "training attachment" is a small steel ball, not much bigger than a pea, joined by a short chain to the centre of the bit. Once the bit is positioned in the pony's mouth, the ball falls to the back of the pony's throat and its weight is sufficient to cause the throat to "spasm". When first fitted the pony splutters and wheezes and attempts to cough convulsively as his throat sends signals to his brain that there's a danger of him choking - but after a few rather unpleasant minutes for him, he can generally get his reflexes under control. The ball does however have the effect of keeping his throat "open", and normal speech is impossible.
I always expect difficulty when fitting the ball for the first time, and this occasion was no exception. As soon as the ball hit the back of his throat he started to convulse, and had my powerful thighs not been clamped tightly around his head I'm sure he might have done serious damage to the rickshaw as he tried in vain to free his hands. Still, expecting this, and having experience of doing it before, I was prepared. And eventually I had the bit holding chains secured around his head and the clasp fastened.
I allowed him to get to his feet then, and he stood there glaring angrily, tears running down his face - you can't help that, can you, when your body thinks it's choking? Still, he could no longer complain, and I helped the sheikh's nephew into the rickshaw as one of the stable lads attached the leather reins to the end of the bit, and gave the other end into his hands.
Look, I probably don't need to describe to you how to go about "breaking" a pony and training him to respond to the reins, and to the regular commands such as "whoa!", "trot", "run", "canter", and "sprint". I did watch for a few minutes as the sheikh's nephew began to encourage the slave to pull the rickshaw, then turn to the left and to the right, and so on - but, ultimately, it's not all that interesting and I went off to pursue my other duties about the demesne.
During the next few weeks I noticed that the two slaves - the pony, who, it turned out was called Jason, and the boy Marc, seemed to be responding to their new status in different ways. I saw Jason being driven around the place by the sheikh's nephew, and over that time he definitely improved: his skin got a rich, dark tan all over (which his driver chose to enhance by having him lightly oiled with slave oil every morning), and his already impressive musculature got "tweaked" towards the pony ideal - this thighs and butt muscles became even more powerful, and the combination of the deep breathing he did when running and an hour or so specifically working on the upper body on weights machines, made his torso even more desirable. In consultation with the sheikh's nephew I agreed to him wearing only a regular bit after a few days, so easing his throat, on the clear understanding that the first time he uttered a recognisable word when out in the rickshaw, it would be fitted again.
Towards the end of this time I visited him in the stables and stood looking at him as sprawled casually on the straw. There's something very erotic, I find, to see a magnificently muscled naked male lying there in the straw, with a chain holding him down: it shows the utter helplessness of a slave, and I think he recognised this as he did not make even the slightest effort now to conceal his "private" parts from me. "So: we're pleased with you. Your training is almost over, and we're going to put you to work properly. The Sheikh selected you personally, and he's looking forward to using you as his special transportation as he reviews all the activities here on his estate....."
He sprang to his feet, and lunged at me, only to stumble humiliatingly as the chain tethering his ankle cuff to the wall jerked taut. "It's not right!", he began to shout.
"Now look, Jason.... Stop all that! I thought you were becoming reconciled to your new life.... This won't do you any good at all, you know!"
"Look, please... Please get me out of this! I'm a free man, a soldier...."
"No, you're a slave. How many times do I have to tell you?"
He sagged almost visibly. Then his tone changed, so he was almost pleading. "Please... At least let me call my wife... My mom and dad...."
"You were married?"
"Well, divorced. But she has my son...."
I felt my cock give an involuntary twitch. There's something special about seeing a beautiful, muscled, "straight" man sprawled naked in front of you, especially one as powerless as he was now. I was extremely tempted to have him taken and put on a "horse" so I could again sample the pleasures of his ass, but, regrettably, decided I had no time. I marked it down in my brain though as something I could look forward to.
Two days later Jason disgraced himself, though: it was his first introduction to being used by his owner the Sheikh, and the groom slaves had taken particular care to make him appear as splendid as possible: his skin shone in the morning sun from the slave oil on his body which had been scrupulously freshly shaved beforehand, and they had taken immense trouble in polishing the collar, cuffs, cinch bands and bit, so that they too sparkled in the sun. As soon as the Sheikh appeared, however, the slave began to shout, protesting that he was not a slave but a free man, and actually daring to tell the Sheikh that the Sheikh was wrong to use him like this!
His majesty stood there for a few moments, at first rather startles by all of this - well he was not used to having slaves protest, was he? Particularly not pony slaves who are forbidden to speak outside the stables.
"I'm sorry, Highness....", I began.
"It's not your fault, Steve. That nephew of mine believes he knows all there is to know about slave training, and although he seems to have worked well on this slave's body, clearly he has had little effect on his mind!"
The Sheikh looked at Jason as he stood there tugging at his manacles in a vain attempt to free himself, all the time continuing to shout at us. "Order another carriage for me", he said, "And personally take charge of this one - he is a magnificent brute, and I will relish seeing those magnificent butt muscles and thighs in action as he pulls me. But he needs to learn - and learn soon - about proper behaviour for a pony slave."
I at once gave orders for Jason to be taken back to the stables, and for a two-man landau, pulled by a couple of our regular "work" ponies, to be brought around for his highness. Once all was settled and I had done my morning "rounds" to ensure all was running smoothly, I myself returned to the stables. I had ordered that Jason be taken out of the rickshaw and put into the "chin restraint" position, and as I looked at him I could clearly see that this was already putting him under considerable stress (For those of you who do not punish your slaves this way, I can recommend it as a way of making it physically very unpleasant for them, without causing permanent damage to the flesh: the slave's wrists are held apart by a short spreader bar somewhat narrower than his shoulders, which is in turn attached to a chain and pulley so that his arms are pulled above his head and he can be suspended with only the tips of his toes touching the floor. This is in itself a very severe punishment, as if he tries to stand flat on his feet, his arms and thorax are stretched too far and breathing is very laboured; if on the other hand he relieves the pressure on his body by continuing to stand on the very tips of his toes, he soon gets very severe pains in his calves and thighs. All in all he is in a terrible dilemma - which pain should he choose to suffer? The additional feature of the chin restraint is of course that a pole is thrust between his head and his up-stretched arms as he hangs there, forcing his head backwards - as well as adding further discomfort, it also means that he can no longer see what is going on around him at all, and he can take not the smallest scrap of comfort from being able to observe his surroundings).
He could hear, but not see, my approach, and so he was almost totally unprepared for the pain as my punishment cane first struck those magnificent buttocks of his. I had to be careful then of course as I needed to inflict very, very severe punishment on him with the cane, but I did not wish to permanently mark his skin - there is, as you are I am sure aware, a fine balance to be struck between effecting the maximum hurt whilst minimising actual marks on the skin. Some marking and bruising for a few days is of course inevitable, but one does not want to actually break the skin and cause bleeding and possible scarring: well, not with an expensive slave like this one, anyway. So my punishment cane is somewhat thicker than that generally used for this type of thing - I'm so strong and powerful that if I strike a hard blow with a thin cane, it's almost certainly going to cause blood to flow.
I did need to really hurt him, though, so I did not confine my beating to his buttocks and thighs as I would usually do for a slave like this. Instead, as he danced around on tiptoe, desperately trying to avoid the blows, I struck at the front of his thighs (extremely painful, as there is so little flesh to cover the bones), at his belly , his back and shoulders, and finally I gave each of his tits a couple of strokes. He began by swearing and blaspheming at me, but as the beating progressed this turned into a continuous wail of unintelligible noise, and finally to silence broken only by the occasional shriek as I hit some particularly sensitive part of him. Needless to say he was unable to control this bladder as his punishment continued, and as he twisted and slewed violently around in a futile effort to avoid me, I had to take care not to get sprayed by the liquid hosing out of him.
When I did eventually decide that he had received sufficient punishment for his transgression, I stopped. All that could be heard now was the moaning of the slave and the occasional rattle from the chains as he vainly tried to ease his suffering by repositioning his body as he hung there. I went and stood behind him, wrapped one arm around his waist to pull him close to me, and then ran my other hand over his nips and pecs. I could feel the sweat from his tortured body leeching through my own clothes (and in truth I was myself anyway already rather sweaty from my own exertions - beating a slave is hard work), and the combination of the heat radiating from him, and the intoxicating smell of this sweat, was arousing: I could feel my cock straining against my shorts, and was almost tempted to drop them so that it could press closer into his naked flesh. I put my mouth close to his ear as he hung there, and whispered "See, Jason? This is what defiance gets you. In your training you were told that it was forbidden to speak outside the stables; we made it 'easy' for you to remember this by using the training ball initially, and assumed you had learned the lesson. That outburst to your owner was utterly and completely unacceptable, and if this beating has not taught you a lesson, let me warn you that should you attempt such a thing ever again, it will be the last time! Your owner is unlikely to order you to be gelded, as I believe he intends to breed from you as you have told us that you are fertile and have already sired offspring. But we will have your vocal chords cauterised - indeed, it is only your owner's mercy that has not resulted in this already - he believes that when not performing his duties, a slave should be allowed a measured amount of freedom. If you wish to be able to continue to speak, perhaps to share intimate moments with some of the other slaves, you would be advised to obey the rules and to remain totally silent outside the stables. Is that understood?"
Instead of replying courteously to me, Jason continued to writhe and squirm, in some vain attempt to escape from me. I suppose I felt a little sorry for him as it must be hard for a free man to find himself in this predicament, so I temporarily let him go, and even pulled the pole out so that he could at least let his head resume a normal position. You would have though he would have been appreciative of this kindness, but instead he managed to hiss "Bastard!"
I grabbed him again, and his time used my free hand to tweak his nipples - he screamed again now, and once more I pressed my lips to his ear and said calmly "You need to learn, slave, that defiance will get you nowhere. We hold all the cards. And we are experienced: we have tamed slaves for years, and you should not believe that for some reason you will be the one who will not succumb eventually. Make it easy for yourself, and obey. We do not enjoy punishing a man's body, as I have just punished yours...."
He managed to get out, although it was laboured as he was having difficulty in breathing "I think you do! I met bastards like you in the marines, who enjoyed causing the young recruits to suffer."
I bit his ear lobe, causing him to give a little sharp cry. "Believe what you like, Jason. But to me, it's just work. You are a slave, a slave who needs to learn discipline and obedience, and I am your owner's instrument for delivering the training you so evidently need. And the sooner you accept your new role in life, the easier it will be for your body. But I am not a cruel man, and I think you have understood enough of my power for the time being, and so I am going to stop now. And I am going to be merciful, and let you lie in your stall tonight like a proper pony slave, and not leave you strung up here, as I easily could."
Shouting orders to the other slaves to carry out these instructions, I then turned back to him. Just two things, Jason : firstly, you may think I'm being cruel now, but it's kinder to you in the long run - the sooner you accept your new role, the less you will suffer. And of course tomorrow, when you are taken out to your owner's rickshaw, I expect complete silence. Anything else, and I will order your vocal chords to be cut."
I have to say that later that night I found it difficult to sleep: the image of the naked slave sprawled on the straw was powerfully erotic. And when I have been punishing slaves, that too makes for an arousing experience. I lay in my bed, my cock as stiff as a a poker, and thought about summoning one of the palace slaves for some relief. But it's a lot of effort, isn't it, even when the man you're fucking is co-operative? Personally I don't like to have my cock "ridden" as I lie there and prefer to be very active in my fucking, and I particularly like to hump the slave doggy-style - that night my body was tired and I just couldn't be bothered to do it all. Of course I could have one of the slaves blow me, but it's not something I'm particularly keen on as I prefer fucking. And I did think of just jerking myself off, but instead chose to lie awake just occasionally sliding my hand up and down my dick, enjoying the sensation as my 'skin pulled off my head and then slid luxuriantly back.
The following day I again attended for what was to be Jason's first real "outing" with the Sheikh, and stood there close by him tapping my punishment cane menacingly in my hand as he was shackled in to the shafts. He seemed to have learned his lesson, though, as he remained silent (although his general demeanour, and the expression on his face, left a lot to be desired - I decided I might need to give him further "instruction" on this, as an owner likes to see his slave performing their tasks freely and joyously, doesn't he?). The Sheikh shared a few pleasantries with me about the amusing pattern of "stripes" that were clearly showing all over the slave's body, but even though he clearly hated to hear himself being discussed in this way, Jason remained silent. I was a little surprised, though, to see that the young slave Marc was to accompany his owner - the surprise being caused by the fact that he had appeared wearing one of the short tunics that are the standard dress of the household slaves. It's absolutely not necessary for the slaves to wear anything, of course, but the Sheikh favours these short tunics on the more mature slaves as he enjoys seeing brief flashes of the men's cocks temptingly revealed as they hurry about their tasks; and of course if you do decide to use one of them for more intimate pleasures, it is more exciting to have the slave reveal himself as he strips off the tunic. None of this applied to a young slave like Marc, though: the essence of the enjoyment of a young slave is surely to have him revealed totally all the time in the innocence of his youth, and to be able to savour the less developed musculature and imagine how this will soon transform itself into the strong, firm body of an exercised mature slave.
I grabbed hold of the tunic and pulled it sharply up and over Marc's head, leaving him totally naked. He began to protest, and I slapped his butt hard to remind him who was in charge. To my surprise, though, the Sheikh appeared to side with Marc and allowed him to retrieve the tunic and dress. "Leave the boy alone, Steve", he told me. "You've had your enjoyment now, seeing his body - don't you think he is exceptionally good looking for a young man?"
"Yes, Highness. He is indeed pleasing....."
"Well keep your cock out of him, Steve! He's mine."
"My taste lies elsewhere, Highness, as you know. I prefer older, more mature men. Men with hard muscles, properly developed."
"You mean like my pony here? Have you fucked him yet, Steve?"
"Only when he was first brought her, Highness, and we were inducting him."
"Well feel free to use him any time you want - I fear that that big body of his would be too much for me."
As this conversation was going on I could see Jason looking really angry, and I began to fear that at any moment he might make some totally inappropriate comment - indeed, any comment at all, using speech, would of course be totally wrong. If he had done so then his punishment would have to be very severe indeed, and it would be difficult to avoid permanent damage to his body. So to avoid further difficulty I gave a little bow to the Sheikh, and walked away. I watched from a short distance though as the Sheikh gave the command to move off, and was pleased to see that Jason performed well - although it was perhaps unnecessary for the Sheikh to begin striking at his buttocks with the carriage whip when they were still in the stable yard and Jason had not yet got to that point where any pony needs "reminding" that he needs to continue working hard, however tired he feels. The boy Marc trotted alongside the rickshaw, and I suppose the Sheikh enjoyed seeing his lithe body revealed as the short tunic rode up and down in time to his steps.
A couple of weeks later I decided that the time had come to avail myself of some of the privileges of my rank, and after my work was over for the day I sauntered over to the stables intending to fuck a slave - generally I use one (or several, if I'm energetic!) of the big nigga drays as I find the combination of their hard muscle and their large bodies to be very appealing: there's something especially satisfying about having a bigger, stronger, more muscular guy impaled on your cock I find, and this is not always easy for me as I am big and strong myself, and many slaves are in fact smaller than me. The drays are of course selected for their size and power, and having several of them in one place to choose from is particularly convenient. I'm not at all prejudiced, and so fucking a nigga is not a problem for me - indeed, I kind of like the contrast between the blackness of their skin generally and the way that their assholes are still almost pink, and sometimes when I'm fucking it gives an additional erotic charge to the proceedings to see my "white" body wrapped around their black one.
The harvest was almost over and the drays had been working exceptionally hard that day, though, and they were all huddled together in a group in their stall looking utterly exhausted. Although they got to their feet respectfully as soon as they saw me, I could tell that fucking any of them was not going to be a whole lot of fun as they lacked the energy to respond properly - I'm a guy who likes the slave to take an active part in the proceedings, and I really do dislike one who just lies there almost supine and simply "takes it". Nevertheless my cock was excited, straining the front of my shorts, and I knew that if I went to bed without a fuck sleep would be impossible. So I decided to choose one of them; but then I remembered Jason, and walked a little way along the stables to where his stall was.
He was sprawled out on the straw as he had been the last time I had seen him, and he continued to lie there, glaring up at me, as I stood over him.
"It's customary here for a slave to stand up in the presence of a free man", I told him.
"Fuck you!", he muttered, and kind of settled down even further into the straw, defiantly.
"I've had good reports on your performance as a pony", I told him. "I think you're beginning to adapt well to your new life. Now don't spoil it, by making me punish you."
He continued to glare at me, but then, slowly, seeming to hate it, he uncoiled his body and casually rose to his feet. I have to say I was impressed - the constant running, and the additional exercises, had turned him from the merely extraordinary to the superb. Unconsciously, he even reached down and flicked his cock free from where sweat had stuck it to his thigh. My cock was now really straining the front of my shorts, and I knew I was feeling pure lust for this magnificent specimen standing in front of me.
"Get down on your knees and press your head into the straw" I commanded him. "It's time I had a second go at that ass of yours.... A 'second bite of the cherry', as you might say."
My attempt at trying to be nice with him was a dismal failure. He lunged at me, almost screaming "No fucking way!', and it was fortunate that we kept him tethered in the stall so that he was brought to a jarring stop and fell to his face as the tethering chain attached to his ankle jerked tight. Fortunately I was just out of range, even when he thrust his arms forward and tried to grab my ankles.
Look, you know I'm not unnecessarily cruel to slaves, and Jason's behaviour was clearly unacceptable. Added to this was my urgent need for sexual relief, and the fact that the drays and the other ponies in the stables had seen this disgraceful exhibition. Jason had to be punished, in order to show them that proper discipline was going to be maintained. So I unsheathed my slave prod from my belt, and, leaping nimbly to avoid his hands, I touched it to Jason's bare skin - it was set to the highest setting which does not generally result in the slave being knocked insensible, rather than to full stun.
Well, as you can imagine, Jason let out a howl of pure agony, and continued to scream and blaspheme as his limbs thrashed and twitched uncontrollably - on that setting of the prod, any slave is simply incapable of rational action, and Jason was no exception. It took several minutes for his body to calm itself, and whilst he was still supine and incapable of any real reaction, I took a plastic cable tie and cuffed his wrists behind his back.
He was now totally helpless, or, at least, cuffed like that he could resist, but it would be futile. I quickly stripped off my clothes, and threw myself down almost on top of him - he was face down, and I put my arm around his neck and hauled his head up so I could look at him, tightening my grip so that he almost choked, to show him the power and control I had over him.
"I warned you that you needed to learn to behave properly as a slave, Jason", I hissed. "I don't like having to hurt you like that, but you need to understand that I will not hesitate to do so again unless you co-operate fully. Now, you and I are going to get better acquainted - I like a strong muscular ass, and yours is perfect! I'm going to fuck you...."
I never managed to finish my sentence, as he spat at me - a huge gob of spit landed in the middle of my face and I could feel it trickling over my upper lip.
"I like a slave with spirit, Jason! Perhaps not quite as much as that, but you've relieved me of any concerns I might have had about taking you hard - this is only your second fuck, I believe, and I had intended to take it slowly, to introduce you to the pleasures of my cock smoothly and easily. But as you like to play rough, it seems, I've got no need to hold back...."
"Bastard! Cunt......" he started to shout, but his words turned into a scream as I thrust my hand between his powerful thighs and grabbed his balls, giving them a good hard squeeze.
"Now, my bronco, let's see how you buck when you feel a man's cock....", I shouted - my own sexual desire was now almost overwhelming, and any thoughts of being gentle had evaporated. I was almost out of control, and a whole lot of things I'd usually do with a new guy simply went out of my head. I hauled Jason's ass into the air, controlling him by his balls, and with my other hand forced his butt cheeks apart. He was still struggling a little, but this only added to my frenzy as my legs struggled to properly straddle him, and then I had that exquisite sensation in my cock, that sensation that all men crave, as it slid between his buttocks and I got that exotic combination of heat and sweat on it. I could barely contain myself - I knew that my 'skin must have pulled back as I was getting so much sensation from my cock, and I knew I was drooling pre-cum. There was no time to waste, and I positioned my cock on his pucker - giving a moan of pure pleasure as I did so - then savagely thrust myself in to him.
Jason's body went almost rigid as I violated his ass, and he gave a loud cry of anger and pain. But once he was impaled on my cock, there was no escape for him - I started to fuck him hard - really hard - revelling in the slapping sound as my body crashed repeatedly into gorgeous ass muscles.
It was over all too soon, of course - I was in such a frenzy of excitement that there was simply no way that
I could prevent myself from cumming after only a very small number of strokes. I gave a great shout as my semen pumped up into him, and I let his body collapse onto the straw so that I could lie along it, still keeping my cock nestled in the hot, sensual, slimy moistness of his hole. His cries of outrage and pain had subsided, and as I put my head against his, I could see that there were tears running down his face.
I genuinely felt sorry for him then - very sorry. It must have been physically painful for him as I had fucked him without any preparation, but I sensed that the tears were not for that reason - he was, after all, a tough ex-marine. No, they were tears because he had recognised that his life as a free man were irrevocably over. I had shown him that I could use him as an object to satisfy my sexual desires, and he must know that this was only the first time: he would be available to me whenever I chose to use him.
It's a pity, really. A man's initial experience of sex ought to be pleasurable. Still, it was his own fault. And I had enjoyed it - indeed, had enjoyed it more than if he had co-operated!
End Of Part Seven