THE SLAVE REVOLT
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part Fourteen
I suppose all of you are used to the conventional "horse" that can be used for holding a guy relatively immobile whilst he's fucked, or beaten with a cane or whip. The problem is, as my owner had pointed out, that even with his legs spread wide apart when shackled to the horse, the hole of a big-butted slave is not all that accessible. I wondered what the fuck this "new apparatus" was going to be like, but of course knew that slave owners and the plethora of special businesses that were in existence to service their every need, were endlessly inventive, and no doubt some of the finest mechanical inventiveness of the age would have gone into whatever my owner was about to use,
It was rather a disappointment then when what appeared looked a bit like a table, with a steel top that was polished to a mirror-like finish There seemed to be a number of wheels and screws that could raise and lower it, and straps on the surface clearly designed to hold a slave down. My owner snapped at me to go and kneel on the table, which I did (although it's really difficult to climb onto a table when you can't use your hands). Then as I knelt there one of the domestic slaves fastened straps around my ankles, and others just behind my knees, to hold me there. I was then commanded to lean right forward so that my forehead was touching the steel surface, and as I did so, the slave fastened my collar to a further strap at the front, effectively holding my head down.
"Right, Steve", my owner said, his hand caressing my butt as I knelt there helplessly. "Now let's really open you up wide, and get you at the right height for me....."
He began to turn some o the adjusting wheels, and as he did so I felt my legs moving apart - the rear of the table split down the centre, and as my owner continued to turn the handles, my legs went further and further apart. It soon got quite painful as the distance between them increased, and there was the new twist: a strap from the table was cinched over me at waist level, and then my owner heaved on it, forcing my belly down onto the table top and further increasing the discomfort in my splayed legs. I resisted - I've got strong belly and back muscles, as you know, and however hard my owner tugged at the strap, he couldn't force my belly lower.
"So, Steve defiant as ever, are you?", he said with a determined tone in his voice. "Well, let's see how you like this....."
I heard that characteristic "swish" sound in the air and the next instant my butt exploded into pain as the thin, springy punishment cane, wielded with considerable strength by my owner, struck me. I was so surprised that I lost my grip on my muscles and my owner triumphantly pulled on the strap around my waist, and hauled me lower.
"Another one, Steve, or are you going to co-operate?", he asked me, that same note of determination in his voice.
Well, what could I do? I a already helpless, and he could carry on beating me as much as he wanted until I eventually gave in. What was the point of putting myself through all that additional pain? I relaxed my body, and allowed my belly to sag more, so that my ass was forced even higher, and with an evil laugh my owner cinched the waist strap tight, holding me there.
He didn't spread my legs all that much more - fortunately, as I felt I was already being ripped apart - but as a final adjustment he went to my feet and turned them outwards, the pressure on my legs the making my ass even more painful, tightening the ankle straps to hold them like that. More adjustment, but this time to the wheels regulating the total height of the thing, and he seemed satisfied.
"There, Steve!". They call it "Fucking The Frog", as with your ass high up like that, and your legs spread so very, very wide and your feet twisted to put all your leg muscles in tension, you do look a bit like a frog, I suppose."
He laughed a little, but now stood between my splayed legs and stroked my ass again. "But you see, Steve, the real beauty of this apparatus is that even for a man with big, strong butt muscles, like you, in this position they are so far apart that your hole is much more easily accessible.... See?" As he said this he stopped stroking my butt and pushed at my asshole cruelly with one finger.
"See, Steve? Here it is, nicely exposed for me and just waiting to be used, as a slave should be. Nothing to protect it - all totally vulnerable and available. You can't even clench your butt to try and keep me out, can you?"
I tried to shout at him in protest, to tell him he had no right to treat me this way, but no intelligible words came out. And, anyway, what would have been the use, even if they had? As far as he was concerned, I was a slave. He owned me He could do what he liked with my body. And if he wanted to tie me down so I was helpless and then rape me, that's what he knew he could do.
He went and sat on a couch to pull off his shoes, then stood up and let his pants and boxers drop to the floor. I could see his erect dick jutting out in front of him, pushing the tails of his pale blue cotton shirt aside as it strained upwards. He stood there for a moment, stroking himself casually with that air of easy assurance that men have when they know they are totally in control of a situation, and his cock twitched as if in anticipation of what was to come.
"This time it's a punishment, Steve", he said calmly and quietly. "The first time I fucked you it was routine, something an owner has to do to a new slave. You were all slicked up, and I barely went in to you, and then just did a couple of symbolic strokes to inform you that I now owned and controlled you. But this time I'm punishing you - punishing you for betraying my trust for all that time, pretending to be a good, obedient slave whilst all the time harbouring thoughts of rebellion and escape. I know that whipping you would not be punishment enough - even if we went as far as the bull whip it would not do any good: a man like you who believes he's tough, and can 'take it' can simply endure the pain as we tear his flesh to pieces, and all I would end up with is permanently damaged goods. So, Steve, instead I'm going to fuck you, and fuck you hard, very hard. A lot of supposedly tough men can't bear the thought of having another man up their ass, and that feeling of shame and degradation will contribute to your punishment; and whilst we all know that some small amount of pain adds to the excitement of proper man on man sex, this is going to be quite different, Steve: there's no pre-stretching of you, no lubrication, no preparation of any kind. I'm simply going to position my cock at your hole, and push in with a single movement: right in, so that you will feel my pubic hair scratching at you immediately. And then, without stopping, I'm going to fuck you with long, fast strokes - you'll feel me slamming into you repeatedly, and each time you'll want to scream with the pain and discomfort of it all."
He stopped for a moment and looked down at me, and went on, calmer now "I think the pain you will experience will do more for you than any whipping could. I may - no, I will - use you for sex again after this, and each time I do, you will remember that I have the power to inflict a terrible, terrible hurt on you. As you lie under me, you'll always be worrying that my lovemaking might turn hard and rough, and you'll remember how this feels, and cringe and hope that I am going to be merciful. Instead of disliking being used for sex, you will lie there and fervently hope that I will be gentle, and afterwards, if I have been, you will be properly and truly grateful that I have been a kind and considerate owner."
He stopped speaking then, and I carried on protesting as best I could - although the gag prevented me saying anything. It was so unfair - if only I could explain to him what had really happened, he could see that I was no rebel: far from it - if I hadn't fought the rebels, his precious son wouldn't still be with him. But it was no use - there I was, utterly helpless and totally in his power, unable even to explain. He moved between my cruelly spread legs, and I felt the heat of his body as it brushed the tender flesh on the inside of my thighs.
"Now, Steve, feel this....", he said, and the tip of his dick was pressed to my hole as I lay there. I could feel its warmth as it scraped over my pucker, with absolutely no lubricant, not even a drop of spit, to ease it.
"Get ready.....", he said cruelly, and the next moment the most terrible pain shot through me as he rammed his dick home in a single smooth stroke, right deep into me. I wanted to shout, I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry and sob and give vent to the terrible hurt I experienced, but it was no good - all that I could do was splutter and stutter into my gag. And then he began to fuck me - no nice gentle strokes as a lover might do, but huge, pull right out and slam right home kind of strokes, each one causing a new wave of pain to spread through me. My whole being became centred on my ass - I could think of nothing other than the awful hurt that was consuming me, spreading from that centre of my being to totally consume my every thought.
On and on it went, and I was no longer capable of sensible thought. All I could do was lie there and pray that this terrible, terrible process would soon finish.
Look, I know that when you're fucking a guy it can go on and on. You can prolong the pleasure by slowing your strokes, pausing a little, playing with the body of he guy you're with, and generally enjoying each other. But when you're just doing a hard, brutal fuck like that, it doesn't go on for all that long. It may seem to be ages as the cock of the guy ravages you, but in practice I suppose it was all over in four or five minutes. My owner suddenly gave a great cry of "Jesus Christ!", thrust himself deep into me one more time, and then fell forward on to me as I lay there helpless.
I could feel his heart beating from his exertions as he lay on top of me, and he rested for a couple of minutes before he pulled out. I lay there almost whimpering as he strode across the room and into the small bathroom opening off it, and I heard water running as he presumably washed his dick. He came back then and stood once more by my head, his soft dick now barely visible under his shirt tail.
"So, Steve - this is what happens to rebellious slaves! They get used. They are punished by their owners. But you are in fact a good fuck, I think - that ass of yours is almost designed to truly delight a man. You used to be my trainer and I enjoyed working out with you, but I suspect that I am going to enjoy you even more in your new role: when I have a few friends around to dine, I think I'll "'frog' you like this and let them use you. Or perhaps I'll have you like this in my bedroom, every night....."
As he was speaking the door opened and Rob came in. I saw the startled look in his eyes as he took in the scene of me lying there spread out as I was, and his father half naked by me.
"Dad, what's going on?", Rob finally stuttered.
"I've just been using Steve, son. Or, rather, I've been punishing him. I thought he needed to learn a lesson about how a slave can be used - he's had it too easy in the past."
I saw Rob's eyes darting around, taking in his father's cum that was now oozing from my ass, and seeing his father's state of undress.
"Dad! Steve's my slave. You gave him to me. You have no right...."
"Silence, you insolent young puppy! I gave him to you, but I have not yet transferred the title formally, so in law he is still mine. But, in any event, you would surely not object to me enjoying him, would you? A father and son should share things like that. You've told me often enough that he is a good fuck - so where's the harm in me trying him out? A slave is, after all, there to be used...."
"But dad... I didn't want Steve fucked...."
"You told me, Rob, that you fucked him yourself, frequently, so I cannot see the harm..."
"Why's Steve looking like that, dad? He looks as if he's been crying.... And those straps - they're cutting into his flesh...."
"Oh, it's only superficial injuries - the straps may have cut him a little, and there'll be some bruising, I expect, but it will all clear up in a week or so. He thrashed around a lot as I used him."
As he said this, my owner came over and thrust a finger up my ass, causing me to wince and squirm again. He pulled his finger out and held it up to Rob. "See, he's not injured where it matters - no bleeding or anything down there.... All the fuss he was making you'd have thought he was seriously and permanently inured...."
"Dad, you fucked him so hard that there might have been....?"
"As I said, son, he needs punishment. I am concerned that you are taking on a wild, unruly slave. He needs to be 'tamed' properly, taught that his only function is to serve you and me. So I determined to fuck him roughly, very roughly, as that's a very good way of opening up a slave's mind to the fact that he is a mere object for his owner's satisfaction...."
Rob continued to stare in horror, and his father went on "Indeed, I think it would now be appropriate for you to repeat the exercise - why don't you slip off those shorts and fuck Steve now? It won't be as satisfactory a lesson for him, of course, as now he is somewhat stretched already, and of course my semen will act as a lubricant.... But, nevertheless it will remind him that you can dominate him and control him whenever you choose...."
"No, dad."
"Rob, I asked you nicely. In matters relating to the discipline of slaves you are still young and a little innocent. I know you told me all those stories of defeating the rebels, but in matters of handling the domestics you seem curiously naive.
"So come now, do as I say and slip those shorts off, and I'll adjust the table so that he's at a more convenient height for you - this new apparatus opens him right up, as you can see - take a close look, as I doubt that his hole has ever been quite so visible to you..."
"No, dad! It's not right! It's not right to use a man like that, against his will..."
"Of course it's not right to use a man like this, but Steve is not a man - he's a slave, a man-beast, if you will recall. And a slave has no rights - a man can use his slave, his property, in whatever way he wants to. Now, do as I say..."
"NO, dad! I'm not going to fuck Steve - rape him, even. It's not right.... I don't believe in it...."
"Don't believe in fucking? Come now, Rob, don't be stupid. All young men of your age like sex. And I spoke to one of the domestics this morning, and she was telling me that there is clear evidence that there has been sex in your bed, lots of it..."
"Dad - you've been spying on me!"
"Oh don't be silly, Rob! It's hardly 'spying' as you call it, to make conversation with some of the domestic slaves. It makes them feel more valued, to know that their owner takes an interest. And so they work harder.... So I know that you have been having sex with Steve, and that's perfectly right and proper, as a young man should learn to enjoy slaves from an early age."
"But I don't fuck him, dad! And I wouldn't, well, not against his will."
"Not fuck him? All the semen.... And what's this nonsense about 'against his will'? A slave has no right to a will of his own."
Rob was blushing now, but seemed on the verge of panic. "Dad, we...... We kind of play together......."
"No, I do not know, Rob! Using a slave for sex is one thing, something that all healthy men might do. But 'playing' with a slave, by which I take it to mean 'playing sexually' - well, that borders on perversion!! There's nothing wrong with a man choosing to fuck his slave, male or female, but it should be clearly understood that the slave is there to be used, a receptacle for his owner's cock and his semen. But 'playing' with a slave, using him in a way that causes him pleasure as well as you, that's not on - you'll be telling me next that you actually enjoy sex with men...."
Rob stopped suddenly and said quietly "Dad, I like men. I really like them, dad. And there's...."
I saw my owner's face drop in astonishment. But now he'd started, Rob seem determined to continue. He went on "And, dad, I need to tell you something.... Something about all that time I was trapped down here, during the revolt...."
Seeing his father was silent, he continued "It was Steve that saved me, dad! He's not a rebel.... He was, and is, a good and trusted friend. And if he hadn't saved me, the rebels would have crucified me. He saved my life, dad, several times". Now Rob lowered his voice and almost whispered "But as it was dad, I was raped! Just as you raped Steve a few minutes ago. That's what happened to me during the slave revolt, dad...."
"...which shows you how careful we need to be to keep slaves under control..."
"It wasn't the slaves, dad! It was our own soldiers! The boys in grey! They raped me. And it's terrible, I can tell you, being used like that, totally powerless, totally unable to prevent yourself being defiled....."
"You lied to me, Rob!"
"I had to, dad, I was so ashamed...."
As I knelt there, vilely uncomfortable still and with my ass hurting like it had never hurt before, I saw Rob's lip trembling as if he was about to burst into tears. And then my owner threw his arms open, Rob rushed at him, and father and son stood there locked in an embrace that seemed to indicate all was well. They left then, though, arm in arm, leaving me there, as if they had simply forgotten me - perhaps that's how they viewed slaves, just things you could leave behind you as you left a room, as you might leave an ornament.! I felt pretty miserable, I can tell you - there was the sheer physical discomfort of being on my knees, by legs spread out so unnaturally like that, and now the straps that were holding me down were really hurting - as I'd thrashed around under the brutal assault of my owner they had indeed cut in to me and bruised me, and now I was beginning to feel the effects of this.
I don't know how long I stayed therefore, but eventually two guards came in, accompanied by two household slaves, and I heard the order to "Free him, and take him and get him cleaned up."
I thought that at last my salvation had come, but the moment I was released from the straps holding me, and was beginning to rub some life back into m limbs, the guards slipped proper cuffs on me, holding my hands behind my back. They made no attempt to loosen or remove my gag.
"This one's a rebel", one guard told the other, "And we'd better take precautions. Even though he looks as if he's had a good seeing to by the boss, you never can tell. Once a rebel, always a rebel, that's what I think. Personally I can't understand why the boss bothers with him at all - if he were mine, he'd be down to the vets and the gelding shears would be out, I can tell you."
"Aw, come on! I can see why the boss wants to keep him whole - look at his magnificent body, look at those testicles... Can you imagine playing with them, as you fuck him?"
"Well I don't suppose we'll ever get the chance to use a prime piece of flesh like this...."
"Oh, I don't know - I reckon that if the boss gets tired of him he might turn him over to the staff..... We usually only get to play with the bitches at the moment, I know, but every now and then they give us a nice tight ass to fuck - and if we were to ask.... Well, he'd be wasted in the fields, coffled with the niggas, wouldn't he? I mean, look at this rump......"
As he said this, the guard slapped my butt appreciatively, and I felt my anger rising that he was treating me just as if I was some sort of sex object, with no feelings of my own. I moved away in anger, and he, seeing the furious expression on my face, reached out, grabbed my dick and balls, and hauled me back towards him. I squirmed as he did this, but as he squeezed my balls and that awful sensation you get when your testicles are under threat went through me, I steadied myself and stood there meekly.
"Listen, boy!", the guard snapped. "Behave! My buddy and I know how to deal with unruly slaves. Would you like me to yank these balls of yours down towards your knees? I've had many a slave writhing on the floor when he's dared to even think of misbehaving. "
He turned to his companion and went on "You should come and get some of this - his dick's magnificent - look, he's starting to go hard, so I reckon he likes a guy fondling him....."
Well I didn't like it at all. I hated it. But you can't control your body sometimes, can you? If a guy has you by the balls and is stroking your dick, something's going to happen, whether you like it or not.
"Hey, stop playing with him! You know the boss's orders - get him cleaned up ... I reckon there's something special planned for him.... I think I saw the whipping frame being prepared, and it's always good to see a slave thrashing around as the lash cuts into him...."
"Why would they be cleaning him up, if he's going to be whipped?"
"Oh come on! Most slaves let their bowels go when the whip hits, and it's pretty unpleasant for the spectators to see all that stuff trickling down their thighs... And the smell... No, I reckon he's going to get a good cleaning out inside, so that when the whip kisses him, there won't be any unseemly consequences."
I stood there in impotent fury listening to this. Surely it couldn't be true - why would I get a whipping now? But they seemed so sure of themselves, and there was no way I could protest - any physical activity and they'd torture my balls. And I still had the fucking gag in ,so there was nothing I could say.
All I could do therefore was to acquiesce as they led me out and down to the slave quarters (the guard seeming to get a particular pleasure in leading me by my now-solid dick, adding to my discomfort and humiliation by scraping his thumb roughly over my piss slit as he did so).
They washed me - thoroughly, all over, and even the other slaves seemed to know that "something was going on" as they too dared to play with my balls and fiddle with my dick. And, yes, they did clean me out inside, too - I had to stand there, bent over, as they pushed the enema tube up my aching ass so they could fill me and flush me out four times.
I stood around for quite a long time then, wrists still cuffed behind me, and feeling really depressed. I had thought that as soon as Rob had told his father about what had really gone on rescue would be assured.
But now.... all this talk of whipping, and being prepared for it....
Guards came eventually, though, and led me back into the main part of the house (leaving my dick alone this time, thank God, and positioned me outside the big double doors to the main drawing room - I'd never been in there before, only seen it as I had occasionally gone with my owner through the house when we were out on a training session. The guard knocked, heard a voice from inside, and led me in.
Rob and his father were standing in front of the big fire place (filled with flowers, as it was summer), and my owner looked really cross and stern.
"I am very displeased with you, slave!", he began. "Very displeased indeed!"
This was so fucking unfair! What had I done, other than protect his son?
"You have lied to me, slave, and that is totally unacceptable. A slave never lies to his owner, or, if he does, he must expect and accept the consequences!
I went to say something, but of course the gag was still in place, so I was still effectively dumb.
"All this time you knew you had done a great service to my son, and thus to me, and yet whenever the revolt was spoken of you remained silent. You have caused my son much unnecessary suffering, by making him lie to me! Had you spoken out as a proper slave should have, mindful of his absolute duty to be honest at all times, my son and I could have avoided a lot of misunderstandings, and would not have been so distant with each other because of he secret that was not spoken of."
Dad, dad....", Rob blurted out. "Don't be so unfair It was me who told Steve not to say anything. I ordered him not to tell you about all the stuff I've discussed with you now, as I didn't want to have to tell you about being raped...."
"Be quiet Rob, and keep out of this! The fact remains that Steve is my slave. He had a duty to me, irrespective of what you may have told him. A good, honest, trustworthy slave would have told me the real truth about your adventures. And them being the wise and caring father I am, I could have helped you. As it is, there has been much needless deception and stress for you, and for that, Steve must be punished."
"No, dad..."
"Yes, Rob! If he does not understand now that he has an absolute duty to think of my interests in everything he does, he is a danger to us all. He might not rebel outwardly, but we cannot have a slave thinking for himself, working out what's 'best', as he sees it. That's what us owners do: we plan and manage, and the slaves, dumb beasts as they are, obey.. So he must be punished."
I shook my head violently, and tried to scream and shout that it was all so fucking unfair. But my owner stood there impassively, and turned to Rob, and remarked "See, Rob, this is what happens when you allow a slave to take part in your life and put him in the position of making decisions and acting on his own volition It's not good for them - can you imagine one of the domestic slaves standing there and attempting to shout at me in such a way? You are very much in the wrong, Rob, for putting Steve in this position. But he should have known that as my loyal slave he should have told me before. As he did not, he is guilty. And as you can see, he is no longer behaving as an obedient slave should. There is only one way to deal with him now - he must be whipped, and whipped hard. We may yet save him."
"NO, dad! It's not Steve's fault...."
"It is, Rob. And if we do not take strong corrective action now, he will always be a wilful, disobedient slave. You have allowed some aspects of a 'free man' to creep back into his life, and there is, in my experience, only one way to rid him of them: the whip."
"NO, dad..."
"Yes, Rob! It is in Steve's own best interests, if you think about it. If he is allowed to go on as he is, sooner or later he will commit some major error by thinking and acting 'free' - and then we would have no option but to have him gelded, or even crucified. If we whip him now, and whip him hard, we may yet manage to reset his brain so that he is once more a proper humble obedient slave. He will be much happier, you know - perhaps not immediately, when he is in agony, but long term..."
"...happier with his body cut to ribbons?"
"Yes, Rob. I know we may damage him permanently, and it is indeed a pity for that lovely back and those magnificent shoulders to get flayed, but in the long term, it's for the best. A lot of physical pain now may save him from a lifetime of mental anguish as he struggles to reconcile his 'free' thoughts with his duties as a slave. "
Rob came over to me, put his arm around my neck and pulled me down slightly so he could say to me quietly "I'm sorry, Steve. It is mostly my fault, you know. But dad's right - he knows a lot about slave handling, and since our time on the road, you haven't been the same Steve as when you were a slave here before. I reckon he does need to do this, but you can rely on me: I won't care - I'll still want you as my slave, even with your back flayed and scarred for life."
I tried to say something to him, but of course I could not. And as he let go of my neck, thne pushed me gently away from him, the doors opened and the guards came in to take me away.
End Of Part Fourteen