Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 13:05:02 -0800 (PST) From: Pete Brown Subject: Story: A Slave's Life, Part 8 A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 8 By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ Read all of Pete's stories at There was a change in our work routine the next day, as we'd finally finished digging out the trenches for the foundations of the new building, and it was time to start filling them with cement. I'd though that they'd use a cement mixer, or perhaps have it delivered ready-mixed, as you would in England, but I'd forgotten, I suppose, that part of the purpose of having us slaves was to enable our owner to have the pleasure of seeing naked men hard at work on tough physical tasks. Just as we'd run up to the site as usual and were getting our shovels out, there was the sound of lashing and shouting and a cart came into view - a cart pulled by six sweating naked men, who were being heavily lashed by an Overseer. All the men were black, and they were all exceptional specimens, well over six two. It looked just as if they'd been chosen to be clones of each other and this effect was heightened as they were all totally shaved all over - there wasn't a hair between them - and their skins shone under the sun just as if they'd been oiled (as I later learned they had been!). In addition to their neck chains with the locator mechanism, they were cinched, like us. But welded around their shoulders and chest were harnesses of chain, and these were in turn attached to the cart by further chains. Their Overseer walked alongside the men "encouraging" them with his whip, and, again like us, these seemed to be designed to stimulate and urge the men onwards, rather than do permanent damage to their bodies. The cart drew to a halt, and our Overseer told us to unload it - it was full of the 100lb sacks of cement, and we had to put them on our shoulders and carry them to where a neat pile was being made. The six blacks stood there panting and recovering whilst this was going on, but the instant we had the last sack off their Overseer "drove" them away. We scurried around "preparing" things - using shovels to clear a flat area of the coarse scrub that covered the ground, and so on. We even had the totally unexpected luxury of doing nothing for several minutes, as it seemed we were waiting for the cart to return - which it eventually did, full of sand and aggregate. We had to start work in earnest then, firstly unloading the cart into a big heap, and then working away at mixing cement manually - we had to measure precise numbers of shovelsful of sand and aggregate, add the requisite number of shovelsful of cement powder, then thoroughly mix it with water before loading it into barrows and taking it over to be tipped into the trenches we'd dug the previous days. After the wait for the load of cement and aggregate initially, the team pulling the cart managed to keep up with us, so we never stopped for the rest of the morning, and after our break, resumed the backbreaking shovelling and stirring once more. During the afternoon we saw a light rickshaw arriving, and the Overseer called to us that it was our owner who had come to survey progress, and that on no account were we to stop work - indeed, he "encouraged" us a little with his whip. "Your owner needs to see that you're properly stretched", he told us. "Keeping a big slave operation like this going is an expensive business, and he needs to know he's getting his value for money out of you slaves." Value for money? What the fuck was it costing him, after he'd paid for us to be captured and enslaved? No clothes, the slave biscuits, no proper housing other than the bare pen.... I suppose he had costs for Overseer and guards, but then he'd have some of that anyway, wouldn't he, if he had to supervise paid workers? We worked on, but I saw that the owner's rickshaw was pulled by the slave Karl that I'd met the first day, and I remembered that Stu told me that he was the owner's favourite "pony". Karl was totally naked except for the security chain around his neck, and he wasn't even cinched - as he moved, his cock and balls were bouncing up and down in line with his motion, and now I was used to being cinched, I thought how uncomfortable it must be for him - although I suppose he'd be used to it. Unlike the blacks pulling the cart, he wasn't even chained to his rickshaw - I guessed it was the ultimate in control for the owner, to have this magnificent naked man so in his power that he could be allowed total freedom like this and be secure in the knowledge that Karl would perform his assigned role. The rickshaw pulled up, and the owner sat there for a couple of minutes watching us. Now that I could observe him more closely I could see that he was probably in his late forties, big and powerfully built, and with an air of authority about him. He was wearing a kind of traditional long Arab robe in white, but his face and head were uncovered and he had short, iron-grey hair closely cut. He got out of the rickshaw and came over to speak to the overseer, who in turn came to me. "Your owner wants to inspect you now that you have been here for two weeks. Go over to him, and kneel. And remember, if he speaks to you and requires an answer, you use the correct mode of address. If you fail in any of this, the whole team will be punished when he has gone. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Careful, slave! Is that the proper mode? Try again... Do you understand?" "Sir, yes, sir!" "Good. Now go over, kneel, and make obeisance to your owner. Remember, he totally controls your life, and if he is displeased with you things can become very unpleasant, and he can even decide to sell you on to the mines..." Once again, I felt a chill run through me - not only because I'd heard bad things about the miens, but primarily because the idea that the owner could sell me was so wrong: I was a man, not an object like a car. You couldn't - or shouldn't - sell men. But what could I now do - nothing! So I jogged over to stand in font of my owner - yes, I did think of him as this, even though I found it difficult still to get used to the concept of "owner" and "slave" - and remembering what the Overseer had told me I knelt on the hot ground, and bent forward to touch my head to the ground. It's so utterly humiliating to do this in front of another man: you demonstrate your complete subservience to him. And touching your forehead to the ground means that your ass is raised in the air, and your whole body is exposed to his gaze as he looks down at you. "On your feet, slave, and stand with your hands behind your neck." His voice was deep and calm, and you could tell that he was used to being obeyed. So I scrambled to my feet, and clasped my hands behind my neck - I realised that when you stand like this your chest is almost automatically thrust out to display your pecs to their best advantage, and, of course, there's absolutely no possibility of concealing any part of your lower body My owner said "Turn around - rotate slowly", and I kind of shuffled my feet to do a complete turn in front of him. "Good", he said, to himself. Then to me "Excellent. When I saw you I knew that you would have a pleasing body, and now that that silly white band where you hid it from the sun has been obliterated, I can see that I was proven right." He mover closer to me, and ran his hands over my pecs, then to my waist, where he probed his fingers into my muscles quite hard. He moved around behind me and I could feel his strong hands running over my shoulders, then down to my waist again. It was as if he was inspecting some show animal - which, I suppose, that's what I was as far as he was concerned. "Excellent, too. Much increased muscle tone. And our regime has got rid of that thin layer of fat that your idle Western lifestyle was starting to lay down." He reached down to take my cock in his hand, and I started backwards as I still wasn't used to having my intimate parts touched, except in the context our sex at night. "Easy, boy. This cock belongs to me, remember!" He rolled my cock around in his hands, and I tried as hard as I could not to get an erection. I failed the moment he started to 'skin me back, exposing my moist cock head in the palm of his hand and stroking it with his thumb - I'm so sensitive there that there was just no way I could avoid getting completely hard, and I knew that small trickles of pre-cum would be forcing themselves out of my piss slit. "Hmmmm....", he was musing to himself. Then he addressed me. "I allowed you to keep your 'skin initially - normally all of my slaves are of course cut as no part of their bodies should be hidden from their owner. And I think those long 'skins that some men have, tailing past the end of their cock heads, really spoil their general look and appearance. But I left yours, as an experiment, as there were intriguing glimpses of your piss slit even when you were 'skinned fully forward. But, on reflection, I have decided that I was wrong - you're far too sensitive with a 'skin, and your head needs constant exposure. So my veterinarian will 'skin you shortly." "Now, slave", he went on, "Are you adjusting to life here? I have seen the tapes from your holding pen, and you seem to be partaking fully of sex with your fellows..." I was so astonished to think that anyone could have been videoing our actions at night and viewing them, that all I could think of to say was "Sir, yes, sir!" "Good! Losing your 'skin won't affect sex - indeed, you'll be less sensitive and so you'll be able to fuck away for longer. Does that please you?" "Sir, no, sir... I like it the way I am, I....." "Silence! You do not have opinions, You neither like nor dislike things. You are a slave, and slaves accept whatever their masters command for them. If I consider that sex will be better for you as you will be able to fuck longer, then that is as it will be. Now, perform your obeisance again, and return to work!" I knelt humiliatingly again, but my owner called me to back to my feet. "One more thing - I know your cock is in good form, but I have not had an independent verification of your ass hole. He turned towards his rickshaw, and called "Pony, over here!" Karl came towards us, and I saw his huge cock swinging in front of him. "Kneel slave", the owner snapped at me, indicating that I should do so in front of him, "touch your head to the ground, and raise your ass high in the air." I could guess what was going to happen to me, and I wanted to scream at him that I wasn't a salve, that I was a free man really, and that I wasn't going to be raped by Karl! But I knew that there was nothing I could do about it now - there was no way I could escape the estate, with my security chain around my neck. And if I dared disobey my owner, it would not just be me that would suffer, but all the other guys in my group as well. So I gritted my teeth and knelt there, starting to sweat with dreadful apprehension about what was going to happen to me. It came soon enough - Karl knelt behind me, and I felt his strong hands pull my ass cheeks apart, then I flinched as something hit my sensitive pucker - Karl had spat a big gob of saliva at my hole, and his finger was now probing me and almost massaging it in. But it was a very cursory attempt at lubing me - nothing like the prolonged, gentle massage that Craig had done. And I heard him spit again, and, looking back, saw him rubbing his big, engorged cock with his saliva . Then it was pressing against me, and he really pressed hard. He forced himself forward, and put his big arms around my waist d I knelt there, to hold me back against him. My sphincter still resisted him, and I was really hurting. I was starting to panic, and sweat was pouring out from all over me. I felt him pull away slightly, and thought that it might be over, but it was only so that he could gather a little space so that he could thrust forward at me.... And his cock head did now penetrate me. It was so painful, though, that I gave a scream, but Kurt didn't seem to care: once through my ring of muscle, he carried on thrusting forwards until I could feel his hot belly pressed against my ass. I was sobbing now, as I was in such agony and distress from this brutal entry, but my owner shouted "Silence, slave, else I'll order a whipping for your fellows." So I gritted my teeth, and tried to restrain my lungs from providing air for my cries. "Well, pony, how is the slave?" "Master, very tight, master. Almost as if he is a virgin." Kurt was almost grunting as he said this, so I knew he'd found it difficult. "Interesting. Proceed to fuck him to completion, and make it quick as I have other things to do today." "Master, yes, master!" Kurt started to fuck me, and unlike Craig's gentle slithers in and out of me, this was just hard and fast - Kurt withdrew almost the entire length of his cock, then slammed it back into me in one quick movement with no consideration at all for what it was doing for me. Was he doing this because he liked hard, rough fucking like this, or because he was obeying our owner's order to get it over with quickly? I didn't know, and, frankly, I didn't care - all I knew was that it was hurting like hell, and I wanted him out of me. My body reacted almost automatically and I tried to buck and wriggle to get him off me and put an end to my torture, but Kurt evidently had done this before as his arms gripped me tighter and tighter, making it impossible for me to escape. On and on it went, harder and harder and faster and faster, and I could hear Kurt's breathing change to harsh gasps with the effort he was making, and little low grunts were coming from deep inside him. Then, suddenly, he cried "Yesssss....", and he slammed into my ass one last time and then remained completely buried in me up to the hilt of his cock, as he pumped his cum up into me. Even though he must have been in that state when you've just cum and you need a moment to recover yourself, there was no respite for Kurt: the owner had no consideration for him, and told him to get to his feet as they needed to be off. Kurt pulled out of me, and stood there - his chest was heaving up and down from his exertion, and there was a slick of his cum hanging from the end of his deflating cock. His cock was covered in cum, sweat and my ass juices, and the pungent smell drifted to me on the still air. "Get up", the owner commanded me, and I got to my feet and stood looking at Kurt. I could feel his cum gently trickling out of my ass hole and running down the inside of my thighs, and when I instinctively reached down to touch it, and then pulled my hand up I saw there were traces of blood, too! The owner saw me looking with horror at this, and said, almost kindly, "Don't worry - that often happens with you new slaves as Kurt is so big and there can be a little tearing. You'll be sore for a few days, but there won't be any permanent damage as he knows what he's doing." As he finished speaking, he called for the water boy, and Stu came running over with his water sack slung over his shoulders. "Clean the cock of my pony", the owner told him. "I can't have him going around all day stained like that." Stu looked at Kurt and me, and he knew what must have happened. He looked at me almost in desperation, but did as he'd been instructed - he splashed water out of his water bag onto Kurt's now semi-flaccid cock, then reached down and rubbed his hands all over it to clean it. It only took a few moments, and the owner then commanded Kurt to bring the rickshaw over. He looked arrogantly proud, standing there between the shafts, completely naked and unadorned except for his security collar, and the owner climbed aboard. He flicked idly at Kurt's magnificent ass with his whip - not hard, but almost as if he was using it as a means of giving orders, rather than as a punishment or "encouragement", and Kurt jogged off, gradually getting faster as he took the strain of the owner and the light carriage. It looked as if Stu wanted to say something to me, but he couldn't, of course, and so he gave me a look of encouragement, then loped off to water the men who were still hard at work. There was nothing else for me to do but to return to my mates and carry on with the gruelling mixing of the cement, and so, in spite of the pain from my ass, that's what I did for the rest of the afternoon. When we were at last in our pen that evening, all the guys crowded around me and asked how I was - they'd all seen Kurt fucking me, although they had not been allowed to stop work. And some of them had been "tried out" in the same way after they arrived, and remembered how painful it was to have Kurt's enormous cock thrust into them that way. Craig was extremely concerned, and when we lay down whispered that he wasn't going to fuck me that night as he knew I must be hurting. However whilst we were kissing and gently stroking each other pleasurably, the gate was unlocked and Stu came in again. He picked his way across the heaped bodies, playfully fending off the approaches and touches of the other guys until he saw me. He came and crouched by Craig and me, and grinned. "The owner's friends want to play with Kurt again tonight - although I doubt he'll be much use after that epic fucking of your ass this afternoon - so I asked to be put in again with you guys. Can I ride your cock again, Jon, please...?" I wasn't used to such a direct approach, and was anyway very tired. "No, you can't! I told you last time that I didn't do things like that." "Yes, but it's all different now, isn't it......" "How?" "Well, Kurt's fucked you. And he fucks me all the time. So we've got something in common - Kurt's big cock has been up both of us.... So it must be OK for your cock to go up me...." I almost laughed at his twisted logic, but, all the same, I did remember how pleasurable it had been when he rode me. I looked at Craig, and saw him smiling... "Go on, Jon - give it a go! The lad wants you to fuck him, so why not try it?" Well I suppose some part of the "old" me was still saying that it wasn't right, that I shouldn't be even thinking about things like this. But after having been fucked by Craig and Kurt, being "ridden" by Stu, and spending all my time humiliatingly naked with an almost constant erection from the cinch ring, something else inside me was saying "why not?" I smiled back at Stu, and went to start wanking him for a supply of lube, but Craig pulled me closer to him. "Not so fast, Jon! I'm going to lose out here - if you're going to fuck the lad, I want you to wank me first - I want those big strong fingers of yours around me, else I'll have to do myself and it's not the same." It wasn't as good, of course - both guys really need to be wanking each other, don't they, for the best sex? But it was interesting all the same - as I kissed and stroked Craig, I had time to focus on what was happening to him in a way that I couldn't when he was doing equally pleasurable things to me. I saw how his breathing changed, how he sighed and moaned as I varied my grip on his cock, how he moved his body closer to mine then further away as I stroked his balls and scratched at his pucker, and how, as he was ready to cum, his breathing almost froze and his whole body arched in anticipation of the giant splash of hot cum that shot out of him. He was panting afterwards, and I smiled down at him and said "So was that OK? Worth giving up a fuck for?" He grinned, and said "No way!", but I knew he was joking and reached down and playfully gave his cock a couple more strokes, causing him to almost double up with the discomfort, as I knew he had an incredibly sensitive cock after he'd cum. "Hmmm. Craig.... Perhaps I'd better keep stroking you, get you erect again, and let you in my ass then...." I took hold of his cock, and he gasped "No.... Bastard.... You know what I'm like when I've cum..." We both collapsed into helpless laughter, and it was one of the best moments I've ever shared with another guy - we were so relaxed, so happy, so completely unconcerned about what anyone else thought, and were only focused on what happened between us. "Now you've exhausted me, get to work on young Stu whilst my cum's still fresh to slick his hole", Craig went on. "I can see he's desperate to have that cock of yours up him again - but do it properly this time, like I fucked you. Or do it 'doggy', as Kurt did." Stu was kneeling now, and it was he who took some of Craig's cum and started eagerly rubbing it into his hole. Craig was watching, and pushed sideways, forcing some of the other guys even tighter together and so making a small space on the floor. "Come on, lad - lie here beside me", he said kindly, and moved his arm out sideways to make a pillow for Stu's head to lie on. Stu sank down and lay beside Craig, and I knelt between them and started to massage Stu's hole, just as Craig had done to me. He started to moan, and at first I thought I was hurting him, but I realised that it was just the pleasure he was feeling from the tender way my finger was working him. Again, in a kind of detached way, I was interested to observe how I could almost "play" his body - as my finger went in and out of him he moved sensuously, his breathing changed, his eyes closed, and a smile played all over his handsome face. I know you have to do it, but after a time massaging a guy's hole gets a bit boring, doesn't it? As soon as I thought I'd relaxed him enough, therefore, I moved so that I was between his legs, then picked them up and put them on my shoulders, as Craig had done to me. Then I entered him, ever so slowly, ever so gently, just nudging his sphincter with my cock head at first, and teasing it so that Stu's body writhed with pleasure. I knew he was ready, and so was I - pre-cum was pouring out from me, as the touch of the lad's pucker on my sensitive cock head was almost more than I could bear. So I thrust my hips forward, and my cock head went in that vital first inch or so. Stu moaned deeply, and I continued to push until I was buried inside him as far as I could go - the cinch ring got in the way a bit, as you'd expect, so I couldn't get that wonderful feeling of having my body in complete contact with his ass. And then, as they say, I fucked him - long and slow, short and fast, I forget how many times I varied my stroke, changed my pace.... I was carried away, and so was Stu. We both were laughing, grunting, moaning and shouting as the fucking went on, and his body was responding perfectly to me. Even though I was in some sort of sexual ecstasy, another part of me was in control: I was watching, observing, and even experimenting, to a certain extent, to see what happened as I modified the way I fucked him. It couldn't go on for ever of course - the more I tried to be detached, the more excited I became, and then the inevitable happened - that roaring, raging, rampaging feeling exploding through me as my balls pumped my seed along my cock and deep into him. I was absolutely the best feeling I'd ever had in my whole life. Better even - much better - than any of the women I'd fucked. So this is why men went with each other: now I knew. And something inside told me that this was how it was meant to be for me, that this is how I was always going to have sex in future. The world seemed to have stopped for me for a few moments, but I came back to reality as Craig gently shook me. "Are you OK, Jon, mate?" "OK? Are you kidding? I'm fantastic!" I gently pulled myself out from Stu, and leant forward over him, being careful to take most of my weight on my elbows. I kissed him, deeply, and he put his arms around my neck and pulled me close to him "Oh, Jon..... That was amazing. After Kurt.... Oh Jon....." A tear had formed at the corner of Stu's eye, and as I watched, it rolled down his cheek. "Jon... Don't make me go back to Kurt... Keep me here with you...." Craig was listening to this, and cut in "Don't be so stupid, lad! You know that's not possible. Even if Jon wanted you with him, he has no choice: we're all slaves, and it's the owner who decides who's allowed to be with whom. He's decided that you're going to be with Kurt, and so that's your life: you have no choice, Jon has no choice, and neither does Kurt! So stop being like some stupid half-baked love-sick school kid: you're a slave, and for the good of all of us, you do what you're told." After that outburst Stu just lay there quietly, but I knew that Craig must have thought that he'd been unnecessarily harsh with the lad as he joined me in wrapping ourselves around Stu so that we all slept companionably close together. In the middle of the night we were all awake, though, and we were all erect. I wanted to fuck Stu again, but I also knew that Craig had been very good in letting me do it earlier instead of spending my time with him. It seemed to be the classic "love triangle", and I didn't know what to do. Craig had so much more experienced, of course, and neatly solved the problem - he started to gently wank me, then used his other hand to move my hand onto Stu's erect cock, and then to get Stu to wank him! The following day it wasn't just my ass that was sore from the brutal fucking that I'd received from Karl - my legs and back ached, too. As I tried to stand up in the morning I almost groaned, and I thought it was just from the incredibly hard work we'd been doing - although I'd mostly got over the sheer muscular ache that I'd experienced when I first arrived. Craig saw me and laughed - "You've got fucking pains, Jon", he told me laughingly. "When you fuck a guy in the missionary position, as you did young Stu last night, you use your body differently from when you're working, and so you can get sore the following day. It'll soon wear off - and if you carry on fucking, as I suspect you will, as I can see you're a top, like me, then it will go away as your muscles get used to it. Stu was taken away as we all crouched there crapping over the grille, and we did our usual morning run out to the construction site. Half way through the morning the owner appeared again, with Karl pulling him in his rickshaw. I was almost glad to see that Karl was really working hard - his chest was heaving up and down as our owner had evidently run him fast on their journey. The owner said a few words to our Overseer, and he in turn came over and told me to go and stand behind the rickshaw. I did as he told me, and the Overseer pulled a short chain out of a small box on the back of the rickshaw, and clipped the end to my snout ring! With a tiny crack of the whip, the owner urged Kurt into motion, and I was forced to follow if I wanted to avoid excruciating pain from my nose. After we'd been running for a few minutes I saw that Kurt's job was not as easy as I'd thought - the ground was sharp and hot under my feet, the owner set quite a fast pace for the run, and it was a bit of a struggle for me to keep up even when there was only me to move. Kurt must really have to work hard to make himself and the rickshaw and the owner go along at this pace! Still, I didn't feel all that sorry for him really - he wasn't cinched, he didn't have a humiliating snout ring, and he was able to choose to have young Stu with him most nights - I think I'd have willingly treaded places with him, if that had been on offer. We stopped outside one of the buildings in the central complex, and at once a guard ran out. The owner said something to him (he mostly spoke in some strange foreign language, unless he was addressing us slaves, when he used English), and the guard came around and released my snout ring from the chain, that he then neatly coiled back into its box on the back of the rickshaw. The guard led me in to the building, and along a corridor and back into the "veterinarian's office" that I'd been in on my first day. The same white-coated man was standing there, and he consulted something on his PC screen. He came over and read my name from my shoulder, and said "Right, Jon, you're here for the circumcision. I thought the owner wouldn't delay it for long - he has all his slaves done routinely, you know. It's not usually a problem for the Americans, but as we get more and more men coming from Europe - especially Eastern Europe - I get more and more little operations like this to do." "I heard all that nonsense about leaving you whole as you only had a short 'skin and your piss slit was mostly uncovered, but I knew the owner wouldn't leave it like that for long. It spoils the symmetry, don't you think, when there's a whole gang of slaves and one of them still has a 'skin?" I went to answer, but realised that he was just musing and I wasn't required to say anything. "Still, you're lucky", he went on, "On another estate where I work fairly regularly, the owner there doesn't like the slaves to get much pleasure from sex. So when I 'skin the new slaves, I have to cut away the little piece of skin underneath the head, too - that's what gives you most pleasure, you know. And e even has it removed from slaves that come ready 'skinned! Your owner is more sensible - he knows that a big group of men kept together would turn unruly and fight, unless they were getting plentiful sex. So he instructs me to let you keep your pleasure point, so you'll enjoy sex more, and so you'll do it more often, and so you'll be less likely to cause other problems. Clever guy, really - you can see why he's made so much money." I desperately wanted to ask about the owner - how had he got to this position of absolute power over other men? But I supposed I was still under the injunction to stay silent at all times, and just stood there. "Now", the veterinarian went on, "Don't worry! Although it says 'veterinarian' on the door, that's only a bit of 'window dressing' - I'm a fully qualified doctor really. They wouldn't trust extremely valuable property like the slaves here to an unqualified hack, would they? And I've done hundreds of 'skinnings - it's not difficult, after all, as even medically untrained people, like rabbis, can do it. Well, at least on little babies and kids - with a fully mature cock, it's a tad more difficult, but the principle's the same. Now.... Lets' get on with it..... Sit down on that chair..." Well, he was right. It actually didn't take long, and it was painless - I'd been worried that he'd do it without anaesthetic, as when he'd punched the hole for my snout ring. But once I was sat down he gave me an injection into my cock, waited for a couple of minutes for it to take effect, then it was over before I even knew it. Look, I didn't want it done, as no mature man wants to lose a part of himself, but I recognised I had no choice - the owner had decreed it, and there wasn't a blind thing I could do about it without risking terrible punishments for myself and my comrades. He mopped at the cut ends of my skin with something that stopped the bleeding, and put a kind of giant sticking plaster around the end to cover the wound. "Don't go fucking, or even wanking, for about a week", he told me. "You can't help getting erect, of course, especially as you're cinched, but friction on the wounds would definitely b e a bad idea. But after a week, you can go at it gently - I'd wank at first, rather than fucking.... you do fuck, don't you?" I realised he was expecting a reply, and it was OK to speak, so I muttered "Sir, yes, sir...". "Good. We need more men who fuck here - a lot of the guys like taking it, but there aren't a lot of us who give it. So it's always good when one of the new slaves turns out to be a 'top' - it's more difficult when he has to be fucked, of course, but the rest of the time it really helps to keep the rest of the slaves happy. Anyway, keep that cock of yours out of your mates' asses for a bit longer, but then you'll be fine." Actually, I hadn't thought of it like this before. I'd realised that I did like fucking, after my experience with Stu, and I could see that there were probably more guys that liked to take it, rather than give it. Perhaps I was in for interesting times in the slave pen at night. End Of Part 8