A story written by Pete Brown. (Part 7 of 21). Click here to see all the published chapters of the story.
We went back into the gym, and Gary showed me the control mechanisms in place – you had to touch your name on a screen on each machine, and then it would automatically set your parameters, and start to monitor the time you spent on it. “There’ s a check-up every week”, Gary told me, “And if you haven’t put enough time in on each of the machines, you’re in trouble – unless, that is, a client has hired you for a multiple day stay, and then you’re not necessarily expected to come back here to exercise.”
As well as all the hurt from my caned ass, my ringing and my ‘skinning, I felt generally shattered – when you’re used to leading an active life, with lots of exercise, you do feel it when you’re not able to work out, don’t you? So I was glad of the opportunity to do some active exercise, but when I touched my name on the weights machine, I soon realised the problem: it was set much higher than I would have chosen, and it indicated to me that I needed to keep up a fairly brisk pace for fifteen minutes, for it to count towards my total at al!. It was tough – I was soon absolutely covered in sweat: this was no “fun” workout at my club, but real, hard, muscle-toughening work. I didn’t think I could keep up the pace or the effort for the whole time. But I kind of knew I was going to have to, to avoid punishment if I was to fulfil my quota in the week, so I persevered.
Gary saw me when I’d finished, standing there, hands on knees, trying to recover my breath, and he grinned at me: he, too, looked a bit out of breath, but it seems that he was only generally required to do the equivalent of hard jogging for his cardiovascular good, as the intention was to keep him “slim looking” and not build up his muscles too much.
Most of the other guys, I noticed, were having a hard time of it, too. And even when I did something simple like running, they made it tough by titling the machine at a very steep angle so that the run was all uphill!
I couldn’t do more than an hour, and I was exhausted at the end of it. And I’d always thought I was fit, with my work, and the time I spent at the gym. I was now beginning to understand the difference between being fit as a hobby, and being fit because my owner considered that it would make me better at my job. And as a slave, if my owner wanted me to be really fit, I knew that I would have no choice – I couldn’t slacken off, or miss a day, or anything: it would be work, work, work, until he considered that my body was perfect.
There were three other guys in the showers when I decided to pack it in for that day, and I didn’t mind stripping off my sweat-soaked shorts and standing there under the communal shower heads with them – after all, I was in good shape myself, and even though I’d lost my ‘skin now, there was still more than enough of my dick left to show them that I was very much above average in that department! We stood there exchanging details of how long we’d got to serve for, and from the way they were talking about life, I started to get the impression that they all thought they’d got it easy. “Look, Steve”, a guy who I could see from his tattoos was called Sam, “There’s a lot worse slave assignments you could have pulled if you hadn’t been bought by this place – the road gangs, the mines, or just stuck for sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, working on some fucking production line, trying to keep the costs down enough to make it worthwhile to manufacture here – it’s about the only way a company can compete with those coolies now, using slaves. So this is pretty good – most of the clients are pretty nice guys on the whole, with very few bastards, and once you get used to it, it can be a lot of fun.”
He turned away from me then, and to my amazement took one of the hoses from the wall, handed it to the guy standing next to him, and asked him to help him out. Without even batting an eyelid his friend stood there, probing at Sam’s hole and gently inserting the nozzle, then Sam just waited as his insides filled. He walked casually over to the lavatory bowl, squatted there for a moment or so, then came back for more. “This is the worst bit, Steve”, he added conversationally, as if talking o another guy whilst you’re administering an enema to yourself is the most naturel thing in the world. “But you soon get used to it. And we don’t normally work more than every other day, to give them time to get all the tests done. I’m working tonight, of course, but I’ll have the day off tomorrow – that’s better than a lot of free men achieve, isn’t it?”
Gary came in then, stripped off, and came over and joined us under the water. To my embarrassment and amazement, he dropped to his knees and tried to soap my dick and balls, and I had to push him away. Sam saw this, laughed, and said “You need to watch young Gary, Steve! He’s a real cock hound – always after the first taste or feel of a new dick! Hey, Gary… What’s wrong with me? Fed up with my dick, are you?”
“You’re working, Sam… You know our owners don’t like us to play around when we’re going to work – we need to keep our cum for the paying clients.”
“Aw, come on, Gary! Come and just let me fuck you a little bit – I won’t cum – but I need to be reminded what a young, sweet ass is like, as the guy I’ve got tonight is really old and flabby. You were eager enough yesterday…. But was that before you set eyes on Steve? Are you going to let him fuck you tonight, Gary? Oh, come on… Before I get jealous…”
could tell they were joking with each other, but began to wonder if they might be serious – I mean, you just don’t joke about fucking another guy, do you? Amongst my buddies – or should that be my former buddies as they always say that free men and slaves can’t be friends – would they still be friends with me as a slave if I met them in the street? – we didn’t make jokes like that; even when we were a bit drunk and on a fishing trip without women, we never really talked about sex: one guy who did, always bragging about how he fucked his current girlfriend, was always regarded as not being quite a gentleman.
As Sam trotted off to expel another load of his enema, Gary looked at me and was suddenly serious. “If you do want to fuck, Steve, we’d better do it now… There’s no space in a close confinement cage for stuff like that…”
“Gary, I don’t want to fuck, OK? I don’t want to fuck other guys, or have them fuck me! I don’t do that sort of thing…”
“Steve, it’s allowed – our owners think it makes for a good atmosphere here if we’re all fuck buddies. We’re not supposed to do it on a day when we’re booked to work, but on the other days we can fuck or whatever, if we want to. I heard Master Jed tell Master Brett that it was better that we should ‘let off steam’ with each other, rather than charging around in testosterone-fuelled frustration.”
“No, Gary! I don’t want to fuck or be fucked. If I get too frustrated, I’ll do what I always do, I’ll….”
I stopped there, realising that I was about to say that I’d jerk myself off. Well, you just don’t do that, do you? I mean, every guy knows that every other guy jerks off, but you never admit it, do you?
“Hey, Steve… If you mean you’ll jerk off, then we can do it together… That’s fun! Does that mean those scabs and stuff on your dick have healed….?”
“Mind your own fucking business, Gary! My dick and its status are my business, not yours.”
He just kind of shrugged, and with a kind of sly smile said “That’s just where you’re wrong, Steve! Your dick is now the business of Master Jed and Master Brett! Dicks, and ass holes, are very much their business. But you’ll soon learn… Come on, let’s get dressed, and go and eat – you heard Master Brett say I could have a double ration, didn’t you?”
Gary’s description of what we then did, “getting dressed”, hardly seemed completely correct as all we had were the tiny shorts, but he showed me where the pile was – just two sizes, one that was just above the obscene for him, and the other larger size, which was definitely obscene on me! We then went through into the bunk room, and there were a number of the guys just lounging around on the beds, and some were sitting around the table at one end of the room. Gary went straight to a spigot on the wall and got a beaker of water, then touched a screen against his name, and there was a whirring noise and slave chow fell into a bowl.
“See, Steve? Master Brett is a good master – I really have got double rations. Come on, get yours…”
I looked at the screen, found “Steve”, and touched it. What looked like a very small portion of slave chow fell into a bowl, and Gary and I went over to join the guys sitting around the table.
Two guys moved apart to make room for me to sit, and introduced themselves, then looked at my bowl. “Ah, they think you’re too well fed – don’t worry – it always happens when you first arrive: they really cut your portion down for the first week or so. Coupled with the hard exercise, it soon burns off any excess fat – not that you’ve got much, I must say – and it keeps you hungry. There’s a feeling here that a hungry slave is more attentive to the client, in the hope that the client will reward him with a few peanuts or something… And it also means that you’re very keen to mop up any cum that may be going!”
As he said this, my companion, who I saw was named Mike, had run his hand over my belly to feel my general tone, and was smiling slightly at the end of the sentence. I couldn’t decide whether he was joking or not about being keen to eat cum as I was so hungry. But I began to understand more of these guys’ lives, the life I was going to live: it wasn’t thought to be at all unusual to touch another guy’s body, evidently, as Mike had run his hand over me without even asking, or seeming to think it was in any way important. I mean, you don’t touch another guy, do you? Especially not somewhere like his belly? And especially not when it’s bare! They obviously had a different view of personal space, and the way one guy treats another, than I then did.
As the conversation flowed around the table and they discussed the various clients they’d been with the previous night, or were going to tonight, I sensed a real feeling of camaraderie. We might all be slaves, and slaves required to sell our bodies to other men, but we were also buddies – I thought that this at least might make it a bit more bearable. And it seemed they all had almost an affection for Gary – form the odd bits and pieces dropped into the conversation I gathered that most of them were in their late twenties to mid thirties, and that Gary was very much the “baby”, being only twenty two. Like me, most of the guys were fairly big and well muscled, and there again Gary was the odd man out, being slighter and generally more wiry.
Gary held his own in the general conversation and the kind of joshing that guys do when they’re shooting the breeze, though. When he was laughingly called “a bit of a shrimp” by one of the guys, he shouted out “Well, Larry, the last time I measured my dick against yours in the shower, it wasn’t at all clear to me who was the shrimp!”, and the other guys joined in the laughter – they all seemed to know that Gary’s dick was above average for his body size.
I was just finishing chewing down my slave chow when another slave came in: he must have been six two at least, and, unlike the rest of us, he was black – that really dark, deep black that you usually only see in films about Saharan Africa, not the kind of muddy brown that most of the blacks are in our country (some say as a result of interbreeding with the original slave holders all those years ago). They’d had to use a pale coloured tattoo ink to make his name stand out, and there it was, “Jomo”.
He came and sat next to me, and we all squeezed along the bench to make room. I was getting used now to having the other guy’s naked bodies pressed into mine, and Jomo’s felt perhaps just a little warmer than mine. “So, the new boy”, he said to me. “Experienced, or being trained?”
“Being trained, I guess… I didn’t go with guys….”
“So that was s your loss all your life! I’ll be looking forward to doing a bit of teaching later in the week, then. It should be fun: being as thatched as you are makes you almost as much of a rarity as I am, and I like a rugged, hairy guy for a change.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hasn’t anyone told you? Master Brett and Master Jed like to do the initial training of a new guy, as I guess they like fresh, virgin meat. But before you’re let out to clients, you need lots of experience and expertise, so the rest of us get to train you. You’ll soon get to know every dick, every mouth, and every hole around this table! And you get a double ration of me, as I’m the only black – they really want to make sure that you don’t have any prejudices against black dick. There was a complaint once from a client – some guy over here from Europe on a conference or something, who just didn’t understand that blacks don’t frequent this type of establishment – when the slave he had hired wasn’t as properly enthusiastic as he should have been when he was told to get down and pleasure the client’s black hole with his tongue. The client even went to the City and complained, and we almost got shut down! So now Master Jed and Master Brett make sure all the guys here are unprejudiced, or, if they are prejudiced, they don’t show it! I’m the token black on the staff, and I’m mainly used for ‘familiarisation’ lessons with new guys, and to make sure the credentials of the rest are more or less up to date.”
“So we don’t get many black clients?”
“No, almost none. I suppose they’re a bit more into religion, or something. Or maybe no one has ever told them that guys are fun for sex.”
“But don’t a lot of our clients ask to go with a black guy – I’d have thought you’d have been pretty busy…”
Jomo laughed. “No, Steve, they don’t! I guess most of you white guys have heard that all us black studs are REALLY well hung, and you don’t want to risk the embarrassment of having your little boy dicks alongside a real man cock!”
All the other guys around the table started to shout and yell at him, saying they all knew that they were just as well hung as he was, and to stop being so stupid.
He turned back to me, and went on “But actually it is true that over ninety eight percent of our clients are white guys, and they all choose white guys to go with. And you can understand it, I suppose – a white guy that’s into the dark meat probably likes to live life a bit dangerously, or is a bit more daring. And if you’re like that, you don’t come to an upmarket place like this! You go to the cheaper end of the market, or even risk going into the black bars on the South side and pick up a bit of the freelance trade: the risk only adds to the excitement of humping a black ass. About the only time I ever get to see clients is when we’re putting on a display…”
“You know, or perhaps you don’t…. When there’s a convention in town, they quite often hire a group of us guys to do a performance for them – they’re so liqueured up that they can’t get an erection for themselves, but they can sit there and watch us all fucking each other. Then they all like to see a black taking it from a load of whites… Until, that is, I fuck a white guy in turn. The last time it was Gary – they all hurled abuse at me as my big black body covered the little white boy, and fucked him so hard he screamed! It was a huge success – just what they paid for.”
“Yes, nigga – but when I then fucked you, they all cheered even more”, Gary retorted. “That’s what guys like to see – a big black ass performing its proper role, as a hole for a white dick to fuck!”
All the guys, including Jomo were all laughing at this. And I could tell that they all thought it was just part of the general banter that went on amongst them, and there was no ill feeling on either Gary’s part, for having to take Jomo’s dick, or Jomo, for taking Gary’s. Gary turned to me then and said “Come on, Steve, if you’ve finished – no point in delaying – remember, Master Brett said it was the close confinement cage tonight….”
He got up and motioned for me to follow him, and some of the guys started to clap and laugh, telling me to “Be careful with that one!”. I wondered what he fuck they meant, but it seemed to be a matter of amusement to them, so I wasn’t particularly worried.
Gary led me through to the gym area, and from a cupboard at the far end rolled out a cage, literally. I mean, when I’ve said I was in a cage before, I’ve meant a cell, really, with bars forming one side. But this thing truly was a cage, just like those things you see at airports when an owner has to transport a large pet. The only difference was the shape – instead of being roughly cubic, this one was a bit like a coffin – seven feet long, I suppose, and about four feet wide and four feet high. Gary opened the top – the whole top opened, on hinges, and motioned for me to get in. The base was covered with a thin mattress, and I went to step in.
“No, Steve, lose the shorts!”, Gary said, smiling. So I shrugged, let them drop to the floor, and lay down. Gary stood there watching me, then a guard came in.
“OK, Gary…. In with you”, he said, “Then I’ll lock you in.”
With a huge smile on his face, Gary dropped his shorts, then, to my amusement, leapt in beside me, lying alongside me in the very confined space.
“Right, you guys, enjoy yourselves…. See you tomorrow morning”, the guard said cheerily as he closed the lid on us, and snapped a latch closed.
We lay there, and I tried to move my body away from Gary’s, but the thing was only just big enough to hold us both, and there was no real way I could keep from touching him except by forcing my own body against the bars, which was very uncomfortable. Still, I did it, but it made no difference – Gary just slid close to me, rested himself all along the length of me, then put his face close to mine and said “Hey, Steve – the ideas is that we get to know each other, right? Don’t be shy – you can’t be comfortable like that! And you’ll find it can get a bit cool in here all night long, unless you’ve got another body to be close to. Come on, be sensible….”
As he was saying this, I could feel his legs pressing against mine, and he managed to insert one of his between my two. He started to bend his leg, and I felt his warm thigh pressing against my ass hole. “Come on, Steve…. That’s better, isn’t it? I can feel your hot ass on my thigh…. Now, you do the same, and we’ll both be much better…..”
Of course I didn’t want to, but it was so cramped, and I could see that we’d both be better off like that, so very tentatively I raised my leg, and pressed my thigh up between his legs. It felt very odd at fist – Gary was delightfully warm up there, and I felt something I’d never experienced before – a guy’s loose, soft sac lying against my hairy skin. Gary responded by sighing deeply in contentment, putting his arm around my body, and pulling himself closer to me. My dick was being pressed close to him, and I realised that what I could feel was his dick and his pubes – and for some reason, I found this exciting, so exciting that my own dick started to stiffen.
We couldn’t sit up or anything in the very enclosed space, but Gary’s head suddenly went down on my chest, and he began to suck and tease my nipples. I wriggled, and tried to push his head away: he stopped for a moment, looked up at me, smiling, and murmured “Oh come on, Steve – I know you like this. I saw how you reacted when Master Brett played with your tits…. I wish I had lovely juicy tits like yours, and these fantastic dark aureoles and all this hair…. Mmmmmm…”
He plunged down again, and it was such an exciting feeling that all I could do was throw my head back as far as I could and start to laugh. My dick had other ideas, though, and went ramrod solid, and I experienced that wonderful sensation of another guy’s skin against my bare dick head for the first time.
Gary took hold of one of my hands and put it on his chest, and started to push it backwards and forwards over his nips – they were very unlike mine, being just like tiny, hard nubs under my palm, but even so, the action seemed to excite Gary, as whenever his mouth was not full of me, he was kind of groaning in excitement. We went on like this for what seemed like a long time, then he put his face close to mine again. We were both laughing – no, it was more like giggling. I hadn’t done that since I was a kid – that half-insane, helpless feeling that you have when you just can’t stop yourself. Finally we quietened down again, and just lay there, our bodies locked together, hard dicks against each others bellies. I was aware for the first time of just how wonderful another guy’s body feels when it’s really close to you – sure, I suppose I’d had this kind of thing from a couple of my girl friends, but it wasn’t the same: they weren’t hard like Gary, and just didn’t feel as good with their layers of subcutaneous fat.
“So, Steve, not so bad is it?”
“So, do you want to fuck? I’m not allowed to fuck you, as Master Brett always likes to take the cherry of new guys. But you can fuck me… That’s allowed.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. Is your dick still hurting from where they had you ‘skinned? Hey, it’s pretty neat, whilst I think of it – I meant to tell you that having your dick head partially covered like that is really cool: I’m sure a lot of the clients will really go for it.”
“No, thanks for asking, though – my dick’s feeling fine now.”
“So why don’t we fuck?”
“I don’t fuck guys, Gary.”
“Oh, come on! Why ever not? I don’t mind – in fact, I’d like to have that dick of yours inside me.”
“Oh, Steve, I’m sorry, I should have realised….. You’re shy, aren’t you? Look, it doesn’t matter if you can’t do it properly – we’ve all got to learn. I’ll show you – there’s no need to be embarrassed…”
“Gary, NO! I’ve told you, I don’t fuck guys. It’s bad enough having to lie here like this, with your dick sticking in to me….” Although I protested like that, I suppose I was a bit ashamed and embarrassed, as I really didn’t know what to do, actually.
“Steve, get real! The reason why Master Brett ordered the close confinement cage is so that you can get used to feeling another man’s body against yours. A lot of guys like you are a bit shy at first – they seem to think there’s something wrong with the touch of another man. But there isn’t, you know… It’s perfectly natural….”
“Look, I’m not shy, and I’m not scared. I just don’t think it’s right….” Well, I wasn’t going to admit I didn’t know what I was doing, would I?
“But you’ve got no choice, Steve. Your owner decides what’s right and what’s wrong for the next ten years, remember that. And you’re wasting time now – you and I could be discovering how much fun it is….”
“NO, Gary. How many more times do I have to say it?”
He went silent then, and I tried to move my body as far from his as possible, and go to sleep. But of course, as you’ll know, when you’re sleeping with another guy, especially when there’s not a lot of space, you get disturbed all the time, don’t you? I could feel the heat of Gary’s body against mine, and he tossed and turned gently a lot of the time, so I kept waking up and I suppose I was only dozing, really. To try to make myself more comfortable I spooned up behind him, so that his back was pressed into my chest, and put an arm around him to sort of hold him steady – this seemed to calm him: perhaps he got some comfort from being held like that. But I had another problem a couple of moments later – the constant small movements of his buttocks against my crotch gave me an erection, and it was bloody uncomfortable. In desperation I put a foot between his calves and levered his legs apart. My dick then slipped between his thighs, and when I lowered his legs it was comfortably trapped there. I could feel the warm moistness of his ass against my dick, and the pressure of his soft inner thighs on me was not unpleasant. Almost against my will I tried moving myself backwards and forwards a bit, and my dick responded by sending waves of excitement to my brain. It wasn’t as good as fucking one of my girlfriends, but it was pretty close.
I knew it was wrong. I mean, I shouldn’t be doing that to the sleeping guy nestled against me, should I? But you know how it is – when you’re sexually excited and you’ve got a raging hard on, there’s just no way you can stop, is there? So I pressed on, kind of jerking myself off, using Gary’s thighs in stead of my hand, and, of course, the inevitable happened – I shot my load. The hand of my arm that was draped over him had wandered down, almost without my noticing, and had brushed his dick and come to rest just below his balls – it now was all wet and slimy with my cum, and I realised what I’d done – Gary’s thighs would now be covered in my cum. Oh fuck – what was I going to do?
It seems Gary was playing possum, though, as the instant I’d finished I felt his hand take mine, then he pulled forward slightly, releasing my dick from its warm confinement. He turned over and faced me, and ran his hands lightly over my body- his hands slimed with my cum. I could feel his breath on my neck, and that special smell of cum drifted up to my nose as it was forced out from between our moving bodies which acted rather like a bellows.
“Oh, Steve….”, Gary sighed. “Oh, Steve…. I love your body. I love having you close to me like this…. You said you didn’t want to fuck, but you wanted to be with me after all, didn’t you?”
“Gary… Look, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to cum…. I didn’t want to fuck you, I don’t fuck guys….”
“But you do like me, don’t you, Steve?”
“Of course I do. But liking a guy doesn’t mean…..”
“Well it should, Steve… Here…..” As he murmured this, his face still pressed close to my neck, he had taken his hand in mine and moved it down his body. I could feel the blood pulsing away underneath his warm skin, through the thin sheen of sweat that covered him. Over his belly I moved, then into the wiry thicket of his clipped pubes. Gary moved my hand down a little further, and I felt his dick for the first time. Well, I suppose it was the first dick of another guy that I’d ever felt.
You’ll all know that excitement the first time you touch another dick – the warmth of it, the silky softness of the skin, but with the concealed excitement of something hard and solid underneath…. the way it seems to move of its own accord, giving little jerks and twitches as you touch it, quite out of control of the guy it belongs to, almost as if it has a mind of its own. I ran my hand lightly along the shaft, feeling it against the base of my fingers as they almost instinctively curled around it, and then the excitement as the flange around the head bumped into my thumb and forefinger. I just wanted to know more, to explore this exciting new sensation, and I allowed my thumb to stray onto Gary’s dick head, and lightly brush his piss slit. It felt all moist – surely he couldn’t be leaking piss? I went to move my thumb away almost in horror, until I sensed that this was not piss, but pre-cum.
Gary was breathing hard, and his breath against the delicate skin of my neck, under my ear, was somehow exciting. He moved his body closer to me, wrapping his legs between mine, and was murmuring “Yes… Yes… Yes, Steve…. Please…. Go on…..”
Lightly, scared at first about what I was doing, I stroked his dick gently, then as it was clear that he was responding with huge enjoyment to what I was doing, I speeded up. His little sighs and moans of pleasure soon became big gasps, and I felt that incredible sensation of his dick going even harder: you all know how it is – you think the other guy’s dick couldn’t be harder, but as you stroke and tease it, somehow it finds even more power and strength, and it responds to your hand by thickening even more, and resisting any efforts you might make to push it down. The inevitable happened, of course – Gary shot his cum all over me as we lay there: I could feel it splash against my belly – but I was so excited by the feel of his dick that I carried on jerking him off. His whole body arched and convulsed and his little moans of excitement and joy changed to big shouts of “No… Steve… No… Stop….”
I was terrified for a moment, as I thought I’d hurt him! Then he hugged me, pulling us so close that we were almost as one body, and I heard him laughing, almost hysterically. “Gary… Are you OK?”, I asked nervously.
“Oh, Steve… Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be, lying here with you? But I’m like a lot of guys – once I’ve shot, my dick is incredibly sensitive, and if you carry on stroking me it’s almost painful. Well, you know, not exactly painful, but the sensation is so strong that it actually hurts, in a nice sort of way….”
There was no way of knowing how long we lay there, with Gary and me locked together like that, but we were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a guard, who undid the top of the cage so that we could climb out.
“See, I told you that Gary’s a bit of a dick hound”, the guard said to me laughingly. “Look at you two….”
To my horror I realised that my body was slimed with Gary’s cum, and as I looked down I could see little balls of it in my pubes, looking almost like tiny glittering decorations on a Christmas tree. I went to cover myself with my hands, but Gary and the guard were both smiling and talking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world – which, I suppose it is, really, two guys enjoying each other – and I relaxed.
“Come on, Steve…”, Gary said, pushing me forwards with his hand on my butt. “Let’s go and shower, then have something to eat…. You’d better start working out early, as Master Brett said he was going to continue our training later on.”
Pete Brown – the interview with the author
Pleasure Slave (all chapters)
Overview Pete Brown stories
Kinky Art by Theo Blaze