When I got back to our Centre and pulled into the yard, Andy came running over as you’d expect – he’d been out watching the slaves run the course, and needed to know if I had fresh instructions. As soon as he saw the new slave sitting strapped in beside me, and the way the man was clearly in distress from the hurt the wounds on his back and butt were causing him, he opened the door and began to undo the straps holding him down.
I got out and watched, and Andy was being his normal helpful self, telling the slave that he was being as gentle as possible and that he’d soon be out. I carried on watching as the slave gingerly put his feet down onto the ground, and then stretched himself: there were bits of newspaper stuck all over the back of him with the congealed blood from the whipping, and I was glad that I’d used them to cover the seat. The slave looked around him as if taking his bearings, and the next minute he was off – running away from Andy and me as we stood there, then picking up speed as he saw the way out of the yard. It was such a stupid thing to do – with his hands still cuffed in front of himself he had no real prospect of escaping, and he couldn’t even get up any real speed: not only were the wounds presumably hurting him a great deal, but you just can’t run very fast without using your arms to pump along.
Andy went to run after him, but I stopped him, “He’s heading out across the course, and I’ll let him go a bit so he exhausts himself. And I think I’ll go after him myself…..”
I took my time to stroll over to the little four-wheel quad bike I sometimes used to get out to the farthest point on the course quickly (continuing expansion now meant we had a very considerable area), and started it up. I like riding the thing, actually, and I went after the slave, seeing the looks of astonishment on the faces of the trainees as I roared past them. The quad bike is also used as a kind of “emergency” vehicle in case there’s serious injury out on the course, and in a holder behind the driver’s seat there’s a long pole with a loop on the end that can be used to fish a floundering slave out of one of the deep water hazards we have, and as I got close to the slave, who was now running as fast as he could, I grabbed this pole and pushed it in-between his flying legs, causing him to crash to the ground. And before you think me intolerably cruel, let me remind you that he was attempting the thing that slaves should never do – to run away from his rightful place, so it was his own fault! But I did wait until we were on a soft, very muddy part of the course so it was more of a big slpot and splash, rather than being on one of the possibly bone-breaking paved parts.
He lay there in the mud, gasping and panting, and looking utterly defeated. I felt a bit sorry for him, actually, as he lay there on his belly, as some of the wounds on his back did look very bad indeed. He was struggling to try to get to his feet, and I pushed down hard with my booted foot on his bum, causing him to collapse. “Lie still for a bit and recover your breath.”, I told him. He was a persistent buggar, though, and the moment I moved slightly away to open the quad-bike’s pannier, he was struggling to get to his feet again.
We always carry a length of rope in the bike as it’s useful for so many things, and I now quickly formed a running knot in one end, and slipped it over the slave’s neck, pulling the noose tight to hold it there. As he finally got to his feet I tied the other end to the back of the bike, and called “Now you’d better really run – I’m not stopping, and if you don’t keep up, or if you fall, you’ll strangle yourself….”
He was shouting some sort of abuse as usual as I put the bike into gear, and set off. It was hard for me, actually – I wanted to make him really run, really work, but I didn’t actually want to risk injuring him: although I hadn’t paid all that much for him and it would be no great financial loss, I have to admit to a grudging admiration for his courage, albeit rather misplaced courage; and there was something about his body that I found exciting. Actually, I think I saw a lot of my young self in him: both army, fit, strong, brave…. I remembered how I’d felt when I was first enslaved, and this man was at least trying to do something about it, however stupid.
I didn’t spare him at all, as I reckoned that if he was totally exhausted he’d be less liable to cause trouble when we got back – not that we couldn’t handle it, but if it was too bad, and too “public”, I’d be forced to take strong corrective action to let the other slaves see that discipline was being maintained – action that might permanently damage or disfigure him. I therefore drove as fast as I could, consistent with him being able to keep up if he pushed himself to the limit, and deliberately went through some of the shallow water features (freezing cold at that time of year), and through the long grass and bushy scrub at the sides – the stinging nettles were probably painful but would cause no lasting harm, and the scratches and lacerations from the brambles would soon heal.
When we got back to the yard with him desperately clutching at the rope with his cuffed hands to prevent it tightening around his neck any further, he collapsed and lay there on the concrete, his limbs twitching and his lungs sucking in air desperately. Andy went to help him, but I shook my head and said “Go and find Winston and Clyde, and get them over here now.”
Winston and Clyde were a matched pair of big slaves that we were planning to show together as “litter mates” – they were in fact brothers, with Winston being a year older than Clyde, and they had that very stocky build that some men have. We’d played to this, and had deliberately developed their musculature in a way that we rarely did, so that they were verging on being over developed. They were each just under six feet tall, rather hairy (we’d let them keep the thatches on their chests and bellies as this tended to emphasise their big physiques), and amongst other interesting features they had were really thick cocks – it didn’t appear so at first sight as they were in proportion to the rest of their big build, but the moment you tried to get your hand around one you at once knew that these men were exceptional. When I bought them they were so glad that I’d bought both of them as they had not wanted to be separated, and indeed remained very grateful to me: they knew that they’d been properly convicted and sentenced following a stupid attempt at being “strong arm” men trying to rob a building society branch near their former home in East London, but their fear was of never seeing each other again. I thought at first that they were lovers, but it seemed that as they grew up they’d done nothing more than you’d expect a pair of brothers to do – wanking each other at first, and then sometimes sharing one woman if they paid for a prostitute. I’d debated with myself as to whether they should do more, and had decided they should: all my slaves needed to be able to give cock, and take it, and it was actually quite amusing to see these two big brothers trying to put aside their inhibitions and really get stuck in to each other. Once they’d tried it, though, like almost all men they’d come to discover they liked it, and now they spent most nights together in the same bed (although, Andy tells me, they were not averse to “spit roasting” some of the other slaves if they thought that someone had been disrespectful to them!).
They came off the course and stood there panting slightly. “This is a new slave who hasn’t learned yet how to behave”, I told them. “I want you to look after him for a few days – as you can see, he’s reckless and tried to escape, and if that happens again I won’t have any choice but to take his balls, so I look to you two to keep him safe and secure around here.”
The slave began to curse again, and I signalled to Winston, who causally slapped him – and a casual slap from Winston’s meaty arm is not something you’d want to experience. “Shut the fuck up, you idiot!”, I snapped at him. “I’m trying to help you here, although you may not understand this yet!”
I told Andy to fetch cuffs, and attached the slave in-between Winston and Clyde, so that his left wrist was chained to Winston’s right, and his right to Clyde’s left. All three of them stood there then sort of shaking their arms experimentally, and the contrast between the two heavyset big men and the lithe and limber slave between them was, well, interesting. I particularly liked the way the dark all-over tan on Winston and Clyde made the stark whiteness of the new slave’s bum stand out in such sharp relief. I went on “Now, Winston, Clyde, this slave is your responsibility. I want you to make sure he eats – no silly hunger strike stuff – and exercises around the course: it should be interesting to see all three of you trying to do some of the obstacles chained together like that. But no fucking him – when the time is right, I’m going to take his cherry.”
Clyde looked a bit sullen at that news, but asked “Sir, can we wank him, and make him suck us….”
“No. Not unless he wants to – and I mean really wants to, not with one of you twisting his arm or anything like that! He’s a virgin, and my guess is that he’s had no experience of any kind with other men, and that’s the way it’s to stay until I decided otherwise.”
The slave was shivering now, as he cooled down from his gruelling experience, and it wasn’t a warm day. He seemed to be so exhausted that he’d lost the power to protest, even when I had mentioned taking his cherry. “OK, you two, take him off an get a good hot shower. But be gentle with him, OK? He’s wounded from a bull whipping, and although you’ve got to get him clean, try to do it with as little pain as possible: he’s still at that point where he can’t admit to another man that he’s hurting, so you’ll need to keep a close watch as you wash him.”
“Yes, sir”, Winston snapped (as the elder brother he liked being in charge).
“Oh…” I looked at the slave. “What’s your name? I haven’t had time to read your sale documents.”
“Mike.”
“Two things, Mike: one, that’s the last time you ever reply to me without calling me ‘sir’. If you fail to show me the proper respect that I’m due as your owner, then Winston and Clyde have my full permission to slap you again. And secondly, you can’t be called Mike: I’ve got a Mike already, and it makes for confusion to have more than one slave here in training with the same name.”
Turning to Andy, I went on “What do you reckon, Andy? Something simple…. We haven’t got a Jon currently….”
Andy gave me one of his smiles, to show he was half joking. “What about ‘Rebel’, sir? Or ‘Reb’ for short? ‘Reb’ is a good name in training, and if you do put him in a show, ‘Rebel’ has that touch of excitement about it…. And it seems to fit his nature…..”
“You can’t give me a fucking new name….”, the slave began, but he never finished the sentence as both Winston and Clyde simultaneously slapped at his bum, which caused his words to break off into a scream as it really must have hurt him, not only from the sheer force of the blows, but because of the open whip wounds there still.
“Listen, Reb”, I told him, keeping my face close to his. “I can do what I like with you. You’re not a soldier any more, you’re not even a prisoner, you’re a slave. My slave. And an owner can do what he likes with his slave – you’re my property, and that’s all there is to it, and you’ll find out more about that in the weeks to come.”
“Off you go then….”, I told the three of them, before ‘Reb’ could say anything more and get slapped again. Then as the two big slaves have dragged, half carried the still slightly protesting new slave off towards the barn, I added to Andy “Go with them, and look after him a bit: he’s not worth much, but there’s something about him…. He won’t admit defeat, and he thinks that’s being tough and brave, and doesn’t yet recognise that it’s brave sometimes to accept what’s currently inevitable whilst building up your strength for a better fight later…. I reckon he’s terrified inside, but can’t admit it or show it, and so we’ve got this ridiculous show of bravado. Try to get him to see sense, will you? I really don’t want to have to have him mutilated: a bull whipping has failed to tame him, and the only thing left is gelding.”
“Yes, sir”, Andy said, looking worried now. “You wouldn’t do that to a bloke, would you, sir?”
“Andy, you know I’ve never yet had the vet in here to do that to a slave! But we’ve got a real problem here: if we can’t at least tame him to the extent that he’s outwardly respectful, I may have to. What would happen to discipline in all the other slaves if they saw Reb getting away with being disrespectful and disobedient? So do your best with him, Andy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And telephone the vet and ask him to call by on his rounds – some of those wounds in young Reb aren’t going to heal by themselves, and stitches will be needed I think. And probably he can clean them more deeply that you slaves can in the showers. Tell the vet to do it without anaesthetic as Reb needs to feel the pain for his own good – he’s at that point where pain is affirming the rightness of his position to him. But afterwards make sure he gets some really strong pain killers: there’s no point in him being uncomfortable and unable to sleep all night, as he’s on the edge of exhaustion and I want him thinking clearly tomorrow, not with his brains half scrambled with tiredness.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh… And I meant what I said about sex! He’s not to be interfered with at all… Not even touching his cock and ‘skinning him back or anything! He’s chained to Winston and Clyde, and he can stay like that for the near future until he’s calmed down a bit, but that’s only like being with his buddies in the army – well, a bit more, perhaps. But he’s used to showering with other men and even sleeping close to them when they’re out in a tent on manoeuvres….”
“It will be hard on Winston and Clyde, sir….”
“Oh, they can carry on playing with each other if they want to! Who knows – the smell of cum as those two shoot it all over each other might actually get young Reb interested!”
I went and watched the three salves shower. It was somehow rather erotic to see the two big magnificently muscled men with the smaller, slighter, more lithe one in-between them. And with their wrists cuffed together it was necessary for them to get used to the bodies of the others – well, for Winston and Clyde it wasn’t a problem as they’d been doing it all their lives, but Reb clearly found it difficult to have his body washed by the two big slaves ,and also didn’t like it when his hands and forearms were dragged over the flesh of Winston and Clyde. I remembered how it had been when I was in the army – you showered with your mates of course, but it was almost always “no touching” – the most you might do was occasionally, very occasionally, was wash a mate’s back to help him get rid of some particularly difficult mud after a very hard exercise.
As they stood there ,though, I saw there was a problem – the water washing away down the drain was faintly tinged with red, and it was evident that Reb was still bleeding from his wounds. Clyde and Winston had been as gentle as possible in trying to pick off the blood-soaked newspaper from Reb’s back and bum, but as they did, it opened up the places where he’d been whipped and had restarted the flow. Reb must be hurting, I knew, but he was doing the macho thing and trying not to let it show. Consequently I called to them to get out of the shower and to wrap Reb in a big bath sheet, as I saw he was beginning to shiver with both the pain and exhaustion, and strode off to the office to wait for the vet.
Fortunately the vet was in our area and came within an hour, and by this time I’d had Winston and Clyde take Reb into our small “surgery” – with our general expansion it seemed as if we frequently needed the services of a vet, so it was convenient to have one place, with a steel-topped table, a sink, and a few simple things like bandages and so on where he could treat slaves in a clean, relatively sterile environment.
I had Winston and Clyde lie Reb face own on the steel table – he looked pretty vulnerable lying there, and was shivering badly now, so I turned up the heat in the room. The vet gave a low whistle as he made his preliminary examination, and commented that whoever had done the whipping had really been brutal as the lash had bitten deeply, especially where Reb’s body turned a corner. “The bastard allowed the whip to wrap almost right round to hit his chest and belly”, he showed me, “So on the sides, where there’s little muscle, it’s almost cut through to the bone.”
The vet continued to examine Reb and then came back to me. “All of the wounds need cleaning out and disinfecting properly, as it’s so easy for a really nasty infection to get started and spread. But some of them need stitches – they’ll never close up by themselves unless the slave lies totally still, and for a vigorous young buck like this one I’d think that’s really not possible.”
He went to get out a syringe, and I looked at him questioningly. “…to deaden the pain as I work.”, he said.
“No. Let him feel it! The whole point of a bullwhipping is to make the slave understand the agony that waits for him if he ever disobeys again. It will do this one good to be reminded that the pain isn’t just confined to the whipping itself, but goes on long afterwards. So just do it.”
“I can’t work on the slave, especially when I’m putting in the stitches, as he’ll thrash around.”
I looked at Winston and Clyde, and ordered them to really hold Reb’s arms, and to squat under the table and pull them down so that he would be totally immobile, and then asked the vet to begin. As the harsh, astringent antiseptic wash fluid went into his wounds I saw his body start to try and convulse and jerk, but Winston and Clyde held him steady. I could see Reb’s face contorted with the pain, and in spite of himself he began to hiss with the agony he was in, and then to groan softly. As the vet worked on and got to the deeper wounds, he couldn’t help himself and began to cry out as each fresh swab was applied. By the time all the cleansing was finished he was not exactly sobbing, but was making almost a constant keening noise as the vet worked away. He tried to regain control of himself as the vet began to stitch him together, but I could tell it was difficult, and the occasional “Oh fuck….” would escape him involuntarily.
Once the vet was finished I allowed Winston and Dan to let him get up from the table, and he stood there sort of flexing himself experimentally.
“OK, you three, I reckon that’s enough for today. Go and tell the cook I said you can have an early dinner, and then get to bed – Reb looks as if he needs to rest. You can take the mattresses off a couple of beds and put them together on the floor for all three of you to share – and remember, you two, no sex! I want to take Reb myself when he’s fully recovered, and if I find out that there’s been any fucking at all, you two will get a whipping like this. Do I make myself clear?” “Sir, yes!”, the two slaves chorused, and Reb just stood there looking defiant.
Later that evening I went through the barn to make sure all was well, and saw that my orders had been obeyed: Reb was sandwiched between Winston and Clyde, and the two big brutes seemed to have been taking good care of him as they were not crushing him or anything – indeed, it was only the narrowness of the two mattresses that made them all touch each other at all, I believe. I insist that my slaves sleep totally naked – most of them, being young, would do so naturally of course, and through the thin sheet I could see the outline of Clyde and Winston’s thick cocks fully erect. The two men were half awake, and when they saw me they looked at me enquiringly, but I made a gesture to indicate to them that they had no need to get to their feet as I would normally expect, but that they could carry on lying there. Reb, though, looked to be asleep in that deep sleep that only comes from total exhaustion. He wasn’t even hard, I saw as I pulled the sheet off the men so I could take a closer look at them – well, as a concerned owner I did wish to make sure that there was no more blood leaking from Reb, as I doubted he could afford to lose it.
The next morning there was a lot of interest in the canteen when the three slaves came in chained together – they hadn’t been able to put Ts on because of the chains, so all three were bare-chested, and the very livid marks of Reb’s whipping were clearly visible to all. Winston and Clyde were popular blokes and a lot of the other slaves greeted them cheerily, but Reb just stood there between them, scowling and making no attempt at all to greet his new comrades.
After breakfast Andy asked me what I wanted the three slaves to do, and I told him that they should exercise as usual. “He’s been sewn up by the vet, and although it might be painful as the scabs and stitches stretch a bit, I think it’s best to give him something to occupy his mind with.”
“I’ll get the key then, sir.”
“No, Andy. Let them run the course chained together – Reb’s still weak, I think, and Winston and Clyde can help him over the worst obstacles. And it will be good for them all to learn to work as a team rather than as three individuals. And having Winston and Clyde lead him around, there won’t be any opportunity for him to even attempt another escape – I don’t want to risk that.”
It was interesting to see them in action, actually – Winston and Clyde, being so very big and so very strong, had specially high barriers to get over, and extra heavy items to move as they went around, and Reb had to now go over these same barriers and so on even though he was shorter. He was clearly very athletic, but was weak from his ordeal, and he didn’t have an easy time of it at all, and by the time it was the lunch break, he seemed to be all in.
I made them run the course in the afternoon again, and even though the other slaves continued exercising, I again allowed the three of them to get an early dinner from cook and to get to sleep early.
On the fourth day I decided that Reb’s wounds had healed enough, and the long sleeps and good food had clearly revived him. It was therefore time to move him on and remind him that he wasn’t still a soldier, but was now a slave. So that evening I went to the showers as the slaves were coming in off the course and told Winston and Clyde that Reb was to be properly cleaned out inside. He began to struggle and curse them the moment they led him over to the far wall where the enema hoses were; and as they tried to make him bend over so one could be inserted up his arse, he was moving so violently and making such a fuss that I lost my temper. I called out to Winston and Clyde and told them they had my full permission to slap Reb around a bit to make life easier for them, and after a couple of resounding “cracks” had echoed around the tiled enclosure, he seemed to be calmer. He’d evidently not had a proper internal cleansing before as he didn’t know what to do and failed to hold it in properly until he could get over to the drain hole, and Winston slapped him again when he saw some of Reb’s shit on his feet.
The three slaves presented themselves in my room shortly afterwards, and they’d dried themselves and put on regular slave shorts. Andy was there too, and I told him to strip Reb so he went behind the man and pulled his shorts down.
“Right, Reb – you’re here to move on into proper slavehood”, I told him quietly. “Do you notice anything different about you, compared with the other three slaves here – Winston, Clyde, and my chief slave, Andy?”
He remained sullen and silent, and I gestured for Clyde to slap his arse, hard.
“It’s not acceptable behaviour again, Reb! Now either you can start doing he right thing, or I can continue to have you punished. Personally, I don’t care, as I like to see a nicely warmed up bum. So it’s up to you. Now, let’s try again. Do you spot any differences?”
“I’m fucking naked, sir!”
“Apart from that.”
“No, sir.” He sounded really pissed off now.
“Well, Re, here’s the first difference. They’re all wearing a slave collar, so that if they escape, or even get lost, the slave police can quickly and easily see that they belong t o me and can return them to me. They’ve all got collars, and you haven’t, Now, kneel!”
He stood there, looking defiant, so I nodded at Winston who reached around and slapped his bum very hard again, and then both Winston and Clyde in effect forced him to kneel. Andy handed me one of the “humane” chain collars I like to use to avoid scabbing and scarring on the neck and shoulders, and I put it around his neck and snapped the clasp closed.
“There! Collared. If you look at one of the other slaves’ collars you’ll see it has our name, address and telephone number on it, together with the offer of a small reward. You can’t get the collar off as the clasp is locked and bonded once it closes, and you’ll wear that collar for the rest of your life to remind you that you are just property, my property. Feel the weight of it, feel the way it moves on you when you move, and every time it does use that movement to remind yourself that you are a slave, my slave.”
“I’m no man’s property….”, Reb began to shout, so I gestured for Winston and Clyde to slap him a bit to shut him up. Then I gestured to the Winston and Clyde to allow Reb to stand again, and he stood there in front of me. I could tell he wanted to reach up and feel his new collar, but the cuffs still held his hands where Winston and Clyde’s were, at their sides.
“Now, Reb, do you have any idea what the second difference is between you and these other slaves? What let’s them know that they’re my property, subject to my will and not their own, as well as those collars?”
“I don’t know…. Sir.” He said this as if he didn’t care, either!
“Well I’ll tell you. Each of these slaves has experienced me, his owner, up his arse. I like to fuck all my new slaves so that they know they are totally mine. I take possession of them, and they learn that I have the power to force my cock deep inside them, and fill them with my cum. I take it you’ve not been fucked by another man before?”
“I’m not some sort of pervert….”
“..and neither am I, Reb. I’m just doing what’s right and natural. Men have demonstrated their power and dominance over other men for thousands of years, and it’s only recently that our society has again begun to realise that this is a powerful way of signalling to the newly enslaved that their lives have changed irrevocably. Still, I am a little surprised that all you young virile soldiers didn’t experience each other….”
“No way….”
“..and you didn’t even think to use your cocks as powerful instruments to get captured prisoners to confess?”
“It’s against the law! We were all taught that. You can’t rape prisoners….”
I smiled. “Quite right, Reb. But you’re not a prisoner, are you? You’re a slave, remember? And the law is quite different for slaves. You’re my property, and I can do whatever I like with you.”
“Bastard….”, he began, and at another nod from me Winston and Clyde gave him another beating to shut him up.
I’ve got a fucking horse in my room, as even when I was fucking a slave who was perfectly used to taking cock it’s sometimes more exciting and makes for more sport to have a piece of furniture that’s properly adapted for the purpose. It’s OK to fuck in bed, of course, but sometimes it’s just easier to have a properly adjustable horse there so you can position the slave’s arse at exactly the right height for you, and especially if you take the time to adjust the kneeling pads properly, the arse can be really opened up.
There was hardly an opportunity to use any of the fine adjustments, though, as Reb fought like a tiger as Winston and Clyde dragged him over to the horse and then forced his body down on it. Once the leather strap around under his armpits was cinched tight, though, he was pretty much helpless and Winston and Clyde were able to kneel on either side, and I allowed them to let his arms hand relatively loose as I was concerned about cutting their wrists with the cuffs if they had to strain too much. Actually I prefer a slave to be relatively loose on the horse the first time – if you fasten all the straps and so on it makes them feel totally powerless to prevent their rape, and so they can in some measure not “blame” themselves. But if they’re only held down by one body belt, they can thrash around: even though it makes no practical difference as you can rape them anyway and there’s not a thing they can do to stop you, I think it psychologically makes them feel “powerless” and they understand that it is inevitable.
I’m a softy at heart, though, and I know it’s pretty traumatic for a slave the first time and so I do take care to make it as easy as possible – Andy was used to my routine by now, and so he dropped to his knees and began to wank Reb’s cock as it hung between his thighs – Reb tried to prevent him, by closing his legs, but Andy simply then half lay on top of the naked slave and put his hands around his waist to reach and do it from the front. Reb was making a terrible noise as Andy did this, profaning and swearing very loudly, so we decided to gag him – you want to know that the slave is really hating what’s being done to him, but not so much that it hurts your ears, after all!
Interestingly it didn’t take Reb long to cum at all – I suppose those nights when he’d been sandwiched between Clyde and Winston he’d been too inhibited to wank himself, and Andy managed to catch a really large pool of cum in his hand, which he held up to show me with a pleased expression on his face, as if to point out that we had a real man in Reb! And of course as he then bent over Reb’s arse to begin lubing and stretching him for me, Reb twisted and squirmed and shouted through his gag, but with the strap holding him in place he was powerless to prevent the entrance of Andy’s strong fingers, especially as he had so much experience of this from all the slaves we’d had in this position previously.
After a few minutes Andy nodded at me to let me know that Reb was prepared, and I moved around to where the slave could see me to drop my jeans. I kept my T on so my cock was straining upwards from under the hem of it as I stood their eloping down at the slave helpless in front of me.
“Now, Reb, take a good look at this – take a good look at your owner’s cock, a cock that is about to go deep inside you, to take possession of your arse for the first time. “
He was shouting something unintelligible through the gag, and I moved closer to him so that my cock was waving through the air right in front of his eyes. “See, Reb…. Imagine how that’s going to feel as it pushes at your arsehole. And I expect you’ll be like all the other slaves who have been here just as you are now – you’ll try to resist. You’ll try to clamp your hole closed, to prevent your owner taking his rightful pleasure from you. But it won’t work, Reb…. It never does! A big, strong cock like this can always defeat your sphincter… So take my advice, don’t fight it, and you’ll enjoy it a lot more….”
I nodded then, and Andy slicked a little of Reb’s cum over my cock to make it easier for me, and I went and positioned myself behind Reb, and put my hands down onto his bum to prise the lovely white cheeks apart.
It is exciting, actually, to have a man actively resist you as you try to fuck him – especially when he’s tied down helpless. It’s the sheer futility of it as their is no way he can stop you. And the more Reb resisted and bucked and squirmed and screamed through his gag, the more exciting it was for me. Mindful of his wounds I had thought I’d take it slowly and gently for his first time, but the resistance he was putting up inflamed me and made my own passion flare – so much so that as soon as I had my cock head nicely positioned at his tender light brown pucker, I just couldn’t resist almost slamming it in and burying myself deep into him in one big stroke – something that caused his ranting to change to a scream of pure terror, and pain. And you know how it is then, of course: you just forget all about the slave, and all you can focus on is the incredible sensations coming to your brain from your cock. I hardly knew or cared what Reb felt as his wonderfully tight arse caressed and thrilled my cock as I pounded away, and I was genuinely disappointed as I felt my balls contracting and my cum shot up into him all too soon.
After I’d rested a few moments, lying forward so he’d experience the weight of his conqueror holding him down, I pulled out of him and went and stood in front of him once more, my now de-tumescing dick once more at his eye level. He could see my cum and his mixed together on my cock, and I told him gently “That was lesson one, Reb! Later on you’ll get to learn how to clean me up after I’ve fucked you. But the night is not over yet…. It’s Andy’s turn now!”
To be continued …
