A kinky story written by Pete Brown | Chapter 10 of 16

Click here to see all published chapters. Illustration by Theo Blaze.


We left the Admin building, and walked back to the stables. Once there, Hans and Mike were led away and I was shackled into my rickshaw. The Overseer and his friend came out, and we set off, obviously much later than usual, for one of the Overseer’s inspection trips.

I was worried about my oiled body, because of the need to sweat as I ran, and the Overseer must have read my mind because he started talking to his friend, saying “It’ll be a bit slower than usual this morning, as I can’t work the pony hard because of all that oil. It really needs washing off his skin thoroughly, else he can’t sweat properly and he might overheat dangerously and suffer irreparable damage. I don’t want that to happen to him because he suits me well – he knows most of the estate routes, and I hardly have to think at all about driving him once we have set out. He’s quite a ‘willing’ runner, too, and although I have to lash him most days to keep him up to the mark, it’s rare that I have to thrash him very hard. My last slave was so lazy that I had to whip him almost the entire journey, and it wasn’t relaxing for me. I really don’t want to lose him because he’s so good to look at, though – they don’t come like this very often. Long limbs, a good chest, blond, well hung, a great ass. Whenever I get bored, I only have to watch those thighs pounding away and that ass working hard, and I get an instant erection.”

His friend said “Now that the Sheikh has said that he doesn’t want this slave’s ass, are you going to fuck him? And if you’re not, can I? Or shall we both do it, instead of getting a couple of those field slaves in? Three in a bed can be just as much fun as four, and he’s so different from those muscle hunks we had last night that I think it would be really exciting”.

The Overseer obviously thought for a few moments, and then I heard him say “Well I’m not going to fuck him myself. He excites me, and I think it would be good to be first up that tight virgin ass. And I always have quite a liking for the all-American college jock type. But as a matter of general policy I don’t fuck the slaves that I use for services every day. You’ll notice I never touch my bath slave sexually, as I like him just to be a ‘piece of the furniture’ in my bathroom. And if I use my pony, he’ll cease to be just an animal to drive me around and I will start to see him as something else. Before you know where you are, I’d be having feelings for him, and thinking about his comfort rather than my own. When he’s tired, I might slacken the pace a little, even though that might make me a couple of minutes late home. That wouldn’t be right, as the only reason for having slaves is that you can completely disregard their needs in favour of your own. I don’t want to start off down the slippery slope of giving a slave even a moment’s consideration.”

“But go ahead yourself, if you want. You’ll be going home in a few days, so it doesn’t matter if you start to develop some kind of relationship with the pony. I can arrange for him to be bought to the Bungalow tonight after he’s been cleaned up and showered, securely manacled so that you can do whatever you want with him. I can even have his tongue restraint taken out for the evening, if you want to hear him scream as he experiences his first rape. I’ll go to the Club and use one of the regular ‘comfort’ slaves, and I’ll bunk down there so that I don’t have to see you in bed with my pony.”

His friend started to say that he didn’t want to do this if it was not absolutely OK with the Overseer, and he was told that “Honestly, it’s absolutely no problem with me. You’re on holiday, you’re the guest, and you should do everything you can to make it a memorable time. I can fuck a whole variety of manflesh any time of the day and night that the fancy takes me, but once you’re back home you’ll have to do the usual trawling around bars to try to pick up something for the night. And I remember from when I used to be in the City, that can be pretty depressing – you never ever find anyone who’s completely ‘sub’, and even those who say they are want to impose ‘conditions’ on a master. And as for their condition – when did you have a really good well muscled body under you before you came here? So make the most of it whilst it lasts!”

“Tell me, did you ever actually rape a virgin before?”, he continued. “I guess that has to be the ultimate experience, knowing you’ve gone where a cock has never been before, and having a completely unwilling male totally subservient to your needs. You can’t get that experience in the City, and you can’t buy it anywhere in the USA as far as I know. I’m offering you a once in a lifetime experience with my pony tonight – feel free to enjoy it!”.

The sweat that was breaking out all over by back and chest was not just from the running – hearing these plans for me was absolutely horrific, as I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be raped. Having the Sheikh’s finger right up my rectum had been bad enough, but the thought of the friend’s cock terrified me – at the swimming session at the water hole I had seen that he was well endowed, with a medium-length thickish penis. I had seen the size it grew to when he and the Overseer had masturbated and then fucked each other, and my ass muscles clenched and unclenched involuntarily as I tried to imagine what it would be like to have that warm rod thrust deep inside me. But my real terror was the humiliation thing – all my life I had jeered at ‘queers’ and I had spent my time as a school and college jock trying to push my prick into as many of the ladies as I could.

I had never understood what a guy saw in another, and I couldn’t understand why anyone should think a man’s hands, a man’s mouth, or a man’s ass was in any way desirable when you could have “the real thing”. I had been jerked off by many girls when I had started having sex, and of course we soon graduated to them giving me blow jobs. I had even tried giving it to one of my girlfriends up the ass for a change, after a weekend of heavy vaginal sex, but even though she squealed with pleasure it wasn’t as much fun for me as her tight pussy, so I hadn’t bothered to do it again.

Of course I had got used to being jerked off by the stable-lad slaves every day, but I didn’t really regard that as “sex” – it was really just a welcome relief, and part of normal life now. Hearing the possibility of my ass being abused for the first time was somehow shaming, and I detested the thought – but, deep down, I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Even if I was not securely bound tonight, as I knew I would be, there was ultimately no way of avoiding my master’s wishes. I was a slave now, and there was to be absolutely no regard for my feelings, rights or concerns about this. If my master or his friend wanted to pump their semen up my ass, they would.

The Overseer spoke again, and said “But maybe you’d better hold fire on your plans for tonight with the pony, as we’re heading for the Stud now. He’ll be pretty spent after his afternoon there, and whilst that won’t stop you fucking him, if you want to play with his cock and balls and tease a lot of cum out of him, he might be a bit ‘spent’. And anyway, I find holding a man’s cock when it’s been inside a woman a few hours before is distasteful – I like to let the fresh air get at it, and let it have a few sessions being jerked off by the bath slaves before I feel completely happy with it again. And that’s especially true if I’m going to suck it – I know it’s silly, but I always think I can taste a woman on the cock, even though objectively I know it has been scrubbed clean.”

I couldn’t really understand what the Overseer meant by all this talk of cocks inside women, as since I arrived I had never actually seen a woman – every slave on the estate was male. But I was relieved to hear his friend say “OK, I think you’re right. Tell me more about these ‘comfort’ slaves at the Club – are those the slaves always in the gymnasium there, and in the Pool?”

“Yes “, said the Overseer. “We select the best-looking, most handsome slaves as they come into maturity and are brought onto the farm, and assign them to the Club. They have to exercise constantly in the gym, but not so that they overdevelop muscles like some of the working slaves do – we want nicely firmed, handsome guys, with great bodies. In fact, part of the reason for keeping them mostly in the gym and around the pool is because it’s a real pleasure for the eyes when you’re working out yourself or going for a swim – they don’t need to be in there all the time, but it makes a good, convenient ‘meat market’ at one central location. And, as I said, there’s a general feeling that you shouldn’t have sex with ‘domestic’ slaves who clean the place or who service you in the bath, and so on. These slaves are not in the ‘domestic pool’, they’re just there for sex, and only for sex.”

“Of course there are no wild slaves in the ‘comfort’ pool, they’re all farm bred so they only know about servitude and sex with men. They regard it as the height of luxury to be allowed to train and swim all day, shower whenever they want, oil their bodies, play with each other, and generally lead what is to them the ‘high life’. After about three years, though, we usually tire of seeing the same flesh week after week, so we put them out into the field gangs and choose new ones from the farm. We always try to get a good mix of blacks and whites, tall and short, stocky and thin, so whatever your preferences, there should be one or more there that will turn you on. Look them over, pick one out, and tell him to come to the Bungalow this evening. Pick one out for me, too – I’d like to know what you kind of body you imagine I secretly desire! They’re all fully experienced in every way of having sex you can think of, and then some, and you’re guaranteed a great time – they know that if they don’t please you, you can order them to be flogged, and that’s a great incentive to them to make sure you get every ounce of pleasure from their bodies.”

“But don’t limit yourself to one or even two – if you like, why don’t we have an orgy tonight? Pick out five or ten, and we’ll fuck them all, or we could lie there together, just you and me, whilst we instruct the slaves to enact our wildest fantasies!”.

“No “, the friend replied, “I came here to see you, and we’ve been having great sex. It’s just like the old times – no, it’s actually better than the old times. We’ve little enough time together as it is, and I don’t want to waste it on a lot of other bodies – yours is enough for me, it’s everything I want. I think I was just indulging a fantasy when I thought about raping your pony slave, but that’s not what I really want, when I can cuddle up to you tonight. Just the two of us. I know it’s fun to fuck the slaves, and those two from the fields last night were something else – but I want something more, that only you give: you love me, you don’t just fuck me.”

When I heard this, I started to relax, and suddenly the day seemed a whole lot better. I was not going to have to lie under the vast old Sheikh, and , at least for the time being, my ass remained my own.

A swift tug on the reins turned my head slightly to the right, and I turned off down a track we had now been down before in my months of pulling the Overseer around. We continued, and soon came to a large compound, surrounded by two high fences of wire mesh, topped with razor wire. A shorter wooden fence inside the two outer high fences hid the contents of the compound from view completely.

We drew up at a gate in the outer fence, which swiftly opened for us as they saw it was the Overseer. We went through the second fence, and then the gate in the wooden fence opened and I ran on into the compound.

The sight was incredible! There were scores of children running around playing, and women walking along, and they all obviously lived in a row of huts inside the fence. Each hut had a neat garden around it, growing fruit and vegetables, and they were mostly being tended as we ran past by the women and older children. I hadn’t seen a woman literally for months, and these, or course, were all totally naked, as was I.

Although I was completely used to being naked by now, I had felt something akin to shame when I had gone into the Sheikh’s western-style room that morning, and now I began to feel the same kind of emotion. It’s one thing to live your life as a naked pony slave when all you see is other ponies, field slaves, guards, and the occasional master; it’s another to be running along, with your cock bobbing up and down, naked in front of a lot of naked women!

The women were obviously interested in what they saw, because they stopped what they were doing as we went past and waved and called out to us – here again was something different – these women were presumably slaves as they were naked, but they had voices! I felt a blush start to rise in my cheeks, and as usual, my cock took off on its own and I felt a massive erection rise.


The Overseer guided me along through the huts, until we came into a small square. On one side there was a canopy to provide shade, under which was a large throne-like chair similar to that I had seen earlier for the Sheikh, and several others. A table held refreshments, and there were pitchers of juices and water with ice cubes clinking in them – that was the first time I had even thought about ice for I could not remember how long, as all the water I was ever given came out of the wall nipples in the Stables, or from the drinking bottles with which I was sometimes refreshed as I ran. In front of the canopy, but in the sun, was a low table, and on two of its legs were foot rests about 8 cm below the table top.

Standing by the side of the canopy, but in the sun, was one of the enormously tall, lithe, muscular Nubians that I knew worked in the quarry, and Hans and Mike in their chain “waistcoats”. We stopped, and the Overseer unshackled me and motioned for me to go over and join the other slaves. Like me, Hans and Mike were experiencing erections having to stand there naked with a small crowd of women gathering around, but the big Nubian seemed unaffected (although his cock was on the same massive scale as the rest of his body, and it was bigger than some guys’ cocks are even when fully erect).

All four of us stood there, whilst the Overseer went into a hut and emerged with four collars. He ordered us to “display”, and we all four obediently put our hands behind our necks. The collars had cuffs attached to the back of them, and the Overseer came along collaring each of us and securing our wrists into the cuffs. I couldn’t understand why he did this, as I would have stood there at “display” with my hands behind my neck without the need for any artificial restraint, so used had I become to obeying orders.

We all stood there in the sun, and the Overseer and his friend went and sat on the chairs under the shady canopy. They started to talk, and the Overseer was explaining things to his friend.

“We’re in the Stud now, and waiting for the Sheikh to come and start proceedings. Look at those four slaves who are going to cover the breeders this afternoon – the Europeans are the ones we bought in, and they know about women – in spite of themselves, they’re erect! But the big buck Nubian is bred here, and he only knows about men. He’s standing there perfectly normally, as he’s obviously not excited by the Europeans, and he doesn’t see anything in the women’s bodies to turn him on – when you think about it, if you’re used to hard men’s bodies all the time, the women look pretty disgusting with those layers of subcutaneous fat smoothing them out and those repulsive breasts jutting out in front.”

“The pony and the two cart-horse slaves are here because we want to introduce their strains into the herd, and a degree of ‘wildness’ We have picked the Nubian because he’s the biggest, blackest, hardest-worker of them all, and we want to try to capture that.”

“This breeding business is a big problem for us. We have to do it to ensure a satisfactory supply of slaves as the market price in the auctions is getting higher and higher as more estates turn over to slave labour. With his usual thoroughness, the Sheikh insists that the breeding is properly planned and controlled. He has a master plan for improving the herd, and it’s really important that we use the right sires to cover the right mares. On some estates the slaves are left to their own devices, and the breeding takes place randomly, just as it does back home, and there’s chaos! Not only is there no control over what slaves are produced, but there are all sorts of jealousies and tensions between the male slaves and the breeders, and between male slaves competing for breeders, and so on, just as you get in US society. It really lowers efficiency.”

“But as I have explained, we keep only a very few breeders on this estate compared to the number of workers, because we don’t want a lot of potentially unproductive mouths to feed. So it’s very important that we make the most of the available opportunities to get the best possible genetic mix in the herd. And, of course, we need to know which sires the breeders have got pregnant by so that we can track the offspring – we don’t want unfortunate inbreeding in the next generations, not because of any moral problem as it’s only slaves, but because breeding a brother and a sister, or a father and daughter, can produce disastrous genetically-caused problems in their offspring.”

“The long gestation period of the slaves is the biggest problem, though. It takes us a long time to ensure that the stock we have selected for breeding is right. Even thought those four there look good, it’s only when you have had time to see their progeny that you can be sure you have selected a good line. So we have to play a waiting game”

“First, there’s the problem of ensuring the breeders are impregnated properly. We have selected the breeders for these four so that they are in their fertile period in the month. And of course we know from their regular semen tests that all these four males have masses of live sperm, even though they’re past their best ages for breeding – the slave male is at his most fertile around 16. We don’t breed from them that early as we need to make sure the slaves are properly developed, so 24 to 30 is about the age range we can use, once we have seen how they work. They’re past their peak of fertility, but there’s still a very high chance of them impregnating successfully”.

“Even so, they’ll cover the breeders three times this afternoon, and we’ll repeat the whole thing tomorrow, and the day after. Then we have to wait at least a month to see if the breeders have been properly impregnated. And then we have to wait another month to determine whether they’re carrying a male. If they’re not, the breeder has to be aborted and we need to start the whole cycle over again – the first progeny of a slave is always another male slave, and we only occasionally breed another breeder when we want to capture a particularly important slave characteristic. And we normally won’t do that until a slave’s progeny have been fully certified over a number of years.”

“Assuming all has gone well so far, it’s still another seven or eight months before we can actually see the progeny, and we then usually wait another three or four months whilst it develops to see that it has indeed got all the signs of the characteristics we’re looking for.”

“If that first one seems as if it’s going to be OK, then we start again, with the slave covering a different breeder, and with any luck in about a year after that we can again decide whether to continue. And the same in years three and four.”

“After four years, we have four progeny to observe and test, and the first is of course quite developed so we can be reasonably certain that we have it right. If all is still well, and the slave’s characteristics are coming through into his progeny from four different breeders, then in years five, six, seven and eight he covers many breeders. From a particularly fine slave we usually take about 25 progeny, to strengthen the characteristic that we are breeding for in the herd. Of course we keep observing and testing all the progeny all the time, and if it looks as if a problem is developing, we stop using the slave in the programme. It’s exactly like what farmers do back home, to improve a herd of dairy cows, or the wool from a flock of sheep.”

Just then there was the sound of carriage wheels approaching – it was the farm carriage, with its four matched black pony slaves pulling it, and in it were the Sheikh, his two nephews, and the veterinarian. This was obviously a huge load for them, as the Sheikh himself was a giant of a man, and his nephews, too, were big guys, and the ponies were clearly straining to make a reasonably fast progress. But as they got closer I could see over the heads of the crowd that the most astonishing thing was that they were all wearing leather hoods over the tops of their heads, which completely obscured their eyes. As they got closer still, I saw that the hoods also covered their ears. They were having to run “blind”, relying entirely on the directional commands given by one of the Sheikh’s nephews, but he was obviously an experienced and confident carriage driver as he showed no signs of difficulty in manipulating the four sets of reins simultaneously.

The carriage pulled up into the empty square space in front of the canopy, and the royal party alighted and took chairs – the Sheikh, of course, taking the large throne in the centre. The Overseer had risen as the Sheikh approached, and then performed his obeisance as he had earlier in the day – again, I felt this demeaned an American. He went to the front of the carriage, grasped the metal rods of the two leading pony slaves that were protruding out of their mouths, and led them away. I wondered why he was not guiding them by their cocks as usual, until suddenly I could actually see all of their bodies as they came around the crowd.

It was shocking! These four proud ponies, who were always gleaming shiny-smooth in the sunlight because they were completely hairless and oiled, now had their cocks confined. Each of them was wearing a cup-shaped triangular metal device which completely covered their cocks and balls. These were held on by a stainless steel wire around the waist, with another passing from the bottom of the cup and up between the slave’s ass cheeks to join on to the wire around the waist just above the top of the ass. There was a padlock at this point, holding all three wires securely in place.

I had never seen these ponies anything but completely nude, and they were so well hung, and so perfectly matched each other, that it was almost like looking at a great work of art to see them. They were now somehow “disfigured”, with this scrap of metal covering their genitalia. They had been turned from proud slaves into something that resembled one of those sex pictures in American magazines. Being partially covered is often more erotic than total nudity, I knew, and I thought it was wrong that they should be forced to disport themselves in this way. But I saw that even though they were temporarily blinded (and I supposed deaf) from the hoods, there had been some consideration given to their animal needs. The metal cups were perforated with a few small holes, and so it was possible for them to piss whenever they needed to. On reflection, this seemed to be another example of how the Sheikh’s organisation really did think through the needs of its slaves.

The Sheikh spoke to the Overseer, and he rapped out commands in Arabic. A small white woman, aged about 22 I guess, came out of the crowd and lay down on her back on the low table, putting her feet onto the foot rests so that her pudenda were fully exposed. The big Nubian was motioned forward, and stood between the woman’s legs. He clearly didn’t know what to do, and so the veterinarian came over and worked the Nubian’s cock into a massive erection. He then pushed the Nubian in towards the woman.

There was laughter from the Sheikh and his nephews then because the Nubian had tried to push his cock up the woman’s ass. I heard the Overseer tell his friend that this was fairly common – the farm-bred slaves only knew about sex with other men, and then only very infrequently as it was forbidden to them. So the Nubian had naturally assumed that he was meant to be doing the only thing he knew.

However the veterinarian soon corrected things, and guided the Nubian’s cock into the woman’s cunt. Then he went behind the Nubian and, resting his hands around the giant’s waist, pushed him backwards and forwards. The slave obviously got the idea, because he was soon fucking properly, and came after only a few seconds. He was then motioned away, off the woman, and sent back to join us other three slaves. The Overseer commented that the veterinarian was earning his money today – he was doing a proper job, just as a veterinarian would who was in attendance at a racing stud would when the pedigree stallions did not know what to do!

The Nubian stood next to us, breathing hard, with his cock rapidly returning to normal but still slick with the woman’s juices.

It was then the turn of Hans, who was led up to service a breeder who I guessed was an Arab of some kind, judging from her colouring. Hans obviously knew what it was all about, and he needed no encouragement to ram his stiff rod home and fuck away enthusiastically. His hard ass went in and out, and he was emitting satisfied grunts from his throat in time to the flexing of his massive thighs. But he, too, climaxed quickly, and came back to join the rest of us.

Mike was next ,”covering” – as I now knew it was called – another Arab. And then I knew it would be my turn.

A slim, tall black girl, about 19 years old, was lying on the table as I was called forward. I was in turmoil – although I’d had a lot of women in my time, I’d never fucked in public. Even when we were at those wild parties when a lot of couples were getting it off, I had always taken my woman off to a private room. It’s not that I have anything to be ashamed of – I have always had a nice body and am very well hung – indeed, that’s one of the reasons why the Sheikh’s nephews bought me at the auction. But fucking in public was not just my thing.

But here I was, with the sun beating down on me, a crowd of naked women watching, and the fully-dressed party under the canopy waiting expectantly for me to begin. I didn’t think I could do it, but reflex took over. My cock went so hard it was actually painful for a moment, and once it was inside the woman I forgot all my inhibitions and rammed in and out enthusiastically.

There was to be no real pleasure for me; this was pure sex for breeding. And I soon joined the Nubian and Hans and Mike again. The Sheikh and his party sat around whilst drinks were brought to them, and the Overseer and his friend came over to us. He commanded us to hunker down, and the four of us squatted there with our hands behind our necks and our cocks still moist from our activities.

“They rest for about 45 minutes”, said the Overseer, “then they do it again. Young slaves like this can easily recover in that time, and the Sheikh does not want to waste his entire afternoon.”

“Why don’t they use AI?”, his friend enquired.

“Well Artificial Insemination is never used in the racehorse world”, said the Overseer. “The Sheikh has a world famous string of race horses in training in England, and stud fees are a very important part of the racing business. The rules of the international horse racing fraternity specifically forbid the use of frozen semen and AI, and always require a stallion to be taken to cover a mare. I guess we follow the same practice because the Sheikh knows it works well for race horses, and therefore thinks that it will be good for slaves. In fact it’s probably just as well we do it this way, otherwise we’d need much more complex medical facilities and so on.”

“Besides, even though you and I don’t want to watch the disgusting spectacle of a man fucking a woman, some of the Sheikh’s guests get quite turned on by it. There was a party of US senators here about six months ago, at the time of the last oil talks, and naturally the Sheikh offered to show them his prize stallions in action. The senators could not believe it – they told the Sheikh it was the best entertainment they had ever been offered anywhere in the world. One of them said that the last time he had been at a live sex show it had cost him over $250 to get into a sleazy club in Amsterdam and have a couple of drinks. Even then, he thought the performers were faking it, whereas it was clear it was for real here”.

They carried on chatting, and the Overseer continued “There’s only one thing that I think is a bit unnecessarily cruel in all of this – I don’t like to see the slaves with their wrists shackled like that. I’d allow them to continue to ‘display’ naturally. But about a year ago there was a problem when in a sexual frenzy one of the slaves started to caress the breasts of the breeder whilst he was covering her”.

“He had to be pulled off, of course, and it upset the whole afternoon. It’s not a problem for the farm-bred slaves, but the Sheikh has decided that we won’t risk it, especially when we have a number of wild slaves who might be habituated to sex with women before they came here. They might think that it’s acceptable to do all kinds of disgusting things whilst fucking, whereas all they are required to do is shoot their semen high up into the vagina. Some of the American and Europeans simply can’t understand that this covering of the breeders is a simple necessity if our way of life is to continue, and they think sex with a woman is in some way ‘special’. I guess we still have not convinced all our slaves that they are animals. Animals breed, humans have sex.”

At that point, the Sheikh clapped his hands as he was evidently tired of waiting, and the afternoon’s performance began again, as the Nubian was led out to cover the small white woman for the second time.

When it was my turn again, I tried to think about what the Overseer had said. It did seem faintly disgusting, to be here over a soft, black body. It just wasn’t the same as when fucking women had been surrounded by society’s expectations. It had seemed ‘natural’ then, and fun. And when I was still a teenager, it had been spiced with that whiff of illegality, with the risk of being caught by my parents or hers! Now I saw it for what it was – just a mechanical act to get my sperm to the right place for breeding.

This made me feel much better. Freed of the mystique with which sex with women had been surrounded, and all the taboos of privacy and intimacy that I now saw were completely false, I could just stand there and do it. The Sheikh wanted to breed from me, and that made me feel proud. Why shouldn’t he and his party watch me – it was perfectly natural for a slave to inseminate a breeder if that is what his master wanted. A slave has no rights or privacy, and pumping my semen into a woman was not different from pumping it over one of the stable-lad slaves, and I did that every night without thinking now.

The four of us hunkered down in the sun again, and waited for our third performance, which went off without incidence.

After the Sheikh had left in his carriage, the Overseer shackled me to the rickshaw and he and his friend mounted for the drive home. As we went through the huts towards the entrance, the Overseer was saying “See how the young slaves enjoy life. We let the mothers bring them up, as we’ve found that without a proper childhood, the slaves don’t last well in later life. It’s a false economy to go in for child labour – although you can get them working from the age of six or seven, they’re burned out by the time they’re thirty. They stay here, with the mothers, until the first sign of sexual maturity – that’s usually about the age of 13. Then we take them off and they live in a segregated part of this compound, getting their first phase of training – light gym, running, and other good healthy exercise to get their bodies tuned to the idea of physical effort.”

“That’s the first time we have to spend any money on education and training. Up until then, the breeders have totally looked after the young slaves. From maturity, though, they have to be schooled to make sure they do all the exercises and so on we need, so two or three slaves have to be used full time for this. We usually choose real ‘physical’ types for this work – the sort that in the USA might end up as coaches at high schools. I think they have a great life – they do of course inevitably ‘educate’ the slaves into sex as well. They don’t need to be intellectual, as of course we don’t teach the slaves to read or write, or anything like that.”

“On their sixteenth birthdays, the slaves are considered to be ready for work proper, and they come out on to the estate. Any that have not matured and still don’t have a proper growth of hair, deep voices, and constant erections are traded out – the Sheikh is merciful here, and doesn’t have them put down. He doesn’t want them spoiling the general tone of the estate, but he can get a modest price for them at the auction. I suppose people buy them to turn them into proper eunuchs, or in the hope that they will suddenly mature, and they can then make a profit”.

“During the next two years, we give them light-ish jobs – stable-lads, bath slaves, kitchen hands, and so. We mute them at this point of course, as we don’t want their chatter spoiling life for the rest of us. And we trim their pubic hair, and shave the body hair of any who are very objectionably hairy and who are going to do sensitive work – we don’t want a slave’s chest hairs falling in to the food being prepared for us in the kitchens, for example.”

“We watch them carefully during this time, and on their eighteenth birthday we can make a decision as to what is to be their future life. The very handsome ones, who have been seen to be playing around a lot sexually with each other, might be assigned to be ‘comfort’ slaves. There are a few obvious choices for ‘sprinters’ for the messenger service, who need to be starved a bit and trained hard. Some with outstanding bodies will go for specialised service, such as a general pony like mine, or into a cart team. And the Sheikh will sell some – for example, if he has a very fine black, but his carriage team does not need a replacement, he might send the slave off for auction. But the majority simply then join one of the field gangs, or go into the quarries.”

“We only occasionally have a breeder growing up here, and it’s a potential problem for us. As I said, it’s only generally when there’s some very special characteristic of the breeder and sire that we want to retain in the herd, as generally it’s simpler to buy mature breeders in from the auction. However carefully we watch the young slaves, some will mature precociously early and then try to experiment with a young breeder – we simply can’t have that uncontrolled sort of breeding going on, as the Sheikh likes everything done properly and the stud books maintained accurately. Young breeders have to be kept strictly segregated therefore from the young slaves, and it all adds to the costs of running the place efficiently.”

His friend then interjected and asked “Why was the Sheikh’s team blindfolded?”

“If only they were simple blindfolds”, replied the Overseer “They’re custom-made helmets of finest Moroccan black leather, to make them look as much like skin as possible. As well as covering the eyes totally, they also have special ear flaps with sound insulation, to cut out noise. They cost a fortune to have specially made – another expense!”

“We had a problem a few years ago when a pony team of previously ‘wild’ ponies went almost into a frenzy when they saw the breeders being covered by the chosen slaves that afternoon. The Sheikh was furious, and said it should never happen again. So the pony teams have their eyes and ears covered so they can’t see or hear what’s going on. And, just in case any of the breeders try to interfere with the ponies whilst they’re waiting for the Sheikh – some of them seem to want to try to thrust themselves onto a slave’s cock – he has decreed that they should be protected by wearing those genital covers.”

“It’s all very annoying. You saw how I had to lead the carriage away after the Sheikh arrived – you get used to leading a pony by its cock, and having to grab the bridle like that is not convenient. What’s worse is that I have to do it myself – the Sheikh will not allow any slaves at all into the breeding compound normally, so I have to do these things that are properly the work of slaves. Still, it’s only when the Sheikh’s actually here that I usually attend: frankly, the sight of those breeders and the things the slaves have to do to them disgusts me – most of the time the veterinarian runs the breeding programme, as he’s often over there anyway, checking up on the breeders and the young slaves.”

We were then at the gate, and went out, back onto the estate proper. The Overseer slapped the reins and told me to head for home, and I jogged along because he did not seem to be in a particular hurry, whilst he and his friend resumed their conversation from earlier about the ‘comfort’ slaves, and how they might spend their evening.

I was told to drop the friend off at the Club, and the Overseer drove me around to the stables himself. He needed to give the guards orders that the stable-lads were not to milk me again that night, as he wanted to conserve my semen for the second day’s breeding.

To be continued …

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