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The Making Of A Ponyslave (11)


In spite of not being milked, that night was not to be a repeat of the previous one. Covering a breeder three times during the afternoon had properly de-spunked me, and even though I was not as tired as I normally was after a normal day’s work, I had a long, exhausting sleep.

The next morning I was unclamped as usual, and joined the other ponies in the morning rituals. Then I was manacled into the rickshaw, and led by my cock around to the Overseer’s bungalow, to be tethered outside his door to wait for him.

I could hear voices through the open window, and see several naked bodies outlined in the curtains and in the bathroom. When the Overseer and his friend emerged, earlier than usual, they were accompanied by two of the most handsome men I have ever seen. They would be about 22 I think, just over 6′ tall, and very nicely muscled, but not overly so. They had the usual all-over tan, and were neatly trimmed and shaved, although one had been allowed to keep a gentle thatch of straight black hair on his chest and belly. The other was a natural redhead, and I knew that it must have been a real effort for him to tan.

All four came down the steps, and the Overseer and his friend slapped the two slaves on the backsides in a cheery gesture of parting. The slaves put their arms around each others shoulders, and set off with all that confidence that only young guys who are supremely proud of their bodies have, back towards the Club. Their lovely 10 cm cocks bounced up and down as they strode out. They had obviously enjoyed their night, and didn’t have a care in the world.

The Overseer and his friend were in a good mood, and they chatted happily together as I was commanded to run at a medium pace out into the estate. The friend was talking to the Overseer about the night, and said “So was I right? Didn’t that exotic redhead really turn you on? You told me to pick something for you that I thought you would like, and I’ve always had the thought that you went for something a bit unusual”.

“Aw, come on”, replied the Overseer, “You were up him a great deal more than I was. I thought you had secretly chosen the red head because you’ve never had a bit of ginger before, but wanted to pretend it was for me. The conventionally handsome stud was OK, though, although there are so many of that type here I am a bit bored with them. If that was the one you really chose for yourself, I suppose it’s because you were fulfilling a fantasy – you could fuck a real ‘Playgirl Centrefold’ type to your heart’s content, and have him respond so eagerly. There’s no way you’ll get that back in the USA, and you’ll have to wait for your next visit here to have that much delicious, toned manflesh in your power again.”

“It did make a change, though, from the night before. I usually prefer to have unwilling partners like those from the quarry, as it’s so much more energetic as they buck around trying to avoid the inevitable. But the need for handcuffs to keep them under some sort of restraint is a bit of a damper. It was really nice to have those slaves last night put their arms around us – you don’t get that with handcuffs. I suppose I mean you don’t get that unless your partner is willing – and those ‘comfort’ slaves have been trained for it. When you’ve gone home, I think I might visit there more often – perhaps it’s not always as boring as I thought.”

“Well,” said the friend, “They certainly seemed happy enough this morning. Not a care in the world. It must be good to have no worries or responsibilities like that. All they have to do today is exercise and amuse themselves, whilst you, my friend, have all the cares of the Sheik’s estate. Sometimes I wonder who has the best deal – those happy slaves, with great sex all the time, or us who have to work and worry.”

“It won’t last “, said the Overseer. “You know I told you we only kept ‘comfort’ slaves for a few years – well, those two are almost past their sell-by dates. They’re 22 years old, and so have been in the Club longer than usual, and most of their regular users are saying its time they went and we brought some fresh, excitingly new blood in. So next week a couple of 18 year olds that I have been watching will be reassigned as ‘comfort’ slaves, and those two are both going in to the quarry. Then they’ll see the difference between well-proportioned gym-trained muscles, and the real power ones you get from day-long hard toil. They’ll certainly know what it is to work, and they’ll worry constantly about the lash.”

I realised that the Overseer was guiding me towards the breeders compound, and, sure enough, we shortly arrived there. The Nubian, and Hans and Mike, were already waiting, and we spent the next two hours again covering three times the breeders that we had first serviced the previous day. The Sheik and his entourage did not appear for this session, and the Overseer told his friend that it was usually only the first time that a ‘buck’ went to stud that he bothered.

Mike and Hans obviously hugely enjoyed their sex, especially as without the Sheik there the Overseer seemed willing to let them spend longer over it than straight ‘breeding’ demanded. He wasn’t insistent that they started thrusting hard immediately, and let them start slowly. And after they had shot their load, they were allowed to remain for a few moments inside the women whilst their breathing slackened and their cocks returned to normal. The Nubian had clearly learned the lesson from the day before and now knew what was expected, although it seemed to me that he thought nothing at all of it.

And me – what about me? I didn’t know what to think, and I was confused. In the USA, I’d been a real ‘stud’, fucking ever woman in sight at every opportunity that presented itself. Now I really was a ‘stud’ – in the other sense. I got absolutely no pleasure from my three bouts with the breeder, other than the usual wonderful scrotum-tightening sensation that you get whenever you shoot your load. I might as well have been masturbating – the sensation would have been the same. Certainly there was no ‘desire’, and I even felt slightly repulsed by the breeder lying supine under me. If I hadn’t been made to do it, I certainly would not have voluntarily chosen to fuck this woman – or was that now any woman?

The best bit of the morning for me was the comradeship I felt with Hans, Mike, and the Nubian (whose name I did not know, although I could see his number, 15866, tattooed on his arm). We obviously could not speak, but as we squatted down together in the hot sand, our hands manacled behind our heads, sweat running down our chests and forming a little rivulet down onto our cocks still wet with the woman juices, it seemed as if we had some special mutual attraction for each other. I though I knew how it must feel for soldiers in combat to have carried out difficult orders in a battle, and then afterwards relaxed with their buddies. You didn’t need to speak about it or discuss it, the shared experience bonded you automatically. I felt as if we were truly brothers.

But our brief moment of happiness was soon over, and after the third session I was manacled to the rickshaw again and the rest of the day was spent in its usual grueling round of running from place to place whilst the Overseer carried out his other duties.

On the third day on which we were all taken for the last bout of sex in the current ’round’, I was really looking forward to seeing Hans, Mike and 15866 again. As we waited for the women to be brought out, that special feeling of ‘togetherness’ started immediately.

After the first session, I felt that Hans and Mike hadn’t enjoyed the sex as much as they had on the previous day, and in spite of the Overseer’s generosity in not making them withdraw as soon as they had shot, both of them did. I think they wanted to get back to the other three of us, crouching there watching.

When we had finally completed the morning’s activities and had

all ‘covered’ three times, the Overseer had some business to discuss with the veterinarian who had been watching that morning, too. We were left crouching together for about ten minutes – the massive Nubian, hard-muscled Hans and Mike, and me, all sweating and still panting slightly. They all obviously felt the same way as I did about the comradeship that had sprung up between us, because we all shuffled closer to each other and we managed to get our arms (which were of course running parallel to our shoulders because of our wrists manacled behind our heads) overlapping each other. That meant that we could get our thighs and rib cages touching each other, and I believe that this is the first time in my life that I have ever had a genuine feeling of excitement – sexual excitement – from another man’s body.

I don’t know whether it was because we were nude, whether it was because we were manacled and muted, or whether it was the common shared experience of being used publicly as ‘studs’, but as the sweat running down my ribs mingled with that of Hans and Mike who were on either side of me, I felt sexually aroused. Even though it was only moments since I had climaxed in the breeder, I had an erection. Looking down at Hans and Mike and across to 15866 on the other side of Hans, I saw that they too were all becoming aroused.

We stayed crouching there, our erections proudly jutting out and up from between our thighs, enjoying the moment. If only we could have spoken, I wonder what words we would have used? But then, if I hadn’t been a slave, I wouldn’t have been in that position and would not have started to experience my true feelings for other men.

Eventually the Overseer was finished, and came over to retrieve me for the rickshaw. He burst out laughing when he saw us and called out to his friend “Come over here and see this. These slaves really are stallions. It’s only minutes since they finished fucking, and already they’re hard again. Perhaps they’re hoping we’ll let them go for another round”.

If only he knew, I thought. There was nothing I wanted less than another thrust up the woman’s cunt. All I wanted was to be left alone to enjoy the unspoken comradeship of my fellows, and the warmth of their bodies pressed close to mine. But it was not to be, and we were soon running, hard, as the Overseer made up for lost time and needed to complete his rounds.

When we got back to the stables that night the Overseer chuckled and said to his friend “Well, it’s back to normal for this pony now until we see how his sperm have performed. After that massive erection this morning after it was all over, he’s been up and down all day. He’s obviously excited about something, and I shall need to tell the stable lads to make sure he is specially relieved in the shower this evening. We know how he almost sprayed the Sheik with his spunk at almost no provocation, and I don’t want that happening to me tomorrow! After all, it’s your last day, and I have laid on a surprise for you.”

With that, I was led into the Stables, and I could see the Overseer and his friend walking back towards their bungalow.


The following morning I was expecting to be led over to the Overseer’s bungalow again, and was interested to see what kind of ‘comfort’ slaves they had chosen for the last night of the friend’s visit. But instead, they came over to the Stables, and were carrying towels.

We set off, and I understood from overhearing their conversation that we were off to the water-hole again for a morning’s swimming, and “the surprise”. I dreaded this, as I knew exactly how much effort was needed from me to pull the rickshaw across the several hundred meters of very loose sand before we got there.

When we got to the turning from the estate track, the farm cart with its eight muscular cart-horse slaves chained to it, was waiting there. The Overseer got down, and spoke to the groom accompanying it. He clearly didn’t know the answer to the Overseer’s question, and then I heard the Overseer say, in English, loudly to the slaves, “The two South Africans raise their hands.”

Hans and Mike were on different sides of the central shaft of the cart, and in different rows, but put up their hands. I was surprised that the groom did not know something of the history of his charges, and also perhaps that the Overseer could not identify Hans and Mike for himself. But then, the groom had no interest at all in the personalities of his slaves- why should he? And the Overseer saw so many slaves, and they were anyway chosen to be near-clones, that perhaps he could not tell the differences between them.

The Overseer barked some commands, and the slaves behind Hans and Mike reached up and took the hook out of the ring that formed part of the back of their “harnesses”, so that they were no longer attached to their lengths of chain towing the cart. The Overseer had a further discussion with the groom, who then lashed the remaining six slaves lightly, and they dragged the cart away, down the track. “I’m in a good mood today”, said the Overseer to his friend, “So I’ve told the groom that he doesn’t need to haul full carts with only six slaves. We’re going to have a happy day, and so I’ve told him he only needs to fulfill three quarters of his quota”.

Then, turning to Hans and Mike, he said “Now, you two – I shall use English for the rest of the day, because I have some complex commands for you to carry out, and you have not been taught the Arabic for them. Don’t think that I will be any less merciful if you fail to obey me absolutely just because the words are in English.”

“Get between the shafts, and help my pony drag us over the loose sand. I’m being generous to him, too, at least at first!”.

My pulling position was in the middle of the shafts, and there wasn’t room for both of them either in front of me or behind me. So Mike slipped in the front, and Hans ducked under the shafts and came up in-between me and the rickshaw. It was a tight fit, and I was sandwiched between Mike and Hans. We were all three covered in sweat, and it was almost like a reenactment of the last few minutes of the session in the stud farm the day before – I had intimate, body to body contact, with Hans and Mike. But it was more – whereas the previous day it was only our thighs and ribs that had touched, now my whole chest was pressed into Mike’s muscular back, and Hans was pressed against mine. Although we at first tried to hold our bodies back, as we moved off there was simply no way that I could prevent my cock from rubbing up against Mike’s hard buttocks, and I could feel Hans’s thick cock starting to mould itself between my ass cheeks.

It was a poignant reminder, too, of our first days of slavery, when Hans, Mike and I had been pushed together in the delivery truck bringing us to the Sheik’s estate. Then I had been embarrassed about being nude, sandwiched between Hans and Mike. Now it felt somehow good, and right.

But the sweat didn’t help – we were all slick with it, and in spite of the fact that we were only exerting ourselves gently, even more started to pour out from all three of us. I knew that this was a sexual effect for me, and thought that it was probably the same for the other two.

Now I was really in trouble, because the friction of my cock against Mike’s ass, rubbing and sliding in the sweat that was lodging all over it, and especially in the crack, made me go into a helpless, hard erection. Poor Mike, he could obviously feel it pressing in to him, and there was nothing either of us could do. But I soon experienced the same problem from Hans, and this was even more difficult for me. Hans’s prick was enormous even when not erect, and my ass cheeks were very firm and tight and bunched together. There was no way his erect prick could find a resting place between my cheeks, as mine had somehow managed to do between Mike’s. As he got harder and harder, it was impossible for us to maintain our pace – he tried to move back from me but was prevented from doing so by the rickshaw behind him, and I tried to move forwards away from him, but then only pressed my own cock even harder in to Mike.

We must have looked a comical sight – three big naked guys, desperately trying to run in step with each other, and all trying to get our cocks and asses away from each other when there was no possibility of this happening!

Fortunately, with the power of Hans and Mike, the sand presented absolutely no problem and we arrived at the water hole before the pain from our cocks and asses had got too bad. Although it was a sort of ‘happy’ pain – I don’t know when I had last felt such pleasure from the press of flesh on flesh.

As soon as we stopped, the Overseer unclamped my wrists from the shafts. Fortunately with the stopping of the motion causing us all to rub together, our erections had almost subsided. The Overseer said “All you slaves are welcome to go in to the water. Enjoy yourselves! But I am going to swim in there soon, so do not piss in it – if you want to piss, do so into the sand as usual”. Hans, Mike and I looked at each other, and almost without thinking, and certainly without touching our cocks to direct it anywhere else, simply let our piss stream out where we stood, as we had become used to doing whilst working as ponies.

The water was amazing after the heat of the day, and we all three swam and frolicked in it. Again I felt the glorious sensation of the water sliding over every part of my body, and my cock bobbed up and down as I floated and swam. I thought how lucky we were to be nude, and not have the confines of Speedos as I had had to have in the USA when I went swimming. Hans and Mike had to work hard at their swimming, as the weight of their chain harnesses meant that they could not float naturally.

A shout from the Overseer soon terminated our few minutes of escape from everyday life, however, and we got out of the water. We were ordered to “display” and then hunker down, and we crouched together at the water’s edge.

The Overseer dropped his cutoffs, revealing again the brilliant white where the tiny micro-bikini he wore whilst swimming at the Pool had prevented him from tanning, and he ran with his cock bouncing up and down, over the hot sand, and executed a perfect dive into the water. He swam a few strokes, and then stood up and called to his friend to hurry up. The friend seemed to have come on a lot since our first visit to the water hole, as he no longer stripped shyly. Even though the three of us hunks were watching him, he proudly pulled his T-shirt over his head, then dropped his pants, and pushed down his boxer shorts. He stood there for a moment, naked under the hot sun, and reached down to free his cock from where the sweat had caused it to stick to his sac, tenderly jerking it a little, as if about to masturbate. He reached behind with his other hand, and casually scratched his ass. This casual touching of his genitals and his ass obviously meant he was relaxed – it’s the sort of thing a group of guys in a locker room will do quite unconsciously when they’re with their team mates who they know well.

He laughed to himself, and then let go a stream of piss into the sand – I felt certain that this was the first time he had ever pissed in front of other guys before, as even had he been out with a crowd of mates, he would have turned away before letting go. Was he really overcoming his inhibitions, or had he learned that the three of us watching were slaves, and as such simply did not count at all?

He too then ran off over the sand and joined the Overseer in the water. They swam, held each other in the water, and played splashing games. They were obviously having a great time, two old friends, totally at ease with each other’s bodies.

When they finally tired and stood up, it was very erotic – they were just at the depth where their cocks were almost out of the water, so they were semi-floating in front of each of them. The Overseer cupped his friend’s jaw in his hand, moved his head towards his friends, and as their lips touched they fell into a passionate kiss with their tongues deeply down their throats.

Hans, Mike and I still crouched there, hands behind our heads, and we all saw the beauty of the moment. We were all erect, and I could see a drop of pre-cum starting to appear from my piss slit.

Instinctively we maneuvered our bodies closer to each other, without of course daring to stand up, and I could feel the heat from their skins adding to that from the desert. Both Hans and Mike had been allowed to retain the hair on their legs, and as our thighs brushed against each other as we crouched there, there was a tingle of excitement from that lovely sensation that you get when your body hair is ruffled.

The Overseer and his friend got out, spread their towels on the sand, and lay there drying in the sun. “I’d better be careful”, said the Overseer, “or I’ll go brown in the ass. Then when I’m changing after going to the gym or the Pool, the other guys won’t be able to tell me apart from the slaves without getting close enough to see if I have been branded!”

“Here “, he said, reaching for a tube and looking at his friend, “Let me put this complete sun block on you, as you’re not used to this sun and we’re going to be here for some time.”

He was soon enthusiastically rubbing the cream all over his friend’s back, paying particular attention to the ass, where he was careful to get it far enough into the ass crack where the fierce sun could penetrate. But I noticed that he made no attempt to stick an oiled finger anywhere near the friend’s anus. Then he told his friend to turn over, and repeated the process down the front. The massaging of the cream into the friend’s tits was done slowly, as he could see it caused his friend exquisite pleasure, and he leaned over and they kissed again whilst he was doing this. And of course when he got to the cock and sac, it was impossible to proceed with creaming these without the friend becoming erect, and the Overseer then slowly jerked him off, with exquisite tenderness.

“Now it’s my turn”, said his friend some minutes later. “I don’t want you thought of as a slave – someone might sell you, and I want you here when I make my next trip Let me do something about those white areas of yours.”

“Ah – very convenient. The white parts are those I like the most! “

He started to rub cream into the minuscule white area in the middle of the Overseer’s ass cheeks, and was laughing at his friend.

“How do you stop the fabric riding up into the crack? The white stripe here is so narrow that it can barely be a string up the back of that bikini of yours. I know you’re a strong swimmer and you do it for exercise – surely it’s uncomfortable, if not painful, to have that little strip of fabric constantly slipping off one cheek or another and down into the depths of your lovely ass!”.

The Overseer replied “It’s simple, really. Before I go swimming, I take a plastic food bag and rub it lightly all over with oil. Then I roll it up into a solid tube, about the size of a pencil. I stuff that between my cheeks before I put the bikini on, and then the sharp edge of the fabric can’t get down where it doesn’t belong. Pushing my ass cheeks apart a bit also helps me to swim, I find – because the bag’s oiled, the cheeks slide over each other better than if they were dry and pressed closely together. You know as well as I do that I’m very hairy down there, and after a lot of swimming I was getting very sore before I learned this trick – I’m told most Olympic swimmers shave their ass cracks, as the constant friction of the hair can otherwise lead to inflammation. I don’t want my ass shaved, as again it’s one of the things that sets me apart from the slaves, and, anyway, I know you like me ‘natural'”.

“Yes”, said the friend. “You need a hairy ass because otherwise it would look freakish compared with all that other hair on your back. I love this little tuff especially!”

The Overseer wriggled his ass as whilst the was saying this his friend had caught hold of the little tuft of hair growing in the small of the Overseer’s back, at the top of his ass crack, and was pulling it playfully.

“Now turn over”, said the friend. “I know you have just a few white bits on the front, too, and they are going to get extra special attention”.

The Overseer rolled over, and he must have been lying on an erection because his cock was jutting hard into the air even as he turned.

“You’re making it too easy”, said his friend. “I was going to have to make you hard in order to ensure that the cream was rubbed into every minute fold of your prick. But you’ve beaten me to it”. So saying, he flicked the end of the Overseer’s penis playfully with his fingernail.

Astonishingly, the Overseer detumesced immediately. “It’s an old hospital trick”, said the friend. “One of the first things that student nurses are taught on male wards is that if the men get erections whilst any genital procedures are being carried out, a quick flick of the fingernail on the cock head causes them to go soft almost immediately. Now I’ve got all the fun of making it hard again, as I rub in this cream.”

So saying, he began to rub his hands all over the Overseer’s cock and sac, and, sure enough, the Overseer responded as you would expect.

“Looking at you”, the friend continued, “I can’t see how that bikini of yours works in the front. The tan line is so close to the top of your cock that all this pubic hair must be spreading out from it.

And I know you’re very likely to get an erection the moment that cock of yours goes into water – doesn’t it hurt, if the tight fabric constricts you much? The bikini is obviously so tiny that it has to be a very strong fabric to hold you normally, so with an erection, it must be painfully tight.”

“Not at all”, the Overseer replied. “You know that when you buy Speedos, or any bikini-type trunks like that, they’re of elastic fabric. They stretch quite tight over your ass, and that’s OK. But because of the sensibility of some people to seeing the outline of a guy’s cock, the front always has an extra lining of a stronger elastic fabric, to smooth out the contours. All you have to do is take out that lining, and then the looser elastic of the basic material is very comfortable. You can’t have a complete erection, but you can go semi-hard quite easily, without any discomfort.”

“Of course everything you’ve got is always clearly outlined, and people can see the size of your cock, whether you’re circumcised, whether it hangs over your balls or sticks out on top of them and so on. And as for the pubic hair, who cares? I have my bathroom slave shave my sac anyway: as you know I think it’s cleaner, and it makes it easier to suck them without anyone getting a mouthful of wiry hair. And I’m very hairy down my stomach, so there’s no strong delineation between that and my pubes.”

“But we’re not in the prudish USA here, having to wear voluminous bathing shorts in case anyone should see that a man has in front of him what everyone knows he’s got anyway. I’m really only going clothed into the Pool because there’s so many of those ‘comfort’ slaves in there, totally naked, and I need to be different. Sometimes I have the place cleared of the slaves, then a number of us Overseers and guards can swim as nature intended – after all “, and here he raised his head to look along his body at his genitals which the friend was holding lovingly, “I’ve absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in that area!”.

The two men continued to lie there for about half an hour talking, kissing, and stroking each other, and we three slaves continued to press against each other for physical, and, I now realise, emotional, support.

The Overseer suddenly sat up and said “But time is getting on. That plane won’t wait for you tonight. You haven’t asked what my surprise is yet”.

“OK “, said the friend, “surprise me. But I can’t see how, out here in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing in the rickshaw, you don’t have any pockets or anything in your cut-offs, and the slaves re all totally naked so they can’t be hiding anything”.

“That’s just where you’re wrong”, replied the Overseer. “All of the slaves form part of the surprise, in different ways.”

“I researched the background of the two big South Africans, and learned they were both in that country’s Marine Corps. Everyone knows the South African Marines are one tough bunch, and they are both trained fighters. Whilst they have not of course been allowed to fight since coming here, they are now even stronger, healthier and fitter than when they were in the Corps, and I doubt they have forgotten their basic skills.”

“In the USA you’re always buying those wrestling tapes, where almost attractive guys wrestle each other in bikinis. Sometimes they ‘rip and strip’, I think, and just occasionally you see a couple of guys rolling around the ring naked. My surprise is that you’re going to have your very own erotic wrestling performance, mounted for you right here.”

“We’re going to have the South Africans wrestle each other just for you. And they’re going to do it until one succeeds in fucking the other – that’s how we will judge the winner. It would have been better to have done this months ago when they first arrived, as they were then, I think, virgins. They might have played around a little with mutual masturbation, and with sucking each other off, but as big, brave tough marines, I don’t think they had been up each others asses, or allowed anyone else to do so! It would have been extra erotic for us to have known that they knew that one of them was going to have to lose his virginity to his comrade.”

“But here’s no going back in time. You weren’t around then, and in the meantime they have fully integrated with the other horse slaves in their team – that means they all fuck each other, every night. So fighting until one of them fucks the other will have lost the edge slightly, as this is now ‘business as usual’ for them.”

“I had thought to tell them that I would have the loser castrated, as then they would have had a real incentive to fight hard. But as they have now entered the breeding programme, that option’s not open to me. So I’m going to have to be a bit more conventional, and offer the winner a prize.”

Mike and Hans were listening to all of this, and I could tell that what the Overseer said was true – they knew they were fighters, and I think that they realised that by now that by engaging in constant orgies with their fellows, they had lost something special – that special bond that holds strong, brave men together, without the need for anal sex.

“What sort of prize can possibly appeal to them?, asked the friend. “They’re naked slaves, for god’s sake. You can hardly offer them a bottle of Scotch, or an extra day’s vacation, a designer shirt, or even a $100 bill!”

“Ah, said the Overseer, “and that’s the second part of my surprise. The key to that is in my pony. You know we were talking the other night about you fucking him, as the Sheik had decided he did not want to, and, as far as we know, he is a virgin – I seem to remember you found the idea of that strong, firm, virgin ass very appealing. Well I think those fighters will, too. The prize is to be allowed to be the first one to rape the pony slave.”

His friend punched the air with excitement, but I felt sick. Suddenly, the day had all gone wrong. I was dreading any prick pushing up into my rectum. Whilst I had come in these few short hours to love Hans and Mike as brothers, I has thought it would be just some silent moments we would share when our lives crossed on the estate as we had at the Stud Farm yesterday, and here today. Each of them had a huge cock, and the thought of it entering my body was completely repugnant. I had wanted love from these guys, and I was going to get sex – forced sex. Unable to stop myself, I tried to shout out in protest, but of course only strangled mumbles came out because of my tongue restraint.

The Overseer looked in our direction in amazement. “This is better than I thought”, he told the friend. “Another element to the surprise. My pony, who I thought had now truly understood what it was to be a slave, turns out still to have an opinion about his body. It really will be ‘rape’, I think.”

“So you and I can enjoy the sight of these two superb South Africans fighting, and fucking. Then when he has rested, the winner can have the pleasure of being the first up that pony slave. And we can have a second bit of fun as we watch a real rape.”

“It’s a pity you have to go home tonight. I think you would have enjoyed some things I am now planning for that pony later in the week. He has revealed himself still to be thinking of himself as a man, and not as a slave – otherwise he would have been glad to take one of those South African cocks up his ass as it would be pleasing to his master. I really can’t have that, and when I had a slave before whose mind did not become properly subservient, even though we had of course completely overcome his body, I devised an effective crash course to correct his errors. I’ll start it off again with my pony tomorrow.”

“Now, let’s get started. You’re the guest, so you can help. First, are there any rules we want the fighters to obey? Do they wrestle, or box, or both, or do they do really vicious ‘marine’ fighting? – although perhaps we’d better not have that, as they’re valuable property and we don’t want either of them permanently damaged”

Wrestling, definitely”, said the friend. “I used to do that in High School, wearing those absurdly long lycra wrestling suits that come down to your knees and cover most of your chest. I couldn’t understand why us lads weren’t allowed to wrestle in Speedos, or even in the nude if we wished. Seeing these two wrestling naked will be like a dream come true.”

“You know me so well – I only mentioned those tapes in an e-mail once, and you’ve remembered. And you’re right, too, that they’re not all that good. Sure, a lot of the guys are fairly handsome, but when they do the ‘semen’ ones, it’s obvious they have guys in from porn films, and not proper wrestlers. But perhaps I’m being too harsh – seeing it on film can never be as good as seeing it live, in front of you”.

“So it’s wrestling”, said the Overseer. “Is everything allowed, or should we set some limits? Are we going to have ’rounds’, or is it fight straight through to the final fuck? Are they allowed to eye gouge? Are they allowed to grab each other’s cocks? Can they twist each other’s ball sacs? And do we specify how the final fuck is to be performed – must it be ‘doggy’ fashion, or with the back on the sand and the guy’s legs on the shoulders of the one doing the fucking, for example.”

His friend thought for a few moments, and said “As few limits as are absolutely necessary, I think – this is to be a real fight between two proper men. So no rounds, they are to fight until one vanquishes the other. I think you’d better forbid anything that causes permanent damage, like eye gouging, as I don’t want you to get into trouble with the Sheik if his property is damaged irretrievably. Of course they must be able to grab cock, and twist balls – otherwise it will be as tame as those wrestling tapes. And as we’re saying it is to be a ‘proper’ fight, we obviously can’t lay down rules about the method of entry for the fuck – they must be allowed to do it in any way they can. We don’t want them jockeying for position in order to do something pre-specified – we want to see how real fighters respond to the challenge of fucking their opponent”.

With that, the Overseer commanded them to begin, and Hans and Mike faced each other on the sand, then cautiously moved closer to each other. Then with a blur of motion, Mike made the first move – he went for Hans’s legs. But the sand did not give him a good purchase, and he slipped as he dove for them. Hans was able to move to the side and Mike temporarily lost his balance. As Mike turned around to face Hans, Hans had wrapped one arm on top of Mike’s shoulder. He managed to get Mike down on one knee and was trying to use this advantage to get Mike face down on the ground.

Both wrestlers were of course sweating profusely, and Hans’s hands slipped over Mike’s wet body, and Mike then was able to gain the advantage. He gave Hans a chop to the midsection that stunned him. He then grabbed Hans by the balls and squeezed them so that Hans fell to the ground – it was clear that Hans would have been screaming from the pain of this savage attack had he been able, but only strangled gasps came out from him. Mike had clearly learned fast about doing whatever it takes to win, and any thought that they were ‘comrades’, and would treat each other with respect, had clearly been lost.

Mike soon got behind Hans and was able to get on top of his back and push him face down into the sand. He then mounted Hans and wrapped his arms round Hans’s waist, clasping his hands together on Hans’s hard stomach, and scrabbling his fingers backwards to try to grab Hans’s cock. He couldn’t quite reach, and could not even yank at Hans’s pubic hair to try to inflict pain, because this had recently been freshly trimmed and he could not get a purchase.

Both the Overseer and his friend were wildly excited. They leapt up and down, and circled the two nude wrestlers in order to get a good view. They were shouting encouragement to both slaves, and there was no sign that either of them favoured either wrestler. They were just keen to see each man do the utmost to vanquish the other.

Hans tried to fight Mike off and for a while it looked like a cowboy riding a wild bronco. But Mike was determined and held on, until Hans fell back down fully exhausted by his efforts.

The match had already lasted at least ten minutes, and was much more exciting than anything that the Overseer, his friend, or I had ever experienced. We were all erect, and pre cum was oozing out from me. I assumed the Overseer and his friend were the same, but as they weaved and danced around the wrestlers their cocks were bobbing up and down so hard that it was impossible to see.

All that was now left was the climax to the match. Mike was able to position his cock which now was a hard 20 cm at Hans’s anus, and after a futile effort by Hans to keep his hole closed by squeezing his sphincter muscles hard, Mike’s animal strength prevailed and his cock buried itself deep inside Hans.

Although I had seen Hans and Mike have sex with each other, and with the other cart horse slaves, this was no gentle entry to a willing partner. Both men has clearly become completely taken with the fight, and their old Marines’ instincts to utterly beat the enemy had broken through. Mike’s forced entry to Hans was as brutal as anything I could imagine.

Hans was clearly trying to cry out as Mike began fucking him, and Mike, too, would have been screaming his victory had he been able. Both of them had to settle for groans and shrieks from deep down in their throats, and the only triumphant cries came from the Overseer and his friend who had screamed a raucous “Yes!” as Mike had first brutally thrust home, and were now chanting “yes, yes, yes” in time to Mike’s insistent thrusts up his comrade’s ass.

The back and forth, in and out motion of his cock and the pendulous swinging of Mike’s balls as they smacked against Hans’s ass aroused the Overseer and his friend even more, and I could see that they had indeed now got pre-cum streaming from both their cocks; they had stopped moving around in favour of a stationary position where they could see Mike’s shaft gliding in and out of Hans. After about five minutes of hard, determined pumping, Mike finally came with an ecstatic cry in his throat and an arching of his solid muscular back, and he kept his stomach pressed firmly against Hans’s ass as the semen pumped out of him and up into Hans.

Hans seemed utterly defeated. He seemed to visibly lose his muscle tone, and lay sprawled on the sand looking completely exhausted. Mike let go from around Hans’s waist, and got to his feet. His detumescing cock was slimy from his semen and Hans’s ass, and he stood there, jabbing one arm up and down in the air in a victory salute just as Olympic athletes do, whilst his ribs went up and down as he sucked in air following the enormous exertion.

But some of the old comradeship soon started to reassert itself, and he stopped his victory celebration, looked down at Hans, and extended a hand to help him to get to his feet. Hans stood there, sand sticking to his wet body, the picture of misery. Mike looked into his eyes, and mouthed “sorry, mate” at him. Hans seemed to straighten and regain his old style and swagger – he was, after all, a fine slave, and proud of his body. He brushed between his thighs, where Mike’s cum was trickling slowly down from his anus, smelled his fingers to get a scent of Mike, grinned, and went and hugged Mike to congratulate him on his victory.

The sight of these two muscular slaves with their arms wrapped around each other in complete understanding of the position they had been put in brought a lump to my throat. They moved their hips from side to side slightly, so their cocks rubbed against each other, and it was clear that their bond of mutual affection was again established.

Whilst Mike had been enjoying his moment of exhilarating victory, stabbing the air with his fist as if he was a free spirit, the Overseer and his friend had been completely overcome with the sight they had just witnessed of the two hard bodies pumping together. I’m sure they could have ordered any of the ‘comfort’ slaves to enact a fuck any time they wanted, but the combination of the use of English, the knowledge that the two slaves had once been Marines, and the sheer energy of their fight, had all made this a unique occasion. They clearly had needed to relieve their aching erections, because both were masturbating furiously. This was no gentle, loving, mutual masturbation as they had had previously, but each was wanking himself, brutally and hard, and they each shot their loads with uninhibited cries of “fuck!” and “oh, sweet Jesus!” renting the air.

Now the Overseer saw Hans and Mike in their comradely embrace, and was outraged. “You are slaves”, he barked at them, “not lovers. Get over there, go to ‘display’, squat down, and wait for my next order.”

Hans and Mike came over to where I was already in position, and did as they had been commanded. They crouched close together in comradeship, and I was bitterly disappointed that they did not again take up position on either side of me, and instead were a little to one side. It was as if they wanted to continue to enjoy that shared moment together, and the few centimetres between them and me was all the privacy they could as slaves enjoy for their intimacy.

We all crouched there, hands behind our heads, with Hans and Mike still breathing deeply from their exertions. The air was still, dry, and very hot, and I could smell the sweat and the distinctive ammoniacal smell of semen coming from their bodies.

The Overseer and his friend decided to go for a swim whilst Mike “was recovering before claiming his prize”, so they stood up and ran, hand in hand, cocks bobbing up and down, into the water.

The three of us remained crouching, of course, and Mike and Hans exchanged many meaningful glances. Even without speaking, they could communicate. Small grunts, the soundless pronouncing of words with bold gestures of the lips, and tiny meaningful nudges of the elbows where they were touching was allowing them to ‘talk’. I realised how lucky they were to have been part of the cart-horse team since enslavement, as they could develop such nonverbal communication. I was isolated, alone, in my shafts all day, and in a solitary stall all night.

Finally, Mike turned towards me, and mouthed something. I could not at first understand him, but after a couple of attempts I thought I could make out “I’m sorry”, and this was coupled with little shrugs of his shoulders indicating that there was nothing he could do about events. I realised that he was trying to tell me that he knew that, as the winner, he was going to have to rape me whenever the Overseer decided to move on to the next stage of the surprise he had laid on for his friend.

I think that this was one of those moments that really defined my slavery – here we were, three naked guys, crouching in the sand with our hands behind our necks. The only two masters anywhere within a couple of kilometres were naked and helpless, in the water. We were not chained up, and were all fit and active – indeed, I could outrun anyone there, and any of us could easily overpower the Overseer and his friend. The Overseer’s stun gun had been left in the rickshaw, a few metres away, and it was certain that any of us could get to it before the Overseer would realise that there was even a problem and get out of the water to go to it. There were no mobile phones or radios to call for assistance, as the Sheik used his system of slave sprinters. The two ex-Marines had just carried out a degrading wrestling match, having been forced to misuse their skills and strength for the mere pleasure of the masters, and had not enjoyed it. And I was waiting to have my last shred of humanity torn away, as my ass was going to be invaded in a brutal rape. But none of us did anything – we just crouched there, waiting patiently for our next orders. We had, even in a few short months, become accustomed to the ideas of slavery, and that we were slaves. We simply did not have the free will to do anything other than wait there patiently.

Finally, Overseer and his friend came out of the water and lay on their towels, discussing the match they had seen. “Now it’s time for the second part”, said the Overseer. “The winner gets to rape my pony.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go up there first?”, he asked his friend, “It’ll be your last chance, as you’re off home tonight. I know I suggested it might not be such a good idea when you wanted to the other day, but none of the constraints then apply now. He looks eminently fuckable, and I’d do it myself except that, as you know, I leave those I need to serve me every day out of my sex plans. But I’d enjoy seeing you enjoy yourself. He’s got a magnificent body, and that butt must be a delight to force your way through to find his anus – all the running he does has given him the best ‘bubble’ I’ve ever seen. Go on, give yourself something to remember the desert by”.

“But you promised him to the winner of the match”, his friend said.

“For Christ sake”, the overseer exasperatedly explained, “Haven’t you understood anything yet? The winner was a slave. I don’t make promises or contracts with slaves. Slaves are only here to serve me, not to be ‘rewarded’. If I choose to give the pony to the slave, that’s my choice. If I don’t, that’s also my choice, and neither the slave who won or the pony has any say in the matter – and certainly shouldn’t have any interest or concern one way or the other. If you’d like the pony, just say, and he’s yours.”

“No”, the friend said “I really don’t. I’m sure he’d be a great lay, and it would be exciting to rape a helpless young guy like that, but it’s you I want. This is the last day, and we ought just to enjoy each other. What I’d really like you to do is to take me gently up the ass, whilst we both watch that young guy being raped by the Marine. It will add something extra to our lovemaking, as I contrast your gentleness with what I see in front of me”.

“You’re always so wonderfully considerate, and inventive. That’s what makes me love you”, said the Overseer. “OK. We’ll just lie here and enjoy the afternoon, stroking and kissing a bit to really get in the mood, before we start.”

To be continued …

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