Sex Slave

This is a copyrighted work of fiction. All rights reserved.

All characters who engage in sex in this story are at least eighteen years of age.

Warning, this story contains explicit descriptions of male/male sex.

Many thanks to my editor Lin Hall and my beta reader nomoretears00 for their sharp eyes endless encouragement.

Sex Slave - 8: Lust and Betrayal

Rees looked at the foreman, startled.

Fuck, he's pointing at me! What did he just say?

Rees fought to maintain focus as blind terror gripped him.

The foreman indicated an area away from the slave chain. "Wait over there."

Rees's body responded to the foreman's command without any input from his brain. He moved to stand in the indicated spot.

No, God, please! Not again!

He begged his deity with all the passion in his heart. His God seemed to have forsaken him of late.

Every fiber of his being rebelled at the thought of seeing Master Rim soon. He lived in terror that his master would torture his family—his love, Arriene, and his infant son, Matson. He would either have to watch helplessly or commit some terrible atrocity to prevent it.

He could not stop the very physical reaction that overtook his body. He began to shake and his breathing became ragged. Tears suddenly flooded into his eyes. He blinked them back, biting his lip to stem the flow. His stomach churned, threatening to expel his breakfast.

He forced his mind to go blank. Just blank.

He could not stop the trembling in his limbs, and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest in an effort to still them.

Timor joined him, apparently having been singled out as well. That was a surprise, but it did not diminish the gut-wrenching dread that gripped him.

Timor looked at him sympathetically and started to lay what was surely meant as a comforting hand on Rees's arm. Rees stiffened and glared at him. He dropped his hand and his gaze. Rees focused once more on breathing and not thinking.

The foreman was still speaking. "If you know how to read, raise your hand."

Keven raised his hand, and Tolsten quickly put his hand up too. There were only a handful of slaves who knew how to read. The foreman signaled to Keven and Tolsten to go stand next to Rees and Timor.

Why would they need someone who knows how to read?

The question wormed its way into Rees's fear-numbed brained. He and Timor had likely been chosen because of their size, he realized; they were the largest men in the pen. Perhaps they were not to be tortured today. Did he dare to hope?

"You can read?" Keven leaned over and hissed this question into Tolsten's ear. Slaves were not supposed to speak unless spoken to.

Tolsten shook his head, "no."

"Tolsten!" Keven whispered more loudly than he meant to. "What are you thinking?"

Tolsten's beautiful brown eyes widened and fear flickered across his young face.

Why would he pretend he could read?

Sometimes Keven didn't understand Tolsten at all. He hoped they would be in a situation where he would be able to cover for Tolsten's mistake.

They stood quietly while the slave handlers chained them together and bound their hands behind them. They took no chances. Keven had been looking for weaknesses in their methods since he'd arrived. There had been none. Their procedures were foolproof and were always followed to the letter. Master Rim's estate ran like a well-oiled machine. There was never a hitch in the perfect purr of the engine.

They were led down endless, convoluted corridors in the sprawling estate, and then down into the bowels of the basement. The air cooled noticeably as they descended several levels, down a crooked, twisting staircase. The floor seemed almost damp beneath their feet and the unrelenting stench of mildew assailed them.

Hope flared in Rees's breast. They were not being taken to the amphitheatre. Maybe he wouldn't be seeing Master Rim today after all. The dim, dank basement, however, did not engender positive feelings and Rees was still full of trepidation.

After they passed through a set of heavy doors, they were delivered into the hands of a man who appeared to be a clerk. The handlers unchained them, leaving them bound. They stayed close, choke-chains and whips at the ready.

The nervous clerk showed them further down a wide hallway, pausing in a doorway to address them.

They crowded around the doorway to the large room. It was mostly full. Crates, sacks, and barrels were piled haphazardly, interspersed with odds and ends of equipment and tools.

The clerk indicated the closest large barrel, upon which sat a leather-bound ledger book, quill and ink pot. As the small man began to address them, he looked up at Rees and Timor, craning his neck as he tilted his head back to see their faces. He took a few fidgety steps into the room.

"You are here to do inventory," his voice squeaked.

Inventory?

A smile of relief split Rees's handsome face.

Thank you, God!

"Ahem," the clerk cleared his throat, seeming to make an effort to calm himself. He glanced behind them at the handlers and took a deep breath.

"We have two large rooms of stuff that need to be organized, counted and catalogued. You'll work in teams of two, a worker and scribe; each team will take a room. You will finish by the end of the day."

The consequences of not finishing on time were left unspoken, but none of the slaves made the mistake of assuming that was a viable option. They would work their asses off to be done by the end of the day, although this far underground it would be difficult to tell when that might be.

After insuring that they knew how to fill out the ledger books, the clerk quickly scurried out. The handlers freed Tolsten of his bonds and took their leave, bolting the heavy doors behind them.

Tolsten lost no time in freeing the others. He was bursting with excitement.

"We get to spend the whole day unsupervised!"

"You're just damn lucky that's the case," Keven said dryly. "This could have gone very badly for you."

Both Rees and Timor looked curious.

"He can't read," Keven explained.

"What?" Timor was aghast. "Why would you tell them you could read if you can't? That's crazy!"

Tolsten's animated face darkened with shame. He responded slowly, his eyes flickering from face to face, begging understanding. "I don't know. Sometimes I don't think. I wanted to go with you! I thought maybe I could fake the reading part."

Rees shook his head and Timor looked at Tolsten with an expression that bordered on incredulous. "You can't fake knowing how to read."

"Timor can you read?" Keven asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact, I can," Timor replied. "My father is a merchant. I have been trained for business."

Keven looked relieved. "That's great!" He turned to Tolsten and scolded. "You are damn lucky! If Timor couldn't read, we would all need to work the same room, and I doubt we would be close to finishing by the end of the day. You would have jeopardized us all."

Tolsten looked appropriately chastised. "I'm sorry."

He shivered suddenly, realizing how cold he was. He rubbed his arms, and began to prance, pulling his feet one by one up from the cold floor. "It's freezing down here."

"You'll warm up as soon as you start working," Keven told him. He was cold too and longed for woolen leggings and a sweater instead of his body-baring loincloth.

"I realize we have a lot to do, but shall we explore a bit before we get started?" Timor asked, taking a torch from the wall.

"Yes, definitely," Keven said. He was always on the lookout for some way to escape. Tolsten ran circles around the others as they explored, sometimes bounding ahead of them like a spaniel, his long sleek ponytail bouncing behind.

There were two branching hallways, which were dead-ends, all the doors locked save one, which contained a water pump and toilet trough.

"Wow! Master Rim even has toilets in his basement dungeon!" Tolsten exclaimed.

"It's not a dungeon," Rees corrected him. It did seem a bit dungeony. He was trying hard not to think about that.

The main hallway ended at another set of double-doors which were securely bolted. The only unlocked door in the main hallway led to the second room to be inventoried. It appeared much the same as the first, with a ledger and writing materials available there as well. Rees noted with discomfort that there were manacles all along one wall of that room, but it appeared they had not been used in some time. The room was clearly a storeroom now.

"I guess we'd better get started," Keven said. "Rees and I will pair up in the first room, and you can take the second. I expect it will take you longer since your worker and your clerk are one and the same person." He shot a glare at Tolsten. "We'll come help you finish as soon as we're done."

Rees and Keven worked and chatted amiably for most of the day. They quickly fell into a rhythm with Keven tracking the inventory and helping move items when he could, and Rees doing most of the heavy lifting. Keven was glad for the chance to bond with his friend again. They carefully avoided talking about Keven's sexual relationship with Tolsten. Rees had obviously come to accept it, but was still not comfortable with it.

Meanwhile, Tolsten and Timor were getting to know each other.

"Since I'm the clerk, you are the worker. Better start hauling," Timor stated flatly, as he paged through the ledger book looking for the proper section.

Tolsten's eyes widened. He looked at Timor and then looked at the quantity of stuff in the room and then back at Timor again.

Timor had found the page which had a number matching the number on the door to the room and reviewed the items that were supposed to be there.

"Hmm. There are pecan nuts here somewhere. I wonder if anyone will notice if a few go missing."

Tolsten grinned. Working with Timor would be fun! Keven would never consider taking anything.

He had been watching Timor since the giant had arrived in the slave pens a couple of weeks earlier. Timor was the largest man Tolsten had ever seen. He was well-proportioned and supremely muscled, with a nice forest of dark hair over his chest and stomach. His legs were as thick as tree trunks and his upper arms were probably as big around as Tolsten's thin waist. He was not classically handsome, but his dark wavy hair, steel-gray eyes and strong jaw completed a very masculine look. Tolsten had a thing for big men and could hardly help from drooling when Timor was near. The man was just delicious.

Tolsten loved Keven dearly, but was frustrated with him. Keven always followed the rules—something Tolsten usually avoided if he thought he could get away with it. His lover was also reticent to make love if anyone else was paying attention, which, living on top of each other in the slave pens, was most of the time. Tolsten usually only managed to seduce him in the middle of the night.

Sex was always, always good, but Keven was too gentle. Tolsten craved rough sex and even though he'd begged Keven for it, Keven did not seem capable of the brutality that Tolsten needed. Tolsten was feeling horny and unsatisfied.

And now Keven was mad at him for lying about his ability to read. Tolsten chafed a bit at that.

It had worked out fine. What was the big deal?

"It looks like it's mostly foodstuff, but there's also some textiles and tackle and such," Timor said. "My suggestion is that we put all the food along that wall and all of the other stuff along this wall." He waved his hands at two opposite walls.

Tolsten was peering into crates and poking his fingers at sacks. He ignored Timor.

Timor was a little irritated with the youth for lying about being able to read, because of course, it would make more work for him. It was hard to stay mad at the excitable boy though. He was just too cute—a mouthwatering morsel.

Hey! None of that!

he warned himself.

The boy is taken.

Observing him now he realized that if he didn't set a precedent right away, he'd end up doing all the work while Tolsten lounged. He noticed a tangle of bridles with reins and managed to disengage one from the pile.

"Boy!" he yelled. "Get to work!"At the same time, he flicked the long leather rein across the back of Tolsten's bare legs, causing, he was sure, some little sting.

Tolsten yelped and jumped a foot into the air. He whirled to find the gorgeous giant laughing at him. The back of his thighs stung like hell. His cock immediately turned to stone. He whimpered with desire.

Timor saw the look of unbridled lust in Tolsten's eyes. The whimper that came out of the youth's mouth thrummed through him, raising the hairs on his arms. His cock spasmed with sudden engorgement. He sucked in a deep breath.

Fuck! Better not do that again. The boy likes it too much.

"Well," he said, trying to sound impatient, "better start hauling."

"You're not serious? You're not going to help me?"

"I'm the scribe. You're the worker. Start hauling. I'll make sure everything gets properly recorded."

With a good-natured grumble, Tolsten picked up the nearest sack of grain, and staggering a bit under its weight, he managed to haul it across the room and place it against the indicated wall.

The giant smirked at him. "So far, one wheat," he said. "There are supposed to be eight. Let's keep them all together."

So it went for most of the day. Timor made Tolsten carry everything that was small enough for him to handle, but Timor did a lot of the hauling as well. When he helped, he didn't lose the opportunity to rib Tolsten about him having to do both of their jobs.

Except for the heavy lifting, Tolsten was in heaven. Timor was huge and handsome and funny—and seemed to be flirting with him. Many hours later, as the pile of unsorted things dwindled, he was exhausted but panting with desire. His boner had become a permanent feature of his anatomy.

He bent over to pick up a large bag of coffee beans, making sure to wiggle his ass a bit for Timor's benefit. The beans were heavy and his tired muscles trembled with effort. When he finally got the bag onto his shoulder he complained, "Damn, these weigh a ton! I bet even you couldn't carry more than one."

His comment was an effort to get Timor to help him by showing him that he could carry two, or maybe even three, at a time. To his surprise and delight, Timor scooped him up into his arms. He let out a squeal.

Timor carried him and the beans across the room without any apparent effort. "I can carry both you and the coffee beans, brat!" Timor laughed.

Tolsten's big eyes got even bigger. He let the coffee beans rest against his stomach while he ran one of his hands over Timor's unbelievably broad chest, tangling his fingers in the short, curly hair. He was speechless with awe. Their bare skin rubbing gently together with the rhythm of Timor's walk set him aflame. The big man's spicy musk filled his senses, causing his body to tremble and his cock to throb. His eyes locked onto Timor's wide mouth. He needed a kiss.

Timor set him down on a stack of barrels that was high enough that they were almost eye-level. He took the coffee beans away from him and tossed them to the side as if they weighed nothing.

The youth was practically swooning. He locked his legs as tightly around the Timor's huge chest as he could, and wrapping his arms around his neck, he pulled himself up for a hot kiss.

Timor's lips were firm yet soft. Tolsten pressed little, panting, aggressive kisses on him. At first Timor stiffened and Tolsten was afraid that he would pull away. But suddenly he wrapped his arms around the youth and kissed him back with passion. Tolsten opened his mouth and the giant's tongue slipped inside, thrusting and searching. Tolsten submitted to the welcome invasion, a small whimper erupting from the back of his throat. He could not help humping his swollen cock against Timor's washboard stomach as flames engulfed his groin.

Timor broke away with a gasp and disengaged himself, taking a step back. His face was flushed, and Tolsten could see the red head of his penis poking out of the top of his loin cloth. He almost jumped off the barrel right then to suck on it, but the expression on Timor's face stopped him.

"What are you doing, Tolsten?" Timor chided. "Kissing me when you're with Keven?"

Keven?

A bright flare of guilt engulfed Tolsten's heart, but he quickly extinguished it. He wanted sex with this magnificent man badly, and he would probably not get another chance. "Keven? Oh, we're not exclusive."

"You're not?" The giant sounded quite surprised.

"Of course not. I don't do exclusive," he said loftily.

Timor looked at him skeptically and grunted, turning away.

"Oh, please fuck me!" Tolsten begged. He had been flirting like crazy all day, and now he gave up on subtle entirely and let Timor know exactly what he wanted. "I want your giant cock inside me! Oh please!"

"No!" Timor said firmly over his shoulder. "I'm going to go pee and get rid of our evidence." He scooped up the pile of pecan shells they had created. "You finish hauling all this coffee over there." He strode out the door without a backward glance.

Tolsten stared after him, his mouth open, his dick throbbing.

Damn! When he was kissing me, I was sure he was ready to fuck. The man is a fucking stud horse. If I don't get a piece of his fine, huge cock I'm gonna fucking explode!"

With a frustrated moan, he jumped off the barrel and began hauling coffee. As he was setting the first bag down, his eyes fell on the set of manacles attached to the wall at a height somewhat above his head. It was the last set along the wall—most of them had already been hidden by the growing pile of foodstuffs—and he saw that there was a key in the lock.

A vision of himself chained against the wall, being fucked by the giant, jumped into his head. He gasped as if someone had just deep-throated his cock.

Fuck! That's what I want!

The setup was perfect. The door to the room was on the center of one wall. The goods had been piled high along the side walls extending out eight or ten feet, so that there was a wide corridor down the center of the room. Away from the door, on the foodstuff side, there was still about ten feet of open wall where the manacles were. Boxes and barrels were in the way and no one would be able to see anything happening in that corner unless they were almost on top of it.

Tolsten lost no time in stripping off his loin cloth. He pulled the tie out of his shiny, dark hair, letting it spill loose down his back to where it brushed the top of his butt. He pushed the coffee bean bag under the manacles and stepped onto it. Fiddling with them a minute, he was delighted to discover that they locked automatically when you snapped them shut, and the key did indeed open them.

He looked around for someplace safe to put the key and had a deliciously evil idea.

I'm going to get fucked right now, for sure!

After stashing the key, he locked himself into the manacles, facing the wall, and waited for Timor to return. His eyes were lust-blown and his body quivered with anticipation.

*****

Timor groaned as he headed down the hall. The youth was too much.

Fuck! That boy is hot and horny, and he's making me all kinds of hot and horny too

. Even if Tolsten was completely available, and Timor had some doubts in spite of what the boy said, he was simply too small. Timor was not going to force his humungous cock into that tiny ass. He ground his teeth in frustration.

Damn that boy for getting me all fucking bothered!

By the time he returned from the toilet, he had calmed down some, although his cock was still mostly hard. The rest of the day was going to be difficult. He entered the room and didn't see Tolsten. "Where the hell are you, boy?" he bellowed, expecting that the youth was hiding, probably not even in the room anymore, avoiding the rest of the work. He heard a whimper and went to investigate.