I lay there for a long glorious time in my brother's arms, my cock limp from release, my eyes still ordered to focus on the ongoing sexual performances in front of me. The threat of the penile ring being replaced lingered over me as it sat discarded next to Alex's thigh. Two more slaves came to fuck in front of us. Then three were brought in together. And after each session the slaves were allowed to join their fellow performers behind me, to indulge in whatever act of debauchery they pleased. Moans and grunts, sighs and gasps filled the room. And occasionally a scream or plea arose from the poor shackled offender, as one or two of the crueler slaves went to torment him.

I was lost in the sight and sounds and smells of sex. My will to resist was beginning to fracture under the onslaught of this desensitization. Yet Alex wasn't nearly swayed by my pacifity. He knew me too well.

At first he only held me, and I thrilled in his embrace, astonished at my own feelings. It felt as if I lay in my lover's arms, warm and protected. Desperately I tried not to think of Jean, and for the most part succeeded. He was only my brother, my lover. Even the heat of his erection, tightly pressed against my back was comforting. He was controlling his own urges.

But as the minutes wore on his hands began to explore my fettered body. A hand would brush a nipple and tease it into hardness. He'd still himself for a few minutes after he'd accomplished this small goal. Then his lips would dip down upon my shoulder, drawing a shudder out of me. And his hands would begin to tease again. But while my groin responded to his touch, he'd never wrap his fingers around my cock.

Instead, when the last threesome came to their mutual climax, Alex looked up from a nip to my earlobe. Telling the two dominate slaves to join the others, he huskily invited the third to crawl over and pleasure me. My eyes widened in disbelief as the slave smiled, genuinely pleased. Slow and erotic, like some sleek panther, he came toward me on his hands and knees, licking his lips in anticipation of my taste. I began to tremble with my own desire.

He was gorgeous. Long and delicately boned, lean, yet powerful, his blue-black shoulder length hair hung sweat slick around his face. His eyes were obsidian, bright under long black feminine lashes nearly closed in naked lust. His skin was an unmarred silky olive and my fingers curled in an involuntary longing to touch that perfect flesh. When he was finally between my legs, his seductive smile broke into an irrepresible grin showing perfect white teeth.

"Gift of Allah." He breathed in a low Middle Eastern accent. And I notice around his long neck he wore a simple leather collar, not the inhibitor my brother and I had. He was human. In fact, I realized suddenly that all the slaves who'd been paraded in front of me had worn only simple collars. None of them were mutant apparently.

Thoughts fled instantly as he bent down then and licked the head of my penis. I nearly exploded, senses engulfed by the eroticism. I thrust my hips up, bending my legs to place my feet flat on the ground for extra leverage. I wanted in that mouth. But he continued to only tease me, running his long pink tongue over and around and down my hardened shaft. After he had bathed it well with his saliva, he took both testicles in his mouth, also moistening them thoroughly, jiggling them around playfully with his tongue. It was a wonder I didn't orgasm then and there. When my cock began to ooze its fluid, dripping an unusually large amount down toward the base, my pleasurer began a slow ascent up the flesh with his tongue, finally taking me between his lips. Down he went as I thrust up violently. Then my hips dropped back until he was able to wrap his tongue around the rosy head. I was close to cumming. I could feel the desire for release building up. I pushed my feet hard into the floor readying myself for the final thrust. So exquisite to be able to cum a second time.

Suddenly Alex pushed the slave back hard and my cock popped from his mouth still enflamed to land heavy against my belly. With one swift sure motion, my brother snapped the torturous ring around the base of my penis. I howled in protest, incoherently pleading for him to release me, squirming and kicking in his arms. The stunned slave also began to protest. But Alex remained firm in his action and in his grip on me. Calmly he ordered my pleasure to join the others or face punishment. Under the threat, my sweet release ran to obey, but not before placing a soft kiss on my right foot.

"Mutant. Gift of Allah." He murmured reverently.

Against the familiar throb of pain, I heaved and gasped, throwing myself forward in Alex's arms trying to break his hold. "'O!" I cried, twisting in his grip.

"Shh..." He spoke low and soothing in my ear. "You're not ready."

After that, Alex said nothing. Just held me tightly until I finished struggling. A few tears of pain ran down my cheeks. I bit down hard into the rubber gag trying to grit my teeth and bite back the tears. I wanted to scream why, but already I knew what his answer would be. He couldn't trust me. I wasn't broken.

Yet I felt defeated. Humiliated, I was beginning to notice the men, their beauty and grace, and unable to deny feeling sexually aroused. I was having thoughts that never would have occurred to me back home, safe in the mansion with my wife. I was wondering about a few of the slaves: what they would taste like, how would they kiss, what would it feel to have them deep inside me, could I take them all the way down my throat. Images came unbidden and unwanted to my mind. And the harder I tried to force them away, the harder they clutched at my consciousness. I saw myself down on all fours being taken from behind while sucking eagely on a cock. I was shackled to the wall unable to stop the men from touching me, using me, sucking on my flesh. The desensitization was affecting me, breaking down the walls of my inhibitions. I knew I couldn't last much longer, and some sad part of me, I realized, didn't care anymore.

As my breathing slowed and the familiar throb of the ring began to dull, it dawned on me that the parade of slaves had stopped. The sounds of passion from behind continued, but I was no longer being forced to watch them fuck. I closed my eyes for a moment, amazed I had held them open during this torment. I fully expected Alex's hand to drop in warning, but it never came. My eyes closed tighter and I sighed through flaring nostrils.

Several minutes passed before my brother finally spoke, and my heart froze in my chest at his words.

"You must be hungry."

I shook my head violently. Not now. He couldn't ask me to do this now after what I'd just been through. But he pushed me up to my knees determined, ignoring my pleading look and the swinging of my head in negation.

Rising to his feet, Alex moved around in front of me, his eyes hooded, his cock fully engorged. He needed his own release. I continued to protest, my eyes still begging for reprieve, when I saw a movement in my periphery. Some of the slaves were stirring, coming over to watch.

I panicked. He couldn't make me do this. Not in front of the other men. Throwing myself backward, I began pushing away from him, kicking out as he came closer, still pleading with my eyes and shaking my head furiously. Some of the slaves began to laugh, a few even jeered. And then two powerful men stepped behind me, grabbing my arms and pulling me to my knees. Oddly enough they were gentle, sidestepping my kicks and never lashing out themself. But when I felt a soft run of fingers down my back and a tender brush of lips against my neck, I struggled more fiercely, nearly dislodging the two men holding me and almost dislocating a shoulder in the process.

I wasn't going to give into this. This sexual craving, this mindless pleasure they wanted to evoke in me. It was wrong my mind screamed as my body tried to obey. And to make me do this in front of others. I couldn't take it. I wouldn't. I howled incoherently against the bit. And when I saw Alex hesitate, I howled even more, wanting to scream myself mute. I would not give in to their tenderness. *Use the collar*, I thought perversely. Give me pain. I could take that. I could take that kind of humiliation. I could use it to withstand this conditioning. To keep my will intact and to never give into Remy. But this kindness, this soft touch and warm gesture. It could be my undoing. I had to fight it, because it would change me, it would break me more completely into what Remy wanted.

"Gift of Allah." It was my beautiful one, my sweet pleasurer. "Grace us, mutant." The word mutant was never a curse on his lips. He adored me. And I hesitated at his words. I was breathing hard. I closed my eyes tightly, trying again to bite down. Then I tried to howl again, but it came as a croak and I coughed and retched. A hand slapped my back lightly. "Please. Please, grace us. Allah will look favorably on us." I shook my head as I tried to calm the choking. No. NO! I wouldn't do give into this. I squeezed tears of pain and fury from my eyes, keeping my head down.

And then a quiet chanting began. "Gift of Allah, Gift of the gods, grace us, grace us." On and on. Different languages, different names of dieties spoken, but in general the same message: Gift of God, grace us." I looked around in disbelief, my mind in a whirl. The three surrounding me suddenly stepped back and I looked up to see Alex wave his hand at the group to quiet their voices. Then he stepped towards me and bent down.

Taking my face between his hands, holding it firmly as I attempted to pull away forcefully, he said gently, "See what they think of you, Scott. They idolize you. They think it's a blessing for them to watch." For a moment I starred at him, disoriented and a little afraid. Then I shook my head 'no' again. But Alex persisted. "Favor them, Scott. They'll be a much kinder audience than any other you'll be ordered to perform for.

The shock of this statement ended my resistance. Of course Remy would want to show me off. Like some prized object, he'd parade me in front of his peers and command me to perform like some circus animal. Once I was broken and fully trained he'd want to show off my skills. Maybe even give private performances for a few of his closest friends. I hung my head, humiliated.

Alex wouldn't have my dejection. He lifted my chin, running his thumb along my bottom lip. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll be with you for every performance. We're a matching set: Remy's brothers." This didn't bring me much comfort and I glared at him. From where I stood, or rather knelt, who the sub would be was pretty obvious.

Ignoring my look, Alex placed a tender kiss on my forehead and stood up, guiding himself to my mouth. I didn't back away, but knelt there letting him in and digging my nails into my palms breaking the skin in several places. But then his pre-cum oozed onto my tongue and I was lost in the need to quench my thirst and stop the churning of my hunger pangs.

The room grew still and quiet. All the slaves had stopped to watch me feed. But I heard little except the slurp of my tongue and a grunt from my brother. And in no time at all his sperm filled my belly.

When his final shudder passed and he pulled his softening cock from between my lips, the men began to clap and cheer, shouting their delight. Some clapped me on the back, while others praised me saying how blessed they were and that fortune did indeed smile on Remy's palace. A look from my brother finally silenced them and they all began to drift away, back to their own play.

Drawing me to my feet, Alex led me over to the sunken area in the middle of the room. Still not saying a word he helped me down among the pillows and pulled me into his arms, lying back into the softness. My head rested on his chest, my belly pressed down between his legs. Softly he began to stroke my back, my arms, my rear. His touches were feather-light and comforting. Tears stung my lids and I fought them back, not wanting him to see my weakness. But then he noticed the tears on the palms of my hands. Small spots of dried blood covered them where I'd sunken my nails into the flesh. He kissed the wounds tenderly and called for one of the slaves to bring a wet cloth. Then he gently, carefully cleaned the blood away and I swallowed, unable to hold back my pain any longer. Quiet and sweet, laying a kiss on my forehead, Alex began to croon.

"Rest, Scott. You've done so well. Rest, just sleep. You're safe. No more tonight. No more..." Lulled by the warmth of his arms and his words I drifted, vaguely aware that someone had handed him a brush and he was running it through my hair, his lips just a breath away from my brow. Just like I use to do to Jean. Jean. When I dropped off to sleep my dreams were full of her beauty and love.
 

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