Chapter 4

 

 

We found that using Bobby as a tool to demonstrate to Sunti and Anton just how terrible were the consequences of rape to its victims was utterly wonderful, not the least of which was the spectacle of watching a muscular male rape another while a third looked on with horror, knowing that in a day, a few days or perhaps a few weeks, he too would be suffering the same treatment.

I discussed the act to be performed with Bobby, of course. He had been reluctant at first but then, as his mind became used to the idea, he did at least show a little enthusiasm for what he had thought a highly repugnant act.

“I think it would be best if he was left free, Angie,” he said and when I began to protest, he explained. “If this act is to be shown as a rape of his body, I will have to physically overpower him and then force him to take my cock. You have decided that Sunti is to be the first and I doubt I will have a lot of trouble subduing him. Anton may well be another matter for we are about equal in strength, I imagine. Anyway let’s leave that until the time comes. But with Sunti, I suggest you let me take him on the floor of the main room of the cellar, beat him at wrestling and then place him over something convenient and then fuck him brutally?”

I stared at him in awe. I knew he hadn’t wanted to take part in this act but true to his new nature, he had accepted our plan and had now adjusted it in his mind. When I put it to the other two, they agreed instantly and so we four went down to the cellars on the day and while we three ladies sat ourselves down in three chairs, Bobby went to Sunti’s cell and brought him out, leaving Anton standing naked at the bars of his to watch what was going to happen to his companion-in-misery this time.

Bobby stood the so handsome Thai boy in front of us and then informed him that he was going to rape him, just as he had all those girls we had researched. The boy quailed but then made as if to fight off my husband-to-be. Bobby just grinned however and reached out with his now very muscular right arm, twisted the other boy’s arm expertly his back and then slapped his face – hard – very hard, back and forth. But Sunti was a near-top gymnast and they are also very strong. He slipped out of Bobby’s grip and then it was on. The pair of them then wrestled although it wasn’t according to the rules. It was more of a free-for-all but as I watched, at first in worry that Bobby might not win, then, as I noted his skill in anticipating the Thai boy’s next move, more and more relaxed, I began actually to enjoy the fight.

Two superb, stark naked bodies: both extraordinarily handsome; both splendidly muscled and each with all body hair gone, their flesh smooth and clean, and with muscles as well-defined as one could ask for, each straining this way and that so as to show it all off wonderfully. And in Bobby’s case, his cock was at full mast, as if to show the other boy what awaited him when he finally succumbed to my man’s superior strength and skill.

Bobby was certainly in command most of the time but now and then Sunti got the upper hand but more and more Bobby had him down on his back and then sat astride him, slapped his face a few more times, then stretched the other boy’s arms up and out from his body and thrust his rampant cock into his face, his buttocks on the copper-coloured boy’s chest and his balls over his mouth while his cock lay up the rest of his face.

Of course Bobby won the fight and then after Sunti had capitulated, Bobby was onto him once more, this time drawing his legs up onto his shoulders, exposing and opening his anus to view but still holding his arms up and out from his torso. He leered down at the now frightened Thai boy but then simply moved his loins back down his torso a little and plunged it straight in the now pulsing anal orifice.

“Aaagheeeaaaghooowwwghaaagh!” he screamed as Bobby’s huge tool slammed hard into his backside and he struggled powerfully against the rape. But Bobby had him down securely and although Sunti now tried to use his muscular legs to push his assailant off his body, Bobby was smart, lowering his right down onto the other and then kissing him hard, right on the lips.

We watched in more awe as my man disarmed the tall and so well-muscled Thai boy and then Sunti just seemed to collapse and accept the rape, even extricating his arms from Bobby’s grip and now encircling Bobby’s torso and kissing him back.

From that moment on, it was no longer rape but I think it might also have been at that moment that Sunti realised his former actions with his girlfriends might have been over the odds and he, like Bobby before him, now accepted his position as our slave.

And it wasn’t that far different with Anton although he put up more of a fight against Bobby’s attack on his anus. He certainly had the edge on my fiancé when it came to height and sheer size but Bobby had, in the two month plus we had had him, become as strong as an ox and as fluid and supple in his movements as the finest gymnast alive. Of course we had included gymnastics in his training regime but he wasn’t a patch on us or even on Sunti. It takes years to train a gymnast; not only in the skills associated with the actual pieces of equipment such as the parallel or horizontal bars or the roman rings but also in acquiring the strength to perform the routines and the suppleness of body to give that edge of sheer beauty to them.

Nevertheless, he beat him and I think it was that something else that he had: intelligence! Bobby was, and is, very bright. He latches on to something very quickly and used this trait to anticipate what Anton was going to do next and then move to thwart him. In this way he wore the black boy down and finally he too gave in.

What surprised us then though, was that he didn’t utter a sound when Bobby rammed his turgid pecker into his anus. I felt my eyes narrowing as I watched this and I suddenly knew the boy was a closet gay. His bravado with the girls he had trained (and others) was just a cover for his homosexuality and also that in all likelihood, he discarded them when they came too close in order to cover up the fact he didn’t really want them at all and marriage would be the last thing he wanted – to any of them.

I drew my companions aside and told them of my suspicions and then we all watched as the handsome black boy now made ardent love to my man. We all agreed I was right and so we marched up to the pair of male ‘lovers’ and I dragged Bobby away from him while the other two put Anton back in his cell.

Upstairs, Bobby told us he had been overwhelmed by the too-handsome black boy’s sudden about face but that he too was sure I was right. “So what do we do with him?” I asked, staring around at my three companions, “dump him right back where we found him?”

“No, I don’t think we should do that, ladies,” said Bobby. “For a start, it would be dangerous to us, but secondly, I think, as he is obviously bisexual (for he did have it on with all those girls), we may well be able to show him that heterosexual love is possible for him and that women aren’t all bad…”

He grinned as he said this last but I cuffed him just the same. “Watch it, boy,” I said, but I was grinning, too. But then I looked at him seriously. “You really think we can do this? Take a boy who obviously likes you more than us and swing the balance enough to make him a good slave to a deserving woman and one who genuinely loves her?”

“Yes I do,” Bobby said emphatically and the other two, while looking a mite doubtful about it spoke up. Geraldine spoke first: “You know, even if Bobby isn’t right about the latter, he certainly is about the danger to us. But I have a feeling that with my psychiatric expertise and Bobby’s help, we may be able to swing this.”

“My help?” said Bobby worriedly, no doubt thinking Geraldine wanted to use him as the boy’s lover, performing an act he very much disliked.

She reached over and cuffed him. “No, not that way, fool…” But she was grinning and so he now looked at her inquiringly. “What I want is for you to talk to him about women, Bobby. About the pleasure you derive from our bodies, draw him away from males and to us. It’s a new theory, very different from those used for a century or more such as aversion therapy and shock treatment which were really dreadful. Simple rational conversation with a man whose body he admires and perhaps even yearns for but who is heterosexual may well help.

“Anyway, it can’t hurt and I don’t think we dare just let him go. Even though he can’t see or hear us properly, it’s still too much of a risk in my opinion.

And so that’s what we did. Geraldine had him daily for psychiatric sessions while Bobby spent a lot of time with him in the gym, the showers and then just talking in his cell and soon enough both were able to report that he seemed to be changing his attitude to women.

Then I stepped in. Until there was even a small sign of a change, we had scrupulously avoided any sexual contact with him. Yes, he had made love to women before but Geraldine told us that this was most likely only a very small pleasure for him. It was more his perceived need to prove himself as a man that he did it at all.

And so when we all agreed the time was right, I went down to his cell and invited him – yes, invited, not ordered – to my bed. He looked up at me and smiled, just a little. “You want me, a poof, into your bed, mistress?”

“What you are is of no consequence to me, boy, the thing is, will you come?”

“Yes, oh yes!” he said, apparently eager now.

I had asked Bobby to make himself scarce. I didn’t want his fabulous body as a distraction for Anton. And so there were just the two of us in my bedroom. “Undress me, boy,” I said softly.

He did. He now seemed genuinely to want to please me and so I decided to play along with him. He was careful and considerate in removing my clothes and when I was naked at last, he picked me up, as Bobby was wont to do (had my man been teaching him some tricks, I wondered) and placed me gently down on the bed and then he proceeded to make love to me in almost as competent a manner as Bobby.

Yes, he wasn’t new to it. He had bedded countless girls but we also knew it was all a sham. What he was demonstrating now was anything but a pretence, however. He was slow and careful in how he raised my libido and clearly his own pleasure was on the back burner, although his boner was as hard as anything Bobby was capable of. This was no half-hearted attempt to mollify me, I was sure about that.

He made love to me for two hours! Two hours of wondrous pleasure for me and in the process, he came twice. The first time was about an hour after it began but it only took him about ten minutes to get it up again, that in itself a marvel as I well knew he was more turned on by Bobby’s body than mine – or at least he had been.

In that ten minutes we talked. I was lying on my back and he on his side, his fingers seemingly idly tracing little whorls on my flesh but, as I well knew, they were anything but idle – he seemed to know all the erogenous zones of a woman’s body and was exciting me wonderfully with them.

I asked him about his apparent transformation and as he stared down at me, the mask giving him only a blurred view of my face and body, he tried to explain it.

“I have never wanted to be gay, mistress. I tried it on with women but then I got scared and rebuffed them. That fright manifested itself as bravado but in fact I was anything but brave. In fact, I think I was really scared of them.

“Mistress Y and Bobby showed me that women can be wonderful creatures and I only really had to let my bodily senses go and I would see that wonder in them. I thought it was worth a try and here we are.”

I was astounded. Surely if this was all it took, why weren’t other gays being treated as he had been? Later, in discussion with Geraldine, she pointed out that he was a true bisexual, possibly with a leaning towards hetero – but something in his early life had pushed him towards the gay side. She (and Bobby) had merely redressed the balance.

During the next hour, he proved himself again, bringing me to numberless orgasms and coming himself at the end. I kept him in my bed that night (to Bobby’s disappointment) and in his sleep he held me in his arms all night.

We decided he was worth the effort and now, believe it or not, Phoebe announced that she was interested in him.

“I’m not making any hasty decisions, ladies, but now that we have fined down his body and his attitude has changed, once we are sure he is not hiding his homosexuality, I think I might be interested…”

The other three of us grinned at her and I know we were pleased for he was certainly a very handsome young man and as long as our ‘cure’ was real we thought he would make a good husband for her.

We then turned on Geraldine. “And what about you, girl?” I demanded in mock forcefulness. “Are you going to fall for Sunti?”

I had been joking, but to my shock, she looked sheepish. “Well, he is rather handsome but like Geraldine, I would want to be sure we really and truly have knocked that arrogance out of him.”

I looked across at Bobby and grinned. “It seems we may have struck gold with each of you males, eh, Bobby?”

He didn’t return the grin. “It does seem so, but how could that be? I know I genuinely love you and I knew it even when I couldn’t see or hear you properly. Something in me told me it was real and then when you revealed yourself to me I thought all my Christmases had come at once.

“Then, when Phoebe just now revealed her attraction for Anton, I began to wonder. Now, Geraldine seems to be interested in Sunti…? Can it all be so miraculous? Three out of three?” He paused a moment and then looked across at Geraldine. “Are you sure, Geraldine, that the three of you aren’t just reacting to our admittedly good bodies and reformed minds. Can you be really sure you love us for ourselves and that that love is strong enough to last all our lives…?”

She looked back at him fondly. “You really do have a perspicacious mind, Bobby. I take on board what you have said and in fact wondered about my own feelings in much the same way.

“But I have watched Angie carefully however and I believe she is truly in love with you as are you with her.

“Phoebe,” she said then, looking across at our friend, “I can’t comment on you, yet. Your love for him is all too new to me and then, so far as my own for Sunti is concerned, I can’t tell yet how genuine my feelings for him are either, or indeed whether he is even truly reformed or not.

“I thank you though, Bobby, for your honesty and your perspicacity. I know I am going to be conferring with you a lot more from now on about us all but particularly our slaves.”

That night in my bed, I grilled Bobby even more. What made you believe the other two’s feelings for the boys may not be genuine?” I asked him after yet another hour of torrid lovemaking.

“Nothing really,” he replied, sliding his so beautifully muscled arm under my neck and pulling my head to his. “It just seemed too much of a coincidence, that’s all.”

I grinned, kissed him hard and then lay back, thinking about it. “Perhaps it means that true love may not be just a coincidence of meeting, but can also be created by proximity and conditioning. We chose you three boys for your looks, your arrogance or whatever and for your minds. Perhaps those qualities, coupled with our successful treatment of what we perceived to be your faults, made us fall in love with you. And perhaps then it became mutual? What d’you think?”

He lay there for long minutes, looking dreamily at my face as he considered my words, but then he replied: “I think you are right. But it’s a bit frightening, isn’t it? I mean, if you are right, couples deemed compatible could be trained to love one another?”

“Oh I don’t think it would work every time. What I am saying is that if I am right, it simply changes the coincidence factor somewhat. I don’t think it would work every time by any means. If the other two do get hitched to Anton and Sunti, I think we can count ourselves very lucky, that’s all.”

“That leads us to another question,” he said then. “Suppose all three of you hitch up to us, what happens then? You certainly don’t need three of us males to run this place and in any case, don’t you think it’s all a bit risky? I mean, I think you struck gold with us three. I believe we may all be considered success stories but that mightn’t be the case every time. If one of them was to get his mask off and discover your identities, you could be facing very serious consequences?”

I thought about his words. Of course he was right. What we were doing was downright illegal and could see the three of us in jail for a long time.

I turned to him and hugged his beautiful body close. “Oh Bobby, I am so glad I found you and that you love me as you do. You are right of course. And I am sure the other two will agree. Let’s just hope that Sunti and Anton do fall in love with them…”

 

But that wasn’t the end of our camp.

We continued on with Anton and Sunti’s physical training, but more importantly, their mental evaluations until we, all four of us, were convinced they were genuinely reformed and, from the sexual testing each of my friends carried out with her chosen stud, that he seemed to truly love her.

The upshot of this testing and evaluation was that we all married our man. But it was not immediate. We all wanted to be really sure of Anton and Sunti and while I had realised very quickly that I did indeed love Bobby and he, me; the others were less sure of their men or even of their own feelings, and even Bobby was concerned for my friends’ future happiness.

And so we continued on with their training, keeping them in the masks, working their bodies to the limit and at the same time testing their minds as to their new attitudes and their sincerity.

Of course Bobby and I kept on inventing new machines to work their bodies – and, as it happened, ours, too. The latest was a galley. Yes, a real slave galley complete with benches, oars and even a deck, deck-head and very realistic bulkheads (walls) at the sides. Of course it only had enough spaces for six slaves – three rows and two columns, making places for six rowers but we made it as authentic as we could, setting it up in one of the spare rooms in the cellar (which had been designed with such a possibility in view). We spent many hours fashioning the interior of the slave-deck but at the same time, designed and manufactured the working parts.

These comprised the oar handles themselves which of course led out through small ports in the ‘bulkheads’ at either side of the ‘slave-deck’ and were hinged and fixed there by rowlocks set into the port. On the outside, on both the port and starboard sides, the outer ends of the oars were connected to sturdy poles which led forward to cranks on the outer end of a shaft which led back into the ‘stern’ of the galley so that the rowers were facing it. In the middle of the deck, at the end of the corridor between the two pairs of benches, we built a supporting frame for a large stone wheel and yes, if you guessed this was located onto and driven by the shaft, you would be spot-on. And so, when it was finished, we had three rows of short benches on either side of the galley, each with its own oar, and these six oars drove the stone wheel by means of the interconnecting rods, cranks and the main shaft.

We were keen to test it of course and so as soon as we had put the finishing touches to it, we led the others, my two friends and their slaves down into the room which we had hitherto asked them not to visit.

As they entered, each was suitably impressed with how well we had mocked up the slave deck of a real ancient galley, even to the flickering oil lamps set in wall sconces. We placed the three males on the port side of the corridor while we ladies took our places on the starboard side, alongside our respective males so we could look across at their straining muscles and they, us.

I had placed Bobby and me in the front row because I wanted to start the wheel manually, not sure if the oars could do it first off. I gave it a push and then the others grasped his or her handle and, as they were now moving slowly backwards, took up the load and pulled with all their might.

Bobby and I had spent hours calculating the leverage necessary to turn the wheel at a fair speed so as to impose a reasonably heavy load on the rowers, assuming four would be the standard but allowing for two or six as well, but I now watched critically as the five straining bodies caused the wheel to move faster and faster and then I joined them, ducking the now moving oar handle at my place.

We had also designed the machine so that the end of the oar handle, where we would grasp it, moved back and forth about a metre and a half. This meant the rower had to lean right forward over his or her knees at the end of the forward stroke, and then lie right back supine with the handle over his head before it reversed direction. This was so that not only the upper body muscles: the arms, shoulders and chest muscles got a workout but also those in the abdominal region and even the buttocks and thighs got a share.

The other four seemed to delight in this scene. First because of its authenticity, for it really looked like a genuine slave deck – apart from the huge stone wheel out front anyway; but also because it was such a wonderful exercise. We three friends had always punished our bodies to the limit so hard physical effort was no stranger to us, but with the boys, in varying degrees. All of them had good physiques but not all had worked them hard of late. Under our tutelage they had, of course and by now expected to be put to heavy labour or exercise at all times they weren’t undergoing mental conditioning, domestic training or sexual education. And our galley was a masterpiece of simulated slave labour.

I know I am implying they had come to think of themselves as slaves and I do so intentionally for to my surprise (but not Geraldine’s, it seemed) they quickly fell into the that role. Always naked – never allowed even a codpiece over their genitals; depilated nude from their eyelashes down, worked to the limit of their exhaustion and trained by pain never to look directly at us, to speak unless invited to do so, and otherwise conditioned to consider themselves as real slaves. And it worked!

But now, as galley slaves, they worked with a will and while we ladies worked alongside them, we were in fact letting them do most of it and then eventually sliding out from our benches to stand and watch their incredibly beautiful bodies straining hard as they pulled back on their oars and then had to push them back down their bodies in the reverse stroke.

On the pull-stroke it was best for at those times every muscle in their bodies stood out sharply and cleanly, some quivering with the effort, but all looking absolutely fabulous and at those times, I just wanted to grab Bobby and take him up to my bed!

I had become a nymphomaniac? Not exactly, but by now, his sexual expertise, trained by me of course, had become as good as I could get it. Yes, continued training and practice, as well as daily use would make him better still, but I thought it could only be marginal.

Of course I didn’t – take him up to bed, I mean. The desire was there, but so was my lust at watching those three males, all now well on the way to perfection in the human male – at least as we saw it. Their muscles were fine and smooth. All but the tiny layer of subcutaneous fat necessary to smooth their finely-honed muscles was gone, leaving physiques that were nigh on perfect, at least to our eyes.

And there was something else as well that made them look so fabulous. Their cocks! Each one of them was hard and quivering almost from the moment they first applied their muscles to the task, right up to the time I called a halt. This had become normal during many of their exercise sessions. With Bobby of course, his libido had been fuelled by his masochism but I don’t think the others had become nearly as much affected by that phenomenon as he was. A little, I think. Their acceptance of their slavery was predicated on at least a degree of masochism, but Bobby had it in spades and yet their erections were equally as powerful and as long-lasting as his.

Whatever the reason, it added immeasurably to the spectacle of their magnificent bodies labouring at the really heavy labour in pulling the oars. And remember, this was all of their own volition. We weren’t whipping them to it. By now, I think the two newer boys gloried in punishing their bodies as much as we girls and Bobby did; that much was evident from the extreme effort they were putting into this labour.

They pulled hard – and continued to do so until the oar handles were up to their noses, at which point of course, they were now lying supine. Then the momentum of the massive stone wheel out in front of them reversed the motion and they now began to push the handles away from their faces, down over their sharply defined chests, down further over the rippled lumps of muscle in their bellies; down over their rigid cocks and large hairless balls; and then further down still over the shapely quadriceps muscles in their thighs so that they were now bent double, their faces down over their knees; only to begin the cycle all over again.

What a sight! One Caucasian, one Negro and one Asian naked male, all slaves (at least for the moment) and all perfect examples of the handsome, athletic male of the species and all now sweating hard, straining even harder – and ours! All ours.

This room became a favourite for us all and we girls usually joined the boys for an hour or two on the oars – and delighted in it, both from the nature of the exercise but also because of the libidinous quality of it. And we took to doing so naked. By now we were almost sure the other two boys were genuine but in any case, it was another test. We all watched them both carefully for any sign that they were shamming but they seemed fair dinkum (as we Aussies term it).

 

And so finally Geraldine decided they were for real and we then removed the masks.

Now they could see us in detail and just as Bobby’s transformation had astonished us, so now did those of these two boys. Both dropped to their knees, just about in unison and stared up at his respective mistress in adoration.

Of course this might have been expected. They weren’t blind. They could tell us apart alright and over the last couple of weeks, Geraldine had been concentrating on Sunti and Phoebe on Anton, and so each of the pair of them had come to think of my friends as ‘his’ mistress.

Bobby and I left them then so that Phoebe and Anton, and Geraldine and Sunti could go to my friends’ rooms and properly get to know one another and allow them room to make personal judgements of each other in private between themselves.

Even Bobby now thought the six of us were going to make a good team and so now he again raised the question about our future. I still hadn’t told him much about me and particularly my fortune – or, for that matter, those of my friends, either.

“The thing is, Angie, what do we do now? I have gathered that you three set out to find men who might be suitable for you and then mould them into your image of the perfect husband. You have now done this so what happens now?”

I grinned back at him. “Well you have it half right, Bobby. We did consider finding and training men to be our husbands but then decided we would be having so much fun we would do it for other women. And then we fell in love with you as we trained you.

“Why can’t we go on and train other men to be just as good? We could do as we did with you three, but lately I have been wondering about taking chauvinistic, abusive or lazy husbands and turn them into paragons of attentive, caring spouses and in the process, turn their bodies into something they can be proud of. What d’you think?”

He stared at me for a few seconds but then his face broke into a smile. “If you want my true feelings, I believe the first course is fraught with danger. Okay, you were lucky with us but if one of us had got free and brought the police up here, your lives would have been ruined.

“But the other idea is great. You would have to secure the consent of the male concerned but I think if you chose your mark well – find something his wife has over him, perhaps – we could then proceed more or less as you did with Sunti, Anton and me.”

He paused for a moment then looked at me again. “Angie, there’s another thing I have been wondering about?”

“What is it?”

“I know this place is new. It is also obviously remote and it is purpose-built for your operation… What I have been wondering is what the three of you do in real life; where you live; your friends, family – and everything else about you.

“I know I love you regardless of all that and while I will follow you in anything you decide for me, I just can’t believe this is the whole you?”

I laughed. “No, of course it isn’t, silly boy and I will be taking you to my real home soon and there you will have all the answers you want. In fact, we are only staying here now so that the other two can be sure of their men. Once that is decided, we will be closing up this camp for a while and moving back to Brisbane where we will be married.

“What I was talking about was later on and in fact perhaps we won’t even bother. You and I have a great deal to talk about and so do Phoebe and Anton, and Geraldine and Sunti.”

“Well I am an architect and I believe have the makings of becoming a good one. I would hope to be able to support you in the way you are accustomed to but again I say, that will be up to you.”

I left that question, still not wishing to tell him of my enormous wealth, not because I thought he might covet it, but because it might damage our now wonderful relationship. He was content with what I had said however and then moved on to another idea he had come up with: the automatic paddling machine!