Untitled
by SweetMaddness and MaryNacieGirl

If the boot to his stomach hadn't been enough to wake him, the voice shouting Arabic in his ear would do the job. Brian rubbed his eyes with dirty knuckles, moaning as he remembered the chain linking his slender wrists together. He looked up at the guard that was barking uncomprehensable orders to him and, after a little more probing, realized he was meant to stand up.
The other captives stared at Brian blankly as he was led through the stone room and out the only door. He was pushed down a grey corridor that seemed to stretch on forever. He tried to shuffle along at a pace that wouldn't anger the guard, his shackles making the task difficult. 'How the fuck did this happen?' he asked himself for the 100th time. The shows in Egypt were supposed to be a breeze. They had landed in Alexandria, were heading down to Cairo, and then would fly out from there. But the driver had gotten lost somewhere in between. The tour bus started roaming down nameless streets in forgotten areas until finally it just went dead. Brian had been on the broken down bus with his bandmates, complaining about the heat and fighting over who got the last twinkie, when the group of armed men stormed on board and dragged them away.
At first Brian thought it had been the police, but these guys didn't dress like members of law enforcement. There had been no trial, no translator called in to explain the situation and no lawyer contacted. Instead, Brian had been seperated from his friends and thrown into a tiny room full of men speaking languages he couldn't understand. He was given a minimal amount of food and water but other than that was ignored. This was the first time he'd been taken out of the cell that had been his home for so many hours and he was more than a little worried as to what he'd find at the end of this hallway. The only other prisoners to be taken out never returned.
A door was thrown open and Brian's hands went to his eyes trying to shut out the piercing light. He stumbled forward, blinking back tears and willing his eyes to focus. He was standing before a man, at least six feet tall, and the epitomi of aristicratic beauty. He had the tight skin and high cheek bones of a pharoh framed by pitch black hair that flowed over his narrow shoulders and down his skinny back. Taking a few steps forward, his long fingers, encased in leather gloves, came to rest on Brian's cheek. He flinched, only to be grabbed firmer, his face being pulled to the side as if being inspected. The hand roamed over his small chest, following the curve of bones and muscle, and brushing firmly over his crotch. He was grabbed by the shoulders and forced to turn around, the actions repeated on other side as the strange man let out a grunt of approval.
An unintelligable conversation was held between him and the gaurd that had led Brian here. A wallet was produced and a large sum of money exchanged hands. The tall Egyptian left the room with the casual air of someone who had just purchased a new living room sofa, motioning for the guard to bring his new possession along. Brian tried to struggle but a few slaps reminded him it was useless. He let the tears slide down his face, not even caring how he must look like that. He was put in the back of a van, his cuffs attached to a bolt in the floor to keep him still. With a loud roar of the engine, Brian was taken away to start his new life.

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The journey seemed to take forever, and the road got bumpier as they drove further. He could just about see the city lights receding into the distance through the partially blacked out back windows of the van. With every jolt in the road, his metal bindings cut further into his limbs, and he let out a quiet whimper with each shot of pain.
Opposite him sat a solitary guard, his eyes fixed on Brian the whole time. It wasn't a threatening look, though the rifle slung over his shoulder and poised to fire at Brian's chest did not make the guard seem too friendly. No, the look was more one of... Brian could only think envy.
The rhythmic jolting of the road beneath them and the stresses of the day's events eased Brian into a fitful sleep. Visions played through his mind of the terror he had felt when the men had stormed the coach, and the anguish of being physically torn away from the embrace of his two band mates. The last he remembered of them was a stifled cry from Steve as he'd foolishly tried to wrestle Brian back from the armed man who was dragging him away, and ended up with a rifle butt in his face. He saw images of Stefan being held by two masked men, struggling furiously and screaming Brian's name.
He was brought back to reality by the firm hand of the guard, who was bundling him out of the van's rear doors and into a courtyard. They were met by two more men, who came forward and relieved Brian of his shackles, before leading him inside a whitewashed building. He was taken through a series of beautiful, ornate rooms, the walls of which were bedecked with cut out carvings. The rooms were punctuated by exotic displays of beautiful, sweet-smelling lilies.
Eventually they came to what was obviously a bathroom. The bath was like no other Brian had seen. It was sunk into the floor and was the size of a small swimming pool. Flowers gilded its surface and the most intoxicating aroma of patchouli and geranium filled the air as steam from the scented water wafted through the atmosphere. Brian looked around at the two men who had guided him here. They bore a striking resemblance to him, he noticed, except that their skin was much darker, and their eyes brown, not the unique blend of green, grey and blue that Brian possessed. In fact they were very attractive in a narcissistic sort of fashion.
Now they were removing his clothes deftly, and casting them into a heap on the floor, their noses wrinkling at the dirt and sweat that the clothes had gathered over the past, stressful, 24 hours. Brian now stood naked and the two men stood back and looked at him. Brian looked from one to the other of them. They were almost identical. Maybe they were twins? Nice.
They each took an arm and led Brian to the edge of the bath, and all three climbed carefully down the marble steps into the pool below, which stood about three feet deep. It felt heavenly to have the warm, scented water lap against his tired and bruised skin. It felt even better when the two beautiful, dark men - whose silk robes now clung to their bodies, showing every curve of their small, perfect bodies - began to wash Brian's skin, using sea sponges and a cleansing, perfumed oil that smelt of rose petals.
Brian closed his eyes and savoured the moment. He stifled a gasp as one of the men cleaned his privates, cupping him and rubbing ever so gently. He felt himself harden and the man hesitated slightly before continuing the task in hand. Brian squinted through his half-closed lids and noticed the two men exchange a nervous look. Too soon, the bath was over, and he was led up the steps again. He was given an enormous, fluffy white towel. Again, the men did all the work, drying him off quickly.
Just as Brian thought it could get no better, one of the men produced a bottle of oil, distributed some to his "brother" and more onto his own palms. Then they proceeded to slick it over every inch of Brian's willing body, massaging it in with deft, expert fingers. Brian moaned with delight, and reached out for one of the men's hands. He placed it firmly on his erect cock and rubbed it up and down. But the man hurriedly withdrew his hand from Brian's grasp and took a step back, head bowed.
"It's ok," Brian whispered, "I want it."
The man shook his head, a look of terror on his face. The other man put away the oil and gave his companion a reproving glance. Then he took hold of Brian's arm and led him to a bedroom that adjoined the room where they had bathed. The second man scuttled behind them, eyes still firmly fixed to the floor.
There they left him, naked and aroused, but incredibly tired. He collapsed onto the low bed, which was adorned with deep pink satin bedcovers. Not even the horrors of the previous day entered his mind as exhaustion took hold and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Brian awoke to the sound of a muezzin calling to prayer outside. A chink of light broke through the heavy, silk-embroidered curtains at the window. He was lying on the bed in the small, ornate room. This situation was certainly better than he had hoped for, though his wrists and ankles still ached. He looked down at them and saw that red sores marked where the shackles had been. Brian noticed that a set of clothes was draped over an elegant arched chair - a silky set of drawstring pants and a loose jacket, both a pale shade of creamy pink.
He lay there for what seemed like a few minutes but was actually more like an hour, thinking about his situation and worrying about his friends and where they had been taken. Eventually, he got up slowly and went to put on the clothing. It felt so comfortable, cool and light next to his still fragrant skin. He sloped across to the full-length window and looked outside. The room overlooked the courtyard into which they'd entered this place last night. He tried the catches but the windows would not budge. He went next to the door at the other side of the room. It too was locked.
Frustrated, Brian went back to the bed and sat down, head in hands, pushing back the long wisps of black hair from his face.
The sound of a key turning in the lock brought Brian back to the present. The two men from the previous night entered the room. They took Brian's arms and sat him in the chair where he had found the satin clothes.
He saw they were holding something in their hands; one had a mirror, and the other carried a silk purse, from which he took a pot of cream. He smoothed a thin layer of the cream onto Brian's flawless complexion, replaced the pot and produced a second from the purse, along with a large brush. He opened the pot, which was full of a shimmering pink/gold powder, and proceeded to dust it all over Brian's face.
Next came a pot of rouge, which was brushed lightly over the high, angular cheekbones that framed Brian's face. The second man then applied a thick line of black kohl across Brian's eyelids, flicking it out at the sides, Cleopatra-style, and then ringed the bottom of his eyes with a thinner black line.
Finally the first man brushed cake mascara through their small model's long, lush eyelashes, and used the same brush to coax Brian's eyebrows into a perfect shape.
Satisfied, the men took a step back to review their work. They showed Brian his face in the handheld mirror. They'd done a fantastic job. If he ever got out of this alive, his make-up artist back in London was fired.
But the men weren't finished yet, as they got yet another pot from the silk purse, this one full of sweet oil, which they smoothed over Brian's raven hair, making it glisten in the sunlight.
A sound came from outside the room, and Brian stood up from the chair as the door was unlocked and the graceful, aristocratic man with the face of a Pharaoh glided in. Swishing his expensive robes aside, the man put his hands on his slim hips and looked at the sight before him; this small, pale, pretty man he had found in the slave auctions of Cairo. Now all cleaned up and looking like the most beautiful vision he had ever seen.

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The man smiled and said something in Arabic. Brian just stared at him, confused, and took a step back. The statement was repeated but Brian just turned his head away, trying not to cry as he felt how lost and alone he really was here. The man was still talking, although it wasn't Arabic this time. It didn't matter, Brian still didn't have a fucking clue what he was saying. A few moments passed like this until Brian heard something he recognized: French. He looked up at the strange man, his mind trying desperately to translate the words. The Egyptian smiled and repeated himself, this time much slower.
It was broken French, showing the man wasn't a fluent speaker. Neither was Brian which made this even harder but he was able to grasp the gist of what he was saying. "This is my home. You are my property." He shuddered hearing that and sunk down on the bed.
"Where are my friends?" Brian asked softly, using the one language that they both knew.
The man looked puzzled for a moment, like he was trying to figure out who Brian was speaking of. In the end he just shrugged his shoulders and moved to sit in the chair. "You have no friends. You have no rights. I am your life from this day forth. Serve me well and you will be happy. Anger me and I shall be forced to teach you respect. Now come here."
Brian sniffed loudly but didn't cry, he refused to shed tears in front of this man. He crossed the short distance between him and his master and stood passively, trying to wipe all emotion from his face.
"I am Naeem," the man said, reaching out to stroke Brian's bare chest. "And you?"
He considered not telling him, keeping it a secret so he could feel he hadn't completely given himself over to slavery. But the flash of anger in Naeem's eyes made him shiver and he feared what methods may be used in 'teaching him respect.' He mumbled his name, his eyes falling shut as he tried to get used to the strange hands that were rolling his nipples back and forth.
Naeem nodded, a small smile stretching across his lips. He stood and slipped out of his robe, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. Brian had to crane his head back to see into the face that was towering over him. Thin hands grabbed his shoulders and slid the jacket of quickly before turning him around and pushing him toward the bed. Brian stumbled on top of it, rolling onto his back and trying to stop his pants from being ripped down his legs, but he was too slow.
A long chord dangled on the wall behind the bed. Naeem pulled it and soft chimes sounded. One of the twins scurried in carrying a small pot which he set on the dresser. He quickly and neatly removed Naeem's clothing then opened the jar and scooped out a handful of thick oil that smelled like lilac. Kneeling in front of Naeem, his skilled hands quickly had the Egyptian hard and well lubricated.
He stayed in that same position, kneeling beside the bed with his head down, and Naeem climbed onto the mattress and forced Brian's legs apart. It hurt for a moment, the fear and humiliation making Brian resist. But he was far from virginal and the oil made it a comfortable ride. He tried to ask Naeem to wear a condom but couldn't remember the French word for it so instead he just laid back and hoped he was clean.
Naeem was a skilled lover and it wasn't long before Brian was moaning beneath him. Something was said in Arabic and he felt a pressure around his cock. Opening his eyes, he saw the twin had reached onto the bed and was masturbating Brian with an expert touch. Brian abandoned himself to the sensations, throwing his head back and thrusting to meet his master's hips.
Brian's nipples were pinched hard and he felt Naeem cum in his ass. He was still thrusting himself into the other slaves tight fist when, without warning, all sensation stopped; the hands left and body lifted from his skin and Brian was left alone on the bed.
He opened his eyes to see Naeem standing before the kneeling boy, his cock being cleaned by his soft mouth. Moaning softly, Brian grabbed his own shaft and started pumping only to feel the back of the Egyptian's hand crash onto his cheek. "Not until you earn it," he said sternly before turning and leaving the room, his young slave grabbing his clothing and following at his heels.
Brian laid in stunned silence, his mind trying to digest all that had just happened as his hand hovered over his still hard cock, unsure of whether or not to touch it. The door opened again a few minutes later and the slave boy entered. Brian thought it may be the other twin this time, his eyes were a bit more tilted than his brother's were. He was carrying a large, ceramic bowl and two small towels draped over his shoulder. Setting them down, he dipped the first towel into the warm water and used it to gently clean the remnants of sex from the foreigner's body.
Brian watched him a moment, trying to make eye contact but the boy kept his head bowed to his task. Taking his cock in hand again, Brian gave it a slow stroke. This made the slave jump and he hurried to pry Brian's hand away, shaking his head firmly. Brian tried again with the same reaction, a look of terror in the boy's face at the act of defiance he was witnessing.
The cleaning was finished and the bowl taken away, replaced by a tray of food. It had a pitcher of wine, fruit and cheeses and the most mouth watering pastries Brian had ever seen. He tried one of the chocolate dipped strawberries and moaned in delight, feeling his cock twitch in heightened arousal. Left alone in the elegant room, he stared at the ceiling as he ate the rich treats. He had to remind himself constantly not to masturbate. He didn't know what punishment would await him if he did, but from the look on the slave's face he didn't think he wanted to find out. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, hoping his erection would be gone when he awake. He didn't know what game Naeem was playing or how he could be so cruel in denying another man pleasure, but he did know that right now he'd do anything he was asked if it meant he'd be allowed to cum.

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Brian stirred at the sound of the twins entering his room. It was morning, and he had slept soundly since the events of the previous afternoon. The twins were dressed head to foot in black robes. Only their eyes were visible beneath their headdresses. One of them handed a similar outfit to Brian, who put it on carefully. Then all three went out into the courtyard. The white painted walls reflected the glare of the hot morning sun. Brian missed his sunglasses, an almost permanent feature of his face when outdoors, whether they be used to hide from the sun, hungry fans or hangovers.
He was handed a large pottery urn. One of the twins held a wicker basket, which he hoisted onto his delicate yet brawny shoulder. The other carried a massive bag on his back. They set off out of the courtyard and into the dusty street beyond. Brian walked gingerly. Regular pedicures had softened his feet. He wasn’t used to walking barefoot and every tiny pebble seemed to cut into his soles. The twins were obviously immune, their tiny feet like pads of leather against the harsh terrain as they ambled gracefully down the road.
After a hundred feet or so, they entered a parade of brightly coloured market stalls. Pungent aromas filled the air, and the unintelligible heckles of the traders rang out. Brian had never felt so completely and utterly alone in his whole life. He bit his lip as he stood upon another sharp stone and looked down to see blood on the ground where he had just tread. His eyes were welling with tears. All he could think about was cuddling in close to Stefan and Steve on the plush sofas at the back of their luxurious tour bus, drunk on Jack Daniels and high on the buzz from a show.
The street was crowded with others dressed like them, only their eyes showing. They carried an assortment of containers ready for the market produce. Virtually all of the other servants seemed to be female.
One of the twins tugged on Brian’s arm fiercely and gave him a harsh stare, pulling him to a stall where assorted fruits and vegetables were displayed. The second twin was already there, pointing at the items he wanted. The basket on his shoulder was soon weighed down with produce. Next they visited a stall that sold every spice imaginable. They bought a selection of these, which were placed in the bag on the twin’s back. They paid the stallholder with a selection of heavy coins.
Finally, they came to a stall that consisted of many massive terracotta urns, larger even than the one Brian carried (and which was feeling so heavy in his arms now). The urns contained cooking oils. One of Brian’s two companions pointed at an urn. The stallholder nodded and looked at Brian expectantly. He laughed and barked something that was obviously supposed to be funny. The twin who carried the bag on his back retorted quickly without a hint of humour, silencing the trader, then came over to Brian, helping him place the urn on the sandy ground next to the other, larger pot. The stallholder decanted some of the oil into Brian’s urn, and the twin paid him. They exchanged a nod and then both looked at Brian. He went to pick up the pot again. Fuck! It was so heavy now: he could barely budge it. The trader started to laugh again but soon stopped when the twins both looked at him, solemn frowns on their faces.
The twin with the bag of spices removed it from his back and gently slid the straps over Brian’s shoulders. He patted it, then smiled weakly at Brian, before easily lifting the urn of oil into the air and onto his left shoulder. Brian felt more than a little useless. He’d always considered himself to be quite strong for such a small guy, but the jobs he was being asked to do here seemed to use muscles he’d never needed before.
As they walked back along the street, the straps on his shoulders began to slip. He cursed to himself quietly, god he couldn’t even do this job right. His feet were killing him, being torn apart on the rough ground. He leant forward slightly to adjust the bag on his back and distribute the weight more evenly, but as he stood up again, his left arm flailed out and caught a pot being carried by a tall black-clad woman passing the other way.
“Jävla!” he heard the woman mutter, as she knelt down to pick up the container, the contents of which were now scattered forlornly on the street. Brian opened his mouth to say sorry, but one of the twins quickly clapped a hand to the foreigner’s mouth before he uttered anything. The other twin produced the purse of coins and spoke hurriedly to the woman’s companion, then paid her what seemed to be compensation. The women nodded, seemingly satisfied with the deal.
She pulled up the first woman by the shoulder and looked at her disdainfully. Brian wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but one of the twins still held him back, so instead, he tried to intimate what he meant by eye contact, as the tall, elegant figure stood up and turned towards Brian and his two companions.
Brian’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes met those of the tall lady. She wasn’t a lady at all.
“Stef!” Brian blurted out, and Stefan’s eyes widened in sheer joy as he looked lovingly at Brian from beneath the robes. Stefan reached out to touch Brian and for the briefest of moments his hand grasped Brian’s forearm tightly. But then the twins grabbed Brian and pulled him down the street, away from the market and back towards the palace. For the second time in three days, Brian was being physically wrenched away from his lover. Their gaze was locked firmly, adoringly - but hopelessly, until they lost sight of each other through the bustling crowd. Brian was sobbing uncontrollably, eliciting odd looks from the other slaves on the street.
Back at the palace courtyard, they deposited their purchases at the kitchen doors, where several servants scurried around, taking the goods inside. Then Brian and the twins went inside, to the large bathroom. Brian was still shaking, and tears tumbled down his cheeks. He didn’t quite know what the tears were for: sadness at being pulled away from Stefan, or joy at the knowledge that his baby was still alive.
Once in the room, the twins looked at each other and then at Brian. They smiled and nodded. One by one, they removed their black robes, revealing perfect, glistening caramel skin underneath. Soon they had also rid themselves of their loincloths, and were standing there, naked and beautiful. They eyed Brian wickedly, and attacked him voraciously, pulling off his robes and then forcing him into the fragrant water.
The twins jumped in after him. Brian felt a pair of soft hands glide up his calves and onto his thighs, and one twin burst out of the pool in front of him, spraying water out of his mouth. The other appeared from under the water behind Brian, running his hands up the small of Brian’s back and firmly pushing the skin taught all the way up the spine and to the neck. His hands then ran across the crook of Brian’s narrow shoulders, coming to rest around the tops of his tired arms. Brian could feel the pressure of the man’s cock pushing into him, probing until it found an opening. When it did so, it was ploughed in with such force that Brian winced in pain, but soon the thrusting became regular and Brian could feel himself softening inside.
The other twin took Brian’s cock in his mouth deftly, his hands wrapped around the back of Brian’s upper thighs, forefingers gently nestling in the small fold of flesh between thigh and ass. He tugged Brian forwards with every thrust of his mouth, every flick of his tongue, whilst his brother rammed into Brian from behind.
Brian was lost in waves of ecstasy, pleasure dripped from every pore of his body as the heady scented steam drifted in his nostrils. His moans grew heavier. The twin behind him grunted louder, getting ever closer to climax. Brian was throbbing; he felt the warm sensations beginning to spread in his rear end like a million needles dragging out from the central point of pleasure, as the cock massaged him deeply. Up front, he was welling up, ready to burst into the beautiful man’s mouth.
“OH!” Brian closed his eyes tightly, he had never felt such an intense combination of feelings, he thrust forward into the one mans mouth and pushed back hard against the other’s cock.
Suddenly a deafening roar filled the room.
Brian once again felt the sensations hang on a knife-edge and slowly dissipate as the twins dissolved back into the water and he saw the forbidding figure of Naeem silhouetted in the doorway: a look of sheer hell on his face. Shedding his robes violently, he marched down the marble steps into the water. He flung out his hand, striking one of the twins full on the jaw and sending him crashing into the water unconscious. Bubbles rose from where the young man lay still on the bed of the pool.
The other twin tried in vain to scurry out of the other side, his legs flailing as he pushed himself up onto the edge. But he was dragged back in by Naeem, who slapped him back and forth on the face, then cast him through the air like a rag doll. As he landed, his head smacked off the side of the bath and a fearful crack rang around the room.
Naeem then turned to Brian, limp now and shaking before the wrath of his master, who was trudging menacingly towards him through the water. The last thing Brian saw was the massive, bony hand as it careered towards his terrified face.

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It had been over a week since Brian's last orgasm. He hadn't had one since before he came here, not since the night he and Stefan had taken to bed the runaway who'd sneaked on board the tour bus after their last gig. Naeem had been beyond angry to find him with the twins. He'd gone easier on Brian since he was new and didn't know the rules as well but that still hadn't spared him from a few blows with the cane. The marks were gone by now but sometimes he thought he could still feel them.
The door banged open and he hurried out of bed, fidgeting in the middle of the room as Naeem walked a slow circle around him. He felt the hand on his neck, reaching around to cup his chin and pull him back against the tall, strong man behind him. Brian's breath became ragged and he cursed his body for betraying him again. No matter how frightened he was of his master, no matter how much he hated and wanted to get away from him, he couldn't help but get excited at his touch. He was, by nature, a sexual being and there was now one man in complete control of his body. One man who could bring him release.
Naeem moved away and Brian heard a treacherous whimper come from his own throat at the loss of contact. He looked over his shoulder, watching as he moved by the bed and stood there. Brian knew what to do. He gently removed Naeem's clothing, laying them in a perfectly folded pile at the foot of the bed. Next came the pot of lubricant which he massaged into Naeem with a careful hand.
Shedding his own clothing, Brian laid down on his back but got a shake of the head. He quickly rolled onto his knees and felt Naeem crawl up behind him. There was no pain this time, just deep sense of fullness as he slipped inside. Brian bit his bottom lip to try and stifle his moans as he started pulling himself back and forth, clamping down rhythmically in the way he knew Naeem liked and was rewarded with a soft groan from the man behind him.
Brian closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He'd always considered himself a compassionate lover but never before had he been this focused on another person's pleasure. His hips bounced back and forth and he smiled as the groans from Naeem grew louder. His hand was grasped and placed on top of his own swollen cock. With a sigh, Brian began to masturbate. 'Damn tease,' he thought to himself.
It wasn't long before Naeem was slamming into him harder and Brian started feeling a familiar tingling. "Naeem? I.. I'm gonna..." he stammered out, knowing it was smarter to tell it was time for him to stop than to masturbate to orgasm and get reprimanded later.
Long fingers tangled into his hair as Naeem's other hand stroked softly up and down Brian's side. He leaned over, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spot behind his ear. "You've earned it," he whispered.
Brian didn't think he'd ever stop shuddering or screaming as he came harder than he could ever remember. Tears slipped from his eyes and onto the silk pillow cases beneath him. Naeem's orgasm was barely even noticed as Brian grew weak and fell to the bed.
Naeem's lips pressed to Brian's neck and made a soft journey down his spine. He lifted his head to look back at him, still crying softly with an impossibly bright smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, repeating it as many times as he could as he grabbed Naeem's hand and kissed his palm.
"You serve me well, my little wild flower. Pleasure is always returned if it is deserved. Behave always and you will enjoy your life here."
Brian nodded, his eyes shining brightly and he leaned up to kiss Naeem's cheek. The Egyptian stroked his hair lovingly before getting off the bed. "Rest now. I will send Amun in to clean you up."
He rolled onto his back and watched as Naeem left the room, a wistful smile on his face. The twin with the beautiful tilted eyes scurried in with his tray and set it down beside the bed. They'd worked out a ritual to how this went. First, he lit a cigarette and placed it between Brian's lips. Then he poured him a glass of wine. As Brian drank and smoked, the slaves warm hands would clean him with a damp towel and rub him down with scented oil.
As Brian laid in post orgasmic bliss, a cigarette dangling from one hand, a glass of fine wine in the other, and a lovely boy carefully washing down his privates, he let a slow hum vibrate in his chest as he stared at the ceiling. "I suppose life could be worse," he said with a smile.

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It was their favorite game. Brian was standing in-between the kneeling twins. Amun was in front sucking Brian's cock while his brother, Gyasi, was behind him with his small tongue darting in and out of Brian's asshole. Naeem was stretched out on a nearby futon watching the show. He'd already came twice in Brian's mouth and now it was his turn for pleasure. It was a simple game, the actions of the twins would continue as long as Brian remained standing and if he stayed upright long enough then he'd get to cum. It was hard to accomplish with so many wonderful sensations making his legs wobble.
Blowing Naeem a kiss, he threw his head back and started spurting into Amun's mouth. His knees gave out shortly after and he tumbled to the floor. He tsked himself softly, he was hoping to make it to a second orgasm this time but at the moment one was plenty. Trying to get up, he fell back down with a giggle and decided he'd rather just lay there smiling goofily at the ceiling. Naeem's hands slid underneath him, lifting up without effort. Brian threw his arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest, sucking lightly one of his small nipples.
In the past few weeks Brian had come to accept and even enjoy his new master. His body was becoming as well trained as the greatest sexual athlete and he found joy in seeing the bigger man squirm beneath him. He knew that good service would always be returned, and in more ways then just great sex. He ate only the best foods and drank the best liquors. Aside from the occasional trips to the market, he didn't have to lift a finger to help in domesticities, not even to bathe himself. If he wanted new clothing, the tailor was sent for. If he had a craving for baklava a plate would be sitting in front of him in minutes. He'd even managed to get Naeem to hunt down a nice supply of weed for him once he'd been able to remember the French word for it so he could ask.
Brian was laid in the bed and as Gyasi started washing him, Naeem hovered near by with a soft smile on his face. "I've a present for you, little rose bud."
He smiled at the pet name, Naeem always liked referring to him as different flowers, and his ears perked up at the word 'present'. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
Naeem waited until he was dressed and then sat in the chair, pulling Brian onto his lap. "I've bought you a slave."
"What do you mean?"
Naeem petted his hair, nibbling softly the tender flesh of his neck. "Someone to bathe you, dress you, feed you. Whatever your heart desires."
"I thought that's what they did," Brian said, looking back at the twins.
Naeem laughed softly at his nievity. "They are just house slaves. They serve everyone. The one I have for you is different. He is just for YOU. He will sleep at the foot of your bed, always available for your beck and call. His one duty will be serving you, since you've done so well in serving me. And since you've said lately how homesick you are, I have had the convenience of finding one who speaks your native language. I don't think he's from the same region as you were, his accent is different, but he is your race and speaks your tongue. Does this make you happy?" Brian was beaming, covering Naeem's face in soft kisses. "Very happy!" He was practically bouncing. It'd be such a relief to speak English again, to be able to hold a conversation that didn't involve stuttering and translating.
"Good," Naeem said, his hand reaching down to squeeze Brian's soft cock through his light satin pants. "Just remember that THIS belongs to me. It's not to do anything without my permission."
"Oh course not, baby," he said with a sexy pout.
Naeem said something to the twins and they scurried out of the room. There was a small knock a few moments later and Naeem yelled for them to enter. They were guiding along a tall man, fresh from a bath and in blue silk robes. Brian squealed when he saw him and bounded off of Naeem's lap.
"Stefan!" he shouted, running to him and hopping up on tiptoe, his arms wrapping tightly around his friends neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stefan put his arms around Brian, and held him tightly to his chest, so that the smaller man’s feet dangled a good six inches from the floor. Naeem raised a quizzical eyebrow and grunted. Brian suddenly realised the error that he was making and changed his demeanour, kicking Stefan hard on the shin, so that the Swede released his grasp and dropped Brian back to the floor.
“Br-,” Stefan wasn’t allowed to finish the word as the back of Brian’s hand smacked him sharply.
“That is not the way a slave is expected to greet his master,” Brian growled in perfect French. Then he turned to Naeem. “I tried to greet him in the traditional British manner and he mistook it for affection. He must be from a very strange place. I can see I will have to teach him sternly.” He turned back to Stefan, whose face displayed a mixture of hurt, anger and bewilderment. Brian winked, so that only Stefan could see, and continued in his very convincing harsh tones. “Yes,” he said, stifling a giggle that would have given the game away, “VERY sternly indeed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the heavy wooden door to the boudoir closed behind them, Brian and Stefan hugged each other tighter than either thought possible; Stefan raked his long fingers through Brian’s silky black hair and pulled him to his chest. Brian kissed the flesh exposed by Stefan’s gaping robes fervently, causing Stefan to moan with delight. “Shh!” Brian said, putting a finger to his lips and nodding towards the door, “We mustn’t arouse suspicion.”
“But I am your slave,” Stefan smiled wickedly. You can get me to do anything you want me to.  Who’d have thought that all of those fantasies we lived out in the past would become a reality?”

Brian pulled away from Stefan and looked up into his eyes. He shook his head and explained the ‘House Rules’.
Stefan looked devastated. “You mean…you…we…we can’t …no…not allowed…no…can’t…won’t -,”

Brian silenced the confused mutterings with a kiss, as he stood up on tiptoes and pulled Stefan’s head down so that their lips could lock. It had been over a month since their last kiss. It felt like an eternity.  Their tongues swirled and pondered each other feverishly. Finally their lips separated, though Brian continued to place butterfly kisses all over Stefan’s mouth, face and neck between words as he spoke, “Well…Stef…I wouldn’t go as far… as to say…we WON’T… I mean…as long as we’re…quiet… no-one need know a thing.”
With that, they embraced again, and Brian used all of his weight to throw Stefan onto the silken bed.

Brian pounced on top of Stefan and pulled open the blue silk top that was draped over Stef’s chest. He sat astride the tall, dark godlike figure; his hands running smoothly up the freshly oiled chest from navel to collarbone, inhaling the rosy aroma. He lifted his weight just enough to allow the removal of Stefan’s blue baggy pants, which were cast towards the window.

Stefan pushed Brian’s light, white satin top open and slid it off his shoulders. Sitting up slightly, he craned his neck to plant kisses on the soft flesh he’d exposed. “Mmm,” he murmured, “Getting quite a tan I see.” Brian was a sun-worshipper and had made the most of his stay in this hot climate…his skin now glistened a light shade of honey.

Stefan pushed his hands under his the jacket collar, which was now resting across Brian’s bronzed chest, and then he trailed his fingers down the taut body. When his hands reached Brian’s pants, he swiftly untied the knotted cord that held them up, and pushed them off the small curved hips. Brian eased out of the pants and kicked them aside. He took a deep breath. What they were doing was wrong. If anyone were to find them in this position, he didn’t dare imagine the consequences for himself and for Stef. But he couldn’t resist his tall lover, lying there underneath him, gazing up into his face.

Brian couldn’t wait any longer – he reached for the pot by the bedside, and smothered his cock in the sweet substance. He placed his index finger to his lips and hushed Stefan, who was beginning to groan in anticipation of what was to follow. To be honest, Brian wasn’t sure if he would be able to stay silent during this, but he had to try.

He entered in one swift move and rocked back and forth, biting his lip and breathing silently, though his intakes were ragged. Stefan was really struggling to stay silent. He turned his head left then right, closed his eyes and threw his head back, hitting it gently on the pillow. Then he looked up. They fixed their stare on each other, marvelling at the pleasure in the other’s half-closed eyes.
It was getting harder to breathe, hoarse, whispered sighs escaping now and then. Stefan pulled Brian’s hand towards him and kissed it hard, then bit down as he came, so as not to make a noise. . Brian tossed his head back and let out a long, strained breath as he spilled into Stefan.

As he pulled out, Brian realised the enormity and seriousness of what they had just done, but he was tired and all he could think about was curling up with his lover.  Stefan was already looking dosed, as they silently entwined their bodies and drifted off to sleep.


They slept only lightly and not for long. Brian was happier than he had been for days, but thoughts played on his mind. Something wasn’t right. He woke up with a start and sat bolt upright as he realised what that something was. Stef sensed what was on Brian’s mind. He sat up behind Brian and snaked his arms around his partner, pulling him in close to his body.

“He didn’t make it, baby,”

Brian’s shoulders began to shake as he crumbled into tears, leaning his weight into his lover. He couldn’t even cry properly, as he stifled the sobs as much as he could so as not to disturb anyone.

“What happened?”

“He was a stupid fuck, that is what happened. And it got him killed. Remember how he tried to stop them taking you? Well he did the same for me too, and wound up with a bullet in his head.”

Brian collapsed in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably, yet silently, his small form shaking on the bed. Stefan stroked Brian’s back and leant down to cradle him in his arms.

The door opened. Brian and Stefan turned round to see Amun walk in. He suddenly stopped as he saw the two naked men on the bed. He dropped the tray of food he was carrying and clamped his hand over his mouth to block out the gasp that he let out. Amun quickly closed the door behind him and stood against it, shaking. Brian couldn’t work out the expression in the dark man’s eyes. Was it one of hurt? Amun spun round and hurried out of the door.

“Oh shit!” exclaimed Stef, “Now we’re gonna get it.”

But when the door opened again it was Amun who scurried in once more, this time carrying a bowl of water and cleansing oil. He offered the things to the two foreigners before taking up his position at the closed door once again. “Merci,” Brian said with all his heart.

They got cleaned up just in time, for no sooner had they put on their clothes than Naeem entered the room. He looked at the scattered contents of the tray on the floor, and then looked at Amun. He raised his hand but Stefan shouted out “No!” Naeem spun round, a look of anger burning in his eyes. “It was my fault,” Stefan said, eyes facing the floor, “Please don’t punish him.”

Naeem signalled for Amun to leave the room, which he did at a hurried pace. Then Naeem pointed to the food on the floor. “Well?” he thundered, “Don’t you think you had better clean it up?” As Stefan got to work, Naeem slunk towards Brian, who was stood by the bed. “An incompetent, clumsy slave I seem to have found for you, my flower.”

Stefan bristled at Naeem’s cutting remark. Brian just laughed, and shot an equally harsh reply, “Indeed, Master. He has all the prowess of a goat.” Stefan turned briefly and delivered a fierce glance at Brian, who was trying not to laugh. Naeem eyed the rumpled bed. “Were you tired, sweet one?”
“Yes I was. The sun: it wears me out.”
“Then let me take you to a quiet place where you can rest properly, without this buffoon in your way.” Naeem kicked out a long leg and planted a foot in Stefan’s side, sending the tall man tumbling into a pile of chocolate dessert. Brian put a hand to his mouth as if to politely cover a cough and stifled a giggle.
“Thank you master.” Brian said, bowing his head. He took Naeem’s outstretched hand and was led towards the door. He couldn’t resist a kick of his own into Stef’s backside as he left the room, still smirking.

Naeem led him down to the end of the corridor to a room Brian had never been in before. It was dark inside: the windows had wooden shutters and the only slivers of light came from around the edges where the sun poked through.

Once inside the room, Naeem slammed the door behind them violently. Brian heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed and saw the glint of a blade in the darkness with the flash of Naeem’s teeth.

“How dare you betray me? How dare you LIE TO ME!” he roared and shoved Brian backwards. His head crashed against the wall..
“I...I don’t know what you mean…”Brian stammered.
“You think I am stupid?” the knife was pressed up to Brian’s throat. “I saw the bed little one. You may have had the treachery of Amun to help clean you and your WHORE, but you couldn’t hide the stains on the silk, now could you?”
Brian gulped. He had no answer to this.

Naeem pushed Brian against the wall firmly and reached out for something. A metal clanking sound echoed through the room and Brian felt the familiar, sensation of chains being attached to his ankles. Then his arms were raised one by one, metal collars holding them firmly to the bare wall above his head.

“I will leave you here for now. I fear if I stay in your presence any longer I will kill you. And I am not ready for that.” Brian sighed with relief. “YET,” added Naeem coldly. He swished out of the room. Brian tugged on the chains pathetically. He had forgotten how it felt to have the cold metal digging into his flesh, but the memories of his initial capture now flooded back to him.

He was also filled with fear, though not for himself. He was still of some use to Naeem because he held his master’s affection, at least in a sexual way. Stefan though had no such power. The tears began to fall again as he prayed for the first time since he was fourteen years old. “Please God. Jesus. I never asked for anything before. But I am begging you now. Look after my baby. Don’t let him harm my baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian was left in that uncomfortable position for the first eight hours.  After that he was let down and repositioned on the floor, a thick collar wrapped around his neck and a short chain attaching it to the wall.  All he could do was sit or lay down, the chain not allowing him any mobility.
The hours ticked by at a snail's pace.  One day passed, and then two, Brian new this from watching the slits of light creeping around the shutters grow and fade.  Today offered the first break in the monotony of his prison. Today he had a visitor.
Naeem was somewhere in the darkness, sitting in a high backed leather chair.  One of the shutters had been partially opened so it's light spilled on Brian, allowing him to be seen by his guest but practically blinding the slave in the process.
"I was thinking of castration," Naeem's voice came from the darkness. "Eunuchs make for better servants since they're free of desire. But seeing as how he was on the receiving end, I don't see where that would solve our little problem."
"Please," Brian whispered, tears glistening on his cheek. "I did it. It was my fault. I told him we were allowed to. He thought he was following an order."
"Yes, yes, so you've said." There was a rustling, and the sound of Naeem pacing back and forth beyond Brian's line of vision. "I think for now we'll let that one be.  It's you I'm more concerned about. Since you're having such a problem remembering what you are and who you belong to, I thought I'd give you a little reminder."
Something flew through the air and landed at Brian's feet.  He picked up the scrap of leather, turning it over in his hands.  "A chastity belt?" he said with a moan.
"Put it on."
Brian slipped out of his pants but couldn't bring himself to follow the order. He sat there staring at it, trying to imagine what it'd be like to have live with that thing. Naeem cleared his throat loudly, making Brian jump, and he hurriedly struggled into the strange device and padlocked it in place.  "So this is my punishment?" he asked, wiping up his tears with the back of his hands as he pulled his pants back on.
"Not quite."
The collar was unlocked from his neck and Brian was pulled to his feet.  Naeem grabbed his arm firmly and started dragging him along.  Pins and needles danced through his legs as he walked for the first time in 48 hours.  He was taken to a room across the hall, a strange piece of furniture sitting in the middle of it.  He gave Naeem a pleading glance, but was just shoved over to the servant who was waiting there.
He was led to the contraption and made to kneel on a bench where his feet were bound side by side. Next, he was stretched over the table part face down, his hands locked into leather cuffs at the other side.
"Naeem, please. Master, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it wont happen again."
Naeem nodded, standing to the side with his arms crossed over his chest.  "Indeed, it wont. Because you'll know what awaits you should you be so foolish in the future."
The servant came around behind Brian and swung something in the air.  The bastinado landed on his upturned soles, making a thick red welt over both feet.  Brian had barely finished screaming when the second blow hit him. He pulled at his bindings, begging and pleading, but the punishment didn't stop until he was covered from heel to toe with painful markings.
Naeem walked over and grabbed Brian's hair, pulling his head back painfully. "I can do worse, precious daisy. Do not tempt me."
~
The servant undid Brian's bindings and carried him back to his room, where he unloaded the sobbing bundle to Stef.
"Oh my god, what did he do to you?" He carried Brian to the bed and laid him down gently.  Seeing the state his feet were in, he hurried to the bathroom and returned with a basin of warm water.
Brian grabbed his arm.  "Stef, please, tell me he didn't hurt you."
The Swede looked away, squeezing Brian's hand tightly.  "Just a few lashes.  It's fine.  Doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Where?" Brian asked, his tears refusing to stop now.
Stefan let out a small sigh and turned around, lowering his jacket to show that slightly healed whip marks.  "I don't think it will scar.  Gyasi has been helping me keep them clean."
Brian let out a tiny wail, wrapping his arms around Stefan's neck and holding him tightly.  "I want to go home, Stef.  I just want to turn time around and make things like they were."
"Me too baby," he said softly. "Me too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian hugged Stefan and felt the taller man’s hands brush around his waist, coming to rest on the leather belt. Stefan raised an eyebrow as he explored the contraption further.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asked tentatively.
Brian nodded.
A broad grin spread across Stefan’s face, “If this wasn’t such a serious situation we were in here, I’d piss myself laughing.”
Brian gave his slave a sharp look, then his face crumpled into a smile also.
“Yeah, the ultimate torture for someone like me, isn’t it?”
“It’s for the best, babe,” Stefan nodded, “I couldn’t stand to see you hurt again. And God knows, I wouldn’t be able to resist you.” He lay down on the bed and patted the covers for Brian to join him. Brian lay down and nestled into Stefan, who pulled the small man close into his body, kissing the top of his head lovingly. Before long, both were fast asleep.

Two days passed. Naeem, Amun and Gyasi did not seem to be around the palace. Armed guards patrolled the house in greater numbers in their absence, and there was a tense feeling in the air. On the third day, Brian was called before Naeem. His master stood with a very serious expression on his face, arms folded. “How are your wounds?” Brian bowed his head. His wounds were still stinging, though they had closed up and were beginning to heal. “I am sorry that I took out my anger in such a dreadful way, pretty one. But I am a jealous man. I prize my possessions highly.”

“I am sorry I betrayed you, master.” Brian answered sincerely. Naeem had provided him with a better life here than he had been given anywhere on his travels. He may not have his freedom, but the prisoner’s lifestyle was so relaxing and pampering, the sex incredible. In reality, this life suited him well. He finally realised that he had been quite happy here: being an unknown and appreciated for what he really was for the first time in many years. And now that Stef was here too, his happiness had doubled.

“I have a gift for you,” Naeem smiled, and handed Brian a leather box. Brian opened it to reveal a necklace. On the end of the gold chain was a sapphire orb, its many faces shimmering in the light. Brian looked up at Naeem, revelling in the beauty of this gift.
“I...I am not deserving of this gift master.” Brian stammered.
“Oh but you are, you are,” Naeem purred softly, and stroked Brian’s cheek. “It is a gift to show how much I love you, and to apologise for my harsh treatment of you. But the other slaves may become envious of you if they spy it about your delicate neck, my love, so I ask you to wear it under your robes. It should hang low enough to remain hidden. Please, wear it at all times to remind you of how much you are cherished and adored.”

Naeem kissed Brian forcefully, and grabbed him by the arms. He walked the slave backwards and pushed him onto a chaise longue decked in red satin. The necklace was placed over Brian’s head. Next, Naeem produced a small key and unlocked the chastity belt. He tossed it to one side. Amun scurried into the room and prepared Naeem with the oil lube. Naeem motioned for Brian to turn away from him, so his willing slave turned around and leant over the arm of the chaise. He draped his arms to the floor - grabbing a short, carved chair leg in each hand - and knelt, waiting for the familiar feeling of Naeem’s cock entering his ass. He hung his head down over the side of the chaise and moaned as Naeem entered him and started to thrust: gently at first but then faster and stronger. One of Naeem’s hands reached underneath Brian’s pulsating body and grabbed his cock, pulling it in the same rhythm as his thrusts. They came together, strangled cries of pure joy echoing around the room. Brian loved to hear Naeem’s cries of ecstasy, loved to know that he pleased his master so much. He collapsed down onto the chaise, and Naeem fell on top of him, breathing heavily.
“I love you, my wild flower,”
“I love you master,” the words escaped Brian’s mouth before they had fully registered in his head. He gulped at the enormity of what he had said.

After several minutes lying together, Naeem rose up and Gyasi appeared from out of nowhere to clean the two men.  Brian felt the chastity belt being replaced.
“I understand you have an affection for your slave, Brian, and that is why I let you return to him. But I will not risk you betraying me again.”
Brian nodded, happy that Naeem used his proper name for once. “I understand, master,” he said obediently.

He returned to his room to find Stefan pacing back and forth. He ran to Brian and scooped him up in his arms, “Oh thank God!”
Tears ran down the tall man’s cheek. “I’ve been so worried about you baby, disappearing like that!” Another day had passed, and the two men settled down to sleep, nestling into each other. So much went unspoken in this place. Thoughts of Steve’s death were pushed aside, in a vain attempt to forget the horrors and concentrate on the life of luxury they were experiencing. This was the only reality now. They had to make the most of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A noise from outside in the courtyard woke the two sleeping lovers with a jolt. A crack resounded, the sound of gunfire. A pale pink haze glowed at the window. Dawn was just breaking. There was a confused buzz in the air – men shouting, children wailing in terror. More gunfire. Stefan pulled Brian close and lay engulfing the smaller man protectively. Brian buried his head into Stefan’s chest.

The door flew open – Amun stood there. He hollered something incomprehensible but his hand gestures showed that he wanted them to get up and leave the room. As they passed him in the doorway, Amun handed Brian a small key, winked and gave him a smack on the backside. Brian was puzzled, so Amun tugged on the chastity belt fixed on Brian’s waist and winked again, then shoved the two foreigners out into the corridor. He overtook them and ran ahead, shooting glances into every doorway they passed. At the fourth doorway, Amun stopped and darted inside. Brian and Stefan followed.

There were people running all over the palace, doors opened and were slammed. The three men stood in silence, pressed against the wall. No sign of Naeem. The sound of breaking glass came from Brian’s room and several men ran to investigate. Gunfire rattled in the passageway, people shouted to one another, barking instructions. The noise was punctuated by the odd cry in pain as someone was hit in the crossfire.

Suddenly, Naeem emerged from a panel that lead off from the room in which they stood. His eyes lit up when he saw Brian standing there. He took the small American in his arms and held him tight. “Oh my sweet flower, Praises you are safe!” He shot a furtive look at the doors, as if waiting for something to happen, and then pulled Brian towards the panel, the others following close behind.

As the panel slid shut behind them, they heard the cry of a guard – they had been spotted leaving the room. They were now in darkness, descending a stone staircase. Behind them there was a hammering on the panel. They were running down a corridor now, as they heard the rattle of a gun and bullet holes peppered the corridor with light. A doorway opened in front of them. One of the house slaves stood there, beckoning furiously as bullets began to whiz past their heads.

Stefan let out a cry – he had been hit in the arm. Brian and Amun pulled him along, through the door into the daylight. The sun was now fully above the horizon. They were in a street about 100 metres from the palace. A jeep was waiting for them: it purred loudly as Gyasi sat in the driver’s seat revving the engine. They piled into the back of the jeep, Amun tumbling into the passenger side, and the vehicle roared down the street in a cloud of dust as the chasing party emerged from the tunnel cursing and waving their fists. A few of them let off their shotguns, but by that time the jeep was already turning a corner and out of their reach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brian peeled back the bandana that had been hastily wrapped around Stefan’s arm.  His nose scrunched up, afraid of what he might find underneath it.  He cleaned it as gently as possible, hating the way Stefan was flinching and fighting back tears.  “Oh good,” he let out a deep sigh, his face breaking into a smile. “It’s just a flesh wound.  That means we don’t have dig out a bullet.”
          Stefan groaned, “Just how were you planning to do that? A rusty knife and a stick to bite down on?”
          “Stop being such a baby.  You’re fine, see? Now be a good boy while I bandage it up and the nurse will give you a lolly.”  He opened up the first aid kit he’d found in the jeep and started pulling things out. The rubbing alcohol made Stefan hiss but he stayed still.  Brian found a long string of gauze and started wrapping it around his bicep.
          “Do we at least know why our lives are in danger?”
          Brian shrugged, “Naeem said it was political unrest, or something like that.  A revolt of the poor, attacking the rich kind of thingy.”
          “And you think that’s the truth?”
          “Well, what else could it be? Shit like that happens all the time in these countries, you know that. Besides, Naeem wouldn’t lie to me.”
          “What makes you think that?”
          “I just do, okay?  I know him.  He’s a good person.”  Brian taped the bandage in place and turned around.  They’d driven for hours and were now deep in the dessert. The jeep had a stash of provisions already loaded in it along with two tents that had been set up a few minutes ago.  Brian went to one of the bags that had been stashed in there and started searching for a pack of cigarettes.
          “Brian,” Stefan said as softly as possible. “He’s NOT a good person.  He keeps slaves. He beats you.”
          “He treats me like a prince!” Brian snapped back. “He’s from a different culture, Stef. In their culture it’s okay to do shit like that, you can’t expect him to completely go against everything he’s been taught is right. Besides, he’s only hit me a couple of times and usually he pampers me silly. It’s a good life.  I can put up with a few...emotional quirks in exchange for everything else.”
          “You’re falling for him!”
          “I am not!” Brian yanked a carton of smokes from the bags front pocket and flopped down on the mat that’d been rolled out in the corner. “I just... got to know him.  He’s a nice person, you should give him a chance.”
          “Nice people don’t try to make Brian Molko celibate,” he said, walking over and plucking the fag from Brian’s lips and taking a deep drag.
          Brian rolled his eyes and shook another butt into his mouth.  “He doesn’t want me celibate, he just wants me all to himself or for him to be watching if I’m with someone else.  It means he thinks I’m special. I find it flattering.”
          Stef plopped down next to him, squeezing Brian’s knee.  “I just don’t want you to lose yourself, Bri.  I see you trying so hard to please him.  What if tomorrow he changes his mind?  I don’t want you to get hurt.”
          Brian smiled sweetly and opened his mouth to assure Stef he wouldn’t, when there was a rustling and the tent flap came open. Naeem walked through, unbuttoning his shirt, and gave Stefan a sharp look. “Leave us.” He hurried to his feet and glanced over at Brian but he was staring up at Naeem with a wide grin, pulling his own clothing off.  Stef made sure to close the flap tightly when he left.
          The black sky was speckled with stars and a crescent moon.  Stef made a wish on one and headed toward the oasis they’d set up camp next to.  He stared out at the small pond as he smoked, flipping ashes onto the sand and worrying about Brian.
There was a small splash and a soft giggle.  Stefan squinted out over the water to see two figures immerging from it. They must have been bathing because both were naked, droplets of water falling from their chocolate hair and rolling down their caramel colored skin.  Hand in hand they waded toward shore, giggling at each other and having an unintelligible conversation that was obviously about Stef as they kept pointing and looking at him.
“Um, hi,” Stef said when they stopped right in front of him.  He flicked his cigarette into the sand and stood there trying not to stare too hard at the image in front of him.  Amun said something and pointed to the ground.  Stefan just shrugged, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”  The boy went up on tiptoes and grabbed Stefan’s shoulders, pushing him effortlessly to his knees.  “Shit, how’d you get so strong?” He may not have understood Amun’s words but he definitely understood the hard cock that was dangling just inches from his lips and the hand at the back of his head pulling him foreword.  “Wait!” he put his hands on Amun’s thighs and stopped himself from being pulled the rest of the way.  “Can we... I mean are we allowed?  He wont get mad?”  Looking into Amun’s eyes he tried to make his point clear somehow.  The slave just grinned and started tugging at Stefan’s head again.
He shrugged, ‘well, it’s not like I was told I couldn’t and since I can’t have Brian...’  His hands moved around until he was holding the back of Amun’s thighs and he let his head get pushed the rest of the way down.  The taste of him was enough to make Stefan moan, it’d been far too long since he’d had a cock in his mouth. His tongue lapped at the slit as his lips wrapped firmly behind the head and sucked hard. The noise that caused Amun to make could probably be heard back in Cairo.
Gyasi was behind him, removing Stefan’s clothing with practiced perfection so as not to disturb the work he was doing on his brother.  He squealed when he felt something probing his ass, Stef was never into dry fucking but wasn’t really in a position to protest right now. Gyasi was still wet from his swim and that helped him ease in.  His small hand on Stefan’s cock made the Swede relax enough to accept him.  It wasn’t long until they were all three moaning, sand crunching beneath their knees and toes as insects hummed in the distance.  Stefan opened his eyes and looked up at Amun, seeing the way the beads of water sparkled on his skin like diamonds.  His hands ran up the slave’s thighs, finding his small ass and wiggling one finger inside.  With a sharp cry, Amun came, grabbing Stefan’s ears and pushing himself as far in as possible.  Gyasi was only seconds behind which surprised Stefan, for some reason he thought they’d cum together, like it was a sexual bond between twins.  His head was released and he was pulled tightly to Gyasi’s chest, gasping in the dry dessert air as he sent streams of white onto the sand below.
They collapsed into a pile of naked bodies, arms and legs tangled together so that you couldn’t tell who’s was who’s.  The peace was disturbed by Naeem’s booming voice shouting from Brian’s tent.  Stefan grabbed Gyasi’s hand tightly, “Oh fuck, are we in trouble?”  The twins gave him a confused look then shrugged at each other.  Amun giggled and kissed the tip of Stefan’s nose before untangling himself and finding his robe.  He slipped it back on and grabbed a bowl he’d set beside it.  Filling it with pond water, he hurried toward the tent to clean off the two lovers.  Stefan let out a heavy sigh, realizing what the screaming had been for, and tried to flop back onto the sand but Gyasi had his hand and was pulling him up.  “What?”  The slave got him to his feet and started dragging him toward the pond.  Stefan ran along behind him and slipped into the warm water.  

More to come....

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