Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 

   White slave Boy: by (c) Hamilton Joyce.

   Cecil stetched his legs out, enjoying the feel of the leather against
his naked thighs.

   Mr Chartier always liked him to wear shorts when he visited the old
man's flat, and could be relied on to feel up the boy's naked thigh under
the leg of his shorts, finally grasping the boy's by-now hard little cock
while stealing his first kiss of the afternoon.

   But not his last!  He was a randy old buzzard, Mr Chartier, and
presumably with the help of viagra could also be relied on to shag the
boy's cute little bottom at least twice each visit.

   Cecil reached under himself, fingering his anus a moment to make sure he
was not still dribbling the guy's cum.  OK!  Reasonably dry.

   Unusually, Mr Chartier had suggested to the boy, once he had drained his
balls into that willing rectum, that Cecil might like to meet one of Mr
Chartier's friends, one who also loved young boys.  His friend was, it
seemed, a big-built black man, muscular and with cock and balls to match
his massive frame.  And very rich!

   Cecil was a bit afraid.....perhaps it was true what they said about
black guys, perhaps he would be really massive and stretch the boy's male
pussy as none of his several lovers had yet managed.  Other boys had
stories about torn arseholes caused by man-monsters, though Cecil had yet
to come across a cock his anus coukd not accommodate.  He decided to give
it a try....  so here he was in the hired car Mr Chartier's friend had sent
to collect him, and looking forward to even more sex than usual on a
Saturday afternoon.  He had never had a black guy before but had often
fantasised.  And if the guy really was fit, muscular, that would be a real
treat.

   The driver was a big guy too.  Black, like the man he was to meet, and
he kept looking in the mirror at the boy.  Cecil knew that look in an adult
male: the guy fancied him, would love to slip his cock between his
little-boy buns.  There was that look in his eyes.  All he had to do was
pull into a lay-bye, kill the engine and ask: Cecil really fancied him and
would have enjoyed a quickie.  But the guy just drove on, often glancing in
his mirror and meeting Cecil's eyes there.
Cecil stretched his legs out again and rubbed his crotch a moment, where

his cock was already making a little tent.

   This was better than the usual taxi!  In fact it was magnificent, a huge
black Mercedes, air-conditioned, tinted windows, leather....  the works. 
And in the arm-rest a little bowl with triangular sweeties in it.  Cecil
recognised the gold foil of his favourite chocolate and thought, "Why Not".
He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth, enjoying the familiar
chocolate and orange flavour as he wolfed it down.

   The driver caught his eye in the mirror and was smiling, so that was all
right.  Cecil unwrapped another one, and took his time sucking it slowly
and luxuriously.

   It was getting hot in the car.  Too hot!  Cecil looked for a window
catch, but they must have been electric, and in any case he was feeling a
bit sleepy.  That would be the result of nearly an hour's pleasure with Mr
Chartier, being fucked kneeling and then for a long age on his back with
his legs round the old guy.  He liked Mr Chartier and the guy was never in
a hurry.  The driver would wake him when they got there!  He nodded
off.....

   ...........................................

   Cecil woke up feeling quite refreshed, stetched his long legs and rubbed
his eyes.

   He was not in that black limousine.

   Where was he?  He sat up.  The bed was large and low, and covered with a
pimk satin sheet.  He could smell talcum powder.  It was on his own skin!
And where did these panties come from.  He felt them with both hands, and
looked down.  They were see-though black nylon and more like the bottom
part of a shortie-nightdress than girlie panties.  Sure enough, the top
part, the see-through nightie bit, was laying on the floor by the bed.

   It was chilly in the room, and Cecil reached for the frothy nylon and
put it on.

   To be honest, girlie panties and stuff did not do much for Cecil, who
rather preferred his sex naked.  But several of his man-friends liked their
little boys to cross-dress a bit, and Cecil of course went along with that:
it was always exciting to see the effect he had especially on married men,
the bisexual ones, when in sexy lingerie.  And it must be said his own
brand of good looks probably was even sexier in see-through nylon...  so
feminine.

   Where was he?  Presumably in Mr Chartier's friend's place.  Perhaps he
had passed out after the pummelling his prostate had taken from Mr Chartier
cock and the four times he had cum while being shagged, twice with a stream
of boy-juice over his tanned chest, and then twice even more intensely but
nearly dry.  It had been a long and good session.  Yes!  That must be it.
He had fainted, been delivered unconscious to the black millionaire's
place, washed, powdered and prepared for sex, but left to recover a bit
from the rigours of the afternoon earlier.He got up from the bed and looked
out of the only window; the garden was lush and green, and the plants were
a bit unfamiliar, but he supposed a millionaire might well have exotic
plants in his garden.  He shivered and realised why he was a bit cold: the
place was air-conditioned.  There was no-one in sight in the garden and the
house was very quiet: he decided to try looking out the door, which was
ajar.  He was nearly at the door when it opened, and yet another huge black
guy came in.  Perhaps this was Mr Chartier's friend?

   'Follow me.  The General is waiting for you.'

   Cecil followed him, wondering why the guy was clad only in a white
loin-cloth tied around his waist and if anything accentuating the bulge of
his cock and balls.  As he followed the man, Cecil could not take his eyes
of those massive thighs like tree-trunks, and the muscles of his arse as he
walked.  He looked as if he would be a vigorous fucker!  The rich friend
must be The General, and with luck he would be built like his driver and
servant.

   Cecil would have liked to question this man, certainly a servant, but
had to hurry to keep up with him, as he padded naked feet over polished
wood flooring with the occasional furry animal skin as a mat here and
there. The walls too were wood-panelled, but with a few paintings and
occasionally a white marble statue on a plinth: always naked boys, statues
and paintings!  Every room was empty but luxuriously furnished till they
came to a large hall in which there were some people.  About a dozen young
boys, all about his own age he guessed, but all black or brown, were
lolling about on cushions and low beds like the one on which he had woken
up.  several of them were playing computer games or watching television. 
Two were laying on a bed and kissing, fingers groping each other's little
hard cocks.  A few of the boys were wearing satin panties or thongs and one
tall arab boy was in a long satin negligee and was looking at himself in a
mirror, but most were naked.  Except for the two on the bed they looked up
as Cecil and his escort moved swiftly through the room.

   Cecil did not mind them looking: he might as well be naked himself in
this flimsy nightie and panties, and he knew he looked good.  So did those
boys.  Cecil mostly had sex with grown men, but of course he enjoyed it too
with those of his school-mates who were into little-boy sex, and he could
have fancied any one of these.  His cock, half-hard before at the prospect
of a muscular black-man now went full-erect with the thought of being
spit-roast by a couple of those boys, with their shiny black skin.

   Cecil knew what a harem was, and clearly this millionaire, this
"General" had his own harem of little boys.  Cecil smiled to himself: who
could blame the guy?  Cecil thought that he himself was rich he would have
a harem of his own....  all big strong guys with hard, springy cocks!  He
wondered where the guy's mansion was....Must be in the country to be as big
as it semed.  probably one of thos huge mansions in Surrey or somewhere....

   And finally they were there.

   His escort ushered the boy in first, saluting a man who was sitting at a
huge mahogany desk.  'The boy awoke five minutes ago.  I brought him
immediately as ordered.'

   'That is all, Mustapha.'

   Another salute, and the boy was left with "Mr Chartier's friend".

   A moment silence while the guy, not moving from the huge mahogany chair
with a high-domed back, inspected him.  Cecil looked at him.  He was
wearing military uniform of the camouflage type, and it looked like thin
cotton.  You could see he was immense, barrel chested with bulging biceps
(the jacket was short-sleeved), and very, very black.  He did not smile,
not at all.

   'Ah!  So you are the English whore.....'

   Cecil was not so pleased at that.  All right, Mr Chartier always gave
him a £5 note as did some other guys.  Some of them gave him panties and
stockings, high heeled shoes even, but that was really more for their own
pleasure than as a reward he supposed.  And one had even given him a pair
of ear-rings,,,,real diamonds.  but these were presents not payment.  No,
not nice to be called a whore!

   'They told me you were pretty.  And you are.  Turn round and show me
your arse!'

   That was better, the guy thought he was pretty!

   'Take them off....  those silken things.'

   'Good!  The guy liked his boys naked.  better than those who wanted him
in stockings and things.....'

   'Now bend and spread your buttocks, boy.  Ah yes!  you will find out
soon what I do with boy-bottoms.'

   Cecil had often met this sort of role-playing stuff, and while it was a
bit boring it made some guys really horny, which was good.  Some wanted to
be uncles with nephews, teachers with schoolboys, fathers and sons....  the
scenarios were endless, but always ended with the same two acts!

   'Turn round and face me.  Ah, yes.  They told me you would be worth it.
I paid five thousand for a white English girlie-boy and here he is.  I am
going to shag you, boy, and in fucking you I'll be fucking the whole bloody
British Empire and their bloody Commonwealth.  Churchill, Thatcher, The
Queen, and bloody politicians who call me a slaver and try to get me in
front of their bloody International Court.'

   'Five thousand what, Cecil wondered.  Not pounds, obviously.  And this
guy was really over the top in his role-play.....nasty chip on his
shoulder. Still if it turned him on to humiliate a representative of
England, so be it.  as long as he fucked well!  And if he considered me a
whore then probably he would pay me!

   'Come here, boy.'

   He was unzipping his uniform trousers, and you could see he had no
underpants on as he levered out his cock.  It was huge, and Cecil
shuddered. It must be ten inches long and so broad at the knob....  God! 
could he take one as big as that?

   'Suck it, English whore!'

   Cecil was intimidated a bit, partly by the size of that monstrous cock,
but mostly because the man had a surly and angry tone all the time, as if
he really meant to humiliate the boy.  But cecil reasoned to himself that
this guy liked to role play, and if it was a bit realistic well he was not
the first guy the boy had serviced who enjoyed these little mind-games. 
They were not real, only games after all.  and that cock was magnificent,
so tall and straight with huge veins standing out on it and a great,
flaring purple head.  Cecil was glad the guy had no foreskin as that would
be an extra problem given the size of The General's weapon.

   cecil pulled the light cotton trousers down a bit so he could get at the
balls: as he expected these were huge too, loose in their black sack, and
the hair was crispy and tightly curled.  He had never had a black guy
before and was fascinated by this so-different pubic hair.  He licked at
the sack and nibbled it.

   'I said suck, whore.  Suck means suck!'

   The knob was almost too big for Cecil's mouth: he was only twelve,
though actually he would be thirteen next week.  He had a sudden fear. 
Suppose at thirteen he was too old for the nice men who allowed him to suck
their cocks, who gladly accepted his boy-juice into their eager mouths, and
above all massaged his prostate with ther adult cocks.  He managed to get
the knob past his lips, and found the shaft, not as wide, did not stretch
his mouth as much.  He could suck, and it was really very nice.  The guy
was so macho and masculine: he might pretend to be a tyrant but Cecil
unerstood men who liked to play dom-sub games with a willing girlie-boy. 
The shaft was moving nicely in and out his mouth now, though he could only
take about half of it.  The knob hit the top of his throat with each
thrust, but he had long ago learned to repress the gagging reflex.

   Those balls were interesting!  Cecil cupped them in his little hand,
white against black, and felt their weight.  Very sexy!  He pulled at the
skin pinched between thumb and forefinger, and suddenly his mouth was
filled with hot, creamy cum.  The guy pulled his cock out and a second
spurt hit the boy full in the face, splatting in a line of thick, white
man-juice from his chin, across one eye, and over his forehead.  Roughly
The General grabbed the boy's head and forced it over his cock-head agin so
the next spurt again filled his mouth, and the next.  The guy's legs had
tensed and lifted off the floor while he came, but now the cock was
motionless, still oozing gently and twitching from time to time, the
tension left those tree-trunk thighs, and his boots were back on the floor.

   The boy was surprised how quickly he had cum: he must have been
desperate for it.

   Thanks for good head?  Hardly!

   'Bloody English whore.  Like all the whores you make me cum so I don't
have your arse.  You think because I cum I'll spare your tender bum?  Well
I'll show you what I do with whores' arseholes.  I'll show you, English.'

   Cecil suddenly thought, "What if the guy really means it.  What if it
isn't role-play?" He was frightened, but his cock still stood five-inches
proud, and the sight of those balls and the half-hard cock, hanging now
like a thick, rubber air-hose, was still working its magic on the boy.  He
wanted the guy at least to try and get it up and into his tight little
bum-hole.

   The guy kicked at him as he knelt before the throne (for that is what it
seemed), and the boy went flying backward.  The boot had caught him in the
chest, and it hurt.

   This was no joke.  However rich Mr Chartier's friend was he should not
have done that.  The little boy cock shrank back to winkle size!

   But that was not all.  The General grapped the lad by one arm, grip
hurting him, and pushed him over a low bench covered with red leather. 
Bent double, cecil felt his wrists and ankles bound by cold stainless
steel, He heard four clicks as some sort of locking kept him bent double,
head able to see little except the polished floor, and his legs spread wide
open.  He expected to be fucked imminently and was at least half looking
forward to it.  The man might be a nasty sort of bully, but he had a
wonderful cock, the sort of cock you might go five years as a girlie-boy
and never enjoy.  Again, Cecil was aware he had spent three of his
girlie-boy years already, and only really had two more before he was a full
adolescent and no longer attractive to the boy-lovers he himself loved so
much.  He would make the most of this shag!

   But he was wrong!

   There was a whistling through the air and a terrible sharp pain across
his buttocks.  He was being whipped!

   'One for the British empire, English boy-whore!'

   'Please no.  That's not right!  Nooooo!'

   again that sinister whooshing.

   'Two for Waterloo!'

   'Three for Trafalgar!'

   'Four for Churchill!'

   'Five for the Queen.'

   'And six for the bloody International Court of Justice'.

   There was a pause, and Cecil felt fingers in his arse-crease.  Oily
fingers.  Penetrating, finger-fucking hard.  That was nice!  His cock
stiffened despite all.  The fingers pulled out, and then a sudden searing
pain as that great, flaring knob was forced into his bottom.  Even the
first time with Daddy had not been as painful as this.  It was terrible,
and his squeaky scream rang out though the corridors of the palace (for
palace is what it was).

   Cecil forced his anal sphincter to relax, as he had learned long ago,
and gradually the pain reduced until of course it was replaced by the
pleasure of the pummelled prostate.  Not so pleasant was the slap on his
already martyrised bottom as The General walloped him with an open hand to
accompany each deep and powerful thrust.  But as his anus learned to
accommodate the unusual girth and length the pleasure increased and Cecil
might even have cum if his violator had not cum first, muttering invective
about England and Britain as he pumped his load into the boy.

   No sooner done than cock was withdrawn and he retreated behind his desk
again, wiping his weapon on a towel doubtless kept handy for cleaning up
cum.  He pushed a button and almost instantly the doors opened to admit the
servant again.

   'Clear away that rubbish and the English whore.  I'm done with him for
today.'

   The servant saluted, incongruous to see a military salute from a man
dressed only in a white loin-cloth!  He swept up the crumpled nylon nightie
and panties, slipped the metal catches, and picked Cecil up as easily as he
had lifted the lingerie.

   Outside the room, still hoding the boy cradled in his arms, he whispered
in his ear.  'I'm Mustapha.  I'll take you to my room and we'll clean you
up, and put some soothing oil on your sore bottom-cheeks'.

   Cecil allowed himself to be carried, and it was good to feel this man
caring for him.

   'You smell nice, Mustapha.'

   'After I shower I use a light lemon-oil.  That will be good for your
sore bottom, too.  You'll see.'

   Cecil nestled his head into that strong shoulder.

   As tenderly as any father Mustapha carried the boy through long
corridors, all empty of people, pushed a door open with a bare foot, and
laid the boy on a bed.  The room was nice.....its window looked out onto
the same garden Cecil had first seen when he had awoken and the sunlight
streamed in.  There was a fridge, a television, an armchair, and a table
with two chairs.  Through a half-open door the boy could see what looked
like a shower room.  The bed was big, and the sheet covering it was crisp
and clean.

   'What's your name?'

   'I'm Cecil.'

   'Let me clean you up a bit.'

   Cum had dried on the boy's cheek and forehead and in little crusts
across his smooth chest.  Mustapha went to the shower room and emerged with
a damp cloth which he used to wipe all traces of that first orgasm.

   Mustapha felt a tenderness towards this young boy, so innocent and
hardly understanding how desperate his situation was.  These boys were all
so pretty and so willing to please: he loved them all, and sometinmes
thought he and his fellow guards were substitute fathers, mothers too
perhaps, for these lost boys.  Though many fathers would baulk at the
physical expression of that love that all the guards gave the boys.  and
how the little beauties loved that!  How they loved these big cocks
stretching their tight bottoms and filling their mouths, sucking their
little-boy cocklets and swallowing the thin cum.  The boys thought of their
muscled guards as servants, companions, sex-partners, but guards they were
nonetheless.  He gently kissed the boy on his forehead.  This was the first
white boy The General had procured (heaven only knows where he got some of
his harem), and with his blonde good looks and his clear, golden skin, the
boy was going to be kept busy by a succession of male admirers.  The boy
smiled, timidly at him, and he kissed him on that snub-nose.

   'Turn over on your belly, Cecil.  Ah!  Not too bad and I've seen worse.
Those weals will soon go down and he has not broken the skin.  That would
be a shame with such a pretty bottom.'

   Cecil relaxed completely as strong hands massaged his bottom cheeks,
waist, back and thighs, the clean scent of lemons filling the room.  The
stinging sensation went away.

   'Did he hurt you here.  I heard you scream?'

   An oily finger penetrated the boy's bottom.

   'At first.  He's the biggest I ever had, and it hurt at first.  Later it
was nice, but not the slapping.  He slapped me too hard, and it isn't fun
any more if it really stings...'

   'Then it was not the first time a man has had your bottom?'

   'Jeez no.  Lots of guys do me, and I really like it.'

   'That's good.  It's terrible for the boys who have never been fucked, to
have The General as their first....'

   'He's a bully.  And the dom thing is not just a game with him; he really
means it.'

   'Poor Cecil!  The General is a brute....  but he's a good general all
the same.  His army are glad they have him!'

   A finger still in the boy's bottom, he felt underneath and found Cecil's
cock hard now.

   'Did he let you cum?'

   'I nearly did, but he was too quick.'

   'He always is!  That's his main problem.' Mustapha laughed.  'Turn over
again, Cecil, and we'll put that right'.

   He stood looking down at the angelic blonde boy with that pretty
little-boy cock.  He undid his loin cloth and let it fall to the floor. 
Cecil looked up saw a fine half-hard black cock, long and slender with a
pointy purple knob....  cut just as The General's had been, but nowhere
near as thick.  Just as long though.  Their eyes met and they smiled, both
complicit in the sex act that Cecil knew so well, that had been part of his
daily routine since Daddy first showed him how to be fucked, so gently and
happily for both of them.  Cecil had been so proud when his father first
slid that mysterious adult cock into his arse-hole, tight of course in a
boy just eleven years old.  He had not protested, and had soon learned to
look forward to the morning fuck in the back of the car half-way to school,
and the goodnight fuck last thing.

   Mustapha knelt by the bed, leaned over and closed his lips round the
little pink knob.  The boy sighed, and opened his legs as the mouth sank
down swallowing the whole cock until nostril rested on his pubes.  A hand
under the boy to continue the anal masturbation, the other hand cradling,
stroking, tickling a tight little ball sack, and the familiar
slurping-sound of a boy's cock slipping in and out of a man's mouth. 
Mustapha felt and saw the boys legs stretch and flex and knew he was about
to be rewarded, and sure enough a silky stream of cum filled his mouth.  It
tasted like black boy's cum, Mustapha thought: interesting there was no
difference there.

   Cecil kept his hands on Mustapha's shaven head, holding it in place over
his cock until the last twitches and little spasms of his orgasm were over
and then released it.

   Back on the bed he cuddled the boy, who enjoyed the muscular arms around
him, the feel of that barrel chest, and above all the sensation of a now
rock-solid cock pressing against him.  It was always good to be cuddled by
a handsome man, and the more so when it was the prelude to inevitable
fucking.  His Daddy would cuddle him tonight and would reward the boy for
being good all day by a nce cock in his mouth or bottom.  Cecil loved a
cuddle.  As they kissed, Cecil reached down and grasped the rigid pole,
feeling a suspicion of precum at its tip.

   ''Do you want to....?'

   'I certainly do Cecil.  Kneel for me on the bed.'

   The boy felt bristly chin betweeen his buttock cheeks, and then a
pointed tongue licking around his anus.  It penetrated and Cecil pushed
backwards, giggling as he always did when rimmed.

   'That's lovely, but I want you to fuck me, Mustapha.  I really do. 
Please.'

   'Ah!  These so-willing boys, though it was not always that they were so
keen the first day they arrived, and especially after meeting The General!
When they had been traumatised by their first, really bad sex, then
Mustapha and his fellow guards would cuddle and kiss them, whisper in their
ears, but spare them any more stress from oral or anal sex.  Always after a
few days with the other boys in the play-room new arrivals were ready for
it, even eager!

   Strong hands parted the boys rounded cheek's, still with something of
the feminine at nearly thirteen, and lacking the masculine angularity that
comes at fifteen or so.  The boy's anus was relaxed and would still be
oiled from the finger-fucking so Mustapha merely oiled his own cock, making
sure the knob was especially shiny, and with a firm push forced it into the
boy's anus.

   Cecil was happy: this is how it should be: a huge, strong guy, but
gentle and kind too, concerned that his girlie-boy lover should enjoy it as
much as he did.  Nice Mr Chartier was like that: not strong of course, but
loving and considerate.  The guy was fucking him well now, long slow
strokes into him, and quickly out, for another slow, powerful thrust, and
his knob-head was brushing against the boy's pleasure spot every time. 
Cecil found himself dreaming about his Papa again, thinking that daddy
would fuck him just like this.  He wondered if he were to take that
see-through nightie home with him tonight, and showed it to Daddy, would he
want to kiss him with more than the regulation peck on the cheek or
forehead.  The boy was getting quite excited now, and knew that he might
come just from the steady prostate massage, without wanking himself at all.

   'Can i turn over, please, Mustapha?  This is lovely, but I want to be
able to see you while you....  while you do me.' "Fuck" seemed to crude a
word for this loving sex, with gentle hands caressing his buttocks, back,
shoulders, neck, while that cock inexorably plumbed him.  He felt
Mustapha's tongue licking his back a moment.

   Wordless, Mustapha managed to turn the boy without wholly removing his
cock, and continued fucking, the boy's legs now tucked under his arms, gold
and black together.  As he knew he would be, Cecil saw his lover was
smiling happily as he calmly thrust in and out.  He reached up and managed
to touch one of the black man's man-breasts, pecs developed and muscular.

   His own cock was just demanding it: the prostate massage was even better
in this position, and when Mustapha bent him nearly double, with his
slender legs over those massive ebony shoulders, the pleasure was intense
and continuous.  He got a hand on each pec now, and felt the muscles
beneath the now-sweating skin.  Mustapha murmured something in his own
language, and Cecil knew he was coming, pouring his man-seed deep into the
boy just as he loved.  The thought of those streamers of silky cum in his
rectum so excited the boy that he was coming too, without having touched
his cocklet.  The stream of boy-juice splattered over his own face and in a
streamer down his chest and belly: a second spurt covered his belly in
white droplets, and then, as he held it for the first time, it oozed onto
his fist.

   Mustapha released the boy's legs and with his cock still inside him
scooped some of the boy-juice onto his index finger and licked it off.

   'Lovely!  That was lovely, Cecil.  you are a good boy, and very pretty.
I think you will be happy here eventually.'

   Cecil's anus expelled the cock just as he wondered what the man meant.
He would be going home soon.  Did Mustapha expect him to be coming back
again?  Well, he wasn't returning here.  Whatever Mr Chartier said he was
not having anything more to do with that General man, however friendly he
was with Mr Chartier, however rich he was.

   Mustapha smiled, and wiped the boy clean with the same damp flannel,
before kissing him.

   'Put these on again, and we'll go back to the playroom, where the other
boys will want to get to know you.' Mustapha wound the white cloth around
his cock and bum, and clipped it in place.  There was a military uniform
pressed smartly and hanging on the back of the shower dook but it seemed
that Mustaoha usually just went around in his underwear.  Strange!  But
sexy!

   Cecil wished there was a mirror so he could see himself in that sexy
nightie and panties, but the only one was head and shoulders, so he used
that to straighten his hair before holding hands with Mustapha, and again
threading through long, polished corridors.

   ...................................................................

   At the door of what Cecil had already learned was called the "Playroom"
he was left standing and looking at the boys, who had not noticed him yet.
At last one of them, a lively-looking black boy dressed in girlie white
nylon knickers and nothing else saw him and came scampering over.

   'Hello!  I'm Benjie.'

   'I'm Cecil.....'

   'Hey, you're English!  I'm English too.  Where are you from?'

   Cecil was mystified again.  why was the boy surprised he was
English?.....He really was not likely to be anything else, surely?  But he
replied, "Windsor".

   'Peckham me.  I've been here about a month.  I'm the newest of the boys
before you came.  The others speak a bit of English, but not much, so am I
glad you're here.  And you look veyr tasty in that nightie!  Yummy, yummy.'

   'Thanks, Benjie.  and you look tasty too!'

   'Those two guys sucking each other off over there are both arabs, one
from Syria and the other from Israel.  The two guys playing backgammon are
from Nigeria and Ghana.  And those three looking at the porn on the tv are
all local boys.  There's a couple of others too, but I guess theyve decided
to go to bed together in private.  Did The General hurt you much?'

   'He's a pig.  He called me an English Whore, he kicked me, tied me up
and whipped me and then buggered me.  I don't mind being had that way, in
fact I usually like it.  But I don't think he was doing it for pleasure,
just trying to hurt me and make me ashamed.  He's a pig, and I don't like
him.'

   'None of us do.  But luckily there's a lot of boys here.  As well as
those in this part of the Palace, there's another lot somewhere else,
according to the servants, so with about twenty boys we don't get to see
him much.  He whips boys because that's the only way he can get it up again
after he's cum the first time.  And he has to do it twice as he cums so
quick the first time that he can't even get it in you before it spurts. 
That's why he's so nasty I think.  But his army love him because he makes
them rich and gives them girls and boys.  Best is the srvants.  there's
probably probably about thirty of them and they are all built like the one
you've seen, and they are all lovely in bed.  When three or four come down
to the playroom together there's real fun and games...  The boys here all
love sex.'

   'They all look nice.  But where do you think my clothes are?  I should
get dressed as the car will come for me soon I'm sure: I'm not supposed to
be out too late.  My Daddy will be waiting for me for my good-night kiss.'

   'Car?  I don't get it.....'

   'I came in a limousine, but I expect it will be a taxi back....usually
is.'

   'Where do you think you are, Cecil?'

   'I reckoned we must be in one of those big country houses in Surrey, or
perhaps Berkshire.....'

   'Oh dear.  You'd better come with me a minute....'

   He led our little boy to a tall door and opened it.  Both stepped out
into sunlight, but a terrible moist heat after the cool of the air
conditioning.  And there was a smell on the air, like mushrooms, or
decaying vegetation.  Benjie closed the door behind them.  'Where do you
think you are now?'

   'I've never seen anywhere like this.  It almost looks like jungle, like
on the television.'

   'It is, Cecil.  This is The Peoples Republic of Matalanga, or rather
that bit of it that belongs to The General and his army.'

   The jungle stretched like an ocean of green for miles.

   'There's no road into this place....  The General's Palace....  The only
way in and out is by helicopter so we're here until The General gets fed up
with us.....probably when we're about fifteen they say.'

   'Oh my God!  I've been kidnapped....'

   'We all have.  On the other hand it's a cozy life, with games.  There's
a gym and swimming pool we can use three days a week....  the other days
are for the other room and we don't ever meet them.  There's computer
games, surfing the net, television.  and of course all the sex you could
ever want.  Beats Peckham, I think.

   'I can see buses, there right at the horizon....'

   There was a scar in the jungle, just within eye-sight, a red gash, with
grey streaks.  The boy could just make out yellow vehicles moving.

   'That's the diamond mines: they aint buses: they're huge lorries about
ten miles away.  And behind that is the army camp.  The mines are why The
Ggeneral is so rich and can have so many boys, and the army is to stop any
of the other warlords around here taking it all from him'.

   'It's too hot out here.' The black see-thru nylon was sticking to his
skin.  they turned and went back into the cool of their gilded cage.



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