by Mark Andrews
I kept wiggling therefore but Tareef just judged my movements and delivered his strokes accordingly. This final dozen or so were much more painful than the first set for by now my gluteal muscles had begun to bruise and the fresh blows were agonisingly painful. Even if I had had a mind to keep still, it would have been impossible and this they undoubtedly were well aware of, adding to the likelihood of my ‘conceiving’ (or whatever you want to call it) the little embryo puppies.
After that, Masoud and his father and friends lost interest in me, rose and left as a group while Tareef proceeded to release me from the two pillories and the belt and then gesture to me to come out of the frame, climb down the steps to the stage and submit to being leashed once more.
Perhaps you cannot imagine how difficult it is to negotiate what to a fully-legged human is child’s play. Going up or down stairs, for example. Try it. Get down on your hands and knees and see how you go. It’s not impossible, but it isn’t easy, either, is it? Then, imagine trying to get up onto a bed. Remember, we were now of the stature of a dwarf. Our heads came up to the height of the bed’s mattress. The only way we could manage it was to lay our arms out across the bed and then use our arm and shoulder muscles, coupled with our thighs and the paws on their ends, to climb on. Mind you, all the exercises we did in the gym had made our muscles strong and very, very limber. We could not only hoist huge weights above our heads, but move our limbs into positions you wouldn’t believe. We had to, in order to be able to get around and do the things a normal human does without a second thought.
Tareef led me back to the gym and for the rest of that day, I was put on mind and body-numbing routines that kept my whole body moving at a frenetic pace, all part of the Arabian idea of child-bearing, or, in this case, puppy-bearing.
Up to that time, I had not seen any eunuchs among the slaves...
I had seen the groins of some of the harem eunuchs, of course, Ondoka and some of the other trainers who were also eunuchs. I mentioned at the beginning of this tale that they were totally neutered. This I understand is rare, normally only the testicles and sac are removed. Waleed and his son demanded their eunuchs be fully castrated, however, so that they weren’t able to penetrate a harem slave. But to this point, all of the male kennels-slaves, the human dogs, were all whole.
The operations performed on the harem eunuchs however had been performed as a regular surgical procedure by the Vet (who was of course a properly qualified surgeon in real life). We were to discover another level in the depths of depravity to which these horrible men had descended.
We were in the gym at training one morning when Waleed and Masoud strolled in, moving up close to watch as a young black human dog was exercising on the parallel bars. He was as muscular as his female counterpart Melanie and he had a magnificent set of genitals poking out of his groin - as naked of hair as all the rest of us.
“Yes,” observed Masoud to his father, not aware that any of us could understand Arabic, “He has to be the one.” He paused a moment and then went on. “I hope this procedure works as well as Dr Ragheb says it will. The old cutting and sewing has been proven. Do you think this will be as good, Father?”
“We can only take his advice, my son. He thinks it will work and be less traumatic so that the slave’s training is not interrupted. But look, here he is.”
I watched in some trepidation as the Vet approached with his usual little bag. He wasn’t scrubbed and gowned and so I wondered what it was they were going to do to the handsome black boy. I wasn’t long in finding out.
The Vet fished in his bag and drew out a gleaming surgical instrument that resembled a pair of high-grade pliers - but wasn’t. Meanwhile two trainers had moved up to the muscular black boy and had gestured for him to come down off the bars. As he did, they grabbed him by an arm each and marched him up to where the three Arabs were standing.
The doctor had also brought out a flesh-coloured rubber ring which was rather small in diameter but clearly made of very sturdy material, the thickness of the ring itself being about three millimetres.
He slipped this over the four prongs of the instrument which he explained to his two listeners was called an elastrator. I went cold with fear. I knew what an elastrator was. It is used by farmers to geld male lambs and calves. Was that what they were going to do to this so well set-up young man?
The Vet laid the instrument down on the table (with the ring still in place over the end of its curved prongs) and took out a long steel tube enclosed in an antiseptic plastic envelope.
I was working on a weight machine nearby and could both see and hear everything that was said. I went cold as the doctor told Waleed and Masoud that this tube would act as a catheter to enable the slave to pass his water while the ring performed its function.
Oh God, I thought. They are going to geld him but they’re going to take his penis as well as his testicles. They are going to make him like Ondoka and the other eunuchs!
I still didn’t let on that I understood what was being said, however. If I had, there was still nothing I could do to save the poor boy from his castration but then I wondered why they were going to do it at all. I had understood they liked to see a male human-dog’s genitals swinging openly as he raced around the track on his four pins or worked out here in the gym.
Masoud answered my silent question as if I had asked it directly. “I wonder, Father, if it will really improve his time?”
“It does with horses, Masoud. Anyway, it’s only an experiment. If it doesn’t help this dog, we won’t bother trying it with any of the others, will we?”
Masoud still seemed doubtful and I suddenly realised he liked this boy’s huge cock and heavy testicles. Waleed sensed his doubt and encouraged him further. “Remember, my son, you have already had a replica made from a cast prepared from the boy’s member and you also have a copy preserved in their erect state in a plexiglass cube beside your bed ...”
The young Arab grinned. “Of course, Father. Let us proceed.”
The Vet nodded and lifted the young black’s penis in one hand, feeding the metal catheter right up his urethra until it all but disappeared. What I hadn’t noticed though was that there was a small hook welded to the outside at the very end of the tiny tube. When the doctor pushed the tube further into his penis, the slit closed over this hook. The Vet used a pair of forceps to grasp the end of the tube and draw it back. As it emerged, the hook embedded itself into the underside of his glans penis, thus preventing the catheter from coming out any further.
Of course the boy struggled in the arms of the two muscular trainers and he screamed as the inner lining of his urethra was grazed by the catheter. But he really let fly when the barbed hook pierced the sensitive flesh at the tip of his penis, struggling powerfully and roaring out in his pain so that everyone in the gym stopped and stared. I wondered they had done this so openly until I realised they wanted us all to see what was happening to the poor black boy.
Once satisfied with the catheter, the Vet again took up the elastrator and while Masoud held the slave’s genitals out from his naked groin, Dr Ragheb exerted pressure on the two handles so that the powerful rubber ring was expanded enough to fit over his total genital package, scrotal sac and also his penis. He made sure he pushed the instrument right down to the boy’s groin, telling Masoud to pull the organs hard out from his body so that he could seat the ring as close to the groin as possible.
Only then did he release the instrument, at which the ring slid off the four prongs, embedding itself around the root of his penis and scrotal sac and disappearing from sight. The two trainers then let him down and released his arms and he immediately felt down at his groin to try and dig out the immensely strong ring of rubber.
Masoud, his father and the Vet watched his efforts in amusement. “Go on, boy, try. You will find you cannot even feel the ring, let alone pull it off. No, it is there for the durati
on - until your penis and testicles rot from lack of blood and fall off your body. You will then be as much a gelding as my eunuchs,” said Waleed, “and with considerably less trouble.”
I stared at the boy’s groin in dismay. Already his penis was swollen, its flesh straining against the skin and his scrotal sac also seemed to be filling with some liquid.
“No matter,” said the Vet. “That is quite normal. It’ll be painful for him for a while but then, as the nerves fail, sensation will go ...”
“How long before they all drop off?” asked Masoud.
“Oh should be anything from one to two weeks. But I’ll come by every day or so and check on the progress. In the meantime, keep him at it. As hard a work as you can find for him ...”
Chapter 6
It didn’t take very long before I began to feel the puppies forming inside my body.
The gestation period for dogs is only two months, as you will be well aware and so in only a fortnight I started to feel movement and other strange sensations down there; feelings a mother normally only experiences after a few months into her term.
I also began to feel another weird feeling ... A feeling towards the tiny puppies growing inside me. Love! Yes, truly. How could that be, you ask? I don’t have the slightest idea. It is grotesque I know, that a human mother could possibly feel love towards very unwanted dog puppies forcibly impregnated into her womb! And yet that is what I felt. I suspect it is a part of our human psyche that a mother loves her child, no matter how monstrous it might be - and what could be more monstrous than forcing a human woman to carry and bear canine puppies?
And, despite my maternity, they did exactly as the doctor ordered. They put me to an even more rigorous training than before. I have researched Arabian forms of slavery and of the way they treat their womenfolk generally since coming home and have discovered they strongly believe a mother, whether she be free or slave, should work physically hard throughout her pregnancy, indeed right up to her dropping the baby(ies).
They certainly did that to me, even adding a new exercise to the list I was already performing in my gym sessions. Everybody has heard of galleys - and galley-slaves? I’ll bet you didn’t know they still exist?
No, not really. At least not as floating vessels on water, but this was a new fetish of the sadistic monsters who owned us and I and eleven other slave-dogs were now taken to a part of our cellars where we had all heard a lot of banging and other noises although none of us slave-dogs knew what it was all in aid of.
We soon found out.
Unusually, our front paws and tails were all removed before we left our kennels. This was strange indeed for thus far, we had never been allowed to take them off (or out) except for defecation and the Vet’s inspection of our stumps.
The room was about twelve feet wide and twenty long, or at least the parts of it we could see were. It had been got up as a true replica of the slave deck of a real galley. There were three rows of benches on either side of a raised corridor that ran the length of the room. Each bench was able to take two slaves and since each of us was legless, they had fitted a pair of leather straps to the fronts of each seat that would go over our thighs and hold us in position.
To further anchor our bodies to the benches, just behind these straps, short, ninepin-shaped steel dildos had been bolted. The knob on the top of these was about two inches wide, then narrowed down to one. But then it swelled out again to the lower part of the ninepin and was about two and a half inches across. I paled as I looked at these monsters for I knew exactly what they were for and where they were going.
Over each bench rested the oar handle. They disappeared into a hole in the wall and I could just see a mechanism that indicated each of the oars on one side were connected together, presumably operating some machinery or other.
The décor was very realistic. The ‘deck’, walls and roof of the room were got up in real timbers that made it look like an authentic ancient galley and it was lit with kerosene lamps that sat in sconces in the walls or dangled from the roof.
The twelve of us selected to test this new humiliation were now made to crawl on our hands and knees (as always) up the centre aisle while the overseer here, yet another huge black man who wore nothing but a sort of leather skirt around his hips and a pair of leather sandals on his feet (which displayed his magnificent body to a tee), allocated us to the various positions.
His assistant waited down in the waist of the first starboard oar bench and easily lifted the girl onto the outboard dildo. Although the girth of its knob and the lower part were much bigger than our tails, the dildos that held them inside our bodies had constantly worked our anal sphincters so that they were well able to stretch the extra little bit without too much pain, although as her body settled down onto the widest part of the ninepin I saw her wince visibly. He then buckled the belts over her muscular thighs and locked her wrists to the chains attached to the oar handle in front of her.
Her partner was a handsome young Thai boy and he too was similarly impaled and strapped in. Each of us in turn was allocated a place and I was pleased to see that my partner was Morinaga, the handsome Japanese boy who was going to sire Melanie’s forced slave brood.
As he was placed on the bench beside me, impaled on the huge dildo and his thigh straps fastened, I glanced down at his penis. It was a veritable giant and it was already partially erect. I looked up at him and was shocked to see a look of adoration in his eyes as he smiled at me. Fortunately, the overseer and the masters who had come to watch this trial ‘voyage’ had moved on up the aisle and he got away with it but it made me wonder.
I hadn’t thought of any of the males there as partners, or even as boyfriends. I had been too engrossed in my trials and tribulations to even think along those lines, but in any case, we appeared to be there for the rest of our lives and there was no future in speculating about any of the boys there in that way.
But Morinaga’s expression had awakened such thoughts in my mind and while I smiled back at him, my mind was in a whirl of the possibilities. He was handsome all right. Perhaps the most good-looking of any Japanese boy I had ever seen and that race is noted for good looks.
His body was also utterly beautiful. His muscles and indeed his whole physique were perfect. Not too big; not too puny. Just the right size and wonderfully articulated, that is to say, you could discern each one separately. His skin was also perfect and I suddenly ached to reach out and stroke its smooth softness and feel the hardness of his fine muscles.
I also wanted that big dick inside me!
I am a wanton slut? You bet, but with all the aphrodisiacs and other conditioning tools they had used on all of us, we all were. We had been kept totally chaste, male as well as females, except for the very rare times the trainers were allowed to rape us in the proper way instead of up our backsides; or when our masters decided to use us for their pleasure, as Masoud had done to me that time. But these occasions were rare and while we were kept artificially randy all the time, we were very rarely allowed to satisfy those lusts.
I knew it of course and I think Morinaga did too, but I was able to separate my rational mind from the lust and examine my real feelings and I was astonished to discover that I really liked this boy, even if I hadn’t even spoken a word to him.
Anyway, I was really pleased to have him on my oar and sitting next to me.
Once every one of us twelve slaves, six girls and six boys, were seated on the dildos and belted and chained to the benches and oars, the overseer explained what we were going to have to do: “You will row,” he began. There wasn’t a sound from a single one of us to this fatuous statement. We all knew more was coming.
“You will row in time with each other for the machinery to which the oars are attached will ensure that but the drum beat will also guide your strokes. You will also row as hard as you know how. I and my assistant will be walkin
g up and down the aisle for the whole period of your rowing session and the slightest sign of slackness will earn ... this,” and he unfurled a whip he had been carrying coiled up in his right hand.
It sent shudders of fear through all of us, Morinaga and me included. It was one of those black, oily things sometimes called a snake (for its resemblance to that creature) but is more commonly called a bullwhip. He cracked it in the air above his head and every one of us slaves shuddered in fear and some cried out as they imagined the crack landing on their flesh.
“Begin!” he screamed.
All of the oar handles were in a central position over our thighs and we now pulled back on them, noting that they did indeed all move in unison with one another. I reasoned that if one of us slacked off, the rest would therefore pick up the load. What I didn’t know and didn’t find out for some time was that there were sensors attached to a computer hidden behind the fake walls of our galley deck and these sent readouts to a large screen that Chuki, the overseer uncovered after we had all been belted in place. A glance up at this told him how much effort was being applied to each oar handle and the lowest reading brought its pair of slaves a great deal of grief - his lash, or that of his assistant, to the straining backs of the hapless pair.
On that first stroke, we all realised how diabolical this toil was going to be. The travel of the oar handles had been designed so that we would be lying flat on our backs, our heads between the stumps of the slave behind us and the handle now right over our faces, before it stopped and started to move forward again. Then, as we now pushed hard on it (or suffered the lash if we didn’t), it moved further and further forward so that we were not only bent double over our muscular thighs, but were now reaching as far forward as our shoulders, arms and hands would stretch.
I realised this duty was yet another exercise designed to strengthen our muscles and make our bodies as limber and supple as they could get them. Yes, it was also to sate the jaded lusts of our master, as I could certainly testify as I stared up at them, those that had chosen to come down and watch this first foray into the stormy seas of our toil. All licked their lips as they stared down at our alternately stretched out and then doubled up bodies, all working in perfect unison, all beginning to sweat a little, gilding our flesh, be it white, copper, brown or black, with a patina that added to the beauty of the human body at work.
