a story by etinenne

[odanny dannyo]

Sailor, Beware!
A story by Etienne
 You can’t be too careful in a place like Oman. But by  
 the time their ship docked in the isolated port city of 
  Salalah, Jake and Cal were so horny from their long 
  stretch of enforced celibacy at sea that they threw 
   caution to the winds and decided to go ashore to prowl 
  for some native pussy.
   Their tour of exotic bars eventually led them to the El 
   Yanqui, the sleaziest and most notorious of the 
   waterfront dives. Perhaps the two young sailors hadn’t  
 been warned of the place’s questionable reputation;  
 perhaps they didn’t see the signs posted outside  
  identifying the bar as off-limits to U.S. military 
  personnel. More likely the two buddies were so drunk 
  on unfamiliar native liquor by the time they reached El 
   
Yanqui that it wouldn’t have made any difference  
 anyway.
    Had their powers of observation been a little less 
 clouded by the alcohol they might have noticed the 
way their bartender, a huge muscular brute named
Ahmed, studied them so intently through narrowed eyes, mentally undressing them. They might have 
wondered at the expression on his face, so like  the 
 appraising look of a horse trader who is evaluating and 
 examining horseflesh at market. They might even have 
  gotten suspicious when Ahmed surreptitiously 
  sprinkled some strange-looking  powder into their 
   drinks.
  Unfortunately, they noticed none of these things, so 
 that when the drugged drinks finally took effect, Jake and didn’t know what hit them.
As soon as the two Americans succumbed to the powerful drug, Ahmed shooed out his only other 
 customers, a few evil-looking natives who obligingly 
 departed, grinning conspiratorially, obviously well 
  aware of Ahmed’s intentions. One even went so far as  
  to comments as he went out the door, “You’ll get a  
 good price for this pair, Ahmed.”
 After locking the door, the muscular bartender bound 
 the drugged swabbies with sturdy ropes and gagged 
 them with strips torn from their own T-shirts. Effortlessly, he slung the trussed-up captives, one over each shoulder like two sides of beef, and carried
them down into the cellar where their cries upon awakening would not be heard by passers-by.
 
In the dark and damp basement, the grinning Arab surveyed his prisoners with a practiced eye. It was
apparent that the tight white uniforms covered exceptionally fine, ripe young bodies. The Sultans would
pay well for such a pair as this!
 
Knowing the drug would soon wear off, Ahmed cut short his gloating and untied Jake and Cal in order to
chain each of them to a rough stone pillar, arms stretched overhead, feet dangling a few inches off the floor.
 
By the time he had finished chaining his prisoners, both sailors had regained consciousness. When they had
recovered from the initial shock at finding themselves in such a bizarre situation, they began to shout curses
and threats at their captor, fear and anger having successfully erased their previous drunkenness. Ahmed
blithely ignored their yelling and cursing, and proceeded to methodically strip his two prizes.
 
The Arab roughly ripped the uniforms off the
suspended, snarling seamen, and as each new
square inch of flesh was exposed to the dim
light of the flickering candle that was the
cellar’s sole illumination, Ahmed’s grin became
wider. Here was perfection beyond his wildest
hopes. Thickly muscled arms, wide shoulders
and broad firmly-developed chests, adorned
with delicious brown nipples and a sprinkling of
delicate hairs; crisp, black wisps on Jakes chest
and a golden thatch that matched his crew cut
nestled between Cal’s sweet nipples. The bellies
were hard and chiseled, and the asses were like
perfect melons. The two sets of cocks and balls
dangling from nests of musky crotch hair were
plump and juicy, fleshy jewels of mouth-watering beauty.
 
The sight of the two fresh-faced, handsome
American sailors, naked and helpless, was more
than Ahmed could bear. His massive horse-cock
began to stir in his trousers, stretching and
lengthening and stiffening into a club of
tremendous girth and power. He longed to
plunge his rampant tool up into the hard-muscled ass of either sailor. It made no
difference which one: the called Jake with his
cleft chin and movie-star good looks, or the
square-jawed, All-American Cal with his crew cut hair and his glowing California tan. Either hunky body
would serve equally well to satisfy the hunger in his Arab loins.
 
And yet he knew it would be foolish to use one of the American sailors to satisfy his lust. If he could sell
them as virgins they would command a much higher price from prospective buyers. A few more minutes of
pleasure now, although admittedly blissful, would dramatically lower his prisoners’ market value.  
 
Frustrated and angry, the muscular Arab bartender
vented his fury on the two sailors. He attached Cal’s
and Jakes pricks together with a short length of chain
that pulled the two fuck-sticks out, stretching them
painfully and causing the cursing swabbies to arch
their hips forward in an attempt to slacken the taut
chain that connected the two shafts. The sailors’ curses
soon changed to screams as Ahmed began to
administer a stinging lashing with a heavy whip,
striking first one, then the other.
 
As the screaming buddies twisted and thrashed and
bucked, vainly trying to escape the whip’s burning
kisses, their jerking spasms tugged and pulled at the
chain that linked their cocks. Painful though it was,
neither could refrain from thrashing about in response
to the whipping.
 
To further humiliate his helpless victims, Ahmed
pulled out his turgid dick and doused the whip-marked
bodies of the two American seamen with a stream of
Arab piss.
 
Instead of dampening his lusts, however, the sadistic play served only to further inflame the aroused Arab
brute. Ahmed’s huge cock was as stiff as a bar of iron, the purplish, knobby head of it leaking copious
dribbles of pre-cum. He felt as if  the rigid pole would
burst in an explosion of gristle and jism if he didn’t
ram it into some hot, clutching asshole soon. In a blind,
rutting frenzy, hardly aware of what he was doing, the
lust-crazed bartender unfastened the cock-chain and,
selecting Cal as the lucky recipient of his boiling
sperm, he took the firm, shapely globes of the blonde
sailor’s butt in both hands and lifted the succulent
buns, spreading Cal’s thighs to expose the as-yet
unviolated pink, hair-rimmed asshole.
 
Stepping in between the splayed thighs, he positioned
the slimy tip of his brown, heavily-veined cudgel to
Cal’s tiny, puckered opening.
 
Cal’s baby-blue eyes widened and a look of disbelief
came across his face as he realized Ahmed’s intentions.
 
“NO... NO...” he screamed, “DON’T... NO...
PLEASE... OH, GOD... DON’T...” He bucked his ass
trying to get away from the prick-tip pressed against
his virgin hole, but the Arab’s big, ham-like hands held
the American’s hips firmly in place. 
 
From the other pillar, Jake had a ringside seat to witness the smashing of his buddy’s asshole cherry. Jake
gasped as he saw Ahmed’s club plow into Cal’s butt like a pile-driver ramming into butter. He could hear
the moist “slurp” it made as it plowed into the guts of the screaming blonde sailor. He could see Cal’s face
screwed up in agony, tears squeezing out from the tightly scrunched eyes, humiliation mixed with the pain.
He could hear Cal’s sobs, gasps, screams and whimpers, and the squishing, slurping, sloshing of Ahmed’s
stiff juicer drilling in and out—in and out—in and out of the thrashing sailor’s rectum like some implacable
piston rod. He saw Cal’s piss-drenched body twisting and squirming as he tried unsuccessfully to raise
himself off the thick, swarthy pole upon which he was impaled.
 
It was horrible to watch! It was disgusting! And yet it was the most exciting thing Jake had ever seen.
 
Powerless to prevent it, Jake felt his own dick thicken into a throbbing boner. And when Ahmed’s
clenching butt muscles signaled that he was shooting his load into Cal’s plowed-open asshole, Jake’s cock
responded by ejaculating a hefty load of his own ball-juice with such force that the slimy globs shot clear
over to land with loud splatters at Ahmed’s feet.
 
After a week had passed, Cal’s asshole regained some
of its elasticity and he was able to get his thighs back
together again. The whip-marks on his and Jake’s firm
young bodies had all but disappeared. They had no way
of knowing how much time had gone by, for they had
been kept locked up in the cellar, chained to the stone
pillars. Having gotten his rocks off inside Cal, their
Arab captor seemed to lose any further sexual interest
in his captives, and so Cal and Jake were mercifully
spared any repeats of the brutal rape that had occurred
the first day of their captivity.
 
Ahmed would have preferred waiting until the whip-marks on the sailors had completely vanished before
arranging the auction, but he realized that the U.S.
Navy would be investigating the disappearance of two
of its seamen, and that postponing the sale any longer
could prove dangerous. So it was that only seven days
after they had landed in Salalah, Cal and Jake found
themselves stripped naked, standing on wooden blocks
to which they were securely chained, surrounded by a
sinister crowd of burnoosed figures, about to be
auctioned off to the highest bidder!
 
Although the sale was conducted in a language neither of the sailors understood, it was evident from the
spirited bidding and the passionate shouts and arguing that the crowd was appreciative of the quality of the
merchandise that was displayed on the auction blocks.
 
Like any good auctioneer, Ahmed allowed the customers to inspect the goods at close range, and they all
took advantage of the opportunity to poke and prod into Cal’s and Jake’s most private and intimate orifices.
The sailors had to submit to having fingers jammed into their mouths, prying open their jaws to allow close
inspection of their teeth, like dumb animals at market. They blushed beet-red at having to bend over
double, spreading their ass-cheeks with their hands in order that the crowd could better check out their butt
holes, most inspectors not satisfied until they had drilled a fat finger or two up into the Navy shit-chutes.
The inserted fingers would then be twisted with a corkscrewing motion to determine the slickness of the
rectum, or spread apart to test the elasticity and “clutch’ of the asshole.
 
Flushed with embarrassment and shame, Jake and Cal fumed but obeyed when ordered to open their
mouths wide, stick out their tongues and wiggle them to show the audience what additional pleasures
would be available to the one fortunate enough to purchase them.
 
They dared not refuse any of the demands Ahmed required of them, no matter how humiliating or
degrading, for the clever Arab had informed his prisoners earlier that if they were so rash as to show any
resistance, they would be summarily castrated! A pair of ball-less sailors would fetch just as high a price on
the market, they were informed, and indeed some Sultans preferred their merchandise delivered “nutless.”
In his country, Ahmed emphasized, the gelding of male slaves was not an unheard-of custom.
 
To demonstrate his point, the crafty Arab had arranged to have a scrawny Moroccan youth be dragged to
the cellar by some accomplices, and before the horrified eyes of the chained American sailors, the fellow
had apparently been deballed! Cal and Jake had no way of knowing that it had been nothing more than an
elaborate hoax, staged by local actors, a phony knife, some chicken blood and a set of severed nuts taken
from a young goat.
 
However, neither Cal nor Jake caught on to the deception and, firmly believing that their precious gonads
would be clipped off unless they “behaved,’ they opted for complete, albeit silently furious, obedience.
 
The auction in the cellar of the El Yanqui bar concluded when
Cal and Jake were bought, as a pair, by a man representing the
Sultan of a remote desert kingdom. The buyer suggested
that, for a generous fee, Ahmed might consider
undertaking the task of delivering the newly purchased
merchandise to the Sultan.
Ahmed agreed willingly, and that night a small caravan
secretly left Salalah, crossed the Oman border and headed
across the sands to the interior.
It was the beginning of a long and difficult journey for Cal
and Jake.
 
After many days travel, the caravan finally reached its destination, the rich desert kingdom of the Sultan in whose name the young sailors had been purchased. The captives were brought into the palace courtyard and “prepared” for the pleasure of their new owner.

The Sultan, Askander the Magnificent, possessed a cock of such
gigantic proportions that it was necessary to “open up” the assholes of his new sex slaves in order for them to
accommodate his royal tool without being
ripped apart! To achieve this “opening up,” thick
butt-plugs and huge jeweled dildos were
inserted into Cal’s and Jake’s tight assholes and
manipulated and rotated by hand all day long.
That evening, with the largest and thickest of
the butt-plugs still embedded in their
stretched-out assholes, the two moaning sailors were bound to posts in the courtyard where they remained
until morning.
 
The next day, with their loosened ass-lips
gaping like pink O’s, Jake and Cal were
presented to their new Master. The Sultan,
Askander the Magnificent, was an awesome
figure of a man, swarthy and panther-like, as
handsome and muscular as a god and fully
deserving of the appellation “Magnificent.”
He wore jeweled tit-clamps from which
ropes of perfect pearls draped around his
gleaming torso. His gauze harem pants were
cut open in front to reveal a massive staff of
throbbing man-meat standing erect and
pulsing, a monstrous slab of rigid royal meat.
 
The exotic potentate smiled slowly as he
regarded his two new “toys,” admiring the
perfection of their generously endowed,
tanned young bodies. His agent had selected
well; Askander was pleased with the
purchase!

At a signal from the rugged monarch, three
of the palace guards tied Cal and Jake
together, back to back. By positioning Jake
on all fours and lifting Cal’s legs, Askander
had easy access to both assholes which were
only a few inches apart from each other. It
was like having a fuck-beast with two
available assholes.
 
Tied securely with his buddy beneath him,
his legs hooked over the Sultan’s shoulders,
Cal snarled defiantly as he felt the Arab
ruler’s ruler probe at his stretched and
tender asshole. “Shit,” he growled to
himself, “Not again... not another fucking!”
He recalled, with a sinking sensation in his
gut, how Ahmed had reamed out his ass
what seemed like a lifetime ago.
 
But of course there was no way for Cal to
stop the arrogant Askander from doing
anything he wanted with the All-American
boy’s asshole. And what the Sultan wanted
was to plunge his cock deep within Cal’s
slimy, steamy bowels, banging the
tumescent tube from side to side while the blonde sailor grunted under the brutal assault like a stuck pig.
 
Beneath them, Jake could feel the jarring and thumping as the potent potentate banged his buddy’s bung.
“Poor Cal,” the dark-haired sailor thought to himself, “But hell... better him than me. Those fuckin’ dildos
were bad enough!” He didn’t mind at all serving as the “table” on which the Sultan reamed out “Poor Cal.”
Shit, he’d even hold Cal down for the screwin’ if it would save his own ass.
 
But no sooner had this thought formed itself in Jake’s mind than Askander pulled his fuck-club from Cal’s
squishy hole and, without missing a stroke, rammed all eleven-and-a-half hot inches hilt-deep into Jake’s
unprotected sea-pussy.
Jake let out a yell that shook the palace rafters and fell forward flat on his belly. A couple of the guards
stepped in and lifted him back into position, Askander all the while never missing a stroke of his demonic
fucking. Jake was sure his ass had been split open. Those goddamned dildos had been child’s play
compared to this!
 
His screams gradually subsided into sobs and finally to whimpers as the burning pain eased up and melted
into an erotic warmth that felt almost pleasant. This seemed to be the signal Askander had been waiting for.
Now that both asses had gotten accustomed to his super-sized cock, he commenced an alternating fuck,
sliding easily from one asshole to the other, one or two strokes in Cal’s rectum, then switching to Jake’s
shit-chute for a few strokes, then Cal’s again and then back to Jake’s. On and on and on for what seemed
like hours. 

The guards applauded their sovereign’s
lusty performance and cheered loudly when
he finally emptied his royal balls into Jake’s
ravaged, dripping hole. They cheered again
when, a few moments later, he emptied a
second load into Cal’s guts. By the time
Askander had finished fucking, dawn was
breaking over the desert sands and the
guards cheered themselves hoarse.
 
In the months that followed, the two
handsome young American sailors were
given many duties to perform. They
occasionally were put to work in the
Sultan’s fields where one or the other would
be harnessed to a primitive plow and used as
a beast of burden while his partner steered
the plow and handled the reins. The overseer
was a particularly nasty fellow and delighted
in using his whips on his “farm animals.”
 
At other times Askander used Cal and Jake
to satisfy his frequent sadistic urges. The
Sultan was very inventive when it came to
devising ingenious games, and has an
extensive collection of toys and devices with
which to implement his fertile imagination. In time, the
young sailors, much to their surprise, found themselves
beginning to almost enjoy their sessions with the
muscular, handsome Sultan, and to look forward to
servicing his magnificent oiled and scented body.
 
And so the years went by. Cal and Jake became thoroughly
“broken-in” as the Sultan’s favorite sex toys. They learned
to suck his cock and lick out his hairy ass; they slurped out
his moist armpits upon command, and lapped his toes
with their tongues. There wasn’t an inch of his thickly-muscled body that they hadn’t tasted hundreds of times. They gave their asses without argument or resistance, to be fucked and fisted and rammed full of dildos and Ben-Wah balls
and all sorts of strange devices. In time, it
became increasingly difficult to remember
clearly their previous lives as U.S. Navy
seamen. They were harem sex slaves now,
and their sole purpose in life was to service
the spectacular cock and muscled body of
their magnificent Master.
 
Epilogue
 
But all things, good and bad, come to and
end. After four years of harem service, the
two American sailors took stock of their
situation and realized that they missed their
homeland. They made a daring escape from
the Sultan’s palace and, enduring extreme
hardships, crossed the desert on foot to Abu
Dhabi where they were rescued by fellow
Navy men.
 
Today they are back in the good ol’ U.S. of
A. where their life as harem sex slaves is
only a dim and hard-to-believe memory. But
their four-year-long desert adventure altered
the course of their entire lives. These two
once-straight jocks are now quite different
from what they were prior to their trip to Salalah. Jake broke off his engagement to his high school
sweetheart, Linda Sue Barrett, moved to San Francisco and is currently employed as a high-priced stud for
a classy call-boy service that caters to wealthy and influential homosexuals. Through the money and
influence of his tricks, he was able to acquire a piece of choice Folsom Street property which he turned into
a raunchy and very successful gay bar.
 
Cal bought himself a motorcycle and a whole wardrobe of sexy leathers, fucked his way through a string of
lovers coast to coast, also ending up in San Francisco where he developed into one of the wildest “bottoms”
of this or any decade. He has become a porno superstar and has appeared to great acclaim in a number of
Falcon Studios’ hottest fuck videos.
 
He and Jake still see each other regularly, have recently moved in together and are considered by many to
be one of California’s hunkiest twosomes.
 
The End

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