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Peter considers himself a good slave owner.
He's keeping a household of 9 slaves, and the domain is running well, prosperous, back to it's former glory 10 years after the terrible events. The estate is selling the products of husbandry, horses, and fish, and now that the trees have regrown, a little bit of dried figs and fermented apple juice. As regarding to the harvest from the few remaining olive trees, the last old ones from before the fire, Peter keeps for his own oil.
Every morning, as the House wakes up to the crystalline trickling sounds of the fountain in the main inner courtyard, all slaves gather for the inspection. Right next to the statue of Venus, they stand in a row, naked in the chilly air of dawn, each chastity device gleaming in the rising sun. Peter slowly goes from one to the other, touching, checking for injuries or bruises, lifting balls and cock cages with the tip of his crop, kneading breasts and ass cheeks.
There is Stiles, young and nubile, who's babbling all the time, clever but respectful and very afraid of getting the lash. Stiles is Peter's favorite : He is perfect for lazy blowjobs. He loves cock so much, he's gagging for it, and his master loves indulging him. He’s taking Stiles everywhere with him, to have his mouth on the fly, so to speak. He has Stiles waiting in the palanquin ready to suck when Peter has to go in town to attend the senate or conduct administrative business.
Peter trained Stiles to enjoy anal orgasms too, and sometimes at home, if Stile has been really good, reclining on a couch, he lets him ride his cock to rub his prostate. Stiles always look lost to pleasure, nipples erect, in search for completion, desperate and sweaty, until finally his locked prick jumps and spurts and Stiles eyes cross with pleasure. When he's not serving him, clever Stiles oversees the care of the fish ponds and the stables.
There is Scotty as well, that he bought more recently. Well muscled and efficient for the labor in the fields. But Peter doesn't particularly like to fuck that, so he's mostly laboring in the fields all day, cock locked and long forgotten.
And then there is Isaac, svelte and tall adolescent body, delicious, mostly working in the fields and the orchards. That young body Peter likes to fuck hard from behind, mashing the slave face in any hard surface he decides to bend him over, with a shock of blond curly hair gripped hard in his fist, twisting one arm behind his back to pin him down. Isaac always shudders with pain at the first penetration, scrambling convulsively as his body surrenders. Isaac has just reached puberty. He's still uncomfortable with his body and his sexuality. Peter loves that he's obviously straight and doesn’t enjoy getting pounded and used like a woman.
Peter never uses enough oil, never stretches him enough. When he's impaled with Peter not inconsiderable girth, pink asshole well stretched and providing his master delicious friction, Peter enjoys unlocking his cage as he pounds the boy, to give his limp cock a few slaps, getting more shudders and pained whines.
But what Peter likes best is the boy's sac. Isaac's got a pair of rosy nubile testes, dropped only a few years ago, fuzzy with a bit of blond hair. The balls are still small and round and so, so sensitive. Peter loves to play with them for hours. Usually he secures the boy standing at attention in front of his bed, knees firmly opened with a spreader bar fixed to his bed, and a rope running from a ceiling wooden beam looped to his neck like a noose, and down his back securing his hands too, hands to elbows. With the right tension, Isaac is forced to keep his head slightly back and his chest out, and cannot bend forward without strangling himself. Head held high, he can see Peter's shape reclining on the bed in front of him, his head and shoulders but he can't track what Peter does below his pelvis.
Then Peter can lounge on his bed in front of the standing boy, imagining he's an incarnation of a Satyr, and the lovely ball sac is a ripe fruit ready to be plucked. Peter teases his slave's prick with glistening oil, rolls the foreskin, and jacks him with a firm grip forcing an erection.
When Isaac's prick is bobbing and flexing on the brink of orgasm, Peter take his time manipulating his balls, rolling, slapping and pulling, getting a whole range of noises, making the boy sing louder and louder, until he can't control his body anymore, reflexively bends forward on a harder pinch. When Peter slaps the sac to watch it bounce, Isaac moves his hips left or right uncontrollably, dancing around stinging slaps reflexively, each cry more and more shrill. Bows forward and choke himself each time Peter punches his nuts upwards with a closed fist.
"Look at me" Peter orders and Isaac look down, resentment, hate and defeat twirling in those naive blue eyes filled with tears, trembling lips, blond hair matted with sweat. "It hurts, it fucking hurts so much please Master" he babbles and Peter smiles at him as he takes his sac back in hand and rolls his testes slowly. Then with the other hand Peter massages his slave's cock, oils the cockhead, strokes and stokes the slit and this sensitive spot under the head until Isaac is at the brink again, begging incoherently.
When Peter wraps his hand around the whole sac, Isaac freezes in place. Peter squeezes and pulls like milking a cow, and Isaac flexes at the knees, trying to bear down, to follow, but is restrained by the rope from the ceiling. Peter twists the lovely nuts in his hand and slaps them hard and fast until he has Isaac bawling with pain, half hanging himself. Then Peter gets back to get his cock happy and hard. Then squeeze and slap until poor Isaac's balls are swollen and dark, hot to the touch.
Peter loves to fucks with the young boy's sexual responses, making him pant with pleasure then growl with pain, quiver in fear and pant in frustration. Peter is pretty sure with time he can make Isaac love cock, and love pain too.
Sometimes if Peter is happy with Isaac's progress, when his swollen balls have reached a deep shade of purple, he releases Isaac's left hand and orders him to reach completion. Isaac has to masturbate in front of his master, knees still opened by the spreader bar and neck still hanging from the ceiling. This is the only moment where Isaac is allowed release. In addition to the pain, Isaac doesn't care much for the humiliation and the wrong hand, and never gets there quickly. Which gives Peter plenty of time to wander, tickling his perineum, exploring his asshole with a finger, pinching the inside of his thighs, rubbing at his bruised sac. When the orgasm finally hits, the horrible pain of his balls sizing never fails to leave Isaac whining pitifully with each spurt of come.
Sometimes just as he hears his slave's increased breathing, hand flying over his prick, when his abs quiver, and his eyes close, telltale signs of Isaac tipping off into his release, Peter ruins him with a well aimed upwards fist, crushing his slave's balls hard against the pelvic bone. The pain makes Isaac whole body bend and choke himself hard with the rope, stomach heaving, the rising bile get stuck in his crushed trachea, open mouth choking and drooling saliva, his face red with the sudden strangulation, as his still hard cock leaks a weak dribble of come in slow spurts in Peter's hand.
Isaac, Peter thinks, is probably the one who resents the forced chastity the most. When he locks him back in, Peter always insists that Isaac gives formal thanks to his master, in details, thanks for the orgasm, for the pain and for the cage, then prostrate himself and kiss his feet, before he's on his way to the Orchards or to the fields.
Isaac always leaves walking slightly lame and hunched to avoid pressure on his privates.
Usually after a good session with Isaac, Peter is in need of release himself. For that he like to find Deaton. Deaton was captured at sea, imported from a country in the far east, where people have dark skin tone and dark eyes. Deaton knows how to keep the animals healthy with healing skills and knowledge of medicinal plants, and Peter favors him for it. But he also simply finds his dark olive skin lovely to enjoy and he wants to indulge in his beautiful body. He seeks Deaton in the Greenhouse, Deaton's domain, where he grows exotic plants and flowers requiring humidity and heat, or in the adjacent pharmacy, where Deaton dries plants and makes salves.
And when he finds him he disturbs him from his work with kisses, first light, then with plenty of lips and tongue, until Deaton is in the mood. Then he guides him to recline on a lounge, where they can undress and caress each other languorously, intimate skin on skin mutual massages, sleek with perfumed oils. Too often, as the gentle caresses become heated up, and as Deaton squeezes and strokes his master expertly, Peter can't resist opening his cage and let his slave beautiful cock unfurl. Peter loves the feel of Deaton's cock. They bring each other to mutual orgasm, Deaton hiding his face in Peter's neck, peppering his master's skin with grateful kisses after he spills.
Of course, the other slaves are aware of this, they murmur bitterly about the favouritism. This creates a bit of tension in the house, for sure, but as a slave who's allowed to come at least once a week in a house where the others just...don't, it also gives Deaton some form of de-facto authority, as status of sorts.