The Chastised Slave of New Mecca 2
Copyright© 2026 by Vanquished One
Chapter 4
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Jailed in the slave barracks adjacent to the slave market I along with my batch of freshly enslaved men are put through our paces by Arabian female guards and their Black male lackeys. I get a reprieve from the heavy labor when the sadistic Commandant took it upon himself to teach me what was expected sexually of slaves in New Mecca, a cyber-city in the heart of the Arabian desert. He proved that I was the slave most willing to embrace homosexuality if it meant doing less work.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Consensual NonConsensual Rape Slavery BiSexual Fiction BDSM DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Humiliation Sadistic Torture Interracial Black Male White Male Oriental Male Oriental Female Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Spitting
I sweat like crazy even under the morning sun as I strained under the weight of a sandbag which I had slung across my back. The weight forced me into a demeaning bent over posture. My naked body glisten with sweat, yet my layering of body fat obscured my muscles preventing me from impressing the female guards looking on. They laughed and taunted us slaves either hauling stones or sandbags across the grounds.
I felt conflicted by their presence—on one hand, it was nice to have something beautiful to look at in this otherwise horrid slave jail. However, being humiliated before attractive women heightened the humiliation. Your instinct would be to present yourself in the best light yet the opposite prevailed—they saw you at your most vulnerable and dominated, and on this occasion, I got humbled more than usual.
I forced myself to work harder than yesterday that got me punished. I hoped my pile of sandbags would look more impressive than yesterday’s pile of stones. However, I wouldn’t get the chance as the guard stopped me. “You are too behind, slave!” I stood hunched over and downcast as the guard inspected my work. My heart sank when she appeared unimpressed, still!
She scolded me that I wasn’t keeping up and there was no point for me continuing. “Stand on your pile and pleasure yourself as you watch the other slaves work—” I couldn’t believe what she was asking of me, but I despaired when the lackeys unlocked and slid off my chastity cage.
The heat couldn’t counteract the stress shriveling up my genitals, making them look more pathetically small than usual. Seeing the ladies made it all the more humiliating. I knew they were thinking how small my penis was when they turned to one another snickering.
I climbed to the top of the pile and did as ordered. I took some of my saliva and began stroking my small penis. I managed to coax it out, but it never got more than four inches. I did as commanded and gazed at the sweaty naked bodies of my fellow slaves working, and they also couldn’t help noticing me doing it. I fixated on their cocks and buttocks allowing myself to be turned on by the sight.
It was a struggle to remain standing and balance myself on the pile but I managed. I became increasingly shameless, pinching and tugging my own nipples to arouse myself more; it worked and I felt an orgasm coming—cum squirted out of my penis, landing on the sandbags and oozing onto my hand.
I nearly toppled over attempting to come off the sandbags and reach the turf. I stood there with my own cum soiling my penis and hand. The lackey complained at me about it when he had to slip my cage back on and lock it.
The guard clipped a chain to my chastity cage and led me to a T-shaped timber frame that had been pounded into the turf. I was pressed onto my knees with my back to the T-bar and bound to it; my arms were pulled up into a stress position and bent around the top of the T-bar. Out of despair, I drooped my head but looked up in dismay when a contraption was pushed over to me.
It had a timber frame that four ropes hung from. The four ropes met at a net. The lackeys, with devilish enthusiasm, placed a bulky sandbag in the net. Its mechanism became apparent as it was lined up with my stomach, and sure enough, the sandbag was pulled back and allowed to swing into my stomach with a thud that made my body want to keel over but being strung to the T-bar prevented me.
The pain went deep and I shaped to puke but had nothing to hurl—thud! I groaned and whined as my stomach ached and hurt. I gazed up at a skyscraper, juxtaposed above the old-fashioned walls, and thought what must the people in there think of this archaic spectacle—thud! I cried out in pain.
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