Arab stallion to pussy slave

A few days later, Akshay's grandfather left again. Manhor stood next to the airport taxi and had to kiss the old man goodbye touching the folds of the old man's lips with his own. To do this, the tall Arab had to bend down to the slender Indian and took his face between his massive palms. Somehow this position reminded of the title of a dime novel in which the strong sailor holds the petite bride in his arms. Only this was a frail, balding old man.

The weather got colder the next week as Akshay came home after work and put the heavy wool cloak in Manhor's arms, who obediently received his master like a house servant at the entrance and put the expensive Armani-coat, something Akshay never could have afforded, away in the cloakroom. An icy cold accompanied Akshay, Christmas was approaching, and he had hardly sat down on the sofa when the Arab knelt at his feet and carefully took off his shoes. Tenderly, without needing to be asked, he took his master's feet in his hands and rubbed them warm through the stockings. One by one he massaged the feet up to his ankles and smelled the scent of sweat being released from them and entering his nostrils. He looked questioningly at his Master, who understood the look and allowed him to lick his feet with a nod. With overzealousness the Arab threw his mouth on his right foot and sucked on the fabric of the stocking, got the tip of his toungue around the big toe in his mouth and clamped it between his teeth. With a strong pull he managed to pull the stocking off the foot. He chewed on the sweaty stocking for a few more seconds before dropping it out of his mouth and let Akshay's toes sink completely between his lips.

While the Arab cared for both feet with his warm wet mouth, licked each toe, stroked the soles of the feet with his tongue and nibbled at the heel of his masters foot, Akshay looked at the slave and smiled contentedly.

"I think it's time for a proper hair cut again!" he commented after almost half an hour. "I'm expecting guests for Christmas, and I want you to look appropriate! I guess I'll have to call Elmir again to come over! Or even better. We visit his son Adnan in his barber shop!”

Aksahy pulled his foot out of Manhor's sucking lips and walked into the kitchen, where he was talking on his cell phone. Manhor remained seated at the foot of the sofa, overhearing only a few words of the appointment. But he knew for best that he was not allowed to overhear his master. So he obediently waited for the Indian to come back. Surely the rest of his body was hypothermic too. He would like to take care of it, thoughts raced through his mind. And a few minutes later he actually found himself buried in Akshay's armpits, pecs and neck, where the skin was not cold but considerably sweaty and begging for a thorough cleaning!

Adnan had given them an appointment after work the very next day. The barber shop was not far from them and they could walk there. A cold wind hissed at them and Manhor was glad when the door closed behind them. The shop itself was furnished like a typical old barber shop in basic tones of black and dark brown leather. Various pictures of bearded models hung on the walls, very masculine-looking men of obviously mostly Arabic origin. The room seemed larger than it was due to the wide mirror surfaces. Apparently the last customer had been gone a long time ago because the floor was already sparkling clean without any hair leftovers.

“Welcome to Adnan!” they were greeted by a young Turk who looked like he was 14 years old, but whose build showed strong shoulders like a swimmer's under his white shirt. Dark brown eyes gleamed in the Turk's face between long black lashes and his lips were soft and full in his square jaw, which showed only a faint down of a light beard shadow. His forearms, however, were covered in black hair like a chimpanzee's and contrasted against the cuffs of his white shirt. “You booked a special?” And without waiting for the answer to his question, he opened a side door in the back wall and led Akshay and Manhor down a narrow basement staircase into a room that was initially only dimly lit by a flickering lightbulb. However, when he pressed a switch, several neon lights on the ceiling came on and flickered brightly. Manhor could see a kind of gynecologist's chair in the middle of the room. The walls were almost completely lined with mirrors, floor to ceiling, and when he was led to the chair in the center of the room, he could see his reflection duplicated a thousand times in all directions.

"Get undressed, I don't want to mess up your clothes with hair!" commanded the young Turk and watched Manhor strip down to his underpants, "Now sit down!"

Manhor sat in the chair and, after Adnan placed his legs in the footrests and had fastened them with straps, was given a black barber's cloak, which was placed around his neck, covering his body at least to the knees. He was ready for his haircut, despite the odd sitting position that had initially worried him. Interested, he looked around the room and enjoyed his reflection in the multiple reflections, so that he didn't notice how his wrists were fixed with straps on the armrests of the chair.

"Hey, I can hardly move!" he suddenly cried out, "In this position you can do whatever you want with me!"

"Who gave you permission to speak, slave!" Akshay scolded in a hissing sharp tone, "One more word and you'll go bald!"

Manhor pressed his lips together, after all he didn't want to lose his cool hairdo. In the mirror he saw the hairdresser change a clipper attachment on his machine and start the hairdresser, whose power supply dangled from the ceiling above him like in a laboratory.

BRRRRRRR came the growling sound behind the Arab.

"Full program?" Adnan reassured himself with Akshay.

"Well, make him a punk boy!" laughed the Indian. At that moment, he decided that his slave needed another stimulus. He would have to take another step in humiliation, and that involved the Arab's brother, Can. A mean grin slid across his face and the Indian's cock grew hard in his pants just at the thought of the perfidious plan.

The machine slid with a scraping sound over Manhor's left side head to the back of his head and he could see the first fat tuft of thick black hair falling down his upper body to the ground. In the mirror, he was horrified to see that the trimmer attachment must have been set to zero, because the mark the machine had made in his hair showed only skin, as if it were a firebreak after a bush fire. As Manhor contemplated the term punk boy, the machine continued to run down the sides and back of his head, and his hair fell. Adnan changed the attachment and cut a transition to the main hair. Adnan left the length of the hair from the forehead to the back of the head at around 15 cm and only cut the tips. Then he mixed a light creamy mass in a plastic pot and smeared it with a brush into the Arab's remaining dark strands, which stuck out from his head like a rooster's comb.

"This needs some time to take effect!" remarked the barber, "In the meantime we can take care of the rest."

Adnan had opened his shirt and revealed a hairy torso underneath. After letting the white shirt fall to the floor, he bent above Manhor, untied the cloak's bow and pushed it aside, revealing Manhor's hairy, muscular body. He lowered the black fabric to the floor and untied the straps on Manhor's wrists. He grabbed the hands, almost twice the size of his own, and placed them on the back of Manhor's head. His hairy chest only inches away from Manhor's face, the Arab too a deep whiff of Adnan's scent, a mixture of after shave and sweat.

“Okay, keep your hands there, rest and relax! What a man you are!" he said while swapping the attachment on the machine again, "So much muscle and so much hair, and yet you're lying here naked in my chair, having a kid cut your hair and getting a boner in the process!"

Manhor looked down and found that his cock was actually pointing stiffly up.

"But don't worry, I'm already at the end of sophomore year and 19!" Adnan added and started the machine, "Look how nice and smooth I make your hairy armpits, now they're just as hairless, not as manly as my teenage armpits! And all that thick hair on your chest, that'll be gone soon too! Do you feel the machine on your nipples? Brrrr, brrrr, yes, they get hard too, like your cock!"

The machine slid over Manhor's chest and under his other armpit, then back down to his belly button, exposing more and more of his skin. Silky dark tufts of his chest hair fell sideways to the floor. The attachment cut hair so short, even a wet shave couldn't be shorter. He watched in confusion, wondering when was the last time his body was this smooth and soft. It must have been when he was 13 or even younger. His body hair had started early and now Adnan visually pushed him back there. His cock twitched at the thought.

Suddenly the machine stopped. Adnan put it aside for a moment and began to undress further himself. His body was completely hairy, a dense bush around his cock of frizzy pubic hair wrapped around his cock from which Manhor could not take his eyes off. He was long and thick as a horse's cock, completely out of proportion to the boy, who was rather slim except for the broad shoulders. That cock wasn't hard yet, and it was already over eight inches long. The Arab's mouth watered and the machine started its journey over Manhor's torso again, while the boy's naked body kept touching him, tickling his arms and legs with the dark hair.

The Arab moaned and couldn't hold back. His right hand slipped from behind his head, first back onto the armrest, to then seek contact with the mighty cock and the full, bulging balls behind it. As if in a trance, the Arab began to knead and caress the shaft while the machine shaved his lower abdomen up to the base of his pubic hair.

When the upper body was shaved bald, Manhor saw the result in the mirror. Like the Minotaur, his chest was light and hairless, in linear contrast to his lower body, now even more animal-like with its black hair covered. Manhor wanted to get up to take a closer look at this picture, but Adnan pushed him back into the seat. However, even without the barber's pressure, the Arab would not have been able to get up, for he had forgotten that his feet were still strapped to the footrests. As a result, his legs were spread wide enough for Adnan to apply the machine there as well.

"We are not finished yet!" Adnan said while slowly rubbing the switched off machine on the Arab's inner thighs. Then he placed it on a shelf by the chair and walked a few steps around Manhor, returning with a towel and a bowl of foam. “Now let's get your balls and cock up to youth status! All the beautiful hair has to vanish, the thick bush, your manhood, I'll smooth it out for you like a ten-year-old. And as long as your cock stays that nice and stiff, I won't cut you either! When I'm done, you'll look like the little piss whore on the outside like you are on the inside!"

With the hot wet towel, the barber wiped the Arab's crotch clean, then used a shaving brush to thickly spread the lather up his pubic hair and down his shaft. The hairdresser continued to rub the foam in with his hand and then wiped his fingers in the towel. Then a razor flashed across Manhor and descended to his pelvic area. The Arab winced anxiously as the knife slid along the underside of his veiny cock where the thin ribbon stretched, but Adnan seemed to be an expert. He wielded the knife skillfully, removing every single hair from the Arab's cock and the entire pubic area, even down to the back below the balls where the asshole began.

"Look," Adnan spoke to him, "how much longer your cock looks without hair, you should always wear it like that, so that little puny thing at least looks like something!"

Now Adnan also was hard and his cock seemed even more powerful as the glans bulged out. The barber took some foam again and gently rubbed it with his finger around the Arab's hairy rosette until he began to moan softly.

"What do you want, Arab whore?" Adnan asked with his fingertip in Manhor's ass. "Should I keep shaving or do you want something else first?"

"I want you to fuck me!" whispered Manhor softly.

"I can not understand you!" the barber scolded, “Speak clearly so your master can hear you too! After all, we want your voice on the video too!” Only then did Manhor realize that Akshay was filming the whole thing as usual.

"FUCK ME!" he yelled loudly, “Put your monster cock up my ass. Fuck me a new hole! Rape me with your grenade! Spray me full of your boy sperm! Make me your whore!"

Adnan undid the straps and lifted his feet from the supports. Then he turned the footrests down and instructed Manhor to kneel backwards in the chair. Now the Arab had his lower legs on the footrests and his face pressed against the seat cushion while his ass was stretched back towards Adnan.

"Such a nice hairy butt!" Adnan murmured while rubbing his cock with his right hand and smoothing the hair around Manhor's hole with his left and examining the rosette. “You were a real bear of a man! Now you're already a youth above, but before I rob you of your masculinity below too, I'll take that ass, I'll fuck you, I, Adnan, nineteen years old! I'll fuck you and you'll be begging me to get more, feel me deeper inside you, and feel my hot sticky boy juice inside you. You're such a whore you're going to let a nearly underage guy fuck you!"

Head bowed, Manhor looked back between his legs and saw the Turk's dark cock, now fully erect, hard as stone and covered with meandering pulsing veins. It was now at least a foot long and nearly 5 inches in diameter and reminded Manhor more of a baseball bat than a cock.

By itself, the violet head was as big as his own fist, with a gaping, finger-sized opening at its tip, already dripping a syrupy load of semen. An hour ago, the Arab would not have believed that a human cock could grow so big.

"The only cock that matters from now on is this one." Adnan hissed in his ear, “Do you understand that? Yours, on the other hand, isn't even a real man's cock - it's a worm, a clit. Crap. Even you now know how worthless your little dick is. You and that little maggot of yours will never do it again, you won't fuck anyone with that pimple again, you know that! i will have a lot of fun with you Do you want to feel what real cock feels like?"

"Yes," the Arab sobbed softly.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want to feel what a real cock feels like. Show me what a real man is, how a man fucks, daddy!" Even Adnan was amazed that the man, several years his senior, called him Daddy, but that was what he needed as a final push. He lifted the Arab's ass cheeks slightly and bent down his mouth above it. He lowered a long, sticky thread of spit from his large, boyishly shaved lips onto the Arab's trembling hole.

The Arab winced as he felt the barber's thick hard tip pressing his massive cock against the silky pink flesh of his tight hole. Manhor knew he wanted that cock, needed it. The Turkish boy's hands gripped the Arab's muscular hips, controlling them with their small but unexpectedly strong hands. The Arab moaned and felt the barber press the circumcised cock hard against his hole. Seconds later, Manhor felt the huge glans head pressing against his sphincter. He thought he was being ripped apart as Adnan slowly pushed his cock into the Arab. As the head of the cock slipped through his sphincter, he let out a short scream and a groan. The pressure didn't stop and Adnan pushed his cock further up the kneeling slave's ass until it was completely buried inside him and the Turk's balls slapped against the Arab's much smaller ones. Manhor tried to find something to grab and squeeze but couldn't find anything except the hard armrests.

Adnan grabbed the Arab's hairy hips again and slid deep into his hot hole, filling it with his manhood. Waves of pain and pleasure shot through the slave's body. Screams and moans came from the deepest corners of his stomach as the boy's thick, hot shaft slammed into the Arab's wet cavity, making his prostate pop. The helpless slave felt his cock squirt cum and puddle on the floor beneath his sex-crazed body. The sounds of smacking skin and the squeaking of the barber's chair echoed off the smooth mirrored surfaces of the room. Gradually, the Arab's moans grew quieter, more subtle as his insides surrendered to the feel of the cock pounding relentlessly deep inside him. The barber picked up the pace, feeling his control and power over the muscleman's limp and by now cock-crazed body, faster and faster

getting harder with every hit. The Turkish boy's breath became deeper and more aggressive as the veins in his neck began to pound.

Adnan looked down and could hear Manhor's moans of extreme pleasure, he grinned and said, "Look at that fucking whore, you squirt your own load on the floor in front of me just because my mammoth cock is inside you, touching places in you, where no cock has gone before. I knew you wanted that cock, you would have died for it, but I didn't know you were such a fucking pathetic slut that cums instantly without even touching your clit. Screw it, if your hole gets tighter now it's your own fault, I won't slow down fucking you less hard only because it might be uncomfortable for you! I thought I could have more fun with such an arrogant wench, so much muscle and hair and yet it's all reduced to this tight little hole with the shit coming out! I'd have to fuck the shit out of that ass every day so you learn to step back from your master's needs, what do you think you naughty cock loving whore? Yeah you want that dick, I bet you'd beg for it if I wanted it? Tell me would you beg for my cock? Tell me BITCH?”

“Yes sir I would beg for your cock I would do anything you wanted just to let it own my man pussy feel you and have your cock inside me anything you want I would do. I need your cock, it's the only thing I can think of, I need it. oh god yeah fuck me daddy make me your whore in the name of allah fuck me fuck me dumb fuck me unconscious your dick is so big i cant get enough of it fuck me hard oooowwwwww my god yeah just use me like the worthless whore i am! I want you to pound your fucking spear in my ass and fuck me like there's no tomorrow, I want you to keep your cock inside me forever until you've fucked me to heaven! You fuck me, fuck me hard like you would fuck your female whores, FUUUUUCK ME DAAADDDYYY!"

After a few more powerful thrusts, Adnan gasped even louder, shoving his rod deeper into Manhor's ass, taking full control of his body, which obeyed like a hand puppet and was his to use. Manhor whimpered and gasped, and dropped as the new Master's throbbing cock hit his hole again. The Arab felt his legs buckle, but Adnan only rammed harder and deeper while holding the slave's pelvis higher up the hip. Manhor's upper body sagged forward and his face pressed into the seat cushion, where he began, full of ecstasy, to still his moans in the cushion and to lick the black leather, on which the scent of countless naked men's asses was spread, uncontrollably.

"I'm only two years younger than your brother! Can is his name, right? Do you want me to fuck him too, make your brother my cum slut too? Do you think he wants my big cock as bad as you do? I make him dependent on my juice, want him to beg for it like you! Make him my personal slave?" Adnan hissed and Manhor grunted in his cock-crazed world without any reasonable thinking into the seat cushion of the barber's chair.

“Yes daddy, fuck Can, fuck us both, your cock is big enough for the two of us to share. Be our daddy, make us your brides. Knock us up so we can breed your kids! Push us hard, ram your cock into us, we want it, we need it! GIVE IT TO US, WE ARE YOUR WHORES!”

Manhor didn't understand why he couldn't control his thoughts with this cock up his ass. It was all about having that feeling of being filled. It was so fantastic, at that moment he actually wanted his brother to be able to have this experience as well, wanted to have him with him.

"Can, Can, Can!" Adnan whispered in Manhor's ear with each thrust. “Cunt-Can, Whore-Can, deep-hole-Can, I'll fuck him even harder than you, Cum-Can, Slave-Can, Cocksucker-Can, he'll scream until his vocal cords rupture, Hooker-Can, Hustler-Can, maybe we'll sell him for sex then! You can watch me destroy his asshole in such a way that he can never shit normally again. And when more than twenty truckers rape and fist him until his insides are gone pudding, no begging or yelling will help you, you're responsible because you asked me to!"

Manhor screamed loudly into the pillow, knowing his screams were useless nonetheless, for the barber would not give up until he was satisfied himself. As his hole tightly gripped the boy's huge cock, it brought him closer and closer to exploding again. Each thrust slammed him harder than the last, crushing every logical thought in his brain. Manhor heard himself scream as his insides began to contract again with each thrust of his new Master's youthful body against his helpless ass. The young Turk's body was soaked with sweat, which trickled down his athletic slender frame, dripping onto the floor and filling the room with warmth and musky scents. The Arab wondered how much more he could take. His abdomen was shaking from the intense onslaught inside him and his tears and sobs were now making his whole body tremble uncontrollably. The boy's monster cock thrust deeper and his shaft stretched the mauled hole further. Finally, Manhor heard a low growl from the barber, felt his gut filling with the seed of the Turk who owned him, dominated him. The Arab's bulging, stuffed hole dripped slightly, contracting again around the cock and sending it over the threshold once more. Manhor's organs seemed to fail as he uncontrollably squirted his hot Arab juice into the already existing puddle on the floor.

As the barber pulled his softening cock out of the tortured hole, a mixture of semen, ass slime and sweat trickled down Manhor's ass running down his still hairy legs. But even though his hole seemed full to the brim, more fat strands of sperm squirted out of the boy's cock, down the ass and back to the Arab's neck, marking his back like lashes of a disobedient slave.

But Adnan didn't have enough. As soon as the last gush of cum had squirted out of him, he pushed his monster back into the Arab's slippery hole in one stroke. He relaxed, unable to do anything but submit. Hot piss spat out of the huge cock and filled Manhor's intestines. It felt like it would never stop.

"I've already drunk two liters of tea today!" Adnan explained, "They have to go. That's it baby... take my turkish boy piss and hold it tight inside you. Feel how it washes your man's pussy and your stomach from the inside... Now you can feel how a real guy feels. How does it feel when your stomach is filled with so much warmth? I've marked my territory now!”

"Oh man! It feels sooo awesome, so hot! I'll do anything you say! Feed me that! I want it inside me, your pee. God, it smells so fucking awesome in here and you treat me like this, like me cunt deserve it! I wanna be your toilet boss!"

The barber, while still resting his cock deep in Manhor's ass, reached around Manhor's body with his right hand and patted his sagging belly, which was filled to the brim with gallons of piss and cum.

"Feel my pee and cum rippling inside you?" he asked, slapping his hand twice more against the wobbling belly. "Now where's your hard-trained six-pack. Already gone from a batch of Anal-Adnan protein pumps? I can keep filling you up until your stomach bursts or it oozes out of your mouth and nose! Do you want that, whore?”

"Yes... want more... your juice in me... hot, thick piss juice... warm... so full...!" Manhor stammered incoherently.

"Tell me what you want, slave!" Adnan hissed in his ear.

“I want big fat cocks, more cock, full of cum! I want to be fucked, cocks everywhere, bathe in your Turkish juices, cum inside and out. Use me as a toilet, as a trash can, as a drain, but give me your magnificent cock! Poke me so hard I scream! GIVE ME MORE, MOOORRREEEE, MMMMOOOOORRRREEEEE!”

"You sick son of a bitch! This is so damn pathetic! Ha-ha, my damn

Toilet fag, what about this macho man you once were? If your brother could see you like that!" Adnan put his hand over his nose and closed one nostril with his thumb, and snorted hard into his hand. Then he choked up some spit and spat it into his palm to the yellowish snot from his nose He held his palm in front of Manhor's face while his limp cock was still chafing in his hole.

"How deep? How deep will you go, cunt? How humiliated will you get for me?" he asked, amazed as the Arab licked the snot and saliva from his palm without hesitation !

He pulled his cock out of Manhor's hole and saw the sphincter tighten. Apparently the Arab didn't want to share a drop. Adnan bent his knees and checked the Arab's buttocks.

The cleft was thickly covered with dark hair. The boy put a finger in the Arab's hole and fished out some sperm, which he spread in the hair around the hole. While Manhor tore his ass cheeks apart telepathically, the barber began shaving the Arab's buttocks clean. The feel of the razor scraping across his buttocks and on his ass was amazing. Manhor felt his balls jerked backwards and the razor scrape on the underside of his balls continued and his cock stirred again. The joy only lasted a minute as the barber told him to move in the barber chair.

"So, now we finish your styling, I know what's good for you!" Adnan remarked and started the razor. Starting at the left ankle, he eagerly sliced up the hairy leg to the waist. The machine glided along the lower and upper thighs several times. Although it was a professional device, even after several attempts it could not remove all the hair, which is why a mix of smooth skin and scattered tufts of hair appeared on the Arab's left leg. The barber lifted his leg and ran the machine back and forth several times, resting the Arab's foot on his shoulder to bring the blade close to the slave's hanging balls. The Turk switched sides and mowed the Arab's thick fur from his right leg.

Manhor, meanwhile, came to his senses and remembered what he had said about his brother. "Please, leave Can alone!" he begged and received a violent slap in the face.

"What are you allowing yourself, you just begged me to fuck him and now you're talking to me without permission?" Another slap followed.

"Please, I'll do anything but Can! You can keep shaving and pissing on me, but my brother is innocent!” Tears ran down his reddened cheeks from the beating.

"Let's see, maybe your ass is enough for now!" Adnan hissed hostilely and put the razor aside. "Fine tuning comes later! Now let's take care of the hair color and your beard, after all, that has to go too!"

"Not the beard!" Manhor tried to protest, "That really makes me manly, without it I have a face like a girl with my long eyelashes and all...!"

"Don't worry, you only get what you deserve!" Adnan replied mockingly. "You're a cunt and that's what you should look like, a smooth little whore, I'll make you ten years younger, then the truckers will like you even more!" hahaha!

The Turk took the damp towel, wiped his cock, which was still glistening from the piss, cum and juices from Manhor's ass, and placed the stinky towel over Manhor's mouth and jaw area to soak. He then released a lock on the chair, causing it to tip backward like a dentist's chair, and Manhor's legs swung up while his head was lowered to the Turk's knee height. Above him he saw the huge cock dangling soft and smooth and the young Turk slapped it a few times against Manhor's cheeks. The Arab inhaled the aromas of their sex even through the towel and moaned as the cock began to piss again. Manhor felt the towel soak briefly, but then the jet was directed at his remaining mane of hair, and Adnan rubbed his warm urine into his hair with his right hand to wash out the dye.

"That's exactly how I imagined it!" laughed the Turk and wiped his piss-stained hand on Manhor's chest. "That looks really trashy, you punk! You will be able to admire yourself in the mirror later! I know you like doing that!”

Then he removed the towel and rested his cock on Manhor's forehead so that the fat head reached up to his nose. He rubbed the shaft over the Arab's face a few times, letting the plump fist-sized head brush the lips, touching the hard stubble that would disappear in a few minutes. Then, all of a sudden, he squirted and spread his sperm over the Arab's beard area.

"That was supposed to replace the soap!" he giggled, watching his baby juice spread down Manhor's beard. "It's just as creamy!"

Then the razor's sharp blade began to scrape Manhor's throat. The knife slid the sharp glittering blade across the Arab's Adam's apple and up to his chin. The crunching of the strong stubble filled the room like a forest being mowed down. With the neck shaved clean, Adnan began work on Manhor's cheeks and upper lip. The razor blade went clumsily through the thick stubble, but the barber knew when and where to stretch the skin so his client wouldn't get hurt. After almost ten minutes, the young Turk slapped the lower half of his face with his palm and checked the shave.

"Smooth as a baby's bottom!" he triumphed, "Now you're a real hustler, as you deserve! Your tattoo is also much easier to read without hair, Arab Manwhore Sucker! Come and look at yourself in the mirror while I remove the rest with the blade!”

Adnan led Manhor to the opposite wall and slapped his shaved ass with the palm of his hand. He held the razor in front of the Arab's face again, who looked in amazement at himself in the mirror and hardly recognized himself. There he was, the formerly hairy bear of a man everyone had put in his early thirties by build and body hair. His black hair was styled in a mohican and dyed a pale green with a cheap dark roots that looked grown out. He looked like a 14-year-old street kid. Manhor thought to himself that he would never forget the sight of himself, the way the light from the razor reflected before his eyes and glittered menacingly on the sharp blade.

"See how sharp that is, boy? You'd better hold still or I'll shave your eyebrows off, too. I want you to be perfectly smooth, and I want you to watch me put the finishing touches on you. 'Cause then we both enjoy it even more."

With these words he lifted Manhor's left arm and began to shave his left armpit with the razor. He didn't use soap or shaving cream, just the razor blade. For the Arab, it felt like scraping his skin with sandpaper. The Arab watched helplessly as the last bit of hair was removed from his skin.

From the neck down, Adnan continued to shave the body, down the torso and the remaining tufts on the legs that the machine hadn't caught. It took a long time but the barber was patient and got the job done neatly. When he was done, he folded the razor into Manhor's asshole and stood there expectantly for a few minutes. Not knowing what he wanted, Manhor looked down at his exposed body.

"I look like a kid!" he stammered. "There's not a single hair on my body!" He felt ugly as a shaved rat, yet somehow aroused at the same time.

Finally, Adnan grabbed his remaining hair and yanked his head back like a killer about to slit his victim's throat.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" he asked scornfully. "You look worthless now just the way you are!" He took a few steps to the side and retrieved a plastic bottle from a shelf behind one of the mirrors. "So your skin doesn't get pimply! A very special mixture from me to disinfect! One part sperm, one part urine and some raki from home! Come on, whore, rub it on yourself!”

Manhor grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap and sniffed the opening of the bottle briefly. The smell of the semen and urine was still slightly perceptible, but was masked by the alcohol and aniseed. He squirted a handful of the house brand into the palm of his left hand and began rubbing the yellowish cream all over his body from his cheeks down. He slathered it on his arms, his legs, and his stomach, which was still slightly bloated from the Turk's juices, hiding his six-pack. His skin was shiny and milky from the cream and he smeared the last drops around his cock and massaged them into his balls and his shaft.

"Now my juices are in you and on you!" Adnan laughed, "let it soak in and come back soon!"

Akshay stepped out of the corner of the room, handed Adnan some bills and dragged the Arab out of the room. In the anteroom he received a pestemal and a plastic bag from Aldi in which he could stuff his clothes. Barefoot and with only the scarf around his waist, he had to walk next to his master, who was wearing a thick woolen coat, into the freezing December cold and walk the eight minutes to their apartment. Manhor would never know what shocked the oncoming passers-by more about him, his attire or the strange stench of his body encased in Adnan's special compound. When they got home, Akshay found the cream had set in and offered Manhor a warm shower. While the Arab was still dreaming of a jet of hot water and soap, he found himself on his knees in the shower tray and staring at the Indian man's dark cock above him, from which the hot piss sprayed over his body and warmed him.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Akshay had decorated the living room for the guests and freshly shaved the shadow of his slave's beard. The walls were covered with twinkling LED lights and white Styrofoam stars hung on the windows. There was no Christmas tree, but Manhor stood almost naked in the corner in an aluminum washbasin. He was dressed only in his chastity belt, which imprisoned his balls like a cage, a red vest with white fur and a slightly oversized Santa Claus hat, the fur brim of which slipped into his eyes. He himself was part of the decoration.

With difficulty he could make out outlines behind the fabric of the hat, soaked with his Master's sperm and urine, as the guests entered. Although he couldn't see much, his sense of smell was all the more keen and he couldn't escape the smell of semen and urine from the cap.

As more guests arrived, he could feel the room filling with sweat, testosterone, and cigar smoke. Glasses rattled, people toasted, laughed and belched, as befits real men who are among themselves. In the jumble of voices he was able to catch snippets of words that were obviously meant for him.

"...Santa's son...little whore..."

"... hopefully been good this year, hahahaha..."

"... doesn't have a rod or a sack himself, we have to bring them with us..."

"... excited to see what Akshay has planned for him, the little Christmas elf!"

There had to be between ten and fifteen guests, Manhor couldn't tell exactly because of the constant back and forth of the shadows in front of his eyes. Despite the snide remarks and laughter at him, he stayed still in his corner as ordered, trying not to flinch even when one of the guests walked past him and pinched one of his enlarged slave nipples or his fist against his cage-squashed genitals struck. Akshay had given him clear instructions and he knew he would follow them closely, for it was now his true masochistic nature that aroused him and kept him alive.

"Holy face!" remarked one of the guests and pushed a finger, probably cold from the ice cubes of the whiskey glass in his hand, between Manhor's lips and let the Arab suck on it briefly. He pulled out his finger, dipped it briefly in the glass, and put it back in Manhor's mouth.

"I'll be back and then I'll feed you something else, you pig!" he hissed, pulling his finger out of Manhor's sucking mouth and wiping it on his vest. Then he went further into the dining room, where there was probably the first course.

Though Manhor hadn't been able to see the guests clearly through the fur trimmed Santa hat, he was sure they were formally dressed. He smelled their expensive eau de toilette and could see the contrast between the dark suit pants and the white dress shirts. Wine glasses tinkled in the next room as guests toasted the evening meal and he heard cutlery scraping on plates. That had to be soup, his master had told him there would be plenty of liquid to get the guests in the right mood.

After the first course, some of the guests came back. A stairway of three steps was set up in front of Manhor so that any of the guests could shove their cock in the Arab's mouth if needed. Akshay had strictly instructed Manhor to keep quiet no matter what the guests had in store for him. The master commanded and the slave obeyed, that had become his destiny. There would no longer be a “no”, the master could do whatever he wanted with his slave and he would beg for more.

Still, Mahor flinched when one of the guests grabbed his left nipple and twisted it 180 degrees as he passed. Then the guest spat a full mouthful of the broccoli and creme soup onto Manhor's shaved chest, where the greenish mixture of spit and soup slowly dripped into his shaved eggs in the shiny metal cage.

“The color matches your hair, punk! I'm excited to see the color when the cap is taken off for the finale!” he called out and spat on the Arab's chin again, leaving a long strand of snot dangling from his jaw like tinsel.

Then other guests approached him, climbed the steps and either shoved their cock in his mouth to urinate straight down his throat or they just pissed in his face and watched their urine spilling down his throat and ribcage, glistening gold all over him ran down his legs and filled the metal bowl in which he was standing barefoot. After the first four men, Manhor felt as if he were standing in a urinal or being the urinal himself. Akshay watched with satisfaction as his slave was humiliated and pissed on by strangers he didn't know or even see, his genital cage still filling bulging as his cock pressed hard against the enclosing metal grate and ejected drops of semen.

The smell of roasts filled the room and the guests stuffed their pissed-out cocks back into their cloth pants and zipped up. A butler hired by Akshay gave everyone a damp cloth to wipe their hands on. Most of them then threw the guest towel into the trough at Manhor's feet, where they soaked themselves in piss. While the guests washed down roast, rosemary potatoes and vegetables with beer, the Arab imagined he could take at least one of these towels and suck it in his mouth, drink the delicious warm piss and let it circulate in his mouth like wine. But he obediently stood still and waited for the next round.

After the main course, to which a lot of beer had flowed, the guests came back. Cock after cock drenched the Arab inside and out in recycled beer and some still turned on the stairs and farted in his face. Then the guests began to decorate his body with tinsel and glitter stickers. They began to hang the silver threads on his tail cage, glued stars and little angels to his upper arms and legs and painted or wrote on his body with the sharpie markers provided. So that Manhor could see the humiliation, the butler pushed a full-length mirror in front of him and finally pulled the Santa hat off Manhor's head. His light green hair was styled straight up with gel and hairspray, which also wasn't destroyed by the hat, although he had sweated profusely under the latex part.

"Urine Hole" was written on his cheeks, "Pisswhore" under the tattoo on his chest. Words like "slavecunt" and "Little Miss Piss Piggy" were immortalized on his arms, while an arrow pointed from the word "worthless" to his caged cock. On the other leg were just a few words written like on a cast after a broken leg, faggot, bitch, whore, rent boy, man pussy. The longer he looked at the labels, the more they aroused him and his cock pressed even harder against his prison.

After dessert, one of the guests approached him. A tall, strong, balding, goatie black man with particularly full pink lips.

He undid his pants and his semi-hard cock was revealed. His uncut shiny black cock was a beauty to behold. The thick glans head glistening moistly pressed out of the tight foreskin like a chick hatching from an egg. He held the latex Santa hat under his cock and actually started pissing in it. Not just a few drops came out, but a steaming stream of piss shot out of his cock

and ran right into Manhor's cap. When he was done, he handed the hat to the next guest, a handsome boy who was probably still in his twenties, cocking his long prick over the steaming hat. While he was also pissing in the cap, although his stream was not nearly as full as that of the black man, the first man pressed his spear against Manhor's asshole, which Akshay lubricated beforehand. The Arab's cunt willingly accepted the mighty cock.

"Now my black piss is in the cap, you've already drunk a load of Negro juice, now you'll get my Negro babies up your ass!" the black man hissed in Manhor's ears.

A third and fourth guest pissed into the cap, which was already filling to the brim, and one of them had taken the black man's place after he came buckets when a familiar face stepped in front of the slaves.

"Well well, that's what happened to my worst employee!" laughed his ex-boss Harfmüller and put on his wide, seductive grin that made his face so radiant. "You've been a very naughty boy, little Santa. That must be punished! Somebody treated himself to something nice, Aki! Bring me a beer mug, the cap is already full!” With these words, Harfmüller carefully took the cap from his foreman by the edges, lifted it in front of his face and smelled the other men's urine.

"You love the smell of fresh urine...don't you?" he asked and, without waiting for an answer, quickly put the latex covering filled with piss over Manhor's head, so that only a few drops ran down the side and landed in the trough at his feet. Suddenly the hat was so tight around Manhor's forehead that the stuffing on his skull wobbled in the shell without leaking like a full amniotic sac. Manhor didn't have time to think about whether this was a different, tighter cap than the one he'd been wearing earlier in the evening, because Harfmuller was already filling the beer mug that had been handed to him and holding it under his nose.

"Smell my piss!" he ordered with a grin.

Manhor obeyed him, and in a strange way, for the first time since they had met, he really wanted to obey him. He sniffed the jug and inhaled the scent deeply and loudly with his nose. It was a strong, intense male scent and he loved it. It actually made him even hornier at that moment, so he moaned softly.

"Very good, you Arab sow, you see that it's not that difficult to take orders from another guy. Let that be a lesson for you. If only you would have learned that earlier. But if we're honest, the realization comes a little too late for you now!"

He raised the jug to Manhor's lips and slowly poured the contents into the former clerk's mouth. Then he placed a finger on the brim of the latex cap on Manhor's head and tugged, releasing the tension around the Arab's skull. The piss shot over his head like a waterfall and was still warm. Piss dripped down Manhor's face and onto his outstretched tongue. "Your party is a hit!" shouted Harfmüller and spat in the piss around Manhor's feet. Casting a last look at the Arab, in which Manhor could see desire, Harfmüller turned away and gave the place to the next guest.

The jug was filled several times that evening, as was the Arab's ass. He drank, was filled with cum and piss from behind and showered from top to bottom. Towards the end, one of the guests actually stuffed one of the soaked guest towels into his mouth like a gag. While trying to fuck the Arab's soul out of his body from behind, Akshay opened the cage and soft and reddened, the slave's cock straightened up, on the surface of which the imprints of the metal mesh were visible and as the guest came inside him, he shot a copious load of cum and piss simultaneously pouring out of Manhor's meaty cock into the bowl below him.

The guests continued to have fun around the room, some chatting casually, others getting closer, feeling each other's bodies under their suits, grabbing each other's ties and pulling them in for a kiss or rubbing their cocks through their pants. To top off the party, Manhor was asked to step out of the trough. The bowl, in which more than 5 liters of piss had accumulated, was pulled out a bit and the slave knelt down in front of it. He lowered his face over the bowl like a drinking dog and slurped his tongue loudly in the cooling yellow broth of mixed fluids.

"Drink, drink, drink!" the guests cheered him on and laughed as he choked and a gush of pee squirted out of his mouth in fine drops. Then he lowered his head deeper and slurped the urine so loudly that he even drowned out the murmurs of the more than twenty spectators. The butler received his wages and was allowed to leave. But before he left the room, he whispered something in Aksahy's ear, who then nodded. And so the butler stepped next to Manhor to the bowl, took his stiff cock out of his pants and while he was jerking his cock with his right hand, he pressed Manhor's head deep into the piss with his left hand, so that the Arab couldn't breathe anymore and gargled for air. It only lasted a few seconds before the butler squirted thick white threads on the back of Manhor's body from the greenish hair down to the cleft of his ass, letting go of the slave's head, who hectically gasped for air and turned his face towards the attacker, so that a last jet of cum ran across his face and shot in his open eyes, thin threads of sperm dangling from his long dark lashes. As at the beginning of the evening, his vision was now restricted again and the guests were reduced to outlines.