396 Darkcloud

396 Mr. Darkcloud’s Farm
Part 1 of 5

It was early morning in May when I knocked on the door of a Mr. Darkcloud in rural Idaho. I was tipped off about Mr. Darkcloud’s work when I visited a gay website where his profile showed he managed slaves on a family farm. He grew up on a Nez Perce Reservation. It was more of dumb luck that he inherited this farm from the owner, his adopted father, when he passed away. Mr. Darkcloud’s profile listed his age as 38 but did not offer much more than that other than a vague interest in kink. He didn’t even show any photos.

I, being a freelance journalist working in the world of kink, was looking for a racy new feature piece to write about and submit to a prominent magazine. I didn’t like the idea of living kink, but I did enjoy writing kinky stories in my spare time. But real kink was a growing underground movement, a juicy story calling me. I could professionally write this detailed article. I like to think outside the box, and kink was definitely outside My box. And I would occasionally go to an adult bookstore for generic hetero videos and magazines. When there, my eyes and imagination would wander to the racks and counters displaying the S and M stuff, like cuffs, dildos, gags, collars, and all the other gear they had. Men on men images were interesting, but not my thing, just some wild, out-of-reach, fantasy kink. I spent a nice bit of time exploring the kink scene in gay bars, in nearby cities, as an undercover investigative reporter. I saw a posted notice in one of the bars and decided to respond to a “Mr. Darkcloud.” After reading his online profile, I messaged him, which the post referred me to. He was seeking men to visit him on his farm, promising a healthy, labor-filled lifestyle of becoming a farmhand.

After sending a few messages back and forth, I found out that he was just a two-hour drive away. Oddly, he said he wanted a few more animals to own and asked me if I would like to be one. What a kidder he must be! I joked back, “Sure, we can see about that.” I love a great sense of humor. Mr. Darkcloud agreed to give me an interview, show me his stable, and check out his slave animals, provided I bring no recording devices; no equipment that offered visual evidence I was there.

Darkcloud was adamant about that last point. No potential farm animal was allowed on his property unless they voluntarily issued their consent in the form of signing a contract. Everything had to be documented, for should the authorities come knocking, he would not be held liable for indenturing his “animals.”

As I rapped the door several times, I looked around. The farmland was massive, with no other structures visible for miles other than a large barn behind the main house, with a small shack off to its left. On the drive in, I passed through a small town about thirty minutes away—perhaps no more than 5,000 residents. From there, it was dirt road after dirt road. I was surprised I was able to find the farm without getting lost. Still, Mr. Darkcloud had given me detailed instructions about where to turn (using phrases such as `take the first left after the 70-mph sign’ and `take the second right just before the large boulder with graffiti’).

I was startled by the sudden opening of the front door and turned quickly to greet the man standing in the doorway. He was large and imposing, a hulking figure. Where I was 5’10” and a lean 175 lbs., this man positively filled the entire door framework. Clearly, he was a tall man proud of his Indian heritage. He wore his hair long, some Indian jewelry, and was barefoot. He was accompanied by his dog, Jeronimo. His profile said he was 36, but his very presence gave him the authority of someone with greater age and wisdom.

He offered a meaty palm. “Hello there, you must be Rhett, I take it?”

“Yeah, that’s me!” I said, a little awestruck. I composed myself quickly and extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Darkcloud. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous to check out your farm!” He grinned, revealing a full set of immaculate teeth. I suspect I may have been overeager, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to the man, so I kept trying to temper my enthusiasm.

“First, may I have your signed consent form?” I forgot about it but pulled it out of my bag and handed it to him. I never did read the 12 pages. “What should we do next, Rhett?” he asked. “The interview? Or do you wanna see the stable?”

“The interview first, I think.” Mr. Darkcloud motioned inside and let me go first. I was immediately met with the sound of loud barking.

“Oh, shut up, Wolf,” he yelled. Not a moment later, a large black Labrador appeared from around a corner. It snarled at me but stayed in place. Mr. Darkcloud laid an arm on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless,” he said and led me to a small kitchen towards the rear of the house.

“Not my first time dealing with territorial dogs,” I said with a small smile.

“Oh, he’s very territorial,” Mr. Darkcloud said. “So,” he sat down in one chair, gesturing to the other for me to sit, “you have some questions?”

I sat down. Pulled a recorder out of my bag, and without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it away in one swoop and tossed it in the kitchen fireplace. I wasn’t as upset that he destroyed it as I was embarrassed that I forgot his rules. I apologized profusely.

“May I use paper and pen?” I said meekly. He nodded yes. “OK, then, I’d like to ask some general questions to allow readers to understand who you are and your interest in this farm. What you are advertising for.”

He nodded. “I have a regular farm, except I have slaves and slave animals to work it.” He said it just like that. I giggled at first. But when he stared back, I realized he wasn’t joking.

OK, I said to myself, let’s see where this goes. I’ll play along for now. I asked the basic questions about himself and how he inherited and built the farm.

“Well, I’m 38, worked on this farm since I was 12—my father taught me at a young age how to plant and harvest crops, as well as how to milk and care for cows….” Oh, sorry, would you mind sitting on the floor?” He pointed to a spot near his booted feet. I said nothing as I slid from the chair t the floor. It was odd, but it was his home.

I continued, “So, your farm isn’t just for slaves? It’s an agricultural and dairy farm?”

“Agricultural, yes. Dairy, no. There are cows, but they’re merely used for their milk for the slaves and me. Any excess milk is sent to locals or the farmer’s market.”

“I see. So, you inherited the farm. But I saw your kink profile….” I prodded.

“I’ve had profiles on Farm-Anaimals.com for a long time but never thought to do something so bold. It’s what I wanted but was too inhibited, at first, to pursue. I guess five or six years ago, I grew a pair. I was alone. And I have an extremely dominant personality. What better way to combine the difficulties of being a dominant gay man and a farmer? I get to order subservient men around to help me in this isolated environment, away from the prying eyes of others?”

“And the slaves? They just messaged you?”

“Pretty much.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging. “I originally had pictures of myself up, but once I got a few slaves, I didn’t want people to be able to track me down. I let the profile do the talking.”

“It’s straightforward,” I joked.

“Hey, it got you here, didn’t it?” he said smugly.

“I, uh,” I stammered before recovering, “for this piece, I need someone comfortable with being overbearing to interview and also a sub guy.”

“Sure thing,” he winked, then continued, “but yeah, guys were messaging me often—and still do—asking to join the farm. But I weed out the ones just looking to jack off or get a taste of some fantasy before they skedaddle. They must want it. They have to come here, sign a contract, and then they’re mine.”

“They're yours?"

"Yeah, my property. Don't get me wrong, it’s not a `your entire life is over' type of deal. I offer them a lot in exchange: free meals, a place to stay, medical, dental, and sex. All they have to do is give their bodies and labor in exchange. They do the work; they get their reward. Plus, many of these guys were scrawny little things, all skin and bones. I muscled `em up. I also got a trainer who lives with me. His name’s Elmer. I pay him to whip `em into shape and keep `em honest."

"Do the slaves do all of the farm work?" I asked.

"Yep, all of it." He leaned forward, strong, tanned forearms on the table. "Slaves do all the labor. I work the business side of things. Elmer trains them, keeps `em fed, clean, all that sort of thing. If either of us gets sick, the other takes over."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out," I said, capping the pen.

He grinned again. "Hey man, it’s a good life. There’s no judgment out here. No one to tell me what I can and can't do."

"Ha ha, sounds great, Mr. Darkcloud." I realized then that I hadn't caught his first name.

"Hey, I got a question for YOU," he said. "You ever think of becoming a slave?"

I would have fallen out of my chair, but I was already on the floor. That was incredibly direct, but then again, I shouldn't have been surprised, knowing the man’s character. "Uh, that’s more of a special, erotic kink thing for me, not a lifestyle thing."

"Oh yeah? What kind of master-slave stuff have you done?"

I was joking about any personal interest in kink. I said that to keep the conversation going. But now I have to elaborate and make up some stuff. My brow began to sweat. This is not the kind of interview I was expecting. I needed to shut this down. "That’s a bit personal, Mr. Darkcloud."

He nodded his head slowly as if admonished. "You're right, you're right," he trailed off. "It’s just, I wouldn't expect a journalist—even one involved in the kink field—to explore this kinda topic unless he’s got his interests, you know what I'm sayin'?" He hit me with a knowing look and a serious demeanor.

"It’s just something I dabbled in," I said.

"Like bondage? Or BDSM?" he inquired.

"A bit of both, and some, you know," my hands flailed a bit, "some pup and leather stuff."

"Ah, child’s play," he said, standing up from his seat. "Well, if you ever wanna try a test run on some harder stuff, you let me know," he said, winking again. "Shall we go check out the stable?" I hadn't noticed it until now, but my cock was hard and pressing against the fabric of my jeans. It wasn't too hot, so jeans weren't a moronic choice for clothing, but the shape would be noticeable if I stood up now.

"What about Elmer?" I asked, wondering where the other man was.

"Elmer’s gone into town for some groceries and the farmer’s market. I told him you were coming over so he'd be aware when he got home. Now, come on, let’s go. I gotta feed and water `em now anyway."

I hesitated. "Feed and water them now? Isn't it" I checked my watch. Almost ten in the morning. "a bit late for that? On a farm, anyway?"

Mr. Darkcloud looked outside at the sun. "Nah, this day’s a bit of a rest for `em. Too much other work for me and Elmer to be doin'."

"Oh," I said.

He grew impatient with me. He looked at me on the floor, "You gonna get off your ass or what?" he barked. I immediately jumped into action, pocketing my pad and pen.

"Sorry, sir."

He stopped and gave me a curious glance. "What did you say to me?"

I looked up at his face. Shit. "Uh, I said sorry?"

He smiled. "You called me `sir,' boy. I think you have a bit of a sub streak yet."

"It’s a term of respect," I said, "and you're showing me your place. That’s all."

"Nah, I don't think so," he said, opening the screen door towards the barn. I followed closely behind him, feeling extremely uneasy at his ability to read people. "I think you're falling into old habits. Plus, you think I can't see that hard-on?"

I blushed, but his back was turned to me as I trailed behind him. "It’s nothing."

"It’s fine, boy," he said. The term `boy' was getting under my skin. I was a journalist here for a story—I was not here to be belittled. "I know I'm hot, and I know this experience, being yelled at and the whole domination aspect of kink. I know that’s a huge turn-on for subs like you."

"It’s not about that…"

“Plus, check out these muscles." He wore an open T-shirt and jeans. He flexed his muscles while turning to look at me. "We're both gay, boy. Just accept that fact and enjoy your time here. You'll be home soon. No need to be weirded out."

I rolled my eyes at his bravado and kept my thoughts to myself. We trampled through small weeds and gravel until we reached the barn.

"Here it is," he grinned, hauling the door open. "Home, sweet home."

Mr. Darkcloud’s tan arms glistened in the sun as he pulled open the barn door. I was beyond anxious. I was horny, sporting a raging hard-on in my jeans, but I tried to ignore it. This was nearly a fantasy come to life—one of the hottest guys I'd ever seen, full of muscle and authority, leading me into his dark, humid barn. I was excited to see the slaves in the stable—but even worse, I think I was more excited to see what position he put them in, perhaps to imagine myself in their predicament.

"Step inside, boy, so I can close the door. Don't like leaving it open. Let’s in a draft," Mr. Darkcloud said, stepping aside. I quickly shuffled into the barn. He closed the door behind us.

I squinted and tried to adjust my eyes to the low light. The smell was musty—not of sweat but of wet wood, hay, and the faint hint of earth. The sun streamed in through small holes in the rafters, but otherwise, the inside was lit by just a few lanterns. The inside of the barn had obvious stalls on the left and the right, but each was cordoned off by wooden enclosures. I wanted to sneak a peek badly inside the stalls.

I jumped when a strong, warm hand hit my shoulder. "Come on, boy. Lemme show you around." Mr. Darkcloud stepped forward. He walked past a few of the stalls before settling on the third one to our left. "Take a look, boy. This is Spike."

I walked over—trying to hide my excitement—and peered in. There, standing upright, a man stared back at me. He had dark skin, toned muscles, and no visible hair on his body except for his eyebrows. He was gorgeous—he clearly weighed more than even Mr. Darkcloud, at least 250 lbs. A harness wrapped around his torso, and a panel gag kept his mouth busy. From a hook above his head hung a rope tied to the apparatus around his head. The apparatus looked like a small harness that kept the panel gag in, hooked into a large black collar around his neck, and forced the slave to stand upright in the stall. His powerful arms were tied behind his back in an armbinder, and his legs were spread apart with a spreader bar. I could see a branding upon his left pec—Property of Master Darkcloud—and, on his right, Spike.

"Wow," I said and began to step inside the stall.

"Ah, ah, ah. No can do," Mr. Darkcloud said. I stopped to look at him. "Spike here is still in training. That’s why its arms and legs are tied. It doesn't get any attention unless I allow it. You can look, but you can't go any further."

x Mr. Darkcloud’s Farm
Part 2 of 5

I stole a glance at Spike’s eyes; what I saw was mesmerizing. He stared back at me, not with fear, but with understanding. The man did not look helpless—he looked at peace. I looked at his cock. It was encased in a black chastity device concealed from sight and touch. I salivated at the thought of it wrapped around my cock, with Mr. Darkcloud staring at me in the same position as the slave before me. "Come on, boy, let’s check out Blaze." At the mention of the word `boy,' I noticed Spike’s eyes widen slightly. Did he know something I didn't? Was he initially called `boy' before submitting to this life of servitude? I wished to reach out and touch his body to understand what could have led him to make such a life-changing decision. A man of his stature and aesthetic would have no shortage of hot suitors. Was he financially broke? Was he running from the law? Surely sexual lust couldn't have turned him into the broken slave before me. I broke eye contact and followed Mr. Darkcloud to another stall, and what lay inside haunted me.

Standing with the same head apparatus was another male about my height, with dark hair and bulging muscles. It was like looking into a mirror, but on a body with an extra 50 lbs. of muscle, extremely tan skin from working in the sun, and shackles around his arms and legs. The shackles weren't chained to anything, just hanging loosely off the end of his limbs, but the head harness kept him locked in place. It was shut with a padlock—to which I'm sure Mr. Darkcloud or his trainer Elmer had the key—clearly meant for trained slaves who wouldn't fiddle about. A bit gag kept his mouth open but filled. I watched as drool exited its corners and dripped onto the messy floor.

But again, the likeness of his visage to mine was both terrifying and immensely arousing. Within a year and a half of hard work, maybe two, that could be me with pert pink nipples, sculpted abs, and immaculate facial hair—a manicured beard and short, messy brown hair. Given the state of Spike, I was surprised he was allowed to have hair.

"He’s allowed hair?" I asked Mr. Darkcloud.

"Yeah," came the response from beside me, "Slaves who have proven their loyalty and service are allowed to grow back hair on their head. Everything below the neck is shaved, though."

"He’s beautiful," I said, unconsciously stepping forward again.

"It’s beautiful," Mr. Darkcloud corrected. "Blaze is one of my most loyal slaves. Been here for three years. It’s been trained to perfection. Isn't that right, Blaze?"

Blaze stared straight ahead, not looking at either one of us. His eyes were slightly downcast—trained to avoid eye contact with his superior. Mr. Darkcloud stepped past me, and I noticed a key in one of his hands. "No touching, remember." He unlocked Blaze’s head harness from the hook—it remained on his head, the bit gag frozen in place—and grabbed him by the harm. Mr. Darkcloud led Blaze out of the stall and motioned for me to follow.

We walked around the stalls to a section of troughs. There was nothing in them now, evidently all cleaned out. Mr. Darkcloud adjusted a few nozzles, and soon enough, a flush of water began to fill the trough. "This is the feeding station. This trough here fills with water and, when this nozzle over here is turned"—he pointed to a nozzle to our right—" it fills this second trough with gruel. Tons of protein in it, eaten once in the morning before work, once in the afternoon at midday, and once in the evening at the end of the day. Blaze, have a drink." Blaze knelt obediently at the trough and began to lap at the water. I noticed Mr. Darkcloud move behind him, staring down at him with a lustful grin.

"Ya know," Mr. Darkcloud said, "I'm feelin' a little turned on with you standin' there and my slave bent over like this" He shot me a smile, then took off his shirt. My dick immediately sprung a leak, and I couldn't think about anything other than the Greek God standing before me. He unbuttoned his shorts then, stealing glances at me as if performing some seductive striptease before he dropped them to the ground, along with his underwear.

I couldn't help but stare at his magnificent specimen. It had to be at least 9 inches, if not longer. I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner, considering how tight his shorts were, but my mind had been preoccupied with the predicament of the slaves in the stable. He knelt behind Blaze, placed his fingers in the slave’s mouth, and then immediately pressed them into the slave’s inviting hole. Blaze accepted everything without a sound, wordlessly lapping at the water in the trough without a care in the world. I wished I was him at that moment.

Mr. Darkcloud slowly entered Blaze, adjusting himself as he did so, and then went to town, pounding him mercilessly. Sweat trickled down his enormous chest, and I witnessed his heaving body and thrusting pelvis continually entering and exiting Blaze’s backside. I was a voyeur.

I was a voyeur, and for some reason, that didn't bother me. I didn't feel disgusted or abhorred at this display of aggression, dominance, and inappropriate interview behavior. On the contrary, I wanted to be the slave on its knees, feeding at Mr. Darkcloud’s trough with Master’s massive cock in my hole.

"You like what you see, boy?" Mr. Darkcloud said between thrusts, a dark, desiring look on his face.

"Yes, Sir," I responded, completely giving in to the fantasy.

"Bet you'd like to be this slave, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, Sir," I said without thinking. I stroked the hard-on in my jeans. My eyes closed momentarily in ecstasy as I briefly imagined myself on my knees getting plowed like a sex toy. WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING! THIS IS NOT SOMEONE’S PLAY FANTASY. IT’S REALITY!

"Maybe you wanna join in?" he said.

There was a moment, however fleeting, where I understood the ramifications of giving in to this man. This wasn't like in the city, where a quick BDSM fling would lead to a hot, passion-fueled session of me getting utterly turned on and fucked, and then we'd part at the end of the night. No, this was dangerous territory, where one of the hottest men I'd ever seen was fucking the other hottest man I'd ever seen, and I was standing in a stable that housed submissive sex and labor slaves. I WAS A JOURNALIST, NOT A SLAVE! I mean, a harmless erotic fun thing is fine. Just exploring, that’s all.

Mr. Darkcloud pulled out of Blaze, who kept up his drinking—how much was a slave required to drink in one sitting? —and sauntered over in my direction, his massive cock swaying from side to side. "On your knees, boy."

I was entranced. His dick swung left. It swung right. Nine inches of flesh with substantial girth, swinging like a pendulum, hypnotizing my gaze. It wasn't even dirty from Blaze’s hole—I could briefly hear Mr. Darkcloud say, ' Elmer cleans `em all out in the morning and again after each feeding.' But I couldn't do it. I know that if I did, I'd succumb to this man’s will.

A hand found my shoulder. It pressed with the softest of pressure. I fell to my knees. The cock swung to and fro. To and fro. It was right there, right in front of my face. Hands grabbed my shirt and hauled it up my torso. I gained some clarity as it passed over my face, covering my eyes momentarily. Sucking on that gorgeous cock would ruin me. I knew it. It would destroy the carefully constructed walls separating fantasy from reality and put at risk the very life I'd created for myself over the past thirty years of my existence. Could I really risk throwing all that away to lose my free will and become entirely indebted to this man before me? But it’s a fantasy game. My arms lifted, and the shirt came off. The cock was still there, swinging. To and fro. To and fro.


I sucked. My mouth met his dick, and it was divine. It was succulent. Hard but flexible. I reached up with my hands to add to the blowjob.

"No hands," came the order from above. I put my hands down.

"Good boy." His words made me feel good. They encouraged me and, at the same time, put me in my place. It felt good to let go, to let someone else take control. To give in and follow orders.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered. I attempted to pull off his cock to unbutton my jeans, but a hand clasped the back of my head. "Keep my cock in your mouth, boy." I struggled to remove my pants but managed to slide them off. I had made sure I only took a good six inches in my mouth to prevent gagging, but as I struggled, it started to slide in and out further and further. I started to gag a little, so I pulled back, but the hand prevented me from sliding off that throbbing member.

I kicked off my tennis shoes and pulled off my socks, followed by my jeans and boxers. I was unabashedly naked, entirely at the mercy of the man towering over me. I wasn't as muscular as Blaze or Mr. Darkcloud, but I was a solid 175 lbs of lean athleticism. My dick throbbed hard and stood at attention, begging for some physical touch. I reached down with my hands and—

"Ah, ah, ah. Hands off your little dicklet, boy. Focus on your Master’s cock."

“My Master’s cock?” I wasn't a slave. This was just a simple heated encounter between two hot guys. Great. But with a slave on the side? That didn't sound quite normal. I was acting quite submissive though perhaps I shouldn't let him do exactly what he wanted, or he might convince me to do more

"All fours, boy. I wanna see that fine ass." His cock slipped from my mouth, saliva and pre-cum dripping on the floor. I was fucking horny, like a dog in heat. Jesus, how did he have this effect on me?

I spread my hands and legs, getting into the doggy position. "Here, let me help you out, boy. Don't want you hurting yourself." He knelt on my right-hand side and grabbed for my right hand. He balled it up and produced a type of glove out of nowhere. Where did he find that? He pulled it over my closed hand and fastened it around my wrist. Then the click of a padlock. He did the same to my left hand.

"Just wanna make sure you don't scrape up your paws, boy," he laughed.

“Paws?” I could not open my hands. They became useless... paws.

Then he took a position behind me, just as he did Blaze. I just wanted him in me, regardless of how big he was. I needed that cock in my ass.

Something flashed across my eyes. "Open up," he said, and a ball gag entered my mouth. Of course, I had seen one but never used one or had one in my mouth. "Good slave," he added, strapping it securely behind my head. Where did this `slave' come from? Was he talking to Blaze? This was just an interview-turned-fuck-session.

I felt pressure at my hole. Here it comes. He was going to breed me. I couldn't wait. I began to fantasize about being his slave, obeying his every directive. I could work on the farm, build up a massively muscular body like Blaze and Spike, and get my own stall with a head harness. I'd be shaved from head to toe—I've been shaved bald before and was told I looked good, especially with my lean body and visible abs—which wouldn't be too bad. He could then brand me as his property, and Elmer, who I'm sure was just as hot as Mr. Darkcloud, could train me in the stables.

Darkcloud took me from behind and entered me slowly at first. I'd jacked myself off with an 8”-inch dildo for the last two weeks, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to fit him inside me. "There’s a good slave," he said, settling into a rhythm. He pounded me again, and again, and again. I felt so full and so fucking hot. I was in heaven.

"Drink, slave." A hand pushed on my head and lowered my face into the trough. With the gag on, I couldn't lap up any water, but I pretended to, just to please him. I suspected he got off on me acting like one of his personal slaves.

"Good slave," he said. He grabbed both my hips and started hammering into me. I could tell he was getting close as his breathing grew faster, more aggressive, and more desperate.

"MMMM," I moaned into the gag. Every thrust was hitting a fucking pressure point that elicited inexplicable elation. There was an indescribable craving that needed to be sated, and only Master’s cock could do it.

Master’s cock? A sudden plowing filled me to the brim. I could feel his juices enter me, and he growled like a bear empowered with ferocity. The growl reached an apex, and he stayed in me while his semen stuffed my hole.

"Fuckin' nice hole, slave," he said once he could catch his breath. I moaned in response, my cock aching for release. He patted my cheeks before pulling out and standing up. I could still hear his breathing. I turned my head, and his hands grabbed my gag, removing it from my mouth.

"Clean me off, slave," he ordered, that gorgeous pendulum swaying in my face again. I eagerly cleaned his cock, sucking on it as if my life depended on it. When I was done, he put the gag back in my mouth and locked it there. I looked confused for a moment, which I knew he saw because he laughed. "Slave, I think you and I knew where this was headed when you showed up on my doorstep today. You need this. And I need you. So, welcome to the farm!" My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. I disagreed with this!

"You're probably thinking you didn't agree to this, right?" he said. "That’s what most of the guys think. But you know what really tells the tale? A slave’s cock. And look at your cock, slave."

I looked down and saw that my cock was nearly bright red, very stiff, bobbing and dripping with pre-cum. I so badly wanted to cum, and looking at this man before me, I knew this hard-on wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Yeah, you need this. You desire this. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. Elmer will be home soon, and we'll get started on your training. If by the end of the weekend, you aren't satisfied, then you can go back to your boring job in the city where you'll live the rest of your life, regretting not being my slave."

I vaguely heard what he'd said. I was too busy staring at his cock, enticed by its length and subtle spasming movements. But I heard him laugh.

"Slave, you're already completely addicted to my cock." He ran it across my face, a small bit of my saliva from the cleaning running down my cheek. "There’s more where that came from. And there’s plenty of work for you to do, as well! Trust me, this will be one interview you'll never forget!"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" I was on all fours, gagged, and wearing paws locked onto my fists. My head was resting on the edge of the trough of water when a voice echoed from the barn's side door. Someone new had entered the room.

Darkcloud, still naked, chuckled. I couldn't see him above me, but I heard him respond. "Hey, Elmer. Remember that journalist that was dropping by about the kink stuff?"

“You mean the straight young man who just wanted a quick interview about kinky shit?”

“Yea, Elm, well, here he is?” They both laughed.

x Mr. Darkcloud’s Farm
Part 3 of 5

I turned my head slightly to the left to get a look at him. Elmer was a mountain of a man, similar in build to my Master but with close-cropped dark hair and steel-blue eyes. He wore a chest harness and big black boots and carried a long, black flogger in one hand. I couldn't place his age, but he looked older than me.

Master laughed again. "Of course! This one was fucking easy. Had a hard-on the moment I opened the door and couldn't wait to take a look at all the slaves. He asked for an interview before visiting the slaves. He’s a fucking horn dog. Look at his fucking dicklet."

It’s true. I was leaking cum furiously from my hard-on. I wasn't particularly into voyeurism, but watching Elmer stare at me with smugness and desire was incredibly intoxicating.

Suddenly, a fullness entered my ass. "This one needs to be bred often." Master was fucking me again! "Feels so fucking good." He punctuated each word with a thrust into my hole. Normally I'd be aghast at the intrusion, but his cock felt so fucking good. I didn't realize how much my body wanted it. Each thrust felt whole and good and so incredibly pleasurable.

I was so into the rhythm that I was startled when hands grasped my head. It was Elmer. He carefully lifted my head and positioned himself on the edge of the trough. I noticed his jeans were undone and, once he'd sat down, out flopped his thick dick in front of my face. "Guess we should break this one in a bit more." He unclasped the gag and laid it next to him.

I stretched my mouth and jaw briefly, relaxing the soft ache before Elmer’s hands drew my head forward. The pounding in my ass never let up for even a moment. Mr. Darkcloud’s cock was like a piston, hammering home again and again and again. Elmer’s beautiful dick rose to greet my mouth, and within seconds I was trying to siphon the cum out of him. It was so gratifying, pleasing these two large beasts of men simultaneously. On some level, I knew I wanted this, knew I needed this.

But on another level, some of me still believed I could go whenever I wanted. This was just a moment of passion—a fling, a fantasy. After the fuck session, I'd finish up the interview and then head back to the city to write my article. Indeed, they couldn't just keep me here. Admittedly, I was freelance, and with very little free time, I didn't have too many friends or connections. My family didn't live in this state (and I didn't see them too often), so no one would probably come looking for me for some time. I didn't even tell anyone I was coming here because I wanted to preserve Mr. Darkcloud’s anonymity

"So," Elmer said with a satisfied look as I sucked him off, "What do you want to be done to the bitch?" It tasted so fucking good. Pre-cum practically flowed out of him and mixed with my saliva, kept me wanting more.

Mr. Darkcloud grunted loudly, nearing climax. "FUCK!" he shouted, exploding inside me with one final thrust. I could feel my hole fill with semen, a pleasant, filling feeling. He panted noisily before smacking my ass a few times. "Change of plans for this slave." My ears perked up. "The thing is, slave, we already have enough cattle. We don't need more labor slaves." I continued bobbing up and down on Elmer’s girth, his hand guiding me, but Master had my full attention. "First," he directed to Elmer, "I want the standard protocol done: shave, collar, gear, regime, and objectification. Then, I've got something different in mind."

I was about to pull my head off Elmer’s cock to ask what he meant, but Master’s firm hand pressed against the back of my head and shoved me further onto his trainer’s tool. "Keep sucking, slave. I want you to swallow all that cum."

I continued nodding up and down until Elmer’s breathing hit a fever pitch. He came with an “AAAAHHHHH!” his cum squirting down my throat. I couldn't move, locked between the two men, Master’s cock still plugging my ass as his played reached under my chest to play with my nipples, tweaking and twisting them, driving me into further ecstasy. I swallowed all of Elmer's manly juice and then cleaned him off.

"Alright," Elmer said before standing and zipping up his jeans. "I'll grab the shaving kit."

Master pulled out of my asshole and had me clean him off again. I sucked gently, savoring the various tastes. He grabbed me by the neck, forced my mouth off him, and slammed the gag back on. "It’s time, slave. Come with me." He reached the nearest stall and grabbed what looked like a leash. He clipped it to a ring on the back of the gag before tugging hard, forcing me to crawl behind him on all fours, gagged and without using my hands, which were balled into fists in the mitts.

As we rounded the corner to the stall, I noticed Elmer inside. He was opening a kit with clippers, razors, scissors, and some other cutting implements. "Time for a trim, slave!" he smiled a big grin. There was some kind of liquid in a jar on a stool beside him. It was a very dark blue with some instruments I couldn't identify sitting in it. "Let’s get you lookin' pretty."

I tried to back up. I didn't want to be shaved! Master tugged on the leash, pulling me up short. I couldn't scoot around the corner. "Slave, get on the pedestal." He pointed to a small stack of pallets, maybe five high, next to the stool.

I resisted. This was getting a little too real now. Two hunks with bulging muscles were forcing me to get shaved. I tried to ration that perhaps it was just one of those body shaves one gets done at the spa, but my mind flashed back to Spike and his hairless body. And Mr. Darkcloud’s words: "Slaves who have proven their loyalty and service are allowed to grow back hair on their head."

"Get - the fuck - on the pedestal," Master yelled aloud, yanking me forward and forcing me to fall over. I hastened to all fours and crawled as quickly as I could to the pallets. I didn't want to make him angry—he was an absolute monster in size and strength. Mr. Darkcloud bent over and easily picked me up before placing me on top of the wooden stack. He grabbed a nearby roll of tape, ripped two pieces off, and attached them to my eyebrows.

“Up here, I didn't want to move too much. “There were holes in the pallets, and the stack wasn't entirely stable. It swayed to one side if I moved too quickly or shifted too much weight. So, I remained as still as possible, afraid of falling over and hitting the ground from this height.

Elmer reached over and picked up some brush from the liquid. "Just gonna wash you down a bit," he said, rubbing the salve over the hair on my head. It was a thick, viscous blue liquid, almost like a sludge, and he covered my head and face with it. Then, he dipped the brush in the jar and coated my back. Mr. Darkcloud stood there, naked, and watched with arms folded over his strong chest. His large cock swung lightly in that hypnotizing pendulum motion.

"Shouldn't take too long, Boss. You want me to call you when he’s ready?" Elmer asked.

"Yeah, sure." Mr. Darkcloud turned to leave but stopped short. "Actually, tell ya what, I have to go into town this evening for some gear, so how about I come back out here tomorrow?"

"Some new gear?" Elmer asked, lathering my balls, my cock, and my stomach and chest. The liquid didn't seem to hurt or sting. It just gripped a bit tight.

"Yeah, I was thinking of posting a new ad for a slave—nothing labor intensive—but I think I've found the perfect candidate." His eyes bore into mine. Some of the liquid dripped into view, so I had to close my eyes or risk touching the blue goo.

"Sounds interesting," Elmer said. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see you later." And with that, Mr. Darkcloud left the barn.

"I'm excited to see the new you, slave!" Elmer said. He had a much more pleasant attitude than Master, which I appreciated. I hoped this liquid was just for cleaning purposes, though, and that the only thing being shaved was my pubes. That was the usual kink for shaving, right?

Soon, my entire body was coated in the sticky blue liquid. The liquid Elmer applied first began to dry, and the solidification began to sting slightly. I grimaced in pain.

"Oh, don't worry about it too much," Elmer said, "it'll come right off when I use the hose."

The hose? A sudden rush of water hit me then. Elmer sprayed a cold fountain over my body, which caused the drying blue liquid to liquefy again. It ran down my arms, stomach, back, and legs, slipping through the cracks of the pallets. When he was done, Elmer wet a nearby towel and used it on my head, face, and neck. I appreciated him avoiding spraying me in the face.

"How’s that feel, slave?"

I grunted, hoping that meant `OK.' My skin glistened, feeling sufficiently cleansed. I realized I was rock hard after the cleaning. Was he going to shave me now?

"Take a look! You look great!" Elmer said. I looked up at him and noticed he held a mirror. If I had the gag out, I would have SCREAMED! All the hair on my head was gone! I was fucking bald! I squinted and searched the mirror in alarm, checking for my pubes. Yep, confirmed, all removed. Arms, legs, the smattering on my chest. All gone. What the fuck!

"That’s a good slave." Elmer reached forward and ripped the tape off my eyebrows.

“OOWWEE!!” The remaining part of my body that still had hair was now also bald.

"Next, we gotta collar you." He stepped to the corner of the stall and produced a metal collar. Oh, fuck. I tried to bolt off the pallets for the door, but one of my legs still had a bit of the blue goo adhering to the top pallet. The stack teetered forward, but I skittered back to prevent injury. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind.

"Careful, slave. You don't wanna hurt yourself." Elmer kept one strong hand holding me into the pallet as the other carefully enclosed the collar around my neck. When he was satisfied with the placement, “OK, stay still as I get the welder.” I was too terrified to move. "We gotta permanently seal this around your neck.”

I didn't dare move in case the flame from the welding tool fried my skin. After a good two or three minutes, Elmer turned it off and told me to wait for it to cool. With his gloves on, he held the collar so that the welded seems didn't directly touch my skin, waiting for it to cool off. When done, he let go. Damn! The fucking metal collar must have weighed twenty pounds!

How could they do this to me? I came here to learn about kink for an article, not to become a slave. Who the fuck was this Mr. Darkcloud to think that he could just enslave me against my will. I decided that, at the first opportunity, I would escape.

My cock was betraying me, however, leaking like a fucking faucet. Admittedly, this gorgeous hunk was turning me into a slave, one of my greatest fantasies, but I would not give Mr. Darkcloud the satisfaction of thinking he “owned” me.

No sooner had I thought that. I nearly came on the spot. Elmer was jacking me off, slowly teasing my cock with his strong hands. "You like that, slave?" he asked. Of course, I fucking did. It felt like fucking heaven. But I was not going to admit it! I moved back and forth slightly to get more friction but was careful not to cause the pallets to move too much. "Yeah, I figured you did. Fucking slut."

He let go of my cock and moved back to the corner where his supply cabinet was, and returned with a bunch of stuff in his hands. "Gear time! Time to dress you up for the role, slave."

He pulled out different kink and BDSM devices: nipple clamps, a blindfold, several butt plugs, dildos, leather restraints, and some harnesses. Quickly, he attached the leather restraints to my wrists and ankles—the kind that wraps around and has a small ring attached to them so that rope, padlocks, or chains can be connected to them. My paws were still on. He then produced a bottle of lube and slowly worked my hole into a frenzy. I was nearly bucking in place, trying to get him to fuck me more. He smiled. "Horny slave, that’s good." He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with a larger butt plug. My hole resisted. It was too big. Elmer twisted and jiggled it and slowly pushed it in until my ass lips swallowed it and sealed around its base. Boy, was I stuffed! I tried to settle down and relax, but then Elmer held up a rubber squeeze pump and inflated the dildo even larger. I moaned into the gag, both in pleasure and in pain. PLEASE, I thought, FUCK. I couldn't even voice coherent thoughts with the feeling it gave me.

He stopped touching me for a while because he knew I would climax! I was so close. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! The bastard knew how close I was. I supposed he had practice in knowing when a slave was near cumming. And now I was one of them. That thought alone nearly made me cum.

I reflected on how he shaved me completely and how embarrassing that was. FUCK! he attached the nipple clamps. There was intense pain, I was about to puke, but I held my ground on the pallets to prevent falling over. "Give it a bit of time," Elmer said. Sure enough, he was right. Another minute or so went by, and the pain began to subside, becoming a dull ache that throbbed with both pain and pleasure.

He strapped a harness around my head and then attached a ball gag to it before tightening the straps in the back. This secured the gag in my mouth by putting pressure to keep my full and jaw taut, "Next up is the regime. We follow a regular protocol here for inducting new slaves into the barn. I'm not sure what the Boss has planned for you, slave, but no worries! We'll get you ready for any scenario he’s got planned! Now, stand up."

Elmer helped me off the wobbly stack of pallets. I stood next to him and noticed a pair of black leather boots on the ground for the first time. "Here, let me put these on you." I allowed him to place the boots on my naked feet. These were form-fitting laced-up boots. He laced them tight and readjusted the ankle restraints on top of the boots before locking them in place with small padlocks. I could not remove my paws or the boots on my feet. The ball gag had found a comfortable place in my mouth where it didn't hurt too badly, and the butt plug, black and full, stretched my hole to its limits.

"Listen, we have to break you in. Up `til now, we’ve been treating you like a playful child, so gentle and easy." WHAT THE FUCK! "We need to change that up a bit. Get you feeling like a slave. So, follow me." I began to walk next to him, unsure how I'd make my escape with this massive, gorgeous man next to me. "No," he said, his happy nature disappearing. "On all fours, slave."

Fuck, this was humiliating. I dropped to all fours again and crawled as Elmer walked alongside me.

"Over here," Elmer said. I took one look and understood where this was heading. Blaze was still at the trough but no longer feeding. Apparently, slaves just stayed where they were last put until told otherwise.

"Blaze!" Elmer yelled, "Come over here!" Blaze crawled towards us, coming to a stop in front of Elmer. Elmer turned to me. "Now, bitch, turn around." I hesitated. Blaze was attractive, but he was clearly a submissive slave, way, way beyond coherent thought. It was like watching a robot or drone moving. A robotic being.

A sharp pain hit my back. "I said TURN AROUND!" Elmer yelled. At some point, he'd grabbed a flogger. It hurt like fuck. I turned around, my ass facing Blaze.

"Pull out his plug, Blaze."

x Mr. Darkcloud’s Farm
Part 4 of 5

He flicked a tab to let out the air. Guess he was trained on all this gear. He yanked on it repeatedly. I felt an extremely painful sensation as Blaze struggled to get the plug out of my ass. It stretched and stretched, both causing immense pain but also making me aware of how much my cock was leaking.

Eventually, it plopped out. "Mount the faggot, Blaze." Blaze was on top of me within seconds, forcing himself inside my ass. "You like that, slave?" Elmer said, hitting me in the back again with the flogger. FUCK, that hurt. "Fucking slut. Take that faggot dick. You're getting fucked by a slave that was ordered to fuck you. How does that feel, slave? Completely out of your control what goes in your ass. It doesn't even know it’s fucking you in the ass!" He laughed.

Blaze was fucking strong, bucking me forward along the ground. Thank God for the boots and the gloves. I grunted as we shuffled along the ground in front of Elmer.

"Boss usually lets me name you fucks." Where did this change in Elmer suddenly come from? This brash, crude man? Is this his Trainer side? "So, what should I rename you? Whatever name you get, it’s what you'll be known by for the rest of your life." I wanted to reply that I would not be here for the rest of my life, but Blaze had shoved me up against one of the stalls now. With nowhere to go, I just stayed in place as he rammed me against the wall repeatedly, pounding my sore ass.

"I think I'll call you Ass Licker."


"That’s your new name. Now, I know you are a fast learner and a good boy, I may upgrade your name in a year or two, but we’ll see. But for now, welcome to the stable, Ass Licker." There’s no way that was my… Fuck, Blaze was not being gentle at all. "Fuck Ass Licker deep in his shit shoot." Elmer laughed. He thought it was funny. FUCK, Blaze rammed me continuously.

"I'll get you a tag made tomorrow. We'll also have a tattoo artist here for ya. Your Master arranged it a few days ago."

Did he arrange it a few days ago? That was when I first made contact with him. The fucker just assumed he could seduce me into this situation? What the fuck! I thought.

"It'll be fun breaking you, Ass Licker. Getting you to accept your new name, your new life. Sometimes they don't accept it at first, and that’s honestly the best part." Elmer started whipping me with the flogger again, adding to the pain. "I love when they struggle and fight back." Another hit. My back was on fire. "Makes it all the more gratifying when they finally break. And make no mistake, slave, you WILL break."

Finally, Blaze blew his load in my hole and stopped pushing me against the wall. I could get some relief. "OK, Blaze, that’s enough." Blaze’s cock slipped out of me, and, for some weird reason, I missed it. I missed having something inside me.

I watched from the ground as Elmer led Blaze just outside the barn, allowing him to pee while on all fours like a dog. Disgusting. My cock disagreed. It has been leaking all afternoon, but I would not become like that fucking slave. No way would I be made to act and piss like a dog. I attempted to stand but found my legs and back burning from the flogger and the pounding.

I noticed Elmer still had an eye on me from the doorway. As soon as Blaze was done, Elmer brought him back inside. He grabbed my leash and hauled me to Blaze’s stall, re-attaching the harness and locking him in place. "You've got a lot of work to do tomorrow, Blaze. But you've been good this week!" He patted Blaze’s cock and head before yanking me towards the stall with the pallets where I had been shaved and `geared.'

A phone rang. It was coming from Elmer’s pocket. He answered it. "Yeah?... What do you need?... Oh, really?... Alright, alright, I'll lock him up." He hung up the phone. "Turns out the Boss needs some errands run, slave. So I'll have to truss you up for the night and start your brainwashing."

Wait, brainwashing?

Elmer hauled me into a standing position and attached the head harness to a hook overhead. He pulled on a rope, winching the hook upwards until I was nearly on my tiptoes. Then, he went to the corner again, grabbed some large pieces of canvas, and returned. "I love this part. Can't have you fidgeting." He produced a straitjacket. First, he had to remove my paws before he could fit it on. He then proceeded to push my arms inside the extremely long sleeves. Then he bucked the row of fasteners down my back. Lastly, he pulled on the long sleeves and wrapped them around my back, securing them there. The blindfold he put away earlier was then placed over my eyes. I could no longer see anything but could feel the drool from my gagged mouth rolling down my chin.

A spreader bar was then attached to the ring on my ankle restraints. Fucker was making sure I was nearly immovable. "Good Ass Licker. Good slave," Elmer said, patting me on the head. "One more thing." I felt the slippery rubber invade my ass. They went in easily, already having been fucked by three cocks today. "Gotta fill you up." The butt plug entered my hole again. Never an easy task. Elmer inflated it to its previous gargantuan size, stretching me to the brim.

"And one final touch," he said. I felt something cover my ears. Headphones. At first, I couldn't hear anything. TAP. TAP. I could feel Elmer tapping on the back of my neck, but I couldn't hear anything except some muffled words.

Suddenly, a voice invaded my mind. A soft, soothing voice. It sounded like Mr. Darkcloud', but at a much slower pace and a much lower register.

"I am a slave. I belong to Master Darkcloud. My purpose is to service Master Darkcloud. Master Darkcloud is my Master. I am a slave. I am property. I have no rights. I am nothing. I am worth nothing.'

"I am a slave. My life belongs to my Master. My Master is Master Darkcloud. I will obey Master Darkcloud, and I will obey Elmer, his trainer. Elmer is my Trainer. I must serve Trainer Elmer. My thoughts are not my own. I am a slave. I belong to my Master."

This was a recording. What did Elmer say? Was it meant to brainwash me? "I am a slave. My thoughts are not my own. My thoughts belong to my Master. My Master is Master Darkcloud. I must give up any resistance. My thoughts are not my own. My thoughts belong to my Master. My Master is Master Darkcloud."

Is this what my life had come to? "I am a slave. My thoughts are not my own. My actions are not my own. I will obey my Master. My Master is Master Darkcloud. Master Darkcloud controls my thoughts and my actions. Everything I do, I do for my Master." It was getting hard to think. The voice was pervasive. It was soothing. It was charismatic. "I am a slave. These are my thoughts. These thoughts belong to my Master. My Master is Master Darkcloud. I am property. I belong to Master Darkcloud."

The voice was hypnotizing. Mesmerizing. I didn't believe in hypnotism. It wasn't real. But this voice was so alluring. "I am a slave. These are my thoughts. I must repeat these thoughts. Say, `I am a slave.' Say, `I must obey.' Say, `I belong to my Master.' Say, `Master Darkcloud is my master.'"

It was addicting. And I was so tired. I wanted to sleep, but the voice was bringing me somewhere.

"I am a slave. These are my thoughts. I must repeat these thoughts. Say, `I am a slave.' Say, `I must obey.' Say, `I belong to my Master.' Say, `Master Darkcloud is my master.'"

I must say these words, these thoughts

"I am a slave. These are my thoughts. I must repeat these thoughts. Say, `I am a slave.' Say, `I must obey.' Say, `I belong to my Master.' Say, `Master Darkcloud is my master.'"

These thoughts are my Master’s, so they are mine: I am a slave. I must obey. I belong to my Master. Master Darkcloud is my Master. I am a slave. The soothing, encouraging chant put me to sleep.

"Time to wake up, Ass Licker," a voice said. My mind felt groggy, and my mouth fell asleep. I tried to move my jaw but realized the ball gag was still in. I felt some tugging on my arms and realized the straitjacket and the headphones had been removed at some point. "Gonna have a fun day, you and me."

I recognized the voice as my Master. My arms felt incredibly heavy and in pain, being locked and twisted in the past twenty-four hours. A small pain in my ass reminded me of the inflated plug that was back inside me, especially after Master tapped it with his hand.

Why was I calling him my Master in my head? He seemed to register the confused look on my face. "I suppose you're wondering about brainwashing. Yeah, in case you weren't aware, that kind of hypnosis isn't as effective as one might believe. It’s mostly a way to transform your subconscious—how you think, what you think about. It’s not a magic `make-you-a-slave-overnight' kinda thing. You'll start thinking of me as Master, Elmer as Trainer, and yourself and others as inferior as slaves. It'll take repeated sessions to make your mind believe you’re a slave. You'll continue to resist at times, but you'll break eventually. They all do."

My eyes widened at the thought. I had subconsciously thought of him as MY MASTER, not Mr. Darkcloud. It was an easy mistake to make, I thought. The blindfold was removed, and I could see him then: he was wearing a leather harness on his chest and leather chaps. A leather jock with spikes covered his erect cock. I couldn't help but stare at it, reminded of how thoroughly it had fucked me just yesterday.

"Yeah, I figured that’s the first thing you'd check out, Ass Licker. You dirty slave."

Stop calling me Ass Licker! I wanted to scream. That wasn't my name. It was Rhett, Rhett Chamberlin. Yeah, sure, I'd fantasized before about becoming a 24/7 slave, but that was strictly an imagined reality, a daydream of horny proportion. I didn't consider being enslaved as a realistic option in my life.

"Elmer is going to be working with the other slaves today, and I finished up the business side of things for the next week yesterday. I've got you all to myself for Saturday and Sunday. So, time to get you oriented in your new role, Ass Licker."

With the head harness still attached to the ceiling and my legs still in the spreader bar, the best I could do was rotate in place. My arms were no longer constricted, but I had my paws on. Master produced a chain from somewhere and attached it to the ring on my leather paws. He then attached the rather short chain to my collar. I had maybe a six inched of slack between my wrists and the collar, and it was highly uncomfortable. My best position was to bend my wrists forward, much like a pleading puppy on two legs would look. It was a bit humiliating, walking around looking limp-wristed. I had a strong muscular build, and while I wasn't as big as Master Darkcloud and Trainer Elmer, I felt diminished being reduced to this pleading puppy position.

"I love working on new slaves," Master Darkcloud said, unhooking the spreader bar, allowing my feet to move freely. "Controlling you, transforming you, making you give in to your greatest fantasies and making them become a reality. Think about it, slave. The only one who knows what you want—what you need—is the dominant Master who stands before you. Deep down, you don't want to make decisions—and certainly not life-changing ones. What is work? A career? Friendships and social life? What are they, really? They're nothing."

I was transfixed by his words. He used the same soothing voice that I was subjected to the previous night while wearing the headphones. It was calming, strong, confident, and charismatic. I felt enveloped by the comfort of his warm cadence and calming, penetrating thoughts.

"What IS worth something is being useful in your body. It can be put to work. And with your ability to write, conjure up words, and create something easy to read, you can be even more useful. But that will come with time. For now, you can let go. You can obey. You can take comfort in having a strong, determined man make decisions for you. No longer do you have second guess yourself, or live paycheck to paycheck? No, you can live with me," he hugged me from behind, standing in the middle of the barn, "and you can enjoy this wonderful life." He kissed me on the neck then, right above the heavy collar. "This life can be yours, Ass Licker. This life—it WILL be yours."

He unfastened me from the headgear and removed the spreader bar. He then stepped in front of me and led me by the leash. It tugged me forward, and we walked through the barn. We walked past Blaze, strong and resolute in his stall, still sleeping. His cock was locked up again in its cock cage. I was salivating at the mouth, just staring at his perfect physique, and, on some level, I wanted to have my cock locked up just like his.

For now, though, my cock stood at attention. The words from my Master and the slave gear I was still wearing kept me rock hard. I guess I still felt this whole scenario would end once the weekend was over, and I would just go back to work. In the back of my mind, I knew that wasn't true. I was trying to justify this enslavement as temporary—a fantasy that would end, and I would go back to the city as if none of this had ever happened. I would resume skimming kinky online stories for BDSM, such as on GayTies.com.

"Don't get complacent on me, Ass Licker," Master Darkcloud said, tugging the leash harder. I nearly lost my footing, not realizing that I'd stopped moving to daydream. "We've got a full day ahead of us!" he said, a dazzling white smile on his face, with his short blond hair and thick, lightly furred chest shining in the sunlight. I could melt just looking at him.

We passed Spike to my right, his dark skin glowing in the morning rays. Athletic and large, I wanted to nibble on his nips, kneel in front of him and take him whole. He was gorgeous, and after seeing Master Darkcloud looking happy and hot, I was incredibly turned on.

We stepped out of the barn, and the first thing Master Darkcloud did was pull me over to one side. "Gotta clean you off, slave." He grabbed a hose, turned a nearby valve, and a torrent of water came pouring out. It was sometime mid-morning and in the middle of the summer, so it wasn't too cold out, but once the water hit me, it felt like my body dropped a good ten degrees. My muscles shook with cold, and he'd finished putting the hose away.

He seemingly grabbed a towel from a small cupboard outside the barn and wrapped it around my body, drying me off. "Don't worry," Master Darkcloud said, "you won't be too dry for long." He winked at me. He picked up the leash and proceeded to bring me towards the house.

As we entered, Wolf immediately started barking at me. "Quiet!" Master shouted, a pointed look at the mutt. "We got a new dog to add to the fold," he said.

Wait, a new dog?

"Over here, Ass Licker." The leash tugged me toward a walk-in closet inside the kitchen. "Kneel." I obliged. There wasn't much else I could do in my condition but obey the man leading me around. "Good dog. You'll obey all my orders from here on out—not like you'd disobey anyway. You love serving a dominant man, don't you, boy?"

This was different than the slave training. Before this, he'd purposely avoided using `boy' or any terms of endearment. Was he training me in different aspects of servitude? Would tomorrow be a different kind of training?

"You see, boy, I don't usually take house slaves. The farm slaves live in the stable, and Elmer and I stay in the house. But Elmer and I realized that, with our farm growing, it’s not sustainable to have to do everything around the house for much longer. So, we've come up with a plan. We have two positions opening: dog slave and house slave. Wolf here is getting old," I looked over at the large black Lab behind us, tail wagging and staring at me almost cruelly, "so, we need a new dog. And since you're so good at taking orders, I'm giving you an offer: dog slave or house slave. Chances are you won't be able to do both since we are quite strict regarding the mindset of a particular slave. As a dog slave, you'd lose the ability to think for yourself over time and become an extension of a regular dog. Except for the sexual part, of course. I'm not into bestiality, but if we transform a human into a dog, it’s not illegal, now is it?"

I didn't think I wanted to be a dog slave. My entire livelihood revolved around writing articles about kink, not being the focus or subject of the kink. I enjoyed informing others about the sexual aspects of the different disciplines and the sadomasochism and bondage side of things. Would I really want to lose the ability to do that? To become a mindless dog?

x Mr. Darkcloud’s Farm
Part 5 of 5

"OR," Master interjected, "you can continue your work writing kink but under my supervision. You'll be trained as a house slave, and when you're not cooking, cleaning, working out, sleeping, or performing sexually, you'll be chained to a desk and a chair with a computer and be writing. You'll write what I want you to write. Maybe not any of your journalistic stories, but instead, you might be writing erotic fiction. Or maybe advertisements for our farm—we will need a new dog, after all. And I can have you take my spot as the one responding to requests from slaves—I won't have too much free time soon. You'll pretend to be me, act like me online, and persuade gullible slaves to come here so we can train them. It'll be great!"

I was only half-listening, noticing the throbbing emanating from his nether regions. He was getting turned on just talking about slaves. Dog slaves, house slaves, farm slaves, farm animals, all of it. How many slaves could they even support? I only knew of three: Spike, Blaze, and Ass Licker—I mean, myself. But I was only temporarily fulfilling this fetish fantasy for the weekend.

"Getting hungry, slave?" Master Darkcloud asked, unbuttoning the covering on his cock. His large member swung outward and down, slightly swaying back and forth. That damn pendulum effect. It was mesmerizing.

He reached behind my head and unclasped the gag, letting it fall to the floor. "Suck," he commanded. I hungrily devoured his cock, slobbering all over that thick meat. To show him how good I was getting, I aimed to go deeper than yesterday without gagging. All that practice is being put to good use.

"Good boy," he said. He placed a hand on the back of my head and forced my mouth up and down. "On the plus side, upgrading to the house means you get to be called `boy,' Ass Licker. You're still lower than the farm slaves on the totem pole, though. At least they provide physical perfection and manual labor and have been trained to be used sexually. On the other hand, you need to maintain your current physique—I like to have the weaker slaves in the house." Weak? I was 175 lbs. of lean muscle! "The stronger slaves sometimes give the appearance of physically threatening to guests that Elmer and I have over." I wondered what kinds of guests he was talking about. "And while the guests usually enjoy the look of the farm slaves, they can be quite intimidating. Especially the older ones. No one wants to feel inferior when fucking a slave, which the farm slaves sometimes unknowingly do because of their perfection."

If I wasn't sucking my Master’s amazing dick, I'd probably have made an annoyed face at that comment. I knew I wasn't the hottest guy on the planet, but I turned heads daily.

"You, however, are not threatening at all." He looked down into my head, hand still controlling the pace of my bobbing. "Look at you. You've been here a day, and already I've got you tied up, kneeling before me, naked, shaved, collared, and sucking my huge cock." I wanted to protest but realized that he was telling the truth. Master had completely broken down my defenses, letting me give in to my sexual fantasies, and controlled me through my horniness. "Yeah, I know how to read faggots like you. Little slut boys who just want to be used. Who wants to be led around by a real man? Who wants to find some purpose in your meaningless existence? That’s what I'm here for? I'm why you were born to meet and serve me for the rest of your Ass Licker-ful life. I give you purpose, boy. You best remember that."

And with that, I could even feel the strain of his cock as it reached climax. A few final slurps, some thrusts from Master Darkcloud, and he held my mouth down on his cock as he shot spurt after spurt of cum down my throat. My nose met his pubes as he buried my face between his legs. "Good boy," he said, patting the back of my throat with his other hand. After a few seconds, I began to choke. I couldn't draw in any air with his cock lodged in my throat. He relented, letting me breathe after he was satisfied that I'd swallowed all of his cum.

"Regardless," he said, putting the leather jock back on, "all slaves eat the same way. So, start eating." He pointed to two bowls on the floor to my right. One was filled with water, and the other was some kind of mush. "It’s pretty much the same as the gruel from the trough in the stables, but with a bit of dog food mushed in."

I sniffed at it, recoiling at the smell. At least the gruel was bland. "Boy, don't make me force you." He kicked the plug in my hole, causing a forced `yelp' out of me. "Eat." I didn't even consider talking back to Master. With my paws tied up the way they were, I couldn't do much to resist him. I leaned forward a bit to get closer. My stomach growled. Loudly.

"Sounds like you're starving, boy. Dig in." It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how hungry I was. Master’s cum didn't satiate me, and suddenly the dog food didn't seem too gross to me. I took in a mouthful of dog food. It honestly wasn't as horrible as I'd imagined it would taste. The consistency was near baby food and gruel—there weren’t any chunks to chew, just some slightly harder balls of food than the rest. With the first mouthful, my body—and mind—became eager to chow down on the rest of it. I scarfed the whole bowl down within the span of a few minutes.

"Good boy," Master said, patting me on the head. "Go on, lick it clean." I obeyed. I licked the bowl clean of all bits and pieces, feeling that painful Ass Licker in my stomach disappear, and it finally got some sustenance in it. "That’s a good boy, Ass Licker." Master scratched behind my ears as I finished it off. It felt good. "Now, drink up." I quickly drink the bowl of water. Like hunger, I didn't realize how thirsty I was after the `workouts' I received yesterday. My muscles were glad for both the protein and the hydration.

"Now, I'm feelin' a bit lazy and don't want to go to the bathroom, so here you go, Ass Licker. Just for you." He pulled his cock out again. I instantly wanted to make him cum again. It was uncut, and when he peeled it back, I wanted to slobber my tongue all over it and make him hard again. I watched as piss shot out of his cock and began to fill the water dish I had just drank out of.

I understood what he wanted. I wasn't someone who was really into watersports. I once drank my piss a few times on a dare with some buddies in college and once while I was camming with a guy online. It was hot, sure, but in that "I can't believe I'm doing this" kind of way. To do this for Master Darkcloud to make it seem like an everyday, standard drink

"Drink up, Ass Licker. You can dig right in whenever you see your bowls full, provided you are on all fours and only use your mouth." He made it seem like I should be grateful to drink piss. And what if it had been sitting there for half a day or more? Who drinks that?

"Get drinking, boy," he kicked my plug again. I noticed that my hard-on hadn't waned since we left the barn. Pre-cum was dripping all over the floor, a string of it connecting my cock to the hardwood flooring. "And lick up that pre-cum when you're done." I sniffed at the piss, aware of its soft yellow color—clearly, he hadn't drunk enough water yet today—and decided I REALLY didn't want to drink it. Dog food was one thing—hell, I had been starving—but I'd already drank a ton of water.

"I see you need some encouragement." He placed a hand on the back of my head and forced my head into the bowl. "I don't have time for you to disobey orders, Ass Licker." I sputtered as piss entered my nostrils, some of it swashing outside the bowl. "Drink." I didn't want to drown, so I started swallowing as much urine as possible. It tasted bitter, an acrid, almost burning taste, so I took in small mouthfuls to try and limit the burning. "That’s a good boy. Keep going."

After a few minutes of swallowing, I licked up what remained in the bowl, feeling humiliated that he was forcing my head into the bowl. "Now, what fell out of the bowl." He guided my head to bits of piss that landed on the floor. It seemed like he had recently cleaned the floor because I only picked up a tiny bit of dirt or dust on my tongue. "And the pre-cum," he said, shuffling me backward to get the pre-cum from the floor.

"Now," Master said, "I'm sure you have to piss, too, don't you?" Normally I have to piss like a racehorse in the morning, but I was so turned on that I hadn't noticed it too much today. "First, let’s take care of Ass Licker’s little hard-on." My cock was noticeably smaller than Master Darkcloud’s and Trainer Elmer’s. Certainly, by at least two inches, maybe three. Master’s massive hand completely enclosed it in one go. He began stroking me off from behind. I could feel his hard-on pressing against the plug in my hole.

"Come on, boy, cum for me." It took no time at all, considering how horny I was. Within seconds, I shot my load all over the water bowl and partly on the wall. Master Darkcloud continued stroking well past my ejaculation. My cock went from pleasure to pain, the continued stroking eliciting no more cum. I began to moan, the pain taking over. I didn't dare say a word.

"Damn, I should've had you go that onto the food before you ate," Master said. "Oh well, clean it up." I didn't hesitate as I did with the piss and dove right in, cleaning up all of my cum and swallowing it. "Good boy. Now, piss into your bowl."

Now that my erection was gone, the mounting urge to piss filled my bladder and cock. I shifted around on my knees to relieve myself. Master Darkcloud ensured the bowls were larger than a normal doggy bowl, so I was sure all my piss would fit inside it. I wasn't sure how to kneel to make sure I hit the bowl.

"Lift your back leg like this," Master said, lifting my left hind leg slightly. "Try to aim as best you can. You won't get it right the first time, but you'll get used to it." I tried as best as possible and got probably 85% of my urine in the bowl. Anything else that I missed, Master Darkcloud cleaned up with the towel. "Starting Monday, once you sign the contract—which you WILL do, by the way—any piss that misses the bowl, you clean up yourself." I looked down at the floor, ashamed that I'd missed the bowl.

"Now, drink your piss, Ass Licker. Gotta have that bowl clean for when I fill it with water later. Or if Elmer needs to piss."


"If you hesitate again, I'll shove your face in it again." I immediately went for the bowl and drank my piss. It had the same bitterness as Master Darkcloud', but I knew what the taste would be like this time. It still took me a few minutes, but eventually, I lapped it all up and cleaned the bowl.

"Into position, boy. Up on your knees." I obeyed. "This is the presenting position. You'll be getting used to that. Also, keep your eyes down. Slaves don't look their Masters directly in the eyes unless ordered to." I looked down at the ground. Kneeling, paws in front of my collar—attached by a chain—my knees started to hurt a little.

I had a lot to think about. And I’d be allowed to make certain basic decisions about my life. I mean, I have not agreed to submit to Master Darkcloud for life, although parts of that slave life were intriguing. However, a total, life-long commitment was another thing. There is no way I could take the leap of faith into that dark vortex of the unknown. I’m not sure how many days and nights I was there. I remember listening to music through headphones. I imagine myself being fed, petted, whipped, caressed, spanked, kissed, and beaten… and not caring which he did or in which order. Like I was property, a precious and appreciated animal, more loved than ever before and owned by a wonderful, wise, loving, and magnificent Master. I remember, sort of, feeling blessed to never be bothered with choices and decisions.

“Hello?” Master answered his phone, “Yes, Elm, did you complete your tasks?... Great. So Ass Licker’s apartment lease was closed, and his clothes, electronics, and all his crap was put in the trash bin. … Great. Oh, he's here with me, kneeling and sucking on my dick. He’s obviously to anything but my dick. He’s into his proper world.” Master was rubbing my shaved head as he talked, and I sucked. “And you ended his job and school and all that?... Fabulous…No, I don’t think anyone needs any explanation. Let people think he ran off to join a circus.… Right.”

Master was laughing. I don’t know why. Man, this dick is amazing. And I get to have it almost all the time. I get to have a long session of dick-worshipping whenever I take punishment well. It makes me crave more punishments. I mean, when Master wishes to punish me, my dick gets hard and drippy. Sometimes he lets me lick and suck his balls, toes, and even his asshole. But these rewards are seldom. I have to be especially good to deserve those treasures. I mean, I’ve only been allowed to lick his big beautiful balls once, and so as for rimming his manly, hairy asshole, well, not yet. He keeps teasing me, saying he will allow it, but then says maybe next month. Sometimes I cry in frustration because I want and need his body so fucking much. I mean, it’s my function, my life, my world. I want it so bad I break down and cry. But my great and wise Master never gives in to my self-absorbed, self-serving, self-obsessed begging. No wonder he so kindly punishes me! Rather than let me lick his ass, he holds me tight, squeezes me, petted me, calms me, and all the time, my cock is rock hard and dripping. How in the fuck did I luck out? I do not know how we met or when or where it was. I guess it is all just dumb luck.

"Good boy.” Master says to me, “Now, to give me an answer to my question, if you want to be a house slave, keep sucking my dick.” I kept sucking. “If you want to be my animal slave, keep sucking.” I didn’t stop. “If you want to be set free, stop sucking.” I didn’t stop. “If you want to be owned by me for all your life, keep sucking.” I did.

No one ever inquired about the 28-year-old investigative reporter Rhett Chamberlin. Just as well he no longer existed.

The End