Part 1 of 7
There was something wrong when I woke up. I usually snap awake and go from deep sleep to full consciousness without any intervening period. I know a lot of young guys like me like to lie there and stay in bed all day, but I'm a morning person. I'm wide awake and ready to go. There was something else different, too. I didn't have my usual morning hard-on.
This morning I was slow and lethargic. I knew I was awake, but my brain wasn't functioning properly. And as I reached down for my cock, it was flaccid, just lying there between my thighs like a warm, moist slug. Then other sensations started to come to me. For one thing, I was naked. On these cool nights, I sleep in pajamas. What the fuck had happened to me?
Where the fuck was I now? What had happened? I remembered the match we'd won, and that incredible feeling of complete exhaustion that comes over you as you finally come off the field and you know you've run as hard and as fast as you can, And then the communal steam, and the comradeship of the other guys as you all lie there stark naked, drinking the first of the after-match beers and talking about your girlfriends. So, where the fuck was I now? What happened after that? Only one way to find out, I threw aside the blanket, pushed my feet to the floor, then stood up and stretched my 26-year-old, 6'2" muscular body off the bed. Where the fuck were my clothes? And my watch. I never took that off. I always slept with it on, but now my wrist was bare. And My phone? It’s my lifeline. Where is that? Fuck me, I must have been out of its last night.
I went over to the door, intending to peer out and see what could be seen, but there was no handle. It also looked like a tough door, unlike a domestic one in a house. Oh, Christ, this was looking bad. It was some sort of cell. What the fuck had I done last night to get arrested?
I arrived here in Saudi Arabia a few days ago. I need a break from my high-stress job as an energy scientist, so I decided to vacation here for a week. I know I was relaxing at a bar, but I don’t remember leaving. Now… I’m here? I needed to piss. I looked at a bucket in the corner. The sound of my big stream of gold hitting the metal container was odd. We all get used to pissing in lavatories and urinals, don't we, and you're not used to hearing your piss splash against bare metal, which is itself acting as a sort of amplifier.
I tried banging on the door again, but it still sounded "dead,” so the only other thing to do was to go and lie down again on the bed. There was absolutely nothing to do. I had no idea how long I'd been here. But when I felt the stubble on my chin, I thought it must be about 36 hours since I'd last shaved on Saturday morning before going off to the match, so it might now be late Sunday afternoon. Surely someone would have noticed I wasn't there by now?
I was getting worried. For one thing, there were the rumblings of hunger, and for another, I started to think about what would happen if I needed to crap. Surely, I couldn't use that bucket. The deathly quiet of my "cell" was broken by a loud "snick.” I started upwards and saw that the door had half opened. Wrapping the blanket around me, I'm not ashamed of my body, but when you're in a strange place, and you don't know what the fuck's happening, you tend to try to cover up.
I peered into the corridor and could see a row of identical doors. What kind of complex was this? I walked cautiously along, trying the doors as I went, but they had no handles either, and there was nothing else to do, especially as, just as I'd left it, the door to my own "cell" had closed and was now immovable when I pushed at it. So, am I being… directed somewhere? I walked to the end of the where there was an open door, and inside was a lavatory, a big shower, and a washbasin!
It felt so good to crap, shower, and then shave off my stubble with a disposable razor. But there were no clothes, not even a towel to dry or wrap around me.
A door on the other side of the shower room now opened, and I went through. I was in a brightly lit room, very bare, with an Arab man behind a desk. "What the fuck's going on..."
"Silence until you're spoken to..."
"I will not! Now, tell me what the fuck's..."
I never got to finish the sentence as I was howling with pain and leaping up and down, trying not to let my feet touch the floor.
"Now, silence until you're spoken to! All over this facility, the floors have embedded electrical wires, and I can send those painful shocks through them, as you have just experienced. I have rubber-soled shoes, as do all the guards here. But all prisoners have bare feet. So, you see, we can control you. Either obey or suffer the consequences."
"Look, I know that you're wondering where you are and why you're here. All our prisoners want to know that. Firstly, let me reassure you that you're not in trouble with the police. You didn't drink too much, smash a place up, and get arrested. A lot of men think that too. But before you start to congratulate yourself, let me tell you that, sadly for you, your situation is far worse."
"You have been taken, kidnapped, shanghaied, stolen, whatever you wish to call it. You see, we need someone with exactly your description, age, and fitness. So, now you are ours.” This was all so absurd! My mouth gapped open in confusion. “Yes, a client of ours ordered you. Well, not you specifically, Dr. Bruce Van Courtier, Ph.D., but a Westerner similar in age, size, look, skin color, athletic shape, and so on, as you. And you fit the bill, as they say. And here you are.”
A few months ago, scientists worldwide were calling me, coming to ME. Pushing ME to work harder, faster. The entire world depended on ME to solve the international energy crisis. You can’t believe the pressure, the unreasonable expectation they had for me to come up with answers and progress. I worked seven days a week and sometimes at night. I was the most important man on the job. The stress. The tension. The unrealistic demands. As healthy as I am, I was filled with depression and anxiety. I almost had a heart attack from all the stress and bull shit. I lost my wife and kids. They left me. I hadn’t had a vacation in six years. Everyone was leaning on me, counting on me, pleading with me. I became responsible for cleaning the air, solving climate change, and feeding the whole fucking world. ME! I was the most sought-after man in the nation. I was - or was to be - the world’s problem solver. ME! And now, I had been kidnapped to fill an order placed by ‘A CLIENT’... ‘cause I fit his bill? Are you fucking mad!"
I was rolling around on the floor this time, screaming as the shock had been much more intense, almost disabling.
"This is for your own good,” the man continued calmly. "Listen well and hear me out. I know you are a scientist, but it's irrelevant. My client wants your type. So here you are, and here you'll stay. I am the Emir. You will refer to me as Master or my Maser. There are certain rich men in the world, super-wealthy men who have achieved everything they can. They run huge corporations, control thousands of workers' lives, and make a significant difference in economic life all over the planet. They play expensive sports, own houses on many continents, and fly around in their private jets. What else is there for them to do? What can they spend their wealth on? What is the ultimate pleasure for a man used to ordering affairs on such a scale?" I remained on the floor listening intently.
"I'll tell you the ultimate power and prestige a man can have is owning other men as personal property. A slave owner commands when the slave rises and sleeps, what he eats and when, what he works at, and whether he is allowed to breed. The owner can have his slave tattooed and branded, whipped or otherwise punished for disobedience, and of course, exercise the ultimate control over him: he can sell him, just as he would sell an expensive painting."
“You are so full of shit!”
"I know you are upset, but the ownership of one man by another has been legal since 2031 in the few countries that subscribe to the international Trump laws. My country, Saudi Arabia, where you are now, is the most aggressive slave-holding country in the world.”
"A lot of slaves are simply human waste from impoverished countries. They offer no challenges, and nothing is interesting or entertaining about them. Their enslavement is mostly a relief because they get properly fed, watered, have access to proper medical care, and generally live a better life than they were experiencing before. However, Westerners like you are highly prized. But muscle-toned, intelligent, and even wealthy Westerners such as you… Wow! You guys are such a valued treasure.”
He looked at me, and I saw he would let me speak. "You bastard! You're mad! They could never get away with it! I will not cooperate; I will never agree. You fucker. You have me standing here, fucking naked? I’ll sue your ass! You better release me NOW!”
“Believe me, we're not mad, and you can’t sue anyone involved in legal activities in their own country. Remember, you are in Saudi Arabia. We… ah… ‘appropriate’ hundreds of ‘missing’ men all the time, hundreds every year. Yes, most taken in other countries, but in your case, you came to us.” The guards laughed out loud. “We're one of the largest agencies in this field, and we routinely search out and 'take' young men like you. Haven't you ever noticed the statistics that occasionally appear around the number of young men mysteriously vanishing while on vacations which are never heard from again? Well, some of them might be suicides, but the majority have been taken by specialist firms like ours to be shipped to countries legally engaged in the ‘slaves for sale’ businesses. It's easy to do once you've invested in the infrastructure, as we have. A little research, a wise selection, proper tracking to a pub or club, a small pill in his drink, a few strong guards that ‘help’ you out the door to your… er… new home…"
I couldn't help interrupting, "My passport and other documents are at my hotel…”
The man was laughing. "Like many men who pass through here, you are so naïve. Oh, I guess you didn’t know, but we checked you out of your hotel, collected your luggage, and left an intentionally vague and mysterious message at the desk that you’ll be visiting Africa. No details offered.”
I was silent and light-headed, woozy, trying to put pieces together that would lead me to get home and end this nightmare. But things were not coming together.
"Let me warn you not to try to escape from here or while you're being shipped, though, as you have seen, we will punish you if you disobey. Do not think that we would hesitate to have you killed for a moment if there was the slightest risk of our operation being compromised. Of course, you'll be surrounded by our guards, and any attempt to break loose and 'make a run for it' will result in your being shot." He paused into my reflexive stare, then added, "OK, right! I know you'll have many questions, but you may not ask any of them. Now, put your hands behind your back." I didn't move. "Now, or do you want a shock that will incapacitate you, and then I'll just do it anyway?"
I put my hands behind my back.” Another guard came over, and I felt handcuffed! He returned to a cupboard holding a small tag, like a metal luggage tag on a steel chain. It looked rather sturdy. This passed around my neck, and there was a "snap." The tag was hanging down just below my throat, and I could feel its coldness against my skin.
The seated guard pressed a button on the desk to let in a neatly dressed staff guy, "Take him to the airport."
That was it. “Take him to the airport.” Little did I realize this was the end of my life as I had known it. At least I’ll get some clothes for traveling and being out in public. How embarrassing to be naked. I was wondering who would bring me clothes. Just then, they took me down the corridor, out the back doors, to the parking lot. I was guided, naked. There was a white van waiting with its back doors open. Even if the yard hadn't been enclosed and I was worried about the threat to shoot me, I probably wouldn't have tried to run at this point. It's not easy with your hands cuffed behind your back, you know, especially when the guard accompanying you looks as if he's in good shape and works out regularly.
"It's an hour to the airport. Step in and sit on the floor. Notice that the van floor has the same pattern of electrical wires embedded that we have in the building. Any noise, any commotion when we're stopped in traffic or anything, and the driver will shock you until your balls are fried." I had experienced the shocks twice, so I remained quiet.
When the van did finally stop, and the doors were opened, my hopes were dashed. We were way out on a big concrete space, one of those holding areas you see at airports, drawn up by the side of a big executive jet. No policemen or any other officials in sight! Two other guards standing there "helped" me out of the van to stand in front of them (rather roughly, I thought). One ran one of the scanners over my neck tag, looked at a little inbuilt screen on the device, and said to his companion, "Yes, this is the one. Let's load him on board the jet."
"Look, please. Enough is enough... Why don't you let me go, and I'll say noth..."
I never finished the sentence, as one of the two guards jammed a taser into my bare ass crack, which caused me to wobble-fall in a formless heap, twitching in sustained pain.
One guard said to the other, "They always have one last try, don't they?” Then laughter.
"You, slave, get on your feet NOW. My mate and I are experts at giving a man's body a good jolt and causing real hurt without permanent damage. There's nothing we like more than an unruly slave, as it allows us to practice our handy equipment. Now, UP!"
I struggled to stand up, finding it very hard to do so without the help of my hands, and stood there all covered in dirt from where I'd rolled on the concrete. "Should we clean him up, take him over to the hanger and hose him down a bit?"
"No. If his owner wants him cleaned, he can have him cleaned on the plane. I've been on board this jet before, and the owner has fitted his plane, including slave quarters with a bed and bath. Fabulous. I’d sure like to ride on it, but… not as slave cargo!” More laughter. “OK, welcome to your new life!" he told me.
They led me, still hurting, naked and cuffed, up the stairway to the plane. The plane's interior was unbelievably luxurious, unlike a commercial jet at all. It was all dark wood, deep carpets (that were so tempting to my feet that I wanted to stop and wriggle my toes down into the thick, rich pile), and big leather furniture. On we went passing through a room fitted out as an office, with PCs and stuff, then along a corridor, passing Master’s bedroom, and finally, through to a heavy-looking door which the guard unlocked.
Beyond this was a common cargo hold with a most unusual feature. In the far corner was a kind of cell, or cage, about four feet square, with stainless steel bars running from floor to ceiling. The guards led me to it, opened the door, and told me to get inside. Once in, they closed and locked the door with a heavy-looking lock, then told me to turn around.
It was a relief to get the cuffs off. I felt cold and abandoned. "Right, slave boy, make yourself comfortable! Take off's not for about an hour, and it's a long flight for you, even in this super jet."
I don't know how long I sat there, but after the flight ended, I peered out the window and saw a man in traditional Arabian dress leave the plane and be whisked away in the limousine. Two men got out of a Range Rover and came up the aircraft steps, and a few moments later, the steward led them into the cargo area.
Both men were in their late 20s or early 30s and were fit-looking. They wore matching mini shorts, cut short so that most of their thighs were exposed within two inches of their groin. Their cocks were bunched up in the crotch. I was thinking how humiliating it would be to wear that uniform, but then, look at me, I’m fucking naked!
They were chatting with the steward as they came in. "... and did his dick get all boned up during the flight? I mean, was it hard and firm to the touch?” he joked.
“Don't know, he's not cuffed or anything. As a big strong guy, I didn't want to reach my hand in and find out!" All three of them laughed, and one of the guards said, "Hands in front of you, we're going to cuff you for your road travel." I put my hands behind my back and stood there looking at him.
"Get your hands in front of you, now, boy! Don't you know that slaves obey guards?"
I just stood there, and the man casually took his Taser, pushed it through the bars, and jabbed it into my right nipple. My world exploded. It was as if someone had thrown scalding water all over me. I screamed and jerked my body about. I could not fall; the cage was too tiny. I came to rest against the bars. Only gradually did the pain subside.
"Now, boy, hands in front of you so we can cuff you. Or would you like the taser to fry your left nip?” I complied. “Just to let you know, these tasers have been adapted from cattle prods and re-tuned to the human nervous system. Lots of pain, no lasting physical harm."
I was led out of the cage, out of the plane, to the back door of the Land Rover, and told to get in. As soon as I sat down, a restraint was pulled out from under the back seat and secured shut around my ankle.
x Taken and Enslaved
Part 2 of 7 or
We sped through the bleak landscape, mile after mile. "See that fence, boy?" One of the guards said. "Mark it well! It's not so high that you couldn't jump it easily, but don't ever try. Apart from the fact that you'd never survive walking across the desert to 'civilization,' that fence marks out the placing of the sensor cable for the slave collars. You'll get one as soon as we arrive. While wearing the collar, if you cross the limit mark, that wire will shock you to death. You’ll get only one minor warning jolt to go back, but don't try to go further. You won’t make it. Understand?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Look, boy, if you're going to get on well as a slave on the estate, you'd better start learning proper manners! All guards and Captains are addressed as 'Sir' by slaves, and your only reply to my last question should have been 'Sir, yes, sir!'. Do you understand?"
"Yes, " and then I hesitated as I don't like acknowledging that any man is superior to me. But instead of antagonizing these men and risking getting Tased, I quickly added a “Sir."
"Look, boy, I don't think you understand yet what you're in for. You're a slave. Slaves are always polite and eager to obey and acknowledge Masters, Captains, and guards. It's not 'Yes' and then very grudgingly 'Sir.' It's 'Sir, yes, sir!" with vigor and enthusiasm. You need to properly acknowledge your Master. He purchased you. He owns you. And you need to show it. Guards enforce the house rules with physical punishments, and if you want to avoid a great deal of pain, you'd better start learning now. So do you understand?"
"Sir, yes, Sir!"
"That's better, boy. Remember to answer like that, and you'll avoid a lot of beatings!"
We stopped at a compound of sorts. The guards got out, unlocked my ankle restraint, then told me to follow them. Another guard was inside the door, wearing what I now consider their tight “mini-short uniform. He reached up and pulled the "tag" still around my neck to scan it.
"OK, let’s see,” he said to himself as he glanced at a PC screen on the desk. "This is the one we've been expecting. Take him, collar him, and tattoo him. Get him clean, and then take him to the boss. He's eagerly awaiting this arrival." We went down a featureless corridor into a mostly empty room, just a table with a chair next to it. "Sit down,” I was ordered, and I went and sat in the chair next to the table. All three of us waited until the door opened, and another guy, in the same "uniform" but with a more predominately displayed bulge, carried a toolbox.
He greeted his two companions but ignored me. He opened the toolbox and took out what he referred to as a high-tech security collar. It seemed very heavy and made of black leather with several small chrome box-like protrusions on two sides. There was no buckle, but the ends had a fastening mechanism that connected the two ends securely. And it had no obvious way to remove it.
"Listen, boy,” he told me, "That's your security collar on. You've seen the fence around this place, don't ever try to cross it or even get close to it! You’re expensive stock, and we'd hate to lose you. You're lucky you've got such a considerate Master who values you.”
One of the guards took the key to my handcuffs off his belt and went to unlock me. "Now, boy, don't do anything stupid when your hands are free! That collar is our weapon. It’s funny, in a way. Each slave carries a weapon that can kill him with just a touch of a button. How kind of you. Of course, we don’t want to damage Master’s property, so the auto setting is stun. But do not let the word ‘stun’ make you think it is a simple tickle.”
“Here, let me push the….” I was on the floor, jiggling like a live fish on hot concrete. My paralysis didn’t stop. I kept floundering on the floor with my tongue protruding and saliva flowing out of my mouth as my arms and legs jerked uncontrollably. They could just leave me in this state. I would continue my electrical dance until my handler pressed the button a second time. “And press again. And there you have a live demonstration. OK, slave boy?” I was wasted, empty-headed, and dizzy. I didn’t hear him. But I didn’t need to hear an explanation. I just experienced it. FUCK!
“Okay, no time for napping. Up you go.” Two guards pulled me up. My legs were like gelatin tubes. They sat me in a chair. I shook my head to return to full awareness, but it came slowly. "Present your arm and brace yourself!" The guard just held it out for me as the “toolbox guy” wanted. I was still not in control of my body. I couldn't care what the fuck they did to me. It didn’t matter. "Now, no flinching!” he went on. "I'm going to tattoo your upper arm with your inventory number and name so that all your handlers on the estate know who they're dealing with."
I started to come to. He got a machine that looked like one of those label makers that usually printed out plastic tapes from his toolbox and fiddled with it, turning the dial on the top and pressing a green button occasionally. He pressed the flat end of the machine against the flesh right at the top of the arm and pressed a red button on the machine. I felt a great stinging sensation in my arm and pulled it away. The man was grinning at me. "There, that wasn't bad, was it? That's your stock number done. These new rapid tattooers are clever, aren't they? Five digits all at once, and no need for a specialist to come in."
I went to rub my shoulder as it was hurting and saw blood everywhere! "Hey..."
"Shut the fuck up, slave!” the toolbox guy snapped. "Haven't you learned yet that slaves only speak when allowed? And don't touch! That's only blood from the needles. It will soon dry. Just sit still while I dial in your name."
He was fiddling with his machine again and soon pressed it against my upper arm, just under my “stock” number. "Right, boy, you know what's coming. Just sit still, as we don't want it blurred it." The sharp pain hit me again as the button was pressed, and he took the machine away.
"Right, I, that wasn't so bad, was it? You're lucky your name's only three characters..."
"But I'm not I, I'm..."
The man looked at the two guards who'd brought me in, and the one who had hit me in the Range Rover came up and slapped me again across the face. I fell off the chair in surprise.
"You haven't learned, have you?” he said. "Remember, you only speak when you're answering a question. Didn't I tell you that as we were coming here?"
"Yes..."
He drew back his leg and went to kick me, just stopping so that his boot rested against my head. "And how do we answer guards? Remember? So you don't speak unless spoken to, do you, slave?"
"NO, Sir, no." I was terrified. They led me to a second room with a shower head in the ceiling. Since I was naked, I didn’t have to strip to shower.
"Hey, I, don't be shy." One of the guards called out. "Turn around, and let me make sure that cock head of yours is properly clean. " I ignored him and carried on washing as that's something you do facing away from your teammates, isn't it?
"Slave, I told you to TURN AROUND! Do it now, or else." I looked over my shoulder and saw the men getting their taser prods off their belts. I let go of my cock, and turned to face them, the water still streaming over me.
"OK, now, let's see that you're properly clean. Just push your skin’ back off your dick.” I was so humiliated again. I showed him my dick, and he smiled. They turned off the water and gave me a small towel to dry myself.
"Right, off to meet your Master!” the chief one said. "Now, remember, when you see him: he owns you! He can order anything he likes to happen to you! So be VERY respectful, wait until you're spoken to, and unquestioningly do as he tells you. Personally, I like to see a new slave writhing on the floor in pain if we must tase him or give him a disabling blast from his collar. It’s quite entertaining! But it should not be unnecessary. So, keep quiet, and do absolutely as you're told!"
They marched me off through the building and stopped outside a set of doors, and the guard knocked and waited until told to come in. The room was huge, about 40 feet square, with big windows looking out onto the lush greenery of the estate. Its only furniture was a sleek modern desk, behind which sat the Emir I'd seen whisked away in a limo when the plane landed. The guards marched me over to stand before the desk, then waited.
The Emir was doing something on his computer and never looked up. He continued working as if we weren't there and were finishing something. We all stood and waited until, after some minutes, he looked at us.
The guard spoke. "Sir, this is the new slave from Los Angeles you ordered to go into the heavy work unit."
The Emir looked at me and asked in a calm voice, "Ah, the scientist, you are adjusting well?”
"Yes..."
"Slave!” the guard snapped. "Remember your fucking manners! When your Master asks you a question, how do you respond?"
"Sir, yes, Sir!"
The Emir looked at me and remarked, "Captains and guards are 'sir.' I own you. I am your Master. You refer to me as 'Master.' Do you understand?"
"Master, yes, Master."
"Good! A quick learner. Now, when we first saw you in the bar, you were bending over, fixing your shoe. I remember that it was your backside that interested me. It was just something about how you bent down and fiddled with your shoes. Your ass was pointed directly at me. You were teasing me. Being coy. I loved that. And now I own you. Turn around and bend over. Pretend you are re-tying your shoes.”
I hesitated momentarily and saw the guard still fingering his taser, so I turned my back to the Emir, bent from the waist, then bent my knees slightly as I pretended to fix my shoelaces.
"Excellent! Just as I remember. You may stand up, slave boy, and face me again."
I did as the Emir had said and stood there. "What's the slave's name?” the Emir asked one of the guards. He took hold of my shoulder, brushed his thumb up to remove drops of dried blood from my new tattoo, and snapped.
"The slave has been named I, sire."
"Now, slave Trex, I want to inspect my purchase.” I just stood still as the Emir looked me over. "See,” he said to the guards. "On many men, such a huge cock would look out of place and almost deformed. But on a tall, muscular 26-year-old man like this, a big cock is perfect."
"Now, slave Trex, I want to see your cock head. Just push back your skin to expose your fine cock, then erect yourself as I want to see the whole of that glorious shaft reaching for the sky..."
This was too much! "Fuck you! No, I won't."
The Emir said something in rapid Arabic to the guards, and one of them went out. The rest of us stood there in silence. We waited and waited. I don't know how long it was, as without a watch, there's no accurate way of knowing, is there? But the guard finally came back wheeling a strange-looking trolley.
He stopped near the desk, and there was a little "click" as the brake was set. I looked closer and saw it was like a sawhorse frame, except that the top bar was a little wider and covered in padded black leather. There were several attachments on each leg.
"Five,” the Emir said simply to the guards.
"Right, slave, get over there and lie on the punishment horse, on your belly,” the chief guard snapped. I would have told him to fuck off, too, except that all the guards were at the ready. So, I lay on the leather top, which felt cold against my chest. It was shorter than my body, and I was told to lie so that my head hung over one end, and I could feel the other end of it just around my navel.
The guards knew what they were doing. As soon as I was on it, they'd cuffed my wrists to the attached straps on the horse's front legs, then attached each ankle to the back legs horse. Then it got weird. The operator cranked something which moved the top of the horse upward at an angle so that my ass was raised high and my head was kept downward. Another crank came on, and my knees were being spread. It’s like the top of the horse was made in two pieces, and the end at my knees moved apart, spreading my ass cheeks.
"Sir, is the punishment just to the slave's ass or the thighs as well?"
"Just the ass, as it's his first real punishment. I want it to be just enough pain to make him realize we're serious. Hitting the thighs can come later. Real punishment of that magnificent ass will be sufficient."
I lay there completely immobile and wondered what would happen. It was so humiliating anyway, as with my legs spread by the "horse" under me and my ass high in the air, I knew that my ass hole must be obscenely exposed to these men.
There was a "swish" noise, and my world exploded into pain. I tried to turn around and saw that one of the guards was standing there holding a long, thin whippy cane! I couldn't believe it, a man my age getting caned like a young troublemaker.
It wasn't just the pain, either, although that was tremendous. I began to understand that these men would use physical violence against me. Anytime, anywhere, anyhow, for any reason… or no reason. I'd already been slapped and fried. Now caned.
The Emir, my owner, came and stood by my head and ruffled his fingers through my hair. I felt sick to have another man do this to me, as it's one of those things you commonly do to your dog.
"That's stroke one, slave. As you heard, I have ordered only four for you, as this is your first offense. But I recommend you save the memory of this pain so the next time you are tempted to defy me, you will know what awaits you. Unlike some Masters, I do not order punishment simply for amusement, to enjoy seeing strong, young bodies suffer. But I do not hesitate to order it at the slightest sign of disobedience or when a slave fails in his duties in any way. So, remember it well, as if you do not curb your unruly behavior, you will experience this and other punishments many times more."
"Now, if I can give you a piece of advice,” he went on, "Do not be stoical about it and try to prevent yourself from screaming. You will find it easier to take the pain if you allow it to flush through your entire body and out your mouth. Release the pain by crying aloud as each blow strikes. There's no shame in it. We are all men here, so you are not showing weakness in front of… say… women. And we all know the punishment hurts, as it is designed to do. So let your body's natural mechanism take over, and as the cane next hits, you expel all the pent-up air in your lungs with a mighty shout to show that you acknowledge the hurt being done to you."
He nodded to the guards, and there was the dreadful swishing noise again and the explosion of sharp pain in my ass. After the Emir's lecture, I was determined not to make a sound. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that I listened to his advice. But it was hard, and a great "grunt" came out from me as I tried to stifle the natural shout that I would have done at this violation of my body.
The Emir ruffled my hair again and looked at me. He nodded again, the third "swish” and the third burst of agony for me. This time I couldn't help it. Despite all my efforts to remain silent, I gave a great shout of anguish, both at the physical hurt I was experiencing and the horror of what was happening to me in general. I lay there, gasping and trying to recover my breath. I knew that I had broken out in a sweat all over, as I could feel little rivulets of it trickling across my body, and the room had seemed to go cooler as it evaporated off my hot body.
"Only two more to go, slave boy,” the Emir almost crooned. "And the final two strokes will be the ones you will remember most. The last two strokes are always laid to cross the other welts. If you thought the pain from striking virgin flesh was bad, when the last stroke cuts across the places where you are already suffering, it is doubled and redoubled. Take this experience deep within you and learn from it that you will obey your Master."
He nodded, the cane swished through the air, and he was right! I've never experienced anything like it. The intense violent, stinging stroke caused all my nerves to go on fire, and I tried desperately to jerk my body, to move it, to do anything to try being some relief to my tortured ass, but of course, I was strapped down rigidly, and there was no relief possible. I screamed and howled as loud as anyone could. The screaming turned into crying, not whimpering, outright crying, sobbing, desperate pleading. Tears and tremors took over my body. I was horrified that the fifth stroke would be worse if that was possible. I could not stop blubbering from this pain, this humiliation, and the pain of the next stroke. “HURRY IT UP, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! I wanted to yell at him to get it over with, but I only cried.
“See? Slave Trex?” the Emir sighed with care, compassion, and understanding to… “comfort” me. “You are acknowledging your punishment. You are accepting it. Let it flow through your entire body, brain, and soul.” Again, he petted my hair. What the fuck was he waiting for? Just hit me, please, was all I could think.
I could not stop crying. His finger drifted across my shoulders and then onto my tear-coated face. And yet, no fifth stroke. I just wanted to get up, rub my ass with my hands, soothe my welts, and leave. But it was not my call. FOR FUCKING CHRIST’S SAKE! BEAT ME ONE LAST TIME. “Please?” I cried and sobbed. ”Please?”
x Taken and Enslaved
Part 3 of 7
My vision changed to a dark field with bursts of starlight. I screamed with my mouth wide open, but no sound came out. That last hit shook me to my core. My body went into a constant tremble. My Master held my face, looked into my barely opened eyes, and just noddle his approval.
“Please,” I mumbled. He just looked at me. “Please?” I spoke as my voice returned. “Please?” He said nothing, just stooped there, cradling my head.
“Please, Master…” I coughed and tried to expel the flowing snot from my nose. “Please, Master. May I show you my cock head?”
My crying turned to sniffles as I caught my breath. My ass was burning as if literally on fire. Yet, nothing from my Master.
“Please, may I display my skinned-back dick for you and then work it up into a full erection for you… So, it stands like a glorious shaft reaching for the sky?" I sobbed, totally beaten. Total owned. Just the Master’s obedient property. How could this happen to me, Dr. Bruce Van Courtier, Ph.D.? Only months ago, I figured out how to produce a nuclear fusion reaction resulting in a net energy gain. Don’t these people understand who I am?! The entire world depended on ME to solve the international energy crisis. I worked seven days a week and sometimes at night. I was the most important man on the job. The stress. The tension. The unrealistic demands. As healthy as I am, I was filled with depression and anxiety. I almost had a heart attack from all the stress and bull shit. I lost my wife and kids. They left me. Don’t these idiots know how important I am? I had lunch with the President of the United States 10 days ago! I’m responsible for cleaning the air, solving climate change, and feeding the whole fucking world. ME! I was the most sought-after man in the nation. They fucking kidnaped the world’s problem solver. ME! NOW… here I am pleading and begging this stupid asshole for permission to properly display my dick to him like he is doing me a huge favor. But I must learn - for now - to submit and obey.
“Ah… There it is. Well, if you wish?” he said proudly. “If you would like that.”
He motioned for the guards to lower the contraption and release the straps. They complied in a much-appreciated, gingerly manner. I was rife with pain and muscle soreness. Then they raised me to stand. I so wanted to quickly and gently rub my raw, welt-covered ass, but somehow, I knew it would be an insult, a sign of disrespect. Disrespect because I was now there to displace my dick and make it tower, as requested, not to please myself.
I put my ass out of my mind and reached down and cradled my cock in the palm of my hand, then used my thumb to tease back my skin. I felt myself blushing all over as I did this, standing there totally naked in front of my Master and five other men. I'd never felt so used and such a toy as I exposed myself to their leering eyes.
My moist, pink cock head lay there as it had so many times before, but never like this. My Master, the Emir, peered at it and said quietly as if he was certain he would be obeyed, "Good, slave. Although I routinely have my slaves skinned, I think I will keep yours for a month or so and reassess my desire later. Now, I wish to see you erect. Make your manhood firm and hard for me so that I can see the full perfection of your cock when it is ready for action."
I started to stroke my dick, teasing it into life. I closed my eyes to blot out the room and the sight of the other men watching me and thought about the last woman I had had in bed. “No, keep your eyes open. Think of me and what pleases me.” I did. He stepped right next to me, our sides touching. "Excellent, slave! I particularly like how you have a most pronounced flange around the head, causing such a sharp differentiation from the shaft. And even though your cock is so much above average in size, its erection is so hard and firm that it is thrusting well above the horizontal. Not all men can manage that!"
My blushes went deeper and deeper, and I felt that my face must be almost as deep scarlet as my ass must surely be. Having my erection commented on as if it was some exhibit in a show was even worse than exposing myself to these men in the first instance. What was next, I wondered?
"Before I tell you about arrangements for your life, slave, I think I would like to see more of your cock in action. Stroke it so that I may watch it produce semen."
This was too much! Jerking in front of another guy and shooting a load. I was absolutely not going to do this! Somehow, I flipped out. I just lost it. "No... Master... No. I am not going to do this. I don't jerk myself in front..."
"SILENCE, slave, unless you want a more extreme beating. I think you have forgotten that you are a slave, and I am your owner. Slaves obey their owner's every command, or the punishment will be swift and severe. However, as this is your first day as a slave, I will be lenient and allow you to reconsider your previous ill-advised position."
"Consider this, in your former life, you may not reveal your cock to others, men and women. You may have refused to do so at other times. You may have even refused to strip naked when you wanted to be clothed. But all this is now changed. It is not your skin any longer, or your cock, or your semen. It’s mine. I am your owner. I have bought you from your captors, and I own every part of you, your skin, your cock head, your cock itself, your balls. I own your body, soul, mind, attitude, thoughts, and lust. And if I wish to inspect MY cock head, and have MY cock produce semen, then I will.” He paused, "Now, slave, I will give you another chance. Produce me a sample of semen or take the consequences."
I felt my body almost slump with shame and embarrassment. God! Why do I flip out? Fuck, it’s so hard to adjust. Maybe because I know I will be released and free at some point. But for now…? I hung my head low so I did not have to have eye contact with the five men watching me. I slid my hand along my cock, slowly up and down. I enjoyed this, despite the circumstances of a command performance. My already stiff cock reacted, and I felt that weakness behind my knees that you get when you try to jerk standing up. Somehow, you always want to thrust your hips forward, putting that peculiar little sensation at the knee joints. I beat away, trying to think sexy thoughts and attempting to put the "audience" out of my mind. Jesus fucking Christ, how could porn stars do it with audiences of hundreds watching them?
But there's a point where your brain drops out, isn't there, and those older mechanisms that drive the body take control. As I continued to erotically play with myself, and my cock went harder and harder, my fingers started to slide more and more easily as pre-cum leaked out of me and got spread on my fingers and my shaft. Now I was beating hard and fast, making fantastic sensations run through me. I felt my balls contract and the hot sensation as a huge measure of cum shot along my dick and rocketed across the room to lie gleaming wetly on the floor. Involuntarily I let out a couple of deep grunts as I shot. As always, the jerking aftershocks occur naturally as soon as I shoot. There were four of them, and I was acutely aware that, to the watching men, I must seem to be enjoying this. My pelvis was thrust forward, my eyes were closed, I was covered with a light sheen of sweat, and my breathing was all ragged and deep.
"Excellent, slave. A most satisfactory specimen. High volume and extreme pressure of expulsion. You will be a fitting addition to my other slaves when I show off your masculinity and sexuality to my guests.
"In the future, slave, do not spill your seed onto my floors! My rule is that slaves catch their seed in their palms and dispose of it by licking it from there and swallowing it."
"No, Master, no... I couldn't..."
"SALVE! Have you yet learned anything? You will obey, or you will be punished. There's nothing wrong with eating human seed, as it's a perfectly natural, perfectly wholesome substance. I allowed your ejaculate to shoot across the floor on this occasion as I wished to examine the force of your expulsion of it. But in the future, if you are allowed to masturbate yourself, you will always catch your seed and dispose of it neatly by eating it.
"No, Master, no..."
"Are you defying me?"
"No, Master, no... It's just that I didn't understand. I thought you said that when I masturbated another slave..."
"I did. In general, you will never masturbate yourself. I like the slaves on my estate to be happy and to work properly with their fellows. You will live with a workgroup of fellow slaves. To ensure that you all bond together and I encourage good comradeship, and a basic part of that is the slaves are forbidden to masturbate themselves. When you require sexual relief, it is to be provided by one of your fellow slaves in your work group. Similarly, when one of your fellows needs masturbating, you, or one of his other fellow slaves, must do it. I have found that over the years, the need to beat off, as you call it, is an invaluable aid in encouraging proper and happy co-working. Slaves who jerk each other find it much easier to form a real group to tackle all the assignments you will be given here on the estate."
I could hardly believe what I was hearing! It sounded like modern management gobbledygook carried to ridiculous extremes. Sure, at “the office,” management can talk about methods of worker bonding, but having blokes actually – be required - to jerk each other off is insane.
"Master, please, Master... I don't go with other men. I have a girlfriend... I hardly ever masturbate myself now, and certainly, I don't do it to other men..."
The Emir just laughed. "Look, slave Trex, you still have not adjusted, have you? You are saying things like, 'I have a girlfriend... I do not do it to other men...'. You need to understand that all that was in your old life, your life as a free man when you had choices to make and made those choices. Since I contracted to have you taken and enslaved, all that is gone. You no longer have choices. You no longer make decisions. You no longer have a girlfriend. You will have sex with other men, as I say you will."
"I am being generous,” he went on, “You will do the most intimate things that other slaves. Since you are not allowed to masturbate yourself, you will masturbate them, and they masturbate you, as a minimum. That's the only way you can get sexual relief, and after a few days, when your cock is constantly erect, and your balls ache from the stored semen, you will have to find a fellow slave to masturbate you."
"Many of you slaves will choose to take sex further. Within your workgroup, you may decide to have any other form of sex that you like. I do not mind if you suck the other slaves to bring them to climax, or if you fuck them, or they fuck you. It makes it much easier, of course, if you all mutually enjoy the pleasures of the male body like this, as when the group is called on to perform a display for the amusement and entertainment of my guests, it's so much more 'natural' if the slaves are used to each other’s bodies than if they just do it occasionally. You are wrong to say, 'I do not go with men...' You mean, "I used to not do it with men, but I now do that which my fellow slaves want'."
"No, please, Master, no... You can't mean this..."
"Oh yes, slave. This is your life from now on. I have around a hundred slaves on this estate divided into eight men work-groups. A slave on this estate is rather like an expensive, superior animal, but an animal nevertheless. You do not have original thoughts. You do not read books or watch TV. You do not wear clothes. You decide nothing. Instead, we feed you, house you in suitable conditions for the healthy living of naked animals, and make you work on hard, physical tasks, just as a draft animal does. Think of yourself as a heavy work horse on a farm at the end of the nineteenth century: a superb physical specimen, naked, of course, as an animal, housed in a stable, well fed, and well treated provided it continued to work hard. Keep that image in your mind, and you will find your life as a slave much easier."
"Now, let me tell you what will happen to you next. You will be caged tonight as I do not like introducing you to a team until you have worked with them all day. That will give the welts on your ass time to go down. Although all your fellow slaves will have experienced caning when they arrived, none of you truly accept your new status until it is brought home to you in this very tangible way. Tomorrow morning you will get the proper slave trim, we will give you sunblock until your body is properly tanned all over and can stand the sun, and then you will spend the day working with your new crew. Tomorrow night, you will be taken back with them to the slave quarters for the night, and that's how you will spend every other day for the rest of your life." Then, added, “Guards! Take this away and cage him tonight. Ensure he is fed."
The guard woke me and told me to follow him. He ushered me to a door and went straight in without knocking. In the room, there was a hairdresser's chair and a man in a white smock who looked just like a conventional barber.
"This one's joining the heavy work squad,” the guard said. "So, he gets your hair cut short and the standard all-over hair removal." And it happened. He had a nice hairy body, but it was now gone. If that was not weird enough, the barber gestured for me to get out of the chair and lie on a table next to it. It was covered in black leather and felt cool on my skin. The barber stood over me and started running his clippers up and down my body, taking off the thatch of hair on my chest and the treasure trail across my stomach. He went very slowly around my nipples, and the cold steel of the base of the electric clippers almost made me cringe as he worked. A quick journey up into my pits, and then he approached my pubic hair.
"Please, no... Don't do that... I'm a man..."
"Shut the fuck up, slave! How dare you speak!” The guard cut in, and I saw him fingering the taser on his belt.
T guard told the barber, "He's got to be shaved after you've taken the rough off. And you, slave, don't be so fucking stupid. Losing your pubic hair got nothing to do with being a man!” The clippers buzzed, and my feet tingled as the wiry bits of my pubic hair fell all over them. The barber then ran his hands generally over my body and said to the guard, "The rest can be shaved; I can't get it with the clippers."
"Get on with it, then!” the guard snapped. "The veterinarian is waiting; he's got to be done soon." So, the barber retrieved a stainless-steel bowl containing water, a conventional shaving brush, and a set of razors. It was particularly vile when I had to lie on the table again and have my balls and the root of my cock shaved. The barber took delight in moving my cock from side to side and scraping again and again over my sensitive skin to ensure I was completely smooth. The worst part, of course, was when they shaved inside my ass crack and around my pucker, I had to lie on the cool leather on my now smooth chest and hold my ass apart so they could do it! The feeling as the barbed dabbed at my hole with the soapy brush was, though, somehow exciting, it tickled at first, but as he started to scrape away at it with the razor, I could feel my cock getting hard. Oh, shit, this couldn't be happening to me. Real men don't get excited when their holes are played with, only fags!
When it was all over, the guard went to lead me away, but as we went out, there was a full-length mirror. I gasped as I saw what was standing there. I had been a normal, moderately hairy guy with short hair. And now there was something completely different staring back at me. I became truly nude. I could see all my muscles so much more clearly defined than when I'd had my normal body hair, and my dick and balls seemed huge!
The guard then pointed at a bucket with some goo in it. He snapped, "Smother yourself with that all over. It's sunblock, and you'll be given it every day until we've got a good tan worked up all over you. Be careful not to miss any part of you, as the sun is extreme here.
I rubbed the creamy stuff all over, including my cock and balls, and down my ass crack. I hated handling myself, almost fondling myself, as the men watched me. Most importantly, this oil soothed my burning ass causing the welts to feel much better.
"Don't forget your head,” the guard said. "You're completely white there at the moment." I did as I was told, and my nude body, now shining with the oil, we again went off down one of the seemingly endless corridors.
When we stopped again, the guard knocked, as the sign on the door clearly said, "Veterinarian, Knock Before Entering." We waited for an instant and then were told to enter. Inside was a guy not much older than me, wearing a kind of green smock, the sort doctors sometimes wear on TV shows.
The man came over, read the number tattooed on my shoulder, went to a screen, and keyed it in. He read the screen briefly, then said, "So, slave Trex, did you have unprotected sex after you saw your doctor on 14 July?"
"No, sir, no,” I said. In fact, it was true. “My girlfriend and I had had a spat, and she hadn't let me in her bed for a week, so I hadn't had sex with her.”
"Good! When you went to see your doctor about that strained muscle you had, he took a blood test as a routine. We got access to it, so we know you have no major diseases. Because of your Master's view that slaves should be allowed to have sex freely amongst themselves, we must be particularly careful that all new slaves are disease free."
"Please, sir... "
"Yes, slave, you may speak."
"Please, sir, how did you access my medical records? They're confidential..."
"Don't be stupid, slave. When a man as rich as your Master decides to commission the taking of a new slave, his agents bribe whoever it is that has all the information we need about him. We have your complete medical history, all the details of your bank statements, your academic history, everything. Now, in the chair..."
I sat in another of those chairs that looked like something in dental surgery. Place your arms on the arm rests.” I did, and the veterinarian snapped a couple of catches causing straps to close around my wrists, securing them to the chair. Then he bent down, and my ankles were secured to a bottom bar. Straps were pulled out from behind the chair, and he cinched them closed, quite tight, around my hip bones, under my arms, and above my pecs. Finally, clamps were moved snugly from the side of the headrest so that my head was immobile. I have to say, being completely naked, shaved, smooth, and tied in this or any position is completely humiliating and dehumanizing. I mean, I can’t move, resist, or even complain lest I be tasered.
"I know you're sitting comfortably! I am a veterinarian and so a qualified doctor here. I am responsible for the good health of the slaves on this estate. So, you will see me again if you are ill or injured. It's much easier to treat slaves as animals. They can be given much larger doses of stronger drugs than are approved for use on humans. So you'll usually be back hard at work very quickly."
"However, I also have another function. Like all good veterinarians, but not like most doctors, I also conduct other procedures on animals when their owner requires them. If your owner decides you should be circumcised or castrated, I will do it. And I will, of course, ‘put you down,' as they say, just as I would an animal if you were too sick or too injured to continue working. But all that is in the future. Today, I have to do another of those little veterinarian tasks, heavy work group slaves are ringed in two places, and I do that."
"Please..."
x Taken and Enslaved
Part 4 of 7
"Silence, slave! I do hope you soon learn that rule. I hate when the owner gets so exasperated with a slave constantly speaking that he orders the vocal cords to be cut. I would advise you to get out of the habit of asking unnecessary questions. I expect you would ask me where the rings will go, or not to do it. If you stop to think a moment, both these questions are irrelevant to a slave. Firstly, you'll find out where I will ring you soon enough. And what does it matter to you anyway if your owner has ordered it? And secondly, what would be the purpose of asking me not to do it? Your request is worthless, as your owner has ordered it, and he now owns and controls the piece of man-flesh sitting in front of me, not you."
"But being a nice guy, I'll tell you anyway. Heavy work group slaves get a genital band and a snout ring. The genital band is one of how you slaves are lucky to have such a caring owner. You're going to be doing heavy manual labor, and with low-hanging free-swinging balls like yours, there's a potential problem. They can get in the way! You probably haven't experienced it yet, but naked slaves sometimes get caught out if they do something without thinking, something simple, like sitting down! Their balls can slam into the chair or get trapped under their thigh, and they scream. It's much worse when working on a huge variety of unfamiliar tasks. The slaves are so concerned about their balls that they don't focus properly on what's happening. It's not a problem on normal construction sites, as the workers' balls are safely protected inside their jeans, and most very well hung also wear briefs or even jockstraps. But nude, you’ll risk damaging your balls, so you’ll be overly cautious and not work hard at your task. o you and you may not work as hard as you should."
"The solution is simple, a wide metal band around your cock and balls lifts your balls slightly and thrusts them and your cock forwards. It may not seem like a significant difference, but it is. We’ve saved a lot of balls from being smashed or cut. Your manhood will be more out of the way. Incidentally, it shows off your cock and balls better to interested visitors. You'll find that once you're used to it, you'll like it, and you won't get those pains that you'd otherwise get when your balls slap stuff you are working on in the field. And, of course, you'll get even more erections than usual, which owners love to see, and often require slaves to display continuously.” "Consequently, all you heavy work slaves are fitted with a snout ring, a simple ring through the septum in your nose. It doesn't interfere with your eating, as it doesn't overhang your top lip, and it isn't at all painful once it's fitted. But when needed, we can run a steel wire through the snout rings of all the slaves working on a project and tether the end securely. It makes the owner's guests much happier, and it doesn't much interfere with your ability to work, so no guards are needed then."
"Another purpose is that it is pleasing to the eye. The owner and his guests like to see beautiful men with firm, strong bodies working hard wearing a nose ring, meaning they are subhuman and under total control. That’s hot! It's a fine spectacle, especially for the ladies.”
“Lastly, the snout ring is just a convenient factor for the owners' use. When a slave acts up in any way, he can simply attach a leash to the slave’s nose ring and calm him down by walking him on that leash. Or he can clip his nose to the wall. So easy.”
The veterinarian moved a little lever on his control panel, and the chair tilted backward, and the base almost raised so that my knees were up in the air and my head was towards the floor. The veterinarian sat on a small, wheeled stool and scooted over to sit between my legs. His hand felt cold as he gripped my balls, and I almost winced. “Relax, boy, this isn't going to hurt you. What I need to do is to stretch your balls down so that I can gauge the size of the ring to fit. It needs to be big enough to ensure that the balls are raised properly but not so big that you're in constant discomfort. Now, try to relax as I stretch your balls. If you get extreme discomfort, you may say so. But I need to firmly pull them away from your torso to ensure I've fully extended them."
I was getting slightly sick, feeling a pit in my stomach as his relentless pressure on my balls increased, but he did seem to be gentle. Then he let go, and I just sat there, although I noticed from the cool, clammy feeling that my body had broken out in a sweat as he'd been working. As I sat there, I couldn't help reflecting on what a mad world I seemed to have landed up in: I'd been a normal guy, and now here I was, sitting naked, my pubes and body hair shaved, and waiting for a "cinch ring" to be fitted to me!
"That's it... Now, all we have to do is fit you with the ring." He went to a cabinet against the wall and opened the door. Inside I could see lots of gleaming metal bands neatly laid out on trays. The doctor reached in and selected one, and came back.
"Look, see... stainless steel, so there's no risk of getting an allergic reaction from your tender skin to it." The ring was open, so there was a gap in it, but even so, it took a long time for the veterinarian to position it and get my cock and balls through, he slopped oil over my cock and massaged it in to help, and I almost got used to having his fingers teasing and caressing my most sensitive parts as he worked away. Looking back on it, I'm surprised I didn't spring an erection. Now, when another man touches my cock it's instantaneous. But perhaps it was the thought that he was a "doctor,” and doctors don't do things like that when he examines you, do they?
When he seemed satisfied that the ring was properly located, he coated the open ends with something from a tiny tube, then came over with an instrument that looked rather like a giant pair of pliers, except that the handles were about three feet long.
"Don't worry,” he said jokingly. "These aren't the castrating shears, just the thing to close up the ring and make it nice and secure. We got you into that ring because the ends are open, but once I squeeze it closed into a perfect tool and the superglue sticks it, there will be no getting it off." I shuddered inwardly. The fact that he could joke about there being a castrating tool presumably meant that, in his world, such a thing did indeed exist! I wondered how many men had sat where I now sat, just waiting to lose their manhood.
He closed the jaws of the instrument around the ring and pulled the two handles together. I got a momentary twinge of pain as my balls felt crushed by the tightness of the ring, but it did subside quite soon. I was suddenly "aware" of my balls and cock in a way you normally aren't. Not only are they no longer "hanging,” but they feel all tight and constricted, and then, to my horror, I found myself going erect. As my cock hardened and lengthened, a deep blush arose across my shoulders and neck and up over my face. I'd never been erect in front of another man before, and I desperately hoped the doctor wouldn't notice.
But he did! He reached down and played with my genitals, moving the ring around. "Yes, that's excellent. You don't feel any rough edges, do you?"
I shook my head, too embarrassed to speak. "What you're experiencing now is a perfectly normal reaction to cinching. As I said, you'll find yourself erect more often, and those erections will be firmer and will last longer. You'll soon get used to it and to the way that the balance of your body is altered because all your tackle is shifted forwards."
He started fussing around with my head then, moving clamps from the side of the back of the chair and tightening them so my head was immobile. "This is going to be a little more unpleasant,” he told me, and so I need you held tight. "Now, TRY to relax. The human body tolerates pain much better if it isn't quaking and shivering with fear, you know."
Well, I didn't know! No one had ever inflicted pain on me before. The doctor rummaged in a drawer around behind me, out of sight, and came and stood beside me holding another instrument that looked like one of those things you can get for stoning olives, a pair of pliers with one end fashioned in the form of a spike, and the other in the form of a small circle with a hole in the middle.
"One quick squeeze of this to make a hole in your septum, but there will be lots of blood, but don't worry, there are no serious arteries in the nose, and blood spilling out always looks much more dramatic than it is. You can scream if you like. It will hurt, most slaves do, and there's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Please... Can't you give me something, a pain-killing shot...?"
"No. You don't need it. The pain is only for a brief time, and we don't like to waste money on pain killers for something inconsequential like this. And, in any case, your owner wants you to remember your ringing: every time you touch your snout ring in the future, you'll remember this morning just a little, and the memory of the pain you're about to experience will remind you that your owner has absolute power over your body."
As he finished speaking, he reached my nostrils with the instrument, and I could feel the cold steel against my flesh. There was also that peculiar sharp "metallic" smell that you sometimes get from steel. I suppose it was because it was in such intimate contact with my nostrils.
I did shriek. I felt the spike piercing my cartilage, and I'm sure I heard a dull sort of "scrunch" noise as the semi-brittle substance fractured. It hurt like hell. And blood started to spurt out from my nose. I was sobbing. I couldn't help it. But the doctor paid no attention and said calmly, "There. The worst's over. Punching the hole is the painful bit, and the rest is mere, shall I say... 'discomfort.'"
He'd put the instrument down and was peering into my nostrils intently, dabbing at the blood with a surgical wipe. The cupboard holding the rings was opened again, and he returned holding a stainless-steel ring, again open at the ends, about an inch and a half in diameter.
It tickled, rather than hurt, as he maneuvered the ring into the hole he'd punched in my septum, and then a smaller version of the squeezing device was brought over. The open ends got a glue coating, and the ring was squeezed closed.
"There, all done! Another success!" He fussed around, releasing my head clamps and the bands holding my wrists down to the chair. My hands flew up to my face at once, and I tentatively touched the cold ring hanging from my nostrils to fall across my top lip. It felt so odd to have this foreign appendage on me, and I fiddled with it, moving it around. I got little shooting, tickling pains as I did so.
He finished freeing me from the restraints and told me to get up. As I stood there, I felt so humiliatingly exposed, my cock jutted out obscenely in front of me, and my body was all out of balance. The doctor opened the door and called the guard to take me away.
The guard turned me over to the Captain. "OK, Trex, there are the rules of this work gang. I'm your boss; you do it if I tell you to do something! If I ask you a question, you reply respectfully in the way you've been taught. Otherwise, you stay silent. You cannot talk to your fellows, whistle, sing, or anything else. Slaves in this gang work silently. After all, you may be doing tasks near where the Master and his guests are, and the raucous noise of slaves would disturb them. So, it's easier if you learn the 'total silence' rule from the outset."
"Is that clear so far?"
"Yes."
The Captain reached for the whip at his belt and snapped, "You weren't listening, were you? You answer respectfully. Now, that's your last chance. Was that clear so far?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Good! Remember that. Now we operate a 'buddy' system here where it's 'all for one and one for all' as the Musketeers used to say. That means you are all equally responsible for what happens and share the work and punishment. "Is that still clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Provided you work hard and obey the rules, you'll be all right,” he went on. "You work from sunrise to noon, then you're allowed three hours rest in the shade, then work again from three until sunset. That's 14 hours of work a day, but you're young, fit, and strong, so that should not be a problem. You get fed in the morning and at the noon break and may only eat the slave biscuits you are given. If you should be working in the fields or orchards, it is forbidden to take any of the crops for yourself, they are your Master's crops, and he does not choose to feed them to his slaves. You may piss whenever you want to when we are on an open and bare site like this. Indeed, you must do it without stopping work, as no break in the work is permitted. But if we are working close to the Master's palace or in an enclosed area, you will, of course, wait until you can. Crapping during the day is strictly forbidden. Make sure you empty your bowels in the morning and at night."
"And finally, I will remind you that you cannot touch your cock and balls. If you need sexual relief, one of your fellows must provide a hand, mouth, or ass. Now, is that all understood? You will not be told again, but infractions of these simple rules result in group punishment."
"Sir, yes, sir." What else could I say?
“Now, take a shovel, and get digging. Your break at noon is still two hours away, and there is much to be done."
Feeling rather foolish, naked, with my cock jutting out stiff, I picked up a shovel from the pile of tools the Captain had indicated to me and walked over to where the excavations were going on at a rapid pace. I saw that the lines of trenches had been marked out in white paint on the ground, so I joined the other naked men in digging.
The man next to me leaned over and touched my cock, I almost jumped into the air with the shock as his fingers first stroked me, and I realized by the way he was looking at me that he wanted to know if he should jerk me off! I shook my head vigorously, and he gave a little shrug and moved his hand away. But sex was something that did happen at break time, as a couple of the guys were lying full length on the ground, facing each other, and jerking away. None of the others even seemed to notice or consider it in any way unusual.
The water boy came around again, and we all gratefully drank huge cups of his water. He read my name, and I read his tattoo, which noted, “Stu.” He let go of my arm, and I thought he was finished and was going to leave for the other group of slaves he looked after, but instead, he sank to the ground and sat down with us to rest.
One of the guys reached out and grabbed the water boy's arm and pulled him towards him. The big guy was lying on his back, fully stretched out, and I saw his cock jutting vertically upwards from out of his cinch ring. He pointed at it to Stu, and the boy smiled, then went and stood astride the man. I watched in fascinated horror as Stu first crouched down, reached under himself to pull his ass cheeks apart, and slowly lowered himself onto the erect cock! He began to raise himself up and down so that the cock was thrusting in and out of his firm young ass, and the slave lying down put his hands behind his head, stretched languorously, and broke out into a big grin!
Stu continued to ride up and down on the slave's cock, and the slave joined in, arching his belly up and down to cause his cock to thrust deeper and deeper into the boy. It continued, with both making tiny moaning noises of pleasure. I supposed this didn't count as "speaking"! Then the slave's body subsided, and his mouth dropped open, and he gave a big sigh, and young Stu stopped. He sat astride the slave for a minute or two, then raised himself again, and I saw the slave's semi-flaccid cock drop out of his ass.
The slave half sat up, grabbed Stu, and pulled the boy's body down onto his. He wrapped his arms and legs around Stu, and I saw his hands rubbing up and down the boy's back and his legs raking the boy's bum and thighs. Stu seemed to like this, and he and the slave kissed passionately. It was so hot, though, and their bodies were so slicked with sweat that they stopped, and Stu just lay beside the slave, who kept one arm companionably around the boy.
I woke up with a start as a hand slapped my naked ass. All the others were standing around, rubbing their eyes, and at least half of them were, like me, erect with their cocks jutting harshly forward out of our cinch rings. We all looked as if we'd been sleeping, and my fellows were rubbing their eyes and stretching their muscles.
Stu, the young water boy, was doing the rounds, and when it was my turn, I gratefully sucked up a deep draught of the warm, bitter water. My whole body ached. It was like the day after a tough game when you know you've got to go to the gym, but you'd rather not! Despite the ache all over me, I'd have to work all long afternoon and work hard, too, if the group was to avoid punishment.
At the day’s end, we arrived back at the central complex, and the Captain ordered us to halt while he went inside. We stood there, breathing hard and sweating, and the guys all knew what was expected as they stood there in two rows of four, not moving, just waiting.
Later the Captain came out and ordered us in, the code tattooed on our shoulders was scanned as we passed through the entrance, so I suppose they kept a record of which slaves had returned in case any had tried to escape. We were in a wide corridor, and we marched in our formation onto a large grill set into the floor.
"Down!” the Captain commanded, and I had to copy what all the others were doing. I squatted down, then pulled my ass cheeks apart. This was communal crapping!
I couldn't do it! I've never crapped in front of anyone before. It's one of those private things you do yourself, right? I just couldn't let go in the middle of a group of naked guys squatting over a grille. The Captain was watching and came up and said, "Better do it, Trex. It's a long night, and if you must crap in your quarters, you won't be very popular with your mates!"
So, I tried and shut my eyes to blot out the sight of the other naked men crapping around me. But I couldn't shut out the sound of the tiny grunts and sighs from them as they let go or stop the smell that rose from the sewer under the grill from assailing my nose. Despite shyness, I did manage to crap.
They let us shower next. It was incredible to have the water cascading over my body which was now acing from its exertions and extremely sore from where the harsh sun had beaten through the sunblock. Although "cascading" was hardly the right term, there were only four shower heads for the height of us, and the water only trickled out of them. I suspected that even this meager water supply wouldn't last long, as the other guys didn't wait for one to use the shower, then a second to get under it. They all clustered together and started to soap each other frantically as they knew time was short.
I edged towards the huddle of nude men and gingerly started soaping myself, using water to splash off their bodies to avoid getting too close. But a guard patrolling along the corridor shouted at me at once.
"Slave! How dare you start to touch yourself. Slaves need to wash each other, and enjoying your own body is forbidden, even when showering!"
All the others looked at me, and one of the guys instructively reached out and beckoned to me. Then, as I got closer, he put his arm around me and pulled me into the group. I quickly felt soapy hands sliding all over me, and I realized that three of them were cleaning me, running their hands over my pecs, down my back, up and down my legs, and even into my ass crack. I went to turn away, but there were bodies and hands whichever way I turned. I wanted to tell them to stop and leave me alone, but I knew of the prohibition on speaking, so I said nothing. They didn't seem to recognize how uncomfortable all this was making me, or if they did, they didn't care as they carried on. Then, to my horror, a soapy hand grabbed my balls to hold me still and steady as his other hand roamed over my jutting dick.
I tried to take a few steps away, but he had me by the balls and slowly worked his soapy hand up and down my dick. He didn’t want me to climax, just edge me. What drove me crazy was when the hand holding my balls extended that thumb to insert itself into my asshole. He let go of my dick, maybe because he noticed I was about to climax, and we both looked at my dick, just bobbing and jerking and doing the nodding, twitching sex dance. But he didn’t allow me to climax. For that moment, I was his captive. Was it for his enjoyment or my pleasure? I don’t know.
All too soon, the water was turned off, and we spilled out from the area and stood there with the water dripping off us. They didn't give us any towels, so we began to dry in the hot arid air. The guard snapped an order, and we formed up into our two-by-four formation again and marched off. The guard stopped in front of one of several barred doors leading off the corridor, opened it with a key, and we went in. The door closed behind us, and the guys all began to speak... "Hey, Trex, I'm Craig...,” "Tony, man...,” "Sam..." The total prohibition on speech didn't apply here.
They were all grinning, smiling and slapping me on the back in welcome. Things only calmed down when the guard appeared at the door's bars and thrust in sixteen of the slave biscuits that seemed to be our only food, and we all champed hungrily on them. I'd found them bland and tasteless before, but now, after working hard all day, I was so glad to have anything to eat that I tore at them and champed away with the same enthusiasm that all my fellows did.
Looking around, I saw that we were in a very tiny space. It was utterly bare except for the bars on the door. The floor was faintly cushioned and covered in some plastic, there was a light fitting on the ceiling, and on one wall, one of the tongue-action taps I'd seen in pet shops for dogs to lap up water. As they stood there and chatted to me, the other guys lined up anyway to lick at the tap to get dirty water.
I gradually learned from the excited chatter that we were all together for the night. As I discovered, this was the nightly ritual since there was only one room. I guess it didn’t matter how cool the nights got. We have each other to cuddle against.
The light dimmed, and our cell was now only illuminated by the lights from the corridor outside coming in through the barred doors. I tried to move so that I had as much space as possible, but I could feel the warmth of my companions pressing into me, and they seemed to be completely unconcerned. I even felt the wiry brush of pubic hair and the touch of a cock, against my thigh, and I instinctively drew away, only to find myself pushing my cock into the guy on the other side of me!
The first man to speak to me, Craig, was on one side of me. As we shuffled around to try to maximize our comfort, he half-whispered, "Remember, Trex, you're forbidden to touch yourself for pleasure. That light fitting in the ceiling is also a camera, and if they see your trying to jerk off or anything, they'll send a shock through the floor that will hurt us all. So, if you want to jerk yourself, don't... But I'd be glad to do it for you…"
"Hey, Craig, I'm not a fag!"
x Taken and Enslaved
Part 5 of 7
"Look, Trex, the sooner you forget all that rubbish, the better. We all live together here, and the only bit of pleasure we get is from each other. So, stop being a silly cunt." As he said this, I felt his hand cupping my balls, and I struggled to escape him. “Let’s start this way. Show me your ass.” I hesitated. “Come on, show us all your ass. We want to look at it.”
Craig's hand tightened around my balls, and I cried, "No. Stop that. Let go!" The next moment there was uproar. I felt hands gliding all over me, and Craig said, "Let's show him how we spend our free time, shall we, guys?" One of the men, Tony, vaulted across me and straddled my chest. As I lay there helpless under his muscular body weight, I could see his gigantic cock and balls in my face, and I could feel his hot naked ass pressing into my chest. Craig's hand was now massaging my balls, and someone else was doing something to my cock. I felt a hot, moist sensation all around it, and the most incredible feeling came from my cock head. My hands, for the moment, were pinned under me. Despite the flood of sensations almost totally overpowering my brain, somewhere inside me told me what was happening, and I was getting a blow job. And as there were only men in here, it must be one of the other guys doing those things to my cock. I'd persuaded some women I'd been with to blow me occasionally, but this seemed wholly different.
Other hands stroked me all over, and a finger probed my navel, causing me to try to buck and writhe to make it go away. Another hand was in between my thighs, and I suddenly felt a warm, moist "something," a finger, I realized, probing at my ass hole!
"No, stop it...." I could not admit to myself that I loved it.
Tony scooted forwards so that his cock was right over my mouth, and as I continued to try to protest, he rubbed his cock head all over my lips. I clamped them together and twisted my head from side to side, trying to get away, but he just laughed and said, "Come on, Trex... Time for your first taste of cock. Come on, be a good boy... Open your mouth, and take it down..."
I kept my mouth tightly closed, but even so, I began to experience him, the feeling of his hot manhood against my lips and my face: he was holding his erect cock around the root now and slapping each of my cheeks with it. And, as he pressed closer to me, that special man scent that only came from the sweat glands all around the balls filled my nostrils.
I was trying to buck even harder now as one (or two?) Guys had hold of my nipples and were rolling them around between their fingers, I never knew how sensitive I was there before, and I wanted to cry out to tell them to stop as it was hurting, or was it really hurting? Was it just a pleasurable sensation, the like of which I'd never known before? But I knew that if I opened my mouth, Tony would push his cock in, and there was just no way that I would have that!
I knew I was erect, and the guy with his hand on my cock had skinned me back and was raking across my sensitive cock head with fingernails. I wanted to scream to get this stopped, too, but somehow it was turning me on, I had a massive, hard erection, and as he moved from his touching of me to start a gentle jerking, moving my skin up and down over my cock head, I almost groaned with pleasure. No one had ever done this to me before except me. Somehow, all the women I'd been with just didn't seem to want to play with my cock, and I now knew what I'd been missing all these years. The pain from my nipples subsided, but something else was going on. Oh no, they were being sucked and nibbled! I'd done this to my women, of course, and now I began to see what it did to the body and just how exciting it could be.
The combination of the jerking, sucking, caressing, and general scratching was too much for me, my balls were aching for release, and I knew that if it all didn't stop soon, I'd shoot. And I knew that if I shot, it would go everywhere. I always shoot a huge load, and after several days of abstinence, it would be a massive eruption! I'd cover all the guys in my cum. No, I couldn't let that happen, so I opened my mouth and half cried, half moaned, "No... Stop... Please... I'm going to cum... "
But as my lips parted, Tony reached down and pressed his thumb and finger into the side of my gaping mouth so that I couldn't close it, and then pushed his cock into my mouth hole!
All the guys were cheering and shouting now, and Tony pulled out and got off me. I started to flush with embarrassment as I thought of all the guys drenched when I shot. But as I looked around, I saw they were all brushing each other’s bodies, rubbing every inch of skin. It was Craig who must have climaxed me, as he seemed to have his hand covered in it, and he was moving around from guy to guy, letting them smell it and lick his fingers!
"So that was your first time, was it, Trex?” Craig asked laughingly, and when I saw how unconcerned all the other guys were about things, I relaxed a bit, and instead of being angry at how they'd just used my body, I just nodded.
"Look, Trex, it happens,” Craig went on. "When we get a new guy joining the group, which isn't often, he has to get used to it quickly, and we find that getting it over with like this is the best way. It isn't good enough to be a work slave here, as sometimes the owner wants us to put on a bit of a show for his guests. We'll get taken out of this cage after a big dinner and paraded around his dining room, then we must do a kind of orgy scene for them. You've got to take part, or else it's the same: if you don't work properly, we'd all get punished."
We both got to our feet, and I blurted out, "But I'm not a fag… I've got… Had... A girlfriend. I only go with women. I don't go with guys."
"Wise up, Trex! You didn't have a snout or a cinch ring? You didn't work naked? What you mean is that you used to have a girlfriend, and you used not to go with guys? Well, you do now. Come on. Now that we introduced you to man sex show us how much you like it. I just gave you a wonderful climax, the likes of which I bet you've never had before. You owe me a favor. Why don't you jerk me, in return, or suck me off?"
I could see what he was saying, but it's one thing to be held down and be forced-masturbated while another guy cums in your mouth and quite another to do those things willingly! So, I said, "No."
"Yes, Trex, you will!"
"No... I'm not going to."
But when there are seven guys surrounding you who want you to do something, even when you don't, there's not much you can do about it, is there? They didn't exactly force me, but they all shuffled and clustered around me, and my hands were put onto a hard, stiff cock.
"Go on, Trex, jerk me." Voices were whispering, and at the same time, a body pressed into me from the back, and hands reached around and started to tweak my nipples again. There wasn't much I could do; I could see no escape, so rather gingerly, I stroked my hand up and down Craig’s firm, warm muscle. It was all smooth and slippery, and I guessed that some of my cum must be lubricating it.
As I worked away, the hands let go of my nipples, and at once two mouths clamped over them and started to nibble and suck at me. It felt amazing! I felt my body being gently pushed forward, raising my ass. I lost track of what exactly was happening. I was not in control. At some point, a new sensation now intruded. Something was rubbing along my ass crack.
I moaned. I tried to say, "Stop.” But all that could come out was a low moan of ecstasy as the cock teased me up and down between my cheeks, and the body owning it rubbed up and down my back, we were all slicked with sweat now, and our bodies slid sensuously over each other. I heard whispering in my ear, "That's it, Trex. Do you like the feel of a cock between your ass.?” All I could do was moan a reply.
With all this going on, I'd stopped jerking the cock in my hand, but its owner didn't want me to, as his hand closed over mine to fold it tightly over his cock, and he started to rock backward and forwards as if he was fucking.
I was in a frenzy, and then I felt the hot spurt of cum as the guy I was jerking came and shot his load down onto my belly and thighs. At the same time, the guy behind me pushed my ass cheeks gently apart and pushed his cock in between them. I could feel his cock head, moist and warm, banging into the back of my balls. In a reflexive response, I clenched my ass cheeks together, not to repel the welcomed invader, but to give it, and I increased friction as it continued to thrust in and out, shallow at first.
There was another hard cock in my hand now, and it was easier to jerk this one. For one thing, my hand was covered in the cum of the previous slave, and for another, my ass hole and balls were telling me that something extremely pleasurable was going on as the cock slowly pistoning in my ass slid in and out nonstop. I moaned again, and there was a lot of reaction from the other guys around me as they all gave little gasps of pleasure and sighs of encouragement.
That piston accelerated and lengthened its strokes to plunge deeper until It exploded! I felt hands on my shoulders gently pushing me down onto my knees. And then there was another cock pressing, wiggling along my lips. He was much gentler than Tony. He didn’t force my mouth to open. Rather, he put his hands around my head and caressed it as he nudged my face to French kiss his dick. My jaw relaxed open. As he rubbed and petted my entire head, I let my head be placed fully on his dick. His cinched balls were bouncing on my chin. I heard whispering, "Come on, Trex." So gently to encourage me.
I was in some dazed "sex shock.” I'd been jerked, I'd tasted cock for the first time, a guy had fucked me, and I jerked another man. But, most of all, it was the fact that other naked men surrounded me, and we were all covered in cum. There was the incredible smell of raw, pure sex everywhere. The whole atmosphere was full of male pheromones urging my body on at some primal level to "do the right thing." My higher intellectual brain still, at some level, wanted to say "no,” but a deeper, primal part of it was saying "Yes. Yes. Yes. This is what bodies were made for. This is what men were meant to do."
I began to freely, of my own accord, tongue-wash the fat, manly dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue and teased it eagerly in every way I could to pleasure it. No, not to please it, but to please me. It's not clear to me how many men I experienced that night. It was far more than seven, so I knew the guys must be going around for "second helpings.” I sucked cocks, and they ventured up my now willing ass. Bodies slid over me. Tongues caressed mine as we kissed deeply. And I was jerked and sucked so many times that I lost count, and all I knew was that my dick was periodically begging for release and attained it several times that night. I would have climaxed more often, but a few times, I was edged and not allowed to cum, for extended periods. Eventually, we subsided into a big, unruly heap on the floor, soaked in our sweat and cum, and not caring which part of which guy was in contact with who!
I can't say I slept well, as the constant shuffling of other bodies around mine made deep sleep impossible, but I honestly didn't care. I'd never known anything like this, never had so many men so close to me. And I loved it!
The guards had us lined up in twos, then we marched off down the corridor and were halted over the "crap station" bars again. On their order, our eight-slave work crew all squatted, and I was again in the middle of eight guys straining to drop their turds and having their morning piss. They didn't let us shower in the mornings, only after a day’s work. When we stood up and marched off, our morning ration of biscuits was dished out to us, and we munched them down as we were in motion.
The Captain met us at the door of the building, and then we half jogged, half ran across the estate to the site where we'd been working the day before, and without a word, picked up our shovels and started digging again.
And that was all we did until the lunch break, except that the young water boy Stu came around several times during the morning, and each of us was allowed a brief respite from our unrelenting toil as we sucked greedily from his water bag. When we had the noon break and were allowed to retire to the shade of the trees, I felt far more at ease with my fellows than I had the previous day. I'd got used to being naked. I almost didn’t notice a couple of times during the morning when the combined effects of the cinch ring and my natural urges as a young guy caused me to have huge erections. Among the eight of us, at least one of us usually had an erection at any one time.
The afternoon work session was just as hard as it had been the day before, and my whole body was aching from muscle fatigue and the whip's lash by the time the sun started to set. I'd thought we were going to get through the entire day without much use of the whip as the Captain had just mostly encouraged us verbally in the morning, but as the day went on, and we tired, he started to "encourage" us more and more to make sure our pace of work didn't slacken. I'd never thought I could work as hard as this for such continuous periods, and I began to realize just how powerful the incentive to avoid the pain from the whip could be. Interestingly, however hard he lashed at us to drive us on, our skin didn't break, you could see the lines across our naked backs, asses, and thighs where he struck, but there was never even the slightest trace of blood. I learned later that this was because the work Captains' whips were designed to sting but not damage us, as our owner didn't want our flesh disfigured by scars as we were for "display" as well as to do work on the estate.
Was I looking forward to the night? Well, in one way, I was, and in another, I wasn't. After my initiation into sex with other guys the previous night, I was strangely apprehensive about what would happen. After my initial revulsion at feeling my cock being played with and having to suck Tony's cock, I started to enjoy it. And as the evening went on and we got hotter and hotter and our sweat-slicked our bodies, it had been so sensual to have other guys sliding over you, and as the cum flowed and we got slimier and slimier, which meant better and better! So, would it be the same tonight, or would it be disappointing?
Once the gate was locked and we were all together, we fell on each other, feeling cocks, kissing, groping, and then getting down to the serious business of sex. I now know this is because we had nothing else to do or think about. Our days were empty, devoid of conversation, music, food, or anything else. So, when we were alone, the only thing we could do to bring pleasure into our lives was to enjoy each other’s bodies. There was nothing to stop us, no inhibitions, and so we could do what men revel in, have pure, animal sex. I see now that the "male bonding" that drives men to join things like rugby clubs is just the hugely watered-down "civilized" manifestation of what we were now doing to the full, interacting with each other as men were meant to. All those evenings at the club, all those matches, all the communal baths, and the drinking sessions were, I suppose, at some level, trying to create this sublime feeling of male "togetherness" in which I was now enthusiastically joining.
After an hour or so, just like the night before, we all calmed down and shuffled ourselves into sleeping positions. Craig was next to me again, and he again pushed his hard cock into my ass, sliding it back and forth while wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close to him. After a time, he stopped and turned me around to face him. I thought he would jerk my cock again, but his hand probed down further, under my balls, and I could feel his fingernail scraping at my ass lips. I gave a little moan, and a shudder ran through me as this sensitive area experienced things it had never done before. Craig kind of "shushed..." at me and continued to probe at me. I could feel his finger trying to worm its way into me, and involuntarily clenched my sphincter to try to stop it.
"Ssshhh... Trex. Relax. Let it happen. Come on, let me in. Relax."
"No, Craig. Stop it. I don't want that." I just wanted to sleep.
"Come on, Trex. You didn't want anything last night, either, did you? Now, just relax and trust me. I know what I'm doing."
What was I to do? I willed myself to relax and felt Craig's finger slip into me. He started to push it gently in and out, and a new set of sensations flooded me. He put his free arm around my chest and pulled me close to him, holding me firmly as he continued to play with my ass hole. I felt so close, so wanted, so needed. Nothing in my life had ever been like this before.
"OK, Trex?” he whispered, and all I could do in reply was moan gently with sheer enjoyment.
He unwrapped his arm from around me, and as he continued to play with my ass with one hand, he gently fingered my dick. Not in a mechanical forced-climaxing way but in a gentle touching, worshiping, pleasuring, caring, “loving” manner. I was in some strange place I'd never been before, and I even forgot that six other blokes were sprawled around us. It was as if the entire world had contracted down to just Craig and me.
Something happened then, and I gave a whole new, loud moan, and I felt my balls contracting as a great splash of cum forced itself out. I'd never felt anything like it, and I was almost gasping with the pleasure of it.
"Trex, you've never had anyone massage your prostate while they're intimate with you?"
"No, I suppose not,” I whispered.
He wrapped his arm around me again and continued to play with my ass hole, but now it seemed much easier and even more sensual. I was giving little whimpers and moans as he went on, and he pressed his face close to my ear and whispered, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? I told you so! I've got three fingers in now, and you're almost ready. Cum makes the perfect lubricant, as you can feel. So glad you're enjoying this."
Did it hurt? Or was it just my body responding to the most extreme pleasure it had ever known in totally new ways? I cried out and continued shouting in time to his long, deep thrusts. Then his voice joined in, and I heard him roaring, "I'm cumming. Oh, Christ. Oh..."
And then it was over. "So now you're a real man, Trex. That's proper sex. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No... But towards the end..."
"You mean when I pulled your legs close to me? That's to get your hole as close to my cock as it can get, so the strokes can be as long as possible. Some guys don't like it like that..."
"No. It was fantastic..."
x Taken and Enslaved
Part 6 of 7
There was a change in our work routine the next day, as we'd finally finished digging out the trenches for the foundations of the new building, and it was time to start filling them with cement. I'd thought they'd use a cement mixer or perhaps have it delivered ready-mixed, as you would in the States. Still, I'd forgotten, I suppose, that part of the purpose of having us slaves was to enable our owner to have the pleasure of seeing naked men hard at work on tough physical tasks.
Just as we'd run up to the site as usual and were getting our shovels out, there was the sound of lashing and shouting, and a cart came into view, a cart pulled by six sweating naked slaves who were being heavily lashed by our Captain. The cart stopped, and our Captain told us to unload it. It was full of 100-pound sacks of cement, and we had to put them on our shoulders and carry them to where a neat pile was being made.
We scurried around "preparing" things, using shovels to clear a flat area of the shrubs and weeds that covered the ground. We even had the unexpected luxury of doing nothing for several minutes while waiting for the cart to return, which it eventually did, full of sand and aggregate. We had to measure precise numbers of a shovelful of sand and aggregate, add the requisite number of a shovelful of cement powder, then thoroughly mix it with water before loading it into barrows and taking it over to be tipped into the trenches we'd dug the previous days.
During the afternoon, we saw a light-weight rickshaw arriving, and the Captain called to us that our owner had come to survey progress and that on no account were we to stop work. I saw that the owner's rickshaw was pulled by the slave Kurt whom I'd met the first day, and I remembered that Stu told me that he was the owner's favorite "pony.” As proper, Kurt was naked except for the security collar around his neck, and he wasn't even cinched. As he moved, his cock and balls bounced up and down in line with his motion. I thought about how uncomfortable it must be for him. The Emir wore a traditional long white Arabian robe with a red checked turban. His face and head were covered in grey hair.
“Your Master wants to inspect you now that you have been here for two weeks. Go over to him and kneel. And remember, if he speaks to you, you use the correct mode of address. If you fail in any of this, the whole team will be punished when he has gone. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Careful, slave! Is that the proper mode? Try again... Do you understand?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Good. Now go over, kneel, and make obeisance to your owner. I felt a chill run through me, but I jogged over to stand before him. The Captain told me to kneel on the hot ground and bent forward to touch my head to the ground. It's utterly humiliating to demonstrate your complete subservience to him in front of the others.
I began to object, "Be quiet, not a word! On your feet, slave, stand with your hands behind your neck." His voice was deep and calm, and you could tell he was used to being obeyed. I scrambled to my feet and clasped my hands behind my neck.
My Master, the Emir, said, "You talk too much. Silence! Now, turn around, and rotate slowly. I want to see how your blistered ass has healed.” I shuffled my feet to do a complete turn before him. "Excellent healing. You know, when I saw you at the rugby game, I knew that you would have a pleasing body, and now that that silly white, what you Americans call a… “tan line,” has been obliterated, I can see that I was proven right." He stepped out of his rickshaw, moved closer, and ran his hands over my pecs, then to my waist, probing his fingers into my muscles quite hard. He moved behind me, and I could feel his strong hands running over my shoulders, then down to my waist again. It was as if he was inspecting some show animal. Well, that's what I was as far as he was concerned.
"Excellent, too. Much increased muscle tone. And our regime has removed that thin layer of fat that your idle Western lifestyle was starting to lay down." He reached down to take my cock in his hand, and I started backward as I still wasn't used to having my intimate parts touched, except in the context of sex at night. "Easy, boy. This cock belongs to me, remember!"
He rolled my cock around in his hands. I tried not to get an erection. I failed the moment he started to skin me back, exposing my moist cock head in the palm of his hand and stroking it with his thumb, I'm so sensitive there that I could not avoid getting completely hard, and I knew that small trickles of pre-cum would be forcing themselves out of my piss slit. Hmmm... he was musing to himself. "I allowed you to keep your skin initially. Normally all my slaves lose theirs because no part of their bodies should be hidden from their owner. But I left yours as an experiment, as there were intriguing glimpses of your piss slit even when your skin was fully forward. But… on reflection, I have decided that I prefer your cock to be continuously exposed. My veterinarian will skin you shortly."
"Are you adjusting to life here? I have seen the tapes from your holding pen, and you seem to be partaking fully of sex with your fellows."
I was so astonished to think that anyone could have been videoing our actions at night and viewing them that all I could think of saying was, "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Good! Losing your skin won't affect sex. Would you like to be cut?” It wasn’t a question but a tease.
"Sir, no, sir... I like it the way I am, I...."
"Too bad you have no opinion. You neither like nor dislike things.”
"One more thing, I know your cock is in good form, but I have not had independent verification of your ass hole.
He turned towards his rickshaw and called, "Pony, over here!"
Kurt came towards us, and I saw his huge cock swinging in front of him.
"Kneel slave,” the owner snapped at me, indicating that I should do so, "Touch your head to the ground and raise your ass high in the air."
Kurt knelt behind me, and I saw he just got big and hard. I guess the immediate idea of him fucking me was all it took. His strong hands pulled my ass cheeks apart, then I flinched as something hit my sensitive pucker. Kurt spat a big gob of saliva at my hole, and his finger was now probing me and almost massaging it in. But it was a very cursory attempt at lubing me, nothing like the prolonged, gentle massage that Craig had done.
And I heard him spit again and, looking back, saw him rubbing his big, engorged cock with his saliva. Then it was pressing against me. My sphincter still resisted him, and I was hurting. I was starting to panic, and sweat poured from all over me. He pulled away slightly, and I thought it might be over, but it was only so that he could gather a little space to thrust forward at me. His cock head entered my tight hole. I screamed from the pain, but Kurt didn't seem to care: once through my ring of muscle, he thrust forwards until I could feel his hot belly pressed against my ass. This was not like the loving sex of my slave mates. This was commanded, mission sex, and it was rough.
I was sobbing in such agony and distress from this brutal entry, but my owner shouted, "Silence, slave, else I'll order a whipping for your fellows." So, I gritted my teeth and tried to restrain my lungs from providing air for my cries.
"Well, pony, how is the slave?"
"Master, very tight, Master. Almost as if he is a virgin." Kurt almost grunted as he said this, so I knew he'd found it difficult.
"Interesting. Proceed to fuck him to completion and make it quick, as I have other things to do today."
"Master, yes, Master!"
Kurt started to fuck me, and unlike Craig's gentle slithers in and out of me, this was just hard and fast. Kurt withdrew almost the entire length of his cock, then slammed it back into me in one quick movement with no consideration at all for what it was doing for me. Was he doing this because he liked hard, rough fucking like this, or was he obeying our owner's order to get it over with quickly? I didn't know, and frankly, I didn't care, all I knew was that it was hurting like hell, and I wanted him out of me.
My body reacted automatically, and I tried to buck and wriggle to get him off me and end my torture. Still, Kurt evidently had done this before as his arms gripped me tighter and tighter, making it impossible for me to escape.
On and on it went, harder and harder, and faster and faster, and I could hear Kurt's breathing change to harsh gasps with the effort he was making, and little low grunts were coming from deep inside him. Then, suddenly, he cried, "Yesssss...,” and he slammed into my ass one last time and then remained completely buried in me up to the hilt of his cock, as he pumped his cum up into me.
Even though all men normally need to collapse in at least for a moment after climax, Kurt didn’t do that. He immediately rose after doing his commanded task. He stood with his chest heaving.
"Get up,” Master commanded. As I got to my wobbly feet, I could feel Kurt’s cum gently trickling out of my ass hole and running down the inside of my thighs.
Master called for the water boy, and Stu came running over with his water sack slung over his shoulders. "Clean the cock of my pony. I can't have him going around all day with a slime-coated dick." He knelt, then expertly licked and sucked it clean.
Later that day, after all our work was done, a guard led me into the building, along a corridor, and back into the "Veterinarians office" I'd been in on my first day. The same white-coated man was standing there, and he consulted something on his PC screen. He came over, read my name from my shoulder, and said, "Right, I, you're here for the circumcision. It's not usually a procedure for American slaves since Americans are frequently cut before they arrive here, but I so enjoy this, and it is fairly painless. Now, let’s get on with it. Sit down on that chair."
He gave me an injection into my cock, waited for a couple of minutes for it to take effect, then it was over before I even knew it. Look, I didn't want it done, as no mature man wants to lose a part of himself, but I recognized d I had no choice. He mopped at the cut ends of my skin with something that stopped the bleeding and bandaged my wound.
"Don't go fucking, or even let anyone jerk you for a week,” he told me. "You can't help getting erect, of course, especially as you're cinched, but friction on the wounds would be a bad idea. After a week, you can go at it gently. By now, I assume you fuck, don't you?"
I realized he was expecting a reply, and it was OK to speak, so I muttered, "Sir, yes, sir.
A week later, the veterinarian checked up on me and gave me a clean bill of health. “Yes, you’re good to go back to full duties. Ready for fucking your fellows and women as well.”
“Women?”
"Well, you know, the owner does breed slaves.”
What the fuck?! I thought to myself. I had no objection to fucking women, as I'd done it many times before. But I didn't like the idea of being used as a breeder. Think about it, I’d be “forced” to have sex with women, to create babies that would grow up to be my Master’s slaves. Anyway, there was nothing we could do about it if that happened. Until then, we will all go about our sucking, jerking, and fucking as usual.
A few days later, the guards had me get all cleaned up. Not only did I get an early shower, but I was locked in a sauna for an hour. Man, did I sweat! The guards said it was to ensure no ingrained dirt in me, as I would be with a lady that night. Well, I used to like fucking women, so I was looking forward to it until I learned what I had to do."
It turned out that the woman was in her late 40s forties. Wow! I’m only 26 and never fucked an “old” woman before. I didn't think I could make it. Could I get it up and keep it up? The guards were all laughing about how a young stud like me would have to perform, and they advised me to be careful. There had been a case recently where a slave had displeased one of Master’s female guests. She asked my Master to punish that slave. Master decided that since he refused to fuck women, he didn’t need his balls. So, the slave was castrated.
After cleaning up, the veterinarian said, "I’m going to give you a shot of Viagra, so you’ll get hard and stay that way. At least, then, you can mechanically go through the motions. Now, this fucking is not to produce a child. Not this time. This lady is a test for you to see how you fuck women. It’s part of your slave training. It’s also why the lady is older and not at all shapely, and… how should I say it, quite homely looking.” The veterinarian chuckled to himself.
“Here is what’s challenging. You need a contraception device since she does not want to get pregnant. But she does not like the feel of a condom. She only wants a raw, fleshy dick inside her. No rubbers. Now, I invented a little piece of plastic that looks just like a tiny mushroom with an exceptionally long stem.” He picked up one and showed me. “The long stalk goes into your piss slit almost two inches. That’s enough to hold it in, especially because the stalk has tiny ridges for friction. It shouldn’t come out. During fucking.”
When my dick was boned up and plugged, it was completely humiliating to be taken naked by a guard to a bedroom door and then pushed in. She was lying on the bed wearing some filmy nightwear. First of all, I had to go and stand by her so she could inspect my balls and feel my cock. She showed me the Tasers the guard gave her and told me she wouldn't hesitate to use them on me if I didn't perform properly. Then I had to go down on her and lick and suck her pussie. I used to like doing that to my girlfriends, but to an old, wrinkled cunt, it was disgusting. And she didn't let me stop. As I continued my required pussie munching, I had to fondle her disgusting, sagging breasts and lick her everywhere.
She expected to be pleasured for a long time, and it was a long time, I can assure you. I haven't worked so hard for ages. It was just as well that the veterinarian had given me the Viagra shot, as there's no way I could have kept an erection for all the time I had to fuck her."
The worst thing, though, was how she reacted to me. She was just like a wild animal under me, thrashing around and clawing at me to pull me down onto her and 'encourage' me. When I started, I didn't think I'd have a problem with cumming, but even when you are completely turned off by someone, enough stimulation of your cock does have the effect you'd expect. I felt my balls straining and realized I was on the edge of shooting. I was terrified. Since I’ve been enslaved, I’ve been shooting big loads, and I didn't know what would happen when all that hot cum raced up my cock, and I found the exit blocked. Would the mushroom plug shoot out with my cum? Would I get tased? Punished?
So, I had to stop and pull out of her. She was enraged with anger. She shocked me with the taser causing me to eject myself onto the floor and writhe around uncontrollably. At least that took away any immediate desire I had to climax. But then she ordered me 'back to work’ and threatened an even higher voltage shock if I dared stop again.
"The next hour was a nightmare. I didn't dare stop thrusting, so I had to do everything I could to stop myself from cumming. I varied the pace and stroke, stopped completely sometimes but only so she could see I was giving full attention to playing with her breasts, and even tried to kiss her. I say 'tried' as she wanted my mouth because the taste of lipstick and the smell of her makeup almost made me retch. But thankfully, I did manage to stop myself from shooting."
"I was almost at the end of my strength when I was rescued by a phone call, her husband or lover or something was on the line. She pushed me off her and said, “Get out.” Those are the two most beautiful words I ever heard. The guard returned me to the veterinarian, and my mushroom was removed.
In the next couple of weeks, Craig and I worked out how to manage our needs to 'top' with our desire to be together. It was simple. Most nights, we fucked one of the other guys in the group, which satisfied us, and made them happy. Then we came back together to kiss and cuddle, always falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Occasionally we'd have sex together, and then it was more difficult. I didn't want Craig, or anyone else, fucking me, but I knew he needed to do this occasionally, at least, to seem in control. That’s just his thing. But overall, it was a great time, and I don't think I've ever been happier. My world contracted down to the estate and, most of all, to the slave pen and my nightly frolics. Without books, newspapers, TV, radio, computer, cell phone, or anything else.
Everything became so routine. I suppose that a good thing, like the other slaves, I got used to it. However, something different happened about two months into my enslavement. The Captain appeared in my cell. “Follow me!” He snapped, and off I followed through the central complex.
We stopped in an area I had never been to before. In front of a big oak door, before the Captain knocked, he looked at us and said, "Your Master’s youngest son, Prince Adeem, and his school buddy have chosen you as their play toy.” What the fuck? “I don't know why. There are so many slaves better fitted for a boy’s entertainment. Your gang of eight slaves is merely slave animals. But they have chosen you, so behave! We'll punish your entire crew if they mention the slightest complaints. But even more, if you dare not obey the Master’s boy, I assure you, you will be tortured to death. Of this, there is no doubt."
Sir, yes, sir. I don’t want to die. What am I to do and not do with this…”
“It is not up to me. It is not even up to your Master because he is not here. When you are in this room,” the Captain pointed to the boy’s door, “Your life depends on whatever this boy says and his mischievous mood at the time. Even if you please him and fulfill his every desire, he may still lie and tell your Master you hit him. He is impish in that way. A bit of a little devil. His lie, which is a cute prank to him, will cause you to die a slow death. Even I cannot save you. In this room, this little boy is now your God.”
What the fuck!! A boy God?! I’m a toy? I’m a fucking plaything to a child who may be my executioner… as… as… a cute prank??
Taken and Enslaved
Part 7 of 7
The Captain knocked on the door, and after a short delay, it opened. Inside was a huge, combined bedroom, sitting room, and study. A larger than king-size bed was against one wall. Two couches faced each other and were at right angles to a big TV and entertainment center, and over on another wall was a desk with a PC and phone and shelves of books and video games.
Two young teens were sitting on one of the couches, watching TV. They were watching some porn. "Prince Adeem, here is the slave you selected. Are you still certain, my Prince?"
“Yes.” Then Adeem looked at his friend of about the same age, “Look, Rashid, it’s him. The slave we’ve been just watching on the TV! This is slave Trex, in the flesh!” The boys were not “boys,” as such, but actually teenagers with chin fuzz. Yet the Master’s kids were referred to as “boys.”
“Oh, my God! Hey, Adeem, why are we watching him on TV? Shut it off, and let the games begin in real life!” the two kids chuckled.
“My Prince, may I come back to check on you periodically? To see if you are OK?”
“If little slave man gets out of line, I’ll fry his neck and separate his handsome head from his muscled body.” And he held up, not a taser, but the sophisticated electronic controller to the security collar. The boys giggled. "Remember, my Captain, that another slave, Eric? The Black hunk? I hit the wrong button on this thing, and he sizzled on the floor, seething like a mad dog as he jiggled and rolled around. I loved watching him piss and shit all over the place! Remember how I jammed pieces of his turds into his foaming mouth?” The boys could not stop laughing. “Yeah, I think we are safe, Captain.” This was not true. They never did that. They just put the pretend fear of torture in my brain to obey. And the Captain knew that.
My head was spinning. I wanted to vomit. What they were saying!! Did I just enter a torture chamber? I needed to sit. My head was swirling and light. I… I… blacked out. “Captain, get him up, please. Give him some water. Revive him.” And he did. I came to. I was on my knees. Catching my breath, collected my thoughts, readying myself for this extreme challenge.
“We exhausted him, and we haven’t begun to play.” Adeem laughingly said to Rashid. Everything was a big joke to them.
“My Prince, please let me come by and check on...”
“Captain, if you dare even to knock on my door while we engage in playtime, I’ll have YOU executed.” That was it. The Captain couldn't even come by. I was on my own. Then, he whispered to me, “Look, slave, do whatever they tell you, even cut off your hand if they ask it of you. It is the only way you will survive.” The Captain bowed to Adeem and left, closing the heavy door with an echoing bang.
The boys returned to the sofa, and Adeem pointed to his feet. Naked, I had already set his mind to do whatever they wanted, but why did it mean when the kid pointed to his feet?
I could not take any chance of under-performing. I immediately scurried to the floor at Adeem’s feet, kneeling. Not having any instructions, I adlibbed I quickly removed the boy’s sandal and massaged his foot. Being unsure of what was expected of me - what was REQUIRED of me - I placed my face on the royal foot and began to lick it as if his life depended on it. The boy giggled, but Adeem did not pull his foot away.
“Oh, my Prince, Please allow me to please you, to worship your feet, to lick and suck your most precious and manly toes, to please you in every way. Please, I beg you, kind sir, my Prince, my all-important Lord.” I held back tears of embarrassment. I'm a Ph.D., the world's leading expert on global energy matters, and the inverter of the next generation of energy technology to replace all fossil fuels. And here I am, begging to suck the toes of a teenage brat who has the power to kill me with the push of a button! I fought back the tears. But, because of his renewed giggles, I knew he noticed me crying. He ate it up. I whimpered in humiliation as quietly as possible, trying to retain my still manliness. That was a joke.
"Slave, you are powerful, and they tell me you are a scientific genius. So you are the expert on world of energy. You might wonder why I select a smart slave instead of a grunt bull for my pleasure. Well, the grunt bull will do whatever I say by instinct. But you, as smart as you Westerners think you are, are so dumb that you do not even know simple acts of servitude. You are here to try to be intuitive. And if a smart Westerner like you cannot quickly figure it out. they will carry your body parts out in boxes."
Adeem snapped his fingers and then wiggled his toes. “Yes, yes, I see. Yes, my sweet Prince. Of course! I will,” I said to myself. I was learning. I immediately began to suck the boy’s toes, loudly slurping without being told. In some stupid, basic way, I felt a tinge of pride that I was instantly learning, being receptive, tuning in on this boy who wanted to be pleased. I removed the other sandal and began licking and sucking, joyously, the other foot.
Adeem and his friend picked up Gamepads and started playing the video game, “Slave Hunt.” As they played, Adeem causally told Rashid, “Go ahead, snap your fingers.” The buddy did, nonchalantly, as if bored. It was not even a loud snap, but that slight click of the fingers of a mere friend of the Prince was all it took for me to immediately jump in front of Rashid and pick up Rashid’s little tootsie, remove the sandal and make passionate love to that most precious part of this boy.
Without conscious thought, I said, "Oh, thank you, my wonderful, kind lord. Thank you so much for the honor of massaging and sucking your toes. I hope I am pleasing you and doing it exactly as you wish."
My mind was at war. Survival verse dignity. I reflected, “I am a 26-year-old, virile, powerful, handsome, muscular, intelligent, heterosexual man. A few months ago, I was an important staff manager at MIT. That’s the fucking Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I was the fucking design engineer on the history-breaking new fusion energy project. I still can see the headline: "Fusion ignition breakthrough hailed as one of the most impressive scientific feats of the 21st century.” That was MY fucking project! Now, I am sucking the toes of a friend of the son of the Emir, who is a know-nothing little shit! And I’m not just doing it whimsically, like an erotic fun thing, I am fucking devouring these toes because this guy – THIS CHILD - can snuff my life out, and he is not my Master. He is not my Master's son, he is a friend of my Master’s son. He is a nobody, a child, a silly, spoiled, sadistic brat who I am terrified of – scared shitless - to displease! AND I am begging him to fucking honor me with the extreme pleasure of sucking his fucking toes!!
Not Adeem the Prince, but the “just a friend,” Rashid, put down the Gamepad video controller and tapped my head to get my attention. I looked up. He had a look of displeasure on his scrolling face. He flicked his fingers in a way to single me to stop worshiping his feet. OH FUCK! What did I do wrong? Why did he reject me? Is he going to have me killed? I was scared out of my mind. I mumbled, more to myself, “Oh please, oh please, Oh God, please…”
He stood up, said nothing, removed his robe and underclothes, and stood there naked with his flaccid boy dick displayed.
“Oh, he wants me to suck it.” I thought. “Well… okay... I guess.”
Then, standing there, he did something odd. He opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out, and held it there. Knowing nothing else to do, I mimic him. I stayed kneeling but opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out. Then he forced his tongue way out, as far as it would go. So, I did the same. I push my tongue way out, also. His frown turned into a smile, a wicked smile. He was pleased.
Then, with Adeem attentively watching, the naked Rashid turned around and kneeled on the sofa seat. I was confused. Rashid then placed his hands, one on each ass cheek, and pulled his ass cheeks apart.
I was lightheaded. With my tongue out, I had to kneel in front of Rashid’s ass. Not just out, but way out. He turned his head back to face me and stared. Saying nothing. I didn't move. I didn’t even pull my tongue back in my mouth. FUCK! He wants me to lick his ass. I always refused to lick my girlfriend’s ass. And I would never lick the asses of any of my gang of eight slaves. That is a bridge too far. Yet here I was. My tongue is out, and my mouth is drooling saliva down my cheeks.
It's life or death. I leaned forward to place my face closer to the young, tan, smooth ass before me. But then Rashid placed one hand to his ear and cupped his ear as if to hear something and stared at me.
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! ... he wants me to beg. FUCK! I take a deep breath, "Please, kind sir, may I kiss your ass?” I figured kissing his ass cheeks would not be too bad. But he never broke his stare. OK, it’s all in. “Please, my Lord, may I lick and kiss your beautiful ass? May I have the tremendous honor of worshiping your most precious ass and adore it? It would be a great honor and pleasure if you’d kindly allow it.” There! I said it. I begged. I begged to lick and kiss a boy’s ass!! But… no response from Rashid. His hand still cupped his ear.
Adeem was just sitting there smiling. “But kind sir, I want to lick and suck your ass. I need to please caress your ass and lick your crack up and down. Oh, please, sir, let me work your ass to make it, and you feel so good. Please, Lord,” I glanced up at his face, but again, nothing. I broke out crying. A big strong, manly, muscled man like me began to blubber and cry aloud. No more shame. I was bawling. Hiding nothing. “Oh, My lord. For God’s sake, please let me lick, kiss, and clean out your most adored ass, your spectacular asshole. My only need in life is to please you, to work my tongue inside and lick all around.” I was crying so much I could barely get the words. “I am nothing if I am not allowing this huge favor, the huge favor of probing your asshole with my disgusting slave tongue. I am a low life, a pig, a despicable slug. I live only to spread your holy ass cheeks far apart as they will go and lick and tongue fuck your asshole as deep as I can. My tongue is your servant. Please… please… please... please… please…“
A tap on my head again. I looked up, and Rashid crouched down further, sticking his ass out more, and scooted back toward me to present it to my face. He nodded. I was so pleased! I could not stop the tears, but I licked his ass all over, then up and down his ass fine, smooth crack. He moaned. I moaned, and Adeem laughed.
I firmly and aggressively pulled his cheeks wide, planted my face deep into the valley of his ass, and forced my tongue into this shit channel. I licked and rimmed and worked my tongue all around. I was so fucking pleased. He let me rim and eat out his wonderful asshole. Fucking shit! He is being so kind to me. I am so honored. I maneuvered my long tongue everywhere inside his powerful, gracious young man royal asshole. I could not believe my good fortune.
What a great and mighty Lord. Like a kid in a candy store, I was lost in my task, all lost to time. Nothing else mattered. Then a tap on my head. He wanted me to stop. I refused. I need to worship him more.
Without being aware, Rashid’s ass was replaced with Adeem’s, one slid aside, and the other slid in front of me. I thought Rashid was moving to re-adjust his position on the sofa. Oddly, I was so into loving that asshole that I thought I was just re-inserting my tongue into Rashid’s asshole. They were about the same size, shape, and color. I moaned and worked my tongue every which way. I wasn’t crying anymore; if I was, they were tears of joy. After a long time, my tongue and jaw were starting to ache. But I knew I was serving my purpose.
And another tap, and I withdrew my tongue. But then I began to plant baby kisses all over Rashid’s gorgeous ass cheeks, though it was actually Adeem’s ass I was now kissing. FUCK!! I was in heaven. I kissed him with my mouth and gently rubbed his cheeks and back lovingly, all over with both hands.
Another tap, and the ass moved away. Now Rashid stood before me and only stared. I quizzically stared back, not knowing what was being asked of me. As I kneeled attentively in front of Rashid, Rashid opened his mouth wide but did not stick out his tongue as before. I did the same. I didn’t realize I was being trained like a dog. I kneeled, keeping my mouth wide open, no tongue deployed. Then Rashid turned his face up to the ceiling with his mouth still wide open. I followed suit. I understood what was being asked of me, so I willingly and blindly followed Rashid’s “orders.”
Adeem, as usual, let his buddy take the lead. Rashid was more dominant than Adeem, and that was fine with both. Next, Rashid held out his palm flat and left it in front of my face, signaling, “stay,” meaning stay like that. I understood and maintained his open-mouth position, angled to the ceiling.
Rashid, still naked, started playing with his dick. Neither boy got hard. Perhaps they did not reach puberty yet. He stepped closer to me and pointed his dick at my gaping mouth. The first thing I thought was that he would push it inside and make me suck it. Not bad, I sucked the dicks of the other slaves. I could deal with this teen's request. But the boy just stood there with his dick about a foot away from my mouth hole. Rashid closed his eyes and waited and waited. Rashid reinforced his “stay” gesture. And waited again… and waited, and then… his piss began to flow, but just a dribble, and it stopped.
I felt relieved until I saw that dreaded hand signal. Rashid cupped his hand over his ear again and waited, with his dick aimed at my open mouth. I freaked out. I knew I had no choice. All the instructions and warnings of extreme torture I was told upon my arrival in Prince Adeem’s room rushed back into my brain. My body began to shake. “Please.” One time, it was all I could muster. I wasn’t saying, “Please let me drink your piss.” I was saying, “Please don’t make me.”
Rashid didn’t move. He didn't move away or remove his hand from cupping his ear. All horror flooded my mind. I couldn't take it. I couldn’t, but… I didn’t want to be tortured to death. For the second time in two hours, I just let it go. I cried, sobbed, bawling screamed like a wounded elephant. In a few minutes, my outright crying turned to whimpering sobs, “Please, my Lord, may I… may I please… please…. I need …” All the while, Rashid didn’t remove his hand from his ear. “Oh god, may I please drink your golden piss?” There I said it. Half the battle was done. Or at least it started. Rashid wanted more, for me to go further, much further. Rashid should receive an award for patients. He waited.
“Please, kind sir, please, I beg you. Let me drink your warm, wonderful, tasty urine. My mouth hole is your toilet. I promise not to spill a drop. I just love your piss. I need it to survive. Oh, my wonderful, most powerful Lord, grant me this pleasure. I will serve you all my life, as you wish. I need to drink the fluid of my God.” I broke down, exhausted. But I held my mouth upward and opened it wide.
I began to choke. I was not ready for a strong flow of piss. I choked and coughed. Rashid stopped momentarily, waited for the last cough, then resumed his golden flow. This time I swallowed and gulped and consumed all Rashid had in his.
I was a 26-year-old man (formerly Bruce Van Courtier, Ph.D.) who WAS a high-tech manager. A strong, healthy, straight man with a good muscle build and a skyrocketing career. I HAD the respect of many friends, colleagues, and other scientists. Yes, my life was insanely stressful, unbearable pressure cooker. Everyone depended on me to decide everything, do everything, be everything. Don’t these children know how important I am? I WAS on track to become internationally known for my brilliant work on fusion… who is NOW graveling at the feet of naked boys, pleading to be allowed to lick and suck their toes, begging for the honor of licking their assholes. Who is NOW drinking the filthy piss of stupid, fuck-up, dumb-ass, idiot, goofball punks. I am NOW begging and pleading to be degraded, dehumanized, and debased. I am being re-made into a sick degenerate piece of low-life, fucked up piece of shit.
After emptying Rashid’s bladder, I felt woozy and sick to his stomach, but then I just received another dreaded hand signal, “Stay.” I did. Adeem then took his friend's place and pulled on his dick to stretch it out, to relax it. He, too, closed his eyes but immediately peed in his slave’s toilet mouth.
“OK, my slave, you did well.” I felt a bit of pride. I did something right. I obeyed and pleased these two … two… I didn’t remember who they were. I just remembered they held the ultimate power over his life. I could relax. I, this big strong, muscle dude… collapsed.
Meanwhile, the Emir and the Captain were in the central office, watching the video feed from Adeem’s room. The hidden cameras were unknown to the Emir’s son, Adeem. The Prince and his little buddy worked me over in humiliating ways. The Emir was thoroughly amused, so pleased to see this newer and most prized slave submit to the horrid, dehumanizing “sexual” action under the threat of death.
“I am amazed.” The Emir told his Captain, “You said Trex would comply with all Adeem’s demands, and he did on the hidden cam footage. But how? Why? What did you do? I wish the video had sound so I could hear and know how those two little devils did it.”
The Captain laughed. “We tricked Trex. Adeem, Rashid, and I plotted a plan. The plan was that before I took Trrex into your son’s room, I acted ghastly, shocked, and in great fear for his life. I told your slave that the Prince had total power over him. I acted gravely concerned as I told him the prince had tortured the last slave who visited him to his death. Then I added that even if he complied fully, the Prince might still ask YOU to execute him simply for amusement.” “My Emir, you should have seen your prize Trex shaking, pleading, and crying in fear. I told him that his only chance to survive would be if he obeyed every demand of the Prince and his buddy. Only then might the Price allow him to live.”
The Emir could not stop laughing. His eyes were seeping tears of joy as he sounded big belly laughs. “On my God! To think I would allow my most precious slave, Trex, to be injured by my child or anyone else is so… so… off the chain, as they say.” As the Emir calmed down and reflected, “You know, Trex’s submission, even under the harsh conditions he believed he was under, goes a long way to breaking him down fully. To transform him into my best slave ever in every way. I am so delighted you guys cooked up the scheme. Excellent! Wonderful! Now, fetch Adeem, and bring him here.”
The Captain did, and soon Adeem was in the office with his dad. “So, Adeem, how did Trex’s visit go last night? Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Oh… Papa, it was OK.” Adeem sounded bored and unexcited over the ordeal he put the slave through.
“What do you mean? Wasn’t it fun for you and your friend?”
“Oh, it was OK. We didn’t do much, just played video games and stuff.”
The Emir found it intriguing that his son was keeping all the nasty stuff from his dad. Of course, Adeem didn’t know he was being recorded. “Well, if it was boring, I will be sure not to have Trex in your room ever again.”
“OH, NO. Please, Papa,” Adeem spoke in a panic, “I want him to return. We had a great time. I mean, the video games and other stuff. Yes, Rashid and I want him to come back regularly.”
“OK, son, that’s fine. Maybe once a month. It would help if you didn’t spoil him with all your gentle kindness. He needs to be treated strictly, not all lovey-dovey as you and Rashid treated him last night.”
“OK, Papa, I’ll try not to be so kind to him in the future, but please, we want him to return regularly.”
“OK, no worries. I’m sure you will learn to treat him as a slave needs to be treated. No worries,” the Emir told his son, dismissing him. The Emir smiled to himself. He realized that he had, in his son, the perfect slave training. He’d be sure to send Trex to the boy’s room periodically.
The Emir held elaborate events for his friends. On occasions, when Emir would host a gala event in the grand hall of his estate, he’d be seated at the far end, in his throne-like chair, relaxing and enjoying the event. It varied, but on this occasion, Emir wore his his most elborate royal outfitr, consisting of a gold and red with a gold crown. He was dressed as a roman empioer for this party. Slave Trex would be there with him. His Master had a special position Trex would place himself in and maintain throughout the evening. Trex would be naked, of course, and lay across Master's lap, on his back, belly up. Master would have his knees together so that his slave’s body would be supported and uplifted at his ass, thrusting the slave’s erect dick upward. Trex's legs and feet would hang toward the floor on one side, and his shoulders, head, and arms hang down on the other side of Master. In this position, Trex's dick was the high point of his body. This throne chair was quite large and tall, causing both the slave’s hands and feet to limply hang down but not touch the floor.
Trex's dick was, therefore, the highest point of his slave body. What a magnificent site the pair were. As mentioned, Trex was trained to have and maintain an erection. Trex played no role in the gala. He had nothing to say, nothing to do. His only task, as difficult as it was, was to lay there motionless across his Master's lap, on his Master's imposing chair, and be his Master's decoration. Master was a beer drinker, and guests would come over to greet him, stand before him, and exchange pleasantries as he sipped his drink.
As the Emir spoke, he casually tickled his slave's towering dick. Seemingly, it was not done purposefully, but rather as if the Emir was doing it unaware or nonchalantly. It was the Emir's little game, a game at Trex's expense. It’s part of Trex’s continued training. The Emir always pushed to draw out every bit of self-control Trex had, power, dignity, and modesty. He did it lovingly. Trex was being trained in front of all the guests at every special event not to react on his own. He was not allowed to move his arms or legs or even to gasp -not to moan, jerk, or shake.
Master’s goal for Trex? Was to train him so only his dick moved, not on its own, but by the Emir’s manipulation. The Emir’s feather-light touch, mostly by a single finger, used his slave’s dick to jerk, bob, twitch, spasm, and spew its fluid. The Emir called it the dick dance of white lava.
During these festivities, guests would come up to their host and greet him and exchange pleasantries. Some guests would talk about the production of the farm part of the estate, about the climate, and sometimes, about the last soccer game. The Emir would use a finger or two to gently molest the twitching pole, dancing its erotic dance. Trex’s well-trained dick responded to all those expertly light touches.
To amuse the observers standing all around, the Emir engaged in a variation. He’d whisper a single word, “tense.” And Trex would immediately tighten every muscle in his body, causing his legs to be thrust out and held horizontally, as were his arms. His muscular body was like a straight and flat plank, except for his magnificent dick, which stood tall and bobbed and continued to seep slave sauce. When the body tenses like this, all erotic energy he heightened. The slave’s dick was bobbing more rapidly. Its dance had changed. Now the straight-up dick would bend toward the slave’s chest, pause, and jolt back to its perpendicular position and spit. Even at times when the Emir was not touching his slave, the Emir would whisper “spurt,” and Trex’s dick would bend toward his chest, jerk back to straight up and spit out slave juice in one spurt. It wasn’t a climax. It was seminal fluid that was spat out as trained.
At one point in the evening, the Emir pushed a button on the side of his chair, and the lights in the entire hall dimmed. Then another button, and a spotlight in the ceiling, lit up Trex’s erect dick. The spotlight was a very narrow beam of about 12 inches in diameter.
The Emir whispered his command, “Relax,” and Trex let his arms and legs go limp. Trex had been trained to entertain the Emir’s guests. For this gala, he had prepared his slave in intense training and trusted Trex would perform on cue. It was the first event for this particular entertainment. With fingers crossed, the Emir gave the command, “Tense.” And as before, Trex tightened every muscle in his body, causing his legs to be thrust out and held horizontally. Then, he had Trex hold this position for a full 10 minutes, causing the slave to continually stress all his muscles and tremble. Then, calmly, “Spurt.” Trex’s towering dick bent toward his head like a cocked gun, then bobbed forward to eject a one-time shot of fluid. Everyone gathered around, applauded. Then, “Relax.” And the slave’s arms and legs went limp again.
The Emir, like a kid with a new toy - and that is not an inaccurate description of Trex – repeated these commands to the delight of his guests. Sometimes the three commands would be given in quick succession. Other times each word was uttered two or three minutes apart. The performance was always followed by applause.
These spurts were not climaxes. Trex’s balls were still blue and needed to be emptied… if his Master so chose. Thi8swas quite a sight. The Emir was causally chatting with his guests while Trex lay limply on his lap. But all the while, the Emir constantly moved a single fingertip to lightly touch various parts of Trex’s body. Of course, he became an expert at what erotically taunted his slave the most and lightly touched each nipple with his fingernail, then the slave's mushroom head, his balls, his underarms, and so on. The Emir had one last surprise demonstration for his guests, and he knew that it was about to happen.
Trex’s limp body suddenly jerked from head to toe, his hip thrust up, down, and sideways. His arms and legs flayed wildly, but Trex’s limbs were NEVER raised. They remained toward the floor as they danced in spam. t was all involuntary. The slave’s mighty dick stood tall. Months ago, when Trex reached this point of overstimulation, he ejaculated in the process. The Emir was not upset because he was causing it all to happen. But in recent weeks, including tonight, the spasming lasted nearly 10 minutes, and Trex controlled himself. He did not ejaculate. The spasming was in lieu of a climax. It forstalled that climax. It made for a more entertaining show, so the build-up to insane spasming could be repeated throughout the evening.
This particular gala, Trex, lasted one hour and 43 minutes before reaching the breaking point of complete and uncontrollable spasming, holding back his pent-up climax. “Ladies and gentlemen, a new record for slave Trex, one hour and 43 minutes. This is eight minutes longer than his last record!”
The shaking, jerking, and flaying of arms and legs itself continued for 16 minutes. Trex was like a dead man being shocked. Saliva was spewing out of both sides of his mouth. That was a record also. The entire hall broke out in applause. Master had timed him, as he always did. And he was very pleased. It was a new record of control endurance.
As Trex spasmed, the Emir whispered to the unconscious slave, “Climax.” And as Trex’s body continued to flail uncontrollably, he shot huge loads of cum into the air. The guests reach over to try to catch some of the slave juice. Everyone cheered, and the emir was so pleased. Such a theatrical climax end to a wonderful evening. Everyone applauded, cheered, and whistled.
Trex remained unconscious as two other slaves carried him back to his gang of eight cell, where he slept it off. Trex had no special acknowledgment or treatment for his outstanding and much-appreciated performance. No reward. Well, except he was allowed to climax, though he was unaware he did.
If you are wondering if Dr. Bruce Van Courtier, Ph.D., I mean, slave Trex, was ever released to return to his former high-powered, fast-tract life, the answer is no.
Trex adjusted nicely to pleasing others, and the heaviness of his former life turned into a simple, stress-free existence. Going from the high-stress, high-powered, impossible job of solving the world's problems to simply doing the best he could to sucking dick and toes was amazing. He forgot his name. If you called out "Bruce," he wouldn't look up. He now has no idea that he was the most important scientist in the world or even that he recently lunched with the President of the United States. He looked forward every minute of the day to deciding nothing for himself and providing all services to all fellow slaves, guests, staff, and superiors. He would give his life for the Emir, his Master. Although Dr. Bruce was kidnapped to fill a slave order placed by one of the Emir’s super-wealthy clients, the Emir kept Trex for himself. His dick was constantly hard and dripping. No drugs or devices were needed. He could not tell you what he enjoyed most, sucking dick, getting fucked, eating asshole, sucking toes, drinking piss, or being tortured, because all these tasks pleased his very kind, loving Master equally. The End
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