426 Robbie sequel

426 Dear Sweet Robbie, the Sequel
Part 1 of 5

From the original story: Rachel and Matt were his adoptive parents. They were middle-class white people. Robbie was only an infant when they adopted him. Eight years later, they adopted another son, Jimar. He was eight. So now Robbie had a brother the same age as him. One big difference was Jimar was black. So blond, cute Robbie then had a black brother who entered “his” family when he was just a kid. Robbie was not a racist; he did not dislike anyone, regardless of color or anything else. But, after being the sole child and the center of attention for the first eight years of his life, he now had to share many things, including his parents’ attention. And, as kids can do, especially boys, he would tease Jimar, and embarrass him as he played harsh jokes on his new black brother. He even went so far as to introduce him (to his peers) as his slave brother. This constant joke of Robbie's hurt Jimar the most, and it continued for years until it wore off with Robbie when he entered his middle teen years. But Jimar never forgot. He loved his white brother, but he thought that someday, he’d get even.

Soon after Robbie turned 18, Matt approached him, “I think we need to talk about something,” Matt said with concern in his voice. “I had wondered when, or even if, the time would come for us to have this conversation. You are a smart kid, good at many things - sports, making friends, and you’re good-looking to top it all. Now, Rachel and I trust you and hope you trust us. That’s why I have decided to tell you something you might find, well … weird. But here goes. Your mother and I are into S & M. In fact, we belong to a club in Hardington and engage in Master-slave erotic activities regularly.”

“I noticed that you found our S and M magazines and a hidden box of gear, the collar and cuffs and such. We also know you were excited by them; you would climax on your bed sheets at night, playing with these items.”

“Question is, do you want to pursue this role of slave? Think about it and let me know in a day or two. If you decide ‘yes,’ there is no going back. You will become a permanent slave to us, as well as to your brother Jimar. You will address me as Master and your mother as Mistress, and Jimar as ‘Sir,’ You will no longer be our son, but our property.” Robbie didn’t need any time to think, it was an unequivocal “YES”!

The Sequel: “What, Mistress? We’re going out to a gala event? Robbie asked for clarification. “What’s a gala event?”

“No boy, it’s a gayla EVENT, like G-A-Y-L-A. It’s a highly formal affair and we’ll all need to dress to the nines. I’ll wear my new formal black lace, full-length gown, Matt, Jimar and you will all wear formal tuxedos. And, sweetie, you’ll be going too.”

Naked Robbie was there, bowing to his Mistress, Rachael who was ponding the fate of her son, that is… her new family slave.
Robbie looked up at her, “You mean I get to wear a tuxedo too? And go formal? With all of you? And everyone there will all be supper dressed up too?”

What an odd turn of events. Here he is, bare-ass naked, sitting on the floor, wearing only a black, chrome studded leather collar, and TOMORROW, he will be with his family in a classy tuxedo and having a wonderful dinner and fabulous Champagne! Well, if you can believe that! Can you believe that? Really?

Robbie’s chest was puffed out with pride and elation. He’ll be going to a high-society formal celebration in a tuxedo. He was so used to being naked. He didn’t even know he had a tuxedo. He'd be a full part of the family again. His head was reeling, his mind was lost the sensation of being respected and accepted and… and… there’d be lots of girls there too, all wearing evening gowns and big smiles. He wondered if he’d meet someone special if he’d finally have a real girlfriend. FUCK! His whole world was opening up. AND normal again!

“Of course, silly, it’s a celebration dinner with gourmet food and champagne wonderful entertainment. It’s sponsored by the Overseer’s Club of Ohio. They meet in Hardington twice a year for their annual Gayla Celebrations. It’s actually a fundraiser and Matt and I never miss it. We never took Jimal, but we decided he has earned it. And you will join us because, well, because, well… it’s time for you to fully appreciate this wonderful event. In your new wonderful life.”

“Although any club member may attend either event, one recognizes major accomplishment is the straight world, and the other, this one, features achievements in the gay world. But it has quite a mix of members and individual characters. If you behave well here, we’ll treat you to the straight later in the year.”

“Miss… Achievements?”

“The club gives recognition awards for the progress we have made as a society in both the straight world and gay world. We don’t discriminate, dear,” she told him.

On the day of the event, mom and dad, his adopted parents, to be more specific, got all dressed up. Jimal had to go over the top, and Rachael and Matt bought him a royal blue velvet tux with a pink silk shirt with ruffles down the front to hide the buttons. His hair was trimmed up in a fashionable tight Afro. He was dressed to kill. All three were gathered at the front door, where Robbie was kneeling on the floor, naked.

“Mistress? Ah… my tux?” Asked Robbie, eagerly waiting for his formal wear.

“Robbie, my sweet Robbie, don’t worry, you will be formally dressed as well. We need to stop and pick up your outfit at the store, on the way to Hardington.”

“Clothes, Miss?”

“Oh, yes, dear, go upstairs and quickly put on some school clothes. So you’ll have something to wear on the way. Don’t worry about what you look like, you’ll change into your formal outfit soon.” Then, she added, “Oh, wait,” and Rachael unfastened his leather collar and removed it. “There, we can’t have this collar conflicting with your school clothes.” Robbie felt his bare neck. For a long moment, Robbie cried softly. His collar was gone, he cried. He was, once again, normal. He could not hold back the tears of joy. He could not believe it; all was back to being a part of the family.

“Thank you ah… Miss… ah… mom?” Robbie said. Rachel and Matt exchange private winks. All was going as planned.

Robbie was relieved. He ran upstairs and dressed in a T-shirt, underwear jeans, socks, and tennis shoes, just what clean clothes were there, laid out in his room. He never considered why they were there, he had no access to clothes before, but he was too excited to question it. He ran back down the stairs. Matt opened the door, and they all made their way to the car.

As they drove over, all were chit-chatting, even Robbie, all excited to have a mom and dad and brother, again. As they approached Hardington, Robbie felt nervous, “Mom, where do we stop to get my formal wear?” Yes, he called her ‘mom,’ and no one corrected him!

“Sweetie, dear, don’t worry. I called the shop and told them to deliver your formal attire to the Grand Empress Hotel, where the Gayla is. That way you’ll be sure to have it.” Rachael and Matt, sitting in the front seat, looked at each other and smiled broadly.

Matt pulled the car up to the valet parking spot and everyone got out. All those entering were dressed in spectacular outfits, Most guys and male boys wear all styles of tuxedos, and most of the women and female teens wore beautiful floor-length gowns. The others wore leather outfits, such as black leather tuxedos with no shirt to show bare chests and many women wore leather pants or skirts, and a leather bra on top. So attendees went from formal conservative to formal kink. Almost everyone had tattoos and piercings. That’s the Overseers’ membership.

Then, there was Robbie, dressed as a clean-cut high school boy. An older woman looked at him weirdly.

“Oh, my tux is inside,” Robbie smiled. He did feel bad, he figured his tux was in the back, so he just followed his parents and walked behind them and Jimal. They approached a sign at the table where 2 shaved-headed women wore black leather tuxes and nose rings, “tickets?”

Matt produced three admission tickets. The staff then looked up at Robbie and started to blurt out,” Oh, he the special…”

Matt quickly interrupted, “Yes, he is, where does he go to get prepared?”

The ticket taker looked Robbie up and down, “He's cute. Take him inside. See the Captain, he’s in white, he’ll settle him in.”

They entered the lavish ballroom where all the tables were set up to seat, maybe 400 guests. Matt made his way to the Captain in a white tux. The two of them had an intensive whispered conversation and then Matt returned to his family, “Ok, let’s take our seats. And you too, Robbie.” Robbie was stuttering, trying to ask where his tux was but did as his dad told him and just sat down at their assigned table., between Rachael and Matt.

Before long, drinks were served, and then within 30 minutes into dinner, the Captain stood at the center of the room, a spotlight lit him nicely and all went quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses, slaves and dogs,” he spoke calmly into a cordless mic. As you know, this is a fundraiser for our Overseers Club. Tonight, we are going to have an auction. And I will need a helper. I wonder, maybe we should have a new member to help me here. Are there any new members here tonight?”

“I brought our dear sweet Robbie,” Matt blurted out loudly. “it’s his first time, and he will be joining today.”

Robbie’s eyes bugged out. He was in total shock, terrified, just hearing his name. After all, Robbie was very shy to begin with. It was his first time here. He just returned to being a regular member of the family. This was too new. And to be helping under a spotlight with hundreds of high-class strangers watching was horrifying. In his dazed-up mind, he was saying, repeatedly, “No, sorry, dad, no, I can’t do…” as he found himself being escorted by his dad over to join the Captain.

“Well, thank you Robbie for volunteering to help in the auction.” The Captain put the mic in front of Robbie’s mouth.

“Ah… um… ah…”

“Well said, my boy. Well said,” Everyone laughed. “Ok, you got the looks, who needs a hunk with a brain.” More laughter. “OK, Robbie, I’ll help you get started, I know this is your first time. So, the first item up for bid is a pair of very sexy shoes. So Robbie, ask, “Who wants to start the bidding?’”

“Ah… um… who wants to start?” Robbie mumbled into the mic the Captain held at his mouth.

“$50,” someone yelled.

“$100,” another man said.

Rachael and Matt were watching from afar. Was it odd that they were not interacting with Robbie? No. They wanted Robbie to experience the members controlling him directly without an additional order from them. They were pleased beyond their wildest expectations.

“$120,” called a young woman.

“250, I’ll bid $250,” an elderly man yelled out.

“Wow, Robbie, you are doing great. So far, you got $250 for a pair of sexy shoes.” Robbie started to smile, feeling a tiny bit at ease.

“What kind of shoes are they?” yelled out a tall guy in the back.

“Good question. Robbie, what kind of shoes are they?” The captain asked.

“Huh? What? What brand? Robbie said in his state of confusion.

“Yes, what brand?”

“What?” He was not understanding the question, ‘what brand?’ He didn’t even see the shoes.

“For example, what brand are your shoes?”

Robbie looked down at his well-worn tennis shoes and answered, “What? Oh, these? These are New Balance.”

“$300,” a redheaded man yelled out.

Robbie's former Black adopted brother, Jimar, just sat there, watching the extreme festivities with his parents. He was waiting for the day to come when he would take complete control of his new dear sweet slave boy.

“$400,” the tall guy bid again.

“What size are the shoes?” yelled a voice.

Robbie shrugged his shoulders. Never seeing the shoes they were bidding on, how would he know?

“Well, you have to tell him something, Robbie. What size are your shoes?”

“What? Ah…” He had to think. “Well, these old things are size 11. But I don’t know the ones they are…”

“Size 11,” the Captain answered.

“$425,” The redhead raised his bid.

“$425, going once, $425, going twice, $425, going three times…. SOLD! to the redhead!”

A very handsome redheaded man stepped forward and walked up to the spotlight to claim his purchase. He stood there smiling at Robbie and said to him, “I’ll take them now.”


The Captain leaned over to Robbie, and whispered, but into the mic so all could hear, “Well, Robbie, you just sold him a pair of shoes, you must give him something." Robbie had no clue what was going on. He was puzzled.

“Look, Robbie, everyone is staring at you. Let’s figure this out.” A pause… “OK, for now, give him your shoes, and we will work it out later, OK?” The audience was chucking at Robbie’s naivete. But Robbie wanted no embarrassment. He nodded, bent over, untied his old smelly tennis shoes, and handed them to the redhead. Everyone applauded.

The buyer returned to his seat. Placed the shoes up to his nose and inhaled deeply the warm, sweaty insides of the shoes, uttering, “What a fucking bonus.”

“OK, folks, the next item up for bid is a pair of socks worn by a college athlete.” The Captain glanced down at Robbie's socks, then announced, “These are white cotton gym socks. Then he turned to Robbie, “OK, please ask for an opening bid.”

“Ah… um… OK… who will bid first on socks?” He mumbled. He thought this was the weirdest action ever. But, being in the spotlight, in front of all these high-class people, he had to go along to quickly get this over with. He wanted to get back to his seat with mom and dad. He didn’t even get to finish his dinner.

Rachael and Matt were grinning with pleasure. Matt even flashed Robbie an OK sign, which pleased the boy. Now he felt better. And he was not going to embarrass his parents, not in front of all these people. He was going to do what was asked of him.

Again, “$50,” someone yelled out.

Dear Sweet Robbie, the Sequel
Part 2 of 5

“100, a guy in a leather Master’s outfit called out.


Then the Master asked loudly, “Hold one up, so we can see it.”

Robbie looked up to the Captain, “what do we do?”

“Well, we don’t have the sock here to show anyone. Go ahead and take one of your off and hold it up, that’ll do for now.”

Robbie, now, with the past encouragement of his parents, didn’t hesitate. He stooped down, removed his gym sock, and held it up high, he even slowly turned fully around, kind of getting into it. Applauds. He accepted the applause for himself as a sign that he was doing a good job assisting the Captain.



“$500,” the Master bid. He wanted those socks!

“SOLD! To the leather man!”

The leather Master was a burly man, tall and must have weighed 240 pounds, but not fat. “I’ll take that now, thanks,” Robbie handed him the sock he was holding. "And the other.” He stooped again and slipped off his other sock and surrendered it as well. “Robbie, I am very pleased with you. I’m sure your superiors must be proud of you today.” Robbie blushed. "Yes, welcome to the club, boy.” Robbie was on a new high. This big dominant man singled him out and made him feel proud.

“OK, next item is a worn pair of jeans freshly soaked with piss. Robbie, let's see you take it from here.”
Now with more confidence, Robbie was feeling like he was an integral part of the festivities, which energized him with more vigor. “Listen up, folks, we have a nice pair of jeans, nicely worn, and soaked with piss. That’s freshness, nice and smelly, who will start the bidding.”


Rachael and Matt wanted to get in the bidding, but no. This was Robbie’s big performance. He was being trained that he must obey and serve ANYONE without question. And they were so proud he was learning that now.


Then a pair of middle-aged women stood up. “We bid $600.”

The Captain was amazed at Robbie’s transformation due to people, including his parents, praising him. Then there was a moment of silence. So, Robbie came on loud and strong, “OK, guys, we have $600, let’s hear more.”

“We need a better look at the pants. Turn around and show us.”

Without hesitation, he put his hand in the air and made a slow turn. “ So, who will go $700?”

“Where’s the piss? Why are your pants not soaked with piss.” Robbie ignored the silly remark. It wasn't his pants he was auctioning off. “Where’s the piss?”

At this point, a curtain at each end of the hall drew back, large monitors came on showing a close-up of Robbie. The room was so huge, and there were hundreds of people, the screens were important for everyone to get a close-up view of the boy and his growing misery, not to mention his soon-to-be-seen pants-wetting.

The caption lean into Robbie, and whispered into the mic so all could hear, “We better give them a look and what pissed-soaked jeans look like, or they’ll get upset.” He looked up to his mom and dad, and this time it was Rachel, who Robbie saw as the power in the family, she nodded and gave a thumbs up. Still, Robbie was not sure what to do.

“Look Robbie, this is a marble floor, a little piss is not going to hurt anything, so just release a little bit, please these fucking bastards.” Everyone chuckled. “These fucking assholes don’t think you have the nerve to wet your pants. You’ll show them, go ahead, let er rip.” And Robbie squeezed his eyes and soon a wet spot darkened the fly of his jeans. Robbie started to cry with embarrassment. Applause. He let more go and the wet spot enlarged to cover the entire front of his pants.

“More. Let us see the full gallon of piss soak those jeans, Robbie,” the Master said. “Do it for me.” Robbie’s body began to shake. He closed his eyes and trembled, and then he not only wet his jeans, but he was also causing a large pool of pee on the marble floor. “Go ahead, sit in it so we know the jean is a soaked front and back.”

Robbie did, and for the first time this evening, Robbie was getting a big still dick. He felt so humiliated. Somehow, he knew he had to give all these superior people what they asked for. He sat in his piss and rolled around in the pool. He felt so embarrassed, he could not stop sobbing. He was whimpering at feeling disgusting by rolling around in his piss, soaking his jeans, T-shirt, and surely all of his underwear, but on the other hand, he fucking LOVED pleasing others, anyone, doing as told. There was so much approval and adoration and acceptance. He teared up and even cried aloud.

“$1,000.” A new bidder yelled out.

“$1,200, countered a bare-chested, piercing-cluttered punker shouted.

Brother Jimar was looking on, salivating, waiting for his time at home to take charge of this slave. He’d be a great Black Master.

“$1,300, from the other bidder.

“$1,500, came the punker.

Then silence., “SOLD! To the shirtless punk stud for $1,500!” Robbie was still on the floor, wallowing in his piss. The Captain calmed him down. “OK, boy, up you go. The gentleman who just bought your jeans is here.” The Captain helped him stand and he was still a little out of control. When he was fully standing, he did not quite know what to do. “OK, little buddy, come over here, take your jeans off. Robbie unsnapped the button and unzipped the fly and tried to push his tight, soaked jeans down his muscular thighs. But they were glued to his legs. As he continued to fight to get them off him, his bare feet slipped on the piss-soak marble floor causing him to stumble sideways toward the guests seated at the nearby dinner tables and actually fell on them. You might think that that was a disaster, but the audience loved it, they were howling with laughter. Tight jeans wet with piss, or anything, are just not coming off those legs. He struggled and tried to push them down, it was hopeless.

When Robbie landed on top of several guests, two men, and two women, in their fancy clothes and gowns, they loved it. Yes, their clothes were ruined for the night, but it was so erotic they fondled Robbie who was laying across their laps. Several of them grabbed the jeans and tried pushing them off his legs but couldn’t.

“Look,” one of the guys said, “You can’t do it that way, you have to grab the bottom cuffs and pull them off.” Robbie was sitting on several people who were bear-hugging him around the chest, so the guys pulling on the cuffs could get them off. The guys slowly pulled down his jeans and slipped them off his bare feet. Big cheers busted out. Finally, the punker got his $1,500 pair of jeans. He returned to his seat, a joyful young man.

The Captain once again helped Robbie stand up and get calm. He now stood there only in his T-shirt and white jockey underwear. There was one other addition to his “outfit,” his big, jutting-out boner. After all his work getting out of his pants, he was trying to do deep breaths and collect himself... the show must go on.
“OK, folks. That was quite a show. Hope you enjoyed it. By the way,” the Captain said as he turned to the few guests who were sat on by the piss-soaked Robbie, “the club isn't responsible for your laundry bills.” More Laughs and giggles. “Now, the next item up for bid is a white cotton T-shirt.

Robbie just stood there, all boned up and in a daze. The Captain simply looked at the tag on the back of Robbie’s Tee and announced, “Ok, this is size large, and the brand is Hanes. It says, ‘heavy-duty.’ So, who will start? And by the way, it is soaked in prime urine, for those exquisite smells and tastes.” More hoots and cheers.

“$1,000.” Then silence.

“Do I hear any more bids?” Silence. “SOLD to our Asian friend in the purple tux.” Rachael and Matt applauded louder than anyone. The man came up and the Captain was helping Robbie remove his T-shirt.

“Please. May I?” the buyer asked. And the Captain nodded. The handsome Japanese lad slowly lifted the bottom of the Tee, but he was taking his time. He grabbed the cotton material and slipped it higher and higher. Robbie lifted his arms, and still, the buyer didn't just pull it up and off, he moved it slowly and finally off his arms and hands.

All eyes were on the glorious slave lad. The high-ceiling chandelier lights had been dimmed some time ago. The spotlight directed solely at him was turned up brighter. Every single person in this huge, classy hall was in formal clothes of one kind or the other. Only he had been stripped to his piss-soaked, tented-up briefs. Robbie’s semi-muscular body was perfect. He was a definite athlete with fine, smooth skin that was almost hair-free. He stood there with his ever-present boner, so full of the shame of lust and degradation, and yes, fulfillment. There was nothing he could do. He was so humiliated. He was nothing. He was everything.

“Well, well, well. Ladies and gentlemen. Seems like we still have one more item. It certainly seems up… way up… ” Everyone laughed. “I mean, up for bid.” The monitors show chose-ups of his wet briefs and Robbie fidgeting from foot to foot with embarrassment.

The Captain turned to Robbie and whispered, again, as if no one else could hear, but he was whispering into the microphone. “So, Robbie? You make us all very proud. You know we want to bid on that underwear, and hopefully, they will go for a high price. After all, this is a fundraiser. Now, and this is just between you and me, Robbie, right? You can get a lot more money if we disclose whose underwear those are. I mean, if they belonged to just some jerk on the street, we might not get even $10. They would be unimportant. Who would care? Who would bid?”

“Now, if we knew the owner of these briefs was a slave whore who craved to be humiliated, degraded, abused, and publicly stripped of clothes, morals, decency, pride, worth, and dignity… that’s a different story. If the owner of these briefs surrendered all self-respect and control and sought to be used by everyone, say in this hall, then we have some very valuable underwear. Isn’t that you? You are all boned up, excited, and ready, aren’t you, Robbie?” He nodded. “Isn’t your only function in this world to suck dick, eat pussie, rim ass, slurp up snot, drink piss, and beg for more?” Robbie was feeling light-headed, and dizzy from hearing those words, but still nodded. “Now, then this brief would be worth a lot. BUT, before we start the bidding, take this mic and tell everyone here who owns these briefs.”

Robbie cried as loud as ever. He knew the Captain was right. Everyone in this room knew his inner truth. The only thing left was for him to admit it publicly, so his underwear could achieve a very high bid. He couldn’t stop crying. Everyone got up on their feet and applauded and cheered until Robbie calmed enough to begin to speak.

“These briefs are very valuable because I am such a slut, to be whored out. I love to be used even though it scares me to death. I am a sicko. I am ashamed and pleased that I am a degenerate. I am nothing without your approval, I hunger to do want ever you want, even the janitors of this facility, I’ll do want ever it takes to please them. I am frightened, I am nervous, I am unsure, I need to be manipulated and pulled far beyond what I am now, without my consent or approval. I am such a sorry piece of shit. My only value is to suck your dicks and learn to do it properly as you like. Please, I can learn. I beg to eat all the beautiful pusses here and suck out your warm juices. I need to lick and tongue your toes and armpits and be punished harshly for the slightest infraction. I need to be fucked hard, painfully so you receive the most pleasure. I need to be caged and always bound and spanked and made a public spectacle. I have no wants to be fulfilled, yet in pleasing you, I find my task in life. I am so terrified. I need to be terrified. I am so afraid you will give me what I crave." Robbie fell to his knees and cried.

He received a standing ovation. The Captain came over to him, pulled down his zipper, took out his huge dick, and pissed all over the slave boy, his head, his face, in his open mouth, and the boy responded by accepting all that urine. He did not look away or close his mouth, he fucking loved it. When the golden shower was over, “Up you go. Now start the bidding.”

Dear Sweet Robbie, the Sequel
Part 3 of 5

The Captain helped the humiliated, sobbing, soak-clad underweared Robbie up. “There, there. Now, Robbie, We have your last item up for bid, but I don’t think everyone can see it very well. Would you like to walk from table to table and model it close up to everyone? And let people check out your boner?”

Robbie just looked down at his bare piss-covered feet, whimpering like a little boy. Except he had a huge bone tenting his wet underwear. He nodded.

“Well? Are you sure? Would your parents, I mean Master Matt and Mistress Rachael need to approve? Did they not train you properly to obey on command? I thought your Mistress Rachael trained you better. Or did she fail?”

“Oh, God, my Captain, Mistress Rachael is perfect. She has trained me to comply. To obey, to serve all. She is the most wonderful Mistress I could ever have. Hardly a day goes by when she doesn’t punish me either because I did the wrong thing, or because she just wants to show me more love. I hope I will always be allowed to serve her and Matt, and anyone else.” Robbie sobbed.”

“Yes, of course, just as I thought. Now, ask me nicely and tell all of us what you need to do.”

Robbie looked up, “May I please come to your tables and model my pissy jockeys for you? Please?” The Captain gestured for him to continue. “Please feel them and examine them and see if you’re like to bid. I need you to want me…. I mean my Jockeys, I peed all over them, and I hope you like my pissed jockeys.” Still, the Captain waited. “Also please check out my cock. I am so embarrassed. It’s getting so big; I can’t control it. So please pull my underwear down and see if you like my cock. These jockeys may be more valuable because they contain, a degenerated dick like mine. Well, they almost contain my dick.” The was some chuckling.
Robbie was then allowed to continue to walk from table to table. Guests at one table pulled the front of his underwear out and hooked the waistband under his dick and balls, so he was modeling with his dick trusted out like a stiff pole. No one ever tucked his dick back in. Even when he returned to the Captain, his dick remained on display.



Some middle eastern-looking man, wearing a jeweled turban and an ornate cape stood. “$10,000.” There were no other bidders.

“SOLD! To the Prince Mounir for $10,000.” The room erupted with cheers and applause. The Price stepped forward and stood next to Robbie.

“Congratulation Price, we deeply appreciate your donation.” He was Arabic and one of our wealthier members, but he wasn’t a real Prince. It was just his club persona that everyone enjoyed.

“Of course, too bad it’s just his underwear, I’d be happy to buy him and add him to my harem.” Lots of laughter. The Prince pointed to his sandaled feet and stared at Robbie.

The Captain whispered in Robbie’s ear, and the boy immediately dropped down to his knees and kissed the Prince’s exposed toes. Then proceeded to lick those feet all over, going beyond the whispered command. The Captain gestured for him to rise. And without asking, the Prince unhooked the waistband from under Robbie’s balls and pulled the pee-soaked briefs down, and let them drop to the marble floor. Again, with some prompting, Robbie picked them up, bowed, extended both his hands, palms up, holding the briefs, and offered the prize to the buyer.

“Oh, yes, these are nice. And at such a bargain.” The Prince said as he took them. “But, oh, wait, these are really soaked and dripping.” Then the Prince looked at Robbie and said, “Slave boy,” that was the first time he was called that to his face. “Look up to the ceiling and open your mouth as wide as you can.” The boy did. The Prince held the wet mess over Robbie's mouth and twisted the material to ring out as much pee as possible. Robbie has no choice but to not resist. Too many people are watching him. He had to swallow what seemed like a half cup of his urine. “Now, slave boy, what do you say?”

“Oh, thank you, kind Prince, thank you so much for using my mouth for a toilet.” And then the boy sobbed. Throughout the event, Robbie had cried periodically, not because he was in pain, or because he was publicly humiliated, but because he was ashamed that he loved it. So, his tears were really tears of joy.

“I see our degenerate slave boy’s big dick has started to leak again.” Everyone looked to the huge TV monitors to see the closeup of Robbie’s dick bobbing and twitching.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t help it.” Of course, this was all fabulous degradation and humiliation, which Robbie was being groomed to experience on more and more extreme levels. “Let’s see,” the Prince gently rubbed the top of the tip of Robbie’s vertical dick, making tiny circles, and doing whatever he wanted to the boy's boy. He certainly paid enough for that pleasure! Plus, it was all wild entertainment. After all, Robbie was the pre-assigned entertainment for the evening, offered by his parents, Rachael and Matt, and Robbie did not disappoint!

It wasn't just the Prince who was an expert at edging, but edging was a major fetish of the club. It was an erotic art form they all learned in seminars, used at sex sessions, and immensely enjoyed. Still, the Prince was one of the best. As the Prince’s finger lightly danced over the tip of Robbie’s dick, the hanging goo-string began to lengthen, stretching toward the floor. The prince removed his finger from the boy’s dick and put it behind him, and started to lightly touched his asshole, not inserting it, but gently scratching the ass lips with one of his fingernails. Robbie began to have uncontrollable tremors and the guests applauded louder. The boy was lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying not to move, but he was controlling nothing. He was merely a puppet. Others were controlling his dick, his boner, his dripping, his sobbing, his body shaking… all of him.

“Oh, my, everyone. Come around and see how I and anyone of you, can control his slave's dick facet.” Quite a few came around for a close-up look. “Now, as I have him dripping his slave slob, please, line up and each of you place a shoe or boots, under his dick, so a few dribbles of slob can land on it.” It was amazing. Maybe a dozen or so club members did just that. “Now, line up here so our slave can lick your shoes clean.”

The Prince turned to Robbie, “And, what do you say?”

“Please, may I clean all your shoes?”

There was more clapping and cheers as Robbie dropped to his knees a second time and began to lick the first member’s red high heel shoe. He licked it all over. The next was a boot. Robbie moaned. Next was a leather street shoe, and so on. All the while Robbie’s dick remained stiff and leaking.

It was also sheer erotic torture for Robbie. Remember, this was his first visit to the Overseers Club. His first experience being submissive to so many people, both Master, and slaves. His first experience being stripped naked and publicly totally humiliated. He was so afraid of what he was becoming and felt so awesome to be part of it. AND, so glad that it was over. He would go back to his table and sit and eat his dinner with his parents and brother. He would no longer be the center of attention and could simply relax and savor a meal well deserved!

Robbie stood there, waiting to be dismissed. Then, the captain spoke up. “You are such a good slave boy. Are you ready to join your parents now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you sure you have been of total service? Are you sure you want to stop your initiation? You don’t want to join our club?”

Robbie teared up, he was so confused. He was so used up, yet his dick was still thrust upward, showing no sign of fatigue. He turned to one side. He saw two burly men dressed in full leather, carrying very large wooden planks. Robbie stared at the commotion with trepidation. His head was slowly moving from side to side.

“I mean, my dear sweet slave boy, are you sure you want to stop our entertainment? You do realize you are our entertainment. Do you want to disappoint all these people? I mean, they paid hundreds of bucks, just to see you become a member here. Do you have those thousands of dollars to refund them all?” He didn’t mean it. It is all for intimidating effect. Of course, the members knew that they go through these initiations regularly. The only one in the entire room who believed these ominous words was Robbie. That’s why these initiations were always such fun entertainment. And Robbie did not disappoint.

Robbie wanted to say ‘yes.’ But he couldn’t. He wanted to say ‘no.’ But he couldn’t. He stood there trembling, and staring at the two leather Masters who were assembling something just a couple of feet from him. Something he knew was intended for him! He sobbed. Everyone loved it!

The captain embraced the naked, boned-up boy fully and petted his head like he was comforting a little boy or a big dog. Robbie liked being held, it was comforting, but he never broke his gaze at what was happening.

He saw one plank, maybe seven feet long lifted upright and set in some heavy-duty receptacle, or hole in the marble floor. It set in was a bang. It was not going to move. Then, another blank, the same size, was set into another hole in the floor with a bang. Now, these two seven-foot high, parallel uprights banks were locked in place about six feet apart. Lastly, they took a thinner board and secured it horizontally across the two upright, about five feet off the floor. So the configuration made an odd ‘H.’ Robbie had no idea, but this goalpost structure had been used many times before, the floor brackets were all preset and the board was all precut with pre-drilled holes. So, it was an easy assembly.

“You’ve been so good, we brought you a present,” the Captain said. "Steep over here. Come on, touch it.” The captain had to pull Robbie's hand over to the nearest vertical plank. “Here, feel it. It’s for you. Would you like to try it out?”

The boy held onto the blank and rubbed it to feel how sturdy it was. “These kind Masters are going to tie you to it.” Robbie was shaking his head no. “Ok, listen to me, they are going to tie you to it, but you get to choose with what. Rope or thread?”

“Rope or thread? I’ll take the thread, please,” Robbie muttered.

“Yes, you chose the thread. Very well. And there will be no tricks. Here,” and the captain pulled out a common spool of white cotton thread from his pocket. “Here, take this.” The boy did. “Pull out a foot, and just snap it apart with your hands.” Robbie did. It broke so easily. It was a common cotton sewing thread. “Now, see how easy it is to break?”

“Yes, yes, it’s real.” Robbie felt better. In fact, he was so relaxed, his dick even went semi-soft for the first time this evening.

Rachael and Matt were watching and whispering back and forth. “You see Matt, there always choose the thread. They always make that same mistake.”

“Yes, dear,” Matt answered smiling, “If they only knew the rope was a much safer and easier choice.” They both laughed. As did the members. Everyone knew the thread was the wrong thing to pick, and they all knew why.

“Of course, it's just thread.” The captain told Robbie, “And when these Masters tie your spread-eagle to these posts, it will be with the thread, AND, only one piece. Like when they secure your wrist, they will not wrap it around and around and around many times. No, you’ll be secured with only a single thread.” Robbie now smiled. He felt even better. “So, this is OK with you, right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“OK, so, let me have your wrist,” Robbie put it out. And true to his word, the captain tied a single thread to it and left about two feet of thread hanging loose from that knot. He did the same with the other wrist. Just a single, easily snappable cotton thread. Robbie was glad to comply. Then the Captain knelt and tied other threads to each ankle. Also, with a few feet dangling loose.

“Now, I didn’t mention your neck, but watch this,” The Captain tied a trend around Robbie’s neck and said, “OK, now just give that thread a yank.” He did and the thread broke easily. “OK?” Robbie agreed and was happy to continue. He knew he wasn’t going to be hurt or even restrained. He knew no one can be seriously secured with a single piece of thread. It was some kind of a joke, so he was happy to go along with it.

“Great. Now step to the center of the frame. Place your feet wide apart close to the base of the uprights.” He did, no problem. “OK, the Masters will tie these threads to each bottom eye bracket.” Now, the blanks were six feet apart, and Robbie’s legs were stretched out, so his feet were planted five feet wide. Hence the need for the extra two feet of thread on each ankle to those posts.

Next, the Masters tied the wrists' threads to the eye rackets at the top of the uprights. Here, Robbie's hands reached all the way to the post tops. So, he was officially tied spread-eagled.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Masters, tie the neck thread to the center of the horizontal board.” And they did.

Whoever was controlling the camera image shown on the TV screens was capturing each thread being tied and Robbie’s stretched-out body. “OK, new slave boy, are you comfortable all secured to the bondage frame?”

“Well, actually, sir, my feet may be spread a little too wide. I mean, they feel uncomfortable to be so over-stretched apart.” Robbie complained politely.

“Perfect. Then all is in order. However, I will demonstrate your problem. If you move your hands or feet more than a fraction of an inch, the threads will break. Right?”

“Of, course, sir,” Robbie smiled. “I can easily remove myself from this wood frame, easily.”

“To be sure you understand, let me finish my demonstration. “Ok, now I am going to pinch your right nipple, do it  pretty hard, with my fingernails, your job is not to move. Are you ready?”

“Of course, sir.”

The captain pinched his nipple hard. Robbie jerked his arm down to cover and protect his nipple. And in the process, pulled his head down and away from the frame. This snapped the thread tied around his right wrist and the thread around his neck. And as his body twisted, he jerked his left leg as well which snapped that thread. It's all a very common reaction.

“Masters, retie our slave with another single thread to each limb and his neck.”

As the Masters did the retying, “Now, there is one thing I forgot to mention. You must surrender your body to me, or anyone else who honors you with their touch. That means you must not move a muscle, or at least, not pull on the threads. I guess you could wiggle your hips a little in frustration ‘cause that shouldn’t snap any threads. But you must not move your wrist or feet or your neck. When I touch you, you must not move, not at all. Understood?”

Dear Sweet Robbie, the Sequel
Part 4 of 5

“I… I… guess so,” Robbie answered hesitantly. Robbie began to understand his predicament. Or is that his per-dick-meat? His mindset is, of course, to obey and not move, but his body may react on its own. How is he supposed to stay still? He thought some reactions were involuntary. What the fuck?
“Oh, and there is one more rule I forgot to mention if you jerk in any way and the thread breaks, we immediately toss you out. You will be banished from the club, as will your parents.”

“Mistress Rachael would be banned? And Master Matt? Oh fuck. Please don’t do that. I will try my best not to break the thread, sir.”

Jimar was thinking, “What about me? I’ll be his Black Master soon, like tomorrow. I’ll take charge.” Jimar wanted to get back for all the teasing and degrading insults Robbie dished out years ago. Robbie was acting playfully, but Jimar took it seriously. And now, soon, very soon, Jimar would also be an owner of this white slave bitch.

“Trying is not good enough,” the Captain said. “You must succeed. Now, if you were wise, you would have picked the rope, so no matter how much you twisted and jerked, that rope would not break. But you chose the thread, now you must use all your strength and willpower to not move because there is no rope to hold you still. YOU must hold yourself still.”

“OK, let's try this one more time.” The captain began easy. He gently cupped Robbie's balls and wiggled his long, slender fingers to feather-tickle his perineum, the sensitive skin between the asshole and the balls.

Robbie did jerk his hips slightly, but more importantly, he pressed the backs of his hands tightly against the wood posts so he would not be tempted to jerk them away. He curled his toes to pretend he was grabbing onto the marble floor to remind his feet not to lift up in reaction. And he pressed his neck back against the horizontal board, to fight the natural instinct to jerk his head down in a recoil.

A woman sitting next to Rachael tapped her arm, “Excuse me. My name is Gertrude, I don’t understand why this is so different for your son. Why is everyone whispering, ‘he should have chosen the rope?’”

Rachael smiled, so proud that her slave son was doing so well. “Gertrude, you see, when Robbie is touched, tickled, pinched, or fingernails are raked over the sensitive parts of his body, it is natural that he jerks away from the touch. I mean, if someone pokes you sharply in the belly, your body reacts instantly and ‘automatically’ pull away.” The woman listened intently to Rachael. “Now, that Robbie is not at all secured to the posts, thread does not count, he has to force himself, with every ounce of strength he has, to stiffen and lean back against the wood posts. He must force himself to be and stay vulnerable. How delicious! Think about it, he is willingly holding himself spread-eagle! It makes it devilishly awesome to tease his body that is free to move but dare not move.” The two women laughed.

“He is being threatened that if the thread breaks, he will be banned along with his folks. He believes that. Of course, nothing is further from the truth. This audience loves Robbie and loves his tears and erotic torture. One thing about Robbie’s erotic nature is, he has to be forced, manipulated, and pushed into extreme public humiliation to be completely, erotically satisfied. He will always believe that he can’t do what is being asked and that he can’t be pushed any further, but you just watch his development over the coming months. We will embarrass and humiliate him far beyond this little demonstration.”

“Very good my dear slave boy, very good. Now, let’s try a bit more,” The Captain then took a large safety pin, about two inches long. He opened it and held out the sharp end for Robbie to look at. Then touched the sharp point to Robbie’s left nipple, without piercing the skin. Robbie's first instinct was to use his hand to bat it away. But he is learning not to move. He knows if he breaks the thread, he and his family will all be kicked out. Such wonderful pressure. Instead, Robbie just winched and moaned. “Again, very good. Let’s try the other one,” the captain said, and he poked the other nipple, just pushing the point against it, not into it. Robbie's face and body tensed. You could see his torso muscles straining. He wanted to shake his head ‘no,’ but that movement would break the thread around his neck. “I am impressed. You didn’t flinch much at all. And you kept your hands against the post, willingly. Do you see why rope would have been better? If you had rope bondage, you would not have to strain so much to resist moving. OK, I want to stick this pin into your right nipple. Would that be OK?”

“Ah… I… ah…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Then the Captain took a little prepackaged alcohol cloth and wipe the nipple then pushed the pinpoint into the boy’s nipple, let go of it and let it just stay stuck inside. It was only in him maybe a quarter of an inch, but Robbie took it, and he moaned. Vocalizing his frustration was about the only thing he could do without breaking any threads. “I must comment Mistress Rachael, she has trained you well. An, it would be a good idea for you to express appreciation also to her.” Robbie was not sure what to do or say.

“Well, should you thank Mistress Rachael for training you? I mean, you have a pin stabbed way into you and you are enjoying it, aren’t you? You love that pain, don’t you?” ‘Enjoying' this experience was not what Robbie was thinking. He does not understand, yet, that he craves this treatment.

Robbie was in a daze, he hadn’t noticed that his dick was once again huge, stiff, and thrust upward. He held his head up and back to prevent the thread from snapping. But the entire room saw the boy’s nice big dick, saluting them all.

“Thank you, Mistress, for training me. I love you so much. I don't deserve such kind treatment. I owe everything to you.” Then Robbie sobbed, in shame and embarrassment, as he did periodically during this humiliating spectacle.

“You know my dear slave. I don’t know if your behavior and submission tonight are sufficient to allow you and your family to be members, but I see you are trying. That’s a good sign. Just to let you know you must encourage me to torture you. I have to feel that you are desperate to be abused by me, as well as by anyone in this room.”

“Sorry sir, for my poor performance, I’ll do better.”

“I know you will. Now, I was thinking of taking this pin out of your right nipple …”

“Yes please…” The TV screens were showing close-ups of the boy’s nipple as it was pinned and unpinned.

“You did let me finish. I would like to take this out of your right nipple and stick it into your left nipple. But I want to push it sideways through your nipple, complete, so the point comes out the other side, and then close it. After all, it is a closeable safety pin. Would that be OK?”

Robbie’s dick was leaking slave slime. He was being so mind-fucked; he did know what to say.

“I won’t do that if you don’t want me to. But it would give me such great pleasure and joy. So, you’ll have to beg me if you want me to fasten this pin to your other nipple. I mean slave boys should be dressed up and proper like whore slaves, right?”

“Oh, God. Please, please dress me up. I want to be a whore slave as it would please you. I want you and my Mistress and everyone to be pleased with me. Please stick that pin though on my left nipple and help me to be a proper slave for you all. I must, I need my Mistress to approve of me. To want you to train me. Oh god. Please, I beg you. Please abuse my nipples, oh, kind sir.” And he sobbed.

“Well… if you insist. But… on second thought, are you worthy of being abused?”

“Oh fuck! No, I am so unworthy, but please make me worthy, please use me, please do whatever the fuck you want to me I fucking need it.”

“And, of course, you will not move your hands or feet? Right? You won’t move your head. You know the condition that you must not break any threads. Right?’


“Well, you don’t have to yell about.” And the audience laughed. “OK.” The Captain took another prepackaged alcohol cloth and swabbed the other nipple. He then removed the pin from his right nipple and pushed it into the side of the left. And pushed it all the way through. And then closed the pin.


“But slave boy, you need permission to climax.”

“Please, please let me shoot.” His body was trembling, vibrating, yet he kept his hand and feet where they were. “For god’s sake, I must shoot."

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll take a vote on the matter. OK?”

“FUCKING Please!”

The captain calmly, as if bored, asked, “OK, well, all members who want to allow this innocent, kind, loving, adorable, new slave to climax, please applaud.

The room was silent.

Robbie bawled out loud and cried and cried. His dick twitched and bobbed, and his body shook; he was so very sad and so very happy at the same time.

“Oh, my slave boy, not a single member wishes to let you climax. But let me calm you as one Master to his slave can do.”

The captain stepped close to the boy and embraced him, being careful not to snap any threads. He placed his hands on Robbie’s crying face and petted him, to comfort him in his extreme agony. He could not stop crying and could not stop seeping precum. His body was soaked in sweat. The captain, in his diabolical ways, couldn't help fondling the safety pin and thumping it with his thumb. tweaking it. Causing louder wailing. Yet, remarkably, Robbie, with tremendous effort, manage to keep his hand and feet exactly as they were. He willingly keeps himself vulnerable.

“There, such a happy slave boy. You love me, don’t you.”

In short breaths, “Yes – sir – I -- Love – You -- Sir”

With one hand the captain continued to pet Robbie’s head, and with the other, he now fingered the boy’s crazed hair-triggered dick.

“So, I suppose you want me to place another safety pin into your other nipple, don’t you?”

Robbie was finding it hard to speak, he wanted to just nod yes, but he knew the thread around his neck would break. So, in a horse whisper, “yes, please.”

“But I’m kind of tired. I was going to go and leave you alone. Maybe come back in a few hours. You're hard to take. I mean, you keep complaining and whining and you even have the nerve to ask the member to be allowed to climax. Wow! What a selfish slave slut you are. We are trying to do you favors and dress you up like the whore you are, and you don’t seem…”


“Well…” The captain paused for a long time, pretending to think it over. “OK, but the only words I want to hear out of your mouth is “Thank you, sir.”


The captain took another safety pin from his pocket, lined it up to the side of the right nipple, pushed it through, and closed it. “There.”

“Thank you, sir.” Robbie was glad that was over. He was relieved. He felt he could rest. Tue two safety pins were there, horizontally through his nipples. So cute.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I don’t think you all heard, but this slave had asked me if he could be of further service in training others. I told him yes.” Robbie didn’t say a thing, but if asked, he would have agreed. Then, again, what he says or wants is of no significance. “So, who would like to help put this place candidate in his place?” A lot of members raised their hands, but the captain chose a dark-haired favorite of the club, Miguel. He was popular because he had Cerebral palsy and was on 2 crutches. “Ah, Master Miguel. Perfect. Yes, make your way here.” The audience applied 35-year-old Miguel as he struggled to approach Robbie. Here was an extremely weak fellow, yet he was a dom. How powerful is it to be so physically weak, and yet, control a strong, muscular man?

“Well, Mr. Miguel, see our new slave boy? What do you think of these safety pins in his nipples.” The TV screens showed close-ups of the pins through each nipple.

“Oh, can I’d play with them? Twist them and enjoy myself.”

“Well, why don’t you ask the slave.”

“Well?” Miguel said defiantly.

“Ah, please Master Miguel, please play with my pinned-up nipples.” He roughly grabbed one nipple in each little hand and twisted them clockwise and counterclockwise. Robbie nearly blacked out.

"Please, Master, I don’t want to break the thread, so please be gentle.”

"Oh, you mean gentle like this?" and again he twisted and pulled on each very sore nipple. Am I doing it correctly?” Miguel teased, really torturing Robbie’s slightly bleeding nipples. Crippled up Miguel was a bit of a masochist. He enjoyed these moments of ultimate control and power over strong men.

Robbie was a senior in high school, fabulous in sports, and well-toned, and this Master was very skinny and weighed no more than 120 pounds. AND Robbie had to surrender to his Master.

“AH. OWE. Oh YES, my Master. Yes, perfectly. OWE!” Robbie wanted to quit, pass out or die. More than anything in the world, he simply wanted to snap the threads on his wrists to cover his nipples to protect them.

“Owe you say? Well, if I am doing it too hard, just cover your titties with your hands, and I’ll let you. It’s fine with me. You can cover your titties up so I don’t have access to them.” Robbie sobbed. He sobbed at the cruelty of this little Master on crutches but could do nothing about it. “You stand there, all spread out, your hands up in the air like you are welcoming me to pull your titties off, pins and all,” he giggled. “You are inviting me to have fun?”

He whimpered, “Yes, my Master. Please have fun.”

“Well, that’s a nice gesture, but I don’t need your approval.” Then he turned to the Captain, “Do you have any more of those pins?”

Without any inquiry or concern, the Caption reached into his pants pocket and produced another two-inch safety pin. “Here you go, Master Miguel.”

Master Miguel opened the pin and without asking for permission, or any hesitation, he stabbed the pin through Robbie’s septum where a nose ring would be inserted, and quickly closed it.

“OWE! FUCK! That hurts!” The camera zoomed in again at the horizontal safety pin through the nose. There was almost no blood.

“Hey slave boy, if you want to remove it, just go ahead, remove it. If you do, I won’t put it back,” he said coyly, trying to goat him into breaking the thread by reaching to unclasp the pin.

Robbie just stayed all spread out, hands held high, protecting the single white cotton threads that “bound” him.

“My, Master Miguel, you are an artist too,” said the Captain. “Now he looks even more decorated. Fantastic.” The audience applauded as Miguel carefully maneuvered back to his seat.

“Okay folks, I think this slaved boy has had enough of me. I could go on, but I don’t want to overdo my training. He needs time away from me, and I think I need a well-deserved drink!” The audience applauded and cheered the Captain’s fabulous show.”

Robbie was so relieved. FINALLY, it was over. He’ll soon be released from the wooden frame. He didn’t need any help; he could just pull his limbs away from the frame and break all the threads himself. But he certainly needed permission. Soon he’d be out of the spotlight and with his parents and brother at the table. Maybe there would still be some dessert left. So glad to be done. “What a fucking torturous day.” He said to himself. But he did feel proud of himself that he never pulled on the threads. He did it. He succeeded. He was pleased and exhausted.

“Correction., The captain called out. “I thought the slave and I were both tired and needed a break but look here.” The room went quiet. Everyone looked at the huge monitors. The captain stepped to the side of Robbie, “Look what we have here,” and pointed to Robbie’s big, purple angry bobbing dick, still pointed upward. “Well, I guess only I need a break. This slave boy needs a little more attention, but not from me, from all of you.” There was still silence in the room as the captain pulled something made of shiny chrome metal out of a box. He held it up.

Dear Sweet Robbie, the Sequel
Part 5 of 5

You all know what this is, most of you. Or at least you have seen one. It’s a stainless-steel nerve testing tool, doctors call it a pinwheel. They roll the sharp pinpoint edge to prick the skin to test the nerve reactions. sensation.
I guess you can say, it is for pricks.” Everyone giggled. Actually, it is for pricks and balls, and nipples, and underarms, and tongues, and ears, and knees, and buttocks, and ass cracks and between the toes, and fingers, and… Well, you get the idea. But I am not going to demonstrate this on our dear sweet slave boy. I want groups of 10 to come up all at once. Yes, come on 10 of you. We are going to see if we can prick this prick to death!” More laughter.

A young bare-chested man in a black chrome studded collar yelled out, “Wait, this does not make sense, You want us to come up in groups of 10 and you have only one pinwheel?” That concern made sense.

“OOPs, my bad.” Then the captain smiled and puffed out his chest, foretelling a joke, he picked up the box, opened it, and showed the audience its content. It was a box full of metal prinking pinwheels. “Yes, everyone in the group gets a pricking raking tool so the entire group will rake our slave’s body all over, all at the same time. His skin will be in a super state of erotic fire.” The entire room erupted in applause and cheers. “We never did this before, but his victim, I mean, our dear sweet slave boy seems insatiable. Look at his dick dancing… ah… prick. It certainly seems to be begging for some… ah… prick pricking.” He was so right; Robbie was in shock. He was not understanding everything, his only focus was that no matter what was about to happen, he will not allow the cotton threads to break.

As the first group came forward, the captain opened the box, took out a dozen metal pinwheels, and handed them out. “OK, folks, I want all of you to surround our sexed-up sex toy and roll these super-sharp pinwheels on any and every part of his body. And, do notice how he is keeping his arms held high and out of our way. Obviously, he is asking us to work every inch of his body!”

The first group of 10 members all took their torture tool and assembled, squeezed around Robbie, extended the arm with the pinwheel, and rolled it along his skin every which way. There was such a commotion. No one expected this group assault, but they loved it.

As the captain stood back, he watched a free-for-all happening. It was chaotic. The captain was a leader and a true organizer and saw some procedure was needed. “OK, folks, we need a little order here. Let’s form smaller groups. I will direct you in an orderly manner. OK, now, everyone steps back. They did. Robbie felt a moment of relief. “Now, first, I want you two,” pointing to a married couple up front, “to work on his dick and balls. Go ahead and begin as I continue to explain further. One of you roll your pinwheel lightly - and we all will do this lightly, at least at first - along the top of his dick, from the base to the tip, including the mushroom head. Then the other one will roll her torture tool along the underside of his dick from the tip to the base, but also over his balls.”

Again, the camera zoomed in on Robbie, this time his stiff dick. Everyone could see the pinwheels in motion, one going up one side and the other going down the other. They eagerly began trying different paths for their roller wheels. “I’ll refer to you as the dick workers.”

“AHHHHH OOOOHH. FUCK!” Robbie couldn’t take it. Little did he realize that his agony was just beginning.

“OK, you two, pointing to the bare-chest, collared lad and a mistress dressed in pink, “you’ll be the ass workers. Go around his backside and you will be using your pinwheel on his buttocks, yes, but more importantly up and down his ass crack. You can figure out who does what, or rotate, But you must also include the back side of his hanging balls. Plus, occasionally rake your tools over the full-back area, it’s very sensitive there also. This is a learning session, so experiment, all of you.: they began to salivate as they lightly rolled their picking tools as directed.

“Now, we need a couple of chest workers.” A bunch of people raised their hands. A Master and slave couple were chosen. “Great, your focus will be on his safety-pinned nipples, but also all over his chest, and don’t forget, the belly is very sensitive too. So, take your time and see what areas cause him to tremble and shake. Remember, our dear sweet salve boy will need to use tremendous strength to allow you to prick his nipples and chest. So, at first, go gently, to allow him to get used to the pricking. But, in another sense, his remaining still is his problem. If he’d only chosen the rope, he’d be free to twist and jerk all he needed to shake off pent-up stress and tension. But, as usual, slave candidates always choose the thread for their initiation. Poor boy.” As they began, Robbie was getting horse from gasping and humming and crying and mindless blubbering, nonstop.

“OK, now, we need foot workers. OK, you two gentlemen,” referring to a couple of seniors in their 70s, both masters. He gestured for them to come closer, he wanted to tell them something in secret. “Look, you have a tricky role. Each of you will be at one of his feet. Now his feet are planted on the marble floor and are tied with threads. Forget about the rule, here. You’ll need to lift each foot, one at a time, and use your pinwheels. So just send the thread and go for it. But only one of you can lift only a foot at a time, of course. So, you must look at each other. So, if you lift his right foot, you work the pinwheel on the bottom of it, and be sure to work it lightly, and between the toes. As the other one works the top of the left foot. Not, the ankle is especially sensitive. Then switch so the other lifts a foot. Go back and forth. As for the threads breaking, that was just a rouse anyway, so who the fuck cares if the threads break. They both laughed knowing it was the same will all slave initiations. They began their delicious work.

“Now, we need a couple who will create, perhaps, the greatest erotic torture. The underarm workers. But this includes the entire arm and hand on your side. Since you are tall, this should be great for you. Now, as I told the foot workers, he will immediately pull and snap the threads holding his wrist up. That's fine. Ignore that. But you can remind him, sternly, ‘keep your hands up high!’ I’m sure he will try, but no one ever resisted lowering his arms. It’s just human nature. Your task is most interesting because he will be laughing and crying and screaming all at the same time. Interestingly, most slaves, at this point will lose control of their bladder and begin to piss all over the place. Wonderful!

Sometimes they piss a mixture of urine and cum. It’s so fabulous. So awesome. And like everyone else, experiment and try different strokes on the underarms. One other common reaction is that a slave can start to mumble gibberish, and his entire body will convulse. We have a 10 of you to sort of keep him upright, but at this point, how the fuck cares, he is our dear sweet slave doll. So you may begin.”

Immediately, as they started your pinwheels on both underarms at the same time, Robbie bought his arms down, snapping the thread, trying to close his vulnerable underarms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t, I am so sorry.” he went on and on.

“Keep your hands up high. You want to get us in trouble? Fucking stay still!”

“Sirs. I am so fucking sorry. I… I… I am so, so fucking…”

The two tall, skinny teen boys could barely hold back their giggles as they pretended to be tough bastards. Robbie tried so hard to keep his arms up, but the challenge was overwhelming. His body needed to protect itself from all the pinwheel attacks, yet the Captain ordered him to obey and stay still, no matter what.

He was in a state of extreme hysteria. One foot after the other was lifted, exposing his ticklish soles that were pricked-raked with the pinwheels. His ass crack was being rolled along and erotically tortured as were his hanging balls, front and back. His pinned-up nipples were raked over and around causing equal amounts of pain and pleasure. His underarms were assaulted mercilessly, being raked with the sharp wheels on both sides simultaneously. His dick was jerking, as if nodding “yes,” as the steel wheels were rolled the length of his dick, both along the top and underneath.

Robbie’s entire body was spasming uncontrollably. His hand and feet were no longer bound by threads, but he still tried to hold his arms up and his legs wide apart. He was mumbling incoherently, and saliva was dribbly from his mouth, as he emitted all sorts of low-pitched animalistic groans and screams.

Of all his reactions, the one the captain was waiting to see happen concerned Robbie’s over-excited dick. Robbie’s dick was not shooting loads of cum as one might have in any kind of “normal” climax, but rather a unique, slow, and continuous flow of slave juice. Just before the 10-person pinwheel erotic torture began, the captain had placed a bowl on the floor under Robbie’s dick. And now its purpose was clear. It was there to collect that flow of cum mixed with some piss, the stream of saliva that worked its way down into the fluid receptacle, as well as the sweat dripping down. The Overseers Club referred to such body fluids gathered in this particular manner as the “Golden Torture Juice.”

Robbie was unaware of time, place, people, or purpose of anything happening to him. His eyes were open, but he was not seeing anything, his mind was a fog, and he heard nothing but his own unrecognizable wailing. His body was jerking twisting, convulsing, but he had nothing to do with it. Others were controlling all aspects of his life.

Robbie did not ever hear the captain's orders, “OK, let’s let the first team of 10 relax. Please keep your pinwheels as a souvenir. Have a seat and watch the work of this next team on the monitors. Now, you know what the particular pinwheel jobs are. Take fresh pinwheels from the box and choose who will begin anew on this slave's dick, and ass, and feet, and underarms, and nipples. You saw the first group do excellent teamwork, so just begin. Take your time, you also get 15 minutes before the third group takes your place.”

One critical step was, at the end of each team’s 15-minute slave initiation session, the captain retrieves the bowl of “Golden Torture Juice.” He held it up for all to see and then brought it up to the dear sweet slave boy’s mouth. Robbie just stared meaninglessly at it.

The captain gave Robbie a huge smile as if coaxing a baby to smile back. Robbie grinned a bit. “I think you need some nutrients.” Robbie slowly blinked a few times, “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” he slurred.

“Here you go.” The captain had to tilt Robbie’s head back, letting his mouth fall open and then the mix of cum, piss, sweat, and saliva, about half a cup, was slowly and carefully poured into Robbie’s mouth.

“Ok, the next team may begin.”

By the time the third torture team finished it’s 15-minutes, Robbie produced only a couple of tablespoons of Golden Torture Juice. Robbie awoke naked and groggy laying on a red velvet mattress in the center of the floor area. His initiation was over. The monitors were showing him slowly recovering. He was being gently massaged and rubbed by serval brother slave members to calm and soothe his, body, mind, and soul. They were using warm clothes to wipe his body down. Of course, they left the safety pins in his nipples and nose, it was not for them to remove those. He was allowed to sleep, which he did off and on, looking like a normal naked boy, except for the safety pins. The rest of the club members continued to conduct club business and have another round of champagne.

About an hour later, when Robbie had recovered, Rachael and Matt were called to the podium and presented with Robbie’s official slave collar. It was handed to Mistress Rachael. Then, dear sweet slave boy, Robbie was called to join them. The boy just knew to bow and prostrate himself to his superiors.
Rachel gestured for him to stand and present his neck. His Mistress fastened the collar around the boy's neck, which was securely locked with a snap. It could only be removed by the key that Rachael would keep. Robbie immediately crumbled to the floor to hug and kiss his Mistress’ shoes. He became so overwhelmed with complete happiness that he burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably. Everyone applauded and cheered. Robbie was well-liked, so much so that he had a special unofficial title, “dear sweet slave boy.”

You might think such a prestige kink club as this would have presented a slave collar with chrome studs and a fancy embossed design. However, Robbie was at slave level one, there were four higher levels to achieve in the coming years. So his first official collar was simply black shiny leather. It didn’t even have the traditional buckle, just the snapping lock. Mistress Rachael ended up placing the key on a gold chain, hanging around her neck, displaying her most precious piece of jewelry.

As left the hall of the Grand Empress Hotel and entered the grand lobby, dozens of people were milling around, checking in, checking out, and sitting in the lobby sofas and chairs waiting for whatever. And there came Matt, Rachael, and their son Jimar. All dressed up in high fashion. Jimar with his royal blue velvet tux was so sharp. He would have been the center of attention as they were crossing the huge lobby, if it was not for Robbie, walking behind them was totally naked wearing only his shiny black leather slave collar, and displaying the safety pins in his nipples and nose. What a fucking hot sight! He had hoped his parents would hurry it up, to get into the car quickly, but not a chance. In fact, Rachael saw another friend there from the women’s club and stopped to chat. All the while, naked Robbie stood still looking down, knowing he was NEVER allowed to place his hands over his dick to hide it.

It must have been Rachael’s forethought to have the valet park the car at the farthest end of the hotel’s huge parking lot. There were lots of people all over the lot as well, arriving and leaving. A valet asked for the car ticket, but Rachael waved him off, “Oh, we need the walk. The fresh air, we’ll walk.” And there they meandered through the parking lot to show off their naked slave son. Finally, into the car they went, Rachal and Matt in the front seat, and Jimar and Robbie in the back. Robbie wished the safety pin would be removed, but decisions were no longer his concern. Matt started the engine and off they went. Jimar looked at Robbie and calmly said, “I don’t think you should be sitting on the seat, do you?”

Robbie, forgetting who, or better put - what the was - slid immediately to the floor. “You know, after all, you went through tonight, I thought you’d know how to treat your betters.”

“Sorry, sir,” Robbie told his former brother as he cowered on the backseat floor.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. You are officially a slave. You know what is expected of you. I used to be your Black brother, now I’m your Black Master. Just look at me.”

Robbie lifted his head and looked at the Black man dressed in his beautiful tuxedo. He never saw his brother as handsome, but for whatever reason, he now saw him as gorgeous, graceful, impressive, suave, and stylish. He never saw his brother as anything more than he, but now, Jimar was smart, powerful, commanding, shrewd, resourceful, confident, and of executive quality.

“I have to admit when all those members were putting you through your initiation, I was envious. I wanted to be there, working you over real good. I’d love to have fuck you right in front of all those socialites. Plow you good. A black man, fucking his white bitch slave. And you know what, you would have loved it. Wouldn’t you.”

Robbie sobbed, “Yes Master,” he was so embarrassed to admit that he’d love it more than anything in the world.

“Tell me, my dear sweet slave boy? Spill your guts.”

“Yes sir, I would love you to fuck your white bitch slave in front of everyone, pound me good. Make me beg for more. The audience would applaud you louder than ever. You would be seen as the handsome Master you are. I think back on how awful I treated you, calling you my nigger slave and teasing you and making fun of you being Black.” Robbie cried and continued. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“I’ve never fucked you… yet. That's because you don’t deserve to be fucked by my huge fuck stick. Boy, you’d have to go a long way down the path of complete degenerate before you get the Godly honor of me pounding your white bitch ass. Well, we have a lot of years for you to make it up to me. Right?”

“Yes, sir, my handsome Black Master.”

“BITCH! That was a hint!” Matt and Rachael were listening to “their boys” and approving of all Jimar was saying. They were so proud of Jimar because he was quickly developing into a knowledgeable Master.

All of a sudden, Jimar felt his shoe being unlaced, then taken off. Jimar, ignoring the insignificant bitch on the floor, focused on chit-chatting with his parents. Jimar was calmly discussing the college course he’d be taking next semester. Robbie stayed huddled in the cramped floor space and removed Jimar’s sock. FUCK! He saw that beautiful, athletic foot, smooth black skin, and gorgeous big black toes. Robbie began to kiss and lick that all-powerful Master-foot. He held it preciously in both hands and made love to it. Then Jimar felt his other shoe and sock being removed. Jimar’s huge, uncut dick was pushing against his royal blue velvet tuxedo pants. He never wore underwear, so there was quite a bulge there which he smiled about, but otherwise ignored.
And again, that wet sexy, slave tongue roamed all around that foot too. Robbie was moaning with unbelievable pleasure. His dick was once again at full mast. The boy had learned a lot in his short tenure of slavehood, including not to touch his dick. In fact, a switch had clicked in Robbie’s slave brain, probably during the initiation, that he now derives no pleasure in playing with his dick. His only source of pleasure is in serving his superiors, such as worshiping his Black Master's feet.

The bottom line is the new handsome Black Master, Jimar, will have extreme, exquisite erotic adventures for years. While, on the other hand, his new white dear sweet slave boy, Robbie, will have extreme, exquisite erotic adventures for years. Perfect.

The End

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