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Stories of the Slave Center The Nation's Largest Retailer of Faggots _______________________
A Trial Period of Enslavement Chapter 4: Stopping for Lunch
by slave 7
Disclaimer: This is a story of erotic fiction containing fantasy descriptions of Male-male slavery, which may include sexual acts, BDSM and nudity. It is a intended for adults only. You must be of legal adult age to read this work. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Synopsis:
"Well, I didn't expect all that to happen," Master Rob broke the silence. "Let's stand up and get my slave better kitted out. Then, I'll continue your tour of the ranch."
"Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master."
I stood up in front of my master and placed my hands behind my back. "Stay," Master left me standing there for a few moments. He quickly returned, though, sat back on his stool, and had me lift first my left foot onto the stool, and then my right. He placed steel cuffs around both my ankles. They matched the ones already around wrists and I believe they matched the collar around my neck. "There," he said, "Now, my new slave is dressed in the basic slave wear of this ranch, the way I think a slave should always be. Let's go."
He stood up and started walking, and I followed, saying, "Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master."
As I stood up for the first time in nearly two hours, I felt a bit strange, like my body needed some stretching out. Still, I left my slave hands behind my slave back, for that is where Master ordered them to be. I sort of wriggled my slave spine and stretched my slave hamstrings as I followed Him.
Master stopped at a small storage room just inside the main door of the stables. When he came out, he had a coiled single-tail whip hanging at his left hip. At his right hip, he had what appeared to be a riding crop. I both feared and appreciated the tools he now carried.
He wore them at his sides naturally, like he wore his hat, jeans and shirt. They were normal for him, just tools that he may need during the course of any given day on his ranch. Normal. Nothing big and dramatic. No bravado. No sense of threat or intimidation. In fact, as we walked outside, some men walking by greeted my master with friendly hellos, and he greeted them with the same. Cheerfulness. One of the men informed him, "We're heading in for lunch. Then, we'll see what kind of fun we can have for the rest of the day. It's Saturday, you know."
"Oh, is it really almost lunch time already?" my Master asked.
They men nodded `yes' and continued about their day. I noted that neither of those two men took any notice of me at all. Seeing a slave was just normal to them and nothing special to take notice of.
Master walked back toward where I had showered and cleaned out my ass. "Slave, this is where my slaves wash themselves, like it did this morning. And over here, where it cleaned out the slave ass," he pointed to the large drain hole, "is the slave toilet. It is a squat toilet. So, when you need to take a shit, you just squat and go into the hole. There is no toilet paper for slaves, so use the hose to clean up the slave plug-hole. Is that clear, slave?"
"Master, yes, master. So, slaves just shit out in the open, with no room or curtains, Master?"
"That's right. slaves don't get privacy."
Master started walking again, this time around to the back of his house and to areas I had not yet seen.
"It's getting close to lunch time. You saw some of the men coming in for lunch, and back here is where my slaves eat. It's a little early, but rather than tour my new slave around some, I'm going to get it ready for lunch."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
As I looked around I saw nothing that looked like a dining area. There were no tables and chairs. Nothing. I noticed a few slaves walking about, the one I had seen earlier through the kitchen window and a couple others that were busy at some task or other. All were "dressed" exactly as I was, with steel collar and wrist and ankle cuffs. All moved about freely, as if they knew what they needed to do. They noticed me, but they paid no mind.
I saw a clock hanging on the side of the house next to the back door. It read 11:45. Wow, I thought to myself. I had only been on the ranch since about 7:30 that morning, and I was already shaved bare all over my body, had a collar and cuffs placed on me, had spent time in bondage, had a plug with tail shoved up my ass for some hours, and had agreed with a man I hardly knew to a trial period of being a total slave. He's used the words "chattel" and "livestock" in regard to what being a slave meant to him. Yet here I was, happy as could be, for the time being.
Master led me over to a trough about 10 to 12 feet long. The trough itself wasn't very wide or deep. The whole thing was under a shade cover, and there were bars through which the animals stuck their heads in order to eat from the trough. There were also a couple bars that ran parallel to the trough, with rings and clips placed all across. It looked like whatever animal eats there had its legs locked into place. I wondered why, but before I could think very much about it, Master brought his hand behind my neck and guided me down, to all fours, in the dirt. Once I was in position, he ordered, "Crawl forward."
I crawled forward a foot or two. My head was now between two bars and my face was over the trough. "Good slave," Master said.
He pulled a lever somewhere, and the upright bars closed snugly around my neck and effectively locked my head in place. Again, my face was right over the trough. But a bar I hadn't noticed came up under my chin and made it impossible for me to put my head down to the trough. Master then quickly attached each of my cuffs to the clips that ran along the bars going parallel to the trough. He did so very quickly, like he was an old hand at managing the task of getting slaves ready to eat a meal.
Master Rob Carter walked away but came back very quickly. He stepped behind where my ass was up and open to the world. With little preparation, he slid a plug up my ass, seemingly without much concern of how troubling it might be for me to take it. It did hurt, but only to the degree that I gasped and felt the true impact of it for a short time once it was fully in. I then felt the tail tumble down the backs of my thighs to lie along my calves and ultimately the dirt.
"A slave on my ranch lives the life of one of my animals," Master stated, and he began to walk away, saying to me as he did, "My slave's lunch will be ready shortly enough."
So, there I was, a lone slave locked into a kind of feeding trough, with a tail emanating from my asshole. And it felt good. Weird, but good. I think my dick was hard. But, again, I had given up noticing whether my dick was hard or not. What did it matter to anybody?
Soon, another slave came to the trough and assumed the position for eating. Someone, I couldn't really see who, locked the slave in, same as me. Then another, and another, and another came, till there were 7 or 8 slaves locked into the trough. Every slave I could see was shaved bare all over and wore the same collar and restraints as me. Some slave asses didn't sport tails, but others did. No slave spoke, but some emitted kinds of grunts and snorts and heavy breaths.
I figure I was locked at the trough for about 10 or 15 minutes before a man approached with a large metal pot and ladle. The handsome young man, perhaps even a teenager, arrived at the trough and the row of bound slaves. He began ladling a kind of mush into the trough, a scoop or two in front of each slave. When he was finished serving the mush, he said, in a voice surprisingly deep and manly for one who looked so young and twinkish, "Okay, faggots. It's the usual today. Eat up and enjoy." He flipped a lever and the bar beneath my chin fell away. I could hear the other slaves eating already, so I lowered my head, paused only slightly, and then dug in.
My face, I'm sure, was a mess. The only way to eat the mush was to bury my face in the pile and bite and suck at the stuff. I'm not sure what the meal was exactly, but, in texture, it reminded me of polenta or grits, with occasional chunks of what may have been meat. I noticed some green coloration, so I assume there was something vegetable in it. It didn't taste bad, but it didn't taste good. It was just sort of there, bland. Yet, I ate with gusto, like a hungry animal. And, mid meal, I noticed my cock was now roaring hard. I wriggled my ass around, too, now doubt causing my tail to move in interesting ways.
I suddenly heard the young feeder's voice right behind me saying, "Looks like this new slave likes to eat!" He patted my right ass cheek firmly and then pulled my tail ever so slightly, just enough for my asshole to feel the glory. I think it all put me in a kind of shock, yet made me hard as a rock. I loved the sound of the young man's voice, and when his hand patted my rump and pulled my tail, all heaven had broken loose deep within me.
Once the young feeder was satisfied that all the slaves had eaten their share, he pulled a lever again, and the bar returned to raise our chins up and keep them there. We were locked and made virtually immobile again. The feeder announced to us all, "Slaves, some of you will be taken back to work in a minute or so. The others will have a little wait before being picked up by a handler. For those waiting, you'll remain in place here, and I'll bring water to you."
He flipped the lever which released only our necks, then walked away. I heard some handlers releasing some of the slaves till only 3 of us slaves remained. When the young handler returned, he hit the lever again, and again our necks were secured, with our chins held up and away from the trough. "Okay, now it's time for some water."
He gave water to the other two slaves first, but I couldn't really see anything with my neck trapped the way it was. When he approached me from the opposite side of the trough, he leaned over the trough so that he could bring the water bottle to my mouth. It was one of those large bottles with a nipple with which one might give drink to a calf. "Here, slave," said the feeder. I sucked happily, till I needed to suck no more, till I had had my fill.
When he had finished giving us water, he flipped levers again, releasing our heads from all feeder bars. Still, ankles and wrists remained secured. The other two slaves were soon picked up by a big middle-aged man with a hearty laugh. "Come on, slaves, let's get back to work," he chortled as he led them away.
So, there I was again, bound and alone. I didn't mind at all, though. My cock had shriveled to it's smallest state of flaccidity, but I was happy. What need did I have of a hard cock anyway? I rested there for some minutes, I guess. I didn't know for how long, for I had lost my sense of time.
I remember that, suddenly, Master Rob Carter was behind me and unlocking me from the trough. Had I fallen asleep for a few minutes? I felt kind of disoriented, or was I just feeling pure and true for the first time ever?
"Hey, slave. Joe told me you enjoyed the meal. I'm glad. One thing that would happen if I could enslave you long term is that your body would become healthier than it's ever been. You'd get all the nutrition and exercise a slave body needs to be perfectly weight appropriate. You would develop good musculature and maintain healthy cardio and pulmonary systems. So, you see, slavery can be good for you. I just thought you needed to hear that."
When I was free of all the bonds that held me in for lunch, Master said, "Stand and look at me, slave."
"Master, yes, Master." I had almost forgotten to verbally acknowledge his order. I stood and turned toward him, planting my feet about shoulder width apart and my arms behind my back, my head held high, as was my order to always do.
Master Rob, standing some inches taller than me, looked down at my face. He proclaimed me to be a good potential slave, and off we went to wherever he was leading me.
"This day isn't working out the way I thought it would, slave. I think I won't provide you with a full tour of the ranch right now. I thought we'd be done before lunch, but now it's Saturday afternoon and we've barely started. Oh well, that's the way life goes. We have some down time on the ranch on Saturday afternoons. So, we'll be a part of that. It'll give everybody a chance to meet my new trial-basis slave."
As Master Rob walked on quickly, I followed right behind, enjoying my backside view of the Man. He has such a nice ass, and his jeans show it off well. He was still carrying that riding crop at his left hip, with the single-tail whip coiled up at his right. I, of course, had my steel collar and wrist and ankle restraints, as well as his butt plug tail up my ass. I was walking barefoot on natural earth, like every slave I had seen so far on this ranch, and Master Rob, like every clothed man I had seen on the ranch, was wearing cowboy boots.
Master Rob looked back at me and asked, "Doing okay, slave? Are my slave feet tough enough to walk on earth?"
"Master, yes, Master. It seems okay so far, Master."
We came to an area of the property where there were several trees clumped together. I noticed a trail that went into the trees, but Master stopped at a bench at the foot of the path. He sat down and said nothing to me, but I knew what I needed to do.
I knelt before him. My slave hands remained behind my slave back. My slave eyes looked up at him. He seemed so manly and handsome to me now. I felt my slave jaw relax. Then, I simply said, "Master," as I bowed my slave head toward him.
"Good. Boots," He said and pointed. I had done this before, so down I went and kissed and licked both of his boots, over and over and all over, top side and under, until He said, "Enough." The offer of his boot is such a simple yet gratifying gift a Master can provide for his slave.
I came back up to a kneeling position. "Relax," he said. I was a bit unsure what this meant, but I sat in the dirt, with my tail splayed out behind me. At first, I remained facing Master Rob, but, as he had told me to relax, I took the liberty of relaxing as felt natural. I scooted my ass closer to him, came up slightly beside him, and laid my head on his leg, just above the knee. He did not object to this, so I moved one arm around his calf and the other under his thigh. I felt like I was hugging him, and maybe this is what Master felt as well, for he said, "Good slave." It was a joyful and intimate moment. It all felt so comfortable, and natural, and even sweet.
"It's a beautiful day, slave. We're just going to sit here and relax a little."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
He took a deep breath. "Doesn't this feel nice, slave?"
"Master, yes, Master, it feels really good to be here, Master."
"Good. That's a good sign, for both of us."
We sat there awhile, but then I started feeling a bit fidgety. I loved the feel of my cheek against his jeans, and I realized that if I turned my head a bit I could look right at his crotch, and so I did.
"I know what you want, slave. Maybe someday."
"Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
After a few more minutes of relaxed silence, Master asked, "What is it you are feeling now, my slave? What is it you feel inclined to do?''
Something came to mind right away, but I felt embarrassed to tell him. I hesitated enough for him to notice, so he said, "Come on, tell your Master. What, in this moment, do you feel inclined to do. Tell me, slave."
"Master, to worship you, Master."
After a slight hesitation, Master said, "Good, that is as it should be, my slave. Show me."
Master told me later that he was somewhat taken aback by my answer. He explained that, in His experience, it usually takes a more experienced slave to feel the need to openly worship its master.
I lifted my head and looked at him. "Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
I scooted back in the dirt, so that his slave was more out in front him and had some space. I thought briefly about all the times I'd discovered that many use the term `worship' as a euphemism for sucking cock or some such activity. For me, worship meant the sending of love and devotion out of my being and to the object of my worship. It wasn't a physical action, really. Or, at least, no touching of the recipient of my worship needed to be involved.
I knelt before him as he remained sitting on the bench in the shade of the trees. I raised my arms high above my head, which again brought to my own attention that I was naked and shaved all over, that I had ankle and wrist restraints on as well as a wide slave collar. I then bent forward, placing my forehead to the ground before my master's feet. Up and down I went, bowing and praying. "Master. Master. Master, my Master. Lord Master. Beautiful Master. Great Master. This slave is honored to serve you, my Lord Master, Sir," I spoke my words of worship.
Soon I just sort of landed on the repeating of certain terms and phrases as I let my feelings of worship run freely and to occupy my entire body and consciousness.
"Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir. Lord. Sir. Lord. Master. God. Sir. Master. Lord, God, Sir. Master..." I went on like this for what must have been a couple minutes or more. Then, Master said, "Good slave. Let your master feel it. Let me feel it. Give it to me, my slave. Give it all to me. Hand yourself over. Help me see what you are."
And so I kept going, with renewed vigor, with a stronger voice born of His support and encouragement. I kept it up for what seemed like several minutes, until the energy began to wind down, naturally. I was sweating profusely, I was breathing heavily, I was happy. I came to quiet rest with my forehead on his boots. I ended with, "Master, thank You, Lord Master, Sir. Thank you for allowing your slave to worship you, Master. It is an honor, and your slave is grateful, Master."
I thought I was done and winding down to zero, but then something burst within me, and I began anew, saying things I didn't know I was about to say. "Master, thank You, Great Lord. This slave will earn this place of worship, Master. This slave will earn its place of privilege and honor before You, Lord and Master. This slave pledges its obedience to You, Master. A life of service to You, Master. Please allow this slave to earn its place, Master, to worship You, my Master."
Master Rob stayed quiet for some time. So, I stayed where I was for a while and then resumed my relaxed position at his leg, holding it lightly and softly resting my head on his thigh. He put a hand on the back of my shaved head. "Good slave. Be what you are. I've got you." he stated. I answered: "Yes, Master, thank you, Master." Who says there is no heaven on earth?
We sat there quietly for a while, listening to the light breeze in the trees, the insects, an occasional bird.
"It seems I'll have to adjust my expectations of you. I knew you were ripe and ready, but I didn't think you were this ripe and ready. Some slaves take more than a year before they are able to release from within like you just did."
He took his hand from the back of my head and said, "Up, my slave," as he motioned his hand to indicate that I was to resume my kneeling position in front of him.
Once I was kneeling before him, he said, "First, slave, a matter of necessity. I know I told you where you can shit, but I don't think I told you where you may piss. The answer is pretty much anywhere, just away from buildings, water and livestock facilities. I bet my slave needs to piss, so crawl over there near the low branches and piss."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master." He told me to crawl, so I assumed that meant I was not to stand and piss. I hiked my right leg, like a male dog, though I found that to be cumbersome. Maybe next time I'd try to piss without lifting a leg. I crawled back to Master Rob and knelt before him. He said nothing about how I pissed.
"Men can piss anywhere, too, of course, and so they do. But there's one special place where the men here often prefer to piss. Can you guess where that is, slave?"
I stayed quiet, but I opened my mouth wide. I was pretty sure that was the right answer.
"You haven't even seen my cock yet, slave, but if you keep that mouth open I'll conclude that you're ready to drink from your Master."
I kept my mouth open, my body in a proper slave kneeling position.
He stood up and took a step or so to get up near my mouth. I was feeling thrilled. I yearned for the smell, the look, the feel of his cock, and for his piss. Is this what slavery is like? Then sign me up!
He opened his fly and took out his dick. To my great joy and satisfaction, it was large and meaty, and there were enough hairs protruding from his fly that I could tell he did not trim his bush. Even more satisfaction entered my heart. "Come on, toilet. Show me something a slave is good for."
Master lifted the head of his dick enough so that it was at the perfect height to enter my mouth. I took in just the head and closed my lips around it. Without hesitation, without doubt or holding back, Master let go with his full stream, and I took it in my mouth.
It's hard to describe the joy and satisfaction of drinking a Man's piss directly from his cock, but, oh, can it be heaven! And this was heaven. It was a nice long piss, and I didn't miss a drop. When the stream stopped, I sucked out every last drip. I pulled back his foreskin and licked the whole head of his cock clean. Then, he quickly put himself back in his jeans and zipped up his fly.
I felt so deeply satisfied. "Master, thank you, Master," I said with some enthusiasm. He said nothing at all. He just took it as the natural and normal thing for his slave to do. And it is.
After some minutes of quiet time, Master began, "So, my slave here is not like most newbie slaves I have known. This slave here is more like a slave who has had at least 2 or 3 full trial periods. So, I'm going to start treating it as such a slave. I'm elevating my expectations of you. If ever I get beyond what my slave is ready for, you need to find a way to tell me."
"Master, you mean like a safe word, Master?"
"No, I don't do safe words during real slave trials. That puts the slave in control, when the slave is not in control. You put yourself in my control. You trust me to take responsibility, and you won't need a safe word, ever. This doesn't mean that you have no limits. It means that as your Master I carry the limits and the responsibilities to not overstep those limits, and I have very reasonable limits. You will come to know my limits and be able to live more freely within them. In my experience, it is the slave, in its fantasies of slavery, that goes beyond reasonable limits, at least in imagination." He looked me in the eyes and rubbed the top of my head again. Then, he continued: "Just imagine living a life in which you don't have to concern yourself with limits and self care. It's all taken care of for you. You'll come to know and trust my limits, and that in turn will free you to fully trust me and what life brings. And thus, you will become a more fully satisfied, worry-free, devoted slave."
"Master, yes, Master. I think I understand, Master. At this point, Master, I'm more afraid of myself than I am of you, Master. Afraid of who I am and where it all will lead me, Master, and afraid of my own lack of self-control."
"Well, that's normal. And that's why you need to let me carry the limits and to honor them, for both of us. I'd be worried about you if you didn't have those feelings. This is all a part of what this trial period of slavery is all about."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
"You'll have a chance to speak with my other slaves in a few minutes. Doing so will give you a much better idea of what it means to be a slave here. It's good for slaves to discuss their slavery together."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
"So, let's get up and continue our `get acquainted' day."
"Master, yes, Master."
As we stood and began walking again, I couldn't help but feel satisfied that I was carrying Rob Carter's piss in my gut. My mouth still tasted of his piss, and I was enjoying being naked out in the open on this ranch.
Was this only my vacation, or was it leading to something more? It was sure feeling like more. Much more.