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Stories of the Slave Center The Nation's Largest Retailer of Faggots _______________________
A Trial Period of Enslavement Chapter 5: A New Understanding of Self
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.
Master Rob walked to the footpath which led into the wooded area, and I followed, hands obediently behind my slave back. We walked for only about 10 yards when we came, to my surprise, a swimming pool. It was a large pool, with plenty of patio area and even a wood deck nestled back in against the trees. It struck me as a little paradise, an oasis open to the blue sky above.
I noticed a couple naked slaves serving men drinks, another bound to a hitching post, and a few others playing in the pool, with their collars and restraints still on. And there were men lounging about, chatting, reading, sipping drinks, relaxing, enjoying. Some wore swimsuits and some were nude. The men, naked or clothed, stood out easily from the shaved and collared slaves. Everybody seemed to be having a good time, except perhaps for the slave bound by its snout ring to the hitching post.
I noticed a man come up to the slave at the hitching post. The slave was facing the pool in a kneeling position. The man put a bit into the slave's mouth, with the same type of tongue plate as the one I had worn earlier in the day. The man secured it tightly. Perhaps, very tightly. Then the man secured the slave's wrist restraints behind its back. Next, he clamped the slave's nipples. The slave winced noticeably. "There," said the man. Now, just watch the afternoon go by and think about why you are not joining in."
My Master noticed my attention on the slave at the hitching post. He waved it off, saying, "Sometimes a slave just needs a refresher course on who and what it is. It happens. The slave will soon get back to being the fine slave that it is."
Then, just as casually as he had explained away the slave at the hitching post, he gave me an order, "Slave, over there is a cooler with some drinks. Get me a beer."
"Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master."
I walked over and reached into the cooler for a beer (luckily, there was only one kind, so I didn't have to make a choice), walked back to my Master, knelt on a small rubber mat that just happened to be next to his chair, opened the beer and handed it to him. "Master, Your beer, Master, thank you, Master," I said as I offered him the bottle. He accepted it and explained, "Slave, over on that side of the pool, near the wood deck, there is a half barrel. You get your water there as needed. And, if it isn't clear to you, water is all my slaves drink, unless I specifically give them something different. So, don't let me catch you drinking anything anywhere except out of a slave trough."
"Master, yes, Master."
This is when I truly realized that his slaves do not get a beer or a soda or an iced tea, perhaps ever. Slaves went to the half barrel, got on their knees, and put their faces to the water to lap or suck it up. "And this is what I want?" I asked myself. But I knew the answer.
As I watched the slaves playing in the pool, I felt an urge to join them. Master noticed my interest and said, "Go on, slave. Have a good time. That's what we're here for."
"Master, thank you, Master." I nodded my head toward my Master, stood up and walked over to the pool. I noticed that some men and slaves looked my way, probably because I was new on the property. They didn't seem to care about the steel around my neck and elsewhere, or the big tail sticking out of my ass. They just seemed a little curious about the new slave on the grounds.
I thought about jumping into the pool and doing a cannonball, but I wasn't sure how that would go over with the men and slaves in and around the pool. So, I walked into the pool via the steps provided for that purpose. The water was warm, but not so much so that it didn't feel refreshing. When I got in deep enough such that my tail began to float, it soon began to get water-logged and sink. I merely noted the newness of the sensation and otherwise ignored it. The three slaves in the pool were all looking toward me now. They had pleasant expressions on their faces. One, whom I'd guess to be somewhere in his fifties, had giant nipples. I understood how that came to be. Another had large rings in his ears, septum, nipples and, as far as I could tell, for it was under water, his dick. The third, who was pretty young, perhaps still in his twenties, appeared to have neither tattoo nor piercing. He was bright-eyed and cheerful-looking, and he waved for me to come more to the middle of the pool and join them all.
During our introductions, I learned that the older slave has been in Master Rob Carter's service for over 20 years and that he had not left the ranch once in all that time. Bound to the land is what he was.
The young slave was actually the slave of one of Master Rob Carter's guests for the afternoon. His master had only recently bought him from The Slave Center in Phoenix. The third slave, the one with all the piercings and slave rings, also did not belong to my Master. This slave was owned by one of the men who work for my Master as an overseer. As such, he lives in the guest house on the ranch and, like my Master's slaves, is bound to the land as one aspect of the ranch property.
After the introductions, the youngest slave asked, "Have you been officially welcomed yet?" Not knowing what that meant, I answered, "No, I don't think so. I just got here this morning," I replied. "Well, maybe you will get your official welcome later this afternoon," the young slave responded.
I didn't know what he was talking about, and I didn't know what I could or should say. The slaves peppered me questions, and we all ended up learning a lot about each other, like where we are from, how we got here, and, more importantly to me, what it is like to really live here in total enslavement. They all spoke positively about their slave experiences and about the Master of the ranch, Rob Carter.
Through the water I could see that each slave had some type of metal ball stretcher on, but I didn't ask them about it.
After what must have been about 20 minutes of chatting, the older slave suddenly said to me, "Look, your Master is standing up. Go, slave, go." They nearly pushed me out of the pool.
I walked up to where Master stood, next to where he had been seated, found the same little rubber mat, and knelt before him. He lifted his arms a bit, which I took as a signal that he expected me to take his shirt off. As I began to do so, he said, "Seems like a good time to take a swim."
"Master, yes, Master."
As I began to undress Master, I noticed the pool emptied of slaves. This is how I discovered that slaves must exit the pool before Master Rob Carter entered it. Anyway, I was thrilled to be undressing him and getting my first full look of the Man.
I unbuttoned his shirt and totally removed it. He still had on his wife-beater undershirt, but I had my first view of his armpits. Master must have noticed my heightened excitement, so he said, "Go ahead, my slave," and he moved his hands up behind his head and raised his elbows, offering his pits to me.
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master!" I said with enthusiasm and stood up to bury my whole face deep into his right armpit. He allowed me to use my hands to help support his elbow being up so that I had clear access to his manly glory. And how glorious it was! Such a musk! So much hair. So much Man. So much Master! Then I dove into the left pit. I was in slave heaven. I sucked on those things, savoring every drop of moisture, coating my slave face with his pit smell. I caught a glimpse of the slaves I had just been chatting with, and they were watching me and smiling. I thought about what I looked like to them. I hadn't thought about it until then, but my cock was rock hard, and my tail was dripping wet from being in the pool. I didn't care. It all felt just so right.
"Enough, slave. Get my boots off."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
I am sure I managed the job adequately, but I am also sure I was a bit clumsy going about it. I had never removed anybody's cowboy boots before. When I had his socks off and felt tempted to worship his feet, Master said, "Off with my undershirt, slave, and then my pants."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
While feeling somewhat disappointed at not being able to smell his boots and feet, I felt elated at hearing Master refer to his pants. I stood and pulled his undershirt over his head. Then, I saw his chest for the first time and nearly wept. Such a beautiful thing, a nice hairy man chest with at least moderately defined pecs. I wanted to place my cheek into his chest hair, but instead I obediently got back on my knees, on the rubber mat, and began to undo his belt. I opened his pants and slid them down, and to my surprise, he wore no underwear. I took in the glory of the man and his scent. His cock and balls both hung pretty large and heavy. Such a beautiful thick cock. I'd guess it to be about 7 inches when hard. And all that man hair. Oh, lord, the hair! The glory of my Master's groin had me almost quivering, and Master knew it. "Good slave," he said. "Master, yes, Master. I'm a good slave," I softly replied as I yearned to serve His meat. I pulled His pants all the way down and off his legs. I then folded them and placed them on his chair.
"Stay on our knees, slave."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
"Look at me slave, all of me, all over, but don't touch. Look at the Man who can offer you your full enslavement. Worship in a quiet way. Your Master is allowing you to view his entire body. I can feel you're appreciation of what you see, my slave. Good slave. Now, when I turn around, stand up and kiss my shoulders and back, but keep my slave hands off of me."
"Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master."
He turned and revealed his strong and lightly hairy back, which I kissed lovingly. I scared myself with the power of my own feelings. They seemed to overwhelm me. I didn't like feeling too out of control. But maybe, I thought to myself, I can allow myself to be out-of-control as long as He takes the control, and the responsibility that naturally goes with it.
"Now, look at my ass, slave."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
I returned to my knees on the mat.
"Now kiss my ass cheeks, slave."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you so much, Master."
I happily and hungrily kissed his hairy butt cheeks.
"Next, when I say to kiss me, here is what I mean. You are going to spread my ass cheeks, and then bury your nose and tongue in there. Sniff and clean it, slave. That is where a slave kisses its Master. Right on the asshole. So kiss Me like you mean it, my slave."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you very much, Master." This time I put plenty of emphasis and gratitude into the way I said, "thank you" to my Master.
I spread his butt cheeks and entered faggot heaven, again. Ah, the smell! Oh, the taste! Such a glorious musk! I was made for this! He was pretty rank back there, and I was happy, so happy to be able to enjoy it, feeling lucky to be the one to press my face and tongue into his asshole, happy to clean it for him. I loved it. I savored it. I was a happy pig.
"Suck right on that asshole, slave. That's how you kiss me. And that's how I kiss you."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master," I gasped. My cock was hard and I suspected I was dripping, but I focused on my Master's orders, as his property, as his slave, for in doing so, I had never felt such joy.
"That's enough, slave. Now, relax around the pool for a while. Talk with your slave brothers. I'm going into the pool to talk with the Men."
Without waiting for my reply, Master walked away and jumped into the slave-free swimming pool. He did a few laps and then was joined by a couple other Men. They all seemed to be good friends.
The slaves I had met in the pool walked over to me. Now, I could clearly see that each wore a steel ball stretcher, about an inch wide. But the two older slaves also had varying numbers of smaller rings, maybe a quarter inch wide, below the larger ring. This time, I asked them about the stretchers.
"If you go beyond your trial period, Master will put one on you. That's His standard. Each new slave is fitted with a 1-inch wide and rather tight and heavy ball band. It's unremovable without some pretty serious tool work, so it is basically permanent. Then, after each year of service he adds another ring. So, you can see that this slave here... he counted the rings around the older slave's scrotum... has been enslaved to our Master for 21 years. The idea is that every year of productive enslavement gets the slave a new ball ring." The older slave's balls were stretched down several inches.
"Cool, I guess," I added. "At least Master doesn't castrate his slaves."
"Well, you haven't met the house slave yet."
"He's castrated?"
"That slave is a total nullo! Totally smooth! Nothing there!" "Master removed his cock and balls?"
"Don't look so shocked, slave. Master prefers to leave his slaves totally intact, like us. He says that's the natural way. He's not really into much body modification. He wants slaves as they naturally are, as they were born."
"So, we're safe!" chimed in the young slave.
"And you may have noticed that Master doesn't allow slaves in his house, except the nullo. Sometimes I wonder if being a nullo is a prerequisite for being in his house."
"Yeah," said the slave with the most ball rings, "I'm the only slave that was already here when slav nullo arrived, and I can tell you he was a nullo before arriving. Our Master did not make him a nullo."
"But, what do you think, would you like to be a nullo?"
"Me. Uh, wow. I don't know. I'm sort of scared by and attracted to the idea at the same time. I guess my sense of keeping my body as it was born seems the most natural and authentic thing to do. But I don't know."
"If you serve from the heart, then it doesn't matter if you have genitals or not. It doesn't matter if you get hard or not. You're just there to serve."
I heard what he said, and somehow it felt right.But I was still thinking about being a nullo, so I said, "And slave nullo is shaved down there?"
"Yeah, of course!" said the young slave. "It's absolutely smooth. it had permanent hair removal, and what I find amazing is that there is hardly even a scar where the goods used to be. It's all very smooth down there. It's kind of cool-looking, actually."
Then the older one went on: "Sometimes it seems like slave nullo is his wife. The slave lives in the house and does traditional wifely tasks, like cooking. nullo has sex with Master, too, at least that's what nullo tells us. Master brings him into bed and fucks his ass. He says Master likes to put his hands right over where his cock and balls used to be. He likes to hold there and to slap there while He's fucking him. And sometimes he grabs some of the skin there and pinches it while fucking him. nullo loves to get fucked, and now it's the only kind of sex he can experience."
Master came walking out of the pool but waved for me to continue with the other slaves. He laid down nude on his lounge chair and let himself air dry. I continued conversing with the slaves for about 10 more minutes, until I heard my Master say, "Slave!" I turned and saw he was holding up his empty beer bottle. "Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master!" I responded and retrieved him another beer.
After I handed it to him, he said, "Kneel, facing the pool, and stay."
I knelt on the mat next to his lounge chair. I was facing the pool and, from where I knelt, near his waist, I could not see his chest or face.
"Stay and be absolutely still and silent. I don't need your service right now, so erase yourself. If you're not serving me, you doesn't exist. So, stay still, and be nothing."
I was sort of stunned, I guess, but I said, "Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master." I remained there kneeling for what seemed about 20 minutes. I was grateful for the large patio umbrella overhead, though I was still sweating. I had my head bowed, and the Men and slaves at the pool in front of me seemed to know not to speak with me. I closed my eyes and kept them closed.
Somehow, kneeling there turned into a kind of mediation. I found myself literally trying to erase myself, to let myself disappear, to exude no energy or emotion anyone could pick up on, not even myself. The sentence, "I am nothing," began to repeat silently within my consciousness. "I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing." I breathed calmly and felt the peace of it all, and perhaps the truth it. "I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing but service. I am service. I am service. I only exist when I am serving. I am service. I am slave. I am service. I am slave. I am slave. I am service."
I lost track of time in my reverie of nothingness. I got lost in nothingness. I have no idea how long I knelt there. Then, I heard Master begin to stir on His lounge chair and in a moment say, "Slave." I opened my eyes, and before I could answer, "Yes, Master," I noted the following words flowing through my brain. "Servant being. Servant being. You are a servant being. You live as service only, as servant, as slave. That's what you are."
Holding the same kneeling position I had been in, I opened my eyes and said, "Master, yes, Master."
"Turn toward me, faggot," Master ordered softly.
I stayed on my knees and repositioned myself so that I could kneel facing him.
He stood up and looked at me. For the first time, my Master stood before me nude, with me on my knees and ready to serve Him. I noticed his eyes go from my knees to the top of my head, and then into my eyes. "What are you?"
"Master, your slave, Master."
"Good. Now, when I ask you again, just say the one word that tells me what you are. Don't say master' or your' or any other word. Just say the word that says what you are."
I took this information in. I noticed my own extreme calmness, and I liked it. Then He asked His question again: "What are you?"
"Slave," I answered.
"Good. Tell me again."
"Slave."
"Again."
"Slave."
"My next question is going to be: What is a slave for? But don't answer yet! I think you know the answer. I think you feel the truth of it. So, tell me, in one word, what is a slave?"
I may have paused briefly to wonder how Master could know that I know the answer he seeks, but, in short order, and in my newfound calm and peace, I answered with clarity, "Service."
"Tell me again."
"Service."
"One more time."
"Service."
"Tell me more about that."
"Master, your slave is service, and if it is not serving, it doesn't really exist. If Your slave is not serving, then it is to remain nothing at all, Master. Thank You, Master."
"Very good, my slave."
"Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master."
"Come here, slave." He indicated that I should bend forward. As I did, He put His hand behind my head and guided it to His Cock. I have to piss, slave. Serve me."
Before I could say a thing he had my mouth at the head of his dick. I took the head in, and He let go his piss. I took in the great elixir of Man and swallowed it all. Service. I am service, as He commands.
Could this be what my erotic fantasies are really all about?