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Becoming a Farm Slave -Part 4-
"Time to wake up, Pit," a voice said.
My mind felt groggy and my mouth felt asleep. I tried to move my jaw, but realized the ball gag was still in. I felt some tugging on my arms and realized the straightjacket had been removed at some point, along with the headphones.
"Gonna have a fun day, you and me."
I recognized the voice as Master Davis. The armbinder was removed then, and I realized they felt impossibly heavy and in pain. Being locked and twisted in the past twenty-four hours had rendered them susceptible to much muscle pain. A small pain in my ass reminded me of the inflated plug, especially after Master Davis tapped it with his hand.
Why was I calling him Master in my head?
He seemed to register the confused look on my face. "I suppose you're wondering about the brainwashing? Yeah, in case you weren't aware, that kind of hypnosis isn't as effective as one might believe. It's mostly a way to transform your subconscious—how you think, what you think about. It's not a magic `make-you-a-slave-overnight' kinda thing. You'll start thinking of me as Master, Josef as Trainer, and yourself and others as inferior—as slaves. It'll take repeated sessions to really takeover, and you'll still continue to resist at times, but you'll break eventually. They all do."
My eyes widened at the thought. I had subconsciously been thinking of him as Master Davis, not Mr. Davis. It was an easy mistake to make, I thought. The blindfold was removed and I could see him then: he was wearing a leather harness on his chest and leather chaps. A leather jock with spikes covered his erect cock. I couldn't help but stare at it, reminded of how thoroughly it had fucked me just yesterday.
"Yeah, I figured that's the first thing you'd check out, Pit. You dirty slave."
Stop calling me Pit! I wanted to scream. That wasn't my name. It was Chris. Yeah, sure, I'd fantasized before about becoming a 24/7 slave, but that was strictly an imagined reality, a daydream of horny proportion. I didn't actually consider being enslaved as a realistic option in my life.
"Josef is going to be working with the other slaves today, and I finished up the business side of things for the next week yesterday. I've got you all to myself for Saturday and Sunday. So, time to get you oriented in your new role, Pit."
With the head harness attached to the ceiling, the best I could do was rotate in place with my legs still in the spreader. My arms were no longer constricted by the binder, but they were still bound by the gloves. Master Davis produced a chain from somewhere and attached it to the ring on my leather mitts. He then attached the rather short chain to my collar. I had maybe a foot of slack between my hands and the collar, and it was highly uncomfortable. The best position for my hands was a bend at the wrists, much like a pleading puppy on two legs would look. It was a bit humiliating, walking around looking limp-wristed. I had a strong muscular build, and while I wasn't as big as Master Davis and Trainer Josef, I definitely felt diminished being reduced to this pleading puppy position.
"I love working on new slaves," Master Davis said, unhooking the spreader bar, allowing my feet to move freely. "Controlling you, transforming you, making you give in to your greatest fantasies and making them become a reality. Think about it, slave. The only one who knows what you really want—what you really need—is a dominant Master who understands your subservience. Deep down, you don't want to make decisions—and certainly not life-changing ones. What is work? A career? Friendships and a social life? What are they, really? They're nothing."
I was transfixed by his words. He used the same soothing voice that I was subjected to the previous night. It was calming, strong, confident, and charismatic. I felt enveloped by the comfort of his warm cadence and deep pitch.
"What IS worth something is being useful. Your body, that physicality, it can be put to work. And with your ability to write, to conjure words and create something easy to read, you can be even more useful. But that will come with time. For now, you can let go. You can obey. You can take comfort in having a strong, determined man make decisions for you. No longer do you have second guess yourself, or live paycheck to paycheck. No, you can live with me," he hugged me from behind, standing in the middle of the barn, "and you can enjoy this wonderful life." He kissed me on the neck then, right above the heavy collar. "This life can be yours, Pit. This life—it WILL be yours."
He then stepped in front of me and led me by the leash. It tugged me forward and we walked through the barn. We walked past Deke, strong and resolute in his stall, still sleeping. His cock was locked up again in its cage, the same one that had fucked me several times already. I was salivating at the mouth just staring at his perfect physique and, on some level, had the desire to have my cock locked up just like his.
For now, though, my cock stood at attention. The words from Master Davis and the bondage predicament kept me rock hard. I guess I still felt as though, once the weekend was over, this whole scenario would end and I would just go back to work. I began to wonder if I paid Master Davis for this: I'd never opted for one of those weekend sessions some Masters often offered on Recon or some other kink website. Did I accept some kind of weekend enslavement from him? Maybe that's all this was.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, however, I knew that wasn't true. I was just trying to justify this enslavement as temporary—that it was a fantasy that would end and I would go back to the city like none of this had ever happened. That I would resume skimming kinky online stories for BDSM, scrolling through Tumblr images of Master and slave situations, and being non-committal to offers of M/s on online dating apps.
"Don't get complacent on me, Pit," Master Davis said, tugging the leash harder. I nearly lost my footing, not realizing that I'd stopped moving to daydream. "We've got a full day ahead of us!" he said, a dazzling white smile on his face, with his short blond hair and thick, lightly-furred chest shining in the sunlight. I could melt just looking at him.
We passed Spike to my right, his dark skin glowing in the morning rays. Athletic and large, I wanted to nibble on his nips, kneel in front of him and take him whole. He was gorgeous and, after seeing Master Davis looking happy and hot, I was incredibly turned on.
We stepped out of the barn and the first thing Master Davis did was pull me over to one side. "Gotta clean you off, slave." He grabbed a hose, turned a nearby valve, and a torrent of water came pouring out. It was sometime mid-morning and in the middle of the summer, so it wasn't too cold out, but once the water hit me it felt like my body dropped a good ten degrees. My muscles shook with cold and he'd finished, putting the hose away.
He seemingly grabbed a towel from a small cupboard on the outside of the barn, and wrapped it around my body, drying me off. "Don't worry," Master Davis said, "you won't be too dry for long." He winked at me.
He picked up the leash and proceeded to bring me towards the house.
As we entered, Wolf immediately started barking at me. "Quiet!" Master Davis shouted, a pointed look at the mutt. "We got a new dog to add to the fold," he said. Wait, dog?
"Over here, Pit." The leash tugged me in the direction of a walk-in closet inside the kitchen. "Kneel." I obliged. There wasn't much else I could do in my condition, but obey the man leading me around.
"Good dog. You'll obey all my orders from here on out—not like you'd disobey anyway. You love serving a dominant man, don't you, boy?"
This was different then the slave training. He'd purposely avoided using `boy' or any terms of endearment before this. Was he just training me in different aspects of servitude? Would tomorrow be a different kind of training?
"You see, boy, I don't take house slaves. The farm slaves live in the stable, Josef and I stay in the house. But Josef and I have come to the realization that, with our farm growing in size, it's not sustainable to have to do everything around the house for much longer. So, we've come up with a plan. We have two positions opening: dog slave and house slave. Wolf here is getting old," I looked over at the large black Lab behind us, tail wagging and staring at me almost cruelly, "so, we need a new dog. And since you're so good at taking orders, I'm giving you an offer: dog slave or house slave. Chances are you won't be able to do both, since we are quite strict when it comes to the mindset of a particular slave. As a dog slave, you'd lose the ability to think for yourself over time and you'd just become an extension of a regular dog. Except the sexual part, of course. I'm not into bestiality, but if we transform a human into a dog, it's not illegal, now is it?"
I didn't think I wanted to be a dog slave. My entire livelihood revolved around writing articles about kink, not being the focus or subject of the kink. I enjoyed informing others about the sexual aspects of the different disciplines and the sadomasochism and bondage side of things. Would I really want to lose the ability to do that? To become a mindless dog?
"...OR," Master Davis interjected, "you can continue your work writing kink, but under my supervision. You'll be trained as a house slave and, when you're not cooking, cleaning, working out, sleeping, or performing sexually, you'll be chained to a desk and a chair with a computer and be writing. You'll write what I want you to write. Maybe not any of your journalistic stories, but instead you might be writing erotic fiction. Or maybe advertisements for our farm—we will need a new dog, after all. And I can have you take my spot as the one responding to requests from slaves—I won't have too much free time soon. You'll pretend to be me, act like me online, and persuade gullible slaves to come here so we can train them. It'll be great!"
I was only half-listening, as I noticed the throbbing emanating from his nether regions. He was getting turned on just talking about slaves. Dog slaves, house slaves, farm slaves, all of it. How many slaves could they even support? I only knew of three: Spike, Deke, and Pit—I mean, myself. But I was only temporary, just fulfilling this fetish fantasy for the weekend.
"Getting hungry, slave?" Master Davis asked, unbuttoning the covering on his cock. His large member swung outward and down, slightly swaying back and forth. That damn pendulum effect. It was mesmerizing.
He reached behind my head and unclasped the gag, letting it fall to the floor.
"Suck," he commanded.
I hungrily devoured his cock, slobbering all over that thick meat. To show him how good I was getting, I aimed to go deeper than yesterday without gagging. All that practice being put to good work.
"Good boy," he said. He placed a hand on the back of my head and forced my mouth up and down. "On the plus side, upgrading to the house means you get to be called `boy,' Pit. You're still lower than the farm slaves on the totem pole though. At least they provide physical perfection, manual labor, and have been trained to be used sexually. You, on the other hand, just need to maintain your current physique—I like to have the weaker slaves in the house." Weak? I was 175 lbs of lean muscle! "The stronger slaves sometimes give the appearance of physically threatening to guests that Josef and I have over." I wondered what kinds of guests he was talking about. "And while the guests usually enjoy the look of the farm slaves, they can be quite intimidating. Especially the older ones. No one wants to feel inferior when fucking a slave, which the farm slaves sometimes unknowingly do because of their perfection."
If I wasn't sucking Master Davis' amazing dick, I'd probably have made an annoyed face at that comment. I knew I wasn't the hottest guy on the planet, but I turned heads on the daily.
"You, however, are not threatening at all." He looked down into my heads, hand still controlling the pace of my bobbing. "Look at you. You've been here a day and already I've got you tied up, kneeling in front of me, naked, shaved, collared, and sucking my huge cock." I wanted to protest, but realized that he was telling the truth. Master Davis had completely broken down my defenses, letting me give in to my sexual fantasies, and controlled me through my own horniness. "Yeah, I know how to read faggots like you. Little slut boys who just want to be used. Who just want to be lead around by a real man. Who want to find some purpose in your meaningless existence. That's what I'm here for. I'm why you were born: so that you could meet me and service me for the rest of your pitiful life. I give you purpose, boy. You best remember that."
And with that, I could even feeling the strain of his cock as it reached climax. A few final slurps, some thrusts from Master Davis, and he held my mouth down on his cock as he shot spurt after spurt of cum down my throat. My nose met his pubes as he buried my face between his legs. "Good boy," he said, patting the back of my throat with his other hand.
After a few seconds, I began to choke. I couldn't draw in any air with his cock lodged in my throat.
He relented, letting me breathe after he was satisfied that I'd swallowed all of his cum.
"Regardless," he said, putting the leather jock back on, "all slaves eat the same way. So, start eating." He pointed to two bowls on the floor to my right. One was filled with water and the other was some kind of mush. "It's pretty much the same as the gruel from the trough in the stables, but with a bit of dog food mushed in."
I sniffed at it, recoiling at the smell. At least gruel was bland. The dog food just gave it a more abhorrent odor. "Boy, don't make me force you." He kicked the plug in my hole, causing a forced `yelp' out of me. "Eat."
I didn't even consider talking back to Master. With my paws tied up the way they were, I wouldn't be able to do much to resist him. I leaned forward a bit to get closer.
My stomach growled. Loudly.
"Sounds like you're starving, boy. Dig in."
It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how hungry I actually was. Master's cum didn't satiate me, and suddenly the dog food didn't seem too gross to me.
I took in a mouthful of the dog food.
It honestly wasn't as horrible as I'd imagined it would taste. The consistency was near baby food and gruel—there wasn't any chunks to chew, just some slightly harder balls of food than the rest. With the first mouthful, my body—and mind—became eager to chow down on the rest of it. I scarfed the whole bowl down within the span of a few minutes.
"Good boy," Master said, patting me on the head. "Go on, lick it clean."
I obeyed. I licked the bowl clean of all bits and pieces, feeling that painful pit in my stomach disappear and it finally got some sustenance in it.
"That's a good boy, Pit." Master scratched behind my ears as I finished it off. It felt good. "Now, drink up."
I quickly drink the bowl of water. Similar to the hunger, I didn't realize how thirsty I was after the `workouts' I received yesterday. My muscles were glad for both the protein and the hydration.
"Now, I'm feelin' a bit lazy and don't want to go to the bathroom, so here you go, Pit. Just for you." He pulled his cock out again. I instantly wanted to make him cum again. It was uncut and, when he peeled it back, I wanted to slobber my tongue all over it and make him hard again. I watched as piss shot out of his cock and began to fill the water dish I had just drank out of.
I understood what he wanted. I wasn't someone who was really into watersports. I once drank my own piss a few times on a dare with some buddies in college, and once while I was camming with a guy online. It was hot, sure, but in that "I can't believe I'm doing this" kind of way. To do this for Master Davis...to make it seem like an everyday, normal drink...
"Drink up, Pit. Whenever you see your bowls full, you can dig right in, provided you are on all fours and only use your mouth."
He made it seem like I should be grateful to drink piss. And what if it had been sitting there for half a day or more? Who drinks that?
"Get drinking, boy," he kicked my plug again. I noticed that my hard-on hadn't abated since we left the barn. Pre-cum was dripping all over the floor, a string of it connecting my cock to the hardwood flooring. "And lick up that pre-cum when you're done."
I sniffed at the piss, aware of its soft yellow color—clearly he hadn't drank enough water yet today—and decided I REALLY didn't want to drink it. Dog food was one thing—hell, I had been starving—but I'd already drank a ton of water.
"I see you need some encouragement." He placed a hand on the back of my head and forced my head into the bowl. "I don't have time for you to disobey orders, Pit." I sputtered as piss entered my nostrils, some of it swashing outside the bowl. "Drink." I didn't want to drown, so I started to just swallow as much of the urine as I could. It tasted bitter, an acrid, almost burning taste, so I took in small mouthfuls to try and limit the burning. "That's a good boy, keep going."
After a few minutes of swallowing, I licked up what remained in the bowl, feeling humiliated that he was forcing my head into the bowl. "Now, what fell out of the bowl." He guided my head around to bits of piss that had landed on the floor. It seemed like he had recently cleaned the floor because I only picked up a tiny bit of dirt or dust on my tongue. "And the pre-cum," he said, shuffling me backwards to get the pre-cum from the floor.
"Now," Master said, "I'm sure you have to piss too, don't you?"
Normally I have to piss like a racehorse in the morning, but I was so turned on that I hadn't noticed it too much today. "First, let's take care of Pit's little hard-on." My cock was noticeably smaller than Master Davis' and Trainer Josef's. Certainly by at least two inches, maybe three. Master's massive hand completely enclosed it in one go. He began stroking me off from behind. I could feel his hard-on pressing against the plug in my hole.
"Come on, boy, cum for me." It took no time at all, considering how horny I was. Within seconds, I shot my load all over the water bowl and partly on the wall. Master Davis continued stroking well-past my ejaculation. My cock went from pleasure to pain, the continued stroking eliciting no more cum. I began to moan, the pain taking over. I didn't dare say a word.
"Damn, I should've had you go that onto the food before you ate," Master said. "Oh well, clean it up."
I didn't hesitate as I did with the piss, and dove right in, cleaning up all of my cum and swallowing it.
"Good boy. Now, piss into your bowl."
Now that my erection was gone, the mounting urge to piss filled my bladder and cock. I shifted around on my knees to relieve myself. Master Davis made sure that the bowls were larger than a normal doggy bowl, so I was quite sure all of my piss would fit inside it. I wasn't quite sure how to kneel in order to make sure I hit the bowl.
"Lift up your back leg, like this," Master said, lifting my left hind leg slightly. "Try to aim as best you can. You won't get it right the first time, but you'll get used to it."
I tried as best as I could, and managed to get probably 85% of my urine in the bowl. Anything else that I missed Master Davis cleaned up with the towel. "Starting Monday, once you sign the contract—which you WILL do, by the way—any piss that misses the bowl you clean up yourself."
I looked down at the floor, ashamed that I'd missed the bowl.
"Now, drink your piss, Pit. Gotta have that bowl clean for when I fill it with water later. Or if Josef needs to piss."
What?
"If you hesitate once more, I'm gonna shove your face in it again."
I immediately went for the bowl and drank my piss. It had the same bitterness as Master Davis', but I knew what the taste was going to be like this time. It still took me a good few minutes, but eventually I lapped it all up and cleaned the bowl.
"Into position, boy. Up on your knees." I obeyed. "This is the Presenting position. You'll be getting used to that. Also, keep your eyes down. Slaves don't look their Masters directly in the eyes unless ordered to."
I looked down at the ground. Kneeling, paws in front of my collar—attached by a chain, my knees started to hurt a little.
"Good boy. Now that we've got that over with, you've got a decision to make. You want to be a dog slave or a house slave? You have sixty seconds to decide the rest of your life. So, mull it over, because it's the last decision you'll ever make."