Part 8 ======
By TopLegal
WARNING This contains graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse
and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this
offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or
you are not of legal age, do not read it. Any resemblance of
characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental.
(c) 2003, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via
Usenet and the Web provided that the following two conditions are
met: there is no cost to access this story, e.g. AdultCheck, pay
site, etc., and the story is posted in full without modifications.
Iroppoi Tokyo -------------
Clearing customs was a snap and just past customs was a sign
written in the katakana with "Koade" and "Uebusuteru" written on
it.
The young Japanese man carrying the sign led us to a waiting
limousine and then disappeared. Inside the car was a note, also in
Japanese, instructing us to "furumau," meaning loosely to behave.
Despite my training, my bladder was on the verge of exploding when
we arrived at the mid-rise building on the outskirts of Tokyo. The
limo let us out in front of the building and we entered the club.
Much like our US club, the door led to an ornamental area with
minimal seating and a single receptionist.
We were rapidly directed by a Japanese man who did not introduce
himself towards a hidden passage and then down into a basement
holding cell.
There, I stripped naked and relieved myself on the toilet in the
corner of the cell and lay down on the floor mat. Again,
Webster-san was restless, but ultimately curled up next to me and
fell asleep.
The Interview -------------
In the morning Webster-san was guided out of the room first by a
young white male. I was left alone for quite some time before I
was fetched. Two young, naked Japanese males fetched me. Both bore
tattoos that indicated their slavery and employment by the
Iroppoi.
The smaller of the two grabbed my testicles roughly and yanked on
them to guide me while the larger one cupped my neck from behind
and pushed me along.
Naked, I was marched by my balls to the elevator. Neither boy
spoke to me as we waited for the elevator to come. They placed me
in the center of the elevator and ordered me to "stay" and then
stepped out of the elevator car and walked away.
A few minutes passed before the doors closed and another few
passed before the elevator moved. I was being subtly tested. A
small movement when I had been ordered to stay would be a strike
against me.
I wanted ever so badly to please the Iroppoi and become a fulltime
slave. So I stood obediently. The elevator experience lasted over
an hour with the elevator car apparently randomly moving up and
down through the building and the doors opening and closing as
well.
Finally, the doors opened to the two Japanese slave boys again who
stepped into the car and again forced me out by pulling on my
balls and pushing on my neck. I knew better than to speak.
They guided me to a dark, windowless room lit only with black
lights. A column of light radiated from the center of the room and
they positioned me inside it and again ordered me to stay. They
then left.
Almost instantly, the room began to get colder. Naked, my nipples
responded immediately and then I started to shiver. A fully
clothed, middle-aged, Japanese man entered the room and approached
me.
"Koade-san," he said in Japanese, "welcome to Japan, three simple
rules for your time with me. First, if you hesitate you will be
punished. Second, if you lie you will be punished. Third, if you
speak English you will be punished. Understood?"
"Hai," I responded enthusiastically and without hesitation.
"Good," he said, switching to English as he began to stroke my
cock. "This interview is behavioral. We will verify that you have
the correct attitudes to work as a fulltime slave."
I nodded and allowed my dick to stiffen to full erection.
The interrogator began to fire questions at me in both English and
Japanese at such a rapid pace that I could barely get out a simple
"Hai" or "Iie" before he was half-way through the next question.
Several times, my answers displeased him and I would receive an
enormous jolting pain through my entire body that was
indescribable and almost impossible to tolerate.
"Koade-san," he shouted as my body was writhing in pain for
answering yes to a question about whether I liked one type of
music over another, "focus. A slave does not like anything for
himself. Only what his master likes."
I nodded submissively and felt an inner revulsion that I had
failed to appreciate such a simple fact. The interrogation had
been going on for at least four hours and the room was so frigid
that I could see my interrogator's breathe in the stark lighting of
the room. His hands had never left my cockshaft and I knew better
than to orgasm.
"Now, Koade-san, do you prefer steak or lobster?"
"Iie," I responded, I was a slave, I had no preferences.
"Very good," my interrogator said, "I think that will do for
today, I know your free self absolutely hates cottage cheese. I
have had some prepared with fruits for your only meal today. You
will eat every bite when the attendants bring it in."
I nodded meekly, he was right, what was left of my shredded
independence was like a cartoon character on my shoulder gagging.
But I was a good slave boy and I would eat the cottage cheese.
Webester-san's Passage ----------------------
The interrogator departed and the two slaves returned. One was
pushing a delicate cart with a domed platter. My cock had softened
without the interrogator's attentions and I was freezing from the
temperature of the room.
The smaller slave handed me a large wooden spoon and then lifted
the dome off the platter to reveal an oversized portion of cottage
cheese with fruit. Hungry, I dove into it with abandon and ate
every bite.
Then they led me out of the room by my testicles and neck. In the
hall, I was glad to be out of the cold room and I was brought back
to my cell directly.
Webster-san was there, slumped over naked in a corner of the room.
I instinctively went to him to comfort him and found he was
delirious and unable to talk clearly. On his legs, bite marks were
visible. I pulled him close to me tenderly and held his sweaty
body through the night.
In the morning, my interrogator showed up at our cell with
surgical cart. Webster-san was still delirious. "Koade-san," he
said, "life or death?"
"Life," I said. The interrogator plunged the anti-toxin into
Webster-san's arm and the two slaves carried him from the room.
"We find that a brief experience with what will happen if they
ever cross the club helps the tops color within the lines."
I nodded meekly.
"Let us see to the rest of your initiation, I think we left off in
the middle of your interrogation."
After close to ten hours yesterday, I could hardly fathom what
could be left. But my momentary distraction earned me a backhand
that knocked me off my feet.
"Pay attention slave," he barked at me.
I got to my feet quickly and followed a step behind to the
elevator and back to the cold interrogation room.
Today the room was unbearably hot. A dry, sauna like heat smacked
me in the face as I entered. It did not seem to faze my
interrogator in the slightest. Today the room was lit in the
infrareds and I was under a heat lamp.
The interrogator's trained hands immediately went to my cock and
the questions began rapid fire. The first batch centered on
whether I truly enjoyed giving oral sex. Two hundred unbelievably
detailed questions on that subject alone. "Do you like the taste
of cum?" "Do you like licking balls?" "What is the best way using
only your tongue to keep a man on the verge of orgasm during oral
sex?"
I got three wrong and was punished again with even more intense
jolts of pain than the previous day.
The interrogation then turned to anal sex. Four hundred questions
later, I had managed to only get one wrong and was feeling proud
of myself.
Then the questions began to focus on my electives. Bondage.
Bondage escape. Struggling. Latex. Humiliation. Exhibitionism. I
lost track of the questions and became one with the interrogation.
When the interrogation ended it was with a simple, "that will do
Koade-san, tomorrow the tests begin."
I was not given any food, but simply led back to my now empty
cell. Webster-san was on a flight back to the states.
Latex -----
In the morning, a twenty-something white male entered my cell.
"I'm Mike," he said, "follow me."
I did, we arrived at a small lab room. He inserted an enema tube
in my ass and began filling me up.
"I'm the latex expert worldwide for Iroppoi," Mike explained as
the warm water filled my ass. "We will be cleaning you out and
then testing you out under water."
He pointed to the tank in the room. Mike removed the enema hose
and sat me down on the toilet to expel. The enema process was
repeated three more times until I was thoroughly emptied and then
I was allowed to piss.
"The water is about fifty degrees Fahrenheit," Mike explained, "so
this test will be particularly challenging. It involves bondage,
latex, breathe control, body temperature control and more. If you
pass you will move to the next set of ordeals."
A double-layered, thick latex suit would be my only barrier
against the cold waters. Mike pressed a button and a metal cross
with restraints rose from the tub. The suit came in two pieces.
The first piece for everything below the head and the second piece
for my head.
Mike was impressed by how quickly I got into the suit and helped
seal the head-body barrier. Blind and only able to breathe through
my nose, Mike guided me onto the frigid metal cross and fastened
me to it with cold metal cuffs.
I began to focus on keeping my body temperature up as he fitted a
breather to my nose. The air in the breather was warm. A small
concession to human frailty.
The platform was quickly submerged in the water and through the
latex, my prostrate body was soon cold. I focused to stay warm and
relaxed in this predicament and then I noticed that the air supply
was being reduced.
I focused myself into a meditative state.
Twenty-four hours later the water temperature began to rise and I
felt the air intake increasing. Our hypnotically induced time
tracking capabilities were impressive I thought as I felt the
platform moving.
Out of the water, I was still blind from the hood. I made no
efforts to free myself. The breather was removed and then the
hood.
Mike was beaming, "my god Koade-san you just beat all of the
records by a mile. Your interrogator finally ordered the test
ended."
I modestly bowed slightly.
Exhausted from the ordeal, Mike was kind enough to help me from
the suit and he then provided me with a sushi dinner and plenty of
water.
"Koade-san," he whispered in my ear as I finished up, "good luck
with the final test, I know you can make it."
Mike kissed me on the ear and departed.
My interrogator entered moments later. "Come slave," he ordered. I
followed him to the elevator that took us down to a waiting car.
Barefoot and naked, I was guided into the trunk. I forced myself
to meditate and ignored the bumps and temperature extremes of my
ride.
The trunk opened inside the center of a prison facility. My
interrogator helped me out of the trunk and led me into a steel
cage about a meter on each edge.
"Be back in one-week," he said, "if you take any food or water
from the prisoners you will spend the rest of your life in this
prison."
He got into the car and drove off.
Prison ------
Shortly after the car left, the prison area came to life. About a
dozen, naked men and an equal number of naked women came from the
shadows.
I realized at that moment that they were all failed slaves. They
disgusted me. They had not had the fortitude to stick with the
Iroppoi training. I gave no thought to the barbarism of life in
prison for failing as a slave in what was supposed to be a
voluntary endeavor.
A grizzled older man approached my cage. Speaking in Japanese he
mocked me and appealed to my "free" self to rid myself of the
Iroppoi programming. I ignored him and curled up in the cage.
By the sixth day, my thirst and hunger were getting to me. That
and the relentless chatter from the prisoners about how awful life
as a slave was and to free myself.
I managed to ignore them and make it to day seven. When my
interrogator picked me up he coarsely threw me into the trunk like
a bundle of goods.
Back at the Iroppoi, I was given a chance to wash up and fed
another sushi dinner with lots of water.
Patrick Coady is Dead ---------------------
In the morning, the now familiar two Japanese slaves guided me to
the interrogation room. This day the room was temperate and the
lighting normal.
My interrogator entered and ordered me to freeze. He put a device
on my shoulder and removed my "Patrick" tattoo. The removal was
painful.
"Time to pick your slave name," he commented, "most slaves pick a
character name from a movie, you may speak English if you want."
I racked my brain, then I thought of the Mission Impossible
character, disavowed and all that, and said, "Ethan Hunt."
"Very good," the interrogator said, and applied a new tattoo. "We
will alter your fingerprints and DNA as well and then send you
home."
He walked out and the room went dark. I then blacked out.
I woke up back in my bed in the states with Lane Tanaka standing
over me.
"Hunt-san," he said, "wake up."
Groggy, I slowly propped myself up on my elbows. Tanaka-san handed
me three pills and some water and I took the pills without
question.
"How are you feeling Hunt-san?"
I took a moment to do a mental inventory. "Ok."
"Good, we want to start your five years of service Thursday,
September 11."
I nodded, "what day is it?"
"Saturday, September 6."
I had been out of it for some time. I got out of bed and went to
the bathroom. I was surprised to find Tom Cruise's face on my body
staring me back in the mirror. Not only had the club altered my
identity, it had matched my face to that of the actor.
Patrick Coady was dead.
Slave's Life ------------
Lane walked me through the pills, pink for mind control, three
times a day, every day. Orange for DNA anti-rejection, every
morning through October. Blue for a special muscle growth
compound, every day.
"Many new slaves like to get slave written down their backs in
Japanese as a tattoo," Lane commented. I nodded in agreement and
rolled onto my stomach. "This is a temporary tattoo that will last
about six months and then disappear."
"How did Reza do?"
"Naiyeer-san is no longer attached to this club," Lane responded,
"he is fine and that is all you need to know." I almost asked
another question but realized it would only result in my
punishment. Lane added, "Webster-san has also moved back to Saudi
Arabia."
I nodded.
"Since you are scheduled with Thompson-san, I am going to move him
in here," Lane explained. "Also, we will be regulating your meals
more closely now Hunt-san." I nodded.
"More closely," was euphemistic. Every calorie I ate except on
escort duty or while outside the residence was now going to be
tightly controlled and decided by the dietary planners of Iroppoi.
Any pretense of choice was gone.
I heard the front door open and knew that it was Thompson-san
moving in. "Hey, roomie," he called out.
"Hey Will," I replied.
He entered my room, mounted me and fucked me and then stood up and
walked out. I did not find anything odd about that and just lay
there for a bit to absorb all of the changes.
Write the Author ----------------
These stories are e-mail'ware, show your appreciation by dropping
some feedback (in English) to the author at toplegal@mac.com.
See other works by me at http://www.asstr.org/~TopLegal/
$$