Our own breeding slave
This story takes place in a society where slavery is common, and it involves consensual sex between young adult men. Feel free to try this at home if you happen to live in such a society.
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"May I have your attention for a moment," Father says as we are about to leave the breakfast table. "I have a surprise for you all. With four beautiful daughters who will soon reach a marriable age – Maria already by the end of this year," my eldest sister beams dutifully, "I have decided to buy a breeding slave just for private family use."
Gasps of delight from my sisters. Breeding slaves are expensive because fertile males are so extremely rare. Having one dedicated just for the four of them is an unbelievable luxury.
"In fact, our new slave has now arrived and is waiting in the Cloisters as we speak, so I suggest we shall go and inspect our latest acquisition."
With Mother on one arm and Maria on the other, Father leads us to the central courtyard that he pompously insists on calling `the Cloisters'. My other three older sisters and I follow dutifully, while house slaves hold open the doors as we process through the corridors.
"You know that, for me to get pregnant with you children, we had to hire breeding slaves for one night at a time," Mother says, "Having our own private breeder will make us so much more of a family ... Your future wife could use him too, Alexander, when you are old enough to marry."
That last bit was aimed at me. I have not dared to tell my family that I think that wives and marrying will never be particularly high on my list of priorities.
The new slave takes my breath away. He is beautiful, a delicate smooth face surrounded by riotous blond curls, his mouth slightly bends up at the corners in a cute permanent smile. He mostly keeps his gaze down respectfully, of course, but when he quickly glances up at us, I can see that his eyes are a gorgeous golden brown that makes me go weak at the knees.
"He has sired two baby boy-slaves at the farm already, so we can be certain that he is fertile. And he's only eighteen, so we'll get years of use out of him yet."
Eighteen, just two years older than me!
"He looks very nice. Nice enough to warm my old heart, in fact. I think you may have to get used to a little brother or sister soon," Mother jokes. Or at least I fervently hope that was a joke. Father seems to take it that way, chuckling as he snaps his fingers and gestures the slave to undress.
I tear my gaze away from his face and look at the body he reveals as he strips off his baggy tunic. A tall, lean, athletic frame, not overly muscular, but arms and shoulders broad enough to betray he's used to doing more work than just breeding. As he steps out of his shorts, a long fat cock and two heavy low-hanging balls swing free between his thighs.
God, what a sight!
I think with embarrassment of my own 2-incher and the two shriveled – raisin-like! – testicles that come with it. I have never had an erection, despite my regular efforts to encourage one. I know I shouldn't be ashamed; I know my penis is no different than Father's, or those of all other men in civilized society. My tutors have drummed it into me for as long as I can remember that infertility is a status symbol: `the beasts rut while the gentlemen rule'. A big, fertile phallus is supposed to be an object of shame, but when I see our breeding slave's package it doesn't feel that way. I desperately wish I had something like that to enjoy.
"What shall we call him?"
Slaves don't get names at the slave farm, of course. It is up to their new owners to name them, if they so wish. Our house slaves all have names, but the land slaves out on the estate just get a number for convenience.
"How about Bucephalus, after the horse of Alexander the Great," Maria suggests. "After all, he's hung like one."
Father smiles affectionately. "Very droll, Darling ... Well then, let's call him Buck the Phallus, or just Buck for short. Shall we go back inside?"
He turns back towards the Apartments, leading Mother by the arm.
"How much did he cost," she asks sotto voce.
"Only 30,000."
She looks at Father sharply. "What is wrong with him?"
"Nothing physical," Father replies quietly. "But he has been difficult to manage from a young age, tried to escape about a dozen times, almost succeeded thrice. I've made plans to deal ..."
Their voices die away as they walk up the grand stairs.
That night I steal from my room and creep up to the next floor. Buck is kept in a set of rooms in the west façade, outside the Family Apartments but close enough for convenient access. I don't yet know how I will explain my presence, but I have to see him. Touch him even, perhaps.
Please let there be an innocent-looking opportunity for me to touch him ...
You might think I don't need to explain my actions to a slave, but despite what some people think, slaves are not completely stupid and they do talk to each other. I don't want the whole household hot with gossip about me fancying a male slave ... or any male for that matter.
Without a sound I turn the door handle and slip into the room.
Oh, my word!
For a few moments I just stand there and watch, swallowing heavily at the sight. Well, I needn't have worried about explaining myself. Buck is lying on the bed, stark naked, spread-eagled. Leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles attach him firmly to the corners of the frame. A thick leather hood leaves him unable to see or speak.
So that is Father's plan to stop him from making an attempt to escape.
My eyes feast at the sight of his long limbs, stretched by the taut cables. I drink in his smooth flawless skin, an even tan showing that he went about unclothed at the slave farm. His giant manhood lies heavily across his left hip.
I can touch him! With him unable to see who I am, and unable to tell others about it, I can touch Buck freely and get away with it.
Apprehensively, I rest my hand on his abdomen. Buck flinches at the touch, unaware that there was anyone in the room with him, I suppose. My fingers trace his muscles, a proper six-pack, and he relaxes under the caresses. A trained sex-slave, he will be more than comfortable being touched up. My other hand runs along the inside of his thigh, slowly stroking him, enjoying his soft peach-like skin covered with a cover of blond hair so thin it is almost invisible. My index finger wiggles gently in his belly button causing him to tense up, hopefully from pleasure. For ages I sit on the bed, stroking his abs, stroking his pecs.
I've never touched a man before, at least not like this, even though I've dreamt about it for several years now. I love the sensation of his muscles moving under his lean skin, I love the sight of this flat stomach, his slender hips.
My left hand has travelled up his thigh and sits quietly in the nook between his leg and his heavy balls. I bend over him and take one of his nipples in my mouth, licking, sucking, biting down gently. His cock is beginning to react to my attention. His breath is whistling excitedly through the small hole in the leather hood. I take hold of his balls, so big, at least the size of duck's eggs, and slowly begin to knead. My tongue probes his belly button until his tool, straightening up as it fills with blood, touches my cheek.
Gasping, I sit up and watch in awe at his growing cock. I've never seen a hardon – well, not on a human at least – and it looks magnificent. Reverently, I take hold of it just below the head, surprised by the heavy throbbing of blood rushing in. It is so hard. And so big, well over a foot in length and too fat to wrap my fingers around. Drawn in irresistibly, I bend over it and touch the tip with my tongue. Salty with a slight tangy twist, a taste I could get addicted to, I am sure. Starting between his balls, I slowly run my tongue the length of Buck's monster, using the tip to probe the slit and the edge of his foreskin when I reach the end. Incredibly, I am rewarded by it growing harder and thicker still. With both hands I massage his shaft while I try to get my lips around his head. Too big! He is much too big to fit into my mouth. I go back to using my tongue and hands. He is bucking his hips in time to my strokes, desperate to get off.
Voices!
Jesus fucking Christ, there are people coming down the corridor!
Without a sound I get off the bed and hide behind the door. Only Buck's massive manhood standing throbbing above his belly betrays that anything happened here.
Eyes closed and trying to control my ragged breathing, I listen how the voices pass us and disappear towards the south building. False alarm but the mood has gone. What if one of my sisters were to desire a second look and come in here, or – heaven forbid – Mother ... I slip from the room and sneak back to my own suite. Better to wait and see how things develop.
It is a week and a half before I dare to move again. I've kept a close eye on what is moving in the night. My sisters have been well behaved, waiting to make use of our new breeding slave until after they are married. Mother was obviously joking when she suggested she might get herself pregnant again. Buck has not had any attention in the intervening nights, and I cannot wait any longer to touch his body again.
Back on his bed, I stroke and lick and rub, knowing what will get him hard and soon I am rewarded by a generous foot of rock-hard throbbing meat. I lick him from base to tip, suck on his balls and probe the slit, but it is no longer enough. I want him inside me, and if he won't fit into my mouth, it will have to go elsewhere inside my body.
I've been practicing every night since that my first visit. Fingers initially, then bananas greased up with hand cream. Yesterday I sneaked a cucumber from the kitchens, the biggest that I could find and even that one was still not as fat as Buck's cock. The cucumber had been a painfully tight fit and I could only insert half of its length before it became too sore to continue. An ominous sign, I know, and I doubt I'll be able to take much but I am hopeful that I'll be able to accommodate at least some of our slave's big manhood.
I straddle Buck's body, gripping his cock, slathered thick in hand cream. Does he know what I am planning? He is lying perfectly still in anticipation. Carefully I lower myself until his head is pushing between my ass cheeks. Pushing down, I allow it to start opening my ring, stretching me wide. I want this, I want this so badly. His hard cock – even the shaft is fatter than the cucumber let alone the big head – is extending my sphincter. Too big! Again, he is too big and it hurts too much to force it in. I keep up the pressure, trying desperately to relax my ring and slowly convince my ass to give in to the invader. I need to feel him inside me. But the giant cock won't fit, too big for me to allow him inside me.
Suddenly Buck thrusts up hard, driving the head and several inches of shaft past my ring and deep into my gut. Only the fear of getting caught stops me from screaming. Fighting the desire to pull off the huge invader and ease the searing pain, I sit still and relish the thought that I have this gorgeous slave – this man – inside me. It is not enough for the animal underneath me, though. Probably following a primal instinct innate to a breeding slave, he begins to fuck me, bucking his hips. Several inches of his fat tool move through my gut, rubbing my prostrate and adding a feeling to euphoria to the agony of the penetration. God, he feels so huge inside me, so good inside me, so natural. Despite it all, the pain, the massive head pounding me, the stretch of my ring, I lower myself further, allowing Buck to thrust in deeper. I have no idea how much of him is inside me now, but it isn't enough. I sit deeper still and something changes, Buck pushes through some barrier, space opens up and he rams in hard again and again while I keep lowering myself until his hips bounce off my backside.
Every inch! Every inch of that monster rammed up my bowels. The head feels like a massive ball of fire deep inside my belly, stretching my gut every time it is driven into me.
I begin to rock, back and forth, meeting Buck's thrusts. My movements become longer, faster, meeting that colossal invader ever harder. When I slide up and down the entire length of his shaft, I know that life will never be the same again, that this is what I will be lusting for during the rest of my life. The long fucking motions of that generous foot of hard slave cock are almost too painful to endure, but also too arousing to abandon. The violent thrusts get too much for Buck and I feel his seed filling my bowels, a lake of hot slave cum gathering deep inside me. I lower myself onto his torso, trying to keep his waning cock inside me for as long as possible, waiting for my panting breath to return to normal.
When I finally let him slip from me, fitting more comfortably now, I promise quietly that I will be back tomorrow.
I have visited Buck at least a dozen times over the past month, and each time is still as exhilarating as the first. I would have gone more often – I would never leave his room if it was up to me – but I must remain careful to avoid being found out.
As my backside has grown accustomed to the girth of his cock, the pain has become considerably less, although I wouldn't say it is completely comfortable yet. Not that that matters, because the discomfort is easily outclassed by the glorious feeling of 14 inches of solid slave meat – I took a tape measure the second time – being driven into me at full force.
I am sitting on his lap, the length of his manhood – or is that `slavehood'? – deep in my backside, but he isn't cooperating. He is shaking his hooded head, lifting if off the mattress, turning it left and right. Most importantly, he isn't thrusting his loins, not pumping my ass with his monster.
It is infuriating when a slave doesn't work, doesn't comply with his Masters' wishes. It happens rarely because the repercussions are severe, but in a way I am powerless and at his mercy here. I can hardly complain that Buck is refusing to breed me, can I?
Suddenly I realize what he wants. Do I dare? I have wished to see his face again from day 1, but do I want him to see me? If it is what I need to do to get him to fuck me, though ...
I lean forward and undo the straps on the back of the hood, gently pulling it away. His wild blond curls appear first, followed by his beautiful warm eyes and finally a beaming smile. Mesmerized, I can only stare at him. Close up he's even more gorgeous than I remember.
"Hi," he says finally. "I was convinced it was you, knew it from the energy between us when you came down with the family to inspect me."
His hips are pulsing gently, rhythmically, teasing my ass with his hard-on.
"Hi," I reply dumbly.
I realize that he is looking directly at me, almost challengingly, unlike any slave I've ever encountered.
"What's your name?"
A direct question, outrageously. No slave has ever dared to ask me a question, certainly not without invitation.
"Alexander ... or Alex ..."
I want to talk to him, but my mind has gone blank. Staring at him speechlessly, drinking in his beautiful face, his golden eyes. I am swaying against his movements now, enjoying the slow comfortable pumping of about 4 or 5 inches of meat through my belly. He's smiling invitingly, expectingly, waiting for me to take control.
"Do you mind ... that I ... you know ..." I gesture to his manhood in my backside.
His smile seems to split all the way to his ears, and he laughs like a light peal of bells. "It's what I'm on this earth for," he replies, candidly. "But since you're a gorgeous young man, there is nobody I'd rather make love to, even if it weren't my duty."
I lean forward, hold his face and press my lips over his. Buck opens up eagerly and accepts my invading tongue. As we kiss, his thrusts slowly get longer and faster and I meet every one – two bodies moving in an increasingly fast rhythm, until the length of his cock slams into me again and again. After an age, I have to break our kiss to brace against the force of his lunging, my gut screaming at the power of the assault.
"Oh, yes, that's what I need," I whisper, "give it to me, breeder. Prove yourself."
He does prove himself with dozen violent thrusts that knock the air from my lungs. His egg-sized balls start to empty themselves inside me, his hot juice seems to scorch my gut. I collapse on his broad chest, and he bends his face towards me, reengaging my lips.
"I love you, Buck," I tell him when his tenderness has restored my strength, "but I have to go back to my own room now."
"Can't you stay longer? Just lie with me, so that I can feel your body against me?"
I shake my head regretfully and take the leather hood.
"I'll be back soon," I assure him as I cover up his face.
I'm unable to shake the vision of Buck's gorgeous features. He is without doubt the most beautiful, loving, and virile man I have ever met.
That in itself is a shocking realization for someone who's only ever known slaves to be of inferior character and talent. I've always been taught that house slaves serve, land slaves dig, mow or herd, breeding slaves fuck and that's what they are good at. In all other aspects they are supposed to be inadequate and backward.
In the past weeks I've spent more and more time with Buck, much of it not directly engaged in sex. Three or four times a week, I sneak into his room and remove the hood. We fuck, sometimes violently and fast, sometimes slow and tender, and afterwards I lie against his strong manly body, and then we talk.
He's told me about his life on the slave farm, the system of separating babies from their mothers at birth so that every child slave is a lonely anonymous part of the herd, about the hard work on the land he'd done since he could walk. How his salvation came when he was found to be fertile at 10 and was selected as a future breeding slave; afterwards he was still expected to work hard, but the worst tasks were replaced by hormone injections and exercises to improve his sexual prowess. He's only two years older than me, but he seems to have lived twice as much.
"Will you release my arms, Alex, and my legs?" Buck asks. I have been snuggled up against him, while my ass recovers from a violent attack. "Just for the night, so that I can hold you against me."
It is a question that surprises me, because I almost forgot that Buck's a slave, that he is tied to the bed while we are making love together. I want to, but he is a slave, and the restraints are there for a reason.
"Please ... Let me wrap my arms around you."
His pleading brown eyes are impossible to refuse, and I cautiously remove the straps from his limbs. As promised, he folds his strong arms around my waist and pulls me on top of him until our mouths meet. Increasingly Buck is taking the initiative when we are together, against all morals about Master-Slave relationships. But fuck the rules because what we have is so much more than that.
His fat cock, flaccid for once, lies between our bellies, where it gently pulsates like a beast that could wake and pounce at any moment; it genuinely is a beast. Now that his hands are free to roam, he takes full advantage, stroking my skin, cupping my bum, squeezing my waist as he pulls me so hard against his chest that I have trouble breathing. He's stimulating me in so many ways; I should have released him much sooner.
"Do you want me to make your go insane with arousal?"
"You've been doing that for weeks ..."
He smiles and kisses me briefly. "What we've done so far, that is just entry level stuff ... Do you want me to pull out all the stops? mind that you will not be the same person afterwards!"
My mouth has gone so dry that I can only nod.
"To be sold as a breeder on the private customers' market, a slave needs to prove he is able to ejaculate 3 times inside one hour," he whispers, "that test is usually done on the slave's 18th birthday."
He is stroking my hair, my head lying on his broad chest. Over the past 15 minutes or so, I felt his tool swell back to its full majestic size.
"I took the test when I was 15 and managed 5 full ejaculations in 57 minutes, over two and a half fluid ounces of prime quality sperm. Probably because I was fertile from a very young age and therefore joined the breeder training program younger than any other slave."
"Is that why you are hung like that?"
Buck chuckles, "probably, the supplementary hormone program is all about improving sperm volume and quality, but perhaps it helps penile growth too, especially if you're only ten when they begin injecting."
"In that case I'm happy they started you so young."
He kisses my forehead. "I'm glad to hear it, because I think it is time for you get reminder how it feels to be bred big. How long since we had sex, do you think?"
"An hour, an hour and a half, perhaps"
"Then I should have built up a couple of ounces for jizz to get rid of..."
He gently rolls me off his chest until I am lying on my left side with Buck spooning me from behind, his rock-hard cock against my back. His left arm is wrapped underneath me and around my chest.
"Let me take this, baby. Relax and enjoy."
His big monster cock pushes between my arse cheeks and pops easily into my loose chute. I close my eyes and let him take charge. For the first time in our relationship, I let Buck fuck me, rather than me impaling myself on his engorged tool. Once fully inside me, our breeding slave – my lover – is surprisingly gentle, slowly and tenderly rocking, so his massive meat smoothly stimulates my gut with a quiet intensity I could not have imagined.
"We had to do exercises to improve our stamina," Buck whispers from directly behind me, "to postpone ejaculation until the client has been satisfied. When I am about to finish I will have you screaming for release ..."
He goes on to prove his prowess as he keeps me on the edge for the best part of an hour. His manhood leisurely, metronomically, drives deep into my belly, stretching and rubbing my bowels, non-stop stimulating my senses. Nice to start with, great as it went on, then fantastic until it becomes mind-blowing turning to excruciating when my gut can't possibly stand it anymore.
"Not so loud, baby," he says quietly, and I realize that I am moaning, moaning noisily.
"Please finish," I beg, "I can't take more."
"Yes, you can, baby. You can take a lot more than this."
His thrusts keep coming, long, gentle, and impossibly deep inside me. I am panting to prevent me starting to groan again. Powerless in the hands of this sexual pro, I repeatedly beg him to speed up, shoot his load and end my suffering, but my pleas are futile. Then, just as I think I might lose my mind, when I genuinely cannot suffer his attentions any longer, he starts to power up, letting rip with harder, faster thrusts, his hips slapping against my cheeks.
Barely interrupting his rhythm, he turns me onto all fours and, having positioned himself between my legs, he fucks me like a dog covering his bitch. Two minutes, three minutes to reach his full violent force, five minutes of unadulterated animalistic power before he begins to fill me up. I don't know how long he keeps going, how many shots he releases into my gut, but when he finally collapses onto my back, my belly feels like it might burst with cum.
We lie like that for five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, breathless and sweaty, his flaccid cock still buried in my rectum. I stir ... I should leave. How long have I been here now? I roll him off me, but Buck puts his arms around me and pulls me against his chest.
"Relax, baby, let's enjoy each other's touch for a little longer."
I let him hold me, subconsciously conceding that Buck is in charge now, the slave becoming the master, the owner becoming the sex toy. I relax in submission and exhaustion washes over me.
I am shaken awake, bewildered and disoriented.
"I'm sorry, baby"
His voice reminds me where I am and with whom. It doesn't explain why I am spread-eagled and on my back.
"I've got to go."
As the fog lifts, I realize Buck has shackled me to the bed with the leather cuffs that used to hold him. The tight hood stops me speaking and leaves me blind. I recognize what is going on, what he is planning to do.
"I wish I didn't have to, Alex-Baby, but I may never get another chance to become a free man."
He strokes my abs, my thigh.
"I hope they won't punish you too much when they find you tomorrow morning."
"I'll come with you," I scream silently into the hood, "I will join you for the rest of our lives. I don't care about my position, where we will live or how. I only want us to be together, make love every day, twice a day ... all day!"
He gently takes my small cock in his hand and stimulates me until, for the first time of my life, I have the amazing sensation of blood filling my manhood.
"That's my boy. Next time you try to have a wank, think of me."
He kisses the leather hood.
"I've got to go, baby. I wish it were different."
Please, Sir, take me with you ...
THE END