Once again, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. The narrative that follows did not happen to me or to anyone else by me. Don't contact Me to meet this slave. DO contact Me if you want to become this slave. Also contact me with any praise, criticism, or suggestions. All feedback is good.
Satanic Slave - Part 3
A quick glance at my watch gave me 6:25. OK. Five fucking minutes to decide how I'm going to spend the rest of my goddamn life. No pressure. Yeah.
How the fuck does someone decide to leave behind everything they've ever known and wanted? I had a decent white-collar job, decent income, some friends. Nothing wrong with my life. I wasn't suicidal, miserable, or even all that unhappy. I had relationships in the past, but nothing lasting....
Bingo.
Nothing lasting. Nothing ever "kept". Everything just felt so light and superficial; nothing, nobody, ever got to the core of who or what I was. Until now. All the rest had been play, just going by society's rules, getting all the things society said I should be wanting. And nothing fucking clicked.
Until now.
Suddenly everything clicked into place, like a combination into the safe of my soul. I was offered what some folks would consider hell, but to me it was as if I finally found the place where I belonged. Belonging to the dicks of Men I'd never know or even get to look at in the eye.
This was fucking fulfillment. Finally. A life that made sense. Where I knew my fucking place. Where I could be doing what I wanted ... hell, needed ... and not give a fuck what society thought. Where I could be who I was inside. True to my cocksucking self.
A huge shiver went up my spine. Not of fear, but of revelation. There was no choice. I wanted no choice. It was now 6:30 and time to be who I really was.
I got up and sprinted to the van. The back door was ajar and everything was just as he described. I sat on the floor of the van and stripped my old life behind, dropping it neatly on the curb. I was sobbing tears of joy. Seriously. It was like a religious experience, putting on those headphones -- silent for now -- and crawling into the cocoon of an itchy burlap sack. I pulled the drawstring into the sack with me and tightened my enclosure. I put on the blindfold and cuffed my left wrist.
And then a gulp, a sob, of an existence left behind and a life about to begin. I kissed the handcuffs before pulling my arms behind my back and locking myself into place.
Shortly thereafter the engine turned on and my head filled with sounds. The sounds of men getting off. Grunts, moans, sighs coming into my head from all directions. It took a little while to realize just what I was listening to. These were all men getting fucked or sucking cock and in goddamn euphoria from the experience. An orgy of men grateful for being used. I don't think my prick had ever been harder than it was just then, listening to this celebration of submission.
But there was more. Underneath all these groans of pleasure, a constant steady voice. So soft that I actually had to make myself hear it. His voice was deep, dark, sexual, predatory. Seductive.
"This is what a faggot was born to do. This is why a faggot lives and breathes. This is all a faggot is good for. This is all a faggot wants."
Over and over and over again. That deep, dark, seductive voice. Telling me what I was and all I was ever going to be. A cocksucking faggot. I practically shot my load into the burlap. Actually, to be honest, I did shoot, but mentally instead of physically. Over and over and over again.
This ride continued for a long time. At least it seemed like it; I had no way to tell. There were different types of roads. Smooth highways, rough roads. After awhile the men in my head all quieted down. Except for Him: that deep, dark, predatory voice.
"Training will begin soon, cocksucker. A faggot is brought in to a training cell where perspective is taught. It's a small cell. A four-foot cube. With a small hole. Where Men will slide in their Cocks to be worshipped.
"These Men will measure a faggot's performance. If they are satisfied, they press the yes' button. If they are not satisfied, they press the no' button. Every no erases a yes. A faggot has one goal: to get to the magic number of 'yes' votes within 30 days. And that magic number, cuntface, is 666. Get 666 men satisfied within 30 days. That's over 22 men a day, faggot.
"Failure to reach that number in time will have consequences. Brutal punishment to instill the fact that We mean business. Then it's back in the cell and the process starts all over again. Until a faggot finally gets skilled enough to suck down six hundred and sixty-six loads in thirty days."
Holy shit. What the fuck did I get myself into? This was something I never felt before ... wanting something so fucking much and being terrified of it all at the same time. It was like this Man, this voice, this God .... was ripping my psyche into shreds. My brain was being raped.
I hadn't even noticed when the van stopped. I yelped as the sack and I were pulled over a man's shoulder. Apparently he'd disconnected the headphones because there was no more voice. I was carried awhile. This man talked to me loudly enough to be heard through the headphones. It didn't take much since I was all over the guy.
"The best part is, faggot, there will be no way to know day from night. No way to measure how much time has passed or how much time is left. No way to see what button a Man has pressed, so no way to know how many Cocks still need to be worshipped. And once these headphones get plugged in, no way to hear what a Man has to say. A faggot has to learn by instinct. Measuring a Man's pleasure by the response of His Cock. And worshiping every Cock as if its pathetic life depended on it.
"And it does, faggot. Because Our Cocks will be the only source of nutrition, Our cum and piss the only food and drink a faggot gets, until the test is passed."
The chuckle that followed was of a kind of sadistic evil I hadn't heard in my worst nightmares. I was then dumped on the floor. I felt a rip above me as the sack was knifed open. Then I was kicked forward, eyes and ears still covered. I could feel the space around me tighten as I shuffled forward on my knees, my wrists still locked behind me. Somebody fiddled with the cuffs a moment, apparently loosening them a little bit. The blindfold was pulled off and I could see the darkness of my cell. No light except for the hole on the other side. A glory hole. Then I felt a slight pull on the headphone cord and a slam and click behind me.