Sorry to be so long in getting this Chapter out. Problem is so many ideas and not enough time......lol. As the story continues we'll be dropping in on several scenes at a time so I'm providing a list of characters for quick and easy reference. As they become involved in the story you can quickly scroll up to remember who they are in case you come across a number which may not be as easy to remember as a name.
Additionally, I would like to say that the various racial slurs in the story are there for the development of particular characters. I don't use them, but I recognize they are a reality in parts of our world.
As before, I continue my search for a slave to be of assistance as I explore this story. I don't like being without a slave and feel I have a great deal to offer the right boi. Let me hear from you if you want more information.
115 (Matt Forest): 23 yo, 6'2", 195, 9" uncut, Anglo, athletic build, blond hair and blue eyes, straight, single unattached guy getting his life started. (Wearing ball weights)
The Doctor: 41yo, 6'1", 185, Anglo, well defined, short salt and pepper hair and blue eyes, sadist that has developed a way to profit from his sadism.
Trainer: 37yo, 6'4", 215, 10" uncut, Anglo/Latino, muscular but not bulky, dark hair and eyes, sadist that has worked for the Doctor for years running his training stable, hoping to become a partner.
Mr. Watts: 31yo, 5'11", 170, 7" cut, Anglo, athlectic build, dark hair and brown eyes, loves his job scouting for new slaves.
99: 22 yo, 5'8", 175, 6" cut, Anglo, muscular, dark hair and blue eyes, straight, captive for 6 months.
101: 21 yo, 6'4", 225, 12" uncut, Black, heavily musceled, black hair and brown eyes, straight, captive 5 1/2 months.
103: 23 yo, 6'2", 195, 8" uncut, Latino, tall slender and well defined, black hair and brown eyes, gay, captive just over
5 months.
104: 22 yo, 6'2", 190, 7" cut, Anglo, swimmer's build, brown hair and eyes, gay, captive just under 5 months.
105: 24 yo, 5'8", 165, 6" uncut, Iranian, slighter build but very well defined, black hair and eyes, straight, captive 4 1/2
months. (Wearing ball weights)
107: 19 yo, 5'9", 165, 8" uncut, Latino (Captured illegal), athletic build, brown hair and eyes, straight, captive 3 1/2
months. (Wearing ball weights)
109: 23 yo, 6'1", 190, 10" uncut, Black (Ebony), slightly muscular and well defined, straight, captive just over 2 months.
112: 21 yo, 6', 180, 9" cut, Anglo (darkly handsome features), athletic build and well defined with attractive body hair, straight, captive about 6 weeks.
113: 24 yo, 6', 190, 5" cut, Asian, slender but muscular build, black hair and brown eyes, gay, captive almost 1 month. (Wearing ball weights)
Bosses:
Murphy: 32 yo, 6'2", 200, 7.5" uncut, Anglo, muscular, dark features and hairy chest, straight, employed 3 years.
Willis: 33 yo, 6'1", 205, 7" cut, Black, muscular, black hair and eyes, gay, employed 3.5 years.
Martin: 31 yo, 6'3", 215, 8" uncut, Anglo, very muscular, lt. brown hair and green eyes, straight, employed 2.5 years.
Samuels: 34 yo, 6'2", 205, 8" cut, Anglo, muscular, blond hair and green eyes, gay, employed 2 years.
Jackson: 33 yo, 6'4", 210, 8" uncut, Anglo, very muscular, brown and brown, straight, employed 3 years.
Holt: 28 yo, 6'2", 200, 7.5 " uncut, Anglo, muscular, blond hair and blue eyes, straight, employed 1 year.
I continue to hope that you're enjoying the read, and always enjoy hearing from you with ideas or suggestions. Please remember if you write me to tell me where you're from, I'm amazed at how spread out we are. I also enjoy hearing from younger slaves looking for an older Master with a great imagination and more to offer.......:)
Sex Toy Enslavement Chapter 7
115's first week at the slave farm was fairly routine, although if he had heard that word used in reference to his first week, he would have been shocked as Hell because there was nothing that happened to him during that week that he would have ever remotely described as "routine." He learned several of the basic positions that a slave assumes at various times. He learned how to eat from a large dog bowl on the floor and how to lap his water with his tongue from another bowl. He learned how to squat over a bucket to piss or shit while others watched. He learned how to relax his ass a little as someone chose to fuck him. He learned to refrain from speaking to any superior unless given permission. He learned the collar around his neck was a form of control that was swift and brutal and to obey all commands without resistance or be prepared to pay a painful price. He learned a little more about sucking a man's dick and pleasing him. He learned that indeed dicks tasted differently as did their cum. He learned that even when you felt you couldn't experience any more pain, you could. He learned the basics of being a human urinal whenever it was demanded. He learned that his future was to please another man sexually by giving himself to him completely, and he learned that there was very little chance that he could escape that future. That last realization made all the others even more bitter. He hadn't entirely lost hope of getting away, but he was overpowered by the sense of absolute and complete control which was exerted on him and the other slaves constantly. He had never imagined such a condition, such a world, was possible, but he now knew it was, and he was most definitely a part of it.
Each of the five nights after his night with Holt, was simply another adaptation of Hell. 115 learned that each of the Bosses was, in his own way, a cruel sadistic bastard. There didn't seem to be an ounce of compassion between the whole lot, and it was probably a good thing that he learned that lesson early. These men had complete control over the slaves, demanding immediate and absolute obedience, and when dissatisfied that they were getting that, became cruel, vicious and creative torturers. Torture seemed to be their favorite pass time, and since they had ten subjects right there, and orders to break them and make them as submissive as necessary, it proved to be a pass time that sometimes seemed more full time.
One afternoon 115 noticed that Jackson was wearing his old watch. It was startling to be getting on his knees in front of Jackson to service him, when he noticed Jackson's wrist for some reason, then he saw it. As Jackson was berating him for something, all of a sudden, all he could see was his old watch. His dad had given it to him on his eighteenth birthday. All of a sudden he was swept back to another time, another place. In an instant he was free again, and just as quickly he was back, as Jackson slapped him hard across the face for not performing when commanded.
"What the fuck is wrong with you shit head," Jackson harshly asked, "when I tell you to start sucking, I expect you to jump to it and feel privileged that I'd let a filthy faggot like you even touch my dick." Then Jackson noticed that 115's eyes were glued to his wrist. At first Jackson couldn't figure out what was going on then he remembered he'd taken the watch 115 was looking at from that pile of his crap.
"Oh, so you like my watch, do you?" Jackson mockingly inquired, and decided this could be a teaching moment, and a little fun at the same time.
"Yeah, I got it recently, haven't decided if I really like it though," he said as he moved his wrist in front of 115, pretending to examine the watch himself, but really wanting 115 to be physically closer to it. "It's not such a great watch, if I find another one sometime that I like better, I'll probably just throw it away. Watches are pretty easy to come by around here," and with that he starred straight into 115's eyes, both knowing what was happening. Tears began to slowly fall from the edges of 115's eyes, and they were certainly waisted on Jackson.
"What are you so sad about slave, why someone would think you're not looking forward to servicing my cock, now get your fucking mouth around it and go down on it all the way. I'm sick of not feeling your lips around the base of my cock when you suck me you little shit, so make sure I feel'em this time. And you can use those babydoll tears of yours to wash my pubes for me. Now get busy!"
And with that Jackson rammed his steel hard cock into 115's vulnerable mouth and proceeded to enjoy himself immensely. 115 made sure that his lips rubbed the base of his cock and in fact, his tears did moisten Jackson's pubes. He was back, completely back, the moment gone, only a residue of something that once seemed important. Now, the only thing that was important was keeping Jackson satisfied so he wouldn't hurt him anymore that day. Why did he need a watch anymore........he thought as Jackson let lose his load of cum down his throat, after all, what difference did it make what time it was in Hell?
115's most difficult day, since his first day, was the day before yesterday. Early that morning, Holt, the Boss that he feared the most, came into his cell and kicked him off of his pallet onto his knees, "Get up you fucking fag,' Holt yelled, kicking and slapping him at the same time. "Today's your day to service this little community, you've gotten a free ride so far, but you'll learn that all you little girls need to pitch in to make this place run smoothly."
With that, Holt pulled out a strange object. It looked a lot like aligator tit clamps, but they were of a little different shape and the chain was connected differently. Two mean looking clamps were attached to a chain, which in turn had another chain running down from it. 115 couldn't imagine how this contraption worked, but then he didn't have long to ponder it as Holt pulled out another object. This one 115 recognised as a stretcher that kept a person's mouth wide open. Of course he only had that knowledge because he'd seen the contraption used on another slave already. As quickly as realization of the objects purpose came to him, so did the order to open his mouth. He did so, only to be slapped soundly across the face.
"When I tell you to open your mouth, cunt breath, I mean for you to open it as wide as you can, not merely yawn," Holt commanded. With that, 115 stretched his mouth open as wide as he could, and he felt the metal braces being put in and locked into place. Soon, he no longer had to strain to keep his mouth open, he couldn't have closed it even a fraction of an inch, so well was it locked into place. Now his mouth was truly wide open.
Then Holt took the clamps and fastened one to the back of each of 115's ears. The aligator clamps dug into his ear's cartlidge, but there was nothing 115 could do about it, and even less that he could say about it, since it was impossible to speak with the brace in his mouth. Then Holt told 115 to grab his elbows behind his back. When he complied, Holt quickly placed restraints in such a way that 115's arms and hands were affectively useless. As a last touch, Holt connected the rest of the chain that pulled 115's ears back, to his forearms behind his back. 115 was locked in a position where his head was upturned, with his mouth held wide open. It was impossible to change his position at all because of the ingenious way Holt had restrained him. 115 had a terrible feeling about all of this, suspecting what it might be for, based on the past few days, but hoping he was wrong.
Each day, one of the slaves became the "piss boi." His duty was to present his open mouth to anyone, slaves included sometimes, so that the person could relieve himself in the slave's mouth. 115 hadn't been forced to use anyone as a human urinal, but he had seen it being done, wondering how it was possible anyone would allow himself to be used in such a way. His thoughts were interrupted by Holt in a most timely manner.
"This is the way a good slave is trained to be a good toilet. Today, anytime you are ordered, you will fall to your knees before whomever orders you and allow them the use of your mouth. This way, the Bosses don't have to leave their important work, and can stay with the other slaves. But today, you will be the toilet for every person in this complex.......slaves included. It's time you start learning just what your position is around here faggot, and you can start with me. With that, Holt unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock and stepped up to 115's mouth. 115 started to move, but felt his neck began to burn, and just that quickly was reminded that he had no choice in this. He made some strained gurgling sounds, trying to beg Holt not to do this, but he was waisting his time and his energy. Holt held 115's head in place and told him, "if you move, even a fraction of an inch, I'll take you to that special room for the rest of the day. You'll be lucky to come out alive, and then you'll begin all this tomorrow.......understand you worthless piece of shit........you're the toilet today, and nothing on this earth will change that.
With that, Holt released a torrent of hot piss into 115's waiting mouth. 115 tried as hard as he could not to choke, but then felt himself being kicked and slapped again by Holt, who had stopped his stream. "Listen you piss mouth, if you want piss all over your cell for the rest of the day, that's your business, but when a man uses you, you will swallow every drop of what he gives you. If you don't, you will feel both your necklace and the lash. Now get with the program.......swallow cunt face, swallow every drop," and Holt began pissing in 115's mouth again. 115 struggled, and actually succeeded in swallowing most of Holt's piss, a little ran down his chin and chest, but Holt seemed satisfied enough at 115's first effort. 115 had never tasted anything like it, it was acrid, it was awful, it was humiliating, it was disgusting........how could this be happening to him. Every man in the complex would be using him as their toilet today........every man........he didn't think he could do it, but then he realized he had little choice.
And so, just that quickly, 115 descended a little further into Hell as he became a human toilet. Holt took him and had him kneel next to the bars of each cell allowing each slave to take his turn emptying his bladder into today's toilet. Most of the slaves didn't think much about it one way or another, because they had all gone through this treatment, and had learned that it was expected of them. 115 would just have to learn like everyone else what was expected of a slave.
For his part, 115 was completely humiliated and emotionally destroyed. Never in his life had he imagined that he would have to do such a thing. Gulping constantly, as a heavy stream of piss flooded his mouth. The brace holding his mouth open made it especially hard to swallow, but maybe that was intended as part of the torment. 115 thought he would drown before 101 was finished. It had been bad enough when 101 had pissed up his ass chute, but now, releasing his torrent of piss into 115's mouth, 115 thought there was a real chance he would die trying to drink all of this man's piss.
Soon the foul taste in his mouth was a constant reality for him, much as the ball stretcher had become for his sore balls. It seemed to take forever, but finally all nine of the other slaves had been serviced. 115 was full of piss, he wasn't sure he would actually be able to hold much more, but others had determined how to take care of that and add to the humiliation. Afterall, everything should be a learning experience, when there was so much to learn about being a slave and pleasing real men.
When Holt began to notice that 115's abdomen was becoming distended with all the liquid, he told him, "You'll hold that piss until I give you permission to take a piss yourself. Don't you dare leak a single drop until you're given permission. Do you understand me you walking piss bucket?"
115 tried to acknowledge what Holt had said to him, then realized his question was rhetorical because there was no way he could respond. That's when he began to worry that he might accidently begin to piss before being given permission. He had taken the morning piss of ten men so far, and he felt like he was sloshing as he walked from one to the other. He didn't know how much more he could hold. Then he realized, he'd hold what he had to hold. It was awful, it was terrible, but he was going to get through this.
Then Holt began to torture 115 by pressing his hand against his abdomen. "Are we filling up already little faggot," he asked as he laughingly continued to press against his stomach. With each push, 115 groaned in agony as shock waves of pain went shooting throughout his gut. The more he groaned in agony, the more Holt enjoyed surpising him with another push in the gut. 115 couldn't really see when it was coming since he was tied in such a way as to always be looking up, mostly all he'd seen this morning were dicks and the ceiling. The additional factor in his need to piss was that Holt hadn't allowed him to piss yet this morning. He still had his night's load of piss inside, and now all this other piss working through his system........all wanting to get out.
Finally, Holt took him to a large tub in a large hall connecting several of the rooms. He told 115 to step into the tub and then sit down, with his legs crossed. That proved to be more of a challenge than it sounded like since he was looking almost straight up and his arms were tied behind his back. His sense of balance and motion were affected. Finally, he half squatted and half fell into the bottom of the tub. In this new position he was looking up, and could see Holt.
"Well, don't take all day shit head, you were moaning all over the place, you must need to piss, so piss."
115's eyes widened a little in surprise. Surely he couldn't mean for him to piss in this tub while he was sitting in it, but of course, that's exactly what he meant. No, he wouldn't do it.......it was too much.......it was absofuckinglutely too much, 115 thought, as he began to become so angry with the situation. But what difference would his anger make......it would just make it harder to survive, he realized. Then he felt it, his piss flowing from his cock and gathering around him in the tub. He pissed for what seemed like forever, and he sat in it. Waiting for his next instructions.
"Did you think I was going to be leading you around all day piss breath? I have more important things to do than that. For the next few hours you'll sit right where you are. Anyone needing a piss will come to you and you'll take it. When you need to piss, piss. Piss all you want, afterall, you'll be sitting in it most of the day," Holt said laughingly as he began to walk out of the room then caught himself as if just remembering, "Damn," he said, "would have been my hide if I forgot that," as he turned back to 115, who couldn't see what Holt was doing then realized what had brought him back. Holt reached down to grab the chain holding 115's ball weight, then casually and viciously dropped it over the side of the tub. It jerked 115's balls toward the edge of the tub with a savage pull. He groaned miserably as he learned that pain could be added to humiliation heightening both sensations. Holt then began to chuckle, leaving 115 to his misery.
As the Doctor and Trainer were going to their private conference room, they stopped in the hall to use that day's piss slave. They paused in their conversation long enough to relieve themselves, each taking the opportunity to ask 115 how he was enjoying his "new job." Of course 115 couldn't respond as each man pissed into his mouth, then the Doctor simply moved his cock so he was pissing all over 115's face. Soon his hair was dripping with the Doctor's piss making his Hell complete. After the two men finished their piss, 115 could hear the piss dripping from his hair into the pool of piss he was sitting in. But worst of all, Trainer and the Doctor simply turned after using him and continued their discussion as they walked. His misery wasn't even an object of their focus for more than a couple of minutes........he now began to realize just how low he was on the scale of things. Even his misery was but a moment's notice to these men, who obviously had more important things to discuss. Here he was, covered in piss, filled with piss, and sitting in piss, and it was nothing to them. Tears began to well up from his eyes and run down the sides of his head, but there was no one there to even notice.
When Trainer and the Doctor got to the conference room, the doctor was just changing subjects, "I want you to have the slaves prepared for presentation to a new customer. He contacted me about a month ago, and we've been chatting about what he's looking for. I'm not sure he even really knows at this point, all I am sure of is that he can afford whatever he decides he wants so I want to make sure he sees our variety and the quality of our stock. I'll explain to him that some are still in the early stages of training, but I'll also let him know that at this stage we can also modify the training in special ways if he so chooses. It will also be good for some of the new stock to go through the presentation to a buyer."
"I think you're right about that," Trainer observed, as he began making some mental notes about the preparations that would be necessary. Do you have a date in mind yet?"
"The eighteenth looked good to the customer the last time we spoke, and I should be able to confirm that today or tomorrow. I'll let you know for sure as soon as I know, but I thought you'd like the advance notice in order to begin getting ready."
"Yes, I appreciate knowing, everything will be ready. By the way, have you had a chance to see 109 in the past few days?"
"No, but I read your daily report, and I'm looking forward to enjoying his pleasures. In fact, have him prepared for me tomorrow night, I'll keep him in my room for the night. I don't have to tell you, that your success with 109 means we may be making some changes here, it could mean a little more intense work for you, but the additional profits should be worth it. I'm very pleased with your efforts Trainer, very pleased, and we'll need to set some time aside to discuss our future."
Those were the words Trainer was hoping to hear. He'd worked hard, but it was really paying off for him now. He was anxious to begin those conversations, but knew better than to rush the Doctor. He was a hard man, but a fair one, and Trainer knew if he kept producing the results the Doctor wanted, his future could be bright indeed.
"Watt's called me yesterday, he has found another candidate for us. I was glad to hear from him because I don't like not being at capacity. Anytime I go into the stable and see an empty cell I feel like I have this huge hole in my pocket and money is falling out. He knows I want to keep this place at capacity and is working to find us two more slaves. I should know about this particular candidate in a few days. He's another whitey, but he has red hair which always seems to be an attraction for some reason, so I have my hopes up about this one."
"We haven't had a red head since #89, and as I remember, once we broke him, he didn't last long around here. Didn't the customer in Toronto take that one? In fact, we made a number of alterations as I remember."
"Yeah, but with all the alterations the price was just over $850,000, so it was worth the extra work. Funny thing is, that customer said he'd like a pair of red heads, so I've had Watts on the look out. Seems he may have found one. If he has I want you to be prepared to expedite that one, because as soon as I know he'll work, I'll be calling that customer. Only this time, it's going to cost him a little more to complete his matched set," he remarked as both men laughed while they continued discussing the particulars involved in running a successful slave farm.
At about the same time that the Doctor and Trainer were having their meeting, Holt was was getting ready for a little fun. Trainer had instructed him to take some extra time with 105 over the next few days. Trainer was ready to take 105 to the next level of submission, and knew extra doses of humiliation would aid that process. He also knew that 105, for some reason, had a particular hatred for Holt. So to have to serve Holt in those ways would be particularly humiliating for 105.
Holt knew his instructions and was pleased that Trainer would trust him with a job that was usually done by more senior Bosses. Holt loved his work on the farm. He'd never imagined such places existed, but had been in heaven since finding out about it and working here. He'd always been something of a bully, but even he had been surprised with how much he enjoyed being able to torture someone, it was a real turn on. He was careful to stay within the limits he was given, but good for him, the slaves had no idea what those limits were. What really excited him was the prospect of being hired as a trainer himself by one of the customers. He already understood that the men who bought these slaves were only interested in the pleasure of using them. They would no more think about the day to day care or training of them than they would the horese, or fine cars, or mansions that they owned. They would simply hire someone to take care of those details, and Holt understood that several former Bosses were now well situated with wealthy clients. He was going to play his cards right and work hard to get there himself. Not a bad future for a high school drop out he mused.
As soon as he opened 105's cell, 105 knew his life in Hell was going to be worse. This bastard of a sadist was the worst of all the Bosses to 105, he hated him, but he still had to obey him completely, which only made everything worse. He jumped to present himself properly to the Boss, causing his ball stretcher to jerk and sway.
Holt had put on his favorite uniform as a Boss. It consisted mainly of leather straps around and across his torso and groin, not much else, so his generous uncut cock was well displayed. The first time he'd put this uniform on, he knew he was in the right place. He looked great in it and felt powerful. He loved the fact that the Bosses were like gods for the slaves, and the slaves had to worship their bodies. Putting themselves on display like this was a reminder to the slave of their place and their role in the world.
As 105 knelt before Holt, with his head cast slightly downward, not daring to look into the eyes of a free man without permission, he presented a beautiful package. Holt still prefered women, a little, but there was nothing to compare with the power he felt when he was with a slave. It was more than just sex, in fact, the sex was used as a tool to emphasize the power, the domination over the slave. Holt didn't realize it yet, but he was becoming addicted to that power, and for some reason he found himself being drawn to exercising that power over 105 in particular. He really didn't know what it was about this particular rag head, but he felt himself drawn to him in some way. That's one of the reasons he had quielty celebrated when Trainer came to him and assigned this part of 105's training to him. He knew it was a test for him, and it was a test he planned on passing with flying colors. He couldn't kill this slave, only Trainer could do that, and Holt realized these slaves were extremely valuable, but 105 didn't know he couldn't kill him, and there was a long way down the highway of pain before death was an option. This was going to be fun, but it wasn't quite right yet........."crawl after me you little faggot."
Holt led 105 out to the center of the cell block so that the slaves still in their cells had a good view of everything. Nothing increased the level of humiliation quite like an audience. Especially for what Holt had in mind.
"You other slaves present on your knees next to the bars and watch your sister service a real man." And just that quickly, there was an audience as the slaves quickly moved into the ordered position. One might think that this particular audience wouldn't affect any of the slaves, but that's not the case. Humiliation is humiliation, and even if the audience is sympathetic to the victim, the victim is still being used in front of it.
However, Holt had a little surprise up his sleeve. He had prepared for this event almost a week earlier when he had 105 in his room for the evening. A little private tutoring about how he wanted 105 to present himself to him. He had taught him, knowing that middle easterns are such prideful men. He wanted the pride to be part of the undoing, so he had taught 105 to present in a little different manner. He knew 105 thought this was to be a private thing, just for when they were together, but 105 was about to learn that there is no such thing as privacy in the life of a slave.......this lesson would be hard learned.
"Okay 105, you know how I like for you to present yourself to me........so present," Holt ordered.
105 couldn't believe his ears. Surely this bastard wouldn't force him to perform that disgusting scene in front of anyone else......even slaves.......anyone. He looked at Holt with true fear in his eyes, the fear that comes from crossing a threshold that you can't come back over. He had done humiliating, degrading things, but this was worse to him.
"Please, please Boss Holt, please don't make me do this," he begged quietly. Holt could hear him, and he relished the sound, the pain in the voice of this beautiful man. Holt's reaction was more than even he realized when he noticed that the quiet begging of 105 was making him hard, but it was true. As 105 begged, Holt was coming to full erection.
"Don't make me have to report to Mr. Trainer that you were disobedient you little cunt," Holt snarled as he slapped 105 viciously across the face. The blow was strong enough to knock 105 over, but he quickly got back into position, as he knew it would be worse for him if he didn't. He was terrified of Trainer and knew what his response would be. He and Trainer would be in that room for a long time. It had already happened two different times, and Trainer had told him if there was a third, and he was lucky enough to come out alive, he would have a shotgun shell around his neck, just like 109, and no one had seen him in almost a week. 105 hated what was happening to him, but he wanted to stay alive. He felt himself begin to cross that threshold, he didn't know if he could live with himself on the other side, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to live on this side.
"I'm waiting faggot, now present yourself the way I taught you, or face Trainer," Holt demanded as his eyes bore into 105's soul.
Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed the air went out of 105, as this proud and beautiful mid eastern man realized he had no choice, that he was a slave, and would have to do whatever was commanded. Holt gave an evil smile as he saw the change in 105 and watched as his body began to shift. 105 slowly went from his knees, realizing for the first time that the presentation postition even as a slave had a certain dignity to it, but what he was preparing to do was simply horrible. He went down so that his upper buttock was on the floor,then rolled a little onto his side, resting on one elbow. Then he slowly raised one leg into the air exposing his butt hole as he reached with his free hand to begin fingering that hole.......slipping his finger in and out seductively, and then finally, the last act of submission, with tears in his eyes, he looked up slowly into Holt's face, softened his voice and gently said, "Please Boss, please.......... won't you use this............ little pussy boi's cunt hole, please Boss,........... use that big, gorgeous cock of yours............ to send me to paradise."
105 was choking with tears, he wasn't sure he could finish, but knew that he had to somehow. He looked at Holt pleadingly, but he only snarled, "Go on faggot."
"Please Boss...........your cock in me.............. is the only.......... paradise I want. I don't want.......... any virgins, I just want you................ using my worthless............pussy........... to please yourself," he choked.
Then Holt began the little dance of words, which drove home the complete degradation of what was happening. "I'm not a fag, that I would use some little boi for my pleasure, you disgusting piece of shit," he said.
"No Boss, you're all man, you're man enough to............ send this worthless.......... pussy............ cunt right to heaven........please Boss. Besides this little........... pussy is really.......... a girl/boy. Look at these........ little titties..........."105 was almost sobbing, he was choking so badly he could hardly get the words out, but knew his life could well depend on pleasing this sadist, so he continued the farce........."these little titties.......... that you could nibble on," and with that he curled the arm he was resting on and started squeezing one of his nipples. "Or these little....... ovaries that just.......... love to be held.......... in your masculine hands," and 105 pulled the finger out of his asshole and began to lift his balls up for Holt's inspection. Of course, this was made more difficult with the ball weight, but that was irrelevant to Holt, whose face was looking more relaxed now that 105 had complied.
But Holt wanted to drive the point home with a vengence, so he looked at 105 maliciously and said mockingly, "I can't believe my ears, this masculine, Iranian, macho man is fingering his pussy and begging me to fuck him. This can't be happening, I must have misheard. Could you please say all that again for me, so I'll know for sure if you're serious."
Then Holt simply smiled at 105 and waited.
105 looked up and realized he was looking at the devil. It was bad enough that he'd had to do that at all, but had to do it in front of other men, and now was being ordered to do it again. He couldn't, he just couldn't, he wouldn't.....it was too much, then Holt did something that shook 105 to his very core, something that startled him back into this reality that was now as permanent as anything he had ever known. Holt gazed into 105's shocked eyes as he casually pulled a shotgun shell from the side of his belt and twirled it a little in his fingers. He didn't have to say a word, but you could have heard a pin drop in the room. It was as if the air itself had been sucked out of the space, as 105 looked up at the shell. Everyone in the room, except Holt, was thinking the same thing.......what happened to 109........and was it about to happen to 105.
Not a word was spoken by anyone, but the room slowly came back into motion and began to move with the rest of the world. 105 knew what he had to do, and he WOULD do it. He looked up at Holt, and in the most seductive voice he could muster, he began the routine all over again.
"Please Boss, please, won't you...... use this little....... pussy boi's cunt hole, please Boss, use that big........gorgeous cock of yours........to send me to paradise............. and it went on as before, only this time, there were fewer tears and more resignation in his voice, something that wasn't lost on Holt, but he wasn't finished yet, not by a long shot.
"I'm still having trouble understanding you and your pidgin English, that's the problem with so many of you rag heads, you seem so smart, but can't pronounce the simplest words. Education is truly wasted on your kind, but luckily I know a great technique for improving poor pronounciation. You place a few marbles in your mouth then practice speaking until you can be understood. I've seen it done on television, it really works. Does anyone have any marbles," and Holt looked around at the other slaves, everyone knowing he had something diabolical in mind.
"No, well, that's okay, we'll make do somehow," he said as he went to 103's and 113's cell doors and told them to get out to the center. He had them both, the slender hispanic and the slender Asian stand near 105's head. "We may not have marbles, but we have a goodly supply of balls that will do the trick just fine," he said with a sarcastic tone to his voice.
"113, get that chinc ball sac of yours over that faggot rag heads mouth. And you, 105 take one of those miserably little chinc balls into your mouth. Both did as ordered, then waited for Holt's next pleasure. "Now before you start your little recital again tell me your number 105."
"AWN-AUW-AIH," 105 tried vainly to say.
"What the shit is that suppose to mean, you disgusting little pussy," Holt snarled at him. Problem is you still need to work on it........we need more "marbles."
"103, get your balls over there," and 103 stepped over to 105's head. Only now 103 and 113 had to stand embracing each other to keep from loosing balance, as 103 got his ball sac to 105's mouth. Since 105 only had one of 113's balls in his mouth, he knew he could hold another one, but he'd never tried doing this from two ball sacs at the same time. His face was mashed into the lower groins of 103 and 113. Finally, he grunted that he had one of 103's balls in his mouth as well.
"Finally, I'm beginning to think all you faggots love playing with each other so you do everything slowly so as to get more pleasure out of it. We've got a lot to do, so let's get started. Okay 105, no wait, 105 you're not enticing me anymore with that finger you keep sticking in and out of your cunt. I think it's just too little to be of interest. Tell you what, since I know what a big pussy boi cunt you are, and how much you want me to fuck you, why don't you start using three fingers? Okay? Go ahead now, three fingers," Holt said in a mockingly friendly voice.
105 wasn't sure he would make it through Holt's fun and games, but he kept remembering the shotgun shell. He groaned as he began to stretch his asshole with three fingers. He slowly began to move them in and out of his cunt.
"Oh! That's a lot better, yes, I like that much more. Now, try your recitation again pussy."
Only now the sounds were simply indistinguishable gutteral noises. Holt listened for a minute, then went to the next step.
"No, you're still speaking like you've never heard good American English, which isn't surprising because you certainly never heard it in your home growing up," Holt laughingly said. 105 didn't realize it, but his face began to glow red with anger, humiliation and a deep desire for vengence.
"Tell you what I'm gonna do to help you out. Since we still have more balls, I think if we can get them all in your mouth, this just might work."
103 and 113 froze in place, holding each other. They couldn't imagine how they would each get another ball into 105's mouth, but then Holt made it so they didn't have to worry about it. He walked up to the unusual configuration of the three slaves and told them to all be still. He then reached down and grabbed the part of 103's ball sac that wasn't in 105's mouth. "All we have to do is press this little baby in here............," he said, and with that he began pressing 103's ball into 105's mouth. 103 began to scream from the pain of having his ball pressed into the tight confines of 105's mouth. All he could do was to hold on to 113 with all of his strength as the pain seared through his gut. Finally, his entire ball sac was in 105's mouth.
"See now, that wasn't so bad, and I'm sure we still have room for this little pea ball that chinc cunt here seems so proud of. Let's see if we can't just...............," and Holt grabbed 113's remaining ball and began pushing it past 105's lips and teeth. 105 was beginning to choke while he stretched his mouth open as wide as he could, but knew he had to hold position or it would be even worse for 103 and 113, who were both now screaming in pain as their balls were squeezed into this small space. There was a chorus of screaming and groaning as all three slaves suffered under the siege of this bastard, but Holt was just grinning and listening to the music.
"Okay! Holt shouted, shut the fuck up, all of you. 105, I don't see your finger's moving in and out of your pussy, get busy cunt and do what you know you need to do, and you can begin your recital again. You two keep the fuck quiet so I can hear him," Holt yelled at 103 and 113, who were now holding each other and crying softly on each others shoulders.
If the sounds were indistinguishable before, they now didn't even sound human as 105 began his humiliating speech again, while sticking his fingers in and out of his pussy. He realized two things suddenly, one he already knew, the other surprised him. First, he would kill this man some day, no matter what it took, and second, he had just thought of his own asshole as a pussy............his sense of shame overwhelmed him. As hard as he had worked to keep them out of his mind, he knew he couldn't keep them out of his body, but his mind was his. Yet now, he realized, this bastard had gotten in. If he could, so could the others...........Allah help him, he had to get out soon, or he'd never be himself again.
By now, Holt was actually burning with some desire to fuck this guy, so he got down his knee and started to pull 105's ass up a little. This movement changed the dynamics of the slave configuration and Holt snarled to 105, "If even one of those balls comes out of your mouth, all three of you will go into our special room and you'll have to be carried out........understand faggots."
All three slaves quickly grabbed each other to stay in position. 105 had to grab onto the forearms of the other two in order to support his weight as Holt lifted his butt off the floor. The shift also caused some additional pull on both ball sacs, in turn causing a good deal of additional pain for 113 and 103. Of course, Holt was completely unconcerned with all of this as he spat into his hand and lubed his shaft in preparation to give this cunt a good fuck. He didn't worry about being gentle, hell, these were slaves, they prefered it rough.
With that, Holt rammed himself into 105's nice tight hole.........God, it felt good! He was holding 105 up off the ground, but he was strong enough to do that, and it afforded him the opportunity to swing 105 a little which felt good on his cock, and caused some delicious sounds to come out of 103 and 113. He wouldn't give you ten cents for the lot of them. That's one of the things wrong with this country, these damned immigrants flooding into this country and expecting to all be Americans. Whoever meant for it to work like that. America should be for Americans, not all these spics, chincs and rag heads. It actually felt patriotic in some strange way to be doing this.........teaching this scum that if they want to live here, they need to serve real Americans. It all underscored Holt's basic belief about this slave farm. That was, that deep down, these slaves craved this, there was something wrong with them, or they would never have been caught. A real man would never allow this kind of thing to happen to him. With that certainty and self assurance, Holt felt himself getting very close. He jerked 105 again rather hard, which in turned sent 103 and 113 into new spasms of pain, and their screams just made him feel even stronger and YES.........YES..........YES, as he shot chord after chord of his true American cum into this rag heads pussy........YES........YES........."Take it all and appreciate that I'd waste my time teaching you your place in life, you little cunt," he shouted as he continued to shoot his juices.
Finally, exhausted, he pulled his cock out of 105 and dropped his ass on the floor. He'd done his part. Helping to get these perverts off the street, and making a little profit to boot. God, this was a great country. He'd use each of them before the day was out, but he still had special plans for 105. Trainer had told him to make 105 his personal project for the next few days, and he was only too happy to comply. This rag head had been coasting around here for months. It was time to break him and get him sold, and Holt would do his part in making that happen.........gladly.
I'll try to get the next chapter out a little sooner than this one. Hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear from you with your comments or suggestions. nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com