This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.
Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are appreciated, the story will be developed on an intermittent basis and there may be considerable time between chapters.
One last thing. while Nifty provides its services free of charge to both budding authors and readers, it is not free of costs. Please consider donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.
THE ENSLAVEMENT OF derek jensen
Prologue
It's cold in the car, very cold. My nipples are like pin-pricks on my chest. i mean my tits are like pin-pricks on my chest. i don't have nipples on my chest. Men have nipples, slave-boys have tits. And that's what i am, or soon will be, a full-fledged slave-boy. Right now, i'm only a slave-boy in training but, even so, i already know that i have tits on my chest just like i have a boypussy between my legs.
As i sit in my cold car, my boypussy is throbbing in anticipation. Of course, it helps that it's completely stuffed with a massive buttplug set to vibrate at the highest possible level. It's been humming ever since i stepped out of the house and turned it on, like Master ordered me to. Master was good enough not to make me turn it on until i had left home and said goodbye to my parents and my brother Trey. One last concession to the world i was leaving, just like the jeans, T-shirt, running shoes and jacket he let me wear as I walked out the door, carrying the single suitcase he told me to bring.
Once in the car, though, i immediately stripped down to clothing more appropriate for a slave-boy - my skimpy jeans/shorts, with the pockets removed and a seam opened in the back to give easy access to my boypussy, and a T-shirt cut-off just below my tits. Nothing else. This is to be my standard clothing in the future when i'm outdoors. i know i look like a complete whore when i wear this outfit but that's only proper, since that's one of the things i'm destined to be, one of the things i've already started to become - a complete whore.
Indoors, of course, i'll be wearing nothing at all. Slave-boys are always kept naked around Real Men and that's where i'll be spending most of my time from now on - around Real Men who know how to make good use of a slave-boy like me. And they've been making good use of me for the last two years as i've gone through my slave-boy training with Master.
Tomorrow, though, my training ends. Tomorrow, Master is going to proclaim me as His slave-boy in front of all of His friends at a local bar. My training period is over. Tomorrow i start to live as the slave-boy i'll be for the rest of my life.
It's very fitting that Master picked tomorrow as the date for my formal introduction as His slave-boy. Tomorrow is also my birthday. i'll be twenty-one tomorrow. The age when a boy can finally legally drink. The age when a boy finally becomes a full-fledged man in the eyes of the law and society.
Of course, i will never become a man, regardless of what the calendar says. i am and will always remain a boy. And i will never drink liquor, or at least i won't in the future. In the future i will only be drinking those liquids appropriate for consumption by a boy, by a slave-boy: the piss of my Master and other Real Men and their cum, when i have earned it. Those are the only liquids that will ever pass my lips again, Master has promised me that. And Master always does what He says He'll do. i know that now. i learned that lesson the hard way. Actually, i learned almost all my lessons the hard way. i am, after all, only a boy and like most boys i am stubborn and stupid and the hard way is the only way i can learn.
My entire body is shivering now but i stay in the car. i am still five minutes too early. Master expects me to be precisely on time so i must wait four more minutes before i leave the protection of the car and step out into the world dressed in my slave-boy attire. i've done that before - appeared in public dressed as i am now, looking like a boy-whore - but always with Master or one of His friends. This will be the first time i've ventured out dressed like this on my own and i'm nervous.
It's embarrassing to be seen dressed like this, dressed like a boy-slut. But Master keeps telling me that's part of my problem. i worry too much about what other people think of me. Master tells me the only thing i should ever worry about is making Him happy and it makes Him happy when i'm embarrassed and humiliated so i should always just do what He tells me regardless how humiliating it is for me. i'm a boy. i'm a slave-boy. Being humiliated and embarrassed is what i can expect for the rest of my life. i need to stop worrying about that and just start concentrating on serving Master.
i know i think too much. i should stop thinking so much and just do what i'm told. But it's hard. It's hard to learn that a boy like me just wastes his time when he thinks. As Master has told me time and time again, i wasn't put on this earth to think - i was put here to obey and serve Real Men, like Master. Master will tell me what to do. Master will tell me what to think. All i need to do is hear and obey. i think i've finally learned that lesson but it was hard. It was very hard.
After all, i didn't always realize that i was just a boy, that my destiny was solely to serve as a sexual plaything for Real Men. At one point, i actually thought of myself as a man, as a Real Man. i know now how ludicrous that was - how totally beyond my reach being a Real Man will always be. i, derek jensen, am a slave-boy and will always be a slave-boy and will spend the rest of my life serving Real Men with my mouth-cunt and my boypussy and any other part of my slave-boy body that might give Real Men pleasure. Master taught me that lesson and it's the most important lesson i've learned.
But it's time now, one minute before 8:00 p.m. i open the door of the car and shiver again in the cold mid-December air. It's always cold this time of year in Wichita. And being almost naked makes it so much worse.
i step barefoot on to the frigid asphalt and the cold makes my toes splay. I reach back into the car to pick up my bag. It contains all my earthly possessions, at least the only ones i'll need from now on: dildos, buttplugs, tit-clamps, restraints, all items that Master has instructed me to buy over the past two years. And also, one pair of slacks, one polo shirt (very tight) and one pair of running shoes.
Master says there may be the need on rare occasions for me to appear in public in something less revealing than my whore-boy outfit, like when i'm flying to San Diego to bottom in porn movies or going out to dinner with some older gentlemen who Master has rented me out to for the night. i'm not looking forward to getting my boypussy gangbanged in fuck films or being pimped out to strangers, but i can't expect Master to pay the cost of my upkeep. And Master is not greedy - He's more than willing to share me and my slave-boy body with anyone who'd like a chance to fuck me, particularly when it gives me a chance to earn some money to help defray His expenses. As Master has promised me, my mouth-cunt and boypussy will be seeing a lot of use from now on.
As i close the car door and begin to slowly walk to house, i can feel my little boy-cock trying to rise in erection. But the plastic chastity cage which i have worn for the last two months keeps it bent forward in painful semi-arousal. Though i haven't been able to achieve a real boner since Master caged my little boy-cock, i am so horny all the time that my little boy-prick just keeps dripping boy-scuzz continuously.
Master has promised me that if i do a good job tonight 'entertaining' His friends He'll let me out of my chastity cage tomorrow and permit my little boy-cock to shoot off a load of boy- cream. Of course, that means i face another night of servicing Master's friends without being able to get off, but i'm getting used to that. i've finally learned that my boy-cream is my Master's property just like my little boy-cock and my boypussy and my mouth-cunt and my tits and every other part of my slut-boy body. i am not to waste my precious boy-cream on my own pleasure - my own pleasure is irrelevant - i am now only allowed to cum when it gives Master pleasure to see it. And it pleases Master to make me wait a long time in between ejaculations and, he tells me, eventually i will go years in between orgasms. But that is as it should be, he tells me. my purpose in life is to provide orgasms not to enjoy them.
i know it's a sign of my immaturity that i still even think about my own pleasure, but i get so horny after five or six Real Men have each fucked me and dropped a load up my boypussy (though sometimes they do so together, ignoring my screams) that i just can't help myself. Fortunately, wearing the chastity cage prevents me from cumming without permission so, even though it's incredibly embarrassing wearing it while I'm servicing Master's friends with my mouth-cunt and my boypussy, at least it keeps me from getting in trouble. i'm so grateful that Master had the foresight to insist i wear it but, of course, He knows i'm just a slave-boy and that i need all His help to keep me in my proper place.
Having exited the car, i straighten up and square my shoulders, displaying my completely shaven boy's body for anyone looking to see, but i'm careful to keep my eyes downcast. A boy is always submissive, in posture as well as in his actions. i take one step forward and am startled as bright lights suddenly illuminate the entire driveway, framing my smooth white skin against the black asphalt like a deer in a spotlight.
It is all i can do to keep from covering myself with my hands and running to the doorway's protective shadows. But i successfully resist the entreaties of my modesty and continue to walk slowly to the door, making no attempt to cover up any part of my body. A slave-boy like me has no right to any expectations of modesty. Indeed, a slave-boy should be grateful that his Master has seen fit to allow him any clothing outdoors - even clothing that clearly marks him as a boy-whore - and i know i should be thankful that Master has allowed me the jeans/short and cut-off T-shirt to cover my nakedness from his neighbors. But that is hard, particularly when i can hear the raucous laughter from within Master's house as His friends enjoy my obvious embarrassment.
i take three more steps and realize that i am almost there, almost at Master's door, almost ready to begin my new life. Two more steps and the door will open and i will crawl inside, on my hands and knees as befits a slave-boy, and begin the life Master tells me i was always destined to live. And despite myself, despite all the resolutions that i have made to live in the now and not dwell upon the past, upon what might have been, i find my mind wandering back through all those steps that led me here, back to those first steps i took along the path that brought me to Master and my life as a slave-boy. And i wonder if it ever could have been any different.
It was only two years ago, when i was a fresh-faced high school graduate, thinking i had the whole world to conquer, little realizing that my destiny would soon over-take me. It had started so simply, just reading a story on Nifty. But it was a story that was destined to change my life. It was called "The Dark Quiet," and reading it set me on the path that is now leading me to Master's door - to my life as Master's slave-boy. i was eighteen at the time i read that story, just months from my nineteenth birthday. The year was 2014. Though that was more than two years ago and a lifetime of experience and training was compressed in those two years, at times, it seems like yesterday. i can remember everything.....