Date: Wed, 25 Mar 2009 15:26:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jake Ward <nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sex Toy Enslavement Ch. 3 Gay Male Authoritarian

Disclaimer: The following is an original work of fiction that contains
graphic depictions of sexual activities and erotic abuse between males.
All characters are portrayed as being over 18 years of age, as you should
be to read this.  If you aren't, or if such material is offensive to you or
illegal to read where you are, then stop reading now.
	All rights are reserved by the author.  Please download for
personal use only.
	This story is fiction...........I think.



	When 115 started coming around, the first thing he noticed was the
silence and the darkness.  The room was finally quiet, but he realized he
was not alone.  Someone was lying next to him, in fact, had their arm and
leg over him, and that person was as naked as he was.  He lay still for a
few minutes trying to get his bearings, then moved slightly to be able to
see more around the room.

	From his perspective he couldn't see the whole room.  He was in a
cell about ten by eight.  The bed, if you could call it that, was against
the back wall.  It consisted of a raised wooden platform with a thin pad on
top.  There were no covers, only another man lying half on him because the
bed wasn't really big enough for two people.  When he moved again to try
and see more he heard the man next to him whisper, "Be as still as you can,
don't let them know you're conscious yet.  Who knows what else they might
want to do to you on your first day?  Don't turn, just listen and I'll try
to explain some of what's happened to you.  Don't worry, I'm not going to
hurt you, I'm 104, I'm a slave too."

	115 settled down a little and tried to relax as the voice had said.

	"Like all of us, you were noticed and selected by a guy named Watts
for the good Doctor, though I've yet to find anything "good" about him.
He's a wealthy Doctor who is also a true sadist.  He's developed this slave
farm and now you're part of it.  Sorry to tell you, but no one we know of
has ever escaped.  We've only seen slaves leave here when purchased by a
new master, or a dungeon.  I doubt that makes much sense to you right now,
but believe me, there's a whole underworld developed for the pleasure of
sadists and masters with enough money to do pretty much whatever they like.
You're part of that world now, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is and you
need to start acting accordingly if you want to survive."

	"Trainer is our master while the Doctor is away, and if possible,
he's even more of a sadist, but it doesn't end there.  they have half a
dozen goons that work for them tormenting us, and they seem to really get a
kick out of that.  Two of them fucked us last night when they brought you
in.  I was put in your cell to help keep you calm and to do just what I'm
doing now, but how long I'll be here or when they'll start up on you again,
I couldn't say.  Just keep as still as you can."

	"I guess they showed you your stuff.  That's pretty hard, but not
as hard as it will be when you see bits and pieces of it on the Bosses,
that's what we have to call the goons.  I wish I could tell you it gets
better, but it absloutely doesn't.  You just get more accustomed to the
pain and humiliation and are able to take more.  The morning will be rough
for you, and there's not much any of us can do about that.  There are ten
slaves here now, including you, and we are to treat each other like
brothers, only not like any brothers you've ever heard of.  Do you see that
large, heavy post in the middle of the room, between the cells?  Don't
speak!  Just nod slightly."

	115 looked into the dim light and could barely make out a massive
post about nine feet high and about ten feet beyond his cell.  There were
large, heavy rings bracketed into the post in various places.  He nodded
slightly to his companion that he could see it.

	"Well, when they roust us in a few hours, as a welcome to our new
brother, they'll fasten your arms above your head onto that post.  Then
each of the other ten slaves will be made to fuck you, leaving their cum in
you.  The bosses will be there, whipping us on to make sure we do it hard
enough for their enjoyment.  They'll be laughing and calling us names until
all of us have fucked you.  Then you'll be one of us.  I'm really sorry
guy, I'm not telling you this to scare you, just hoping it will help
prepare you for what's coming.  None of us wants to fuck you, but nothing
here is about what any of us slaves want.  The best you can do is get as
much rest as you can tonight, because you're going to need your strength
tomorrow.  Try and rest, little brother, we'll be able to answer some of
your questions later, and you can answer some for us.  We don't even know
the date around here.  Rest now."

	And with that, 115 felt his companion snuggle a little closer and
relax.  His breathing slowed and 115 knew the other man was asleep, but
there was no sleep for 115.  What had he done to deserve this he wondered.
He began to pray that he would die before the morning, whispering almost
inaudibly, "please, let me die, just let me die......please," and he lay
there the rest of the night praying for death.  But as he heard the
stirrings of a new day in the other cells, he realized that there is no
mercy in Hell.


			------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	Before he realized it, those stirrings became solid movements by
men coming into the large room.  As the lights came up, 115 got a better
look at the room.  There were twelve cells just like his own in the room,
six on each side.  The cells were divided only by bars, so he could see all
along the cells in the room.  As a Boss came into the room, the slaves
began to stir, getting off their beds.

	"Okay ladies, you have a new sister among you today, and I know
you'll all want to welcome her into your family," said the Boss.  Then he
forcefully yelled, "Now get to the fronts of those cages and stick'em out."

	With that, all the slaves moved quickly into place, grasping the
bars with their hands, standing close against the bars, spreading their
legs and sticking their cocks and balls between the bars into the Bosses'
territory.  115 painfully joined 104 at the front of his cell and did like
the others.  He was incredibly sore since his whipping, but he tried to
block that out of his mind.

	For the first time he saw the other slaves.  While racially they
were varied, there were two constants among them.  They were all very good
looking men with well built and well proportioned bodies, and they all had
metal collars fit snuggly around their necks.  In the outside world they
could have been posing for an erotic calendar, then 115 remembered Watts
asking him if he'd ever done any modeling.  He should have started running
as hard as he could away from that guy that very minute.

	Then Trainer strode into the room and you could feel the
electricity and attention from all the slaves.  This man was in complete
control, you wanted to keep this man happy, because angry, this man could
be deadly.  Trainer was carrying something in his hand, but 115 couldn't
make it out.

	"Good morning ladies," Trainer said as he came to the center of the
room.

	"Good morning Sir," the slaves obediently responded.

	This morning you'll each have a chance to welcome your new brother.
His name is 115."  As he was speaking he began to walk around the room and
look into the eyes of the slaves.  Some he would reach out to and take hold
of their cock or balls or both and fondle them or squeeze them.  Each slave
stood willingly for Trainer to do whatever he wanted.  As Trainer
approached 115 he smiled and said, "Welcome 115 to our little family.  I
even thought to bring you a house warming present to make your space a
little more homey."  At that there was laughter among the goons.

	Trainer took what he was carrying and held it out for 115 to see.
It was an iron ball on a leather strap, much like the one he had on last
night for the beating.  "One of the many problems you have that I'll have
to deal with is fortunately only cosmetic.  Our clients like for our slaves
to carry their jewels in such a way as to be highly visible.  They like to
see those jewels dangle and bounce as the slave goes about his duties.
Unfortunately, your ball sack doesn't really hang that low, but this little
gift will be just the thing.

	With that, Trainer roughly grasped 115's ball sac and stretched it
out.  115 gasped at the force and groaned loudly, then felt 104's hand
touch his on the bars.  That little bit of sympathetic human contact,
unnoticed by Trainer or the goons, gave 115 the strength to take Trainer's
rough handling.  When Trainer was finished the weight was hanging between
115's legs, pulling his nut sac down.

	"You'll wear that device 24/7 until I say otherwise.  When you're
on your cot, it's to be hanging over the side.  If you're sitting, it's to
dangle over the edge or over your arm if your on the floor.  Get the idea
boy, pressure always or we can go back to that little room.  Any questions
shithead."

	"Sir, no Sir," responded 115, determined to avoid that room as much
as possible.

	"Murphy," Trainer barked, "get 115 into position for his welcoming
ceremonies, and let's have 104 and 99 out first to welcome him."

	With that 115 was hustled out to the center of the room and his
hands fastened in clamps over his head on the massive post, his arms having
to wrap around part of it.  Then his feet were spread a little around the
base of the post so his ass was stretched open and vulnerable.  115 didn't
bother begging this time, he knew it was a waste of energy and he needed to
conserve all he had.  Maybe knowing in advance had helped him prepare a
little, and maybe knowing that the ones who were about to fuck him didn't
want to made some difference.  For whatever reason, he just focused on
trying to relax and getting through this.

	"104 did you share with our new arrival how his coming would be
celebrated by our cumming," Trainer and the goons laughed as he asked the
question.

	"Sir, yes Sir, I told him what he could expect."

	"Goooood boy," Trainer said as if he were speaking to a dog.  "I
can always count on your soft heart.  So as a reward, you get to be the
first.  Now fuck your brother," he barked, "99, get 104 ready."

	With that 99 dropped to his knees and started playing with 104's
cock.  This was necessary because, as 115 would soon learn, no slave was
allowed to touch his own cock unless specifically given permission.  Some
had learned through long painful sessions in "the room," that the
consequenses were severe.  So to get 104 hard someone else had to play with
him.  He was nicely endowed and in no time with 99's fondling, rubbing,
sucking, he was hard and moving toward 115.

	"99, get 115 lubricated," Trainer again barked, "we don't want him
to think we do this like savages," he laughed with the others.  And 99
squatted behind 115, used his hands to stretch him open further, with 115
moaning slightly, and began to lick his asshole and get it ready.

	"Get with it 104, we haven't got all day," Trainer said.

	104 moved up against 115's ass and began to rub his cock between
the ass cheeks.  Then he slipped one hand around 115's abdomen, while 99
helped him get his dick to the opening of that asshole.  He was trying to
slowly push himself in when the first CRACK of the whip fell across his own
ass.

	"No reason to be so slow, we've got others waiting and daylight
burning cunt mouth, fuck him and fuck him good, right now," shouted
Trainer.

	With that 115 felt 104's dick plunge all the way in.  He gasped
again, still not use to the sensation or the pain.  104 put his arms around
115's chest and began to pump in earnest, in and out, as smoothly and as
quickly as he could.  He wanted to cum quickly so he retreated to his own
memory of his first time he had been with a man.  It had been so exciting,
so wonderful and thrilling to finally feel muscular arms around him.  It
was so long ago, but he remembered, and he was there again for a few
minutes as he methodically fucked this defenseless young man, whose only
crime had been attracting Watts' attention.

	Soon 104 was gasping himself, as he came in 115's ass.  He held him
for a minute, trying to comfort him and to hold on to his own memory, but
had to finally pull out.  That was when he came fully back to the present
and could hear the catcalls and whistles of the goons.  He stepped back
from 115's beautiful ass and went to his knees to get 99 ready for his
turn.  In a couple of minutes 99 was primed and ready for his turn.  99
wasn't as sensitive as 104, with no memories to fall back on.  His only
goal was to keep Trainer happy and off of him.  He was told to fuck this
guy, so be it, he didn't have anything against this guy and was sorry this
was happening to him, but 99 had learned, suvival is obedience.

	"Come on 99," Trainer chuckled, "I know you can show us how this
should be done.  Willis, get the next two out here," Trainer ordered, as he
remembered when 99 had been the one strapped to the post, and how far he
had come in his journey into slavery.  Trainer actually felt some pride in
what he had accomplished as he watched 99 obediently moving toward 115.

	And that's the way 99 strode up to that open ass, stuck his meat in
it with no assistance and began to fuck.  There was nothing emotional or
sensitive about it.  It was one of the few times that the slaves were
allowed to feel like men and experience this masculine pleasure.  99 wanted
to just feel good for a minute, and if the cost was the pain and
humiliation of 115, that was a price he was willing to pay.  99 wanted to
just feel good for a minute.  He fucked 115 as hard as he could, and 115
was responding with cries of pain.  Things are tough all over thought 99,
as he continued to slide his gorgeous cock in and out of that moist hole.
No one had to whip 99 to get him to perform, they just had to order it.
He'd been here longer than any of the other slaves, he'd learned.  He came
with gasps of pleasure, feeling like a man, but careful not to show that.
Finally he leaned against 115's back for a second and whispered, "sorry,
but thanks."

	Then came 101, a muscular black man with a huge cock.  The goons
kept whipping him across his ass while he was fucking, not because he
wasn't trying, but because every time the whip struck him, he would
involuntarily jump forward, crushing 115 against the post while pushing his
enormous dick even further into that ass.  115 was crying out in pain with
every CRACK of the whip because it accompanied that huge cock engorging his
asshole followed by the weight of his body pushing that cock even further
in his ass.  This was by far the biggest dick he had experienced in his two
day life as a slave, and when 101 came, 115 actually thought he could feel
himself filling with liquid.

	"Sorry Boss, but after I came I started to piss, what you want me
to do, Boss?"

	To the delight and laughter of the goons, one of them responded,
"well it's too late to do anything about it now boy, might as well finish
what you started."

	"Thanks Boss," he said as he stood relieving his bladder of his
morning piss into 115's ass chute.

	So 115 did feel himself filling, only it was with piss, not just
cum.  He was being torn apart by this guy's dick, and now this guy was
pissing in him.  He turned his head against the post and caught a glimpse
of 104.  He was standing in a cell with his dick between the bars, like all
the other slaves, but he had this look on his face, a look of stoic
encouragement.  115 just stared.

	Then came 107, a medium stature, well proportioned Latino.  His
dick was hard and ready, and 115 realized he had a ball weight like his own
suspended from his nuts.

	"Hey," shouted one of the goons, "don't get your balls all twisted
in a knot to fuck this guy," which brought a new round of laughter.

	The attractive man came up to 115's back, put one arm around him,
spit in his hand and lubricated his ass a little more, then whispered, "Lo
siento," into 115's ear as he slipped his cock into 115's ass.  He wasn't
as large as 101, and by comparison was relatively painless, or else 115 was
just beginning to lose some of his feeling.  107 pumped quickly and evenly,
and their ball weights did clang together to the delight of the goons, but
he didn't hurt him as badly.  115 didn't know a lot of Spanish, but he knew
what 107 had said to him, "I'm sorry."

	When 107 finally came, 112 was ready and in position to start.  He
was Anglo, but unlike 115, he had dark features with body hair that
accentuated his dark good looks.  His dick was hard and moist, and as he
slid it in that nice tight ass, he said to 115, "relax little brother, it's
a lot easier if you concentrate on relaxing."

	"Shut the fuck up," shouted Trainer, "are you his fucking
therapist?  Now fuck that ass like you mean it or you'll be in the special
room."

	112 practically tore into 115.  He was determined to come faster
than any of the others to avoid Trainer's wrath.  He even slapped 115's
butt a couple of time to empahsize his enthusiasm.  He couldn't tell if 115
was relaxing a little or not.  From the crying and yelling coming from him
it didn't seem so.  Well, he had tried to help and do what he could.  112
shot his load into that ass so hard that it started to drip piss.  When he
pulled out some started dripping down 115's legs.

	"You can take this man," he whispered into 115's ear as he stepped
away.

	Then 109 came around the post and 115 saw a truly beautiful black
man, actually not black, ebony.  But the thing he noticed was a shotgun
shell 109 was wearing around his neck.  He wan't as large as the other
black guy, but he still had a good size cock, and 115 felt every inch of it
as it pushed into his ass.  Then felt it moving in and out, filling and
emptying him in rapid succession.  It still hurt terribly and he was
moaning constantly, but it wasn't as bad as it had been.  112 had been
right.  He had to consciously try to relax his ass.  When he let those
muscles relax a little, the pain wasn't nearly as bad.

	109 was breathing hard and pushing firmly into 115's ass.  Each
stroke went the full length of his10" shaft.  He couldn't believe he was
doing this again, but he knew he had to or he was a dead man.  No more
screw-ups.  That was what Trainer had said.  He still had four days on his
probabion.  If he crossed Trainer again during that time, Trainer had said
he would take that shell, put it in a shotgun, put the shotgun in 109's
mouth and pull the trigger.  He was tired of his fuck-ups, and it was time
for him to submit.  So 109 was submitting, he was fucking this poor white
boy as hard as he could, and now he was CUMMIING!!  He always had big
loads, and this was no exception.  He pushed all the way in to get that
last shot.  Trainer looked on approvingly.

	As 109 pulled out and stepped back to his cell, 113 came around the
post.  He was large for an Asian, with well defined chest and abs.  He also
had a ball weight hanging from his nuts.  His dick wasn't as large as the
others, but he was a beautiful man.  He mounted 115, and for the first time
115 didn't moan as much.  The guy's dick just fit his ass perfectly.  Sure
it stretched it a little, but not like the others.  For the first time 115
had hope eventually this could be done without a lot of pain.  Again, he
concentrated on relaxing as the Asian increased his rhythm, and began to
breathe faster.  The metal weights clanged against each other, but the
loudest noise was the goons yelling, "Come on Chinc, we're gonna have to
strap a real man's dildo on you so you can pretend to be a real man, if you
don't start making him yell a little.

	115 then made an important discovery.  He realized that it was the
pain that these goons enjoyed inflickting as much as anything else.  The
pain emphasized their superiority, their power over the slaves, their
domination of the slaves.  The pain was the icing on the cake, and it was
damn important icing to these animals.  113 was fucking him as hard as he
could but it didn't hurt as much as the others, and that's what was
bothering the goons.  115 started moaning again, more loudly.  "Please, no
more," he cried.

	"Finally, it sounds like you're doing it right, slant eyes," the
goons jeered.

	As 113 came in 115's ass and rested slightly on his back, he
whispered, "Thank you!"

	Waiting by the post for his turn at the ass was 105, a dramatically
handsome man who looked middle eastern, Iranian or Egyptian, a slighter
build than many of the others, but still well proportioned.  Again, he had
a weight on his nuts, so the goons were once again cheering for a "concert"
from the bell choir.  One of them even yelled, "You know, if we lined these
guys up we could have those balls bounce off each other like those desk
toys you see."

	"Good thinking," laughed Trainer, "only why limit it to those four?
We have plenty of ball weights, we could line'em all up in a fuck train
then see if the balls work the same way as the toy.  Either way, it would
be a great sight," he continued to laugh, and made a mental note to do just
that for the Doc's enjoyment some evening.

	To the sound of all the laughter, 105 rammed his dick into the now
wet ass.  Infidels, he thought, debasing themselves was one thing, but
making him debase himself for their pleasure still infuriated him.  He
still hadn't become accustomed to this reality, and knew the consequences
could be grim if he couldn't adjust to this new reality soon.  Once again,
he wished for any kind of weapon that he might reek vengeance upon all of
them.  But all he could do was fuck this poor man for their pleasure.  Well
he would cum as quickly as possible and be done with this degradation,
though he knew other, even greater degradations awaited him in the days to
come.

	115 wasn't pretending anymore, this guy was fucking him as hard as
he'd been fucked so far.  His face was wet with tears as he begged to be
released from the post, and even though his ass had lost some of its
feeling, there was enough left to feel terrible.  He felt the pressure of
having those huge cocks in him, but the sharp pain of feeling his ass
tearing apart wasn't there anymore.  The sound of the metal balls was
humiliating as both their nut sacs were stretched and pulled by the motion
of the fucking.  He continued to cry and began pleading again, "enough,
please, it's enough, no more, please, I'll do anything you say."

	"What, before you've properly met all your new family, I wouldn't
hear of it," chuckled Trainer, "besides, 103 here has been waiting
patiently for his turn and look at that nice uncut dick that would fit so
nicely into your ass.  Indeed, he had a beautiful cock and low hanging
balls that went along with the rest of him.  He was a little taller than
most Latinos, with striking dark eyes.  Maybe 115 noticed the eyes so well
because 103 was looking at him so intently.  He dind't want to do this, but
he didn't have any more say in that than he'd had in anything else for
months.  Actually, he was anxious to find out from 115 what the date was
when he was captured, then he'd know how long he'd been here.

	He was thinking of that as he mounted 115.  He went fairly slowly,
but he began to pump that ass hard enough to arouse him to cum quickly.
He'd change places with 115 in a minute, he loved being fucked, always had,
but the rest of this shit was for the dogs.  He'd been a gentle man all his
life, but he would gladly kill now if he had the opportunity, starting with
Trainer and these other goons.  As his anger for what had been done to him
began to burn within him, he began to fuck with a vengeance.  At least this
hole was moist and tight.  He could feel it loosening a bit as he withdrew
then tightening again as he pushed himself back in.  In time, and with the
training he was sure to get here, 115 would learn to do just the opposite.
Holding on to the dick as it withdraws, heightening the pleasure for the
fucker, and opening up for the push that would bring the cock back in.
Yeah, these goons would make sure he learned all the finer points, they'd
have a great time teaching and perfecting them, the sons of bitches, and
with that, 103 shot his load into that nice ass, ropes of cum shooting
again and again.  He stayed in for a minute because it felt so good, but
then he had to pull out and go back to his cell.

	"Anybody for seconds," called out Trainer.  "I thought you ladies
would take a little longer than you did, so we still have some time here.
Surely at least one of you can give your little brother another welcoming
poke, so he'll know our excitement about him becoming part of our family is
genuine...........anyone?"

	109 knew what was being asked, he was being asked to prove himself,
to step up to the plate and show his devotion to being a slave.  He felt
the weight of the shotgun shell around his neck.  He'd fucked the poor guy
hard the first time, hoping that would be enough, but Trainer was asking
for more, and 109 knew he would have to respond.

	"Please Sir," said 109, "could I have one more shot at our new
brother."

	115 just lowered his head and continued to beg to be let down.  He
remembered that 109 was the hardest at fucking him the first time.  He
didn't want to go through that again.  He already had cum and piss dripping
out his hole, down his legs onto the floor.  How much more were these
bastards going to do to him.  He was prepared to do anything they told him,
things he'd never imagined now sounded okay to him if they would just let
him down and give him a chance to show his willingness to be obedient.
"Please Sir, I'll be a good slave.  I'll do whatever you tell me, please
let me down."

	Trainer just ignored 115 as he responded to 109, his true subject
for the moment.

	"Well there you are boys," Trainer laughed to the goons, "109 seems
to be the only one who's into the true spirit of things in welcoming our
new boy.  Let's hear it for 109 boys."

	There was ribald approval as one of the goons opened 109's cell and
told him to get his naked ass out there.  As he stepped out of his cell,
his beautiful body moving with the grace of a dancer, 109 kept his eyes
cast down as he'd been trained to do, not looking into the eyes of a real
man.  The goon slapped him hard on his ass and told him he was proud to
have participated in his training, and 109 remembered the night this guy
had fucked him over and over again while he'd beat 109's ass, "Now get up
there and really fuck this guy and make me really proud, cunt face!"

	"Please," 115 begged, "please let me go back to my cell, please
Sir."

	"Soon enough boy, but 109 here is going to show these other ladies
how a slave can perform when told to.  And, to show these ladies how hot
109 can be when he sets his mind to it, I've arranged a little
demonstration in the hope that 109 would step up to the plate."  With that,
Trainer picked up an ice chest that had been sitting near the entry of the
room.  "I want these ladies to see how hot a real darkie can be when his
life is on the line."

	Chuckling, Trainer opened the ice chest which contained just that,
chunks of ice.  "Boys, I want you to pack 115 ass with enough ice to cool
him off a bit, then we're gonna let 109 have a shot at him, and 109, I want
you to pull out while you're cumming so we can all see that cold cum
shooting from that hot dick of yours."  Trainer was still laughing, but his
voice had an edge to it that would cut steel.  109 knew what he had to do,
this was it, the test he'd been waiting for to prove himeself, and
hopefully get this shell from around his neck.  He watched as two of the
goons knelt down and started pushing pieces of ice up 115's ass.  The cold
was a much of a shock as being fucked ahd been as 115 began crying and
begging them to stop.  He could feel himself being filled with the ice, his
body began to shiver involuntarily as his body temperature began to cool a
little.

	Trainer walked over to 109 and grabbed him around the back of his
neck.  He began to pull 109 back and down so that 109's body began to arch
backwatrds before Trainer.  Trainer said very softly to 109, "Open boy,"
and 109, whose body had arched enough so that he was now looking up into
Trainer's face, opened his mouth for Trainer, knowing what would come next.
Then Trainere worked a big glob of spit in his mouth and began to let it
drool into 109's open mouth.  109 concentrated on not gagging, but rather
on letting this man drip his spit into his open and willing mouth.  It
seemed to last forever, but finally Trainer was finished and continued to
pull 109 back until he fell flat on his back on the floor.  As 109 lay
there on his back, knowing not to get up until he had permission, Trainer
took what was left in the ice chest and emptied it onto 109's cock and
balls.  he gasped as the cold caused his nut sac to shrivel up almost
immedieately.  Again, he knew better than to move or throw any of the ice
off until told to do so, so he remained on the floor with the ice covering
his crotch.

	"Well," said Trainer finally, "you gonna lay around all day, or you
gonna fuck this guy.  Get to it boy, let's see some real fucking, and to
show you that I'm really behind you in all of this, I'm going to let your
brother, 113, help get you back up to your high standards," Trainer
laughed, "he has 60 seconds to get you ready."

	The door to 113's cell opened and he practically flew to 109's
cock.  Several of the slaves understood what was happening right now, and
that 109's life could easily be at stake.  The beautiful Asian man was on
his knees, cupping 109's balls in his hands, gorging his mouth with 109's
dick, doing everything he could to stimulate 109's flacid cock and warm his
balls to get him hard enough to fuck that poor bastard.  113 was
remembering his first night in this Hell, it was 109 who had been put in
his cell, had held him, comforted him, encouraged him, and 113 remembered
that on the worst night of his life, it was 109 that had given him some
hope.  He would do everything in his power to help 109 now, and he
practically shouted with joy as he felt 109's dick begin to expand in his
mouth.  He quickly placed each of 109's balls in his mouth to warm them and
was then back on his dick.  Trainer began to get impatient, so 113 crawled
on his knees while 109 began to walk toward 115, all along continuing to
warm his dick with his mouth and saliva.

	As 109 came up behind 115, who was crying ang begging, he put his
arms around the post, pressing 115 against it, and 113 expertly guided his
now hard shaft into the dripping hole.  He pushed in and felt the ice
around his dick almost immediately.  It wasn't as cold, but it was still
there, and he had to really concentrate to stay hard.  Even though, he did
slow down for just a moment, that moment of hesitation, and that's when he
felt the first CRACK of the belt against his ass.  So this was how it was
going to be.  He knew it was going to be hard between the cold and the pain
of the belt, which came down again, to fuck this guy, but he also knew that
his life might very well depend on it.

	All the emotions building up in 109 were coming to a head.  He had
been enslaved against his will, he'd been beaten, humiliated, fucked and
used in every way imaginable, and it had all come down to this.  He felt
his blood flowing like fire in his veins, and through his cock, this was
it, he chose to live, even if it was as a slave, he wanted to live.  His
cock was raging now, with the cold, with the belt beating his ass, with it
all, his cock was raging because he finally understood what he must do.  He
rammed into this poor white boy with a force he'd never felt.  He didn't
hear the cries of 115 because his own ears were ringing with the blood
flowing through his body, and the desire to please Trainer.  He was a
slave, a toy for the pleasure of another man, and right now that man wanted
him to fuck this boy, so he would fuck him, he would fuck his way into his
new world.  It was too bad for the boy right now, but he would live through
this, and this was 109's road away from death and towards life.  Nothing,
not the cold, the belt, the cries of pain, his own lost desire for freedom,
would stop him now.

	This was the moment of transformation for him.  Until now he had
figured he could get out some way.  For months he'd lived a life he
wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, but he had survived with the hope of
getting out of here.  He now understood that wasn't going to happen, at
least not in the way he had hoped.  He was a slave, and there was literally
no hope of that circumstance changing.  But, he could be the most desirable
slave anyone could ever dream of........wasn't that what Trainer had said
to him on that first day?

	This was his new world, and the only hope he had of improving his
circumstances was to become desirable to a decent client.  No one wanted to
buy a slave with a shot gun shell around his neck.  All the clients knew
what that meant........problems here, take at your own risk, will never
really be a toy for your pleasure.........no wonder they had passed him by
on previous occassions.  If fucking this guy was the cost of getting this
thing off his neck.......then this guy was gonna get fucked, and good.  He
continued to feel the warmth of his own cock as it began to swell between
his legs even more, realizing he was getting close.

	109 began to chant, "Yes Sir, glad to fuck this slave for you Sir,
yes Sir."  Even the goons noticed a change coming over this recalcitrant
slave.  The beating of his ass only seemed to excite him more, which
excited the goons more, so they beat it harder.  Even with the increased
pain on his ass, 109 was close.  He rammed himself in again and again as
hard and far as he could until he could feel the release starting to churn
in his nuts.  He pulled out just as the chism was coursing through his
veined cock and shooting out his piss slit.......he shot cord after cord of
hot juice all over that white boy's ass.

	"Yes Sir," he shouted, "just like you wanted, Sir," and he finished
cumming and leaned against 115's back.

	Trainer was strangely quiet.  He looked at 109, knowing what had
just happened.  It had taken awhile, but 109 had finally been broken, and
the pieces had come back together as a slave.  Trainer cracked the slimmest
of smiles, not really noticeable to anyone, because he knew he had won,
again.  There would still be more training, but 109 was now a slave.  He,
Trainer, had won, and this kind of power was truly the opiate he sought
because the high was like no other.  He had made this man, a slave, just as
he would to the rest of these pieces of shit in these cells, and just as he
would to 115 who was weeping quietly hanging from the post, only 115 didn't
know it yet, and Trainer found that delicious as well.  He would be the one
to reveal that reality to him.

	Trainer called out to 109, "get over here slave," and 109 responded
immediately, standing in front of Trainer with his hands behind his back,
his legs spread and his head bowed slightly, just as he had been taught.

	"On your knees slave," was all Trainer said and without changing
any aspect of his position, 109 fell to his knees.  Trainer reached down to
his pants and pulled his massive cock out and said coldly, "present that
shitty face of yours boy," and 109 raised his face to Trainer's cock and
opened his mouth.  Trainer began to piss all over 109's face and into his
mouth.  He seemed to piss forever, but 109 held his place, never trying to
avoid a single drop, swallowing any that came into his mouth without
closing his mouth.  He thought he would gag at first because he hated this
more than anything, but 109 continued to allow this man to use him as a
human toilet.  He was determined to keep Trainer happy with him, no matter
what it took.

	"Well," Trainer said, "it's not surprising that you could take my
piss because everyone knows my piss is like Champaign, but that's not
necessarily true of the rest of the men here.  Gentlemen, I think all of
you could use a little relief right about now before we get on with our
day, and seein as how 109 is already in position, I hope each of you will
avail yourself of this 'golden' opportunity."  Trainer chuckled as he put
himself back in his cod peice, but his eyes weren't laughing as they locked
on 109's.  109 knew his test wasn't over, but he also knew now that he
would do whatever he had to in order to be chosen by a Master and get out
of this place.

	The other goons laughed with ribald toilet humor as they lined up
to spray 109 with their piss.  Each in turn wet him down and filled him up.
Through it all, 109 held his position, never moving, never closing his
mouth, never avoiding a single drop of piss.  He swallowed as fast as he
could when he had to, and held his face vulnerable to each goon.  He began
to hope that this would end before Trainer decided to have all the slaves
use him for their morning piss, but he knew there was nothing he could do
but hold his position until told otherwise.  This was it, he was going to
live.

	Meanwhile, a couple of the goons that had finished using 109 were
assigned to take 115 down from the post.  As per Trainer's instructions the
rest of his morning would be spent having his permanent training collar
attached.  115 didn't know it yet, but the training collar was the primary
means of control and inescapability in this slave farm.  Powered by small
long lasting batteries, it provided a painful electrical charge by remote
control, but also had a small explosive charge in part of it.  If the
collar was taken beyond a certain distance of the farm, or a portable
transformer, the charge was ignited with tragic results for its wearer.
But all 115 knew right now was that they had stopped fucking him and he was
grateful.

	The other slaves got ready for whatever hell Trainer had devised
for them on this day.  Some still hoped for an opportunity to get away, but
most just hoped it wouldn't be too painful.  Many of them were becoming
slaves.........



Once again, thanks for all the suggestions and great comments.  Please
continue to let me know your reaction to the story.  I really enjoy hearing
from you guys, and as always remember, I'm looking for a new submissive.
Anyone interested?  Let me hear from you if you are, and if you think I can
be creative with my writing, wait till you personally experience my
creativity......lol.

nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com