Date: Fri, 2 Jun 2023 19:23:02 +0000 (UTC)
From: "slaveboy22222@yahoo.com" <slaveboy22222@yahoo.com>
Subject: Straight Man Slave 3

	At 6:30 the next morning, I woke up feeling a gentle pricking in my
balls. I tried to open my eyes, and couldn't see anything. Then I realized
that my hands were cuffed behind my back, and that I was laying on another
person. Within a few seconds, aided by a slightly more insistent pricking
in my balls, I remembered where I was - at Sir's house, in his bed,
blindfolded. Immediately after that, I remembered his instructions to me
the night before: I was supposed to wake him up by sucking on his cock. Of
course, I couldn't see where his cock was, but I figured that was part of
the fun for him.

	So I slid my body down until I'm close to where his cock had to be,
pulling the covers back with my teeth as I went. I used my mouth to find
his cock, first feeling his thigh, then his hip, then working my way over
to his soft cock. I put my mouth around it and started to suck, with as
much enthusiasm as I could muster, because by now the shocks to my balls
were becoming rather more insistent, and were starting to be painful. Soon
Sir's cock was rock hard.

	I was getting a little more of his cock down my throat, but I was
still gagging occasionally, and then I felt Sir's hand on my head. "Good
boy, keep working it." I thought that meant he had turned the alarm off;
after all, he'd clearly been woken up. But then I felt another shock, which
caused me to yelp in surprise as much as pain. Sir laughed, as I got back
to work on his cock. After a few more minutes of me sucking him, along with
several more minutes of painful shocks to my balls, Sir pulled me off of
his cock. "That's enough, boy. We'll save that for breakfast. I trust you
can make scrambled eggs?"

	"Yes, Sir," I said, and nodded.

	Sir took the blindfold off and said, "Good. Three for me, two for
you. Everything you need is in the kitchen."

	I got off the bed and crawled to the kitchen, where I found a pan
and the eggs. I whipped them up, and then cooked them, making my best
scrambled eggs. While I was doing that, Sir walked into the kitchen,
dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He sat at the table and said, "Real talk
right now, boy. Are you enjoying yourself?"

	I nodded. "Yes, Sir. Very much so. You treat me exactly the way I
want to be treated."

	"Do you like everything I do with you?"

	"I mean, in a perfect world I wouldn't have to suck your cock, or
get fucked by you. It just...it's not something that I enjoy. But...I know
that you like it. And I'm a slave, so it's not really about what I like or
don't like. I like that I can serve you. I like the fact that you know how
to put and keep me in my place. I know that there are going to be things I
don't like."

	"That's a fair answer, boy," Sir said. "You're right, I like having
my cock down your straight faggot throat. I like fucking your tight
straight ass. And I won't stop. But I appreciate that you don't like those
acts for themselves, the way that I might if I were hooking up with another
guy."

	"Yes, Sir," I said, not knowing how else to respond.

	The eggs were finished. Sir pointed to the cabinet with the
plates. I took two out, and put the eggs on the plates, apportioning them
roughly as Sir had indicated. I grabbed two forks, and brought the plates
to the table. I set one in front of Sir, and prepared to sit in the chair
next to him, when he shook his head. Sir picked my plate up and set it on
the ground. "You should assume that you're going to eat like a dog when
you're with me."

	"Yes, Sir," I said, a little disappointed. As I ate (like a dog, as
Sir had indicated, so I left my fork on the table), I reflected on
that. Why was I disappointed? I mean, Sir could have me eat any way he
wanted. At least he was giving me actual food, after all. And I still got
to eat. Sure, it was embarrassing, but the only other person who knew was
Sir, and he'd pissed in my mouth the night before, so I wasn't going to be
shocking him.

	Sir and I finished eating at roughly the same time. "Alright, boy,
I need a piss, and then it's going to be time to work. Crawl to the
bathroom." Great. Speaking of drinking piss, he was going to make me do it
again. I promised to myself that I'd do better this time.

	This time, there was less ceremony. Sir didn't even say
anything. He just walked into the bathroom behind me, put his cock up
against my mouth, and when I opened my lips, he let it go. I had to guzzle
the piss down to keep up, but I managed to do it.

	"Good job, fag boy. I assume your shoes are in your car. Go put
them on," Sir said as I swallowed the last drops of his piss and he shook
his dick off into my mouth. I crawled out of the bathroom to the front
door. I opened the door and stepped outside, walking across the ground to
my car (crawling would have been very painful, with the gravel, and Sir
hadn't told me I had to). I took my shoes out of the front seat, and
slipped them on.

	"You're going to work outside for me today, boy. Fortunately for
you, the trees keep the neighbors from seeing anything, so you don't need
to wear any clothes while you're out here. But first, let's get you ready."
Sir was walking out of his house, carrying several items that I knew were
destined to be put on me. First, he held up a ball gag. I opened my mouth
so he could slide it in, then he buckled it behind my head. Next, Sir put
cuffs around each of my wrists, and then used heavy chains to attach them
to my collar. I could only move my arms to just below my belly button. Then
Sir bent me over my car and lubed my asshole up. He had a hook with a ball
on the end that he inserted into my ass (not without some effort, and
grunting and gasping from me). Then he had me stand up, and tied the hook
to the backside of my collar, pulling it tight, so that if I bent over, I'd
pull the hook up into my ass.

	"Alright, boy. First I need you to walk around the yard and pick up
sticks. Get everything that will hurt my mower. Make a pile on the edge of
my patio." Sir pointed me in the direction of his yard, towards the side of
his house, and smacked my ass. I immediately set to work, systematically
combing the yard for sticks of any real size. Of course, any time I found
one, I had to bend over to get it, essentially slow-fucking myself with the
anal hook. When my hands were full, I walked to Sir's back patio,
essentially a concrete pad, and made a pile of sticks on the edge of the
patio.

	Since the work wasn't exactly mentally taxing, I didn't have to
focus on the task to do it effectively. So, I thought about where I was. I
was outside of another man's house, doing a task a child could do. Worse, I
was naked, and not by choice; that man wasn't letting me have clothes. And
not only was I naked, but my hands were cuffed, with heavy chains that were
starting to get painful to carry around, and every time I had to bend over,
I fucked myself with an anal hook that was tied to my collar. And I wasn't
even able to suffer this humiliation by myself, but Sir was sitting on the
porch, sipping on a drink, watching me.

	When I'd finally combed the yard, Sir called me over to him. He
removed the gag, and offered me a cup of water, which I eagerly drank. Then
Sir replaced the gag and said, "There's a wheelbarrow in the garage. Use
that to take the sticks to the burn pile. You can see the path through the
trees." He pointed, and I could see a worn-down track leading into the
trees around his house. I followed his instructions.

	When I returned and put the wheelbarrow away, Sir asked me if I
needed to use the restroom. I did, so I nodded. "Crawl into the yard. Lift
a leg, and piss away," Sir said with a chuckle. Fuck, not only was I
crawling at his heels like a dog, and eating like a dog, but now I was even
pissing like a dog. But I needed to pee, so I got down on all fours,
pulling the hook tight. I crawled a few steps into the yard, and then
lifted my leg into the air. While I hung my head in shame, I pissed out and
away from myself, like a dog marking his territory. Then I crawled back to
Sir.

	"Such a good slave boy," he said, rubbing my hair. Now I was even
being shown affection like I was a dog? "Stand up," Sir said. When I was
standing, Sir removed the hook from my ass, and unchained my wrists. He
wrapped his fingers around my balls, and pulled me behind him into his
garage. He led me to his riding mower, which had a dildo sitting up on the
seat. Sir guided me up onto the mower, and then guided me onto the dildo. I
went slowly, because it was a large dildo, and Sir didn't force the
issue. But once it was at the entrance to my hole, Sir pushed me down so
that it penetrated me as I gasped and groaned.

	Once I was seated on the mower, my ass impaled on the dildo, Sir
removed the ball gag. He offered me another cup of water, which I
drank. Then he said, "Since you won't be moving around, I think this is a
good time to train your throat while you get some work done." He put a ring
gag in my mouth, then put a dildo into my mouth through the gag. It was
just long enough that I started to gag on it when he secured it to the
ring, so that it was stuck right at the start of my gag reflex.

	"Relax your throat. Now listen," Sir said, as he gave me
instructions for how to operate the mower. I listened to him, and when he
backed away, I started it up and proceeded to mow his yard. As I drove, I
felt the mower's vibrations deep in my ass, while I was occasionally
gagging on the fake cock that was buried in my throat. As I neared the end
of the yard, though, I realized that I was hardly choking on the cock
anymore. Sir's training method of prolonged forced gagging was apparently
effective. But still, to let another man do this to me could only mean that
I had well and truly given up any semblance of control that I had, and that
I was totally his to command.

	Once I was done with the yard, Sir motioned for me to drive the
mower back into the garage. I parked it back in its place, then Sir helped
me to climb off of the dildo. He took the cock out of my mouth, and then
removed the gag. "How are you feeling, boy?" he asked.

	"I'm feeling alright, Sir. A little tired, but nothing too
bad. Mostly embarrassed," I replied.

	"What do you have to be embarrassed about, boy? That a straight fag
like you spent the morning naked in another man's yard, working for no
reward other than what I might feel like giving you, and ended it violated
in both of your holes? Is that why you felt embarrassed?"

	I didn't know what to say, so I blushed, nodded my head, and
quietly said, "Yes, Sir, pretty much."

	Sir laughed. "I bet." He patted my cheek affectionately, and added,
"My poor little embarrassed straight fag boy. Wait until you see what I
have planned for you this afternoon. Now crawl into the house. It's
lunchtime."

	I got onto all fours and crawled into the house behind Sir. He sent
me to the front door to take off my shoes. When I crawled back into the
dining room, he had me kneel and put my hands behind my back. He used a
length of rope to tie them there. He walked into the kitchen and returned
with one plate. I didn't say anything, but I must have given him a look,
because he laughed at me and said, "I gave you breakfast. I'll give you
dinner. You don't need lunch. But don't worry, I've got meat for you to
swallow."

	I knew what that meant. Sir set his plate down, dropped his shorts,
and then sat down. I crawled underneath the table and between his
legs. Then I took his cock into my mouth, and worked on it. Since Sir was
eating, I didn't think he wanted a vigorous blow job, and I was right. I
put to good use the extended gag range I had developed that morning, taking
more of his cock than I'd ever been able to do.

	Eventually, Sir stopped eating. I picked up my pace, but Sir
lightly smacked the top of my head and said, "Slow back down, boy. I'll
tell you if I want more than that." I didn't respond, because my mouth was
full of his cock, but I took the message to heart, and slowed back down.

	After a few minutes, Sir said, "Ok, that's enough. I'd rather blow
that up your ass later." Oh, god, he was so casual with fucking me, and he
had every reason to be. Of course I wasn't going to resist or stop him. Of
course I was going to let him use me for his pleasure.

	Sir stood up and beckoned for me to follow him. I crawled behind
him back to his dungeon. Immediately after I entered, Sir helped me to
stand up, then placed a blindfold on me. I felt him put leather cuffs
around my wrists and ankles. Then my ankles were being pulled apart, first
my right, and then my left. They were soon attached with chains to
something, probably the floor. My legs were spread obscenely wide, and I
couldn't do anything to close them, or to protect my privates (and yes, the
irony of calling them my privates after all I'd done was not lost on me -
they certainly weren't private when it came to Sir). Then my wrists were
chained together, and they were pulled over my head, so that my body was in
a kind of inverted Y. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it
wasn't awful. The biggest strain was on my inner thighs, which were
stretched out pretty good.

	I felt Sir's hands around my balls, and knowing how vulnerable I
was, a slight shiver ran through me. That shiver was justified, as it
turned out, because Sir started to squeeze. And he kept squeezing, always
just a little bit harder, until I soon screamed in pain and tried to
contort my body away from him. That was a bad idea. Not only could I not
really go anywhere, he had such a tight hold on my testicles that when I
pulled away, even slightly, it hurt even more.

	Sir let go. I couldn't help whimpering, "What did I do, Sir?"

	He chuckled. "You're my slave, that's what you did. If you give me
a reason, I will hurt you, but I don't need a reason to hurt my little fag
boy. I decided to spend the afternoon torturing you. You didn't do anything
wrong. In fact, you've been a very good slave boy today. But I feel like
hurting you, so...you're going to hurt. That's the life of a slave boy."

	I nodded in understanding. Well, at least I wasn't being punished,
but that wasn't going to make it hurt any less. Sir patted my right cheek
so hard it almost felt like I was being lightly slapped. "Good boy, accept
your place as my slave faggot. You don't get to decide how you get used,
whether you get fucked, tortured, or thrown in a cage. That's my
decision. And if you take me up on my offer to become my full slave
tomorrow, that will be your life." I knew he was right, and I already knew
I was going to accept. Not because I didn't have a choice. I most
definitely had a choice. And I knew I was going to make the pathetic choice
to turn my straight body over to be another man's plaything, because I
wanted to be owned so badly.

	I heard Sir walking around the room, and could only wait for what
else he had planned. When he returned to me, I felt him wrap something
around my balls, and then I felt a gentle tug on my balls. Apparently, Sir
had wrapped a parachute around my balls, and hung a weight from it. That
wasn't so bad. The next weight wasn't so bad either. By the time he got the
fifth weight on, though, my balls were very stretched, and I could feel the
dull aching pain up in my gut. Then Sir started to swing the parachute and
the weights back and forth. I had to groan in pain.

	Why was I here? Why did I let another man hurt me in my most
sensitive spot? What was I getting out of it? Sir spent several minutes
swinging my balls around, apparently enjoying himself, so I had time to
think about the answers to those questions. What was I getting out of it? I
guess in one way the answer was simple: I was getting owned. I was getting
used. I was reduced to a slave, a plaything; a useful plaything, maybe, but
still a plaything. And as a slave, I felt...right. I belonged here. I was
of use when I was pleasing somebody else, even if I was pleasing them by
giving them my body as a canvas for their sadistic desires.

	I suddenly realized Sir was standing in front of me. I could feel
him standing directly in front of me, so close that my face was practically
touching his chest. He bent down and whispered in my ear, "Would your balls
like a break, boy? Kiss me, and I'll give these faggot torture sacks a
break."

	I had to kiss him? I don't know why that was the thing that made me
uncomfortable, but it did. Kissing is intimate. A blowjob, a fucking, those
aren't intimate. When I suck Sir's dick, I'm not being intimate with him,
I'm serving him. I'm giving him something he wants. When Sir fucks me, I'm
giving him something he wants. When Sir tortures my cock and balls, when he
parades me around his house naked, I'm letting him have something he
wants. There's no equality. There's no desire. But a kiss...that's
intimate. A kiss says, "I like you." And that's not how I felt about
Sir. Our relationship wasn't based on liking each other, but on him using
me, and that's how I wanted it.

	But my balls needed a break. They were in pain. And so I kissed
Sir. I put my lips on his and kissed him. And yes, it was weird as fuck. I
didn't enjoy the kiss, not the way I enjoy kissing a woman. Sir's lips
weren't soft, they weren't inviting, they weren't smooth. But I kissed him
anyway. And as I did, I felt Sir lift the weight and give some relief to my
sore testicles. Sir kept kissing me, so I kept kissing him back.

	Finally, after we were done making out, Sir dropped the weight. As
it hit the edge of its chains, and wanted to keep following gravity to the
floor, but couldn't, my balls took force of the drop, and I screamed. Not
only was I not ready for it, and hadn't been able to brace myself, but the
sensation itself was so intense and painful that I couldn't stop myself. I
screamed.

	"Aaaaauuuuggggghhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I screamed.

	Sir laughed. As the pain subsided a bit, I realized that the kiss
hadn't been about liking each other, even though that's what a kiss
normally meant. It was a perversion of that. It was a way of debasing me,
of wiping away who I used to be. It took a form of intimacy that I would
never have with Sir and twisted it. And it had been about taking me off my
guard, so that he could cause me more pain.

	After his dirty trick, I could tell that Sir's cock was rock hard,
and he decided it was time to use that. So he untied my cuffs and led me
back to the spanking bench I'd been on the night before. He strapped me to
that, and I felt him putting lube into my hole. There was no playing
around; Sir immediately put his cock into my asshole, and started to fuck
me. He was almost gentle about it, though. He thrust deep, but not hard. He
was taking his time, savoring my hole. And the whole time, he talked to me
in a friendly, conversational tone, which made his words so much more
jarring.

	"Mmmm, yeah, boy, I do love your faggot hole. I love putting my
cock, my big, manly cock, inside your straight faggot ass.You know that's
what you're going to be, a straight faggot. You can't help yourself. You
need to be my slave. And I'm going to make you gay, even if you think
you're straight. You're going to suck cock. You're going to fuck
cock. You're going to worship cock. You're going to the gayest little
straight faggot anybody ever heard of. And you're going to be all mine.

	"I'm taking my time here, because this feels so good, sliding my
cock in and out of your boy pussy. I want to keep feeling it for a long
time. I want to fuck you with my big cock for a long time. And you enjoy
it. You say you're straight, but your cock is hard, just like you were a
little faggot. That's what you are, my little straight faggot slave.

	"Your asshole is so good. I'm going to blow my cum right up in
there. How many times have I cum since the other night? How many times have
you cum? None, right? And you aren't cumming tonight, either, little
bitch-boy. And you know why? Because faggot orgasms don't matter. Maybe
you'll get a chance to cum tomorrow, but tonight? No, because I don't feel
like letting you, and you don't get any say in it, because you're just a
slave boy who doesn't get to make choices anymore."

	Sir accentuated that lack of choice by stroking my cock just three
or four times and stopping again, despite the fact that by now, I was
desperate for physical pleasure. And I wasn't going to cum tonight, either?
Fuck!

	Sir continued in the same vein for quite some time. Occasionally he
would stroke me for a very brief time, but he never let me get more than
token pleasure out of my (admittedly very hard) dick. Finally, I heard his
breathing get more ragged, and he started fucking me slightly faster, and
in moments Sir said, "I'm cumming in your ass, fag boy!" I felt his cock
spurt a load of hot cum into my hole.

	Sir pulled his cock out of my ass and walked to my front. "Open up,
boy. My cock needs cleaned off," he ordered. I really had no choice but to
open my mouth and accept his cock, cleaning his cum and lube off. It was
disgusting. Not only had that cock just been in my shithole, but the lube
was shockingly bitter and unpleasant. Once his cock was cleaned off to his
satisfaction, Sir stood next to me and used a couple of fingers to scoop up
cum that had leaked out of my ass. He fed that to me, which didn't taste
any better. He continued to do that, even slipping his finger inside my
asshole, feeding me his lube- and ass-flavored cum, which I choked down,
gagging at the awful taste.

	Sir untied me from the bench and helped me stand up. "That was a
good fuck, boy. And now that you've had a snack, I've worked up an
appetite, so I'm going to start working on dinner. You are going to do some
more cleaning. I think I'm going to have you vacuum the carpet."

	"Yes, Sir," I replied, glad to have something that wasn't
inherently painful or humiliating to do. He showed me where the vacuum
cleaner was, and smacked my ass hard as he walked away.

	I immediately got down to vacuuming. I started in the living room,
moved to the hallway, and into his bedroom. I was very thorough, making
sure I didn't see a speck of dust or dirt anywhere on the floor. When I was
finished, I put the vacuum away and walked into the kitchen, where I saw
that Sir was halfway through his dinner, and my plate was down on the
floor.

	"Finally, boy. Your dinner has been getting cold," he
said. Clearly, the cleanliness of his floors was more important to him than
whether I enjoyed my food. I dropped onto my knees and crawled to my
plate. I ate without the benefit of using my hands, like Sir had indicated
I should. By the time I finished, Sir was long done. "Clean up from lunch
and dinner. And clean off your face, boy, you look ridiculous. Then come to
the living room. I've got a nice, relaxing evening planned."

	I hoped it wasn't relaxing like last night was relaxing, when he
made me stand stock-still while he used me for a footrest. Because that
wasn't very relaxing for me, and I was starting to think that maybe I could
use a little bit of relaxing. Regardless, the first thing that needed done
was to clean up, which I did quickly but thoroughly.

	Once I had cleaned everything up, including my face, I crawled into
the living room to see Sir sitting naked on the couch, tossing a butt plug
absentmindedly into the air while he watched TV. I crawled up to him, and
he instructed me to stay where I was. I thought I was going to be a
footstool again, but he took the opportunity of me being bent over to lube
my ass up and put the plug inside me.

	Then he said, "Ok, boy, I want to watch some TV to relax, and I
want to get my balls sucked while I'm sitting here. Not my cock. I'll save
that for later, because I want to fuck you again before bed. But until I'm
ready for that, you're going to worship my balls. You'll be on the floor,
but I'm not going to tie you up because, well, a fag like you doesn't need
tied up when there are balls to suck on. Be in whatever position is
comfortable for you, as long as you're being quiet and sucking on my
balls."

	"Yes, Sir," I said, quietly, unsure about this. I'd never really
thought about worshiping balls separate from the cock they were attached
to. But I figured that I'd learn. Sir slid forward so that his balls were
hanging over the edge of the sofa. I kneeled in front of him, sitting back
on my heels as comfortably as I could manage, and got started.

	I started out by kissing his balls. He wanted them worshiped, after
all, and that seemed like a good way to get myself used to them. Then I
started to lick them. They were slightly salty with Sir's sweat from the
day. Soon, I was taking one of them in my mouth at a time, and sucking
gently. Judging by Sir's cock, he was enjoying my attention, but he didn't
say anything, just silently watched TV. A week ago, I would have been
disgusted by myself right now. Sucking another man's balls after he had
spent an afternoon torturing me and fucking me? That's...I mean, it's
completely degrading. It's incredibly low, especially when you consider
that that man was functionally ignoring me. It was so routine for him that
he wasn't even paying attention.

	Despite my humiliation, I kept sucking Sir's testicles,
occasionally getting both of them into my mouth at once. My jaw was getting
sore, and I was starting to get tired and lose focus when Sir turned off
the television. "Alright, boy. Crawl behind me to the bedroom. I'm going to
fuck you and then we're going to bed."

	I obediently crawled behind Sir. Back in his bedroom, he set me up
like he had the previous evening, with my hands cuffed behind my back and a
strap around my balls to deliver an electric shock. Then he had me lay on
my back, with my ass at the edge of the bed. Sir pulled my legs up into the
air, and pulled the plug out of my asshole. He replaced the plug with his
cock, and began pumping into me. This was not a slow fucking like he had
done earlier. No, this was rougher. Not brutal, not even really painful,
but definitely not as comfortable. Sir said nothing as he fucked me, but
just thrust in and out, over and over, using my hole.

	Just before he came, he pulled out of my asshole, and sprayed his
cum all over my front, including onto my face. Sir finished off by rubbing
his cock, milking a couple more spurts out, then he said, "Clean my cum off
of you, boy. Use a finger and your mouth. I'll be back in a second." It
wasn't easy to reach all of the cum, but the chain between the cuffs was
long enough that with some twisting and contorting, I was able to get the
cum off of me. I had to lick it off of my fingers, and I realized that I
really was so pathetic that I was cleaning another man's cum off of me with
my tongue.

	When Sir came back, he laid down in the bed and went to sleep with
me in his arms. After all that he'd put me through, I was surprised to find
myself grateful for this show of affection. I was exhausted, and unlike
last night, I quickly fell asleep.