This story takes place in the same alternative universe as my other slave stories. It's basically our world, but with legalized "indenturement". Do not read if you are not interested in extreme stories and situations.
All characters are over eighteen and you must be over eighteen to read this story. It is fiction. Slavery is wrong. Consent matters. Never do anything like this in real life.
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Part 3
Jason
Master Menlo spent three hours that night showing me my place as a slave in his household. Taking from me my humanity. Showing me I was nothing but property. I would try to forget that three hours for the rest of my life, but I never would. Despite the porn on and the sounds of the slave girl being fucked, Mr. Menlo didn't start with using me for his own sexual release. He made me beg to get fucked before that happened. He had me turn around and show off my outfit. He told me the clothes showed off my slave ass very nicely. Then he told me to hold still. He went to one of the racks in the room and returned with a knife. He put it to my face and I felt the blade cool on my skin. Then he said, "Hold still." And he cut my jersey off me. He cut the top of it actually and then tore the rest off with his hands as I did my best to remain still. Then it was my baseball pants. He massaged my ass through them. It was the first time I saw him truly smile. Then he cut them off me as well. They were thick material and it took longer than the jersey. I was terrified the blade would cut into my flesh. I thought he would cut off my jock too or do something with my shoes. Instead, he started with the table. After his speech about castrating me, I was sort of in shock. When he rolled the table out and had me climb on, I didn't hesitate. It was like one of those exam tables you get on at a doctor's office that is more like a bed. Maybe it was a hospital bed. All I know is he had me lay on my back and lift my arms above my head. He tighted a cinch buckle thing around my stomach and then one around my legs. Then he strapped my arms into cuffs or something. I couldn't quite see above my head or move much. Then he broke me. He started out by swiveling me around so I could watch the porn. He brought my jock down to my knees. Then his big meaty hand wrapped around my dick. He poured lube on my cock and said, "You will cum when I want you to cum and only when I want you to cum." I'd heard of edging, but nothing like this. He brought me to the brink over and over and again, jerking my dick fast and slow and hard and easy. He rubbed my balls and pulled them down. And everytime I got close to cumming and my body started to arch, he squeezed my balls so hard I screamed. And he made me repeat that phrase. I must have said, "I will cum when you want me to cum and only when you want me to cum, master" a million times. And then he let me. He was jerking me and just said, "Now." And my dick exploded. After the holding back, I shot buckets of cum. It went all over my stomach and face and even on my arms. It was hot and sticky and I couldn't wipe it away. He didn't wipe it off me with a towel either. He gathered my cum into a container with a scraping device and said, "This will make Menlo Farms some beautiful new slaves." Then he repeated the process. Over and over. I came once without his permission. I tried to stop, but I couldn't. His response was to pour hot wax on my cock and balls, peel it off, then cover me with a burning cream. I burned for fifteen minutes. He made me beg before he wiped it off. And when he did, he said it wasn't because I begged. It was because my begging had begun to bore him. My balls hurt from having shot so much cum and being squeezed so much. I saw his dick for the first time about an hour into the breaking. He casually pulled his cock out, told me to open wide, and began to piss. I tried to swallow it all. I really did. But I gagged at the bitter taste and some of it spilled out of my mouth. He wasn't going slow like the African and I couldn't keep up the swallowing while fighting the urge to throw up. He told me after he shook his dick off on my face and wiped his hands in my hair, "This isn't part of the breaking slave, I just needed to piss." Then he did something odd. To me, at the time, it was odd. I realize now he had a pattern to how he broke slaves. He gave me a choice. The first of two during the session. He asked, "Would you like to amuse your master with your pain or show your subservience on your knees?" I didn't care what the knees option meant. I wasn't too naive to realize he probably meant a blowjob. I begged to show my master subservience. And he released me. The next thirty minutes were awkward. All he said was "On your knees and show me you know your place." I knelt before him, the porn still playing in the background, and I reached for his pants. He grabbed my hands and said, "You haven't earned the right to suck my cock yet, slave. Show me you know your place." He wasn't dressed formally like when I saw him before. He was in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and fancy italian tennis shoes. I knelt in front of him, unsure what to do. And then he moved his foot closer to me. His tennis shoes were filthy. It had rained earlier and they had gotten muddy. I looked around for a washcloth. He said, "You have my permission to use your mouth below my knees, slave." And I realized what I had to do. I lowered my head to his shoes, covered with mud, and I started to lick. He gave no indication if this was what he wanted or if he was enjoying it. All he did was watch the porn and occasionally check his phone. At one point, he was talking to my brother. I heard him tell him everything was going great and I was learning everything I'd need for the inspection. I wanted to scream out to my brother to save me. I didn't. I swallowed the mud and the dirt as it came off on my tongue in chunks. I didn't know if it was all just mud either. The estate had every animal known to man. It probably took twenty minutes for the shoes to shine. My tongue felt raw. Mr. Menlo didn't say a word. He just lifted his feet a little and kicked his shoes off to the side of the room. Then he lowered his feet back to being in front of me. His feet were men's feet. I had a period where I jerked off looking at girls feet. This wasn't like that. Mr. Menlo was probably a size 12 in tennis shoes. His feet were big and sweaty and hairy and stank from not wearing socks. But I knew what I needed to do. I lowered my head down, still wearing just my jock, cleats, and socks. And I worshipped his hairy feet like they belonged to the hottest girl in the world, instead of a fat old man. I lifted his left foot up and licked the bottom of his foot. Every inch. Then I set it back on the floor and and I lowered my head to the ground. I could only imagine what I looked like to him. My butt up in the air as I knelt and tongued between his toes. Then I sucked every toe, ignoring the taste and the feel of them as much as I could. And then I did the other foot. When he still didn't say anything, I began to massage his feet. After a few minutes of that, he stood. He patted me on the head like I was a dog and said, "Good boy." Then he pointed to a circle on the floor. I moved to it and he came over. It was the second time I saw him smile. He was feeling my body all over and saying things like: Such a ripe little slave...fit...tight little stomach ..your owner will be very lucky when you return home trained...you're going to be such a good slut ..a tight little fuck..and such a pretty mouth for a boy... Then he lifted my arms up again. They were cuffed to chains in the ceiling that forced me to stand on my tippy toes. Then he walked back over to his chair and turned it so he had a better view of me. And then he looked at his phone again and hit a button. And the collar went off. I thought before that that getting shocked would just kill you. Not with this collar. The voltage adjusted somehow to keep you in pain without it being lethal. No matter how long it went on. He rang a bell fifteen minutes in. I was thrashing and crying and screaming and every nerve felt on fire. A servant came in carrying several buckets and set them on the floor. Mr. Menlo casually touched the pad and the voltage stopped. I started begging. Pleading for it to stop. He walked over to my now sweat drenched body and casually flung the first bucket of water onto me. Then he sat back down. The water just made the shock worse. Like liquid fire all over me. This happened three times before he said, "If you accept your place and beg me to train you as a bed slave, this will stop. Or I can keep going. It's your choice. I don't believe in using the unwilling." He didn't let me answer then. He turned the collar on for longer this time. When it stopped, I begged. I pleaded. I came up with every sexual scenario I could imagine, every sex act, and I begged him to train me to do it. Anything to end the pain. He looked hesitant. Then he said, "Tell me you understand what you are now. Tell me you understand your place and that you don't deserve to be free. Tell me all you want is to please free men for the rest of your existence. Tell me you were built to be a slut to cock. Tell me you will die collared to please me. And convince me you mean it." And I did. I told him what he wanted to hear. I told him I was where I was meant to be. I told him I didn't deserve freedom. I told him I was property. I told him he could kill me or take my balls and all he would owe is my master the money for a new slave or for the loss of children. I begged him to use my cum to make new slaves, whose existence would be only to serve him and other free men. I told him I was unworthy of his cock, but that my mouth and body were his and all free mens and I existed to be used however they wanted. I promised to thank him for his cum and piss and I begged him to fuck me up the ass and to let me suck his cock. So, he did.
Menlo
I hadn't had a virgin, much less a recently free young athlete, in a few weeks. And this boy really was perfect. The exact kind of slave slut all masters dream of owning. Nothing feminine about him at all. 100% teenage boy. Tight body. High and tight and just round enough ass. Smooth, but not bony, body. Toned. And the chemicals had made that body baby smooth. Not a hair anywhere other than the boy's head. My dick had begun to harden the second I saw him in the baseball pants. He filled them perfectly. I imagined his coach had to resist some very impure thoughts about him while he was free. But he was no longer free. His brother really should have been the one to fuck him for the first time. As a rule, a master should fuck a slave within a week to establish dominance. But I wasn't going to turn down this opportunity. I had him undress me. He was shorter than me, but was able to get the sweatshirt off by standing on his tip toes. Then the pants. I wasn't wearing underwear today. And I wasn't fully hard yet. I had good self-control and liked the little sluts to have to earn it. I cut the jockstrap off him. His cock was maybe four inches soft. I had him follow me, both of us now naked, to the room next door. My bedroom. I pointed to the bed and said, "On your back, legs in the air. Knees to your chest. Hold them close." I don't know if you've ever seen a young virgin slaveboy, trembling, in that position, but it's a beautiful sight. The fear and the knowledge they can't resist. The knowledge they asked for it, in the case with Menlo slaves. I decided there was no reason to be kind. I spit on my dick and then really looked at his hole. It wasn't even dime sized and the boy had a bank inspection in a few days. He couldn't spend the time at the hospital he'd need if I went in dry and rough. I rubbed some petroleum jelly on my cock and massaged it until I was hard. Then I put a glob on his butt. The lad's eyes closed when my finger went in him. I slapped him across the face and said, "Eyes open and on your master. " Then I put my dick to his hole and pushed.
Jason
It wasn't that it was more painful than the collar or the ball squeezing. It wasn't. It hurt and it was an intense pain. But it was the reality of what was happening. I was a slave getting fucked. Feeling his cock shoved up my ass had me tear up and I tried to close my eyes and look away. But he wouldn't let me. And then he pushed my legs further apart and leaned in over me. His hairy chest and half fat pecs hovering my my chest. His eyes staring into mine. Every time I grasped or groaned or cried out, he smiled. His fat hairy hands were all over my body too. Pinching my nipples. Massaging my shoulders. Rubbing all over me. He leaned low and bit my nipples so hard I thought they were bleeding. Within minutes, his sweat was dripping all over my body. All I could smell was his musk. And then he started talking, saying things like: Take your master's dick, boy. This is what you begged for. You're going to be a little slut, aren't you? Such a tight little slave cunt. Your pussy was made for dick. You'll never be a free man again. Most boys will die before begging to take dick. But you know what you're meant for. The whole time he was looking in my eyes. Challenging me to disagree. And then, he flipped me over. On my belly, I could feel his whole weight on top of me. It was like I was being crushed. And then, his dick went deep. All the way. I cried out. It felt like a steel rod shoved all the way up my ass. I was making whimpering sounds I didn't know I could make. My breath was being shoved out of me by his slams. And then he hit something. My dick, dry as my balls were, leaked. It was like precum or something was forced out of it. And then he slammed even harder and deeper and more leaked out. It still hurt, but it was feeling good too. Sexual. I wasn't gay, but it was like every thrust made more precum ooze and my dick get harder. And he sensed it too. I felt his beard scrape against my cheek as he whispered, "I knew you were a faggot, boy." And then he made me cum.
Menlo
The kid was tighter than any slave I'd ever fucked. His hole was like a hot velvety silk tunnel squeezing my cock over and over. His hairless slave body felt incredible under me. And his cries and moans and gasps just made me harder. The whole time he was on his back, he was biting his lip and trying to hide his disgust. I had no illusions. I was an old man half gone to fat. He was a fit young athlete. But he was mine. I caressed every inch of his skin. Twisted and bit his nipples. Licked away the tears from his face. Then I flipped him over. And I laid on top of him. Deliberately crushing him. Then I rammed back in his butt. Hard enough to make him whimper. And then again. And again. By now, most boys would have gotten hard. Not because they liked dick, but just biology. I needed him to feel that. It took a while. I pounded his hole for what must have seemed like hours to him. And I could tell the moment that feeling kicked in. His cries became mixed with pleasure. And so I did the final part of any Menlo boy breaking. I slammed harder and harder. Faster and faster. Pushing the cum out of him. Forcing his dick to become hard for me. Forcing his dick to cum. And the whole time I talked. Growled. Grunted. I was saying some variation of what I always say: Most boys wouldn't beg for dick, but I could tell he was a faggot and cockslut the second I saw him in the dining room. That this is all he was meant for. That he was a human dick ditch for free men. That he liked it. That he enjoyed being a slave. That he would never be happy being free. That he was going to want to beg for cock anytime he was near a free man. And I gripped his head while I did it. Pulled his hair. I licked his face. I drooled on him. I made our bodies slick with sweat. And then when I knew he was close, I gripped his dick and said "Cum for me."
Jason
I came from his hand. Just like he had ordered earlier. It shot all over my stomach and his bed. And then I felt his cum. Flooding inside me. He grunted and shoved it harder and deeper than ever before. And that was it. I had jizz up my butt. From a fat old man. I had been fucked. He pulled out of my ass and slapped my butt. Then he laid over on his back. He looked at me and said, "You have my permission to tongue clean my entire body, slave." I knew better than to say anything other than yes master.