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(A short Chapter this time) A slave's Induction
Ch 9 - "You Cant Go Home"
Thomas Wolfe's quote, "You can't go home -" was taking on new meaning for me. Bill was working to make that a reality - an impossibility for this - his fuckhole, property, slave, and toy - even if I were able to get through the security systems, guards, and locks, and break away. It was some days after my humiliating experience on his desktop I was told the Master was having a screening - popcorn and all. Bill had Nick bring me into the family room. The same big screen, on which I worshipfully watched my Master working out that first night, was coming to life. The finished footage of my humiliation on Bill's desk was finished and ready for viewing. I was informed that after watching myself writhing at my fuckhole abuse and begging for more, I would kneel at the coffee table and write a list of names and emails of family, friends, and associates, to be notified when the video would post.
The way it would be handled would be in the form of an invitation to spread the word, that in a few days, I would be addressing everyone to apologize for leaving without notification. At the appointed time, with everyone tuned in with anticipation, in order to attract and hold their viewer ship, it would start with only words on the screen.
Indeed, that's how it began. White words on a red screen read, "I'm sorry to leave without saying anything, and I just wanted you all to understand I have what I need now. The video will help explain I am where I belong. Thank you for watching, and I'm sorry for not being in touch. Please feel free to download and spread this video so as many as possible can see it." Then the video started with a vertical close up of my face and the camera swiveling till my head was shown lying on the Master's desk.
Bill said some would not watch once they saw me naked clutching the desktop, but many would be drawn to do so - and even some that wouldn't, would have their curiosities raised and go back and watch at another time - possibly if and when alone. General releases would be made also - to venues like, "X Tube," and sharing would be encouraged. So it would be sure any and everyone known to me would eventually see or at least come to know of me begging for abuse - more ass pain, "Things travel fast on the web," Bill said, as he casually tossed some popcorn in his mouth, while the video played.
I sat on the floor next to the Master and watched it loop several times, sweating at thoughts of having to supply names and emails so people I knew could see what I was - how I was being recreated as a form of entertainment - a service instrument and sex toy. I remembered Bill's words about how embarrassed people I knew would be, if they could just see me plug fucked, and cunt stretched, and begging for more. Bill would succeed at the very scenario he'd imagined. They might not be present, or have any idea where I was, but they WOULD see me humiliated and abused. Indeed, Bill's images would be the last impressions they would have of me.
Bill splayed his legs and snapped his fingers - a signal I had learned well. As he watched and turned up the sound for my benefit, I listened to myself singing his proverbial tune to his proverbial timing while he buried his fat cock in my mouth, fucking it deep in my throat, the way I was being trained to service. He and Nick lingered and laughed with the footage, reminding me how many would enjoy it the same way he was. He had Nick take footage of me sucking his cock. He relaxed - grabbed my ears, and fucked me, making sure I fought to breathe while gagging my saliva all over his crotch.
He asked me if I wanted more, and pulled me off just long enough for my answer, YES MASTER PLEASE SS -" Before I could finish the word, "SIR," my head was jammed back down to his crotch bone and held there. As I was starting to black out, he pulled it up again.
"You want everyone to see how much you enjoy fucking fat cock with your throat?"
I knew nothing but enthusiasm with my only acceptable answer would be tolerated so I yelled out again, "YES SIR!" Down again he pushed my head.
"Tell me how you feel about my cock," he instructed, and lifted my head off his monolithic manhood.
"I -" back down I was pulled with a rough ear handled fucking through which I could not speak - though I tried - choking and gagging till he pulled up again on my ears, his cock almost exiting my mouth, "LOVE!" was barely understandable.
"Was that, Love?" he asked as the camera rolled. I managed to nod in the affirmative as he fucked before raising me again.
"YOUR COCK!" He allowed both words before burying himself again and holding me there as he gave his instructions.
"Now look into the camera and tell everyone how you feel about my cock and describe it while you're at it." He raised my head off himself and pointed me - using my ear handles - toward the camera. I wouldn't have known where it was.
Slobber faced, and teary eyed from the face & throat fucking I spoke y assignment, "I LOVE YOUR BIG FAT COCK MASTER! THANK YOU SS -" He turned my head back to its service position, and with my ears, bobbed my head as fast as he could up and down on himself - full throttle. I choked, and gagged, and spit, and blew snot from my nose, and barely worked breathing in enough to stay conscious.
He yelled at me, "OPEN THAT MOUTH WIDE SHITHEAD! I don't want to feel your teeth. This is not about sucking my cock - the way you love to, and the way I let you sometimes. This is about getting your throat fucked!" Mercifully - before long - he began to groan. His gusher was comming.
He lifted me off and held his cock for a camera view of his initial stream shooting directly in my face. He put his cock to my left nostril as the second began, "SNIF!" he shouted. He pulled away just enough that the string of his cum could be seen entering my nose as I followed his command and snorted him into my throat like a lunger. The rest of his usually voluminous load streams, he sprayed all over my face. He turned me into the camera for a cum-covered close up, "You're getting better," was his snide comment. As the last of the load was leaking from his piss slit, he held it to my lips and told me to tell everyone again how I felt about his cock.
With my lips being slimed from the last of his massive load, I spoke the words. Exhausted from his use I began with an unacceptable volume, "I -"
"SHOUT IT, FUCKFACE!" he yelled.
"I LOVE YOUR BIG FAT COCK MASTER! THANK YOU FOR USING MY THROAT AS YOUR FUCKHOLE SIR!" The last shot was of the camera zooming in on my cum-slick lips and going black.
This movie, like the one the Master was still enjoying while fucking my throat, would be screened for me to witness at another time. It too would be distributed for my humiliation with the same viewer ship of all my known associations and for the establishment among their number of my new, acceptable, desired, identity and even preferable treatment - to the names and emails I would now kneel and supply to get my revelation as willing and desirous participation in my abuse, started for unavoidably wide dissemination over the aptly titled, "World Wide Web." Two things were guaranteed - all of it would be seen on different venues - and through highly technological encryption - none of it traceable back to Bill or to my location. There would be no one finding me, and no savior rescuing me.
Comments welcome: mackxwayne@hotmail.com
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