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Becoming a Farm Slave -Part 2- by Devlin Farr jawhol56yes@live.com
Mr. Davis' tan arms glistened in the sun as he pulled open the barn door. I was beyond anxious. I was horny, sporting a raging hard-on in my jeans, but tried to ignore it. This was nearly a fantasy come to life—one of the hottest guys I'd ever seen, full of muscle and authority, leading me into his dark, humid barn. I was excited to see the slaves in the stable—but even worse, I think I was more excited to see what position he put them in...perhaps to imagine myself in their predicament.
"Step inside, boy, so I can close the door. Don't like leaving it open. Let's in a draft," Mr. Davis said, stepping aside.
I quickly shuffled into the barn. He closed the door behind us.
I squinted and tried to adjust me eyes to the low-light. The smell was musty—not of sweat, but of wet wood, hay, and the faint hint of earth. The sun streamed in through small holes in the rafters, but otherwise the inside was lit by just a few lanterns. The inside of the barn had obvious stalls on the left and the right, but each was cordoned off by wooden enclosures.
I wanted to sneak a peek badly inside the stalls.
I jumped when a strong, warm hand hit my shoulder. "Come on, boy. Lemme show you around." Mr. Davis stepped forward. He walked past a few of the stalls before settling on the third one to our left. "Take a look, boy. This is Spike."
I walked over—trying to hide my excitement—and peered in. There, standing upright, a man stared back at me. He had dark skin, toned muscles, and no visible hair on his body except for his eyebrows. He was gorgeous—he clearly weighed more than even Mr. Davis, at least 250 lbs. A harness wrapped around his torso and a panel gag kept his mouth busy. From a hook above his head hung a rope, which was tied to the apparatus around his head. The apparatus looked like a small harness that kept the panel gag in, hooked into a large black collar around his neck, and forced the slave to stand upright in the stall. His powerful arms were tied behind his back in an armbinder, and his legs were spread apart with a spreader bar. I could see a branding upon his left pec—Property of Master Davis—and, on his right, Spike.
"Wow," I said, and began to step inside the stall.
"Ah, ah, ah. No can do," Mr. Davis said. I stopped to look at him. "Spike here is still in-training. That's why its arms and legs are tied. It doesn't get any attention unless I allow it. You can look, but you can't go any further."
I stole a glance at Spike's eyes and what I saw was mesmerizing. He stared back at me, not with fear, but with understanding. The African-American did not look helpless—he looked at peace. I looked at his cock. It was encased in a black chastity device, concealed from sight and touch. I salivated at the thought of it wrapped around my own cock, with Mr. Davis staring at me in the same position as the slave before me.
"Come on, boy, let's check out Deke." At the mention of the word boy,' I noticed Spike's eyes widen slightly. Did he know something I didn't? Was he originally called boy' before submitting to this life of servitude? I wished to reach out and touch his body, to understand what could have led him to make such a life-changing decision. A man of his stature, of his aesthetic, would have no shortage of hot suitors. Was he financially broke? Was he running from the law? Surely sexual lust couldn't have turned him into the broken slave before me?
I broke eye contact and followed Mr. Davis to another stall, and what lay inside haunted me.
There, standing with the same head apparatus, was a Caucasian male about my height, with dark hair, and bulging muscles. It was like looking into a mirror, but on a body with an extra 50 lbs of muscle, extremely tan skin from working in the sun, and shackles around his arms and legs. The shackles weren't chained to anything, just hanging loosely off the end of his limbs, but the head harness kept him locked in place. It was shut with a padlock—of which I'm sure Mr. Davis or his trainer Josef had they key—clearly meant for trained slaves who wouldn't fiddle about. A bit gag kept his mouth open, but filled, and I watched as drool exited its corners and dripped to the messy floor.
But again, the likeness of his visage to mine was both terrifying and immensely arousing. Within a year and a half of hard work, maybe two, that could be me. With pert pink nipples, sculpted abs, and immaculate facial hair—a manicured beard and short, messy brown hair. I was surprised he was allowed to have hair, given the state of Spike.
"He's allowed hair?" I asked Mr. Davis.
"Yeah," came the response from beside me, "Slaves who has proven their loyalty and service are allowed to grow back hair on their head. Everything below the neck is shaved, though."
"He's beautiful," I said, unconsciously stepping forward again.
"It's beautiful," Mr. Davis corrected. "Deke is one of my most loyal slaves, been here three years. It's been trained to perfection. Isn't that right, Deke?"
Deke stared straight ahead, not really looking at either one of us. His eyes were slightly downcast—clearly trained to not make eye contact with his superior.
Mr. Davis stepped past me at that moment, and I noticed a key in one of his hands. "No touching, remember." He unlocked Deke's head harness from the hook—it still remained on his head, the bit gag frozen in place—and grabbed him by the harm. Mr. Davis led Deke out of the stall and motioned for me to follow.
We walked around the stalls to a section of troughs. There was nothing in them at the moment, evidently all cleaned out. Mr. Davis adjusted a few nozzles and, soon enough, a flush of water began to fill the trough.
"This is the feeding station. This trough here fills with water and, when this nozzle over here is turned"—he pointed to a nozzle to our right—"it fills this second trough with gruel. Tons of protein in it, eaten once in the morning before work, once in the afternoon at mid-day, and once in the evening at the end of the day. Deke, have a drink."
Deke knelt down obediently at the trough and began to lap at the water. I noticed Mr. Davis move behind him, staring down at him with a lustful grin on his face.
"Ya know," Mr. Davis said, "I'm feelin' a little turned on with you standin' there and my slave bent over like this..." He shot me a smile, then took off his shirt. My dick immediately sprung a leak, and I couldn't think about anything else other than the Greek god standing before me. He unbuttoned his shorts then, stealing glances at me as if performing some seductive striptease, before he dropped them to the ground, along with his underwear.
I couldn't help but stare at his magnificent specimen. It had to be at least 9 inches, if not longer. I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner, considering how tight his shorts were, but my mind had been preoccupied with the predicament of the slaves in the stable.
He knelt down behind Deke, placed his fingers in the slave's mouth, and then immediately pressed them into the slave's inviting hole. Deke accepted everything without a sound, wordlessly lapping at the water in the trough without a care in the world. I wished I was him in that moment.
Mr. Davis slowly entered Deke, adjusting himself as he did so, and then went to town, pounding him mercilessly. Sweat trickled down his enormous chest and I witnessed his heaving body and thrusting pelvis continually entering and exiting Deke's backside. I was a voyeur.
I was a voyeur and, for some reason, that didn't bother me. I didn't feel disgusted or abhorred at this display of aggression, dominance, and inappropriate interview behaviour. On the contrary, I wanted to be the slave on its knees, feeding at Mr. Davis' trough with Master's massive cock in my hole.
"You like what you see, boy?" Mr. Davis said between thrusts, a dark, desiring look on his face.
"Yes, Sir," I responded, completely giving in to the fantasy.
"Bet you'd like to be this slave, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Sir," I said, stroking the hard-on in my jeans. My eyes closed for a moment in ecstasy as I briefly imagined me on my knees getting plowed like I was a sex toy.
"Maybe you wanna join in?" he said.
There was a moment, however fleeting, where I understood the ramifications of giving in to this man. This wasn't like in the city, where a quick BDSM fling would lead a hot, passion-fueled session of me getting utterly turned on and fucked, and then we'd part at the end of the night. No, this was dangerous territory, where one of the hottest men I'd ever seen was fucking the other hottest man I'd ever seen, and I was standing in a stable that housed submissive sex and labour slaves. I was a journalist, not a slave.
Mr. Davis pulled out of Deke, who kept up his drinking—how much was a slave required to drink in one sitting?—and sauntered over in my direction, his massive cock swaying from side to side. "On your knees, boy."
I was entranced. It swung left. It swung right. Nine inches of flesh, of substantial girth, swinging like a pendulum, hypnotizing my gaze. It wasn't even dirty from Deke's hole—I could briefly hear Mr. Davis say something along the lines of Josef cleans em all out in the morning and again after each feeding.' But I couldn't do it. I know that if I did, I'd succumb to this man's will.
A hand found my shoulder. It pressed with the softest of pressure.
I fell to my knees.
The cock swung to and fro. To and fro. It was right there, right in front of my face.
Hands grabbed my shirt and hauled it up my torso. As it passed over my face, covering my eyes for a brief moment, I gained some lucidity. Sucking on that gorgeous cock would ruin me. I knew it. It would destroy the carefully constructed walls separating fantasy from reality and put at-risk the very life I'd created for myself over the past thirty years of my existence. Could I really risk throwing all that away to lose my free will and become entirely beholden to this man in front of me?
My arms lifted and the shirt came off.
The cock was still there, swinging. To and fro. To and fro.
"Suck."
I sucked.
My mouth met his member and it was divine. It was succulent. Hard, but flexible. I reached up with my hands to add to the blowjob.
"No hands," came the order from above.
I put my hands down.
"Good boy."
His words made me feel good. They encouraged me and, at the same time, put me in my place. It felt good to let go, to let someone else take control. To give in and follow orders.
"Take off your clothes," he ordered. I attempted to pull off his cock so I could unbutton my jeans, but a hand clasped the back of my head. "Keep my cock in your mouth, boy." I struggled to remove my pants, but managed to slide them off. I had made sure I only took a good six inches in my mouth to prevent gagging, but as I struggled, it started to slide in and out further and further. I started to gag a little, so I pulled back, but the hand prevented me from sliding off that throbbing member.
I kicked off my flip-flops, followed by my jeans and boxers. I was unabashedly naked, completely at the mercy of the man towering over me. I wasn't as muscular as Deke, or as Mr. Davis, but I was a solid 175 lbs of lean athleticism. My dick throbbed hard and stood at attention, begging for some physical touch. I reached down with my hands and—
"Ah, ah, ah. Hands off your little dicklet, boy. Focus on your Master's cock." My Master's cock? I wasn't a slave. This was just a simple heated encounter between two hot guys. You know, with a slave on the side...No, that didn't sound quite normal. I was acting quite submissive though...perhaps I shouldn't let him do exactly what he wants or he might convince me to do more...
"All fours, boy. I wanna see that fine ass." His cock slipped from my mouth, spittle, saliva, and pre-cum falling to the floor. I was fucking horny, like a dog in heat. Jesus, how did he have this effect on me?
I spread my hands and legs, getting into the doggy position. "Here, let me help you out, boy. Don't want you hurting yourself." He knelt down on my right-hand side and grabbed for my right hand. He balled it up and produced some kind of glove out of nowhere. Where did he find that? He pulled it over my hand and closed the clasp. He locked it shut with a padlock.
He did the same to my left hand.
"Just wanna make sure you don't scrape up your paws, boy," he laughed, before taking position behind me, just as he did Deke. If I was a woman and my ass was a pussy, it'd have flooded the entire barn by now. I just wanted him in me, regardless of how big he was. I needed that cock in my ass.
Something flashed across my eyes. "Open up," he said, and a red ball-gag entered my mouth. I was no stranger to bondage gear, especially in my line of work, so I felt comfortable with it. "Good slave," he added. Where did this `slave' keep coming from? This was just an interview-turned-fuck-session.
I felt a pressure at my hole. Here it comes. He was going to breed me. I couldn't wait.
I began to fantasize about being his slave, obeying his every directive. I could work on the farm, build up a massively muscular body like Deke and Spike, and get my own stall with a head harness. I'd be shaved from head to toe—I've been bald before, and was told I looked good, especially with my lean bod and visible abs—which wouldn't be too bad. He could then brand me as his property and Josef, who I'm sure was just as hot as Mr. Davis, could then train me in the stables.
Mr. Davis took me from behind and entered into me, slowly at first. I'd jacked myself off with an 8" inch dildo for the last two weeks, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to fit him inside me. "There's a good slave," he said, settling in to a rhythm. He pounded me again, and again, and again. I felt so full and so fucking hot. I was in heaven.
"Drink, slave." A hand pushed on my head and lowered my face into the trough. With the gag on, I couldn't actually lap up any water, but I pretended to, just to please him. I suspected he got off me acting like one of his personal slaves.
"Good slave," he said. He grabbed both my hips and started hammering into me. I could tell he was getting close as his breathing grew faster, more aggressive, more desperate.
"MMMmm," I moaned into the gag. Every thrust was hitting a fucking pressure point that elicited inexplicable elation. There was an indescribable craving that needed to be sated and only Master's cock could do it.
Master's cock?
A sudden plowing filled me to the brim. I could feel his juices enter into me and he growled like a bear empowered with ferocity. The growl reached an apex and he stayed in me while his semen stuffed my hole.
"Fuckin' nice hole, slave," he said once he was able to catch his breath.
I moaned in response, my cock aching for release.
He patted my cheeks before pulling out and standing up. I could still hear his breathing. I turned my head and his hands grabbed my gag, removing it from my mouth.
"Clean me off, slave," he ordered, that gorgeous pendulum swaying in my face again. I eagerly cleaned his cock, sucking on it as if my life depended on it.
As soon as I was done, he put the gag back in my mouth. I look confused for a moment, which I know he saw, because then he laughed. "Slave, I think you and I both knew where this was headed the moment you showed up on my doorstep today. You need this. And I need you. So, welcome to the farm!"
My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. I hadn't agreed to this!
"You're probably thinking that you didn't agree to this, right?" he said. "That's what most of the guys think. But you know what really tells the tale? A slave's cock. And look at your cock, slave."
I looked down and saw that my cock was nearly bright red and dripping with cum. I so badly wanted to cum and looking at this man before me, I knew this hard-on wasn't going away anytime soon.
"Yeah, you need this. You desire this. So, here's what's gonna happen. Josef will be home soon and we'll get started on your training. If, by the end of the weekend, you aren't satisfied, then you can go back to your boring job in the city where you'll live the rest of your life regretting not being my slave."
I vaguely heard what he'd said. I was too busy staring at his cock, entranced by its length and its subtle movement.
I heard him laugh.
"Slave, you're already completely addicted to my cock." He ran it across my face, a small bit of my saliva from the cleaning running down my cheek. "There's more where that came from. And there's plenty of work for you to do, as well! Trust me, this'll be one interview you'll never forget!"