This is a work of fiction. The characters are invented. It is intended solely for the fantasy entertainment of persons, age 18 or older, who want to read about gay sex and male slavery. If you are not at least 18 years old and/or this is not what you want, read no further.
2009 Copyright. All rights reserved by the author. JKBlackhouse
Brothers & Slaves: Characters so far:
Danny 17, currently the narrator, high school junior, on soccer & track teams; Ken 18, Danny's older brother, athletic body, high school senior, plays football, baseball & wrestles; Gary 15, Danny's younger brother, young stud, high school freshman, footballer; Tuck 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Don, soccer & track; Don 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Tuck, backup quarterback. Joey, 16, teammate of Danny and leader of team's turning him into their shaved cocksucker; Tim, 17, personal house slave of Ken, Danny and Gary; Mr. Howard, owner, a slave training facility. James: head slave of the family household. Ron, 18, classmate and now Master of Ken
Brothers & Slaves: Chapt. 23: Slave At Last Danny
It was probably a good mile or so run and I was huffing and puffing toward the end of it. Once the Overseer pulled the pony to a stop, I stood there drenched in sweat, knowing I must really smell. My armpits were so wet it was running down my sides. The pony let loose a stream of piss right where he stood. The Overseer didn't so much as look at me. He called the Overseer who was supervising there and told him I was the new slave for the coffle. I saw before me five slaves, rings and wearing collars and restraints just like mine. They were chained together at the ankle by about a foot of chain between each slave. It quickly dawned on me that I was about to be added as the sixth coffle slave. My dick stirred at the thought. I'd often jerked off to the fantasy of being a coffle slave but I never thought I would join one so soon. Wow. But I was also pretty anxious about it. What would the other slaves think of me, obviously one of their number but not permanently so? And the work, what were they doing and could I keep up? I really had almost no personal experience with hard physical labor. Well I came for slave training and this was sure it.
Chapt. 24: Service Danny
I had been ringed and placed in restraints just like the real slaves. I'd been run a about a mile leashed behind a pony cart with a pretty wide buttplug up my ass. My ankles were again placed in the 7 inch hobble chain. Then I was led next to the slave on the left end of the coffle. A chain was locked between my right ankle and his left one. I was now a locked coffle slave. My dick kept straining against the chain tying it under my balls which of course hurt like hell since both rings were newly inserted. There was nothing I could do The genital band kept the blood in my cock but my cock couldn't rise. It could swell and it did. But a boner, no way.
The slave next to me gave me a good hard stare. Of course he said nothing. He did not have permission to speak. The Overseer explained to me that they were digging an irrigation ditch for a new field that Master was planning to plant. He handed me a short handled shovel which meant I'd have to bend way over with each use of the shovel. The other slaves also had the short handled shovels. Was this just to be cruel or was there some reason for it? I had no idea.
We were ordered to work and bent to force the shovel into the hard dirt. We were to remove the dirt and toss it to the far side of the foot wide ditch. The coffle stretched about 5 plus feet. As soon as we'd dug one section, we'd shuffle off to our right until we were all facing solid ground and the whole process would be repeated. It didn't take long for my back to start hurting plus every time I bent to use the shovel, I fucked myself with the plug. These guys, I guessed, had been doing this all day. I didn't see how I'd last even an hour. My dick kept struggling to no avail.
It was mindless work, sweaty in the hot sun and, except for the sounds of the shovels digging into the dirt, the dirt landing on the ground as we tossed it, and our own grunts of effort, there was not a sound. It was eerie. Well, there was one other sound, the crack of the whip on the back or ass of a slave the Overseer decided was not working hard enough. That also let loose yelps from the offending slave. It didn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes before I had my first lashing, two hard strokes to my back. "Keep up 415, you're falling behind,' the Overseer yelled at me. I screamed in surprise and pain. This wasn't hot sex, this was pure punishment solely meant to keep me working hard. I was soon covered from the waist down in a mix of sweat and dirt. I felt grimy, with good reason, I was a mess.
After maybe thirty minutes we were told to stop and to rest. A bottle of water was passed around, we all drank from the same bottle. The other slaves all gave me the once over, then the twice over. Without permission to speak, they couldn't ask me anything nor could I have answered had they asked. I sat there silently saying to myself, `you're a slave. They are treating you for real like a slave and I have no way out. No matter what happens, Master is not going to release me until I've served the full three days.' I felt trapped far more than I had the first time at the training center and in fact, I was far more trapped. I was giddy from the sensation of almost true slavery while simultaneously exhausted and wishing I were somewhere nice and cool where I could nurse my piercings in peace. Of course, there was no chance of that. After maybe ten minutes, were set to work again.
Not only did my back ache and the pirecings hurt, but my hands were beginning to feel the relentless abrasion of the shovel handle and my feet the pain of pushing them barefoot against the metal of the shovel to press the shovel into the ground. The others had hands and feet that were hardened, I figured, though naturally I had no way of knowing for how long they'd been enslaved and out ditch digging. Maybe like me they were new. The pattern was work around an hour, rest for ten minutes and so on, hour after hour. By the time the sun was lower in the sky and we were told to stop, I thought I would probably die immediately and sort of wished I would too.
We were lined up in double file, our ankle chains switched so the middle (second) slave was linked to the slave behind and before him. I was middle on the right side. Our collars were also linked by chain both front to back and side to side. The Overseer mounted his horse, a real one, genuine four legs, and we were set to a slow trot, as much as our hobbles would permit. The two front slaves sang out "one two, one two" to keep us in step, and that's how we spent the entire mile back to the slave quarters.
Once there, we were unchained from eachother and sent into a fairly wide and deep cage that I soon realized was where we would spend the night. Now I was locked up with five other slaves, all looking older and stronger than me, and all with their eyes on me. There was a hole at the back of the cell where they pissed, so I did the same. And there was a nozzle to suck for water. The floor was concrete and hard.
"All right kid, what's the story?" one of the slaves asked me. I had to decide on the spot. Do I tell them the whole truth, that I'm there voluntarily to experience being a slave for a few days or do I make up a story about Master deciding whether to buy me? I went for truth. I figured they'd find out somehow anyway and besides, I sort of wanted the humiliation of revealing my situation. And I got it. They were relentless with their questions, how rich was my family, were they in fact selling me, how could I want to be a slave and wear rings and kept naked and plugged? I had to tell them that being a slave was my fantasy and I just had to have more experiences. I told them about my first visit to the center. They laughed at me. They said, "OK kid, you want to be treated as a slave, we will. Get ready kid."
At that point, a pig-like trough was slid into the cell and the others scrambled over to get their share of the slave chow. Apparently we were not allowed to use our hands so we had to bend over the trough, stick our faces into it and eat stuff. I quickly realized I had to eat as fast as I could because there was only so much food we had to share and voluntary sharing wasn't the protocol obviously. Plus, I had to figure out how to get my snout ring out of the way so I could get my mouth on the food at all. I held it up with one hand and tried to balance myself on my other hand and on my knees. That's pretty much what the others did although one slave somehow managed to keep his snout ring up while his head was down. How? I kept trying to squeeze in between these bigger guys but they kept squeezing me out. It seemed like a game to them, to keep me from the food. I certainly didn't get a sixth of the stuff before it was gone. I was hungry and I
realized that there wasn't a thing I could do about it, there was no more food and there wasn't going to be any until the morning. I sucked a lot of water to try to feel full but that had its own problems, bloating and pissing.
I absolutely knew they were going to sexually assault me but how could they since their cocks were just as locked down as was mine? For the moment, I was saved by Master coming to the cage. The other slaves immediately assumed the slave present position as soon as they saw him so I did the same.
"So 415, enjoying your slavery?" Master asked.
What was I to say? "Master, yes thank you Master though the slave is worn out from all the piercings and the field work, Master." Was I enjoying it? I didn't think that quite described the way it was. I was experiencing it, I was living my fantasy, it was a turn on even hurting as I was, but enjoying? I don't know.
Master opened the cell and ordered me to crawl out. He locked the cell, snapped a leash to my collar and led me to a private enclosure at the rear of the barn. I knew enough to crawl behind him and not to make the slightest attempt to stand. I just felt `I'm his slave, his property, he can do whatever he wants with me and I want him to, just let me feel what a helpless slave feels.'
As soon as we were both behind a closed door in the back room, Master ordered me to the slave present position. He examined my entire body with his eyes, then his hands, chest, pierced nipples, locked cock and balls, my whipped back and ass, all his. "Tell me 415, is this what you wanted?"
"Master, yes Master, it is, thank you Master. But Master, this slave doesn't know that it can keep this up. It hurts from all the piercings and its muscles are exhausted from the field work, Master, after just half a day, Master."
"Well boy, do you want to continue? Of course you have no choice. You signed papers giving me possession of you for 72 hours so you are going to continue, I'm just curious if you want to, given a choice (which you are not)."
"Master, this slave is here to serve you Master. How may this slave serve you, Master?" I'd finally remembered my slave manners. I leaned forward, my hands still behind my head, and kissed each of Master Howard's boots.
There was a knock at the door and Master said to enter. It was my field Overseer and a second Overseer. They were in uniform, boots, tan jodpers and black tank tops with "Howard's Center" written on the front in white and "slave training" written on the backs. I moved forward and kissed the four new boots that stood before me. "Masters, how may this slave serve you, Masters?"
The field Overseer, named Mr. Martin, pulled open his fly. Underneath I could see the cloth of a jockstrap stained with sweat. He motioned for me to smell his jock. It smelled all man, man sweat and crotch. My cock tried to flail but the chain would have none of that. "Lick 415."
"Master, yes Master," I replied eagerly. I pushed my face into his fly opening and got an even better whiff of his man sweat. I stuck out my tongue and began licking the grainy jock material. Jockstraps really turn me on, so though tired, I was for the moment in hog heaven.
"Now slave, use your teeth to move the jock aside so my dick and balls, hairy balls, are free and get your tongue on them boy, now."
"Master, yes Master." And there I was, naked and hairless on my knees, ringed all over the place, my hands kept behind my head as I carefully took a bite of the left side of his jock and pulled it forward and tried to get it over the hump of his rising cock and his balls. It took three tries but I succeeded in freeing him. Immediately, as I knew was expected, I began licking the balls which were indeed extremely hairy, a real man's balls, and then his hardening cock. I licked the sweat from his balls and then laved them with my tongue. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to take them into my mouth but I took the chance and did so, first one, then the other, and finally I managed to mouth both at once. There were loud moans and words of encouragement from Mr. Martin, "Yes slave, go for it. Oh yes, that's good slave," and so on. I was pleasing this strong and superior man just as the slave I now was should. I wished, hopelessly, that my own dick
was free to bone up but it wasn't. And why should it be? I wasn't there for my pleasure, I was there to serve and please my Masters and betters.
"Master, please may this slave suck your manmeat, Master?" I begged. Given permission, I full throated his cock which was now hard and long, nestled in his hairy pubes, hair that a real man had and slaves like me did not. I licked around the cock crown and then stroked the dick with my mouth and throat, feeling his dick swell even further and his voice strain as he ordered me to suck faster, harder. Mr. Martin pulled up his tank and told my to pinch and massage his tits. When I did this gently he kicked my balls, forcing me to groan and jerk forward but then naturally to immediately thank him and abuse his nipples much harder, using my nails even to pinch them hard. Judging from his dick and his groans, I was now doing it right.
"Get ready for my cum slave, don't spill."
Within seconds I felt his cock swell, harden and then erupt thick cream into my mouth and throat. I swallowed it all, then cleaning off Master's dick. Finally, I said, "Master, thank you, Master for your gift of cum, Master. This slave is honored to be allowed to accept your cum into its body, Master." I don't know where this little speech came from but it seemed to please both Mr. Martin and Master Howard. I was ordered to stand, hands back behind my head, and lick the sweat from Mr. Martin's armpit. I lapped it up. It tasted sour as pit sweat always does and I am not fond of the taste, but I thanked him for the privilege of cleaning his pits nonetheless.
I realized another Overseer stood before me, Mr. Upton. I begged leave to serve him as well. He nodded that I was to serve him, but his orders were different from those of Mr. Martin. I was in for a more intense experience. "Lets get rid of this piss first, slave." I knew my place. I knelt before him, using my teeth, I unzipped his pants and then freed his dick just I had Mr. Martin's. I wrapped my mouth around his cock and immediately felt and tasted the flow of his piss. It was slightly salty but not intense. It was good, but god there was a lot of it. When he was done, he ordered me to my hands and knees. It wasn't hard to guess what was going to happen next.
I was ordered to remove my plug. I did so and thank god it was clean. My ass felt like there was a huge void, an emptiness after having a wide plug there all afternoon. I figured Mr. Upton was about to fill that void. To my surprise, he cuffed my wrists widely apart to rings in the floor. He unlocked my hobble and spread my ankles and they too were cuffed to rings in the floor. He placed a metal pole under my neck and raised to pole until it was level with my neck. Then he attached the front ring of my collar to a ring on the post and raised it some more, forcing me to arch my neck upward and turn my face up. He fit a hollow tube gag in my mouth and then I got the point, he attached a funnel to the top of the gag. There was now a funnel leading directly into my mouth and throat. What were they going to pour into me, more piss?
Copyright 2009 JKBlackhouse. All rights reserved by the author. This work may not be reproduced, except for personal use, without permission of the author. Reproduction for any other use is prohibited.
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email: jkblackhouse@yahoo.com