This story is the work of fiction.
This story contains sometimes, brutal gay sex acts between Masters and slaves.
If this offends you or if it is illegal for you to read such material, please do not read any further and delete this file.
The presentation here of events and characters in no way is meant to portray actual, historical persons and events.
HICKBILLY
"Kick his ass," shouts my Owner as my slave brothers' bare feet kicked my naked body across the floor. Master loves watching us gang beat each other for him. He and His Drinking Buddies are sitting back in their chairs, bare chest and bare feet with a cold brew in their hands, cheering my "brothers" on and enjoying the beating.
Most believe slavery ended years ago. It didn't. White slavery still goes on. The Masters are still White but now they have white slaves and slavery is even more advanced than before.
There are no women in our community. The founders of our community somehow got hold of hidden Nazi technology to produce superhuman men, so, in or community, women are no longer needed to produce offspring.
Cloned unfertilized eggs from females of long ago are stored in a freezer at the warehouse on the edge of town. An Owner's injects His sperm into an unfertilized egg. This is then placed in a growth chamber where it's feed and nourished as it grows. Through various injections, the Owner designs His slave as it grows in the chamber. He decides our cock size, balls size, throat and asshole capacity. He decides our height, weight, hair and eye color; even chooses our tit size and color; anything from light brown to cherry pink. Whatever the Owner wants, He gets.
By law, a slave is the property of his Owner and has no rights whatsoever. A slave cannot own anything; not clothes, land, food, not even his own body or mind. All is the property of his Owner.
Since slaves are conditioned for both intense pain and pleasure, we are designed with highly developed healing abilities, so all slaves can fully regenerate and heal given a day or two. This allows an Owner to be as brutal as He wants. He can work His slaves, use and abuse them without the fear of having to replace His slave should He push to hard.
My brothers are sadistic as they beat me. I fight back but fists and kicks come from all directions. I could yell but out here in the backwoods, no one would hear me. And those who did are just like my Owner and wouldn't care what happens to us slaves. Our Owners own us. Besides, this isn't the first time my "brothers" beat me. We beat each other and do all kinds of things to each other all the time. Anything our Owner tells us to do.
We live in a small self-sufficient farming town high in the mountains.
We make what we eat and use so contact with the outside world is not necessary. It is a very close community of about 30,000 men; masters and boys. Every one knows each other so there are no secrets in our town.
The town's center is about five miles north of our shack. There's a small drinking pub there. Like most of the building in the town center, the pub is only for the Owners. Slaves are not allowed in. Signs on the windows let a boy know if he can enter a building or not. If the sign reads, "no trash allowed," we are not allowed in.
The sheriff's office is across the dirt road street from the pub, next to our one and only grocery store, clothing shop, building supplies store and post office. His job is to make sure the Owner's used their boys. Treating a slave too well might give a boy the idea he's an equal to his Master or he might think he's more special than the other slaves. Those are dangerous thoughts for a slave to have. The sheriff makes sure the Owner's are doing their job of keeping the slaves down.
We have a theatre on the other side of the grocery store. Most of the movies are home made. The Owners make them, showing what they do to their slaves and then show them at the theatre on Friday night. Some of the Owners do some pretty perverted things to their boys.
Master Kedrell, the storeowner, made one film where He rammed His foot in the asshole of His slaves, Wyson. Little Nic, Master Kedrell, youngest boy, kept popping in the camera shot every now and then to hold a small bottle under his brother's nose to relax him and help his hole open to take his Master's foot. Wyson, lying on his back with his knees to his chest moaned and sobbed as his Master kept driving His foot deeper and deeper into His slave.
Finally, after a minute or so, Wyson's face turned pale white and tears streamed from his eyes as his Owner forced the last of His foot in His slave's hole.
All the Owners in the theater went wild, cheering and clapping. They loved it. Master Kedrell was sitting in the front row smiling as some of the Owner's gave Him a pat on the shoulder.
The film ended with Master Kedrell's foot buried up to the ankle in His slave's ass. He ordered His slave to spread his legs further apart so the camera could get a better shot. Then He ordered Wyson to put his hands behind his head and smile for the camera even as tears continued to stream down the slave's pasty white cheeks. It hurt the boy but he loved his Owner using him. Every slave loves serving his Owner. We crave it. It what we were made to do.
In the winter, the single road leading up the mountain to our town is icy slick and dangerous. And in the summer, rain storms, haze, fog and rockslides make it just as dangerous. Few visitors come up these parts and that's just the way the Masters like it.
Getting out is just as impossible. The mountain is far too unstable to climb and the sheriff usually watches the only road leading out so no slave can ever escape not that any of us would want to.
Slaves are an important part of our community. We work the crops; build the building and care for our Masters. The more slaves an Owner has the richer He is. My Owner has 21 of us so far.
Master loves fair-skinned blonds slaves so that's how He designed me and my brothers. Some Owners like their boys more tanned. Other like fat boys, muscle boys or skinny boys but around the house, Owner, like all the Owners in the community with their slaves, keeps me and my slave brothers naked.
Since Master has so many slaves, having clothes made for all of us is tough so He keeps the little clothes we do have locked in a cabinet in His room.
Each day, He gives us what He wants us to wear, if He wants us to wear anything at all. And if Master allows us to wear shoes they're only flip-flops, otherwise we are kept barefeet.
Master invited the other Owners over for dinner. Me and my brothers served them. Then we "performed for them."
Master made me and one of my brother's get on the table and suck each other dicks and eat each other's ass. We performed for Master and His Friends as they eat and drank; sitting around us at the table.
I knew He was going to make us fight afterward dinner. Master always makes the boys suck and eat each other before a fight. It's humiliating to have to suck the dick of the slave you might get beat up by but it what Master likes.
Master made me and my brother get in position 69. I had to eat and licked my brother's musky hole while he ate mine.
But I went too far and grind my ass on my brother's pasty face. "Eat my ass, fucker," I sneered at him. Master's Friends laughed . . . but Master thought I was getting a little uppity so instead of having us fight, He had something else in mind to teach me my place.
After dinner, Master called my brothers to gather around. "I want you slaves to kick this fucker's ass. Beat him real bad," He grinned at the other Owners and they grinned back. "You slaves going to do that for your Master?"
My brothers eagerly agreed. Then to hear their loyalty, Master asked my brothers, why they were going to beat me.
"Because you want us to beat him, Master," answered my oldest brothers. My Owner loves that answer. He loves hearing us tell Him that we'll do anything He wants us to do to each other.
"We'll kick his ass for you," shouted one of my brothers. "You want us to make him bleed for you, Sir?"
"Yea," answered Owner. "Make him bleed but first I want you want you to beat him so he can't go outside for a month until he heals."
That's when my brothers tore into me; kicking me and punching me; even spitting on me. It wasn't long before they knocked me down and started kicking me. Their feet kicked my face, stomach, until they finally pinned me down on the floor. One brother sat saddle style across my chest.
Another of my brothers held my hands down on the floor above my head as the rest of my bros struggled, shouldering each other out of the way so they could get their turn at slamming their fist in my face turning it a good shade of black and blue. My Owner and the other Masters cheer.
I start crying and begging for my Owner. He's the only one that can help me but He just watches with a smile and sips His brew. I struggle to break free but my brothers hold me down even tighter.
I know my brothers love me and I love them but we like beating each other for Owner; showing Him we're completely his. Even now, our creamy white dicks are bone stiff and leak pre-cum.
Master yells His orders to my brothers. "Tell him what he is."
My brothers begin to shout slurs at me as they slam their fists into me. "Cocksucker! Fucking No Good Faggot!"
After just a few punches, my brothers have given me a black eye and my nose was busted and red. They beat me until I can no longer defend myself and give up. I'm not angry at them. It's what Master wanted. I've done the same thing to them when Master told me to. I like beating them for Master so I know they enjoy beating me.
"That's Good," says my Owner over the cheers of the other Owners.
"You want us to beat him some more," asks one of my brothers
"Not yet," orders Master. "Get the piercer."
My brothers stop beating me as one of them crawls to a drawer in my Owner's desk and take out an old piercing gun." The needle is kept clean but the gun is so old that it's slow and painful.
Another of my brothers starts pinching my tit to get it to poke out more. Then he places the piercing gun on my nipple. He squeezes the handle and I cry; begging for Master. He's the only one that can help me but He watches with a smile and sips His brew. I struggle to break free but my brothers hold me down even tighter.
I close my eyes, lay still and accept it.
Master and the other Owners, with smiles on their faces, gather around to look at me. "Now, your face is black and blue. Busted up pretty good," laughs Master. "And look, your little pink tits are bleeding for Me." He grins as two thin trickles of blood streamed down my chest from each tit.
All the Owner's like making their slaves bleed for them. It doesn't matter though. We heal in a few days leaving no permanent marks or any damage so the Owners like to abuse us knowing they can do it again and again and again.
"I gotta piss. Pull `em open," orders my Owner as He unbuttons His fly and pulls out His beautiful dick.
My brothers pull open my legs so Master will have a clear shot.
"You got a dick, slave," quips my Owner. "So you think you're equal to me."
"No Master," I stammer as blood and spit seep out of the corner of my busted lip. "Look at me, Sir. Look at what your boys did to me. All for you, Sir. Your dick is the only one that matters in this house."
The other Owners howl with laughter. My head turns away in shame as Master's cock shoots His warm yellow piss on my dick and balls. My brothers hold my legs open until the last of my Owner's piss drops on my dick.
Master steps closer to me. My brothers pull me up to a sitting position. Master holds His dick close to my face. I know what He wants and what I am. I lean forward and lick off the dribble of piss on the head of cock. Master gently takes my chin in His hand and lifts my face to look up at him. "You're just one of faggots, understand."
"Yes Master."
At the snap of Master's fingers, my brothers carry me to the back room next to Master's room. They drop me there, close and lock the door on their way out. I don't know how many days Master will leave me here. But this is where I'll stay until He comes to get me. I'll be feed by a small tray slid under the door. That's if Master wants to feed me. And I'll miss school.
There is a small one-room school where all the slaves attend no matter what age. We are taught the basics like hygiene, grooming, cleaning the house, serving food to our Owner, begging, erotic fighting and taking beatings, sexual pleasuring. Our propaganda history class teaches us our place at our Master's service. We are also taught building and farming techniques. The Masters don't want us to know too much so we are taught very basic reading. Last, we learn highly secret lethal fighting techniques to use only if we have to defend our community from outsiders. Slaves are first and foremost super solders. That was the original intent of the technology our founders gained from the Germans.
Compared to the outside men ^Ö those born of a woman, we of the community are stronger, faster, more resilient than they are. But the Masters worry about the population of the outside men. That's why our community is now in mass production of slaves and why loyalty and discipline are so important among us. A slave must never think of himself first. He must always think of his Master's need and the community; willing to sacrifice himself for them.
Everyday, a boy shows up at school with a black eye or whip marks and we all know his Master beat him or made his brothers beat him or fagged him. Sometimes, well even hear a slave cry out during the night from one of the other shacks and my Owner will shout, "That's it. Beat that fucker!"
It keeps a slave disciplined and willing to accept whatever his Master gives him. But no matter what, my brothers and I, just like all the slaves with their Owners, really love and need our Master so we'll do anything for him. We love it when He uses us and beats us.
The room is empty, silent and tiny, not even enough room to lie straight on the floor. The floor is hard, cold and completely dark. Master likes His boys to shiver for him. From His bedroom, Master can watch me through a one-way mirror.
Some times Master will put us in a dark room for day so we'll get as pale as possible, that way, if He beats us, the bruises show up more.
But when he's ready, Master will allow a little light in the room, just enough for any brother in the room to see his reflection in the mirror on the wall. Then Master will use the microphone in His room to tell us what we have to recite to our reflection for the whole day.
I was able to get a little sleep but my body aches from my beating and the cold hard floor. I don't know how much time has past since my brothers put me in this room; maybe only hours, maybe a day. Master let a sliver of sunlight in the room and it hurt my eyes.
His voice told me to stare in the mirror and say "I'm nothing but trash for Master." Then spit on my reflection and say to my reflection, "you're nothing but trash." I have to do this over and over again until Master tells me to stop. Every slave has to pass through this mind conditioning.
Not knowing when Master might be watching, I recite my chant and spit on my reflection for hours non-stop until my mouth is dry and I completely understand I am nothing but trash. Starring in the mirror and telling yourself what you are makes you completely accept it. I look at my black eye and busted nose and lips and know every word I'm saying to my reflection is true. I am nothing without Master.
Festival is coming soon and I hope my Owner will let me compete for him. At Festival, all the slaves compete from their Owner's name and attention. There are several contests for us boys.
There is the Milk The Fag contest where naked slaves crawl on stage. They arch their backs to keep their asshole high in the air and exposed, while their Master milks their cock like it's a cow utter until the slaves cum. The speed it takes the slave to cum and the amount of `milk' the slave produces is measured. Tight Ass is another contest where a large dildo is shoved up the slave's ass. The dildos get larger as the contest goes along until the slave screams in pain and begs his Master for mercy. The slave is judged on how much he can take before he screams. There are also mud fights and ring toss where the slave tries to catch a ring with his dick and . . .
. . . the Ass Licker's contest where the Masters sit on rimming chairs. Slaves crawl to each Master and lick their holes, while the Masters, holding their clipboard, judge our licking for depth of tonguing, passion and eagerness.
A slave's tongue is given only 15 seconds to win over each Masters. The scores are tallied. I usually win this contest for Master.
And last year, I won the Funky Dance Contest where each slave dances as funky and nasty as he can to impress the Masters.
The Owner whose slaves win the most contests gains the title of Greatest Owner of the Year.
All the Master's take Festival very serious so I think my Master will let me out of this room by then. At least I hope so . . . but for now I stare in the mirror and recite, "I'm nothing but trash for Master." Spit! "You're nothing but trash for Master . . . "
NEXT "FESTIVAL"
There is much that goes on in Hickbilly. I would really like to hear from you so if you like this story or have any constructive comments, please write me and tell me if you would like to hear more. King.kinght@yahoo.com. The actual email address is King dot kinght at yahoo.com. The word "knight" is misspelled but this is the correct email address.