(m/m, m/t, forced, slavery, nc, oral, anal)
This story is (c) Copyright 2007, by MickMack. All World Wide Rights Reserved.
The story below is the epic tale of a totally fictional event. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated. It is gay erotica and is intended to be read by persons who are 18 years of age or older, and by persons that enjoy gay erotica.
The material covered in this story and all other accompanying parts of this story are fictional. Any similarities to persons living or dead are pure coincidence.
Please Note: To those who like reading my material, I apologise for taking so much time in getting this story written and posted. It is a bit off the usual subject matter I play around with, but hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please send your comments to: mickmack999@yahoo.com.au
The Reluctant Slave
The Life and Times of Brad Cahill - Pleasure Slave
1.1 Noel Morgan - Mounting Fury
(Compiled from the Confidential Testimonies of Noel Morgan)
To me, he was nothing more than a smart-assed faggot-girl, a supposedly rough and tough blonde haired guy around school a year younger than me. A queer con-artist who had everyone thinking he was something special.
Well he wasn't something special, and I was the only one who'd picked him out for what he truly was. He was a dirty little low-life pauper from the gutters, no better than the many slaves my family owns.
And yes, it was with great pleasure I personally ground his sorry lying ass into the dirt. Exposing him to everyone for what he really was. And believe me when I say how jubilant I was when I finally got my hands on that cock-sucking queer, and made him confess every one of his conniving faggot ways to all his so called loyal friends.
Just the thought of that faggot-girl made me want to retch up and vomit. And I admit too, that I didn't give a damn what anyone thought when I dealt him the final blow that would knock him off his self-proclaimed perch.
You see, folks down here in the southern states of the United Federation of American States have their own form of justice. So to me, I knew I was doing the right thing, even though everyone thought I was wrong. Sometimes you just got to grab the bull by the balls, squeeze them, expose the truth and then everyone would know what I'd done was the right god-fearing thing to do.
Now don't misunderstand me. I'm definitely not a religious person, so I can tell you God's got nothing to do with any of this.
This was purely about maintaining the social status down here in the south. Where the rich are very well respected, the poor knew their place in life, the Niggers and Latinos kept their heads down and out of view, and all slaves did what they were ordered without hesitation or complaint.
I mean to say! Consider your own situation if some young faggot upstart from the ghettoes suddenly tried to wheedle his way into your own exclusive school, group or social club.
Well, you're right! It just wouldn't be acceptable. You'd be honour-bound to do something about it.
So it was with me! I couldn't allow that cunt Brad Cahill, who'd won a special football scholarship to attend our elite school at the age of 18, to feel he was one of us. And all because some bleeding-heart people, who should have known better, said he was a naturally gifted player who would one day become a nationally recognised sporting icon.
Well for fucks sake, that meant shit to me, because the moment he arrived at our exclusive high school everyone started treating him like some kind of celebrity. But I saw straight through him. As far as I was concerned he was nothing but a social climbing maggot, a diseased poor fuck from the dead end of town. And as far as I was concerned, that's where he should've stayed, accepting his station and status in life.
To top it off, as soon as he arrived, he got appointed to my position as captain of our football team. I mean give me a fucking break. I paid good money for the privilege of taking on our football team captaincy.
Well, believe it or not, I just let it be, even though it was stewing up a storm inside my head.
And to be honest, when I'd first laid eyes on him, I'd even made a play to get him into my bed. I just thought it would have been cool to try out his faggot-girl mouth and pussy, just like I would with any attractive slave boy that caught my eye.
Admittedly he's actually a very good looking. Yes, I admit he's a rather tall and dashing teenage guy, with boyishly youthful yet masculine features, short wavy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes that taunt you in a sexy come-fuck-me queer kind of way.
In fact, if you'd seen him naked in the school gym showers after gym and football practice, you'd understand why all the local women thought he was a living, breathing Adonis. He had nicely defined large muscles with no hint of fat whatsoever, and a smooth hairless torso except around the base of his large swaying very thick uncut cock and under his armpits.
Oh don't sound so shocked, for fucks sake. Yeah, I'm 100% straight, even got me a long term girl. And like most of my buddies here at school, I've even knocked up a few female slave bitches in my time as well.
But like everybody else in this great nation of ours, I'll sleep with anyone I want to, male or female, especially if I can use it to my advantage.
Bedding down free citizen teen guys and roughly dominating them as I fuck them stupid, listening to their pathetic tears and pleas for me not to hurt them, and promising me they'll do whatever I want, has always been a means to gain complete and total power over them.
And that's one thing I truly do love! Absolute power and control!
Best thing though is video recording every one of these illicit fag sex sessions, while always making sure to mask my identity. It's a great way to blackmail them into doing exactly what I want while having a lot of ball-busting orgasmic fun at the same time.
And even though what I do is frowned upon by society, it sure doesn't make me a queer fag!
Thing is, I know the difference between being a real man who knows how to fuck, and fuck hard, and a pansy queer bottom who spreads his legs wide like a whimpering girl, begging to be fucked hard by real men like me.
In our state, if you're known to be a cock sucking faggot, you're very likely to be immediately enslaved and treated worse than any lowly chain-gang slave.
But when that blond haired cunt angrily rejected my invitation to be my fuck-boy, to be my bitch, while also looking down his nose at me and my closest friends, well that did it. In my mind he was now on notice that I'd eventually bust his balls one day.
And once I'd made the decision, I knew I'd just have to be patient, bide my time and wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself to me. Then I would finally own him lock, stock and barrel.
Of course, it wasn't until another two months had past before the opportunity finally presented itself. And when it did, I thanked God the day the stupid faggot-girl stepped in and decided to interfere in my personal family affairs.
It didn't matter I was beating up on my younger brother on that day, getting Evan to act like a man for once in his life in front of all my friends.
The fact faggot-girl had the effrontery to grab me from behind, push me away from my own kith and kin, and then add insult to injury by punching me in the face and knocking me down.
Well that was it! I knew the time had come to take him out once and for all.
And as far as I'm concerned, it was that damn queer's own fault for what I then put into motion, and I knew he'd suffer the consequences for being so smug and high-almighty in front of me, thinking he was better than me.
Of course afterwards, as the dust settled and I knew I'd beaten bitch, made him mine, then I could turn my full attention towards my little brother and finally take care of Evan once and for all too.
1.2 Brad Cahill - The Good Old Days
(Extracts From the Recently Discovered Writings by Brad Cahill - Pleasure Slave)
The best day of my life was when the long awaited letter, delivered by a naked postal slave, arrived to confirm I'd been accepted into the elite all boy's high school college on the other side of town.
I remember clearly how both my parents had jumped up and down with joy, laughing with unconcealed pride for me, and how my two brothers Sean and Justin had looked up at me in awe, grinning with unrepressed brotherly adulation.
You see, my parents aren't wealthy, and we all knew they were struggling to keep us in school. The meager wage Dad brings home from the copper mines as a free citizen is just enough to pay our rent and feed us all. Apart from that, there's nothing left to spare.
So it came as a huge surprise when the coach of our town's most prestige's high school college football team, after watching a game between two local public high school teams in which I was playing, came up to me after the match and offered me a full-time scholarship.
At first we were all skeptical, but when he handed me the official documents I needed to fill out, and then gave dad his business card, well, that's when the real impact hit us. Here was the lucky break we really needed. It's what I'd really worked hard for, a chance for dad and mum to relax a bit, and for me to excel in the sport I loved.
To be honest, I was proud of myself. I'd just turned 18 years old a few weeks before, and standing really tall at 6' 4", with a shock of sandy blond hair and deep blue eyes, many of our relatives and friends kept telling me I should concentrate really hard on football. In their view, if I really practiced hard, I just might get selected to play professionally, and help drag my family out of the depths of poverty we lived in.
Then they'd all go on about how good looking I was too. Kept saying if I didn't make the national pro football circuit, then maybe I should seriously consider becoming a professional male model for some famous fashion magazine.
Of course it always made me blush whenever they said that. But in a strange selfish way, I kind of liked the compliment. Because whenever I looked in the mirror, I'd see my large biceps bulging hugely as I flexed my arms, as well as my deltoid muscles raised high on my shoulders.
I was also proud of my nicely developed pecs expanding prominently whenever I stuck my chest out, and I knew my smooth well defined rock solid washboard abs emphasising my taut flat stomach looked great. All in all, I could see that I really have been blessed in the looks department.
And when it comes to my slim firm hips, tight round bubble-butted buttocks and thick muscled legs, I know that all the hard work I've been putting in at the free citizen's public gym downtown has more than paid off, especially in keeping me in tip-top condition for when I'm playing my favourite sport of all time, football.
But most importantly, regardless of how good I look, I've been taught never to look down at others or judge people because they might not look as good as me. My dad and mum are emphatic in that area, and say me and my brothers all have to be grateful for any small mercies God has granted us in our lives.
Needless to say, my first day at my new school was a mind-blowing experience.
There was nothing to compare with the wealth, glitz and glamour that oozed from the very walls of this very exclusive private school. Also, to my surprise and discomfort, every student had their own personal slave. Believe me, that in itself is an indicator of how posh this high school really was, as only the very wealthy could afford slaves in our town.
The school gym alone boasted an auditorium jam-packed with all the latest state-of-the-art gym and fitness equipment, and the huge indoor Olympic pool, dozen tennis and basketball courts just blew my mind away.
Anyway, within a week of starting there, I was made the team's new quarterback and immediately promoted to being captain. Also, as more and more students and teachers got to know me and come and watch me play and steer our winning team into the semi-finals of the post-season bowls, I was suddenly being proclaimed a young rising star who would go on to rival the amazing records set by the all-time great, Sherman Atherton.
They were exciting heady days, and by the end of the first month, outside of school, I was being propositioned by as many as ten young women a week, all of whom would come to watch me play.
Of course, I never told my parents or brothers about that, as we're all very strict Christians. But I reckon my dad knew I was getting laid on a regular basis, as he'd sometimes slap me on the back heartily and wink whenever my mother would ask me if I'd met any nice Christian girls yet.
Anyway, I was on a high, my young life was looking incredible, and I felt like the future was mine to shape and mould as I moved forward.
Unfortunately, I was left a little dismayed by the attitudes of a small group of students, who hung together and for some reason took an instant disliking to me. I don't know what I'd done wrong to upset them, but the result was I got into a lot of needless scrapes that just shouldn't have happened really.
I mean, I'm not a violent person, but I do know how to stand up for my rights. And if I see one of the younger male students being picked on by two or three other older school bullies, then I'll immediately step in. Besides, it's the Christian thing to do.
Also, I was finding it really hard to accept the way some of the students treated their slaves. Each student was allowed to bring in one male slave from home to look after their daily needs, such as, carry their books and backpacks, run errands to the library, collect their lunches and generally be on hand whenever they were needed.
No female slaves were permitted on the high school premises, as the principal, teachers and parents thought that would be too much of a distraction for a high school full of young randy sexually aware teenage boys.
And as required by law, all slaves wore no clothes whatsoever. Completely naked, they would always stand in the traditional mandatory slave position of hands clasped behind their backs, heads bowed low, legs wide apart and their crotches thrust out in front of their bodies when they weren't serving their masters.
Also, apart from the elaborate brands of their owners' family crest burnt into their left buttocks, they were completely devoid of any body hair, except that which grew on their head.
The most disturbing aspect of it all for me was how they were always forced to maintain a rock-hard erection at all times as they stood silently behind their owners.
One of my close friends eventually clued on to my ignorance and confusion, telling me how the use of micro-chipping always kept slaves erect all the time. It still didn't answer my question really, because I couldn't understand why anyone would want a slave to be erect all the time anyway.
It all seemed a bit bizarre and obscene to me.
Also, many of the slaves wore metal and ceramic piercings of varying sizes and weights all over their bodies, while some even had much of their bodies covered in huge intricately designed tattoos that reflected the incredibly wealthy status of the slave owner's family.
But what I found to be even more distasteful and revolting was every time I walked into the main student common room, or into the boy's gym, shower and toilet block, there would always be quite a number of slaves on their knees, hands behind their backs, heads bent forward as they performed fellatio on their masters or serviced a whole group of their masters' friends.
Also I learned very early on to avoid the student's private resting rooms, which were large dormitory-style rooms expensively furnished with comfortable bunks and cots, for whenever any of the boys needed to have time out and lie down anytime during the day.
The first time I walked into one, my eyes nearly dropped out of my head as I witnessed a young naked slave lying flat on his back, knees bent over his master's shoulders, being roughly fucked on one of the larger double bunk beds. Near them, another slave was positioned on his hands and knees and was being banged from both ends by two older students who were urging each other on in loud ribald voices.
I rushed out of there quick smart, being careful to keep my mouth shut. Because even though homosexuality is illegal in most states of our nation, and anyone found out to be gay is usually enslaved, it seemed sex between free citizen men and male slaves is totally acceptable, even encouraged. But after what I'd seen back there, well I have to admit, I just didn't get it!
To me that just wasn't right. It was repulsive and downright sickening, and sometimes, I would catch a glimpse and see the blank lost looks on some of these poor slave's faces, and wonder how it could be in this modern day of advanced technology, such cruelty and barbarity could still exist.
You see, my brothers and I had been brought up to believe slavery of any type was morally and ethically wrong, and that homosexuality was a terrible mortal sin. But as God-fearing Christians, we had to learn to be tolerant and caring of all those less fortunate than ourselves.
Me, I had to bite my tongue on many occasions and keep my opinions to myself. Regardless of how I personally felt about the sad plight of the enslaved, I knew the law looked down harshly on anybody who openly criticized our supposedly progressive society.
But I also had another problem.
Noel Morgan!
He was 19, one year older than me, and was also a few inches shorter than me. But from the moment I met him, I could tell he didn't like me one bit.
At first he stayed away from me, as if sulking like a spoilt brat, and then he openly stuck his nose up in the air, and loudly proclaimed he didn't support low-life poor scum coming to his school, sponging off the benefits that his and the rest of the student's parents paid to the school.
Most of the other students would laugh and joke about it, explaining to me it was just all sour-grapes. All because I was new and had replaced him as Captain of our school football team. At the time, I just shrugged my shoulders, because I really didn't like him either.
What really shocked me though was late one afternoon, while we were all showering after a very long practice session, Noel and three of his flunkies pushed their way past all the other naked guys to stand next to me in the shower stalls.
At first I tried to ignore him as he suds up under the fine spray of the warm jetting water, but then I could feel him running his eyes all over my wet naked body. And when I glared back at him, I found him staring at my butt cheeks with a strange look in his eyes.
I mean to say, was he perving on me or what?
"You know Brad! Might be great if just you and I got together after school later this week! Bet a good looking poor guy like you could do with making some easy cash! Besides, I ain't been getting any lately and the thought of fucking your tight hole, and letting you be my bitch, really turns me on!" he said to me as he licked his lips and stroked his thickening penis lewdly.
I stared at him in disbelief. Like I mentioned earlier, I knew things like that happened in the world, men having unnatural relations with other men and I admit I saw it happening every day at school between students and slaves. But for Noel to even think that I was that way inclined!
He must have seen the look of fury on my face, because he quickly backed up a bit, uncertain of himself.
"What's your fucking problem? There's nothing wrong if you put out for me and some of my buddies once in a while! Especially for a few bucks! At least you could buy yourself some decent clothes and not look like a low-life derelict scum whenever you're in school." he scoffed, and then he lowered his voice in a conspiratorial tone.
"Besides, no one else need know, and I reckon I'd be doing you a favour if you let me fuck that tight looking pussy of yours!" he said, oblivious to the fact my knuckles were turning white at my sides.
Instantly I stepped up to him, raised my fists and glared into his eyes.
"If you and your friends don't get the fuck out of my face and away from me right now, I'm going to beat the living crap out of the lot of you. Now fuck off!" I said, my voice rising with menace as I took a step closer to him.
"Well fuck you, low-life! You don't have to get all riled up! Just trying to be friendly!" he growled back at me and for a moment I thought he was going to challenge me before he suddenly spun around and stormed off.
It was Daniel Maddox, who was a year younger than me and who'd become a close friend since I'd first enrolled, who finally walked up to me shaking his head nervously.
"I'd stay out of Noel's way if I were you! He's a nasty bit of work, and his family is the most powerful people in this state. So you don't want to go upsetting him or any of his friends!" he warned as he toweled himself dry.
I'd thought that would be the end of Noel Morgan and any problems I might have with him. He did stay away from me, and even when we were together at training or when playing a match, he'd pull his weight and do what I told him.
But we finally had another run-in two months later.
One thing about me is I'm a really sociable guy. I like to meet people, especially the other students at school, and I don't care what grade they're in, or whether they're into sports on not. As long as they're cool and friendly, well I got time for them. So it came as a bit of a surprise when I suddenly bumped into Evan one morning. He wasn't watching where he was going as he was walking along reading a text book, and after bouncing off me, found himself on his back looking up into my concerned face.
That's when I saw the look of terror on his face. Poor kid! He thought I was going to beat him up or something.
"You okay? Come on, let me help you up!" I said to him as I held out my hand. At first he just stared at it and then back into my face before he allowed me to help him stand.
We kind of became friends in a strange sort of way. I know he was in awe of me, but anytime I saw him close by, I'd go up and talk to him and see how he was. And even though he was one grade below me, I figured he was okay, a bit of a loner, and if I saw anyone hassling him, I'd immediately step in and break it up.
What I didn't realise, was Evan happened to be Noel's younger brother. How stupid of me! It never occurred to me that they could have been brothers, and no one told me either. Noel, even though he was an absolute arsehole, was very athletic, kept in shape, stood 6' tall and had a spoilt confidence about him that was totally lacking in Evan.
Evan on the other hand, was a short kid, probably 5' 5" in height, really skinny, and tended to like to hang out with all the computer geeks and in the library. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just took me by surprise when I found out they were related.
But find out I did. One afternoon I found myself walking to my next class, when I came across Noel as he was beating up on Evan in front of about twelve other students.
I couldn't help myself when I stepped forward, grabbed Noel from behind and pulled him up off Evan's cringing body, all the while, telling Noel to cool it and calm down.
At first he was confused, unaware someone had manhandled him in such a way, but as he turned around and saw it was me, he suddenly went ape-shit and came swinging at me with his fists. Well, for me, that was enough.
I took one look at Noel and laughed at how stupid he looked, pulled back my fist, and before he knew what had hit him, punched him right in the jaw. He went out like a light, collapsing on his back on the ground.
Anyway, as I helped Evan to his feet, asking him if he was okay, I heard Noel start to moan as he woke up. He'd only been out for a few seconds, but I could see he was disorientated, gazing around in a daze. Suddenly I felt a bit guilty I'd landed him such a hard one like that.
Feeling a bit ashamed, I went over and reached down to offer him my hand.
"Come on Noel! Sorry I had to do that, but you left me no choice. Here, let me help you up." I said, but to my surprise, he swatted it away, stared at me with a glare of pure hate, and once he'd stumbled back up onto his feet, he walked away rubbing his chin.
"Thanks Brad, I really appreciate what you did for me. But I've got to warn you. You'd better watch your back from now on, because I know my brother, and he'll come after you with a vengeance!" Evan said sadly to me, as he picked up his school books and quickly headed for his next class.
To Be Continued...
(If you liked the story, please send feedback to mickmack999@yahoo.com.au)