Disclaimer: All rights reserved. No part of the story can be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author, MACK Wayne.
slaveMaster Tempter
Ch - 7 The Deed
Max was a born collector. It was in his blood. It was all sensual to him - all the variables, and how they got played - the hunt - donning a disguise as he did to ferret Jake out - spotting a potential - sometimes stalking it - setting the snare - gaining the target's confidence (in cases where that was a part of the game) - trapping it - bringing it in, whether by force tied up in the back of the van with the help of his assistants - or even better, as in the case of Jake, having it walk itself voluntarily into the lair. There was something however, about the period after the target's fate was sealed, but before he knew it, that had possibly the strongest pull of all. It was that, "Goose is cooked, with the victim as yet unaware," component of the equation that offered such appeal to Max - was such a critical enduring part of the game, and why he was enjoying drawing this phase out.
Bob purchasing the slave even before using it or allowing it to be aware, made the taste of this period that much sweeter. Every millisecond of this scenario was tweaking the intensity of Max's dark instincts. The hard-on in his pants was every bit as lustful as the gigantic piece preceding Bob by more than a foot he was about to literally rip his slave a new one with - his licentious spirit as linked with Bob's as was possible. They were, in this moment, almost as one. Max would practically feel Jake's pussy tearing when Bob raped it. And make no mistake - regardless of the distinct please for Bob to fuck him that had been coming from the lips of his victim before the gag, it would be RAPE - pure and simple.
Jake had no idea what he was begging for, but he would soon find out. His ass was a perfect target for Bob. With his orientation as a top, it had seen almost no action. It was not ready in any sense of the word for what it was about to undergo. For Bob it was the best (almost the only) kind of sex. He'd had a few in his experience that were either fist bottoms or had been stretched out with large toys that could take it when he fucked them - but his pleasure was never complete in those instances. From very early on, the usual condition for his voluntary receivers was their agreement to being restrained. He'd finesse them into the idea "for fun," because almost invariably he knew once he started - if they were able - they would stop him. With that variable abated, the resultant screams, and objections, and pleas for him to stop, and the "NO's" he'd heard all his life, had become half the enjoyment.
The adage that once a participant says, "no" it's rape? Well, sex for Bob had been about rape from the beginning, or he wouldn't have had any - and the resistance and screams and pleas had become the cock stiffening music to his ears he needed, wanted, and felt he deserved. His universe had given him an unnatural horse cock, it followed naturally there would be victims for its use and pleasure. Their fascination with its look and size were what he used to rope them in, and raping was just his necessary way of taking advantage of them to satisfy himself. "NO," was one of his favorite - most often heard - ignored words.
Max watched Bob walk to the business end of his suspended purchase. With drink in one hand and his horse meat in the other, he stood silent - stroking himself - pensively - lustfully - surveying every centimeter of the exquisite form of his new property, "Max had been exactly right," he thought to himself, "It WAS perfect for him. Worth every penny of the price." He stood - pussy ripper inches from the portal to its new personal, private, bought and paid for, pleasure chamber, and obsessed over what the boy would know at his hand. Critically scanning - as one does with any new item - his mind drifted to what sorrows and pain the boy would be forced to endure - how politely, respectfully, even worshipfully, he would suffer and serve - no longer a person, but an object - property.
The ideally shaped head with its full close cropped haircut and beautiful young masculine face rested almost peacefully on the thick leather pillow - the oral fuckhole secured open and filled with the bright red ball gag, negating its ability to clearly express the verbal pleas it was so obediently offering. The syllabic sounds were evidence enough, "Eeee uuuu eeee uuuu," with the attempt to close its lips on the first one each time for the word, "Please."
Wrists were secured - not high where arms could fight to pull him up or away, but down low where biceps could flex full and round - functionless for defense, but offering additional visual beauty to the form. In his nervousness they were twitching and flexing even as Bob surveyed. Armpits reeking of ample nervous musk were delightfully exposed. Bob loved deep hairy armpits. He walked around to the boy's side and put his nose in one of them - now his - to revel in the scent he was in part causing. Some males he'd experienced didn't emit much odor. Jake's pits were strongly scented much to Bob's delight. He lingered, inhaling slowly and deeply before withdrawing from its inebriating influence.
With the familiarity of ownership Jake couldn't possibly have known of or understood yet, Bob ran his hands over hard peck muscles and allowed his fingers to luxuriate through the hair covering them and trailing down onto rippled abs, ending in a thick forest of dark crotch bush. The considerable cock and balls were examined including the piss slit which he stretched open and peered into. Bob went to the head end of the sling - reached out and took the slaves/ his big protruding nipples in his fingers. Mimicking the action he'd watched Jake use when rotating on display and playing with himself, he rolled and pinched them. Although already proud well sized protrusions, before long they became noticeably larger and more erect. Bob watched the erotic connection with the boy's cock causing it to twitch and begin to stir. Involuntary moans began to be included with the sounds of his pleas. There would not be a part of the slave's body that would not know suffering and pain and torture - but for now Bob's pre-rape exploratory touch was gentle and sensual. Satisfied with a cursory torso inspection, he returned to his vantage point from the bottom.
The slave's big feet and thick hairy muscle-laden legs were spread far apart - held up by inescapable ankle restraints dangling on the outsides of the widespread chains suspending the sling from the ceiling. The arrangement afforded the victim no leverage with which to push away from his attacker. There would be no way for him to protect or defend himself against the intensity of the assault he was about to undergo. Bob loved the feel of his slave's hairy thighs and calves and when he reached the feet, discovered they were quite ticklish. He played with the sensitive soles for a bit. As the boy's pleas had been enjoined by moaning with his attention to the sensitive nipples, they were now accompanied by laughter from his attention to the equally - in their own way - sensitive feet. The legs jerked back from the tickling - a natural involuntary reaction. He would enjoy putting this feature to good use on occasion.
He caressed that region where man never touches man when he's bare skinned - maybe a congratulatory slap on the (fully clothed) ass on the athletic field, but not bare assed and never lingering. It was one of those territories Bob loved on a male because of its "nether region" nature. It was the place he always thought about when seeing one in his underwear in a locker room - the place where upper thigh (so thoughtlessly available for public viewing) abruptly ends, and glorious ass - in this case a fuzzy bubble butt (so personal and private - by invitation only) begins.
He'd been so fascinated from youth - on vacations to Australia to visit relatives - at how their lifeguards willingly flaunted that part of themselves. How he reveled in it and what lengths he had to go to, to conceal his resultant erections - his unnatural endowment a decided disadvantage.
Since he started having sex it had been one of his favorite parts of the male physique. This one, he now owned. He lingered, even getting down on his knees and kissing the area, all, leading toward and inclusive of the target. That - he began to suppose as he matured - created his fascination with the territory - the fact of where it lead - the reason men in general - but especially American men - considered their asses so private.
He got close, but didn't inspect THAT, other than visually. Not even touched by a finger, his "first contact" with the precious pucker - now his property - had an appointment with destiny. That portal and the channel behind it had a special reservation. It was being reserved for his elephantine breeding poker, and it was time to christen, mark, and claim it. Max's game had all been a great deal of fun, but it was this painful act of claiming - christening, and marking Jake. This single act would forever serve as a line of demarcation between having been a man and becoming an object - between self-determination and obligatory and unquestioning obedience. It would effectively negate all Jake had been as a person, and establish everything he would become as property. In short, it would be celebrated as the commencement rite of the one who had been known as Jake, into its new existence as Bob's slave and subject.
Bob was like a kid enjoying a new toy, or a guy with a new expensive sports car in the driveway - just being tactile with it, familiar with it, admiring it, looking toward playing with it or driving it - only this was a hundred - no, a thousand times more thrilling than either example. This new toy could interact and react. It was sentient - had emotions and a mind that could be used and played with as well as a physical form.
Bob tore himself away from his intense, enjoyable, familiarization process and picked up his drink - which Max had freshened for him. With the expression of immense satisfaction on his face he looked at Max. He held out his glass, and as Max reacted in kind, their glasses clinked, "I love it man," he said, with the sound of matching satisfaction in his voice, "I really love it."
Max beamed and almost gloatingly replied, "I can see that. I knew you would."
Bob stroked the massive cock that had been preceding him by more than a foot the whole while, as he turned back to his purchase, "Look at it man. It's beautiful. And because of you it's mine. I can't thank you enough. You were right. It's perfect for me." They sipped a few minutes more and Bob made his pronouncement. I'm ready for a test drive. Could I use the handles?
"Of course you can use the handles. Don't be silly," Max guaranteed. Their discussion in front of the preoccupied boy was going right over his befuddled head. Max went to the door and told Dieter - standing right outside in attendance, as usual in instances such as this - to get the fuck handles.
"Yes Sir Boss," he said, as he disappeared down the hall. Shortly he returned with the requested item, "Want me to put it on Boss?"
Max looked at Bob for his approval. He offered it with casually, shrugged shoulders, "Sure. That would be great," Dieter walked to the sling and maneuvered its occupant to apply the object. It consisted of a wide belt-like affair made of military strength webbing or belting which strapped tightly to the lower torso around the hip region. On each side of the belt strap was a length of the same strong webbing with a stiff handle wide and thick enough to wrap a hand around and grab onto, stitched strongly, and securely, on its end. The construction of the device - like a piece of gym equipment - was strong enough that a man could do pull ups with the handles - but pull ups had nothing to do with their function. They were - as the name implied - fuck handles - designed to gain firm purchase on a man to pull him onto the cock of the one fucking him. The straps of the handles could be lengthened or shortened for the users comfort - for best manipulation - in this case - of Bob's slave - his rape victim.
Dieter worked to secure the belt strap under and around Jake's torso - fastened it tightly around him at the hip line and stepped away for Bob's approval. Bob examined it and asked that Dieter lengthened the straps by an inch or so. He happily complied, and left the room.
Bob asked Max if he would "do the honors," and grease the hole. Max was delighted. He took a basting syringe filled with clear lube and put the tip of it to the exposed sphincter - a little smeared around the outside to accommodate Bob's entrance, and then the tip inside. He squeezed the bulb while pushing it all the way in and pulling it out. About eight inches was the extent of the penetration, but some was extruded with a little extra force on the bulb beyond that point, instantly readying the tight fuck chamber for it's new owner's assault.
As Jake groaned just from the baster intrusion, both men became mindful of just how entertaining and intense Bob's ride was going to be. A few more lingering sips on their drinks and he was ready to ride. He was as lustful as he'd ever been - and this horse-cocked Man was lustful - intensely, and often. He'd kicked the tires long enough however. Driving time was at hand.
The pillow under Jake's head and two critically placed mirrors above, insured the boy's unimpeded view of the action from three different vantage points. From between his wide stretched legs, Jake could watch Bob in the flesh - or with the mirrors he could witness his assault either from the side, or down from directly overhead. He was warned not to close his eyes other than to blink - to be sure to look straight at Bob or watch him in either mirror at all times. Closing his eyes would be considered an inexcusable insult. The sling was adjusted to the perfect height as Bob lined up horse-cock tip with "bull's eye." The cock looked so huge by comparison to the hairy little pucker hole it was about to invade. It LOOKED that way because it WAS that way. Bob's bone hard cunt reamer stood straight out in front of him more than twelve thick cut inches, and its fat mushroom head was even bigger than the body.
"Ok boy. You're going to get what you've been begging for. The words were a brazen proclamation, an unnerving threat, and a final warning, all rolled into one. He grabbed hold of the fuck handles and adjusted his grip as if readying himself in the stalls for a wild bull ride, "Watch!" was his admonition, with a final order, "Relax and push my pussy out!" It WAS his both by purchase and by virtue of leading the boy into saying it was just earlier. How little he understood the truth of his proclamation.
Bob wasn't satisfied with the boy's unacceptable effort. He knew from VAST experience, if the hole were forcibly dilated from inside pressure, there would be less resistance, and before his toy could grasp what was happening, he'd be in, "Pretend you're taking a shit boy!" he yelled, and continued yelling, "Show me your insides! I won't fuck you until I see you cooperating with me! You gonna fuck this up too?" The combination of the threatening tone and humiliating reminder worked. Jake pushed hard to please his CO standing there watching, and Bob saw what he wanted. "Atta boy. Now just hold that for a minute."
Red faced from keeping himself dilated, Bob let Jake repeat one more resultantly exaggerated plea - those lips as always - trying to close on that first syllable, "Eeeee! Uuuuu! Eeeee! Uuuuuu!" He held tight, pulled back on the fuck-handles, drove his pelvis forward with the force of a ramming rod, and in the blink of an eye he had buried himself in the waiting hole all the way to the bone. He could drive no further. The lube had done its work. Every centimeter of bob's extraordinary length and fat girth was swallowed up. It disappeared completely inside what used to be Jake's asshole - full depth penetration just as he'd intended on the first thrust. The formerly relaxed fuck toy's body went rigid. Every muscle flexed involuntarily. His oral noises stopped momentarily while his mind tried disbelievingly to grapple with what had just happened, and after a brief the instant of silence, a scream of full force ferocity came from the depths of the fuck toy's lungs - what would have been ear splitting were it not coming from around the big red ball.
His legs tried to push him away from the onslaught, but found only open air. As hot hairy thigh muscles flexed and rippled, they just splayed themselves wider apart - a brief period of silence as he sucked air in both from around the slobbery ball and nostrils to refill his depleted lungs, and a renewed scream. Max removed the gag. NOW it was deafening, "AAAAHHHHAAAAHHHHH !!!!! " came forth with untold volume.
No more begging was needed. That for which he had so accommodatingly been pleading, had begun. It was as if a white-hot poker had been shoved up inside him - searing the walls of his rectum, and his intestines were being split open. Jake was as close to a virgin as there could have been, with what little, insignificant, and infrequent anal activity he had so sincerely chronicled for the men while convincing and pleading accommodatingly with Bob to do to him exactly what he was doing. He had no concept as to what the man's acceptance of his plea would mean.
Bob held on and stayed buried deep up inside Jake's body for about ten seconds (an eternity for Jake) and then pulled abruptly free as the fuck hole's screeches turned into breathlessly yelled pleas for mercy. "NOOOOO !!!!! PLEEEEEZ !!!!!! NOOOOO MMOOORRE !!!!!" As Bob was positioning himself for re-entry, Jake addressed Max frantically. "MAX SIIIRR . . . PLEEESE SIIRRR! IM SORRY FOR FUCKING UP, BUT PLEEEZ SIIRRR!" He was half hollering and half crying as his pleas for mercy emanated. He felt the head of Bob's cock against his asshole and looked at him pleadingly. "PLEEEESE MISTERRRR?" he hollered. Jake didn't even know the man's name that now owned him and was pleasurably ripping him open. Somehow his ignorance was totally befitting, "PLEEEZE SIIIRRRR !!
"OK BOY! He yelled. I SAID YOU COULD STOP BEGGING FOR IT WHEN I STARTED FUCKING YOU, BUT YOU'RE STILL GOING. I HEAR YOU. YOU GOT IT!" Was Bob's shouted reply to what he knew was a cry for mercy as he plunged back into the pain wracked opening. Jake wanted to clarify, but only hollers came out. Max put a hard rubber ring gag in Jake's mouth and strapped it in place. It would keep the fuckhole open for maximum noise, but totally eliminate its capability for intelligible speech.
Bob told his victim to go ahead and holler if he loved having his horse cock fucking his pussy. He yanked on the handles, drove with his pelvis, and plowed into the pain-racked hole like a banshee. The men shouted to be heard over the blood curdling noise. With the power, force, and rapidity, of a jackhammer, Bob rode and Jake yelled out his retained wide-open mouth - tongue flailing to form only indiscernible syllables. The men might not have understood words, but they knew full well the need and desire being expressed - pleaded for - begged for. Now, THESE were sincere pleas - words or not.
"SOUNDS LIKE HE'S REALLY ENJOYING IT," Max feigned, at the top of his voice.
"YEAH - LISTEN TO THAT HOLLERING! HE LOVES IT!" Bob returned. Bob fucked the way few were capable of fucking, and Jake yelled - endorsing by his screams - according to his instructions - every blindingly agonizing thrust Bob was taking. He rode, almost completely withdrawing, and plunging back in to full depth - twelve plus inches of fiery stroke friction and channel splitting bore with almost every lunge. Sometimes he would actually pull completely out - be sure of a line up - no hands needed - and plow back in. Jake careened off Bob's crotch bone like a flailing rag doll every time he crashed forcefully into the defenseless target. The boy had never known such pain.
Barely able, but afraid not to, he watched - completely without defense - as his rapist assaulted him. From the side view he could see the man's balls slamming into him below his huge cock. The cock was so enormous, he hadn't paid them much attention, but they were fittingly enormous low hangars, doing some serious swinging and slapping up against him from the force of Bob's lunges. Vision distorted by his bouncing, he still could see the unmistakable look of ecstasy on his attacker's face - lost in euphoric pleasure while delivering such anguish.
He tried desperately to form the words, "LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" but that pitiful flailing tongue did nothing to make the awful noises discernable. After fucking for a while Bob shouted to Max, "I'M TOO HOT TO HOLD OFF! I'M GOING TO DUMP IN IT AND PUT IT TO BED. YOU HAVE A PLUG?" Max produced just what was needed. A little while longer ramrodding, and Bob let himself pass the point of no return. He pulled on the handles, drove tight to the bone, and held firm. Jake SCREAMED, and Bob ROARED as he jerked uncontrollably. With each violent ejaculatory spasm he pissed a stream of his sperm into his new hole, marking and claiming it for all time (or for as long as he wanted it.) He remained in Jake for agonizing minutes - roars and spasms, turning into groans and jerks, turning into moans and short thrusts. Just as he had said, "No clean up necessary." He emptied himself of one of his usual enormous loads from those big balls before pulling free. And as soon as he was clear of the pummeled hole, Max centered the overly large plug and rammed it into place renewing Jake's agonizing cries.
"Here" Max said, stepping into position with the retention harness, "You rest. I'll do this." Bob retreated - sat down and watched, spent, as Max deftly secured the fat plug securing it in place with the locking leather straps. Max reached out and shook Bobs hand, "Well done! Congratulations on your new fuck hole! Enjoy it in good health!"
They dressed leisurely while ignoring the attempts of their loud victim to communicate. Max suggested they adjourn for a cigar and let the freshly christened fuck toy wind down a little. Bob walked back between the out spread legs where he'd just been, and rubbed them like you would caress a marble statue. He felt the skin and hair and let his hand run down to the plug retaining his freshly produced - first of many - voluminous deposit of semen. "It really is a beauty isn't it?" he said.
"It's a you if ever I saw one - even down to its occupation." Max replied.
"You've got a good eye there Max. And the ass is perfect. It's going to give me many hours of pleasure." He pushed on the plug and elicited fresh intensity in the yells from his slave's gaping mouth. "I can't wait till he comes out of the stupor he's in. I'd like him to sleep for 10 or 12 hours Max. Can you give him something?" Max said he'd be happy to, and that when he woke up he'd be fully functional and aware. Do you want me to give him something to avoid a huge headache as well?"
The men left the room discussing how Bob wanted the details handled. He said he'd be back tomorrow with the rest of the money to pick up his property. He wanted it slept warm in one of Max's cells and he wanted it to be allowed to wake up on its own. He wanted to be called when it looked like Jake was coming around. Max reminded Bob that the address book would be there before long. They both new the value of the leverage produced by that kind of item. It would be invaluable, and Bob thanked Max for supplying it.
The men returned to the "get acquainted room," and talked for a half hour or so. Max paged Dieter and told him to meet he and Bob in the room where Jake was hanging. When Max opened the door Bob's beauty was making noises from his open mouth. His head was rolling slowly from side to side and there were tear tracks from the outside corners of his closed eyes. The only thing in the victim's muddled mind was the pain coming from his ravaged, cum filled, plugged, rectum. He could feel every heart beat in the walls of his raped pussy as they clung so tightly to the large unwanted object keeping his hole from closing, and its new owner's massive load from escaping. In a half hour the pain had hardly subsided - the static nature of the large plug keeping it at a barely manageable level. The hollering had moderated, but pain was still all that was in Jake's private little world. Closed eyed, he was not even aware of the men until Bob got up next to his ear and whispered his poignant question. "How's my pussy, boy?"
The hot naked figure issued a startled grunt and opened his eyes. An expression of fear racked his face at the realization his rapist was back. The breathing accompanying his loud groans became nervously irregular and with his mouth being held open, his swallowing difficult. Bob continued his whispers just loud enough for Max (and now Dieter) behind him to hear, "That about the worst pain you've ever experienced?" The fuckhole's head shook rapidly up and down in an affirmative nod. You could see the tongue moving uselessly inside the open mouth, and the lips too were active desperately trying to form the words, "Please no more! Please no more!" As before, however, the sounds were not intelligible - appropriately only noises.
Bob reached one hand down to where the plug was being sucked up tightly against Jake's pussy opening. As he whispered he tapped it ever so lightly and watched Jake break out in a sweat. "Would you like to lay down in a bed and go to sleep boy?" Relieved - uneasily - Jake shook his head again, nervously up and down, "Then I tell you what, if you will start right now begging me to fuck you just like you did before, and not stop until you're in bed, I'll let you go to sleep. Deal?"
The head shook up and stopped then cautiously down and stopped. Bob had to kick him into gear. He was frozen at the thought of asking for it, now that he knew what it was he was asking for. So he pushed in on the plug and spoke impatiently at the same time. "Well?"
A very loud and startled, "Please fuck me Sir!" came forth. The syllabic configuration and the vowel sounds indicated - as earlier - his compliance with the "suggestion." "Eeeee uuuuu eeeee uuuuu." The sound of the pleas was egregious, as the once proud man struggled with his assignment. Max told Bob just to relax, that he and Dieter would take care of things. Together they removed the so effective bonds and extracted the tortured, discombobulated, fuckhole from the sling. It crumpled like an accordion weak-kneed to the floor - its torturously raped, agonizingly stuffed, pain-wracked pussy the only thing in its manipulated consciousness.
One under each arm, the two men picked the pile off the floor and impatiently told Jake to stand. Wobbly at best, with one arm held by each around his neck, they half walked, half carried, their jelly-like victim out between them. Bob followed the stumbling merchandise down the hall listening to the sounds of it begging for what now he knew the terror of. Saliva trailed out of the open mouth and wet the hair on his chest and belly before it ran into his crotch. From behind, Bob watched the beautiful ass cheeks flex and relax as Jake tried to walk in between the men. The plug retention strap locked around his waist and the accompanying vertical cunt strap widened at the plugs base, assured it would remain in place, "Love how the big plug base distorts things around his cunt," Bob said, as he watched the sexy bubble cheeks rise and fall with each attempted step. Bob reveled in thoughts of the fact it would assure the containment of his massive load in his "toy" for the night.
He thought about making Jake shit the load into a cup and having him drink it when he woke up tomorrow. He shared his idea with Max and they both laughed in agreement. From behind, Jake was just as stunning as from in front. Massive arms lay draped across the shoulders of his escorts. Thickly muscled shoulders and a broad deeply dimpled muscular back led in a "V" taper down to a narrow waist and that beautiful bubble butt - all supported by big legs like those of a soccer or football player.
Legs and arms were haired, and there was a delightful patch of it on his lower back, which trailed down and caressed the cunt plug and strap between distorted globular cheeks. Lighter traces of body hair caressed his shoulders and upper arms. There was a deep bronze construction worker tan. The harness strap was the line of demarcation between light and dark at the waist as if it had been planned, and the beefy legs and calves were bronze between a sock line and mid thigh from Bob's carpenter wearing shorts on the job. The lily-white ass almost glowed as cheeks bounced to the rhythm of his forced steps. From any angle this was a thing of beauty.
A quick elevator ride and they were in the cellar. Max had spared no expense in turning a good portion of it into a jail and torture facility. There were cages, cells, and every manner of equipment imaginable. They entered the area to the groans of its only other occupant at the moment. The slave Jake had thought he was coming to see, did exist exactly as it had been described, and had been procured precisely the way Max said. Now however, to Jake - within his own little drug enhanced world of mental reorganization by his captor, and preoccupied with the agony from his rape and the unrelenting pain from his cunt stuffing, the sounds coming from the rooms occupant weren't registering, nor did the false promises of seeing and experiencing this "real slave" Max had used as effective temptation luring Jake into his lair, even exist in his foggy mind.
They walked their stumbling naked charge through the open door of a cell - over to a wooden frame bed with a bare mattress on it and backed him up against it. Dieter held onto him to steady him as he wobbled and groaned with the intense pain in his tortured cunt and deep in his gut. "Ok, shut up now," Max said. He unfastened the cruel ring gag from the boy's gaping, drooling, hole, and removed it. He put sleeping pills into the open mouth - shoved the boy onto his knees - took out his dick and held it to Jake's lips. "Drink!" he ordered, "Something to help with the pills," he said, as he urinated in the boy's mouth and then pulled free. As he did so he held Jake's mouth open and issued his warning, "If one intelligible word comes out of this hole - " he worked up a hocker, tipped the boy's head back, and spit it down into Jake's mouth, " - I'll make you eat every ounce of shit in that bucket you voided in. Do you understand me boy? You can moan and groan all you like, but you'd better not speak!" On being questioned, Jake's head was nodding that he understood.
Max and Dieter lifted the boy off his knees and sat him down on the hard bed on the plug. He let out a holler and Max slapped him hard in the face. It was his first corporeal contact with the boy and it felt good. It was time, "I said you could moan and groan, not yell!" The boy tried to contain himself sitting on the plug filling his raped raw cunt as Max laid the slave down and covered it with a wool military blanket, "Go to sleep," was the final order.
Jake rolled onto his side - fetal position - with the pillow under his head, and with presence of mind enough to answer, did so, "Yes Sir." Bob, Max, and Dieter, walked out locking the barred cell door behind them. They watched the new slave close its eyes unaware of their lingering presence. As they walked down the corridor to leave, they listened to Jake's moans and groans trailing off. The drug was strong and fast acting. In no time the defiled new slave (unaware), filled with the voluminous load of its Master's ball juice would be asleep.
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Comments welcome: mackxwayne@hotmail.com Other Nifty Story: A slaves Induction The man behind the words - MY website http://www.MACKsf.com