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 - 8 The Next Day
It was indeed ten hours later when Bob got Max's call. "Come on over Bob. Your fuck hole is beginning to stir." Max told Bob that Jake would be fuzzy at first but if he left him awake in the cell for an hour he would remember most everything fairly clearly. He said that he'd had the sealed bucket of shit put in the cell so he would be reminded not to speak. Bob thought that was a great idea. He grabbed the rest of the money and headed for Max's. Along the way he passed a construction site and saw a laborer, which reminded him of his new pet-boy-slave-fuckhole-pussy-toy. He thought about last nights events and how they all played out.. His first sight of he hot thing coming naked and wet from the bathroom and Max scolding him in front of him was so sensual. He surprised himself at how quickly he began to entertain thoughts of owning what he was seeing and analyzing. Max's use of the drugs and alcohol to screw the victim's mind, and the effective ways he did it were particularly titillating. More sexual than any emotional/ mental manipulation he'd seen, he gained a new respect for Max's expertise and capabilities. By the time Max was ready for it he was able to collar and leash Jake - lead him by it to the sling, and install him in it without objection.
Bob had actually been so convinced of its desirability, he wanted to own the boy before even thoroughly inspecting or using it. But the erotic inspection in the sling was total affirmation before the "test drive." How licentiously entrancing raping the boy had been - stepping up to his fresh new fuckhole hole and burying himself to the bone first lunge - those wonderful pleas to stop he loved so much. His dick was hard thinking how the mind numbing screams of agony added to the pleasure of his leisurely full depth strokes in and out of the tight pussy which was now his bought and paid for property. He thought about how unbearable and gut wrenching the pain must be those last deep inches so far inside, as with each stroke his dick head penetrated through and well past that second sphincter adding a vibratory effect he always achieved, and had loved all his life. Sometimes he would just rub his head in and out of that stricture telling his victims that it was almost like reaching inside and jerking himself off.
Horns were honking as Bob realized the light had turned green while he was engrossed in high thoughts. He arrived at Max's to be told by Dieter to go on up - that Max was in the control room. Bob fond him at the monitors watching Jake by the remote camera in his cell. Max had cameras literally all over. Every aspect of the nights activities before would be available for Bob's (and of course Max's) nefarious pleasure. "You're just in time," Max said. "Your boy is just regaining consciousness."
Together they watched Jake fidget, toss, and turn as he began to come around. Max had turned up the heat so he would toss off the blanket and it was working. He was shedding it completely, and the beautiful naked body was coming into full view. The cock was almost fully hard as he rolled onto his stomach and began dry humping the mattress. The ass flexed and he hugged his pillow as he fucked the partner in his dream. His head was turned away from the camera so his eyes couldn't be seen as Bob asked Max a question. "You don't think he's conscious do you?"
"Trust me," Max said. "You'll know when this boy wakes up." Just then the humping stopped and Bob's new pussy raised itself up on its elbows. Its head turned to expose open eyes that were blinking and a mouth that was agape in disbelief.
"NOW he's conscious." Max said.
Jake rolled onto his side and faced the cell door. He rubbed his head and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked down at the locked leather harness and felt around behind at the plug it was retaining. His face screwed up into a look of discomfort and objection as remembrances started coming back. He fiddled with the leather strapping to find it was quite secure.
"A-a-a-aÉ" Jake was starting to speak and cleared his throat as he spotted the sealed bucket in the corner of his cell. The words came flooding back to his brain "one intelligible word and I'll make you eat every ounce of shit in that bucket!" He was quiet instantly. He tried to sit up but the pressure on the butt plug made him moan out in pain as it embedded more deeply, and the huge girth grated against his raw, sore pussy walls.
He stood to relieve the problem. Movement helped only a little. With difficulty and while he had adjusted slightly to the intruder strapped in his ass, it was with painful discomfort he walked exaggeratedly bowlegged toward the cell bars to investigate the groaning he was hearing, and to see if he could see anyone else . Max's men were purposefully absent, but as Jake looked to the left in the direction of the noise, he could see the figure of a beautiful young man also naked, on a platform about table height. He was secured to the table on hands and knees. His head faced forward and was strapped to an affair holding a realistic rubber dildo in his mouth. And part of the contraption held another one rigidly in his asshole! Every-so-often, he moved back burying the one in his ass and then forward forcing the one in his mouth deep into his throat. It seemed to be voluntary movement, He wondered how long the pretty boy had been doing the self-violation exercise.
Jake was beginning to remember, and things were flooding back to him. He figured this kid on the impaling device to be the slave he'd come to see. He remembered meeting the man in the bar - Max was his name. The drive to Max's came back - the big garage door - the small room where he stripped for Max. He looked at the bucket again and remembered voiding into it. He tore himself away from watching the beautiful kid fuck himself on the rubber dicks and lay back down on the bed. He starred at the ceiling and ran his hands over his crew cut head pulling them down on his face and leaving them there to reconstruct the events leading to being behind these bars with a huge plug locked painfully inside his so sore ass.
The more he thought the more worried he got. The more he remembered, the worse off he began to see himself. He winced as he relived being fucked so savagely. He heard himself begging for it and saw himself stroking the man's huge cock with both hands. He also remembered the feeling of letting Max down and wanting to make things right for his "Commanding Officer."
"My wallet!" he thought to himself. "I gave my wallet to Max and he took everything out of it and went through it all. He wanted to call out and ask to go to the bathroom but he looked over at the bucket and kept his silence. Maybe he should start moaning or making some kind of noise. Maybe he should be quiet, cause they might want to fuck him again. He didn't know what to do, so he just thought. For an hour he thought and he recalled so many details, he started trying not to think. He started wishing he could forget - wishing he hadn't come to the city - wishing he was home right now. They were small - but as he looked around he saw cameras - a number of them.
Max and Bob were watching on those cameras intently, as the beautiful muscular young man tossed and turned, got up, paced and laid back down again. "Do you think he is remembering?" Bob asked.
"By now he's recalled most every detail. The drug breaks down inhibitions it does not affect memory. So I'd say he's ready for what ever you have in mind." Bob and Max discussed how the nervous young thing in the cell would have all his worst fears confirmed, and then Max sent Dieter to collect the boy and take him to the room where the meeting would take place.
Bob and Max watched the collection process on the monitor. Jake heard the door opening at the end of the hall and listened intently. There were heavy footsteps on the floor as Dieter's boots hit the cement. The sound got closer and louder until Jake saw the giant hulk of a man outside the barred wall of his cell. Instantly he remembered this being one of the men who had half dragged half walked him to the cell. Dieter issued a one-word command as he stuck the big key into the door lock. "Stand!" Automatically Jake did just that. "You are to be reminded of the shit bucket over there in the corner. Do you understand?" Jake understood completely and nodded to indicate so. "Turn around and put your hands behind you," was the next order. As Jake did so Dieter took cuffs he was wearing and applied them to the nervous wrists. He spun Jake around and pushed him to a painfully seated position on the bed. Then he cuffed the boy-man's ankles with leg irons. He reached between Jake's legs and grabbed his balls and pulled on them till Jake was whimpering. He attached a heavy polished steel ball collar around the base of the stretched scrotum, with special screws that were not slotted but keyed. The nut collar had a ring welded into it where a lead was attached. Dieter stood, and pulled up hard on the lead as he gave the order, "Stand!" The silent Jake hollered and stood at the same time. Dieter tugged on the lead, stretching Jake's nuts out in front of him, and Jake found himself being pulled out of the cell by his balls behind the powerful man.
Shirtless - as Max's men usually were - Dieter took Jake to the prescribed room keeping hurtful tension on the balls and nut sack all the way. He led him to the center of the room where there was a cable hanging down - uncuffed Jake's hands - re-cuffed them in front, and locked them to the cable. He pulled on an ratcheted winch and raised the boys arms till they were lifted up high above his head. Standing in physical contact with his charge and reaching up to double check the cuffs, Dieter's strongly scented hairy armpit ended up right in Jake's face. He inhaled drawing in as much of the powerful man's masculine aroma as possible thinking how much it would be turning him on under different circumstances - but here, and now, he could only feel worry at the hand of this rather god-like creature in charge of him. Dieter removed the leash from Jake's heavy polished steel ball collar. With total disinterest and detachment, he walked to the door, turned off the lights, and exited the room.
In complete darkness Jake stood alone and silent. The drugs altering his mental state having worn off, there was nothing to allay his anxiety about what was happening. His balls hurt from the stretch of the steel collar, his ass hurt terribly from the rape and the plug, and his bladder hurt from the pressure of needing to relieve himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there when a door behind him suddenly opened casting some light across the floor with silhouettes of a couple of figures seeming to enter, and just as quickly the door closed.
Intense lights came on. They were in a ring above, aimed down and toward him, illuminating his stretched form on all sides and the floor out a couple of feet. The room to him remained in darkness beyond that. Footsteps of more than one person circled him. He could make out two sets of boots. He tried unsuccessfully to see who it was. "Hello?" he said with a questioning and nervous tone, "Sir is that you Sir?"
Max and Bob were circling the figure in the shadows silently admiring Max's catch and Bob's purchase when Max stepped into the light in front of Jake's suspended form. "You may speak now as I require it. I want to hear Thank you Sirs and Yes Sirs and No Sirs, and if I think you're not being careful and respectful, well, just remember that bucket of shit. Got it?"
"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir," came out with trepidation.
"Do you think you could be a little more enthusiastic here?"
This time it was emphatic, "Yes Sir! Thank you Sir!" and a congratulatory, "Atta pussy," from Max. Bob sat back in the dark playing with himself while Max took the reigns. He listened as Max dealt with the new toy.
"You'll be happy to know that my deal with my friend went through. So your efforts at making him happy were all worth it. You really impressed him. Isn't that great?"
"Yes Sir! That's great Sir!" came emphatically.
Max stepped out of Jake's sight and walked over to Bob in the shadows and whispered. He asked Bob if he could play a little longer with the naive beauty. Bob said he was on no particular schedule and invited Max to enjoy himself.
"What do you want to bet - " Max whispered, " - the next thing he says is that he wants to go home? I want to give him some hope for a little longer. This is just too much fun to stop yet. Bob agreed, and Max talked to their source of entertainment. "Would you like to speak boy?"
Jake squinted into the blackness trying to see his inquisitor and answered politely, "Yes Sir."
The dichotomy of such beauty and strength in their victim's form, contrasted with its utter defenselessness standing there stretched - arms handcuffed over its head, and feet shackled together was a delightful spectacle for these sadistic men to ogle at - especially with in mind what was about to be revealed to it.
"Well then," Max invited, "why don't you take a moment to think about what you'd like to say, then go right ahead."
Jake was more fearful than he'd ever been in his life. He'd never known absolute loss of control like this before. He was very unsure of what was going on, but one thing he was sure of - he'd seen the boy downstairs - he'd heard Max's account of taking him, and he was convinced Max played for keeps when he wanted to. The main thought that kept repeating itself was, "don't piss him off." He thought about how to put what he wanted to say respectfully.
He started quietly and carefully - still thinking as he went along, "Sir. . . Ah. . . I . . . want to thank you for allowing me to answer to you as my Commanding Officer. I really want to work with you and help you however I can. It's an honor to know someone who takes control. You're teaching me a lot Sir. I'm sorry for the times I pissed you off too Sir. I'm glad you let me try to make things up to you a little by helping your client feel good so your deal would go through Sir." He thought maybe if he spoke of business, Max would be amenable for the next part, "I owe you a lot Sir, so please don't think of me as ungrateful because I say I really should go home. I have job appointments I need to keep Sir."
Max walked to the door, opened it and spoke into the hall so everyone could hear. "Dieter! Come in here please and bring the leash." Dieter could be heard saying, "Yes Sir," outside in the hall. He walked in, to a further instruction, "Attach it to the ball collar would you?"
"Yes Sir," was automatic.
The leash was a strong woven one, which could hold back a lion. The lead was attached the way it had been before, as Jake watched. Then Max took it from Dieter and began slowly pulling. Jake tried to walk into the pressure like he did when he followed Dieter out of the cell, but he could move forward only slightly before his restraints held him secure. Max spoke as he kept pulling, "I thought you and I had an understanding last night!" Jake rose up on his toes and started yelling in pain, Max all but raised the boys feet off the floor by the tension on his nuts as he hollered at Jake over the boy's screaming.
"Didn't you understand that you don't tell me, you ask me?"
"I'M S-O-R-R-Y SIR!!" Jake yelled at the top of his lungs.
Max handed the leash to Dieter and told him to hold it right where it was. The balls were shiny purple in the bottom of the taught sack. They looked like they would pop through the skin. Max got right in Jake's open-mouthed and screaming face, "Would you like to try again fuckup, fuckhole, pussy boy?" Jake tried to say that he would, but mostly his head nodded as he shrieked. Max guided Dieter's hold on the leash until the lessening tension barely allowed for speech. Jake still in excruciating pain, breathlessly, panted, "I SHOULD HAVE ASKED, COULD I PLEASE GO HOME SIR!!!."
Between the heat in the room having been purposefully increased for just this effect, and the strain from the pain he was being given, his body was glistening and shining as sweat exuded from every pore. Remembering, and berating himself as a "stupid fuckup," his vascularity and muscle definition popped as if oiled for a showing. Though still in pain, Max decreased the tension some more to where Jake could catch his breath. With a whimpering apologetic tone in his voice he addressed his tormentor, "I'm sorry Sir. I'm a fuckup but I'll do better. Please Sir? Please? Please may I go? I'll come back whenever you say Sir. Any hour of the day or night - I'll drop everything and come - and I promise I'll do better Sir - I promise Sir! Just please, please can I have your permission to go home? I've learned my lesson now Sir and I'll never ever tell you what I need Sir! I'll ask you what you want me to do! Honest Sir! I swear!" The boy was nothing if not abundantly, and expressively, apologetic.
Max covered the penitent mouth with is hand and played his next card of deceit. "So you would like me to let you go home would you?"
"Yes Sir! Please may I Sir?" There was so much hope in the tone of Jakes muffled plea, it was as if hope alone would make it so, and Max played to it - Master at it that he was. "Well - " he paused with vocal tone raised to increase the volition of the boy's hope, " - I tell you what. My friend is here in the room with me. He's been watching and listening to everything. You remember - he's the man you begged to fuck you last night with the huge cock you love so much?"
"Yes Sir?" The tone was both pensive and attentive as he listened to his Commanding Officer - the CO to end all COs.
"He came to pick up his merchandise and pay what he owes me. If you thank him real nice for last night I may let you go home today. You see, he thought there was a possibility that it was too much for you and you didn't really want it. So be honest with him and tell him how much it meant to you and put his misgivings to rest would you?"
"Yes Sir! Of course Sir! I'd be happy to do that Sir!"
He began to speak and Max stopped him. He told him to take a few minutes and quietly think about what he wanted to say, that it was important. Max said he wanted to take care of something first. He told Dieter to release the ball lead and bring him the clear coffee mug from the table. Max unlocked and removed the harness, which had insured the plug could not be forced from its secure place in the boy's ass. The huge load-retaining invader had been in place for more than twelve hours and Jake's ravaged hole had had time to close up tightly around it's not so very narrow base. The necessary stretching of Jake's sore pussy when removing it was going to hurt like hell.
As instructed, Dieter lessened the tension on the boy's up stretched hands so he could spread his knees somewhat - squat a bit, and better expose his ass hole - pussy as it was becoming known and referred to now. Max told Dieter to hold on to Jake low around the waist like a tackling dummy. Max got down on his knees behind Jake. He fiddled with the base of the plug till he got a firm purchase, and then stopped all action for a moment. Then from his position down behind the sweating carpenter he issued his instruction. "Ok fuckup, you've had enough time to think. So why don't you begin what you wanted to say."
Faltering - with fear and trepidation in his voice, he began his little monolog into the darkness ahead of him, "Mister. . . ah . . . Sir. . . I wanted you to know . . . ah. . . how grateful I am to you for letting me service your fantastic cock Sir. It's the biggest, most beautiful cock I've ever seen Sir. Ah . . . ." He thought and continued, "Thank you for letting this fuckup worship and stroke it for you. Your cock and your pleasure were so important to me Sir. Thank you for fucking me Sir. It meant a lot to me Sir. I apologize for you not being the only one Sir, but thank you for being the only one to cum in me, and for letting me keep it in me for so long with the plug."
He'd almost forgotten Max was holding on back there, until without warning, he began pulling on it. Jake started to pant, and then grunt, and then all out holler, as it stretched him wider and more forcefully open. As it reached its maximum, pain wracking diameter, Max held it cruelly in position. Dieter held the boy, Max held the plug, and Jake held the volume of his resultant yell, till the awful instrument had fulfilled its hole stretching, pussy splitting assignment, and mercifully was allowed to exit.
Max immediately put the mug to the abused hole and watched as the long held slimy accumulation of lube, rectal mucus, blood, and Bob's inordinate load of ball juice, began to drain into the glass. With Jake's screams diminishing again to groans and pants, he was coached like a woman giving birth - the command repeatedly given, "Push boy! Push! Turn yourself inside out! Atta boy! I know how much you hate to loose it, but push that big load out!" He moaned, and groaned, and grunted, and pushed as accommodatingly as he could push. All of his concentration was aimed at pleasing and obeying the man holding the cup to his ass - the man in charge, who'd said he could go home. He didn't want to risk fucking that up for anything.
"Ok boy," Max said, as he scooped the edge of the cup across the oozing hole. "I think we got all we're gonna get." Max stood up - came around front of Jake, and held the see-through mug at eye level between his face and that of his panting victim. The cup was almost half filled. Jake had been too clean for shit, but there was definite color to the slimy fluid. It was pink from Jake's pussy blood - almost as if a Bob had broken a virginal hymen.
"The load you spoke so fondly of, is in here," Max said, "Wouldn't you like to ask the man for his permission to consume it? That way you could keep it inside you where you were so glad to have it, when you leave." Max tantalized the fuckhole with that hopeful word "leave."
"Yes Sir!" came the out and out lie. There was nothing he wanted less than to have to swallow what he was looking at in the glass.
"Well go ahead! Ask the man!" Bob's name had never been spoken in front of Jake so that he could not even have a name to associate with his rapist - and unbeknownst owner. (This was a prerequisite of Bob's.)
"Mister, could I please have your permission to drink your load Sir?" and then an added plea for insurance of his sincerity so as not to blow this opportunity to impress, "Please may I have it back inside of me to take home Sir? It would mean so much to me."
"Sure!" was the simplistic one word reply, from out of the dark, to the so thoughtfully expressed, sincerely verbalized, humiliating plea.
"Thank you Sir," Jake could feel the literal heat of the home fires, and he wasn't about to risk loosing it now.
"Tell you what," Max said, "Why don't we all work up some spit for the fuckup's drink. I bet that would really be appreciated, wouldn't you boy?"
A less then enthusiastic, "Yes Sir," followed. Each man worked up a snort, and spit as big a hocker into the glass as he could, while Jake listened to the loogers being blown into his "cocktail," in the darkness beyond his restricted vision.
"Now you." Max brought the glass back to Jake's face and held it in front of him, "Work up a good lunger, and blow it in there." Jake did as he was told, "Aww, you can do better than that," he was chided. The cup's position was maintained as he snorted repeatedly and worked up a more acceptable deposit.
He had no more sensation in his upheld arms, and he was feeling queasy at the thought of drinking his "ass hole - saliva enriched, beverage," but he was determined to hold it together and, "get outa there." He hocked his big one into the glass and listened to Max's complaint and horrific suggestion, "You know . . . I really am disappointed in the color. Pink is a little feminine. I assumed the load would have more of a brown color to it, but you were apparently too clean." He swirled the mug coating the sides with its contents pensively examining the disgusting swill between their faces, "I bet you were thinking the same thing weren't you boy? No self respecting man is gonna want a pink drink. I'm sure you agree - right boy?" "Self respecting man," was a descriptive Jake was being stripped of - both the "self respecting" part, and the "man" part, but he didn't know that yet, so the deceptive analogy was good for setting him up. And besides, he'd heard the promising words, "going home." Max was sure he'd agree to just about anything at this point to placate his CO and keep that promise alive - deceitfully nonexistent as it actually was.
Max just stood there, glass between their faces, waiting for his victim's agreeable response.
"Right Sir."
"Dieter," Max beckoned to his big, muscled, man-servant standing by, and handed him the mug, "Go get a spoon - take this down to the fuckup's cell and give it a couple tablespoons from the sealed bucket." Bob of course - was relaxing in the shadows stroking his megalithic endowment with euphoric delight to every syllable of every word with which Max was screwing Jake's head, and slowly unveiling his already determined fate. Never had Bob thought of a mind being so emphatically fucked the way Max was deftly and diabolically fucking Jake's. And every moment of it from Jake pulling into the alley, was being recorded for his continued prurient pleasure. He could, and would, relive any or all of it at his whim.
More to cum Comments welcome: mackxwayne@hotmail.com Other Nifty Story: A slaves Induction The man behind the words - MY website http://www.MACKsf.com