Breaking-in Slave Kevin

Key-words: MMM/m Slavery, gay sex, rape, abuse, forced labor, torture  and scatology

Breaking-In  Slave  Kevin

© 2011 by Masostud,  the right resides with the author

Note: This is a work of fiction. All persons and names are coincidental. Who feels insulted by descriptions of hard-core slavery and dirty abuse by scat-scenes is requested to leave this story unread. You have been warned.

Summary: The gay Kevin (19) was devoted to dominating men. He went deliberately into the fangs of two strong-build men who proved to be  real sadists. Kevin had to experience  what true slavery means in reality when it was to late to stay back.

Readers, please note: The author’s native language is NOT English, so you are to excuse some mistakes in spelling, grammar or terms. Hard-core! Not for the squeamish reader!

Novel in 7 chapters

Chapter one

Kevin had some slight experience with S&M-relations. He saw them as games to play a role he liked to be the devoted part of it. Friend Simon was his last connection he had decreased just some weeks ago when Simon became to much demanding in his tendencies to suppress his devoted sex-partner Kevin. So they met only rarely now.

He had heard of an night-bar in a secluded part of the city in which dominant men could be found to make acquaintance with. He went to it.

The bar was not full. Sure, it was still quite early in this Thursday evening, and the “Hangers-on” had not started to play their trade for pick-ups yet, and those sitting or standing by the horse-shoe shaped bar counter were deep in conversation and not at all concerned about drifting “singles” hopeful of a night’s fun after the bar has closed.

In fact it was this group who tended to give the bar a bad name and spoil the genuine delights of this place.  Although some of those present were in distinctive leather jeans and jackets, and one or two sported leather peaked caps and heavy boots. It could be said there was till now an atmosphere of “normality” filling the room.

“Hey guy, are you still with Simon?” asked a tall, well build man with broad shoulders and muscle-packed arms. He was leaning on the counter and holding his beer-stein in both hands without picking it up from the mat on which it stood. His companions were also pretty tall, stocky build and very handsome. One was wearing full leather including very smart shining riding boots. The other informally dressed in jeans and T-shirt, just a bit less in height and probably a few years younger than his companion.

“Yes, Sir,” replied the almost nineteen years old Kevin in his jeans with blushing face. “He calls me perhaps once or twice a month, but it is pretty difficult for him to meet my aims in playing my part due to lack of a suitable place for our games.” Kevin intentionally didn’t refer on Simon’s too demanding wishes.

“Oh I see! Not very satisfactory then,” the first guy said. “Did you forget what I said to you the other night we met here? If you really want to learn, I am the one who can teach you properly!”

The leather-man fingering his beer stein spoke next: “Yes, that’s true, boy! You couldn’t have a better trainer than him!” He raised his stein and downed its contents in one gulp. He carefully lowered the stein and pushed it towards the young Kevin. “Simon has told me much about you, and it seems you certainly need taking in hands by us.”

Kevin shuffled uncomfortably in his tight jeans, but he took in the message and he called the bar-tender to replenish the beer glasses. “Three more, please.”

The man who was interested in Simon’s activities stood up and looked severely at the young lad: “I did not hear either of us give you permission to have another drink!”

“Sorry, Sir,” the young lad leaned over the counter and amended his order to “two glasses if you please.”

The leather-man continued the conversation: “Yes, Simon says you have been writing S&M-stories for him. Is that right?”

“Yes, Sir, I did.” Answered Kevin.

“I bet they are kind of where the slave is big and butch and takes absolutely everything from its masters without flinching.” Grinned the leather-man mockingly. Kevin looked a bit embarrassed. “Why is it that all these stories are written by the so-called “victim”? You very rarely see the top-man’s angle, do you?”

The young lad tried to explain his obvious failings in the eyes of the other two: “You see, Sir, I only know what it is like to be whipped and humiliated, I can’t really imagine how it feels to be the whipper.”

“I suppose it is easier for a slave to respond to each and every task it is set as a separate experience,” said the other top-man. “We have but one experience and that is to see our properties continually becoming dependent upon our control for their existence. A slave has nothing to do but respect and obey his Masters. It is a basic as that, and I suppose that wouldn’t make much of a story.”

There were two beer-mats unoccupied near the young lad in jeans. A hand slowly reached over and brushed one of them off the counter in front of young Kevin’s gaze. The big man looked meanly straight into the eyes of the puzzled boy as he said: “Pick it up, Turd! There is something else down there that needs attention.”

True, the beer-mat lay beside the big guy’s right boot. And there is nothing the young Kevin would not do to prove his inferiority to strong men, provided it was behind closed doors, but this was a challenge! Fortunately for him, the big man had set the test in the full knowledge that they were in a secluded place of a somber bar, and the sending of the beer-mat to the floor appeared as an accident. The young subservient had preferred to bend down, reach for the mat and return it onto the bar-counter, but he knew instinctively that this was not what was expected. Instead he crouched down and touched the floor with his knees allowing his head to brush over the smooth leather boot as he picked up the mat. Kevin quickly stood up and replaced the mat on the counter as he resumed his stance as before.

“That is not the way my slave would do it,” the big man retorted.

“Nor mine,” said his fellow top-man.” “At least fifty percent of the turd’s mind was on other things than paying homage to its master.” Both men chuckled.

“The first thing boy, you will learn under my whip is TOTAL submission to me. None of that ”manipulation” play-acting slaves imagine is good enough!” said the big one, “my slave will have no time to think about himself, let alone his surroundings. I will see to that!”

The young lad in jeans digested the thoughts quietly as his companions continued to discuss their roles.

“Simon says he is a willing submissive, but he would never make good slave-material. He only thinks he wants to be owned.” Said the big man as he took up his beer.

“It is a pity he has no attachments in the outside world to complicate his total disappearance,” the other guy said. There was a slight pause before he continued, “shall we prove Simon wrong?”

“That’s what I intend we shall do,” the big man replied firmly ensuring that he had the attention of the jeans-clad guy. The lad’s heart jumped a beat as he contemplated the meaning of such a statement. He spoke directly to the boy: “You said that Simon couldn’t have you more often because of difficulties.”

“Yes sir, that’s right!”

“What a bullshit,” snarled the big man, “he surely thinks you would squirm like a squeamish female if he put the pressure on. You jut want to be beaten to prove yourself a hero, don’t you?!”

“No sir! Not at all! I truly want to be mastered and dominated, Sir!”

The big man pulled himself up to his full height as he drained his stein. “That, Turd, is the understatement of the year! You will see!”

There was a pregnant pause to let the young man digest the implication of such a sentence. The big man looked straight at the open-mouthed supplicant: “Your Simon has given you to us! Understand? He wants us to train you. From now on, boy, you had better behave yourself or else ….”

Startled but keen, this was like music in Kevin’s ears! But the merry excitement soon began to turn to trembling anticipation, as his new “Master” pressed on with his lesson:

“You think you would like to be dominated by a severe master, but it is only because you are too weak to earn attention from others: You want YOUR pleasure handed to you on a plate. You want someone else to take on your responsibilities. Well, let me tell you shit, under our control you will have one hell of a responsibility, and that is to stay alive! None of your ‘manby-pamby’ flirtation with other guys’ affections. You need not think what we are going to ‘admire’ your achievements or anything like that You are going to be our work-machine – a lump of undigested shit to be used and abused as we see fit without any consideration of your miserable feelings. Got it, Turd?”

The other man in leather smiled showing signs of pleasure. This only brought a further forecast of things to be.

“We have got a good use for slave power,” he smirked.

“And horse-power,” said the tall master continuing:

“Yes, horse-power! And so long as you provide it, you will see another dawn, but one step out of place, and ‘qeuuuuuch’ …” The big man leaned forward and poked a finger in the young attentive guy’s throat as he made the gurgling noise indicating how he would dispose of a failing slave.

“You may have run to Simon for attention to your bodily needs and a bit discipline and sex, but it will be different with us.”

The two dominants stood up and gazed down on the ponderous youth in front of them as he digested the meanings of the lecture he had just been given. They seemed well satisfied. What was going through the potential slave’s mind  is another story …

The big man broke into the lad’s dreams abruptly: “Right, Turd! You have a lot to do before you are groveling naked at my feet. You will take your new master to your flat and arrange all necessary for your disappearance from your old comfortable existence. All or nothing, that’s my principle! When Master brings you back to your owner, you had better be prepared for anything to happen and you can be sure it won’t all be pleasant ‘games’. You will be nothing more than a lump of shit to be used, and by God, you are going to be used!”

The big man pushed a finger into the young guy’s belly again emphasizing his authority over him.

The other master looked at the boy for a moment before suggesting: “He still looks unconvinced, Roy. He still thinks we are playing games …”

“Yes, I agree. Right!” The big man replied and then turning to the cowering youth he said: “Go to the ‘Gents’ room and into the end-cubicle if it is free! Lock the door and strip off! Stand facing the pan with your hands behind your back, and wait! Repeat to yourself over and over again: ‘Good-bye world and all my possessions, I am to be a real slave’. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir!” the young man said timidly as he turned and went into the door at the far end of the bar to comply with his new master’s command, but still he could not escape the feeling that was ‘play-acting’ as usual.

With his jeans and T-shirt hanging from the peg behind the door inside, the young man standing to attention with his hands clasped behind his back stared at the bowl at his knees in growing confusion. His brain purred with the prepared farewell to normality, but he just could not break the ‘fantasy’ what lay ahead of him. His mind kept on interrupting with thought of going home, going to bed, wanking his pecker and falling asleep. Enjoying his music, getting up and going for work, visiting the pub, playing S&M with whoever picked him up, taking his books back to the library and rest watching TV.

Only the long passage of time blurred the senses and made him wonder what was happening. “Surely,” he thought, “someone would become suspicious that the cubicle was ‘engaged’ for so long without a sound coming from it.’ He heard guys come and go; he heard cascades of piss hitting the steel urinals and odd bits of conversation. He heard guys laughing and greeting one another, discussing their ‘conquests’ or lovers, or just exchanging pleasantries about their cars or – to Kevin’s surprise – about women.

Meanwhile, the two Masters had ordered another drink and were now sitting on their bar-stools. The big athlete said:

“Just stand guard over the boy while he clears up his things. Don’t give him any sensual indications. Make the buggar sweat it out!”

“Yes, of course,” replied the other.

“I am looking forward to this, John. I find it difficult not to think of it as a ‘game’ like that poor devil sweating his guts out, out there,” said the big man. John asked his fellow Roy:

“Do you really think he is good slave-material? What will you do if he fails your demands, or if he isn’t what we are looking for?”

“Don’t worry! There is always a market for even the dumbest slave in the Middle-East.”

“You mean you would sell him – or better described as ‘it’?”

“Yes, of course. Why not? I’ll have covered all eventualities before removing this guy from society.” Roy paused, then said: “Find those stories he has written if you can. They could be of use for us in our training him. His fantasies could be helpful to us while we subjugate him under our will.”

“How?” enquired John.

“We will go through them and perform the events making sure the ‘turd’ cannot gloat over his heroism!” Both the men laughed.

“Better go now and get him out of the Gents’-room,” said Roy. “Here is a bag to put its clothes in, and take your long coat along. There is an emergency back-door leading outside, no one will spot its naked legs below the hem of that long coat.” John sniggered at Roy’s suggestion.

The “Gents” was empty when John walked in, and only one cubicle door remained shut. He tapped at the door panel. The young man reached his hand behind himself and unbolted the latch without turning himself around. John pushed the door open, grabbed the clothes from the peg and stuffed them into the bag.

“Time to go, Turd! Put your hands in there!” John held the coat as the youth slid his arm into the sleeves of the coat. “About turn!” ordered John quietly as he stepped out of the doorway. Kevin walked forward into the empty room in an utter state of bewilderment. He had never been in a public place wearing only a rubber coat and socks in his slippers. They left quickly and out through the emergency-door into the car-park. John led the boy to his car and opened the rear-door.

The youth got in with the help of a push from John. He slid along the back seat and was told to lie there. The bag was thrown in top of him as John slammed the door and went around the driver’s door. No one had seen this take place and John felt some relief that Roy’s plan had gone through without a hitch.

John was now driving across the town with a captive slave in the back of the car. A real slave who was about to vanish from everyday existence and not be missed.

“Hey, boy, 28 Tower Green Gardens, isn’t it?” asked John.

“Right, Sir!” came the muffled answer from behind.

“Get your keys out of the bag, Turd!” John demanded.

Kevin fumbled in the bag and found his jeans and unclasped the bunch of keys that were suspended from his belt loop. He reached up and dangled them over the driver’s seat back. A hand came and grabbed them. “Keep down, Turd!” John ordered not being able to see in the dark that Kevin had hardly moved from his slumped position which he had kept after being pushed into the car.

Kevin’s house was all in darkness as the car pulled into Kevin’s driveway. John got out and opened the front door wide before coming back to usher Kevin out of the car and straight into the house quickly. John shut the door and groped up the wall for a light switch.

“Now let’s have a look what we have won at the Fair!” John mused as he pulled the coat from the now naked youth. Without any qualms John seized the sack and pulled it towards him. He fiercely kneaded the big balls in his fist so that Kevin started to hop on the spot with the ache. Then John grabbed the semi-hard prick in his fist, pulled the foreskin harshly back and inspected the glans accurately. The cock reacted with stiffness. ‘Not bad’, John thought ‘this pretty long and fat prick will be a good thing to be treated and bring the boy to heel!’ The squeezed member made the boy bend forward in awkwardness. Loudly John ordered:

“Stand to attention in the presence of a Master!” John demanded. Kevin half expected a slap across his voluptuous ass, but it didn’t come adding tension to the reality of the situation. “Can you be seen by anyone through the windows?” asked John.

“No, Sir!”

“Right. Make me a coffee and bring it in here – on your fucking hands and knees, bastard! And then go and write what you have to, and organize yourself. This is the last time you will see this place. Understood? –– Right. Get cracking!”

The coffee was delivered safely despite the awkwardness of crawling on one hand and two knees, and Kevin set to work on the arrangements for his vanishing act.

As he sealed the last envelope and affixed the stamps to sent them to his landlord and house-commissioner, he heard John’s voice call out: “Come here, Turd!”

Kevin put the envelopes on the pile and walked into the living room.

“What is the matter with you? On your fucking hands and knees when you approach your Master! By God, you have got a lot to learn!”

“Sorry, Sir! Punish me, Sir!” Kevin dropped to his hands and knees, but invitingly pushed his ass upwards to receive his punishment.

“Get this straight, you fucking turd: You never tell your Master what to do! We aren’t playing games now. If you do anything like that before your future owner, you will regret it. I mean that. Understand?!”

“Yes Sir!”

“And now show me all your fantasy-stories about S&M you have written. At once!!”

Kevin crawled on his hand and knees to a closet and fished out from the rearmost corner a fat stack of typed scripts and handed it to John.

“Write down a legacy reading that all your clothes, things and leftovers in your apartment are to be a donation to a care-organization like the Salvation-Army or such.” Demanded John.

While Kevin was writing the legacy, John looked through the stack of about seven or eight stories. He read the headlines only like those as: “Master orders – slave has to obey”, “Toiling for his owner”, “Used as His Pony-boy” or “The horrors of a toilet-slave” or “Master’s dog” and so on. John could not help but grin when reading the titles. These titles could be some interesting model for his training to come.

When Kevin had finished his legacy, he said: “I am ready”, Sir!” Instantly he was hit by John and  was told in a stern kind:

“Keep it always in your fucking mind: Never open your mouth and speak unless you are told to do so!”

Kevin only nodded in approval without speaking a word. Then John stood up turning to go and Kevin did likewise.

“What the fuck do you think you are playing at? John snarled. “Get back down on your hands and knees!” John knew that the pressure would have to be kept up until the slave was properly conditioned and had the last vestige of “gamesmanship” beaten out of him.

“Where are the S&M-gears of yours?” asked John, and when Kevin answered “In this drawer there,” John went to it, opened it and took all leather-cuffs, dildos, gags, thongs and clamps out and stuffed them into a shopping bag.

“Have you switched off the gas and electricity? Lit on a candle so we can see our surrounding.” And Kevin obeyed crawling around on his hands and knees getting a candle on a silver stand. John drank out the rest of coffee and then ordered Kevin to get on the long coat he had on before.

“Take the candle on the silver stand, then illuminate my way back to the entrance-door, and there you may put the candelabra down on the floor and extinguish the candles ” ordered John and left the apartment, the automatic lock fell shut and John threw the keys into the mailbox near the entrance. Kevin dared not ask whether he should have packed some cloth together in a suit-case. He feared to do something wrong by speaking without allowance. At least, he was allowed to walk upright now the short way from the house-door to the car in the driveway. 

Kevin thought to be transported again down on the backseat, but found himself stunned, when John opened to boot of the car and ordered Kevin: “In there! That the right place for a mere object to be transported.” In almost total darkness of the driveway, John took off the coat of Kevin’s now naked body and used it like a blanket on the bottom of the trunk.  With difficulty, Kevin crawled into the trunk in a cramped position. The lid was slammed shut. Kevin heard the drivers-door unlocked, the key turned in the ignition-lock and the motor started working.

Now he was truly a prisoner. Being transported like a suitcase in a trunk and not knowing where the trip was going to.

Some miles later he heard the passenger’s door opened and a person entered the car. Obviously this was Roy, Kevin thought. He could hear the talk due to the noise of the tires and the roaring motor.

Chapter two

As the car sped on its way to Kevin’s new “home”; he lay huddled up in the boot feeling somewhat embarrassed and humiliated.

The boot was draughty and wind blew cold streams of air all around his naked body (naked means apart from the flimsy mini-slip which was not there to keep his body warm but rather to point out the degrading life-style which the boy was shortly to experience.) There were sundry tools and oily rags in the boot with him, and a case and some bags containing item from his own flat including the case full of clothing Kevin has had to gather in the dark of his former apartment.

The car slowed down and came to rest. Kevin heard the car-doors open and close, but then silence. No one came to let him out of the cramped boot. After what seemed like an hour or more, he felt the boot-lock accepting a key.

The lid was raised and what little space there was around his cold body was filled with more luggage before the lid was closed sharply again. Then two car-doors slammed and the engine started up.

Then followed what must have been a journey of over 80 miles.

Kevin now added his own particular brand of humiliation. His bladder developed agonizing pains from desire to piss. His fight to keep within the normal practice of using a proper toilet was of course senseless, but no way he was going to disgrace himself. Holding back as he did, only made matters worse for the pressure spread to his bowels, and as the mini-slip grew steadily wetter and wetter he could feel excrement oozing into the thin cotton material beneath his ass.

As the car pulled out onto the freeway, John asked Roy if he was to drive straight to their country retreat.

“Yes, we should get there around dawn, or just before. No need to hurry though,” Roy replied. “Nice touch - the mini-slip! I will delight in tying the guy up and ripping it off him! I don’t suppose you let ‘IT’ have a crap before you left the apartment, did you?”

“Never thought! But why you are taking of him by IT?” John said anxiously.

“For me he is a mere thing, so I call him ‘it’. Okay, you haven’t let it shit. Good. Glad you didn’t. I am sure it will have had the shits already! The is a remote lake a couple of miles from the house. We will chuck it in there and deal with the problem then.” Roy laughed.

John asked, “We have got to come back to town on Monday, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Roy answered.

“And what will you do then with Kevin?”

“No problem,” Roy replied confidently. “Tony is coming over. He will exercise and feed him until I return on next Wednesday afternoon. Can you come then and stay for a week or so?”

“Oh yes, I’d love to. I want to see it broken in.”

“You can help me with the ‘breaking-in’,” Roy chuckled. “Two whips are always quicker than one!”

The two guys didn’t speak much during the journey, but occasionally they touched hands and exchanged silent telepathic messages of comradeship one to the other. They listened to taped music to relieve the boredom of the steady throb of the engine.

“Turn off here, John. About half a mile you come to a small wood; pull in to the layby.”

The car took a sharp left-hand bend and the surface of the road became rough, bouncing the cases and the odd spanner into Kevin’s frozen body. He heard the engine die as the car came to a stop. The lock turned and the lid flew up, and an aroma of piss-soaked cotton must have wafted up into Roy’s nostrils.

“Fucking dirty cunt has shit itself, John. We will have to get it cleaned up.” Roy said.

“You bet! Have you got a whip with you?”

“Naturally, you can give it a thrashing when I have washed it clean.”

The cases pressing down on the trembling nude body were lifted up and a heavy cane-like object was pushed into the curled-up hulk that was once a proud, young man.

“Get out, shit-ass!” Roy yelled. John added in an equal harsh tone: “If you have stained the mat in there, you will lick it clean, boy!”

Kevin struggled to raise himself out of the cramped space. His limbs had almost set, and he had great difficulty in getting the circulation going. Roy helped him by prodding him again and grabbing an arm and practically lifting the boy from the boot.

“Get over there!” Roy yelled as he closed the boot and marched Kevin into the wood. It was dark; Roy had a torch which he shone on the ass of Kevin’s smeared behind.

“Look at that! The piss-bag not only wet himself but shit itself during the trip. I won’t it eat his excrements this time, but if it ever happens again ….!” Harshly Roy ripped the this slip off his body and threw them far into the wood.

Kevin felt so small and insignificant, as he pressed forward, his naked feet crunching the dead leaves beneath his steps. His ass-cheeks clang together with rests of his shit as he walked. Then at the end of the trees Kevin saw it: Even in the blackness of the night water had always a veiled gleam on it. Just then, a break in the clouds revealed a bright moon casting a silvery glow over the remote sheet of water surrounded by tree-lined banks.

“Get in, toad!” came the order.

Kevin moved forward to step into the water but hesitated when his feet felt the ice-cold temperature of the lake.

“Go ahead and clean your body and specially your ass-crack thoroughly!” Hesitantly Kevin washed and rubbed his lower body off all rests of his defecation. When he left the icy water, Roy ordered:

“Bend over, Turd!” And John swung the whip and shouted:

“Never  (whack!)  never  (whack!)  shit  (whack!)  yourself  (whack!)  again  (whack!) unallowable!”

John repeated the instruction to accompany the harder five lashes. Then Roy stepped forward and pushed Kevin saying, “In, dog!”

He held a thin pajama-trousers in front of the shivering Kevin who stepped in. They gave his cold body not much protection but better than nothing against the cold chill.

“Give it another five lashes, John, just to teach it how to keep the trousers dry and clean.”

“Do you want them onto its bare ass?” John asked.

“No, the whip will sting as well through the thin material. Lay them hard on, John! Teach the buggar a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry!”

John used his full measure of strength on his task forcing Kevin to yell a couple of times. Crying and sniffing Kevin was marched back to the car. There Kevin was made to step into a rubber sleeping-bag which was pulled on over his head and zipped closed. He was ignominiously bundled back into the boot, the cases thrown on top of him, and the boot slammed shut.

The journey continued.

Chapter three

John pulled off the main north road onto a track. The car bounced over several cattle-grills causing the boot-passenger to receive bangs and bruises from the luggage piled up on his rubber sleeping-bag, which by now had absorbed and reflected his body heat to dry him off completely.

“That is good,” Roy said as he got out of the car and stretched himself. “Fresh air at least. Looks as though Tony has arrived already, the hall light is on. Come on, John, leave the car here.”

Once again, Kevin was left waiting and wondering when and if he would be released from his steamy rubber prison now that the journey as over and he had arrived at – he know not where.

What was pounding through his brain was whether he liked it or not – he now was totally at the mercy of these two, and he had a taste of their wrath and skill with the ‘swinging arm’. He had abandoned the life he knew, and had been closely watched as he prepared to make a permanent exit from society.

*  *

Roy took out his key as the two travelers mounted the flight of steps leading to quite a handsome porch. The house was not pretentious. That would be all wrong since Roy was determined that it and the grounds in which it stood  should not draw the spying eye of anyone not directly associated with Roy’s weird “hobby”.

He had found this place only after careful negotiations with a seller who was equally secretive about his environment, so the estate war already a shadowy place when Roy took possession and had made the place even more secure against unwanted intruders.

Here, the master could do whatever he pleased, and now was the time he was going to go overboard in his fantasy and actually spirit another human being away from the world and use and abused him without any fear of recriminations for the rest of time if necessary. Even his close friend, John, war not entirely in Roy’s confidences.

“Welcome to a fabulous weekend!” Roy said as he ushered John through the door. They had each brought some of the luggage from the back-seat of the car.

Inside, there was a log fire blazing away in the living room, and a kettle on the stove. However, Roy preferred being warmed another way. He poured two glasses of malt whisky and invited John to sit down.

“Let’s discuss strategy,” said Roy. “I have heard something from Simon on our slave’s performance record. Simon, of course, was only ‘playing games’ but he said the guy responded ‘ceremonial’. He liked leather, rubber and some S&M mental domination particularly. We will certainly use these if only to prove that it is no game. I should imagine, that for a bottom man to be, his shaving bald would give him a thrill until the razor or scissors reached his head and doesn’t stop, then the real fun begins. To see that body squirm to protect its identity being taken away! Boy!! Besides, does the guy like licking asses?” Roy inquired.

“I suppose so,” John answered “in any case he has written a story with the title ‘The horrors of a toilet-slave’ but it sound as if he fears such duties as he calls them ‘horrors’.”

Roy immediately assured his companion: “Doesn’t matter if he likes it or fears or if it has ever poked his tongue up a sticky ass. Don’t forget – he belongs to us now! If you want to shit straight into his mouth – that is pert of our rights over our possession! I certainly intend it to serve me that way, and I hope he will perform! Otherwise my whip will see to it! And I think you will do likewise.”

Roy stood up and went to the fireplace. He pulled on a cord. “Are you tired, John? I expect you are after all the driving.”

“No, not really.” John assured him.

“Good. I think we will get our prisoner installed. I will device an initiation in the morning, but we will at least get it prepared. Tony will keep it ’amused’ for the rest of the night while we get some sleep.” There were heavy treads to be heard coming to the living-room.

“Ah, hello Tony!” The door had opened and Roy’s friend entered. He rushed over and hugged Roy with expression of glee.

“Tony, this is John. He is staying for the week-end, and will hopefully come back for a proper holiday next week. See to it he has everything he wants. Serve him like you served me and he will be kind to you.”

John was a little bemused by this. But he quickly realized that Tony was Roy’s servant up here.

“Now get us a drink and then go to the car and unload the boot. You will find an ’object’ beneath the cases. You will know where to put it. Take it out of the rubber-bag first, but I suggest to use the coal-chute and drop the beast down there. Its sty is prepared for it, I hope. Oh, by the way, leave the pajama trousers on! When you have put the car away, come back and get John and me something to eat!”

“Yes, Sir! I have prepared a meal for you, Sir!”

*   *

Kevin heard the key turn in the lock of the boot, and he felt the weight of cases lifted from him. There was a pause before the silence again was broken by the unseen hands unloading the luggage. Then he felt his bag being lifted. As the fresh air rushed in through the top once the hands had separated the sides of the sleeping bag by means of the zip. Kevin heard a voice demand that he get out.

He crawled out in some discomfort as the damp cotton stuck to his flesh and the cramp had ceased up his muscles. He pushed one leg over the rim of the boot and allowed his weight to pull him clear of the confined traveling quarters. He heard the exciting clink of chain and felt his ankles being clad in irons.

He had no time to see who his captor was, but the voice commanding him to walk was certainly not Roy’s or John’s.

He felt a little frightened being totally in the dark both in knowledge of his future and the hour of the day. He gladly hobbled forward – the chains to his feet allowing only short steps. He heard a metal disc being slid over concrete

“Sit!” demanded the voice. Kevin crouched down or rather fell as his tethered hands could not support and soften his fall. Hands grabbed his ankles and pushed them the into a hole. He just caught a glimpse in the moonlight of a tall, blond figure dressed in shorts and T-shirt. The he felt a knee in his back push him further over the hole. Suddenly his body began to slip downwards.

He landed after sliding on his back on a kind of chute on a stone floor. It was pitch-dark there, and smelled musty. He found himself in a kind of a sty or similar. Her heard the grating above him being closed up, and spent the next couple of hours musing over his fate in absolute darkness ….

He had gone to Simon many times and been “crucified” many times by a variety of whips and canes. He had been tied up and had parts of his body-hairs shaved off. He had suffered all kinds of humiliation, but everything was done in the knowledge that within of hours he would be back in the big wide world and must have no visible signs of his treatment to arouse questions of his fellow men.

Already here, he had been thrown into cold water; made to accept slavery and bondage, and he has arrived at a place he did not even have the remotest idea about. He knew he wanted enslavement, but had he any notion what that meant in reality? Just he just resign himself to whatever lay ahead? He didn’t fancy loosing his grip on the situation entirely now. It was already too late, and suppose he was a failure –what then?

*   *

A low door opened in the box in which he lay, and a voice ordered him to come out. Kevin crawled as best he could to where the yellowish light entered his cell and pushed himself through the small entrance. He came out into a large stone cellar with low ceiling. It was lit by candles placed strategically around on ledges, casting a ghostly dim yellow light onto large stone blocks. He could see a vague shadowy figure in front of him partially blocking the light from a nearby candle. It spoke: “Get up, turd!” It was the voice of John.

Kevin’s manacles prevented him from standing erect. A hand grasped his collar of his damp pajama and roughly pushed him forward out of the low cellar into an even larger room which was lit by two naked bulbs.

Beneath one of the lights was a long awesome looking frame that looked like a table but the top of which was slit along the center to form two planks. It bristled with hooks chains and ropes. At the foot of the table was a mat of some kind.

Kevin was placed with his toes just touching the back of this mat. His chain connecting the ankle-hobblers to his handcuffs was loosened so that he could now stand erect. Out from the darkness beyond the table came a figure. It was Roy.

He perched himself on the corner of the frame and looked at the slave smugly. Roy too was on the threshold of a new experience. For the first time he was observing a body which now belonged to him. It was a property –– totally devoid of any earthly connection and he could do whatever he wanted to it and not need to protect himself from disfiguring it if he wanted.

“Name?”

“Kevin Blackman, Sir!”

“Not any more, Turd!”, he was assured by Roy. “Blackman died six hours ago!”

Roy paused to allow this message to sink in. “You are now my slave, and my slave you will remain until I see fit to terminate your status and YOU with it!”

Kevin remained silent, waiting for the next piece of vital information.

“From this moment on, you will work, sleep and eat and breathe as my slave, and you obey me without question, and will be totally subject to my code of discipline. I am very strict and I do not tolerate any insubordination, rebellion, or incompetence. Understand?”

“Yes. Sir!”

“What is this?” Roy held out his right hand in which he had a long, black whip with many strands.

“A whip, Sir!” Kevin replied timidly.

“And what is it for?”

The answer choked in Kevin’s throat. He stuttered: “To punish me with, Sir!”

“And what else?” Roy prompted his slave.

“To train me, Sir … to make me serve you, Sir!” Kevin said falteringly.

“Yes, it will purge and purify you, and teach you, Turd!”

“Yes, Sir!” It all seemed to Kevin more as an S&M-game of fantasy and not pure reality.

“You, Boy, have a lot to answer for. You know you were destined to be a slave from the outlet, but you have avoided capture for nearly twenty years up to now. All that is over now. I have captured and bought you from Simon, and by God, I am going to show you how to be the perfect slave! Do you want to feel this whip now?”

Kevin choked. What choice he had got? Roy could see fear creep into those eyes, and he got excited.

“How dare you stand before your Master clothed like this? My whip needs naked flesh to lick.” Roy reached forward and grabbed Kevin’s pajama’s waistband, tugged violently, and buttons flew everywhere.

“Get the idiot stripped, John!” Roy ordered, and both men began tearing the thin, moist cotton from the bound slave. The material did not resist except where it met the shackled ankles, but totally disregarding the effect upon the shaking boy, John pulled and tore the weak material until a naked body stood trembling in front of its owner.

“On your knees!” Demanded John. Kevin led his body sink forward and down. His knees met what felt like a tray of broken glass. It was a very rough coconut-mat, the bristles of which bit into his naked knees.

“Unless I say otherwise – that is how you will be from now on.” Roy said. “You will crawl on your belly if I say so. You will always remain on your hand and knees with your eyes cast down, unless you are told otherwise. Understand?!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Roy slid off the table and came to stand close in front of the kneeling figure. He shuffled his feet slightly apart.

“Head down, and worship your Master’s boots, dog!”

Kevin went down and let his tongue make contact with the soft leather uppers. This should be his routine-task day-in day-out for the rest of his pathetic life. As Kevin bent over, John allowed the thongs of his whip fall gently on the slave’s back. He drew the whip downwards dragging the flails over the tingling flesh down to the voluptuous ass. Roy’s voice menacingly came to the slave’s ears:

“Your Masters are now going to teach you what pain is, understand?”

“Yes. Sir!” Kevin muttered between slobbery licks of the big man boots.

“There will be a big difference to those silly games you played with your make-believe Master Simon, Dog! You could beg for mercy from him and you would get it. Here however, only your Owner knows when you have enough, so there is no point in bleating for the pain to stop. In fact, Shit-heap, if I hear you pleading for mercy, I will hit you even harder. As a slave you have no rights, got it?!”

“Yes, Sir!” Kevin mumbled indistinctly into the wet leather boots.

“Take his other arm, John,” Roy said as Kevin felt himself being lifted bodily and being dragged forward to the end of the table. His arm were pulled forward dragging the corpse along between the various rings and chains. Straps flapped across his shoulders and waist. His Masters pulled his body tightly in contact with the table’s surface. Kevin’s legs were pulled wide apart and secured in three places to the fixings by chain and rope. John slid beneath the table and grabbed Kevin’s balls and prick not very gently, wrenching then downwards and tying cords around them to which he fixed a heavy weight. Kevin felt his sack stretched angrily and he clenched his teeth. All was ready now.

“Okay, Turd!” Exclaimed Roy, “you have one request from your generous Mater. Make it!”

With his body taut and almost incapable of registering the quaking trembles his senses, the slave-boy knew he would be allowed only to beg for the punishment to begin. So he stammered:

“Please, Sir, I am full of sin, and I beg you to punish and purge me as you see fit, Sir!”

Roy looked down on the naked curves of his slave now filling that exciting torture wrack. “Get on the other side, John.” He said.

Kevin tensed and lay perfectly still awaiting the first pang of severe pain. Roy winked at John who raised his right arm and brought his whip down across the pink flesh.

Immediately after, a lash cut across the upturned buttocks from the other side. This prompted another cut lower down the back from John. Kevin felt tears fill his eyes, but he knew it would be useless asking for the pain to stop. It had hardly begun.

Lash – lash – lash – lash …

The blows hit the reddening flesh repeatedly sending increasing pain and anguish through the bound body beneath Roy’s delighted gaze.

He caught a glimpse of just what he wanted to see: The uncontrolled flexing of every muscle in the young Kevin’s frame. He could see the slave struggle against the bonds to spare his flesh of the maximum effect of the whips.

One of the whippers moved to the foot of the table and began stroking the trench between the crimson buttocks. The other whip lined up along the same target. Kevin almost jumped off from the table what the strong fetters however prevented. The two masters then moved to the opposite side of the table to cover the rest of the sweating body liberally with their lashes. There was a pause now.

“You will worship and adore your masters the more they hurt you, dog,” said Roy. “Forget your past and empty your mind to let the spirit of your master take over. You will work as you have never worked before. You will serve your Masters continually without regard to fatigue or suffering. Understand?”

Kevin tried to hide his sobbing. “Yes, .. M A S T E R!”

This was only an interval for the beating resumed for another long spell until Roy told John to stop. “Untie him, John!”

Kevin’s wracked body remained stuck to the wooden surface. John removed the weight but did not untie the prick and balls from the tight bondage.

Chapter four

“On your knees, dog!” John ordered the naked slave.

Kevin forced himself to slide backwards off the table and assumed a kneeling posture on the bristly mat. He bowed his head.

“What do you say, turd?” His owner declared.

“Thank you, Master!”

John was standing behind the kneeling figure. Kevin felt a cold metal collar being placed over his throat. It was broad and had spikes on the top and bottom edges. It pulled tight around his neck, and he heard the click of a lock as it was secured.

A heavy chain was attached and draped over the shoulder to remind Kevin that he was no longer a free man. In fact, he was no longer a MAN.

Roy placed a suitcase on the end of the table. “Are these your clothes?”

“Yes, Sir!” Kevin thought it was the correct answer.

“Wrong answer, Stupid! A slave doesn’t have any possessions! You are owned by your Master, and to whom belongs then these things?” Roy said in a stern tone.

“They belong to YOU, to my owner, Sir!” replied Kevin meekly. He has got the message now.

“John, get Tony to burn this lot tomorrow morning, unless there is anything you would like.” Roy rummaged through the contents of the case and came out with Kevin’s pride and joy: A gold-watch.

“Rubbish!” He exclaimed as he held the straps and smashed it against the corner of the table. Kevin heard bit of the watch fly in all directions. Regardless of the shocked face of Kevin, Roy let the lid of the case fall shut as he moved over the crouching figure and pulled his head up.

“Remember, Boy, you’ll have no time to contemplate over possessions. You are a ‘possession’ now, and as my slave you have surrendered up everything of this world. A nothing owns nothing! Remember that!”

He slapped Kevin’s face almost sending him over on his side.

“Take him next door, John, and string him up!” Roy commanded.

Roy turned his back on Kevin, and John grabbed the chain-leash and pulled the slave around and made him crawl on all fours back into the candle-lit dungeon. Then John unfastened the wrists and ankles and pushed Kevin with his back up against the stone wall. He stretched out one arm and secured it to a bracelet hanging from a ring fixed in the wall. The other arm was fixed likewise to the opposite side. Then he kicked Kevin’s legs out as far as it would go and secured the feet to shackles in the wall.

John took a length of chain and pulled it tight over Kevin’s gut and through two rings in the wall close to his waist. A padlock secured the fixture.

John went back to the other room and came back with a torturous weight which he clasped to the hanging chain from the ball- and prick-bondage. Kevin involuntarily let out a cry of pain … the weight pulled the balls cruelly downward. Kevin felt his wrists and ankles take the strain as he tried to wiggle his body to avert the agony that passed through his whole body.

Roy came in carrying a small table which he set down alongside Kevin’s right foot.

Real fear flooded through Kevin’s brain as he saw Roy drag a fire-basket from the hidden corner of the room. It contained red hot coals and gave off a sulphureous smell. Roy stood now in front of Kevin and probed his fingers in the slave’s mouth.

“Yes indeed! Simon told me he had false teeth already. Have you eaten too much sweets and candy in your childhood? Just nineteen years old and already dentures. Our youth is sick when eating only fat burgers, sweets and unhealthy food.” Mocked Roy.

John looked up as Roy pulled the dentures out and – ensuring that Kevin could see – threw them into the fire basket. “No need for those any more! You are not going to eat solids ever again, Slave!”

“That’s good,” John said jestingly, “I hate having my fat prick bitten by teeth!”

“Exactly,” laughed Roy, “and the bastard is lucky yet! If he had still his own teeth, I would have pulled them out here and now, one by one!”

Roy grasped the wooden handle of an iron that rested inside the hot coals. “There is no turning back now, Shit. You are my property and I am going to make sure you know it.”

He pulled out the red hot iron. Kevin looked and shut his eyes. Suddenly an oily rag was pushed into his mouth stuffing it full and forcing the jaws wide open. Kevin was relieved it wasn’t anything worse, opened his eyes just in time to see the glowing tip of the branding iron approach his skin of his right shoulder.

Szzzzztt – the pain was unbearable!! Kevin fought against the pain practically breaking his ankles and wrists. There was a fearsome stench of burning flesh. When he came to consciousness he found water streaming down his body, and saw John replace a bucket to one side of the room, The candle-light seemed to echo his tortured brain as it glowed a deep red.

“I think that is all for tonight. John. We had better get some sleep. Tony will get the slave down and shave it for me. Come on, John!”

Both men left the dungeon.

Chapter five

The naked, branded figure of Kevin crucified as it were against the wall of the cold stone wall of the candle-lit dungeon reflected the soft yellowish light back into the gloom as he hung there pinioned by chain and fetters with arms outstretched  and legs far widespread. He thought to himself: “Why aren’t there some watching eyes looking up at my suffering? What pleasure are my captors gaining if they are not watching my anguish and pain?

His arm and legs ache and his shoulder burned intensely from the branding iron.

Meanwhile, Roy and John were sitting in the living room one store higher, watching videos and having their bedtime drink. The fire which Tony had prepared to warm the comfortable living room was now burning low in the evening time.

“Well, John, Time to go to bed. You have had a very busy day driving and you must be tired.”

“Yes, I guess you are right, but I feel so comfortable. I wonder if that little ‘turd’ feels comfortable down there …” John said as he yawned in response to Roy’s suggestion of bed.

“You are wondering what he contemplates?” Roy said with a laugh, “it will be considering what hits him next. It will do him good to sweat a bit. He knows that Tony will be calling on him soon. I’m sure that is going to work out!”

“Uhu, and what is that?” John enquired curiously.

“Okay. Tony came to me a year ago as a ‘houseboy’. He wanted to be dominated, but I noted he was far too intelligent to be a proper slave, and soon he showed his interests were really in being a top-man. I promised him that one day I would teach him to rule a subordinate, and now his time has come.”

“You mean he will be mastering Kevin?”

“Exactly! He has been out to a few slaves I had set up for him and proved himself highly capable of making them squirm! What is good is  that he still accepts me as his true master, and it will be great for you and me to see him obey us when we send him to do something diabolical to that lump of shit in the cellar!”

“You bet!” John remarked excitedly.

“John, go to see your bed. I am just going to take a look downstairs and see if Tony has started. I hope not in a way, for I want to do one job myself and see the turd’s face.”

“Great! And what might that be?” John asked.

“Tony is going to shave ‘its’ body. But I am going further than that … need I say more?” Roy chuckled.

“No, but if you don’t mind I will hold myself back until the morning and look upon the new image of a slave in daylight!” John said as he put his glass down and got up to go to bed.

“Good night, see you in the morning.” Roy uttered as he opened the cellarhead-door.

*   *

Kevin arms and legs ached even more as the time passed by. He could not believe so much had happened in this one waking day. He had been a ‘free’ man in the bar as late as early evening. He had been driven back to his flat and made clear up all traces of his former existence, and he had traveled a very long distance to be pinned to the wall of this cellar as the captive slave of a friend of his former play-master Simon.

No wonder, he was confused. He was jerked back into full consciousness as the door burst open and a dim figure came through seemingly full of energy.

“Well then, here we are, you little treasure! Time to get you spruced up a bit,” said a voice pounding with enthusiasm. The figure approached and immediately released Kevin’s feet from the fetters. They dropped like two lumps of lead and found a resting place on the cold stone floor.

“See this!” The figure continued as he held out a thick whip with many thongs. “You had better do as I say or else you will regret it, Boy! Remember, you obey me as you would do  to your real owner and you might spare yourself a lot more discomfort than you have had so far.”

The figure feverishly unfastened first one arm and then the other. Kevin almost fell forward as the pressure was released. As he slumped forward from sheer exhaustion he heard the voice command:

“On your knees, dog!”

At this close, Kevin could see that the man in charge of him was dressed in a pair of satin shorts only and boots. He felt fingers grasp one ear so he could not explore with his eyes any more of the strange figure who was so intent on speed and efficiency. He followed the swift movement of his ear still kneeling upright dragging each bent leg forward in a vein attempt to keep up with his Master.

The doorway through which the figure had appeared was in fact the doorway into the room with the wooden wrack. As soon as they were inside, Kevin was ordered to get up on to the table and was made to lie flat on his back.

At least that spared him the whipping he remembered from a hour or so earlier. The room was lit by one electric bulb over the table. Kevin just had time to identify his “handler” as Tony who first pushed him down the chute into the coal-hole. The springy young man moved around the table quickly securing Kevin’s wrists far above his head, and the ankles –widespread – which he tied to the foot of the heavy table.

Suddenly Kevin heard his “Master” jump up on the table somewhere above his head. He felt his head being straddled by two firm thighs. A large, firm cock slid over his nose followed by a pair of heavy testicles. They paused to permit the tip of Kevin’s tongue to pay homage uninvited. There was a swish and a flash of pain in his groin as Tony reminded him:

“Wait, greedy pig. I’ll tell you when!”

Tony shuffled forward again bringing his small rounded buttocks to rest on his subject’s face.

“Now you can worship me, Turd!” Tony called out.

Obediently, Kevin probed with his tongue and made contact with Tony’s most voluptuous hole. Simon had already initiated him in this kind of adoration as a game. He was soon to come to grips with the ultimate at the hands of his new owner.

Suddenly there was the sound of water being squeezed out of a sponge or cloth, and Kevin’ genitals were soaked in hot soapy water. Tony’s body leant forward, and with swift sweeps of an razor Tony had Kevin’s penis and scrotum tripped of all hair. He carefully removed every single hair shrouding his limp prick, and the slave felt his ‘manhood’ depart as his smooth skin appeared all around his belly and crotch. His mind turned to what was happening way down between his legs, and his tongue somehow lost contact with that circular orifice. It was as if the removal of hair from his crotch made his flesh tender to the tip of the whip when Tony’s whip struck home and sent a violent pain through Kevin’s frame as he was instructed to “Keep licking, bastard!”.

As Tony completed stripping Kevin’s lower torso. He shifted his body backwards over Kevin’s face once more bringing his full ball-sac poised about Kevin’s mouth.

“Open your mouth!” And Kevin obliged. One of the heavy balls dropped into the wide-open cavity. He began to worship feverishly as Tony’s razor moved over the stubbly chest. Kevin closed his lips lightly and sucked hard. The second ball shot into his mouth filling it to capacity. He moved his tongue chasing the tasty spheres and became oblivious of the de-furring going all over his chest and abdomen.

Tony slapped Kevin’s ribs with his hand: “Loose!” The mouth opened and the balls were lifted dripping with saliva. Tony jumped down and began working on the armpits with his razor.

*   *

“Everything okay, Tony?” a sonorous voice was heard.

“Yes Sir, everything going well!” Tony replied to the entering Roy.

“Finish off the legs and then get the pig on the floor on its knees.”

Kevin’s mind went into a whirl. What was lying in wait for him? Tony released each leg in turn and thoroughly shaved off every hair , some of which were stubborn. However more soapy water and a vigorous sweep of the razor soon had the skin pristine smooth.

Roy leaned over and fastened one of the center straps around Kevin’s waist. A chain was attached to each ankle restraint and his leg were winched by force up over his belly until his feet were pretty close to his ears. Kevin could not but whine.

“There you are, Tony, now you can clean up the crack and ass-hole being better accessible.”

Tony got to work with the razor carefully steering it around the rim and using much soap; soon he had this portion of the slave’s anatomy perfectly smooth.

“Look, Toy, I will leave you this cream. Rub it well in all over the shaved areas after having finished shaving. It should prevent any further growth of hair around. But be aware!: It will make the shit yelp blue murder and the boy will struggle like mad, so keep your whip handy!” Roy warned his helper.

As soon as Tony had finished the shaving of the torso. He released Kevin and had him kneel at the side of the table with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Better put the cuffs on, Tony. We might be confronted to some resistance here …” Roy advised as he came to stand close beside the kneeling slave. Kevin’s face touched Roy’s black shiny leather jeans making him feel even more inferior than he had ever felt under the games he and Simon had played out earlier.

Then the shock of soapy water pouring over his head blunted his mind. Kevin could not even consider the outcome of this. He then heard the ‘click – click’ of trimming shears near his left ear, and sensed lumps of his hair fall onto his shoulders. At the same time his hands were pulled together and clamped into irons. Oh no, he realized he was shaven bald like a slave in the antiquity!

Tony was stopping in front of Kevin, looking into his eyes and grinning. Kevin returned the gaze and saw that Tony had already replaced his blue satin trunks and rubber boots. He was certainly a most handsome man, quite a few years older than Kevin.

Great lumps of hair continued to fall down the slave’s naked body, and yet he did not appreciate the obvious implications of this move. He would never again be “presentable” in the outside world! He was shortly to realize with some trepidation, that he would in fact never be required to show himself in public again as he was to be a “permanent” slave to his new owner.

With deft fingers, Roy steered the razor over Kevin’s head carefully removing any suggestion it had ever born hair.

“Christ,” exclaimed Tony in utter amazement, “I am glad you never did that to me, Sir!”

“I bet you are! But Tony, I knew your potential and I intended to train you for a proper role in life so that you could enjoy being a master. This turd is fit only to be dominated for the rest of its natural life., and it is to be destined to be a slave for good and must appear to be one as well,” Roy said as he rinsed the last traces of soap from the now totally bald head. Kevin felt a cold chill around his skull as well as inside his guts.

“Okay, Tony. If you are ready, get it back on the table if you like and tidy up the back before applying the medication. I leave him to you, my friend. Don’t stay too long because you will have a big day tomorrow outdoors breaking this animal once and for all as my ‘shit-slave’.”

Roy patted Tony on the shoulder and went back to John now tucked in bed. Just before he finally closed the door behind him he turned and said to Tony: “After you have serviced me in the morning and prepared my bath, I want you to service John too. Don’t go to the toilet afterwards! I have one final lesson for you down here. Good night.”

Kevin mused to himself that Toy was not yet a fully-fledged Master and had things to learn from his cunning tutor. But what was all that about? No time to dredge up an answer as he was tapped in the crotch by Tony’s boot as he knelt naked than he had even imagined possible.

“Get up there, Turd!” the ‘new’ master instructed. Kevin was soon strapped face down to the boards. His glossy buttocks invitingly tempted Tony to ‘exercise his right arm’, but he regained for a while as he had work to do.

Slopping soapy water over Kevin’s back, he got to work on the last vestiges of hair clinging to the reluctant slave’s body. Drawing the razor down the spine and between the shoulder blades, Tony finished the job to perfection. The whole body was hairless like a new-born baby.

“There, Slave, now you are no longer a man.”

Kevin had no doubts. He felt utterly humiliated and helpless. His body was now burning and tingling from the scrapings of the razor. He heard Tony shake the bottle of lubricant that Roy had suggested would make him struggle when it was applied, and he trembled at the unknown results of this forthcoming message. He heard Tony putting on rubber gloves and prepared himself for the worst.

As the first puddle formed in the center of his back, his body burned fiercely. Tony’s firm fingers rubbed the liquid into the tender skin causing him to gasp with the pain. Tony poured more from the bottle and kneaded it thoroughly all over the slave’s back. Down the curvature of the spine and round and round the plump little red buttocks. Tony placed the bottle on the surface of the wrack beside the throbbing and applied both hands, pressing down making the ass open. Liquid trickle down and touched the entrance to that secret cavity – but secret no more! It was now at the mercy of the young master finding his true vocation after many month of grinding tuition from his master.

Tony prized open the cheeks and allowed his rubber-clad fingers to probe into the crack. For a while the rubbing in of the de-hairing liquid became second to the pleasure he found in probing first one finger, the two, then three and finally four into the tight little ass-hole. Twisting the fingers slightly he pressed down.

His hand slid gently at first into the stretched opening but the pressure became too intense for Kevin. He jerked his thighs with little effect for the bondage .Tony had secured . was an expert as any Slave-master could achieve. And Kevin could not dissuade the intruding fingers from penetrating right into the crevice.

Kevin yelled.

“You can scream as much as you like, Turd, but no one will hear you.” In excitement, Tony ejaculated as he pressed on with his avowed desire to fill the bound slave’s ass with his black coated fingers.

Tony suddenly stopped and held his hand – two-thirds imbedded – in the stretched cavity. He slowly and for Kevin painfully withdraw inch by inch. As soon as the last digit was clear, Tony took up the whip that lay beside Kevin and gave the slave half a dozen good lashes with it.

He went to work on the legs before turning Kevin over and starting on the front. Tony carefully applied the liquid first to the area surrounding the newly-created brand marking – not so much to spare Kevin of excruciating pain, but to prevent the ointment-pate to contaminating the burned-in identity mark and causing infection.

The pain could not have been more intense to the yelling Kevin than Tony had swept over the mark, but Kevin felt a kind of compassion reach out from his ‘masseur’ or thought he did. However Tony grinning commented:

“Shut up, Idiot, stop that pathetic whining. You are nothing but a slave, and slaves are to endure every pain possible for the liking of their Owners.”

It was as well Tony had tied the slave down firmly again tensing each bond securely before he reached the prick and ball-sac with the ointment. The pain was this intense that Kevin yelled at the top of his lungs and finally passed out, as Tony’s rubber-clad hands pressed the liquid regardless of the burning sensation into the soft, freshly shaven and exposed genitals of the slave-boy.

“Didn’t I tell you, Boy, that till now you have not experienced what true pain really is?” Tony mocked when Kevin came back to his sense. Kevin could not answer, just cry. His whole groin was crimson like on fire.

There was probably very little of the night hours left, so Tony simply took one last look at his trembling victim before turning and blowing out the candles. Kevin was alone in the darkness contemplating under the continuing and increasing burning all that had taken place in the last ten or twelve hours. His thoughts flashed to the impending future, but he quickly blocked any idea of what might lay ahead. It was enough to realize that he was for ever totally at the mercy of his owner and two masters. He dare not venture beyond the promise of being “broken in” tomorrow morning whatever that meant.

Chapter six

John is reporting …

When I came down to breakfast, Roy was already seated at the table and Tony was serving him with hot coffee.

“Good morning. Had a good rest?” Roy said cheerfully. I replied, “yes thanks. Did you?”

I sat down, and Tony immediately came round and poured my coffee as she wished me a good morning.

“Ready for a good day’s sport, John?” Roy continued. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Roy: “How is the Turd this morning?”

“Okay, Sir. I took a quick look in before I set out breakfast. I left the slave on the table. I hope that was alright. He didn’t stir when I shone a torch on him, but he was snoring in his sleep.” Tony reported.

“I should hope you didn’t see him stir, Boy,” Roy retorted with a chuckle, “otherwise your bondage technique would need sharpening up!”

“What shall I do first, Sir?” enquired Tony. The slender young man freshly risen to the ranks of “supervisor” at least stood at tentatively beside Roy casting down a loving look to his former master and continuing owner.

Roy returned the smile as he looked up into Toy’s eyes. “You and John here are doing to help me break this ‘monster’ in, today. You can start laying out the gear in the paddock. You know: the rails, the jumps, the steel poles I showed you last night, and the ‘A’-frame. Put all that doddery out from the outhouse , and the two boxes of things near door. John and I will see to the removal of the slave in a little while.”

Tony politely bowed to us both as he retired.

“He is a good lad,” Roy said to me, “he will go a long way I’m sure, and although he doesn’t have much idea of what we are going to do today, I know he will be blissfully happy in ruling my slave and making its life hell!”

I looked at Roy: “That makes two of us,” I said, “what fun and games have you in mind then?”

Roy frowned slightly as he replied: “NOT fun and games, John, it is the REAL thing! I want to really turn that body down there into a worshipping and respectful slave by the end of the day and make it realize that it belongs to me and cannot exist for any other purpose than to work and slave for us. He is to be like a demented beast then.”

Roy’s notion excited me greatly, though I was still in the dark as to how he would achieve his objective.

“More coffee?” Roy asked. I nodded yes and held my cup out for a  refill.

“You brought some of the guy’s valuables with you in the case? Roy asked.

“Yes, watches, money documents .. that kind of things.” I said.

“First of all, we’ll have a little ‘initiation’-ceremony. I might get Tony in and present him with Kevin’s clothing. That will indicate something to the turd. I will offer you some of the valuables. Even if you don’t want them, accept them and show enthusiasm. I’ll send Tony out with some clothes and rubbish to burn.”

Roy had obviously worked it all out to present his slave with the maximum amount of psychological humiliation as he could. He continued: “How do you feel about scat, John?”

This was an unexpected query at this time of morning. Of course, I was interested, but wasn’t sure what depth Roy himself was into this kind of thing. “I have done it before, Roy, and I enjoyed it. It has been a game of course in mutual agreement, when I stood over my ‘victim’ and defecated on it. It was a more symbolic act than a forced suppression ….”

Roy interrupted me: “No, I don’t mean ‘shit on’, rather I mean ‘shit into’! I intend to feed the bastard by force, and wondered if you would like to offer him YOUR nourishment, too!”

The imagination of this act intrigued me, but I wasn’t sure if it would work for me as it was obviously going to work for Roy. I knew I would enjoy the humiliation involved, and I always wanted to go to the limits with a willing partner, but here we were not concerned in any way with “willing” on the part of the submissive. Roy seemed not at all worried about the nausea if his victim – it had to endure this feeling and perform regardless if “it” wanted to avoid further pain.

“What about Tony?” I enquired and felt that Tony was probably going to spend far more time with the victim than I could, and Tony was a better and stronger contender to degrade Kevin. Roy saw the point without having to ask my reasons.

“Perhaps you had better perform your part privately later on. Good idea to put Tony in at the deep end,” Roy said.

“Have you ever done it to Tony in the past?” I asked.

“No, but he always knew I could do whatever I wanted, including scat, and this will show him he is far superior to the new slave, and give him extra confidence in using whips and things.” Roy said. “I want Tony to be constructive with the whip, not just blasting away for pleasure. He has had plenty of experience at the receiving end, so he may feel shy about holding the whip-handle himself.”

Roy was right of course, a whippee may administer whipping more sensibly, because he has felt the lash himself, but on the other hand, he will know best how to apply pressure to get results, and Roy was right to encourage Tony.

Roy stood up. “Okay, finished? Shall we go then and see what our ‘treasure’ can take?”

I agreed. We exchanged the warm morning sunshine streaming into the breakfast room for the gloom of the basement cellars. Tony lit the candles, and once my eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, I saw the table in the center of the room with the naked figure strapped at full stretch lying motionless on top. Beyond this room the inner chamber was also candle-lit and gave the cellar a mysterious atmosphere.

“Untie it!” Roy called to me. I could feel the flesh within the straps shaking as I released the ankles and wrists. Roy yelled at the still motionless figure: “Stand!”

Kevin slid off the table obviously suffering from slight cramp after several hours of total confinement.

Roy cracked his short whip in the air. “On your fucking knees, Turd!” he yelled. The naked slave dropped immediately down and almost casually clasped his hands together behind his back invitingly. Roy took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and threw them over to where I stood behind Kevin’s kneeling body. I grabbed the wrists and secured the willing wrists.

Slowly and deliberately Roy delivered an address which was designed to humiliate and render his subject totally subservient to its new Master and Owner. “To-day you begin a new and entirely different life. You will learn to worship and respect your Master –– no matter how much they punish and hurt you. In fact, I am going to teach you how to beg for more and more pain. You won’t ever be happy unless you are suffering torture, pain and humiliation. You are a slave – no longer a human being. Understand?!”

Roy twirled his whip in front of the cowering naked figure, Tony slipped into the cell just then having completed his duties outside. He stood beside his former Master somewhat bewildered, and perhaps now showing great relief that the attention of this strong-willed Master was now directed elsewhere. I moved round to the front of Kevin almost motionless as he knelt obediently with head bowed. I could just see his muscled twitch as his mind absorbed the teaching of his new owner.

The slave began to mumble obediently something about being worthless and begging for correction. Roy’s mouth twitched as he listened to the string of platitudes oozing from the youth’s lips. It all sounded so much the kind of gamble that we all said and listened to in the S&M-games we indulged ourselves in for an evening for fun.

“I beg you, Master, teach this unworthy slave to obey your every command …” Kevin muttered. There was a longish pause before there was a ..”SIR!”

“You should fucking-well think so,” Roy roared as he twirled his whip a bit closer to the bowed head. “Let me once hear you babble on without putting ‘Sir’ in and you will be destroyed. Get it?!” Tony cringed slightly as he witnessed Roy slap the kneeling figure hard across the face. Roy continued: “Come to think of it, you won’t be speaking much after to-day as you will then be nothing better than the lowest of low animals. Roy had smiled at the prospect of destroying the ‘games’ image that still pervaded Kevin’s concept of what was going on. “Yes, Sir. Make me your slave, Sir, I beg you. Sir,” he pleaded.

Roy sniggered: “No need to beg, you stupid shit! You ARE already a fucking slave. I am going to make you a fucking animal. Understand!” Roy allowed the tip of his whip to graze the bald head that glistened before him. I supposed I had not really studied the excellent work of Tony before this, but I stared down at the totally bald bare body before me, it looked more like an animals than a human being. Not a hair in sight, and the flesh looked fresh and inviting to my whip in my right hand. My arm felt an urge to swing out and mark that property kneeling there.

Roy continued with his slow but effective degrading of his slave: “You were propagated from the spunk of your father-stud and conceived and delivered by your mother-mare, the product of a stallion and a steed, so you never was a man just a lump of a beast. A mere shit” Roy emphasized the final word. “You are NOT human, are you?”

“Err … NO, Sir!”

“No. Sir! That’s not enough, I want to hear you renounce your parentage, Boy! Speak up, so we all can hear you!”

“Sir, I renounce my parentage …” There was a pause. I could see Roy smile. “Get it on its feet, John.” Roy quietly said. I leaned forward and grabbed the steel-bound wrists and pulled upwards.

“Bend it over the table there.” I twisted the limp body round and pressed my hand firmly into Kevin’s back. Roy moved round. He positioned himself and swung the whip really hard. I felt Kevin’s body shudder as he took the first of many whacks. Even Tony winced at the ferocity of Roy’s ‘intuition’.

As the thongs burned into the hairless pink flesh I could feel Kevin try his awkward stance and let his body slide, but I pressed down even more firmly. Roy stopped. I could hear the slave whimpering quietly with pain.

“Get back on your knees and remember ‘SIR’, you stupid turd!” My hand involuntarily helped the slave resume his kneeling position.

Roy pressed down with his de-humanizing words: “You still sound unconvincing. Let me hear you say …” The Boy quickly repeated after Roy: “I renounce all rights and privileges of the word. Sir! I am not better than the lowest animal, Sir. I am the property of You, my owner, Sir! And I will worship and pay homage to my owner day and night for the rest of the days granted to me by You, my God and Master, Sir!”

Roy made him repeat the oaths over and over again as he played his whip over the slave’s back, arms, and chest. I could hear the chance  in the boy’s voice from its parrot-fashion repetition of mere words to an anguish cry pleading for the mercy that the slave knew would never be granted.

Roy stepped forward and pressed his left hand on Kevin’s forehead. He pushed to make the slave look up straight into Roy’s severe look of superiority and determination. With his right hand he unzipped his fly in the leather-jeans and allowed his prick to bounce out. He shuffled his legs to a more comfortable posture and let fly a stream of hot piss all over the naked body.

My own cock began to tingle and as Roy nodded approvingly at my fumbling fingers I too added my “comment” of humiliating onto the pink body below.

Roy then signaled to Tony to come and stand closer to Kevin’s chest. “Fill the fucker, Tony!” Roy said. Tony took out his very rigid prick and stuffed it right into the gaping mouth. “Good,” Roy commented, “from now on, Tony, that is where all your piss will go.”

Tony nodded approvingly as he shook the last droplets from his prick. He wiped it clean over the slave’s face and stepped back to stand beside Roy. “Head bowed!” Roy shouted.

“You have had that before, but it is no game here. You will drink piss because you are nothing more than a piss-pot, understand?!”

“Yes, Sir, thank you Sir!” Kevin’s voice was now far less sounding smug and insincere. Roy continued:

“Night and morning you’ll be fed and watered by us, and you had better get used to it and appreciate our cherishing. The work you are going to be put to  means you have got to have strength, and that strength will be given you this way.”

Roy beckoned to Tony: “Take your shorts off. Feed the shit-hole there, Boy!”

Tony’s eyes glistened as he pushed his blue silk shorts to his ankles and turned slowly to present his plump buttocks to Kevin’s stunned gaze. The slave soon knew what would happen. His body began to twitch and tremble as Tony shuffled his ass against Kevin’s head. He pressed backwards forcing the slave to lean back heavily on his ankles.

“Open your legs, Tony.” Roy suggested as he leaned down and wound a length of cord around the genitals of the slave. He stood up gripping the other end of the cord which he began to pull.

“Okay, Tony, fill the cunt!” Tony grimaced as he took in a deep breath. “Don’t be afraid, boy, you will come to enjoy this act every day and night. Come on, give it plenty!”

I watched Tony’s face as he went through all the embarrassment of doing something that had never happened to him in his days as a slave. He shouted to Kevin: “Open your mouth wide and dare not to shut it, or you will regret it!” Kevin opened his mouth wide apart and shut his eyes in horror.

Suddenly he smiled as he exploded into the open mouth of the body beneath his ample bottom. I heard Kevin gag slightly in a vein attempt to resist the inevitable.

Tony strained to expel the contents of his rectum regardless of the suppressed retching of poor Kevin. He had hard to struggle to keep the fat and hard turds in his mouth and swallow them down his gullet.

Finally, after five fat “logs” delivered, Roy finished his toilet and raised himself slightly. Roy tugged violently on the ball-tether in his hand. He commanded. “Lick the hole clean, pig!”

Kevin’s tongue probed obediently if reluctantly as Tony gradually stood up. Kevin was kneeling upright. “Take the cuffs off, John,” Roy said to me. Tony moved away. Roy twirled him around and examined his rear or better to say  his hairy crack.

“Oh, not a very good job, Tony. Brown stains in the sphincter! Always insist the job is done properly!” Take this and show the turd the right way!” Tony happily took hold of the whip and gave the pink slave several hard swings as he abused him verbally before pushing again his naked ass into the face to be thoroughly cleaned. Tony’s hand moved around the back of the slave’s head and pulled it hard into his crack.”

“Go, go, you pig, I want to feel your lazy tongue not just swirling around my shitter but as deep inside as well!” Tony ordered. Kevin’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets with strain.

When Tony and Roy were satisfied the work had been accomplished, Roy turned slowly to present a leather clad posterior to the slave’s gaze. “You will pay homage to this night and day, and worship it. You will beg for food from it, and beg and beg and beg for more when hunger pangs your stomach,” Roy announced. He reached round with one hand and found the top of a long zip. The black leather jeans parted revealing a firm round solid-looking backside.

He made Kevin gaze at it for a few minutes. “You can start worshipping!” Roy said as he looked over his shoulder. Kevin stuck out his tongue and kissed and licked the hard muscled flesh before him. His eyes gave away a whole lifetime’s fear as he gently probed into the hairy crevice.

“Cup your hands together to receive!” Kevin’s face turned ashen as he fought against a desire to puke and he waited for what was to happen. Roy’s ass wavered from side to side slightly before the tip of a huge brown object slowly emerged from the tunnel. It fell heavily into the cupped hands of the recipient. Roy suddenly turned around:

“That’s a luxury for a shit like you. Look at it! Thank your Master for his generous gift to an unworthy bastard!”

It was good to my eyes to see real fear spread all over the slave’s face as he contemplated his owner’s next command: “Lick it and show me you enjoy it!”

Kevin’s hands were trembling violently as he dipped his head and allowed his tongue to slide along the length of the enormous offering before him.

Roy took the whip from Tony and began to play it over Kevin’s back as he made him kneel and stare at the plump juicy object that filled his cupped hands to capacity. Then sharply came the order:

“Now EAT!”

My cock throbbed as I watched the squirming slave-boy open his mouth hesitantly and take in the end of the 8-inches long turd. Obviously, it was far more difficult for him to consume his “nourishment” this way. It cost him all his willpower to force himself to obey this horrible command without displaying too much revulsion. When the “nourishment” passed directly from the source into his throat, there was nothing the recipient could do about it, just devouring it as quick as possible without tasting; but this way now the boy had to slowly accustom himself and his eyes to the most degrading situation he had even before encountered. And in addition it was impossible to avoid the bitter-foul taste of his “food”. Roy’s whip “helped” the slave to perform as ordered!

*   *

Once the deed was done, Kevin shuddered with disgust and struggled against vomiting. But Roy did not allow any respite in forcing his will upon his new property. He bowed near to Kevin’s face and ordered: “Open your snout!” Roy checked if all brown stuff had been swallowed and if Kevin’s lips and teeth were moderately clean.

Then he turned and presented his hairy ass to Kevin’s face, pushed backwards until the mouth was firmly centered under the chute. He grabbed Kevin’s head with his left hand and pulled it hard up into the crack.

Kevin gagged and struggled as the rest of his owner’s “nourishment” passed directly down his retching throat. But apparently Roy was not contend with Kevin’s performance. He said to Tony: ”Please, give me the whip!” And when he had got it, his right arm swung high and landed the whip-thongs hard on the exposed genitals of the slave-boy making him wince. “Swallow faster, you lazy beast, or I’ll whip the skin off from your balls!” I saw the poor slave swallowing frenetically.

When the “living toilet” was released, the panicking boy was gasping for air. Nevertheless, Roy made him rim and lick his ass clean before turning and pulling up the zip behind his jeans. “What do you say?!?!” Roy snapped at the panting Kevin.

“Thank you Sir!” Kevin muttered almost indistinctly. Roy flicked the whip raising another bright red stripe on the slave’s back. “I can’t hear you!”

Kevin repeated his gratitude more loudly.

“It didn’t sound very convincing, Roy,” I commented.

“No, you are right! Perhaps the turd is still hungry … You are to feed him in there on when you putting it through its paces,” Roy said gesticulating towards the inner room.

“Up on your feet, slave!” Roy demanded.

Kevin rose and stood meekly, head bowed, with his hands clasped behind his back.

“John, it belongs to you for the next thirty minutes. Take it in there. You will find plenty of equipment. I’ll see you outside in the paddock then.”

I was warmed up to the possibility of “drilling” our new candidate, and eagerly turned to drive Kevin to the next stage in his initiation. Roy and I had discussed my program earlier, and I know exactly what was needed to begin the real breakdown of the former manly figure that was Kevin.

“Get in there!” I demanded as I swung my whip at the buttocks that glistened in the soft candlelight. I watched the figure slowly walk into the inner chamber and caught sight of the face that told me the slave was wondering what was about to happen him.

“Halt!” Kevin obeyed coming to attention in the middle of the candle-lit den. I came in behind him and could not resist drawing my whip across the inviting ass of the slave. He flinched and moved one foot a few inches forward. I ceased upon this to commence my work.

“You dare try to escape the whip?!” I yelled. “Stand still and take your medicine!”

I swung my arm bringing the lash across the same portion of that tender ass. Kevin tried hard not to react, but the other foot did shift some centimeters, resulting in another lash. I looked up to the fairly high ceiling from which hung a number of chains over pulleys.

“Hands above your head!” The arms were raised high over the slave’s head. I imagined that Kevin was thinking I would bind his wrists in the chains, but instead I crept unseen to the chair by the wall on which Roy had placed his really heavy leather-harness.

I took it up as quietly as I could and sorted out the straps before tapping the slave’s ankle. “Pickup your foot!” I slipped the leg-strap under his foot and likewise with the other foot before pulling up the harness and securing the waistband tightly in place.

I pulled the shoulder straps over his shoulders and secured them tightly to the front of the harness. Two chest-straps were buckled encasing the naked body completely. From the shocked expression on the slave’s face I guessed this form of bondage had not been expected.

I pulled down two suspension chains and fastened them to the heavy waist-strap. I tapped Kevin’s arms and made him lower them to his sides. Placing his hands in front of him, I clamped his wrists in cuffs before pulling the chains. I could see Kevin try hard to keep his feet on the ground, but I did not slacken my grip on the pulley chain and eventually his feet swung back as his trunk fell forward with the pull of gravity. I locked the pulley chain and watched as the body bent double, slowly rotated first one way and then the other. I took a leg-stretcher and wedged the slave’s legs wide apart by means of the two leg irons at each end of the steel rod. I fastened the handcuffs to a ring on the center of the leg-bar so that the body was formed into a ring of flesh suspended from the ceiling.

I found some fearsome steel tit clamps connected by a heavy chain and grabbing the small nipples I forced the clips hard on the tender objects. Kevin winced and gave a loud sigh from the pain that spread through his frame.

After fumbling amongst an array of toys I took a solid leather parachute-formed cock- and ball-harness and a ball divider with a strong iron ring attached. I found a large weight and attached this to the ring below the ball-harness with a short length of chain looping it around to the chain between the nipples.

The pain was easy to see in the slave’s face. Tears formed in his eyes, but I soon diverted his mind from the agony in his balls and tits by thrashing his extended ass whilst verbally abusing the “lump of meat dangling from the butcher’s hook”. 

Judging from the tingle in my crotch I was enjoying the pleasure of putting our property through the tests.

Chapter seven

Seen from Kevin’s point of view

“What have I done to deserved this repeated beating my body was subjected to?” I thought as the waist-band of the harness in which John had secured me  dug into my flesh. I tried hard to keep my head up as the whip struck home on my ass and back.

Master John said nothing. I could hear his breathing as he exerted his full pressure on laying into my body mercilessly. So I wanted to plead for mercy, but I knew it was forbidden by my owner.

I fixed my gaze on one of the candles burning brightly just in front of me but the salty tears blurred my vision.

Gradually my head sank forward, and I saw the shadow of the weight dangling from my balls as it swung to and fro unaware of the pain it was causing in my gut.

Suddenly the beating stopped. Almost automatically I heard my self saying “Thank you, Sir!”

There was a sensation of fingers pushing cold cream into my anus and this was followed by something hard pressing against the rim. The pain increased steadily before one violent searing pain shot through me as I found myself plugged effectively by what must have been a fat dildo.

My gut felt as though it wanted to reject the intruder immediately, and I had difficulty in keeping the giant in place. My ass now being made more firm and rigid by the dildo forcing my cheeks apart, Master John took advantage and switched to a thin cane. The stinging grew as he kept up a rapid bastinado whipping. It seemed stupid and senseless to pretend bravery, but I held my breath and forced myself to withstand the incessant blows without giving the vent.

My assailant switched once more to the thongs which for a while at any rate seemed to be less painful to my nervous system. I raised my head once more and was staring into the flickering candle a few yards in front of me.

The blows began to strike the sides of my thighs and upper legs. Every so often a hand reached down and gave my weight a push sending it in a circle pulling my prick and then tearing the tit-clamps grip on my aching nipples. I suddenly sensed the futility of my bravery and felt my resistance subside.

My body shook with involuntary sobs and my vision was again blurred by tears running down my nose. My teacher was also aware of the change in me, and as if to speed up the inevitable, he increased the severity of the lashes. I must have let out a piercing yell. I felt my tension break and my body fall limp. The individual blows merged into a continuous agonizing pain and my head dangled helplessly from my shoulders as I screamed out for mercy. The punishment diminished in intensity as the strokes came more slowly.

“That’s better!” A voice said quietly as the last swish fell on my tattered brain. “Now you are mine! You will do anything I want without question, and you will know that you are nothing. Absolutely NOTHING!”

Silence fell. I tried to express my gratitude through the tears: “Thank you, Sir, thank you!”

That must have been the sound of genuine submission Master John had been waiting for.

I was released from suspension, and allowed to stand somewhat shakily on my own feet before being ordered to my knees to pay homage to the man who had beaten me into pulp.

I was made to lie on my back on the cold stone floor. As I gazed up to the ceiling I could see the flickering candlelight dance over the stone vault of this dungeon. Then I made out the figure of Master John looking down at me. My gaze moved down from his stern but manly face to his broad shoulders clad in a cream sweatshirt. Below this was naked flesh! Muscle-packed buns with a slight cover of short, dark hairs. His long, hard prick stood out shining in the candlelight. A hand was stroking it slowly above my head. His firm legs now stood astride my waist and on my hands on the floor beside my hips. They had to bear his body-weight.

As his hand began to rub his prick more firmly he muttered so as I could hear and take note of: “You turd! Scum, shit, nothing but a turd. What are you?”

I was made to affirm agreement by repeating that I was all those things. “You will wonder what has hit you when we are through with you.” John sneered. “We are going to make you work as you never have worked before. No respite! No mercy! No rest! Your body is going to ache from never-ending toil and you will only stop from exhaustion, and we will punish you for that too.”

The voice broke off and through heavy breathing came a shower of thick white cream splattering all over my face and chest. Master shook the last blob onto my nose and then stooped down.

“Mustn’t waste any of this glorious food!” He scooped up the droppings and pushed his fingers into my mouth commanding me to lick them clean. He traced every drop and fed me before kneeling over me and making me take his wet hot prick in my mouth to savor the sweat that dripped from his ball-sack and hairy crotch.

Quickly Mater swung himself round so that his ass was a few inches above my face. I stared into the dark crack densely grown with a fur of short hairs. John lowered himself smothering my face and making breathing difficult. With my hands pressed down by master’s feet I could do nothing to ease the pressing weight upward. His hairy crack spread open and encased my nose and my cheeks and my open mouth struggling for breath. The shit-hole was directly above it.

“Keep your fucking moth wide open!” I heard John’s command and then: “A little something for my lump of shit …”  I felt the Master heave and strain. Then the sphincter widened and made the tip of a brown, solid column appear. I was too weak to gag on the descending heavy brown rolls as they rushed into my throat. Not being able to see beyond the bulk of the man who was riding my mouth  I was unaware that my tits were being released from the gnawing clamps.. The pain of their release was far worse than the pain of being clamped in first.

I wanted to scream, but another helping of softer brown “nourishment” was pressing into my gullet and smothered my scream. The taste was bitter and acrid, but the stink was a horrible ordeal! Nevertheless, I swallowed as hard as I could but the food was now forming a queue to descend into my tummy. To make the problem even harder master must have picked up the heavy weight attached to my ball-harness and placed it in the middle of my belly. I felt him pick it up and drop it repeatedly all but knocking the breath out of me. John was a sadist!

Suddenly I felt my gut heave against the onrush of “food”. I spluttered and began to choke. It was a terrible feeling of embarrassment that swelled up in me as I found my mouth rejecting the last offering. I lay around my mouth mixed with a little vomit. I fought hard against my nausea and throwing up.

“You dirty sod!” Master yelled as he stood up and releasing my hands, “Use your paws! Don’t waste anything! This will be the only food you will get for a long period from now on.”

I had a flash back to the mess I got myself into the trunk of the car on the way down to this place. Master kicked me onto my hands and knees and made me lick the paws I had to rub in the spilled shit that had splattered onto my face.

“I have to punish you for that, boy,” Master said. My ass burned as the whip played heavy over my body.

I was then made to kneel up to have my face examined, and on being satisfied it was, Master turned and made me lick his dirty, hairy ass-crack out properly.

There was a pause before I felt a heavy collar being placed around my neck. It had spikes on the inside and was mad of iron. It clanked as the clasp was driven home locking the device tightly around my throat. My ankles and wrists were encased in a set of hobblers before I was led back into the room with the whipping table.

Master halted me giving me time to imagine I was to be violated in some way in here. But this was merely to frighten me into thinking of more punishment.

We resumed the journey up the stairs and through a door into the open air. Oh, what a release after that stink in the dungeon!

If I had not been aware of my nakedness before  I certainly was now in the open; I imagined hundreds of eyes watching my naked form crawl awkwardly over the concrete ground. I could feel the warm air playing on every inch of my hairless, exposed body. We approached a grassy area surrounded by white ranch-fencing.

My owner and his former slave Tony were waiting for us. Roy came forward and grabbed my collar from John.

“Come her, shit-eater!” I must have lapsed in concentration for the speed which I was dragged forward caused me to slip and fall over sideways. Before I had a chance to sort myself out John lashed out with his whip, and Roy pushed me onto my belly to ensure the thongs tore into my buttocks. “We will have less of that,” Roy demanded. “You are going to fucking well work, and work hard and properly here. Understand?”

“Yes. Sir!!”

Roy knotted a thick rope cord trough my collar-ring and threw the other end to Tony. “Fasten this to the stake, Tony!” Roy said.

With a kick from my owner’s boot I was ordered to my feet.

“Jump to it! Better be quicker than that if you want to spare your skin!” Roy shouted. “John, you go round that side, and Tony you go over there. Keep it running faster and faster and make sure it doesn’t let the rope slacken. Now, turd, Get moving!”

With that Roy lashed my ass and I was made to run in a circle around the stake-pole like a demented beast in a rampage and keeping the tethering rope at full stretch. As I passed each of my trainers I was whipped hard and told to run faster. After a dozen or so circuits I could feel my sluggish muscles begin to fail and it became hard and harder to keep up the pace without slackening. I obviously must have dropped speed frequently, for I was yelled at repeatedly and had my ass and legs lashed for it with fiery stripes.

“Okay, Tony, you first!” As I approached Tony he stepped forward and jumped up onto my back like a rodeo-rider. He settled high up towards my shoulders and clasped his legs firmly around my chest. This was so unexpected that I swerved allowing the tethering rope to slacken. Tony leaned back and swung his arm over his head. My thigh resounded to a cut from the riding crop he was holding. John and Roy encouraged Tony to “..drive the bastard into the ground … That’s it! Faster! …make the bastard gallop! Don’t show mercy with this beast!”  And the whip cracked loud on my sweaty skin.

“John, take the other end of this hurdle, please.” Roy asked him, “let’s put one here, and the other one on the opposite side of the circle. These will make the lazy animal jump!”

As I approached my Masters  I was confronted by a low fencing rail in my path. It had sharp pointed spikes along the top edge. I could not avoid the obstacle and had to heave myself and the load off the ground. How I cleared it – I don’t know! Round to the other side a similar hurdle was in my path. This time, I staggered and my foot caught the edge sending me sprawling. Tony had jumped clear in time.

“ I knew it, you shit, you fucking well failed in your duty, Idiot!” Roy ran over to where I lay and booted me hard in the rear. His toe pushed my butt-plug deeper in, causing me pain in the gut.

“On your feet, bastard!” I stumbled to a standing posture, panting and puffing like an old locomotive.

“John, can you bring me that gear in the red box over there, please?!” Roy shouted. John came over with his arms full of leather straps and what looked like chromium plated spurs. Indeed they were real spurs! I almost panicked! Without ceremony, Roy fitted a harness over my head similar to a horse’s tackle. I was stunned. A thin but rough gag-like bit was placed in my mouth and tied very tightly indeed in place. My mouth–lips were torn cruelly behind my molars.

Roy deliberately stood in front of me to fix the cruel-looking spurs to his boots, and took the last item from John which was a very elaborate leather saddle. This is affixed to the big rings on my suspension harness which I still wore. The whole assembly was completed with a short rein to the steel-bit.

“That should keep the cunt upright!” Roy murmured grinning.

Nonchalantly, Roy leapt into the saddle and gave me three cuts with his long quirt because I staggered unsteadily under his weight which was considerably greater than Tony’s.

“Gosh! You look great!” John exclaimed excitedly.

“I have some friends in Germany who have been racing human ponies for years, and have all their carting and draft work done by slave human horses,” Roy explained, “and they sold me this gear which is one of their more lenient ones. They use it for beginners. For better trained human ponies they use spiked bits and saddles nailed with sharp tiny nails on the underside connected to the slave’s skin over the small backs.” Roy laughed. “And if this turd here survives, it might end up on a farm over there in Germany!”

“Sir, Have you watched those slaves work over there in Germany?” Tony asked curiously.

“More than once, my fellow! In the summer these slaves are worked sixteen hours every day of the week, and gosh, they are grown strong like oxen! Only two of them have been able to haul a plow across a whole field!” answered Roy thoughtfully while mounting my saddle.

I felt droplets of blood trickle down my legs as Roy dug in with the spurs to get me on the move. My head rocked back under the tight rein and the bit dug cuttingly into my mouth-corners fiercely. Tears watered my eyes from pain.

The whip was thrashing me constantly as I went round and round trying hard not to let the tethering rope slacken. As soon as I swayed inwards  the rein was pulled hard over tearing my lips and forcing me outwards. So I could not evade the hurdles.

Gradually I began to flag. Not even the spurs nor the whip could increase my output, and I could hardly get my breath with all that harness around my head and chest. My legs felt like jelly, and I staggered oblivious of the welts and cuts covering my ass and thighs.

Eventually, Roy pulled me up and dismounted. I was about to have a sigh of relief, but instead, I received a sharp lash and was told to gallop on! The three Masters took their positions around the circle and lashed me round and round for another half-hour.

Near to unconsciousness, I was pulled up and unharnessed. I was panting for breath and desperately wanted to lie down and sink into deep sleep, but vaguely I heard my owner say:

“Tony, I think the turd is thirsty.”

Tony came forward and ordered me to my knees. His prick was already pointing in my direction as he approached. He grabbed my bald head by my ears and rammed his cock down my throat. A fierce stream of piss shot into my mouth. Yes, I was thirsty indeed, but trying to catch my breath I had great difficulty in keeping up with the incessant flow of golden liquor.

Then the other two took it in turns to add their contribution. I was ordered now onto my hands and knees.

“Tony, you can take the dog for a run now.” Roy attached a length of chain to my collar and handed it to Tony who immediately set off dragging my aching body behind him. I scrambled after him as we raced all around the paddock. I was taught to “Come to heel!”, “lie down!”, “come, beg!” and most humiliating “Bark!”

The bit I had worn as a pony was thrown forward for me to fetch and bring, and when I brought it to heel for the last time I could not keep upright on all fours any longer. I just fell utterly exhausted to the ground.

“Seems it doesn’t want to respond to the whip, John,” Roy commented sarcastically. “So take the chain off its collar and fix it to the balls. Maybe this will do the trick!”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” John answered as he grabbed the bondage he had put on my balls earlier for weight carrying. “I think I would prefer a broad ball-sack-stretcher of leather wrapper for this job.” John said, and Tony excitedly obliged by selecting a vicious looking instrument from the collection of equipment that had been put out in the paddock.

John put the chain under my belly and went out in front as I was kicked on to all fours. The agony of this harsh treatment almost made me faint. In fact I must have flaked out from the pain in my stretched balls, for when I came back to my wit I was lying flat on my back with my arm and ankles staked out at full stretch.

The sun was beating down on my sore and bruised body. Tony was standing over me looking down and smirking: “Dinner time, turd!” He placed a wooden block beneath my head forcing it up off the ground. He swung his leg over my body and I was made aware of the nature of my feeding when I saw his pink, round buttocks descend onto my mouth. To my horror he held a broad leather strap in his hand.

Hardly a moment later started the ordeal. His sphincter widened and trembled, and the brown, solid “nourishment” rushed into my mouth pressing my throat open forcefully. The fat turds came in such a incessant speed that I hardly could match with my swallowing. I tried to close my mouth to be able to chew the hard logs. But that was a mistake of mine.

Fiercely the leather strap fell down straight onto my bound balls. I yelled with pain and opened my mouth involuntarily. Tony scolded while going on to whip my balls. “Keep your mouth open, pig! And hurry up to wolf my helpings down, you ungrateful bastard or your balls will swell up like grapefruits!”

In panic and agony I forced my throat to swallow regardless of the size and the stink of the turds. Finally the flow of brown stuff ended. I was commanded to lick the spending-hole clean. At last Tony washed the remains of his shit in my mouth down with his piss.

Chapter eight

“Quite a busy morning, John.” Said Roy as he sat down at the dinner table. Tony had laid out the mid-day meal before returning to his “hobby” out there in the paddock.

“Very interesting,” replied John. “It took quite a lot of stick. Do you think you will make something useful out of it?”

“Undoubtedly,” replied Roy enthusiastically, helping himself to the mixed salad. “I am sure it is going to be a damned good thing for Tony. I always wanted to see that guy rise in stature to be one of us!”

“You said last night that you thought Tony too intelligent to be always at the receiving end of orders. Isn’t Kevin intelligent also?”

„Yes, he is, but there is a difference, John. I had a soft spot for Tony which has grown over the year he has been with me into a kind of real love, and I could not bring myself to see him trodden under foot. On the other hand, I am full of the thrill of seeing the Turd reduced to the status of an animal. Not vindictively, you understand, but rather as a symbol of what I can achieve in breaking down the barriers that guy is obviously going to demonstrate during the next few month. I want to experience if a man can be reduced to a mere animal obeying EVERY order –anyway how horrible and revolting it might be – without reluctance or showing his own will. It will be like one of those rodeos in Texas, where a wild horse – full of vigor, natural superiority and guile – is mounted and gradually worn down until it is tamed and giving in.”

Roy positively gloated at the thought of beating his slave into more than total submission. “You see, John, it is like watching an engine going out of control. Kevin is still full of the fantasy of being submissive, till yesterday it was just a game for him, just a role-play; but he wants always to be able to call the tune. He is a dangerous kind of slave – the bottom-man who can and will manipulate his Top given half a chance. I shall have to do some diabolic things to him before he eventually surrenders absolutely…”

“Oh I can see that, Roy, but what do you intend to do if Kevin keeps reluctant and refuse an order for example to eat dog-shit?” asked John, and Roy smirked: “If that happens, I have bought a cattle-prodder, and I cannot believe that Kevin will have his balls roasted alive instead of giving in and devouring the shit!”

“I must say seeing you in action was as exciting as anything I have experienced so far. Do count me in on your side, and I will be happy to assist in bringing that beast to heel. Your success is my success! God knows what the guy will be like when you have finished.”

“Probably it won’t be fit for anything better than keeping it locked away just as a spectacle. As I said this morning, I do have German friends who could use him regardless in whatever state he ends up in. I guess they have human ‘animals’ solely for breeding purpose, and when grown infertile they use them to moving an generator for electricity for 16 hours a day. I have seen those wracks –– some of them have been castrated –– toiling and sweating their guts out just to avoid the electric ‘stimulator’—ring encasing their ball-sacks or pricks and steel plugs in their rectums. Those were just beasts to be exploited up to their last once of energy.”

“How awful. But you mentioned ‘breeding’. What’s about that?” wondered John.

“Exactly what I say, John! I was over there last year and saw for myself. There was one ‘animal’. So toughened by outdoor work between the shafts that it had no knowledge left of its former existence, and just got on with its sole job in the fields. In winter time, it was chained to the treadmill-generator …” Roy paused considering and then continued, “ That reminds me .. Tony must see that our treadmill is put into use soon…  But what was your question? Oh yes, I see .. the breeding! This animal there was almost exhausted and worn out as a draft-horse, but it was milked trice daily and the sperm was sent deep-frozen to a secret breeding station run by a crazy female vet and some women as her helpers. In reverse, the breeding station delivered the “horse-farm’ with supplies of slaves. I don’t know exactly, but I believe the woman-vet was the ex-wife of the owner of this peculiar animal.”

“How old was that animal? Or rather, how long had it been like that?” asked John very interested.

“Seventeen or eighteen years, as far as I remember. Difficult to reckon due to his extremely heavy build, his broad chest and the countless weals and bruises on his athletic body. Only the face looked young. But the moist shocking attribute was dangling between his thighs! I have seen a lot of well hung man in my life, but the sight of the equipment of that bull-man made my eyes nearly pop out: The ‘animal’ had a pair of balls like a man’s fist each! His owner said, it is giving almost 100 cubic of sperm each day. It was milked trice a day.”

“GOD! I MUST see that!” exclaimed John stunned.

“You will, John. We’ll take a trip next year. Our ‘turd’ may be ready for them then …”

“So you intend to transfer it to Germany next year, Roy?”

“Only if I have had all the use I can press out of it. You see I am not worried about how tough I give it, it will be nothing compared what the Germans can extract from a naked slave.”

*     *

The two masters looked out of the large picture-window beside the dining table. It gave a view straight into the paddock. They saw Tony squatting over his victim.

“The turd is having its fill of Tony.” Roy chuckled. “You can almost see the idiot below writhing to escape.” John saw Tony incessantly whipping the balls of his figure squirming below his ass.

“Tony literally has to flog his ‘caviar’ into his slave’s gullet, “but he seems to succeed in this action,” John said wondering.

“Don’t worry, in a couple of days I bet it will be accepting it without any fuss.”

“I must say, I enjoyed that this morning in the cellar,” John said gleefully.

“I am going to put the rubber-sling up tonight in the cellar. The Turd can be enclosed in that, and sleep with some food and drink.” Roy announced.

“I think I would prefer to shit on it or rather in it, Roy,” John added. “or do you think otherwise?”

“Not at all! That’s fine with me. I want it to consume every bit of mine, so you can help fill the bag with Tony, if he hasn’t put it all in the guy now. Oh look, he is getting up!”

As Roy and John looked out, Tony was stroking Kevin’s belly with his whip and making him try to get up. But being at full stretch and tied to stakes, it was not so easy. As the pain increased in the slave’s crotch from the not so gentle whipping, Kevin managed to heave one ankle up pulling the stake out of the ground. Tony persisted without helping and as soon as both legs were free, Tony grabbed the ankles and pulled the body hard wrenching the arms from the soil. He twisted the slave over and stood up to administer some strokes to the already bright red buttocks.

“Good for Tony,” Roy said as he saw his property made to get on all fours and Tony strapping the saddle on its back. With a flick of the whip Tony rode his victim round and round the paddock lashing its ass and thigh.

“I have got a drawing from Germany of a cradle with wheels.” Roy said.

“And what was it for?” John asked.

“It I a platform of some twelve inches width that goes under the ‘pony’s chest to which the arms are strapped to poles the same length as the back-legs,” Wheels are fixed to these poles and the ‘pony’ propels itself and the rider from the back-legs.” Roy explained. “I gather the old hack in Germany was kept in this position for six month or more – almost continuously at one time. Finally it was unable to stand upright …!”

John gasped with astonishment. “That certainly something, a interesting method to ride on pregnant mares as well.” John said and added: “What do you want me to do this afternoon, Roy?”

“Use your imagination, John, anything you want as long as it is tough on the Shit and increases his endurance.” Roy replied.

“We will take the case of clothes and things out there, and will give Tony his share, and we can divide the other things. We will burn the rest out there in front of the former owner that will add to the “permanent” conditioning. I would like to “ring” him to-night, but that ought to be in the cellar I think,” Roy added.

“You mean implant rings?” John asked as he got up to accompany Roy outside.

“Yes. I want tethering rings and I want its ball-sack welded in a steel ring. So useful for handling its movements from a distance.” Roy announced.

Tony was just completing another circuit of the paddock as the two masters went through the gate. Roy was carrying the suitcase and John had collected the fire-basket.

“Hi! Tony!” Roy said. Tony pulled up his “steed” and got off the slave’s back. Roy commanded the slave to kneel. He stood and gazed at the object before probing a foot between its legs and ordering to spread them apart making the position for him harder to maintain.

Roy turned to Tony: “I promised you some of my slave’s clothes, didn’t I?” Roy opened the case, carefully watching Kevin’s expression. “This is a damned good suit, Tony. Test it if you want it when fitting.”

Tony reached out and examined Kevin’s best and most treasured attire. “It great! Thank you, Sir!”, he replied with genuine pleasure. Roy reached down and pulled out the jeans and leather jacket that he knew Kevin always wore in the pub. “Rubbish, this!” Roy said, “that is not you, is it?”

Tony looked at the garments and said: “Not really, Sir.”

”So burn them,” said Roy handing the garments to John. He placed them into the fire-basket. “This shit won’t have any use for any of these.” Roy tossed several assorted bits of clothing to John who stuffed them in the basket.

“What have we here?!” Roy exclaimed in mock surprise, “this is a beautiful watch! John, I would like you to have that.” Roy handed it to John who immediately put it on his wrist removing his own watch. He knew that his hands would be probing and torturing the unfortunate slave, and it would be good for the slave to see his own prize possession on someone else’s wrist and there was nothing he could do about it.

Roy took a bundle of papers. “Anything important here, John?”

“No, Roy, I have got the important papers in the car. Those are just letters and photos, I think.”

“Use them to light the fire, John.” Roy said as he tossed the bundle to John. Roy knew exactly the psychology of this little game, and delighted to see Kevin’s face drop as he realized the fatality of any hope for release into the big wide world.

Roy took out some shirts which Tony gazed at longingly. “Have those, lad. Anything else in here is yours.” Tony stooped down and fumbled through the remaining belongings; he found a pair of shoes and another jacket.

“There is plenty more stuff in the slave’s former flat, Tony. We will bring you his records and tapes, and you can have some of the furniture to fit out your own room.” Roy said as he pushed the lid down and told John to burn it all. John pushed some of the papers in the bottom of the fire-basket and stuck a match. Smoke slowly rose from the array of Kevin’s things.

Roy stood in front of the kneeling slave. “Right, Shit. There is work to be done, and YOU are fucking well going to do it. On your feet!!”

Kevin was soon harnessed up and had the rough bit rammed into his mouth. The tether was fitted to the bit, and Kevin was led out to the center-stake. He was put on a short tether and made to run in a circle only twelve feet diameter. Roy caught him with the whip on each revolution, making him go faster and faster until he became dizzy. Slowly he let out the rope making Kevin keep it taut. Tony had dashed back into the house to put his new possessions away and had returned to take up a position on the outside of the circle. He too added pressure with his whip. Smoke drifted across from the now blazing basket. Kevin passed the conflagration on each circuit and witnessed his belongings reduced to ashes.

Then he was made to go round on hands and feet, –– an awkward position at speed! After this exhausting ordeal, Kevin was halted ten minutes later. Roy gave him a series of rapid-fire commands like “stand!” – “sit!” – “Lie down!” and “on your belly!”. In this position he was made to wiggle over the grass under a constant barrage of whiplashes. Gasping exhaustion spread over the slave’s face as his Masters made him run on the spot, stand on one leg, do cartwheels, and crab-walk with his back nearest the ground. Kevin collapsed several times only to be thrashed back into action without a pause.

“That’s enough warm-up, John.” Roy announced. “Would you please put him to work in the garden? There is a spade round the back. He can dig it all over for a few hours. Make sure it doesn’t slack!”

“Okay, Roy, Leave it to me,” said John, as he untied Kevin from the stake and went towards a large plot of solid untilled soil behind the house. Roy called after John: “Have you got the weights?”

“They are in the cellar …” 

Roy sent Tony to fetch them and told him to rig up the treadmill while he was down there.

The evening saw Kevin digging furiously under the whip. Rivulets of sweat run down his naked body. His balls ached as the heavy weights bounced around knocking his shins and pulling on his sac as his movements lifted them off the ground.

Tony took over for a while as “Task-master” and Kevin soon realized the he was no less a merciless slave-driver than John.

Kevin was wishing hard for someone to say “ease off” or even “stop”, but it never came, and his back ached as it never had ached before. He had muscles he didn’t even know the do exist! He had to will himself to keep going, and gradually he lost all sense of reasoning knowing that he was here to work until he dropped, but dropping only would make his life even harder.

Roy came out: “You have had enough, John and Tony. Come in for a drink. Tony, put the Turd in its cage in the paddock for a few hours and then take it in and strap it to the treadmill.”

It was a sign of Kevin’s resignation that he did not register any horror at this suggestion that work still lay ahead of him.  Timidly but obediently he allowed himself to be led by Tony back into the paddock where a tiny steel cage stood near to the now smoldering remnants of his former life. Tony gave him a generous supply of fresh piss before stuffing the crisscross striped and sweating “carcass” into the narrow cage and fastening the door with a heavy padlock.

Kevin had to kneel with his head tucked between his bent arms and his knees pressed into his gut. The bars of the cage pressed his thighs and feet and head making his posture very uncomfortable. There he remained until after dark.

Chapter nine

Kevin’s narrating

As the light faded and dusk gave way to night, I crouched in my cage feeling both cold and dejected. How grateful I had been last night when the pain of the whip ceased and I was left bonded to the wrack in the cellar, aching from the burning massage after being shaved from head to toe. I had been used and abused all day without a break, and instead of relief I now felt lonely. It was as if I wanted the suffering to continue. Could it be that I was learning my true destiny already? I was still suffering in being enclosed in this tiny cage like a criminal.

I warmed to the word “criminal” and told myself that I was a criminal and wanted to be punished for it. Had Simon once shut me up in a cage in the middle of an open field I would have been frightened and felt I had lost control of my senses, but here I was almost wallowing in the knowledge that I was in the center of attraction to three Masters who cared for me and needed me. But was my suppose correct or a fatal error?

Contemplating about this, I realized that they needed my like a man needs a cold! I was soon to learn that I was just a tool to be used. A brief burst of flame from the basket outside reminded me that whatever the mental state of a slave could be, the fact that he had witnessed the destruction of his past made it all too clear that I would never have control again, and must accept my lot and make the most of it. This was no “game”!

The sight of a torch-light beam dancing on the grass froze my thoughts again, and although I knew that pain and anguish would be my companions as soon as the light reached the cage, I had a surge of elation and rejoining that once again I was wanted.

The torch shone into my face so I could not see the figure who carried it. The air was still. I waited for the padlock to clink open, but instead felt a stream of hot piss curl over my back and run in all directions.  I desperately wanted to move my head so that I could catch some of the humiliated shower, but my “prison” cage was too small even to permit the slightest movement.

The sound of a bunch of keys, a click and the cage gate opened to the ground indicated I was to be removed elsewhere. Once more I sensed a change in my outlook brought about by the situation. In the old days I would have been excited by the prospect of another “game” and would be sensually aroused in the hopes that this time it would result in my being “ridden” or made to suck my tormentor off as a climax to the evening’s entertainment. Now I just remained where I was to await an order. I was not interested who was ordering me or where I would be ordered to and for what purpose.

Was I becoming a “cabbage”?  I felt a stick prod my ass as I was told to “Move yourself!” A chain was attached to my collar and I was led on all fours back to the house and down the stone steps into the cellar. I shuffled past the “whipping table” which had been my bed the night before, and further into the inner chamber which was still lit by four or five candles, and on through another archway in the stone walls to a dark enclosure. There was an oppressive atmosphere around. It was fairly small and gave no clue as to its contents being totally black.

Tony – whom I recognized as my guardian from his voice in the paddock – got me to my feet. He pulled my arms backwards and upwards forcing my head forward. I felt a thick wooden beam across my back, and my wrists were tied together so that my arm were wrapped around the beam. The rope from my wrists hung down my back and nestled in the crack of my ass.

Tony’s hand groped between my thighs and took up the slack of the rope which he then fastened tightly to my ball-harness. I moaned from the strain on my balls. Tony had brought the weight that had tormented me on at least two occasions already. This soon dropped pulling my balls downwards toward my feet as much as the new attached rope would permit.

Yet more fear filled my breast as I felt fingers groping for my tits, followed by a searing pain as the cruel steel clamps bit into the soft flesh surrounding my nipples. I forgot all else about the possible purpose of my harness as I struggled to resist the pain that filled my whole body. Suddenly Tony’s hands had lost contact with my flesh. There was a longish pause before with a sudden flash of pain a whip struck my back.

“Giddy up!” Yelled Tony with a note of violence in his voice.

I stepped forward one pace, but the beam through my taut arms, pressing into my back, refused to come with me at first. Another crack of the whip forced me to push my other leg forward. With a noise that sounded like stone scraping against stone, the beam to which I was attached so firmly began to move. Almost pushing my other leg forward.

Slowly it dawned to me that I was walking in a tight circle. In this darkness I couldn’t see where I was plodding to. I was led by the beam behind my back. Unquestioning I plodded round to complete one revolution which was marked by another lash and the command to “get a move on!”

My feet could now feel the ridges which formed the “tread” I was to take for the next three hours. The grinding of stone on stone intensified as I made slow but steady progress encouraged by Tony’ insistent thongs.

Within minutes of commencing my task the calves of my legs began to throb, and my back already torn by the bending over the garden spade protested painfully. My ball-weight began to swing rhythmically tearing at my genitals. Occasionally it banged on the stone flooring jerking my balls inside their bondage.

I had just become accustomed to the hardship when I was halted whilst Tony groped for the chain from which the big weight was suspended. I heard the click of another chain being attached to the weight and I let out a scream as the other end of this chain was connected to the chain joining the two tit-clamps.

“We will have less of that!” ordered Tony. “You don’t know what suffering is yet, Boy!” He laughed and let me have another lash before me sending off round and round again.

My groaning and moaning simply infused more power into the whipping and gave Tony an excuse to verbally abuse his charge.

“Leave it, Tony! It wont dare stop now.” Called a voice from the inner chamber. It was my Owner. “Come here and give us a hand.” My concentration on the task was such that I did not mentally contemplate what other diabolic exercise was being prepared for me. I knew I just had to obey and keep the wheel turning relentlessly, even without supervision.

*    *

After an hour or so, I think I slowed down. I just knew I could not go further. My legs felt like made of lead. I must have slumped forward like drunken, only held up by the beam which my arms were attached to. My feet seemed to have no sense of direction. I think I heard someone say: “He’s had enough, release it!”

I found myself in a heap on the floor with my gasping wide-open mouth resting on a soft leather boot. “Come on, Turd. You will have to better than that tomorrow.” It was John’s voice. I managed to gather my strength again as I was pulled roughly into the inner chamber and beyond into the room I feared most so far.

“Get it on the table,” Roy said. Tony and John grabbed my aching shoulders and pulled me up backwards over the wooden laths that formed the surface of my resting place. I am sure I could not have managed it on my own. I felt grateful to my masters.

I lay on my back staring up at the naked light-bulb overhead. I could just see in the glare three heads looking down at me. Hands were unraveling the soggy wet bondage around my prick and balls, as other hands pulled the clamps from my tits. My eyes filled with tears and I could not help let out another scream.

“Scream as much as you like, Bastard. No one can hear you and come to your aid,” said Roy. That was the last direct conversation to me.

The three Masters began a discussion among themselves which did more to penetrate my subconscious than any of the physical abuse I had already gone through.

“Which of these shall we fit?” John asked as he threw a bundle of cold steel objects on my belly.

“That one for sure,” Roy said. “I am going to weld a ring below the prick. The widest I have. I want those balls pulled right down so that they can be stuffed up its ass if needs be.” Roy commented.

Tony asked: “What’s about the prick? Should we not weld it into this upstanding position?” I felt fingers pull my limp cock up towards my belly and press it into my flesh.

“No, Tony, there will be other uses for it.  There will be a dainty ring in the foreskin of the glans, so that we can tie it up and out of the way. This way the balls are better accessible, and besides the Slave is unable to masturbate and dump his sperm. Or …”

John interrupted: “If you implant a ring in the navel, you can tie it up to that. Give the Shit a way he can wish himself.” The men laughed …

It wasn’t ME, Kevin, they were discussing about; it was just a body, my BODY. I as a person was non-existent. I was now a mere hunk of flesh to be incorporated into my owner’s box. I just lay there not even participating or being participated in. I allowed someone to grab my legs and force them wide apart. A hand groped about a little pile of objects resting on my belly and selected one. I felt my balls being painfully forced through a hole being too small for an easy passage of one ball only, but by force you can achieve such an ordeal though, and the pain of it was of no concern to my owner. Even the second ball was pressed through! My yells were ‘unheard’ by them.

“That’s right, John, push the ring hard towards the base of its prick. It has to be stay solid around the root of its balls even if you tear hard on it. I think we should get another two around the scrotum base to extend the skin of it sac. We can add more later perhaps.”

I had to endure another two rings there. They fit painfully tight around the base of my sac.

Tony joked: “I don’t know about stuffing its ass with these fat nuts; at this rate they will be stretched long enough to go into his mouth when bowing his torso down.” There was a general amusement over this point.

“I wondered first if I wanted the prick circumcised,” Roy  contemplated, “I think though it will be preferable to leave that now. I will think about it later.” He assured himself.

Of course, I had squirmed as John has forced first one ball and then the other into the hole of the third ring. A hand was raised and came down sharply on my upper thigh. “Keep still, beast!” At last I was recognized as being present in this operation. But the conversation went on with total disregard of anything more than a tortured lump of meat on the slab.

“Push harder, John, these balls MUST go through – I’m sure!” Roy encouraged John who carefully handled my tender balls. But I was sure, they would not fit through, nevertheless they proved me wrong. My pain was only on my side.

Meanwhile someone was already rubbing spirit into my navel. “Where is the bleeding punch?” Roy called out. It was Tony perhaps who found the tool and handed it to Roy.

“Thanks.” I felt my flesh yield as a hole was made in the wall of my belly-button. I felt steel pass through it. There was a “plop” as something big and round fell onto my belly. Fingers next clasped my prick and pulled it out straight as far as it would go.

“Fucking miserable object!” Tony laughingly said.

“Not when I have finished with it, Tony!” Roy chipped in.

“Pull the foreskin back,” Tony was asked to do, “the Turd has gotten excited!” John said as Tony revealed tiny blobs of cum encircling the glans. Once this was my most secret and private member –– now it was a mere plaything being tossed around by three pairs of hands. Tony began to gently rub my prick back and forth. There was an immediate response …

“Fucking little turd is still sexually potent,” Tony remarked.

“Not much use for a slave, Tony ..,” Roy hesitated before continuing: “..except for providing it with custard. By the way, have you prepared its meal?”

“Yes, Sir!” Tony replied.

Did you put those three tablets in  I left by the oats?”

“Yes, Sir. What are they for?”

“They will clean its bowels out tonight thoroughly. You have got the bag ready? Don’t open it out in the morning. I‘ll flush it out first.” Roy said.

I would have had plenty to contemplate had I been my old self, but already subjugated and humiliated I just did not assume it was anything to do with me. Roy personally undertook the operation on my cock, and within minutes a ring was attached permanently in my foreskin and taking the Frenulum within.

The next point of interest lay beneath me. My legs were pulled up high over my head and my ankles tied with ropes to my wrist restraints.

“Someone has been marking my property today!” Roy said jokingly. And Tony answered the question: “Will you show me how to treat these crust I made?”

“Of course, Tony. Use plenty of alcohol to keep them clean, that’s all. Nothing to worry about! The whip will harden the buttocks fast enough, and you will just have to use more force to penetrate as time goes on.” This too they all considered worthy of laughter.

“John, hold this! I will need a larger punch.” Roy reached over and picked up a fearsome piece of equipment which I caught sight of as he lifted it. My eyes grew wide with horror.

“Hold it tight, lads!!” I heard his order. It was as well both Masters leaned heavily on me, for the pain that accompanied a huge hole being pierced in the soft flesh through the perineum – that is the part between my ass-hole and ball-sack – sent a shockwave through me which all but lifted me from the table!

“Oh my God! That is as big as a bull’s nose-ring!!” Tony exclaimed.

“”Yes, like a fucking door-knocker,” added John with surprise.

“My German friend’s pony has an even bigger one in its nose!” Roy observed. “I wont ring this one unless we do want to use it  as a draft horse like those poor grafting animals in Germany. Time enough to think about a nose-ring when we are ready,” he said, “and if this lump of shit one day will end up at my friend’s farm there, it will be ringed anew with real sturdy rings and handle-bars!”

My legs were untied and allowed to flop back down on the bench.

"I think that will do for tonight," Roy said with a sigh of relief. "Have you got any nourishment, John?"

"Yes, but I think I will put that in the bag later on, okay?"

"Fine! Tony, get me that funnel and pipe from over there, and bring the supper in." said Roy. He fondled my newly implanted rings before pushing his hands beneath my buttocks. "A bit cold they are, John. Suggest you warm them up after supper ...!"

"Willingly!" John answered enthusiastically.

Roy took from Tony a large white funnel that to me resembled a small toilet-basin. To this was attached a wide, flexible pipe about close to 3 inches (~ 7 cm) diameter. He leaned forward and probed my mouth as wide apart as he could. "Oh, I fear we will need the clamp, John, ..--.. yes, that one will fit!" John handed Roy something silver and shiny.

It was an oval formed steel-clamp which Roy harshly and with force inserted into my mouth. It was a luck that my dentures were out.

There was a small screw at the gadget's angle which Roy turned vigorously.

The special instrument wedged my mouth open and the clamp extended my jaws apart painfully. I thought my jaw-joints would be dislocated! But to my shock I could not exclaim a word telling my pain, just a hissing sound like a wildcat left my throat.

"Who is working so hard as you have done today, should be rewarded by a good meal of excellent food, shouldn't it?" laughed Roy preparing my meal in the bucket beside my table.

"We wont waste one drop of this, wont we? Pigs would turn their noses up at it , but this Turd is going to enjoy it eagerly ... and what follows .. even more!"

Roy chuckled as he pushed the pipe deep into my mouth through the open steel clamp. Then Roy screwed the clamp a little bit together so my lips were relaxed a bit and closed around the pipe like a clued seal.

The funnel was supported by three sturdy legs which rested on the table between my thighs and either side of my hips. To my horror, Roy tipped the sloppy mixture into the bowl and immediately it reached my mouth through the pipe.

Oh my God! It tasted sour and positively revolting, but there was nothing I could do about it. Even pressing my tongue towards the orifice of the pipe had no effect. It came in a never ending stream causing me to gulp for air as it slid like a kind of slime down my throat into my gullet. I felt like a sewer.

John said: "Now you know what to do with the food our pigs in the sty refuse to eat, Lads."

"Exactly!" agreed Roy as he scraped the last dregs from the bowl into the funnel. Roy then removed the pipe, but not the clamp in my mouth. He examined to ensure that none of the foul mixture was left clinging to the inside. Tony released my arms, and John pulled me off the table feet first. I was made to lie on my back on the cold floor. A foreboding filled me when I saw Ray preparing himself.

"I will use the bowl, John, "Roy announced. John took the pipe and pushed it into my mouth-spreader. He put the bowl on its tripod directly over my shaven-bald  head. Without hesitation lowered his jeans down and got prepared to sit down on the "basin". For a short moment I could get a glimpse of Roy's bomb-like bulging sack and his hairy ass-crack. Then he was seated down onto the basin. The word around me went dark, but hot and sticky.

At first the head of Roy's massive prick entered my mouth and let go a stream of hot piss flushing all remnants of the pig-swill away from my gums. Then he withdraw his prick off and moved his abdomen a bit forward. I knew what was hanging directly over my mouth ...

His anus expanded quickly. The tip of my tongue sensed a incredibly fat, solid and warm log coming down into my forced-open mouth. It grew longer and longer and I hurried to squash it with my tongue into gulp-able pieces. With all my willpower I wolfed the bitter masses down my gullet.

My Owner emptied himself of all the marvelous food he had eaten during the day. And believe it or not -- it was almost better to taste his “glorious nourishment” after the ardor of the "official" meal consisting of pig-swill. I swallowed as fast as I could to keep up with the speed of his delivery. Nevertheless, Roy encouraged my gulping by some lashes of his thong-whip onto my ringed ball-sack. Oh My God, how much the whip hurt! But I could not scream because I was heavily engaged with my gobbling down so fast.

When Roy had finished, he stood up and removed the pan and pipe and released the tension on the mouth clamp before pulling it brusquely out of my mouth. I was then made to kneel beside the table and lick my Owner's ass-crack clean. John "helped" me with his short whip onto my back to clean the hairy ass-hole spotless! At last, I had to worship and kiss his feet. I murmured my “Thank you, Sir!” not wanting to risk another whip-lash.

"Okay, John and Tony. It is all yours. Hand the beast to Tony. He shall take it outside and you, John, can join him in perfuming the bag. See you later!"

“On your feet, slave!” John commanded. Then he pressed me forward over the table as I stood at its side. He hesitated for a moment, and he decided that bondage probably would be needed as he felt particularly keen to use a lot of weight. I remembered to thank him for punishing me at the end of a painful delivery. Not having given my immediate future any thought –– just as my owner had intended –– , I was surprised when we went through the door into the open air.

“Over here, John.” Tony called out from the paddock direction.

John had allowed me to walk upright from the cellar, and he made no attempt to get me on all fours as we went into the field and across to the fence on the far side. Tony shone his torch on a spot in front of me. It was a long stone-trough – the kind horses and cattle feed from. The torchlight reflected from a black lining to the trough.

John slapped my buttocks: “Get in, pig!”

I stepped into the slippery rubber lining. The trough stood about three feet from the ground. I lay back and slid down full length.

“Do we tie it up, John?” asked Tony.

“Just wrists and feet. We want it on its back.”

I could feel myself assist my captors by raising my feet together to have them tightly clamped in irons. My wrists were put into cuffs and stretched above my head. Tony pulled a zip along the edges of the rubber bag and it closed fairly tightly around my body up to my navel.

Tony was the first to clamber up onto the trough and sit astride the opening. He was facing me and holding his prick in his right hand directed a torrent of warm piss over my chest and face.

I suddenly felt a warm patch grow beneath where I was sitting. One turd slid down the side of my belly and nestled neatly at my waist. Another one dropped the other side, a third and fourth remained on my belly as the now “proven” Master leapt clear.

John poured scorn and his piss on my body paying particular attention to spray Tony’s offering off. He the sat astride the trough with his buttocks directly over my face.

“Keep your mouth shut! You can eat later!” he demanded.

A marked sign of my conditioning was  that this method was far more embarrassing and unpleasant than taking “food” directly. I felt like heaving my guts up, but managed to hold myself in check long enough for John to dismount and zip up the bag to the tip of my up-stretched and handcuffed arms.

*    *

My second night’s ordeal had begun. At first the cold night played on the rubber bag making me shiver, but as the air inside heated up with my body temperature and the aroma grew more and more unpleasant, I became warm and then hot and finally almost suffocating.

I found breathing through my nose hard, and so I opened my mouth to take in a gulp of heavily polluted air, forgetting that one of John’s offerings lay across my closed lips. It slid inside and I was not ready for it. Needing air I swallowed quickly, but my stomach revolted and sent a cascade of pigswill mixed with the creamy brown substance skyward. It rebounded from the closed rubber bag and lay on and around me.

I began to piss uncontrollably, and though I tried hard to keep my last once of pride, my legs were soon engulfed in my own filth which seemed to spout out continuously. I felt myself surrender totally to my degradation. I knew all fight had gone. I was a slave now and a pretty vile one at that.

I admit to a deserved life of punishments and forced labor and had to work my guts out to repay the word and my owner for my misdeeds. I had to fulfill my Owner’s every command. And if he had pleasure to use me as his personal toilet, I had to serve as one.

Eventually I fell asleep or I simply passed out. My ordeal ended as the zip was unfastened a few inches and a hose pipe emerged into the mire that surrounded me. Cold water began to flow until I was virtually submerged.

I suppose it was morning, but the zip was again shut after the withdraw of the hosepipe. I could hear water dripping on the ground below, and the level gradually lowered within the bag. I could also feel the sun blazing down on the black rubber  building up the temperature.

After another hour, the zip opened and the pipe re-emerged. Water poured in. Again the pipe was withdrawn and the zip closed. At least the zip was pulled right back and I saw my Owner, whip in hand, standing and observing the result of his tuition. I lay still admiring the powerful, manly figure of this man. yes, I was his property, his pig, his toilet. My former world was forgotten. I had successfully broken in – like the bronco in a rodeo. Tony joined to the side of his Master Roy who told him:

“Tony I have to leave now for my work in the city. I want you to make my pig toil on the treadmill twice every day for three hours each After that, chain the pig up in the pig-sty I have prepared for it. Tether it by a chain to its ball rings so short that it can even just reach the swill-trough with its skull. See to it that it eats up whole the swill you offer to it. Shave its body on a regular basis until I’ll come back next weekend. On my return I want my pig to be prepared below the toilet-basin under the tripod. You may use its mouth as well, of course.”

My owner disappeared without another word spoken to me.

I missed my owner every minute when toiling under Tony’s harsh whip. But my body is growing strong like a bull.

The end