Date: Mon, 29 Feb 2016 18:00:51 +0000
From: rthrhmmn@gmail.com
Subject: Boss's Ranch Part 1

			     A Day in the Life

			      By RotherhamMan

I woke to the feeling of a mouth on my cock. That's always a nice way to
wake up.

The mouth went up and down along its length, deep throating it nicely to
say it was quite new to the taste of cock. It had taken it's first one only
a month ago but had had many since. Mine was nine inchs hard and thick as a
beer can, not an easy thing to swallow.

I stretched out under the sheets and put my hands behind my head. If the
mouth was good I wouldn't need to use them on it's head for 'guidance'.

There were no hands touching my cock, that was good. A blowjob was meant to
be all mouth.

"Use your tongue." I said, and the mouth obeyed.

All in all, it was a promising mouth.

After about five minutes I deemed it time to get up.

"You've got a minute to make me cum."

The mouth panicked and doubled its effort.

It's a little known fact that most guys can't cum first thing in the
morning, it's a biological thing. I am no different, so it'd be quite
surprising if I did cum. The mouth didn't know that it had no chance of
getting me off in time.

The minute passed and I pulled the mouth off me with an exaggerated sigh of
disappointment. "Not good enough. On your knees, head back, mouth open."

The slave scrambled, ungracefully, into the position. I slid my cock into
its mouth and sighed as I let loose my morning piss. The mouth was new to
this too and dribbled it down the sides. I saw a few drops land on the
floor. When I was done I pointed to them and it lapped them up.

With nothing else for it to do I gave it a hard slap, partially for
punishment but mostly because I could, and pointed it out. It knew to go
back to the stable, it had nowhere else to go.

I continued my morning routine. I made my own breakfast and ate it while
surfing the news on my tablet. No news that pertained to my
operation. Good.

Once dressed in my jeans and boots but nothing else I stepped out into the
sun and surveyed my business.

It was all mine, raised from the ground up. In the centre of a large piece
of land only a select few knew the true purpose of I had built my
empire. Every empire needs slaves to build it and that was what I had built
mine on.

To the left of my little shack there were stables capable of housing 20
slaves-in-training and just as many trainers, the lion's share of space was
devoted to the trainers of course. The rest of the space was mostly a
training field.

A the moment there were 15 slaves being trained and 10 trainers, not
including myself. The slaves were currently feeding on the gruel in the
troughs laid out for them under the watchful eye of the trainers, making
sure none of them used their hands. They were all naked and tanned bronze
all over by near constant exposure to the sun. Their bodies had, on their
arrival, been at different levels of fitness but they were all soon
hammered into fitness. The gruel they were currently eating tasted horrible
but was highly nutritious, good for building muscle and reducing body fat
while giving the body the nutrients and energy it needed. Plus it was
cheap. My trainers and I would never touch it.

The effects however were undeniable, all of them were lean and had bulked
up noticeably since their arrival. The fittest was quite the specimen, 144,
and was ripe for selling at the next auction. His physique and
unquestioning obedience would fetch a high price.

They all had a number branded on their left pectoral of their number. It
was their only identity now their names had been stripped from them.

The only thing any of the slaves had on them was a metal cocking that was
ratcheted shut so it could never be removed safely. They were specially
made and contained a tracker and shocking device that every trainer had a
trigger for. They often couldn't be bothered to remember the settings to
shock only one slave and 'accidentally' ended up shocking them all
together. There were also boundary sensors burred around the ranch. New
slaves sometimes tried to make a break for it and they were allowed
to. When passed out of range they would feel the full force of the ring and
would come crawling back.

I strolled over, nodding in morning to the trainers. They were all fit and
masochistic, the only two real job requirements. I had chosen them
specially and recruited them personally. They had all come to me wide eyed
at the prospect of getting paid for having sex and giving fags what they
had coming. I loathed all of them. If the slaves were fags for being forced
to suck cocks then the trainers were fags too for wanting guys on their
cocks. But they did their job well enough, if they didn't they would be let
go.

They stood in their uniform of large boots and leather trousers with a
leather harness over their chests. An odd dress code but one that helped
them get into the dominant mindset.

Jamie, my second in command, a burly twenty something quarterback from
America, greeted me with a smile. I was in the process of training him as
my prodigy. He would do well, once he got over his ego and started thinking
more down to Earth. Like the others he was finely built and one day could
rival myself. He had the looks of a jock and had his short hair stuck up in
a modern style.

"Have a good night?"

I knew my answer would decide how the slave's day went. At the end of every
day I chose a slave that had aught my attention, for whatever reason, and
took it to my quarters for the night for testing. I would either take
pleasure in a slave well trained or give it a personal lesson in pain.

Last night 155 had shown that it was coming along nicely but I was not
overly impressed.

"Passable, for now. It needs some more attention."

Knowing that the slave's training reflected badly on the trainers they all
looked at 155 and it obviously shrank in on itself. It would be trying
harder in future, they would make sure.

I did my morning stretches and saw the trainers and slaves mimic my
movements. The slaves had to be kept in good shape, sometimes even put into
it in the first place, and the trainers had to be fitter. I, of course, had
to keep my place as the Alpha male of the camp and that alone was enough to
drive me to the limit in my exercises for the body of a beast to keep them
all in line.

My body was strong enough to keep any slave, and trainer, in line by sheer
presence alone. It was built by ranch work (on a regular ranch) and kept by
a private gym attached to my cabin (there was another for slaves and
trainers). 6'' of hard angles and strong curves and was made to dominate
bulking out a over a foot thick and 25'' wide at the shoulders. I too was
tanned but not as much as the slaves as I spent most of the day in the
shade. I was blessed with a rugged looking face to match my body, a wide
and hard angled jaw with just the right amount of stubble and short hair
that grew in tight curls.

Each morning began with a run. I would take the lead with Jamie just behind
me. The slaves would follow with the trainers taking up the rear. The
incentive was simple: Keep pace with me or a trainer will get you and you
will be trained by them for the day, with Jamie taking up any spare
numbers. Any slave still running by the time I decide to stop get's my
special attention for the day, but that's never happened. The first to get
caught is the urinal for the morning.

Jamie would always keep pace with me, eager to please and impress me. He
has a serious case of hero worship. I think it's cute. His body would be
shaking and sweating buckets by the time we stop, but his face would be
satisfied at keeping the pace and a nod of respect would make his day.

Today they were all caught within 45 minutes. 144, the longest resident of
the camp, had been drilled into the best shape of it's miserable life and
the newest, 159, (having been there for two months) was the first caught. I
watched the trainers drag its sagging and pathetic form to the corner of
the barn, the one that was always in the sun, and restrain him with a
spider gag stretching it's mouth to the limit. It had proven it still
needed it. It had been the urinal almost every day since it had arrived and
I was getting worried it wasn't getting enough attention. I pointed this
out to a panting Jamie and he promised he'd get on it.

I was drenched in sweat and grabbed one of the slaves Jamie would be taking
care of and dragged it into the shade with an order for it to lick the
sweat off my upper body. The other trainers liked to do this too and by the
time nine o'clock rolled around (I was careful to keep all forms of
measuring time away from the slaves, they didn't need to know) the men were
all clean.

I kicked the slave back to Jamie and walked over to the urinal. Not only
did I need another piss but it was time I gave it a talking to.

It had been a streetwise tough-kid from a council estate in a former
life. It had grown up into a lean body and a harsh attitude with a foul
mouth that had made it notorious in it's neighborhood. It would be missed
but only for a short time and even then those who notice would be glad. It
had a long face with freckles and big ears on the sides and a sandy fuzz on
top. All the slaves were shaved on arrival. In the time since it's arrival
it's body had bee forcibly bulked up by it's training and diet, It was now
in the shape of it's life and would have ruled it's estate if it could have
returned.

I stood over it, blocking out the sunlight, and looked it in the eye as I
let lose my cock. On the first day it had been the urinal it had,
predictably, put up a fight that it couldn't have ever won. The trainers
had used little brute force, just one long shock of the ring (set for all
the slaves by 'mistake') and it had been unable to put up much more of a
fight. It had been forced into the restraints, and told it could swallow or
be made to swallow. It was a sort-of motto on the ranch 'the easy way is
good but the hard way is fun', only the trainers and myself used it or
appreciated it.

159 hadn't swallowed, hadn't even opened it's mouth, so the trainers had
their fun. There was a special funnel gag that, like most of the equipment
on the ranch, was specially made. It was all made out of transparent
plastic so the piss could clearly be seen flowing and the tube went
straight down the throat so the wearer couldn't refuse. The funnel had been
fitted and 159 had worn it every day it had been urinal for the first month
before it would swallow, but we kept the spider gag on to be sure. It was
tied securely in a kneeling position with its head tilted back. It's body
was tanned thoroughly by the use of a few ropes as possible and regular re
positioning of it's body, It would be getting sunburn if it kept this up.

I let lose my stream and was sure to get as much as I could in it's mouth.

"You know, I'm starting to think you like drinking piss."

It's eyes were full of hate for me. It made me feel alive.

"One of two thing happen to slaves who won't learn. You could get sold to
someone who'll get of on your defiance. I know a guy who runs a piss-house,
guys go there just to piss in the mouths of slaves like you. He really
makes a show of it, it's actually quite impressive. He always needs
urinals."

I was finished and lowered my flaccid cock for it to lick off the drips. It
did so after a moment of defiance. This one might not break.

"The other option is the House of Pain. I've sent slaves there before, the
ones who, sadly, just couldn't accept their new lives. The House is a place
for the rich to come and... hurt people. The slaves, to be specific. Some
guys don't want to own a slave 24/7 and other's don't want to fuck. They
come to the house and hurt slaves like you."

I was starting to see the fear now. It looked divine.

"It's appalling, even by my standards. The slaves are kept in troughs built
into the floor with bars across the top. Just like a coffin. They're not
taken out to piss or shit, they're in there whenever they're not in use,
but some are kept in good shape. I hear most of them go insane."

The tongue was licking away at me furiously now. That was much better
behavior. I put myself away.

"I wont tell you which one you're going to. I'll tie you up nice and tight
and pack you in a crate and you won't know until you come out and are
greeted by..."

I spat in it's mouth. "Accept your new life. Your old one is dead. Will you
join it?"

I turned to return to my cabin and saw all the trainers and slaves alike
staring at me, having heard every word.

"The same goes for all of you!"

I went to my chair and table by my cabin. I had my jobs to take care
of. ranches don't take care of themselves, this one was no different.

My day to day business was mostly admin and keeping the trainers in line,
sometimes they went too far. There wouldn't be any buyers coming for a few
weeks and the accounts were done for this week, so my attention turned to
the list of potential slaves.

Every day I had I.T. men trawling through the internet for studs and
potential slaves who could be captured for our stock. The best way to find
them was, surprisingly, selfies. Muscle freaks and gym rats would take
pictures of themselves all the time, it was simply a matter of finding one
you liked and using facial recognition to identify them and assess, through
hacking and occasionally surveillance, whether they were suitable for the
ranch.

Today I had a list of 21 men deemed suitable for 'recruitment'. I went on
looks at first, scrolling down the pictures, seeing which caught my eye.

One did leap out at me. He was unusually muscled, more so than any slave
we'd had before, almost as much as any of the trainers. I wondered what the
I.T. guys were thinking recommending this guy but then I saw the guy's
stats.

     Dean Williams, 23, 6''2'

     Straight

     Weight unknown

     No family

     Unemployed

     One roommate, not close. Negligible intelligence. Ambitions to be a
bodybuilder, regular gym-goer.

Classic himbo. The picture showed him posing for a selfie in front of a gym
mirror as he stuck a muscle pose, a few tattoos ringed his arms on the
biceps making them look even bigger, in shorts and a vest that was
deliberately a size too small. In classic American himbo style he had a
backwards cap on and was pulling a facial expression that involved winking
and sticking the tongue out. A guy like that is just begging to get used by
a guy like me.

He would have to be convinced, and if the report was to be believed that
wouldn't be too difficult, that a bodybuilder agent had spotted him and
wanted to sign him in another state. He'd fall for it, there was little
doubt. He leaves and a while later the roommate gets a message that he will
be staying there and to box up his stuff. It could easily work.

I might do it in person, I have the body, age, and skill for convincing him
but I'm was loathe to leave the ranch, even in Jamie's hands. Taming the
stud would be tricky, I might have to do that personally too. He would
think on it.

I passed over it, for now. All the others were quite routine; young, fit,
few personal attachments.

But then there was one at the bottom that wasn't routine.

     Russell Turner, 26, 6''1'

     Straight

     Weight unknown

     Two brothers, estranged

     Unemployed

     Two roommates, not close. Former convict - 5 years for rape - released
last month.

The picture was of a not-very impressive young buck stepping out of a
prison bus. Prison muscles and tattoos just visible under his shirt. Long
hair that was clearly not looked after and a beard to match. There was no
way I would have this guy on the ranch. What were the tech guys thinking?

But then I saw the beneath was written 'Ask Troy' in pen.

Troy was one of the trainers who had given me some trouble over the three
years he had been on the ranch. Like all the others he got off on the power
he had, that was part of the job description, but he took it a little too
far. He really did see the slaves as objects for him to use and abuse. He
was a cocky little punk and I liked him a lot less than the other trainers
and only a little more than the slaves. He thought he was hot shit and
looked like it too. As impressive as his looks were, in a folk-rock kind of
way, Jamie would have taken him down with no trouble despite his muscles
because he did not know how to use them. And Jamie was far bigger.

Troy wasn't his real name. All the trainers went by code names, only I knew
their real identities. I was Boss, Jamie was Lieutenant.

I looked up to the training field. The naked slaves were all being put
through their paces by their trainers, Jamie handling all five of his with
ease. Troy was riding his slave like a horse, it even had a mouth bit and
reigns with a horsetail but plug inserted. I barked for Troy to come over
and watched him ride his slave over. He had it move to opposite me and
stayed sat on it's back. He made it look trivial and casual. He was a born
sadistic.

I held out the profile to him. "What's this?"

Troy had the decency to look a little guilty. "He raped my sister." He said
simply.

"This is not an operation for revenge. This man is close to you, you would
be a suspect, even if you have been away for three years and he's served
his time."

"But this guy deserves it!" Troy was getting angry quickly, another bad
trait. "He raped her and laughed about it! He's scum and deserves to be
here!"

I kept my calm. I had to, it's what a boss does, and this runt was not
going to challenge me as an Alpha.

"I'll think on it," I said, truthfully. "Maybe there's a buyer for scum."

Troy looked smug, like the very knowledge of Russell's impending fate was
satisfying, and went back to work, riding the slave back to the field.

I sat back in my chair. I did actually know a few buyers who would snap up
Russell, trained or not, but one leaped to mind. Checking that no one was
close enough to hear I pulled out my phone and made a call.

Mr. Young, I didn't know his first name, was a successful businessman who
could afford many slaves. He had bought 8 from me already and wanted
more. I wondered what he did with them, I never got any of them back (not
that I wanted them but we get the occasional return after use), but I
didn't really care so long as he paid and kept his mouth shut.

He was 32 and handsome enough to have any man he wanted but was straight to
the public eye and wanted his homosexual exploits kept in private. Every
time I had met him he was in a suit and tie and looked smooth as fuck. I
would love to teach him a few things.

His smooth voice came over the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello. It's the Boss." That was my name as far as the buyers were
concerned. "You requested two slaves, do you want them trained?"

"Why do you ask?"

"One of my trainers is kicking up a fuss, a guy raped his sister and is out
of prison and he wants him enslaved."

"You're offering me one of your trainers? I am honoured."

It wasn't often I sold one of my trainers. Each one was only good for a few
years before I sent them on, under the guise of being transferred to
another camp or other sadistic bushiness, to a special trainer who only
took on as many as three at a time. He would break them down away from the
knowledge of the other trainers, the last thing I needed was the trainers
to catch onto their fate. I was informed they were very hard to break but
it was beautiful when it did happen. He recorded it once and sent it to
me. Watching it left me so aroused I had to brutally fuck a slave in full
view of everyone to satisfy myself. That night had gone down in the ranch's
legend.

"Yes, he's made too much of a fuss this time and I never liked him. You can
have them both if you want, I only ask because he'll want to see the guy
trained if you do and I'll have to send him to get trained at some
point. I'd rather keep them both together to see each other's misery."

God, I could be sadistic with people's live sometimes. But my trousers were
getting tight, I loved it and I knew it.

There was the sound of breath being drawn in on the other end of the line,
the kind you do when making a tough decision. "Okay, I'll take them
both. Untrained. I do it myself, maybe keep them wild."

I laughed and rang off.

Troy was going to get what he wanted and so much more. He was going to get
it good and be on the same level of the scum he hated, who was going to
witness his destruction.

The bulge in my trousers wasn't going to go away by itself.

I stood and strode to the slaves with a walk that got everyone's
attention. "Which slave here needs a good fucking?" I roared, even though
everyone could have heard me talking normally.

"This one," said one of the trainers, kicking his slave forward. "It's been
slow folling orders and has no focus. It grazed my cock with it's teeth."

The slave looked like it could have pissed itself and couldn't look at
me. Just how I liked it. Without waiting for a better offer Igot it in
position, unbucled my jeans, and let my cock loose. It was at full mast,
nine inches and thick as a beer can. I lined it up and rammed it home. I
needed to hear it scream.

To Be Continued?



Thanks for reading! If you have any ideas for sequels or slave
training/discipline please contact me at: rthrhmmn@gmail.com

Check out my tumblr at: rotherham.tumblr.com