Date: Mon, 8 Sep 2003 13:40:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: jesse <hotjesseboi@yahoo.com>
Subject: Cyber Slave -- Chapter 1

To the reader: You may have heard of cyber love, where two people develop a
relationship of intimacy through chat room contact and emails.  This is a
true story of a different kind of relationship.  One that has happened
within the last three weeks with a bewildering speed, power and intensity,
leaving me craving for the attentions of a man thousands of miles away, and
struggling to fulfill his every demand.

The Predator

It was like a door opening, and I stepped through without fully checking
what was on the other side.  As a bisexual college athlete, Nifty Erotic
Stories offers a safe outlet for my craving for man-to-man sexual contact.
Yes, in high school I played around with some of my wrestling and track
teammates, but we all had girlfriends and did not mix with the few 'gay'
students who were out about their orientation.  It has been the same in
college.  After sampling the Nifty categories, I soon became interested in
the authoritarian stories.  After reading a number of these, I stumbled
over The Predator, and it hit me like an out-of control 18-wheeler. (Nifty,
June 1, 2003).

Here, at last, was a story about someone I identified with.  The boy
telling the story is a second year university student, a fitness freak with
an absent girlfriend.  I am 19, a community college sophomore, doing
intense weight workouts to build up my strength for the upcoming wrestling
season.

The psychological interaction between the boy and the cop in the story are
compelling in a way that goes beyond purely erotic.  Yes, I could see
myself being manhandled and abused by the Predator.  Is this what I want?
Why does this story open up something previously buried deep inside me?
Where did all this come from?

I had never written to any of the authors of Nifty stories.  But, unlike
other writers the author of The Predator's invitation to write seemed
genuine, like he really wanted contact with his readers.  Somehow my
experience with this story was so powerful I felt compelled to write and
share it with the author, who had conveniently supplied an email address:
questorius@yahoo.co.uk.

Interaction With an Author

I wrote my email to the author, thinking I would never hear back, other
than a polite, thank you for your interest - glad you enjoyed my story.
Two days later, a reply was in my email inbox.  I felt a surge of
excitement, wondering what he had said.  But it was no polite reply, no,
sir.  "And which other of my stories have you read Jesse? And have you ever
been dominated by a powerful man?"  This abrupt, forceful style made me
feel this man could have been the model for the Predator.  Sensing his
power, I felt gratified by his attention. Somehow wanting, even needing
more, attention from this man, I ignored the intrusive nature of his
interest in my private sex life and replied.

Two more days later, he sent a further email, recommending two other of his
stories, but demanding a complete report on each story.  He demonstrated
what he wanted in each report from his further question on The Predator:
"Fuck the psychology, boy, did it get your cock hard and dribbling?" My
reports did not come fast enough, and soon I felt his attention in a
different way: "I gave you reference for three stories to report on.  You
have only done so on two.  Why? Obedience is not enough.  I expect it to be
prompt and complete. Don't mess with me, boy.  Just do as you are fucking
told.  Do I make myself clear?"  The final report went back to him within
30 minutes.

Soon an interrogation form arrived from the man I now thought of as the
Predator. It was pages of questions about myself, my living arrangements,
my finances, my sexual practices and my reactions to a long list of
activities, many of which I had never heard of.  I was angry and resentful.
What was going on here?  Why was I filling out an application to be a
slave?  Here the final question and my actual reply.

"You have completed this initial Interrogation.  Now record how you feel
about the experience."

I answered, "I feel overwhelmed.  Don't understand how we got from talking
about your stories to my filling out this form, except that you ordered me
to do so.  I feel inadequate and almost certain that I will be of no
interest to you as completely inexperienced.  I feel miserable knowing that
you will reject me."

There was nothing for two days.  I checked my email at least three times a
day, hoping to hear something, if only a rejection.  At last, there it was,
lukewarm acceptance as a trainee.  Suddenly I was enrolled as a slave
trainee, with my own slave name and my first assignments: submission of a
daily sex report and sending a picture of my body.

Yes, this master works his slaves and trainees, every day.  How did I get
here?  I'm no longer sure.  I only know that submitting my reports and
answering promptly any questions posed by the Predator is now the most
exciting part of my day.  But ... you, the reader, exclaim ... this is only
email !!!  How can he force you to submit by cyber.  I don't know, but the
feeling of being dominated is real.  I was inordinately pleased when he
approved of how my body looked, apparently accepting it as worthy of being
offered to him.

Soon a second daily assignment -- reading daily a chapter of The Humiliator
(Nifty, May 6, 2002) and reporting on it, along with a command to buy a dog
collar, then strip naked and put on the collar before I communicated with
him, whether, responding to orders, questions or submitting reports.  Yes
... reader ... he ordered me to write this story, so I am writing it naked
wearing my collar.

Does he read all this stuff I submit?  I don't know.  But he reads enough
of it and remembers enough of it to begin to manipulate my life from a
distance. Here are actual excerpts from his emails and my daily reports
that led to the next event radically changing my life.  This is what I
experienced, but I do not know anything of what went through his mind as he
planned and provoked this encounter.  Maybe if you are lucky ... horny
reader ... he will rewrite this account and add more details to give you
the complete story, but don't count on it.  He does what he wants.

Encounter

Sex report for Thursday, August 28.

I stopped at the campus copy center before class to have the photo of my
body scanned onto disk. The man behind the counter was my least favorite of
the people who work there, a big man in his late 30s with the kind of
muscles that come from years of working out in a prison weight room, and he
doesn't hide the fact that he doesn't like whites.  He took my disk and
photo, looked at it and then back at me, his lips curled.  Returning from
the scanner, he looked at me with the expression of some kind of animal
checking out its next meal.  Without another word he returned my change,
and doing so poked his middle finger into my palm.  My cock got half
aroused.

Sex report for Friday, August 29.

I woke up in bed with a boner and jacked off, thinking about the black man
in the copy center from yesterday.

Email from the Predator, Saturday, August 30.

When you first mentioned the tough, old, jailbird black man in the copy
shop who poked his finger suggestively into your palm when giving change,
you described him as your least favourite man there.  Now you tell me you
used him as wank material.  Well now I am going to use him because you are
going back there as your first Obedience Test.  Making sure he is on duty
you will go in with the same pic of yourself saying, with eye contact, "I
need another of these for another man.  Seems men like to have pictures of
my body."  Yes, you really are going to say those words to that man, like
it or not - and I'm hoping you hate it!  When paying him you will ensure
your hands touch, again with eye contact, and if he makes any vaguely
suggestive remarks you will play up to them, not pretend not to have
noticed!  In the unlikely event that he wants to meet you, you will agree
and let him use you in any way he wants.

You think all that is bad?  Well, it gets worse because you are going into
that shop wearing your slave collar!  Oh yes you are!  You can put it on
outside and take it off immediately you leave if you cannot face wearing it
in the street, but you will speak submissively to that big man, calling him
"Sir", while wearing the symbol of your enslavement.  Got it?  Good! Now do
it and report.

Sex report for Tuesday, September 2.

Stopped by the copy center on my way to class.  The mean-looking black man
was at work today.  I got half aroused when I saw him through the window.

After an upper body workout in the college weight room, I showered and put
on a very tight old wifebeater, which outlines every detail of my torso

I returned to copy center, put on my collar outside the door, walked up to
the black man behind the counter, looked him in the eye, and said my lines,
using sir to address him. His eyes widened, he looked down to my chest and
abs, then back up to the collar.  The corners of his lips curled in
something between a smile and a leer.  He took the photo and disk, scanned
it in for me, looking back at me once.  I smiled at him, flashing my
dimples.  When he turned around it appeared his cock was aroused.  I paid
him, touching his hand and looking into his eyes. He made change then spoke
for the first time, "You wanting something more?"  I said, "Yes, sir, I
want anything you give me."

He smiled, shoved an order form at me, said, "Fill out your name and phone
number, we'll give you a call when your order is ready."  So I did and
looked up at him. He nodded toward the door, so I left, my cock almost
completely hard. I turned around at the door and saw him put the paper with
my phone number in his pocket

Email from the Predator, September 3.

Assuming that your reporting was accurate and truthful (and I trust it
was!), then this reality was every bit as good as my stories!  I liked the
quick-witted way he asked for your name and phone number "so he could let
you know when your prints were ready."  Neat.  Except of course that he
knows how to contact you ANY TIME he wants you!

Will your report tomorrow show that he has already phoned - or will he
leave you to stew for a day or two (as I would!)? Anyway whenever he phones
and no matter how often he phones, you will ALWAYS do exactly as he wants,
is that clear?  And you will always go to him wearing my collar as a
reminder that he uses you with my permission. Whether he just wants his
cock sucked, or wants a fuck, or if it transpires that he has some nasty
fetish perversions, you will submit to those uncomplainingly too.  And if
he wants to share his bit of white-boy pussy with his friends he can.  That
is his choice, not yours.  OK?

My hope is that this big, brutish, niggerman will exploit you unmercifully
for his pleasure, and for mine, too as you report it all to me. Oh boy, you
really are a piece of Filth, aren't you, Cumpump?  Or even a piece of filth
Filth. (Now do you see why your slavename needs caps?) I am very pleased
with you and if this black bastard really does poke his nigger cock into
your body (at either end, I'm easy) then you will be immediately demoted
down from Trainee Slave to full Slave status!  I can't say fairer than
that, can I?

Niggerfucked

Sex report for September 4:

At 5:00 pm the phone rang.  It was the man from the copy center - I
recognized his deep rumbly voice. He tells me to meet him at a gas station
not far from my house at 5:30. I go immediately erect, walk over to the gas
station, arrive at 5:25, and then stand there and wait, wearing my dog
collar.

Twenty minutes later an old panel truck pulls up to me.  He leans over and
opens passenger door without saying anything.  As soon as I get in he grabs
the collar, pulls my head over onto his crotch, his fly already open, and
says, "Get in, cocksucker."  I get my tongue in his fly, start licking base
of his dick.  He says, "Get it out whiteboy slut."  I reach in, pulling his
rapidly hardening cock out of his pants. He grabs my hair and rubs my face
all over his huge cock.  At a traffic light, he pulls my head up a little
then forces his cockhead in my mouth.  He is driving with one hand, using
the other to push my head up and down on his cock. The funky smell of his
sweaty crotch fills my nose.  Soon he pulls into some sort of building,
shouting at me, "Watch the teeth cocksucker bitch." His cock by now is so
hard I have hard time taking it in my mouth in this sideways position and
scrape him again.

Suddenly he yanks up my head, jumps out, grabbing my collar, yanking me out
his door headfirst and slams me into the floor.  He grabs me again.  Two
very hard slaps to the face knocking me onto the floor again. I'm yelling,
"Sorry, sir . . . sorry, sir."

He speaks with a low, menacing tone, "I'm gonna teach you to suck cock
good, boy." By now I have scrambled into a crouch at his feet.  He reaches
down, grabs me by the hair, pulls my face up to his crotch and feeds his
cock into me, forcing it down my throat. It is somewhat softer now and
slides right in, cutting off my air, choking me.  My throat starts gagging.
"Take it white trash, take my cock, its what you want, hold it in your
throat." I'm gagging, feel vomit rising from my stomach, but he holds his
cock in there.  The spasms of my throat making his cock harder, it
completely blocks my throat, keeping the vomit from rising any further.
Soon my throat stops gagging, the vomit goes back into my stomach, and he
pulls out to let me breath, saying, "That's the way cocksucker."

He pushes my shoulders down a little and moves his feet forward so he is
straddling me, so his cock is now sliding directly down my throat. Holding
me by the hair and collar, he starts fucking my face with long strokes,
completely closing off my air duct when his huge cock pushes into my
throat. He pumps for a while, then pulls off, rubbing his slick cock all
over my face, slapping my cheeks with it saying, "White cocksucker bitch."
Then he grabs me by the collar yanks me to my feet and his deep menacing
voice says, "Strip!"  As I take my clothes off, his hands are all over my
body, squeezing here and there, testing the muscle tone.  I notice we are
in an old garage full of junk. He catches me looking around, slaps my face
again hard, shouting, "Eyes on my cock, bitch!"  I look down almost
mesmerized by that huge slab of black meat.

He grabs me, slams my body up against the side of the truck, yanks my arms
together behind my back, pulls a plastic strap out of his truck and ties my
wrists together, then ties the strap to my collar.  Then he reaches into
the truck, and pulls out a dog leash!  He snaps it on my collar and pulls
me over to a dirty old table.  He makes me lie down on my back, my arms
twisted underneath on the table, grabs the collar and pulls my body so my
head is hanging over the edge, then walks around and uses more plastic
straps to tie my ankles to the table legs.  I try to sit up, but he slams
me back down onto the table, holds my chest down with his left hand and
slaps my face hard with the right.  "You gonna stay where I put your ass,
boy."  He ties the leash around the table holding me down on both ends -
now I'm starting to panic, completely helpless.

He walks around my body, squeezing my legs and arms, pinching my biceps.
Then he reaches in my crotch, grabs my balls and twists them.  I'm moaning,
my skin quivers, covered in sweat.  My hard cock oozes precum onto his arm.
He puts it up to my mouth and makes me lick it off, then slaps my cock
hard, sending pain up through my body.  Next he lines his cock up at my
mouth. Because of the position of my head, he has a straight shot right
into my throat, suddenly he thrusts all the way in, his big balls slapping
into my face, the kinky hair of his pubes on my chin.  He thrusts in and
out a few times, then starts squeezing and pinching my nips while he fucks
my face.  This big black man is grunting like a pig while his huge cock
fucks my throat raw. At one point he lets go of my nips, rubs his hands on
my distended throat feeling his cock inside it, starts saying over and
over, "Oh yeah, take my cock, bitch, suck it white trash." He twists my
nips harder, making me groan with pain around his dick.  This makes him
slam harder and faster into my throat.  "Take this niggerdick white trash."
His grunts turn into growls, but finally he shoots deep into my throat,
holds it there while a second then a third load shoot out.  I almost pass
out from lack of air, but finally he pulls out, wipes his wet cock all over
my face as I gasp for air.

Next he unfastens my legs from the table, flips me over so I am face down
now, and pushes me up on my knees.  Then fastens the leg straps down on the
side of the table with my legs spread.  He grabs something I can't see and
starts whacking my ass and the back of my thighs with it.  It feels like a
leather strap as it burns into my skin.  Soon I'm moaning and whimpering
again.  My ass is ablaze with pain.  He goes back to the truck, gets some
kind of lube, puts some on his fingers, shoves two of them up my hole, my
body shaking from the sudden violation.  Then he coats his huge black cock
in front of my face so I can see how big it is.  "You want this
cocksucker?"

 "Yes sir."

"Beg for it bitch!"

"Please sir, give me your cock, sir."

"Where boy, where you want this big nigga fuckstick?"

"Up my ass sir, please fuck me sir."

"Kiss it slut!" He makes me kiss the tip of his by now enormously rigid
black cock, then walks around and climbs on the table in back of me. I can
feel his enormous cock at my hole.  He reaches under, grabs my balls,
twists hard, making me scream, and while the pain is throbbing through my
body, he grabs my collar with the other hand and slams his cock all the way
into my hole. "Oh yeah, take it, whiteboy . . . fuck, this hole so damn
good, so damn tight!"  He grabs my hips and starts plowing into my ass,
pain shooting into me from this overwhelming invasion.  I'm whimpering,
moaning, body shaking covered with sweat.  "Take it white trash, take this
cock, make it feel good, work it with your hole."  He keeps talking to me
while he slams into me, every so often reaching down and twisting my nips
or my balls.  By now my cock is erect, oozing precum.  The pain in my
asshole subsides somewhat.  "Oh yeah, whiteboy, your ass is so fucking
good."

He keeps fucking me for what seems like a half hour, all the time talking
trash to me, while I am moaning and whimpering.  Finally he reaches around
under me, grabs my cock in his big hand and says in his deep voice, "Cum
for me whiteboy."  He jacks me a few times.  Soon a huge load erupts from
my body.  As my ass spasms around his cock, he slams in one more time
shouting then erupts in my ass.  He falls on my back, breathing hard.
Finally, he reaches up, unbuckles the collar, unsnaps the leash, and yanks
his cock out of my ass.  Suddenly I feel his hands down there.  He is
feeding the collar up into my asshole with his fingers, pushing it all the
way in except for the buckle.  He sits back, looking at my hole with the
buckle sticking out, rubbing his hands over my reddened ass cheeks. I can
feel him gloating at his power over me.

Finally he jumps down, and unties me.  "Off!" he yells.  When I stand in
front of him he snaps his fingers pointing down, so I kneel at his feet.
He sticks his cock in my mouth again and reaches down with his long arms,
to yank the collar out of my ass, covered in lube and cum.  He buckles it
around my neck again.  Throwing my clothes at me, he order, "Dress, slut."

"Yes sir."

Clothes on, we get in the truck again, but this time he makes me kneel on
the floor of the cab.  On the way back to the gas station he rubs my head,
like a dog, feeling the collar with his fingertips.  He pulls into the gas
station, saying, "You be ready when I call next time, slutboy.  Out!"  I
scramble out as he pulls away, peeling rubber, the door slamming shut.  I
stand there shaking for a while, overpowered by what has just happened to
me.  Finally rouse myself to start walking home when I start feeling his
cum trickling down my leg.

Will there be more of this true story?  The Predator has already ordered me
to submit to any further use from this man.  I am torn, wanting more of
this extremely erotic experience, but deeply afraid of what this black man
whose name I do not even know might do to me.  But as always seems to be
the case now, the Predator has made the decision for me, and I have
submitted, settling into my role as a cyber slave.