Date: Tue, 17 Mar 2009 09:47:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jake Ward <nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sex Toy Enslavement Part 2 Gay Male Authoritarian

Thanks to all my readers for your great feedback.  It really helps keep the
creative juices flowing and I'm truly glad that a lot of you seem to be
enjoying the story.  I'll do my best to keep your readership, and let me
tell you, there are some erotic twists and turns coming your way.  Thanks
and stay in touch, especially you slaves looking for a good home.

Disclaimer: The following is an original work of fiction that contains
graphic depictions of sexual activities and erotic abuse between males.
All characters are portrayed as being over 18 years of age, as you should
be to read this.  If you aren't, or if such material is offensive to you or
illegal to read where you are, then stop reading now.
	All rights are reserved by the author.  Please download for
personal use only.
	This story is fiction...........I think.

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	Matt was coming to.  He wasn't sure what time it was or how long
he'd been out.  All he knew was that he was still cuffed, still naked, and
still hurting like he'd never hurt before.  His humiliation was beyond
anything he'd ever known.  He had been used by another man!...taken and
used in every way that man could think of.  His asshole felt like it was as
big as a tunnel, this huge opening that you could drive through.  He hoped
that wasn't the case, but he couldn't seem to make his asshole feel like it
was closed.  In fact, it still felt like Mr. Watts was inside him.  He had
never had this sensation before, and he prayed he would never have it
again, but right now he wasn't very hopeful.

	He was lying on the floor of a darkened room.  The floor was plain
concrete and it was cold.  Matt was cold and scared. He didn't feel good
about his prospects of getting out of here, but he knew he would find a
way, somehow.  The trick right now was to play by this guy's rules, to get
hurt as little as possible, until he saw his chance.  Then he would have to
be ready to move quickly, so Matt was determined to conserve his strength
for that moment.  That's when Matt realized that he was hungry and thirsty,
in fact, very thirsty.

	He was just beginning to wonder how much longer he would be like
this when the lights in the room began to come up.  The room was about
twenty by twenty feet.  The lights were located in a high ceiling.  The
walls were gray and stark.  There was a drain in the middle of the floor
and hoses coiled up on one of the walls.  There were large metal cabinets
against the wall with the hoses and several cross like structures along
another wall, but what Matt noticed next sent a new shiver of fear up his
back.  There was a large chain with a hook on its end coming out of a hole
in the center of the ceiling just above him.  All of a sudden Matt felt his
gut churn with fear, but before he could think any more about it, the door
to the room opened.

	The man from the car, his Master, and another hard looking man came
into the room.  "I'm glad to see you're back with us," said his Master, "we
need to get started.  Time is money.  I want to introduce you to
Mr. Trainer, that's his name and his function.  He will be in charge of
your training and you will obey him as if it were I speaking to you.  Do
you understand boy?"

	"Sir, yes Sir," Matt remembered to say.

	With that, Trainer moved to Matt and lifted him to his feet, and
Matt heard the chain overhead begin to rumble as it moved.  His Master had
pushed a remote control, causing the chain to descend.  As the chain come
lower, Matt could feel Trainer placing new cuffs on his wrists.  They felt
like a kind of padded leather that seemed to buckle tightly on each wrist.
Trainer then took off the metal cuffs and Matt's hands felt a little
relief, but it didn't really cause him any relief.  His hands were now a
little further apart, but still securely fastened behind his back.  Trainer
took the chain as it descended to his back, and he could feel it being
attached to his cuffs.  Then his Master punched the remote again and the
chain started going up.  Matt could feel his arms being pulled by his
wrists, upward, straight out behind his back, away from his body at an
impossible angle.  He was just about to scream when the chain stopped.  He
was actually on his toes trying to relieve some of the pressure on his
joints, as his arms were fully extended straight out behind him, he had
even been forced to bend at his waist to keep his arms from being pulled
out of their sockets.  He was moving a little, trying to find a place where
the chain would give him a little more length, but it wasn't to be found.

	"Be still!" his Master commanded, and Matt froze where he was.  He
didn't move a muscle as his Master came closer to him.  "Now," his Master
said, "we begin."

	"Until further notice you will address and think of me as 'Master.'
Nod if you understand me boy, and Matt nodded his assent while suddenly
realizing that he already had.  You will refer to Mr. Trainer as 'Sir,' and
any of his assistants you will call 'Boss.'  Nod again if you understand,"
he said and Matt nodded.  "This part of your training is difficult
emotionally boy, but it has to be done.  Turn and face the back wall."

	Matt carefully, on tiptoes, turned to the wall that Master pointed
to, pivoting on his arms awkwardly and turning his head at a difficult
angle to be able to look at the wall.  He saw a pile of something about
three feet high stacked against part of the wall, covered by a tarp.
Master walked around to the side of the pile.  "You need to know what was
going on while we were traveling in the car and you were playing with
Mr. Watts.  As you entered my car, one of my employees was entering what
used to be your apartment."  With this Master pulled the tarp off the pile.
There, on the floor was everything Matt owned.  There wasn't a lot of
furniture because the apartment was furnished, but all his clothes,
athletic equipment, books, all his stuff was there.  Matt looked at it in
utter confusion.

	"You need to fully understand your situation boy.  I know you're
thinking you'll 'play along' until you find a way to get out of here, to
get away.  Well let me tell you, you won't.  It has never happened, and
besides, there's no life for you to get away to.  You've broken your lease
with a day's notice, you've sent a truly nasty letter to your employer
telling him you think he's an asshole, and your miserable little bank
account will be closed within the week.  In short, you will no longer exist
out there.  No one will be looking for you or miss you, because you have no
one.  We do our work very well boy, and when we're finished you will be
erased from the outside world.  Do you understand what I'm telling you
boy?"

	Matt just starred dumbly at the pile of things which only a day
before had helped to define who he was. Here it was, just so much junk
piled up on the floor.  Matt was devastated.  It would have been kinder if
Master had simply driven a knife into him.  He was being systematically
erased as a human being and becoming....what?  He lowered his head and felt
the tears begin to flow freely down his face.

	With that, Master lifted Matt's face up with his hand below his
chin and saw the tears.  "Well, I see you're beginning to understand boy.
Believe it or not, that will actually make your training easier.  This is a
kindness boy, though you may not realize that yet.  Now, are your arms
beginning to hurt boy?"

	Matt continued to let the tears fall as he looked into his Master's
face and said, "Yes Master."

	Well, I can help you there boy, and with that he punched the remote
and the chain began to lower.  Matt felt the circulation flowing back into
his arms as they came slowly down.  The chain continued to lower until it
began to gather on the floor.  It coiled quite a bit, then, it stopped.

	"Now I've done my part boy, you'll have to do the rest yourself
because Trainer will begin raising that chain in just a couple of minutes,
and I can assure you, it's going much higher than it was just now.  With
that, Master handed Trainer the remote. If you're smart, you'll sit on the
floor and pass your cuffed hands under your lovely butt, curl your legs up
as tight as you can and continue to pass your hands under your feet, thus
bringing your cuffed hands to the forefront.  And if I were you boy, I
wouldn't waste any time getting that accomplished because you're about to
find it easier said than done."

	Matt stood in disbelief for a minute then realized he was wasting
valuable time just standing there.  He now knew this man was capable of
anything, he wasn't going to underestimate him again.  He squatted as
quickly as he could, straining his arms so that he could get his hands
under his naked ass.  It was harder than it had sounded, in fact, he wasn't
sure it could be done.  But finally, by curling his body a little and
stretching his arms almost our of their sockets and scraping the chain
connecting the cuffs hard against his bare ass, he began to make some
progress.

	Unfortunately, it wasn't soon enough for Master as Matt heard him
say, "Trainer!"  And with that the chain started moving up into the
ceiling.  Matt curled his legs in as tightly as he could against his
abdomen and chest.  The chain began uncurling from the floor.  If he didn't
get the cuffs under his feet quickly he would be pulled into the air in an
impossible position.  He focused on the cuffs and groaned from the exertion
until he felt the cuffs finally moving under his feet.  He got them just
past his toes as the chain began to pull his cuffed wrists into the air.
The chain lifted Matt up and continued until he was once again standing on
his toes with his arms stretched straight above him toward the ceiling.

	His Master approached him and came within inches of his face.  "I'm
going to leave you for awhile now boy.  You have a lot of training to get
done so you'll be quite busy.  But before I leave I wanted you to
understand just how completely your life has changed and how complete my
control is.  'Matt Forrest,' no longer exists.  Within a few days every
remnant of his miserable little existence will be erased.  What's left is
you, my slave.  I don't bother naming slaves because I don't want to get
that personally attached.  Trainer, number!"

	Matt saw Trainer look on a clip board and respond, "115 Sir."

	"Well that's it then," Master said, "until I say otherwise, you
will be known as 115.  Everyone will refer to you by that number and you
will respond to it as your new name, because who's dead boy?  Tell me boy,
who is dead?"

	Matt looked at him, with tears still streaming down his face and
choked, "Master, Matt Forrest is dead."

	"And who's left boy, who are you?"

	"Master," Matt choked as he said it, "I'm 115."

	"And here's the big question 115, 'what' are you?"

	"Master, I'm 115.  I'm your slave."

	"And what can I do with my slaves, 115?"

	"Master, you can do anything you want with your slaves," 115 said
as he continued to cry.

	Then Master moved in even closer, grasping one of 115's nipples in
his left hand and his ball sac in his right, and began applying pressure to
both, until 115 began to squirm and groan through his tears.  "And what can
I do you, 115?"

	"Master," 115 gasped, "you can do anything you want with me."

	"Anything, 115?"  Master said, increasing the pressure on 115's tit
and nuts.

	"Master," 115 said as he began to weep in earnest, gasping from the
pain, "anything Master, anything you want."

	"Good boy, 115," Master said as he continued to apply more
pressure, relishing the sounds of quite agony coming from this beautiful
slave.  Then slowly, very slowly began to release the pressure and removed
his hands from his new slave.  "You're going to be very busy for the next
few months 115.  How you fare during that period will be entirely up to
you, remember that, and forget about trying to escape.  You'll come to
understand that it's simply not possible.  Better minds than yours have
made sure of that.

	"Trainer," Master said, while still facing 115, I'm giving you good
material, make sure you give me a good slave."

	"Certainly sir," replied Trainer as he stepped over to 115.  "Now
if I may begin sir, we can still get several hours of work in before we
stable him."

	"Absolutely," Master replied, as he finally took his eyes off 115's
face, nodded to Trainer and casually walked out of the room.

	When Trainer and 115 were alone, 115 noticed an immediate change in
him.  He seemed to actually get a little bigger. He moved over to 115,
standing about a foot away and just starred into his face for awhile.  115
now had a chance to really look at him.  Trainer was about 6'4", well
built, not bulky, but very strong.  He had dark features and almost black
eyes that gave him a threatening appearance.  He was the kind of guy that
Matt Forrest would have avoided in an alley, but now, 115 was hanging
helplessly, naked, before him.

	"Let's get a few things clear from the get go 115.  I'm interested
in only one thing here, and that's keeping the Doctor happy with my work.
He pays me very well to do something I thoroughly enjoy, and I'm not going
to let anything or anyone interfere with that, especially something as
unimportant in the grand scheme of things as you.  It's my job to make you
a first rate slave that will be desirable to our customers, and hear me
115, I'm very good at my job.  I'll make you into what the Doctor wants, or
I'll kill you trying.  Do you understand me 115, because I want to make
sure we're perfectly clear on this.

	115 looked at Trainer and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he
meant every word.  He began to realize that there was a very real
possibility he might not survive long enough to escape.  He knew it would
be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he was going to survive.  As
long as he was alive there was hope that something might happen to change
his circumstances.  He looked into Trainer's face and responded, "Sir, yes
Sir."

	"I applaud your attempt to reassure me 115, but I think we need to
begin with an object lesson."  With that, Trainer turned and walked to one
of the cabinets against the wall.  He opened the door and 115 gasped.  On
the interior of the cabinet were, what 115 knew could only be described as
torture devices.  Even on the inside of the doors a collection of various
types of whips were neatly arranged.  Trainer looked around in the cabinet
carefully selecting various items, then returned to face 115.  With no
explanation or hesitancy, Trainer placed what looked to 115 like a little
suction cup on his right nipple.  He squeezed it a little then released the
pressure as the cup affixed itself to 115's tit.  He felt the pressure and
pain from the cup immediately and let out a little groan, but before it was
all the way out of his mouth, Trainer had placed another cup on his left
tit.  The pain was manageable, but it was there.  Then Trainer knelt on his
knee and wrapped something around 115's ball sac.  It was like a small
bungee cord with Velcro, but it had a hook hanging from it.  Trainer then
placed a lead weight about the size of a tennis ball on the hook.  The
tension and pain was immediate, and 115 continued to groan in growing
agony.

	Then Trainer returned to the cabinet and selected a short whip that
looked like a cat-o-nine tails out of old dungeon movies.  The whip had
lots of flat pieces of what looked like leather all gathered together.  It
looked bad in itself, but it looked horrible in Trainer's hands as he
walked back to face 115.

	As he was walking Trainer explained to him that this type of whip
was very painful, but didn't leave any permanent scarring.  "That's
important to us," said Trainer, "as we don't want to devalue the stock
unnecessarily."

	Trainer came to stand right in front of 115 again.  "You see 115, I
think you still don't really understand your situation.  I think you're a
pretty smart guy and you're thinking you'll 'play along' until you can make
a break, and until you get that out of your head, we're simply not going to
make much real progress with your training.  So my first job is to disabuse
you of all those notions.  Isn't that a great word, 'disabuse,' the root of
that word is the same as the word that describes what I'll be doing to
you."

	With that Trainer started laughing like he'd made the greatest joke
in the world.  Only 115 was too terrified to participate in the levity.  He
was beginning to realize what was about to happen to him, and he was
literally trying to move on tip toes away from this guy.  However, the
problem was that a step in any direction actually took him off the floor,
and even trying was causing the weight on his balls to move painfully.
There was no where to go.

	Trainer continued to chuckle as he moved behind 115.  "No where to
go, is there 115?".  I wonder if that might not be the point to this little
lesson," Trainer said laughingly.  Then 115 heard a sudden rush of air
followed immediately by the CRACK of leather on his back, and the sensation
of pain that caused him to lift himself off the ground again.  The lead
ball actually bounced in the air, yanking his nuts even harder as he cried
out from the lash.  He was trying desperately to curl his body and protect
himself from the next blow.  As the next blow came lower on his back he
screamed out in pain again.

	"That's good, 115, you need to be able to express yourself in these
early stages.  Feel free to scream, yell, curse, beg, whatever, while we
get to know each other.  CRACK!, another blow, this time over his shoulder.

	"GODDAMNIT," he screamed, "STOP IT, STOP IT, PLEASE".  CRACK!  "God
help me.....CRACK!........"PLEASE"........CRACK!

	"Don't you want to offer me anything, you know, buy me
off"...CRACK!  "Oh, that that's right, everything you own is piled up over
there in that heap of garbage".......CRACK!

	By now Trainer was moving to the front of 115 and the next blow
came across his chest...CRACK!  "Well maybe you have something else,
something we missed."  CRACK!........115 was screaming incoherently and
almost continuously no.?..CRACK!  "How about it, you got anything else to
offer me, or is it just this shit over here."  CRACK!

	Trainer finally stopped for a minute.  115 was weeping and begging
for him not to hit him any more, assuring him that he understood he was a
slave, he would be a good slave, he would do anything they told him, just
please, don't hit him anymore, but Trainer was casually walking over to the
pile of 115's stuff.  He rummage around and pulled out a tie that had been
given to 115 by his mother just before she died.  He draped if over his
neck and came back to 115.

	"How about this tie, can I have this tie 115?"

	"Sir, yes Sir," blubbered 115, take anything you want.  CRACK!  "Oh
God, PLEASE take any of it."  CRACK!  "PLEASE!"

	"You see 115, that's part of our problem.  You still think you have
something to GIVE me.  Because you still think of yourself as a real
person...you know...out there.  You think you'll be back out there, don't
you?  CRACK!  But hopefully, this lesson will help you begin to understand
that you are no longer a person like the ones 'out there.'  You are a
slave, with no hope of ever changing that condition, and what can you 'give
me,' when you don't 'have' anything, and I can take anything I want from
what you used to have?  Like this!?  And Trainer grabbed 115's cock and
balls in one hand, squeezing them savagely and causing 115 to literally
dance on tip toes and continue begging through his tears.

	He thought the weight had been bad, it was nothing compared to
having his nuts in the vice like grip of this maniac.  He screamed out
again, begging for mercy he was beginning to understand would never come.

	"If I want this, I can have it any time I want.  If I want this,"
and he spun 115 around and slapped his ass, "I can have it any time I want.
So I ask you again, 115, what can you give me?"

	Then Trainer spun 115 again, and hugged him with one arm around his
neck, pulling him close, and whispering in his ear, while he held the whip
up to his face, "and if I want to take you to my bed and make love to you
in my own special way all night, I can do that any time I want.  What can
you give me boy?  What can you give anybody?  You have nothing because you
are nothing, and how can nothing give something to someone else?  But boy,
hear me, I can make you something.  I can make you the desire of a great
many men, and if you're really smart, you'll figure out how to use that,
because that's your only way out of this place boy and you won't get there
without me."

	Trainer quickly stepped back and swung the whip...CRACK!..."do you
understand what I'm telling you boy,....CRACK...the only way you'll get out
of here is as a first rate...CRACK...top notch...CRACK...A-1 slave...CRACK.
The only other way out of here...CRACK...is in a body bag...CRACK!

	115 was screaming like a madman, begging, crying, pleading,
anything to get Trainer to stop whipping him.  Part of him heard what
Trainer said, but most of him was just struggling to get away from the
whip.  CRACK...."PLEASE, NO, PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE," cried 115.

	"Really," Trainer scoffed, "anything...CRACK...don't you get it
shithead, doing anything....CRACK...is the easy part.  You damn right
you'll do anything, but what you don't realize...CRACK...can't even imagine
yet...CRACK...is that you'll do it
eagerly...CRACK...happily...CRACK...willingly...CRACK...in order to avoid
coming back into this room and facing me!"

	Trainer stopped, 115 was hanging from the cuffs, crying and
begging.  He wasn't on his toes anymore, all his weight was pulling on his
wrists and he was hanging limp from the chain.  He had pissed on himself,
so complete was his exhaustion and surrender, but Trainer knew this
surrender meant nothing.  It was just based on raw pain and it took more
than that to really break a man, and Trainer knew the real work couldn't
begin until 115 was broken....completely.

	As he stood facing 115 he said, "This is just the beginning
cuntboy, you think this is bad.  Believe me when I tell you this is
nothing, and we're not even half finished with this training session."

	"NO, PLEASE, SIR...NO!" screamed 115.  "Sir, I've learned, I'm a
slave, I'll do anything you tell me, please don't hit me anymore."

	"You're not even close to being a slave you piece of shit.  On my
worst day I wouldn't let you near my slaves.  We've barely opened the door
boy.  These first few dozen lashes were the easy ones, I was spacing them
out for you.  The last ones are going to be continuous, as fast as I'm
capable of, and you'll find I pride myself on being very capable."

	With that the beating started in earnest.  115 was conscious for
about half of it, then he passed out.  Trainer brought one of the hoses,
sprayed him until he was conscious and coughing and began again.  Another
time Trainer used a smelling salt to revive him.  When Trainer finished he
was breathing hard from the exertion and 115 was barely conscious.  As the
hook descended from the ceiling, 115 simply sprawled onto the floor.  He
didn't have the strength to move.  In fact, moving his head seemed
impossible.  As he came to rest on the floor, he was facing the door that
Master had left through, and now noticed two muscular men standing there
with their arms folded.  When had they come in?

	"Gentlemen, will you take this piece of shit to his new home.
Don't worry about coddling him because he's new, he might as well start
adjusting to the hospitality around here," Trainer said.

	The two guys started laughing as they crossed the room and roughly
pulled 115 to his feet.  He wasn't able to stand so they started dragging
him out of the room, with his feet sliding on the floor.

	"By the way, when you've finished putting him away be sure and come
back here and help yourselves to any of this stuff that you might want.  He
won't be needing any of it," Trainer said laughingly.

	That also brought laughter to the two guys dragging 115 away.  "Oh
and put 104 in his cell with him for his first night.  We don't want him to
get scared his first night away from home," laughed Trainer, "and if you're
feeling a bit frisky you have my permission to fuck'em both before you
bed'em down."

	"Hey, thanks Mr. Trainer," the guys responded, looking forward to a
little fun before coming back here and pillaging through this slave's old
stuff.  What a great job!

	115 was hearing all of this, but wasn't really sure what was
happening.  Oh, he realized in some vague way, they were moving him in
Hell.  So much space in Hell, he thought.  Walls change colors in Hell.  He
wasn't cold or thirsty in Hell anymore...he wasn't anything...he could feel
himself being placed roughly on a platform of some sort...someone was
raising his ass into the air, he felt...oh God, he felt that terrible
feeling again, only this time it was actually worse.  "No," he mumbled,
"please no," but the pressure in his asshole only grew worse as he could
feel it being filled with another dick, he had thought he was beyond pain,
beyond feeling, but he now realized he was wrong, as this man began to ride
him even harder than Mr. Watts had..."No, please, no," he was almost
mumbling as he was losing consciousness again.

	But the man didn't stop, in fact, 115 was vaguely aware of two
other men on the floor, next to the platform.  One of them was laughing and
enjoying himself, the other was almost quiet...letting out a few moans
every now and then.  It's too much, thought 115, it's too much, no one can
take this...then he felt himself becoming lighter, almost floating, it
became darker in the room...then nothing......


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Thanks for all the great feedback to my first attempt.  I'm glad you're all
enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying providing it for our
mutual pleasure.  I'm still interested in hearing from any nice looking sub
that's really ready to submit.  Keep up the emails guys, it encourages me,
and thank you for reading.