Date: Sun, 19 Apr 2009 23:12:13 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jake Ward <nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com>
Subject: Gay Male Authoritarian Sex Toy Enslavement Ch. 6

	We're returning to the experience of 115 (Matt Forest) in this
Chapter, but now you know that other stories are going to be running
parallel with that of 115's as this story is bigger than just what happens
to him.  This is a story of how another man, 115, has been caught up in an
ongoing process of making sex toys for wealthy men around the world.
Though the story of 115 is important and will be a focal point, the whole
story is much bigger than that.  The benefit we achieve from such a
methodology is there will be a great deal of variety, so if you read a
chapter that doesn't get you off, don't worry, the next one probably will.

	As the story will move around some, I'm providing a list of
characters, as they become involved in the story, for a quick and easy
reference, in case you come across a name, or number, you don't remember.

	115 (Matt Forest): 23 yo, 6'2", 195, 9" uncut, Anglo, athletic
build, blond hair and blue eyes, straight, single unattached guy getting
his life started.  (Wearing ball weights)
	The Doctor: 41yo, 6'1", 185, Anglo, well defined, short salt and
pepper hair and blue eyes, sadist that has developed a way to profit from
his sadism.
	Trainer: 37yo, 6'4", 215, 10" uncut, Anglo/Latino, muscular but not
bulky, dark hair and eyes, sadist that has worked for the Doctor for years
running his training stable, hoping to become a partner.
	Mr. Watts: 31yo, 5'11", 170, 7" cut, Anglo, athlectic build, dark
hair and brown eyes, loves his job scouting for new slaves.
	  99: 22 yo, 5'8", 175, 6" cut, Anglo, muscular, dark hair and blue
eyes, straight, captive for 6 months.
	101: 21 yo, 6'4", 225, 12" uncut, Black, heavily musceled, black
hair and brown eyes, straight, captive 5 1/2 months.
	103: 23 yo, 6'2", 195, 8" uncut, Latino, tall slender and well
defined, black hair and brown eyes, gay, captive just over
			5 months.
	104: 22 yo, 6'2", 190, 7" cut, Anglo, swimmer's build, brown hair
and eyes, gay, captive just under 5 months.
	105: 24 yo, 5'8", 165, 6" uncut, Iranian, slighter build but very
well defined, black hair and eyes, straight, captive 4 1/2
			months.  (Wearing ball weights)
	107: 19 yo, 5'9", 165, 8" uncut, Latino (Captured illegal),
athletic build, brown hair and eyes, straight, captive 3 1/2
			months.  (Wearing ball weights)
	109: 23 yo, 6'1", 190, 10" uncut, Black (Ebony), slightly muscular
and well defined, straight, captive just over 2 months.
	112: 21 yo, 6', 180, 9" cut, Anglo (darkly handsome features),
athletic build and well defined with attractive body hair, straight,
captive about 6 weeks.
	113: 24 yo, 6', 190, 5" cut, Asian, slender but muscular build,
black hair and brown eyes, gay, captive almost 1 month.  (Wearing ball
weights)
	Bosses:
	Murphy: 32 yo, 6'2", 200, 7.5" uncut, Anglo, muscular, dark
features and hairy chest, straight, employed 3 years.
	Willis: 33 yo, 6'1", 205, 7" cut, Black, muscular, black hair and
eyes, gay, employed 3.5 years.
	Martin: 31 yo, 6'3", 215, 8" uncut, Anglo, very muscular, lt. brown
hair and green eyes, straight, employed 2.5 years.
	Samuels: 34 yo, 6'2", 205, 8" cut, Anglo, muscular, blond hair and
green eyes, gay, employed 2 years.
	Jackson: 33 yo, 6'4", 210, 8" uncut, Anglo, very muscular, brown
and brown, straight, employed 3 years.
	Holt: 28 yo, 6'2", 200, 7.5 " uncut, Anglo, muscular, blond hair
and blue eyes, straight, employed 1 year.

	I continue to hope that you're enjoying the read, and always enjoy
hearing from you with ideas or suggestions.  Please remember if you write
me to tell me where you're from, I'm amazed at how spread out we are.  I
also enjoy hearing from younger slaves looking for an older Master with a
great imagination and more to offer.......:)


***************************************************************


			Sex Toy Enslavement Chapter 6


	As 115 walked back to his cell with several other slaves, he felt
as if he were in a haze.  Too much had happened too quickly for his body or
his psyche to absorb.  It was only yesterday morning that he'd been running
on his morning jog and was being admired by the women on their smoking
break........only yesterday.  It was only yesterday that he had leaned over
into a limo to say "no thanks," to a guy about a modeling job, and somehow
had fallen out of his world into Hell.  And so far, in his brief stay in
Hell, he'd been fucked more times than he'd actually fucked anybody else in
all his twenty three years.  Since fucking yesterday!!!

	He caught himself.  It didn't do any good to go off like that in
his mind.  He was in a dangerous situation, and he needed to stay present,
not only for his own protection, but to watch for a chance.......any
chance......to get away from here.  Of course, now that this permanent
collar had been installed around his neck he wasn't sure how that was going
to happen.  As the Boss who installed the collar had explained to him, if
he went too far from the transmitter located in the building, the collar
would explode, decapitating him instantly.  He wasn't sure yet if he
believed the guy, but the really bad news was that so far everything they'd
said about his situation seemed to be true.  He hoped he might get more
info from 104 or one of the other slaves this evening, but even more he
hoped there would be no more welcoming rituals when they got back to their
cells.

	The day had been one miserable, painful and humiliating experience
after another.  Considering that 115 was never really naked very much, not
even when he was home alone, the constant nudity was an emotional drain.
He wondered if he would ever get as used to it as most of the other slaves
appeared to be, he couldn't imagine that, but then wondered if they'd ever
thought they would be comfortable naked all the time.  He had already
learned to never cover himself with his hands.  Samuels, one of the Bosses,
had slapped his hand away from his cock and balls and then slapped him
soundly across the face and told him he was never to cover himself when
there were real men present.  That a real man was privileged to enjoy the
full view of a slave at all times.  The sting of the slap had hurt enough,
but the burning humiliation of knowing that he was to always be on full
view for the pleasure of someone else, left a burning in his spirit that
wouldn't cool.

	He had been in a group of four slaves for what seemed like most of
the day, after his collar had been affixed.  The group included 107, who
appeared to be the youngest of the slaves, a nice looking Latino youth;
103, the other Latino, but taller, and more of a swimmer's build; and 99,
one of the shorter slaves, but very muscular with the palest blue eyes; and
himself.  They had been exercised earlier in a room that was as well
equiped a gym as 115 had seen anywhere.  The main difference was that all
the machines had chains and ropes attached to them because a slave would be
attached to the machine when he was working out.  On some of the machines,
like the running machines, the pace would be set by the Boss and the
machine turned on, and the slave would literally have to keep up with
whatever pace was set.  115 soon learned, if the slave fell behind, he
would be punished severely.  Other machines the slave would be attached to
and told to begin the reps and keep at it until told by a Boss to stop.  It
seemed sometimes the Bosses deliberately forgot to come back in a decent
time to tell the slave, and the slave would simply have to keep performing
or again face punishment.  And all of this would be accompanied by a
constant barrage of insults and abuse by the Bosses.  The pressure, 115
soon learned, was unrelenting.

	After what seemed like the longest workout of his life all four of
the slaves were made to kneel, their bodies dripping with sweat and all of
them still breathing hard.  There were two Bosses there, Samuels, a heavily
muscled white guy with a bad temper, and Holt, a strikingly handsome anglo
with a beautiful body and a cruel overbearing streak.  Holt began to deride
them for their lack of effort as he slapped a couple of them and shouted,
"You ladies aren't putting in the kind of effort needed to get those lousy
bodies of yours into a desirable condition.  This slave farm is known for
producing some of the most beautiful slaves on the market, and you're not
even close to that point yet.  Look at you 99," whose beautiful body was
dripping sweat, "you're hardly even breathing hard," he said as he slapped
99 across the face.  "What do you have to say for yourself you piece of
shit, you've been here longer than anyone, if someone doesn't select you
soon, the Doctor will be forced to sell you to a whore house and take a
loss."

	"I'm sorry Boss," 99 cried from his knees, "I'll work harder Boss,
I really will."

	"Work harder, shit, you'd have to start working before you could
work harder you stupid fuck," Holt responded.  "Maybe what you need is more
incentive, maybe that's what all of you need," he said as he pulled his
whipping belt from his side.  "Get those asses in the air," he yelled.

	115 was at a loss as to exactly what that meant, but he caught on
fairly quickly as he saw the other slaves lean their heads down to the
floor leaving their asses fully exposed to the whims of this sadist.  115
quickly followed the example of the other slaves and soon felt the sting of
the belt across his own ass.  Holt continued the assault until all four of
the slaves were weeping and begging for forgiveness while promising to do
better.

	"Well that's just wonderful," Holt sarcastically remarked, "that
ya'll are going to do better.  If that's the case, you should get a reward,
don't you think Samuels?"

	"Oh I do, something special I'm thinking, " Samuels laughed.

	"Me too," said Holt, "and now I feel badly about whipping their
poor asses so hard.  Tell you what girls, since your asses are stinging so
bad right now I'm going to help you out.  Crawl around until you've each
got an ass in front of you, hurry up now, get moving."

	It was almost impossible since there were only four of them, but no
one was going to be the one to mention that to Holt, as they all tried to
get an ass in front of them.  Quickly, they were pretty much in an almost
round configuration so each had an ass in their face.

	"Now I want each of you to lick that red hot ass in front of you,
and know that that ass is one of your brothers who really appreciates your
consideration."

	115 had never done anything like this in his entire life, but he
knew he'd better start licking 107's ass or they might all pay a more
bitter price.  Each of the slaves began to lick the ass of the slave in
front of them.  Licking all around the butt cheeks, hoping that would
satisfy Holt, but that was not to be the case.

	"As long as ya'll are at it, go ahead and make sure the asshole of
the slave in front of you is clean as well.  It's awful to have a dirty
asshole, so I'm sure your brother would appreciate your consideration,"
Holt laughed, as he began to make sure that each slave was getting their
tongues all over the little cherry in front of them.

	"Come on 115, don't make me have to help you.  I can promise you,
you don't want my help in doing what you're ordered to do."  With that 115
gave up trying to lick as far around 107's asshole as he could and just put
his tongue all over 107's tight hole.  He heard 107 groan a little, and
realized why as he felt 99 swirling his tongue around his own asshole.  The
sensation was unlike any he'd ever experienced.  It felt wonderful and like
a violation all at the same time.  115 was suddenly glad he had 107's
asshole to focus on so he could try to take his attention off the mixed
feelings he was having with 99's tongue doing such a great job on his own.

	Regardless of his mixed feelings, 115's face was burning with shame
and humiliation as the Bosses derided the slaves for being dirty little
faggots who got off rimming any guy in front of them.  A small part of
115's mind rebelled against the absurdity of what was being said and what
was happening, but a greater part was simply lost in the humiliation of
licking another man's asshole, and then, in the midst of it all, he noticed
the most upsetting reality of all, he realized he was getting hard.  He
wanted to sink into a hole and disappear, but all he could do was to
continue to stick his tongue as far as he could up the asshole in front of
him and let the tears fall down his face.

	Finally, after what seemed an eternity to 115, he heard Holt snap,
"Okay you little fairies, we don't have all day for you to pleasure each
other, we've got work to get done.  We've got to clean up those pens you
live in like pigs."  As Holt said this he started slapping them on their
backs with his belt and herding them on their hands and knees to the stable
area.  "Come on little doeggies," he chuckled as if he was a cowboy on the
range driving a small herd of cattle.  "Let's get a move on to the old
corral," he continued, then had an idea, "I've always wanted to drive
cattle, so let's hear it girls, make me believe I'm driving cattle across
the range.......come on."  With that, all four of the slaves began to moo
like cows as they felt the crack of the belt on their butts while they were
driven on their hands and knees to their next task.  It was a little more
difficult for 115 and 107 because they both had the ball weights pulling on
their nuts as the heavy balls rolled around in random patterns being drug
behind them.  115 had almost forgotten about the constant pain he felt
between his legs from the weight when he was licking 107's ass, another
small blessing he guessed.

	When Samuels and Holt got the slaves into the slave quarters they
halted their "herd" near the post in the middle of the room.  "99, you and
103 get the stuff to clean up this place from the cabinet, and don't you
dare get off your knees.  Ya'll are going to clean this entire place
without getting off your knees to make up for your disappointing workout
this morning," Holt commanded.  With a slight groan, 99 and 103 crawled to
the cabinet at the end of the room which held the buckets and sponges.
Filling the buckets at the large utility sink was more difficult from their
knees, but not impossible.  107 and 115 crawled behind to get the full
buckets and sponges as they started going into the cells in pairs.

	This was really the first time 115 had been able to look at one of
the cells.  They were all pretty much the same.  The rack with a thin pad
served as the bed.  There was a drain in the center of each cell and two
large metal bowls, like dog bowls, on the floor against one wall.  Against
the other wall, two more metal pots with lids were on the floor.  115 began
to realize, looking at the two bowls and pots that the conditions were kept
minimal and primative.  107, who was with 115 in the cell, whispered to
him, "we get our food and water out of the two large bowls, and the covered
pots are for our shit and piss, one for each."  Other than that the cells
were bare concrete and metal.  115 shuddered at the thought that he would
be eating off the floor and only a few feet away from where he would be
shitting and pissing into metal pots.  He hadn't thought it was possible
that he could feel worse.  He had been wrong.

	The routine of cleaning the cells was arduous and demeaning.  Each
pot had to be carried, while the slave crawled on his knees holding the
pots in his hands.  Then the pots were emptied at a special drain near the
utility sink.  The slave had to use his bare hands to make sure everything
was out of the pot, then to wash the pot in the sink.  Once the pots were
clean they were carried back to the cells and inspected by the Bosses.  To
make sure the pots were clean, the slave would stick his head inside the
pot and lick the sides or bottoms.  While this was being done, the other
slaves were scrubbing the floors of the cells on their hands and knees,
using soapy water.  Then taking the buckets of soapy water back to the
sink, emptying them, filling them with clean water, and carrying that water
back to the cell to rinse the floor.

	Even if nothing else had been going on, it would have been
difficult work on a person's knees, but of course, there was more going on.
Holt began a game that each time a slave had some kind of mishap, the slave
had to crawl to each of the Bosses, apologise, beg to kiss their cock and
balls, then when allowed, suck each cock, lick each ball, and finally,
press their tongues into each Boss's piss slit, and profess his undying
love for the Boss's cock.  And there were many mishaps, the Bosses made
sure of it, so one of the slaves was always at each of the Boss's cocks,
servicing them.  That meant there were only two slaves actually cleaning at
any given time, while two other slaves were sucking cocks and licking
balls.

	When the slaves were about half way through with all the cells,
Holt stopped then and remarked to Samuels, "I'm wondering if these cunts
are really focused on this job.  What do you think Samuels?  It seems to be
taking them forever to clean out these cells."

	"You're right," Samuels remarked casually, "but I think I have
something that will help them focus on their work, because obviously their
minds have been wandering."  With that Samuels went to a cabinet at the
other end of the room and came back with four serious butt plugs.  "My
thinking is if each of them has one of these babies up their cunt their
minds won't be so inclined to wander.  What do you think Holt?"

	"I think you're a fucking genius Samuels, but if you don't mind a
suggestion, I think if we added these tit clamps it would really help to do
the trick.  What do you think."

	"I'm always favorably inclined to a friendly amendment to a
proposal Holt, and I think that's a great one."

	While this little conversation had been going on, all four slaves
were on their knees facing the two goons, knowing that they would do
whatever they wanted with them.  All they could do was resign themselves to
the fact that there was going to be a lot of pain in this room during a
good part of the day, and they were going to be on the receiving end of all
of it.

	"115, get over here," Holt ordered, and 115 crawled to where he was
on his knees in front of Holt.  At least Holt had put some lubricant on the
plug before he placed it on the floor between 115's spread knees.  "Now I
want you to look me in the eyes while you lower yourself onto that plug you
little cunt, and while you're doing it I want you to tell me how pleased
you are to be fucking yourself for me.  Go ahead shithead, start pressing."

	115 looked straight into Holt's eyes, as Holt had actually squatted
down so their eyes were level.  Holt's eye's bore into 115's psyche, and
115 was completely humiliated to be doing this in front of this man.  All
the while, looking into those cruel eyes, with tears coming out of his own,
115 found himself saying, "I'm so glad you're letting me fuck myself this
way Boss.  I haven't had such a good fucking since this morning Boss, thank
you for thinking of me and allowing me the pleasure of
AGHHHHHHH............

	115's speech became a groan as Holt kicked his ball weight away,
sending it rolling a short distance on the floor until it yanked at 115's
balls again, and almost at the same time, attached the butterfly tit clamps
to each nipple.  "I'm sorry, cunt mouth, I didn't understand that last
part," Holt laughed.

	"Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of fucking myself in front
of you Boss," 115 gasped between clenched teeth and sobs of pain, and with
that, 115 felt the wide part of the plug slip past his sphincter and it was
in.  He was filled again, and he hated it.  His face burned with the shame
of it, and as if it wasn't enough, Holt started playing with his cock.  The
touch startled 115 as he looked down and saw Holt's hand gently playing
with his cock, he jerked his eyes back up and looked into a face of such
cruelty, yet his touch was tender on his hardening dick.  Why was he
getting hard?  Would this ever end?

	"Confused are we boi, that's because you're a stupid cunt," Holt
practically snarled at 115.  "I can cause pain or pleasure boi, and the
choice is completely mine.  You have absolutely no say in it.  Are you
beginning to understand your reality you piece of shit," Holt said to an
even more confused 115.

	"You exist for the pleasure of another man dick breath, period.
You don't have to think yet, you only have to obey.  There will come a time
for you to think about the other man's pleasure, but right now, just get
use to giving yourself willingly to the man who has authority over you, and
right now, piss mouth, that's me.  Do you understand me slave?"

	"Yes Boss," 115 gasped out of a confused state of pain and
pleasure, "I understand Boss.  Please, use me for your pleasure," he added,
hoping it would cause Holt to be lenient.

	"Oh, I plan on doing that later slave, don't worry about that, but
for now, get your plugged ass back to work," he said as he literally pushed
115 off balance and watched him fall to the floor.  115 scrambled to get
away from this cruel and sadistic man.

	And so it went for 115 and the other slaves as their day continued
from one painful ordeal to another.  Some of the slaves had become somewhat
accustomed to the routine, knowing that when they were working or
exercising they were at least not being tormented sexually.  It didn't take
long for each slave to understand that their future was one of sexual
pleasure for the man that purchased them, and if that man was a sadist, as
it seemed most of these men were, their futures would have a good deal of
pain in them.  Each slave that had finally given up the hope of escape, now
found themselves hoping they might be sold to someone who just wanted to
fuck them and have their cocks sucked.........maybe the master that bought
them wouldn't hurt them too much.  That was at least, the hope.

*********************


	After what seemed like endless hours of torment, the slaves were
making their way back into the cell block, each going into the cells where
the doors were open and waiting.  104 had wished that he had been with 115
part of the day, so he could prepare him for what was coming that evening.
There was no way that 115 could know, or even suspect, that his ordeal this
day was not over.  Yes, he'd been welcomed by all the slaves that morning
with the ritualistic fucking, but that had been kind and even gentle
compared to what was coming this evening.  104 wondered if any of the other
slaves had gotten the word to 115, he hoped so, but maybe it would be
better for 115 not to know.

	As 115 was entering his cell he marvelled that he was still alive.
To be sure, he felt numb, but he was still here, he had made it this far.
The other slaves all seemed to be looking his way, and he wondered what he
had done to draw their attention.  Then Holt came into his cell and without
much ado, simply used the wrist restraints he had brought with him to
restrain 115's wrists to his thighs.  He also put a looped rope over his
head and around his neck, very much like a leash.

	"Well, I won the draw slave, and I'll tell you I'm pleased about
it.  I'm looking forward to our night together, just think about it,
together all night, giving you ample opportunity to please me in my bed,"
Holt laughed.

	"But, but," a stunned 115 stammered, until Holt slapped him across
his face.

	"Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit, no one gave you permission to
speak.  All I'll need your mouth for this evening is to suck my dick,
caress my balls, lick my ass, and eat my cum," Holt said sternly with some
anticipation in his voice.

	115 was completely confused.  He'd assumed that he would at least
be given an opportunity to rest.  What the hell was going on he wondered,
and then he noticed that two other Bosses had come into the room with
similar restraints and ropes.  One, Samuels, went into 107's cell,
restrained his wrists to his thighs and started leading a very subdued 107
away.  At the same time the other Boss, Murphy, went into 105's cell (the
beautiful Iranian slave), restrained him and started leading him out.
105's face burned with indignation as Murphy announced to the room, "any of
you other guys want to join us you're welcome, we're going to play Nine
Eleven this evening, only I think it's going to turn out a little
differently this time," he said with an angry tone in his voice.  105 had
been taken by Murphy before and knew he had had a brother in one of the
Towers.  105 would suffer again tonight as he had on several previous
nights, and the fact that he was a second generation American would be
completely lost on Murphy.

	There was no way 115 could know any of that, or he too might be
looking at 105 with some empathy, as several of the other slaves were now
doing.  No, 115 was caught up in his own world right now, and he didn't
understand.  He looked over at 104, whose eyes were sympathetic, but he
couldn't speak for fear of reprisals.  Holt notice the glance, and the
sympathy on the part of 104 and decided to use it to his advantage.  He led
115 by his leash to stand in front of 104.

	"Well look at the touchy feely little faggot," Holt sneered, "just
wishing you could do anything to help your new girl friend is that it cunt?
Well I'm going to give you a chance to make him feel better.  Tell him
what's going to happen to him tonight, and every night for the next six
night........go ahead, tell him!"

	104 looked at 115 and said to him, as gently as he could, "each new
slave is given to each of the Bosses for the first six nights the slave is
here.  Each Boss gets to use the slave for their pleasure.  That way,
you'll know each of the Bosses and how they like to have their dicks suck,
or their asses licked.  Eventually, you'll be given a test, and you'll have
to be able to identify the cum of each Boss.  Boss Holt won you in the
drawing, he gets to have you first."

	"Good job, you little faggot, now why don't you and the rest of
these cunts settle in for the evening.  Don't worry about us, we'll be
fine," Holt laughed as he led a terrified 115 to his room.

	With that, the lights in the cell block were dimmed, but all of the
slaves noticed.  109 wasn't there.  They all looked at each other and began
to indicate by their shruggs that none of them had seen 109 that day.  In
fact, the last time any of them saw 109, he was being led away to Trainer's
quarters.  Each of them knew the tight rope 109 was walking, each of them
knew about the shotgun shell.  Had Trainer used it?  Where was 109?

***************************


	In his ignorance, 115 was one of the few slaves not wondering and
worrying about 109, he was terrified enough on his own account.  A man
whose sadistic pleasure had caused him pain for most of the day, was now
leading him to his bedroom, where he would have him, helpless, the entire
night.  If hell could get any worse, 115 couldn't imagine how.

	As Holt pushed 115 into his room he yelled for him to get on his
knees.  115 responded immediately and sank to his knees before this
terrible figure.  Because his hands were fastened to his legs he couldn't
raise the chain on the ball weight, and Holt kicked it so it rolled a short
way becoming taunt again.  "We're going to have plenty of fun tonight cunt
boi, don't worry, but there's no rush, we have all night," Holt said
laughingly.  He was looking forward to this.  This slave was still new
enough so that everything requested was difficult for him to do,
particularly demeaning and humiliating, and Holt loved that.

	Holt began to undress, and was soon walking around the room naked,
with his thick cock swaying as he moved in the room.  115 never took his
eyes off this fearsome man, he knew he needed to be prepared to please him
or feel his anger.  His hope was that Holt would simply fuck him then go to
bed, but he was to be sorely disappointed in that expectation.

	As Holt sat down to a table with a plate of food, 115 realized how
hungry he was as well, but instead of offering him something to eat, Holt
ordered him to crawl under the table and start sucking his cock.  115
quickly crawled on all fours to get under the table then pressed his face
between Holt's thighs and took his cock in his mouth.  It certainly wasn't
the first time he had had Holt's dick in his mouth that day, but it still
caused him to turn red with humiliation at the thought of what he was
doing.

	Holt ordered him, "Move your head back for a minute," and when 115
responded, he watched in disbelief as Holt put a little dab of mashed
potatoes on his erect cock.  "Knock yourself out faggot, that's the only
way you'll get anything to eat this evening."

	115 was stunned, but quickly recovered and moved his mouth back
onto Holt's cock, working his tongue around the potatoes and swallowing
them as he continued to suck and lick Holt's engorged dick.  That was the
way 115 ate what little food he was going to get for dinner.  All of it was
served up on this man's swollen cock, and all of it was swallowed with bits
of Holt's pre-cum as seasoning.  It was a miserable way to eat, but 115 was
so hungry, he accepted his fate, and ate, pre-cum and all.

	After dinner, Holt had 115 crawl behind him to his bed.  Holt
stretched out and ordered 115 to get up on his bed with him.  Then he said
to 115, "I don't want to have to bother with a shower right now, it's been
a long day for me, and I'm tired.  Use your tongue and bathe me faggot.  If
your mouth gets dry there's a glass of water on the bedstand.  Keep your
tongue moist and pleasant on my body you lucky queer, and while you're
having the pleasure of cleaning me, hum some music while I relax.  Your
value will really go up when they find out I've invented a bath that also
plays music," Holt said laughingly.

	115 wasn't sure where to begin.  He'd never done anything like this
before.  Hell, he'd never imagined doing anything like this before, with
anyone, but certainly not a man like Holt.  But his stupor cost him as Holt
slapped him across the face and told him to get busy licking, "and make
damn sure you get everywhere you piece of shit, my feet, between my toes,
under my arms, my crotch, my ass........everywhere, do you understand,"
Holt snarled.

	"Yes Boss, I understand," 115 replied as he quickly went to Holt's
feet and began licking them, covering them with his saliva.  Getting his
tongue between each toe, tasting the residue of socks and sweat, taking his
time, not wanting to displease this man.  Then slowly moving up each leg,
covering his body with his tongue, tasting the sweat, the musk of his
manliness.  Coming to Holt's crotch and pushing his face and tongue deep
into that crotch, getting his own face wet with his saliva as he licked
everywhere.  Then pausing, ever so briefly, as Holt turned, presenting his
ass to him.  Quickly recovering, 115 swirled his tongue around the mounds
of each ass cheek, then began to press his face between the fleshy globes,
licking as he went, until he was at the musky opening of Holt's ass.

	"Didn't have a chance to clean up before our time together boi,
hope you don't mind," Holt said satirically, "but I'd really appreciate it
if you'd do an extra careful job on my ass."

	"Yes Boss, I will," and with that 115 began to soak Holt's ass with
his tongue.  The taste, the smell, caused 115 to start to gag, and just as
soon as that reflex kicked in, Holt turned and slapped 115 viciously across
the face.

	"You puke in my bed slut and you'll wish that whore that gave birth
to you had had an abortion, do you understand me!"

	115 got hold of himself quickly and realized that he would have to
force himself to do whatever this man demanded.  If he wanted his ass
licked, then he would lick it.  "Yes Boss, I understand," he said.

	"Good, then I have a little treat for you slave," and he turned
back around, "spread my ass cheeks open with your hands slave.  115
responded immediately, and was stunned as Holt reached back with his right
hand and pushed a little chocolate "KISS" part way into his ass hole.
"Lick it until there's no more chocolate bitch," Holt said as he relaxed
his body waiting for the pleasure that was coming his way, and knowing,
without even looking, how red with humiliation, 115's face was right now.

	115 lowered his face down in between Holt's ass cheeks and began to
lick the KISS, tasting the mix of chocolate and asshole.  He was careful
not to choke again.  If he felt a spasm coming he would simply keep licking
and force himself to hold everything in.  It was humiliating, it was
horrible.  It seemed to take forever before he was sure there was no more
chocolate left and felt safe to move on to other parts of Holt's body.
Most of the rest was easy by comparison, although his arm pits were
especially rank and sweaty, but by then 115 could see an end in sight, so
he kept going.......licking......everything.

	When Holt was satisfied that 115 had accomplished his task, he
slapped him again and told him, "now lay across that pillow so your little
ass is in the air for my dick," and 115 got himself into position to be
fucked by this man.

	"Now, ask me real nice to fuck your little girl ass.  Come on, tell
me how bad you want a real man to fuck you slut, not like all those
worthless slaves, who couldn't fuck if their lives depended on it.  Start
begging you little whore, and make it good and dirty."

	And with that 115 went even further down the road of degradation
and humiliation.  "Please fuck me Sir, please, let this worthless cunt feel
a real man's dick it my hungry hole.  Please Sir, I've wanted you to fuck
me all day, please, fuck me now, let me know what a real man can feel
like."

	Holt relished the words as they washed over him.  His sense of
power and control were complete and that was getting him even harder.  God,
he loved degrading and fucking these slaves, he really couldn't understand
why he loved it so much, but he did.  He wasn't a faggot, he loved fucking
real cunt, but there was something extra about having a man submit to him,
having a man, who resented what was happening, but was powerless to do
anything about it, having that man submit, grovel, beg to be fucked.  As
115 continued as he had been ordered to do, Holt pressed his raging hardon
against 115's almost cherry door.

	115 could feel Holt's cock head press against him, he could feel
that now familiar sense of pressure on his sphincter muscle, pushing enough
to force the muscle to give way, even though he was trying to keep it
closed.  Finally, he knew he couldn't keep Holt out, Holt would have
him.......all of him.

	As 115 continued the words, which he was saying almost mindlessly
now, he felt Holt's cock head break through his opening.  Slowly,
deliciously for Holt, the huge shaft began its descent into the warmness
that only that part of 115's body could offer.  He groaned between his
words as he continued to encourage Holt to fuck him, as if this sadist
needed any encouragement.  He could feel Holt begin to get a rhythm going
as he started pumping his engorged cock in and out of that moist hole.
Holt would plunge all the way in, then pull out until his cock was almost
completely out of 115's ass, then plunge, with all his force, back into
that warm, moist spot.  With each plunge, he could feel 115 tense with
pain, and gasp between the words he was still saying, encouraging this
"magnificent man to fuck this worthless slut."

	Holt paced himself, he was in no hurry, but sooner than he had
wanted he could feel the churning within his own groin, and the delicious
feeling of his own balls as they prepared to discharge their seminal
treasure into this fucker's ass.  He could feel it, just
another.........plunge..........or
.........two...........and...........NOW..........."Take it you
cunt"............."Take it all!!"............he shouted, as he shot wad
after wad of cum into that ass.  115 could feel Holt's cock as it convulsed
it's load inside him, lining his colon with even more cum.  Again and
again, Holt yelled at him to take his load, until finally, he was spent.

	And then, without even withdrawing, Holt settled down still on top
of 115, pulling a pillow over part of 115's head and shoulder and
collapsing there.  No more words, no nothing, just a sadist finally
satisfied, and taking his rest.  At first 115 wondered if Holt was going to
get off of him.  Then he realized that this was how they were going to
sleep, with this man's cock jammed into his ass and most of the weight of
his body pressing down on him.  There weren't a lot of choices for 115.  On
another occassion he might have noticed his good fortune at being in a bed
to sleep, but somehow, right now, it didn't seem like such good fortune.
He was pressed down under a sadist with that sadist's cock stuck up his
ass.........somehow he didn't feel so lucky.  Then he felt Holt's foot move
a little, as Holt kicked the ball weight off the bed, suddenly jerking
115's ball sac tight again with a gasp from 115 and a little chuckle from
Holt.

	Actually, 115 was kind of lucky.  Holt only woke up one time during
the night and began to once again plunge his cock in and out of 115's ass.
It was one of Holt's favorite ways to fuck a slave.  To not have to do
anything except start thinking about it in a half dream, get hard, and
start pumping.  It was a wonderful way to fuck.

	115 was lucky in that Holt could usually do that two or three times
in a night, as he would find out on other occassions, but on this night,
115 was only fucked one more time.  And that time Holt brought him out of a
restless sleep, but still he had slept a little.  In all the pain, all the
humiliation, all the suffering, he didn't realize that his first full day
as a slave was coming to an end.  He didn't have a chance to reflect how
many more there might be, he simply found himself drifting fitfully into
that restless sleep, hoping that soon he would be able to sleep alone in
his own cell.



I hope all of you enjoyed getting back to 115.  His journey has only
begun........hope you'll come back for more.  Let me know how you're
enjoying the story and any suggestions are gratefully received.  Be sure
and let me know where you're writing from and I'll try to have Chapter 7
out soon.  Thanks to all my readers.  Jake