Date: Tue, 12 May 2009 15:18:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jake Ward <nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sex Toy Enslavement Ch. 7, Gay Male Authoritarian

	Sorry to be so long in getting this Chapter out.  Problem is so
many ideas and not enough time......lol.  As the story continues we'll be
dropping in on several scenes at a time so I'm providing a list of
characters for quick and easy reference.  As they become involved in the
story you can quickly scroll up to remember who they are in case you come
across a number which may not be as easy to remember as a name.
	Additionally, I would like to say that the various racial slurs in
the story are there for the development of particular characters.  I don't
use them, but I recognize they are a reality in parts of our world.
	As before, I continue my search for a slave to be of assistance as
I explore this story.  I don't like being without a slave and feel I have a
great deal to offer the right boi.  Let me hear from you if you want more
information.

	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 7


	115's first week at the slave farm was fairly routine, although if
he had heard that word used in reference to his first week, he would have
been shocked as Hell because there was nothing that happened to him during
that week that he would have ever remotely described as "routine."  He
learned several of the basic positions that a slave assumes at various
times.  He learned how to eat from a large dog bowl on the floor and how to
lap his water with his tongue from another bowl.  He learned how to squat
over a bucket to piss or shit while others watched.  He learned how to
relax his ass a little as someone chose to fuck him. He learned to refrain
from speaking to any superior unless given permission.  He learned the
collar around his neck was a form of control that was swift and brutal and
to obey all commands without resistance or be prepared to pay a painful
price.  He learned a little more about sucking a man's dick and pleasing
him.  He learned that indeed dicks tasted differently as did their cum.  He
learned that even when you felt you couldn't experience any more pain, you
could.  He learned the basics of being a human urinal whenever it was
demanded.  He learned that his future was to please another man sexually by
giving himself to him completely, and he learned that there was very little
chance that he could escape that future.  That last realization made all
the others even more bitter.  He hadn't entirely lost hope of getting away,
but he was overpowered by the sense of absolute and complete control which
was exerted on him and the other slaves constantly.  He had never imagined
such a condition, such a world, was possible, but he now knew it was, and
he was most definitely a part of it.

	Each of the five nights after his night with Holt, was simply
another adaptation of Hell.  115 learned that each of the Bosses was, in
his own way, a cruel sadistic bastard.  There didn't seem to be an ounce of
compassion between the whole lot, and it was probably a good thing that he
learned that lesson early.  These men had complete control over the slaves,
demanding immediate and absolute obedience, and when dissatisfied that they
were getting that, became cruel, vicious and creative torturers.  Torture
seemed to be their favorite pass time, and since they had ten subjects
right there, and orders to break them and make them as submissive as
necessary, it proved to be a pass time that sometimes seemed more full
time.

	One afternoon 115 noticed that Jackson was wearing his old watch.
It was startling to be getting on his knees in front of Jackson to service
him, when he noticed Jackson's wrist for some reason, then he saw it.  As
Jackson was berating him for something, all of a sudden, all he could see
was his old watch.  His dad had given it to him on his eighteenth birthday.
All of a sudden he was swept back to another time, another place.  In an
instant he was free again, and just as quickly he was back, as Jackson
slapped him hard across the face for not performing when commanded.

	"What the fuck is wrong with you shit head," Jackson harshly asked,
"when I tell you to start sucking, I expect you to jump to it and feel
privileged that I'd let a filthy faggot like you even touch my dick."  Then
Jackson noticed that 115's eyes were glued to his wrist.  At first Jackson
couldn't figure out what was going on then he remembered he'd taken the
watch 115 was looking at from that pile of his crap.

	"Oh, so you like my watch, do you?"  Jackson mockingly inquired,
and decided this could be a teaching moment, and a little fun at the same
time.

	"Yeah, I got it recently, haven't decided if I really like it
though," he said as he moved his wrist in front of 115, pretending to
examine the watch himself, but really wanting 115 to be physically closer
to it.  "It's not such a great watch, if I find another one sometime that I
like better, I'll probably just throw it away.  Watches are pretty easy to
come by around here," and with that he starred straight into 115's eyes,
both knowing what was happening.  Tears began to slowly fall from the edges
of 115's eyes, and they were certainly waisted on Jackson.

	"What are you so sad about slave, why someone would think you're
not looking forward to servicing my cock, now get your fucking mouth around
it and go down on it all the way.  I'm sick of not feeling your lips around
the base of my cock when you suck me you little shit, so make sure I
feel'em this time.  And you can use those babydoll tears of yours to wash
my pubes for me.  Now get busy!"

	And with that Jackson rammed his steel hard cock into 115's
vulnerable mouth and proceeded to enjoy himself immensely.  115 made sure
that his lips rubbed the base of his cock and in fact, his tears did
moisten Jackson's pubes.  He was back, completely back, the moment gone,
only a residue of something that once seemed important.  Now, the only
thing that was important was keeping Jackson satisfied so he wouldn't hurt
him anymore that day.  Why did he need a watch anymore........he thought as
Jackson let lose his load of cum down his throat, after all, what
difference did it make what time it was in Hell?

	115's most difficult day, since his first day, was the day before
yesterday.  Early that morning, Holt, the Boss that he feared the most,
came into his cell and kicked him off of his pallet onto his knees, "Get up
you fucking fag,' Holt yelled, kicking and slapping him at the same time.
"Today's your day to service this little community, you've gotten a free
ride so far, but you'll learn that all you little girls need to pitch in to
make this place run smoothly."

	With that, Holt pulled out a strange object.  It looked a lot like
aligator tit clamps, but they were of a little different shape and the
chain was connected differently.  Two mean looking clamps were attached to
a chain, which in turn had another chain running down from it.  115
couldn't imagine how this contraption worked, but then he didn't have long
to ponder it as Holt pulled out another object.  This one 115 recognised as
a stretcher that kept a person's mouth wide open.  Of course he only had
that knowledge because he'd seen the contraption used on another slave
already.  As quickly as realization of the objects purpose came to him, so
did the order to open his mouth.  He did so, only to be slapped soundly
across the face.

	"When I tell you to open your mouth, cunt breath, I mean for you to
open it as wide as you can, not merely yawn," Holt commanded.  With that,
115 stretched his mouth open as wide as he could, and he felt the metal
braces being put in and locked into place.  Soon, he no longer had to
strain to keep his mouth open, he couldn't have closed it even a fraction
of an inch, so well was it locked into place.  Now his mouth was truly wide
open.

	Then Holt took the clamps and fastened one to the back of each of
115's ears.  The aligator clamps dug into his ear's cartlidge, but there
was nothing 115 could do about it, and even less that he could say about
it, since it was impossible to speak with the brace in his mouth.  Then
Holt told 115 to grab his elbows behind his back.  When he complied, Holt
quickly placed restraints in such a way that 115's arms and hands were
affectively useless.  As a last touch, Holt connected the rest of the chain
that pulled 115's ears back, to his forearms behind his back.  115 was
locked in a position where his head was upturned, with his mouth held wide
open.  It was impossible to change his position at all because of the
ingenious way Holt had restrained him.  115 had a terrible feeling about
all of this, suspecting what it might be for, based on the past few days,
but hoping he was wrong.

	Each day, one of the slaves became the "piss boi."  His duty was to
present his open mouth to anyone, slaves included sometimes, so that the
person could relieve himself in the slave's mouth.  115 hadn't been forced
to use anyone as a human urinal, but he had seen it being done, wondering
how it was possible anyone would allow himself to be used in such a way.
His thoughts were interrupted by Holt in a most timely manner.

	"This is the way a good slave is trained to be a good toilet.
Today, anytime you are ordered, you will fall to your knees before whomever
orders you and allow them the use of your mouth.  This way, the Bosses
don't have to leave their important work, and can stay with the other
slaves.  But today, you will be the toilet for every person in this
complex.......slaves included.  It's time you start learning just what your
position is around here faggot, and you can start with me.  With that, Holt
unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock and stepped up to 115's mouth.
115 started to move, but felt his neck began to burn, and just that quickly
was reminded that he had no choice in this.  He made some strained gurgling
sounds, trying to beg Holt not to do this, but he was waisting his time and
his energy.  Holt held 115's head in place and told him, "if you move, even
a fraction of an inch, I'll take you to that special room for the rest of
the day.  You'll be lucky to come out alive, and then you'll begin all this
tomorrow.......understand you worthless piece of shit........you're the
toilet today, and nothing on this earth will change that.

	With that, Holt released a torrent of hot piss into 115's waiting
mouth.  115 tried as hard as he could not to choke, but then felt himself
being kicked and slapped again by Holt, who had stopped his stream.
"Listen you piss mouth, if you want piss all over your cell for the rest of
the day, that's your business, but when a man uses you, you will swallow
every drop of what he gives you.  If you don't, you will feel both your
necklace and the lash.  Now get with the program.......swallow cunt face,
swallow every drop," and Holt began pissing in 115's mouth again.  115
struggled, and actually succeeded in swallowing most of Holt's piss, a
little ran down his chin and chest, but Holt seemed satisfied enough at
115's first effort.  115 had never tasted anything like it, it was acrid,
it was awful, it was humiliating, it was disgusting........how could this
be happening to him.  Every man in the complex would be using him as their
toilet today........every man........he didn't think he could do it, but
then he realized he had little choice.

	And so, just that quickly, 115 descended a little further into Hell
as he became a human toilet.  Holt took him and had him kneel next to the
bars of each cell allowing each slave to take his turn emptying his bladder
into today's toilet.  Most of the slaves didn't think much about it one way
or another, because they had all gone through this treatment, and had
learned that it was expected of them.  115 would just have to learn like
everyone else what was expected of a slave.

	For his part, 115 was completely humiliated and emotionally
destroyed.  Never in his life had he imagined that he would have to do such
a thing.  Gulping constantly, as a heavy stream of piss flooded his mouth.
The brace holding his mouth open made it especially hard to swallow, but
maybe that was intended as part of the torment.  115 thought he would drown
before 101 was finished.  It had been bad enough when 101 had pissed up his
ass chute, but now, releasing his torrent of piss into 115's mouth, 115
thought there was a real chance he would die trying to drink all of this
man's piss.

	Soon the foul taste in his mouth was a constant reality for him,
much as the ball stretcher had become for his sore balls.  It seemed to
take forever, but finally all nine of the other slaves had been serviced.
115 was full of piss, he wasn't sure he would actually be able to hold much
more, but others had determined how to take care of that and add to the
humiliation.  Afterall, everything should be a learning experience, when
there was so much to learn about being a slave and pleasing real men.

	When Holt began to notice that 115's abdomen was becoming distended
with all the liquid, he told him, "You'll hold that piss until I give you
permission to take a piss yourself.  Don't you dare leak a single drop
until you're given permission.  Do you understand me you walking piss
bucket?"

	115 tried to acknowledge what Holt had said to him, then realized
his question was rhetorical because there was no way he could respond.
That's when he began to worry that he might accidently begin to piss before
being given permission.  He had taken the morning piss of ten men so far,
and he felt like he was sloshing as he walked from one to the other.  He
didn't know how much more he could hold.  Then he realized, he'd hold what
he had to hold.  It was awful, it was terrible, but he was going to get
through this.

	Then Holt began to torture 115 by pressing his hand against his
abdomen.  "Are we filling up already little faggot," he asked as he
laughingly continued to press against his stomach.  With each push, 115
groaned in agony as shock waves of pain went shooting throughout his gut.
The more he groaned in agony, the more Holt enjoyed surpising him with
another push in the gut.  115 couldn't really see when it was coming since
he was tied in such a way as to always be looking up, mostly all he'd seen
this morning were dicks and the ceiling.  The additional factor in his need
to piss was that Holt hadn't allowed him to piss yet this morning.  He
still had his night's load of piss inside, and now all this other piss
working through his system........all wanting to get out.

	Finally, Holt took him to a large tub in a large hall connecting
several of the rooms.  He told 115 to step into the tub and then sit down,
with his legs crossed.  That proved to be more of a challenge than it
sounded like since he was looking almost straight up and his arms were tied
behind his back.  His sense of balance and motion were affected.  Finally,
he half squatted and half fell into the bottom of the tub.  In this new
position he was looking up, and could see Holt.

	"Well, don't take all day shit head, you were moaning all over the
place, you must need to piss, so piss."

	115's eyes widened a little in surprise.  Surely he couldn't mean
for him to piss in this tub while he was sitting in it, but of course,
that's exactly what he meant.  No, he wouldn't do it.......it was too
much.......it was absofuckinglutely too much, 115 thought, as he began to
become so angry with the situation.  But what difference would his anger
make......it would just make it harder to survive, he realized.  Then he
felt it, his piss flowing from his cock and gathering around him in the
tub.  He pissed for what seemed like forever, and he sat in it.  Waiting
for his next instructions.

	"Did you think I was going to be leading you around all day piss
breath?  I have more important things to do than that.  For the next few
hours you'll sit right where you are.  Anyone needing a piss will come to
you and you'll take it.  When you need to piss, piss.  Piss all you want,
afterall, you'll be sitting in it most of the day," Holt said laughingly as
he began to walk out of the room then caught himself as if just
remembering, "Damn," he said, "would have been my hide if I forgot that,"
as he turned back to 115, who couldn't see what Holt was doing then
realized what had brought him back.  Holt reached down to grab the chain
holding 115's ball weight, then casually and viciously dropped it over the
side of the tub.  It jerked 115's balls toward the edge of the tub with a
savage pull.  He groaned miserably as he learned that pain could be added
to humiliation heightening both sensations.  Holt then began to chuckle,
leaving 115 to his misery.

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

	As the Doctor and Trainer were going to their private conference
room, they stopped in the hall to use that day's piss slave.  They paused
in their conversation long enough to relieve themselves, each taking the
opportunity to ask 115 how he was enjoying his "new job."  Of course 115
couldn't respond as each man pissed into his mouth, then the Doctor simply
moved his cock so he was pissing all over 115's face.  Soon his hair was
dripping with the Doctor's piss making his Hell complete.  After the two
men finished their piss, 115 could hear the piss dripping from his hair
into the pool of piss he was sitting in.  But worst of all, Trainer and the
Doctor simply turned after using him and continued their discussion as they
walked.  His misery wasn't even an object of their focus for more than a
couple of minutes........he now began to realize just how low he was on the
scale of things.  Even his misery was but a moment's notice to these men,
who obviously had more important things to discuss.  Here he was, covered
in piss, filled with piss, and sitting in piss, and it was nothing to them.
Tears began to well up from his eyes and run down the sides of his head,
but there was no one there to even notice.

	When Trainer and the Doctor got to the conference room, the doctor
was just changing subjects, "I want you to have the slaves prepared for
presentation to a new customer.  He contacted me about a month ago, and
we've been chatting about what he's looking for.  I'm not sure he even
really knows at this point, all I am sure of is that he can afford whatever
he decides he wants so I want to make sure he sees our variety and the
quality of our stock.  I'll explain to him that some are still in the early
stages of training, but I'll also let him know that at this stage we can
also modify the training in special ways if he so chooses.  It will also be
good for some of the new stock to go through the presentation to a buyer."

	"I think you're right about that," Trainer observed, as he began
making some mental notes about the preparations that would be necessary.
Do you have a date in mind yet?"

	"The eighteenth looked good to the customer the last time we spoke,
and I should be able to confirm that today or tomorrow.  I'll let you know
for sure as soon as I know, but I thought you'd like the advance notice in
order to begin getting ready."

	"Yes, I appreciate knowing, everything will be ready.  By the way,
have you had a chance to see 109 in the past few days?"

	"No, but I read your daily report, and I'm looking forward to
enjoying his pleasures.  In fact, have him prepared for me tomorrow night,
I'll keep him in my room for the night.  I don't have to tell you, that
your success with 109 means we may be making some changes here, it could
mean a little more intense work for you, but the additional profits should
be worth it.  I'm very pleased with your efforts Trainer, very pleased, and
we'll need to set some time aside to discuss our future."

	Those were the words Trainer was hoping to hear.  He'd worked hard,
but it was really paying off for him now.  He was anxious to begin those
conversations, but knew better than to rush the Doctor.  He was a hard man,
but a fair one, and Trainer knew if he kept producing the results the
Doctor wanted, his future could be bright indeed.

	"Watt's called me yesterday, he has found another candidate for us.
I was glad to hear from him because I don't like not being at capacity.
Anytime I go into the stable and see an empty cell I feel like I have this
huge hole in my pocket and money is falling out.  He knows I want to keep
this place at capacity and is working to find us two more slaves.  I should
know about this particular candidate in a few days.  He's another whitey,
but he has red hair which always seems to be an attraction for some reason,
so I have my hopes up about this one."

	"We haven't had a red head since #89, and as I remember, once we
broke him, he didn't last long around here.  Didn't the customer in Toronto
take that one?  In fact, we made a number of alterations as I remember."

	"Yeah, but with all the alterations the price was just over
$850,000, so it was worth the extra work.  Funny thing is, that customer
said he'd like a pair of red heads, so I've had Watts on the look out.
Seems he may have found one.  If he has I want you to be prepared to
expedite that one, because as soon as I know he'll work, I'll be calling
that customer.  Only this time, it's going to cost him a little more to
complete his matched set," he remarked as both men laughed while they
continued discussing the particulars involved in running a successful slave
farm.

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

	At about the same time that the Doctor and Trainer were having
their meeting, Holt was was getting ready for a little fun.  Trainer had
instructed him to take some extra time with 105 over the next few days.
Trainer was ready to take 105 to the next level of submission, and knew
extra doses of humiliation would aid that process.  He also knew that 105,
for some reason, had a particular hatred for Holt.  So to have to serve
Holt in those ways would be particularly humiliating for 105.

	Holt knew his instructions and was pleased that Trainer would trust
him with a job that was usually done by more senior Bosses.  Holt loved his
work on the farm.  He'd never imagined such places existed, but had been in
heaven since finding out about it and working here.  He'd always been
something of a bully, but even he had been surprised with how much he
enjoyed being able to torture someone, it was a real turn on.  He was
careful to stay within the limits he was given, but good for him, the
slaves had no idea what those limits were.  What really excited him was the
prospect of being hired as a trainer himself by one of the customers.  He
already understood that the men who bought these slaves were only
interested in the pleasure of using them.  They would no more think about
the day to day care or training of them than they would the horese, or fine
cars, or mansions that they owned.  They would simply hire someone to take
care of those details, and Holt understood that several former Bosses were
now well situated with wealthy clients.  He was going to play his cards
right and work hard to get there himself.  Not a bad future for a high
school drop out he mused.

	As soon as he opened 105's cell, 105 knew his life in Hell was
going to be worse.  This bastard of a sadist was the worst of all the
Bosses to 105, he hated him, but he still had to obey him completely, which
only made everything worse.  He jumped to present himself properly to the
Boss, causing his ball stretcher to jerk and sway.

	Holt had put on his favorite uniform as a Boss.  It consisted
mainly of leather straps around and across his torso and groin, not much
else, so his generous uncut cock was well displayed.  The first time he'd
put this uniform on, he knew he was in the right place.  He looked great in
it and felt powerful.  He loved the fact that the Bosses were like gods for
the slaves, and the slaves had to worship their bodies.  Putting themselves
on display like this was a reminder to the slave of their place and their
role in the world.

	As 105 knelt before Holt, with his head cast slightly downward, not
daring to look into the eyes of a free man without permission, he presented
a beautiful package.  Holt still prefered women, a little, but there was
nothing to compare with the power he felt when he was with a slave.  It was
more than just sex, in fact, the sex was used as a tool to emphasize the
power, the domination over the slave.  Holt didn't realize it yet, but he
was becoming addicted to that power, and for some reason he found himself
being drawn to exercising that power over 105 in particular.  He really
didn't know what it was about this particular rag head, but he felt himself
drawn to him in some way.  That's one of the reasons he had quielty
celebrated when Trainer came to him and assigned this part of 105's
training to him.  He knew it was a test for him, and it was a test he
planned on passing with flying colors.  He couldn't kill this slave, only
Trainer could do that, and Holt realized these slaves were extremely
valuable, but 105 didn't know he couldn't kill him, and there was a long
way down the highway of pain before death was an option.  This was going to
be fun, but it wasn't quite right yet........."crawl after me you little
faggot."

	Holt led 105 out to the center of the cell block so that the slaves
still in their cells had a good view of everything.  Nothing increased the
level of humiliation quite like an audience.  Especially for what Holt had
in mind.

	"You other slaves present on your knees next to the bars and watch
your sister service a real man."  And just that quickly, there was an
audience as the slaves quickly moved into the ordered position.  One might
think that this particular audience wouldn't affect any of the slaves, but
that's not the case.  Humiliation is humiliation, and even if the audience
is sympathetic to the victim, the victim is still being used in front of
it.

	However, Holt had a little surprise up his sleeve.  He had prepared
for this event almost a week earlier when he had 105 in his room for the
evening.  A little private tutoring about how he wanted 105 to present
himself to him.  He had taught him, knowing that middle easterns are such
prideful men.  He wanted the pride to be part of the undoing, so he had
taught 105 to present in a little different manner.  He knew 105 thought
this was to be a private thing, just for when they were together, but 105
was about to learn that there is no such thing as privacy in the life of a
slave.......this lesson would be hard learned.

	"Okay 105, you know how I like for you to present yourself to
me........so present," Holt ordered.

	105 couldn't believe his ears.  Surely this bastard wouldn't force
him to perform that disgusting scene in front of anyone else......even
slaves.......anyone.  He looked at Holt with true fear in his eyes, the
fear that comes from crossing a threshold that you can't come back over.
He had done humiliating, degrading things, but this was worse to him.

	"Please, please Boss Holt, please don't make me do this," he begged
quietly.  Holt could hear him, and he relished the sound, the pain in the
voice of this beautiful man.  Holt's reaction was more than even he
realized when he noticed that the quiet begging of 105 was making him hard,
but it was true.  As 105 begged, Holt was coming to full erection.

	"Don't make me have to report to Mr. Trainer that you were
disobedient you little cunt," Holt snarled as he slapped 105 viciously
across the face.  The blow was strong enough to knock 105 over, but he
quickly got back into position, as he knew it would be worse for him if he
didn't.  He was terrified of Trainer and knew what his response would be.
He and Trainer would be in that room for a long time.  It had already
happened two different times, and Trainer had told him if there was a
third, and he was lucky enough to come out alive, he would have a shotgun
shell around his neck, just like 109, and no one had seen him in almost a
week.  105 hated what was happening to him, but he wanted to stay alive.
He felt himself begin to cross that threshold, he didn't know if he could
live with himself on the other side, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to
live on this side.

	"I'm waiting faggot, now present yourself the way I taught you, or
face Trainer," Holt demanded as his eyes bore into 105's soul.

	Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed the air went out of 105, as this
proud and beautiful mid eastern man realized he had no choice, that he was
a slave, and would have to do whatever was commanded.  Holt gave an evil
smile as he saw the change in 105 and watched as his body began to shift.
105 slowly went from his knees, realizing for the first time that the
presentation postition even as a slave had a certain dignity to it, but
what he was preparing to do was simply horrible.  He went down so that his
upper buttock was on the floor,then rolled a little onto his side, resting
on one elbow.  Then he slowly raised one leg into the air exposing his butt
hole as he reached with his free hand to begin fingering that
hole.......slipping his finger in and out seductively, and then finally,
the last act of submission, with tears in his eyes, he looked up slowly
into Holt's face, softened his voice and gently said, "Please Boss,
please.......... won't you use this............ little pussy boi's cunt
hole, please Boss,........... use that big, gorgeous cock of
yours............ to send me to paradise."

	105 was choking with tears, he wasn't sure he could finish, but
knew that he had to somehow.  He looked at Holt pleadingly, but he only
snarled, "Go on faggot."

	"Please Boss...........your cock in me.............. is the
only.......... paradise I want.  I don't want.......... any virgins, I just
want you................ using my worthless............pussy........... to
please yourself," he choked.

	Then Holt began the little dance of words, which drove home the
complete degradation of what was happening.  "I'm not a fag, that I would
use some little boi for my pleasure, you disgusting piece of shit," he
said.

	"No Boss, you're all man, you're man enough to............ send
this worthless.......... pussy............ cunt right to
heaven........please Boss.  Besides this little........... pussy is
really.......... a girl/boy.  Look at these........ little
titties..........."105 was almost sobbing, he was choking so badly he could
hardly get the words out, but knew his life could well depend on pleasing
this sadist, so he continued the farce........."these little
titties.......... that you could nibble on," and with that he curled the
arm he was resting on and started squeezing one of his nipples.  "Or these
little....... ovaries that just.......... love to be held.......... in your
masculine hands," and 105 pulled the finger out of his asshole and began to
lift his balls up for Holt's inspection.  Of course, this was made more
difficult with the ball weight, but that was irrelevant to Holt, whose face
was looking more relaxed now that 105 had complied.

	But Holt wanted to drive the point home with a vengence, so he
looked at 105 maliciously and said mockingly, "I can't believe my ears,
this masculine, Iranian, macho man is fingering his pussy and begging me to
fuck him.  This can't be happening, I must have misheard.  Could you please
say all that again for me, so I'll know for sure if you're serious."

	Then Holt simply smiled at 105 and waited.

	105 looked up and realized he was looking at the devil.  It was bad
enough that he'd had to do that at all, but had to do it in front of other
men, and now was being ordered to do it again.  He couldn't, he just
couldn't, he wouldn't.....it was too much, then Holt did something that
shook 105 to his very core, something that startled him back into this
reality that was now as permanent as anything he had ever known.  Holt
gazed into 105's shocked eyes as he casually pulled a shotgun shell from
the side of his belt and twirled it a little in his fingers.  He didn't
have to say a word, but you could have heard a pin drop in the room.  It
was as if the air itself had been sucked out of the space, as 105 looked up
at the shell.  Everyone in the room, except Holt, was thinking the same
thing.......what happened to 109........and was it about to happen to 105.

	Not a word was spoken by anyone, but the room slowly came back into
motion and began to move with the rest of the world.  105 knew what he had
to do, and he WOULD do it.  He looked up at Holt, and in the most seductive
voice he could muster, he began the routine all over again.

	"Please Boss, please, won't you...... use this little....... pussy
boi's cunt hole, please Boss, use that big........gorgeous cock of
yours........to send me to paradise............. and it went on as before,
only this time, there were fewer tears and more resignation in his voice,
something that wasn't lost on Holt, but he wasn't finished yet, not by a
long shot.

	"I'm still having trouble understanding you and your pidgin
English, that's the problem with so many of you rag heads, you seem so
smart, but can't pronounce the simplest words.  Education is truly wasted
on your kind, but luckily I know a great technique for improving poor
pronounciation.  You place a few marbles in your mouth then practice
speaking until you can be understood.  I've seen it done on television, it
really works.  Does anyone have any marbles," and Holt looked around at the
other slaves, everyone knowing he had something diabolical in mind.

	"No, well, that's okay, we'll make do somehow," he said as he went
to 103's and 113's cell doors and told them to get out to the center.  He
had them both, the slender hispanic and the slender Asian stand near 105's
head.  "We may not have marbles, but we have a goodly supply of balls that
will do the trick just fine," he said with a sarcastic tone to his voice.

	"113, get that chinc ball sac of yours over that faggot rag heads
mouth.  And you, 105 take one of those miserably little chinc balls into
your mouth.  Both did as ordered, then waited for Holt's next pleasure.
"Now before you start your little recital again tell me your number 105."

	"AWN-AUW-AIH," 105 tried vainly to say.

	"What the shit is that suppose to mean, you disgusting little
pussy," Holt snarled at him.  Problem is you still need to work on
it........we need more "marbles."

	"103, get your balls over there," and 103 stepped over to 105's
head.  Only now 103 and 113 had to stand embracing each other to keep from
loosing balance, as 103 got his ball sac to 105's mouth.  Since 105 only
had one of 113's balls in his mouth, he knew he could hold another one, but
he'd never tried doing this from two ball sacs at the same time.  His face
was mashed into the lower groins of 103 and 113.  Finally, he grunted that
he had one of 103's balls in his mouth as well.

	"Finally, I'm beginning to think all you faggots love playing with
each other so you do everything slowly so as to get more pleasure out of
it.  We've got a lot to do, so let's get started.  Okay 105, no wait, 105
you're not enticing me anymore with that finger you keep sticking in and
out of your cunt.  I think it's just too little to be of interest.  Tell
you what, since I know what a big pussy boi cunt you are, and how much you
want me to fuck you, why don't you start using three fingers?  Okay?  Go
ahead now, three fingers," Holt said in a mockingly friendly voice.

	105 wasn't sure he would make it through Holt's fun and games, but
he kept remembering the shotgun shell.  He groaned as he began to stretch
his asshole with three fingers.  He slowly began to move them in and out of
his cunt.

	"Oh! That's a lot better, yes, I like that much more.  Now, try
your recitation again pussy."

	Only now the sounds were simply indistinguishable gutteral noises.
Holt listened for a minute, then went to the next step.

	"No, you're still speaking like you've never heard good American
English, which isn't surprising because you certainly never heard it in
your home growing up," Holt laughingly said.  105 didn't realize it, but
his face began to glow red with anger, humiliation and a deep desire for
vengence.

	"Tell you what I'm gonna do to help you out.  Since we still have
more balls, I think if we can get them all in your mouth, this just might
work."

	103 and 113 froze in place, holding each other.  They couldn't
imagine how they would each get another ball into 105's mouth, but then
Holt made it so they didn't have to worry about it.  He walked up to the
unusual configuration of the three slaves and told them to all be still.
He then reached down and grabbed the part of 103's ball sac that wasn't in
105's mouth.  "All we have to do is press this little baby in
here............," he said, and with that he began pressing 103's ball into
105's mouth.  103 began to scream from the pain of having his ball pressed
into the tight confines of 105's mouth.  All he could do was to hold on to
113 with all of his strength as the pain seared through his gut.  Finally,
his entire ball sac was in 105's mouth.

	"See now, that wasn't so bad, and I'm sure we still have room for
this little pea ball that chinc cunt here seems so proud of.  Let's see if
we can't just...............," and Holt grabbed 113's remaining ball and
began pushing it past 105's lips and teeth.  105 was beginning to choke
while he stretched his mouth open as wide as he could, but knew he had to
hold position or it would be even worse for 103 and 113, who were both now
screaming in pain as their balls were squeezed into this small space.
There was a chorus of screaming and groaning as all three slaves suffered
under the siege of this bastard, but Holt was just grinning and listening
to the music.

	"Okay! Holt shouted, shut the fuck up, all of you.  105, I don't
see your finger's moving in and out of your pussy, get busy cunt and do
what you know you need to do, and you can begin your recital again.  You
two keep the fuck quiet so I can hear him," Holt yelled at 103 and 113, who
were now holding each other and crying softly on each others shoulders.

	If the sounds were indistinguishable before, they now didn't even
sound human as 105 began his humiliating speech again, while sticking his
fingers in and out of his pussy.  He realized two things suddenly, one he
already knew, the other surprised him.  First, he would kill this man some
day, no matter what it took, and second, he had just thought of his own
asshole as a pussy............his sense of shame overwhelmed him.  As hard
as he had worked to keep them out of his mind, he knew he couldn't keep
them out of his body, but his mind was his.  Yet now, he realized, this
bastard had gotten in.  If he could, so could the others...........Allah
help him, he had to get out soon, or he'd never be himself again.

	By now, Holt was actually burning with some desire to fuck this
guy, so he got down his knee and started to pull 105's ass up a little.
This movement changed the dynamics of the slave configuration and Holt
snarled to 105, "If even one of those balls comes out of your mouth, all
three of you will go into our special room and you'll have to be carried
out........understand faggots."

	All three slaves quickly grabbed each other to stay in position.
105 had to grab onto the forearms of the other two in order to support his
weight as Holt lifted his butt off the floor.  The shift also caused some
additional pull on both ball sacs, in turn causing a good deal of
additional pain for 113 and 103.  Of course, Holt was completely
unconcerned with all of this as he spat into his hand and lubed his shaft
in preparation to give this cunt a good fuck.  He didn't worry about being
gentle, hell, these were slaves, they prefered it rough.

	With that, Holt rammed himself into 105's nice tight
hole.........God, it felt good!  He was holding 105 up off the ground, but
he was strong enough to do that, and it afforded him the opportunity to
swing 105 a little which felt good on his cock, and caused some delicious
sounds to come out of 103 and 113.  He wouldn't give you ten cents for the
lot of them.  That's one of the things wrong with this country, these
damned immigrants flooding into this country and expecting to all be
Americans.  Whoever meant for it to work like that.  America should be for
Americans, not all these spics, chincs and rag heads.  It actually felt
patriotic in some strange way to be doing this.........teaching this scum
that if they want to live here, they need to serve real Americans.  It all
underscored Holt's basic belief about this slave farm.  That was, that deep
down, these slaves craved this, there was something wrong with them, or
they would never have been caught.  A real man would never allow this kind
of thing to happen to him.  With that certainty and self assurance, Holt
felt himself getting very close.  He jerked 105 again rather hard, which in
turned sent 103 and 113 into new spasms of pain, and their screams just
made him feel even stronger and YES.........YES..........YES, as he shot
chord after chord of his true American cum into this rag heads
pussy........YES........YES........."Take it all and appreciate that I'd
waste my time teaching you your place in life, you little cunt," he shouted
as he continued to shoot his juices.

	Finally, exhausted, he pulled his cock out of 105 and dropped his
ass on the floor.  He'd done his part.  Helping to get these perverts off
the street, and making a little profit to boot.  God, this was a great
country.  He'd use each of them before the day was out, but he still had
special plans for 105.  Trainer had told him to make 105 his personal
project for the next few days, and he was only too happy to comply.  This
rag head had been coasting around here for months.  It was time to break
him and get him sold, and Holt would do his part in making that
happen.........gladly.


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


I'll try to get the next chapter out a little sooner than this one.  Hope
you enjoyed it and would love to hear from you with your comments or
suggestions.  nakedrabbit819@yahoo.com